Gant did manage to slip some sarcasm into "omnipotent," but the entity appeared not to notice, or care.
The creature did not answer right away. Thom was not sure whether it did not know how to answer or it was thinking of other things. Regardless, an answer did eventually come.
"I’m looking forward to actually seeing you shoot yourself. I think, Major, that when death finally comes for you, you won’t have a clever remark. And with your body in such bad shape, any hopes of heroic sacrifice are also gone. You’ll die just like all the other soldiers they sent in over the years: a failure. Then again, maybe I’ll just suck out your brains and make you one of my pets, like Jolly here. Maybe have you drive to your home and beat your wife to death with a baseball bat. How does that sound?"
They approached another elevator door — the door he and Brandon had used to enter the level after the lopsided battle on the floor above.
Thom resisted the bait. "That’s a rather long answer. Long enough that I don’t buy it. You need me at your side for some reason."
"Not relevant to me," Briggs’s form said as it stopped in front of the open elevator doors.
"You know what I think? I think I am your canary in the coal mine, that's what I think. You are not sure what is going to happen when the V.A.A.D. is activated."
"I know what will happen."
"You think you know. When Campion hits that switch you are expecting to become all-powerful. But you are not sure. So here I am. You cannot control everyone. How many heads can keep you out? Half? One out of three? Seven out of ten? Sure, you managed to stock Red Rock with the type of minds you could influence, all thanks to pushing Borman around, I suppose. But the real world is one big collection of conflicted, confused, and emotionally compromised people. The type of people you cannot control."
"Pointless speculation."
"I do not think so. I think that is exactly the point. You have been operating at low power for the last twenty years. Is that how long it took to come up with a solution to being stuck only halfway in this universe? You think the V.A.A.D. will blow open that hole and you will come pouring through, full power and all. But will that be enough to crack open stubborn skulls like mine? That is why I am here. When Campion hits the switch, you will test your power on me. If you can make me shoot myself, I suppose everything is going to plan. If not — what? Back down to the basement?"
Briggs swallowed hard. "I’ve changed my mind, Major. Instead of having you shoot yourself, I’m going to have you eviscerate your own body with something rusty and sharp. Something horrible. You will scream a lot."
"You know, for a God-like creature you are spiteful and full of hate, aren’t you? You’re nasty, too, huh? When I saw what you did to Ruthie — now that was something."
The face on Briggs’s body showed hints of a smile, as if recalling something pleasurable.
"I’m just guessing here, but when you first got your power I bet she resisted you. Then you managed to overpower her, but after all these years you still remember her rejecting you. So it was not enough to kill her; you had to degrade her and reject her. Was that satisfying for you? Was it satisfying how you tortured and mutilated that hippie chick psychic years ago?"
The entity fully smiled at that memory. "Oh yes, I remember her. My gift to all the hardworking soldiers of the base. I hope they enjoyed her."
"You have quite a misogynistic streak."
They stepped into the elevator car. Briggs’s fingers pushed a button and the car started up.
Like the rest of the underground labyrinth, the elevator was now bathed in light. Gant smelled dust burning as power ran through neglected electrical cords and lightbulbs.
He considered his situation. Jolly stood behind him with an MP5 submachine gun. The elevator was even more confined than the hallways of the complex, so this was his best chance to disarm Jolly. However, he needed to lean against the elevator wall to stay upright and he could move his left arm only about four inches in either direction before an excruciating pain locked things down.
No.
He could not attack. It might as well be a two-year-old holding the submachine gun; Thomas Gant was in no condition to do anything. The entity had done a good job of neutering his foe. Thomas Gant was, for all intents and purposes, a spectator.
All he could do now was watch and see how it all ended.
34
Campion turned down the hall leading toward the primary Red Lab, leaving Wells and Galati at the four-way intersection, their guns pointed at the door with the biohazard symbol. Slurps, moans, and crunches continued, but slowed, replaced more by snaps and snarls, the sounds of a scuffle.
"I don't think I want to know what those things in there are doing," Sal said to Jupiter Wells, "but it sounds like they're about done."
Wells's SCAR-H trembled in his hands but remained aimed at the slightly ajar door.
"Man, tell me you've been in a more fucked up situation than this. Make some shit up if you have to, I'll believe it."
Sal shook his head. "No, sorry, this is the new benchmark for fucked up."
"What?" Wells turned his head and faced his friend. "You've been telling bullshit stories all these years and the one time I actually want to hear it you've got nothing?"
Sal did not have time to answer. The door with the biohazard label opened and the monsters lurking therein moved out of the shadows and into the bright light of the hall.
Three of them, the tallest maybe over five feet, but each hunched and holding its arms over its face in reaction to light brighter than any they had experienced in all their life. They snarled and growled as if trying to attack the bright.
"Those aren't spiders, man," Wells said as he and his partner instinctively retreated a step and then two. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
Sal answered, and while he tried to sound scientific, reasoned, and in control his words trembled, "Ah, humanoid, bipedal, um, pasty white skin, um—"
"Yeah, that's what I see, too."
The creatures grew as accustomed to the light as possible. One by one their arms lowered.
Eyes almost pure white with only a tiny speck of black where a pupil should be. Mouths full of crooked and jagged teeth. Welts, bruises, sores, and gashes everywhere. Pieces of cloth served as clothing and covered very little of their sickening skin, which seemed like plastic shrink-wrapped over bundles of bones. Blood and gore splashes— the remains of whatever meal they had recently finished — decorated their bodies.
They hissed. They clawed the ground. They braced in preparation to rush.
"Damn it, Sal, are those things … are they human?"
"I … I have no clue. But they kind of look like, Jesus man, they kind of look like—"
"Kids. Yeah, I know. Maybe it's an illusion. You afraid of kids?"
Without taking his eyes from his sights Sal considered, sort of tilted his head and shrugged, saying, "Maybe a little."
The trio of beasts charged the two soldiers, who, as per orders, retreated to draw the action away from the Red Lab and Campion's work.
Thunder and Sanchez found their path to the vestibule blocked by a pair of heavily armed sentries.
"Stand down," she commanded, but she knew, even before the words left her lips, that the command would hold little weight with the guards.
"Sorry, ma'am, General Borman ordered us to not let any one pass, especially you."
Corporal Sanchez apparently knew the two men and addressed them by their first names: "Billy, Ted, remember who’s in charge around here. It’s the colonel. Now stand down."
"Sorry, sir," Billy replied.
Ted sounded more conciliatory as he explained, "Sammy, the general went in there a minute ago. He gave us our orders directly. You know the drill, man, a couple of stars beats an oak leaf any day."