Come on, you bastard.
Less than a hundred feet away, the crocodile and the canister met and Leon pulled the trigger. The first shot pinged off the floor in front of the rocking can and the grinning jaws opened, the massive beast lowering its head to catch at the obstacle, to push it aside.
– steady -
Leon fired again, and… KA-BOOM!… was thrown to the ground as the canister ex-ploded. In a blast of curled steel and igniting gases, the creature's head was obliterated, disappearing like a popped balloon. Almost simultaneously, a wave of steaming gore hit Leon, bits of tooth and bone and shredded, smoking flesh clapping over him like a thick wet blanket. Gagging, his ears ringing and arm bleeding, Leon sat up as the headless carcass settled to the floor, the legs crumpling beneath the brainless weight of the reptilian monster. He pressed his blood-covered hand against the wound, exhausted, sick, in pain and as deeply satisfied as he'd felt in quite some time. "Gotcha, you dumb shit," he said, and smiled. When Ada came jogging up the corridor a moment later, that's how she found him staring at his handi– work in dazed and dizzy triumph, bloody and bleed– ing and grinning like a little kid.
TWENTY-THREE
Leon was wearing a white undershirt beneath his uniform; Ada tore it into strips and bandaged his arm with it, fashioning a kind of sling for him to wear once she'd slipped his ruined shirt back on. He'd lost enough blood to be dazed, almost helpless, and Ada used his mild shock to explain herself as she tended to him, feeling mildly shocked herself by the complex emotions that warred inside of her.
"… and I thought she looked familiar. I thought I'd met her through John, and I almost caught up to her, but she must have slipped past me. I got lost in the tunnels, trying to find my way back…"
Nothing of truth, but Leon didn't seem to notice, just as he didn't seem to notice the gentle, careful way she touched him, or the very slight tremor in her voice as she apologized for a third time, for leaving him behind.
He saved my life. Again. And all I have to give him in return are lies, calculated deceit in exchange for his selflessness…
Something had changed for her when he'd taken the bullet instead of her, and she didn't know how to change it back. Even worse, she didn't know that she wanted to change it back. It was like the birth of a new feeling, some emotion that she couldn't name but that seemed to fill her up; it was unsettling, uncomfort– able – and yet somehow, not altogether unpleasant. His clever solution to the problem of the nearly invincible crocodile – the creature that she'd only just been able to hold at bay, in spite of her best efforts – had made the unnamed feeling even stron– ger. The hole in his arm was only a flesh wound, but from the streaks of fresh blood across his smooth chest and stomach, she knew that it had been hurting bad – draining him, killing him as he'd worked to save her ass.
Get rid of him now, her mind hissed, leave him, don't let this affect the job – the job, Ada, the mission. Your life.
She knew it was what she had to do, that it was the only thing to do, but when he was fixed up as best as she could manage, and her pathetic cover story had been told, she conveniently forgot to listen to herself. Ada helped him to his feet and led him away from the gut-splattered scene of the monster reptile's demise, spouting off some nonsense about having found what looked like an exit when she'd been lost. Annette Birkin was gone; as soon as Leon had led the crocodile out of the dump, she'd scaled the ladder and checked – and seen that Annette had retained enough sense to start up the fans and lower the bridge before running, effectively blowing Ada's other op– tions for escape. The woman was possibly psychotic, but not a moron – and although she'd been wrong about Ada's source of purpose, she'd been dead on as to the purpose itself. To wrap the mission, Ada would have to get to the lab as quickly as she could, before Annette could do anything… final – and Leon, si– lent and stumbling Leon, would add to her time by half.
Drop him! Lose the weight, you're not a nursemaid, for Chrissake, this isn't you, Ada… "I'm thirsty," Leon whispered, his breath warm across her neck. She looked up into his gore-stained, blinking face and found that the voice inside was easier to ignore this time. She'd have to leave him, of course, in the end there would have to be a parting of the ways… but not yet. "Then we'll have to find you some water," she said, and steered him gently in the direction she needed to go.
Sherry woke up in the dark, a terrible, bitter taste in her mouth, a river of cold gunk tugging at her clothes. There was a rumbling sound all around her, a sound like the sky was falling, and for a second, she couldn't remember what had happened or where she was -
– and when she realized that she couldn't move, she panicked. The thundering sound was fading, fading and then gone, but she was stuck in some awful stinking river, pressed against cold, wet hardness, and she was alone. She opened her mouth to scream – and then re– membered the screaming monster, the monster and then the giant bald man, and then Claire. Remember– ing Claire stopped her from screaming; somehow, the image of her was like a soothing touch, easing through the blind terror and allowing her to think.
Got sucked into a drain hole, and now I'm… some-where else, and screaming won't help.
It was a brave thought, a strong thought, and it made her feel better to think it. She pushed herself away from the hardness at her back, treading the dark water, and discovered that she wasn't stuck at all; she had been up against a row of bars or openings in the rock, and the force of the current had held her there, held her, and probably saved her from drowning. The disgusting goop was flowing around her, tinkling and burbling like a regular old stream, not nearly as strong as before – and the bad taste in her mouth meant that she must have swallowed some of it… Thinking that opened up the rest of her memory. She'd been floating along and then had gotten twisted somehow, and had gulped some of the horrible, chemical-tasting liquid and freaked out – passed out, she thought. At least the noise had stopped, whatever that had been, a sound like a moving train, maybe, or a giant truck, roaring away… and now that she was more awake, she realized that she could see. Not very much, but enough to know that she was in a big room filled with water, and there was a tiny, feeble shaft of light coming down from high above.
There has to be a way out. Somebody built this place, they had to have a way out…
Sherry swam a little farther into the big room, and kicking, she felt the toes of her shoes glance off against something hard. Something hard and flat. Feeling stupid for not thinking of it already, she took a deep breath, lowered her legs and stood up. The water was all the way up to her shoulders, but she could stand.
The last traces of panic slipped away as she stood in the middle of the room, turning slowly, her eyes finally getting the most from the weak light and saw the ladder shape against the far wall. She was still scared, no question, but the sight of the shadowy rungs meant she'd found the way out. Sherry lifted her feet and paddled toward the ladder, proud of how she was handling herself.
No screaming, no crying. Just like Claire said. Strong.
She reached the ladder and pulled her knees up to the bottom rung, a few inches above the surface. She got her feet beneath her and started to climb, grimac– ing at the thick, slimy feel of the metal bars beneath her pruned fingers. The ladder seemed to go on forever, and when she risked a look down to see how high she'd gone, she could only see a tiny, shimmering patch of the water's lapping top where the light hit it directly. She could see the source of the light, too – a narrow slit in the ceiling, not much higher than where she was.