Clickers. Part 10

They moved forward. Roy pulled out his flashlight. They made their way over to the spot until they stood over the thing on the floor. Roy trained his flashlight beam on the floor. Rusty gagged and turned away as Conklin tried to figure out what he was looking at. The strong smell was wafting up from it and it took a moment for Roy to realize what he was looking at.

When he realized, he winced. "Jesus Christ!"

It had once been a man. That much was apparent from the few remaining sc.r.a.ps of clothing. A tarnished security guard badge lay amid the tattered, slimy clothing. What remained of him was nothing more than a pile of red, smoking ooze with yellow bone poking out in a helter-skelter of gunk. The head was little more than a skull completely stripped of flesh and skin. The jaw was hanging off at an angle and Roy could see that the left side had been punched in to get at the brain.

The ribcage was collapsed, the bones broken, snapped, and otherwise melted. There were no identifiable internal organs anywhere. What little flesh was left was bubbling and sizzling like it had been doused with acid.

Rusty grabbed Sheriff Conklin in panic. "It's true, Sheriff. Just what Rick says. There's giant crab monsters running around stinging people! We've got to warn the-"

Conklin grabbed Rusty by the collar and shoved his face to within a hair's breath of Rusty's. "We ain't warning n.o.body. Not until I find out what's going on around here." He loosened his grip on Rusty's jacket and straightened up. He tried to smile. "There has to be somebody here in the building."

He turned around, s.h.i.+ning his flashlight in the gloom. A doorway was etched into the darkness down at the end of the hall that led to the generators. Roy pointed to it. "Let's check out the generator."

Roy began moving down the corridor toward the generator room. Rusty remained rooted to the spot near the break room. The Sheriff stopped and turned around; his deputy looked ready to puke. Roy sneered. "What's the matter boy...can't play the big man's game?"

Rusty only looked up at him in revulsion and fear as the Sheriff chuckled and opened the door to the interior workings of the power station.

A moment later, Roy felt the other man behind him, following him like the peon he was. Roy grunted his satisfaction, puffing himself up to lead the way.

They slowly made their way to the interior of the power plant. The beam from his flashlight played on a maze of pipes, tubes, and railings that went in all directions; they s.h.i.+mmied up the walls, along the ceilings, and sprouted from the floor. Big monolithic computer equipment jutted up like Egyptian pyramids in sectioned cubicles. Along one wall sat a bank of computer equipment with tape reels. Roy played his light toward them; beyond lay rows of shelving housing more tapes. Probably computerized records of every utility bill within a forty-mile area.

The acidic smell was stronger in this room than it had been out in the main hallway. They moved slowly, their flashlights playing upon computer equipment, pipes, desks, scattered remnants of paperwork that had spilled onto the floor amid demolished office furniture and machines. Something had happened here and the dim light emanated by the flashlights wasn't bringing out the mystery.

Undaunted, Roy pressed forward, ignoring Rusty's faltering steps behind him. He heard the deputy gag at the stench. The poor boy was probably p.i.s.sing his pants in fear right now. Some cop.

Roy pressed forward toward a large metal threshold that led deeper into the building. The warehouse?

Click, click!

"What was that?" Rusty's voice was loud, scared.

Roy whirled around, flashlight s.h.i.+ning on Rusty's frightened face. His gun was clenched tightly in his fist. "It's nothing. You're letting your imagination get to you..."

"No, it was something, it was-"

"It was just the pipes cooling down!" Roy said. "We're in a power outage, remember? When the power goes, the water in the pipes cool down."

Rusty was nearly hysterical. "That ain't no f.u.c.king pipes! It's the crab things that Rick told us about!"

Roy snorted. "You want to go back?"

Rusty nodded vigorously.

"Did you bring your flashlight?"

Rusty looked down at his belt. It was sans flashlight. The dips.h.i.+t had left it in the car again. He looked up at Roy with a sheepish expression.

"Unless you can find your way back in the dark, I suggest you shut your f.u.c.king hole and stick by me."

Rusty sighed. He might be scared, but he wouldn't dare defy Roy's orders. Not if he wanted to keep his job.

Roy turned back to the threshold and led the way through the rest of the plant. Rusty tagged along behind him. Roy moved slowly, deliberately. He wanted to listen closely to any sounds that might be emanating from the darkness. Sounds would provide good clues as to what may have happened.

Sharp clicks echoed throughout the metal guts of the building.

Roy's fingers itched as it played over the trigger of his revolver. G.o.d, he wanted to shoot something.

A soft moan floated from the darkness.

Both cops froze in their tracks. Roy moved the light and his revolver toward the direction of the sound. Beside him, Rusty had pulled his own weapon and was training it in the same direction.

The moan came again. Louder.

Something red moved on the floor ahead of them.

Roy leveled his gun and fired. The shot reverberated through the building, making the pipes buzz. The red thing ahead of them stopped moving. Roy kept his trigger arm as rigid as steel, finger poised ready to fire again.

Rusty leaned close to him. "Is it dead?" He whispered.

Roy slowly approached the thing, puzzled. Rusty trailed behind him cautiously. Roy s.h.i.+ned his light on the figure and he heard Rusty draw a sharp intake of breath as his own heart began a quick beat of fear.

It was a man. At least from the waist up.

Roy resisted the urge to vomit even as his partner voided his lunch in steaming splatters on the floor behind them. He willed his hands to stop shaking even as the light from the flashlight wavered in the gloom, creating spotlights around the form that had once been human.

The man appeared to have once been a utility worker, maybe a computer operator. His blue coveralls and plastic name badge told Roy that much. He could also tell that the poor sucker had been in extreme pain before his bullet sheared the side of his head off. Blood and brain matter decorated the floor; a dark, thick pool was expanding under him.

From the waist down it was a different story. All of the flesh and bone below his waist was in the process of being eaten away. The same bubbling acid they saw in the break room was eating at the exposed bone and flesh of the dead man's lower half. Roy let his eyes travel away from the man's body to follow the gruesome trail that led into the darkness. The poor sucker had been crawling toward them on his hands and belly as the acid ate away at his knees. He probably heard them come in. From the amount of blood and dissolved meat it was surprising that he made it this far. The agony must have been intolerable, plus the severing of his femoral artery surely would have allowed his life to escape quicker. Which meant that this just happened to him. Maybe within the last minute...

Roy took a deep breath, trying to piece it together. He had to stay calm, otherwise Rusty was going to go bugf.u.c.k and they would both wind up as mush like this guy.

"A chemical leak...that has to be it. Some kind of acid that eats at the flesh." Roy spoke slowly, as if repeating carefully rehea.r.s.ed lines. That had to be it. When he served in 'Nam his company once experienced a chemical leak on their base. The effect had been similar on the few hapless souls that were unlucky enough to contact the deadly chemical mixture they were working with. They'd been planning on spraying a Viet Cong village with the stuff when the spill happened. Ten men died pretty much like the poor sucker lying on the warehouse floor in front of him. The chemical testing on the Viet Cong village had been aborted. Whatever chemical this man had been eaten by, it had to be the same thing he'd experienced in Viet Nam.

"Chemical leak? Can't you see that there's something alive that's doing this?" Rusty's voice was a high screech.

Roy brought his revolver up. "I see people being killed by some kind of acid. That's all." His voice was soft. Calm. "I saw something similar in 'Nam when we were experimenting with a chemical weapon. It did the same thing. You see something different, obviously."

Rusty's eyes darted to the dead man at their feet. "I see that you just shot this guy! He was trying to crawl to us for help and you shot him without identifying yourself as a police officer. That's-"

Roy whirled, the barrel of the revolver pointing right at Rusty's face. He clicked back the hammer as Rusty went rigid. All the color drained out of the deputy's face. "That's what?" Roy's voice was deadened, his eyes narrowed like cold flints.

Rusty quivered in his uniform. His hands rose in the air. Surrender. "Wh-what...y-you can't..."

Roy kept the weapon aimed at the deputy. "I can do anything I G.o.dd.a.m.n feel like. Especially when it comes to making a loud-mouthed deputy stay quiet. Now...what I see here is a guy who was killed by an acid leak...a guy who was dead when I accidentally slipped and dropped my gun, thereby causing the wound in his head. Isn't that what you see, Rusty?"

Rusty was shaking so hard that his own gun nearly slipped from his fingers.

Roy's lips pulled back into a grin. He could smell another acidic stench; that of urine which had no doubt suddenly voided from Rusty's bladder.

Roy lifted the gun from Rusty's face. He had done the trick. "You know...I'd be careful on these slick floors...I might just slip again." The gun came back down to sight on Rusty's pale, wet forehead.

Rusty backed up, his body trembling. "No...don't..."

Roy's finger twitched. A slight tug and all his problems would vanish in a cloud of smoke and blood.

His finger tightened on the trigger. Rusty screamed.

Roy jerked the gun back and laughed. Oh, to feel the power, to feel others grovel at his knees in fright!

He looked at Rusty, laughing. "You miserable sack of s.h.i.+t."

And then, the noise again...

Click, click!

Rusty's shriek caused Roy to jump back and nearly trip over the dead man. His heart leaped into his chest and his adrenaline spurned. He gained his balance, tightened his grip on the gun and moved forward. He stabbed his light toward Rusty where the sound came from. "G.o.ddammit, what the h.e.l.l is going on-"

He stopped, nearly tripping over them. At Rusty's feet were two huge red scorpion-like creatures with their pincers tearing away chunks of flesh out of the deputy's leg. The things were busy stuffing the strips of meat and skin into their chitinous mouths as Rusty screamed at the top of his lungs.

Roy watched in horror, rooted to the spot as Rusty tried to scramble away only to fall to his knees in pain.

Rusty looked down at the creatures. He lifted the .38 and pointed it at one of the creatures' backs. The slug shattered the crustacean's sh.e.l.l and exploded its insides. It twitched and fell over on its back, its legs curling in like a dead spider.

The second creature dug its claws into Rusty's thigh and bit down hard. Blood spurted from the wound, drenching the creature. Rusty's eyes were wide in pain, his face slick with sweat and contorted with agony and what looked to Roy like anger. He stuck the barrel of the gun against the thing's sh.e.l.l between the eyestalks. He pulled the trigger and the sh.e.l.l ripped the creature apart. It grew still with its pincers still embedded in the deputy's leg.

Rusty's energy dissolved and a pall seemed to wash over him. He collapsed back against a layer of pipes and closed his eyes. He whimpered, his breath coming in short gasps. Roy still remained rooted to the spot. He couldn't believe what he just saw. It couldn't be a chemical leak now. It was something far beyond anything he could have ever dreamed.

Roy moved, felt warm moisture on his crotch and the inside of his legs. He had p.i.s.sed himself.

Ignoring his damp trousers, Roy s.h.i.+ned the flashlight on Rusty. The deputy opened his eyes, his breathing harsh and ragged. His leg was bleeding badly. His fingers were still locked on the gun.

Roy turned, checking the rest of the plant. The beam from his flashlight stabbed darkness. He couldn't see or hear anything out there. He turned back to Rusty who lifted his arm, pointed his gun at Roy, and fired.

There was a sear of pain through Roy's right thigh. The sheriff yelled and fell. The flashlight tumbled to the ground and spun, trailing flickering light along the walls. The reverberation of the shot echoed in the plant as Roy howled, eyes squeezed shut, his hands clamped over the wound. G.o.dd.a.m.n sonofab.i.t.c.h shot me!

The flashlight stopped spinning, it's light s.h.i.+ning back toward where they had come. The exit.

Roy began scampering toward a large row of machinery, dragging his lower body behind him just as another gunshot sounded. He felt it pinging right by him. He darted behind the object, groaning as he settled his weight on a portion of his injury. The G.o.dd.a.m.n motherf.u.c.ker is shooting at me! Who the f.u.c.k does he think he is?

A fresh wave of pain flowed through him as he raised his own gun, leveling it toward the ceiling. He was lucky he hadn't dropped it when Rusty shot him.

Click-click! Click, click, click, click...

The metal interior of the plant suddenly echoed with hundreds of sharp clicks. Roy's eyes darted around the plant, suddenly seeing shadows squirm and come alive. His vision barely made out deep red s.h.i.+ny sh.e.l.ls scurry about and multiply. A fish-like smell a.s.saulted his nasal pa.s.sages.

Gritting his teeth, Sheriff Conklin rose, his back rubbing against the cold metal of the shapeless piece of machinery. He hobbled toward the edge of the machinery, listening. Amid the clicking he could hear the scurrying and drag of Rusty trying to make his getaway. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

Conklin emerged from behind the machine and hobbled toward where Rusty had been. The pain in his leg throbbed, but he could move it. He dimly made out Rusty's form hobbling toward the exit, limping on ravaged legs. Roy raised his gun and fired. The bullet hit Rusty's shoulder, jerking him forward, pus.h.i.+ng his body to the floor. He fell, the gun flying through the air to hit the ground. Roy grinned as he limped toward the fallen deputy.

Rusty turned over, making scrabbling motions to get away. His eyes grew wide as Roy limped forward, his gun smoking as it came up again, pointing at him. "You stupid hick f.u.c.k. I'll send you straight to h.e.l.l." He leveled the gun at Rusty's chest and was about to fire when he felt a sharp tug on his leg. He looked down.

One of the scorpion-like things was tugging at his pants with its large pincers. It pulled and the fabric ripped free, exposing his bare calf. Roy reacted instantly, swinging the gun barrel down and pulling the trigger. The shot blew the crustacean into chunky red and yellow sauce.

A barrage of clicking behind him brought six more making their way right toward him. Roy turned his head and saw that the fallen flashlight was pointing at the door the way they'd come in. He shot a glance at the wounded deputy and grinned. Rusty shuddered.

Roy smiled and limped quickly toward the exit. The pain from the gunshot wound hampered his movement, but Roy tried to will the pain away. He would get through this. He made a wide berth around Rusty, chuckling as he did so. He retrieved the fallen flashlight, cast one look back at Rusty. "So long, motherf.u.c.ker."

Then he left. Moving out the door and closing it behind him, leaving Rusty in the darkness of the power plant.

A moment later all that remained of Deputy Russell Hanks was his badge, gunbelt, and high school ring.

The crustaceans wandered through the pipes and machinery, searching for any last bits of edible matter. The vague sounds of a quickly retreating police cruiser barely registered in their primitive auditory ca.n.a.ls.

What did register was the presence of something else.

This sent a wave of panic through the creatures as they skittered and crawled into any dark crack or crevice they could find. Their primitive nervous system could register only a few sensations and this was one that they knew better than the others.

They knew it better than the urge to breed.

They knew it better than hunger.

They all felt the emotion as old as time itself.

Fear.

Chapter Thirteen.

Rick was leaning against the receptionist counter as Glen Jorgensen leaned over the transmitter. "...Bangor General, please come in, Bangor General-"

Glen Jorgensen had been trying to reach Bangor General Hospital for the past fifteen minutes. This was the second attempt they'd made; the first had been close on the heels of when Janice and Bobby arrived at his office when it became apparent that Bobby's injuries were much worse than Glen thought. When he was met with static, he darted back into his examination room, barking at Barbara to a.s.sist him. Rick had waited in the comfy lobby as the physician worked on Bobby, wondering how the boy was, how Janice was making out through all this. He wanted to be back there to offer some comfort, some support, but he knew he would be hindering whatever Dr. Jorgensen had to do. So he sat in the lobby.

Glen Jorgensen emerged thirty minutes later looking tired and drained. He had worked on Bobby himself, suturing what remained of his finger, splinting and bandaging his hand. Between the time Sheriff Roy Conklin left and Glen began working on Bobby, the storm had grown stronger. Rain pelted the roof and came down in sheets, billowed by the howling wind. When Glen emerged from the examination room he hardly noticed the weather outside; he went straight back to the transmitter and tried again.

It was at this point that Rick got up and sidled up to the reception area. Glen noticed him and nodded. "I gave both of them a mild sedative. They're resting in the room down at the end of the hall if you want to see them."

Rick nodded and walked down, limping slightly from the bandaged wound on his right leg. Barbara was emerging from the room when he approached it. Her features were strained with worry. "You can see them, but not for long. They both need rest."

"How is he?"