Necropolis 3 (7 page)

It didn't so much have fingers as it did giant black claws that looked like industrial-strength, razor-sharp hooks meant for little more than rending and tearing. Even as this one fell, more of them emerged from the shadows, from around and over the stacks of crates, all of them making for the survivors in the open area.

Around Greg, guns spoke. Shotguns, pistols, and rifles, lighting the environment up. The squeals of these new things fought for auditory dominance over the gunfire. There was no time to think, merely to act.

Black blood flew on the air, razor claws sought to rend flesh and snap bone. Greg sighted up another terrifying face and let loose, blowing the thing's head clean off. He turned, barely had time to aim, and tore away half the skull of a third. He heard a sound above him, swung his gun up and saw one leaping down at him from overhead. He fired, punching a fist-sized hole in its chest and sending it flying wildly off course.

Greg emptied his shotgun and barely had time to bring his pistol into play as even more of them rushed him and the others. He heard them fighting at his back, doing everything they could to stem the abrupt tide of undeath that had ensnared them. He emptied his pistol, slapped a fresh magazine in and emptied it again.

The bullets went in and the black blood came out. Finally, there was a break in the tide. He emptied a third magazine and was reloading when two things happened. The first was that he had no more targets. The second was a loud screaming.

Greg spun and saw one of them had leaped onto Reed and was now tearing the man into pieces. Blood gushed in every direction. Mike put the barrel of his rifle to the thing's head and fired, the force of the three-round burst picking the latest monstrosity up and tossing it aside. Greg moved forward, but it was already painfully obvious that there was no helping Reed. His face, neck and chest had been literally shredded.

“
Good
God
.” Mike stared at the corpse.

“
This just keeps getting better.” Greg wiped some blood off himself.

“
Come on, we're almost there,” Kyra said.

They lingered for a few moments, unable to tear their eyes from the torn and bloodied thing that had once been a living man named Reed, and finally, Carter knelt and frisked him, retrieving his infoclips and spare ammo.

They moved swiftly through the remainder of the bay, hoping to avoid any more of the things that might remain, and came to the next door. Mike opened it up and they moved cautiously in the primary storage warehouse.

“
We should name the new ones,” Greg murmured.

“
I've got a goddamn good name for them,” Kyra replied.

“
What?”

“
Ripper.”

“
Yeah...that's a good one. Carter, will you report this to Lynch?” Greg asked.

Carter nodded, pale and shaken, and made the report to the woman in charge. Greg turned to Mike, who eyed a nearby terminal.

“Can you find the part we're looking for?” he asked.

“
Yeah,” Mike replied. “I just need a minute. I'm used to navigating these things. Did it all the time when I used to pull storage duty.”

He went to the terminal and booted it up. Greg moved closer to Kyra, who was looking grim, staring out across the stacks of crates.

“You okay?” he asked.

“
Yeah...well, not really, I guess. This is all getting pretty bad, isn't it?”

“
Yes, it is. Very, very bad. Two new kinds in an hour, both of them downright deadly, and then that thing that roared. God, this place is hell. Sometimes I really wonder if I'm dead, and this
is
some kind of hell environment. I mean, we keep getting closer and closer to escape...but then something else goes wrong. It's like two steps forward and eight steps back. And my friends keep dying. Everything just keeps getting worse.”

“
You've still got me,” Kyra said.

Greg chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, they'll take you away later, because you mean the most to me.”

“Oh, stop it. You aren't in Hell, for fuck's sake. We're just in a really, really shitty situation. We'll make it out, I promise...okay?”

Greg stared at her for a long moment. She was focusing wholly on him now, no longer paying attention to anything else.

He nodded uncomfortably. “Yeah, okay.”

After a moment, she smiled. “I matter most to you, huh?”

“Yep, I'm afraid so. No other pretty girls around.” He chuckled.

“
Well, I dunno, Linda was pretty nice to look at...”

“
Oh my God...are you
jealous
?” Greg asked, disbelief obvious in his voice.

“
No
,” Kyra snapped, hitting in him the shoulder. “I most certainly am
not
. Maybe I just like to appreciate women, too.”

“
I will
definitely
have to remember that.”

“
Oh, lord,” Kyra muttered.

“
Found it!” Mike called. “Come on, let's grab it and get the hell out of here.”

They followed him deeper into the warehouse, coming to another courtyard-like area that sported three of the mobile platforms. Mike climbed up onto one and began to manipulate the controls so that it rolled along the floor.

“Just cover me, I can find the part,” he said.

Greg replied affirmatively and rounded up the others. They followed him out of the courtyard and into one of the alcoves. They moved along as quickly as they could comfortably manage, eying the lingering shadows.

“Okay, almost there,” Mike called down.

Greg glanced up. He'd pushed the platform up nearly twenty feet and was perusing the ranked crates. After a moment, he finally stopped, selected one, and opened it up. Greg returned his attention to the ground floor. Kyra, Campbell, and Carter were all on edge, their uniforms covered with fresh blood, red and black.

“Okay, here I come,” Mike said.

He lowered the platform and hopped off it. As he opened up his radio to report the update and they made their way back out to the main corridor, their radios all suddenly squealed to life in a burst of static.

“Mike! Get your squad up to the armory. Half my men are down and the bastards just keep coming. We're getting overrun!”
Lynch called.

“
We're coming. Just hold on,” Mike replied.

They bolted through the pair of warehouses, coming back out into the main corridor. Greg had a vague idea where the armory was but Mike knew exactly where he was going, so they let him lead the way. The handful of survivors ran full tilt down the flickering, bloodied corridors, much too quickly for cautions sake.

A Ripper leaped out at Greg and nearly tore his face off before he blew its head clean away with a quick shotgun blast. They pounded down the hallway, listening to the chaotic sounds of battle grow in volume as they approached. Mike skidded to a halt outside a large hole in the left wall and all but dove through it.

Greg and the others hurried through. Inside, they found what appeared to be a processing factory that had been converted into an armory by Dark Ops when they'd ruled the area. As Greg got to work blasting away Undead, he noted that the Rippers appeared to be the dominate sub-type in the mining headquarters.

They made up more than half the monsters occupying the makeshift armory, the rest being zombies and a few Lancers. Greg shot one in the back of its head, pumped the shotgun and blew another off its feet. With the sudden infusion of a second fighting force, the Undead, who seemed to be completely surrounding Lynch and what remained of her squad, were now uncertain of what to do. A pack of Rippers broke away to deal with Greg and his crew, but were quickly dispatched by a combination of gunfire.

“
Come on!” Lynch called. “There's more on their way and we've got the carts loaded. We just need to get the fuck out of here.”

Greg, Mike, and the others shot their way through the ever-growing crowd of Undead and joined Lynch's squad in the center. They were defending a pair of hover-dollies that were loaded down with crates of ammo and spare weapons. As Greg's squad joined theirs, Lynch pushed towards another area of the armory.

They kept up the rate of fire against a seemingly endless wave of Rippers, Lancers, and zombies. Greg soon realized they were heading for a lift.

“
This leads to the tunnels.” Lynch called.

The lift was obvious just a loader, basically a flat piece of metal in the ground that would lower into the mining tunnels beneath. Greg ran forward and helped shove one of the hover-dollies into place. Once it was onboard, he turned and provided cover fire for the others who were wrestling with the second one.

Once everyone was onboard, Lynch hit the down button and the lift lowered into the ground with a horrible grinding sound. More and more Undead rushed them, a sheer wave of them being held back by brute force and lead. Greg knew it was only a matter of time before one got through, they couldn't keep this up forever. Sure enough, a Ripper leaped past their defenses and tore into one unlucky son of a bitch.

Lynch shot the thing in the head and immediately turned back to the crowd moving in around them. It seemed to take ages, but the lift finally lowered into the ground the full length. They shoved the hover-dollies off.

Literally the second they were clear, Lynch hit the up button to seal the entrance. They kept firing at everything that poured through until the lift was fitted back into place and cut off access from above.

“
Come on,” she said, out of breath. “Let's get the fuck back to base.”

As the blood-covered survivors moved the pair of hover-dollies down the lengthy rock-walled passageway they were in, their radios suddenly sprang to life.

It was Burne.
“The Augmented are attacking us. They've gotten past our defenses.”

Chapter 06

–
Tension
–

By the time they'd finished rushing through the underground tunnel network back to headquarters, Greg had come to learn that was much worse than they thought. The Augmented hadn't just gotten past their defenses, they'd
shut down
their defenses, and then attacked. Suddenly, the prospect of survival seemed a lot less certain.

Greg made sure to stock up on ammo and snatch a rifle to compliment his arsenal before scurrying up a nearby ladder with Kyra and Campbell close in tow. Overhead, he heard the brutal sounds of conflict: gunfire, the screams of the dying, hysterically shouted orders, an occasional explosion.

He reached the hatch and popped it open, poking his head cautiously out when it seemed that there were no immediate threats nearby. The hatch led to a small machine shop. Greg hauled himself out, then turned and offered helping hands to Kyra and Campbell. He only caught a quick glance of tabletops scattered with spare parts and greasy, abandoned tools before making for the door and hitting the access button.

In a corridor beyond, he managed to catch sight of a trio of security officers falling back, beating a hasty retreat as they fired at whatever chased them. Greg waited for the perfect moment, then, as the first enemy came into view of the door, he leveled his shotgun and fired, blowing the thing completely off its feet.

Another one came into view and Greg blew its head clean off. From the doorway, he helped the security officers kill off another two that had given chase. They were Drones, he saw, only much more advanced than the stilted, rickety things he'd run into on the
Anubis
. These half-machine monstrosities were built sturdier, walked smoother, and operated on a much more competent level than their fore-bearers.

Greg, Kyra, and Campbell slipped out into the corridor after making sure it was clear. They hurried over to the security officers.

“What the hell is happening?” Greg asked as he fed more shells into his shotgun.

“
Chaos,” one of them replied, breathing heavily. “All was quiet, then, all of a sudden, the things were coming in through the airlocks. Lockdowns, drone guns, scanning equipment, all of it just went dead. We need to get to the command center.”

“
Lead the way.”

The group hurried down the corridor to a closed door at the end. One of the guards opened it while another waited at the middle, weapon at ready. Even before the door finished opening, a thin, black barrel stuck in and fired. Suddenly, half the guard's head was missing and h
is corpse slumped to the floor.

Greg shouldered his shotgun and fired, blowing a fist-sized hole through the chest of a Drone that had lain in wait on the other side of the door. Another popped in, firing, its face blank and emotionless, glistening steel and circuitry covering half its body. One of the security guards shot it twice in the head and a third time in the mouth for good measure. Beyond the door was another corridor wreathed in chaos.

To his left and right Greg spied battlefields. There were easily a couple dozen Drones swarming the area. He could see the entrance to the main hangar where the bulk of their important equipment resided far down to his right and started towards it. They needed to make sure that remained safe above all else.

Greg reached the battle first. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to find cover, nothing to do but point and shoot. He put his shotgun to the back of a Drone’s head and fired, watching the skull vaporize in a plume of red gore and sparks. Even before that body finished falling, he swung the barrel around in a tight arc and fired again. Blowing the arm off another and sending is spinning and sprawling to the ground.

He heard the others add their own gunfire to the mix. Between his squad and the handful of survivors on the other side, standing in the opening where the corridor ended and the hangar began they managed to wipe out the rest of the Drones in a few moments. Greg left the two security personnel he'd found with the others to secure the area, and then took Kyra and Campbell into the hangar, which still seemed secure.

He led them across the way, through the chaos, towards the makeshift command area. Lynch and Mike had made it back and conferred with Burne and Powell.

“What's the word?” he asked.

“
Death,” Lynch replied grimly. “Glad you're here though, Bishop. These walls are pretty sturdy and take a hell of a long time to cut through. The windows are basically the same. That means that the only points of ingress these assholes could be coming from are the airlocks and some hatchways leading up from the tunnels. I've got guys securing those hatchways, but I'll need three good teams on the airlocks.

“
Burne, take a squad and get to the east airlock. Mike, you've got the west one, grab a squad. Bishop, you get your two cronies to go and secure the north airlock. Just go back out the way you came in, follow that corridor all the way to the end and turn right. You'll find it. I want you to kill anything you find, secure it, and then wait for reinforcements to hold the position. Is that easy enough for you to remember?” she asked.

“
Got it,” Greg replied.

“
Hold it,” Lynch said suddenly as they turned away.

Greg turned back around. “Yeah?”

“Any of you know how to work a welding kit?”

“
I do,” Campbell said.

Lynch frowned, and then grunted. It seemed to serve her as a sigh. “Fine. There's one over there on that table. Grab it. Seal that fucking airlock shut. And do a good job, or I'll take that welder to your junk.”

“I...okay.”

They turned and left the command area. Campbell grabbed the welding tool from the table and secured it to his belt as they made for the door.

“Better do a good job, Campbell,” Kyra said with a smirk in her voice.

“
Yeah, yeah,” Campbell muttered.

They moved past the security entourage that was still hanging around the exit, taking potshots at Drones that stepped out into the corridor and began making for them. The trio made their way down the lengthy, vaulted passageway.

“Does anyone find the sudden failing of our security systems in perfect conjunction with an Augmented strike even a little bit suspicious?” Greg asked.

“
I thought they just hacked our systems,” Campbell replied.

“
Maybe...but Powell is good. Really good. We're pretty much manually sealed off from exterior influences, as far as I understand it.”

“
So you think someone turned off the defenses?” Kyra asked.

“
Please tell me you still don't think it’s me,” Campbell said.

“
At this point, I'm not sure you're smart enough for something like that,” Greg replied.

Campbell rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“Of course, you could just be pulling the long game, pretending to be an idiot.”

“
Again, thanks.”

“
I don't think it's you,” Greg said.

“
Who then?” Campbell asked.

“
That's the thing, no idea. There's something like sixty or seventy people I've seen so far. Probably more. No idea how many of them might be willing to turn. Erebus tried to cut a deal with me. It obviously didn't work, but I imagine it's gotten better at making deals.”

“
So, what do we do?” Kyra asked.

“
For now? Stay alive and keep an eye out. It could be anyone.”

They reached the end of the corridor, putting down a few surviving Drones in the area. The fighting seemed to have moved on to other portions of the base, for which he was grateful. These new and improved Drones were downright terrifying. They could
move
,
swiftly and with great lethality. Greg turned a corner and looked around.

Nothing. The corridor beyond was smaller and clear, save for a dead Drone on the ground with its chest caved in and half its head blown away. Greg moved past it when the thing suddenly twitched. Light flickered into its remaining eye.

“Bishop...” it said in a groaning monotone.

Greg whirled and raised his weapon, but held his trigger finger. “Erebus.”

“I'm not done with you...not yet.”

“
Same here, you fucker. I'm not even
close
to done with you.”

Greg squeezed the trigger and blew the rest of the things head away.

“Man, those things are fucking creepy,” Campbell muttered.

“
Yeah. Come on.”

They kept going, following this corridor another dozen meters and locating the smallest of the three airlocks, the one they'd come in through originally. The inner door was open, but there was no one and nothing waiting for them in the locker room or the airlock. Greg moved forward, double-checking the interior of the airlock itself, and found it empty.

“Okay, get to it, we'll watch your back,” he said.

Campbell nodded and stepped into the airlock. He slipped on a pair of black welder's goggles he'd grabbed and set the work, welding the door into place so that it wouldn't open without considerable effort.

Greg moved back into the locker room with Kyra. They sat on one of the benches and kept an eye on the only way into the room besides the airlock.

“
So...” Greg said.

“
So...?” Kyra replied.

Greg laughed. “How about dinner and a drink after we get out of this shithole of a system?”

“I think that sounds like the greatest thing I've ever heard in my life...god, I've never been so
tired
. Or wanted a drink so bad.” She stretched and popped her neck.

“
I hear that!” Campbell called from the airlock.

“
Ugh, I don't like that guy,” Kyra muttered.

“
He's kinda growing on me,” Greg admitted.

She glanced dubiously at him. “Tell me you aren't serious.”

“I'm afraid I can't do that.”

Kyra heaved a sigh. “God, fine. I'm not going to be one of those bitch girlfriends that try to choose their boyfriend's friends for them.”

“You know, you strike me as the kind of girl who gets along with guys rather than girls,” Greg said suddenly.

Kyra opened her mouth to respond, stopped, closed it, and then nodded. “Yeah, I guess you could say I am. It's honestly never occurred to me before, but yeah, almost all of my friends have been guys. Which is kind of annoying.”

“Oh?”

“
Yeah. I don't know if it's just me, but I can tell when a guy is thinking about fucking me. It happens a lot. I used to let it go to my head...then I realized that if given the opportunities, most guys would fuck pretty much any girl they come across.” She shrugged.

“
I see,” Greg replied.

Kyra laughed. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No.”

“
Uh-huh. You're gonna have to get used to this. I swear like a sailor, I can probably drink you under the table and I'm not afraid to fist fight.”

“
I'm pretty much used to that at this point.”

“
Man, is this how you guys flirt? It's weird,” Campbell said.

They both looked over. He was standing in the doorway, goggles still on, welder in hand. He smirked and chuckled.

“Get back to work,” Kyra said.

“
But I'm done.”

“
The inner door isn't sealed up.”

Campbell heaved a sigh, closed the inner door and set to work. Several more minutes passed in an uncomfortable silence until he finally finished, killed the torch, and straightened back up. He turned to face them.

“Done.”

“
Finally,” Kyra replied.

Greg activated his radio. “Lynch, this is Bishop. We're secure.”

“Good. I've got a security team on the way there. They're gonna eyeball the job and, if they're satisfied Campbell's done a good job, then you'll all head for the garage for back up I understand Burne is having some trouble.”

“
Roger that.”

While they waited, Campbell asked, “Do you really think I'm dumb?”

Greg looked at him for a moment, and then held up his hand, his thumb and index finger a quarter inch apart.

“
A little,” he admitted.

“
Thanks, Bishop. You're a great guy.”

“
Better answer than I would've given,” Kyra replied.

The security team showed up. They were frustrated that they couldn't look at the outer door, but seemed satisfied with the job done on the inner door and reported as much to Lynch. Once that was done, the six of them set off again into the complex.

The sounds of conflict grew louder as they drew closer to the garage. Listening in on the comms network, Greg could hear that Mike and his squad had finished up their own job and were also converging on the garage. There must have been a hell of a battle going on there. The chaotic cacophony only grew in intensity.