Coleman took note of the terrorists’ approach on the computer screen. Now only one thing mattered. The terrorists were between him and his son.
He’d already memorized the layout of the dry area of corridors and rooms directly around the diving arena. King and Forest checked their pistols. They knew what needed to be done.
Coleman had no misconception that this was going to be the worst shit-fight yet. They had almost no ammunition and were pinched between the two incoming forces. This was the face-to-face standoff that Coleman had been working hard to avoid. His team were outnumbered, but they didn’t have a choice. They were Marines and they would never give up. Coleman saw it in the eyes of King and Forest as they waited for his instructions.
He tossed the terrorist’s weapon with the super bullets to Forest. ‘Forest, you stay here and protect Vanessa while she works. Right now she’s David’s only chance. King and I will split up and try to buy her time to work.’
Coleman turned to King, ‘You take Bora and I’ll take Cairns. This is purely hit and run. Move fast and don’t let them pin you down. There are more of them than there are of us, and they’re moving in groups, so they should attract more creatures. I want them to attract as many creatures down here as possible to give the Evac Center more time. Now go.’
King nodded and dashed off across the pool room, his huge bulk gracefully disappearing through the northern hatch in a second.
Coleman knelt beside Vanessa. ‘I’m going to buy you time to help David. That’s the only thing that matters now, right?’
Vanessa nodded, already turning to the computer.
‘Can you do this, Vanessa?’
She didn’t look up from the screen. She was typing and talking at the same time. ‘I need to decipher the genetic pattern that Gould took months to build. I’m focusing on the traits inherited from the Impetus pespedus genetic code.’
‘But if there’s any person in the world that can do it, it’s you, right?’
Vanessa met his eyes. ‘You do what you do best, and I’ll do what I do best.’
Coleman nodded then ran for the door. ‘Good luck.’
#
Cairns slogged through the waist-deep water.
He held his rifle up in two hands, keeping the weapon dry. He glanced at his wrist monitor.
Still one green light. The distraction is still active.
And thank god for that. The creatures had destroyed the first container in half the time Cairns had anticipated.
If he stopped walking, he knew he’d feel the vibrations through the water, but there was no stopping now. They needed to reach the diving arena, retrieve the templates, and then escape as the creatures were drawn towards the Quarantine Center.
Cairns cursed himself for letting the mission get so out-of-control. This was going to be their last chance to set things right. Timing was everything, and they didn’t have a second to spare. Any second now, all these corridors were going to be thick with creatures. Cairns imagined them coming under the water like sharks picking up the bloody scent of a wounded animal, moving in for the kill.
As he crossed another four-way intersection of flooded office corridors, he glanced in both directions for signs of movement. They didn’t stand a chance against the creatures in the waist-deep water. Even their special ammunition would be next to useless against a submerged target.
What the hell would the creatures even look like moving through the water? What should I be looking for?
He didn’t have long to wait for his answer. Behind him, Gould and five gunmen plunged through the water in a single file row. The last gunman suddenly shouted, ‘Here they come! Hostiles at six o’clock!’
Cairns glanced back down the struggling line of exhausted men. The corridor twenty feet behind them erupted in churning humps of white water. It looked like nothing less than a dozen wrestling krakens. The sight sent a chemical bolt of renewed strength into his legs.
‘Oh-my-god!’ shrieked Gould. ‘Go, go, go!’
Cairns ignored Gould. They were already going as fast as they possibly could. As fast as they ploughed through the water, the creatures moved faster.
‘Don’t fire until we’re out of the water,’ Cairns yelled. More easily said than done, he knew.
White water started surging around their elbows, telegraphing the painful death just seconds away. The last gunman broke first. Ignoring Cairns’s order, he turned and awkwardly fired full-auto into the tangled mess of white water. Cairns saw the man collapse backwards under the unstoppable surge.
There it is!
He spotted their goal. Ten feet ahead, a short flight of five steps served a grilled landing. On the landing stood an oval hatch. The hatch had a submarine style rotating handle.
He surged up the stairs, feeling the drag of the water disappear from his legs. The creatures almost had them. He didn’t need to look back to check.
Cairns grabbed the hatch handle and twisted.
The handle didn’t budge. His eyes opened wide in surprise.
Fuck.
‘Open the door. Open the frigging door!’ screamed Gould, trying to push past Cairns to reach the door handle.
Cairns rammed the back of his elbow into Gould’s face. He felt the crunch of Gould’s nose breaking. The scientist tumbled backwards. Blood shot from his nose as he staggered against the hand railing.
The last two gunmen wheeled on the stairs, knee-deep in water, and opened fire into the corridor. The creatures thrashed just six feet away.
Cairns ignored the wild, panicked firing of the gunmen fighting for their last few seconds of life. His eyes roamed over the hatch again.
There is no locking mechanism on this hatch. It’s just stuck.
He shouldered his rifle and threw his full weight into the effort. Open…up…you…son-of-a….
The handle turned an inch, and then started slowly grinding open.
Straining, Cairns felt something heavy strike the platform under his boots. The entire platform shuddered. He didn’t stop straining at the hatch. Now all four gunmen were shooting. In the confined space, the noise sounded stunning.
A gunman was torn from the landing. There was screaming. Blood splattered up the wall beside Cairns, but he didn’t stop straining at the handle.
Shlick!
The handle suddenly spun in his grasp. The door thrust open under his weight. He leapt through, finding Gould almost climbing up his ass.
‘It’s open, fall back!’ yelled Cairns. The water frothed pink with lumpy pieces of human.
The surviving gunmen barreled through the open hatch as a creature lurched up onto the platform. The last man dove headlong through the hatch. As the man hit the floor, Cairns slammed the hatch and dogged the handle.
The hatch shuddered a fraction of a second later. Then, for a few moments, there was nothing but the sound of harsh breathing and water dripping from wet fatigues. Only three gunmen had made it through the hatch.
The hatch shook violently again.
‘That won’t hold them long,’ warned Gould, his voice quavering. ‘They’re going to get in here.’
Cairns listened. He slowly turned to the source of a new sound. It was coming from within the confined maze of corridors warrening the area they had just entered. He checked his wrist monitor. The second green light had died.
With a deft flick of two clasps, the wrist monitor dropped to the floor. Cairns unlimbered his weapon and turned squarely towards the noise.
‘They’re already here.’
#
Coleman sprinted down the corridor.
Take the pain to the enemy.
He smiled grimly. He sprinted towards the sound of sustained gunfire. It was the sound of P190 assault rifles, the sound of Cameron Cairns having his ass kicked.
Coleman recalled the layout of the surrounding labs with snap-shot clarity. He knew Cairns’s path. He knew from which direction the creatures approached. And he knew that if Cairns approached in a straight line towards
the diving arena, he would intercept them in the staff lunch room.
Coleman turned left without slowing. Apart from surprise, the surveillance cameras were Third Unit’s only advantage. And the advantage of surprise was about to disappear….
He dashed into a lunchroom filled with surprised gunmen.
Causing mayhem was normally King’s specialty, but Coleman was ready to take a crack at the title. He burst into the lunchroom from the side entrance.
The gunmen were spread all over the room, moving across Coleman’s path. He counted at least five terrorists, including Cameron Cairns and Francis Gould. As he entered the room, two of the gunmen were looking in the wrong direction.
Only Gould immediately spotted Coleman. He raised a hand, shouting a warning….
But Coleman was already upon the closest gunman. The man had just reloaded a fresh magazine into his P190. He spun towards the sound of Coleman’s footsteps. He was just four feet away when Coleman lifted his colt and fired.
The bullet entered the terrorist’s mouth, punctured his upper pallet and exploded out the back of his head like a mini-volcano. The man’s head snapped backwards as his body’s inertia kept him spinning. The dead man’s weapon clattered across the floor.
In one move, Coleman scooped up the sliding weapon and dove into a small kitchenette on his left. The gunmen returned fire. Hitting the floor behind the serving counter, Coleman felt like he’d trespassed onto a shooting range.
The kitchenette disintegrated like he was in an earthquake.
Coleman was the earthquake’s epicenter.
Crockery and broken glass smashed down on him. Two cabinet doors flew from their hinges. A tap blasted off the sink, sending water spraying upwards. Coleman lay as flat as a pancake as the bullets shredded the kitchenette around him.
Don’t stop. Keep moving.
He jumped up and returned fire.
He was aware of men taking cover all over the room, but he didn’t really care. He held down the P190s trigger and swept the room like he was blowing leaves off a lawn.
His bullets cut a horizon of destruction across the room as he scuttled towards the exit. The large self-service coffee machine in the center of the room jerked and bucked as bullets ripped away its plastic shell. Clouds of instant coffee blossomed sideways from the machine.
Before the terrorists could gather themselves to return fire, Coleman was sprinting from the room.
#
Gould crouched behind the coffee machine as the Marine leveled the room with gunfire.
He felt the machine twist and buck as bullets raked its surface.
A second after the Marine finished firing there came a pregnant pause, like a break in an orchestral score, and then Cairns’s stupid gunmen returned fire.
Gould pressed his fingers to his ears, moaning at their stupidity. Gould wasn’t a military genius, but he knew a royal cock-up when he heard it. Bloody fools! They’re going to kill us all. Clearly the Marine had provoked the gunmen into returning fire. A shooting match was the last thing they needed. A group of trigger-happy gunmen was not the key to survival.
‘Stop firing!’ Gould yelled into the mayhem.
The firing snapped off.
Gould still had his back pressed hard up against the coffee machine. A bullet had passed through the machine just an inch from his ear. Instant coffee powder funneled from the hole and landed on his shoe.
‘Hold your fire! Hold your fire!’ yelled Cairns. ‘It’s just one man.’
Leaning sideways, Gould peered further around the side of the machine.
The dead gunman’s corpse lay twisted up on the floor just a few meters away. Gould saw the man die. His head popped like an egg in a microwave. The blood spray actually went up and onto the ceiling.
He got out of this the easy way.
Cairns retrieved the dead gunman’s ammunition.
Maybe I should try to escape on my own, thought Gould. I could give Cairns the slip, then make my way back to the offices, and then….
Even as Gould calculated escape, he knew it for a futile fantasy. He’d never make it alone. Even if they all turned back now, they would never cross the flooded offices and reach the stairwell in one piece. They would all die on this dry island in the middle of the flooded basement.
‘I told you this was a bad idea,’ whined Gould, looking across the lunchroom to Cairns. ‘They’ve got us right where they want us now!’
Cairns snapped back at Gould. ‘Shut up. We just need to stay intact until the next distraction starts operating.’
Gould shook his head miserably as the inevitable began. From all around the lunchroom, the sounds on incoming creatures began echoing through the entrances. It sounded like a pack of wilder beasts had suddenly been herded into the corridors. Everyone in the room became perfectly still.
‘We need to move,’ said one gunman.
‘Which way?’ demanded another.
Cairns rose slowly from retrieving the dead man’s ammunition. He slipped the ammunition into his body armor and cocked his head, listening to the creatures. ‘They’re everywhere. They’re all around us.’
Cairns pointed to Gould while keeping his eyes on the nearest doorway. ‘How long until the Quarantine Center distraction takes full affect?’
Gould checked his watch, but he already knew the answer. ‘Not soon enough.’
‘We need to move,’ whined the first gunman again.
‘Wait,’ snapped Cairns, turning his head and trying to pinpoint the closest source of movement. ‘We can’t sneak through them. We’re going to have to fight our way out.’
Lovely. Just frigging lovely, thought Gould.
The sounds got closer. The gunmen turned and covered every doorway.
‘Stand ready,’ ordered Cairns. ‘Ready….’
Closer.
Gould took a deep breath and held it. He suddenly felt the damaged coffee machine hissing and buzzing against his back. It was trying to make a coffee.
Closer.
The creatures were almost upon them, and Gould was sitting against the only vibration-causing fixture in the room!
Well, that’s just bloody peachy.
He reached up and frantically pushed every button on the machine he could find. Gould found the cancel button a split second before the first creature reached the lunchroom. The machine hiccupped once and then stopped churning.
The creature completely filled the doorway. It curled its tentacles up around the doorframe and hung half-in, half out of the room.
The gunman covering the door stood three meters from the creature, blinking like trying to wake from a nightmare. The man’s hands shook on his weapon. Everyone in the room stared at the spectacle of the terrorist and the creature standing face-to-face.
Gould recognized the unsolvable problem immediately. The man couldn’t move, but they all needed to escape this room right now to survive. Three heart-thumping seconds later, the gunman reached the same conclusion.
He pulled the trigger and hollered in frustrated anger.
A trigger went off inside the creature simultaneously. It launched itself through the doorway and straight onto the firing gunman. In the confined space, the man couldn’t dodge sideways in time.
The creature hit him squarely in the chest, a Volkswagen ramming a midget. The tangled mess ploughed backwards through chairs and coffee tables.
They slid straight past Gould crouching behind the coffee machine.
It’s wet from coming through the flooding offices, Gould noted abstractly as the creature’s slick body come down on the man like a hunting dog worrying a rabbit.
Gould watched the ghastly spectacle, mesmerized by the ferocity he’d created. He’d never witnessed his creatures attacking a person. It’s obscene.
Cairns wasn’t mesmerized.
‘Leave him,’ Cairns yelled, abandoning the gunman to the creature. ‘We need to move.’
Gould jumped to his feet as the gunmen dashed from the room. Nobody seeme
d to care what he was doing. Which way should I go?
He hesitated for a moment and then dashed after Cairns.
Chapter 13
King rounded the corner and froze.
A creature blocked the corridor four meters ahead. King caught his balance without moving another step.
This is how Marlin died. Playing distraction while he moved through a maze of tunnels.
King felt the fury swell through his body.
Stay focused. Someone will pay for what happened to Marlin, but not if you’re torn to pieces in this corridor.
He shifted his gaze to study the creature’s posture.
With limbs spread up the walls, it resembled a giant poised cobra. Every limb was a living tripwire, and King knew if he moved his boots an inch, the cobra would strike.
From the corridors behind him, back towards the opposite side of the pool room, he heard the deep cracking thump of Coleman’s colt firing a single shot, and then a barrage of answering P190 gunfire. The Captain found Cairns. That’s one less terrorist to worry about.
The creature tensed. Thorns screeched down the walls.
King studied the creature, ready to turn and sprint if the hostile reacted to his presence.
Strange. The creature hadn’t attacked, nor did it move towards the gunfire. There must be something else nearby. Some other source of vibrations more appealing than me.
It would have to be close.
It’s Bora. He must be approaching. But from which direction?
King strained to hear approaching footsteps. He couldn’t detect Bora’s approach. He wasn’t sure if this was good or bad news. Bora might distract the creature, or he might approach from a direction that pinned King in the corridor. Should I run? This thing will move like a rat up a drainpipe. King made a wish at the creature. Please go and eat Bora.
A hatch stood directly opposite King, just four steps away. The urge to leap towards the hatch felt overwhelming. It might as well have been a mile away. He could see the hatch in his peripheral vision. Shut, but from memory, none of the hatches locked.
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