Ice Hunt (32 page)

More figures appeared, racing at full tilt: an older bald man, a twentysomething girl, and another young man. A tall, striking black woman in military blue led this group.

“Washburn!” O’Donnell called out when she came into sight.

“Pick up your balls and get moving!” she barked back at him.

More gunfire blazed behind the group. Muzzle fire framed the last figure, another sailor. He dropped to one knee, firing a barrage behind him. Lit by a flashlight’s beam, the distant tunnel glowed like a blue snake winding deep into the ice.

“What’s the matter?” Greer asked.

Beyond the kneeling gunman, Matt spotted a darkness flowing up the tunnel.

What the hell?

Washburn led her charges to them. She screamed to be heard over the gunfire. “We have to get out of these tunnels…
now
!”

“We can’t,” Greer said as Washburn pounded to them. “The Russians—”

“Fuck the Russians!” Washburn said, panting hard. “We’ve got a hell of a lot worse on
our
asses!” She waved the others ahead of her.

The gunfire died. The other sailor was on his feet and sprinting toward them. He fumbled to replace his rifle’s spent magazine. “Go, go, go!”

Greer jabbed a finger at O’Donnell and Pearlson. “You and you. Take the civilians back up.”

O’Donnell nodded. He grabbed Craig by the elbow and took off with the panicked folk. Matt shook off Pearlson’s attempt to do the same.

The seaman shrugged and headed up on his own, but he called over his shoulder back to his lieutenant. “What about the Russians, sir?”

Fuck the Russians
. Matt was still stunned by the woman’s response.

Greer’s reply was more useful. “Take them as far as the Crawl Space exit. Then wait for us!”

The only acknowledgment was a quick turn on a heel, and the group continued their headlong flight up the tunnel.

The last Navy man reached them.

“Commander Bratt,” Greer said, sounding surprised.

“Prepare to lay down cover fire!” Urgently, Bratt spun around, dropping to a knee. He ripped a fresh magazine from his coat and slapped it home.

Greer joined his senior officer, standing behind him, rifle pointed over Bratt’s shoulder. He passed his flashlight into Matt’s free hand.

Matt glanced between the retreating party and the two stationary gunmen. He debated which was best—to stay or go. His only other choice was to flee blindly down some side tunnel and get lost. No option seemed wiser than another, so he simply stood his ground.

He stepped to Bratt’s other shoulder.

Bratt glanced up at him, then away. “Who the hell are you?”

Matt raised his pistol, pointing it past the officer. “Right now, I’m a guy covering your ass.”

“Then welcome to the party,” Bratt grumbled back.

“What’s coming?” Greer asked on the other side.

“Your worst goddamn nightmare.”

From beyond the reach of the flashlight, red eyes reflected back at them. Matt’s head began to buzz oddly, like mosquitoes whirling in his skull.

“Here they come!” Bratt said, sucking in a breath.

A massive snowy-skinned creature striped in red…no,
blood
…thundered into view. It filled the tunnel, weeping red from multiple gunshot wounds. Gouged tracks furrowed its sides. The side of its face was raw hamburger. But it kept coming.

What the hell was it?

Other shadows could be seen in brief glimpses behind it.

The lead beast charged toward them. Claws tore at the ice.

The buzzing grew louder in Matt’s skull.

Then a barrage of rifle fire erupted, startling Matt to react. He aimed the 9mm pistol, but he knew the gun was useless. No more than the Alaskan grizzly, such a meager weapon would never bring down this creature. Several of the fresh wounds had been direct strikes between the monster’s eyes.

And still the beast ripped toward them, keeping its domed forehead low, charging like a bull, using its thick rubbery skin and insulating blubber as a bulletproof shield, a natural battering ram.

Matt pulled his trigger, more in blind fear than with any real hope for a kill shot.

“Damn things won’t die!” Bratt confirmed.

Matt continued to fire, squeezing round after round, until the pistol’s slide locked open.

Out of bullets
.

Greer noticed. “Go!” he ordered, tossing his head in the direction of the retreating party, now vanished. His voice vibrated from his own rifle’s recoil as he passed a radio at Matt. “Channel four.”

Matt took the radio, ready to flee.

Then the lead beast crashed to the ice, as if slipping, legs going limp. It slid farther on the ice, nose dragging, then stopped. Its eyes remained staring at them, still reflecting red in the flashlight. But there was no longer life behind them.

Dead
.

The buzzing in Matt’s head faded to a nagging itch behind his ears.

Bratt regained his feet. “Pull back.”

The beast’s bulk blocked the remaining creatures, but the animals still could be seen moving behind the mound of macerated flesh.

Matt and the two Navy men retreated to the next intersection of tunnels. Rifles continued to point at the dead bulk plugging the tunnel.

“That should hold them for now,” Greer said.

The bull’s body jolted forward, sliding toward them, shouldering over slightly. Then it stopped again.

“You had to say that,” Matt muttered, backing away

Greer sneered. “What the fuck?”

The bulk began sliding again.

“The others are pushing from behind!” Bratt said, amazed more than terrified. “Shit!”

The buzzing in Matt’s head, dulled a moment ago, flared anew. But he sensed it came from a new direction, like someone looking over his shoulder. Matt swung toward the neighboring cross tunnel.

As his flashlight turned, a pair of red eyes glowed back at him.

Only ten yards away.

Matt jerked his pistol up, pure reflex, as the creature charged.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted the still open slide on his weapon.

Nope, still out of bullets
.

12:49 P.M.

Unable to determine what drew the grendel away, Amanda had no clue as to its whereabouts now. Connor’s mining helmet hung crooked on her head, casting a slanting beam of light down the tunnel, hitting an orange spray-painted marker on the wall.

Lacy Devlin’s trail marker.

Amanda searched farther down the wall.
Please…

Another painted spot appeared against the blue ice: a green diamond. Lacy’s path had finally crossed another. A sob escaped Amanda. She had reached the mapped areas of the Crawl Space at last.

She raised the handheld radio and pressed the transmit button. “If anyone’s listening, I’ve found another trail. Green diamonds. I’m following it up. I’ve seen no sign of the beast for the past hour. But please help me.”

She clicked the radio off, preserving the battery, and prayed. If only someone
was
listening…

In dead silence, she increased her pace.

As she followed one diamond to the next, she judged she must be close to the inhabited areas of the ice cavern system. Taking a chance, she reached up and twisted her helmet lamp, extinguishing her sole source of light.

Darkness closed around her, close and claustrophobic.

She was now deaf
and
blind.

After half a minute, her eyes adjusted to the press of black ice. She scanned around, first with her eyes, then slowly swiveling her head.

She found what she had been seeking.

Overhead, a faint star glowed deep in the ice, a pool of brightness. Someone was down here with flashlights.

As she stared, standing stationary, the glow suddenly split into two tinier stars, fainter but distinct. Each glow flew quickly away from the other.

One rose higher and away, a fading star, waning, then gone.

The other shot in her direction. Growing brighter, moving fast.

Searchers…someone had surely heard her.

She feared calling out, especially knowing what else lurked in these dark tunnels. Her best chance was to shorten the distance between the moving glow and herself. She twisted her helmet lamp back on.

In the glare of her small bulb, the other glow disappeared. She hated to extinguish the only sign of hope, but it was too dangerous to traverse the ice maze in the dark—and she dared not lose the trail of green diamonds. If her rescuers had heard her, it was this path they would search to find her.

She hurried forward, stopping every other minute to turn off her light and check her bearings in relation to the rescue party.

And she did one other thing at each stop.

12:52 P.M.

“I’m still following the trail of green diamonds. But please be careful. The predator that killed Lacy and Connor is still loose somewhere in these tunnels.”

In Matt’s pocket, the radio passed to him by Greer continued to relay this lost woman’s saga. He had already tried to raise her, but she either couldn’t pick up the signal or had some malfunction with her radio. Whatever the reason, Matt had his own problems.

He continued his mad flight down the ice tunnel, empty pistol in hand, flashlight in the other.

Five minutes ago, the solitary hunter had charged into the crossroads, separating Matt from the two Navy men, filling the passage. The pair had opened fire, trying to buy Matt time to flee.

It hadn’t worked.

After a moment’s hesitation, the beast gave chase—a lioness running down the lone gazelle.

With nothing but an empty pistol in hand, Matt ran headlong down the tunnel, slipping and sliding down steep traverses. He barely kept his footing. His shoulders struck with bruising force against walls and outcroppings. But he refused to slow down. He had already seen how fast a bullet-riddled monster moved. He feared the speed of a healthy, undamaged specimen.

For a few long minutes, he had seen no evidence of the monster. Maybe it had slipped away. Even the fuzzy feeling in his head had quieted. It was as if something emanated from them, something outside the wavelength of ordinary hearing.

Now it had vanished.

Dare he hope the beast was gone with it?

The radio crackled again. “
Please…if you can hear this, bring help. Bring guns! I’m still on the green diamond trail
.”

What the hell did that mean?
Green diamond trail
. It sounded like a Lucky Charms cereal advertisement.

“I’ve not seen any sign of the grendel now for the past forty-five minutes. It seems to have disappeared. Maybe it fled.”

Matt scrunched his brow.
Grendel?
Was that what had attacked them? If so, it seemed this woman knew more about what was down here than anyone else did.

He raced around a corner, skidding on his heels, spinning to make the turn. Ahead the tunnel diverged into two passages. The beam of his flashlight caught a flash of odd color against the ice. A blue circle was painted at the threshold to the right, a green diamond on the left.

Trail markers

Understanding dawned. He chose the left tunnel and continued running, still watching his back, but now also searching for the next green diamond.

Hell, if I’m running, I might as well run toward someone who knows what the hell is going on down here
.

Matt continued, winding this way and that. Gravity and the slick slope pulled him deeper and deeper—and still there was no sign of the woman on the radio. It was endless dark ice, and he moved in a glowing blue grotto, lit by his lone flashlight.

“Hello!”
The call this time did not come through the radio. It came from ahead of him.

Matt skated around another bend, one hand against the ice wall to balance himself. His flashlight beam rounded the corner and illuminated a strange sight: a tall and shapely woman, naked, painted blue, like some Inuit goddess.

He skidded toward her, realizing that she wasn’t naked but instead wore some skintight pale blue unitard, its hood pulled up. She also wore a mining helmet crooked on her head. Its lamp shone in his eyes.

“Thank God!” she cried, hurrying toward him.

Her features became clear when she switched off her lamp. The confusion in her eyes spread over her face.

“Who are you?” She glanced past him. “Where are the others?”

“If you’re looking for a rescue party, you’ll have to settle for me.” He lifted the useless pistol in his hand. “Though I’m not sure I’m going to do you much good.”

“And you are?” she asked again. Her words were slightly slurred, her voice unusually loud. Was she drunk?

“Matthew Pike, Alaskan Fish and Game.”

“Fish and Game?” Her confusion deepened. “Could you lower your flashlight? I…I’m deaf, and I’m having trouble reading your lips against the glare.”

He lowered his light. “Sorry. I’m one of the group being shuttled from Omega.”

She nodded, understanding. But suspicion also glinted. “What’s going on? Where’s everyone else?”

“The station’s been evacuated. The Russians attacked Omega.”

“My God…I don’t understand.”

“And they’re now in the process of commandeering the facility here, too. But what about you? Who are you? Why are you down here alone?”

She moved closer, but her eyes flickered between him and the tunnel behind him. “I’m Dr. Amanda Reynolds. Head of Omega Drift Station.” She told him an abbeviated, hurried story of missing scientists and the sudden attack by the giant ice predator.

“You called them grendels over the walkie-talkie,” he said as she finished her bloody tale. “Like you knew about them.”

“We found frozen remains here. Down in some ice cavern. They were supposed to be fifty thousand years old, dating back to the last ice age. Some type of extinct species.”

Extinct, my ass,
he thought. Aloud he related his own experiences since the Russian attack, keeping a watch on the tunnels with his flashlight.

“So there’s more than one grendel…” she mumbled, her voice a whisper. “Of course, there must be. But how have they remained hidden for so long?”