by Marcus Sloss
I hopped over the railing to the deck below. The clap of my feet echoed across the enclosed space. I watched the ramp folded out and down with AH1 visibly in descent.
The soldiers were professionals, the scout units were elite infantry and it showed.
The flow of troops exiting the aircraft was instant when AH1 drifted a few over a desolate road.
The black acrium armor helped the troops fan out as we were deposited in a strip. I was the last one off the ramp, my boots slamming into concrete with a slight thud. My weapons were not hot, my posture was not at the semi ready.
I was still typing out our route entrance to Nevada’s Museum of Art while I kept up. And done.
The Gpads of our scout units vibrated indicating our target point.
My earpiece gave tiny crackles before I heard Mitchell say, “Mills take point. Elifer left point, Nasser right. Follow your team leaders. Double time, move.”
The street we were in was void of artificial lighting. I knew there was power further into the interior of the city because the large hotels were illuminated. Those hotels that still stood anyway.
This strip had seen smashed storefronts. A gas station off to my right had its overhang partially embedded into the pavement. Glass crunched under my boots from who knows where. A dog bayed into the night in anger only to turn into a whimper and then silence.
I wished Onix was with me, I bet the big cat would love a city playground like this. Alas, the home needed its guardian more than I did.
The moonlight was ample enough for my human eyes to keep pace behind the scouts. Even without gravity sleds, these troops were rapid and smooth with their pace. I felt like I had grown rusty sitting behind command stations. This was natural, an extension of my warring ways.
We slithered through alleyways, tucked under overhangs, and hopped across rooftops. There were forty of us running for our target. With virum strengthened bodies the half mile over the empty city was only a five minute run. While that was easy, what I witnessed was not.
The dead may have been hidden from initial sight, but a tour of the city revealed they rested everywhere.
Stray dogs had been converted from loving pets to feral beasts desperate to survive. Drill Sergeant Jenson had a saying that never left my mind.
“The number one goal of every creature is to survive. Number two is to reproduce. Think about that dipshit Yang. You must survive because others will want the same thing first. Then you can watch the females MPs swaying their hips,” Jensen would say.
While I was a horn ball back then, desperate to scope a girl’s curves in fatigues, the first part applied here. Survival. Every species had that goal as priority number one. The dead were food and there was no doubt that these dead had been feasted on.
If I had to guess someone came through here and pulled the corpses off the road and sidewalks. Now that I looked for the signs, I noticed the wrecked cars were moved too. Definitely cleaned up by survivors to avoid the overwhelming death and keep a clear path.
“Thoughts?” Mitchell asked when we arrived outside our target area.
I accepted his optic enhancer and saw three guards smoking cigars in front of an opening. The Nevada Museum of Art was gone. In its place was a pile of black rubble, the exterior of the building was a fraction of its former height. There was a shifted trailer without wheels that I guessed was used as a door cover during the seasons.
A stream of collared slaves carried buckets to a dump point to the north. When I inspected the map I saw there was a river there. So that explained waste and water. Or tap water may still be running. Waste for sure was being tossed out because the buckets were held like they were about to explode. I felt bad, shit in buckets for almost 12 days would be beyond foul.
“Are they unsupervised as they are working?” I asked.
“Getting eyes now,” Mitchell replied.
We patiently waited for the call from the scouts to reach the Truckee River. Hmm… There was an inner high five to myself for not being the only person to randomly name things dumbly. Truckee River, I let my inner demons laugh away while keeping a straight face.
“Scout Six this is Astrix Seven, over,” Elifer said over the unit internal radio.
“Go, over,” Mitchell replied.
“Three guards here, two are naked and bathing in the river shallows. Not sure how many are living in those basements but I count a few dozen at least slogging buckets by hand to the river,” Elifer said and I frowned.
Mitchell glanced at me.
“Do we have targeting on all six?” I asked and he nodded. “Eliminate.”
I watched the three guards smoking cigars with jolly faces. They were enjoying the freedom of the open space and the night air. I could have spared them and gone into a long endeavor of finding value with their worthless souls. It just so happened I was in a darker mood. Cages upset me, even if I had used them myself.
Three small orbs streaked across the night sky. Trails akin to a comet’s tail raced with the round balls of death. Each shot was a direct hit to the head as blood, brains, and gore erupted. The body’s crumpled leaving those hauling buckets mystified. A few understood what had transpired.
They raised hands in the air and laid down, arms splayed wide and flat.
“Go!” I ordered.
There was a foot race to the building. Elifer reported, “River guards are dispatched, securing the workers.”
“Understood,” Mitchell answered with a pant.
We outpaced each other in a back and forth for who would get to the opening first. Those damn taller crixxi were beating us. The distance to the rubble of the Museum of Arts was closed swiftly. We darted past the surrendered humans. Those who failed to get down, did so in a hurry when aliens and humans looking like aliens appeared out of the dark.
Mitchell signaled he was breaking off. Our eye connected and he gave me a nod for good luck. He peeled off to set an exterior perimeter, quietly giving out orders to ensure not our backs were secured.
My rapid pace carried me down the opening behind a dozen hard-charging scouts. The screams of startled women echoed in the stairwell. We dove deeper, down two flights of stairs, until I passed a double set of doors.
Two guards were crumpled on concrete with blood pooling under them. These humans were not enhanced and it showed. The stench smacked into me like semi-truck going a hundred.
I managed to maintain my vomit while others hurled as they ran.
The basement was a maze of storage shelves converted into beds. Startled humans in horrid shape were everywhere. Humanity had degraded so far in only a month my insides seethed with rage. Bones protruded on the few children huddled in fright. The military arm of this settlement was absent as we crashed in without slowing.
Mills was shouting at a wounded enemy soldier. “Where are the others? Where are the cages?”
The downed foe raised a shaky hand that was clutching a hole in her guts to point at a backset of doors. A pair of crixxi melted the bolt that bound a chain wrapped around the door. When they tried to push the double doors open they failed. You could hear scraping behind the doors as the last defenders desperately tried to keep us at bay.
“Stand aside!”
Big Sploosha was leveled at the doors with a full charge. Blue energy sparkled off the weapon as it converted potential into kinetic energy. The discharge was smaller than I wanted. The large orb had little room to expand before it slammed into the defense.
A melting sizzling sound encompassed the room of desolate refugees. A massive hole materialized as the doors and the items supporting them was eviscerated. A crixxi leaped through the opening without hesitation.
The ring of gunshots from our foe was deafening in the enclosed space. The shield on my soldiers held against the onslaught. Additional team members jumped through until it was my turn.
My running dive through the hole was halted when I tumbled into a cage at the end of the room. A wolferoo girl shrieked and cowered to the back of h
er enclosure. My focus shifted to a side room with weapons sticking out firing in controlled bursts.
I lunged under the fire and into the room. Two men jumped back at my sudden arrival.
My weapon was faster than their reactions. Big Sploosha blew a leg clean off my victim. The man shrieked as he collapsed, clutching at his nub that sprayed blood with the beat of his heart.
The other soldier lowered his pistol knowing he was defeated.
I snatched his scrawny neck, dragging him from the comfy room with lavish couches to the stacks of cages. There were three rows of humanoid females in dog kennels.
“Please don’t kill me,” the thin man shook in terror.
I dragged him to a cage. Blank dead eyes of a slaughtered woman stared at us. Stray bullets riddled her body and blood leaked out of her corpse. I saw she had no translator. I bet she had stood up to the jerks with guns and then died horribly. My rage was slipping my control as it converted into the smooth calm of death incarnate.
“You have one chance to come clean and repent,” I said between clenched teeth. “Where is the contract owner?”
“In the golden shimmer, the alien gate thing stopped on the western edge of town. Dutch is working with the others so we can get more food,” the frightened man said between pleading whimpers.
“So the other groups know you kenneled humans?” I asked, taking a step back from him as urine pooled under the man. Rare, but it actually happened. This guy knew what was coming. “Answer the fucking question!”
My bellowed demand was so loud I heard the squeaks of others from the main common room. I leveled my weapon. Blue eyes glared at me with hatred. The man grew a backbone at the wrong time.
Thump.
My orb slinger blew a three-inch hole going in and a six inch hole going out of the man’s head. I walked out of the confined room by stepping through the destruction I created earlier.
“Did the other groups know about this?” I asked, pointing into the room of huddle humans.
There was no stopping the bobbing of heads. An elderly man walked my direction with a cane.
“It would help soothe them if you removed your mask,” the old man said.
“This is alien armor, I cannot remove it here. What is your name?”
“Zackery, Sir. Zack is what I go by most days,” he said sliding a curious hand over my acrium armored arm. “You do not flinch?”
“Old man, even if you tried to dig a knife into my arm I would be fine. Now, I need some answers. There is a new government of sorts called the Bastion Community. We are the only law enforcement around. And sticking sapient beings in dog kennels is a big no-no. Our community has work available, good housing, constant food, and flushing toilets,” I said and a mother clutched her child while crying for joy. “The man I executed mentioned a Dutch. I need to know what is going on here.”
Zack raised his hand and said, “Dutch was an air conditioner repairman. It gets hot in Reno, so they tend to be household faces and staples of the community. He worked on this basement a few times so he knew about it when the end of times began. Well, most of us did not run when the closest alien portal thing arrived.”
“Xgate, carry on,” I said.
“Well, the first Xgate was empty of invaders. Again we didn’t run or flee. Reno hunkered down and we formed block defenses. The second blue was disastrous. Aliens in tech much like yours ripped apart our meager walls and deflected our bullets with ease. We…” Zack paused with a deep inhale and exhale. “Those of us who survived were ruined. Our homes destroyed, our families ripped apart, and our friends dead. When you run a bunker like this, well, you become a god of sorts. Dutch was the god of the art museum, choosing who could come and go under his protection. There were some really bad aliens last blue timing, but we lost nobody because of this little gem of a hiding hole.”
Mitchell arrived and said, “We got movement on an Xgate five clicks west. Eyes are reporting two groups of humans chatting without much guarding.”
“Excellent keep an eye out. This man was about to tell me why there are caged women, and female aliens in that room,” I said to both of them.
“I wish I had a good answer. Dutch ventured out after the second blue event was over. The building collapsed but the basement survived. He knew about the golden market somehow? Well, he drove a bunch of vehicles in and came out with some fancy weapons and a suit for himself,” Zack said with a sigh. “We were at the Xgate trying to find a new home, desperate for one of the groups to take us in. The mayor's people were chatting with Dutch. I heard them mention they found a slave market where you buy people for a set amount of time. Before Dutch went back in he offered all of us unfortunate souls a place to stay. Said we would be a good buffer for invaders but he was in charge. We followed his orders or were stuck in cages if we disobeyed. We were desperate and accepted.
“When he came out with his new servants there was a fight. The mayor went into a lengthy morality speech and Dutch challenged him to a duel. The crazy thing is, the mayor accepted. Dutch had shields that deflected the mayor’s rapid draw and won by shooting an alien weapon. Tore Kent in half, the guy tried to do the right thing. That duel ended the resistance to Dutch and his ways. He should have been dead to rights but instead he stood triumphant with a pack of werewolf girls at his beck and call.”
“And what is Dutch doing now?” I asked.
“Said he was off with his trusted men to get expansion servants. The ladies in there were told he could buy all sorts of tools to improve life here including an air freshener. So the moment the timer went off, him and the boys went topside. Us residents were ordered to clean out the mess,” Zack said noting there were still buckets with feces in them. “We were told we needed to all bathe and wash the girls in there too. When we finished that, we were to go looting for metal.”
“Thanks,” I said to Zack. Mitchell understood my head gesture for the exit. Crixxi were freeing the aliens behind me. I shouted over my shoulder, “Bring them up top. I need to claim them.”
“You got a plan boss?” Mitchell asked.
“Yeah, unlike Jarod, this Dutch has to come back here. I claim his servants and it will notify him. He will come racing home and right into the bunker. Or better yet, we set up an ambush outside and then blast one of his guys near the portal to warn him of trouble,” I said while being open to suggestions. Mitchell kept pace as we doubled up the stairs. “I don’t want to be here long.”
“Yeah, but this guy has shielding,” Mitchell said. He was not concerned, merely pointing the fact out.
I grunted, exiting the small tunnel of rubble to arrive under the open night sky. “Yup, but I have more power unless he rolls out in a tank. Even then my power is a lot between my arm and pack,” I said, scanning the area. “Overwatch here, there, and on that rooftop. Make it happen. Who is on the gate?”
“Mills,” Mitchell replied.
“Mills this is Six,” I said.
“Go for Mills,” he replied.
“Can you tell which men would be the bad guys of the group?”
There was a detent followed by a lip smacking, “Yup. Sending video feed.”
I waited a few moments until my wrist broadcast the view of a half dozen men armed with alien tech. These six men were on the southern side having a jolly good conversation.
A hesitant group was stationed on the other side of the portal, hastily throwing in items. They wore tattered clothing and small arms weapons. Yeah clear as day.
“Looks like Dutch was not smart enough to gear his men in armor. Probably to keep his reign supreme,” I said over the net. My decision was mulled over for half a second. “Kill all but one Mills.”
“Your will is my desire,” Mills said and I rolled my eyes.
I kept focus glued to the screen. The night sky illuminated even five kilometers away. The rounds on the screen were precise. Four of the six died instantly with one patting his body realizing he had lucked out somehow. The guy left his crawling injured bu
ddy to run and dive into the Truckee River. Uh… Blast, he was supposed to hop into the portal.
“Let the wounded man live!” I shouted over the command net.
The crawling survivor shimmered and disappeared into the golden portal. Phew; that was close. Now we played the waiting game. I sat there on a piece of rubble impatiently passing the time by bouncing a leg. The survivors were exiting the basement in a steady flow. My goodness they stank. When I moved further away I was tempted… actually.
“Zack!” I shouted to get the old man’s attention. “Go walk to the river and bathe. All of you. Please.”
“What should we refer to our new overlord as,” Zack said with a smirk and a shitty bow.
“King Eric, old man. And Zackary. You can keep your snarky smartass comments when you turn twenty one again, asshole. Go scrub your dirty cracks clean before I kick it,” I shouted to the man and he flipped me a friendly bird. “Did you serve?”
“Desert Freedom,” Zack shouted back while leading a group for the river.
I smirked. Back to watching the video feed. The douchebag who dove in the river fired a few shots as the Reno guys to the north from the other side of the river. A small firefight broke out with the sole man fleeing north.
A blue streak zoomed out from an insanely far shot and caught him in the pelvis.
Damn. He was not living through that without virum. So ended another of Dutch’s soldiers.
Deep down I knew I should feel something, anything, about the man crawling away from his trailing blood. Yet there was nothing. Watching him die from a distant camera view was… boring.
My heart beats to a new tune. My family’s tune, and this man was merely a bump in my quest to reestablish order so these pockets of life could make my community stronger. I knew I was being selfish by helping these people, but glancing over my shoulder I didn’t care. Even half a block away you could imagine the stench rising off the wretched people. They would clean up nicely, and then we would infect them with virum. Done, and done.
Zack would make a great soldier, the raping air conditioner’s apprentice, I could care less about. I swapped the camera to the Xgate. Well, I’ll be a monkey's uncle. The other groups had grown a spine.
