“Take off his gag,” Dr. Kerhausen said, donning his own mask. “He needs full breathing facilities—or it will kill him.” One of the assistants cut the gag from Stone’s mouth with a scalpel and it fell away. “Now you can scream all you want Mr. Stone,” Kerhausen said softly. “Down here—it is fine to scream. Your anger will oxygenate your blood, it will give you strength to survive.”
“Survive what?” Stone asked, “the mutilation of me and my dog?”
“Mutilation—oh no, something far above that. It’s true we shall cut off pieces of your dog—but only to reattach them to you. And take your pieces—and put them on the animal. It is really quite a daring undertaking.”
“Jesus God,” Stone muttered under his breath. “You and Hitler must have been great friends,” he snarled.
“Oh, we had our moments,” Kerhausen laughed from within his operating mask. “What I wouldn’t give to have his body here now. I know I could resurrect him, clone him somehow. Ah—but that is not to be. So I must settle for the first dog-man.”
“Now gather around,” Dr. Kerhausen said, cutting off Stone’s talking as his assistants all came in close around the table Stone was lying on. The doctor took a magic marker and began drawing along Stone’s shoulder all the way around, then at the top of both thighs. “We shall cut here,” he said. “I want to give him the dog’s legs—but keep one human arm. It will be interesting to see the advantages of having such a mixture. Quite interesting.”
While they drew their lines and circles and made sure everyone understood just what their function would be in the complex four-hour double back-and-forth transplant—with a second team working just on the dog. Stone managed to turn his head a few inches the other way to see what was on the far side. Kerhausen’s last experiment, the half man/half woman. It didn’t look like it was doing too good, with both breasts that had been sewn onto its chest rotting right off so that bone was exposed beneath. One of its arms was much smaller than the other, but that too was shriveling up, turning a deep purple and green color, giving off a foul odor. Stone felt himself shudder deep inside for he was about to become something like that—worse. And as he looked at the pain-wracked face, the eyes opened and caught Stone unprepared.
“Kill me,” the lips mouthed silently, though not a word came out. “Please kill me.” The mouth and lips of a woman had been transplanted as well, and not very well, so two small fleshy lines barely covered the teeth, giving the whole face a skeletal smile. Stone ripped his head away, unable to look at the pitiful creature. Never had he felt so alone, so desperate. If only he could have gone down fighting, shooting, punching, anything. He had expected to go out that way. And in a dark way had been prepared for it. But not this, not like this, oh please God not like this.
“Scalpel, nurse,” Dr. Kerhausen said, holding his gloved hand out.
CHAPTER
Twenty-two
STONE felt the scalpel just start to cut into his shoulder right along the dotted line when there was suddenly a thunderous roar at the far end of the medical level. All motion stopped in its tracks and Dr. Kerhausen held the scalpel just fractions of an inch above Stone’s flesh, listening as they were all dead silent. For just a second or two there was nothing and the good doctor dug the tip of the bade back into the flesh thinking it was some accident out in the freight elevator—someone else’s problem not his. Suddenly there was another roar and this time a flash of light and smoke just a few rooms down.
“Get the patients out of here,” Kerhausen screamed out, giving Stone a look of utter rage that his historic operation had been momentarily thwarted. The nurses and orderlies had just begun to disconnect Stone and the dog when there was the roar of engines and to Stone’s amazement a whole slew of motorcycles came riding right down the corridor from the next set of operating rooms. They came ahead like nothing could stop them, riding over tables, sending chairs and anyone who got in their flying. Suddenly he saw them clearly. It was the Ballbusters, the female biker gang who he had barely escaped from. What the hell were they… ?
But his musings didn’t have a chance to get any further as Raspberry Thorn ripped up a sawed-off SMG and sprayed the orderlies shooting out a full burst at chest level. The others on each side of her opened up as well as bodies went rocketing everywhere, cut apart like they had cut others apart, arms, ears, eyes flying off. More bikes screeched to a stop and more operating tables went flying, including a few corpses that the doctor had brought in.
“Jesus Christ,” Stone said as Raspberry got off her bike, letting it go on a few more feet, slamming into a wall of surgical gear which went exploding out onto the floor. “What the hell are you doing here?” Stone wasn’t sure they’d come to do him in or save him. But when Raspberry lifted her SMG and aimed at the small box that controlled the steel bands which held Stone in place and fired—he knew that his ass had just been plucked from some non-elective surgery that he would be just as happy to do without.
“I put a tracer on you,” she grinned as the lock mechanism burst into pieces. “We followed you all the way down here staying back about ten miles or so so no one—not even you—would know. We been battling these bastards for too long, decided it was time to make our move. Guess we came at the right time.”
“You can’t even begin to imagine how close,” Stone said with incredible relief as he sat up and rubbed his bleeding wrists.
“Free these other poor bastards,” the biker queen commanded her troops. Another six bikes came roaring in from another side of the room and continued past them, hunting down anything that moved.
“I thought you were after me,” Stone said as he jumped up and ripped off the uniform of a dead attendant lying on the floor and started dressing himself.
“I cooled the sisters down. Told them it was our chance to follow you in and take the bastards out. Totally and completely like you would burn out a hornet’s nest. In a way, Stone, you were the best thing that happened to my power struggle for control of the Ballbusters for years. And a good fuck too. Want to have a quick one?” she added slyly as she watched his flesh disappear behind a greenshirt jumpsuit.
Stone grinned with dumb embarrassment in spite of the carnage around them. He rushed over to Excaliber, who was just coming out himself, the gas that had been pumped into him already wearing off. Stone freed him and got the dog to its feet where it stood unsteadily. It didn’t look any worse for wear. The pit bull had the same magic marker strokes where Kerhausen had been about to make his cuts. Letting the animal get its sea legs, Stone rushed to the far table where the half man/half woman was struggling within its confines. Raspberry handed Stone her SMG and four clips, taking out another from behind her seat. Stone fired out the lock system on the woman/man and helped it to its feet.
“What the hell is that?” Raspberry asked with disgust at the rotting sewed-up sexual mutilation.
“Dr. Kerhausen has been cutting up people down here for years,” Stone said, having to turn his nose away from the stench of the rotting flesh on the person. Suddenly there was a rattling noise on the floor beneath one of the operating tables and Stone reached out and grabbed a bent-over figure trying to make a getaway.
“Doctor,” Stone said with a grim smile. “How fortunate I’ve found you.”
“Please,” the doctor said. “I’m extremely wealthy. I have gold and silver hidden all over the country. I can make you the richest man in America overnight. And you,” the doctor begged as he turned to the biker queen covered in leather and studs.
“This is the scum who did all this?” Raspberry asked, her face clouded with rage.
“This is him—Hitler’s personal physician. And the Dwarf’s as well. The man’s been around.”
“Not any longer,” she said, lifting her weapon.
“No, no,” Stone said sharply, putting his hand out and pushing the SMG away. He turned to the dying man/ woman. “He’s yours—can you—handle it?”
“Yesss, I cannnn,” the rotting mutilation hissed out t
hrough its woman’s lips that were too small for its mouth so that when it talked blood oozed from the cracked skin. “Leeave him wittthh meeee.”
“Will do,” Stone said softly as the six other biker women stood by silently. As tough and battle-hardened as they were none had ever seen anything like this. Stone and Raspberry grabbed hold of the squirming doctor and slammed him down onto one of the empty operating tables. They closed the metal wrist and ankle bands around him and then stood back as the man/woman thing lurched over to the table. Stone watched as the thing caught its breath and looked down into the terrified eyes of the doctor. And somewhere in that twisted, scarred, infected face something smiled and gave Stone and Raspberry a look of thanks. Then it reached for a scalpel lying along the edge of the table and dug in. And Kerhausen’s screams began.
Stone walked away from the table wanting to let him/her do its thing in private. The biker women mounted their bikes as those they had freed who could still walk or move at all lurched off towards the table where Kerhausen was being butchered.
“Thanks,” Stone said to Raspberry as he saw mixed looks of desire and hate on the other women’s faces. They didn’t all like the fact that they had saved him. But it hardly mattered now. He was alive. “What are your plans?”
“We’re going for their main weapons depot, which we have a map of—level 16. Also trying to free whatever women prisoners we can who are trapped in this place. We’ve got time bombs set for one hour from now. So be out of here by then, because this whole fucking place is going to go up like Mount Vesuvius, you hear me?”
“Hear you,” Stone echoed back, slamming a fresh clip into the 9mm autopistol. It felt damned good to be holding it in his hands. If nothing else at least he’d be able to go out fighting like he wanted, instead of on that table. He shuddered to even consider what almost happened. Suddenly, impulsively, not giving a shit what the other “girls” thought, Stone put his hands around Raspberry’s shoulders, pulled her face forward and planted a hard kiss on her lips. She didn’t seem to give a shit what the others thought either because she returned the gesture, and the two of them stood there in the middle of the carnage grappling for a good ten seconds. Then they parted.
“See you, Stone,” she said, jumping onto the top of her bike. And like that she started up and was gone, tearing down the corridor sending everything in her path shooting off against the walls. These women were out for coon today. Stone was glad he was on their side. He heard wrenching screams and glanced over to see the man/ woman cutting into a line it had drawn around the doctor’s pelvic area. Apparently he/she had some transplant ideas of its own.
CHAPTER
Twenty-three
STONE tore out of “surgery” with bloodlust in his eyes. He had been praying to have this opportunity from the moment he had been captured. The dog too was pissed off as hell, running alongside him, snarling up a storm. Bodies already lay all over the place as the Ballbus-ters left a trail of human and mechanical flotsam and jetsam in their wake. Sirens were starting to go off everywhere and as he rounded a turn in the corridor Stone was suddenly confronted by a whole slew of greenshirts with their SMGs at the ready. They didn’t hesitate but let loose with a barrage of fire as Stone dove to the floor. They didn’t see the dog, as their instantaneous reactions had been primed to human level. And the pit bull tore straight ahead, slamming into the leg of one teeth first so he and the dog went flying backwards.
Before the greenshirts could quite get themselves together Stone was unleashing his own migration of 9mm birds who flew into flesh. Three of them went back and down, the fourth trying to get a bead on Stone, who had run out of ammo and was slamming another clip into the pistol Raspberry had given him. The guard ripped his SMG around but before the command could go from brain to finger to pull the trigger he suddenly jerked forward, a spray of blood shooting up all around his head. As the SMG flew from his hands the guard was slammed down into the steel floor face first as Excaliber bit down with everything he had into the man’s neck. As they hit the floor the greenshirt’s head tipped over at an odd angle as the tendons and muscle along one whole side had been severed. The pit bull spat out the bloody garbage and turned to look at Stone eyes bright lungs heaving, ready for whatever.
“I owe you,” Stone shouted down the body-strewn corridor as he slammed the clip all the way in and it made a reassuring click. He jumped on his feet and grabbed one of the SMGs and another load of ammo, and then just ran as fast as his legs could pump, jumping over the bodies like an obstacle course. Stone prayed he would remember all the different levels and intricate pathways of the place that he had memorized from the dwarf woman’s map. He must have gone about five hundred yards down the steel corridor and then came to a junction of four halls heading out at right angles. N-1, that was what he wanted; he was sure of it. Stone saw the ghost of his father leering down from the fluorescent tube inset into the ceiling as if to say, don’t fuck up, asshole, the fate of the entire world could depend on what you do in the next few minutes.
As if Stone needed any more motivation. He knew what the score was. He heard a whole slew of voices and grabbed the dog, pulling him into a service closet and slamming the door closed. Several dozen booted footsteps came rushing. Stone waited ten seconds until he couldn’t hear boots anymore, and then opened the seamless steel door and tore back down the hall. He reached the elevator bank within another hundred yards or so, and debated for a moment whether or not to take the thing. But there was no time to fart around—he had to move fast. The light blinked above one of four elevator doors and Stone stood in front of it as the doors slid silently open.
There were three greenshirts inside, officers by the patches and shit on their chests and shoulders. But medals don’t do a hell of a lot of good in blood combat. They went for their sidearms, all still holstered at their side. But Stone was faster, much faster. He let loose with a scythe of slugs that cut right across the elevator at gut level. All three went flying backwards against the wall, their stomachs bleeding profusely from numerous holes. Stone jumped into the elevator as Excaliber hesitated outside, not liking the idea of being holed up with the bodies in such a tight space. But the sudden appearance of another squad of guards just around the bend drove the dog forward. It shot inside just as the doors slammed shut inches behind its tail. Stone could hear the sharp metallic sounds of scores of slugs slamming into the outer elevator door. But it didn’t matter, they were already going down—down to the deepest level of the NAUASC subterranean city—the Dwarf’s chambers.
After about five seconds of descent a bong sounded electronically and the doors slid open. Stone expected there would be guards outside and he came out firing, pulling the trigger and spraying in every direction before he even quite knew what was what. And it wasn’t a bad idea. Four men on each side of the doors had been waiting, waiting a second too long. Screams and blood filled the air as a few of them managed to get off their own return fire. Stone felt a sharp burning pain tear through his right shoulder and he ripped the SMG, taking out the shooter in a withering blast of fire right into the man’s face, which disintegrated into red mush. The greenshirt did a weird backflip right through the air before landing on top of his head, which cracked open on the hard metal floor.
Stone kept firing until the clip was done. He ripped it out, muzzle smoking and slammed in another, eyes darting back and forth wildly. But not a mouse was stirring.
“Come on, dog,” Stone hissed as he moved forward low. “Keep your teeth sharp.” But the dog didn’t need any advice in that direction as its jaws kept opening and closing instinctively, ready to sink into anything that moved. Stone tore down the main corridor, trying to visualize the map the dwarf woman had given him, doubtless now back with his clothes which had been scalpeled from him in Dr. Kerhau-sen’s medical room. He should have stopped and picked the damned thing up. That was stupid. But everything had been moving so fast. He sure as hell wasn’t strolling back now.
He came to the end of
the corridor and the thing split, one going right, one left. He stood for a moment trying to decide but Excaliber suddenly barked several times and headed toward the left, turning around as if to see what was taking Chow Boy so fucking long. Couldn’t he smell that the Dwarf was just ahead? Couldn’t he sense the foul odor of the ugly thing, the scent that oozed from its stumps?
“You know where you’re going, dog, so let’s go.” The animal started forward as if on a track meet, glad to see that the Chow Boy had at least a little common sense, if a fatal lack of smarts. Stone ran, hardly able to keep up with the panting beast, which seemed to know exactly where it was heading. The corridor was nearly two hundred feet long, and by the time they reached the metal door at the end they had picked up some pretty good speed. Excaliber was not one for knocking—or even using the handle—he flew into it with such force that the whole thing shook slightly. The animal fell back on its back dazed, its legs quivering in the air like an overturned turtle.
Stone knew a better way to get in. He reached out and slammed the seven digit code number into the keypad built in the steel door, the code that the dwarf woman had given him, she being the only one that the Dwarf trusted to clean his pad. A mistake he was about to pay for dearly. The door slid open just as the pitbull got groggily to its feet, wondering dimly if it had been such a good idea after all to charge into the steel door. Maybe next time—
Is This The End? Page 15
