Plaguelands (Slayers Book 1) (29 page)

“Wrong,” I said coldly. “I do.”

A few thousand kilometers above us, the Fleet task force engaged their MAC guns. A few thousand kilometers away in the east, three huge craters suddenly appeared in the ground. And a few hundred meters away, the zombies suddenly lost the last ties to their consciousness.

The Reverend stood up holding his box aloft.

“The glory of the Lord is upon us!” he shouted.

Rebekah lifted her rifle and pulled the trigger in quick movement. She severed the wires to the bombs in one instant.

We all stared at her in surprise.

“What?” she asked.

“You could have blown us up!” I screamed.

“Oh,” Rebekah said, shocked and dismayed.

Outside, the zombies had lost control. Without the therapeutic effects of the ultra-low-frequency signals, they weren’t pushing in the same direction. Some were even turning on each other. But they weren’t going away and we were at the maximum concentration.

The Reverend started to run, but he was blocked by one of the soldiers.

“Restrain him,” I said, pointing at the Reverend. “We need to question and try him. Get him back to camp.”

“The camp is one strong push short of collapsing,” MacDonald frowned.

“Then I’m gonna stay out here and fight,” I said.

“I’m staying with you,” Rebekah said, grabbing my hand.

“We’re heading back to the line,” MacDonald said.

I shook his hand. He and the rest of our team loaded the Reverend in the helicopter, handcuffed and blindfolded. Rebekah and I covered our eyes as the chopper lifted off back to the west.

“We probably won’t make it through the night,” I noted.

“I never expected to,” she replied. “I figure my daddy and my brothers died right here defending those they loved. There’s no better place to die, doing the same thing.”

“Let’s go then,” I shouted, running forward toward the battle.

Flares had been sent up over the valley and helicopters hovered in the distance with spotlights on. It was eerily illuminated with the sun rising in the east. I could see the fighting stretching up the hill.

In the distance, to the southeast, I could see the massive shapes of the hulks closing the distance to our position. They had been slower than the runners and drudges to arrive at the chokepoint. They’d pass right by us on their way to the river’s edge. I checked my rifle, and Rebekah did the same.

As I was about to pull the trigger I heard a loud whining sound screaming through the air from the west. Something large and round impacted the ground just barely on our side of the river and threw up a cloud of mud and rocks.

Then another one impacted just a little bit farther. Another one impacted just beyond that.

“Orbital guns?” Rebekah asked.

“No,” I said. “Something else.”

Through the clearing muck, I could see a blue-cloaked figure rushing out of the capsule and destroying zombies with powerful punches and kicks. I knew what I was seeing, just couldn’t explain why it was happening. Another capsule impacted, the front of it exploding away to reveal another blue-cloaked figure racing forward with a long black spear in his hands, his black bodysuit showing underneath the billowing cape.

My communicator beeped. It was Holland.

“We’re clear for an orbital strike on the main force of hulks,” he announced.

“Do it,” I said firmly.

The capsules containing the Cerulean Order kept impacting around us. Their presence was incredible. The matter repulsors on their hands either ripped pieces off of the zombies, or flung entire bodies hundreds of meters. Their black spears sliced through everything as if made of the sharpest razor blades imaginable.

In an instant, the sky lit up and a terrific explosion rocked the ground a few kilometers in front of us. A wall of debris came rushing in advance of the impact shockwave. The Ceruleans all spun in a circle and dropped to the ground, their cloaks stiffening against the force of the blast, and protecting them. Rebekah and I dropped to the ground and covered our heads. Fortunately we were far enough away that the heavy debris wasn’t a threat, but lots of pebbles and little rocks crashed around us, pinging off our helmets.

The Cerulean Order resumed beating back the zombies. We sat and watched, with no need to go engage ourselves. Dozens of black bat and butterfly shapes were now circling over the battle, firing laser-like weapons into the fray. Rebekah was initially frightened, then after I reassured her, confused. In a matter of twenty more minutes, the attack had been completely repelled from the hillock near our camp.

Rebekah and I started walking along the highway toward the destroyed bridge. We walked down the embankment to the river to look for a place to cross. One of the Kergueleni aircraft hovered above us, turning on a spot light.

We were suddenly engulfed in the light, which was blinding to the point where we couldn’t see anything.

And then we were inside the craft.

I was shocked. Stunned. A little scared actually. General Skygard was in standing front of me.

“Sorry for the unannounced arrival,” she smiled, “but we actually had a change of plans en route.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“We were ordered here by Chairman Winterfall to pick off the remnants of the Cascadia Republic,” she said. “But there’s been a vote of no confidence on the chairman by our Senate and a change of government: only the second
ever
in our nation’s storied history.”

“The new chairman is Lord Titus Skygard, my father,” she added. “He listened to my pleas, and your pleas through me, and decided to come to your aid in the hopes of forging a long and prosperous partnership.”

“I think our Senate will be most interested to hear about this,” I said. “And I thank you for your support in our darkest hour.”

Rebekah looked at General Skygard, then at me, then back at Skygard…then back at me.

“Who is this lady?” she yelled.

We slowly drifted over the battlefield in the Kergueleni aircraft—not so much “hovering” as just “floating”—watching as the Cerulean Order utterly vanquished the hulks and drudges below. The zombies, absent the soothing pulses of ultra-low frequency energy, had gone into a frenzy and were fighting with a bloodlust that hadn’t been observed since time immemorial…but it was no match for the superior fighting skills and augmented nano battle-suits of the Order.

The combined Cascadian, Californian, and local forces had taken advantage of the arrival of the Kergueleni air and ground forces, and had now pushed the zombie horde back across the river toward where the bulk of the Ceruleans were slaughtering the monsters. In the early morning sun, the Kergueleni aircraft fired down into the fray with precision, picking off zombies like snipers. The fog and smoke of the battle hung over the battlefield, and the view of other aircraft firing their purple-red lasers into the zombies seemed other-worldly.

Our craft floated above the battle for a while longer and then turned west toward the encampment. We touched down just west of where the locals had set up the original command tent. Regular Kergueleni naval forces, in their black and grey digital-pattern camouflage, were quickly setting up a camp to include several field hospitals.

Wounded biologic humans of all nationalities were being brought to the makeshift medical facility. The Kergueleni medics and doctors were processing wounded soldiers rapidly, applying what they officially called “bioplasmic goo” to the wounds. This paste of white blood cells, proteins, free lipids, platelets, and amino acids allowed for almost instantaneous healing of critical wounds: I even watched a man’s arm be tenuously reattached using a rapid surgical procedure and then slathered with copious amounts of the goo. Every patient who’d come in contact with the zombies’ blood or had been bitten was given an injection of hunter-killer nanobots to clear out the infection. The total time from when a patient arrived to when they were in a recovery bed was a matter of minutes.

But not everyone had survived the long night. The dead were laid out in rows in the camp, covered with sheets, or simply with their armored helmets placed over their lifeless faces. There were hundreds at first, and as the tide of the battle slowed, more and more were brought up the hill.

Rebekah and I returned to the command tent with General Skygard at our side. We introduced her to Major Christensen, Captain Holland, and Jonah. Everyone was initially very confused by her arrival and the arrival of her forces, but they all expressed gratitude. We might have still won the night without the Kergueleni, but at a much greater cost of life.

I’d been away from the command tent for hours, but the company commanders had controlled the battle at the practical level, and the command staff at the tent had led admirably. Our forces had now moved east and crossed the river on a counterattack, meeting up with and relieving the Ceruleans who were getting exhausted after hours of direct contact with the enemy behind their front line.

We started taking inventory of our losses, even as the last throes of the battle raged on. The “Freelanders” and Magic Valley locals had taken the most grievous losses of the night, with almost half of their number critically wounded or killed. The Californians had fared surprisingly well for biologic forces, with about one in every five killed and one in every five wounded. The Cascadian volunteers had taken substantial losses with just under a quarter killed, and many in need of repair. The enhanced-form bodies weren’t meant for direct action against the zombies, as the marshal had once said; as soon the CNS casing was cracked, death was all but assured. The Kergueleni had lost only two of their Cerulean Knights, with a few other “walking wounded” being treated at the field hospital.

The combined human forces had paid dearly for the defense of the valley, but by the time the sun had risen to midday, the last of the zombies had been obliterated. Kergueleni aircraft plucked dead and wounded humans and enhanced forms from the battlefield before setting the whole grassland ablaze with plasma bombs, trying to burn the pools of zombie blood in order to prevent a disease vector.

Initial contact with the zombie forces was reported by Colonel Kelly at Green River. A large contingent of Kergueleni soldiers and aircraft departed to augment those forces. Combat air and ground patrols were sent out to pick off the zombie stragglers all along the front ranges of the Rocky Mountains.

I contacted the orbital task force and requested that they direct their attention to the Green River area. As expected, the zombies there were fighting fiercely with the Californian scouts but, without the ULF broadcasts, they were no longer exhibiting any intelligence or coordinated efforts. Furthermore they were clustering on the east side of the river, setting up a perfect orbital strike.

I dialed up Marshal Burnham. The signal was relayed from my digibook to
Andromeda Rising
where it bounced to Luna and then to Mars via tachyon burst. The delay was noticeable and distracting as we spoke, but not impossible to carry on the conversation.

“Marshal,” I said upon seeing his face on the screen. “We’ve defeated over two hundred thousand zombies here at Highway Bridge. Our central forces are currently engaged with approximately one hundred fifty thousand zombies at Green River.”

I explained about the destruction of the ULF arrays and the instantaneous impact on the zombies. I described how the battle was devolving into one of attrition until the Kergueleni arrived and ensured victory. I described the coordinated tactics, the bravery, and the losses of all of our allies.

He sat there, slightly smiling at my good news. When I finished detailing my report, he spoke for the first time.

“Commander Faustus, I couldn’t be more pleased by your report,” he said proudly. “This is a great victory for humanity. The Senate has been debating a treaty with the Californians all night, and it seems that now we need to consider the locals and the Kergueleni as well. With their assistance and sacrifice, they’ve proven themselves worthy allies. For nearly four hundred years, we’ve not needed to maintain diplomatic relations with anyone outside our own people. Your leadership and cooperation with the outsiders is commended, and will be rewarded, I assure you.”

“I will relay all of this information personally to President Cohen and to the Senate,” he continued. “I’ll see you soon. Keep up the good work. You have the full faith, confidence, and assets of the Fleet at your disposal.”

He saluted on the screen with his fist to his chest, and I did the same, before the transmission ended.

“So what now?” Rebekah asked.

“We finish up at Green River,” I said, “then we pick up all the pieces.”

The Cascadians at Green River had given Colonel Kelly a digibook and we stayed in contact with him throughout the day. The Californian scouts and Kergueleni air forces had herded the zombie horde into a cluster on the east bank of the river. The swift, deep river had acted as a barrier to the horde’s movement, exactly as expected.
Andromeda’s
orbital strike decimated the horde in one blow, and then the Cascadian volunteers crossed the river in dropships, cleaning up the surviving zombies, before the Kergueleni air forces used plasma fire to purify the bloodied land. All told, the central front was a much cleaner victory, with relatively minor loss of life at only four hundred dead allied forces and an equal number of wounded. By evening, the Battle of Green River was over.

The next few days were spent in camp just south of Highway Bridge. The locals from Magic Valley made several trips out to thank us, to bring home-cooked food, and to help tend to the wounded. The Kergueleni medics even treated some of the sick and wounded locals who hadn’t been involved in the combat.

Rebekah went into town to visit her great aunt, Leah. I considered going with her, but coordinating the after-action logistics was even more difficult than coordinating the battle. It was a skill I wasn’t prepared for, so I called on some Fleet officers from
Halberd
to come down and help run the operation. Leading, I had learned, wasn’t about doing things, but rather surrounding myself with good people and trusting them to do things.

Halberd
had also sent down four warrior forms to guard one very important prisoner. Two of them stood guard outside the tent and two of them kept watch on him inside at all times.

I pushed open the flap to the tent and he smirked at me.