“Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?”
Gwen let her hand drop, the pistol hanging loose in her grip as she looked up at Ethan and shook her head in a negative.
His eyebrows drew together, making a deep furrow on his forehead as his lips tightened. Despite the situation, Gwen felt a tiny smile tug at the corner of her mouth. Ethan would never hold up as a courier in her dad’s business. He couldn’t act worth a damn, every emotion and thought telegraphing as clear as a written banner. Right now, his confusion on seeing her concealed weapon had evidently altered to frustration coloured with anger.
“This is shit,” he muttered. “You’re forcing me to choose between the safety of two friends. If I go with you, Jaego might roll on his back and drown in his own vomit. While if I stay here, there’s no one to watch your back.”
“Don’t try and guilt me, Claymore. It’s not even a choice. I don’t need your protection, but our wino friend,” she said pointing at Jaego’s unconscious form, “does need your help.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened, looking like he was biting back a reply he might regret, then he bent and retrieved his bang stick from its hiding place. “If you’re determined to leave, take this with you,” he said, holding it out. “It’ll be better defence than that peashooter of yours if you get cornered.”
“Thanks, but you need to keep it for your own protection.” Gwen could tell his concern was coming from the right place, but she needed to be gone. “You two will be fine, I’ll come back in the morning again as soon as I can.”
Without waiting for a reply, she opened the door. Gale-strength wind smashed into her, almost ripping the door from her fingers before Gwen had even crossed the threshold. She put her head down, ignoring the needles of rain, and pushed forward into the storm, allowing the door to slam shut behind.
Wind-driven rain hit her body with blistering force, soaking Gwen to the skin within moments. Standing on the doorstep, she shielded her eyes with one hand and peered up the street. Gusts of wind tugged at her clothes, ripping at any lose fold with greedy fingers. The last grey of dusk had faded, while the storm clouds blocked any moonlight.
She’d be running on memory, trying to recall the route the boys had taken in reverse. But there was no other option; Gwen had to make it home. If Harris was prompted to torture her father again because of her absence, she wouldn’t forgive herself. Taking a deep breath, Gwen descended the steps to the street, trying to block thoughts of what might be hidden in the surrounding shadows. Visibility was poor. Anything past twenty metres was erased by rain and darkness. Gwen grit her teeth together and started up the sloping road, head down and leaning into the wind just to stay upright.
She froze, ear cocked to the side, heart hammering. Gwen tried to ignore the fury of the storm to listen. There it was again. A metallic chirp sounded, this time louder than before. Gwen felt as much as she heard the sound, a vibration in her chest that thrummed in time with the noise. The hairs rose on the back of her neck and her gut roiled. Shit, that’s a hunting Tri-Claw. The high-pitched chirp served as a sonar, allowing the creature to narrow in on a target in perfect darkness.
Gwen jerked her gun up, peering over its sights into the storm. The sound had come from directly ahead, blocking her path back home. Adrenaline surged, dilating her pupils, quickening breath and flooding muscles with oxygen-rich blood. She stood her ground as terror gnawed at her mind, the prospect of failing her dad near matching her fears of the Tri-Claw.
The metallic chirp sounded again, battering her chest and ears. Something moved ahead. The force of rain lessened for a few heartbeats, increasing visibility for an additional twenty metres like the lifting of a veil. A massive Tri-Claw crouched on the tarmac ahead. Bigger than a car, it was creeping toward her, oblivious to the storm.
Hunting her.
Spear-pointed legs were flexed, carrying the huge bulk of its segmented shell with the agility of a spider. At the front of the shell lay the head of the creature, if it could be called that. From above, it was protected by thick, chitinous plate and it looked little different to the rest of the shell, but underneath lay four black eyes and a circular mouth, spiked with razor-sharp teeth. A scorpion’s tail arched over its back, the needle-sharp stinger swaying slightly with each step. Two pincers, like the claws of a crab mutated to insane proportions, groped ahead of the monster. Each larger than a dinner plate, they opened and closed rhythmically as if in anticipation of grasping meat between their guillotine blades.
Gwen lined up her pistol and fired, aiming for the head. The bullet ricocheted off the thick chitin plate and the creature moved onward undisturbed. Shit. Gwen stepped backwards, edging towards the house. She fired again, twice in rapid succession. One of the bullets managed to punch through the shell. The Tri-Claw shuddered, legs kicking haphazardly in agony as it screamed, a high-pitch shriek that battered Gwen’s eardrums. Blood streamed from the bullet hole as the creature righted itself, focusing again on its prey.
Gone was the sense of an animal merely hunting for food, she’d made it angry. The scorpion tail flexed over its back, held stiff and ready to strike, claws open wide, ready to snap close. It flexed downwards on its legs, preparing to launch.
Gwen’s brain finally kicked into action. If she stayed put, she’d be feeling the claws about her neck in seconds. She fired twice more, then spun on her heel and sprinted. Over the roar of the wind, she heard it follow. The spiked legs of the Tri-Claw struck the tarmac in rapid-fire staccato. Any second she knew she’d feel the stinger stab into her back, or a claw snip off a limb.
Breath rasped in her throat as she sprinted. There was less than fifteen metres to the front door of the house, but it might as well have been a mile. It was right behind her now, she wasn’t going to make the house. Gwen ducked and rolled to the side, a wide-spread claw snipping close right where her neck had been a split second earlier. The Tri-Claw skidded past her, pointed legs scraping on the road like nails down a blackboard. It was now between her and the front door, blocking her escape route. Icy fingers of panic started to close about her throat. She was fast running out of options. The Tri-Claw emitted another shriek of rage as it arched over her, readying for the kill.
Ethan dumped the bang stick on the table and swore violently as the door slammed behind Gwen. He still didn’t fully understand why she’d be willing to risk such a trip. The stuff she’d alluded to about her father hadn’t made much sense. If the danger of Tri-Claw wasn’t enough, a tropical cyclone was rolling in to batter their island—hardly the best time to risk a journey in the dark.
A sound of retching drew his attention. In the distraction of Gwen’s departure, he hadn’t noticed Jaego roll flat onto his back. Vomit oozed from his mouth, across the edge of his lips and down his neck in viscous strands of mucous and semi-digested food. Ethan dropped to his knees and rolled him back onto his side, so his mate wouldn’t inhale the mess. Convulsive spasms racked Jaego’s unconscious body as he continued to vomit, his stomach rebelling against the dangerous amounts of alcohol ingested.
Once he’d finished, Ethan dragged his mate back from the pool of vomit. He gagged as Jaego belched, a hot waft of sour stomach juice blowing right into Ethan’s face. Thanks, mate. That was real nice.
The shutters along the south side of the house slammed inwards, making him jump as a particularly hard gust hit. Rain was finding its way in through a hundred different cracks, dripping with heavy wet plops from the ceiling. Ethan sat heavily in a chair near Jaego and frowned as he regarded the shuttered window frames. There was a good chance they wouldn’t hold if the storm deteriorated any further. He was about to go for a closer inspection when a high-pitched chirp sounded outside, cutting through the noise of the storm.
Tri-Claw.
He lurched to his feet, dread settling in his chest like a lead weight. Gwen had only just left. If a Tri-Claw was hunting outside, it must have found prey… Gunshots sounded, then a demon-like shriek. Gunshots again. She’s fighting! Ethan
snatched the bang stick off the table and was at the door in three strides, shouldering it aside without conscious thought.
Rain and wind smashed into him as he entered a whirling chaos of storm, water needling his face. Near blinded, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust, then he saw movement below him. Jesus, it’s right beside me. To the left of the steps, the hulk of a Tri-Claw rose, scorpion tail arching over its back. But it was facing away from him. Ethan’s eyes skittered forward, past the monster towards what held its attention. The beast screamed again, a sound that tore at his eardrums like banshee nails. Gwen fired, the sound of her gun like a party-popper compared to the might of the storm. The Tri-Claw shivered under the strike of the bullet, then arched forward ready to strike.
Ethan gripped the pole of the bang stick in a white-knuckled grip and aimed it for the only part of the beast he could reach. Screaming a wordless battle cry, he drove the powerhead into the base of its stinger tail.
Dry mouthed, her legs felt weak as Gwen squeezed off another shot in desperation. The bullet punched a hole through the Tri-Claw’s armour, but the creature shook off the pain with barely a shudder and advanced on her.
A muffled gunshot sounded. That wasn’t me. Confused, she looked up and saw Ethan standing on the house steps above the beast. Brandishing the bang stick like a spear, his face was a rictus of anger, fear, and desperation.
The Tri-Claw screamed as its tail was severed by the point-blank strike and concussive force of the .303 round. The stinger rolled off its chitinous back, needle point stabbing into the grass and missing Gwen’s foot by a hand’s breadth. Agony drove the Tri-Claw into a frenzy. It spun away from them out onto the road, many-jointed legs a spasming maelstrom as claws blindly snapped.
Suddenly, she realised that her path back to the house was free.
“Gwen! Hurry!” screamed Ethan, reaching out a hand.
The Tri-Claw let out another shriek as it gathered its legs beneath and stood again. Gwen glanced back at Ethan, then lurched into motion—legs driving, breath rasping. Her whole world reduced to his hand and the need to reach safety. She knew the beast was closing and that this was her only chance.
Ethan’s fingers closed about her hand, wrenching her up onto the steps and through the door inside. He turned, blocking the way as the Tri-Claw charged from street.
A chaos of legs, claw, wind and rain.
Gwen gained her feet. Heart hammering, she still had her gun in hand. She leant over Ethan’s shoulder and emptied the last of the magazine into the beast.
One last round.
The Tri-Claw shuddered as the bullet struck home, giving a momentary pause as it rushed up the stairs. But it was enough. Gwen jerked Ethan back and slammed the door shut, turning the lock.
As her grip dropped from the handle, the Tri-Claw smashed into the door with the force of a battering ram. The wood bounced and shivered in the frame, a long crack appearing in one of the panels. It wouldn’t hold long. Gwen’s eyes searched the room for something to barricade the doorway, anything to delay the Tri-Claw’s entrance.
Ethan darted away from her to the middle of the room where he grabbed the edge of a mat and pulled it aside. Underneath lay a trapdoor. He heaved it open, revealing a pit of ink black below.
“There’s a cellar down here, probably our best bet,” he said, voice breathless from exertion.
Another blow against the door made Gwen jump. Claws scrabbled at the entrance, gouging rents in the timber like drawn knives.
Ethan glanced up at Gwen, his eyes pleading as he dragged Jaego toward the hole. “I need your help to get him in there. I won’t be able to do it on my own without dropping him.”
Gwen nodded. Escaping momentary inertia, she held onto Jaego’s shoulders while Ethan climbed into the hole and down the ladder, where he took hold of his mate’s descending weight, and lowered him to the ground. Gwen now hung her legs over the edge, feeling about with one foot in the dark until she found the rungs of the ladder.
With a squeal, a long strip of timber tore free of the outside doorway. The tip of one claw poked through the new gap, gripped onto one edge and wrenched. Now that the Tri-Claw could gain a purchase, it rapidly tore the barrier to shreds before her eyes. Gwen grabbed hold of the trapdoor and swung it closed with a crash.
“There’s a slide-bolt on the trapdoor to keep it in place. Quick, Gwen, jam it shut,” urged Ethan.
She fumbled in the pitch black, feeling around the edges with one hand, while the other held for grim life onto the ladder. Not able to see a thing, she had no idea just how far she was in the air.
A crash sounded in the room above, then hard strikes like axe tips into the floorboards. It was inside. Gwen’s hand shook as she madly scrambled for the lock.
She felt Ethan climb up the side of the ladder next to her. “It’s to the left!” he said under his breath, leaning past her. A scrape of metal signalled that he had slid it home. Both froze as the footsteps came overhead, making the trapdoor shiver. Gwen held her breath, every muscle on edge, mind paralysed. It stood still for a moment. Listening. Waiting for them to move and give away their hiding place.
Out in the storm, a hunting chirp of another Tri-Claw sounded. The beast above them responded, a scrabble of knife strikes on the floor sounding as it ran from the house back onto the street.
Gwen let out her breath in a ragged sigh, her arms feeling weak with relief. She started to climb downwards, wanting to hit firm ground before her strength gave out. A thump sounded as Ethan reached the floor ahead of her.
“Watch your feet, Jaego’s on the ground next to the ladder,” he warned.
Gwen stretched out one foot, gently touching around to ensure she didn’t step him.
Even underground the sound of the storm penetrated, although insulated by walls of cut stone and floorboards above, it was reduced to a muted roar. A flare of light came from the corner, blinding her. Gwen raised a hand as a shield, blinking fiercely until her eyes adjusted. Ethan stood from where he had lit a battery-operated lantern in the corner, sending a few grey rats scurrying for the corner shadows.
Now that they were safe again for the moment, Gwen still had the problem of contacting her dad. She reached into an inside pocket of her jacket and extracted her mini-tablet. Gwen dialled her father, then slapped the device against her leg in frustration as the connection failed. Damn it! Will nothing go right today! “Ethan, do you or Jaego have a communication tablet. I can’t get any reception on mine.”
He shook his head. “Nah, but for change, I wish I did. We leave them at home when we head out of the compound—makes sure we can’t get called home before we’re ready.” He crouched by Jaego while he answered, the lantern illuminating his mate’s face in lurid yellow as he began to snore. “Today was no different. We left them in our lockers to make it look like we weren’t wagging school if our parents checked in on our location.” Evidently happy his mate was doing ok, he took a seat on the floor leaning back against the sandstone wall. “It probably wouldn’t help even if we had one here though.”
“What do you mean?”
Ethan shrugged. “I reckon the storm’s knocked out the receiver tower—that would be why you’re not getting any reception.”
Gwen slumped down the wall and took a seat next to him, finally out of ideas. She started to chew on a fingernail, bottom lip quivering slightly. “My dad’s going to be freaking right now.”
Ethan sighed. “Sorry, Gwen. I didn’t mean for this to happen. If it makes you feel any better, my mum won’t see the funny side of this either. Grounded for the year. I reckon the sentence will be no sunlight, let alone time outside the wall.”
“It’s not just that. Me taking off might have put him at risk.”
“How is you being stuck in a storm going to put him at risk?” said Ethan sounding mildly exasperated. “You’re carrying a pistol, then you risk a night run with Tri-Claw. I like you Gwen, but unless you tell me what’s really going on, I don’t think I’ll be able to h
elp you.”
Gwen glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, trying to decide whether to tell him everything. He rolled his eyes at her. “Oh, come on. We trusted you with our find earlier today—and like it or not, we’re in this mess together now.”
She had delivered a black-market laptop to Ethan’s father, so his family obviously had some things to hide like her own. She sighed; what did she have to lose? The way things were heading, it might prove her last night outside a jail cell anyway. Gwen started slowly, explaining her father’s illegal business and her part within it, before outlining what had happened with the Spec Ops lieutenant.
Ethan let out a low whistle as she finished. “Bloody hell, I knew you were holding onto some secrets, but that’s… how can I put this? That’s impressive.”
Gwen nodded sadly. The dim light thrown by the lantern only deepened the shadows of exhaustion under her eyes as she leaned into his shoulder.
“I never would have brought you down here if I knew it would end up placing you and your dad in danger.”
“It’s not your fault, Ethan. After what Maloney did, I had to escape that place for a while. You warned both of us that there was a big storm due, I just didn’t think it would turn into something like this.”
“I don’t think anyone did. As far as I know they hadn’t finished fixing the damage done to the external cladding of our tower block after the last cyclone, and that one wasn’t nearly as strong. God knows what sort of shape the tower’s going to be in once it’s blown out.”
Gwen sat up straight, her eyes wide. “Our families will be ok, won’t they?” She hadn’t even considered the actual storm being a danger to her father until now.
Ethan put an arm around her shoulders and Gwen leant into his embrace, closing her eyes as her head rested on his shoulder.
The Viperob Files Page 10
