by R. D. Brady
Yells sounded from down the hall and his eyes flew open. The creature was only two inches from him. Its eyes stared into him—all six of them. And Sheridan had the feeling that it wasn’t just looking into his eyes but also his mind. The sense of violation was overwhelming, but Sheridan couldn’t look away.
Then the creature turned, and faster than Sheridan thought possible, disappeared back into the glass room. It leapt onto the transport box and, using the half open crane, scurried up and into the ceiling.
Sheridan slunk down to the ground, his hands moving to his stomach. They came up wet. He glanced down in shock at the deep gash across his abdomen. He hadn’t felt it. Still didn’t.
It must have some sort of numbing agent in its tentacles, he thought, watching his blood flow out with an almost disinterest. This room is going to keep housekeeping very busy.
He heard shouts outside the door before it burst open. Soldiers poured into the room. One knelt down next to him. “Dr. Sheridan? Dr. Sheridan, what happened?”
Sheridan rolled his head toward him, the effort seeming inhumanly difficult. He almost giggled at the thought. Inhuman.
The soldier shook him. “Dr. Sheridan?”
Sheridan focused on the man with his serious gray eyes and serious weapon. He looked between the two. But not serious enough. Sheridan leaned into him. “It’s out.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Martin walked down the hallway to the bunker underneath Edwards Air Force Base, just a short helicopter ride from Vegas. He glanced at his phone as a text scrolled across it.
The doors are open.
He smiled, but imagining the group inside the conference room, his temper rose. They had forced him into this corner by dragging their feet. Enough was enough.
Taking a breath to tamp down his anger, he opened the door. Twenty-two sets of eyes turned to look at him. All members of the twelve were here along with their continuity of function members. Only Martin arrived without his because he had not chosen one, and he had no intention of doing so.
Martin walked in slowly, a smile on his face. “Ladies. Gentlemen. Thank you for meeting me again on such short notice.”
Albert Brenner of the FBI sprang to his feet, his Irish complexion taking on a bright red hue with his anger. “What the hell is going on? You can’t just snap your fingers and expect us to come running.”
Martin didn’t bother sitting. He closed the door behind him and stood in front of it. “Apparently I can. The generation that sat at this table before you created the A.L.I.V.E. Project, they understood what was at risk. And it was run all over the country. I brought it under one roof. And just in time. Apparently one of the creatures has broken free of his containment. Deaths have been reported. If I hadn’t moved the projects, what is playing out in Nevada would be playing out at military bases across the nation.”
"It's just one incident," General Juarez, U.S. Army said. “And you ordered the removal of the subjects to Nevada. Without that move, that upset to protocols and routine, none of this would have happened. You have placed countless lives at risk,” Juarez said.
Martin’s words whipped out. “Countless lives have always been at risk and will be until we have a method to fight the aliens on their own terms. We can barely recreate their technology and we have no inkling of their physical capabilities. But now we are beginning to understand. And we need this information for when one of these species finally decides they are sick and tired of merely watching us and are ready to take us over.”
Barbara Freely of the NSA shook her head. “The chances you have taken are too great. You have overstepped your place—gravely.”
Michelle Danner from the State Department stood. “Which is why you have been officially reprimanded and will now be removed from the committee.”
“Is that right?” Martin asked softly. “You eleven are a shadow of your predecessors. They knew what the risk was and they took whatever steps were necessary to secure our future. You are only concerned with covering your own asses. You have no courage, no conviction.”
Albert snorted. “Say whatever you wish, Martin. But your time here is done. Your words are no more important than the buzzing of a pesky mosquito.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Albert. Because you see, in this scenario, I’m not the mosquito. You are.” He nodded.
Each of the individuals standing behind the eleven members of the Majestic 12 stepped forward, pulling the garrote they’d been provided from their pockets and wrapping it around a member’s neck. Albert’s eyes bulged, as did everyone else’s around the table.
Martin watched impassively as the members of the Majestic 12 flailed and struggled. But soon, none of the original eleven made a sound or a move. Martin nodded, meeting the eyes of the members of the new Majestic 12, one that Martin controlled. A move he’d known he had to make after the last meeting. He was done with oversight.
“Well done. Make sure the bodies are handled and the cover stories are in place. And no one contacts me. I will let you know when we will next meet.”
He strode from the room, his footsteps echoing off the cement floor.
But don’t hold your breath.
Chapter Forty-Four
Chris’s beeper went off. He reached over in the dark to grab it and nearly hit his head on the bunk above him. Other beepers sounded throughout the room. The sound of those other beepers in the dark, even though their sound was smaller and less obnoxious than his, brought him to full wakefulness.
Something’s happened.
He rolled out of bed, pulling on his boots. He hustled for the door, followed by another half dozen soldiers. They thundered down the stairs to the first floor.
He could hear the other rooms in the barracks coming to life as well, and from a window in the stairwell he saw lights blare on in the dorm next door. As he reached the first floor, more soldiers emptied out of rooms. And while no one spoke, Chris had no doubt that everyone’s thoughts were running along the same lines: what type of emergency could possibly require pulling in all the off-duty security?
A dark pit opened in the base of his stomach as he pictured all those crates that had been loaded into the plane at Wright-Patt. And he knew that Wright-Patt wasn’t the only base they had gotten deliveries from. It was too much too quickly—ripe for a mistake. And as he glanced around at the men and women heading for the front of the barracks, he knew something had gone horribly wrong.
A vision of Maeve slipped into his mind and his gut clenched at the thought of her being hurt. But he shoved it aside. No use worrying before he had to. And the base was huge—it could be any of the projects or none of them that had initiated the alarm. It could even be a drill just to see how fast they responded.
Chris rounded the corner that led to the front foyer. A woman stood at attention, calmly waiting—Regina West. The commander in charge of the security for Building 34—the building Maeve was in.
Chris’s heart began to pound as he came to a halt in front of the commander with a crisp salute. Another ten soldiers fell in behind him. Leslie was one of them, along with a few of the soldiers he knew from Wright-Patt
The commander looked over the group. “There’s been a security breach in Building 34. You are going to back up alpha team. Gear up.”
Next to the major stood a master sergeant with a rolling cart filled with high-caliber weapons. A breach. With this kind of weaponry that could only mean one thing—something dangerous had escaped or gotten in.
The master sergeant pointed toward the cart. “Grab what you need.”
Chris grabbed, and then after a moment’s hesitation grabbed a belt of grenades. West caught his eye and nodded.
Oh damn, this is bad.
“With me,” the commander said as soon as the soldiers were armed. She led them outside where they piled into a waiting van. The van took off the moment they were all in.
The commander turned from her seat in the front.
“We have a containment break. Yo
u have each been assigned to retrieve the—” the commander paused “—subject. This is a picture of our quarry.” She handed back her cellphone.
Chris’s eyes widened at the picture before passing it on.
“Are those tentacles?” a female soldier asked.
Commander West nodded, her face grim. “The tentacles have razors on them. Do not let them near you.”
“Is this a capture or kill?” someone asked.
“The higher-ups would prefer it was a capture. I prefer you all come home, so do what you need to do. The creature is currently contained in level nine.”
“How did it escape?”
“Through the ceiling.”
Chris pictured Maeve, sleeping only a few levels away. “Are we sure it’s contained to level nine?”
“To the best of our knowledge, yes. The building is in lockdown, no one in or out as a precaution.”
“What does it want?” someone asked.
“We assume to get out.” The commander’s gaze did not waver. “You will not let that happen.”
“Yes, sir,” they responded in unison.
“Has anyone been hurt?” Chris asked.
The commander paused for only a second before nodding. “Five have been killed. One injured. Do not underestimate this thing.”
The entrance to the building was a half mile away. Chris wished the driver would go faster, even though they were all being thrown about by his high rate of speed.
“Sir, how come we don’t know if it’s contained?” Leslie asked. “This is the most secure base in the world. Don’t they have cameras?”
“The cameras from level eight down have been deactivated.”
“Did this thing do it?” someone asked.
“We don’t know,” West said.
“But it’s intelligent, right? It might look like a weird octopus, but it is sentient, right?” Chris asked.
“That’s affirmative.”
No one said anything else. Questions swirled through Chris’s mind. What if they were wrong, and it made it to another level? And what if they were wrong about what it wanted? What if it didn’t want out? What if it wanted something else?
Chapter Forty-Five
The elevator lowered the security group down to level eight. The alpha team was already on level nine doing a sweep, though there had been no sign of the creature. And they couldn’t use thermal imagining because apparently the thing was cold blooded. In response, they’d ratcheted up the air conditioning to hopefully slow the thing down. But level nine was a labyrinth of labs and rooms. It covered over five thousand square feet. Searching the entire place for one dark, gelatinous creature was not going to be easy.
Chris glanced up as the elevator chimed. “Okay guys, here we go.” The doors slid open.
Chris stepped out, his crew of five behind him, everyone’s weapons tucked securely into their shoulders as they scanned the area.
No one was in the hallways, but they had expected that. In a lockdown everyone was required to stay in whatever room they were in or get into the nearest room and remain there. He nodded to three of his group. “You three, head right. We’ve got left. Stay in radio contact.”
Hutch, who Chris knew from Wright-Patt, grinned. “No worries, Chris. All the good stuff is happening one floor away.”
“Yeah, well, let’s pretend it’s happening here. Keep your eyes peeled.”
“Yes, sir.” Hutch grinned again.
Chris shook his head but turned his mind back to the task at hand. “Let’s go.”
Two of his soldiers, Franks and Schwartz, fell in line behind him. They moved forward. At the corner, he held up his hand. He didn’t like this. It was too quiet. He peered around the corner. He could just make out a hand lying on the hallway floor.
Shit. Quietly he keyed his mic. “This is Bravo Unit One. We have a body in Hallway A of level eight. We’re going to investigate.”
The response came quickly over his earpiece. “Roger, Bravo. Use extreme caution.”
Chris glanced back at his two comrades. He’d known them for only the two years he’d been at Wright-Patt. Franks was a gym rat from New Mexico who had an almost red cast to his bronze skin, a gift from his Native American relatives. Schwartz was almost the complete opposite—from New Hampshire, she was small framed, with glasses and a paleness to her skin that suggested the sun was not her friend. But regardless of how physically different they appeared, both were top-notch soldiers. He’d never gone into a firefight with them but from their files, he knew they could handle themselves. He nodded at them before turning the corner, his MP5 submachine gun tucked into his shoulder.
Chris nudged his chin to the door on the right. Franks tried it and shook his head. They moved forward. He nodded to the door on the left. Schwartz tried it and shook her head.
Together the three advanced on the body. It was a woman, lying on her stomach. She had a large circular red mark on the back of her neck. It almost looked like a large Lyme disease mark, except the red was raised much higher on the skin, looking swollen. Schwartz reached down and checked for a pulse. She looked up and shook her head.
Chris nudged the door open, stepping over the woman. The room was empty and undisturbed. It looked like the woman had been attacked leaving the office.
Why would you leave during a lockdown?
“What the hell made that?” Franks whispered.
“It looks almost like a sucker mark,” replied Schwartz.
Chris nodded. He’d been thinking the same thing.
Franks frowned. “Did that thing have suckers? I don’t remember that in the picture.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see any, but maybe they retract or something.” Chris keyed his mic. “We have a body down with what appears to be a large sucker mark. Does the subject have suckers?”
“Hold on.” The commander was back in just a few seconds. “That’s a negative. There are no known suckers on the escapee. Keep your eyes peeled. Do you need medics?”
“No, sir. It’s too late for that.”
“Roger. Continue the search. We’ll send someone for retrieval.”
“Roger.”
Chris moved past the woman, not letting himself think about who she was. Together, the three of them moved slowly, listening for sounds, trying doors as they passed. Ahead, a door was ajar.
Chris moved toward it, keeping an eye on the hallway ahead. Schwartz continually scanned behind them. Chris stopped just before the door, sniffing. What was that? It smelled like formaldehyde but different.
“Shit!” Franks yelled behind him.
Chris whirled. A pale yellow gelatinous glob five feet wide dropped from the ceiling, landing right behind Franks. It reached out for him, a large sucker on the end of its arm.
“What the hell is that?” Schwartz yelled as she yanked on the back of Frank’s shirt, pulling him out of the creature’s reach.
“Don’t care,” said Chris, opening fire. But his bullets passed right through the creature.
“Uh, I think we need another plan,” Franks said, scrambling back, his bullets equally useless on the thing. The creature oozed toward them.
“This way,” Chris yelled, leading them down the hall.
He scanned the signs. Come on. Come on. There had to be something.
“Yes,” he said, pulling his card and swiping entrance to the third room. “Keep it busy,” he yelled.
“Keep it busy? How the hell are we supposed to do that?” Franks yelled. Schwartz just followed Chris into the room and grabbed the first thing she could find to throw at it. It was a beaker. The glass shattered but some stuck in the thing. It paused.
“Okay,” Franks said, grabbing a test tube and chucking it at the thing. It slid out of the way. “Oh, come on,” he groaned.
“You need me to show you how to throw?” Schwartz asked.
“No. I got it,” Franks grumbled, throwing a beaker, which landed and stuck. “Ha!”
Chris made his way to the back of th
e room, ignoring them. He grabbed the tank he’d been looking for. Liquid nitrogen. He wheeled it to the front, grabbing the hose and turning the nozzle. “Out of the way!”
A stream of liquid nitrogen flew toward the creature. It slid to the side, but Chris nabbed its tail end. It froze sold, and the creature let out a screech. Chris adjusted his aim. The frozen part was holding the thing back. He aimed for center mass. With a wailing cry, it shuddered and slowly hardened, all movement stopping.
Chris turned off the nitrogen.
Franks moved towards it. “Excellent—”
“Back away,” Chris warned.
“What? It’s frozen,” Franks said.
“Yeah, but it’s also not from around here. We don’t know if frozen means dead. So let’s contain it.”
“Status, Bravo Team,” came the call in Chris’s ear.
Chris keyed his mic. “We have a subject immobilized. It is not, I repeat, not the subject that was released from level nine.”
“Describe it.”
Chris quickly rattled off a description. “Did you know this thing was out?”
“Negative.”
Chris shook his head. How the hell was that possible? “Sir, we’re going to need a containment unit to make sure it does not cause any more trouble.”
“Roger, we’ll send a team to you. Any idea where it escaped from?”
“No, sir. Not yet.”
“Keep me informed.”
“Will do.”
“Um, Chris, I think we may have another issue,” Schwartz said from behind him.
“Hold, Command.” He glanced over at Schwartz. “What?”
She nudged her chin toward the large cylinders in the back of the room, her weapon at her shoulder. Chris had been so focused on the immediate danger he hadn’t really taken time to consider what the cylinders meant. There were over a dozen of the things at the back of the room.
And they were all empty.
They stood five feet tall and had a pale yellow water in them. Electrodes floated in the liquid within them.