The Journey of St. Laurent, Chapter 47

Authors note:

A new chapter three weeks in a row. I haven’t done that for a long time. Thanks to DarcKnyt for the edits last time, also thanks to Major and Glenn for commenting. I was pretty tired last night when I finished this one, so I hope it makes sense.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis. If you want to know just as soon as I’ve posted something new, you can watch the RSS feed or follow me on Twitter.

And in case I’ve never mentioned it to you, I’m always grateful when you tell other people about my little fictions.

Chapter 47: No Time For Thinking

The corridor sloped downward and curved to the left. Before we had passed the first available right turn we lost sight of the main hallway. Both sides of the passage here were walled with the alien-growing pods.

London checked behind her. “How many of these things do they have?”

I was huffing and puffing so hard I could barely speak. “Well, they were preparing an invasion.”

There was still plenty of noise, but now it was more jumbled and echoed.

We kept up as fast a pace as we could manage. Rhett’s limp became more pronounced. His heart must have been pumping up a storm, spreading the virus throughout his system.

How long is he going to have?

“That one.” I pointed ahead to the second possible right hand turn. “The soldier said the power station is down there.”

The new corridor was more of the same, and worse. Metal and glass pods along both walls made this narrower passage claustrophobic.

“Everyone look for a room on the left that could be a power station.”

The extended activity put lead in my legs and fire in my lungs. None of us could muster anything beyond walking speeds. We needed to rest, and soon.

Our maximum speed was no more now than a fast walk. We were all tiring out. I hoped we could find a rest soon.

We walked a couple of hundred feet and finally saw green light spilling out of a doorway up ahead.

That has to be it.

Rhett looked down the corridor and then back the way we came. “We need some cover.” He nodded toward the wall. “Let’s see if we can pull some of these down.”

Each pod was connected to the one above and the one below it. The top pod of each stack had two anchors sunk into the wall.

Rhett and I tugged on one, but it didn’t budge.

I stood on my tip toes and wedged the alien cutter back to where I could cut the anchor on a close stack. It wasn’t like cutting through butter, but after several seconds it got through.

As soon as I stepped back from cutting the second anchor, Rhett gave a heave and pulled on the stack. It tipped and then came crashing down.

The top pod slammed into the stack on the opposite wall. The force of the fall snapped the connection between it and the next pod down. The glass in at least two pods cracked. The stench from the leaking fluid erupted directly through my nose and into my brain.

London gave a dry heave or two but kept anything from coming up.

I set to work on the stack directly opposite the first one. I hated being exposed like that, but the far anchor had to be severed.

Where are they?

Finally I cut through then scrambled over the pile and set to work on the second anchor.

Rhett grimaced then reached down and rubbed his leg.

I noticed he was sweating pretty heavily, and wondered how much of it was from exertion and how much if any was due to fever.

Every second I spent with my arm wedged among the pods I felt sure that I was going to be shot in the back by an approaching alien.

London stood guard faithfully with her shotgun at the ready. Every few seconds she checked behind her.

Once the second set of anchors were cut, it took both of us to pull down the stack over the mess we had already made.

Another crash. Another wave of nauseous liquid spilling out. An adolescent-looking alien body half flopped out of one of the newly broken pods. Rhett didn’t even seem to notice it.

I did though, and it was gross.

I had to bend over and took a deep breath.

“I hear it again.” London took a hesitant step back. She lowered the shotgun just a little and stared down the hall. “I can’t tell which way its coming from.”

I looked up just in time to see something come around the bend.

It was one of the bizarre hovering crafts. It was almost too wide to fit in this smaller corridor.

London saw it too, and raised and raised fired in one smooth motion.

Sparks flashed on the craft’s armored hull, but it didn’t slow down. Just the opposite in fact.

Somebody yelled “Run” but I didn’t need to be told. I was already performing a hasty retreat.

The three of us piled through the skinny doorway into the room.

I glanced back just in time to hear the terrific crash of the hover-thing smashing into our makeshift barricade. It struck with enough force to break through. Pieces of the craft itself scraped, bounced, and spun wildly by the doorway along with a fair amount of metal, glass and liquid. The whole mess skidded and clanged to a stop somewhere down the corridor.

Rhett un-slung the rifle. “What are those things?”

At first I thought he was asking about the hovering craft that had just wrecked, but then I realized he was facing the other way.

I spun about to take a look.

Two bizarre tanks dominated the center of the otherwise empty room. They emitted a green light that pulsated and ranged in intensity from bright to near blinding. In the center of each vessel a metallic sphere hung suspended by a tiny wire. Clearish tubes ran down of the four vertical corners and into a round disk that encompassed most of the bottom of each tank. Bubbles streamed out of the disks.

The two tanks made loud humming sounds that throbbed like an electrical heartbeat.

A four inch wide flat wire ran out of the center of the lids up to the ceiling. From there, the wires twisted around each other and then ran out the door.

London walked up and almost touched one before pulling back her hand. “These must be the generators.”

I cocked my head to the side. “That’s it? Two big boxes and two wires? I can get that.”

I reached up with the alien cutter and sliced right through the two lines.

The lights in the hall flickered twice, but didn’t go out.

I pushed the blade of the cutter into the side of one of the tanks. It did not cut right through or shatter the tanks or anything I hoped it might do.

Rhett stuck his head out the door then looked back in. “That thing’s toast.”

The handle of the cutter wobbled and shook. I pushed harder and leaned on it. It made a zapping, grinding noise. I pulled away to see what damage I had done. I hadn’t pierced the tank wall, but I had marred it enough to know that if I continued to push, I would get through.

“This is taking too long.” Rhett aimed at the tank on the right. “You two had better hide back there.”

London and I hustled to the furthest corner, squatted down and covered our ears.

Rhett pulled the trigger. I heard the shot and a second thud directly above my head at the same time. A bit of rocky debris bit into my head.

What the hell? I reached up and felt where it hit, then withdrew my hand. There was a little blood on my finger.

Rhett lowered his gun and stared at the box for a moment.

The box hadn’t shattered or even cracked. It did have a bit of a scuff mark where the bullet had struck, though.

He shook his head and raised his gun again.

I jumped up and grabbed Rhett’s shoulder. “Wait, wait, wait.”

He turned and gave me a decidedly sour look. “What?”

“It ricocheted. A piece of shrapnel hit me in the head.”

“Well, what do you think we should-”

“I don’t want to be-”

“Look out!” London tackled us at a full run.

Our three bodies fell in one big clump to the ground. Three crunching sounds rang out.

At the doorway was one of the hovering crafts. It was too wide to fit through, but its gun was working just fine.

We climbed all over ourselves and dove as one big mass of flailing arms and legs behind the glowing power tanks.

“What are we going to do, now?” London flopped over and sat on her butt, laying her shotgun across her lap.

Rhett sat with his back to the tank and closed his eyes. “Let it waste some ammo.”

The little death-avocado-thing’s gun didn’t make much noise when it fired. The sounds of the bullets bouncing off the tank and the walls were plenty creepy, though.

I knelt and pushed the cutter into the side of the tank. Through the glowing liquid, I could see Rhett’s gun in the middle of the floor.

I wiped some sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm. “How are you feeling, Rhett?”

He frowned and opened an eye. “I’m pretty sure you’ll know when I turn into a zombie.”

I didn’t really expect him to have a good attitude, did I? “How about you, London?”

“I’ve been better.”

Rhett rolled onto his knees. “Give me those packs. I’ve got an idea.”

London shot me a quizzical look.

I shrugged.

Rhett gave the ‘hurry up’ signal with his hand. “Look, they’re going to send somebody or something that can fit through that door pretty soon.”

London slipped off the sleek pack.

I flipped off the cutter. Almost through.

London helped ease the larger pack off my shoulders and gasped. “Corbin, you’re bleeding.”