Читать книгу Downrigger Drift - James Axler - Страница 16

The pack of pig-rats halted its advance upon seeing the face of their comrade immolated right next to them. The burn victim screamed in agony and staggered away, its eyes heated to milky-white blindness. One of the others snapped at its foreleg, and when it turned to face that threat, another snuck in from behind and went for its underbelly. In seconds, the wounded one was down and dead, feasted upon by a half dozen of its fellows.

Ryan turned from the grisly sight—now nicely illuminated—back to Doc, who now held a curious apparatus. It looked to be a pipe about two feet long, bent at a sixty-degree angle, with a two-foot-long tongue of blue-orange flame erupting from a small nozzle. The other end was attached to a pair of large, steel cylinders by stiff rubber tubes. Above the odor of feces, Ryan now detected the faint scent of what smelled like burned garlic.

Doc’s face had lit up like a boy’s on Christmas morning. “MAPP gas welding torch—liquefied petroleum gas mixed with methylacetylene-propadiene. If I can get a hand with the fuel tank—” he waved at the pair of tall cylinders with a pair of gauges at the top “—we should be able to stroll out of here like walking out of church on a sunny Sunday afternoon.”

“Then let’s go. Neither Jak nor J.B. are getting any better while we stand around gawking!” Mildred said.

“Doc, look out!” Ryan aimed his blaster past the old man, who spun at the same time and adjusted a knob on the handle of the device, sending a five-foot burst of flame at the encroaching group of rats trying to ambush him. The searing fire drove them back, and Doc advanced into the group, wielding the pipe like a demented conductor, swinging it back and forth, singeing hair and mutie skin as he cleared a path through the pack surrounding them.

“Ryan, help me move the containers!” he snapped. “Everyone else stay close!”

Ryan kept his SIG-Sauer ready as he grabbed the handle sticking up above the pair of tanks. Upon a closer look, he saw that they were fastened to an upright, mobile cart, the rubber wheels jammed solid with fecal matter. Tipping the handle toward him, Ryan tried forcing them to move, but neither one budged an inch.

“Hold up, Doc!” Ryan tugged on the handle, breaking the cart loose from where it had stood for the past hundred years, and dragging it out before Doc could damage the hoses connecting the flaming wand to its fuel source. “Okay, stay close to the wall! Everyone, follow us!”

The muties snarled and shrieked their displeasure, but none were bold enough to risk the fire to attack the norm keeping them at bay. Guided by the wall on his left, Doc steadily drove through the crowd. Ryan was torn between keeping up with the old man and watching their back, but Krysty and Mildred seemed to be doing fine in that regard, the two women teaming up to protect their own flanks and guard each other. Pig-rats snapped and whined, but the occasional well-placed shot kept any rear force from becoming too organized or large.

Slowly, they forged deeper into the room, which Ryan was beginning to think had no end, but seemed to go on forever, with the group surrounded by darkness and muties, only held at bay by Doc’s improvised flamer. Always, the pig-rats probed their defenses, looking for a weak spot to swarm in for the kill. And time after time, wave after wave, Doc, Ryan and the others fended them off with fire and lead.

After what might have been the sixth or seventh assault, Doc, his narrow chest heaving like a bellows, pointed with the blazing torch. “Ryan, I see something ahead. It looks like a wall. It might be the way out!”

“Go! Go!”

Doc increased the spray on his torch, sending a stream of fire arcing out, scattering scorched muties out of his path. Ryan and the others increased their pace as well, pulses quickening as they realized they might be close to leaving this hellhole.

Then, as quickly as he had spoken, Doc stumbled to a stop, the torch drooping in his hand. “Holy mother of God…”

Ryan skidded to a halt beside him, the cart almost banging his shins before lurching to a stop. “Doc, what the hell, why you stopping now?”

In answer, the other man simply raised his arm and pointed.

At first, Ryan couldn’t make out what was ahead, but then they advanced into the light and his blaster rose instinctively, even though he knew it probably didn’t have a chance in hell of putting this new enemy down.

From around the wall lumbered huge, furry shapes, their front claws scraping through the muck, and their rear hooves clattering on the floor. Each of these muties, six in all, stood as tall as Ryan on their four legs. One of them yawned, exposing teeth as long as his hand, capped by a double pair of tusks the length of his forearm. Ryan knew that if they wanted, each one of these abominations could lunge forward and bite his head off, or disembowel him with one swipe of their three-inch claws.

Mildred, her eyes wide, was bringing up her blaster to target one of the huge beasts, but J.B. got his hand up first and managed to clamp his fingers around hers.

“No! No shooting, you hear?” he whispered.

“But we can take them out right now, before they kill us,” she hissed back.

“If they’d wanted us dead, we’d be on the floor, guts around our ankles,” Ryan said, his low voice carrying to everyone in the group. “No one makes a move until I do, got it?”

Mildred nodded. Ryan didn’t have to check the rest; he knew what the answer would be.

He did, however, steal a glance at Doc, who was staring as if entranced—but not at the six horse-sized mutants. “Is it not amazing, my dear Ryan? That life, in all of its blind and infinite wisdom, somehow finds a way to continue, to forge forward, despite all of our pathetic attempts to shape or control or destroy it?”

“Hey, Doc, right now that life you’re so all-fired moony over is about to swallow us whole, so why don’t we try to get by them as quick as possible? If I can get the shotgun, it might even—”

Doc shook his head, his gray-white hair flapping around his shoulders. “No, Ryan. Look closely at what lies ahead of us, and tell me if you think we have any chance of escaping this room alive.”

The old man’s words were spoken with perfect, chilling clarity, and the look on his face was anything but insane, if Ryan was any judge. He looked back at the huge pig-rats, none of which had made a move toward them yet.

None of them…Ryan glanced around to see that the rest of the pig-rats had also retreated to a safe distance, many of them sitting on their haunches and regarding the party, as if they were an audience, watching some sort of macabre play.

He peered closer at what he first thought was a wall, only to realize the torch light was playing tricks on his eyes. It had to have been, for the barrier curved away at the top, and was covered in thick, matted gray fur, liberally caked with shit. And even stranger, it pulsed in and out rhythmically, almost as if…

“Fireblast…” Ryan breathed as he realized exactly what was lying in front of them. At that exact same moment, the wall of flesh and fur undulated and rippled. From the top he saw a massive paw, longer than he was tall, tipped with curved, short-swordlike talons at the end, descend toward the floor. He stared in mingled revulsion and awe as the leviathan—for there was no better word for it—continued to turn over.

The queen of the mutie pig-rat horde was an appalling vision straight out of a nightmare, brought to breathing, quivering life. Easily twenty feet tall lying down, she had to be at least three times as long from her twitching nose to her huge, naked pink tail, a bloated rodent mountain at the center of her filthy empire. Completing her turn, which Ryan figured she didn’t do very often, brought a double row of her engorged teats into view. As he looked on in horrified fascination, a dozen mewling, blind, four-foot-long infants swarmed over her, seeking out the swollen glands, which oozed a thick, greenish-white liquid from their tips. The next generation eagerly suckled at her chest, climbing over each other in their eagerness to get at the life-giving fluid.

The face of the mother was just as large as the rest of her, with huge, black eyes swimming in a puffy face swollen with layers of fat. Her teeth were the hugest Ryan had ever seen, jutting from a mouth so cavernous that if she yawned, he figured he might be able to walk inside if he stooped a bit. She regarding them with a penetrating stare, however, appearing anything but a mindless rodent. Her gaze seemed particularly drawn to the flaming torch, hanging almost forgotten in Doc’s hand, and she twisted her head away, although her eyes never left the flickering flame.

That seemed important to Ryan, but damned if he knew exactly how at the moment. A straight-up fight was impossible—it would only result in their immediate deaths, even if he managed to get the shotgun off J.B. and firing. The torch itself was good on the smaller animals, but the huge rats would simply devour them before they could be burned to death. He didn’t doubt that a bite from those massive jaws could easily sever a limb.

“Ryan!” The urgent whisper made him glance back at Krysty, whose normally calm face was furrowed in concentration. “Be careful. Do not underestimate her. She knows…things. She—thinks like us….”

Krysty’s words scared Ryan even more, but at the same time, the glimmer of a plan was forming in the back of his consciousness. He just needed another moment to put it together….

One of the guards swung its head over to his leader, as if seeking permission for whatever he was about to do. The queen’s eyes flicked toward him, then back to the group, and the huge pig-rat started forward, saliva dripping from his jaws, his killing intent more than clear.