No Mere Zombie: Deathless Book 2 (17 page)

“Is there,” Yuri replied, giving a tight nod. “Beacon still broadcasting. Could be retrieved with small team. Drop in hot, enter hangar, get back on runway. Give Yuri team of four and could be done.”

“Can you do it quietly?” The Director asked, leaning in close to the bed. “Off the books.”

Yuri gave him an unreadable look for a long moment before replying. “Is possible. Is cover story for return? Landing will be questioned.”

This was one of many reasons the Director trusted Yuri. He didn’t ask why it was off the books. He didn’t even want to know. All he was interested in was accomplishing the mission he’d been assigned.

“Let me worry about the landing. I’ll have a flight cleared for this evening. Head down to hangar six at 7 pm. Your team will already be assembled,” Mark said, rising from the stool. He walked to the door, then turned back to face Yuri. “The mission is critical. If the package can’t be retrieved, it must be destroyed. I don’t care if you have to detonate Panama. No one gets that weapon.”

He stepped through the door and closed it behind him. This kind of flagrant disobedience would likely be the end of his career. In the past he’d been able to examine things with a clinical detachment, to make tough choices and commit unthinkable acts when needed. So why was he struggling here?

Maybe because the whole god-damned world had ended. Mohn had a responsibility to protect the human race, and for the first time in Mark’s life morality was overriding self-preservation. Maybe there’d be a clever quote about that on his tombstone.

Chapter 27- Salvage Operation

The Mother surveyed the wreckage in the central chamber, a fresh spike of despair piercing her breast. So many centuries of labor to modify this place to suit her needs. It had required the full might of her empire for the entirety of that time. Now it lay in ruins around her, perhaps damaged beyond repair.

A wet nose pressed into her leg. She looked down to find Yukon staring up at her adoringly. The strength of his loyalty pulsed from him. He was a simple creature, accepting that she was master and he just a companion. What surprised her was how content he found himself in such a role. It was something no self-respecting wolf would have accepted.
 

Wolves could acknowledge another as alpha, but that was just first among equals. Yukon accepted that she was superior in all things and that she would take care of him, in the same way a child viewed a parent. It baffled her.

“We’re going to embark on a journey,” she said, stroking his golden fur. He leaned into her leg, closing his eyes as she pet him. “We must head west to the ocean.”

She
must
repair the Ark, not just to secure her power base but also to lend strength to Blair’s cause. The closer Irakesh came to the Ark of the Redwood the stronger he would become. If Blair were to have a chance he’d need to pull strength from her Ark, but to do that it must be repaired.

In her own time she could have simply ordered her vassals to mine the necessary stone, then have it brought to another Ark or a place of power for imbuing. That was no longer possible. She’d have to mine the stone herself, and it must be done at a place of power. There were only two such places that might contain a charge this early in the cycle. One lay half a world away, but through luck or happenstance the other could be found in the ocean a few days west.
 

All she need do is secure one of these mighty ships she’d plucked from Blair’s memory. This could be found in the city men had named Lima, somewhere to the southwest.

The Mother turned from the chamber, extending her aura to encompass Yukon. They blurred through corridors until they reached the surface, bursting into bright sunlight in a swirl of dust.
 

So fast.
Yukon sent, giddy like a small child. Far more playful than any wolf would allow.
I am strong near you.
 

“Your strength will grow as we bond, little Yukon,” she said, smiling in spite of herself. She hated what had been done to the noble wolves, yet Yukon had proven brave and loyal. Perhaps there was more to these dogs than she’d been willing to admit.

What was that? She shaded her eyes, studying a cloud of dust along the south ridge. A vehicle rumbled down the trail, approaching the valley. Who dared violate the sanctity of her Ark? She shifted, baring her fangs as she and Yukon blurred towards the interlopers.
 

She charged up the trail, covering two miles in mere heartbeats. She landed on top of the hood of the jeep, which slammed on its brakes. There were four passengers, all wearing uniforms similar to the Mohn soldiers she’d so recently slaughtered.

“Peace,” the man in the driver’s seat cried. He had scraggly black hair badly in need of a comb. “We’ve come in peace. We were sent by your, uh, Ka-Dun. He said we might find sanctuary here.”

“Blair offered sanctuary?” she growled, flexing her claws.

“Yes,” the man replied, nodding vigorously. “He said that the werewolves are champions. Please, we have little food and no place to go. The zombies are everywhere. We are willing to work to earn our keep, but we need help. Do not turn us away.”

She considered. These men came as supplicants sent by her servant. If Blair had promised safety, then she was honor-bound to grant it. Was he wrong to do so? Very few had likely survived the deathless. They
did
need protection. He had done well, she decided.

“Very well, but you will serve as I bid. How many are you?” she demanded, dropping to the ground next to the jeep. She shifted back to her human form. The man’s eyes widened as he stared at her through the jeep’s driver side window.

“There are about thirty of us. The rest of the vehicles are up the ridge, a mile or so back. I am Rodrigo,” he said, pale underneath his tan.

“You may address me as Mother. Gather your people, Rodrigo. We journey west, first to Cajamarca and then on to Lima. You will aid me in my task,” she said, allowing a smile.
 

Blair had done very well indeed.

Chapter 28- Medellin 12km

Medellin 12km. Blair heaved a sigh of relief as they whizzed past the green sign. After days of slogging through jungles and backroads, they’d finally reached recognizable civilization. They were dirty, sweaty, tired and more than a little irritable. Maybe they’d travel more quickly now that they’d reached real freeways.

Then again maybe not. He peered out the rear passenger window at the cracked asphalt stretching before them. It was clogged with a sea of cars, more familiar Toyotas and Fords replacing the generic motocars he’d seen back in Peru. Figures shuffled between those vehicles, zombies in various stages of decay. Most looked up as they approached, shambling towards them with hungry eyes and low moans.

Jordan guided the jeep smoothly around them, his reflection in the rear view mirror impassive. One of the zombies got a bit too close, a dark-haired woman in a white dress. Her face was bathed in blood, her eyes hollow and vacant as she lunged for the front of the jeep. Blair braced himself as Jordan romped on the gas. The vehicle jerked, bones snapping as they rolled over the woman. He focused on the horizon trying to ignore the stench of rotting flesh.

The road wound towards one of the largest skylines he’d ever seen, massive buildings clustered together in the center of a city that sprawled across the high valley and the hillsides surrounding it. It reminded him a little of Los Angeles, though many of the structures had a definite Spanish feel. He got the impression that some of the smaller churches were centuries old. They contrasted oddly with the more modern skyscrapers, a sea of steel and glass looming over their sleepy companions.

“This place was voted the most innovative city in the world just a few months ago,” Liz said. Her voice seemed too loud in the oppressive silence.
 

No one wanted to speak or even look at each other. How could they? This had been a city with nearly four million people and now it was a tomb, a brutal reminder of the extent of their failure as the guardians of mankind.
 

“Maybe some of them survived,” Bridget offered into the silence lingering after Liz’s statement.

“I’m betting there are hundreds of survivors. Possibly thousands,” Blair replied, facing Bridget across the mountain of gear littering the backseat. “The smart ones will hunker down, but that will only last until food becomes an issue. I’d expect more than a few are holed up in grocery stores of more defensible buildings around them. Just like Cajamarca.”

“Cut the chatter,” Jordan growled as the vehicle decelerated to a near crawl.
 

Blair leaned out the jeep’s rear window into the hot wind to look for whatever Jordan must have seen. They’d entered a relatively clear part of the freeway, with only a few cars towards the edges. The center lanes were all empty, both of vehicles and zombies. It wasn’t hard figuring out why. The corpses were all occupied.

A horde of zombies surrounded a pair of battered land rovers. They reminded Blair of Trevor’s vehicle, though both were white instead of the deep green Trevor had favored. Each vehicle had a sort of crow’s nest built on top, surrounded by sheets of metal that had been welded together. Each nest had three figures who held long chrome poles with machetes duct-taped to the end. They were dressed all in black with umpire’s masks obscuring their features. It must have been murder in the heat.

All except one of them anyway. A white-furred werewolf towered over her companions. She was far too large to be male, corded muscles bunched under her fur. She wielded a spear much like the others, which she used on the gathering horde with impressive ferocity.

She scythed through them, slicing spinal cords and severing heads. Her companions jabbed at any zombie who made it onto the vehicle, but left the rest of the work to her. Evidently she’d been at it for a while, because a large pile of bodies now surrounded each vehicle. Not that it stemmed the tide of zombies. At least thirty still attempted to overwhelm the defenders, with more drifting towards them with each passing moment.

“They’ve seen us,” Jordan announced, slamming on the brakes. He used his left foot to push the e-brake into place. “How are we handling this? We need to decide now.”

One of the men on top of the rovers pointed
in their direction. Another on the rover without the werewolf ducked out of sight, returning a moment later with an assault rifle of some kind. An M-16 maybe? Jordan probably knew.

“Blair, you’re with me. I want to try talking but if they get hostile, immobilize the humans. I’ll deal with the female,” Liz announced, opening her door and dropping to the asphalt.
 

Blair opened his own door, back straight and shoulders square as he approached the rovers. A few zombies noticed them, but before they could pull away from the pack the man with the M-16 began picking them off with precise head shots.
 

“Stay where you are,” the white-furred female roared. She leapt from the rover, landing behind the milling mass. She danced between them, claws sending up sprays of blood as she cut down most of the remaining horde.
 

A pair of corpses moved towards Blair. He waited for them to approach, then blurred for a fraction of an instant. Just long enough to snap both necks. They collapsed to the asphalt, clearing the path for Liz.

She waited patiently while the werewolf completed her grisly work. The white turned to face them, licking blood from her muzzle as she approached. She stopped just a few feet away, baring her teeth as she flexed her claws. “Who are you and why have you come to Medellin?”

“My name is Liz,” she replied, stepping forward until she stood next to the towering werewolf. Her heart rate was steady, though Blair noted a sheen of sweat from the sweltering sun. “We’re just passing through on our way to Panama. I’m willing to exchange news if you’re interested, but then we’re moving on.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” the werewolf rumbled. An apologetic rumble. She pointed back towards the city. “We have a gathering there and our leader meets all travelers. Medico Roberto will decide what to do with you.”

“I wasn’t asking,” Liz growled, beginning to shift. The camo shirt tore from her shoulders, while the cargo pants all but exploded. In the blink of an eye, she went from two inches shorter than Blair to two inches taller than the strange werewolf. “My pack has been trained by the Mother and we outnumber you. Maybe you should rethink the whole detaining us thing.”

Blair was already moving. He needed to do something to impress these people, to cow them before the guy with the assault rifle did something stupid. He extended his hand, concentrating on the dozen or so zombies moving towards the rover. Blair split his will into a dozen spikes, like the heads of some giant imaginary hydra. It came easily now.

He thrust at the zombies, pulling the milling mass away from the rovers. He forced them to gather into a tight knot about fifty feet away, making the gesture he used to control them as theatrical as possible. It seemed to work. The man with the rifle and his companions all gaped openly.

"The Mother?" the White asked.

“The one who created us. She's taught us to use our abilities. Abilities that you can't even begin to imagine,” Liz-wolf growled, looming over the white werewolf.
 

The report of the assault rifle rang out every few seconds, each shot downing a zombie who was closing in on them.