Jason swallowed hard and felt a surge of emotion fill his chest. He could tell that Hazo already knew the answer, but needed him to make peace with it. ‘Yes.’
‘Then I must stay here. You know that.’
A feeling of utter helplessness wrenched Jason, made his head numb. He’d already lost two men today.
‘Jason, we’ve got a problem,’ Meat said, monitoring the scene below. ‘The rats. They’re moving closer.’ He also noticed that the tiny yellow light on Crawford’s walkie-talkie that had been blinking in a steady rhythm had now turned to a sporadic pulse. ‘I think Crawford’s gizmo got a good jolt when he hit the ground. Looks like it’s fading out.’
Jason glanced at the nuke’s digital counter. Fifteen minutes, eight seconds. There was no way they could carry Hazo outside in time. And with a broken back, Crawford wouldn’t be making it out either. Unfortunately, there’d also be no time to interrogate the colonel.
‘Hazo’s right,’ Meat said. ‘We don’t have much time. And there’s no way we can allow these rats to get out of here. Let the nuke do its job. It’s the best option we’ve got to stop this thing from spreading.’
Jason nodded and turned his attention back to Hazo. ‘You’re a great man, Hazo. Your family will be very proud when I tell them what you’ve done.’
Meat peered down at Crawford again and his eyes went wide. Though the colonel had given up on the M-16, he was now using his good arm to make a play for the apple-sized grenades clipped to his vest. ‘Oh you fucker,’ Meat hissed, baring his teeth. ‘Don’t even think about it!’ He raised his rifle, took careful aim at Crawford and squeezed off three rounds. One of the rounds split the colonel’s wrist, the other two sank deep into the bulletproof flak jacket.
Crawford bellowed out in pain and spewed a string of obscenities at Meat.
‘And that goes double for you too,’ Meat replied, grinning.
‘Thank you, Jason,’ Hazo said. ‘Thank you for showing me hope when I saw nothing but despair. When I meet my father again, it will be with dignity. Now you must go. Please.’
Meat descended the ladder while monitoring the scene directly below: rats streaming up and down the ramp leading into the container, as if staging a raid.
‘Make sure you don’t get bit,’ Jason warned, as he gripped the ladder’s side rails and swung his foot out on to the top rung.
‘Duh,’ Meat muttered. Reaching the lowest rung, he leaped out over the horde and landed safely in the shrinking circle of clear ground that surrounded Crawford.
When Jason looked over at the colonel, he couldn’t believe what he saw. Crawford was now hammer-swinging his mangled hand at his walkie-talkie, trying to smash it. ‘Meat! Stop him!’
Meat dashed over to the colonel and grabbed the thrashing arm with both hands. ‘Give it up, Crawford!’
‘Fuck you!’ the colonel seethed, grimacing from the pain.
Cranking the arm down, Meat dropped his knees on to it, pinning it hopelessly to the ground.
Jason jumped down off the ladder and came up behind Meat.
Crawford’s entire body quaked from the adrenaline coursing through his system. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing!’ he ranted madly. ‘Don’t let
them
win! It’s them or us! Don’t you see?!’
‘Yeah, yeah …’ Meat said, snatching the blood-covered walkie-talkie from Crawford’s belt. ‘I’ll take this, thanks.’ He tossed it to Jason.
Crawford spat in Meat’s face. ‘You’re a disgrace!’
Using his sleeve to wipe the saliva from his cheek, Meat replied sarcastically, ‘And aren’t you just sweet as a cupcake?’
‘Take his grenades too,’ Jason said.
Meat plucked the three grenades from Crawford’s flak jacket and clipped them to his own belt.
Meanwhile, Jason went over to retrieve Crawford’s fumbled Bowie knife, which had landed within inches of the advancing wall of vermin. Crouching to grab the knife, he stared at the mind-boggling infestation - a sea of beady eyes filled with unnatural bloodlust. He was certain that plague DNA alone couldn’t account for the rats’ wild behaviour. What had Stokes been feeding them? He stood and paced over to Crawford.
‘You’re responsible for quite a few deaths today, Crawford,’ Jason said. ‘Mostly good men who believed in you … trusted you. That’s a lot of blood on your hands. As far as I see it, it’s high time for you to pay for what you’ve done.’ He dropped the knife on to Crawford’s chest. ‘You can keep that, tough guy. See how well you do against them.’ He motioned to the rats. ‘
Capeesh
?’
Crawford’s jaw jutted out, his eyes boiling with rage and defeat.
‘Come on, Jason. Let’s get outta here,’ Meat said, motioning to the entry tunnel.
‘Just a sec,’ Jason said. He unclipped the light from Crawford’s M-16 and set it on the ground to illuminate the spot.
‘Wh— … what are you doing?’ Crawford demanded.
Slowly backing away, Jason grinned while holding up the sputtering walkie-talkie. With each step, the ultrasonic barrier retreated from Crawford and the hungry rats encroached a few inches more into the circular void - countless hungry eyes glinting red in the light.
The colonel tried desperately to grip the Bowie knife with only the limited function of a thumb and a pinkie. The blade slid off his chest and landed just out of reach. ‘
Aaaaaaah!
‘ He propped himself up on his good elbow, and tried to drag his crippled body away from the rats. That didn’t work either.
‘Hazo!’ Jason called out.
‘Yes, Jason. I’m still here,’ came the Kurd’s weak reply from high up on the platform.
‘Can you see this?’ He glanced up at the platform and saw Hazo’s head pop into view.
‘Yes.’
‘This is for you, buddy. Godspeed, my friend.’ Jason took another step back. The rats spilled over Crawford’s paralysed legs and began feeding.
Crawford screamed bloody murder. ‘Damn you, Yaeger!’
Holding the flashlight to his watch, Meat reported, ‘We only have twelve minutes left.’ But he could tell that Jason was determined to make the colonel suffer.
Jason paused for a long moment to let Crawford wallow in terror. Then he took another step backwards. The rats scurried up the colonel’s thighs and genitals, clawing viciously, gnashing and tearing away flesh in chunks. Crawford couldn’t yet feel the pain, but the sheer horror that showed in his eyes consumed the last ounce of his bravado.
Jason counted slowly to ten. Another step backwards brought the rats over the colonel’s chest. They chewed wildly at his flak jacket, digging for flesh. When they attacked the mangled arm still trapped under his torso, the ungodly pain finally registered. Shrieking in agony, Crawford swatted madly at them with his other arm, but the effort was futile.
After another ten-count, Jason took a further step back.
Now the rats fought for the tender flesh of the colonel’s neck, ears and face. Crawford’s thrashing arm, thick with clinging rats, was now useless. When he screamed one last time, a rat buried itself in his throat, while two more clawed at his eyes. The body went into spasm.
Satisfied, Jason dashed towards the tunnel where Meat stood anxiously waiting.
The black wave crashed over Crawford’s body.
‘Feel better now?’ Meat said.
‘Much,’ Jason said, setting the transmitter on the ground just inside the narrow entryway. ‘That should hold them back long enough. Now let’s get the hell out of here!’
‘What’s going on in there?’ one of the marines outside the cave entrance asked. ‘I heard explosions …’ He was clearly shaken by the urgency with which Jason and Meat were making their exit.
Jason hooked him by the arm as they passed, pulled him towards the slope. Meat grabbed the guy’s partner by the shoulder and goaded him along right behind them.
‘I need you to help me get everyone down to the MRAP … right now,’ Jason said.
‘Why? What’s—’
Jason quickly conveyed the seriousness of the situation. He verified the elapsed time on his wristwatch then said, ‘There’s a nuke inside this mountain that’s going to blow in less than four minutes.’
‘A nuke?’ Hearing his own words rattled the marine even more. ‘Get outta here!’
‘A really big nuke,’ Meat said with extreme drama.
‘Now go!’ Jason said, prodding the marine down the slope. ‘Everyone needs to be inside the vehicle!’ He took a moment to survey the camp and confirmed that the backup platoon still hadn’t arrived. For once, he was grateful for their inefficiency. Down below, six more marines were in plain sight, including the wounded.
‘You too,’ Meat said to the second marine, who was showing signs of disbelief. ‘Get going.’
‘But where’s Crawford?’ he asked.
‘Dead. Same as Holt and Ramirez,’ Meat told him. ‘Same as us if we keep standing here.’ Meat wasn’t about to debate the issue. He turned and started down the slope. If the guywas smart,he’d follow.
‘Dead?’ the marine muttered in disbelief. He stared at the cave for a long moment wondering if he’d just been fed a line of bullshit. Then he came to his senses and hurried after Meat.
Jason secured the MRAP’s rear doors the best he could since the massive indentations made by the earlier boulder collision had misaligned the hinges. ‘All clear. Go!’ he yelled to the driver.
The engine roared and the hulking troop carrier lurched forward.
‘How much longer?’ Meat asked.
He glanced at his watch again. ‘Less than a minute.’
Jason hoped that the walkie-talkie had enough juice left in it to hold back the rats for just a little longer. But even if the brood managed to break through the ultrasonic barrier, they’d have a tough time squeezing through the rubble pile Meat had plugged up using Crawford’s three grenades.
He scanned the worried faces of the marines huddled tight along the side-wall benches. One of the soldiers had his left arm in a sling, two others had bandaged heads, and the cute robot operator with the pageboy haircut had a makeshift splint wrapped tight over her right shin. ‘Everybody all right?’
Some nods, some affirmative responses.
‘Sergeant Yaeger,’ the driver called back. ‘I just received confirmation that 5th Division has turned around again and is returning to base camp. They’re about three klicks to the west.’
‘Good,’ Jason said.
The MRAP gathered speed as it climbed on to the roadway and headed south.
‘Jesus, what happened in there?’ one of the marines asked.
Casting his eyes to the floor, Jason wasn’t sure how to respond. Would anyone really believe the truth?
Meat answered for him: ‘A weapons stash.
Huge
weapons stash. It was booby-trapped. Crawford must’ve hit some kind of tripwire that activated a timed detonator.’ He looked to Jason for corroboration.
Jason nodded.
‘But you said there was a nuke in there,’ the second marine who’d been guarding the cave entrance challenged. ‘How are we supposed to believe—’
‘Hey, wise guy, I think you should shut up and grab hold of something,’ Meat advised sternly, counting down the final seconds in his head.
The testy marine wisely clammed up and clasped the handle hanging over his head, tight enough to turn his knuckles white.
The others also hunkered down. Tension and anticipation filled the air.
Nobody spoke.
Five seconds later, a brilliant white light flashed through the rear window, accompanied by an earsplitting explosion on par with a thunderclap. There was a deceptive delay that preceded the shockwave. When it hit, the MRAP groaned and bucked, jostling everyone inside. Arms and legs flailed and bodies rolled. The hull filled with screams and expletives.
A barrage of heavy debris pounded the roof, clanging the vehicle’s thick armour plating like a gong. The white light dissipated and a second wave of pelting debris came raining down over the truck’s exterior.
Then came an eerie calm.
The intensity of the blast had Jason feeling confident that even if some of the rats had managed to escape before the nuke detonated, either the searing heat wave would have vaporized them, or the crunching pressure wave would have pulverized them.
‘Told you it was a nuke,’ Meat said to the sceptical marine.
‘I feel like I’m hanging from a noose,’ Meat grumbled as he tugged at the starched white collar that strangled his eighteen-and-a-quarter-inch neck. The rented black tuxedo paired a size 46 long jacket with a pair of 34 x 34 pants. But it all felt too restrictive, particularly at the shoulders and crotch. The shiny black patent leather 14 EE shoes were no great shakes, either; he hated the way they clicked along the marble tiles of the museum’s Great Court. ‘God, I hate playing dress-up.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jason said, fixing his own bowtie and taking extra-long strides to keep up with Meat. ‘Dressing up is all we’ve been doing for the past five years,’ he reminded him. ‘Except this time we get to shower and shave, even smell nice. Nothing wrong with looking classy once in a while.’
Jason gazed up to admire the deep cerulean sky coming through Norman Foster’s glass and steel canopy - a segmented dome of triangular glass panels which covered the hectare Great Court that was the heart of the British Museum. At the court’s centre, he scanned the mingling VIPs who sipped champagne in front of the circular Reading Room. Still no sign of Flaherty.