Harper's Ten: Prequel to the Fractured Space Series

by J G Cressey

  Then there was Billy. The young addict’s earlier indulging of the dreamwitch was clearly still causing him problems. He was staring dead ahead, breaths fast and ragged, profuse sweat beading across his face. Cal gritted his teeth and managed to hold back a cascade of curses. Billy was an expanding balloon of panic that was about to burst. Cal briefly berated himself for not remaining closer to the scavengers; if necessary, he could have rendered Billy unconscious. He thought about trying to alert Durron or Pryce to the worsening state of their skittish young companion, but based on the limited time he’d already spent in their company, he guessed their response would either be one of indifference or a complete overreaction that could make matters infinitely worse.

  Fortunately, Cal was saved from having to make the decision.

  Unfortunately, the intervention came in the form of chaos.

  A sudden, sickening crack rent the air as if from a thousand lightning strikes. The room abruptly contorted, jostling every one of them off their feet to hit the floor hard. It was entirely likely that Billy had cried out in that moment—and he probably wouldn’t have been alone—but the ear-splitting noise of the crack and the ensuing twisting and tearing of metal would have drowned out even the loudest of screams. Despite the room still shuddering and tipping, Cal managed to grasp a leg of one of the fixed tables and pulled himself to his knees. Sweeping his head around, he tried to assess what was happening and where the hell it was happening. At the far end of the room, the solid metal doors leading to the eastern corridor began to warp and crumple as if constructed from paper. A fissure appeared between them like the eye of a giant demon, rapidly widening to reveal the pitch black corridor beyond. Cal held on tight, his eyes fixed on that blackness, praying that no pale shapes would penetrate it.

  None did, and eventually, the boiling chaos simmered to another still calm.

  Cal looked to Becker. Although now on the floor, she still had a hold of Christie, who lay as motionless as a child’s doll. Cal would have thought the girl asleep were it not for her wide, fearful eyes. Slowly twisting around, he looked back at Billy. The young man still looked like a potential flight risk, but Pryce had obviously noticed it too and was carefully crawling toward him. Cal wasn’t entirely sure that stealth was going to do them much good at this point, but it certainly couldn’t make their situation worse. He watched as Pryce looped his arm around his skinny young friend’s neck and restrained him. Unlike Becker’s firm but tender hold of Christie, Pryce went for an altogether rougher approach—more of a headlock than an embrace. Satisfied that the young scavenger wasn’t about to put up a fight or start squealing, Cal once again fixed his gaze on the torn-open doorway at the far end of the room. As far as he could make out, it was the one and only breach into their little cocoon.

  The corridor beyond was still black, still lifeless, but a feeling descended on Cal that was cold and all-encompassing. A silent promise that poured out of the dark, assuring him that they wouldn’t be alone for much longer. His bolt rifle gripped tightly in one hand, he reached over his shoulder to the spear-like weapon that was strapped to his back. He touched it once, more to reassure himself that it was still there than anything else, then used hand signals to guide everyone further back into the room, away from the skewed doorway. As they retreated, he laid his free hand on the chem-bomb at his hip and hooked his finger into the pin. He thought about activating it, throwing it at the foot of the breach. But what if the feeling that was tugging at his gut was just paranoia? What if nothing was approaching through the dark corridor? Maybe it was only an internal breach. Maybe the exterior shell of the base was still holding out. Then, the bomb would have been wasted, and they weren’t exactly in ample supply. Not only that but the noise would well and truly announce their presence. He retracted his finger but kept his hand near the bomb.

  As they continued to back up, Orisho and Wilson moved to the front of the group, swords gleaming, almost like some sort of energy weapons in the blue light. Franco moved a few paces behind them, bolt rifle leveled. Poots shuffled back with Campbell and Ebner’s help, the scavenger’s old pistol tight in her grip. Couter remained close to Becker while she practically dragged Christie. The girl’s legs were moving, but they were weak and uncoordinated. Cal moved out to the side of the group; he wanted to cover his team as well as keep an eye on Durron and his cronies. Maybe he should have locked them in a separate room, let them fend for themselves. But it was too late for that now.

  A loud thud sounded to Cal’s right. With a pulse of adrenaline, he whipped his rifle around and almost let off a couple of reactionary shots. Fortunately, his training prevented what would have been a waste of ammo. A large dent had appeared in the center of the doors that led to the stairwell.

  Thump. Thump.

  The dent became larger.

  Cal quickly retreated from the doors and used hand signals to guide everyone to the corner of the room.

  Thump. Thump.

  The sound echoed around the room as if it too was searching them out.

  Christ. This visitor obviously wasn’t the biggest of the brutes they’d seen approaching the base, but still, Cal didn’t like to think of the creature that could do damage like that. It seemed that the hiding game was well a truly over. Something wanted in, and with the force it was demonstrating, it was going to get its wish.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Cal detached the chem-bomb from his hip and signaled to the others to let them know he was pulling the pin. If the explosive heated the door sufficiently, it might discourage the creature. Silently, he began to count down the long detonation. Fifty seconds.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Forty seconds.

  Thump. Thump.

  Twenty-five.

  It was at eleven seconds that it all went wrong.

  Having picked his spot, Cal was about to toss the explosive when a shriek pierced the air behind him. It seemed the sinister thumping had become too much for Billy’s drug-addled mind. Cal turned to see that the young scavenger had wriggled out of Pryce’s hold and was already stumbling away from him, straight toward the twisted breach at the far end of the room.

  Trying his best to intercept him, Cal leaped back, dropped low, and spun, sweeping the fleeing man’s legs out from under him. The move was effective, but it also caused him to fumble his hold on the chem-bomb. The little glass explosive bounced a few times before rolling away. Without waiting to see if Billy was going to get up again, Cal dove at the bomb and managed to give it a little push with his outstretched fingers.

  The blast wasn’t loud, but the sudden, yellow blaze was blinding in the near dark. Shielding his eyes from the worst of the glare, Cal was relieved to see that the detonation had occurred almost at the base of the dented door, the flames already licking up its side. There was a drawn-out pause as they all listened for continued thumping. None came, so Cal decided it was worth almost burning his face off for.

  Rolling to his feet, Cal saw Billy demonstrating a desperate scramble, his long limbs giving him the appearance of some strange insect. Hysterical words were spilling from his mouth. “Can’t do it, can’t do it, can’t, can’t, can’t…”

  Orisho took a single step in the young scavenger’s direction, but with a glance at the dark, mangled breach at the far end of the room, he stopped. For a moment, Cal thought that his big teammate might run forward and chop the scavenger in two. But he moved back again, seeming to decide that the man wasn’t worth the effort.

  Billy’s life was spared—at least for few moments.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Managing to find his feet, Billy rushed at the dark breach at the end of the room like it was his salvation. He didn’t slow for a second, just burst through the gap as if en route to a haven of pure, incorruptible safety. The darkness swallowed him in an instant. Cal cursed the man’s foolishness; he’d stewed his brain, and now, it seemed they were all to pay the price. With a steady breath, he leveled his rifle at the gap, which seemed to yawn ba
ck at him like the mouth of some giant ghoul. For a few seconds, there was nothing to be seen and nothing to be heard other than the popping of the little chemical inferno to his right.

  Then, Billy cried out from the blackness, the sound cutting a sharp path through the gloom.

  An eerie echo followed.

  Then another cry, muffled this time and trailed by a high-pitched gurgling sound.

  Then silence.

  The first snake burst through the gap like a seeker missile turned flesh. It was smaller than some they’d seen but larger than most. Cal shot it twice in the head, sending it into a contorted frenzy. Trained as they were, the whole team kept their eyes on the gap, not allowing the writhing snake to disrupt their focus.

  A distant sound began to tumble through the gap: a strange, rough thrum that rapidly built in intensity.

  Then they came, emerging from the black like a surging reptilian army. All had the same glassy, white scales, making them glimmer in the artificial light like creatures of the deep. But their proportions were not so uniform—some were no thicker than a wrist, but others appeared large enough to swallow a human whole.

  Bolt rifles erupted into a popping tumult. Swords flashing, Orisho and Wilson roared battle cries. Usually more of a silent fighter, Cal joined his friends in making his presence known, unleashing his primal voice as well as round after round from his weapon—a welcome din after all that forced silence. One of the chem-bombs ignited in the center of the room, causing chaos among the attacking beasts. Cal didn’t see who threw it, but he mentally saluted their aim. Many of the snakes burst into writhing balls of flame, and those that escaped recoiled, some attacking each other as they retreated from the heat. The bomb was proving as effective as Ebner had promised. But through the flames, Cal could see more of the creatures entering the room…a lot more.

  Without removing his eye from his rifle’s sights, Cal began moving carefully to his left, putting himself in front of the civilians. “Back up toward the western door,” he shouted, barely pausing with his shots. Having learned marksmanship from a young age with a similar old-fashioned weapon, he wielded the bolt rifle with ease, each shot finding its mark. Some of the larger snakes, however, took the hits with little more than a brief recoil, their heightened aggression overwhelming any injury.

  Fortunately, the attacking beasts didn’t prove so resilient to the veterans’ swords. The two men cleaved a circle of destruction around them, blue blood arching and spiraling through the air. Pale, scaly flesh pitching this way and that as it came apart to land twitching on the floor. But the snakes were countless now, legions of them swarming into the far end of the room. Another bomb went off, once again lighting up the room like a flare. Some of the beasts began evading Orisho and Wilson’s defense. A large one came at Cal. He shot it three times before it died. Another passed him on his left. He twisted, rifle poised, but Couter was already there, stopping it with two fast, efficient shots. Confident in his new recruit’s abilities, Cal took a second to assess their situation. Ebner, Campbell, and the two remaining scavengers were pressed into to corner of the room, their recent past seeming forgotten as the overwhelming threat closed in. All of the spite had left Durron’s face and was completely smothered by cold, all-consuming fear.

  Dispatching a relatively small attacker with a single shot, Cal looked up to see Becker practically toss Christie at Campbell. Spinning the make-shift spear once in her grip, she thrust it at a snake that seemed to have burst out of nowhere to attach itself to Couter’s armored leg. Behind them, Poots used the old pistol to shoot two more with careful, considered aim. With no time to observe the outcome of these fights, Cal turned back into the room and almost fell into a trance as he fired shot after shot, reloading the old rifle with swift efficiency. Before long, the rifle’s last mag ran dry. Without missing a beat, he threw the weapon aside and reached over his shoulder to seize his spear. Barely a second passed before he found himself having to swing it at another snake…then another. Trying his best to retain his defense, he continued to sweep his eyes over the chaos, attempting to put some order to it. Another bomb went off. Five left, he thought grimly. The explosive was well-thrown, and the collective heat of the burning chemicals was effectively keeping most of the writhing mass at bay. But heat wasn’t the only thing being emitted; acrid fumes were fast filling the air and assaulting the senses. Cal could feel his eyes beginning to sting, tears fast turning the room into a blur.

  Hoping it wasn’t a trick of his failing vision, Cal allowed himself the hope that the number of snakes was diminishing. Moving forward to gain a better view, he saw that many of the creatures were abandoning the attack and retreating from the flames back through the twisted breach. But how long would the heat last? Glancing to his right, he saw that the intense chemical burn from his own bomb had already dwindled to a small spattering of lazy flames.

  Wiping his eyes, he quickly joined Franco and jerked his head toward the western door. “Corporal, get that door unlocked.” The fumes were starting to attack his throat, and the order came out more as a loud rasp than the shout he’d intended. “And save the rest of your ammo; we might need it later.”

  Slinging his rifle over his back, Franco nodded his understanding and backed up toward the door.

  “Orisho, Wilson, fall back.” Cal made the order as loud as he could while doing his best not to fall into a coughing fit. Then, he took his own advice and backed up. Slowly, the two veterans followed him. Both were breathing hard but still managing to defend against those beasts consumed with enough bloodlust to endure the heat. Cal glanced back. Franco was already working on the exit’s pneumatic locks. The civilians were huddled next to him while Couter, Poots, and Becker stood facing outward, guarding them like lions protecting a pride.

  Slinging his spear over his shoulder, Cal moved between them. “Ebner, Campbell, tear up some fabric for our mouths.” Without waiting for an acknowledgement, he took hold of the door handle. “Pryce, make yourself useful, and grab that other handle.”

  Pryce didn’t move. He just stared dumbly at the door with those bug eyes of his.

  Durron hissed something at him and shoved him out of the way to grab the handle himself. He glared at Cal but appeared willing and ready.

  “Let us know when, Corporal,” Cal said as he braced himself. The doors were heavy, designed to open under motorized power, and took a fair bit of muscle to shift.

  “Ten seconds,” Franco shouted.

  “Just a few inches at first,” Cal said to Durron. “We need to see what’s going on before we burst through.”

  Durron didn’t bother acknowledging the words, and Cal resisted the urge to plant his elbow in the man’s face.

  Some of the others had begun to cough. Cal could sympathize. His own throat felt like he’d swallowed an active plasma torch. Tears were streaming from his eyes, but he kept his blurry vision on the handle. He could hear blades swishing through the air, dull thuds sounding as they met flesh. Assuming their eyes were suffering like his own, Cal suspected that Orisho’s and Wilson’s strikes must be increasingly reliant on luck.

  There was a clunk followed by an urgent hiss.

  “We’re in,” Franco shouted, his voice raw. “Pull.”

  Cal heaved, and Durron grunted with effort as he did the same. A small wave of relief hit Cal as the doors began to move. He’d half expected the battering of the base to have left them jammed. “Okay, enough,” he shouted to Durron. Without letting go of the handle, he quickly leaned forward to peer through the gap. An instant later, his heart almost breached his chest as a set of jaws slammed against the separated metal just inches from his face. The snake was definitely eager for a taste, and despite his blurry vision, Cal caught a glimpse of countless others waiting in line. “Close it,” he shouted, his arms straining as he desperately tried to push the doors shut. “Fucking close it.”

  “It’s our only bloody escape,” Durron hissed, his rasping voice seeming to burn worse than the fumes.
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br />   “Durron, you bastard,” Cal growled through the strain. The damn fool was still trying to pull them open.

  Fortunately, the scavenger’s attempts failed the instant Franco slammed his fist into his solar plexus and sent him reeling. The corporal quickly commandeered the handle, and together, he and Cal heaved the doors shut.

  Both of them staggered back. Cal shook his spinning head, trying to clear it. Whatever the hell they were breathing was really starting to take its toll. If they didn’t find another way out soon, the fumes would probably render them all unconscious within minutes. Trying to dab his eyes clear, he looked toward the other door that led to the stairwell. At its base, the flames from his bomb had become almost nonexistent. But the dent in the door didn’t appear to have increased in size. Perhaps the snake responsible for the damage had gone, the robustness of the door having proved too much. Or maybe it had been put off by the escalating heat. Cal stared at the door for a moment, weighing up its viability as an escape route. Whatever snake had made the dent must have been far larger than any they’d faced yet. What if it was still lying in wait?

  Someone gripped him by the shoulder, pulling him from the chilling thought. He turned to see Campbell holding out a small, torn cloth. She already had one pressed to her own mouth, as did the others, including, encouragingly, Christie. Gratefully accepting it, Cal shared a look with Franco that fortunately didn’t require words. The corporal appeared grim but determined as they both glanced up at the services tunnel above them. The tunnel hung suspended from the high ceiling and stretched from one end of the room to the other. But it didn’t stop there. During his earlier recon of the base, Cal had observed it running the entire circumference of the observation deck. Ironically, he’d ordered Franco to seal it up for fear it would act as a potential access route for the snakes. Now, it was perhaps their best chance of escape.