The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion Book 2) (7 page)

Attempting to drag his weapon out from under Hobbes, Torran shouted, “Alkan!”

The woman whipped her head toward him in surprise.

“You’re not going in,” Torran shouted.

Alkan shot at him just as he expected.

And the vanguard shot Alkan just like he hoped.

As the Abscrag crumpled to the ground, Torran flinched as the evil black disc unleashed its current into his armor, causing his limbs to spasm. A second later, it was knocked into the wall with the butt of Rooney’s weapon.

“How are you?” Rooney asked, leaning over him her hazel eyes wide. “You still with me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” His head felt heavy and he was fairly convinced his legs and arms had fallen off. A second later, his limbs reconnected to his brain and he rubbed them in an effort to get rid of the disquieting fizzing in his muscles. “Just got a nip of it.”

The doors shut with a boom.

“We’ve got the two remaining Abscrags from your squad heading back here. I don’t know if they’re bringing company. I need you. The others are...” Rooney glanced toward her downed squad. “It’s you and me.”

Climbing unsteadily to his feet, Torran nodded and his brain sloshed around in his skull. It was definitely not the best feeling. He didn’t even realize he was slanting to one side until Rooney put her hand on his arm and pushed him upright.

“MacDonald, I need you,” she said sternly. “Focus.”

“I’m good. I’m good.” Torran cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes. The disc must not have fully discharged, since he was still on his feet, but it had him off center. Lifting his weapon, he concentrated on his surroundings.

Rooney grabbed the rail with one hand and pulled herself up the steps. It took Torran a second to realize she was injured. He swiftly tucked an arm about her waist to help her.

“Don’t. Keep alert. I’ll handle myself.” She gently pushed him away, and then pointed up. “They’re coming around. They regrouped. Without them-–” her eyes shifted toward the dead pair at the base of the stairs “—I don’t think they’ll know what to do.”

The screech of Scrags sounded nearby. It was only a few voices though, and there wasn’t a responding cry from others in the area. The special ops team had done their job, and well. The Scrag population was nearly wiped out.

“Not too many left, Vanguard.”

Rooney smiled slightly. “No. Not too many. The special ops did their job...”

“I was just thinking that, too.” Torran found himself matching her labored stride up the stairs. It was hard not to try to help her, but he could see she wouldn’t accept it.

In the distance came the sound of explosions.

“They’re wrapping it up with a big fiery bow,” Rooney decided.

“A big booming bow,” Torran agreed, “on the big nice present of no more Scrags.”

“Let’s finish our part,” Rooney said. “You and me. No more Abscrags.”

They were almost to the top of the stairs. Looking up, Torran forced his leaden feet to move. Maybe it was just the electroshock disc, exhaustion, or the hangover from his earlier adrenaline rush, but he just wanted to sit on the stairs and doze for a few minutes.

“And here they are,” Rooney whispered.

Bullets tore through the night, punching into the cement over their heads. Immediately, Rooney and Torran crouched, weapons raised.

“They weren’t doing that before.” The vanguard almost sounded offended.

“They don’t have someone to give them orders anymore. They may be falling back to old bad habits I taught them. Like shoot at the enemy.”

“Hungry,” a voice he recognized shrieked.

“Fuck,” Torran cursed.

It was Goodwin.

“Why are they saying that?” Rooney demanded.

“They’re cannibals,” Torran replied.

“Scrags bite to
infect
.”

“These do more than that.”

“Fuck! Could it get any more complicated?”

“Probably, but don’t tempt fate, Vanguard.”

“You know them, MacDonald. Talk to them,” Rooney insisted.

Not sure what she expected to happen, Torran obeyed. “Goodwin, it’s me. Master Seeker MacDonald.”

“Hungry!”

Two voices.

Jonas was with Goodwin.

“Jonas, Goodwin, glad to see you’re okay.” Wincing at his words, he lifted his weapon higher. The spot at the top of the stairs was ominous. They could appear at any second and either he’d kill his former companions or be killed.

“Hungry. So hungry.” Goodwin’s voice again.

“Yeah? Me, too. I’d love a nice plate of potato salad.”

Rooney edged up the stairs, grimacing in pain.

“Hungry!” It wasn’t quite a word. More of a screech.

Torran carefully climbed. Sweeping his gaze over the opening above his head, he feared them coming over the wall. Rooney touched his knee, and then pointed left. Her large, heavily fringed hazel eyes seemed particularly vivid in the gleam from her helmet readout. If she was scared, she wasn’t showing it. The wall that flanked the stairs was a mere three feet tall at the end of the opening. If he stood, his six-foot-two height would allow him to easily spot and fire at the remaining Abscrags. Of course, it would also put him in their sights.

Wincing, Rooney moved past him toward the opening. She’d fire from low and around the base of the wall.

“You know that place where we’d go get that great veggie sausage and potato salad? I hear they’re having a special tomorrow on fried okra.” Did his former squad members even understand what he was saying? They’d been able to take orders from the smarter Abscrags, but was it because they were the same breed?

Rooney reached her position and signaled for him to stop. He nodded and prepared to take the lives of yet more of his squad.

A single gunshot startled both of them. Rooney’s eyes widened slightly.

“Hungry,” Goodwin screamed. “Hungry!”

Rooney lifted her fingers and counted down.

As soon as she reached zero, Torran shot upward and aimed at where the voice of his former comrade had come from. His finger stilled on the trigger. The light from his weapon illuminated Goodwin. Her helmet was gone and her short red hair clung to her round cheeks. The young woman leaned over Jonas, tearing at his neck with her fingers. Ripping flesh from his body, she stuffed it into her mouth, rocking back and forth in anguish.

“What the fuck?” Lindsey was clearly disturbed, but she hadn’t seen Cormier’s body.

Torran darted around Lindsey and onto the old sidewalk. Goodwin continued to weep and feast on her bloody meal. Her weapon dangled at her side.

“You want me to do this, don’t you?” Torran called, aiming at her.

Goodwin didn’t answer, but stuffed more strips of meat into her crimson mouth. She hadn’t wanted to be a Scrag. She’d vowed to never let them get her. Yet, here she was: not only dead and transformed, but worse than an ordinary Scrag. Bright red eyes turned toward him, the blood smeared across her face bright in the light cast by his weapon.

Torran heard Rooney limping to his side. He kept his weapon trained on Goodwin, but struggled to pull the trigger.

“It’s the kind thing to do,” Rooney said.

Pressing his lips together, Torran aimed for the center of Rooney’s still child-like face. She was so young. Only eighteen.

“There’s no cure, MacDonald, and this is worse... far worse than just being a Scrag.”

Again, he and Rooney were of the same mind. It gave him some comfort that she understood how hard it was for him to pull the trigger.

“Sorry, Goodwin,” he said sorrowfully.

He pulled the trigger.

Goodwin’s body fell with a thump.

Rooney lightly touched his shoulder, then shambled past him. She was obviously in great discomfort, but she moved with purpose, her weapon at the ready.

Torran followed.

Reaching the bodies, Rooney went very still. “Very different from regular Scrags. Their eyes...”

“Yeah.”

Rooney slightly bobbed her helmet. He could see her lips moving and knew she was talking to the Constabulary. She finished, then turned her attention back to him. “You’ll have to destroy the bodies.”

“Okay, but how?”

“We have flamethrowers. We’re fixing the inventory so one of them will become a lost weapon of the final push. If you’re asked, say you got the weapon off of one of the Abscrags. Understand?”

Torran stared into her eyes and saw only steely determination. He appreciated that in the face of such terrible circumstances. It kept him from sinking into the mire of his own thoughts. “Yes, I do.”

“Your squad should be destroyed, too, but...” Rooney sighed. “You probably should keep close to the subway station and not try to track down all the bodies.”

“Destroy them, too? Why? Oh, you’re concerned about...” He lifted an eyebrow. “Ah. Samples.”

Rooney’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you say that?”

“Burning specific bodies. Wanting my squad destroyed, too. Seems like you don’t want the SWD getting a hold of tissue samples. Of the variations of the virus.”

Giving him a scrutinizing sidelong look, before looking toward the high walls of The Bastion, Rooney exhaled.

The mountain range encircling the vast valley made even The Bastion seem small, yet it was home. The only home they had.

“I won’t say more.” Torran bent down and removed the weapons from both bodies.

“Do you think she understood you were going to kill her?” Rooney was staring at the body of Goodwin.

“Yeah,” Torran replied. “I think she did.”

“But she wasn’t herself anymore.”

“That’s the hell of it. I think a piece of her was still in there.”

A dark shape emerged from the subway entrance. It was Hobbes.

“Linds, we good?”

“That’s Vanguard Rooney to you, and yes, we’re good. Keep watch. We got bodies to deal with.”

“Linds...” Torran glanced down at Rooney. “Lindsey?”

“That’s Vanguard Rooney to you, too.” She hesitated, then gave him an unexpected smile. “But, yeah, it’s Lindsey, Master Seeker MacDonald.”

“Torran MacDonald.”

“Good to meet you, Torran.” She held out her hand to him.

Torran shook it, then lifted his eyes. “It’s nearly over.”

“The battle?”

“The night.”

Together, they gazed toward the thin line of pale blue sky spreading beyond the high mountain tops.

“Then let’s finish and go home, Torran.”

Chapter 7

Lindsey didn’t like leaving Torran behind. The man had suffered incredible losses and had spent a good portion of his night attempting to survive. Watching him speak with SWD command on his wristlet, she leaned against the walls lining the stairwell. The pain radiating up and down her leg was almost unbearable. Torran stood at the top of the stairs, Hobbes and Giacomi keeping watch for stray Scrags. Franklin sat on the wall watching the tiny specs in the air circling in the far distance. The tiltrotors were starting to pick up the ground troops. It was almost time for Lindsey and her squad to go home.

Torran finished his conversation, killed the comm line, and rushed down the stairs to where she stood trying to look like she wasn’t in excruciating pain.

“They were surprised to hear from me, but they’ve got a tiltrotor on its way.”

“Fantastic.” Lindsey gave him a wry smile. “We’re all going home.”

Glancing significantly at the smoke rising from the nearby pyre, Torran said, “Well, some of us.”

“I’m sorry about your squad,” Lindsey said truthfully. “I’ve lost people, too. It’s never easy.”

“No, it’s not. I thought I’d never go through this again, but...” Torran ran a hand over his sweaty, dirty brown hair.

“Again?”

“The final push. The failed one. A year and a half ago.”

“You were there?”

“My squad was wiped out. I was the sole survivor.”

“Same with me. Well, not sole survivor. Only me and my best friend Maria made it out. The rest of our squad died. We lost a lot of good people that day.”

Torran nodded somberly. “Yeah, we did.”

“Time for us to go. Got your story straight?” Lindsey observed the man’s internal struggle. He didn’t like lying, but she could see him coming to terms with the fact that he had to do just that.

“Yeah. I do. I still don’t understand why the Constabulary wasn’t part of this whole operation to begin with.”

“You will,” Lindsey promised him. The worm would be going out in a matter of minutes. Soon the entire city would know all about Admiral Kirkpatrick and the SWD’s attempt to take over the government.

“The body in the subway...I wasn’t going to ask about it, but...” Torran stared at her pensively. “He was one of them, wasn’t he? An Abscrag?”

“Something like that.”

“And he got into the city and someone shot him?”

Lindsey pressed her lips together, her mind racing. He would know soon about the Inferi Boon, but she didn’t want to incriminate herself any more than she had already. “There was a breach. It was dealt with. We’re the cleanup crew.”

“And you ended up saving me,” Torran said.

“We don’t leave people behind.” Lindsey signaled to Giacomi and Hobbes and switched the comm in her helmet. “Petra, open the doors.”

“There is so much more going on than I know about, isn’t there?”

Lindsey laughed. “Well, yeah. Isn’t there always? It wouldn’t be The Bastion if not for the intrigue.”

As the doors slid open, much easier now that they’d had a bit of use, Lindsey finally pushed off from the wall. It was difficult standing on her leg and she wobbled. Torran started to reach out to steady her, but Hobbes caught her about the waist and lifted her off the ground.

“Got you, Vanguard,” he said. “I’ll get you to your cane.”

“Cane?” Torran looked at Lindsey sharply.

“The final push,” she answered, shrugging.

“I suggest you get on the roof,” Franklin said to Torran as she walked past him. “Just in case.”

“Thank you. All of you.” Torran’s lean face was sorrowful, but also sincere.

“See you around, Master Seeker MacDonald.”

“I look forward to it, Vanguard Rooney.”

Hobbes carried her over the threshold and Lindsey glanced back as the door started to close. Torran was already scaling the wall, heading for the roof. She hated that she couldn’t bring him back into The Bastion, but she was also certain he’d be safe until the tiltrotor arrived.

“He was kinda cute,” Giacomi decided as they trudged toward the maintenance cart.

“For a skinny guy,” Franklin agreed.

“He wasn’t that skinny,” Giacomi protested.

“I could bench press him.” Franklin shook her head. “Besides, aren’t you still seeing that one girl?”

“We’re not exclusive. She’s got a guy on the side.”

“I volunteer for being a guy on the side,” Hobbes said with a grin, helping Lindsey down the steps.

“Uh huh,” Franklin gave him a dark look. “Don’t you have enough women?”

Lindsey listened to the friendly banter, remembering all the times she and Maria gave Ryan hell. She missed both of them so much it was a physical ache in her chest. Knowing Maria and Dwayne were out there somewhere together was a small consolation. At least they had a chance at a life beyond the walls of The Bastion.

Settled into the cart and clutching the cane Hobbes had retrieved, Lindsey turned her attention to her wristlet. It was only a matter of minutes now. Maybe seconds.

After the four Constabulary soldiers settled into the cart, it zoomed down the track toward the bowels of the city.

A minute later all four wristlets chimed.

It was time to change the world.

* * *

Torran crouched on the roof of the entrance of the subway station. Weapon at the ready, he surveyed the vast land around him spotted with the bodies of the dead and bins of salvage. The Bastion was behind him, majestic and dour in the early morning light.

In his hand, he held the dog tags of Special Sergeant Amber Alkan and Special Constable Gareth Reese, along with those of Goodwin and Jonas. He had plucked the tags from the smoldering remains and intended to turn them over to his superiors during his debriefing. The mysterious and highly intelligent Abscrags had destroyed his squad and nearly killed him. If not for Vanguard Rooney and her squad, he’d be an Abscrag.

It was a very sobering truth.

Cocking his head, he watched the tiltrotors approaching from the south. There were still fires on the far side of the valley from where the last Scrag herds had been blasted with fire bombs. There was aircraft moving over the fires, long curtains of water flowing out behind them. It’d been years since he’d seen emergency fire control vehicles of any type.

The job wasn’t done yet though. There were large portions of the valley where firebombs were not allowed due to coal deposits and the underground fuel refinery. Would he be sent out again, too? Given a new squad of fresh eager recruits? Or would he be found guilty of not making wise choices for his squad and be relieved of duty?

There weren’t signs of Scrags near him, but along the foothills to the north the wooded areas could easily be hiding some. It wasn’t the Scrags he was worried about anymore, but the Abscrags. What if Alkan and Reese had made more?

His wristlet chimed, surprising him. Glancing down, he saw multiple files rapidly downloading and unpacking.

A second later, a computerized voice said, “Details on the Coup d’état organized by Admiral Kirkpatrick have now been downloaded to your device.”

“What the hell?”

Torran touched the screen and immediately a simple, but detailed menu popped up. All sorts of files had been sent not only to him, but appeared to be copied to every citizen of The Bastion. It only took him a few minutes after reading two files for him to finally understand why the Constabulary had not been involved in the clearing of the valley. Admiral Kirkpatrick, the leader of the SWD, had made a grandiose play for power and someone had uncovered it.

A message dinged into his wristlet. It was from Vanguard Rooney. He quickly opened it and her face appeared.

“You knew,” Torran said.

“Your tiltrotor is being redirected to the Constabulary.” Lindsey hesitated. “I’m sorry, Torran, but all SWD officers are under suspicion and are going to be debriefed by the Constabulary. If you like, I’ll be the one to escort you.”

“No. Don’t do that. Keep your distance,” Torran answered. “I’m not a part of this treason. I’ll be fine.”

“Very well,” she said in a gentle tone. “Good luck.”

The sound of the approaching tiltrotor nearly drowned out her voice.

“I’ll see you around,” Torran said, hoping that it was true.

Vanguard Rooney was gone.

Standing slowly, Torran waved to the approaching tiltrotor pilots.

In one night, so much had changed. The valley had been reclaimed and there was hope for the future once again.

Viewing the dog tags still clutched in one hand, Torran wondered if he’d ever really know the full truth.

* * *

“Vanguard Rooney, excellent job,” Commandant Pierce said when Lindsey entered the Constabulary Command Center.

Barely able to walk even with the help of her cane, Lindsey saluted. “Thank you, sir.”

Commandant Pierce returned her gaze to the display of monitors in front of her. “President Cabot is safely in his office. Constabulary forces escorted him there with the media in tow. Admiral Kirkpatrick is sequestered within the SWD Facility and is denying the details transmitted by the worm. He’s also refusing to give himself up to the Judiciary Authority.”

Scanning the Command Center for Vaja, Lindsey couldn’t help but beam a bit. It was her sleuthing and her worm that had protected the rightfully elected government, even if President Cabot was a jerk. Not spotting her boyfriend among the uniforms, she focused instead on the surveillance feed coming in from around the capitol building.

“Commandant, we’re in control, aren’t we?”

“To some degree. SWD forces are still returning from their mission and there are squads occupying The Bastion City Command Center. It’s touchy, but we’re gaining the upper hand through the media coverage. The Inferi Boon are receiving a lot more sympathy and coverage than we anticipated.”

That allowed Lindsey to relax with some measure of relief. She wanted people to look at the list of Inferi Boon names and feel sorrow. She’d never see Maria again in this life and it cut her to the core. The Inferi Boon had given their lives to save The Bastion and she wanted the population to feel the weight of that loss.

“I’m sure that makes you happy,” Commandant Pierce said, glancing at Lindsey again.

“Do you think they would’ve felt the same way if Admiral Kirkpatrick had told the citizens that the Inferi Boon willingly gave up their lives to save us all?”

“They would’ve felt pride in the Inferi Boon, Vanguard.”

“But what if Kirkpatrick said that they had to be killed to stop a possible infection? Do you think the population would have agreed with him about killing our own people?” Lindsey hated that she believed that the citizens of The Bastion wouldn’t have felt grief.

“I guess we’ll never know, will we?” Commandant Pierce gestured toward the myriad of screens. “The social networks are filled with irate citizens protesting the abuse of power by the SWD. That’s exactly what we wanted. You’re a hero, Vanguard Rooney.”

“No one will ever know that.” Lindsey rested one hand on her waist and leaned on her cane. “And that’s how it should be. The real heroes are Maria and her squad. All those names up there. Omondi, Denman, Martinez, Mikado…”

“Agreed.” The tall woman with intense ebony eyes motioned to an empty chair near a console. “Sit down, Rooney, before you fall over.”

Begrudgingly, Lindsey obeyed.

Commandant Pierce sat in her own chair and bent toward Lindsey. “For the next few days, there will be a continuous explosion of indignation and denials. President Cabot knows that the Constabulary just saved his ass. He’s going to do everything he can to keep this in the forefront of the media and the city. But already the media wants to know where the leak came from. There will be a witch hunt.”

“Is that why Vaja isn’t here?”

Commandant Pierce lifted an eyebrow. “He left once the worm went out. He doesn’t have the stomach for this, does he?”

Lindsey wasn’t sure she did either, but there was no way in hell she wasn’t going to fight for her city.