The Trench Page 10

  Caulfield started convulsing. Brubaker went to his side and held him down. “Menowski! Help me here!”

  Menowski slung his rifle and grabbed Caulfield by the shoulders while Brubaker injected the spasming marine with an emergency syringe.

  “He’s not breathing!” Menowski yelled.

  Brubaker pressed his fingers against the swollen mass of Caulfield’s neck. “Open his shirt!”

  The medic stabbed Caulfield in the chest with an epinephrine shot, injecting adrenaline straight into his heart.

  “Starting compressions,” Brubaker announced and began rhythmically pushing on Caulfield’s chest.

  “What can we do?” Nicole asked, pushing past Menowski.

  “Back off,” the marine snapped. “Let Brew do his job!”

  “Nicole, we’ll collect those samples,” Michael said.

  The corridor stank of brine and acrid chemicals. They carefully scraped lumps of the jelly into the containers and sealed them tight.

  “I hope this is enough,” Nicole said.

  “Project Galahad…” Michael muttered. “What the hell were they thinking?”

  “Human immortality.” Gretchen stepped out of the darkness, her naked body shimmering like liquid diamond.

  Chapter 18

  “Gretchen?” Michael just about whooped in surprised delight. “You’re–” he wanted to say alive! and in a sense, she was. Alive, but no longer human.

  “Project Galahad. Years of experimentation, analysis, and finally a break through. Serendipity they call it.”

  “An accident that has a beneficial outcome,” Michael interrupted.

  “Always so eager to explain, Michael. Always talking over others, arrogantly proving your greater knowledge and your greater worth.”

  “My worth isn’t that great. I have credit card debt and I’m all out of research grant funds.”

  “The immortality of certain hydrozoans has been known. The Japanese research proved it in a laboratory environment. Yet, the focus has always been on the genetic manipulation of human stem cells. I am proof that there is a better way.”

  “You’re a walking Jell-O mold,” Nicole snapped.

  “I am undergoing a metamorphosis. The butterfly becomes the larvae, and then a butterfly again.”

  “You hate bugs,” Michael replied, slowly backing away with Nicole behind him.

  “It feels incredible, Michael. You can be part of the next stage of human evolution. Stay with me; your expertise in hydrozoan biology will be an asset to our ongoing research program.”

  “You are offering me a job, even now?”

  “Of course, why else would you have been brought here?”

  “We were told there was some kind of accident, a problem that needed our… Oh…” Nicole went pale.

  “Nicole Saint-Clair, world authority on evolutionary genetics. Who better to guide Michael through the delicate forest of rapidly evolving DNA?”

  “You and Mister Suit arranged all this? You brought us here to work on this insanity?”

  “Regrettably, before you arrived, a new species of hydrozoan was collected and it proved to be difficult to contain. Saul went rogue and contacted our command structure. They arranged for the Navy to send in armed marines. This new hydrozoan showed a remarkable ability to infiltrate and control the human nervous system. This integration was not always successful and there were casualties, which accelerated the breakdown of less suitable specimens.”

  “You mean, people. You are talking about people,” Michael replied.

  “Some died; others were damaged beyond repair. We needed to maintain control of the facility until you arrived. Now you are here, and you will join us. This species was an unexpected interruption to the research program. However, you are here now, and we will regain control.”

  Nicole had reached the door. She raised her voice, hoping to alert the marines inside. “I have to say, Gretchen, for someone who is infected, your plan has some serious flaws!”

  Shadows moved on the other side of the frosted glass. Nicole tensed, glancing towards Michael, who nodded slightly. They threw themselves flat and the glass wall exploded in a storm of MP5 rounds.

  Gretchen shrieked and bolted into the darkness down the hallway. The marines came through the shattered wall and checked on the civilians.

  “My ex-wife,” Michael managed. “She’s like the queen bitch jellyfish.”

  “Yeah, I was married once,” Nato replied.

  Nicole lifted her head from the floor. “We got the samples. Can we destroy this place and get out in time?”

  Nato thought for a moment. “Brubaker has the Death Valley activation codes. We need to have a way out first.”

  “Easy. We go back down to level seven and you guys can contact the submarine and we walk out of here.” Nicole climbed to her feet.

  “Caulfield’s gone,” Brubaker said, stepping into the ringed circle of flashlight beams.

  “Ooh rah,” Menowski murmured.

  “We might not be able to get back to the sub,” Nato continued. “Levels four and five are flooded, and if they have been breached, the pumps are offline until we can get the power back on. Even then…”

  “Why can’t we just talk to the sub?” Michael asked. “Get them on the radio or something?”

  “Communications went down fifteen minutes after the first fire-team came in. We never heard from them again,” Brubaker said.

  “There must be a contingency plan? You have a way of contacting the sub, right?” Nicola asked.

  “Communications in a structure like this are complicated. Radio signals don’t penetrate. Wired communications work fine, but they’ve been offline since before we arrived.”

  “What was your plan? Once you completed your mission?” Michael asked.

  Brubaker sighed. “Walk out the way we came in. If the flooding can’t be controlled, then we are not going to be able to do that. There are other ways out.”

  “Other ways out?” Nicole prompted.

  “Emergency egress, life boats if you like. They are emergency submersibles that have limited range and function, but in a pinch will allow you to move around outside the facility.”

  “Will they get us to the surface?”

  “No way in Hell. You would need to depressurize for days, and the air-cleaning systems, not to mention the batteries, would never survive long enough for you to reach the surface. If something went wrong and you came up too fast, you’d die pretty damn quickly.”

  “Okay,” Michael said. “We take our samples, check if the lower levels are still accessible, and then we get out and get the mother ship to come and pick us up. Easy.”

  Brubaker didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “Nato, with me. We’re going down to level seven to asses flooding. If that’s all good, we log in and start the Death Valley Protocol. Then, we go home.”

  “Ooh rah!” Menowski and Lewis chanted.

  Chapter 19

  The noise of the water flooding down the stairwell from level four was deafening.

  Nato leaned in and yelled to be heard, “With the power out, we have no pumps!”

  “The backup generators are designed to be a failsafe!” Brubaker shouted.

  “Yeah, but they only work if they know the power system is down. If the computer was messed with, it might have never activated the backup systems.”

  “Can we fix it?” Brubaker shouted.

  “I dunno.” Nato didn’t like to make promises.

  Brubaker went back to staring at the open door that led to level four. The volume of water pouring through the gap meant that they had a leak somewhere in that level. This was fresh sea water. The entire Pacific Ocean was coming in, and it would keep coming in until the entire base was flooded. “No sign of any infected. If we can get that door closed, we’ll head up to the utilities control on level two! See if we can’t get the pumps back on line!”

  Nato nodded, and they warily stepped down into the freezing water. With each step, it rose ov
er their boots and then swirled around their knees. At the landing, the water was thigh deep and close to freezing.

  Both marines scanned their surroundings constantly. A battle-honed awareness of danger kept them on edge and ready to react without thinking. Nato reached the door first and started to push. The water pouring through carried tons of weight with it. Brubaker took a last glance around and then joined Nato in pushing against the flood.

  A hand of swollen flesh, wrinkled and grey from long exposure to the water, curled around the door from the other side.

  “Fuck!” Brubaker shouted. “Too much water coming through!”

  Gesturing to Nato, they stepped back and retreated up the stairs as the rising water followed their boots. An infected man squeezed through the gap, his water-logged skin peeling like old wallpaper as it tore against the steel of the half-open door.

  Nato opened fire. His first round ricocheted off the bulkhead and went into the water. The second shot shattered the infected man’s nose and tore a chunk out of the back of his skull.

  They didn’t have to wait long for more infected to reach the door. The strong current swept them off their feet and they piled up against the door. Writhing and slithering over each other, they struggled to get through.

  “Maybe they will dam up the flow?” Nato shouted.

  “I’m not sure we could be that fucking lucky!”

  *

  “Now the rifle is loaded, and you can click the safety from fire to safe,” Menowski instructed the two scientists. “Always treat a firearm as if it were loaded. Never pick one up unless you are prepared to fire it. These are military-issue M16A2s; you have an extra setting for full automatic that you don’t find on civilian assault rifles. Do not turn the fire selector to full automatic. You will just be wasting ammunition.”

  The marine unloaded the rifle, his movements almost a blur. “Any questions?”

  Nicole and Michael hesitated. “Could you run through that one more time?” Michael asked.

  Menowski started again from the beginning, identifying the parts of the rifle, the ways it came together, and the key steps to loading and readying it to fire.

  The scientists were working through the steps on their own when Nato and Brubaker came back from their trip to the lower levels.

  “No sign of your ex-wife,” Brubaker said before Michael could ask. “Okay, listen up. The pumps are out with the power being down. The backup generators are offline. We need to find out why. Nato and I are going up to the utility control room on level two, see if we can get the pumps online.”

  “How can we help?” Nicole asked.

  “Are you an engineer? Mechanical? Electrical? Computer technician?” Brubaker asked.

  “I can change the oil in my car,” Nicola said.

  Brubaker stifled a grin. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Michael swept a hand through his hair. “We can stay here and keep reviewing the paper files we found, see if we can learn anything else about this organism.”

  “Menowski, keep them safe. We will be back ASAP.”

  “Aye,” Menowski replied. “All right, Squints. Let’s get back to rifle drills.”

  *

  At the top of the stairs leading to level two, a sign warned against unauthorized entry. It also declared that danger and high voltage were locked away behind the reinforced door.

  The all-access pass card cleared the way, and the two marines stepped into a silent chamber lined with racks of high-capacity batteries.

  “These are all charged at least… seventy percent,” Nato said.

  “Here’s your problem.” Brubaker crouched at a cable conduit in the floor. The plastic grille over the concrete trench had been forced up and the pipe underneath was hacked open.

  “I’ve found the murder weapon,” Nato announced, his flashlight catching the gleam of a discarded fire axe.

  “Sonnovabitch,” Brubaker muttered.

  “If the generators are shut off, and the power cable to the batteries is cut, why didn’t the backup generators kick in?” Nato asked.

  “Because we are dealing with assholes,” Brubaker said.

  The continued their search of the room, passing the floor-to-ceiling shelves of batteries and coming to another door. Further warning labels reminded them that they had no right to be here, and proceeding past this point was not an option.

  Brubaker’s pass card worked its magic and the magnetic locks clicked open.

  The smell of burned plastic and flesh stung their nostrils. “Something died in here,” Brubaker said.

  “Body, two o’clock,” Nato replied.

  The woman showed signs of electrical burns on her hands that had charred her fingers to blackened sticks. The scorch marks on her arms showed where the arcing current had rippled up her limbs until it fried her brain and set her hair on fire.

  Brubaker nudged the body with his foot. “Dead,” he confirmed and then dragged her out of the way.

  “Maybe she tripped the circuit breakers?” Nato suggested. He pointed his flashlight towards a metal box on the wall; black scorch marks radiating out from it indicated an electrical explosion.

  Brubaker opened the box, the smell of scorched insulation stronger now. “I hope this works.” He flicked the first of five circuit breakers, and then when he didn’t die, went on and reset the others.

  “Well, that didn’t work,” Nato said.

  Brubaker frowned and then pushed a large red button. A deep humming sound thrummed around them and the lights began to glow the color of concentrated piss.

  They waited, watching the lights as the generators powered up and the light gained strength.

  “Houston, we have lift-off,” Brubaker said.

  “If the connection to the batteries isn’t fucked,” Nato replied.

  “Have faith, man.”

  “Never seen the point,” Nato said.

  In the battery room, rows of green LEDs were blinking as the cells sucked up the voltage flowing through them.

  Tapping the keyboard on a console, Brubaker brought the screen to life. “Power’s back on in all sections,” he confirmed.

  “Fuckin’ A.”

  “Hey, there’s security monitors here.” Brubaker pulled out a chair and brought the screens online.

  “Shit. Nothing,” Brubaker said.

  “Water must have shorted them out.”

  “I hope the pumps are working.”

  Nato nodded. “Ready to end this party?”

  “Check.” Brubaker dug in his fatigues and pulled out a red plastic card. Peeling a sticker off it, he bent the card until it cracked along a line. Pulling the two sections apart, Brubaker extracted a printed code.

  Tapping on the computer terminal keyboard, he accessed the Death Valley Protocol screen. There were no instructions, no warnings; just a blinking cursor where the activation code could be entered. Taking a deep breath, Brubaker read off the card and typed with one finger. Sixteen characters. Then a second screen with an Activate Death Valley Protocol Yes or No button.

  Brubaker clicked the “Yes” button firmly.

  The screen now showed the following message, Death Valley Protocol activated. 30:00… 29:59… 29:58…

  “Thirty-minute countdown has been activated,” Brubaker said.

  Readying their rifles, the two marines left the utility control room and headed down past level three and on to level four.

  The makeshift dam of squirming bodies had been eroded by the flood. A severed arm swirled in an eddy, bumping against glistening chunks of grey skin and meat. The water level was holding, but the levels below were fully flooded.

  “Pumps aren’t going to make enough of a difference if we can’t close that door!” Brubaker yelled.

  “We should just get the fuck out!” Nato yelled back.

  Turning his back on the swirling water, Brubaker nodded. The power being back on was a step in the right direction, but they needed to leave the doomed facility before the countdown expired.
“Back to Menowski and the squints!” he yelled.

  A figure rose out of the dark water, torn marine fatigues hanging in strips from the body. It lunged and wrapped its arms around Brubaker’s neck and chest. Heaving backwards, the infected marine sank his teeth into the medic’s neck and they crashed down into the water as Nato opened fire, his shots striking the water in a row of sharp splashes.

  “Brubaker!” he yelled. “Brew!”

  Nato wavered, looking for any sign that the medic might resurface. After a couple of minutes of nothing but more grey flesh twisting on the current, he backed away up the stairs.

  Chapter 20

  “Menowski!” Nato announced his presence when he reached the level three corridor.

  “Here!” Menowski replied, appearing out of the storeroom with his rifle casually ready. “Hey, where’s Brew?”

  “Infected got him. Brubaker’s KIA.”

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” Menowski turned in a tight circle. “Well, that’s just fucking great! What the fuck are we going to do now?”

  “We are going to keep our shit together,” Nato said firmly. “You’re a marine, not a fucking pussy, and we are not done yet.”

  “Brew was good people,” Menowski said.

  “Ooh rah. Didn’t your recruitment officer warn you that this job could get you killed?”

  “Nah, that asshole said I would get a college education and a government pension.”

  “How are our civilians?”

  “Armitage is taking a shower. The chick is having some chow.”

  “DVP is active. We have twenty minutes to get out.”

  “I’ll tell the squints to stow their shit,” Menowski replied.

  Nato pulled out his copy of the facility map and ran his finger over it.

  Behind manual bulkheads at various points, there were narrow shafts with ladders that could be sealed off at each level. The shafts connected to a series of sealed chambers where emergency submarines were supposed to be available to evacuate survivors.

  It would be enough to get them back safely into the open water. Once they were outside the radio-signal-blocking shell of thick concrete, steel and stone, contacting the submarine for pickup would be easy.