The creature dropped soundlessly. It was broad, rubbery looking, and had extremely long and powerful limbs.
“Behind you,” Russell shrieked from around Sam’s shoulder.
Sam turned in time to see the creature’s long arms and legs separate from four to eight, and then every one of them grabbed at the female HAWC. Monroe leaned in, but one of the segmented limbs flicked him away as if he weighed nothing.
Franks tried to turn but she was tangled in the mesh, and raised both of her own blades as the thing loomed before her. “Fuck you!” She went to do a double stab, but one of her arms was still caught, and more cable-like strands were sprayed over her from below. She still held an arm up, but was becoming totally covered as the creature physically netted her in a cocoon.
She fell sideways, cursing and yelling. Then the thing reached down to hook the cocoon and began to drag her away from the group.
Russell was frozen, hands up at each side of his face, and mouth open in a long, silent scream.
“Like hell.” Sam charged in.
Sam leaped over Franks and crashed into the thing’s leathery body, bringing a double fisted blow down in the center of its wire-haired back.
It dropped Casey and spun, making a noise like a rattlesnake. Eight long arms closed around Sam. He felt the monstrous strength of the grip as the limbs compressed, and he was drawn in close to a muscular body. There was a scraping sound and he looked up into the top of his visor — what he initially thought were two smaller limbs at the front of the horrifying monkey-like face had now extended forward, and on the end of each was a six-inch fang. They jabbed and scraped down the clear visor, leaving both a gouge in the super tough polymer and a milky trail as they went.
The thing moved fast, scrabbling at him, jostling him in its arms or legs or whatever the limbs were as it angled its mouthparts, trying to find an area of his body where it could penetrate his skin. Sam knew the armor plates of his suit should hold up, but didn’t want to take the chance of those six-inch tusks finding a space in between the plating where they might be able to dig in.
The big HAWC had his longest blade in his left hand and pushed hard to give himself thrusting room. But the thing pulled him in closer. The MECH’s hydraulics began to assert themselves and coupled with Sam’s muscles he could just hold it at bay. He grimaced from the effort, and found his legs becoming stiff. He glanced down and saw the huge bag of the thing’s abdomen prodding forward to squirt white liquid onto his column-like legs. The stuff began to harden into sticky rope.
Jesus! He kicked out while it was still wet, knowing he needed to keep his legs apart or they’d be glued together in an instant. Once down, he was as good as dead.
The manically moving arms and legs of the creature were covered in bristled hairs, same as the body, but the underside that faced him was relatively smooth and shiny — it was this area that Sam attacked.
He stabbed hard, but his blade refused to bite. He couldn’t penetrate a hide that was more like toughened leather. He tried again and again, but finally the hardened Ka-bar’s steel blade snapped. The grip on him tightened further. He felt his ribs begin to creak inside his suit.
Sam became aware of Monroe back on his feet and circling them looking for an opening. The young HAWC darted in, leaped, and used a two-handed grip to stab down on the thing’s back, but his hands and blade bounced off.
The bulbous abdomen pointed backwards and sprayed the young HAWC’s legs.
“Shit.” He fell and dragged himself away as it hardened to cable-like strength.
“Stay back,” Sam yelled. He looked up into the thing’s emotionless face. It had multiple eyes, a simian visage, and the two moving palps — like stubby arms growing out of its cheeks. He pushed out, drawing back from the thing inch by inch, and then using the creature’s grip and his own massive strength, he shot his head forward to butt the thing dead center.
The creature’s head was rocked back, and the grip loosened just enough for him to lift his arms and grab hold of the base of just one limb. He exerted every ounce of his technology-assisted strength on the single arm where the segment joined to the body. There was a satisfying crack, and then like pulling a cooked crab leg from its body, the limb came away, dragging with it a good-sized piece of meat and a gush of thick, dark blood.
The creature spasmed as its movements became ever more frantic. The rattling hiss boiled from its mouth as the fangs struck over and over again. Sam grabbed at the next limb, gritted his teeth and then jerked back hard. It too tore away.
The thing must have decided that making a meal of these creatures wasn’t worth being dismembered, and in an instant, it leaped above him, swinging away to vanish back into the mist ceiling.
Russell Burrows sat down hard and held his head. Sam just dropped to his knees and sucked in huge droughts of air. This place was a combination insane asylum and seventh level of Hell; and demons abound.
His heart was galloping in his chest, and he concentrated on slowing it. Monroe came and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Intense.”
Sam chuckled and looked up. “Just another day at the office.” He pointed at the cocooned Casey Franks. “And that’s enough laying down on the job for her.”
The cocoon bucked and wriggled as curses could be heard emanating from within the silken bag. Monroe turned to Sam.
“Hey, are you sure we should let her out? Might be dangerous.”
Sam grinned as he pushed to his feet. “Yeah, but we better stand back.” He turned to stare out into the near-impenetrable fog in the direction Alex had headed. The Arcadian was out there alone and this mad place was going all to shit. If this was what was happening here, what must it be like at ground zero, where the Orlando had come down?
“Hurry up in there, buddy,” he said softly.
Monroe got the sticky cords off the top half of Franks, and with her arms free, the female HAWC rapidly slashed away the rest.
“What — the fuck — was that thing?”
“A demon,” Russell said, holding himself. “And this is Hell.”
“Cut that shit out,” Sam growled. Because it’s exactly what’s on all our goddamn minds.
“Nah, remember the manifesto from the Orlando?” Monroe ventured. “I bet that was one of the spider specimens — tarantulas — all grown up. They had two of them.”
“Two?” Sam cursed. “Then we’re outta here.” He turned to Russell Burrows. “Mister Burrows?”
“I think I’m okay.” The scientist dropped his arms to his sides, still looking pale behind his glass visor.
Sam looked to Franks. “You good?”
“Say the word.” She sheathed her blade.
Sam took one last look around. The light was fading fast, and any advantage they had would vanish with it. “What advantage,” he muttered, and turned to the woman.
“Then take us out.” Sam wiped the ichor off his hands. “And keep your damn eyes open, soldier.”
CHAPTER 39
Alex slowed. He was close, and he needed to use the utmost stealth. The huge creatures ‒ the Morg ‒ could see far better and were far stronger than him, but he had to assume they weren’t expecting anyone to come so quickly — or at all.
He crouched behind a slime stump, looked up and winced — the already weak light was fading. The sun had to be going down, and that meant it was going to get a whole lot more complicated. He turned to watch as one of the things lumbered by. At first, he thought the Morg was hunching forward, but then he saw that its head had strangely sunk into its shoulders, and was now little more than a large lump, covered in multiple dark eyes and mouths.