He threw the trunk open and handed out the weapons. A large plasma rifle each, and a pistol. Jimmy clutched his single pistol close.
“Turn the power up to full,” Tommy said. “Something tells me we’re going to need it to get through this thing’s hull.”
The weapons hummed, and Tommy felt vibrations in both hands. A finger of fear trailed up his spine. Just what kind of devastation were these weapons capable of?
Tommy led them behind a small barn. Out in the middle of the sticks like this, it could only be used to house machinery and farm equipment. It was a modern building with cameras perched on each corner.
The Sphere rolled over the next field, crushing the mutilated crops that’d already been wreaked by the undead army’s stamping feet.
“When the Sphere passes, we’ll have our best shot,” Tommy said. “Aim for dead center. That’s where Hawk said the Architect is. Fire, and keep on firing. That thing is the equivalent of a tank. Take out the driver, and all this will be over.”
He looked over his Death Squad unit. They’d come so far from what they’d been. Now they were undead killing machines.
“Thank you for doing this, guys. For what needs to be done. Our duty. Sometimes we get to choose the things we do, and sometimes it chooses us. When it does, we have to be prepared to step up. I’m proud of you, each and every one of you. I’m proud to have you on my team. No matter what happens, we’re victorious today simply because we tried.”
They shared a smile, then their expressions turned serious.
Tommy nodded. “Let’s do this.”
They rounded the corner and formed a line.
The Sphere entered the side of a farmhouse and didn’t stop until it emerged on the other side. With a giant hole through its middle, the house collapsed in on itself.
Tommy didn’t open fire until they were ready. He glanced out the corner of his eye at the others. They were focused, unblinking, waiting for him to fire first and give the word to unleash hell.
Tommy did.
* * *
The bolt of plasma that issued from the end of his rifle was thick, a solid mass like a giant bogey fired from the end of a giant’s nose. The plasma morphed and bubbled beneath its power and didn’t make a sound, although Tommy felt like it should have. He imagined a ripping, tearing noise like a blade through a rough sheet of paper. Still, it obeyed the laws of physics and began to dip, succumbing to gravity, but its immense internal energy carried the bolt forward as it slammed into the Sphere and melted the metal like acid on flesh. The Sphere might have tough armor, but it was still only armor.
Four bolts flew, and all four struck the sphere. Only Tommy’s shot hit its target, the others careening off course and stabbing holes along the Sphere’s bottom.
The Death Squad recalibrated for their second volley and opened fire.
33.
THE ARCHITECT
The Architect jolted to one side and grunted through his teeth.
He pressed a hand to his ribs. It came away thick with congealed blood. How can this be?
He blinked against the bright light of day that filtered through the gash in what was meant to be his impenetrable fortress. His tank rocked to one side as another volley struck him, and another bolt of plasma rent a hole.
It can’t be. . .
The plasma ought to have torn right through him, leaving nothing but burning flesh. The Sphere’s armor had taken the worst out of the sting. Still, a few more direct hits and he wouldn’t be in very good shape.
He threw his net of influence across the battlefield and identified the anomalies responsible for firing on him. The anomalies who should never have existed in the first place. Of course, without them, he would never have discovered their latent ability to become Walkers, and leverage that to control the undead.
But all things must end, and the Death Squad had been a thorn in his side for quite long enough.
They were undead, and he controlled the undead. They were within his domain now.
Now, there was no running away.
34.
TOMMY
“The center!” Tommy bellowed. “Aim for the center!”
Guy, Emin, and Jimmy were not the best marksmen in the world. They could hit the Sphere okay, but when it came to striking a moving target, they were incapable of predicting where it would be next. What did he expect? They’d never so much as touched a gun until a couple of weeks ago.
The Sphere slowed and altered its direction, rolling in an arc toward them. Tommy watched as the holes they’d made in its side melted, self-sealed and covered over again like something from the Terminator movies.
Were they having any effect at all?
Tommy pressed his cheek to his rifle before realizing it didn’t have a scope. As he pulled his head back, he noticed something slide back into place on the top.
No. . . Surely not. . .
He lowered his cheek back to the rifle and watched as a flap morphed into the shape of a scope. As Tommy moved his eye closer and further away from the scope, the magnification changed. He peered at the ground where he’d opened fire on the Sphere. Glimmers of sun winked off the Sphere’s melted metal surface.
The Sphere could self-heal, but only by using the material it was made of. That meant that the more damage they did to it, the thinner the armor would be around its entire body.
To destroy the Sphere, they had to keep firing until it could no longer regenerate.
“Keep firing!” Tommy yelled.
He pulled the trigger and. . . nothing happened. He tensed his arm and again, the bolt didn’t fire. He smacked the rifle with an open palm and tried again. He heard the same attempts to get their rifles to fire on either side of him. The others were having the same problem.
“Do these things need ammo?” Guy said.
“No,” Tommy said. “I don’t think so. It must be something to do with the—”
His arm shook. He checked his watch. He wasn’t due for another blood injection for two hours. What was happening?
He watched in horror as his arm began to turn to the side.
Turn toward Guy.
“No!” Tommy banged on his arm and pulled the rifle back. His arm wasn’t responding to his commands. It was as if someone controlled him like a puppet. “Guy! Move! I can’t control myself! Move!”
“I. . . I can’t,” Guy said.
Their eyes caught. Scared. Afraid. Terrified of what was happening to them as Tommy’s rifle stared Guy in the face and Tommy felt the muscles in his arms begin to stiffen.
35.
HAWK
Hawk doubled over and clutched his head. The incredible strength of the Architect sent terrible pulses through his body, culminating with the cluster headache behind his right eye. The focus hadn’t even been aimed at him, but his comrades in the field, and still he felt it, like a hot iron to his mind. The muscles in his arm tensed. He held no weapon but felt the sensation that would have let off a bolt of plasma.
He turned his consciousness to face the Architect’s incredible power; a glowing ball of light, like a roaring sun with molten rays emanating out of it. Anyone watching him might have thought he was having a fit—not that anyone was paying him any attention. For that much at least, he was thankful.
The light that issued from the Sphere was mesmerizing, bright, and shiny, and difficult to pull his attention from. A moth would have fared no better.
The light shifted, having not one pulsing heart, but several, and they did not all come from the Architect. They were coming from. . .
Hawk’s eyes widened. No. That’s not possible!
With flailing hands, he reached for the computer controls and keyed in Tommy’s radio. He had to tell the others. He had to let them know.
But as he opened his mouth, he found it hard to form the words. The Architect’s power was so immense he could even control Hawk from this vast distance.
The Architect was something else, something beyond. Far too much powe
r for a single man to employ.
Hawk embraced his tiny trickle of power and focused. He would only get one chance at this, and he wasn’t even sure he would have that.
He didn’t focus on the larger figures that constituted Guy, Emin, and Tommy. Instead, he focused on the one the Architect would underestimate.
Little Jimmy with his little alienlike pistol.
36.
TOMMY
Tommy forced his arm one way, and the Architect forced it the other. The pressure became too much and the bone snapped and the plasma rifle fell to the ground.
But the battle wasn’t over yet.
Tommy’s other arm swung up and struck Guy across the face, knocking him back. Tommy’s instinct was to apologize and help his friend up, but something held him back, pinning him in place.
And Tommy knew exactly what it was. Or who it was.
The Architect pressed down on him—not physically, but with some kind of presence within himself, like a parasite had taken hold. He had some control, could prevent the movements from happening smoothly, efficiently. But he could not prevent the move entirely.
Tommy’s good arm snatched up his plasma rifle and swung it toward Emin. This time, he didn’t fight it and instead went with it, pushing his arm to one side, sending the bolt of plasma off-center by a yard. It was nothing more than a delaying tactic.
Eventually, the Architect would kill them. It was only a matter of time.
Then, a flash, as a bolt of plasma sailed toward the stationary Sphere.
It came from the tip of Jimmy’s pistol.
Tommy’s smile sank when he saw the shot had gone badly off course and wasn’t going to hit anywhere near the Architect’s position.
37.
THE ARCHITECT
The Architect fell from his chair onto the hard metal floor. He gasped and wrapped a hand over his ribs. He looked down and checked the wound beneath his fingers. . . but there was no wound. No blood, no injury. He patted himself down, touching where he’d felt the pain. Then he paused, realizing his error. It wasn’t him that’d been hit. It was one of his slaves.
“No. . .”
How could they possibly know about his contingent of specialized units? Or had it been nothing more than a lucky shot? He couldn’t take the risk. He had to protect them at all costs.
Beneath his chair, he sensed the seven creatures tucked away in their containers. Incapable of escape, they were trapped—other Walkers he’d tested, and then surgically implanted his devices. His goal was not to control them but to utilize the unique ability they shared. They became a hive mind, and he was their ringleader.
If the Death Squad learned of their existence and location, everything would be undone.
It would not stand. It could not stand.
He got to his feet and rolled up his sleeves. Time to wipe out these good-for-nothing Death Squad once and for all.
38.
TOMMY
The momentary interruption to the Architect’s concentration allowed Tommy to relax his grip on the futuristic weapon of his own free will.
“Guy? Emin? Jimmy? Are you okay?”
The other members of his squad shared an uneasy look, fear that at any moment the Architect might try to seize control of them again. Jimmy dropped his pistol and backed away from it. He wrapped his arms around Emin’s legs and buried his face in her torn uniform.
Emin patted his head. “You did great.”
“Is he all right?” Tommy said.
“He’s fine. A bit scared of the gun, I think.”
“I thought he was going to miss. Whatever he hit, it did the job.”
Jimmy pulled away from Emin and when he spoke, his voice wasn’t his own. “He has seven others he controls, tucked underneath his chair in the Sphere. If you want to defeat him, you must kill them first. Wipeout his power before you kill him—”
Jimmy staggered backward and would have lost his feet if Emin wasn’t there to catch him. He blinked as if he’d been asleep. “Wha. . . What happened?”
Emin held Jimmy close. “It was Hawk’s voice. It was Hawk. He was speaking directly to us via Jimmy.”
Seven others he controls, tucked underneath his chair in the Sphere. If you want to defeat him, you must kill them first.
“Suit up, guys,” Tommy said. “We’ve got to wipe out these other creatures before we can tackle the Architect.”
“Uh, Tommy?”
Guy pointed to a unit of undead heading directly for them. The creatures groaned, reaching with twisted fingers, already within yards of snatching the life from their throats.
Tommy reacted fast, turned his weapon on them and stiffened the muscles in his arm, firing the weapon point-blank in the creature’s face. In the blink of an eye, its head disappeared, vaporized, and then sliced through a dozen more creatures before sailing across the field and over the heads of the army. Two more quick bursts and the unit was wiped out.
Tommy planted his feet. “Aim for the Sphere’s undercarriage.”
Plans within plans within plans. At what point would they reach the end? When they could rejoice in success? The one with no Plan Bs, no backups, the plan that would result in the Architect’s doom.
39.
THE ARCHITECT
The Architect slammed the arm of his chair. His undead army obeyed his every command, so why was it so difficult for him to control the Walkers the same way? They could not stop him, but they could resist.
It angered him. He was meant to be the supreme commander of the undead, and here he was, struggling to maintain control of these fools.
No matter.
Before long, they would be extinguished. The Architect issued an order to a large contingent of his army to peel away and converge on the barn the squad was hiding behind. Cowards.
Soon, they would be gone, then nothing on this Earth could stand in his way.
He turned his attention to the creature in the military camp—the one they called Hawk.
40.
HAWK
The Architect slammed into Hawk so hard he grunted and teetered on the edge of his chair.
I CAN SEE YOU. The voice was thunderous and loud. It might have been the voice of God if he didn’t know better. He clamped his hands over his head. YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME.
Clamping his hands over his head did nothing to reduce the voice’s volume. That was because the sound came from inside his head.
Hawk slipped off his swivel chair and crawled under his desk. There was nowhere he could hide in the real world, nowhere the Architect couldn’t reach him. If he wanted to escape him, he needed to go deeper inside himself.
He slid into a meditative state to that dark place inside, his vision shrinking and growing smaller the deeper he went. Standing there, peering up at the small opening high above, he stared with unblinking eyes at the underside of his desk.
A shadow fell over his vision. Had someone in the office noticed he’d crept under the desk? Would they call paramedics? He imagined the shock they’d get at seeing his torn face. They might even shut him down right then and there.
The figure knelt and leaned into the small square. Probably checking he was okay.
“What are you doing down there, Hawk?”
The voice sent a shiver up Hawk’s spine. How could he be here? How could he have found me already?
The Architect bent down, slipped through the hole and pushed himself over the edge, so he sailed slowly down toward the floor below.
Hawk backed away, unsure where to run, where to go, what to do.
“What sort of place is this?” the Architect said, turning to appraise the darkness. “I like it.”
The darkness no longer felt like a threat. This man was the threat. This place was a mystery to Hawk, its rules unclear to him. But clearer to him than to the Architect. He blinked in surprise at his realization. I know more about this place than he does. Any advantage had to count when you were dealing with someone like the Architect.
; Outside, a war raged and men lost their lives. Here, he and the Architect were enjoying a nice conversation.
“Where are we?” the Architect said.
“Somewhere deep inside. A place none of us are ever meant to go. That hidden part we pretend doesn’t exist.”
“You’ve come a long way, Hawk. Since that day you turned.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I was there at the moment of your conception. I didn’t know you would turn into a Walker, of course. I didn’t know any of you would. I didn’t know Walkers were a possibility.”
The man, Hawk thought. He was the man in the high tower that watched from on high, the man directly responsible for my unit’s murder, for me turning into this thing.
“Why?” Hawk’s voice was barely a whisper. “Why are you doing this to us?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me. Why are you trying to destroy us?”
The Architect shook his head as if he were talking to a boy still struggling with the simplest questions. “I’m not trying to destroy us, Hawk. I’m trying to save us. From the rot that infects our society, from the rich and wealthy that decide our nation’s future. From the slovenly and weak and slow-witted.”
Hawk grunted. “So, you do plan on killing everyone.”
“We each have our place. Humanity has such potential, potential it has never fully realized. Only with a leader dedicated to uniting the whole world do we stand a chance of achieving our destiny.”
“Who died and made you king?”
“If you want something, you must take it. All the greatest leaders throughout history knew that.”
Death Squad (Book 4): Zombie World Page 22
