The moments before Caleb fired, he rehearsed the movements. Two in the chest, one in the head.

  How tall is Belker? Taller than me for sure.

  He looked over at Johnson, waiting for the signal. Johnson scratched his mustache, then nodded.

  “Do it.”

  Caleb squeezed off the first two shots, the recoil rattling through his arm and into his shoulder. By then he was already in place for the headshot, so he fired again.

  The squad ran in, through the smoking barrel.

  They twisted the chair around to reveal a life-sized dummy dressed in Belker’s clothes. It came complete with insane headgear, but the dummy wore a hand-stitched toothy grin instead of a surgical mask.

  “Goddamnit,” Johnson drove his fist into a white cabinet. “He’s always five steps ahead of us.”

  “Bossman…” Cartwright turned back to Johnson, his voice tremulous. “We gotta evac now.”

  Cartwright held up a snaking mass of multi-coloured wires that led from the dummy all the way through the wall ahead.

  “Check this out,” another soldier said. She held the dummy’s torso in both hands, its soft and skinny legs still dangling to the floor. She squeezed it, and Belker’s voice echoed through a tinny speaker in the dummy’s head. “Congratulations, esteemed warriors of this world’s fine government.” his voice dripped with sarcasm. “You’ve successfully set off the chain that will result in the demise of the current pathetic world order.”

  Oh shit.

  “Oh dear indeed,” the recording said after a pause, predicting the reaction.

  “As you have probably pieced together by now, the wires attached to my delightful doppelganger herald the destruction of this facility. Now here’s the fun bit…”

  He’s loving this. Caleb thought. This was his plan exactly.

  “Not only will this entire laboratory explode, killing you all of course, but its destruction will release Progenitor Spores into the atmosphere, where they will take flight on the wind and begin to recreate this weak, weak world.”

  “Progenitor Spores? Ryder, what do we know about these?!”

  Ryder was already cross-legged on the floor, typing furiously on her thick-case laptop. “Nothing, sir! This is the first ever use of the term!”

  “He wanted us here…” Johnson turned to Caleb. “No wonder you all survived.”

  He turned back to Ryder, sweat flinging from his brow.

  “Inspect these cables. We need to know where they lead. We need to know how to shut down the spore release.”

  “Uh, actually I think we need to get out of here.” Oliver muttered.

  “Wrong, soldier!” Johnson whipped around, flicking the sweat from his mustache into Oliver’s face. “I will sacrifice us all if it means cancelling the launch of those Progenitor Spores. You need to get into the same mindset.”

  The squad nodded their heads gravely, as if to say “Welcome to the club.”

  Ryder held a handheld scanner up to the wall. “It doesn’t lead far,” she said. “Through that wall and up a service ladder.” She turned a full 120 degrees and crouched down to the floor, coming dangerously close to Caleb.

  “That hatch, there.” Ryder pointed to the small metal grate on the floor.

  Johnson stroked his clean-shaved chin. “Well, we can’t all go down there.”

  He weighed up his options. “Ryder, can you afford to lose the backpack?”

  “Affirmative. All I need is a pair of wire cutters and the scanner.”

  Johnson smiled. “I love a low-maintenance techspert.” He kicked the dummy’s legs.

  “How long do we think we’ve got before this place blows.”

  “No way to know.” Ryder thought for a second. “But he clearly wanted to give us some kind of chance or the place would have blown the second we busted our way in here.”

  “Sick fuck…” Johnson spat. “He’s always playing games.”

  He brushed his moustache again, deep in thought. “Look, you’ll need someone with you for supporting fire or if you need a second hand with the all-important boom wire.”

  Caleb shuddered at the idea of bearing the brunt of the explosion. He imagined the Progenitor Spores as invasive mushrooms, pulling his body apart to twist it into all-new and terrible shapes.

  The Razorpi hiding out inside that soldier was bad enough…

  “And of course that honor falls to the smallest soldier…”

  All eyes turned to Caleb.

  “Pity about the target, but your aim wasn’t too bad.” Cartwright said. “You’ll do great.”

  Caleb glanced back over at the dummy. Cartwright wasn’t wrong. All three bullets had found their intended targets. A tight pair of two tore open the dummy’s chest, while the single headshot had found its mark just over its right eyebrow.

  Caleb felt a short, sharp bolt of confidence shock his system.

  That confidence was dashed the second he tried to lumber down into the floor-level air vent.

  “Do you guys get this?” he said, hovering his hands over his entire body. “That sluggishness. That delay.”

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  Johnson laughed. “Sounds like you need to hit the gym, squirt. Now get down there.”

  Ryder went first. She heaved her bulky backpack off, pocketed her scanner in a pouch on her cargo pants, then got to work prying the grate off the air vent with a handheld screwdriver. She made quick work of it, then slid the grate to the side and disappeared into the claustrophobia-inducing labyrinth.

  It took a few attempts, but eventually Caleb managed to lock onto the open grate. It was almost an out-of-body experience as he watched himself disappear into the wall, and then, there he was, in the darkness.

  “Here,” Ryder threw him a penlight. “That’ll help you find your way. Just focus on the ass.” She cackled, delighting in Caleb’s discomfort.

  I must admit, it’s a better view than Oliver’s ass…

  Caleb followed as Ryder shuffled through the vent system - taking a left turn here, a right turn there. Occasionally she stopped to read her scanner, then continued onwards.

  “Here,” she said, stopping at an identical grate to the one they had emerged from. Neon vermilion light shone through the gaps, painting Ryder’s face in bands. She got to work with the screwdriver, only bothering to unscrew 2 adjoining fixings, before kicking the grate through. It clattered to the floor, bent in two.

  “I think it's safe,” she squinted through hell itself, then shrugged and disappeared inside.

  Caleb inched his way out behind Ryder, feet first.

  The room was no bigger than the broom closet or Save Room, but was lit with a massive red bulb like a human-sized terrarium.

  Ryder was already deep in work, breaking apart a giant steel cylinder that looked like a massive pressure cooker.

  Caleb tried to swallow, but his throat was so dry. The spore machine throbbed with energy. A subsonic thrum attacked eardrums. His head started to pound almost immediately. The red was making his eyes ache too.

  “Cover me,” Ryder looked back and threw Caleb a smile. “Just in case.” Blood dribbled from her nose.

  Unsheathing the silenced pistol, Caleb pointed it in every direction.

  “Where should I aim?”

  Ryder tutted. “Entry points.” She put a piece of wire between her teeth and stripped it down.

  There was only one entry point into this sarcophagal room - the one they had entered from.

  It’s just the right size for a razorpi to scuttle through…

  A harsh beep sounded from the Progenitor Machine.

  “What was that?”

  “Not important.” Ryder said, in a tone that suggested it probably was very important.

  Two secret vents slid open at the top of the machine. Ryder cut a few more wires and they closed again.

  A tiny puff of dust wafted over; Ryder sucked in air as she worked.

  She coughed.

  Something inside the machine hissed, as if it had released gases inside itself.

  “You okay?” Caleb turned back. She stared down at the floor, her fist at her chest.

  She coughed again, pounding her chest. “Yeah.” She hacked up saliva. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just got some dust stuck in my throaaghhhhhh-“

  Ryder fell to her knees, the syllable drawing itself out impossibly long, turning to a guttural roar. She vomited blood.

  “Oh fuck!” Cale shouted, turning the gun in Ryder’s direction. “You’ve inhaled a spore!”

  “No, no…” she whispered, her face turning pale green. Those vein-like worms swam like tadpoles across the whites of her eyes, clouding her pupils.

  “Don’t…” she choked. “I need to stop it.”

  Caleb aimed the pistol directly between her eyes. “Don’t… kill… ME.”

  He fired just as she said it, but the Progenitor Spore had already done its job. Thick, keratinous talons sprang from her fingertips as she pounced to swipe the gun from Caleb’s hands.

  The pistol exploded into a hundred pieces against the wall. Caleb scrambled back, as Ryder sloughed off the remains of her human arms to revel in her new form.

  Her biceps and forearms bulged beyond the capability of the human body. She was steroids made flesh, on steroids. Her bottom jaw jutted forward to accommodate a fresh set of long, curved and razor-sharp teeth. Her eyes absent of pupils and seemingly blind, imbuing her with a bestial aura.

  Belker clearly takes inspiration from the animal kingdom… Caleb thought. No surprise. There is no clearer hierarchy of power than the food chain.

  Ryder looked at Caleb now and saw nothing but meat.

  He doubled back, waiting for her to make a move but knowing that she was much too quick for him to dodge in time.

  And even if I did dodge, then what?

  Just as he thought it, the screwdriver on the floor glinted… a hint from the angels.

  Ryder waited for Caleb to make the first move. She beat herself with both hands to her chest, caring not for the deep lacerations she was causing to herself. Deep black blood oozed from her wounds, not unlike the acidic Razorpi secretions.

  She roared, and Caleb took a chance. Ryder threw herself head-first into the wall, missing Caleb but just an inch as he shakily sidestepped.

  He turned, turned, turned - so goddamn slow - to face the screwdriver, and mashed the action buttons in his brain. Pick it up. Pick it up.

  Pick.

  It.

  Up.

  Screwdriver finally in hand, Caleb looked up just in time to see the jaws close down on his face.

  Caleb thrust the screwdriver up through Ryder’s bottom jaw. She recoiled, not expecting the makeshift piercing. He kept a firm grasp of the screwdriver as she flung her own head back to pull it out. Her twirled it so the sharp head pointed downwards, then stabbed

  stabbed

  stabbed

  through Ryder’s face. The air smoked as Caleb made puncture after puncture in the creature’s maw, and he soon realised the screwdriver was melting

  Yep. The same stuff as the razorpi.

  Ryder got a faceful of her own blood as it spurted up from her mouth and back into her face. It immediately got to work, eating away to the bone. Caleb threw the melting screwdriver before it could eat into his hand, and quickly whipped his shirt off before the acid there could do any damage.

  Still, his scalp burnt. He scratched his head and pulled away whole clumps of hair.

  Can’t do shit about it right now.

  Caleb staggered back as the now-familiar slick of blood pooled across his abdomen. Caleb was weak, weary, shaken up by the sheer violence he’d been forced to carry out.

  Ryder lay on the floor, her bestial and holey face contorted in a grotesque death mask. Inside her mouth, a single knife-like tooth glinted in the red light.

  Please don’t make me go in there.

  But his hand was already inside the mouth. He willed it the second he got within reach. Gelatinous goo covered his hand as he rocked the tooth free from quickly-rotting gums. The stench was intense - morning breath amped up to 1000% power.

  He turned to leave, but was again stopped by that tell-tale glint. A pocket device, about the size of an OG Game Boy, fell from her ripped cargo pants.

  Caleb pocketed the massive tooth and the decoder-

  Where were these things going, anyway? They only seem to appear when I think of them. I must have some kind of inventory…

  - then clambered back into the vent, not even knowing if Ryder had managed to deactivate the Progenitor Machine before she had succumbed to its wretched spawn.

  The vent comforted Caleb now. He lay down to feel the cool surface on his naked and bleeding chest. He closed his eyes, the soft sound of air wafting through the system whispering to him. He saw that angel with hands outstretched, and knew somehow that it was beckoning him into their fold; urging him to embark on a journey of ascension…

  “What the hell happened in there?!” Johnson ripped him out of the vent, away from the embrace of his savior and back into the abyss.