Hellbenders

J.B. led the way as he was nearest the ascending path. The inclines in the tunnel slopes were always relatively gentle, to allow the internal use of some maintenance vehicles, so the ascent by slope would be of necessity slower than by the elevator—useless in the current circumstances—or by the emergency stairwell, which they didn’t have time to find.

Jak and Dean were at J.B.’s heels. Mildred hung back and stopped for a second to look behind, a vague awareness hitting her that she could hear or feel no one immediately to her rear. Krysty and Ryan were some way behind, helping Doc, who had lost his balance and crashed to the tunnel floor. Hoisting him with a hand under each of his arms, Ryan and Krysty had propelled him forward as he hit the upright, hoping to give him some impetus. Thus, Doc was coming toward Mildred at some speed. His balance still looked precarious, and Mildred took another step toward him in order to try to steady and assist him. Although she called him a mad old buzzard, and could be exasperated by his wandering mind at times, Mildred had a grudging liking for the older man—perhaps because he, like herself, represented an earlier age set adrift, and they were both strangers in this strange land.

It was a step that was to prove decisive. Doc was a few yards from her, keeping his balance well, the intense concentration showing on his face. Mildred was focused on him, which may explain why neither of them noticed that the wall of the tunnel to one side was suddenly beginning to break up with a spiderweb pattern that resembled a cracking glass.

Mildred felt a sudden rush of air almost simultaneously with the hail of tiny concrete shards that sailed across the breadth of the tunnel, completely obscuring Doc from view. Where a moment before she had a clear view of the old man as he ran stumblingly toward her, she now saw nothing but gray and darkness. Some of the shards that flew out from the main cluster hit her on the head and upper body. She felt a numbing blow on her face and stinging on her hands. There was no pain, but her eyes filled with blood from what she figured was a superficial scalp wound. The problem was, with the dust and concrete rain, the blood was now making it almost impossible for her to see. Her torso had been protected by her fatigue jacket, for which she was grateful. She had felt the concrete chips rip at her clothing, but they had caused no pain.

At least she was still conscious. She moved her arm to wipe the blood from her eyes and realized that everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Hell, she was even thinking in slow motion…a cold wave of nausea and fear swept through her gut as she realized that the blow to her head had affected her more than she had thought, and that she was now lying on the floor of the tunnel, mildly concussed but enough to slow her actions to a possibly fatal degree. The tunnel was vibrating much less, as though the pressure had been released by the sudden explosion.

And then the mist cleared for a moment as she wiped her eyes, and she thought that the blow had to have rendered her mad, as well as concussed.

For Doc Tanner, too, the sudden hail of concrete had come as something of a shock. One moment he had been moving toward the good Dr. Wyeth, who was holding out a hand to help him maintain his equilibrium, as well as his momentum; the next moment a force much greater than his own had hit him full in the body, arresting his forward motion and flinging him back, as though he had run straight into a wall. He felt rather than saw the hail of concrete that passed before him, stray shards like an abrasive rain that showered over his face and body, plucking at his clothes and breaking the skin of his face and hands in several places. The wind knocked solidly from his body, Doc collapsed to the ground. He hadn’t been quite as near the point of impact as Mildred, and so wasn’t as concussed. Nonetheless, time did seem to run a little slower than he had expected as he tried to gather his thoughts and marshal his actions. For instance, he had noticed that the tunnel had ceased to shake.

When he looked up and saw what had made the impact, and what had caused the cessation of the vibrations, he truly believed for one second that he had lost all possession of his senses.

For the thing that both Mildred and Doc saw from their prone positions was quite unlike anything that either of them had seen during their travels—or hoped that they would ever see.

It was moving quite slowly, which was hardly surprising given the size and construction of the creature. It was immense in size, possibly fifteen feet in diameter, and with a pale and almost translucent flesh that seemed to move independently in every part. The smell of the oozing mucus that covered and moisturized every part of the flesh was intense within the tunnel, filling their nostrils with its stench even though one breath had made both, independently, decide to try to breathe as little as possible while it was crossing the floor.

The giant mutie creature, from the shape that was just about discernible, and from the length that could only be estimated, as part of it was still concealed in the wall, seemed to be some kind of earth- or sandworm. In the glistening ooze that covered the pale flesh, large ring segments could just about be distinguished, and it had no features at the front of its body, just an open maw with teeth that were double rowed around the almost perfect circle of its mouth, seemingly made of matter little harder than the flesh.

Not that either Mildred or Doc wished to discover the truth of this. Both were still, partly from shock and their injuries, and partly from the sudden numbing fear of encountering something so alien.

The mutie creature had obviously been burrowing through the earth, and the tunnel of the redoubt was just a tunnel that crossed its path at one point. Now the huge hole that had been badly repaired back along the tunnel was explained. The casts of the giant worm also accounted for some of the material used to block the hole that had seemed to be unidentifiable: whoever had repaired the hole had used some of the cast to help block the gap and seal it. Who that could be was a question for another time. For now, the only thing that mattered was the giant worm before them.

The sudden and violent vibration of the tunnel was now explained—a localized disturbance caused by the approach and passing of the worm as it ate its way through the earth and rock. That would explain why the tunnel and the mat-trans chamber were still in one piece, and it would account for why this level was deserted even though there were general signs of habitation. If the appearances by the worms were of any frequency, it would perhaps be much safer to stay at a higher level of the redoubt.

And no surprise. As the worm turned its front end, showing its teeth and maw, it was an awesome and appalling sight. It seemed to have no eyes, but had to surely have some kind of sensory equipment. If so, could it detect their presence, and did it see them as a threat?

Standing back behind Doc, Ryan and Krysty had instinctively raised the blasters they held. On the other side, Dean, Jak and J.B. had done likewise. It was a tense waiting game. Would the worm attack, or would it just move on, sensing no threat to itself?

The stench grew overpowering in the suddenly cramped confines of the tunnel. The odor also carried with it the heat of the giant, elongated body. The worm was partially in the tunnel and partially in the hole in the wall, leaving them with little idea as to its actual length. The flabby, pulpy body had just flopped down from the hole in the wall as the burrowing creature had hit empty air, the flesh plopping heavily to the concrete floor. The oozing mucus would leave a trail in the creature’s wake, and as it was currently static, the clear, viscous fluid spread out from beneath it toward Mildred on one side and Doc on the other.

J.B. and Jak held their fire, the Armorer drawing in his breath as he watched the creature turn what had to pass for its head, eerily soundless for something of that size. C’mon, move, you bastard, he urged silently, hoping that it wouldn’t notice Mildred as she lay there, still a little dazed.

Seeing the creature move its front end her way, and still not being fully in control of her faculties, Mildred did the one thing that, under any other circumstance, she wouldn’t: she scrabbled backward, trying to escape from the mutie’s maw. If she had been one hundred percent her usual self, Mildred would have figured that to move would draw attention to herself, whereas to stay still would hopefully mean that the sightless creature wouldn’t notice her presence.

But Mildred was still dazed and concussed, and a deep-rooted fear instinct took over. She didn’t even scramble to her feet. Lifting herself on her arms from behind, and taking purchase on the floor with her heels, she scuttled backward crablike.

The noise and movement seemed to attract the attention of the giant mutie, even though it was impossible to tell how it could have noticed. The front end and maw moved downward and toward Mildred. With no eyes, it was impossible to tell whether this was a threatening, or merely a curious, gesture. But one thing was for sure—it was too close to be comfortable with it.

Instinct took over in Dean. He raised his Browning Hi-Power blaster and snapped off two shots toward the mutie’s maw. The slugs hit home, thudding into the viscous mass of the creature with a sickeningly slushy sound that was audible after the crack of the blaster shots. The creature obviously felt the impact in some way, however its central nervous system—assuming it actually had one—worked. It reared into the air so that it took up the whole of the tunnel, its foremost extremity brushing against the roof of the concrete construction.

“Hot pipe,” Dean breathed, “that should have taken out its brain.”

“Who says it has one?” J.B. replied sharply. “We need to hold it back while Millie gets away.”

Even as he spoke, the Armorer raised the barrel of his Uzi, flicking to rapid fire and bracing the stock against his body, his legs spread to anchor himself to the floor. He sent a stream of hot metal into the body of the beast, spraying it so that it rippled with the wave of impact. It thrashed its head, moving slightly backward and enabling Mildred, still scrambling toward them, to get some distance between her and the giant mutie.

Jak and Dean, equipped with handblasters that would need reloading more quickly than J.B.’s Uzi, took their shots with more care. Dean aimed for the end of the creature with the open maw, looking to place more shots within the beast. Jak took the end that disappeared into the tunnel wall, looking to rip holes in it with the slugs from the .357 Magnum Colt Python, the shots roaring from his revolver.

The creature showed no sign of emotion, made no sound, but was clearly enraged by this attack as it reared back under the initial impact, then ignored the repeated hits about its body and began to slither toward the group of four, Mildred now joining them on her feet, directing shots from the ZKR toward the beast.

J.B. wondered if a gren tossed into the maw would disable the creature, but had no idea where Ryan, Krysty and Doc were on the other side of the beast. The last thing he wanted was to bring down part of the corridor along with the mutie, thus blocking them off.

On the other side of the creature, Doc had regained his feet and had retreated a few steps to be nearer to Ryan and Krysty as the mutie moved in the opposite direction. Although it blocked all view of anything on its far side, the noise of the blasterfire and the direction of its movement made it totally clear what was happening.

“I fear that the creature will be impervious to bullets,” Doc said quickly, “and if it is a mutation of the species I believe it to be, then the worst thing John Barrymore could do would be to use a gren.”

“Why?” Ryan queried.

Doc looked astonished. “But my dear boy, a whole host of worms rather than one?”

“But smaller, Doc,” Ryan replied. “Easier to chill and drive off. Anyway, too risky to use a gren. Could bring down the corridor.”

“Then what?” Krysty exclaimed. “We can’t leave them.”

“No, but we can distract that bastard, mebbe drive it back into its hole if it doesn’t know where to turn,” the one-eyed warrior said, holstering the SIG-Sauer and unslinging his Steyr.

Krysty and Doc both agreed, and as Ryan loosed a round from the rifle, Krysty began to fire steadily with her Smith & Wesson revolver, while Doc gave the creature a charge of shot.

Attacked on both sides, its flesh irritated and torn, the confused giant mutie worm began to turn toward the group headed by Ryan, before another wave of fire from the other side made it swing around again.

Each side poured round after round into the creature, cursing it for the waste of every precious shell, but knowing that there was no other way to defeat it.

Still turning from side to side, the creature began to slither back into its hole, its maw the last thing to disappear. Its speed was the greater for it only having to slide back through the empty rock, its last cast some distance back.

The companions ceased fire as the corridor gave a little shudder and tremor at the passing of the creature back into the rock from whence it had come. Finally, both sides could see each other once more.

“Shit, don’t want that sort of trouble too often,” Mildred said, still shaking her head to clear it. “Bet you’re pissed at losing all those rounds, John.”

The Armorer gave her a grim smile. “We’re not too bad. I kinda hope whoever’s been here hasn’t cleaned out the armory, though.”

Jak inclined his head. He spoke softly after a few seconds. “Mebbe know sooner than want—hear someone on move.”

Chapter Three

“How far?” Ryan asked of the albino.

“Two levels up—coming fast now,” Jak replied, his eyes shut tight as he listened carefully for noises that the others couldn’t detect.

“And I don’t think they’re particularly friendly, lover,” Krysty added softly. A swift glance from Ryan to the woman confirmed this, as her sentient hair was closing to her neck and scalp, detectable even as he watched.

J.B. had been pondering as this exchange took place, and turned to Ryan. “If this redoubt is like the others, then the armory and dispensary are two floors up, and the next level is where the dorms and showers are.”

“And the kitchens,” Ryan added, nodding his agreement.

“Great.” Mildred grimaced, allowing a shaft of blackened humor to penetrate the conversation, “at least we can try to beat them to death with a cooking pot.”