Ashlyn Chronicles 1: 2287 A.D. by Glenn van Dyke, Renee van Dyke Page B
Authors: Glenn van Dyke, Renee van Dyke
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the sling down. Victor was strapped in and lying flat. The ride was wild. The sling swung violently back and forth. The wind lifted it and dropped it. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god,” was all Victor could say.
He could hear the explosions below. He could feel the heat and then just as suddenly a blast of freezing cold air, driven by the storm. He wasn’t trained for combat. Moreover, he was a timid man and without his even noticing it, he began to pee.
Stratt yelled to his team, “The doc’s coming. Push the spiders back, clear a spot for him.”
Cole and Moore moved forward, pushing the advancing line of spiders back.
“Robbie, twenty meters more,” said Stratt. “You’re right on target.”
Without warning, the transport lurched, falling another ten meters. The steel cord, holding the sling, snapped from the jolt, dropping the sling the last four meters.
As Stratton rushed toward Victor, he saw that the doc’s eyes were closed tight, his jaw clenched. “It’s over, Doc. You’re on the ground. Now help me get the equipment inside.” Never had Victor moved so fast, as when he was unstrapped from the sling.
Within seconds, Stratton and Victor had grabbed the equipment and were making a run for the door. “Doc, we lost contact with the admiral four or five minutes ago. I heard him order Gena to turn his comm off. For right now, we will assume they are on the way up. Get your equipment set up inside, and if you see the team tell them to report to me. We’ll hold the line as long as we can.”
The battle scene was like a glimpse into the bowels of Hell. Walls seven meters in height, made from thousands of spider carcasses, encircled the perimeter—and yet the assault upon them was gaining intensity. The wall encroached upon them, growing ever closer with each new layer of dead spiders. The survivors scrambled in every direction, trying to wipe the sticky plasma off their charring bodies.
Stratton saw that high above, the spiders were spinning new web strings, racing to close the window the resonator had created, trapping the transport. “Follow your butts, guys. We need to go inside and regroup with the admiral.”
The three men slowly backed up. “Hey, Martinez, did you know that those ugly sons-of-bitches see sixteen of us?” said Cole.
“Hey, Cole, did you know that their noses are in their feet?” Martinez responded in kind.
Above the clamor, something captured Stratton’s attention. He could feel a soft vibration beating the ground in a rhythm. He recalled Steven’s warning about the tunnel. “Both of you make a run for the door! That’s an order!”
Cole turned. “They’re circling around behind us.” He sprayed plasma high on the wall of the red brick building.
On the front line, as if it were chasing them, a large sphere of spiders came rolling down the mountainous wall of dead remains.
“What the hell?” shouted Martinez.
Together, Cole and Martinez lit it up. The sphere burst apart, scattering the spiders in every direction. Gathering themselves, the spiders turned in perfect unison and rushed at the men.
Both men scoured the area before them with plasma, setting hundreds of spiders on fire. Like his team, Stratton, who had witnessed the new strategy, was speechless.
High above, a lightning bolt struck the ascending Dolphin transport. The transport pitched right, hitting a portion of the newly rebuilt crystalline ceiling, shattering it. Stratton watched Robbie fight against the wind, trying to regain control. “They do work fast,” said Stratton. The spiders had nearly managed to close the hole, until Robbie punched the vertical thrusters hard, crashing through it.
The air resonated with crackling, sizzling noises of electrical energy, ionizing it. A bolt of lightning snuck through the hole in the webbing, striking one of the already burning, abandoned cars on the street.
Though fire resistant, even the street now began to burn under the sustained onslaught.
Two
He could hear the explosions below. He could feel the heat and then just as suddenly a blast of freezing cold air, driven by the storm. He wasn’t trained for combat. Moreover, he was a timid man and without his even noticing it, he began to pee.
Stratt yelled to his team, “The doc’s coming. Push the spiders back, clear a spot for him.”
Cole and Moore moved forward, pushing the advancing line of spiders back.
“Robbie, twenty meters more,” said Stratt. “You’re right on target.”
Without warning, the transport lurched, falling another ten meters. The steel cord, holding the sling, snapped from the jolt, dropping the sling the last four meters.
As Stratton rushed toward Victor, he saw that the doc’s eyes were closed tight, his jaw clenched. “It’s over, Doc. You’re on the ground. Now help me get the equipment inside.” Never had Victor moved so fast, as when he was unstrapped from the sling.
Within seconds, Stratton and Victor had grabbed the equipment and were making a run for the door. “Doc, we lost contact with the admiral four or five minutes ago. I heard him order Gena to turn his comm off. For right now, we will assume they are on the way up. Get your equipment set up inside, and if you see the team tell them to report to me. We’ll hold the line as long as we can.”
The battle scene was like a glimpse into the bowels of Hell. Walls seven meters in height, made from thousands of spider carcasses, encircled the perimeter—and yet the assault upon them was gaining intensity. The wall encroached upon them, growing ever closer with each new layer of dead spiders. The survivors scrambled in every direction, trying to wipe the sticky plasma off their charring bodies.
Stratton saw that high above, the spiders were spinning new web strings, racing to close the window the resonator had created, trapping the transport. “Follow your butts, guys. We need to go inside and regroup with the admiral.”
The three men slowly backed up. “Hey, Martinez, did you know that those ugly sons-of-bitches see sixteen of us?” said Cole.
“Hey, Cole, did you know that their noses are in their feet?” Martinez responded in kind.
Above the clamor, something captured Stratton’s attention. He could feel a soft vibration beating the ground in a rhythm. He recalled Steven’s warning about the tunnel. “Both of you make a run for the door! That’s an order!”
Cole turned. “They’re circling around behind us.” He sprayed plasma high on the wall of the red brick building.
On the front line, as if it were chasing them, a large sphere of spiders came rolling down the mountainous wall of dead remains.
“What the hell?” shouted Martinez.
Together, Cole and Martinez lit it up. The sphere burst apart, scattering the spiders in every direction. Gathering themselves, the spiders turned in perfect unison and rushed at the men.
Both men scoured the area before them with plasma, setting hundreds of spiders on fire. Like his team, Stratton, who had witnessed the new strategy, was speechless.
High above, a lightning bolt struck the ascending Dolphin transport. The transport pitched right, hitting a portion of the newly rebuilt crystalline ceiling, shattering it. Stratton watched Robbie fight against the wind, trying to regain control. “They do work fast,” said Stratton. The spiders had nearly managed to close the hole, until Robbie punched the vertical thrusters hard, crashing through it.
The air resonated with crackling, sizzling noises of electrical energy, ionizing it. A bolt of lightning snuck through the hole in the webbing, striking one of the already burning, abandoned cars on the street.
Though fire resistant, even the street now began to burn under the sustained onslaught.
Two
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