Grunt Traitor (37 page)

The man stared at her through his plastic faceplate. I’d seen a movie once with John Wayne, or Robert Mitchum, or one of the other old movie stars. The movie took place on the Great Plains, and I remembered a scene where a family of settlers were told that the Indians were going to come and wipe them out. The settlers didn’t seem to care. They insisted on staying, believing that they would figure out how to get along.

“Thank you for the information,” the man said, and started to close the door.

“You do understand that you’re going to die?” Ohirra said. “There’s nothing you can do except escape.”

“We understand,” the man said. He offered her a serene smile.

“There’s a group of fungees near Piggyback Yard. I’d be careful of them when you evacuate,” she said.

“We’re not leaving. This is our home.”

“But don’t you get it? If you stay, you’ll die.”

“We’ve been told that before. This is our home. We’re staying here.”

And with that he shut the door.

Ohirra stood, staring at it for several seconds.

“Come on back,” I said.

“But they need to know...”

“They know. You told them. If they want to stay, then let them.”

“But they’re all going to die.”

“It’s their choice.” I turned to continue down the street. “Stranz, take point.”

He ran forward fifty meters.

Ohirra rejoined us and I had her take the rear.

The 110 had once carried drivers from the Valley into the city, and city folks into the Valley. We met the 101 just south of our position near Chavez Ravine, which had once been a great L.A. meeting place called Dodger Stadium. The tall, elevated highway was already crumbling beneath the insistent knots of black vine. We were forced to climb over the larger chunks of rubble.

We eventually crossed under the 110 and were skirting Dodger Stadium when our telemetry began to scream as a rocket streaked from the upper deck of the stadium. I shouted for Stranz to get out of the way. A moment later, he was thrown through the air, slamming into the side of the buttress holding up the freeway.

I got a word of warning for all you would-be warriors. When you join my command, you take on a debt. A debt you owe me personally. Each and every man under my command owes me one hundred Nazi scalps. And I
want
my scalps. And all y’all will git me one hundred Nazi scalps, taken from the heads of one hundred dead Nazis. Or you will die tryin’.

Lt. Aldo Raine,
Inglourious Basterds

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

“O
HIRRA
! F
IND THAT
sniper!” I yelled, running to Stranz.

Sula took shelter behind a giant concrete slab that had fallen from the highway. Her Hydra was up and waiting for telemetry to give her a target.

I got to Stranz just in time to pull him ten meters out of the kill zone before another RPG impacted. I staggered from the force of the explosion. Concrete rained down on us.

Sula fired two missiles at the same time Ohirra unzipped the sky, sending a hundred rounds in five seconds into the upper deck of the stadium.

My telemetry was for shit under the ensuing cloud of concrete dust, but I’d let them sort it out. I checked Stranz’s vitals and they were all over the place. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing... probably just unconscious from the impact. He hadn’t taken a direct hit, but even in an EXO, shrapnel could be a deadly thing if it was big enough and hit just right. I checked the integrity of his suit and didn’t see any broken seals or rips.

“Sula, with me,” Ohirra said over the net.

I watched for a moment as they moved in sprinting overwatch up an embankment, then across an immense parking lot toward the stadium. The black alien vine had yet to overtake the stadium, which sat high on a hill. I’d noted that the vine seemed to want to maintain its own level and tended not to climb higher. Even the Hollywood Sign was free from its clutches... for now.

“Wait for me,” I ordered.

“I can take him,” Ohirra said.

“Negative.
Wait
.”

Using my command switch, I powered down Stranz’s suit, then powered it back up. As advanced as the technology was, I was using the same methods I would have used on an old desktop PC. After thirty seconds, his vitals returned to normal.

I shook him until his eyes fluttered open.

“Eggs and bacy, time to wakey! Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

He brought a hand to his head. “What hit me?”

“Close call,” I said, standing, then offering a hand. “RPG just missed.”

He accepted my hand and I helped him up. Then I turned and ran towards the stadium. It was nothing more than a giant hunching shadow of darkness in the overcast night, but my EXO was capable of rendering it in perfect clarity with Starlight technology.

Another RPG round arced toward me, but without any seeking technology, it was easy to avoid. By the time Stranz and I had joined the others, Ohirra was virtually dancing with impatience to take down the sniper.

“What’s our plan?” I asked.

“Go in there and fuck them up,” Sula said.

“Nice. But I was looking for something a little more detailed, because the minute one of us goes through that entrance to the field,” I said, pointing, “we’re going to be a target.”

I could see Ohirra working through the problem, then her shoulders sagged. “You’re right. It’s a trap.”

“Either that or some wannabe sniper taking potshots at us from extreme range. Here’s what we do. Let’s stick together and go up internally. I’ve been to a hundred games at the park; I know this place inside and out.”

We moved two-by-two through the ground floor, past kiosks that once sold souvenirs and food stalls. An elote cart had been all but demolished. I paused before it and gave a silent eulogy for what had been my childhood treat during the seventh-inning stretch.

We kept moving around the inside of the stadium until we were even with the center field wall. We climbed a staircase, which got us to the mezzanine level. The blue and red Dodgers symbol was everywhere, as a reminder of what fifty-six thousand people once did two hundred days out of the year. The silence, followed by the crack of the bat, then the roar of the crowd used to electrify me.

We passed a kiosk that used to serve Doyer Dogs. I could still make out the menu, which showed a picture of the hot dog smothered in nacho cheese, chili, jalapeños and pico de gallo. As I’d gotten older, these gut bombs had replaced the elote as my cuisine of choice. I remember polishing off seven of them one fall Saturday afternoon, only to pay for it later, lying crumpled on the bathroom floor with my stomach a hurricane of
what the hell did you put in me!

I sent Ohirra and Sula towards the first base foul ball seats.

Stranz and I went to the third-base foul ball seats.

When both teams were in place, we climbed up one more level and headed towards the seating areas through a tall, wide tunnel. After seeing the first hint of green on the field, I spied the blades of the helicopter.

“Careful,” I said. “Now we know where the Chinook landed.” I thought for a moment. “Let me pop my head out first and draw their attention. When they fire, both of you take them out.”

I motioned Stranz to hang back, then I took three steps forward and peeked around the corner. My HUD went crazy as it counted targets in five locations, including directly above me. I spun just in time to see a man in a hazmat suit and body armor putting an old fashioned LAW rocket launcher to his shoulder. He was close enough to the opening that I was able to jump and grab his leg. I jerked it, the ankle breaking as his leg folded towards me. The rocket launcher clattered to the ground at about the same time three RPGs shot toward me. Instead of diving back in the tunnel, I ran to my right, towards the seats behind home plate and the press boxes from where most of the fire was coming.

The RPGs hit, obliterating the entrance to my rear.

I ordered Stranz to mirror my movements from the inside and shortly saw his ammo numbers tick down as he opened fire.

I brought out my harmonic blade and swung it over my head as I screamed, “
Take me out to the ball game...
”

Sula and Ohirra’s rockets found homes in three of the ten press boxes, blowing them to smithereens.

“
Take me out with the crowd...
”

Another hazmat-suited target swung around, aimed his RPG at me and fired.

“
Give me some peanuts and apple jacks...
”

I saw the round coming towards me in slow motion and twisted my body to let it fly harmlessly past.

“
I don’t care if I never get back...
”

I was on him as he tried to reload. I separated his upper and lower halves with one great swing of the blade. I spied another man behind him and started to swing, until a great explosion blew me clear out of the press area. I tumbled backwards, leaving a trail of broken seats in my path, coming to a halt upside down against the cage behind home plate.

“What was that?” Ohirra said over the net.

I righted myself, exchanging my dizzy upside-down view of the universe for a dizzy right-side-up. My vitals said I was fine, except that my heart rate was through the roof. Stranz’s vitals, on the other hand, were black—which could only mean two things: either his suit was offline or he was dead.

“Ohirra...” My torso felt like Mike Tyson had done a round on it. I lumbered forward and pulled myself up, retracing my path of destruction. “You and Sula, to me.”

She ran toward what was once the press box. We’d destroyed three of the boxes; now they all ten were nothing but a black smoking hole. We met at the start of the rubble. Ohirra wasn’t even breathing hard. She’d left Sula back to cover us, which was a better idea than my command. I arrived huffing and puffing like I’d just run a marathon after smoking a carton of Pall Malls.

“What was that?” she asked.

I shook my head as much to clear the ringing as in answer. “And where’s Stranz?”

I waded into the wreckage, pulling aside wood and concrete. I found one hazmat-suited body which had been blown in half. Deeper in I found three more, all in various states of dismemberment. A fourth was lying beneath a collapsed desk. He was still alive... until I planted an EXO foot on his face and pushed. I didn’t care for these men at all. They’d earned their fate when they’d tried to kill us. I was more concerned for Stranz.

I found him at the back of the press area, in what would have been the access tunnel; it had partially collapsed on top of him. His suit was dark. It looked as if Thor, Loki and every Frost Giant in the pantheon had hammered on it until it was as dimpled as a bowling ball. His hands were claws at his neck and he wasn’t moving.

I fell on my knees beside him and leaned down so I could peer into his faceplate. His eyes were bulging. His tongue was turning blue. As I came into view, he stared at me, dying.

Fucking OMBRA techs had made a flawed design. Maybe if I put one of them in a powered-down suit, they’d see the need to fix their error. I reached around the back of the helmet and twisted, trying to remove it so he could get air. It was caught on something, or dented, or both. I cried for Ohirra. It took the two of us to rip the helmet free from its connector. When we got it free, Stranz gulped gratefully for air.

“Okay, kid. You’re going to be all right.” I unlatched his suit. “Are you injured anywhere else?”

He was still gasping for air, but managed to shake his head.

I stood and began removing my EXO.

“What are you doing?” Ohirra asked.

“I’m immune to the spore. Chucklehead here isn’t. He needs to—”

“We’ve got incoming Cray!” Sula shouted.

I stopped what I was doing, re-attached my EXO and began tracking six of the incoming creatures. It was long past sunset; they were about due.

“Let them come to us. Everyone on my mark. Ready, Ohirra?”

“Ready.”

“Sula?”

Nothing.

“Sula?”

“Sebring is here and says he’ll blow the nuke on my back if we don’t give up.”

Sebring
. Of course. He wanted a suit and he wanted the nuke. He was the reason for the helicopter.

“Well, then tell him he’s going to have to wait until we take care of the Cray.” I checked my weapons and realized I didn’t have my harmonic blade. I’d dropped it during the explosion and it was somewhere down there in the dark. I grabbed Stranz’s and unsheathed it. “Take it easy, kid,” I said to him.

The Cray were half a click away when I got another idea.

I brought up my Hydras and targeted them. Once locked, I fired all six missiles. Five of them found a home, but the sixth missed as the Cray juked. Ohirra hit it with one of her missiles and it exploded in the sky. Now to ensure there wouldn’t be any more.

Ohirra began to speak, “I thought you wanted to—”