Strontium Swamp. James Axler

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СКАЧАТЬ mammals that looked a little like hybrids between cats and rabbits. The shapes moved over and across one another, starting to engage in combat as some sought to use the others for food.

      It was a battle that occurred every night, with some emerging winners and some never even realizing they were losers as their lives were snuffed out. Ryan realized that the creatures were moving in the direction of the camp, and whirled to look behind him. There were none to their rear, just an empty expanse of sound.

      â€œWhat the hell is going on?” he yelled at Jak, the chatter of the creatures, shrieks of those that were buying the farm, rising to a louder and louder level.

      Jak indicated the sand around them and gestured to the rear. “Figure we’re uphill, sand deeper where they nest. Mebbe telling us where there’s water—”

      â€œThat’s if they’re not headed for us because we’re a strange scent,” Ryan countered. He turned to the sleeping companions, but could see that the noise had penetrated their rest and they were beginning to waken.

      â€œRyan, what—Dark night! What the fuck is that?” J.B. yelled, sleep driven from his brain by the shock of the sight that greeted him.

      â€œThat’s trouble,” Ryan snapped. “Triple red, people. We need to get moving, and fast.”

      â€œShould take some out,” Jak commented. “Food what short of.”

      â€œYeah, and mebbe that’s how they see us,” Ryan told the albino youth. “They’re not much on their own, but there’s thousands of the fuckers, and we’re not a hundred percent.”

      Jak shrugged. “Yeah, guess so.” He pointed beyond where the initial mass of creatures had come from. In the distance, the sands were exploding as more nests of lizards, spiders, beetles and small mammals were stirring after the temporary hibernations caused by the storm.

      â€œOh my Lord, I never did like spiders, and I really don’t want a crash course in getting used to them now,” Mildred cracked as she helped Doc to his feet.

      â€œâ€™Pon my soul, it’s almost biblical,” the old man breathed as he took in the sight that greeted him. “The plagues came down upon the deserts and—”

      â€œYeah, some other time, Doc, or else you’re gonna be a lizard’s next meal,” Krysty snapped, cutting him off in midflow. “Why the hell are they all coming this way?”

      â€œMebbe we’re uphill, and they come up this way to search for food and water,” J.B. said as he gathered his bags.

      â€œMake more sense if we were downhill,” Mildred snapped. “Could be they’re all down there because it’s easier to make burrows. Maybe this moves more with the storms.”

      â€œIt doesn’t matter,” Ryan yelled. “Wake up, people, triple red. We need to outrun these little bastards before they overwhelm us. Just try to keep one step ahead of them.”

      The companions wasted no more words on speculation, but instead devoted their energy to outrunning the mass of desert life that was closing on them.

      Which wasn’t as easy as they could have hoped. They were still exhausted, having had no real chance to rest, and the sand was of an erratic depth and consistency, in some places being loose and clinging, in others relatively hard and compacted. For every step forward that seemed to buy them time and distance, there was another where a step meant sinking halfway up to the calf in the clinging sand, tugging insistently at them as they had to tug insistently to free themselves.

      Looking over his shoulder, Ryan could see that the creatures were gaining on them. He couldn’t tell if they were on an uphill gradient: certainly, the struggle suggested this, but with their fatigue and the erratic depths of the desert floor to impede them, it was almost impossible to tell. Doc was exhausted, and was already falling behind, despite the efforts of Mildred and J.B. to assist him.

      Then the worst thing that could happen in the circumstances occured—as Doc freed his left leg and took another step, J.B. moved over slightly to the old man’s left, took one step forward, and was swallowed up to the waist in a sudden cave-in. The sand, acting as a top crust at this point, was delicately balanced over a series of tunnels, and the Armorer had put his foot on a weak spot.

      He yelled in surprise and pain as his heel hit something hard and the jarring traveled up into his hip. Obviously, there was some kind of rock shelf under this part of the desert, and that was what he hit…but it wasn’t all.

      His yells grew as he was surrounded by a squealing, yelping mass of fur and teeth that scrabbled to get free of the collapse, using his body as purchase for their scrambled escape.

      â€œOh my God,” Mildred breathed, stunned into a standstill by what was unfolding before her. Even as she muttered those words, the creatures were swarming over the desert floor, scuttling around and over her feet, some of them being pitched up to cling for safety on her calves and thighs as the mass exodus caused fighting among the fleeing rodents.

      For that’s what they were—rats, with slick black fur and red pinpoint eyes, large teeth and sharp claws threatening in their mass.

      Suddenly, the reason for the insects, lizards and other small mammals to be heading in this direction became clear, as did the reason that this area had previously been deserted. The companions now found themselves caught in a territorial war, a struggle for supremacy between the rats and the other life-forms that inhabited the desert wastes. It may even have been a nightly occurrence: the rats raiding the nests of the lizards and reptiles for eggs, the insects falling prey to them, as did the other mammals, which would be vulnerable attacked en masse. On the other hand, there was the exodus of these creatures toward the rats’ warrens, still fighting one another but somehow united by a survival instinct that told them to band together against a common enemy.

      Their warren violated by the unfortunate step of the Armorer, the rats had fled in panic and were now charging headlong toward their foes, regardless of who was in the way. They swarmed over Doc, the mass of them catching him around the calves and shins, making his knees buckle under their force. He thrashed at them with his silver lion’s-head cane, figuring that he could beat them off more effectively using it as a club than drawing the blade contained within.

      The old man was wavering dangerously. If he went down, the rats would engulf him and he would be in danger of buying the farm under a hail of angry, disease-ridden rodents. Ryan, Jak and Krysty moved back toward where Doc struggled, and Mildred was trying desperately to help J.B. out of the hole made by his fall. She wasn’t helped by the fact that the sand had closed around the hole as soon as the rats had freed themselves, the grains pouring into the opening like water, trapping J.B. up to the thighs in its elusive, slippery grip, still pouring in so that it would cover him up to the waist, the weight of it sealing him in, trapping his legs under the surface, and preventing him from moving.

      Some of the rats had reached where the mammals, lizards and insects were swarming over the sand, and a skirmish had commenced between them. The night air was filled with squeals, howls and screams of pain as the rats hit their foes like a furry wall, lashing and biting at anything that came near.

      A rustling roar from behind them, the air rent with more squeals, made Ryan turn around. He swore softly at the sight that greeted his eye: there were more rats, those still left СКАЧАТЬ