Deedee pointed a shaking finger toward the ceiling. “The boogie man’s up there.” She paused, visibly shaking—a sight that tore at Mark’s heart. “And he brought his friends.”
CHAPTER 64
She’d barely said the last word when the Berg burst into life and launched off the ground. The floor tilted and Mark stumbled and fell onto the cot, then pushed himself to his feet.
“Just stay there,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
He wasn’t going to hesitate this time.
He ran from the barracks into the hallway, piercing the darkness with his flashlight as he headed straight for the cockpit. He thought he heard another giggle coming from the ceiling in the same spot as before, and horrible thoughts popped into his mind: bloodthirsty men and women, infected and insane, leaping through the panels once he disappeared, attacking the girls he’d left behind. But he had no choice, and he’d be quick. Besides, if there were people up there, they’d waited this long without doing anything. Chances were he had some time.
He bolted into the cockpit, where Alec was manning the controls. He was sweaty and flushed, and concentrating hard on what he was doing.
“Where’s the Transvice?” Mark shouted.
Alec spun around, fear crossing his face. But Mark didn’t waste time with explanations—the man’s weapon was propped up against the wall next to him. Mark ran to it, grabbed it and threw the strap around his shoulder, then made sure it was powered up and started back toward the barracks. Toward Trina and Deedee.
“Turn some lights on out here!” he yelled back to Alec as he slipped out of the cockpit—he’d dropped the flashlight at some point and the world was pitch-dark. Conserving power and fuel no longer meant a thing. He’d only gone a few feet down the corridor before the dim lights flashed on and illuminated his path, though shadows clung to the walls.
Sweat dripped into his eyes as he pounded down the corridor. It felt as if the heat inside the Berg had skyrocketed to a thousand degrees. The sweltering air combined with his shot nerves—the razor’s edge of madness that cut into his psyche—put him on the brink of losing it. He just had to hold on for a little while longer. With every bit of effort he could muster, he focused only on the next seconds of his life.
He crossed under the place he’d heard the giggling. Even as he did, a cackle came from above. It was low and throaty, as ominous a thing as he could imagine. But the panel remained intact. He tore through the door of the barracks and saw with relief that Trina and Deedee were still huddled together on the floor.
He was just moving toward them when three sections of the ceiling suddenly collapsed, breaking apart in a crunch of plaster and metal. Several bodies fell among the pieces, crashing on top of the two girls. Deedee screamed.
Mark raised his weapon and rushed forward, not daring to shoot but ready to fight.
Three people were scrambling to their feet, shoving Deedee and Trina as if they were simply objects in their way. A man and two women. They were laughing hysterically, leaping from foot to foot and throwing their arms around like wild apes. Mark reached the man and swung the butt of his Transvice into the side of his head. The man cried out and crumpled to the floor. Mark used his momentum to turn his body and kick one of the women away from his friends. She shrieked and toppled onto the nearest cot and he aimed the Transvice, pulling the trigger. A bolt of white heat hit her and she grayed, then dissipated into the air.
She’d barely disappeared when the other woman tackled him from the side—they both landed on the floor, and for what felt like the hundredth time in the past week, the air was knocked from his lungs. He twisted onto his back, pulling her on top of him as she struggled to rip the Transvice out of his hands.
He saw Trina and Deedee standing up, pressed against the wall, watching helplessly. Mark knew the old Trina would’ve joined in and helped somehow. She would have attacked the woman and probably beaten her senseless. But this new Trina, this sick Trina, just stood there like a frightened little girl. Clutching Deedee in her arms.
Mark grunted and kept fighting the woman. He heard a groan, looked over to see the man he’d knocked out crawling to his hands and knees. The guy’s eyes were glued on Mark, full of hatred and madness. He bared his teeth and growled.
The man came at him on all fours, as if he had transformed into some kind of rabid animal. He pushed off the ground and leaped into the struggle between Mark and the woman like a lion attacking its prey. He crashed into the woman and the two were suddenly locked in an embrace. They fell off Mark, rolling across the floor as if playing some kind of game. Mark was still gasping for breath but he turned onto his side, then his stomach. Got his knees under him. His elbows. Pushed up. He leaned against a cot and finally was able to stand.
He calmly aimed the Transvice at the man, then the woman, taking two clean shots. The noise shook the air like thunder, and the people were no more.
Mark heard his own breathing, heavy and strained. He glanced wearily over at Trina and Deedee, still huddled against the wall. It was close as to which of them looked more terrified.
“Sorry you had to see that,” Mark mumbled, unable to find anything else to say. “Come on. Let’s get to the cockpit. We’re taking …” He’d almost said taking Deedee, but he’d caught himself. He didn’t know how Trina might respond. “We’re going somewhere safe,” he finished.
A burst of deep laughing seemed to come from everywhere at once, the same horrible sound as before. It was followed by a hitched series of coughs that eased back into the haunted fit of giggling. To Mark, nothing sounded more as though it belonged inside a mental hospital, and goose bumps broke out across his skin despite the heat. Trina was staring at the floor, her gaze so empty that Mark felt another pang of loss. He stepped closer to the girls and reached out a hand. The man hidden in the rafters continued to chuckle.