Dead Mech (46 page)

“Alright. Masters?” Marin called.

“Yeah. Whatcha need?” Masters responded.

“When we hit the button, every zombie in our
way will go down. We’ve got a laser cowcatcher in front that can
handle the bodies. I need you to make sure there aren’t any
transports on the tracks. Otherwise we are fucked.”

“No problem,” Masters said.

“What the hell is a cow?” the Rookie asked.
The others stared at him blankly. “Boiler, remember? Education
wasn’t a priority.”

“The cow goes mooo, kid,” Masters jibed over
the com.

***

“How do you not know what a cow is?” Jay
asked double checking the sonic disc’s systems.

“Fuck you Rind!” the Rookie responded over
the com. “I’ve heard of them, but no one has ever explained what
they are.”

“You’ve never seen a picture?” Jay asked,
enjoying the ribbing the Rookie was getting. “Not even when you
were in Foggy Bottom?”

“I was more concerned with the fight cage
than flipping through fucking picture books,” the Rookie said
annoyed. “Have
you
ever seen one?”

“Of course not! They’ve been extinct for
hundreds of years. But I know what one is!”

***

“They are in sight!” Jenny shouted.

“Stay calm. Just keep your eye on the
controls,” Timson said. “Jay, everything ready?”

“Yep, just wait for my mark,” Jay
responded.

“Gotcha,” the Rookie said.

“I’m out front and ready to clear some
tracks,” Masters joined in.

“We’ve been spotted. Several transports are
turning about,” Jenny announced.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there,” Marin
said.

An alarm sounded and Jenny gasped. “They’re
locking missiles!”

“Jay? We’re kinda pushing it here!” Timson
said urgently.

“Just hold on! Wait for it… Wait… NOW!” Jay
ordered.

The Rookie activated the disc and they all
felt the pressure.

***

From his vantage point high above, Masters
watched in astonishment as the sonic blast spread out and the
deaders fell.

“Hot damn!” he crowed. “I’m shooting you the
vid feed. Check that out. I hope that cow catcher works, because
the tracks are now littered with downed deaders.”

“Oh, it works,” Marin responded. “You just
take care of the transports.”

In two easy strides, Masters/Stomper was at
the first transport. The mech lifted the vehicle easily and tossed
it out of the way, far into the wasteland.

“Is this like playing with toys?” Stomper
asked.

“Hell yeah!” Masters responded
enthusiastically.

***

“So what am I doing?” Themopolous asked,
sitting down at the mini-mech controls.

“Really? Not a whole lot.” Jethro said.
“Just watch the vid feed and make sure he doesn’t get into any
trouble.”

“He?” Themopolous asked with a smile.

“He. It. Whatever. I’m a mechanic. I
anthropomorphize my toothbrush!”

“So, what kind of trouble am I looking
for?”

“Mainly dead mechs, Ranchers or other UDC.
If you see that then I need to take
it
out of auto-drive and
put
it
into battle mode.”

“It can fight on its own?”

“Not well, it’s really just a prelude to
self-destruct.”

***

“Holy shit! I missed this!” Capreze
hollered. “I forgot about the power!” He slammed his fist into
another transport and opened fire with his plasma cannon, cooking
everything inside, living and undead, to a crisp. “Fuck yeah!”

“Careful there, Mr. Cocky,” Rachel warned.
“Watch your backside. You’ve got two transports coming around at
you.”

Capreze lifted the scorched transport before
him, spun and tossed the burning husk at the attacking transports.
Both of the vehicles expertly swerved out of the way and
accelerated. Capreze’s eyes widened as six missiles launched and
rocketed towards him.

“Um, a little help,” he pleaded.

***

“Dammit Papa Bear!” Rachel cursed, trying to
crush, burn and blast as many zombies as possible. “Get your shit
together!”

Capreze closed his eyes, centering his
thoughts.

“Papa Bear? You There?” Rachel called,
concern tingeing her voice.

“Yeah, Baby Girl. Just getting my shit
together,” the Commander answered. “Remembering my place.”

Capreze glanced at his weapons systems and
grinned. “Did I ever tell you I was the best fucking shot in the
wasteland when I was your age?”

“Not sure this is the time for stories of
the Old Days,” Rachel responded.

“How about I
show
you then?” Capreze
smiled.

***

“Transfer weapons control to my seat,
Deacon! Do it now!” Archbishop Wyble ordered. “I grow tired of
these heathens!”

“I have, Your Holiness,” Montoya
responded.

“Of course you did, Montoya,” Wyble said,
settling himself and bringing up the transport’s weapons control
system. “Now, let’s wreak glorious vengeance upon these
devils.”

The Archbishop activated missile targeting.
He centered his crosshairs upon Harlow, took careful aim and
fired.

“Hallelujah!” he cried, watching the
projectile speed towards its target. “And God said, ‘Let There Be
Death!’”

“He did, Your Holiness?” Montoya asked,
confused.

“I’m the Archbishop! God says whatever I say
he says!”

***

Proximity claxons blared in Harlow’s
cockpit. “FUCK!” she yelled, watching the Archbishop’s missile
rocket towards her. She kicked a handful of zombies at the missile,
hoping to knock it off course, but they bounced off the metal shell
without any effect. “Shit!”

Looking for the closet transport, she pushed
her mech as fast as she could, hoping that timing would be on her
side. Plasma bursts impacted her mech’s exoskeleton adding new
warning sounds to her cockpit’s already cacophonous alarms. The
smell of scorched metal told her she took more damage than she
liked, but she pushed past it, determined.

***

“Um, Your Holiness?” Deacon Montoya warned.
“The trajectory of the missile…”

“Hush, Montoya! I am trying to savor the
moment!” the Archbishop barked.

“But, sir, the transport…” But, Montoya
couldn’t finish as Wyble leapt to his feet and smacked the Deacon
upside the head, knocking the man’s head back, making him lose
control of the transport for a moment.

“SIR?!? I AM THE ARCHBISHOP!” Wyble screamed
directly into Montoya’s ear. “You will address me as such at all
times!”

The Deacon slowly reached up and rubbed his
face, keeping his eyes averted. “My apologies, Your Holiness. The
heat of battle.”

***

Harlow leapt over the Rancher transport. She
could hear her hydraulics groan as she executed an aerial spin,
twisting her mech about, opening fire on the incoming missile with
her 50mms. For a split second she thought she missed and was more
alarmed at that mistake than of being blown to pieces. But, all
thoughts of ego left her as the missile exploded when the large
caliber rounds found their mark.

She tucked her mech’s legs and rolled as she
hit the ground on the other side of the transport, letting the
Rancher vehicle shield her from the missile’s detonation.

***

The Archbishop fumed as he watched Harlow
manage to both avoid and detonate the missile he had fired. “That
metal heathen will pay,” he hissed.

“Your Holiness? We have four transports
destroyed and two crippled,” Deacon Montoya reported reluctantly,
expecting more of the Archbishop’s anger to be taken out on
him.

“What about our reinforcements?” the
Archbishop asked angrily. “When can we expect them?”

“Soon, Your Holiness, but they have been
delayed.”

“Delayed? Why in Heaven’s name would they be
delayed?”

“More mechs, Your Holiness. And Railers,”
Montoya responded.

“Railers? RAILERS?!? Train trash is holding
up my glory?!?” Wyble roared.

***

“Goddammit! They’re already up!” Jay yelled.
“That was sixty seconds shorter this time! Sixty fucking
seconds!”

“Whoa, calm down, Jay,” Masters said. “They
went down and that’s what matters. So the sonic frequency doesn’t
blow their heads off. It does give us an advantage, though,
right?”

“Not if they’re adapting!” Jay responded
angrily. “Sixty seconds! And these are different deaders! That
means that their tech is adjusting, communicating, changing the
physiology of their brains across the board. We’ll be lucky to have
three or four more uses before the disc is useless.”

“I’d rather have three than none,” Masters
said.

***

“Can they catch up?” Timson asked, watching
the view of the deader army fade as the Railer train continued
on.

“No, not at their pace,” Marin answered.
“They seem to only have one marching speed.”

“Well, that’s good,” Timson said. “What’s
our ETA on the other mechs?”

“Not sure,” Jenny responded. “Readings are
all over the place. We’re picking up some type of geothermal
interference below us. Playing havoc with the scanners.”

“The first letter in ETA is estimate,”
Timson snapped. “Just give me something.”

“Soon. How’s that for an estimate?” Jenny
snapped back.

“That works just fine,” Timson replied.

***

Capreze watched as four of the RPGs he
launched at the attacking missiles hit home. Metal and plastic
rained down, littering the ground with smoldering debris.

“That’s how that’s done!” he cheered, but he
cut the celebration short as his sensors still picked up two
incoming missiles.

The moment the first one appeared he took it
out with a perfectly timed plasma blast. Unfortunately it meant he
didn’t have time to fire on the next missile, so he instinctively
lashed out, punching the missile and changing its course, sending
it directly into a Rancher transport.

“And that’s how that’s done!”

***

“Three more transports lost, Your Holiness!”
Deacon Montoya announced.

“And the Disciples? Are they not Holy enough
to overpower the mechs?” the Archbishop asked enraged. “Does God
not shine down upon us today or has the Devil himself ascended from
Hell to aid these metal worshipping infidels?!?”

“The Disciples have been destroyed, Your
Holiness. I am sorry, but the mech pilots are trained for this. We
are not.”

“Coward! Defeatist!” Wyble raged slamming
his fist down again and again. “I will have your tongue-”

But Montoya never heard the rest as several
50mm slugs pierced the windshield and his body.

***

Harlow cursed as her 50mms overheated,
grinding to a halt. She stared out her cockpit at the transport she
had just fired upon and readied plasma charges.

Something inside the transport caught her
eye and she took a moment to focus her vid on the driver before she
tossed some hot death its way.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered as she
watched Archbishop Wyble yank the corpse of Deacon Montoya out of
the seat and take it himself. He glared up at the mech, his lips
moving and his face read with anger.

“Oh, you are mine,” Harlow sneered.

***

Archbishop Wyble spat and screamed curses at
the looming mech until his voice was hoarse. “You will not have the
privilege of my demise!” he shouted while taking the transports
controls. He whipped the ungainly vehicle about and sped away from
the mech.

“I am the Archbishop,” he continued. “I am
the incarnation of the Father, the Son and the True Disciple upon
this plane of existence! I will not be murdered by heathens! God
will grant me the Glory to avenge his name! To war again another
day!”

He launched all missiles and fired all aft
cannons at Harlow.

***

Harlow moved like the wind. A 50-ton,
infuriated wind.

“FUCK YOU!” she bellowed, ducking past
missiles and dodging cannon fire. She fired the last of her RPGs
behind her, hoping they’d act as decoys for the missiles’ tracking.
A cannon shell impacted in front of her and her mech shuddered, but
she refused to slow, pushing through the concussion as she pursued
the Archbishop’s transport.

“Uh-uh! You’re not getting away today mother
fucker!”

She pumped her legs to their limits and
quickly gained ground on the transport as she flexed her giant
metal fists, ready to crush some Rancher ass.

***

The Archbishop slammed his hands against the
transport’s controls. “Move! Faster you hunk of evil!”

He glanced at his rear vid feed showing the
pursuing mech. His instruments indicated he was out of ammunition.
He grabbed the com in frustration. “Who is still aboard?”

“Um, just Quakenbush and myself, Your
Holiness,” a tinny voice responded. “We already released the
Disciples. The hold is empty.”

“And who are you?” the Archbishop
demanded.

“Sweeten, Your Holiness.”

“Well Sweeten, are you and Quakenbush ready
for your honor and duty?”

“Um, yes, Your Holiness,” Sweeten responded
weakly.

“Excellent. Open the rear ramp,” Wyble
commanded.

***

“What the hell?” Harlow said aloud as the
transport’s rear ramp opened and two Ranchers stumbled down it,
rolling to a stop on the ground as the transport never slowed.

Harlow’s first intention was to stomp the
ranchers into the ground, but the reflection of metal made her zoom
in on the two men. She was glad she did as the vid revealed dozens
of fractal grenades strapped to their bodies.

The two men stared at her approaching mech,
their mouths moving in silent prayer. As she neared, they both
pulled the pins out of as many grenades they could.

***

Quakenbush’s eyes widened as the mech leapt.
He would never know the mech’s fate as his was sealed by the
detonation of all 31 grenades secured to his trembling body.