A general sigh of relief encompassed the room and McNeely sidearmed his rifle across the room to take out a computer monitor. “Goddamn it!”
Corky ran back into the room at all the commotion and looked around fearfully, not spotting the one she hoped to find and noting with sadness that there were only eleven people in the room.
Watkins observed the lack of bodies too. “Great,” he said sarcastically. “Maybe we should build a fire and sing some songs.”
“If I were you, I’d shut the fuck up,” Reynolds warned ominously.
“I have the right to speak,” he said derisively. “The Commander’s dead and we’re dropping like flies. Are we just sup…”
His words were cut off by the butt of Alvarez’s rifle slamming powerfully into the side of his face and he crumpled to the ground in a heap.
“Well done, Sergeant,” Corky said mildly.
———
Malory heard the gunfire and cursed, momentarily halting work on her preparations as she listened intently for several minutes after the last shot had been fired. Fighting against a gnawing feeling of urgency, she hurriedly went about finishing her work.
She had painstakingly rearranged the room’s three desks in front of the door to create an obstacle course, leaving only a few feet between each one. She was thankful that the infrequently used room was narrow enough to make each desk a tight fit. When Garret entered, he wouldn’t be able to go around and would have to climb over each desk individually, hopefully giving her enough time to get away. As an afterthought, she had used her rifle to knock the casters off the legs on one side of each desk. Her plan would fail if the creature simply shoved each desk together and crushed her at the far end of the room. With the casters removed, this would make that possibility much more difficult, since each one now leaned into the floor at an angle.
Feeling as if she were ready, she checked the magazine of her pistol and chambered a round. Leaving the handgun on the last desk, she slung her rifle and slowly began negotiating the furniture on her way to the door.
She had no doubt Garret was still on the other side, the sound of his fists pounding relentlessly on the door had proven to be a constant source of anxiety and irritation. Steeling herself with a deep breath, she leaned over the last desk to enter the code that would unseal the door. As her finger depressed the last key she scrambled madly back to the rear of the room, leapfrogging the desks as quickly as she was able. She retrieved her pistol as her feet hit the floor behind the last one and waited anxiously for the door to open.
The pounding ceased when the entry light turned green and Garret wasted no time in throwing the door open violently, lunging into the room with an insane glee. His waist slammed into the first desk and Malory took careful aim, letting a round go as he rebounded slightly from his collision. The bullet entered his eye and snapped his head back violently, a red splatter flying into the air behind him. Undeterred, he bowled forward determinedly, the desk scraping loudly as the casterless legs dug into the floor. Her second shot missed its target and struck him in the bridge of his nose, managing to remove a good portion of his brainpan with an impressive patch of hair still attached. Garret rammed the first desk into the next and his momentum came to a jerking halt as he encountered the second obstacle. The .45 roared again and his vision was extinguished in a red mist.
Malory grunted in satisfaction as he began to flail around blindly and holstered her pistol. Garret’s movements became frenzied and he lost his bearings, spinning around in a circle and lashing out in a desperate attempt to capture his quarry.
She brought the rifle up and kneeled to steady it against the top of the desk, taking deliberate aim. The bullets were fired one at a time, each one slamming into Garret’s right hip. When the rifle locked open, she inserted another magazine and continued firing upon her target until his ruined hip could no longer support the weight of his body. She stood to insert a fresh magazine when he fell and cautiously moved forward, clearly aware of the still thrashing body. With a deep breath of preparation, she hopped onto the two smashed together desks and ran into a short leap that brought her clear of Garret’s body and into the open doorway. In relative safety, she again raised the rifle and fired several automatic bursts into his good leg until the calf hung from flimsy strips of tissue. Satisfied, she reloaded her rifle and spared a spiteful smile at the writhing body.
“I’ll be back in a little while to crispy critter your ass,” she said cheerfully. “Make yourself at home.”
She pulled the door closed, entering the code to seal it and turning to make her way carefully down the steps. When she reached the bottom, she hurried under the staircase to retrieve her radio, pausing when she found a hacksaw lying next to it. Her eyes rose to examine the step that had collapsed under her weight and they narrowed thoughtfully; it had been sawed through to a fraction, one side of which now hung perilously from a small strand of twisted metal.
“Devious little fucker,” she mumbled and reached to pick up her radio. “McNeely,” she called hopefully.
Agitated when she received no immediate response, she was about to call again when she noticed the power light was off. She clicked it on and off and then irritably tossed it into the snow, realizing it had been on when she lost it and the battery had run dry. Resolutely, she rose to her full height and twisted her head around until the vertebrae in her neck cracked.
“Here comes trouble,” she said nefariously and began her trek down the hall.
———
In the lab, the sound of gunfire brought sagging heads up all around the room.
“That was a handgun,” Alvarez said coming to his feet.
Several of the men joined him and all listened intently as slow, repeated reports of rifle fire echoed through the complex.
Corky smiled joyfully. “It’s Malory.”
McNeely snatched his radio. “Commander?” he inquired hopefully.
No reply but an answering hail of automatic fire that quickly ended.
“Commander?” he asked again, waiting several long seconds for a response. He was about to speak again when a figure in the hall suddenly stepped into the foyer.
He lowered the radio slowly as Percy walked to within arm’s reach of the door. An expectant silence encompassed the room as all attention focused on the brutally disfigured man.
“He’s been shot up,” Clovis observed.
“This is the first we’ve seen of him since he went missing,” Reynolds said quietly. “I bet he had a run in with the Commander.”
“Well unless they decided to start playing with guns, I would guess she got away from him,” McNeely pointed out.
“We…” Reynolds started but ground to a halt as Percy extended a finger and depressed a number on the keypad. “Oh, shit!”
“Form up in the corners, move!” McNeely yelled and everyone scrambled.
Percy hit another button, slowly picking up speed and rapidly entering a series of numbers on the keypad.
“Oh, this is just fucking great,” Watkins murmured.
McNeely watched the entry light signal red repeatedly. “What are the odds of him hitting the right numbers?”
“A million to one,” Reynolds replied quietly. “But he could hit the right combo any minute or not for months.”
McNeely sighed, resting his rifle across his knees and leaning back against the wall. “Looks like we ain’t gonna get any sleep.”
“Let’s let him in, he’s alone,” Alvarez said.
McNeely considered. “I don’t know, they move a hell of a lot faster now than they did at the beginning.”
“No shit,” Reynolds whispered. “Gallagher was all over us, we’d lose somebody before we could put him down.”
“Leaving him outside is good,” Watkins said quickly.
Several sets of eyes strayed to the man contemptuously.
“Rigor Mortis,” Corky said quietly.
“Excuse me, Doctor?” McNeely asked.
“They�
�re moving faster because Rigor Mortis is wearing off,” she explained tonelessly. “It must take a while for everything to loosen up again.”
“They’re planning now too,” Reynolds added. “They must’ve decided an all out assault was too costly. They ambushed us this time.”
“Fantastic,” Watkins murmured. “Maybe we should just surrender.”
“Watkins,” Alvarez warned softly.
———
Malory sealed the tunnel door and again reentered the complex, spending a moment studying the carnage from her earlier encounter with Coy. There was a remarkable amount blood coloring the inside of the tunnel for several feet but no sign of a body, the red standing out dominantly against the white of the ice walls.
Carefully, she moved forward several feet until she could poke her head through the missing floor panels, her eyes landing happily on her discarded shotgun. She pulled herself up into the hall with a series of painful grunts and made a beeline for the weapon, snatching it up with a grin.
She loaded the weapon to capacity and chambered a round. “Groovy.”
Moving cautiously forward, she padded down the hall as silently as she could, coming to a gradual halt when she turned a corner and spotted a slowly moving body several yards ahead. Coy was pulling himself down the hall with his hands, the stump of his leg keeping him from walking.
Malory closed in on him from behind, a little surprised that he was unaware of her presence. As she came to within a few feet, she could see that his leg had clotted and looking closer, took note of the worms working their way in and out of the flesh industriously. Laboring diligently to keep the tissue they resided in functional.
She took careful aim. “Hey,” she said amiably. “What’s that on your face?”
Coy’s head snapped around to capture her with his one remaining eye, most of his head and face missing. He spun wildly on the floor, using his hands in a flurry of motion to thrust himself towards her.
The blast dissolved what was left of his head in a crimson squall and the headless body contorted viciously around on the floor. Eight rounds later, she mechanically reloaded the shotgun and carefully stepped around the ruined pulp on the floor to continue her journey down the hall, humming softly.
Eventually, she arrived at her quarters and she opened the door cautiously, a cruel blue gaze scanning the interior carefully. Satisfied that no one was lurking, she entered her office and, shotgun poised at the ready, flung open the door to her room. Her eyes immediately tracked to Little Lovecraft’s severed head and she snarled in fury, bending to pick it up and glancing around angrily in search of the rest of her doll. She found the body under the cot and gently put the two pieces of her beloved companion on top of her footlocker.
“Bastards,” she hissed.
With a livid sigh, she rose to strip off her rifle and bandolier, setting the shotgun on her cot so she could carefully pull on a sweatshirt. Once she had it on, and after several sharp gasps of pain as the shirt made contact with her nose and she forced her wounded arm through the sleeves, she pulled a belt from her closet. The belt became a sling as she strapped it around her waist, trapping her left arm inside the loop and snugly tightening the limb to her side.
Feeling considerably better, she reclaimed her weapons and walked back into her office, pausing at the door to snatch her sombrero from its hook before stepping into the hall.
———
Tension thickly saturated the interior of the lab as Percy relentlessly continued to calmly punch numbers into the keypad. Anxiety rising sharply and then falling off minimally every time the entry light flashed red, denying him access.
“We’re gonna have to let him in,” McNeely said resignedly. “We can’t just sit here and wait for him to chance upon the right code and we should do it before one of his friends show up.”
“We’ll need some bait,” Alvarez said grimly. “I suggest someone expendable and therefore nominate Watkins.”
“I second that,” Ring said quickly and hesitant chuckles sounded off around the room.
“Fuck all of you,” Watkins said ardently. “I’m not moving from this spot.”
“Knock it off,” McNeely chided sharply, shooting a glare around the room and then smiling slyly. “Besides, with any luck it’ll go for him first.”
The resulting snickers turned quickly into nervous laughter and even Corky joined in. The echo of a gunshot penetrated their moment of mirth and the laughter subsided swiftly. Eight more reports sounded off in quick succession and then silence reigned again.
“That’s got to be the Commander,” Alvarez said quietly.
“I know it is,” Corky said with certainty.
“Did those rounds sound any closer?” McNeely asked.
“Hard to tell inside, but they seemed louder,” Hanson replied.
“It didn’t seem to bother our friend out there,” Reynolds pointed out.
Indeed, Percy hadn’t paused in his mission and continued to persistently key numbers into the door.
“Could they be using weapons out there to break the seals on the doors?” Lenard asked.
“We don’t have a weapon in inventory that could break the seal on those doors,” Reynolds answered quickly.
“Could any of our weapons break through this glass?” Lenard asked, gesturing to the transparent partition separating them from the foyer.
The Chief looked at the glass thoughtfully. “I seriously doubt it.”
“But you’re not sure?”
“There’s a slim chance that concentrated fire could weaken it, why do you ask?”
“Not to rain on anyone’s parade but the chances of Lovecraft being still among the living is remarkably slim,” Lenard said regretfully. “These things have shown signs of astonishing intelligence, perhaps they’re experimenting.”
“Malory is alive,” Corky said resolutely.
“I hope so, Doctor,” Lenard said sympathetically. “But we should be prepared for just about anything at this stage.”
“Well, gee,” Watkins muttered. “The thought of those things with weapons gives me a warm fuzzy.”
“Watkins,” McNeely rumbled threateningly. “If we didn’t need the extra gun so badly I’d feed you to those things myself. Do yourself the favor of remaining quiet unless you have something productive to add.”
Watkins rolled his eyes and leaned heavily against the wall, McNeely eyed him carefully for a long moment.
“Sergeant Major,” Lenard said. “You said we have some explosives. Could they use those to penetrate the room?”
“Yes,” McNeely answered swiftly. “But to use them requires a knowledge I would assume no one else has, except for myself and possibly Mr. Alvarez,” he added with a look at the Tech Sergeant, receiving a nod of confirmation.
“Even the Commander?” Lenard asked.
McNeely paused thoughtfully. “Possible but doubtful,” he admitted.
“Have any of you considered the notion that if Lovecraft is one of those things,” Watkins began condescendingly, “she has the knowledge to effectively destroy us all? She could walk right up and open this door or bring the entire complex out of lockdown.”
“Malory is not one of those things,” Corky growled hotly.
McNeely shared a look with Reynolds and nodded.
Corky cast wary eyes on both of them. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Doctor,” McNeely sighed. “Unfortunately, Watkins has a point. We have to, at the very least, change the door codes again.”
“No!” she protested loudly. “She won’t be able to get back in.”
“That’s the whole point,” Watkins said coldly.
“She is not one of those things!” Corky insisted vehemently. “She’s out there fighting them, you’ve all heard the shots!”
“Doctor, if she falls,” McNeely said sympathetically. “She could endanger us all.”
“You don’t know anything!” Corky yelled desperately. “She would kill herself to kee
p from being taken by those things!”
“That, is unarguably true, Dr. Rivers,” McNeely agreed quietly. “But even if she were to do that, we’ve all seen the dead get up and walk.”
Corky opened her mouth to reply but ended up bringing a hand up to cover a sudden sob. She quickly turned away from everyone and faced the wall, her shoulders hitching.
McNeely watched her sadly for a moment and then turned to the Chief. “Do it.”
———
Malory walked boldly down the hall, making no attempt at stealth. Her emotions traveling back and forth between moments of bleak pain and vicious intent. She fought bravely through occasional bouts of wooziness that she knew were the results of internal bleeding. When she found her attention wandering, she hummed out loud in an effort to keep herself grounded, often softly singing the words to the few songs she remembered snippets from.
Her steps came to a faltering halt as she rounded a corner and found the remains of several bodies in the distance. Lips twisted into a snarl and her shotgun came up in preparation as she advanced unwaveringly, noticing movement as she got closer to her destination.
Jones was so intent on his meal that he was unaware of her approach until the last second. He raised his head from the grisly hole in Terrel’s belly with an expression of morbid surprise, only to find the barrel of a shotgun three inches away from his face. A ravaged piece of meat fell from his mouth in shock as his eyes rose to meet a pair of blue almost as insane as his own.
“Let me wash that down for you,” she growled nastily.
Jones would’ve found the blast deafening if he had retained the necessary anatomy. Grim intent fueled the next eight rounds and Malory paid no attention to the blood that splattered her from indulging in the close range massacre. When the gun was empty, she casually shook the worms and tissue off of her boots as she reloaded the weapon.
The sound of a footstep caught her attention and she turned to find Tanaka approaching stiffly from a few dozen yards away, one side of his head crushed in comically and the blood on his clothes still moist. She watched his advance indifferently as she chambered a round and inserted another shell to load the shotgun to full capacity.
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