FREEFALL (A Megalith Thriller Book 1)

by D R Sanford

  "Can't you just say, 'Check your ammo pouch, Cullen'?"

  A shrug of the shoulders told him 'no'.

  Another flicker of the overhead bulbs, and they found themselves blind again. Cullen's light speared the blanketing darkness, too late to identify the beast hurtling toward his chest.

  He swung his HK around to deflect an incoming weapon but fell beneath its weight. Feet and hands clawed at Cullen's thighs and neck. It shrieked hungrily. Yellow teeth hidden by a mask of matted hair gnashed at his face.

  Cullen bucked and rolled, trying to get out from under the thing.

  Ferocious claws dug into his arms. Shredded his sleeves and tore at his flesh. The cloying smell of rancid meat and feces made him gag. It proved too heavy to throw off. He wrenched the HK under his chin, urgently trying to protect his jugular.

  Gurgles replaced the constant shrieking. Hot blood spurt on Cullen's face. The animal slipped off to his right, thrashing on the puddled floor.

  The dropped flashlight reflected off the tunnel wall, revealing Larkin's seven inch tanto sunk to the hilt below the thing’s ear. His savior knelt on the other side, firing another mag into a column of attackers. Shoulder to shoulder, they charged two wide, the ear-splitting wail and the scrape of straight-edged blades against the tunnel walls preceding them.

  Naked men. Covered with tangled hair, a wild dementia sparking in their eyes, they fell under Larkin's barrage. He shot them one by one until a mound formed in the tunnel. Eager for the kill, they started climbing over each other. Scores of eyes reflected in the flashlight beams. Cullen recovered his footing and joined the fight.

  "Come on! Let’s go! Bring it on, baby! Who wants some of this?! I got what you’re looking for!" Larkin taunted.

  They piled seven feet high to the ceiling until the two had to reload again.

  The wounded clawed and wormed frantically to free themselves. One scrambled out from the top. Larkin swept up the first attacker's blade. Flung it end over end, cleaving the thing's skull.

  Cullen had forgotten to breathe during the assault. Ragged breaths filled his lungs.

  "Larkin, thanks for saving my butt," he panted.

  "All in a day’s work," he said, grinning from ear to ear.

  Shrieks retreated on the other side of the mound. Anger suffused their cries, more so than the earlier hunger.

  Larkin ventured forward, climbing the corpses. Groans rose from the pile. Cullen held a grime encrusted flashlight in the crook of his neck and searched his pack until he found the HK's flashlight mount. Fixing it to the carbine's rails, he turned it on, pocketed the handheld, and shed blue light on the dead.

  Thick, foul smelling hair covered them from head to toe. A prominent brow ridge. Jagged teeth adapted to a carnivorous diet. Oversize eyes with elliptic pupils to improve vision in darkness. The rest matched the natural proportions of the modern human.

  Human beings, penned beneath a mountain. Evolved to survive the permanent twilight. Why were they here? What had they done to warrant their banishment?

  The crude weapons showed signs of intelligence.

  He slipped one from a dead beast's hand. Sharpened lengths of steel with handles wrapped in strips of hide. Cullen saw marks on the grip and pulled it closer for a better look. Some sort of decoration. Indicative of a material culture. Perhaps there was more to their attackers than met the eye.

  Dunking the improvised sword in the cold waters, Cullen rubbed his thumb over the markings on the half inch band of leather. 'TRUE LOVE' appeared in faded tattoo lettering. His gorge rose, and he tossed the sword from his hand, sickened by the evidence of cannibalism.

  Whining elevator cables pulled Cullen back to the hear-and-now.

  "Larkin."

  No sign of him. Cullen sloshed back to the vertical shaft. The car descended slowly on the tunnel. He ran back to the mound and saw Larkin's head perched at the top.

  "Come with me, or you’ll soon be dead," Larkin ordered.

  "But that's our ticket out of here. We can take out the riders and go up."

  Larkin turned and disappeared.

  "I can't do it by myself!" Cullen shouted then searched for footholds among the bodies.

  He clambered up the slick pile of flesh and spotted Larkin's flashlight beam bouncing down the tunnel, the splash of his feet moving fast. Cullen slid to the floor. Soaked his butt in the cold water and pressed on after Larkin.

  The churning elevator cables quieted. Seconds later a wave of searing fire engulfed the tunnel.

  ***

  Scavenging through the debris, Laeg collected arms and ammunition unaffected by Val's attack. He found the best ones wedged between bodies and riot shields. Passed over the weapons dented by the twenty frag rounds Val had unleashed in this direction.

  Val stood guard at the hallway intersection, giving Laeg the time he needed to strip off vests for himself and Robbie. Usually a walking cloud of cynicism, Val actually looked pleased with himself. He should be. It wasn't every day you had a chance to eradicate a fully armed and armored response team in four seconds.

  "Where in the world did you find that dragon slayer anyway?" Laeg asked.

  "Borrowed it from the armory downstairs."

  "You just walked right in there?"

  "That's the key. Go in like you own the place, and no one will give you a second look. Wasn't that the plan?"

  "Quite right. I just didn't expect you to be so successful. Good thing you were, though, or we'd be penned in without a den to hole up in."

  "Are you finished yet?"

  "Almost. I'm looking for a functional radio. Hold on, it looks like this one will do. Let's go check on Robbie. We're well outside of ten minutes and have to shore up our defenses or get out of here."

  Val led the way back to Robbie. Shot withering stares at anyone brave enough to look out the individual nursery windows.

  Laeg lifted his burden. Amid the rattling gear, he missed the giant rising behind him.

  —Chapter 24—

  STAND

  Dragged by his ankles across the wet bedrock. Bulbs flashed by overhead.

  Cullen's lungs burned. Smelled scorched clothing. Pressed his hands together in front of blurry eyes and saw the skin on his fingers slough off.

  Couldn't make out who pulled him along. Prayed it was Larkin and not cannibals. Cullen closed his eyes, repeating the litany until unconsciousness claimed him.

  A sharp, intense odor woke him. Cullen blinked the dryness from his eyes and shrank from the light of a single bulb. A young woman stood back, flanked by a pack of cannibals.

  "Good, you're awake," she said. "I wasn't sure if the bat guano would work in your current condition."

  "What do you mean, my condition? I feel fine." By the actual feel of it, his general condition sucked.

  He sat on the floor of a wide shaft or cavern propped up against one wall. His legs splayed out in a V before him, and what he saw didn't look good.

  The girl laughed at him, then drew the attention of the pack. "Can you believe this? The puppy dog got himself incinerated, should at a minimum be in a deep coma, and he's feeling fine."

  The hairy beast closest to her grinned and bobbed its head up and down. A stream of drool darkened its long beard.

  "Taste good," it growled.

  Cullen willed his feet to push him up the wall so he could make a run for it, but they ignored his plea.

  Paralyzed?

  Correction, his condition went far beyond suck.

  ***

  Laeg didn't have time to confront the presence he felt at his back.

  The next thing he knew, Laeg flew into the opposite wall face first.

  He bounced off the pockmarked plaster. Glanced up at the giant removing a riot shield from its back. Saw the shield spin end over end, knocking Val off his feet. Laeg could have sworn there were two dead men under that shield, not one huge, lumbering bull of a live man.

  Nearly seven feet tall and thicker in the shoulders than the shield he wore, th
e giant shook off his helmet, peeled back his face mask. He hadn't escaped the frags entirely. Trickles of blood dripped from his earlobes. His eyes looked dazed, but that hadn't kept him from getting the best of them.

  Laeg's satchel rested out of reach, closer to his adversary than himself. At half the giant's weight and lying on his back, Laeg found himself at a severe disadvantage. Maybe brains could overcome brawn.

  Heels pushing against the wall, a fierce yell on his lips, Laeg made his move. Not for his pack. Instead, he launched upward into a bone crushing bear hug. On second thought, this may not have been such a good idea.

  Laeg's undeveloped plan to get inside the other's defenses worked. The irresistible pressure on his ribcage threatened to steal his wind and sap his strength. He cupped his hands, stretched them out wide, and slammed his palms into the giant's exposed ears.

  If those eardrums hadn't imploded earlier, Laeg's work finished the job. Freed and steady on his feet, Laeg drove the tip of his steel-toed boot into the man's groin. Felt the satisfying impact against soft flesh.

  Reveled in the sight of such a big man doubled over and danced a little jig to celebrate the downfall of a goliath.

  "What do ye think of that now, eh? Thought you had me all wrapped up didn't ye, ye big lumbering oaf?"

  The oaf croaked out an unintelligible reply.

  "What's that? Sorry for throwing you across the damn hallway did ye say? Never should have punched in for work today, huh? Well, I'd have to agree with ye, but it doesn't take away the—"

  The riot shield—once flung to knock down Val—crashed against the giant's head. Val wielded it with vengeful force, swinging blow after blow until their attacker lay still in a widening pool of blood.

  "Quit playing around. We're losing time," Val said.

  Laeg looked to his friend in shock, saying, "What do you mean 'playing around'? Did ye see him toss me like a bale of straw and then try to squeeze the stuffing out of me?"

  "No, just him gagging at your audition for Lord of the Dance. Pick up your gear and get moving."

  Val turned and walked away, ignoring Laeg's rebuttals.

  ***

  Cornered by savage beast-men, Cullen closed his eyes. Considered his mother and her belief that he would precipitate the downfall of the current world order. Bleak would be the term he’d use for this situation. How long had they been in Cruacha anyhow? Thirty minutes, an hour, two hours? He’d be out of time before long, and none of it will have mattered.

  Nora came to mind. Cullen didn’t think she recognized him from inside the elevator. He’d blown it by getting cocky and broadcasting his supposed defeat of Maeve over the radio. So much for cutting the head off the snake and collecting his prize. Cullen’s naiveté and temper dumped him out of the driver’s seat and into the dunce’s corner.

  Should have handed the radio to Larkin so he could rattle off terrible action movie lines like ‘Maeve, I’m coming to find you’ or ‘I’ll be right back’.

  Laughter infused with self pity made his chest ache. He’d never see Nora again. Never clear his name back home. Piece by edible piece, Cruacha’s underground denizens would tear him apart and gnaw on his bones. Maybe he could convince them to start at his lower half where paralysis had rendered him free of sensation.

  The scent of roses in bloom drew Cullen up from his downward spiral. Right before his eyes, the girl who previously mocked Cullen straddled his thighs.

  Her fair complexion contrasted the dark halo of her curls. Shining, red lips formed an alluring smile below a narrow, birdlike nose.

  With her so far inside his personal space, he couldn’t avoid noticing the rest of her. A yellow dress—probably much sunnier than the poor lighting conveyed—clung to her curves. The deep V in front revealed cleavage worthy of a swimsuit model. The short hemline rode up on her legs and hugged the hips.

  Good thing he couldn’t feel anything down below. Hallucination or not, she had a very appealing figure. Cullen found it hard to concentrate in her presence. His thoughts escaped him. Lost track of everything when he looked into her midnight eyes.

  “Hello my love,” she said. The words spun from her lips, sweeter than honey. “This plane has been so lonely, not to mention boring, without you.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Me? Why, I’m the only one you can count on, aren’t I?”

  “I, I’m not so sure of that.” Cullen spoke through an increasing fog in his brain.

  “Oh, Cullen, don’t say that. We go way back. Back when you were just a man, and I made you a legend. Those were the days of glory, champions, and blood. My heart races at the memories. Here, feel it.”

  She laced her fingers amid Cullen’s scorched hair and drew his ear to her breast. The trip hammer pace of her heart drowned out the soft whisper of her breaths. His own heart matched the beat. He returned her embrace, feeling at home in her arms.

  Something within Cullen yearned to be part of her, as though he’d known her all his life. A primal urge that grew in its urgency until he was panting with need.

  “That’s my boy. Come to Morrigan,” she purred in his ear. “What has Maeve done to you? Kept you hanging in limbo for millennia didn’t she? It’s a testament to your strength that your soul held together. A weaker man would have faded into the ether. Not you, Cúchulainn.

  “On top of it all, your poor excuse of a mother abandoned her duty and raised you as a mortal man. An intellectual no less. Your true place is with me. It always has been. Every ounce of your being was created to wage war and revel in its rewards. Rewards like my companionship. Wouldn’t you prefer that to the meager existence you’ve been slogging through?”

  “People depend on me,” he countered.

  “That’s what they want you to think.” She stroked the stubble on the back of his neck. “All those people above us believe they can issue orders that you will follow, no questions asked. It’s time for you to rise. Leave them behind. Come away with me, and we’ll return with a proper army to claim our rightful place in history.”

  A prickling sensation started in his toes. Lit a path up his legs to his spine. The tingling increased to a burning, the burn to an electric fire that rebounded from his diaphragm and tracked back down.

  The all-encompassing pain severed Morrigan’s enthrallment. Cullen glimpsed shades of malevolence and cruelty beneath the flawless beauty, the dulcet tone of her voice.

  In his mind’s eye, Cullen saw his alter ego, the Cúchulainn who had risen to Morrigan’s call. A man possessed by his pride, driven by gods and men. That life was part of a past long gone.

  Cullen gritted his teeth against the discomfort. Disengaged from her embrace and sat back against the cold rock wall.

  “My life is not yours to guide, Morrigan. Whatever you want, I won’t be the one by your side.”

  Her eyes turned cold. “Don’t be so hasty, young Cullen. You denied me once before, and it cost your life. Are you sure you want to make the same mistake?”

  “The choice belongs to me. I’m here to free my wife, not to overthrow Maeve or start a bloodbath for you to wallow in.”

  “What a shame. I had bet on you, that you would amount to something, but I may be too early. Perhaps in your next life you will be more receptive to my offer.”

  She planted her lips on his forehead, rocked her hips off his lap, and stalked away.

  Without a backward glance, she called, “Loch! Dinner is ready!”

  ***

  Alex returned to the room where they confronted the guard, stripped the belt from his waist, and pushed him under the girl’s bed.

  He left the room with her in a deep sleep, safely dreaming about a summer she spent at a cottage with her family when she was eight.

  Passing from room to room, Alex encountered numerous women at different stages of pregnancy. Each one regarded him with suspicion until he transported them to a better place with a touch of his hands.

  No one questioned Alex while he made his rounds. The teams summ
oned to quell the third floor invasion found nothing but spent shells and guards intent on their room duties.

  Before releasing the women to the Land of Nod, he asked if they knew what lay ahead for them after childbirth was complete. Most didn’t have the slightest notion but feared the worst. Though treated with more respect and decency than Robbie had been, they all abandoned hope at some point.

  His heart ached and dipped to a new low after a girl shared what a particularly vicious guard had confided with her.

  “They’re going to feed us to monsters in the basement,” she said in a trance. “Down in the mountain where they get rid of the mothers.”

  What had Cullen and Larkin dropped into?

  ***

  Nerves mended. Cullen regained control over his feet and then his legs. Just in time to slide up the wall and shake out the tingling in his toes.

  No weapons on him and nothing in sight except for the crude blades in the hands of his audience. Not even the protection of his flak jacket.

  Morrigan faced him on the inner edge of beast men. They ranged three deep until the shadows swallowed them. From the way the hairy cannibals surged forward and pushed back, Cullen suspected they had assembled in greater numbers than the couple dozen behind Morrigan.

  The center ranks parted for the one she called for. Loch. He stood a full head above the others. Unlike those around him, Loch couldn’t be mistaken for a Sasquatch. A long mane of tangled hair fell beyond his bare shoulders, but the resemblance ended there.

  Dressed only in a strip of cloth around his hips. Grungy, filthy, probably smelled like his own offal. Loch stood at Morrigan’s side, a true straight-edged sword in his hands, held before him like a gentleman leaning against his cane. Encrusted with gore, the blade seemed to absorb the light around it.

  When Loch spoke, Cullen caught sight of teeth filed to points suited for the rending of flesh.

  “Cúchulainn,” his voice rumbled in the cavern and silenced the crowd. “I have a score to settle with you. From the looks of it, you’re barely half the man you once were.”