He had thought before that it was silent in the car. He was wrong. It wasn’t silent in the car. It was silent outside.
In the next moment, Hope sighed. Ken looked at his daughter. She was grinning in a way he had never seen. An old smile, the smile not of an innocent child, but of someone who has seen far too many things that are far too dark.
She winked.
And outside the car, several coughs sounded.
Acid sizzled. Not randomly, but directly above Buck’s head, above Dorcas and Christopher, above Ken and Aaron.
The things outside had found a way to target them.
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Everyone moved.
Ken tried to roll away. Got tangled in himself. He heard the sssss-hissss of acid above him.
Feet pounded on the floor.
He grunted. Rolled on his bad hand. The stumps of his missing fingers scraped on the floor. He almost screamed, but something stopped him. He bit his tongue and the inside of his cheek. The new pain drew his mind away from the red bloom of agony centered at the stumps of his missing fingers.
Hope was still smiling. Grinning.
How do they know where we are?
The thought entered his mind that they knew because Hope was here. That they knew because she knew.
She was wrapped in that crap for hours.
What if they did something to her?
What if they changed her somehow? Made her one of them? A spy? What if they see whatever she sees?
No. That’s impossible.
Of course, everything else that had happened in these hours was impossible as well. Why not one more thing?
And the answer was simple: if the things knew everything they were doing, then there was no hope of escape. So that couldn’t be the answer. Because it would be a useless answer. And Ken wouldn’t accept a solution that ended with his family and the rest of the survivors – the rest of humanity – doomed.
So no. Not some kind of telepathy.
What else?
He tried to get to his feet. Hope’s weight on his chest, her body dragging at the belt that cinched them both together, pulled him off-center. He almost fell again. His good hand went down on the floor. Fingers plunged into nothing.
There was a hole there.
Something grabbed his fingers.
He pulled them back, terror wringing a curse from his lips. The things were underneath. Waiting for someone to put a hand through the floor, perhaps? Just waiting to bite?
What would happen if someone changed in here?
The answer was a nightmare movie that played out quickly in his mind.
He realized the others were screaming as they moved away from the acid that hissed through the ceiling. Realized that everyone was making noise. Too much noise to think.
Buck’s foot went through a hole in the floor. He yelled and yanked it out, and Ken saw fingers clutching at the man’s heel.
Maggie cried out in terror.
Dorcas hollered as Christopher was almost splattered by a stream of acid that fell from above, then splashed against a wall that hissed and started to dissolve.
Smoke.
Coughing.
Screaming.
Too much noise.
Can’t think.
Too much.
And Ken suddenly understood.
The elevator fell another three inches. More.
Screams.
He didn’t know if they would have enough time to get out. The things outside were too many and too heavy. The brakes must be shot.
They were going to fall.
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“Shut up!”
Ken’s shout worked, though probably more because they were surprised at the outburst than because of any inherent power in his still-gravelly voice. Everyone fell silent. Trying to split glances between him, the sizzling ceiling tiles, and the spots that were gradually opening in the floor.
He gestured them to move toward the center of the cab. Finger over his lips.
It had been silent.
Hope had been silent.
She had been cooing and calling on the cables. And even in the elevator for a few moments.
Then she stopped.
Why?
And Ken had thought that it was quiet for a moment in the cab, but he was wrong. It had been quiet outside. The things, the growling, snuffling, snarling things, had been silent.
He remembered the ones that bounded over the bridge of their fellows. The ones with eyes covered. Blind, but not falling.
Chirping.
And the acid falling from the ceiling. Vomited forth after each of them screamed, or spoke.
They were listening. The monsters were hearing. Targeting them like sub-killers looking for U-boats. Dropping acid instead of depth charges, but the idea was the same.
Silence was salvation.
Ken pulled everyone together.
The sizzle-spit-crackle of burning acid was the only sound.
The elevator cracked. Plunged a full foot. Christopher inhaled, and Ken wondered if the young man was going to scream and kill them all.
Dorcas slammed her hand over his mouth. She nodded at Ken. She understood.
They stood in a tight circle.
Waiting.
The elevator creaked around them.
What now?
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