Zeke experienced a strange compulsion to examine the dead bodies of the types up close, but Splat stopped him by grabbing his wrist, while doing the same to Frankie’s. The others left them behind to surround the enormous cement mixer, which was merrily churning as Habib dragged it along.
“Can they really just pour cement down the hole to stop them?” said Zeke.
“Obviously, that’s not enough material to block the hole completely. But it’s enough to obstruct the passage. Depends on the shape of the drain. Also, it’s a special compound mixture. Has tiny shards of glass in, which rips their skin if they try to crawl past it.”
Zeke nodded in approval. “Shall we run through the explosives drills?” He was becoming adept at building a range of incendiary bombs under Splat’s tutorage, and wanted to impress him by being able to build them equally well in the outside world.
Splat grinned and dropped to his knees to open the large metal box he’d wheeled behind him. The black metal casing snapped over to reveal a plethora of colourful canisters, wires, and small electronic devices. “Okay, show Frankie you can set up a timed-fuse IED.”
Zeke started about completing Splat’s request, knowing the process by rote by this point, his eyes occasionally darting over to the rest of the squad. Every small noise from the trees spooked him, and a particularly loud gust of wind almost caused him to drop his creation onto the ground.
“Watch this for a second,” said Splat, and Zeke looked up as the rest of the team positioned the cement mixer next to the drain. Habib and Vitt dragged it into the final position and tilted it downwards, funnelling the gloopy substance into the gaping hole.
“What’s going on with the drone, Splat?” said Frankie.
Zeke’s eyes shot up, and he dropped the half-finished bomb back into the kit box. Their drone was bouncing wildly in the air, like a rubber ball on steroids. The blades came dangerously close to hitting Meredith in the face.
“What the hell are you doing, Splat?” Meredith shouted, through the audio feed.
“It’s not me!”
“The thing is going to take a finger off if you don’t sort it out.”
Splat grumbled under his breath as he fiddled with the controls. The drone collided with Savannah’s helmet with an audible crack.
“Owww!” she said, jumping backwards.
Zeke tuned in to the drone’s camera feed. The panicked faces of Squad E as the drone hurtled towards them would have been hilarious if they weren’t in a life-threatening environment.
“Shut it down!” came Noah’s startled cry.
“It’s glitched! The software has frozen. You need to manually turn it off like I did last time. Sort it out before it damages itself. If we break another one, we’re screwed.”
“There’s no way I’m catching that thing,” said Savannah. The drone floated above her head for a few moments before dropping to whack against her helmet again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Splat threw down most of his gear. “Stay here,” he said, already sprinting away from them.
Frankie, wearing a slight smirk, turned to Zeke. “I can’t wait to rewatch this later.”
Zeke squinted over at the squad. “What’s going on now?”
Noah was in front of Splat, one hand on his hip, one hand gesturing wildly.
“Is he shouting at him?” Frankie replied. “What—” She broke off with a gasp. Beyond the rest of Squad E, a flock of birds flurried away from a nearby tree. Six more typeAs materialised from nowhere. They charged towards the group, arms sprawling out, as if they were about to hug them, not rip their heads off. Noah and the others, distracted by the still misbehaving drone and Noah’s argument with Splat, were slow to react. A cacophony of panicked shouts and orders came through the audio feed.
Zeke grabbed Frankie’s arm. “Should we shoot?”
“I don’t kn—”
A strangled cry replaced Frankie’s voice as her arm was ripped from his grasp. Her crossbow tumbled to the floor, landing by his feet. He turned to find Frankie frantically struggling out of the grip of two typeBs. They were working as a team, one on each side, gripping her arms firmly as they dragged her towards the bushes.
Fuck.
“Zeke!” Frankie cried, lurching herself back towards him. Her feet fought for purchase on the stony ground.
Fixed in position, his eyes glued themselves to Frankie’s receding body.
“Bates!” came Vitt’s urgent voice through the audio feed.
