by Dirk Patton
“He get ya?” Graves called back. Quezar nodded but didn’t slow his run. They all looked ahead as the passage dipped deeper, sloping downhill on a steeper trajectory as they neared the red light. Their clothes were wet and heavy, the temperature at near unbearable.
“What are we getting into down here, Sarge?” Yarvis asked as he removed another empty ammo drum and replaced it.
“Savin’ the world, Ronnie. Savin’ the fucking world.”
“I didn’t join this outfit to save the world,” Quezar said. “Just wanted to make some money and maybe live a few years longer.”
“Can’t have both in this line of work, kid,” Brady said, shaking his head. Sporadic clicking echoed inside the walls around them.
“Keep moving,” Graves hissed as they angled further downward and picked up the pace. More clicks echoed off the curved walls, these coming from behind them.
“How the fuck did they get behind us?” Quezar asked, turning around. He could see the faint glistening of eyes in the darkness, converging and approaching.
“They’re moving fast!” shouted Graves. “Seal the tunnel!”
Quezar whirled on him. “What? That’s our way out!”
“Doesn’t matter if it’s filled with fucking Morlocks! Seal the God damned tunnel!”
The skittering grew louder and longer as the eyes charged towards them. Quezar lifted his weapon and Brady lifted his. They back-pedaled with the 203s raised, hoping that maybe the eyes would take one last-ditch swerve in either direction, stopping what they had to do.
“Now!” Graves roared, and the two men launched their grenades.
The slamming blast of twin explosions howled in the confined area. Smoke filled the central tunnel, dropping large chunks of ceiling and wall. When the dust finally cleared their only exit was closed in a pile of broken rock.
They stood there in silence, looking down at the faint red light a hundred yards away, then back at the sealed tunnel on the other side. The entire passage pulsed, a deep and aggressive heat radiating from the walls.
“Well, that settles that,” Quezar mumbled. He rubbed at the seeping wound on his shoulder.
“If this is a maze down here,” Graves said, “there’s probably another way out. We just need to find it.”
Quezar glared at him through narrowed eyes and pushed past towards the faint red light.
* * *
The five of them moved in silence the rest of the way, continuing down the tunnel amid the scattered scratches of claw on rock from surrounding passages. Graves kept quiet. He had a lot he wanted to say to the men and women who had put their trust in him. He’d led them down here, sealed them in, and likely sealed all their fates.
What difference would any of this make in the grand scheme of things? How would five independent contractors stop this fissure from detonating? How could they stand against a horde of pale-skinned, four-armed creatures born in the bowels of the Earth’s crust?
Nearing the edge of the main passage, Graves held up a hand to halt the approach of his team. They slowed to a stop near where the throbbing red light shone on the passage walls and floor.
There was a gradual curve towards the left. Graves approached it, leaning forward to look around. The passage opened into a wide, sprawling cavern, an opened maw of pointed rock and stone that glowed red as a thick stream of lava coursed around it. In the center of the chamber two figures huddled on the ground, coiled in fetal positions.
Graves dropped into a crouch, gesturing to his team to fall in behind. Looking back, he motioned to Yarvis. “Let me hold your binos for a sec, Yarv,” he whispered.
Reaching into a pouch on his vest, the machine gunner pulled out the set and handed them over. Pressing them to his eyes, he leaned around the corner and adjusted the range.
“McCally looks to be alive,” he whispered. “She’s there with another unidentified person.” Without looking at Yarvis, he passed the binoculars back. “The immediate area is clear,” Graves reported. “Wide room, about a hundred yards circular. Two females in the center.” He looked at the group. “Straight across the room looks to be another wide passage, I’m betting that one also leads somewhere towards the surface. If we move in, you guys grab the scientists and exfiltrate through the other passage. I’ll stay behind and cover your six.”
“The fuck you talking about, Sarge?” asked Brayshaw. “We’re not leaving you down here to get chewed up by these bastards.”
“It’s my fault you’re all in this mess,” Graves said. “I’ll be damned if I don’t get you out of it.”
Quezar looked around at the other members of the team, thinking his words through carefully. “You know, Sarge, I’m damn tempted to take you up on that. But we started it, I suppose we might as well finish this shit.”
* * *
Graves swung around the corner of the tunnel and crouch-ran across the chamber towards McCally. The heat was near unbearable. Everywhere Graves looked he was glaring through waves of rippling heat, his clothes and flesh soaked as he came up on the two women laying on the ground motionless.
“McCally!” he hissed as he neared. “You alive?”
She spun on the ground, eyes widening. “Graves? What the hell are you doing here, you idiot?”
“Saving your thankless ass,” he replied.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she whispered. “They’re all over the place. Everywhere.”
“What are they?”
Behind and around him, the other four fanned out in a loose perimeter, weapons raised. The cavern was high and wide, a rough circular shape with low stalagmites dangling from the roof like liquid stone poured then frozen in place. Steam from the lava rose and formed a persistent humidity. Several small openings were scattered along the walls, though the skittering noises were disturbingly silent this deep within the ground.
“I’m not sure what they are,” McCally replied. “But they’ve been here long before us. They were probably trapped down here, but then the tectonic shift opened a pathway to the surface, releasing this strange energy… and them.”
“It’s poised to release much worse,” another voice hissed, and Graves turned towards the second woman on the ground.
“This is Genevieve Poirot. She was with the geology team,” whispered McCally, coming up into a seated position.
“Those lava streams,” Poirot said, pointing at the boiling red fluid rolling along the edge of the room. “They are interlaced throughout the entire substructure down here. Like veins and arteries all throughout this compound. They’ve formed this symbiotic relationship with the organisms. A delicate balance, holding this whole structure together.”
Graves looked up and around, lifting his weapon. For a moment, he thought he heard that telltale skittering noise, but it seemed to fall silent the moment he had.
“How do we get out?” Graves asked. “The tunnel we came down… well, it’s impassable now.”
Poirot pointed to the wide passage on the opposite side of the room. “I think… I think that may lead to the surface. I’ve seen steam venting through it and felt the cool gust of air.”
“Then get up, ladies,” Graves barked. “We’re getting out of here.”
He hooked a hand around McCally’s elbow, helping her to stand while Brady moved in on his right and did the same for Poirot, moving them slowly but steadily to their feet.
“We can’t just leave,” Poirot breathed. “The geyser could detonate at any time.”
“What can we do to stop it?” Graves asked.
Poirot smiled a knowing smile and opened her mouth to speak.
They never heard the trademark claw-skittering of the approaching Morlock. It leapt down from the roof, one of its narrow, twisted limbs shooting out. The barb struck Poirot straight in the face, splitting her skull in a wet snap that sprayed blood and brain in a wide upward arc. As the creature landed, it withdrew its arm, leaving Poirot’s body standing there, confused, a ragged mess piled on top of her shoulders. Poirot too
k one curious step backwards, then toppled to the ground.
McCally stared, her eyes wide and unblinking.
“We’ve got one!” shouted Graves, but Brady was a step ahead, moving towards it and popping three swift shots through the hardened crust of its forehead. Bone splintered and sprayed, and the underground dweller flopped backwards, limbs twitching.
The skittering returned. Graves turned, not wanting to see what he knew he would. Every single hole along the curved, arched wall of the cavern was full of monsters.
* * *
“Go go go! Fucking go!” Graves roared, lifting his weapon and unloading the M4 in a rapid chattering of automatic gunfire. The creatures scattered from their perches in the holes, scrambling down the rock walls on all their six limbs like nightmare man-sized insects, claws snatching chunks of stone and rock as they went along.
McCally stumbled backwards, turning and running towards the other passage as Yarvis came up next to Graves, firing his own automatic. As the rapid chatter of claws on rock echoed around them, Graves heard a louder, harder sound. Deep, powerful, and thudding footfalls sounded over the skittering. Something bigger than what they’d seen so far.
“These holes,” Graves hissed. “We’ve been calling it an anthill… these must be the drones.”
“If there are drones,” continued Yarvis.
“Then there’s a fucking queen,” finished Brayshaw, coming up on their left. Just ahead of them, along the south wall of the curved cavern, a large opening filled, half a dozen blinking eyes emerging in the darkness.
“Three of ‘em straight ahead!” Quezar said, moving to intercept.
“That’s not three of them!” Graves shouted. “That’s one. One big one!”
The queen charged from the darkened cavern, a large, lumbering beast loping on all six limbs. She was the same as the drones, but far thicker, like old and off-white twisted tree trunks. Her head had an ornate rounded crown of thick cartilage perched above six narrow, gleaming eyes. With a snap and stomach-churning flutter, fibrous wings cracked from her contorted spine and extended into a quartet, frantically buzzing and carrying her airborne. She was the size of a large horse, and much more powerful.
“Quezar!” Graves shouted, his voice rising to a pitch.
“One step ahead of you, boss man!” the specialist called out, moving up on his flank and lifting his M4. He moved his hand towards the front-facing trigger under the 203 grenade launcher and let a thick slug fly with a thump. The grenade struck the queen on its left, just under the twin fiber wings on that side. Dark ichor fell in streams as it shrieked, lurching to the right and threatening to topple over sideways.
“Nice shot, Luis! Nice fucking shot!” Graves shouted even as a few dozen smaller Morlocks made their way down the curved surface of the cavern and charged across the rocky terrain towards them.
With a loud, angry scream, the queen corrected its sideways pitch, wings beating hard as it turned and headed straight for the soldiers.
Brady charged past Graves on the left, firing his M4 and knocking down half a dozen creatures as he did. Yarvis unloaded again with the 249, carving a swath through the horde around them.
“There’s way too many of them!” Graves shouted.
“We were tryin’ to tell you that an hour ago, Sarge!” Quezar barked back.
Brayshaw swiveled right. “They’re coming from everywhere!” His weapon chattered, holding back an approaching group. Two of the beasts veered apart, letting his weapon fire pass harmlessly between them as they lunged forward.
“Brayshaw, watch it!” Yarvis screamed, but the Morlocks met in the middle with the soldier caught between them, sharpened bone claws slashing at his vest and the muscled flesh beneath. He screamed once, and then went down within the rushing swarm.
“Keep going!” Graves shouted, hot on McCally’s heels. “Head for that shaft!”
Brady, Yarvis, and Quezar angled after them, turning and firing as they ran, trying to take down as many of their pursuers as possible. Quezar launched another grenade, dropping it in the center of a group of six Morlocks.
Yarvis shifted left as Quezar fired right, sweeping his weapon back and forth in an arc.
No matter how many they took down more just kept coming, the horde growing into a pale tsunami of shuffling bodies. The queen continued to surge forward, guiding her winged body towards them as they approached the wide shaft and escape. Graves glanced to his left as he backpedaled, seeing the trench of thick, rolling lava right next to him.
“What did the scientist say about the lava?” Graves barked to McCally as they continued their frantic motion towards the exit passage.
“I don’t know what you mean!” she screamed back over the buzz and chatter of wings and bony claws.
“Delicate balance? Isn’t that what she said?”
“Something like that!”
“What if we upset that balance?”
“I’m a biologist, Sergeant Graves. Your guess is as good as mine!”
Brady pulled up near him, turning right and slamming a fresh magazine into his M4.
“Boss, we getting the hell out of here or what?”
“Absolutely! Fall back on me, now!”
Brady half-turned and prepared to move.
“Look out!” Graves screamed his warning, but the queen dove and snapped out one jagged front leg, burying it into Brady’s back and impaling him on a narrow, barbed limb. The soldier glanced at Graves for one split second, his eyes wide with disbelief.
The queen snapped her leg back and released the barbs, throwing Brady two dozen meters backwards, his body rag-dolling through the air. A swarm of pale creatures was on him as he landed, devouring him in seconds.
Graves’ stomach lurched. This was all his fault.
The distinctive chatter of 249 fire grew louder as Yarvis approached, Quezar right next to him.
“We gotta break for it, Sarge!” Quezar yelled. Graves nodded and looked back, seeing that McCally was crossing a stone platform over the lava trench. The passage was close now.
“I’ll hold here,” Graves said. “You two break for it. I’ll take as many down as I can.”
Yarvis and Quezar glared at him then each other, not sure what to do for a moment.
“Just fucking go!” Graves screamed and charged forward, away from the passage, his weapon exploding in fire.
Yarvis shook his head. “I’m staying with you!” He shifted, his weapon lifting just as three of the Morlocks struck from his blind side, slamming into him and knocking him backwards. As Graves turned, he saw two Morlocks tear Yarvis apart, their limbs striking like pistons, blasting blood and gore upwards in spurts.
“Ronnie!” screamed Quezar, headed his way.
“Luis, fucking watch your back!”
Another stray Morlock leapt, jumping from the approaching horde and arching through the air. Quezar turned too late as the creature smashed into him, front legs slamming down through his shoulders, pinning him to the stone ground. The creature reared up and whipped his legs apart, tearing off Quezar’s arms and sending his weapon skidding across the ground towards Graves. The sergeant fired the last of his rounds, then tossed the M4 aside and scooped up Quezar’s.
Graves firmed his lips, drew a breath, and turned and ran, his team no more.
“Go go go go!” he screamed to McCally as he charged, hoping they could make it.
* * *
McCally stared at the carnage in horror as Quezar was torn limb from limb. She turned as Graves shouted, seeing him running over the stone floor, waving for her to run. The nearby lava was cooking her skin, crisping the flesh as she stood in the mouth of the passage.
Graves halted for a moment, turning and firing his M4, taking down a trio of creatures that led the pack chasing him. He spun back around and ran, nearly catching up with the scientist as she entered the passage. She turned and faced him
“Keep running!” he yelled.
“Graves, behind you!”
; The queen’s barbed arm moved quickly, ramming down through Graves’ shoulder as he turned. It thrust with such force it punctured his torso where the arm met the body, burying itself in the stone floor and pinning Graves to the ground like an insect in a museum.
To his credit, Graves didn’t scream. He clamped his jaws and lips together in a firm, narrow grimace, his hand still wrapped tight around the trigger of Quezar’s M4.
“Sergeant!” McCally shouted rushing towards him.
Graves reached into his holster and pulled out his Glock 19 pistol, throwing it to her. “Take this. Take this and run.”
“I… I can’t—”
“Just go!” he screamed, the tendons in his neck pulling taut, his face flushed and red.
“What are you going to do?” she yelled back, backtracking up the passage. She could already feel the soothing cool air of night blowing down on the back of her neck. It was like a cool glass of water on a hot, summer day.
Graves turned his head back towards the queen. She was lowering herself towards him, snarling. “I’m going to see about upsetting this balance.”
He swung the M4 around and pulled the trigger on the 203 launcher, driving a grenade into the face of the queen. The detonation shook the passage, knocking chunks of rock and stone down around McCally, who ducked and retreated as it showered over her. The queen’s arm separated at the torso with the explosion and she reared up, screaming, her horde of drones swarming to her aid.
“Come with me!” McCally shouted at the sergeant as he wrapped his hand tight around the severed barb of the queen’s arm. He poised there, ready to yank, but must have realized the jagged barbs of the severed leg could tear something vital open and he’d bleed out.
“No,” Graves said. “I need to see this through.” Before she could reply, he had thrown himself to his feet and was fishing a large shell out of a pouch on his vest, pumping it into the round tube mounted below his gun barrel. McCally tensed her fingers around the handle of the Glock, turned and threw herself up the passage at a dead run.