Birth of Heavy Metal Boxed Set

by Michael Todd

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A real meal, a hot bath, and a decent night’s sleep worked wonders, and Courtney felt the change in her body after she dragged herself out of bed. It was late—half past ten in the morning—but she decided that she deserved the rest, all things considered.

  She groaned and shuffled to the kitchen, where she put the coffee on. Her body reacted and seemed to insist that she go back to bed and maybe spend the entire day immersed in the base’s limited collection of films and series on the public server. Or she could read a journal. There were a couple of very interesting studies on macrobiology that she really wanted to dig her teeth into when she had the time.

  For some reason, though, she had no impetus to do anything at the moment. She was plagued by thoughts about how she was nice, safe, and warm in her own cozy apartment while the other members of her team—since that was what they were now—were still out there. They risked their lives and made advances in her field of study, and she sat at home and waited. It simply didn’t seem right.

  She sipped her coffee and made a face as she added milk and sugar. There were many things that she wouldn’t miss about being stuck out there, and one of them was fucking coffee. No matter how fresh it was, it always tasted stale, which meant that she needed to add milk—since cream wasn’t even a remote possibility—and sugar to make it even marginally palatable.

  After a few minutes of the sweet, tasteless coffee, she finally made the decision to go to the hospital. Gregor would still be there, she reasoned. He had his fair share of injuries, among which were a couple of broken ribs, so they would probably keep him there for most of the day for observation, right?

  She decided not to wait around in case he was transferred to his own base.

  Courtney threw some clothes on and made sure that they were comfortable since she didn’t know how long she would be gone. With the team still out in the Zoo, she had a considerable amount of time to kill between now and when they got back. She could use it to make sure that all the information gathered over the two days that she’d spent in there was correct and maybe do some editing and proofreading before it was submitted for approval to their sponsors. But that was shit that she could do tomorrow.

  She walked to the hospital. It was only five blocks away, and even though the sun was already blisteringly hot, a cool wind blew in from the south with a surprisingly small amount of sand.

  Despite everything, she actually enjoyed the short stroll.

  She’d grown up around hospitals. Her mother was a nurse, and Courtney had been a very inquisitive child with a fair amount of willpower when it came to obeying—or not obeying, in this case—orders of the “sit right there” variety.

  She talked to a nurse who directed her to where they had placed the only Russian on the base under observation. It took only a couple of attempts to get through the “only close friends and relatives” bureaucracy.

  “Dr. Monroe!” Gregor called from his bed. “How nice of you to visit. Missing me already? My charm is known to do this among women.”

  “I’m sure,” she responded with a laugh. “And, well, I didn’t exactly have real plans, considering that I was supposed to be in the Zoo with animals trying to eat me for the next few days. I thought I might come and see how you were doing. How…are you holding up, then?”

  “Bed is comfortable, slept like baby,” Gregor said with a nod and scratched at the dark stubble that shadowed his chin. “After I spent most of a day in a ditch and thinking that there won’t be a chance for me to ever see outside of Zoo again, even a hospital bed seems close enough to heaven for comfort.”

  Courtney smiled and sat on one of the chairs placed beside the hospital bed.

  “I’m really happy that you’re doing better, Gregor,” she said. “What did the doctors say about your condition? Will you head home soon?”

  “Over a couple of bruises and a broken rib or two?” he asked and shook his head. “All this is only thanks to some problems with the suit, and they want to make sure that I’m all right. I only need a few weeks in recovery for ribs, and I will be ready for action again.”

  She didn’t think that she would be that cavalier about her own life, but that was why she was a specialist and not a gunner. Before she could say anything in response, though, a man entered the room. He wore a deep green uniform, one that was clearly not American or even one that she recognized. The Cyrillic lettering on the literal blanket of medals that covered his chest told her that he had to be Russian.

  Gregor stiffened visibly and spouted a couple of quick words in Russian. The newcomer smiled, shook his head, and snapped a sharp salute before he turned to Courtney and offered his hand.

  “My name is Brigadier General Sebastian Petrov,” he said in very concise English when she took his hand.

  “Dr. Courtney Monroe. Nice to meet you.” She withdrew her hand and rubbed it surreptitiously to restore the feeling he’d all but crushed out of it.

  “Are you treating the sergeant?” Petrov asked.

  “Oh…oh, no,” she said quickly. “I’m not that kind of doctor. I have a Ph.D. in biology. I was part of the team that helped to recover Sergeant Popov from the Zoo.”

  “Ah, you have my thanks then, doctor,” the general said with a smile. “I’ve just spoken to your commandant about a reward to those responsible for rescuing our men from some very trying circumstances in that jungle.”

  “Oh,” Courtney said with a smile. “That’s very generous of you. Although, if you put money in for me, I’d suggest putting it into the account of Heavy Metal…Incorporated? I think?”

  “You work for a freelance company then?” Petrov asked and seemed surprised. “Of course, we can wire the payment to whichever account you prefer, but are you sure you want it run through corporate? This is a private reward, after all, for private actions.”

  “Well, all the members of my team were involved in the rescue of your man here,” she explained with a smile. “Actually, a lot more than I was if the truth be told. It doesn’t seem fair that I get paid and they don’t.”

  “Well, if you mean your compatriots Sergeant Madigan Kennedy and Dr. Salinger Jacobs—”

  “He is not doctor,” Gregor said with a grin.

  “Well, Mr. Salinger Jacobs then,” Petrov said and looked mildly confused. “They have already contacted the Russian base this morning. Well, last night, but we didn’t know it was them until this morning. They helped to rescue the rest of Sergeant Popov’s squad and brought them back to the base, so they will be adequately recompensed for their actions.” He added a few details of the Russian team’s experience for the patient’s benefit.

  It had only been twenty-four hours, but she was relieved to know that Madigan and Sal were both still alive and well.

  “Either way, I’d still like my payment to go through their corporate account first,” Courtney said.

  “As you wish, Dr. Monroe.” Petrov nodded and studied her with new interest. “I have to say, you are one of the most trusting people I have met out here. It is quite…refreshing.”

  “Well, I trust Kennedy and Jacobs,” Courtney said. “And I know that my trust will be rewarded.”

  “As you say.” The general nodded before he turned back to Gregor. “The…medical doctors have told me that you will be released from their care in the afternoon. I will give you a ride back to the base in my helicopter once you are cleared for travel.”

  “Thank you, General,” the patient said. The man saluted again, spun on his heel, and left the room.

  “You guys spoke English for my benefit, didn’t you?” Courtney asked.

  “Probably,” Gregor said with a nod.

  “So, helicopter ride back to base, huh?” Courtney said with a smile. “That’s impressive.”

  “Well, it pays to be good friends with the commandant’s son.” The Russian grinned with real humor. “Although I really hope that he is still alive. From the sound of things, it seems like Kennedy and Jacobs pulled them
out of what you Americans call some…hot water?”

  “So, if the son isn’t alive, could you head back to a court-martial or something?”

  “That is a stereotype I do not appreciate. Even if it is true,” he responded with a chuckle. “But I am not worried. If there’s anyone to blame, it will be the damned mercs who left me there. Although I do understand why they wanted to leave since it seems that they needed to stay on the move due to the animal attacks, I suppose.”

  Courtney smiled. “Well, I’ll leave you to your rest here. I need to go and get some food from the mess hall.”

  “Do not miss me too much when I leave, Dr. Monroe,” Gregor said with a grin. “I know the look of desire in your eyes, but it would never work between us. I am happily married and could never be with another woman.”

  “It’s tempting,” Courtney said with a laugh. “I’ll be a mess, but I think I’ll be able to move on one day. Feel better, Greg.”

  “Is Gregor!” he called after her as she closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Even after a trip of a few hours, Sal still wasn’t sure how they managed to get vehicles this deep into the Zoo. They didn’t appear to have anything special or which could indicate an advantage in the jungle conditions. The ride itself was bumpier than he was used to and he attributed it to the fact that the vehicles had been fitted with special tracks.

  Even so, they’d arrived in the dark, and it was still difficult to tell if there was anything different about these beasts. Maybe, like with the flare, the Russians simply relied on low-tech solutions to the problems. He’d heard the story that had been passed around social media about how the US government had put millions of dollars into research so that they could have a specialized pen that worked in zero gravity for their astronauts during the cold war. The Russians, on the other hand, decided to solve the problem by giving their cosmonauts pencils.

  It was complete bullshit, of course, the kind of thing that appealed to mass humor. He wasn’t sure if the Russians had actually done that, but the practical problem with taking pencils into space was that lead and wood shavings would get into their air filters and burn the shuttles into an early retirement.

  While he had to concede he’d been too busy to properly research it and so had no reason to really believe it, there did seem to be a general trend when it came to the Russian military that gave the rumor some weight. He still didn’t entirely believe it, since they didn’t exactly have cosmonauts to spare back then, but they did seem to enjoy the low-tech, low-cost solutions to problems that his own people dropped millions into various attempts to solve.

  It had taken most of the night for the vehicles to reach them in the Zoo. They had sensibly decided to remain in the location the flare had provided in its GPS signal. After a few more uncomfortable hours in the ponderous vehicles, they were finally out in the clear again.

  It should have been difficult for him to actually sleep, but considering that he’d had less than eight hours of sleep over the past forty-eight, he nodded off despite the rough ride that they had to endure. When Kennedy punched him in his non-powered shoulder to wake him, sunlight streamed through the thick, round windows. Unimpeded light, he realized, with the kind of brightness that clearly indicated that it wasn’t filtered through layers and layers of foliage.

  “We’re here,” she informed him and made sure that he was awake before she heaved herself out of the vehicle, which Sal realized was now empty except for him.

  He stepped out as paramedics lifted Solaratov clear. He was still in the litter and seemed to be unconscious, but his color had definitely improved from the deathly pale face that Sal had seen last. The leg was bandaged by professionals this time, but it looked considerably less swollen than it had before.

  “He’s doing much better,” Janko said as he stepped from behind Sal. “Whatever you did to him, Jacobs, it seems to have at least helped to keep him alive until we could get him back here. I have to tell you, saving him saved all our asses.”

  He turned to the man questioningly. “How do you mean?”

  “Well, Corporal Ivan Solaratov is the son of Commandant Ryen Solaratov, the man who hired us. He is not the most forgiving to men who get his children killed.”

  “Does that sort of thing happen a lot around here?” he asked. “Commandants’ sons getting killed?”

  “Well, no,” the man replied with a smirk. “But people court-martialed for pissing the commandant off happens frequently. I likely would have gotten a couple of weeks in the brig until my contract here is up, and it would not be renewed, which would leave me to find work out here in the middle of butt-fucking nowhere. But there’s always a chance that something worse happens, I suppose.”

  “Right,” Sal said. Way to live up to your stereotypes, Russia.

  “Anyway, if you’ll follow me, I’ll help you and Kennedy to the mess hall where you guys can get some food if you’re nice to the guy who runs the place. Your other two team members have chosen to join a convoy that will leave shortly—unless you want to join them?”

  When both Sal and Madigan shook their heads, he led them briskly to an area where they could strip out of their armor first. Sal was very thankful that he, unlike Gregor, was fully dressed when he emerged from his suit. For some reason, he was even happier that Kennedy was similarly dressed.

  The mess hall was different in a lot of ways from the mess at the Staging Area. Not in bad ways, necessarily, merely different. It was very clear that two very different cultures were involved in the building of the two separate sites.

  Either way, they were both military installations established to feed their personnel, which meant that the functions were essentially instinctive. Sal and Kennedy quickly filled up on beef stroganoff with beets, cabbage, and potatoes on the side, as well as small sips of the vodka that the man in charge of serving the food assured them was made not too far from where they currently stood.

  The specialist didn’t know enough about the vodka distillation process to know if this was a good or bad thing, but he definitely intended to look into it. He wasn’t sure if the vodka was any good either, considering that he hadn’t been legally allowed to drink for that long and hadn’t experimented much, but Kennedy told him that it was very tasty and spouted words like smooth and lush and clear, which he took as a good sign. It could have been wood alcohol for all he knew—or even cared right then.

  And dammit, it burned like wood alcohol all the way down to his stomach. He assumed that had been the case, though, as he didn’t actually taste the stuff beyond the burn.

  They finished and sat and talked with some of the other men and women in the room who had heard about what they’d been through before a couple of men in uniform entered. They looked around, homed in on Kennedy, Sal, and Janko almost immediately, and weaved between the tables toward them.

  “Oh, shit,” the South African said.

  “Good morning.” The officer kept his tone and face pleasant. “Commandant Solaratov would like to speak to you.”

  The three of them stood, but the man waved Janko off quickly. “Not you. Only the two newcomers.”

  “Oh, right.” The man sat and looked distinctly relieved. “Good luck, you two.”

  “Thanks.” Sal grinned and did his best to look unperturbed.

  They exited the mess hall and approached a military vehicle that waited for them outside. Sal still didn’t feel like he’d had sufficient sleep to have a conversation with a very powerful man about how his son might die of snake venom from a giant locust with a scorpion’s tail.

  No, he would never adjust to that startling image. Somehow, the new creature they’d encountered had his brain in a knot—he honestly didn’t want to hear or think about it, or even imagine it, for that matter.

  They drove up to one of the largest buildings in the area and the officer led them inside. There was something different about the building, even though it followed the same basic structure as all the others, but
for the life of him, Sal wasn’t sure what it was. It wasn’t the color or even the room placement. Merely…something that prickled at his consciousness.

  They were directed into an office with a window that looked out into the Zoo, where a hefty, corpulent man sat behind a desk and watched a video on a social media feed.

  “You actually have an internet connection here,” Sal said as he complied with a gesture that they should sit. “I can’t believe I’d actually say this, but I’m really very jealous about it.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, Dr. Jacobs,” the man said with a grin.

  “Not a doctor,” Sal and Kennedy said in unison.

  “I—what?” he asked as the officer who had led them in backed out again quickly.

  “It’s a long story,” Sal said, “but I’m actually a doctoral candidate, not an actual doctor.”

  “Oh…well, then, Mr. Jacobs, and Sergeant Kennedy. I must thank you for taking the time to join me,” the man said with a pleasant smile as he turned the screen of his computer off.

  “You’re very welcome…Commandant Solaratov, I presume?” Sal asked. “Did we have a choice?”

  “Of course you did. There is no trouble,” the man said hastily with a smile. “Would you like something to drink?” He didn’t wait for them to answer but filled a trio of crystal glasses with a clear liquid from a matching decanter. Sal didn’t think that his guess that the liquid was vodka could be questioned. Their new Russian friends seemed determined to live up to the stereotypes.

  Kennedy took her glass without any encouragement, and the commandant took his as well. Sal, who didn’t want to drink too much while he was there, was the last to raise the small glass.

  “Za Zdarovje,” Solaratov Senior said with a grin before he downed the contents of the glass. Kennedy followed suit and Sal, again, was last. He winced as the stuff burned all the way down to his stomach. This time, he felt every inch of its journey. He gasped and his eyes bulged, and the man on the other side of the desk laughed with unbridled amusement.