Hive Invasion. James Axler
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one he’d killed, two more took its place.
Although Ryan possessed a never-say-die mentality that had served him well through countless encounters with adversity, for the first time in a long time, he was starting to wonder whether he and his companions were going to make it out of this valley of death alive.
They’d eaten a few bites of tough, salty beef jerky—the last of their food—and barely gotten a couple of hours of rest when J.B. had woken everyone, saying he’d heard movement from the holes below. With Jak in the lead, throwing blade in hand, they headed higher into the rocky hills, hoping to lose the burrowing monsters before heading out to escape the valley.
Their attempt had been doomed almost from the beginning. With eight legs, the burrow-bugs were well suited to continue their pursuit, their claws clacking on the rocks as they swarmed up after the group. Ryan was hoping their head start would have been enough to discourage pursuit, but Doc was slowing everyone. It also didn’t help that the mutie insects were single-mindedly unstoppable in their quest to kill the intruders.
Traveling through the darkness had turned into a nightmare of running and gunning, trying to cross the broken terrain while constantly keeping an eye out for burrow-bug pursuers behind them and pit ambushes ahead of them. When every step could be the last, it made people hesitant and jumpy. As a result, they were making piss-poor time out of the valley, but it couldn’t be helped.
Ryan had issued a no-blasters rule unless there was no other choice, but that edict had been discarded in the face of the odds against them, although to everyone’s credit, they tried to conserve their ammo whenever possible. But every so often a bug got too close while someone was fighting another one or two and had to be dispatched with a single shot.
After four hours of a grueling pace, interspersed with several skirmishes, Ryan had called a five-minute break so they could catch their breath. Doc hadn’t sat as much as fallen down, his expression nobly stoic, despite the pain he had to be suffering. Leaning heavily on his swordstick, he had staggered through the past hour of travel, and more than once Ryan had thought he was going to have to carry the old man. But Doc hadn’t made a sound or said a word about how he felt, just kept up with them as best as he could. But at this point, Ryan wasn’t sure how much the old man had left in him.
Ricky and Krysty had also broken out the water bottles only to find more bad news—they were practically empty.
“This trip is getting better and better,” Ricky said with a grimace.
* * *
“ONE MOUTHFUL EACH. We’ll find more when we’re out of here.”
Ryan walked over to Mildred and kept his voice low. “You got anything that’ll keep Doc moving for another couple of hours?”
“You read my mind.” She glanced at the tall, thin man, who was drawing his frock coat around him to keep warm in the chilly night air. “He’s a stubborn old coot, I’ll give him that. But he’s also on the edge of exhaustion.” She reviewed her small stash of medicine supplies. “I’ve got a couple of amphetamines that’ll keep him going for a few more hours, but when he crashes, it’ll be hard.”
“As long as it gets him and us out of here, he can sleep for a week afterward, as far as I’m concerned,” Ryan replied. “Try to get him to take it now. When we move out, I’ll hang back and create a diversion to give you all more time to get out.”
“Not to be telling you what to do, Ryan, but you have to be as beat as the rest of us.” Mildred held out one of the small capsules. “Take this. Use it only if you think you’ll need it. It’ll get you through.”
Ryan tucked the pill into his pocket. “Thanks, Mildred. Get Doc taken care of, okay?”
As she headed over to the old man, Ryan went to J.B. and filled him in on the plan. The Armorer’s only reaction was to raise one eyebrow. “If you think it’s best, Ryan, I’m not going to argue. Just make sure you get back to us on one piece, okay?”
Ryan’s answering grin was grim. “Trust me, I’d rather not, but if we all stop to fight them, we risk getting surrounded again. Don’t worry about me. I’m not planning on catching that last train west just yet. We’re almost out of the valley. Just make sure everyone keeps moving, and I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can.”
“See you out there.” J.B. went over to make sure everyone else was ready to move. Ryan went with him.
“How you feeling, Doc?” he asked, checking his face with a small light he carried.
The old man stared back at him with bright eyes. He was breathing a bit faster and had two spots of color high on his cheeks. “Upon my word, Ryan, I am markedly improved from just a few minutes ago. Even my foot does not hurt nearly as much as it had been. That antibiotic Mildred gave me seems to have done the trick.”
“Good to hear,” Ryan said with a glance at the doctor, who shrugged and rolled her eyes in a “what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him” gesture. He turned back to Doc. “Everyone get ready to head out. I’ll join up with you in a few minutes. I’m going to backtrack and make sure none of those bugs are on our trail.”
Krysty rose from her haunches and walked close, her strong hand grabbing Ryan’s T-shirt. “Sure hope you weren’t going to head out without saying goodbye first—”
Ryan cut her off in midsentence with a long kiss, tasting her sweat and musk, which combined to create a scent that would have made his head spin under different circumstances. “I’m not saying goodbye, just so long for now. Get out of this bastard valley and I’ll see you on the other side.”
That had been at least an hour ago, and since then Ryan had been engaged in a constant running fight with the bugs. His diversion had worked, all right, but it might have worked a little too well, since it now seemed that every remaining bug in the place was on his ass and his ass alone.
He heard skittering from just about every direction he could go but up. Backed against a sheer rock wall at least fifteen feet high, Ryan drew his SIG Sauer and raised his panga. The bastards weren’t going to get him without a fight.
The vanguard of the bugs came into sight, a pair sidling along low to the ground, antennae waving in the air as they tracked their prey. Upon locating him, they paused for a moment, then split up, one coming at him from the left, the other heading right.
Clever little bastards, Ryan thought as he lined up his blaster on the head of the nearest one. A squeeze of the trigger sent a 9 mm bullet deep into the head of the bug on the left, making it collapse to the dirt, legs twitching feebly.
Before Ryan could bring his blaster around, the other burrow-bug rushed in, clawed legs waving. Its two arms beat at his blaster hand, making it impossible to aim and fire. Ryan used his panga to keep the bug’s other limbs from stabbing him as well, chopping at them to break or disable them.
Man and mutie strained against each other for a few moments, both seeking to gain the advantage. Then the bug’s head darted down, its mandibles seeking Ryan’s throat. He twisted out of the way just in time, and the insectile jaws clamped onto his shoulder, serrated teeth shredding his skin and flesh.
Forcing his blaster through the mutie’s pummeling legs, Ryan placed its muzzle against the side of the bug’s head and squeezed the trigger. The bullet blew the insect’s brains out just as its claws stabbed at Ryan’s side, opening a long, shallow slash along his ribs.
The bug collapsed on top of him, and Ryan heaved the corpse off with a grunt. He looked all around but didn’t see any others. However, his predator’s senses were still tingling, and he knew he was still in danger from somewhere.
The scrape of a claw against rock was enough to alert him. Ryan lunged forward as the bug overhead leaped off the rock face. It missed landing on him, but an outstretched claw raked down the back of his leg, making him stagger and fall on his face.
Before he could turn, the bug was on him, claws pinning him to the ground. Ryan heaved and lashed out behind him with his panga,