The Plague Forge (Dire Earth Cycle #3)

Skyler leapt as Ana dove. The creature reacted with astonishing reflexes, kicking out even as it lifted its hands to grip Skyler. One viselike hand tucked in under Skyler’s armpit, the other latched over his face, fingers digging into his temples and cheeks so tightly Skyler thought his head might pop like a tomato.

And then he was sailing through the air, tossed away like a harmless toy. He heard Ana grunt from the kick she’d received in the instant before he hit the warm floor. Skyler landed like a confused fish tossed on the deck of a ship. His chin cracked against the rock-hard material as he landed, splitting skin.

Ana grunted again, a wet sound this time as the creature kicked her once more. Skyler rolled in time to see it bend over her, lifting her by the neck. Her face contorted as the two powerful black hands wrapped around her throat. She kicked and clawed in a hopeless effort to free herself.

Skyler’s vision swam. He tried to push himself up, even to one elbow, but his limbs felt sluggish and thick. He shouted, or tried to. All that came out was a mouthful of blood that splattered across the floor in front of him.

The entire room lurched, like an elevator beginning its climb. He thought it was just his shaken body at first but then he saw the creature stagger, if only for a moment. Ana sprang to life in that instant. She brought both legs up, knees to her chest, feet to the subhuman’s chest, and kicked outward with everything she had.

The subhuman lost its grip on her neck and fell backward. Ana dropped like a stone, her back slamming into the now-dim floor. She cried out and rolled to one side, sucking in a lungful of precious air.

Skyler tried again to stand. The room swayed like a ship cresting a massive wave. The creature, on its feet already—fuck it’s fast!—stumbled with the motion as well. Skyler spat the blood in his mouth aside and said, “Over here, bastard.”

The subhuman whirled. Its eyes flared yellow again, and it strode forward, Ana temporarily forgotten. Good, Skyler thought. That was something at least.

In two powerful steps the armored creature stood before him. Skyler tried to lift his hands into a boxer’s defense, but his battered, exhausted limbs hardly moved. He only had time to close his eyes as the sub backhanded him, knocking him a meter to the right and sending him sprawling in a useless tangle of limbs. Skyler felt no pain this time. His mind had somehow removed itself from further agony.

Again he tried to stand, the effort producing only a slight lift of his head from the floor that brought stars to his vision. Once again the room swayed. That’s not helping, goddammit. He lifted his head enough to steal a glance at his attacker. The sub had almost faded into the darkness that had swallowed the room once more. It looked like a shadow made real.

“Well, well. What’s all this then?”

The voice came from somewhere off to Skyler’s left. He thought it a figment of his clouded mind, but there was a familiarity to it. He flopped his head to the side and looked.

Standing just inside the room’s entrance was a naked Russell Blackfield.

I’ve lost my mind, Skyler thought.

The creature heard it, too, though, for it turned to face the newcomer with as much surprise as Skyler felt.

“Blackfield,” Skyler said thickly. “Get out of here. There are weapons below—”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Russell barked, anger palpable. “It’s my turn to be the fucking hero, all right, mate?”

Skyler tried to say more, tried to tell him heroics might be more possible if he was dressed and armed to the teeth. The man’s nudity suddenly registered. He’s exposed, he’s been outside, and yet he’s here. Immune? The odds said no, and Skyler felt a cold flutter of hope that his theory was true, that this plague forge had been shut down. Either that, or Russell was indeed infected. Perhaps the building provided an aura and held him in stasis, or maybe the towers outside yet remained.

Skyler strained his eyes looking for signs of the rash on Russell’s neck, but the light was poor, the angle all wrong.

The subhuman shifted, momentarily caught between three opponents. But it only needed a glance at Skyler and then Ana to decide Russell was the only one it had to worry about.

“That’s right, mate,” Blackfield said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Skyler pushed to get to his elbows and felt a searing stab of pain from his chin. Warm blood trickled down onto his shirt. His arms faltered, and he flopped back onto the floor again. He rolled to his side in time to see Ana staggering to a stand. “No,” he croaked. “Ana, no.”

The creature took a heavy step toward Russell just as the building swayed again. It paused until the motion abated, then it continued its march toward the newcomer. Blackfield somehow held his ground as the hulking armored thing closed the distance, and whether the man was insane or brave Skyler had to respect his tenacity.

Ana found her feet and began a lurching, anguished jog toward the subhuman’s back. This, Skyler thought, deserved respect as well, but he wasn’t about to let her die just to buy Russell Blackfield another few seconds of life. Ignoring the white-hot lance of pain in his chin, Skyler thrust himself to his feet and surged on a path that would intercept the girl.

The creature must have seen something in Blackfield’s eyes. It stopped, turned. Its eyes flared like camera flashes when it saw Ana bearing down, and it fully spun to face her.

Russell took the opening. In two quick steps he leapt onto the subhuman’s back.

In that instant Skyler saw it. Just a flash, but he knew a clutched grenade when he saw one and he watched in horror as Russell’s arms flew around the creature’s neck. And despite everything going on—Russell’s battle cry, Ana’s gasp of surprise, his own boots thudding on the floor as he sped toward her—Skyler heard the pin drop. The slightest tink-tink-tink as it bounced on the floor.

Ana pulled up, unsure what to do, and Skyler hit her in the midsection. He wrapped his arms around her and thrust his legs with all the energy he could muster and more. She screamed in surprise, an accusation of betrayal in her cry that stung Skyler more than any of his injuries.

Even before they hit the ground Skyler glanced back.

The subhuman, large as it was, toppled under Russell’s sudden weight. Its hands were too busy trying to pull Russell’s aside to break its fall and it hit the ground face-first with a single, sharp crack.

The creature bucked upward immediately, somehow getting its elbows underneath itself and pushing. But Blackfield had no intention of trying to strangle the thing. He released his grip at the same moment and used the creature’s own thrust to bounce back onto his knees.

On the floor in front of the creature’s face lay the hand grenade.

Skyler turned away, and fought Ana, who writhed to free herself from his weight. He threw his arms over her head. “Stay down!”

The grenade went off.

Blackfield felt the pulse of raw heat, the concussive wave pound every bit of his skin. Every instinct in his head wanted to shut his eyes in that moment, but he refused. He wanted to see the fucking thing die and he was not disappointed.

The creature’s head and shoulders blew apart as the explosion ripped through it. For a single glorious fraction of a second Russell saw the blood and guts and gore of the human within. The soft, sweet center inside the hard candy shell. He’d have laughed at his thought but a fist the size of a city bus punched him and sent him sailing backward.

For another fraction of a second, this one decidedly less glorious, he felt the astonishing pain of a thousand wounds delivered simultaneously as chunks of the alien’s armor, shrapnel from the grenade, and bits of human flesh slammed into him.

And then, nothing. Not death, just …

Clarity.

In the flash of the explosion he saw the ceiling high above amid the tangle of the strange floor-to-ceiling tubes that filled the room. There, in the center of the ceiling, was a hexagonal section wholly different from the rest of the place. Symbols were engraved into the sections around it, and they glowed briefly in the flash of light, each reflecting back a different color. Then it slipped back into shadow. He felt a strange gladness at having seen it. Whatever it was, he’d fucking seen it. A little reward, finally.

Russell had a dim awareness of his body crashing into the floor. He bounced once and then slid to a stop, still staring upward. One of his legs splayed out at a crazy angle, and he saw a jagged edge of bone sticking upward from the middle of his thigh.

He lifted his head a bit higher to inspect his manhood. Despite the wounds all over his body, that bit seemed to have made it through unscathed. Russell rocked his head back and … stopped short of laughing. He settled for a smile instead. He’d redeemed himself, hadn’t he? Time to leave his lascivious side behind.

A face appeared within his view. Skyler’s ugly mug. He was saying something, but Russell’s ears were ringing. Slowly the words cut through.

“… medical gear in the ship. Just hold on.”

Russell tried to talk but found his mouth was full of blood. He turned his head with an effort that almost cost him his consciousness, and spat. Dark red splatter on an alien floor. Gingerly, he turned back to Skyler. The edges of his vision were blurred now, and getting worse. Darker. “Weren’t expecting me, huh?”

“We’ll get you help, just hang on.”

“Don’t bother. I’m cooked. I did my bit.”

Then Ana was there, too. Beautiful Ana. Her dark hair spilled over her face, hanging down toward Russell.

He tried to smile for her, had no idea if he’d succeeded.

“Blackfield,” she whispered. “Why’d you do it?”

And there it was. There, in the small patch of his vision still clear he saw the look. The same naked admiration she favored Skyler with every time she glanced his way. No fear, no disgust or hated or suspicion. Just pure, genuine respect. It was every bit as worthwhile as he’d hoped.

He coughed; his vision swam. It took effort to find and focus on her again. “For that,” he said, voice thick and growing weaker. “It makes it … made it all …”

A tear formed on her eyelash and dangled there.

Russell found he could twitch the index finger of his left hand. Then his arm moved. Yes, he could lift it. He whole hand shook as it came into view. Blood dripped away. He couldn’t quite manage the reach to Ana’s sweet, innocent cheek, though. She was on the right and Skyler, damn him, was on the left. Russell tapped Skyler’s arm with the back of his hand and the pilot took it in his own. Gently, as if he might cause injury.

“I ran out of air,” Russell said. “You assholes left me to die.”

“Sorry,” Skyler replied, practically choking on a guilty laugh. He sounded sincere and humbled. “We were stuck in here. I’m amazed you made it to us.”

“Yeah. Tell you all about another time, huh?”

Skyler said something else, but Russell’s ears refused to let the sound back in. A good thing, too. It was kind of peaceful in here. He rolled his head slightly to focus on Ana again.

Her lips were pressed into a thin line now. Holding back grief or something. The little teardrop had tumbled away already, leaving a thin, watery trail down her face.

“We’re moving up,” Russell told her. “The whole building, heading to space.” Now I’m a fucking poet, too? He grinned as Ana shot a confused glance at Skyler.

The girl faced him once more. She took his hand from Skyler’s and lifted it to her soft cheek, holding the back of his palm there and letting the warmth seep from her body to his.

He stared into those eyes, lost himself in them even as darkness began to creep into the center of his vision. Russell held her gaze as he slipped into the void.

“I bought the two of you a second chance,” he said. He couldn’t hear his own voice but he could tell from their expressions that they heard him despite the stutters and wet, ugly coughs. “Don’t fuck it up. Vary the pattern. Finish what you came here for.”

“We will,” Ana mouthed.

Russell Blackfield winked at her. Then he died.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Key Ship

2.APR.2285

Tania’s third trip to the Builder ship began much like the first two. Locked in a tin can, with only one person to keep her company, and a hard case containing an alien object of unknown purpose at her feet.

Her companion was Vanessa again, not Skyler, and this time the object in the case had blood on it. Too much blood, Tania thought, though any amount would qualify. The image of Pablo’s stony gaze seemed forever etched on the inside of her eyelids.

Tim sat above her, in the single-seat compartment where the rudimentary controls were. He’d insisted on handling the job, and she’d agreed without hesitation.

Reports came in at a near-constant stream from Karl and others in Belem and aboard Melville Station. The exodus from Camp Exodus, Tania thought dryly. Ammunition dwindled almost as fast as the camp’s population. Every report of a lull in subhuman activity brought hope the worst had passed, a hope dashed each time with frantic and maddeningly sporadic reports of new sightings, new combat.

“We’ll be fighting with knives soon,” Karl said after giving his most recent report. There were still more than three hundred people in camp.

“See that you’re out before that happens.”

“I had a different idea.”

Tania hesitated. She had only Vanessa to look at, and the woman’s eyes held as much intrigue as Tania felt. “Tell me.”

“We’re going to form an inner wall,” he said.

Tania frowned. “There’s no time.”

“There is if we build it out of aura towers.” When she didn’t shoot the idea down outright, he went on. “I figure we can make a ring with a twenty-meter radius. Plenty of room for those of us still here.”