Kyle rocketed through the room that he had waited in earlier with Sykes and his team. He didn’t slow his pace for a second, tearing through the room toward the door that led to the deck.
He burst into the crisp air like a bullet fired from a high-powered rifle, travelling at a velocity that he hadn't believed his legs to be capable of.
Sullivan's security team—as utterly useless as they were surly—were still clustered around the chopper, waiting nonchalantly for the scientist to return with the precious cargo they had been told to escort back to the Conqueror. Judging from the expressions on their faces, they felt very little of the fear that had gripped the people inside the ship. If anything, Kyle thought, they looked bored. The realisation made him feel strangely furious.
Kyle closed the distance between himself and the chopper in what felt like a few enormous strides, and saw the stoic masks on the soldiers' faces crack, just a little. Presumably the terror that pulsed in his mind was written clearly enough on his face to unnerve even them.
"We have to go," he gasped as he neared them.
A large hand materialised in front of his chest and put a sudden halt to his momentum.
"Hold up, Sport. Go where? Where's Sanderson?"
Kyle shook his head, struggling to draw in the breath required to provide an answer.
"It's free," he panted. "It's out. We have to go."
"The fuck are you jabbering about, boy?"
"It's free!" Kyle screamed. "Don't you understand? Do you even know what's on this fucking ship?"
Kyle saw a sliver of doubt pierce the soldier's confident gaze, and understanding hit him so hard that he found all he could do was laugh. He was bordering on hysteria, but it felt like the only sane response.
Sullivan hadn't told them anything either. Project Wildfire wasn’t just built on lies and secrets. It was built on a rock-solid foundation of omitted facts and diligent ignorance. It was no wonder the world at large hadn’t had a clue what Chrysalis Systems was planning: even the people involved knew nothing.
Before he could begin to frame words that he hoped might persuade the security team that a goddamned monster was coming for them, the crackle of gunfire ripped through the misty air and did the job for him.
He saw the soldier's gaze flick across the deck in surprise. The entire team hoisted their weapons as one, pressing them into their collarbones and staring down the sights. It was a smoothly-practised manoeuvre that at any other time might just have engendered a feeling of safety in Kyle; a sense that these were trained guys who could handle any situation thrown at them.
The trouble was that Kyle knew what was coming and knew that bullets might as well be balloons for all the damage they did to the creature. The soldiers readying themselves like characters in some dumb action movie simply looked ridiculous to him.
You’re all going to die.
"Stay here," the soldier growled, and motioned at the others to follow him. They crept forward as one, heading for the ship’s small superstructure, their weapons trained on the door in front of them.
Kyle watched them go in stunned disbelief.
He turned to face the chopper and hauled open the door to the cockpit, staring pleadingly at the pilot. He received a grimace and a shake of the head in return.
"Not moving without orders, mate," the pilot said.
Kyle seethed in frustration and despair.
Behind him, he heard one of the soldiers cry out in surprise and span on his heel to see Tom sprinting from the door, making for the chopper at top speed. Somewhere behind Tom, Kyle heard another eruption of gunfire. Another scream.
How many is that now?
Kyle had lost count, but he had a feeling that Sykes’ entire team was gone.
Which meant the mutation had only one place left to go. One person left to follow.
Tom.
Kyle couldn’t understand what had taken Tom so long. He should have reached the chopper long before Kyle did.
“Run!” Kyle screamed, aware even as he did so that Tom didn’t need encouragement. His brother’s eyes were wide with terror, and he clutched the assault rifle like a security blanket as he ran.
When Tom was close enough that Kyle could hear him whimpering in fear—a sound that reminded him starkly of being back in the van with Volkov—Kyle ripped the gun from his brother's hands and pushed Tom into the belly of the chopper.
Once Tom was inside, Kyle leapt into the cockpit next to the pilot and jammed the barrel of the assault rifle into his neck.
"Now you've got your orders," he snarled.
*
Jake burst onto the deck just as the chopper lifted into the sky. He saw a group of humans dashing toward it, screaming for it to come back and laughed.
Some of the humans would get away, but it mattered little. The helicopter headed east as it moved away from the ship, and thanks to the dead scientist, Jake knew exactly what lay to the east. He had a feeling he would see the chopper again.
The group of soldiers turned to face him, putting all their faith in the weapons they clutched in trembling fingers.
Jake plucked the guns from their grasp before they could begin to squeeze the triggers, and he tore their soft bodies apart with ruthless efficiency. The ship was deserted now, and out on the deck, away from the hollering of the siren, he found himself able to think clearly at last.
Only one thought ran through his mind; burning brightly.
Sullivan.
Before the ruined bodies of the soldiers had even finished tumbling to the deck, Jake launched himself into the sea, clawing his way through the water, moving like a torpedo.
Heading east.