Rising from the surface, oily, black water cascading from its body in a malevolent waterfall, was a Chittrix.
11
Julia stumbled in retreat, her mouth falling open in horror. The Chittrix rose smoothly, driven from the water by its immense hindquarters and spiked tail.
Fox remained oblivious, his back to the river.
The base of Julia’s spine collided with a sharp metal edge, and her belly became loose and liquid as the Chittrix nightmare sliced through the damp air toward them. Her mouth opened, but there was no air in her lungs to scream.
Sawyer clocked her expression. His head twisted and realization flashed across his face as he raised his weapon simultaneously.
The Chittrix arced across the vaulted ceiling, slivery-grey in the strobing light, an alien shark diving effortlessly fifteen feet above their heads. Water sluiced in silver sheets from the barbed spine and scaled, black body.
Sawyer fired several quick bursts with his pulse rifle then grabbed Julia roughly by her upper arm, forcing her frozen feet into motion. She stumbled after him but terror made her feet clumsy and she sprawled headlong, her hands jarring painfully on the cold floor.
Fox ducked in response to the shots. One hand flew up to protect his skull as he dropped to his knees, the other fumbled for the weapon holstered at his hip.
Violet spun on her heel, raising her MP5 in tandem with Garrick and Hardy, the snub-noses of their weapons directed at the barbed invader. Her fingers squeezed the trigger, unleashing a deadly spray at the Chittrix.
Julia screamed now, her voice drowned out in the violent weapon-fire. She staggered onto to her feet, but before she could run, Sawyer shoved her across the gritty floor toward the far wall, stepping between her and the Chittrix. Julia’s face collided with concrete cheek first, her teeth snapping in her mouth and piercing her tongue, releasing a hot, coppery bloom. She scrabbled to turn, compelled to watch the nightmare unfolding behind her.
It had come from the river. The river that supplied the base via miles of underground channels.
The Chittrix landed on the concrete floor of the plant room, the impact vibration burrowing under Julia’s skin. Its clawed hind legs scraped for purchase as elongated pincers on its forelimbs stretched for the closest human.
Fox crawled, his legs slipping in a frenzied panic. His hands clawed at the floor as he tried desperately to pull himself away from the alien nightmare.
He wasn’t fast enough.
One bulbous, clubbed-front mandible hit him, crashing into his side as he dragged himself to his feet. Fox contorted, his feet leaving the ground as he was thrown through the air, one shoe lost. He hit the rock wall of the cavern ten feet above the ground, his body crumpling against the cragged surface before dropping in a bloody pile.
Julia watched, horrified, terror overwhelming her as everything seemed to unfold in slow motion. The Chittrix screamed triumphantly, rearing on its hindquarters over Fox’s inert form. Ammunition riddled its abdomen and thorax but the Chittrix was defiant and its head whipped violently, evading the onslaught of fire.
Its tail lashed forward in a bone-crushing sweep, knocking Sawyer and Violet flat. Sawyer brought his weapon up with barely a pause but Violet lay motionless for a second. Then she rolled onto her front, pulling her hands under her body and crawled to her hands and knees. Julia sucked in a hitching gasp of relief.
The Chittrix lunged. It bellowed, elongating its neck and baring shards of glinting teeth that crisscrossed each other in a hellish jumble.
Julia recoiled from the battle cry as she finally made it back onto her feet. Her attention was drawn to the rear of the cavern by a pregnant swelling in the river. As she watched, the water rose and split in a slash of grey bubbles as a second Chittrix emerged.
Fuck.
Finally, her brain overrode her paralysis, and she sprinted across the open floor to the pile of man that was Fox.
Garrick, Foster, Hardy, and Violet now surrounded the first Chittrix. The four of them danced in and out of its grasp, taunting it with bullets as Garrick’s machete sliced noisily through exposed gaps in the alien armor. Sawyer bellowed and ran to the edge of the water, his gun aimed at the second Chittrix swimming with powerful strokes toward him.
Julia slid to her knees in front of Fox, jagged grit cutting into her flesh. He lay facing the wall, and warm blood soaked her shins instantly. She placed two fingers on his neck; a thready pulse skittered under her fingertips. He was still alive. She leaned over him, checking his airway was clear, then heaved him into the recovery position. One hand flopped uselessly against the concrete while his other twisted from the elbow at an unnatural angle.
The screams behind Julia grew louder, a cacophony of brutal threats from the Chittrix as it bobbed and weaved, and the battle cries of the human fighters who rallied against it. The brutality filled her ears against her will.
She wanted to press her palms to her skull to block out the sounds, but her hands found the wet mess of Fox’s abdomen instead. He was bleeding out. She tore her cotton t-shirt over her head, the water-chilled air pebbling her skin. Shivering in her bra, she balled the t-shirt into a tight wad then pressed it against the exposed, wet sloppiness of his wound. She wanted to scream for a doctor, but there was no point, every other pair of hands held a weapon directed at the Chittrix. Julia huddled protectively over him. She’d never liked him much, but kneeling here in his blood, she was confronted with his humanity, the slender thread they shared against the Chittrix. She spoke in his ear, whispering that he was going to be okay. His eyelids fluttered, but it was impossible to tell if he was conscious.
She risked a glance over her shoulder. Foster and Garrick were slick with yellow Chittrix fluid. Garrick danced close with his machete while Foster unleashed more bullets into the underside of the Chittrix’s skull. It howled and lashed out. Stubby claws hit Foster on the temple and hurled him to the ground.
“Sawyer!” Julia cried.
He was on his hands and knees, close to the barrier that separated the basement from the dark void of water below. He ripped a cable from the bank of computers near the water’s edge. While he struggled and cursed in the blinking light, Violet distracted the Chittrix in the water. It surged repeatedly for the edge of the platform, but Violet was ready every time, with a storm of fire that kept it gaining purchase on the platform. It hissed with frustration, churning the water to foam.
Sawyer staggered across the concrete to join Violet, hauling the now-disengaged cable with him. Violet stepped back, and he lunged forward, flinging the cable into the water where it connected with the surface in a deafening crack.
All hell broke loose.
The Chittrix in the water arched backward with a throttled howl. Julia recoiled, her shoulders rising in a futile attempt to protect her ears as she staunched the flow of blood from Fox’s torn body.
The first Chittrix spasmed at the cry of its companion, its head snapping round with whip-crack speed to the seething water.
Sawyer dove on top of Violet, shielding her body.
Finally, the power shorted out with a splintering boom and the second Chittrix crashed under the water, a huge tidal wash of grey foam covering its dying form. Sparks flew across the surface in arcs of blue and yellow light, then one of the computer control panels exploded, filling the air with projectile missiles of hot plastic and metal shards. Smoke obscured the air, rich with the stench of burning meat.
The first Chittrix spun and howled, teeth bared in fury. It leaped toward Violet and Sawyer but hurtled over them, its injured body twitching as it barreled through the air toward the river.
It shrieked as it hit the boiling water, plunging under the surface in one sleek motion and driving past the floating corpse of its companion. With a final snap of its tail, the Chittrix was gone.
12
Chaos ruled.
Sawyer sprinted along the corridors, steering the gurney to get Fox to the medical bay. The relentless flashing blue light of the
alarm continued to blaze against his eyes. Julia ran in jagged steps on the other side of the stretcher, her hands still pressing her t-shirt to Fox’s abdomen. Her arms were dark with blood, her belly and the curve of her breasts, a black sticky mess. A thick smear marred her forehead where she’d pushed her hair out the way.
Everything within him fired harder now that he knew she was safe, but his stomach remained contracted into a hot, painful knot of anger, and his hands gripped the gurney handles too tight. Seeing her like this made him crazy; it was no way to live. Julia had nearly died and the Chittrix had invaded the one place where they were meant to be safe.
The ground-level entrances to the base were hidden either in decoy buildings or under the cover of natural screens, and secured behind inches-thick steel doors. Since the destruction of the primary Chittrix hive in London six months ago, they had all rested a little easier in their beds.
Foolishly, it seemed. The water was their vulnerable spot. The one area they’d thought was secure because it was an underground river and, seriously, how the fuck would air-breathing insects like the Chittrix make their way through miles of subterranean water?
The gurney bumped the swing-doors of the infirmary unit. They hustled through, meeting Jamie Edwards their chief medic as he pulled on blue sterile gloves and shouted at Mary, his nursing assistant. They pushed the gurney up against the wall, next to a small bank of medical equipment. Edwards placed his hands on top of Julia’s, maintaining pressure on Fox’s wound.
His voice was calm and authoritative. “I can take it from here.”
Sawyer unwrapped his hands from the stretcher bar, his fingers white with tension. Edwards barked out commands, bending low to assess the damage the Chittrix had inflicted on Fox.
The medics swung into action, calling out long names of drugs and obscure procedures. Sawyer retreated, his mind flashing to another time when he’d stood, useless, as doctors had fought to save Beth, to bring her back from the brink of a drug overdose so she could repeat the whole stupid thing over again. He remembered standing beside the starched white of her bed sheet, her skin dusky blue, her fingernails tinged indigo at the root, and white oxygen tubes taped to her nostrils and lips.
His nails cut into his palms as raging inadequacy washed over him. He swallowed, staring down at his feet and counted to ten. He was an expert at dismissing the memories, but unable to stop them assailing him in the first place. When he looked up, Julia was at his side.
She took his hand, her fingers sticky with blood. This was his life now. This was what was important. This woman, and these people with whom he was forging a new life. He was damned if he was going to let the Chittrix take that from him. He tugged her hand.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Julia resisted his pull, her ashen face fixated on the blur of medical activity around them. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”
Sawyer was silent. Every surface surrounding the bed was splattered with black blood.
He had no answer to her question.
He took her to her room and put her in the shower, stripping off and stepping in behind her. He washed her back, belly and breasts, tenderly rinsing pink-stained soap from her skin. She pressed her hands to the tiled wall, her thighs trembling with shock.
Finally, he turned off the shower and wrapped her in his bath towel. She hugged the terry cloth to her face, and when he smoothed it from her cheek, her skin was damp from hot tears. A small, sob escaped her lips in a tiny hiccup. He brushed her hair from her cheek and kissed her on the forehead, then pulled her into a tight embrace.
“It’s going to be okay.”
Her head shook in disagreement. “No. It’s not, Sawyer. It’s not. Nothing about this is okay. Fox almost bled out right in my arms. His blood was pulsing through my fingers. I felt it. I actually felt it.” She hiccupped again and buried her face in his chest.
Sawyer closed his eyes and rested his face against the damp softness of her hair. They had been lulled into a false sense of security by the destruction of the primary hive. They’d known the Chittrix weren’t gone, but the respite had been so amazing they’d convinced themselves things had changed. But the Chittrix weren’t gone. They’d adapted, just as they’d adapted to everything else the human race had thrown at them.
He squeezed the top of her arms. “Let’s get dried off and find the others.”
Sawyer left Julia to find herself some dry clothes while he pulled on some he’d snatched as they’d made their way down to the residential quarters. He dressed silently, lost in the shock of the attack, then left, wanting some time alone to gather his thoughts.
When he made it down to the basement, the lights were back on. Sawyer was relieved someone had managed to turn off the goddamn strobing alarm that had turned the Chittrix attack into some surreal nightclub killing.
Hardy paced the room, pulse rifle cocked and armed. He looked ready to nuke a mouse if it blinked at him sideways. Foster was motionless on the floor, his head resting on his knee, weapon still propped upright in his hand. Violet knelt next to him, smoothing her hand across the soft, blonde buzz of his hair. She nodded at Sawyer as he entered the room and mouthed one word. Fox. Sawyer shook his head and made a balancing motion with the flat of his hand. Her eyes closed, and her hand stilled at the back of Foster’s head.
Sawyer hesitated, halfway across the room. He’d never seen defeat on V’s face before, but he saw it now.
Fuck. How could they have misjudged things so badly?
Foster raised his head and lifted one hand in a half-hearted greeting. He began to stand, but Violet pressed on his shoulders then pointed Sawyer in the direction of the railing.
Sawyer walked to the edge of the room, reluctance dragging heavy on his boots. He glanced down. The dead Chittrix had been pulled from the water and Anna half-knelt in front of it. Garrick paced up and down the edge of the platform, weapon at the ready, along with two men Sawyer didn’t recognize.
Sawyer climbed down the ladder. He approached Anna, crouching over the dead Chittrix. Its exoskeleton glistened under the artificial lights, a play of shimmering orange, green, and azure. Up close, the stench was appalling, acrid and nauseating, scalding the back of his throat. Anna had tied a white surgical mask across her face, but Sawyer doubted it made much difference.
She straightened, concern etched on her face.
“Fox?”
Sawyer frowned. “They’re working on him right now. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“And Julia?”
Sawyer bobbed his head. He found it difficult to form coherent sentences as anger and a hot desire for revenge burned through his body.
“Shouldn’t you be with her?”
Sawyer shot Anna a glance, but she stared right back. Her eyebrows were raised in a questioning arc that took no prisoners.
Did she know?
He was saved from answering when Hardy strode over. He kicked the Chittrix with one heavy-booted foot and swore.
Anna grabbed Hardy by the arm, stepping up close to speak firmly in his ear.
“That is not helping. We’ve never seen one like this before, and I have only a short time to examine it before the acid in the poison sacs disintegrates the entire body.”
“Bastard swimming bugs.” Hardy spat out in disgust.
Sawyer looked down at the Chittrix. Hardy was right. Swimming. The basic shape of the Chittrix was similar to the many he’d seen dead, but there were subtle differences.
Like the others, it had powerful haunches designed for leaping incredible distances and running faster than a man. It also had two sets of clawed upper limbs, one set low in the abdomen, the other high in the chest. That was where the familiarity ended.
Anna squatted beside the main arms and spread the digits. She pointed with the tip of her scalpel at the dark green skin that webbed between the fingers of the beast, creating wide paddles for powering through the water.
Sawyer didn’t like to think how fast a Chittr
ix might swim with those big webbed hands and its streamlined, powerful body propelling it.
“They’ve adapted,” Anna said simply. She let the scalpel hang. “I’ve never seen this mutation before. I’d hoped that with the destruction of the primary hive, we’d made a permanent dent in the local population. Now I wonder if they didn’t just relocate somewhere else until they got themselves back up to speed. Under London. In the sewers. In the rivers. I don’t know.” She blew out a huff of frustration.
“Which do you think is most likely?”
Anna’s blue eyes were bright with intelligence. “I suspect this is a recent mutation. The Chittrix are insect life forms. We know there are seven days from egg to larvae, and another seven days for the larvae to gorge themselves. Then they form pupae for around ten days before emerging as fully-grown Chittrix. These things grow at such a phenomenal rate, they can go through many generations and adapt to their environment in an incredibly short space of time. Garrick and I saw evidence of this before, in the Chittrix we killed in the mortuary. It had earth-based minerals incorporated into its exoskeleton. This—” She picked up her scalpel again and pointed with a flick of the blade. “This is just the next stage in evolution, adapting to a new planet and its environment.” She indicated lower on the body. “Even its hind claws are webbed.”
She raised her eyebrows. “There’s more.”
“Don’t need to see anymore.” Hardy shook his head and walked away in disgust. “Just point me in the direction of the next watery bastard, and I’ll blow it up for you,” he shouted over his shoulder.
Anna’s shoulders sagged as she wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. Lines of exhaustion and tension marked her face.
“We’re meant to be safe here.” She stabbed the metal grate with the point of her scalpel. “People are camping near the exits because they think it’s too dangerous to return to their quarters.”
Sawyer: Scifi Alien Invasion Romance (Earth Resistance Book 2) Page 6