Wasteland Rules: Die Fighting (The World After Book 4) (23 page)

September 16, 2029

   The limo dropped them off at the Market early the
next morning. Sterling had informed their hosts his girlfriend wanted to do
some shopping before they left. Derek had been given his gun back as they left
the hotel and was warned to keep a close eye on his boss in the Market. He
nodded and laughed to himself. If they only knew how little danger the three of
them were in from people in the Market. It was everyone else that wanted them
dead.

   They had quickly returned to the motel and
reclaimed their belongings. Derek geared up while Sterling and Rora changed
into more practical clothes. He slung the LAW over his shoulder and pulled on
the grenade pouch. The grenade launcher would be his primary weapon for this
fight. Maximum damage and confusion was the key here. Derek checked his weapons
one last time before they reviewed the plan.

   “Are you sure the distractions are on their way?”
Derek asked.

   “They will be.” Sterling said confidently. “They
should get here just as the auction starts.”

   “And you and Rora will use the confusion as cover
to grab the core?” Derek continued.

   “Yes. Everyone should be focused on the distractions
and staying alive.” Sterling assured him. “We’ll grab the core and link up with
you. You need to enter as soon as the distractions arrive.”

   “Assuming they don’t come directly for me, I’ll be
there.” Derek agreed.

   “Just stay out of sight until they arrive.” Sterling
advised.

   “Why didn’t I think of that?” Derek replied
sarcastically. “I think I can handle myself.”

   “Of course.” Sterling said soothingly. “You can
also watch on the phone. I will have a hidden camera in these glasses.”

   “If you get into trouble, stay put and I will come
for you.” Derek instructed.

   “All right, let’s do this.” Sterling said firmly.

   As they walked out into the Market, Derek put on a
hat and sunglasses to provide some protection against being recognized. While Sterling
and Rora approached the main building where the auction was being held, Derek
took up a position nearby. He found a good vantage point next to a large stall
where he could see the building and surrounding area, but was still somewhat
hidden. He stashed Rora and Sterling’s bags there, then pulled out the phone
and waited.

   Watching on the phone, Derek could see Sterling and
Rora enter the building and pass through security. There were at least a dozen
guards behind sandbagged machine gun positions outside, backed up by several
technicals, and another half dozen inside. Derek also noticed snipers on the
roof as well as militiamen with RPGs. They weren’t taking any chances since
last night’s events.

   The two left security and moved into a large room
that looked like it had once been a briefing room. A small stage stood along
the wall at the center, opposite of the entrance. A large podium had been set
up on the stage and there were several chairs behind it. A number of objects
sat on tables in front of the stage. They must be the other things up for
auction before the core.

   Most of the other buyers were there and the Voice
provided popups identifying who they were and pertinent details about them. The
tall, thin man in the cowboy hat and bolo tie was Justin Forsman, a powerful
Senator from the N.R.T. He was known to be a shrewd negotiator and a very
clever politician. He was widely regarded as the power behind the President. He
was flanked by two burly Texas Rangers. The intense look on his normally
relaxed face indicated he knew things were going to go badly.

   On the other side of the room from the Texas
Senator was Juan Contreras, the Aztlan “ambassador” to Wichita. He was staring
daggers at Senator Forsman and the Voice noted that he blamed Forsman for the
assassination attempt on him that killed his son and daughter. He was
surrounded by four bodyguards who were all also staring at the Texas
delegation.

  Sitting with him was the G-21 representative, Craig
Jimenez. The former gang member was one of the Imperator’s closest advisors and
friends. He was also one of the main points of contact between Aztlan and G-21.
He was known to be a quiet man, but vicious if angered. He only had one
bodyguard that Derek assumed to be a Praetorian. Jimenez was the only man there
that looked relaxed and almost bored. Obviously he knew the score and didn’t
care, he had only come to mingle and network. Derek noticed he occasionally
chatted with the man on the other side of Contreras.

   Interestingly; it was General Lucas, resplendent in
his uniform smothered in medals he hadn’t earned, who was sitting next to the
Aztlan “ambassador”. The two looked somewhat cozy and that did not bode well
for the N.R.T. The time was coming when they would have to pick a side or be
wiped out. The General looked as evil as ever with his sharp beak of a nose and
the imperious sneer on his face. He constantly looked around the room with his
piercing eyes, looking for any threats. He and Derek had never met face to
face, but the general was responsible for the mission that cost Derek his job
and caused his exile. Four Red Berets, in uniform, stood guard around the
general.

   Next to him was the self-styled “der Fuhrer”,
Joseph Wessel, the detestable man who presided over the Order. He was puffed up
with self-importance which made him look more ridiculous than usual. The German
SS style black uniform didn’t help either. He had a dolled up woman on his arm
and two Black Shirts guarding him. With any luck, the man would catch a stray
bullet in the coming chaos. But it was very concerning that the Order also seemed
to be cozying up to the U.S.T.G.

   General Lucas seemed to holding court with the
sycophants from the smaller factions. Undoubtedly they all wanted weapons and
vehicles to help maintain their grip on power. It was what they might be
willing to give up in exchange that worried Derek. If Aztlan and the Order did
ally publicly with the U.S.T.G. that posed a direct threat to the C.C.A. and
the N.R.T. At the very least it gave the U.S.T.G. bases from which to attack
them.

   Colonel Barry Nygard sat apart from the others near
the back. He was the C.C.A. representative and was guarded by three capable
looking men in insignia less uniforms. Derek assumed them to be military
intelligence or Special Forces. The Colonel looked nervous; he probably knew
they were going to lose the auction. That and he probably also had an idea the
U.S.T.G. was going to make a move on Wichita and he was worried about getting
out.

   The war had been going badly for the C.C.A. and
government forces were driving on Nashville. If the N.R.T. didn’t join in with
the C.C.A. then they would probably be overwhelmed sometime early next year.
The U.S.T.G. just had too many troops and many more tanks, helicopters, and
planes. The data on the core would only give them a greater technological edge.
Derek didn’t doubt that once Nashville fell, many of the Patricians would
withdraw their support from the C.C.A. and beg to join the U.S.T.G. That would
allow them to keep some of their status and wealth. The rich were always in it
for themselves. The Collapse and the Aftermath hadn’t changed that.

   The rest of the buyers were rich dilettantes from
Vegas and various freeholds throughout the wasteland. None of them were of any
import and the Voice couldn’t even get much background on some of them. They
were a relatively young bunch, many probably getting wealthy after the
Collapse. It was even possible one or two were Raider chieftains or Slaver
bosses. They were here for the party and to bid on the other auction items.

   Derek watched everyone settle and then Byron
Brightman came to the podium. He was a distinguished looking black man of
average height with graying hair. He was well dressed in a fancy suit and tie
with expensive shoes. Derek was always impressed at how people managed to find
such nice clothes and keep them in such good condition in the World After. It
definitely spoke to their privilege.

   “I want to welcome all of our distinguished buyers
to the Wichita and our private auction. We are so glad you could join us. There
will be refreshments after the auction so please stick around to congratulate
our winning bidders. We have some rare and unusual items today so don’t hold
back on your bidding.” The Junk Trader said to a chorus of laughs. “Please be
courteous and follow the rules of the auction. Good luck.”

   Brightman stepped down and the auctioneer took his
place. Derek zoned out as they bid on a series of artifacts and rare weapons.
The smaller buyers snapped those up while the main factions waited anxiously
for the main event. They were only there for the core; nothing else was of
value to them. As the auction wound on Derek watched the time tick away. He was
starting to doze off when he noticed a lot of activity around the edge of the Market
nearest to the main building.

   Dozens of the young men and women who Derek had noted
previously, had begun to congregate in small groups of approximately squad
size. He could see they had weapons concealed under their bags and had put on
body armor under their clothes. He smiled to himself and crouched down further
to make himself even harder to spot. Things were about to kick off, hopefully
the distraction would arrive in time to make a difference.

   Almost immediately he heard the sound of
approaching choppers and he was surprised they had gotten to Wichita so
quickly. They must have either been nearby or ready to leave when they had
gotten the word. But then he realized that the sounds were coming from the
north and not the south. He risked a glance to see what was going on and saw a
fleet of helicopters approaching from the north.

   A black Apache gunship led several black Huey
gunships, followed by a mass of Chinook transport choppers. This was not who Derek
was expecting; another player was entering the game. The choppers swooped in
low as y and blew apart stalls and shredded shoppers and vendors. Fires started
from the explosions and quickly spread. The choppers relentless hunted down the
screaming masses and gunned them down in cold blood. Derek could only think of
one person who would order such slaughter, Deimos. It looked like the Faceless
were making a play for the core also.

   The guards in the control tower opened fire on the
attacking choppers taking one out, but a volley of rockets blasted the tower to
pieces. Technicals parked around the Market were primary targets and were taken
out quickly by the second volley of rockets, leaving smoking ruins. The
militiamen patrolling the Market tried to fight back but they were hampered by
the screaming crowds trying to escape and most were cut down by the gunships.

   The Red Berets had taken casualties initially, but
they had gotten over their early surprise and were fighting back. There were
even more of them throughout the Market than Derek had realized and a couple
had shoulder launched SAMs. One of the Huey gunships went down in a ball of
fire before the others levelled the section of the Market the missile had come
from. More missiles streaked up and a transport chopper went down as well.

   The transport choppers immediately landed and the
monstrous troops of the Faceless poured out with bloodlust in their eyes. Derek
ran towards the main building as the beastly soldiers began massacring everyone
in their path. The Red Berets joined with the few remaining militia in the Market
to try to stop them. Furious fighting erupted all through the Market with
bullets and grenades flying all around. The sounds of gunfire and explosions
drowned out even the screaming. Fires burned rampantly throughout the Market
and smoke began to cover the ground. The heat, fire, swirling smoke, and
screams gave the once bustling Market a hellish and nightmarish appearance.

   During the initial assault the guards at the main building
had held their positions, but the screams for help from their friends in the Market
were too much to ignore. Half of them abandoned their posts and rushed into the
Market. They ignored Derek as he passed through them; they were so focused on
the attackers. He wasn’t shooting at them, and his attire could pass for that
of a militiaman. This was not the distraction he had anticipated, but he would
make the best of it.

   He glanced at the phone to see what was happening
inside. The picture was shaking about wildly and Derek could tell that Sterling
was being jostled around. From what he could see there was a brawl inside the
auction room. The Aztlan and U.S.T.G. bodyguards were fighting with the N.R.T.
and C.C.A. bodyguards and Brightman’s guards were attempting to break it up.
The other buyers had fled, trying to escape the brawl and whatever was going on
outside.

   Derek waited for them to come spilling out the
front door before he tried to get in. Dealing with the fleeing buyers and the
chaos outside, the guards didn’t notice Derek force his way through the crowd
into the building. He saw more militia in technicals arrive and join the
fighting just as he entered. The battle in the Market was fierce and was only
going to get more intense as more militiamen arrived to join the fight. The Red
Berets outside the city wouldn’t be far behind and the current free for all
would end in a massive bloodbath and probably the complete destruction of the Market.

   Hopefully, they would be long gone before then.
Derek followed the path Sterling and Rora had taken to reach the auction room.
Only one guard attempted to stop Derek, the others had been so panicked that
they had ignored him. He smashed that guard in the face with the butt of the
grenade launcher, knocking the man out cold. There was no time to finish him
off and Derek wasn’t going to draw attention by firing the launcher. Instead he
rushed into the auction room.