RATH - Redemption (6 page)

Although only having been near enough once, Sarah recognized the purposeful strides. The expensive leather soles against the hardened concrete floors were unmistakable. Growing closer, now three sets of footfalls moving toward her cell, Emerson Boothe, flanked by two of his henchmen, was coming for her.

“Lauren, this is it. If you want to live another five minutes, you need to pull yourself together RIGHT NOW! No more outbursts and whatever they tell you to do, you do it. I’d love to help you, but the way your acting, it seems like you want to die. Your little girl needs you. Stand up straight and follow my lead.”

The key in the lock, the door opened and the well-dressed psychopath entered the room. “Hello Sarah…good news, you and your friend here are coming with us. One last meal, a good night’s sleep and then first thing in the morning, we board the cruiser heading to our new home. Barring any unforeseen problems, our dive begins in exactly twelve hours.”

.      .      .

The air much warmer and the night darker than he remembered, Rath watched the drone lift off and head back in the direction it had come. He stood on the corner of what was once the busiest intersection in town, Grand Avenue and Baker Street. The remnants from three decades before were still evident, even through the thick blanket of frozen death that had fallen over the city. Hundreds of vehicles were left to rust and die by the masses, as they fled the overpopulated areas first. Windowless high-rise monoliths, whose interior spot fires offered the city’s only illumination, were now saturated with the absurdly overgrown foliage from years gone by. He stepped into the street and stood atop an overturned police cruiser. “Listen up.”

Thirty-three men, along with their hand-made weapons, were cocked and prepared to fight for the survival of the human race. Symon stepped out in front and spoke first. “These men have trained long and hard for this day. The day we all knew was coming and is now here.” The intensity and volume in his voice growing with each passing word, he continued, “This city, the Andros that occupy it, and most importantly Emerson Boothe should be worried; they should be the ones to fear US! Benjamin Rath, these men are ready…Let’s do this.”

Nodding his head in agreement and as the men readied their weapons, Rath laid out the plan. “Gentlemen, we have some work to do tonight and as you already know, it’s not going to be a walk in the park. Our best shot at success is through the element of surprise, whether it be with the horde we’re about to face…or beyond that, Emerson Boothe and his men. Staying in the shadows will serve us well. Only engage when absolutely necessary and stay together, every man for himself has no place in this battle.”

Turning his attention to Symon, he noticed his backpack lying near a fallen streetlamp. Symon reached down, pulled both the stun baton and the lead pipe from the pack and held them out toward Rath. “What’s it going to be, manual or automatic?”

Instinctively he chose the three-foot section of lead, the weapon he’d used to dispatch hundreds of Andros in past years and the only thing he trusted to work in each and every circumstance. “I think you know my choice,” Rath said as he left the stun baton for Symon. “Just remember what you told me. That thing only has a few charges in it before it shuts down.”

“Yeah,” Symon said. “I got it.”

Jumping from the patrol car to the street and kicking up a fine mist of powder in the process, Rath motioned toward the interior of the city. “Symon, I’ll take the left side of the street, you and yours head up the right side. Two raps against the concrete if there’s any trouble. Remember… quick, low, and out of sight. Let’s go.”

The men broke off one at a time, sixteen with Rath and the others following closely behind Symon. They moved as one unit and not a sound could be heard but the pulsing winds and the icy flakes falling to their final destination. Moving along the ground level buildings and eyeing the interiors, the spot fires had little to do with the supposed destruction of the city. These were the homes of their mortal enemies and as one day moved into the next, hundreds and possibly thousands of Andros were beginning to stir.

By the time they’d gone six blocks, the man bringing up the rear in Symon’s group had witnessed no less than sixty of the monsters they were trying to avoid, each ready to wake from the daytime slumber the Andros were known for. He moved quickly to the front of the group and upon reaching Symon, sensed he too had seen their odds for survival quickly diminishing. He whispered, “This isn’t good, those things are about to wake up and we’re not even halfway. We’re not going to make it out the other end and it’s too late to go back.”

Symon knew the man was right, although he asked him to fall back in line and watch the rear. Raising his head above the line of dated vehicles, he noticed Rath may have come to the same realization, left the sidewalk in favor of the street, and was heading toward him.

Turning back, Symon slowed his group and pointed to the street just in time to see the first of three Andros exit through the shattered remains of what was once the city’s largest bank. He struck the baton against the open sidewalk and as Rath turned toward the noise, so did the beastly trio.

Before he turned and moved into the snow covered street, Symon nodded to his men and quietly said, “Run.” Rath had done the same for his men and as the group of thirty-six moved together as one through the dimly lit night, the three Andros began their call of hunger.

Although only a small sampling of the much larger population, their voices carried to every last crevice of the post-apocalyptic city. Within seconds, the three became twelve and the twelve grew to fifty and by the time they reached the end of the next block, they were pursued by hundreds.

In a dead out sprint and searching for an answer, Rath turned to Symon and pointed sixty yards ahead and to the right. Both men nearing exhaustion, Rath eyed the only building he’d seen that was void of light. “There,” he said.

“What, they’ll catch us before we—”

“Just go,” Rath said, “It’s the only chance we have…they’ve spotted us from the south as well.”

He was right; another group had moved out of the southern end of the city. Their numbers not quite keeping pace with the rising horde thirty seconds behind, although if his instincts were correct, he feared that may have just awoken the Arkuss.

In the hierarchy of the Andros subset, the Arkuss were at the top of the food chain and often slaughtered the more vulnerable to assure the rank and file remembered their proper place. Their actions were often so deplorable that many of their own kind avoided this area like the menacing plague this group had become.

Increasing his pace as did the others, Rath reached the door to the former Department of Water and Power only seconds before the two groups of Andros closed in. Rushing everyone inside, he shouted. “I need one man to stay behind with me and bring a few of the larger, timed explosives. The rest of you, follow him.” Motioning for Symon, he said, “Take them down the service stairwell. The last landing leads into the sewer system. You’ll follow it south for a mile or so to where it ends on the beach.”

Rath took what he needed and handed Symon two of the remaining handheld explosives. “One for the cage leading into the sewer and the other one…well just in case.”

Symon started for the stairs, although he stopped immediately and turned back. “Wait, how on earth do you know this city so well?”

“My mother used to work in this building.”

Thirty-one men followed Symon through the doors and down the four flights of stairs. The immense iron gate leading into the city’s sewer system had long since been opened and pushed aside. Even though he was able to spare having to use one of the handheld explosives, he didn’t like what this represented, Andros coming and going through the area meant they’d likely encounter more than a few of the hungry animals on their trek to the ocean.

Motioning for two of the men with makeshift torches to lead the way, Symon fell back into the middle of the pack. He located the three men who’d taken from the drone at least a dozen handguns and enough ammunition to level a small village. “I’m not too sure these tunnels are the safest way out of the city. Pass out the weapons and make sure we’re covered, front and rear. I want status reports every five minutes, now go.”

Thirty seconds into the city’s underground highway, the first explosion came, its shockwave so great it nearly toppled many in the group. The six-inch river of sludge running underfoot held the remnants of the thirty plus years without proper attention and as the temperature rose, a few of the men even removed layers of clothes, wrapping them around their mouths and noses in an attempt to stave off the ridiculously offensive odor. As they marched on, a few were overcome and ended up losing what little nourishment remained in their system.

.      .      .

Giant slabs of granite, shards of glass, and a thick cloud of obliterated concrete fell down around them. The fireball was much less ferocious than he’d expected for the number of Andros they’d blown out of the building and back into the street. Rath stepped into the stairwell and led the way as his younger and more agile comrade stayed within two steps. Reaching the last landing and moving into the fourteen-foot tunnel, Rath paused. “Wait,” he said. “Roll forward the timer to fifteen seconds and go find the others. I’ll set it and catch up to you.”

“Are you planning on waiting for those things to start down the stairs before you set it?”

“What’s your name son?”

The timer set, he handed the explosive to Rath and turned to look in the direction the others had gone. “My name is Ryan, but what are you—”

“Ryan, thanks for your assistance, I’ve got it from here. Get going and don’t stop until you reach the group, and be sure to stay in the main tunnel. We’re not too far behind the others, maybe a minute or two. I’m gonna see if I can’t close this place off for good. A fifteen second head start should be plenty, now go.” Rath shook the younger man’s hand and turned to watch him jog into the darkness.

As the sound of rapid footfalls against the wet pavement faded into the distance, Rath calmed his breathing, slowly closed the massive iron gate, and set the explosive along the rusted out hinge. Finding a place to sit, he readied himself. First his right and then his left, he cinched down the laces of his black leather, steel-reinforced boots and flinched as the stairwell above shook.

They were here, less than thirty seconds away. Hundreds of the ravenous beasts that called this city home had already begun to close the gap. Moving forward as a tidal wave of brutality, they clawed their way over and around their fallen brothers and sisters, all with the intention of getting their first fresh kill in weeks. He stood, moved to the gate and closed his eyes. His only thoughts were of Sarah and what it would take to see her standing near the ocean at the end of this tunnel.

Although a longshot, he hoped that the device he was about to trigger would give him and the others even the most brief of advantages. The thunder from the stairwell moving toward him at a breakneck pace, Rath keyed the execute button on the explosive, only to have the readout go dark. Under his breath he muttered, “Are you kidding me?”

With a closed fist he bashed the unit and then again and then for a third time… nothing. He removed it from the gate and threw it across the landing, onto the bottom stair ten feet away. The unit rolled onto its side and the readout facing toward him flickered to life. It read eight seconds to detonation.

As the first Andro rounded the railing between the final two floors, Rath was already in a dead sprint, moving in the opposite direction. He forced himself to avoid the mental countdown, knowing it was wasted energy and instead focused on pushing his body as far from the impact zone as possible. One foot in front of the other and attempting to stay upright, he managed to avoid the rancid sewage and arbitrary debris, believing for a moment that he’d outrun the danger.

As if time stopped and started again in fast-forward, he felt the heat on his neck and hands before his mind registered the sound. Bright orange and yellow streaks moved into his field of vision shortly before he was lifted off his feet and thrown twenty yards deeper into the tunnel. Sliding face first through the ankle-high sewer water, Rath came to rest near a smaller angled tunnel that turned and moved off to the left.

All external sounds now muted, a faint hum rose in his ears as he pushed himself out of the filth. Standing, he winced and instinctively pulled back his left arm. Removing his scorched jacket and a long sleeved t-shirt, the injury was evident.

The third degree burns along the back of his neck and hands took a back seat to the pain radiating from his left wrist up into the elbow. The skin remained intact, although the broken bones in his forearm were pushing upward and sitting just below the surface. He thought, “
Well… this is about to get interesting
.”

Quickly tying his jacket into a sling, he grabbed his pack and as the dust began to settle, he peered backward into the tunnel. Pulling his pipe from his pack, he held it out in front of him and started forward once again. With no signs of life in either direction, and not liking his chances to defend himself with only one functioning arm, he quickened his pace.

The further into the tunnel he moved, the less debris he ran across, although the stench appeared to be magnified with each step he took. His gag reflex kicked in just as he spotted something illuminated in the distance. He attempted to speak, although before his body would allow it, he was bent forward and releasing the contents of his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he vomited and between the ceasing of his abdominal muscles, he said to himself, “I guess that shower wouldn’t have done much good.”

Pulling himself together, Rath squinted through the flickering light ahead. Within a hundred feet he could hear voices and recognized them as the men from his team. At fifty feet, he could hear shouts and within twenty, the screams of agony.

Symon rushed out of the group of men and motioned for Rath to come forward. The screams coming from thirty feet ahead grew and then quickly silenced. “Hurry up; they aren’t giving us another minute.”

“Whadda ya mean, who won’t—”

“There’s no time,” Symon said. “They’re torturing them.”

Anxious and confused, the men shuffled backward as they made a path through the crowd and reaching the last man, Symon pointed into the distance. The scene was unlike anything he’d yet laid his eyes on. Six Andros, four males and two females were the largest he’d ever come across. All standing nearly eight feet tall and the women covered head to toe in blood, the Andros had exterminated four of Rath’s men in full view of the others. Their limbs torn off one at a time, they all suffered an excruciating death.

Turning to Symon, Rath said, “What the hell happened, why aren’t you running?”

The larger of the two female Andros moved forward. She was obviously one of the members of the Arkuss and from the way she stepped out of line and in front of the others, most likely The Master. She stepped over the dismembered bodies toward Rath and from ten feet away, locked eyes. Turning to Symon she asked, “Is this him?”

“What is this,” Rath said.

Symon stepped to the side and turned to Rath. “They’re asking for you.”