His body crumpled to the ground, unable to move. His ears rang, and he wasn’t even sure which way was up.
Pain finally caught up with the trauma he’d just endured, and the left side of his body began to throb as if it were still being pounded.
Marcus took the pain as proof he was still alive, and pushed himself up, using his ax as a cane.
The ’Gast was almost within reach again. Another slug like the last one, and Marcus wasn’t sure he’d be able to get back up.
A quick glance around the room showed nowhere to hide. The darkened corners and the space behind a giant shipping container would only cage him and serve as a surface the ’Gast could bounce him off.
Running was an option, but for all he knew, he’d head right into another Fractogast and have two to deal with. Or a pile of shells. Those weren’t the kind of odds he’d survive.
So he did the only thing he could think to do. He backed up onto the raised platform to where the newly finished ring stood.
Energy emanated from the thing, blasting him with a wave of mental heat as he approached. The machine was powerful. Now that he was close, he could sense that not only had it been completed; it had also been activated.
This was the thing he’d felt before—the machine that would bring more Fractogasts to kill innocents. And it was revving up fast, getting ready to do its job.
A device this intricate and powerful had to be precious to the Fractogasts. He was counting on it.
Blood dripped along his temple. The steps leading up to the device seemed almost impossibly steep. He managed to climb them only by using the ax to steady himself.
He didn’t dare turn his back on the ’Gast. Inching backward took time, but as he got closer to the machine, the creature began to hesitate.
Rapid clicks poured from the thing’s mouth, so fast it almost sounded like the beating of insect wings. Marcus had no clue what it was saying, but the closer he got to the machine, the faster the clicks came. The steady stream of sound got louder, and the ’Gast came to a halt, holding up its elongated hands.
Marcus froze in place, trying to figure out his next move. Dizziness and pain made thinking almost impossible. As it was, they were at an awkward stalemate, and every second he held it was one more that Simone and the kid had a chance to get away. He didn’t want to do anything to mess that up. At least they could warn someone of what was about to happen.
Seconds ticked by. Two more Fractogasts entered the room. He couldn’t tell if they were the same two Simone had drawn away with her safety net or not. For all he knew, there were dozens of the things lurking in this building.
Between waves of dizziness, one thing became clear to Marcus: He wasn’t going to make it out of this alive. There were too many of them. He wasn’t fast enough to outrun those long legs. And even if he was, there were likely going to be a dozen zombie shells between here and his RV. Assuming Simone hadn’t already driven away in it.
The hammer was here. Once he died, they’d take it from his belt and use it to build another one of these machines. Unless he found a way to destroy the hammer.
There was no source of heat intense enough to melt the metal or even singe the handle. The most powerful thing in the room was the oddly shaped ring.
The area he guessed to be the control panel was completely alien. No buttons or levers. The only reason he suspected that the flat area activated the device was that he sensed a trickle of purpose coming from it that seemed to fit the bill.
Maybe if he slammed the hammer down on it hard enough, there’d be some kind of energy feedback that would shatter both objects. Or blow this place up, along with the Fractogasts who could use the hammer to build another portal.
It was a long shot, but it was the best option he could think of.
Marcus lifted the hammer to take out the panel when one of the ’Gasts screeched. He’d never heard the noise before, and it made him look up for a split second—just long enough to see two human shells dragging Simone’s unconscious body in by her boots.
Her dark hair fanned out behind her, sweeping through the muck on the tile. She was too pale, and a deep, bloody gash bisected her hairline.
The closest Fractogast picked her up as if she weighed no more than a doll. It held her limp body in one arm and wrapped its spindly fingers around her neck.
Its gaze swung back around, the message clear: If Marcus destroyed the device, the Fractogast would do the same to Simone.
5
Simone woke in the arms of the creature that had killed her husband. Maybe it wasn’t the specific one who’d drained Jeremy of his life, but a detail like that hardly mattered right now.
The Fractogast’s skin was rough, like heavy-duty sandpaper. There was no give, no cushion to its limbs, and they were cool to the touch. It gave off the faint smell of burning hair, and each small shift of its body made a low crunching sound that set her teeth on edge.
She’d never been this close to one before, and now that she was, she was reevaluating her initial opinion that they were beautiful creatures.
In a distant part of her brain that was just now waking up, she realized that she wasn’t afraid. Pissed off? Yes. Disgusted? Big yes. But there was no fear.
What could this creature do to her that was any worse than taking from her the man she loved, and killing their unborn child? Everything she loved had been stolen. All the thing could do now was kill her, and that was a pale comparison to the hell she’d already endured.
Her head throbbed. She felt the wet trickle of blood cooling along her hairline. A slow pitch and roll of nausea sloshed in her gut.
She tried to sit up to ease the queasiness, but the ’Gast’s grip on her throat kept her immobile.
“Simone?” came a voice she recognized.
Brighton. He was across the room on the platform, that hammer raised in threat.
“Hold on. I’ll get us out of here.” Confidence rang in his tone, making her laugh at the ridiculousness of his claim.
“Yeah, you get right on that. I’ll just be here, hanging out.”
The ’Gast holding her screeched, and gave her a hard shake. Her head nearly split apart with the sound.
“You leave her the fuck alone,” warned Brighton. “You hurt her and your precious machine will be in pieces before you can stop me.”
The machine—the one that was going to let more of these murderous Fractogasts crawl through. It was glowing and whirring like it had been fired up.
More people would die. More husbands. More children.
Like hell.
A fiery wave of anger burst in her chest, clearing away the fog that had left her passive and compliant. No way was she going to let these things win. Sure, maybe the idea of dying didn’t scare her that much, but what about that kid they’d saved? What about his mother? His father? They were afraid of death. They all had something to lose.
There were a lot of happy families out there, and Simone wasn’t going to let even one more of them get ripped apart by these creatures the way hers had.
She shifted in the Fractogast’s grip, moving just enough to reach the knife in her purse. She didn’t know if these things had a soft spot, but she was going to find out.
The ’Gast’s beady eyes were fixed on Brighton, like he was the only threat in the room. From somewhere across the space, she heard another of those grating screams, but the warning came too late.
She plunged her knife up, aiming for the ’Gast’s throat, right under its chin. The blade barely penetrated the skin, but it was enough of a shock to make the thing drop her like a hot rock.
Simone hit the ground hard. She tried to roll away, but the blow to the head had left her dizzy and clumsy. Instead of getting out of the range of those giant feet, she managed to make it only about two yards before she rolled right into the body of the old woman.
The shadow of the Fractogast’s foot passed over her. Brighton shouted her name in frantic warning.
Simone slipped another knife from her boot and leveled it just as the platter-sized foot came crashing down.
The blade skewered its foot, shoving the butt of the knife into her chest.
One of her ribs cracked. The ’Gast reeled back and toppled over. It landed in a pile of discarded metal. Something snapped as loud as a tree branch breaking.
When she looked, she saw that the ’Gast was still. Dead or disabled. She really didn’t care so long as it wasn’t coming after her anymore.
Two more of the things surged forward.
Brighton yelled, “Stop!” at them, raising his hammer a few more inches in warning.
They stopped.
“You’re going to run, Simone. The boots will make you fast. Hide you. I’ll be right behind you.”
“I’m not leaving you behind again.”
“Just go. Now.”
She’d already left him once to get the kid out. She could have kept running then, but something in her—something she had thought long dead—forced her to turn around. There was still some life left in her. Some goodness. Some fight.
A whole lot of fight.
She pushed herself to her feet, swaying. Bloody hair fell into her eyes. She didn’t bother to wipe it away. Every bit of strength she had left she needed to kill these fuckers.
Safety net number two was still in the purse. “Boom incoming.”
“What are you doing?” asked Brighton. “Get out of here.”
“I’m improvising. Be ready to run.”
“I’m not leaving until this machine is disabled.”
“We’ll disable it after we leave.”
“Explosives?” he asked. “It might not work.”
“Explosives always work.” If she used enough of them.
“It took a magic hammer to build this thing. It may also take magic to destroy it.”
“I’m all out of magical C-4. Sorry. We’ll have to take our chances.”
“Not this time, Simone. I’m sorry.” With that apology hanging in the air, he slammed the hammer down onto the machine.
Both Fractogasts screeched in fury and lunged forward.
Simone ran toward Brighton as she flung one of her throwing knives at the ’Gast in front. The blade bounced off its skin, but its attention shifted to her.