James Axler – Rat King

Tricks got lucky one time. There was a deafening report that made Mildred wince

as the blaster exploded in the ville dweller’s hand, separating it from her arm

near the elbow. The flash from the explosion seared the skin from her face,

enlarging the snuffling hole that should have been a nose, her ragged and matted

hair catching fire and forming a halo of flame around her head. Her scream was

piercing.

Tricks looked in horror, momentarily forgetting Mildred. It was all the

distraction she needed. Spinning, her foot followed through the momentum and

caught Tricks on the wrist, knocking the blaster from her hand and cracking the

fragile bones in her mutie wrist Tricks’s own scream joined in awful harmony

with the ville dweller.

As Mildred prepared to follow through with another attack, she heard a shot that

sounded like another explosion in the contained space. Tricks’s face took on a

pained, surprised expression, her perfect mouth forming an O of surprise, her

brown eyes bulging from the sockets as her whitecoated torso became a mass of

red, her back blossoming red in an outward spray as a load of shot from a

homemade blaster ripped through her.

The shot continued across the room, striking the mainframe, which exploded in a

fury of sparks and flame.

“Oh, shit,” Mildred whispered before turning to the ville dweller who had

entered the chamber on hearing his companion’s blaster explode. He was looking

at the mewling, burned frame of his dead compatriot.

“Thanks for that,” Mildred said tersely, “but we’ve just really screwed things.

I should’ve been more alert, and that shot…no, never mind, it was the right

thing. Just pray I can get Doc disconnected and us out of here before the damn

thing blows.”

WALLACE MADE HIS WAY from his office to the armory. There was confusion all

around him, scared techs and whitecoats running around aimlessly, not knowing

what they were supposed to be doing. There were no orders anymore, and no regs

drilled into them that allowed for such a situation.

The Gen waited patiently for the elevator car to reach his level, stepped in and

pressed the button for the level he wanted. His mind had completely snapped, and

there was only one thing on that mind—the destruction of Murphy. The chaos all

around told him that without the regs, there was only confusion. Murphy had

trashed those regs, and all that remained was the court-martial and sentence. As

commanding officer, Wallace had already run the procedures in his mind, and

arrived at the only possible conclusion.

Death. Murphy had to die.

And if it took him, as well, what did that matter? He had failed in his position

and wasn’t worthy of living. He had let down his country and his forefathers.

There was no one to carry on the line. Somehow he’d never got around to it. So

why shouldn’t it all end with him?

The elevator arrived at the required level. The doors creaked open, and Wallace

stepped out. With a disdainful sniff he smelled the cordite and stench of death

in the air. He took in the corpses of his own sec men, chilled by the surprise

attack of the outsiders.

So much for Murphy’s tactics. This was the mark of a good leader?

Even more reason for him to die.

Wallace strode down the corridor, his bulky waddle lessened by the length of

strides. If he looked like a man in a hurry, then maybe that was because he had

an agenda that made it urgent. If he didn’t achieve his objective soon, then he

felt as though all reason would snap.

That’s if there was any reason left.

The sporadic bursts of blasterfire became louder as he walked through the

mayhem. The armory was up ahead. He could see two groups of outsiders clustered

around the entrance to the room, covering the corridor that led, at its

terminus, to the armory. The entry was protected by a barricade of boxes,

stacked to provide cover for the sec force holed up within.

Wallace strode through the outsiders as though they weren’t there, ignoring the

blasterfire that rang out around him.

“SIR, IT’S THE GEN.” Murphy, lurking at the back of the armory, didn’t at first