Chapter 37 – End of Line
A/N: So my new goal is to have this story finished this year. Resolved, edited, polished... let's do it together, yes? I think you'll like this.
Subject T, of course, made the most noise. As he tried to ascend the ladder, his slimy hands and feet repeatedly refused to support his weight; they simply slid out from beneath him and there were several times where he nearly plunged back onto the wet cement below. Lara and Mike reached the top of the ladder an easy two minutes before Subject T, and he paused to readjust his grip and to crane his beefy neck to peer upward. He could see encircled in the faintly illuminated hatch Lara's exhausted, grimy face. Even though he was several feet below, he recognized the look in her eyes, and knew that she needed him. If he could not go on, or somehow could not make this climb, she would give up, too; and so he continued his slow, awkward climb, not caring how long it took him to catch up. His heart thudded erratically in his chest, and with each beat, he could feel the rage blooming deep within his consciousness – rage and a powerful arousal that he knew would only intensify the longer he was this close to Lara without being able to feed on something or being able to fuck something. The hunger gnawed inside him like a swarm of insects, buzzing and feasting and tearing little bits of his composure away. Before long, he would have to eat. It was that simple. Eat, or he would lose his last bit of control.
Mike's haggard face appeared next to hers, and it was suddenly as though some dam burst within Subject T, filling his head with a new, stronger rush of those animal feelings: fuck, feast, and claim. In that moment, those things were all that mattered. Escape and living beyond this nightmare were forgotten, and everything narrowed down around him to what was happening in the tunnel. Mike was too close to Subject T's mate for comfort, and some part of his new, beastly being would never be able to move beyond that. He threw his head back, letting out a roar of warning, reaching up for Mike with claws ready as he drew closer. With no small amount of satisfaction, he watched Mike's features fill with understanding; watched his jaw clench and saw the glint of fear that burned in his tired eyes. Good. He knew his time was limited. Mike's hand crept towards his weapon, and Subject T's scarred face contorted into a mask of wide-eyed fury. For a moment, he forgot where he was, and launched himself into the air toward the hatch, prepared to kill to survive and protect what was his. He was still too far, and scrabbled to grab onto the rungs, pulling himself upward further only with his hands, his legs dangling freely beneath him. Mike stared down into his gaping mouth, watching the blood and foam roll between Subject T's clicking teeth as he drew closer, and pushed Lara away from the hole, quickly freeing a knife from his boot.
As Subject T leapt upwards and came within the last few yards of the hole, one of his feet squeaked loudly, slipping out from beneath him and tangling itself squarely sideways between two ladder rungs and his clawed hands finally lost their grip. He swung backwards, bashing the back of his head against the concrete tunnel wall with a wet crack, and hung there when his foot remained wedged and twisted between the two slick rungs. All the rage drained from him; all of the blood-boiling hatred towards his wife for leaving him, and all of the soul-siphoning yet still reverent loathing towards God or Buddha or Xenu whatever the fuck cosmic deity was up there for squashing her like an insect beneath its thumb and taking her away, and the bitter need for revenge against Richard Ashford - they were all gone, and suddenly he was just Thomas DeSalvo again, terrified and hurt and miserably alone inside his own monstrous head. He let himself hang there, comically suspended upside down; a mess of claws and wide black eyes amidst all that strange flesh, and this time, rather than his familiar jarring howl, he uttered a rattling whimper. It was the most defeated sound either of them had ever heard.
Lara's heart plunged icily into her stomach, and she covered her mouth with her trembling hands. Mike took a slow, deep breath, and without a word, slowly wormed his way back onto the ladder. Lara groped for his hand, trying to pull him away from the hatch.
"He could kill you. You can't go down there."
"Like you're supposed to be the fucking expert on what that thing is going to do next?" Mike glowered darkly at her over the lip of the hole, and Lara slammed one fist into the floor, baring her teeth at him.
"Will you shut your goddamn mouth and STOP?!" She grabbed at his hair as he started his way down the ladder, and he pushed at her hands, growling and grabbing for the edges of the tunnel to pull himself back out. He shoved Lara backwards onto the floor, and she held onto his collar and simply let herself fall, letting his weight pull him down onto her and further from the still dangling Subject T. Mike pushed away from her and sat up, but didn't stand. He warily eyed the mouth of the tunnel as another mournful whine echoed around them, clutching his knife again, and Lara covered his free hand with one of hers.
"Just let me do this, please. Please."
Without waiting for him to reply, Lara crawled away, and lowered herself onto the top rung of the ladder. Pausing, she closed her eyes, silently trying to calm her pounding heart. Without opening them, she called out, "Subject T?"
No response from below. Mike huffed and got to his feet, taking a step towards her. Lara raised one hand, and he stopped. Her stomach clenched and she bit into her lip, making a small and choked sound. 'Now what? Did you really expect an easy way to do this?', she thought bitterly, and her lips pulled back into a grimace. In the back of her mind, a sudden thought.
"…Thomas? Tom. It's Lara. I'm… I'm coming down."
In the darkness, Subject T raised his head to stare up at her, his name from her lips wrenching him just slightly from the comfortable blanket of numbness he'd wrapped himself in so tightly. Everything seemed to be moving so slowly; even just turning his head seemed to take a lifetime. He could smell her now, all of her. The sweat, the blood, the faintest trace of her shampoo beneath all the grime and the fear, and the delicious scent of her tired and vulnerable flesh; all of it wormed its way into his senses, and hunger coiled heavily in his gut like a serpent, ready to strike. His limbs began to twitch, to tense, ready for his prey to get just close enough.
Slowly, knuckles white as her tired hands fought to hold onto the slippery rungs a second time, she continued downward. After the tenth rung, she stood close enough to be able to peer through her feet and see his swollen, skinned foot, twisted between the ladder and the wall. He made that low, piteous sound again, and Lara hooked her arm through one rung, her shoulder groaning in protest. With her other hand, she reached down into the shadows.
"Tom, you have to take my hand."
As her face drew closer, Lara could see more of Subject T's warped face form in the shadows. Beneath the glimmer of his weeping black eyes, his lipless mouth gaped in a crooked and tooth-split grin. Glittering in the flickering shadows of the tunnel, she could see his fingers flexing slowly, and she watched as his claws sheared off little stinking chunks of his fingers. They rained down onto the cement slab at the bottom of the ladder below with a serious of faint, wet smacks; and for a moment, Lara felt a strangling swirl of terror rise in her chest. Something was wrong, and now it was far, far too late. Mouth agape, she stared dumbly into Subject T's wide open maw as he stretched one oozing hand up towards her; slowly at first, and when she flinched away and began to reach for the rung above her to pull herself up, the slow grabs quickly became frantic, and she could feel the very tips of his claws just barely ghosting against the sides of one of her boots.
Subject T's foot squeaked and squelched between the rungs as he began to flail, bending over and over at the waist and trying desperately to sit up enough to stand on his other foot while still grabbing for Lara. Tears pricked her eyes, and she swallowed the monstrous lump forming in her throat and pawed them away with one hand. Her shoulder throbbed, and her stomach burned, starting right under her skin, and the pain chewed all the way through her muscles, spreading in waves outward. Lara knew her body could not handle much more like this, and this time; rather than the fear, she found herself full of white-hot anger. She didn't want to lose him like this, but how stupid had she been to think it wouldn't happen this way? 'Of course, the monsters always get hungry eventually', she thought, with a bitter bark of laughter that sounded more like a sob. Craning her neck, she allowed herself one last look down at Subject T, and watched with a clenched jaw as he finally managed to pull himself upright.
Having seen enough, she scrambled her way back up the ladder, suddenly very much aware of how sweaty and tired her hands had become. When Subject T roared beneath her, guttural and angry, her weariness seemed to evaporate, and replaced itself quickly with panic. It wouldn't be long before he freed himself and was able to climb after her, and with each rung she climbed, she saw more clearly the horror blooming on Mike's face. He reached down through the hole for her, stretching his arm down as far as he could. From below came another squeak, followed by a loud, wet pop, and the ladder began to shake as Subject T dragged himself upward and after her. Lara's hand missed as she reached for Mike's, and she nearly cartwheeled backward off the ladder before her other hand found purchase on another cold steel rung. The tears returned just as quickly as they'd gone and she reached up for Mike again, blue eyes bright and terrified in the circle of light from above. Mike's fingertips brushed hers; his grab was too short.
Subject T's face appeared beneath Lara, maniacal and terrible in the shadows cast by her body, and Mike grabbed for her again just as two of his claws sliced into her left calf. Her leg buckled, and her choked scream echoed painfully in Mike's ears as his fingers finally laced through her own. Jerking her up and through the hatch, he held her against his chest for a moment, reaching down to tear away the bottom half of her pant leg to better get at her wounded leg, which had left a bright trail of red splotches against the discolored tile. The meaty part of her calf was deeply and jaggedly lacerated; painted with blood, and a glimpse of the pink glint of muscle peeking out through the wound sent a little jolt through his already excitable stomach. It wasn't good, but it wasn't terrible, either. As long as she could walk, at least a little, they might have a chance.
The ladder jerked violently as Subject T neared the mouth of the tunnel, and Mike knew he didn't have much time. The leg could wait. Lara shook her head, pale, and waved a hand at the hatch, trying to take a step backwards and slipping in her own blood. She went down hard on her tailbone, clutching at her leg yet still doing her best to put distance between herself and the approaching beast. Her world was suddenly reduced to that hatch, and her dribbling leg was so unimportant. Mike approached the hole and grabbed again for his weapon, his fingers still sticky and dripping with Lara's blood. He pointed his weapon through first, and then leaned forward.
Subject T had gained impressive ground, and his face bobbed nearly right below Mike's. Without thinking, Mike squeezed the pistol's trigger, and it jerked twice in his sweaty grasp before tumbling from his fingers, bouncing off of the howling beast's skull and into the murky sludge below with a muted, faraway splash. The shot took Subject T in one shoulder, and he screamed up at Mike in a great spray of red and yellow spittle. He willed his limbs to go further, only a few inches more; but his wounded arm and leg simply refused to move any further, tangled messes of dark blood and ruined flesh that hung loosely beside and beneath him. Finally, after what felt like forever, Mike watched as Subject T lost his grip on the ladder and followed the gun into the dark tunnel below.
His roar seemed to go on forever. Below, Mike couldn't see him, but could hear Subject T filling his great lungs and howling his hatred and pain until his vocal cords began to separate and tear in his throat; over and over. Lara released her leaking leg to cover her ears with both hands, softly crying and closing her eyes. It wasn't fair. He hadn't deserved any of this. The man that had been buried so deeply inside the hulking monster was nearly destroyed now, and even Lara had to admit that her ability to get through to him was nearly gone. They'd have to go on without him, because he was too dangerous now. Mike stared for another minute down the hole, tightly gripping the side of the tunnel and watching for any sign that Subject T might have started another attempt to climb back up, but all he saw was a glimpse of a dark shape, agitatedly pacing at the bottom of the ladder. He turned back to Lara, and they shared a look of silent understanding. It was time to go.
Slowly, Lara nodded, trying to wipe away her tears but only succeeding in smearing grimy blood all over her face. Mike barked out a small, surprised laugh, kneeling next to her and using the section of her pants he'd torn away to clean her face up, and then he began bandaging her leg. He first tore away the bottom half of the other leg of her pants, tore it into strips, and after wiping clean the slowly oozing gouges, began wrapping the strips around her calf one at a time until the wound was held closed. The teal scrubs were quickly made completely dark by the slow leak, and Lara watched with great worry and little protest as Mike quickly worked to finish her bandage. She had to hope that she could walk on her leg, or they were going to be in a whole new world of trouble. Neither of them would say it, but if she couldn't walk, they both knew it was a death sentence. Mike would have to leave her here to die.
Slowly, Mike pulled her to her feet. With a squeak, Lara tested putting her weight on her leg. It buckled at first, a hot wave of throbbing pain sweeping upward and into her buttocks. It was like fire crawling through her flesh every time she even thought about moving it. But adrenaline still ruled her blood, and despite the bite of agony every time she took a step, she was still ready to move. Pounding in her chest rapidly like eager war drums, her heart felt heavy and hot inside her. Part of her wanted to give up, and pleaded for her to stop and rest shrilly inside her head. But no. She hadn't come this far to give up now. She needed to see her mother's face one more time. There was too much to do. Too many uneaten pizzas, unread books, and unfinished dreams she's begun building before this mess. It wasn't going to end this way, and she would fight like hell to stay alive. Grabbing Mike's hand, she squeezed it tight, giving him a weak, wry smile, clutching her little pistol in her bloody, gaunt fingers.
"Are you sure you're ready?" He squeezed back, slinging the duffel bag over one shoulder and gripping the doorknob to go back out into the hallway. Faintly, they could hear the questioning, hungry sounds of their former coworkers, seeking a snack outside the door. The moans and thumps from outside seemed louder and more numerous now, but there was nowhere else to go. They'd have to risk it to find another way out. Behind them, Subject T's roars still hadn't tapered off. It seemed like he could go on forever, howling and banging his fists against the cement walls and splashing around in the murky muck.
Lara closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then nodded. It was time. They couldn't stay down here forever... didn't want to. Both were brought anew into determination by the furious sounds of their former comrade. They only had each other now. It was time to move on.
Slowly, carefully, Mike opened the door, and they braced themselves together for what might lie on the other side.