James Rollins - Subterranean

The beast's neck strained forward, head cocked. Still as stone, it listened to the voices and sounds of movement approaching. Perhaps…

She raised her gun, moving with agonizing slowness. No sudden motions to distract it.

Focusing down the barrel, she tried to target its obsidian eye, but a huge bridge of bone protected it. She didn't have a shot, unless it tilted its head just slightly.

From behind her, Linda cried, "It's Ashley!"

Shut up, she silently willed the woman. Linda obviously hadn't rounded the boulder far enough to see what else was out here.

Ashley heard Linda's boot heel scrape loose shale. "Khalid, Ashley must have had the same idea as-Oh! God!"

The beast twitched its head in Linda's direction, an eye rolling into view. Ignoring Linda's scream, Ashley pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession, the recoil dumping her backward.

Unsure if she had hit her mark, she struggled back up into a crouched position, expecting to see a maw of teeth snapping down on her.

She cringed as the beast's head, which had been thrown back by the impact of the bullets, swung once again in her direction, one eye now a cratered ruin.

It took a step toward her, hissing a piercing note. Ashley scrambled backward, tumbling into Linda.

"Get back!" Ashley screamed, fumbling to raise her gun again. Before she could take aim, it lunged at her. Ashley dodged to the side.

Linda, however, didn't.

It snagged the biologist's backpack as she twisted to flee. It dragged her past Ashley, a scream frozen on her features.

Ashley pointed her pistol, but Linda's flailing body blocked her shot.

Khalid ran forward. "Do something!"

She pressed the gun forward with both fists. No clean shot. Linda's eyes met hers, pleading and terrified. Still no shot.

A loud explosion rent the air. Everyone froze. Then, like a marionette with its strings cut, the beast crashed to the floor. Ashley, trembling now, continued to point the gun at the monster. It lay still.

Beyond the bulk of the beast, she saw Villanueva, bloody as hell, sitting up with his rifle propped in his good arm. Smoke trailed from its muzzle. He fell backward with a moan.

She rushed to where the SEAL lay sprawled. He struggled to push himself up, but Ashley held him down.

"Don't move," she said, wincing. It was difficult to look at him. A fragment of bone poked from his upper arm. Blood flowed thickly from ragged wounds.

"He saved my life," Linda whispered, coming up behind Ashley to kneel beside him, taking his scraped hand in hers.

He tried to grin. Twin trails of blood seeped out of his broken nose. "I feel like I got hit head-on by a locomotive." His eyes were glassy with pending shock. He coughed thickly.

"Don't try to talk," Ashley said, then turned to Khalid. "Go get the packs. I need the medical kit."

Khalid, who still stood a few feet away, glanced at the wormhole opening, then back at her. "We don't have time…"

Linda stood up. "We can't leave him here, Khalid. If you won't get the packs, I will." She stepped away.

Scowling, he followed.

Ashley turned her attention back to Villanueva, as another volley of rifle fire erupted from across the cavern. The SEAL's eyes closed. "Others are coming," he mumbled. "Khalid's right. You need to get out of here. Just leave my rifle."

"Shut up. We're all getting out of this fucking cavern. Every one of us." She turned back to search the darkened cave.

Did you hear that, Ben? she thought. That means you too.

Michaelson yanked the trigger again. Another empty chamber. No time to slap in another magazine.

With an angry hiss, the creature lunged at him.

Using his rifle like a baseball bat, he slammed the wooden butt into the soft sinus tissue as the snout snapped at him. The creature grunted, taking a step back. It pawed at its nose with a tiny forearm.

Not waiting, Michaelson bolted away, thanking the gods for his years of Little League back in Nebraska.

While sprinting down the trail, Michaelson pawed for the extra magazine in his breast pocket. Distracted, his foot slipped in a hole. He stumbled but managed to stay upright, but his ankle shot a bolt of pain up his leg. He hopped a few steps. Twisted or broken, he couldn't tell.

He hobbled farther. After several painful yards, he realized he would lose this race. He stopped and glanced back. All clear still. He'd have to make a stand. As he kept his eyes fixed on the trail, he struggled to force the rifle's magazine into place but had it upside down. Damn it all.

Flipping the magazine the right way, he slammed it home as he shouldered his way around a boulder and aimed down his back trail. Now come to me, you ugly fucker.

He heard something approaching, cautiously.

A shadow suddenly popped between two boulders just a few feet in front of him. Startled, Michaelson jerked his trigger finger. The round blasted past the figure.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ben said, covering his singed ear.

"Sorry. I thought-"

"A simple 'Please move' will do fine next time."

Just beyond Ben's right shoulder, Michaelson noted a familiar bruised snout edging around the trail's bend. He raised his rifle again. "Move!"

Not hesitating, Ben scrambled next to Michaelson, swinging around with his own rifle.

As the head edged completely into view, Michaelson aimed and pulled the trigger. The head bounced backward, and blood fountained from its mouth. Its body flopped into the trail, its tail beating convulsively several times before finally ceasing.

"Jesus Christ! How many of them are there?" Ben said, winded.

"I spotted at least four."

"We need to hurry," Ben urged. "Ashley and Villanueva are still struggling with the other one."

As if on cue, a pistol shot rang clear as a bell, followed by a second. "Let's go," Ben said. His eyes shined with worry.

"My ankle's screwed up. I can't move very fast."

Ben bit his lower lip. "Then you go first. I'll cover the trail behind us. We'll work our way back as best we can."

"No, you go on alone. I'll get there when I can."

"Forget it," Ben said. "I'm not leaving you out here injured. Now move it. We're wasting time."

The stubborn stiffness of the Aussie's shoulders told Michaelson it was useless to argue. He pushed off the rock and winced when his ankle touched the ground. He hopped two steps on his good leg for every one on his bad.

Ben's next words sped up his hopping. "We've got company."

Laying on her sled and peering out from the opening of the wormhole, Ashley winced with each rifle blast. For the past fifteen minutes, shots rang out sporadically. Five shots in a row, then nothing for a minute, then an explosion of gunfire again. But for the past two minutes, the cave was silent. Not a sound. The quiet was agony.

C'mon, Ben, just get back here.

From far down the wormhole, she heard Villanueva mumble something. The morphine had made him incoherent. His arm was bandaged and wrapped to his chest. It took a good dose of painkiller and a sharp pull to his arm to get his shoulder in place. Afterward, he had slipped into a fitful slumber. Damn, he was one strong son of a bitch.

Still, he needed more help than a glorified first-aid kit could supply. As soon as they were somewhere safe, they would radio for assistance in the form of huge guns. Bazookas, preferably.

Linda and Khalid had moved the packs and helped haul the SEAL deeper down the shaft. Ashley waited at the entrance, watching the cavern. Where are you, Ben? She strained her eyes in an attempt to pierce the wall of blackness.

From behind her, she heard wheels scraping rock. "Do you see anything?" Linda asked.

Ashley glanced over her shoulder. Underneath the helmet, Linda's face was pale, her breathing raspy. "No," she answered, "and it's too damned quiet out there."