Epic: Book 03 - Hero (12 page)

“
Captain Ulrich, eh?” Becan asked. “Tha’s just brilliant.”

Brunner scrutinized the Irishman. “What is your name?”

“
Becan McCrae.”

“
And you?” She turned to Oleg.

“
Strakhov, lieutenant.”

“
The two of you will fortify the back door from which you came. Your medic will stay with you until needed. We have a medic with us already.”

“
Uhh…” mumbled Becan, glancing at Max.

“
Do what she says,” Max said in frustration.

“
Righ’.”

“
There is a safe room on the second floor of this building,” Brunner said. “We must assume there are humans inside. We cannot wait—we move now.”

The operatives around her affirmed.

“
Max,” she said, lowering her tone, “are you hurt bad?”

“
I’m never hurt,” he answered, readying his weapon.

“
Good. Then let’s go.”

* * *

Back at the warehouse, Viktor neared the corner of the stairs to the roof, the alien weapon still in his hands. He stopped just before the corner, scanning the hallway a final time. No one was present. No Bakma. No teammates.

No witnesses.

The Nightman listened to Jayden’s sniper fire from the radio tower. He listened closely as the Texan did his job. A minute passed, then the time to listen came to an end.

Placing the plasma rifle against his shoulder, the Nightman medic rounded the corner. His eyes narrowed as he searched for his target. He pulled the trigger without a moment of pause.

The white bolt struck Jayden from behind. The Texan’s sniper rifle flew from his hands as he toppled from the tower.

Viktor didn’t see the sniper fall, but he heard the impacts—over and over as the Texan careened against metal crossbars all the way down. Lowering the plasma rifle from his shoulder, Viktor glanced down the hallway once again. He was still alone. He tossed the alien weapon back down the hall, where it slid to a stop by the fallen corpses. He reclaimed his assault rifle and mounted the stairs.

At street level, Esther had been running when she heard the blast. Her nimble steps skidded to a halt in the snow as she turned her head to the tower.

She gasped as she watched Jayden plummet. She screamed through the comm. “Jayden’s been hit! I repeat, Jayden’s been hit! He’s fallen from the tower!”

* * *

At the rear entrance of the federal building, Becan and Varvara went rigid, as if Esther’s words failed to register. When they finally did, Varvara completely lost her composure. “Esther, what happened?” she asked frantically over the comm. There was no response.

“
Jay!” Becan shouted into his helmet mic. “Jay, can yeh hear me?
Jayden
?”

“
Travis, are you still outside?” asked Varvara.

“
Yeah,” the pilot answered. “I heard what Esther said. Do you want me to take you there?”

Max’s voice cut in. “Nobody’s taking anyone anywhere!”

“
Yes! I am coming!” Varvara said, ignoring Max. She darted for the metal door.

Becan reached out with his good arm and snatched her. “Wait! I’m comin’ with yeh.”

Oleg watched the two operatives rush away.

Becan readied his m-19 handgun. “Oleg, hold this place for a sec—I’m takin’ her ou’ to the ship, I won’t be gone long!”

“
Uh…”

Becan was out the door with Varvara a split second later.

* * *

Viktor walked calmly toward Jayden. The Texan was crumpled in a motionless heap, a deep hole smoldering in the back of his armor. It had easily been a twelve-meter drop. Blood was splattered on the rooftop from where his helmet had hit the ground. Then Viktor stopped in his tracks.

Jayden was still breathing.

Hurrying to the Texan, Viktor watched as his chest moved. He rolled Jayden over, face-up. Jayden’s visor was completely shattered inward. His face was a disfigured wreck. But he seemed to have survived the treacherous fall.

Viktor lifted Jayden’s chin, exposing the unconscious man’s neck. As he lifted his hand to make the kill-strike, he heard Esther. He looked up, flinging his hand back down to his side just as the scout emerged onto the rooftop from a side-mounted ladder.

“
Jayden!” In the next instant, Esther was racing across the roof.

Viktor’s countenance instantaneously changed. The Nightman quickly felt Jayden for a pulse. He looked only briefly at Esther. “What happened? Did you see it?”

“
They struck him from behind!” she said, covering her mouth as she saw the Texan’s face. “Oh my God.”

“
We must get him into a C-collar and onto a spinal board. Help me, quickly!” He removed a portable cervical collar from his kit. “He is not posturing—that is a good sign.”

“
What does that mean?” asked Esther, breathing heavily.

“
It means he is not cringing inward.” Viktor got on the comm. “Navarro, bring the
Pariah
here at once.”

Becan’s voice yelled over the airwaves, “Somebody tell us wha’ the bleedin’ hell happened!”

“
Jayden got struck from behind,” Esther answered. “He fell from the tower.” Her voice strained to be reassuring. “He’s going to be all right, Viktor’s with him.”

Viktor eyed her for a moment, then went back to work.

* * *

As Becan and Varvara reached the
Pariah
, Travis shouted from the cockpit, “Hold on, we’re taking off.”

With his good arm, Becan pointed repeatedly. “Go! Go! Go!” He looked back out the rear bay.

Then he saw them. Bakma—right there in the alley he’d just come from. Right past the metal door. Before he could register their numbers, they opened fire on the rear of the ship. Becan dove out across the street as plasma bolts flew into the snow. As he hit the ground, his wounded shoulder surged with fresh pain. He scrambled up and watched the Bakma flood inside. Then the realization hit him.

He’d left Oleg alone.

“
Bollocks!” Becan scampered back to the building and readied his assault rifle.

“
Becan!” Travis said. “What are you doing?”

“
Scram! Go after Jay!”

The next sound Becan heard made him go rigid. Plasma fire exploded from the back of the federal building, engulfing the lone spray of an assault rifle. A five-second ruckus of sound ensued, followed by silence. By the time Becan got to the door, it was too late.

Jerking the door open, he burst in, aiming his weapon. He thought he was prepared for the worst, but nothing prepared him for what he actually saw.

Blood was everywhere. The walls were stained with scorch marks and holes. Death pulsed through the air. But it was not human death.

A stranger was standing in the hallway, the broken bodies of six Bakma scattered around him. The man’s hands were poised to strike. His fighting stance was eager and cold. It was a stance Becan had never seen before. In one hand, the man’s knuckles were anxiously protruded. In his other, his assault rifle loomed. When he turned to the door where Becan stood, chills broke over the Irishman’s skin.

It was Oleg. The expression on his face was unfathomable, vile.

The two stared at one another for a mere second before everything about Oleg changed. The killer’s posture snapped into a kind of alarmed subordination. His butcher’s gleam transformed into innocent shock. He became the man Becan knew once again.

For several moments, they stared at each other. Then Oleg bent forward and heaved. He spoke in the same soft voice he’d always adopted. “What a rush…”

The Irishman stood motionless in the open metal door, his M-19 still in his hand. Then he lowered it. “Yeah…what a rush…”

* * *

Max pressed against the second-floor wall as a flurry of plasma flew past him. Maksim rolled forward from behind, awkwardly crouching and firing an armor-piercing round from his own hand cannon. The Bakma fled around the corner in retreat.

Lieutenant Brunner had flattened herself against the opposite wall. She barked out orders through her comm. “Shavrin, do you know the location of the safe room?”

“
Yes, lieutenant.”

“
There are civilians there. Retrieve them.”

A Bakma warrior emerged from the corner and fired. It narrowly missed Brunner, who countered with a shot of her own. The Bakma was struck in the side and slunk back in retreat.

Brunner was on her feet again. “Max, I am going ahead. I am taking your demolitionist with me. Make sure nothing comes from behind you.”

Max gritted his teeth and hobbled forward. “No,
I’m
going with you. Maksim, you stay here and cover the rear.”

“
This is not the time or the place to prove you’re a man,” she snapped back. “You will do as I say.” She looked back at Maksim. “Are you ready to go?”

Maksim exchanged a conflicted look with both lieutenants.

Max growled and fired a shot in frustration. “Draggin’ bull-headed woman. You wanna play it your way, go get killed. Go with her, Frolov.”

As Maksim took to Brunner’s side, she said to Max, “You had better watch the rear well.”

“
I’m watching! I’m watching! Freakin’
go
!”

Brunner and Maksim charged the corner.

* * *

Scott had been leading the priests outside when the overhead sprinklers kicked on in the church. The moment he left the building, he saw why. The top of the bell tower, where the alien sniper had once been, was engulfed in flames.

He had heard the announcement about Jayden over the comm. But there was no time to think about that now. He had two dripping wet priests in the middle of a snowfall.

On the other side of the street, on an adjacent corner, stood a row of residential housing. Only one thought came to Scott’s mind: warmth. “Across the street,” he said to the priests. “Come on,
move
!” Grabbing one by the arm, he dragged him along.

Nicolai had been directly behind Scott until something else caught the slayer’s attention. Down the street, several blocks ahead, a canrassi lumbered around. The Nightman raised his weapon to fire.

As soon as Scott reached the first doorway, he tried the knob. It was locked.
There’s no time for this.
Taking a step back, he struck out with his foot and bashed the door in. Gunfire struck him immediately. He flew back through the air. It wasn’t plasma—that much was revealed by the clattering sound of metal against his armor. It was something more brutal. As Scott landed back-first in the snow, gasping for breath, he registered the way he’d been hit. The wind was completely knocked out of him. He looked into the house. Huddled in the far corner was a terrified family, shielded by an old man with a shotgun. When they saw his gleaming horns, they froze.

It took every ounce of strength to fight off his pain, after which Scott grabbed the two priests and hurled them inside. He was too winded to talk, but it didn’t matter. The family would know what to do. He heaved a rasping breath and turned to the street.

His fulcrum armor now bore a dent, though by the looks of it, no pellets had pierced it. The armor had likely saved his life. Taking another moment to fill his lungs, he lifted his head to find his teammate.

As Nicolai pressed the trigger, in the middle of the street the spider-eyed canrassi made its charge. It lasted mere moments. A hiss came from the church doorway as a smoke trail soared at the beast. The front half of the canrassi exploded. Its bloody carcass crashed to the snow.

Egor emerged from the building, smoke rising from the barrel of his hand cannon.

Scott was there moments later, and he pointed to the fire in the bell tower. “What the hell happened?”

“
I had few options,” Egor answered. “That was the safest one for my life. Buildings can be replaced. I cannot.”

Svetlana appeared in his wake. Behind the sky-blue tint of her visor, she appeared overwhelmed.

Scott knew why. She was fighting alongside Nightmen for the first time. Not a Nightman who was her boyfriend, who would always show her his best side. True Nightmen. People who would burn down a church at the first inclination it might get the job done, without giving it a second of thought.

Dostoevsky and Auric arrived next. The commander wasted no time. “I will go to the warehouse to assist Captain Clarke. Auric and Egor, you will come with me.”

Svetlana’s mouth fell open. “But what about this church? Will we just let it
burn
?”

“
We are not firefighters, Svetlana.”

“
We are the fire,” Nicolai said cryptically. He was silenced by a hard look from Scott.

She shook her head in disbelief. “This is not right.”

Scott fought to stop his thoughts from becoming words.
You’re surrounded by murderers. Of course it’s not right.

She set her eyes squarely on him. “Scott, this is not what righteous men do.”

Those words hit him strangely. They didn’t hit him because he felt righteous—he hadn’t felt righteous in months. They hit him because they were laced with, of all things, sincerity.