He prayed it wouldn’t hurt much. But, he knew he couldn’t give up, either. Not with the girl counting on him.
With a guttural howl, he stabbed the butt of the shotgun as hard as he could into the raptor’s open jaw, driving the stock down onto the creature’s tongue. It failed to connect where he had intended it to, but it did strike the raptor’s teeth and drove the thing’s head downward. The raptor tried opening its mouth. It stopped and acted as if something had become stuck. Maybe its jaw had locked. Whatever it was, it struggled to open its mouth. A few of its teeth were bent inward along its lower jaw. Jesse seized the brief opportunity for escape. He set his back against the wall and tried to squeeze past. He struggled, strained, and pushed with everything he had to get through. The raptor turned toward him, jamming him against the wall. It was fighting to twist its body around in the tight corridor. Jesse continued to squirm, feeling his own ribs taking the strain and wanting to crack. The pressure built, grew stronger. He wanted to scream out, but could not draw in the air to do so. Then, startling him, he was unexpectedly free of the crushing pressure. Gasping, he shoved himself away, hard, but was grabbed from behind and stopped cold. White-hot terror pumped even more stress hormones into his already overtaxed body. He leaned forward, grunting, pushing his legs like seized pistons. Something tore, the pressure let up, and he broke free. Launching himself away from the thing, he accelerated down the hallway. Faster, he told himself as he ran. Keep moving. Don’t look back. For a moment, he could only stumble forward. The pipes above and the dark, narrow corridor appeared as shapeless, gray blurs, tilting sideways, going in and out of focus. The flashlight lit a narrow path ahead of him, shifting, ever shifting.
He ran, using up all his reserves. He didn’t care. He just had to get away. When he left the narrow corridor and came out near the stairs, he shone the flashlight up to see if the way was clear. At the top were three more raptors.
Shit.
He backtracked and ran for where he had set his traps. When he reached the first tripwire, he hopped over it, then the second, and the third. He weaved his way forward, glancing over his shoulder while spinning the shotgun around to allow the flashlight to shine back at his pursuers. The monstrous raptor was still tailing him, followed by its pack mates. They were closing rapidly. The large raptor was making horrible noises. All of Jesse’s senses screamed out to him, telling him to run faster. The pack would work together to tire him out and run him down, or pin him down, or trap him. They were faster, stronger, and sometimes smarter than he was. Their combined hissing and screeching echoed through the corridor. The sound was loud and disorienting. He wanted to stop and put his hands over his ears to protect his sanity. Through his adrenaline-muted pain, he felt his shoulder throbbing, but he had no time to stop and check. He turned and skidded around the corner, moving as fast as his legs would take him. From behind came the sound of crashing furniture and wailing screeches.
He slowed, no longer sprinting but continuing to run. An unexpected wave of relief caused him to shudder and almost trip over his own feet. Amazingly, his traps had worked this time. But they would slow them, not stop them. He went left and down another corridor where an open doorway appeared to his right. He skidded to a halt and launched himself through the opening. Stopping, he spun to kick the door shut. It slammed closed, sealing him in the room.
Safe inside, he doubled over, rasping, wheezing, gasping, and gulping down breaths. He put his back to the door and reached for the knob blindly. When he found it, he twisted the lock, hearing the comforting click as the mechanism engaged. His heart pounded in his ears while he caught up on his breathing. Recovering, he lifted the shotgun to scan the room with the flashlight. As soon as he did, the light went out. Something plinked on the floor, leaving him in total darkness.
What now? He wanted to scream. He sunk to his knees, shaking his head. It was all he could do not to give up, but he knew he had to go back for her.
“Come on, Jesse, you’ve gotten this far.”
Feeling along the barrel of the shotgun, he discovered the end cap had come off the flashlight and the batteries had fallen out. Jesus! He slammed the butt of the gun down hard on the floor and leaned the barrel against his head while his frustrations waned.
After a few seconds, he reached into his pocket, fumbling for his disposable lighter. With a few flicks, it sparked to life. He stood and began searching for the missing batteries with his feet, but there was too much garbage on the floor to spot them easily. The room was plain and similar to the one where he had left the girl. A desk was pushed up against a corner with chairs piled on it. On top of a filing cabinet was a stack of yellow legal pads. He tore off a few sheets from one and lit them with the lighter. The flame caught and began to burn, providing more light than the disposable lighter could on its own.
He moved away from the door to the center of the room, still searching the floor for the batteries. When he turned back, he saw ribbons of fresh blood flowing down the door, streaking the surface with red. He reached for his shoulder. It didn’t feel right. Touching it was like touching sticky, wet, raw meat. And, as if seeing his own blood had made it all real, his shoulder began to throb. The pain built, each time coming on in bigger, stronger waves. Tiny yellow spots and brief flashes of blue light crawled across his vision, making him dizzy. He stepped forward. As he moved, he put a hand out to steady himself. He made it to the desk. He knew it would hurt to bend over, but he had to check if the batteries had rolled underneath. He started to lean over, but grew too light-headed to continue. He didn’t want to pass out. He couldn’t pass out.
The pounding on the door began anew, rattling it against its frame. His situation was just as it had been when he was with the girl. The raptors were not going to let up and let him die alone in peace. He listened, not making a sound. Outside, they continued their desperate efforts, the hissing, the scratching, the pounding. It had all started over again.
He stumbled to the center of the room, staring at the metal door. Then he ran over and pounded the butt of his shotgun against it. “Yeah! Well, come on! Come get me. Come get some, bitches!” He continued to yell at the door, losing himself in a primal rage, speaking gibberish. After emptying his lungs of air along with his frustrations, he sucked in a deep breath. Held it, let it out.
He touched his shoulder again. Goddamn, it hurt.
“No,” he said softly. “No, I don’t want her to die.”
He slammed the shotgun against the door again, and began striking the butt repeatedly on the steel. He continued until the sound on the other side stopped. He stopped too and listened for their response. Had they heard him? Were they giving up? Were they scared? Were they going away? No, that was all crazy. Raptors don’t understand. They don’t think, no. They only kill.
“Damn you. Damn you for creating them. Damn you. I hope you are all dead! Every last one of you.”
Jesse dropped the gun on the floor. It was all the fault of those self-righteous scientists, playing God, messing with things they shouldn’t have. They created the creatures. They were responsible for so much death. He hated them with every fiber of his being. The news had said they had all come from one place. A laboratory where they were trying to invent a better chicken. Imagine that? A better chicken. Even though he at first thought the story was a lie, one made up to fool the stupid, it was all he had to go on. He figured he would never know the whole truth. But there was no truth. The truth didn’t matter. There was only death.
“Bet they are all dead, too. Bastards,” he mumbled. “Serves them right.” He started chuckling. He coughed. The burning papers he had lit earlier had ignited garbage in the room. Smoke started to thicken. He coughed again. The motion brought on fresh spasms of pain.
No longer able to stand, he slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor, beaten and bleeding, and out of ideas. His coughing was growing weaker. He had failed again. Failed to save her. He always failed. The leather pouch and its single bullet hung mockingly
around his neck like a dead albatross. With the Beretta secured away inside his main shelter, he couldn’t even use that as his way out. Yet another failure. He glanced at the shotgun. It seemed as if fate had finally selected him for death. He could use the gun, stick it in his mouth, and pull the trigger. End his pain. But, the girl. He had told her he would return for her. Hannah had led him to her. He didn’t want to fail. Not again. Not her. If he died, then the raptors won.
Using his good hand, he dug into his pocket for the final two remaining shells. They’ll never win. Fighting the nausea rippling through him, he choked it down in a single, solid lump and loaded the shells into the shotgun. Holding the black-checkered grip of the gun in his right hand, he gave it a one-handed pump, loading a round into the chamber.
A figure, surrounded by smoke, waited patiently in front of him. She held her hands folded neatly in front. She was wearing a blue sundress.
“I’ll save her, Hannah,” Jesse said. “I promise.”
She nodded, taking no notice of the smoke in the room. She smiled. Her two front teeth, slightly longer than the rest, were one of the tiny imperfections he so loved about her. He coughed again. The banging on the door resumed. Outside, a raptor screeched in pain. He knew he only needed a few more seconds to catch his breath. Then he would be ready.
He could do this.
-20-
SMILE
THE GROUP LED by Noah escorted Cory through the front gate and into the compound. Most of those assembled stared at him with blank, unreadable expressions. A few dipped their heads in respect. Others just looked on with hatred. All Cory wanted to do was get away.
“We need to come to an understanding,” Noah said.
“How about some water first?” Cory asked.
“Later.”
Cory balled one of his hands into a fist and examined his knuckles. Blood dripped from his jacket while the last of his euphoria faded away to nothingness. Focus, he told himself. Do not show fear. Opportunity will come.
Noah said, “I don’t know who you think you are, son, but, you feel like trouble to me. Is that what you are going to be?”
Cory pursed his lips and shook his head, saying nothing. Disagreeing now would only get him killed.
Irritation creased Noah’s face. He bobbed his head once. “What you did showed tremendous courage.” He looked at each of the two men beside him in turn. It was not a kind look. “You two could learn something from this man. Cory, that’s your name, right?”
Cory was positive Noah knew his name already. His instincts were telling him to run, but his better sense told him to play along. So, he waited, willing his facial expressions not to betray him. Crossing these people now would be suicide. The man outside was proof of that. But, he also wondered what Noah wanted from him. Obviously, the man wanted something. It had to be important or there would be no reason to keep him alive.
“Well,” Noah said, taking another uncomfortably long pause before continuing. “I’m willing to overlook your transgressions against us. But, he was not yours to kill. I understand you are not accustomed to our ways yet. Tim knew our laws and chose to break them. For that, he was punished appropriately.”
Four men stood nearby, including Noah. Cory figured he could take on all four. He could draw his sword and slice the first across the chest, push Noah onto his heels, skewer him through the neck, and punch the other guy, then get the last one as he tried to run away. But instead of doing all that, he nodded once at Noah. He would play the game and wait for the right conditions to present themselves.
Noah’s entire visage changed. He let go of his sour look and appeared almost friendly now. “You need to clean up, son, and here I am holding you here. We’ll get you that water.” He turned and shouted, “Eve! Come here, girl!”
The crowd parted, and Eve stepped through it. She kept her gaze cast downward.
“Yes?” she asked, approaching Noah.
“I want you to take our guest here and get him cleaned up, fed, and taken care of for the night. You are not to let him out of your sight. Are we clear?”
Eve continued to stare at the ground. She nodded. Noah grinned at Cory, then again at Eve, clasped his hands behind his back, and marched away. His bodyguards hurried to catch up with him.
Cory found Eve attractive in a plain sort of way. Being near her made him suddenly self-conscious of how badly he must appear, mostly how badly he smelled. Eve did not seem to mind. She took him by the hand and led him to a place out behind the house where an oil lantern burned above an old, claw-footed bathtub. The water in the tub was filled to overflowing by a hose that ran from a large plastic tank behind it.
“You can cleanup here,” she said.
He nodded and removed his sword and sheath first, pulling them up and over his head. Then, he drew the blade out, inspected it, and held it up in the faint light of the lantern. The katana remained unscratched, but specs of red and brown dotted the gleaming metal. He shoved it back into the sheath, knowing he would need to spend time cleaning and polishing the blade again, something he never grew tired of doing. The raptor blood coating his jacket was already beginning to dry into a congealing slime. He removed his jacket and shook it clean as best he could. Eve handed him a towel, trading it for his jacket. She hung the jacket in a nearby tree then went to him and began pulling up his black T-shirt. He shrank back, pushing her away.
“Oh, sorry,” she said.
He stared at her for a long, hard second then removed the shirt himself. The fabric was thoroughly soaked through with blood and sweat. He wadded the T-shirt up and tossed it on the ground over by a bench.
“I left my pack in the back of that car. In the Prius.”
Eve smirked, and then left. He watched her go, enjoying the way she moved.
Focus, he warned himself.
Through a cluttered garden filled with crisscrossing stakes and wire mesh, he saw the long wooden tree trunks that made up the perimeter wall. He glanced left then right. He was alone. It was easier than he thought to get her to leave. He could get a running start and race up and over the wall well before she returned. But as he turned a little farther to check for anyone else, he caught sight of his two shadows watching closely from a distance. He gave them a nod. Neither man nodded back. With an irritated snort, he returned to what he was doing and dipped his hands into the cold water and splashed it on his face. The coldness both shocked and refreshed him. He spotted a cake of soap and a small cloth nearby, which he used to scrub away the blood and other assorted raptor bits from his body, face, hair, and stubbly beard. Finally, he dunked his head under the water and straightened, letting the coolness run down his back and chest, and wash away the soapy film. His skin tingled. It felt as if more than just the grime had been washed away. Shivering slightly, he rubbed his head with the towel she had given him and sniffed his armpits. Acceptable, but he noted he could use an extended soak before feeling completely clean. He stepped on the heels of his Nikes and kicked them aside before peeling off his crusty jeans.
Eve chose that moment to return. “Nice, um…” she said.
He glanced down.
“I really like the smiley faces,” she added.
He shrugged. Yes, there were smiley faces on his boxers, but it beat wearing the Spiderman underwear he had discarded a few days ago. Trying to maintain whatever dignity he had left, he went to where she had dropped his nylon daypack and rummaged through it, pulling out a brand-new pair of tan cargo pants, and tearing off the tags. He added a new black T-shirt and kneeled to put on his shoes. Flipping the towel over, he ran it over his head once again before holding it out for her to take. She took it and removed his jacket from where she had hung it then stooped to collect his other dirty clothes.
“Wait,” he said. “Hand me the jacket.”
“It’s filthy,” she said.
“Yeah.” He grabbed the dirty towel back from her and dipped it in the water.
“That won’t do much,” she said.
; He ignored her and began cleaning his jacket as best he could. Leather was a wonderful material. It shed just about anything. He also cleaned his shoes until they were almost presentable. She left him working there alone. When he finished, he shook the jacket and hung it nearby to continue drying. Then he returned to sit on the bench near the tub and wait for her to return.
Eve reminded him of someone. She was not the same person, of course, but he could not help himself from making the comparison. He wondered what ever happened to her.
She was probably dead.
The morning he had left Bunker 2 in upstate New York had been cold and cloudy. It was near the end of March, and spring had not yet arrived in full force. All communications coming from Bunker 12 in Colorado had ceased, and the plan was for a select group to travel cross-country and find out why they had not initiated the final phase of the project. There had been eighteen in total that started out on the expedition, fourteen men and four women. Not sixty miles from where they started, a roadblock forced their heavily armored bus to stop.
They were unprepared for the savagery that came next.
Four gunmen stormed the bus, first killing the driver, and then spraying the interior with automatic gunfire. Bullets thudded into seats and slapped wetly into bodies. While one of the shooters reloaded, another walked the aisles, firing a handgun at anyone still moving. When Cory had heard the first shot, he reacted quickly and wedged himself behind a seat. Stewart, who had also come along, fell on top after being shot in the head. Cory never could get along with that douchebag in life, but the guy’s death had protected him from the gunfire.
The shooters left two of the women on the bus alive. One, they had shot in the leg. She screamed as she and the other woman were dragged off the bus.
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