Still, she urged everyone on, even as waves of deafening screams came from both directions. It helped that the cramped confines gave the creatures no space to evade the glare of her light other than back down the tunnel. She hoped it meant they wouldn’t be able to flank them.
Not that they were defenseless. Ellen Cafferty followed immediately behind, carrying the MTA lantern, and she seemed as capable in person as she always had on TV. And, of course, Dumont covered their rear. He had been her mentor and rock for most of her career, and she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather have on her six, holding back the tide of the smaller and faster monstrosities who had given chase from the vast cavern. Maybe David North . . .
She shook her head. Can’t think about him right now. Fight back the feelings. Need to focus.
And she really did need to concentrate: the confusing twists and turns, along with breathing in the thick air, had fogged Bowcut’s mind and destroyed her sense of direction. They were traveling upward. That’s all she knew. Where to, she didn’t know. Up was better than down, although after hearing the stories of the women being snatched from different locations, she feared they would end up lost in an endless labyrinth.
Worst still, she guessed the group had a few minutes of consciousness left at most before the creatures ripped apart their incapacitated bodies. Rotating the gas masks wasn’t enough to stop the poisoning of their lungs.
“Slow down for a minute,” Ellen said. “Let everyone catch up.”
Bowcut skidded to a halt. Looking back over her shoulder, she realized just how spread out they’d become.
Dammit, I’m losing my edge.
She thought about all she’d seen that day, and it wasn’t a surprise why. Christiansen and Dalton torn apart. The cop impaled on the stalactites. Discovering the creatures’ massive lair and fighting one at close quarters.
It was enough to drive most people out of their mind.
And that didn’t even factor in the rancid air down here. So far, she had downplayed the methane threat to the pregnant women, only acknowledging how hard it was to breath.
We’re inside the chamber of a gun, and we’re one spark from making this all for naught.
We’ve got to move . . .
“Catch up!” she yelled. “We have to keep going.”
“We’re not all as fit as you,” Ellen said.
She looked down the cavern and saw the girl Natalie stumbling along, one hand holding her large belly. “Sorry. I forgot—”
“No need to apologize.” Ellen rested a hand on her shoulder. “Without you, we’d be dead.”
If we stay here too long, we will be dead.
But she held her tongue on that point and waited for the others to catch up. Eventually she said, “How far along are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Two months,” Ellen replied.
“I hadn’t heard you were pregnant.”
“No one has.”
Bowcut frowned at the way Ellen said that. “Not even the mayor?”
“It’s . . . complicated.”
“Complicated sums up my life. No need to explain.”
For the briefest of moments, Ellen’s face softened, like she had met a kindred spirit. A moment later, it was gone, replaced by her trademark hard stare.
Three of the women caught up and crouched in a row behind Ellen. They slumped over, breathing hard. Their heads shot up when a new round of shrieks echoed in the tunnel.
“Pay attention,” Bowcut shouted to the group over the shrieks. “We need to forget caution and move faster. I’m sure you’re all feeling the effects of the methane, and it’ll get a hell of a lot worse if we don’t get to the surface. We’re moving up, which means we’re going in the right direction. But we have to dig deep and give everything we’ve got to it—and I mean everything.”
A few of the group nodded.
She turned and drove forward again, glancing back every few seconds to ensure everyone kept up with her pace. They still straggled, but she could see they were determined to at least try. And that’s really all she could ask of them. These women had gone through hell—forcibly kept alive for weeks and immobilized in mucus, while their unborn children grew in their wombs unaware of the horror they would be born into. Yet they kept pushing, and that gave her strength even as her head pounded and every time she swallowed to moisten her parched throat.
Just.
Keep.
Moving.
The passage widened ahead.
Creatures shot through an opening from the opposite side.
Bowcut slowed her pace as she neared, crept forward, and swept her light through the dusty air.
The tennis court–sized cavern had other dark entrances to the left and right, each filled with dozens of the smaller, faster creatures. As soon as she focused on an individual passage, they exploded from the other two, extending their claws and thrashing their tails, and she quickly moved her light between all three to push them back. But there was only so much light, and she was only so fast.
With every sweep of the beam, they came a little bit closer. It was only a matter of time before the creatures were within striking distance.
The group bunched up and pressed against her back.
“Talk to me,” Dumont called out.
“A big problem. Give me second.”
Bowcut attempted to figure out a strategy to guide the group forward without being susceptible to attacks from the side. It was possible with the larger creatures, but the smaller ones were a different story. She needed to clear the opposite tunnel for the group to move, but Dumont had to cover the rear, holding back the creatures who pursued them, and the lantern wasn’t powerful enough . . .
Think, Sarah, dammit!
Precious seconds passed while she racked her brain for a way out. But there was no obvious option in her mind, not without everything descending into bloody carnage. The only other direction led straight back to the main nest, and that meant certain death.
“My God,” Ellen said. “Help her!”
A quick glance over her shoulder showed Bowcut that one of the women had collapsed. Another pulled off a gas mask and placed it over her face.
Two of the other women rested their hands against the wall for support.
“There’s hundreds of creatures coming up the passage,” Dumont yelled. “They’re crushing the front ones toward my light.”
Another woman sunk to her knees and slumped against the wall. The group looked in no condition to continue forward, let alone carry out a fast maneuver to see them through the cavern. Even if they were in peak physical shape, Bowcut wasn’t sure it would matter. There were just too many of the creatures, and there was no escape.
We’re dead.
A light-headed sensation overcame her.
It can’t end like this. Not without some vengeance . . .
“Do something!” Ellen shouted.
But Bowcut just flopped against the entrance, straining to keep her light focused.
She couldn’t keep herself focused, though. Disorienting images and emotions flashed through her mind.
The chance of her future happiness with David North was ebbing to nothing. He was the only man who ever really understood her . . .
Her brokenhearted mother had already lost a husband and a son. Bowcut hated every moment of her suffering: kissing a picture of the men in uniform every morning and placing it back on her fireplace, going to church every day and praying for them, sobbing behind her bedroom door at night . . .
The creatures killing Dalton and Christensen . . .
And now this.
Extra grief piled onto the already immeasurable amount. Her left leg buckled and she dropped to one knee.
“No . . .”
“Sarah!”
“No!”
Bowcut roared with anger and drew her knife, refusing to go down without a fight. If the creatures were taking her down, some would taste cold steel.
Her vision blurre
d.
Screaming creatures flowed out of the opposite passage.
“Fuck you all!” Bowcut cried out in desperation.
She thrust her knife forward with all her remaining strength . . .
. . . and a metal sphere bounced into the cavern out of nowhere.
Brilliant flashes of strobing light erupted from it, clearing the area immediately, sending shrieking creatures hurtling away from the passage entrances.
Bowcut squinted and raised a hand to protect her eyes from the glare.
Three figures, wearing gas masks, raced toward them. One pulled a small black dome from a leather satchel and placed it on the ground, and green lights flashed around its base. Four metal tubes extended, blasting out powerful streams of some gas.
No, not some gas. Oxygen.
Bowcut drew in a deep breath.
The same man tossed another sphere beyond Dumont, flooding the passage with rapid flashing light. “Bring them around the oxygenator,” he said in a French accent. “It only works for a limited period.”
Strong hands grabbed Bowcut’s body armor and dragged her into the cavern. Whatever they had used to emit the strobing light left them confident enough to ignore the entrances. The dome was a godsend.
The other two men stepped beyond her to retrieve the rest of the group.
“Tom?” Ellen cried out. “Is it really you?”
Tears welled in Mayor Cafferty’s eyes. “You didn’t think I’d leave you down here, did you?”
The mayor and his wife tightly embraced.
The other women and Dumont crowded around the dome and breathed in refreshing air.
Bowcut blinked and focused. She recognized the mayor and . . . no. It couldn’t be.
“Hey.”
“You’re here. You’re here?”
“I’m here,” David North said.
She let out a deep sigh of relief, grabbed his arm, and hauled herself to her feet.
“Are you okay?” North asked.
“Took you long enough,” Bowcut said, planting a kiss squarely on his lips and embracing him.
“You can yell at me when we get out of here.”
“Sounds good. Who’s the other guy?” she asked, looking at the Frenchman as he riffled through his leather satchel.
“It’s a long story.” North lowered his voice to a whisper. “We need to keep a close eye on him.”
She looked once more. The man looked like a natural-born fighter, and the effective devices he had deployed seemed far from coincidental. Whoever he was, he came purposely armed for this scenario, which struck her as odd, considering the other two had come from the Pavilion.
Those questions could wait, and the man had helped in their rescue. For the moment, she continued to breathe and regain her strength, refocusing on leading the hostages to safety.
But then Ellen looked toward the stranger and said, “Lucien? What are you doing here?”
“What?” Cafferty said, confused. “You know each other?”
“Better than you realize,” Lucien said, smirking at the mayor.
“What—”
“I’ve given you a chance to survive,” Lucien interrupted. “I’ve done so against my orders, but I thought it was necessary. Now, though, I’m afraid this is where our journey together ends.”
“I didn’t believe your benevolent crap for a second,” North said.
“I never said anything about being benevolent. I just said we had a mutually beneficial situation concerning our survival, and so we helped each other. But I have a mission, and none of you are a part of it anymore.”
Bowcut had no idea what was going on, but if David didn’t trust this guy, she didn’t, either. She slipped her knife behind her back.
The Frenchman pulled out a block of C-4 with an attached detonator and timer and positioned it in the center of the cavern.
North lunged toward him.
Flament spun and aimed a chunky pistol at his chest, stopping his advance.
“If you make another move at me, I’ll rip out your stomach and replace it with this C-4.”
“You’re a piece of shit,” Cafferty said.
Lucien shrugged with a weird grin on his face, and Sarah was pretty sure there was more evil in this cave than just the creatures.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Snarls, howls, and shrieks reverberated around the Pavilion, raising the hairs on the back of Sal’s neck. He stood by his cabin, waiting for the survivors to finish the train’s modifications and to give him the go-ahead to drag everyone back to safety.
A team of six finished strapping oxygen tanks to the sides of the diesel engine, as close to the wheels as possible, and moved over to help mount the IMAX.
The time to leave couldn’t come soon enough. Scientists had calculated that a single cigarette reduced a person’s life by eleven minutes. He had no idea how they came to that conclusion, but he thought every minute spent in the Pavilion knocked at least twenty off his.
Mike connected a power cable to the train’s socket. Lights flickered on inside the rear car, highlighting thin gouges in its battered body.
At any moment, Sal expected the creatures to storm the Pavilion and rip everyone to shreds. His paranoia told him the light wouldn’t keep the creatures back forever, and he felt the presence of hundreds of eyes watching his every move, waiting for the right moment to race in and turn him into a pile of entrails.
Eight of the MTA workers mounted the IMAX projector to the front of the engine and positioned it ahead of the bank of batteries. Anna hooked it up while they angled the twin lenses toward the pitch-black tunnel.
A cop at the front of the engine raised his thumb. “That’ll do it.”
The workers lashed rope around the projector, securing it in place. Anna pressed a button on the side and a shaft of brilliant white light illuminated the tunnel.
“You guys really know your shit,” Sal said.
“I guess,” Anna said. “But any one of the creatures could pull it right off this train. It’s all we’ve got, though.”
“Then it’s what we got. Are we ready to go?”
“Ready as we’ll ever be. I’ll grab the rest of the guys from the command center.”
“LT,” Sal shouted across to the car’s open door. “Get everyone on board.”
Lieutenant Arnolds nodded and started ushering people back in the Z Train car.
Sal walked by Anna’s side, taking a final opportunity to survey the scene. Two days ago, he had wandered through the deserted Pavilion with a bottle of beer, marveling at New York’s latest big-ticket item. Today, death and violence hung in the air, and he shuddered at the sounds emanating from the other tunnel and the sight of body parts strewn in front of the command center.
“What made you decide to come?” Anna asked, quietly snapping him out of his dark thoughts.
“I just couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I saw a picture of those things. It must have been scary as hell.”
“When the creatures attacked?”
“Yeah.”
“I was behind the blast door when the first one appeared. To be honest, I thought we were safe and was worried about the people outside. Then they started smashing their way in . . .”
“Man, you guys sure have a story to tell. I’ll watch you on the ten o’clock news.”
“You’ll probably see yourself, too, Sal. If we make it out, that is.” She looked at him. “We’re gonna make it out, right?”
“You’re damn right.”
Dull metallic thuds came from inside the command center. A woman and man, dressed in the same blue MTA uniforms as Anna, burst out.
A pool of water followed, spreading across the Pavilion’s polished stone floor.
“They’re hammering through from the emergency passage,” the woman shouted.
Anna stopped midstride and peered at the shallow tide breaking around her shoes. “Holy shit. If it’s flooded and the hatch breaks, we’re all dead.”
“What?�
��
“You know the Hudson River?”
“Yeah . . .”
“We’re about to be part of it.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Sal spun to face the train. Imagination wasn’t required to know the consequences. He sprinted for the diesel engine’s cabin as the last few people boarded the car. He climbed up the ladder and flung open the cabin door.
“Go, go, go,” he yelled.
Mike released the brake and thrust the throttle backward.
The engine jerked forward a few inches and ground to a halt.
“What the hell?” Mike said.
The engine roared and fumes filled the cabin, but they remained static.
“Goddamn it,” he said. “Did you check the front car? The emergency brakes must be locked. You’ve gotta decouple us from it now!”
Sal grabbed a wrench. “Don’t go without me!”
He leaped from the cab onto the platform and raced past the first car.
An increasing flow of water gushed out of the command center and spilled across the platform. Sal reached between the cars. The pin block locking the knuckle of the coupler was still in place. He slipped through a gap in the doors—doing his best to ignore the blood-spattered walls—rushed into the conductor’s cab, and hit the foot pedal.
The coupler groaned, but the pin held.
Shit.
His only option was to do it by hand.
Sal exited the car and hopped onto the track. He banged the pin with the wrench a few times with all his might, but it didn’t budge.
“All right, c’mon.” He wrapped the wrench around the pin, tightened it, and pried with all his might.
It still didn’t budge. Water was spilling off the platform onto the track itself.
“C’mon, you son of a bitch.”
The pin loosened.
“Yes . . .”
Two more heaves popped it free from the knuckle.
“There!”
“Get your ass moving,” Mike called out. “I’ve started releasing the oxygen.”
Sal scrambled back onto the overflowing platform, trying not to get knocked over by the growing wall of water, and sprinted for the cabin.
A crash came from inside the command center, much louder than the one before.
Awakened Page 23