Chapter Twenty-Seven

 

 

Ryan peered through the gap in the steel door Krysty had left. Already the mutant rush of incredible strength was leaving her. Spots of high color dotted her cheeks, and her arms trembled.

 

Often, the aftermath of calling on the power left her depleted of strength. Occasionally it hadn't seemed to affect her at all.

 

"You okay?" he asked gruffly, raking his gaze across the computer systems.

 

"I will be, lover," she said in a shaky voice. "We've got to be moving."

 

"Can you?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Ryan nodded, then stepped through the gap. The only movements were the lights racing across the machinery and the images flickering on the monitor screens. He spotted the door against the far wall with his second look, his perspective blunted by the equipment.

 

Ryan crossed the room, his eye smarting some with the adjustment to the greater light in the nerve center. He switched off the flashlight and slipped it into a pocket.

 

The mat-trans unit was in the corner where he remembered seeing it in the monitor view. All it would take was a matter of minutes to get the others. Then they could make the jump back to Deathlands, leave this mess behind.

 

Except there was the matter of the plague.

 

A heartbeat later he was down the tunnel, going slower than he would have had Krysty not been so exhausted. He'd just reached a sharp corner, where the tunnel sloped down, when the bullet tore through the air above his head and bounced off the root, scarring the fibrous surface.

 

Ryan turned, taking three quick steps back to bring Krysty down with him. Her reflexes were slowed, coming back online with real effort. He squeezed off quick rounds, backing off the sec guards who suddenly filled the mouth of the tunnel they'd passed through.

 

The bullets sent the sec crew dodging back. "Can't stay here," Ryan said. "You're going to have to move on. I'll cover you." He didn't like it that she was going on unprotected, either, but there seemed to be a shortage of choices.

 

"I know, lover."

 

Ryan fed a fresh magazine into the SIG-Sauer and snapped the slide to strip the top round. "You tell me when." He hefted the Steyr and managed to snap off a round that caught one of the sec men in the chest, driving the guy back and down.

 

Krysty dropped to her knees, her eyes rolled back in her head. "Oh, Gaia, he's talking to the Other! The Other is going to set loose the plague! We've got to stop him!"

 

Ryan fired two more rounds, covering the red-haired woman with his body. He felt her convulsing against him, her strength almost more than he could handle.

 

"Gaia, Ryan, can't you sense it? Can't you sense the Other?"

 

Ryan didn't know what she was talking about. But one thing he did knowthey were definitely between a rock and a hard place. Death lay ahead and behind them.

 

 

 

"I SEE THEM!" Turley radioed. In the empty silence filling the tunnel, his voice carried more than Conte would have liked. Of course, there was the matter of the lights they were carrying, too.

 

The sergeant scanned the intersection up ahead, trying to see which way Turley was looking. "Where?"

 

"Up ahead and to the left."

 

"How far?"

 

"Seventy, eighty yards."

 

"They know you're there?"

 

"Don't appear to."

 

"Okay," Conte said, "let's follow them, see if we can box them in somewhere and terminate them." In a way he was surprised Cawdor was going to make it this easy. "How many of them do you see?"

 

"Four."

 

"Cawdor?"

 

"Doesn't appear to be among them."

 

"Close in. He can't be far." Conte moved with his team, listening as Whittaker tracked the sec teams that were vectoring in on them. If Cawdor didn't have a way out figured, the sergeant knew it was possible they were all dead men.

 

 

 

"BEING FOLLOWED," Jak said.

 

"Already noticed them," J.B. replied. The Armorer was running point position, but the group was so close, a couple of strides and he could have reached back and touched the albino.

 

"I, too, thought I saw them," Doc said. "And now, John Barrymore, what is to be done about it? Should we try to make some kind of stand?"

 

"No," the Armorer said. "Won't help Ryan or Krysty. For now we got a lead on them. We work on keeping it."

 

Another turn, though, and he found the way partially blocked by the buckled steel door. A sudden wash of gunfire coming from inside the room beyond whipped over him.

 

The companions went to ground, drawing their weapons. Mildred came up close beside J.B., leaving Doc and Jak paired off. The gunfire trapped inside the room continued.

 

J.B. got close enough to look through the open space of the buckled door. There were five sec men inside the room. Another was stretched out holding his stomach, dying slow, but getting it done just the same. The Armorer didn't need two guesses to figure who the guards were shooting at. He lifted the M-4000 scattergun to his shoulder and sighted in, ready to take advantage of the fact the gunners didn't know they were around. Yet.

 

"Shoot ahead," Jak whispered, "know behind."

 

"Yeah, but I'm aiming to shoot us out of a cross-fire situation," J.B. said. "Providing it can be done. 'Sides, those White Sands soldiers start blasting at us, could be the guards up ahead will think there's more of us."

 

Jak nodded.

 

"You just stand ready to take up some slack at that end," the Armorer said. "Things look like they're about to get a whole lot more interesting. Doc?"

 

"Ready, John Barrymore."

 

J.B. settled his finger over the trigger, taking up slack. "Mildred?"

 

"Yeah." The woman had been curiously quiet after they'd gotten her moving in the direction Krysty and Ryan had gone.

 

J.B. wasn't a man to pry. She wanted to talk about it, she would. He'd never ask. "Ready?"

 

"Sure."

 

"I got the man at twelve o'clock standing in the doorway. Going to work my way left."

 

"I'll take the right." Mildred took a two-handed shooting stance.

 

"There'll be no time for a reload."

 

"I won't need it," she replied.

 

Settling the sights, J.B. stroked the trigger. The load of flechettes streaked forward. The man's head exploded like a pumpkin, spraying blood over the walls and his comrades. Though they were shocked and caught off guard, it didn't take long to react to the threat that had formed on their flank.

 

Then there wasn't anything left to do but the dying and the killing.

 

 

 

"THEY'RE HERE!" Boldt shouted, looking back down the tunnel. He gripped the railing of the platform overlooking the hydroponics vats.

 

The plant-thing turned its head. Something wet and viscous, centrally located in its face as eyes would be, glimmered for a moment as if it were focusing. "There is one among them who knows. This person is a part of the earth, chained to her rhythms. We had not expected this. She senses us somehow."

 

"Merlin!" Boldt screamed.

 

"On-line," the computer's mechanical voice answered.

 

"Kill the intruders!"

 

"Affirmative." Gun ports opened up along the walls, revealing the wicked snouts of weapons.

 

Boldt watched as two shadows came stumbling into the vault room. The wall-mounted machine guns opened fire, blazing a line of bullets toward the two targets.

 

"The plague countdown has begun," the plant-thing said. "Five minutes and counting."

 

Boldt glanced over his shoulder, seeing the red LED numbers flicker into being on the computer ahead of him. He shifted his gaze back to the cryo chambers, then threw himself over the railing.

 

 

 

RYAN HELPED KRYSTY RUN, taking almost half her weight as he pushed hard, shoving them through the other end of the tunnel and into the room beyond. The machine gun fire that greeted them wasn't totally unexpected.

 

The bullets slapped against the steel floor. He charted the movement of the man leaping from the cabinets of water to his side, and the red LED readout ahead of him 455. It didn't take a genius to figure out the why of it.

 

On his knees, bringing up the SIG-Sauer, Ryan protected the red-haired woman with his body. He sighted on the machine gun sweeping toward them. The thing was mounted on gimbals, and possibly they were the weak point.

 

He fired through half the clip, chipping away at the gun port and leaving scars on the edges. Abruptly the machine-gun fire dropped away, sliding out of the groove it had been following.

 

"Krysty!" he yelled, surging up from the floor. From their present position, none of the other weapons could hit them.

 

"I'm here, lover," Krysty said, but her voice was so low it was barely audible above the boom and crash of the weapons fire. "Can't help much. The Other's here, too. He wants in. Wants inside my head. Gaia, it's so hard to keep him out. Trying to put down roots."

 

Ryan didn't want to leave her, but he had no choice. The running man had covered half the floor, and there was still the threat of the sec men that might come pouring from the tunnel. Ryan had recognized J.B.'s and Mildred's handi-work at the other end, emphasized by the shotgun flechettes that suddenly sprouted from the wall after passing through the first man's head.

 

Shoving the blaster behind the nearest computer bank, Ryan gripped the other edge with his free hand and started yanking. The Steyr banged against his side, hanging from its sling.

 

It took real effort, but the computer bank came tumbling down. Sparks flared into bright, brief life as the connections parted.

 

Ryan shoved the hunk of machinery around, creating a shield that Krysty could take cover behind. He pulled her behind it, feeling the metal shudder under the impact of bullets from another machine gun.

 

"Fireblast!" Ryan swore, glancing at the LED readout403. He glanced at Krysty. "I've got to go."

 

"Go." She held a hand to her temples, her other hand still on her pistol.

 

He didn't hesitate, picking up the motion of the other man immediately. He swung in pursuit. Before he took two steps, he felt as if he'd jumped out in front of a fully loaded wag. His breath left his lungs, but he turned, fighting for balance, feeling the blaster leave his fingertips in the sudden onslaught of pain.

 

A bellow of rage rocked hot and heavy in Ryan's ear, punctuated by gunshots that could only have been near misses.

 

Staggering, letting his reflexes take over for him, Ryan pushed himself back. He levered a forearm under the bigger man's chin hard enough to break teeth.

 

"Fucker!" the man screamed as blood dribbled down his chin. He brought his pistol around, still trying to center on his target.

 

Ryan threw his arm up, hearing Krysty's .38 pistol bang in quick succession, and blocked the big man's gun. The weapon went off with deafening reports.

 

The big man was Pepper, head of Boldt's seed heralds. Ryan recognized him now. He gripped the coldheart's wrist, keeping the weapon pointed away from him. The bullets passed within inches, then the hammer fell on empty brass.

 

Water, thick and syrupy, splashed against the backs of Ryan's legs when he moved back. A brief glance showed him the seed herald's bullets had blasted holes in the sides of the hydroponics tanks.

 

"You're going to die, little man," Pepper promised. He shifted his hand on his weapon, preparing to use it like a club.

 

Ryan drew the panga smoothly. He rocked on his feet, neatly avoiding the bigger man's swing. The flat crack of the gun barrel slamming into the vat tank was drowned out almost immediately by Pepper's screams when Ryan opened his abdomen up with the slick kiss of the panga.

 

Intestines slid out onto the floor and coiled around Pepper's feet. Still, his reflexes made him dangerous. One of his huge hands came out and suddenly gripped Ryan by the face.

 

Ryan brought the panga up in a flashing arc, unable to quickly disengage from the big man. He felt the sharp blade bite into Pepper's wrist, and a torrent of blood washed over him. He tried to set his feet but slipped on a length of intestine before he could regain his balance. The back of his head smashed against the hydroponics vat with enough force to shove it through.

 

Cottony blackness threatened to overwhelm Ryan's senses while the thick, vile water, slightly warmer than human skin, poured over his body. The taste was noxious, almost as salty as blood and a lot more greasy.

 

He barely made out the shape of the big man through the bottle green coloring of the water. The edges of the break in the glass were sharp, uneven, jagged teeth waiting to rend his flesh. He couldn't simply duck back through.

 

Pepper was still bellowing in pain, one arm looped around his waist trying in vain to hold his guts in. He was a dead man walking and he knew it.

 

Without warning, wet and slimy tendrils wrapped themselves around Ryan, then started to pull him more deeply into the container, sucking him into the ooze. He kept his mouth shut and slitted his eye. He felt as if he were being dragged through too-warm molasses. Already his lungs were aching for his next breath.

 

The glop poured out around him, slicking his clothing and making it easier for the tendrils to pull him inside the hydroponics chamber. He fought against the strong pull, grabbing fistfuls of the gelatinous tendrils. They felt like phlegm even in the water, breaking easily. But there were always more, sucking, wrapping and writhing around his chest.

 

As he twisted and tried to break free, he saw a sudden matting cover the hole that he'd been pulled through. In heartbeats the leak had been plugged. Other tendrils stopped up the scattered bullet holes. The watery nutrient level had dropped almost a foot, judging from the mark on the glass wall just out of his reach.

 

Ryan raked the panga through the tendrils. His efforts were slowed by the immersion in the liquid. But the tendrils parted at the touch of the blade, floating loose and limp once they'd been amputated. Righting himself with a sweep of his hand, he put his feet against the bottom of the vat and shoved himself up and forward, trying for the nearest wall.

 

He came up out of the nutrient bath in a rush and managed to loop one arm over the side of the tank. The LED counter showed 327.

 

"Ryan!" Krysty yelled. She stood, her gaze fixed hypnotically on the hydroponics chamber.

 

A slithering sound turned Ryan's head. The plant-thing hovering on its stand of vines came closer, seeming almost to fly in the shadows.

 

Krysty fired the .38 pistol in measured beats, emptying the cylinder. None of the bullets missed the plant-thing. Also, none of them did it any harm.

 

Ryan stared into the viscous eyes, saw the alien intelligence radiating hatred at him.

 

Suddenly the plant-thing opened its mouth. A razor-edged thorn, like the ones on the tanglers, came shooting out, hissing straight at Ryan's face.

 

He dropped under the nutrient level. An instant later the thorn splintered the glass where his head had been.

 

Ryan swung the panga, and the blade easily sliced through the vine. A two-foot length dangled down the side of the glass, floating on the liquid.

 

Breathing hard, having a difficult time sucking in air that wasn't filled with droplets of the nutrient-laden water, Ryan grabbed the edge of the tank again, then heaved himself onto the metal platform running around the edge. His hands, feet, elbows and knees were slick, making it hard for him to get upright.

 

The plant-thing was already shifting again, regrouping itself. The time was down to 307. A wicked smile seemed to take form on the plant-thing's lower face, splitting the vines and mucus material. Another thorn materialized, edging out in preparation to be propelled.

 

J.B. rushed into the room, followed immediately by Mildred, Doc and Jak. Krysty was dropping fresh rounds into her pistol.

 

"The glass wall," the red-haired woman said to the companions. "Take it out. In order to stop the plague, we've got to kill the Other."

 

The Armorer set to at once, blasting out rounds from the scattergun. Huge chunks of the glass wall disappeared at once. Mildred added her own firepower, then Doc upped the ante with the .63 scattergun. Jak guarded the tunnel, firing measured shots back down the way they'd come.

 

Huge sections of the glass wall disappeared, shattered into gleaming shards. The carnage was too complete to allow the plant-thing to dam up the holes. It shifted, turning its malignant attention onto the puny humans that had dared attack it.

 

There was a brief pause, then the nutrient bath erupted in a foaming spray of activity. Dozens of rooted tentacles broke the surface, an army bearing thorny weapons.

 

"Dark night!" J.B. breathed, thumbing fresh rounds into the shotgun.

 

Doc took deliberate aim, then fired the Le Mat blaster. The .63 shotgun charge took the plant-thing in the upper left chest but didn't seem to do any damage. "By the Three Kennedys!"

 

A tidal wave rose up over the metal platform where Ryan stood, forced by the sudden surge of the plant-thing tearing itself loose from the root bed. He went with the water, vaulting over the side. Once he landed, almost on top of the gutted seed herald, a quick step left him with the SIG-Sauer in his fist again.

 

He shook out the nearly depleted clip and shoved another one home as the noxious water swirled around his boots. Keeping the plant-thing in sight, he narrowly avoided being impaled by another thorn that came rocketing out of its mouth.

 

Ryan fired three shots, spacing them across the plant-thing's chest. Even in the uncertain light, he could see the holes appear in the greenish black flesh. In an eyeblink they covered over.

 

The clock read 251.

 

The spilled nutrient bath rolled across the floor, shorting out some of the computer banks when it touched them. The plant-thing drew away from the sparks, bringing an arm across its incomplete face.

 

It had a weakness. The realization filled Ryan with a savage satisfaction. "Jak," he called.

 

The albino looked at him. Conversation was made difficult by the roar and splash of the nutrient waters and the collapse of the computer systems.

 

"The flare gun you found at the White Sands redoubt," Ryan said. He held out an empty hand.

 

Jak reached into his pack, then flipped the waterproof case for the pistol toward Ryan.

 

Leathering the SIG-Sauer, Ryan caught the case, bringing it in close so he wouldn't drop it. With the rush of waters swirling through the room, it could wash away and be lost in a matter of seconds.

 

The LED readout was down to 241.

 

Ryan opened the case. Inside was the flare gun and three cartridges.

 

"The Other won't rest until we're dead, lover." Krysty was less than a yard away, her haggard gaze resting fully on the approaching plant-thing. She was reloading her pistol methodically.

 

"We aren't dead yet," Ryan replied, snapping the flare pistol closed. "Just you hang on." He spun, leveling the weapon before him.

 

The plant-thing was twenty yards out and closing, bristling with the thorned appendages that came with it.

 

"The bastard thing wants me, lover. I can hear its thoughts inside my head. Somehow it knows about my mutie powers. It knows."

 

Ryan aimed for the center of the plant-thing, then stroked the trigger. The flare leaped free of the barrel, streaking across the distance in an eye blink, trailing out a smoky haze behind it.

 

Once the flare embedded in the plant flesh, it burned white-hot. Computer-amplified screams from the plant-thing filled the chamber. It stopped all forward movement, wilting in place. Tendrils shot out of its chest, dipping down to start sucking up the water around it. The flare hissed.

 

Reloading quickly, Ryan fired the remaining two flares into the thing's chest. They burned more holes and added to the screams. The plant-thing wilted even further, but gave no indication of dying.

 

Ryan glanced at the clock231. "Boldt," he said, looking at J.B.

 

"Don't know," the Armorer said. "Wasn't here when we got here."

 

"Who's in the tunnel?"

 

Jak was still trading lead with someone, though the forays weren't very industrious.

 

"Those White Sands soldiers," J.B. replied.

 

"They are a tenacious lot, Ryan," Doc commented. "Filled with vim and vigor."

 

Across the room the plant-thing showed signs of regaining its strength. Ryan watched it, his stomach cold and hard. A glance at Krysty at his side showed that she was pale, covered with perspiration that ran in large drops.

 

"It wants me to help it," Krysty said. "Wants me to kill you." Her pistol trembled in her hands. "Gaia, help me, Ryan, but I don't think I can hold it off much longer." A fine trickle of blood ran down her upper lip from her nose.

 

Ryan saw the sheen suddenly dilate inside the red-haired woman's eyes. Without warning, Krysty brought the gun around toward him.

 

"I'm sorry, lover," she said in a barely audible whisper.