Primeval (Werewolf Apocalypse Book 2) (36 page)

“Jesus, how many are there?” Howard said with a gasp.

“Looks like thousands,” Michael answered. “But I can’t tell how far down they go. I bet they’re five or six deep, walking on each other’s backs.”

The creatures leaped up, attempting to climb the walls, their black claws scratching furiously at the brick. Their squeaking became louder, more insistent.

Burns motioned at the dark hallway beyond the ladder. He asked, “What’s on the other side of the door? That get us back on the B Line?”

“I think so,” Michael answered. “If the compass in my head is correct, and it usually is, then that should lead us right to the tracks leading to Brooklyn. I bet they’re not more than fifty feet past that door.”

“But we have to cross this chasm on that wobbly tin walkway?” Sandy asked. “Over the rats?”

The water rushing into the room rose a bit, from their ankles up to mid-calf level. Some pipe somewhere had opened up to wash out the sewage somewhere behind them. The dirty water splashed down into the pit, causing several of the rat monsters to scamper back away from it and head for higher ground.

One of the beasts made a leap at the walkway, coming within two feet of the metal rungs.

“You really think this will lead us to the subway?” Burns asked Michael. “It’s not something I want to do. If one of us tumbles down into that rat pit, we’ll be stripped to the bone in seconds. It’d be like a piranha feeding frenzy.”

Michael cocked his head. “Yeah, I think it’s over there. If you want, though, we could always head back and go up through the manholes to the streets, take our chances there.”

“You guys also realize it’s dark now, right?” Howard asked. “Night fell a couple of hours ago. If we were up top, we’d be fighting those things in the dark.”

“It’s dark down here,” Sandy reminded him. “And tight.”

“I think we take a vote,” Burns suggested. “Go up to Manhattan or get back on the rail line. I’m open to any other suggestions too.”

Michael said, “Seems like we should know if we can even get across on that walkway. I’ll try it out first.”

Nicole made a grab for him, but Michael had propped John up against the wall and was already moving out onto the metal walkway. There were no railings or handholds, so he put his arms out from his sides, airplane style. He crossed the rungs slowly, taking each one with both feet before continuing. The walkway shuddered as he moved, wiggling beneath him as though it was some rope bridge over an Amazonian River. Nicole pointed out where the walkway was inserted into the walls. The pinions weren’t very secure, and they wriggled in the holes, allowing small clouds of mortar dust to drop into the water beneath it.

The stream of water had increased, rising to their knees. Sandy pointed this out to her girlfriend.

“Some pipe’s been opened,” she said. “Or a big sewer pipe got breached. Either way, that pit’s gonna fill up pretty soon.”

“And if the pit fills with water…”

“That junk will float up to the walkway, maybe even above it.”

“And the rats will be able to reach us. Shit,” Sandy said. “We’d better get going if we’re going to do this.”

Michael finished his crossing, ignoring the trembling of the catwalk beneath his feet. With every step, the thing shuddered, and he called back, “I wouldn’t try to put more than one person at a time on this thing. It’s shaky as hell, and I doubt it’ll hold the weight of two people.”

“Then you go next, Sandy,” Nicole said. “But go slowly and be careful.”

Sandy moved out onto the catwalk, and she felt it shift beneath her. It was slowly pulling out of its moorings in the brick wall on the side where she was walking. She hurried a bit, balancing with her arms out to either side of herself.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” Burns called from behind her. “Just don’t look down.”

Of course, she immediately lowered her gaze into the pit. The rats were scrambling over each other, their beady yellow eyes fixated upon her feet. Several had climbed up onto the mound of trash in the center of the room, and they took turns leaping, trying to get a hold of her feet or legs. They were missing the catwalk, but only by about six inches.

The water kept pouring into the pit, and the pile of detritus in the middle of the room started floating and separating. Chairs broke apart from the crates and tables and sticks, and each began bobbing around the room in a lazy manner.

Turning her eyes back to the other side of the walkway, Sandy focused on Michael. He stood with his arms stretched out to grab her when she got closer, and he was mouthing encouragements to her that she could not hear.

She took another step, less steady this time. More rat creatures tried for her feet. She didn’t know if it was her imagination or if it was real, but they seemed to be getting closer to grasping at the catwalk with their filthy little human-like hands.

Another step and the bridge quivered again. She looked behind herself and saw the posts that attached the walkway to the wall slowly getting pulled from their holes in the brickwork.

“Don’t look at us,” Nicole urged her. The soldier wanted desperately to hurry after her lover, grab her in her arms, and shuffle her quickly off the catwalk, but she was certain the contraption wouldn’t remain in place with their combined weight upon it. “Move your ass.”

Sandy hurried the final few feet across, nearly collapsing into Michael’s arms when she made the final leap. She smiled gratefully into his eyes.

“Good job,” he said. Then he called out, “Who’s next?”

“John, your turn,” Burns said.

The reporter steadied himself against the wall, feeling wobbly. He said, “I don’t think…”

“Hands and knees,” Nicole suggested. “Crawl across as fast as you can. They’ll help you on the other side.”

John dropped to the floor, water swirling around his feet and up to his elbows as he placed his hands against the concrete. Slowly, he edged onto the bridge. It creaked under his weight, and he moaned softly.

“Keep moving!” Michael shouted from the other side.

With a deep breath, the reporter launched himself across the walkway. He moved as swiftly as he could, gazing down into the pit the entire trip across. Several of the rat creatures glared back at him as the water whirlpooled around them. In moments, he felt hands on his shoulders, and he winced at the contact with the still-bleeding wound.

“Sorry,” Michael said, helping him stand.

John had crossed to the opposite bank without even knowing he’d done it. He grinned at Michael and slumped against the wall behind him, breathing heavily.

“Nicole, now you go,” Burns suggested. “That way there’s someone trained on both sides in case something should happen.”

She nodded and stepped onto the catwalk. Looking down, she saw that the pile of garbage had completely broken into separate sections, and a lot of it swirled in circles, the water exiting through a drain in the center of the pit. It wasn’t moving fast enough, though, and the rats were either swimming frantically in the dirty water or standing atop heaps of floating garbage. They had given up jumping at the catwalk, seemingly preferring to wait until the water got high enough for them to get their feet on something solid.

The catwalk shook under her tread, and Nicole speedwalked across it. Each footstep seemed to lower the walkway closer to the rising water… and the hungry mutants.

In moments, she was across the chasm, hugging Sandy close. Michael was patting her on the back. John offered her a big smile.

Burns turned to Howard and waved his hand toward the bridge. “After you,” he said. “Civilians first.”

Behind them in the dark tunnel, something hissed loudly.

“What the hell is this now?” Howard asked, turning his light on the dark tunnel.

The flashlight beam found a huge alligator crashing toward them, about thirty feet away and covering the distance at an incredible speed. It looked as long as a sedan, ridges running down its back and tail. Its jaws opened wide, and it hissed again.

“Jesus, is that the same damn reptile as before?” Burns asked.

“I’m not asking it,” Howard said, and he took off for the bridge.

9:44 p.m.

The alligator hurtled towards them, its tail swishing from side to side in an agitated manner. The scar on its snout indicated that it was, indeed, their old acquaintance from before. The sewer worker it had devoured didn’t seem to have filled it up, and looking at its size, Burns wasn’t surprised.

He knew he didn’t have enough time to wait for Howard to clamber across the walkway, so he followed the dancer onto the catwalk when Howard was only a third of the way across it. The metal structure shifted and groaned under their collective burden, but Burns charged ahead.

Howard stopped with the sudden swaying of the bridge. He stuck his arms out, bent his knees a bit, and tried to regain his balance. Burns was right behind him, but the general was facing backwards, holding his pole out like a tightrope walker. They ended up back to back.

“Come on!” Michael shouted at them from the other side.

The rats were in a writhing frenzy now, the water rising nearly high enough for the good jumpers to nearly grasp hold of the catwalk. They squealed as they endeavored to latch onto the structure, inevitably falling back into the swirling water. The whirlpool effect of the water flooding down the drain in the center of the pit was working in the rats’ favor, moving them in lazy circles so they got another chance at leaping at the catwalk every few seconds when they passed beneath it.

The alligator reached the precipice of the shuddering walkway. It snapped at them a few times, angrily twitching its humongous tail.

“You’d better move now,” Burns told Howard out of the corner of his mouth. “It’s going to…”

The reptile took a tentative step onto the catwalk. The bridge wobbled, but it held.

Howard started to run, the structure vibrating with each step.

Burns turned the long pole so the sharper end of it was pointed at the approaching animal. He took a step backwards.

A mutant rat perched on a broken wooden chair was dragged beneath the catwalk, and it launched itself onto its large haunches. Its black-clawed hands grabbed hold of the bottom of the catwalk. It scrambled to a position between Burns and Howard, its golden eyes fixed on the general’s back.

The alligator, encouraged by its first attempt at crossing the catwalk, took a second step.

The rat slinked toward Burns as another two-foot-long mutant jumped onto the walkway near the alligator’s front legs.

Howard was six feet away from the other side, and he reached for Michael and Nicole’s outstretched hands as he hurried toward them.

With a loud moan, the pinions beneath the alligator gave way, and that side of the catwalk lurched down into the pit of rats. The enormous reptile seemed to fold in half, then it turned upside down, tumbling headfirst into the water-filled pit.

Howard missed the proffered hands, falling face-first onto the structure as it suddenly tilted beneath him. He grabbed hold of both sides of the platform, holding tight when the catwalk hit the bottom of the room on the other side.

Burns fell forward, but he had the pole held in front of himself, and he lodged it in the catwalk’s side. When the alligator’s half struck the bottom of the pit, the general was pulled forward, like a pole-vaulter, and he found his feet twirling in midair. The pole lifted him to a ninety degree angle to the floor, and he wrapped his legs around it.

The rat creature that had clambered aboard the collapsing catwalk tumbled past him into the pit, landing in the water with a splash.

But the hundreds of others saw their opportunity, and the structure that had once been a bridge across the pit had become a ramp for them to the opposite side. Several of them began climbing up, heading for Howard’s dangling legs. Others attacked the alligator, and the massive animal was soon swarmed with rats, biting and tearing at its tough hide to get at the pink meat beneath.

“Howard!” Nicole screamed, leaning forward. “Grab my hand!”

He reached up with one hand while holding on to the ramp with the other. He missed her fingers and swung around by his grip so he got a good view down the structure at the twelve rats climbing towards him. He twisted his body so he was facedown again, trying to get a toehold on the ramp while reaching upwards with his long fingers.

Meanwhile, Burns was still perched near the top of the pole. His body wanted to give in to gravity and slide down the rail into the writhing mass of rats and reptiles. Every time he started to slip, he gripped the metal pole with his shoes and shoved himself back up to the top. The weapon had been sharpened a bit at the apex, and he sliced his hand down the palm once when he wasn’t careful.

The scent of fresh blood drove the rats wild, and they swirled around the pole, leaping at the general’s legs.

Howard kicked his feet, sending the first of the rat creatures plummeting down the forty-five-degree-angle ramp into the others. With a scrambling of sharp claws, they all regained their positions and started marching back towards the flailing dancer.