The hatch to hall 19 opened.
The pipes knocked, the banged, they called. Hot MER infused liquid aggregate flowed and pushed through them, splitting them, melting them, heating them. Black water sprayed from the bolts and cracks in the pressurized tubes.
Bullet riddled corpses lay on the floor. The victims of yet another angry ceiling turret that awaited them. Lavinia let the tar leak out from the pipes as her eyes glowed a brilliant blue. The droplets of sweat on her forehead looked like neon blue coolant. Tar formed a hot silhouette that fooled the machine into feeding it bullets.
A string of goopy rope grew out from under the body armor of a dead man like a fungus. Lavinia felt her light fading and got closer. A bulbous tip of steaming tar formed on the stalk. The turret caught her heat signature as her powers flared and began firing. A bullet struck her shoulder and pushed her back but she refused to be knocked over. The wound issued blue and black blood as the silhouette slid in front of her to gather the fire.
Then the growth eating from the dead man tensed. A tar ball shot upwards at the ceiling turret to stick the gun barrel in place. Gears ground and ripped as it jittered back and forth. A sizzling pop issued from the turret as it smoked before the barrel exploded back into the chamber.
Oddly colored blood squelched as Lavinia pressed her shoulder. Bleeding red was normal. Dark blue sludgy blood was always a bad sign. But when it turned black and steamed, her hands began to tremble. Lavinia leaned against the wall while holding the wound. Larox pulled bandages out of his bag to wrap her shoulder over her shirt.
“Just let us handle it from here,” Larox said, “You can’t keep pushing yourself like this.”
Lavinia wiped her forehead, “But we’re almost there, we’re almost back at 21. I’m worried about the others.”
The muscular mute continued holding the pipe as he stood by the broken hatch they had entered from. He looked about nervously as the lights flickered and the hall shook. A booming thunderous impact from outside made it difficult to stay standing. The hall trembled for a long moment before it finally quieted. Lavinia squinted.
“Not her, not here, not now!”
“Not who? What’s going on?”
“There’s no time for this, let’s get to the hanger and get out of here!”
Hall twenty burned. A pipe spewed fire like a giant blow torch at the exit. The hatch glowed red from being torched by the concentrated flame. Larox and the muscular mute both shook their heads.
“The hydrogen line is cut and is burning off. Hope the helium is still intact. Because that’s what we fly on. Doesn’t look like we’re getting across here. The hatch is probably welded shut at this rate. It’s going to be a long way around this.”
The hall felt like a furnace as the closed exit hatch received an improvised weld that became a hole melting through the door. Lavinia approached. A ball of rocky tar rolled in from the other hall. There were bits of plastic, cloth, and human bone embedded into the surface as it left a stain in its wake. The ball stopped and then a tendril grasped her wrist. She held it on a slimy leash like a yo-yo before pressing the soft sludgy orb into the flaming opening.
As the flame stopped the skin over the back of her hands glowed a slight red then began to crisp. Inky tar melted from her wrists and coated her hands in glossy black gloves. Without waiting for the hatch to cool, she jammed her fingers between the glowing panels to force them open.
A burn stretched across the front of Lavinia’s face. It crisped her skin as hair sizzled. They made it. Hall 21 looked rather clean. The entrance to the Clinker 21 hangar beckoned. The turret in front of the hanger door clicked because it had been jammed long ago and never fixed.
Lavinia darted forward to seal the turret in place but Larox caught her by shoulder, “Let us take the lead for a change, you’ve done enough,” then he turned to the muscular man who had been tagging along, “Big guy, mind doing the honors.”
As the big man jammed the pipe into the entrance console override, Lavinia shook her head, “I can handle one more. You’ll just die, let me do it. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
The announcement system in the hall returned to Danny Boy on loop, starting once more from the top. They took cover as the hatch readied to open.
-----
An occasional beep issued from the turrets. Horst laid on his back. Gonzalez laid on his on back. The remaining members of the team kept themselves on their backs. The floor turret remained exposed while the wall turret stayed retracted yet alert. Getting a shot on the floor mounted machine gun exposed the shooter to the ceiling turret. The hangar remained considerably quiet. One could have taken nap to the sweet music of Danny Boy on loop.
Horst put his hands on his stomach and twiddled his thumbs with a sigh. The stitches on his upper lip tightened. His body was a patchwork quilt of old cuts and bruises under his uniform. It would have felt fine to take a nice long nap if he wasn’t on the dirty floor and there wasn’t a machine gun ready to riddle him with bullets if he rolled the wrong way. Someone yelled from behind an overturned cabinet.
“How long can these things operate?”
“Indefinitely as long as we have power and they have ammo. They have more than enough of both for all of us,” Horst said.
“What if the power is cut?”
“They have their own power supply. They can keep going for about a week or longer on stored power depending on how it’s allocated.”
“That’s no good,” said the voice, “I was hoping they’d be empty soon, like my soul.”
The hangar hatch slid open but nobody entered or stood at the entrance. The guns remained silent.
“Anyone alive in there?” Larox called.
Horst almost jumped up, but a bullet whizzed past his ear, struck the tool cabinet, and ricocheted back into the gravel bags.
“There’s at least five us, and me included!” Horst yelled.
“HA! You’re not dead yet!”
“I could say the same for you!”
A growing stalk of asphalt lifted a body. It heated the flesh until the turret extended to take the bait. Then it impaled the softening body against the ceiling turret. The gun began firing wildly through flesh, bone, and tar. It clattered and then clunked before it backfired and deactivated.
The floor mounted machine gun swayed in a full circle. A grenade rolled under it. The device toppled as shrapnel flew outwards against overturned shelving and cabinets.
Larox stuck his hand out and when nothing fired, he peeked a bit more courageously. The others slowly broke cover and waved them inside. Lavinia leaned heavily on Larox’s back. Inky blood stained his clothes.
Shot gun clicked as Officer Gonzales sat up and examined the wreckage. The ceiling turret dripped a stringy black sludge which hissed as bubbles popped from the strings. Below the dispatched turret laid the corpse of one his fighters. The edges of a turret sized hole punched into the center of the torso hissed sludge that moved like a living organism. Gonzales jumped over his cover to examine the corpse, though he hesitated to touch the sludge or poke it with anything he intended to use later. He even refused to nudge it with his boot or get much closer to take a better look.
Horst sat up on the floor and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Then he retrieved his tools and got to work.
“Give me fifteen minutes. I can get the hangar operational and get the other turrets offline.”
“Are communications online,” Gonzales shouted, “Get on them and tell the boss we’re working on the turret situation. Tell them not to take any unnecessary risks and not to break cover just yet.”
Horst clicked the ignition of an auto welder connected to a tube that ran from a pipe. It wouldn’t light. Larox made his way over as Lavinia clung to his shoulders, almost being carried. Her palms, no longer coated in glossy black, were sticky with deep burns.
“What’s with the fuel supply?”
“Yeah, about that. Entire base is sort of falling part,” Larox turned back to glance at Lavinia, “Why don’t you slide down and take a break. I’ll pull out a folding chair. You’ve done way more than your part.”
Gonzales came over with his gun in hand, “We got tar in the base. It disabled the turrets. I put out a full alert but we can’t activate the electromagnetic pulse without controlling the central spire.”
Larox stood in front of Lavinia as he held the folding chair. He made sure to stand close to her and block the view of the darkening sludge leaking from her shoulder wound and the tar oozing from the pores of her burnt palms.
Horst grabbed a portable torch, “I can still do this, but it’s gonna take me a half hour or more. Where’s Lauren, did you find her. Is she okay?”
Officer Gonzales peered around the chair but Larox stepped in the way of the officer to block his view. That’s when Lavinia coughed. Hot black liquid ran over her lips and down her chin. It dripped over her shirt. Even her hair steamed slightly.
“What about her?” the submachine gun issued a soft click as it pointed at Lavinia, “Is she okay? Is she human? Or is she a silhouette?”
Larox pushed his chest in front of the barrel of the gun so forcefully that Gonzales had to back up, “She’s no threat to anyone, leave her alone.”
Horst got back to his feet and raised his hands, “Woah, woah, I can vouch for her. Whatever it looks like, she’s not the problem here. Just calm down. Everyone just calm down.”
Lavinia tried to stand but slid back to her knees with a more violent cough. The MER in her body were overtaxed, she had a fever, and her body would further break down into sludge if she wasn’t careful. She looked away and rested her forehead against the metal barrier.
She wished she was more robust like her sisters.
The hangar baked as Gonzales’ soldiers got on their knees and trained their weapons on Larox. It became quiet. The crackling lyrics of an old record reverberated over the loudspeakers.
And I shall here,
Though soft you tread above me
And all my grave will warmer,
Sweeter be.