No Mere Zombie: Deathless Book 2 (23 page)

“A giant?” Cyntia rumbled, her blonde fur barely visible in the near darkness.

Irakesh was genuinely surprised. It should have been impossible for any memory of the Anakim to survive. “Just so. How do you know of them?”

“From the Bible,” Cyntia explained, giving a furry shrug. “The Anakim were giants. My mother used to scare me with stories when I was little.”

“You’re going to make a biblical giant?” Trevor asked, raising an eyebrow. He rested the barrel of a rifle against his shoulder, the weapon cradled with the same casual familiarity Irakesh exhibited with his na-kopesh.

“A giant, yes. But I seriously doubt it will resemble anything from your silly book,” Irakesh said, turning back to the horde of nascent deathless. He scanned the crowd, looking for the best candidate to begin his work. “There. Do you see that one with the bristly hair? The tall one.”

The deathless he’d indicated stood at least seven feet tall, an extreme rarity in his time. It was heavily muscled, probably a combatant in one of the games the moderns called sports.

“I see him,” Trevor allowed, taking a step closer as his gaze landed on the deathless Irakesh had indicated. “What are you going to do?”

Irakesh didn’t answer, instead raising a hand and aiming three fingers at the deathless. He concentrated for a long moment, gathering the energy until his hand began to glow. Emerald light banished the shadows as his hand grew brighter, the sudden illumination drawing every eye in the hangar. Each deathless stared hungrily at his hand, all sensing the power there and understanding on some dim level that it would make them stronger.

A bolt of light shot from Irakesh’s hand, streaking into the large deathless’s chest. It played across his entire body, crackling like lightning as the change began. The deathless’s eyes flared green, and his teeth began to lengthen. Then he lunged suddenly, seizing the corpse of a slight woman like a wolf might a hare. He began to feed, as urgently as Cyntia in the throws of her most berserk fury.

“What did you do?” Trevor asked. His eyebrows drew together as he studied Irakesh’s creation.

“I have accelerated his metabolism,” Irakesh explained, using words that would be familiar in this age. He allowed himself a slight smile as the change continued. “For the next few hours the Anakim’s hunger will be even more insatiable than usual. He will devour every nascent deathless he can reach. Each one will make him larger and stronger. In an hour he will be taller than Cyntia.”

Irakesh needn’t have bothered explaining, for the change was clear enough for any to see. The Anakim’s shoulders and chest began to expand, tearing apart the shirt that it wore as they grew larger. The creature took a step towards another victim, gaining several inches of height even as it did so.

“If we had weeks I could make it strong enough to crush the Ka-Dun following us, but even this pitiful creature will be a threat,” Irakesh said, giving a low laugh. He turned to face the largest plane in the hangar, one near the wide doors leading to the runway. “Come, we have work to be about.”

He strode deeper into the hangar, dimly aware of the Anakim growing larger behind him. Bones cracked and popped as it fed, low grunts growing deeper as the creature's strength increased.

Chapter 37- Satisfaction

Blair couldn’t help but grin as he wallowed in childish delight. He leaned back against the jeep’s cracked leather seat, throwing an arm over the back of Steve’s uncomfortable spot in the middle. A glower descended, clearly making Steve’s displeasure known. It warmed Blair.

For so many years he’d trailed after Steve in college and then later grad school. It had always galled him how easily things came to Steve back then. Steve had the grades. He had the body. He had the women. So many women. He was notorious at parties from Stanford to Berkeley.
 

Blair had struggled for his grades while gorging on too many late night cafeteria pastries. Steve’s dorky friend. It was embarrassing to think about, but at the same time liberating. He’d just proven to himself that he wasn’t that guy anymore. He’d grown and changed in so many ways. He was Steve’s equal. Hell, maybe his better if he hadn’t just gotten lucky back there.
 

“Bridget,” Jordan called over his shoulder from the passenger’s seat. “I brought an extra couple clips for that .460 I gave you earlier. Might save your ass if we get into an extended firefight.” He offered a pair of heavy black clips over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Bridget called back, shifting in her place on the other side of Steve. She took the ammo, tucking the clips into her pants pockets. Blair was impressed by how naturally it seemed to come, the ammo and the weapon belted to her thigh. She’d been spending a lot of time with Jordan and it looked as though it had paid off.

Blair’s hand lay tantalizingly close to the soft curve of her shoulder. He remembered her leaning into him while they stared out across Lake Sonoma or in front of the fire in their first apartment. He smiled, withdrawing his arm and dropping it into his lap to give Steve a little more room. It wasn’t smart treading over those memories, but for the first time in a while they didn’t hurt. Did that mean he’d moved on? To what?

“Eyes front,” Jordan boomed. He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned out the window, anchoring himself to the chair with his legs. Blair leaned out his own window and shaded his eyes as he scanned the road ahead. What had Jordan spotted?

A vast airport equal to anything back in the States sprawled before them, curiously devoid of zombies. Not a single figure moved between the planes on the tarmac, or anywhere inside the wide windows on both floors of the terminal. That shouldn’t be possible.
 

“This place should be crawling,” Blair said, ducking back into the car. Bridget and Steve were looking in his direction, but Liz was focused on driving. “Where the hell are all the zombies?”

“We saw Irakesh control them before,” Liz said over her shoulder. The jeep rumbled down a steep hill maneuvering around a battered Volkswagen. She reached out and tugged Jordan back into his seat. The ease of it made Blair shudder. “Jordan, what would you do if you could control a horde of zombies and knew we were coming?”

The taller man pursed his lips as he scanned the tarmac, wheels clearly turning as he assessed.

“I’d concentrate most of them around my objective, as tightly as possible. I might send a significant force to delay the enemy, but only if I could do it without giving away my position. I’m guessing his objective is a hangar here, so that means if we go tarmac to tarmac we’ll find him eventually.” Jordan replied, turning to eye Blair over his sunglasses. “Can you give us a hint? I know you can feel him.”

“Give me a sec,” Blair said, closing his eyes. He reached out, allowing his senses to roam the area. He sought a certain resonance, half feeling half intuition. There. A strong pulsing, like a heartbeat. It was stronger than it had been before and he’d picked it up much more quickly. Did that mean Irakesh was closer?
 

It does, Ka-Dun. He is near. Be wary. That one is exceedingly dangerous.

The beast’s voice was a welcome presence. It was truly a part of him now. He opened his eyes. “Over there, to the left. It’s one of those warehouse-looking buildings on the far side of the airport.”

“Those are private hangars,” Jordan replied. He removed his glasses, delivering a sobering look as he turned to face the back seat.
 
“One of them is the Mohn facility I told you about. Where the nuke was stored. I’ve only been inside once and I didn’t see much, but the building houses a full Mohn facility.”

Blair supposed even a man with a rank like commander wasn’t privy to everything. It was still odd seeing a gap in Jordan’s knowledge, though.

“You think Irakesh is heading for it? How could he possibly know it even exists?” Liz asked, glancing at Jordan as she guided the jeep onto the road paralleling the airport. It led directly to the private hangars.

“I can steal memories. What if he can, too?” Blair said, chilled by the thought. How old was Irakesh? If the deathless could plunder memories, how much did he know about the world? How many lives had he lived?
 

“It’s possible,” Jordan allowed, turning to face the road. “There were three people at the Ark who knew about this place. Both were extracted when you attacked. Corporal Yuri Filipov and Major Sanders. Both left by helicopter. If either went down in the CME, I guess Irakesh might have found the wreckage. Maybe he captured one of them or has some other way of learning this location. Either way it seems unlikely he’d show up at the exact spot Mohn was storing a nuke unless he knew about it.”

“So we assume he’s there and that the nuke is his objective,” Liz said. She romped on the gas, sending the jeep jolting forward. The hot wind whipped Blair’s hair about as he scanned the buildings ahead. “Whether it is or not, we go to the one Blair says. I’ll just keep driving until you give us a target.”

Blair stared hard out the window, watching the eight-foot chain fence roll by as they passed the first of the hangars. There were roughly a dozen, lining both sides of the cracked asphalt. A few cars dotted the road, but the place was eerily empty. A tomb to mark the passing of an entire civilization.

The sun hung low in the sky, threatening to sink into the vast Pacific that swallowed the western and southern horizons. It cast a bloody hue over the buildings, a fitting mood for the work they were about to engage in. What would Irakesh do if they finally caught him? What hidden powers did he possess?

“There,” Blair called, stabbing a finger out the window. He could feel the pulse now, strong and clear. “That building on the right. Three down. He’s in there. I’m sure of it.”

Liz gunned it, tires squealing as she jerked the wheel left. They shot through an opening in the fence, the jeep bouncing as a tire hit the curb. The air reeked of burnt rubber and exhaust as they rocketed towards the building Blair had indicated. There wasn’t a single plane, bus or car in the vicinity.
 

The wide chrome hangar grew larger as Liz gave the vehicle still more gas. Was she going to slow down? It didn’t matter, not to him. He was still thinking like a human, but he’d become far more than that. Blair blurred.
 

Liz’s copper hair writhed in the wind like a mass of tiny snakes, fanning backwards on either side of the headrest to his place in the back of the car. Steve was just beginning to turn his head, mouth slowly opening. His chest expanded as he sucked in a breath to say something. Then Blair was gone.

He opened the door, rolling onto the hot asphalt. The jeep lumbered next to him, a snail creeping along. It would take an eternity for it to reach the hangar. He blazed forward, wind ripping at his clothing as he crossed the distance to the small door set into the center of the hangar. Forty-six was emblazoned above it in crisp red letters, as if painted onto the blinding metal surface just the day before.
 

Blair rolled into a crouch before the door, slowly standing until his face was even with the little window. It too was mirrored. That made sense, of course. Mohn wouldn’t leave an obvious way to see into one of their facilities, especially not one where a nuke was being held. No matter. He cocked his arm back, balling his hand into a tight fist. He blurred forward, punching it through glass in a spray of tiny shards.

A cyclone of dust burst next to him as Steve’s black-clad form appeared in a crouch. “We should wait for the others. They can’t move as swiftly as we can and we don’t want to get overrun.”

“Jordan can. Besides, the thing I’ve been chasing for weeks is right behind that door. He could be boarding an aircraft as we speak. You and I need to delay him until the others arrive,” Blair growled, planting his foot against the door. He shifted, kicking with all his might. The door was flung inward, rattling an erratic path across smooth concrete. The tattered remains of his t-shirt still clung to his furry shoulders.

“All right,” Steve agreed, giving a tight nod. “But we’re telling the others this was your idea.”

Blair grinned back, striding into the hangar’s dim silence. His eyes adjusted, revealing several massive shapes. Planes, all of different sorts. There were four of them. The closest was a Cessna about the same size as Garland’s. He paused, straining his senses. He heard nothing, but what did he smell? The cloyingly sweet stench of rotting meat.
 

Shapes moved in the darkness, shambling towards them in a mindless mass. So many. A wave of low moans broke over them.

“What’s your plan, Blair?” Steve asked, more than a little smug. He shifted, his clothing vanishing into his midnight fur. How the hell did he do that?

“I can feel him that way,” Blair said, pointing towards the farthest of the bulky shapes. It was a massive cargo plane of the kind used in every military movie from the past two decades. Large and squat with four engines and a long ramp extending down the back. “He’s inside that plane. Right now. We just have to get there.”

“That’s going to be a problem,” Steve said, grabbing Blair’s shoulder. He pointed into the darkness. “A big problem.”

The ground shook as a massive figure pounded a path towards them. It towered over the other zombies, a good ten or eleven feet tall and wider than any linebacker he’d ever seen. The thing made Liz-wolf look like a puppy. The giant resembled the other zombies, pale flaccid skin and too-white, razored teeth. Yet where they wore dull vacant expressions its eyes shone green with cunning. Where they shambled it thundered, massive muscles bunching as it surged towards them. It moved so swiftly, knocking shorter zombies aside like kindling as it approached.