“Carpenter and Donovan, stay here and keep cover,” he ordered. “Martinez, with me. Up center.” Pierce shouldered his rifle and lowered himself to the dusty floor. He was immediately disgusted.
The others snapped into action. The two men hustled in opposite directions. They were relieved they hadn’t been chosen to climb under the rat’s nest.
Martinez wasn’t so lucky. She followed Pierce like a good soldier, silently cursing her other two comrades as they escaped. Before ducking down, Martinez took one last look back at the long tunnel they had just come from. I just want to get out of here. She lowered her body into the uninviting environment and followed directly behind Pierce. Her palms pressed into the dirt and dust covering the concrete floor, and Pierce’s boots were in her face.
Pierce muscled his way about thirty feet into the space that was less than two feet wide. His knees were soaking wet. The pipes above his head dripped from condensation. The room was humid — a mix of the trapped heat from the desert above and the coolness brought on by the broken pipe. Pierce’s head veered upward from the floor. That goddamned pipe is taking forever to get to. They had only been crawling for a moment, but it felt like hours. The passageway was treacherous and slow. He struggled to keep from being caught up on various low-hanging objects as they made their way through.
The room seemed to open up in the center, and Pierce and Martinez fell out from under the crawl space of pipes. They had finally reached a point where they were able to stand. Pierce cast an eye over his surroundings, taking in the new environment. Some type of airflow line had ruptured. Pierce quickly ran his hand across the rusty surface before ducking below for a better look. A small, narrow crack along the bottom edge was an indication of sabotage. These pipes were four inches thick. The precision of the gash was representative of a laser or diamond cutting tool. He reached up to a walkie-talkie transmitter clipped to his beige flak vest.
“S-one. Over,” he squawked.
A frenzy of radio static proceeded.
“South two,” a distant voice replied.
Pierce looked around with hesitation. “Found the pressure leak. We’re on level three. Looks like someone’s been here. Over.”
“Copy. Response units have been notified. Return for debrief. Watch yourselves. Over,” the radio voice replied.
Pierce nodded to Martinez. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he whispered.
She couldn’t have agreed more.
“Copy, Base Command. En route,” he concluded and released his radio.
Off in the distance, a heavy door slammed. The noise carried through the facility like a gunshot. Donovan and Carpenter rubbernecked toward the hallway. The men could hardly contain their concern. No one else was supposed to be down there. Donovan stuck his head through the pipe and whistled back to Pierce. “You hear that, Sarge?”
“Yeah. Don’t just stand there,” Peirce replied.
He motioned to the man to check it out. Donovan reluctantly snapped to the order and pulled back. Pierce ducked down to begin the long journey back.
Martinez sighed with a hint of relief. Maybe we’re safer here.
Donovan moved slowly from the area back down the long corridor. He swung his rifle forward and readied it to fire. His hands twitched with the nervousness of a rookie. He had never experienced combat. He was a glorified security guard — a rank up from a normal air force cop but slightly less respected. At least regular military cops had seen action and fought crime. The security police units at Area 51 had little to do most times other than scaring off curious tourists and amateur UFO hunters. But today was different. Donovan and the others were entering into no-man’s-land.
Another hallway opened up as Donovan stepped closer toward the direction of the sound. The echo vanished. He had little to go on, yet he moved away from the others.
An open door led into a small maintenance closet. The room inside was dark. Donovan moved against the wall and leaned into the threshold. It was hard to see inside. He looked back at Carpenter. He was still covering Pierce and Martinez. This sucks. His mind raced. He took a deep breath and entered the room.
Two large shelves were on both sides of the room. Rusty tools and fifty years of cobwebs and dust cluttered them. An object crashed to the floor in the back of the room. Donovan jumped at the noise. It sounded as if something had fallen from the shelf. He placed his rifle up over his shoulder and mounted the sight with one eye. He stepped forward, aiming the barrel of his gun toward the corner.
Something crossed behind him in a blur. He kept his scope on the corner, unaware of the movement behind him. The corner of the room seemed clear, yet he was still suspicious. He quickly pivoted and started to make his way back to the door. As he cleared the corner of the shelf to his left, something rushed in and tackled him to the ground. His gun discharged. The dark room lit up like a fireworks show. The large magazine emptied. This unleashed a spectacular hell of fire and flashes through the tight space. Bullets flew and ripped through concrete and shelving.
Carpenter heard the sound of ammunition fire from outside. He raced toward the door. He looked around in a frenzy as he skidded into the threshold of the room. There was no sign of Donovan. He turned back down the hallway. His legs buckled with the sensation of heaviness. Within a flash, his body was lifted up from the floor and tossed up toward the ceiling. His body then slammed into the walls back and forth like a rag doll. Whatever had ahold of him slung him about with little effort. Screams of death echoed through the cavernous space.
Pierce and Martinez had just climbed out of the rat’s nest and rolled into the hallway when Carpenter’s screams traveled back to them. Martinez took cover against the wall. Pierce hunched down next to a large pipe that ran down the corridor. They held steady for a moment. The hallway was clear — no sign of either man. Pierce flashed a look toward the visibly shaken Martinez.
He motioned with a look, suggesting her to advance first. It was the look he was famous for. Risk-taking wasn’t an asset on his résumé. His rank afforded him the ability to make the burden of risk someone else’s problem. Ryan Pierce was known for making his subordinates do his dirty work. Martinez was visibly apprehensive. Pierce shooed her on with an irritated scowl.
Martinez reluctantly shook her head and started her cautious charge down the corridor. Pierce aimed his rifle, offering her cover from the safety of his position. Martinez quickly slid into the adjoining hallway. The coast seemed clear. She carefully gravitated toward the end of the corridor. It spilled out into another tunnel. She glanced back toward the place she had started. The area was quiet. She stopped and turned back around, holding a look of indifference. A twitch of movement caught her attention down the hallway before her. She snapped her weapon up and took aim. Her eyes opened wide with discovery.
Standing before her were several extraterrestrial creatures. They were beaming back toward her with aggression. Their bodies were vaguely humanlike, yet they appeared much different in size and form. Their eyes were black and elongated, and they ran down from their foreheads to their cheekbones. Their skin was leathery and gray. They stooped over with a hunchback lean. Their arms dangled downward like apes. At around eight feet tall, they towered over Martinez.
Oh shit! Her body winced at the sight. She started slowly shuffling backward, trying to stay calm and not to stumble. She aimed her rifle at the creatures as they slowly moved in toward her. She was outnumbered and was backing herself into a wall. Through her shortness of breath, she worried it was going to be her last. She was trembling. Before her finger could squeeze the trigger of her rifle, the band of creatures made the attack. They raced toward her, ripping her down to the floor like a pack of wolves.