Crustaceans

by Meikle, William

  The pony wasn't there. The room was cool and quiet, and she suddenly felt guilty at being there. Dad never allowed anyone in here.

  She was just about to leave when the noise came again. A wooden chair moved, as if pushed. It fell over with a crash that was loud in the quiet room. One of the stone slabs that made up the floor lifted, and a second later slammed back down into place. Her heartbeat thudded loud in her chest.

  ‘Champion?’ she said in a whisper, even though she knew the pony couldn't possibly be under the floor.

  She backed away, but not fast enough.

  A stone slab flew into the air and something came crawling up out of the hole.

  It was big, grey, with milk-white eyes the size of saucers. A leg the thickness of her arm clawed for purchase on the floor and the creature gave a high shrieking whistle of frustration as it tried to push itself out of a hole that seemed to be getting smaller around it.

  The floor bucked underneath her, and she almost lost her balance. Stone rasped against stone as slabs were pushed aside.

  Pincers waved in the air as more creatures came through. And finally, as she turned and ran, she recognised them for what they were.

  They were crabs… giant grabs, grown to the size of Farmer Brown’s tractor. She tried to scream, but found her mouth filled with dry soil. Someone called her name, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the crabs, scores of the beasts pouring in a flood from father’s study.

  “Shona!” the shout came again.

  She woke with a start, disoriented. Once again she tasted earth in her mouth. She tried to raise a hand, to wipe it away. Her arms seemed pinned to her sides.

  “Lie still,” the voice said. It was Stark, but there was something she’d never heard in his tone before, something that sounded like panic. She opened her eyes, but closed them again immediately when a bright light, too close, speared into her brain causing almost physical pain. She squirmed.

  “For pity’s sake,” Stark hissed. “Lie still. It’s not safe.”

  She felt someone shift earth by her right side. There was more movement at her left.

  “Hurry,” she heard Stark whisper. She was lifted bodily, feeling earth fall aside all around her. She spat earth and sucked air. It tasted dry, almost stale, but still preferable to mud. Carefully she opened her eyes. Stark was facing away from her; his headlight no longer aimed at her face. Wilkes stood beside him, the pair of them staring at a mound of fresh earth and stone -- a rock-fall that had completely blocked the tunnel. She looked around. There were only the three of them there. Behind was only a dark tunnel.

  “The others?” she whispered.

  Wilkes was ashen, unable to speak.

  Stark nodded towards the fall.

  “In there. The fall got them. We were lucky it didn’t get us all.”

  Shona moved forward, started to claw at the earth. Stark pulled her back.

  “Don’t you think we haven’t tried? It is twenty minutes since the fall.” He almost sobbed. “I thought we’d lost everybody. I thought I’d lost you.”

  She continued to try to shovel earth.

  “We can’t give up,” she shouted.

  As if in answer, a small avalanche ran down the mound ahead of her.

  “There’s someone moving,” she said. She started shovelling faster. Wilkes pulled her backwards. She turned on him, raising her hand, almost ready to slap his face.

  More earth fell.

  “Look,” she pleaded. “Someone is still alive.”

  She turned… just in time to see a two-foot white claw emerge from the soil.

  “Time to go,” Stark said.

  “Go where?”

  “Anywhere but here,” Wilkes replied with a laugh that turned into a sob.

  She let herself be led off.

  Stark turned and fired a volley into the earth, just as two crabs forced their way out of the dirt. The whole mound heaved and roiled as more beasts pushed their way through. A longer pincer waved in the air. It had a human torso held tightly in its grasp.

  Stark fired a final volley then all three of them turned and ran, headlong into the darkness ahead. Behind them the clickety-clack of snapping pincers grew to a deafening cacophony.

  34

  Porter came up out of the subway into a scene from hell.

  He had thought that the slow walk up the stairs from below had been the worst he would have to endure. The disembodied limbs, the heads sitting, forlorn, like forgotten footballs, and the slimy rivers of blood and gore… all of that he had suffered, in the hope of something better above ground.

  It was not to be.

  As soon as he climbed the stairs out of the station he realised where he was. There was no mistaking the shining towers and marble halls of Wall Street.

  But it had never looked like this.

  The plaza was full of scuttling crabs, each the size of a horse, and some bigger. Terrified men in suits ran like frightened chickens, but the crabs were truly remorseless. The sound of wailing and screaming filled the air, and blood sprayed and gouted over all surfaces. Porter watched one brave man step in front of a large crab, trying to defend a downed man behind him. But his only weapon was a leather briefcase. He managed to bat one pincer aside, but the second took his hand off at the wrist. Still he fought, stepping inside the pincers and clawing at the crab’s eyes with his remaining hand, even while his blood sprayed over the shell. He barely slowed the crab at all. It scuttled backwards and sideways in a crude parody of a dance, then, with a final flourish, snipped the man in half and stepped over him to its next victim. Porter turned away as a smaller crab leant over the fallen man and started to cut.

  But turning his head only brought a new atrocity into view. On the far side of the plaza a bus-load of tourists screamed and thrashed as two huge crabs calmly cut their way into the vehicle, neater than a manual tin-opener and twice as fast. One crab grabbed the bus and shook while the second waited at the open end as wailing bodies tumbled and sprawled at its feet and the snipping began.

  Shots came, echoing among the tall buildings. Four policemen ran into the plaza, guns blazing, trying to distract the large crabs’ attention from the bus. They lasted ten seconds before going down under a mound of skittering legs and claws.

  Sirens wailed in the distance.

  Ain’t nobody going to get here in time to save nobody.

  More screams came, from further away, outside the plaza.

  They’re moving out into the city.

  God help us all.

  So far the crabs had ignored Porter. He stood in the doorway of the subway station, unsure as to his next move. What he wanted to do was to retreat back down the subway, find somewhere to hide, just wait it out and have some smokes.

  Let the glory boys sort it out.

  He wasn’t going to be given that luxury. A higher pitched yell came from the bus. The crab now had the bus held at a near forty-five degree angle and was shaking it, hard. There was only one person still aboard, a young girl, no more than eight years old. She hung by the arms, holding tight to a seat, screaming at the top of her lungs.

  Even then Porter considered just turning away.

  But I’ve been doing far too much of that already.

  He hefted the shotgun and moved forward at a run. The crab holding the bus didn’t notice him until he was less than two yards from it. It dropped the bus, bringing another squeal from the girl. Porter dropped in a roll and tumbled beneath the crab. In the same movement he stuck the shotgun up into the beast’s belly, pressing the muzzle hard against the softer area of shell. He pulled the trigger, twice, feeling the shock bang hard against his arm and shoulder. He kept rolling, expecting at any moment to be caught in one of the claws.

  Well, this was a great idea.

  He got quickly to his feet. He was standing near a large hole cut in the side of the bus. Somewhere the girl still screamed but she was safe, for now. The crab he’d shot staggered around the plaza, scuttling frantically from side to si
de. It moved at a strange angle, and when it turned he saw why. Only four of its legs were working. It had to drag the whole left-hand side of its body along. The large claw hung at its side, hanging limply, scraping on the ground.

  I broke it.

  Other crabs started to circle it, including the second large one that had attacked the bus.

  Weed out the weak.

  The attack was swift and brutal. Although the crab was much larger than most of the attackers it was too badly injured to put up a fight. They were all over it in seconds.

  A moan came from next to him.

  “Mister, I’m scared.”

  The small girl stood there. Tears had streaked her cheeks, and her eyes were red from crying.

  “Me too,” Porter said. “Let’s get out of here. Okay?”

  She nodded and lifted up her arms. It took him seconds to realise she wanted to be carried.

  He looked around. The crabs were all otherwise occupied. Indeed, they seemed to be thinning out, moving further afield in the city looking for fresh meat.

  The girl looked down and saw the gore at their feet. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Tears were close again. He lifted the girl in his left arm. She clung tightly to his neck… too tightly, but strangely the small display of humanity affected him.

  He had tears in his own eyes as they moved away from the ruined bus.

  35

  Stark led them through a warren of dark tunnels, running at almost full pelt until Shona could hardly breathe.

  “Stop,” she whispered. “I have to stop.”

  She bent over, sucking air in whooping gulps. Her head buzzed. At some point she’d bruised her left side from the shoulder all the way down to her hip. It throbbed hotly in time with her heartbeat.

  Behind them, distant but closing, she heard the sound she was coming to dread.

  Clickety-clack.

  “We need to keep moving,” Stark said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  “But where?” she managed. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

  Wilkes held up a GPS system, its small green screen casting a glow on his face.

  “It’s only working intermittently,” he said. “But as far as I can tell we’re somewhere under Broadway.”

  “Give it my regards,” Shona said, but trying to laugh brought on a fit of coughing. The sounds echoed around them. A second later the clacking behind them got louder and more insistent.

  Shona managed to straighten up. Stark was about to speak but she stopped him with a quick kiss on his cheek.

  “I know… time to go. Just do me a favour. Find us a way out of here, quickly. I’m not sure how much further I can run.”

  Wilkes came to her rescue.

  “Maybe we won’t have to. Over here sir.”

  He motioned over to their left. While Stark had his back turned he dropped her a wink.

  “I’ve never known a team member to get away with kissing the boss before,” he said, smiling.

  Stark turned back.

  “Buy me a beer when we get out and I might let you,” he said. He reached out a hand and Shona took it. He led her to a narrow side tunnel.

  “”Looks like our boy here was right,” Stark said. “There’s an access hatch in here, and a ladder.”

  “Where does it go?”

  “Up,” Wilkes said. “Shall I take point sir?”

  Stark nodded and Wilkes went into the tunnel. His voice came back, echoing around them.

  “All clear.”

  The clacking had grown much louder.

  “After you,” Stark said. He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. “That’s a promise of more later. And you won’t even have to buy me a beer.”

  Shona followed Wilkes. The Lieutenant had a hatchway open and his head stuck through looking upwards. Beyond him she saw a steel stepladder.

  “There’s daylight up there,” he said. “About a hundred feet or so. Can you handle that?”

  Shona nodded.

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  But by the time she put her first hand on the ladder he was already six feet above her and accelerating away. She knew she was going to be in trouble as soon as she had gone up one step. Pain flared in her ribs -- a white heat that threatened to throw her into unconsciousness.

  Something’s bust in there.

  Stark arrived beneath her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I will be,” she said. But I won’t be winning any speed trials.”

  She looked down. Stark’s worried eyes looked back at her.

  “Just go at your own pace,” he said. He turned and tried to close the hatch. He gave it a tug… and it fell to the floor with a loud clang. As the echo faded, loud clacking came from what sounded like just outside.

  “Go,” Stark shouted. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  She turned back to the ladder. Even as she pulled herself up another rung Stark started shooting. The shaft was filled with light and noise. Wilkes looked down.

  “Keep going,” Shona shouted. “We need to get some height.”

  When she was eight feet up she looked down. Stark pumped round after round towards the open hatchway. Several claws tried to reach him. But it looked like the beasts themselves were too large to get through… for now.

  “Stark. Get your arse up here,” she shouted.

  He turned and saluted sarcastically.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  She started to climb. She felt vibrations on the ladder as Stark followed. Below him metal screeched and tore.

  They’re cutting through.

  High above her Wilkes was nearing the top; so far above that she could barely see him in the dim light.

  Stark had climbed up and reached her feet in seconds.

  “How are you doing?” he shouted.

  The pain was almost unbearable.

  But the alternative is much worse.

  “I’ll live,” she said, and went back to climbing.

  The noises from below grew louder and once more the insistent clacking returned.

  Stark started firing, but Shona could not look back. Her whole being was concentrated on the next step, and the next after that.

  Inch by slow inch, she climbed.

  36

  Porter, the child still clinging tightly to him, inched along, back to the wall. In all the buildings around the plaza, people pressed their faces to the windows, gawkers at the scene of the biggest wreck in history. Several had cups of coffee and sandwiches in their hand.

  I’m surprised they’re not giving out fucking popcorn.

  Porter waved the shotgun towards them. Some retreated, fast. One fat bastard in a suit gave Porter the finger.

  If I didn’t have this little girl here, that fucker would be dead already.

  He made a play of pulling the trigger and the fat man smiled back at him, as if this was some kind of fucking game.

  Things didn’t get any better. With his next step his foot met something soft that squished underfoot, like a wet cowpat. He didn’t want to look down, but his foot had got caught. His left heel was sunk into the spilled guts of a young woman. Her dead eyes stared accusingly at him as he disentangled himself from the warm offal. He’d been so intent on rescuing the girl that he hadn’t quite realised the scale of the catastrophe that had hit the plaza. Bodies lay strewn everywhere, blood, gore and guts steaming slightly. Black flies had descended, as if from nowhere. Over by the subway a stray dog picked up a loose foot and slunk off with it.

  Two small crabs hunched over a police car, picking flesh from a body that hung half-out of a broken windshield. From the streets beyond came the sounds of further mayhem; screams rent the air, horns blazed and shots echoed among the buildings. And above that, the sound he believed he’d be hearing in his sleep for evermore, the loud clacking of crab claws.

  He had another longing look at the subway entrance.

  Might be safest down there.

  Then he remembered the walk
along the platform; the press of the dead, tightly packed, limbs strewn asunder, strips of flesh ripped off, exposing gore and bone beneath. He couldn’t subject the little girl to that. It had nearly finished him, never mind a child.

  He kept moving, sidling along the side of the building. The noise got louder. The girl whimpered and stuck her face in his neck. He felt her hot tears, and thought once more of Sarah.

  This is doing no good at all. One of then fuckers could be along at any moment.

  He stepped round the corner.

  A pitched battle raged along Broadway. A line of army vehicles had just completed blockading the street. The noise reached a deafening din as they started firing bullets, grenades and missiles into the massed ranks of crabs. Porter ducked involuntarily as a chopper screamed overhead and laid down fire, blasting shell and claw into tiny fragments. Suddenly the air smelled of roasting crab. Much to his disgust Porter found himself salivating.

  He could see no way to reach the army line… the space between here and there was filled with a heaving mass of crabs. And although the army was doing terrible damage, still the beasts kept moving forward. Some of them had almost reached the defensive line. The rate of fire from the glory boys went up a notch. Crabs seemed to dance, pincers raised. And still they came forward.