Chapter Forty-One
“The electrical panel’s over here.” One of the Day Breaker’s now occupying the crewman HQ shouted as he pulled open one of the two steel doors. He disappeared inside along with a second man who followed right behind him.
Haus waited until five others filed into to the operations room. He didn’t think the first two would quickly find the lever, even if they did it would be too late for any of them.
Palming the M-68 fragmentation grenade in his left hand and holding the pistol grip of the CAR-50 with his right, the Crewmen boss waited to see if any others were following behind the five standing just outside of the electrical room, most with their back to the sewer gates and him. He had already pulled the pin, the grip of his hand compressing the spring-loaded spoon that when released would set the fuse off and detonate it in four to five seconds.
Haus stepped quietly to the gates, closing the distance to his quarry. When the group of five neared the doors to the small room, Haus let the spoon fly off the grenade by releasing the grip. He waited maybe a second before tossing it to the floor underhanded where it landed just in front of the group, some of whom swung their flashlights first in the direction of the noise of the spoon flipping off the grenade before clanking to the floor. One of them flooded the floor with her flashlight. The young woman froze at the sight of the small dark object rolling into their midst.
As much as he wanted to watch, Haus instead ducked back around the wall and instinctively went to a crouch facing away from the open room. A second later the grenade detonated. The explosion in the relatively enclosed space was deafening, and Haus was again glad for the team gear he wore. The helmet’s built-in earmuffs filtered any loud, damaging noises while still being able to hear normally in them. His face mask momentarily darkened as the flash of light along with shrapnel, pieces of concrete and body parts flew through the open gates and into the sewer.
Haus peered around the corner into the bunker. What had been a group of five now lay sprawled in bloody heaps, one or two was moving and moaning. Dust and smoke filled the room eerily illuminated by a couple of flashlights that survived the blasts laying on the floor. One with a hand and part of a forearm attached; the skeletal white of the bone dripping blood onto the floor.
One of the doors of the electrical room swung open; the other had been pushed open against the wall by the blast. Haus watched as first one, and then a second man stumbled from the room. One held a bloody arm. The other had no visible injury but was noticeably dazed and in shock from the pressure wave and noise. The one holding his arm stumbled about looking at the carnage on the floor illuminated by the dropped flashlights. He was talking, but Haus couldn’t make any sense of it. The one behind him was a little quicker to realize they were under attack. He brought his shotgun up and scanned around the room, activating the tactical light on his weapon.
Haus shot him without hesitation. The .50 caliber round, striking at 4,000 feet per second, was enough to do the job. The explosive load only made it a sure thing as the man’s body was separated just above the sternum, the upper chest, arms and head blowing upward before crashing down behind the remainder of the body falling forward.
The wounded man spun and turned toward where the shot came from. In the limited light provided by the flashlights laying around he made out the form of large man with a helmet and vest moving through the dust and smoke toward him, his rifle pointed directly at him. The man raised his one good arm.
“Hey INFIL-man, be cool. Take what you want.”
Haus could see that he was unarmed, having dropped his shotgun in the electrical room when the grenade went off. Letting the CAR hang by the three-point sling the Crewmen boss drew a large knife. He grabbed the man by the hair on the back of his head and yanked him forward until the sharp blade rested against the mains neck.
Haus stared into the mains eyes through his night vision, ignoring the voices coming from farther into the bunker. Blood ran down the man’s forehead from somewhere on his scalp.
“How many others are inside mate?”
“I, uh, I’m not.”
“How many?” Haus pushed the edge of the blade into the skin, a trickle of blood emerged from under the sharp edge.
“Another three or four maybe. Please, bro. Just take what you want.”
“Anything you got is already mine. How many at the guard posts?”
“Four. Two at each end.”
“I need you to run an errand for me.”
“Whatever you need. It’s cool, man.”
“Slither down to one of the gate posts. Tell them to pass the word that Haus is reclaiming what’s his and taking what’s not. Any surviving Crewmen, or Day Breaker that wants to join me, lives. Think you can deliver that message? If I see you or any other of your Outfit in this bunker or near it, I will kill you on site.”
“We thought you was dead.”
“Not dead, just pissed. Think you can deliver the message or should I just slit your throat now?”
The man nodded.
The voices getting closer caught Haus’s attention. The flicker of light beams began bouncing into the room visible in his night vision. He centered his eyes to a doorway that led to the back rooms. Whoever was left would soon arrive.
He swung the injured and dazed man by the hair toward the sewer opening.
“Scurry along, and seek the light while you can.”
The man bent down and grabbed a flashlight before disappearing into the sewer.
Haus turned and started into the hallway rather than wait for the other group to make their way to the operations room. As soon as he rounded the corner, he had them in his sights. He fired two quick shots into the group of three, then paused to scan for a target.
There were none. The explosive rounds blew two of the bodies apart and the shrapnel in the confined hallway took down the third who tried to crawl away.
Haus took his time, listening for any others who might be farther in. Slowly he advanced down the blood splattered hallway. Stepping over and between the chunks of what had been two men, or maybe one was female. He quickly caught the one dragging himself off.
Haus stepped on his back, stopping his movement.
“Please,” the man coughed up some blood. “Don’t shoot me again. I promise I’ll show you where the trophies are.”
“I’m not here for the trophies.”
The wounded man turned his head from the floor to look back up at his tormentor; a thick stream of blood fell from his mouth. He squinted his eyes and tried to see his attacker, but only saw a shadow. The flashlights on the floor lit up nothing more than his boots, one of which remained firmly on the man’s back.
Haus’s helmeted head came into view as he leaned down close to the man’s face.
“Who’s left in the bunker?”
“No one,” the man coughed up more blood as he shook his head.
“I’m gonna go look. You need to drag yourself to the sewer; you’re not going to want to be in here in a little while. If I find anyone else in there, after I kill them I am going to come back and slowly slit your throat, so I’ll ask you one more time mate, who’s left?”
The man coughed, blood splattered onto the concrete floor. “Honest bro we were it.” The man coughed again, “All the rest is topside or,” he gasped, “or at the sewer guard gates.”
Haus picked up the shotguns of the group while the wounded man turned himself around. Haus kicked a flashlight to him, which the man grabbed and then pulled himself in the other direction, pointing the light ahead of him.
The spaces were intimately familiar to the Crewmen, and with the night vision, everything in the pitch-black bunker was bright as day. After checking the living areas, he moved to the armory.
The recent operations left the pickings slim, illustrated by the mostly bare shelves. Graybeard undoubtedly had everything he could carry topside with him and his crew. Haus eyed the various shotguns and some M-16’s, boxes of ammo, some batteries and diff
erent handguns and magazines.
Spying some flares, he stuffed as many as he could into a small backpack along with as many explosive shotgun shells that he could cram in there, he would need those when the CAR-50 ammo ran out. He was about to turn to leave when his eye caught four small shells, he recognized them immediately.
They were high explosive 40mm rounds, the kind that fed into the M420 launcher mounted on the forearm of his CAR-50. The dead INFIL-rats that he took the weapons off earlier had apparently shot all of theirs off during their last stand. Those rounds were not much use unless you had a launcher, which Haus did, courtesy of the dead infiltrators.
He filled the open slots on his tac vests with three of them inserting the last one into the M420 on the underside of his CAR-50. Hefting his pack up to his shoulder the large man spun and headed back to the operations room. He was amazed that the wounded man had made it all the way to just inside the doorway before passing out, or dying.
Haus wasn’t inclined to check and didn’t care either way. He did stop to consider that the eight, probably nine now, dead Day Breakers and one walking wounded represented almost a third of what their ranks were before Graybeard attacked. He didn’t know how many Crewmen may have joined Graybeard, but couldn’t imagine it would be more than a handful.
Easy as this hit was it would only get harder, especially once they were alerted. That was all right with Haus, he was single-minded now in his desire to get that gold, or at the least keep Graybeard from having it. He quickly climbed the ladder up to the generators.
After pulling the wires from the standby generator, he shut down the one running. Utilizing a tool box kept for repairs he disconnected the fuel lines from each one then dropped them into the open hatch before turning the valve full open on one of the two small tanker trailers parked next to the generators. fuel pulled by gravity began pouring down the opening and into the electrical room before flowing out to the operations area.
Haus drove the pickup truck with the other tank trailer out of the open gate. One tanker trailer was always hooked up to the generators to keep them going while a second one that rotated out with it was used to bring fuel to the bunker. Since there was no delivery business in the zone, they had to go and get the diesel, but they couldn’t beat the price even if they had to pump it out of a storage tank themselves.
Haus let it run while he went and scouted around the parking structure. Either that wounded Day Breaker, if not the grenade and gunfire itself probably alerted the post guards who would know something was up when the lights went out.
Would they travel back down the sewers? Stay at their posts? Try to go topside? Was Graybeard now also alerted and would he send some of his crew back here or continue to pursue the infiltration team and the gold? The answer to the last question was clear; no doubt Graybeard would continue to move toward the gold, or try to take it from the infiltration team that earlier moved through the area.
Haus jumped in the truck after disconnecting the trailer and drove the five stories to the top of the Garage. The lowered tailgate nudged against the wall as the Crewmen leader backed up the pickup truck. Haus exited the vehicle and walked to the back where he stepped onto the bumper before stepping onto the truck bed, staying low as he did so.
From a low crouch, he slowly rose over the edge and eyeballed the street 80 feet below. He quickly oriented himself and searched for the manhole covers with locks and ladders, the others were welded shut to keep the creatures out. He decided this was as good a place as any to wait to see who comes back to the garage entrance or what rats might pop out. It would take a while for the fuel to run down into the bunker and sewer through the narrow fuel lines anyway.
As Haus waited, he neither saw nor heard the individual standing next to him.
The same person who traveled with him into the bunker and now to the top of the parking structure.
Chapter Forty-Two
Calum and Wu surveyed the empty campsite.
“Looks like he bugged out quick, probably as soon as I left him,” Deputy Styles said, as he scrolled through the mobile display terminal or MDT in his patrol vehicle.
“There it is, found it.”
Wu and Calum stepped closer to gaze over the deputy’s shoulder as they stood in between the open driver’s side door. On the monitor was a picture of the rear of the RV but more importantly was the license plate already captured by the ALPR or Automatic License Plate Recognition scanners mounted on the patrol vehicle.
The ALPR system was designed to automatically capture an image of a license plate then transform that image into alphanumeric characters using optical character recognition software. Comparing the plate number collected to databases that contained vehicles of interest to law enforcement it would alert an officer when one is detected.
Not yet reported stolen, the RV’s plate did not raise any flags with the system. Deputy Styles changed that with a few keystrokes, updating the system that the vehicle and occupants were persons of interest involving a kidnapping and extortion case out of Arizona. The system would also coordinate with roadway cameras nationwide.
The deputy provided the FBI Agents with a picture of the RV and a complete registration history including the owner’s address and known contact information. Calum quickly dialed the number.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Williamson? Joseph Williamson?”
“Yes, speaking. Who’s calling?”
“Sir, my name is Agent Calum, with the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Metaverse Crimes Team. I have some questions regarding a recreational vehicle registered to you and a Mrs. Williamson.”
“What kind of crime team did you say?”
“Online investigations, sir.”
“I do own an RV, what kind of questions do you have? What does it have to do with an online crime?”
“Do you know where that RV is right now?”
“Certainly, it’s parked at a storage facility.”
“Is there a way you could verify that or give us the name of the business?”
“It’s called Mesa Storage Solutions; it would probably be faster if I call.”
“Great, thank you. Call me back as soon as you can confirm that the RV is parked there. It may be that we just have a wrong plate number or possibly a stolen registration.”
“I’m as curious as you now, Agent Calum. I’ll get right back to you. Is the number that you are calling from a good one to reach you?”
“Yup, this number is direct to me. Thanks again.”
“My pleasure.”
Calum turned to Wu, then looked at the space where the RV had been less than thirty minutes earlier.
“Ok, this is our guy, has to be.”
“Why is that, Pete?”
“I know gut feelings are not quantifiable, but I bet this RV comes up as missing. This RV made the trip up from Phoenix, last night, we have the pictures. Then when Deputy Styles makes contact this guy beats feet as soon as he leaves.”
“Those things do not require a gut feeling. I would estimate the odds at somewhere around 60%, only because of unknown factors still in play. However, that percentage makes it more likely than not this is the vehicle that we seek.”
“Exactly, Robert.” Calum smiled. “Come on, let’s get to the VTAL, we’re going to need it.”
***
“Trouble in paradise?”
Graybeard sneered at Andy, then turned back to the primary cause of his irritation and now his wrath: the shaking smaller man he towered over.
“This is your fuck up! You should have placed more guards out there. I don’t give a shit whether any of those worthless assholes are still alive in the bunker or not; you need to go back and secure it, that is our anchor to the district!”
“Once we have the gold will it make any difference, boss?” A second man asked.
“Difference?” Graybeard glared at the other Lieutenant standing next to the still shaking man that had just delivered him the bad news about the bunke
r and that Haus was on the hunt for them.
“Maybe we shouldn’t split our forces is all I am saying. With these INFIL-rats and our boys, he’s gonna have a hard time taking us down. Safety in numbers, boss; we can always hightail it to our other bunker on Day Breaker turf.”
“Hightail it, you say?”
The man who delivered the news about the bunker did his best to merge back into the rest of the Day Breaker crew as he slinked away; glad his intrepid colleague took the boss’s attention and poking finger away from him.
The other lieutenant realized that although what he told the Day Breaker leader was logical, he chose the wrong time to do so. That realization was driven home by the large man’s swift movement towards him.
In a flash, his jabbing index finger morphed into a large knife, drawn so quickly from inside his vest the motion was but a blur. Instantly he was on the man, pushing the tip of the blade up under his jaw just behind his chin. The man rose onto his toes to avoid the knife sinking deeper. Blood nonetheless trickled down the blade from the small puncture.
“Graybeard doesn’t hightail from anyone or anything, even the DEVO’s and most certainly not from Haus.”
“Yes, boss. Sorry, boss,” the man spat out, trying to maintain his balance with his tiptoes.
Two of the former Crewmen now with Day Breaker leather vests with “Prospect” badges looked at one another, then to a third. None of them exchanged words, but the nonverbal communication was crystal clear between the three. Haus was alive and was waging a one-man war; the Crewmen were not wiped out.
That information was not all that shocking. Haus was a legend. He survived for a time as a loner out among the DEVO’s and the warring Outfits before being taken in by Clayton and made his second in command of the Crewmen. He was the toughest of them all even in the very rough company of the Outfits.
Where the infiltration teams were militaristic and used superior weapons and equipment, the Outfits had to survive by brawn. Even the large muscular man, holding the other up on his toes with the tip of a very sharp blade, was not the equal of Haus.
METAVERSE GAMES: OMNIBUS Page 28
