Fast (64 page)

            He pulled the trigger and hollered in frustrated anger.

            A trigger went off inside the creature simultaneously. It launched itself through the doorway and straight onto the firing gunman. In the confined space, the man couldn’t dodge sideways in time.

            The creature hit him squarely in the chest, a Volkswagen ramming a midget. The tangled mess ploughed backwards through chairs and coffee tables.

            They slid straight past Gould crouching behind the coffee machine.

           
It’s wet from coming through the flooding offices
, Gould noted abstractly as the creature’s slick body come down on the man like a hunting dog worrying a rabbit.

            Gould watched the ghastly spectacle, mesmerized by the ferocity he’d created. He’d never witnessed his creatures attacking a person.
It’s obscene.

            Cairns wasn’t mesmerized.

            ‘Leave him,’ Cairns yelled, abandoning the gunman to the creature. ‘We need to move.’

            Gould jumped to his feet as the gunmen dashed from the room. Nobody seemed to care what he was doing.
Which way should I go?

King rounded the corner and froze.

            A creature blocked the corridor four meters ahead. King caught his balance without moving another step.

           
This is how Marlin died. Playing distraction while he moved through a maze of tunnels.

            King felt the fury swell through his body.

           
Stay focused
.
Someone will pay for what happened to Marlin, but not if you’re torn to pieces in this corridor.

            He shifted his gaze to study the creature’s posture.

            With limbs spread up the walls, it resembled a giant poised cobra. Every limb was a living tripwire, and King knew if he moved his boots an inch, the cobra would strike.

            From the corridors behind him, back towards the opposite side of the pool room, he heard the deep cracking thump of Coleman’s colt firing a single shot, and then a barrage of answering P190 gunfire.
The Captain found Cairns. That’s one less terrorist to worry about.

            The creature tensed. Thorns screeched down the walls.

            King studied the creature, ready to turn and sprint if the hostile reacted to his presence.

           
Strange
. The creature hadn’t attacked, nor did it move towards the gunfire.
There must be something else nearby. Some other source of vibrations more appealing than me.

            It would have to be close.

            It’s Bora. He must be approaching. But from which direction?

            King strained to hear approaching footsteps. He couldn’t detect Bora’s approach. He wasn’t sure if this was good or bad news. Bora might distract the creature, or he might approach from a direction that pinned King in the corridor.
Should I run?
This thing will move like a rat up a drainpipe
. King made a wish at the creature.
Please go and eat Bora.

            A hatch stood directly opposite King, just four steps away. The urge to leap towards the hatch felt overwhelming. It might as well have been a mile away. He could see the hatch in his peripheral vision. Shut, but from memory, none of the hatches locked.

            Well, at least none of the hatches I’ve passed.

            Something was written across the hatch, but he’d need to turn his head to read it. He didn’t want to make any unnecessary moves. He visualized dashing for the hatch:
four paces, open the hatch, jump through, slam it shut….

            No way, cowboy. The creature will be on you before you even take two steps.

            Or maybe not.

            He had an idea. Slowly, he holstered his pistol and then, ever so slowly, began to crouch down.

#

Bora picked up speed as he heard the gunfire.

           
W
eapon fire came from the far end of the arena.
Cairns found them. Wait, why aren’t the Marines returning fire?

            The Special Forces team wouldn’t relinquish the templates without one hell of a fight. So what attacked Cairns?

            Bora’s faltering steps carried him around the next corner. His answer waited around the T-intersection.

            The creature completely blocked the corridor.

            Eyes widening in surprise, Bora felt his legs involuntarily prepare to run. He raised his hand to halt the line of gunmen.

            ‘Back up, back up, back up,’ he whispered. ‘Quietly.’

            The rearmost man took one careful step, and the creature shifted….

            ‘Stop,’ he hissed.

            The creatures shouldn’t be here already. This isn’t good. Where the hell is Gould’s distraction?

           
Bora remembered the creatures taking out his team in the cinema. In these confined passageways, his men stood no chance. He looked past the creature towards a different kind of movement in the corridor beyond.

            There’s someone else in this corridor. Wait, who the hell is that?
Bora barely spotted the man obscured behind the creature. He was crouching over something.

            It’s him. The big bastard who almost got me killed in the cinema.

            This was also the man who had driven the scorpion truck on the habitation level. He must have known Bora’s team was there, but he also knew that neither side could act decisively without provoking the creature. He understood the creature represented the bigger threat.

More creatures approached. Bora could feel them moving through the corridors all around him. He didn’t have time to stand here in a futile stalemate. But what was the Marine doing?

            He’s trying to provoke me into shooting. No, that’s not it.
Bora didn’t have a clean shot at the man anyway.

            The Marine seemed distracted with something near his feet.

            He’s taking his boots off.

            The Marine very carefully settled the boots to one side.

            Bora studied the man’s body language as he straightened from depositing the boots.

            He’s going to try to reach the hatch.
Losing his boots might buy him the few fractions of a second that he needed to get through the hatchway. It could be the difference between life and death. The idea of such a big man trying to sneak anywhere seemed ludicrous, but Bora had learned the hard way not to underestimate this particular specimen.

            He felt himself holding his breath as the man made his first move.

            The Marine took one step, shifted his weight over his second foot, and then glanced at the creature. He was, quite literally, one step ahead of Bora’s team. His eyes flicked to Bora and then back to the hatch.

            Did he just smirk at me? Oh, that’s it. You are dead! Screw the templates. You’re not leaving us out here with this thing.

            A hatch stood in the corridor on Bora’s right hand side. It joined the same area the Marine was trying to reach. Both hatches were the same distance from the creature. Unlike the Marine’s hatch, this one looked slightly ajar. That served in Bora’s favor.

            He matched the Marine’s movement, but with his boots still on. He heard a sharp intake of breath from the gunman behind him. Bora looked up and met the Marine’s stare.
I can beat you with my boots on.

            The Marine stepped again, now halfway to his hatch.

            Bora copied, feeling his legs shake at the incredible tension flowing through his body. He felt like a rodent dancing on a loaded mousetrap.

            As if sensing the race, the creature exploded into action.

            No one waited to see which direction the creature moved. For the first second, the creature was just a blur of scrabbling tentacles and horrid angles.

            Both men lurched towards their hatches. Bora’s hatch was partially ajar. He rammed his way past the steel door, feeling the second gunman crowding through right behind him. As the third gunman jumped through, Bora felt sure the creature had pursued the Marine. Two things happened that changed his mind.

            First, he heard the Marine slam his hatch shut.

            Then he noted the facial expression of the last gunman leaping through their hatch. The creature snatched the man midair. Two tentacles encircled the man’s thighs and dragged him back into the corridor. The man slapped both palms down on the bottom of the hatchway.

            ‘Shoot it!’ the man yelled, white-knuckling the bottom of the hatchway. ‘Help me!’

            ‘Don’t shoot!’ Bora ordered.

            ‘Please, help…’ begged the man.

            Bora braced his foot on the edge of the hatch and kicked with all the strength. The slamming hatch severed eight of the man’s fingers. Amputated digits dropped to the floor. Bora spun the mechanism shut.

            The hatch hardly muffled the mauling outside.

            Bora scanned the small room. Rows of plants crowded benches along both walls. The air felt humid. The lights were over-bright. Three more hatches exited the room. Bora remembered the writing on the entry hatch.

            Hydroponics.

            Great, more plants.

            The Marine’s hatch must serve the next room north. The Marine would already be moving.

            ‘That way, go,’ ordered Bora, waving his rifle north.

            The closest gunman dashed to the hatch, yanked it open, and found his shoulder and chest engulfed in the mouth of the creature coming in the other direction.

            The impact knocked the man backwards, tearing his body from the creature’s mouth. Blood fanned out from his neck, spray painting the floor as he scrambled on all fours away from the hatch. The creature leapt straight onto his back. The weight proved too much. His arms buckled. He collapsed down on the floor, completely obscured under the creature’s bulk.

            Retreating from the bloody spectacle, Bora found his back pressed up against the hatch leading south. Four hundred kilograms of angry creature separated him from his two surviving gunmen.

            ‘Go,’ yelled Bora. ‘Find him!’

            He didn’t know if his orders were heard over the screams. He turned, spun the hatch and jumped through. On the other side stretched a long workshop. Bora’s split-second glance registered work benches covered in hand-tools. Coils of irrigation tubing hung from the ceiling. The place reeked of chemical fertilizers. His special sense told him a lot more. Slamming shut the hatch, he registered the creature’s presence.