To his horror, the human conscripts did not respond to his commands.

Something is not right, he thought as he counted the number of overseers still standing. Then it dawned on him.

By Abraxas, the conscripts have turned against us.

 

SIXTEEN - Heart of Darkness

“Johnny, cut us a nice hole in that grate there,” Saul said.

“Aye aye, cap’n.” Johnny rummaged through his rucksack and produced a small ion torch, then made his way to the tunnel’s yawning maw and began the painstaking process of cutting through each of the iron bars. One by one they fell aside as he made cuts at both top and bottom.

Letho felt that watching Johnny made the waiting worse, so he looked away. His thoughts drifted to his friends. He hoped they were still alive.

Johnny placed his index finger and thumb against his teeth and whistled. The razorback edged forward into the mouth of the tunnel, and Johnny leapt into the back of the razorback, stowing his gear and taking his seat. One of the iron bars dug into the razorback’s metal hide, screeching as it tore away a curl of steel.

“Damn it, Johnny!” Saul shouted.

Johnny shrugged. “Hey, what can you do? It’s dark out here. If you wanted an expert, you should have brought Tiny.”

The razorback’s headlights chewed up the darkness that threatened to drown them. The tunnel was squat and rectangular, but with plenty of clearance for the razorback. Ancient pictograms, applied with spray cans, adorned the walls. Those who could decipher their meaning had long since passed. Occasionally they would pass a hovel or lean-to, and discarded pots and pans.

Things must have gotten really bad up there if people were choosing to live down here.

Letho thought of flash floods, the tunnels filling to the brim with roiling brown-white water, flushing out anything not bolted down.

“In five hundred feet, turn left,” Saladin said.

“That sword of yours sure is handy,” Saul said.

“Hey, do you guys hear that?” Johnny cocked an ear.

“Nope. All I hear is the purring of this sweet baby,” Saul replied, caressing the razorback’s dashboard

“Saul, stop the razorback for a second,” Johnny said.

“I don’t think that’s a wise decision.”

“Now I hear it, too,” said Letho. “It sounds like scratching or something, far off. Saladin, you want to weigh in on this one?”

“Sensors are picking up a large number of organisms moving in this direction. Bioscans are similar to previous samplings. Mutants, I believe you call them.”

“Shit!” Saul shouted.

Out of the darkness behind them, tiny fireflies began to appear, bobbing up and down in steady rhythm. The irregular patter of contorted feet and claws scraping against stone began to crescendo.

“Saul, you might want to pick up the pace a little bit,” Letho said.

“Roger that.”

Johnny began to rummage through his rucksack, producing a flashlight.

“Johnny, don’t—” Letho began.

But Johnny lit the halogen and swung the taut photon beam around to the rear of the razorback, illuminating the nightmare visages of hundreds of mutants. Their shriek was a combination of squalling infant and grinding metal. Letho felt an overwhelming urge to drop to the floor of the razorback and clamp his hands over his ears. Anything to stifle the horrible screeching.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” shouted Johnny, throwing open one of the crates and tossing assault rifles to Saul and Letho.

Letho and Johnny immediately opened fire at the swarm behind them, and the thunderous tattoo of rifle fire covered the screams of the falling mutants. They tumbled and collapsed in piles, but always more would come, clambering over fallen brothers, snarling, ropes of gray spittle clinging to their snapping jaws. Saul was shouting something, but Letho couldn’t hear him over the roar of his assault rifle. Saladin illuminated his targets and assisted his aim; not a bullet was wasted.

Headshot every time, he thought, sick to his stomach.

A frontal impact rocked the razorback, and it began fishtailing, almost throwing Letho over the edge. All at once he saw bodies of several mutants flying over his head, and the bloody, sinewy trail the razorback was leaving. Wheels spun and screamed, fighting for purchase on the gut-slick floor of the tunnel.

“Letho, get up here!” Saul shouted.

Letho clambered to the front of the razorback, careful not to lose his footing as the metal beast attempted to buck him. Saul was doing his best to keep the razorback on a straight course, even though it meant mowing down mutant after mutant. The creatures disappeared one by one under the razorback’s brush-guard in gory spurts. Letho attempted to block out the sound of bones popping and tissue liquifying under the wheels.

In the front seat, Letho kicked out the shattered, bloodstained windshield, then ripped the shoulder strap from his assault rifle and looped it around the razorback’s windshield frame. Clutching it in his right fist, he leapt onto the hood. In his mind he pictured himself assuming a heroic pose: crouched low on the hood of the razorback, sword drawn. But instead he slipped in the thick soup that coated the hood and fell flat on his ass. He slipped over the edge, his boots dragging on the slick ground. He felt claws grasping at him, and he panicked as he remembered the sensation of the mutants piling on top of him, choking the air out of him. Pulling with all his might and slamming his feet down to the ground, he launched himself into the air and, pivoting on the taut strap, landed back on the hood of the razorback.

Second try’s the charm, Letho thought, unsheathing Saladin. Then he closed his eyes and let Saladin go to work. He felt hot ichor spraying his body, heard mutants thudding around him as they fell.

“Left turn ahead,” Saladin said.

Saul jerked the wheel, and the razorback swerved in a wide arc, tires spinning. The bodies of several mutants provided a sickening cushion as the vehicle slammed into the tunnel wall. Then the way in front was clear, and Saul opened the razorback’s engine wide, pouring in as much fuel as she would drink.

Relieved, Letho looked back—just in time to see Johnny tumble over the back of the razorback, thrown off balance by the impact with the wall. Gruesome gray hands welcomed him from all sides as he fell like a lead singer stage-diving into a throng of his greatest fans. His rifle sprayed the ceiling, providing strobed images of his quick and gory demise.

“Johnny, NO!” Letho shouted.

The pursuing mutants stopped to feast on the meal of Johnny Zip, ceasing their assault on the razorback.

Stunned, Letho turned back and faced forward. The end of the tunnel was just up ahead. If only Johnny had hung on a little longer.

But then Letho realized they had another problem. There was no light at the end of this tunnel; no opening. Just a concrete wall.

And it was coming too fast.

Letho started to warn Saul, but he must have already seen it because he hit the brakes and threw the wheel to the left, sending the razorack into a spin. It slammed sideways into a waist-high solid barrier, and the impact sent Letho hurtling through the air. He crashed into the wall, and saw no more.

****

Maka surged forward, curling his god-sized fist and pulverizing a sneering Mendraga’s face. His body throbbed with the unfettered flow of adrenaline. A rifle blast tore through his shoulder, and he roared and pressed forward toward the gunman. The Mendraga, seeing Maka’s charge, fumbled with his rifle, his eyes wide with abject fear. Maka snatched the rifle out of the Mendraga’s hands and kicked him high into the smoky air. Then he charged into a throng of Mendraga and began tearing, slashing.

He tasted Mendraga blood in his mouth but did not remember biting. The reptilian part of his brain reveled in the primitive rightness of it, while his cortex rejected the spoiled, syrupy flavor. He spat to the side, and took a moment to issue a gut-wrenching roar.