“The Japanese have one down to, oh, the size of a container car or so,” Weaver said, yawning again. “Maybe we can borrow it. But the rest makes sense. If it’s degrading into the universe it’s probably going to increase the charge of each of the released particles. That means you get small gates at first and larger ones as it continues to degrade. Or maybe they’ll go further and further away. And the first gates that would open would be nearby. Finally things are starting to make sense.”
Sanson walked over and slapped a pistol into the scientist’s empty hand.
“You know how to use one of those?” Sanson asked.
“Point and click?” Weaver said, looking puzzled.
“Yeah, more or less.” The SEAL laughed. “Round up the spout, cocked, not on safe. Touch the trigger and it fires. Just remember to point it at the bad guys.”
“Look, one of the SEALs just handed me a pistol,” Weaver said, keeping his finger away from the trigger. “I think that’s a bad sign. We’ll talk about this later, okay?”
“Okay,” Garcia said. “Decaying, releasing particles, particles open gates.”
“Something like that. And increasing charge, larger gates or further away as time goes by.” Tuffy was small. Small gate? But large enough to take Mimi? The front door burst open and one of the smaller monsters came into the room, howling its terrible cry. Sanson turned and fired a burst that bounced off the armor but as it turned towards the SEAL Weaver lined up the pistol on it and shot. The first round was high, kicking dust out of the wall, but he lowered the pistol slightly and was rewarded with a green blotch on the second round. Two more bullets into it, and one in the floor, and it was kicking and twitching on the ground, spilling green ichor into the blue rug.
“Well, gotta go,” Weaver said.
“Doc…”
“See you later, Garcia.”
Another of the beasts sprang into the room and Weaver shot at it, missing, then two more times and hit. The second round hit it in the hindquarters and its back legs dropped, limp. But it continued to crawl forward on its front legs and his next two rounds missed, poking holes in the far wall and shattering a picture of a sailboat against the backdrop of a tropical island. That was his last round and the slide of the H K locked back on the empty magazine.
“I think I’m out of bullets,” he yelled, standing up and stepping back over the couch.
“Here!” Sanson yelled, tossing a magazine through the air.
Weaver caught it but had no idea what to do with it. However, he was an engineer; it should be easy enough to figure out. The thing had crawled up to him and he backed away, into the room, hoping to draw it away from the two SEALs as he attempted to determine how to reload. Let’s see, two levers on the handle of the gun, one blocked by the slide. Lever near the trigger. He fiddled with the lever and was rewarded by having the empty magazine drop out onto the floor. Point bullets forward, insert magazine. Eureka! But the slide didn’t go forward and pulling the trigger didn’t work. He grabbed the slide and pulled back and was again rewarded by having it slide forward. By this time the thing had nearly crawled up to him again and he jumped backwards then pointed the gun at it and shot several times.
“Watch it!” Miller snarled as one of the rounds hammered into his body armor. “Save your rounds!”
“Hey, I got it, didn’t I?” Weaver asked as his phone rang.
“William Weaver,” he said, holding the smoking barrel of the pistol upwards where he wouldn’t tend to shoot one of the SEALs.
“This is the NSA, we’re watching the news, where are you?”
“In the Edderbrook house,” he replied. “I think we’re sort of cut off.”
“Jesus! Get out of there!”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” he noted as another of the damned things just strolled in the door. He aimed carefully this time and managed to hit it on the first shot. But the round only ticked it off and it turned and charged him.
“Hold please,” he said, jumping to the back of the couch and over and then coming up with the pistol and shooting it in the back as it tried to make the turn. One of the bullets must have hit its spine because its back legs went out just like the other one. He aimed carefully and fired rounds into its neck until it stopped moving. He realized he’d gotten out of control when the slide locked back again. “I’m out of bullets again!” he yelled. “I’m sorry, I’m a little busy at the moment. Could we talk later?”
“Sure,” the NSA said, bemusedly.
“I told Garcia what I think is going on, based on the evidence,” he said, catching another magazine from Sanson and missing the toss from Miller. He reloaded and picked up the magazine he’d missed as he talked. Multi-tasking, that’s the key.
“We’ll talk later,” the NSA said.
“Yeah, later,” he replied as two more came through the door and one crashed through a window. “Guys! I don’t think I can hold them this time!”
Sanson turned and shot the one under the window as Miller fired and killed one of the ones by the door. But that had emptied his belt and it was left for Weaver to finish off the last.
“Up the stairs,” Miller said, pushing the scientist ahead of him.
At the top of the stairs, though, was a large barricade constructed from a bed.
“Hey!” Miller yelled. “Let us through!”
“Catch,” a voice said from the other side of the barricade and a knotted rope came flying through the air.
The command master chief started to hand it to the physicist and then stopped, taking the pistol and manipulating a lever. “Safety.”
“Right,” Weaver said. “Thanks for the tip.” He dropped his cell phone in one pocket and tucked the pistol in the other then climbed up the rope, with a push from the chief, and tumbled to the floor on the top landing.
The two SEALs followed him up the barricade and then spread out through the top floors.
“VanGelder,” a voice said behind him. “Lake County SWAT. Who are you?”
Weaver tilted his head backwards and looked up at a blond mountain of a man.
“Doctor William Weaver,” he answered. “I’m a physicist studying the gates.”
“Come to any conclusions?” VanGelder asked.
“Yes, I wish Ray Chen had never been born,” Weaver said.
VanGelder chuckled and pointed at the pistol. “You know how to use that?”
“I killed four or five of them downstairs,” Weaver answered. “But the honest answer is no. And I’m pretty much out of bullets.”
“Knapp carries an H K,” VanGelder said. “I’ll get you some magazines. You want a shotgun?”
“I’d love a shotgun,” Weaver admitted.
“Okay, you stay by the barricade and make sure none of them come up,” VanGelder said, walking away. “And I’ll get you a shotgun.”
Weaver peered out through a gap in the barricade but none of the things seemed to be coming up the stairs. There was a crashing from downstairs and their weird ululation but they didn’t seem to be interested in the upper stories. There was firing from all around the house, now and he heard the sound of some of the thorn projectiles hitting the sides along with a curse from someone in one of the rooms.
VanGelder stopped by and dropped four magazines on the floor, then handed him a shotgun.
“Four rounds in the tube and one up the spout,” VanGelder said. “You know how to use it?”
“You pull the handle back,” Weaver said, guessing. Sure enough when he did a shotgun round flew out the side. “I’ve watched television.”