Крип / Kryp: Отряд_3.16

Chapter 16

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 15:23

No, they were not wolves. The throat of a living creature of flesh and blood could hardly make such a sound. It sounded more like a long musical note that hung in the heavy, musty air, unwilling to stop. It was an unpleasant, ominous note, most suitable for accompanying a horror movie. This kind of 'music' made her want to drop everything, to hide under a rusty car, to pull her hood up. And clasping her eyes shut, not thinking about anything, just praying that the Emperor would protect her because there was no one else. Olga felt her hands trembling, not with a nasty little shiver, but for real, with her hands dancing like a guitarist with an invisible instrument.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 15:38

"Don't be afraid," the servitor said. "I will protect."

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 15:39

The cybernetic man himself inspired some confidence because of his ample size, but even more so because of his rugged multi-barrelled weapon. Fear of Bertha, as well as the thoroughness of Luct, made Olga twitch between the flamethrower and the servitor - more toward duty or safety.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 15:40

"Over there!" Bertha pointed to a doorway with the only hinge knocked out and sagging. "Take up defensive positions!"

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 15:42

"No!" exclaimed Fidus. It was as if he had concluded something important that could not be delayed.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 15:43

"Betrayer?" The Mentor's gawked, and the shotgun aimed right at the Inquisitor's nose. "You don't follow orders."

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:00

"It's a 'pocket'!" Fidus repeated the same incomprehensible and inappropriate word again. But now he explained. "Encapsulated area of space. A hiding place. A room to hide out in. Where you can't get in unless you have the right keys."

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:01

"So what?!" Bertha yelled, turning her head around in an attempt to calculate the exact direction of the future and inevitable attack. In vain.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:02

The sound was getting closer. The musical howl now reminded Olga of the zombie chorus from Dawn of the Dead. A single thousand-voiced shriek seemed to come from everywhere, closing in on the surroundings. In any case, the small squad was too exhausted to escape. Unless they abandoned all their equipment...

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:03

"You can't just get out of the 'pocket,'" Fidus chose his words hastily. "But it can be 'poisoned."

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:03

"What?!"

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:03

"This capsule is not only a space capsule but also a time capsule!" Kryp began to wave his hands tragically with an expression of despair on his dirty face. Apparently so he tried to convey the idea to his interlocutors in the most expressive and understandable way. "That's why it's so safe! But if you stick something unfamiliar into it, it will work like a metaphysical poison! The 'pocket' will begin to be poisoned!"

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:06

"I don't understand shit," the mentor said almost calmly as if to draw a line. "It's bullshit."

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:07

"What would it take to do that?" The Priest suddenly intervened in the hurried conversation.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:08

"Destroy," Kryp breathed out. "We'd be strangers here, and that's why the demonic thing wouldn't mess with us. We have to make ourselves even more unwanted. And pray that it works. If we hold our ground inside the house, we can hold out until we run out of ammo. And then that's it."

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:09

"Bullshit," the monk echoed Bertha's opinion, then thought a moment more and added. "But there's still no better plan."

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:15

The Priest exchanged a glance with Bertha, and they both nodded at each other.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:16

"Brothers and sisters!" the monk cried out. His throat sobbed and wheezed like a ruined speaker, making the preacher's cry sound particularly terrifying, like a trumpet voice coming from beyond. Perhaps from that very 'warp'.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:48

"It's bad enough that we're in deep shit! And even worse!"

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:52

/Optimistic,' thought Olga, surprisingly sensible and calm. - 'Father knows how to inspire.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:52

But the monk's words sounded somehow... blunt. And honest.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:54

And still no chicken out, my friends! - In some alien argo the Priest continued his mini-sermon. "Because if it's too bad it doesn't end there."

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 16:56

He thought for a moment and then repeated with unwavering confidence:

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 17:01

"No, it doesn't."

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 17:02

Olga, with the same detached calmness, realized that if now the pastor began to promise imminent salvation or bullshit about the mercy of the Emperor - that would be scary and helpless. But as it was, the Priest did not promise the impossible and was honest with his flock. Perhaps because he respected his colleagues too much in their difficult occupation and did not pour sweet water into their ears about obligatory salvation. And that was worth the price.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 17:07

The twilight was thickening, but the air itself exuded a putrid glow, replacing the light of the moon (which the Beacon didn't have anyway). In the unsteady, dancing shadows emerged hunched over figures, as if woven from little ashy whirlwinds. They howled in unison, in the same tone, but as if transmitting directly to their brains a boundless sadness and wicked sadness. Not like the house. The disembodied voice there was sad, too. Rather, it was like an angry, disembodied soul that had long since been disembodied and had been collecting hatred for the living for centuries. Hatred and thirst for warm blood.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 17:09

"Maybe we should go inside after all?" the monk asked curtly.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 17:10

"We'd rather burn ourselves there," said Bertрa reasonably, as she got into Kryp's idea. "And we need a big fire."

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 17:18

"Well... then... BURN!!!" the Priest roared like an atomic train siren.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 17:20

And they burn.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 17:20

A long tongue of bright yellow flame swept over our heads as Crybaby cranked the spray to full blast and pulled the trigger nonstop. The whirring of the mechanized suspension was lost against the almost animal roar with which the fire burst from the nozzle. As it hit the wet walls, the holy promethium hissed loudly, evaporating moisture and slippery mold. A moment later, the Sinner joined the Crybaby, and the two-barreled squad attempted to light the whole city on fire. Or part of it, hidden in a mysterious 'pocket'.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 17:22

The ghostly shadow lunged at the squad, barely touching the pavement with its feet as if the otherworldly creature weighted a feather. The creature made a strange hissing sound, but perhaps it was the humming sound of hot steam refracting between the walls. Olga was deafened again by the thunder of the Luct shotgun, and the charge turned the attacker into a jagged blotch, like a drop of ink in a glass of water. The 'blob' hung in the smoky air for a few moments, then melted into nothingness. It was replaced by more and more.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 17:24

"Ring! The ring of fire!" Bertha screamed. The flamethrowers roared, spewing flames.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 17:26

Olga did not look around, did not look up, and was afraid to look down, under her feet. She stared into the window of the pressure gauge on the cylinder behind Crybaby's back, shuddering at the shots from Luke's shotgun, which struck her ears with the evenness of a metronome and the force of a sledgehammer. Servitor, like a real combat robot, sprayed one by one the creatures that tried to break up the squad's formation. Very quickly the turret-shaped shotgunner was joined by Demetrius and Crip, who got a Mauser-like long-barreled pistol from somewhere. The good thing was that the gray ghosts would dissolve with just one bullet, so Demetrius put the submachine gun into single-shot mode and handled the weapon surprisingly deftly. The enemies, however, were not ending. They were pouring into the street from windows and alleys as if the cursed place itself were relentlessly generating them.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:06

Almost everyone except the flamethrowers, the Priest and Olga had some other pistols, so the team shot back vigorously. The balloonist had already partially lost her hearing and paid no attention to the servitor's shots. The black arrow on the white dial of the pressure gauge was creeping toward the end of the scale, marked by a strip of scarlet.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:07

"Where's the acid?!" Bertha yelled. Her voice was so high-pitched that even Olga, who was half deaf, sat down, wrinkling painfully.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:07

"It won't help!" The monk yelled, straining at his torn throat. "We'll die from the fumes! The masks are all gone!"

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:24

The Mentor growled unintelligibly as she reloaded the combi-shotgun. Bertha had just kept her respirator.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:27

"Execute!" the Mentor promised. "Every other one! Loss of government property, violation of regulations and Statutes! I'll burn them in front of the ranks, you bastards!"

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:29

"The threat multiplies," the servitor repeated monotonously. "The threat is multiplying, it can't be counted."

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:30

Another shadow hovered in a long, slow leap, aiming again somewhere in the middle of the group. Crip took down his adversary with one shot and blew the blob apart with a second bullet, just in case, before the ghostly jets descended on Crybaby's head. Smoke and fire kept increasing, so the enemies couldn't break through the curtain of fire, and so they changed tactics. Now they attacked from the upper floors and rooftops, planning like flying squirrels.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:34

"More fire! More!" Bertha commanded, and in her voice, perhaps for the first time, there was a note of underlying fear and hopelessness.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:35

Walls, rusty car wrecks, benches that had fallen into themselves, caught fire badly - a lot of water, a lot of molds. But the infernal mixture of promethium and reagents stuck to everything like syrup, first the fire evaporated the water, and then cheerfully devoured the dried fuel. Even the peeling paint caught fire, spewing streams of black smoke and flakes of soot. Gray-white clouds of steam rose to the dead, motionless sky. It must have been beautiful from the outside-the brightest torch, shimmering red and yellow and orange, the only spot of light in the eternal twilight. The hot flames seemed to be beating the sullen gloom to death, and the desperate battle was at an unsteady point of equilibrium where neither side could prevail.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:36

The arrow on the pressure gauge hit the limiter pin, and Crybaby's flamethrower hissed and emitted a couple of drops of flame retardant for good measure. All that was left was the bluish glow of the ignition torch. Olga only now thought that it would be better to remove the spare cylinder in advance, and her hands were already performing a memorized and repeatedly practiced sequence of actions. Open the spring locks-holders in the machine behind the flamethrower's back, yank the empty cylinder, allowing gravity to drop it. In time to get her foot out from under the heavy metal. Then the bearer got tangled up in the harness and couldn't move the spare tank quickly from behind her back.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:38

Everyone seemed to be yelling, and personally at her. If the girl had had a pair of spare hands, she would have clamped her ears shut, because the savage screams penetrated even through the absorbent cotton of partial deafness. But as it was, Olga only clenched her teeth and twisted inhumanly, tearing either the tarpaulin straps or the overalls, or her skin and all together. At any rate, there was a crunch and a stab of pain under her ribs, closer to her back, as if some ligament had been torn. A stuck 'cradle' with a cylinder, which looked like a frame backpack, moved to my shoulder, and then broke off completely. It turned out that the carrier had broken not a rib, but a clasp that looked like a fastener.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:39

Olga lifted the bulky cylinder with the flammability badge in her arms so easily, as if she were carrying not nearly thirty kilograms, but a light cushion. Slide it in, secure it with the hook, click the locks. Crybaby stood all the while, crouching a little for the comfort of her short helper. And was silent, perhaps the only one in the squad. Either he believed in Olga, or on the contrary, did not expect anything from her. The girl felt herself in tears - it was very, very scary, and the acrid smoke burned her unprotected eyes.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:40

Connect the hose, turn the coupling five turns, no more and no less, or the connection will be loose or the worn thread will break. Fuel can go out, leaking in droplets before the first spark. And there were enough sparks. The squad surrounded itself in a ring of fire, becoming the center of a man-made fire. It was getting hard to breathe, even harder than before, to be exact. The dead air tasted like lead and settled in my lungs, like volcanic ash, cementing the alveoli.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:41

"Fire! Fire!"

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:40

Someone yelled in a deaf ear and seemed to be punching the girl on the shoulder. Olga bit her lip until it bled and lost count of how many clutches turns there were. According to the instructions in such cases, it was required to immediately unscrew everything to zero and repeat according to the instructions, strictly on five, regardless of the circumstances and conditions. Because the explosion of the cylinder could easily kill everyone. Olga bit her lip even harder and decided that the Emperor was with her, and if not, let the team have some luck. And she did not change anything.

Camrad_RIP 23.11.21 в 18:43