Eximus

by Marcus Wearmouth

  Eximus

  Also by Marcus Wearmouth

  First Activation

  Second Activation

  Essence

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

  The names, characters and story portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination or used have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Independently Published

  Edited by Tori Bramah

  Copyright © Marcus Wearmouth 2017

  Marcus Wearmouth asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission.

  Cover art by Exit Studios

  www.enterexit.co.uk

  ISBN 9781549680298

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  This novel is (currently) fiction...

  Chapter 1

  Thick snowflakes swirled in the night sky, blown by an icy wind that seemed determined to chase everyone back inside. Crouched with her back against an armored patrol vehicle, Major Avery balanced a ruggedized flexi screen on her knee. It pictured a live drone feed of the developing riot in Niagara Square, Buffalo.

  The rioters were moving in kaleidoscope patterns, multiplying and dividing like bacteria. Small fires dotted the square with a muddy glow, their heat attracting clusters in amongst the wild group. Rumbling voices from hundreds of demonstrators added sound to the images. Like a rolling thunder, punctuated by screams, shouts and even occasional singing.

  Avery wiped her screen again. Even with kevlar protection and an unbreakable graphene screen, it was a poor replacement for HUD glasses.

  She gestured towards her second in command, Captain Jason Skillet. He immediately ran in a half crouch towards her. His wolf-like grey eyes matched a tight mouth, turned down at the corners in the permanent grimace. A look that he wore on duty then took off like a uniform at the end of the shift.

  “It’s turning nasty,” she said.

  Skillet crouched next to her, his face only inches from her own, hot sour breath fogging in her face. “This crowd won’t hold once the Sonic Weapon deploys.”

  Avery looked down at the screen then shook her head. “ETA on the Sonic is still sixty five minutes. Parameters for engagement have been reached. I’m ordering starburst launch.”

  Skillet narrowed his eyes but nodded an acknowledgement.

  “I want Delta in position ready to engage.”

  “On it.”

  Skillet ran towards Delta squad, shouting orders, leaving her to watch his back.

  “Zero Alpha, this is Zero,” she said, into a helmet microphone. “Standby to engage centre of crowd mass. Single Starburst warhead, November Lima effect.”

  She focused the drone view towards a group of thugs rattling and kicking at street lights and road signs. They wore a mismatch of dark headgear and hoods - some with scarves wrapped around their faces - milling around an office block and probing for weaknesses with boots, bats and bricks.

  Another distinct group pushed past them into the square, a group of eleven figures clutching steel machetes. They wore Santa face masks and matching red coats with fluffy white collars and cuffs. Their white bearded faces and rosy red cheeks glittered amid the angry mob.

  They streamed through the parting crowd like crimson adrenaline shots, gesturing and pointing towards the line of APVs. Eleven swelling assaults each led by a Santa, snaked towards Avery’s defensive line. Their followers smashed up street furniture and dug up chunks of concrete for artillery.

  Behind the APV line, a Sergeant crouched ten yards to her right. His lips pursed in concentration as he fingered the launcher control panel. He turned a jagged smile towards her and tapped his microphone. “Starburst is live and locked. Standing by, over.”

  Avery double-checked her screen. Crowd control barriers stretched across the Square’s north and south entrances. Ten armored vehicles formed a line in front of City Hall. The units positioned to stop, engage and disperse the mob.

  Waves of surging rioters were gathering a critical mass, roaring and rolling towards their position. An almost euphoric atmosphere accompanied their enraged violence. Individuality replaced by a group consciousness, whipped up and directed by Santa dressed thugs.

  “Zero Alpha, fire Starburst,” she ordered.

  “Roger Zero, firing,” the reply crackled in her ear. The operator lifted a clear shield on the tripod housing and pressed the button beneath. Avery squeezed her eyes shut to protect night vision, as a Starburst Riot Control Missile blasted from the launch tube. A stench of rotten eggs wafted towards her from the weapons base.

  At the sight of the weapon launch, the crowd noise dropped to whispers. A thousand people stopped to inhale, all looking upwards, waiting to see what had been fired. Rioter targets lit up on her screen as the warhead’s heat seeking sensors locked on.

  The missile exploded and fifty anti-personnel bomblets shot downwards. On screen, trails of white smoke dropped towards the crowd.

  The Starburst landed like a giant hand and flattened a section of the riot mob. Bomblets splattered their targets with a bright-red liquid on impact. Viscous fluid clung to clothing and exposed skin, emitting a disabling electrical charge. As the targets writhed on the floor, their heat patterns flared to bright white.

  For a moment there was silence. It would either rile them up or send them packing. Avery held her breath, hoping for the latter. At the crowd’s front edge, eleven red piles of abandoned jackets and masks remained. The Santa’s were gone.

  An ear-splitting noise erupted from the square. Shouting, screaming and wailing. A rain of debris began landing in their enclosure. Metallic impacts against the APV vehicles confirmed it was going to be a long night.

  Behind the shielded vehicles, Delta squad formed organized ranks. Sixty armed and armored troopers, shields lifted to deflect wood, brick and metal ‘rain’, clunking on the kevlar and rolling around them. Sporadic glances towards her confirmed they were fired up and ready.

  “Zero, this is Control.”

  Before answering, Avery scanned the screen to ensure each squad was in position. Charlie and Foxtrot were marked with red dots and fortified the north and south access roads. Supporting their position to the rear, the green dots of Alpha fanned out behind City Hall. On the rooftops of surrounding buildings, blue dots marked Bravo positions as they provided overwatch covering fire.

  “Zero receiving,” Avery replied.

  “Proceed with Maximum Riot Dispersal Effect. Confirm over.”

  Control wanted casualties. A warning to others — stay at home. Avery’s skin prickled up to her neck. “Control, this is Zero.
Confirm Maximum Riot Disbursement, over?

  “Repeat, go weapons free for MRD. Lethal Force authorized, I say again, Lethal Force authorized. Close this crowd down now. Acknowledge. Over.”

  “Roger that, implementing MRD. Out.”

  She pointed in signal for Skillet to form Delta into ranks and prepare for action. He replied with a tight smile and nod of his head.

  “Zero Alpha, this is Zero, prepare double Starburst engagement,” Avery said. Target one is central north flank of crowd and Target Two is central south flank. Sending engagement footprint now, over.”

  “Roger Zero.” The Sergeant made a small fist pump before punching in the weapon protocols. If he had any mixed emotions about using lethal force on civilians, he didn’t show it. He rocked his head from side to side as he worked and Avery made a mental note to hose him down when this was over.

  “Zero, double MRD Starburst engagement, live and locked, standing by, over.”

  Once again, Avery checked field positions. Making sure her unit were well outside the engagement envelope. Her orders were clear for MRD. That didn’t mean she would enjoy watching what was about to happen.

  “Zero Alpha, fire on targets, over.”

  “Roger Zero, targets one and two, firing now.”

  Starburst bomblets plummeted through the falling snow. The crowd howled like a speared beast and its mass began to fragment at the rear. Running and stumbling over each other in a rush to get clear.

  Avery adjusted her screen image to focus on six thugs dressed in Jeans and T shirts despite the cold. They were trying to hoist each other up to the top of the APVs, their attempts failing without a good handhold to pull themselves up. Two of the group began smashing long steel poles against one vehicle, beckoning others to help.

  “Delta designate, launch scatter grenades,” Avery ordered.

  “Roger that Zero.”

  “APV one-five and APV one-six - long count, fifteen, then make a hole. Delta prepare for contact,” Avery said.

  There were loud popping sounds as grenades exploded and smoke began to rise from within the crowd. Two vehicles in front of the Delta column began rolling away, exposing a breach. Shields up, the front rank smashed into the rioters. Shields met bodies with a muffled impact. Delta opened out into two ranks, interlocking shields then driving forward.

  The crowd resistance faltered then broke at the shield wall, scattering the rioters. One large group abandoned their placards and improvised weapons to flee along Court Street. It was a typical sobering wake up call for a riot mob. Most of these people would normally cross the street to avoid each other. Now in need of support, they each found themselves looking at dangerous strangers.

  Delta moved forward as one, enforcing a full retreat with an impenetrable wall of shields. Calculated openings in their line allowed a leak of rioters to break through. They met Delta reserves, who swarmed around and locked them down.

  Following at their rear, Avery walked into the square flanked by support staff. She scanned the open ground. Inert bodies splattered with red dye. Arms and legs splayed at worrying angles, like puppets with their strings suddenly cut. Dirty grey slush coated the ground. She caught a scent of smoke, from fires extinguished by trampling feet and falling snow.

  The shield wall pushed forward, past Delaware with little resistance. Avery sucked in breath to form her next order then her radio crackled into life. ‘Bravo two one, Contact’.

  “Bravo two one, report, over,” Avery said, scanning the rooftops for threats

  “Zero, Bravo two two. There’s some movement up h—”

  “Zero, this is Foxtrot two-two. We have been engaged. Ghosts at the south entrance.”

  Avery stopped and motioned her support staff back to their position behind the APVs. She scanned the snow covered square for dark cloaked figures. There were muzzle flashes from intermittent firing at the south entrance followed by a return of fire. This standard riot-control op was beginning to look like a trap. She knew only stories about Ghosts and had seen only grainy footage. They were terrorists the whole world feared. It didn’t make sense for them to be here.

  “All Bravo units, this is Zero,” Avery shouted. “Engage the Ghosts. Delta teams fall back.”

  An explosion threw Avery to the side. She bounced into the body of Skillet and they tumbled to the ground. Air was sucked from the square before rushing back in again. Her ears popped and she winced at a second explosive flash.

  Chapter 2

  Security lighting from the porch cast human shaped shadows in the hall, shifting up and down. As he approached, two figures moved behind the door’s stippled glass.

  He peered through the spy hole.

  Dr Rich Sarin and Caspar Outama stood wrapped in bulging coats and mitts. Rich knocked again then leant back towards Caspar, his breath fogging in the small porch as he spoke.

  No two people could be more opposite. Rich long and gaunt, Caspar round and stocky. Rich pale and completely bald, Caspar dark skinned, his thick black hair dotted with a piebald patch.

  Logan snatched the door open. “Get in.”

  They trudged inside, kicking snow onto the lacquered floor.

  Logan looked up both ends of the street. No lights on in other houses. Good. He pushed the door shut with a click.

  The gun in his pants pressed against his back as he leaned against the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Namaste,” Rich said, pulling off thick woolly gloves and rubbing his head with one hand. He smiled and held out his other hand.

  “Sorry to wake you.” Caspar said, in a voice much softer than Rich’s. Caspar wore round glasses in front of serious brown eyes. He looked in pain, his face tinged with grey and twitchy.

  “Go through to the kitchen, I’ll tell Cate you’re here.”

  He jogged up the stairs back to their bedroom.

  Cate sat upright in the bed, white quilt cover pulled up to her chin. “Who is it?”

  “Rich and Caspar. Not sure what they want.”

  “Your camping and shooting buddies show up in the middle of the night and that’s all I get?”

  Logan smiled at her. “Stay here, nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m coming down,” Cate said, pulling off the covers.

  “If there’s anything serious I’ll come and get you. Let me speak to them downstairs and I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  Cate narrowed her eyes but didn’t replace the covers. Logan was about to relent when their son, Gregor, wandered into the room. Without speaking he climbed onto their bed.

  Logan made an exaggerated shrug and backed away. Cate threw him a razor sharp stare, eyes like two slits.

  Rich and Caspar sat at the kitchen table, coats hanging off their chairs. A folded black flexi screen lay on the table, next to Caspar’s right arm. Rich’s hand brushed a small black case resting against his leg.

  Logan closed the kitchen door then drew curtains across the rear French doors. “Coffee?”

  “That’d be great,” Rich replied.

  “Water please,” Caspar said.

  Logan loaded pods into the machine, watching Rich and Caspar out of the corner of his eye. He tilted his head slightly to hear their sporadic whispering.

  He poured a glass of water and set it down in front of Caspar. “Okay, guys, what’s going on?”

  “Have you seen the news?” Rich asked. “There’s been a riot in Buffalo.”

  “Ah shit. This curfew is never going to end.”

  “Terrorists blew up the courthouse, opened fire on the crowd and soldiers.”

  Logan sagged and rubbed his face. “There goes my week. The plant will be on red alert.”

  Caspar gave a cough, lifted his water but set it back down without drinking. “We’re not here to talk about the riot.”

  “Sorry Caspar,” Rich said. “Thought he should know.”

  “You need to listen before you say anything else,” Caspar said. “What we’re about to say may seem far-fetc
hed.”

  Logan took two cups of steaming coffee and a tub of cookies over to the table. “I’m listening.”

  He pulled out his gun and rested it on the table beside him. Caspar raised an eyebrow, Rich’s eyes widened but he said nothing.

  “I’ll start at the beginning.” Caspar said. His intense brown eyes always seemed to interrogate, as if he understands more with his eyes than his ears. Tonight he looked tired, rubbing at a bruise on his jaw.

  “You okay?” Logan asked.

  Caspar waved away the question, his hand clutching a cookie. “The world as we know it is coming to an end.” He raised the cookie again to prevent a reply. “I know, I know that’s what all the crazies say.”

  “I got a call from an old buddy,” Rich said. “A guy who knows about these things.”

  “Have you been at the pharmacy supplies again?” Logan asked.

  Rich’s face twitched at the sarcasm. “It’s not what he said. It’s what he didn’t say.” He took a slug of coffee, grimacing at the taste. “Me and this buddy, we always shoot the breeze, joke about our latest news. You know how it is.” He held the cup in the air, ready to drink. “This time, he only said ‘find shelter’ then hung up.”

  Logan took his own sip of coffee, wishing it had something stronger in the mix. Rich was prone to fantasy especially about aliens and government conspiracy. But Caspar was level headed. What was he doing with Rich at this hour, talking about the end of the world?

  “Stay with us,” Caspar said. His water sat untouched on the table, cookie gripped between finger and thumb. “There’s going to be an almighty crash. Society will break down. Disease, starvation, and a complete loss of order. There’s so much unrest in the world at the moment and this is going to tip it over the edge.”

  “The nanos have stopped working,” Rich said. He drained his coffee then bent down and lifted the black case. He snapped open two clips then opened the lid. The chrome equipment inside was like an old fashioned telephone and key pad. “May I?”

  Logan nodded assent.

  Rich lifted the handle of the machine and held it towards him. Red lights blinked repeatedly through a glass aperture. “Your reading would normally be four point one.” He squeezed the trigger and held it for five seconds. There was an audible click then he pushed the case forward. Its digital display read zero point zero zero.