by Jacob Rayne
At the man’s admission of being one of the creatures that had been bred in Jeffries’ lab, Abbott raised his handgun and pointed it in his face.
As his finger tensed on the trigger, he registered a blinding pain in his wrist and overbalanced backwards.
He gasped, more from shock than the pain, although that was intense. The old man had moved so fast that Abbott hadn’t had time to react.
‘Please, let go of the gun,’ the man who had applied the savage twist to his wrist said. ‘I’m a friend.’
Abbott gladly let go of the gun.
‘Thank you,’ the man said. He unclipped the magazine and handed the gun back to Abbott, who was now rubbing his sore wrist.
‘Don’t worry, it’ll stop hurting soon,’ the man said.
‘How did you?’ Abbott asked, his expression one of stoned wonder.
‘I told you. I’m one of them. I share their speed, their powers and their cunning. But I am different. I retained my humanity.’
‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Abbott said. But he had.
Morgan had been similarly fast.
Bass had an inherent fear of the electric fence, as he reasoned that the pulse could shock his controlling parasite into paralysis, may even remove it from him altogether, so he climbed fast, eager to free his brethren before the power came back on.
The guards were still milling around the car, confused, when Bass landed on the other side of the fence.
Bullets hit his fleeing frame, but it wasn’t enough to slow him, let alone hurt him.
He turned to the nearest guard, who was frowning in concentration as he pumped round after round into Bass’ chest, and crushed his trachea with one well-aimed squeeze of his hand.
The guard twitched for a while, then fell still.
More bullets thudded into Bass’ body.
The pain was starting to register now, but it was going to take a lot more than mere agony to stop him.
Bass shoved past the two guards who had drawn close to him and ran for the house, dodging bullets as they tore the air around him.
Mills saw someone land on the other side of the fence, but they were moving so fast he couldn’t make it out too well. He let out a cry as he saw one of the guards fall to the floor, his throat crushed.
Blood ran down the torso and face of the intruder.
Mills felt a chill run through him as he saw the intruder shrug off a hail of bullets as though they were pinpricks and continue running towards the facility.
Bass reached the house and booted the heavy oak door off its hinges.
He could hear the voices of his kind, closer now, beneath the floor. They guided him to where he needed to go.
On the ground floor of the house Bass found two guards, as well as the guards following him in. He grabbed one guard and used him to batter the others with.
When they were all unconscious or barely moving, he made his way to the entrance of the underground tunnel.
The door was set into the floor like a manhole cover, only much thicker and wider.
The heavy construction was no match for Bass’ superhuman strength.
When more guards ran in behind him, he turned and threw the huge metal door like it was a Frisbee.
The immense weight crushed two of the guards to a pulp, while a third ran, wide-eyed and screaming, back into the grounds.
Bass descended the ladder down into the complex.
When he reached the bottom, a tunnel greeted him. Immediately behind him was a thick concrete wall.
There was a key card slot by the door, but Bass had no time for such subtleties. He rammed a fist into the door, buckling the thick metal a little.
He smacked it again, sensing how close he was to his kin.
Their voices were closer than ever.
Mills called the laboratory and let them know of the impending danger.
An alarm sounded all around and on the smaller CCTV screens Mills saw scientists and armed guards rushing around the complex.
On one of the other small screens he saw the intruder battering on the door that led to the test facility.
At first he smiled; the thick steel door was bomb proof, bullet proof and most other things proof.
This maniac was going to break his fists long before he broke the door.
But his grin faded when he saw the small hole already forming in the metal.
The ‘surgeon’ was right in the middle of introducing Hammett to his embryo when the sirens overhead began to blare.
He tried to continue his task and ignore the alarm, but the siren was so high and nerve-shredding that he was forced to throw his hands over his ears.
The moth creature took flight from the table and landed on the glass enclosure.
Hammett struggled to free himself from the straps on the makeshift operating table, aware that any second the creature could land on him and crawl inside while he was defenceless.
The doctor rocked back and forth, trying to shake the noise out of his head.
Hammett watched as the moth creature circled the doctor’s head. It seemed attracted by his fear.
While he flailed it snuck in and landed on his face.
He recoiled, but the creature had already secured itself to the side of his head. Blood welled up from the claw wounds on his face.
Hammett watched in amazement and disgust, and more than a little relief, as the moth thing disappeared into the doctor’s ear.
Bass managed to make a hole in the door large enough to drag himself through.
His hands were now just bloody, mangled stumps, but he felt no pain.
Once his brethren were free he could take on his new form. This human body was just a means to an end.
As he dragged himself through the hole, a shard of metal sunk deep into his leg. His movement ripped his thigh open.
Again he was oblivious to the pain. Blood poured down his leg, leaving a trail behind him as he continued his inexorable progress towards his goal.
Guards were waiting for him in the lab, clutching Tasers which they thrust at him.
His vision blurred and shook as the blasts hit him.
His entire body convulsed.
He felt incapable of movement, let alone defending himself.
When the blasts abated, he lunged at the nearest guard and thrust his fist into his belly. The guard fell, howling with pain.
The next blast made the parasite in his head relax its grip a little.
He felt the wings come loose under his skin.
Felt the creature start to back away.
Despairing, he flung his hands to the back of his head to make sure it didn’t leave.
He knew he’d die without it.
Once he’d pushed it back into place, he focussed and lashed out at the nearest guard, kicking the Taser out of his hand. The guard wore a stunned expression.
Bass smashed his head into the wall until it was no more than a bloody stain on the pale paintwork then let the headless corpse slide to the floor and made his way along the corridor towards the Perspex entrance to the labs.
He pressed his hands against the glass, feeling and hearing the presence of his kin. He was so close to feeling them.
His human shell was dying, an unfortunate effect of the blood loss from his leg and the creature’s uncoupling from his skull. The contact between he and it was tenuous at best.
He knew he could liberate his kin, but he didn’t have much time.
Hammett heard the banging from down the hall and he knew that somehow one of the subjects was returning to cause havoc.
He was still held captive by the straps, easy prey for the creatures when they battered their way in.
So it was a relief when the lights went out, hiding the horrors from him.
And vice versa.
In the dark, Mills couldn’t see much from the security cameras, but he could tell that the intruder was inside the labs now, opening the doors that had unlocked due to the power being cut.
/> The sly bastard had tricked him into turning the power off and without it the doors were no longer charged to shock when the test subjects touched them.
But even worse, the doors were without the power of the electromagnetic locks, meaning that specimens with any degree of strength could break them down and escape.
Bass keeled forward after releasing the fuse for the electricity.
The voice in his head, the strongest among the babble, directed him.
The pain of his dying body started to reach his brain, but he would not stop until he had freed his master.
No longer able to walk on his damaged leg, he dragged himself along the corridor, heading towards the source of the voice.
Subject I continued to bray on the door to his room.
The power was off, so he could touch it as much as he wanted, but he could already sense the thrum in the air.
He knew it wouldn’t be long before the backup power came on and rendered the door untouchable.
He slammed the door, creating a dent but little else.
There was a click and a hum and the power came back on, making the door surface crackle with energy.
He knew he was the biggest danger here, so they’d set up his cell to be most secure.
But soon his brother would be here to free him.
Bass also heard the thrum in the air outside Subject I’s cell.
He was aware what it meant but also knew he had to get his leader out.
A pair of guards came from the red-lit shadows and opened fire.
The bullets thudded into him, surrounding him with clouds of flying gore.
The pain from every minute wound affected him now, but he was too close to his goal to let that stop him.
Ignoring the agony in his leg, he pulled himself up to a kneeling position and slammed his mangled hands into the mass of conduit to the left of the door.
His knuckles penetrated the thin metal.
Every nerve ending screamed as bullets slammed him again.
He gripped the wires.
Pulled hard.
The current flooded into him, making him crackle and shake. He couldn’t have let go of the wire, even if he’d wanted to.
The full effect of the current hit him as he rove the wires apart and he smelt his own burning flesh, felt the creature inside his head release for the final time.
His eyes vibrated inside his head. With the wires broken, the door to Subject I’s cell came open.
Bass saw his leader come out of the door and he finally managed a smile before his eyes and brain melted and oozed out of his charred skull.
Mills managed to get the power back on in time to see one of the test subjects escape from his cell.
Not knowing anything about the tests, he was relieved that it was only the one escapee.
The test subject who’d escaped wore a sickening grin on his pale face.
His black eyes seemed to penetrate the camera screen and stare right into him.
The guard who ran in and thrust the Taser at it wore a triumphant grin that soon faded when the escapee carried on as if the blast was nothing. It crushed his head between its bloody palms.
Shortly after the bloody mush appeared where his head had been, the camera went out.
Hammett heard screams and horrid screeches over the alarm.
He couldn’t see what was happening in the darkness of the lab.
The power had not yet been restored in this part of the complex, allowing him to struggle out of the leather straps.
He saw a figure in the corridor, deathly pale against the red lights, and shrank down below the edge of the window when he saw that it was Subject I.
He didn’t think it had seen him, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
His eyes frantically scanned the room for a weapon.
‘How the hell is this happening?’ Jeffries shouted down the phone to Blake.
‘It must be the creature that escaped from Morgan Sands,’ Blake said in a hurry.
‘Fucking hell. I want that place secured.’
‘We’re doing our best, Sir, but the man who got in has taken out a large number of the guards on his own.’
‘Get every available man there. Those things cannot get out of that lab. We’re fucked if that happens, do you understand me? Fucked.’
Hammett found a scalpel in the unconscious scientist’s pocket. It looked sharp, but ridiculously inadequate when he looked back at Subject I.
The hybrid’s black eyes were staring into the room.
He feared his efforts to defend himself would be hopeless.
Subject I walked towards the door and turned the handle.
Luckily for Hammett, the scientist had bolted the door manually. It was only a thin metal bar, but it would keep Subject I busy for vital seconds.
Subject I struck the door with his shoulder. The door shook in its frame, but the bolt held. How many more of those heavy blows it could take was something that worried Hammett.
He clutched the scalpel in a white-knuckled hand, knowing that Subject I was drawing ever closer to breaking through the door.
Mills worked on the monitors to try and restore the picture but it was no use. The camera was fucked and he had no idea what was going on in the complex.
On the CCTV screen showing the grounds of the house, he saw a dozen armed guards pouring into the access tunnel, the torches on the ends of their machine guns piercing through the gloom.
The door shook for a final time and the bolt clanged to the floor.
The time between the door breaking and Subject I starting his assault gave Hammett time to think about how powerful his foe must be in order to make short work of such a heavy door.
The door slammed against the wall hard enough to make the whole room shake.
Crouched behind the operating table, Hammett heard Subject I’s harsh breathing and tensed, ready to stand and strike at the creature.
Subject I took two shuffling steps into the room.
Hammett didn’t dare look at him, didn’t dare move, but from where he hid he could see two pale feet. Dark veins bulged out of the flesh, looking like the roots of a tree threatening to burst through the ground. They pulsed in time with Subject I’s ragged breathing.
Two more steps and he’d be close enough to touch Hammett, who knew that the time to attack was almost upon him.
Just as Subject I came into a position where Hammett could see his ravaged pale face and the obscene hole where a nose should have been, and therefore where Subject I would also be able to see him, a maelstrom of activity started up in the hallway.
There were gunshots, running footsteps, shouts, screams, all punctuated by the deafening roar of an explosion.
As Subject I turned to face the doorway he let out a cry and ran at the guard who had followed him into the room.
The poor bastard didn’t even have chance to pull the trigger before Subject I tore the head from his body in a hail of gore.
Bullets hit Subject I but they didn’t seem to even register with him.
Certainly they didn’t slow him.
He charged out of the door, mercifully out of Hammett’s sight.
Screams filled the air, along with wet sounds which Hammett took to be limbs being ripped from bodies.
Deciding to make a break for it while Subject I dealt with the guards, he carefully made his way to the doorway.
As he looked to where the majority of the screams were coming from, a hand grabbed his leg, causing him to cry out in alarm.
Subject I tore the final guard in half and set off for the labs where his brethren were housed.
He punched holes in the Plexiglas windows and let out a cry of victory to his four liberated kin.
After giving them an order to free the rest of their kind, he set off to the surface to make good his escape.
Hammett looked down and saw the scientist’s bulging eyes staring up at him.
‘Please. Cut the fucking thing out of me,’ the s
cientist implored him.
Hammett looked at him, glanced at the scalpel which gleamed blood red in the glow of the emergency lights, then shook his head.
‘You were content to put that fucking thing in my head, so you can live with your mistake.’
‘Come on. Please. I don’t want to become one of them.’
Hammett thought about it and shook his head.
‘Fuck you,’ he said, pulling his leg from the scientist’s grip and setting off down the corridor away from the screams and flames.
Subject I found that he instinctively knew the way out of the test facility.
It could possibly have been an intuition from Bass’ memory of the journey in, but he wasn’t sure.
He knew he could hear the thoughts of his kin and that he could use his mind to communicate with them.
Within a few minutes he was at the entrance, struggling through the large hole in the metal door.
There was a group of guards waiting for him.
They had guns and sticks which sparkled with dancing lights.
His grin widened at the terror in their hearts and minds.
Hammett ran deeper into the complex, hiding in the shadows as a creature he recognised as being one of Morgan’s litter uttered an ear-splitting cry and ran past.
He saw a scientist wielding a scalpel and thought of his close call with Subject I. His relief intensified when he saw the mutant grab the scientist’s arm and crush the bones in his grip.
The scientist fell back, clutching his arm. Gleaming shards of bone poked through his skin, pale islands in a river of gore.
The creature moved past him, not even regarding him as worth killing.
Hammett heard more gunshots and screams from the far end of the corridor.
Subject I didn’t like the sticks with the lights on the ends.
They weren’t any real danger to him, but they hurt enough to be annoying.
The first man who had hit him with the shock stick was now slumped back, his spine snapped like kindling.
