The shells he had had in his pockets, bandolier, and tac vest were now gone. He reached into an ammo box placed near his position, grabbing the few remaining shells, then pumping them into his shotgun.
The spotlights continued to probe the clouds, shotgun blasts and explosions echoing over Galveston. He expended the final shells and switched to his M4A1.
The weapon was nowhere near as suitable for taking down flitting airborne targets like the shotgun, but he had no choice.
As soon as he brought it up the explosions faded away, until there was only the emergency sirens and screams of the injured and dying.
A light rain started to fall, but it wasn’t enough to put out the raging flames.
Beckham checked the tall form of the hospital toward the northeast silhouetted in the fog, relieved to see no flames were leaping from it. At least for now, the science team was safe.
Ruckley cautiously lowered her pistol. “That was just a warning, wasn’t it? Just to show us they still hold all the cards.”
“Yeah,” Beckham said with a grunt.
He maintained his aim on the clouds as rain splashed over his face. It would be just like the New Gods to send a follow-up attack when they had let their guard down and were helping the injured after that slaughter.
The New Gods soon proved he was right.
A few more bats fluttered from the clouds and the soldiers opened fire.
This time there were no explosions. The dead bats spiraled to the ground. One landed just outside the wall.
“Captain, look!” Ruckley said.
A cloud of what appeared to be white smoke spread from the dead bat.
“Gas, gas, gas!” Beckham shouted. “Masks, now!”
He pulled on his own mask and strapped it over his face. Jacobs passed on the warning to the wall garrison, activating a new alarm that shrieked over the base.
Soldiers on the wall and in the tower near Beckham fixed their masks into place. But for those who had been injured in the explosive attack, there would be no escaping the poison spewing from this new round of bats. The second wave of beasts had landed throughout the base, tendrils of white smoke spewing out from the small canisters attached to their bodies.
As flames continued to chew through the surrounding buildings, poisonous gas filled the night air. The attack was quickly becoming deadlier than he had feared.
At this rate, he wondered if they would even survive until dawn to meet the real monsters.
***
Dohi ducked behind a parked semi-truck. A group of Chimeras marched down the street with cutlasses strapped over their backs and rifles cradled over their chests.
Corrin knelt beside him, and just a few yards back, Rico and Fitz were positioned behind a Jeep just behind the truck’s trailer. They had scoured another building large enough to serve as a prison. All they had found was pulsating webbing and rotting corpses.
For all Dohi knew, that cavern of death could have been the former prison they were looking for. As their mission wore on, he worried the army they had sought to raise might not exist. Searching building by building had only deepened those fears.
Ghost needed a shortcut, a quicker way to find the prison, if it did still exist. Dohi ducked at the sound of more footsteps headed their direction.
“Humans,” Corrin whispered.
Dohi risked a glimpse around the tires, seeing the Chimera was right. All four collaborators walked casually down the street.
Our ticket to the prison, he thought.
As the collaborators drew closer, Dohi whispered a plan to Corrin. The Chimera listened intently, nodding, then crouched near the front of the truck, ready to intercept the collaborators.
Dohi remained hunched behind the tires, peering around the rig. Fitz and Rico had disappeared behind the Jeep.
Before the men passed in front of the semi-truck, Corrin strode out in front of them feigning the confidence of a New Gods Scion.
“What are you doing?” he said with a growl. “Did you not listen to your orders? You’re supposed to be helping me with prisoners.”
“But—” one of the collaborators began, looking at the others in confusion.
Corrin snarled and cut the man off. “Say another word and it will be your last.” He turned and began walking behind the rig. “Follow me or you’ll be the next strung up on the webs.”
The four men did as instructed. As they trailed the Chimera, Rico and Fitz sprinted around the other side of the truck to ambush them from behind.
Corrin stopped and looked at Dohi, giving him a slight nod.
At that signal, Dohi lunged from his hiding spot with his hatchet in one hand and knife in the other. The hatchet crunched heavily into the lead collaborator’s skull.
Corrin drew his cutlass. The blade sliced through the air in a violent swoop, the gruesome weapon lopping off the head of another collaborator.
The other two turned to run, but Rico and Fitz cut them off with their weapons leveled straight at them as Dohi retrieved his hatchet.
“Make a noise and you’re both dead,” Rico said.
The collaborators both halted and held up their hands. Dohi relieved them of their weapons and Corrin aimed his cutlass toward the men.
“I’m only going to ask you this once,” Fitz said. “Tell us where the prisoners are.”
Neither answered.
“First of you to tell me gets to live,” Fitz said.
“The linear accelerator!” one blurted.
The other collaborator tried to run, but made it only three steps before Dohi’s hatchet hit the man in the back of his head.
Dohi walked over and yanked it out with a wet squelch, eying the final collaborator. The captive man stared in horror. He was young, maybe in his twenties, with a long beard and floppy ears like an Alpha Variant’s.
“Let’s go,” Fitz said. “Bring him.”
“If you lied to us, your death won’t be nearly as quick and easy as your pal’s,” Rico said. She bound his wrist with plastic ties while Fitz took his shemagh scarf
