by TW Iain
A multitude, with a single purpose.
She pushed further, seeking a stronger signal, something that would indicate a leader, or maybe a consciousness driving the rest. But she found nothing.
They were an army without a head.
They watched, and they waited.
Ryann shuddered with cold realisation.
There was no help coming from Haven. Tris would not get power restored—asking him to look into it had only been a diversion. Keelin had no way of pulling the Proteus from the river. If they left the hold-out, they would be at the mercy of the swarm of creatures. And if they stayed, Cathal’s condition would become even more serious.
Ryann climbed down and sealed the hatch. The clank echoed heavily, and the water on the rungs chilled her hands. She splashed to the floor, and rested one hand on the door.
They were lost. Whatever happened, things could only get worse.
The crew were relying on her. She had to lead them. But there was nothing she could do beyond offer some kind of reassurance. And even that would be wrong. She couldn’t lie to them.
She thought of her father’s wounded livestock, the ones he put out of their misery before their suffering became intolerable. And Ryann knew she had the means to do that. She knew how to over-administer drugs. She knew how to stop the flow of blood to the brain in a number of relatively painless ways.
But she couldn’t do that. Not to herself, and not to the crew. If there was any hope, no matter how small, she couldn’t contemplate something so drastic.
She wasn’t cut out to be a leader. She was a second—care for the crew, and leave the hard decisions up to someone else. Someone more experienced, someone with a better mind. But there was nobody like that. With Cathal indisposed, she was on her own.
What would Cathal do?
Ryann pictured him, back on the Proteus, when they lay under the water. She saw him in the cave, after they’d climbed to escape from the warths. And she knew what he’d do.
He’d do what he did in any situation. He’d call for suggestions. He’d gather information. He’d listen and analyse.
Ryann nodded. She could do that.
She pushed the door open and returned to her crew.
“But we’re safe, right?” Tris said. “They can’t get in. Tell me we’re safe.”
“We’re as safe as we can be,” Ryann said, keeping her voice steady. She’d informed them of the creatures, telling herself she wasn’t going to sugar-coat any of this. They deserved the truth.
“Not even a warth could break through that door,” Keelin said, almost to herself.
“One of those things took down a warth.”
“A warth isn’t a thick layer of metal. Or a solid reinforced concrete wall.” Keelin turned to Tris now, “Even a lash can knock a warth down if you get the right angle.”
“So nothing’s invulnerable.”
“Ryann said we’re as safe as we can be.” Keelin’s voice was soft and steady, but Ryann detected a slight hesitation. “These buildings were built to survive.”
“But…but you’ve seen what those things can do. They took Cathal down in an instant. They bit him, Keelin! They bit him and left him for dead. What happens when they break in here? We don’t stand a chance! We might as well give up.”
Ryann never saw the slap coming, and nor did Tris. His head jerked to one side as the sharp sound echoed around the room, leaving a harsh stillness in its wake.
Tris rubbed his cheek, then examined his palm, as if he expected to see blood. His mouth hung open.
Ryann knew she should step in. She should have read the signs and acted sooner. She was failing once more.
“We don’t know what’s going to happen,” Keelin said, her voice barely audible. She stretched her fingers. Ryann knew her hand must be smarting. “But we’re as safe as we can be for the moment. Panic isn’t going to help. We need to stay calm”
“Keelin’s right,” Ryann said, stepping in before Keelin’s nerves overwhelmed the girl. “I don’t like this situation any more than you do, but we make the best of it. We think clearly, and we stay calm.” That was obvious, and Tris knew it. There was no reason for Ryann to mention it. Cathal would not waste words like this. “So, our strategy. Ideas. Comments.”
Stillness descended again. Ryann knew how close she was to shaking, and she took a deep breath. She pulled the adrenaline in, and steadied her body and mind. And her voice.
“How is he?” Brice asked, nodding to the bunk. He didn’t meet her eyes.
“I’ve done everything I can.”
“So we have to get him back to Haven.”
“Yes.”
“But we don’t have power to call them up.”
“No.” Let Brice make his summary, she thought. It might clear the minds of the others, at least enough for fresh ideas to surface.
“But we have other equipment. There’s stuff in the stores I don’t know about. Not my speciality.”
Ryann saw his glance towards Tris, and there was a flicker of anger, but he pushed it down. She jumped in before it could reappear.
“Tris, that’s your area. We likely to have anything that could help?”
His mouth opened and closed a few times, and his hand returned to rub the redness on his cheek.
“You found something earlier?” Ryann needed to drag him from his funk. “When we first came in, you were rooting around, right?”
He shrugged, and his eyes darted to the storage units. “Saw a few relays before, but they’re not going to push through the concrete. Not all the way to Haven.”
“So we need to get out?” Brice said.
Tris snorted, and Ryann held up a hand as fast as she could. She didn’t need this descending into another fight.
“Tris, let’s talk this through,” she said. “We’ll explore ideas, regardless of practicalities. At the moment.”
He huffed. “Fine. Yes, if we got out, we might be able to reach Haven. But it depends on how much we have, where we are, the storm…there are too many variables.”
“Okay. Let’s cut out one of them at least. Take a look at what we’ve got.”
Tris took the few steps to the storage unit. Brice opened his mouth, then closed it. Probably a wise move, whatever he was going to say.
Tris was pulling equipment from different drawers, stacking objects neatly in two piles. Ryann recognised most of the stuff, but this was Tris’ area of expertise. She needed to give him ownership.
“What do we have, Tris?”
“Nothing special, just a few boosters, bits and pieces. A couple of old relays, even an X-43. There’s some extra power packs, too, but they’re the Sorin ones, and they’ve leaked. Most sitting somewhere between sixty and seventy percent total.”
“Is that enough to reach Haven?”
“Not from in here.”
“What about outside?” She saw his head snap round, and added quickly, “Just so we know where we stand.”
He nodded. “Okay. If this stuff was in the open, yes. It could reach Haven, but that depends on other things…”
“Like the storm. I get that. Anything else affect it?”
He shrugged. “Geography. The higher up we are, the straighter the signal path, and the less power we need. Basic physics.”
If there was some kind of rebuke in that statement, Ryann let it go. She called up a map of the area, scanned until she found what she needed. “And we’re in a dip here.” She pushed the information to Tris. “You seeing this?”
“Analysing data.”
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Ryann wanted to smile when he said that. It might have been a cold statement, but it told her that he was pushing emotions to one side. He was starting to think logically.
“We’re too low. The power-packs we have wouldn’t be enough.”
“What about the landing pad?” Brice said.
Tris glared at him. “That’s the same altitude, idiot.”
Ryann held up both hands, palms out. “Keep it civil. We listen to any suggestions, remember?”
Tris huffed, but turned away from Brice. Strangely, Brice hadn’t reacted. His head stayed down, and his shoulders remained slumped. And now that Ryann thought of it, his voice had been dispassionate. Although he asked a question, there was no lift at the end. It was as if he’d already given up.
Ryann didn’t think that was a good sign at all.
“There’s another landing pad, though,” Keelin said. “About a half-k away. It’s higher.”
“Show us,” Ryann said, before anyone could knock this back.
A new map blinked into existence on her lens, a warm glow at their current location. Further out—but zooming in as she shifted her focus—was a landing pad on a rise, almost a hill.
“You got this, Tris?” she asked. “Brice?”
And that was a mistake. Brice clenched his jaw, and she saw his chest rise high as he took a deep breath.
He didn’t respond.
Of course there was no response. Something else to deal with.
“How long to get there?” she asked, focusing on the more immediate issue.
“Ten minutes,” Tris said.
“Could do a half-k in five, easily,” Brice muttered. Tris rounded on him, but Brice shrugged. “Just saying. Suppose the storm and stuff might slow me down.”
Ryann should have been pleased that Brice avoided a confrontation, but it made him appear weak. Tris seemed to sense this, too, because his sneer turned into a dismissive snort, and he looked down at the piles of equipment, then back to Ryann.
“Wouldn’t make a difference how fast we moved,” he said. “Those things out there would be on us the moment we stepped out.”
And that stopped the conversation. It was all theory, all ‘what-if’s. None of it would work while the army of monsters surrounded them. All the talk of raising Haven was just that—talk and nothing more.
And even if Haven sent out a search party, they’d target the Proteus. They’d go to the Tumbler. Maybe they’d track the crew, but what would happen when they came across the creatures?
At least the hold-out gave them some protection.
Even a tomb slowed decomposition.
The sound of footsteps echoed off the cold walls, and Ryann look up. Brice walked towards the rear door.
“I need to see,” he said, without turning.
Keelin moved towards him, and grabbed his shoulder. “Ryann’s already looked,” she said.
“I know.”
“But she can…she’s more suited to observation.”
“I can see.”
“It’s dark out there.”
He held up a torch. Then he took another step, and placed a hand on the door.
“You don’t need to look, Brice,” Ryann said, keeping her tones soft.
He nodded, but said “I think I do. Just to…just for myself. To clarify, you know?”
There was more to it, but Brice wasn’t willing to explain. Maybe he didn’t fully understand himself. Maybe he needed a moment of escape, like Ryann had done, earlier.
“Those things are out there,” Keelin said.
“But at a distance. Right, Ryann?”
“They were when I looked.”
“But what if they’ve moved. What if they’re already on the roof?” Keelin shuddered as she spoke. “What if they attack the moment you open the hatch?”
Brice didn’t answer. His arm flexed as he prepared to push the door. Ryann knew he was determined. Standing in his way would only cause more conflict.
“I’ll come to the bottom of the ladder,” she said, the decision coming fast. “I sense them close, I let you know, and you don’t open the hatch. Okay?”
He hesitated, then nodded. She didn’t like that hesitation.
“You go against this, and I’ll be back through that door and leave you to them.” The threat sounded weak. “No risks, Brice. I won’t put the others in danger because of this. I say it’s clear, you open the hatch and take a look. Otherwise, the hatch stays sealed. Clear?”
He swallowed, then nodded. “I need to see,” he repeated, and Ryann knew he’d open that hatch regardless.
The metal rungs chilled Brice’s fingers, and that pushed him to keep climbing. Light came from below, where Ryann held her torch steady. He hadn’t turned his on yet. He let the shadows reach out to him. They were nothing to fear. He was dark anyway.
He reached the hatch, and glanced down to Ryann. Her features were masked by the light, but he thought he saw her head nod.
“Go on,” she said.
He spun the rotary plate, then flicked the catch and pushed. Chilled air rushed in, bringing a spray of moisture that grew into a downpour, and by the time the hatch was fully open his face was drenched. The rain ran down his head and neck, sliding under his jacket.
That almost made him feel alive.
Above him, the sky was rolling blackness. There was a moon somewhere, and stars, maybe even Metis, but all was obscured by the clouds and the storm.
Brice gripped the torch, his thumb nudging the controls to set a wide beam. And then he climbed up higher.
The rain stung him from the sides now, and water splashed back from the roof of the hold-out.
He brought the torch round in a slow arc, the beam angled along the flat concrete surface and into the surrounding forest. Water splashed up, forming a fine mist, behind which the wind threw the trees about angrily. He imagined they were trying to escape, but were trapped by their roots and trunks. He imagined them tearing loose, a great rip as they experienced a moment of freedom before crashing to the ground, their life support system in tatters. But they’d have that one beautiful moment before they died.
Brice climbed onto the roof.
Ryann might have said something, but he ignored her. This was what he needed—to be free of the hold-out, to be in the open. There was nothing for him back below. He was no longer a part of the crew. Nothing but a grunt, a waste of space with no skills.
But out here, he was alive. The wind pulled at him, and the rain pounded down, and he had never felt so invigorated. This might be his final moment, but he was going to savour it.
He turned slowly, playing the torch into the trees. The creatures were out there, and they would see him. They must know he was unprotected. The lash in its holster would do nothing, and he wasn’t going anywhere near his knives. And the creatures could jump. From the closest trees, they could reach the concrete roof with ease. If they wanted him, they could take him.
Maybe that was what he wanted.
And he could see them now, dark shapes within the branches. Amongst the constant violent motion of the trees, they were immovable shadows, watching and waiting.
Brice turned, full circle. Patches of dark solidity dotted the forest.
Some held out long arms, and claws glinted as the torch-light struck them. Their torsos were small but muscular, and their skin looked dark and leathery, matching what he’d felt back in the caves.
The creatures didn’t flinch as water ran down their hairless heads. Their eyes were large pits, black but with cloud-like swirls. The rain washed over these orbs, giving them a glassy sheen, before carrying on, round the two holes where a nose should be, and on to their mouths. Some were open, revealing sharp, pointed teeth, fang-like and yellow.
And Brice could smell them now.
Above the fragrance of the forest, and over the stink of mud, was the stench of decay. It had a meaty, coppery tone that made his stomach churn.
But it was the same stench that came from Cathal, and the same stench that was slowly filling the hold-out. At least out here, there was fresh rain. At least there was that fleeting moment of life.
Brice continued to scan, and brought his torch round to the tunnel of trees that led to the landing pad. Creatures hid in the trees, and Brice saw one shift. It seemed to pull back, and then it was gone. He saw the movement as an after-image, a streak of darkness that flew from one tree to the next.
A creature had jumped onto Cathal. Another had taken out a warth.
And that must have been when his thumb twitched, because the light changed quality, taking on a blue tinge. The creatures’ hides glistened, water on leather appearing as armour, and the claws as the deadly weapons they were.
In that instance, Brice didn’t want to die.
He stepped back, towards the hatch, only now aware of how close to the edge of the roof he was. In the distance he heard Ryann calling.
His hand shook. He didn’t want one of those things ripping into his neck, or slashing at him with its claws. He was stupid to be up here, on his own, with no protection.
The torch beam changed again, this time sending out a reddish hue that turned the trees to blood and made him cry out. The crimson darkness rippled with countless bodies as limbs flexed, ready to tear him to pieces.
And suddenly he remembered Cathal’s fit. He remembered the way the man’s whole body had jerked about uncontrollably, like a fish out of water. No, like a test subject being shocked repeatedly.
That seemed to happen suddenly, but nothing was without reason. Something had triggered that reaction.
With purpose, Brice thumbed the torch control panel. Without his lattice he couldn’t read the settings, but he knew how to manually change them.
The beam grew brilliantly white, and teeth glowed, and eyes hung in the trees like luminous balls.
Brice thumbed the next setting, and the light took on a yellow hue, not as intense as before. It was almost comforting.