Against the Eldest Flame (Doc Vandal Adventures Book 1)

by Dave Robinson

  The snake pulled its neck back, meeting Doc’s eyes with its soulless gaze. Time seemed to slow down as it dislocated its jaw. Saliva glistened between its upper and lower jaws. He struggled to reach his pistol, ripping his arm open on the scales of its belly. His hand closed around the grip, but he wasn’t going to make it in time.

  The snake’s head exploded, spattering his face with cool blood. A gunshot rang in his ears as he strained to keep the snake from crushing him in its death throes. The body spasmed around him, its scales slicing through his shirt and skin; leaving behind thin bloody trails of pain. Doc gritted his teeth, and rode out the contractions trusting his muscles to protect his ribs.

  When the body finally shuddered to a stop, Schmidt stepped into view, a Luger held loosely in his hand. He looked worse than before, with his skin stretched over his skull, and a faint scent of ash rising from his body. “Release the weapon.”

  Doc looked at Schmidt and relaxed his hand, ignoring the snake wrapped around him. Schmidt drew a knife and sliced the gun away from Doc’s belt, letting it clatter to the floor. He looked Doc over, then tried to cut the amulet from around his neck. The chain held, so Schmidt ripped it up over Doc’s head. The revenant gave it a cursory glance, before stuffing it in a pocket of his tunic.

  “Get up.”

  Doc slowly wriggled his way out from the snake’s coils. His left arm was useless now, but Schmidt kept a wary eye on him the whole time, staying just far enough out of reach that Doc couldn’t have reached him even if he was fully healthy.

  “Now what?” Doc asked mildly. “I don’t imagine you’re planning to shoot me here, are you.”

  “No. Had the choice been mine I would have waited to dispatch the snake until after it had killed you. Unfortunately for my wishes, my Master has other ideas.” Schmidt gestured up the tunnel. “After you.”

  Doc nodded, then turned and began walking up the tunnel. If nothing else, at least he was going to make it to the cavern.

  #

  Vic gathered the Chief, Kehla, and Gus in a small building just outside the landing field. Jevan, Gilly and the rest waited a short distance behind. Their target was floating a good hundred feet above the field, moored to a stone tower. For the moment everything looked calm. Two lines trailed aft from just ahead of the third, Caesar, turret. All three main guns were trained fore and aft, and there was no one visible in any of the machine gun blisters. All six propellers were still, which surprised Vic until she realized there was no real wind worry about in the caldera, so the guy lines could handle it all.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Kehla asked, looking at Vic. “I don’t see running for the boarding hatch as an option.”

  “Give me a moment, I’m thinking.” A closer look at the mooring showed Vic a small gangway running from the tower to the nose of the airship and everything fell into place. If it was as lightly crewed as it looked, there should be no problem drawing everyone forward. If the defenders didn’t bite, then maybe they could overrun them before they noticed; the Chief and his people were that fast.

  “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.”

  Vic gestured the others closer. “The Chief and I are going to lead a group up through the tower; we probably can’t take the ship, but we can at least get their attention. Kehla, you and Jevan take your four around the rear and come up the guy lines. If we’ve got their attention, you should have the advantage of surprise.

  “Gus, you’re with me, and stay back.”

  Gus drew himself up. “Why am I with you, and not them of my people?”

  “Yes,” Kehla said, glaring at Vic. “Why do my people get to climb up the rope?”

  “Because you’re the only ones who can.” Vic looked at the Chief, at Kehla, and finally at Gus. “None of the Chief’s lot can reach above their heads.” She looked at the dinosaur and shrugged. “Sorry, Chief but it’s true.”

  He nodded with his usual aplomb.

  “As for Gus here.” She jabbed over her shoulder at Kehla’s group with her thumb. “I’d love to leave him with you; but after a day and a night chained to a Saint Andrew’s Cross, I don’t think he’d make it any further up the line than the Chief. With my luck, I’d be the one having to clean him off the field and I really don’t want to do that.”

  Kehla grinned. “I see your point.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  “Good, and he’d better keep an eye on you -- but not so much that you both get cross-eyed.”

  Vic laughed. “Good to know.”

  “My people and I are ready when you are,” the Chief said.

  “We’ll try to get to at least the forward blisters so we can give you covering fire,” Vic told Kehla, “but I can’t guarantee it.”

  “Better than being eaten,” the Chief added.

  “I guess,” Kehla muttered, “you’re not the one climbing the wire.”

  The Chief held out his arms.

  “Point taken.” Kehla chuckled. “Once we get up, we’ll take the blisters after the ship is cleared.”

  Vic just shook her head. “Enough talk, let’s go before the bad guys figure out where we went.”

  Gathering her small group, she led them out towards the near end of the field. The streets were quiet for the moment, but they kept to the shadows anyway. The white moss crunched under Vic’s feet, reminding her of the strangeness of the situation, but for the most part she could ignore it. At least, she could ignore it as long as she didn’t look back at her cohorts. Attacking a Nazi airship with dinosaurs and gorillas wasn’t an everyday thing even for her. At least her troops looked lethally efficient, holding their spears with practiced ease.

  “You wouldn’t have an extra?” Vic asked the Chief. Sure she had a club, but she didn’t fancy getting in close against a gorilla eveen so. She was strong for a woman, very strong, but that wouldn’t count for much against a full grown gorilla.

  “Have mine.” The Chief raised one of his legs to show an almost six-inch claw. “You need it more than I do.”

  “Well, those claws wouldn’t go with my boots.”

  The dinoasur’s soft caw reminded Vic of nothing so much as a chuckle.

  Once they got closer to the tower, Vic started looking for guards, but didn’t see any. The tower was one of two growing up from a circular dome, measuring about forty and a hundred and twenty feet respectively. A band of windows circled the dome at the Chief’s eye level, ending in a pair of double doors.

  Vic looked over her shoulder, and was surprised to see that the Chief and his warriors were almost invisible against the moss. Their plumage blended beautifully into the undergrowth. Just how old was this city anyway? From the condition of the buildings she’d say it was younger than New York, but it felt older than Giza.

  Taking a deep breath, she waved the dinosaurs forward. They scuttled across the moss in near silence, their clawed feet sending up small clouds of dusty spores.

  Once they were in position, she glanced back at Gilly and Gus, then crouched down to run towards the door. Pain stabbed from her palm, and for a moment she thought she would black out. Still she gritted her teeth, and dashed across the street.

  Safely hidden from anyone inside by the closed door, Vic inched her way sideways toward the center. Noticing Gilly was in position behind the other door she caught his eye. With a series of economical hand gestures she gave him her plan: He was to pull his door open for her slip in, followed by the dinosaurs. He and Gus were to bring up the rear.

  Vic held up a fist, and pumped it three times. Gilly pulled on his door and she rolled into the guard shack as it creaked open, holding her spear sideways like an axle. Vic barely noticed the hardness of the stone floor as she kept moving, swinging the spear forward to take advantage of her momentum.

  The guard must have heard the door open because he was already turning to face her; his right hand clawing at his sidearm. Brown eyes went wide as she drove the spear into his throat right above the collar. The dying gorill
a reached for the spear, snapping it as his lifeblood gurgled out of the wound.

  Vic stared at the broken spear haft for a moment, then raised her eyes to see another brown shirt charging towards her. He was even bigger than the first, and already had his pistol out. Without thinking, she dove for the the first guard’s gun, throwing herself behind his body but knowing she wouldn’t make it in time.

  Somehow she made it, dragging the pistol backwards out of its holster with her right hand. Vic worked the Walther around and rolled onto her back, ready to fire.

  Blood dripped from a razor-sharp claw that flashed over her head as the Chief finished gutting the brown shirt. “You did need it more than I did.”

  Wordlessly, she nodded as the blood dripped off the claw in slow motion. By the time Vic was back on her feet, the rest of her group had joined them in the dome. There had been three brown shirts in the room, all young males. Vic held onto the pistol she had taken, a Walther PPK with the trigger guard crudely sawn off to accommodate a gorilla. A quick search through his belt gave her two more magazines, which Vic stuffed in her pocket.

  “Up we go.” Vic led the way towards a circular stair with long low risers. It was hard to get a rhythm going, and she found herself alternating two steps then one on the stairs. Gus was already winded, and his short legs made the climb even worse. The Chief, on the other hand, was having no problem at all. His stride matched the steps perfectly.

  Finally, they reached the landing stage and there was no one there. A thin gangway ran from the tower to a hatch in the nose of the airship. Up close, Vic could feel the threat of its size, six hundred feet of menace, with three massive turrets mounted on the underside. The open hatch reminded her of a mouth waiting to swallow them whole.

  Vic shivered, then took a glance out over the city. The brown shirts were coming back; marching in a tight column towards the airfield. There was never enough time. Kehla was at the the base of the guy line, and Vic waved her forward. It was a risk, but with the column on the way there wasn’t enough time for anything else.

  Holding her commandeered pistol out in front, she led the way along the gangway into the belly of the beast.

  As they moved into the airship, Vic swept her eyes from side to side. There was the normal metallic tang of an airship interior, but with another scent underneath. A sweet smell, with an undertone of rot that hadn’t been there earlier. Even the ventilation fans were quiet, as if the ship itself was dead. Reflexively, she gripped her Walther more tightly, cutting her finger where the trigger guard had been removed.

  Vic led off down the companionway. For all the size of the airship she felt claustrophobic, even though she knew an old-style hydrogen ship would have been even more cramped. At least the lights were on, even though they were very dim. Vic checked each hatch as they came to it, but so far all the compartments had been empty. After a hundred feet or so, the companionway opened up into a larger compartment with three ship ladders heading up, and another heading down. Two hatches led outwards, toward the skin.

  The air was hot and oppressive, tasting of death; Vic heard nothing but her own people behind her. It was like exploring a ghost ship without the ghosts. Furtively, she rubbed her palms on the side of her pants, leaving patches of sweat. Where was everyone?

  From what she’d seen, the upper ladders led to the machine gun blisters, and the side hatches to the engine pods. The main structure of the ship would be below, serving as a reinforced keel providing attachment points for the engines and main guns.

  Without hesitating, Vic headed for the down ship ladder, towards the control cabin. Not wanting to expose her back to anything below, she slid down the handrails facing out into the compartment, and then moved away from the ladder, looking for targets.

  This time, she found one.

  A zombie looked up the moment Vic’s feet hit the deck the compartment. Still dressed in naval uniform, it was leaning over a map table, a thick pencil in one hand. Her hand came up and once the front sight covered its ear she stroked the trigger. The back of its head exploded as the shot echoed through the compartment. With the gunshot still ringing in her ears, she took a step sideways in case it returned fire.

  Her target collapsed, but as the ringing faded from her ears it was replaced by footsteps. Another zombie appeared, coming up the companionway from the control cabin. Vic fired again, hitting the shoulder this time. The zombie roared but kept coming.

  Another shot, this time in the head, dropped this zombie. Vic risked a glance behind for reinforcements, but there was no one there. Thuds and gunshots from above explained why. She backed up against the ship ladder just as two more zombies appeared, this time from the far end of the compartment. Two more shots took them down, and then a hand reached through the ship ladder and grabbed her shoulder.

  Vic screamed, pulling herself forward as nails raked her shoulder, shredding right through her shirt. The scratches burned, but she ignored the pain, twisting herself around to put a round through her attacker’s head. This one didn’t drop, and her pistol locked back on an empty magazine.

  “Damn it!” Vic cursed as she backed away from the zombie, fumbling for the magazine release. The empty magazine fell away and she dug in her pocket for one of the full ones.

  Something hugged her from behind just as she drove the magazine home. It tried to bite her neck, a foul parody of a vampire. Vic jammed the muzzle of her pistol in its eye socket and fired. Rotting flesh flew everywhere, but the zombie’s arms didn’t let go.

  The other zombie shuffled towards her, half its head blown away. Blood dripped from her shoulder as she wrestled one arm free and finally got another shot away. This one took out the rest of its head and it crumpled to the deck.

  Vic shuddered, then slowly twisted out of the zombie’s embrace, trying not to breathe too deeply. The noise above had diminished, so she took a chance and looked around the compartment. Keeping her pistol firmly in her grasp, she took a closer look at the zombies she had killed, or was it destroyed? Vic usually left those kinds of questions to Gus or Doc, they were more interested in fiddly little details.

  She wasn’t an expert, but they looked to be in pretty bad shape, even for zombies. Whatever had been used to animate them hadn’t done much for preserving the bodies. The hatch heading aft led to the crew quarters, galley, and other things that didn’t matter much at the moment.

  “Everything all right down there?” Gus’s voice was a welcome relief.

  “It’s fine, I’m just about to head down to the control cabin.”

  “We’ll be right down.”

  Leaving any cleanup work to the others, Vic headed to the remaining ship ladder. Once again she took the fast way down, sliding down the rails, and landing with a bump. As she hit the deck, she flexed her knees and then turned to face the front. The control cabin was empty without even a single watch-stander. Keeping her pistol raised, she turned slowly around the compartment, keeping an eye out for movement.

  There was none.

  The door at the rear of the cabin was open and Vic shuffled in that direction. Two feet poked out from an open hatchway a few yards down the companionway. Her back against the bulkhead, she crab-walked up to the door and swung out, to face into the compartment. It was unoccupied.

  A body lay half-way into the room. Unlike the zombies Vic had seen, this one wore the uniform of a Kriegsmarine officer. From the way his head was lying, it looked like something had snapped his neck and left the body where it lay. Wanting to explore further, she stepped over the body and into the cabin. The compartment was almost as small as the one they had held her in earlier; barely large enough for the bunk, a small safe, and a desk with a bank of speaking trumpets running across the top. What caught her eye were the papers strewn across the desk. That was more how she would have left the desk, not a fastidious German naval officer.

  The papers themselves were a collection of orders and dispatches typed on very thin paper and addressed to Fregattenkapitan Heuss of the Heinri
ch Rotte ZL-38.

  You are hereby ordered to proceed at best speed to the City of the Flame where you will place yourself and your ship at the disposal of StandartenFührer Schmidt of the SS in his mission to capture and transport the enemy of the Reich James Vandal to the City.

  It is of vital importance to the Reich that Vandal be handed over to the City of the Flame.

  After Vandal is turned over, you are to transport the representative of the City of the Flame to Berlin for personal talks with the Führer.

  Raeder/OKM

  Heil Hitler!

  Vic carefully folded the paper and slipped it into her pocket, then turned and left the cabin. All the zombies were down, now they had to get Doc out of whatever hole he’d dug himself into this time.

  “Gilly, get those propellers spinning,” she yelled as she entered the control cabin. The engineer nodded vigorously and headed down the companionway, waving at Jevan to follow.

  The chatter of machine guns told her that Kehla had reached the blisters and was keeping the brown shirts away from the foot of the mooring tower. From her position near the pilot’s station, Vic had a perfect view ahead and below. The white moss was brown with what looked like almost a whole regiment of brown shirts charging across the field. Most had at least rifles, and a few were carrying machine guns. ZL-38 might have more and bigger guns, but not enough people to fire them.

  “Gus, how long before we can cast off?”

  “It depends on how quickly Gilly can get the engines started,” Gus replied. “It’s calm enough that we should be able to cut loose once we have two engine pods going, though I would prefer four.”

  “I would prefer all six,” Vic said, dropping into the port side helm seat. “I just don’t think I’m going to get them.” A quick scan of the instruments told her the ship was almost dead in the air, with the instruments and lighting running on battery power. Most of the controls were familiar; except for two banks of six piano keys, three black and three white, under a raised cover marked Raketen, flanking the control panel.