Age of Monsters John Schneider (digital book reader TXT) 📖

antiseptic, back-lit white.

The corridor led past several long, aquarium-style windows, looking into what appeared to be surgery units.

Ariel made another observation.

“There are no bones,” she said.

Terry peered through the aquarium glass – the lights inside were already on.

Jonah found himself wondering if they were motion-activated as well.

Which would suggest the room had been recently vacated.

He listened for scattering feet.

Jonah was reminded of the Mary Celeste – one of those old naval ghost-stories – a ship that had been found floating deserted – fully-supplied with all its cargo – purportedly with food on the table and the fire still burning in the furnace – just no crew.  With no clear explanation, the story had naturally inspired legends of sea-monsters.

Of course, they didn't need 'legends' anymore, did they?

The med-unit was also absent of the general disarray below decks – it remained clean and orderly.

And as he looked closer, Jonah saw the counter along the back wall was stacked with vials of liquid, lined in rows, almost like an assembly line.

The liquid inside glowed emerald green.

“Now, what the hell are those?” Terry asked.  “Plutonium-shooters?”

Jonah, however, couldn't help but make the obvious connection.

Glowing green eyes.

“You know,” Ariel said, backing away from the window, “I'm kind of not wanting to be here anymore.”

They all looked to Naomi.

She glanced up – the control tower was two decks ahead.  She wasn't stopping now.

“You are under no obligation to follow,” she told them.

Without waiting, she turned, climbing the stair-steps to the next deck.

Not wanting to be there anymore himself, Jonah, nevertheless, began climbing up after her.  Ariel took a resigned breath before following.

Terry stood another moment at the window, frowning in at the green glowing vials, before turning to catch-up.

As in the infirmary below, there were lights already on in the radio room just ahead.

This time, they could hear voices.

One of them was broken by static and carried loudly down the hall – rising and desperate.

“.... Sir..., this is Major Tom Corbett... In he Sky... repeat, please... come in...”

The door ahead was ajar – it looked as if it had been jury-rigged.

Upper control-decks on a Navy destroyer were not supposed to be easily accessible – that was why you couldn't get there from the main deck.

Naomi touched her hand on the door, pausing for just a second, summoning her nerve.  She glanced quickly to Jonah, who was little help – he shrugged helplessly.

Terry and Ariel were no better – Ariel was shaking her head in a silent 'No'.

Naomi pushed open the door.

The radio-room was like the med-chamber – a functioning unit, fully powered.

Jonah could see radar blips, sonar, and every screen active.

That desperate voice burst in again over the radio.

“Sir!  Please, come in!”

And standing on the desks and chairs – over a dozen of them, stationed at each receiver, and at every microphone – Otto spoke aloud in a barking, commanding voice:

“This is General Nathan Rhodes.  Command override!”

The desperate, broken voice blared back.  “Sir, the coordinates are wiped... must abort...”

As one, the Ottos turned to the intruders at the door.

And then they spoke – all in one voice together – like several speakers playing the same song all at once.

“Launch,” the voice said.

The myna-bird, Jonah thought, didn't just mindlessly repeat sounds – they understood contextual meaning – that was why they asked for a cracker.

This was a bit more than just contextual understanding.

The Otto standing at the desk hissed aloud, flaring its claws.  A moment later, the rest responded in tandem.

Naomi blinked, jerking her head as if catching a whiff of smelling salts.  For a second, she wobbled on her feet.  Jonah reached to steady her, even as Ariel seemed to stagger as well.

Jonah and Terry exchanged shrugs, feeling nothing.

The little lizards hissed.

Naomi blinked, as if having been slapped.

“Otto,” Ariel said, her voice a whisper, shaking her head.  “All along.”

“Okay,” Terry said, shrugging her off his shoulder, “Fuck this.”

He kicked the door open and started shooting.

The shotgun blasts were explosions in the closed space.  The first of the Ottos ducked under the desktop, while the others scattered.

But a moment later, they hopped back onto the counter.

The first – the one that had spoken into the microphone – was now holding what looked like a small pneumatic injector-needle – the sort of air-gun used to inject livestock when pressed against the animal's hide.

Like the vials in the med-unit, the loaded chamber was full of liquid that glowed emerald green.

The lizard turned to its fellow and pressed the needle up against its scaly, proto-feathered hide.

The second little beast squawked as the vial emptied its full contents into the little creature's bloodstream.

The other Ottos scattered as the injected animal screamed.

It was a horrible, lingering sound – worse than a shot rabbit – both Naomi and Ariel faded back, holding their hands to their ears.

The creature writhed and twisted off the desk, falling to the floor...

… even as it began to grow.

The warbling shriek reached a siren-pitch – whatever was happening, it looked like it hurt.

In the space of a few time-lapsed seconds, the cat-sized beast was now as large as a small dog.

By happenstance, the hooked sickle-claw was also now accordingly more formidable.

The first Otto injected a second dose into another of its fellows.  And then another – each injection with a soft 'puft'.

Naomi was backing towards the stairs.

“We've got to get out of here.”

The other two injected beasts toppled to the floor, their haranguing warbles rising in pitch.

But the first had gained its feet and stood, snarling up at them, its eyes already glowing green and mad.

Claws outstretched, it leaped to attack.

Chapter 33

The thing tore