The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion Book 2) (21 page)

“You need to drag me out of here before I find something else to fret over,” she said to him.

“Sleeping over?” he asked escorting her to the door.

“I want a hot shower, sex, and several hours of blissful sleep snuggled into your side,” she answered.

“Yeah. So demanding.” He playfully ruffled her hair.

“You’re the one who said hello on the bridge that day. This is all
your
fault.”

“You didn’t have to say yes to my invitation to a walk.”

“You didn’t have to say yes to my invitation to hot sex.”

“Yes I did. Otherwise I’d be certifiably mad.”

Lindsey laughed as the door opened. “Well, don’t you know? We’re all mad here.”

“Ah, a Louis Carroll quote. Another reason to tolerate you.”

Together, they left the training room.

Chapter 20

“Scrag concentration around the food depot is higher than reported,” the pilot’s voice said through the comm unit.

“Scoggins, direct the feed to my screens,” Lindsey responded.

The tiltrotor shuddered as the aircraft sluiced through the wind gusts billowing before an oncoming storm front. The aerial drones had already been recalled to the tiltrotor due to the harsh weather. The small aircraft were unable to fly in the bad conditions and were now attached to the tiltrotor’s outer hull like insects. The screens on Lindsey’s console altered with the new data streamed from the long-range sensors. They weren’t as clear as they fresh feeds from the aerial drones, but they would have to do.

Again, the tiltrotor rocked. A few of the soldiers strapped into the seats in rows behind her let out agonized grunts. The flight over the mountains had been difficult and treacherous. A few times, Lindsey had been convinced the tiltrotor was about to be smashed into the summits. The pilot had done an amazing job -- considering the bad weather conditions and the fact she’d only flown an actual aircraft a handful of times -- and ferried them safely over the mountain range. Now the tiltrotor rushed over a thick, green forest toward the towers of Beta City in the distance.

The chief defender sat at her own console across the aisle, while Torran sat directly behind Solomon communicating with the cargo aircraft that was trailing twenty minutes behind the tiltrotor and just about to crest the mountains. The workstations received intel from not only the tiltrotor, but Beta City sensors being activated by the pulses being sent out by the Bastion. Torran and Lindsey quickly evaluated the information, then transmitted the vital details to the chief defender for her review.

Again, the tiltrotor hit a pocket of rough air and pitched to one side. Lindsey glanced at Dr. Curran at the Med Console. The blond woman was intently watching the vitals of the soldiers under her care. Curious, Lindsey examined the incoming information from the Med-Con transmitted to her screen. Dr. Curran had the suits administering anti-nausea medication to most of the squad. Each suit was outfitted with med packs with small dosages of various types of medication -- such as antihistamines, anti-nausea and pain relief -- that were administered when needed. Lindsey noted that neither she nor Torran required a dose, but the chief defender did. For some reason she found that amusing.

“The Scrags have definitely shifted,” Lindsey said into the comm. “Evaluating the situation now.”

The mob of undead had moved closer to the front of the complex, and Lindsey wondered why. Had the aerial drones caught their attention? The relocation of the mob actually worked to their benefit. A lower concentration of Scrags near the likely breach point in the rear of the complex would possibly buy them a little more time. She sent the updated information to the chief defender with her suggestion to alter their approach in order to avoid pulling the mob toward the rear of the complex. Several seconds later, Solomon gave the order to tweak the flight plan.

The cameras from the exterior of the tiltrotor continued to feed data to her screens, while Lindsey struggled to not be distracted at the vastness of the land spread out below them. The forest was broken by small bodies of water, pastures, and crumbling towns. The world appeared to stretch out forever in every direction. It was awe-inspiring. For so long, her world had been a single city in an isolated valley. She wished the tiltrotor had windows so she could peer out and see the panorama with her own eyes. Instead, she watched through the electronic eyes of the cameras.

There had been some discussion about having a reporter embedded with the squad, but the idea had been scrubbed. Also, a media remote camera had been eliminated as an option. Lindsey was glad. If the citizens of The Bastion saw what she was witnessing, their unrest would only grow. How could she ever return to the gray world of The Bastion after seeing such beauty?

Her gaze shifted to the footage of the Scrags, and her reverie was over.

It was a beautiful and incredibly deadly world.

“We’re on final approach,” Scoggins announced.

“Get ready to deploy,” Torran ordered.

Lindsey swiped the feed onto her wristlet and unfastened the straps on her chair. As the tiltrotor descended, the rear door opened as the ramp extended.

“Make this fast and smooth,” Chief Defender Solomon commanded, making her way past the squad rising to disembark.

Dr. Curran also stood and gripped the handhold overhead. Her gaze met Lindsey’s briefly, and her expression was difficult to discern. Lindsey wondered if Dr. Curran resented having to go on missions not associated with her quest to reclaim Maria as a lab rat. The thought brought a smile to Lindsey’s face. Dr. Curran gave her a questioning look, then turned away.

A blast of air struck the soldiers as the exit widened and the tiltrotor hovered over the roof of the food depot. The squad dropped a few feet onto a catwalk that stretched along the length of the building and past two towers that were the tops of granaries. The steel and black exterior was covered in a thick layer of grime. Years of weathering had eroded some of the protective paint, allowing spots of rust to form.

Lindsey tugged the mask of her stealth suit over her head, claimed her weapon, and followed the others out. The stealth suits looked very different in the direct morning light. The sunshine added an odd shimmer to the dark gray fabric. The feed in Lindsey’s helmet revealed that everything was going as planned so far. Behind Lindsey, two squad members pulled a long tube out of the undercarriage of the tiltrotor while two aerial drones dispatched and skimmed along the roof to peer over the edges to scan the perimeter.

“You know what to do. Let’s make this fast and painless. I don’t want any deviations from the plan. No sightseeing. This has to be fast, people. We have two cargo transports in route, and we need to be ready for them,” Chief Defender Solomon instructed before leading the squad along the catwalk in the direction of the stairwell that would deposit them near the loading doors.

A rumble in the sky jerked Lindsey’s attention upward. The storm was moving in much faster than anticipated. Hopefully they’d be done and out of the area before it hit in full force. Moving swiftly past two rooftop entrances into the food depot, Lindsey was relieved that the doors were secured. There’d been some discussion about descending through the roof and sweeping through the upper floors of the depot, but the plan was deemed too much of a risk. Final reports from the depot had indicated there was an outbreak inside the building. At last, it was agreed that the main storage area would be easier to enter via the loading dock doors. Also, it would give the squad only one area to clear instead of the entire building.

The food depot was three stories high, taller than most of the structures around it. The evacuation center to the east was a modified airport. The main building appeared to be in decent condition, but the landing pads and surrounding field were filled with Scrags. The approach of the tiltrotor had been masked by the wind blowing away from the Scrags, but some creatures along the edges of the crowd had witnessed the arrival of the team and were rousing out of their stupor. Meanwhile, to the west, the Scrags that had clogged the streets awakened as the tiltrotor flew over. The undead streamed toward the food depot.

The wind buffeted the squad as they sprinted across the rooftop. The stealth suit helmets were more like hoods with a flexible faceplate, and when another strong gale hit the squad, Lindsey grunted as her visor smacked into her nose. The suits had worked fine in the training room, but now Lindsey wondered if they were suitable for the missions. She was beginning to long for her Constabulary armor even if it was old and clunky. The suits didn’t have an oxygen system like the regular armor and the air filters tucked into the sides of the hood only fed them fresh air. The smell of rot and ozone drifted through the filters. That wasn’t particularly comforting. She’d rather smell the stale air of recycled oxygen in her old suit.

Running with the squad, Lindsey kept an eye on those carrying the stealth curtain. It was a bit bulky, but she was glad it had been made in time for their departure. It would hopefully deceive the Scrags and postpone them breaching the fences.

The Scrags filled the area between the old warehouses and equipment storage depots. Air gusts carried away their terrifying screeches, but the noise was loud enough to tease along the edges of Lindsey’s hearing.

“There’s so many,” Hobbes said in awe.

“The world is filled with them,” Torran answered sadly.

An aerial drone skipped alongside the squad, bobbing on the choppy air currents. When the soldiers reached the platform above the loading dock, the drone flew ahead, its long legs extending to catch the rail of the catwalk and perch where it could capture the static image that would display on the curtain.

So far, everything was going as planned, which both elated and terrified Lindsey. If things were going this well, did that mean they would succeed, or was it just a setup for a catastrophic failure? It was hard to believe in good things when so much had gone wrong.

Franklin swept past Lindsey, peering at the Scrags through her weapon scope. “They’re getting rowdier.”

“That crowd isn’t the one we need to worry about. It’s that one.” Lindsey pointed toward the Scrags located in the rear of the complex that had yet to fully register their arrival.

Sweeping her weapon toward the Scrags clustered in the back, Franklin scowled. “They’re quiet for now.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Lindsey replied.

Reaching the catwalk, the squad separated to allow the soldiers hauling the screen through to the railing. It only took a few seconds to secure the enormous piece of fabric and unfurl it. Lindsey and Torran stepped to the rail, peered down, and exchanged looks. The projection of the closed doors flicked on, matching the area behind it.

“It looks good,” Torran said approvingly.

“Let’s go,” Chief Defender Solomon ordered.

The metal lattice fastened to the frame of the stairway hid the soldiers from the eyes of the undead creatures, but the pounding of footfalls against the metal steps of the stairwell rattled Lindsey’s nerves. Thankfully, they were far enough from the Scrags that the wind carried away the sound.

Arriving at the concrete pad before the loading doors, Lindsey checked the status of the departing tiltrotor. Yates, one of the squad members, hurried to use a key-hacker on the doors. Another soldier, Carter, carrying a small remote generator on his back, joined her. The generator would produce a wave of energy that would power the doors and lights temporarily.

“How’s your eagle eye view?” Lindsey asked Scoggins after switching over her comm.

“Main activity continues to be on the west side, but more have arrived from the north. They have yet to reach the fence, but are closing in,” the pilot answered.

“Keep me informed.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lindsey updated the chief defender and Torran over their dedicated channel.

Solomon looked pensive at the news. “How soon before the Scrags hit the fences?”

“Within five minutes, but that’s within our anticipated parameters,” Lindsey replied.

“We’re on schedule,” Torran added.

Examining the heavy curtain obscuring the squad from the view of the Scrags, the chief defender said, “This screen seems to be working.”

Lindsey studied her readouts. “Agreed. Aerial drones are showing no significant movement among the Scrag crowd near the possible break point.”

“We do have unexpected trouble along the northeast side. They’re against the retaining wall,” Torran said, his tone turning grim.

“Show me,” the chief defender ordered.

Torran passed along the drone information to both women.

Lindsey tabbed through the images being transmitted by the drones by clicking on her wristlet that was linked into her hood’s screen. There was a massive amount of Scrags up against the wall that separated the complex from another warehouse, and it was already showing signs of stress. Blood sprayed into the air as those Scrags unlucky enough to be up against the concrete barrier were squished like ticks.

“How does the data affect our mission time?” the chief defender asked.

Lindsey ran a quick calculation in her head, not bothering with the suit’s tech. Again her mind sifted through the miniscule details, revealing the important bits in a simplistic tapestry. “Four minutes less than estimated.”