The Survivalist (Solemn Duty)

by Arthur T. Bradley

  Sliding both knives back into their sheaths, she feinted in one direction and then darted toward the Merkel. She managed to scoop it up but wasn’t quite fast enough to get off a shot before the nail board crashed into her left shoulder. The bite of the nails brought a stinging pain that radiated down her arm, and she cried out as she stumbled sideways.

  Cradling the Merkel in the crook of her wounded arm, she swung the muzzle around and squeezed the first of its two triggers. The rifle bucked rearward, and it was all she could do to hang onto it as she was thrown backward. The 500-grain slug slammed into the troglodyte’s shoulder, spinning him around as he toppled to his knees. Rather than shoot him a second time, she stepped forward and smashed the butt of the weapon against the base of his oversized skull.

  He fell forward, one hand helping to break his fall.

  She hit him again, and this time, blood spilled out onto the floor.

  “Issa!”

  Mother’s scream instinctively caused Issa to duck, and that motion saved her life. The second troglodyte’s nail board swished overhead with an ominous whoosh. Issa swung the Merkel around and fired. The bullet opened a quarter-sized hole in the troglodyte’s chest, cracking his sternum and pulverizing his heart. He teetered for a moment and then collapsed lifelessly to the floor.

  With both bodyguards dead, Issa straightened and took a quick look at her shoulder. Four punctures cut deep into the muscle. While each hole sent blood trickling down her arm, none pumped with the force of an arterial wound.

  She scanned the room for something to help stem the bleeding. When she couldn’t find anything better, she cut a strip of cloth from Mother’s bedding and struggled to tie it around her arm. Not only was it awkward to do with one hand, her arms ached from trying to curtail the powerful recoil of the Merkel. It was a weapon meant to be fired from the shoulder by the most powerful of men, not at the hip by a woman seven months pregnant.

  Seeing her struggle, Mother hurried over and helped to secure the bandage.

  “Issa, what’s happening?” she said, tying off the knot.

  “Your guards were working with General Gaius. He’s on his way here now.”

  “Gaius? But why?”

  “My guess is to see you hang.”

  “Gaius would never betray me.”

  Issa nudged one of the fallen troglodytes.

  “I suspect you’d have said the same of these two not ten minutes ago.”

  Mother glanced toward the door, as if expecting to see it suddenly burst open.

  “But why would they do this?”

  Issa opened the breech on her rifle and inserted two fresh cartridges.

  “Simple. Your vision is one they cannot accept.”

  “What vision?”

  Issa rubbed her stomach. “An intermingling of us and them.”

  “But I’ve always been loyal to my people. I only wanted—”

  “I know what you wanted, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve made people afraid, and frightened people are dangerous people.”

  “I can talk to them, make them understand.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it. They’ve already gotten a taste for killing.”

  “Killing? Who?”

  “Chloe.”

  Mother’s face twisted in anguish. “No, not my dear Chloe. She was little more than a child. Why would they do such a thing?”

  “It’s a long story, and one that I don’t have time to go into at the moment.” Issa grabbed the closest troglodyte’s feet and began dragging him over in front of the door. “Suffice it to say that the time for peaceful negotiation has passed.”

  They both stiffened at the sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway.

  “That would be your loyal general coming to pay tribute.” Issa stepped closer to Mother and said, “You asked where my loyalties lie. They’re with you. But if you choose to stay here, you’ll die alone. I won’t sacrifice the life of my child.”

  “I would never ask that,” she whispered.

  “Good.” Issa scanned the room, her eyes settling on the door at the back of the room. “Where’s that lead?”

  “To the nursery.”

  “Anywhere else?”

  “A few other rooms and the building’s rear staircase.”

  “The staircase… is that the one that leads down to the tunnels?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “We have to go.” Issa grabbed Mother’s arm and began tugging her toward the door.

  “But—”

  “But what!” she snapped.

  “What about my babies?”

  “They won’t hurt them.”

  “Even so, I won’t be here to feed them,” her voice broke, “to hold them.”

  It was then that Issa understood what was truly holding Mother back. She was being asked to leave her children. While she had given birth to hundreds of babies in the past year, they remained her flesh and blood. Leaving them in the care of violent men was almost unimaginable.

  Issa softened her grip on Mother’s arm.

  “If you stay, it’s a certainty they’ll never again feel your embrace. Come with me, and there may yet be a chance.”

  Mother nodded as tears formed at the corner of her black eyes.

  “Tell me this wasn’t all for nothing, that our people still have a future in this world.”

  Issa gently pulled her toward the door.

  “They do if we hurry.”

  Chapter 19

  The rungs of the ladder were cold, the dull gray paint cracked and peeling under Tanner’s and Samantha’s fingers. Without the flashlight to illuminate their way, it felt as if they were descending into a subterranean cavern.

  “Tanner,” she whispered.

  He paused to look up at her.

  “What?”

  “Do you think there are eyeless lizards living in here?”

  His brow wrinkled. “We’re hunting mutant body snatchers, and you’re afraid of lizards?”

  “It’s not that I’m afraid of them. They’re just yucky, that’s all.”

  “Don’t worry about it. No giant lizards, I promise,” he said, continuing down.

  “Oh, they’re not giant. They’re about the size of a pinky and have glowing skin. Honestly, they look a bit like worms dipped in white chocolate.”

  “Sounds yummy.”

  “Gross,” she said, following after him. “You’re kidding, right? Tanner?”

  He grinned but said nothing more. The question of whether or not he would actually eat a glowing eyeless lizard was beside the point. Tanner had found that a little uncertainty about such topics only added to his rugged mystique. Besides, it got Samantha riled up, and that was always a treat in itself.

  As they descended, they began to hear a strange noise that sounded like bellows breathing life into a dying fire.

  “Tanner,” she whispered again. “What’s that?”

  “Sounds like air moving in and out of the silo. Probably an open vent somewhere.”

  “It doesn’t sound like any vent I’ve ever heard.”

  “Really? And you’ve listened to many vents, have you?”

  “You know what it really sounds like?”

  He didn’t answer, knowing full well that she was going to tell him anyway.

  “A dragon, that’s what.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Sure, I’ve always wanted a pet dragon.”

  “Are you crazy? Dragons breathe fire and can bite a man in half with a single chomp.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I want one.”

  She thought about that as they continued their slow steady descent, finally saying, “If there are dragons down here, I hope we find a sweet purple one that’ll let me ride on its back.”

  Tanner smiled. Given their life, it was sometimes easy to forget that Samantha was a twelve-year-old girl. As such, dragons and glowing lizards were perfectly natural trappings to her creative imagination.

  “I’m sure if t
here are dragons, there’ll be one with a saddle just your size. Now, hush, will you? We’re trying to sneak up on whatever else might be hiding in here.”

  “After all the shooting we did up there, I think we’re way past that.”

  “Even so, humor me.”

  “Fine,” she said. “But in case you hadn’t noticed, the breathing, it’s getting louder.”

  And it was. The gentle flow of air now reverberated up through the long hollow tube, a wheezy heee-haww that, by God, did sound an awful lot like a sleeping dragon.

  Unable to get to his flashlight without risking dropping the Mare’s Leg or saddle bags, Tanner stopped and gave Samantha’s pants leg a gentle tug.

  “Shine a little light down there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  “Just turn it on. I want to see what’s making that noise.”

  With one arm hooked through the ladder, Samantha pulled the flashlight from her back pocket and clicked it on.

  As the light flooded the shaft, it took a moment for them to accept the enormity of what they were seeing. At the bottom of the silo was a huge mass, dark and wet. Body parts, both human and animal, protruded from the squishy muck like pretzels from a bowl of chocolate pudding. Dozens, if not hundreds, of human heads floated on the surface, eyes closed, faces twisted in eternal agony. With every collective breath, the blob swelled and contracted like a giant fleshy balloon.

  Heee-haww.

  The words slowly dribbled out of Samantha’s mouth.

  “What—is—that?”

  “That, my dear, is Mama Bear.”

  Using one arm, Tanner pulled the saddlebags off his shoulder and slid them around front. As the tightly packed bags clunked against the ladder, the blob’s countless eyes suddenly flicked opened.

  “Tanner,” Samantha whispered sharply, “it’s alive. I mean really alive, like a hundred angry eyeballs glaring at us kind of alive.”

  Tanner said nothing as he began untying the saddlebags.

  “Should we talk to it?” she asked.

  “You do what you want. I’m gonna burn it.”

  She stared down at the creature, wondering perhaps if it was simply misunderstood. It was, after all, primarily a collection of people, many of who had probably been nice enough. Maybe it wasn’t out to hurt anyone but was just trying to survive, same as every other living thing. Perhaps with a bit of honest dialogue, they could come to some kind of understanding.

  She cupped her hand around her mouth and hollered to it in a slow voice.

  “Can you communicate?”

  No response.

  “You’re hurting people. Do you understand?”

  Still nothing.

  “Please, if you’ll just speak to us, perhaps—.”

  Every mouth opened in unison as it prepared to speak.

  “Go on,” she coaxed. “You can do it.”

  “Feed me!” it bellowed.

  The sound was so loud, so unnerving, that Samantha lost her grip on the ladder and fell. Fortunately, Tanner was three feet beneath her, and she landed abruptly on his shoulders. For him, it became a choice of either stopping her fall or hanging onto the saddlebags and Mare’s Leg. He chose to catch her, letting both the gun and napalm slip from his grasp to crash onto the creature’s belly fifty feet below.

  Samantha clung to the rungs with both hands, her flashlight falling to land next to the saddlebags on the wet mass.

  “Sam,” he growled.

  “Sorry. It scared me.”

  Tanner stared down at the saddlebags. The napalm was their only hope of killing something so large. Despite his previous words to the contrary, this was one of those rare instances where bullets just weren’t going to cut it.

  “Jars probably broke in the fall,” he said. “If we can get a little fire down there, we may still have our barbeque.”

  “But weren’t the matches in the saddlebags?”

  “They were, but even if we had them, they’d probably miss their mark or blow out as they fell.”

  “Feed me!” boomed the creature again.

  Samantha’s grip tightened on the ladder.

  “I really wish it would stop doing that.”

  Tanner thought for a moment. “We need a really hot fire, something that’s hard to put out.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “And old fatso upstairs just happens to be doused in it.”

  “Right!” she said, catching on. “I’ll climb back up and make a torch. Then you can take it down closer and toss it onto the backpack. It’s perfect.”

  “I’ll go. You wait here.”

  “Unh-unh,” she said, shaking her head. “You’d have to climb over me. Plus, I’m the one who messed this up. I’ll do it.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded. “I got this.”

  “All right, but be careful. That stuff burns hot.”

  “I will, I promise!”

  As Samantha started back up the ladder, the creature roared for a third time.

  “Feed me!”

  Tanner looked down at it and smiled.

  “Hang on, sunshine. Dinner’s a comin’.”

  Samantha climbed as quickly as she dared without risking a fall. Tanner was forgiving, but plunging two stories to land on his head was asking too much, even for him.

  When she reached the uppermost level, she swung a leg over the railing and hurried down the rounded corridor. Thankfully, the shoggoth was still burning, not quite a forest fire, more like a pool of molten lava. Even so, it cast an orange glow over the area, making her feel as if she were walking into a Halloween fun house.

  “Plenty of fire,” she said, studying the smoldering shoggoth. “Now, I just need some way to carry it down.”

  She carefully stepped around the behemoth and squatted next to one of Purdy’s fallen men. In the dim light, he looked kind of peaceful, even if his face was pretty banged up.

  She rested a hand gently on his chest to see if he was breathing.

  He wasn’t.

  “Sorry about what he did to you,” she said softly. “I know you were just trying to help your family be safe. But don’t worry, Tanner and I will finish this.”

  Using her knife, Samantha carefully cut through the shoulder straps of his protective vest and pulled it away. Underneath was a tan-colored t-shirt, the collar speckled with dried blood. She carefully slit up each side until she could pull the entire shirt free. With the tattered t-shirt in hand, she looked for something to wrap it around. Her gaze settled on the shoggoth’s hammer lying nearby.

  It could work, she thought, but it would be heavy carrying down a ladder. She scanned the hall for the hook. Gone, probably over the edge.

  The hammer would have to do.

  She hurried over and picked it up, carefully wrapping its steel head with the dead man’s shirt. The makeshift torch was more than heavy, it was unwieldy, and Samantha began to wonder if she would be able to carry it down the ladder without falling or burning her eyebrows off in the process.

  “You can do it,” she said. “You can do anything.”

  She smiled. Like it or not, Tanner was rubbing off on her.

  She stood in the glow of the corridor, taking a moment to reflect on just how surreal life had become. A man lay dead at her feet, and the stink of a smoldering goliath surrounded her. Strangely, neither repulsed her. She had seen and done things that most people couldn’t even imagine, and she wasn’t even thirteen!

  A loud clunk sounded in the direction of the control room. She spun, instinctively bringing up the hammer for protection.

  The room remained dark, with only the outline of one of the consoles visible in the faint orange glow.

  She knelt and felt of the floor. There was a slight vibration, footsteps. Something was on the move, but from where? Were creatures returning to the silo from outdoors? Or perhaps others were dropping down from the
ventilation system? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she not be there when they showed up.

  “Time to go,” she whispered.

  She hustled over to the shoggoth and rolled the head of the cloth-wrapped hammer in the flaming goo covering its flesh. Within seconds, she had a torch worthy of exploring King Tut’s tomb.

  She straightened and ran back down the hallway. The makeshift torch was heavy, but at least it provided a modicum of light for her to navigate. Carefully stepping over the railing, she mounted the ladder and started down. Descending required that she keep the flaming hammer above her head, a feat nearly impossible given its weight. With a little trial and error, not to mention a few singed hairs, she managed to find a way to rest the crook of the hammer on the rung above her as she carefully worked her way down.

  By the time she reached Tanner, Samantha was soaked in sweat and her arms ached terribly.

  “We need to hurry,” she said, nearly out of breath. “They’re on the move.”

  He reached up. “Pass it to me.”

  She handed the torch down, nearly burning both of them in the process.

  “You head up while I go light the fuse.”

  “Head up?” she said confused. “To where?”

  He gestured toward the top of the silo.

  “We’ll go out through the launch doors.”

  She looked up at the opening, which was now barely visible. Either it had gotten dark outside, or the eye was closing.

  “Are you sure you can fit? It’s not like you’ve gotten any smaller since we looked at it the last time. If anything…” She left the rest unsaid.

  “Just go.”

  “All right,” she muttered. Samantha pulled her derringer from its holster and held it out to him. “Just in case.”

  He wanted to tell her to keep it, but common sense prevailed, and he slipped it into his front pocket.

  “Go. Now.”

  As Samantha hurried back up the ladder, she glanced down and hollered, “If you happen to find a tub of butter down there, you might want to grab it!”

  “Wiseacre,” he muttered under his breath as he started down.