Elena swallowed hard. “That thing is the size of a horse.”
It was pale, nearly colorless save for a slight brownish hue, and its large, compound eyes. They were multicolored, electric hues rippling across the surface. It rubbed its forelimbs over its head as though washing itself, all the while buzzing in a timbre so deep the walls vibrated. Elena couldn’t help but notice the stout piercing mouthparts, long and sharp like translucent daggers.
She remembered being terrified as a child when the movie The Fly played on TV. Even the edited television version was nightmarish, giving her an intense abhorrence for winged insects and Jeff Goldblum. Staring at the disgusting giant bug, she realized how childish her fears were of special effects from a silly movie. The thing in front of them was the real nightmare.
It continued its cycle of trying to fly, but the hall was too cramped. There was no room for it to go. Once it was grounded again, it resumed the disgusting face-washing motions, glimmering eyes appearing to stare directly at Elena and her squad.
Charlie Foxtrot stepped up beside Elena. “Okay, time to say bye-bye.” She raised her rifle.
“Maybe that’s not a good—”
The shot rang out. The fly’s midsection exploded, painting the walls in red and green spatters. It lay in a sticky mound of its own entrails, writhing in a berserk display of jerking limbs.
Charlie Foxtrot grinned. “Boom. I hate those things, even when they’re normal size. But there’s always a plan with a gun in your hand.”
The buzzing noise increased. Elena took a step back, bumping into Nathan. “Are you sure it’s dead?”
“Dead, dying, whatever.” Charlie Foxtrot shouldered her weapon. “It ain’t doing us no harm, that’s for damn sure.”
The sound intensified as if to deny her statement. The fly’s body jerked for a few seconds before a massive swarm erupted from its steaming innards. The cloud of buzzing insects flew directly at them.
Blackwell skidded to a halt. “Run!”
He turned down the nearest hallway. They followed, tailed by the horde of buzzing horseflies. The group was overrun, attacked by thousands of large, pale biting insects. Elena flailed, swatting the flies that buzzed in her ears and attacked her face and neck. The air was thick with swarming bodies, forcing her to keep her mouth clamped for fear of swallowing. Choking back her screams, she stumbled and nearly fell, colliding with the others. Her stomach clenched, her breath nearly cut off from the paralyzing panic. The things were everywhere. Crawling, biting her bare skin like tiny jabbing needles. She wanted to scream, wanted to escape, do anything to get them off…
Nozzles hissed from the ceiling, filling the air with gaseous clouds. It coated the flies with white spray, dropping them to the floor in wriggling piles. Elena staggered on, coughing from the dry chemicals that jetted from the fire suppression system. Blackwell’s chest heaved as he leaned against a wall control panel where he had activated the extinguishers. Nathan and Charlie Foxtrot hacked and wheezed, stumbling forward.
“Keep… going.” Blackwell motioned with his hand. “Get out of the gas. Server room is this way.”
They kept moving, racked by coughing fits. Fire burned in Elena’s lungs, every breath a shot of gasoline in the flames. Blackwell staggered to a door, placed his hand on a display, and entered a code. The door hissed open.
“Need two at the door. Charlie, Nathan — keep watch. Let us know if anything heads this way.”
“Anything comes this way, it’s dead.” Charlie Foxtrot rubbed her neck, frowned at the blood on her fingers. “I don’t care if I have to shoot every insect one by one.”
Blackwell motioned to Elena. “Come on.”
They entered the server room in a blast of welcome cold from the frigid air conditioning. The interior was white from floor to ceiling, with a dozen or more tightly isolated software containers housing stacks of servers blinking with multicolored lights. A couple of refrigerated units were installed to the walls.
Blackwell dashed to the furthest wall, tapped a sequence on a built-in vault and snatched open the door. The interior was empty.
“Nothing here. The bomb must be in the control room.” He pulled out the only thing inside the safe: a thick key hanging from a beaded chain.
Elena edged toward the door. “Okay. If we head that way now, we can still help Guy and the others.”
He turned to a computer. “And we will. Just a second.”
“What are you doing?”
He never looked up, fingers flying across the keyboard. “What does it look like? Finding the route to the submarine. It’s still docked below, just have to get to it.” He dangled the key he extracted from the vault. “This is our out. It turns on the fusion generator to the sub.” He hung the chain around his neck.
She walked over. “That’s not all you’re doing.”
He spared her a quick glare. “Of course not. I’m downloading pertinent data to the sub’s computers. This mission is a wash. The data is the only thing I’ll be able to salvage.” Not bothering to pause, he dashed to the lab refrigerator and rummaged inside. After a quick search he extracted a carrying case the size of a laptop bag. Opening it, he glanced over the samples inside.
Elena shook her head. “Well, at least you got what you came for, right?”
He glanced up with a wry smile. “Did you ever think this data might be needed, Private? That this Aberration may just be a sign of things to come? How can we fight it if we don’t have the latest, most detailed information? Stein is the only person to have studied this energy at its source, uninhibited. What he’s compiled is immeasurable in its value. Consider that while you’re looking to be judge and jury.”
Elena felt a stab of guilt. “I… hadn’t considered it from that perspective.”
“Few do. But someone has to keep their eye on the ball.” He straightened, snapping the case shut. Glancing at the computer, he nodded. “It’s done.”
Charlie Foxtrot yelled from outside the door. “Something’s out here.”
Blackwell pulled a Berretta from the holster and nodded to Elena.
Humidity slapped her in the face when she dashed out the door. The eerie mist stubbornly clung to the floor and vined across the walls. Dim red pulsed from the emergency lights, coloring the fog in shades of pink. Charlie Foxtrot and Nathan stood a few steps away, facing off against something in the shrouded distance.
A figure was barely visible, moving with a sinuous, catlike stride. Its voice carried down the halls, singing in a warbled pitch.
“Ten little Injuns standing in a line. One was decapitated, then there were nine.”
The voice was instantly familiar. Charlie Foxtrot lowered her rifle with a bewildered expression.
“Damon?”
The figure swayed back and forth as if dancing. He continued his singing.
“Nine little Injuns swinging on a gate. One got his arm ripped off, then there were eight.”
Blackwell raised his handgun. “Damon’s dead. We saw it.”
“Yeah, and we all drowned.” Charlie Foxtrot stepped closer. “Stop playing, Damon. What happened to you?”
“Eight little Injuns happy under heaven. A jellyfish stung one, then there were seven.” Damon was almost visible, but there was something wrong with his profile. The way he moved was off as well. It was too nimble, nearly animalistic. And there was something about the words to his song…
“He’s talking about the way everyone died!” Elena raised her G36, lining Damon in the sights. “He wasn’t even there when Ariki was killed. He couldn’t know unless—”
“It’s not him. Kill it. Kill it!” Blackwell opened fire. Elena and Nathan were right behind, followed by Charlie Foxtrot. The sound was deafening as the hall flickered with muzzle flashes.