Necropolis 3 (8 page)

Greg made sure he'd reloaded his weapons, switched to his rifle, set it three-round burst and moved into the garage.

Hell had been loosed. Chaos boiled. Burne, Mike, and their two squads were doing battle with a couple of dozen Drones. Bullets flew everywhere, blood pooled on the floor, and bodies fell. Greg threw himself into the fray without much thought for anything else. He sighted up a Drone and blew out its left eye, sending it careening to the ground. Greg lined up a second one and blew away a portion of its skull.

Greg emptied his magazine, ejected it, barely heard it clatter to the floor and slammed a fresh one in. He burned through his bullets, spraying blood and sparks through the air, his hands steady, his aim true. Around him, men and women fought and died against unfeeling corpses driven by cybernetics and electricity.

With the infusion of Greg and Mike's squads, Burne and his men began gaining the upper hand and taking out Drones left and right. Seconds bled into minutes as the reek of gunpowder, blood, and death filled the garage. Blood, red, darker red, and outright black, slicked the floor. Greg allowed himself to believe that they were going to make it through this without too many losses when it happened.

The far garage door, the inner door of a huge airlock, suddenly dented inward. A tremendous
bang
tore through the area. Greg groaned and quickly put down the remaining augmented. This was
never
a good thing. A second, third, and fourth dent had appeared in the ground-level, central area of the huge door by the time the last Drone fell.

“
Get ready!” Burne called.

The survivors, numbering close to twenty, regrouped and backed away from the dented door, reloading and preparing themselves for whatever new horror was about to burst through and throw a whole new level of pain their way.

Silence descended as the men got into position, those that could grab cover doing so. No more dents appeared. Greg's muscles were tense as tempered steel, his rifle tucked tightly against his shoulder, sweat pouring down his face. All around him, the men and women shifted uncomfortably, waiting.

Someone began to say something when the dented region of the door abruptly exploded inwards, admitting a
n enormous beast of flesh and steel. Greg's jaw dropped as he saw this latest terror. It was in the shape of a man, but, to his growing horror, Greg realized that it was
several
men that had been sewn together and were held in place by technology. The thing was easily eight feet tall. Steel, circuitry, and technology covered half of its body. The thing let out a roar and raised one hand, which was no hand at all, but, in fact, a giant blade.

It charged as a hail of gunfire opened up, peppering it with seemingly no effect. The monstrous thing was amidst the men in a few seconds. It brought its blade-hand around in a broad arc, decapitating two of the survivors. The double-sided blade came back around, cleaving through another man's torso and sending both halves of him flying.

Blood.

There was blood
everywhere
.

Men and women screamed and ran as this bladed terror cut through their ranks. Greg ducked behind it, switched to his shotgun, aimed high and squeezed the trigger. The beast roared, stumbled, and then spun around. Greg barely managed to get out of the way of a killing blow. He felt the tip of the blade cut through the armor he wore over his chest. Someone else shot it a few times from behind, causing it to spin around again.

They kept this up and it became a game of keep-away. Within a few minutes, the beast had taken too much damage and its head had become little more than a thin casing of battered, bloodied steel around whatever it was kept it going. Finally, it let out a loud, pained groan and toppled to the ground, crashing so hard it knocked over several crates.

“
What the hell was
tha
-” Greg was cut off as something crashed into him from overhead and he suddenly felt a wretched, burning pain in his shoulder.

Someone screamed. He realized it was Kyra. There was a gunshot and hot blood splashed him. Greg realized he was now laying face-down on the ground. He groaned and went to push himself up, but his shoulder hurt so much he let out a sharp scream. He suddenly felt the distinctive feeling of a gun barrel being pressed against his head.

Someone shouted and suddenly it was gone. He rolled over and saw Burne standing over him, pistol in hand, as well as Kyra and Campbell.

“
Wait!” Kyra cried.

Greg began to feel very hot, feverish, and his head swam.

“What happened?” he groaned.

“
A Creeper bit you,” Kyra said, her face stricken with terror.

“
He's going to turn. We have to kill him,” Burne said, his mouth set into a hard, grim line, his eyes colder than space.

“
I'm the Cure,” Greg groaned.

His thoughts began to disintegrate, drifting away from him into an endless black void of meaninglessness.

“What the fuck's he talking about?” Burne asked.

“
Turn time is what, a few minutes? Just
wait
,” Kyra cried. “He's different. He was there at ground zero when they released the infection.”

“
What
?” Burne cried, stepping back.

Their voices came from a great distance now, low and distorted. Campbell suddenly swam into his vision.

“Hey, buddy. Time to put that cure to the test, huh? If you don't make it, I'll put the bullet in your head, if you want. I can't imagine you'd want Powell or any of these guys to do it, and I don't think Kyra'd be able to...”

Greg groaned. He could hear Kyra, urgently explaining something. Burne's voice, uncertain and hesitant. Campbell again. Suddenly, reality seemed to shift and he was being carried down a long hallway that might have been infinite. The lights overhead seemed to have become furry and were being boiled alive...

Suddenly, he was lying on something hard and flat and smelled distinctly of the color blue. His eyes wouldn't stop blinking.

He could hear Kyra. “See, it's been ten minutes. He's not even turning...”

Burne's face suddenly swam into his field of vision. “Damn, look at his eyes...”

Burne's face abruptly began to melt, as though the process had been filmed and then someone was hitting a fast forward button. Bits of liquid skin began dripping onto Greg and he groaned, feeling nauseous.

His head had been cracked open with a hammer and someone had placed electricity spikes directly inside his brain. His back had been swabbed with fuel and someone had applied a flame to it. He heard Billings, whispering in his head.

“
Don't worry, kid. Being dead ain't nothing. It's a hell of a lot easier than being alive, I can tell you that right now.”

Kauffman was hovering over him, crying bloody tears. He opened his mouth and flaming barbed wire began twining out of it. Greg tried to close his eyes but found, with more terror than he had ever felt, that he couldn't.

“Greg...”

Sudden
ly Baker was there, headless, blood still spraying from the hole where his neck had once been. The blood was black and toxic. Wherever it hit, decayed flowers instantaneously sprouted. Each flower sported a demonic head that wouldn't stop screaming.

Someone held his hand.

Suddenly, mercifully, blackness took him, and he was unconscious.

Chapter 07

–
Clash by Night
–

Reality snapped into focus.

Greg lay perfectly still. He was on his back, staring up at a gritty, tiled ceiling cast in a thin gray light. For a long moment that seem to stretch into eternity, absolutely nothing moved, nothing shifted. It seemed as though he wasn't even breathing. There was
nothing
in his head. No thoughts, no memories, no emotions.

Nothing.

Something seemed to click then, and it was like someone hit a reboot button. Memories slid into his skull. They were little more than a trickle at first, but quickly built until a tidal wave had been released from a burst dam. The first thing that really grabbed his attention was the fact that the light appeared to be coming from a single source. It wasn't being provided by overhead lights, instead by what was likely a flashlight.

“
What happened?” His voice came out in a dry croak.

Someone shifted nearby and abruptly Kyra's pale, beautiful face came into his field of vision. She looked concerned, but deeply relieved.

“Oh, thank
God
,” she whispered, reaching out and placing a cool hand against his cheek. “I thought you were dead, honey.”

Greg managed a weak laugh. “Now you're the one using pet names.”

Kyra broke into a genuine smile, leaned down to kiss him, and then hesitated.

“
What?” he asked.

“
You were hit by the infection. A Creeper jumped on your back, bit you. I thought you were dead, and then I remembered you had the Cure in you. Burne nearly blew your head off right then and there,” Kyra explained.

“
Shit,” Greg moaned. He felt exhausted and dull, his head clogged with a thick mental fog that seemed to mire everything in confusion.

“
Are you okay? Here.” She lifted his head and brought a canteen to his lips. He drank deeply from it.

“
Thanks.” He coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What happened? Why's it so dark?”

“
Campbell and I carried you to the infirmary. Burne followed us, hung around for a little while. He got some kind of call and left. The power just went out a minute ago. I'm not sure what's going on, but I wasn't going to leave you.”

“
Thanks...how long was I out?”

“
About half an hour. I think you were hallucinating before you passed out. You had a pretty bad fever, but it finally broke. What I think happened was the infection hit you, then ran into the Cure, and a bit of a battle raged in your body. But it looks like the Cure won out. It's just me here, everyone else ran off when the power went out. And...there's another thing, Greg. They found out about your arm. Burne was pissed.”

Greg heaved a sigh and pushed himself up on his elbows. The world tilted and swam, then slowly began to right itself again. He sat up all the way.

“Fantastic,” he muttered.

Greg reached down and ran his hand along his metal arm. The secret was out. Slowly, he clenched the silver hand into a fist. Maybe it was time he put the thing to use. It could definitely take a long more punishment than a regular arm...

“You didn't kiss me.” He stared at her.

She frowned. “I'm sorry. It's nothing personal, it's just...well, I don't know if you're still...infected. I guess. I mean, you might not turn, but you might be able to spread the infection now. I mean, it's unlikely, I think...but I don't know. I
do
know that if our roles were reversed, I'd never be able to live with myself if I infected you like that.”

“
Yeah, that makes sense. I guess we should try to run some medical scans when we get a chance. Until then, I'll just save it up,” Greg replied.

Kyra laughed and helped him up. He stood there for a moment, his equilibrium momentarily screwy. It settled faster than before. He looked down at himself, at his torn and bloodied uniform. His skin was still the same color. He turned, looked around and spotted a mirror over a sink across the way. He crossed the infirmary and stared at his reflection. His eyes looked normal, his teeth. Nothing was different.

“I think I'm okay,” he said. “I guess I can't get infected. I definitely don't want to go through that again. I
was
hallucinating, by the way. It was...ugly. Where's my gun? We should probably go figure out what the hell is happening.”

“
Here.” Kyra passed him his belt, which still had a holster and pistol attached to it. “I took it off. Didn't want you rolling over on your gun.”

“
Thanks.” Greg put it back on, pulled his pistol out and checked it.

Satisfied, he replaced the pistol and checked to see if his comms unit was still in his ear. It was. He was impressed that it hadn't fallen out in all the chaos.

“I turned it off,” Kyra said.

“
So thoughtful,” Greg replied with a smirk.

He turned the radio back on. Immediately, a babble of hectic voices, many of them on the verge of panic, filled his ear. He listened for a long moment and managed to piece together that the power outage was no mere accident.

“Come on,” Greg said, heading for the door.

Kyra grabbed her flashlight, which she'd set on another examination table, and Greg pulled out his pistol and flicked on the little light mounted on the end of the muzzle. He opened the door and peered cautiously into the corridor beyond.

There was nothing and nobody there, just darkness, but he could hear voices somewhere close by.

“
I'm not sure where we are, know how to get to the main hangar from here?” he asked.

“
Yeah, come on,” Kyra replied.

They stepped out into the corridor and set off.

* * * * *

The main hangar was in chaos.

Several work-lights, operating off a portable generator, had been set up. Most of them were pointed at the entryways. Dozens of men and women scurried about, all of them performing different tasks. Greg and Kyra moved through the chaos, ultimately finding Lynch, Mike, and Campbell centered around Powell's set up, which was still running.

“
Hey, what'd I miss?” Greg asked as they came to a stop.

Burne spun on him and raised his pistol.

“Whoa, whoa, relax,” Campbell said.

“
You shut up. You're lucky we let you in here without a leash,” Burne snapped.

“
Burne, relax,” Lynch said. Her voice brooked no argument. Burne reluctantly lowered his pistol, but didn't put it away.

Lynch cast an appraising eye over Greg, her gaze lingering briefly on his metal arm, which was exposed now. “He's not drooling, not trying to kill me, his eyes look fine. I don't think he's a zombie, Burne.”

“He's a special case. They told me he was at ground zero,” Burne replied.

“
Yes, I heard all that over the radio. If there's one thing I've learned about this infection, it's that it's not a subtle thing. Besides, we've got bigger things to worry about right now. Our primary generator failed and no one can tell me why. Which means someone's going to have to go down there and eyeball it in person,” Lynch replied.

“
I'll go,” Greg said.

“
Figured as much,” Lynch replied. “This might be serious, so I'll let you take both your friends and some of mine. Campbell, Mercer, Mike, and Linda, you guys get to gear up and go down with Bishop to the generator. Mike, you know where it is, get them there. Linda, fix it, figure out what the problem is.”

There were a handful of affirmative replies and the group broke away. Greg heard Burne arguing with Lynch, but put it out of his mind. He tried to be angry at the man for threatening him, but couldn't. Greg would have done the same thing if their roles had been reversed. Even he wasn't sure about his own virulence.

He put his pistol back and grabbed a shotgun and a rifle, making sure he was loaded down with ammo, as he'd lost his arsenal back in the garage. Greg took stock of himself as he moved with the group out of the hangar and down a corridor. His dizziness had passed, he didn't have a headache, his body kind of ached, but nothing felt terminally wrong within him. Of course, he knew he'd need to have an in-depth scan.

They found a hatch that would take them down to the tunnels, which was, apparently, where they kept their primary generator. Greg made sure to go down first, since he now knew that being hit by the infection wasn't a death sentence, just a painful inconvenience. He hurried down the ladder and hopped off when he got to the bottom, landing in a small storage room. After clearing it, he moved over to the door and opened it up.

A pitch-black, rocky tunnel lay beyond. Greg listened as the others joined him. Things moved in the tunnel, lurking in the shadows.

“
Don't forget to watch out for Speed Demons, or Rippers,” he called back to them as they gathered in the storage room.

“
Or any of the other bullshit we've run into,” Campbell muttered unhappily.

Greg chuckled. “Anyway, it looks clear for now, come on.”

He'd already turned on the flashlight mounted on the end of his shotgun. He played it across the area again as he stepped out, moving it in a slow, broad arc.

“
Which way?” he asked.

“
To the right,” Mike replied. “It's a door along the left-hand side of the tunnel, maybe twenty meters down, not too far away.”

“
Good. Let's get going.”

The group moved out into the tunnel and set off. As they came closer to the generator, Greg became convinced he could hear conflict. It came to him in bits and pieces, echoing through the dead darkness of the mining tunnels. Gunshots, roars, the hectic, chaotic sounds of battle. He didn't hear any screaming though.

A thought occurred to him.

“
You guys hear that?” he asked.

“
Yeah,” Kyra replied.

“
Me too,” Campbell said.

“
I think it might be the Augmented fighting the Undead,” Greg murmured.

“
Thank God. Those two can keep each other busy,” Mike replied.

When they reached the primary generator, the sounds of conflict had grown steadily louder and clearer. Further down the way, the tunnel lit with gunfire, tracers, and the occasional explosion. Greg opened the door to the generator room and looked around. He didn't see anything waiting for them and stepped in.

“Come on, looks clear,” he murmured.

The others joined him inside, their flashlights lighting up the room. Greg studied the generator room. It was mostly an empty space, big, but not enormous like a warehouse or cavern. There were some tables and shelves pushed up against the walls to either side of him, and what might have been a few workstations. The far wall was taken up entirely by diagnostics equipment and readout screens. It served as an outer casing for the generator itself.

“Alright, come on, Linda, let's check this out,” Mike said.

They crossed the room. Greg frowned. He heard something that sounded like metal scraping, very gently, against something else. He looked around, his gaze sweeping the room. There was nowhere to hide. Not under the tables, not behind shelves, not in the shadows, they revealed nothing. Where could it possibly be coming from?

There was nowhere to hide...except-

Greg looked up.

He screamed.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Greg raised his gun. The others shifted, looking around for whatever unseen threat had caused his reaction. Overhead, he saw half a dozen Augmented Drones attached to the ceiling, lying in wait.

They detached themselves, letting gravity take them...

All hell broke loose.

The Drones dropped among the survivors. Greg leveled his shotgun at one and blew its head clean off. One of them spun around and hit Campbell squarely in the chest, sending him flying. Mike let out a sharp bark of pain as one managed to clip his arm with a blade. Gunfire erupted. Kyra hit one with a three-round burst from her rifle. Linda put her pistol to one Drone's face and emptied half a magazine into it.

Greg grunted as one of them slammed into him, trying to bring him to the ground. He rolled as he fell and it lost its grip on him. Someone ran up and shot it in the head. As he scrambled to his feet, he saw that they'd managed to put down all six of them.

“Holy
shit
,” Linda whispered harshly. “That was a hell of a trap.”

“
Yeah. Fucking
stupid
, I should've seen that.” Greg helped Campbell to his feet. “You okay?”

“
Yeah. Don't think I cracked anything,” he replied miserably.

“
They had to have killed the power,” Mike said.