The Void

CHAPTER 38

Alex ran hard, dodging around huge columns of slime that he was sure leaned toward him as he sprinted past. Things threshed inside them and squirmed under his boots, making it feel like he was in some sort of swampy miasma. Many times fist-sized bugs, or whatever they were, slammed into him and stuck; he pulled them away, crushing them and flinging them to the side as they tried uselessly to burrow into him.

Alex slowed as something out in the weird speckled fug thumped down heavily making the ground jump as if a building fell. He continued to watch in the direction he thought it had come for several moments. Hope you stay far away, big fella, whatever the hell you are. He waited a few more seconds for the sound to repeat, and when it didn’t, he lowered his head and powered hard once again toward the Orlando.

Our own personal Doomsday Clock is counting down, and we have just hours remaining. In that time, he had to find the two women, snatch them away from the Morg, make it back to the crater wall, scale it and find shelter from the heat and blast force before the detonation turned the entire mountaintop basin into a temporary volcano — doable, provided everything happened to plan.

Like that ever happened. Alex half grinned at the thought. He ran harder — he needed more time.

The mist was becoming thicker, and he had to rely less on his vision as he did on his other senses. But inside the crater, the weird buzzing that was continually working within his head obscured everything. The only thing that told him he was heading in the right direction was the buzzing — it got louder when he headed one way, more than others.

Alex leaped between two mucus-covered stumps and found himself right in the middle of a bunch of creatures that had a plate of chitin on their heads, but the rest of their bodies were little more than lumpy sacks.

The closest one to him shot out a long pipe that extended from its head, with a sucker around what had to be its mouth. They must have all been delighted by Alex’s sudden appearance, and they all crowded forward, blocking his way.

Alex backed up a step, wondering exactly what the things had been before their DNA had been distorted by the mix of gases in the crater. Once again, the suckered pipe shot out, trying to stick to him.

No time for this crap. The long pipes shot out again and again, trying to sucker onto him. But the next time one tried, he caught it and held on. The thing lunged, and he met the rush head-on, driving one armor-plated fist deep into the chitin plate on top of its head.

There was a solid crunch, and his fist sunk in to the elbow. He drew it out, and kicked the disgusting bag of flesh toward the others.

“Eat that.”

They did. Diving at the free meal, their pipes extended to stick onto the leaking meat bag. Alex grimaced as he saw the dead creature immediately begin to deflate as its fluids were sucked out.

While they were occupied, he darted around them and ran on.

Casey Franks led the remaining team back to the mountaintop’s inner wall. They were in a single close line, moving at a jog, following some sort of pathway. Tucked in behind her was Russell Burrows, gasping like a stranded fish, then came Drake Monroe, and Sam Reid brought up the rear.

The senior HAWC could only just make out the outline of Franks up ahead in the thick fog. He turned one way then the other, trying to see and hear everything. They were basically retracing the steps from their arrival, but back then where they had encountered a hazy field of sludge with the occasional mound of rock or tree stump-like growth. Now it was a virtual forest of all manner of alien-looking things.

The weird shit was growing, no doubt, and now Sam wasn’t even sure whether the oddities surrounding them were animal, vegetable, or none of the above. And he hated every atom of them, especially as for defense all the HAWCs had left were their wits and a few remaining knives.

The big man could feel eyes on them. Things watched them, scuttled away to avoid being seen and, he was damn sure, followed them.

The brume was so thick now they could only see for a dozen feet or so before the swirling walls closed in and blanketed everything. But his earphones picked up the soft slithering, creeping, and the occasional heavy drop of a foot that conjured images of an elephant’s stump-like limb thumping down.

About twenty minutes in, they entered a small clearing, and as Franks accelerated she ran into the first strand. The female HAWC cursed, flayed, and caused the group to bunch up behind her.

“Watch out. Fucking shit sticks to you.” She pulled her knife and slashed at the sticky rope-like strands.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam yelled over their heads, and tried to push forward but Russell Burrows edged backwards bumping into him.

“I don’t like this,” the NASA scientist said softly over his shoulder.

“No shit.” Sam engaged his quad lenses, turned one way then the other, and then looked upwards.

His vision was still limited, but he could just make out the mesh strung between the glistening stumps. He also saw that many of them now seemed to hum, passing along the vibrations from Franks’ tugging. He flicked his quads between light-enhance and then telescopic — the glistening ropes seemed to be everywhere. He then flicked to thermal and caught a sudden flash of heat, coming in fast.

“HAWCs, eyes out.”

Monroe pulled his two blades, and held them dagger-like in each hand. Sam pulled his longest blade, and yanked Russell behind him. In front of him, Franks was becoming manic.

“Fucking, fucking hell.” The weird string refused to break or cut. “Like… sticky…”

The creature dropped soundlessly. It was broad, rubbery looking, and had extremely long and powerful limbs.

“Behind you,” Russell shrieked from around Sam’s shoulder.

Sam turned in time to see the creature’s long arms and legs separate from four to eight, and then every one of them grabbed at the female HAWC. Monroe leaned in, but one of the segmented limbs flicked him away as if he weighed nothing.

Franks tried to turn but she was tangled in the mesh, and raised both of her own blades as the thing loomed before her. “Fuck you!” She went to do a double stab, but one of her arms was still caught, and more cable-like strands were sprayed over her from below. She still held an arm up, but was becoming totally covered as the creature physically netted her in a cocoon.

She fell sideways, cursing and yelling. Then the thing reached down to hook the cocoon and began to drag her away from the group.

Russell was frozen, hands up at each side of his face, and mouth open in a long, silent scream.

“Like hell.” Sam charged in.

Sam leaped over Franks and crashed into the thing’s leathery body, bringing a double fisted blow down in the center of its wire-haired back.

It dropped Casey and spun, making a noise like a rattlesnake. Eight long arms closed around Sam. He felt the monstrous strength of the grip as the limbs compressed, and he was drawn in close to a muscular body. There was a scraping sound and he looked up into the top of his visor — what he initially thought were two smaller limbs at the front of the horrifying monkey-like face had now extended forward, and on the end of each was a six-inch fang. They jabbed and scraped down the clear visor, leaving both a gouge in the super tough polymer and a milky trail as they went.

The thing moved fast, scrabbling at him, jostling him in its arms or legs or whatever the limbs were as it angled its mouthparts, trying to find an area of his body where it could penetrate his skin. Sam knew the armor plates of his suit should hold up, but didn’t want to take the chance of those six-inch tusks finding a space in between the plating where they might be able to dig in.

The big HAWC had his longest blade in his left hand and pushed hard to give himself thrusting room. But the thing pulled him in closer. The MECH’s hydraulics began to assert themselves and coupled with Sam’s muscles he could just hold it at bay. He grimaced from the effort, and found his legs becoming stiff. He glanced down and saw the huge bag of the thing’s abdomen prodding forward to squirt white liquid onto his column-like legs. The stuff began to harden into sticky rope.

Jesus! He kicked out while it was still wet, knowing he needed to keep his legs apart or they’d be glued together in an instant. Once down, he was as good as dead.

The manically moving arms and legs of the creature were covered in bristled hairs, same as the body, but the underside that faced him was relatively smooth and shiny — it was this area that Sam attacked.

He stabbed hard, but his blade refused to bite. He couldn’t penetrate a hide that was more like toughened leather. He tried again and again, but finally the hardened Ka-bar’s steel blade snapped. The grip on him tightened further. He felt his ribs begin to creak inside his suit.

Sam became aware of Monroe back on his feet and circling them looking for an opening. The young HAWC darted in, leaped, and used a two-handed grip to stab down on the thing’s back, but his hands and blade bounced off.

The bulbous abdomen pointed backwards and sprayed the young HAWC’s legs.

“Shit.” He fell and dragged himself away as it hardened to cable-like strength.

“Stay back,” Sam yelled. He looked up into the thing’s emotionless face. It had multiple eyes, a simian visage, and the two moving palps — like stubby arms growing out of its cheeks. He pushed out, drawing back from the thing inch by inch, and then using the creature’s grip and his own massive strength, he shot his head forward to butt the thing dead center.

The creature’s head was rocked back, and the grip loosened just enough for him to lift his arms and grab hold of the base of just one limb. He exerted every ounce of his technology-assisted strength on the single arm where the segment joined to the body. There was a satisfying crack, and then like pulling a cooked crab leg from its body, the limb came away, dragging with it a good-sized piece of meat and a gush of thick, dark blood.

The creature spasmed as its movements became ever more frantic. The rattling hiss boiled from its mouth as the fangs struck over and over again. Sam grabbed at the next limb, gritted his teeth and then jerked back hard. It too tore away.

The thing must have decided that making a meal of these creatures wasn’t worth being dismembered, and in an instant, it leaped above him, swinging away to vanish back into the mist ceiling.

Russell Burrows sat down hard and held his head. Sam just dropped to his knees and sucked in huge droughts of air. This place was a combination insane asylum and seventh level of Hell; and demons abound.

His heart was galloping in his chest, and he concentrated on slowing it. Monroe came and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Intense.”

Sam chuckled and looked up. “Just another day at the office.” He pointed at the cocooned Casey Franks. “And that’s enough laying down on the job for her.”

The cocoon bucked and wriggled as curses could be heard emanating from within the silken bag. Monroe turned to Sam.

“Hey, are you sure we should let her out? Might be dangerous.”

Sam grinned as he pushed to his feet. “Yeah, but we better stand back.” He turned to stare out into the near-impenetrable fog in the direction Alex had headed. The Arcadian was out there alone and this mad place was going all to shit. If this was what was happening here, what must it be like at ground zero, where the Orlando had come down?

“Hurry up in there, buddy,” he said softly.

Monroe got the sticky cords off the top half of Franks, and with her arms free, the female HAWC rapidly slashed away the rest.

“What — the fuck — was that thing?”

“A demon,” Russell said, holding himself. “And this is Hell.”

“Cut that shit out,” Sam growled. Because it’s exactly what’s on all our goddamn minds.

“Nah, remember the manifesto from the Orlando?” Monroe ventured. “I bet that was one of the spider specimens — tarantulas — all grown up. They had two of them.”

“Two?” Sam cursed. “Then we’re outta here.” He turned to Russell Burrows. “Mister Burrows?”

“I think I’m okay.” The scientist dropped his arms to his sides, still looking pale behind his glass visor.

Sam looked to Franks. “You good?”

“Say the word.” She sheathed her blade.

Sam took one last look around. The light was fading fast, and any advantage they had would vanish with it. “What advantage,” he muttered, and turned to the woman.

“Then take us out.” Sam wiped the ichor off his hands. “And keep your damn eyes open, soldier.”