Satan's Gate

by Walt Browning

  A man, his dead body disintegrating from the decay of time, lay back against the driver’s seat. His head was canted back and mouth agape, staring at the ceiling. His forehead had a hole near the center. In his right hand was a revolver.

  “Died of lead poisoning,” Shader mumbled. “Hell of a way to go out. So, why’d you bring me here?”

  “Check out the rear seat.”

  Shader moved to the back window and looked in. He jumped as a Variant, no more than a toddler, had its face smashed against the window, its eyes wide and sucker-like mouth attached to the glass. The creature’s razor-like teeth were exposed, searching for its next meal.

  Shader brought his suppressed rifle up and aimed, but the thing didn’t move.

  “It’s dead,” Lazzaro said quietly.

  Shader stopped, willing his heart to slow down. He moved to the window and looked in again. The back of the infected child’s head was gone, blown away by a single gunshot.

  “Shit. He had to kill his own kid,” Gonzalez whispered.

  “That explains the suicide,” Keele added.

  The four men stood quietly for a moment before Shader began to move.

  “Let’s just get this done.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they cleared the left side of the garage and moved to the right. With fewer vehicles, they finished this area even more quickly. Finally, having taken nearly half an hour to make sure the front of the garage was safe, they were back moving toward the entrance to the Forum. The venue’s double metal doors still lay a good hundred yards away, but most of the vehicles in this area were open-bedded electric carts, the kind that transported supplies along the walkways of an airport or, in this case, an entertainment venue.

  The QRF continued their sweep of the area, rapidly approaching the entrance to the Forum.

  “Hey, Chief, check out the car to the right of the doors,” Keele whispered.

  Shader looked through the monocular to where Keele was pointing his infrared laser. The green dot from Keele’s battle rifle was bouncing around on the windshield of a passenger car parked a few yards from the building’s entrance. Something was moving inside.

  “Hold here,” Shader whispered into his neck mic.

  The SEAL slid forward, rifle up and laser pointing at the moving object. The infrared beam was invisible to anyone not wearing a monocular. To Shader and the other three men, it was a solid-green, pencil-thin line that he was painting on the shadowy apparition within the car.

  It was a Variant. And it was very much alive. The creature was strapped into the car with a seatbelt that it hadn’t figured out how to unfasten. The creature sensed Shader’s presence. It let out a blood-curdling, high-pitched scream so alien and frightening, it froze the SEAL in place. Then it jammed its face against the driver’s side window and attached its sucker-like lips to the glass.

  Shader stood, transfixed at the horror. The Variant’s tongue snapped around inside its mouth and onto the window, leaving a trail of thick, mucinous saliva tinged with dark speckles of some unknown calcification. Shader stepped back as the Variant detached itself from the glass and began thrashing to get out of its bindings. It reared its head back again and let out another primal cry.

  This time, there was an answer from behind the double door entrance to the Forum. The giant entertainment venue could hold tens of thousands of people, and naval intelligence had assured them that there were no Variants inside of the structure.

  Shader aimed his laser onto the rabid creature’s head and pressed off three quiet shots. The driver’s side window erupted as wisps of smoke trailed out of the end of his suppressor. Beyond the window, Shader saw what was left of the Variant’s head. Only the attached mandible remained as the rest had exploded, splashing black-speckled goo across the other side of the car. Gonzalez ran forward and scanned the front window for signs of any more of the creatures. There were none.

  Another scream came from behind the double metal doors. It was then followed by silence.

  “Everyone, freeze. Defensive perimeter, now,” Shader whispered.

  The four men took position in a circle, each looking outward, scanning their piece of the pie. They stayed that way for over five minutes. Sweat dripped from each of their faces, collecting in small puddles on the concrete floor. Even though the underbelly of the Forum had started out feeling like a refrigerator, it now felt like the threshold to hell.

  After five minutes, Shader gave the all clear and moved the men away from the double doors.

  “Did you see that?” Gonzalez whispered.

  “It had to have been strapped into that seat since the beginning,” Keele added. “That was not a weak and dying Variant.”

  “Chief. You need to report this to the LT. These things ain’t starving,” Lazzaro said.

  “I know,” Shader said. “Nothing to eat in a month and it sure wasn’t near death.”

  The implications of this intelligence fuck-up were enormous. If they could stay animated for weeks without food, then all the estimates of the Variant population were seriously flawed.

  Shader switched his radio to pre-set channel one. “Red One, Red One. This is Blue One actual. Over.”

  Shader waited for a full thirty seconds. Nothing but static.

  “Red One, this is Blue One. Do you copy? Over.”

  Again, nothing.

  “Too much concrete between us,” Shader mumbled.

  Shader hesitated. The afternoon was passing by and the night was a few hours away. If he turned back now, just yards from the Forum, he’d never be allowed to return. After a few moments of deliberation, Shader decided he needed more information. They had to, at least, check out the building before reporting back. The lieutenant wouldn’t accept a report about one Variant kicking up a storm in the front seat of an abandoned car. He needed more.

  “All right,” Shader said, “let’s get this done. Let’s clear the building.”

  “What about the one we just smoked?” Lazzaro asked.

  “It’ll still be just as dead in an hour. Let’s finish what we started and get back before dark. We’ll make our report then. Do you copy?”

  Shader watched the three of them nod through his NV monocular.

  “Jesus. Is that a solid copy?” he said forcefully, after no verbal response.

  “Copy that,” they finally replied.

  Gonzalez took point, and they returned to the double metal doors.

  Shader took a moment to search the grounds nearby and found a broken wooden palate. He cut one of the broken planks down to a wedge with his KA-BAR knife then ordered them forward.

  Gonzalez stopped at the door and gently checked the opening lever. It depressed without a problem.

  “Not locked,” Gonzalez whispered.

  Shader pointed at Keele, the last man in line. The corporal dropped his slung M4 to his side and moved up to the door. He grasped the handle and prepared to open it.

  “Slow at first, Keele. I don’t want any noise.”

  Shader gave him the wooden wedge and whispered. “You’re the last man. Wedge this under the door after we’re through.”

  Keele nodded, and Shader ignored his lack of verbal response. They were all on the edge.

  Gonzalez positioned himself in front of the door and brought up his rifle.

  “Ready, Gonzalez?” Shader whispered.

  “Ready.”

  “Remember, slow and steady… Now.”

  The Marine gently drew the door back, only the faintest of sound coming from the well-oiled hinges.

  About a third of the way open, Shader whispered. “Let’s go. Move.”

  Keele brought the steel panel back and wedged it open. Gonzalez strode inside, then banked to his right. Shader, Lazzaro, and Keele quickly followed, each man taking a pre-determined path into the bowels of the Forum.

  Moments later, they were staring at an empty hallway. The silence was oppressive. The air hung heavily around them, and the stench of rotting food or some other degenerating f
lesh was overwhelming. Lazzaro nearly retched from it.

  They waited for several minutes. It helped them adjust to the stench and gave Shader a chance to listen for any sounds. He knew there was at least one more of these things in here, and he didn’t want to accidentally stumble across it. No sense rushing things when winning a battle wasn’t about speed but creating the best angles to gain the greatest advantage.

  The hallway was wide, with a padded carpet that would let them move silently. That would help mask their movements.

  Shader tapped Gonzalez on the shoulder, and the short Marine turned right and began to move. Heel-to-toe strides kept his rifle’s barrel level and steady. He swept his view from side to side, scanning the space ahead.

  To their right, the outer wall had recessed alcoves with Formica-covered counters about three feet off the ground. Each kiosk was about thirty feet wide. Many were permanent food vendors with idle refrigerators attached to the back wall. Cash registers anchored the left side of the counter. Still others were empty, likely used by the many performing acts to sell their merchandise. All the openings had to be addressed and cleared.

  The four moved gradually, and about thirty minutes into their sweep, they had covered nearly a quarter of the circumference of the building.

  In the distance, the sound of V-22s could be heard approaching the area. The noise Shader heard was not so much the high-pitched whine of the engines, but the thump of the craft’s twin propellers. The WHUMP, WHUMP, WHUMP of the compressed air created by the giant blades sent out low frequency sonic waves that penetrated the walls of the large building. By the sound of the heavy shuddering, multiple Osprey were landing outside. The vibrations made the air around them shudder, and the squad stopped to wait for this to pass. Many minutes went by before the aircraft took flight, allowing the building to fall silent once again.

  After resuming their mission, Gonzalez suddenly froze and held up a closed fist, stopping the rest of the fireteam.

  “You hear that?” he whispered to Shader.

  The SEAL bent his ear out, closed his eyes, and held his breath, searching for any sound he could find.

  There! Something ahead and to the right, he said to himself.

  “Heard it,” Shader whispered.

  “Sounds like it’s coming from the head,” Gonzalez said, pointing his laser at a restroom sign about thirty meters down the hallway.

  “Agreed. Keep going and stop short of the opening.”

  Gonzalez crept forward, continuing his clearing ritual. Stop, look left, then slowly scan to the right. Quickly swing the rifle left again then look forward and take two strides, heel to toe. Then freeze and listen. After a few seconds, start the process all over again.

  Twenty meters further, and the noise coming from the bathroom area was becoming louder. What had started out sounding like the faint scratching and squeaking of a rodent in the walls now became more distinct. Shader listened to the wheezing and grunting of what had to be a trapped or injured animal.

  “I think we found our screamer,” Shader whispered into his neck mic. “Lazzaro, you’re on me.”

  Lazzaro moved up to Shader as Gonzalez and Keele set up overwatch, each taking opposite sides of the hallway.

  “I’ll go first,” Shader said. “You break right. Weapons hot. Put this thing down before it can make a noise.”

  Both men stacked up at the bathroom’s opening. Shader crept forward until he came to a ninety-degree bend to the left. The sounds became more pronounced. Whatever was on the other side of the turn was struggling mightily.

  “Move,” Shader whispered.

  They turned the corner as a pair, and both men brought their weapons up and at eye level.

  Urinals lined the left side of the space, with toilet stalls and sinks on the right. Movement at the end caught their attention. The shape in Shader’s NVGs didn’t make sense. It was a mass of flesh moving and churning against the wall. Shader hesitated, then took a step forward. He could see three, no four arms and more than two legs. Whatever it was, it needed to be put down.

  Lazzaro, his hand still on Shader’s shoulder, froze in place. While Shader struggled to understand the misshapen form writhing on the floor in front of them, Lazzaro knew immediately what it was.

  “Oh, fuck no!” Lazzaro said as he put the green IR laser dot onto the creature’s head. Before Shader could respond to the corporal’s sudden movement, Lazzaro’s rifle spat out five bullets. Seeing the young Marine move and kill so quickly surprised the SEAL. He watched as Lazzaro walked up to the mass and sent three more lead pills into the pile of infected tissue.

  “What the hell?” Shader hissed.

  Lazzaro just stood, dumbfounded. The Marine turned back to face the SEAL and took two unsteady steps before lunging into a stall and dumping his lunch. Lazzaro puked with such force that he made more noise than the suppressed shots he’d just taken.

  Shader moved behind the man and waited for the nausea to subside.

  “You squared away?” Shader asked after a half a minute of retching.

  “Yeah,” Lazzaro mumbled as he continued to hover over the porcelain bowl. “That was just wrong.”

  Shader turned and took another look at the creature Lazzaro had just killed. Staring at the pile of infected tissue, forms and outlines began to take shape.

  It was then that Shader realized the futility of Operation Liberty. Humanity was not going to survive simply by waiting for the eventual starvation of its infected brethren anymore. There wasn’t going to be a mass die-off. The future of the Variants wasn’t just spreading disease to non-infected humans because what Shader saw told the SEAL that they were truly and utterly fucked.

  It was a pair of very healthy-looking Variants, and they had been mating.

  “Jesus help us,” Shader said, staring at the dead eyes of a female Variant that looked very strong, and more than capable of bearing offspring.

  “Chief,” Gonzalez’s voice crackled over the team headsets. “We’ve got movement out here.”

  “Be right there.”

  “You’d better hurry. We’ve got a lot of noise coming our way.”

  Shader grabbed the back of Lazzaro’s chest rig and pulled him from the stall, dragging him along until they were out in the hallway.

  Once out of the confines of the public bathroom, he could hear multiple grunts and chirps coming from the Forum’s main floor. Across the walkway from them was an open tunnel with stairs that led into the venue’s arena. The noises were coming from there.

  “Holy shit. We woke the dead,” Shader grunted.

  “I don’t know,” Gonzalez whispered. “You didn’t make that much noise.”

  “Whatever stirred the pot, I don’t want to be here when those things come squirting out,” Keele said in a panicked voice.

  Movement from their left froze the team. Several Variants lumbered out of a tunnel at the bend of the circular walkway. Fortunately, they turned away from the team and quickly disappeared. Unfortunately, they were moving toward the entrance to the underground garage. Their way back had just been compromised.

  “This just gets better and better,” Shader said. “Let’s keep moving and find a place to hole up. Keep your eyes open for something to the right, and we better do it now.”

  Gonzalez began to practically fly down the hallway. The sound of restless Variants was becoming more and more pronounced as they passed several more tunnels that led to the main floor.

  “Up ahead. Take a right,” Shader said.

  A large hallway opened, and the team glided swiftly down it, leaving the main concourse behind.

  It quickly became clear that they had entered a service tunnel. Heavy-gauge electric conduits ran along the seam where the ceiling and walls met. Doors with placards that marked the offices of various venue departments were all closed and locked. Every knob or lever was checked as they scurried away from the expanding cacophony of screeches and grunts that were coming from behind them.

  The end of t
he tunnel approached, and Shader turned back toward the concourse. He saw movement. In the pitch darkness, he could only make out shadows as the creatures spilled out of the tunnels that led to the venue’s main floor. He lost count, as the Variants became so numerous that they appeared as one massive organism in his NVG monocular. Even the infrared flashlight couldn’t give him a clear image.

  The team kept moving away from the growing threat, checking the locks on each door they passed. None were open.

  The end of the hallway rapidly approached. It was a service elevator. Its oversized metal doors stood silent as the men drew near. With no electricity, the lift would prove as impenetrable as the locked office doors that lined the hallway.

  “Shader. To the left,” Gonzalez whispered into his neck microphone.

  Shader turned to see the little Marine disappear down a side passage that almost magically appeared at the end of the tunnel. Porky rushed ahead and cut around the bend just as several Variants began to probe down the service hallway. He didn’t know whether it was the sound of the Marines’ movement or the smell of their sweat that got the creatures’ attention, but something triggered this group to turn in the team’s direction.

  Shader looked down the short dead end and saw his men checking the knobs of three more rooms. Just like the rest of the hallway doors, they were locked. There was nowhere left for them to go.

  Shader dropped to his knees and bent his head around the corner, looking back toward the concourse. Three Variants, two males and a female, were moving their way. The creatures’ yellow eyes lit up in the infrared beam as they crept toward him and his men.

  If the Variants kept their pace, they’d be on the team in just a few more seconds. He could only hope that their suppressed shots would silently put the creatures down. But if they failed to take these three out quietly, it would be Custer and the Alamo, all rolled up into one glorious last stand.

  “Gonzalez and Keele, set up a firing line. Lazzaro, start working on that lock,” Shader said, pointing at the last door down.

  The men quickly responded, and Shader stood behind the two Marines who had taken a kneeling position while Lazzaro began to work the lock just behind them.