‘Tombes,’ bellowed Lupe. ‘Need some fucking help.’
Tombes fed another couple of chair legs onto the fire.
He crossed the room. He bent and inspected Ekks. The guy lay motionless and sallow. Tombes leaned close and checked for the rise and fall of the man’s chest.
Carotid pulse. Weak. Slow.
A distant shout from Lupe.
‘Tombes. Need some fucking help.’
He snatched up his axe and ran for the door.
Lupe, Donahue and Sicknote scrambled up the stairs. Three infected creatures on their tail, climbing the steps hand-over-hand.
Sudden hiss and fizz. The stairwell lit blood red.
They looked up. Tombes at the top of the stairwell, axe in one hand, flare in the other.
‘Here.’ He tossed the axe to Lupe. She snatched it out the air.
She braced her legs ready to swing.
‘Hey. Cabron.’
One of the creatures hissed. Lupe swung the axe and split its head in two.
‘Who’s next, motherfuckers?’
A broken thing dragged useless legs.
Lupe rotated the axe, swung hard and hammered the spike into the nape of its neck. She jerked the axe free, ripping away scalp, brain and a section of skull.
An eyeless revenant clung to the balustrade. It stumbled up the steps, left arm clutching the air as it reached for Lupe.
She adjusted position and brought the axe down in a shallow stroke that decapitated the creature with a single blow.
Tombes glanced around for a weapon. A fist-sized chunk of roof rubble lay beside a pillar. Angular enough to crack skulls. He threw down the flare and sprinted across the hall. He skidded to a halt and snatched up the rock.
A splintering crash.
The freight elevator filled with dust and split wood. Something kicking its way through the planked roof.
Some kind of gargantuan, misshapen spider.
Tombes slowly backed away.
The grotesque creature crept from the deep shadow of the elevator and was lit by crimson flare-light. Four legs. Four arms. Bloated torso. Burned flesh.
Cloke’s head twisted side to side.
‘I knew you’d be back,’ murmured Tombes.
A gasp of horror from the stairwell. Donahue and Sicknote standing at the head of the platform steps, transfixed by the monstrous thing crouched in the corner of the hall.
The creature’s head swung back and forth. A cold, insectoid intelligence surveyed Tombes, then turned its attention to Donahue and Sicknote.
The creature moved towards Donahue. A powerful, arachnid glide.
‘Hey,’ yelled Tombes. ‘Hey, over here.’
The creature turned its attention back to Tombes.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ hissed Donahue. ‘It’ll rip you apart.’
The creature sidled left, then right; a slow dance that pushed Tombes away from the plant room and platform stairwell, and cut off any means of escape.
‘Watch it,’ shouted Lupe. ‘It’s boxing you in the corner.’
He nodded.
‘Donnie. Lupe. Get ready to run.’
Tombes shrugged off his coat. He tossed the rock hand to hand, assessed it for weight.
‘Think you’re going to make a meal out of me?’ he yelled. ‘Sorry to disappoint.’
He turned to one side and pulled back his arm like he had the pitcher’s spot.
‘I love you, Donnie.’
He hurled the rock. It blurred through the air and struck the creature’s flank, tearing flesh.
The deformed thing emitted a high, inhuman howl.
It ran at Tombes. It crossed the ticket hall in a lightning, liquid scuttle.
Tombes turned and sprinted as fast as he could. He ran at the wall. The creature shrieked with rage as, somewhere within its insect mind, it perceived what Tombes was about to do.
Tombes dived headfirst into the station sign.
His head slammed into the tiles. Skull-shattering impact.
Lupe grabbed Donahue and Sicknote and pushed them towards the plant room.
‘We’ve got to get out of here.’
The creature stood over Tombes. Harsh, braying roar. It grabbed his broken body and swung it back and forth until an arm ripped from a shoulder socket. The cadaver skidded across the tiled floor and came to rest.
Door slam.
The Galloway/Cloke hybrid swung around. Lupe, Donahue and Sicknote shut in the plant room.
The creature loped across the ticket hall and hurled itself against the door.
Lupe and Donahue put their shoulders to the door and tried to hold it closed. Shuddering impacts. Splintering wood.
Lupe shouted to Sicknote:
‘Come on, dumb-ass. Get something to prop the door.’
Sicknote backed away in fear.
Rusted strap hinges tore from wood. Tumourous arms punched through the panels.
The door gave way. Broken planks kicked aside.
Lupe and Donahue backed off as the grotesque, melded form ducked beneath the lintel and entered the room.
A bulbous, misshapen head. Two skulls jostling for position behind Cloke’s face.
The creature looked around. Jet black eyes. It saw Sicknote and snarled.
Sicknote grabbed an axe. The creature was on him before he had time to swing. He was seized by four arms, lifted clean off his feet. He dropped the axe. He was slammed against the wall.
Donahue snatched the axe from the floor and swung. She put all her strength behind the blow. She buried the blade deep in the creature’s back. She hung from the shaft.
A pair of hands reached behind the creature’s back and tried to detach the axe blade. Donahue was thrown to the floor.
Engine noise. A sputtering growl.
Lupe revved the stone cutter. She pressed the blade to the creature’s waist. Whirling teeth sliced flesh. Shriek and squirm. Blood spray. Bubbling pus and rot-stink.
Bone-crunch as the blade snagged spine. The grotesque thing convulsed and fell to the floor.
Donahue hurled paint cans. The cans hit the wall and burst open. The wounded creature drenched in white paint. Overpowering turpentine stink.
Lupe kicked over the fire bucket scattering embers. Catastrophic vapour ignition. Fireball. Burn-roar. Lupe and Donahue threw themselves to the floor as flames washed overhead.
The creature lay at the centre of the conflagration, engulfed in fire. Limbs thrashed and cooked. Black smoke. Boiling fat. Popping, spitting flesh.
The monstrous, melded thing contorted and flailed. It ripped itself in half at the waist. The upper torso squirmed away from the flames, trailing ropes of intestine. It gripped water pipes and swung itself up the wall. It snatched at Lupe’s head. She ducked the grasping talons and rolled clear.
The Cloke/Galloway hybrid dropped to the floor and crab-scuttled into the hall.
Lupe struck a flare. Crimson fire. She stood in the plant room doorway and peered into the gloom.
‘Is he out there?’ asked Donahue.
Lupe squinted into shadows. The wrecked roof of the freight elevator. The dark passageway leading to the flooded platform.
‘I think he’s gone.’
They edged out into the ticket hall.
A crumpled fire coat lying among the rubble. Lupe picked it up. A shamrock patch on the sleeve. Erin go Bragh.
Tombes lay beneath the FENWICK sign. Donahue approached his body. She tried not to look at his empty shoulder socket and his shattered head.
She plucked the gold crucifix from his neck and put it in her pocket.
She threw the coat over his upper body. Then she knelt and prayed.
61
A tunnel cave mouth blocked by prop-beams and planks.