Chapter Thirty-One
He'd gone the wrong way. twists and turns in the cold and empty hall had led him to a storage room - a dead end.
"There are now three minutes until detonation. "
Leon turned back the way he'd come, and with what felt like the very last of his strength, forced himself into a stumbling run. He was too exhausted to feel disappointed, to worry about his impending death, to wish that things were different; it took all of his energy just to keep moving. He'd make it or he wouldn't; either way, he didn't think he'd be surprised.
Claire hit the floor at the base of the stairs and leapt to her feet, blood running down her leg in a hot pulse of stinging pain. She staggered away, nothing broken, but she knew her clawed leg was just the begin-ning of what it would do to her, a prelude to the real pain. Mr. X was still bent over the railing of the steps, but as she stumbled away, back toward the broken gate of the platform, the monster pushed itself off. It turned its immense body in her direction, the open blackness of its empty eye socket drooling out some dark and ichorous liquid. It would compensate for its altered senses, she was sure - it would compensate, realign, run at her again - and would slaughter her like the merciless machine it was, there was nothing she could do to stop it.
At least I'll die in the explosion. . .
Claire tripped on the metal bars of the gate, barely catching herself, blood pattering to the ground as she staggered another step, please let it be quick. . . "Here! Use this!"
Claire spun, saw that Mr. X was positioning itself for its killing strike - and saw the silhouette high above, on the walkway over the train. A woman's voice, a woman's shape, the shadowed figure throwing something -
-who -
-that clattered across the concrete, landing be-tween her and Mr. X. It was metal, it was silver, she'd seen them in movies, it was a machine gun and Claire ran for it. Another final hope, another chance, however slim, that she and Sherry would survive. She reached the weapon, dropped, saw X pushing itself toward her, the thunder of its steps shaking the ground and she scooped up the heavy gun, kicking against the floor and rolling onto her back, her shaking hand finding the trigger, her body moving to accommodate the weapon. Stock on the ground, arms twisted around the cold metal, aiming -
- please please -
The monster was only a step away when the spray of bullets crashed out of the gun, a clattering, rattling string of tiny explosions that shook Claire's entire body and whammed into the gut of the beast, the sheer force of so many rounds stopping it in mid- stride and pushing it back.
- tattatattatatta -
She felt the vibrating metal trying to shake itself free of her grip, so she held it tighter, the butt of the weapon tapping against the floor at a manic pace. The bullets were still pounding into the creature's abdo- men, so fast and so many that she couldn't hear her own gasping cries of fury and pain and exaltation. . . . . . and Mr. X was trying to move forward, but a strange thing was happening, a strange and beautiful thing. Its gut was being shredded by the endless stream of rounds, its midsection gaining depth and texture, black fluids coursing down its lower half from the ragged, growing wound. X's mouth was open, an empty hole like its eye socket - and like the socket, thick liquid was pouring out, obscuring its pitiless face.
- tattatattatat -
Claire held on, directing the hail, watching the creature try to stand against the pulsing, crashing spray. Watching it bleed. Watching as it seemed to condense, its massive body crumpling, its torso sink- ing down. The bullets still flying, Mr. X raised its arms and split in two. Claire took her finger off the trigger as X's upper body toppled to the cement, a wet slap of heavy meat, and its legs collapsed, falling to one side, more strange blood gushing from both halves. Pools of shiny black grew around the massive pieces of its broken body, forming stinking puddles. The creature was dead and even if it wasn't, it didn't matter anymore. Unless it could pull itself across the floor as fast as she could run, her battle with the terrible mystery that had been Mr. X was finally through -
-hell with all that, no time, MOVE!
Claire was on her feet in a second, ignoring the squelch of blood in her boot and the pain that had caused it, her gaze searching the upper platform for her unknown savior. No one was there, and she didn't know if another minute had ticked by, the warning lost in the gunfire. "Hey!" Claire shouted, backing toward the subway car. "We have to go, now!" No answer, no sound but the ringing in her ears and the echo of her trembling words. If she wanted to save Sherry. . . Claire turned and ran. * * *
". . . two minutes until. . . "
Leon pushed himself to go faster, the twining tunnel a blur of gray that spun past his aching, breathless perception. He'd lost all track of the turns and twists of the corridor and was rapidly losing hope, a voice in the back of his mind telling him that maybe it would be best to stop, to sit and rest and then he heard it, and that tiny, despairing whisper was obliterated by the sound. The sound of heavy machinery stirring to life, somewhere up ahead. Not far ahead.
Train!
Faster, legs distant, rubbery, lungs working, heart pounding - one way or another, it was almost over.