Chapter 35: Spitters
The piping screams had stopped and they didn't hear the beat of wings anymore—but one could only wonder how long it would be before the birds decided to look for prey.
"Let's head for that door." Karen said, already edging into the false, shadowy woods. Mikey started after her, trying to look up and watch his step at the same time. He tripped almost immediately, one foot kicking against a molded plastic rock, and barely caught himself before going into full sprawl.
"This ain't gonna work," Raph said, "Cole—Chad?"
He glanced back and saw that Chad was still huddled against the hatch, his pale, weasely face turned to the ceiling.
Karen had stopped and was waiting, peering up into the spaced branches, "Gotcha covered," She said.
Raph walked back, angry and frustrated and seriously uncomfortable; they were in a tight spot, Leo and the others could very well be fighting for their lives on the surface, and he wasn't going to waste time coddling some freaked-out Rocket chump. Still, they couldn't just leave him behind, at least not without making an effort.
"Chad. Hey, Cole." He reached out and tapped his arm, and Chad finally looked at him. His mild brown eyes were positively glassy with fear.
Raph sighed, feeling a little pity for the guy. He was an electrician, for crying out loud, and it seemed that ignorance had been his only real crime. "Look I understand you're scared, but if you stay here, you're gonna get killed. Your best bet is to come wit' us—and besides, we could use your help, you know more about this place than we do. Okay?"
Chad nodded shakily, "Yeah, okay. Sorry. I just—I'm scared."
"Join the club." Mikey tried, "Birds give me the creeps. The flying part's cool, but they're so weird, got those beady eyes and scaly feet—and have you ever noticed how they bob their heads all the time?" Mikey mock-shivered, and saw Chad relax a little bit, even trying a quivery smile.
"Okay." He said again more firmly. The walked back to where Musashi and Karen were standing, still watching the air above.
"You know how to work a semiautomatic?" Musashi asked.
"Oh. Yeah. I haven't ever used one, but I went target shooting a couple times with my brother, six or seven years ago…" He kept his voice low, listening for strange sounds.
Musashi looked directly at him, as if sizing him up—then nodded, and pulled a heavy-looking handgun out and handed it to Chad, "It's a nine-millimeter, holds eighteen. Standard KPD handout, but TEAM always preferred blades. I got more clips if you run out."
Chad nodded, taking the gun, and it was heavy, and, although he was still more scared than he'd ever been in all his thirty-four years, the solid weight of it in his hand was an incredible relief. "Thank you." He said and meant it. He'd lured these guys into a trap and they were giving him a gun: giving him a chance.
"Chad how 'bout you lead? We'll keep watch and we'll need a clear route so we won't have to worry about trippin' over stuff. Think ya can handle it?"
Chad nodded, and though he still looked too pale, Raph could see that he would hold it together. For a while, anyway.
Their guide stepped in front of Karen and headed roughly southwest, weaving a crooked path through the strange forest. Musashi noticed pretty quickly that having Chad lead didn't make much of a difference.
If you don't look where you're going, you're going to trip, she thought wearily, after the sixth time she ran into a fallen "log." No way around it.
The creatures hadn't put in an appearance or made any other sound. Just as well; Mikey thought walking through a plastic forest was enough for them to handle. It was a bizarre sensation, seeing the realistic-looking trees and undergrowth, feeling the moisture in the air—but also being aware that there were no smells of earth or growing things, no wind or tiny sounds of movement, no bugs. It was a dream-like experience, and an unnerving one.
Chad stopped.
"We're—there's kind of a clearing here," he said.
Karen turned, frowning at the others, "Should we skirt it?"
Musashi stepped forward, peering through the seemingly random scatter of trees to the opening ahead. It was at least fifty feet across, but she'd rather go out of their way; being dive-bombed by some giant bird didn't sound like fun at all.
"Yeah. Chad, veer right. We're going to—"
The rest of her words were lost as that high, warbling screech blasted through the unnatural forest, and a shape dove into the clearing and flew at them, extending talons a foot across.
It was no bird.
Musashi snatched the shuriken right out of Raph's hand, igniting it and hurling it. It wedged into the joint of the wing and the creature fell screaming and thrashing.
Before she could give Raph a high-five, it picked itself up.
They weren't quite sure what they were seeing, except that it was walking, skipping down the hill on four sturdy legs, like a mountain goat.
Like a skinned goat.
They heard a wet, rattling sound erupt from somewhere behind them, the sound of a snot-clogged throat being cleared, or a dog growling through a mouthful of blood.
The phlegmy rattling sounds seemed to be coming from somewhere ahead—
--and then Chad saw the creature coming slowly toward them from behind and barely held back a scream. It stopped fifteen or twenty feet away, and Chad still couldn't seem to get a good look; it was just too bizarre.
It was four-legged, with split hooves, like a ram or a goat, and was about the same size—but there was no fur, nor horns, nothing else that even remotely resembled a natural development. Its slender body was coated with tiny reddish-brown scales, like a snake's skin, but dull instead of shiny; at first glance, it looked like it was covered in dried blood. Its head was somehow amphibian, like a frog's—an earless flat face, small dark eyes that bulged out at the sides, a too-wide mouth—except there were pointed teeth sticking up form a protruding lower jaw, a bulldog's jaw, its head also covered in dried-blood scales.
The thing opened its mouth, exposing only a few sharp teeth, upper and lower, none of them in the front—and that terrible wet rattling sound came from the darkness of its throat, the bizarre call matched by others somewhere in the forest.
The call built, going louder and deeper as the thing raised its head, turning its hideous face to the ceiling—and in one sudden, jerking motion, it dropped its head and spat at them. A thick blob of reddish semiliquid stuff flew at them, at Karen, across the wide open space—
And Karen raised her arm to block it even as Musashi and Raph charged. The goop hit Karen's arm, would have hit her face if she hadn't blocked, and in response to the onslaught, the Spitter turned and jumped back in long, easy jumps that didn't denote panic or pain or any stress at all.
It loped back about twenty feet, then skipped nimbly in front of the connecting hatch. As if it knew it was blocking their escape.
The multiple cries from just out of sight didn't get any louder, but they didn't retreat, either. The gargling noises stopped, one at a time, the lack of targets giving them no reason to sing; suddenly, it was silent again, as quiet as it had been when they'd entered.
"What was that?"
"Wasn't even hurt." Chad whispered, replaying the attacks in his head which had looked quite vicious to him but hardly scratched its skin. He barely noticed as Karen touched the thick, wet handful of maroon goop on her sleeve—and hissed in pain, drawing her hand back as if she'd been burned.
"Stuff's toxic," She said, quickly wiping her fingers on her shirt and holding them up. The tops of the index and middle fingers on her left hand had gone an angry, inflamed red. She immediately sheathed her sword in the belt around her waist and pulled the shirt off, carefully avoiding contact with the acidic ooze, dropping it to the grass.
Chad felt sick. If Karen hadn't blocked…
"Okay-okay-okay." Raph breathed, his brow furrowed, "This is bad, we want out of here as fast as possible…you say there's a bridge?"
"Yeah, goes over the, uh, trench," Chad said quickly, "Like twenty feet across, I didn't see how deep it was."
"C'mon." Musashi said. She started walking toward the trees, striding quickly. Chad followed, Raph right behind. Musashi stopped about ten feet short, glancing at Karen.
"You want to cover, or me?" Karen asked softly.
"Me," Musashi said, "I draw their fire. You guys run, and head down, got it? Get across, get to the door—if you can, help me out—"
Her face was solemn, "—If you can't, you can't."
Chad felt a by-now-too-familiar rush of shame. They're protecting me, they don't even know me and I got them into this…If he could do something to return the favor, he would, although he was suddenly quite sure that he'd never be able to even things out; he owed these guys his life, a couple times over already.
"Musashi you can't!" Raph objected. "We should just go out there and strike hard and fast."
Musashi merely shook her head stubbornly. "You think I can't handle it?"
"It's better if these things don't touch us…we don't know enough…" Karen stumbled, unsure of how to explain it.
"You mean we could 'catch' it, whatever it is they have?" Mikey asked, voice high and nervous.
"Maybe…" Karen admitted, "So distance attacks are best…"
"Ready?"
"Wait—" Karen turned and jogged back to where she'd dropped the sweatshirt. The Spitter by the hatch stood silent and immobile as a statue, watching them. She scooped up the shirt and hurried back, slipping a pocket knife out of her pack. She cut off the offending sleeve, letting it fall, then handed the rest to Musashi.
"If you're going to be standing still, keep your face covered," She said, "Since they don't seem to notice cuts and slashes, you won't need to see, to attack. Once we're across, I'll give a yell. And if it's not safe, I'll—"
The rattling, peremptory calls had started up again, making Chad think of cicadas for some reason, the almost mechanical ree-ree-reee sound of cicadas on a hot summer night. He swallowed hard, trying to pretend to himself that he was ready.
"Outta time," Musashi said, "Get ready to go—" Without waiting for a reply, Musashi put the shirt over her head, holding it open at the bottom so she could see the floor, and ran ahead.
--and there was a rapid patpatpat, and the black material over Musashi's face was suddenly dripping with great strings of the poison red snot, and she jerked her hand at them.
--and Karen said, "Now!" and Chad ran, head down, seeing only Karen's boots sprinting in front of him, a blur of gray rock, his own thin legs as he sprinted. He heard a gurgling cry to his left and ducked down even farther, terrified—
--and there was the thump of wood in front of him, and then he was on the bridge, flat wooden slats rippling underfoot, tied with scrawny twine. He saw the vee-shaped gorge underneath, saw that it was deep, that it had been dug into the earth beneath the Planet, forty fifty feet—
And then he was back on gray land, before vertigo could even occur to him. He ran, thinking of how wonderful it was that all he needed to think about was Karen's boots, his heart hammering. Seconds or minutes later, he didn't know, the boots slowed, and Chad dared to look up. The wall, the wall and there was the hatch! They'd made it!
"Musashi go!" Karen screamed, taking a few running steps back the way they'd come, her semi up and ready, "Go!"
Chad turned, saw Musashi rip off the black hood, saw the handful of Spitters grouped loosely in front of her, six, seven of them, calling once more. Musashi tore through their ranks, and at least two of them spat, but Musashi was fast, fast enough that only a tiny bit hit her shoulder. The monstrous creatures started after her in their jumping, hopping movements, not as fast but close.
Chad pointed the nine-millimeter in the direction of the Spitters, ready to shoot if he thought he could get a clear shot, as Musashi hit the bridge.
Musashi felt the bridge drop an inch or two about half a second before the ropes snapped. And all she heard was a whoosh sound, and then the knuckles of her right hand crashed into rock, and she was dangling over a very deep chasm. Above, more shots, closer, and a shout from Raph that was cut off as more bullets thundered.
Hand over hand was hard enough without bleeding knuckles.
"She's right here!"
A cracked, hysterical shout from directly above. Musashi tilted her head back, saw Chad crouched at the lip of the chasm, his work shirt pulled up over his nose, his gaze frantic and scared.
"Musashi, give me your hand!" He screamed, and reached down as far as he could, flakes of concrete falling from beneath his sliding boots. It only took a split-second for Musashi to react to his command. Chad Cole stood all of five-eight and probably weighed one-fifty sopping wet. With his clothes on. What was more, he looked like some mad turtle hunkered down in the shell of his shirt.
Funny, and touching in an idiotic way, and although her hand still hurt, she'd actually forgotten to feel it for a second or two. She grinned, ignoring Chad's trembling fingers and forcing herself to concentrate on pulling herself up. Speaking of turtles…
"Chad move it! Musashi!"
She recognized the voice above the din and this hand she grabbed, "Tell Karen to use the grenade!" She panted as Raph and Mikey pulled her up.
Chad turned, shouting over another burst from Karen's semi. "…Says grenade!"
"Not yet! Get clear!"
"I'm good, go!"
Chad the mad turtle needed no further incentive. He took off running as Karen continued to cover.
Musashi jammed her injured hand into her pack and pulled out her grenade—she'd already popped the pin when she saw that Karen had her grenade in hand.
No time to think. Musashi threw low, threw as hard as she could, her grenade disappearing into the rift as Karen's landed in front of the others just as they spread their wings—and they were diving and rolling, the blasts almost simultaneous, the sound of powdered rock raining down, an incredibly high-pitched squealing coming from somewhere.
"You got 'em! You got 'em!"
Chad was standing in the front of them, a look of unabashed glee and not a little awe on his narrow face.
They hadn't killed all of them. Two of the four still on the other side of the chasm were mostly intact, alive—but blind and broken, their legs splintered, black fluid obscuring whatever was left of their faces, as they squealed in fury, the sound like a guinea pig being stepped on. The other two were just bleeding, shattered bags, bones sticking up from the liquid piles like—like broken bones. From the manmade gorge there were more of the screaming squeals, and nothing leapt out to attack. For all intents and purposes, it was over.
Musashi crawled to her feet, studying the back of her hand. Contrary to how it felt, the skin hadn't melted off.
"You okay?" Raph asked.
Musashi shrugged, "I'll live."
She saw that Chad was still beaming at them, his body shaking with adrenaline aftermath; he seemed at a lost for words, and Musashi had a sudden clear memory of how she'd felt after her first battle, the first in which she'd acted bravely. How helplessly elated she'd been. How incredibly alive.
"Chad, you're a funny guy," Mikey said, clapping his hand on his shoulder and smiling. The electrician grinned uncertainly, and the five of them started for Two, leaving the furious squeals of the dying animals behind.
"Hey, Raph."
"Yeah?" He looked at her with worried eyes and walked closer to her as if he thought she was too injured to walk anymore.
She could have laughed, "I think that brings my count to eleven." She stuck out her tongue, "I'm two ahead of you."