Apocalypse

66

Ethan was hurled backwards by the impact of Olaf’s immense bulk and crashed down onto a thick tangle of cables. Olaf’s knees dropped down either side of Ethan’s waist as a huge fist plummeted toward his face, the Nordic giant’s features glowing demonically in the diffuse light.

Ethan swung both of his arms sideways to intercept Olaf’s punch and drive it aside. Olaf’s thick knuckles cracked against the metal plates in the deck and the big man growled in pain as he grabbed Ethan’s pistol and tore it from his grasp. Olaf hurled the weapon out of Ethan’s reach and then plunged his hands down onto Ethan’s neck, leaning forward and driving all of his weight behind his muscular arms.

Ethan’s eyes bulged, his throat choked shut and his lungs swelled. Olaf, his eyes poisoned with hatred, his teeth gritted with fury, squeezed with a tremendous, unimaginable force. Stars of light sparkled and whirled in Ethan’s vision, his own arms ineffective against Olaf’s immense strength.

Ethan reached out and grabbed Olaf’s face before driving his thumbs deep into the killer’s eyes, pushing with his fingernails as he felt the soft tissue beneath the eyelids compress like a squashed orange. Olaf gagged and pulled his head back as he struggled to escape Ethan’s hands, before releasing his stranglehold and smashing Ethan’s arms apart to break his grip.

Ethan jerked his hips up and then yanked them down as he flicked his upper body forward and smashed his forehead into Olaf’s face. Olaf’s broad, thick nose collapsed with a deep crunch of shattered cartilage as a thick stream of dark blood splattered down across his vest. Ethan reached up for the pistol in Olaf’s shoulder holster, but the big man gripped his wrist and forced it aside.

Olaf heaved one arm back to swing another punch, but Ethan took full advantage of the clumsy maneuver and stabbed the fingers of his free hand like lances into Olaf’s bleary eyes. The giant growled and scrambled away from Ethan, releasing his wrist as he reached down for the pistol nestled in his shoulder holster and hauled it free to aim singlehanded at Ethan.

Ethan saw the pistol swing around to point at him, and in the fraction of a second before the moment of his death his marine corps training flashed through his mind and, rather than evading the weapon, he instead lunged toward it.

Ethan grabbed the pistol’s barrel with both hands and clamped them down tightly. Olaf squeezed the trigger with the pistol pointed at Ethan’s chest from point-blank range. The mechanism moved a fraction before jamming against Ethan’s fingers as he locked its movement and then shifted one hand to ram his index finger behind Olaf’s. With both of their fingers trapped behind the trigger, Olaf could not fire the pistol.

Olaf stared at Ethan in surprise but before he could respond Ethan rammed his right knee deep into the big man’s groin with all of his might. Olaf’s legs collapsed reflexively beneath him, and as he fell Ethan twisted and yanked his grip sideways across the pistol’s barrel, twisting it against the direction of Olaf’s fall.

Olaf howled in pain as Ethan twisted relentlessly aside, then crouched and drove his bodyweight into the maneuver. Olaf was forced sideways on his knees and his wrist trembled as it failed and then the pistol snapped from his grasp. The huge man scrambled away from Ethan and reached out for the discarded rifle of the dead soldier.

Ethan let himself fall away from Olaf and rolled onto his shoulder to come up the other side onto one knee with the pistol aimed double-handed at Olaf. Olaf whirled and pulled the rifle into his shoulder as Ethan squeezed the pistol’s trigger.

The bullet struck Olaf just to the left of center of his chest, a neat red stain appearing as if by magic on his vest. Olaf shuddered and stared at Ethan with his blue eyes wide and almost instantly lifeless. The tiny stain on his shirt spread in moments to encompass his entire torso as his heart, grossly oversized after years of steroid abuse, spilled his lifeblood at a tremendous rate.

Olaf’s huge arms trembled as the rifle dropped from his grasp, his once firm jaw hanging slack as he toppled over backwards and vanished amidst the swirling clouds of steam.

Ethan staggered, his balance uneven and his breath ragged in his damaged throat as he slowly got to his feet. He carefully picked his way forward over the cables to where Olaf lay and took the rifle from beside the man’s corpse. He turned and moved to the far side of the chamber where the IRIS troops were protecting Joaquin.

It was then that he realized that the firing had stopped.

Ethan peered out through the whirling clouds of steam. Hazard lights flashed like beacons through the fog at him as though he was in some infernal subterranean nightclub, and he could hear sirens as the smoke from the fires began setting off alarms. Then, above it all, he could hear Joaquin’s voice.

‘Olaf? Come out, Olaf! It’s over, we have them all!’

Ethan felt a crushing disappointment swamp him as he advanced a single pace to peer around the edge of the black-hole chamber. Several IRIS troops lay dead behind or beside the computer banks, many of which sparked and smoldered from multiple bullet impacts. The remaining IRIS soldiers stood in the center of the dome with their weapons pointed at Bryson, Lopez and Katherine.

Behind the soldiers, using them as a shield, Joaquin called out again.

‘Olaf?! It’s over!’

Ethan shouted out in response. ‘I don’t think your little puppy is up to replying, Joaquin!’

A long silence ensued, during which he could almost sense Joaquin’s anguish.

‘Where is he, Warner? Bring him out here or I swear I’ll shoot Lopez dead right now!’

Ethan savored his reply.

‘He’s too heavy to carry,’ he shouted. ‘Most people are when they’re dead.’

Another silence followed and this time he could hear Joaquin’s voice cracking with suppressed rage.

‘It’s over, Ethan!’ he shouted. ‘Come out with your hands in the air where we can see you!’

Ethan thought hard about what Joaquin was willing to sacrifice in order to achieve his aims. It had become clear that the lives of other people, no matter how close they were, held little value for him. It was also clear that there was no way he would let Ethan, Lopez or Katherine Abell leave the facility alive, for to let them do so would bring an end to Joaquin’s insane scheme. Ethan stared up at the metal sphere towering above him, and realized that there was only one thing that Joaquin could not afford to lose.

‘It’s not over, Joaquin,’ he shouted back. ‘I’ve still got one play left.’

From the far side of the sphere, Joaquin laughed out loud.

‘You’re defeated, completely,’ he snapped. ‘I am holding a gun to Miss Lopez’s head. If you don’t show yourself in the next five seconds, I’ll kill her. I can afford to waste a hostage, Mr. Warner, because I have three of them. What can you afford to waste?’

Ethan gripped the M-16 tighter and set the fire-control switch to automatic. Then he strode out into plain view with the rifle pulled tight into his shoulder and trained ahead of him.

He saw the small knot of people turn to look at him as he appeared through the hissing steam clouds. Joaquin was holding a pistol to Lopez’s head, but to Ethan’s relief he saw that none of them had yet been restrained. The three remaining IRIS soldiers turned, aiming at Ethan. Bryson, standing between Katherine and Lopez, noticed instantly that there was no longer a weapon pointing at him. Having lost several men, the soldiers’ professionalism was starting to crumble.

‘Drop the weapon, Warner!’ Joaquin shouted.

‘I’d urge you to compromise,’ Ethan replied, edging toward them. ‘You still stand to lose. I have the camera.’

Joaquin shook his head and tutted.

‘And you say that I’m insane,’ he said. ‘You are once again outgunned, four to one. Lose the weapon or Lopez will lose her head, as will you. I will retrieve the camera from your cold, dead corpse.’

Ethan smiled grimly as he glanced up at the black-hole chamber beside him.

‘Then you’ll have to follow me to oblivion to get it.’

Ethan whirled and aimed at the giant metal plates of the black-hole chamber. In the instant that he aimed the weapon, he heard Joaquin’s terrified scream.

‘No!’

Ethan squeezed the trigger, and the rifle clattered and bucked in his grip as bullets smashed into the chamber’s walls.