This Is the End: The Post-Apocalyptic Box Set (7 Book Collection)

by Craig DiLouie

  “We can’t use those! Those are people out there! We can’t just blow them up because of some misunderstanding!” Kelly said.

  Mulligan turned and looked at her directly. “Lieutenant, if we can walk in and negotiate with the people who are holding our crewmates and get out of there without firing a shot, fine—I’m all for it. But if we meet resistance, I intend to respond decisively.”

  Kelly glared at him. “What’s the matter, Mulligan, wasn’t the last war enough for you?”

  “Back off, Jordello. He says he’s got the skills for this stuff. Let him do what he has to do.”

  Mulligan looked past Kelly. Rachel stood right behind her, holding a heavy ballistic vest in one hand and a radio headset in the other. Her expression was hard, her attitude focused. It was obvious that she wasn’t letting her dread over her husband and her hatred for Mulligan get the best of her anymore. She looked like a full-time player. Mulligan was caught completely off-guard by the unexpected alliance.

  “Kelly, you and Rachel get suited up in combat armor,” Laird said. “Sarmajor, I take it we’re going to move fast and keep our exposure to the elements to a minimum?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “Then let’s skip the MOPP gear,” Laird suggested, which surprised Mulligan almost as much as Rachel backing him up against Jordello. “The rad count’s so low we won’t need it, and it’ll just slow us down.”

  “Hooah on that, sir,” Mulligan said.

  Kelly wasn’t letting it go. “Jim, we can’t just go to guns on the first group of survivors we’ve encountered in—”

  “We’re not,” Laird said. He popped a magazine inside another rifle, pulled back on the charging lever, and checked to ensure the safety was set before setting it down and moving to the next rifle. “We’re going in armed, and Mulligan has operational control of the mission, but no one’s going to shoot first and ask questions later. Right, Mulligan?”

  “Depending on the situation, yes,” Mulligan said. He turned back to Kelly. “If we’re attacked, we’ll need to defend ourselves. We’ll give them a chance, but if they fuck it up, we absolutely will light them up so we can continue with our mission—remember what we’re here for, Lieutenant.”

  “Remember what Harmony Base stands for, Sergeant Major,” she shot back.

  Laird sighed. “Kelly, listen—”

  “Pull your head out of your ass, Jordello!” Rachel said. “We let these people get the upper hand and detain us here, or outright kill us or whatever it is they might want to do, then everyone at Harmony winds up taking the long dirt nap. You need to choose between the survival of everyone you know or your ideals. Let us know when you’ve made your decision, all right?”

  Damn, that was impressive, Mulligan thought.

  Kelly glared at Rachel, then looked to Laird. The captain met her eyes for a moment, then shrugged. “Andrews and Mulligan are right, Kelly. Mission first, founding principles second. The situation’s pretty clear, and I think we’ve taken this discussion as far as it can go. Get manned up. You too, Andrews. I know you’re not military, and we’ll do what we can to keep you out of it, but I’ll walk you through operating an assault rifle. Just in case.”

  “Good,” Rachel said.

  “So that’s it? Decision’s made?” Kelly asked.

  “It looks that way, ma’am,” Mulligan said.

  She turned away and pushed past Rachel without saying anything further. She reached into a locker and she pulled out another set of body armor.

  Mulligan nodded to Rachel. “Thanks for the assist.”

  “Just do your job,” Rachel said. “For once.” She turned her back to him and began pulling on a pair of kneepads.

  14

  Andrews sat on the floor of a darkened room, trying not to think about the aches and pains that still sung across his body, courtesy of the beating he’d taken at the warehouse. He was angry at himself for allowing the attackers to take him down so easily. Even though he’d been alone, he had been armed with an assault rifle and had gone through a fairly intensive basic training regimen that Mulligan himself had presided over. Andrews had thought he was ready for all eventualities, including having to kill another person, only to find that he had hesitated in the final moment. The only way to have avoided capture would have been to flick the firing selector to auto and open up on anyone not from Harmony Base. But he hadn’t, and now it was time to figure out just what the hell he was going to do.

  “Coach …? How you doing?”

  Andrews looked up. Sitting across from him was Spencer, his face battered and bloodied. He cradled his right arm against his chest. His wrist and hand were severely swollen, and the distended flesh there was already turning a vibrant shade of purple. Like Andrews, he had been stripped of all his gear, save for his uniform. Spencer tried to smile, but the expression turned into a grimace when his split lip started to bleed again.

  “Compared to you, I’m sitting pretty. How’re you holding up, Spence?”

  Spencer looked down at his arm. “You think this is broken?”

  “Oh, yeah. Don’t move it, just keep it right where it is.”

  Spencer nodded. “I gotta tell you, the pain’s about to get me, sir.”

  Andrews reached out and patted one of Spencer’s feet gently. “Hang in there, man.”

  Spencer nodded, but his eyes seemed unfocused. After a long moment, he said, “What do you think they did to Leona?”

  Andrews clenched his teeth and looked away. He squeezed Spencer’s foot. Both of them had heard Leona screaming, a bloodcurdling series of shrieks that rocked them to their very cores. Andrews had immediately gone to the room’s locked door and pounded on it—attacked it, really, kicking it with all his strength—but it was a metal fire door and wouldn’t budge. They could tell from the screams that Leona wasn’t that far from them, but with the thick cinderblock walls and the locked metal door, she might as well have been a million miles away. Her screams had stopped after a brief time, and they’d heard nothing for over an hour since. The light coming in from the room’s single window high on the wall above Andrews’s head had already faded to a dull amber. The sun had set, and night was coming.

  “I don’t know, man. I don’t know,” he said finally.

  Spencer nodded again. “She’s a strong chick. For her to scream like that … they must’ve been doing something horrible to her.”

  “Don’t talk, Spence. Save your strength.” He wanted to add a platitude like We’ll get out of this, or Don’t worry, the others are on their way, but even to his own ears they would sound false. He settled for patting Spencer’s foot again, though he knew the gesture would do little to dispel the swarthy crew chief’s fear. He knew what Spencer was thinking. Even though they were both concerned for Leona’s well-being, they were also deeply frightened of what lay in store for them. Death? Torture? Andrews didn’t know, but he knew he would find out eventually. He had already decided to plead with their captors to let Spencer go and keep only him.

  Or kill him first, so he wouldn’t have to listen to Spencer’s screams in the growing darkness.

  But where’s Mulligan? If they’d caught him, too, wouldn’t he be here with us? Is he being held somewhere else? Or did he escape?

  The last thought was a source of strength. If Mulligan had in fact escaped, there was at least a chance they could be rescued. Andrews had no doubt that Mulligan was the cold, highly skilled special operator he was said to be. If he had managed to elude capture and if he could get to SCEV Five and contact Laird and the others, then the chances of getting out of this mess alive went up a notch.

  Unless he convinced the others to go for the supports and get the hell back to Harmony.

  That last thought didn’t leave Andrews feeling warm and fuzzy. He and Spence had made a silent decision not to discuss Mulligan or his whereabouts—if he had escaped, there was no sense in giving their captors any intel on him. The possibility that he might have put mission success ahead of a rescue was
something they didn’t want to consider.

  The sound of a metal bolt being drawn cracked through the darkness. Andrews rose immediately, facing the door as it slowly swung open. Spencer slowly clambered to his feet, cradling his injured arm; Andrews didn’t move to help him. He wanted to be free and unencumbered in case he needed to fight.

  Torchlight brightened the room. Two natty-looking men in threadbare clothing stepped inside. One held a torch in one hand and a spiked cudgel in the other. The second man held a machete, which looked like it had seen years of use. Both men were filthy, and their rank body odor filled the room quickly. Spencer muttered a curse and stepped away from them, grimacing. The two men were as thin as scarecrows, clearly malnourished, but Andrews didn’t dare underestimate them. Though scrawny, they also appeared to be as tough as shoe leather—anyone who had survived in this dead city had to be.

  A third man stepped into the room. His face was pockmarked and his clothing was old and worn, but he obviously tended to himself. His bearing told Andrews he was a man of some authority, such as it were. The bright gleam in his dark eyes conveyed to Andrews that he was as ruthless as any warlord who had ever lived. The man looked from Andrews to Spencer, then back again. He smiled broadly.

  “Captain Michael Andrews? Commander of the Self-Contained Exploration Vehicle you’ve so graciously donated to us? The vehicle entry code is eight-nine-zero-two-four. It’s powered by two Honeywell AGT2500 gas turbine engines and has an Arbalest millimeter wave radar system manufactured by Lockheed Martin—oddly enough, I’m familiar with those. You come from Harmony Base, a subterranean complex located in what’s left of Kansas, some fifty miles from the Colorado border. You’re here to secure supports for your geothermal heat conversion units. If you fail, then about three hundred seventy-five people will die.” The man’s smiled widened into a Cheshire Cat grin. “Feel free to correct me if I might have gotten something wrong.”

  “Where’s the rest of my team?” Andrews asked.

  “Lieutenant Eklund is being well taken care of, Captain. Don’t worry—I know you must’ve have heard her screams, but she hasn’t been permanently damaged. And your man Mulligan will be found any time now … assuming he’s still alive.” The man’s countenance darkened slightly. “He managed to kill several members of my family. He’ll pay for that. All of you will.”

  Andrews heart leapt at the news. Mulligan’s still alive!

  The man smiled once again. “I wouldn’t feel suddenly optimistic, Captain. He will be found. But listen, forgive the delay in our little meeting—I’ve been exploring the capabilities of your vehicle. Rather impressive collection of technology, isn’t it? Sophisticated, but simple at the same time. Lieutenant Eklund has been most helpful in assisting me in understanding its more advanced operations. Allow me to introduce myself.” The man actually bowed, as if Andrews was some sort of visiting dignitary being received by a civilized man in a civilized land. “I am the Law.” He straightened and met Andrews’s gaze with humorless eyes. “In both name and fact.”

  “Why did your people attack us?” Andrews asked.

  “You invaded our territory. Perhaps you aren’t aware, Andrews, but the world is a very hostile place these days.” Law spoke almost conversationally. He looked down at his dark, long-sleeved shirt and brushed some dust from one of the lapels, as if Andrews was boring him.

  “Granted, the world is absolutely a hostile place,” Andrews said, and he heard the anger and frustration in his voice. “But now you know why we’re here. Our mission has nothing to do with you. There’s no reason for you to hold us—”

  Law looked up and his eyes narrowed. The air seemed to crackle around Andrews, then a tremendous bolt of pain slashed through him, from head to groin. He cried out and doubled over, almost falling to his knees. He felt his bladder quiver and, for a moment, he thought he was going to piss himself. He’d never felt anything as intense as this in his entire life; it was like all his innards had suddenly burst into flame. His ragged cry dissolved into a series of hacking coughs as he gagged, his stomach turning. Then he did fall to his knees, and a moment later, his forehead met the floor as the pain increased.

  “Don’t lecture me, Andrews! This is my domain!” Law shouted. “I ask, and you answer! That’s how it works!”

  With that, the pain suddenly disappeared. Andrews caught himself before he collapsed, feeling a hot sweat break out across his body. His gut churned, but he managed to hold back his gorge as he gasped for air.

  My God, what just happened?

  He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Captain … Mike, you okay?” Spencer asked. “What happened, man?”

  Andrews slowly pushed himself to his haunches. He nodded at Spencer, then rose to his feet. Law looked at him, smiling haughtily.

  “Just a little trick I picked up years ago, before the war,” Law said. “Yeah. ‘Before the war.’ There’s something we don’t talk about much around here, but I’ll take a moment to fill you in. Interested, or—?”

  “Go ahead,” Andrews said, not wanting to contemplate what the “or” might entail.

  “I was no one. I was a Marine for three years, but I hated it—I hated the service, hated the lack of individuality, hated being a tiny cog in a huge machine. I was one of the Corps’ problem children—they couldn’t make me into what they wanted me to be, and I wasn’t inclined to let them. It wasn’t exactly a match made in heaven, but I intended to serve out my enlistment. No matter what, I simply wouldn’t quit—much to the Corps’ displeasure, of course.” Law smiled again. “But, as things happen, I was scouted by another agency. The CIA. Heard of them?”

  “Yes,” Andrews said.

  Law nodded. “Anyway, I became a guinea pig for a new program. With artificial hormones and nanotechnology and some rather unpleasant rounds of microsurgery, my new employers gave me talents and abilities no other man has ever had. I was designed to be multifaceted. To be whatever the situation demanded—spy, soldier, interrogator, you name it—but then the war came. And this little guinea piggy was left to fend for himself.”

  Law indicated the two stinking men standing behind him, who watched Andrews and Spencer with hard eyes.

  “Now, I’m the king. Their king, for whom they would do anything.”

  “Law …” Andrews paused, swallowed, and licked his lips. He found he barely had the courage to speak. Would he be subjected to another round of horrible, terrifying agony? He would do almost anything to avoid that. “Law, please. Listen to me. You know why we’re here, right? You understand what our mission is—”

  “Your mission?” Law shouted, and Andrews took an involuntary step backward. “You think I give a rat’s ass about your mission, Captain? You and your people live below ground in a sterile, climate-controlled environment, watching old movies, listening to music, eating decent food, living the good life while the rest of the planet fucking died! All your people did was kick back for ten years, not even bothering to help out the rest of us. You’re hypocrites!”

  “That’s not so.” Andrews kept his voice calm and rational. “That’s not what Harmony’s about. Our core mission statement is—”

  “‘When the world ends, our mission begins.’ Yeah, I heard that already. I noticed your vehicle is armed with missiles and machine guns, by the way. Coming to offer help from the barrel of a weapon? I mean, you’ve already killed four members of my family, so why stop there?”

  “Our weapons are defensive only, and your people attacked us! No warning, no attempted contact, nothing—just an outright attack while we were looking for what we needed. If you’re so frightened of us, all you had to do was keep your heads down. We would’ve been gone in less than two hours!” Andrews spread his hands. “That’s the truth, Law. Leona must have told you that, and I’m telling it to you again. We’re not on a mission of conquest, we’re here looking for what my people need in order to survive.”

  Law snorted, but he seemed suddenly calm. He regarded the two men before him for a long momen
t. “Yes, yes, you both sing the same song. But it doesn’t matter, Andrews. It simply doesn’t matter. I’m not willing to take the chance. I know that if you don’t leave here, your people will die from a poisoned atmosphere. Kind of ironic that your impressive base actually becomes a mass grave, am I right?”

  “Why? Why let that happen?” Andrews asked. “Harmony has everything you need. Food. Medicine. Building supplies. Technology. We can relocate you to another place and support you in recovery. Listen to me, Law—if we die, then you doom your own people. We’re your best chance at regaining what you lost in the war!”

  “So you’d have us trade in what little we have left for the promise of a better future? Are you actually telling me that the government is back, and now it wants to help?” Law chuckled throatily, and Andrews could see he was actually enjoying the exchange. “I’m sorry, Captain. Those of us who managed to survive could never trust you. And why should we?” He turned away and walked out the door. As he passed the two men standing guard, he said, “Take them to the Pit.”

  When he stepped out of the room, more filthy survivors rolled in after him, overwhelming Andrews and Spencer like a putrid tide.

  15

  The cavernous room must have once been an arena of some sort, Andrews thought—perhaps a hockey rink. From the light of dozens of flickering torches that surrounded the rink, he could see that where there should have been a sheet of ice, there was instead desiccated earth dotted with sharp metal stakes. The bleachers surrounding the pit were filled with scores of wildly screaming survivors, ranging from filthy, scrappy men and women to twisted monstrosities—those who had been born with severe physical deformities, likely courtesy of the radioactive aftermath of the Sixty Minute War. He didn’t understand how they had survived for so long. There were over a hundred people present, and they cheered and howled like crazed animals as Andrews and Spencer were dragged and thrown into the pit. Spencer cursed as he landed on his injured arm while rolling out of the fall, and he wound up lying on his side, cradling his wounded limb. Andrews hurried over to him and pulled him to his feet as the crowd began to pelt them with all manner of debris.