The Dying of the Light (Book 3): Beginning (22 page)

He just wished he knew where the hell they got so many of them.

“Betty, contact. REAPR activating.”

Carson just had time to cover his ears as the twin .50-caliber machine guns fired. They swiveled back and forth, tracking multiple targets. Following so close to the big vehicle, he couldn’t see the effects, but he had no doubt they were doing their job.

“Stryker, Romeo Six. Concentrate your fire on the roadblock when you see it. That’ll make it easier to punch through.”

“Roger that.”

The buildings began to get closer as they entered the town itself, and the road narrowed to two lanes. Mangled bodies lay beside the road, still dressed in what remained of their church garments. As he’d expected, the Church of Divine Judgment had ambushed them.

Suddenly, the machine guns tracked straight forward and began pounding something he couldn’t see. It had to be the roadblock.

“Hold on, Romeo Six. Ten seconds to roadblock. Heads up, lots of tangoes.”

Carson watched the rooftops and sidewalks as they sped along, firing as one or another zealot poked their head up. Most seemed to be running, unable to stand against the withering fire of the massive guns.

He felt the impact of the Stryker into the cars forming the roadblock as if it were his own vehicle. The explosion made his ears ring, and the wrecked cars tore through the remains of the buildings on either side. For its part, the Stryker didn’t pause, the chewed-up old cars not impeding its progress through the streets of the small town.

“We’re through, sir, we’re—”

The transmission broke off as a rocket hit the side of the Stryker, and both the rocket and the big vehicle vanished for a moment in a cloud of smoke and fire. Carson coughed as his Humvee, following close, also moved through the cloud. He spat out a mouthful of dust and smoke. Once out the other side, his vision cleared, and he could see one of the vehicle’s tires was a shredded mess. The other two on that side were picking up the slack.

“RPG!” he shouted into the radio. “Keep going!” There was no question of stopping or even slowing now. They had to get the less-armored cargo trucks through before the zealots reloaded their weapon… assuming they just had the one. “Lima Three, take out that rocket!”

He didn’t hear their confirmation of his order but continued firing at the crowds of zealots that ran toward him. “Where the fuck did they get all these people?” he asked aloud. His own gunner had opened up with the top-mounted machine gun on his vehicle and was laying waste to those on the opposite side of the street.

Carson risked a glance backward and saw the MTVs—medium tactical vehicles—behind him. They damn sure weren’t slowing, either. The men mounted in them fired in all directions. The armor plates on the sides of the cargo trucks showed dents and signs of small-arms fire but nothing larger. Not yet, anyway.

The Humvee swerved, and he drew back inside, looking at his driver. “What the fuck, Fasco?” he asked.

“Sorry, sir. At least one landmine just lying in the road, sir.”

Carson grunted. “Good eye. They don’t even know how to use a landmine. This is getting ridiculous. Bet they could still arm them, though.” He picked up the radio. “Landmines, people. Sharp eyes!” It was only pure dumb luck that the Stryker hadn’t hit one ye—

He felt the front of his Humvee tilt upward, and he went weightless for a moment. Time moved slow, and he turned to see Fasco’s face frozen in a scream. The windshield shattered inward, covering the driver in broken glass. Carson could see the ground approaching through the opening, which felt odd to him in that moment. The radio was making noises, but he couldn’t understand them.

The ground was much closer now and coming faster.

The first thing Rachel heard when she woke was ringing. Nothing else came through. She blinked the dust and dirt out of her eyes and took stock of her body’s aches and pains. Everything still felt attached, which was good, and nothing screamed at her when she made slow movements. She tried to ignore the smell of blood and cordite that suffused the area and fought to keep from sneezing. The dust cloud that had followed their attackers into the city wasn’t helping.

As she looked around, she realized she was sitting up against the side of the Humvee. She couldn’t remember how she got there, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the blood that coated the lower half of her uniform.

It wasn’t hers. It had come from the body of one of her fellow Hunters, the remains of which were lying across her lower legs. His torso lay shredded, leaving his upper body on one side of her and his legs half-covering hers. Though the sight would normally be traumatic, she was numb to it. She knew she was in shock, but again, it didn’t matter.

She tried to stand and discovered her legs wouldn’t respond. She didn’t feel any pain, and they looked okay, if covered in blood, but she couldn’t get up. Her body was refusing to go any farther. She strained again and felt a bit of strength return.

“Get up, Rachel,” she muttered. “Get your ass up. Find the others. GO! MOVE!”

She struggled to bring her legs under her, looking around for her rifle. There was one under the side of the Humvee near her, and that was good enough. She levered herself up using the weapon and the vehicle and took note of her surroundings.

It was a mess. It seemed as though half the street was on fire, with the buildings on either side burning bright. Abandoned for more than twenty years, they were dry and went up like matchsticks. She’d seen the same thing in Austin. She heard the crack of a pistol nearby and flinched. Then another and another.

“Time to get moving,” she said and looked into the Humvee for other survivors. No one in there, but no bodies either. That made sense. If the others were alive and thought she was dead, they’d get to safety to ride out the storm, so to speak. There was a chattering of machine-gun fire from farther into the town, and she recognized the sound of an AEGIS-issue AR-15 rifle. Moving toward it in a low crouch, she toggled the radio mic on her shoulder.

“Romeo Six, Hunter—” A fit of coughing interrupted her, and she tried her best to suppress it. “Hunter Three. Romeo Six, Hunter Three, come in.” She had no idea whether they’d received the transmission or not, but her radio appeared to be intact. She moved through the cloud of smoke and fire that was all that remained of one Humvee and paused as she sensed an empty space before her. No way to know what was in that smoke. Could be zealots, soldiers, or walkers. She crouched and scuttled to the side of the street that wasn’t burning and inched forward in as much cover as she could find.

A shadow ran through the smoke in front of her, and she flinched back. No AEGIS uniform, so not one of their people, and she was in no shape for hand-to-hand fighting at the moment. Her head still rang from whatever explosion or rocket had hit her Humvee, and she was more than a little disoriented. She waited until she was sure the shadow was gone, then crept forward once more.

There was no sign of the big cargo trucks, and she was glad of that, since they were carrying the vital medical treatment for Bunker Eight. There was no sign of anyone else either, though, and that had her worried. How far away were her people?

Another round of fire came from the machine gun ahead, and it was closer this time. She moved a little faster, relieved to see the bulk of the Stryker ahead of her, past the remnants of the roadblock she’d seen earlier. The Stryker appeared to be functional, which was excellent news. She coughed just as the smoke swirled around the big vehicle and two of the convoy soldiers appeared. One whirled toward her but held fire at the last second.

“Oh shit, sorry, ma’am,” he said, lowering the rifle.

“No problem, Private,” she replied and walked over to them. “Report!”

“We’re in the shit, ma’am,” he said. “At least two Humvees down, we can’t find Sergeant Carson, and the MTVs are mostly unprotected just outside of town.”

“What? Why? Get this Stryker moving ASAFP, soldier!”

“We didn’t know who was in command, ma’am.”

“I’m taking command in the absence of Sergeant Carson.” She whirled to the back of the Stryker and banged on the back until they lowered the ramp. “Get these men to the MTVs and hold position there until I come get you. Full REAPR activation, live targeting authorized. Those MTVs are the most important thing in your world, you get me?” The airman nodded and turned back to her control panel.

Rachel looked at one of the grunts outside and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “You, get in. Do not let them take the MTVs.” She looked at the other and continued. “You’re with me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the two men chorused, and one clambered up the ramp.

“Move out!” Rachel yelled, then waited until the Stryker’s ramp had started to come up and the vehicle rolled forward. It was all well and good to take command, but she had to be certain about Sergeant Carson before joining the others, and it was too dangerous to go alone.

“We’re not going to take chances,” she said to the soldier. “We need to locate any survivors and then rendezvous with the others at the MTVs.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” To his credit, he didn’t appear nervous, just numb, as she had been when she’d awakened.

“What’s your name, soldier?”

“MacPherson, ma’am.”

“Right, let’s go, Mac.” They crept forward to the next crumpled vehicle. She should’ve found the command Humvee before the Stryker, but she’d iron that out later. Right now, she just needed to find Carson. They’d already lost too many people.

She looked out from the cover of the Humvee and didn’t see any signs of the zealots. It was only then that she realized that the Humvee was actually upside down. She signaled Mac to move around the other side of the vehicle, and they crept forward. The Humvee’s roof had caved in, the doors blown out or crumpled inward and glass everywhere. She saw a moderate-sized pool of blood and began to doubt that anyone would be alive.

She crouched down farther and looked into the passenger compartment. The seat and roof pinned Sergeant Carson’s body. She looked past him and noted with clinical detachment the headless corpse of the driver, Fasco. A piece of thin metal had slid right through his neck and left his head somewhere… else.

She shook her head and pounded her fist into the side of the truck hard enough to dent it. “Motherfucker!” Rachel had liked both men, and now there was even more of a reason to hunt these bastard religious fucktards down to the last man. Not that there hadn’t been before.

A clawed hand grasped her leg, and she narrowly avoided screaming in shock. There was a wet cough and a rasp from the dead man.

“Get. Me. The fuck. Outta here.” Carson coughed again. “Now.”

She couldn’t believe the man was alive, and she forced down her relief. Now was not the time for emotion. Rachel took her Bowie knife from its comfortable slot on her hip and sliced through the straps holding the sergeant in place. There wasn’t room to get him out that way, so she stood up and ran around the vehicle. Together, she and Mac removed the body of Fasco, then helped Carson out and into a seated position.

The damage to the sergeant was severe, with burns or soot over most of his face and upper body. He coughed again, then looked at them both. “Mac, gimme your belt.”

MacPherson stood and took off his belt, handing it to Carson.

“Good,” he said. “Cover us while Maxwell here helps me tie off this leg.”

Mac nodded and took up his rifle again as he crouched and took cover.

Rachel was running on autopilot now. Her training and experience guided every action. She took the belt from the sergeant and wrapped it around the man’s torn and bloody left leg. She realized that must be what had created the pool of blood she’d seen. After she tied off the improvised tourniquet, the trio stood and limped toward the rendezvous point. They stayed to the side of the street to avoid any enemy contact.

Rachel tried her radio again. “Big Betty, Hunter Three. Come in.”

When she got no response, Carson coughed and shook his head. “No point. We’ll be there soon enough.”

Rachel nodded and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. A little while later, she switched off with Mac and crept forward. She scouted their position and made sure they weren’t walking into yet another ambush. It was only seconds later that she held up a closed fist, signaling to Mac to stop and take cover.

There was movement in the shadows of an alley ahead. She waited until she could make out the shape of a zealot as he hid against the rusting hulk of a dumpster. Inexpert hands had reworked and mended the rifle, but she was certain it would still kill her or her friends. Too bad for him that he would never get the chance to use it.

The shot from her rifle took him just under the right temple, spraying the wall behind him with blood that shone bright red in the sun. She waited for others to poke their heads out, but no other zealots appeared and no shots winged her way. She knelt and whistled for Mac and the sergeant to follow her.

They continued their creeping. Though Rachel didn’t know exactly where the remnants of the convoy were, she could follow the tracks of the laden MTVs in the dirt and cracked asphalt. The drivers had decided on the more prudent course and taken a circuitous route away from the roadblock. They’d managed to maintain a rough heading in the right direction—east, toward Amarillo, Abilene, and the Austin Free Zone.

They had gone another ten minutes toward their goal when there was the rattle-crack of several guns firing in sustained bursts from somewhere ahead. They all stopped to listen, and both Mac and Rachel turned to Carson.

He, too, listened as the gunfire continued, then slowed and stopped. “They’re okay,” he said, then motioned for them to continue.

As they began walking once more, Rachel threw a question back over her shoulder. “How can you be sure, sir?”

“Think about it, Lieutenant. If you’re in a firefight and you get overrun, what happens to your rate of fire?”

“It would stop… Oh, I see. They’re fine, because their rate of fire ended slowly instead of all at once. I wouldn’t have considered that.”