Forced Detour…
Mr. Gibson pushed himself up from the floor slowly and carefully. The lipids on his cheeks deepened in color as his overworked heart strained against the unhealthy weight of his body. He took a moment to collect himself and sent his stubby arms rearward, dusted off his back as best he could while all others tried to contemplate some sort of strategy in their winded breathing. He met Justin's eyes. "We're fucked."
"What did you see?" Chris asked from behind the rising overweight administrator.
Justin doubled over and shook his head at the ground. "Too many of 'em. Too fucking many of 'em..." he trailed off.
"Well, did they see us?"
Catching his breath, Justin shot back with a venomous glare, "I don't think so!"
The LED glow off the walls bathed everyone's shoes in a red glow, faces only half visible despite everyone clearly exuding panic. Gibson took exactly one step to the side and braced his weight against a wall, his breath now fully regained. "Justin, how many of 'em you think?"
"I don't know. A lot, okay? The most I've seen yet."
"This was a bad idea. We should've have gone straight for weaponry before the Pelican. We were too eager. But that's okay. Everyone just be calm. We just need to take another look, Reid. Go on. I need to know exactly how many we're dealing with, once and for all."
Justin huffed once, though not out of frustration. He complied with Gibson's request and spun the rotary lock once more. As its resistance relented, he spun it more slowly to maintain the precautionary silence. Once the dog ears were free of the steel frame, he inched the door open very carefully, hoping beyond even his own cynicism that a rusty creaking wouldn't squander their stealth. A new light entered the corridor as he placed his head outside with hands still on the door, ready to slam it shut if need be.
He panned around with only his eyes.
Nothing had changed. About forty meters out, stacks of wire shelving laden with electro-mechanical diagnostic equipment and aircraft spares gave way to an open expanse of epoxy-resin maintenance flooring, mostly clean save for a blanket of dust that had accumulated in months' absence of general housekeeping. The carpet of parasites farther out kicked up rooster tails of the particulate a few inches into the air as they scurried about. They hadn't noticed the group of survivors yet, which would be considered amazing if Justin actually had time and courage to ponder it. Perhaps the bay was spacious enough and acoustics were accordingly dampened over that amount of distance, luck be had.
Ultimately, they weren't given away.
Inside the corridor, Chris squeezed his way past Gibson, who was still too shook up and exhausted to move much more than required to shift his burdensome weight.
Chris took two tentative steps to bring himself right behind Justin, eager to watch, yet mindful of his unique and precarious situation.
"Go ahead, boy." the Kaiser said from behind. "Go on, take a look around that corner."
"Don't do that." Justin warned.
But Chris' curiosity got the better of him, much as every time he was in such proximity to Sergei.
The boy crept closer to the junction, his curiosity on overdrive. He stood on his toes to see over Reid's broad shoulders and leaned one eye out into the open.
A sea of parasites crawled, meandering their way about. Chris was fixated, studying the writhing mass. A nauseating stench made his nostrils flare as he watched a few of the larger zombie creatures teeming with unchecked ferocity, roaming about the length of the bay. They moved with no real direction, to no end. It was as if lack of movement meant hibernation or death for the alien horde—either pacing or gyrating where they stood.
"It's like they move as one." Chris mumbled aloud. "Like they're always together somehow."
The Kaiser himself pushed Gibson aside and peered out into the open after witnessing Chris' frozen posture, hovering over the boy. He took in the sight for merely a second. "Animals, kid. All of 'em. They'll kill you and everyone you know. It's what they do." Sergei turned to face those still aft in the corridor. "And I think everyone has realized that, yes?"
"Yes, they're animals." Gibson sighed. "That's one thing we'll all agree on. And we're gonna put them all down like sick, fucking animals. So what's up, Justin?"
Justin put his focus back into the open. He had attained a rough estimate on how many hostiles occupied the bay: more than they could deal with whether by direct action or subversion. He took one long, slow look at the Pelican caught in the middle of it all. It was beautiful. Not just the hard, angular lines of its warship credo that he used to know; it held a beauty far beyond just its appearance…
It was salvation manifested. It was freedom.
"We can overcome this." Justin whispered. "The answer is...we're not fucked, Gibson."
"There's so many of them." Chris said.
"We've still got the stockyard. We can take these bastards. We just need a little more patience and we'll close out this fuckin' night right. Bullets do the job just fine, so we just need more guns and ammo. And the little ones seem to take others down with 'em when they're huddled in close."
"It is our only shot." Gibson said. "Better make out while it's still light outside or else we'll be waiting one more day, and between now and then..."
"Agreed." Justin swept his sights over the tide of aliens once more, his eye movements like that of a smothering blanket over a blazing inferno. "We're leaving. But we'll be back soon enough. We might even be airborne by sunset."
Before Justin could reach out to close the hatch, Chris placed a hand on Justin's forearm, clenching down on it quite firmly. Justin glanced over his shoulder at the boy and was about to utter something profane, but he could not make eye contact with him; he didn't acknowledge Justin's irritated gaze, just stared into the bay and slightly upwards, a certain look about him. Justin actually had to search Chris' eyes they were so fixed on this one point so far beyond. Realizing whatever the boy was looking at couldn't be good, Justin slowly followed Chris' line of sight until he saw it too. Undoubtedly, this was why Chris remained perfectly motionless.
Some new kind of enemy was anchored to one of the support trusses very high above the bay's dead center. A wonder how Justin missed it earlier, he studied the general outline of it as only an extreme vantage could permit. He wished he could get closer, even just a few more meters would do. But he quickly denied that impulse. Not only would that risk getting maimed or killed, but also risk their element of surprise for the future.
Justin remembered he still had binoculars in his coat. He suppressed his brief excitement as best he could while slowly retrieving them, not even permitting the rustling of clothing as he brought them to bear in front of his eyes. He peered into them slowly, adjusting the controls. The object was now right in his face, some sort of cocoon. A fleshy, tan-colored sack bristling with bright-gold spikes from the end that was hanging downward.
"What…the…hell?" Justin whispered.
"What is that?" Chris asked, terror in both his voice and in his grip—now latched to the door frame.
Justin glanced back, utter confusion in his eyes. "No idea."
"Maybe it's an egg-maker…or something."
"Picture needs sharpening." Justin mumbled.
Justin looked back into the bay and refocused the binoculars at that grotesque thing hanging high above. He configured max zoom and tried to study it. Just then, some fleshy aperture opened on it, exposing a pinkish-red pouch that seemed to pulsate rather organically. Justin squinted, wondering what this thing was all about and what purpose it served among the alien colony. He would find out in about two seconds.
Its whole, grotesque body shivered violently where it hung. A green column of pure, liquid disgust lanced straight towards the hatch with unbelievable velocity. Unbeknownst to Justin, the glob instantly morphed in mid-flight into an incredibly sharp javelin of pure Calcium. Justin tried to react, tried to get out of the way, but before he could close the hatch the shot grazed his shin bone and blood spurted all over the cold steel surroundings.
Justin's face swelled as he silently winced away the pain, gently closing the hatch despite a burning agony in his leg. Inside the corridor with the hatch now closed, he yelled, "Seal the God damned fucking door!"
Chris and Gibson rushed forth, rotating the lock while Justin rolled on the ground and screamed all manner of expletives into the sound-proof confines.
After the two ensured the corridor was sealed and after Justin had managed to put enough pressure on his wound, he stopped cursing. He pushed off the ground, bent over and kept his hands over his bloody skin. "Someone, give me something to cover this up!"
Ken instantly stripped his jacket and sweater, then his undershirt. "Here." he said, handing it over to Justin.
Justin snatched the improvised tourniquet and wrapped it over and under the sight of the wound, suppressing some of his blood flow to that area. "C'mon. Let's go topside. First, the med facility and then the stockyard."
"Make sure you get some antiseptic." Gibson added. "That thing could get infected."
"It just better not be poisonous." Justin stood up and gained his balanced on one leg, then gaited over to the hatch and placed a firm, bloodied hand on Chris' shoulder and pushed him further into the corridor. "Outta the way."
The Kaiser and Chris backpedaled as Justin doubled back toward them and the entrance after silently sealing the hatch by his own good measure, torqueing the seal with all his strength. He then reached into his coat and pulled out his empty shotgun, wedging the barrel in between two steel spokes of the locking wheel. He gave the lock a quarter-rotation the other way to check his work; the wooden butt stock gently clanged against the frame, locking the wheel in position.
"Nothing's getting through there, c'mon."
Justin marched with a slight limp back towards the maintenance bay, everyone else following.
After the short walk through the interconnecting corridor, the survivors regrouped in the maintenance bay, the familiar sight of the MAGLEV tram prevailing in the distance—still operational. Cars steadily came and went, halting briefly at one of the loading platforms before turning around 180 degrees for another loop. An endless cycle as the cars traversed antiquated passageways of the city.
Justin unraveled his bandage just a little to inspect how much damage his leg tissue had taken. Hendricksson bent down next to him. "I'm not a medical expert, but I'd say it's already clotting nicely."
"Yeah, Joe, I'm aware of that." Justin stood back up.
"Well, like Gibson said, just get some ointment and a new bandage and you'll be fine."
Justin paid no more attention to Hendricksson. "Gibson, what are we waiting around for? Let's get going."
"Sorry, Justin. I was just making sure that you were ready." Gibson gaited over towards a loading deck, ascended a ladder and approached another hatch three meters above the maintenance floor. "It's this way, everyone!" he said, his voice echoing in the ambience.
Everyone followed and once again met at the threshold to yet another hatch, the next corridor beckoning on the other side. Gibson and Justin once again had a go at the rotary lock, breaking the seal and opening the door. "It's clear." Gibson announced. "Let's go to the infirmary first for Justin."
Gibson entered, followed by Justin, then Joe Bill and Chris, Kaiser and his men holding the middle of the single-file formation. Ken and Layla were at the rear, who together re-sealed the hatch behind them.
Gibson waited for them. Once they were caught up, he resumed his step through the tight hallway. "Just another fifty meters, everyone. This maintenance tunnel leads to a telecomm room off one of the utility closets, which is in the corner of the factory you all work in. Used to work in."
"Oh my God!" Layla shouted.
"What?" Gibson asked.
"That smell. What the hell. You don't smell that?"
"I don't smell anything!" Gibson shouted back.
From the middle of the group, the Kaiser softly said, "Sorry."
"That is disgusting." Layla scolded. "Honestly, you couldn't have held that a little longer?
"I never hold back. If you hold farts back, they travel up the spine, to the brain, and that's where shitty ideas come from." he smiled.
"Not funny!" she retorted.
"Alright!" Justin shouted. "Enough of the joking around. We've got a mission to carry out. Our lives depend on it. Let's get going, and stay focused!"
Gibson turned around and kept going as Justin pushed him forward.
Another moment of walking and they were face to face with another hatch at the end to the tunnel. Justin and Gibson procedurally unlocked it, walking through and proceeding into a place a little more spacious. The putrid smell of Kaiser's gastric distention was gone and everyone could breathe a little easier. All around the walls were rack-mounted equipment chasses bolted to the concrete deck. LED status indicators blinked all around them as the equipment performed whatever functions they were designed for—undoubtedly to handle fiber optic communications tasks for the city's CCTV network. The survivor collective didn't stare too long at their surroundings and simply regarded the electronics once before they followed Gibson and Justin to the door on the far side of the room.
Gibson keyed a control on his datapad and a deadbolt inside the door retracting away from the door frame was audible an instant later. Gibson reached out, grabbed the door knob and pushed it open, a groaning noise resounding through the way beyond. What was next came as a surprise to everyone.
The groaning noise was simply a wooden pallet scraping against the floor as the door shoved it clear. Surrounding the view in front were shleves of ordinary cleaning supplies. Industrial-grade solvents and human sanitization products. There were mop buckets on wheels, brooms, dust pans, towels, floor wax and anything else a standard utility closet had.
"Hot damn." Justin said. "I used to go in here all the time whenever there was a spill on the floor. You were hiding the underworld right under our noses. Sneaky, clever bastard."
"The last place anyone would think to look if they were to try and find some dirt on me." Gibson sneered.
"I got low friends in high places."
"C'mon," Gibson egged, "let's not linger around. We've got to get you some medical care so we can get to the ammunition."
Gibson instantly broke out into a light jog, everyone behind somewhat amazed at how brisk a pace he could carry even after all the walking.
"Stop for a minute." Justin said emphatically, holding up a hand. He waited for Gibson to slow down and turn, which he did with an impatient frown. "We can't just barge in there. We know only vaguely that they're not in this sector, so let's go about this carefully...and slowly. And before we go again, you all need to prepare yourselves. Blood, bodies, the smell of death. This is what you may be walking in to. You need to control your normal reactions if you're weak in the stomach, okay?" Justin looked at every face. "Just know you might walk into it, accept it, deal with it appropriately. Don't fuck up my chances of survival or I'll kill you before they do. That goes for all of you. Now, go ahead."
Gibson nodded solemnly and slowly pivoted to the task.
Justin was right.
As entering the brightness of the factory floor always did, a familiarity gripped all those who spent much of their daily lives there. Working in the factory was a dull, dreary existence that people usually loathed but nevertheless got used to. It was unchanging, steady, predictable. Comforting, in a way.
Now, however, much of the very same walls that surrounded their routine activities were bathed in human gore. It wasn't an easy thing to traverse the main bay again. Littering the factory floor were toppled pieces of equipment and smears of blood from the earlier masacre, which all of them had witnessed first hand in one way or another. Chris quickened his pace so as to remain in the dead center of the pack, the notion of high-stepping through a Hellish minefield in his mind with all the recent horrors plastered to every surface around him.
Justin may've sensed what was going through some of their heads.
"Keep your eyes straight ahead and keep on the lookout for the aliens."
They all passed up the break rooms to their left, soon reaching the end of the factory floor where a corridor to the chow hall was.
They each rocketed down the corridor behind Gibson, the sanitization sinks off to either side marked with the occasional wash of blood. Justin could picture the workers running away from the carnage, being chased down by some unknown horde of monsters—a few of them getting lucky and pulverizing their hard-earned prey. Or maybe they were smart and let the little ones take them over to increase their numbers.
The chow hall loomed ahead, a gloomy ambience about it with no lights on—which were always on.
Toppled chairs and spilled food items and silverware were everywhere, giving indicating that a futile battle took place here. More like a last stand by the looks of it. There were no carcasses or entrails of the enemy lying about. Just bloody boot prints everywhere in chaotic arrangement.
Gibson automatically slowed down. "Everyone keep quiet." he whispered as everyone neared him.
The admin gaited slowly inward with the leather of two-toned loafers creaking under his weight. He saw a flickering light ahead through a set of double glass doors.
"The infirmary." Gibson again whispered. "Be ready to run the other way if I signal it."
They all advanced.
Gibson smartly pushed open one of the plexiplate doors, praying the hinges were in good upkeep. Even the slightest noise was unwanted. He held it open until Justin took its weight, passing it to the next survivor, and so on.
The last two in, Ken and Layla proceeded through the partition and let the door slowly close to its resting position.
"Justin," Gibson whispered, "me and you. Let's go check it out."
Justin nodded and they disappeared from the group just around the first corner.
At the rear of their formation, Ken took the opportunity to check their six. Slowly, he turned around and peered through the plexi-plate doors: all clear. Nothing but the smell of death and the predominant color of red spread out over the rows of tables and toppled chairs.
Ken trained his eyes that way, glued them in that direction as he flipped long locks of blonde hair from his face. He could do nothing but wait. There were no sounds, the air deathly still in the infirmary lobby, so it was of some reassurance that Justin and Gibson were doing the right thing…so far.
A moment later and only Justin's visage appeared around the corner. He waved. All clear.
Everyone proceeded further inward, Ken still intent on keeping a vigil behind.
"How's that? That better?" Joe asked.
"I was fine before, Joe." Justin said. "It just stings a little less now."
"You're welcome." Joe replied, leaving the E-R.
Justin scooted himself off the operating table and planted his feet back on the ground, bending over to roll his pant leg back over his bandaged shin. "Thanks." Justin shouted.
There was no reply.
Chris once again ventured by himself. He made it to the lobby where Ken maintained his guard. Chris checked the reception area for anything of use—supplies or information. There were logs and journal entries on various flat-panel displays and datapads strewn about the desktops, but blood smeared them all as well as the chairs. Chris didn't bother to investigate any further.
Sergei's voice startled him. "Just wanna say I think you're doing a good job at keeping our plan intact. Good job on keeping up the pretense that I'm still an evil bastard and so forth."
"Not hard for me."
Sergei gave Chris an wary glance for an instant, then briefly eyed the doors in the same manner, now whispering, "Let's just hope the bastard, Ken, doesn't go exposing us to Justin. Now, Bill, I'm pretty sure he won't speak a word—"
"—Ken's not a bastard, he's a good guy."
"But he won't be such a good guy to any of us if he squanders our only hope outta here, eh? If Justin gets word about the true origins of this plan, whether from Ken or Bill or anyone else, you can call it quits at that point. Trust me."
"I won't let that happen. Even if it does, surely Justin has thought about it so far. He's realized that it's our ticket outta here."
"You've got blind optimism. Trust me, it goes well at first but then something ruins it all. No good deed goes unpunished, Chris, and you'll learn that as you age. I told you, if they see I've had any part in it they will discredit it immediately. They'll just think I'm scheming again."
"Well, are you?"
"I thought we saw each other eye to eye, Chris. Are you doubting this?"
"I'm with you so far, but they're my friends too, so don't expect me to just hang on your coat tails everywhere you go. And let's face it, Sergei, the odds are stacked against you."
"How so? You know the details of the plan and we can see them all done as long as we're working together."
"Not just all that. The people you're asking me to convince think you're just as much an enemy as those spider bastards out there. They're only keeping you around because you're another set of eyes and trigger fingers. You can't count on them."
"Exactly! Which is why you need to keep playing the middle man."
"But there's so much more. Look at what I'll be asking of them. Loss of mobility, confined in a city that's already been taken, waiting on parts, installing one of the most complex devices I've ever heard about into a flying tin can...It's so much."
Has anyone else been speaking with you lately? Earlier you were all in, now you're thinking about running for the hills?"
No, I want to get outta here, but I'm not so sure you'll still be on my side when we are finally outta here."
"Now what good would it do me to double-cross you?"
"That's how these things work with people like you, right? There's no more need for me when we're up in the air, and then I'm gone."
Kaiser Sergei bent down and looked Chris square in the eye, a subtle fire in his eyes as he spoke.
"I give you my word, and I don't just give out my word on a whim, that I will not leave you behind."
"I think I believe you, and I want to believe you, but what about my friends? Will you promise to let them live as well?"
"That choice is entirely up to them. Live and let live is how I see this now that I've given you my vow. So maybe you can do some more convincing when the time comes."
"I will honor it, Sergei. The world needs a change. We need a change I know you know that. We can start now, with you and me."
The Kaiser stood up to full height. "That's what I've believed this whole time."
Justin made to leave for the door, but strangely he stopped just short of it as he caught a glimpse of his own face in the mirror right above the sink. He remained there. For the first time in many years, he liked what he saw. There was no shame in his eyes. And they were radiant. It didn't make any sense.
Right before Justin could ponder why, Ken showed up at the door. The look in the ex-aviator's eyes was anything but cheerful. "What's the news?" Justin asked.
Ken stepped in and gently closed the door, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. He then took long and slow strides over to the chair.
"Gibson told me about your plan to get rid of the Kaiser. Told me you'd need me for it."
"So what's your verdict?"
"Well, it's gonna be awfully hard to do that if they're packing as much heat as us."
"It's a risk we'll be forced to take. Once we have a Pelican in our possession, we're not gonna need him anymore…and he knows that. And then there's the flipside: he won't need us either. Hijacking that bird is on his mind, I just know it. We're left with no choice, Ken."
Ken sighed. "I guess I kinda figured that all along too."
"Is that all then?"
"No. When we do it, we have to do it right. Chris and Layla shouldn't see it happen. Bill too, if we can."
"Salvaging luxury now, are we? We're gonna do this however we do it, that's that. We can't cater to their virgin eyes; the Kaiser is thinking the same thing we are; he's gonna pull it before we do if he gets the opportunity. We just have to strike first. Strike first, strike fast, strike hard. I need you with me."
Ken clenched his jaw, his anxiety in the matter now palpable. "Okay. Fuck it. If we have to do it then we do it. Just let me know when."
"Another thing."
"What?"
"We need Joe too. You and Bill have been talking to him. You've built up a friendship. Talk to him some more."
"Okay."
Ken stood up, strode to the door and walked out with not even the slightest hint of hesitation in his step. As if on cue, Chris showed up. He rapped a knuckle on the door frame out in the hall.
"What's up, kid?"
"Not much. Ken says it's safe out there, so I just wanted to see how your cut is. Is the pain gone?"
"Yeah, Hendricksson took care of me. Gave me some cortisone and some micro-morphs. Not exactly one-hundred and ten percent, but I'm ship-shape."
"Bet you wish you had some of that standard issue biofoam, eh?"
"Fuck yes I do. Biofoam is the best thing since Alt Burgundy. Got a snake bite? Flush it out with some biofoam. Fall off a five-story building and your rib cage is split open? Throw some biofoam in there. Wife left you and you ran outta Jim Beam? Pour two fingers of biofoam in a shot glass and—"
"—I get the point, Justin."
"Right."
"So you're okay then?"
"Like I said…ship-shape."
"Cool. Good." Chris glanced down each length of the hallway. "I'm gonna go find some soda or something. You want some?"
"Nah, but wait. Come in and sit down for a minute. Now that we've got some chill time, let me apologize for some things."
"Apologize for what things?"
"Taking your idea for granted. Not giving you the respect you deserve."
"What are you doing this for now?"
"I've been putting things into perspective lately. Looking back, it just feels like the right thing to do."
"Should I be scared? Is this what Bill would call Last Rights, or something like that?"
Justin chuckled and beamed at Chris. "Nah, kid. Nothing bad is going to happen. In fact, it's quite the opposite. See…every once in a while, something good comes along and helps you see things clearer. Here, take a smoke."
"No thanks, it makes my throat burn."
"You've smoked up with me before. You decide to quit early or something?"
"I just smoked up with you guys to break the ice. I never really liked it."
"Suit yourself."
Just lit up.
"So what's the rare occasion, Justin?"
The ex-Marine took a savory pull on the filter, deep and slow. "Remember that day I told you surviving is as good as it gets?"
"That was my first day here and I'll never forget that."
"Well, I was wrong about that."
"I know that look. You're talking about Layla."
Justin grinned.
Chris took a seat on a doctor's stool near the sink and smirked. "I don't think I've ever seen you smile like that, Justin. Are you in danger of developing humanity again?"
"Funny, isn't it? How a woman can change you in an instant?"
"They do that. Every now and again, it's a good thing."
"And I realize I haven't treated you well lately."
"Lately?"
"Okay, I know I've never been terribly kind to you. You'll get no more apologies from me—"
"—Apology accepted!" Chris laughed.
"Okay then. Hatchet buried?"
"Six feet deep."
"Alright, let's get outta here and take care of business."
"On your lead, Justin."
Together, smiling, Chris and Justin rounded up the other survivors so that they could head to the stockyard.
There was no access to the exterior from where the infirmary was, and thus they couldn't get to the stockyard just yet. They were at a dead end with no choice but to double back. Only once they were far enough as the transition between the chow hall and the factory could they begin to think about exiting the Northeastern complex. This meant laboring through the sickening blood-mural confines.
The walk was nauseating. One step out the infirmary and the smell of stale, dried up blood and bile woke up everyone's nostrils. The floor had patches of it everywhere, the toppled chairs were coated in it, and the tables were smeared with all variety of human gore. Food and drink were splattered about in kind. Hard-earned meals cut short like their lives. Not one alien casualty had been inflicted. It was by no means a fair fight. It was a massacre, city-wide.
But at least for once it wasn't resultant of fratricide, a trend that had become all too common among denizens living on Traxus IX.
Justin halted briefly and stood in thought.
"Chris, Ken, and Gibson: grab all the food and drink you can carry off that conveyor line. We're gonna need it."
Justin took a few steps just a little further to where the chow hall met the long corridor full of wash stations. He peered off into the distance where the threshold to the factory floor beckoned. There was nothing in sight.
Justin looked back on the group.
"Gibson, I said grab all the food you can."
"I'm not eating those peasant scraps."
"It's not just for you, asshole. Everyone's gonna need it."
"I'm carrying my own snacks in my pockets. Don't ask me to fetch food for others. I'll wait until I can get at real food again. Shouldn't be much longer anyway."
With that, the admin reached deep into his trousers, retrieving a creme-filled pastry. He clawed fervently at the wrapper after taking stock of his surroundings in this brief pause, and wolfed the whole treat down in a single gulp.
"Fuck, do you even chew?" Justin took stock of the area as well. "Alright, everyone, take what you can and eat on the go. But keep your eyes open."
Justin waited there while the others finished packing their provisions. Another moment and he led them on the move again, treading lightly through the sanitization corridor.
All that was visible were bright splotches of red across sinks. It was all a distraction; the only sight to be concerned with was dead ahead: the door to the factory. Justin slowly shoved it open and scanned the bay. Nothing had changed since their visit. It was devoid of people or aliens. It was still bright as ever and the conveyors still moved with a soft whirring sound, churning up fresh workloads of scrap and minerals—waiting to be properly sorted so that by the time the materials ran the length of the bay and proceeded back underground again, the foundry workers below could smelt them down and pour them into ingots, assemble them into something that could yield profits for THI. It was as if someone should be manning the line right now.
The sight was disheartening.
"C'mon," Justin softly ordered, "no stopping."
A small personnel door lied only a few meters away. Justin bee-lined straight towards it, the other survivors in close pursuit. He pulled it open and a cold, choppy air whisked inward along with muted sun. Justin looked around: surprisingly, it was barren just like the factory. No people or aliens, either dead or living. No bodies.
Just more smears of blood, spent brass casings and a few toppled and charred vehicle frames.
"The aftermath of your handy work." Justin said to Layla.
"Hell's half mile." Joe added.
"There's still one vehicle out there." Ken said. "It looks like it's still good."
"One vehicle is no good to us." Justin said. "Can't fit everyone and it would make too much noise anyway. C'mon, let's keep moving. Daylight won't last much longer."
With that, everyone brought in closer to Justin as he pressed towards the tunnel burrowing under the towering spire. The dusty winds swirled around its girth and carried on over the courtyard. Justin looked all around them as he tracked a trough of dust moving overhead. The courtyard was totally devoid of life or death. "Keep your eyes and your ears open." he said as they entered the mouth of the tunnel.
The darkness swallowed them.
Each of the survivors had silently thanked whatever they believed in that they made it through the tunnel alive and in one peace as they neared the stockyard. A subtle, pale-yellow glow emanated from that direction, the light of day transitioning them onward again. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust. Chain link fencing was now visible on either side, rows and rows of padlocked partitions. But the group of survivors was not alone. A faint rustling of chain link was overtly audible as they progressed deeper in.
Justin once again reached into his coat for his shotgun, then cursed himself an instant later for realizing he used it as an improvised lock at the corridor to the Pelican. But, no, that was an utter necessity. "Who's got a shotgun?"
Ken stepped forth and handed one to Justin, who immediately advanced deeper inward, hoping that there mere sight of it would be deterrent enough. Hopefully, the zombies and parasites learned from their comrades' encounters with human weaponry. But soon enough, Justin would find no need for it.
A few more steps accomplished and everyone could make out exactly what was causing the ruckus.
The Kaiser and his men broke position and sped to the location of the disturbance. By the time Justin and everyone else caught up with them, all was clear now.
The two thugs that Justin had locked up earlier were still in the same place and very much angry. Tired, hungry and weak, no doubt. Probably very uncomfortable and cold.
"It would've been more humane just to kill them." Sergei barked.
"I thought they would've had the sense to find a way out." Justin fired back. "Guess you don't employ quality help these days."
"Get them out."
"Right. I free them, and then there's two more scumbags with grudges against Justin Reid. No thanks."
"Justin." Bill said, approaching his side. "It's not right to just leave them here. They'll freeze to death like this. I don't even know how they made it this far."
"I agree." Chris added. "It's not right. They're extra guns if we let them join us, eh? And everyone knows we need that. I think you should free them, it'd be a sign of good faith. What if you were in their shoes?"
Justin looked among the group. As he passed his sights upon Joe, Ken and Layla, each of them nodded in accordance with Bill and Chris' plea. For the first time, Justin was on the wrong side of reason. The entire group was against him on this, and there was no choice but to conform. For if he didn't, it would mean loss of faith in the leader. Not total, but just enough. That's all it would take for his thread of control to slowly unravel. It wouldn't be the end but it would plant a seed in everyone's mind that he was unfit to lead. He had to appease the masses, at least temporarily. "I wouldn't be in their shoes because I'm not a piece of shit like them." Justin responded. "I hope you all know what you're doing." He pointed squarely at the Kaiser. "Because once we kill all the aliens, he becomes the enemy. More of him is gonna make our situation more difficult."
"No one asked you, working man." the Kaiser shot back.
"Oh c'mon, Kaiser!" Chris shouted unexpectedly, stepping in close. "To think that you're some kind of fucking leader? You ain't."
And Sergei responded, "The majority of this group says to open the damned door, so let's just do that and be done with it!"
Justin retrieved the key from deep within his coat, almost forgetting it was still there. He merely inserted the key into the padlock and walked away.
The Kaiser diligently stepping forth to finish the job. "And you thought I was an animal." he said, sliding the door open. "It's you we should all be worried about."
Sergei shook the hands of both his men and patted them on the back as the rest of his cohorts were reunited.
Justin shook his head. "This is all very touching, but we need to search for ammo. Everyone take a row. And take whatever you think will be necessary to live on for at least five days. And don't forget smokes and alcohol."
Everyone had finished packing their own private arsenal as well as their own private stock of luxuries.
Justin sealed and pocketed a flask of malt liquor just after taking a satisfying gulp of it. He looked around as the liquid warmed his insides: already, all eyes were on him. A silent query for his next move.
"To the hangar." Justin said flatly.
With spirits raised, everyone followed Justin out of the stockyard.
It was a cold walk out of the Eastern tunnel. The fact that much of the journey was through pitch-black darkness didn't seem to faze any of them. They were armed to the teeth and laden with substances to calm their nerves and bolster their confidence—as if the amount of firepower alone couldn't have done that. Once in the full light of the courtyard, a cloud of dust sailed on the open winds, enveloping them all in a suffocating barrage of fine debris. The gusts suddenly changed direction and the dust cloud lost cohesion and dissipated. Justin looked around once again: no change at all to the scene. "Gibson, you're back in the lead again."
"Right." Gibson responded. "Same place we came through." he announced.
With that, the small group diverted straight towards the factory bay doors. Gibson wasted no time and hurried through. Everyone smartly followed. As if on autopilot, Gibson paced to the corner of the factory floor, not too far from where they all entered. He opened the storage closet and waited there for merely a few seconds. Everyone was in. He closed the door behind them just to be safe. He then unlocked the door partially hidden behind the wooden pallets and opened it. "Let's not waste any time."
The group had once again convened inside the underground loading bay after an arduous journey through the narrow corridor. Unlike last time, however, none of them sat around or conversed with idle chit-chat. Each person immediately prepared themselves. Not a single word was uttered as everyone checked their weapons, fed ammunition into clips, holstered a sidearm or two, anchored Moltov Cocktails to their torsos and chambered rounds into their primary weapons. The bay was just one echo after another, metallic clicks and snaps as everyone readied their weaponry.
"Aim center mass." Justin said. "Zombies die first, then parasites unless your situation dictates otherwise. We'll pick as many off from the hatchway as we can. If we go out into the open, we cover by twos. Does anyone here not know what that means?"
Chris raised his hand.
"It means two people will advance, fire everything they got, then fall back behind the rest of the formation. As that happens, two more will fill their place. That means fresh trigger fingers and fresh ammo. We can't afford to let these bastards catch us off guard." Justin now addressed everyone. "We've scavenged all the stockyard's weapons and ammo for this little stunt. There's no going back. This is it."
Chris took a deep breath.
"You good?" Justin's brow raised.
"I'm good."
"I take it that everyone else is good too." Justin stated. He turned towards the last corridor. "Follow me."
Justin walked briskly towards the hatch. He didn't hesitate one microsecond, eager to get it over with: he snapped the seal loose and flowed right into free-wheeling the lock. The dog ears inched away from the frame as he sped the dial counterclockwise. An instant later he kicked in the door with a swift boot and strode inward, heavily intented and no longer favoring his wounded leg.
The red lights cast a soft, warming glow on the surfaces of their hoisted weapons as they all swept through the corridor. The group tried to stay in step with Justin as he broke out into a fast walk. He arrived at the other end in merely a few seconds.
"Maybe we should slow down." Ken suggested as they all halted at the final hatch.
"I'm trying to get you motivated. We're about to enter the toughest battle of our lives. If we don't get this right, we are screwed." Justin snatched his old shotgun out of the door's locking wheel and started feeding shells into the receiver. He pumped it once, racking a round into the chamber, then fed another round into the receiver, mindful to leave the safety on until he needed to fire. He slid the shotgun into his coat, then instantly started free-wheeling the lock. "We have to hit them fast and hard. Now!"
Justin kicked open the door and was met with the sight of parasites crawling over the bay floor about fifty meters out, past all the shelves and work benches. He took sight with a pistol and began firing immediately. Just as quickly as he fired off the first shot, Ken pulled up beside him and dug in too. The entire alien horde was now alerted and began scurrying towards them, small plumes of dust in their skittering wake.
Justin fired off two rounds into the closest alien, not taking any chances, racking and stacking his targets in order of proximity. Immediately, two of the crawling variety exploded into fleshy ribbons of moist disgust while two or three beside them burst as well. With the closest line of parasites destroyed, he raised his sight a little higher and unloaded the rest of the clip into a humanoid lurking farther out. He scored hits in a closely-grouped area right around the sternum, saving two bullets for head shots right as it toppled to the ground. "Reloading!" Justin shouted.
He fell back into the corridor. Ken's firearm produced a tell-tale click alongside him. "Reloading!"
Chris and Joe ran up to replace them. The firing resumed, concussive waves almost deafening everyone inside the corridor as the shots were placed not too far outside. The hordes of creatures kept advancing, a surprise that none of the larger variety had reared their way yet. Justin peered beyond the strobing silhouettes of Chris and Joe as they fired and noted that the zombies were somehow kept at bay—beyond the mass of critters before their feet.
Justin turned around to face everyone still inside, swapping out clips as he spoke. "The larger zombies aren't coming yet because they'd trample the smaller ones…so save a good deal of buckshot for them!"
The firing subsided. "Out!" Chris shouted.
"Out!" Joe echoed.
The two fell back, and Kaiser and Jaggo stepped forth into the bay.
By now, there was a steadily-increasing puddle of yellow puss and bony tentacle soaking into the floor outside the hatch, but the parasite mass continued to execute tiered advances despite the overwhelming amount of staggered firepower. Justin wisely and dutifully kept the surprise element and it played perfectly into this gunfight. There wasn't a conceiveable way the aliens could overcome the survivors at this rate. The waves of enemies couldn't gain enough ground to come within striking distance thus far into the battle as scores were destroyed in seconds from semi-automatic gunfire. As if to accentuate that fact, the Kaiser unlimbered an MA5 series assault rifle from his coat, switching the safety off with a wide smile. He swept the fully automatic weapon low and from side to side like an all-pervading fire extinguisher, the muzzle spitting out partially-arrested flame and a hail of steel-jacketed bullets. Halfway through the clip, he yelled savagely like an alpha male warding off territorial contestants while his subordinate inflicted what damage he could with a pistol. Realizing that having one working eye wouldn't allow for decent awareness, Jaggo holstered it and began firing an assault rifle just like his leader—in low and wide arcs, hoping his meager efforts paid off. Regardless of how combat-ineffective he was, he and Sergei made quite the fireteam: most enemiy casualties would be created by them.
But as the smaller creatures diminished, the larger zombies so too advanced with the dwindling surprise and gap of safety. They immediately took advantage of the extra maneuvering space and their heightened resistance to damage.
Justin took notice, stepped over the partition and joined the two in the fight.
"I'm out!" cried Jaggo.
"Same here." Sergei said.
Layla and Ken stepped forth alongside Justin now, all of them realizing the shift in battle taking palce. Layla saw the new waves of aliens advancing faster as the collective thinned from so much devastation, more and more of the faster and tougher creatures blitzing their line. She rightly switched her grip from pistol to shotgun, flicking the safety tab to show a forewarning red dot. Once such monstrosity ran for her with unbelievable speed. A wonder to even herself, she maintained her composure and waited for the alien to come within point-blank range where her present weapon truly performed. Her team stood with her and she would not falter. It was right upon her when she squeezed the trigger.
She staggered back a meter from its recoil, the large weapon almost falling from her grasp. Her carpels tingled with pain but she held on and picked her head up to see what lied before her: the zombie's figure totally pulverized and motionless on the puss-soaked floor. She smiled, instantly searching for more targets. There were plenty to choose from.
Ten more zombies lurking in the far shadows just replaced the one she dispatched, the remaining horde now free to traverse the space between them and the Pelican. But the survivors could never have predicted what was now developing: they watched in an adversarial sort of admiration—a battle-induced respect—as a few zombies lost their hosts' footing over the gore-slickened floor, recovering balance and cautiously slipping into retreat. The smaller variety had already attained great distance from the humans, calculating their odds at survival against such teamwork.
"Smart little buggers." the Kaiser said as he slapped a new magazine into the rifle's receiver.
At this point, all the survivors had attained an unexpected air of courage and had amassed into the open beyond the threshold, which suddenly grew quiet as each human reloaded for the next wave. A momentary standoff occurred between the two sides as Justin and those with him were fully ready for the next move—whoever should make it. Everyone was locked and loaded with absolutely no shortage of ammunition in sight. No one had even used an improvised incendiary device yet. And the alien horde must've realized the turning of the tide. They had their backs to the other wall—clear on the other side of the bay—practically donating the Pelican to them.
With a triumphant smile, Justin took his time reloading, sporadically glancing up at the aliens in the far distance. He took a deep breath after racking a shotgun round. His gaze hardened in determination as he slowly advanced.
Everyone followed. The last march.
About mid ways into the bay, Justin froze.
"Oh shit."
"What?" Ken asked, glancing sidelong at him.
Justin's jaw slackened as he gazed up. "It's gone."
"What is? Oh shit, the thing!"
"Fuck! I forgot all about it!" Justin glanced his aim in random directions, looking for the prime target—nowhere to be found but undoubtedly stalking them this very instant. He hollered at the top of his lungs, "Everyone, run to the Pelican, now!"
They lowered their aim and pumped their legs in vain, and before anyone could build up enough speed...there it was.
The unseen alien dropped to the floor right in front of them, no longer the fleshy cocoon it was prior.
Presently, it took the form of a giant arachnid, so unlike the rest of the smaller parasites further away. This one was bigger, much bigger, as big as a human. It was darker and slimier than the others and its symmetry was both disgusting and menacing, the anterior extremities jointed in such a way that they dove forward. No doubt, it was powerful despite its malformed limbs. It slowly rose to its walking height after its plummet from the ceiling, seemingly unperturbed by the thirty-meter fall. It slowly observed them for a moment through compound eyes, Justin slowly backpedaling along with the rest of the group.
Faster than a human could detect, it lashed forward. Rather than going for Justin—who was arguably the closest—it instead struck at one of the Kaiser's men. A vicious swipe from one of its beefy legs put him down for good, a fatal gash in his chest that tore right through clothing and skin and muscle. The man could do nothing but bleed out.
As the monster briefly dashed backwards in mock retreat, picking another target, Justin opened fire with a shotgun. And everyone else copied. The bay became one, thunderous echo from so many rounds going off at once. It seemed as though they were wearing it down quickly, cutting through its tough, slimy hide. It was withering into where it stood, growing smaller by the second.
It pulsated violently. Common logic would've suggested it was done for, but new organs and tissue sprouted outwards from its insides. Justin ceased firing in awe. The bay got quiet as everyone mirrored his move.
The creature morphed, instantly doubling in size, then redoubled, its many legs pulling inward on itself and sprouting out new limbs seconds later. It grew distinct sections of what could pass for a humanoid body. Abdomen, torso, head, legs, arms. Almost like the zombies lingering in the background themselves. The dark skin of the arachnid-like being just a few seconds ago now tinged an off-white, slimier than ever and swelling with striated muscle. When it was done transforming into this new being, it stood taller than any of them. A large, gaping mouth towered over them and seemed to suck in their collective gaze. It instantly moved upon the survivors.
"Head shots!" Justin shouted.
The crowd broke out again with a full onslaught of buckshot as they backpedaled and lost ground. None of the rounds seemed to faze it at first. But even if they did, it didn't matter; the gargantuan zombie lumbering down on them placed one of its huge forelimbs over its grotesque face, shileding it completely. It didn't even stagger back from the multitude of blows on the body either. Luckily it was a slow mover, but everyone assumed it could not withstand such firepower and began to stand firm. They underestimated this new enemy.
Figuring it could not withstand a point-blank shot, one of the Kaiser's men was swept off his feet by an elongated limb of the hulking zombie. Not even taking its gaze off the rest of the crowd, the limb then crashed down upon his torso with a wet crack!
He was gone.
In rage, another one of the Kaiser's men stepped forth and grabbed a hold of a Moltov Cocktail, lit it up, but before he could hurl it at the enemy's feet, another elongated limb slashed at his waist. A section of his stomach opened up a second later, blood, bile and what was presumably the man's spleen leaking onto the epoxy-resin floor. The flaming bottle was next to land and cracked open, engulfing the mortally-wounded criminal-soldier in flame.
"Keep your distance!" Justin ordered.
"What's the point of using shotguns?" Joe shouted back.
"Then use something else!"
Much of the group took Justin's advice. The remaining three of the Kaiser's men switched to their assault rifles, two of them now flanking the beast, vying for the revenge of their fallen brethren.
With humans on three sides of it, the monster was unsure where to strike as a hail of bullets impacted its tough skin from many angles. But its surface just seemed to absorb each round, no bodily fluids leaking outward. With a speed thought incapable from such a large body, all humans witnessed the zombie throw down one of its large limbs intended for one of the Kaiser's men. It cracked the ground right next to one of them. He barely dodged that blow; it would've flattened his body from head to toe like a pancake.
As the zombie focused elsewhere, the man on the other side took the opportunity and performed an amazingly brave and foolish thing: running up and jumping on its hunched back, digging in finger nails and climbing up the slickened spine. No one fired a shot. The tactic appeared feasible. But then one of the combat limbs instantly bent inward and pulled the man off its back with ease. Instead of destroying the man's body, it flung him clear across the bay. The impact on the far wall didn't kill him, but the host of zombies lingering there did.
Foolish enough to watch his friend's demise, the other thug also got his own. Captivated on the way the zombies killed in the distance, the larger one right in front of him dashed forth and clipped his head clean off with a devastating blow from its larger limb. No one, not even Justin could stand to watch the fountain of gore that erupted upwards from the headless man.
That left four dead in only two minutes.
At the end of their awe and courage, the group once again fired all they had while conceding the turf they'd wrested. The hulking beast advanced as fast as its large body could support it. Not one round of conventional weaponry would pierce its thick shell.
"Fall back!" Justin cried. "Fall back!"
Everyone blind fired as they backpedaled with all the speed they could muster. Thankfully for them, the being's current form was too large to sustain a sprint. It was a wonder it could even stand with such a high mass-to-height ratio.
Justin was the last in and expended all the rounds in his clip before sealing the door with pure haste. Loud wailing from the insuperable beast gradually gave way to steady droning that reverberated through the steel walls. And the smell of heavy cordite wafted through the corridor, adding to the miasma inside.
"Well, Gibson, we are now officially fucked."
After a few, agonizing minutes of listening through the hatch, everyone surmised the large zombie was staying put. Even if it possessed the strength to buckle the hatch, surely the dimensions of the corridor made it impossible for the superzombie to pass through.
Gibson craned his neck high out of his jacket and wiped salty beads of sweat from his brow. "I have a plan." he announced.
Justin slumped to the ground right near the hatch. "Does it involve a nuclear weapon?"
"If we used a nuke, the Pelican would be done for."
"Oh, really?"
"Get serious, Justin!"
"I am fucking serious!"
"Everyone relax!" Chris shouted. "We're still alive! Let's start thinking of what we can do to keep it that way!"
Silence followed.
"Where'd you grow such strong leadership qualities?" The Kaiser asked.
"Look," Gibson said with calm, "I know of a secret weapons cache. I believe it contains the kind of firepower we need for this type of situation."
"What firepower?" Justin demanded.
"I'm talking rockets and chain guns, military hardware, the kind you can't buy at a DRMO sale."
"Fine, let's get to it." Justin instantly rose from his seat and took a stiff swig from his flask, a few drops dribbling down his stubble-covered chin and cascading to the deck. "When we get outside, everyone give me a rough count of how much ammo you have left. We'll set up a formation on the way to this stash of weapons. And Ken stays in the middle of that formation."
"You seem to be so intent on keeping him safe," the Kaiser said, "why do you keep saying that? What makes him more special than me?"
"Because Ken's the only one that knows how to fly."
"I see."
The group went back the way they came.
They all stopped at the MAGLEV rail.
"Me and Layla first." Justin said. "I don't care who goes next, just try not to kill each other."
Chris' mouth dropped. Nice choice of words, Justin.
The next car came within the loading platform and Justin and Layla boarded. Within seconds, the car was out of sight.
As Ken and everyone else gazed into the tunnel for the next car, the Kaiser bent down to Chris and whispered, "It's a good thing Justin told me about Ken, you know. I might've had to silence him…if you know what I mean."
Chris glared upwards.
"Relax, I'm just kidding." the Kaiser smiled. "How could I kill the only one capable of flying our Pelican? Sometimes you have to make fun of your own plight. Otherwise, you'll just go crazy like Justin."
"Whatever."
The next car approached. Gibson and Ken boarded, the group dwindling in size.
The lights of the tunnel that the levitated car sped through whisked by the clear and bulbuous canopy, white streaks Doppler shifting closer, and then away. Caught in the middle of the light storm was Layla's beautiful face. Her gaze was pointed somehwere off to the side, fixed and perhaps not really looking at anything. The look in her eyes was easy to read: a mixture of fear and determination, wholly beautiful in that volatile state. Justin couldn't help himself from doing anything in this brief reprieve but simply staring into her eyes. A moment passed and Layla realized she'd been watched this whole time in the car.
"Are you okay?" he asked her. "You didn't get hurt back there, did you?"
"A little too late to ask that now, isn't it?"
Justin was never adept at reading other people very well. He'd lost touch with people in general when things in the galaxy took a turn for the worse. Duties such as winning battles and keeping Marines alive were chief among his concerns. But when the next chapter of his life began at Traxus IX, he'd given up on people entirely. Each was a potential betrayal in the making, a risky investment. He'd put all faith in himself and the small band of servicemen still in his dwindling sphere. But in that moment in the car with Layla, he could sense her anger. The way her eyes bored into his own spoke volumes of her current opinion of him.
"I know. I'm sorry. If there wasn't so much shit going on, I'd only have you to think of. Sergei is driving me up the wall."
Layla bolted from her seat and across the interior of the car towards Justin. Before he even knew why, her lips were pressed against his.
He sank deeper into the seat as her weight pressed down on him, her knees now on the bench seat, straddled around his waist.
She broke contact, breathed deep and stared into his eyes. "I know you have a lot to deal with."
Justin had no response.
Her sweat glands were active. The smell of her skin was seeping through her pores. The sweet, primitive scent drove him into a frenzy as he caressed her back. He longed for another kiss as the car slowed for their dismount.
Justin and Layla waited, occasionally glancing at one another. Then it was them, Gibson and Ken. Soon after, it was the four of them and Chris and Bill. Next up was Kaiser and Jaggo. Finally, Joe arrived.
"Let's move." Justin ordered.
He re-traced their steps through the corridor, the loud whir of old machinery once again filling their ears shortly before they emerged into the main tunnel. All was clear. "There better be some good weapons in this stash of yours, Gibson."
Justin wasted no time. He broke out into a light jog through the pitch-black, a muted light gradually seeping in from daylight ahead.
In roughly ten minutes, they emerged into the admin district, Gibson wholly out of breath. Justin looked back and scowled, though he kept his insults to himself. He rightly slowed a little so the admin could catch up, the man wheezing as his lungs cavitated, face red.
Justin stopped and waited for him to catch up. He waited yet another minute to allow him to get his breath again.
"You never told us where all these weapons are." He watched Gibson double over at the waist, a look of nausea in the admin's face. "Take your time and puke if you need to; I'm pretty sure every alien in existence is back in that bay." Justin scanned the admin district, satisfied with his last statement. "So where are we going?"
"It's in the mines." Gibson coughed. "That way." he pointed.
His outstretched finger was leveled dead ahead at the mine entrance where Hendricksson's ship had crashed, the bleach-white hull still resting there.
"Are you serious?" Justin asked.
"Dead serious."
"Fine, so be it. Let's go."
Justin walked rather than run for there was no way the admin could keep up a run. Since they were walking, Justin took the idle time to light a cigarette. He savored the flavor as he paced through the cold and brisk wind, the light of day soon set to fade maybe three hours from now. He didn't even bother to check his wristwatch because he knew: even if things went smoothly from here on out—getting the weaponry they required and hoofing it back to the bay—it would be dark before they could make it to the main tunnel. This meant they would have to stop somewhere for the night, ideally the admin building. It was a nuisance; Justin wanted nothing more than to get this over with and get airborne, make the jump to a better life. He still wasn't sure exactly when he should break the news to everyone that the Pelican was already capable of being their ticket off of Traxus IX. That was a mission for another day.
Ahead, the mouth of the cave beckoned.
Justin reached the cave entrance, all the other survivors gradually approaching.
Justin had been at this cave entrance twice before. Each time, his life had changed.
First, it was his chance encounter with what Solomon had referred to as Yellow Trumpet flower. When Justin and the others consumed it, all their lives had taken a back seat in a wild ride. Justin recalled each time the strange and horrid voice entered his conscious thereafter. Whoever, or whatever the voice belonged to, surely it was resultant of the potent flower; the onset of a homicidal voice hadn't been known to him until then.
But the timing was too tight in accordance with the emergence of the other unwelcome guest: the parasite. Then, of course, both occurrences claimed Pete—simultaneously. It was all because of Justin's chance encounter with the flower in this cave in front of him.
The second time Justin's life had changed here was when Joe Hendricksson crash-landed. The whole occurrence was a combination of blind luck and logic-defying probability. Joe shouldn't have been allowed to live as long as he drifted, not to mention the harrowing ride down should've killed him—amazing that he didn't even break one bone. Regardless of what kind of sophisticated restraint systems the craft had, it was a bloody miracle.
And now, venturing into the mines for [hopefully] the last time, Justin's life would change again.
"Alright, stay sharp. Don't let your mind wander down here. Stay frosty and this will pay off big. One final effort is all that remains. We get the weapons, we head back to the Pelican, we cut off the head of the snake."
Justin was no stranger to change. His life was wrought with it. He was perfectly fine with riding out one last change.
But he and everyone else had no Godly idea what horrors lied ahead of them, no idea at all.
…Into the Deep