Reign of Evil

Finally, out of breath, but safe behind the door, he was able to answer Holmes and check on Yank.

* * *

Walker and YaYa exchanged glances through the darkness. Both of them wished they were upstairs. They were close enough to hear the sound of battle and the cataclysmic crash of the Apatosaurus skeleton in real time. Then came the telltale howl of the hound.

So many questions ran through Walker’s mind, especially ones regarding the fate of his fellow SEALs, but his mission was to secure the stairwell.

The two SEALs were in charge of securing one of the two sets of stairs that could be used to enter the basement. Ian and Trevor held the other.

When Walker heard Laws’s hurried report to Holmes, he was pleased that the lanky second in command had made it, but was concerned for Yank. It took a moment for Laws to ascertain his status, but it appeared as if the newest member of the team was unconscious and there was nothing Laws could do to change that.

Walker was so engrossed listening to the play-by-play that he almost missed the attack, foreshadowed only by the sound of metal on granite. One glance at the grenade bouncing down the stairs made him switch his QUADEYE off.

“Flash bang!”

He closed his eyes and a moment later the universe exploded into white. As it faded, he switched his night vision back on. He could see YaYa shaking his head, clearly having missed or been unable to heed the warning. But that was the least of his concerns.

Boots rattled against marble as five men charged down the stairs.

Walker pegged three of them in the chest and one in the leg before he had to swing back around the corner. Return fire exploded wood and stone from the doorway he’d left. Unable to fire back, he tossed his own flash-bang grenade. When it went off, he slung himself back around the corner and to the floor, changing levels. He fired. Two men went down, but two others were pulling a wounded man back up the stairs.

YaYa jerked his QUADEYE free. He’d felt blind with it. At least now, he could operate in the gloom.

“Ghost One, this is Ghost Three. Five beegees tried to infil west staircase. One down. Four retreated.”

Walker was about to check on the downed man when he heard gunfire from the east staircase.

* * *

Ian and Trevor weren’t fucking around. They’d dangled a grenade from the upper stairwell, tied it off to the railing, and trailed a filament-thin line so they could quickly pull the greased pin… which they did as three men stormed down the stairs. Ian and Trevor twisted around the wall, putting several feet of marble between them and the blast.

One thousand one.

One thousand two.

One thousand three.

Kaboom!

One of the attackers was about to breach the doorway but was flung to the wall like a broken-backed toy by the explosion. When it came, it was like a dragon’s roar. Flame, pieces of meat and muscle, and thousands of granite and marble chips shot through the doorway. Whoever they were, they didn’t have time to scream or react, and the grenade had been too high to notice.

When the pieces stopped falling, both men stood and surveyed the stairs.

Trevor wiped soot from his face. “Bloody fucking hell.”

“Takes care of that.” Ian turned to the one who’d been slung free of the blast, intent on a quick interrogation. But one look at the exposed spine and the head spun halfway around told Ian there’d be no words coming from this gent.

“Demon One, this is Ghost One; report.”

Ian tapped Trevor on the shoulder and gestured toward the stairs. “Moving to flank.”

They stacked up the stairs, slipping a little on the pieces of the would-be attackers. When they hit the top, they got down and turned toward the Fossil Marine Reptile exhibit. Ian peered around the corner and spied five men in black, night-vision goggles, body armor, and black skullcaps preparing to descend. He raised his rifle, sighted in through the fixed optics, and put two rounds into the side of the nearest man’s head.

The reaction was instantaneous as the remaining four knelt and returned fire.

Ian ducked around the corner as rounds slammed into the concrete and granite. He pointed behind them where the restaurant was, indicating Trevor should move in that direction. Once he was moving, Ian pulled another grenade, made a silent apology to the Queen for blowing up even more of her museum, pulled the pin, then tossed it around the corner.

He barreled after Trevor, only to come up short as he watched what could only be one of those hounds making its way across the tops of the tables directly toward them.

“Back down!” Ian commanded.

They turned and crashed down the stairs, taking them three at a time. Halfway down they slipped on gore, falling hard to the marble-edged stairs. Their body armor took the brunt of the damage, but the air left them. Still, they were all that was left of Section 9 and by god Ian wasn’t going to allow them to go out as supernatural dog food.