by T W Iain
His muscles complained when he pushed his body up from the ground. But he stood, and then he ran.
Brice heard grunts behind him, and the coppery tang of blood rose in the air. He didn’t turn, though. He had to help his friends. And…and Keelin was involved. She was here. Brice knew that instinctively. She was here, and she was doing what she could to help. Just like she had in Haven—alone, but fixing that craft.
He turned to the Hermes, equidistant from the Proteuses and the crates, forming the third point of a triangle.
And in the trees, over the far side of the drop zone, there was movement, traces moving fast.
More ghouls.
He was almost at the Proteus when he glanced over his shoulder. The two ghouls clashed again. One of them—Ronat—swung, her talons biting hard into Tess’ side. But Tess moved with the attack, her own talons powering down, sinking into Ronat’s neck. A jet of crimson shot out, and Ronat staggered.
But she wasn’t down. Her fingers still rested on Tess’ side, and now she pulled that hand back sharply, her talons ripping through cloth and flesh.
Tess roared as she thrust her head forward, mouth open.
And she clasped her mouth onto the wound in Ronat’s neck.
Brice watched, transfixed, as Tess held Ronat’s quivering body tight. Ronat’s arms flailed, her talons tearing at Tess. But the wounds were superficial, and did nothing to stop Tess draining Ronat’s blood.
Ronat collapsed to the ground in a heap.
Tess howled, and her head came round, her mouth and chin stained red. She saw Brice and smiled.
Tess laughed, but she didn’t come for Brice. He ran, scrambled up the first Proteus he came to, and lay on the roof. From here, he could see the whole of the drop zone.
To his right was the Hermes, silent and still. To his left, the other Proteus, the one with his friends. A short distance from this was the crate. And all around was the empty space of the drop zone, grass and mud, surrounded by trees.
Only it wasn’t empty. Ronat’s body lay motionless, the ghoul called Tess standing over it. She licked her lips, gave the body a kick, walked back to the Proteus.
And in the distance, even now bursting from the trees, came six ghouls. They didn’t run, but they walked fast.
Brice’s body shuddered, from adrenaline and lactic acid build-up. With every breath pain pulsed through him. His clothing clung to his skin, and he didn’t know if that was through sweat or blood.
As Tess strode across the grass, her eyes fixed on Brice. He groaned. There was no way he could defeat her. And then she’d attack his friends in the Proteus.
He could see the hatch from his vantage point, and he now noticed the dark line that appeared along one side. The darkness grew as the hatch opened a slither. A thin black tube poked out. The end flashed, and a sharp crack split the air.
Tess jerked, blood spraying from the wound in an arm. She stepped back, found her balance, and looked to the partially opened hatch. Even from this distance, Brice could hear her cold, angry snarl.
The second shot tore a wound in her side, and she roared, doubling over and twisting. But she remained on her feet.
The other ghouls sprinted. They came close, but whoever held the weapon in the Proteus opened fire on them, volleys of cracks sending the ghouls dancing, sprays of red mist erupting as they were hit. And in their traces Brice felt…not pain, but the knowledge of being wounded.
None of the ghouls fell. But as they sprinted, they altered their course.
The weapon sticking out of the hatch followed them round to the crate, spitting fire. One of the ghouls did stagger, and only a colleague stopped it from falling. But they didn’t slow down.
The weapon fell silent as the ghouls disappeared round the side of the crate. Brice looked down, saw that Tess had joined them. Seven ghouls, in a defensive position.
The Proteus’ hatch was fully-open now. Soldier stood firm, Tychon raised to her shoulder as she scanned the area. Siren was by her side, bouncing about. The Preben in her hand jerked as she took the occasional shot. The metal of the crate crunched when they hit, but they did no major damage.
Apart from those sounds, everything was quiet.
And then a dark shape caught Brice’s eye—a ghoul, moving away from the crate, heading to the trees. He waited for Soldier or Siren to take a shot, but none came.
Because they couldn’t see the runner. Brice was higher up. From the hatch, they couldn’t see the far side of the crate.
The ghoul reached the treeline, and then it disappeared into the shadows. Brice followed its trace as it moved round.
Round to where it could approach the Proteus from the rear. To where it could reach the craft without being spotted.
The cracking from the weapons wasn’t loud, but each time Soldier fired, Deva jumped. Her hand slipped from the cog too many times, and Siren yelled at her—when she wasn’t berating Piran and Eljin, or complaining about Soldier’s shooting.
But Deva opened the hatch, and Siren joined Soldier. The woman yelled triumphantly every time the Preben jerked in her hand, and when Deva peered out, she expected to see fallen bodies. But there were none.
“They’re running!” Siren screamed. “We’ve got them scared! They’re hiding. Yeah, not so tough now, are you?” Siren’s gun barked loudly as she let off a volley of shots. Over the cracks, Deva heard metallic thuds.
In the bridge, Piran and Eljin were still hunched over the screen, Piran tapping away, shaking his head.
Siren fired again, followed by more thuds. Deva craned her neck to see the crate. The closest surface was pocked.
“How much ammo do we have?” she asked.
“Enough to send these ghouls back to the hell they came from!” Siren sent more pellets into the crate.
Deva doubted that, but she daren’t say anything. Instead, she eased along the wall and through into the bridge.
“How’s it going?” she asked Piran, careful not to lean in too close. People could be protective of their work.
He shrugged. “It’s not. No way through this extra security. Not without a bit of inside help.”
“So no way to fly this thing?” She turned to Eljin. It was a pointless question, because she knew the answer even before he shook his head.
“We’re screwed,” he mumbled. “That psycho might as well turn the gun on all of us. Get the job over and done with.” There was no animation in his voice, and his face was a pale mask.
Piran took his eyes from the screen and looked at Deva. “How are you holding up?”
“Okay.” She paused as Siren let loose a string of insults, many of which Deva doubted were biologically possible. “Considering.”
That got a smile from Bug. “Yeah. At least you got us inside this tin can. Guess we all owe you.”
“It’s what I do.” The line sounded forced, and she swallowed.
“Hey, Dart! You ready to fly this thing?” Siren’s voice was far too loud.
“Still working on it,” Piran called back.
“Wasn’t talking to you. And stop distracting him, Fairy.” Siren let loose another volley of shots, punctuated by wordless yells, before continuing. “If you’re not going to pilot at the moment, Dart, get up here and make yourself useful. See anything grey, blast it away.” She laughed, like that rhyme was a great joke.
Piran put a hand on Eljin’s arm. “I’ll give you a call if I get anywhere. But…stay out of trouble, yeah? It looks like those things are coming for us, get behind something. Or someone.” He said that last bit between clenched teeth, and his eyes darted unmistakably towards Siren.
Eljin nodded. He bent down, picking up one of the two weapons on the floor of the cabin. As he rose, he clicked something on the weapon he held, just by the trigger. Deva had to assume it was a safety catch. She glanced to where she’d left her own gun, on the floor in the cabin. That toy didn’t even need a safety catch.
“You can get it working, Piran. I know
you can.” Eljin’s eyes moistened as he spoke, and he swallowed, his throat bobbing. Then he strode into the cabin and took up a position on the far side of Siren. He raised his own gun, held it steady in both hands, and took a single shot. When it hit the crate the sound was explosive.
Soldier brought her hand-gun up, and it clicked. She looked at it, cursing, then threw it to the floor and swung the other weapon from her back and into her hands. She let loose a burst of shots, and the sound they made against the crate reverberated around the Proteus. It almost sounded like the craft had been hit.
There was another crash, from the roof. Then a sharp metallic grinding.
“What’s that?” Siren yelled.
Deva knew. She recognised that sound. The brute-force method of working with metal. It was the sound of something being wrenched open.
Without thinking, she grabbed Piran’s weapon from the floor. She flicked a switch by the trigger, just like Eljin had, and heard something snap into place. Then she walked into the cabin, to the emergency hatch.
Her hand shook as she reached up and unclasped the inner hatch, letting it fall back on its hinges to slam against the wall. She ignored the shouts from Siren, and with a dry throat she saw daylight leak in from above.
Trembling, Deva aimed the heavy weapon to the sky.
As soon as Brice saw the ghoul burst from the trees and race to the Proteus, he jumped. His friends were there, and he couldn’t let them get into any more danger.
He hit the ground, stumbling, his whole body aching. His legs were heavy, and he gritted his teeth, forcing himself on.
But he was no match for the ghoul. The creature tore across the open ground, and bounded onto the roof of the Proteus. Brice heard the crash when he was only half-way between the two craft.
The ghoul jumped, and Brice thought he saw the Proteus shake. Then it bent down and grabbed a section of the roof.
The emergency hatch.
Brice reached the Proteus and reached up, grabbing metal with hands that throbbed white heat. He scrambled his feet, gasping loudly, his heart hammering, and he climbed.
The ghoul was bent over, muscles bulging tightly against its jacket. Metal screeched as it pulled the hatch back, a ragged half-circle that slowly grew.
<Like food in the can.>
The words appeared in Brice’s mind, just like when he’d heard the inner thoughts of others. More followed.
<Just get on with it, Occia. Don’t forget you’re only a distraction.>
That was a different voice. It must have come from one of the ghouls hiding behind the crate.
He heard more screeching metal, but this wasn’t from the emergency hatch. This was further away.
The ghoul had mentioned a distraction. They wanted those in the Proteus away from the hatch, occupied with something else, so that they didn’t see…didn’t see the crate.
It made horrible sense.
When Brice had looked into the crate, the two ghouls hadn’t been alone. Because the drop, and the scramble for supplies, had been interrupted. The crate had not been emptied.
If the ghouls got hold of weapons, what could stop them rushing the Proteus?
<You can’t expect me to open this up and leave? Why can’t I have some fun too?>
The ghoul on the roof leaned in, bending down, resting its hands on its knees. It roared again, the sound reverberating through the metal beneath Brice’s feet.
And then it threw itself backward. The sound of rapid gunfire echoed from the hatch. There were pings as some of the pellets hit metalwork.
Someone under the hatch, firing up.
<Sneaky.> There was something close to admiration in its voice. <But let’s draw their fire.>
It shuffled closer to the hatch again, holding itself tense. It smiled.
Brice rose to his feet, unsteady, one arm out. The other dipped to his waist. The beast reached the lip of the hatch as Brice unsheathed the knife. He tightened his grip, his fingers fitting smoothly around the ridges in the soft plastic.
The ghoul leaned forward, and Brice focused on the back of its neck. He took a step, rocking on his feet.
As the beast stuck its head over the hold, Brice pounced. He aimed the tip of the knife not at the creature, but at the space just behind it. Where it would jerk back, to avoid the gunshots.
His body slammed into the creature, and he stabbed down. Metal bit deep, ripping through cloth, tearing through flesh.
The ghoul buckled. Brice’s fingers slipped from the knife as he fell.
Brice hit the roof, the metallic crash reverberating. It hurt, but he rolled, conscious of the curving edge, and he pushed up onto his feet, springing back, away from the staggering ghoul.
The grey beast looked to its own shoulder, then reached round and yanked the knife free. It let the blade clatter to the Proteus’ roof before reaching into the wound with one finger. Then it removed the finger, crimson-stained, and licked it clean.
“Lucky strike,” it said. It prodded the wound again. “Interesting sensation. Sharp. I think I like it.” Then it smiled. “Let’s see if you can cause some more.”
Brice tensed as the ghoul ran to attack him.
Deva cried out as she squeezed the trigger tight. The weapon—she had no idea what it was called—bucked in her hands, and her arms vibrated as she struggled to hold it steady. The sound was loud, and there were sharp pings from above.
She heard Siren yelling, even over the cracks of the gun and the harsh pings from above, but Deva ignored the woman. She peered up into the sky.
Someone spoke, in a rough voice. Then a grey face appeared.
Deva fired again, and fought to keep the weapon pointed at the hatch. When she released her finger, her arms tingled and her ears rang. A tendril of hot smoke rose from the weapon’s barrel.
There was more talking. She couldn’t make out the words, though. Then there was a crash.
But not from directly overhead. Deva guessed whatever was up there was over the cabin.
Deva concentrated, blocking out Siren’s yells, and the cracks and thuds that came from the main hatch. She focused on the roof of the craft, on the softer clunks as something moved about.
They were definitely over the cabin. That meant they were away from the ripped hatch.
Metal rungs in the wall led to the inner hatch, and continued along the short tube to the twisted metal. But Deva would need both hands for that climb.
She put the weapon on the ground, forcing her fingers to release it. She reached for the rungs, and her fingers curled round them.
This was stupid.
The steps above continued, followed by thuds, but definitely to the front of the Proteus.
She could do this.
Siren shouted, and that might have been directed at Deva, but she ignored it once more. She focused on the cold metal rungs under her hands, on the thin strip of metal for her feet. She climbed, and the ragged, shredded edge of the hole grew closer.
Then sunlight bathed her, and a gentle breeze chilled the sweat on her face.
And she saw the ghoul.
It was fighting, but Deva couldn’t see its opponent. She saw the beast’s back as it lunged forward, then it jerked back. A spray of red flew to one side, and there was a flash of metal.
The ghoul swung a fist, and a smaller shape crumpled to the Proteus’ roof.
Brice. Deva recognised him in an instant.
The ghoul threw itself down, but Brice was already gone. Deva didn’t see him move, but now he was on his feet, and he thrust forward with his knife. The ghoul cried out as the blade sunk into its hip.
But the backhand slammed across Brice’s face. He staggered, barely keeping his footing.
The knife remained in the ghoul’s hip. It reached down and pulled it free.
Then it laughed.
“I’m impressed,” it said, and there was no sign of pain in that voice. “But this can’t go on forever. I have work to do.�
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It threw the knife lazily, and it tumbled through the air, end over end. Brice reached up, eyes on the spinning blade. Deva had no doubt that he’d catch it.
But the moment it was in his hand, the ghoul rushed forward. It slammed into Brice, and metal rang as he crashed to the Proteus’ roof.
The ghoul came down on him, hard. Deva heard a sharp crack, and Brice cried out. His hand opened.
The blade clattered as it slipped form his grip. Deva watched, breath caught in her throat, as it bounced, then disappeared over the edge of the Proteus.
Ryann couldn’t move. Not because of Keelin’s hand on her shoulder—that was a comfort now—but because she was transfixed by what she saw on the screens.
Murdoch cursed when those in the Hermes opened fire. But soon after he was laughing. He made comments about their pathetic shooting. He tapped to change feeds on the screens as one of the NeoGens ran to the Proteus.
There was a moment when the anger returned, and that was when Brice appeared. But the anger was soon submerged under enjoyment again.
The man was a monster.
<I need to end this.>
<He’s distracted. If you can see a way, take it.> Keelin’s voice sounded like it was coming through gritted teeth, and the hand on Ryann’s shoulder. The girl was in pain.
And she’d only be released from her torture when Murdoch was gone.
Ryann knew she’d only get one chance at this. Murdoch had a weapon, but it was holstered. She needed to take him down before he had a chance to react. She needed to disable him as quickly as she could.
On the screen, one of the lens feeds showed the ghouls tearing into the back of the metal crate. Murdoch laughed at that, rubbing his hands together in glee.
Ryann turned her focus to the room. To the distance between herself and Murdoch. To what the room contained.
And she knew what to do.
She’d dip down, away from Keelin’s fingers. At the same time, she’d plant one foot on the wall behind, use that to propel herself forward. She could close the gap between herself and Murdoch in a heartbeat. She’d reach out, one hand grabbing his chin and the other grasping his head.
