Hive Invasion. James Axler
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to his friends, he saw they’d all heard what he had once the door was open.
Faint voices from below.
Ryan immediately pulled back in case there were any guards nearby. The voices continued talking, echoing down the underground passage. They sounded as if they were fairly far away.
J.B. was beside him in an instant, Mini-Uzi at the ready. “Can you make out what they’re saying?”
Ryan shook his head, his reply just as low. “Too much echo. If I had to guess, it sounds like someone arguing over something.”
He glanced at Krysty. “You got anything?”
She also shook her head. “The storm is overwhelming everything, and something about this building is blocking my ability. It’s like a dead zone in here.”
“No tracks on the way in. They must have been here awhile,” Mildred said.
“No sign vehicles outside,” Jak added. “Caught storm like us?”
“Only one way to find out.” Ryan slowly eased the stairwell door open again. “Jak, you’re on point. Throwing blades for right now—don’t need to cause an alarm if we can avoid it. I want to get the drop on whoever’s down there.”
Jak had unwrapped the T-shirt from around his head and stowed it while making a knife appear in his other hand as if by magic. “Sneak and peek—fun.” He eased through the door, as soundless as a mirage. Ryan gave him a few seconds’ lead, then followed, with J.B. a step behind him.
The concrete stairs were covered in a thick layer of dust, also with no footprints on them. “Where the nuke did they come in from?” J.B. muttered.
“Shh,” Ryan cautioned, although he’d thought the same thing. They’d already encountered burrowing bugs. The last thing he needed to see was some kind of burrowing humans living in here.
Making no noise on the steps, the companions descended to the lower level, with Jak signaling all clear every few paces. A single light shone from an open doorway at the far end of the hall. They passed a few other doors on both sides of the hallway, most hanging open, revealing empty rooms inside. As they progressed down the dark tunnel, the voices became more distinct.
“—take us to the rest of your people, that’s all I’m asking. If she don’t get help, she’s gonna die!”
“What do you expect us to do? Whatever sickness she’s got ain’t like nothing I ever seen before!”
“’Sides, it’s hard to believe you don’t mean us any harm with that blaster pointing at us.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m out of patience, and I’m through asking!”
“Look, we can’t go anywhere until the storm dies down. And she’s right, all we could do is make your friend comfortable until she passes aw—”
A low, loud, bone-chilling moan interrupted the second speaker, the sound of someone in mortal agony. It continued for several seconds, cutting off the argument inside and making Ryan’s skin crawl. He exchanged a glance with Mildred, her eyes white and wide against her dark skin, and got a shrug in return as they drew closer.
Jak stepped up to the side of the doorway now and looked at Ryan, who was already handing him a small, polished metal mirror. Jak crouched and carefully extended it past the door frame to get a look into the room. He held it there for a few seconds, angling it around while the discussion of taking the injured woman somewhere continued. Finally Jak pulled his hand back and turned to Ryan, signaling what he’d seen.
Four people inside, all on far side of the room. Hurt one lying down. Two scavvies sitting against the right wall. Man with blaster standing between them and woman.
With a clear picture of the interior and its occupants now, Ryan was ready to take them. He pointed at Jak, then at the left interior wall next to the door. Jak gave him a curt nod, but waited while Ryan detailed what the rest of their strike party was going to do. When everyone was ready, he held up his hand and counted down from three fingers...two...one.
The albino stepped through the door and took up his position on the left side, while Ryan went in and took up a position on the right side. J.B. came next, followed by Mildred and Krysty. Ricky was staying outside with a nearly unconscious Doc.
“Nobody move, and nobody has to die,” Ryan said, the muzzle of his blaster dead center on the standing man, who turned his head to look at the newcomers in shock. They stood amid several empty freestanding shelves lining the walls, indicating this had once been a storeroom.
It was the break one of the raggedly dressed people sitting against the wall had been waiting for. He launched himself at the man, barreling into him and sending him staggering across the room. The blaster flew from the man’s hand, skittering across the floor to stop in front of J.B., who stooped and picked it up without taking his eyes off the two struggling, cursing figures.
“Fireblast!” Ryan said, striding forward. The scavvie crouched on top of the other man, who was dressed in a relatively clean light blue jumpsuit, and pummeled him with wild, flying fists. The former hostage taker was doing his best to protect his head and face, but his assailant was so pissed that only one out of every three blows was landing.
“All right, enough of that!” Grabbing the one on top by the back of his ragtag jacket, Ryan hauled the short wiry guy, arms still flailing, off the downed man. When the guy tried turning to punch Ryan, he simply lifted him off the floor and held him in midair.
“What’re you— Let me go! You gotta kill him before they kill all of us!” the captive yelled in a high-pitched voice. He was dressed in a patchwork combination of what other people would have called rags, but on closer examination, Ryan saw they were stitched with care and fit the guy’s small frame well. His pants were a mix of canvas, blue denim and leather, and his shoes were worn construction boots that had been repurposed with what looked like rubber patches on the toe and heels. Ryan turned him around to see his face, revealing short-cropped, dirty blond hair framing a definitely female face now twisted into a combination of rage and fear.
“Look, just calm down, all right? He’s unarmed now, and it doesn’t look like you’re in any real danger.”
“You don’t understand!” she cried. “They’ll—”
Another loud groan interrupted her, and everyone glanced over to see another person lying on the floor, a jacket fashioned into a crude pillow under her head. The woman was dressed in the same kind of jumpsuit as the man, except her abdomen was grossly distended, making the fabric bulge out.
“Just relax, Sammee,” the man on the floor said through swelling lips. “Please, help her if you can. That’s all I ask.... I’ll do whatever you want, just help her.”
“You best do what Tully said, kill both of them quick before they come for all of us,” the second person sitting against the wall, a lanky black-haired man, said.
“I’m not taking orders from any of you right now,” Ryan said. “J.B., Jak, watch these three. Mildred, check her out.”
“It’s all right, I’m a healer,” Mildred said as she crossed the room and knelt by the sweating, ashen-faced woman holding her bloated stomach with both hands. “Do you know how long you’ve been pregnant?”
The woman shook her head, but broke in as Mildred began asking another question. “Not...pregnant. It’s...dying.”
Mildred’s brow furrowed. “It? What’s it?”
Sammee opened her mouth as if to answer, but instead let out a high-pitched scream at the top of her lungs. Mildred placed a hand on her stomach, then drew back. “It’s distended and hard...and, oh, my God.”
As Ryan and everyone else watched, something stretched out the woman’s