The Gastropoda Imperative - Peter Barns (i like reading books .TXT) 📗

hardly move. The warm liquid that had run down her legs had turned cold now. She shivered slightly.

“Help . . . me.”

Macey could hardly hear the muted call. Shaking her head, she tried to ignore it. She didn’t want to help. She just wanted to collapse into the corner, as she used to do as a child when the girls at school made her cry.

“Please . . .” the voice said.

Freda took a hesitant step away from the wall.

“What are you doing?” Macey almost screamed at her sister.

“We can’t just leave him out there.”

“We can Freda. Please. After what he did to us—” Macey burst into tears again.

Freda leant the gun against the wall and went to Macey, cuddling her, rubbing her back as her sister’s shoulders shook.

“Please Freda. Please don’t leave me here alone. I can’t stand it.”

“I’ll just take a quick peek. I’ll be quick. I promise I’ll be careful.”

Freda picked up her gun and walked across the kitchen. Macey clung to her arm, more frightened of being left alone than of the terror that might be waiting outside.

Freda pressed her ear against the door. She could feel Macey trembling beside her, face buried into her side. Reaching out, Freda placed her hand on the door knob.

Macey whimpered.

Turning the knob, Freda released the latch. The door burst open, pushing both women backwards. Macey ended up sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, while Freda was pushed sideways against the wall.

A man fell into the hall, his legs still outside. A torn stump pumped blood from where his arm should have been. His clothes had been ripped from his back, as had most of the skin, and from where she stood by the door, Freda could see his ribs protruding through the torn muscles.

The man moaned and Freda clasped her hand to her mouth as he was slowly dragged away from the doorstep by something unseen in the garden. Freda was almost hysterical, swearing at the top of her voice - something she never did. She had been seized by an overwhelming surge of anger at what she and her sister had been put through, and she would take no more.

Stepping into the doorway, Freda shouldered the gun and pulled the trigger.

The night was lit by a bright flash and Freda’s ears stung from the loud explosion the gun made. It thumped back into her shoulder, making her gasp, but she didn’t have time to worry about the pain. Something was looming out of the night at her - something tall and terrifying.

Something from the worst nightmare she could ever have imagined.

***

They had just sat down around the table to eat beans and spaghetti, when an explosion slammed the canteen door shut. Dust fell from the ceiling, covering them all in a fine layer. Conal was on his feet in a flash, heading for the door. Opening it, he waved a hand in front of his face at the smoke billowing down the corridor.

Conal didn’t think, he just reacted, all his old training flooding back to him. Running back into the canteen, he practically threw Troy from his chair. He could see that the boy was in shock. Taking him by the shoulders, he looked into the his eyes.

“Troy.” Shaking him, Conal tried again. “Troy!”

The boy seemed to come out of his shock, his gaze settling on Conal’s. “Wha—?”

“I’ve got no time to argue. So just do as I say. Troy, are you listening for Christ’s sake?” Troy nodded. “Get the others out of here right now. Take them to the boat. Get it off shore. Wait for me around the side of the island. I’ll swim out to you. You’ll have to carry Pier’s.”

“But the Syc things.”

“You can outrun them. Even with Piers. Get out into the surf. They won’t be able to follow you in the water. Now get moving.”

Conal ran from the room, hoping that Troy would do as he’d been told, because he didn’t have time to make sure.

Damn Drewsbeck. Damn him to hell.

Conal ran for the computer room. He needed that hard drive if he was going to bring Drewsbeck to justice. The Old Man had conned him into covering up at least six murders, and from the sounds of what was happening in The Pit, he had probably ordered a few more.

Hearing the others running passed the lab, Conal quickly pulled the PC tower from under the desk. Screwing out the knurled knobs holding the covers in place, he wrenched the sides off and located the hard drive.

“Shit!”

It was fixed onto the chassis by two small screws and he didn’t have a screwdriver. Conal contemplated taking the whole tower for a moment, then dismissed the idea as impracticable. Running back to the canteen, he rummaged through the stuff Troy and Lee had collected earlier.

There it was, the metal nail file.

As Conal turned to go back to the computer room, Troy barged into the canteen. “The Syclers are in the ducting. I only just got the hatch closed in time.”

Conal could see that the boy was only just holding it together. He was panting and had a tremor in his voice.

“Do you have any matches on you?” Conal said. Troy nodded, bringing a lighter from his pocket. “Good. Here’s what you do.”

Chapter 39

Macey couldn’t scream. She had tried, but her throat seized up. She was beyond fear now, her whole body shaking so much she couldn’t stand. Sitting on the stairs, peeking between spread fingers, she tried to deny what was happening in front of her. She closed her eyes - they were dry, like her mouth. Her whole body felt as though she had been dumped in a dessert for a week.

One minute Freda had been there, standing in the doorway, swearing like a trouper, firing the gun at goodness knew what. The next, something had flown at her out of the darkness. Something long and fat and orange. Something that had gulped her sister’s head into its mouth and had then flung her from side to side, like a rag doll tossed about by an angry child.

Macey had sat unmoving, watching the gun fly from her sister’s lifeless fingers and bounce along the garden path.

Macey’s eyes were so wide that they hurt, but even so, she couldn’t blink them. To blink would be to miss the creature when it came for her - and that it would, she had no doubt.

What finally broke Macey from the panic that had kept her immobile on the stairs, was the sight of her sisters’ body falling to the ground.

The monster had bitten Freda’s head clean off!

Macey jumped to her feet and bounded up the stairs. Slamming the bedroom door closed behind her, she pushed the metal framed bed across the floor in front of the door.

No, that wasn’t anywhere near enough.

Looking around, Macey ran across the room and heaved her shoulder against the heavy wardrobe. It moved slowly. In desperation she threw herself against it over and over again, making it squeak its slow way across the linoleum, millimetre by millimetre.

Having done all she could, Macey backed away and slid down the wall, clasping her hands around her legs, hugging her knees to her chest.

When she heard the first slithering on the stairs, she began to rock, a soft wailing coming from somewhere deep inside.

***

King peeked over the rock he was sheltering behind, squinting through the settling dust. As usual, he’d placed the charges just right. The explosives had blown the big cover upwards, flipping it over onto the concrete, which left the recycling shoot leading down into the laboratory clear for their descent.

Running from the rocks, King picked up a knotted rope. “Here you go,” he said, tossing one end to Watts. “Tie that off to one of the lamp standards. I’ll get the rest of the charges packed up and ready for you.”

As his 2IC hurried off with the rope, King stuffed a large selection of explosives into a backpack. It should take about half-an-hour for them to set up the charges, then they’d be out of here.

Watts ran back, dropping the end of the rope down the chute. Donning the backpack he waited as King tried to contact Payne again.

No luck.

***

”Okay,” Lee said, trying to hide the tremor in his voice, “when I say, open the hatch and get out-of-the-way.”

Looking over his shoulder, Lee checked that Betts and Lyra were ready. They stared back at him and he could see the fear in their eyes. He hoped that his own wasn’t so evident. He wiped the sweat from his hands again, then gripped the can tightly, thumb resting on the nozzle.

“Go,” Lee said.

As Troy crashed the hatch aside, Lee flicked his lighter. The hair-spray whooshed out of the can in a long flame. Directing the miniature flamethrower at the Syclers slithering their way towards him, Lee prayed that there would be enough spray in the can to get them out of the cave.

Dropping the lighter into Troy’s hand, Lee pushed his way into the ducting. The girls crowded in tight behind him. Troy held back because, although Conal had told him to wait for him in the boat, there would be far too many Syclers left for Conal to get through with no flamethrower.

Watching Lee and the girls make their way through the ducting, Troy spotted more Syclers wriggling their way out from behind the safety of the filters after they had passed.

Where the hell was Conal? What was he doing?

Troy turned back to the inspection hatch, clutching his can. He wasn’t going to wait any longer. The thought of going through the ducting on his own, surrounded by Syclers, terrified him, but he’d have to do it.

Grabbing the half conscious Piers by an arm, Troy dragged him upright and stepped into the duct, pulling Piers with him. Holding his lighter aloft, Troy flicked the wheel to ignite it.

The lighter shot from his sweaty hand like a bar of wet soap and clattered to the floor.

***

King knelt, taking the backpack that Watts was thrusting up out of the hole at him. King hadn’t taken into account how tight the chute was and Watts had almost got himself stuck in it. His 2IC’s white face looked up at him from the hole. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to, his expression said it all.

“Okay, okay,” King placated him. “I’ll pull the rope back up after you’re in there, then I’ll lower the stuff down to you. Give me a pull on the rope when you’re down there.”

Watts nodded and disappeared.

While he waited for Watts to descend the rope, King tried the radio again. He was worried. Something must have gone really wrong for Payne to be out of radio contact for so long. King switched channels but got the same result. Nada.

Feeling a tug on the rope, King swiftly pulled it to the surface and tied on the backpack. He fed the explosives down to Watts, wondering whether to try the radio one last time, knowing that once underground the radio wouldn’t work.

Shaking his head, King turned his back to the hole and grabbed the knotted rope. Easing his way down into the chute, King braced his back against the concrete. Wrapping the rope around his ankle, he clamped his other foot on top and began the long descent.

As King’s head disappeared into the chute, the creature moved out from the rocks where it had been feeding on the faeces it had found earlier. The big Sycler could sense its nest somewhere nearby. Speeding up, it began slithering towards the dark opening.

Chapter 40