The Source (55 page)

Read The Source Online

Authors: Brian Lumley

BOOK: The Source
6.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“No, he ducked back inside. We burned him a little, I think.”
“You think?”
“It all happened so very quickly, sir.”
Khuv thought fast. “Are the people out yet?”
“Most of them, but they're still coming. I've called up trucks from the barracks, else they'd all freeze out here.”
“Good man!” Khuv sighed his relief. “Now listen: let everyone out except Agursky. If he shows up again give him all you've got. Kill him, burn him, destroy him utterly! Have you got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Khuv put the phone down, turned to the others. “He's still in here. Him and us, and maybe a few stragglers. Oh, and the soldiers at the core, and whoever else is down there with them.” He turned to Luchov. “The first button sounds the klaxons, right?”
Luchov nodded. “You know it does—if they're still working.”
Khuv reached across and pressed button number one. He gave Luchov no time to think or to argue. Simply did it. The alarms were still working: their monotonous yet nerve-wrenching howling started up at once. It was like the crying of some vast, wounded prehistoric beast.
“But what are you doing?” Luchov gasped.
“Getting those soldiers out of it,” Khuv nodded at the screens. Down at the core all such niceties as orders went to the wall. Those men down there knew what the klaxons meant. And they'd had enough. Nerves could stand just so much, and then no more. In a matter of moments it was chaos, and panic-flight. The staircase was packed with fleeing men; the Katushev teams were scrambling out of their kit, running for it. A Sergeant-Major fired his pistol into the air once, twice, then bolstered it and joined the rush.
Khuv laughed, slapped his thigh, punched Litve's shoulder. “Agursky can't get out,” he said. “He's in here, probably wounded, and those men—heavily armed men—are coming up from below. And we're going down from the top!”
“You're right,” Luchov gasped. “But me, I'm staying right here. If he comes back this way I'll make sure he doesn't get in here; also, I'm not chancing meeting him between here and the exit!”
“Good,” said Khuv. “But we'll need your flamethrower. Here—” He brought out his automatic and handed it over. “It's not much but better than nothing.”
Luchov let them out into the corridor. “Good luck,” he said, simply.
“You too,” Khuv nodded. Then Luchov quickly closed the door and locked it …
 
Half-way between Failsafe Control and the magmass level, they met the soldiers coming up. They came at the stampede, until Khuv called out: “It's OK, you men. There's no problem. We have a maniac running
loose, that's all. The scientist, Vasily Agursky. Has anyone seen him?”
“No, sir,” the Sergeant-Major who had fired his pistol down at the core came to attention, saluted. “I'm afraid we all panicked, sir, and—”
“Forget it,” Khuv said. “You were supposed to panic. That way I could be sure you'd get out of there fast, that's all.”
“You see, sir,” the other was at pains to explain, “the phones have been out for some time, so we guessed there was a problem. Then, when those klaxons started up—”
“I said forget it!” Khuv snapped. “Now get your men out of here—I mean right out of it. Out of the Projekt.”
Litve grabbed his arm. “But they could be of assistance,” he protested.
Khuv shook his head. “With them out of the way, anything else that moves has to be Agursky. And
anything
that moves dies! Let's go.”
They proceeded to the magmass levels, checking rooms and laboratories as they went. And all the while the klaxons sounding, sounding, sounding, and their flesh crawling on them like they were covered in cockroaches …
 
Up in Failsafe Control, Viktor Luchov heard the pounding of booted feet as the core's military units vacated the Projekt. Well, at least they were out of it now. That left Khuv and Litve, and whatever else was down there waiting for them. Luchov glanced again at the silent, now motionless screens—especially the centre screen, which showed the core and the Gate—then returned to his private thoughts. Thoughts about Khuv. He had never much cared for the man; the KGB were a brutal lot. And yet now …
Luchov's thoughts froze right there. Gooseflesh crept on his neck. Something he had seen? He looked at the
centre screen again. He strained his eyes, rubbed at them … but no, there was nothing wrong with his eyes.
On the centre screen a pale, gelatinous mass was visible on the curve of the sphere's dome, a slow-motion picture of something within. It hadn't been there ten or fifteen minutes ago—or maybe it had, and with so much going on he simply hadn't noticed it. Crazy! It was exactly what he was here to notice!
He stared harder, and yes—in a minute the thing had grown larger, starting to bloat up huge on the great curved screen which was the Gate. It was like … like Encounter One. But bigger.
Much
bigger! And it was moving faster than anything had ever moved in there before. If it
was
the same sort of creature as Encounter One, and if it should break loose from the Gate—
God!
Luchov gritted his teeth, slammed a balled fist into his palm.
At a time like this!
Khuv and Litve were still down there somewhere. They had thought to trap Agursky between themselves and the soldiers. And now who was trapped? At least Luchov could try to warn them, Khuv's own novel method should suffice.
He reached out a trembling hand and pressed button number two …
 
Down on the fringe of the eerie magmass levels, Khuv and Litve stayed close together, moving very slowly. There was darkness here, where even the well-illuminated areas were dark with implication. Even above the blaring, maddening klaxons, whose row was fading a little behind them, the heart of the Perchorsk beast could be heard thudding more loudly, seemed that much closer.
They moved cautiously down the wide timber stairway, Khuv's eyes raking the magmass on the right, and Litve's on the left. The pilot-lights of their flamethrowers threw weird, blue-flickering shadows, making faces and threatening figures of the disturbing magmass fusions.
Khuv adjusted the strap of his flamethrower across his right shoulder, and metal parts chinked together. The sound was amplified by the magmass, and despite the incessant klaxons came echoing back seemingly from all directions. Another sound, having its origin elsewhere and rising to drown it out, came back with it: stuttering, almost chattering laughter!
“Behind us?” Khuv whirled to look back, eyes wide so as to miss nothing.
“No,” Litve's voice was a whisper where he crouched, “in front of us—I think.”
“It's hard to tell,” said Khuv, beginning to breathe a little faster. “He could be anywhere.”
“But he's just one,” Litve was starting to shake, his voice, too, “and there are two of us. For God's sake don't get separated from me, Major!”
They turned right and followed the wooden path—an artificial and entirely familiar road through this alien landscape—into the heart of a magmass cavern, where the echoes of their footsteps resounded louder yet … and that was when the pitch and frequency of the alarms increased from a repetitive, mindless blaring to a definite cry of warning!
“What the hell—?” Litve gasped.
“That was Luchov,” said Khuv, “telling us that something isn't right. Shit—we know that already!”
The laughter came again, and this time there was no mistaking its source: behind them. Also, Khuv recognized the voice as Agursky's beyond any shadow of doubt. So did Litve, apparently. “He's tracking us,” he whispered.
“Let's find a vantage point,” Khuv moved faster, heading for the stairwell through to the core. That was the only way to go now, down to the core itself. But with still thirty or so paces to go to the final descent, Litve grabbed Khuv's elbow.
“Look!” he croaked.
Khuv looked back. From behind a leaning magmass
nodule, a shadow had fallen on the walkway. One that moved. Closer still, there was more movement: Khuv's and Litve's startled eyes went together to a heavy-duty cable where it snaked along the mad flow of the magmass wall. The cable jerked; its loops between staples contracted as something hauled on it. Almost before the meaning of this could dawn, there came a cry of combined pain and frustration from behind the same magmass nodule. The shadow on the walkway was highlighted, emboldened by flaring blue illumination and a shower of sputtering sparks. And it was a monstrous shadow!
Incapable as yet of movement, the two watched. The shadow—a
single
shadow—began to split in two. There came a rending sound, like sailcloth tearing, as the two halves of the shadow struggled to break apart—struggled and succeeded. Two of them now: one of which seemed human, and the other the size and roughly the shape of a dog, except it was
not
a dog. Then both of them moving back a little, merging with the shadow of the nodule, and a further moment of struggling with the power cable. There was more electrical sputtering and a second shower of sparks …
And the lights went out!
The two men backed toward the shaft going down to the core. Their legs were jelly but they forced movement out of them. A faint wash of light came from behind them, over their shoulders: residual light from the sphere-gate, shining up through the shaft. But along the walkway where they'd been, all was now night.
“If he—it—they are going to come,” Litve stuttered, “then it has to be along this walkway.”
Khuv's throat was too dry and tight to answer, but he thought:
That's right.
They were both wrong. The thing from the tank, or rather metamorphic vampire material from the core of the thing in the tank—not dead but subsumed into Agursky, and now released to even up the score, two against two—didn't have to come that way at all. It came
under
the walkway!
Almost at the mouth of the shaft, where the walkway turned sharply to the left and once more descended as stairs, the thing struck. Something coiled up over the handrail, wrapped itself clingingly around Litve's waist, dragged him screaming through the shattering rail. He was there, beside Khuv, and he was gone. His flamethrower put forth a single blast of flame, and looking down Khuv saw what had him. The thing from the tank, yes: a great flat tentacled leech now, which smothered Litve's face and the upper half of his body like a mass of leprous dough, while its many-jointed “limbs” wrapped him and crushed his body like so many pythons! And eyes in the surging filth of the thing, staring up unblinking at Khuv where he choked and gurgled on the walkway.
Litve's flamethrower went clattering; Khuv knew that was the end of him; he aimed his own weapon and sent searing flame blasting into the heaving obscenity where it threshed on the magmass floor. Screaming his rage and terror, he burned it—burned it—burned it. Until the white heart of his torch turned yellow, hissed, crackled into silence, until the pilot-light itself went out.
Then came Agursky's chuckle again, and through the reek and the smoke Khuv saw him coming. He saw him closing with him, his hands elongating, reaching …
He dropped his empty weapon, ran, stumbled, went flailing down the stairwell into the heart of the place; and down the stairs from the landing onto the boards of the Saturn's-rings perimeter. Agursky came close behind, chuckling, flowing, inexorably pursuing. Khuv looked back and saw him: the impossible gape of his jaws, the nightmare of his bone dagger teeth meshing like a mincer in the cavern of his mouth. He screamed and raced for the nearest Katushev cannon.
“Shit,
shit!
” he screamed, and: “Oh, God! Oh mother of—” He leaped up onto the Katushev's platform, slid into the gunner's chair, traversed the assembly to face
Agursky where he loped after him. But … he had no idea how to fire the thing!
Before Agursky could reach him, he leaped out of his seat, fled across the rings and onto the gantry bridging the gap to the sphere. The power was off and the gate in the electrical fence open; Khuv ran through it, reached the spot where the boards were scorched and blackened. The Gate was the only route open to him now, but better that than—
He skidded to a halt, threw up his hands before him to ward off … something he couldn't believe, something from the mind of a raving lunatic! He stared at the sphere and his eyes bulged, popped in his white mask of a face. Agursky had seen it, too, and he was likewise brought up short. And a third pair of eyes had seen it, had indeed been watching it for some time.
Up in Failsafe Control, Viktor Luchov waited no longer but threw the failsafe switch. He opened the floodgates to hell—because he had to, and for Khuv. For Khuv, yes, who even now turned his face to the closed circuit TV monitor and pleaded with him, begged him to do it. “Do it!” the Major's face screamed silently at Luchov from the centre screen. “For God's sake, Viktor, if you know the meaning of mercy—
do it!
”

Other books

The House on the Strand by Daphne Du Maurier
SVH12-When Love Dies by Francine Pascal
Sophie the Awesome by Lara Bergen
Bachelor Boys by Kate Saunders
Instant Love by Jami Attenberg