by Mark Tufo
Within an hour, they’d made their way through the burned out city and down to the water. Awaiting them were just over forty human collaborators. Most were wearing tattered military uniforms and being watched over as they loaded a small fleet of eight boats. There were a handful of Coast Guard vessels as well as a few that were built for pure speed. And as the Variants that had come with him from Bryant Station leapt out onto the dock, the men backed away and moved toward the boats.
He lumbered slowly toward the end of the dock, eyeing the men who’d been chosen to accompany his group to the island. Most carried rifles or handguns. There was even one who had an AT-4 single-shot launcher slung over his shoulder. They avoided eye contact, and as he drew closer, they quickly jumped into the idling boats.
Still dragging the tortured Marine, the Bone Collector turned back to the trailing Variants and roared. As they dropped to all fours and began galloping wildly toward him, he grabbed the soldier by the neck, tossed his wrecked body into the closest boat, and quickly leapt in behind a half dozen human collaborators.
The horde appeared confused, and a bit hesitant to board the unstable crafts. Variants lined the edge of the dock and waited as the collaborators moved back. Then slowly piling in, one behind another, they steadied themselves along the sides as the boats pulled away from the dock and started for Plum Island.
Rain continued to fall out of the darkened sky. It came down much harder now, and as the eight boats raced away from the city, the downed Queensboro Bridge sat in the distance. Near the center, where it sagged into the water, there appeared a familiar sight.
The Bone Collector stood hunched over the nearly unconscious Marine and stared off the starboard side at the hull of the capsized yacht. The exposed white hull sat just above the surface like a beacon that represented the complete destruction of civilization. The symbol stirred something deep inside that he couldn’t readily explain. Something about it that just felt close, almost kindred.
The long line of waterborne vessels moved through the glassy water without incident and within a mile of the island, he noticed that one of the boats they’d left behind had been boarded and was now in pursuit. From this distance, it would be impossible to see the person who thought it would be a good idea to give chase; however, he figured he knew exactly who it was.
He wanted nothing more than the opportunity to end that man’s life.
Now less than sixty seconds from shore, a pair of flares lit up the sky and two of the boats fell back. They’d spotted the same speedboat he had and decided to deal with it before approaching land. He didn’t like the slight delay, but it was something that had to be done. That boat was gaining on them, and as they grew closer, the possibility of the man aboard shooting off another flare and signaling the unsuspecting inhabitants of Plum Island was too much of a liability.
The first boat reached the shore just slightly ahead of his, plowing through the two sets of electric fences. And as the aggressively impatient Variants began running out onto the soft sand, the Bone Collector looked toward the horizon and the white domed buildings he was about to overthrow. He would take the island and everything on it.
This place was his now and every remaining soul left on this rock was going to remember his name.
— 17 —
Collaborators followed Variants away from the beach as gunfire erupted from the towers that protected the white domed buildings. Lighting up the sky, the rounds buried in the sand and tore into the first few boats lining the shore. As he watched the chaotic mess just beginning to unfold, the Bone Collector grabbed the man to his left—the one who’d followed him from the city—and pointed toward the trees.
“Doctor…where?”
The man hesitated. He was shaking and looked quickly from the boats to the treeline and back.
“Uh… I’m not…uh—”
The Bone Collector wrapped his thick claw around the man’s neck and roared.
“WHERE?”
The man flinched as he was dropped back into the boat. From just beyond the trees, a Blackhawk lifted above the tarmac, firing on the beach as it ascended. Variants skittered away, their joints clicking and popping as they rushed from the area looking for cover.
“There,” the man said, “the buildings are over there. Look for number three.”
From over his left shoulder, a flash streaked away from the beach. Illuminating the sand, a rocket shot across the sky and slammed into the side of the helicopter. A massive plume of orange and yellow backlit the entire island as the fiery wreckage dropped quickly back to the tarmac.
“GO!”
Tossing the man out onto the beach, the Bone Collector watched where his Variant warriors were entering the interior of the island. He gripped the back of the man’s jacket and pulled him forward. They quickly moved through the trees and then along a concrete path between two buildings.
From the rear, another boat appeared out on the water. It had come from the right side of the island and moved with considerable speed as it approached the shore. A soldier stood positioned behind the Gatling gun firing at those still on shore. But as it drew to within fifty feet, the human collaborators hiding at the treeline began firing back. Within seconds, the blacked out military vessel glided to a stop.
Out into the center of the facility, he followed a group of Variants as the air raid sirens blasted from somewhere further in the facility. Off to the left, the wrecked Blackhawk lit the tarmac, casting shadows over Variants attacking a pair of Marines near the entrance to one of the domed structures.
Automatic gunfire and tracer rounds shot across the common areas and targeted a large grouping of Variants galloping away from the scorched airfield. They dropped faster than he could count, heads exploding and limbs being ripped from bodies. Unfazed, his translucent soldiers continued to charge toward the five Marines positioned along the center of the lawn.
In the opposite direction, a man and a woman carried a Marine down a set of steps and once they reached the bottom, they sat the soldier in a wheelchair. Behind them, two more women and two little girls followed. They were moving quickly down a concrete walkway toward the one of the other buildings, and as the young blond Marine quickly scanned the lawn, the others ran on ahead.
His instinct was to chase down the man in the chair and the one pushing him, although a voice from over his shoulder pulled him back.
“Hey…that’s her.” The collaborator he’d pulled from the boat squatted beside him, pointing toward the women moving away from the man in the chair.
“That’s the doctor.”
The Bone Collector brushed the man aside and watched as another wave of Variants moved on the five Marines fanned out across the lawn. He found an opening and lumbered quickly to the middle of the group. Support also came from behind as his human collaborators laid down cover fire with their shotguns and M-16s.
The man in the wheelchair stopped and shouldered a rifle as the others continued on toward the building in the distance. He took aim and fired a shot that hit one of the human collaborators dead center in the face, a river of blood bursting from the man’s obliterated skull.
As the blond wheelchair-bound Marine shouted at the women, they were escorted away by an older man with a shotgun. And as they started up the steps into the building, two additional Marines moved away, sprinting for the center of the lawn.
He wanted the blond Marine in the chair. He wanted him for himself. The only thing he wanted more was the woman doctor who he was told was creating a weapon that would destroy him. He didn’t understand why, but he was curious about this human and how easily he’d gotten to her. It would be over in less than a few minutes, and those who moved into his path would pay the price.
Another woman, short haired and muscular, returned and crouched next to the man in the wheelchair. She also carried a weapon and after exchanging glances, she turned and began firing at his Variants, leveling at least six before taking a breath. However, he didn’t care. He only wanted to ge
t to the man in the chair and then to the woman doctor. He would give every last one of his followers to get what he came for.
The man in the chair again shouldered his rifle and began taking aim at the human collaborators. The Bone Collector moved in a straight line to the machine gun nest and in full view of the man in the chair, gripped one of the Marines, held him in the air and with one twist, snapped the soldier’s neck.
Tossing the limp body aside, he turned and started for the Marine in the chair. The young blond man leveled his weapon and began to fire. Rounds exploded into his armor, slowing him down, but not stopping him. He was angered and as the small man in the chair fired again, he drifted back into the cover of his army of Variants.
As the short-haired woman changed her magazine and continued to fire, another joined the fight. It was the man with the shotgun, who’d guided the woman doctor and the others into the building at the far edge of the greenbelt. He came in next to the man in the chair and immediately shouldered the weapon and fired on the Variants attacking the Marines at the center of the lawn.
The man in the chair shifted focus and also began firing at those near the machine gun nest. They picked off the Variants one by one, but were only able to save two of the men before they were overrun. The pair of Marines quickly fell back, firing as they moved away from the nest.
With only seven of his Variant warriors remaining on the lawn, The Bone Collector moved to the front of the pack. The only thing between him and the woman doctor was the blond Marine in the chair and his two very foolish friends. He would kill the men and take the woman back with the others. He would make her watch as he took their lives.
As the Bone Collector hunched forward and started toward the trio, the man with the shotgun stepped away from the others and fired one devastatingly accurate shot that exploded through his armor and blew off his left arm just below the elbow. Fragmented pieces of flesh and bone shot into the army of Variants already darting forward.
The Bone Collector howled in pain as he looked from left to right searching for a place to retreat. The blond Marine in the wheelchair was already tracking him and fired off three quick shots into his armored chest plates. One of the rounds tore into his flesh, forcing him to the right. And before the next barrage began, he quickly dipped his head and vomited a thick white substance out over his amputated left arm.
The man with the shotgun, as well as the two remaining Marines, continued to fire on another pack of Variants as they dropped to all fours and galloped across the greenbelt. The three men were able to eliminate two of the skittering creatures, although the others were able to make it through unharmed.
Turning away from the trio, the Bone Collector looked back toward the building that the woman doctor had disappeared into, and roared as the Marine in the wheelchair again fired into the bony armor on his back and right side. His thickly pained howl echoed across the lawn as four of his Variants plowed into the two remaining Marines, knocking them back into the grass. The soldiers were able to cut down two of the beasts, but in the end were overcome by the unfair odds.
The man with the shotgun moved in as the two Variants lost interest in the dead Marines and again opened fire on them. He was able to eliminate the pair with three quick blasts and then twisting back to his left, leveled the barrel at the Bone Collector.
He lumbered forward, moving toward the man with the shotgun and took a blast to the side of his already splintered chest plating, sending fragments of bone and flesh rocketing past his face and neck.
As the man with the shotgun pumped the weapon, the Bone Collector grabbed it with his uninjured hand and tossed it away. Quickly turning back before his much smaller adversary had a chance to react, he gripped him around the throat and lifted him off the ground, blood running down his densely muscled arm. And with one flex of his meaty claw, he snapped the man’s neck and tossed him aside.
Turning his attention back to the Marine in the wheelchair, the soldier fired off two quick rounds and shouted.
“NO!”
The Bone Collector dropped to all fours and launched himself into the young Marine’s wheelchair. The ensuing collision sent the smaller man flailing backward and onto the paved walkway. The Marine scrambled back to his rifle and rolled over onto his back, as the woman who remained at his side lunged forward and drove the blade of her knife into the Bone Collector’s back.
Twisting left, he swatted at the woman and knocked her back into the steps of the building. He then turned back as the Marine cursed at him and fired a round that tore off a large piece of his right ear. Reaching down, he grabbed the man with the messy blond hair by one of his broken legs and tossed him down the concrete path.
As the injured Marine clawed to get away, the Bone Collector moved in over him and hoisted him into the air. Spinning back toward the building, the woman he’d tossed away had returned. She leapt onto his back and again drove the knife into his thick muscles. Using the jagged edge of his severed left arm, the Bone collector slashed at her, knocking her back to the ground.
The Marine he held at arm’s length again cursed as he struggled to breathe. The small man gripped his thick forearm with one hand and began striking him in the eye with the other. The Bone Collector howled as the man’s knuckles tore into the soft fleshy tissue just below his eye. He’d given the young Marine enough time. He needed to end this and get back to the reason he came here.
As the Marine fought to take another breath, blinking and squirming as he was raised higher into the air, the Bone Collector tightened his grip and twisted his vice-like clawed hand to the left, snapping the young man’s neck. It was over. He tossed the young Marine’s body aside and looked toward the building at the end of the concrete path.
The woman with the knife started to crawl toward the Marine’s motionless body. She was shouting something incoherent, and as he reached for her, a single shot from somewhere in the distance plowed through his back armor. He rounded his shoulders and grabbing the woman by the hair, started for the building straight ahead.
She struggled under his grip and called out to the fallen soldier as he pulled her toward the steps at the front of the building. Twisting and peering over his left shoulder, the Bone Collector saw the Marine who’d shot him in the back now firing on another pack of Variants. As he reached the steps he handed the woman off, quickly climbed to the door, and nearly ripped it from its hinges.
He looked to the dozen Variants that had rushed from other areas of the facility and pointed into the building.
“I…want…all…of them.”
Out onto to the concrete path, he led the way back to the waiting boats. The woman doctor cried as he carried her over his shoulder. She pounded her small fists into what remained of his bony armor and spoke softly into the night. She was attempting to convince herself that everything was going to be alright, that she was going to find a way out of this.
Reaching the beach, the Bone Collector waited as his Variants placed the other women and the two little girls into the first boat. He waved them on and watched as they skittered into the adjoining vessels. And finally climbing in behind them, he nodded to his human collaborators and pointed his hooked claw out over the water.
“Go.”
A minute later, they were racing back down the East River toward New York City. Toward his home.
— 18 —
He had forgotten just about every detail of his former life. The only thing that remained was the vague memory of his former injury. The headaches, the nausea, the excessively debilitating and frequent blackouts, those things were gone. The side effects of his many concussions were part of who he used to be. But he didn’t miss that person, and only rarely had flashes of what it meant to be human. What it meant to be less than what he’d become. The Blake Chambers from three months ago was gone, and as he led his army of Variant warriors back to his lair, he was okay with that.
In less than two hours, they’d reached the docks and unloaded their civilian prisoners.
Thick rain now washed away the layer of ash that covered every inch of the city. It pelted his head and neck as he scanned the far end of 42nd for the only thing that would stand between him and the Bryant Metro Station. The Bone Collector hadn’t seen Goliath in days, but returning home, he had a feeling that tonight would be different.
The half dozen Variants who carried the women and two small girls began to move at an increased pace. They had made their way to the front of the advancing horde, climbing over torched vehicles and skittering along the destroyed sidewalks. However, he wanted them closer, he felt the need to keep his human prisoners alive for the time being. He wasn’t going to allow one of the rival groups to destroy the woman doctor or the children.
He dropped to all fours, pounded his fists into the asphalt and shrieked at the offending Variants. Their heads shot back, a few returning his animalist howl, and although they continued on, the group slowed their pace.
Shifting his gaze, he watched as the woman doctor pounded the back of the large Variant he had allowed to carry her. She squirmed, frantically attempting to free herself and screeched as her captor tightened his talon down around her ankle, cutting into her flesh.
The woman doctor fought harder. She continued to slam her fists into the back of the Variant, and when he didn’t respond, she pulled back her left leg, and kneed her unsuspecting captor squarely in the throat. As the Variant’s head shot back, she could feel the fleshy part of his neck give way under her kneecap.
The massive beast screeched in agony and tossed her to the cold wet concrete. Her body slammed into the ground, and as she rolled onto her back, she was already kicking and screaming.
“No!” she shouted. “Leave us alone.”
The Variant was over her before the last word left her lips. He ran his thick claw over his injury and then tilted his head from side to side. The woman doctor scooted backward as the Variant slashed at her, finally grabbing ahold of her left boot and dragging her toward his awaiting mouth.
