Выбери любимый жанр

Ultimate Thriller Box Set - Crouch Blake - Страница 42


Перейти на страницу:
Изменить размер шрифта:

42

Andy.

In four steps she was at his side, rearing back the keyboard, smashing it against his chest. Eight batlings dropped off. She repeated the move with his back, putting all of her strength into the blow.

It probably hurt, but not as much as being eaten alive.

The demons she killed were quickly replaced by others, covering Andy like a fur coat.

This is futile, Sun realized. We’re all going to die.

Which really pissed Sun off. She tried to block out some of the panic and think. They couldn’t hide, or get away. Killing them one at a time was too slow. What did she know about bats? They were nocturnal, they used radar to navigate, they were eaten by hawks, they hibernate when it gets cold...

“Cold,” Sun said aloud.

At the far end of the Octopus was a fire extinguisher. Sun beelined for it, tossing the keyboard aside. The extinguisher was a big one, at least sixty pounds, and the fire engine red color meant it was filled with carbon dioxide. She yanked it from the wall housing and pulled the pin.

In one hand, she grabbed the funnel cone and aimed at the cloud of batlings. With the other, she pulled the trigger.

A spray of sub-zero CO2 burst from the nozzle with an explosive SHHUSSH sound, freezing batlings as they flew. They dropped from the air, covered in frost. When they hit the ground they twitched and flopped around in a stupor.

“Cover your eyes!” she yelled at Andy before giving him a healthy spritz of healing cold. She then zapped Dr. Belgium, who had curled up into a fetal position near the Purple door.

“Help me! Kill the ones on the floor!”

Frank and Andy began to step on the fallen batlings, while Sun tracked down the remaining few still circling the Octopus. She ran out of CO2 with only one demon remaining, and she managed to swat that out of the sky with a clipboard.

When the last batling had been crushed underfoot, the childhood giggling began again.

Bub.

The demon clapped his hands in glee, his lips peeling back and his tongue obscenely bathing his own face.

Sun ignored the demon and went to Andy, who looked like he’d dipped his head in a bucket of red paint.

“You’re hurt,” she said.

“So are you.” He touched her cheek.

“Let me help you first.”

She sat Andy down and saw most of the blood was coming from two major wounds; one on his nose, and one on his scalp. She found a box of tissue in a desk drawer and gave him a handful to press against his face.

The head wound was worse—a four inch gash that went down deep.

“You need stitches.”

“Got a sewing kit handy?”

“No. But do you trust me?”

Andy offered a lame smile through the wad of bloody Kleenex. “Of course.”

Sun took a stapler off the desk.

“You’re kidding,” Andy said.

“Watch carefully. You’ll have to do me next.”

She opened up the stapler and pinched the edges of Andy’s wound closed. Then she lined it up and pushed down, hard.

CHHHH-CHHHHK.

“Ow!”

“Only three or four more.”

Dr. Belgium wandered over. He’d wrapped his lab coat around his head, like a giant red and white turban.

“Me next,” he said.

Sun had to put six more staples into Andy’s head, and then three into Frank’s.

“Thank you for stapling my head,” Frank said.

“You’re welcome.”

When she finished, she handed the bloody stapler to Andy.

“Press down firm, to anchor them into bone.”

“You and your sweet talk.”

Sun sat and closed her eyes while Andy patched up the wound on her head. She reached up a hand and gingerly felt his work.

“Not bad,” she told him.

Andy looked like he’d been in a hockey fight, but he smiled shyly. Sun had a sudden urge to hug him, but didn’t want to hurt him any more than he already was.

“The doors are all closed,” Belgium said, looking around the room.

“What did you say, Frank?”

“All the doors in the Octopus. That means those bat things were contained. We wouldn’t want any getting out and hurting anyone else.”

“That wouldn’t be good,” Sun agreed.

“And speaking of anyone else—where where where is Dr. Harker?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Dr. Julie Harker had been bathing her new daughter in the sink when she heard the voice over the intercom.

“Attention, this is Race. Everyone meet in the Octopus for immediate evacuation. Repeat, everyone meet in the Octopus, we're all getting out of here. Move your asses, people.”

Harker frowned at the news. Evacuation. Bub must have gotten out.

“No need to rush.” Harker squeezed the sponge over Shirley's head, rinsing the shampoo from her hair. The water was pink with the blood from Shirley's creation.

Birth, Harker corrected herself. Shirley had been born today.

“Happy birthday to you,” Harker sang.

She wrapped Shirley in a bath towel and carried her to the bed.

“Mama needs to find a diaper for her Shirley, yes she does. Maybe an old sheet? What do you think, Shirley?”

Harker located a pillow case, and wrapped it expertly around Shirley’s bottom, securing it with three paper clips.

“There you are. Your first diaper.”

Harker smiled. There would be many more firsts. The first pee-pee and poo-poo. The first nap. The first steps. The first words. A whole lifetime of firsts to share together.

“How’s my little girl?”

Shirley gurgled, and Harker's heart melted. She was so beautiful. So perfect. Harker wanted to savor this moment, to make it last, but she knew she had to hurry. Shirley was just small enough that she could fit in Harker's suitcase. There was a good chance Harker could get her out of here without anyone knowing.

Julie set the baby down and searched the closet for her old luggage, coming out with a carry-on bag. Punch in a few airholes, and it should work fine.

“Perfect,” she smiled. “Now let's dry you off.”

Harker put the towel over Shirley's head and rubbed.

Shirley snarled, low and hoarse, making Harker jump back.

Her daughter stared at her, deep blue eyes burning with hate.

Harker yelped.

Shirley no longer had a face. Harker looked at the towel in her hand and saw her daughter’s scalp.

She’d torn it off.

“No. No no no. Oh my, oh my...”

Shirley hissed at her, a glistening red skull. She stretched her mouth wide to cry and Harker noticed she was growing teeth. They breached her gums with alarming speed, long and narrow and impossibly sharp.

“Oh my Shirley...”

Shirley hissed at her. Her tiny body began to swell, tripling in size. Greasy fur sprouted all over her skin. Her shoulder blades jutted out in points, and her head inflated like a balloon, crackling as the skull bones separated, her eyes bulging out and changing from blue to milky white.

Harker felt faint. She turned to run for the door, but something wrapped around her ankle. Something sharp, that dug deep into the bone.

“MaaaaaaMaaaaaa,” Shirley said.

The pain was unreal. Harker screamed. She continued to scream as Shirley pulled herself toward her mother, her giant mouth snapping like a bear trap, getting closer and closer until—

SNAP!

The teeth closed on Harker’s foot.

A symphony of agony thundered through Harker’s nervous system.

Harker kicked with all of her might. She punched like a crazy woman. But Shirley hung on, continuing to chew.

Before Harker passed out, an ironic thought passed through her mind.

This is Shirley’s first meal.

*

She woke up sometime later. There was no more pain in her foot. Harker quickly realized that was because most of her leg was gone.

Her daughter was perched on the bed, eyes closed. She no longer resembled anything human. Shirley had six legs. She was pale white, with clawed feet and a body like a fat lizard. Her oversized head was crammed full of teeth, and they jutted from her closed mouth like fondue forks.

42

Вы читаете книгу


Crouch Blake - Ultimate Thriller Box Set Ultimate Thriller Box Set
Мир литературы

Жанры

Фантастика и фэнтези

Детективы и триллеры

Проза

Любовные романы

Приключения

Детские

Поэзия и драматургия

Старинная литература

Научно-образовательная

Компьютеры и интернет

Справочная литература

Документальная литература

Религия и духовность

Юмор

Дом и семья

Деловая литература

Жанр не определен

Техника

Прочее

Драматургия

Фольклор

Военное дело