by Jake Bible
He ejects the fresh magazine, bounces it in his hand, and then throws it right at Kreigel. The black metal rectangle is absorbed into the ooze instantly. Kreigel’s body takes a stutter step forward, then immediately steps back. The ooze seems to turn a bright yellow for a second, then returns to its former green.
The magazine is pushed out of the ooze and falls to the ground in a melted glop of metal. Kreigel awkwardly kicks at it and sends it skidding part of the way back to Bolton.
“That didn’t work,” Lowell says.
“And was a total waste of ammo,” Toloski says.
“It didn’t work,” Bolton says.
“No shit, Sergeant Slaughter,” Lowell says. “I just said that.”
“But why didn’t it work?” Bolton asks. “When those other monsters ate the ammo, they filled up with that grey foam and died right then. It didn’t even affect the ooze. It should have affected the ooze. All this shit came from the same fucking volcano! Why didn’t it affect the ooze?”
The fumes in the break room thicken, and everyone begins coughing even harder than before.
“The ammonia,” Kyle says after he catches his breath. “The ooze is ammonia based.”
“We don’t know that,” Holt says.
“Call it a guess, asshole,” Lu says in defense of her son, then starts coughing and hacking. “If they are ammonia based, or have ammonia as part of their components, then the gunpowder won’t react negatively,” Kyle says. “It’ll have no effect, really.”
“Ammonium nitrate,” Toloski says as he looks down at the melted magazine.
“Shit,” Holt says. “These ooze things aren’t the same as the big monsters.”
“Or they changed to fit our tactics,” Lowell says.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Bolton says.
Kreigel lurches forward, his whole body nothing but an ooze creature now. He stumble steps across the break room at the group as they slowly move backwards until everyone has their backs against the wall. Bolton leans down and helps Lu to her feet, holding her close to him as he angles his body in front of hers.
There’s a clatter behind Kyle as he bumps into the shelves. He turns and looks over his head and sees the jars of pickles and marmalade.
“I have an idea,” Kyle says.
All eyes turn to him, and Bolton and Lu both frown as they watch their son pick up a jar of kosher dills.
“Not the time for a snack, Kyle,” Bolton says.
“Shut up,” Kyle says as he tries to open the lid to the jar. “It’s vinegar, dipshit.”
“Hey,” Lu growls. “You don’t talk to people that way.”
Bolton shakes his head and smiles. “No, he’s right. I’m a dipshit.” He holds out his hand. “Give it here. I’ll get it open.”
Kyle tries to twist the lid again, then gives up and reluctantly hands it to Bolton. The man nods, and then gives it a try. He grips the lid with one hand and the jar with the other and turns, but all that happens is his sweat slicked palm slips around the rim, making zero progress.
“Wipe your hands,” Lowell suggests.
“Use your shirt,” Holt says.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Lu says, and takes the jar from Bolton, then looks at Toloski. “Ready?”
“Ready for what?” Toloski asks as Lu throws the jar at the Kreigel ooze creature. “Oh!”
Toloski takes aim and fires, shattering the jar against Kreigel. Pickles, glass, and brine coat the ooze, and the Kreigel creature starts wailing and shrieking, causing everyone to clamp their hands over their ears.
“Jesus! Shut it up!” Lowell yells.
The thing starts turning this way and that as it stumbles about the break room. Massive globs of ooze splat to the floor and lie there, their only movements a pitiful bubbling that quickly stops after a second. The Kreigel creature shrieks again and again as it spins about and rushes the barricade, its “hands” scraping at the debris used to block the entrance.
“Another one?” Kyle asks as he grabs a second jar and bounces it in his hands. He almost fumbles it and grips it tight, an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry.”
“Set the miracle pickles down, kid,” Lowell says. “Or hand them over to the professionals.”
“I think it’s about done,” Bolton says as they watch the Kreigel creature start to slow and wobble.
It turns about and gives one last shriek before it falls forward onto its face. The entire top half of the thing bursts open, and bubbling ooze spreads across the floor, coating the area directly in front of the barricade.
“Don’t step in that,” Lowell says. “You might slip.”
“That took care of that,” Kyle says, then glances at the shelves. “Four jars left.”
“There’s a lot more than four of those things out there,” Lowell says as he points at the barricade.
“The air is a little better,” Lu says, but still coughs. “Smells like a New York deli, though.”
“Pickles and cat piss,” Lowell says. “Nice.”
“The vinegar neutralized most of the ammonia,” Kyle says, then swallows hard and shakes his head. “But not enough. We’ll still suffocate if we don’t get out of here soon.”
There’s a banging against the other side of the barricade, and some of the boards and furniture shudder.
“Shit,” Toloski says. “I think the things want in now that we’ve taken down their inside man.”
Another bang, and the barricade shudders more, a chair coming loose and falling to the floor.
“Air vent?” Lowell asks, pointing up at a ventilation grate on the ceiling near the wall.
“Back in Coeur d’Alene you thought that only happened in movies,” Bolton smirks.
“Then you told me your pee pee story,” Lowell shrugs. “Worth a shot.”
“Pee pee story?” Kyle asks.
“I was in a hide,” Bolton says. “Had to piss in a diaper and not move so it wouldn’t stink.”
“Been there,” Toloski says.
“Smelled that,” Holt agrees.
“We’re smelling it now,” Lowell says. “Maybe we take a look?” Another bang from the barricade. “And fast.”
“Fine,” Bolton says. He lets Kyle take Lu and walks over to the wall. Holt is right behind him and cups his hands. “Thanks.”
Bolton steps into Holt’s hands and gets a boost up to the ventilation grate.
“Nope,” Bolton says. “Not big enough. I didn’t think a place like this would make that mistake.”
“Then how the fuck do we get out of here?” Lowell asks. “Maybe if we had more pickles we could kill the chipmunk brigade out there, but we don’t.”
They all look at each other, but no one offers an answer. They turn their attention to the barricade as the banging starts up again and doesn’t stop.
***
Dr. Probst glares at Dr. Bennet as he comes into the infirmary, his face drawn and tired, looking like he’s gone twenty rounds with a heavyweight champ. In a way, on an intellectual level, he had.
“Are you fucking joking with these things?” Dr. Probst asks as she strains against the restraints. “So, I am a prisoner then.”
“No, no,” Dr. Bennet says as he hurries over to the exam table as fast as his exhausted legs can carry him. He quickly undoes the restraints on Dr. Probst’s legs and wrists. “I’m actually surprised you’re awake. It’s close to two in the…”
The punch comes fast and hard, and Dr. Bennet stumbles back against a tray of instruments. Medical equipment tumbles to the floor as Dr. Probst pushes off the table and closes on Dr. Bennet.
“I don’t care what time it is,” Dr. Probst snaps. “I just care about getting the hell out of here as fast as possible.”
“You can’t,” Dr. Bennet sighs, rubbing his chin. He holds up his hands as he sees the look of anger on Dr. Probst’s face. “Don’t hit me again! It’s not my call. Burkhorst has decided you are now a permanent guest.”
“Permanent guest?” Dr. Probst asks, h
er jaw dropping. “Iam a prisoner! You lying asshole!”
She closes on Dr. Bennet, but the man quickly moves out of swinging reach and puts another exam table between them.
“You have skills we need,” Dr. Bennet says. “That’s why you get to be a guest and aren’t being tossed into the Substance! You have no idea how much convincing it took to get Burkhorst to agree to this! Don’t mess it up by proving her point that you are volatile and a risk to the facility!”
“I’ll find a way out,” Dr. Probst says. “I didn’t live through everything up there to be some mad scientist’s token geologist!”
“You don’t want to go topside,” Dr. Bennet says. “We did readings, and the entire area is unsafe.”
“Why? More monsters?” Dr. Probst sneers. “I can handle monsters.”
“The amount of ammonia gas is at unsustainable levels,” Dr. Bennet says. “You’ll be dead in a couple hours as soon as you step out of the warehouse.”
“Unsustainable?” Dr. Probst asks. “Then what about my friends? What about the Navy SEALs and the others? We can’t leave them up there!”
“We have to,” Dr. Bennet says. “We can’t leave here, either. None of us. The warehouse doors stay locked when the elevator is engaged and up top. There’s no way to go up, open the doors, get your friends, and get back inside. Burkhorst will lock the elevator down and leave us up there. She knows everything that happens around here.”
“Not everything,” Dr. McDaniels says from the doorway, Dr. Mannering right behind her. “There’s another way, but it leads into the other side of the bunker.”
“That’s where Kyle and Marshal Morgan are,” Dr. Probst says. “And Bolton and that Lowell.”
“Anson Lowell,” Dr. Mannering says. “He doesn’t have to come down here, too, does he?”
“Why?” Dr. Probst asks.
“We’ve read his file,” Dr. McDaniels says. “We just read all their files. Lowell is not a good person.”
“Yeah, I said that,” Dr. Probst says.
“No, he’s like a really, really bad person,” Dr. Mannering insists. “Killed judges and cops. Kidnapped a little girl. He killed Federal prison guards and some inmates. The guy is a real animal.”
“Oh,” Dr. Probst responds, looking for confirmation from the others, and getting it by the looks on their faces. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”
“He’s been in prison since he was a teenager,” Dr. McDaniels says. “For good reason.”
“Okay, okay, so he’s a killer. But is he evil? I don’t think so. He did come up with the way to kill the monsters,” Dr. Probst says. “That has to be worth something.”
“A way to kill the monsters?” Dr. McDaniels asks. “What kind of way?”
“You lure them in with diesel fuel, then feed them ammunition,” Dr. Probst says. “The gunpowder reacts with their systems and forms a type of foam. I wanted to study it, but the second eruption hit, and I didn’t get a chance.”
“Gunpowder?” Dr. Mannering asks, looking at Dr. McDaniels.
“A foam? Interesting,” Dr. McDaniels responds. “You said it was grey?”
“Yeah,” Dr. Probst says. “Grey and thick.”
“Graphite reaction?” Dr. Mannering asks.
“How?” Dr. McDaniels responds. “There isn’t enough graphite in gunpowder to make that kind of reaction.”
“Could the creatures have graphite in their systems already?” Dr. Mannering wonders.
“Possible,” Dr. Mannering says. “But that would be a new development. Previous tests did not indicate any hint of graphite.”
“Gunpowder would not…”
“Shut up,” Dr. Probst snaps. “My people may know more about it and didn’t have time to tell me. We get them, and then you’ll have all the information.”
“Valid argument,” Dr. Mannering says.
“Saving lives in the first place was a valid argument,” Dr. McDaniels says.
“You know what I mean,” Dr. Mannering says.
“If you are going to do it, then now is the time,” Dr. Bennet says, “while Burkhorst is asleep.” He looks at Dr. McDaniels and frowns. “Are you going where I think you are?”
“I am,” Dr. McDaniels replies.
Dr. Bennet sighs and shakes his head. “You’re an incredible scientist, Valerie, but you are no longer in your prime. That climb will not be easy for a woman of your age.”
Dr. McDaniels’s face scrunches up in anger and she starts to reply, but stops and nods as she takes a couple of deep breaths.
“I know, I know,” Dr. McDaniels admits. “Clark can go.”
“I what?” Dr. Mannering exclaims. “Hold on now, Valerie. I agreed that Burkhorst was being short sighted in her normal dictatorial way, but I never said I’d go topside through those things to get a group of people that may or may not have answers we need. That was not part of our deal.”
“Go topside through what things?” Dr. Probst asks Dr. Mannering. “What are you afraid of?”
“Purge shafts,” Dr. McDaniels answers. “Intense, directed fire tunnels that can cleanse the entire topside bunker of all life.”
“Of all everything,” Dr. Mannering corrects. “Think of the bunker as a cremation chamber. The purge shafts send the flames in. Once done, all that the bunker will hold is ashes.”
“Forty-two hundred degrees Fahrenheit,” Dr. McDaniels says. “A person would be roasted down to their bones in less than a second.”
“The walls of the bunker can handle that kind of heat?” Dr. Probst asks. “I would think the structural integrity would be compromised. It would all collapse in on itself.”
“That would be the point,” Dr. McDaniels replies. “It’s a last resort, to say the least.”
“But how would this facility stay shielded?” Dr. Probst asks. “When the Twin Towers came down on 911, the temperatures were close to twenty-eight hundred degrees. That melted steel columns and brought them to the ground. Are you telling me that this facility can withstand almost twice that heat?”
“This facility can withstand temperatures comparable to the surface of the sun,” Dr. McDaniels admits.
“That’s...that’s not possible,” Dr. Probst responds. “That would be like ten thousand degrees Fahrenheit. Some materials may handle that heat in short doses, but there is no way that the entire structure could survive. Just no way.”
“There is a way, doctor,” Dr. McDaniels says, “or we wouldn’t be here. Right now the entire eastern sector of this facility is fighting back temperatures well above the surface of the sun. Granted, we have no idea how or why, but the materials exist to make this all possible.”
“I can’t even comprehend what you are telling me,” Dr. Probst says. “I have studied volcanos my entire adult life, so I know something about the effects of heat. There is nothing on Earth that can withstand those temperatures.”
“No, Dr. Probst, there is not,” Dr. McDaniels says. “And that is all I am going to say on that.”
Dr. Probst stumbles back a little, her eyes going from each Doctor, back and forth. She puts a hand to her forehead to check for fever, but feels nothing out of the ordinary. Dr. McDaniels steps forward and gently places a hand on her arm.
“There are more mysteries to this universe than we will ever know,” Dr. McDaniels says. “Don’t worry yourself over building materials. We have larger things to deal with.”
“No pun intended,” Dr. Mannering says.
“Clark? Shut up,” Dr. McDaniels says.
Dr. Probst smiles at Dr. McDaniels and pats her hand. “Fine. Fine. Show me the purge shafts. We need to get my friends before it is too late.”
“It may already be,” Dr. Bennet frowns. “Unless they have figured out a way to keep themselves isolated, the ammonia levels are already at lethal levels. I’m not saying you shouldn’t try, but I am saying you should be prepared for what you may find up there.”
“If this whole fucking nightmare has taught me one thing, Doctor,” Dr. Pr
obst replies, “it’s that I’m prepared for fucking anything.” She winces. “That didn’t come out right.”
“We get what you mean,” Dr. McDaniels says.
***
The shaft towers above Dr. Probst’s head, rise far, far into the darkness above.
“We have to climb this ladder?” Dr. Probst asks, pointing at the caged ladder to her right. “All the way up there?”
“Yeah,” Dr. Mannering says as he squats on the ground, busy checking and double checking two sets of air tanks and breathing masks. “Technically, it’s only four levels to get topside, but each level is quadruple the height of a normal story, plus there are buffer zones in between each level.”
“For containment,” Dr. Probst says.
“Precisely,” Dr. Mannering nods. He stands up and hands a set of tanks to Dr. Probst. “I assume you know how to use this? If you’ve been around volcanos then you’ve had to have…”
“I know how to use it,” Dr. Probst says as she takes the tanks, grunts from the weight, then awkwardly slips them onto her back, cinching the straps once they are settled on her shoulders. She lets the mask hang to the side.
“You should put that on. At least on your head,” Dr. Mannering says. “It’s going to be awkward to try to wrangle it while climbing.”
“I know,” Dr. Probst says as she settles the mask over her head and face. She tightens the straps so there is a secure fit, then eases the mask up until it rests on top of her head. “I said I know how to use this.”
“Right. Sorry,” Dr. Mannering says as he does the same with his gear. “Just trying to help.”
Dr. Probst studies him for a minute. “Why?”
“What?” Dr. Mannering asks. “Why what?”
“Why do you want to help?” Dr. Probst asks. “It can’t just be because my friends may have information that can help kill these monsters. So what’s the real reason?”
“Information is a good enough reason,” Dr. Mannering replies.
“No, it isn’t,” Dr. Probst says. “Why?”
Dr. Mannering pauses at the base of the ladder, his left hand gripping one of the rungs. He looks up into the infinite darkness and shakes his head.
