Infestation

- 3 -

Banks led the squad back to the post office, just in time, for the shoreline track, the short quay, and even the partially submerged boats were all now a seething, roiling mass of the scuttling creatures. The main door proved to be locked and it took both Mac and Hynd to force it open, having to break the lock in the process. The sturdiness of the door was a blessing in disguise, for when they got inside and closed it again, then manhandled a large filing cabinet against it, it appeared to be strong enough to withstand any attack, or at least give them plenty of warning of one.

Banks and Hynd stood at the main window overlooking the shore while behind them McCally and Briggs secured the main room and Mac worked on Nolan’s wounds. Their night vision glasses gave them an all too clear view of the scene outside. Around a hundred of the beasts had gathered out there, all between the post office and the waterline, milling around, almost aimlessly. The only plus point appeared to be that they showed little interest in Banks’ squad.

For now.

“What the fuck, Cap?” Sergeant Frank Hynd said, in perfect imitation of Mac’s Glaswegian drawl.

“Fuck knows, Sarge,” Banks replied in the same manner. “But at least we know what killed the walruses and the poor sods who lived here. I’ll be buggered if I can figure out what it has to do with our mission though.”

Now they saw the beasts in a cluster in the dark, something else was obvious; they gave off a shimmering luminescence from under their shells. Banks lifted up his glasses for a better look; as they milled around, it almost looked like they floated on a glowing blue carpet.

“What are they?” Hynd said. “I’d say slaters, but these fuckers are much too big. Some kind of crab?”

“Crustaceans of some kind, certainly,” Banks replied. “And vicious wee buggers at that.”

“We should call this in, Cap,” Hynd said. “It isn’t normal. We’re way off script already and we haven’t even got to the boat yet.”

“You know the orders; radio silence they said, unless there’s extenuating circumstances.”

Hynd laughed and waved at the view beyond the window.

“I think this fucking qualifies, Cap. Don’t you?”

Banks couldn’t drag his gaze from the swarming beasts. He replaced his night glasses; the blue shimmering was too otherworldly, too far out of his experience. It didn’t look quite so weird in the muted, almost monochrome world through the night vision. The beasts still showed no sign of being interested in them.

“We’re not in any immediate danger, at least I don’t think so. But we need to find a way past these fuckers; we need to get out to that boat.”

“Well, I’ve got one bit of better news,” Hynd replied. “We didn’t find a boat or dinghy but we did find kayaks. There are eight of them neatly stacked behind the house two up from the south end, all in good nick from what I could see and all with paddles too.”

Banks looked out beyond the beasts on the shore to the sea beyond. It was more slush than water and paddling through it in a kayak was going to be harder work than he’d like in this climate.

But it’s better than swimming.

“Good work, Sarge,” he said. “It appears we might have a plan after all.”

“We’ve got to get past these things first though,” Hynd said. “Any ideas?”

“I’m working on it,” Banks replied and finally turned away from the window to where Mac had finished patching up Nolan’s wounds.

“How’s the patient?” Banks asked.

“He’ll hurt like a bugger for a while but he’ll live; it looked worse than it was. It’s three deep cuts and a lot of scratches. He’ll need a new pair of trousers though.”

Banks addressed Nolan directly.

“How are you doing, lad? Can you put your weight on the wounds? Can you walk? We might be getting out of here in a hurry.”

Nolan smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Ready when you are, Cap,” he said.

Mac tried to repair the gashes in the Irishman’s trousers by binding the scraps of material with wrapped bandages. They looked too white in the night vision glasses, too vivid a reminder of the savagery of the beasts outside the door.

As Banks turned away, light flared up in his night vision like a bolt of lightning as the power in the post office came on, the lights overhead flaring, accompanied by a distant thrum.

“I’ve found the generator,” McCally called from out back. “Let there be light.”

“Shut that fucking thing off, right now,” Hynd shouted but it was too late.

Banks removed his night vision glasses to allow his eyes to readjust and looked out to the shore. All the beasts had turned to move in their direction.

We’ve made them curious.

At least McCally had responded to Banks’ order. The generator went off again and the lights dimmed, the post office falling silent, but the damage had already been done. The beasts came on fast, swarming around the area beyond the window. The main door rattled as pressure was put on it from outside and Nolan suddenly didn’t look quite so happy.

Banks went back to night vision, then slapped a hand on the nearest wall.

“This place has concrete underpinnings and brick walls,” he said. “They can’t get in here; at least not easily. Keep calm, lads, we’re safe, for the time being.”

“How about the window, Cap?” Hynd said quietly, even as the creatures piled up against the wall, clambering over each other, the squirming mass already almost up to the level of the windowsill. As they climbed and scrambled, the blue luminescence intensified, almost as bright as the office lights had been seconds earlier.

“They can’t get in,” Banks said again, but now he was remembering the broken and torn doorframes of the other houses; the big front window of the post office was in a wooden frame. It looked solid enough but if these creatures found a weak spot, he was pretty sure they wouldn’t be slow to exploit it.

“McCally?” he said loudly. “Did you find anything useful out back while you were being a fucking idiot?”

“Just the generator. And a dozen twenty-liter containers of gasoline,” the Scotsman replied, returning into the doorway leading to the rear of the building.

“That might be handy; lead with that next time, before using your initiative; it doesn’t suit you.”

The main door creaked, a loud squeal, as if the metal frame had buckled. Banks stepped across the room to the alcove where the door was and saw the beasts clawing and scratching at the frame where it met the ground. The metal was being shredded and taken apart, almost as easily as if it too was just timber. The door shook and moved slightly, the weight of the beasts’ numbers pressing it open.

“We’ve got incoming,” he shouted.

Another squeal ran through the night as the filing cabinet scraped on the floor; it had taken two men to move it into place but the creatures pushed it in as if it was an empty cardboard box.

“Little fuckers are strong,” Hynd said as he came to Banks’ side. They switched on the flashlights on their weapons and trained them at the door but the beasts took no notice of the light and kept pressing the filing cabinet inward, the sound of screeching metal wailing and echoing around them.

Banks was aware of the rest of the squad moving to join them; Mac at Hynd’s side and the other three taking position behind them, ready to step forward when needed.

“Check those earplugs, lads. This is going to get noisy. Aim for the front end; if they’ve got brains of any kind, that’s likely where they’ll be hiding. Hitting the body hardly slows them down.”

He pushed his own plugs in as deep as he could get them, then gave his full attention to the doorway. The filing cabinet squealed even louder, moved six inches inward, and the first of the creatures scuttled through an opening that didn’t seem wide enough to accommodate it. Banks blew away the front of it, where he thought of as its head. It fell forward and went still. Two more scrambled over the top of it; Hynd put them down, the shots booming and echoing around them, deafening even despite the earplugs. Three more tried to come through and Banks was about to fire when he saw the ones behind had paused to feed on the fallen.

They’re cannibals.

That immediately brought another thought and this one was a plan, of a kind.

He turned to McCally.

“Take Briggs and fetch as much of gasoline as you can carry,” he shouted.

“What are you thinking, Cap?” Hynd shouted.

“A barbecue,” he called back. “A bloody messy barbecue.”

Then he had to shut up as the filing cabinet was pushed farther inward and half a dozen of the beasts filled the gap and came forward.

The air filled with the roar of rapid fire.