David Golemon - Ripper

As the couple made it to the front door, the two security men pushing people back into the main floor saw that the man being helped by the woman was cut badly on his head. Looking around to make sure they weren’t being watched, the two large guards had a moment of sympathy and allowed the couple to get free of the mess inside the main casino.

As they hit the hot night air they saw that the situation outside wasn’t any better than inside. Cars had rear-ended each other and there were massive jam-ups on Las Vegas Boulevard. The couple walked until they found a stone bench that had been placed in an area designed to look like Central Park, another place they had always wanted to travel to. The woman used a handkerchief to wipe some of the blood away from her husband’s head. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“I’m sorry honey,” the man stammered. “I should have known I wasn’t a gambler. I’m an idiot.”

The woman smiled and put her arm around the man who struggled to get by at their dry cleaners in Wheeling all of their married lives.

“Oh, you’re not that bad,” she said smiling. Then she reached over and showed him the inside of her purse. It was full of cash from the drop box located on the bottom of the blackjack table. When the locked steel top had been stepped on so hard that it was forced open, his wife had struck as fast as John Dillinger. While everyone was fighting for chips they would never be able to keep, she had grabbed the one thing that would never fail — cash. The man looked inside the purse and his eyes widened.

“What … how—”

“Look, I would say we came out of our little foray to Las Vegas about five thousand dollars ahead of the game. What do you say we go home?”

The man leaned over and kissed his wife deeply.

“Yeah, let’s get while the gettin’ is good.”

Suddenly the overhead fluorescent lighting came to full power, stunning the beast as it entered the computer center. It shielded its eyes as Europa came back to full life. Immediately alarms resumed sounding throughout the complex as Niles slapped Pete on the back.

“At least we gave those below a fighting chance!” Compton yelled happily.

The creature above them finally recovered its vision and shook its giant head once more. It took a moment to reacquire the two men, and when it did it smiled, once more exposing enlarged, crooked teeth. It was the most frightening grin either man had ever seen.

Before they realized what was happening, the beast stopped in its tracks and its body started to convulse as a cacophony of noise so loud it brought the men down accompanied by bullets teasing through the broken glass of the computer center. The beast roared and turned toward a threat it hadn’t seen coming. It tried to shield its eyes and head from the onslaught, but there was just too much metal-jacketed lead flying. Bullet after bullet struck the former mercenary. Large-caliber rounds tore its upper body to pieces as it went to its knees. The eruption of gunfire continued until four very loud blasts echoed inside the center. The head of the beast, along with the hand and arm that had been covering its face, exploded in a spray of red mist. The firing ceased as the body of the mercenary fell forward out of view of Niles and Pete who managed to look up in time to see the creature’s demise.

“Clear!” called out a voice from the hallway.

Niles looked over at a stunned Pete Golding who had covered his head with his arms after they had hit the floor.

“I said clear damn it!”

“C … c … clear!” Niles shouted.

As they looked up over the stair risers above them, a small man along with five others came through the hole in the glass wall. One of the men emptied a full magazine of nine-millimeter rounds into the twitching torso of the giant at his feet.

“Identify yourselves, please,” the man in the lead wearing an old bush hat called down. He reached up and handed his ambient-light goggles to one of his men.

“Dr. Niles Compton, Dr. Pete Golding!” the director called out as Pete slowly helped him to his feet.

“Dr. Golding, answer a question for me please,” the small man with camouflaged black and gray greasepaint covering his features said as his five men came forward and aimed their weapons at the two stunned men.

Niles could now only shake his head as the events of the last minute finally zapped his remaining strength and the adrenalin rush started to ebb.

“What is your nickname that the president uses when speaking to you?” the man asked as he cradled the Barrett fifty-caliber rifle across his chest. At that moment their savior didn’t look at all friendly, and neither did his men.

Niles looked from the six men above them to Pete. Then his eyes went down to examine his broken ankle.

“Baldy,” he mumbled.

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t hear your response,” the man said as the five aimed weapons zeroed in a little tighter than before.

“Baldy, damn it!” Niles answered loudly enough for his voice to echo inside the computer center. He finally looked up, angry as hell his nickname had been exposed in front of Pete.

The man smiled and gestured for his five men to lower their weapons. He used hand gestures to order them to take up station out in the hallway. He stepped down the risers as agile as a man walking on cotton and came face to face with Niles and Pete.

“I’ll have one of my men look at that ankle, Dr. Compton,” the small man said as he took in the haggard men before him.

“Who are you and who sent you?” Niles asked as he leaned on Pete even more than before.

“Well, sir, I am a major in the United States Army. I cannot tell you my unit, but I can say that we were sent by the president. Now, is Colonel Collins here and is he alive?”

“Yes, he’s here and was alive the last time I saw him.”

“Excellent,” Major Garcia said as he turned and started up the stairs. “Where is he located at the moment,” he asked as he moved back up the risers.

Suddenly Europa came fully awake. “There are fifteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds left till core meltdown. Repeat, there are fifteen minutes, twenty - five seconds remaining till core meltdown.”

Garcia pointed at the overhead speaker system. “I take it the colonel’s location has something to do with that?” “Grateful Dead” Garcia asked as he came to a stop on the stairs and then half tuned to look down on the two men once again.

“Level eighty-four, the reactor section, and he probably has some very angry and insane company down there with him.”

“Then that’s where we have to be,” Garcia said as he started back up the steps. “It was an honor to meet a friend of the president’s, Dr. Compton, and a man this mission was codenamed for.”

Niles looked from Garcia’s back to Pete and then back at the army major again. “And what was the code name?” he asked as his anger started immediately to grow.

“Operation Nerdlinger, Doctor. My medic will be down to help you ASAP.”

“Operation Nerdlinger, that bastard!”

As Collins traveled down the length of the darkened elevator tube he heard the beast they had just escaped from fall silent. He thought for sure the altered mercenary would have done what he had noticed the giants had become adept at — following them. As he slowed three levels from the bottom, he adjusted his grip on the rope and managed to get a small flashlight out and examine the sides of the stainless-steel shaft. His hunch was correct as he examined the deep indentations from one of the creature’s efforts to traverse the slippery sides. That confirmed in his mind that one of them was below on the reactor level waiting for them, and his soldier’s instinct told him who that would be — Smith.