SNAFU: Survival of the Fittest

“Shit! How big is this fucker?” Micky turned and indicated at the ordnance box. Wordlessly and with the fluidity that comes with years of training, experience and working together, Gary grabbed an FNP90 out of the box and tossed it to his friend. Both men took position, stabilising their stance by dropping down to one knee and tucking the P90 hard into their shoulders. They sighted on the door, ready to fill anything that came through with hollow-points. The P90s held 50-shot magazines, so they were pretty sure they could at least dissuade Vlad from simply waltzing in and turning the armoury into an abattoir in short order.

“Wait out…” Flynn gave the order to stand by to engage as soon as the ancient door gave way. A third impact sent tremors through the wood. All three men primed their guns in unison and waited.

A fourth impact. The door flexed — but it held. Just. From beyond the iron-hard blackened wood came a primeval snuffling and snarling. Clawed fingers scrabbled at the wood, sliding ineffectually over fibres that had long ago hardened into the consistency of steel ropes. The snuffling and snarling became frenetic, the sound of scrabbling nails more frenzied. The beast let out a howl of rage and launched a barrage of attacks against the door. A final scream of pure fury rang through the granite corridor then silence. The last few motes of mortar dust floated down.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Has it gone?” Micky Cox’s voice was an equal balance of hard-core ‘bring it on, you fucker!’ and just enough concern to ensure the element of self-preservation kicked in.

“Doubt it, Mick. Probably just buggered off up the corridor to take a good old run up, mate. Eye’s on.” Gary Parks’ eyes flickered briefly from the door to Flynn. “Now what, boss? Another battering like that and that door’s coming down.”

“Stand fast.” Flynn shifted his grip on his own P90 and waited. “Okay, Professor, suggestions? Because we can’t hold this thing off forever.”

“I… sir, I’m an archaeologist, not a damn strategist!”

“Fella, I’m an ex-soldier, not Buffy the fucking Vampire Slayer, but you don’t see me crying in a corner, do you? Now think! Use that brain of yours to try and figure a way out of here!” He jerked his head towards the table. “There’s a map of the citadel tunnels on the table. Find us a quick way to the surface. Because Gary’s right, that door ain’t gonna put up with another battering like that. Mister Bitey out there is coming through on the next assault, and I want to be ready for him.”

The archaeologist scuttled over to the table and started poring over the map.

“Boss? I could set a charge if you like? When Sir Chompsalot comes through I could vaporise the bugger, no probs.”

Flynn shook his head. “As much as I like the sound of that, it would bring the whole damn chamber down on top of our heads too. Kinda a lose-lose situation, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Nah. I can use it like blasting cord. Loop a line of Play Doh around the door frame and direct the explosion inwards. It would contain the blast, wouldn’t compromise the chamber ceiling, and give Chompy out there one hell of a headache. If nothing else, it would at least buy us some time to make a run for it. And to be honest? I don’t like the fact we’re effectively cornered in here.”

Flynn looked at his friend. “I agree, mate. Look, are you absolutely sure?”

“Yep.”

“You’re sure sure?”

“Boss, your doubt in my ability to blow shit up in a controlled and refined manner wounds me!”

“Gary, I have no doubt that you can blow shit up. I just don’t want you blowing us up at the same time.” He glanced at Micky. “Mick? You’re our engineer. You concur?”

“Do-able. As long as the Play Doh is put on the very edge of the frame it should do exactly as Gary says without compromising the roof. But dude, you better be pretty sparing near the apex of the door arch. If that central keystone block comes down, the whole lot follows it.”

Gary nodded. “Duly noted. Boss?”

“Do it.”

Gary immediately put his P90 down and turned to the ordnance box. Flynn flickered his eyes away from the door and towards the professor. “Professor? How’s it coming? Got a green route out of here yet or what?”

“I may have something…” The professor spun the map around and stared intently at it. “Yes… yes! There’s another way out!” He looked up and smiled a hopeful, slightly hysterical smile. “That door is obviously the main exit route, but there’s another egress marked here. It drops us into a corridor and then out into the main passageway.”

“Aww, bless! Listen to you, fella! Egress!” Micky laughed sharply. “We must be rubbing off on ya. Anyone else would’ve said a ‘secret door’!”

“Leave the man alone, Mick. Right. Where’s this ‘egress’ point, Professor?” Flynn nodded at Micky. “Don’t take your eyes off that door, Cox.”

“Copy.”

Flynn focused his attention back on the academic. “Okay. Show me.”

“This is the armoury. This is where we are.”