[Anthology] Killer Thrillers

by Nick Thacker

  “You saw them, Doctor,” she said to Dr. Pavan, “and you and I both know they weren’t normal individuals. They were a herd, traveling together, but they weren’t communicating. They weren’t hunting us. They were analyzing us.”

  “Analyzing us?” Nelson said.

  “Trying to figure out who we were. But I think the man coming toward us figured it out. He wasn’t too happy with us, and I’d bet he wanted to do something about it.”

  “Like scratch us to death?”

  “Like scratch us to death.”

  Carter was functioning properly now, standing erect in between the two other men. He eyed Jen curiously, his mind clearly racing through the strategic consequences. “Jen, do you think this can be proven?”

  “Not right now. At least not without more observation. But I do know that we’ve got no other leads. Nothing else to go on.”

  Dr. Pavan stepped toward Jen. “I agree. There’s not much else in the way of evidence to support an alternative theory. It might be in our best interest to assume, from here forward, that these…people…are predatory.”

  “Great,” Nelson said. “Now we’ve got a bunch of Russian mercenaries trying to shoot us and a group of genius serial killers chasing us through caves. Wonderful. Anything else you can think of that’ll make this trip even worse?”

  “Yeah. I still don’t even know what we’re doing here. What I’m supposed to be looking for,” Jen said.

  Nelson nodded. “You’re right. That did make it worse.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The more we explore, the more likely we’ll be able to piece this thing together. Let’s keep moving, get down to the lower levels, and see if there’s anything useful in the geothermal station down there,” Carter said.

  Jen liked Carter’s dogged determination; he was always willing to work with what they had, no matter how little they had. He was a man of few words, stoic and solid. He was a realist, another thing Jen appreciated. No hyperbole, no optimism or pessimism. Just straight-up truth, with an acknowledgement of their current situation at all times.

  “Hey,” Nelson said, “what happened to Bingham?”

  The question hung in the air a moment.

  Jen thought a moment, wondering about the last time she’d seen him. He wasn’t with them when they’d heard the screams from Lindsay, and they hadn’t seen him since.

  “I’ve been wondering that myself,” Dr. Pavan said. “I’d assumed he wandered off the night we found Lindsay. Didn’t think much of it, really.”

  “Same here,” Nelson said, “I just think it’s a little odd that we haven’t bumped into him again.”

  “What do you mean?” Carter asked, trying to get more from his team member.

  “Well, I mean, he just came out of nowhere the first time around, you know? He ran up to us out there in the field, and he basically hovered for the rest of the day. Weird guy, but he almost seemed to enjoy the company.”

  True, Jen thought. She was struck by a startling revelation. “I wonder if those people following us earlier really were scientists,” she said. “They were wearing lab coats, and a few fit the bill, but Bingham said he was the last of the twelve researchers down here.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Don’t you think Bingham’s mannerisms fit with theirs? Don’t you think they were acting strange, but in the same way Bingham was? What if the original twelve didn’t leave. What if Bingham is just one of them, and they’re all still here?”

  “Doing what, exactly?” Dr. Pavan asked. His voice sounded skeptical, but Jen could tell from the man’s look that he had considered this option as well.

  “Who knows? There’s obviously more questions than answers at this point, but let’s assume they are. Bingham and the others were left here, and that means something major happened. The second submarine didn’t leave with them after all, but it’s clearly no longer here.”

  Nelson’s eyebrows arched.

  “What if the submarine was destroyed, sabotaged, or even simply launched empty? Those scientists would have been stranded here for decades, completely isolated and alone.”

  “Yes,” Dr. Pavan conceded, “but that alone wouldn’t account for their odd behavior. If Bingham was completely alone, however, that indeed could account for the psychosis that we’ve experienced in him.”

  Jen knew he was right, but it helped to hear it confirmed. Bingham’s solitude here for decades made sense; twelve scientists and researchers living here—even detached from the outside world—suffering from those same symptoms made much less sense.

  “Okay, well, it seems like we’re back at square one,” Carter said, stepping forward. “We can’t figure this out here, so let’s keep moving.” He started walking, and Jen and the others followed closely behind.

  “On Level Four, we found a small communications room that seemed to point to the lower levels as housing the geothermal power station itself. Erik seemed to know what he was talking about with it, too, and he thinks there’s a little more to it than just providing power to this station.”

  “Let’s head to Level Nine: Rue Verte and work our way down. I think I remember seeing that one of them was labeled recreation, but all five of those lower levels are worth searching.”

  They rounded a bend in the cave system, and Jen thought about Carter’s statement. Was there something more to this base than what they’d been told? Who knew the answer to that question? She knew she was in over her head, but there was no going back. Her son’s—and now her husband’s—life depended on it.

  Jen still had no leads toward solving the mystery Nouvelle Terre wanted from her to decipher. She didn’t know why she was the one targeted by them or how she could possibly help anyone figure it out.

  30

  The walk seemed like an eternity. Jen could feel her calves aching; her feet had long ago become numb. They must have been as deep into the cave system as possible, and they still hadn’t come to a branch in the tunnel that would take them downward to the lower levels.

  She couldn’t imagine that this tunnel was a viable thoroughfare between the upper and lower levels. They’d passed stairs when they first entered Level Four; Jen assumed that must have been the main method of travel between the research station’s levels.

  She wondered if Carter was getting tired. He was still leading the way, his flashlight bouncing across the dark path as they descended. They hadn’t stopped for a break, but they were walking slowly enough that Jen thought a break might be the last thing on Carter’s mind. She’d tried to start a conversation with the man about ten minutes ago, but he was equally as quiet as he was determined to persevere through the cave.

  Nelson, on the other hand, wouldn’t shut up. The soldier had given Jen a complete rundown of his life: born outside of Glasgow, raised in London, and educated in Germany. He joined the British Royal Marines as soon as he was of age, and he’d served with Carter for the past five years.

  He had an annoying voice, sharp and unpolished, yet she couldn’t help but like him. He was honest, straightforward, and spoke his mind, and Jen appreciated having someone fill the time with. “Nelson,” she’d asked, “how did you get your nickname?”

  “Oh, you mean Hog, yeah?” he said. He took a deep breath. “No idea, actually. Couldn’t be my weight, obviously. They’ve been trying to fatten me up since basic, but nothing ever stuck. I guess it was the unit before. They—”

  “It’s his nose,” Carter interjected. “And it was Saunders. She started it.”

  “What? No it wasn’t,” Nelson said. “She never…what do you mean my nose?”

  Jen laughed. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a nice nose.”

  “I don’t get it. Is it odd? I ain’t the only one around with a queer nose…”

  They let him continue for a minute until he had worked himself up into a frenzy. He finally stopped talking, grunted, and walked on in silence, frowning.

  “Did you hear that?” Dr. Pavan whispered.

  Cart
er had stopped walking, and he nodded, still facing forward. Jen and the other two men caught up and they all paused, listening.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Jen said.

  “It was a voice, I swear,” Dr. Pavan said. “From that direction.”

  They listened another minute, but no one heard another sound. As Carter stepped forward, Dr. Pavan reached out and grabbed his arm. “Wait. Give me a second.”

  “What is it?” Carter asked.

  Dr. Pavan sniffed the air. “Do you smell that? I thought I caught a scent of something in the air.”

  Jen immediately noticed it as well when Dr. Pavan mentioned it. “I do,” she said. “It’s—it’s familiar, almost like…”

  “Almost like a big pile of sh—”

  “Enough, Nelson,” Carter said. “I do smell it. It’s feces. Seems far off, though, but we’re getting closer to it. Come on.”

  He started forward and raised his gun, involuntarily checking his ammunition as he walked. They picked up the pace, walking briskly toward the smell. It grew stronger with each passing step, until Jen found herself trying to breathe as little as possible.

  “Carter, what are we doing? That smell is awful, and it’s just getting worse. We’re walking right into it.”

  “We need to see what it is,” he said. “Plus, it’s the only way forward. I’ll get up around this next bend, and I want Nelson to cover me.”

  Nelson clicked something on his weapon and jogged to catch up to Carter. Jen and Dr. Pavan stayed a few steps behind, but their curiosity wouldn’t let either of them stop.

  Carter and Nelson reached the corner, and Carter stepped around. He pointed his flashlight down and slightly in front of his feet—an angle that would bounce the light upward enough to see, but hopefully not enough to cause any undue excitement on whatever lay ahead.

  Nelson followed his lead and did the same. “Bollocks,” he whispered under his breath as he took in the cavern in front of them.

  Jen and Dr. Pavan reached the open space a second later, and both of the scientists’ eyes went wide. “Oh my God,” Jen said.

  “You got that right.”

  In front of them was another large, open cavern, like the one they found Lindsay’s body in earlier. This cavern was smaller, but it was filled almost six feet high along one wall with what looked to be a brown wall of mud. Jen knew intuitively that the “mud” was the cause of the smell, and she only had to look a few feet to the right to find the reason for it.

  In the center of the cavern was an undulating mass of bodies—the white-coated scientists who’d followed them on the main level—clustered together and rocking gently back and forth. They didn’t appear to be doing anything but standing in a tight circle, pressing in on each other. It was as if they were a small colony of ants that had found a crumb. Their bodes pushed forward, vying for better positioning toward the center of the group.

  “This is disgusting,” Nelson said. Jen realized he was still focused on the six-foot-high wall of human excrement, and he hadn’t yet seen the other inhabitants of the room. When he did, he was speechless.

  “I don’t believe it,” Jen said. “It’s like they have a hive mentality. Look how they all move together, almost in unison.” She forced herself to keep her voice down, fearing a retaliation from the group. The last thing they needed was to run up through the cave system to the surface, chased by these weird scientists.

  “You’re right,” Dr. Pavan added. “They aren’t responding to the light—which, since they were in complete darkness before, is quite substantial—or to our voices.”

  “But we don’t want to wake any up, either,” Nelson said. “So I’ll go ahead and keep whispering.”

  Carter just stared.

  “Their brain function isn’t totally there, although they can clothe themselves and speak,” Dr. Pavan said. “I wonder if we’re observing the effects of relative isolation over an extended period of time.”

  “Not possible,” Jen said. “There are too many of them—enough for the environment’s constraints to disqualify isolation. Plus, they were of a mature age when the period began. Effects like this are seen in cases when the onset of isolation is at a very young age.”

  “We need to draw one away,” Nelson said.

  Carter appeared stunned. “Why? They’re hostile, remember?”

  “I know. But we found something on one of those Russian soldiers earlier. A beacon or something.”

  “A beacon? Where?”

  “Well, uh, it was in his head.”

  Carter looked at Jen. She nodded, and Nelson continued. “It was just under the skin, right on his right temple. I saw something there, and then felt something hard and round. I cut this out.” He handed Carter the miniature hockey puck he’d taken from the Russian soldier.

  Carter turned the device over in his hands, but didn’t speak.

  “We can’t just start shooting—the noise would be too much, for us and them. Plus, we don’t need to hurt them yet, either, before we figure out what’s going on.”

  Jen was surprised at Nelson’s intuition. She agreed, then offered a suggestion to Carter. “Maybe we can run across the side; try to get their attention. I’ll get to the other side and keep going through the caves. If they follow me, you can stay back and then grab one of the people lingering behind.”

  “And then how will you get them to stop following us?” Dr. Pavan asked.

  It was a legitimate question, but Jen was prepared for it. “We’ve got to be close to the split, right? We’ll take the one that descends down to the lower level. If they follow us through that as well, we’ll just get to the level and figure something out there.”

  It wasn’t perfect, but it was a plan. Carter seemed to agree. He nodded at Jen. “You heard her, Nelson. You three get along that wall—cover your mouths and noses; no need to breathe that, uh, crap—and then get out of the cavern quickly. If they’re not following you when you find the other side, give them some space and then make some noise. I’ll see if I can grab one of them, feel for that device on their temple, and then I’ll follow you down. Ready?”

  As soon as he asked the question, a low growl began to emanate from the cluster of scientists and station workers. The undulating stopped, and the entire group grew still.

  “I think they woke up,” Nelson said.

  Two of the members of the group peeled away and turned toward them. Both were wearing t-shirts stained from years of wear and dark blue chinos. Their shoes—work boots—spoke volumes. These men were, at least in another life, part of the maintenance crew of the research station, probably on an original assignment that was only supposed to last a year or two.

  One of the two workers looked straight at Jen, and spoke. “Why you? Where… where from?”

  He staggered forward, followed closely by the other worker. By now the others in the group had turned and were watching the exchange. Except for the two workmen, neither Carter’s group nor the group in the center of the cavern had moved.

  Jen thought for a moment. Should she respond? She found herself struggling internally between the instinct to flee, to protect herself, and the desire to engage these fellow humans. However distraught they were, they were still people.

  The curiosity in her won out. She stepped up next to Carter. “Wait,” she said. The two men stopped. Were they listening, or were they simply surprised to hear her voice? “Don’t walk forward. Can you tell me who you are?” She specifically addressed the man closest to her. She could also see him more clearly now—tall, dark, and handsome, except for the hollow eyes and lifeless, hanging face. His t-shirt said Led Zeppelin, either a favorite classic rock band of his or a favorite modern rock band, depending on when the man had been resigned to his fate here at the bottom of the sea.

  She asked again. “Who are you? Do you work here?”

  “Yes. Work. Yes work. Live.”

  It was an odd response, but it was familiar to them. Bingham, she thought. This is how Bingham talk
s.

  She knew at once that Bingham wasn’t telling the truth earlier. He may have been trying, but the scientists he mentioned hadn’t, in fact, left with the last submarine years ago. Those scientists, Bingham included, hadn’t gone anywhere.

  She was staring at them.

  The man looked around at the others, as if noticing Dr. Pavan, Nelson, and Carter for the first time. Jen also noticed that Carter was holding his gun up, pointed directly at the man. The man’s eyes stopped on the gun, and he frowned, his head cocked to the side.

  “You… hunter. You hunter. Hunter.”

  He mumbled the words, a small drop of saliva forming on the side of his mouth as he repeated the two words over and over again.

  Jen felt a pang of guilt. What happened here? Who did this to them? This reaction wasn’t natural. This behavior wasn’t caused by environmental factors.

  “No, no I’m not,” Carter said, his voice calm and steady. His gun didn’t waver, but he continued to explain to the man. “My name is Daniel Carter, and I’m a British Royal Marine. This is my team—Jen Adams, Dr. Sanjay Pavan, and Stuart Nelson. We are inside the base—”

  Carter’s last sentence was cut off by a loud scream. The cavern’s rock walls reverberated the noise endlessly through the chamber, causing Jen to hold her ears. The scream was echoed by the rest of the group, who had now all started walking slowly toward them. They screamed—a guttural, rabid noise—at Jen and the rest, not just in response to something Carter said. Except for the first scream, it was a simultaneous reaction; a deafening sound that physically vibrated the cave walls around them.

  The hair on Jen’s neck stood up. A terrifying helplessness overcame her, and she felt her lip quiver. Was this how it had ended for Lindsay?

  The two workmen froze in place, and their heads both turned to the side slowly. Their eyes didn’t leave Carter’s, and when their necks were bent almost at a right angle, they charged.

  Carter was prepared, and he fired off two rounds. The first hit the closest man in the shoulder, but the next one dropped him. The second man kept coming, picking up speed as he ran. Nelson fired over Carter’s shoulder, but the man lurched forward, and the bullet soared by his head.