The Trench Page 5

  “To avoid raising suspicions, we kept enough data flowing. We kept some of our local data on tape. They’re in a secure locker off an empty lab on this level.”

  Michael blinked. “That’s your plan? You think you have some information that will buy you a ticket off the island?”

  “We’re not on an island,” Gretchen replied.

  “We’re cut off in a remote location with no easy way of returning to the world. We are on a fucking island,” Michael said.

  “Semantics aside,” Gretchen said. “We should recover that data and anything else we can find to buy our way out of here.”

  “I’m not sure that will be enough,” Nicole said. “Someone tried to kill us on the way here.”

  They listened in silence as she recounted the events leading to their covert departure from Hawaii and the strange briefing with the man in the suit.

  “Then the chopper was sabotaged and the crew was shot. We got rescued by a goddamned US Navy submarine,” Michael explained. “There is nothing OK about any of this. The entire mission is a complete cluster-fuck. That’s a military term, right?” He looked at Gretchen who closed her eyes and sighed.

  “I knew it,” Bernard said. “We are so very fucked. This entire thing is being black-booked. No traces, no accountability. Zero witnesses. We step out and they will shoot us down and flood the entire facility.”

  “There must be a way to escape?” Nicole looked up. “I mean, where are we exactly?”

  Bernard snorted. “There’s no way out of here, except the way you came in.”

  “What he means,” Sue picked up the dropped thread of conversation as Bernard slumped, “is that you are currently twelve-thousand feet below the surface. We are deep in the Kermadec Trench. There is nothing down here; just us and the life forms that have been crawling around in the abyss for millions of years. We’re so far away from our world, we may as well be on Mars.”

  “Gee, if only the cockroach astronauts were still here, I’m sure they could fly us home,” Nicola said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “If they were here, the military might actually come back to save them. Humans are expendable. Super smart roaches? Probably not.”

  “I hear something.” Sue tensed, her body almost quivering as she listened.

  Chapter 9

  “No sign of them, Sarge.” Troye stood to attention, his eyes fixed on the wall opposite, not blinking as Sergeant Nolan glared at him from two inches away.

  “Sarge isn’t here right now. You are addressing Sergeant Nolan, Marine. You were ordered to protect and escort the civilian scientists, Troye.”

  “Yes, Sergeant.”

  “If they are dead, we have failed one of our mission parameters. Do you want to fail one of our mission parameters?” Nolan spoke in a cold whisper.

  “No, Sergeant.”

  “Then get the fuck out there and find them. Bring them back to me and do not, I repeat, do-fucking-not, fuck this up.”

  “Yes, Sergeant.”

  “Brubaker, is our remaining civilian ready to move?”

  “Yes, Sarge.”

  Cross didn’t react when Brubaker spoke to her. He ended up taking her arm and standing her up. “C’mon, lady, time to go.”

  “Let’s move.” Nolan led his team out into the corridor and past the corpses that steamed under the dripping fire sprinkler system.

  They opened each locked door in turn, checking each room on level seven in a routine they had drilled a hundred times.

  “This section is clear, Sarge,” Troye reported.

  Nolan unfolded a laminated sheet retrieved from his combat vest. “There’s a corridor on the other side of this section. We’re wasting time, keep moving.”

  “Yes, Sergeant.”

  With Nato on point, the squad crossed into the parallel corridor. He signaled when he heard voices, low and intense from behind a closed door.

  The squad took up their positions, ready to breach and secure the room. At Nolan’s go-signal, they smashed the door in with a single kick.

  “Get down! Get down!” the squad filled the room, yelling instructions and shoving Bernard and Sue to the floor.

  Michael hesitated for a moment and then went to the floor too.

  “Nolan? It’s us! Armitage and Saint-Clair!” Nicole yelled from where she was being pressed, face down, into the concrete.

  “Got a wounded woman back here!” Nato yelled.

  “Anything else?” Nolan replied.

  “Clear!” the marine reported.

  “Who are you people?” Nolan demanded.

  Introductions were made quickly. Bernard and Sue’s identity was verified by a quick check of the photo ID cards they carried.

  “I’m Sergeant Nolan, US Marines. We have orders to secure and this facility.”

  “Sergeant, Lieutenant Gretchen Armitage, US Navy. I’m part of the security assignment for this facility.”

  “Lieutenant.” Nolan snapped a salute. Gretchen returned it.

  “Your ride still docked?” Gretchen asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We can’t leave yet. This facility is experiencing a medical emergency. We are under quarantine until the source of the infectious agent is confirmed and isolated.”

  “My orders are different, Lieutenant.”

  “And what are your orders, Sergeant?”

  “Secure the facility. Prevent any compromised personnel from leaving. Obtain a sample of whatever is causing the infection and return with it to the boat.”

  “Sounds reasonable. You have any clue what is going on?”

  “Ma’am, so far my men and I have encountered people suffering some kind of psychotic rabies, and a woman who is in deep shock.”

  “It’s not rabies,” Bernard said.

  “Excuse me?” Nolan turned on him.

  “It’s not rabies. Rabies presents in an entirely different way. There’s no fever with this condition, no photophobia, no hydrophobia.”

  “Goddamned place is full of squints,” Troye muttered.

  Nolan pondered for a moment. “All right, Brubaker, check the lieutenant’s wound. Put the civilians in here, we complete our sweep and pick them up on the way out.”

  “Aye, Sarge.”

  The squad made ready to move out. Cross was put in a corner, where she sat, smiling blankly and staring at nothing.

  Nolan checked the hallway. “Brubaker, Caulfield, stay here and provide security to the civilians and the lieutenant. Rest of you, with me.”

  In the silence left after the squad’s departure, Michael could hear his own breath. He wondered how long he had been holding it.

  “How long are they going to be?” Nicole asked.

  Gretchen waved a hand. “There’s seven levels to this facility. We are in level seven, the basement. The top two are facilities plant. Water reclamation, power generation, air-conditioning. Not a lot of space to move around. That means they have four levels to search for survivors and the infected. They’ll be away for a few hours at least. I suggest you get some sleep.”

  Nicole shivered. Right now she was sure she would never sleep again.

  Chapter 10

  A woman’s body lay twisted on the landing, her neck broken and a dried pool of bodily fluids crusted around her.

  “She one of ours?” Nolan asked.

  Menowski straightened up. “Negative, ID says she’s Leanne Carbello.”

  “Keep moving; watch for Tangoes.”

  Menowski stepped over the corpse and moved up the stairs, his M16 raised and sweeping the concrete stairs ahead. At the next landing, he moved to cover the stairs that went up while the rest of the squad took their positions.

  A solid steel door with a round window of thick glass and a locking wheel in the center of it blocked access to the floor off the stairwell.

  “Level six, Sarge,” Menowski spoke into his radio.

  “Check. Open it up and let’s take a look.”

  Nato and Menowski covered the door
while Lewis and Brubaker turned the wheel on the steel door. As it opened, water poured out around their feet

  “Got some kind of leak up here, Sarge,” Troye reported.

  “How bad is it?”

  “Few inches. Barely get your boots wet.”

  “Try not to drown, Troye.” Nolan came up the stairs behind his squad.

  The marines went through the door, stepping each way and covering the corridor in both directions. The main lights were out on this floor; only the red emergency egress lighting in wire cages on the wall still glowed.

  “Check this shit out.” Nato nodded towards a line of bullet holes along a wall.

  “Marines,” Lewis said. “Ain’t no one else got them steady hands.”

  “Except maybe your mom,” Troye said automatically.

  “Tangoes.” Lewis pulled his rifle in tight and sighted down the barrel. In the shadows, dark figures rose from where they knelt on the floor.

  “What are they doing? Praying to Allah or some shit?” Troye asked.

  “Get down! On your knees! Put your hands behind your head!” Nato shouted at the advancing people. They kept coming, walking with their eyes open and unblinking into the beams of the marine’s flashlights.

  “Light ‘em up,” Nolan ordered.

  The steady crack of weapons fire filled the air. Dull echoes rebounded off the walls and each shot was on target, dropping the advancing infected by blowing out the back of their skulls.

  “Tangoes down,” Lewis confirmed.

  With careful steps, the marines moved down the corridor, checking each corpse as they passed.

  At the next intersection, they looked both ways. More bodies lay floating in the shallow water. Nato sighted in on the nearest one and mentally dared it to move. The body took the dare and lifted his dripping head. Nato fired, the shot punching a hole in the rising figure’s skull. The man dropped with a splash. Others started standing, low guttural sounds coming from a dozen throats.

  “We got more behind us,” Lewis warned.

  “Put them down. Put them all down,” Nolan ordered.

  Lewis opened fire. This wasn’t combat; it wasn’t even range shooting. This was like shooting fish in a very shallow barrel.

  The infected lumbered towards them, starting to run when whatever was left of their brains sent the message to their bodies to kill and devour the marines gunning them down.

  “Watch your backs!” Menowski reminded his comrades. He took the wall opposite Lewis and matched him shot for shot.

  “Reloading,” Troye shouted. He reached for a new magazine and slapped it into his rifle. In that few seconds of distraction, the door beside him opened and a woman pounced with a gurgling snarl.

  “Fuck!” Troye yelled. Splashing in the dark water, he punched his attacker in the face. The woman’s teeth snapped at his face, biting into the gloves he wore.

  Lewis aimed. “Can’t get a clear shot!”

  Nolan stormed past the marine and kicked the snarling woman in the head. She tumbled away and Troye scrambled to his feet. Lewis fired twice, busting the infected woman’s skull with each shot.

  “Shape up, Troye!” Nolan yelled.

  “Yes, Sarge!”

  More infected came out of the room, stumbling over each other and landing in the water. Troye opened fire, burning with embarrassment from Nolan’s reprimand. The squad hammered the infected with controlled fire.

  In less than a minute, the charge was broken and a pile of fresh corpses lay at their feet.

  “The fuck is this shit?” Lewis asked.

  “What you got?” Nolan replied.

  Lewis gestured with the muzzle of his rifle at a white lump pulsing in a gaping head wound. “I seen brains before, Sarge. That ain’t brains.”

  Nolan scowled. His briefing had been short on details, but he understood that anything strange was to be secured and returned to the mainland for further study.

  “Troye, Nato, cover me.” Nolan unslung the rucksack on his back and retrieved a steel cylinder with a biohazard sticker in bright yellow on the outside. Twisting it open, he retrieved a pair of steel tongs from inside and grabbed the pulsing lump. It stilled for a moment and he pulled on it. Nolan was surprised by the way it resisted, as if gripping the inside of the dead man’s head.

  “What the fuck is that, Sarge?” Lewis moved in for a closer look.

  “I have no fucking idea,” Nolan said quietly. The white jelly-like lump came away from the dead man, long translucent tendrils stretching all the way inside the cooling wound.

  The threads went taut as Nolan tugged, then in an instant, they snapped, whipping around, using the momentum to rip free from the pincer grip and hit Nolan in the face.

  “Fuck!” Nolan yelled. He dropped the container and dragged at the mess clinging to his face.

  Troye and the others started laughing.

  “Shit, Sarge! I think it likes you!”

  Nolan scraped at the jelly with one hand. It slithered across his skin and the tendrils slipped around his neck. The wet blob slid up his cheek and pressed against his ear.

  “Get this fucking thing off me!”

  Lewis stopped laughing as Nolan’s expression went from shock to sudden pain.

  “Shit, Sarge?”

  Nolan convulsed, his back arching and his weapon dropping with a splash as the lump pulsed on the side of his head.

  “Sarge?” Lewis snatched the white jelly and yelped, shaking his gloved hand. “Fucking thing stung me right through my fucking glove!”

  Nolan went rigid, his lips pulling back from his gritted teeth in a rictus grin. Froth hissed out of his mouth and he toppled backwards. The sergeant’s head struck the wall with a dull thud and he slid to the floor.

  Nato slapped the marine next to him on the shoulder. “Troye! Get Brubaker! Now damnit!”

  Troye stared in shock at Nolan and then nodded, running down the corridor towards the stairwell.

  Lewis slung his rifle and crouched to check on Nolan. “Do not touch him!” Nato yelled.

  “The fuck, man? Sarge is injured!”

  “Whatever the fuck that is, it came out of one of those crazy motherfuckers. You don’t want to catch what they have.”

  “No fucking way.” Lewis stood up and aimed his rifle at Nolan, who lay still in the water.

  “Don’t shoot him either,” Nato warned. “He’s still Sergeant Nolan.”

  “The fuck is going on here, Nato?” Lewis looked genuinely unsettled for the first time since they disembarked.

  “Fuck if I know, man. But we keep our shit tight. Brubaker will fix the Sarge.”

  “This isn’t what we do, man. Shooting sick people, getting fucked up by some weird boogers.”

  “What we do is follow orders.” Nato glanced up and down the corridor. “We should find somewhere dry to make the sergeant comfortable.”

  “I don’t think we should leave him,” Lewis replied.

  “He’s not going anywhere. With me, marine.” Nato moved off into the darkness, scanning the corridor with his flashlight, ready to fire on anything that came at him.

  Chapter 11

  Muffled voices, an urgent conversation, and then running feet moving away down the corridor.

  “What the fuck was that?” Bernard asked.

  No one rushed for the door. It fell to Michael to open it and peer outside. “The marines are gone,” he reported.

  Slipping out, Michael stood with his back against the corridor wall as the others silently followed.

  Gretchen had drawn a heavy automatic pistol from somewhere. Michael couldn’t guess the make, model, or caliber. She prepped it with a casual and professional ease.

  “The level seven labs are this way,” Bernard said, indicating with the hissing muzzle of the flamethrower.

  “Lead the way,” Gretchen said.

  *

  The lights flickered on in a strobe of fluorescent charge. Bernard swept the laboratory with the flamethrower, making Michael uneasy about what
would happen if he squeezed the trigger and unleashed a storm of fire on the well-stocked shelves of chemicals.

  “Where’s the lock up?” Nicole asked.

  “Through there.” Sue stepped around Bernard and hurried across the room. She stopped to key a code into a panel and twisted the handle. “Give me one–” The door exploded in a storm of snarling teeth and flailing hands.

  Sue screamed as the infected poured out of the next room. A marine with a facemask of congealed blood howled and threw himself at the woman. Sue went down, beating the shit out of the man until he sank his teeth into her cheek and ripped the flesh away in a dripping chunk.

  Bernard screamed and jerked on the trigger of his flamethrower. The muzzle flared and choked, a puff of flame fading to smoke.

  “Shit!” he yelled and fumbled for the pump lever at the bottom of the tank. Working it frantically, he kept looking at the jam of squirming bodies in the doorway.

  “I could use some fucking help here!”

  Gretchen put her pistol to the head of the marine savaging Sue’s corpse. She squeezed the trigger, and his body jerked in a spray of brain and bone.

  The knot of struggling bodies spewed blood and snarls as Gretchen started shooting into them. Heads exploded and blood spurted as the rounds hit their targets with lethal accuracy.

  “Shut the fucking door!” Bernard yelled.

  Michael ran across the room, skidding in a pool of blood and crashing into a glass door cabinet on the wall. He stumbled and threw his weight against the door.

  “Nicole! Help me here!”

  Nicole had been standing in mute shock, staring at Sue’s torn remains. She shook herself and ran to help Michael. Gretchen’s gun clicked dry.

  “I’m out!” she reported with a chilling calm.

  Bernard triggered the flamethrower and spewed burning fuel into the doorway. Behind the door, Michael and Nicole cringed against the surge in heat. The room quickly filled with the black-smoke stench of burning flesh.

  “Bernard! Ease off! Cease fire!” Gretchen had crouched low under the smoke. Nicole felt the pressure on the door ease and she slumped down, covering her face with a sleeve.