by Jake Bible
“No,” Capreze responded. “Not all of them, but some might try it.”
“They do, they die,” Rachel promised.
***
“We’re about clear,” Jenny said, checking her readings as the Railer train shot past the mech base. “Blow that shit up!”
“Do we really need to? “Jethro asked over the com. “The troops and Ranchers are all dead, right?”
“Do it, Jethro,” Jay ordered. “There are too many resources that can be used against us here if more UDC show up.”
Jethro sighed and typed in the final command. “Alright, you’ve got sixty seconds to make sure you are out of the blast radius.”
“We’ll be safe in 30,” Jenny responded. “Jethro, right?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Good work with the tech.”
***
“T MINUS 55 SECONDS UNTIL DETONATION,” the automated voice boomed over every single loudspeaker in the base. “Please clear the area immediately.”
The Boss felt the piss trickle between his legs as he dragged himself to an ATV. He grabbed onto the door and pulled himself upright, screaming at the pain between his thighs. It took all of his will to get himself in the ATV and seated.
“T MINUS 50 SECONDS UNTIL DETONATION.”
“I fucking heard you!” The Boss roared pressing the ATV’s ignition button. He put the vehicle in gear and swung it about towards the hangar entrance.
***
“I have lost contact with the mech base, Your Grace,” Deacon Montoya stated reluctantly. “There is no response to my hail.”
“Can you bring up the vid feed?” the Bishop asked, trying not to worry.
“I will try, Your Grace,” Montoya responded, working frantically at his control panel. “Here. It’s hard to make out though.”
Bishop Wyble concentrated on the blurry image, quickly realizing that the vid screen and camera must have toppled over in the mech base hangar.
“Enhance that picture,” the Bishop ordered. The image closed in on a headless corpse dressed in ornate robes.
The Bishop gasped.
***
“T MINUS 10 SECONDS,” the voice echoed from the hangar as the Boss pushed the ATV to full throttle, desperately trying to put as much distance between himself and the impending destruction.
He ticked off the seconds in his head and when he reached 1, he closed his eyes, gripped the steering wheel and prayed for the first time in his life.
There was a blinding flash and the landscape about him went white. He never heard himself shrieking as the resulting heat blast lifted the ATV into the air and flung it like a toy out into the wasteland.
***
The mechs and Railer train shuddered, but stayed steady as the shock wave from the explosion reached them.
Those that could, watched from the train’s windows, shielding their eyes against the near blinding flash.
“Anybody want to say a few words?” Masters asked. “I mean that was our home.”
The com stayed silent.
“Then I will,” Masters continued. “Thank you mech base for providing us with beds, showers, tables, closets, the control tower during a full moon…”
Jenny looked at the Rookie. “What the Hell is he going on about?”
“All the places he and Harlow fucked,” the Rookie grinned.
***
“It was my fault, Doc,” Bisby said quietly.
“What was, Biz?” the Doctor asked, suturing like mad.
“Stanislaw’s death. It was my fault. He… He thought I was the deader,” Bisby coughed and Themopolous swore as several of the minute stitches she had been working on tore.
“Shit! You have to stay still and quiet,” she pleaded.
“He shot himself,” Bisby continued. “Because of me. I just needed… everyone to know that… before… before I die.”
“Shut the fuck up, Bisby! I won’t let you die!” Themopolous looked at Harlow. “Get me a blow torch. We’re getting back to basics.”
Chapter Ten
Part One- Mechs, Meet Ranchers. Ranchers, Meet mechs.
“Sensors are going crazy,” Mathew said. “What’s going on, Shiner?”
“We are picking up all of the movement in the wasteland,” Shiner responded.
“All of those readings are deaders? UDC and citizen zombies?” Mathew asked. “I can’t believe I just said ‘citizen zombies’.”
“Yes, all of the dead walk now, converging on the UDC stronghold. They have been called.”
“I am so going to put my boot in the Outsider’s ass when I get there,” Mathew growled.
“If we can separate, that is,” Shiner said.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me. The smell in this cockpit is reminder enough,” Mathew complained.
***
Bishop Wyble held his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Deacon Montoya looked over his shoulder, concerned.
“Bishop? Your Grace, are you okay?” the Deacon asked.
Wyble looked up, tears streaming down his cheeks, but a huge grin on his face. He was laughing, almost uncontrollably. “Oh, Deacon! I’ve never been more okay in my life!” The Bishop wiped his eyes, getting himself under control. “You know what this means, don’t you Montoya?”
“Um, no, Your Grace, I do not,” Montoya responded, honestly confused and worried.
“It means no more bowing to that pubescent pervert! I am now Archbishop!”
***
“How’re the stealth systems holding out?” Mathew asked Shiner, still not quite understanding the modifications that Shiner had made to make the mech invisible to sensors.
“100% capacity, “Shiner answered. “We will be able to arrive at the stronghold undetected as long as we stay off the relay net.”
“Then let’s stay off,” Mathew said.
“I am uncertain of what we shall accomplish once we are there. We cannot disengage from each other and we will be spotted visually if we get too close.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll figure that out once we get there,” Mathew responded. “There’s always a solution.”
***
“Are we almost there, Montoya?” Wyble asked standing directly behind the Deacon, staring out into the wasteland. “I am in the mood to celebrate my ascension with a nice military victory.”
“Sensors show the mech heathens just over the ridge, Your Grace… I mean, Your Holiness,” the Deacon answered.
Archbishop Wyble clapped his hands with joy. “Oh, Montoya, it’s like God’s music to my ears! Archbishop! Praise the True Disciple for smiling upon me!” The Archbishop clapped Montoya on the shoulder then returned to his seat. “Now, what about reinforcements?”
“The UDC and Disciple army are close behind, Your Holiness.”
***
“Um, hey guys?” Jenny said, her brow furrowed. “Are these readings right?”
Marin leaned over and looked at the vid screen. “Shit, there must be a hundred thousand of them or more! What the fuck?!?”
“Fucking deader army, just like the one from Foggy Bottom,” Masters answered over the com. “They must be from the closest city/state.”
“Yeah, well, they’re heading right for our people,” Jay said, joining in the conversation. “I know our folks are good, but they aren’t ‘kill a hundred thousand’ good.”
“Then I guess we need to hurry,” Marin said, pushing the train’s throttle to full.
***
Jethro turned from his console and watched as Harlow, Capreze and Themopolous carried Bisby into the transport. “Jeezus, is he going to be alright?”
“I don’t know,” Themopolous answered, yanking down a bunk from the transport wall. “I cauterized the wound, but he lost a lot of blood.” Capreze and Harlow carefully placed Bisby in the bunk. The mech pilot groaned, sweat beading about his face. Themopolous pulled a chair close, opened her med kit and started to roll up her sleeve.
“Whatcha doin’, Doc?” Harlow asked.
“I’m the only one with his blood type,” she answered, swabbing her arm.
***
The transports came to a stop at the top of the ridge.
“Why haven’t they spotted us?” Archbishop Wyble asked.
“The geothermal vents below the surface are interfering with the sensors, Your Holiness,” Deacon Montoya responded. “It’s given us the element of surprise.”
“Good, Deacon, as it appears our new allies failed in destroying the pilots and their mechs,” Wyble said, placing binocs to his eyes and focusing on the Skinner corpses. “But, then no one would expect savages to be very effective.” He lowered the binocs. “We, however, are not savages. Take us down there, Montoya.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
***
Jethro turned away as Themopolous inserted the wide gauge needle into her vein. She set a container at her feet and let her blood fill it.
“Damn, Doc. That’s a bedside manner,” Jethro joked, trying to fight back nausea.
Harlow looked from Bisby’s ashen face to Commander Capreze’s sour expression. “What’s the plan, Commander? We’re down a mech pilot and without our allies. Still wanting to make a stand?”
Before the Commander could answer, Jethro gasped. “Holy Fuck! We’ve got company!” He turned to the others. “Rancher transports! Five minutes out!”
“Guess that answers that,” Capreze said, stepping past Harlow.
***
“Yo, Jethro!” Jay called over the com.
“Yeah, Boss?” Jethro responded.
“Looks like you have quite a few hostiles heading your way!
“Yeah, we just picked them up,” Jethro responded. “I’m losing my touch. I should have adjusted better for the geothermal interference.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, boy? These aren’t anywhere near you.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“The deader army and UDC transports coming right at you. We’re going to over take them and try my new toy on a bigger scale, but you folks should think about moving.”
“Oh, that’s fucking great,” Jethro grumbled.
***
Capreze climbed the leg of Bisby’s mech, quickly reaching the cockpit.
“Um, what the hell are you doing?” Harlow yelled up at the Commander, having followed him from the transport.
“Getting ready for battle,” he answered nonchalantly. “We were down a mech pilot. We aren’t anymore.”
Harlow tapped her com. “Hey, Rache? You wanna talk some sense into your father?”
Rachel laughed. “You kidding? He’s already in the fucking mech! You honestly think he can be talked out?”
Bisby’s mech took two steps back and then stumbled slightly forward. “Sorry,” Capreze apologized. “It’s been a while.”
“Fucking classic,” Harlow muttered.
***
“Um, Commander?”
“Not now, Jethro, I really need to concentrate on getting my mech legs back,” the Commander said.
“Yeah, well, Jay just commed. We’ve got a deader army not far behind the Ranchers, sir.”
“Shit,” Capreze swore. “How many?”
“At least 100,000, sir.”
Capreze powered up his weapons while watching Harlow settle into her cockpit. He turned his attention on Rachel, seeing his daughter bouncing her mech from one foot to the other in anticipation of the coming battle. “Get out of here, Jethro. We’ll hold off the Ranchers, you just get Themopolous and Bisby a safe distance away.”
***
“Are the Disciples ready for glory, Montoya?” Archbishop Wyble asked, strapping body armor on over his robes.
“Yes, Your Holiness. All transports have reported they are ready to release their Disciples on your order.”
“Wonderful. Tell them to anoint the damned mechs at their discretion.”
“Yes, Your Holiness,” the Deacon said. “I have transferred our weapons control to your seat, Your Holiness. I assumed you would want to experience the glory of this battle first hand.”
“Delightful assumption, Montoya! You know me so well!” Having secured his body armor, the Archbishop returned to his seat and activated the weapons systems.
***
“Doc? I’m gonna have to ask you to strap in,” Jethro said as he readied the transport for evac. “We’re bailin’.”
“What about the others? If they get wounded, they’ll need me,” the Doctor said, securing the blood dripping into Bisby’s arm.
“If they get wounded then it’s already too late,” Jethro responded. “It’s about to get very hairy around here and a non-combat doctor, one armed mech pilot and wheelchair bound mechanic are just going to get in the way. Trust me, Doc, we need to put some distance between us and the shit that’s about to go down.”
***
Timson stepped into the engine control room. “I’ve got my best medic checking on your pilot and the Boiler boy,” he said to the Rookie. “They’re each dehydrated and pretty banged up, but should be fine.”
“Good to hear,” the Rookie responded. “They’re both lucky to be alive.”
“Um, aren’t we pushing it a little hard?” Timson asked, noticing the throttle position. “What’s the hurry?”
“About 20 minutes from the tale end of a deader army,” Marin answered. “We’re gonna test the disc’s full capabilities.”
“Are the tracks clear?” Timson asked, alarmed. “Because at this speed it’ll suck to crash.”
***
“Let’s go say hello,” Capreze said over the com. “No need to wait here.” With that he piloted his mech into a dead run towards the Rancher transports.
“Right there with you, Papa Bear,” Rachel called. “Let’s send these wasteland fucknuts to the Glory they so desperately want!”
Harlow shook her head and piloted her mech after them, weapons system at full. “This is just great,” she said.
“What’s that?” Rachel asked.
“Now I have two fucking Caprezes to look after!”
The Commander’s mech stumbled again, toppling and rolling to a stop.
“Sorry!” Capreze shouted. “I’ve got this.”
Harlow sighed.
***
“All transports full stop!” the Archbishop commanded as he watched Capreze’s mech fall. “What are they playing at, Montoya?”
“I’m not sure, Your Holiness,” the Deacon answered. “It may be some sort of diversionary tactic. Could there be more mechs about? Maybe they have other allies we are not aware of. It is hard to say with the sensor interference.”
The Archbishop thought for a moment. “Send out three transports. Let’s see if they have a trap ready to spring.”
“Yes, Your Holiness,” Montoya said, sending the orders. The three closest transports sped out towards the mechs ready for battle.
***
“We’ve got incoming!” Harlow yelled. “Get your ass off the ground, sir!”
Capreze stood his mech upright and took a moment to center himself. He slowly flexed his fingers then made a fist with each mech hand. He tried a couple of practice jabs followed by a right upper cut. “Okay, I still got it.”
Four RPGs flew past his cockpit towards the onrushing transports
“Them’s some good moves, Papa Bear, but there’s an easier way than the old one-two,” Rachel said, trying not to laugh.
The transports initiated counter measures, taking out the RPGs.
“You were saying?” Capreze mocked.
***
“Well done, Montoya, well done,” Archbishop Wyble commended the Deacon. “Please pass that on to the other transports.”
“Yes, Your Holiness,” Montoya responded. “How shall we retaliate?”
“Hmmm… I believe they haven’t seen our plasma guns. Let’s show them, shall we?”
“Wise choice, Your Holiness,” the Deacon said. “I’ll coordinate the others.”
Montoya
activated his com and sent instructions to each of the other transport drivers. He tapped at his console and readied the guns. “Just awaiting your orders, Your Holiness.”
The Archbishop stared out the windshield at the charging mechs. “Teach them about power, Deacon.”
“With pleasure,” Montoya grinned.
***
“What the fuck are those?” Harlow called over the com as four small cannons per transport became active. “They look like little plasma cannons.”
The cannons began to fire rapidly, sending small bolts of plasma at the mechs.
“Shit! They are plasma cannons!” Harlow yelled, tucking her mech into an evasive roll.
She positioned her transition from roll to leap so that she landed her mech directly in front of one of the transports, bringing her left foot down on the front, smashing the driver and anyone in the transport’s cockpit into a pulp. She ground down for good measure.
***
Two plasma bolts found their mark, knocking Capreze’s mech onto its back. The Commander shook his head and assessed the damage. “Damn! That was exhilarating!” Confident all systems were go, Capreze kicked back upright, ducking and dodging more blasts as he charged the closest transport.
Reaching the transport, Capreze lashed out, swiping two of the plasma cannons from the transport’s side. He threw a right hook, punching a hole in the armor plating. Instantly zombies streamed from the transport’s hold and clambered up his mech’s arm.
“Ahhh! They’re like ants! Get ‘em off!”
Capreze heard Rachel laughing over the com.
***
Wyble growled. “They are not impressed, Montoya.” The Archbishop stood and grabbed the com. “All transports! Anoint the battlefield. Loose the Disciples upon the heathens! I want chaos! I want anarchy! We will have victory over these mech devils or I will personally make sure every last one of you knows the shame and damnation of a head shot! You will never attain the Glory of becoming a Disciple!”
Wyble threw the com handset towards Montoya, forcing the Deacon to duck.
“Oh, quit your flinching! That threat includes you, Montoya! You had better start acting like one of God’s warriors!”
***
“Holy fuck! Where do they keep all that shit?” Rachel shouted as the Rancher transports sprayed gallon upon gallon of blood and offal at the mechs and upon the wasteland ground. “I mean Jeezus, that’s just wrong!”
