But where are the lads?
He hadn’t heard any gunfire since his initial flight and once again the old fear of being trapped and alone bubbled to the surface. He pushed it away angrily. Fear was of no use to him here. To try to counter it he took inventory; he had his rifle with two spare mags in his vest, he had a handgun with a full clip and four grenades slung at his belt. Not enough to take on an army but it should be plenty to keep him alive until backup arrived.
If it ever comes.
He pushed the thought away again and, to take his mind off it stepped over to look over the balcony to the city below. The streets lay in shadow now that the sun had passed, shifting darkness that obscured doorways and alleyways in impenetrable darkness. There could be any number of beetles down there, and he’d never know until he stepped into their midst.
He resolved to stay in place and wait, but the more darkness gathered the more he doubted his strategy. Had he come high enough? How would the others find him if he stayed quiet and hiding? As the sun went down over the highest part of the city and his position was thrown into shadow, he decided to stop second guessing himself and do something about it.
I need to get out of here. I need to get higher.
He stepped through the doorway, switched on his gun light and took his first step down the stairwell.
He immediately regretted his decision and almost stepped back onto the balcony but part of him was still back in his dream, still cowering between rubbish bins at the base of a tower block in Easterhouse. Stepping back now would be like admitting he was still the scared lad, hiding in the dark. His tormentors in Easterhouse would have thought twice about taking on the man who smiled grimly, grabbed his rifle tight, and took a second step.
He took the steps slowly, taking care not to make a sound, not even a scrape of shoe on stone. The stairwell wound down and around the interior of the turret so he could never see more than a few feet ahead of him at any point but there was no hint that the beasts were anywhere close, no droning, no scramble of talons on rock and no trace of the acrid odor he’d come to associate with them. His confidence grew with every safe step downward but was quickly shattered on reaching the foot of the stairwell.
He looked out over the market area he’d seen from above. The air was still and quiet and the marketplace was cast in deep shadow now, but not too deep to hide the almost hemispherical domes that littered the whole area in sizes varying from man-sized up to several as big as automobiles. None were paying attention to him; all had their legs and heads pulled in and shells resting on the stony ground. But the alley he needed to take was off to his right and in order to get higher in the city Davies was going to have to walk among at least some of the beasts without them noticing him.
His first thought was to retreat back up the stairwell to the balcony, but the decisions he’d made to come down from there still applied. He had to get higher, that was the single greatest imperative. Okay, there were beasties in his way. But they hadn’t seen him yet. Once again he brought to mind his time in Glasgow; he’d evaded tormentors through stealth and cunning back then and those guys, while being none too smart, certainly had the beating of these beetles when it came to conviction.
You can do this.
He took a step out into the marketplace.
Nothing stirred. The oval domes lay there like strategically placed sculptures in a modern art museum. Emboldened, Davies took another step, then another. He skirted one of the larger specimens, marvelling at the rainbow sheen of its shell and the sheer impression of brute strength its solidity gave off. He treaded carefully amid the creatures, moving slowly, almost in slo-mo, even when his every instinct was just to leg it and hope for the best.
He was halfway to his goal of the alley entrance when the nearest beast to him, a specimen almost seven feet long, stirred and raised its shell. A leg came out, only six inches from his foot and a long talon that looked almost metallic scratched at the stone with a shriek like fingernails on a blackboard.
Davies went still, as if playing a childhood game of statues, one foot raised mid-step, the other now only four inches from the scratching talon.
Three inches now, and the talon scratched again, harder this time, the resultant noise louder, more insistent. Several other of the shells stirred as if in response and that was Davies’ signal to move. He threw caution to the wind and ran full tilt for the alleyway.
It was only ten yards but he almost didn’t make it; one of the larger creatures blocked his way. He had to make a quick decision: go round or go over. Over was faster. He leapt onto the thing’s back. As soon as it took his weight it shifted, rising up and threatening to overbalance him but his momentum was just enough to keep him moving forward. As he leapt off and into the mouth of the alleyway the characteristic high wailing drone rose behind him. By the time he’d gone up three steps he heard scrambling and scratching on stone at his back. He turned, rifle raised, to see the creature he’d just vaulted stuck firm in the mouth of the alleyway.
He considered firing, decided that the noise might do more harm than good and left the beast scrambling there while he turned for the stairs. He looked back after he’d taken thirty of them; smaller beasts were now clambering over the large one and beginning a pursuit.
But I’ve got a head start. That’s better than I could have hoped for.
He went up the flight of steps at a dead run, two at a time, another trick he’d learned young in the tower blocks.
He knew they were behind him. He could envision them packed shoulder to shoulder and legs to shells in a swarming mass coming up the alleyway like lava under force. He didn’t turn to look, concentrating instead on speed and surefootedness on the steps. When he arrived at the top of the alleyway he was on another concourse, one that ran high along the canyon close to the upper rim. There were no dwellings here; it had a sense of being a viewing platform for the city below, like a visitor’s area on a great dam. Over to the east, darkness was already engulfing the city while above him the highest ramparts still gleamed redly in the last of the sun.
Davies looked across the causeway, hoping for another alleyway to lead him to the tops. This time he was out of luck. The concourse stretched away to the right and left on either side of him. Across the way, at this point at least, there was only the rocky wall of the canyon. Going left meant heading back in the direction of the main city. Going right would at least keep him in twilight for the time being and there were high towers in that direction, the very topmost part of the city, still basking in the last of the sun, jutting up above the canyon wall like tombstone teeth.
He barely slowed, went right, and broke into a sprint.
He only turned a minute later when the high droning wail of the beasts took on an even higher pitch that sounded almost excited. He looked back over his shoulder and almost tripped over his feet; he had been found. The beasts were only fifty yards behind, a wall of them stretching across the concourse and filling with a black wave that rolled forward like a breaker in a high sea.
Davies set his gaze on the nearest of the high towers ahead; it was now his only hope in a race for safety.
It was going to be touch and go. Halfway to the tower he looked back again. The black wave was still coming, barely twenty-five yards behind now, close enough that he heard the scrape and scramble of talons on stone even above their insistent wailing drone. He tasted the acrid odor of them at the back of his throat. His breath came hard and heavy, his legs feeling as if they were on fire, and he knew that a single stumble would be the end of him; they would be onto him before he had time to rise. A black doorway at the base of the nearest tower became his single point of focus. It was thinking of Glasgow again that gave him a last spurt of energy; he hadn’t let them catch him back then.