by Peter Parkin
This time Brett led the way. They half ran, half slid, in their stocking feet along the slippery floor. The sounds were getting closer. They heard yelling now as well and surprisingly, gunfire and some screams.
Suddenly three more green-fatigued figures burst around the corner, but these guys were running backwards, firing their machine guns down the hallway they had just come from.
Then Fiona saw why.
Three gigantic hairy figures burst into the hallway from the connecting corridor and the panicked soldiers fell back against the wall, their guns firing erratically in every direction.
One hapless soldier slid down onto his back, his gun clicking on empty. One of the super-chimps grabbed him by the neck with one hand and twisted and squeezed until his head tore off and rolled along the floor. The creature roared, the blood-curdling sound reverberating along the corridor.
Fiona heard the screams and she was transfixed by the sight. One other soldier who was trying desperately to run in their direction was grabbed from behind and thrown with full force into the wall. He stuck like a blob of jelly against the tile for what seemed an eternity, and then just slid to the floor.
The third marine was holding his own. He had already taken down one of the beasts with his AK47, but then he too went empty. He screamed in agony, turned and ran in the opposite direction. Fiona was startled to see that in less than four steps the two remaining beasts had caught up to him— the speed of the creatures was mind-boggling.
They grabbed him from each side, lifted him into the air and flung him up against the metal ceiling. He fell like a sack of potatoes to the floor and they immediately began devouring him.
The three of them stood frozen in place. What they had just witnessed was horrifying and Fiona knew that they should move, but her feet felt like lead. She looked over at Brett and Avery and was surprised to see that her tough companions were also frozen in terror.
She knew that the two friends had no doubt seen a lot, and done a lot in their lives, but nothing probably compared to this. Human emotions could be suppressed, but they were still always there with everybody—sometimes just under the surface.
Avery awoke from his trance first. He shook Brett and grabbed Fiona by the shoulder. "We have to move."
"I can't lift my feet."
Avery slapped her across the face. "You have to! Make yourself! Find it in yourself!"
Fiona just stared at him.
He slapped her again. This time she felt it, and her feet started to feel lighter.
"Okay, I can do it."
Brett pulled the gun out of her waistband and shoved it into her hand. "This is all we have. Keep it in your hand and don't hesitate to use it. I have extra magazines in my pocket. I think we're going to need them."
They started running again; turning south at the corridor just to the west of the one the marines had come running out of.
Fiona shouted. "Sweet Jesus! Those things are loose! Their doors must have opened when we unlocked Shannon's door."
Brett turned his head toward her as he ran, not bothering to whisper anymore. "There must have been one extra code number that needed to be entered, to isolate the unlocking to only Shannon's door. Looks like I entered the code that opened the labs too."
Avery raised his hand again and they all slid to a stop. He motioned to a recessed doorway. Fiona and Brett flattened themselves against it. Avery jumped into a recess across from them. They waited.
A few seconds later a marine came running past. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught them. He swung around with his machine gun and Brett fired. The young man went down.
Brett walked over to him, bent down, and yanked the gun out of his hand. Fiona could see that the wound was in the soldier's abdomen. He looked up at Brett, stark fear written across his face. He couldn't have been more than twenty-one years old.
Brett said, "I'm not going to kill you, son. Help will be here soon." Fiona heard the sound first, and turned in the direction they had just come. It was a sickening combination of snarling, growling and claws tapping on the tile.
"Oh, God."
Brett quickly raised his pistol and pointed it down at the head of the terrified young soldier. He closed his eyes and fired. Then he made the 'sign of the cross.'
They resumed their run. Four creatures were closing in, but they knew they would stop at the dead soldier. And they did. They heard the sound of claws scraping against the floor as the beasts slid to a stop. Then the stomach-churning sounds of tearing, chewing and slopping. They ran faster.
They came to a junction, and Avery pointed down the west arm of the next hallway. "I think this will lead us in a big half-square back towards where we first entered. We'll have one more turn to make after this."
Brett yelled. "I agree! Let's just get the fuck out of this nightmare!" Fiona had been on the track team at her college, and that was a long time ago. But she never remembered having the speed or the stamina that she had right now. Fear had the adrenaline rushing at such a ferocious rate, that she knew she was breaking records. She took the lead, gun raised to the ceiling as she ran.
Another junction—and another marine. Fiona saw him just an instant before he saw her. He began to swing his machine gun in her direction and yelled, "Stop!" Fiona aimed her gun and fired. The bullet went through his throat and he went down.
Brett ran over and pulled the gun out of his hand and threw it to Avery. They now had two AK47s in addition to their Glocks. They were on the move again.
"The next turn is just up ahead! Watch out for any intersecting corridors!" Avery was running with the AK47 in one hand, the Glock in the other. They passed the next connecting hallway with only thirty yards to go until they'd have to make their next turn. Fiona started to feel like they were going to make it.
Then she went down.
An arm had shot out from the connecting hall and grabbed her by the leg. It held on as she hit the floor, then swung her around until her head hit the wall. She saw stars, and then she saw the beast. It was crouching over her, a pink grotesque tongue hanging out of its mouth, green drool dripping onto Fiona's face.
She raised her gun hand and realized that the gun was gone. The beast seemed to smile as the freaky arm protruding from its chest grabbed her around the throat and squeezed. She could sense its multiple legs sliding up and around her middle, and felt the pressure as they began to tighten. She couldn't breathe. Its two other arms began to stroke her forehead as the third arm continued its quest to choke her to death. She knew she only had seconds left, and despaired at the thought that her compatriots wouldn't be able to fire their guns as the beast was enveloping her.
Suddenly, two additional legs appeared—they were human and they were wrapped around the neck of the monster. It reared back and roared. Brett's legs crossed themselves around the thing's chest, and she could see them begin to squeeze. The pressure eased on her neck as the beast concentrated on the diversion.
Brett's powerful forearms extended outwards, then sped inward against each side of the animal's head. It was already the ugliest thing she'd seen in her life, but it became even uglier as the head crushed into itself. Its eyes bulged out of their sockets and a huge clump of green slime slid down the over-sized tongue and landed on Fiona's head. She screamed.
The beast fell to the side as Brett slid off its back. It died with a sickening sigh. Fiona struggled to get free—the thing's legs were locked around her stomach. Brett pushed her hands out of the way and simply broke each leg one by one. Then he lifted her up by her arms and shoved the errant Glock back into her hand.
He brought his face to within an inch of hers, and stared into her eyes. "Block it out. Don't think about it. We have to move."
Fiona nodded.
They ran, turning north at the next junction. They were almost at the exit. Avery pointed ahead as the next junction came into view. One left turn and they would be near the exit.
Avery motioned with his arm to urge them on, and he sped into th
e next corner, sliding around it in his stocking feet. Brett and Fiona were right behind him, and saw the hairy arm reach out and grab him as he slid.
Fiona gasped as Avery was swung through the air by a seven-foot tall monster. He slammed against the wall sending the AK47 flying, and the beast pounced on him. Avery tried to raise his pistol, but it was swept away by a powerful hand.
Before they could react, the beast tore Avery's right leg away from his body and began to go to work on the other one. He screamed in a way that Fiona never imagined a soldier could scream. She could see that the leg had been ripped away right beneath the hip, and blood and guts were pouring out of the opening. She couldn't help it—she retched.
When she raised her head again she saw Brett. He was spinning, and his foot connected with the creature's head. Fiona heard the crunch of breaking bones, and heard the roar of the beast as he turned in Brett's direction. Brett went into a stance and hit him twice in his gray hairless forehead with his index fingers. The thing looked stunned as blood started gushing out of the gaping holes. He snarled again and moved away from Avery. That's all Brett needed. He picked his machine gun up off the ground and blasted the thing with at least a dozen rounds to the face.
It fell backwards with a resounding thud—Fiona could feel the vibration in the floor. The beast gave a mighty sigh, and died.
Brett knelt beside his friend, took off his jacket and wrapped it around the gaping hole where his right leg used to be. He used the arms of the jacket to tie it around Avery's belt.
He motioned to Fiona. "Help me, Fiona. We'll carry him."
Avery moaned. "No...leave me. I...remember from...the plans. Turn right...at the next corridor...and there's an exit. Go."
"I can't leave you, buddy."
"You...have to...my friend. You...know that. You'll never get away... dragging me."
Brett started to cry, and rubbed his fingers over Avery's forehead, trying his best to soothe him.
Avery smiled. "I love...you...my friend. Go...be safe."
Suddenly, they heard a sickeningly familiar sound. The clip-clop of claws on the tiled floor. They could tell it was close, very close.
Fiona started to shake, her knees felt like they were going to collapse. She looked at Brett and could tell he was in a quandary. He didn't know what to do—for the first time since she'd met him, he was lost. His emotions were getting the better of him. Brett was more human than even he realized.
Avery spoke again. "I...hear them. Go. Now."
Brett lowered his head and nodded agreement.
"Shoot...me...first. Don't...leave me...to them. Hurry."
Brett was sobbing now, tears rolling down his handsome face.
"I can't."
"Yes, you...can. You...have to."
Brett shook his head back and forth. "No."
Fiona rushed to his side and hugged him. "I'll take care of it, Brett." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the cyanide pill. She held it up above Avery and looked at him with a question in her eyes. He nodded and opened his mouth. She gently slipped it inside, placing it in the corner near his molars. Then she leaned over and kissed his lips. "Goodbye, my friend." The clip-clop was getting louder, and Fiona's heart was beating faster. Avery smiled at the two of them and clenched his teeth together. Within seconds, his pupils rolled out of sight and they knew his brain was gone.
Before they resumed their run, Brett stood at attention and saluted. Then he bent down and picked up Avery's AK47. He smiled grimly at Fiona and mouthed the word, "Thanks."
They ran. The creatures were close. Reaching the next intersection, they slid around it at breakneck speed. Fiona shrieked with joy as she saw the gaping opening of an exit door about fifty yards ahead, the rapidly approaching dusk welcoming them on the outside.
She yelled, "Go, Brett, go! We're almost there!"
Fiona turned her head at the sounds behind her. Two giant beasts had just slid around the same corner and were racing towards them at breakneck speed. Clip-clop, snarling—they announced their presence.
She didn't care—she just ran. Brett was ahead of her and they were mere yards away now. Suddenly they heard a metallic groan and the metal door ahead of them slid shut. Brett slammed into the door and banged it with his fist in frustration.
They turned around together and faced the inevitable. The lumbering beasts were only fifty yards away now, and gaining fast.
Brett handed Fiona Avery's machine gun.
"Wait until they're closer and start firing. Aim for their chests. And don't take your finger off the trigger—just keep squeezing."
With shaking hands, she took the gun from Brett and braced it against her chest.
They both looked down the corridor at the monstrous creatures lumbering toward them—snarling, teeth gnashing, claws clip-clopping on the polished tile floor. It was an ominous sight.
And Fiona wished she had two more cyanide pills.
CHAPTER FIFTY TWO
Bill Charlton wiped the sweat from his brow for the second time in the past ten minutes. The phone in his damp palm made a squeaky noise as he waited for General Metcalf to answer. He didn't enjoy waiting, and he sure didn't enjoy being out of control. Things were not only reeling out of control fast, but there was nothing he was able to do about it.
"Hello."
"General, it's Bill. Where are we on this? You're not keeping me in the loop."
"Bill, we talked just fifteen minutes ago. Cool your jets."
Bill squinted as a salty drop of sweat drained into his eye. "What's going on, General? Talk to me."
"The latest is basically the same as the last time we talked. I had Shannon on the phone and told him about the imposters. He never said a word, but then I heard some scuffling noises, a grunt, and the crash of the phone as it presumably hit the floor. I lost the signal, and haven't been able to connect with the lab again since—either by landline or cell."
"So, we're in the dark."
"Well, we won't be for long."
Bill perked up. "Why? What's happening?"
"I can't assume that the marines at the lab are able to respond. Horton and his team may have eluded them or even taken them out already—if he's as good as you say he is."
"He is."
"So, we have to plan on the basis that they're out of commission. I made a few enquiries after you and I first talked, and the closest marines we have to Nevis are on the island of Puerto Rico right now for some training exercises. I ordered two teams of them down to Nevis."
"How long will it take them?"
"They should be on site right now. I've briefed the leaders. There's no way that Horton and his team would have taken the ferry over from St. Kitts. They would have arranged their own transportation. So, our teams will keep an eye out for a boat that seems to be out of place—it's almost dark there now so there shouldn't be too many boats out on the water. I've told them to keep a particular eye out for any boat that seems to be cruising back and forth, waiting."
"Good. Good. I'm encouraged by this, General. Are they equipped to deal with this?"
Metcalf chuckled. "They are marines, Bill. Get serious—of course they're equipped. We're sending two teams of four. The craft we had available are a 50-foot ASPB, and a 50-foot MK2. And those boats are fast."
Bill blew through his teeth in frustration. "Speak in English, General. What the hell are ASPB and MK2?"
"Sorry. One is an assault patrol boat, and the other's a patrol craft. Both are equipped with machine gun mounts. We tried to load on some rocket launchers but no go. Maintenance was out of date on each of them. So, the machine guns will have to do."
"So, tell me, what are their orders as to the 'rules of engagement'?" "Elimination."
*****
Dennis looked at his watch. Three and a half hours now since they left the boat—he was already well past the three-hour limit that Brett had given him.
He paced back and forth on the bridge, stopping occasionally to gaze towards shore hoping
to see any sign of life. It was so eerily quiet. He knew that if they were racing back he would hear them. Only two cars had approached the pier in the last hour and both had gotten his hopes up, only to have them dashed when they kept on driving.
Dennis picked up the binoculars and scanned back and forth along the beach. Nothing. No romantic strollers, no evening swimmers. He thought this was the strangest island he'd ever been to.
There were no signs of danger either, which reaffirmed his decision to just stay put and wait despite Brett's instructions to the contrary. It was getting dark now; he'd probably see their headlights coming before he heard them.
Dennis sat down in the Captain's chair and cracked open a can of pop.
Then he lit a cigarette, his tenth in the last hour. After having quit for ten years, the last month had driven him to take up the habit again, something he wasn't proud of at all. But he rationalized that if it made him feel better, then it was an essential vice right now.
He perked up at the sound of another car engine, at first faint but getting louder with each second. It was definitely coming in his direction.
Dennis jumped off the boat and stood on the pier...waiting...hoping he'd be hugging Fiona at any moment.
His hopes sunk quickly as an orange and white police car pulled up at the end of the pier. Two black uniformed officers got out and started walking in his direction. As they got closer Dennis noticed both unsnapping the safety leathers on their gun holsters. Dennis was glad that he'd left his holster on the dash of the boat. He would have looked mighty suspicious, even more suspicious than he already did, if he'd had a gun attached to his hip.
He smiled at them as they approached. They didn't smile back. Dennis knew that police officers on these little Caribbean islands were poorly trained, and while they probably earned more than the average islander, their wages were still pitiful.
Most of them earned the real money with 'extras.' Payoffs, extortion. He'd spent some time years ago helping to train a new roster of officers in the Bahamas. After a month, there he was glad to get home, home to where people took their jobs seriously and wanted to work hard. Maybe it was the heat that made them lazy, he didn't know. All he knew was that the only thing they seemed to care about was how powerful their shiny new uniforms looked. They cared only about 'looking important.'
