The opening was another tunnel. A big one. A huge one. I briefly considered just going out that way. Then I thought better about it. Giant spiders. Let the team haul me out.
There was a number on the far wall. Very faint. The paint was old as was the brick.
57
Shit. No. Not that damned number again!
Make that 157. One fifty-seven. Better or worse, I wasn’t sure. But it might give us a clue where I was at.
I jerked my feet up as hard as I could a couple of times. Time to pull me out.
The number lingered in my memory on the long slide back to my teammates.
* * *
“Given the description of the tunnel and the number it has to be support tunnel 157 for the old PHG cistern.”
Portland’s chief city engineer wasn’t sure why he was being grilled by a lieutenant from the Sheriff’s office, three FBI agents and some overarmed civilians that looked like a militia. A very smelly militia.
“PHG?” Louis asked.
“Powell, Hurst, Gilbert,” Shaw said. “Local area.”
“Roger.”
“Can we access the tunnel?” Brad asked.
“You can practically drive a tractor trailer down it,” the engineer said, flipping through maps. “The entrance is here. Main entrance is welded shut, though. We haven’t used the cistern in sixty years.”
“You can either handle opening it or we’ll do it,” Phil said. “I’ve got three hundred pounds of C4 just itching to be used.”
The U-Haul had arrived.
“Uh, we’ll open it,” the city engineer said, clearly not sure if Phil was serious.
“Probably the better choice,” Brad said, blandly.
* * *
Once the massive double doors had surrendered to cutting torches and some judicious use of hammers and levers, no C4 to Phil’s disgust, the tunnel was as advertised. It was twelve feet high, seventeen feet wide, brick walled and cobblestoned. It was also in very bad repair. Bricks had fallen in at several points including bits of the ceiling.
“Well, this is fun,” Phil said. “No way we’re going to be able to do this without heavy firepower and if we use heavy firepower it looks like the ceiling is going to cave in.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Brad said, thoughtfully. “We always do. Louis, go get the van.”
“Yessa, Boss,” he said, trotting back to the team van.
“We’re going to drive the van down till we find definite sign,” Brad said when he was back. “Louis, you’re going to have to back it. Iron Hand, Jesse, in the back with flamethrowers. Phil, behind them with an Uzi. Hand, keep an eye out for where you came out. When we get to that point, firemen unload and walk it. Keep an eye out for when you get to solid web. But with the flamethrowers you can keep the bugs off till you get in the van. If we get hit by a wave we jump in the van and drive like hell. Got the plan? Questions?”
“Flame suits?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Jesse said. Since Ray III got barbequed any time we used flamethrowers we tended to put on silver suits.
“Up to you.”
Ten minutes later, Jesse and I were in the back of the Ford Econoline, feet dangling from the back, as Louis backed slowly into the tenebrous tunnel…
* * *
Our silver-suit helmets had fairly powerful lights on them and Phil was shining a million candle spot-light between us. But it was still hard to spot where the tunnel had come out. There were a bunch of little ass tunnels entering the cavernous one.
It was the spider silk that we spotted first. And Phil that spotted it.
“Hold up. I got silk.”
Brad bailed out as we clambered down, unbalanced by the weight of both flamethrower tanks and air tanks. The silver suits were hermetically sealed so we had to carry air tanks to breathe. The design was specially made for us with the air tanks down and sideways on our waists rather than vertical. ’Cause our flamethrower tanks were right on our backs where the air tank would normally be. The air tank was inside the silver suit, the flamethrower tanks outside.
Brad examined the silk then backed up and looked at the openings.
“Iron Hand,” he said from up forward of the van. “This look familiar?”
I walked back, there was enough room between the van and the right wall to fully open a door, and checked it out. There was an opening. About the right size, maybe. It looked even smaller than I remembered and I remembered it small.
But on the far wall was a barely visible “157.” It had been stenciled on the wall who knew how long ago and was harder to read from the where we stood than when I’d been in the tube.
And there was a definite trail of silk bits from the tube.
“This is it,” I said.
“Start walking.”
I took the left and Jesse took the right. I was paying as much attention to my air gauge as the possible spider infestation. Run out of air in the middle of a fire-fight and we’d be screwed. I was going to change when we were down to about a quarter tank. My breathing in the suit sounded like Darth Vader and the visor kept fogging up. From time to time I’d have to let go of the flamethrower with my left hand, pull it out of the sleeve and glove, and wipe the visor to clear it. I realized we should have trained more with these things.
Pro-tip: Understand fully any piece of equipment your life might depend upon. Train with everything you might use and be fully prepared. We hadn’t trained with silver suits. We’d gotten a company to familiarize us with them. There’s a difference. Train, train, train.
Second Pro-tip: Turns out the answer is to keep a roll of paper towels under your arm. There’s a spot they stay pretty well even if you’re moving “vigorously.”
The tunnel continued onwards in a straight line but we could see there was a bend to the right coming up.
Walking in it was a pain. It was hard to see down with the silver suits on and watch your feet. And there were bricks and other debris scattered on the floor everywhere. I’d stumble and catch myself every ten feet or so. I kept that in mind in terms of making it back to the bus if we had to run. Again, another “issue” of silver suits that we’d have discovered if we’d properly trained.
We approached the bend carefully. It was wide. The van and even the U-Haul could make it easily. But we didn’t know what was on the other side. Jesse angled left, getting away from the wall, and I moved almost to the left wall, creeping forward cautiously, pilot light aflame. We were ready to rock and cook at the slightest sign of movement.
Around the bend we found what we were looking for.
Various places on earth there are things called “funnel web” spiders. They are various different species, even genuses, but they all make webs like a funnel.
The entire God-damned massive tunnel was one giant funnel. About ten feet from the bend the web started and from there the web was side-to-side across the tunnel. By the time it was fifty feet in it was covering all the walls and the ceiling in a solid web that looked like the van could drive up it. We couldn’t even see exactly where it led. There was just a hole leading to who knew what horrors.
“Think we got web,” Jesse radioed. “What’s the call, boss?”
“Torch it,” Brad radioed in a satisfied tone.
“Right ’char,” I said, not bothering to key the radio. I just hit the second trigger on the flamethrower and let it play.
The web burned quickly and efficiently, torching like a pine tree. The heat was so high I could feel it through my silver suit. But the flame throwers could only reach a few dozen feet. We had to move forward.
“We’ve got movement up,” Phil radioed. “There are more of those small tunnels up by the roof. I just saw a leg stick out of one.”
I looked up, saw what he was looking at and blanched. There were an unknown number of small tubes, spaced about thirty feet apart, up by the ceiling on my side. Overflow for the cistern or something. But any of them could pour spiders out at any moment.
“Put a burst i
nto each one as you pass,” Brad radioed. “Phil, unass, get up top and keep an eye on them. Roy, get in the back and keep an eye on our boys. We’re going to back up till we have this configured.”
I put a blast into the nearest tube then the next one, there was one behind me at that point, as I backed out of the tunnel.
The web was burnt to the point it no longer ramped to the floor of the tunnel. It was sheared off about waist height as if cut by a laser. Interesting effect. And I could now see that the webs were nearly as solid under it as the top. That was a lot of spider silk. And some of it was really thick individual strands. Really thick.
“Brad,” I radioed. “Can’t point specifically. But you see some of this silk? Most of it is about the thickness of a hair. I’m seeing some that’s closer to a pinkie.”
“I can’t see it exactly,” Brad radioed. Despite a flow of air the tunnel was choked with smoke and fire. “But if it’s that thick we’ve definitely got a shelob. Big one, too.”
“Shit,” I muttered. One aspect of being in the silver suit was a feeling of being totally alone. It was weird. Intellectually, I knew the team was there. But there was no “feel” of a team.
The instructor, an old fireman, had noted that fire teams regularly made physical contact. Now I knew why. It was scary feeling this alone when you were facing a spider horde.
We backed up to the tunnel and talked by radio as Jesse and I kept an eye on the funnel.
“We need to see where that funnel leads,” Brad said. “The plans say there’s a large double door to the cistern up ahead. Probably where the funnel terminates. We need to see if it’s fully open.”
“At least one of those tubes is open to the spiders,” Phil argued. “I know I’m the only one who saw it and it might have been a trick of the eyes but I swear I saw a leg.”
“Agreed,” Brad said. “Plans show those. I missed it when I was reviewing the diagram. But, yeah, those lead right to the cistern. So assuming that’s where the nest is, they can drop on somebody from there any time.”
“We need some fire up in there that’ll hold them,” Jesse said. “Something that’ll keep burning. Or a way to block them.”
“They can only get out one at a time,” I said. “Keep the van back. Either I or Jesse will cover the holes and our backs. As we go forward, the ‘tube’ guy will fire up each tube. The forward guy will work the web. When we get to the door we lay down suppressing fire and back up. If any spiders come down from a tube where the fire’s gone out, the tube guy suppresses and burns and we back out. Before we do this we change airpacks and refill the napalm. We’ll do that one at a time and the other will cover.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Louis said.
“Says you,” Jesse said. “I’m already feeling freaked out for some reason. This suit is giving me the heebie-jeebies.”
“I felt that, too,” I said. “There’s a real feeling of being totally alone. And we’re going to have to do a lot of coordination. We’ll have to stay in contact. Hard with both hands working the flamethrower. Which do you want, tubes or forward?”
“Forward,” Jesse said.
“I’ll have your back,” I said. “Before you step forward, release with our left hand and put it on my arm. Firmly like the instructor said. Then pull me along with you as you step forward. Then resume burning. If you get low on napalm, we’ll switch and you cover back. When you get to half a tank, we switch. Sound good?”
“Sounds right,” Jesse said. “You’re right. It’s the feeling of being cut off. Sorry to freak like that but it’s weird. Feels wrong. My gut was screaming something was off.”
“We should have trained more with this stuff,” Brad said.
“My thoughts as we were coming in exactly,” I said. “Also, the ground is littered with rubble. We might want to stop to clear the path as we walk. If we have to hoof it, that way we won’t stumble. As much. This stuff is not exactly made for mobility.”
But that’s how we did it. The tubes terminated before the bend so the rest of the team got in position to give covering fire. We didn’t even have our body armor on under the silver suits, no room with everything else, so it had better be accurate covering fire.
As we’d reconfigured, reloaded and re-aired there had been a couple of peekers from the tubes. The spiders were definitely in them. And who knew which direction they could come from. Sassus were not known for tactical genius but shelobs were poorly understood and were rumored to be somewhat intelligent. Which was why Roy was in front of the van, checking six.
Finally, we were ready. I flamed the nearest tube, Jesse put his hand firmly on my right arm and pulled me forward, sideways from my perspective.
“You have the tubes forward,” I noted. “Flame up to them as we move. I’ll keep an eye up, left and behind us.”
“Got it,” Jesse said, squirting a tube.
I just trusted Jesse to tell me if anything was amiss on his vector and concentrated on mine. That was the benefit of having a buddy you knew you could trust. With his occasional hand on my arm, and being frequently in contact along the side and back, that horrible feeling of aloneness dwindled. I could concentrate on my vector.
As we passed each tube I would turn off the pilot light, fire some unlit napalm up into the tube then torch it. Sometimes it burst back on me, full tubes or something. But even then it just hit the silver suit. Benefit of using them.
“Okay,” Jesse said after what seemed an eternity. “Web’s clear in the passage. I can see the door and kind of into the cistern. More web but it clears out and…Mother Fucker!”
I didn’t even look. I could hear and feel Jesse continuously flaming but my focus was on the tubes. Then one of the first ones down the tunnel disgorged a spider then another. The flames in that one had burnt out.
“Back up,” Brad said, calmly. “Jesse, keep flaming and back slowly. They’re not getting past your flame. Hand, we’ve got these. Check Jesse’s tank.”
I released my hand from the trigger and reached back to Jesse’s tank. I found the bottom and lifted it and shook.
“Down to half,” I said, based on weight.
Jesse bumped into me, clearly backing, and I backed. Phil had moved forward and was carefully plugging the exiting spiders with his Uzi on semi. He was careful to get the shots into their bodies since a ricochet could hit the flame team. I put a flame into a tube, no messing around, to keep more from pouring out.
“Jesse, Hand, prepare to rotate,” Brad said. “Hand, you’ll take the tunnel, Jesse, tubes. Prepare to rotate…Rotate.”
We flubbed it at first, Jesse turned left and I turned right. I quickly turned in a full spin on one heel, nearly lost my balance and was looking down the tunnel towards the cistern.
There was a wall of burning napalm that stopped about ten feet from the large, open, doors. They were as high as the tunnel, arched like it, opened into the cistern. And behind the flame, circling the door on the floor, walls and ceiling, were more spiders than I ever wanted to see in my life. You could see the flickers of their eyes inside the cistern climbing on webs, looking through the door, hungrily trying to reach the evil intruders that threatened their nest and their Queen.
Jesse grabbed my arm and pulled me and we backed. I kept up a nearly continuous flame. Fortunately, the short bursts I’d been using before hadn’t used up much of my fuel.
“Jesse,” I said, taking a hand off to key the radio. “How’s your fuel?”
“Feeling awful light,” Jesse said. “But we’re nearly there.”
The spiders had moved forward, though. And we were passing more tubes. I turned and squirted a jet into one. It was still burning from Jesse’s shot but better safe than sorry.
The wall of flame and smoke was the only thing holding the spiders back from our team, though. When it burned out, when we ran out of fuel, it was going to get ugly.
And I didn’t have a pistol to save the last round.
“We’re nearly to the van,” Jesse said. �
��Last tube is on your left.”
“Still holding them,” I said, backing.
“We’re to the van,” Jesse said.
The spiders had advanced as the tunnel cleared of fire. They didn’t like the heat but they were bound and determined to get us.
“Everybody else is in the van,” Brad radioed, calmly. The guy was infuriatingly calm at times like this. “Hand, keep up the flame and keep backing. Jesse, lead him to the van. Just get in the back, sit down and keep up the flame. When Hand’s in, Jesse get in next to him.”
I let Jesse lead me back until my knees collided with the door frame. I sort of jumped up and into the van, sitting down. I was still playing the rapidly dwindling flamethrower back and forth.
“Roy, hold onto Jesse and Hand. Tight. Phil, you ready?”
“Ready,” Phil said.
They weren’t in the flame suits, could talk and had been planning something.
“Louis, get ready to step on it. Roy, do not let them fall out of the back of the van.”
“Got it,” Roy said, nervously.
I could feel his trembling hand holding onto my tank. Not the most reassuring thing in the world. I knew his hands were wet with sweat.
“I’m getting low,” I said. You burn through an amazing amount of napalm with these things.
“Throw it, Phil,” Brad said. “Stop flaming. Louis, get us the hell out of here.”
As the van pulled out, Roy yanked us both back into the van as something flew past our heads.
The next thing I knew I was on my back, half way into the team van, and the doors were shut.
“Doors shut,” Roy called.
“Punch it, Louis,” Brad called.
We were flying down the tunnel, bouncing over the occasional rubble.
“Can I ask what ‘it’ was?” Jesse asked.
“Thirty pounds of white phosphorus and thermite and a brick of C4,” Phil radioed then cackled madly. “Thirty second delay. Assuming all the fire doesn’t set it off.”
I sat up and looked through the back windows. There was very little light but it was clear the spiders were following us. You could barely see them in the light from the van’s tail-lights and the remaining flickers of flame. They were coming on but we were outrunning them. I’d hate to think what it would have been like to try to outrun them on foot. Probably like those poor bums.
Monster Hunter Memoirs: Grunge - eARC Page 33