Wasteland Rules: Die Fighting (The World After Book 4) (12 page)

   Drawing his swords Deimos slowly approached the
lone gunman. The man was obviously terrified, and he should be, but he stood
his ground. Deimos smiled wickedly at the man’s fear. It was so intense he
could almost smell it. The man fired a single shot into Deimos, but the armor
stopped the heavy slug. The man’s shoulders drooped slightly, he had hoped that
might stop the oncoming monster; but had known in his heart that it wouldn’t. Deimos
charged him. The man unloaded the rest of the clip into the onrushing beast,
but Deimos was barely slowed.

   He impaled the man in the chest with a katana, the
sword punching through the armor with ease, and lifted him up into the air. The
shotgun dropped to the floor from nerveless fingers. The man hung there
defenselessly, feebly grasping at the blade. Blood ran down and pooled at their
feet as the man slowly faded.

   “What are you?” The man gasped weakly.

   “I am terror, look upon me and be afraid.” Deimos
growled dramatically.

   Then he severed the man’s head with a single
backhanded stroke of his other sword. He dropped the body and forced it free of
the sword with his foot. The surviving Makai cheered enthusiastically at their
leader’s victory. The man had died easily, but he had bought Storm and friends
the time to escape. Deimos knew the complex was a maze and he was unlikely to
catch them. He did have the plans, but there were likely many secret passages
he was unaware of.

   That was okay. He had defeated Storm and now had
his weapons as trophies. They had escaped, but he knew where they were going.
He would meet them there, if they got there at all.

   “Tear this place apart and then level it.” He
ordered.

   His Makai and some Faceless that had joined them
rushed into the complex. They would gather up any intelligence available. Steal
any technology they could find. And then set explosives to bring the complex
down. Storm may have gotten away, but Deimos had removed the one major threat
remaining to the Discordian Society. The Faceless Man would be pleased.

CIA Base under Mount Rushmore

September 14, 2029

   Sterling and Rora each had one of Derek’s arms over
their shoulders and they were moving as fast as they could through the
byzantine tangle of corridors in the CIA headquarters. To their surprise he had
been handily defeated by this “Deimos”. Overton and his elite guard had held
the monster and his troops off long enough for them to rescue Derek, but all of
the CIA agents had been slaughtered. The monster had gone into a frenzy and
slaughtered them using a machine gun as a club. Sterling didn’t see how anyone
could hope to stand against that thing.

   He knew Derek would heal from the injuries given
time, but that was in limited supply. They needed to get to Wichita and recover
the computer core, but Deimos and his army were sure to try to stop them. Obviously
the Faceless were more aware of the situation than he had thought, and they
were trying to prevent the recovery of the core. That only reinforced to Sterling
that it held secrets they didn’t want exposed.

    That the Discordians were aware of the CIA bases
location and bold enough to attack it spoke volumes about their capabilities.
He had long been trying to convince Overton they were a major threat, but the
man’s arrogance had blinded him to the possibility. The director had always
insisted that the Discordians and the Faceless Man were a fringe movement
incapable of a major action. And until now that had seemed true. No real
evidence of any activity on their part had ever been discovered aside from a
few infiltrators.

   But obviously they had gotten someone on the inside
at the CIA. Not that hard of a task since he himself was an infiltrator. Sterling
Kroner wasn’t his real name; and while he did work for the CIA, he had other
masters he reported to also. The CIA had recruited him after Doors had forced
him out of the pre-Collapse Collective. He didn’t want another genius
programmer to threaten his dominance of the group and alter his agenda so he
had forced Sterling out and blackballed him.

   The CIA had wanted to know what the Collective was
up to and if they could co-opt some of the ideas and projects. They had paid
him well and played on his ego and desire to get payback on Doors. He had been
blind to the possible suffering that both the Collective’s projects and the
CIA’s projects could inflict on people. Once he had realized that he was too
deep in with the CIA to get out.

   Just prior to the Collapse he had been approached
by an ultra-secret society. They had offered him a different vision of how the
nation and the world could look. One that was freer and more open, with better
lives for its citizens. It was utopian to an extent, but they had been very
persuasive. So he had bought in and joined them. They had kept him within the
CIA and he did everything the CIA asked; but he reported it in to the society,
and he did other tasks for them on the side. Everything had led up to this
moment and now it was time to begin the rebirth of the nation. But he needed
Derek alive to make that happen.

    “Is there another way out of here?” Rora suddenly
asked in a panic.

   “Of course. We are the CIA after all.” Sterling
answered her calmly. “Just bear with me.”

   “Those things aren’t going to be too far behind
us.” She said worriedly.

   “Not to worry.” Sterling said as he waved his
forearm over a spot on the wall.

   A previously undetectable door slid open in the
wall. Behind it a narrow passageway led into darkness. As they entered the
track lighting in the ceiling popped on in response to Sterling’s presence.
They dragged Derek inside and then the wall slid shut behind them leaving no
trace of the door.

   “If they knew about the base, won’t they know about
these passages?” Rora asked with concern.

   “Maybe, but only two of have access. And Overton is
dead.” Sterling assured her.

   “What if they cut off his arm? Won’t the chip still
work?” Rora pushed.

   “Ah…That might be true.” Sterling agreed nervously.
“But how messed up is it that you thought of that?”

   “It’s been a crazy few months.” Rora said nodding.
“You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen and done. It changes you.”

   “I’m sure.” Sterling replied. “Let’s hope those
things aren’t as clever or as morbid as you are. But just in case, we’ll hurry
to the escape hatch before they can find the entrances to this system.”

   They dragged the barely conscious Storm with them
as they hustled through the secret passage. It gradually sloped upwards until
they came to a steel door set in the outer edge of the mountain. Sterling waved
his forearm over it and it hissed open. The overcast sky was still brighter
than the interior lights and they shielded their eyes for a moment until they
adjusted. When they could see clearly again they found themselves in a small
valley north of the mountain.

   “Over here.” Sterling said as he gestured to what
appeared to be a large rock.

   He pressed activated an app on the smartwatch he
was wearing and the “rock” suddenly retracted revealing a tan Chevy Suburban
SUV like the ones they had ridden in previously. He opened the door to the back
seat and they loaded Derek inside, laying him out on the back seat. He had
stopped bleeding at least, but he was still in bad shape. They needed to get
him medical attention or he would continue to be useless to them; and they
needed him in case of a fight, which was likely. Their plane ought to have
medical supplies so they should head there.

   Sterling climbed into the driver’s seat and Rora
stayed in the back with Derek. Derek mumbled incoherently as he faded in and
out of consciousness. Sterling started the SUV and threw it into drive. They
raced out of the valley in a spray of dirt and gravel. They didn’t have time
for stealth or subtlety, they needed to make it to the plane and get out of
here. They were halfway there when Derek’s phone, which housed the Voice, came
to life.

   “I am detecting activity around the plane’s
hangar.” He informed them through the speakerphone.

   Sterling groaned. “What kind of activity?”

   “The satellite is picking up flashes that look like
gunfire. I think we can assume the plane is under attack.” The Voice said in a
serious tone.

   “So we can’t get on the plane?” Rora asked
anxiously.

   “I would say not.” Sterling replied glumly.

   “So what is our other option?” Rora said with a
hint of panic.

   “This vehicle is equipped for a complete escape.” Sterling
told her reassuringly. “It has extra fuel, food, weapons, ammo, and medical
supplies. We can drive to Wichita.”

   “What about Derek?” Rora asked. “We need him combat
ready if we want to get the core.”

   “The medical supplies in the back will keep him
stable, but he needs blood and glucose to heal up completely.” Sterling mused
aloud. “We need to find a clinic or medical facility.”

   “Are there any out here?” Rora said in surprise.

   “We can probably get what we need in Mission, South
Dakota.” Sterling said after some thought. “But my guess would be that the Native
Americans aren’t going to want to part with it.”

   “Native Americans?”

   “Mission is in Lakota Territory.” Sterling
explained. “There used to be a lot of reservations in the area. During the
collapse and the Aftermath, the Native Americans had a much higher survival
rate because they still had some survival skills and knowledge and because they
were used to living in more inhospitable areas. Following the Aftermath, they
banded together and claimed a small area around Mission.”

   “Why wouldn’t they help us?” Rora probed.

   “Because the white man hasn’t exactly done them any
favors. Why should they do us any?” Sterling said with a grim chuckle. “With
the collapse of society everyone has been reduced down to doing what’s best for
their families and community. Helping us doesn’t help them.”

   “What about trading with them?”

   “We might be able to do it, but it’s probably going
to cost us everything we have.”

   “It’s worth it.” She insisted. “We need him.”

   “Agreed.” Sterling said with a sigh. “Let’s go to
Mission and see what we can get. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

   He didn’t really believe in luck though. It was
something you said, but in real life you made your own luck. He had nearly been
discovered as a double, sometimes triple agent, multiple times. But through
preparation and planning he had avoided it. As a Boy Scout he had always
adhered fanatically to the “Always be prepared.” slogan. It had served him
well. So had earning every merit badge and award you could get. You never knew
what knowledge or skill might come in handy.

   Early on people had recognized his genius, but he
hadn’t been ready to utilize it. He had skated through school without working
too hard and had been totally unprepared for college. Experiments with drugs
had shortened his academic career and he had been forced to re-evaluate his
life in rehab. When he had gotten out of rehab he had adopted a straight edge
lifestyle and focused on becoming a computer programmer.

   With his excellent memory and high IQ he was very
successful. His only weakness was an inability to think too far outside the
box. That had made Doors an excellent partner and collaborator when they first
met. Doors wasn’t particularly skilled at programming, but he had the kind of
genius that bordered on madness. He could see and code shortcuts and abstract
solutions even if he didn’t really understand what he was doing or be able to
explain it. The code just worked.

   Together they had founded the company that became
Macroware. Sterling had been too focused on the technical side to realize Doors
was slowly cutting him out. It had been a shock when the security guards had
confiscated all his devices and had escorted him out. A visit from the military
had followed shortly informing him he was out of the Collective and could go to
Gitmo if he ever spoke of it to anyone.

   That humiliation had only reinforced his need for
preparation and planning. And from that moment forth he had thought out any possible
scenario that could occur and planned for it. Of course you couldn’t plan for
anything, but if you had many contingencies you could apply the closest one. That
was why they had this well supplied vehicle. He hadn’t expected an armed
assault like the one the Dsicordians had launched, but he had planned on how to
make a quick escape if the base was compromised or he was discovered.

   He agreed with Rora that they needed Derek. He was
an integral part of the plan. Without him they had no muscle. They needed to
get him some medical attention. Derek wasn’t going to die, but he wasn’t going
to be of any use until they got him some help. With his physiology he would
improve rapidly once they got him some blood and glucose.

   The SUV barreled down the abandoned fire road Sterling
had scouted previously. It was almost invisible from the air and didn’t appear
on any maps. The heavy armor of the vehicle kept them from bouncing too much,
but it was still a rough ride. They exited the park after about fifteen minutes
and rolled out onto an old state highway. He would have preferred to take back
roads, but they didn’t have the time. They would have to risk being spotted in
the essence of time. They made great time on the abandoned roads on their way
to Mission and were almost there when a police car pulled out onto the road
behind them with lights flashing and sirens blaring.

   “Is it tribal police or something like that?” Rora
asked as she looked back at the pursuing car.

   “I doubt it.” Sterling muttered.

   The police car was one of the “modern” Ford Police
Interceptors with a powerful V6 engine. It easily caught up with the heavy SUV,
which was capable of a max speed around sixty five miles per hour. As the
police car got closer, Sterling could see that it was heavily modified. Armor
had been added to the front and sides of the vehicle and heavy metal screens
covered the windows. A Russian made Kord machine gun dispelled any notion that
the vehicle was simply pulling over speeders.

   When the pursuing Interceptor got closer the
machine gun opened fire with a stream of heavy 12.7 mm rounds. The bullets
struck the rear armor of the SUV with loud metallic thuds that sounded like
someone hitting metal with a hammer. The armor could withstand the impact almost
indefinitely, but ricochets or lucky shots might damage the solid rubber tires
enough to stop them.

   “You need to shoot back!” He yelled at Rora.

   “Who are they?” She yelled back.

   “Does it matter?” He replied calmly. “There are
guns in cases in the back.”

   He watched in the rear view mirror as she cleaned
over the seat and began rummaging through the cases. He saw her smile and pull
out an M4 carbine. Grabbing several clips she rammed one home and racked the
slide. The police car was getting closer as she got the gun and he could see
two hillbillies inside whooping and hollering as they blasted away at their
target.

   “That’s not going to get it done!” He called to
Rora. “You need something heavier.”