Necrotech (27 page)

“Yeah, no shit.”

“I'm at the roof's edge now,” I told them. I peered over it, down at the street we'd run across and both ways. Nothing moved, no creepy crawling psycho machines, no drones humming. Only the slightly less irritating pressure behind my eyes.

“Marks?” asked Indigo.

“Nothing.”

“That's one thing going right, anyway.”

Or was it? I crouched on the ledge, cradling the Sauger with one hand, balancing myself with my left. “Zoom in twenty-five percent.” The heads-up acquiesced, turning the faceplate into a telescopic lens and magnifying my view. “Digo, you saw Falk get hit, right?”

“Yeah.”

A nerve twitched in the curve of one shoulder. I resisted the urge to rub at it. It wouldn't help. Paranoia was settling over me in a big way. “So there shouldn't be nothing,” I pointed out. “Unless there's a necro we missed with weapon enhancements. Not impossible, I figure, but how probable?”

“The Vid Zone doesn't have a runner shack that I know of, but who knows what that chopshop was doing?”

Too many what-ifs. I wrinkled my nose. “Thermals on,” I said, a low voice command.

This would be so much easier, and quieter, if I was actually wired into the armor, but I didn't have the appropriate tech and that kind of long-term commitment to Mantis made my skin itch.

Obediently, the night vision faded, coloring the world in an eerie black, contrasted by ghostly outlines of the metal towers surrounding me. Glancing down at myself turned my silhouette a somewhat less ghostly white, but not the stark contrast I expected. Shielded and temp-controlled armor. Nice.

I turned my focus out over the ledge.

And nearly went ass-end over it. “Fuck me.” That
wasn't
quiet. What little calm I'd scraped together filled in with ice-cold terror.

“What do you see?” Indigo demanded. “What's going on?”

Where the hell to start?

W
hite
. Packs of it, blobs of it marked by the heads-up display and labeled as unidentified, some faded to a fainter shade of gray, some still stark against the black. The bigger the knot, the denser the silhouettes.

I backed away from the ledge. “They're everywhere,” I whispered. “We're surrounded, Digo. Go thermal, but brace yourself.”

“That's impossible,” control said tightly, and for the first time, her calm cracked. “There's no way there's that many converted in one place.”

“Then what the
fuck
are you seeing on my feed?” My anger came out a harsh hiss. Pain throbbed in my forehead, right over where I suspected a blood vessel threatened to burst.

“I… It's got to be some kind of...” Her voice trailed away, a masculine murmur filling the silence. As if she'd forgotten her mic was on, she yelled, “I don't give two shits if he's banging the CEO's wife, get hi–” The feed cut off.

“Riko, get back here,” Indigo demanded, and I didn't even bother with a quip. I obeyed.

When I scaled the ladder, landing beside Carter, I knew Indigo had followed my suggestion. There was a set to his shoulders, a watchful energy to him that was totally different than the usual run awareness I was familiar with.

He was spooked. Hard.

“You tell them yet?” I asked, open-feeding it.

He shook his head.

“Tell us what?” Carter asked, her voice dull.

I opened my mouth, but nothing that came to mind sounded gentle. I liked Carter. I didn't want to see her crack any more than she already had.

But, damn it, I needed these people on their feet.

Indigo ripped the scab off without my help. “We are surrounded by necros,” he said quietly. “They're in the buildings, not so much in the street as far as I can tell, but there's at least thirty in my immediate field.”

Hooker moaned. The kid was a mess, huddled over his drawn-up knees, rifle forgotten beside him. He rocked back and forth, his helmet wobbling like an overlarge knob on a pike.

He'd watched things go to hell for the first time, I bet. Lost a buddy, lost his cool.

I glanced at Indigo.

His helmet tipped in Hooker's direction. At least on this, we ran in synch.

I crossed the tiny alley, knelt, and rapped on his helmet with my knuckles. He jerked. “Earth to Hooker,” I said sharply. “You in there, kid?”

He shuddered, the sound he made not quite acknowledgment.

This time, I brought my fist down hard.
Thud.
The plating rattled.

His body unfolded, one foot catching me in the knee. “S-Stop!”

“I will when your balls drop,” I said, ignoring Indigo's sigh behind me. He didn't try to stop me, though. Hooker obviously hadn't responded to sympathy, which made it my turn. I smacked his helmet again. “Look at Carter. She's still standing. You going to let a chick's nanosteel dick outshine the real deal?”

He shook his head. To clear it or to deny my jibe, I couldn't tell, so I raised my hand to lay down another knock.

He threw his left fist up to block me. “Okay!” His voice sounded tragically young, but hey, at least I detected a note of determination. Finally. “Okay, I'm here. I'm focused. I... I just...”

This time, when my hand slipped beneath his guard, I laid my palm flat on his helmet. It wasn't exactly touchy-feely, but come on. I wasn't wired for tears and soft words of wisdom. “I get it,” was all I knew how to say.

Maybe it'd be enough. I'd operated on less.

When I rose, offering him that hand to help him up, he took it. I didn't know if he'd hold together, but I had to believe he'd try. It was the only way we'd all get out alive.

Carter sucked in a deep breath and let it out on a long, drawn out, “
Fu-u-uck
.” That cleared, she added, “What now?”

“Now,” Indigo said, “we do our jobs.”

“Still?”

“Still.”

I rubbed my hand across the faint seam at my shoulder. It wasn't aching; or if it was, I couldn't tell beneath my throbbing headache. Everything just felt
wrong
.

Indigo's faceplate rotated left to right, a slow, steady survey. “They're not moving. Why?”

“Let me go knock on a door and ask one,” I said dryly.

Hooker cleared his throat. “Are they... Do they only hunt at night?”

I shook my head. “That wouldn't make any sense.”

“They're just scarier at night,” Indigo said, candid but calm. “Theory time. Are they dead?”

“You mean besides the obvious?” I pointed a thumb back the way I'd come. “I saw a few milling around in small pockets, but most were immobile. I don't know that I'd count them out, though.”

Click.
Carter replaced her clip, her words carefully even. “Maybe they're hibernating.”

“Job's done, nothing left to rend, power down?” My attempt at levity fell flat, even to me. We were all feeling it. Paranoid. Cornered. Were they hearing the crackle, too?

I didn't dare ask, not as long as control was listening. I couldn't risk them pulling the plug, especially now that I bet Malik had been called in.

My jaw shifted.

“Any sign of that second team?” Indigo asked me.

Again, I shook my head. “If they're out there, they're just white blots in a sea of them.”

“Then we move out.”

Given our choices – stay and wait to be picked off when those things finally realized we were here or go, finish the job, and get the hell out – I couldn't agree more.

Carter visibly squared her shoulders. “Koupra. About the mine–”

“It's okay, Carter.” He didn't look at her, focusing on the Sauger he ran his hands over. “It wasn't your fault. Can you change the sec on your setup?”

“Yeah. Already did.”

“Then we're square. Hopefully it'll confuse whoever triggered the last one.”

And that was Digo. All around nice guy.

I bit my tongue before I said something stupid to ruin the effort.

“Hooker?” Indigo asked.

“I'm here.”

“Good.” His faceplate turned to me. “Riko? What's up with your vitals?”

Yeah, yeah. “I'm pissed.”

“Un-piss, I need your focus,” he said, and then let it go. “Here's the plan: we have two and a half hours left to get to the site and get our shit.” I refrained from pointing out that his sister had been filed under “shit”. I was in enough trouble for it already. “We stay low, we stay quiet. No noise.”

“What if they come at us again?” I asked.

“No noise,” he repeated. “Melee weapons first.”

“Balls.” As a word, it didn't quite do my incredulity justice. “You want us to hand-to-hand these things?”

Indigo nodded. “That's exactly what I'm saying. Use the EMP if it gets tough. Quick, clean, no shot to wake the dead.”

I winced. “Thanks for that. Now I'm picturing a wave of necros shuffling down the street.”

Hooker's laugh was wan. “Maybe they just want our brains.”

“Shut up,” Carter snapped, shrugging like her skin was trying to crawl off. I sympathized. “I hate zombies.”

“Zombies are fiction,” Indigo cut in, his tone sharp. “
This
is a virus hacking hardware that doesn't belong to it. Let's get the hell out of here so the burn team can make it right.”

I preferred the zombie analogy to walking tech. Shuddering, I said nothing.

“We clear?” Indigo asked.

“Clear,” Carter said.

Hooker nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Riko?”

“Why am I always singled out?” I groused. “I shitting heard you.”

“Because you're a pain in the ass on a good day,” he replied, striding for the alley mouth. Hooker fell in behind him, the better to cover Digo if anything crawled out of the thermal dark, and Carter and I took the rear.

We all made an effort to keep quiet as we left the alley, sticking to the open street.

It was hell.

Under the thermal scanners, white shapes hunkered behind ghostly walls, huddled in knots. Most were still. Some shifted.

At least one darted suddenly from one point to another, causing my heart to lurch up into my throat, then splash down into the pit my stomach had turned into. Carter's hand spread on my shoulder, a sure grip that still shook.

She'd seen it too.

Every hair on my arm, the back of my neck, stood on end.

I'd never heard of anything like this. Necros were supposed to be rare, converting those caught between hookups, not districts.

We all expected them to jump out. To perk up like dogs scenting raw meat. Any moment, they'd come roiling out from the structures housing them, and my imagination wasn't doing me any favors.

“I hate you, Hooker,” I muttered.

He shrugged; I pretended it was an apology.

“Shut it,” Indigo said softly.

We managed quiet for another five minutes. Then Carter whispered, “Do you think any of them are just people hiding from the necros?”

We didn't answer her. Not even Indigo.

Somehow, that thought was worse.

The farther we walked, the uglier the droning noise in my head got, until every step was emphasized by the throbbing ache behind my eyes. I could see fine, but my hearing was taking an audible beating again.

“Anyone hear that?” I muttered, shaking my head and raising one hand to tap against the side of the helmet.

They all froze. Then, Hooker's shaking whisper. “No?”

Shit.

“What are you hearing?” Indigo asked me.

“A whine.” Again, I tapped my helmet. “Probably just some interference. Let's keep going.”

“What interference?” Hooker glanced at me over his shoulder. “The power's out.”

“But the bandwidth isn't,” Carter noted.

I squeezed my eyes shut, dragging my armored forearm across the faceplate. It didn't help. Despite the suit's temperature regulation, I was perspiring hard enough to taste salt on my lips. “Thermals off,” I muttered. The faceplate visuals faded to empty streets and wisps of smoke, all the lines outlining the silhouettes of my team turning green again.

With all the white blobs gone, I could almost trick myself into breathing normally again. Almost. My back teeth ached with the strain.

A breeze scattered the smoky drift, clearing aspects of the street as we forged through. Eerie as it was already, seeing the distant halo of the city lights thrust into the sky only made it worse.

So close to normality. And yet so fucking far.

The smoke moved in the corner of my eye, skated at the edge of the helmet's visibility range. Out of habit, I glanced left.

Fuck–

“Drop!” I shouted.

Merc or enforcer, everyone here knew that tone. We hit the pavement. A dull
whump
echoed us. I expected bullets; heard nothing but a whoosh of something sailing through the air and the distant clatter as it hit the building to my right. I was already rolling out of the way when someone – Carter, I think – opened fire. The Bolshovekia's report runs slightly sharper than the Sauger 877's.

In the orange flare of the muzzle flash, I caught the outline of two silhouettes, each wearing armor and darting back into the shadow.

All hell broke loose.

Another rapidfire hail of bullets, and whatever had taken root in my head detonated. Wave after wave of noise filled my aural synapses, blocked my ability to hear, even to see, as I staggered to my knees, swearing violently.

Hands gripped my shoulders. If their owner was talking to me, I didn't hear it. I couldn't hear it. Buzzing, ragged and nerve-shatteringly raw, filled my senses. My eyes crawled, my sinuses felt shoved full of static and pressure. If I opened my mouth, I didn't know if it'd be my voice or the pressurized drone escaping.

The hands yanked me to my feet. “Get– ... –ko!”

I blinked hard. Darkness filled my vision.

Something cracked against my helmet, rocked my head back on my shoulders and I flailed for balance before another set of hands grabbed my shoulders. Orange flares spattered the darkness.

I wasn't blind. I was just in the dark.

“Thermals,” I gasped.

The darkness transitioned to ghostly gray and I stared at Carter's silhouette as she dragged me at a dead run. The heads-up traced her outline, thin and red, and put her vitals in the stratosphere.

I found my feet with effort, forcing the words through my aching jaw. “They don't show.” My voice rasped. “They aren't showing in thermals!”

Indigo turned, his gun pointed at us, but he waited until we'd managed to sprint past him before laying down enough cover fire to empty his clip. I heard it clink to the ground. “And they're carrying monofilament nets.”

Carter let me go. “What the fuck happened?”

“You opened fire,” Indigo snarled, “and woke the goddamn host. Go!”

“Where?” Hooker asked, sounding more and more like a frightened rookie.

I shook myself hard, glancing from left to right and left again. “This way,” I shouted, and darted left through a sagging fence with rusted, broken metal sheaves.

“What's that way?”

I didn't know. I mean, I did, but I didn't. Somehow, I just knew that darting left through a sagging fence with rusted, broken metal sheaves was the way to go.

Behind me, the necros turned into flies, darting wall to wall, trapped in their little honeycomb of tenements and flats. Some had found a way out. I imagined I could hear them gurgling, gasping; sniffing our trail, hot meat and sour sweat.

“Follow her,” he ordered. “Go, go, go!”

I ran down a narrow passage between two sad little tenements, ducking under low-hanging laundry lines strung between the two. Hooker's rifle snagged in one, abandoned shorts wrapped around it, and he wasted precious seconds untangling the barrel while Indigo whirled and laid down another line of cover fire.