Shit.
Le Cannu’s grenade launcher! It was on the floor. Taine threw himself on the ground surfing though the bones to snatch up the launcher with one hand. He swung it low, taking Alcouffe out by the legs. Alcouffe tumbled to the ground, the peluda’s tail skimming over his head and relieving him of his helmet.
“Merde!”
Taine was already on his feet, slashing at the tail as it passed. He thrust deep. The dragon screamed. Blood spurted. It turned its snake-head to Taine, staring at him through slitted eyes. It opened its maw.
Taine raised the grenade launcher, and shoved the barrel deep into the dragon’s gullet. Suddenly, he was pushed from behind. Someone shouldering him, adding their weight to the scrum.
“No! Get clear!” Taine shouted. He didn’t dare fire. Not without risking the life of the man behind him. He’d have to choke the beast. He rammed the launcher in deeper. The creature gagged, the reek overwhelming, but instead of succumbing, the jaws opened wider.
Taine remembered the horse skulls. Please no. Don’t let it be able to detach its lower jaw like a snake. The peluda’s jaws belched, opening further. The beast twisted, the deadly spines on its flanks just half a pace away.
Choking it wouldn’t work. Taine had to shoot. He might die, the man behind him too, but he had to take the risk. His finger tightened on the trigger.
Lompech loomed into view.
Damn it.
He was in the line of fire. If Taine fired now, Lompech was mincemeat.
“Move! Out of the way!” Taine yelled. His body was shaking with fatigue, his boots slipping underfoot. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. Lompech or no, he had to fire. There was no other way.
He squeezed…
There was a wet crunch of steel on bone. The dragon shuddered and went limp. Lompech had driven his bayonet into the animal’s brain. “C’est fini,” he said.
Panting, Taine released his grip on the trigger. He withdrew the launcher, blood and drool dribbling from the barrel, and let the creature’s head drop to the ground.
Le Cannu helped Thierry to his feet. Alcouffe put his helmet back on.
On the side of the dead beast, Bruno’s grin was macabre.
The radio crackled.
“Godefroi?”
“Taine, thank God you’re okay. It’s me, Jules.”
“Not everyone is okay, Jules.” Against the wall, Tatou’s body was close to bursting.
Taine heard her gasp over the static. “I’m at the town hall. The butcher and his wife are here.” She spoke in a whisper.
“Lompech is fine, but we lost some of the others. The spines infected them. We still have a nursery of hairy crabs to deal with, but things are quiet at the moment.”
“Taine…” She broke off. “Taine, about the spines. Sandrine and I might have discovered something. I went back to the café. Remember the can of Coke that spilled on the stones? The puddle had dried, but the crab was still squeezed in a crack. It wasn’t dead, just stunned, because I took it back to the lab and after a while it recovered. Weak acids, like Coke, appear to anaesthetise them. Which is good because it gives us time to irrigate and cauterise a wound before the maggots can take hold.”
Too late for Tatou though.
Taine kicked at the smouldering remains of Le Cannu’s jacket. “The big one – the dragon – spat acid.”
“Spat it?”
“Spat it, sprayed it.”
“That’s interesting.”
“What is?”
“In the animal kingdom, if you’re going to go to all the trouble of making chemicals then it makes sense to use them.”
“It was a defence mechanism?”
“Maybe. But in the last five hundred years? How many predators do you think a cave-dwelling dragon has?”
Taine stooped to pick up his knife. “Good point.” There was a pause. “Jules?”
“Did you say the crabs had been quiet?”
“Yep. They’ve been hanging about on the walls, minding their own business. Unless you touch them. Then, they’re not so friendly.”
“Hang on…” There was chatter on the line. When she came back, Jules said, “Taine you have to get out of there. Get everyone out now.”
“But the dragon’s dead, Jules. We killed it.”
“Taine! Please get out. The dragon’s acid might be what’s kept the crab in hibernation. The way a queen ant emits a chemical to let worker ants know whether to raise princesses or drones. Without the acid’s calming effect, Sandrine and I… we think it will trigger the next phase of the peludas’ life cycle. The adult phase.”
Taine’s stomach curdled. He glanced around the cavern. While he’d been talking to Jules, the crabs had been sluicing off the walls, dropping to the ground. Thousands, possibly millions of them were on the move: each one with a full set of deadly spines, each one, if properly nourished, capable of growing into a full-sized dragon. The peluda were hatching. And the only food source available was…
“Taine, we used a Bunsen burner—”
“Gotta go.”
“—fire kills them.”
Taine was already shouting to the remaining men. “Fall back. Out of the caves!” He hoped the urgency told everyone what they needed to know.
Thierry stooped to pick up Rossi’s body, dragging him into the tunnels, the dead man’s boots scraping the grit.
Lompech hesitated, looking first at Bruno and Tatou.
“Leave them!” Alcouffe yanked Lompech towards the tunnels by his sleeve.
Taine was only steps behind, Le Cannu alongside him, when the peluda’s severed tail whiplashed involuntarily, upsetting the mound of bones. Both Taine and Le Cannu jumped, Taine landing on the other side of the cairn, but Le Cannu wasn’t so lucky; a human skull rolled into his path. Prepared for a first jump, the gendarme hadn’t expected a second. He stepped on the skull, his ankle turning with a crack. Off balance, he careered into the wall, slipping sideways. His soldier reflexes kicked in and he rolled away from the wall, but not before the tiny creatures had grazed the length of his body, barbs sticking in his side like a pins in a pincushion.
Taine was closing the distance to him when Le Cannu raised his gun. Aiming at Taine. Taine stopped short. A spine had pierced Le Cannu’s eye. Larvae were swarming into the socket, the tissue bulging so the man’s eye was merely a slit. Raising his chin, Le Cannu pointed to the grenade launcher. “Give.” He was calm. He knew he was dead. “Grenade launcher,” he said softly. He lifted a finger to the ceiling of the cave.
Taine handed him the launcher. He tapped two fingers to his watch. “One minute.”
Le Cannu waved him off. A white grub crawled out of his eye and down his cheek. “Allez, vite!”
“Where’s Pascal?” Alcouffe demanded when Taine caught up.
“The spikes got him,” Taine said, noting the clench of the lieutenant’s jaw. “He’s going to blow the cave.”
Alcouffe nodded. “We’d better move out then.”
Lompech led since Tatou was dead. Taine counted his steps. Four minutes. No explosion. Le Cannu must have been eaten before he could bring the ceiling down, the poor bastard. Alcouffe must have come to the same conclusion, because seconds later he called a halt. Taine felt the sweat cool on his neck. He would have to go back.
“I’ll come with you,” Lompech said, but Taine shook his head. “Go on,” he said. “Help Thierry with Rossi. I’ve got this.”
“Yes, let the New Zealander do it,” Alcouffe barked. He moved off.
Lompech glared at Alcouffe’s back, then turned to Taine. “Whatever happens, I will make sure the lieutenant keeps his word.”
They shook hands and the butcher’s son turned and ran, leaving Taine alone.