The alarm siren bounced off the walls of Julia’s small room, searing her eardrums and she started awake with a deep twisting knot of pain in her belly. Her sheets were tangled between her legs, her fists clutching the edge of the mattress in hot knots.

After months of silence, the alarm blaring for the second time in two days was extremely bad news. She drew stuffy air into her lungs, breathing out slowly in an attempt to ease her racing heart. Only moments before, she’d been drowning, suffocating as deep icy water deadened her frantic limbs. Her hand flew to her throat, the warm beat of her pulse confirming she was alive and not trapped in the landscape of her dreams.

She checked the illuminated dial of her watch as the alarm continued to wail in an excruciating loop. It was after one in the morning. She rolled out of bed, already clothed, and grabbed her loaded SIG Sauer from the metal locker beside her bed.

Her brain noted the empty, rumpled sheets she left behind. Alone again.

She hit the corridor running, stuffing the handgun into the back of her trousers. The air outside her room was cool, and a wave of goosebumps swooped up her arm. Her stomach contracted with fear as she collided with the stream of people hustling to the muster points for the second time in as many nights. Faces pushed past, pale with anxiety. Bleary-eyed individuals were still pulling on clothes. One harried woman bumped Julia, a crying toddler clutched in her arms. Julia watched her go, unable to comprehend what it must be like trying to survive with young children right now.

She instinctively headed deeper into the base, on course for the central stairwell connecting the basement to the rest of the complex. Skidding round a sharp corner, she almost ran into Sawyer and Garrick running from the communications room.

Sawyer’s face was grim. “Basement again.”

Shit.

The men kept running, and she followed the solidity of their backs, her feet barely touching the steps as she descended the stairs. The rail was cold and steely under her fingers, reminding her she was still alive and how hard she’d worked to remain so.

As she pushed through the heavy fire exit at the bottom of the stairwell, Violet and Foster were already at the entrance to the basement. Violet’s pulse rifle was slung over her back, her MP5 jutting in front of her as she paused at the door. Foster yanked it open with a grimace of dogged determination.

“Twice is too much,” Julia muttered under her breath, trying not to think about the twisted taps she’d seen earlier.

That had been the warning. What if they’d been too slow to realize what it really meant? God, she hoped not. Anxiety compressed her lungs, restricting the flow of oxygen. She inhaled forcefully, dragging reluctant air into her body.

Abruptly, the wail of the alarm stopped. She glanced upward at the now-silent units. What now?

The lights cut out and darkness cloaked her leaving her effectively blind. She blinked furiously, desperate to discern anything in the suffocating blackness. She clenched the metal bar of the fire door like her life depended on it.

Relief swamped her in a hot wave as Sawyer yanked the basement door open and secured it open, the blue wash of emergency lighting from the basement highlighting the flex of his shoulders.

Julia’s throat constricted, exacerbating her fluttering panic. She didn’t want to go in, but the light-absorbing darkness behind her was equally unwelcoming. Sawyer caught her wide-eyed gaze and threw her a reassuring smile. He had her back, always. He stretched out his hand, but she dismissed him with the tiniest shake of her head.

I can do this on my own.

Sawyer waited. As she stepped into the basement he followed, his weapon raised, so close the heat from his body soaked into her skin.

Foster and Violet stood near the ghostly hulk of the coolant machinery, their faces alert and strained.

Hardy careened out of the gloom from the stairwell. “What the hell’s going on?”

Violet gestured toward the vast room. “Lights are out. Power’s failing. We’ve done a sweep and the lower platform’s clear.”

“I’m done with coincidence.” Garrick strode into the room flicking off the safety on his weapon. “Julia, can you check the coolant systems again.”

He took her hand to guide her, but she jerked backward.

Damaged taps submerged in asphyxiating water flashed across her mind’s eye.

Garrick stalled, his grey eyes concerned. Julia’s gaze flicked from his face, over his shoulder toward the hidden water, and back again.

He squeezed her shoulder and hurried past. “Foster, let’s get this damn alarm switched off so we can hear ourselves think.”

Sawyer replaced Garrick, his palm grazing the space between her shoulder blades. His touch calmed her, the quiet energy he exuded permeating the thin cotton of her t-shirt. Without a word he pushed gently, and she was moving again.

“I’m here. Anything is going to have to come through me first.” His voice was a soft rumble in her ear. She nodded and swallowed, scooping the SIG from her waistband with damp, trembling hands.

Ahead, Violet hustled out from behind the silent plant equipment. Hardy joined her as she swung her weapon toward the ceiling, meticulously pacing out the space, sweeping high and low.

The alarm suddenly muted and the rush of water rose from the far corners of the cavernous room, filling the void the screeching wail had vacated. Weapons clicked and loaded as the team spread out under the continuing sweep of blue light. No one spoke, their bodies taut with tension.

The protective warmth of Sawyer’s hand left Julia’s back, leaving a cool spot. He walked close to her side, their hips bumping. She glanced up at him, and he smiled back, his face relaxed and easy. Julia let him lead her across the expanse of concrete to the back of the vaulted room. She heard voices on the far side, where Hardy and Violet were hidden from view.

Her pulse skittered and jumped at the base of her throat. Above her, the shadows danced and swept, their flashlights brightening a corner for one second only to plunge it into darkness in the next. It was disorientating and unsettling. Nausea contorted in her belly and her skin tingled.

Garrick rounded one of the computer banks, beckoning with two of his fingers. Julia followed him around to the plant mainframe, about fifteen feet from the barrier that separated the room from the water below.

He pointed with the snub-nose of his weapon, his eyes scanning the room in wired alertness. “Everything’s off-line again.”

Julia nodded. This she could do. Her training shifted a few gears in her mind, pushing the paralyzing fear to one side and allowing her to concentrate. She pulled out the keypad that ran the plant systems.

Sawyer took a defensive position behind her, his back against hers, covering her with his body. She had to get the power back up and running fast. They were sitting ducks with no power, blind and deaf in the dark.

Her fingers flew over the keypad, bringing up strings of numbers and letters. A rotating bevel appeared on the screen as the computer considered her request. She bit down a surge of anger. The systems were old, and there was nothing she could do but wait.

Sawyer turned and peered over her shoulder, the angles of his face illuminated in rhythmic pulses, his breath warm on her neck. She focused on the sensation of him next to her, alive in the darkness.

The keyboard beeped, and she glanced down.

The computer had refused her access. She squinted in the light, pushing her glasses firmly to the bridge of her nose.

Damn.

She’d already used the emergency access codes, and it still wasn’t letting her in. Her fingers were a blur as she tried different combinations.

A loud clatter behind made her start, her fingers scattering across the keyboard in surprise.

Sawyer squeezed her shoulder. “Just Fox.”

Julia ran her hand threw her hair and dipped her head again mouthing choice four-letter words.

Maybe the link is so intrinsically broken it needs to be fixed manually.

She looked across to the rail that marked the descent to the water below. What if it’s a physical problem with the cabling in the water?

General Gerard Fox huffed around the corner, his scant hair sticking up and his eyes puffy from sleep. Fox was the head of the CB, one of the original survivors. Julia had only crossed his path a few times and her contact with him had been minimal. He wasn’t a scientist, and despite the track record of the Sweeper prototype, he remained skeptical about its future.

He acknowledged Sawyer and Julia with the smallest jerk of his head and stormed past to the edge of the railing and leaned over. “What in damnation’s going on? People are evacuating. Where the hell is Garrick?”

Garrick loped out of the darkness, his hand flat against the handle of his machete. “Fox.”

Fox turned, outlined in blue light, his back to the open water.

Garrick’s tone was measured. “Julia’s accessing the plant diagnostics now. We’ve swept the basement. It’s clear.”

As Garrick spoke, Julia registered movement in the oscillating light against the rock wall, on the far side of the water.

Was that flicker the alarm?

A tight band of pain constricted her temples.

There it is again.

Fox spoke to her, but she didn’t register what he said. Words passed through her brain as irrelevant noise.

Movement.

She focused on the oscillating blackness behind him.

Black. Blue. Shadows and rock again.

“Dr. Simmons?”

Again.

Julia sidestepped Fox and his irritating nasal voice. She scrutinized the darkness.

This time, when the alarm light flashed, there was no doubting what she saw.

Rising from the surface, oily, black water cascading from its body in a malevolent waterfall, was a Chittrix.