“Did you just heal a razorpi?!” Caleb grabbed handfuls of hair as he screamed. “We can’t afford another fight.”

  The razorpi popped its eyes out from the ill-fitting mask it had made from the soldier’s skull and squeezed its entire body out through the soldier’s mouth. The slimy razorpi soon got jammed, ripping apart the soldier’s head until the top half of his head came apart and flopped to the floor.

  Oh god. The soldier was already dead. That thing was wearing it like a costume.

  They didn’t stand a chance. The trio bundled down the corridor, quickly having to come to terms with their impending deaths.

  “I’m sorry!” Oliver cried, as they skidded down the only corner to bundle headfirst into a heavily armed SWAT team.

  “Down on the ground!”

  Caleb didn’t have to be told twice. He leapt to the floor and covered his ears, just as a hailstorm of gunfire blazed overhead. The heat singed the hair on his knuckles as he clutched the back of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, as he did when he was a kid desperately trying to get to sleep. Stars danced across the backs of his eyelids, coalescing into the shape of an all-knowing angel.

  Molten shells rained down on his back. He shuffled to try and escape the storm, only for a soldier to plant a booted foot squarely in the middle of his back. He stopped squirming and waited for the war to abate.

  More razorpi squealed as they popped under hollowpoint hailfire.

  Where the hell had they come from?

  “CLEAR!”

  Caleb opened his eyes, struggling to focus after what seemed like an eternity down on the ground. Kayleigh and Oliver were equally bewildered - they dusted off their gunpowder filled hair and shook off the empty shells to witness the slaughter.

  “There were more?” Kayleigh shot Caleb an utterly aghast expression.

  “There’s always more.” The gruff commander with a thick black pushbroom mustache said. “Name’s Jameson. You’re in Ground Zero. Lucky to be alive. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “We were teleported here.” Caleb explained.

  The squad leapt to attention and 5 pinprick laser points encircled his head and heart.

  “Permission to execute with extreme prejudice, sir?” shouted a flanking soldier, his face obscured by black-tinted shades. The way the soldier put an upward inflection on ‘sir’ reminded Caleb of old war movies his dad used to watch.

  “Denied, soldier.” Jameson sauntered up to Caleb and looked him deep in the eyes. His breath smelt like a mixture of tobacco, beans and whiskey.

  He’s trying to see if we’re one of them, thought the hero, before deciding to take control of this encounter before Caleb got himself killed.

  “I don’t mean we were born in this lab.” Caleb immediately corrected his posture, carrying himself as tall and proud as he could. “I’m a Ravensbrook native myself. We all are. I’m here for answers.”

  Jameson laughed. His eyes widened, their bravery clearly surprising him. “Now, is that so?”

  Caleb nodded decisively.

  “Yes indeed, sir.” he said, firmly but respectfully. “Belker has cast a shadow over our home for far too long.”

  A soldier whooped in support. A few others followed.

  “Well,” Jameson sniffed. “Looks like you’ve got the support of my men. For now.”

  He turned to Oliver. “And you can corroborate his story?”

  Oliver stuttered. He hadn’t found his hero yet. “Ye-Yes- Yes, I can sir.”

  “Good. Well done for spitting it out too. Very brave of you.” Jameson concentrated on Kayleigh. “How about you?”

  “It happened exactly as Caleb said.” she said icily - fully embodying her hero.

  “Okay, well, given our current state, I’m not liable to make any extra enemies if I can help it.” Jameson said.

  “Where are you from?” Caleb asked.

  “Ravensbrook, just like yourself. The world’s governments are doing everything they can to keep the outbreaks within its boundaries. Not a single operative born outside the Ravensbrook area has been allowed in, and not a single member of Ravensbrook had been allowed out. Total lockdown.”

  Jameson got real close to Caleb, bearing down on him. “But you knew this, surely?”

  Kayleigh scratched at her head - a nervous tick she had never been able to shift.

  “Oh course I do,” Caleb lied. “I was testing you, actually. Belker’s creations come in many forms, and they can be pretty convincing.”

  Caleb smirked, not really sure where this confidence was coming from. He guessed being so close to certain death at all times was doing some strange things to his sense of judgment.

  Jameson glared a hole through Caleb. The soldiers lowered their guns. The air was thick with tension.

  Okay, so these men really are from here. Caleb thought. What does that mean for our chances of getting back home?

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  Jameson signalled to the three men closest to him.

  “Give these newbies your sidearms.”

  Oliver found a little confidence. “Not necessary, sir. I could use some ammo though, if you can spare a few clips.”

  Jameson nodded, reached into his tactical pouch and handed Oliver a box of ammo.

  “Do you guys have any med packs to spare?”

  Jameson looked at Kayleigh with a withering glare. “We’ll administer aid, if it’s needed.”

  Caleb didn’t like the sound of this guy’s judgement. He seemed like the kind of soldier so used to making difficult decisions that he made them even when he didn’t have to. Caleb didn’t fancy bleeding out on the floor, while this guy brushed his moustache and told his squad to move on.

  The soldier in black glasses handed Caleb his silenced pistol. Caleb couldn’t help but notice it was similar to the one Belker ended his life with.

  “You know how to use this thing?”

  “I think so.” Caleb searched for the little black tab that Oliver had pressed on his m19 earlier. It wasn’t the exact same model, but it was similar enough.

  “A gun’s a gun, right? You’ve got your safety...”

  Caleb clicked the safety off and then on again. “... then the trigger’s pretty self explanatory.”

  “I don’t take kindly to cocky civilians.” the soldier said. “You better point that thing in the right direction when the shooting starts.”

  Jameson clapped his hands together. “So, if you’re going to join us for this mission, let me fill you in. Fall in, soldiers.”

  The squad formed a circle around him, with Kayleigh, Caleb and Oliver uncertain links in the chain. “We entered through the roof via helicopter, after receiving covering fire from companion helos to clear the air of vamps.”

  Caleb wished he hadn’t heard that correctly. Oliver choked on his own spittle. What little colour was left on Kayleigh’s face started to fade away.

  “Don’t worry,” Jameson winked. “They’ll keep the air cleared long enough for exfil. Anyway, we immediately got ambushed by squidders-”

  “Octopi.” corrected Caleb. “These things have 8 arms and their bodies are round. Squid are torpedo-shaped. We call them Razorpi.”

  Jameson laughed. “Oh, okay, your highness. I didn’t realise you earned your degree in marine biology. Razorpi.” He repeated the name in a withering tone. For a moment, Caleb wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

  “- and lost a brave member of the squad.”

  Jameson eyed up the handgun on Oliver’s hip. “I believe I can see that parts of her are still with us now.” he said, his voice rich with sarcasm.

  Oliver turned a deep shade of red and stared at the floor.

  “We moved on before they got a chance to puppet her, headed down the stairs and very carefully weaved past the gas tanks. We were sweeping the place when we heard the commotion - we guessed you guys weren’t quite so lucky getting past the experiments?”

  They all shook their heads gravely.

  Jameson hocked a bright green loogie to the floor. “Then we can blame you for Ellefson’s death too.”

  Caleb let out a cry.

  I can’t bear the weight of two deaths on my soul… Three including Crisp White Shirt. I know I can’t really be blamed for him, but I still saw him die. Four if I count myself.

  “How?” Oliver asked. His voice broke - he was just as distraught.

  “When you let loose with that flamethrower - yeah, we heard that too - one of those razorpi fled and ran right into our backs. We didn’t hear it coming. Ellefson never had a chance.”

  “Fuck!” Kayleigh saw red. “Goddamnit, Caleb. You messed up so bad back there.”

  “I know, I know.”

  Kayleigh held two fingers up. “Two. Two people are dead! And you wasted that goddamn ink ribbon!”

  “Ink ribbon?” Jameson put himself between them to de-escalate the confrontation. “You used one?”

  Caleb nodded again.

  “I know of their power, but I’ve never been in the position to use one myself. I’d be pretty hesitant too, knowing what Belker’s other experiments end up like. What was it like?” He grabbed Caleb by the shoulders. “What was it like to die?”

  “It’s darkness. Total black.” Caleb lied. He didn’t have time to explain now. Some secrets needed to be kept safe. “Nothing. And then you’re back.”

  “Hmm…”

  Jameson chewed on Caleb’s answer. He didn’t seem satisfied with it.

  “I’m sorry about your squadmate.” Caleb said, trying to shift the conversation away from the ultimate question of life after death.

  “We lost one too.”

  Jameson bowed his head briefly. “My condolences.”

  “He was the bravest of us all.” Kayleigh chipped in.

  “Aren’t they always? You can’t take risks in this world. I’m surprised so many of you are all still alive, to be honest.”

  “We’ve got brains on our side.” Caleb folded his arms.

  “Good. Make sure you keep them on your side and not splattered on the floor. We’re close to the heart of Belker’s whole operation. Stay back, and listen for my command. Don’t do anything stupid. Actually, don’t do anything unless I expressly tell you too.”

  The trio nodded.

  “Unless you want to end up like your poor friend.”

  Dave.

  I hope we get time to mourn you soon, Caleb thought. So I can tell you how truly sorry I am.

  The squad marched forward with their knees bent and their guns primed - ready to strike.

  Just like the main door into Belker’s private laboratory had been, the door to Belker’s office was wide open. Jameson pumped his fist up, signalling the squad to stop.

  He peered down the sights of his sub-machine gun and tried to survey the office’s interior. A black leather chair with a tall back stood swiveled away from the door. Belker could easily be sitting in it.

  Caleb braced himself for the big villain reveal, but it never came.

  Jameson tentatively stepped forward, creeping ever-closer until he was at the threshold to Belker’s office.

  “What’s the play here, Johnson?” asked the soldier with the black glasses.

  Caleb figured he was second-in-command.

  Johnson growled. “Smells like a set-up to me, Cartwright.”

  Cartwright nodded. “Glad we share the gut feeling on this one, sir. Want me to fill the chair full of holes.”

  “Three shots. Central mass and head. Keep it suppressed.”

  “The kid’s got my firearm, sir.”

  Johnson tapped his head. “Of course. You, the skinny one, get here.”

  The soldiers jostled Caleb to the front of the line.

  “Did you hear what I told Cartwright?”

  “Three shots. Central mass and head.”

  Johnson nodded. “Get to it. I want to see how much of a natural you are.”

  Not at all.

  Caleb wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs, then exhaled deeply. He closed his eyes, turned off the safety then raised the gun up in both hands. He tried to remember what he’d seen in games like this one.

  Arms bent. Looking down the sights but not so close you give yourself a black eye with the recoil.

  He made sure the suppressor was screwed on tight...

  … closed one eye…

  … wrapped his finger around the trigger…

  … and squeezed it three times in quick succession.

  An hour ago, Caleb had been killed. Now he was a killer to match.