Gears of War: Jacinto’s Remnant (25 page)

Shit, fir trees didn’t have blue lights. Did they?

In the gloom, he could see triple bars of faint blue, armor indicators—but vertical ones, like they were lying on their side on a branch up in the damn trees.

It took him a few moments to work out what he was looking at: Bernie Mataki, propped in the fork of a branch with her Longshot aimed. Had she seen him? If he called her on the radio, he might distract her. But she’d seen him, all right. She didn’t even move her head, just her left arm, pointing down into the trees and then indicating one with her forefinger.

The Kantus must have been within meters. She could see it, but Cole couldn’t. Then she moved her arm wider, circling her forefinger—vague direction, yeah, he got it—and then held up two fingers. The second target.

Shit. What did he have to do? If she wanted radio silence, then he couldn’t ask. Thumbs up.
Yes
.

Yes
what?

A single shot rang out. The droning chorus thinned instantly into one voice. Something went
thud
on the ground close enough for him to hear it.

Now he could hear the other Kantus, and work out roughly where the asshole was. Bernie’s voice whispered in his earpiece.

“He’s just standing absolutely still, right next to a tree. Flush him out for me. Preferably
that
way.”

“All part of the service, baby.”

“Follow the finger …”

Cole knew he wasn’t one of nature’s stealthy types. They didn’t call him Cole Train for nothing. He decided to sprint for it, and the instant his boots crunched on twigs and gravel, the Kantus stopped droning and bolted. Bernie didn’t fire; the grub went the wrong way, out of her line of sight. Cole dodged the trees and tried to head the Kantus off.

But you can’t run and chant at the same time, can you, asshole?

Cole darted around the next tree, just catching glimpses of the Kantus, trying to drive it back toward the battle

—or so he thought until it whipped around and he saw the muzzle flash as it fired its pistol. The round clipped his collar armor and went wide. By the time the Kantus aimed again—faster than a Boomer, but not fast enough

—Cole emptied a Lancer clip into it, up-down, face to groin. There was no point doing half a job with these guys. They needed shutting up for good.

He reloaded and made sure its chanting days were over. “Tough audience, ain’t I, baby?”

Cole could already hear the tide of battle changing as he headed back to Dom’s fire position, more Lancer fire rattling through the forest than Boomshots and Hammerbursts. The injured drones weren’t bouncing back into the game all fresh and enthusiastic now that their Kantus were gone, and the Boomers were finally getting the idea that the party was over. Two turned and tried to run. But the moment they emerged from the trees and onto open ground, hammering gunfire from a Raven strafed them.

Gettner was a patient lady, for sure, waiting there like some vulture until she got some trade. Cole ducked and dodged as he ran after the last grubs. He almost fell over Baird, who was kneeling by a pile of grub ammo, pouring rounds into another butcher Boomer. It was hard to work out where anyone was until the firing slowed, the noise died down, and Gears started calling in as they cleared positions. Cole pressed his earpiece. “Marcus, that’s two more Kantus who won’t be performin’ again.”

“Nice job, Cole. What happened to Mataki?”

“She don’t like choral music, either. She capped one.”

“She’s okay, then.”

“Yeah.”
Shit
. She hadn’t caught up with him yet. “I better go find her.”

Baird was admiring a haul of cleavers and Hammerburst ammo. “Hey, we going to come back for all this stuff?

Can’t waste it now.”

“Let’s collect Bernie first. What happened to your goggles?”

“Don’t ask.”

Baird would get another pair somehow. But now that the dust was settling and Cole was feeling the winter chill again, he could see just how high a price they’d paid to put down these grubs. There were too many bodies. They’d lost a lot of Gears. It felt like the killing was never going to stop.

“Bernie?” Damn trees all looked the same. “Boomer Lady, where you gone?”

Baird called for her. “Yo, Granny, where are you?” He still had a cleaver in one hand. “I got you a nice new chopper. For all the dead animals you cut up.”

Cole found what he thought was the right group of trees and scanned the branches. He thought she’d already climbed down and headed back until he heard her voice.

“Are we done?” she called.

“Bernie baby, it’s real messy down there, but we got ’em all. You can come down now.” He beckoned. “I’m impressed you even got up there.”

“Yeah, but I’m stuck,” she said.

“How stuck?”

Baird managed a smile. “Throw some rocks at her. That usually works.”

“I’ve got a cramp in my leg, dickhead.” She tried to shuffle back down the branch and winced. “And it’s one thing climbing up here … but another getting down again.”

“Bernie, you shot so many kitties for lunch that the cat god’s passin’ judgment on you.” Cole roared with laughter. “You got
stuck up a tree
. Ain’t that poetic justice?”

It was only raw relief. He didn’t think life was funny at all right then, not one bit, but he didn’t have any control over the laughter that shook his whole body all the way from his gut. There were too many dead buddies back there, too many hurt. It’d hit him later, he knew, but right then all the folks he was closest to were in one piece, and this just started him off laughing.

“You want me to plummet from here, or try climbing halfway and
then
break my neck?” Bernie called. Cole held out his arms. He couldn’t see straight because his eyes had filled up with tears for no particular reason.

“Come on, Boomer Lady. Trust the Cole Train—I’ll catch you. I
never
fumbled a catch in a game, ever.”

“Good.” Bernie’s voice was suddenly small and shaky. “Because I don’t think I’ve got enough adrenaline or energy left to hang on.”

Baird muttered and shook his head. “Shit, she shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You tell her.” Cole positioned himself right underneath her, then took one pace back. “Bernie ? Just let yourself fall, baby. I swear I won’t drop you.”

It was like one of those dumb -ass training things where guys had to learn to trust their buddies to save them from a little bit of pain. Cole didn’t want to say it aloud, but if Bernie broke something, she wouldn’t mend as fast as the rest of them.

“Okay.” She took a loud breath. “Incoming—three, two
… go.”

Twigs snapped, and he caught her in both arms, staggering back a few steps.

It hurt a lot more than he thought—her elbow caught him in the chin—but it felt pretty good to make the catch. When he set Bernie down on her feet, she limped a few paces.

“Ow …”

“Okay, now you’re gonna listen to me.”

“I only twisted my ankle.” Cole tried to support her arm, but she fended him off. “I can walk. Really, I can.”

“Now, I always was a good boy,” he said. “But sometimes Momma
don’t
know best.” He picked her up bodily and threw her over his shoulder. “And I’d carry you nicely, but I know you’d give me hell about that for makin’

you look girly and
weak.”

Gears took care of each other. Cole was going to lock Bernie in her quarters until they were ready to ship out for Vectes if he had to, and not let her out of his sight.

“Yeah, you really are a good boy,” she said, sounding winded by each stride he took. She started laughing, too.

“Thanks, Cole.”

Baird ambled along behind. “Hey, don’t forget the cleaver.”

“Thanks, Blondie. Just what I wanted.”

There were still Gears jogging in the opposite direction toward the trees, because it wasn’t over yet. There were tags to collect, funerals to fix. Cole suddenly realized Baird wasn’t with them anymore, and turned to check.

“He’s gone back to join the burial detail, I think,” Bernie said, not seeming to mind the undignified lift. “I wish I hadn’t been such a bitch to him before.”

“Baird’s okay,” Cole said. “He only gives bloodstained cleavers to people he
likes.”

Vectes was sounding like a pretty sweet idea now. Cole could keep the jokes coming as long as people needed him to, but he had the feeling that if they had to go through this many more times, he’d reach the stage where even he might not be able to look on the bright side again.

As all of Sera has learned, peace is fragile. This new, ruthless enemy has rendered most of Sera’s leaders either helpless or dead.
This enemy believes Sera is finished. Some in the Coalition of Ordered Governments also seem to believe Sera is finished—a sick,
feeble animal waiting for slaughter. But today, citizens of Sera, we—Tyrus, the heart of the Coalition—will take back our planet.
To ensure your safety and cooperation, we are reinstating the Fortification Act. All of Sera will be under martial law. No one is
exempt. Survivors should immediately start evacuating to Ephyra. These unclean creatures, these Locust, are unable to penetrate
Jacinto’s granite base. Therefore, in Jacinto, we are safe—for now. We won’t let this rampage go further or surrender power. The
Coalition will employ Sera’s entire arsenal of orbital beam weapons to scorch all Locust-infested areas. For those citizens who
cannot make it to Jacinto, the Coalition appreciates your sacrifice. Please forgive us. This is the only way
. (CHAIRMAN RICHARD PRESCOTT, 30TH DAY OF BLOOM, 1 A.E.)

VEHICLE CHECKPOINT, EPHYRA-KINNERLAKE HIGHWAY, 30TH DAY OF BLOOM, 1 A.E., MINUTES AFTER CHAIRMAN PRESCOTT’S

ANNOUNCEMENT.

There was no such thing as a good time or place to hear news like that.

Dom wished that he hadn’t been among civvies at the time. The squad had walked all night along the side of the highway, loaded with salvaged kit from the dead ’Dill, and now they’d reached the bridge over the Tyra River. It was paved with traffic at a complete standstill.

Someone had a radio turned up to full volume, the sound spilling from the open door of a car stopped in the traffic. Dom was caught among people who expected Gears to know what was happening. They looked at him for answers. He had none to give.

“Did we hear right?” a woman whispered. She put her hand on his arm and shook it gently, as if she thought his mind was elsewhere “It’s got to be a mistake. Surely? They can’t mean it. They’ll
kill
people. What happens to our homes?”

Dom had been leaning on the safety rail of the highway bridge, looking down onto the river, when he heard the broadcast news conference. The words
entire arsenal of orbital beam weapons
hit him with their full force a minute or so after he heard them. He found himself staring at the glittering reflections of the sun on the water, and every starburst point of light was now etched into his memory. Things were bad, but he’d had no idea
how
bad.
I have to call Maria. I have to get to a phone
.

“Ma’am, I don’t know any more than you do.” The woman had her hands cupped over her mouth as she looked up at him, shocked and helpless; how the hell
could
anyone take in what Prescott had just said? He couldn’t. “It’ll be okay. You’re not far from Ephyra now. You’ll make it.”

“But I don’t
want
to go to Ephyra,” she said. “I live in New Sherrith. What am I going to do about my son?

He’s in Soteroa.”

The South Islands were on the other side of Sera. Unless the guy had a private aircraft—and that was a privilege even the richest on Sera had been forced to hand over to the war effort—then the poor bastard was weeks away by boat.

If he can get passage at all
.

Shit, this is it
.

“Ma’am, it’s going to be fine.” Dom knew he was probably lying, but what the hell else could he say? That her son was screwed? “They know what they’re doing. If they didn’t think people could get to Ephyra, they wouldn’t have given them advance warning, would they?”