Gremlins are Malfunctioning

by Susan Lain

  Tiptoeing meant he wasn't proceeding very fast, but he didn't dare pick up momentum in fear of making too much noise. Eliot gripped the handle of the gun, keeping his forefinger off the trigger so he wouldn't accidentally discharge the weapon.

  He hugged the wall whenever he came along a curve or a corner. The shadows intensified around him, or was that just his imagination? He gulped, stuck in his personal horror movie, and he wasn't even a fan of the genre.

  Apart from the lobby and Gabrielle in the corridor, he saw no one, dead or alive, conscious or unconscious, standing upright or lying on the ground. Where the hell was everybody?

  When the bomb had hit, all the doors had opened on automatic. The same was true now.

  Eliot peered into the rainomaly lab. The fractured glass, with its starry white pattern, could easily be seen even under emergency lighting. The rest of the room remained cloaked in shadows.

  Since he heard nothing alarming, he headed inside and through the lab to the storage room door he'd spotted earlier. According to Alek, all the laboratories had adjacent rooms for supplies or what-not. The metal door was firmly closed. When Eliot tried the handle, it moved but the door did not open.

  A low thump on the door startled him and he jumped back.

  "Who's there?" demanded a familiar female voice.

  "Oh my God, Alessandra?" Eliot leaned in closer. "It's me, Eliot. Are you okay?"

  "Eliot? Thank the stars. Yes, I'm fine. There's nine of us in here. Can you get us out?"

  "The door is locked. Do you have extra keys?"

  "There should be a small metal box on one of the desks. Do you see it?"

  "Wait."

  Eliot rushed around the room. Notes and clipboards riddled the desks, some tossed onto the floor. Broken coffee cups were littered here and there, spilled liquid dripped off the desks. Someone had been searching for something. The TLA wouldn't have done that. They'd been looking for the mythkin, not random objects.

  A tiny metal box had rolled under a fallen chair. Eliot fished it out, pulled out a keychain, and ran back to the door. He tried all of them, one by one, until the lock clicked.

  Alessandra led a group of disheveled scientists out of the storage room filled with office supplies. Her dark skin appeared paler than before and the bun on her head wasn't tight anymore, with strands falling down to frame her stern face.

  Eliot wasted no time in explaining matters. "There's been an invasion. Two groups. The TLA, only four of them, are unaccounted for, carrying non-lethal weapons. The other is the HPB, Chief of Police Newell's private army of mercenaries trying to kill mythkin with an advanced phase resonance weapon. They are here too. They have a hidden base of operations on a sublevel beneath this facility. They killed everyone in the lobby and they use lethal rounds. They shot Gabrielle, the leader of the TLA. Alek and I sent her up for medical treatment. The place is on lockdown. Here." Eliot handed Alessandra the radio. "Use it to contact the guard above. Sergeant Oakley. He'll let you out. I'll keep searching for members of the two groups still around."

  Alessandra and the other scientists stared at him, eyes wide, dumbfounded, mouth hanging open. "Just how long were we in there?" she gasped.

  Eliot snorted. "Everyone okay?" When he received nothing but nods, he continued, "The lobby's been secured. So has the route from here to there. Go, but be careful. We don't know how many HPB gunmen are still here."

  Even as he spoke, Eliot was amazed at how easily he seemed to fall into this routine, to use sparse words and quick commands, to take charge of the situation. Alek was a good teacher. This was what he would have done, Eliot estimated.

  "How many more researchers are in here?" Eliot asked.

  Alessandra shook her head, pensive. "It was still early morning. Not everyone had arrived. We were gathered together from several labs, so…not many? A little over a dozen perhaps?" She touched his arm gently. "Please be cautious. Take no unnecessary risks."

  Eliot nodded, trying to be appear more confident than he felt.

  The group of scared scientists fled out of the lab, single file, with Alessandra in the lead. She really had nerves of steel. Eliot envied her. Once they were gone and out of sight, Eliot returned to his solitary search.

  After rounding another corner, he stopped dead.

  Another body lay on the floor by the wall, unmoving.

  Eliot swallowed down his fear and approached the figure with caution, stepping on the balls of his feet to stay silent. He kept glancing around, but no one appeared. Even with the dim lighting, Eliot caught a glint of piercings. The closer he got, he saw the mass of tattoos, the smudged makeup, the rainbow-colored stripes of black hair and the torn leather clothes.

  Eliot gasped as he finally recognized the man from both countless magazine covers and even their earlier encounter at the rainomaly lab.

  "Berry Bomb!" He knelt next to the body and sighed in relief when he discerned the slight heaving of the punk rock star's chest. He was alive. Blood trickled down his temple from a gash in his forehead. Beyond that he didn't seem injured.

  "Hey." Eliot shook the man's arm, trying to rouse him. "Wake up. BB, c'mon."

  The man grunted, his eyelids fluttering. He tried to pull himself up but clapped his head, as if in pain. "The fuck…?" Berry Bomb's notorious high-pitch voice was absent, his tone was instead hoarse and feeble. He looked around, seemingly confused. "Where's Gaby?"

  Surprised, Eliot gasped. "Gabrielle Newell? You're her inside man?" It seemed the rebellious young woman and the gender-neutral punk rocker were friends.

  "Who're you?" the punk asked, a grimace of agony over his thin, bony features.

  Eliot harrumphed. "Who the hell cares? Gaby's been shot and this whole place has gone to shit. HPB has killed almost everyone. Can you stand? You need to get to the elevator."

  He grabbed the whip-thin punk under his arm and helped him up on his feet. Berry Bomb groaned and leaned against the wall, panting. "Where are the others?"

  "Elvira? Felix?" Eliot shook his head. "No idea. C'mon. We have to go."

  "What about the rest of the scientists?" Berry Bomb asked, surprising Eliot positively, and gestured over his shoulder. "They're still locked up in the light lab. Unless you've freed them?" His inquisitive gaze appeared more focused now.

  "No. Just the rainomaly lab." Eliot glanced around the hallway. He couldn't waist time. "You know where they are held. Can you get there, free them, and take everybody back to the lobby and the elevator? How badly are you hurt?"

  Berry Bomb straightened up, grimacing, and seemed to reinforce himself. "Just a bump on the head. I'll be fine. Find my friends, and I'll get the people here out."

  Eliot waved toward the other end of the hallway. "I will head that way. You save the others and guide them up the elevator. Paramedics and the police will be waiting upstairs." He impatiently waved Berry Bomb silent. "No helping the police presence, I'm afraid. Go."

  Grousing under his breath and supporting himself against the wall, Berry Bomb directed an unsteady step toward the light labs. Eliot watched him go until the punk melded with the shadows.

  Sighing, he knew his work was far from over.

  *~*~*

  The length of corridors stretched into an infinite curve of labyrinthine and shaded passages. Eliot discovered no bodies which was good. He saw or heard nothing either which did unnerve him. The eeriness gave him chills, his skin breaking out in goosebumps.

  If someone had told him two weeks ago that he would be raiding a government facility for armed gunmen and have the best sex of his life, all in the span of a single day, he would have fallen over laughing. What had become of his life? Yet he knew he wouldn't have changed a thing.

  Eliot searched every lab he came across, checked every supply closet and storage room, and surveyed every dark corner for bodies. No scientists, no ecoterrorists, no mercenaries. So far he was hit and miss. Where the hell had the two groups vanished? Eliot decided to focus on finding a means of getting deeper underground. The
entrance to the hidden level had to exist.

  Eventually Eliot arrived in corridors poorly illuminated by black lights by the floor. So this was where the oil hellions were studied. Where was Alek, then?

  With a quick peek through open doors, Eliot confirmed no one was around. Labs with huge vats of armored glass, filled to the brim with black ooze, dotted the corridor. Why so many labs for a single species of mythkin? Unless they weren't all for oil hellions.

  An open door, this one almost torn off its hinges, stopped Eliot dead in his tracks. He hunched low, glanced in every direction, and listened intently. Nothing disturbed the ghostly silence that engulfed him, as if trying to swallow him up.

  Approaching with caution, Eliot scanned the inside with a quick glimpse—and noticed that the back wall was missing, with a doorway in its place. Stone stairs descended into the darkness, as did dirt-covered footprints.

  So that was where the merciless mercenaries had gone, Eliot mused warily. Their tracks, still fresh, suggested they hadn't yet left. That left open the question, whether Eliot should follow in the hopes of stopping the bad guys. He wasn't a fighter or a gunman. He probably wouldn't stand much of a chance against professionals.

  Then he heard a sound, one he'd never heard before and never wanted to hear again.

  With his heart in his throat, Eliot hurried down the stairs into the maw of mayhem.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Alek snuck through the halls without making a sound. While he paid attention to his surroundings, always expecting trouble, he was also worried about Eliot. If something happened to him, Alek wasn't sure what he would do.

  As hard as it was, he pushed the thoughts of Eliot out of his mind. He had to focus on the task at hand.

  Alek advanced quickly, sweeping each room with steady speed. The labs were vacated of occupants, side rooms empty, and the hallways cleared. An occasional body of a scientist could be seen dotting the floor, each one shot and killed. Alek counted seven in all as he reached the black sector.

  He spotted four deceased who weren't scientists—and two were familiar faces. The blonde girl's blue eyes would never be open again, and the trim-bearded hipster-type young man appeared equally motionless. Elvira and Felix had both breathed their last gasps.

  Crouching, Alek studied the bodies of two people he'd known. Not a twinge within. Alek kept his feelings in check. The TLA was partially responsible for their deaths, but Elvira and Felix had also made their own choices. Alek did care that they had died such futile, needless deaths. Trying to make the world a better place was admirable, but one needed to have ones facts checked.

  With a silent prayer for the recently deceased, Alek continued onward.

  He rounded the next corner and came to a supply closet. It should have been closed—but the door had been yanked open with furious force, leaving it tilted precariously from the top hinge.

  Inside Alek noted the back wall missing, an opening in its place, and stairs going down. He had no doubts about what he'd discovered, so with a purposeful, but stealthy, stride, Alek headed further underground.

  No cobwebs in sight, the lighting gloomed low and only filthy footprints of dust and dirt accompanied him into the belly of the beast. Alek kept his gun close, his breathing normal, and his step light. He heard no voices and saw no moving shadows or figures. The air smelled clean, as in of detergents and chemical agents. Whatever the HPB had been developing down there, it caused no odors or leaks.

  At the foot of the stairs, a single doorway heralded entry to a large cavernous space. Rough-hewn walls, an arch ceiling with a few dry stalactites, and a smooth stone floor formed the chamber. Laptops, computer screens, notepads, toolboxes, machines were all strewn about without any order or logical arrangement.

  Four men paced the length of the room, arguing in hushed voices.

  Alek realized, much to his vexation, that Gabrielle had neglected to tell him exactly how many mercenaries she'd seen. He only had eyes on four but there could be more. Considering the mercenaries had swiped the phase resonance gun from Gabrielle and left without ensuring her demise, that implied they either didn't want to waste time or the manpower to completely take over the facility.

  Switching off the safety, Alek pondered his best strategy. He couldn't enter the chamber without all four men seeing him. The solid tables would provide cover but not against four. Could he take out at least two before the last two were alerted?

  The cold barrel of a gun pressed into the back of his head. Fuck. So there were five bad guys, not four.

  "Inside," a man grunted from behind.

  Alek raised his hands and the man snatched his gun away. Another push to his skull forced Alek to stumble into the chamber. Four men swiveled to face him, weapons raised. They all looked angry and confused. Had they not expected someone to find them—with a broken door and stairs leading down in plain view? Had they not ransacked the entrance? Perhaps…mythkin?

  "Who the hell is this?" the closest man asked stiffly. "Where's Newell?"

  "Newell's dead," replied the man standing behind Alek, his gun aimed at Alek's head.

  Another argument began, this one louder, everyone talking at once over each other. Clearly a disagreement of some kind existed within the group. Alek could only make out a couple of words here and there but it seemed three men hadn't been compensated financially for their efforts. They demanded to be paid now; two wondered why they had only one prototype weapon to show for a year's worth of hard work; and one complained that they hadn't signed up to wage war with the U.S. government.

  So the phase resonance gun was a one-of-a-kind prototype, Alek gathered. If it were taken out of the equation, nothing would threaten the mythkin. At least not for the foreseeable future.

  The attention of the mercenaries was divided. Alek might not get a better chance.

  He sidestepped, whirled low in a crouch, and then knocked out the feet from under the man behind him. The thug landed on his back with a thud and a grunt, a gunshot ringing through the air.

  As Alek reached for his own gun, four men turned their focus on him. Alek fired, ducked and rolled, and made it into cover behind a desk.

  "Shit, Tobin's down," someone shouted.

  "Go around him," another voice ordered with a yell.

  "Think twice about that," Alek called out, ready to move at a moment's notice. "Killing a bunch of scientists is one thing. Murdering a federal agent is something else. The government will never stop hunting you."

  "We've done worse," came a grunt to his left.

  Alek faced the sound, aiming his gun toward the unseen speaker. Too late, he realized he'd been duped. By the time he spun around in the other direction, two guns were already pointed at his head.

  The man he'd knocked down grabbed Alek's arm, yanked him out of hiding, and slapped him across the face. "Stupid dumb fuck."

  How repetitive, Alek thought dryly, but wisely kept his mouth shut. His lip bled, the taste of copper sour on his tongue. The ache stung at first but grew dull fast, throbbing along the beat of his heart.

  "Put him in the chair," the thug said, shoving Alek forward. A metal chair, reminiscent of old-fashioned dentist reclining seats, did not look inviting.

  Alek had trouble telling who was who even without the mercenaries wearing masks. Two of them escorted him the chair and pushed him down. Metal bars locked over Alek's wrists, quite effectively immobilizing him. Fuck.

  "This is a research facility," the lead goon muttered with a cruel smirk. "So let's do some practical tests."

  He raised a weapon unlike any Alek had seen. Futuristic and smooth in design, the silvery tone gleamed, polished and clean. It was a two-handed weapon, not a one-handed gun. No lights or colors flashed or glinted. Resonance wasn't visible by human eyes, that much Alek knew. Humans could only see the effect.

  Another merc punched the lead goon on the arm. "If everyone's dead, we should get the hell out of here, not torture some asshole. I want my fucking money now."

&
nbsp; Murmurs of agreement spread through the rest of the men, now only four left in total.

  The leader seemed to ponder the demand. His gaze swept over the others.

  Then he shrugged—and aimed the gun at them. He fired thrice in rapid succession before anyone could make a move against him or run away.

  The first man hit screamed. The other joined him in a shrill chorus of frightened shrieks.

  Then their shouts were cut short, and silence reigned.

  Alek watched in horror as each of the men…faded. In a matter of seconds, Alek could see right through them, as if they were transparent or not entirely there. Briefly they were entirely gone.

  The first slashes appeared almost as fast as the men reappeared in this reality.

  The men arched their backs or bent forward, blood showering from gashes like red powder. Wounds emerged all over their bodies. Some seemed to be claw marks, others bite marks, a few just clobbering bruises.

  Alek grimaced, fighting against his restraints, unable to help anyone.

  The screams continued when the men solidified—only to be broken by another transition since sound didn't carry through the phase barrier.

  Every time they grew translucent, they seemed to be in horrible pain, their mouths open in yells no could hear. Invisible creatures attacked them left and right. When they solidified fully, their bodies were shattered and broken, bruised and bloodied.

  One man returned dead, falling on the floor in a quiet heap of busted limbs. One by one, the rest fell prey to the same dismal fate.

  None of them had been able to prevent the phase shifting into the alternate dimension. And every time they'd vanished entirely, they'd been assaulted. Obviously the mythkin took territorial incursions seriously, with intruders facing a gory death by bludgeoning.

  The stench of fresh blood hung around the room and reached Alek's nostrils. He wanted to puke. He'd almost forgotten it. The metallic flavor still hung on his tongue from his busted lip.