He turned to the Russian woman. She was already on her knees, trying to turn the circular handle on a three-feet square hatch on the superstructure roof. Banks went to join her.
“We should be able to get down to the control room from here,” she said. “But I doubt it’s been opened for years; it’s either locked or too stiff to open.”
He bent to help.
“Here they come,” Mac shouted.
Banks pushed his earplugs deep into his ears as the shooting started and the air filled with the crack and boom of rifle fire.
The hatch opening was stuck hard and even with the two of them pulling, it only moved an inch.
“Need a hand here,” Banks shouted.
Mac shouted back.
“I’m a wee bit busy, Cap. I could use a hand myself.”
Banks got his rifle in hand and went to Mac’s side. He was still at the top of the stairs. The way they had come up was now a roiling, seething mass of the creatures, mostly the smaller ones, coming in a wave and falling backward on the steps almost as quickly as they climbed them. One, larger, horse-sized beast heaved itself slowly upward among the others and was only one level below Mac’s feet. Banks remembered the feeding behavior they’d seen both at the post office and down on the deck.
“Get the big fucker,” Banks shouted. “Give the rest of them something to eat.”
Mac saw his ploy straight away and between the two of them, they shot the whole front of the large beast’s face away and it fell forward, blocking the passage of the smaller ones from behind. Those passed it immediately turned on it and started to rip it apart in frenzy as they ate.
“The more we put down, the more food they’ll have,” Banks shouted. “Slow them down as much as you can until we can get the bloody hatch open.”
He went to check on the others. McCally had already moved away from his rail to help the others; there were no beasts on the southern side of the superstructure. Banks checked over the side, hoping for an escape route, but it was too far to drop down. If they had ropes, they might have chanced rappelling.
But if wishes were horses, we’d all be eating steak.
Apart from the stairs, the focus of the attack of the beasts came from the main forward deck. The rest of the squad stood at the rail overlooking the deck, firing downward to where a host of the creatures tried to clamber and climb over each other to reach them. Some were managing to get a grip on the structure itself and even with three guns, the squad struggled to stop the beasts reaching the top rail. Banks joined them and told them what he’d told Mac.
“Shoot the big buggers first; give the others something to eat.”
They strafed the largest beasts within range, always aiming for the head.
“Shoot the antennae,” the Russian woman shouted. “They’re blind without them.”
“You heard the lady,” Banks called out. “Put these buggers down.”
The downside of aiming for the larger of the beasts meant the small ones gained more of a foothold and several scurried quickly up the side of the superstructure. One reached the rail and tried to clamber over; Mac sent it back down with a punch to its belly.
“Don’t touch them if you don’t have to,” Banks shouted. “Remember what happened to Nolan.”
He pulled Hynd aside.
“Give the lady a gun; we need more strength on the bloody hatch.”
Hynd had Nolan’s weapon slung over his back. He removed it and handed it over. The Russian took the weapon without a complaint, checked the mag, then stood at the rail next to Mac. Banks was glad to see she knew how to handle herself; it saved hassle he didn’t need right then.
He bent beside Hynd and both of them put their weight into trying to turn the hatch wheel. It began to give with a screech, loud even above the noise of the gunfire.
McCally had to step back to reload; one of the beasts took the opportunity to scurry up and over the railing. Briggs put it down with a burst but he had taken his eye from the main body of them and two more scurried up to the top. The woman, Svetlanova, blew the head off the first and Mac took the second, by which time McCally had reloaded and rejoined the fray. But the beasts were now much nearer the top of the superstructure now and all four of the defenders had to step back as more came up to the rim of the rail.
“The antennae. Shoot the antennae,” the woman shouted again.
The sound of gunfire rang and echoed all around as Banks and Hynd strained at the hatch opening.
“Put your back into it, Cap,” Hynd shouted. “It’s coming.”
The wheel turned, slowly, too slowly; the beasts were now scurrying and clambering at the top rail and even the combined power of four rifles wouldn’t keep them at bay for long. Parts of the beasts flew as the concentrated fire blew antennae, limbs, and shells to pieces and the roar of gunfire was deafening, even with the earplugs tight in Banks’ ears.
But the wheel kept turning, even as the rest of the squad had to take another step back from the rail. All four of them stood in a line only a yard from the hatchway. Finally, the wheel gave all the way and Hynd was able to lift the hatch; just in time as the beasts poured over the rail in numbers.
“Back to me,” Banks shouted. “Ladies first.”
Hynd helped Svetlanova drop through the hatch, then all five of the men stood in the line, pumping rounds into the beasts, sending them dancing and capering on top of the rail as the bullets strafed them.
We can’t keep this up for long. Time to go.
“McCally, you’re up next. Get below.”
The young Scot backed away, still firing until the last moment before he too dropped down the hatch.
“Sarge, you next. Make sure it’s all clear below. We’re right behind you.”
The sergeant fired off a volley until his weapon went dry, then dropped away through the hatch. The three of them remaining were now sorely pressed to keep the beasts at bay.
“Briggs. You’re up,” Banks said but the man either didn’t hear or was too involved in the battle to pay attention. He stepped, not backward but forward as one of the larger beasts came up to the rail with its antennae waving high above them, front limbs already reaching toward the men. Briggs was shouting now, incoherent cursing as he fired, not at the beast’s head but directly into its belly. A blue shimmer rose up but the bullets did not affect the beast. It fell forward off the rail and its front talons raked across Briggs’ chest, sliced and sliced again. The top half of the man’s body came apart like ripped tissue paper.
“Get the fuck down the hole, Cap,” Mac shouted. “That’s an order.”
As he was closer, by a step, Banks knew to hesitate might mean the death of both of them. He went down the hatch as fast as he could manage, falling more than stepping, six short steps down a ladder. Above him, Mac emptied his weapon and lunged into the hatch. Banks saw the Glaswegian reach to pull the hatch shut, saw a long limb cut, slice, across Mac’s left arm, then the hatch slammed closed, the deafening clang echoing for seconds around them.
- 10 -
It had all happened so fast Svetlanova had barely had time to think. From the sudden death of the Irishman, meeting the British team outside the engine room, to the battle on the top of the superstructure and now, back in the control room, it had all happened in a blur of movement and a roar of sound and flying bullets. Now her ears rang, like church bells, too close, inside her skull and she wondered if she might not be permanently deaf.
The thinner man, Hynd the captain had called him, bundled her, first out of the small room below the hatch, then down a spiral staircase to the control room. He took one look at what was left of Nolan in the chair then wheeled the body, chair and all, through to the small scullery and closed the door on it. He couldn’t disguise the mess on the floor; green goop, hardening, almost resinous, the last remains of the man she’d spoken to less than half an hour before.