Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it. She’s just in a bad position for this. Do this right, Corbin. You’re a nurse.

I slid her body to the side and rested her head on the ground. I crouched low, put my ear about an inch from her mouth, and looked down toward her feet.

I felt the tiniest trickle of air and watched her chest rise and fall a good half inch or so.

I tried again on her neck.

This time I felt a pulse.

The muscles [...]]]>

Author’s note: Wahoo! I wrote something! I hope it doesn’t suck too bad!

60: Of Fire & Tunnels

I felt for a pulse on her carotid artery. Nothing. My stomach flopped over and my jaw tightened up. A couple of tears ran down my nose and dripped onto her shirt.

Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it. She’s just in a bad position for this. Do this right, Corbin. You’re a nurse.

I slid her body to the side and rested her head on the ground. I crouched low, put my ear about an inch from her mouth, and looked down toward her feet.

I felt the tiniest trickle of air and watched her chest rise and fall a good half inch or so.

I tried again on her neck.

This time I felt a pulse.

The muscles in my jaw relaxed. Weak but steady. Good enough. Time to get moving.

I turned around and scanned through the haze. I couldn’t see any aliens other than the dead one a few feet away. The shouting seemed to be decreasing, too.

Now, how to get her out of here?

Carrying her on my shoulders would be dangerous for her. The smoke was getting thicker and the room was getting warm. Still, there was no way I could drag her far enough to get out of harm’s way.

Fireman’s carry it is then.

The only choice left was which exit to head for. If I went back the way we came in, I’d only be putting off our moment to die. There was no way I could retrace my way through that mess. Plus, there might still be some guards waiting down that hall.

The other exit wasn’t really any more promising. I had to cross a smoke filled room while carrying another human being. Then, if I did reach the hallway, I’d be just as lost. To top it off, who knew what alien surprises I’d find down there?

Still, somehow that other exit just felt like the better choice. I had to go with my gut.

I straddled London then squatted down and hooked my hands under her armpits.

Carrying an unconscious person on your shoulders is not easy. Actually getting said unconscious person up there is downright difficult.

I waddled back and deadlifted and leaned back and lifted some more and eventually I got her body up in an awkward sloppy bear hug.

My lungs complained for more air. Sure hope this works.

I ducked my head and looped her right arm around so that her armpit rested on the back of my neck. Now the really hard part.

Pulling on her right wrist with my left hand, I squatted down again.

Her body slumped down against my shoulders.

I reached my arm between her legs and hooked the back of her right knee with my right elbow. I passed her wrist from my left to my right hand and stood up.

My legs quivered with the exertion. Every gasping breath came with a wisp of smoke that had to be coughed out.

A deafening explosion pummeled my eardrums and shook my brain.

I stumbled to my left, but somehow kept on my feet.

Great. Some of the crates must be explosive.

I didn’t bother trying to run or keep to the shadows or anything like that. My stamina wasn’t going to hold out long enough for anything other than a straight march.

The ever increasing heat and smoke from the fires made each step more unpleasant than the last. The sensation of being completely vulnerable and in the open wrecked havoc on my nerves.

For my part, I simply kept moving and struggled to push the pain, fear, and discomfort out of my mind. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

It may have been only one or two or five minutes, but it felt like an hour before I nearly tripped on the remains of one of the drones.

Almost there.

Another three steps and I was standing over a human body. A nearby fire, possibly caused by one of my own stray shots, flickered just enough to get a look at him.

The drones had shot him up pretty well. There were at least three clotted messes that marked where alien bullets had passed through his chest. His right arm looked like a crocodile had chewed on it. Part of his neck was missing. Dark, dried blood stained the entire scene.

The dancing light also caught a holster on his right hip.

I held my breath and shuffled around the body to get a better look.

The holster still contained a pistol.

My heart jumped a little. My head ran a quick debate on the ethics of robbing a dead man versus the need to survive. What would a gun even help me do that at this point? Still, my gut was screaming at me to grab it. My legs argued it was too much work. My brain was too tired to form an opinion.

Before I could reason it out, I felt my legs bending. I crouched and let my left knee slam onto the floor. The cement stung like a framing hammer. And getting down is the easy part.

I couldn’t lean too far over, or London’s weight was going to shift and send both of us sprawling to the floor.

This is a stupid idea.

Afraid to look down, I groped around with my left hand until I unsnapped the retention strap and wiggled the pistol free.

There was no way I could drop the magazine and see how many rounds remained with only one hand, so I simply jammed the gun as far into my pocket as I could.

Now for the hard part.

I sucked in as much a breath through my nostrils as I could manage and pushed against the ground. Every muscle in my whole body tightened together in an effort to get me standing again. Pain shot from my knee up the back of my spine. A scream blasted through my cracked lips. Multicolored spots flashed around the edge of my vision. Another moment of strain and I was going to collapse.

And then somehow I was back on my feet.

My body involuntarily lurched and limped toward the exit.

I turned and took a final look back at the fires and smoke. No aliens in sight. Where did they all go?

There was no brain power left to come up with an answer. There was only the stoic resolve to keep moving until escape or death.

The sporadic and dancing light that had lit my way to the exit gave way to complete darkness.

Every few feet I stuck out my right foot to make sure the wall was still there. I didn’t want to miss a turn that could lead outside.

The smoke thinned out and pretty soon I was breathing mostly real air. It was a small consolation considering how exhausting walking had become. Every step sent another jolt of pain up my legs and down my arms. London’s weight pressed down on my aching shoulders and screaming back.

I pushed on even though I knew deep down it was useless. Another hundred feet, maybe two, and that would be it. I’d collapse into a heap with London and die. What’s the use in even dragging this out?

I don’t think that I even made it that hundred feet.

It made me even sicker to my stomach to know I’d reached the end of my physical limits. This is it. I unhooked my arm from the back of London’s knee.

Her legs slipped off my shoulders, pulling me backward.

I jerked forward and clung to her arm so that she didn’t slam her head onto the ground.

That was the point when my legs gave up. I did my best to control the speed of the fall, but I doubt it helped much. At least gravity pulled us forward, so that London could fall onto my back before rolling to the floor.

I can’t begin to describe the pain. I felt like I’d been smashed in a garbage press, run through a meat grinder, and then thrown into the street to get run over by passing cars.

A single thought repeated in my mind. How long do I have to lie here in pain before I get to die?

As it turns out, not very long. Within five minutes, a light appeared in the distance.

There really is a light. When does the pain stop?

The light got brighter and closer and began to be accompanied by a sound.

I closed my eyes and wondered why the noise death made sounded so much like frenzied alien shouting.

I put on the brakes to give myself a heartbeat to think. Trapped between aliens and a zombie. No time to freak out. Just keep breathing.

An alien appeared around the far side of the rock pile.

Rhett marched toward me.

The alien raised its weapon and pointed it toward the virus-controlled Rhett.

I instinctively took aim at the guard.

The alien fired. A chunk of flesh sizzled off the back of Rhett’s thigh.

I squeezed the firing handle thing and must have missed my target by a good three feet. It didn’t help that the stupid extraterrestrial gun recoiled in the wrong direction.

It didn’t matter that I missed. [...]]]>

Author’s note:

Hey everybody. Yes, I’m still around. And finally writing again. It’s time to start getting this story wrapped up. I know no one’s going to be reading this tonight, but happy Halloween anyway.

For those of you who have never 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. In fact, if you are new to the site, you probably want to start with the 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.

59: Distraction & Chaos

My brain did a somersault. Holy crap, it’s Rhett. At least it was Rhett, before.

I put on the brakes to give myself a heartbeat to think. Trapped between aliens and a zombie. No time to freak out. Just keep breathing.

An alien appeared around the far side of the rock pile.

Rhett marched toward me.

The alien raised its weapon and pointed it toward the virus-controlled Rhett.

I instinctively took aim at the guard.

The alien fired. A chunk of flesh sizzled off the back of Rhett’s thigh.

I squeezed the firing handle thing and must have missed my target by a good three feet. It didn’t help that the stupid extraterrestrial gun recoiled in the wrong direction.

It didn’t matter that I missed. The green coward threw itself into reverse and scampered for cover.

Rhett spun and lurched toward the retreating guard.

I never did decide exactly why I wanted Rhett to survive a little longer. Maybe I had a lingering bit of camaraderie for the big guy and didn’t want him shot up, even though I knew he was technically dead. Maybe I was just being selfish and wanted his walking corpse to distract the aliens from me as long as possible. Either way, the correct course of action was clear.

If he stays in the open like this, they’ll put him down in no time. If I can just get him to follow me again, I could lead him back out of the little clearing.

I restarted my run, aiming to pass just out of reach behind Rhett.

More of the harsh alien shouting echoed around me. The whole pack would be on top of me any second.

I swung the long alien gun and struck Rhett in the back.

He whipped around and took a surprisingly fast swipe at me.

I didn’t wait to see if he was going to chase me or return to his pursuit of the alien guard. Instead I headed for cover.

That’s about the best I can do.

More flashes of alien gunfire lit the room behind me. The high ceiling seemed lower and lower as the giant room filled with smoke.

A pained alien scream cut above the rest of the shouting.

Hopefully that’s one of those jerks getting bitten.

All the crates at this end of the cavern were either coated with or turned into rubble by falling debris. I wondered what the army had used to level and seal the entrance like this.

I crawled, crouched and scrambled my way toward the collapsed end of the room, doing everything I could to stay in the shadows. The further I proceeded, the less light I had to navigate.

Another scream of pain echoed in chorus with the shouts of command and anger. It was music to my ears.

I swung wide and headed general direction of the entrance I hadn’t used. It was my best shot of getting out of here.

By now, errant plasma had lit at least a dozen crates on fire. The smoke ceiling edged lower and lower. It wouldn’t be long before visibility dropped to nil. And of course there was also that little problem of all the breathable oxygen getting used up by the flames.

Another minute or two of sneaking around and I saw five of the alien-hover-death-avocado-drones. All pointed toward the entrance rather than the room interior.

Two motionless forms lay prostrate in the center of the doorway. I decided they had been the scouts that the survivalist camp had sent to check out the second old mine entrance.

I knew there’d be no way to slip past the hovering drones, so I braced the alien rifle against the corner of a crate.

This is the most awkward gun I have ever fired. I wondered if it wasn’t some sort of re-purposed mining tool. They should have spent less time trying to scare governments into submission and more time studying us.

I took a couple of deep breaths and decided on a retreat path if my little assault didn’t go so good. With that in mind, I did my best to aim at the closest drone. Come on, self. Control your breathing. I squeezed the handle-trigger-thing.

A shower of sparks flew as the plasma tore into the side of a metallic sentry.

I squeezed the trigger again and again.

The four other drones spun around and returned fire.

Burst after burst of plasma and shrapnel and sparks lit the space between me and escape. Three drones in all collapsed to the ground.

The other two kept firing, drilling hole after hole in my cover.

I noticed the front end of my gun getting white hot. The sight made my stomach turn. I don’t think it’s supposed to do that.

The two remaining drones drifted apart and then advanced at me.

I spun and ran back toward the other fray, keeping as many crates between me and the drones as possible.

Little projectiles whizzed through the air all around me. Fires and lanterns around the room cast little light. Dancing shadows blanketed the floor. The room, while immense, shrunk significantly when I was crossing it at a dead run.

I stubbed my toe about every third step in my frenzy to escape. Before I could formulate any sort of plan, I tripped, fell, and skidded on my knees and elbows into the little clearing near the big rock pile.

The green-skinned crowd had chosen that very spot to rally. At least eight or nine of them stood in the center of the space.

I didn’t think. I didn’t have time. A primal scream gurgled up from my toes, accelerated up my spine and exploded out my mouth like I was some sort of bloodthirsty lunatic. I steeled my grip on the rifle, launched myself to my feet and charged the guards.

Most of the aliens just stood there wide-eyed and dumbfounded. A couple had the presence of mind to fumble with their weapons.

One second later the drones popped onto the scene.

I dove into the center of the shocked crowd.

The drones kept firing after me.

The aliens freaked out. Some ran and a couple returned fire. They must have thought that I had hijacked the hovering nasties.

From the corner of my eye I saw Rhett step back into the clearing.

I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as fast as I could.

A hand reached out, slapped me on the back, and grabbed hold of my makeshift bandages.

I dropped my center of mass a bit, twisted, and pushed against the floor as hard as I could. Must keep moving.

The hand pulled back on my bandages.

I spun to the right and then jerked to the left.

The alien who had a hold of me lost its balance but didn’t let go.

The fabric split and tore away from the wound on my side. I grimaced at the pain.

My assailant fell face first onto the dirty floor.

And then I was free and moving again.

Random plasma bursts and alien screams filled the air. The hovering sentries went crazy, spraying their little metal missiles at anything moving.

I rounded the rock pile and headed back in what I hoped was London’s direction.

The aliens behind me were too confused and freaked out to chase me. Smoky haze had reached down to eye level. This is going to be my only chance to get us out of here.

I couldn’t run any more even if I had wanted to. My knees ached. My lungs screamed for oxygen. Still, I couldn’t let myself stop.

Up ahead, I could make out the doorway London and I had used.

Almost there.

I rounded a stack of crates to see the back side of an alien about halfway between where London had run and me. It was lurching as it walked. That probably meant it was a zombie.

I lifted the bizarre gun, took a deep breath, and squeezed the mechanism.

A flash of plasma tore into the center of the alien’s upper back.

The lanky form stood motionless for a moment, then crumpled to its knees before finally collapsing onto its face. Just beyond the fallen alien lay a still body obscured by hazy smoke.

Is that- I jumped over the corpse and got a better look. London!

The redhead was sprawled on her back with her head jammed up against a crate at a funny angle. She had obviously fallen backwards, and the impact split her scalp wide open. Blood from the head wound lay puddled and coagulated on the floor. There were no further visible injuries.

When you’re in emergency medicine and you’re with a patient, there is often no time for displays of emotion. If you want the patient to survive, you have to quickly but methodically check for all life-threatening injuries then begin treatment immediately. Once you’ve done all you can and either the patient stabilizes or someone relieves you – that’s when you can step back and let yourself feel the gush of fear, anger, sorrow, or loss. If you lose it before then, you’re not much help to anyone.

I guess you could say by now I was way off my peak nursing game. There was no holding back the emotion.

Tears clouded my eyes. The corners of my mouth pulled down into a grimace. My whole body shook. No, no, no! Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead. I dropped the alien gun, fell to my knees, and checked for vitals.

Most of the aliens snapped their attention back to me and returned fire.

I threw myself back behind cover.

Chunks of wood along with twisted metal parts scattered with each successive volley. Whatever they were shooting packed a punch on the surface but didn’t penetrate much. Still, it wouldn’t take long for that alien plasma to eat through and barbecue me.

I turned to peek around the corner again and saw open flame.

What was left of my crate was on fire.

I pulled up into a crouching position with my back to the attackers.

Their rate of fire slowed. Maybe they were squinting their giant eyes to [...]]]>

Author’s note:

Hey everybody! Long time no see. Thanks to all of you who stopped by and said hi during my long absence, including DarcKnyt, Devin, Tyler,  Mal, & coleslaw98Mo, as well as folks who left messages on posts other than chapter 57.

I hope this chapter makes sense. I didn’t even give it a proofread once I was done…

For those of you who have never 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. In fact, if you are new to the site, you probably want to start with the 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.

58: Firefight

Two quick taps of the trigger. I felt the recoil but barely heard the noise of my pistol.

Most of the aliens snapped their attention back to me and returned fire.

I threw myself back behind cover.

Chunks of wood along with twisted metal parts scattered with each successive volley. Whatever they were shooting packed a punch on the surface but didn’t penetrate much. Still, it wouldn’t take long for that alien plasma to eat through and barbecue me.

I turned to peek around the corner again and saw open flame.

What was left of my crate was on fire.

I pulled up into a crouching position with my back to the attackers.

Their rate of fire slowed. Maybe they were squinting their giant eyes to better see whether they had tagged me or not.

None of the dozens of boxes around the room could provide me with any more cover. There was only one option that might provide me with better safety.

Gotta move quick.

I set my jaw and counted down to three in my head.

Without another glance back, I flung the lantern behind me and sprinted for the big pile of boulders in the center of the room.

A new wave of bright flashes lit the cavern to my right.

Sprinting is perhaps too speedy a word for what I was doing. Still, I shuffled my increasingly heavy feet as fast as I could. Each step shot a fresh stab of pain up my left side.

With the dancing shadows swallowing me and all the debris burning behind me, they would have had trouble hitting me even if they had been fantastic marksmen.

I stumbled my way around the pile of rocks and collapsed behind a big enough boulder. Every organ in my body screamed for air. My lungs felt like someone had stoked up some charcoal briquettes inside them. Colored dots flickered at the edge of my vision.

The little ER nurse in my head announced that unless I got the oxygen level in my blood up immediately, I’d be passing out or possibly going into circulatory shock.

I can’t have lost that much blood, can I?

I gasped and coughed until finally I controlled my shaking enough to function. My breathing slowed and deepened.

The alien gunfire slowed and stopped.

What are they doing now?

I twisted my neck around and took a peek.

The group of aliens hadn’t moved yet. They just pointed green fingers, discussed and planned.

What if they go for London first?

My gun was useless at this range except to remind them that I was here.

I craned my arm around the boulder and fired a few wild shots to do just that.

I need keep them focused on me.

The lighting made everything seem gray and fuzzy, but it was enough to let me I watch as my trembling fingers ejected and then jammed bullets into the empty magazine.

Every few seconds, I stuck my head above the rocks to see what was happening.

Within a few minutes the aliens fanned out and slowly moved my way.

In all the excitement, there was still nothing from London. Not another shotgun blast. Not a scream. No ranting. Nothing. That had to mean she was either seriously hurt or dead.

I had to admit I wasn’t much better off. After all, even though they probably hadn’t had a whole lot training hunting down fugitives, there weren’t that many places to hide. Sooner or later, they’d catch me.

I couldn’t help but feel like I was about to die. I had come close to death several times over the last little while. My time had to finally be up.

With that heavy thought hanging over my head, I questioned everything I had done that led me here. If I hadn’t brought that folder to Jex, he wouldn’t have released its secrets to the world, and the aliens wouldn’t have been forced to go public.

If they hadn’t have gone public, they also wouldn’t have attacked us the way they did. So, as far as I knew I was responsible for the deaths of maybe thousands… so far.

Not to mention the fact that I had instigated a jailbreak and acted as catalyst for one of the aliens’ deadly attacks.

And what if the fire I had built to destroy the cooler with the virus wasn’t enough? What if it burned out and left viable virus cells? I hadn’t stuck around long enough to make sure it was thoroughly reduced to ashes.

What the hell was I doing here, underground in a mine-turned-alien-factory-base? I wasn’t a Navy Seal or a Marine or anything. I was a nurse, trained to help in medical emergencies.

Medical emergencies. I sneered and allowed a humorless chuckle to escape. And now I’m causing them.

I put the gun down on a rock next to me and used both hands to push on my temples.

Has my mania for revenge made me blind and stupid? Do I even need to be here at all? Certainly eventually we as a nation would have fought back. Have I been swept up in a fury of bad decisions?

Why did I even keep trying? What with the lack of resources, the spreading virus, and the angry guards, I’d be dead before too long anyway.

My stomach churned and bile crept up the back of my throat. My limbs shook. Most of my body, but especially my wounded side ached. A tear or two rolled down my dirty face.

I closed my eyes, hit my head back against the boulder, and prayed for a quick death.

So, is this it then? Do I just give up? Am I done?

Somewhere on the other side of the rocks, green skinned aliens with guns crept ever closer.

I found it difficult to care. I was too busy marinating in the rotten air of self pity and pain.

Then, a funny thing happened.

A vision popped into my head of London lying on the floor in the fetal position clutching a broken leg. Deep down I knew the image was fake. I just made it up in my head.

Still, that one thought was all I needed to turn the corner away from dispair. I’d rather die than abandon her. If she’s alive, I’m getting her out of here.

I pushed all the other depressing thoughts from my mind to focus on how to get back to London. There’d be time enough for wallowing in guilt after we escaped.

I opened my eyes, snatched up the pistol, and crawled across and up the pile of boulders to get a better look.

From the higher vantage point, I got a better picture of what was going on in the room.

Behind me was the pile of rubble that had been the main entrance. Also there was a collapsed piece of massive equipment. It had a claw on one end, so it was probably what the aliens had been using to move the debris to the pile on which I now stood.

Just left of center ahead of me was the entrance the guards and I had used.

To my right and left were larger doorways. I had the impression the large hallway to me left had been the one we had used when we first entered the base.

Something was blocking the entrance to my right. Several somethings, actually. The more I squinted at them, the more they looked like avocados that had been cut in half.

If that hallway is guarded, it has to be the one I want, right?

I could see for or five of the guards making their way toward my position. The rest were lost to me behind the various piles of crates.

Three or four of the crates burned brightly now, lighting that side of the immense room quite well.

Behind the line of alien guards limped another alien. This one moved differently, in a bizarrely focused manner without looking around.

My eyes widened. If it moved like that, it could only mean one thing.

That alien is a zombie.

I made my way toward the base of the pile.

I was almost to the bottom when the first alien rounded a boulder to my right.

Where did that come from?

We stared at each other for what had to be five long seconds before my survival instinct kicked in and I brought the gun up.

The green bastard fired without aiming and the shot went wide to my left.

It was kind of dim to see the front sight, but I took the extra second or two to steady my hand and make it count.

Its second shot whizzed by, much closer than the first.

I pulled the trigger.

The back of its head exploded and its body crumpled to the ground.

The rest will be here any second.

I jumped from the rock pile, hoping to get on surer footing. I misjudged the landing and fell flat on my face. My pistol skittered somewhere out of sight.

I frantically scanned the ground for the gun. Back in the darkness I noticed a dim green light slightly bobbing and getting closer.

A wave of relief washed over me. London! She’s okay!

The approaching alien guards with their lanterns splashed light on larger and larger slices of the terrain where before had only been ominous shadows.

With the zombie alien behind them and both of us shooting from this side, we might be able to scatter them well enough to escape.

Still no sight of my gun. Time for the next best thing.

I scrambled up from all fours. “Keep me covered until I grab its rifle!”

A few random blasts scorched where the aliens were firing at shadows. Pretty soon, this side of the room would be ablaze, too.

I ran for the fallen guard’s rifle.

As I rounded the pile, two alien guards spilled into view.

Too close to stop now.

I jumped into a skid like I was sliding into home.

Hot plasma scorched the air where my chest has just been.

I clamped a hand onto what I believed was firing mechanism of the alien rifle.

It jumped in my hand and another white-hot flash of plasma lit the scene.

The two guards jumped even though the shot was nowhere near close.

I twisted my body, pushed up with my free hand, and pumped my legs on the ground.

In an instant I had rounded the corner enough to be out of the line of fire.

I looked up see London’s progress. A figure stepped from between two boxes into the brightening light.

My stomach tightened and a cold blast shivered up my spine.

I hadn’t seen London with her glow stick after all.

It was Rhett.

I extended a hand and let my finger brush against the wall. “Plus, things don’t get any better for us from here on out. We’re just going to get more tired, thirsty, and beat up the longer we stay down here.”

“Way to keep up the old positive attitude, Corbin.”

“Yeah, well, you know…”

I hadn’t noticed before, but now I saw the doorways that lined this hallway. There weren’t any strange bunks put in yet, but these were definitely meant to eventually become living quarters.

I stared at each doorway [...]]]>

Author’s note: For those of you who have never 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. In fact, if you are new to the site, you probably want to start with the 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.

57: Entrance No More

London bit her lip and shrugged. “I guess that’s as good a plan as any. I doubt we’d be able to find our way back to where we came in anyway.”

I extended a hand and let my finger brush against the wall. “Plus, things don’t get any better for us from here on out. We’re just going to get more tired, thirsty, and beat up the longer we stay down here.”

“Way to keep up the old positive attitude, Corbin.”

“Yeah, well, you know…”

I hadn’t noticed before, but now I saw the doorways that lined this hallway. There weren’t any strange bunks put in yet, but these were definitely meant to eventually become living quarters.

I stared at each doorway as we passed, wondering if there was an alien hiding inside. Sometimes, I could even convince myself that I saw eyes shining a reflection from London’s glow stick. I pulled my pistol from its holster. No reason to keep it put away.

“Where did it all go?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Where did all what go?”

“The mine couldn’t have had all these rooms before it was turned over to the not-so-little green men. They must have done a huge amount of excavating. Where did they haul it all?”

“Huh, I hadn’t thought about that. I guess I’m a little more concerned about what is still in here than what has been taken out of here.”

“I’m just trying to keep my mind from concentrating on how creepy this all is.”

I gave her a sideways glance with a smirk. “Creepy? Here I was thinking this was truly romantic portion of the date.”

“So now this is a date?”

“Yeah, I’m calling it ‘Crisis Dating’. It’s going to catch on huge. Just you wait.”

“So let me get this straight. In crisis dating, you rescue someone from a dangerous situation only to immediately put them in even more dangerous situations? And when you get to the most isolated, the most hopeless, the most bizarre situation possible, you call that the romantic part.”

“Well, I haven’t thought it all the way through yet, but yeah. Although I don’t think it has to start with a rescue.”

“So it’s pretty much the extreme version of a haunted house.”

“I think you’re catching the vision.”

We let the banter tail off as we approached the dimly lighted hallway.

We raised our guns and carefully turned the corner. The corridor had once been lit by at least a dozen lanterns. Now, only one of the lighted spheres remained. It lay half kicked in a few feet away. The rest had been carried off or crushed by the fleeing crowd.

I picked it up as we proceeded.

With only the one lantern and a glow stick providing lighting, the feel of this corridor had gone from weird and almost ceremonial to dangerous and menacing.

We strained to see into the shadowy spaces of the rooms on either side as we passed.

It took us what felt like an hour, but finally we reached the room where they had held London. The door was ajar.

I wondered whether I’d feel better if we found Rhett or if he had already shuffled away. I hesitated just one more moment, then pulled the big metal door open and stepped back.

No Rhett.

I can’t say exactly that I was relieved. The next time we saw him, if there was to be a next time, he would no longer be human. He’d be a virus-controlled walking corpse.

On the floor lay the shotgun shells I had dropped. Most had been stepped on and mangled, but London was able to quickly find four more that were still in useable condition.

I stuck my head in the room across the corridor, hoping to see where I had dropped the cutting device. No such luck.

We left our mess behind and turned the sharp corner, after which the tunnel cut back to the left.

A few cautious steps later, the corridor opened up into an immense cavern, big enough that the light coming from my puny lantern seemed to hardly reach the far side.

A slowly oozing silence blanketed the scene like something was out there stalking us.

I compulsively shivered for a moment.

Roundish supports raced up uneven and metal-coated walls and held up the strange criss-crossing beams that supported the high ceiling. A pile of boulders and rocks dominated the middle of the room. Crates, sometimes stacked three or four high, littered the room like a maze. Between these boxes and the pile of rocks, I couldn’t see much of what sat on the ground.

Anything could be out there.

From the corner of my eye, I saw London stretch and shake her hand before resuming her clench on the stock.

A few abandoned alien lanterns scattered throughout the room cast a web of shadows.

From what I could tell, the far wall was no more than a pile of twisted metal and rubble.

“Corbin, I think that’s-”

“The front door? Me too. At least it was.”

“Too bad, I don’t see any light-”

A groaning noise echoed around us.

“What was that?”

I lifted my left arm so I could brace my gun-holding hand’s wrist.

A second low moan crawled its way through the messy expanse. The noise sounded like it came from somewhere over to my right.

I glanced over at London for some kind of confirmation.

She nodded toward a pile of crates to our right.

We rounded the closest pile and saw nothing.

What is in all of these, anyway?

London caught sight of something in the shadows of the big stack ahead and pointed.

Is that a foot?

We tiptoed our way up to the stack and edged around the opposite side. I still don’t know why I thought I could sneak up on anybody while carrying that lantern. I guess that’s why I ended up as a nurse and not a Navy SEAL.

Just before we could spring around the corner, a bloodcurdling scream split the silence.

I lunged around the corner.

Three aliens lay on the floor. One was propped up against the container with its eyes rolled back and legs extended. One quivered in the fetal position. One knelt, hunched over and clutching its head.

That one has to be the screamer.

All three had visible bite wounds on their face or hands. Their skin seemed to take on a paler shade of green. It wouldn’t be long for any of them.

The kneeling alien looked up at me then vomited.

I hopped a step back.

A chunk of the crate nearest my head flashed and then disappeared with a harsh crack.

I ducked and spun.

Two more blasts tore into the pile of crates.

I stayed crouched.

London sprinted for the close wall to get a better shot.

Two alien guards stood partially obscured by crates and the cavern entrance.

I pointed my handgun directly at one of the green heads and squeezed the trigger.

The guard twisted and dropped its weapon. Must have hit him in the shoulder.

I scurried in an arc toward the center of the room and better cover.

White hot bursts of alien plasma flashed around me. One of the guards yelled instructions to the others.

I threw my self to my butt and skidded to a stop behind a large crate.

The shouting continued.

I peeked over the edge of the crate.

At least three more shots sizzled by my ears.

The two guards had only been the front of the pack. Now coming through the doorway were about fifteen guards. After their hasty retreat, they had obviously taken the time to get organized. It was possible they also had an idea of exactly what was going on with the virus. They might be in the cavernous room to take care of any further infection.

It was up to a redheaded schoolteacher and an ER nurse to see they didn’t succeed.

London’s shotgun blasted.

The flashes around my crate stopped for the moment.

I rolled and popped out to the right of my crate just far enough to take aim.

I was visited in my office by an outside lawyer, who explained the situation in a rehearsed voice, hurrying through long passages with short exhalations of breath; the reality show currently filming in our office was a cross-branding-promotion for Camp San Andreas, in the form of a new campaign to be directed by Jonathon. The format itself was also a backdoor pilot for a possible cable mid-season replacement show, working title, “Office Politics“.Each prospective season the show would film in a different, real-life, workplace where employees would compete against each other for their current positions while working on projects for an appropriate corporate sponsor. I signed my contract, promising me six paid weeks through filming, two days for pickups and [...]]]>

Another excerpt and a another author to check out. Here’s a little piece of stockholm, a romantic comedy in an unfree society. I’ll be posting an interview with Kian Kaul, the book’s author, in just a couple of minutes.

I was visited in my office by an outside lawyer, who explained the situation in a rehearsed voice, hurrying through long passages with short exhalations of breath; the reality show currently filming in our office was a cross-branding-promotion for Camp San Andreas, in the form of a new campaign to be directed by Jonathon. The format itself was also a backdoor pilot for a possible cable mid-season replacement show, working title, “Office Politics“.Each prospective season the show would film in a different, real-life, workplace where employees would compete against each other for their current positions while working on projects for an appropriate corporate sponsor. I signed my contract, promising me six paid weeks through filming, two days for pickups and a compensation package upon completion.

“What’s Force Majeure?”

“It essentially means an unforeseeable, unavoidable disaster. Or an ‘Act of God’, if you will. Sign at the tabs.”

I hovered my pen over the line at the bottom. The lawyer narrowed his eyes and fingered his smartphone. “Sign at the indicated points, please.”

“Did you know that dotted lines were actually made up of tiny print, so infinitesimal it appears as a slightly broken line to the naked eye?”

“Look, dude…”

“Hey, I’m the crazy guy, right?” I slashed an ‘X’ along the line.

“You may believe that’s not a legally acceptable signature but it, in fact, is. I can initial it later, at my convenience.” He tugged the contract away from me.
“Hey, what about my cop—”

“Copies will be provided.” He slammed the door behind him.

On my way to the big kitchen Karen suddenly stood up from where she must have been leaning, appearing relaxed, at some assistant’s cube. I noticed two camera operators closing in, triangulating a completely spontaneous conversation with completely spontaneous over-the-shoulder coverage. Karen stepped toward me and then waited in place, looking at me but not speaking. In my peripheral vision I saw the operator on my right wave a hand. She suddenly activated, a brightness and clarity appearing in her eyes and cheeks.

“Carver, hey. What’s the haps?”

“You know, Hapsburg dynastic inbreeding, treachery and whatnot.” I looked around to see the small crowd of plebs who’d formed to watch the cameras watching us.

Karen just nodded, her pre-selected reaction regardless of what I’d said. “Yeah, totes. Hey, can I bend your ear for a few, in mine?”

“Yours?”

“My office.” Flatly.

“Sure.”

Neither of us moved. The light mounted on the camera framing me went out. The operators lowered and relaxed their stances.

“Why didn’t you go?”

“I thought you were leading the conversation. I didn’t want to upstage you.”

“Right. Well, I thought I was indicating for you to follow me.”

“You didn’t move, though.”

“It’s alright, they can probably just cut straight to inside my office.”

“Are we going into your office now?”

Karen twisted her upper torso and called out to someone further in the cube farm. “When’s lunch?” She turned back, looking past me.

A man’s voice drifted forward, “Half. You got time.”

“We need to pow-wow for a mo.”

“I didn’t really get any of that.”

“Yeah, so we’re kind of wondering why you haven’t congratulated Jonathon on the H&S campaign. I mean, it’s been long enough.”

“I did. At the party. You were at least three feet away, wearing a low-cut two-piece top and distressed jeans with sequins going up the—”

“No, that doesn’t mean shit to anyone. I mean why haven’t you been posting about Jonathon on your profile? Everyone else here is. How do you expect anyone to know you supposedly said something to him at a nightclub?”

“Well, I did congratulate him so…”

“No, you didn’t. You might wanna read your contract through again. You’re required to mention Jonathon three times a week through the end of shooting. He’s our crea-ti-ve dir-ect-or, mmmkay?”

“I’m Thane,” the shorter man with the lighter, closely cropped hair says. He points to the guy standing next to him. “This is my brother Mort. Our last name is Grym. It’s funny, you won’t get it right away, but you will in a minute.”

“And you’re dead,” Mort points to the man on the floor impatiently.

Thane shakes his head. “Geez, Mort.”

Mort’s the younger of the two. He stands about two inches taller. He keeps his dark hair long and unruly, slicked back with oil and grease. He’s dressed in a pair of ratty jeans and a stained t-shirt. The brown overcoat that looks like it had been to Hell [...]]]>

Here’s chapter one from the paranormal crime thriller Two and a Half Dead Men by Jason Krumbine. Later today I’ll be posting an interview I had with Jason.

one

“What the hell?” the guy on the floor says, appropriately freaking out.

“I’m Thane,” the shorter man with the lighter, closely cropped hair says. He points to the guy standing next to him. “This is my brother Mort. Our last name is Grym. It’s funny, you won’t get it right away, but you will in a minute.”

“And you’re dead,” Mort points to the man on the floor impatiently.

Thane shakes his head. “Geez, Mort.”

Mort’s the younger of the two. He stands about two inches taller. He keeps his dark hair long and unruly, slicked back with oil and grease. He’s dressed in a pair of ratty jeans and a stained t-shirt. The brown overcoat that looks like it had been to Hell and back originally belonged to their father, with whom he shares the same dark brown eyes.

“What?” He holds up his wrist to show Thane the watch. “Do you see what time it is?”

Thane looks at the face of the watch and then at Mort. “Yeah. It’s a quarter past three.”

Mort’s face scrunches up. He checks the watch himself, tapping the faceplate with his other hand. He looks out the window as though to confirm it. It’s dark out and the moon is starting to rise.

“That’s not right,” he says.

“I know,” Thane replies. He stands straight, compared to his brother’s slouched posture. His clothes are clean and his jacket is stain free. He’s got his mother’s light blue eyes. “That watch hasn’t been able to tell the correct time ever since you got it.”

“It was Dad’s watch,” he says, like that was supposed to kill the argument.
“Which explains why he was always late.”

“Whatever,” he runs a hand through his dirty hair. “There’s a fight on in an hour. I don’t know want to miss it.”

“Of course,” Thane mutters.

“What?” Mort asks.

“Nothing,” Thane says aloud.

“Excuse me, but what the hell?” the guy on the floor asks again.

The brothers give the man on the floor their attention.

“You’re dead,” Mort repeats. “D-E-A-D,” and he tears off a bite from his foot long sandwich he had insisted on bringing up with him.

“Are you threatening me?” the guy on the floor asks.

“We’re not threatening you,” Thane says, trying to calm him down. “Do you have to eat that right now,” he asks Mort, pulling out the crumpled paperwork from his jacket pocket. “It doesn’t lend itself to a professional image.”

“Yes, Thane, I have to eat it right now,” he says between bites. “You never want to stop for dinner.”

“We eat when we’re not working,” Thane crouches down next to the guy on the floor. “Hi,” he says to him.

“Easy for you to say,” Mort says. “You weren’t blessed with Mom’s low blood sugar. Do you know when my last meal was?”

“No.”

“Neither do I,” Mort says. “That’s how much I had to drink last night. So forgive me for trying not to die of starvation.”

Thane rolls his eyes and checks the name on the paperwork. “Paulie?” he says to the man on the floor. “That’s your name, right? Paulie?”

The man’s eyes twitch back and forth between the two brothers. He’s confused and probably more than a little freaked out. His face glistens with sweat.

Mort sneezes and Paulie jumps a little.

Thane gently smacks Paulie’s cheek. “Hey, Paulie, I need you to focus.”

He looks back at Thane but his eyes are still glazed over.

“Your name’s Paulie, right?” Thane tries one more time. He likes to be sure.
He blinks, shaking his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I think,” he trails off. “What happened? I’m dead?”

“Yeah. You got yourself shot at point blank range with a double barrel shotgun,” Mort chimes in helpfully. “Boom. Instant death,” he pretends his sandwich is a gun and mimes shooting with it.

“For crying out loud,” Thane mutters again. “Do you mind?”

“Yes, I mind,” Mort says. “There’s a fight on in an hour. I don’t want to miss it. I promise to coddle the next one.”

“You’ll be lucky if I bring you along on the next one,” he says under his breath.

“What?”

“Just stand there,” Thane says aloud. “Just stand there and eat your stupid sandwich.”

“Gladly.”

The older brother shakes his head and turns back to Paulie “Do you remember what happened?”

Paulie’s face scrunches up. He’s clearly thinking real hard, but it’s not something he’s used to. His face almost looks like it’s mimicking someone else.

“I, uh,” he stutters and trails off.

“It’s okay,” Thane says. “Most people who suffer this kind of trauma tend to have temporary amnesia.”

“You’re saying I’m dead?” he asks again.

“Buddy,” Mort cuts in again, “you’ve got your legs violently separated from the rest of your body. I can see parts of your entrails on the fireplace. It is not possible for you to get any deader.”

Paulie’s eyes go wide and suddenly he seems to be aware of his surroundings.

It’s a middle-class suburban home, about six blocks from the A-Line. They’re in the living room and it’s in shambles. There was a fight with a clear winner and loser. And, sure enough, Paulie’s upper half is separated from his lower half.

And his entrails were definitely on the fireplace.

“What the-” Paulie broke down into a stream of obscenities as he twisted his neck around, trying to take it all in at once.

Thane lets him go on for a few seconds before clamping his hand down over Paulie’s mouth. He immediately regrets it. It’s like touching a thousand tiny ants all moving around together at the same time. He hates touching dead people.

Thane looks back at his brother. “Thank you.”

He tosses Thane the cuffs. “No problem. Can we please get going now?”
Thane catches the cuffs with his other hand. Paulie eyes them and they’re not making him any calmer.

Thane keeps his hand securely over his mouth. The tiny invisible ants squirm around, like they’re trying to burrow themselves into Thane’s hand.

“Okay, this isn’t what it looks like,” Thane tries one more time. “We aren’t who you think we are. And these,” he shakes the cuffs, “aren’t normal handcuffs,” he twists them around so Paulie could see his name, PAULIE, etched into the metal. “I would like to explain everything to you in a calm manner, but I can’t do that if you’re going to freak out and swear like a some diseased ridden prostitute that just got gypped out of her share by her pimp. So, do you promise to calm down?”

Paulie hesitates a moment but nods his head.

“Good, I’m going to remove my hand now,” Thane pulls his hand back and immediately feels better. He fights the urge to wipe it against his pants. Paulie keeps silent. “So, here’s what happened, Paulie. This place belongs to Steven Waldo. Mr. Waldo walked in on you trying to steal his priceless collection of porcelain Indian clowns. He subsequently shot you in self-defense.”

Paulie’s brow furrows. “I was stealing from this guy?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He thinks about it. “I don’t carry a gun? I don’t carry a gun,” he repeats it more definitively.

Thane checks the paperwork again. “No, you didn’t have any weapons on you.”

“Then how the hell does that count as self-defense?” he snaps.

“Dude,” Mort says, “totally raw deal. But you did try to steal from the guy.”

“He blew off my damn legs with a double barrel shotgun!” Paulie shrieks.

“I think it’s coming back to him,” Mort looks at his brother.

“Look, Paulie,” Thane starts, but Paulie has other ideas.

He starts shrieking and flopping around on the floor like a half eaten merman. One of his hands smacks Thane’s face.

Thane looks at Mort. He shrugs. “Not my fault. You’re the one that wanted to talk to him.”

Mort steps forward and sets a foot on Paulie’s chest, holding him in place. That stops him from bucking around, but he’s still shrieking. Thane clamps his hand back down over his mouth.

“Look, Paulie, we’re not unsympathetic to your plight,” Thane starts.

“I am,” Mort interrupts. “I have a fight I don’t want to miss.”

“As I was saying,” Thane resumes, “Your death was particularly traumatic and incapacitating. Even though you have no real physical body to speak of, subconsciously you’ve amended your soul body to match your physical body. Which means you have no legs to carry you to the afterlife. And that’s why we’re here,” Thane pulls out the dull brass badge from his pocket. “We’re dead soul collectors. Grim reapers for souls who can’t or won’t find their way to the afterlife. We’re here to escort you to the afterlife, but before we do that, I just want to give you the opportunity to share with us any good-byes you wanted to make or see if there are any unresolved issues that we could help you with before we send you on your way.”

“He keeps saying ‘we’,” Mort says with a full mouth, “But it’s all him. I have a fight to catch.”

Paulie seems to have calmed down again so Thane removes his hand.
“Unresolved issues?” he says. “I’ll give you unresolved issues. I’m dead over some stupid Indian clowns!” he shouts and his face turns bright red.

“Okay then,” Thane says. “Right to the afterlife.”

And then he slaps the cuffs on him.

Her second and final glow stick lay on the ground next to me and cast an eerie green light about the room. I couldn’t hear anything echoing in from out in the corridor. Of course, my ears rang like crazy, so that might have explained it.

And then there was London.

London stood in front of me peeling off her t-shirt. The sight of her faded to black and again unconsciousness claimed me. Like I said, I must have been delirious.

When I came to the second time, [...]]]>

Author’s note:

Thanks for your patience, all. It’s about time I posted something. Some writer become more creative when they are sleep deprived. I am not one of those authors.

For those of you who have never 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. In fact, if you are new to the site, you probably want to start with the 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.

56: Options

I opened my eyes and I must have been delirious. The right side of my head throbbed and my side ached like nobody’s business. I sat propped against the wall. Did London sit me up?

Her second and final glow stick lay on the ground next to me and cast an eerie green light about the room. I couldn’t hear anything echoing in from out in the corridor. Of course, my ears rang like crazy, so that might have explained it.

And then there was London.

London stood in front of me peeling off her t-shirt. The sight of her faded to black and again unconsciousness claimed me. Like I said, I must have been delirious.

When I came to the second time, London was again seated, but now my head was in her lap.

London must have shoved the glow stick in a pocket or something, because the room was dark again. The dull pain in my side kept pace with my heartbeat. My chest felt tight.

I grunted and did my darnedest to sit up.

London yawned and gave me a little push. “Hey there, sleepyhead.” She sounded like she had just woken up, too.

Once seated, I reached up and felt my chest and injured side. Everything felt weird. It must have taken a good twenty seconds or so for me to realize why.

I was no longer wearing my shirt. Well, I still wore it, but London had pulled it off me, torn it into strips, tied the strips together, then wrapped it tightly around my chest as a bandage.

I stretched my legs. “Dang it.”

“Dang what?”

“Well, I was almost lucid for a few seconds a while ago and I thought I saw you taking off your shirt. It would have been cool if you had used that to bandage me up instead.”

“I almost did.” She chuckled. “But after I got it off I realized two things. One, my skinny butt would freeze if I didn’t have on a shirt. Two, your shirt was already gross anyway. So I put mine back on and patched you up the hard way.”

“Right.” I winced and turned myself until my shoulders rested against the cold wall. “How long have I been out?”

“I don’t know. An hour? Two? I think I drifted off there for a while.”

Everything hurts when I move.I tried to sit very still.

“Have you heard anything happening out there?”

“Not since that original rush.”

I attempted to not worry about the fact that we had no door to keep out angry aliens or soulless zombies.

Waking from the short nap ushered back in a little clarity of thought. Unfortunately my imagination instantly seized that clarity and was using it to paint gruesome and vivid death scenes.

I’ve got to focus.“So, how are you doing?”

She touched my arm with ice water fingers. “Honestly, I’m kind of kicking myself for ever getting into your Jeep. If we get out of this, you owe me a very nice dinner. ”

I covered her hand with mine. “What about all the shooting and stuff, I mean you didn’t even talk for a while after you shot that guy-”

“After the car accident? That was different. He was a dirtbag, but he was still a person. Shooting these things is like putting down a coyote back on the ranch. If you don’t take care of the problem, it’ll kill calf after calf.”

I nodded and then wondered why I would do that. After all, it was pitch black in there.

She leaned over and put her head on my shoulder. “Oh. And I’m hungry.”

“Me too.” I scooted a bit closer to her. “I wonder if they left all those MREs back in the hall.”

“MREs?”

“You know, meals ready to eat?”

“I know what it means, but what MREs are you talking about?”

“Oh that’s right, I didn’t tell you yet. You know that room they were in when Rhett tripped?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s full of supplies the government gave them. I only had time to look at a couple of pallets, but they had a bunch of MREs. Once they got your screaming self into that lockable room, three of them went back for more. We ran into that group during our, uh, glorious escape.”

“So those were the boxes they dropped?”

“Yep.”

London stood, revealing the glow stick that had been jammed under her thigh. She picked up then grabbed her shotgun. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, I’ll-”

She was gone before I could finish.

I thought about standing but decided my head wasn’t quite ready for it yet. Besides, she’ll be back soon or call for help.

A minute later a green light burst back through the door.

“The big box was smashed, but there are plenty of these in good condition out there. Edible condition anyway.” She dropped two small card stock boxes into my lap. “Two for you and two for me. There, now you owe me two very nice dinners.”

I don’t remember eating the meals. I certainly don’t remember how they tasted. I’m not even sure I tasted them at all. All I remember is that a moment later the ground around me was littered with empty plastic envelopes.

A full stomach goes a long way toward improving morale.

Now that we were fed, it was time to plan our next move.

For up, we needed to take an inventory everything we carried. It turned out to be an easy task.

For London’s shotgun, we had a total of twelve rounds. Eight in the gun’s extended magazine, and four additional shells.

After reloading, my little pistol I had full magazines of seven shots each and about thirty loose rounds.

“So besides the guns, what else do we have?” London leaned over and dug through her pocket. “I swiped Rhett’s lighter.”

“Well, I’ve got this alien cut-” My heart froze. The cutter. Where is it?

I hit the back of my head against the wall and cursed myself for being so clumsy. “Nevermind, I must have lost it in the chaos.”

“In other words, we’re about ready for anything.”

I wanted to laugh, but wasn’t quite feeling up to it. “Right.”

“So what should we do now?”

“Get out if we can.”

“Any idea how to do that?”

“Not really.”

“So again, I ask you, what do think we should we do now?”

“Well, let’s see. We’re sitting in a doorless room with way to barricade it, so we can’t stay here forever. We’d be overwhelmed the moment any group came in here. Outside in that maze of tunnels is an awful lot of aliens. A few of them are probably zombies or will become zombies pretty soon. Every entrance we know about had been blasted shut. I guess we could try to hole up in the supply room, assuming we can find it again. Of course, we still need water soon, and who knows if they have any of that in there.”

“Aren’t you just a bright ray of sunshine?”

“I think I’m just trying to convince myself that to keep exploring is the best option.”

“You might be right.” She bit her lip. “And that Jex guy did mention another entrance. You never know, maybe we can find it.”

“You never know.”

I had learned to deal with high stress situations because I had been in so many of them. Those come with the paycheck when you’re in emergency medicine.

But, London, wow. She was something else. I wondered if all girls raised on a ranch were that tough. Yeah, she had freaked out when we first met, but since then she had been a better support than I could have ever hoped for.

We rested a few minutes more, then stood and headed back into the corridor.

Before we walked out, London stopped me. “Oh, and if you see a floating green thing, Rhett’s behind it.”

“What?”

“Well, he was wearing dog tags, so I pulled them out of his clothes and hung the other glow stick on the chain.”

“Well, at least we’ll see one of them coming.”

A dim but warm glow entered the corridor down by the main hallway.

I started back toward the light. “What do you say we see what they left behind?”

Over the renewed ringing in my ears, I heard the familiar and comforting click-clack of a shotgun slide being worked.

The upset table and other random debris tripped me up on my way back to the doorway.

A red headed angel with fiery green eyes stood in the center off the corridor with her shotgun raised and ready to battle.

A smile crossed my lips.

At the end of a hall, a crowd of aliens was falling all over themselves to get back past the turn and thus out of London’s line of fire. As they retreated, they left behind the one London had tagged in the face with that first shot.

The alien twitched and bled.

Across the hall the door [...]]]>

Author’s note:

If you have read Oasis, I could use a favor. I’m redoing the website for Oasis, and I need a few short blurbs from readers. I got a couple from twitter earlier today (and thanks for that, you know who you are) but I could use a few more. I just need a sentence or so telling the world how much Oasis has changed your life for the better. Just use the contact page or tweet me (@BryceBeattie) if you’re inclined to help me out.

For those of you who have never 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. In fact, if you are new to the site, you probably want to start with the 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.

Thanks Mal, Devin, and DarcKnyt for commenting last chapter.

55: Green Tide

I spun around.

Over the renewed ringing in my ears, I heard the familiar and comforting click-clack of a shotgun slide being worked.

The upset table and other random debris tripped me up on my way back to the doorway.

A red headed angel with fiery green eyes stood in the center off the corridor with her shotgun raised and ready to battle.

A smile crossed my lips.

At the end of a hall, a crowd of aliens was falling all over themselves to get back past the turn and thus out of London’s line of fire. As they retreated, they left behind the one London had tagged in the face with that first shot.

The alien twitched and bled.

Across the hall the door was wide open. Rhett lay on what appeared to be an exam table. If he heard or even noticed the chaos out in the hall, he did nothing to acknowledge it. His eyes were open, but glazed over and rolled back. From his lips poured a steady groan.

It won’t be long, now.

“Listen up, futuristic screwheads!” London took two steps forward. “This is my BOOM stick!”

The last of the crowd disappeared from view. Immediately two guards appeared in their wake. They appeared carrying their rifles, but they didn’t have them up and ready to go. They didn’t stand a chance against the feminine fury that stood next to me.

Rhett was right. The invaders had technology like crazy, but they didn’t have tactical training worth squat.

The shotgun roared again.

A chunk of the first alien’s neck vanished and its body crumpled to the floor.

The second alien didn’t even try to fight back. It spun on its heels.

London chambered another shell.

The alien couldn’t get enough traction to sprint clear.

London pulled the trigger again. The buckshot punched the alien in the side.

The alien stumbled and collided with the wall on its left, then dropped to one knee. It fumbled to cover its probably-broken ribs and scrambled to its feet. The black jumpsuit may have stopped the shot from chewing a hole through its body, but it must have felt like being hit with a baseball bat.

New cries of excitement swelled from up ahead. Despite the fact that I couldn’t understand a single word, the meaning was unmistakable. Horror.

London crouched and picked up a few of the shells I had dropped earlier. “What’s going on?”

“I think the alien that I bit just woke up.” I pulled my pistol from its holster.

“Woke up? What’s that supposed-”

Rhett’s tortured voice screamed out.

I glanced through the doorway to my left.

Rhett rolled to his right, fell off the exam table, and curled up into a ball on the floor.

“Rhett!” London took a step toward the door.

I caught her arm. “I need you here.”

I looked back down the hallway just in time to see three green heads round the corner.

My finger twitched involuntarily on the trigger.

The shot was wide, but it still had a definite impact.

The three aliens backpedaled as more of them swarmed into view.

I fired twice more into the crowd.

The mob turned on itself. On our end, the aliens pushed and shoved backward seeking to evade our gunfire. Somewhere beyond our view the other end of the crowd frantically fled from what I hoped was the first virus-infected alien zombie. If there were any guards left, they were being smashed in the center of the insanity.

London worked three rounds into the magazine.

It was clear to me that our end of the crowd was losing the giant push-of-war. My mind flashed through a bunch of options: hide in one of the close rooms, stay and shoot it out, flee to the unlit labyrinth… none of them were sounding ideal.

I checked behind me for the trio that had gone for more supplies. “Let’s back up to the end of this corridor. You keep watching this way, and I’ll make sure we’re not surprised from behind.”

London nodded.

I turned around and raised my gun.

We worked our way back fifteen feet or so.

I heard a renewed roar from the mob. Whatever’s on the other end must be pretty scary.

The shotgun boomed again.

London and I picked up the pace.

We were a good halfway down the corridor when the dam broke.

London fired one last time and yelled, “Run for it!”

I looked back.

The aliens trying to get away from us were pushed over and trampled down by the larger crowd behind them. The massive green wave of wide-eyed aliens flooded into the corridor. If they noticed us, they didn’t seem to let it slow them down.

That was enough for me. I didn’t need to be told again.

We booked it down the hall.

The frenzied shouts behind us sounded like they were gaining.

I pointed toward the left with my gun and did my breathless best to yell. “Back the way we came!”

We burst around the corner.

Up ahead about thirty feet the trio of guards from before hustled our direction. Two of them carried boxes and the third carried a lantern and a rifle.

My heart pounded. I thrust my pistol forward and fired.

I didn’t hit anything, but all three aliens recoiled and stumbled.

Almost in unison, London and I let out our best battle screams and redoubled our sprinting efforts.

Before the aliens ahead of us could recover, the madness behind us turned the corner.

We blasted right on by the stunned guards.

Hoping to divert the swarm, I dangled my gun behind me and emptied the clip without looking. The barrel flash lit the ever darkening hallway for half a heartbeat.

The crowd behind us thinned, slowed, and scattered.

My lungs burned and my legs screamed in complaint.

“Up there, right before the turn.”

As soon as London said it, I squinted and saw it. A doorway.

We ran through the doorway just as we would have if we had been taking the turn.

I searched through my untorn cargo pocket until I got hold of one of the spare clips for my gun. I performed a clumsy reload and let the slide lock back into place.

London stood and covered the door with her shotgun.

I knelt near her feet and followed suit. My breath came in heavy, burning gasps. I felt my heartbeat in my left temple.

A few seconds later a group of aliens rushed by our door without looking in. After that, the deafening noise of the crowd drifted into distant echoes and we were left in darkness.

Our green skinned pursuers seemed to be more interested in getting away than finding us, so we sat down against the wall.

“So, that’s your boom stick, huh?”

She shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to have a reason to say that.”

I stood but wobbled on my legs. “You are probably the best grade school teacher ever. Ever.”

“True, but why do you think that?”

I noticed a warm trickle down my left side, but tried to push the thought of it away. “You’re a redhead, you’re hot, you’re smart, you’re crazy good with firearms, and you quote Army of Darkness.”

“You know, if I had a nickel for every time..”

I didn’t hear the rest, because I lost consciousness.

Keep reading! Chapter 56 is here.

The alien group chatted away in their weird language as they approached my hiding place. There was no way they were trying to sneak up on me.

Probably gloating about how they caught the last of the intruders. I tightened my grip on the cutter.

The voices passed my doorway.

I leaned forward just enough to see a sliver of the opening. Sure enough, I saw a part of a black jumpsuit walking away. I stepped forward to widen the visible angle.

Three aliens plodded along the corridor. Only the one of them was armed.

I was pretty sure [...]]]>

Author’s note – For those of you who have never 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. In fact, if you are new to the site, you probably want to start with the 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.

Okay, here’s the new theme! I have a couple of things to add still: a small about me section on the front page that links to the about me and contact pages, and a search widget. I’ll get to it sometime over the weekend. Right now I’ve got to get to a pregnancy check up with my wife. Let me know if you find anything broken or if you have any suggestions with the theme.

rayman, Devin, DarcKnyt – thanks for commenting last chapter.

54: Sneak Attack

I breathed as slowly through my nose as I could manage. I have to get my heart rate down. Get control of these shaking hands.

The alien group chatted away in their weird language as they approached my hiding place. There was no way they were trying to sneak up on me.

Probably gloating about how they caught the last of the intruders. I tightened my grip on the cutter.

The voices passed my doorway.

I leaned forward just enough to see a sliver of the opening. Sure enough, I saw a part of a black jumpsuit walking away. I stepped forward to widen the visible angle.

Three aliens plodded along the corridor. Only the one of them was armed.

I was pretty sure that there had been four when Rhett and London were captured, but I couldn’t quite remember if there had been one more when they had been wrestling London into her holding room.

Sticking my head out the door far enough to see how any aliens guarded the prisoners seemed like a bad idea. Still, there was just no way to make a good plan without knowing what I was up against.

I counted to one hundred to give the trio time to get into the intersecting hallway and out of sight.

I hugged the alien bunk beds and shuffled to the other side of the door, half expecting the whole time to hear an alien voice scream an alarm or be stopped by a shimmering death-ray blast.

Outside, the noise level didn’t change. If there were two guards, they weren’t talking to each other. I hope.

I leaned back into the light and caught a view of the holding room, but still no sign of any guard.

Maybe that means there’s a chance to peek out the doorway, after all.

I sprawled onto the floor, crawled to the doorway, and edged the top half of my head into the corridor.

Over the top of one of the lanterns I could see one alien guard staring from across the hallway at the metal door. The box of MREs and the captured weapons sat near its feet.

My heart gave a little jump. Certainly I could take just one of them, right? Assuming there’s not another one close by. I retreated and stood back up.

But how could I get him? He was still a ways down there. I couldn’t take careful aim with the pistol unless I came all the way into the hall. Even lying down, there’s no way I’d remain hidden long enough to make that shot. If I just came out blazing, I’d alert the main pack of aliens that gathered just beyond the corner ahead. Plus, I’d run out of ammo pretty quick and I didn’t exactly have someone to back me up while I reloaded.

There wasn’t a lot of time to think it over, either. How long did it take to get from the food depot to here? Five, ten minutes? Somewhere along my journey, I had screwed up my internal clock. I supposed the exact time didn’t matter much. All I needed to know was the trio would be back soon, and I didn’t have much time to get London away from Rhett.

What about the shotgun ammo? I raised an eyebrow at the thought.

From the guard’s point of view, one of the lanterns sat on the floor five or six feet past my doorway. The alien lanterns were spherical with a flatish surface on the bottom and a handle on the top, kind of like those plastic jack-o-lanterns that kids carry around on Halloween, only smaller.

I still clutched my left arm to my side, so I nested the cutter in it. Then I dug a shotgun shell out of my cargo pocket.

My heart raced and doubts nibbled at the edge of my plan.

No time for second guessing. I squatted, held my arm horizontal to the floor, and tossed the shell.

I must have hit the lantern pretty square, because it toppled over and rolled toward the center of the corridor. It didn’t make any noise over the the top of the echoed talking voices. Fortunately, sound was not the only way to distract a guard.

The light coming through the door of my room danced as the lantern came to a stop several feet from where it had rested.

I stood up and got the cutter back at the ready. This it it. Make it count.

Before I knew it, I caught a glimpse of the alien as it swept past my door.

I held my breath and stepped into the hall.

The alien didn’t notice or at least it didn’t respond to my entrance. Instead, it bent over and reached for the shotgun shell that lay close to the wall.

I took one big step, jumped, and clicked on the cutter mid-air.

Hearing the sizzle of the cutter, the alien spun to look over its shoulder.

I grabbed at the alien’s shoulder with my left hand. Fire shot through the muscles and wounds in my side.

Our bodies collided. The alien opened its mouth to scream.

I turned my head and plunged the cutter into the back of the alien’s neck.

A spray of blood shot out.

The alien’s body went totally limp as the two of us crashed to the floor.

I clicked off the cutter and rolled to my right.

The alien’s body convulsed just once.

I and looked back down the corridor. Alone.

The smell of burned flesh mixed with the sticky sweet aroma of alien blood.

The alien was dead, but its heart continued to pump blood from the gaping hole in the back and side of its neck.

Quick and quiet. Finally something went right.

I sat up, took a deep breath, and fought down the urge to vomit.

The noise echoing down the hall continued.

No signs of alert.

I dragged my body up to standing. Fresh blood trickled down my side. I couldn’t readily tell if it was my own or if it belonged to the big-skulled guard. I pushed it from my mind. There’s work to be done. I can’t leave it here in the hall.

I tried at first to drag the alien corpse using only my right hand, but I just couldn’t do it. The thought of dragging it using two hands didn’t appeal to me. After all, I’m not a huge fan of pain. I crammed the cutter back in one of my cargo pockets and lifted and grunted until I had wrapped an arm around each of the green corpse’s legs.

The muscles around my wounds complained and burned all the more.

I dragged the body into the bunk room. A thick trail of blood marked a clear path. It’s not like any arriving aliens couldn’t tell what had happened. I’m not sure why exactly I felt compelled to hide the corpse. It didn’t matter. Two minutes later the job was done.

I took one look up and back down the hall. Still empty. Keep moving.

I ran down the hall to the big metal door. The latch was an awkward, clunky affair that was similar to the ones found on shipping containers. I worked one release, twisted a bar out, then pressed it up. Metal posts made a harsh grating noise, but retracted from the floor and ceiling.

Behind me I heard a shout.

My heart froze, but the rest of me spun about.

In the semi-darkness of the room directly across the hall sat an alien at a plastic card table eating an MRE.

We stared wide-eyed at each other. Neither one of us acted for a good ten seconds.

All at once, an urgency to action flooded my veins. I bent and fumbled through my pocket. Where is that thing?

The alien bolted upright, knocking its cheap, plastic chair to the ground.

My hand found the cutter handle and I tore it from my pocket. Or more accurately, I tore my pocket wide open while pulling out the cutter. Shotgun shells scattered onto the floor.

The alien’s huge eyes widened with recognition of my weapon then turned to something in the corner of the room, out of my line of sight.

I sprinted for the doorway.

The alien grabbed at a corner of the table with its left hand.

No time. No time. I snapped on the cutter.

Twisting and grunting, the alien heaved the table toward the doorway.

I burst through the door and brought up a knee that took the force of the tabletop and redirected it to my left. A spark of pain lanced up my leg.

The alien scrambled in the darkness.

I couldn’t see what it was reaching for. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t about to wait to find out.

I made a wild dash for the alien.

The alien whipped about.

I swung the cutter. It bit into alien flesh.

Something hard slammed into my left shoulder and flung me against the wall.

I dropped to one knee and looked up.

The alien clutched a long rifle like a club with one hand. Its other hand covered the deep gash I had ripped in its torso.

I sprang up, reaching out with my left hand, hoping to deflect any follow up swing.

The alien stumbled clumsily backward and screeched in pain.

I drove the cutter into the hideous oversized green forehead.

The alien crumpled like a bathrobe into a pile on the floor.

Angry shouts filled the hallway outside.

So much for my silent jailbreak.

The unmistakeable roar of a shotgun thundered.

Far ahead, the group turned left.

As soon as the final lamp-carrying alien disappeared from view, I stepped out into the hall. The lantern’s glow coming out of the intersecting corridor was nowhere near bright enough to see where I was stepping.

Still, I hustled as fast as I could, but I didn’t want to run if I could help it. The floor was unlit and uneven and I didn’t want to trip like Rhett. Plus, it wouldn’t do to get too close – the aliens would surely hear me. On the other hand, if I lost them entirely, there’d be no way for me to [...]]]>

Author’s note – For those of you who have never 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. In fact, if you are new to the site, you probably want to start with the 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.

Mal, Devin, Bored Robot, DarcKnyt – belated happy Easter to you all, too.

I love getting comments.

Chapter 53: Jail Time

I turned away from the stacks of food and checked back down the corridor.

Far ahead, the group turned left.

As soon as the final lamp-carrying alien disappeared from view, I stepped out into the hall. The lantern’s glow coming out of the intersecting corridor was nowhere near bright enough to see where I was stepping.

Still, I hustled as fast as I could, but I didn’t want to run if I could help it. The floor was unlit and uneven and I didn’t want to trip like Rhett. Plus, it wouldn’t do to get too close – the aliens would surely hear me. On the other hand, if I lost them entirely, there’d be no way for me to find London before Rhett succumbed completely to the zombie virus.

Here and again my left shoulder brushed against the wall. I wondered why they had bothered to put the metal coating on it and not the floor.

The light had dimmed to almost nothing before I reached the intersection. My friends and their captors had already made a right hand turn in another of the endless shafts.

I’d better speed up. The half walk, half jog motions tugged the skin at the clotted ends of my side wounds. It hurt, to be sure, but I was more worried about them opening up again than the pain.

As I continued my pursuit, the background noise increased in volume. What is that? Do they have power in part of the base?

My hustle paid off. I saw the last alien of the group turn left into a lighted corridor. I was close enough I could have thrown a rock and hit him.

The ever-present noise grew even louder and I finally identified it.

It’s voices. That’s the sound of a crowd. Most of the aliens must be gathered close.

I hoped against hope that they were treating the alien I had bitten nearby. After all, the bigger the crowd, the more potential bite victims, the bigger the panic. I wondered how long I’d have to wait before Rhett and it turned into mindless fleshy virus-spreading machines.

A part of my guts winced at the thought of using Rhett as a weapon.

I ran to the corner of the lighted corridor and peeked around the edge. This hallway wasn’t terribly long, maybe half a football field. Several lanterns placed on the floor along the sides gave it a decidedly spooky appearance. The floor here was not dirt, rock, and debris like the rest of the base, but polished concrete. Shadowy doorways lined both sides passage about fifteen feet apart. The hallway turned sharply to the right at the end. The place smelled like brushed metal and machine oil.

The aliens marched their captives about two thirds of the way down the hall and stopped. Rhett wobbled back and forth with his head hung low and his shoulders drooped. London still held herself like she might punch an alien in its tiny mouth at any moment. Her head darted from right to left as she hurled insults at the aliens. She used a number of terms that a respectable school teacher shouldn’t even know.

The last pair of lanterns were placed pretty close to the end of the hallway. I wasn’t in darkness like I had been the rest of this pursuit. That meant if one of the aliens looked back, it might actually see me.

I crouched down. I know it’s dumb, but somehow that made me feel more concealed.

One of the aliens walked to the wall on my side and fiddled with something and then pushed. I couldn’t see for certain, but I was pretty sure he had just opened a door.

A door? Why does that seem weird? I thought back and couldn’t remember seeing any actual doors anywhere else in the alien base. Did the aliens have something against privacy, or was it more the practical matter of moving breathable air around?

An alien with a rifle prodded Rhett toward the now open doorway. He stumbled on in without resistance or incident.

My mind raced for a plan. They were sure to head back this way sooner or later. Probably sooner with my luck.

I could back up to one of the dark hallways and wait around a corner. No, I need to have some idea of what they’re doing. Plus, I don’t want to get lost.

I could stay put and spring on them when they did come back. That’s problematic, too. Who knows how many will come back at a time? Even with the element of surprise I didn’t think I could quickly and quietly take more than one at a time in the open hallway. I’m not a ninja.

I rolled back and rested against the wall.

That left one option: make a mad dash for one of the darkened doorways. Once inside, I could remain hidden until some of them went back for more supplies or I could think up a better plan or something.

I peered around the corner one more time.

An alien grabbed London’s upper arm and half dragged her toward the same place they had forced Rhett.

London thrashed, yelled, kicked and spat. All alien eyes were focused on her.

My heart pounded like it was trying to get out of my chest. Now or never. I pulled my pistol from it’s holster and stepped into the lighted corridor.

Any noise I made was washed away by London’s commotion and the echoed alien cocktail party. The aliens didn’t look back, but London must have seen me, because she redoubled her efforts.

One of the aliens raised his gun and hit London over the head with it. She went limp. The alien that held her arm lifted her and wrapped his arm around her waist.

I went for broke and ran for the second doorway on the right. The full cargo pockets on my pants whipped around and alternated clanging into the front and back of my legs.

The last thing I saw was the alien tossing London onto the floor.

Once inside my chosen room, I jumped to the left and pressed my back against the wall.

The aliens outside laughed their infuriating laugh.

I closed my eyes and fought to control my wild breathing and trembling hands.

The hard clank of a metal door slamming shook the air.

I opened my eyes and examined the room.

Attached to the other three walls were three levels of shelves. They looked to be about six inches thick, three feet deep, and made of plastic.

I reached out and touched one.

The bottom of the shelf felt hard and cold like steel. The top was squishy like a foam pad.

Are these bunk beds? I had never even considered the thought that aliens might need sleep. I shook my head. The gears in my mind started turning to grind out some kind of genius plan.

Outside the aliens were talking about something. Maybe they were trying to decide who was going to go back for more supplies. Worse yet, maybe one of them had seen me dive into this room and they were deciding how to kill me.

I holstered the pistol and pulled out the alien cutter. In the enclosed room, I’d probably do more damage with it.

Whatever the green jerks discussed, it took them about fifteen minutes. After that, I could tell that at least some of them were walking in my direction.

I flattened against the wall again, lifted the cutter to shoulder height, and waited.

Keep Reading! Chapter 54 is here.