The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion Book 2) (3 page)

Probably Admiral Kirkpatrick had come up with the name. The elderly soldier was so well respected, he’d been allowed to keep his rank from his pre-Bastion days. He’d been in a navy and led one of the last human armadas before it had to be abandoned due the difficulties of maintaining a healthy community on the sea.

The first room the group encountered was in the front of the building near the broken windows. Years of exposure to the elements had rotted the broken office furniture and allowed nature to creep inside. The walls were covered in thick vines and a carpet of mildew made the floor slick beneath the soles of their boots. The squad warily sidled into the room, cautious of the many hiding places. The sensors were struggling to pick up readings, and the information scrolling on Torran’s helmet screen didn’t inspire confidence. There were blanks in many of the entries.

“Trust your eyes more than your feed,” he instructed.

Torran approached the far wall, the muzzle of his large weapon aimed at the tangle of vines. This would be a great place for the Abscrags to attack. Goodwin edged forward and dragged a huge swatch of the leafy curtain to one side with one rapid tug while Torran prepared to fire. There was nothing hiding behind the vines except a wall covered in mold. Around the room, the rest of the squad followed the same procedure. Each time the vines were drawn to one side, Torran’s heart beat a little harsher.

“Clear,” voices said over the comm, one by one.

The layout of the building loomed in the upper right-hand corner of Torran’s visor. There were only three other rooms the Scrags could have entered. The rest of the building was protected by blast doors at the end of the long, winding corridor. Torran knew for a fact that on the other side of those doors, only the truly dead remained.

When the gate to the valley had been compromised and the Inferi Scourge rushed through, killing everything in sight, the mine personnel had shut down the facility and retreated behind the safety of the blast doors. An underground train ran from the mining facility to The Bastion. There was a loading station inside the mine and an employee station beneath the building. It would have been a perfect way to escape into the city, but all the subway stations and tunnels had been cut off immediately when the gate had been compromised. Twenty people had starved to death waiting for a rescue that never happened because it had been deemed it too risky. Images of their mummified corpses had been part of Torran’s debriefing. He couldn’t imagine the terror and hopelessness they’d experienced. It was obvious from the way the Abscrags had burrowed through the safety glass that they had hoped to reach the train tunnels.

The shots from outside diminished to a few short bursts, and then were silent. The two squad members he’d left guarding the front entrance gave him the clear signal, and he nodded.

“Move on,” he ordered.

With deft motions, Torran ordered the squad to split into groups. Goodwin, Jonas, and two other soldiers followed him while the other teams moved deeper into the building through the long hallway. The vid screens that once displayed work schedules, the latest information on the amount of coal extracted, and city news were now white squares in the inverted realm the soldiers inhabited via their helmet night vision. Torran wondered what this building had been like before the gate failure. It’d probably been filled with people just like him that were happy to exist in a safe haven far from the ravaged world.

Then it had all fallen apart.

Torran hoped that the people within The Bastion would never suffer such a dreadful event again.

As the other two parties moved on, Torran pointed to his group’s destination. Two of the fortis plebis, the lower ranking members of the squad, Anya Helmich and Sydney Marshal, moved into position to watch the hallway. Both were new to the SWD, but competent. They’d enlisted when the gate closure by the special ops team had been reported on the news. Like many of The Bastion’s young people, they wanted to be a part of the restoration of their city and the valley. Torran had enlisted in the Constabulary and later with the SWD for the exact same reasons. Though he was terrified with each step he took further into the darkened building, he was also proud and thrilled to be part of the final destruction of the Inferi Scourge in the valley.

Torran preceded Goodwin and Jonas over the threshold into the next area. It was a conference room flanked with windows along one wall. The frosted glass revealed the darkness of the night. Since the windows were intact, the room had not been exposed the elements, but it had obviously been used recently and in a most gruesome way.

“What the fuck?” Jonas exclaimed.

Flashes of memory from the failed battle outside the wall assaulted Torran’s mind and his stomach clenched into a painful ball of dread, but he shoved those thoughts aside and concentrated on the horrific scene before him. He’d witnessed terrible things the day of the battle outside the wall, but this was far worse.

There were human skeletal remains on the table with only bits of stringy meat hanging from the bones. A Constabulary uniform was tossed into a corner along with a shattered helmet.

Goodwin inched over to the discarded garment and squatted to check the nametag. “Cormier,” she said, her voice hushed with reverence.

“How does this make sense? What did the Abscrags do?” Jonas asked creeping toward the grisly scene.

“Ate her.” His words were gruff with grief.

Torran knew exactly who Cormier was and her apparent fate was far too gruesome to accept. She’d been a brave, highly decorated pilot who’d sacrificed her fuel-drained tiltrotor during the failed push against the Inferi Scourge in order to save countless soldiers boarding another aircraft. She’d barely escaped with her life that day. For her to die at the hands and teeth of the Scrags was a cruel fate. She must have been part of the special ops clearing the valley.

“They don’t eat us,” Goodwin said tersely. “That’s an old myth.”

“Abscrags do,” Torran answered. “There were rumors, but this is evidence.” He pointed to a femur that had visible gnaw marks on it. “They’re eating us now.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Jonas uttered in disbelief.

Torran wondered what the higher ups at the SWD would have to say about the images being collected by their helmets. When he’d confronted them about the cannibal rumors he’d heard after the failed final push, they’d denied it.

Goodwin covered the body on the table with a plastic body bag she tugged out of her pack. “This can’t be real.”

“It is. Now let’s finish this,” Torran said, and started toward the doorway.

Helmich and Marshal were gone.

“Helmich and Marshal report,” he said, stopping short of the exit out of the room.

There was silence. The readout on his helmet flashed that they were alive, but why weren’t they answering? Their location indicated they were right outside the door.

“What the hell?” Jonas breathed.

“Sir?” Goodwin said in a fearful voice, falling in beside Torran.

Torran switched frequencies. “Englert and Argento, report in.” These were the names of the two leaders of the smaller groups he’d sent off.

Again, no answer.

But the readout continued to register them as alive.

“Sir, why aren’t they answering?” Jonas asked, his voice raspy.

Beside Torran, Goodwin switched to full auto on her weapon. Torran and Jonas followed suit.

A second later, all the readouts altered to read KIA on all his missing people.

Chapter 3

It had been a long time since Lindsey had worn Constabulary body armor. After the failed final push against the Inferi Scourge and her injury, she’d been trapped at a communications console. It felt strangely good to be back in the old, bulky suit. Securing her helmet, she watched the display light up on the facemask.

“Testing comm,” she said.

“I hear you,” Petra’s voice answered.

“Squad sound off,” Lindsey ordered, glancing toward the three Constabulary soldiers suiting up with her in the prep room.

“Hobbes reporting, Vanguard Rooney,” the big man with the blond hair and ice blue eyes said.

“Giacomi reporting, Vanguard Rooney,” came the husky voice of the woman with the black eyes, raven hair, and burn scars along the side of her face and neck.

“Franklin reporting, Vanguard Rooney,” was the call out from the tall, powerfully built black woman with gold-flecked brown eyes and a shaved head.

Lindsey cut the comm long enough to say, “Bitches.”

The three laughed.

“You’re the one who went and got herself promoted,” Hobbes teased, then winked.

“Always an overachiever,” Franklin agreed.

Giacomi blew Lindsey a kiss.

“I’m your commanding officer now, so I’d like to see a little respect,” she said, but knew she would have to endure a certain amount of ribbing.

All three saluted.

She wasn’t certain if the action was mocking or not.

Though she wasn’t a part of their squad anymore, Lindsey knew the trio well enough to occasionally have drinks with them. They were all survivors of the failed push against the Inferi Scourge. They were war hero veterans, but their wounds hadn’t sidelined them like Lindsey’s had. Giacomi’s scars weren’t even from battle, but from a pot of boiling water she’d pulled off the stove when she’d been an inquisitive toddler.

Reopening the comm, Lindsey said, “Command, we’re on our way to the subway station.”

“We’re standing by to open them,” Petra replied.

Lindsey picked up her weapon, and then moved to pull out a flamethrower from the weapons locker. She already had the biohazard collapsible container in her backpack to bring back Denman’s remains.

Hobbes finished loading his bulky firearm and looked up. “Any chance of action down there?”

“Probably not,” Lindsey answered.

“Why do the squids get all the fun?” Giacomi asked while grabbing a flamethrower and hooking the strap to her armor.

At some point in time, the Constabulary had started calling the SWD security forces the squids. Lindsey supposed it was because Admiral Kirkpatrick, the man in charge of the SWD, had belonged to one of the old world navies. It had stuck through the years. Meanwhile, the Constabulary soldiers were called grunts.

Lindsey realized she couldn’t answer. The three soldiers in front of her had no idea of the internal struggle for power that was going on within The Bastion. “That’s just how the cards played out,” she said at last.

“So no chance in hell we’ll get to shoot something,” Franklin groused.

The thought of the Scrags or another smarter variation getting into the subway tunnels was something Lindsey didn’t even want to consider. “Probably not. I know you’re a bloodthirsty lot, but we’re basically just a clean-up crew.”

“It fuckin’ sucks that the squids get to take care of the Scrags and not us,” Hobbes muttered. “It was our people we lost out there.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Franklin said, bobbing her head so the helmet caught the overhead light and the faceplate gleamed, obscuring her face.

For a second, Lindsey saw Maria, not Franklin, and her heart hurt. Dwayne would take care of her friend, one way or another.

“Let’s move out.”

It was embarrassing to have to use her cane while in her battle armor, but at least no one said anything as they departed the prep room and headed up the corridor to the elevator that would carry them down into the bowels of the Constabulary headquarters.

A private message popped up in the corner of Lindsey’s screen from Petra. She read it quickly:

There may be a problem. The SWD squad at the mining facility is taking heavy casualties.

Lindsey entered the elevator and pressed the screen for the lowest level. She also toggled the comm over to Petra. “Talk to me.”

“The squad is pinned down and it sounds like they’re in dire straits. The SWD is insisting they hold their position.”

“Dwayne could be in that area.”

“If he tries to return with Maria...”

“He won’t. I don’t think. We’ll...maybe...” Lindsey wished she could rub her suddenly pounding temples. “Keep me posted.”

The eyes of the three soldiers around her were watching her hold her private conversation. The worry in their faces probably reflected hers. She switched the comm over.

“So...do we get to shoot stuff?” Hobbes asked hopefully.

* * *

“Sir!” Goodwin breathed.

“I see the readout.” It was impossible to conceive that the others were gone. Opening the comm to the soldiers in the building, Torran said briskly, “Everyone report. Respond now!”

Strange guttural noises were his only answer.

Torran hit his wristlet, again switching the comm to contact Rosario’s group. “Smyth, report.”

As the other half of the squad was added to his helmet visual, he sucked in a deep breath. They were also reported as Killed In Action. Stunned, he swallowed the hard lump forming in his throat. What was going on?

“Sir?” Jonas queried his voice unsteady.

“Watch that door! Smyth, if you can hear me, respond now!”

Through the static came the sound of someone choking.

The line hissed and buzzed for a long second, then a woman’s voice that was not Rosario’s said, “Don’t worry. She’ll come for you.”

A wave of horror washed over Torran and plunged him into the blackest depths of despair. They were all dead. Just like before outside the wall when the expanding perimeter fence had failed and the Inferi Scourge had swarmed the soldiers.

“Sir?”

The sound of Goodwin’s voice tugged Torran’s attention back to the present. Staring at the empty doorway shimmering in an ominous pale gray in the night vision filter, Torran gathered his thoughts, and then switched the comm again. “Base, I have lost all communication with my squad and they’re being reported as KIA. We are under attack from the abnormal Inferi Scourge. We need immediate backup to this location.”

The popping and static echoing through his helmet sent a surge of adrenaline through his system. For several seconds, he feared there wasn’t going to be a response, but then a voice said, “Master Seeker, you’re to hold position until we can send a tiltrotor with reinforcements. All units are all presently engaged.”

“We can’t hold this position,” Torran answered curtly. If the rest of the squad was dead, then he had to save Goodwin and Jonas as well as himself. He’d been a sole survivor of a squad before and the burden of that label still weighed on his soul.

“You have your orders to secure and hold that area,” came the reply.

“We’re dealing with a pocket of the Abscrags—”

“You have your—”

There were footsteps in the hallway.

“—and we are about to be overrun!”

Jonas and Goodwin lifted their weapons simultaneously.

“Come out. Join us,” a deep voice called from somewhere in the corridor.

The woman at the SWD command center was still droning on about orders. Torran killed the comm link. He needed to concentrate on the situation at hand. First, he had to find a way out of the building and that wasn’t going to be easy with the Abscrags in the hallway.

Somewhere nearby, a Scrag howled.

Signaling for the two squad members to cover him, Torran crept toward the door. The night vision’s inverted perspective illuminated the hallway with an eerie gray glow.

A shadow flickered across the threshold.

Darting forward, he kicked the door shut and hit the lock. Instantly, gunfire started on the other side. The Abscrags now had SWD weaponry. It wouldn’t hold very long against the barrage.

Whipping about, Torran pushed past the frightened soldiers and fired at the windows. The bullets punched into the treated glass, forming fist-sized indentations, but the window didn’t shatter. “Concentrate your fire!”

Jonas and Goodwin immediately obeyed.

The hot metal chipped away at the glass as the guns roared. Behind the three soldiers, the door buckled. It would give way soon.

“We’re going to get out of the building and head toward the subway entrance one kilometer north. Keep moving and do not slow down,” Torran said over the noise.

“The rest of the squad?” Goodwin’s gun clicked empty and she swiftly reloaded.

“Gone. You see the readout.”

“But it can’t be true!” Jonas exclaimed. “Abscrags aren’t supposed to be that smart!”

“Maybe we’re not dealing with Abscrags but something else,” Goodwin suggested.

Torran hated that her comment sounded wholly plausible.

Finally, a large enough hole formed in the glass to allow them to crawl out. Rushing forward, Torran bashed at a few loose chunks with the butt of his weapon. Their armor would protect them from the sharp edges. Behind them, the door was starting to give way in the frame. Soon, the Abscrags would be on them, yet Torran was more worried about what was waiting outside the building. The scan of the area still wasn’t showing movement, but Torran no longer felt he could rely on the readings. They’d have to trust their instincts and training to survive.

“I’ll go first. Goodwin, you follow. Jonas, you bring up the rear.” If something terrible waited outside, he’d deal with it and clear the way for the remaining squad members.

It was a bit difficult squeezing through the hole with his helmet on, but Torran didn’t dare take it off. Torran held his weapon before him with one hand while using the other to push through the narrow, ragged tunnel. Keeping an eye on his surroundings, Torran wormed his way through the opening. The windows faced a concrete pad that was cracked and sprouting weeds. The drop to the ground wasn’t too high, so when he finally pulled his torso through the glass far enough to allow gravity to take control, he fell, tucked, rolled, and shot back onto his feet.

The area appeared clear, but the sight further along the road gave him pause. Revealed through the night vision, Torran saw many bodies sprawled before the heavy doors to the mine. Toggling through his filters, he swallowed hard. The bodies were warm, which meant they were his squad and they were most likely dead. Raising his head, he saw Goodwin squeezing through the hole in the thick glass.

“Hurry,” he said, but knew he didn’t need to urge the other two soldiers.

Scanning the area, he gripped his weapon ever tighter. The comfort he sought from it didn’t manifest as he watched the corpses of his squad in the distance start to jerk and thrash about.

Goodwin crashed to the ground beside him, but rapidly recovered and stood up. Jonas started through the hole, his ragged breathing sifting through the helmet speakers. Thrusting one hand through the opening, he said, “They’re almost through! Help me!”

“Cover us,” Torran told Goodwin.

Eyes wide with fright, she briskly nodded.

Torran swung his weapon onto his back and raised his hands toward Jonas. He could barely reach the other man and his fingertips scrabbled at the hard, black armor as Torran struggled to get a good grip. Jonas managed to get his other arm through the glass, his firearm dangling from the strap attached to his uniform. Torran clutched Jonas’s hand and strove to pull the man through the opening.

The screech of the Inferi Scourge seeped through the feed.

Behind the facemask of the helmet, Jonas’ expression was one of stark fear, and Torran’s throat constricted with alarm.

“They’re in the room,” Jonas gasped.

“Goodwin!”

Promptly, she was at Torran’s side, her fingers wrapped around Jonas’s wrist. Together, they attempted to drag his long body through a ragged gap in the glass. Jonas wiggled about as he tried to find enough traction to push free. Desperation and fear clawed at Torran’s mind, but he gritted his teeth and pulled harder. He wasn’t about to lose another member of his squad. Especially not one as young and full of potential like Jonas.