The Complete Colony Saga [Books 1-7]

by Collings, Michaelbrent

  Everyone looked.

  Maggie put a hand to her mouth. Tried to cover the gasp that wanted to come, and failed.

  Christopher remembered being under the streets of Boise. Thinking they were safe, waiting for Ken to heal – one of the many times he had pulled through when he shouldn't have, which Christopher now understood was a product of the half-bite he had endured.

  In that darkness, they had waited. And the creatures had found them. Children, babies, Changed and coming through cracks too small to admit a kitten. Pressing themselves through until their skin flayed away, until there was nothing but shining muscle and mucus and bone.

  They hadn't made their own tunnels. They had used what there was. Christopher had thought that was all they could do.

  But he had seen the diggers come. Had seen them burrow through lead and concrete. Had suspected.

  Now he knew.

  The side of the crevasse was pocked. Dotted with irregular holes that could have been natural if there had been only one. But there wasn't just one.

  There were dozens.

  They were tunnels.

  "They made this place," said Maggie in a whisper. "This is a trap."

  "Yeah," said Aaron.

  There was movement at the periphery of the light. Theresa yelped, and Aaron swung his beam at it.

  Ken. He was crouched at the wall of the void. Fingers and arms still shifted to sharp bone, eyes glittering.

  "Ken!" Maggie shouted. "Ken, are you all right?"

  He looked at her. Hesitant – the thing within fighting the man he had been – and finally nodded.

  "Come on over here," said Aaron. "Help us figure out a way to get out."

  Ken shook his head. He pointed at Lizzy and Hope. "I can't get closer. Too much. Too hard."

  Maggie looked crestfallen. Covered burgeoning tears by looking around. "How do we get out?"

  "I can climb out," said Christopher. One thing he'd always been good at: climbing. Escaping places where he was supposed to stay.

  Aaron shook his head. "No." He shined the light straight up. "It's collapsed straight across. We're sealed in tight."

  Christopher looked up. Squinted. Saw that Aaron was right: the collapse had allowed the truck to fall, then sealed behind it. The area above was a solid plane of darkness. "How is that even possible?"

  Aaron shrugged. "How is any of this possible?" He looked at Ken. "Can you get us out?"

  Ken exploded upward. Flitting so fast that Aaron couldn't even follow him with the light, the world's biggest dragonfly in the world's darkest night.

  In no time at all he landed in the exact spot he had left, dust puffing up at his feet as his wings folded into the back that had turned broad and angular. "It's solid," he said. "Too thick for me to move."

  "We have to get out," said Maggie. She looked at Liz. "We have to get them to Micron."

  "Let's focus on getting out first," said Theresa. She looked at Christopher. "Your dad should do something about street repair."

  "I'll let him know when I see him again. If he doesn't eat me first."

  "Very funny," said Aaron. "But it don't exactly get us out of here." He turned the light downward, so that it pointed at the truck bed and illuminated them all equally. "Any bright ideas?"

  No one said anything. Amulek pointed, and Christopher didn't look. Not because he didn't want to see what the teen was gesturing at, but because he already knew what was there. And didn't want to admit what it meant.

  Aaron turned the light in that direction. "Yeah," he said. He sounded resigned. "I think that's it, too."

  Christopher finally looked. Saw the darkness in the darkness.

  A tunnel.

  They would have to follow it.

  Hope it led out.

  And pray it didn't lead to its makers.

  112

  KEN TOOK THE LEAD. Amulek followed, holding his knife and walking in a low stance that made him seem like a huge cat.

  Christopher wondered where Sally was. The leopard had freed itself from the bonds that had tied it to the children. But where was the leopard now?

  He hoped the cat was all right. A ridiculous thought at the moment, but he kept circling back to it. To the hope that a wild creature was surviving in a wilder world.

  Aaron followed Amulek, a few steps behind. Moving in a similar crouch but seeming less cat, more machine. Something crafted to attack, to kill.

  Behind Aaron: Maggie. Holding Hope now. Christopher had taken Lizzy, and walked as close to her as he could – he didn't know for sure if the signal jammer he had made would work down here, or even if it had survived the crash. But better not to take chances.

  Theresa walked behind Christopher. Taking the rear and looking behind, staring into the darkness that closed in as they proceeded.

  The darkness was a living thing. It stretched and shrank, waxed and waned as the flashlight Aaron held danced with his stride.

  Dirt crunched below their feet, and from time to time silt would rain down on them. Christopher wondered how the tunnels could hold their shapes. He looked up, and something glimmered in the light. Not quite a shine, but well brighter than the light-dampening dirt.

  He touched it. Fingers came away sticky. It was the mucus, that yellow ooze. The zombies used it to build walls, and they had used it here to strengthen the tunnels they dug.

  The mucus was a reminder of how the tunnels had come to be. Of what the survivors had to find eventually.

  The only question was when.

  113

  THEY CAME TO A TUNNEL that crossed through the one they were traveling, making a four-way intersection. Aaron halted.

  "Ken!" he called.

  Christopher sensed a shift in motion above as Ken – always traveling at the periphery of the light – stopped walking. Christopher wondered if his friend could see in the dark. If he would do just as well without the flashlight.

  He thought it probable.

  Aaron flashed the light into both sides of the new tunnel. The side on Christopher's right looked like it went straight about thirty feet, then turned left and continued in roughly the same direction they'd been walking.

  The side on the left went on and on until the light drifted to nothing and all was dark again.

  "Which way we go?" asked Aaron. "Keep on keepin' on, or take one of these?"

  "I vote straight," said Maggie. Amulek nodded.

  "Straight's good for me," said Christopher. "At least we're still walking in the right direction that way."

  "Do any of them lead up?" asked Theresa.

  Aaron shined his light down each side tunnel. "No. Looks like they're level."

  "What if they never do go up?" Maggie whispered the words, and held tighter to Hope. Almost clinging to the silent girl.

  Christopher felt the despair in the words. Felt it, and didn't want it to spread. "There's a way out," he said.

  "How do you know? Maybe these things sealed it behind them."

  Christopher shook his head. "No," he said. "The air's too fresh. If we were sealed in completely, it would be stale, like the inside of a box. There's some current coming from somewhere."

  He caught sight of Aaron's face and could tell the cowboy wasn't sure about any of that. And truth to tell, neither was Christopher. But Maggie was suffering enough, and he wanted her to have faith they would get out of here.

  Theresa seemed to notice the other woman's burgeoning fear as well. She touched Maggie's upper arm and said to Aaron, "If they don't go up, we might as well stick to this tunnel. It's got to lead us out eventually."

  Aaron nodded. "Ken?" he asked.

  Ken was a dark shadow ahead. But the glint of his eyes could be seen as bright stars in the night. They moved slightly as he tilted his head to one side: a shrug.

  "Okay, so pretty much everyone thinks straight." Aaron pursed his lips. "It seems like this is probably the best way forward."

  "Then what's the problem?" asked Theresa. "Why do you look nervous?"

 
Maggie knew. She was fighting fear, and fear always provides the worst case scenarios. "This tunnel has gone straight for a long time. That one curves."

  "So?" said Theresa.

  "So if this is the straightest one, it seems probable that anything down here would be more likely to use it. Like a highway with backroad offshoots." Maggie looked around. "This is the fastest way forward, maybe even the best way out. But it's also the likeliest one to run us straight into the tunnelers."

  They stood silently. Then Aaron turned without a word. Began walking.

  They went forward.

  There was little else to do.

  114

  CHRISTOPHER DIDN'T know how long they had been walking. It felt like forever. Theresa finally stepped forward and took Hope from his arms.

  "I've got her."

  He nodded his thanks. Licked his lips with a tongue that felt like sandpaper in a mouth packed with dirt. "You wouldn't happen to have anything tasty packed in there," he said, gesturing at Theresa's body armor. Her face darkened for a moment. He raised his hands and said, "I was thinking about water. Or maybe a six-pack of beer." He shook his head sadly. "Where is your mind, Theresa? I'm more than just a beautiful hunk of meat, you know. I have needs. For cuddling and flowers and a large bottles of ice-cold beer."

  Theresa shifted Lizzy to a more comfortable position. Then punched Christopher in the shoulder.

  "Dead arm," he said, grinning as he rotated his shoulder in a large circle. "Nice. Very third grade of you. Very mature."

  "You should talk," said Theresa.

  "Kids," said Maggie. "Stop acting your age."

  "Christopher," said Aaron from ahead. "You really want to be acting like a five-year-old and talking loud enough to call down whatever's in here?"

  That sobered Christopher. Still, before falling back to take a position behind Theresa, he whispered to Maggie, "I have to go to the bathroom. Can we stop the car so I can make pee-pee?"

  Maggie kept walking. But he thought he heard her chuckle.

  He winked at Theresa. She didn't wink back, but traces of a smile pushed at the corners of her lips. She had a dimple, he realized.

  He liked it.

  The rear was an uncomfortable place to be. He was acutely aware of the darkness that bit at his heels, that threatened to swallow him if he fell behind.

  He started closing in a bit on the group. Then stopped himself.

  This is my job now. This is what the person in the rear does. Stays back to protect the ones in the middle, to warn them if something comes from behind.

  He fell back a bit more. Forced himself to the knife edge that separated the light from the dark.

  He listened as he walked. The scrape of the survivors' footsteps rasped like boulders shifting in the dark. He felt like calling forward to tell them to walk quieter, but didn't want to break the rest of the silence that held sway in the tunnels.

  Can't believe I joked about anything down here.

  Humor fell away. Emotion fell away. He focused everything on the sounds, the sights, the smells. Dust swirled in the backsplash of Aaron's light, filling his mouth and making him ever more aware of his thirst. But it was a welcome taste. It was natural and, in a strange way, clean. There was none of the fetid smell of the zombies' breath, their unwashed and in some case rotten bodies.

  He looked forward, then looked back. Watched the tunnel far enough ahead that he was confident of being able to proceed without falling, then turning and walking backward, focusing on the blackness behind him. Forward, back. Forward, back.

  The sound of the survivors' footfalls drifted away. Filtered by some part of his brain that was operating at peak levels. He only heard the silence that surrounded them like a soft blanket.

  And then something touched him. A tickle in his mind that was so light he couldn't be sure if it was sight, sound, smell... or some other sense as yet undefined but still strong in this darkly mystical place.

  It came again. Neither smell nor sight nor sound after all.

  "Stop!"

  The light ceased its motion as Aaron jerked to a halt almost before the word came from Christopher's mouth.

  "What is it?" said the cowboy.

  "Shut up. Everyone quiet."

  Everyone stopped moving. Christopher stood motionless as well, listening, looking, feeling.

  He moved to the side of the tunnel. Tilted his head toward it, listening.

  Then he touched the tunnel wall. As he did so, dirt cascaded from the ceiling above him. But he hadn't been the one to cause the grit and pebbles to dislodge.

  His hand tingled where it touched the wall. And a moment later he could hear what it was he had felt: the motion of the wall. Something beyond. Something in.

  Something coming closer.

  He screamed. "Move!"

  115

  THE BEAM OF THE FLASHLIGHT no longer waved in easy back-and-forth arcs. Now it wounded the darkness in long, thin gashes that closed the instant after they opened. Aaron tried to keep the beam steady for a few steps, then he abandoned the attempt and just ran.

  Maggie and Theresa ran the slowest, encumbered by their silent burdens. But no one ran ahead. Christopher knew that Aaron, Ken, and Amulek could have outdistanced the entire group if they wanted, but they held fast. Amulek was within arm's reach of Aaron, who kept reaching back to make sure he wasn't leaving Maggie behind. Theresa was almost abreast of Maggie, and Christopher kept pushing them both. Not exactly shoving, but urging them to move faster.

  Move. Move. Faster. FASTER.

  Ken was still ahead of the group. Not impossibly far, and he was pacing himself to match them. But he was staying far enough away that he wouldn't be caught by whatever effect Hope and Lizzy exerted on him. He kept looking back, and Christopher could see his eyes flash with concern, with fear, with rage.

  The sound that had been hinted at was now an actual presence. It rolled through the tunnel, a grinding noise that spoke of rocks crumbling, of boulders being chewed to pieces by alien teeth.

  Christopher looked back. The trickle of rocks and sand had become a flood. Piles accumulated on the floor.

  The side of the wall collapsed.

  Christopher saw them.

  116

  ONE TIME – AND ONLY once – Christopher experimented with drugs.

  It was with Heather, after she started using but before he understood the depth and breadth of her addiction.

  She gave him something to smoke. He thought at first it was weed, but there was none of the laid-back feeling he had expected. Weed, from what he understood, was a mellow drug that mostly imparted a general sense that everything would be all right, with the occasional ravenous need for Cheetos.

  This thing, whatever it was she gave him, came with a sudden euphoria that crashed over him and had him giggling by the third puff. A few hits later the euphoria shifted into something else. More intense, harder to describe. The colors in Heather's small apartment – dingier than he had remembered it, which should have been his first clue that something critical had changed inside her – suddenly seemed brighter. Things shifted in the corners of his vision, but when he turned to look at them straight on, there was nothing. Nothing but the shimmering lights that overtook his sight.

  Then he could feel the colors. He could smell the red, could hear the call of the silver shades that flashed off her refrigerator. Sight, sound, touch, taste... it all blended together in a whole that was both bright and dark, all things captured in the oneness of that room.

  He kissed Heather. They had sex – he remembered it as an animal thing. Little of the tenderness that had always marked the times he and Heather made love. It was both hot in its frantic need and cold for the distance he felt between them.

  That was when Carina was conceived.

  When they finished, he looked at her. And though she was unmoving – she had taken much more of the drug than he had, and after sex had retreated into a stupor – her features seemed to ripple.

  Suddenly,
he wasn't looking at Heather. He was looking at a thing. Dark tentacles seemed to sprout from the shadows below her chin, from the black hollows of her eyes.

  He screamed. Screamed more when the tentacles joined and became writhing snakes, reaching toward him, biting at him.

  She turned her head, and her eyes were insane. Coal pits that heated the depths of Hell.

  The snakes bit him. Slashed at his face and he couldn't even lift his hands to protect his flesh from their venom.

  With every bite, Heather changed a bit more. Grew more alien. Eyes fell away, replaced by scales. Then the scales dropped off and there was only a distant nothingness. Her skin shifted and became rubbery, like she was a thing that wore a Heather mask. A costume unwelcome on even the darkest of Halloweens.

  His screams continued. The tentacles bit. He fell into darkness, and still he saw her, saw the thing she had become. He was surrounded by nothing, a lone body floating in a void with only a damned creature for company.

  They fought when he came back to himself. He demanded to know what she had given him. She told him it didn't matter. Asked him to "ride the merry-go-round again" with her. He said no. Shouted it. Asked how long she had been doing it and begged her to stop and told her he loved her in words that were false in that moment, because every time she opened her mouth he saw what had sprung from it in his vision; every time she shook her head he remembered the shadows gathering and sprouting long tentacles that shifted to biting vipers.

  He left. And it took a long time to remember that he had loved her. Hours before he could see anything in his mind other than the vision of what he understood was the face she now preferred.

  It was the ugliest thing he had ever seen. Not even the zombies, with the terror he felt whenever they were near, could match the sheer repulsiveness of that day.

  Now, though, in the dark of the tunnel, he finally saw something the match of what he had seen in Heather's apartment, in the face he glimpsed after doing the drugs with her.