Nightmare Factory, page 35
He dragged Lux across the rough ground; rocks and roots dug into his skin, but he choked back the sounds of that pain, too. The man pushed him up against a board fence. Lux heard the sounds of animals behind him. The grunts and squeals of hogs. That much he had learned in the last few weeks. He’d watched a wild hog in the woods chase down a possum and just trample it to death before feeding on it. Mister Bill had said that was where bacon came from, but he had a hard time believing it could be true.
“Food for my hogs, that’s what I’ll do with you. That way, I can get some use out of you. You feed them, and then they feed me. Poetic justice, I think it’s called.”
Lux felt the cold, wet snout of one animal pushing against his back through the fence. “No, mister, please!” He hated himself for begging, but the terror was taking hold. He saw no way out of this.
The man laughed as he picked Lux up like he was nothing and tossed him over the low board rails of the pen. “I’m gonna have fun watching this shit.”
Lux looked up to see the hogs crowding around him, their mouths making horrible sounds. A large black one bit one of the others to get closer. Blood spouted from the other pig’s neck. Lux felt something release inside and knew he’d wet himself. Mom would be mad, but it wouldn’t matter, anyway. He heard the man laugh and then suddenly stop. The hunter’s head had a black hole in the middle of it, and he slumped forward over the top rail of the pen, then tumbled noisily inside with the hogs.
Back behind where the man had been, a large black wall sat nearly motionless. That hadn’t been there a minute ago.
All of the hogs moved over to investigate the new body, the one that always had brought them food. Now it appeared he was food. Lux’s eyes moved behind the hogs’ disgusting meal and back to the thing by the trees.
The black wall was moving closer. It must be some kind of ship, but it appeared to just be hanging there in the air.
“Lux!”
He knew that voice. He loved that voice. Then he heard a small bark. His eyes filled with tears.
CHAPTER
EIGHTY
KOVACH
Wispy, pale hair floated around the creature’s inhuman face. Its eyes were half-open. There was an internal ring of white surrounding oversized black irises. Scaled eyelids that seemed to shimmer with an iridescent hue. I could see the almost unmistakable human influence. The skeletal framework, the muscles and tendon layout beneath the strange skin, but where had these madmen gone from there? Artificial DNA, Ada had said. That seemed to indicate no limit to the madness they could build.
“So, they just designed these in a computer program or something? Match up the traits they want and presto, designer monsters?”
“That would be an imprecise analogy, but likely not that far off the mark,” Ada replied. “Some of the files seem to indicate original source DNA was used, although the host subject’s classification is very strange. It’s completely unknown to me.”
“Well, shit, so they may have modeled it after something else, some other creature?” I stepped back, taking in the entire scene at once. There were at least a few hundred tanks in here. Dozens of them were empty, the thick tubes shattered, the specimens’ connections hung limply, their attachment points dripping oily blood.
“Christ on a bike,” I whispered.
Knowing there was a connection between what they had done to me and these creatures pushed me onward. I needed to find something that would keep me alive. It had to be here. I felt myself taking stumbling steps like a man emerging from a coma. It was surreal; it was painful to consider… maybe I should just give up. Go quietly before…
I looked back through the adjacent chamber at the trail of dismembered bodies. “Is that my future?” Maybe Dad was right. There were things worse than death.
My hands grabbed the side of my head to block it all out. The smell, the sounds, the horror, and the pain. Yes, the pain was coming back stronger than ever.
Let me be clear on something. Pain is something I am okay with; it’s part of my job description. I’ve been shot, stabbed, and partially run over by a truck. It all fucking hurt. That’s just damage; that kind of pain I can pack-up until I’m either unconscious or the mission is over.
What my own body was doing to me is something altogether different. I’d been unable to describe it the first time I went through it, but let me assure you, it takes agony to all new levels of outrageous fun. Right now, I felt like someone was shoving a glowing, hot rod through my intestines while simultaneously flaying the skin from my bones. Now, I had a glimpse of what I might have been or maybe still would become. Could that be what the drugs are stopping, a complete metamorphosis? I briefly considered going back to rouse the doctor and make him answer my goddamn questions.
There was going to be a serious butcher’s bill coming due for what was going on down here. And I thought I knew who was going to do the settling. This place, this tech, was an abomination. I was an abomination, and today we were all going to be destroyed. I slammed a chair against one of the tubes. It simply bounced off. The damn thing was solid. I picked up a piece of one of the shattered ones. “Armorglass.”
“How do we destroy this place?”
“That would be in direct violation of Alliance Uniform Military Code of Conduct number 108,” Ada stated.
“Screw that. This isn’t government property,” I yelled.
She continued, “Also, destroying the containment vessels might not be wise, Joseph. That appears to be how the first ones were able to escape and kill the staff.”
I took a moment to look over at the empty tubes and realized she was right. Some of those units had fractures, perhaps where chunks of the ceiling had crashed into them, allowing the liquid inside to drain out. Others appeared to have been smashed from the inside.
“Well, shit… Ada, tell me you have something. What can I do to bring all this shit down?”
She never got a chance to respond, or if she did, I couldn’t hear it. Up at the entrance came an enormous crash as one of the Decimators bulled into the lab. The mechanical behemoth moved through columns and was collapsing the ceiling like it was tissue. Its head was flattened, and I could see a ring of sensors; the damn thing could literally look in every direction at once and undoubtedly could see in every spectrum that I could. It briefly stopped in front of the chair where Doctor Magnus’ body sat like a limp rag doll. It bent close, then stomped down with an enormous metal foot, leaving nothing but a grisly puddle of flesh and blood behind.
I may be wrong, but there seemed to be something oddly personal in the machine’s actions. That thought had to wait as I was running now. I didn’t have a destination; I was simply moving away from the threat. Yes, I am an enhanced soldier in an elite squad, but I have to balance my abilities against the realities of the moment. The reality right now was I was about to also get my ass stomped by a two-ton metal foot. I’d already seen what that could do to a body and preferred to go out on my own terms, thank you very much.
“Did I ever tell you why your mom had to change the drapes out in the bedroom?”
“Dad?” What the actual fuck? How in the hell did he do this? He could connect to me anywhere when the computer inside my own skull couldn’t even reliably do it. “Not now, Pops.”
“Yeah, I guess not. That one is probably still a bit salty for your innocent ears.
So, you having fun saving humanity?”
“Not really!” The fucking machine was smashing through rows of the glass tanks, spilling the mutant creatures onto the floor like commercial fishermen emptying their nets on the deck.
Pops continued, ignoring the sounds of destruction. “Hey, I’m all for saving humanity. It’s the people I have trouble getting on board with. They just pretty much suck.”
I didn’t exactly disagree with that.
“You went down there, didn’t you? To the sublevels at Ranier.”
“Yes,” I admitted, rounding a corner like a major league all-star rounding second base. I couldn’t wait to hear how much of an ass reaming I was going to get for this stunt.
“And you lost your grandpa’s truck. The sensor on it is showing up a hundred miles away from you.”
Wait, that was what he was upset about? And… he had sensors on the truck and me? That would have been helpful to know yesterday. Several of the Furies were rising to their feet. Their bodies moved in ways that were very unhuman like and… well, just wrong.
I set up on one of the solid metal racks and clicked the selector on the Rattler MK4 to the plasma double flechette rounds. I took aim center mass on the first of the Furies and squeezed off a round, the familiar reverse pong echoing throughout the chamber.
“Oh, hell yeah, I know that sound,” my dad shouted. “Get some!”
The round sizzled into the creature’s flesh center-mass, then seemed to stop. The Furie looked down, seemingly more confused than injured by the plasma blast that should have sliced through its body like butter. It then raised its oversized head, centering its eyes on me. I’m no expert on reading alien expressions but, well… I think it might have been pissed.
“So, we’re running, that’s your plan.”
“You’re not here, Dad. It’s a good plan,” I panted.
“You remember when I told you not to go there? I know. I know, never listen to your father. Just like when you were five, and I told you not to put the fork in the outlet. Like a dumb fuck, what did you do?”
Something hit me from behind, sending me sprawling. I rolled out of the way as the creature slammed a claw down so hard the rock-hard floor shattered. I rolled up between two of the growth tanks and pulled my blade.
The Furie looked down at the weapon, then waved his own claw. The green light reflected off the chitinous blade, giving it an ethereal glow. Yeah, his knife was longer and looked way cooler than mine. Maybe I shouldn’t have shot him first. The smoking hole in his chest looked painful. I could understand why he was… agitated.
The creature clicked his claw closed, and I watched in horrific fascination as the curved blade-hand snapped closed into a serrated groove on the other side of the claw. It was damn fast. Like Mantis shrimp level of speed. I was sure if I watched this at super slow-mo speed later, it would still be too fast to see. Note to self, don’t get between the claws of a Furie.
I made a careful show of sheathing my Heidelberg blade, at the same time drawing my sidearm and shooting it in the face.
That did some damage.
Not enough. The thing backhanded me so hard I defied gravity and sailed across the room. The back side of that claw hand is no better than the front. I could see my rifle but barely made it a step before the thing’s freakishly long arm snapped out directly toward my head. The powerful claw snapped just in front of my face as I went low and slid under the blow. I punched up into what I hoped was a groin as the fingers of my other hand found the familiar grip of the weapon. The Furie didn’t even flinch. That punch would have laid a marine out cold, but it barely noticed. Grabbing up the MK4, I sent two more of the high-power rounds into the beast, staggering it back. God Almighty, these things were tough to kill.
“Try the legs,” the voice in my head suggested.
My shoulders shrugged as if to say, ‘Why not?’ I shot at where a femoral artery in a human would be, and the thing dropped to a knee instantly. That was helpful knowledge. Then the damn Decimator stomped it. Just when I was about to learn some useful intel on the enemy, the damn battle droid smeared it into paste. I shot the Warbot in the face as well.
“That was stupid,” I heard Dad say. Was he watching all this? He can see everything I just did? That scared me more than the twenty-foot android bearing down on me.
Then, my shoulder exploded into white hot, searing pain. Oh, yeah, they have lasers, of course they do. Earlier, when I compared the pain in my belly to a white-hot rod, yeah… I was full of shit. The real thing made me realize the error of that comparison. My suit’s armor had dissipated little of the blast, and now I had a clean hole drilled through my shoulder.
Thankfully, it was not in my dominant arm. I fired off two of the plasma rounds before Ada switched to explosive projectiles. The Rattler seamlessly switched into rail-gun mode and sent its deadly barrage toward the hulking metal giant.
I would tell you in glorious detail of all the damage the rounds did, but my feet were determined to carry me in the opposite direction at an increasingly reckless level of speed. I heard it crash down behind me, which was a good thing, then I heard it crash again… which I took as ‘less good.’ The third crash let me know it was not down. It was pursuing.
“About the truck. You just going to leave it there?”
I wanted to give the old man some witty comeback, but I was too fucking scared and too damaged. A door flashed into view, and Ada alerted me it was stairs. I swung wide and entered it at a flat sprint, gaining three or four steps at a time. I heard the impact as the giant mech warrior slammed into the rock wall below where the door had been.
By the sounds of breakage below, I knew the one Decimator was not alone, and in the next few minutes the rest of the Furies would also be unleashed. Yeah, instead of destroying this place, I had freed all the freaky, murderous beasts, but hey, I was still alive, so that was a win, right?
So far, I had angered a horde of giant killer robots, unleashed a mutant army of alien looking monsters, and maybe killed the doctor that had saved my life. Anything else… oh, yeah, finding the lifesaving medicines had been a fail… an epic fail. Still, the day was young. What else might I fuck up?
“I’m calling a service—they can get the truck. Can’t count on you for jack shit, Son. You’re irresponsible.”
The call ended. I held my arm as Ada did something to help dull the pain. Grunting, I placed one foot after the other. I needed to go find my dog and a way out of the fucking nightmare and go maybe find a quieter place to die.
CHAPTER
EIGHTY-ONE
BANSHEE
Banshee Team dropped out of a darkening sky like a yoyo on a string. Packer had been right; the ride hadn’t been smooth. The deep ache in her bones was unsettling, and Bayou could see the effects on Carol and the boy had been worse. For his part, though, Lux had been exuberant and for the most part, very healthy. His mother had held onto him constantly since being reunited. All the worry had drained from the woman’s face upon seeing him there in that valley.
Bayou had treated his leg, a deep angry gouge that looked painful but seemed free of infection. She also gave him the meds for a concussion and closed the gash on his forehead. The kid had tons of questions, good questions, at least in her mind. She didn’t know how the boy had been before the missiles fell, but she recognized he had the makings of a survivor. Could she have done what he did at that age? She doubted it.
The ship’s AI plotted a rough course from the autocar’s last known position and calculated Lux had traveled nearly sixty miles in just over four weeks. He’d told them about the family he’d been with for a good bit of that time. He was resilient, and his only worry had seemed to be about the dog and his mom.
Based on some descriptions Lux had offered and quickly cross-referencing the family names with public records, the ship’s AI found the home of Bill and Laura Johnson. Packer had done a quick flyby of the rural neighborhood on his way to Rainier. As feared, the neighborhood had been swallowed up by the predatory vines. The ruins of demolished houses were the only thing visible. Lux had watched it pass by on the monitor, his face a solemn mask. Clutching the puppy to his chest, he let his mother pull him back into her arms.
“They’re dead, aren’t they?”
Carol was unused to this child; he was not the same as he’d been when she’d last seen him, but the same could probably be said of her. She thought of using some other euphemism, but the fire in her son’s eyes let her know he didn’t need shielding. The world is the world. He knew its horrors even better than her. She nodded.
“And Dad?” he asked, the puppy’s tiny face scrunched up tightly into his own. Despite his strength and courage, Carol saw the eyes filling with tears and threatening to erupt.
She pursed her lips; she’d hated his dad but also had loved him once. That was how life was. Together, they had made this wonderfully strong, brave creation sitting in her lap. She gave a tiny nod. “Yes, the entire Atlanta metroplex was destroyed.” She studied him closely. “I’m sure it was quick.”
The boy looked away, then nodded. “That’s good, I guess.”
“On the deck in thirty,” the dropship pilot called out.
Bayou pulled herself away from watching the pair and returned to battle mode. None of this was by the books anymore. Survival was the new mission, and getting her people back was the only thing that mattered. Halo and Priest flanked her at the edge of the ramp, awaiting her signal. They checked helmet seals, then lowered visors. On Packer’s signal, she pressed the switch on an overhead panel to lower the door. The ground was coming up fast. She could see traces of the weird vines and what looked like an abandoned industrial area.
The ramp stopped just as the craft came to an abrupt stop two meters off the ground. Banshee was on the ground and headed to preassigned coordinates in under four seconds; the craft was out of site far overhead in six.
Priest located the transport hidden off to one side and pulled the Wulf into the compound. Bayou wanted its firepower in close, plus it was a safe refuge if it all went to shit. She tapped her comms.
“Banshee actual to Banshee-6. G-Force, you copy?”
She heard a hiss, then nothing. She tried Prowler and got the same.
“Looks like we’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way, boys. Let’s break out the party favors.”
They were above the landing pad. She knew this was where her other two had entered the base. They had the footage for them until they went inside. While Halo and Priest keyed the massive doors, Bayou studied the surrounding area. The woods had a blue hue that took her a moment to understand. It was the stinging vines; Thunder Vines was what Kovach had called them. They were surrounding the perimeter of the complex, but only a few were in the clearing. Why?
