The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion Book 2) (5 page)

“I have at least twenty in pursuit,” he answered truthfully, and knew he was sealing his fate.

“Find a secure location and contact us for evac,” the woman on the other end answered without an iota of emotion in her voice.

“There’s no way I can shake these—”

Torran realized base had killed his comm connection when the wristlet went dark.

“Shit!”

Lungs and muscles burning, Torran surveyed the area ahead. The scorched remains of Inferi Scourge were in piles along the road along with bins filled with items salvaged from the bodies. The special ops unit had obviously cleared this area before the final push. If the Abscrags weren’t so close, he might have been able to hide among the bodies.

Footsteps of an Abscrag were directly behind him. Torran hoped it was only one closing the gap. Lifting his weapon, he came to a hard stop, letting the butt of the heavy duty firearm punch over his shoulder. There was a loud grunt as the Abscrag collided with his body. Torran’s weapon slammed into the face of his pursuer, knocking the Abscrag back. Pivoting about, Torran used his weapon as a shield to knock the his attacker completely away before firing at the head of a man he’d once had drinks with in an illegal pub. The creature fell at his feet.

Three more Abscrags closed in and Torran took a deep breath, aimed, and fired rapidly at the exposed faces of all three. More were coming and there was no time to strip the weapons or ammunition off the bodies if he were to keep ahead of them.

With nowhere else to go, he ran toward the subway station.

Chapter 5

The maintenance cart zoomed along the track and through the endless blackness. Lindsey fought against the suffocating fear the absolute dark inspired within her. It was far too easy to imagine the Inferi Scourge hiding in the murk, ready to seize her as she passed and drag her into the rough ground to infect her, but the sensors on her helmet only revealed the track unspooling through a long tunnel.

The dread twisting her insides made it difficult to not be overly imaginative. She didn’t seem to be the only one disquieted by the surroundings. The others with her had lapsed into nervous silence too.

Opening the comm to Petra, Lindsey queried, “What’s his status?”

Though Lindsey didn’t want to ponder the survival chances of the lone survivor outside the wall, she couldn’t help but do exactly that. To open the doors was a huge risk, not only to her small squad, but possibly the city.

“They’re leaving him to die,” Petra answered. She sounded like she was gritting her teeth. “All the SWD forces are concentrated on the areas visible to the news feeds. They’re putting on their big show. Vaja says there is a lot of concern about the squad wiping because of something they’re calling the Aberrations. SWD command is working on an idea to deal with the threat, but they’re calling the squad a loss.”

“So he ran into some of those Anomalies that Dr. Curran was talking about.”

“The soldier’s calling them Abscrags.”

Lindsey exhaled. Obviously the squad had known about the Inferi Boon that had gone bad and nicknamed them Abscrags. The word fit. “What are the commandant’s orders?”

“Vanguard, this is your call,” Commandant Pierce answered over the comm, surprising Lindsey. “You have a better read on the situation than I do.”

“Let me see his location.”

Vaja had already hacked The Bastion security grid to mask Lindsey and her squads’ whereabouts. It would be easy for him to locate the soldier on the run.

A new map fed onto her faceplate and showed the location of the soldier’s wristlet signal. His name glowed in green lettering over a glowing yellow dot: Master Seeker Torran MacDonald. The Abscrags also showed up on the screen as small red dots. The sight sent a chill down Lindsey’s spine. Red indicated a dead citizen. It was how The Bastion made sure to remove civilian corpses immediately after death for fear of the Inferi Scourge Virus becoming airborne and creating a new outbreak. Yet on her visual the red dots were in clear pursuit of the living person. The risen dead seeking to infect the living.

She shuddered.

Glancing toward the small screen on the console of the maintenance car, Lindsey saw that it was swiftly approaching the subway station. Calculating the distance to the station and the progress of MacDonald, she extrapolated that they could possibly make it out of the station and close the blast doors behind them before he reached the outer steps.

“We’ll help him,” Lindsey decided.

“You can’t bring him inside The Bastion, Vanguard. We can’t risk a possible infiltration by the Scrags,” Commandant Pierce replied.

“But we can kill the Scrags after him and give him a chance to find shelter.”

There was a pause. Then Pierce said, “Agreed.”

“What if he tells the SWD about the rescue?” Petra asked, her tone anxious.

“Master Seeker MacDonald used to be Constabulary,” Commandant Pierce said. “He’ll know to keep the rescue to himself. Good luck, Vanguard.”

“Petra, let the Master Seeker know we’re on our way,” Lindsey ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Petra said, then closed the comm link.

Switching over to talk to her people, Lindsey said, “We’re heading outside the blast doors on a rescue mission.

“Do we get to shoot something?” Franklin asked, excitedly leaning forward from the back seat. Then after a beat added, “Sir.”

“A whole lot of somethings. Hobbes, as soon as we hit the station, I’ll need a ride up to the doors. We need to be fast and outside before our party guests arrive. No flamethrowers. Setting them on fire is only going to jeopardize us. They used to be our people, so expect them to be in full armor. Aim for the spots where you don’t want to get hit.” Lindsey unclipped her flamethrower and handed it to Giacomi, who promptly stored it in the empty tool locker.

“Neck, underarms, and inner thighs,” Franklin muttered. “But it’s SWD armor. They probably have better protection.”

“Then get creative. We can do this,” Lindsey snapped. The sick feeling in her gut was only growing in intensity. Though she didn’t want to put any of her squad or herself at risk, there was no way in hell she was going to abandon one of their own like the damn SWD was clearly willing to do.

Hobbes grinned at her through the facemask of his helmet. For a second, he reminded her of Ryan, her long dead friend. Lindsey instantly regretted the comparison. She didn’t want to lose Hobbes just like she’d lost Ryan. It was hard enough that she was losing, Maria, her closest friend, and Dwayne, who’d been an ally over the last few hard months.

The maintenance cart slowed to a halt before the old platform. Hobbes leaped out as Lindsey edged off the cart. Giacomi and Franklin bounded onto the track, then ran toward the blast doors. Much to Lindsey’s embarrassment, she allowed Hobbes to toss her across his broad shoulders and sprint after the other two soldiers.

A second later, the blast doors started to slide open, the emergency lights embedded in the track flickering on. Just inside the growing opening was a dead Constabulary soldier.

Medic Michael Denman.

Giacomi and Franklin advanced on him warily until they saw the large wounds at the back of his head.

“Don’t move him,” Lindsey ordered. “We need to avoid any possibility of contamination.”

The two soldiers stepped around the dead body and eased onto the stairwell, weapons at the ready. Hobbes set Lindsey down and she rapidly lifted her weapon. It hurt like hell, but she left her cane behind. She’d limp and the pain would be terrible, but she’d be able to hold her own as long as they weren’t forced to run.

If that happened, she was as good as dead.

She wondered if the commandant now regretted sending her.

* * *

Torran’s muscles protested every step. Running across uneven terrain was far different from running on the treadmills in the SWD workout center. One misstep had driven a shock of pain through his joints and now his back ached. The humid air clogged his throat and made each breath feel like a gasp for air. To make matters worse, his armor had taken damage at some point and the coolers weren’t working, so he was beginning to overheat.

Of course the Abscrags following him were undeterred by such things. He could hear them closing in again.

Already, he’d stopped twice to thin the herd chasing him. The numbers of those hunting him weren’t diminishing, but swelling. It wasn’t only the undead members of his squad he had to worry about now, but regular Scrags, too. The long undead creatures rushed out of the dark to join their comrades in their mission to capture and infect him.

At least, Torran assumed they wanted to infect him. After seeing Reese eating Goodwin’s flesh and the awful remains of Cormier’s body, he wasn’t too sure anymore. The Inferi Scourge weren’t supposed to be cannibals, but carriers. Something had gone wrong and created the Abscrags.

There wasn’t a sign of Alkan and Reese yet, but he had no doubt they were in pursuit. He’d been fortunate enough to get a head start on the smartest and deadliest of the Abscrags, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep ahead.

Again Torran halted long enough to take down the nearest creatures. This time, his shots killed regular Scrags and just one of his former squad members. It was easier to slay the ones whose faces he didn’t recognize.

Sprinting, he saw the entrance to the subway looming ahead, a concrete structure with broken vid screens on the side facing the road. It was a gray block against the desolate landscape. Low barrier walls framed the exiting stairs.

Torran’s mind spewed out ideas: maybe he could climb on top and fire down at the Scrags; maybe he could take cover behind the low wall and kill all of them before the most dangerous Abscrags caught up: or maybe he should just save a bullet for himself.

His wristlet chimed and he swiftly swiped the screen.

“Master Seeker MacDonald, this is Commandant Pierce. Proceed to the subway station entrance. A Constabulary squad dispatched to the area will assist in eliminating the Inferi Scourge.”

“Yes, sir!”

Relief flooded him, though it was a shock to hear the voice of the highest-ranking officer in the Constabulary. The last time he’d seen the formidable commandant was when she’d pinned a medal on his chest before he retired.

“Once the situation is under control, you will wait for evac by the SWD.”

There was a hint of a warning in her voice that made it clear that something was irregular about the situation. Torran knew from his debriefing that none of the Constabulary forces were included in clearing of the valley, so the fact that grunts were in the area was probably unknown by the SWD command. If that was the case, it meant the commandant wanted him to keep his mouth shut. Considering that it was the Constabulary coming to his rescue and not the SWD, he had no problem complying with her wishes.

“Understood,” he answered, huffing along.

“Very well.”

The connection ended.

Dragging in deep breaths of humid, bitter air, Torran fired at a Scrag charging at him from behind one of the bins flanking the road. The bullets struck the gruesome creatures shoulder, but it didn’t falter. Snagging another clip from his bag, he ejected the spent one from his weapon with his other hand. The Scrag, a male with short dark hair and a thick gray beard, charged him again. Torran was just slamming the new clip home when a bullet sheared off the top of the Scrag’s head and sent the being spinning about before another bullet found its mark and killed it.

Whipping about, Torran saw four Constabulary soldiers positioned in the entrance of the subway station. The blast doors creaked closed behind them. One soldier stood close to the overgrown pathway, shooting any Scrag daring to emerge from the murky landscape.

On a second rush of adrenaline, Torran sprinted the last few meters to join the group. The tall one firing at the Scrags with impressive accuracy was a woman with very dark skin and dark eyes. She didn’t even glance at him as he leaped over the low wall and landed on the steps.

“Master Seeker, good to see you,” a woman with vanguard pips on her armor said with the flash of a smile behind her faceplate. Her voice sounded a little odd coming through the exterior speaker of her helmet and he detected one of the accents from the Isles.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you, sir,” he answered breathlessly.

“Approaching horde of indeterminate number arriving in two minutes,” a man said, then added to Torran, “You got a procession following you.”

“I could’ve done without the escort.” Torran slid his pack off and opened it so he could easily remove his last clips. Grabbing a pouch of water, he tore off the top and gulped it down. Torran spotted the nameplate on the commanding officer’s armor: Rooney. It explained the lilt in her voice.

“Give the situation status.” The woman in charge stared at him. The faint light from her helmet readouts illuminated her features, revealing a grim line to her full lips and incredible hazel eyes.

“The Abscrags...which are thinking Scrags—”

“I know what they are,” Vanguard Rooney interjected.

Torran regarded her in surprise. “Oh, well, they have electroshock rifles.”

“From a downed tiltrotor,” Rooney said with a nod.

“So
that’s
how they got them. When my squad split up to cover the area, the Abscrags used the rifles to immobilize them. Then they infected them.”

“One bite is all it takes,” Rooney muttered. “So even though they’re… Abscrags… they still want to infect?”

“Yeah, but for their own reasons. A soldier running with me took a hit from one of the rifles. I didn’t realize she was down until I took cover, and then I couldn’t get to her. One of the Abscrags took off her glove and bit into her hand.”