No Mere Zombie: Deathless Book 2 (27 page)

It was incredibly difficult with them rolling around. The blonde seized Liz, slamming her face into the concrete in a spray of blood and broken teeth. He used the split second to align the crosshairs with the blonde’s face, then squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked, kicking against his shoulder with incredible force as a deafening boom tore through the hangar. A gout of flame left the muzzle, hurling the bullet towards his intended target.
 

It never hit. A figure blurred into view about midway between him and his target, a familiar man with red—almost orange—hair and a sea of freckles. As ginger as they came. His eyes were horrible pools of green and his teeth razored fangs, every bit a deathless. He ripped a hunk of metal from the wing of a neighboring aircraft, somehow managing to interpose it between the bullet and the blonde werewolf. It impacted with a hollow ringing like some giant gong, knocking Trevor back a step.

“I haven’t enjoyed anything since I was turned,” Trevor said, casually tossing the improvised shield to the concrete with a clatter. He took several unhurried steps towards Jordan, hand falling to a holstered weapon at his side. Jordan wasn’t sure what caliber it was, but he’d guess .45. A heavy round used for taking a man off his feet, perfect for a deathless as it could slow prey. “Not until now, anyway. I’m glad you didn’t die when I shot you in the head. I want you to see my face when I kill you. To know my name. You blew up my fucking house in San Diego, do you remember that? You tried to kill my sister. It’s time for some payback.”
 

His grin was unnerving, but Jordan refused to be cowed. He considered what he knew about his opponent. Trevor Gregg, Liz’s brother and the man who’d accurately predicated the solar event that had forever changed the world. The man who’d held open the jaws of Mohn’s ambush back in San Diego, then led his friends all the way to the Ark where they’d stopped his team and woken the Mother. In a way Trevor was his antithesis, more so now that he was deathless.

“When I came after you before, I was doing the wrong thing for the right reasons,” Jordan said, tossing his rifle to the concrete as he unlimbered his claws. "Now I’m doing the right thing for the right reasons. You’ve become a goddamn monster, Trevor and I’m going to put you down like one.”

“You’re going to try,” Trevor hissed, eyes flaring even as he faded from sight. Damn but Jordan hated the whole shadow walking thing everyone but him seemed capable of doing.
It put him on the defensive, allowing Trevor to make the first move. To strike on his terms. That almost guaranteed he’d lose. So what could he do about it? Jordan blurred, zipping across the concrete and weaving between the few straggling zombies still on their feet. He rolled under an aircraft, coming up in a crouch on the far side. Nothing he’d just done would shake Trevor, but keeping on the move would make it harder for his opponent until he could come up with a way to even the odds.

In the distance Liz continued her fight with the blonde female, apparently getting the worst of the exchange. One of her eyes was swollen shut and she was missing teeth on her right side. Her chest heaved from exertion, each swing coming a bit slower than the one before. He wasn’t going to find help in that quarter. Hell, she was the one who needed help.

He felt rather than saw a shape materialize behind him. Jordan rolled to his right, a sharp crack sounding as a bullet hummed through the space he’d just occupied. It punched into the concrete, sending up a spray of fragments that drew a line of pain down his cheek. That wasn’t a .45. It was too deep, too powerful. What the hell kind of rounds was he using? No wonder he’d gone down so hard when Trevor had first shot him.

Trevor was gone again, melting into the shadows with that awful grin plastered on a too-white face. Jordan moved again, this time rolling to the left and coming up in a crouch. He sprinted low across the hangar floor towards a Cessna on the far side. This wasn’t going at all well and he wasn’t sure how to turn it around. Normally his response in a tactical cluster fuck like this would be to flee. If only that were an option.

Jordan skidded to a halt next to the Cessna, spinning so his back faced it. Trevor would have to come at him from the front, but would that knowledge help? He might be able to dodge again, but sooner or later he’d be too slow and Trevor would pick him off. He needed some way to even the odds, and he needed to do it quickly. He scanned the hangar, hoping to find something of use.
 

Zombies shuffled around most of the planes, but their numbers had been thinned by the beleaguered werewolves. Corpses littered the hangar, some in piles. There was even a massive zombie corpse, perhaps fifteen feet tall. It was sprawled near a far Boeing cargo plane, still clutching a severed leg with auburn fur.
 

None of it helped. None of it provided an advantage against Trevor. He was outclassed and he knew it.
 

Jordan tensed as something materialized before him, but it was far too late. Trevor’s fist blurred towards his chest, shattering his ribcage directly over the heart. Fragments of bone burst through his aorta, tearing his heart into useless slag. He tried to roll backwards, but Trevor had apparently anticipated such a move. The deathless leapt backwards, jerking the massive black pistol from its holster and gripping it with both hands as he sighted down the barrel. He squeezed the trigger three times in rapid succession, each belching a round into Jordan’s already damaged chest.

Jordan collapsed in a heap, strength deserting him as he struggled to rise. This was it. Trevor had proven the stronger combatant, using his deathless powers with expert skill. Perhaps if Jordan had embraced his with the same zeal he might have had a chance, but instead he’d relied on his training and his weapons. It had been a mistake. A fatal one. He stared defiantly up at his opponent as he waited for death.

Something black and shiny swooped into view, landing on Trevor’s shoulder. It was a raven. A big one. The bird croaked something that might have been words into Trevor’s ear. Trevor turned a hateful gaze on Jordan as he holstered his weapon. “I’m going to let you live with this, Jordan. The knowledge that all your training and fancy military hardware didn’t mean shit in the end. That you lost to a redneck scientist who never spent a day in the military. Have fun with your new playmates.”

Just like that he was gone, swallowed by the shadows like some horrible nightmare. Why hadn’t Trevor finished him off? It made no sense. Unless he knew something Jordan didn’t. New playmates? He struggled into a sitting position, planting his back against the Boeing’s large wheel. He was growing lightheaded, which made sense if his heart was no longer pumping blood.

He could feel it knitting together inside his chest, excruciating as bits of bone were ejected from his tissue. They burst from his skin, coated in thick sticky blood. Then his heart began to beat again. The lightheadedness faded and he was able to focus on his surroundings. He struggled to his feet, turning towards Liz and her strange blonde opponent. Or rather where her strange opponent had been.

Liz was alone, kneeling on the ground with shoulders slumped. She was a mass of blood and both eyes were closed, though even from this distance he could hear her shallow heart beat. She’d clearly lost her fight, yet her opponent had vanished just as Trevor had. They’d been beaten, yet left to live. Why?
 

 
Jordan used some of his dwindling energy to blur to Liz, wrapping an arm under her shoulder. He hauled her to her feet, conscious of the dozen or so zombies closing on them. Where were Blair, Steve and Bridget?
 

He was about to carry Liz to a corner when something roared by above the hangar. He knew the sound intimately. It was the thundering engines belonging to a B114 cargo plane, used exclusively by Mohn to deliver troops into combat zones. Several thumps sounded above as the roar faded.

His augmented hearing picked up the squeal of rubber on pavement as the plane touched down outside. They were landing, but had probably dropped two squads on the roof to begin securing the hangar. Reinforcements would follow quickly, and they were in no shape to fight back.

“What’s going on?” Liz croaked, raising her one good eye to look at him. He’d never seen her so exhausted, so battered.

“We’re in a whole lot of trouble. Irakesh just pulled back,” Jordan explained, helping Liz towards the far wall.

“Why? We’re losing,” she slurred, not healing nearly as quickly as he’d have expected.

“Mohn is here,” he replied grimly.

Chapter 43- Desperate Gamble

Blair raised a hand to his forehead, squinting beneath the weight of the pain. The throbbing left in the wake of his forcible ejection from Irakesh’s mind staggered him, pitching him into the side of a plane’s huge rubber wheel. He blinked away tears, scanning the wreckage littering the hangar. Most of the zombies were down, minus the odd straggler. There was no sign of Bridget, though he could see Steve’s glittering eyes from where he crouched in the far corner of the room. Unmolested. Had he participated in the battle, or stood by to protect himself?

 
It didn’t matter. There was still a battle to fight. Blair turned his attention back to the hangar, scanning for survivors. His breath caught, eyes tearing when he finally located Liz. Her broken body sagged into Jordan’s smaller form, threatening to collapse without his assistance. At least she was alive. Powerful relief flooded him, his body uncoiling as the tension ebbed.
 

Cyntia had retreated for some reason. So had Trevor apparently. He knew Irakesh was gone. What were they planning? He turned his attention to the fat cargo plane. It hadn’t moved, though he could still hear the audible clicking as it fueled. They must be inside. If he was going to launch an attack he needed help. Who was still standing on their side?

Jordan’s hulking form limped as he helped Liz towards the far wall. He wasn’t in much better shape than she was. Blair heard a grunt of pain from across the hangar, a rare show of emotion from the normally stoic ex-Mohn officer.
 

Irakesh
was
going to flee, he was sure of it. But where? Blair had no idea how the deathless knew what a nuke was, much less what the bastard had planned for it. Cities had become deathtraps full of potential new soldiers he could use. Why blow one up? If that wasn’t the purpose, then what was? Maybe he could use it on the Mother, though how he intended to deliver the weapon was a mystery. Pilot the plane all the way back? No, that wasn’t his style. Irakesh wouldn’t risk the Mother’s wrath. He knew he was outmatched, or why flee in the first place?

Blair lurched forward, catching himself against the cool metal of a wing. He barely saw the aircraft, his attention focused on Jordan and Liz. The former Mohn soldier had picked Liz up, but seemed unsure where to move her. He glanced around the hangar, finally catching sight of Blair. Jordan started in his direction, then abruptly froze. His gaze went skyward.

An engine screamed in the distance. A plane engine, one approaching very rapidly. It was the first aircraft Blair had heard since the world had ended. Who was it? Who had both the technology and knowledge to find this hangar, of all places in the world? Boots thumped on the roof above. There was only one group it could be, one thorn always in their side. Did Mohn know they were inside, or were they here for their nuke?

The far side of the hangar erupted inward, launching zombies into the air like toys. Two smaller explosions sounded above as bits of metal rained down. Soldiers rappelled through the holes, even as a massive form appeared in the gaping rent now dominating the hangar’s south wall. It lumbered forward with a metallic pumping of pistons, a chrome behemoth even taller than the giant zombie Liz had slain.
 

Familiar suits of power armor flooded in behind it, fanning out around the mech like foxes around a wolf. Lines of red shone from above, the laser sights attached to rifles. They were surrounded and in no shape to fight. Blast it. They were too beat up to take on both sides.
 

“Blair, we have to go,” Bridget hissed from the shadows behind him. “We can’t fight them.”

She was right and he knew it. He gave Jordan and Liz an agonizing glance. They stood in the pool of light cast by one of the holes in the ceiling. The mech was already making for them as a dozen barrels swung in their direction.
 

“She’s right,” Steve whispered, appearing in a crouch next to Bridget. “We have to get out of here, Blair. We can’t help them, only die ourselves. If we’re lucky they’ll take care of Irakesh, but if we want to live we move. Now.”

“Fine,” Blair growled, anger surging through him. There weren’t any other options, but he hated having to run. Again. “We’ll fall back through that rent. Bridget, stick to the shadows and meet us outside.”

He blurred without waiting for an answer, following the shadowed wall of the hangar until he reached the hole left by the massive machine Mohn had brought. Two suits of power armor guarded it, but the hole was a good twelve feet high. He leapt, twisting in midair even as the pair spun to face him.

Steve barreled into the back of the suit on the right, seizing the helmet in both hands and twisting with incredible strength. The armor’s arms shot up to stop him, but too late. Steve’s furred muscles tensed, and the armored helmet twisted. The man’s neck and skull were crushed, sending the armor toppling to the ground.

Bridget materialized in midair above the second armored suit, landing heavily on its back and driving it into the pavement with incredible force. She brought both fists down onto its shoulders, crushing the armor-like tinfoil. It was truly terrifying to witness, reminding him of just how much stronger females were. At least she was on his side.