Brick stairs led to a door, and alongside was an inclined ramp going to a loading dock, the three big doors made of hinged steel planks banded together with rivets. Pulsating waves of ivy coated everything.
“Center door,” Mildred said.
Ryan headed for the middle as the twin 75 mm recoilless rifles spoke in unison, the shells detonating on the loading dock, blowing the sheet metal into rubbish. Mildred lowered the angle and fired again, blasting off the jagged metal strips that edged the entrance to the cellar. She knew their military tires were tough, but there was no sense asking for flats when speed was what they needed most. A few remaining strips of steel jutted or dangled from the smoking entranceway, but Ryan paid them no heed and plowed the juggernaut through. The headlights came on automatically as darkness engulfed the vehicle.
The inside of the building was a jungle, vines as thick as cables festooning the walls and ceiling. More bones, hundreds of them, thousands, littered the leafy floor, and fat cocoons hung in clusters like bunches of grapes. A curtain of ivy formed a solid barrier across the room effectively hiding anything beyond the expanse of moving greenery.
Dean poured the last canister of extra fuel into the pipe and screwed the cap on tight. “Done,” he announced.
Starring at the morass before them, something deep inside Ryan demanded that he lead the recce into the building. It took a force of will stronger than Ryan knew he had to counter that. He was the best driver, and already behind the wheel. It was his task to stay here, direct the rescue and protect Leviathan. What was the point of saving his lover if there was nothing for her to come back to but ivy-infested wreckage?
Ignorant of the man’s private struggle, J.B. took the M-4000 from the rack behind the driver’s seat and walked to the port-side hatch. “This going to be nasty, people,” he said softly. “We got to get hard, move fast.”
“John.” Mildred spoke with feeling, pausing in the work of sliding fresh shells into the 75 mm rifles. Their gaze met, but neither spoke. Sometime words weren’t enough.
A boom shook the entire structure, smoke appearing over the leafy rooftop. The plants went mad, ripping apart rubbish and smashing random debris.
“Go!” Ryan ordered, clearing a path ahead of the tank.
“Welcome to hell,” J.B. shouted, as he shoved open the door, firing the 12-gauge and the Uzi. Clumps of ivy were shredded into mulch, and he jumped to the soft floor.
Two quick shots, followed by silence.
“That’s six,” Dean said, joining the Armorer. “She’s out. But why two at once?” –
“To tell us she’s not going anywhere else.”
Exhaling sharply, the boy understood, his combat face returning, making him appear years older. “Check. We better move.”
“Nyah, I say thee, hold, Pericles,” Doc said, jumping to the ground, his arms full of fuel canisters. Dropping one at their feet, he tossed another deeper into the loading dock, and the next farther still.
“What’re you doing?” J.B. demanded to the elderly man. “Those are empty.”
“Aren’t they?” Dean asked, furious for missing so many.
Doc grinned, displaying his oddly perfect white teeth. “An, but how can the plants know that?”
Sure enough, the ivy on the ground wiggled away, exposing bare concrete. Doc reappeared with more empties, and the three friends threw them in as far as they could. The plants went mad, damaging themselves to get away. The few spilled drops of gasoline on the spouts of the aluminum cans were more than sufficient to show that these were the same type of deadly containers used before.
“I thought they would remember,” Doc said, going back inside. “I shall get more!”
The process was repeated and the curtain of green parted as if by magic. Beyond was a line of waiting humans. The men braced for an attack, but these weren’t guards. Some were naked, a few in filthy rags. The group stood there, men, a woman and an infant child no more than a newborn, their heads and limbs oddly placed. Using the binocs, Mildred distorted her face in vile disgust. Ryan grabbed his binocs and noted the raw terror in their rolling eyes, the flecks of foam on pale lips. And where clothing didn’t cover them, tendrils of the ivy were clearly visible lining their bodies, the roots embedded into the living flesh.