“Looks like a hive,” Timothy whispered. “Just like the science team said.”
“We can’t go straight at the building,” Boyd said. “They’d cut us down before we got there.”
“You got that right.” Ruckley pointed to a panel of grating on the sidewalk that led to a storm drain. “That’s why we’re going underground.”
Another rash of gunfire echoed somewhere to the south. Probably TF Bravo caught in another firefight.
Timothy felt the smooth wooden beads of his bracelet. He found strength in the simple touch as he watched Ruckley exchange more hand signals with the other squad leaders. The teams both got up and started to move into position to provide a distraction.
As soon as the first gunshot rang out and the other squads were pounding the Variants roaming around the Grand Canal Shoppes, Ruckley gave the order to advance.
Keeping low, Timothy hurried across the street, again bracing himself for incoming rounds and dodging between debris for shelter. He made it across the street a minute later with the rest of the team.
Boyd and Wong lifted the grate from the sidewalk, heaving it to the side. It let out a jarring scrape against the concrete, and Timothy crouched instinctively, scanning their surroundings with his rifle.
All the beasts and collaborators were too distracted by the incoming gunfire from the other squads to notice. The distraction was working.
Ruckley signaled Wong down first. Timothy followed, then came Boyd and Ruckley.
The stench of the place slammed into Timothy like he had run straight into a wall. He pulled a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. Goosebumps prickled across his skin.
Without any light deeper in the tunnel, they were forced to flip up their NVGs and turn on their tac lights. Slowly they navigated through the massive concrete tunnel. Webbing covered every surface, throbbing red in the pale wash of their flashlights.
Between the echoing fire aboveground, he listened for the scrape of claws down here, waiting for an ambush.
Keep moving Timothy, just keep moving.
Like his father had always told him, no matter what you did in life, you kept pushing forward.
He kept close to Ruckley, making their way past the rotting bodies of humans and animals stuck to the walls. Fissures in the concrete let through columns of shifting dirt and dust with each walloping boom of an exploding grenade above.
So far, it seemed the attack was working. The monsters were focused on the main assault force. Teams like his, Recon Sigma, and the others could move into position within the Venetian and set explosives.
Then once Beckham and Horn or Team Ghost confirmed they had caught the Prophet, they would bring this whole damn hive down.
The storm drain dragged on. Another heavy thudding explosion caused a violent crack in the ceiling. Small chunks of concrete fell over their heads.
As the blast settled, Timothy heard a loud thump.
Wong held up a fist, and they all dropped into kneeling positions, lights aimed down the tunnel. Something huge burst into an intersection about fifty yards ahead, white flesh with massive limbs and batlike ears.
The beast turned their direction, letting out a shrill series of clicks, its ears twitching.
Timothy sucked in a breath at the sight of the monster.
It was an Alpha.
Ruckley gave the signal, and they opened fire.
The beast ducked into their gunfire, bullets riddling its flesh and sparking against the concrete around it. It barreled ahead on all fours, letting out a guttural roar.
Other hellish voices echoed behind the monster. Another five Variants galloped behind the brute, stringy muscles rippling beneath their skin.
As rounds lanced into the Alpha, it shuddered, absorbing the impacts and slowing.
Timothy heard another series of shrieks coming from behind.
He twisted, his flashlight illuminating the tunnel they had already traveled through. A group of ten juvenile Variants with armored flesh chased after them.
“Ruckley, our six!” Timothy shouted.
She was probably doing the math like he was.
Those beasts were too close, too many of them. They couldn’t sustain a firefight without solid cover. Especially not against the armored juveniles.
Ruckley grabbed a grenade from her vest, motioning for Timothy to do the same.
Beckham had taught him that a concussive blast in a confined place like this was risky. The force would be concentrated by the walls, tearing them apart if they threw the grenades too close to their positions.
If the blasts didn’t destroy their organs, then it might bring the roof down on top of them.
From the front, the Alpha let out an angry yell, stumbling toward them, one of its legs limp. The other five creatures behind it rushed past. One fell in the gunfire. Another was shredded.
The ten juveniles were closing in from behind, too, jaws snapping, lips smacking together.
“Fire in the hole!” Ruckley said.
She threw her grenade like a major league pitcher. Timothy followed her lead.
The two grenades sailed toward the juveniles.
But the beasts were too fast. They surged past the grenades.
Timothy swung his rifle up, right when the first grenade detonated. The tunnel shook. Flames danced behind the monsters, swallowing part of the tunnel. Several juveniles were knocked off their feet. Then the second grenade exploded.
This time, the fissures in the ceiling spread with the expanding fire. More of the creatures stumbled. Timothy was knocked off his feet by the blast. He hit the ground hard, his ears ringing, head pounding.
Ruckley grimaced next to him, blinking away the pain.
More concrete chunks fell from the ceiling. Like an avalanche, the tunnel began collapsing behind them, swallowing the entrance they had come through with a monstrous roar.
Pieces rained from the ceiling on the dazed juveniles. They tried to stand and scramble away but falling concrete crushed their bodies.
The ceiling didn’t stop collapsing after the beasts were swallowed in the rubble. The tide of destruction came toward Timothy and Ruckley.
“Move!” Ruckley yelled. She jumped to her feet and grabbed Timothy, pulling him into
