A couple of the scientists began to scream, adding to the din.
O’Neil planted a boot into the monster’s ribs and knocked it backward. He swung his rifle up and sent a quick burst of rounds chiseling through its sternum. The monster collapsed backward, fingers twitching.
“That’s Bao!” one of the scientists cried.
Van rushed to Tate’s side as O’Neil scoped the hall, making sure no other creatures would come charging out.
“You okay?” Van asked, helping the man to his feet. The front of Tate’s uniform and vest were in tatters.
The gunfire was growing more desperate.
“Changing!” McLean yelled.
Tate brushed himself up, then lifted his rifle again. “I’ll live.”
“He got attacked,” the scientist that ran said. “He’s going to turn!”
O’Neil feared that the researcher was right. That if Tate had been scratched, that would be it for him. O’Neil would’ve failed—and the newest member of their team would be gone.
If that damn scientist hadn’t run, if he hadn’t freaked out, then Tate probably wouldn’t have been ambushed. The guy was new to Six, but he wasn’t new to the SEALs. He deserved better than to be taken out because some damn egghead couldn’t keep his cool
But the infection that would turn Tate into a Skull wasn’t immediate. The guy had days, maybe hours before he would turn. Tate’s metamorphosis was a curse waiting for them in the future. It wasn’t a problem now.
At least, not yet.
Those words rang through his head again.
Survive the present.
“Keep moving!” O’Neil said as two of the scientists stared at the corpse of their former colleague, their eyes wide with shock.
He and Tate made it all the way to the door to the stairwell. Hostiles continued to pour in behind them, growling and snapping, shrieking and clawing at the floor, racing to make it past the barrage of gunfire from Alpha.
“They’re gaining!” Stuart yelled over the din.
With the amount of lead the team was pouring down the corridor, O’Neil wondered just how much ammunition they would have left as they waited for the chopper.
He hoped it would be enough, but the ungodly voices of the damned only grew the more of them Alpha dispatched.
As soon as they reached the door to the stairwell, Tate pushed it open, O’Neil covering him. The click of talons against stairs echoed up from below. Beasts raced up from the lower levels, jostling with each other to be the first up the stairs toward prey. O’Neil fired into the monsters leading the pack, ending two of them with shots that tore into their chests. Loeb and Van provided more suppressing fire as Tate continued to clear the stairwell leading upward.
“Clear!” Tate called.
The beasts on the floors below poured over the bodies of their dead brethren, climbing over each other up the stairs. Their shrieks and the scratch of their claws against the concrete walls and metal stairs rose in a deafening cacophony that filled O’Neil’s veins with another blast of gut-churning adrenaline.
“Keep moving,” Reynolds said, straining to be heard over the clamor. The last of his team, McLean, made it through the door, slamming it shut behind them.
O’Neil and Tate lunged up the stairs. Made it to the door leading to the roof, then pushed it open. They were met with a storm of hungry voices calling into the humid night.
Stuart and Henderson made it out of the stairwell with the scientists. McLean threw the door shut behind him, the lock clicking. That meager clink seemed so weak.
The Skulls weren’t smart enough to use a door handle, but with the number of beasts that O’Neil had seen chasing them down the hall, he didn’t think it really mattered. They were just as liable to push the door out from its frame through sheer power of will alone.
Not more than ten seconds after McLean had slammed that door shut, the first Skull reached it. The scrape of its claws against the door and the thumps as it threw itself at the metal resonated out. Reynolds had Stuart and Henderson brace the door against the assault. More and more of the creatures scratched and howled from behind it. Stuart and Henderson grunted, cursing, as they pushed back at the door, struggling to keep the Skulls from breaking through.
O’Neil searched the sky, looking for their bird. Should have been only a minute or so away now. He thought he could even hear the thump of the rotors. Hard to tell with the sounds of the beasts.
“We need help!” Stuart called.
McLean joined them, and O’Neil sent Loeb, too. The four of them pushed against the shaking door, the screeches of the beasts escaping each time they managed to push the SEALs back from the door even just an inch.
The five researchers huddled together, shivering, all as gaunt and weak-looking as the man that O’Neil had killed in that conference room.
That bird better get here soon.
O’Neil surveyed the rest of the flat roof, looking for any sign of creatures rushing toward them.
So far, the roof was empty. They just needed to hold out for a bit longer. Keep the beasts from busting out of the stairwell.
“Alpha, Bravo, you got movers climbing up the building now!” Delta’s lead called. “They’ll be on your position in twenty seconds!”
O’Neil clenched his jaw.
Soon enough, the roof wouldn’t be so empty.
-6-
“Delta, Charlie, open fire!” Reynolds called back from the middle of the roof.
O’Neil saw the IR lasers piercing the black from the other SEALs’ position across the street at the parking garage.
A second later sparks of suppressed gunfire burst from their position. The bullets cracked into the side of the research building, followed by the smack of bodies against concrete.
“Tate, take the southwest corner,” O’Neil cried. “Van, southeast!”
O’Neil took the northeast corner of the roof, the farthest point from where Delta and Charlie were located. The thrum of the helicopter beat louder. It was getting closer, but he feared it might not arrive in time.
Might not make it before the Skulls flooded over the roof.
He took a knee, willing his breathing to slow. Clenched his jaw.
Convinced himself it didn’t matter when the chopper arrived. He had to focus on survival.
Those Skulls would pay for every inch they tried to take from him. He would rather die than let them take his team.
The first beast emerged over the lip of the roof, its clawed hands dragging its thick, armored body up.
O’Neil aimed at the beast, his laser tracing over the Skull’s chest as the monster pushed itself up. Saliva roped off its hooked fangs, its maw cranked open in a terrifying shriek. With a squeeze of his trigger, O’Neil painted the creature in rounds, sending it tumbling backward off the roof.
His next target rose close to where the first had. It appeared to have once been a woman. Long, knotted hair wrapped around the bony horns and growths pushing up from its head. Another squeeze of the trigger, and it shrieked, falling away from the roof.
He heard the chatter of his teammates’ weapons as their rifles struck out against their enemies in a storm of miniature lightning strikes. But he focused down his lane. Each man was responsible for the space in front of them, for their own individual zones as the creatures suicidally threw themselves onto the roof.
The drone continued to blast its IR light across the roof, illuminating the combat zone. Creature after creature emerged over the edge of the roof. Each appeared in various stages of transformation, their bodies messes of bony plates and claws and crowns of twisted horns. Some with shredded remnants of clothes, others nothing but muscle, flesh, and bone.