METAVERSE GAMES: OMNIBUS

by William Kurth

  Andy gulped as he saw hundreds of DEVO’s crossing the tracks in front of him. Running in IR mode was the best option against the Outfits; they had limited night optics. But would do nothing to scatter the DEVO’s now flooding into the railyards, having followed the JLTV from the downtown business district on foot while calling for others with their ear shattering screams to join them on the hunt for fresh flesh.

  “We got DEVO’s coming over the railyard fence. Are we moving or do I need to engage?”

  “Save the ammo, we’re rolling.”

  Andy growled at Keith. “We’ll talk about the gold, if and when we make the Radio Building. If we live that long, I’ll decide if I leave you here, but for now, do your job.” Andy glared at what he felt sure would soon be his former protégé.

  “Rolling,” Andy announced as he put the JLTV in gear. It lurched forward as it drove over what had been a piece of the rail car laying broken off to the side with flames coming from the interior.

  Chapter Seven

  Haus peered over the rail and around the wheelset. He laid flat against the slight incline trying to make himself as small as possible. The JLTV, its lights all off, rolled forward forming a silhouette against the flaming contents of the freight car.

  What Haus wouldn’t give for another AT-4. The Crewmen had two more, one now most likely destroyed in the rig and the remaining one with the boss and what was left of the Outfit. Haus did a quick calculation, the large bus and more than a dozen dead either from the DEVO’s trap or from the creatures feasting on them, the two rigs he had with him now gone along with seven of his crew.

  The Crewmen had gambled and lost going against that infiltration team. Despite the burning wreckage of his vehicles and the destruction of his crew, he would do it all over again for the gold. Haus made a mental note to winch that G550, or what was left of it out of its hole and look around, he might get lucky.

  A series of loud shrieks came from his right as well as behind him. Haus turned his head slowly towards the noise.

  “Incoming!” Hundreds of mutants climbed the fences, continuing their stiff, relentless gait. Single-minded in their desire to consume fresh flesh. The JLTV and the wreckage of the Crewmen rigs seemed to have their immediate attention, but that would change if they caught Haus’s scent.

  The big man swung the ten-gauge shotgun with a one hundred round drum filled with the explosive shells around in front of him. He dragged himself over the cold steel rail. Halfway under the freight car, he turned to his right. Low crawling away from the carnage, the team rig and most importantly the things swarming to the burning remains of his two trucks and crew. Fighting the urge to move fast the experienced Outfitter took his time as he moved over the ties then shimmied forward until he got between two rail cars.

  Haus scurried around the end of the cars for a ladder. Finding one, he emerged between the rail cars then climbed up. Coming over the top of the car he went to a prone position. He froze as the JLTV rolled slowly past his position, the glow of the fires of what had been his two rigs reflecting off the windows still intact despite his best efforts. The second in command of the Crewmen sucked himself flat against the roof hoping they were not lighting up the freight car with their IR.

  After what seemed an eternity he exhaled. The infiltration team was moving away. He felt slightly safer on top of the rail car. It would be harder for the DEVO’s to mass on him, and he hoped by being higher up his scent might be carried a bit farther, making it more difficult for them to pinpoint him, at least initially.

  Now, the terrifying things were preoccupied, most of them following the JLTV, but several dozen stumbled around the fires of the burning wreckage of his two rigs; attracted by the burning flesh carried by the smoke. He turned his back on the creatures wrestling each other for bodies and parts of bodies.

  Their howls at finding such a delicious meal would bring others out from the area. Just those following the moving vehicle numbered over a thousand by Haus’s estimates, increasing by the minute as others emerged from the port or came over the fence.

  He envied the crew in that rig, they were safe, at least from the nasty things. The problem for the team in that JLTV, was that they had no haven in the DZ as the Outfits did. Sooner or later the creatures would trap them in, if from nothing other than their sheer numbers. When that Vulcan ran out of ammo, they would burn them out. Haus’s interlude with how fucked that JLTV crew was eclipsed by the return of reality; he was equipped with fewer options. He would never make it back to his bunker, not without a ride.

  To his left lay the port and the harbor, and the relative safety of the water. The glow of the city he left behind to claim trophies on the other side of the bay, separated from it by miles and miles of water. To the right, beyond the motionless freight trains and semi-trailers and a block or so beyond the tall fence of the railyard lay the security of the sewer network. Haus rolled onto his back. Without any lights of its own, the stars of the night sky were bright and prominent above the dead city.

  What were the odds of him staying hidden on that rail car until sunup? Would the nearby DEVO’s feasting on his crew move away once they had consumed all there was and continue to give chase to the JLTV rig? Would the smell of the fires mask his scent or at least confuse the things into thinking his scent was mixed up in the burning wreckage?

  Haus pondered those questions even as the answers were obvious. DEVO’s operated only on what tripped their senses. If any scent was in the area, they would search relentlessly. They would shriek and carry on, bringing others in greater and greater numbers. Sooner or later they would pinpoint him, and by then their numbers would be so numerous he would not have enough ammo to blast them all off the rail car.

  As if on cue, a loud cry came from near the wreckage of his truck. Human! Nothing sounded like a DEV, it had to be human. Haus pushed back against the adrenaline that made the pit of his stomach cramp. He rolled over and peered into the direction of the scream, which morphed into yelling and cursing punctuated with more screams. The number of creatures around the wreckage had doubled since he last looked. Several were struggling with each other, fighting with something else that was struggling and trying to run.

  The hunters pursued their prey in energized bursts of activity. Normally the creatures were slow and clumsy. Except when they were on the attack or feasting, now evidenced by their furtive motions. Glimpsing the black vest before the mass of former humanity obscuring the view made the hard man queasy. One of his crew was fighting with all he had to escape the awful beings.

  Another yell and more screams. Haus connected it to a face, it was his driver, the prospect! Somehow the kid must have survived the cannon attack or was thrown free, only to be found by the DEVO’s. Now he would become one after they got done eating his flesh and slurping much of his blood.

  Haus had no intention of intervening. The kid was a goner and would soon rise as a DEVO. The beasts would eat burnt muscle, but the real delicacy they desired was the blood, along with the flesh, leaving the musculature and sinew intact. After a few days, something like flesh mutated and grew on top of it and they rose and joined their brethren.

  The tingling in the pit of his stomach returned. Haus patted an empty spot on his leather vest. He had long resolved to blow himself up rather than be eaten alive only to get resurrected as one of the horrible things feasting on the kid, his screams still going strong even as first his clothing was torn from him followed by his flesh. The grenade he always carried was gone, ripped off by the tumble out of the rig. He fought the urge to climb down and try to find it. If he got lucky, he would get it in time to blow himself up and a few attacking DEVO’s, but tonight Haus wasn’t feeling lucky.

  Spinning around on his belly and away from the carnage fifty meters away, he ignored the screaming of the driver who amazingly got to his feet once before falling under a mass of pale bodies and clacking teeth, most of his clothing gone he was a mass of bloody red bites. As the things piled on, the ruthless chompi
ng of their jaws in a rapid crazed manner never slowed as they bit him in any location they could as they dug into him ripping away with their claw-like fingers.

  The screaming faded to a sickening low moaning of a weakened human in agony. Haus wouldn’t look back; there was nothing to see and less to do about it. Instead, he stared at the long line of rail cars that trailed in the direction he wanted to go, away from the several dozen human like figures feasting on the bodies of his team and away from the thousands of others who relentlessly followed the JLTV.

  “There, that’s where I need to get to.”

  Haus spied the partially sunken ship not far off the docks behind some larger container ships tied to the pier of the sprawling port through the binoculars that remained around his neck from earlier, even staying with him in his tumble off the rig. The three-quarter moon giving enough light to reflect off the ship in the distance. If he could make it to the pier, Haus hoped he could jump into the water and swim for the partially sunken vessel. He would be safe there; the creatures would not enter the salt water. The difficulty would be making it that far, maybe two miles away. The screeching and shrieking coming from the streets in the other direction made that decision the clear choice.

  Moving slowly and meticulously, at least while the things were so close by, he slid along the top of the rail car then climbed down the ladder before stepping onto the coupler that connects the cars together. Haus crossed to the next car then climbed that ladder. It was a slow process, but if he stood up and began leaping from car to car, an urge he had to fight back, the noise if not the sight of him would alert the creatures.

  Haus did get some luck, the first half dozen freight cars had ladders intact on both ends. Occasionally the car had no ladder, or rather than being on the end it was on the side. If there was no ladder over or near the coupler, he would be forced to go down and crawl under the car rather than leap, or use a ladder on the side where he might be spotted or heard. Certain that his scent would betray him sooner or later, he moved as quickly as was prudent.

  After what was nearly an hour he arrived at the last rail car on that train, reckoning he traveled over a half mile as he looked back at the still burning fires. Earlier he heard two rigs racing by, taking the road alongside the port heading toward the rail terminal. He knew those were his boys, but he had no way to contact them, his radio was with the destroyed rig. He thought about using the white light mounted under the barrel of his shotgun, but he determined that he was more likely to get the attention of nearby DEVO’s than the speeding rigs a quarter mile away on the other side of the fence.

  No, his plan was solid. At least as good as he could make it, he needed to remain focused and not give into panic. He’d been in situations nearly as dire and survived. He would tonight as well.

  He saw his objective, larger now. A third of it lay submerged behind the other cargo ships, blocking their escape when the port along with the city became quarantined. The ship was deliberately sunk, to keep it and the other vessels and especially their crews in port, all of whom succumbed to the virus. Many were now the DEVO’s existing around the freight cars and port feasting on rats or canned food they found in the shipping containers or rail cars.

  Haus knew this area well, but only during daytime where the Crewmen frequently raided the food supplies and other valuables in the port. As much as they had taken, it seemed to hardly put a dent in what was available. Then again that should be no surprise, the port and railhead served a population of thirty-five million in addition to being a major shipping hub. The fuel on one of those cargo ships alone could run his generators for years, let alone what was stored at a nearby petroleum farm. The obstacle for Haus and the rest of his and other Outfits was getting it from the ships or the massive supply terminals and to their bunkers.

  The remaining two Outfits, smaller but no less dangerous had fought a vicious battle with the Crewmen and each other before territories were mapped out. The Crewmen, the most powerful and best situated claimed the downtown district along with a good portion of the warehouses and the port and rail terminal. The other two split the airport and the rest of the city farther out. That would change as soon as the other Outfits found out how weakened the Crewmen now were, making getting that gold all that more urgent.

  When the DEVO’s were gone, the three Outfits would own their respective neighborhoods. Claiming the treasure, buildings and everything in them as the profits of war. Or legally as “Adverse Possession,” more commonly known as squatter’s rights. The Outfits viewed the infiltration teams, despite their government authorization and permits as trespassers and thieves.

  None of that would matter if Haus could not make it the two thousand or more meters to the pier. Lying under a freight car’s coupler he began looking around. There were no more trains to hide under on that track or the others. There were a few groups of rail cars here and there, and lots of the flatbed’s over by the semi-trailers, but those were in the opposite direction that he wanted to go. Staying out in the open was a non-starter. The DEVO’s to his rear he could outrun. They limped along until they got close enough to attack. But they would screech, alerting others, intentionally or not, who would emerge in his path. They would close from the flanks. Being out in the open only gave them more directions to close from. The Crewmen second in command eyed the ships at the port, he knew they would be crawling with the things. If they became alerted, they would come out by the hundreds, or even thousands.

  Even now, their screeches carried from somewhere in the distance behind him, from the wreck of his two rigs and farther out from the rail terminal, probably where the JLTV went. Maybe the DEVO’s had finally trapped it and were cooking the occupants out. Remembering he had not heard the Vulcan fire, he figured that it was the creatures just doing what they do. More shrieking came from the buildings and warehouses around him. Occasionally he caught the movement of shadows moving here and there. They were working his scent no doubt. Without the smoke to mask it, they would find him. Probably sooner than later.

  Craning his neck to the left he spotted something that might help him.

  Chapter Eight

  The JLTV rolled past the flaming chunks of metal and wreckage and other remains of the two Crewmen rigs. DEVO’s were all over it. Because the JLTV was running dark they did not scatter, several came near, throwing rocks, bricks and anything they could pick up. Up in the turret, Logan selected the single round option for the Vulcans from a pop-up menu on one of the multi-function displays in front of him.

  Depressing only the left butterfly switch would send one round from each of the two top Vulcans in rotating fashion. Depressing the right would fire two. If he pushed both, he would get four shots, one from each barrel. This was the best setting to take on the DEVO’s who weren’t concentrated in buildings or in large crowds. One 20mm HE, or high explosive round, was more than enough to dispatch several of the creatures when they were grouped together. No need to expend more ammo than what was required to get the job done.

  The night vision that filled the large curved monitor above the triggers in front of him made the outside look like it was midday. The red Vulcan aiming reticle floated around it following the movement of the cannon.

  Centering the sight on the destroyed flaming Outfitter rigs, Logan increased the magnification. He regretted doing so as the spectacle of creatures chewing on a human leg, ripping flesh from it with each savage bite filled the screen a foot and a half in front of his eyes. Other’s fought over a second body that looked to be intact; tugging it this way and that. Some shredded the clothes from it while others sank their teeth wherever they could. The body wasn’t just moving from the actions of the creatures it was kicking and pulling back from them, trying desperately to break free.

  “Damn, they have a live victim!”

  Logan’s thumbs tensed on the triggers. Watching another human being eaten alive in a way that didn’t truly kill them just sickened him. Competing feelings of nausea and fear affected him as i
t would anyone with compassion for your fellow man. He thought about zapping them all before remembering that the man they were feasting on just moments before tried to kill him. If the Outfits had been successful that would be him, Andy and Keith being held down and gorged on while they laughed and found it entertaining. They would not lift a finger to help and neither would he. Besides Andy was running the show and did not either want to waste the ammo nor call attention to their rig. There could be another rig out there tracking them with another anti-tank weapon. Pounding on the turret behind his head took his attention from the buffet line the DEVO’s worked as they poked at the flaming wreckage with whatever they could find trying to dislodge a body part then fighting over the scraps.

  Rather than checking the rear monitor Logan pressed the right pedal. The turret spun around 180 degrees. Logan was not ready for the image filling his sight. A creature was right there standing on a flatbed rail car throwing things at the JLTV. The sighting system, set at 4X, filled his monitor with the gruesome face.

  The thing opened its jaws, wider than Logan thought possible for any human, which the thing presumably once was. He dialed back the magnification. The mostly hairless creature wore a torn shirt and pants with cargo pockets, except the pants were not really pants, they were the torn remnants of a tanker suit identical to what the infiltration teams wore; both to identify themselves and for the protection that it provided.