by James Axler
“Doc, look out!” Ryan aimed his blaster past the old man, who spun at the same time and adjusted a knob on the handle of the device, sending a five-foot burst of flame at the encroaching group of rats trying to ambush him. The searing fire drove them back, and Doc advanced into the group, wielding the pipe like a demented conductor, swinging it back and forth, singeing hair and mutie skin as he cleared a path through the pack surrounding them.
“Ryan, help me move the containers!” he snapped. “Everyone else stay close!”
Ryan kept his SIG-Sauer ready as he grabbed the handle sticking up above the pair of tanks. Upon a closer look, he saw that they were fastened to an upright, mobile cart, the rubber wheels jammed solid with fecal matter. Tipping the handle toward him, Ryan tried forcing them to move, but neither one budged an inch.
“Hold up, Doc!” Ryan tugged on the handle, breaking the cart loose from where it had stood for the past hundred years, and dragging it out before Doc could damage the hoses connecting the flaming wand to its fuel source. “Okay, stay close to the wall! Everyone, follow us!”
The muties snarled and shrieked their displeasure, but none were bold enough to risk the fire to attack the norm keeping them at bay. Guided by the wall on his left, Doc steadily drove through the crowd. Ryan was torn between keeping up with the old man and watching their back, but Krysty and Mildred seemed to be doing fine in that regard, the two women teaming up to protect their own flanks and guard each other. Pig-rats snapped and whined, but the occasional well-placed shot kept any rear force from becoming too organized or large.
Slowly, they forged deeper into the room, which Ryan was beginning to think had no end, but seemed to go on forever, with the group surrounded by darkness and muties, only held at bay by Doc’s improvised flamer. Always, the pig-rats probed their defenses, looking for a weak spot to swarm in for the kill. And time after time, wave after wave, Doc, Ryan and the others fended them off with fire and lead.
After what might have been the sixth or seventh assault, Doc, his narrow chest heaving like a bellows, pointed with the blazing torch. “Ryan, I see something ahead. It looks like a wall. It might be the way out!”
“Go! Go!”
Doc increased the spray on his torch, sending a stream of fire arcing out, scattering scorched muties out of his path. Ryan and the others increased their pace as well, pulses quickening as they realized they might be close to leaving this hellhole.
Then, as quickly as he had spoken, Doc stumbled to a stop, the torch drooping in his hand. “Holy mother of God…”
Ryan skidded to a halt beside him, the cart almost banging his shins before lurching to a stop. “Doc, what the hell, why you stopping now?”
In answer, the other man simply raised his arm and pointed.
At first, Ryan couldn’t make out what was ahead, but then they advanced into the light and his blaster rose instinctively, even though he knew it probably didn’t have a chance in hell of putting this new enemy down.
From around the wall lumbered huge, furry shapes, their front claws scraping through the muck, and their rear hooves clattering on the floor. Each of these muties, six in all, stood as tall as Ryan on their four legs. One of them yawned, exposing teeth as long as his hand, capped by a double pair of tusks the length of his forearm. Ryan knew that if they wanted, each one of these abominations could lunge forward and bite his head off, or disembowel him with one swipe of their three-inch claws.
Mildred, her eyes wide, was bringing up her blaster to target one of the huge beasts, but J.B. got his hand up first and managed to clamp his fingers around hers.
“No! No shooting, you hear?” he whispered.
“But we can take them out right now, before they kill us,” she hissed back.
“If they’d wanted us dead, we’d be on the floor, guts around our ankles,” Ryan said, his low voice carrying to everyone in the group. “No one makes a move until I do, got it?”
Mildred nodded. Ryan didn’t have to check the rest; he knew what the answer would be.
He did, however, steal a glance at Doc, who was staring as if entranced—but not at the six horse-sized mutants. “Is it not amazing, my dear Ryan? That life, in all of its blind and infinite wisdom, somehow finds a way to continue, to forge forward, despite all of our pathetic attempts to shape or control or destroy it?”
“Hey, Doc, right now that life you’re so all-fired moony over is about to swallow us whole, so why don’t we try to get by them as quick as possible? If I can get the shotgun, it might even—”
Doc shook his head, his gray-white hair flapping around his shoulders. “No, Ryan. Look closely at what lies ahead of us, and tell me if you think we have any chance of escaping this room alive.”
The old man’s words were spoken with perfect, chilling clarity, and the look on his face was anything but insane, if Ryan was any judge. He looked back at the huge pig-rats, none of which had made a move toward them yet.
None of them…Ryan glanced around to see that the rest of the pig-rats had also retreated to a safe distance, many of them sitting on their haunches and regarding the party, as if they were an audience, watching some sort of macabre play.
He peered closer at what he first thought was a wall, only to realize the torch light was playing tricks on his eyes. It had to have been, for the barrier curved away at the top, and was covered in thick, matted gray fur, liberally caked with shit. And even stranger, it pulsed in and out rhythmically, almost as if…
“Fireblast…” Ryan breathed as he realized exactly what was lying in front of them. At that exact same moment, the wall of flesh and fur undulated and rippled. From the top he saw a massive paw, longer than he was tall, tipped with curved, short-swordlike talons at the end, descend toward the floor. He stared in mingled revulsion and awe as the leviathan—for there was no better word for it—continued to turn over.
The queen of the mutie pig-rat horde was an appalling vision straight out of a nightmare, brought to breathing, quivering life. Easily twenty feet tall lying down, she had to be at least three times as long from her twitching nose to her huge, naked pink tail, a bloated rodent mountain at the center of her filthy empire. Completing her turn, which Ryan figured she didn’t do very often, brought a double row of her engorged teats into view. As he looked on in horrified fascination, a dozen mewling, blind, four-foot-long infants swarmed over her, seeking out the swollen glands, which oozed a thick, greenish-white liquid from their tips. The next generation eagerly suckled at her chest, climbing over each other in their eagerness to get at the life-giving fluid.
The face of the mother was just as large as the rest of her, with huge, black eyes swimming in a puffy face swollen with layers of fat. Her teeth were the hugest Ryan had ever seen, jutting from a mouth so cavernous that if she yawned, he figured he might be able to walk inside if he stooped a bit. She regarding them with a penetrating stare, however, appearing anything but a mindless rodent. Her gaze seemed particularly drawn to the flaming torch, hanging almost forgotten in Doc’s hand, and she twisted her head away, although her eyes never left the flickering flame.
That seemed important to Ryan, but damned if he knew exactly how at the moment. A straight-up fight was impossible—it would only result in their immediate deaths, even if he managed to get the shotgun off J.B. and firing. The torch itself was good on the smaller animals, but the huge rats would simply devour them before they could be burned to death. He didn’t doubt that a bite from those massive jaws could easily sever a limb.
“Ryan!” The urgent whisper made him glance back at Krysty, whose normally calm face was furrowed in concentration. “Be careful. Do not underestimate her. She knows…things. She—thinks like us….”
Krysty’s words scared Ryan even more, but at the same time, the glimmer of a plan was forming in the back of his consciousness. He just needed another moment to put it together….
One of the guards swung its head over to his leader, as if seeking permission for whatever he was about to d
o. The queen’s eyes flicked toward him, then back to the group, and the huge pig-rat started forward, saliva dripping from his jaws, his killing intent more than clear.
Chapter Eleven
The silent exchange gave Ryan an idea.
“Wait!” His command shattered the stillness, even checking the guard mutie, who stopped and cocked its head, regarding him in what Ryan could have sworn was puzzlement.
“Doc, you said these things were smart, right?”
“Verily, they exhibit intelligent behavior beyond any rodents I’ve ever seen. The queen structure is most fascinating, almost like a collective hive. It would also explain the simultaneous reaction of the first group we encountered.”
“Good, then they should understand what I’m doing. Give me the torch.” Ryan grabbed the weapon from the old man. “Stand back. If this works, we’re going to have to move fast. If not, everyone take as many of the fuckers down as you can before they get you.”
Moving slowly, Ryan held the welding torch up so all of his rapt audience saw it. He twisted the knob, releasing a spurt of blue-orange flame into the air, which got everyone’s attention. Two of the giant pig-rats hissed angrily at the sight, but a short bark from the queen silenced them.
Next, Ryan brought the pair of tanks forward so they were in plain view to everybody. Slowly pulling his blaster out, he carefully ejected the magazine, keeping them both in his hand as did so. Using his thumb, he flicked a bullet onto the ground, angling it with his toe so that it pointed at the nearest pile of shit.
“Everyone stand back.” Making sure the colony of muties was still watching, Ryan leaned over, keeping his eye on them as he did so, and carefully applied the flame to the casing, making sure the bullet still faced away from the group. Seconds passed, then a minute, then, with an explosive pop the cordite in the shell ignited, sending a burst of flame up as the lead corkscrewed into the dung heap.
Stepping back to the pair of fuel canisters, Ryan began bringing the blazing torch closer to them. The queen’s eyes went from the blackened casing to the four-foot-tall containers, and she suddenly screeched in alarm. The guards tensed to spring, but another howl from her froze them where they stood, poised to leap on the group.
Having reloaded his blaster while the muties were distracted by the bullet, Ryan’s weapon was back up in a flash, pointing at the queen’s head, which felt like threatening a mutie grizzly with a flyswatter. But the torch, coming ever nearer to the valves that regulated the flow of oxygen and fuel, was Ryan’s ace in the hole.
Now he just had to make sure the bluff he was running didn’t turn into a dead man’s hand.
Doc, as if noticing what Ryan was doing for the first time, said mildly, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, my dear man. The explosion would kill us all.”
“That’s what I’m counting on, Doc, and that she realizes it, too.”
Doc’s eyes widened in sudden comprehension. “My dear Ryan, you are one of the most low-down, conniving, sneakiest men I have ever had the privilege to meet.”
“Just trying to make sure we all don’t get our faces—or any other parts—chewed off. And don’t start slapping my back in congratulations just yet. If you haven’t noticed, we still aren’t out of here.” Ryan grabbed the handle of the tank cart. “All right, we’re going. Don’t make any moves unless they do first—then chill anyone who does.”
Holstering his blaster, Ryan started hauling the cart toward the rear end of the queen, keeping the torch near the fuel tanks and his head as far from her giant behind as possible. The huge pig-rat nearest to him growled low in its throat, its long, pink tail, as thick as Ryan’s thigh, whipping back and forth. For a moment, Ryan thought he’d have to draw and take the big bastard down, but a gigantic, hairy leg swept over and clouted the guard in the head, making him stagger away.
Ryan glanced up at the queen, who regarded him with cold, malice-filled eyes as she nodded slightly. Stepping around the stunned guard, he motioned the rest of the group forward with his head. Up close he saw the pups still gulping down the noxious fluid, which smelled even worse than it looked.
The queen shifted again, rolling back over with an effort. Ryan couldn’t blame her. In her place, he wouldn’t have trusted himself either. The procession was oddly silent, only the irritated squeaks of the young as they scrambled around again for the milk, the thick, sibilant breathing of the rats as they watched the humans leave and the hiss of the lit torch breaking the silence. Ryan felt more than heard the pack of medium pig-rats pacing them, flowing around the queen’s head to follow the group.
A sudden shot caught Ryan off guard, and he stumbled, catching himself before dropping either the torch or the tank. Before the echo died away, he heard something slither down a pile, and looked to his left to see a medium pig rat with a bloody hole where its right eye had been roll to a stop from the nearest pile of dung.
The guards had tensed again, ready to leap, but a shrill hiss from their queen stopped them.
Ryan looked back to see Mildred with her blaster still extended, pointing at the top of the nearest pile. “Saw it tensed to leap and took the shot.”
Ryan nodded, then turned back to the queen, his expression hard. “Doc, put your blaster up here, pointed right at the valves.”
“Ryan, I—”
“Do it right now.”
Doc hastened to comply, setting the heavy barrel of the LeMat so its muzzle was aimed squarely at the two valves on top.
“Cock the hammer.”
“Really, Ryan—”
“Cock it! I won’t say it another time.”
His thumb trembling only slightly, Doc hauled back the hammer until it caught on the sear. Ryan’s stony gaze pinned the queen, who had raised her large forepaws in the classic ‘I surrender’ pose, which would have been funny if his life and those of his companions weren’t on the line at that particular second.
“Glad to see you get my point.” Drawing back his foot, Ryan kicked the carcass of the dead pig-rat over to her. “Any more of this shit happens, and we all go up.” For emphasis, he brought the torch right up to the tanks, close enough for the flame to kiss the curved metal surface. Even the guards shifted uneasily at that, and the queen waved her front paws in unfeigned terror, chittering as she attempted to placate him.
“Ryan, I think I see the true wall a few yards distant,” Doc said.
“Well, then, let’s get the hell over to it.” Hauling the tank cart into motion again, Ryan forged ahead, straining his eye to see the end of the room. After a few more yards, he held the torch just high enough to see the real wall perhaps another five yards away, the flat, gray plane rising to the ceiling out of the piles of crap.
“Son of a bitch—where’s the bastard elevator?”
Doc pointed to their left along the wall. “We have to follow it to the other door and pray it isn’t also covered in feces.”
Ryan had taken a single step when a new noise caught his attention—the slight sputter of the torch. He looked at it in time to see the flame waver a bit before regaining its bright, steady flare.
“Hey, Doc?”
The old man was intently scanning the tops of the dung heaps. “Yes, Ryan?”
“The torch just sputtered on me.”
“Oh dear.” Doc glanced back just in time to see it happen again. “I suggest all of us redouble our efforts to find the elevator door before that tank runs out of fuel.”
“Everyone else, search the wall. I’m going to make sure our friends here don’t get any more bright ideas.” Ryan lugged the tanks and cart a few more yards, then set it up on its end, keeping the torch close to the tanks and, drawing his SIG-Sauer with his now free hand, turned to face his attentive audience.
The pig-rats had followed their every move, the medium-sized ones closest now, dozens of them arrayed in a gray-brown carpet that stretched out into the darkness. Interspersed among them were the half dozen giant muties, each one looking as if it wanted to bound over and rip Ryan
’s head off. And behind them was the bloated queen, still suckling her young as she stared at the group of humans with unblinking eyes.
Ryan kept the torch near the tanks, but the flame sputtered again, flickering once, then again before regaining its constant glow. One of the guard pig-rats edged forward, and Ryan swung his blaster to point at its head, which remained perfectly still when it saw the muzzle line up on its face.
“How we coming back there?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Doc, over here! I found it!” Mildred, with her sharp eyes, had spotted the floor markers of the elevator above the piles of crap. “Oh God! There’s shit all over the front.”
“Don’t just stand there like a stupe, clear it!” Ryan was trying to keep his eye on three of the huge pig-rats, who all seemed to be moving in perfect concert at him; one from the left, one from the right, and the largest one coming straight up the center. Ryan triggered a shot in front of the massive one’s foot, maiming a small pig-rat near it, but the horse-sized beast simply crushed the wounded one into the ground with its next step, leaving the remains to be fought over by his smaller comrades. Ryan raised his blaster, sighting down the barrel at the middle one, but held his fire, sensing that if he took this one out, the others would be feasting on his guts in the next two seconds, blazing torch or no blazing torch.
Setting down their burdens, Krysty and Mildred joined Doc in attacking the large pile of mutie shit blocking the elevator doors. With muttered curses, they shoveled double handfuls of it out of the way, flinging it aside until a pathway began to take shape.
“Don’t keep cleanin’—as soon as one of you can hit the door button, do it!”
As he said that, the torch sputtered again, spitting out several brief bursts of flame before the fuel flow continued. As one, the entire mass of muties surged forward, then stopped as the flame reasserted itself. Ryan threw a glare at the queen, but she seemed content to watch from her position behind the front lines, observing her soldiers advance on the group’s seemingly hopeless position.
