by Lee Goldberg, Scott Nicholson, J A Konrath, J Carson Black,
The Commander-in-Chief raised an eyebrow. “He can change people into demons?”
“You need to find a way to get us out of here, Mr. President. Can you get us any sort of weapons? Gas? Explosives? Something to cut through the bars?”
“Is it possible that I could speak to General Murdoch?”
“Just a second, I'll see if he's still alive.”
Andy picked up the phone and dialed Yellow 4.
“Race, how are you doing?”
Race coughed. “Not dead yet.” Though he didn’t sound far from it.
“I've got the President on the monitor.”
“Ask him,” Race said, “if we can go ahead with Protocol 9.”
“What’s that?”
“Just ask him, Andy.”
“Mr. President, Race wants to go ahead with Protocol 9. Is that an escape plan?”
“I grant acceptance for Protocol 9. Authorization code...” the President looked at some papers on his desk. “7-6-5-8-9-9-0.”
“He says to do it, Race, code number 7-6-5-8-9-9-0. What's Protocol 9?”
“God be with you folks,” the President said.
The monitor went blank.
Andy’s stomach did a slow roll. “What the hell just happened?” he demanded.
Sun reached out and gripped his arm. “I don’t like this. Ask Race what’s going on.”
“It's the last safety measure,” Race said, “in case all others fail. In 1967 I authorized a one kiloton nuclear device to be buried under Samhain.”
“What? A nuke?”
Sun closed her eyes. “A nuke.”
“Race,” Andy gripped the receiver, knuckles white, fighting to remain calm. “You can't blow us up.”
“I'm sorry, son. If Bub gets out, he could destroy the world. I don't have a choice here.”
“What about our choice?” Andy pleaded.
“It's in God's hands now.”
“God?” Andy laughed. “Didn't you hear? Bub is God. He came from outer space and created all life on earth.”
Sun wrestled the phone from Andy.
“General, you have to give us a chance. Is the Yellow Arm the only way out?”
There was a pause. Andy put his ear next to the receiver and heard Race say, “Yes.”
“You paused. Why did you pause? Is there another way out?”
“I'm sorry, Sunshine. It has to be this way.”
“Don't do this, Race. Please.”
“I'm setting the timer for an hour,” Race said. “Give you time to make your peace, have one last fling, whatever you want to do.”
“Race...”
“We're saving the world, Sun. Take some solace in that.”
The General hung up.
Andy stared at Sun, then at Dr. Belgium. They both looked devastated.
“We have to turn off that nuke,” he said.
Sun met his eyes. “We don't even know if it can be turned off.”
“We have to try.”
Sun shook her head. “How do we get through the bars? And even if we manage that, how do we get past Helen?”
“We’ll find a way. Race said we have an hour.”
“An hour? We couldn’t even do it with power tools.”
“There's the central air vent.” Dr. Belgium pointed above to the left of the Blue Door near the ceiling. “It's big enough to crawl in. Race had to go in there once, around ten years ago, to fix a weld.”
Andy’s heart leapt. “Where does it go?”
“The ducts go through the ceilings all over the compound.”
“We still can't go into the Yellow Arm,” Sun said. “Not without some kind of weapon.”
“Race had that cattle prod. I’m betting it’s in his room.”
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
They all turned to look at Bub, who’d gripped the titanium bars and shook them with ferocious power.
“Free meeeeeeee!” Bub hissed. “I’ll help you turn off the bomb if you free meeeeeee. Fraaaaank...”
The demon focused his attention on the biologist.
“I know things about science that yooooooou couldn’t even comprehend. I could teeeeeach you. You’d surpass Crick. Surpass Einsteeeein.”
Frank looked away.
“Suuuuuuun,” Bub implored. “I can take away your paaain, heal the wounds of the paaaaaaaast.”
Sun gave Bub her back and folded her arms.
“Andy...”
Andy gave Bub the finger.
“Fooooools. Then diiiiiiiiie!”
Bub roared, an unholy screech that made Andy’s ears ring, then disappeared down the Red Arm.
“We have to defend ourselves somehow. Bub might making more of those things out of Father Thrist.”
“How many can he make?” Andy asked.
Sun did a quick count. “There are about eighty dead ones here. So we should expect another eighty.”
“Can we barricade the gate?” Belgium asked.
“He can fit his hands through the bars. He’ll just push the barricade down.”
“How about a net?”
“Made of what?”
Belgium scanned a desktop, then held up a pack of yellow Post-It notes.
“I don’t think that will hold, Frank. But it can’t hurt to start piling stuff up against the gate.”
Andy set the timer on his watch for fifty-five minutes.
“Let's move like our lives depend on it.” he said.
Belgium began to stack chairs against the Red Arm. Andy and Sun pushed a desk over to the air vent. Andy climbed on top. The grating was at waist level, held into place with four screws. Flat heads.
“See if you can find some kind of flat tool. A nail file. A rulers. Something to use as a screwdriver.”
Sun rifled through the drawers, then handed him a staple remover. The metal edge fit into the groove on the screw head. Andy twisted.
The screw didn’t budge.
“Not enough leverage. Try to find something else.”
Sun left to search for a better tool, while Andy struggled with the staple remover. He tried another screw, pushing down on it hard, his fingers turning white from the pressure.
It moved.
Andy leaned into it, his head pounding, the sweat starting to come.
An agonizing two minutes later, and the screw was out. A long son of a bitch too.
One down, three to go.
“Try this,” Sun said. She handed him a piece of metal—one of the drawer tracks from a desk. Andy tried it in the screw.
“Too soft. It just bends.”
“I’ll keep looking.”
Andy went back to work with the staple remover. His fingers were cramped and screaming, and the sweaty tool kept slipping off the screw, making him scrape his knuckles. But he managed to get another one out.
Checking his watch, he saw they’d lost eight minutes.
“They’re coming,” Dr. Belgium said.
Andy looked over his shoulder. Belgium had piled a ceiling-high stack of chairs and desks against the Red Arm gate.
Sun ran up to him.
“Andy! You gotta hurry!”
Andy pried up an edge of the vent, stuck his fingers under it, and yanked. He was able to pull the vent to the side, revealing a very narrow opening.
“It's dark,” he said, peering in. “And dusty. Does anyone have matches or a lighter?”
“Just get your ass in there.” Sun said. “We should be able to see light through the vents when we're over them.”
“Bats bats bats!” Belgium said, running up. “I hear them coming down the hall!”
Andy took off his shirt and wound it around his face to keep out the thick dust. Sun and Belgium did the same. Then Andy went in.
There wasn't much space, and Andy couldn't get on all fours to crawl. He moved forward by pulling himself with his fingers in a chin-up motion, using his tip toes to assist. It was slow going, exhausting, claustrophobic, and it didn't help that Andy had wounds all over his body.
Before long his breathing was choked and labored, and his fingers and calves were cramping.
“Keep going,” he heard Sun say behind him.
She touched his foot. It gave him a smidgeon of hope.
Then he heard the squeal of the batlings echo through the vent.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Sun didn’t like enclosed spaces. With Andy in front of her, and Dr. Belgium at her heels, she felt like a sardine. The dust coated the inside of her mouth and nose, and made her eyes water.
Belgium tapped her ankle. “They’re right behind me.”
“Faster, Andy!”
“There’s a light ahead. Just a few feet.”
Sun scurried forward, trying to push Andy’s feet to move him quicker.
“There’s a vent. I’m over a hallway.”
A clanging sound; Andy banging on the vent, trying to force it open.
Behind Sun, Dr. Belgium screamed.
“Biting me! They’re biting!”
Two more clangs, and then Andy disappeared.
Sun saw the light ahead. Andy had knocked out the grating, and gone face-first through the opening on the bottom of the vent.
“Keep moving, Frank!” she yelled. “Just a few more feet!”
Sun got her head over the opening and blanched at the ten foot drop. Andy knelt on the floor, moaning softly. His staples had come loose, and his head gushed blood.
“Andy!”
He glanced up at Sun, his face bathed in confusion. He must have hit the floor hard.
Sun couldn’t wait for him to get his bearings.
“Andy! Catch me!”
She wiggled through the opening and fell into his arms. He caught her and hugged her tight to his chest, and they tumbled over onto their sides.
Andy blinked, then grinned at her.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he said. “People will talk.”
“Coming down!”
Dr. Belgium dropped through the grate like a stone, landing on top of the couple. He hit Sun with such force that she saw stars and had the air knocked out of her chest.
Belgium was followed by a dark wave of batlings, which quickly filled the hall with swirling fury.
Sun sucked in a breath and looked around. They were in the Blue Arm, only a few yards away from her room. She had a can of mace in there. Along with something that might be even more helpful.
Sun managed to get to her feet and scrambled for her door, batlings swooping on her at all angles. She tugged the knob, dove onto the bed, and wrapped her fists around the two racquetball racquets she’d left there since her earlier game with Andy.
Sun rushed back into the fray in time to see Dr. Belgium run screaming down the hall.
“Andy!” she yelled, tossing him a racquet.
The batlings went straight for blood, biting at Suns wounds. She pulled off the ones that had begun to chew, and adopted her game stance.
The demons flew fast, but not as fast as a racquetball bounced. On Sun's first swing she smacked one down the hall, splattering it against a door.
It felt good.
Another dove straight at her face, screeching , and she backhanded it to the left.
WHACK!
She forearmed another into the ceiling.
WHACK!
Two flew at her head-on, and with an overhand smash she catapulted both into the floor. Sun hit another so hard its claws got stuck in her racquet string. She yanked it out and tossed it aside.
The former American Racquetball Association Women's Champion swung again and again, her racquet slicing through the air in all directions, knocking away batlings as fast as they could fly at her.
She chanced a look at Andy, who was displacing so many demons he seemed to be waving around a large net.
The batlings smartened up. They stayed out of Sun's swinging range, and tried to attack her from the side and from behind. Sun dodged left, jumped, and hammered two more.
Less than twenty remained, and Sun kicked it into overdrive, bringing the fight to her attackers. She set her jaw and sprang into the thick of them, staying on the balls of her feet, moving the racquet as fast as she could. Blood hung in the air like a mist, coating her face, making the racquet handle slippery. The constant flapping and screeching became intermittent, and then almost non-existent.
Just a handful remained, and the veterinarian hunted them down, one at a time.
A final demon, screaming like a smoke alarm, bee-lined for Sun's face in a suicidal attempt to get at her throat.
Sun whacked it so hard it bounced off two walls.
The veterinarian turned completely around, searching for another flying attacker.
There were none. The floor was littered with the dead and dying; almost a hundred of them. Several were still twitching or trying to flap their broken wings. The once pristine hallway now resembled a slaughterhouse.
Something touched her shoulder, and Sun whirled around, ready to swing.
Andy.
“I'm checking Race's room for the cattle prod.”
She touched his head. He flinched.
“I’ve got some super glue in my room.”
“For what?” Andy’s eyes looked up, as if he could see his own scalp. “You’re kidding, right?”
“It’s better than staples. Surgeons use it. What time do you have?”
Andy checked his watch. “Thirty-six minutes until we’re fried.”
“I’ll meet you back out here in two minutes.”
Sun turned to go, but Andy caught her arm.
“Wait a sec.”
She turned. “What is it?”
Sun searched his face, saw tenderness.
“Watching you, since all of this began, you’re so brave.”
“We’re both brave.”
“No. I’m just trying to stay alive. You told me about your fear of bats, how they freaked you out. You faced that fear, and won. I want to be like that.”
Injured as he was, she never had a man look at her with so much longing.
“It’s easy to be brave,” she breathed. “Don’t think about it. Just do it.”
Andy put his arm around the small of her back, pulled her close, and kissed her.
Sun hurt in a hundred places. Andy tasted like blood and sweat and dust, and he smelled even worse, and his hand was pressed right up against an open batling bite on her side, and this was the worst possible timing in the history of male/female relations.
It was also the best kiss of Sun’s life.
She kissed him back, enjoying the spark of electricity that ran helter-skelter over her nerve endings. She may have even moaned a little.
When they finally broke the kiss, Andy said, “Wow.”
No one had ever given Sun a “Wow” before.
“Meet me back here in two minutes,” she said. “And be careful. We don’t know what else is running around here.”
Sun hurried to her room, and only after closing the door did she wonder what happened to Dr. Belgium.
CHAPTER THIRTY
When the hallway filled with batlings, Dr. Belgium looked to Sun and Andy to tell him what to do. He watched Sun tear down the hall and run into her room.
Good idea, Belgium thought.
He took off after Sun, a swarm of demons striking him from all directions. He almost panicked. The batlings instilled the same primordial fear as a swarm of bees or a nest of vipers. Even worse, they were intelligent, aiming for Belgium's eyes, biting at his legs and back and other places he couldn't swat with his hands.
The high-pitched squealing sound they made, the electric pain appearing all over his body like bullet hits, the blood blinding his eyes—part of him wanted to just give up and die.
He quickly realized he wasn’t going to reach his room alive. The creatures were in his face, and he couldn’t see. Every time he knocked one off, another took its place.
So Belgium did what he was taught in grammar school.
Stop, drop, an
d roll.
The batlings that clung to him were crushed under his weight. The others couldn’t land on him. Dizziness be damned, this was the perfect protection.
Until he hit the wall.
Disoriented, he reached up, his fingers finding purchase on a doorknob. He got to his knees and entered the room, slamming it closed behind him.
He checked his clothes, to see if any batlings still clung to him. One was gnawing on his left calf, and he tore it off and tossed it at the bed.
It was then that he noticed what was left of Dr. Harker.
“...oh dear oh dear oh dear.”
Something had gotten to her. Something big and hungry. Her dead eyes were wide open, and her mouth frozen in a scream of raw agony. Glancing at her lower body, Belgium could guess she’d been alive for much of the meal.
The batling on the bed squeaked, shook itself off, and took flight. It came straight at Belgium, and he moved up his forearm to shield his face from the attack.
But before the demon reached him, a long pink whip snatched it out of the air with a THWACK! The batling, and the tongue that held it, vanished behind the bed.
Then came munching sounds.
Belgium held his breath, reaching his hand behind him, seeking the doorknob.
In the hallway he could hear the squealing of the brood. Going back out there wasn’t a viable option.
Maybe if he kept very still, the thing behind the bed wouldn’t come out.
As soon as the thought left his head, the thing behind the bed came out.
It looked like an albino alligator, with a grossly inflated and misshapen human head. Bulging, cloudy white eyes without pupils darted left, then right, eventually resting on Belgium. The creature blinked and stretched open its mouth.
It had more teeth than Bub did.
“Oh shit shit shit.”
Its six legs bent, and it hopped onto the bed. Belgium watched its nostrils flare as it sniffed the air.
The hallway was looking better and better.
“Um, hello there,” Belgium said, his mouth so dry he felt as if he’d gargled with sand.
The creature cocked its head to the side. The milky eyes regarded him.
“Hello,” it said. Its voice was that of a child’s.
Frank came very close to wetting his pants.
“I’m, um, Dr. Belgium. What’s your name?”
It moved closer.