Halo_ Evolutions - Essential Tales of the Halo Universe - Eric Nylund [136]
“Reload!”
The voice in her headset made her start. They were in radio range, oh at last!
“MacCraw!”
“Benti!” A pause and gunfire before the sarge spoke again. “Who you got?”
“Clarence.” She didn’t look at him or Henry. “And a couple of survivors. One deck to go.”
“Get your butt into gear; that ice cream isn’t gonna wait.”
“Yes, sir!” She’d never been so happy to be told to hustle. She turned to grin at Clarence.
It leapt out of the corridor before she could check. Something rabid smashed into her shoulder and threw her against the wall, so fast, all the air knocked out of her, head flung back knocked hard, the shock not enough to crowd out a terrible waft of rank decay and a moan that came from no human throat. Keep your eyes open, always keep your eyes open, her medic training kicking in, and her eyes were open, and she recognized Sydney, what was Sydney, before Clarence stepped between it and her, shot it, kept shooting it, never lifted his finger from the trigger, not even when it stopped moving.
Sydney. How could you do that to me?
She drew a breath in. Let it out. In. Out.
When Clarence looked at her, she knew it was bad. She could see it in his eyes. She couldn’t feel her arm; it hung too low on her lap, sleeve already saturated. Her eyes focused on the rifle in his hands. Orlav. Gersten.
You wouldn’t, she thought. You might.
Henry scooped her up in one arm, tucked her up against his chest, pushed past Clarence, and kept going.
>Lopez 1622 hours
Benti, alive. The voice had conjured up such relief for Lopez, adding a bead or two back onto the rosary. Conjured up images from a world that seemed so distant. The Red Horse. On leave, singing in a karaoke bar, getting blind drunk, picking up men, telling her how to smile properly. Did any of that exist anymore? Had it ever existed?
The airlock was miraculously vacant, but it wouldn’t be for long. Benti and Clarence were approaching from aft. They’d jammed the forward hatch behind them, using pieces of shelving from a barricade that hadn’t held the first time. Only one direction to watch now. Then jiggered the manual controls. Both were ready to go.
“Two pods,” MacCraw said, checking the time. “Two of us, some of them. What are we going to do?”
Lopez didn’t answer. What could she answer? Yeah, kid, we’ve still got some tough decisions.
Instead she said, “Benti’s taking her sweet time.”
“It’s those short legs.” MacCraw checked the time again. “Sarge . . .” The strain in his voice said everything. Let’s get the hell out already.
“Sarge!” Benti gasped over the radio, the signal good and strong. “Sarge, we’re coming, don’t shoot, oh please don’t—”
A flashlight jagged about, coming down the corridor, the figures behind it resolving.
“Covenant!” MacCraw shouted, down on one knee and finger tightening on the trigger.
“Don’t shoot!” Benti’s voice.
There, suddenly: a Covenant Elite sprinting down the corridor, assault rifle in one hand, cricket bat in the other, and Benti slung over his arm like an errant child.
Not even the craziest thing Lopez had seen all day. Didn’t register at first that Benti might be hurt.
“It’s okay! Sarge!” The panic in Benti’s voice didn’t make sense. “Henry’s okay! Don’t shoot!”
Henry? Lopez didn’t lower her weapon. “MacCraw, do not take your finger off that trigger!”
The Elite Benti had called Henry slowed, eyeing them warily. Closer now, she could see Benti’s shirt and pants soaked red, her arm tucked into her vest, bone jutting from her shoulder. Benti’s other hand gripping this Henry’s thumb for dear life. Behind the Elite, Clarence and one human survivor in prison clothes.
Somewhere behind them, not yet visible, the deep unnatural choir of the Flood, like a physical presence. Sounded like they’d brought the whole ship in their wake.
“What’s this Covie bastard