Synbat v5

by Bob Mayer

  Riley stood slowly and held both pieces of firing cord in his hands. “I’m ready to wire this up to the ignitors.”

  “Why two?” Giannini asked.

  “You always have a dual firing system.” He held up the piece of det cord tied into the pipes. “This is the primary. It should set off all eight pipes at once. If that fails,” he held up the other cord, “then this one is set to go off five minutes later. It blows the explosive on the pan below the pipes. That explosion ought to be enough to initiate the fuses in the pipes.”

  “Then what?” Merrit asked, diverting her attention for the first time.

  Riley pointed at the pipes. “Those are called shaped charges. I don’t know exactly how it works, but the concave shape on the top of the charge focuses the blast.”

  “Don’t you have to put it against whatever it’s going to blow up?” Merrit asked.

  “No. You need stand off for the blast to focus.” He looked up at the pitted ceiling. “I don’t know how thick the concrete up there is, but it can’t be more than a few feet. There’s a layer of dirt on top of that, and then the river. There’s enough explosive here to go through at least five feet of reinforced concrete — and this stuff isn’t reinforced — and about ten feet of dirt. It will do the job.”

  “Let’s stop talking and get out of here,” Giannini suggested.

  Riley looked at his watch. “It’s almost two. Seay will be moving his people out in a couple of minutes. I’m going to wait until then to hook this up to the ignitor.”

  2:00 A.M.

  Doc Seay and the other six members of ODA 682 stood up and moved out of their defensive positions as the second hand swept by the twelve, marking the hour.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Seay ordered.

  When the DIA agent in charge started to protest, Seay shrugged. “You can stay here and die, or you can go to the surface with us. It’s your choice.”

  “What do you mean ‘stay here and die’?” the DIA man asked.

  “Stay here and find out,” Seay replied cryptically as he and his men set off down the tunnel. The three DIA men looked at each other briefly and then quickly set out behind the Special Forces soldiers.

  BIOTECH ENGINEERING

  2:01 A.M.

  Powers placed the bags of mixture throughout the first floor of the building, taking special notice of the equipment stacked in the main foyer, particularly the computers. Next to each bag he placed a small charge of C-4. He primed it with a blasting cap and linked them together with detonating cord. Then he ran the det cord back to the front door and hooked it into a radio-controlled fuse ignitor.

  The C-4 would explode the aluminum and flour mixture, which would blow out, causing a total vacuum on the inside of the building. Air pressure on the outside of the building would implode the structure, effectively destroying everything inside. Powers would have preferred to simply blow up the building, scattering it over the countryside, but the amount of C-4 required to do that was more than had been available in the bunker. The expedient dust initiator mixture would have to serve.

  Powers used the guard’s key to descend to the lower level and do the same thing, hooking the charges into another remote fuse ignitor on the same frequency as the one above. He took the elevator back up and made his way out of the building.

  CHICAGO

  2:04 A.M.

  Riley finally used the last two items they had laboriously carried here — two small lockboxes with timers inside. He hooked the det cord from the tubes into the fuse ignitor on the bottom timer, then connected the one from the backup system. He looked up at Merrit and Giannini, who had gathered in close.

  “My watch reads 0205,” he said. “Seay’s clearing the tunnel and will be out in thirty minutes. It will take us about forty to get out.” He moved the hour hand on the tube clock back to eleven. “I’m setting the primary to blow in one hour.” He moved the backup to 10:55. “The backup goes off in an hour and five if the primary doesn’t blow. You all ready to move out?”

  Both women nodded.

  Riley pulled a pack of four double-A batteries from his pocket and tore off the plastic cover. He pushed two batteries into the backup clock, and the second hand started moving. Then he pushed two batteries into the primary clock, and immediately pressed buttons on his wristwatch, setting the stopwatch for one hour. He placed each clock into a lockbox, then locked them shut with two keys. He handed the keys to Giannini. “You take these.”

  “What do we need them for? I don’t even understand why we’re locking the damn things.”

  “I’m locking them because if there’s a one-in-a-hundred chance that the Synbats come across this setup, I don’t want them messing with the ignitors.”

  “They could just pull out the wires,” she noted.

  “They could,” Riley agreed. “But there’s only so much you can do. We’ve got fifty-nine minutes. Let’s roll.”

  They set off down the tunnel, Riley in the lead, Merrit in the middle, and Giannini bringing up the rear.

  BIOTECH ENGINEERING

  2:20 A.M.

  Powers sat in the cab of his pickup truck and looked at the lights glowing in the foyer of the building. He reached into the cooler between the two seats, pulled out a soda, and popped the top. He took a deep draft, swished it around, and then swallowed. After a brief pause, he belched.

  He pulled the handset for the remote fuse ignitor out of his parka pocket and leaned it on the steering wheel next to the soda, then took another long drink.

  “Let’s see if the master can still whip up a good dust initiator,” he said to himself as his forefinger played with the power button on the control. He flipped it on. There was a bright flash inside the foyer, then nothing happened for a millisecond. The windows in the buildings suddenly imploded with a whooshing sound as everything was sucked into the vacuum caused by the blast. Another brief pause and the ceiling collapsed with a thunderous crash.

  When the air cleared, the mission had been accomplished. The only thing they’d be trucking out of Biotech the following morning was a load of debris.

  Powers put away the control and slowly drove off, steering with one hand as he continued to drink his soda in celebration, looking forward to the cold brew waiting back at Fort Campbell.

  CHICAGO

  2:35 A.M.

  They were more than halfway back to the manhole, Riley in the lead, holding the flashlight with his right hand under the hand guards of the M16. His left forefinger was on the trigger as the light played over the walls, left to right, forward, and then back, in a continuous pattern. Behind him, Merrit stumbled along, exhausted, holding his pistol. In the rear, Giannini crabbed sideways, flashlight in one hand pointing back, revolver in the other. There had been no conversation since leaving the demolition site; each person was lost in thought or trying to tune into the hostile environment that enveloped them.

  They hit one of countless cross tunnels, and Riley quickly scanned left and right, then unerringly continued straight on, due south. The walls seemed closer now and more forbidding. The darkness beyond the feeble reach of the flashlights was absolute.

  Another cross corridor and Riley stepped out into the intersection. Taking a quick glance left, he swung to check right, and as he moved, a Synbat slammed into him from that side at full charge. Large, sinewy arms wrapped around him and he immediately dropped both weapon and flashlight to fight for his life, trying to keep the fangs from closing on his neck.

  Directly behind, the second Synbat ignored the greater threat of Giannini and her pistol — its eyes focusing on Merrit. It leapt over the struggling forms of Riley and the first Synbat and landed on the doctor, slamming her to the ground. Merrit screamed as fangs tore through her shirt and into her stomach. Giannini swung her light around, pistol locked on the two figures struggling in the center of the beam.

  “Get out of the way!” she yelled at Merrit.

  Riley’s left forearm was levered against the Synbat’s throat. Saliva spla
shed on his face from the fangs just above him. He could feel distant pain as the Synbat swung at him with its powerful hands. He slammed his right fist into the creature’s gut, with no apparent effect.

  The second Synbat looked up as Giannini took a good firing stance, flashlight locked with her free hand under the barrel of the pistol. The clear shot disappeared as Merrit reached up and wrapped both arms around the Synbat.

  “Let go!” Giannini shouted.

  But Merrit held on as the Synbat reached down and twisted her head, breaking her neck. Giannini fired three times; two of the magnum slugs hit the Synbat, killing it.

  The shots echoed in Riley’s ears as the Synbat on top of him bit down on his shoulder. He heard, rather than felt, bone snap. The Synbat rolled, pulling Riley on top of him as a shield.

  “Shoot!” Riley screamed as the Synbat’s head dipped for a second attempt at his neck. He swung his right arm outside the Synbat’s grip and jabbed his rigid fingers directly into the creature’s face. The creature howled as three of Riley’s fingers pierced its right eye. Riley felt the bones snap in those fingers as the Synbat reared back, and then it was gone.

  Giannini fired her three remaining shots as the creature sprinted away into the darkness. She immediately knelt, snapped open the cylinder, dropping the empty casings to the floor, and slammed a speed loader against the empty holes. She stood and shone the light back down the corridor. “I think I hit it.”

  Riley forced himself to a sitting position, his back against the wall, feeling the bones in his right shoulder grate together. “How’s Merrit?” he gasped.

  Giannini backed up and knelt next to the doctor. “Dead. Neck broken. I told her to get out of the way, and instead she grabs the damn thing.”

  “She wanted to die,” Riley said, breathing heavily.

  “What?”

  “We kill these — and if Powers destroys the lab — the only link to making the Synbats is her. She knew that. Now she’s gone too.”

  Giannini shook her head and played the light over Riley. “Shit, you’re a mess. Can you move?”

  “Think so,” Riley said, gritting his teeth. He grabbed her outstretched hand and started to get to his feet when his left knee suddenly buckled. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “I didn’t feel that get hurt.” He reached down and tenderly felt around. “It isn’t broken. Must have strained something when the Synbat jumped me.”

  “Here, I’ll give you a hand.” Giannini helped him to his feet and then wrapped his left arm over her shoulder. “Can you walk like this?”

  They took a few tentative steps forward, Riley placing most of his weight on her whenever his left foot came forward. “Yeah.”

  They started moving. “But if another Synbat shows up, we’re gonna be dessert,” Giannini commented.

  “We killed one. One’s wounded. That leaves only one healthy Synbat, and I think it will stay with the young,” Riley said. “But if we don’t get out of here soon, we’ll have more to worry about than the Synbats.”

  3:02 A.M.

  “What the hell are you doing up here?” Lewis demanded, staring at the group of men clustered around the manhole.

  “We’re waiting for Mister Riley, sir,” Doc Seay replied.

  “Why aren’t you at your positions?” Lewis asked.

  “Because they were no longer tenable, sir.”

  “What?” Lewis asked incredulously.

  “They were no longer tenable, sir.” Seay looked at his watch. “As a matter of fact, the whole tunnel system is going to become untenable in a few minutes.”

  Lewis stared at Seay and sorted through his military mumble-jumble. His eyes grew wide. “Where’s Riley?” He looked around at the gathered figures. “What’s he doing?”

  “He’s blowing a hole in the roof of the tunnel where it crosses under the Chicago River,” Seay said.

  Lewis’s mouth dropped open as he realized the implications.

  Seay didn’t add that he was getting increasingly worried about Riley and the two women. They were late.

  3:07 A.M.

  The primary clock flicked to twelve and the electrical impulse fired a charge, which ignited the det cord. The det cord didn’t burn — it exploded, initiating all eight fuses simultaneously. The fuses set off the gasoline-ammonium mixture from bottom to top, causing the force of the explosion to focus on the roof of the freight tunnel.

  Riley had been quite modest in his claims. A car-sized hole instantly appeared in the roof of the tunnel, the force of the blast easily carrying through the concrete into the soil above. The hole grew smaller and smaller until it punched through into the bottom of the Chicago River. There the force of the man-made explosion finally lost its power to that of Mother Nature. The pressure reversed and the water came in.

  A dull rumble sounded through the tunnels. Giannini paused; Riley stumbled and almost fell. “What was that?”

  “You know what it was,” Riley said.

  “How fast will the water come in?” she asked as they continued on.

  “I don’t know.”

  “How far do we have to go?”

  “I don’t know,” Riley said. “Just follow the arrows we painted.”

  3:08 A.M.

  “Fuck,” Riley cursed as he stumbled and fell, taking Giannini down with him. “I’m feeling light-headed. I think I’m losing too much blood from my shoulder.”

  “Your shoulder?” Giannini asked. She shined the light on him, pulled aside the torn cloth, and gasped as she saw the mangled flesh. Blood had soaked his entire side. As she lowered the light she could see that the dark stain reached all the way to his boots. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because we didn’t have time and I thought I could make it,” Riley whispered, closing his eyes and trying to get control of his spinning brain. He’d felt this before, on the chopper flying out of China after being shot. He knew that he was minutes from passing out.

  “Go on without me,” he said.

  “Bullshit,” Giannini replied as she fumbled with his combat vest, looking for a bandage. She found one in his first-aid pouch and pressed it on his shoulder. A hiss of pain escaped his teeth.

  3:08 A.M.

  "Fuck," Riley cursed as he stumbled and fell, taking Giannini down with him. "I’m feeling light-headed. I think I’m losing too much blood from my shoulder."

  "Your shoulder?" Giannini asked. She shined the light on him, pulled aside the torn cloth, and gasped as she saw the mangled flesh. Blood had soaked his entire side. As she lowered the light she could see that the dark stain reached all the way to his boots. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

  "Because we didn’t have time and I thought I could make it," Riley whispered, closing his eyes and trying to get control of his spinning brain. He’d felt this before, on the chopper flying out of China after being shot. He knew that he was minutes from passing out.

  "Go on without me," he said.

  "Bullshit," Giannini replied as she fumbled with his combat vest, looking for a bandage. She found one in his first-aid pouch and pressed it on his shoulder. A hiss of pain escaped his teeth.

  3:09 A.M.

  Only an occasional car passed over the Kinzie Street bridge at this hour, and in the dark its occupants wouldn’t have noticed that in the water to the south of the bridge a whirlpool had formed. Swirling, it sucked down small pieces of debris from the surface of the river and bore them down twenty feet to the hole in the river bottom. The water was gushing into the hole at a rate of more than 100,000 gallons per minute. The freight tunnel under the river was completely flooded and the water was searching outward, north and south, east and west, the level lowering as the number of tunnels increased. But there was no end to the water that could come. All of Lake Michigan waited to flow into the river and then into the tunnels, until every last square foot of space below river level was full.

  3:10 A.M.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Giannini urged, pulling on Riley’s left arm.

  He pushed u
p on his good leg. “All right.” The two set off down the tunnel. There was a low, constant roar sounding through its length, yet no water had appeared. Above the roar came another sound — a riveting howl.

  “What was that?” Giannini asked.

  “A Synbat,” Riley replied.

  “Where?” she asked, the flashlight in her free hand jumping about, searching around them.

  “Not close to us,” Riley replied. “I think it got wet feet and is trying to figure out how to get all those little ones out. Let’s hope it doesn’t succeed.”

  They continued on, Riley closing his mind to everything but taking one step forward, and then another. Giannini’s hand was sweaty on the flashlight. She felt uncomfortable not holding her gun, but they needed the light to find their way out. She spotted another of the bright red arrows they’d painted on the wall on the way in. The entrance couldn’t be too far now. Another intersection beckoned.

  She was startled by the roar as the water caught them from behind, knocking them off their feet. Losing her grip on Riley and almost dropping the flashlight, she struggled to her feet against the water swirling about at thigh level. There was no sign of Riley.

  “Shit!” she cursed as she plunged her hand under the water, feeling around. Nothing. She stuck the flashlight in her belt and used both hands, flailing about in the water, searching. brushed her left hand and she grabbed hold. Gripping with both hands, she pulled Riley up, sputtering and hacking. His eyes held no sign of recognition.

  “Don’t lose it on me now,” she pleaded. She pulled out the flashlight and pointed the way ahead. The water was dark and oily- looking with floating debris. It wrapped around her upper thighs like a cold, slimy blanket. “Come on!” she exhorted Riley, trying to get him moving. She could feel the water slowly creeping higher as she moved.