Atlantis: chapter 5
Chapter 5! You're a super genius!
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Chapter V: Close Quarters
Tom dropped up, close behind Matt. No one saw him, and it would be more fun to see Matt whirl in surprise than just calling out his name. He crept on top of a partially melted tank, and then sprang down next to Matt, who promptly drew his knife.
Matt grabbed unsuccessfully at a fistful of clothing on Tom's chest and instead came into contact with the hard metal shell. Instead he reached higher and grabbed Tom's neck, having him before Tom could blink. He laughed aloud, raising his hands in the universal, "Whoa, Nelly, take it easy" gesture.
Matt's face lit up as he recognized his friend from grade school. "Nice time to show."
"Hey, yeah, we can catch up later, but right now we're in danger of being slashed and shot at so I think we'll leave this for another time." Tom said hurriedly.
“Right! We need to airlift you and any survivors out of here, and transfer you to Research Facility 2.” Matt jumped at the reminder.
“Okay, umm, problem.” Tom answered.
“What is it?” Matt groaned.
“There are probably more survivors, but we haven't found them yet.”
"Just couldn't do it without me, eh? Whatever. Lets get to work."
"Agreed. And no, just FYI, I just got finished kicking some native butt when you so timely arrived after all the fighting."
"Aw, come on! It was just a joke. Can't you let me have my fantasies?" Matt asked comically.
"Whatever. Come on, we're wasting time."
“You heard the man! I want a sweep of the entire complex! Scan for any signs of life, friendly or otherwise. Sanders, Conners, take up take your squads and set up a defensive perimeter! Fire teams Alpha and Charlie, take buildings D and E. Delta, Echo, Bravo, buildings B and C. Tom and I will take building A."
"West, get whatever security systems you can up and running." Tom ordered.
"Roger that. Most of them have been disabled and need the security code, which only the top brass know by the way, but I'll run some programs, see what I can do. If the good doctor could come down and help, that'd be appreciated." West acknowledged.
"On my way now." Stephens answered, doing his best to sound official and military.
"Alright, ladies, move out! We're not paid to stand and look cool!" Matt barked.
With that, the American soldiers sprang into action. Tom hurried off with Matt, toting his SCAR-H assault rifle.
It felt good to be back with his old friend, but that also meant that things were really serious. He, Matt, and two of their other friends, Scarlett Miller and Holly Dayne, were only brought together when the most serious of problems were at hand. This was fairly disturbing to anybody who knew that, as was the fact that Tom was the youngest of all of them at 18, Matt and Scarlett being 19, and Holly being 20, yet he was the best marksman, although Holly was the strongest. Matt and Scarlett were the fastest. Eventually, Tom would become the most skilled psychologically. Evidently, the expected loss of an entire Research Facility counted as a big problem.
"So, Tom, what's happened? You look... different.”
“Long story.”
“Tell me.” And so Tom proceeded to tell Matt all that had happened since the big battle with Queen Rex, including the fact that Queen Rex was almost entirely dead, why he now had Velociraptor DNA mixed with his, how it had effected him, the ensuing fight with all the Atlantians, Dinosaurs, and Iraqis, the tracer he put on the V-22 Osprey Heliplane, his spectacular fall from the roof, his wonder of how he wasn't hurt, his duel with the two Atlantians, and then finally, meeting Matt.
“Some story.” Matt said as they entered the building.
The interior/exterior blast door required an access code to open, and Tom's scrambled brain required a moment to remember the code.
He entered: SPARTANSHIELD.
The codes were all symbolic, but most of the time some spy spook from the Warfare Intelligence Office (WIO) came up with some random name he happened to think was cute.
Matt entered first, gun held at the ready. Always the tall, dark, and prepared.
His rifle swept the blood-soaked interior with characteristic steadiness. Nothing could faze Matt. Not even the bloody interior of a personnel barracks in an American aggressive research and development facility under the command of a now-probably-dead yet highly-respected-and-brutal commander.
Building A was basically the Facility's barracks, although a 'nice' one for military uses. Tom entered and found himself in another security checkpoint. The whole room smelled of death. The light fixture attached to the ceiling was damaged enough for blue sparks to be shooting out of it, and the walls had claw marks scraped like geometric patterns in the concrete walls. That wasn't good.
The autogun, which normally hung from the ceiling, was now at Matt's feet, red, yellow, blue, green wires twisted and contorted. More sparks. Autoguns were actually just cameras armed for combat. Not very big, but the one camera could pack a punch with the help of it's attached dual 9mm machine guns protruding from both sides. And it was now on the ground, useless. What had been through here? Had the Raptors alone managed to do that?
Something much bigger than a Raptor had come through. Tom didn't know what yet, but he wasn't afraid. Just a little nervous.
However, that didn't mean he had to go through a large-dinosaur-infested building without a proper means to take it down.
"Hey West, you got the combination to the Lindstrat locker down here?" Tom asked over the comm, glancing at a gun locker securely fastened with the words, "Lindstrat Air Rifle" painted at the top.
"Gimme a minute and I will. I'm still working on getting the auto defense mainframe up. Um... try 3214?"
Matt walked over to the lockers and punched in the code while Tom covered the door. The locker opened and Matt glanced inside, then at Tom.
"These are the Lindstrats I've heard so much about?" Matt asked in mock incredulousy.
"Yeah. Grab the handguns. The rifles were made for longer range combat. We'll need them to take out anything larger than the Raptors."
"I hear ya." Matt grabbed two of the modified dart guns, and then pulled open a lower drawer to the ammo.
The Lindstrats were actually just dart guns designated for military use, but what they shot out was special. The Lindstrats, in normal procedure, shot darts with a concave hollow in the center, to be filled with whatever poison or sleeper mixture required. The handguns were made to shoot up to 15 yards. The rifles were tested at 250 yards, but in the hands of a gifted marksman they could push it to 350. However, that was more range then they'd need, and the rifles form of ammo came in four-shot tubes that entered and ejected out the back of the stock. The handguns could shoot 10 darts.
Matt tossed Tom a Lindstrat and two clips of ammo. If they needed more, they were dead anyways.
"Unlocking the firearm racks... now. They should be open."
Tom strode over to the racks while Matt covered him and selected a particularly nasty-looking PSD sub machine gun/assault rifle hybrid in favor of his bulky, overpowered SCAR-H.
Tom tossed one to Matt and several magazines of ammo.
"West? Status on the defense system?" Matt asked.
"Cameras are up and working but the machine guns require some double secret access code to operate, I'll see what I can do. I have access to the computer locks on most of the blast doors. Next room is the atrium assembly area. Looks pretty clear. The two rows of stairs on either side of the room lead up to a second balcony, and from their is where all the bunks are housed. Through the double doors their is the crew mess, and it branches off on either side to the gym and rec. facilities. Uploading a tactical map to your HUD. Got a system check running for survivors in the building. I'll drop a NAV marker if I see one."
"Good work." Matt said. "Keep it up. Expect regular 10 minute check-ins."
"Run a diagnostics and try to find out why the Raptors are all over this place and how they got out." Tom added. "I know they have those genetic fail-safe collars. See if you can't run a few into the ground."
"Right. You should get moving." West agreed.
"Roger that. Over and out." Matt cut the comm.
With a slight nod from Tom, Matt pressed the 'open' control for the blast door, and it slid open with a hiss of compressed air.
The atrium was all at once large and small. Large because the higher, vaulted ceiling gave the illusion of immense space, and then small when you realized all it really was was a wide, open reception area with a desk at one end, normally staffed by a young secretary with various sofas and recliners in a semi circle around it. Bookshelves lined the walls, but they were more for show than anything. The main library in the building was housed towards the back of the facility, and these shelves just contained some of the more famous novels throughout time, elegant, hand-written, in beautiful, scrawling calligraphy. A book or two was shredded up here and there, a result of the ravenous, maybe-not-so-vicious-or-bloodthirsty Raptor pack that had recently come through. Smallish, chicken sized Compsognathus scavengers roamed around the room, looking for any deserted carcasses that the Raptors had left behind.
Tom frowned. He didn't remember them being on the list of DNA cloning. Odd.
Tom scanned around, doing a quick threat analysis. Besides the Compys, nothing else really moved in the room. There was one Raptor in the corner, moping around. It had slash marks all over it's body, as if the other Raptors had attacked it. It looked rather miserable and melancholy, and Tom felt a momentary pang of sympathy before he remembered what these creatures could do to him... had done to his soldiers. His soldiers.
Unknowingly, Tom's claws slid out, and he snarled rather more savagely than he would have earlier. Tom leveled his PSD at the beast and laid out an accurate and devastating spread of leaden, Teflon coated projectiles.
The Raptor howled in agony as bullets tore through flesh.
It collapsed head-first onto the floor with a dull, satisfying thunk.
Tom ejected the spent clip and slapped a new one into the receiver, pulled back the cocking lever, and waited for more enemy contacts to reveal themselves, breathing heavily with his gun leveled.
Tom wondered at his new behavior. Normally, he wouldn't have shot that Raptor. What made him do so now?
"Let's move up to the barracks. Obviously there's nothing else in this area, and we'll get the other rooms in a sec." Matt suggested.
"Agreed." Matt lead the way up the staircase, his carbine sweeping the new terrain in long, dramatic turns.
Tom glanced at his tacmap and saw himself as a little green blip, steadily climbing the stairs to the barracks level, which was arranged around the balcony in a full circle. On the ceiling in between every barracks door, cameras swept the area, searching for threats, and Tom wished for the thousandth time that the machine gun functions of the autoguns were operational.
There were twelve barracks rooms, and comically, each of them had a 'mascot' that they got their squad names from. There was an Orca barracks, a Black Hawk, a Raptor, ironically enough, and many others. Each specialized in a different form of combat. Each Facility had a division of each separate battalion. And Tom would have to check them all. Hopefully he'd pick up a few helpers along the way...
"West. Upload the feed of the security cam in Orca barracks to my HUD. Now."
"Yes sir. Bringing it up... Gods above. Here you are sir. All yours." West choked out.
Tom put his back to the solid Titanium-A battle armored door and held up his fist, the signal for 'wait'. Matt gave an almost imperceptible nod.
The cam feed came into Tom's HUD.
Raptors were feeding, at least twenty of them. Dead carcasses lay everywhere, hanging over bunk beads, slumped across furniture, lying in dismembered heaps on the ground, everywhere. The floor was awash with ruby red blood. A Raptor came by the camera and sniffed it curiously. It moved on after a moment.
"Ideas?" Matt asked.
"Yeah. One. It'll never work." Tom said optimistically. Using the video feed as his guide, Tom delved deep within himself, searching for that familiar burn feeling he got when he coursed with energy, like when he was about to involuntarily shift; the soldiers slang for manipulating objects with telekenesis or some other kenesis power. He closed his eyes in order to find it... there. Some forgotten section of his brain where regular humans no longer needed to use...
Hmm. Thats weird. Tom thought. I don't remember the thing feeling this strong. as waves of blue sapphire energy rippled through him. How did he know it was blue? No idea. It just felt blue.
Tom sort of... pushed the energy through the door, and manipulated it around one of the bunks in the barracks. The energy followed his thoughts, bending to his will.
The other curled around the bedpost, grabbing a firm hold, and then:
Tom pulled the bed over, crushing three Raptors that were underneath it, and catching the one on top with one of the posts; its legs caught beneath the bed but the rest of its body fine.
Matt got the idea and started throwing the boxes around, crushing Raptors against walls, knocking them senseless, pinning them to the ground. Tom pulled over another bed, getting more Raptors. The remaining seven or so ducked back, heads lowered, searching for cover.
One of them gnashed his teeth, and then ran towards the door.
Tom had a moment to think, That's not part of the plan-, and then the Raptor was out the door, being closely followed by his six buddies.
Matt spun and fired, catching two in a deadly blast of bullets. The first one was dead, the second badly wounded. That left four still playing the game.
Tom pushed out with the other, crushing a Raptors head into the door frame and practically blocking two other Raptors still in. That just left the leader-
The Raptor growled a low, terrifying growl, surprisingly close to Tom's ear. He dared not turn around for fear of being gored and gutted.
The Raptor's head slowly moved forward, now level with Tom's, practically on his shoulder. Tom glanced at it in his peripheral vision. Scary as crap. Dark. Lethal.
"Anyone have air freshener around here?" Tom asked, pinching his nostrils closed and waving his other hand in front of his face. "Cause this guy stinks!" The Raptor cocked its head quizzically, puzzled at the distinct lack of fear.
It growled again, but it was a more uncertain, half-hearted growl than anything, a desperate attempt at control.
"Yeah. Hi." Matt answered, and poured half his clip into the creature at point blank range.
It fell into the ground, thrashing madly.
Matt threw the spent clip into the beast and spit on it, then slammed a new clip into the gun.
Tom punched fists with Matt, and then he looked around at the blood on the floor. It really did smell.
"Now we're even." Matt said to Tom.
"How so?" Tom asked.
"This is the..." Matt stopped and counted on his fingers, "Sixth time I've saved you, and you've saved me six times as well. We're even." Matt said.
"Slate's clean." Tom said.
Matt chuckled.
Tom grinned at Matt, looking him full in the face. Then something blurry and out of focus moved - behind Matt.
Tom leveled his carbine, and Matt slowly turned around to face whatever it was that was moving.
"Hmm. Not good." Tom predicted cooly.
"Nope. Not good at all." Matt agreed.
"Uh, West, you getting this?" Tom asked, pointing his helmet cam at the other barracks doors, which now had Raptors, tons and tons of Raptors pouring out like locusts. At least fifty. No, seventy? Seventy Raptors, maybe closer to eighty or a hundred. Two men. Not exactly great odds even when you had Tom and Matt. A lone Raptor, sure, but a hundred, no way. Not even the best of soldiers could deal with those odds, but not because of a lack of skill. That many didn't have to use tactics or clever attacks... they could just drown them in a sea of flesh. Biting, scratching, clawing flesh.
Matt started hyperventilating, supercharging his body with oxygen and flooding his brain with thought-powering food. He searched around desperately for an idea. And got nothing.
Tom tried to think of something, too. But there was just no way. No, wait. That wasn't right. When something wasn't possible, you weren't thinking the correct way. Something his old drill instructors had taught him. He hoped they were right.
Suddenly an idea occurred.
"West! Get the auto defense mainframe up. NOW!!" He yelled into the whisper sensitive mike.
"Alright, I'm working as fast as I can-"
"Work faster." Matt said. "Don't talk, work." Switching off his comm, Matt asked Tom, "So what now? West won't get the mainframe up in time, not unless a miracle comes our way."
"We don't need a miracle. But I can try something." Tom answered.
Tom walked forward, slightly in front of Matt. The staircase was directly in front of him. The milling cloud of Raptors poured forward as one. Tom kept his cool and said loudly but calmly, "Stop. Come no further." Tom's command resonated curiously throughout the upper floor, but Matt didn't realize what had happened until the entire pack of Raptors ground to a halt, and if Raptors could show confusion as a facial expression, they sure were now.
Tom had sent a broadcast thought out to the Raptors. It didn't penetrate their mental barriers, but it did give a good knocking on them.
Tom stood poised at the ready, perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet, ready for anything. Matt carefully walked over to Tom as the Raptors milled about in confusion.
"Good plan." Matt whispered tersely.
"Isn't it?" Tom whispered back just as quietly.
"West? Status." Tom asked calmly.
"Almost there. Just a few more lines. Aww...!" West cursed.
"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that's not good news." Matt guessed.
"I've almost gotten through the security encryption but I need someone to manually access the mainframe controls to get them started! From there I can access the security countermeasures and feed a worm through the program to get the activation code." West chattered frantically all in one breath. "In layman's terms, you need to flick the big override switch on the computer so I can turn the security on!"
"Where's the switch?" Tom asked calmly, in direct contrast to West's panicking voice.
"I don't know. There should be one around the atrium but I'm not sure. You need to find it, trip the switch, and stay on station so I can give you the codes. Then you press the big red security breech button."
"Wherever it is, we need to hurry. Ugly here is taking charge." Matt said, pointing at one of the Raptors. It was standing on top of a median in front of one of the barracks. It growled and coughed in its guttural language like communication system. And whatever it was telling the other Raptors, it wasn't good, because most of them turned and eyed Matt and Tom hungrily.
"Alright, we need to move. Down the stairs!" Matt ordered. "They're coming out of it!"
Tom covered Matt with his carbine while he descended the staircase. As Matt reached the center step that branched off into two separate staircases, he turned to Tom.
"You know this place better than me. Find the switch. I'll cover you."
"Roger that. But be careful." Tom stressed.
No kidding, Matt thought to himself as he turned a wary eye on the approaching packs.
One of the braver Raptors came up, not five feet from Matt. Matt started shuffling sideways. If he fired into that one, the rest would be angry. They wouldn't wait to play with their food. They'd just slice it to bits. He had to bide for time.
The Raptors knew they were in control and they liked it. The Raptor started following Matt, then lashed out all of a sudden without a warning. Matt managed to sidestep in time, and he slashed down with his knife without thinking. It only nicked the Raptor, but as it cried out in pain in the alarm, it sent a clear message. Matt would fight back till the end.
Meanwhile, Tom was hurriedly searching the room for the button. There were half a dozen reception desks, and it could be under any of them. Their was also a console in the middle of the room that Tom had no idea what it was for. He tried the console first, because it was central and obvious. The machine booted up sluggishly, and then Tom was looking at a digital library find machine, designed to find you the exact shelf a book was located on but otherwise useless.
Tom banged his fist on the machine in a rare sign of frustration, then sprinted over to the desks to begin his rapid and hasty search.
Matt continued backing up towards Tom, firing bursts of three as he went. The Raptors were in no hurry to shred him to pieces.
Finally Matt stopped to reload, and in the lapse of gunfire a Raptor lunged forward.
Matt brought around the butt of his gun; he had been expecting an attack. The Raptor dodged the attack and dove under Matt's defenses. As it came back up, it clamped down on Matt's arm, causing him to cry out in pain.
"Get - off - me!" Matt ground out, smacking the Raptor in the snout with each word. Finally, Matt opened up the other and lashed out with a bit of extra energy. The Raptor spun away reeling as the energy impacted against its head.
"I could use some help over here." Matt called calmly.
"Coming." Tom called back.
Tom found the control under the desk. West called out in his ear without prompting, "That's it! Flick the cover and plug in the key."
"What key?"
West cursed. "There's a security activation key that you need to plug in! It won't work without the key!!"
"You never said anything about a key!" Tom shouted. Tom hardly ever shouted, but when he did you knew to get out of his way and do whatever he was asking.
"I am now!" West yelled back. "It's probably in the drawer or something." West said, but without conviction. "Check-"
"Hang on..." Tom said, then reached over and emptied his clip into the swarming hoard of Raptors. Reloading, he twisted and spewed the new clip along the railing, making all the Raptors lining the the edge jump back and causing a massive traffic jam among the jostling army.
Tom slammed a new one in the receiver, then said, "I'll get back to you."
Matt called out, "I could use some help over here."
Tom called back, "It's coming."
Tom knew where the key was. Why would his Karma make him search the desk when instead he could search one of six dead bodies lying in mangled heaps about the room? One of them had to be the administrator.
Let's see, six bodies. Tom thought. Lucky contestants one, two, and three are wearing soldier's uniforms. Four and five are wearing security. They might have it. Six is wearing... officer's uniform. There we go. She's got to have it.
Tom glanced back over at Matt, who was sending tendrils of energy to randomly snap the neck of some Raptor at the front of the group while emptying clip after clip of ammunition straight point-blank into the beasts with one hand, and simultaneously slashing and stabbing with his wicked (name of knife?). Tom gave a helping hand, emptying his last clip of ammunition from his gun. Not good. He still had his backup Glock 8 sidearm, but what use was that? He quickly dove down to the ground and frantically began searching the body of the dead officer, not sparing any time to preserve her modesty. Why bother? She was dead. And he would be if he didn't hurry.
The Raptor vaulted high in the air, way above Matt's head. Matt stumbled back in consternation; how could any creature jump that high?!?
The Raptor kicked out with its powerful leg as it came down in a blow that would have shredded a man's chest along with caving in his sternum and breaking more than half his ribs. But Matt was different, and he had the advantage of a full set of Mk. III TBA (Tactical Battle Armor), which sported a semi-hardened bullet-and-shrapnel proof outer shell and a hydro-static pressure supporting gel in between a layer of a survival heating/cooling crystalline system. The claw still sent him reeling and tore up the shell, but nothing was sliced internally. However, Matt was now on sitting on his combat hardened, battle armor supported rump, with his head on the ground and legs spread eagled.
The Raptor pounced, and suddenly Matt was face-to-face with a beast that lived over 80 million years ago, and scientifically wasn't supposed to be here that day. And yet here it was, its weight resting on Matt's damaged armor, its claws digging into his his form-fitting combat shirt he always wore under his armor.
This is it. Matt thought. I'm dead. Well, if he was going to die, he was taking this one with him.
Tom found the key in the last pocket he searched. Typical. His Karma just wouldn't allow it to show up in the first one, would it?
No, it dragged out his search until the very end.
But now he had the key. It was a plastic card about the length of his palm, and a little less wide. He grabbed it and ran at top speed back to the control panel. He reached out and inserted the key. A glowing green screen asked him if he wanted to activate the security measures, and he jabbed the 'YES' console only about a thousand times.
Matt kicked up with his legs, catching the Raptor in its fatty tissue towards the rear. The Raptor was thrown head-over-heels forwards, crying out in alarm as Matt levered it away. It landed in a heap-
-three feet away. The next one came up as Matt was struggling to get to his feet, but Matt drove out with a blast of fire, sending the beast into furious jumps and dashes before it crashed, dead, to the ground. Yet another came up, and Matt rolled away to his right. As the creature's claws stuck into the tile, Matt rolled onto his knees, un-clipping his sidearm holstered to his hip as he did so. Not waiting to check his aim, Matt fired until the clip ran dry. But before he could do so much as stand, a Raptor came out of the herd and tackled him from behind. Matt went sprawling on the floor, struggling with all his might to get back on his feet, but to no avail. His armor was hanging off of him in rags now. It just wasn't meant to take this kind of beating. Nor was he.
The Raptor brought down it's foot. Or tried to. When it's claw was an inch away from Matt's neck, it was blasted off of him by a high caliber incendiary and magnetically charged slug that was fired from the security turret fixed above the entry door to the atrium. The round was meant as a precaution in case some larger dino got into the facility. It could blast apart just about anything, and the over-powered round took the Raptor directly in it's chest. It took away half of it, too, and continued straight on its linear path; into the next unlucky, clueless Raptor directly behind the first. The round took off this Raptor's head, still traveling on into the next one, taking off it's right leg, and struggled farther at a dissipated rate. Unfortunately, its path was now so low that the next Raptor only got caught in the foot before the round drove partway into the floor.
Even with the loss of their comrades, their were still close on eighty or so Raptors, and all pressed forward at once onto Matt. The Incendiary launcher took five seconds to recharge after each shot. However, there were two more turrets mounted on swivel platforms that could strafe in a linear horizontal direction around the room on rotational belts that circled the upper barracks platforms. And these turrets were good old fashioned chain guns that fired 12mm APSP (Anti-Personnel Soft Projectile) rounds. The soft projectiles meant that the rather large bullet deformed when it hit the target, spreading out and flattening to cause maximum internal damage. The bullet would enter through a small hole it drilled itself in the front, and exit, if at all, with a large, gaping chunk of your back missing.
The chain guns strafed the crowd of Raptors, stitching holes in flesh and tile. But there were tons of them, and only two guns, plus the Incendiary launcher that tore the crap out of three or more Raptors every five seconds. The hoard started dissapating, spreading out to the corners of the rooms to escape the lethal open center.
Meanwhile, Matt was still faltering where the Raptors had left him, hoping his FOF (Friend or Foe) tag didn't malfunction and cause the turrets to count him as an enemy.
Suddenly Tom was there, lifting Matt by his shoulder to his feet. They hobbled out the door from the atrium, continuing their path of search and rescue. They also had to get out of their while the Raptors were distracted by the turrets.
But their 'luck' must have run out. Just as Tom dragged Matt out the door, a Raptor turned its head eerily towards them. It cough-barked a warning to its team, and a dozen more heads swung around to watch them go.
One of the Raptors coughed another order, and all the remaining twenty Raptors rushed to follow the fleeing soldiers. Tom hooked one hand under Matt's armpit and with the other held his carbine, firing one handed bursts into the substantially lessened crowd.
The doors clanged shut and Tom unceremoniously draped Matt over his shoulders, then sprinted off down the hallway, doors on either side containing storage, conference, briefing, and debriefing rooms, one an armory, and one a kitchen/Mess Hall facility. The barracks facilities were shaped like a large letter 'I', with a little nub at each end that was the security checkpoint and doorway. The First horizontal line was the atrium and barracks rooms, with the long, vertical part being the hallway with the other rooms branching off of it. The second horizontal line was the gym and rec. center. It contained all sorts of weights and equipment to stretch and tone almost every muscle of the body.
The gym also had a large in-door heated pool for exercising and relaxation, but Tom spent most of the time here at the shooting range or in his cot. The rec. center housed a communal commons room in the center, with movie theaters displaying the latest flicks and movies. There was also a computer interface station to send e-mails and voice chat with home. In one corner was a sparring rink, and a Vegas-style games room ran off to the side.
No time to look at the familiar scene. Tom dragged Matt into a large, walk-in storage, propping a chair against the handle to prevent it from turning. Even in the highest of tech, statest of the state of the art facilities with automatic utility in the restrooms and sliding automatic doors and just about every other kind of automatic technology thing in the world, they still had low-grade old fashioned handles on the utility closets. Lucky for him. Assuming that Raptors could even figure out how to turn the handle to open the door. They probably could, so why take the chance?
Tom set Matt down on the far side of the closet on a utility table, leaning against a wall. Matt made sure his carbine was fully loaded. With his last clip.
Tom saw the dilemma and dropped the rest of his clips in a pile next to Matt after loading his carbine with a fresh one. Now Matt had five clips total and Tom had one. Matt was too tired to argue, so he sat stiffly against the wall like a wood dummy holding a gun. Tom arranged three aluminum utility tables around Matt in a protective barricade. Then he leaped the barricade and removed the chair from the door.
"I'll be back for you." Tom said. Matt nodded weakly. Tom hesitated with his hand on the door. Was he seriously about to open the only barrier between himself and a group of bloodthirsty, pissed off Raptors? Was he letting go of sanity? Why shouldn't he simply wait it out with Matt in the closet and call for backup? Let it be their problem. Not his. Anyone's but his. But he was the only one around, the other squads probably had their hands as full or fuller than his, and it would take them too long. Besides, he needed more ammunition, and to do that he had to go back to the armory. At least he had his sidearm. Not that it would do much.
Tom opened the door with his carbine drawn. No targets in sight.
"West, this is Tom. We're alive. Hostile positions?
"Roger that. We got approximately fifteen tangos spread out around the Gym area. The Raptors followed you guys. We've also got a curious thing in one of the supply storage rooms. Can't see for certain because the camera's blocked."
"You mean disabled?" Tom asked.
"No, I mean blocked. Either something is wrong with the camera feed or something is resting against the camera. I can see little patches of light in a corner, but the rest is dark."
"Alright. That must be the big guy we're looking for. You don't see any survivors in the rooms off the hallway?"
"Negative."
"Alright. Over and out." Tom ended the comm.
Time for a game of hide and seek. And it would be extremely lethal.
