The Complete Aliens Omnibus, Volume 3

by Sandy Schofield

  Of course for it to be of any value, they had to get started. In another hour his lab techs would be pounding on the door…

  “Where’s your sense of sport? Make it through the labyrinth and I might even let you live.”

  It sounded false even to him, but he had to give them some incentive.

  McGuinness crawled to the fallen doctor, slowly righted herself, and then helped him to his feet.

  “You all right?”

  He coughed, shook his head. “No.”

  McGuinness took one of his arms and they started for the door; wonderful! Church pressed the entry switch, calling out after them helpfully as they entered the dark passage. “Watch that first step, it’s a lulu!”

  He pressed again, sealing them into the maze, then hurried back down the ramp to the video monitors.

  The large screen flickered on, showed the two of them standing just inside the entry, talking softly.

  “Now I’m really sorry, McGuinness.”

  She smiled somewhat ironically, the camera angle perfect. “Begging your pardon, but it’s a little late for that.”

  Gallows humor, how admirable! Church tapped a button, spoke into the com.

  “Move along now, children, or I’ll fry you where you stand.”

  They hesitated only a second before walking on, eyes wide in the mute darkness.

  Church sat down and leaned back, smiling.

  He was going to enjoy this.

  25

  It was dark in the passage, dark and cold. McGuinness shivered, bumps raising on the flesh of her bare arms, and wished vainly that the weather was all they had to worry about.

  They moved slowly toward a closed door at the end of the corridor, the only place to go; she could see the tiny, steady red lights of the video cameras that lined the walls, counted them absently. Four in the short hall, four different angles so that Church would be sure to get the cleanest shot.

  “Mad fucking scientist,” she muttered, hoped that the audio sensors carried that cleanly enough. Bad enough they were being sent to almost certain death—but that it was for that sick bastard’s amusement…

  Crespi glanced at her, then refocused his steady gaze on the closed door. “I—shouldn’t have listened to him, McGuinness; this is my fault, and—”

  “No, it’s his; he’s doing this. He would’ve picked us up and carried us here if you’d decided he was lying; he’s strong enough—he just wanted to watch you fuck up.”

  Crespi nodded, voice low. “Yeah, but I did fuck up—”

  “I’ll give you that,” she whispered. “But then, I signed up for this, remember? Tell you what—why don’t we get out of here and hash it out later over coffee…”

  He nodded again, the tiniest hint of a smile on his otherwise stern face. They inched closer to the door.

  It slid open suddenly in a faint hydraulic hiss. McGuinness tensed, saw Crespi do the same. They stood for a good half minute, searching the new darkness for some hint of motion, but there was nothing.

  She felt some tension drain from her aching muscles, the back of her neck—but not much. The shock that Church had delivered had left her worn out and sore all over, but the adrenaline that was now surging through her system wouldn’t allow her to relax, not for a second.

  Good.

  Crespi moved first, his expression suddenly cold and determined. A deep breath, and McGuinness followed.

  * * *

  Crespi tensed as the door hissed open, but there was no movement, no sudden, hurtling rush of teeth and claws. The blackness yawned before them, seemingly empty, the steady lights of the cameras ahead providing the barest illumination; Church must be using infra, or maybe a standard tachspeed…

  His mind was wandering. He shook himself mentally, tried to snap out of the aching malaise that enveloped him; his senses were dulled, no sleep, the electric shock, all that had happened so far—

  If he didn’t stay focused, they were dead.

  You’re dead anyway, you know it. You think Church is actually going to let you go, you really are asleep and dreaming.

  Right. But giving up wasn’t an option; he had McGuinness to think about—

  The thought stopped him. He searched the darkness ahead, frowning, replaying it again.

  If it was just him.

  You’d find a way to end it, wouldn’t you?

  No!

  Maybe…

  The inner debate was useless, moot; it wasn’t just him. But that he was that ready to die, to call an end to Church’s little game by sacrificing himself—that was frightening, perhaps scarier than the empty blackness in front of them and the threat of what lay beyond…

  Is it? You’re already dead, you died on that rock a million years ago, when you were the only one who walked away…

  Crespi scowled, suddenly furious with himself, with his stupid, childish neuroses, the fear that he’d carried with him for so long—and in that second, he felt a sudden clarity, a—letting go, like a locked door inside was opened, the ghosts nestled there set free.

  He was alive and the enemy was near; the past wasn’t relevant. If that made him a rah-rah boy, so be it, but he wasn’t going to torment himself with his right to suck air for one more goddamn minute.

  He stalked forward feeling suddenly wide awake, McGuinness right behind.

  And stepped right into the grinning face of an alien drone, waking it up.

  The creature screamed, reached for him, saliva dripping from its clutching teeth.

  Crespi stumbled backward, into McGuinness, turned to run back into the empty passage behind—

  “The door, don’t—” McGuinness shouted, clear and terrified, and she shoved him, pushed him away from the hydraulic exit as it sealed closed, locking them in with the shrieking demon.

  Crespi spun again, formed his hands into claws, ready to die fighting—

  The drone struggled, its howl lowering to a hiss, talons still outstretched—but it came no closer.

  It was harnessed to the wall on the left, a metal brace around its torso hooked to a reinforced panel. Its tail slapped uselessly against the floor, curling just out of reach. Enraged and helpless.

  —sound familiar?

  “It can’t get to us,” said Crespi, as much to reassure himself as McGuinness, who could surely see.

  “Until Church wants it to,” she said, her voice low and trembling.

  His hatred for Church was complete as he searched the darkness for an escape, a way to get past the leashed creature before the deranged scientist could release it.

  Church had better pray that they never got out.

  * * *

  The drone on the monitor snarled and hissed, starving, desperate to reach the captive morsels as they fell backward. Crespi would have been cut in half by the closing door if McGuinness hadn’t prevented it; she was sharp, perhaps sharper than he’d first thought.

  The harnessed creature moaned in hunger.

  There, there, pet; doggie want a cookie?

  Church let his hand hover over the release switch, then decided against it. Their adrenaline would be high, but he was hoping they would reach greater endorphin levels if let go a little longer; he needed their fury. Crespi was tired, probably the woman, too, but their anger at him would certainly blossom into some very nice testosterone.

  “It can’t get to us,” said Crespi.

  Oh, bravo! He’s an astute one—

  “Until Church wants it to.” McGuinness, sounding frightened and wary.

  That’s right, his mind whispered, you’ve hit on a great truth, madam. Her tune was quite different than a moment or so earlier, when she’d cursed him, called him a—

  Church smiled. Perhaps he should get a plaque made up of it, that would look fine on his desk: Colonel Doctor Paul Church, Mad Fucking Scientist. His associates would find it charming—

  She knew who was in control here, who had the say over their survival. Did Crespi? Or did he still think that he would win somehow, as infantile as
the concept was?

  He empathized, on some level, could comprehend helpless frustration and the drive to live; they were the same as the aliens in many regards. He could even feel sorry for them, their hopes and dreams laid to rest at the touch of a button. But he had seen the Truth through countless years of observation; he knew more than they were capable of knowing. The final outcome needed to be, would be the ultimate achievement, the glorious end to these unfortunate means. He was not an egomaniac searching for godhood; he was—

  Why, a mad fucking scientist!

  Church laughed. As fitting a title as any.

  He peered at the monitor, tapped a button to change shots. Crespi had spotted the ladder to the next level of the maze, the next step in their crucible.

  Church grinned, tapped another button. It was time for Crespi to learn who was in charge here.

  26

  Crespi pointed to the farthest corner of the sealed tunnel, his hand a vague, pale shape in the darkness. “Over there!”

  McGuinness looked, could see nothing except shadows, littered with camera lights. After a moment she made out a faint glow from just above where he’d pointed. And rungs, bolted into the wall.

  Together, they backed to the wall opposite the clawing drone, inched closer to the ladder, just out of the creature’s grasping reach. McGuinness struggled to keep her panic down, tried not to think about what Church could do with one finger, one switch to the harness release.

  They made it past, the drone screaming almost hysterically. It was probably starving, rabid to get loose, to tear into fresh meat—

  She buried the thought quickly. To their left, she could now make out another door, sealed. Up was the only way.

  Crespi kept his eye on the frantic drone, motioned for her to go first. McGuinness grabbed the highest rung she could manage and started to climb.

  Up and slowly up, the ladder seemed eternal, the faint light she’d noticed only a shade brighter. She was glad to be away from that hissing, shrieking darkness, but at least the drone there had been harnessed; she could be climbing into a crouching nest of them, waiting, drooling—

  A sudden stab of memory from her childhood—hide-and-seek with some forgotten playmate in an abandoned house, she the seeker; at each corner, seething with unknown shadow, a deep breath, heart pounding, the knowledge strong in her young mind that any second would come the surprise—

  “See anything?” His shout was hoarse and not as far below her as she’d imagined, maybe ten meters.

  She looked up, checked her progress for the billionth time. The ceiling of blackness was still just overhead.

  “It’s too dark.”

  Quiet below, the drone gone back to its low hissing. Another step. Another, her hands clammy with sweat. Another.

  She glanced up again. The source of light was definitely closer now; she could see where the rungs ended, an opening not far away.

  A way out.

  Thank God, thank God!

  She called down to him excitedly. “I think I see something! There’s light, it’s—”

  A sudden shadow, and she jerked her head up, knew that the hidden threat had made its move—

  The alien screamed in her face, a glob of spittle smacked her chin, its claws darted forward.

  And grabbed her.

  * * *

  Crespi heard it, heard her scream in response. He jumped to the rungs, scrambled up after her.

  “Sharon!”

  “Go back! Go back!”

  He looked up, saw that it had a hold of her by one shoulder. Her grip on the ladder was gone, and she kicked frantically in the air, trying to get loose—

  A sound like ripping cloth and she dropped a half meter, the drone screaming wildly. She hung by just her overshirt now—

  —why didn’t it putt her up—

  —the material giving rapidly.

  Crespi dropped back to the floor, readied to catch her, at least ease the impact—

  Another scream, much closer. He spun, frantic, as a small, dim light glowed to life in the chamber, illuminating the harnessed drone.

  And a click, somehow audible amid the screams, somehow incredibly loud as he realized what it meant.

  Church had unleashed the alien.

  * * *

  McGuinness screamed for Crespi to go back. If the alien let go, she’d knock him off the ladder.

  The pain was sharp, the dirty claws of the alien’s hand dug deeply into the flesh of her left shoulder. It cluttered madly, tried to lift her—

  And couldn’t. She felt the tremble of its weakened body, realized that it wasn’t strong enough.

  McGuinness began to flail, kicking, tried to bounce loose. She felt her flesh give way first, long tears in her shoulder as the creature’s grasp was jolted free. It clutched, shrieking—

  —and she fell, but it still had her, its long fingers enmeshed in the strap of her overshirt.

  The harnessed drone below seemed to scream in response, and a sudden dull light filtered up to her. She saw the blood running across her skin, soaking the tattered cloth, warming her breast.

  “Let—go!” A final, bouncing jump and the shirt gave, the drone howling furiously as she fell, curled her arms over her head.

  —bend your knees—

  She hit the floor, hard, felt one ankle give, pain shooting through her lower leg—but she had landed in a half crouch, and found she could stand…

  Looked around, the corridor almost brilliantly lit after the dark climb, saw Crespi. And in front of him, the drone. Loose.

  She ignored the pain, limped quickly to his side. There was nowhere else to go.

  The drone was bent down, hissing, but not moving any closer.

  “Church’s conditioning,” Crespi whispered tightly, and it clicked. The experiments had weakened them, it was why the drone at the ladder couldn’t lift her. And this one was waiting, knew that it would be shocked before it could attack, was looking for the fastest way to get to them—

  They had a chance.

  Behind her and above she heard the hissing of the thwarted drone, descending the metal rungs or maybe just preparing to leap…

  Movement behind her. She turned, panicked, heard the quieter hiss—

  —as the door slid open, revealing another dark chamber.

  “The door!”

  Crespi turned, saw the opening, didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her, twisted, and pushed as hard as he could. “Move!”

  She flew, stumbling, into the corridor, landed on the floor. She jumped to her feet and turned.

  The harnessed drone was joined by the other, the two of them about to lunge for Crespi, for the door—

  He ran, leapt as the entry started to slide closed, fell through the narrowing gap, the creatures right behind.

  She saw, could do nothing to stop it. One black talon darted forward, hit Crespi solidly, raked down—

  —and then was gone, the chamber sealed.

  There was blood everywhere.

  27

  Church frowned as Crespi crashed through the door, fell, his back ripped to pieces. It was too soon, really, although he supposed it couldn’t be helped…

  If he was dead, Church didn’t want to release another drone; there’d be nothing to salvage, not as hungry as they were.

  He watched as McGuinness ran to his side, watched and waited.

  * * *

  “Crespi? Tony?”

  She crouched down, a tight glance around the newest corridor, no drones, back to him, feeling sick and afraid, feeling like her earlier terror was nothing to what she experienced now.

  Crespi lay facedown, unmoving, the back of his shirt bloodied and shredded from the shoulders down to the bottom of his spine.

  —please don’t let him die, don’t leave me alone here—

  She pulled off the last of her tattered sleeveless overshirt, folded it, and looked for a place to staunch the blood flow. There was so much, it was impossible to tell where the worst was, where to put the com
press—

  He moaned, stirred, then winced in pain.

  “You’re hurt, shh, lay still,” she said, and placed one hand against the back of his head, stroked the dark, short hair there, feeling desperately frightened and not knowing what to do anymore.

  He’s going to die, soldier, you both are if you don’t keep moving!

  She knew it, but couldn’t make herself stand, wouldn’t.

  She wouldn’t leave him to die alone.

  * * *

  Crespi’s back was on fire. He groaned, tried to move—

  God! The pain was incredible, all-consuming, as if someone had whipped him mercilessly, flayed the living flesh until it had separated from the bone. Wet, thick heat spilled across his wounds, and he knew it was bad, really bad.

  McGuinness was near, telling him to lie still in a low, trembling voice, gently touching his hair. He kept his eyes closed, tried to concentrate on the feel of her hand; a woman’s hand, it brought up memories from before he was aware—a crooning, soft lullaby, the stroke of warm fingers…

  It was impossible. He was going to die, bleed to death on the dark floor of Church’s dark labyrinth. If the drones didn’t come first and rip them apart.

  Church.

  From out of his pain, he found focus. The man who’d done this to him, a sociopath who had kept his dark side hidden and hidden well, who had lied to his face and then sent him to death—all for the sake of his twisted, blasphemous work. The man who would kill Sharon McGuinness next, this good woman who waited to die beside him.

  Paul Church.

  Suddenly he was filled with a new heat, and it overrode his pain, beat it out in its raw, burning intensity. He opened his eyes, saw the shadowed chamber through a veil of red.

  Slowly, incredibly, he pushed himself up, felt the strain in his battered flesh, felt the wounds in his back scream anew as fresh blood poured over them.

  He started to stand, almost didn’t make it, but McGuinness was there, supporting him. He saw that she was injured, too, the skin of her shoulder ripped, the blood spilled out and drying on her tight undershirt.