Holes in the Ground (23 page)

Screeeeeeeeam, vermin!

The demon glided in a circle, reconnoitring. At the far side of the room was a glass partition, the wall to an office.

Kaaaaaaaaane.

Bub dive-bombed a nearby guard, hooking his talons into the man’s shoulders and tearing his arms from his sockets. Then he accelerated toward Kane’s office.

The general ducked away just as the batling smashed through the window. Kane had drawn a bulky, silver revolver and opened fire.

“One,”
Bub said as the bullet punched into his chest.

The second shot shattered Bub’s femur, which immediately began to heal.
“Twooooooo.”

Another bullet buried itself into Bub’s gut.
“Threeeeeeeee.”

Another through a wing.
“Fooooooour.”

Bub continued to creep forward. A bullet took a chunk of flesh out of the demon’s throat.
“Fiiiiiiiiiiive.”

When the batling was only a meter away, General Kane drilled a round straight through his skull, blowing bits of brain matter from the back of Bub’s head.

Bub immediately fell, eyes wide and blank, blood pouring from the wound.

Kane appeared terrified, hair matted with sweat, his whole body shaking. He let the revolver drop to his side and blew out a stiff breath.

“Thaaaaaat’s siiiiiiiiiiix,”
Bub said, sitting up and grinning.
“You’re ooooooout.”

As Kane scrambled to reload, Bub gracefully hopped to his feet and dug a talon into the general’s soft belly.

“Turn it offfffffffff,”
Bub ordered.

Kane grimaced as Bub’s finger penetrated him to the second knuckle.

“No. My job is to bury you alive. And that’s just what I am going to do, you… you
abomination
.”

Human anatomy was relatively simple, so Bub easily hooked his claw around Kane’s small intestine. He tugged until it came out the hole in the general’s abdomen.

“ Turn it offfffffffff. Noooooow.”

The general dropped onto his ass, pulling out more of his digestive tract as he did. He blinked when he saw his own innards.

“It’s…. over. You’re going… to… die… in… two… minutes.”

The batling barked a laugh.
“Twoooo minutes is an eterniiiiiiiiiity.”
He began to disembowel Kane, careful not to pierce anything vital.

The pain on the general’s face was exquisite.

“Turn it offffffffff.”

“N-no.”

Bub dug a second claw inside the general, and found his descending colon. He pulled that out to show the man.

“Dooo it. Noooooooooooow!”

It couldn’t be.

It just couldn’t.

Dr. Gornman refused to believe that General Kane had the guts, the balls, to doom this entire facility.

He was old school military. A die hard patriot. But during her many sessions with Kane, Gornman would have bet her life he would have valued the safety of his personnel over the threat of monsters escaping.

And she
had
bet her life. And been wrong.

Gornman’s face contorted in rage and frustration, and she hit her fists on her desk in frustration as she watched the countdown to cement-filled death.

Ten seconds.

Nine…

Eight…

Seven…

Six…

Five…

Four…

Three…

…

…

…

Gornman looked around, expecting to hear the rush of concrete pouring in from the overhead ducts.

But there was nothing.

A minute passed. Then two.

No annihilation.

A half-hysterical laugh burst from her lips.

Kane chickened out! He stopped the Omega Protocol!

Gornman flipped through various security cameras on her monitor, looking for Kane. She wanted to see the defeated expression on his face. First she tried his office, but he wasn’t sitting as his desk, as Gornman expected. Right before she switched screens, she noticed the blood trail on the floor. Gornman punched in her code to take control of the camera, and made it pan right, where the smear of red ended in…

“Holy shit.”

General Kane was face down. His legs had been broken and twisted into a knot. And winding around his torso several times were his intestines—

—tied into a big bow on his back. Like a red ribbon on a Christmas present.

It was the most horrifying thing Gornman had ever witnessed, so she was surprised that she snorted a laugh at the sight.

Bub certainly wrapped up that problem.

It had to have been Bub. He was the only entity in the Spiral smart enough and powerful enough to have done that to Kane, obviously forcing him to stop the protocol. But as she continued to scan the room, Bub wasn’t there.

Gornman checked other security cameras, saw escaped creatures committing more carnage, including several on her level. If she didn’t find Bub quickly and get him to fulfil his promises to her, Gornman could end up as a monster snack.

But how could she contact him without revealing herself as a traitor? Rimmer and several guards were still alive. And Kane no doubt had notified Deus Manus, who would be sending evacuation teams and reinforcements. They couldn’t find out she had betrayed them all.

Gornman’s brows scrunched, thinking of how she could contact Bub without alerting anyone else of her crimes.

And then she had an idea.

The draculas didn’t die easily.

The first was shredded when it stepped into the cell; Rimmer’s Kriss Vector carbine cutting it down like a scythe through a wheat field.

“Mag!” he yelled when he was empty, and Jerry was ready with one to hand him as the second dracula climbed over its dead comrade to get at them. Rimmer erased the monster’s head, and Jerry gave him another magazine while a third creature scurried into the room and flanked them.

Jerry aimed and fired too, the Glock kicking and stinging his hand like he was trying to catch a speeding cricket ball. The recoil was so surprising that Jerry flubbed his next four shots, the tip of the pistol jerking upward and making him miss the creature as it rushed at him, mouth wide and so crammed full of teeth they tore bloody holes through its cheeks.

Just as the dracula grabbed Jerry’s arm, Rimmer swung around and rammed his rifle between the beast’s jaws, blowing off the top of its skull.

“Jesus, Rimmer. That was hardcore.”

“You’re not the only one who plays
Call of Duty
.”

Another dracula darted into the room, running like a cheetah on all fours, pouncing on Rimmer and pinning him to the floor of the cell. Rimmer held his rifle in both hands, one on the butt and one on the barrel, trying to keep the monster’s chomping jaws away from him.

“Shoot it!”

Jerry realized he couldn’t aim for shit, so he pressed the Glock to the dracula’s nose and pulled the trigger as fast as he could, showering him and Rimmer in gibs of tissue. He continued to pull the trigger after the magazine had emptied and the vampire flopped over on its side, dead.

Rimmer reached out a hand, and Jerry helped him sit up.

“Nice shooting, Tex,” Rimmer said, coughing. He ejected the mag from the rifle and opened his palm for another.

“We’re out of clips,” Jerry said.

Another dracula appeared at the cell door.

“They’re magazines, not clips,” Rimmer said. The correction seemed pointless considering their dire situation. “Check the bodies.”

Jerry quickly patted down the corpses of the guards. “They’re out too.”

Rimmer nodded. “Makes sense. They went down when they ran out of bullets to return fire. Still got that round in your pocket?”

Jerry slapped his pants leg and found the bullet he’d picked up in the elevator, when Rimmer was giving him the impromptu shooting lesson. He fished it out and held it up.

The dracula stood there, watching.

“Put it in the chamber of the Glock and close the slide.”

“One bullet?” Jerry whispered, his eyes flitting to the dracula. “You can’t kill these monsters with just one bullet.”

“It’s not for the monster,” Rimmer said, his face solemn. He drew his knife and asp. “I’m going down fighting, and I’m going to be ripped to pieces. If you don’t want that to happen to you…” his voice trailed off.

“Suicide? I’m supposed to kill myself?”

“Do you want to be eaten alive? Or worse, turned into one of those things? Put the cartridge in the weapon.”

With shaking hands, Jerry followed orders.

The dracula took a step toward them, sniffing the air.

“Been nice knowing you, kid.”

Jerry didn’t know where to point the gun. Aiming at the creature would be a waste of a bullet—it took at least ten shots to drop one of those things, and he’d no doubt miss. Shooting himself was an option, but that was a last resort kind of thing. And shooting Rimmer—well, that would be brave, and an act of mercy considering Rimmer was probably dying from the spider bites, but Jerry felt if he pointed the gun at Rimmer the soldier would kick his ass, even in his weakened condition.

So that left suicide.

“What’s the best way?” Jerry asked.

“Put it in your mouth, aim at the top of your head. But I can’t guarantee that for sure.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

Rimmer grunted. “Never tried it.”

The dracula took another step toward them, legs bending, ready to spring.

“I’ll try to hold him,” Rimmer said. “Maybe you can get around him and get out of here.”

“Shit, Rimmer. That sucks.”

“Okay,” Rimmer said. “You grab him, I’ll run for it.”

Jerry’s nerves were fried, fear and adrenaline making his whole body twitch, and he was in that hyperemotional place somewhere between laughing and crying.

He chose to laugh. A full, hearty laugh that shook him to his core. Then he held up his middle finger toward the dracula and said, “Bring it, ugly. I got something for you to chew on.”

Rimmer guffawed, then raised his middle finger as well. And for a few surreal seconds, two men about to die shared a last, triumphant
fuck you
to the universe.

The dracula pounced—

—claws outstretched—

—horrible teeth bared—

—flying straight at them—

—and was stopped in mid-air.

Jerry wasn’t sure what had happened. It was frozen there in mid-leap, less than a meter away. Then it began to thrash sideways, as if caught in the jaws of some monster.

Because it
was
caught in the jaws of some monster.

The monster bit the dracula in half, letting it drop to the floor, and then wagged its big, fluffy tail and howled.

“Wolfie!”

Wolfie bounded over to Rimmer and Jerry, snuffling at them both, his long, pink tongue licking at their faces.

“But he was shot,” Jerry said, hugging Wolfie’s muzzle. “I saw him die.”

“The bullets weren’t silver.” Rimmer patted the wolf’s giant head. “I told you werewolves were tough.”

If that wasn’t surprise enough, a woman then entered the cell and spoke. “He found me in the library. He’s been tearing through monsters left and right.”

“Nessie!”

Jerry let go of the canine and ran to her, and they shared an impromptu embrace. When Jerry pulled back far enough to look into Nessie’s eyes, he felt both strong and weak at the same time. She was so pretty. He liked her so much. And the way she looked at Jerry was proof she liked him, too.

I should kiss her.

I should kiss her.

I should—

Nessie leaned in and pressed her lips to his. It wasn’t an epic, end-of-movie Hollywood kiss, and it ended much too soon, but while it lasted Jerry officially counted it as the best moment in his life.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Nessie said.

“Um, you, too. I mean, I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

Wolfie whined. Jerry turned to look, and saw he was nudging Rimmer, who was lying on his back in the hay, eyes closed.

“Rimmer!”

“Is he hurt?” Nessie asked as Jerry knelt next to his unconscious friend.

“He was bitten by spiders. Remember those big ass harvestmen buggers? They had nasty little babies.”

“So I see,” Nessie said, taking in the hundreds of spider corpses around them. “Dr. Atlock in research was working on the spider venom. General Kane wanted anti-venom for all the creatures in the Spiral, in case any member of the order was bitten.”

“There’s an anti-venom?”

“I don’t know. But if there is one, it would be in Lab 3, on level 3.”

“Wait a second…” Jerry checked Rimmer’s watch. “Why isn’t everything filling up with concrete? I thought it was the deadly countdown death protocol thingy.”

“Omega Protocol,” Nessie said. “General Kane must have cancelled it. But the elevators aren’t working.”

Rimmer’s eyelids fluttered open. “There are… ladders… in the elevator shafts.”

Jerry turned to Nessie. “I’m going.”

“You’ll need my help.”

Rimmer gestured to his rifle. “Use that to pry open the elevator doors. And look for ammo.”

“Where?”

“The bodies of my dead guards,” Rimmer face went grim. “There’s also an armory on Level 2, but the door is activated by my hand print.”

Jerry glanced at Rimmer’s hand.

“You’re not cutting off my hand, shithead,” Rimmer said. “At least not while I’m still alive.”

“I wasn’t even considering it,” Jerry said, lying.

Rimmer held out the knife and asp and told Nessie, “Take them.”

“But then you’re unarmed.”

Rimmer patted Wolfie’s side. “I’ve got all the protection I need here. And look, if it doesn’t work out, if there’s no anti-venom, or if you can’t make it back… just leave me here. Kane will have alerted reinforcements. They’ll be flying in from Texas. It’ll take a few hours, but they’ll get here.”

“You may not have a few hours,” Jerry said.

“Just do what I said.”

“Let’s go.” Nessie grabbed Jerry’s hand. “The faster, the better.”

Jerry allowed himself to be pulled along, but as he looked back at Rimmer and Wolfie he had a sick feeling in his gut that he would never see either of them again.