Wasteland Rules: Die Fighting (The World After Book 4) (2 page)

   The remaining troops exited the caves, a couple nursing
minor wounds; and a few being carried by their fellow soldiers. They loaded the
wounded men into one of the transport choppers and it took off. That chopper
quickly gained altitude and headed northwest. The gunships didn’t follow, they
began to made wider and wider circles around the visitor center. The remaining
Faceless troops spread out and entered the buildings.

   “They’re searching for us.” Derek murmured. “We
need to go.”

   “But they will spot us if we move.” Micah argued.
“We should stay put.”

   “They will spot us eventually and then the gunships
will cut us to pieces.” Derek insisted. “We have to move. They probably have
infrared sensors and if they haven’t spotted us by the time the sun drops we
will become very obvious when it gets cooler.”

   “They don’t need to wait until night for that to
work. Our body heat is still higher than the ground.” Rora pointed out.

   “Time to go then.” Derek ordered. “Lead the way
Micah.”

   They waited until the gunships were at their
furthest points and made a mad dash into the deeper woods. Someone must have
spotted them because the choppers suddenly veered in their direction and the
troops swarmed out of the park buildings. The black clad soldiers raced after
them, running at full speed. Neither the gunships nor the soldiers opened fire,
which meant the Faceless wanted at least one of them alive.

   “Run!” Derek yelled. “The deeper we get the more
protection from the gunships.”

   The three of them sprinted through the woods; dead
branches pulling at them, thorn bushes scratching them, and fallen limbs
threatening to trip them up. Miraculously, none of them fell and they were able
to follow Micah into the denser part of the woods. Behind them, they could hear
the Faceless soldiers crashing through the brush in hot pursuit. Those sounds
grew fainter as Micah was able to lead them through faster than the Faceless,
who were unfamiliar with the terrain, could follow.

   Derek heard the gunships pass overhead, but they
were deep into the woods now. The dead trees reached over a hundred feet up
into the sky and effectively blocked any direct attacks. So he was surprised
when they heard the distinctive sound of rockets being fired ahead of them.
Explosions shook the ground as the attacks struck home.

   “What are they firing at?” Rora asked in confusion.

   “Maybe your guys?” Derek asked Micah.

   “No, they are long gone by now. We have a rally
point well away from here to link back up.” He replied as they continued to run
through the woods.

   The answer became obvious shortly. Ahead of them
Derek could see the flicker of flames and it wasn’t long before he smelled
smoke. Within a minute, the blaze became visible. The flames grew quickly and
began ripping through the dried out and dead trees. He could hear the gunships
above them using the wind from their propellers to fan the flames.

   The fire spread in all directions and became a
living wall of flame that blocked their path. The gunships had very cleverly
created a barrier to prevent Derek, Rora, and Micah from escaping. It was
spreading quickly and they were forced to head back towards their pursuers. The
black, oily smoke soon overran them and the air became so thick with it that it
was almost impossible to breathe or see where you were going. The heat became unbearable
as the fire closed in on them.

   They held cloths over their mouths and struggled to
find a path out. Micah led them down into a ravine where a small creek ran
through. The lower elevation was below the smoke and they had a few moments to
catch their breath and rest for a moment. Standing in the water they were safe
from the flames for a moment, but Derek knew that just the superheated air from
the fire nearby could kill them.

   “Down the stream.” He urged them. “We have to get
out of here. The fire is going to burn out of control and consume this whole
area.”

   Micah and Rora did as he said and they all began
slogging through the creek as they headed downstream.  The smoke hung over
their head like a ceiling and Derek could tell it was getting lower and lower.
The air itself was starting to warm up and it wouldn’t be long before it became
difficult to breathe. They needed to be out of the fire zone as quickly as
possible, but the dried out forest was spreading quickly. Their best bet was to
get out of the woods and into the open even though that would expose them to
the gunships.

   He caught a flicker of movement from the hills
above them just before the gunfire started. Derek knocked Rora down and yelled
to Micah. All three splashed down into the creek as bullets chewed up the water
in front of them. Black clad Faceless appeared in the woods above and behind
them. All of them were wearing some sort of breathing mask enabling them to
operate inside the smoke. More gunmen joined the first few and they kept a
steady fire on their three targets. Amazingly none of the three were hit
despite the high volume of fire.

   “How haven’t they hit us yet?” Micah yelled to
Derek.

   “They aren’t trying to hit us. They want us alive.”
Derek explained through gritted teeth. “They just need to keep us pinned down
until we are overcome by the smoke and heat and then they can just drag us away
without a fight.”

   “So what do we do?” Rora asked desperately, her
face a sooty wet mess.

   “You run, I’m going to buy you some time.” Derek
said grimly. “I think they want me and will let you go.”

   “But…” Micah started.

   “Just go!” Derek ordered urgently.

   Micah took one look into Derek’s eyes and nodded.
Derek popped up and charged upstream into the hail of gunfire. As he ran he opened
fire on the closest Faceless soldier. The quick burst hit the man’s breathing
mask and shattered it. The gunmen crumpled to the ground. Derek didn’t pause
after firing that burst and slowly turned to fire three more bursts. Each burst
struck a black clad gunman and dropped him. The sudden action froze the
Faceless troops and Derek took advantage to reload before continuing to fire.

   Caught off guard by the reckless and unexpected
maneuver, the Faceless soldiers gave Rora and Micah the few precious seconds they
needed to rush downstream and out of range. Derek continued to charge forward
and exchange fire with their pursuers. The increasing smoke and the black
uniforms gave them a ghost like quality as they flickered between trees trying
to find cover from the surprise assault. They overcame their surprise after a
moment and returned fire with a vengeance.

   Bullets struck Derek, but his armor deflected a few
and the others were minor wounds that he shrugged off. Cinders fell on him and
burned his flesh, but he ignored the pain. The smoke and super-heated seared
his lungs but he simply pushed on. His adrenaline was pumping and he was
totally in his element. He reloaded as he ran and then put on a burst of speed
and exploded out of the creek. A few steps and he was amongst the gunmen. During
the entire rush he never stopped firing and each burst dropped another
Faceless. He was so focused and hyper alert that he just couldn’t miss.

   His clip ran dry and he dropped the carbine to pull
out his machete. The carbine’s sling caught the gun as it fell and it dangled
at his side as he slashed around him with the machete. The smoke was so thick
that Derek couldn’t see what he was hitting, but he could feel impacts that he
assumed were gunmen so he kept slashing. After a minute the adrenaline started
to wear off and he realized he was hacking at a tree trunk.

   Then the pain hit and he began choking on the thick
black smoke. Dropping to his knees he found a brief respite below the hanging
smoke and sucked in huge lungfuls of fresh air. Looking along the ground level
he spotted the remains of a fallen Faceless. The man had dissolved but his gear
was still intact. Derek crawled and over to the remains and got lucky. The
breathing mask was intact. He quickly pulled it on and immediately got more
relief from the hot, smoky air.

    Tossing his own camouflage jacket he pulled the
Faceless’ BDU jacket on, ignoring the slimy goo inside that had once been a
man, and quickly slipped the body armor and helmet on. Hopefully he could pass
for a Faceless long enough to get out of the fire zone and get to safety. The
ruse seemed to work as he made his way through the burning woods. Thick smoke
obscured his view, but he could see the shapes of Faceless troops moving nearby.
None of them seemed to react to him, so he assumed he was safe.

   Based on the radio chatter from the radio in the
helmet, Derek hadn’t killed as many as he thought in his mad rush. Many of the
men he had shot or slashed were merely wounded or badly bruised, and they were
back in the hunt. It was hard to tell, because they all sounded the same, but
he counted at least fifteen different nicknames. They had been caught off guard
by his sudden and ferocious charge, but now they were regrouping.

   It sounded as if Rora and Micah had escaped, and
the Faceless were more determined than ever to catch Derek. That just
reaffirmed his belief that he was the target all along. He was almost out of
the woods when he heard an alarming order to change tactical frequencies.
Unable to do so since he had no idea how their radios worked, he was suddenly
cut off from the chatter. That probably meant that they had figured out he was
wearing their gear. Time to make a run for it.

   Bursting out of the woods, Derek headed towards
where the smoke started to thin out. He hoped he could get clear and find some
better cover. Eventually Rora and Micah would be able to call for help and the
C.C.A. would send some planes to drive off the choppers. All he had to do was
survive until that happened.

   That proved to be a pipe dream as the smoke
suddenly cleared away from around him, blown off by the prop wash of a
descending gunship. Derek found himself almost face to face with the multiple
barrels of a mini-gun. He turned to run, but black clad gunmen appeared from
the smoke like wraiths and clubbed him unconscious with their rifle butts.

Faceless Headquarters

September 12, 2029

   It took Tom a minute to realize that the blinding
light in his eyes was not the gateway to the afterlife, but a powerful arc
light. He tried to move but found himself secured to what appeared to be an
operating table. As his eyes adjusted and he looked around, he could see he was
in an operating room surrounded by white clad people wearing surgical masks.

   The former Red beret captain had no idea where he
was. The last thing he remembered was the razor sharp teeth and claws of the
Drinkers ripping at his flesh, tearing him apart and eating him alive in the
cave. That bastard Storm and the girl had left him to die so he could escape.
Storm had given him a knife and uncuffed him, but they had known he had no
chance of surviving. That act of supposed compassion had only been to make
Storm feel better about himself.

   Deep down Tom knew he would have done the same, but
that didn’t stop the uncontrolled rage he felt when thinking about Storm
leaving him to die. Against all odds he had survived, that meant there was
still a chance at revenge. Still a chance he could leave Storm broken and
humbled. All he had to do was get free of these restraints and go after him.

   Tom tried to struggle free but his limbs didn’t
respond. The attempt did trigger frantic beeping from the monitors nearby.
Several of the masked doctors moved over to check on him. They whispered
amongst themselves and then one left. Tom could move his head slightly but
nothing else worked. Was it possible he was paralyzed? He desperately hoped
not, that was one his deepest fears.

   He waited, helpless, to see what they were going to
do to him. After a few minutes another person entered the room and approached
the table.

   “Glad to see you are still with us.” The man said
in a sibilant voice.

   Tom’s eyes widened as he took in the speaker. The
man didn’t wear a surgical mask or scrubs, but that wasn’t what stood out the
most. It was the fact that he didn’t have a face. There was no mouth, even
though the man was speaking, no ears, no nose, no eyes, it was totally blank.
It was as if a mannequin head had been implanted on top of a man’s neck. Tom
should have been more bothered, but the last six months had been so crazy that
this really didn’t faze him.

   “What do you want?” Tom croaked.

   “It’s more a matter of what you want.” The faceless
man informed him. “Do you want a chance to get even with Derek Storm?”

   “More than anything in the world.” Tom agreed
vigorously.

   “You’re body was more or less destroyed by the
Drinkers. “ The man explained. “We have a nerve block in your neck to prevent
you from feeling the pain from your exposed nerves. We cannot fix you with
conventional medicine. But…”

   “But what?” Tom asked desperately.

   “We have a serum we can use to alter your DNA. It
will allow your body to regrow itself, but there are side effects.” The
faceless man offered.

   “Like what?” Tom demanded.

   “Your body will undergo physical changes and you
will not look like you used to. But you will be bigger and stronger and faster,
and you will have the ability to heal from serious wounds.”

   “Something like what Storm has?” Tom asked eagerly.

   “Something like that.” The man agreed. “The process
itself will be very painful. We will have to remove the nerve block and there
will be no anesthesia. The pain alone may kill you.”

   “I can take it.” Tom insisted angrily. “Whatever it
takes to get Storm!”

   “Hold onto that hatred. It might be the only thing
you have to get you through it.” The faceless man said as he turned to leave.

   He nodded to one of the doctors and they moved
towards Tom’s table. A rubber mouthpiece was shoved in his mouth and Tom felt a
doctor at his neck remove something. Within a few minutes he began to feel the
pain. It started as a few pinpricks, then it moved to thousands of stabbing
needles, and then it became a white hot flame that seemed to burn along the nerves
themselves. He screamed in agony as it reached a crescendo. He seemed to
dissociate from his body as the pain became overwhelming. White light started
to creep in from the edges of his vision and it wasn’t from the operating room
lights.

    Alarms began beeping on the equipment, and Tom
heard a doctor yell that they were losing him. That triggered something deep
inside him, in the primordial part of his brain. He began to claw his way to
reality, fighting the lights, focusing on his hatred for Storm and how much he
wanted to live just to spite the man. The alarms slowly subsided and he could
feel the pain begin to recede. It slowly faded to nothingness and he started to
relax, trying to regain his breathing.

   “That was just the beginning.” He heard the
faceless man murmur. “Now the true test begins.”

   New pain wracked Tom’s body. Adrenaline surged
throughout him and he flexed against the restraints, his body bending awkwardly
against them. He could literally feel the skin closing over and healing, and
nerves and blood vessels rebuilding themselves. Then the true pain hit him as
his bones themselves began to grow and stretch. He screamed as the pain touched
every inch of his body, inside and out.

   The pain was so intense he began to black out, but
Tom remained focused on his hate for Derek Storm and fought it back. The pain
lasted for what seemed like an eternity before it began to be replaced with a
sense of euphoria. Then he felt a sense of power and his body entered another
stage of the process. Muscles bulged as they grew to obscene proportions, some
in places he never had muscles before. The restraints snapped as he began to
metamorphose and his body grew suddenly at an alarming rate.

   Tom burst free with a bestial roar. The doctors
fled in terror, but one didn’t move fast enough and Tom grabbed him. In a fit
of rage he tore the man apart and flung his wrecked body to the side. He was
not sure why he was angry, but he was filled with uncontrolled rage. Panting
like an animal, Tom looked for more victims, his bloodlust not sated. Finding
no other victims he destroyed the operating room, smashing everything he could
find. Finally, his rage subsided and he began to become aware of his
surroundings.

   Spying his reflection in a metal tray, he moved in
for a closer look. What he saw startled him. His handsome features had been
replaced by bestial ones. He now had thick cheekbones and heavy brows. Fangs
poked out from beneath his newly thick lips. Thick black hair, like fur,
covered his head and parts of his face. His nose was much large and flattened
against his face. His skin was leathery and had a slight brown tinge. He looked
like a monster.

   “What did you do to me?” Tom growled.

   “I gave you what you wanted.” The faceless man said
from behind him. “I made you a killing machine capable of taking out Derek
Storm.”

   “I’m a monster.” Tom argued.

   “No. You are your true self.” The faceless man said
smoothly. “This is what has lurked inside you for your entire life. Now the
surface matches your personality.”

   Tom knew instinctively that what the man said was
true. And did it matter what he looked like? He now had the ability to finally
make Storm pay. He looked over his new body and flexed his muscles
appreciatively. His new body stood over seven feet tall and was thickly
muscled. His massive hands seemed capable of crushing anything. The thick cords
of muscles up his neck gave him a hulking and intimidating appearance. His new
appearance would strike terror into the hearts of any who saw him.

   “Tom is gone now.” The man explained. “You are
reborn. Now you are Deimos, the living embodiment of terror.”

   That somehow felt right to him. He was no longer
Tom, he was Deimos. And now people were going to pay for all the things they
did that wronged him, starting with Storm and his little protégé.

   “Come with me.” The faceless man offered. “Let’s
get you outfitted.”

   Deimos suddenly realized he was naked as the man
with no face turned and walked out of the room. Shrugging, he followed behind. As
they walked he noticed the faceless man was wearing a blue pinstripe suit with
a white shirt and red tie. Just like almost every politician he had ever met.
That didn’t bode particularly well. Those politicians had betrayed the former
captain’s loyalty and thrown him to the wolves when it suited them.

   The man with no face led him into another room that
looked like an armory. Weapons lined the walls and crates of weapons and ammo
were stacked in the middle. Deimos smiled ferally as he saw the body armor and
mask on a stand in the center of the room. A pair of katanas poked up from
sheaths on the back of the armor.

   The body armor looked like it was made of cast
steel painted shiny black with gold highlights over a black body suit. There
was a metal chest and back plate, shoulder pads, gauntlets, and greaves which
covered from ankle to knee. On the chest plate was a symbol in gold that looked
like two stylized arrows pointing inward and touching at the tips. It was not a
symbol that he had ever seen before.  Wicked looking spikes jutted up from
various points on the armor giving it a menacing look. The mask was also
painted a flat black with gold highlights and only covered the eye and forehead
area, leaving his fangs on display.

   “These are yours; they have been waiting for you.”
The faceless man announced. “The armor is special composite plates over Kevlar.
The plates can stop up to a 20mm cannon round and are resistant to armor
piercing rounds. The Kevlar is heavier than the usual body armor and can stop
up to a 12.7mm machine gun round.”

   The former Red Beret captain started pulling them
on and found it all fit perfectly, as if it had been custom fit just for him.
But how could they have known his size when he hadn’t even had the treatment
when these were made? He pulled on the mask and it felt right. Instinctively he
reached back and grasped the hilts of the katanas. He drew them with a flourish
and took a few practice swings.

   To his surprise he found them perfectly balanced
for him and he executed a few attack moves. He had never had any sword training
but somehow he knew exactly how to wield them. Like it was a muscle memory he
didn’t know he had. Let Storm try to kill him with his machete now. Deimos
would carve that bastard into ribbons. He chuckled to himself as he slashed at
the air.

   Deimos whirled suddenly and brought his blades down
towards the faceless man. They stopped a hairs breadth from either side of his
throat, but the man didn’t even flinch. Deimos was impressed, despite his
terrifying appearance and deadly threat, the man was perfectly calm and
unafraid.

   “Carbide steel.” The man informed him calmly.
“Virtually unbreakable and they will hold their edge forever. Beautiful work
don’t you think?”

   “Who are you?” Deimos snarled. “And what do you
want from me?”

   “I am the Faceless Man. The leader of an ancient
secret society dedicated to the downfall of civilization.” The man explained.
“And all I want from you is to do what you were born to do. Create terror and
chaos wherever you go.”

   A week ago Deimos, then Tom, would have sneered at
the man. The downfall of civilization? Tom had fought to regain it under the
auspices of the U.S.T.G. But now he saw the folly in that. What had it gotten
him? Nothing but pain and suffering, ingratitude, and ultimately betrayal. Now
it was time to make the world pay, to make it burn, and to force everyone to
watch.

   The Faceless Man watched Deimos accept his role,
and even embrace it. “I have one more present for you.” He informed Deimos as
he gestured to another part of the armory.

  Deimos smiled as he saw the gift. Oh yes, that would
be perfect. He knew just what to do with it. Time to get started on his
payback.

   “Grab that and then I have some friends I want you
to meet.” The Faceless Man told him.