He reached for the LED grenade that had been pinned to the shoulder strap of his tactical vest and found it wasn’t there. Damn. Only one left. He reached into the side cargo pocket of his camo BDU pants and pulled out the last LED grenade. After a quick inspection to determine that it seemed to still be functioning, he raised it toward the side of the sub, closed his eyes tightly and turned his head away before firing the incredibly bright burst of LED light at the creatures swarming over the hull. The shrieks were hideous and painful with the sound echoing off the wall of the sub and the concrete wall of the dock behind him.
When he opened his eyes, the last of the salamanders were fleeing from the burst over the top of the hull and behind the sail. Duncan wasted no time in unslinging the rocket launcher and clipping the reusable flash grenade to his vest. He still had his bayonet and his sidearm too but they would be of little use against any amphibians inside the close confines of the submarine. He raced up the metal gangplank from the dock’s surface to the top of the hull and opened the nearest hatch leading to the gigantic submarine’s innards. He switched the LED grenade to its spotlight mode and shined the beam down the hatch. No sign of movement. Good. He hadn’t expected any. He had only been on one United States submarine as president, and even though he had been in the Army and not the Navy, he knew by heart the number one rule on a submarine: KFDS—keep the fucking doors shut. Subs were designed with multiple inner bulkheads so that any single flooding compartment couldn’t spread to the other parts of the vessel. Duncan had reminded Carrack of that very rule when they had last been down here a few months ago, and they had been careful to seal all the bulkheads after themselves on their tour.
Duncan expected the entirety of the vessel to be free of salamanders except for the cargo section, where the mini-sub waited. That’s where they’ll all be. He raced headlong through the body of the submarine, opening and closing compartments and bulkhead doors as he went. The rusted green paint looked harsh in the electric glow of the bright LED lights, but he counted himself grateful that squinting from the painful light was the only threat he had to face as he made his way through the tight confines of the passages leading toward the bow.
Everything was going fine until he got to the last door, which would lead him into the retrofitted cargo section—the place he suspected of being the nest. His LED was starting to dim. The power cell was dying. He knew it ran on something other than a typical lithium battery, but he didn’t know exactly what it was. Still, he wasn’t pleased to see that his last light was dimming. It was still on, but it wasn’t as bright as it had been and the circumference of ambient light around him had decreased.
Really?This too!?
He knew he had to get it done quickly and get out. He pulled the M202 down from his shoulder and prepared the weapon. Then he opened the hatch and slowly pulled the door open a just a crack. He couldn’t see any movement in the yawning space beyond. He opened the door a little wider and stepped into the doorway. Nothing moving in the nearest twenty feet or so, beyond that the cargo space was lost in shadows and darkness.
Duncan aimed the rocket launcher ahead and stepped cautiously into the chamber. This time, he left the door open behind him. It was a violation of submarine rules but he wasn’t about to close off his route of escape. He took a few more tentative steps into the darkness, the feeble glow of his LED grenade dying further. Something ahead in the gloom shifted. He knew they were there, but something was wrong. When the darkness shifted, it moved as one unit.
Can they flock like birds now? he wondered.
He strained his eyes to see in the gloom but couldn’t make out any details. He was tired, frustrated, in pain from the twisted ankle and the shrapnel in his left arm from the exploding catwalk. He took another step and then tapped repeatedly at the LED light on his chest. It dimmed further. Son of a bitch. He unclipped the device and hurled it forward into the darkness. When it hit the floor of the sub, it burst with a blindingly bright white glare, illuminating the space until its far reaches, burning the horrific image of what Duncan saw into his retinas.
In the center of the cavernous cargo bay was a gigantic oversized salamander, whose head had to be at least ten meters wide. The Godzilla-sized mother salamander was rampaging straight for him despite the brilliant burst of light, its oversized muscular legs looking like those of an enormous monitor lizard or a Komodo dragon. The walls were coated with glistening eggs and at least a hundred of the six-foot long salamanders raced along on the walls and floor behind the enormous leader.
Duncan wasted no time, he fired the last rocket from the M202 FLASH and dropped the launcher as he ran like hell back for the open hatch. He dove into the next compartment and flung his body against the door, slamming it shut as the detonation of the rocket hit the door, launching it open again and sending him flying down the narrow corridor to the next bulkhead door. He reached up and spun the wheel on the hatch as flames and smoke filled the compartment. The second he had it open, he climbed in and pulled it shut behind him, giving the wheel on the other side of the door a hard spin.
He leaned his back against the door and slid down it to the floor, as it began to warm from the raging napalm fire on the other side of the bulkhead.
23.