Metal and Ash (Apex Trilogy) (20 page)

“So what’s the point of this fucking com call?”

“To see if you are on schedule,” Mr. Gein replied. “Are you?”

“If by on schedule you mean ready to fucking deploy some badass metal on the wasteland, then yes.”

“Testing is complete?”

“Complete and beyond expectations. The Shiner AI provided us with all the data needed to create a mech army that can take down Capreze’s band of imbeciles. Coupled with the BC tech we will easily secure the wasteland for the Council.”

“For the Three, you mean,” Mr. Gein corrected.

“Right. Whatever.”

“I really don’t like you, Norton,” Mr. Gein stated. “Keep your nose clean. When this is over no one will be above review.”

“I assume that means you also,” Norton laughed. “I’ll talk to you later, Gein. I have actual work to do.”

Norton severed the com call and looked about the command center.

“I want pilots in the hangar in ten minutes,” he ordered. “No more test runs. The mission is go and we had better be ready.”

***

“Every one of you was hand picked!” Norton shouted up at the row of battle mechs. “You have been vetted for your loyalty to the Council first and for your exceptional skills at piloting mechs!”

He paced back and forth in the hangar, his body tiny compared to the two-story mechs lined up in ten rows of five. He paused briefly in front of one of the mechs.

“Pace!”

“Yes, sir!” the mech pilot called down from his cockpit.

“Are you ready and willing to wipe out every living thing in the wasteland? Men, women, children?”

“Yes, sir!”

“You have no hesitation? No remorse for the fact that your mech will be crushing helpless survivors of that hell that lies below us?”

“No, sir! My duty is to the Council! For the glory of our nation and the future of our people!”

“Glory of our nation and future of our people!” all of the pilots shouted in unison.

“Exactly!” Norton replied. “We can’t have mutant DNA pollute the true human gene pool! Those disgusting creatures are not human! When they die do they go peacefully to the afterlife?”

“No, sir!”

“What happens to scum like them?”

“They become monsters, sir!”

“Monsters,” Norton shivered. “Undead, flesh-eating monsters. If allowed to breed, if allowed to mix with our safe genes, they will destroy all of mankind, just like they nearly did hundreds of years ago! Are we going to let that happen?”

“NO, SIR!”

“Then deploy, pilots!” Norton shouted as he walked briskly to the side of the hangar. “The tunnel is open and the wasteland awaits! You have your orders! You have been sent to cleanse with extreme prejudice! Do not disappoint me! Do not disappoint yourselves! Do not disappoint the Council! And do not disappoint your country!”

“FOR THE GLORY OF OUR NATION AND FUTURE OF OUR PEOPLE!”

***

“Fucking LaFrance,” Norton snorted. “Never approved my request to widen the tunnel. I fucking hate sending the mechs through single file. Maybe we should have just painted a target on each one.”

“Sensors and advance team do not show any hostiles anywhere within range of the tunnel exit,” a tech reported. “They will be fine, sir.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what will and won’t be fine!” Norton shouted. “Fucking ever! I decide what is fine! Got that?”

“Yes, sir,” the tech replied immediately. “My apologies, sir.”

Norton waved him off and settled in front of the vid array at his workstation. Each mech’s vid feed streamed directly to him. He would be able to watch every single moment of the action.

Destroying the wasteland mutants had been the dream of his family, and many of the families under the Council’s protection. It hadn’t been a popular view and those that strived for that end result had been forced to remain silent except in sympathetic circles. At least until the Council had been populated with like-minded individuals.

The dreams of cleansing the wasteland of the polluted population were in reach and Norton was proud to be at the forefront. He would be there, watching, rejoicing, ready to take credit for his nation’s greatest triumph.

Twenty-Four

The faint luminescence of phosphorescent walls was all Jenny could take in as she waved in and out of consciousness. Her head screamed at her, begging for mercy from the pain that engulfed it. She regretted having tried to fight when they put the hood over her head. Well, not really.

She knew others were with her as she felt them tend to her; lift her up carefully to drink stagnant, mildewed water; clean her as she knew she’d soiled herself; and sit close by, discussing her fate.

Bits and pieces of conversation floated into her mind.

“…ain’t from here…”

“What…slit…her?”

“…on her own…”

“…troubled…fault…”

“Where…am…I?” Jenny whispered and whatever conversation had been going on stopped immediately.

“Dear, you’re in the Maze,” a woman said and Jenny struggled to keep her eyes open and focus on the voice. “But I’m afraid you won’t be here long.”

The world swam about her, but Jenny held her eyes on the woman that crouched next to her. “Where’s the Rookie?”

“She must mean the Mayor’s nephew,” a young girl said. “Last batch of slits said he was here to take his place by his uncle’s side.”

Jenny tried to push herself up, but she didn’t quite have the strength.

“Easy, girl,” the first woman scolded. “You’re lucky to be living. Whoever conked you on the head didn’t hold back. Stupid idiot.”

“Thought they weren’t supposed to-?” a girl asked and the look from the older woman shut her up immediately.

“Why am I here?” Jenny asked, ignoring the woman’s advice, and the subsequent waves of nausea and pain. “What do you mean the Rookie is taking his place? What place?”

Jenny looked about and saw she was in some type of cave; maybe man-made. The rough hewn walls were slick with moisture and glowing lichen. She’d been placed on a thin pallet of torn rags and discarded garbage. It was comfortable enough, but the smell told her she hadn’t been given the deluxe accommodations and had been settled with the unwanted castoffs.

Seven women in all stood close to her, although only the one crouching by her she would have considered an actual woman; six of them were dirt covered teenagers, their chests bare and groins covered in rags that were only slightly cleaner than the ones Jenny lay on.

Jenny was about to ask more questions, but a high-pitched whistle sent the women into action.

“We have to get her up,” the older woman said. “Help me.”

“She’s on her own,” one of the girls said before turning to the low opening leading from the room. “She ain’t no Eden slit. Let her get eaten.”

“Eaten?!” Jenny asked with alarm. “What does that whistle mean?”

“It means we run,” another girl said just before she took her own advice.

Jenny gripped the older woman and forced herself to stand. “I can’t run,” she stated with gut clenching alarm. “I don’t know if I can walk.”

“You’ll have to,” the woman said. “We kept you hidden as long as we could, but staying in one place is how you die in the Maze. I’m going to kick that man’s ass for putting me through this.”

“I still don’t know what’s going on,” Jenny said as she leaned on the woman and limped out of the room.

“You know how to fight the dead?” the woman asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Jenny nodded, her head slightly clearer, but not any less pained.

“Then that’s all you need to know,” the woman said. “I’m Agnatha. I’ll help you as much as I can.” Agnatha gave Jenny a look and she nodded.

“I won’t hold you back,” Jenny promised. “I can fight.”

“Oh, you’ll have to,” Agnatha said as they took a turn into a near pitch-black corridor.

***

Jenny and Agnatha followed several twists and turns, making Jenny even more disoriented than before. She struggled to keep from vomiting, but by the time they’d reached their destination she lost the struggle. Agnatha leaned her against the wall of the large room they entered and let her expel the meager contents of her stomach.

“Get that done now,” Agnatha said as she hurried to a pile of weapons and pulled two rusted, but sharp, short swords. “No time for puking when the dead arrive.”

She offered a short sword and Jenny took it without question. “Thanks.”

“Station eight, seven, fourteen and eleven are cut-off,” a girl said as she ran up to Agnatha. “Runners from all other stations say they’re ready.”

“Ready for what?” Jenny asked as she looked about the large room they were in. At least twenty or more women of various ages, although none quite as old as Agnatha, stood with swords, spears, axes, shields, ropes, pipes, and many other hand held weapons, ready for the attack they all knew was coming. “What the fuck is going on?”

“You’ll see,” Agnatha said, pushing Jenny towards the center of the room. “Just don’t get in the way. One comes at you do your part.”

“My part?”

“Kill the thing,” a girl said, her cheeks crisscrossed with thick, white scars. Her shoulders, upper arms and chest were just as brutalized. “And keep it from killing anyone else. At all cost.”

“At all cost,” everyone echoed quietly.

“Jeezus,” Jenny gasped as she realized she’d woken up to a nightmare. “Who put you here? Who would do this?”

“Put us here?” the scarred girl asked. “This is the Maze. This is where slits go. Get with it.”

Jenny had a million more questions, but the groans, shrieks, moans and grunts coming from the four entrances to the room shoved them all from her mind.

***

The way the room was created –curved walls that lead to a domed ceiling a couple dozen feet high- the sounds of the approaching deaders echoed everywhere, sending a disorienting aural assault down on the circled women.

Jenny tried to get a bead on which way the deaders were coming from, but to her ears they were already on her.

“What is going on?” Jenny cried. “Why the fuck are we stuck here? Why doesn’t someone get us the fuck out of this place?”

“Get out?” a girl asked at Jenny’s elbow. She was petite, but wired with muscle. “Why get out? This is where we prove who we are. That we’re ready for-.”

“Hush,” Agnatha scolded.

Jenny looked at her in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding?”

“I said hush!” Agnatha scolded. “Prepare!”

The group of women prepared. They became tense bundles of muscle and anticipation. Weapons were set at the ready, bodies turned to present the smallest possible targets, breathing quickened. Jenny could smell the sweat of fear, but she also felt the buzz of excitement. Some of the women were near giddy with the prospect of battle.

It turned out it didn’t matter which door Jenny focused on; the deaders came pouring through them all.

“Oh, fuck…,” she whispered as the women let out a war cry, raising the volume until the deaders fell on them.

Still too weak to hold her own, Jenny fell into the center of the women and threw pitiful jabs and slashes at the deaders that reached past the flurry of metal and wood that ripped and hacked the undead to pieces. It didn’t take her long, even in the chaos of battle, to realize that many of the walking corpses were female. Or had been in their living days.

A taloned hand gripped her leg and Jenny shrieked as she hacked at the arm attached, crushing the decayed elbow and severing the limb. She thrust her sword down into the deader’s neck, and the thing went limp as its spinal column was snapped in two.

Gore and chunks of dead flesh flew everywhere and Jenny quickly realized she had to stop the scream that had been issuing from her mouth since the deaders attacked, or end up swallowing a mouthful of undead flesh. Her energy left her and she went down on one knee, still thrusting and slashing where she could, keeping the crawling ones from getting to her after they’d made it past the first circle of women.

Dozens and dozens of deaders lurched, ran, stumbled, dashed into the room, the smell of fresh flesh pushing them on in a relentless attack of putrid bodies. Jenny had smelled hordes of deaders before, but always from the safety of a moving train. The close quarters, even with the high ceiling, left nowhere for the stench to go and she resumed her previous retching. Her body doubled over as she heaved, she didn’t see the deader that’d shoved one of the girls aside, taking a chunk of pink flesh with it, as it closed on her.

When near skeletal fingers gripped Jenny’s hair and yanked her head back, exposing her delicious, soft throat, she barely had the strength to weakly shake her head from side to side. She watched in horror as rotted, jagged teeth descended towards her. Her last thoughts were of how pissed she was that she was going to die in a dark, rank hellhole instead of riding free on a Railer train.

“Fuck you,” she gasped as the deader’s rotten stench filled her nose.

***

Agnatha whirled in a tight circle, tripping up deaders, hacking decayed limbs, piercing oozing chests, ripping open gas bloated abdomens, sending heads rolling. She was matched in skill and intensity by most of the women about her. The room was soon littered with dismembered undead. Those not fully put down continued to attack, but they were crippled in their attempts and many had their heads crushed under bare feet with soles calloused like leather.

The deader that had Jenny in its grip was pulled away and its head was parted from its shoulders. Agnatha kicked the body to the side and stomped the head, crushing the brain, ending its tortured existence.

Jenny fell backwards, her hands quickly feeling her body, seeing if she’d been bitten. Her eyes met Agnatha’s and she nodded her thanks, but the interaction was brief as Agnatha went back to dispatching the undead attackers. Jenny rolled over onto her hands and knees and tried to push herself up, but the strength wasn’t there and she fell flat on her face. She lay there for several minutes, her breathing ragged and shallow, until the last sounds of deader moans ceased.