Rise of the Huskers (The Raven Falconer Chronicles) (15 page)

“The chief wants you to attack,” Lou said, a telltale grin lifting the corners of his mouth.

“What does he think we’re doing?”  The huge man didn’t answer but the grin broadened to a wide smile, telling the smaller native all he needed to know.  “He’s kidding, right?” Trevor petitioned, his plea not changing Lou’s countenance.  “Great, and where is Darwin?” he asked, sarcastically.

“Careful,
Arcand.  It’s not going to take much convincing to just drill you right here, right now.”

“Hey, hey . . . settle down.  He wants us to charge their location?  That about it?”
Ponyrider asked, glaring at Trevor with a look that said,
shut up.
  “Okay, we,” he said, glancing over at his friend, “can handle this side but who’ll lead those behind the inn?”

“Yeah,
somebody’ll have to run back there and coordinate the attack,” the skinny, dark-eyed man countered.

“Listen, you two idiots, in five minutes move out, cover and fire, until you get inside the inn.  Bust out a few windows to gain access.  They won’t have enough to cover all the rooms and once you’re inside . . . raise hell.”

The two younger men nodded their understanding and watched Louis pivot to leave.

“Louis, hold up,”
Ponyrider shouted.  “What about prisoners?”

“What prisoners?” he bellowed, as he careened down the steps, taking them two or three at a time.  A moment later, the seven-foot Goliath lumbered across Banff Ave and swung around to attack the inn from the north, totally unprepared for what would befall him and his warriors.

Firefly-like flashes of light, followed by the reverberation of sound waves rebounding off Nathan’s Huskers, first stopped, and then energized the band.  They grunted and marched down the middle of Banff’s main street, hundreds of virally manipulated adults, hungry and thirsting for the satisfaction of the hunt and kill.  The Husker leader sensed there would be no stopping his ravenous band, not tonight, not after he’d seen them assault and kill the siblings.  The savage lot would be edgy and uncontrollable until violence had quenched their aggression and they’d gorged themselves on fresh meat.

The horde walked on, unafraid, the sights and noise awakening within them the need for a murderous rampage, the way sultry music heightens lust and desire.  Two blocks from the source of the display, the Huskers saw dozens of people run from the south side of the road.  The movement stimulated a predator-prey response among the cannibalistic clan, launching them forward at a dead-run, anxious to overtake their quarry.

Nathan swung the small hatchet over his head and shouted, “Move . . . move . . . move,” as the tide of living-dead washed passed him.  He surveyed the spectacle, also driven to act, but alert enough to pick the circumstance under which he’d secure a victim.  Out of nowhere, the roar of an engine caught his attention and turned his head.  A red and white pickup blasted down the narrow street to his left, racing into the ruckus.  Something about the movement and acceleration engaged the Husker leader, compelling him to sprint across a small park and into the roadway behind the speeding truck.  The axe pumped up and down with each stride of his powerful legs until two red lights shimmered through the darkness and the vehicle skidded to a stop.  Edwards knelt and watched, biding his time, blocking out everything but the man seated behind the wheel.

Officer Nowicki joined his troops on the rooftop
, just in time to see Lou dodge his way across the road and disappear from sight, beyond the next building over.  “They’re up to something.  They wouldn’t have that gorilla . . . ”  Zygmunt suddenly realized what was coming and issued his orders.  “Rave, get downstairs.  They’re going to rush the inn!  They’ll soon be inside if we can’t stop them.  Make sure everybody’s ready.”  She stared at him, a quizzical look in her eye.  “Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you.  Now go!”  He shifted to Willie Daniels and pointed to the north side of the building.  “Get over there and reinforce that wall.  That giant will try to punch through back there.  Hannah, you and Bobi have got to use those AK’s to slow ‘em down.”

“We’ve got it,” Hannah replied, never moving away from her position on the wall.

“Good, I’m counting on you.  Put a fresh mag in now – and let ‘em have it.”

The volume of gunfire suddenly escalated, rounds ripping into the berm that was protecting the rooftop defenders.  “That’d be their calling card.  Duck and fire, girls,” Ziggy screamed, as he dashed to the stairs, his carbine swinging freely in his fist.  The definitive concussion of the AK-47’s assured him the roommates were s
ending a hail of lead into the charging native ranks but it was the out-of-place yelp of the little Egyptian that stopped him in his tracks.  “Huskers!” she cried.  “Hundreds of them!”

Nowicki hurried to the barrier and looked to the west. 
Sure enough, Huskers – too many to hold off. 
The rooftop defenders continued to rain down spinning lead on Darwin’s charging force, killing some and scattering others to the north and south of the inn.  However, many made it and were smashing windows and trying to gain access, when the rolling sea of insatiable Huskers swarmed them.  Their attention and gunfire was immediately wheeled away from the inn and to the accursed horde.  All thoughts of a grand plan, and the realization of a vision for their people vanished, as the true battle for Banff’s control ensued on the streets surrounding the fortified structure.

Trevor
Arcand, Ponyrider and a handful of GAW Braves pressed to gain entrance at the main doors but they found themselves surrounded: Nowicki and his crew just beyond their reach inside the inn, Huskers blocking all avenues of escape to their rear, and Darwin, likely watching and ready to extract a price for failure.  Firing pointblank at the locked door, the black-faced assailants stepped inside and sealed themselves away from the bloodthirsty Huskers, but only temporarily, as sentries shot and shattered windows and doors over the intruder’s heads.  Trevor and his friends fired in every possible direction to free themselves from the predicament.  Reloading, they blasted through magazines in seconds, emptying their weapons to create a limited buffer zone where they could plot an exit strategy.

On the roof Ziggy screamed, “Alamo – Alamo – Alamo,” the word previously established as the fallback and evade signal.  Men and women ran from their positions near the raised berm, leaving two sentries, motionless and dead.  The bodies did not go unnoticed by the officer, who understood the subtle head shake from Willie, as he passed him on the way to the basement and their escape.  “No one get’s left behind.  When everyone’s in the garage we’ll move out,” he continued to shou
t, above the sounds of the melee taking place all around them.

“Hannah, get Mick and the kids,” Nowicki said, grabbing her arm, before he plunged down the steps.  Echoing up the stairwell
, muzzle blasts carried from the lower levels, telling a tale of death and loss on the floors below.  Ziggy bounded from one step to the next, his carbine poised at his shoulder and ready to fire.

“Yeah, Bobi, come on,” Hannah yelled, spinning to run down the hallway where she knew Mick would be.  At the door, she banged the butt of the rifle against the barrier.  “Mick, it’s Hannah . . . Alamo!  We’re moving out!”  The door suddenly opened and Mick stepped outside.

“To the basement?” the teacher confirmed.  A second later the young mother, holding the four-year-old, scurried from the hotel room and moved toward the stairs.  The women continued the call for retreat, shouting ‘Alamo’ and banging on doors.

“Ziggy just went down these.  They should be clear,” Hannah shouted.  A handful of town’s people responded to the fearful cry and left their rooms, joining the small band maneuvering the stairway.  Yelps of pain and distress were everywhere.  So many that it was unclear from whom or where they were originating.  On the main floor Zygmunt knelt in the doorway, his rifle smoking and two dead bodies nearby on the carpet, a native and a Husker.

“Where’s Rave, Ziggy?  Where’s Raven?” Mick exclaimed, an unmistakable panic rising in her voice.

“I’ll find her and meet you in the basement.  Get the trucks running and be ready to roll out.”

Mick leaned over the crouching officer, squeezed his muscular shoulder and said, “You’ve got to find Rave.  I can’t leave here without her.”  He glanced back at her for a second and responded with a quick nod, before he bolted away, running along the main hallway.

“Alamo – Alamo,” he shouted, but the opening of a door to his left, 10 meters ahead, stopped him.  The carbine was immediately brought to his shoulder and he fired a quick couple of rounds into a pair of Huskers. The ferocious duo had taken their rage out on a lone tribesman, who lay dead behind them.  Ziggy rushed to pass them, picking his feet up, well above the corpses, to avoid touching their blood-covered bodies.  “Raven,” he yelled, straining to hear above the chaos and confusion.

At the end of the hallway the RCMP officer could see a skirmish being fought for control of the inn’s main entry point.  Darwin’s men had managed to crash through the barricade and were exchanging gunfire with the half dozen defenders, including Raven Falconer, trying to hold them back.  However, the few GAW attackers were fighting a two-front campaign, as Huskers pressed to gain access, striving to overwhelm and then consume their prey.

Ziggy slammed a full clip into the underbelly of his A1 Carbine and unleashed a fury of hot lead into the flank of the attacking
, native men.  Realizing what was happening; Trevor, Ponyrider and the remaining GAW members hedged their chances with the poorly armed Huskers and fled the entrance, leaving a path of wounded and dying cannibals in their wake.  “Alamo, get to the basement – now,” Nowicki screamed, joining the others in a mad dash for the stairs and the vehicles below.  Within seconds the foyer and hallways were overrun with Huskers, chasing down the straggling survivors and tearing at their flesh.  Raven and the officer held their ground for an instant, firing into a never ending mass of fiends, dropping the lead few but not stopping their pursuit.

“Your turn, Rave.  I’m right behind you,” he hollered, pulling a stun grenade from his belt and lobbing it toward the swarm.  He quickly repeated the ploy, detonating the pair of devices
, in hopes it would give them the seconds they needed to flee the inn.  Moments later they emerged into the concrete underbelly of the hotel and scampered for a running police cruiser.

“Where are the rest?
” Bobi shouted, concerned only half of those who had begun the fight were with them.

“This is it!  The Huskers have overrun the inn.  There won’t be anyone else.  We need to move out.”

Eli sat in the cab of the pickup, stunned at what he was seeing before him.  The inn, where he suspected Raven and company to be, was under siege
, but not by Huskers, rather by some heavily armed brigade.  He hesitated to rush into the engagement; an axe would be useless against an opponent with an assault rifle. 
What can I do?
  Unexpectedly, in the very furthest reach of the truck’s headlights, a giant of a man was alerted to his presence and turned away from the hotel, charging into the lights.  Eli panicked, seeing the behemoth raise his weapon, diminishing his chances of rescuing his daughter.  The gunshot never came; instead a tidal wave of Huskers swept from a nearby alley and attacked Lou and his companions.

Raven’s father was transfixed, unable to move or take his eyes from the spectacle.  Men and women dispersed, some firing at the advancing gang of mindless beings, while others crashed through the inn’s windows as a possible place of safety.  The large man stood his ground, shooting his rifle with one hand and tossing Huskers aside with the other, creating a fraction of time for his troops to get away.  Eli watched the melee, feeling somewhat safe in the enclosed cab, but still overcome with need to reach out and help his daughter and her friends.  The close combat, and in many cases hand-to-hand, life-and-death struggle, continued for minutes, both sides taking losses.

Suddenly, a conical beam of focused light broke through the darkness, quickly followed by a huge truck barreling over fallen figures and knocking combatants out of its way.  Several other vehicles emerged from the belly of the inn and sped up the ramp, dodging bodies in a desperate attempt to escape.  They veered to the right, driving east, away from Eli’s position.  The convoy’s departure prompted Falconer to action as he dropped the Ford into gear and rocked forward.  It was then than he felt something, a vibration, like hitting a pothole.  He looked into the rearview mirror but could see nothing behind him that would hamper his pursuit of the fleeing vehicles.

“Where’d they come from?” Chief Gladue yelled, when Trevor and a dozen weary
, but alive, Braves trudged to a stop in front of him.

“We had no choice – too many, couldn’t stop them,” Trevor said, panting to catch his breath.

Darwin looked beyond the little band and questioned, “Where’s Lou?”

Ponyrider
and Arcand shifted uneasily before the chief.  It was Ponyrider who finally answered.  “He was at the back of the inn.  We don’t know how many got out alive.”  Gunshots still rang out from well down the street, but were diminishing, as Huskers settled in to ravage and consume their spoils.

“Get to the trucks, we’ve got to find Lou,” Darwin ordered, whipping his pistol from its holster and flicking the safety off. 
Ponyrider, you drive.  Trevor, take the rest and stop that RCMP officer, I want him alive, but dead would be almost as satisfying.  Capture the rest, I will not leave Banff without some form of retribution!”

Four vehicles scrambled from the roadside where they’d been parked, far from the conflict; two rushed to the inn with armed assailants firing indiscriminately
at human targets.  Huskers were hit and fell as Darwin, in the lead SUV, rushed to the rear of the structure, finding none of his people still standing.  They punched it to the end of the street but the hulking native was nowhere to be found.  “Turn around.  He’s got to be alive.  Follow this road until it merges with Banff Ave.  There’s not a Husker alive that can take Lou down.”

They drove on, looking for signs of Darwin’s friend, but could see none.  For Darwin, a true sense of loss was abruptly replaced with shock, when a swiftly moving pickup roared up behind them and gently nudged their bumper.  A man
, riding on the rear window’s frame, nearly fell out but caught himself and shouted to the others, “It’s Lou.  He’s behind us.  Looks like he’s stolen himself a new truck.”  Darwin stuck his weapon out the window and fired a single shot into the air, waving for the other vehicles to follow him.  His chances of ending the night’s score in his favor miraculously just got much better.

A few kilometers away, Trevor sat in a black SUV in the burrow pit parallel to Highway 1.  The other vehicle idled next to his, ready to deliver a decisive blow to the fleeing convoy as they endeavored to pass by. 
Arcand had carefully thought it through.  The officer’s stream of trucks had left the inn, frantically making a dash for the eastern onramp to the freeway, taking them significantly longer to acquire the four-lane blacktop, but also avoiding the mass of Huskers, who blocked the access to the west.  Now, with the battle at a lull, the two vehicles, loaded with GAW troops, had easily skirted the Huskers and were positioned to intercept the officer.  It was perfect, really, and there was no chance Nowicki’s people would try to go east to Canmore or Calgary.  Any foray in that direction would pit them against more GAW men and women, and the cop knew it.

The instructions from Officer Nowicki had been clear, as Willie and his wife remembered them.  “Go east until you hook up with Banff Ave, follow it until you reach the freeway.  Don’t stop for anything or anybody.  Take the freeway west and we’ll hook up near Lake Louise.  You might be on your own if
trouble arises, but keep going until you’re safely away.”  Willie drove like a madman, pushing the big truck to the highway and a possible getaway.  The lights reflecting off his mirror told him a string of friends was close behind.

Ziggy was quiet, thinking deeply about the way his plan had gone sideways and the tremend
ous loss of life.  Raven, sitting next to him in the police cruiser, held Pooch on her lap.  She laid a knowing hand on the back of his neck but remained silent.  Bobi wept quietly, her head leaning heavily against Hannah’s shoulder.  The dental assistant stared through the car’s side window, rarely blinking, a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that they were not out of the woods – not yet.

The convoy merged onto the westbound lane of Highway 1
, and traveled unhampered, down the barren roadway.  Their lights cut a swath through the dense blackness, creating an overwhelming feeling of tunnel vision for the vehicles and their passengers.  To their right, they passed the small Banff airport, which lay hidden from the highway by rows of tall spruce trees.  Another few kilometers and they’d be free of Banff, with only open highway between them and the lake.

Eli had pulled within a few car lengths of the last vehicle; hopeful Raven was among the convoy’s occupants.  He continued to monitor his rear mirror for lights but it appeared they were in the clear and were not being followed.  “Maybe we’ve made it,” he said to the cat, which had ignored most of the excitement, turning its attention to the mouse.

With each passing meter, the beleaguered survivors breathed a bit more easily, recognizing escape was all but imminent.  From the darkness, hope was about to be shattered as Trevor and his cohorts prepared to act.  Arcand would take the first vehicle, slowing the entire convoy and the second would target the last, boxing them in with no place to run.

For those who were paying attention, in particular Wi
llie and Ziggy, lights suddenly appeared at the side of the road, shooting into the treetops until they leveled out, revealing two large SUV’s, which darted into the convoy’s path.  Willie swerved to avoid the first, narrowly missing the black Suburban, and sped away, but the RCMP cruiser, with Ziggy at the helm, was not as fortunate, slamming sideways into Trevor’s vehicle.  The remainder of the procession weaved their way around the wreckage but did not stop, as per Nowicki’s orders.  A second later, Trevor’s man targeted the Ford F-150 and drove his grill into the side of the red pickup.  The impact shifted the truck sideways, bringing it to the edge of the asphalt where it lazily rolled once, twice, then came to rest on all four wheels.  Though shaken, Eli remained alert and able to move.  He slid over the seat and climbed out the passenger window, unsure where the cat had gone but more concerned about the police cruiser’s occupants.  Before he started up the slick embankment he remembered, and then retrieved the double-edged axe from the trucks cab.