Read Online Ashlyn Chronicles 1: 2287 A.D. by Glenn van Dyke, Renee van Dyke - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Glenn van Dyke, Renee van Dyke
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of his own hemorrhaging gums.
A single drop of a spider’s venom stole much more than its victim’s life. It stole their humanity, their ability to think and reason. In the days that led up to their death, the only thing the victim had was a hungering for flesh and blood.
Martinez, tears filling his eyes, spun out of Stratton’s grip and walked into the far corner of the room where he fell to his knees.
***
“Gena, detonate my energy core!” shouted Cole. The words were inhuman, gnarled into something barely recognizable. There was no mistake. The Cole they knew had spoken them—his last gift for his team.
The team then heard Gena’s reply. “Voice print not recognized.”
“Why is he trying to blow us all up?” asked Martinez.
“He isn’t. He’s trying to save us,” said Stratton. “He just isn’t thinking clearly.”
The next sounds they heard were nothing more than growls and inhuman screams that sent shivers down their spines.
“Gena, disconnect Cole from the team’s comm feed,” ordered Stratton, silencing Cole’s garbled screams. “All right, everyone. We need to regroup! Martinez, Moore, we need to find the admiral. I don’t know why Paris, Tomlinson, and Hitch aren’t here, but they must have gone to look for him. Moore, grab the bag of replacement energy cores. Doc, get ready. I think you’re going to have a few patients.”
They found Tomlinson, holding Paris in his arms, both of them collapsed on the third landing down, barely alive. The footprints on the stairs implied that they had been on their way up when they had lost power. Their breaths were shallow, their faces white and showing signs of frostbite.
“Replace their energy cores. It’ll give them heat and oxygen while we keep searching for Hitch and the admiral.”
They found Hitch at the mid-point of the sixth flight of stairs—not breathing.
After replacing Hitch’s core Stratton said, “Get her and the others upstairs to the doc. I’ll go look for Steven. If I need help, I’ll call.” Grabbing the last spare core from Moore, he continued down the stairs.
Stepping out upon the main floor, he found the room’s large size to be daunting, its darkness impenetrable. He dared not walk far from the stairs for fear of losing his bearings. Four minutes later Stratton was forced to replace his own frozen energy core with the spare he had brought along. Getting no reply to his calls, he grew resigned to what the silence inferred. “Dammit, Steven, where the hell are you!”
As his replacement core grew low on power, he reluctantly turned around to leave. Though Steven had the physical size and strength of Paul Bunyan and the determination of a Rottweiler, Stratton knew for a certainty that his friend was dead. The temperature was unbearably cold. Given the condition of the ruptured coolant lines, it had been an impossible task.
The trek back up the stairs was arduous, and his heavy heart made it feel longer than it was. It would be his responsibility to tell Steven’s wife and children what had happened. His heart broke for them.
Entering the room upstairs, Stratton found the team hard at work on Hitch. Martinez had removed her armor and torn her cotton undergarment open down the middle. Victor punched a long needle into her heart. A moment later, Victor called, “Clear!” Placing the paddles atop her bare chest, he shocked her heart. “Come-on, don’t you quit on me, Hitch. Don’t quit!”
Stratton set his helmet down on the floor as the others had done, giving the doctor light. Stratton then said three quick prayers, one for Cole, one for Hitch, and one for Steven.
Even as the fourth jolt of electricity raced through Hitch, Stratton looked around the room at the team. Paris sat next to Tomlinson and they held hands. They met Stratton’s gaze and gave him a small nod, a silent thank you for rescuing them. In their eyes, Stratton saw the sorrow they felt over the loss of their friend and
A single drop of a spider’s venom stole much more than its victim’s life. It stole their humanity, their ability to think and reason. In the days that led up to their death, the only thing the victim had was a hungering for flesh and blood.
Martinez, tears filling his eyes, spun out of Stratton’s grip and walked into the far corner of the room where he fell to his knees.
***
“Gena, detonate my energy core!” shouted Cole. The words were inhuman, gnarled into something barely recognizable. There was no mistake. The Cole they knew had spoken them—his last gift for his team.
The team then heard Gena’s reply. “Voice print not recognized.”
“Why is he trying to blow us all up?” asked Martinez.
“He isn’t. He’s trying to save us,” said Stratton. “He just isn’t thinking clearly.”
The next sounds they heard were nothing more than growls and inhuman screams that sent shivers down their spines.
“Gena, disconnect Cole from the team’s comm feed,” ordered Stratton, silencing Cole’s garbled screams. “All right, everyone. We need to regroup! Martinez, Moore, we need to find the admiral. I don’t know why Paris, Tomlinson, and Hitch aren’t here, but they must have gone to look for him. Moore, grab the bag of replacement energy cores. Doc, get ready. I think you’re going to have a few patients.”
They found Tomlinson, holding Paris in his arms, both of them collapsed on the third landing down, barely alive. The footprints on the stairs implied that they had been on their way up when they had lost power. Their breaths were shallow, their faces white and showing signs of frostbite.
“Replace their energy cores. It’ll give them heat and oxygen while we keep searching for Hitch and the admiral.”
They found Hitch at the mid-point of the sixth flight of stairs—not breathing.
After replacing Hitch’s core Stratton said, “Get her and the others upstairs to the doc. I’ll go look for Steven. If I need help, I’ll call.” Grabbing the last spare core from Moore, he continued down the stairs.
Stepping out upon the main floor, he found the room’s large size to be daunting, its darkness impenetrable. He dared not walk far from the stairs for fear of losing his bearings. Four minutes later Stratton was forced to replace his own frozen energy core with the spare he had brought along. Getting no reply to his calls, he grew resigned to what the silence inferred. “Dammit, Steven, where the hell are you!”
As his replacement core grew low on power, he reluctantly turned around to leave. Though Steven had the physical size and strength of Paul Bunyan and the determination of a Rottweiler, Stratton knew for a certainty that his friend was dead. The temperature was unbearably cold. Given the condition of the ruptured coolant lines, it had been an impossible task.
The trek back up the stairs was arduous, and his heavy heart made it feel longer than it was. It would be his responsibility to tell Steven’s wife and children what had happened. His heart broke for them.
Entering the room upstairs, Stratton found the team hard at work on Hitch. Martinez had removed her armor and torn her cotton undergarment open down the middle. Victor punched a long needle into her heart. A moment later, Victor called, “Clear!” Placing the paddles atop her bare chest, he shocked her heart. “Come-on, don’t you quit on me, Hitch. Don’t quit!”
Stratton set his helmet down on the floor as the others had done, giving the doctor light. Stratton then said three quick prayers, one for Cole, one for Hitch, and one for Steven.
Even as the fourth jolt of electricity raced through Hitch, Stratton looked around the room at the team. Paris sat next to Tomlinson and they held hands. They met Stratton’s gaze and gave him a small nod, a silent thank you for rescuing them. In their eyes, Stratton saw the sorrow they felt over the loss of their friend and
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