The group charged as the fleeing townspeople reached the dock and began launching boats. They headed straight for Rook.
Aiming carefully, Rook began firing. Three regens dropped, two headless, one missing the better part of its chest. More fell, but not from lethalwounds…not for regens anyway.
Another lost its head from the side as Knight came up beside him.
"I never liked the Alamo story," Knight said, squeezing off another perfectly aimed shot.
"Me neither." Click, click. "I'm out." He holstered both weapons, not willing to part with either, and drew his long KA-BAR blade. Thirteen regens continued forward, frothing, growling, savage. Some were still healing from gaping wounds opened by Rook's Desert Eagle. They closed within fifty feet, picking up speed.
Then a grenade clunked to the ground at the center of the group. They paused to look at it.
"The stupid bastards are dumb as shit!" a voice shouted from behind. They turned and saw Jon Karn, loaded with guns and ammo. "Haul your asses back to the yacht. I'll cover you."
Rook opened his mouth to argue, then saw the weapon in the man's hands and thought better of it. Karn held a M134 Minigun mounted on a heavy-duty tripod. The weapon was impossible to wield as a handheld weapon, despite its popular use in movies, but Karn seemed to know that. He kicked open the tripod, knelt down, and fired three bolts into the town's only paved road, locking the tripod down. He stood, pulled the trigger, and as the barrel of the gun began spinning, shouted, "I said move! This is my town. I'll defend it!"
The minigun spat bullets at a rate of four thousand rounds per minute. The first regen struck was split in two from crotch to head.
Listening to the man, Rook and Knight bolted for the Mercury, intent on rearming and returning to the fight. As they approached the dock they could clearly see the surviving townspeople powering out to sea on an array of small ships. The Mercury and a fishing boat named Susie-Q were the only ships remaining. The wood of the dock echoed under their boots, both men stopped short of the Mercury. The mini-gun had stopped firing.
They turned to find Karn falling beneath the weight of two regens who had tackled him from the side. Knight took aim as Karn's screams came to an abrupt stop and a pool of blood slid out over pavement. Knight dropped both regens with a single well-placed round. He lowered the rifle and shook his head.
Rook nudged his shoulder and nodded toward the top of the hill. A horde of regens plunged toward town like an army. "Let's move."
Knight hopped into the boat, while Rook tossed the tie lines in. The dual engines roared to life as Rook climbed in. He reloaded his twin Desert Eagles and began looking for more weapons on the heavily armed yacht. They couldn't stay in town, but they wouldn't be leaving. Not with three members of the team M.I.A.
Better we all die together, Rook thought.
THIRTY-SIX
Ignoring the potential threat from rampaging regens, King heaved the green, scaly George Pierce over his shoulder and made for the stairs, leading with his handgun. He couldn't believe the state of his friend. And though he tried not to think about what Pierce had become, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was his fault. But at his core he knew it wasn't. It was Richard Ridley and Manifold that ultimately had to answer for what had happened to his friend. Without their actions none of this would be happening, and Pierce would still be… human.
King kicked the staircase door open. Shadows shifted on the flight above. He could hear flesh rending from bones and more than one voice moaning in pleasure from the feast. He backed out of the stairway, not wanting to tempt fate by engaging undying enemies with Pierce on his shoulder. His aim, balance, and speed would be off.
A sign at the end of the hallway pointed to the elevators. If they still worked, they might be the only way back up. After a quick run, he rounded the corner to the elevators and slid to a stop, the barrel of an UMP pressed against his forehead.
"Shit, King, I nearly took your head off," Queen said, lowering her aim.
King immediately noticed Bishop standing next to Queen, leaning against the wall. "Bishop?"
"Captured. End of story." Bishop said, then pointed to Pierce. "Who's this?"
King turned to the side, revealing Pierce's scaled face. "George. They did… something to him."
Bishop frowned and shook his head in disbelief.
An explosion shook the floors above. King pushed the elevator's call button.
"Elevator crapped out," Queen said. "We need to take the stairs." "They're occupied."
"Not for long," she said, moving around the corner, weapon raised.
"Let me take him," Bishop said. "I'm stronger."
King noticed Bishop's forehead covered in perspiration. He couldn't remember ever seeing Bishop sweat, even in hot and humid weather. The man's body seemed built to handle high temperatures, but now… "You don't look so well."
"Damnit, King." Bishop pulled Pierce from his shoulder and hoisted him up and over his own, handling Pierce's weight as though he were nothing more than a small child. "I'm fine."
A staccato of gunfire ripped down the hallway, followed by Queen's voice. "Clear!"
King didn't like that Bishop had so brazenly taken Pierce, not because he was wrong to do so — he was stronger… a lot stronger — but first, the forceful approach was out of character, and second, Pierce was his burden to bear. But he couldn't argue with the fact that Bishop carrying Pierce made sense. "Let's go."
The group ran up the stairwell, avoiding slippery pools of blood along the way. As King took in deep breaths he couldn't tell which was better, breathing through his nose and smelling the thick coppery odor of blood, or breathing through his mouth and tasting it. As they reached the top floor, a series of explosions shook from below
The place was coming apart.
"Go, go, go!" King shouted as he ran for the open exit. He hopped over the two headless regens he'd shot when he entered and stepped into the courtyard. A series of booms grew louder. Closer.
"Get down!" Bishop shouted, realizing the main building was next in line to be blown apart. He opened his arms and scooped King and Queen into a great bear hug, falling to the ground on top of them and Pierce.
A massive explosion shook the ground and burst the windows on the remaining floors of the main building. Then, with its foundation liquefied, it imploded, shooting out glass and metal shrapnel. Bishop grunted as the debris struck his back.
Muffled explosions continued to sound out in the distance, but the courtyard grew still. Bishop pushed himself up off the others, jaw clenched in pain. He fell to the side, unable to walk.
Queen rolled up and knelt beside him. "You dumb son of a bitch. Why'd you do that?"
"I'll live." He pushed himself up, tore off his shredded shirt and then his flak jacket. Glass and debris clung to it, some pierced all the way through. Bishop inspected it. So did Queen.
She looked at Bishop's back. "You been saying your prayers, Bish? You didn't get a scratch."
Bishop had his eyes clenched shut tight. His eyelids twitched like he was reliving a bad dream. Then he stopped, opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "If God is looking out for me it's not because of anything I've done."
A boom that put the destruction of the main building to shame rocked the entire island. It was followed by a bright orange glow from above. King looked toward the noise and found an unreal sight. Gouts of bright orange lava spewed from the cone of Tristan da Cunha's volcano. A plume of ash rose up and mushroomed in the sky above the island. Rivers of magma poured from fresh blast holes on the side of the volcano, flowing hot and fast. Pyriphlegethon, the mythological river of lava had been unleashed on earth.