Kilo-29 (Damned of the 2/19th, Book 15)

Part 32

There was an unearthly scream of rage and pain, impossibly loud, that pushed us, made us stagger back, as something on the other side of the door howled in fury and sudden surprising agony.

"Fall back! Fall back!" I shouted, grabbing Kincaid and tugging. "Fall back!"

The hands, blackened and wreathed in flame, were still on the bottom of the door. I could hear the gears and hydraulic pistons screaming as pressure was put on those hands.

Shads jumped forward, grabbing the bar and pumping it twice before scampering behind us. Kincaid stood up when Shads moved in, backing up with me, and I could sense Donaldson and Wilkins pulling Natchez backwards into the emergency treatment center.

The door slammed down, the fingers vanishing a split second before the door sunk into the socket. The alarms cut off, and the lights panels snapped closed again.

"Fucker was waiting for us." Kincaid yelled. Even through the muffling of the suit I could tell he was pissed. "Goddamn it, how did he know? This is goddamn bullshit. I swear to God I'm going to burn his ass down."

"I don't think it will work." Shads said. "It hurts him, but I don't think it'll stop him."

"What makes you say that?" I asked him, moving over to the only airlock we hadn't opened up. We knew one led to wherever those things were lairing up, the other led back to Tandy/Bishop, that left the third one, which simply read "MEDICAL OPERATIONS" on the door.

"The flesh on the fingers didn't char or blacken, even though the hands were on fire." Shads said, moving up next to me and taking the bar. "I'll do it. I think the fire was just residual fuel burning off that got on it."

"Makes sense." I told him, dropping back next to Kincaid and bringing my rifle back up to port arms.

"He was screaming. It hurts him. That means I can kill him." Kincaid said, popping the igniter again.

"I scream when I cum, that doesn't mean you're hurting me." Nancy laughed, reaching out and running one hand across the fuel tanks. "Maybe Tandy thinks him and Kincaid are going out since they had a little foreplay."

"Did anyone else hear something?" Kincaid asked, turning slightly, trying to look behind him. "I thought I heard a woman's voice."

Nancy grinned from next to him.

"You overheating in that thing?" Donaldson asked. "There's no woman here."

"Can I keep him? He can wear a collar, sleep at my feet in bed, and I'll even feed him off my plate, slip him goodies under the table when he isn't licking my pussy at dinner." Nancy grinned.

"I'm telling you, I hear a woman." Kincaid said, twisting around the other way. "Are the speakers turned down low? Does this thing have a radio?"

"Drink your water." I told him. We'd refilled his water-pack using IV bags. He'd need the saline and the other stuff in them. "Shads, climb up and put your ear to that speaker, see if the system is broadcasting."

Shads let go of the bar and nodded, climbing up on the counter and listening close to the speaker.

"No, but I think I hear something too." He said, moving over to the vent. He peered into it, then put his head next to it. "It's coming from here." He looked at us. "Kincaid's right, I can hear a woman."

Nancy grinned at me, then walked through the closed door.

"Open the door, Shads, let's see what we've got." I ordered. Shads dropped off the counter and moved up to the door, grabbing the bar and throwing it from the down position to the up position.

The door shuddered, and we could all hear the sound of the master cylinder pressurizing. It took a minute before it began slowly rising, only a faint thump heard through the wall the door was set in. Shads knelt down to look, and blinked when the lights cut on on the other side of the door before the door was even up more than a few inches.

"...GENCY TECHNICAL TEAMS TO MAIN COMPUTER SYSTEMS! REPEAT! THERE IS NO CAUSE FOR ALARM. ALL EMERGENCY TECHNICAL TEAMS TO MAIN COMPUTER SYSTEMS FOR BRIEFING AND TRAINING! ALL SHIFTS AND SHIFT LEADERS FOR ALL EMERGENCY TECHNICAL TEAMS TO MAIN COMPUTER SYSTEMS!" blared out, immediately looping and repeating the message again.

Fuck. That wasn't good.

The hallway on the other side was tiled, white and antiseptic looking. Signs warned that whoever was in the hallway was about to enter an emergency triage and operating center and were warned that washing their hands prevented the spread of disease.

The hallway was immaculate. Only a few lightbulbs exploded, and the sudden brightness was almost blinding, even though the operating bay I'd used was lit better, this seemed brighter somehow.

"Let's go. Stay close." I told them. "Kincaid, you're behind me."

If anything happened, either Kincaid would move up past me, or I'd drop behind him. Shads was supposed to provide support to both Kincaid and me, Wilkins was supposed to push Natchez, and Donaldson was supposed to pull drag, keep an eye out for anyone running up our ass, and protect Natchez.

We passed by the doors marked patient recovery, inpatient quarters, operating theaters, nuclear medicine, stopping at each intersection to stare at the placards and hoping we were heading for the elevators and not in a big circle.

The elevators were in sight when the lights flickered twice and died.

The woman's voice, who had been haranguing the tech teams, slowed down to a crawl and died all together.

"If it wasn't for the dark I'd be happy she finally shut up." Kincaid said, popping the igniter.

"Give it a second, and shh." I listened closely.

No air pumps, no fans, nothing. Just silent and dark. I reached up and flicked on my flashlight.

The white hallway shone in the bluish white light from my flashlight. I'd bought hot-shit lightbulbs, Xenon or some shit, or maybe Krypton, all I knew is that the Shoppette had bragged they had about 10X power as a normal bulb. Of course, it was $4.50 for a pack of 2 instead of 5 for a dollar.

"This doesn't feel right." Wilkins said quietly.

"The fans are off." I said, moving up to the elevators and waving them.

Even the little white ring was dark.

"What does..." Shads started to say.

The lights came back on suddenly. The woman's voice went from a slowed down rumble to a high pitched gabbling scream that made no sense. The lights throbbed, going from pale yellow to bright white. The fluorescents almost seemed to scream as they flickered faster and faster until they were nothing but a harsh white bar.

"Cover Natchez!" I yelled out, turning away and shielding my eyes from the light.

The woman's voice was nothing more than one long screeching yowl, and I was aware of sirens kicking on, strobing faster and faster, until they joined the howl. I could hear fans roaring, and faintly smell scorched metal.

With one long rippling crack all the lights exploded. The woman's voice cut back out, and the hallway went silent except for Kincaid's suit fans and the hissing of the flamethrower.

That and our curses, that is.

"Shit." I said, looking back up.

Plates slid back in the walls, revealing red emergency lights that snapped on, bathing us all in blood.

"What now?" Wilkins asked. He didn't sound sarcastic, just scared.

"Back up, Sergeant Ant needs room to find the access." Donaldson said, and I could hear the wheels squeak on the tile as they backed Natchez up.

I searched the wall until I found the small plug set into the tile. It was in between two normal wall outlets, both of them covered with child-safety tabs.

"What's he doing?" Wilkins asked when I pulled the Claymore clacker out of my pocket and plugged it into the wall after thumbing down the safety and clicking it twice to check the little white spot to see if it went orange. The clacker was good, which was a nice change in our luck.

"Opening the doors to the stairs." Donaldson said.

"What fucking stairs?" Wilkins asked.

"Fire in the hole." I said, clacking it three times.

On the far side of the elevators a wall plate jumped off the wall with a ringing clang. Tile exploded from it to shatter on the floor. A thick layer of asbestos and insulation covered the inner side of the steel plate, scorched and smoking from where the micro-charges had gone off.

"Those stairs." Donaldson told him.

Shads and I threw the plate out of the way, grunting at the weight. It was heavy as hell, a lot more heavier than it looked. Then we used our feet to scrape the tile away so that they could get the gurney up to the opening.

"Kincaid, for the love of all that's holy, don't fire that fucking thing in the stairwell access, you'll fucking cook us." I told him. He nodded behind the face shield, licking his lips.

I turned to the others. "Donaldson, Shads, Wilkins, you'll trade off carrying Natchez up the stairs. Kincaid, you have drag, Wilkins, hand me your M-16." Wilkins looked a bit rebellious, but handed it to me anyway. I pulled out my Leatherman tool and popped the trigger guard off so it swung free. "There, you should be able to use this." Donaldson had thrown off all of Natchez's blankets and was trying to pull him into the Kevlar.

Kincaid nodded when I handed it to him, turning off the flamethrower and hanging it from the backpack in a smooth overhanded motion.

The boy was born to run one.

"I'll take point. Stay a flight behind me, don't come up to the next landing until I reach it." I told them. They nodded. Shads had helped Donaldson sit Natchez up so they could drape his battle-rattle around him as best the could. Shads put Natchez's boots back on him and tied them quickly and sloppily.

I looked up the stairwell. It vanished into the darkness, and I caught a whiff of rotting meat.

"He's ready." Donaldson said.

"Shads, Wilkins, you two first." I told them. Shads nodded, and grabbed the shoulder pads of Natchez's Kevlar vest. Wilkins grabbed his boots, and they slid the man off the gurney, Wilkins stepping between his legs and grabbing him at his bare thighs.

Donaldson pulled out a handful of chemlights, quickly stripping off the metallicized plastic wrappers and snapping them. He shook them, then moved to each person, tucking them where he could. He stared at Kincaid for a moment, then shrugged and shoved one into the fuel case and just handed the other to him. Kincaid tucked it between the armored suit and his LBE.

Down the hall, one of the red lights in the distance exploded.

"Sergeant, I think we need to get moving." Shads said as another one, this one closer, went out in a shower of sparks.

"Move out." I told them, hustling into the stairwell. My flashlight wasn't much help, the shaft was about sixty feet across, the stairs at least six feet across, and they wound up to vanish into the darkness.

I moved up the steps, deliberately stomping, feeling it rattle under me. When I got to the first landing, I grabbed the railing and started pulling back and forth, trying to set up a rhythm to get it to start swaying. It didn't work too well, the stairs just groaning.

"Clear." I told them, heading up the next set of spirals to the landing. I tried shaking it, then told them to come up before heading up again.

"Fucking rust." Shads sputtered, trying to spit out the rust flakes that were showering down on them as I moved to the next set and shook it. It swayed slightly, and something went "PING!" in the darkness.

"Goddamn, this is creepy." Kincaid bitched.

The stench of rotting meat got stronger.

"Stay sharp, I think they're around." I told them as I moved up to the sixth landing. That was the first one with another panel, the plastique and det-cord wired on the door and the wires leading into a length of PVC pipe and vanishing at the wall of the shaft. On the back of the plate, my side of the plate, was stenciled "SUB-NINE".

"Move up." I told them, leaving the door behind and moving up.

The spiral wound around about six times before I caught sight of the next access point.

This one was missing the plate. The stench of rotting meat was billowing in from the missing plate, and I suppressed an urge to retch. In between me and the landing were stacks of cardboard boxes, soggy and foul smelling, broken chairs, a mattress, and unidentifiable debris.

Cursing, I set to work, and cleared it out fairly quickly, throwing the pieces over the railing and into the gap between the spirals to fall into the depths.

When my flashlight panned over the opening, I could see the hallway beyond. The walls were smeared with primitive designs in either shit or blood, or maybe something that their shamans or wise-men brewed. Crude mushroom clouds. Crying small stick figures holding onto the hands of larger crying stick figures. Crying little stick figures with dead stick figure dogs.

The floor was covered with a thick blackish looking gunk.

That wasn't what held my attention though.

My light must have alerted them, or maybe my big clomping clown feet as I moved up the spiral steps.

There were six of them, crouched down and waiting, and as soon as I reached the landing and turned, then exploded into motion, charging at me. One knocked me off balance, knocking my rifle out of the way, and another grabbed my arm with both hands and bit deep into my forearm, the wrenching on my arm making my shoulder scream in agony as the arm was pushed past the max rotation I could do after the last surgery. Something inside my shoulder gave with a weird tearing and popping feeling, and my whole arm went numb, my rifle dropping from my hand. Another went low, wrapping his arms around my low while still another went for my left arm.

I managed to get my arm out of the way, to my waist, and pull my knife free as I let myself be shoved against the railing, setting my feet as soon as my back hit.

"Sergeant!" Someone, maybe Shads, yelled from down at the last landing.

I could see more in the hallway as I drove the knife into the back of the one that had me around the waist, the one trying to lift me up and throw me over the railing. The one with my arm was wrenching at it, like he was trying to take it off at the shoulder joint, and I could feel the burn from where he was biting me through my BDU's. One was grabbing at my leg, trying to lift it up, and the one that had initially hit me had a hold on my rifle, trying to pull the sling over his buddy's head.

"I'M THE FIFTY FOOT ANT AND THIS HERE'S MY FUCKING STAIRWELL!" I bellowed as the one at my waist screamed and let go. He collapsed into his friend, and I pivoted at the waist and stabbed the guy holding onto my arm twice under the bottom of the right side of his rib cage. Blackish blood poured out of his mouth as he collapsed, and the one tugging at my rifle looked at me with wide eyes.

My legs were free, and I stepped sideways into the one still holding onto my rifle, slamming the knife up under his sternum and twisting it before kneeing him off the knife.

My arm fell to my side, and my rifle fell down the steps. The tingling changed, and the way it ground inside let me know it was dislocated again.

Two more came at me, I kicked the first in the gut, drove my knife into the second and brought my knee up into the gut of the one I'd just stabbed before pivoting to let him fall off of the knife. The one leaning forward and retching I stabbed in his left, making sure I didn't hit the shoulder blade and hitting just to his left of his spine.

He dropped off the knife.

The one that had grabbed my leg and tried to fling me over the railing had managed to push his buddy off, and I stepped forward and kicked him under the chin as hard as I could. Dead or not, he dropped, and I turned as two more came through the doorway. I dodged the first one and stepped into the second one, letting him impale himself on the knife and fall away. The other one had hit the railing, and when I turned around, he was holding onto the railing and trying to keep from overbalancing.

I punched him in the back of the head and he flipped forward, vanishing into the darkness with a wailing scream.

When I spun around, knife up and ready, the entry was empty.

Donaldson came running up the stairs, his rifle out, and stopped on the landing I was on, staring at the wall my light was shining on.

At our feet, one of them groaned and twitched, and I stepped forward and stomped on his head with everything I had.

"Grab my wrist." I told him, managing to flop my arm around.

"Roger." He said, letting go of his weapon and grabbing my wrist with both hands. He pulled it up, straight out, and I groaned, feeling more sweat cover me. I looped my other arm around the railing.

"Do it." I told him. He nodded.

"On three." He told me. I nodded at him, sweating, watching the opening.

"One..." He suddenly yanked, and the joint popped back into place with a loud snapping noise.

It felt like there was a rock stuck in there, but I could move my fingers and move my arm again.

"Get up here, hurry up!" Donaldson yelled as I sagged against the railing in relief. The stairs shook as the other men quickly moved up them. Donaldson threw the bodies back into the hallway, watching the opening the whole time.

I just leaned against the railing, waiting for the shakes to pass.

Finally the others were up on the landing, Kincaid had two weapons in his hands, and I recognized my rifle.

"You dropped this." He told me, grinning behind the face shield.

"What's so goddamn funny?" I asked him, waving at them to follow me as I moved up the next set of spirals.

"Do you remember what you yelled?" He asked, chuckling. Shads laughed.

"No. Why?" The stairs were stained black, and crude drawings were on the walls that made no sense. Most of them were spirals, squares, mushroom clouds, crude cars, what I thought was the moon, and a few were small crying stick figures moving into a cave with angry looking stick figures pointing at the cave.

What they might mean made me sick to my stomach.

"So, when you referred to yourself as the 'fifty foot ant', are you fifty feet high or fifty feet long?" Kincaid asked, laughing.

"Or do you have fifty feet?" Shads asked, snickering. "How much do you spend on boots, Sergeant?"

"Shut the fuck up." I said, feeling my ears redden.

"Seriously? Your nickname is the fifty foot ant?" Donaldson asked, and I could tell he was barely able to keep from laughing.

"It's a long fucking story." I told them.

"When we get back, you're fucking telling it." Kincaid laughed. "I gotta hear how you ended up with that fucking name."

"So, was like that your call sign during Desert Storm?" Shads asked, and all of them except Wilkins burst out laughing.

"Oh shut up." I told them. "Another access point's coming."

This one was blown open too, but nobody rushed us as we moved past.

"Fifty foot ant, seriously?" Kincaid chuckled.

They kept poking fun at me as moved through the darkness of the shaft. After three levels, the panels weren't blown open. The last one, we had to clear away wreckage that someone had piled on the stairs as if to block them.

"Now what, Sergeant Ant." Kincaid asked. He didn't use my name, but actually 'ant' when he said it.

"I'll blow off the panel, and we'll go back, smartass." I told him. He was panting and moving slower, the long climb in the armored suit with the flamethrower on his back really taking it out of him. We'd had to stop longer for everyone to rest, setting Natchez down on the steel grates while everyone sat down.

He'd started to come around once, and Shads popped him full of more morphine.

It took a few moments to trace the wires and find out where to stick the clacker in. There was one above the port, which should have made it obvious. When Donaldson saw it, he grabbed it and dropped it in his pocket.

"Fire in the hole." I called out, then snapped the clacker. There was a sharp crack that echoed and reechoed through the shaft, and the steel plate popped off, falling into the hallway on the other side with a loud clatter.

Blessed light streamed in. The power was on, at least up on this level. It was almost a religious experience seeing it.

I moved up through the smoke, waving my hand in front of my face and coughing, and stepped into the hallway.

Brushed steel, and instantly recognizable.

We were on the top floor, at the elevators just outside the living quarters area, between living quarters and the administration offices.

"Grab Natchez, double time it." I told them. I knew where to go.

We hurried as fast as we could, Shads slinging Natchez over his shoulders, Kincaid shuffling along in his armored suit holding onto his flamethrower, Wilkins rearmed with his own weapon and carrying Natchez's gear along with his.

I was staggering by the time we hit the entrance to the Officer's Quarters, running on adrenaline and stubborness.

"Hurry up, Ant." Bomber said while I punched in the code as fast as I could.

"I'm hurrying, Bomber." I told him.

"Those CIA goons are right behind you." He warned me.

"Kincaid, check our six, if you see those CIA assholes, burn them down." I told him.

"With pleasure, Sergeant." He replied, moving to the back.

The door thumped, and began to raise.

"Someone's back there, they took off running away when I popped my baby up." Kincaid told me. I could hear the pressurized hiss from the flamethrower underlying his words. "I think they're back at the intersection."

When the door raised up there were two of the Major's men, Meatheads I hadn't bothered numbering or naming, standing there pointing rifles at us.

"Thank God. We thought you guys were dead." One of them said.

"Major! Sergeant Ant and the others are back!" The other yelled.

"Out of the way, jackasses, I've got wounded." Shads said, pushing by me.

When the men saw Natchez, they exclaimed loudly, both asking if he was alive, what had happened, what was going on.

"Hurry up!" I said, waving everyone in.

Kincaid was backing up, flames dripping from the end of the muzzle. The barrel was obviously shot. We'd either have to find an armory that had a new one, or I'd have to figure something out, or Kincaid would have to abandon his baby.

When he reached us, I hit the bar and the door started sliding shut.

Three shots rang out from down the corridor we'd just left.

As the door slid shut, Kincaid went down on his knees.