None came.
Banks patted his weapon then slung it back over his shoulder.
“Whatever they are, they’re just animals. We’ve got the firepower to put any big fucker we meet down, if they’re daft enough to come close. Let’s just find a way of getting a message out. I want to be well out of here before it gets dark.”
- 11 -
Hynd and McCally took point again as they went back into the facility. Banks was initially just glad to get away from the worst of the smell, although he thought he might hold the memory of it in his nose and throat for a while to come yet. They went back through the ruined doors and into the lab area.
“Are we sure there’s nothing working in here?” he said. This time, he addressed the scientists rather than his own men. Galloway was first to reply.
“Everything’s torn to buggery,” he said, “pardon my French. And you’re right. This wasn’t a lion, or the wolves. Whatever tore the shit out of all the electronics had at least some sense of what they were doing.”
“So, fucking smart giant ginger gorillas?” Wiggins said. “Fucking marvelous.”
“There’s no network in the background somewhere untouched? A Wi-Fi router or some such?”
This time, it was the older scientist, Waterston, who replied.
“I got through on my phone on Wi-Fi from my room just before we ate last night,” he said. “In all the excitement, I’d completely forgotten.”
“Aye,” Wiggins said sarcastically. “It’s no’ as if our lives depend on it or anything important like that.”
Banks gave the private a cuff on the ear.
“If you’re not going to help, shut the fuck up, Wiggo. The smart folk are thinking.”
He turned back to Waterston.
“So there’s Wi-Fi up in the guest areas?”
“There was last night, before all the commotion. Whether there still is…?” Waterston made a see-saw motion with his left hand.
“It’s the only plan I’ve got,” Banks said. “And it looks like there’s no survivors to tell us otherwise. So, upstairs it is. Hynd, Cally?” The other two looked around. “Double time, up to the guest area. And keep your eyes open.”
Banks saw all three of the scientists pointedly ignore the carnage and butchery in the corridor out of the labs on this return journey—he didn’t blame them. No man should have to look at the insides of another lying splayed open for all to see in the ultimate invasion of privacy. He’d seen far too much of it himself over the years to judge anyone else for their reaction.
Hynd and McCally went through into the aviary dome first, then came to a sudden halt. Hynd put up a fist in the air. Wiggins and Banks knew well enough to stop and go quiet, but the three scientists had to be stopped with an arm on Waterston’s shoulder, and a finger to his lips.
“Cap, you need to see this,” Hynd said, and motioned him forward.
Banks had been wondering what had happened to Volkov’s body; he’d thought the big lion must have taken it, but now he had a new suspect. The little squat Russian lay on the aviary trestle, ribs splayed like eagle-wings, sightless eyes staring at the treetops high overhead. All of his internal organs had been scooped out, and lay in a wet, red, too-neat pile under the table.
“Something tried to make a fucking canoe out of him,” Hynd said.
Waterston came up to Bank’s shoulder, had one look at the view, then turned away, retching.
“He wasn’t there when we came in,” McCally said, keeping his voice low.
“No, he wasn’t,” Banks replied. “That means whatever put him there can move quick and quiet—and it might still be in here with us. The plan hasn’t changed though; double time, up to the guestrooms, and try to get a message through. Keep your eyes open, and keep this simple.”
Banks looked up, following the dead Russian’s gaze, only to find himself the object of scrutiny from thirty feet up in the branches. He almost took it for a part of the tree itself at first, for it was russet colored and almost blended with the bark and branches. But the face was paler than the body, and almost hairless in comparison to the shaggy reddish hair that covered the rest of it. Pale blue eyes, like a river on a clear day, stared back at Banks. He only caught a glimpse of head and shoulders before it ducked away into the thicker foliage. It looked human—bulkier, bigger, and definitely hairier, but also, definitely, almost human.
Branches cracked and swayed, and pine needles fell all around them as the beast climbed, going up the tree under the foliage with almost unbelievable speed. Banks remembered to lift his weapon, and tried to take aim, but there was no clear target, and the thing was already way up on the tops.
They got a closer look at it as it left the aviary. Banks tried to gauge size and compare it to the birds he’d seen up there the day before, but surely his calculations, or memory, must be off, for he estimated the beast to be at least eight feet tall. With arms that looked too long to be normal, it leapt up, grabbed one of the metal struts of the dome and swung out of a hole at the very top. It had scampered off and away—running upright, like a man, across the roof before any of them even thought to breathe.
“I knew it,” Wiggins said. “Fucking huge ginger gorillas.”
“Move,” Banks said. “It’s buggered off for now, but if it comes back, put a few rounds over its head. It’s probably never seen, or heard, a gun. Here’s hoping it’s enough to put a fright into it.”
Galloway was still staring up at the roof, unable to believe what he’d just seen.
“The crazy fucker really did it,” he whispered.
“Did what?”
“He cloned a hominid,” Galloway whispered. “And one that’s not even supposed to exist at that.”
“Save it for later,” Banks said and guided the man away to join the others. “For now, we stick to the plan until we need another one. But I’ll need an explanation at some point.”
Galloway laughed bitterly.
“You and me both,” he said, but finally lowered his eyes from the roof and walked over to join the others. Hynd and McCally led them all away around the interior pathway of the aviary and into the domed walkways of the main complex.
Banks kept a close eye on the caged areas, that of the cave lion in particular, but everything was quiet in this part of the facility. The hares were still out of sight, and, Banks hoped, the lion itself would be out in the open country, seeking larger, slower, prey. They moved quickly out into the main reception area. They saw through the large front windows that thin fog was once again drifting across the open tundra outside, partially obscuring the view. But Banks saw enough to know that the fences were down along a large stretch of the enclosures. A mammoth stood, lazily chewing at the grasses on the edge of the runway near the Lear Jet. And what looked to be the whole herd of elk were on the move, walking at a stately pace and led by a huge-antlered male, across their field of vision and off out of sight to the north in the fog. There was no sign of any predators, whether wolf, or lion.
Or fucking huge ginger gorillas.
Somehow, that made things worse rather than better. Banks would much prefer to know where the enemy was, rather than be constantly on edge, wondering where an attack might come from. In either case, their current situation was too exposed, and he was keenly aware that only the expanse of glass lay between them and a possible assault. He needed more walls around them.
“Move up,” he said, and followed at the rear as they made their way up to the guestrooms.