Pulse

SEVENTEEN

Puffs of ash exploded with each footfall as King sprinted through the labyrinth of what were once hallways. But this was no tall walled maze. He could see the end goal in plain sight: the helipad and his Ml Garand rifle. Veering from the hallway, he opted for a more direct route. He bounded over the remnants of walls as he cheated his way through the maze, arriving at the helipad just as the first new capy-bara entered the clearing.

King dove to his stomach hoping his black shirt and pants would conceal his position in the ash. He doubted the thing could smell him with all the soot in the air. The capybara was smaller than the first, but quicker on its toes. It bounced around the ruins, sniffing here and there, all the while frothing and chattering its teeth like an oversized guinea pig gone berserk. Shrieks in the distance told him more were coming. There was no way he could face them all at once, and lying here, just waiting to be found was not how he played the game. King slowly took aim with the rifle. Eight shots. He couldn't miss.

The rifle's report echoed through the jungle. The capybara hit the leaf-ridden jungle floor and spasmed as though having a rapid-fire seizure. Then it snapped back onto its feet, spinning in circles. It stopped suddenly, eyes on King.

The thing shrieked as it dashed for King.

"Son of a bitch…" King fired twice more. Both misses.

The capybara hopped the outer wall of the ruins with ease and charged toward King. He fired twice more. The giant rodent fell, twitched, and continued its charge. The smaller round shot right through the creature without mushrooming like the .45 rounds. As a result, the damage was minimal.

As the beast closed to within thirty feet, King squeezed the trigger several times until a loud ping sounded from the rifle. The locking bolt sprang free and ejected the spent clip, allowing for the next clip to be slammed home. But King had no more clips.

And even less time.

The capybara launched into the air, its jaws open and two-inch incisors ready to bury into King's skull. King drew his KA-BAR blade and slammed it down just as the capybara was about to make contact. The blade pierced through the creature's back, slammed it to the helipad where the blade slid into a crack, pinning it in place.

King fell back, leaning on his hands, breathing heavily.

A shriek sounded to his right. He saw a flash of teeth.

A single shot boomed from his .45.

A splash of blood covered his body just before the now headless, hundred-pound rodent landed in his lap. King kicked it off and stood, looking for more attackers. Three more capybaras entered the far side of the clearing, already running toward him. King checked the magazine. Three bullets.

A shriek at his feet made him jump.

The capybara pinned to the helipad vibrated and spewed fluids as it pulled its body through the knife, slicing itself in half yet healing just as quickly. King placed the barrel of the .45 against the rodent's head and pulled the trigger. Its head disappeared and its body stopped moving.

King knew retreat was his only option. He searched his memory for what little he knew about capybara. They were semiaquatic. A glance at the dead rodents by his feet confirmed it. The river was out. As far as he knew, they couldn't climb trees. But the first he'd encountered had fallen from a tree. In their enraged state they might be able to climb trees, and navigate quick enough to catch a slow moving boa, but it did fall. The canopy might be his only chance.

As King looked for a suitable tree to climb he frowned. The trees had been trimmed clear of any low-lying branches, no doubt to afford room for the complex hidden here. The three capybara entered the complex, making a mess of each other as they snapped and vied for the front position, but they never slowed. They'd be on him in seconds. King holstered the handgun, tightened his grip on the KA-BAR knife, and leaped from the helipad. He struck a tall, smooth tree and nearly fell to the jungle floor, but he stabbed his knife into the tree's flesh and held on. After wrapping his left arm around the tree and tightening his grip, he pulled the knife out and stabbed again. Higher. Then pulled himself up. He repeated the movements three more time. Grip. Stab. Pull. Then stopped to take stock of the situation.

Before he could turn, the tree shook from an impact. A capybara landed on the jungle floor, kicking its legs madly in the air. A second launched itself at King and struck the tree, just below his feet. It, too, fell to the ground. As the third prepared to jump, King quickly withdrew the knife and stabbed higher, pulling himself up.

The third rodent jumped, struck the tree, and clung to it. Its dull claws, powered by unceasing mania, held tight. King's eyes widened as the creature began moving up. He let go of the tree, holding only to the knife. He risked a fall, but couldn't pass up such an easy target. He drew the .45 and fired down. Half of the capybara's face splattered against the tree, then began regenerating. He pulled the trigger again, finishing the job, and spending his last round.

After dropping the gun, King returned to climbing. The two remaining capybara followed, clawing their way up the tree. In the same way King used his knife, they used their upper teeth. Stab. Pull. Stab.

Pull.

The chop and scratch of the pursuing capybara kept time with King's movements. But he didn't look down. He didn't want to see if they were gaining. He just focused on the task at hand, moving toward the glowing green canopy above. When he reached the first branch, nearly one hundred feet above the jungle floor, he took hold and pulled himself up. After sheathing the knife he looked down. The capybara had five feet to go.

As King looked around to find the best path through the canopy branches, a shadow fell over the area, like a cloud blotting out the sun, but this shadow grew darker, and larger. King ducked, knowing something was falling from the sky. It crashed through the canopy, snapping branches and, for a moment, stopping the startled capybaras. The sudden cacophony was followed by a loud voice, "I'm down, but in the trees, Queen, over."

King looked up and saw Rook fighting to free himself from his parachute, now tangled in the branches. He'd been speaking to Queen through his throat mike. "Rook!"

Rook jumped back and nearly fell from the tree. "Gah!" The two men's eyes met. "King, what's the sit—" Rook saw the frothing capybara snapping at King's feet. "Oh, hell…"

"I need a weapon!" King shouted, stretching out his hands to the man he knew would be carrying an arsenal.

Rook quickly slipped his assault rifle from his back and tossed it to him. After a quick flick of the safety, King aimed down at the capybara closest to him and pulled the trigger. Plumes of red liquid rained down from the tree, coating the jungle floor. The capybara fought the barrage as its wounds healed, but King adjusted his aim and took off the creature's legs. It fell to the forest floor followed by the second, also missing its legs.

The two capybara writhed on the jungle floor while their legs began growing back. King took aim and pulled a second trigger with his middle finger. The weapon coughed and sent a 40mm grenade flying through the air. The capybara disappeared in giant ball of fire. The explosion shook the canopy of the entire clearing and sent the tree King and Rook clung to swaying. They hung on tight until the danger was over.

Armed and reinforced, King felt his confidence return. Though he couldn't see them, he knew the rest of the team clung to trees somewhere nearby. "Everyone stays in the trees," he told Rook. "Shoot anything that looks like an overgrown guinea pig."

Rook relayed the message and then peeled himself away from the tree. Still not free of his parachute, he turned around to give it a yank and came face-to-face with the blank-eyed stare of a corpse. He jumped back, but quickly caught himself, swallowing a gasp. "This a friend of yours, King?"

King climbed the branches to Rook. "What'd you find?"

Rook leaned back revealing the dead body of a young man. His T-shirt had been ripped open and his stomach eviscerated. The rest of his body was covered in two-inch puncture wounds.

King pushed past Rook and quickly searched the body. He found an ID card in his pocket. He handed it to Rook. "Ever hear of Manifold Genetics?"

Rook looked at the card, shaking his head. "Seth Lloyd. Tech support. So how does a guy who deals with the blue screen of death end up a treetop munchie for a psychotic rat?"

King noticed a lump under what little remained of the young man's T-shirt. He reached under, took hold, and yanked it free. A thumb drive. "Maybe we'll find some answers on this?"

"Or a lot of porn."

A boom rolled through the canopy. King recognized the report as a sniper rifle. Rook listened to a voice in his headset. "Knight bagged one of your guinea pigs."

"Tell him to take off its head."

After Rook relayed the message a second boom shook the leaves. After a few minutes, the sounds of jungle life returned to the area. The last of the super-predators had been killed. Within a year the burned-out complex below would be reclaimed by the jungle. No trace of its existence or the slaughter wrought by the capybara would remain. The only remnant of the facility and what had taken place here sat in King's hand. A small, eight-gigabyte thumb drive taken from a dead tech-support kid.

"Where to, boss?" Rook asked.

King handed him the thumb drive, not wanting to put it in his wet pants pocket. "Civilization."