Monster Hunter Legion-eARC (26 page)

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Authors: Larry Correia

Tags: #Urban Life, #Fantasy, #General, #Contemporary, #Fiction

BOOK: Monster Hunter Legion-eARC
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“I did you a favor getting that much of a delay approved. I put my neck on the line for you. You were lucky to get twenty-four hours.” Stark was turning red. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“Then tell me!”

“I…” Stark glanced left again. “I can’t.”

“If you can’t, then put somebody on who can.”

“I’m the final authority on this mission.”

“Bullshit. You’re a lap dog for Special Task Force Unicorn. Put Stricken on.”

Stark blanched when he heard those words, but he tried to recover. “I’m the head of the MCB. Don’t question my authority!”

Earl’s voice turned into a low growl. The assembled Hunters all took an unconscious step away from him. “
Now.

Stark hesitated, glancing to the side one last time. He listened quietly, then, resigned, shuffled out of view without another word. A moment later he was replaced with the narrow, unnaturally pale face of Mr. Stricken, who seemed to fold his long body into the space. His odd-colored glasses hid his eyes. “Harbinger,” he greeted without emotion.

“What’ve you done to us, Stricken?”

“I merely offered you a lucrative business opportunity. I thought it was some Decision Week dreg that needed a fast cleanup. It wasn’t until a couple of hours ago that I was briefed on the particularly nasty nature of this case. If I had been aware of the threat level sooner, I would have dealt with this matter internally. If you have anyone in there who isn’t already familiar with the basic facts of that incident, send them out of the room now. They’ll thank me later.”

None of the Hunters moved.

Earl controlled his seething rage long enough to ask, “What’ve you locked in here with us?”

“Let’s see…Locked in there with you: Ick-mip guests of a non-militant persuasion, approximately one hundred and forty. Staff, one hundred and twenty-two. Monster Hunters, two hundred and fifteen from fourteen different companies. One crew of sheetrockers, some union electricians, and we’re trying to get a handle on gambling addicts that were dumb enough to be there at four A.M., but I’m estimating that around fifty, and an unknown number of co-eds and party girls who crashed Grimm Berlin’s celebration, and last but not least, one extremely dangerous science experiment.”

“Capabilities?”

“Unknown.”

“Weaknesses?”

“Unknown.”

“What do you know?”

Stricken’s smile was totally devoid of human warmth. “Most of the records pertaining to this particular experiment have been destroyed or buried deep, even by my admittedly high standards for secrecy. However, it has been brought to my attention that some of the original Decision Week scientists are still alive and may have firsthand knowledge. We are contacting them now.”

The Unicorn man was a seething bundle of lies, but that part sounded plausible. “There’s a reason you locked this place down so quick when you found out it had followed us here. There’s something else. How do you know this thing is so dangerous?”

“My first responders retrieved some physical evidence from the containment unit.”

Earl looked to me and I nodded.

Stricken’s laptop was rigged to watch the entire room. We should have known. “Pitt…I’m not surprised. So that was you in Dugway with Agent Franks.”

Denying it would only waste valuable time. “There were some tags missing from the old machine.”

Stricken chuckled. “Interesting. I was wondering who that second man in the photos was. It was hard to tell with those chemical suits on. It figures. I’ll have to have a few words with old Frankie about the necessity of maintaining security protocols.”

“You do that.” If we were lucky Franks would lose his temper and beat Stricken to death, hopefully before he got to me for inadvertently ratting him out.

“My team did recover some items. One of the others had a project identification number. Setting internal matters aside for now, and getting back to your original question, we were able to track the identifiers back to one of the most exciting and secretive weapons projects in history. I’m assuming you already knew that, though. Of course you do, because Agent Franks couldn’t keep his big fat stupid mouth shut. Interesting fact, did you know that they ranked all of the World-War-II-era experimental weapons systems on a scale from one to ten, with one being the least, and ten being the most potentially destructive and disruptive to society?” Stricken waited.

“Werewolves were a two,” Earl whispered.

“To put the projects in perspective, the atomic bomb, which, as you are well aware, was the final choice of which avenue to pursue, began at an estimated number four and ended up as a number five. Anything over that was considered unreasonably dangerous. Of the supernatural options that were explored at Los Alamos, the plan to bomb Germany with a zombie virus was a steady number eight. Zombifying Japan was only a seven, but that’s because it was an island and zombies can’t swim for shit. Anything dealing with the Old Ones was considered too dangerous to contemplate unleashing without significant backlash, and got an automatic ten.”

“Get to the point,” Earl said.

“As new projects were introduced or more was learned about their potential, the projects were moved up or down on the sliding scale. This particular project began as a lowly number two, but after one single field trial was moved to a
thirteen
. We’re talking about the judgment of men who thought enslaving demons was simply another way to expand the scientific frontier, yet something about this particular project scared them shitless. Luckily, this was not one of the projects that got loose during Decision Week. They destroyed the records and the evidence was buried, until now.”

“Why didn’t they just kill it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they didn’t have the technology. Who knows? If I find out, I’ll let you in on the secret. In the meantime, as for your request to let the innocent bystanders out, I have to deny that request. The phenomenon has some incorporeal nature, otherwise it wouldn’t have been able to follow Hugo Schneider back to Las Vegas. For all we know, it’s
inside
one of you.”

The Hunters all shared an uneasy glance. It was certainly possible, but
who?
“You know anything else?”

“I know you’re probably fucked, but you’ll go down fighting. That should buy my organization time to learn more. My superiors have granted me some leeway. If you can’t provide me a permanent solution by this time tomorrow morning, we’ll raze the casino to the ground and salt the earth. If we think it might escape, that timeline will speed up rather dramatically. My number-one mission parameter is to maintain secrecy at all costs. My secondary parameter is to protect the city and as much of the population as possible. They go hand in hand. The higher the body count, the harder it’ll be for Agent Stark and his remarkable PR department to make this all neatly go away. Let’s make the best of our brief time together. Anything else?”

“I’ve got manpower but we don’t have much in the way of equipment. How about you send your robot back over with a trailer of ammunition and medical supplies.”

“Harbinger, Harbinger, Harbinger…” Stricken’s laugh was cold. “Come on, buddy. I’m going to give the order to burn you out of there tomorrow morning. I know how you people think. The last thing I want to do is arm you better! Put yourself in my shoes. I’m under no delusions that you’re going to find a way to beat this thing when the best minds of the greatest generation couldn’t. But we’re in Vegas, so I’m in a gambling mood. I’ll put a little on my long shot, i.e., you, but I’ve got to hedge my bets. If that’s all, I’ve got work to do.”

“And Heather’s team? Did they really disappear, or were you using her to motivate me to do your dirty work?”

Stricken stroked his chin thoughtfully with his eerily long fingers. “I told the truth that time. There’s still no sign of them. She’s MIA.”

Earl hung his head for a very long time. The Hunters were so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. “Stricken?”

“Yes, Harbinger?”

“This isn’t over between me and you.”

“I would expect nothing less. I’ll be in touch.” The screen went black.

Chapter 14

One of the first keys to survival in a bad situation is organization, or as Earl liked to say, “Keep your shit together and you’re less likely to choke.”

Milo had completed his inventory of all our available equipment. It wasn’t nearly as good as I’d hoped. Sure, all of the Hunters had been armed, but very few had been loaded for bear. My team was the only one that had come in directly from a mission with a full load-out. Our Hunters who had road-tripped in had quite a bit of gear, but the ones who had flown in were minimally armed, though after the lesson of the Christmas party, you’d be hard pressed to find an MHI member who travelled anywhere without at least two guns and their armor. The Hunters from other countries were worse off, with most of them having been dissuaded by all of the bureaucratic hoop-jumping, though many of them had found some crafty way to arm themselves locally immediately after Stricken’s challenge. A few had even been able to do it legally.

We had no heavy weapons. We had almost nothing left as far as explosives. The ammunition supply would be sufficient for maybe one decent engagement, and we were sorely regretting all the silver .308 we’d wasted on a nearly empty gas station. Cooper had been given the assignment of improvising some explosives, so he had drafted a few other Hunters, some of the staff, and even one of the strippers Holly had invited, and was teaching them how to make IEDs. Hotel security had one arms locker that they were very proud of, but which was relatively lame by our standards. Mitch had claimed its contents for his staff who were guarding the casino’s vault.

Trip and I had gone back out on patrol. There weren’t nearly as many of us wandering around now. Rumors were spreading like wildfire amongst the trapped guests, and it had started getting really heated. One tourist had lost his temper and taken a swing at one of the Brazilian Hunters, who had promptly choked the fellow unconscious. It is never smart to get into a wrestling match with a Brazilian. That had gotten a few more people riled up, and so now all of our more diplomatic Hunters were occupied babysitting.

This whole situation was really bugging me, but there was one thing in particular that was eating away at my calm. We took the elevator up to the roof to check on my wife’s team. Team was a real overstatement, since basically Julie had grabbed anyone who had brought a rifle with a high-magnification scope and stuck them where they could get the best view. I knew she had collected four people, two who didn’t speak any English, and an orc that wouldn’t leave his helicopter.

We’d procured a key card from Mitch that let us access the areas that were normally restricted. It was windy and surprisingly cold on the roof. The morning sun was a pale globe over the desert. Las Vegas was a different animal in the early sunlight; a big, lethargic, sleepy, decrepit, sleazy animal that had stayed up too late drinking the night before and woke up grumpy. Since the Last Dragon was one of the tallest buildings in the city, Julie had a commanding view of the strip from here.

I spotted my wife at the far corner of the roof. She had her back to us, and was braced against the railing, watching something far below through her scope. I wanted to talk to her alone. “Do me a favor and check on Skippy,” I told Trip. “See if there’s a phone up here and he knows to answer it if it rings.”

“Does Skippy even know how to use a phone? Guess I’ll find out.”

Julie heard my approach and quickly turned to see who or what was coming towards her. Relief flooded her face. She was just as jumpy as the rest of us. “Hey. Glad you’re here.”

“You should keep somebody close by to watch your back,” I chided her. “Remember what happened to Hugo.”

“I’m not stupid,” she answered as she slung her M-14, her manner suddenly defensive. That usually only happened when I was right, which wasn’t very often. “I’ve been doing this longer than you have.”

“You pulling rank on me, dear?”

Julie frowned. That had been a cheap shot, though as MHI’s business manager she did outrank MHI’s accountant. “I’ve only got four people and a really big area to watch.”

“Then I’ll go ask for some more,” I answered gently.

“Fine.” Julie relented. “Sorry, I’m touchy is all.”

“Me too.” I took a spot next to her at the railing. Looking over the side made me dizzy, but it didn’t seem to bother her any. Her dark hair was loose and blowing in the wind. There was something I was worried about, but I wasn’t ready to broach the topic yet. “Anything new and exciting?”

“There are snipers on the casino’s other rooftops. They’re watching us right now.” I looked around but couldn’t see anything. “Don’t bother. They’re pretty well hidden. Down here,” Julie pointed to the right, “is the pool and the gardens. You might want to have the staff lock those doors, because people are still wandering out there looking for a way out, but I’m not seeing any of our patrols, so I don’t think we knew that part was still open. Oh, and I know where Presumptuous Trout went.”

“Huh?” It took me a moment to realize that Julie had decided to jump on the bandwagon and start making fun of Paranormal Tactical too. “Those jackasses? Where?”

She nodded at the barricades on the street. “Stricken has hired some contractors to work security.”

“Son of a bitch.” I didn’t have the scope, so would have to take her word for it. “What douchebags.”

“The word that came to mind for me was
whores
. Other than that, from here I can see in the windows to the conference center and walkway over the concourse. I saw Earl walk through there a minute ago, looking madder than usual.” Somebody had already given her a brief summary, but I told her all the details from the grim conversation with Stricken. “So do you think the science experiment in that containment unit was the thing that’s supposed to end the world that your dad has been trying to tell us about?”

“I don’t know for sure, but it doesn’t
feel
like it.” Sure, the symbol had been there and all, but it had felt new, whereas the occupant of the unit had been there for decades. It was more like the symbol had been used to wake it up. “Here’s hoping it’s not. We’re not ready. But honestly, it’s the instigator, but I don’t think Hugo’s
Nachtmar
is it.”

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