The elevator came and they stepped inside. The ominous constriction in David’s stomach had worsened. He felt like a fly traveling into the spider’s web, a high-rise worker deliberately stepping off a girder into empty space. This was all so crazy. And yet he sensed every word was true.
They went down three levels until the car came to a stop. They stepped out into a narrow green corridor. The lights were almost significantly darker down here, and the atmosphere was most oppressive. David wondered if it was all just in his mind.
“Follow me. And remember: I do the talking.”
Several yards down the hall they came to another glass door with a security guard. The guard was an older man with a granite jaw, a mean-looking mouth, gray hair, lots of muscles and a nasty-looking gun secured inside a holster. David wouldn’t have wanted to grapple with the man in broad daylight.
“Hello, Mr. Bartley,” the guard said pleasantly. “Go right inside.” Although David felt the guard’s eyes boring into his back, he kept on walking. He expected to be stopped at any second, but nothing happened. Then he heard the door close and lock automatically behind him with a hydraulic wheeze, and the feeling of being trapped and oppressed was even worse, despite the initial sense of relief at having gotten this far without mishap.
The halls were wider and brighter, but somehow more sinister. There were no sounds, although David could see movement behind the glass windows in the doors they passed. Were those people really planning on committing wholesale murder tonight? Could they all be that callous? Or were only a select few aware of what was going to happen? Yes, that was it. Others might have suspected, but like Bartley—until now—they knew it was better to keep silent. They knew the Corporation would not hesitate to deal with them if they didn’t.
Bartley opened a door at the end of the hall and admitted David into a large laboratory full of long, green tables. Large metal equipment had been placed against the walls, and there were sinks and shelves full of vials and bottles. There was nothing of the “mad scientist” about it, however. Rather it had the even more chilling appearance of the ultra-cold, ultra-clinical modern lab. He saw a few people in white smocks situated around the room. Bartley ignored them as much as they did him. He must have been a familiar figure to all of them. He put his hand on the knob of a door to his left, which apparently led into an adjacent office. Before they could step through, a woman’s voice called out. “Anton isn’t here right now.”
She had startled them. “Then I’ll wait for him,” Bartley said, recovering nicely. “I have someone here he must meet.”
The woman smiled and turned back to her work.
Bartley closed the door behind them, then locked it. The room was small and cluttered. Magazines and piles of paper were everywhere, tumbling in different directions. The furniture consisted of a small wooden desk, and two large gray tables pushed up against the wall.
There were also several folding chairs in another corner, opened and laid out as if there had recently been a meeting. A large file cabinet stood directly behind them. Bartley was already poring through it. “Thank God he doesn’t lock this.”
“Do all those people know? Those people outside.”
“Most of them. Even if they don’t like it they know better than to say so. One of the research assistants disappeared without a trace last week.”
David digested that information, unpleasant as it was, and asked, “Is there anything I can do now to help?”
“Sit tight. I can only take some of these notes and documents with me. I’m not a scientist, I’m not sure which is most significant, but I’ll have to hope that I steal something of worth.”
“Where are the creatures kept?”
“Relax. They allowed them to burrow out of their containment and reach their own natural lair like before. They now reside in the caverns beneath and beside the old quarry. We built underground tunnels which lead there.’,’ The quarry! But David and Anna had just been out there the other day! He sat down hard on one of the open metal chairs. Bartley continued pulling out different file folders, shuffling through papers with his fingers. “I’m going to take the tunnels and try to destroy them from below. Meanwhile, I want you to get out of here and drive to Felicity Village. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes. I could even reach it on foot.”
“No. That wouldn’t be safe. The things are going to attack the village tonight. That is the first testing ground. So far some of the creatures have gone out on their own hunting food. Several deaths have already resulted. They’ve been covered up, of course. That includes the deaths of the Harper family, which you’ve probably heard about. Tonight the creatures are going to be deliberately directed to the clearing for the express purpose of testing their lethal tendencies.”
“What chance do the residents have against them? “
“Very little. These monsters are—wait a minute.” He studied one sheet more carefully. “This is it. The composition! The various animal chromosomes that were used in forming the chimera. God, it’s incredible!”
“You said you’ve never seen these things?”
“Not up close, no. No one but those working with them directly are ever allowed .. .”He continued reading. “Lord! What sort of monstrosities have they let loose on us! According to this, the creatures are comprised of—”
There was the sound of a key gliding into the lock. Suddenly the door was opened and a tall, slender man dashed into the room, slamming the door behind him. He turned to confront Bartley and David, his face twisted with rage. He quickly stepped toward Bartley and grabbed the paper out of his hand. “Give that to me!” He then turned to David. “Who are you and what are you doing here? “
“Anton. Anton, please—”
“Shut up, Ted. Why are you going through my files? I should never have trusted you. I should have known you would try to betray us. I had faith in you, Bartley, and you have destroyed that faith.” He moved towards the phone on his desk. “I’m going to call security.”
“No, you’re not.” Bartley had extracted a gun from his pocket. The man was full of surprises. He must have gotten it when- he’d changed his shirt back at the house. “I’ll kill you if I have to, Anton. So don’t make a move. Just sit down in your chair slowly, like a good boy. I warn you, I won’t think twice about putting a bullet in your brain. Tell me, Anton, is it true? About the hybrids? Their composition? Is it true? Tell me, God damn it!”
“Which hybrids are you referring to? The ones in Milbourne, or the ones out at the quarry? There is a difference. By the way, ‘hybrids’ is a misnomer of sorts, as they have more than two original parents. You might say our animals were created by combining one hybrid with another hybrid and so on. A slow process, but a rewarding one.”
Bartley was losing patience. “What is that ‘difference’ you mentioned?”
Anton smiled. “Why, many of the ones here in Hillsboro have a human component.”
“Human! My God!” , “Surprised? There is nothing unusual about combining human cells with those of other animals. It has often been done before. The results this time were most gratifying. We did it to add a unique psychological factor to our chimeras. They are supposed to be the ultimate killing machines. Their appearance induces extreme shock, which in turn retards defensive action against them until it’s much too late. But we added this other, human factor. Some of them have actually developed a kind of human head, with an actual face. And the most fascinating thing is where we got those human cells. For the past several years, even before Barrows took over Porter Pharmaceuticals, the Corporation has been collecting cells from virtually all of the inhabitants of this lovely little town, along with cells from many towns across the country, storing them for future use.”
“How?” Bartley asked. “And why, for God’s sake?”
“Simple. We contacted the country doctor here one day—as we also contacted doctors in similar towns— and made him a satisfying and lucrative offer. He had no idea what we plan
ned to use the cells for—neither did we, back then—which amounts to a variation of cloning. That is the ironic, delicious touch. The creatures that shall march out to eventually destroy this entire town, after our initial test tonight, will have the faces of the loved ones, both living and dead, of the very people they are slaughtering and consuming. Some will even have the faces of their victims. Isn’t it marvelous?”
David wanted to go somewhere to throw up again.
Bartley’s face had turned a stark white, but he showed no signs of cracking. “Why do you have to destroy the entire town? Won’t the village satisfy your bloodlust?” he pleaded.
“This is not bloodlust, but commercialization, Bartley. If all goes well tonight, we shall go ahead with our plans to fly in several representatives of firms, armies, even nations, who would like to have exclusive use of our chimeras. They shall see, from a safe vantage point, of course, how effective our hybrids are as they wipe out an entire town and all its population within the course of an evening. We shall start the bidding at, say, ten million. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The forces have already been set in motion.”
Bartley seemed to be stalling for time. “Tell me again how you propose to get the creatures to attack the village and then the town.”
“Simple.” Anton leaned back in his chair and smiled, only too happy to comply. “This afternoon the area surrounding Felicity Village was sprayed with a highly concentrated gaseous pheromone which will serve to attract the creatures unerringly. Tomorrow we will have a crop-dusting plane fly over the town itself with that same compound. Do you see how easy it will be?” He leaned forward and stared venomously into Bartley’s eyes. “Go ahead. Kill me. There’s nothing you can do to stop it!”
David had heard enough; he was close to going crazy from this horrible conversation and everything it meant. “Just what are these things? I want to know and I want to know now. I want to know what we’re up against.”
Before Bartley could reply, Anton spoke, his voice calm, his words almost soothing despite their repulsive content. “They are primarily a combination of vertebrate and invertebrate, as incredible as that may sound, a blending of different species who never could and never would mate with each other through normal sexual channels. The body is somewhat mammalian in nature; in some individuals more elongated than in others. It also has the peculiarities of certain insects which were also blended into the final product.”
“Insects? What insects?”
“Various types. Most predominantly, the earwig.”
“Earwig!” Bartley’s eyes widened with disgust. David could barely compose himself.
“I assure you,” Anton sneered. “The old wive’s tale about earwigs slipping into people’s ears while they’re sleeping is entirely unfounded. Besides,” he laughed, “our chimeras are capable of far worse things than that. The earwig is carnivorous and nocturnal, and can find all sorts of hiding places in the dark. It has a wonderful protuberance jutting from its stomach, which has been duplicated in our animals, except of course it is proportionately larger and protrudes from the tapered far end of the creature.”
“These things are big insects?” David asked, recoiling.
“No!” Anton thundered. “Not at all! Despite a hundred horror films to the contrary, outsized insects could never exist because their respiratory systems would not function at an increased size, among other reasons. Our chimeras are not insects. Nor are they mammals. They are not invertebrates. They are not vertebrates, either. They are like nothing that has ever existed before. That is why they are so special. Why people will pay such a high price for the privilege of owning them, of using them. They are a brand new life form, a new species made up of parts of old species.”
In spite of his revulsion, David could not help but find the man’s story fascinating. In another time, another place, he would have wanted to know how all this had been accomplished. Now, he had only one thing in his mind: “How can they be destroyed?”
“They can’t be.”
“You’re lying,” David countered. “Something destroyed them in Milbourne.”
Anton’s eyes shot over to Bartley, who was still holding the gun on him. “My, you do have a wagging little tongue, don’t you? You’ve told him everything.”
Bartley ignored him. Not daring to turn his gaze from Anton, he told David: “You must get out of here now. They saw you enter with me. As long as I prevent Anton from calling security, you can get out without any problem. Take my car. Smash through the gate if you have to, but get out! Go directly to Felicity Village and warm the people there. You must convince them to leave the area immediately. Tell them anything, make up any story. Just as long as you get them to leave!”
“What about you?”
“I have work to do. Trust me!”
David hesitated, wondering if he was taking the best course of action, but unsure of what alternative he had. He said goodbye, wished Bartley good luck, and stepped out into the lab.
“They’ll never listen to him,” Anton said, that disgusting chesire cat grin still plastered on his face. “He’s going to die. They’re all going to die!”
Bartley said nothing, his hatred of the man before him sustaining him as nothing in his life had ever sustained him, his need for revenge preventing him from falling to the floor with fear and fatigue. He knew that Anton was probably right. He could only hope he had enough inner fortitude to put his own plan into action.
Or else it would be too late for all of them.
Chapter Fifteen
It had all happened so quickly.
One moment the gun had been leveled at Frederick Anton’s head, while Ted used his free hand to shovel papers into the briefcase—incriminating, damaging papers that would give the authorities all the proof they needed to blow the whole nasty business wide open.
But first he wanted to kill Frederick Anton. For murdering his son and turning him into a monster. For helping to create the chimeras, even now slaughtering helpless innocents. For driving his wife beyond sanity. Yes, for all that Frederick Anton must die.
Anton had kept telling him that he was a fool, that he’d never leave the plant alive. He said Nurse Hamilton would mutilate his wife while she slept. Ted told him about the nurse’s death. “I was . . . very fond . . . of Nurse Hamilton,” Frederick said. “That’s something else I’ll get you for, Bartley.”
Bartley had only smiled, glad that he had hurt the man in some small way.
He had been planning to order Anton into the closet, hoping that if he placed the gun close to the man’s forehead, the sound would be muffled enough not to carry out into the lab. But he never got the chance. Two assistants suddenly walked into the office, and Anton—taking advantage of the diversion—jumped for the weapon, nearly wresting it out of Bartley’s hand. A shot rang out. The two assistants dove for cover, while Bartley and Anton grappled for the gun.
Possessed of a demoniacal courage, Bartley held onto the weapon, backed Anton into a corner, and shot him. It was only a glancing blow, but the sight of blood seeping out from his shoulder was enough to incapacitate Anton temporarily. Grabbing the briefcase, Bartley had left the office and the lab. He now knew what he had to do.
While the other two in the office rushed to Anton’s assistance, Bartley went out into the corridor and headed for the tunnel that led to the caverns beneath the quarry. He was too desperate now to stop for anyone. He saw the security guard standing in front of the steel door marked no admittance. He shot the man in the leg before he could reach for his gun. He had no wish to kill anyone if he could help it. No one except Anton. He prayed for a chance at a second shot.
Bartley opened the door while the guard writhed on the floor, blood pouring out of his wound and wetting the floor. Once inside, he slammed the door and locked it from within. As there was no other entrance, this would slow his pursuers down most effectively.
Inside, a circular tube had been carved out of the earth, receding far back into the
distance. Small light-bulbs hung bare every few feet from a metal rod along the rocky surface of the left wall. Bartley ran down the tunnel; the sound of the alarms ringing in the distance drove him on relentlessly. His feet padded over the earth, barely touching the ground.
Within minutes he had reached the end of the tunnel and another steel door. There was no guard here. He twisted the circular hatch and pushed it open, putting all of his back behind it, wishing he were younger and stronger. But he had had to send David to the village. David would not have known what to do down here.
David could not have killed Anton for him, either. That was a privilege Bartley wanted all for himself.
He was inside the cavern now, a huge hollow underground area similar to the one Harry London had discovered back in Milbourne. Bartley had been here only once before, when they had been doing some blasting to make the cavern wider than it had been naturally. There was a wooden shack a few feet away, nestled on the edge of the cliff. That was where they kept the dynamite that had been used in the blasting.
He looked over at the pool, a few yards away and several feet below the ledge he was on. There was a stone incline with a metal guardrail leading down to the pool. The beasts had gravitated here of their own accord, resting during the day—which is why no one swimming in the quarry had ever been attacked. They did not move, he had been told, during the daylight hours, except when they were extremely hungry. The bright lights which had been installed in the cavern helped to keep them docile. Although they were air-breathers, they could stay under water for long periods of time. The scientists had tried to keep everything as “natural” as possible. They had blasted away part of the wall only so that they would have more room to set up equipment. As the population of the hybrid inhabitants increased, they intended to blast even more.
Spawn of Hell Page 33
