Holes in the Ground (21 page)

“I shut them down.”

“For God’s sake, why?”

Gornman had been waiting a very long time to tell Kane what she thought of him. Of his rules. Of the Spiral. Of the entirety of Deus Manus. But instead of launching into a well-deserved scolding, she played it safe. Just in case things didn’t turn out as she hoped.

“There are monsters everywhere, General. We can’t risk one of them escaping.”

“I’m in charge here, Doctor. I make that call.”

Gornman pushed the martyr card. “The danger is too great.”

“In twenty-four minutes this facility is going to fill up with cement. Do you want to be here when that happens?”

“Rimmer and his men can still contain the problem. You’re awfully eager to destroy a multi-billion dollar facility.”

“It’s my decision, Dr. Gornman. I order you to start the elevators.”

“I can’t do that, General. Revoke Protocol Omega.”

What Kane said next shocked her. “No.”

For a moment, Gornman actually admired the old bastard. He had a heroic streak after all.

But she knew him too well. This was like a game of chicken, two cars speeding at each other. He’d break first.

“So be it,” Gornman said. “Then they can drop a giant tombstone on the Spiral, with all the names of the people you’ve killed.”

Gornman hung up the phone, then put the ringer on silent.

Kane would break first. She was sure of it.

He had to.

“We’re in trouble,” Jerry said.

“You think?” Rimmer asked, still peering through the Plexiglas.

“More than that. Look.”

Rimmer turned and stared at the giant egg buried in the hay, dozens of spiders crawling out if it. Each was larger than a tarantula.

“Why are you waiting? Shoot them!”

“We’re in a steel cell, Jerry.”

“So?”

“Bullets ricochet. We’ll cut ourselves to pieces.”

As Jerry backed away, Rimmer advanced on the spider eruption, stomping and swearing. The imps followed suit, scrambling after the arachnids and tearing their legs off. For every one they killed, three more came out of the egg.

Jerry remembered what happened to Handler when he was bitten by a spider; the bloke damn near exploded from the venom. Not a good way to go.

But there didn’t seem to be any good ways to go in the Spiral. One death was worse than the next.

Jerry joined the attack, stepping on the horde as fast as he could. The arachnids crunched under his feet like cellophane bags, farting out guts as they squished. It was disgusting, and scary as anything he’d ever done before, but the spiders weren’t fighting back, or even trying to get away. Maybe they were too young to know any better.

“I really screwed up my life these past few months,” Jerry blurted over the noise of the assault.

Rimmer laughed. “Really? You pick now to start talking about personal shit?”

“I might not get another chance to talk about it.” Jerry stomped on a particularly large spiderling, which popped with the sound of a balloon. “I’ve got things I’ll never be able to make right.”

Rimmer glanced at him but continued to step on spiders. “The person you stole from in the UK?”

“No, fuck him. I have a brother. I messed things up with him. I would have liked to have said sorry.”

“You may get a chance yet. Take it from someone who has faced certain death before and lived to tell the tale. Sometimes the heat of the moment stops us looking forward.”

“So you think we’ll get out of this alive?”

Rimmer shook his head. “No.”

Jerry winced. “Well, what the bloody hell then?”

“Doesn’t mean we’re going to stop trying. Worst thing a man can do is lie down and accept death. God gave us life. It’s our duty to preserve it.”

“You believe in all that? I mean, you’ve killed people before and you guard a prison full of monsters. You still think there’s a God?”

“Absolutely.” He pulled out a tactical knife and shish-kabobbed a spider climbing the cell wall. “I just think that God has his hands a little fuller than we would believe. As much as I believe in Him, I also believe that there’re evil forces that work against Him.”

“Like Bub? Are you saying he’s the devil?”

“People like to question God for letting bad things happen. Doesn’t it make more sense that it’s because he isn’t in total control. I’ve always believed that God does what he can but that there are forces which seek to bring him down. Forces like Bub. Seeing the abominations in this prison has only increased my belief of that.”

“But God is God, right? All powerful, almighty. Couldn’t he just put an end to this bullshit?”

“They say the Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“Bullshit. God doesn’t need us to make excuses for him. If he exists, he’s letting all this happen. And that sucks.”

There was a high-pitched squeal, and Jerry followed the sound and saw that one of the imps was on the floor, clutching its belly.

“A spider must have bit him!”

Jerry hurried over and scooped the sick creature up. Sure enough there was a red welt on its stomach, clear poison leaking out.

“What do I do?” he asked. The other imps had gathered around, hopping up and down to see their fallen family member.

“I’d say suck it out,” Rimmer said, “but with those things it’s probably a bad—”

Jerry immediately latched his lips onto the imp’s wound and began to draw out the venom. His mouth filled with a foul, bitter liquid. He spat it over his shoulder.

“Jerry, you could poison yourself. You shouldn’t—”

Again he ignored Rimmer, going back for a second try, sucking out as much as he could.

The little imp in his hands shivered, but it opened its eyes.

“Give me your bandana,” Jerry said, indicating the one around Rimmer’s neck. The soldier handed it over. Jerry put the imp in a makeshift sling and tied it to his belt loop.

“Rinse with this.” Rimmer offered Jerry a silver flask. The boy unscrewed the top and took a pull, his mouth filling with the burn of alcohol. “Now spit.”

Jerry obeyed. “What is that? Whiskey?”

“Pappy Van Winkle 23 year old,” Rimmer said, taking the flask back and indulging in a swig.

“It’s really good.”

“I know.”

“Can I have more? You made me spit mine out.”

Rimmer offered the flask and Jerry took a healthy sip. It burned going down in a wonderful way.

“Now keep stomping spiders,” Rimmer said. “There’re still a lot.”

Just as Jerry did so, he heard a female voice. “Jerry, are you okay?”

It was Nessie. Coming from the hallway intercom.

“We’re trapped in here,” Jerry said up at the cell’s camera.

“I can’t hear you, Jerry,” Nessie replied. “You need to get on the intercom to respond. Are you okay?”

Jerry wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he shrugged his shoulders.

“Are you trapped in there?”

He nodded several times.

“I’ve tried contacting other guards. The elevators are on override. No one can get out of the Spiral, and no one can get down to you.”

“Elevators overridden?” Rimmer scowled. “What the hell does Kane think he’s doing?”

Jerry pointed at the camera and said in an exaggerated fashion. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Nessie said, apparently able to read his lips. “I’m still in the library on the same level as you, subbasement 5. I locked the doors. But so many others… it’s… it’s a massacre, Jerry. Monsters are everywhere. I—”

There was a clanging noise, and her voice cut off.

“Nessie? Nessie!”

She didn’t reply.

“Think she’s okay?” Jerry asked, turning to Rimmer.

“Worry about her later,” Rimmer said, pointing.

Another egg, partially buried in the hay, began to open, spewing spiders into the cell. As fast as they could stomp them, more appeared. And worse, they’d gone on the offensive, climbing the walls and ceiling and leaping at Jerry, several of them landing on him at once.

Gwen Nestor knew she was a nerd ever since she was eight years old. When her friends were playing with fashion dolls, she asked her parents for books about mythology. Zeus and Hera were infinitely more interesting to Nessie than Ken and Barbie.

In high school, while peers were spending time with Facebook, Nessie preferred real books. She studied ancient religions at Georgetown in DC primarily to be near the Library of Congress. Thirty-four million tomes, many of them unopened for decades. The ultimate research facility.

When Deus Manus snatched her up out of college, Nessie geeked out. So many of the myths she’d been studying turned out to be based in fact, and the Spiral had the creatures to prove it. Plus she had access to rare books. Forbidden books. Secret books that revealed a history of the world only a select few knew about.

Nerd heaven.

At least it was, until the creatures all got out and started killing everybody. The Pandora’s Box parable sprang immediately to mind.

Which is why, when something crashed against the library door, Nessie immediately abandoned her intercom call with Jerry and hid behind a massive bookcase full of illuminated manuscripts printed on vellum.

She held her breath, listening, her heart beating so loudly she could hear it.

Thirty seconds passed.

A minute.

CLANG!

She jumped back, startled, as something hit the door again. Something very big, by the sound of it.

Her movement made the bookcase shake, and an uncut version of the
Codex Gigas
—the longest antique manuscript ever penned—fell at her feet. The eight hundred year old book landed on its wooden spine and opened, ironically, to a grinning illustration of the devil.

Could it be Bub outside the library?

One of those dracula things?

Something even worse?

Nessie didn’t want to wait around to find out, but she had no place to go. The library only had one entrance. The Spiral wasn’t subject to local fire codes, and there was no emergency exit. No way to escape. One way in, one way out.

She stared down at the illustration again, and something compelled her to turn the page. When she did, Nessie realized what Bub’s plan was.

CLANG!

Nessie jumped, peering around the bookcase to see the door was off its hinges, catching sight of something dark and massive as it darted inside and disappeared into the ranks and files of books.

Oh my god. I’m dead.

She didn’t want to die without letting others know what Bub had in store. So against every contrary fiber in her being, Nessie reached for the
Codex Gigas
—

—and tore out a page.

It was an irredeemable act of vandalism on one of the rarest, most important books in the history of the world. But if she was killed—and that was seeming more and more likely—maybe the page would be found on her body and serve as a warning to others.

Nessie folded up the vellum and stuck it into her jeans pocket. Then she willed her legs to move, and managed to run two steps before something pounced on her, pinning Nessie to the floor, fangs and hot breath on the back of her neck.

The achillobator’s throat and breast feathers were dripping with blood, as were its fangs. It stood between Andy and the x-ray machine, swaying slightly on muscled legs. The dinosaur’s head jerked in Andy’s direction, cocked to the side like a bird, and its black eyes blinked.

“That’s the ugliest chicken I’ve ever seen,” Lucas said.

Andy clenched so he didn’t wet his pants, and without moving his body he forced his eyes off the creature, scanning the room for a weapon.

There was a stool, a desk with a computer, and—

Andy doubled over in agony, his vision going red. He dropped to his knees and held out his hands, watching as claws extended from his fingertips.

NO! Not now! We were so close!

He turned, looking back at Sun, still unconscious on Lucas’s shoulder.

I’m sorry, my love. I did my best, and I failed. I’m so very—

And then his mind succumbed, and the man who was once Andy wasn’t Andy anymore.

Weeeeeeee are leeeeegion.

Weeeee… musssssssst… KILL!

The demon Andy had become rose to its full height and snarled, focusing on its enemy. An enemy it had known for millennia.

“Luuuucaaaaasssssssssss,”
the Andy-demon hissed.

Then the demon pounced, fangs bared and claws outstretched.

Jerry began to beat on his arms and chest, but for every spider he knocked off his body, two more jumped onto him.

The imps tried to help, climbing the boy’s legs and pulling off all the spiders as fast as they could, but Jerry knew it was no use. Any moment he’d be bitten and—

WHAM!

The kick connected squarely with Jerry’s chest, knocking him off his feet and into the Plexiglas cell door. Jerry fell onto his arse, trying to get his wind back.

Rimmer.

Why in the hell would he…?

Then Jerry realized he was free of spiders. Rimmer’s fast kick had knocked them all free.

Jerry checked the bandana on his belt loop, making sure he hadn’t sat on the imp who’d been bitten. The creature was still safely tucked away. Then he stood up and saw Rimmer had his tactical knife in one hand, his asp baton in the other, stomping and slashing and whacking spiders left and right. It was a sight to behold, like Taz on Bugs Bunny, swirling around and forging a path of destruction.

The spider assault began to abate as their numbers dwindled, and as Jerry gasped for air he watched Rimmer and the imps track down the last few dozen and destroy them.

“Any more eggs?” Jerry managed to squeak out, his ribs feeling like he’d been stomped by an elephant.

Rimmer kicked through hay piles. “Just those two. Goddamn Kane was supposed to make sure these things didn’t breed.”

“Nature found a way,” Jerry said, quoting from
Jurassic Park
.

The imps, now that the battle had ended, gathered around Jerry. They nuzzled against him like kittens. He patted one on its clammy head and it chirped.