Dark Rising

by Greig Beck

  Four shots came in rapid succession at a target closing faster than a human eye could follow. The remaining bulb at the top of the eyestalk exploded, but Alex only had time to move slightly to absorb the impact – he was still thrown backwards.

  The scream in his head now turned to one of pain and rage. Good, he thought. He taunted the creature: ‘On Earth we say, don’t skin your deer until its caught, ugly.’

  A plume of wet-looking fans and tendrils was waving frantically from the front of its head as it tried to taste Alex’s position from the surrounding air. Alex knew he couldn’t take another impact from the creature; his energy was ebbing. Last chance, he thought.

  He tore the shredded para-aramid suit material from his upper body and wiped as much blood off himself as he could. The creature somehow registered where Alex was and charged. Alex threw the wadded, blood-soaked material up and to the left of the oncoming monstrosity while he leapt in the other direction. As he hoped, the claws shot out and caught the clothing. It would take at least a second for the creature to relocate him and attack again – and that was all the time he needed. In midair, Alex brought his arm down in a hammer blow that combined his full weight and all the abnormal muscle strength his frame could muster. The twelve-inch Ka-Bar blade pierced the monster’s chitinous skull with a crunching brittle sound and sank to the hilt. Alex used the momentum of his leap to keep sailing past and land several feet behind the giant arthropod.

  When he turned, he knew from the creature’s spastic movements that he had found if not its brain, then at least some sort of nerve junction. The creature collided with the wall with a cracking impact. It fell onto its back and its multiple legs scrabbled in the air for a while, before it righted itself and then reared up to spit its caustic venom along the corridor.

  Alex had heard that the common household cockroach could survive for a week without its head, and even then only died from dehydration and starvation. Who knew how long this thing could live? He felt for the medkit at his waist – there was no time for a full workup, but enough for a quick field repair. He knelt and squirted wound adhesive into the gaping slash across his chest, then pinched the wound together for a few seconds until he was sure it would hold, all the time keeping his eyes on the mad skittering of the giant creature.

  He stood and walked to where O’Riordan’s torn body lay. The tattered uniform covered the ragged mess of dried entrails, muscle and bone beneath. Alex closed the man’s eyes; there was no time for words now.

  He took some of O’Riordan’s ammunition and his long Ka-Bar knife, which he placed in his own empty scabbard. He was about to stand when he noticed a single explosive spider resting in a pouch at the fallen HAWC’s waist. Alex pulled the small metal box free and looked at the creature. It was still making mad uncoordinated movements along the corridor. He stood slowly with the box in his hand and stared down at the mess that had been one of his men. The skittering came a little closer and the creature’s claws lashed out blindly, probably in a dying reflex. Alex knew he had to get back to his team… but there was one more thing he needed to do first.

  He tensed his body. ‘For Irish,’ he said, and leaped.

  He landed on the monster’s back, grabbed his knife where it was embedded in the heavily armoured skull and twisted. In his other hand he held the spider up high, battling to stay on the thing’s back as it bucked beneath him. Even with a pierced brain it reacted to the attack. Alex brought more strength to the blade as he tried to turn it again – still it held. He screamed his hatred and anger and twisted with a burst of strength that caused the creature’s skull to split open a few inches along a biological seam.

  ‘We own this fucking planet,’ Alex said. He pressed a small button on the spider and jammed it into the crack in the skull. The small silver legs immediately sprang out of the device and grasped the edges of the break, locking it in place.

  Alex jumped free and rolled twice to avoid the explosion. In the reinforced corridor, the blast was condensed and delivered up and down the passage. There was a rushing dry heat, and a mix of metal and biological shrapnel peppered his back and upper arms.

  Alex got to his feet and smiled grimly. Where the creature’s head had been, there was just a sizzling crater, like a boiled egg with its top sliced off ready for consumption. A smell like cooked shellfish and sickly sweet vinegar filled the air. The body quivered for another moment and then lay still.

  ‘Now we’re done,’ Alex said.

  He looked down at his own bleeding and battered body. There was a shard sticking out of his upper arm and he pulled it free – an inch-long piece of dark mottled shell, thick, extremely hard and slightly waxy. He rubbed it with his thumb and pushed it into his pocket.

  Alex’s wounds stopped bleeding as he jogged back down the corridor. He ached all over but pushed the pain from his mind. The solid steel door loomed before him. Hope I’m not late for the party, he thought.

  FORTY-SIX

  Five… four… three… two… one… a red light turned green. The hissing stopped. Zach dropped his hands from his face and looked embarrassed.

  Sam turned to Adira and Zach and said, ‘Get behind us.’

  ‘Not a chance.’ Adira had her gun up and her eyes burned with a focused intensity.

  Zach also had his gun drawn, but he stood a little behind Lagudi. He saw the HAWC cross himself once and suck in a deep breath.

  The door slid open.

  ‘Kadima!’ Adira screamed – an ancient Hebrew battle cry that made the giant Urakher waiting for them on the other side of the door bellow in anger. She pushed past Rocky and Sam and dived to the floor, firing as she went.

  Lagudi and Sam were through just as fast, fanning left and right. Zach jammed a knife into the door rail to stop it from closing, then followed Adira, wriggling on his stomach towards a hiding place under the table.

  The four Urakher had obviously been expecting this, Al Janaddi thought. That was why they were wearing the protective vests. The man with Al Janaddi placed his huge hand behind the scientist’s neck and hissed into his ear, ‘Start the Event now, little man, or you will die.’

  The other three Urakher came forward in a solid wall of flesh, providing cover for their companion and Al Janaddi. They fired at the intruders with a skill that told of many years of training. The gunfire was frighteningly loud in the small room, and the dull smacking of bullets impacting against the Americans’ armour and the Urakhers’ reinforced vests sounded like heavy rain on a canvas sail. If the Urakher felt the pain of the impacts, they gave no sign.

  The HAWCs and Adira each picked a target and engaged it with a volley of bullets. They quickly found that, for large men, these soldiers moved quickly and were without fear. Adira spotted the star and crescent tattoo on the temple of one of the men and couldn’t suppress a shudder of fear and revulsion. Achhh, Urakher – the warrior dead – she hadn’t thought they still existed. They were madmen, known for their fearlessness in battle and their total disdain for their own or any other life. In all her time in Metsada, Adira had never heard of one being killed.

  The technicians and scientists in the room dived to cower beneath tables or anywhere they could find refuge. One of the technicians ducked under the table next to Zach, who just looked at him with raised eyebrows and shrugged.

  Lagudi had closed the gap on his man and was now in range of a pair of gigantic arms with fists the size of bricks. The Urakher seized Lagudi’s gun hand and brought his elbow around towards the HAWC’s chin, expecting to connect in a bone-shattering strike. Lagudi blocked the powerful thrust, recognising the martial arts strike. ‘Not bad, but now you’re playing in my sandpit, asshole.’ He released his gun and brought a flat-handed strike up under his opponent’s chin. The Urakher’s head snapped back, but instead of the rewarding sound of cartilage and bone snapping, Lagudi saw the man’s head immediately come back down. There was no pain or anger in those black eyes – just a calmness that the muscular little HAWC found unsettling.

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nbsp; Adira had managed to put a bullet in the thigh and upper arm of her opponent, but he kept coming forward. She didn’t want to get within reach of those hands – the fanatical giant could literally tear her arms off. She fired again and rolled to keep a little distance between herself and the black-clad titan. But eventually she would be backed into a corner or would run out of ammunition – and she knew there would be no time for a reload.

  She heard a booming sound coming from outside the closed entry door to the security chamber that led into the lab. Just then Sam Reid came hurtling across the room at about head height, only to smash into a wall and crumple to the ground. This is not going well, she thought.

  The booming sound came again.

  We need more time, Adira thought, and then 250 pounds of muscle wrapped in Kevlar landed on top of her. Dafook! Caught, she thought. Time’s up – make it count.

  The security door was thick and made of a condensed alloy especially toughened to resist bullets and heat. Alex could hear the sound of gunfire and mayhem through the steel, and could feel pain being registered. There was a battle going on in there – his HAWCs against an unknown number of highly trained opponents – and he needed to be part of it.

  The number pad and its code were inaccessible to him, so he withdrew his two remaining spiders and placed them together in one corner of the door, setting them for five seconds. He ran a few feet around the curve of the corridor. The explosion blew tiles off the ceiling and floor above and around the door, but the security alloy held. It was burnt and abraded but not even cracked.

  ‘Shit!’ Alex yelled, and punched the door. He kicked out at it, and then punched it again and again. The booming clangs of his blows became just as loud as the explosives he had used and with each one Alex’s anger built. More steroids and more adrenalin flushed into his system, natural stimulants mixing with the unique chemical compounds introduced in a laboratory on the other side of the world, until his entire body almost hummed with unnatural strength.

  Alex struck the door with a two-fisted overhead blow and was rewarded by a large dent in its centre. Too long, he thought. His fists bled, but the pain in his hands was nothing compared to the agonised red screaming in his head. It was becoming hard to think clearly. He withdrew O’Riordan’s Ka-Bar blade and assessed the best place to strike. It was going to be futile, but rage was now beginning to cloud his logic. He backed up a step, lifted the blade high and launched himself at the door.

  *

  The Urakher standing guard over Al Janaddi watched closely as the scientist initiated the Judgment Event. He spoke quietly into his ear: ‘Turn on the microphone to the capsule.’

  The scientist complied, then tried to squirm out of the giant hand that was crushing his neck. The Urakher squeezed a little harder and gazed reverently through the window at the lead capsule. ‘We have begun the program, my Mahdi, O Allah be praised,’ he said.

  From the capsule came the response: ‘Allahu Akbar, faithful one, I will intercede for you, your family and all your ancestors.’

  Incredibly, Al Janaddi heard singing through the speaker. It was the Adhan, the call to prayer – the first song heard by a Muslim newborn, the first song sung in a school or new home, the song for a new beginning. The president’s voice was as haunting as it was melodious. It was said that the more powerful the voice, the more powerful the prayer.

  In the sphere room, a low horn sounded and the lights began to dim.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  ‘I’m sorry, Jack. You know we can’t let our enemies perfect nuclear technology,’ General Meir Shavit said. ‘They have said they wish to burn us from the map. They are only words until they have the technology to actually do it.’

  Major Hammerson knew what a risk his friend was taking in preparing to strike first against Iran. Such an act could set fire to the entire Middle East; but failing to act now could mean the future obliteration of his country. It was a devil of a choice.

  ‘Meir, just give me two hours,’ the Hammer replied. ‘My team is still in there, and until I hear different, I have to assume they will succeed.’

  There was silence on the phone for nearly thirty seconds; Hammerson’s hand tightened as he waited for a response.

  ‘The one you call Arcadian is there, isn’t he,’ the general said. ‘I think he must be very valuable. One day we will talk further on this… And remember, I also have a team in there. I can give you just one hour.’ The phone went dead.

  Hammerson rubbed his forehead, disconnected the call and then immediately picked up the phone again. ‘Annie, get me the president.’

  Lagudi’s forearms were heavily bruised, and one of the thick metacarpal bones in the back of his hand was broken. His training had taught him to ignore pain, but he knew he was wearing down. His opponent’s face was cut and battered but he was still strong – stronger than he was.

  The HAWC struck out again with a flat-handed strike followed by a roundhouse kick, and once again they were both blocked. The Urakher countered with two massive lunge punches and a vicious snap-kick. Lagudi deflected the punches, but was only partially successful in diminishing the kick’s power – he felt something else splinter in his body. Lagudi was good, but he realised that his opponent was better. The oldest maxim in the fighting world kept sneaking into his head: A good big man will always beat a good little man.

  The two-fingered snake strike flicked out at his neck so quickly he only registered it after it had been executed, and he knew immediately his larynx was crushed. It’d be a slow, suffocating death without a tracheotomy, and he doubted his opponent would give him a few minutes to cut a hole in his own throat and insert a breathing tube. Another immense blow smashed him to the ground – he had no breath left in his lungs.

  The Urakher drew his leg back, preparing to deliver a massive kick to Lagudi’s head. He didn’t need finesse this time, just a lot of power to smash the skull.

  Five gunshots rang out. Only two were on target; but as their target was the back of the Urakher’s head, two were enough – the man was dead before he fell to the ground.

  Rocky looked across to see Dr Shomron sighting along his shaking pistol from under a table. The HAWC gave the scientist a bloody smile through lips that were turning a deep blue, and slowly nodded his thanks. Then he closed his eyes.

  The Urakher lifted Adira as easily as if she were a child, one hand around her neck, the other on her gun. He tore it from her fingers and flung it away with disdain. He smiled; Adira could tell he was expecting to enjoy this.

  She could hear the booming impacts against the door again – she needed to place a bet. If it was the Takavaran, it didn’t matter – she was dead anyway. If it was Alex, they stood a chance. From her sleeves she drew a pair of throwing spikes. She stabbed the first into the forearm of the Urakher up to the hilt, inserted between the ulna and radius bones and into the meat of the brachiordial muscle, and pushed the blade hard to the side. Not totally debilitating, but she knew it would hurt like hell – and, no matter how strong the man was, would cause the hand to automatically open. It did and she fell to the floor. A few seconds was all she needed…

  She sighted the exit button at the far end of the white entrance corridor and, with unerring aim, launched the thin black blade. It struck the button perfectly and the door slid back.

  She smiled when she saw what was on the other side. She had bet correctly.

  The Urakher lifted her again and punched her hard in the face. Before she lost consciousness, she had a vision of a giant red bird flying towards her. Come the Arcadian, she thought, as everything went dark.

  The toughened blade of the Ka-Bar shattered against the dense alloy of the security door, leaving Alex with only balled fists and a volcanic rage. He screamed his fury at the obstruction and backed away to the far wall. He lowered his shoulder, every muscle tensed as he commenced his charge. At that exact moment the door slid open. He continued anyway and went through like a red-streaked missile.

  Alex’s body a
nd senses were so supercharged that the world seemed to crawl around him. He took in the broken figure of Sam being pummelled by a towering man; the battered and still body of Rocky Lagudi, a dead giant next to him; another enormous man holding a small man in a lab coat at the far end of the command centre; and a fourth ogre, his foot lifted over Adira’s head, about to stomp the life from her.

  The giant looming over Adira turned to Alex. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the man streaking towards him faster than a desert jaguar. Alex’s uniform top was shredded and singed at the edges, and blood streaked his face and his body. But it was his eyes, blazing with a murderous rage, that made the tall Urakher feel things he hadn’t felt since he was a small boy – fear and doubt.

  The Urakher drew his gun, but Alex had reached him before he had a chance to fire. Alex struck the man on the cheekbone with enough force to crush his head and propel his body across the room. His large shape struck one of the metal computer cabinets and embedded itself into the steel frame.

  *

  The Urakher with Al Janaddi witnessed the blow and his eyes momentarily widened in disbelief. He called to his remaining colleague to finish with Sam and deal with Alex; he needed a few more minutes with the little man.

  Through the viewing panel, the sphere glowed, then seemed to shrink into a dot of nothingness inside a white halo: Al Janaddi had initiated and opened the president’s Judgment Event. The plasma beam directed a purplish stream of charged electrons into the centre of the black hole and began to feed it. The screens in the viewing room registered movement – the rows of batteries began to fill and a graphic representation of the event showed as a small dot held in stasis between the encircling magnetic domains.