The clatter of Skulls quieted, separated from them by the extra floors.
“Frank, you got eyes on the hospital yet?” Dom called over the comm link.
“Affirmative,” the pilot replied. “They’re over the place like flies on shit. They’re riled up, but they look pretty directionless.”
“Roger,” Dom said. When they reached the next landing, he signaled for his team to go back into the halls. They ran toward the next laboratory on their list. “We’re going to scrape these last sites. I don’t want to miss anything, but tell me if it looks like we should be busting out early.”
“You got it, Captain,” Frank said.
Pushing open the door, Miguel charged into the lab. The others followed in and quietly scoured the thawed freezer for samples. Glenn set up sat links on the computers.
“Alpha,” Chao said, his voice more hesitant than usual. “We’ve got some new information for you.”
“Ready and waiting, Huntress,” Dom said.
“The survivors you sent back claim to have a son lost somewhere in the hospital. They think he went off to find them food. He might be in the cafeteria.”
“Shit,” Dom muttered. He imagined the boy hiding somewhere, crouched and frightened. Worse, he imagined what would happen if the boy made it back to his parents with food and found them gone. He couldn’t let that happen. “All right, as soon as we’re done here, we’re going to the cafeteria. We’ll search for as long as is safe. What’s the boy’s name?”
“Connor,” Chao replied.
The team finished placing vials and other small plastic containers into their collection containers. Glenn unplugged the sat links from the computers when their screens reported one hundred percent data transmission.
“Be careful,” Chao said. “Navid mentioned that the cafeteria was filled with Skulls.”
“Appreciate the info,” Dom replied on their way out of the lab.
Well-practiced by now, they set up the data links and collected samples from the last two labs. A nagging voice in Dom’s head told him to skip the lab collection altogether and go save the boy. But while he wanted to save the child, he also had a mission to find research that might save the world. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief when they finished their scavenging.
They rushed out of the last lab. The halls on these lower levels were still eerily quiet. The muffled cries of the Skulls continued outside, but they came across no more than the occasional one or two loners roaming the corridors. Dom used the smartwatch to guide them to the ground floor. There, he motioned for the group to slow. A plastic sign above a set of double doors announced Cafeteria. Dark stains marred the letters, and the fogged glass windows in the door were covered by dried blood.
Frank’s voice crackled over the comm link. “Alpha, major breach on the top floor. Skulls are flooding in.”
“Copy,” Dom replied. “Hunters, let’s make this quick.”
They burst through the doors to the cafeteria. Tables lay askew, several flipped over, others sitting sideways. Chairs were scattered between the tables along with spilled garbage cans. Rotten food and dishes covered the floor. Among the refuse, several dozen Skulls meandered, lethargic and slow.
“Open fire!” Dom caught the closest Skull in his sights—a monster with a twisted, broken leg, barely able to stand. He squeezed the trigger. The rifle kicked against his shoulder, and the Skull crumpled.
The other Hunters launched their attacks. Suppressed gunfire burst out, and muzzle flashes punctuated the darkness. The Skulls, now energized by the sight of fresh meat, clambered over the tables and chairs. Bullets ripped into their flesh and cracked against their armor. Their howls intensified, but the Hunters did not relent. Skull after Skull fell. Spent shells clinked against the tiled floor and rolled away. Dom signaled the Hunters forward to finish off the last few monsters. The creatures didn’t stand a chance. They fell and bled out with the rest of their brethren.
“Search the room for any hiding spots!” Dom kicked aside a plastic garbage bag in front of a door to the kitchens. Its contents spilled as it tumbled away. “Connor!”
The other Hunters echoed the name. There was no response.
“Alpha, I can see movement on the third and fourth floor,” Frank said over the comm link. “Skulls are making their way down.”
“Miguel, on me!” Dom called. The Hunter rushed over. “Let’s clear the kitchens.”
Dom burst through the door with Miguel slipping in behind him. The scent of spoiled milk and decaying fruits washed over Dom, followed by a demonic wail. Dom swiveled and played his gun barrel across the stainless steel countertops covered in discarded boxes and open cans of food. A Skull wearing the once-white uniform of a line cook scrambled over an island and knocked aside a rotting, almost unrecognizable hunk of meat. It lunged with its claws splayed and mouth open, revealing a set of jagged teeth.
Dom squeezed the trigger, sending three rounds into the creature’s body. He juked to his right, and the bleeding monster crashed into a shelf full of dishware and cookware. Clanging, the dishes, pans, and pots tumbled over the Skull. Dom aimed the rifle at the creature again, but it didn’t move.
“Clear,” Dom said, lowering his weapon.
“Guy must’ve been a lousy cook, huh, Chief?” Miguel said in a low voice. “Smells like fried shit pancakes in here.”
“Not going to ask how you know that.” Dom nodded toward the walk-in cooler near the back. “Let’s check it out.”
They prowled toward the thick steel door. Dom rapped on it with his knuckles. “Connor? You in there? We’re here to rescue you.” He heard shuffling—footsteps, maybe. “Connor?”
There was a muffled grunt from behind the door.
“You hear that?” Dom asked.
Miguel nodded, leaning close to the door. “Doesn’t sound like one of ‘em, does it?”
Dom pressed the stock of his SCAR-H to his shoulder and exhaled. “We need to check it out.”
Miguel wrapped his fingers around the door handle. Dom held up three fingers and counted down. The door tore open, and Dom directed the rifle into the cooler. Before he could squeeze the trigger, something jumped out. It knocked his weapon from his hands, and he grabbed the thing’s wrists. The creature flailed as Dom struggled to keep it from biting into his flesh. But he quickly realized a snapping bite was the least of his worries. The creature’s lower jaw was missing, and there were uneven holes in its throat. Dark liquid dripped from them. A drop landed on Dom’s face. His skin burned as if someone had pressed a lit cigarette to his cheek.
Miguel jabbed his prosthetic forward and twisted it. The concealed blade slid out and pierced the creature’s eye socket. The orb burst, and the creature reeled back. Another gurgling moan escaped its mouth. Miguel aimed his rifle.
“No, Miguel! Move!” Dom yelled.
Miguel dodged to his left just in time. The Skull leaned forward, and more hot liquid spewed from its mouth where the Hunter had been a moment ago. The spray hit the cardboard boxes on the countertop. The boxes sizzled and dissolved.
Dom took a step back, recovered his rifle, and aimed it at the Skull. He let loose a burst into the creature’s body. The monster fell backward, its limbs twitching, and more dark-brown liquid poured from the fresh wounds in its abdomen. A puddle formed under the corpse, spreading toward the thawed plastic bags of spoiled meat and boxes of expired food. Plastic, paper, and cardboard disintegrated when the liquid touched it.
“The fuck is that?” Miguel asked.
“Don’t have a goddamn clue.” Dom wiped the spot on his cheek, still burning, with the back of his gloved hand. He splashed a little water on it from his bottle. The water helped, but only a little. “Hurts like hell, though.”
“That Skull’s unlike any we’ve ever seen. Lauren’s going to want a sample.”
“Yes, she is. Grab some pictures, take a sample, but hurry,” Dom said. “And be careful.”
“You got it, Chief.” Miguel bent over the creat
ure and snapped a couple of photos with his smartwatch. He used a glass vial to scoop up a tiny sample of the spilled liquid. He held it up, squinting at the substance. “At least the glass didn’t dissolve.”
“Shouldn’t. I’m guessing that stuff is acidic. Glass is going to be fine.” Dom stared at the fresh, strange Skull corpse in the cooler. It had all the telltale signs of the Oni Agent, from its spiked spine to the claws on its fingers. But that acidic substance seemed to have burned through the holes in its throat and dissolved its lower jaw. The liquid continued to seep from where its mouth should’ve been. The thing was different enough to deserve its own classification. “Goddamn Drooler.”
“Droolers, Goliaths, Skulls.” Miguel shook his head. “Where the hell is Connor?” He stood from the Drooler and placed the glass vial in an insulated aluminum case in his pack. “You don’t think this thing was him, do you?”
“Looks too big. Definitely an adult,” Dom said. “Connor’s just a little boy.”
Dom and Miguel crept toward the far end of the kitchen. They cleared a supply cabinet and a pantry—both devoid of Skulls and humans.
“Third floor brimming with Skulls, Captain,” Frank reported over the link.
“Thanks, Frank. Alpha, any signs of Connor?” Dom asked.
“Negative, Captain,” Jenna replied. “Nothing out here.”
Dom was beginning to lose hope. He’d almost lost his daughters, and he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to tell Connor’s parents that they couldn’t find the boy. But it looked increasingly likely the boy was dead, or, worse, a Skull.
“We going to call it, Chief?” Miguel asked.
Nodding glumly, Dom trod toward the exit leading to the cafeteria. A slight rustle caught his ear, and he froze. “You catch that, Miguel?”
The Hunter shook his head.
Dom peered around. They’d checked the walk-in cooler, the freezer, and the pantries. He squinted through the darkness, then heard the rustling again. “Miguel!”
“Alpha,” Frank’s voice called, slightly more forceful than before. “I know I’m not the captain here, but you guys need to get moving.”
“Roger,” Dom said. “Alpha, prepare to move out. Meet at the south exit of the cafeteria.”
A flurry of affirmatives came back. Miguel joined Dom’s side. “Chief?”
He heard it again. “There!” Dom pointed to a sliding door under one of the kitchen islands. He sprinted to it and then pulled it back. Behind a few stowed pots, he could see a pair of eyes looking back at him.
“Don’t hurt me, please!” the boy cried. He was skinny and covered in grime. He shrank back.
Dom slung his SCAR-H over his back. He pushed aside the stack of pots and brushed away an empty two-gallon can marked Dehydrated Mashed Potatoes. He grabbed the boy under his armpits and pulled him out. The boy thrashed, pounding his fists against Dom’s hands.
“We’re not going to hurt you, Connor,” Dom said, already running with the protesting boy to the cafeteria. Miguel pushed open the door, and they joined the others waiting by the exit into the hallway. The muffled cries of the Skulls permeated into the room.
“Let me go!” Connor yelled.
“We’re good guys,” Dom said. “We found your parents, and we’re here to help you.”
The boy settled at once. “Mom and Dad are with you?”
“Yes, they’re on my ship. Now, we need to be quiet, okay?” Dom readjusted his grip on Connor. “Can’t let the monsters hear us. Just keep holding on to me.”
“Okay, quiet. I was quiet in the kitchen.” He buried his face in Dom’s shoulder, tears streaming from his eyes. “I was gonna get some food, but then I got too scared. Tell them I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about, got it?” Dom held the boy in his right arm. He was skinny but not as starved as his parents had been. At least he’d hidden in the kitchen.
Rotating his left wrist, Dom glanced at the smartwatch. “We’re headed toward the Charles/MGH T station. It’s right outside of the north side of the hospital. Maintain radio discipline, keep all noise to a minimum.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” the others replied.
“Good. Miguel, Jenna, you know what to do.”
The two Hunters quickly took their positions within the group, Miguel on point and Jenna on rear guard. They flitted between the strewn garbage and chewed-up bones. A lone wheelchair sat in the middle of the hall with a listing IV pole next to it. Two Skulls lumbered around the atrium with their backs hunched and their shoulder blades cutting viciously out of their demonic silhouettes.
“Miguel, Glenn,” Dom whispered. “Take ‘em out.”
Suppressed shots ended the creatures’ aimless meandering. Their bodies clunked to the cold floor, and the group continued past. The cries of the Skulls above were growing louder, and the Hunters picked up their pace. Massive glass windows and revolving doors led to the main passenger drop-off and loading lanes in front of the hospital. A forest of plastic plants and lobby chairs sat between the Hunters and the exit. They crept between the artificial foliage until they were at the front doors.
“That’s the station,” Dom said, pointing at a round, two-story glass structure across the street.
“We’re taking the train?” Connor asked.
“Not quite.” The street was filled with Skulls climbing over the hoods of cars and ambling between broken storefronts. Two empty M939 trucks blocked the road between the hospital and the T station.
“There’s got to be at least two dozen of them on the street alone,” Glenn said in a low voice. “Plus who knows how many still climbing the side of the hospital.”
A loud cry echoed from down the hall.
“They’re on this level now, too!” Jenna said. “We can’t stay here and fight them off.”
“No, we can’t,” Dom said. “Time to run.”
-14-
Shepherd pulled a long green metal case from the wreckage of the Black Hawk. He looked around to make sure no nearby Skulls had heard him. But most were still scrambling toward the Goliaths stomping through Humvees and personnel carriers.
“Is that it?” Bard asked.
Shepherd pried open the dented case. Four cylindrical tubes lay inside. “Here we go.” He pulled them from the case and handed them to Bard. “Know how to use this?”
Bard nodded. “I think so, sir.”
The Skull cries intensified. Shepherd looked out of the scorched fuselage. Nearby, a Goliath pummeled the hood of a jeep. The impact sent the vehicle’s gunner flying. When his body landed, the surrounding Skulls pounced.
“Good lord,” Bard said.
Shepherd moved aside a charred passenger chair. The remains of a soldier were still strapped in. Most of his flesh was gone, with only sinew tenuously connecting his skeleton. Shepherd wondered if the poor bastard might be Jackson, but there was not enough left of the man for him to tell.
Shepherd pushed aside another crate with a busted side. He found the second thing he was looking for: several plastic-wrapped packages of C4. He scrounged deeper in the crate to retrieve a few intact detonators.
“That shit made it out through this?” Bard indicated the crashed Black Hawk.
“C4 is surprisingly stable. You know how to set a detonator?”
“I think we covered that in training, but...”
“I’ll do it myself.” Shepherd didn’t want to leave any room for error. He attached the first detonator and primed it with a thirty-second fuse, ready to start when he set it. After placing it down, he grabbed the first AT4 from Bard. “The Skulls are going to be on our position as soon as we fire this. So we’re going to take out that Goliath, set the C4, and make our way to our next position. Got it?”
Bard nodded and took a step back. Shepherd placed the AT4 rocket launcher on his shoulder and sighted up the Goliath laying waste to another jeep. The monster tore the driver from his seat and ripped him to shreds. It discarded the soldier’s remains in the pack of Skulls ro
iling around its legs. One of the passengers jumped from the vehicle and tried to run. He made it only a few yards before disappearing under a carpet of ravenous Skulls.
After removing the safety pin, Shepherd knelt, keeping the Goliath in his sights. He slid the cocking lever forward and over the top of the tube. Pressing down on the safety lever, he then depressed the firing button with his thumb. The rocket shot from the tube and smashed against the giant Skull. The projectile exploded in a storm of dust, fire, and gore. Fragments of bone and singed flesh burst into the air. Dozens of Skulls flowed toward the remnants of the Goliath, drawn by the blast. Still more started running toward Shepherd’s position.
“Arm the C4, and let’s move!” Shepherd shouted. He discarded the spent AT4. It clunked against a bent Black Hawk rotor stabbing out of the ground.
“Armed and ready!”
“Follow me!” Shepherd sprinted out of the Black Hawk fuselage. His M16, slung over his back, smacked against him. He slid into another Black Hawk. The chopper was tipped on its side, and its belly was torn open like a split melon. Bard caught up, panting, and dropped the other three AT4s next to Shepherd.
Shepherd prepped the next rocket launcher, all the while watching the singed Black Hawk they’d just departed. Skulls poured over the location, clearly attracted by the launched rocket. They poured into the fuselage, shoving each other, struggling to be the first to investigate what had caused the loud noise. Shepherd waited with bated breath and prayed his plan would work.
An enormous explosion ripped through the hordes of Skulls, rewarding Shepherd’s planning and prayers. Limbs, spikes, and claws flew through the air in a flash of vicious red-and-orange fire. The broken Black Hawk split open further. Its metal panels bent and screeched.
“It worked, Commander! It fucking worked!” Bard yelled.
“Keep your goddamn voice down. It’s got to work at least twice more.”
Flipping up the sights on the AT4, Shepherd pushed the cocking lever forward, working quickly to lock onto the next Goliath. The monster was running toward the civilian shelter. A pack of Skulls followed it. The group was only a hundred yards from the building. Soldiers guarded the perimeter, but Shepherd wasn’t optimistic about their chances against the horde of Skulls.
The Tide (Book 3): Salvage Page 10
