The wall began to disfigure, then, showing the outlines of other demons trying to force their way through, like impressions coming through a sheet of clay, howling and roaring and chattering as they struggled with the nano material.
“There’s too many,” Reaper said.
Sarge nodded in grim acknowledgment. Too many of the half-men, the transfigured, forcing through at once would break the nanowall’s interior organization down, interfere with intercommunication between the microscopic machines that composed it. The wall would reach a certain level of entropy and collapse. The creatures roared in triumph as they sensed they were breaking through…
Sarge laid the machine gun aside, and swung the BFG around, got a good hold on its grips, aiming it at the wall. This was the place for the Big Fucking Gun — where he could see where to focus it, and the others were safely behind him.
The nanowall was bulging in toward them now, rippling, more and more of the demonic forms pushing through, clawed hands, taloned paws…half a snarling face, a fierce rolling eye.
“It’s not holding!” Sam blurted, seeing more nightmare faces pressing through. It was seconds from breaking down.
“Here they come,” Sarge said, matter-of-factly.
“Oh man,” Duke said, disgusted — Reaper could tell he was reacting to something besides the wall’s breaking down.
They turned to see that Duke was standing on a grate in the floor — and raw, skinless, ropy arms had bent the grate’s bars and reached through to grasp Duke firmly by the ankles.
There was a moment of shock as the implications came home to them.
“Duke,” Sam said, trying to aim her gun at the arms gripping his ankles. “Hold still!”
Duke smiled sadly — all resignation, and then the creature jerked one of his feet through the grate, something down there chattering with wordless glee. Duke quivered with pain — trying to pull free but too weak from his wound to do so.
In two seconds, before they could try to help him, the rest of Duke was pulled sickeningly down, his mouth working soundlessly to express a pain that was beyond screaming as his body was forced through the grate with a repellent sound of flesh bursting wetly, sliced into segments as it went. Stopping briefly at his chest — Duke giving everyone a last, long, imploring look…
Until with a final vicious tug he was pulled the rest of the way through the grate — he exploded into bloody fragments and Sam, watching in horror, bit down so hard on her fist that her own blood flowed.
Sam was wracked with silent sobs. Reaper went to her, pulled her away from the grate — which was mucky with torn flesh, bone splinters, and part of a face, still trembling — and pushed her into a corner, hugging her as he brought her there, giving her shoulder a commiserating squeeze as he forced her back into the closest thing he could find to safety in the room. It was all he could do for her, just then.
Sarge’s expression was inscrutable except for a bitter determination in his eyes as he turned to the weakening nanowall, raising the BFG.
“Bring it on,” he growled, stepping close to the nanowall to give the powerful weapon full play. Electrical arcs crackled the air around him, as if expressing his checked fury, and more limbs flailed through the barrier.
Then he looked down to see a monstrous arm sweeping from the nanowall, its taloned paw getting a vise grip on Sarge’s leg — and yanking him violently back into the weakening wall.
“No!” Sarge yelled, dropping the BFG as he was jerked off his feet, twisting his whole body so he was spun about as he fell, slamming him onto his face.
Instinctively — despite the fact that he’d been thinking he might have to kill Sarge — Reaper ran to him, hunkering to grab his body armor. He pulled with all his strength, trying to drag Sarge back from the wall. But the genetic demon, pulling from the other side, was far stronger than Reaper. Sarge slipped farther into the wall.
They needed Sarge to fight these things — even if it was only putting the conflict with him off — and now they were losing him.
Sam ran up and joined Reaper, helping him pull. They strained, groaning with the effort, feeling like their joints were going to pull apart. Sarge helped with his elbows, but they only managed to slow him a bit — he was still being inexorably pulled through the wall, into a room filled with demonic creatures who lived only to kill him — or make him one of their own.
Sarge grabbed at the BFG, managed to get hold of its strap — as he was pulled another fourteen inches into the wall.
“Ahhhhh! Motherfucker!” he roared, as he felt himself losing ground — his voice mingling almost indistinguishably from the roars of the man-beasts on the other side of the wall.
Another violent tug and Sarge was in the wall up to his waist. Sarge got a better grip on the BFG as Reaper and Sam strained to pull him back, sweat running down his face, down his neck, sticking his clothing to his skin…
Reaper could feel it then — he was losing his grip on Sarge, and the thing on the other side was giving one last mighty heave. Sarge was about to go.
“I’m not supposed to die yet…” Sarge said, between gritted teeth.
And then he vanished, pulled entirely through the nanowall.
Reaper and Sam backpedaled, falling in reaction, panting for air.
Sarge was…just gone. So were the shapes of the genetic demons, for the moment — the wall had quieted, a mysterious silence reigned, and the penetrating limbs had withdrawn.
Maybe they were all busy tearing pieces off of Sarge. Reaper was sorry he’d let Sarge hold on to the BFG once the genetic demons had grabbed him.
“Are you okay?” Sam asked, hoarsely.
Reaper looked at his sister, propped on an elbow beside him — she looked lost, haggard. But her eyes focused as she noticed his raked arm.
“We have to go now…” Reaper said.
“You’re hurt,” she said.
“…we have to go now…” he repeated, helping her up, guiding her away from the wall. He bent to scoop up a satchel Sarge had brought in — it clanked with various kinds of ammo — and headed toward the accidental barricade blocking the way out.
It seemed to him that they could get through the debris if they just pulled some stuff out of the way. And if they could do it without making the ceiling collapse in on them, then…
Reaper got wearily up, began dismantling the barricade, working alone, letting Sam rest. Now and then glancing at the nanowall, half-expecting it to be breached again.
Sam glanced at the place where Duke had been dragged down to his death — then looked away. But it was still there: she was staring into space, eyes wide, as if seeing his death over and over in her mind…
Reaper kept working on the barricade.
After a while, seeing him work on the debris, she started to help him. The effort, however short-term its value, seemed to give her hope and she worked with concentration.
In a few minutes they were through — only to find themselves trapped, yet again, in a farther room.
Eighteen
REAPER AND SAM were hiding out in another infirmary room. Sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, resting. They could hear the genetic demons moving about in the air ducts, roaring and chattering in the corridors beyond this temporary refuge.
How long before they were up to their asses in monsters? Reaper wondered. It sounded like they were getting closer and closer.
Reflexively brushing her hair back into some semblance of order with a shaking hand, Sam asked it out loud. “How long?”
Reaper shrugged. “Minutes.”
They didn’t have many options. But he knew he couldn’t let these monsters get out of the compound. They’d spread their sickness to the whole world…