Mr. Thigh Wound yelled in agony, barely heard over the gunfire, as both his hands clasped his leg and blood spurted onto the floor. One of his buddies, having gotten to his feet after being hit by the human log Jonathan had thrown at him earlier, had managed to get out from under his ally and raise his weapon.
Jonathan reacted, throwing what remained of the crushed pistol barrel with deadly accuracy as the man brought his arm up. He knew he’d put too much heat on it the moment it left his hand. Luckily, the guy was wearing body armor over his forearms. The wad of metal still hit with enough force to break every bone in his wrist and arm as the twisted metal barrel embedded itself in the armor.
The automatic fire that had been hitting him in the back finally stopped, and Jonathan shot toward the last man standing as he was trying to reload. He cleared the distance between them so quickly his attacker was startled when the fresh magazine was slapped from his hand. He froze as Jonathan then took the rifle in one hand, gripped the shoulder strap with the other, and freed it from the man’s possession before breaking it over his knee.
Seeing his weapon destroyed, the man only had a moment to look up at Jonathan’s pissed off expression before being pushed away. The force sent him crashing through a doorway at the other end of the corridor.
Apparently, the lights were working on the other side, because the hall was suddenly bathed in light after the man barreled through the doors. Abruptly, the damage he’d done to the assault team was illuminated in much brighter color.
He heard movement behind him, and not the very stealthy sort. Jonathan turned to see one of the men had gotten to his feet. He was limping forward with a knife. It didn’t look like a standard issue blade either, but some sort of gnarly over-sized Vietnam era monstrosity. The man lunged at him, trying to sink the blade in.
He caught the knife hand at the man’s wrist and lifted him until his feet were barely able to touch the floor.
“Really, all that, but you think going Rambo on me is what will make the difference?” Jonathan asked. The man struggled but gave no response. Jonathan tightened his grip on his wrist until he growled in pain and let the knife drop.
“Mr. Tibbs! That’s enough!” a woman’s voice yelled from the open door.
Tossing the man aside, Jonathan turned toward the voice. It came from the conference room on the other side of the destroyed doors. Larger than he’d been expecting for an underground military complex. There was one long table surrounded by empty chairs and a giant display hanging on the back wall.
A woman stood on screen looking back at him like an incredibly angry grammar school principal.
“You only sent eight,” Jonathan said, stepping into the room. “That make you cautious or arrogant?”
“Rest assured,” she said, “Far more manpower and artillery could be brought in to resolve this situation.”
He considered her for a moment. “You in charge of this show then?”
“I am.”
“Got a name?”
“Olivia,” she said.
“Well, Olivia, let me save you some disappointment, any weapon you have with a chance of hurting me is a bad idea down here. Unless you’re okay risking this facility just to stop one prisoner from escaping.”
Olivia raised a single eyebrow. “And you called me arrogant?”
“You don’t want to call my bluff.”
She considered him for a heartbeat. “Let’s pretend you’re right for a moment, you must know that you’re endangering your friend’s lives. You might make it out, but they won’t. So, here is my offer; stand down, or I’ll order my men to stop aiming at you.”
He made a show of considering this, then shrugged. “No deal.”
She blinked, finding his response colder than expected, “You’re quite formidable Mr. Tibbs, but you can’t possibly imagine you can keep them safe.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t imagine I can.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If your friends aren’t enough for you to give this up might I remind you that your mother is still under our observation. A mere phone call and you’d never see her again.”
He let her see exactly what opinion he now had of her, but shook his head. “What else you got?”
He caught her eyes flicking to something, or someone, outside the camera’s frame. A moment passed, and finally she seemed to come to a decision.
“Fine. Here are the facts. I won’t allow you to take the alien from this facility,” she said. “If you go anywhere near his holding cell, I’ll bring it all down. If it doesn’t kill you, you’ll be buried alive.”
Jonathan smiled thoughtfully, and he waited a good long moment before he responded. “I’m glad we had this talk. In the future, it’ll be good to know what type of person I’m dealing with.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Tibbs, but if you believe you have a future, you must intend to stand down?” Olivia asked, an eagerness slipping into her eyes.
“No,” Jonathan said. “Today, you go ahead and do whatever you feel you have to, but . . .”
He paused, an insincere grimace on his face. “You’ve heard every word I’ve said since we left that shell, you knew exactly where I asked Harrison to bring me. What seems to be escaping your notice is that I’m not trying to free the damn alien.”
She took a moment, doubtlessly reviewing what she’d likely heard since the escape began. He’d asked Harrison to take him to the closest place he could make contact with the person in charge—a place where they could negotiate without said person feeling they were in imminent danger. Given this was the room at the end of the last hallway she’d taken him down, he suspected Harrison had done exactly as he asked.
“Are you saying you only intend to free yourself, that you’ll leave the alien behind?” Olivia asked.
Jonathan closed his eyes, homing in on the Ferox’s location. It hadn’t been stationary for some time now. If it hadn’t started killing yet, it wouldn’t be long.
“Olivia,” Jonathan said. “You’re about to find out that I’m the least of your worries. Something’s here—you aren’t ready for it.”
Soon enough, reports began coming in and Olivia found out that Jonathan wasn’t making idle threats. At first it was only word that an unidentified sphere had appeared near one of the civilian housing sectors. The thing had been hard to miss, hovering in the middle of the road, and then it had set something loose on the base.
Now, that thing was killing indiscriminately.
The base was able to mobilize within fifteen minutes, but they found that nothing was bringing the creature down. Soon, they would have birds in the air, and be able to bring far more fire power to the equation, but in the meantime, it was ripping through soldiers at a terrifying rate.
“What is it?” Olivia yelled, her voice more angry than scared.
Jonathan had taken a seat in the conference room. Quietly waiting while Olivia’s people confirmed he wasn’t lying. The broken bond was gaining strength, starting to take a toll it was hard for him to hide, but he couldn’t let the woman sense his weakness. In the meantime, Hayden and Collin, rapidly recaptured by the guards, were marched in to take a seat at the table. The fresh men pointing the guns were as geared up as the last batch, but they made no move to put a hand on him.
“We call them the Ferox,” Jonathan said. “Your basic death machine.”
“One of your alien’s allies here to free him?” Olivia asked.
“No, not even remotely. It’s here to kill me.”
She studied him a moment.
“You knew it was coming for you, how—”
“Olivia,” Jonathan interrupted. “It’s all a real long story and I’m in a time crunch. But, let me deal with this thing, and afterward I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Olivia tilted her head at him as though he couldn’t be serious. “Mr. Tibbs, this—Ferox—is attacking an air force base. If you imagine that we are in desperate need of your assistance to deal with it, you’re mistaken.”
Jonathan shrugged. “You could likely kill it. Couple Air-to-Ground missiles might get the job done. Frankly, a part of me wants to see how well you’d fare against the thing, but no, not today. I’ve got something better in mind—something I know you’ll never get done without me.”
“I’m listening,” Olivia said.
He stood and approached the monitor. “Pull your forces back and let me engage. I won’t kill it. I’ll disable it and bring it back to you—alive.”
She was quiet for a moment. This offer was likely not something she’d imagined. Now that he’d made it, she couldn’t hide her interest.
“To what end?” Olivia asked.
“You want to study it for weaknesses,” Jonathan said. “So do I.”
There was a long pause from Olivia, “Your answers are repeatedly surprising, Mr. Tibbs.”
“Mankind is about to be in a war with these things,” Jonathan said. “You’re confident you can kill one. Great, imagine dealing with ten thousand.”
Again, she was quiet. Having taken a seat herself, he could see her rocking back and forth as she considered.
“If I were to agree to this,” Olivia said, “how do I know that you and that creature aren’t simply going to join forces and free the alien.”
Jonathan sighed. “Because I wouldn’t bother asking your permission. This is a trade.”
She tilted her head. “What exactly do you expect in return. I will not give you the alien for this creature.”
Jonathan smirked. “Trust me, Olivia, today you’re getting a bargain.”
He turned to point at Collin and Hayden. “My friends and I aren’t prisoners anymore. I understand you can’t just let us go but keeping them in cages is ridiculous.”
“That’s all?” Olivia asked.
“No, whatever you learn about these things—I learn,” Jonathan said. “I’m in the room working with your researchers. It’ll save time, I know more about these things than anyone on the planet—that, and . . . if it gets loose for even a second, you’ll be glad I’m there.”
“Nothing more?”
He shook his head. “We got a deal?”
Olivia tapped her fingers against the desk. “If I agree . . . how do you propose this plays out?”
“Take me to the surface. Bring the equipment you stole from my cabinet. Other than that, there is a large box outside your hangar door. It appeared about twenty minutes ago. I suggest you get some folks cracking it open before I bring that thing back.”
Olivia’s eyes flicked off the screen. Someone speaking in hushed tones.
“Yes, it appears an unidentified box was delivered without any witnesses. What exactly is in it?”
“A prison for our friend out there,” Jonathan said. “Nothing you’ve got is going to hold that thing.”
“If we find any surprises in that box—”
“You won’t,” Jonathan said. “Now, as I said, I’m in a bit of a hurry here, so what’s it going to be?”
Jonathan was quiet, standing at the center of the large freight elevator as they rode to the surface. He’d been escorted to the elevator surrounded by armed guards, and now they were on each side of him. The Cell insisted on keeping guns aimed at him regardless of how ineffective they had proved.
Whatever makes you feel better, Jonathan thought.
The syringe Mr. Clean had teleported in was still pressed against his back. He remembered the AI’s words. “This is a concentrated syringe, there is enough epinephrine in there to kill an elephant. Well, more likely five elephants, but that isn’t the expression.”
He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to ignore the bond’s growing presence clawing at his mind. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hide the symptoms. He had to keep his thoughts as focused as he could.
For the moment, it wasn’t as hard as it could have been. Confident as he may have appeared, he’d never actually tried to subdue a Ferox alive. He’d seen them knocked stupid, but he’d never seen one knocked unconscious—didn’t seem to be a thing that happened to them. Getting this thing back to the hangar as he’d promised—it was going to be, well—something.
When the elevator doors opened, he saw a long hallway leading out into the main hangar. The Cell’s agents were a tapestry of activity around Mr. Clean’s delivery. When the AI had ported it over, he’d disguised it inside a large shipping crate. The Cell already had the contents inside and the box open on the hangar floor.
A mangled mess of alien steel bars stood in front of them like a giant puzzle. Jonathan frowned as he walked past two soldiers studying what looked like IKEA instructions. Warily they directed some men to pull on a bar here and a bar there. Suddenly, the steel bars jumped into place. The entire contraption expanded with the suddenness of a sprung bear trap. Even Jonathan flinched and stopped to stare when the finished structure suddenly snapped into place.
A simple cage made of alien steel wasn’t going to get the job done. He’d needed something that would stay in one place and wouldn’t be easily flipped over when the Ferox inevitably tried to throw its weight against the bars. Mr. Clean hadn’t been able to provide a foundation to bolt the cage to, so the AI had solved the issue by giving it ridiculously long side braces. By the time it assembled itself, it looked more like a barred prison at the center of a skeletal pyramid.
He found Olivia standing in front of the open hangar doors waiting to meet him in person. At her feet were some familiar items: his armored jacket, Doomsday, and Excali-bar. She wore a smile on her face—as though she were greeting someone at the airport.
“Mr. Tibbs,” Olivia said.
“Points for balls,” Jonathan said. “Figured you’d send a lackey out to keep your end of the deal before letting yourself be within a hundred feet of me.”
“Have I made a mistake?” Olivia asked.
He took a long breath. “Not today. Got bigger problems.”
“Excellent,” Olivia said, though joylessly. “Obviously, certain mysteries still require explanation. I do expect you to provide me with answers as soon as this more pressing operation is complete.”
Jonathan grinned just as joylessly as she had spoken.
“Now, is there anything else you require?” Olivia asked.
The Cell had only confiscated items they knew to contain alien steel. Jonathan looked down at his gear, then his bare feet. “Can I get a pair of boots, or am I supposed to Die Hard this?”
Had he not had bigger concerns, Jonathan might have taken a moment to feel ridiculous. His pajama-like pants were stuffed into the beige army issue boots The Cell had been charitable enough to provide. They hadn’t confiscated his harness, so he carried his demolition bar in one hand while Doomsday was wrapped around his jacket. He looked like some cross between a biker and a psychiatric ward escapee.
Under normal circumstances, he couldn’t have cared less. The Ferox didn’t typically pick up on an unimpressive wardrobe let alone weaponize it with clever barbs. Still, as he neared the perimeter where Olivia’s ground forces had pulled back, the assembly of soldiers gave him doubtful looks.
The fighting wasn’t far off.
He could hear the furious chatter of firearms punctuated by the occasional loud percussive thud of grenades. Soldiers were keeping the Ferox occupied. This was smart in the short term; the beast wouldn’t leave a fight to wander into civilian housing. Still, if Jonathan didn’t get involved soon, those men wouldn’t last long.
Two large Humvees parted as he approached, one man stepped out to meet him as he reached the opening.
“Well, they said you’d be hard to miss,” the man said.
“You in charge here?” Jonathan asked.
The man nodded.
“Alright, I’m heading straight for the target. Tell your men to pull out to a safe location the moment I’ve got its attention.”
Jonathan looked up, drawing the man’s eyes to the numerous helicopters in the air. He had no doubt that a few of them were there solely t
o keep an eye on him. Olivia making sure he stuck with the agreement.
“I know you aren’t going to order these choppers out of the air but keep them back. I lose its attention for a second and they’ll be the first thing it notices.”
The man looked at him and Jonathan could practically hear his thoughts.
Maybe I should ask Command to confirm my orders. I mean, this guy? This is the guy they’re sending in to resolve the situation?
Jonathan didn’t blame him, he’d have thought the man incompetent if he didn’t have such reservations. What was important was the soldier only hesitated a moment before nodding. “It’ll get done.”
While the man’s actual parting words were, “Good luck in there,” his face was saying: You poor crazy bastard, you’re a dead man.
“Thanks,” Jonathan said as he turned toward the sounds of battle in the distance. He focused on the Ferox’s location, then broke into a sprint before launching into the air and clearing a stand of trees and a few small buildings. He never got to see the perimeter man’s expression change after he left the ground but liked to imagine a decent jaw-drop had occurred.
Jonathan landed in his typical concrete smashing manner, then burst forward into another long jump that dropped him into a small park. He came down in the middle of one of the base’s playgrounds for children, punching a small crater into the woodchips. The Ferox was close now. Just beyond one more stand of trees he’d reach the cluster of buildings where the creature was taking fire. Behind him, he could hear the helicopters rushing to catch up with him.
He didn’t really want eyes on him for what came next, so instead of hurdling over the trees he stayed on the ground and ran beneath the canopy. The moment he knew he was out of sight he slowed to a walk.
He heard more gunfire, and he closed his eyes.
By the time he’d been riding the elevator to the surface, he knew he was in trouble. He’d gotten this far because he didn’t need to think much, just keep putting one foot in front of the other. But he’d felt the bond clawing through his final mental blockades.
The Never Army Page 12
