Burial Ground

VI

10:26 p.m.

Merritt balked at the entrance to the underground warren. A piercing glow radiated from inside, turning Galen and Sam to silhouettes as they ducked out of the rain and into the stone passage. Sorenson backed into him from behind with the clamor of suppressive fire.

"Get in there!" Sorenson yelled.

Merritt could only stare at the fissure in the hillside. His legs had locked up and the remainder of his body was unresponsive. Even his voice failed him at first.

"I...I can't."

"We don't have time for this."

Sorenson jabbed him in the back with the butt of his rifle and he stumbled forward, barely able to maintain his balance. The screams of the dying filled his ears, while the scent of burned flesh lingered in his sinuses. His vision grew hazy from the smoke. Even the rain no longer touched him as in his mind he was a thousand miles away in a sun-baked landscape of sand.

He knew on a fundamental level that none of this was truly happening, but that understanding made it no less real. Fear had him in its grip, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to break free.

Sorenson prodded him with the rifle again, harder this time, driving him to his knees.

"Get in there or so help me, I'll leave you right here!"

Merritt peeled his dry tongue from the roof of his mouth to reply, but no words formed.

Sorenson jerked him back to his feet by his collar and shoved him forward into the mountain. Rather than speeding up, his heartbeat slowed and a sensation of warmth spread through his body like an anesthetic, numbing his hands and feet. He was shutting down, going into shock.

"Merritt," Sam said. He felt her cold, wet hands on his cheeks before he realized that she was standing directly in front of him. "We need to keep moving. Do you understand? We can't stay here or whatever those things are will kill us. You can do this."

Flickering light limned her outline. He could barely see her features until she brought her face within inches of his.

"You can do this," she repeated. He drew confidence from her words, and her touch brought him slowly back to the here and now. "Just look into my eyes and place one foot in front of the other."

"They're right behind me," Sorenson said. He punctuated his statement with a barrage of gunfire back into the forest. "Either you get him moving or you're both on your own."

"Then go!" Sam shouted. She turned her attention back to Merritt and softened her tone. "Just listen to my voice and look into my eyes. There are very bad things out there and we need to hurry. I want you to focus on moving your legs and following me. I'm not going to leave you."

He couldn't risk slowing her down. She needed to get as far away from him as possible. He would never be able to forgive himself if anything happened to her.

"Go on," he said. "I'll be right behind you."

"You're a terrible liar."

Sorenson fired out of the egress again at the sound of a shrill hawk's cry.

Sam lowered her palms from his face and took him by the hands. She pulled him gently at first, then more insistently. He stumbled after her, eyes locked on hers, the rifle he had slung over his neck clattering against his chest. The smoke remained, but instead of reeking of scorched skin, it smelled of harsh chemicals. The wails of the wounded faded to the sounds of breathing and shuffling footsteps. Feeling returned to his appendages with each step, and the situation resolved from the fugue. He gave Sam's hands a solid squeeze.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Her reply was drowned out by the report of gunfire, both from ahead and behind.

She released his right hand and turned so that she could drag him by his left.

The ruckus of rain metamorphosed into the drone of flies as they fled the outside world.

Merritt gripped the assault rifle in his right hand. It scared him how perfectly it still fit.

Another avian cry from behind.

Sorenson unleashed a short spat of bullets, discarded the spent clip, and snapped another home.

The glow down the tunnel ahead of Sam wavered and started to fade.

She tripped on something and fell forward. Her hand slipped out of his.

In the dying light, he saw a jumble of broken bones on the ground. Sam pinwheeled her arms for balance. Movement drew his eye to the recessed alcove in the wall to his right.

A pair of rheumy eyes set into a scaled forehead turned in his direction. A large, feathered body was crammed into the small space where the remains had once been. It unfurled its coiled body in serpentine fashion.

The incendiary grenade fizzled and died.

Blackness flooded the corridor with a skree that was so close Merritt could smell the rotting meat on the creature's breath.