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

A thump on the bedroom door brought Macey to her feet, her head moving back and forth in a desperate search for escape.

There wasn’t any.

Macey didn’t want to die like this. She wanted to see her daughter marry; wanted to see her grandchildren; wanted to live to an old age; to sit by the window, watching the clouds pass by on a bright summer’s day.

The door thumped again, louder this time, moving the bed and wardrobe a couple of millimetres into the room. Macey stifled a scream, tearing at her hair in her fear of what was to come.

A shaft of light unexpectedly lit the bedroom ceiling, moving across the coombes - the headlights of a car passing by on the nearby main road.

The window!

Macey ran to the skylight set into the roof. She pushed at it, but it wouldn’t move. It was fitted with some kind off burglar-proof lock and she didn’t have the key. Pulling at the bar again, she broke off a fingernail, her blood leaving a long smear down the yellow paintwork.

Grabbing a small stool from in front of the dressing table, Macey swung it at the window. The glass cracked, but the stool fell to pieces in her hands.

Behind her the bedroom door thumped again, opening another few millimetres.

***

”It’s okay Troy, I’ve got it,” Conal said, scooping the lighter from the floor as he pushed his way passed the boy into the ducting. He grabbed the can from Troy’s hand. “You concentrate on getting Piers out.”

Troy grabbed Piers around his waist. Piers moaned, shaking his head, trying to get to his feet. Conal sprayed the can and lit it. The Syclers moved away from the flame, some dropping onto the floor as Conal crisped them. Up ahead he could just make out the other three, their flame swinging back and forth as Lee worked his way towards the exit.

“Christ, there right behind me,” Troy said, pushing into Conal’s back in his panic.

Conal tripped, almost falling to the floor, but managed to recover. “For Christ’s sake Troy, back off and give me some room, will you? You’ll get us both killed.”

Swapping the can to his other hand when the heat began to burn his thumb, Conal pushed forward as quickly as he dared, picking off the Syclers as they came at him. He was beginning to worry they might not make it. The can already felt more than half empty, and the Syclers still loomed ahead for as far as he could see.

***

Macey fell to the floor on her knees. Folding her hands together, she began to pray. She’d never been a religious person, only attending church once a year for the New Year carols, but tonight she put all her heart in it, praying as she used to as a child when Christmas neared: “Please God, I’ve been good all year. Just like mummy said I must. Please send Santa with that doll.”

Macey felt something under her knee and looked down. It was a dress. There were more clothes piled high all around her. Looking over her shoulder, she spotted the open cupboard door, and standing inside, the big metal trunk.

The biggest thump yet sounded, drawing Macey’s gaze back to the bedroom door. It was almost half open now and as she watched, a long shadow began entering the room.

Jumping to her feet, Macey threw the remaining clothes from the trunk, jumped inside, pulled the cupboard door closed, and knelt in the trunk. She heard more noises from the bedroom, furniture moving, sucky, slithery sounds. Whimpering, Macey lay on her side and pulled the lid down.

It was completely black inside the trunk. She couldn’t see a thing, even with her eyes open. The deep blackness frightened her, but not as much as the creature that was making all that noise on the other side of the thin cupboard door.

Macey closed her eyes and began hyperventilating.

***

”Stay in the water as much as you can. Keep off the sand.” Conal’s shouts rebounded off the rocks as they raced down the centre of the cave, dragging Piers between them.

Sensing the prey below, the Syclers above began dropping off the roof of the cave. Conal batted a couple from Piers’ shoulders, pulling his coat over his own head as protection.

Running out onto the beach, they headed towards the boat, heaving Piers over the side. Then gathering around the bow, they joined the others in pushing the boat into the water, desperate to get it moving. Scrambling through the water as the boat finally left the sand, they threw themselves over the sides into the bottom, gasping and spluttering on seawater.

“There coming,” Betts screamed. “Quick Troy, get the boat started.

Troy span around , grabbing the starter cord, pulling it three times. The engine spluttered but didn’t start.

“The key,” Lee shouted.

Troy turned the ignition key and tried again. The outboard roared into life and Troy gunned it, pulling the boat around in a tight circle away from the shore. The boat tilted, almost throwing Betts over the side. She screamed, already halfway over when she felt a strong hand grip her wrist and pull her back again. She tumbled on top of Piers. He looked up at her with a big smile on his face.

A wave crashed over the side of the boat, soaking them all.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it now,” Troy shouted, straightening the boat so it was headed for the mainland.

Conal leant forward in the bouncing boat, head in hands, hoping against hope that they would get back to the mainland before whoever was on the island discovered that they had been there.

***

King stopped, swaying slightly as his 2IC pulled on the rope below him.

That was the sound of an outboard motor. Somebody had been on the island. Shit, he had to stop them.

“Watts, I think we’ve got someone leaving the island. You carry on and set the charges, and don’t forget the hard drive. I’ll take care of the intruders.”

A loud, “Okay,” echoed up to him as King climbed his way out of the chute. Running across the concrete, King jumped into the helicopter and started it up. Within minutes the helicopter was airborne and King was heading out over the sea.

Chapter 41

Watts swung himself back and forth on the end of the rope until he could step off onto the wall that had been built around the deep pit in the floor. Jumping down, he tugged on the rope and waited for King to lower the explosives.

The place Watts found himself in was littered with glass and soil, obviously caused when some of the shelving secured to the walls had collapsed for some reason. Crunching his way through the mess into the corridor, he was more than a little surprised to find that the lights were working.

King had told him that nobody had been on the island for at least five years, so how was this possible? He shrugged. Must be a direct connection to the mainland or something. Just made his job all the easier.

Watts did a quick search of the building, finding only one computer situated in a small office behind the main laboratory. It was laying on the floor, its covers off to one side. Picking it up, he looked inside the chassis. The hard drive had been taken out.

He stood quietly for a moment, going over everything he’d seen since he’d entered the building in his mind, then walked back to the canteen. Four plates were set out on the table with what looked to be spaghetti. Moving over to them, wiping an extended finger over one of the plates. Examining his finger, he licked it.

Bean juice. Still wet. Somebody had been here just a short time ago.

Radioing in his findings, King told him to set up the charges, blow the building and meet him at the end of the island. Unloading the heavy backpack, Watts got to work.

***

King swung the helicopter back towards the island, trying to guess which direction the boat was headed.

The radio sounded in his headphones and King acknowledged the incoming call. “Hard drive’s been taken and somebody has been here recently. Very recently,” his 2IC said.

“Okay, continue setting the charges. As soon as you’re ready, blow the place. I’ll pick you up on the rocks at the narrow end of the island.”

“Right.”

King turned his head, searching the sea below. Something had caught his eye. Yes, there it was, a long line of white cutting through the waves. A boat had passed this way just a few minutes ago.

Turning the helicopter, King pulled out his pistol, placed it on the seat beside him, and turned the helicopter parallel with the wake.

***

Conal lifted his head and listened hard. A light glimmered over to their left. Hell, this was exactly what he’d been fearing might happen. Whoever was on the island had heard them.

“Hey, there’s a ‘copter,” Troy called above the noise of the engine, slowing the boat down.

“No don’t stop,” Conal shouted.

“But they can help us,” Lee said, pointing at the helicopter now headed straight towards them.

Conal watched the bright beam of light pointing down from beneath the aircraft like an accusing finger, his mouth drying as he realised what was about to happen.

“Get down all of you and stay down. Here, let me have the controls,” he shouted, pushing Troy to one side.

“What is it? What’s the matter,” Betts said, hanging on to the side of the boat as Conal set it into a series of turns designed to evade the oncoming helicopter.

“I don’t know,” Lee said.” He’s gone bloody mad. Stay here and Troy and I’ll sort him out.”

***

Lee grabbed Troy’s shoulder, shouting in his ear. Troy nodded then shouted something back. Lyra couldn’t make out what they were saying to each other, but sat up straighter when they both unexpectedly lunged at Conal, pulling him away from the controls. The boat jerked, then began turning in a large circle.

Troy was behind Conal, his arm around the man’s throat. Lee was in front, pulling him to his knees by his lapels. Conal was trying to speak, pulling desperately at Troy’s arm.

“Quick Betts. Stop the boat or that ‘copter’s going to miss us,” Troy shouted.

Betts scrabbled across the boat, loosing her footing as she was hit by the struggling men. Landing on her knees, she grabbed the throttle grip and twisted it. The boat slowed down and began rocking in the waves. Lyra squinted and shaded her eyes against the helicopter’s bright light as it flew directly overhead.

Blinking back the tears, she watched the aircraft turn back, just a couple of metres off the sea now, twisting sideways so the pilot could see them. He held up his hand and Lyra waved back at him.

“No!” Conal screamed, throwing off Troy and Lee so he could launch himself at Lyra.

Lyra fell, Conal on top of her. Betts was thrown backwards, her arms spread wide, a large bullet hole in the centre of her forehead. She turned slowly and collapsed into the sea.

They were all immobilised with shock, unable to think - except Conal, who grabbed the throttle, twisting it wide, weaving the boat away from the helicopter.

“Get down in the bottom of the boat,” he yelled as the aircraft headed their way again.

Huddling down into the bottom of the boat, they could do little else, but watch the helicopter fly over. They heard the shots this time, the bullets hitting the surrounding waves with small spurts of water. Conal swung the boat in a different direction, knowing that he would never be able to outrun the helicopter but still trying.

Lee suddenly seemed to realise that Betts had disappeared and lunged to the side of the boat, screaming out her name. He stood up, searching the dark waves for her. Conal saw the blood and cloth splat away from his arm as the boy was hit. He managed to catch Lee’s arm, but the boy twisted out of his grip, grabbing at Conal’s jacket, hooking his fingers into his pocket as he fell.

Conal found himself dragged along the boat as Lee went over the side. With nobody at the controls, the boat turned into a