The orb rolled the limp body around. Its oddly gentle touch did not burn the nymph’s flesh, as if this Volitox queen could control her acidic fire. Little was truly known about the life stages of these creatures. They were too violent, too dangerous to truly study. But the researchers here had already recognized the strong maternal instinct of these queens.
Dylan took advantage of that now.
Lowering one hand, he pulled on the fishing line and drew the carcass farther up the bank and away from its mother. He teased the Volitox closer, letting it believe its offspring might still be alive and trying to crawl away.
The orb probed along its retreating path, stretching to reach the fleeing nymph’s body. Finally the queen had to arc its bulk out of the water to continue her pursuit.
About time.
Her head beached up onto the riverbank, revealing its torpedo-shaped bulk, the size of an orca whale, but tipped by a circular mouth, like that of a lamprey eel. Inside that puckering maw lay a bottomless well of spiraling hooked teeth.
Dylan let go of the fishing line and steadied his aim, cupping one hand under the other. He centered his shot on the exposed base of the stalk, where he knew a huge ganglion lay, leading straight to the brain.
One shot there should drop this beast.
And if he missed, he still had a round chambered in the other barrel.
I never need more than two shots.
His finger firmed on the trigger and began to pull—
— when gunfire erupted down the tunnel.
Surprised, he twitched and his Howdah exploded. The wild round sparked off the rocky bank and ricocheted harmlessly into the darkness.
The firefight continued at the far end of the tunnel, accompanied by the distinct chatter of a machine gun.
What the hell?
Huddled in the cab of the CAAT, Gray took out another man with a shotgun blast to the chest. The soldier’s body went flying back. Out of shells, he tossed the weapon aside and lifted the Heckler & Koch assault rifle from beside his seat.
Nothing like commandeering a vehicle full of your enemy’s weapons.
Not that he and his partner hadn’t come without some firepower of their own.
Across the way, Kowalski stood outside the cab, crouched on the belted tread of the CAAT, shielded behind the open armored driver’s door. He balanced his machine gun on the door’s edge, creating his own makeshift gunner’s nest.
Bodies littered the ground around the vehicle.
Seven total.
The two remaining soldiers teamed up and strafed the CAAT, giving up their attempt to reach the tunnel leading out of here. They turned tail and ran into the depths of the Coliseum, fleeing the lights and disappearing into the cover of darkness.
Gray took a few potshots at them, but they were gone.
“What now?” Kowalski asked.
Gray stared off into that cavern. “Guard the fort,” he said, not trusting that the vanished pair might not try to retake this base. “I’m going after Wright.”
Kowalski hauled his machine gun up and hopped down to the ground. He pointed his weapon at the bigger CAAT. “Time to switch rides. We have a river to cross if we still want to reach that Back Door.”
It was a smart choice. Back at the bridge, he remembered overhearing a commando express concern about taking a smaller CAAT across those treacherous currents. The bigger vehicle would have a better chance.
“Keep a watch out there,” Gray said.
“You watch yourself.” Kowalski glanced back to the tunnel leading out from the Coliseum. “You’re not going to catch these bastards with their pants down. Not a second time. Especially Wright.”
Gray silently agreed, reaching to his ears and tugging out the plugs.
Their ruse had worked perfectly. Earlier, when he had first caught sight of the camp here, he had used the directional microphone built into his DSR rifle to eavesdrop on the soldiers’ conversations. He heard Wright talking to someone on the radio. He could only pick up the commando’s side of the call, but it was clear Wright had new orders, something important he needed to get before evacuating with his men.
Whatever that was, Gray intended to stop him.
Also, while en route, he had overheard the enemy’s plans to use the LRAD against the approaching CAAT, to knock the occupants out and take the vehicle by force. Knowing that, he and Kowalski had found protective gear in their ride: plugs and noise-dampening earphones. Down here, where many of the CAATs came equipped with portable LRADs, such emergency gear was likely standard equipment.
So it was a simple matter of feigning incapacitation, slumping in their seats, which wasn’t a hard act since that sonic assault was agonizing, even with the noise-suppression gear. Still, the trick got the enemy to successfully lower their guard. Once the ex-British soldiers were near enough — laughing at their supposed victory — Gray and Kowalski had let loose with both barrels, firing from either side of the CAAT, catching the entire crew by surprise.
But that’s where their ruse ended.
Surely Wright had heard the brief firefight — and would be waiting for him.
So be it.
As he headed into the tunnel, he glanced to the far right, to where a twinkle of a star glowed high up the wall on that side. Jason and the others should have reached the Back Door by now. Gray had expected to hear that earth-shattering blast of those bunker busters by now.
But so far nothing.
What’s taking them so long?
Jason leaped off the last rung and rushed toward the small glow in the darkness. He had made the descent as fast as he could in the darkness, coming close to falling twice. But he knew now was not the time for caution.
He hurried through the muck and moss and reached Professor Harrington’s body. The man lay on his back, his eyes open and glassy. Blood ran from the corner of his lips, one arm broken and twisted under him.
Oh, God…
Jason fell to his knees in the ankle-deep algal sludge. He touched the professor’s shoulder, reaching with his other hand to close his eyes.
I’m sorry.
Then those eyes twitched, following his fingers. A small bloody bubble escaped from a left nostril.
He’s still alive!
But Jason knew it would not be for long. A bony kink in his thin neck looked like a cervical fracture.
“Professor…”
His pale lips moved, but no words came out.
Jason hated to disturb the last moments of his life, but the situation here was too dire, the need too great. He reached to Harrington’s cheek and held it.
“Professor, we need the code. Can you speak?”
Harrington’s gaze found Jason’s face. Fear shone there — but not for himself. Those eyes flickered up toward the distant substation, toward his daughter.
“I understand,” he said. “Don’t worry. Stella made it safely up top.”
He wasn’t certain of that, but a lie that brought comfort couldn’t be a sin.
With his words, some of that anxiety dimmed from the professor. His entire body sagged into the soft bed beneath him. He likely only lived because of the thick, damp growth covering the stone floor.
“The code, professor,” Jason pleaded.
The only acknowledgment was the slightest nod, only detectable because of his palm resting on the man’s cheek. Jason tried to get him to speak, but the professor’s gaze never left the glow of that distant station, to where he believed his daughter was safe.
Finally the old man gave one last breath that sounded like a sigh, dying with a measure of peace, taking his secrets with him.