Fast (35 page)

            Coleman didn’t climb up.

            ‘I’m going back down,’ he said. ‘Marlin should double-back to the riser. He might not be in any condition to make the climb.’

            Vanessa grabbed Coleman’s arm. ‘If you see the surfactant ignite, get out as fast as you can.’

            Coleman nodded. ‘Keep the templates safe.’

            He leant back and free-fell straight down the shaft.

#

Marlin scrambled through the shafts.

            Two creatures pursued right behind him.

            When he saw the creature about to trap Third Unit, before he knew it, he was up and racing for the intersection, diving in front of the creature, getting caught and then fighting free as the creature hooked his left boot and tore a gaping flesh wound in his calf.

            Then his plan, if you could call it that, was to draw the creatures to the south and lose them in the shafts. Once he lost the hostiles, he would double-back quietly towards the riser.

His plan sucked.

            His wounded left calf felt worse than he first thought. He didn’t have time to stop and treat the injury. He knew that if he checked, he’d see white bone where the thorns had stripped away flesh.

            Only will power drove his hands and knees to keep pumping forward, claiming distance, trying to stay ahead of the creatures. He’d caught a break when two creatures collided in an intersection behind him. He’d gained fifteen meters, but hadn’t lost the hostiles since. No fans remained to distract the creatures. Every time he crossed an intersection, they were just seconds behind him. Blind luck had gotten him this far. At every intersection, more creatures headed his way.

            If they caught him, they would do to his entire body what they had done to his calf.

            He’d be butchered alive by a dozen serrated knives.

            The others should have reached the riser by now.

            He’d given up listening to the shafts ahead. The noise behind him blocked out all other sound except his own pounding hands and knees. Even the sticky surfactant seemed to be slowing him down. The slight pull against his fatigues and limbs felt stronger and stronger every second, like crawling over a giant piece of sticky-tape. The sticky combustible covered him.

            He glanced backwards as the shaft shuddered.

           
Damn.
Now three of the bastards pursued him.

            At least they were chasing him single file. The more creatures behind him, the less chance he had of crawling headlong into one.

            He clambered into the next intersection.

            And headlong into a creature.

            A gaping mouth loomed from the side shaft.

            Twisting like a contortionist, Marlin launched himself ass-first down the opposite shaft. Falling, he shuffled against the shaft sides, hustling frantically backwards. The creature reached its tentacles right across the intersection.

            One tentacle slid over his helmet. Marlin heard the
tat-tat-tat-tat
of thorns sliding an inch above his ear.    He prayed his helmet would save him, but the last few thorns slipped under the helmet, ploughed across his temple and snagged his helmet’s chin-strap.

            His head jerked forward. Thorns dragged though his flesh, but the chin-strap held tight.

            Still struggling backwards, Marlin’s chin-strap locked him to the creature.   His head jerked savagely forward. His dog tags tore from his neck. They clinked down into the intersection and fell through the vent slots.

            Wedged into the shaft, he strained against the creature, a stubborn leg-locked dog on a leash. His heels started sliding, just an inch at first, but then steadily further as the creature dragged him towards the intersection. His hands gradually slipped on the surfactant. He couldn’t get any proper leverage. He couldn’t reach his weapon. His head was twisting upwards and to the left; it felt like the creature was ripping his head right off.

            I’m only going to get one chance at this. And it’s gunna hurt.

            He reached up and deftly pinched his chin-strap’s clasp.

            The clasp virtually exploded open.

            His head rocketed backwards. The helmet flew forwards into the intersection. The thorns gouging his temple didn’t come away so easily.

            Marlin’s scalp tore away like a piece of velcro.

            He fell backwards down the shaft and slid along the surfactant. Before he stopped sliding, he spun over and started scrambling.

            Blood poured down his face, blinding one eye and running off his nose.
That’s a lot of blood. I can’t believe this is happening to me.

The pain felt phenomenal. His hearing seemed unbalanced. Had he lost his ear as well? He checked.

            Yep, one ear was gone.
Mother fucker. I’ve got my sister’s wedding next week. She’s going to kill me for getting messed up before the wedding.

            Marlin squinted forwards. Blue smoke filled the shaft ahead.

            It’s the riser. I’m back on track. I’ll beat these fuckers yet.

            He put his head down and plunged into the thick blue smoke.

#

Cairns loaded his HK Flare Pistol.

            The pistol made up part of his regular accruement, like the SOG punch-dagger hidden in the small of his back.

            In the right circumstances the pistol functioned as a crudely effective remote detonator. It burned more than hot enough to ignite the surfactant in the vents.

            He signaled the forklift. The driver rapidly reversed the forklift from the vent. Gould had already isolated the smoke and fire detectors. Cairns took aim and fired. The flare flew straight up into the vent.

Perfect aim.

           
Whooomp!

           
Flames exploded from the vent as the flare ignited the surfactant.

            Cairns smiled as the chemical reaction engulfed the vent and started roaring through the shafts. The next two ceiling vents either side of Cairns erupted in flames. Then, further along, four more vents ignited as the chemical reaction raced through the network. Cairns followed the path of igniting surfactant as an ever-growing number of vents spat out flames.

            If not already dead, the Marines would start dropping from the ceiling any second now.

            Cairns turned to Lieutenant Bora, expecting Bora’s usual smirking nod of approval, but Bora bent to pick something up from the floor. It looked like a set of dog tags on a chain. Bora’s expression looked odd. He glanced up from the dog tags to the flames licking from the vents, apparently hypnotized by the fiery spectacle. This wasn’t like Bora. Normally he would be offering betting odds on how long before the Marines dropped screaming from the vents.

           
It’s not important
, Cairns told himself, tucking away the flare pistol. No doubt Bora feels guilty about losing the templates.

            Returning his attention to the vents, Cairns lifted his submachine gun and waited.

#

Coleman free-fell down the shaft.

            Halfway down, he jammed his boots and forearms against the sides to bleed off speed. His braking method hardly worked; he’d forgotten about the slippery surfactant.

            He hit the bottom hard. With a thunderous
bang,
his boots smacked into the bottom of the riser. He rolled over the impact point and absorbed the rest of the fall with his arms. His friction in the riser slowed him past the danger point, but he wouldn’t try that trick again soon. He mustn’t get sloppy in his rush to help Marlin.

            Despite what he’d said to Vanessa, Coleman doubted Marlin could outmaneuver so many creatures in the vents. But he wouldn’t give up on Marlin. He’d never leave a team member. If Marlin stood any chance at all, he needed to have doubled back and be heading towards the riser this very second.

            Coleman squatted in the bottom of the riser and listened. Eight ventilation shafts branched from the riser’s base. Hostile sounds banged through the shafts from every direction. Making sense from the noise seemed impossible.

            Then Coleman simultaneously heard two new sounds.

            The first sound was a forklift reversing rapidly away. That had to be the forklift Cairns was using. It might mean he was about to ignite the surfactant.

            The second sound was different.

            The sound gave Coleman a moment’s hope.

            It was a repeating sound, just audible among the chaotic thumping and banging of the creatures working through the shafts, a steady
thump, thump, thump, thump
of someone crawling fast towards the riser. Someone crawling just ahead of the creatures.

            Marlin, you magnificent bastard!

            Marlin was still in the game.

            ‘That little tunnel rat’s going to make it,’ said Coleman, relief washing over him.

            But which shaft? Coleman spun on his boot toes, trying to pinpoint Marlin’s direction. He couldn’t tell the direction; the sound seemed to come from everywhere. In fact, with all the echoes, it
was
coming from everywhere.

            ‘Captain, you got incoming,’ Forest called down the riser.

            Coleman looked straight up into a cloud of butterflies. The butterflies spiraled down the riser, swarmed around Coleman, then fragmented into smaller clouds that funneled down the shafts.

            Most of the butterflies streamed into the northwest shaft.

            Coleman followed them. Butterflies meant creatures. Creatures meant Marlin.

He’d hardly moved two meters down the shaft when he saw Marlin crawling across the intersection twenty-five meters away.

            ‘Marlin!’ yelled Coleman, dragging the flashlight from his webbing. ‘This way!’

            He shone his flashlight down the shaft.

            His torchlight revealed a scene from a horror movie.

            Coleman took a second to recognize his friend’s ruined face. Marlin looked an absolute mess. Blood soaked his entire head. The left side of Marlin’s once smooth face hung in messy shreds. Strips of his mangled cheek slapped into his chin as he crawled. The top of his head looked scalped.

            Marlin crawled in front of three creatures.

            Suddenly the nightmare got worse.

            A fire-wave rolled into the intersection behind Marlin. It flowed like crimson quicksilver, sweeping over every surface. For a moment the igniting surfactant engulfed the intersection, transforming the space into a glowing furnace. Then like a zero-gravity red velvet wave, the fire raced down the shaft towards Marlin.