Fast

by Shane M Brown

  The things had attacked Second Unit in the eastern stairwell. In all the confusion, the creatures had gotten close while the Marines tried to identify exactly what was charging at them. They couldn’t shoot among the evacuees crowding the stairs. Half of Second Unit was dead before they escaped the stairwell.

  Only Harrison and Sullivan were still alive. Now they sprinted south along the pedestrian loop, trailing the final exodus of evacuees towards the evac tunnel.

  Harrison ran around the corner of the admin hub. Sullivan ran just steps behind him.

  ‘We made it,’ puffed Sullivan, pointing. The emergency containment door was still partially open.

  Harrison looked in the other direction, towards the planter boxes in the middle of the southern section of the loop. A group of four Marines were making a last desperate stand.

  He immediately recognized the giant figure of King. Then Forest, Marlin and Captain Coleman.

  It was Third Unit.

  Chapter 2

  The CMAR-17 fire around Coleman made a deafening roar.

  Their safe zone shrank as the creatures surged closer and closer.

  Suddenly two more assault rifles joined the battle. Glancing east towards the evac tunnel, Coleman recognized Corporal Harrison and Private Sullivan of Second Unit. The Marines must have spotted Third Unit’s desperate situation while racing for the descending door. Weapons up and firing three-round bursts, they recklessly advanced towards Coleman’s position.

  Eight creatures turned and charged the newcomers. The two Marines just kept on coming, advancing straight into the hostiles.

  Coleman couldn’t let them throw their lives away.

  He activated his radio. ‘Second Unit – stand down your advance and escort the civilians to the Evacuation Center! I repeat – stand down your advance and protect the civilians!’

  They hesitated. Coleman knew how they felt. Marines never left their own people. Behind them, the containment door reached just five feet from sealing.

  Harrison touched his headset.

  ‘We’ll cut you a path out,’ he radioed.

  Both Coleman and Harrison knew it was impossible. The only safe place in the Complex was on the other side of that massive containment door. Third Unit couldn’t reach the descending door in time. If Harrison and Sullivan didn’t retreat, they would miss their chance too.

  The door was just four feet from sealing.

  ‘Get out of here, Harrison!’ Coleman shouted into his headset. ‘You can’t help us.’

  Still firing, Harrison and Sullivan reluctantly backed towards the descending door. They fired until the very last second, then sprinted for the disappearing gap. Together they dropped and slid under the door just moments before it sealed shut.

  Third Unit was cut off.

  Coleman made a split-second decision. He hadn’t spotted David or Vanessa in the mayhem. With the Evacuation Center sealed up, no safe refuge existed this side of the containment door. If they weren’t already behind that door, they remained in terrible danger.

  If they’re still alive. Don’t! Don’t even start thinking like that. They’re alive, and you are going to find them and get them out of this mess.

  ‘We have to keep moving!’ yelled Marlin.

  Second Unit had drawn away half the creatures. Right now, the hostiles were fewest between Third Unit and the administration hub. The corridor from which the school children had earlier emerged was marked by three shallow stairs leading back into the hub.

  Anywhere is better than here.

  ‘Clear those stairs!’ Coleman bellowed.

  As one, Third Unit focused their fire towards the stairs. Only two creatures blocked their path.

  ‘Come on! Go-go-go!’ ordered Coleman as their attack opened a path through the creatures. ‘Run, run, go you lazy sons-of-bitches!’

  They could be running straight into more trouble, but they had no choice. Staying still meant death. He’d be no good to anyone then.

  Easily the fastest sprinter, Forest barely slowed to leap the three stairs down into the wide corridor. Marlin and King followed just steps behind him.

  Coleman jumped down last.

  The corridor appeared lined with offices. It ended at a large revolving door. Coleman recognized the location from the schematic map of the Complex. The area behind the door was the very center of the habitation level. The door consisted of four large reinforced glass panels rotating around a central pole. Wheels under each panel followed grooves in the floor and kept the door spinning smoothly.

  Forest crouched in a defensive position beside the door as Marlin and King bundled through.

  ‘Don’t stop,’ Coleman yelled when he saw Forest crouching beside the door. ‘Go through!’

  Coleman ploughed through the door behind Forest. As they spilled out the other side, he stopped and turned. For a second he judged the spin of the door.

  Drawing his combat dagger, he watched the charging creatures. His legs wanted to run, and every muscle in his body agreed, but if he timed this just right….

  Now.

  He thrust his combat dagger under the wheel at the exact moment the first creature slammed into the glass panel.

  The creature’s momentum jammed his dagger firmly under the wheel. The door juddered to a stop with half the creature stuck between the wall and the spinning door. Its body prevented the door from turning backwards, and Coleman’s wedged dagger stopped the door from letting the creature pass through.

  Three more creatures crashed into the door. The entire unit shuddered in its wall foundations.

  Coleman backed up a few steps, staring at the thrashing mess of tentacles sliding everywhere over the glass. It looked like a hundred octopus crammed in a fish tank.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ he whispered. The entire corridor behind the door filled with creatures.

  The trapped creature wrapped two limbs around the central pole. Firmly braced, it began wrenching its body through the gap. The reinforced glass panel bent outwards – cracks zigzagged all over its surface.

  ‘Marlin,’ Coleman ordered as he retreated to Third Unit. ‘Find us a way out now!’

  Marlin tugged down the velcro flap on his body armor to expose his maps.

  ‘Hurry…’ urged King, watching the creatures demolish the door.

  ‘Coming-coming-coming,’ repeated Marlin like a mantra, his eyes flicking over the lines and notes to find them an escape route.

  Coleman heard a clear radio signal.

  He recognized Corporal Erin Stevens’ almost frantic voice.

  ‘I repeat - this is Fifth Unit. We have sustained heavy casualties and are withdrawing west through the habitation level dormitories. If anyone’s out there we need your - ’

  They were on the same level. Several sustained bursts of assault rifle fire interrupted Stevens’ message. Fifth Unit were staging a defensive withdrawal west.

  Coleman knew they had to consolidate their forces immediately. Yanking down the flap on his body armor revealed his skirmish maps. Immediately between the two forces sat the pool room, an obvious point on the map that both units could find. It seemed the logical rendezvous point.

  ‘Marlin, can we reach the pool room from here?’

  Marlin’s face snapped up. ‘It works on my map, but we’ll have to make some shortcuts.’

  When Marlin said shortcuts he meant they would have to use explosive cutting charge. Coleman keyed his headset. ‘Fifth Unit, this is Captain Coleman. Head for the pool room, Stevens. We are en route to rendezvous with you there.’

  ‘Okay. Habitation level pool room,’ came the reply. ‘En route, Third Unit. Glad you’re still alive, Captain.’

  ‘Captain.’ Forest jerked his head towards the revolving door.

  Coleman spun around, ready to fire, but the door and the corridor beyond were completely empty. All the creatures had disappeared. One second they were there, cramming together, trying to smash through the door, and the next moment they were gone.

  The
ir sudden disappearance dumbfounded Coleman. He stared towards the nearly demolished door. His emotional roller coaster of adrenalin and fear hadn’t been ready for this.

  ‘Where did they all go?’ asked Marlin.

  ‘Who cares?’ King said. ‘They gave up. That’s good enough for me.’

  Coleman doubted it. The entire door looked almost torn from the wall.

  Wait, the door’s not empty. What’s that movement?

  He cautiously approached the creaking wreckage. At least a dozen brown butterflies fluttered inside the revolving door. Monarch butterflies. He recognized their wing patterns.

  ‘They were almost through,’ he said, thinking about the creatures as he watched the butterflies. ‘Why would they just stop?’

  #

  Three hundred meters away, Fifth Unit sprinted back through the dormitory corridors.

  Erin Stevens ran point. Behind Stevens came Goldsmith and Cheng.

  Only three of them escaped the north stairwell. Only their training kept them alive.

  Stevens tried not to think about the stairwell’s confined space. The last three minutes were almost indescribable. If he thought about it, he might vomit. He had to keep a clear head and stay focused on their one important task. After the confusion of the northern stairwell, focusing his mind on achieving one single task was a relief.

  They just had to reach the pool room.

  He knew their chances of survival greatly improved if they joined up with Third Unit. If he could be fighting beside any single person in the United States Armed Forces, it would be Captain Alex Coleman.

  Fifth Unit ran wildly, their boots pounding the floor.

  Stevens glanced over his shoulder. His heartbeat thumped in his ears. He tried to look everywhere at once. Goldsmith and Cheng were still behind him.

  He caught a warning look from Cheng. Cheng lifted his weapon.

  Stevens snapped his head around and saw six gunmen blocking the passageway.

  The gunmen were dressed in grey fatigues. Every inch of their clothing and equipment matched the walls. The only part not concealed was their eyes.

  Stevens read their intention in those eyes.

  He raised his hand. ‘No. Wait –’

  All six gunmen opened fire.

  Stevens was minced where he stood. Bullets tore through his body armor like cardboard. His flesh exploded outwards from every entry wound. Cheng and Goldsmith didn’t even fire a shot. Chunks of their flesh tore away as though bitten off by a giant invisible mouth. Cheng’s body twisted on the spot and thumped the wall. He slid down the wall and left a fat red stain.

  Goldsmith’s head disintegrated. His body dropped instantly. His helmet and headset radio slid along the floor towards the gunmen.

  #

  The lead gunman stopped the sliding helmet under his heavy grey boot.

  Pulling down his mask, Bora revealed a face that looked like its strong, eastern European features had been traced on a balloon, and then the balloon over-inflated so that everything seemed slightly out of proportion, but perfectly suited to his big hands, muscular arms and brutish physique.

  He lifted the helmet and shook out the remains of the Marine’s skull. After listening to the headset radio for a few seconds, he tossed the helmet back towards the dead Marines.

  Behind Bora stood a gunman with a rifle unlike any of the others. The weapon was longer than their FN P190 submachine guns. Its fat, tubular design had no obvious magazine. The gunman carried it with a lot more care.

  Bora spoke to the man with the strange rifle, pointing to the Marines’ mangled remains.

  ‘Did you get all that?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The man came forward and aimed the rifle one at a time at the dead bodies. Then he aimed at the pieces of flesh stuck to the walls.

  ‘Got it all now,’ reported the man. ‘Are these the bodies we’re using?’

  Bora nodded distractedly. He knelt to place his left palm on the floor. His eyes slowly unfocused. The gunmen froze. Bora reached out his right hand and splayed his fingertips against the wall. The gunmen could have been statues. They weren’t even breathing. Their eyes locked on Bora like he was a voodoo priest predicting their future.

  Which, in a way, he was.

  Bora snapped his fingers and stood up, triggering the gunmen to breathe again. ‘You know what to do with them. Go now. Exactly as I explained. We have about forty seconds.’

  Four gunmen rushed forward and gathered the Marines’ equipment. They dragged the bodies away by the heels.

  The articulate voice of Cameron Cairns came over Bora’s headset. By now Cairns should have complete control of the administration hub, and soon the entire Complex.

  ‘Bora,’ radioed Cairns. ‘The last Special Forces team is heading to the pool room. Make sure they never leave it.’

  ‘Yes, sir. We’re on our way.’

  #

  Cameron Cairns lowered his radio with a satisfied smirk.

  He stood in the communications room in the eastern wing of the admin hub. The comms-room measured the size of four of its surrounding offices joined together. Two parallel workstations crowded with comm-tech coordination hardware divided the room.

  This was his center of operations, secured because of the equipment it contained, chiefly of which, suspended from the ceiling, hung a six-meter-wide digital display screen.

  Connected to the screen and packed wall-to-wall in the surprisingly compact room was enough hardware to track every radio signal in the Complex. Whenever the Special Forces spoke into their radios, Cairns heard the message and saw their location appear as a red blip on the large screen. The screen also displayed their average speed and direction of travel.

  For the last eight minutes, he’d listened and tracked with growing satisfaction the radio messages from the Marines dying all over the Complex. It was a symphony of slaughter.

  It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

  In another time, in the basement of an abandoned textiles factory, a young Cameron Cairns had trained as an underground code catcher, listening for the ticks and clicks of the enemy’s radio messages. The work had seemed a waste of his talents at the time, but he had nonetheless applied himself to the task with the alacrity of a man who knew that life’s best investments were of the mind. The experience taught Cairns the value of intercepting radio communications.

  But Cairns had chosen this particular room for an additional reason.

  During an emergency evacuation, the control of all mechanical services in the Complex defaulted to this comms-room. Ordinarily, the last evacuating staff member would transfer all system controls to the Evacuation Center, but Cairns intervened in the process. Two dead bodies slumped over their workstations sported matching bullet wounds to the backs of their heads.

  With the comms-room secured, Cairns directed Francis Gould in the control of almost every system in the Complex. Sitting across the room, reluctantly working an arm’s length from one of the dead staff, Gould toiled right now in that process.

  Gould’s insipid presence irked Cairns. For the moment it was necessary. The only expert authority on the creatures, Gould had taken pains to ensure he remained indispensable, doling information grudgingly and insisting in personally overseeing the mechanical operations inside the Complex. He was a tight-lipped little runt, but when the time came, Cairns had been fantasizing about how he would dispose of Gould. He would start with heat….

  ‘I’ve activated the last pump station,’ reported Gould. Perhaps sensing the direction of Cairns’s thoughts, he shifted uncomfortably at his workstation. ‘I’m not sure this is a wise idea. It might not be enough time to get in and out. Maybe we should stagger the pumps. And we should have more men guarding this door. Two isn’t enough. You’ve seen what the creatures can do.’

  Cairns ignored the whiney runt and keyed his radio. ‘Bora, the diversions are operating, you are free to move at speed.’

  ‘Copy that,’ responded Bora a s
econd later.

  Now Cairns turned and locked his withering gaze on Gould.

  The little worm was a bundle of nervous ticks and involuntary habits. Even on the rare occasion when the scientist was completely still, he looked to be twitching on the inside.

  He’s pitiful.

  Cairns spoke quietly. ‘Two men like you wouldn’t be enough. Don’t judge my men by your own standard. If you do your job properly, we won’t need any men guarding this door. Let’s call it professional incentive.’

  Gould rolled his eyes and focused on his computer terminal.

  Resisting the strong urge to scalp Gould slowly with a ball-point pen, Cairns turned back to the overhead screen. Later. You’ll get what’s coming to you, Gould. I’m going to relish every second of it.

  Right now, Bora hunted the last Special Forces team. Unlike with Gould, Cairns had no doubts about Bora. Before his skills were noticed by the right people, Krisko ‘Bora’ Borivoj ranked a Lieutenant in the Czech Special Forces. It showed. In combat, Bora was as savage as a wild dog; at other times, however, from an observant comment or a half-hidden reaction, Cairns recognized a complex depth behind Bora’s brutish exterior. Most men at the top of their game kept a rein on their emotions, but Bora operated with an entirely different mental model. Animal instincts guided his decisions equally.

  Plus, Bora possessed other skills qualifying him for this operation.

  It all depended on what they found on level three.

  Cairns moved to a keyboard and raised the digital floor plan of level three. Even from this comms-room, the only available data constituted a schematic outline of the laboratory’s floor plan. The computerized mapping software offered no other information. In fact, no information could be purchased anywhere in the world about the security arrangements on level three.

  But Cairns knew that every system had a weak spot. No system was impenetrable.

  He keyed his radio again. ‘Basement team, the diversions are operating. Transfer your equipment to level three.’

  He allowed himself the luxury of a self-indulgent smile. With the Special Forces almost wiped-out, his preliminary work neared completion.