by J G Cressey
“I’m going to get some sleep, Private,” Cal said, resting a hand on Couter’s shoulder. “Wake me in half an hour; then, I’ll take over the watch.”
Couter nodded and checked his data pad. Then, he shook his head at the blank screen. “I keep forgetting it’s screwed.”
Cal shot him a small smile. “Roughly half an hour will do.”
Moving back to the central table, Cal pulled up a chair and made himself comfortable. Despite Ebner’s expression lingering at the forefront of his mind, he tried his best to hold onto his optimism. No matter how grim the situation, it was always a good mindset for an effective leader. People follow warriors, not worriers. That had been a favorite quote of Sinclair’s, which she’d fired relentlessly at her new piloting recruits. Optimism is the forger of steel… It keeps ships in the air. That had been another. Ever the eager young man, Cal had soaked up every word she’d uttered and had done his best to stick to them ever since. They’d already paid enough of a price on this mission; it was time for a bit of luck to come their way.
Resting his head on the table, he closed his eyes. Sleep came quickly, but it also came with visions of gaping maws, teeth, and shimmering scales, ghostly white in the darkness. Then came the feeling of being crushed. He slept on and, as he did when awake, did his best to fight the fear.
“I see something moving…something big.”
The words seeped into Cal’s brain slowly, like butter melting into warm bread. He knew the voice to be Couter’s, but despite the urgency of the tone, he struggled for a moment to rouse himself. Those stim drugs could work wonders, but the lingering side effects could be a bitch.
“Something’s definitely out there.”
Cal forced his eyes open.
“And it’s really damn big.”
Rising from his chair as swiftly as he could manage, Cal ran to the observation window. Leaning forward, he peered through the glass. He could hear weapons being snatched up as the rest of his team came to join him. The rain had all but stopped now, and bright moonlight was pouring through gaps in the patchy clouds. Couter was right; the new light had revealed something slowly moving in the distance. It was impossible to judge the creature’s exact size, but one thing was clear; it was a monster in the true sense of the word.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“There’s another to the east,” Couter said. “Smaller, but still huge.”
Cal spotted it: a ghostly apparition coiling out of the distant forest like a giant serpent of myth.
“And there,” Orisho pointed, “another one.”
“Christ, Ebner,” Franco said, briefly turning to the old man. “You really weren’t exaggerating when you said they were big.”
“Wait,” Ebner said quietly.
Cal turned to look at him; he was staring out of the window, his eyes dark but his face as white as marble.
“That lake in the distance.”
All of them stared through the thick glass, fixing their gaze on the lake in question. The moonlight was reflecting brightly off its rippling surface. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, like leviathans straight out of a sea captain’s nightmare, two huge, pale shapes began to emerge from its depths. Cal knew that they too were snakes, but at the same time, he couldn’t quite believe it.
“My God,” Orisho whispered.
Cal glanced at the veteran. Hearing a soldier of his experience react in such a way really seemed to drive home the nightmare they were facing.
“They’re turning towards us,” Franco said after a time. “They’re heading this way?”
Cal nodded, feeling his jaw tighten. The corporal was right. The beasts were slow in their movements, but it seemed a pace set by the certainty of dominance rather than a lack of ability. Cal again did his best to judge their size. It wasn’t easy from this distance, but he guessed the two largest creatures were close to fifteen feet wide and over a hundred feet in length. He’d faced more than his fair share of predators of similar proportions but never without some form of pulse rifle or energy weapon. He cursed and didn’t bother to keep it quiet. “Okay, they could be on us in a few minutes. Couter, get the shielding fully closed.” He turned back into the room to see that Ebner had rejoined his colleagues. The three of them looked terrified. He didn’t blame them one bit. They knew better than anyone what was drawing near, and he suspected that being on the cusp of a rescue was making this deathly approach all the worse. Ebner looked as though he was caught between disbelief and denial. The girl, Christie, rocked back and forth, hands clenched tight. Of the three, it was Campbell who, although clearly afraid, seemed to be retaining a semblance of composure.
“Campbell, I want Sinclair awake. Use as much stim as it takes.”
Campbell shot him a hard look, clearly angry and disapproving of his insistence.
Good, he thought, let her be angry. It was better than fear. Cal stared her down. “Do it. I want her conscious and mobile.”
Reluctantly, the woman lowered her gaze and moved toward Sinclair.
“Ebner… Ebner.” Cal had to shout the man’s name to snap him out of his growing state of terror. “Where did the last breach happen?” Cal already knew the answer, but he wanted the older man thinking and alert.
“The east…the ground level of the east wing,” Ebner replied, his voice distant.
Cal walked up to him and grasped him by the shoulders. “And if they breach the base at the same spot now that it’s weakened, at which point do you think the snakes will come at this room?”
Ebner shook his head and stared distractedly past him toward Couter, who was cranking the last portion of the shield down over the window. “It won’t do any good. They’ll hear us. They’ll taste us in the air.” He looked back to Cal, shaking his head. “They’ll sense our movements, even the vibrations of our hearts. I can’t do it again. I can’t go through it again.”
Cal firmly squeezed his shoulders. “You can, and you will.” He snatched up the older man’s chem-bomb that he’d left on the table and pushed it into his trembling hand. “We’re going to survive this. Help is on its way, but you need to fight for as long as it takes.” He nodded toward Christie, who was sitting beside them. The young woman was still deathly pale, her wide eyes staring at nothing. “Your colleague needs you, Ebner. It’s your duty to protect her.”
Ebner glanced down at Christie before managing a small nod. “Yes…” he said eventually. “Yes… I’ll do my best.”
Cal smiled. “That’s good. That’s all I’m asking.” He turned to see that Campbell was standing in the center of the room, idly watching them. “The stim, Doctor.” He tried not to shout the words, but he was fast losing patience. “Quickly, we’re running out of time.”
Campbell shook her head.
Christ, don’t tell me she’s losing it too. “Do it. I need Sinclair up on her feet. No matter what it takes.”
Campbell shook her head again. “I can’t.”
Cal walked toward her, feeling his temper rising. “Why not?”
“Because, Lieutenant,” Campbell replied, her tone firm, “the stim drugs are effective, but I’m afraid they’re not capable of resurrecting the dead.”
Cal stopped in his tracks, his anger instantly draining out of him.
Campbell’s eyes lost their hard edge as he moved past her to lay his hand on Sinclair’s neck. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe the woman but more that he didn’t want to. There was no pulse, and the skin on Sinclair’s neck already felt cold, entirely lifeless. Cal’s legs weakened, and he had to grasp the edge of the table to right himself. He felt as though someone had seized his heart and was crushing it. As he stared at Sinclair’s pale face, it took everything he had not to try resuscitating her. Even if he succeeded, what hope would she have surviving what was soon to come? He looked over her broken form, his jaw locked tight as if in spasm. He’d always reacted to loss with anger—the sorrow came later, finding a way in once the rage had passed.
Gripping the table hard, he to
ok a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Sinclair had guided him through much of his young life, protected him at times when no one else would—perhaps the closest thing he’d had to a mother. But she’d also spent years teaching him to be strong, to keep a cool head and find focus amid pain and chaos. He wouldn’t let her down, not now. Taking another slow breath, he leaned forward, kissed her once on the forehead, then straightened up and did his best to steel himself. There was a room full of people, some of whom trusted him implicitly and looked to him as their leader and others who needed nothing more than a protector.
“Wilson, Orisho,” he said, glancing at the two men, “lay Sinclair in one of the crates. I want her body protected for a later retrieval.” He took one last look at his mentor before stepping back and allowing the two veterans to get to work. With a glance to confirm that Couter had the shield fully closed, he turned to the others in the room. “Okay, I want everyone as silent and—”
“Lieutenant… Lieutenant Harper. I wish to converse with you.”
The words traveled across the room like acid in the wind. As he turned to look at Durron, Cal felt his anger instantly boil up again, but this time, it was an entirely different kind—one without pain, one that he could use. Pushing aside the urge to unleash Becker on the man, Cal swiftly approached him. The expression on Durron’s face caused a surge of darkness, but he refrained from knocking him out cold with his boot. “Your mouth is going to get us all killed,” he said quietly and with as much calm as he could muster. “If you don’t shut it, I’ll have no choice but to snap your neck.” He wanted so much to give into the rage, to snuff the man out of existence; the universe would be all the better for it. But as always, the faces of those who’d trained him, who’d shaped him into the man he was, shined a light on the darkness.
“I understand your concern, Lieutenant,” Durron hissed back. He struggled to sit up and failed miserably. “But I insist you cut my bonds. If those creatures get in, you know as well as I do that I won’t stand a chance. It would be as good as murder.”
“What about us, you bastard,” Pryce growled next to him. “Me and Billy.”
“I meant all of us, you fool,” Durron spat.
Cal stood over them, letting the anger burn inside him, allowing it to fuel him but not control him. His choice was simple: to give these poor excuses for human beings a fighting chance or allow them to die. It pained him to admit it, but as despicable as they were, he didn’t want their deaths on his hands. “Sergeant.”
As if waiting for her cue, Becker appeared by his side, spear in hand.
“I’m going to cut you free,” Cal said in hushed tones, his eyes shifting between the three men. “Any one of you does anything remotely out of the ordinary, either myself or my sergeant will end you. As you’ve already witnessed, she’s not one to hesitate, particularly over the likes of you.” Kneeling down, he pulled out his knife and began cutting the bonds.
A sly smile appeared on Durron’s swollen face.
Having cut the bonds, Cal put the knife away before he lost his cool. He stood and turned to Becker. “I won’t lose any sleep if you kill them by accident,” he told her, saying it loud enough for all three scavengers to hear.
Durron’s smile faltered a little.
“Are you sure, boss? You know how clumsy I’ve been of late,” Becker said, her eyes cold as she looked down at Durron.
“Completely sure,” Cal replied.
Durron scoffed, but his smile had disappeared completely.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
There was a horrendous boom.
Then another. Worse this time. Forceful enough to make the floor of the observation deck shudder beneath them and reverberate up their spines. All, bar the girl Christie, were on their feet. Even Poots was now upright—with help, she’d managed to refit her armor over her injured leg, but she still couldn’t put any real weight on it. Holding his bolt rifle in his right hand, Cal held out his left in a gesture of calm, hoping it would encourage everyone to stay still and quiet. In truth, he doubted they needed it—there was something about having predators the size of hovertrains knocking on your door that encouraged silence all on its own.
Another sickening boom quickly followed by a couple of smaller ones. Then a grinding vibration that seemed to go on for minutes but was likely just seconds. Cal tried to pinpoint where the giant beasts were attempting to breach the base, but it was proving a near impossible task. The noise seemed to come from everywhere but nowhere, as if the gods were hammering on the roof while the devil simultaneously tunneled up from beneath.
There was silence for a time, but it was far from comforting. Cal looked at his team spread out in the dim, blue light around him. Unlike the civilians, they all appeared calm and composed, but he suspected their hearts were thundering against their ribs just as intensely as his own. No amount of training could prevent that nor should it. On this particular occasion, however, Cal had to wonder whether their pounding pulses might actually be giving them away. There’d been little doubt in Ebner’s tone when he’d said the creatures could sense even those vibrations.
Another boom.
Then more silence.
Strangely, the quiet seemed more disturbing than the noise. It was one thing not being able to see a monster seeking you out, but to not hear it either…
But the grinding vibration soon started again, longer and louder this time as if drawing close. Cal continued to look at the others in the room. The glow-tubes offered just enough light to reveal that all eyes were on him: his team watching diligently for orders while Ebner and Campbell stared at him as if he might be able to simply beam them up if it all got a bit too desperate. Even Christie seemed to be looking in his direction as she rocked back and forth. The light, however, wasn’t good enough to judge whether she was actually aware of him and seeking some sort of reassurance or simply staring straight through him in her catatonic stupor.
Another boom was quickly followed by a low rumble. The noise seemed to ebb and flow, fraying their nerves like ropes being rubbed against sharp rocks. Cal breathed steadily and turned his attentions to the scavengers. They too were on their feet. Pryce and Billy looked ready to run, but the fact there was nowhere to run to was causing a great deal of anxiety. Durron showed no such emotion. It was as if the snakes didn’t exist to him. Instead, all his focus was on the man who had ruined his plans and disturbed his neat little band of morons over which he’d ruled supreme. He stared through the dim, blue light at Cal with spite practically dripping from his eyes. This time, Cal suspected it wasn’t an act. Perhaps he should have let Becker finish the job or done it himself.
The booming noises restarted. Becoming louder like depth charges closing in on their mark. Then, an almighty crash was followed by a deafening screech—the sound of huge, metal struts being twisted and churned against each other. The din continued for some time. Then, part of the base ruptured like a tendon snapping in a leg. Cal felt the floor shudder for the briefest of moments before dropping out from beneath them. It didn’t go far, but it was enough to send them all stumbling. As they struggled to regain their footing, the cacophony once again simmered.
But there was no silence.
The approaching mayhem had finally pushed Christie over the edge. The girl had spilled from her chair and was balled up on the floor, crying and muttering softly. Her words were indecipherable, but their meaning was clear. She wanted it to stop. She wanted to be swept away from the horror. She wanted to be anywhere but here even if it meant death.
Cal moved swiftly toward her, but Becker got there first. Slinging her makeshift spear over her back, the sergeant wrapped one arm around the girl’s waist, pulled her from the floor, and placed a gentle but firm hand over her mouth. Much to the relief of all those in the room, Becker’s actions instantly reverted the girl back into her mute state. She didn’t struggle or even attempt a muffled cry. Instead, she became still in the embrace as if suddenly blessed by an immunity from all that could do her
harm—a small miracle that Cal hoped to God lasted. With impressive stealth, Couter took up a protective position next to Becker. Cal smiled inwardly, the thought repeating in his mind that the young man would do well on his team.
The minutes of silence that followed seemed to stretch on as if warped by some cruel anomaly created to test their resolve. Then, Cal felt a subtle shift of the floor accompanied by a sinister creaking. It was slow and muted at first then steadily grew in intensity. It was as if the metal bubble in which they were cocooned was slipping into a deep abyss, the escalating noise like a gauge counting down the moments until the building pressure crushed them in the blink of an eye.
Cal looked up. For the first time, he managed to pinpoint the source of at least some of the sound. The wide struts directly above them were bending inwards and groaning in protest, metal grinding against metal. Then, the ceiling started to buckle. Feeling every muscle tense, he readied himself to run and dive clear should the worst happen. He had no doubt the others were doing the same. The floor slowly began to tilt. Praying that the rigidity of the base would hold out, Cal adjusted his footing and looked for something to hold onto. Then, the buckling eased, and the entire room rose up again as if spring-loaded.
Cal checked to see that none of the civilians were about to burst into a panicked run. He’d seen it all too often in situations like this—even in trained soldiers. The tension becoming too much and causing something in the mind to snap and demand action—any kind of action, anything to bring the waiting to an end, a resolution whether good or bad. Fortunately, Ebner and Campbell’s expressions hadn’t changed. There was still intense fear, but it was no worse than it had been previously. Cal was confident they’d hold it together. Weirdly, Christie now looked the calmest of the three. Remaining completely still in Becker’s hold, her expression was one of pure exhaustion. Cal looked toward the scavengers. Durron had lost interest in him and was staring at the buckled ceiling, perhaps finally accepting the fact that there was something outside more worthy of his attentions. Pryce was doing the same, his bulbous eyes seeming in danger of abandoning their sockets.
