Read Online Z-Volution by David Sakmyster, Rick Chesler - Free Book Online
Authors: David Sakmyster, Rick Chesler
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about the other pterodactyl. It was still there—higher up, flapping its wings, keeping itself in place.
Remington adjusted his sights, about to fire a Sidewinder when he saw that the creature still had its weird payload gripped in its talons, that only the stowaways on its back had been released to fight—still ravaging the deck and locked in combat with more marines emerging from their stations.
Remington hesitated. Were they captives being extracted? Civilians? He couldn’t fire until he knew what he’d be killing.
And then there was his last order—stop the Cessna.
Damn. He took his finger off the trigger but flew by close, getting a better look at the beast.
He saw two things at once.
First, he was no expert in prehistoric biology, but the pterodactyl seemed to be more like a CGI monstrosity—all torn up in places, ribs and organs not only exposed but…chewed on. Its throat was slashed open and fleshy parts dangled from the open esophagus. Its neck and abdomen were clearly gnawed upon, with sizable chunks devoured.
Second, and the thing that made him regret not firing the missile, was that the humans in its talons—the humans that were dropped the instant he passed by—were in actuality far from anything that resembled human.
Whether or not they were even alive was questionable. Yet they squirmed, kicked and snarled, seemingly of their own accord. Then there were those eyes—hideously yellow, primordially vacant. They had fallen hundreds of feet, smashing to the deck—and instead of staying dead and broken, got right up and raced toward the nearest marines, those valiantly staving off other attackers.
Pissed now, Remington punched up the throttle. He banked hard around and zeroed in on the pterodactyl, which had turned tail and was flapping energetically, back toward that cargo vessel, probably for another payload, Remington guessed. He had to stop that.
He locked on and launched the heat-seeker.
Eat that, he thought with satisfaction as the missile roared free, leaving a glorious smoke trail. Resisting the urge to watch the attack to completion, he turned his attention back to the carrier deck, trying to locate targets he could strafe with the 20mm without hitting marines…but then he saw something that made absolutely no sense.
Marines attacking marines.
Without guns, the attackers moved with the same speed and ferocity as the uninfected marines, overwhelming their former comrades, falling upon them and… Dear God… eating them?
Still, Remington couldn’t fire. What was this? A plague that acted so quickly, turning humans into…
He couldn’t say it, couldn’t think, but he had to do something. Maybe there were others still below deck, in the tower, the engine rooms? Comm was down, but if they could seal off the lower doors…?
No, he saw on the end of his pass that the hangar doors were open and a few stragglers were taking cover, shooting from behind crates as their former mates turned and rushed toward the sound of gunfire.
He had to do something. Flying over the smoking wreckage of the tower and the shattered wings of planes on the runway, he was about to make another turn when his brain registered an alarm, something not quite right. Not right at all, in fact.
The pterodactyl he had shot through with machine gun fire should have been lying there dead among the wreckage. Instead, it was gone, it—
Reared up in his view, drenched in water, ascending from the waves where it had fallen into the ocean. Very much animated, very much hungry.
#
Remington swore and banked hard, executing a dizzying series of rolls to get out of the way, just barely escaping from the snapping jaws as the creature burst into his previous path. Regaining control and pitch just over the water, he banked and ascended, and through his window he caught a beautiful, if distracting sight: the other pterodactyl was swerving and looping madly, trying to shake the missile on its tail. A series of swirling
Remington adjusted his sights, about to fire a Sidewinder when he saw that the creature still had its weird payload gripped in its talons, that only the stowaways on its back had been released to fight—still ravaging the deck and locked in combat with more marines emerging from their stations.
Remington hesitated. Were they captives being extracted? Civilians? He couldn’t fire until he knew what he’d be killing.
And then there was his last order—stop the Cessna.
Damn. He took his finger off the trigger but flew by close, getting a better look at the beast.
He saw two things at once.
First, he was no expert in prehistoric biology, but the pterodactyl seemed to be more like a CGI monstrosity—all torn up in places, ribs and organs not only exposed but…chewed on. Its throat was slashed open and fleshy parts dangled from the open esophagus. Its neck and abdomen were clearly gnawed upon, with sizable chunks devoured.
Second, and the thing that made him regret not firing the missile, was that the humans in its talons—the humans that were dropped the instant he passed by—were in actuality far from anything that resembled human.
Whether or not they were even alive was questionable. Yet they squirmed, kicked and snarled, seemingly of their own accord. Then there were those eyes—hideously yellow, primordially vacant. They had fallen hundreds of feet, smashing to the deck—and instead of staying dead and broken, got right up and raced toward the nearest marines, those valiantly staving off other attackers.
Pissed now, Remington punched up the throttle. He banked hard around and zeroed in on the pterodactyl, which had turned tail and was flapping energetically, back toward that cargo vessel, probably for another payload, Remington guessed. He had to stop that.
He locked on and launched the heat-seeker.
Eat that, he thought with satisfaction as the missile roared free, leaving a glorious smoke trail. Resisting the urge to watch the attack to completion, he turned his attention back to the carrier deck, trying to locate targets he could strafe with the 20mm without hitting marines…but then he saw something that made absolutely no sense.
Marines attacking marines.
Without guns, the attackers moved with the same speed and ferocity as the uninfected marines, overwhelming their former comrades, falling upon them and… Dear God… eating them?
Still, Remington couldn’t fire. What was this? A plague that acted so quickly, turning humans into…
He couldn’t say it, couldn’t think, but he had to do something. Maybe there were others still below deck, in the tower, the engine rooms? Comm was down, but if they could seal off the lower doors…?
No, he saw on the end of his pass that the hangar doors were open and a few stragglers were taking cover, shooting from behind crates as their former mates turned and rushed toward the sound of gunfire.
He had to do something. Flying over the smoking wreckage of the tower and the shattered wings of planes on the runway, he was about to make another turn when his brain registered an alarm, something not quite right. Not right at all, in fact.
The pterodactyl he had shot through with machine gun fire should have been lying there dead among the wreckage. Instead, it was gone, it—
Reared up in his view, drenched in water, ascending from the waves where it had fallen into the ocean. Very much animated, very much hungry.
#
Remington swore and banked hard, executing a dizzying series of rolls to get out of the way, just barely escaping from the snapping jaws as the creature burst into his previous path. Regaining control and pitch just over the water, he banked and ascended, and through his window he caught a beautiful, if distracting sight: the other pterodactyl was swerving and looping madly, trying to shake the missile on its tail. A series of swirling
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