Alliance of Shadows (Dead Six Series Book 3)

by Larry Correia

  Then he said something I didn’t understand. It was in foreign language, Latin maybe? Pain, blinding pain, exploded behind my eyes, like I was suddenly beset with the worst migraine of my life. My legs went limp and I tumbled down the ramp. Ling shouted at me. I thought it was my name from the shape of her mouth, but I couldn’t hear her over the buzzing in my ears. She skidded to a halt, turned, and started back toward me.

  “Keep going!” I shouted, the struggling to force the words out of my mouth. “Don’t stop!” Please don’t stop. An image of Sarah flashed through my mind, cut down by gunfire as she came back for me.

  Ling did as I asked. She hesitated for only a moment, then turned and continued on, leaving me alone. Thank you.

  Struggling, head still pounding with pain, I grabbed the handrail and pulled myself up. Holding on for dear life, I struggled to get down the ramp without falling again. I was dizzy, I was nauseated, I could barely hear anything. I didn’t know what was happening, and it terrified me.

  Underhill kept talking over the PA. “That’s right. Just relax. Your time is done.” He said the gibberish word again, and the pain hit me with full force. It was like getting boxed in the ears. My knees buckled, and I fell down again. The pain in my head was unbearable. I thought I was having a stroke. I lay there, face down on the concrete, muscles twitching, in so much pain that I just wanted to die so it would stop.

  “That is the idea.” I could still hear a voice, only now it was the ghost of Dr. Silvers in my head. “The control phrase activates the emergency kill switch I have placed in your mind. If there is any hope that the project can be contained or salvaged, the phrase should not be used, for once it is utilized, there is no turning back. The subject is programmed to experience an immediate disintegration of his nervous system, so painful that he will willingly die to make it stop.”

  “No,” I hissed through gritted teeth. Silvers was gone, but she’d left something inside me. I couldn’t tell if her words were a memory or a hallucination.

  “Why aren’t you dead, Michael? I did this to you as a favor. You were always my most obstinate subject. I could have used this when you tried to escape, but I felt you were still salvageable. You are special, this unique bundle of psychological trauma, brain injury, and life experiences that left you perfectly suited for my program. The sad thing here is that when you give up, my life’s work will have been wasted.”

  I was blinking in and out of consciousness. My heart was beating so fast it was going to tear itself apart. I saw Sarah, and Hawk, and Hunter. Wheeler, Ramirez, then my mom, and everything Silvers had twisted up in my head was telling me to give up and join them. The pain got worse and worse, and more images flashed through my mind. Violence, suffering, death. So many dead faces, staring at me, judging me, damning me, screaming at me. I put my hands over my ears to make it stop, but I could still hear them.

  Then there was another voice, a clarion call amongst the chaos in my mind. This time I think it was an angel. She sounded just like Ariel. “You are stronger than they are, Michael. Calm yourself and fight.”

  I gasped for breath. My heart rate began to slow. The voices and the screaming faded. The Calm began to push back the pain. Reaching out with one shaking hand, I grasped the railing, held tight, and pulled myself upright. I was in control again.

  “The brief said that was supposed to have killed you dead, given you a stroke or something.” It was Underhill, and he was no ghost. My vision was still blurry, but I could make him out at the top of the ramp. “Hocus-pocus science project bullshit I told them. You can’t make better soldiers in a lab, but they wouldn’t listen. Guys like me and you, we’re forged in a crucible.”

  My eyes cleared up enough to see that he had a pistol pointed at me. It was a 1911 with a threaded barrel.

  “I beat her,” I told him. “I won.”

  “Good for you, kid. You gave me a hell of a chase too. I’m almost sorry this is over.”

  Now I could see with perfect clarity. I was so Calm that I saw his grip tighten as he lined up the sights and swiped off the safety.

  “This is your last chance,” he said. “Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head. I’m supposed to bring you back alive, but I’m not going to risk your getting away again.”

  My body moved slowly, so infuriatingly slowly, as my hand moved to my .44. I didn’t have time to aim. The instant the muzzle of my revolver cleared leather, I rocked it upwards, tucked my elbow against my body, and fired. The gun bucked in my hand.

  Underhill’s eyes widened as my bullet hit him in the stomach. The .45 barked and flashed as he lurched.

  His bullet smacked hard against my vest as I pushed the big Smith & Wesson outward. I brought my hands together. Underhill fired again. A hot burning pain slashed across the side of my neck, but I acquired a flash sight picture, focusing on the glowing green front sight as I aligned it higher on Underhill’s body.

  My .44 roared again, earsplittingly loud on the loading dock.

  I watched Underhill fall to the ground, slowly, gracefully, losing his grip on his gun. He landed unceremoniously on his back, and the pistol clattered off the ramp to the concrete below.

  I stood there for what seemed like a long moment, revolver extended in both hands, pointed up at Underhill. One deep breath and time seemed to return to its normal speed.

  The pain was gone. I could feel hot blood trickling down my neck, but I didn’t take my hands off of my gun. Muffled gunfire erupted from inside the building, punctuated by people shouting. I ignored it, kept my gun trained on Underhill, and approached slowly.

  The old man was still breathing. His breaths were short and ragged, punctuated by a gurgling sound. A dark red blot stained his button-down shirt. I’d shot him right through the upper sternum, just over the top of his vest. Some distant part of my brain thought, Hawk would be proud.

  I stood over Underhill for a few moments. He didn’t say anything. His eyes were focused on me, but his face looked eerily serene. He died doing what he’d been born to do. “I told you this would happen.”

  Underhill didn’t answer. He didn’t even try to move. He probably couldn’t. That bullet had probably shattered his spine.

  “Are you the best they’ve got? Is this it? How many of you sons of bitches do I have to kill before they leave me alone?”

  Underhill still didn’t answer. His ragged breathing slowed. The pool of blood under him expanded. I got closer until I was standing in the puddle, big, stainless steel revolver pointed at his face. He didn’t look scared. He looked perfectly calm.

  “That was for Hawk,” I said defiantly.

  Underhill didn’t respond. His breathing slowed a little more, then stopped. Just like that, he was gone. Then there was nothing. No satisfaction, no remorse, no adrenaline rush, no adrenaline dump. Just an old man dead on a loading dock of a train station in France.

  I lowered my gun. I realized then that I had blood trickling from my nose.

  LORENZO

  It was the quickest draw I’d ever seen.

  The old man had him dead to rights. Only Valentine had been faster. Way faster.

  Back on Saint Carl I’d talked some trash about being as fast with a pistol as Valentine was . . . Damn. Not even close. Valentine said something to the man I assumed was Underhill, and then left him there to die alone. Hawk would have been proud.

  “Valentine!” And since he looked really jumpy, I immediately added. “Hold your fire, it’s me.” He was standing near a big metal box on a cart. “Is that what I think it is?”

  He looked a little out of it, and had blood trickling from his right nostril. “Yeah.”

  Well, that was intimidating.

  “Where’s everybody else?” he asked.

  “Converging on those hangars like you said.”

  Before I had finished speaking, Valentine was running in that direction.

  I took one last look at the bomb. It seemed wrong to just leave it sitting there, like I should hang
a warning sign on it, do not touch, or something. Since all the law-abiding citizens in the station were fleeing for their lives now, I pulled my .45 before I went after him. Across the yard was the sleekest train I’d ever seen. In fact, it looked more like a spaceship than a piece of mass transit. Valentine hopped off the concrete platform and ran across tracks and gravel directly toward it. I went to the other side of the elevated tracks and jumped down too. At least there were a lot of shadows here.

  Antoine came over the radio. “They are loading the train. I am in position.”

  “Almost there,” Valentine said. “Wait for us.”

  Far ahead, I spotted a group of men standing on the platform by one of the futuristic cars.

  “Down,” I hissed at Valentine as I took cover behind a concrete barrier.

  They were dressed in contractor garb, cargo pants, vests, and ball caps. From the way they had their guns out and were nervously scanning, they had heard Valentine’s gunfire. One of them spoke into a radio, and a few seconds later a man came off the train, driving an empty cart. Behind him was a tall, blonde woman. She had her back turned, but the way she was supervising, that had to be Kat. Of course she needed to see her crowning achievement launched in person. One more person got off the train. Towering over Kat was the gigantic, unmistakable form of Anders. As Anders scanned for threats, I pulled back further behind the barrier.

  “I can no longer wait,” Antoine whispered over the radio.

  There were several security men visible, an unknown number out of view, and probably more still on the train, because Kat was the kind of awful person who would hire somebody to guard a cargo and not tell them it was going to explode. Not to forget Anders, who I’d seen in action in the Crossroads, where he’d been like the fucking Terminator, and Kat was still deadly as hell. I was no hero, but in a few seconds that train was going to leave, and if I let Kat blow up a city Jill would never let me hear the end of it. I’d already been lucky to survive one lopsided gunfight tonight, and unlike the men we’d surprised earlier, these were alert and ready for trouble. They were out of effective pistol range, so we’d have to get closer. I took a deep breath and crept around the barricade.

  Apparently Valentine had to do less soul searching, because he was already way ahead of me. I was close enough now to hear Kat shouting orders. The job was done. They were leaving.

  Antoine must have made a move. Only with a reaction time that rivaled Valentine, Anders spotted them, lifted a stubby black weapon from beneath this jacket, and fired. From the lack of noise, it was that same suppressed shotgun he’d used to shoot Jill.

  “Take them!” Valentine shouted as he took off running. I lost sight of him around the front of the engine.

  I was still a hundred yards away, which was too damned far to be shooting a .45, but I opened up on them anyway. I put the red dot on top of the closest man’s head, hoping that was sufficient holdover, and popped off a shot. There was either enough drop or wobble in my aim that I only hit him in the chest. The 230-grain hollow point made an audible slap against his concealed body armor. Most of the security guys weren’t well trained enough that they’d turned to see who Anders was shooting at, but of course the asshole covering my sector was a professional. He saw me, shouldered a subgun, and stated shooting.

  Bullets smacked into the concrete in front of me as I took a knee, leaned out, and cranked off a few more quiet shots. The shooters were breaking off and moving to cover. Anders was still shooting down the hall. In the middle of it all, Kat was standing there, actually grinning, like this was incredibly exciting, and she was having the time of her life. But then they started taking fire from the far side of the train, and Kat had to duck as bullets went whizzing past. I caught a glimpse of Skunky and Shen coming up the platform at the opposite end of the train. The man standing closest to Kat spun around as they nailed him.

  The security men opened up on them as Skunky took cover behind some construction equipment. Only they weren’t fast enough. I couldn’t tell where Skunky had gotten hit, but he just collapsed in a heap. Shen grabbed him by one arm and dragged him behind cover as bullets struck all around them.

  By the time I leaned out to shoot again, we’d broken them. Several of Kat’s men were out of the fight, and they were taking fire from three sides. They had nowhere to go except inside the train. The security men dragged their wounded into the train after her. Anders calmly walked backwards toward the door, still firing down the hall. I shot at him, but some stupid bastard stepped right in front of him and I clipped the guard instead. His head snapped back, flinging blood and brains all over my real target.

  Anders saw me. We locked eyes, and he knew I’d almost gotten him. But then that bastard was inside the train and out of my line of sight.

  The sudden lack of gunfire made it feel far too quiet. Then the radio chatter started.

  “Skunky is down,” Shen reported.

  “I’m hit,” Antoine gasped.

  The train started to move.

  It was shocking how fast it took off, and even worse, how remarkably fast it was building up speed. It was coming my way, but all I had was a pistol, which wasn’t anywhere near enough to stop a friggin’ train. Not wanting to get run over, I hurried and clambered up onto the platform. I took cover behind a pillar and watched helplessly as the engine floated by, then the first car, but then the second was filled with scumbags who blew out the windows trying to murder me, and I was too busy trying to become one with the floor as they hammered the concrete pillar between us into dust to pay attention to much else.

  The gunfire let off, and I leapt to my feet, cranking off a few futile rounds after that second car as it rapidly accelerated away. There was no time to think. I shoved the 1911 into the holster. I was going to need both hands for this next bit of reckless stupidity. It was already moving way faster than I could sprint, but I started running alongside it anyway. I’d hopped plenty of trains before, and I searched for something to grab onto, but this thing was sleek, round, and aerodynamic. There was nothing to grab hold of. It was a hobo’s nightmare.

  There had to be something. I kept running as it kept passing me by, faster and faster. My chest hurt. My legs burned. Tonight had already kicked my ass. Then I was next to the final car. Thankfully, there was a rear door with a safety rail, and a bumper sufficient to stand on. I reached out, and the train was already going so damned fast that the rubberized metal bar hit my palm like a bat. I latched on, and it damned near took my arm out of the socket as it yanked me off the platform.

  My boots hit the bumper. I was hanging on for dear life, but I’d made it.

  Apparently on the other side of the train, Valentine had come up with the same bright idea, only he wasn’t nearly as acrobatic as I was. He caught the rail on that side, and was jerked around and swung hard into the metal door. His shoulder hit way too hard, and he probably would have bounced off and eaten track if I’d not grabbed onto his arm. I pulled him back onto the bumper.

  “This is insane!” Valentine shouted.

  “No shit.” There were handholds leading to the roof, but this thing was supposed to go three hundred miles an hour, which meant going that way would be suicidal. “See if you can get the door open.”

  Valentine tried the handle. “Locked.”

  We needed to get inside before Kat’s men came back here and just machine-gunned us through the wall. The train station was flying past us. I leaned back to the left to see if maybe I could reach around to smash out the side window and climb through, but I had to pull my head back to keep from ripping it off as another pillar flashed by.

  I stuck my head out again. Ling was on the platform ahead, frustrated, and glaring at the escaping train, when she saw me hanging there. Without hesitation, she keyed her radio. “Grab my hand, Lorenzo.”

  We were going much faster than when Valentine and I had made it across. This was going to be tight. As the distance closed, I could see that Ling was focused on me like a laser beam. She’d either m
ake it across or die trying. If anybody could do it, it would be Ling. She stuck her arm out.

  But then I thought of what Jill had told me about her.

  It wasn’t even a conscious decision. I hesitated for just an instant, it was too late, and then we were past, leaving Ling alone on the platform. She watched me, furious at the missed opportunity.

  “What are you doing?” Ling demanded.

  “Why didn’t you help her?” Valentine asked a split second later when he saw his girlfriend hadn’t caught our ride.

  “You’ll thank me later,” I snapped at him. “Get that fucking door open.” I keyed my radio. “Ling, you’ve got to find those other two bombs. Use Reaper. He’s going for the command center. We’ve got this one.”

  “Roger,” Ling said, tersely, obviously pissed that I hadn’t snagged her.

  “Try to get Tailor. That one we caught might be armed,” Valentine said into his radio.

  I hadn’t even thought of that. Maybe I hadn’t done Ling any favors after all.

  He went back to kicking the door. “We could have used her help.”

  “We’re probably going to die if you don’t hurry up.”

  There was a little Plexiglas window. Valentine tried to break it a couple of times with his elbow, but when that failed he pulled his .44 Magnum. Man, I hated that stupid gun. “What do you mean I’ll thank you later?” He asked as he used the butt of the revolver to bash the little window in.

  “You’re going to be a dad.”

  Valentine froze, arm shoved through the door, searched for the handle. He looked like I’d nut-punched him. “What?”

  “Congratulations, Pops.”

  Chapter 16: As Above, So Below

  VALENTINE

  “What do you mean?” The train was speeding up rapidly as I, hand through a broken window, fumbled for the emergency door release.