by C W Hawes
“You do that, Mostyn. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Elswick strode off in the direction of the house, and waved for his men to join him.
Mostyn followed, and matched Elswick’s stride. “Look, Sheriff, we should work together on this.”
“Fine. I agree. Put your men under my command.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Elswick stopped. His men continued on towards the mansion. “Of course it isn’t. Look, Mostyn, I know how you goddamn Feds operate. Joint operation. Shit. You fucking takeover and leave us hayseeds and country yokels twiddling our thumbs. Well, not in my county. You hear me?”
“I hear you, Elswick. And I’m here to tell you I’m not like that.”
“Says you. Tell your men to back off.”
Up ahead Captain Pittman and his man were in a standoff with Sheriff Elswick’s. Both sides had firearms aimed at the other.
Elswick ran over to join his men.
Mostyn shook his head. “This is crazy,” he muttered. To Captain Pittman, he yelled, “Pittman, tell your man to stand down. We’re calling in for instructions.”
In a moment, the OUP Special Forces squad stood down and Sheriff Elswick and his men disappeared into the cellar.
Mostyn trotted over to where Jones had set up the LORSCOM just outside the front door to the ruined mansion.
“How’re you coming?”
Jones looked up. “They’re tracking down Bardon.”
“Okay, let me know when you get him. I’m going to be in the cellar. I suppose that’s where Kemper and Baker are, with Mansfield.
“Yep.”
“Two deputies inside with Ohse?”
“Yep. ME is on his way, apparently.”
“Thanks. I’ll be in the cellar.”
“Gotcha, Boss.”
Mostyn made his way to the cellar entrance. Pittman, his men, their equipment, and the small surveillance robots were waiting.
Before Mostyn could say a word, the captain said, “Well?”
“Waiting for word from a higher authority,” Mostyn replied.
“Kemper, Mansfield and Baker down there?”
“They followed the sheriff and his men.”
“Let’s go and see what’s what. Special Agent Jones will let me know when we get in contact with Bardon.”
Mostyn descended into the cellar. Pittman and his men followed. At the bottom of the steps, Mostyn told Pittman to follow him and he led the special forces team to the tunnel entrance. There he found Kemper, Mansfield, and Baker waiting.
“The sheriff and his men went on down,” Kemper said.
Mostyn shook his head. “Crazy bastard. And I see he’s swept the broken glass out of the way.” He turned to Pittman. “Can your robots negotiate these steps?”
Pittman called out, “Neumeyer! Can the bots negotiate these steps?”
A Special Forces agent separated himself from the others and took a close look at the stairway. “Yes, sir, they should negotiate them just fine. We could carry the bots down. Save on the battery.”
“What do you think, Mostyn?” Pittman asked.
“I think we should send one down to keep track of the sheriff and his men.”
“Neumeyer, you and Thomas take one of the bots down. Set up a relay feed so we can watch from up here.”
“Yes, sir,” Neumeyer said.
In a few minutes the relay and screen were set up for Pittman and the others to observe. Neumeyer and Thomas then carried one of the bots down the long staircase and setup the control station for the bot. While they were doing that, the other two bots were brought into the room.
Over a walkie-talkie, Pittman gave the command and Neumeyer put the flat, caterpillar tracked machine in motion. The robot’s floodlight illuminated the tunnel. The camera and microphone relayed the video and audio feed back to Neumeyer and on to Pittman. Mostyn watched, looking over the captain’s shoulder. The tunnel was empty. However, the audio feed picked up the sound of distant voices.
“The locals must be quite a ways up the tunnel,” Pittman commented.
“Good to know they’re still alive,” Mostyn said.
“You think these things are going to attack a dozen armed men?”
“Does a bear know if you have a rifle?”
“I see your point,” the captain said.
“I hope they don’t hurt them,” Mansfield said.
“Who doesn’t hurt whom?” Mostyn asked.
“I hope that crazy sheriff doesn’t hurt the creatures.”
“Doc, I have a feeling it’s the sheriff and his men we need to worry about.” Mostyn turned back to the screen. “Can’t that thing go any faster?”
“Full speed drains the battery faster,” Pittman said.
“Of course.”
Mostyn, Pittman, Mansfield, Baker, and Kemper crowded around the computer screen and watched the video as the robot rolled on down the tunnel. The pictures coming across the screen showed nothing but an empty tunnel. The audio, however, picked up the sound of voices. Indistinct, but definitely fragments of conversation.
“Have you been counting the side tunnels?” Mostyn asked Pittman.
“Yes. Five so far.”
“Five? How far has that thing gone?”
“About a half-mile.”
“Elswick and his men must be really hoofing it down there,” Baker said.
“Without backup they’re going to get themselves into trouble,” Kemper said.
Mostyn nodded. “Agreed. The entire mountain might be honeycombed with tunnels. And it looks like the main tunnel has gotten wider. That will make it easier for the creatures to attack.”
“Attack of the Mole People,” Pittman said.
“If only this were a B grade sci-fi movie,” Mostyn added.
Mansfield huffed. “They aren’t ‘mole people’. They’re abhumans.”
Pittman looked at him. “So what the hell is an abhuman and how did they get that way?”
“In the case of these people that is difficult to say, until we examine them,” Mansfield replied. He went on, “Offhand, my guess is extreme isolation and perhaps even loneliness caused a deterioration of mental capacity and moral fiber. Inbreeding sped the physical and mental regression to the bestial. You see, Captain, at base we are all animals. It isn’t uncommon for extreme cases of mental illness to strip away the civilized and leave only the base mammal that is what all of us truly are.”
“So are you saying being alone caused this?” Baker asked.
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Mansfield replied. “We have a family. A family is a micro-community. All communities wish to survive. Loneliness and isolation, especially if accompanied by persecution or paranoia, can cause the community to turn in upon itself. So this family, it would seem, did exactly that. Social mores broke down in the face of the instinct to survive. Incest became common practice. At least that is my guess. Which led to further degeneration.” Mansfield shrugged. “But we won’t know for sure until we examine them.”
Gunshots sounded through the audio feed and strident, panic-filled voices.
Pittman stood. “Alright, men, let’s go. We got a fight on our hands. Time to save the locals.”
Mostyn nodded his agreement and the OUP Special Forces unit raced down the steps and into the tunnel system. Neumeyer remained at the controls of the surveillance bot. Mostyn and the others watched as the bot picked up speed. The tunnel walls and floor zipped by.
Jones appeared in the room. “Boss, finally got hold of Bardon. Explained the situation and he’s pulling strings. I moved the LORSCOM. It’s just outside the cellar entrance.”
“Alright, Jones. We have a situation down there.”
Yelling and gunfire were coming through the audio feed. The bot sped around a curve in the tunnel and ran into a big furry body. There was a howl and from the video feed it was obvious the bot was in the air. There was a sound of metal against stone and then the video went blank.
From the walkie-talkie, Neum
eyer’s voice informed them the forward video camera was out and he was switching to the rear video camera. A picture appeared, revealing more furry shapes coming down the tunnel.
The audio was filled with human voices and animal sounds and gunfire. The bot was apparently being lifted into the air again and then the video showed a rapid descent and both video and audio went dead.
A frown appeared on Jones’s face. “That can’t be good.”
Kemper rolled her eyes. “Duh.”
Jones left and Neumeyer appeared in the doorway to the tunnel, slightly out of breath from the long climb. Faint sounds of gunfire could be heard in the quiet of the room.
“Should we send another bot down, sir?” Neumeyer asked.
“Yes,” Mostyn replied.
Baker volunteered to help the Special Forces agent carry the robot down the stairs and Neumeyer sent the thing off at full tilt down the tunnel.
Mostyn, Kemper, and Mansfield watched the bot speed away from them towards the sound of the fighting, walls and floor zipping by. But what they weren’t prepared for was the first indications things weren’t going well for the men in the tunnel system. The bot’s video feed picked up two Special Forces agents running hell for leather towards the stairs. The audio feed picking up the words “slaughter”, “ambush”, and “all dead”.
In a few moments the bot came upon a scene of carnage. Scores of dead creatures, OUP agents, and deputies.
“Dotty,” Mostyn’s voice was filled with tension. “Tell Jones to put out an automated mayday. Then the two of you get into the front room of the house. Barricade the hallway entrance. We’ll join you shortly.”
She hesitated for a moment, then kissed Mostyn’s cheek, and ran out of the room.
“Well, Doc, looks like ‘first do no harm’ ain’t happening today.”
“This is a disaster,” Mansfield said, his face and tone of voice were glum.
“Especially for the homo sapiens amongst us. You join Kemper and Jones.”
Mansfield hesitated.
“Now, Doctor.”
He nodded and left.
Mostyn turned back to the console. The bot wasn’t moving. In the video feed he saw furry shapes trotting in the direction of the stairway and the audio was sending back sounds more simian than human, and yet Mostyn sensed there were patterns to the simian sounds. Like those of speech.
Baker and Neumeyer burst into the room. “It’s a rout,” Neumeyer yelled.
On their heels were two Special Forces agents, their faces white with fear. One of them, voice trembling, said, “They’re all dead.”
“Baker, take them to the front room.”
“Right,” he replied, and led the men out of the cellar.
Mostyn looked around in the light provided by the lamps Pittman’s men had set up. There wasn’t much to block off the entrance. But there was the discarded junk and Mostyn decided that was better than nothing. First, though, he pushed the third bot down the stairway, and followed it up with the console and screen. Then he tossed down broken chairs, a small end table, a box of odds and ends. Whatever he could lift, he tossed into the opening to slow the advance of the creatures. He doubted anymore of Pittman’s men or any of Elswick’s party were coming out alive.
He looked over the pile of junk. There wasn’t anything left he could handle on his own. So he swept as much of the glass as he could back into the doorway, and then tossed the big battery powered lamps down the steps. When that was done, it was time to leave. He took his pistol out of his holster, flipped on his flashlight, and made his way out of the cellar.
The night was dark. A crescent moon shown just above the treetops. The LORSCOM was beeping out the mayday signal.
A snap sounded in the night. Mostyn spun to his right. The flashlight picked up eyes, human and at the same time feral. The creature flinched in the light. Mostyn fired his pistol one-handed at the thing and took off running. Something was closing in on his right. He fired blindly and kept on running. He rounded the corner of the house. Jones was there with a shotgun and a brilliant lamp.
“Down!” Jones yelled.
Mostyn hit the ground and Jones fired. Pumped the shotgun and fired a second time.
“Okay, Boss, get in.” Jones had his back to the wall, eyes and shotgun sweeping the area.
Mostyn ran into the house and Jones followed.
“Barricade the door!” Mostyn ordered.
The Special Forces agents were only too happy to comply.
“There was some neat equipment, the Special Forces guys didn’t take with them,” Jones said. “Kemper and I brought some of it in.”
“What do we have?” Mostyn asked.
“Couple more shotguns, two MP-40s, three rifles with bayonets, stun grenades, tear gas grenades, glow sticks, and a half-dozen stun batons. Look like cattle prods, if you ask me.”
“What would you know about a cattle prod, Jones?” Kemper said, her voice mocking in tone.
“Well, Miss Know-It-All, I happen to have worked on a cattle ranch for two summers,” Jones shot back. “Here, let me use one on you to prove I’m not lying.”
Jones picked one up and Dotty pointed her pistol at him.
“Enough!” Mostyn yelled. “Jesus, you two are worse than spoiled children.”
Jones chuckled and put the stun baton down.
To the deputies, Mostyn asked, “You two are Tyler and Dempsey?”
Tyler nodded and Dempsey raised his hand.
Mostyn turned to the two Special Forces men he didn’t know. “Your names?”
“Jack Zabaglioni,” the medium height, slightly pudgy agent said.
“Phil Rankin,” the other man said. He was tall and lanky in build.
Mostyn nodded to each. “Everyone arm up with the extra equipment. There are ten of us and God knows how many of them. Hopefully our mayday has been heard and the cavalry is on its way. We may have to hold out until sunrise, which is when these creatures will probably retreat underground.”
Mostyn turned to Mansfield, “Am I right, Doc?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
Mostyn continued. “So stay alert. Remember there are only the quick and the dead.”
The lanterns were bright and caused sharp shadows to be cast against the wall. Mostyn thought they had a certain eeriness about them. Everyone took up defensive positions by the six windows. The silence was oppressive.
A loud thump sounded against the main door, but the barricade held. There was snarling and baying and then glass and wood flew into the room, along with a hairy and wild-eyed manlike beast.
13
Tyler fired his .357 magnum revolver at the creature as it was getting up off the floor. It collapsed in a heap. Dempsey emptied his revolver at the shapes trying to clamber in through the open window and Tyler emptied his, as well. The bodies piled up and on they came.
On the other side of the room, another creature cannonballed through the glass and shutters. The small humanoid rolled and jumped up. Kemper put a bullet through its head. Another was coming through the window. Kemper fired a double-tap and the thing collapsed on the sill. She pushed it back the way it had come.
An abhuman took a swipe at her. She dodged and fired her pistol. The creature grunted and staggered back from the opening. A second bullet put it down. Right behind it was another and a double-tap from Kemper’s pistol stopped it from entering.
With Tyler and Dempsey reloading, Jones fired two blasts with his shotgun and followed up with a stun grenade. After that, all was quiet.
“I suppose it’s wishful thinking to think we’ve scared them off,” Baker said.
Mansfield looked deep in thought.
“What is it, Doc?” Mostyn asked.
“These beings.” He’d stooped next to one of the bodies. “They seem to combine human rationality with the fearsomeness of a bestial predator. I would love to capture one.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Deputy Tyler said.
“I supp
ose not,” Mansfield replied. “To study one, though, would be the chance of a lifetime.”
“Alright, people,” Mostyn began, “no more surprises. Open the shutters. We’re going to stop them before they reach us.”
Shutters and windows were opened. At each of the front windows, two men were positioned. One on each side of the opening. The big electric lamp Jones had set outside the front door was still illuminating the overgrown yard and drive. At one of the side windows, was Kemper. At the other, was Jones. These were narrower windows, and only one of the abhumans could enter at a time. And with some difficulty at that. Jones stood to one side of his window. Kemper kneeled down behind the wall and peered over the sill.
A chorus of bloodcurdling screams rent the air and the creatures stormed the house. While some tried to force their way through the windows, others were trying to force the main door and the hall door.
Baker emptied his pistol and momentarily cleared the window for Mostyn to take a position right in front of the opening, where he emptied the magazine on the MP-40 submachine gun into the oncoming horde.
Neumeyer leaned out his window and used his MP-40 to thin out the creatures trying to force the front door, while Zabaglioni used three-round bursts from his M16 to keep the creatures away from the window. When the magazine was empty, Neumeyer tossed a tear gas grenade out the window to force the creatures back.
Again all was quiet, but not for long. Rocks started pelting the side of the house. One went through the window and hit Mansfield on the shoulder. Another caught Zabaglioni on the head and he collapsed onto the floor. There was a crash, the sound of breaking glass, and the flood light went out.
Rankin yelled, “Z’s down. Breathing, but out. Took a rock to the head.”
The rock barrage continued for a few more moments and then stopped. Mostyn ordered the lamps to be set outside the windows to better see the enemy approaching. That started another rock barrage and Dempsey replied with two shotgun blasts. However, the creatures succeeded in knocking out the lanterns.
Jones called out, “Boss, want to use the light sticks?”
Mostyn thought a moment and said to go ahead.