Free Hive III by Griffin Hayes Page A

otherwise perfect illusion. The ancient Keeper records from the archive made it clear enough that the Queen’s resting place would be sealed and impenetrable. It was a door built without a key because the ancestors couldn’t imagine ever needing to open it and, even now, standing before it, I can feel the Queen’s influence growing stronger. I draw my eyes closed and concentrate on sending out a proper signal. The Zees around me are standing perfectly still, some are turning back and forth as though two competing signals are wrestling for their attention. The doubt is what is causing the problem. The door looks so impenetrable I can’t imagine how to get past it and in that gap of leadership, the Zees turn to the next best thing. But then everything becomes clear. Why go through it when you can go around? With my brainwave, the Zees begin digging, scraping their nails along the walls like a pack of moles, burrowing a new home. Soon the flesh on their digits strips away, revealing bone, and now we’re really making progress. The Zees who can’t dig ferry the rock dust back and out of the way. Some, with arms reduced to little more than radial bones, make way for their undamaged brethren. This same routine continues for close to an hour before the wall around the thick steel door is completely excavated. With a moan it begins to teeter and then, in a single motion, comes crashing to the ground, flattening a dozen unsuspecting Zees and filling the passageway with thick, choking clouds of dust. 
    I wave Plak forward. “Are you ready to make history?”

-17-
     
    Ret
     
    The sound of thundering footsteps and grating metal joints echo around us as Dhal leads the charge. He’s strapped into that twenty foot, smoke belching monster and, even behind the protective metal visor, I can still hear him whooping and hollering with joy. The fool thinks he’s invulnerable. The rest of us struggle to keep up. With all those Zee chasing something in the surrounding hills, we might just make it into the city before they return. We make first contact with a few Zee outliers at about the same time we reach the foot of the hill. They barely have a chance to hiss before Dhal plows into them. A red burst of blood and bone explodes off the machine’s legs. At a full run, Bron lobs a handful of grenades ahead of us to clear a path. He’s timed each detonation to trigger a half dozen feet in the air, tearing gaping holes in their ranks. Some of them are beginning to notice our assault and turn to face us. That’s when Bron plants his feet and unleashes a hail of fire. The explosive shells rip into them. Arms and legs are sent spinning in mid-air.
    We’re approaching the gate when a pack surge s in at us from the side.
    “Contact right,” I yell. The Zees are less than a dozen feet away when I open up with my automatic shotgun. One Zee out front , who looks like a Grinder from Sotercity, has his head blown clear off. The rest of him keeps running for three more steps before crashing to the ground.
    Now Bron’s got one arm pointing right, laying down a hail of destructive fire , his explosive shells penetrating five or six Zees deep before detonating. The carnage is awe inspiring. The sheer look of exhilaration on Bron’s face tells me he agrees. On our left, another group of Zees comes charging in at us. Oleg pops away with his pistol and I’d be surprised if he hit a single one. I swing left and engage them. I’ve already used a quarter of the ammo in my drum magazine and I’m doing my best to make every shot count. The last thing anyone wants is to be in the middle of a reload when a pack of Zees reaches your lines.
     
    The dead and dying are piled at our feet, but these aren’t just Zees. These are the citizens of the capital, caught in the crushing wave of snapping jaws. Already some have changed into creatures themselves and joined ranks with the Zees. On the walls, a handful of Keepers are still firing down into the streets