by John Conroe
Borough of Bones
Book 2 of the Zone War Trilogy
John Conroe
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2019 John Conroe
Smashwords edition
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
The Demon Accords:
God Touched
Demon Driven
Brutal Asset
Black Frost
Duel Nature
Fallen Stars
Executable
Forced Ascent
College Arcane
God Hammer
Rogues
Snake Eyes
Winterfall
Summer Reign
The Demon Accords Compendium, Volume 1
The Demon Accords Compendium, Volume 2
Demon Divine
C.A.E.C.O. (Summer, 2019)
The Zone War series:
Zone War
Borough of Bones
Web of Extinction (coming Fall, 2019)
Cover art by Gareth Otton.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 1
Curiosity kills the cat. I’ve heard that one before. Not quite true in the Zone. Drones ignore cats. Now, a feral dog or coyote, or maybe a horde of rats might do for a cat, but not a drone. I also didn’t think curiosity had killed the lady in the bathtub either. Second floor bathroom of a little house on Cooper Street, northern Manhattan. She looked like she had tried to hide in her slipper tub but a small drone, probably a Crab, had climbed up and shot her twice in the face with small caliber rounds. Based on the brownish stains on the white tub behind her head and the way her skull was turned to the left, I’m guessing she had her eyes closed at the end. Bits of torn and rotted cloth still draped her skeleton, but rats, roaches, and who knows what had cleaned up the rest of her. Curiosity? No, I think she stayed in her house too long, then tried to hide from a computerized killing machine. Like hundreds of others after the drones attacked. Generally an unsuccessful tactic with the Zone drones. But curiosity was certainly a problem for all three of us. Myself, Sergeant Eros, and, the curious one, Sergeant Primmer.
Just a day-long training exercise into the north end of the Zone, that’s all it was supposed to be. Major Yoshida insisted on us using upper Manhattan for some reason, and as it’s generally a little less populated with drones than the lower end, it made sense.
So it was me, Rikki Tikki, the two military snipers, and their two experimental Kestrel drones. I had argued for using the Decimator that Yoshida had sent to help me when I fought the Spider, but that was a complete no-go. The advanced Decimator was still being debugged and Yoshida’s pet scientists were still trying to figure out the best training for its onboard AI. So we were attempting to duplicate my success with Rikki with the Kestrels. The powers that be had allowed me input into setting up the lesser drones, but they still seemed pretty clunky. No real problem solving, slow learning.
Anyway, I digress. Rikki was scouting a one-block area around our position, which was a residence in the Inwood neighborhood, Cooper Street. The two Kestrels were parked outside, perched on the small roof between the two bedroom dormers, mostly hidden from sight. Drone activity was very light and we had successfully infiltrated without detection. It had been very slow going, as teaching others to do what I did was proving to be much harder than I ever thought it would. I’ve heard that the act of teaching often provides as much instruction to the teacher as the student, but I never understood it. Now it was crystal clear.
Things that I do without thought had to be carefully considered and broken down into the hows and whys. Eros and Primmer were only my second set of trainees. The first two had gone pretty well, but I think those two snipers had been carefully handpicked for success. Each had previous Zone experience and both had been sponges, soaking up everything I said or did. Most importantly, they had been egoless in their desire to learn. This second set was different.
Eros was actually okay, but Primmer was… difficult. They were older than me, both sergeants, with years of experience as soldiers. So listening to a young civilian seemed to be an issue, especially for Primmer. Also, they were both new to the Zone and lacked a certain respect for it. Sure, they had undergone the Zone Defense orientation sessions, but watching video, no matter how graphic, didn’t provide the same lessons as firsthand experience.
Wow, again with the digressing. Okay, so I’m on the second floor of the home, scoping out the immediate area from a south-facing window, when I hear two sharp reports downstairs. Gunshots—small caliber.
My brain interpreted the information even as I found myself on the stairs, headed down. I saw Eros pulling a bleeding Primmer behind the heavy dining room table that was now lying on its side, even as two more gunshots cracked, blasting splinters of wood from the table. The shooter was a Crab bot, maybe even the one that had killed the homeowner ten years ago, standing on its six legs in the hallway to the kitchen, its .22 caliber gun twisting back and forth as it tried to get a shot at my trainees. No idea how many rounds it had left.
The bot heard me on the stairs and scuttled around, bringing its gun up toward me, but I ducked back out of sight. Below me, I heard its metal-tipped feet clicking on the hardwood floor as it moved further into the living and dining rooms.
Reflexes kicked in and I grabbed the round woven area rug from the stair landing, holding it by the edges, ears straining. The little killer decided its tactics in a second, the ticking of its fast feet telling me it was rushing into the dining area, which was at the bottom of the stairs.
I spun the rug out like a Frisbee, like a fisherman on a tropical island casting a net, then instantly went for my suppressed .458 Socom just as quick as the rough fibers left my hands.
The rug caught half of the little Crab, which was only the size of a toaster oven. Enough to throw it off-kilter. Which was enough. My first shot wasn’t even aimed, just point fired as the compact rifle was coming up. It hit one of the back legs, knocking the drone off its feet long enough for the second, better aimed shot to smash the robot killer into oblivion.
The bot still twitched and scrabbled, but the gun and central processing portions were destroyed. Dropping the Socom on its sling, I grabbed my kukri and jumped down the last flight of stairs and chopped the bot to pieces.
“What happened?” I asked when the drone was fully incapacitated. Sergeant Eros was applying a nano bandage to Primmer’s left thigh while Primmer was injecting himself with a pain blocker from his kit.
Eros didn’t answer, leaving it to Primmer, whose face was pale with pain. “I was reconning the basement and this thing was down there, sitting up in a windowsill. It looked completely deactivated.”
“I told you both to stay on this floor.”
“Clearing the house should have been our first priority,” Primmer said.
“Only if we were staying, making it our base of operations. I told you—leave doors shut, blinds down, disturb nothing. A Crab can sit quiescent for months, years maybe. Now we need to go… or we’re dead. Can you walk? At all?” I asked, putting aside the mistakes that had been made, now less important in the face of our imminent deaths.
“I’ll have to, won’t I?” Primmer asked, grimacing in pain as Eros pulled him up to his feet. We were wearing all of our kit, distributed about our stealth suits, so we only had rifles to carry in our hands.
“Get ready to exfil. I’m going to check outside,” I said. Eros was already ripping apart a dining room chair to make a crutch.
Stepping to the door, I listened and watched, but the only thing in sight was Rikki hovering three meters above the street, facing me.
“Status?” I asked.
“Twelve aerial units inbound from the south. Three aerial and two ground units moving from northwest and northeast.”
A soft buzzing announced the arrival of the two Kestrels from behind my Berkut. “Orders?” they asked in unison.
“Engage northern inbound drones under tactical direction of unit Rikki Tikki,” I said, simultaneously pulling a trio of MSLAMs from my pockets, activating each, and tossing them to the ground as their legs unfolded.
“Rikki, direct emplacement of Mobile Selectable Light Attack Munitions along elevated positions of the most likely drone approaches from the south,” I ordered as Eros helped Primmer hobble out the door.
“You’re letting the drone place them?” Eros asked. Primmer looked like he wanted to comment, but pain was occupying most of his attention.
“Rikki is tracking the inbound units. He will continue to direct the MSLAMs even as they change vectors. Let’s go,” I said, moving out into the street, rifle up and pointed ahead, a fresh magazine in place.
“We’re on Cooper. We head north, turn up W 207th, then follow Seaman till we’re out of the Zone. About two klicks, give or take, and we’ll be right by the barrier where the auto guns can provide cover. Sergeant Eros, take point. Rikki will be overhead. I’ll take rear. Primmer, haul ass as fast as you can.”
“Where are the Kestrels?” Primmer hissed out between clenched teeth.
“They’re going to engage the northern inbound units.”
“But we didn’t direct them?” Eros asked.
“I did. I have override,” I said, which was apparently the first they’d heard of that. One of my conditions for undertaking this doomed experiment. “Now move. The drones from the south will be here in seconds.”
After a single glance at the hobbling Primmer, Sergeant Eros moved up the street, rifle up and ready, head swiveling for threats. Primmer dragged himself after, his improvised crutch scraping on the asphalt as he grimly plodded ahead. I turned and watched behind us for a handful of seconds, then moved after Primmer.
We were too slow. A flat-out run would have been too slow, but it would have been better. This painful crawl was gonna get us killed.
I pulled out my last two MSLAMs and dropped them onto the street after programming both for motion-detected detonation.
MSLAMS are, in my opinion, one of the best recent creations of the US military. Combining simple robotic functions with a multi-use explosive device was fantastic. But they were only going to help a little.
“Command detonating middle approach munition now,” Rikki announced from above our heads. Immediately behind us came a loud explosion.
“Detonating western munition now.”
A second explosion announced the demise of another mobile mine.
“Fire off the last one,” I said, knowing the drones had missed the street it was on, but hoping it would distract a few.
A shadow moved overhead. Rikki. He’d pulled back to help me cover. Nothing I’d ordered or programmed. His own idea. Seems my Berkut was having more of those lately.
“Ten units survive. Three Wolf UGVs have joined. UAVs coming into line of sight in three, two, one.”
Right on cue, a swarm of killer assault drones shot around the corner and filled the air at the end of the street. The Wolves would be right behind them. I fired, fired again, and then got off a third shot before the first Wolf bounded into visibility. At least two of the aerial units exploded into parts before I focused on the bigger, heavier armored ground bots.
Above me, I heard Rikki’s onboard 9mm gun fire, it sharp crack a counterpoint to the boom of my .458 Socom. Suppressors were off, noise reduction now pointless, and the concussive blasts from my rifle and Rikki’s gun brushed the skin of my face with every shot.
With eight shots left in this magazine, I locked my sight reticle on the lead Wolf, stroking the trigger and sending out chunky tungsten carbide-cored expressions of my regards in its direction. Two rounds on number one dropped it, but the second Wolf leaped to the top of a decaying Volkswagen Jetta, metal talons tearing the automotive sheet metal like paper. That car happened to be the place one of my last MSLAMs had scuttled under. The MSLAM exploded, the bot sending its explosively formed projectile straight up through the car body. There must have been some fumes left in the tank because the result was impressive. A fireball engulfed half the street along with two aerial Raptor drones, the blast flinging the Wolf up end over end. I shot it mid-air, knocking it backward into the burning car.
The last Wolf and what looked like five Raptors burst out of the smoke and carnage, the Wolf leaping up onto the face of a house, actually turning and running sideways for twenty feet along the clapboarded side of the building before twisting back to hit the front lawn of the next house. It took me a nerve-rattling three shots to fully tag it and take it out.
Rikki had winnowed the aerial units down to three and between us, we took them down.
“Fifteen more UAVs inbound from the east, west, and south. Kestrel one has successfully destroyed one of the three aerials in our path. Kestrel two was destroyed by the other two drones, but managed to damage one. The ground units still approach, a Leopard and a Tiger unit.”
I reloaded the Socom as I jogged to catch up with my trainees. Primmer was sweating profusely but hustling as fast as he could swing his crutch and drag his leg. His expression was a mix of pain and fear, with fear being the more prominent one.
Sergeant Eros suddenly fired his HK417, ripping off three fast shots of 7.62 ammo, followed swiftly by an additional two rounds.
We got closer and I could see the metal carcass of a UAV strewn about the street.
“Good shooting. But stay sharp,” I said. Eros glanced back with a grin and his left shoulder exploded in a gout of blood.
Chapter 2
Rikki and I fired as one, both of us locking onto the Indian Skyhawk that had come streaking out from between two houses. I missed, but Rikki didn’t. The Skyhawk smashed through the front bay window of a small two-story.
Eros was already pressing a nano blood clot bandage into place.
“Flechette. I’m fine,” he said, leaving the bandage to adhere itself and focusing on his weapon.
“Then let’s haul ass.”
Primmer never stopped moving, dragging himself like a man possessed up the street, eyes focused ahead, machine-like. We were off Cooper Street and on W 207th and ahead of us was a wall of trees that marked the edge of Inman Hill Park. Stores, coffee shops, and other big buildings lined both sides of the street. My military snipers both perked up at the sight of all that green ahead and I realized they would fe
el far more comfortable in the forest of the park than this urban terrain.
“Stay in the street. Do not enter the forest. You’re both bleeding and the drones will easily track you. We need clear line of sight to engage.”
