The wounded Other tilted its head back and opened its mouth; a yawning cavity that stretched far wider than it had a right to. Wider and wider the mouth stretched as though searching for the shriek that would not arrive.
Rats vomited in an unceasing torrent, impossibly huge for the orifice they spewed from. As they disgorged, the Other sagged like a deflated balloon, a grisly sack of flesh that spilled out a river of vermin. The rank stench of musty fur wafted ahead of them and assaulted Guy’s nostrils. In seconds they filled the hallway; their squeaks little less than growls as they scurried forward, hundreds of furry bodies and long, naked tails advanced with gleaming eyes and fur stiffly upraised.
Drake pointed his pistol as though it still had bullets inside. “That’s just sick!”
Guy waited until they were almost in the lab before unloading the shotgun. Thunder shook the hallway; red pulp spattered the walls. The remaining rats skidded fearfully before turning the way they came.
Drake panted wordlessly as he continued to pull the trigger despite the vacant chambers. Their empty clicks were the only sound besides the shrieks of the fleeing rats.
The scene down the hall was disgustingly surreal.
In shadows and hell-colored lighting, the endless stream of oversized rats swarmed the Others as they fled back into the stairway. The entire hallway was alive, the frantic movements only emphasized by the silence of the Others as they were assailed.
The rats attacked one another as well, one devouring the other in seconds. With every conquest the victor swelled in size; soon rats the size of small dogs fought on the blood-slicked floor. Guy dug clips from his duffel bag and flung them backward.
“Reload! Quickly!” He frantically discarded his empty shells and reloaded as the sounds of fighting vermin died down.
The rat that remained was Rottweiler-sized. Its red eyes gleamed wetly as it snarled. The tail that lashed furiously was as thick as Guy’s arm.
The sounds of clumsy reloading echoed behind him. The rat seemed to sense it. Without warning it shot forward, a dirty gray streak of matted fur and flashing teeth. Despite the hail of bullets it barreled on, defiant even as it slipped on the bloody tiles and slid through the door. The impact bowled them over; the entire lab was awash in the stink.
Guy picked himself up as Fran screamed. He placed a hand on her arm. “It’s ok. It’s finished.”
“It’s still breathing…” She pointed the pistol, wavering in between edging forward and backing away. “It’s still alive…”
Looking at it only made it more horrific. With its monstrous size it appeared almost alien. Its legs scrabbled uselessly, dragging claws in chalkboard screams across the floor. The tail lashed like a whip, scattering lab equipment and its teeth clicked together, chomping on its tongue. Bloody foam bubbled from its mouth.
Guy quickly put the shotgun to its head and pulled the trigger. The bestial head rocked back, then just as quickly lunged at Guy, mouth agape and flashing yellowed fangs.
Guy was even faster. He leaped back just out of range, then stepped back in with the long blade in his hand. His downward swing cleanly decapitated the rat with a butcher’s efficiency. The head rolled across the floor, spraying blackish blood.
Drake stumbled backward. “Aw man, that’s just…”
Michael collapsed against the cabinets, breathing heavily. Guy looked at Fran.
“Not bad, Fran. I wouldn’t have guessed you knew how to handle a gun.”
A startled look flashed across her face. She uttered a half-hysterical cackle as she looked at the pistol in her hand. “Single woman. Have to be careful these days, right?” She dislodged a bullet from one of the scattered clips and held it up. It gleamed in the dim light.
“I’ve never seen bullets like these.”
Guys stared intently down the hall. “You wouldn’t. They’re specially designed for maximum damage to the Others. Tip is iron. Casing is filled with a blend of garlic, silver nitrate, crushed holly, and salt. A lethal cocktail for just about any manifestation.”
He wiped his blade with one of the lab towels. “Just like this blade. Iron, not steel. The Others would just laugh off steel.”
Fran set the bullet on the counter. Her hands trembled. “It’s just… so much to grasp, you know? Just this morning I came to work, just another day, and now…” She gestured uselessly.
Michael picked up a large hammer from a tool bag on the counter. He peered down the hallway alongside Guy. “I know. Seems like a lifetime ago.” He looked at Guy. “That’s it, right? That’s all of them?”
Guy methodically reloaded his shotgun. “No.”
Drake’s head swiveled wildly. “Whaddya mean, no?”
“The Others will be back. They know we can hurt them, so they fell back to regroup. But they’ll keep coming until they get what they want.”
“What the hell do they want?”
Guy sheathed the blade. “I’m afraid it’s me that they want.”
“What… what are you talking about?”
Guy sighed. “These minions aren’t all that intelligent. They’re simply hounds. All they know is that one of us here is a threat to them.”
The rest of them exchanged frightened glances.
“So you’re saying…”
“They don’t know which one of us is the threat. They’ll keep coming in waves until they kill everyone in the building.”
They all paused at the thought.
Michael cleared his throat. “So… what do we have to do?”
“Stay close to me. I’m sorry that you got caught up in this. We have to move. It’s not safe here.”
Fran looked up. “It’s not safe anywhere, if you’re telling the truth.”
Guy rummaged through his duffel bag. “True. But that’s beside the point. We have to go upstairs. Probably to the roof.”
Drake’s eyes practically popped. “The roof? We’ll be trapped up there! Why do you want to go all the way to the roof?”
Guy looked upward. “The point of convergence between dimensions is always stationed at the highest point. A beacon. It’s what’s blocking the cell phone signals. It’s what’s attracting this storm.”
He looked at each of them in turn “I won’t lie to you. It will get worse from here. We never faced any direct, coordinated attacks. Just random attempts to enter our world.”
“What does that mean?” Michael asked.
“That their leader, their master may be behind this. The Other One, we call it. If so, then this is a desperate act for them. We have weakened them as they have weakened us. It may all come to this moment. Right here, right now.”
He slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and hefted the shotgun. “And that might be a good thing.”
Drake shook his head. “I don’t see how anything about this can be considered good.”
“You have to look at the big picture. If the Other One is behind this attack, then it puts itself at risk. Up until now, we’ve never encountered it directly. That indicates that it has a sense of self-preservation. That means it can be hurt. If it can be hurt, then …”
He smiled. “That means I can kill it.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you couldn’t remember much of anything.”
Guy nodded again. “It’s getting clearer now. That’s how it works.”
“What works?”
“My memory. After an Aberration closes, the memories fade. Perhaps to keep us from going mad from the experience. I have to assimilate into the world again, tormented by dreams, fixated on things I know but can’t explain. Waiting for another Aberration, whereupon my memory returns in stages.”
Drake frowned. “Sounds like a hell of a way to live.”