Caught in the numerous immuno-beasts that came to him on multiple fronts, he could only hear, while aimed with precision and fired a barrage of bullets at equal speeds to each targets.
"Do you copy?!" A male voice tone escaped from the audio radio.
"I copy," Ben said, glad for the comms sudden return.
The camera turret also revitalised, protruding its head upwards to scan the area. What it saw — what the people from the surface saw — was death. The death of the immuno-beasts: lifeless bodies, shot and wounded with several bullet holes, blood dripping, eyes cold to the touch; they lie on the ground unmoved from which they were taken down.
Seeing the killed immuno-beasts infront of him on the big monitor didn't quite spill a glass of water. The Director stood firm and strong keeping his emotions in-check so as not to get to the level of them. The conservationists. The extremists type. Sure he too was a conversationalist, but as Director, someone who has to take the role of the head of the organisation with all responsibilities and accountability as well as the other suggestions he gets, didn't mean he had to act the role model for eternity. He was an experienced and self driven, self motivated man. He knew it. What he decides comes from him, and only him; with a little bit gut feeling to spice it up.
This doesn't look good, he thought.
There were those in the tents that felt sympathic towards the immuno-beasts from the looks of it, even if they don't know the full context. It was a handful that felt this way, most shrugged it off and paid their attention to the situation occuring as of now with only seconds left on the clock, the immuno-beasts, counted in hundreds to thousands, rushing to Ben's position.
"Put me on speaker," the Director hurriedly told the male technician for an audience with Ben.
"Listen closely Ben," the Director began, "There's little time to explain, so I'll keep it short: Thousands of immuno-beasts are headed your way and they don't seem to be stopping. You have to exit through the Myfecta's flush. The sooner — the better!"
Without a word, hearing those words from the Director say, consciously warning of an incoming doom, Ben reacted swiftly and directedly went for it.
He ran.
The audio from the radio continued.
"...The immuno-beasts caught up to the box!" The Director yelled, his voice prevalent in his tone. As he watched the thousands of immuno-beasts pass the box, though some were leaning in, the Director said to the male technician in his most outspoken-and-very-loud tone, "INCREASE RS INSTRUMENT TO MAX!"
The male technician didn't mention a word. He just went with the flow as if he didn't have a choice to decide on what action to process. What the Director told him that instant, he hesitated less and raised the bar higher.
Ben was running at max speed. Behind was the immuno-beasts attracted to him like a flock of birds following a trail of bread crumbs (only faster and menacing) showing no stop whatsoever to the pursuit.
Arms swinging, legs racing, heart throbbing like a thunderstorm in a looping circle was endearing for the long run. How long could he keep the pace going on? These immuno-beasts were relentless. They didn't stop to rest. They didn't have an individual sense of reasoning:; they operated as a collective, info sharing, info gathering, bio-organic information — on a cellular level — of flesh and bones.
He turned his head around to see with own very eyes how far he is. His eyes blinked. The immuno-beasts were.....slowing down?
Ben slowed his tracks with a slippery slide on foot — Kkzzzzz. His radio spoke. "RS exposure is at higher levels! It won't last long, you have to run! DOUBLE TIME!"
From the looks of it, the radio was right. The immuno-beasts were changing their directions, retreating. Instead of going after Ben, they switched to their behind and sped as loyal as a dog.
Well, most of them did anyways.
One or two immuno-beasts stayed behind. Firstly they were decided whether to follow the pack and retreat, heads turning left and right, eyes gleaming reddish until furrowed.
You're kidding, thought Ben as he saw the remainder of the immuno-beasts took smaller steps; getting ready for whenever he may flinch. He acted and with a swoop of his legs he dashed.
Detecting movements like eyes of an eagle, the immuno-beasts increased the pace at which they were currently at from smaller steps to a bigger leap and, for only these two, continued relentless-hungry-vicious pursuit.
In about ten seconds to countdown as the horde of immuno-beasts rushed at the box approximately a sooner than expected range, other immuno-beasts that were beside the box began to attack: from head first bashing, sharp and hardened jaws crunching metal frames, and severe claw marks scratching the mere surface.....5, 4, 3, 2 — and when the horde reached the box — 0. BOOOMM! A shockwave erupted from the RS instrument. It echoed throughout the box causing the immuno-beasts close by to be swept by the immense force and pushing them far from the box, landing abruptly. The same shockwave reached the ears of Ben. He heard it. The immuno-beasts that pursued him heard it, too.
Swimming in the expanding ocean waters, the Myfecta didn't ignore the explosion happening with its insides. It wailed in the waters — sound deafening crys shoot all directions: even the surface, the humans hearing the similarity between a sperm whale and a blue whale. Mouth open-wide and ocean water rushed to the bottom. Water splashing and water thrashing.
The waves couldn't have come at a later time.
There lied the edge of the road, a dead-end, though not really one as the road continued still....at a lower elevation. He swallowed his fears, looked to it and sped, his legs put to the test as he nervously doubled.
To the very edge, he jumped. Leaping high.
The immuno-beasts followed second, the rapid rush of water third. But the water — faster than the rest — was much unpredictable. Was he gonna make it to the other side alive without the water taking him with it or the immuno-beasts catching him in the process?! The outcomes were unpredicted.
It was a matter of chance.