Chapter 18 #2
He heard Gabriel’s voice, aim for center mass, don’t get fancy.
On his knees, Blake spun, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. The gun bucked in his hand, but he was ready for the recoil. He squeezed the trigger again. And again.
Most of his shots missed, but one strafed the Monkey Cat’s ridged nose. It knocked it off balance, turning its jump into a fall. It landed hard, rolling over itself to slam into an air conditioner.
Phin twisted on his heel, aiming at the new threat. The Monkey Cat didn’t stay down long, extracting itself from the crumpled air conditioner. Its claws dug into the roof as it dropped its head and charged at Phin.
Blake fired, but his gun clicked. Empty. He had another clip in his backpack, but there was no time. Phin’s gun was chewing up the Monkey Cat, bits of honey-colored blood spurting with each strike, but it didn’t stop until it slammed into Phin.
Phin flew backward with the force of the hit, the alien going with him.
He grabbed onto the Monkey Cat’s ears, feet on its shoulders.
It snapped its bifurcated jaw, spittle flying, trying to get a piece of Phin to latch onto.
Something it could use to drag him into that lethal mouth.
Phin was fighting, his bloodied teeth flashing. Blake took two steps toward him.
The mission.
He wavered. If he didn’t help Phin, he might die. But if he didn’t kill the Queen—the mission would be a failure. Triage. Blake knew how to triage.
Dropping the gun, he reached into his pocket. His clammy hand clasped around the thick plastic syringe. He pulled it out and ripped the cap off the needle with his teeth. It felt heavier than it should. Blake turned on his heel and ran toward Queen Dolly.
Gabriel told him to aim for center mass with a gun, but he could do it with a needle too.
The Queen had regained her senses and was stalking toward Phin and her guardian Monkey Cat. Brown, thick blood leaked down her crest from the bullets. She couldn’t quite close her jaw because of the broken tooth; she held her mouth open, feet stamping in pain and rage.
She turned at the last second, her crest shaking as she made to leap for him. He rolled out of the way, all the way to the junk wall, hitting a broken mirror with a grunt. The Queen leapt after him, but the filaments pulled taut, yanking her back.
While she was distracted, Blake darted forward.
Boots slipping on the roof and heart hammering in his chest, he threw himself at her front leg.
He struck her side, the hard, raised armor plates cutting into his shoulder.
With a hand on her crest for balance, Blake plunged the syringe into the soft flesh in her armpit.
The needle sank deep, and the Queen roared, immediately twisting to snap at him.
Thick alien blood splattered over his face and arms. It was so hot it burned, but Blake held on.
His thumb found the raised plastic edges of the plunger, and he pushed.
He couldn’t go too fast, or he’d risk breaking the seal on the needle, but her teeth were getting closer, breath a rancid mix of old tomatoes, sweat, and dust.
She shrieked again, rearing up high enough that Blake was yanked off his feet. He clung to her crest, watching the meth in the syringe get lower and lower. There were only five milliliters left when she managed to twist enough to get her jaw clamped onto his bicep.
Blake screamed at the pain. It was like his arm was caught in a shredder. The acute pain from her teeth came in a flash, then the terror of the pressure behind it. She was going to shatter his arm. He kicked at her side, screaming. The Queen yanked him off, shaking him like a dog with a bone.
The syringe came free with him. She shook him so hard he could feel his bones creak.
Blake clenched down on the almost empty syringe.
Hot red blood burst from between her teeth, splattering across her bulbous eyes and flat face.
Tendons and muscles twisted, and he screamed again, his vision fading.
Queen Dolly slammed him into the roof, her sides heaving with exertion.
Blake fisted the needle and slammed it into the space between her jaw and teeth.
The needle slipped into her gums, and she bellowed, staggering back, releasing Blake.
Stars danced in his vision as he found unconsciousness. Groaning, he looked up in time to see the syringe fly from her mouth. The three intact points of her jaw were soaked in red and gold blood.
Her shadow blanketed Blake as she came for him. One leg raised, four claws extended. His arm wouldn’t work. He had nowhere to go. He threw a hand up to protect himself.
The Queen faltered.
First, it was just a twitch. A hiccup, almost. She looked as surprised as Blake, her big ears standing straight up, guard hairs trembling. Then she retched, back arching and sides sucking in. She scrambled backward, slamming into the junk wall so hard it wobbled, a section collapsing.
Blake tucked his bad arm close, pulling himself further from the overdosing Queen. She snapped at her legs, her sides, throwing her body from side to side. Claws ripped chunks out of the roof as she flailed, muscles spasming uncontrollably, tail curling under her belly.
She’s dying.
Her muscles tightened as she fought the drug, tiny slits of nostrils gaping as she tried to get enough air.
The filaments above her vibrated, knocking against each other.
They were darker too. Easier to see against the sky.
They seemed to be peeling up from where they attached to her back, the skin pulling before ripping around the base.
Almost like they were going to retract. To save the ship.
So they could send another Queen Dolly.
It wasn’t over. Killing the Queen wouldn’t stop the Monkey Cats. They were cloners—they would just send another. And another. As long as they had the means.
Pushing himself up to his knees, Blake withdrew the second syringe from his pocket. The contingency syringe. He popped the cap off, ignoring the screaming pain in his arm. He bit down on the plastic syringe and limped forward.
The portion of the wall the Queen knocked over was scattered across the roof.
Blake used an overturned metal rack to get high enough so he could throw a leg over the dying Queen.
Her back was broad, but she was bucking hard, fighting the drug.
Blake scrabbled, his fingers catching on some of the sliding plates.
Digging his knees in, he blindly reached out until he grabbed hold of the filament.
It felt strange in his hand. Wide enough, he could barely close two hands around the pulsing translucent jelly. Blake could feel the energy through his skin. It reminded him of those water snake toys from every gift shop he dragged his parents to.
Gripping it, the fluid inside squished to either side of his palm. The Queen threw herself to the side, and Blake’s shoulder hit the roof. He groaned around the syringe between his teeth, but he didn’t let go. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
As she got to her feet, he let go with one hand and pressed the syringe into the filament. The beveled edge of the needle slipped into the viscous walls. Blake pressed the plunger.
The fluid inside the filaments turned brown, then black as the drug was absorbed. Blake could follow the swirl of methamphetamine as it shot up toward the sky and presumably, the ship.
When the plunger struck home, Blake let himself get bucked off. Shielding his arm as best he could, he rolled out of the way of the stampeding Queen.
She was wheezing, bloody foam dripping from her mouth. She still looked expressionless with her black goggles, but Blake could see the fine tremors in her muscles when she finally gave in. Her legs locked, and she wobbled for a second before crashing to the roof in a plume of dust.
Above her, the tendrils were twanging against each other. As they darkened, they ripped from her body, twisting and whipping through the air with a hiss, raining dark fluid on Queen Dolly’s body.
Clutching his bleeding arm, Blake forced himself to turn away. He saw Phin’s gun caught up on some pipes. He prized it free and ran to the other side of the door.
Phin had his foot on the Monkey Cat’s head, ripping a Kabar knife from the Monkey Cat’s cracked goggle. It came free with a splash of eyeball goo and blood.
Blake grimaced. “I…I brought your gun.”
He wiped the blade off on his filthy pants. “Would have been nice five minutes ago.”
His boots squelched with blood and viscera as Phin stepped off the Monkey Cat.
His clothes were hanging in tatters. Even his plate carrier was dented, the nylon covering shredded, and the metal beneath shining dully in the sun.
His dark skin was awash with blood—it was hard to tell which was his and which was Monkey Cats.
“Well, you know,” Blake said, handing the gun to Phin. His arms trembled under the weight, but Phin hefted the gun with ease. “I was busy.”
Phin grunted. His nose was clearly broken, and Blake wondered if he could lift his arm to fix it. Or if Phin would even let him.
He appraised Blake, eyes lingering on his arm. It was still sluggishly bleeding. “You need a medic.”
“Yeah,” he looked over at his arm. “Know any good ones?”
Phin’s lips quirked. “No.”
“Dick.”
He was about to ask Phin about any other injuries when an ear-splitting crack tore through the air. Blake grimaced, looking back at Queen Dolly. She was still lying on her side.
Phin scanned the roof with his gun. Blake couldn’t see anything wrong. Was it the Ground Team? He knew they were setting off bombs, but that sounded like thunder. He could feel it in his teeth.
Something caught his eye. “There! The filaments!”
The blackened filaments were falling. They’d pulled away from the Queen, and now they were collapsing under their weight like an empty hose.
The first half dropped through the junk wall, cutting through it like a hot knife through butter.
The entire building shook as the wall began collapsing in on itself, falling onto the roof and the street.
“Fucking cowboy! He said there were no tentacles!” Phin shouted, grabbing Blake and running for the opposite side of the roof. They huddled under the chassis of a burnt-out Volvo as the filament kept dropping.
It had felt flexible in Blake’s hands, but the weight combined with the long drop built up velocity.
They cut through everything in their way, crushing buildings as they fell from the sky.
Blake’s feet rattled out from under him, and he collapsed onto his ass, throwing his arms up around his head to protect it from flying debris and dust.
Peeking out from under his arm, he watched as the filament stretched across the street and crashed into a building. The four-story structure teetered for a moment, then toppled…right into the street, and into the oncoming team’s path.
He was running before he knew what was happening. The building rocked under his feet, nearly sending him to the ground. Phin yelled after him, but the words were lost to the cacophony around him.
Blake made it to the fallen portion of the wall to look down at the street. It was covered in rubble, their pile of ‘safety’ tires obliterated. The crushed building had fallen, completely blocking the Ground Teams’ escape.
They were going to be trapped.
With every alien in the city on their tail.