“What the hell is happening over there? What’s going-”
“It’s the faustling. Somehow it escaped. It let all of the other prisoners free. They slaughtered most of us before we even knew what was hap-”
The line went dead.
Kane replaced the handset carefully and stared into space.
5:37 left on the countdown.
The batling watched over its newly-risen army with pride. Many of the creatures it fondly remembered; remembered breathing life into their original ancestors. Those original hordes, raised to purge the earth, had been magnificent. Their descendants were but poor replicas, but they would do. Hatred for humanity was instilled in their hearts and that was all that was needed to ignite the inferno of war. This time there would be no outcome other than humanity’s extinction.
The time of man was at an end.
But there was a matter of some urgency to deal with first. The batling sensed the sudden doom in the hearts of those yet living. They all feared certain death, but not at the hands of claws and teeth; something even more certain, something that was quickly approaching.
As was the case with Samhain, the batling had no doubt that the men of the facility would seek self-destruction. There was a single man who could potentially end the batling’s glorious slaughter before it even got started.
The general.
The batling flew down the corridor of subbasement 10, forgetting about its quarry within the rooms beyond momentarily. The Dennisons could wait until later.
It reached the elevator at the end of the corridor and immediately wedged its claws into the gap between the metal doors. It proceeded to force them open until a gap big enough to pass through appeared.
The elevator was not present in the shaft. The batling swooped upwards into the empty space. It spiralled higher and higher, passing floors that were filled with more bloodthirsty warriors ready to do its bidding. Eventually it came upon the elevator, blocking its progress further.
Like a lead ball spewed from a cannon, the batling wrapped its wings around itself and pierced right through the floor of the elevator. The doors inside were already open, allowing the batling to shoot straight out into the Nucleus and spear the nearest human.
The woman screamed as she was torn apart from the neck of her blouse to the belt around her trousers.
The other humans in the room scattered in terror as the batling swooped into the air, towering above them all. Even the men with guns dove into hiding.
That’s it, worms. Scream, scream so that I may bathe in your fear as I spill your guts to the floor.
But there was no time to waste with simple pleasures. There was only one rancid human the batling was interested in.
The batling swooped in a circle, taking in its surroundings. At the far side of the room was a glass partition. Behind it was…
Geneeeraaal.
The batling dive-bombed a nearby human and then accelerated towards the office at the back of the room.
The general looked up from his desk just in time to see the batling smash through the glass window of his office. He immediately leapt up and opened fire with a bulky silver revolver.
The batling cartwheeled in the air, dodging every bullet until the general’s weapon was empty. Then it swooped down and slashed a furrow across the old man’s forehead. The blood flowed in a thick sheet, coating the general’s face and sending him back down into his chair, panting and wide-eyed.
“Whateverrr you have done, Geneeeraaal, undo it. This facility cannot fall. Your job is to protect it.”
The general wiped blood from his face. “My job is to bury you alive. And that’s just what I am going to do, you…you abomination.”
“Undo it, now!”
“It’s over. You’re going to die in exactly,” the general glanced at his computer. “Two and a half minutes.”
The batling laughed. “It is not over. It is only just beginning. We are many. You are a soldier and yet you seek to run, to take the easy way out. If you were an honourable man you would live and fight in the days ahead.”
The general wiped more blood from his face. His thinning grey hair had now turned crimson. He panted in fear. “W-what do you mean?”
“That this is just one battleground of many. If I fall then others will take my place. This is not humanity’s last stand. Your actions here today are inconsequential, and yet you seek to die from them.”
The uncertainty on the old man’s face was delectable. Putting doubt into men’s hearts was one of the greatest joys of the batling’s kind.
“Put a stop to it, General, and I will allow you to live another day. I will give you the chance to die an honourable, soldier’s death—in battle, not an office cubicle.”
The general shook his head. Blood droplets flew everywhere. “No, I cannot. I made an oath.”
“You made an oath worth ssshit to a God worth nothing. Deus Manus has been but a thorn in the side of the true creator. Soon we will resign it a footnote in the history of a new and glorious world. Enjoy your death, General. It has meant truly nothing. You will not even be remembered.”
The general sat up in his chair, a pained expression on his crimson face. His fingertips reached out in front of him.
• • •
“Sorry to inform everybody,” said Dr Gorman, “but I’m afraid we have just about a minute to live.”
“What?” said Andy. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that a sixty second warning just popped up on my computer screen. The facility is about to start filling up with cement.”
Andy grabbed Sun by her shoulders. He had to talk to her, tell her she loved him. It couldn’t end like this, with her sleeping.
Maybe that’s for the best.
“Nice knowing you all,” West muttered. He placed his assault rifle down on the floor at his feet and sat back in a swivel chair that he had found himself into.
The remaining lab assistants all began to sob, men and women both. The Irishman, Lucas, stood calmly with his hands clasped together in front of him.
“Thirty seconds,” said Gorman.
Andy placed a hand against his wife’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Sun. I should have put my foot down and never come here. I failed you. I wish I could make it up to you in the next life, but after all we’ve seen together, I’m not sure there is one.”
Lucas placed a hand on Andy’s shoulder. It seemed to cause a brief spark of static, like touching a friction-charged balloon. “We all get what we deserve in the end, lad. If Heaven is a place you feel that you both belong, well then that’s where you will most likely be.”
Andy realised there were tears in his eyes. He looked at Lucas and nodded. “Thank you.”
“Ten seconds.
Nine…”
Eight…”
Seven…”
Six…”
Five…”
Four…”
Three…”
…
…
“I…I don’t believe it.”
Andy turned to Dr Gorman at her computer. “What? What is it?”
“The countdown has halted. The emergency protocols have been cancelled.”
Andy spun on the spot and went over to her. “Does that mean the facility has been secured? Are we getting out of here?”
“Impossible,” said West. “I’ve been radioing round for the past thirty minutes and nobody is answering.”
Dr Gorman typed away. “Let me check.” She brought up a new menu and entered several commands. It was only a moment or so before a grid of thumbnails came onscreen displaying the numerous camera feeds of the Spiral. None of them showed anything good.”
“Everybody’s dead,” West muttered as he came over to join them and saw the camera feeds.
Andy blinked slowly as he took in the carnage. Almost every thumbnail gave an image of a blood-soaked room or corridor, littered with mangled torsos and discarded human limbs. Many of the corridors were currently being stalked by abominations of all shapes and sizes. A dozen nightmares were being played out simultaneously. One floor was infested with huge rodent-like creatures gnawing feverishly on the dead, while another floor featured a huge ape-like humanoid that resembled in every way a yeti. It was joined by a hooved beast that stood on hind legs like a man but otherwise resembled an elk—with giant, twisted antlers.
Andy rubbed at his cheeks and tried to make sense of the situation. “So, if we’re still in deep shit, why did Kane stop the countdown?”
“I don’t know. I can’t find him anywhere on the cameras.”
“Perhaps the old fella didn’t have the bottle,” Lucas suggested.
“What do you mean?” asked West.
“Perhaps his time of reckoning was upon him and he decided that he wasn’t ready to give up the ghost yet. Maybe he felt he still had things to do.”
West snorted. “Kane is committed to this facility and keeping it secure. He would not have backed out. If the facility needed destroying then he would have done so. I’ve worked under General Kane for more than three years. I know the man.”
Lucas laughed. “The only person who can truly know a man is the man himself. Quite often you’ll find that the shape of a man’s heart doesn’t match his smile.”
West shook his head and grunted. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Perhaps not to you.”
“Whatever.” West picked up his rifle from the floor. “I’m going back out into the conference room. I didn’t see Sergeant Rimmer on any of those camera feeds. Maybe I’ll be able to get hold of him if I keep trying.”
Gorman nodded. “As you would have it. I will remain here and try to make Mrs Dennison comfortable. I take it you will remain also, Mr Dennison?”
Andy stroked his wife’s clammy forehead and nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”
There was an almighty crash from the room beyond.
Lucas sighed. “Then it’s just as well that the fun seems like it’s going to come to us.”
“Dude, she’s coming in.”
Rimmer pointed his weapon at the slowly cell door. “Don’t you think I see that?”
The basilisk grinned at them as the cell opened up. Her serpent tongue darted back and forth between her slimy lips.
“Dude, shoot her.”
Rimmer fired off his weapon, the handgun bucking in his hand. Jerry had never seen a handgun up close, but right now he wished he had one of his own. IT looked pretty badass.
The bullets struck the basilisk in her chest, drawing out several wells of dark green blood.
But she kept coming, her anger and malicious intent only intensified. The hatred in her wide, lizard eyes seemed to burn white-hot.
Rimmer fired more rounds. All of them hit home, drawing more blood.
But the basilisk kept on coming, sliding through the gap in the cell and onto the sandy ground inside. Once she slithered upon the sand, the basilisk began to move awkwardly, not engineered to move along a shifting surface like a desert. Perhaps she was not as close to a snake as Jerry had thought. The slime covering her flesh seemed to cling to the sand and slow her down.
Rimmer emptied his clip, caused more wounds, but the bullets may have well have been measly flies for all the concern they were causing their target.
“I’m out,” said Rimmer, reaching for a clip on his belt. “Shit, I’m really out. I don’t have any more ammo.”
Jerry shifted his weight from left to right, almost bouncing as he anxiously watched the basilisk get closer.
“Do something,” Rimmer shouted. “Don’t just stand there.” While shouting this, Rimmer leapt across the sands like a gladiator, his gun raised above his head like a cudgel. Just as he landed, the basilisk swiped at him with one of her razor-like talons, sending him sprawling to the ground and bleeding.
Jerry had to do something.
So he did.
The only thing he could think of.
He bent at the knees, scooped up two handfuls of sand, and then unleashed it into the air. The mini-sandstorm flew in the basilisk’s direction, causing her to swipe and parry with her slithery arms.
The sand coated the basilisk’s face, filled her wide, serpent-like eyes. She screeched, swiping at the air blindly.
Jerry leapt down beside Rimmer and felt the sodden blood-stained sand beneath his splayed fingers. “Dude, gross! You’re all bleeding and shit.”
Rimmer grunted, clutched at his arm tightly, but managed to get to his feet. “It’s just a scratch. I’m fine. Let’s get the hell out of here while we can.”
“No need to tell me,” said Jerry.
They sprinted across the sand towards the open cell door but, before they made it out, Jerry stopped, turned around, and looked at the basilisk from behind.
“Come on” said Rimmer. “What are you doing? We have to go.”
Jerry marched up behind the distressed basilisk, a grim look upon his face.
Then he kicked her up the arse as hard as he could, before sprinting out of the cell and joining Rimmer.
“Feel better now?” Rimmer asked him, a jovial ring to his voice.
“Not really. I hurt my foot. That ugly, Daryl Hannah-wannabee, bi-atch must work on her glutes.”
“Shit!” Rimmer slid to a stop.
Jerry did the same, almost slipping in a puddle of blood.
Up ahead were the two giant spiders.
“I really hate those things,” said Jerry. “Even the one with six legs left.”
The spiders spotted the two men and immediately hissed. Then they came.
Instead of running backwards and fleeing, Rimmer sprinted forwards and engaged.
Jerry reached out a hand to stop the man but it was too late.
Rimmer leapt in the air and then hit the ground on his ass, sliding. All of the blood on the floor allowed him to skid along for several metres, grabbing the assault rifle of one of his fallen comrades as he passed by.
As soon as Rimmer came to a stop, he brought the rifle around in front of him and opened fire.
Letting off short, three-round bursts, Rimmer aimed at, and managed to hit, the spider’s bulbous bodies from a low angle. The creatures screeched and hissed as the bullets penetrated their soft underbellies.
The spider with the two missing legs staggered sideways and then fell onto its back, remaining legs folded in on itself.
The remaining spider came forwards, but its movements were awkward and confused. Rimmer climbed to his feet, aimed carefully, and fired the remaining rounds into the spider’s face. The bullets ripped apart the beast’s fangs and one of its six eyeballs.