Except for the fangs, of course.
Then Meredith looked closer. She spotted the radio wire sticking from its ear. The pants it wore were standard-issue Russian infantryman fatigues. It had a holstered pistol that looked freshly oiled. It wore no boots. Instead, its feet were covered in bony claws. But the flesh beneath the monster’s plates wasn’t the sickly pale gray of Skulls.
Meredith sniffed. “It doesn’t smell like a Skull.”
“You are right,” Andris said. “I smell no rotting flesh. No carrion meat.”
“What in the hell?” Meredith chinned her mic. “Alpha, this is Bravo. We just had a strange encounter.”
“Can’t be stranger than ours,” Dom said, sounding uncharacteristically disturbed.
“We ran into a Skull that looked and acted human,” Meredith said. She tried to find the right words to describe it. “It spoke Russian, and it’s wearing pants.”
“I can do you one better,” Dom said. “We found the missing Americans and a bunch of Moroccan prisoners. The FGL is turning people into Skull-like things but keeping their brains intact.”
“Holy shit,” Meredith said. “The FGL’s ‘Human Machine’ mission.”
“Looks like our intel was more right than we knew,” Dom said.
Andris looked at Meredith as he listened in. His mouth hung halfway open, his face wrought in horror. “This is most disgusting.”
More of the mysteries surrounding these facilities began to click into place in Meredith’s mind. “When we overheard them saying they were communicating with the Skulls, they really were talking to the Skulls. They’ve been using these hybrids as intermediaries.”
“You must be right,” Andris said. “That is what they wanted to use the Titans for, but these Hybrids, as you say, must be easier to control.”
“Meredith is always right,” Dom said. She hid a sly smile. “You two be careful. How long until the charges are set?”
“We were just about to—”
Another shape appeared in the doorway to the warehouse. Spikes jutted from the thing’s shoulders, and it too carried a rifle.
Another Hybrid, Meredith thought.
Andris didn’t hesitate. He raked the Hybrid with bullets from its groin to its face. The mutant soldier crumpled, and its rifle clattered on the cement floor. Voices erupted outside, and return fire chewed up the concrete at the doorway.
“Oh dear,” Andris said. “They have brought their friends.”
Meredith and Andris dove for cover behind a pallet of canned food. Rounds crashed into crates and drums. All manner of liquids and foodstuffs spilled across the floor.
The front door to the warehouse burst open. Soldiers flooded in, sprinting through the maze of stored goods. Meredith peered from her hiding spot. There was one other exit toward the rear of the warehouse. She and Andris hadn’t seen how many soldiers waited out there, if any. With bullets flying from the doorway nearest them and soldiers moving in fast in a pincer movement, she decided they had no other choice.
“Andris,” she whispered, “out the back.”
She ran as quietly as she could, half hunched to stay hidden behind a row of pallets piled high with textiles and rugs. A voice boomed from the pack of soldiers. He’d spotted her. The whizz of bullets cutting through the air rippled past her good ear. She didn’t dare look back. Andris sprinted ahead of her, focused on the doorway, their one route to escape.
“Alpha, we’re spotted,” Meredith said breathlessly. “Shipping warehouse, southwest corner.”
“Copy,” Dom said. “We’ll do what we can.”
She could hear the worry in his voice. “See you soon,” she said.
The door at the back of the warehouse clanged open before she and Andris could reach it. Three shapes leapt through it, clearing an entire row of pallets. They moved like Skulls but wielded weapons like humans. More Hybrids. Meredith tried firing on one, but he dodged easily and disappeared behind a stack of crates.
The Hybrids she had faced before had been taken by surprise. They hadn’t had a chance to show off their superhuman prowess.
“More Hybrids,” Meredith said over the comm link. “We’re outnumbered and outgunned.”
“Just hold on,” Dom said. “We’ll be there soon.”
Soon? Dom and the rest of Alpha were on the other side of the shipyard. Soon wouldn’t be soon enough.
A Hybrid pounced from behind a stack of oil drums. He fired at Meredith as he soared overhead. She dove and rolled across the floor. As soon as she recovered, she aimed at where she thought he would be, but the Hybrid was already gone.
Another Hybrid flew toward Andris. He ducked behind a crate and fired. Neither hit his target. But as the Hybrid jumped up, cursing at Andris in Russian, Meredith took aim and squeezed the trigger. Rounds punched into its side, and it collapsed.
The bastards might act like a cross between velociraptors and Cirque du Soleil acrobats, but they weren’t invulnerable.
The other two Hybrids ripped into a pallet full of grain sacks. Rice spilled around her, making it difficult to run, and she scrambled from her position to another with Andris providing cover fire.
The human soldiers’ voices were closing in, and more gunfire pinned them down.
Andris took out a grenade. “Fire in the hole.” He flung it toward the soldiers. An explosion rattled the warehouse. Agonized screams rent the air. Andris threw another grenade before the commotion died down.
Meredith searched for the two Hybrids. Where had the bastards gone? Her rifle roved over boxes and crates, sacks and drums. There were countless hiding places, and the Hybrids didn’t seem to be in a hurry to show themselves. Bullets slammed into the goods near her, splattering her fatigues with canned peaches. Andris fired haphazardly in a desperate attempt to keep the soldiers back, buying them as much time as he could.
Then Meredith spotted movement overhead.
The Hybrids were above them, crawling in the latticework near the ceiling. Meredith fired at the closest. Bullets riddled his flank, and his claws lost their grip. The Hybrid let out a human wail as he fell. His body hit the floor near Meredith. Bone plates fractured into shards like glass daggers. Meredith shielded her face as more gunfire chattered from above.
She adjusted her aim and fired at the other Hybrid. But he was already moving, answering every blast with bullets from its own gun.
A fresh salvo of rounds from the soldiers forced her to duck. As she did, she lost sight of the Hybrid.
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
By the time she spotted him, it was too late. The Hybrid jumped from the ceiling, falling straight toward her with claws outstretched and a disturbingly human grin of victory painted across his face.
-34-
Lauren leaned out the chopper as far as she dared, looking out over the island. A pair of fire engines was parked near the inferno. Neither was being used.
“Forecast calls for record heat waves,” Frank said from the cockpit. “Fortunately, I know of a nice boat with working A/C just off shore.”
“We’ve got to get down there,” Lauren said. “We can’t just let them all die.”
It was too late for some of the people already. Bodies were lying along the tarmac. She guessed they were the soldiers that had been manning the fire engines. They’d obviously been ravaged by a Skull attack. A few of the living ran between the injured, doing what little they could to help. One woman waved frantically at the helicopter.
“Where did they all go?” Peter said, still nervously holding the handgun he’d pulled off the dead soldier in the Humvee. Give the man a scalpel, and he looked as if he were king of the world, but a gun made him terrified. “The Skulls, where are they?”
Pops of gunfire burst near one of the transport planes.
“I’m going to hazard a guess that some of them are over there,” Frank said. His tone turned uncharacteristically serious. “Look, I know you want to help these people. But we gotta keep you two alive.”
L
auren knew he was right. Risking her life to save maybe a couple dozen soldiers wasn’t the logical thing to do. Her work was important to the survival of their entire species. In the grand scheme of things, what were their lives worth? Would they matter in the ongoing war against the Oni Agent?
She hated herself for even thinking like that. It went against all the reasons she had become a doctor. And it wasn’t just Ronaldo’s people down there. Sean was somewhere in that madness, too, and she’d be damned if she would abandon him like this.
“We have to stay,” Lauren said.
“Hey, if you had the Hunters with you, I’d be inclined to give in, but you two aren’t cowboys,” Frank said. “This place is hotter than Satan’s balls.”
“Sean’s down there,” Lauren said.
Without another word, Frank curled the chopper around the burning medical ward. He didn’t take them any lower, but he also didn’t make a beeline back to the ship.
“I’ll hail Sean again,” Frank said, “then I’ll reach out to Ronaldo. If I can raise someone, fine. If not, I gotta take you two lab rats back to the med bay where you belong.”
Frank tried Sean on his personal radio first. “Sean, buddy, you there?” Frank asked over the public comm link channel. “Your ride is here, and the meter’s running, buddy. Come on, pick up.”
There was nothing but silence.
“Maybe he left the radio somewhere,” Peter said. “He might not even know anything’s happening on the island.”
Lauren couldn’t say anything. Frank tried calling Sean again to no avail.
“Don’t know what to say, Doc,” Frank said, twisting the knob on his radio to a different channel. “Lajes Field HQ, Frank Battaglia. Requesting comms.”
Nothing.
“Lajes Field HQ, this is Frank Battaglia, flying the bird above your infirmary. I’m requesting comms with Colonel Ronaldo. Can you confirm receipt?”
Still nothing.
Lauren’s eyes flicked toward the base’s headquarters. Sparks lit up the dark field like fireflies in the night. Gunfire. Maybe everyone had simply been mobilized to defend the base.
But she knew that was too optimistic. Ronaldo’s people wouldn’t abandon their communications posts in a time like this.
Shards of glass exploded from one of the windows on the second floor of the building. A body flew out, followed by a Skull. The victim flailed until their spine slammed against grass and dirt. The Skull buried its face in the person’s stomach.
“That’s it,” Frank said. “I’m heading back.”
“But—”
“Doc, we’re going home,” Frank said, his words terse. “What the hell do you think Dom would say to me if I told him I let our only two doctors, the very scientists who might hold the key to humanity’s future, become nothing but value meals for a bunch of Skulls?”
Lauren fell silent. Frank was right. A suicidal rescue mission to find Sean wasn’t going to solve anything but the nagging guilt biting at the back of her mind. It was selfish. Dom needed her and Peter alive. The Hunters needed them. As egotistical as it sounded, the world might very well need them. Running after Sean like this was foolish.
And besides, who was she kidding? He was probably already dead.
The helicopter turned toward the Huntress and sped away.
“Once I drop you off,” Frank said, “I’ll circle back and see if I can help any survivors.”
Lauren nodded. “We’ll have the med bay ready for patients.”
Peter reached out and grabbed her hand. He hadn’t said a word, but she knew what he was thinking. You didn’t work a decade beside someone in as small a place as the Huntress’s med bay without getting to know someone well.
“He’ll be okay. He’s a fighter,” Peter said.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Lauren lied. She turned away and watched the fire recede into the distance. She wiped her wet eyes with the back of her hand.
Not long after that, Frank touched down hard on the Huntress’s helipad, and Lauren and Peter ducked under the rotors. They ran inside the ship, leaving the chaos of Lajes Field behind. The sterile air of the empty med bay greeted them. Lauren tried to compose herself, to let the stoic mask of professionalism push her emotions to some dark corner that she’d be forced to confront later. She’d done this so many times before as a doctor and scientist.
But right now, she found she couldn’t do it. The tears kept trickling down her cheeks. She prepped sedatives and antiseptics, patient beds and bandages, all in a haze of tears.
***
Andris traded fire with a soldier. A blossom of red bloomed from the man’s forehead, and his body crumpled behind a crate. Another soon took his place, shooting wildly.
There was no way he could hold them back, but he had to try. Meredith, at least, must survive. If she did not, it would be a race to see whether Dom or his own guilt would finish him off first.
That was when he heard the cry of the Hybrid. Andris twisted around. The half-man, half-Skull flung itself from the ceiling. Its claws were aimed straight for Meredith.
No! No! No!
Andris fired.
His shots went wide. Once again, he had failed a teammate when it mattered most.
“Meredith!” Andris cried, rushing toward her.
The Hybrid got there first. They disappeared behind a stack of crates. A spate of bullets slammed into the pallets next to him. Wood splinters shredded his face. He didn’t care. He kept running. He had to save Meredith.
He could no longer hear the rattle of automatic weapons or the voices yelling at him in Russian. His vision tunneled on the path ahead. All his senses were pointed forward. Something crashed into his side. He barely felt it, even though the impact knocked him sideways. Then another hit. Another. They rang through his dulled senses. His chest ached, and his pulse sounded like distant drums in his ears. His head slammed against the concrete.
Pain weaseled through his skull. His head had been saved by the helmet, but the fragile brain inside had been tossed about unmercifully.
More bullets lanced into the goods around him, and he felt something wet pool under him. Was it blood? Maybe it was cooking oil. Andris found he didn’t much care.
Snowflakes appeared in his vision as the world started to fade. A memory emerged from the fog. Faces, voices, distant at first but growing clearer. There he was. Back in Latvia. The first snow of winter. His father had thrown a snowball at him, and Andris had fallen backward into a snowbank. He had stared straight up into the gray sky as snowflakes drifted around him and tickled his face. None of them had gone hungry that day; his uncle had made the trek to go ice fishing and come home with a bountiful harvest of perch and pike, more than enough to fill all their bellies.
His mother had scolded his father for throwing the snowball too hard and knocking him down. Her father had said his son didn’t need coddling. Andris was a strong boy who would grow up to be a strong man. He could take a blow and stand back up.
And that was exactly what he did now.
A raw bolt of energy surged through Andris, as if his father’s spirit were there, helping him stand. Pain wracked his ribs, and his fatigues were sodden. He didn’t care.
Meredith needed help.
He ignored the bullets and the soldiers closing in. There was only Meredith and the Hybrid now. He rounded the crate where he’d seen them disappear. She was there—alive, for now. They’d both dropped their rifles and were engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle. Meredith’s fingers clutched the Hybrid’s wrists as she tried desperately to push him away. There were already rivulets of blood streaming over her face. The Hybrid chomped at her like a common Skull, but as he did, he laughed.
He actually fucking laughed.
Andris let go of his rifle. There was no good way to get a bead on the Hybrid. He was too entangled with Meredith. Instead, Andris threw himself at the Hybrid.
The unnatural creature turned toward this new threat, his eyes widened, taken by surprise. Togethe
r, they rolled across the floor, away from Meredith. Andris punched the Hybrid, catching him under his chin. The blow sent waves of pain up his knuckles, and the Hybrid’s teeth clacked together. He spat blood and a single serrated tooth onto the floor.
Andris saw only red. Heard only the grunts and angry curses of the Hybrid. But he felt no pain. He had saved Meredith. It had been close, but he had done it.
Another blow smashed Andris’s nose.
Broken for sure.
Blood wept down his face. He spat out crimson saliva. In his periphery, he saw movement. Multiple shapes. Definitely not just Meredith, then.
The Hybrid screamed in his face.
He yelled at Andris in Russian. Die!
Andris slammed a knee into the Hybrid’s groin, wondering if there was any manhood there to smash. The Hybrid seemed to think so, and he let out an angry yowl. Unfortunately for Andris, the pain only reinvigorated the Hybrid’s assault. He struggled to parry every blow, but his movements were slowing down. He felt like a bear cornered on the ice, hunters surrounding him and moving in for the kill.
The Russian Hybrid laughed as he pummeled Andris to death.
Desperate, Andris reached for his knife and wrapped his fingers around the hilt. He struck, burying it in the roof of the Hybrid’s mouth. Blood poured from the wound, and the Hybrid stopped laughing. His eyes rolled backward, and his arms grew slack.
Breathing hard, Andris pushed the bastard off his chest. He was covered in scratches and gouges fringed with curled flesh. He would need stitches. No doubt about it. No bullet wounds in his chest, however. Just holes in his fatigues where the rounds had slammed against his body armor. The liquid that had pooled under him had a sweet scent, completely unlike the ferrous odor of blood.
It smelled like...grape juice? Now Andris was the one laughing from the sheer absurdity of it all.
The Hybrid was dead. He was alive. And Meredith—
He turned to see how she was doing. She was standing now, and though she was bloody and disheveled, she didn’t seem to be badly injured.
But there was one problem.
She wasn’t alone.
The Tide: Dead Ashore (Tide Series Book 6) Page 27
