The Viperob Files Read online

  “Have you seen Gwen?”

  Jaego was a picture of exhaustion as he leant forward from the waist, hands on knees, chest heaving. His breathing was ragged, punctuated by wet, hacking coughs as he shook his head. “I couldn’t see anything out there.” Jaego paused for a moment as his chest convulsed with another series of coughs. “I thought she jumped after me?”

  Ethan glanced up at the bridge to the cut harnesses. Nothing but three strips of nylon waved in the breeze. Gwen had definitely taken the plunge and that meant she was still in the water. Or beneath it.

  He swore under his breath as he took a step toward the waves. “I’ll go back for her,” he said with a grimace. Entering the water again was the last thing he wanted to do, but if she’d been hurt in the fall, he had no time to waste.

  “She’s going to have to take her chances, mate,” said Jaego. “We’ve got company.”

  A metallic chirp echoed from along the beach to the boy’s right, causing a chill down his spine.

  Tri-Claw.

  In his rush to escape the water, he’d forgotten about the monster they’d seen awaiting them on the beach. He spun toward the sound, silently praying Gwen wasn’t face down in the water.

  Far to the right, a ridge of sandstone emerged from the water, stretching up the beach like the exposed spine of a leviathan. The shadow cast on the near side of the rock was ink black. As he watched, a massive claw emerged from the darkness followed closely by its twin. A shaft of light from the Maglev carriage illuminated swirls of blood-red on the claws, the colours seeming to move as liquid while the pincers slowly opened and closed.

  “It must have heard us,” muttered Jaego. The side of his face where Gwen’s boot had clipped him had begun to swell, left eye undercut by a darkening bruise, while blood oozed in a steady trickle from his hairline. His eyes were bright though, shining with a fierce determination that Ethan could trust to remain at his side until the end of the coming fight. Jaego unclipped the holster at his waist and pulled out the handgun he’d stolen from the Spec Ops officer. With practiced efficiency, he checked the magazine before slamming it home and racking the slide. “I’ve ten rounds, how about you?”

  Ethan slapped his hand down onto the side of his waist. Shit! The holster was empty, clip undone. “My gun’s gone,” he muttered.

  “You got to be kidding me,” said Jaego as his eyes flicked off the target for a moment to Ethan. “Where did you lose it?”

  “Don’t know. Might have happened when I was pulling Gwen back onto the track, or during the swim to shore.” Ethan’s face burned with a mix of shame and anger at losing his weapon. “Doesn’t change the fact the damn thing’s gone.”

  The front half of the monster had now emerged from the shadow, and Ethan felt the sudden need to piss. He was terrified, no denying it. They’d fought Tri-Claw and won in the past, but nothing of this size. It was huge, easily double the size of the creature they’d fought as a trio near the station. Each razor-sharp claw was the length of Ethan’s arm. The ribbed shell of the mutated trilobite rose in a dome well over head-height and as wide as a small truck. As if born of fire, red and orange swirls covered the shell. The massive weight was carried forward by three sets of jointed legs that stabbed deep into the sand with every step. Beneath the front edge of the humped shell, four glittering obsidian eyes observed the boys with the cold detachment of an apex predator.

  “You still have the bang stick though, don’t you?”

  Ethan shrugged the backpack off his shoulder and with relief he felt the unassembled lengths of steel tubing through the fabric.

  “Got it.”

  The Tri-Claw emitted another metallic chirp. The noise was louder this time, reverberating in Ethan’s chest as the creature’s sonar hit him with physical force. The call evidently satisfied the Tri-Claw that it had found prey, as it suddenly became more animated, scuttling out of the shadow in their direction. Scorpion tail arched stiffly over its back, needle-sharp stinger primed and dripping poison. It took a path along the foreshore, herding the boys back from the water’s edge.

  “I’ll cover you while you get it assembled,” said Jaego. He stepped forward, placing himself between Ethan and the approaching Tri-Claw, now less than thirty metres distant.

  Ethan held the bag in one hand while the other dived inside, searching blindly for the three parts. They were both forced to retreat up the beach as the monster came at them. Ethan tucked the lengths of tubing under his arm, stuffed a few ammunition rounds into his pocket, then dumped the bag. He fumbled the first pieces together, screwing until he felt the final click. Ethan nearly dropped the third section as his foot turned on a rock. He glanced up at the Tri-Claw, twenty metres away. He grimaced and dropped to a squat so he could work more easily, sweat beading on his forehead, tongue stuck in one corner of his mouth as he concentrated.

  Jaego stood firm before him. Ethan knew that he was waiting until the monster was closer before shooting, waiting until he could ensure accuracy and have the best chance of punching through the shell. At fifteen metres, he squeezed off two measured shots. One found a joint between the shell and the left claw, punching through the softer section and into the flesh beneath. The creature screamed, a metallic high-pitched noise of pain and fury as the claw dropped to the ground, hanging by a shred of bloody tissue from the main shell. The second shot ricocheted off the lip of shell above the head, going on to plough harmlessly into the sand. Ethan forced himself to ignore the beast, focused instead on quickly inserting the high-calibre round into the powerhead and screwing it home. Finally, the weapon was ready.

  Jaego screamed, a guttural, ragged sound of tearing vocal cords. Ethan grasped the bang stick in his right hand as he stood. The Tri-Claw had its last functioning claw clamped around Jaego’s leg. Instead of snipping straight through the muscle and bone, it first used the grip to shake Jaego viciously, his body jerking like a ragdoll until he lost grip of his pistol and the weapon went flying.

  Ethan reacted instinctively. Now should have been the time to go for the soft head, drive the powerhead up and under the shell and deliver a .303 bullet into the monster’s brain while the only claw was occupied. But the scream of his friend could not be ignored. Blood sheeted down Jaego’s leg from where the claw had buried deep about his right calf, half-severing the muscles as the monster held him tight. Ethan leant forward with arm outstretched, his face less than a handspan from the creature’s head and jammed the end of the powerhead into the joint between claw and body. The bang stick kicked hard as the round detonated and blew the limb clear off the Tri-Claw.

  Jaego dropped to the ground, the severed claw still clutching his lower leg with pincers buried deep in his muscles. Ethan grabbed hold of him by the shirt and hauled him backwards, trying to gain some distance as the beast screamed. Spear-pointed legs stabbed the sand as the Tri-Claw spun in a whirling dervish of agony. Ethan fumbled in his pocket for another round then loaded the bang stick’s powerhead, keeping an eye on the thrashing creature from the corner of his eye.

  The Tri-Claw finally came to a stop and turned to face the boys again. The soft head extended out from under the shell for the first time. The skin on the head was light pink, blotched with ruby-coloured birth marks. Four obsidian eyes fixed upon the boys as its mouth opened, emitting a hideous shriek. Needle-sharp teeth ringed the beast’s maw, a stream of frothy saliva oozing as it came at them again.

  Ethan glanced over his shoulder, but there was no room left for retreat. The beach ended, rising in a boulder-strewn slope that would force him to turn his back on the beast to climb. He firmed his grip on the bang stick and stood his ground. If he was to be stabbed with a venom-loaded stinger, then he’d do it face on.

  Jaego groaned behind him as he tightened a belt tourniquet around his thigh to slow the loss of blood. With a hand on either side of the claw about his calf, he wrenched it open, freeing himself of its grip. He moaned as a cavernous wound was left behind, muscle weeping blood to drench his sock in crim
son despite the tourniquet.

  The Tri-Claw came forward more slowly this time, each of its six legs trembling from the pain of its severed claws. The long scorpion tail arched over its back, the stinger hovering a handspan above its head.

  It’s scared of us. “We’re the first prey that have bitten back, eh?” muttered Ethan. He took a two-handed grip on his weapon, pointing the powerhead forward like a medieval pike, ready for the inevitable charge. The Tri-Claw paused three paces distant, the stinger swaying between the two mates as if choosing its first target. The stinger steadied in the air, pointing directly at Ethan’s face.

  Suddenly, it launched forward in a blur of speed, front leg smashing aside the bang stick before Ethan could ram the tip into the creature’s face. The black steel tube flipped in the air, skidding to a stop metres away, leaving him defenceless. The Tri-Claw screamed again, face now almost within arm’s reach as it reared over him. Pale green venom dripped from above, soaking into the shoulder of his shirt. Ethan looked up to see the needle point of the stinger hovering straight above him.

  Now that all options were gone, Ethan found his fear had disappeared as well. When death becomes a certainty, there’s nothing left but to face it as best you can. He dry-swallowed, pulled a knife from his waist band that was about as useless as a toothpick, and took a fighting stance for the last time.

  “Come on then, you bastard. Let’s get it over with.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Gwen splashed out of the shallows, numb fingers unclipping the holster and withdrawing her hand gun as she ran up the beach towards her mates. They were about a hundred metres distant. In her trouble reaching the surface, the current had swept her farther down than the boys. Her breath rasped in her ears, muscles buzzing as adrenaline surged. She was scared shitless as she sprinted, but the fear of losing her friends outweighed her terror of the beast ahead. In the last couple of days, they’d become like family. Both had risked their own lives for her, and she for them, but she’d be damned if she stood by and watched them die without joining the fight.

  Fifty metres away.

  She gave a silent cheer as she saw Ethan sever the second claw. That left the tail as the last major weapon on the Tri-Claw. She angled in, a plan now in her mind as she came up behind the creature as it turned once again to finish the fight.

  Spiked feet stabbed into the ground with such force as the beast changed its position that she could feel it through the sand. Gwen was close now. She didn’t slow, sprinted close and jammed the end of her pistol into a gap between articulating armoured plates at the base of its tail. She squeezed the trigger three times rapidly, hollow-pointed bullets blasting through the surface of the joint, shredding muscle, flesh and blood supply to the tail before burying deeper into the main body of the monster.

  The Tri-Claw screamed again in rage as blood pumped in arterial spurts from the wound. The tail flipped backwards, limp and useless. One of the beast’s pointed legs skewered its own tail by accident as it tried to spin and face its new threat, ripping the appendage clear off its own body. Gwen dove out of the way, desperately trying to avoid getting impaled by one of the legs herself. She hit the ground, rolled forward into a crouch again, gun still in hand. Her left hand stung, having punched hard into a rock in her fall.

  “Gwen! Throw the bang stick to me!” shouted Ethan.

  She glanced and saw the slick black tubing in the grit, realizing vaguely that it hadn’t been a rock she’d hit with her hand. Gwen ripped it off the ground and tossed it sideways to where he crouched below the Tri-Claw. Ethan snatched it out of the air and in a fluid movement, drove the powerhead tip forward, straight into the soft face of the beast. The round detonated, driving a .303 bullet deep into the brain of the Tri-Claw. Like a puppet with its strings cut, the beast crashed into the sand. Jointed legs quivered for a few moments, twitching weakly before falling still.

  Gwen stared at the dead monster, her brain struggling to believe the images that her eyes sent. They’d done it. Killed the largest predator she’d ever seen with little more than a few small arm weapons.

  A low groan drew her attention back to the boys. She jogged over to them to where Ethan was now helping Jaego to stem the bleeding. He glanced up at her.

  “Put a hand on this, will you. The tourniquet’s not holding it.”

  A thin jet of blood sprayed onto the sand as Ethan moved his hand away for her to take over. Gwen pushed down firmly onto the wound, driving the end of her thumb directly onto the bleeding vessel to clamp it off. Jaego was pale, eyes sunken. He’d lost too much blood already. First things first, they needed to stop his haemorrhage.

  “I’ll be back in a sec.” Without further explanation, Ethan darted off back down the beach towards his dropped bag.

  Gwen turned back to Jaego. “How are you holding in there?”

  Jaego winced as she pushed on his wound but managed a tight smile. “I’ve been better.”

  Ethan skidded back onto the ground next to them, bag in hand. He ripped it open and pulled out the first aid kit they’d taken from the house. He searched through it, then held up two packets with a victorious grin.

  “I knew they were in there!” He ripped open the first packet, asked Gwen to move her hand aside, and then upended a stream of powder into Jaego’s wound. The powder mixed with the blood in the wound, producing a mildly fizzing gunk that expanded in the wound. Within moments, the bleeding had ceased entirely, and Ethan wrapped a tight field dressing around the limb, sealing off the wound.

  “Where’d you get the Haemostop from?” asked Gwen.

  “My dad got it a while back, probably through your old man’s business, I reckon.” Now that Jaego’s wound was sorted for the moment, he looked at Gwen properly for the first time.

  “You’ve got good timing, Russo, I’ll give you that. I thought we were goners there for a sec.”

  Gwen ginned back at him. “What? Is that supposed to be a thanks?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  Jaego interrupted them. “Don’t go throwing high-fives and celebrating just yet. We’ve still got those bastards up in the train to deal with.”

  Gwen glanced over her shoulder up at the Maglev. She could see the face of Harris glaring down from one of the windows, shouting something unintelligible. It still didn’t make any sense why they hadn’t opened the door and started shooting at them.

  “I can’t run anywhere with my leg like this,” said Jaego. “Leave me a gun with some ammo and I’ll try and hold them off for you two, give you a chance to make a proper escape.”

  Ethan and Gwen both shook their heads.

  “We’ve come this far as a group. Either we make it out together, or not at all,” said Gwen.

  “I agree,” said Ethan. “Not a chance we’re leaving you on your own, mate.”

  “Except, we have only two pistols, a handful of rounds, and a cripple to weigh you down,” muttered Jaego.

  Ethan shrugged. “It is what it is, mate.”

  Gwen ejected the magazine of her pistol and grimaced at the contents. “I’ve only got five rounds.”

  Ethan had retrieved Jaego’s pistol from where the Tri-Claw had flicked it. “This one’s got six. I can’t lie, if we’re taking them on, I’d rather have a little more to defend ourselves with.” He looked up at the guards in the train, briefly. “We should get going while we have the chance. If they come after us, we’ll deal with it when we have to.”

  Gwen was staring at the carriage as Ethan finished talking. “We won’t be running, guys.” Her stomach clenched, chest suddenly tight. “The door’s opening.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Harris’s face was flushed, black swollen eyelids closed to mere slits while an artery pulsed like it might to explode at the side of his forehead. Frustration at seeing the kids fight off the Tri-Claw was sending his blood pressure through the roof and taking his migraine to the next level.

  He couldn’t think straight. Anger threatened to overtak
e the last of his self-control. Harris was mad at his bosses for making him clean up their mess, and furious that a bunch of kids had killed his officers. But most of all, he was disgusted by his failure to retrieve the files. His career would be terminated and life forfeit if he didn’t return with the data chip in hand. Harris gripped his pistol in a white-knuckled fist as he turned away from the window.

  “Give me that goddamned phone,” he muttered and wrenched the handset from his officer.

  Now that the time to act was at hand, the rail employee back at the control room seemed to have caught a bad case of conscience and was refusing to open the cabin door.

  “It’s Lieutenant Harris here, Tony,” he grated. “If you don’t open this bloody door, I swear you and your entire family won’t live out the day!”

  Harris didn’t catch the man’s response, but it didn’t matter. The light had gone on next to the doorway, announcing that it was about to open. The coward had folded—they always did.

  Harris dropped the handset and racked the slide of his pistol. He thumped a hand on the shoulder of the hulking guard and shoved him towards the door.

  “When that door opens, shoot to kill. I want that data chip, but more importantly, I want them dead.”

  Chapter Forty

  Tony’s hand shook as he replaced the handset and hit a button to open the carriage doors. Sour bile rose at the back of his throat. He’d never thought of himself as a child murderer, but here he was, helping an evil man kill a bunch of teenagers for reasons he didn’t understand.

  Tony had heard every word spat at him by the Spec Ops officers on the Maglev. He knew that the teenagers were on the beach at the far side of the bridge, knew that they’d somehow survived a fight against a Tri-Claw. He’d held out until after the fight’s end to open the doors, thinking that if one of the foul monsters killed the children, he wouldn’t have to play a role in their death. But, no. The kids had survived. And he found a large part of him exalted in their success.