by Paul Cave
The mechanic opened his mouth, but in fairness he couldn’t be. “I can’t,” he admitted. “But he’s got a better chance than anyone else.”
“I don’t care. I’m still going.”
“Alice, this is stupid. You know what the Major said. And he’s counting on us.”
Her head dropped and her shoulders slumped forwards. “But you don’t understand.”
“Understand what?” he asked.
She looked up, directly into his eyes. “I love him, Squirrel. I love him.”
The desperate look on her face twisted his heart with a spasm of pain. He’d be damned if he was going to let anything hurt her. He wrapped his fingers around hers, and then he pushed both their hands forward to activate the button.
The cavern groaned above their heads as a huge section of rock dropped away from the ceiling with a thunderous grating noise. They felt the air around them sucked upwards into the crack.
“What are you doing?” Alice asked, as the mechanic strode towards the truck.
“I’m coming with you,” he replied.
“What?”
He turned and surprised himself when he found his arms reaching out to gently take her face. “I love you too, both you and Elliot. You’re my two best friends and I don’t want to see anything happen to either of you. So I’m going with you. To be sure nothing does.”
Alice reached up and gently squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”
“We’re both probably gonna be shot for insubordination. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” she replied.
His hands dropped from her face and he looked from one parked vehicle to the next. They were all serviced, repaired and refuelled, and ready to go. There was nothing left for him to do but stay here with the rest of the survivors and wait for Ezekiel’s attack. At least if he helped Alice and Elliot, he’d be doing something more than just hanging around, and if they made good time then they would be back before the Major even noticed they were missing. Or so he told himself, in an attempt to justify his recklessness.
“Are you sure?” Alice asked.
“Yeah,” he replied, and he was.
“Okay, let’s go.” Alice passed him and stepped onto the ramp.
“Wait a minute,” Squirrel said, “let me drive. I know just how far to push it without damaging the suspension.”
The two massive pistons that held the carved platform hissed with a compression of air, slowing the descent of the rock. The huge slab of rock slowly dropped to the floor. With a hollow boom it came to rest at the side of the truck.
They climbed in and Squirrel spun a half circle before backing up onto the loading platform. He felt a slight bump as the wheels drove over the ramp and the suspension groaned slightly under the strain. Alice looked across the cabin and gave Squirrel an anxious look. The mechanic flashed his most confident smile. “Hey, don’t worry. She’ll hold.” His hands tightened around the steering wheel and his lips moved without sound: Baby, please hold together.
They sat there in silence, listening to the engine purr, then the timing mechanism kicked in and the platform lifted them away from the cavern floor as it began its ascent towards the black hole above. The platform reached its zenith and the dark fissure swallowed both Alice and Squirrel whole.
***
Rebecca brought them to a halt. “What do you think?” she asked the mutt at her feet. Scratch sniffed the air around them. Woof! They were standing in the narrow chamber of an access tunnel, leading away from one of the main passageways.
The dog padded away from Rebecca and entered an opening that lay to one side. She followed him and found herself in a cramped storeroom. Most of the inventory consisted of empty cardboard boxes, their contents long since removed, tins of various sizes and colours, and a couple of neglected weapons had been left leaning against the wall, now collecting dust.
Scratch sniffed around, and then sneezed violently as the dust tickled the insides of his nostrils.
“Quiet… ” Rebecca whispered with exaggerated caution. She reached out to find a light switch. The naked lamp above burnt a narrow hole through the darkness. She waded deeper into the room with the mutt following close behind. They nestled among the boxes and cartons, and Rebecca knelt, bringing herself down to the dog’s level.
She reached inside her pocket and withdrew an object, which sparkled in a bright rainbow, “It’s beautiful,” she said, with childlike awe. The water inside sloshed about and the colours played across the walls of rock like bright dancing apparitions. The crystal clarity of the colours stunned Rebecca. She had never seen a real rainbow and only from books did she know they even existed.
Scratch stepped closer to prod at the object with the tip of his nose. It fell over and the kaleidoscope of colours vanished. He growled at it, his little sharp teeth visible. A vile stench radiated from the thing’s surface.
“Hey, what are you doing?” she asked.
The little mutt pushed the thing again and it rolled away from him, disappearing under a pile of rubbish. Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat. She jumped to her feet before diving into the pile of cardboard boxes and junk. “Where’s it gone?” she moaned. She began to scatter the rubbish.
Abruptly, the dog’s ears pricked up. He released a short, sharp bark in an attempt to get Rebecca’s attention. “Not now, boy,” she said. He padded to the entrance and his nose twitched, for a foul scent emanated from the tunnel. It was the same stench that he could smell on Rebecca’s treasure. He scampered back and barked a second alarm.
“I’ve got to find it,” Rebecca said.
Scratch returned to the tunnel entrance. The smell had gotten stronger, a pungent stench that irritated his nose. And, as he listened, he heard the faint sound of footsteps. Someone had followed them. He raced back to the girl and jumped up at her, forcing her to stop her search.
“What is it?” she asked with irritation. The thing’s pretty colours had made her feel happy. And now it was lost. She knew she should have kept it to herself. “Not now!” she told him, and turned her back on him.
Scratch jumped up and pulled on the girl’s cuff. Her arm whipped away from her body. The momentum almost pulled her off her feet. The mutt tugged at her jacket and managed to drag her further into the clutter. She snatched her arm back and the material of her jacket tore away from her wrist. A long tail of cloth held them together.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Rebecca moaned miserably, “it’s totally ruined. What are you trying to do? First you… ” She continued to rant on, unaware of the imminent danger.
The footsteps were getting louder. Why couldn’t she hear them? Scratch released her and growled. He gave her his most intimidating snarl, and this unexpected act of real aggression ended any complaint. The silence carried the footsteps to them.
Rebecca turned to the opening. A mighty cough echoed like thunder along the tight tunnel, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She’d heard that cough before. The roar sounded again, but this time it was followed by a whisper of warning.
“Be quiet, or you’ll wake the dead,” someone cursed.
A second person spoke, but the words were a mixture of misery and confusion.
Rebecca recognised one of the voices instantly. The woman from sickbay! She spun full circle. Panic tightened her chest as she struggled to draw breath.
Scratch bolted into action. He jumped up and snatched the loose material that hung from her wrist. He backed away and this time Rebecca followed. She allowed herself to be led to the rear of the storeroom. They worked their way into the cardboard boxes, hurrying now, taking refuge within the mess. A large box toppled over in front of them and Rebecca quickly dragged it over before pulling it up over their heads, hiding both in darkness.
The footsteps arrived at the entrance.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Inside the lobby all was still. Their boots echoed hollowly off the marble floor. The place looked like it had been deserted for a l
ong, long time. Most of the walls had been reduced to bare brick, and the once fine wallpaper had pulled away in entire sheets, as if in search of a better, more fruitful setting. A bombardment of neglect had created a field of craters in the marble flooring, and portraits had turned into mouldy caricatures, their original subjects buried under a coating of decay.
Jacob flattened himself against a pillar and then pointed the assault rifle into the shadows. He looked across the lobby to find Lieutenant Hutson taking up a similar position. Near the entrance and, hidden behind the reception desk, Ben had the huge Browning machinegun trained on the doorway, ready to welcome any unexpected visitors. The last of the ammo-belts hung like a brass serpent from the weapon, its bite deadlier than any snake’s.
Stepping around the stone pillar, Jacob silently skipped to the next. He leaned back and felt the support of cool marble at his back. He signalled to Hutson and she moved forward, reducing the distance to the stairwell. Together, they moved from one pillar to the next, eventually reaching the foot of the stairs. Jacob turned and called for Ben to follow.
The huge gunner lifted the Browning off the scarred desktop and quickly joined his companions.
“So far so good,” Ben said.
“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Jacob remarked, looking at the darkness the stairs had to offer.
The tracker took the first of many steps.
“Wait a minute…” Ben called. The weight of the huge Browning had him pinned down. Ben rested the machinegun over his shoulder. After taking only a couple of steps his face became a bright red mask of exertion.
“We need to find somewhere to store that,” Jacob said.
Ben gave him a ‘no shit’ look but just said, “Yeah, but where?”
“Wait a minute,” Hutson called. She was at the foot of the stairwell, watching their rear. “What about in here?” she said, pointing towards two slabs of bronze. One of the doors had popped out of its runners, hanging awkwardly, while the other remained shut. A slice of darkness cut the elevator doors in two. Anything could be lurking inside.
“Maybe I should wait here?” Ben asked, hopefully.
“No way,” Jacob said, “this was your plan, remember? I’d be halfway to Ezekiel’s camp by now, if I hadn’t agreed to join in on this stupid trip.”
Ben heaved the Browning off his shoulder and stood facing the closed doors. He planted his feet and then said, “Okay, open her up.”
Both Hutson and Jacob slung their weapons over their shoulders. In comparison to the Browning, both weapons looked insignificant and fragile.
Jacob pushed his fingers through the crack. The metallic surface felt cold and greasy, and for a second he thought his fingers would slip away. He ran his hand higher, finally finding a better grip. He watched as Hutson did the same, then nodded. “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
The gunner grinned malevolently. “Rock and roll,” he whispered.
“Okay, on three,” Jacob said. “One … Two … Thr-”
A sudden deafening shriek erupted from within the elevator. The door on Jacob’s side buckled outwards, knocking him to the floor. Hutson felt the door on her side swell. Then a hot breath brushed against her fingers. She snatched her hand away as a set of oversized fangs clammed themselves around the edge of the door.
Ben tensed, and Hutson read his intentions. She’d just about dived for cover when multiple pockmarks scarred the door at her side. The bullets ripped into the brass door, peppering holes in a left-to-right pattern, then continued across and into the surrounding brickwork.
Gun-smoke filled the air in a thick, choking cloud of cordite. Ben waited for the cloud to break, saw something move and unleashed another barrage. More chunks of red-hot metal and masonry flew.
“OKAY! OKAY! Nice shootin’, Partner!” Jacob yelled, his ears ringing.
The taut ligaments in Ben’s finger relaxed. The sound of gunfire ceased instantly.
“What are you trying to do, shoot the whole fucking building?”
Ben grinned sheepishly. “Never can be too sure.”
“Jeez… ” Jacob said, trying to breathe through his teeth, and spare his lungs from the cloud of dust and cordite. As the smoke parted, he found the ammo-belt almost empty. Dozens of spent shells were strewn about Ben’s feet like fat, shiny scarabs.
Jacob slipped the assault rifle into his hands. Checking the weapon was on fully-automatic, he pointed it into the shadows. Firing a couple of shots at point-blank range, he said, “Never can be too sure,” towards Ben.
“Heard that,” Ben commented.
Jacob waited for the smoke to clear. Then stepped into the elevator car. Inside, the floor-to-ceiling mirrors had been reduced to cracked slivers of dark glass. At irregular intervals, he found jagged bullet holes, which had punched through the doors and then exited via the rear of the compartment. There was nothing else to be found. He spun full circle, as if expecting filthy talons to reach for his throat. The elevator was empty.
Hutson stuck her head inside. “Where’d it go?”
“Where did what go?”
“The thing that did that,” she said. Her rifle jabbed upwards. The top of the elevator looked as if it had been peeled open, from the inside out. The small access panel had gone and the metal around the opening had been torn away like paper and spread out, resulting in a large, ragged hole. Through the hole, both Jacob and Hutson could make out the hint of machinery and the drop of cables. The main cable appeared to twitch and thrash as if someone above was making it move. A recurring metallic twang ran along the cable. Something was using the main cable as an escape rope, something very strong and… damned fast.
Jacob stepped into the centre of the car. He aimed the assault rifle upwards, did his best to keep to the cable’s parallel path, and then fired into the shaft.
Three shots sounded, each one amplified by the enclosed space.
Hutson waited for her ears to stop ringing.
The twang of the cable had stopped.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Wait…” Jacob said, placing his finger over his lips. He tilted his head, straining to hear. A slight sound came from above. It started with just a hint of displaced air. Yet, as it drew closer, the noise became a growing rush of thunder.
“GO!” Jacob ordered, pushing Hutson out of the elevator. She stumbled backwards, tripping over her feet. He stumbled too and they both finished sprawled just outside the booth. In the next instant the elevator imploded with a thunderous boom. The crumpled booth coughed mightily and a great wave of dust rolled out, covering all three in a layer of grime.
Ben staggered back, the impact almost dropping him to the floor. He found his footing and steadied himself. The cloud of dust began to disperse. It revealed two figures crumpled on the lobby floor.
“Jacob? Lieutenant?”
Neither of them moved.
“Guys?”
“Did we kill it?” a dry, rasping voice asked. The dust-ball pulled itself apart, and Jacob turned towards the elevator. Hutson coughed, and a puff of dust trickled away from her blanched lips.
“Did we kill it?” Jacob asked again.
Ben joined them at the entrance. In place of the car was a dark elevator shaft. Stepping cautiously to the edge, he looked down and found that the actual carriage had been crushed into the basement. A large, metal oblong had punched its way through the ceiling, forcing the sides of the elevator inwards, in a concertina effect.
“Well?” Jacob pushed.
Ben pulled his head back inside the lobby. “If you shot a filing-cabinet, then yes – we killed it.”
“What?” Jacob crawled to the edge of the opening. Inching further, he observed what was left of the elevator-carriage. Not a lot. The roof had been completely smashed and the walls had bent inwards. A drawer-and-a-half poked precariously out of the mess. One of the drawers had ruptured and hundreds of sheets of paper fluttered about just below him. Considering the other drawers were also full, the
filing-cabinet must have weighed a ton.
“Shee-yit,” he whistled, and pulled his head back.
“Got ourselves a regular pain-in-the-ass,” Ben commented. He held his hand out and helped first Hutson and then Jacob to their feet.
Jacob looked to Ben and they both raised their eyes heavenwards. Somewhere just above their heads lurked an unknown threat that could jeopardise the entire mission. And it was no ordinary vampire.
“What happened?” Hutson asked, shaking dust out of her hair.
“I think we disturbed something from its sleep,” Ben told her.
“What?” she asked.
“Something is really pissed at us,” Ben responded.
“Yeah, and even stronger than you, friend,” Jacob remarked, with shudder. “A regular pain-in-the-ass indeed.”
“Guess things just became a little more complicated,” Ben stated.
“Just a little,” Jacob agreed. “How many rounds have you got left?”
Ben tilted the Browning to one side. He took a moment to count along the ammo-belt. “Thirty-six.”
Thirty-six, Jacob summarised, it didn’t sound like enough. Not nearly enough. “Make sure they all count.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” Ben promised.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It had been hours since they’d come for the prisoners. And with a sickening dread the woman understood they would not be coming back. That left three out of the original six. Three of the younger ones had been led from the cell by the vampire jailer, Bara, but, unlike the usual routine, they simply hadn’t returned. Those remaining were the teenager, the auburn-haired woman, and a Hispanic girl, who mumbled continually in a tongue neither of them could comprehend.
The Hispanic girl was curled up in the centre, her body soaking up the dampness from the floor like a large sponge. The woman had twice tried to drag the girl to drier ground, but both times she had been met with a barrage of flailing arms and abuse. The girl had slipped into the lonely abyss of madness months ago.
