Dead Mech

by Jake Bible

  “Don’t let it get on you! It’s like a fucking deader magnet!” Harlow warned.

  “Yeah, too late for that!” Capreze responded, still plucking zombies from his mech. He threw them back at the transports, their rotten bodies exploding against the metal, adding more gore to the scene.

  At once all transports dropped their rear ramps and dozens of zombies poured forth from each.

  ***

  Jethro hit the throttle and the transport shot forward, away from the action. “How’s Biz doin’ back there, Doc?”

  “His color is improving. He needs another pint, but I don’t think I have it in me,” Themopolous responded.

  “Yeah, don’t kill yourself,” Jethro said, watching the rear vid feeds as the mechs engaged the Ranchers. “I do need you to do me a favor though.”

  “What’s that, Jethro?”

  “Four is still out in the waste. Now that I don’t need it to be my relay, we could really use the back up. I need you to bring it to us.”

  ***

  “We’re approaching the deaders,” Jenny announced, her eyes on the scanner. “ETA Five minutes.”

  “Alright. Masters?” Marin called.

  “Yeah. Whatcha need?” Masters responded.

  “When we hit the button, every zombie in our way will go down. We’ve got a laser cowcatcher in front that can handle the bodies. I need you to make sure there aren’t any transports on the tracks. Otherwise we are fucked.”

  “No problem,” Masters said.

  “What the hell is a cow?” the Rookie asked. The others stared at him blankly. “Boiler, remember? Education wasn’t a priority.”

  “The cow goes mooo, kid,” Masters jibed over the com.

  ***

  “How do you not know what a cow is?” Jay asked double checking the sonic disc’s systems.

  “Fuck you Rind!” the Rookie responded over the com. “I’ve heard of them, but no one has ever explained what they are.”

  “You’ve never seen a picture?” Jay asked, enjoying the ribbing the Rookie was getting. “Not even when you were in Foggy Bottom?”

  “I was more concerned with the fight cage than flipping through fucking picture books,” the Rookie said annoyed. “Have you ever seen one?”

  “Of course not! They’ve been extinct for hundreds of years. But I know what one is!”

  ***

  “They are in sight!” Jenny shouted.

  “Stay calm. Just keep your eye on the controls,” Timson said. “Jay, everything ready?”

  “Yep, just wait for my mark,” Jay responded.

  “Gotcha,” the Rookie said.

  “I’m out front and ready to clear some tracks,” Masters joined in.

  “We’ve been spotted. Several transports are turning about,” Jenny announced.

  “Don’t worry, we’re almost there,” Marin said.

  An alarm sounded and Jenny gasped. “They’re locking missiles!”

  “Jay? We’re kinda pushing it here!” Timson said urgently.

  “Just hold on! Wait for it… Wait… NOW!” Jay ordered.

  The Rookie activated the disc and they all felt the pressure.

  ***

  From his vantage point high above, Masters watched in astonishment as the sonic blast spread out and the deaders fell.

  “Hot damn!” he crowed. “I’m shooting you the vid feed. Check that out. I hope that cow catcher works, because the tracks are now littered with downed deaders.”

  “Oh, it works,” Marin responded. “You just take care of the transports.”

  In two easy strides, Masters/Stomper was at the first transport. The mech lifted the vehicle easily and tossed it out of the way, far into the wasteland.

  “Is this like playing with toys?” Stomper asked.

  “Hell yeah!” Masters responded enthusiastically.

  ***

  “So what am I doing?” Themopolous asked, sitting down at the mini-mech controls.

  “Really? Not a whole lot.” Jethro said. “Just watch the vid feed and make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

  “He?” Themopolous asked with a smile.

  “He. It. Whatever. I’m a mechanic. I anthropomorphize my toothbrush!”

  “So, what kind of trouble am I looking for?”

  “Mainly dead mechs, Ranchers or other UDC. If you see that then I need to take it out of auto-drive and put it into battle mode.”

  “It can fight on its own?”

  “Not well, it’s really just a prelude to self-destruct.”

  ***

  “Holy shit! I missed this!” Capreze hollered. “I forgot about the power!” He slammed his fist into another transport and opened fire with his plasma cannon, cooking everything inside, living and undead, to a crisp. “Fuck yeah!”

  “Careful there, Mr. Cocky,” Rachel warned. “Watch your backside. You’ve got two transports coming around at you.”

  Capreze lifted the scorched transport before him, spun and tossed the burning husk at the attacking transports. Both of the vehicles expertly swerved out of the way and accelerated. Capreze’s eyes widened as six missiles launched and rocketed towards him.

  “Um, a little help,” he pleaded.

  ***

  “Dammit Papa Bear!” Rachel cursed, trying to crush, burn and blast as many zombies as possible. “Get your shit together!”

  Capreze closed his eyes, centering his thoughts.

  “Papa Bear? You There?” Rachel called, concern tingeing her voice.

  “Yeah, Baby Girl. Just getting my shit together,” the Commander answered. “Remembering my place.”

  Capreze glanced at his weapons systems and grinned. “Did I ever tell you I was the best fucking shot in the wasteland when I was your age?”

  “Not sure this is the time for stories of the Old Days,” Rachel responded.

  “How about I show you then?” Capreze smiled.

  ***

  “Transfer weapons control to my seat, Deacon! Do it now!” Archbishop Wyble ordered. “I grow tired of these heathens!”

  “I have, Your Holiness,” Montoya responded.

  “Of course you did, Montoya,” Wyble said, settling himself and bringing up the transport’s weapons control system. “Now, let’s wreak glorious vengeance upon these devils.”

  The Archbishop activated missile targeting. He centered his crosshairs upon Harlow, took careful aim and fired.

  “Hallelujah!” he cried, watching the projectile speed towards its target. “And God said, ‘Let There Be Death!’”

  “He did, Your Holiness?” Montoya asked, confused.

  “I’m the Archbishop! God says whatever I say he says!”

  ***

  Proximity claxons blared in Harlow’s cockpit. “FUCK!” she yelled, watching the Archbishop’s missile rocket towards her. She kicked a handful of zombies at the missile, hoping to knock it off course, but they bounced off the metal shell without any effect. “Shit!”

  Looking for the closet transport, she pushed her mech as fast as she could, hoping that timing would be on her side. Plasma bursts impacted her mech’s exoskeleton adding new warning sounds to her cockpit’s already cacophonous alarms. The smell of scorched metal told her she took more damage than she liked, but she pushed past it, determined.

  ***

  “Um, Your Holiness?” Deacon Montoya warned. “The trajectory of the missile…”

  “Hush, Montoya! I am trying to savor the moment!” the Archbishop barked.

  “But, sir, the transport…” But, Montoya couldn’t finish as Wyble leapt to his feet and smacked the Deacon upside the head, knocking the man’s head back, making him lose control of the transport for a moment.

  “SIR?!? I AM THE ARCHBISHOP!” Wyble screamed directly into Montoya’s ear. “You will address me as such at all times!”

  The Deacon slowly reached up and rubbed his face, keeping his eyes averted. “My apologies, Your Holiness. The heat of battle.”

  ***

  Harl
ow leapt over the Rancher transport. She could hear her hydraulics groan as she executed an aerial spin, twisting her mech about, opening fire on the incoming missile with her 50mms. For a split second she thought she missed and was more alarmed at that mistake than of being blown to pieces. But, all thoughts of ego left her as the missile exploded when the large caliber rounds found their mark.

  She tucked her mech’s legs and rolled as she hit the ground on the other side of the transport, letting the Rancher vehicle shield her from the missile’s detonation.

  ***

  The Archbishop fumed as he watched Harlow manage to both avoid and detonate the missile he had fired. “That metal heathen will pay,” he hissed.

  “Your Holiness? We have four transports destroyed and two crippled,” Deacon Montoya reported reluctantly, expecting more of the Archbishop’s anger to be taken out on him.

  “What about our reinforcements?” the Archbishop asked angrily. “When can we expect them?”

  “Soon, Your Holiness, but they have been delayed.”

  “Delayed? Why in Heaven’s name would they be delayed?”

  “More mechs, Your Holiness. And Railers,” Montoya responded.

  “Railers? RAILERS?!? Train trash is holding up my glory?!?” Wyble roared.

  ***

  “Goddammit! They’re already up!” Jay yelled. “That was sixty seconds shorter this time! Sixty fucking seconds!”

  “Whoa, calm down, Jay,” Masters said. “They went down and that’s what matters. So the sonic frequency doesn’t blow their heads off. It does give us an advantage, though, right?”

  “Not if they’re adapting!” Jay responded angrily. “Sixty seconds! And these are different deaders! That means that their tech is adjusting, communicating, changing the physiology of their brains across the board. We’ll be lucky to have three or four more uses before the disc is useless.”

  “I’d rather have three than none,” Masters said.

  ***

  “Can they catch up?” Timson asked, watching the view of the deader army fade as the Railer train continued on.

  “No, not at their pace,” Marin answered. “They seem to only have one marching speed.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Timson said. “What’s our ETA on the other mechs?”

  “Not sure,” Jenny responded. “Readings are all over the place. We’re picking up some type of geothermal interference below us. Playing havoc with the scanners.”

  “The first letter in ETA is estimate,” Timson snapped. “Just give me something.”

  “Soon. How’s that for an estimate?” Jenny snapped back.

  “That works just fine,” Timson replied.

  ***

  Capreze watched as four of the RPGs he launched at the attacking missiles hit home. Metal and plastic rained down, littering the ground with smoldering debris.

  “That’s how that’s done!” he cheered, but he cut the celebration short as his sensors still picked up two incoming missiles.

  The moment the first one appeared he took it out with a perfectly timed plasma blast. Unfortunately it meant he didn’t have time to fire on the next missile, so he instinctively lashed out, punching the missile and changing its course, sending it directly into a Rancher transport.

  “And that’s how that’s done!”

  ***

  “Three more transports lost, Your Holiness!” Deacon Montoya announced.

  “And the Disciples? Are they not Holy enough to overpower the mechs?” the Archbishop asked enraged. “Does God not shine down upon us today or has the Devil himself ascended from Hell to aid these metal worshipping infidels?!?”

  “The Disciples have been destroyed, Your Holiness. I am sorry, but the mech pilots are trained for this. We are not.”

  “Coward! Defeatist!” Wyble raged slamming his fist down again and again. “I will have your tongue-“

  But Montoya never heard the rest as several 50mm slugs pierced the windshield and his body.

  ***

  Harlow cursed as her 50mms overheated, grinding to a halt. She stared out her cockpit at the transport she had just fired upon and readied plasma charges.

  Something inside the transport caught her eye and she took a moment to focus her vid on the driver before she tossed some hot death its way.

  “Son of a bitch,” she muttered as she watched Archbishop Wyble yank the corpse of Deacon Montoya out of the seat and take it himself. He glared up at the mech, his lips moving and his face read with anger.

  “Oh, you are mine,” Harlow sneered.

  ***

  Archbishop Wyble spat and screamed curses at the looming mech until his voice was hoarse. “You will not have the privilege of my demise!” he shouted while taking the transports controls. He whipped the ungainly vehicle about and sped away from the mech.

  “I am the Archbishop,” he continued. “I am the incarnation of the Father, the Son and the True Disciple upon this plane of existence! I will not be murdered by heathens! God will grant me the Glory to avenge his name! To war again another day!”

  He launched all missiles and fired all aft cannons at Harlow.

  ***

  Harlow moved like the wind. A 50-ton, infuriated wind.

  “FUCK YOU!” she bellowed, ducking past missiles and dodging cannon fire. She fired the last of her RPGs behind her, hoping they’d act as decoys for the missiles’ tracking. A cannon shell impacted in front of her and her mech shuddered, but she refused to slow, pushing through the concussion as she pursued the Archbishop’s transport.

  “Uh-uh! You’re not getting away today mother fucker!”

  She pumped her legs to their limits and quickly gained ground on the transport as she flexed her giant metal fists, ready to crush some Rancher ass.

  ***

  The Archbishop slammed his hands against the transport’s controls. “Move! Faster you hunk of evil!”

  He glanced at his rear vid feed showing the pursuing mech. His instruments indicated he was out of ammunition. He grabbed the com in frustration. “Who is still aboard?”

  “Um, just Quakenbush and myself, Your Holiness,” a tinny voice responded. “We already released the Disciples. The hold is empty.”

  “And who are you?” the Archbishop demanded.

  “Sweeten, Your Holiness.”

  “Well Sweeten, are you and Quakenbush ready for your honor and duty?”

  “Um, yes, Your Holiness,” Sweeten responded weakly.

  “Excellent. Open the rear ramp,” Wyble commanded.

  ***

  “What the hell?” Harlow said aloud as the transport’s rear ramp opened and two Ranchers stumbled down it, rolling to a stop on the ground as the transport never slowed.

  Harlow’s first intention was to stomp the ranchers into the ground, but the reflection of metal made her zoom in on the two men. She was glad she did as the vid revealed dozens of fractal grenades strapped to their bodies.

  The two men stared at her approaching mech, their mouths moving in silent prayer. As she neared, they both pulled the pins out of as many grenades they could.

  ***

  Quakenbush’s eyes widened as the mech leapt. He would never know the mech’s fate as his was sealed by the detonation of all 31 grenades secured to his trembling body.

  Harlow knew her timing would be close, so when the suicide Ranchers went off, she braced herself. Instantly her world flipped about, head over heels as the force of the concussions tossed her mech end over end.

  She landed on her knees, stumbled to her feet and grinned murderously, knowing she had been lucky. Her legs’ hydraulics protested though as she continued her pursuit.

  “I said not today, mother fucker!”

  ***

  “Where the fuck is she going?” Capreze yelled, watching the distance grow as Harlow continued her pursuit.

  Rachel sprang into the air, coming down feet first onto an oncoming transport, crushing the cargo area, nearly splitting the thing in two. She sent thousands of 50mm rou
nds inside to finish off whoever lived through the impact.

  “Have you tried her com?” she asked, kicking the smoking wreckage away.

  “Gee, didn’t think of that,” Capreze quipped. “Of course I did! She isn’t answering.

  “It may have been damaged. Want me to go after her?”

  “No. Stay here and clean up,” Capreze responded.

  ***

  Archbishop Wyble lashed out at the vid screen, his fist fracturing the screen and distorting the image of Harlow’s still pursuing mech. He looked about him, desperate to figure out some way to attack. Seeing nothing, he contemplated Martyrdom, but those thoughts were shoved aside as a proximity alarm echoed around him. Unfamiliar with the controls he scanned the panels, trying to find the source, but movement directly in the transport’s path made the search unnecessary.

  Maybe a quarter mile off, heading straight for him, was another mech. And Wyble could tell this one was a Demon, a dead mech.

  ***

  “Oh, you got to be shitting me!” Harlow swore, seeing the incoming deader. She wasn’t sure what angered her more: the fact that she now had a deader to deal with or the fact that the dead mech might reach Wyble first and kill the son of a bitch before she could.

  “Hey guys?” she called over the com. “We’ve got company. Something a little bigger and deadlier than those pussy ass Ranchers.”

  She was answered by static.

  “Um, guys?” Nothing. “Fuck! I’m going to kick Jethro’s ass for not building a better com system. This shit never fucking works!”

  ***

  Jethro monitored the chatter between Capreze and Rachel.

  “Everyone okay?” Themopolous asked.

  “Yeah, sounds like Harlow’s com’s out, though. I’m sure I’ll hear about that,” he responded. “How’s our little guy doing?”

  “Four is managing the terrain just fine,” Themopolous said. “Can I step away and check Bisby?”

  “You bet, Doc.”

  Themopolous got up from the mini-mech controls and walked back to Bisby’s unconscious form. The transport lurched suddenly and she almost toppled onto the wounded mech pilot. “Jeezus, Jethro! Careful-” She stopped immediately when she turned to berate the mechanic. Jethro’s body was slumped over the control panel. “Jethro?”