by Greig Beck
THIRTY-FIVE
Alex struck the stone with his shoulder but it didn’t move. He placed both hands against its surface and strained. The granite block weighed many tons and resisted his herculean efforts. He examined it, wondering at its thickness and searching for points of weakness.
‘Boss.’ Sam had struggled back to his leader’s side. Abrasions covered one side of his face and his suit was torn to shreds, like Alex’s. He had recovered his ice gun from the jungle where the priest had thrown it.
‘We need a plan.’
‘I’ll get them out; don’t worry.’ Alex stepped back, preparing to charge at the block of stone again.
Sam repeated his words a little louder and grabbed hold of Alex’s arm. ‘Boss — we’ve got to have a plan. We just shot and stabbed at that thing and it still knocked us outta the park. It’s quicker and stronger than both of us.’
Alex didn’t answer; he just shook Sam’s hand off and threw himself at the granite. His body shuddered at the impact, but the stone remained in place. He stepped back, ready to continue hurling himself at the rock until he or it gave way. Aimee was trapped in there with that monster. He wouldn’t stop until he’d got her out.
* * *
Sam knew that look on his leader’s face; that single-minded focus: it meant logic was seeping away and the rage was taking over. He also knew that with Aimee sealed off behind that stone, Alex’s only priority was to be in there as well. Nothing else mattered. But if Alex did manage to gain entrance, the priest would have him right where he wanted him. It would be sure suicide.
His mind jumped back to the private briefing the HAWC commander, Jack Hammerson, had given him before they left on this mission. Sam had sat in stunned silence while the Hammer told him about Alex’s medical history, the treatment that had saved his life, and how uncontrollable rages were now threatening his control over his enhanced abilities. He had also explained what lay in wait for Alex if he was ever delivered back to the Medical Division.
Hammerson had a task for Sam: to make sure Alex didn’t fall. If he did, and was disabled or couldn’t be quickly revived, then he was to be terminated. The HAWC commander was determined the Arcadian would never see the inside of a military hospital again, anywhere, anytime. It had taken Hammerson all afternoon to convince Sam to be Alex Hunter’s executioner should the need arise, but the thought of Alex ending up as so many slices of tissue in a test tube had finally convinced him. They had agreed on one concession, however: if the Arcad ian’s full recovery was anticipated, and they could locate a safe place to conceal him, the termination would be deferred. They shook hands on it, both men knowing such a concession was potentially meaningless. In the twenty-first century, US surveillance technology meant there was no such thing as a safe place anymore.
This was exactly the type of situation Hammerson had explained to him, and Sam had feared, where the rage his leader suffered could push him beyond rationality and control. He would never be able to stop Alex physically, but he could at least try to persuade him to rethink actions that were plain suicidal — like the one he was attempting now.
‘Alex!’ Sam stepped in front of him.
Alex yelled in frustration, not even looking at him. ‘Move aside, soldier.’
Sam didn’t move; instead, he pushed hard into Alex’s chest. ‘What is the plan?’
‘To get her out!’ Alex roared, pushing back hard on Sam’s chest.
Sam’s entire 250-pound frame staggered back uncontrollably. He stepped forward again and grabbed Alex’s wrist.
‘What is the plan?’ he yelled into Alex’s face. ‘Arcadian — without a plan, she will die.’
Alex screamed and punched his free hand into the granite block beside Sam’s head. Sam felt stone chips strike the side of his face. Thank God the blow hadn’t been directed at his skull.
He yelled louder. ‘Arcadian — insertion, engagement, extraction. What is the plan?’
Alex blinked and shook his head, the words seeming to puncture the rage that had overtaken him. He rested his hand and forehead against the cool stone. Sam watched as the bones in his smashed hand slid around under the skin, lifting back into place. He recoiled slightly at his leader’s unnatural ability.
Alex stood straight and looked into Sam’s face. ‘She won’t die today.’
He seemed to have stepped back from the abyss of fury, but Sam could see his eyes still burned with an intensity that bordered on the insane.
He said quietly, ‘No, boss, she won’t die today. Now, what’s the plan?’
Alex’s eyes bored into Sam. ‘The plan? I’ll take González; you get Aimee and the boy out of there and head to the rendezvous point. If anything goes wrong, you will not wait for me. Clear?’
Sam looked at Alex for a long moment, then shrugged. That was probably as good as he was going to get right now. He rested his hand on his recovered sidearm. ‘All right, boss — let’s get ’em out of there.’
THIRTY-SIX
Aimee kept one arm around Saqueo and held the other over her lower face. The stench in the dark, airless space was almost a living thing.
González had thrown them roughly to the ground as soon as they stepped through the doorway, and then moved back to slide a huge granite block across the opening. She shivered, remembering the ease with which he had moved the stone. She only knew one other man that might have been capable of performing such a feat, and he was now locked on the other side of the rock.
When González had secured the doorway, he had also shut out the last faint traces of light; the darkness was now absolute. Aimee held her breath and willed her heartbeat to slow. González had not returned to them, and she guessed he was waiting for Alex to try to enter. She had no doubt that he could see them; from time to time, she felt a chill run across her neck and knew he was casting his gaze in her direction.
Aimee had no weapons, bar one — her intellect. Perhaps she could reason with him, negotiate. Or at least slow him down and buy Alex some time.
‘Padre?’ Her voice sounded tiny, like that of the little girl who used to cry when her hair was pulled by the boy next door over twenty-five years ago. She tried again. ‘Padre? Are you there?’
The reply was a roar — so close and so agonisingly loud that she found herself screaming in terror and pain. A charnel-house odour washed over her — the hot breath of some carnivorous beast. She tried hard not to retch.
Beside her, she felt Saqueo tremble, and he pressed his face into her side. Please hurry, Alex, she wished into the darkness.
* * *
When Alex heard the roar and Aimee’s muffled scream, his vision blurred with fury. His lips drew back and he bared his teeth.
Sam turned and said something, but Alex didn’t hear. Everything around him had disappeared the moment Aimee had cried out. Once more, he placed his hands against the stone and pushed. Nothing. He ground his teeth and strained, the muscles across his back and shoulders screaming from the exertion. The stone moved a half-inch, but when he adjusted his grip, it grated back into place.
He’s pushing back — he knows I can open it. The realisation gave Alex a surge of confidence. I can get in, and then I will destroy you! he silently screamed.
Unexpectedly, a voice answered him. Yes, come. And we will consume you, as we will every living thing in this world.
Cold washed through Alex’s mind and rocked him momentarily. He took his hands off the stone and stared hard at its grey surface. He frowned and pushed his mind out once again. What are you?
A sound that could have been a grating laugh preceded the deep voice that replied. What are we?Or what is the shell you see? But of course, unlike others of your kind, you perceive more, don’t you? We should ask, what are you, Alex Hunter, child of science? Are you a man, or simply a creation of man?
Alex was stunned. How could the creature know these things about him?
The harsh voice ground out once more. This shell, this being, was once like you: afflicted by mortality. It
believed in a god — something all powerful, all knowing and immortal. We are far older than your entire race, and have the power to consume your world. Are we not then those very gods?
We? That tiny word unsettled Alex more than anything else he had seen or heard. Are there more like you? he sent. Where are they?
The dry rasp came again. ‘More than you could count in a thousand lifetimes, Alex Hunter. The seed has waited patiently to rise up, and now it grows. It will be your extinction.
Alex frowned; Aimee had suggested that the bacteria that had devastated the men at the camp seemed to have been waiting for them to dig it up — waiting to rise up, the thing had said. Was the thing that used to be González somehow linked to the Hades Bug?
The idea reminded him of something he’d learned back in his earliest days in the Special Forces: they’d been warned not to build jungle shelters or bivouacs near certain types of trees as they were favoured by army ants. The thing Alex had found fascinating about the ants was the way they always sent out scouts, or advance guards, before invading a territory. The scouts were the heralds of a ravenous tide of destruction. Was the priest the herald of the Hades Bug’s army of cells? Or was he a product of them?
Suddenly, Alex thought the nuke was looking like a brilliant idea.
The voice leaked into his mind again, and he cleared his thoughts in case it was able to pick images from his brain.
We need all of you. Join me willingly; or flee now, before you become no more than a few scraps of new tissue on this rotting frame.
Alex closed his eyes, a smile forming at the corners of his lips. He had just learned two things: first, the creature had an ego and craved an audience; second, and more importantly, it didn’t want to confront him. For all its incredible strength, it had limitations; it knew fear.
He studied the edges of the slab; he wouldn’t be able to shift it while another force, one possibly stronger than he was, pushed back from the other side. He needed more leverage.
He lifted his hands from the stone. I’m coming in … to talk further.
There was a pause. Like the lamb may talk with the lion … Come, then.
Alex guessed the creature knew what he planned, but if it bought him one extra second, then good. He wedged his fingers into the small space where the hewn block didn’t quite sit flush with the stone doorframe, and heaved. There was a begrudging movement of the stone.
‘Sam. Shoulder to it,’ Alex ordered.
Sam’s contribution would only give him an extra few hundred pounds of thrust, but it should be enough to gain the advantage he needed. Alex thought again of Aimee’s scream, and heaved. Six inches of dark space opened up. Now he could set both hands to work. He sucked in a deep breath and ground his teeth together as he moved his arms apart — like Samson between the two pillars of the Philistine temple. Slowly, the massive stone block, and the creature holding it, gave way to the greater force.
‘Alex!’ came Aimee’s cry from within the darkened space.
The gap was little more than a foot wide but it was enough. Before Sam could stop him, Alex leapt through.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Even with the small gap open to the night, the inside of the stone room was impossibly black. Alex, with his enhanced vision, could make out the warm body glow of Aimee and Saqueo. She stood, her back to a wall, facing out into the darkness. Saqueo was cowering behind her, his face pressed into her back.
Close to her, there was a colder image; as still as a pillar of stone, and even darker than the surrounding blackness. Alex knew the priest could easily see him — clearly, the darkness was his preferred element. A smile parted a mouth that was far too wide for a human face.
Alex held out one arm and feigned a slight stumble, not wanting the priest to realise he also had excellent vision in darkness.
González reached up to stroke Aimee’s face, evidently wanting her to scream to draw Alex towards him. Aimee flinched but didn’t make a noise.
Alex needed the creature to move away from her so he could use his ice gun; at this close range, and with a double stream, the creature would be cut in half in a matter of seconds. He continued to play his part, moving to the left and holding one hand up to the wall, his other arm out in front, like a blind man who had lost his cane.
González smiled again, perhaps confident that he alone could see in the darkness. He moved around behind Alex, silent as he came up from behind. Alex could almost feel the wide smile looming towards him, revelling in the trap it thought it was about to spring.
Just a little closer, he thought.
* * *
Sam had given up trying to widen the gap between stone and doorframe. Instead, he removed some of his equipment to slim down his frame; if the stone wouldn’t give for him, he’d give for the stone. He pulled a battered silver cigarette lighter from his pocket and looked briefly at the bald eagle engraved on its side. Long time between cigars, he thought, then sucked in his breath, flattened his body and started squeezing through the gap.
* * *
Alex kept his senses open to the priest’s presence, while keeping his back turned to his approach. In a few more paces he would have moved to a position farthest from the door … and the priest would be closest to it — dangerous for Alex, and giving the priest access to the only exit. But it meant González was farthest from Aimee and Saqueo, and a clear target.
Keep coming, just keep coming, Alex prayed.
Then he saw Sam was forcing his way into the dark room — almost right in front of the priest. Alex wouldn’t be able to use his guns. No! Not yet, he silently screamed.
González stopped and waited.
Sam’s head and shoulders came through the gap; there was a click and a small orange flame sparked into life. The game was up: no more hiding; no more pretending in the dark.
González’s roar reverberated around the room and he turned towards Sam.
Alex charged — his own roar of anger barely audible above the priest’s unearthly howl.
* * *
In the flickering orange glow of the tiny flame, Sam saw a vision that made him gasp and throw his arm up. Just as he was about to fire, González changed course to meet Alex’s attack.
Sam yelled his frustration and tried to force more of his body through the narrow gap. In the weak light, he saw González and Alex crash together, the expression on his leader’s face matching the ferocity of his enemy. The impact in the small room was thunderous, and dust rained down around them. The flickering shadows from the lighter flame gave the battle the quality of an old Lumière stop-motion film.
Sam grinned humourlessly. This time, González wasn’t just dealing with the weak flesh of a man. The priest would find this world had its own monsters.
* * *
González flew at Alex, his black robes flapping like a pair of large, dark wings. His mouth hung open in anticipation of sinking those dozens of rows of teeth into Alex’s flesh.
Alex met the thing mid-flight, the impact loud in the small room. This wasn’t a human he faced and he didn’t pull any blows. His first strike was into the priest’s face, and he was satisfied with the resulting crack of bone and the indentation in the side of his skull.
The blow should have killed González instantly, but he wasn’t even slowed.
Alex briefly caught sight of Aimee, who was screaming something to him as she edged towards the door. Good, they’ll be safe now, he thought, and then the priest was on him again. In only a few seconds, Alex’s face was a battered and bloody mask. A blow in his midsection felt as though it had come from a steel battering ram.
He swung his arm once more, putting all his strength into the punch. Instead of connecting with the dead flesh, he found only air. The creature moved faster than Alex could strike. He spun, preparing to launch a volley of ice spikes at the darting form, but it was now a mere shadow within shadows.
The next attack was the priest’s — the side of Alex’s head exploded with pain, and he went down. Blo
odied pieces of his shattered communication pellet fell from his ear.
He heard Aimee scream, and saw Sam leap over his fallen form with his sidearm in his hand. Bullets thwacked into the priest, every one hitting its target, but his flesh absorbed them without any sign of the impact.
Sam’s full clip had emptied. He raised the empty gun over his head and swung his arm down hard. It never found its intended target. González spun and swatted Sam down like he was an annoying insect. Then he bent, grabbed the HAWC’s large body and raised it above his head in two hands. A yell of excruciating pain escaped Sam’s lips as González brought his hands together and snapped his back with a crack like a rifle report.
González launched the HAWC’s loose frame at the stone block in front of the door. Sam was a big man, and his body struck the rock with such force that the mighty block ground almost closed. Even in his dazed state, Alex knew his friend was either dead or crippled, and they were all trapped.
González stood unnaturally still in the centre of the room, smiling again. Behind him, Aimee and Saqueo stood blindly in the darkness.
Alex felt like he was at the bottom of a deep pit where sounds and images were indistinct. Voices began to scream at him, cutting through the fog, furious vapours that swirled round him. It wasn’t Aimee; she and the boy were mute with terror. He grunted with pain as the voices increased in volume and ferocity, abusing him for his weakness, his cowardice, his dishonour. His second-in-command had been crushed before his eyes; the woman he loved was frightened and vulnerable in the darkness; and all he could do was grovel in the dirt.
Get up, the voices roared at him.
Alex punched his fist into the ground, and shook his head to clear it — of the voices and the fog of concussion.
Aimee and Saqueo were too close to the priest to use his gauntlets, so he pulled both his short- and long-bladed Ka-Bars from their sheaths. He shook his head again, this time to clear blood from his eyes, sucked in a deep breath and got to his feet. Summoning his last reserves of strength, he launched himself at González.
