The entire building shook. It sounded as if something was tearing the roof off.
“Arroyo...” Tyler backed against the wall and fought to keep his balance. “Stand down, now!”
Clark smiled. “I don’t think so. You know how you guys are always going on about Judgment Day? Well, it’s upon you. Reap what you fucking sowed, you son of a bitch.”
Tyler screamed.
Clark laughed.
Then the door to the conference room burst open and the Dark Ones rushed inside.
* * *
Peachbottom Nuclear Plant
3:38 AM
Incredibly, the heavy steel door buckled under the force of the tremendous blows hammering it from the other side. The hinges groaned, and the bolts fastening them in the wall began to bend.
“Oh fuck...” Rick took a deep breath and held it. His hands trembled. “You said those locks could withstand ten tons of pressure, how the fuck can these things—”
“If there’s more than one, they can probably muster the strength,” Jennifer said, her voice grim.
“All of you form a line,” Livingston said, his voice steady and calm. “Right here, next to me, so that you don’t catch each other in the crossfire. They’re coming in through this door.”
“Ya think?” Tony shook his head in derision, but shuffled forward. “This is a hell of a way to die.”
Richard had to raise his voice to be heard over the pounding. “Would you quit saying that, please, Mr. Genova? I think we’re all frightened enough.”
“I hope you are,” Livingston said. “Because that’s what it’s going to take to get out of this. Now get ready.”
Jeremiah Brown stepped out from behind the control console. “Colonel? What can me and my men do to help?”
“Do you have any other weapons in here? Mop handles, bleach or other hazardous chemicals? Anything like that?”
“No.”
“Then all you can do is pray. That might help.”
Jeremiah glanced down at his feet. “I’m afraid that I’m an atheist.”
Livingston grinned. “So am I—except in situations like this. Then I become a believer.”
The door buckled again, and the top hinge tore free of the wall. The door fell inward a few inches, and Rick glimpsed a Dark One through the gap; the muscles beneath its green, scaled flesh rippling in the glow of the red emergency lights. Worse, he could smell the creature—a fishy, briny stench. Although he couldn’t see them, he heard the familiar sound of the Clicker’s claws.
It sounded like there was an army of them in the corridor.
He supposed that was pretty accurate.
He watched as Jennifer, tears in her eyes, stepped forward and kissed Richard tenderly on the cheek. Then she stood up on her tiptoes and did the same to Livingston. The old man’s cheeks turned red, and he looked surprised. Then it was Rick’s turn to be surprised as she slid beside him and did the same.
“Good luck,” she whispered in his ear.
“You, too,” Rick swallowed the lump in his throat and then concentrated on the door, his pistol held in both hands and at arms length from his body.
“Where’s mine?” Tony asked.
“Sorry,” Jennifer said. “I don’t know you well enough yet.”
“Maybe after this is over?”
Despite her fears, Jennifer smiled. “Sure.”
“Well then, let’s kill these mother-fuckers.”
“Colonel,” Richard said, “I can get a shot through that crack at the top of the door. I can see part of a Dark One out there.”
Livingston nodded. “Do it.”
Richard crept forward and thrust the barrel of his gun through the crack. Before he could squeeze the trigger, the weapon was seized by a clawed hand. As he grappled with the Dark One, another of the creatures thrust a spear through the opening, piercing his shoulder. Richard screamed and let go of the gun. The Dark one yanked the rifle through the crack and Richard sank to his knees. The battering started again, the noise deafening.
“Get him out of there,” Livingston shouted. “Get ready!”
Rick watched, stunned, as two of Jeremiah’s employees ran forward and dragged Richard to the back of the room. Jennifer knelt beside him. Blood spread out across his shirt. The spear was still sticking out of him, the sharpened seashell tip jutting from his back. Richard clutched the blood-slicked shaft and groaned. His eyes fluttered. His lips turned blue.
“You’re going to be okay,” Jennifer gasped. “You’re going to be fine.”
“Don’t pull that spear out,” Rick advised her. “Just try to keep him still.”
If she heard him, she gave no indication. Rick turned back to the door just as the Dark Ones succeeded in breaking it down.
“Fire!”
Livingston’s weapon sang out and the others followed his lead. Rick, Tony, and Colonel Livingston stood shoulder to shoulder, determined not to let the creatures break through their line of defense. Brass jackets bounced off their shoulders and chests and clattered onto the floor like hail, and the room filled with smoke and screams from both the humans and the invaders. Behind them, many of the technicians backed up against the far wall, pressing against it and either closing their eyes or staring as death crept closer.
Two Dark Ones fell in the doorway, bullet holes riddling their massive forms. A third swiped out with his arm as Tony shot it in the face. Even as the pulped remains of its head splattered onto the creatures behind it, the Dark One’s talons slashed across his chest, drawing blood. Grimacing, Tony took a step back.
“Hold the line,” Livingston yelled over the gunfire. “Stand your fucking ground!”
Shaking his head in frustration, Tony locked his knees and drilled another Dark One.
Suddenly, Jennifer ran to the front of the room and joined them, the last spare rifle in her hands. She closed her eyes, squeezed the trigger, and jerked backward at the report. The shots went wild, hitting the ceiling. Undaunted, she opened her eyes and fired again. This time, she had a more firm grip on the weapon and her shots hit closer to her target.
“Cover me,” Rick said, and quickly changed magazines. His trembling hands were numb from the rapid fire, and he had difficulty sliding the fresh mag into the pistol. As he worked, a small, dog-sized Clicker darted forward and lashed out at his foot with its tail. Rick sidestepped and kicked it. Pain shot up his toes. It was like kicking a fire hydrant. Hissing, the Clicker stabbed at him again. The magazine clicked into place. Rick pushed the barrel against a groove in the creature’s shell and squeezed the trigger. Yellow goo gushed out of the wound.
“Not so bullet proof after all when we’re this close, are you, you little motherfucker?”
The attacking hordes drew back around the corner and the hallway was suddenly empty, except for the corpses of the Dark Ones and Clickers they’d slain.
“Everybody okay on ammo?” Rick asked.
“I don’t know,” Jennifer admitted. “How do you tell?”
While Rick showed her, Tony parted the torn fabric of his shirt and checked his wounds. Livingston turned to Jeremiah and his men.
“See if we can get this door back up and in place.”
“Why bother, Colonel?” Jeremiah said. “We don’t have anything to brace it with. None of these office chairs are heavy enough.”
“He’s right,” Richard groaned. “What’s the point?”
Livingston stepped into the doorway and stared down the empty corridor. “The point is that we fucking survive.”
“Oh, the hell with this,” Rick snapped, striding after him. “They’re right, Colonel! What’s the point? Even if we kill these things, more will come. And even if by some miracle we managed to escape, what then? The government will still be after us. We’ll still have to watch our backs. Trust me—I’ve lived on the run, and I’m fucking tired of it. I’m sick of looking over my shoulder, sick of feeling the crosshairs every time I go outside, sick and tired of living on borrowed fucking time. And
all of it is these things’ fault!”
He shoved past the startled Colonel and into the corridor. As he stepped over the bodies of the Dark Ones, they all heard a sound from around the corner.
CLICK-CLICK…CLICK-CLICK…CLICK-CLICK…
“Rick,” Livingston whispered, “get back here.”
Ignoring him, Rick walked on. His pace did not slow.
“I mean it. Get back here right now.”
Rick raised his pistol and pointed it into the shadows at the end of the corridor. “Come on, you son of a bitch.”
The monster answered the challenge. It rounded the corner and filled the hallway with its form. The Clicker was so huge that its shell scraped against the walls and ceiling and dug furrows in the drywall. The sound of its pincers slamming together reverberated down the corridor, drowned out only when Rick opened fire. He walked towards it as he fired, aiming for its legs and eyestalks. Cursing, Livingston ran after him.
Jennifer, Tony, and Jeremiah ran to the door and watched in dismay and horror as Rick ran out of ammunition. He seemed not to notice and continued walking purposefully towards the onrushing Clicker, still squeezing the trigger, oblivious to the fact that he was empty. Enraged, the Clicker raised its claws and closed the distance between them.
“Rick,” Livingston shouted, “drop!”
If Rick heard him, he didn’t show it. Colonel Livingston tried to draw a bead on the giant crustacean, but Rick was in the way. As it loomed over Rick and prepared to seize him in its claws, there was a loud explosion from farther down the corridor. Plaster rained down on them and thick smoke filled the hallway. Hissing, the Clicker tried to turn around, but its massive bulk got stuck. Thrashing, it squealed in frustration.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Livingston raced forward and grabbed Rick by the shoulder, shaking him and spinning him around.
“What the hell is your problem?”
Livingston was so furious that his spittle landed on Rick’s cheek. The dazed man didn’t seem fazed by it. Shoving Rick behind him, the Colonel drew a bead on the beast. Before he could fire, another explosion rocked the corridor. It was followed by the sounds of automatic gunfire.
“Fire in the hole,” a voice warned.
Livingston cheered.
“Fall back,” he shouted, running into the bunker and pulling Rick with him.
“What’s happening?” Jennifer asked, confused.
“Richrath’s reinforcements have arrived,” Livingston told her. “Cheer up, Doctor Wasco. You’re rescued— again.” He motioned to Jeremiah. “Have your people get against the far wall and stay there.”
“Well how about that,” Tony said. “And here I was beginning to feel like General George Custer.”
“No,” Colonel Livingston said. “That’s for our President. Soon as our situation improves, I’m going to personally deliver his Alamo.”
“I don’t think,” Richard groaned from the corner, “that your analogy matches up, Colonel. Custer wasn’t at the Alamo.”
“Then here’s another analogy for you, Doctor. I’m going to give him his very own Hiroshima.”
* * *
The White House
3:39 AM
The Dark Ones poured into the room, leaping over Agent Walpow’s still twitching corpse and charging them. Distracted, Clark spun around and fired at the onrushing invaders. The lead creature drew back its arm and flung a trident. The missile flew through the air and struck Kathy Hayden in the stomach. She slammed into the wall and the trident held her in place, impaling her. Her screams turned to a sharp gasp. She fumbled with the shaft jutting from her abdomen.
President Tyler and Donald Miller both ducked down behind a long, rectangular conference table. Both men scrambled for the pistol that Walpow dropped when he was shot. Miller grabbed the weapon, but Tyler struck him in the temple with a right hook. Growling like a beast, the President tore the gun from Miller’s hands and then crawled away.
Ken White and Clark both stood their ground, selecting their targets as more Dark Ones swept into the room. For every one of the creatures they killed, two more took their place. The Dark Ones’ speed belied their size. Ken pulled the trigger again and was met with an empty click. He paled.
“Oh God...”
Snarling, two of the creatures crossed the room in four quick strides and towered over him. Ken fell to his knees, dropped the empty pistol, and clasped his hands together in prayer.
“Please... please... please...”
The largest of the creatures reached out and grasped Ken’s head between its scaly hands. Then the Dark One began to squeeze. Ken’s pleas turned to a low whine. His mouth formed an “o” shape and his teeth cut into his cheeks. His eyes bulged from their sockets. The creature applied more pressure and Ken’s skull cracked.
Miller shrieked as another Dark One knocked him to the floor, and then grabbed his legs. It swung him through the air, repeatedly slamming him into the bookshelves. His spine shattered. His head burst. His bowels vacated. His body went limp. The creature tossed him aside.
Taking advantage of the confusion, President Tyler crawled to the secret passage that Clark had entered the room from. He slipped through the doorway, then stood up and fled. Clark emptied his magazine into the Dark Ones as they tried to surround him, then darted through their ranks and took off in pursuit of Tyler. He slammed the door shut behind him, plunging the passageway into darkness. Clark engaged the lock and crept forward. His eyes hadn’t yet adjusted, and he had to rely on sound. He heard Tyler’s footsteps ahead of him, running away. Outside, the Dark Ones flung themselves against the door. Razor-sharp talons lashed at the wood. They’d be through it in no time at all.
Clark ejected the spent mag and slapped in a fresh one. He fired one bullet into the darkness. It whined down the passageway, and the momentary flash of light made his night vision even worse. He didn’t care. President Tyler’s frightened scream was worth it.
Somewhere outside, something shook the building. Clark was momentarily knocked against the wall from the force of the shaking structure.
Something was out there. Something worse than the Dark Ones and the Clickers.
But that wasn’t going to stop him now.
He ran after his prey, while the Dark Ones clawed at the door.
* * *
Peachbottom Nuclear Plant
3:50 AM
Colonel’s Richrath and Livingston shook hands and embraced, slapping each other on the back.
“It’s good to see you, you old war horse.”
“You, too,” Livingston replied. “Thanks for pulling our asses out of the fire.”
Richrath shrugged. “It’s what we do.”
“What’s the sit-rep?”
“Enemy has been obliterated. We control the plant. Site is secure. How about the reactors?”
“Brown?” Livingston turned to Jeremiah. “Any chance of a meltdown?”
“No, Colonel. We’re fine.”
“We’ll get medical attention for your people,” Richrath said, watching Jennifer and Rick helping Richard and Tony. “You okay, Augustus?”
“I’m fine. What’s the situation across the country?”
“Civil war. Your coup was greeted with open arms by many people across the spectrum. The Clickers and those other things have pretty much been defeated, or at least driven back into the ocean. Damage is in the billions, of course, and the loss of life is staggering.”
“Any estimate on casualties?”
“Millions.”
Livingston scowled. “All because of that sniveling Bible-thumper Tyler.”
“Washington is still overrun. The enemy seemed to concentrate their forces there, almost as if they knew it was the seat of our power.”
“They do know that,” Rick said from the corner. “They’re smarter than you think. As smart as us.”
“That’s William Mark,” Livingston explained. “He’s an expert on these things.”
Richrath stared at Ric
k. He recognized him after a second; remembered him from Phillipsport. He winked and nodded, indicating the secret was safe. Then he turned back to Colonel Livingston.
“So what now, Augustus?”
Livingston paused. “The enemy controls this nation’s Capitol. And I’m not just talking about the ones from the sea.”
“Yeah?”
“Open a comm link with that bird we have in the air. I’m going to call in an air strike.”
The color drained from Richrath’s face. “Augustus, you can’t be serious...”
“I’ve never been more serious.”
“What’s he talking about?” Rick asked.
“A nuclear option,” Livingston explained. “A surgical strike, designed to take care of all these bastards once and for all.”
The room fell silent, and then everyone began talking at once. Rising to her feet, Jennifer approached the officers and put her hand on Livingston’s shoulder.
“Colonel, I know we’ve been through a lot tonight. And not just with the Clickers. You were betrayed by your country. We all were.”
“Tyler is holding this nation hostage.” Livingston pulled away from her. “And it has always been this nation’s policy not to negotiate with terrorists.”
“But this isn’t the way. Don’t you see? There’s been enough devastation tonight. Enough death. Our country will be permanently scarred by all that’s happened tonight. Don’t make it worse just to make it better.”
“What do you suggest we do?”
“Richard said something to me earlier, when we were trapped in here. He said that sometimes you have to rely on humanity.”
“Meaning what, Doctor Wasco?”
“Meaning that we have to count on the American people to do what’s right. Let them handle Tyler. You’ve fought enough tonight.”
Livingston considered his options. Then he turned to Richrath.
“Order more ground troops into Washington immediately. Divert all personnel not involved in rescue and clean up operations.”
Clickers II: The Next Wave Page 29