by West, Kyle
“The Lords are sneaking in from above,” she said. “Do you see anyone out there?”
Ashton hesitated only a moment, registering the news, before answering.
“Right. Looking out the windshield now, but I’m not seeing anything. Snowstorm’s picked up again.”
“Sit still,” Makara said. “We can’t let them know anything has changed. We need them to think they’re catching us unawares, when in reality, we’ll be ready for them.”
Even as Ashton and Makara continued to speak, the Command Center filled with Angels: refugees, women, and children. Anyone who could fight was given a gun and ammo, and this included some of the women. Anyone who couldn’t fight was ushered to a corner of the Command Center where they would be safest, guarded over by six Angels overseen by Samuel.
After the allotted five minutes, every Angel had reported for duty.
Makara briefly explained the situation before laying out her plan.
“We need to set up an ambush somewhere on this level. Earlier, we assigned squad leaders. Follow their lead and follow the chain of command, and we’ll make it.”
Everyone nodded, listening to Makara with a surprising level of calm.
“Here are my orders: stay on the third level. Stay off the main corridors. Hide wherever you can. They’re going to try to sneak into the Command Center. Let them get a good ways into the third level before striking, but don’t let them inside the Command Center itself. The idea is to get them on this level so deep that they have to commit to a fight where they’re at a disadvantage. As soon as we hear the gunfire, Samuel will shut off the lights. That’s your cue to attack. I hope you all have brought your flashlights.”
The Angels nodded their confirmation that they had.
“Samuel will hold the fort here, keeping the civilians safe. Any questions?”
No one said anything. There wasn’t time for questions, anyway.
“Move out,” Makara said. “And good luck.”
Chapter 13
We waited.
I stood in a disused locker room with a combat team led by Michael, twenty Angels strong. The locker room connected to a gym, which connected to the main corridor.
We waited for either the gunshots to start, to get spotted, or the lights to go out.
My heart pounded in my chest. I wasn’t born a warrior. All I wanted was to survive, and somehow, I had ended up with a gun in my hand. I wanted to separate my emotions from the act of taking another man’s life, but I didn’t know if that was possible. I realized, not for the first time, that it could all end right here. I might never live to see Ragnarok Crater.
I looked at Michael, whose gaze had homed in on the corridor across from the gym. He was the only person looking outside the dingy locker room, waiting. When it was go time, he’d raise his hand, and the killing would begin.
A gunshot sounded, distant. One second passed. Two.
The lights dimmed. Two seconds more, then darkness. Spots flared in my vision.
“Go,” Michael whispered.
Twenty pairs of boots clomped into the gym. From the corridor, I heard panicked whispers, then silence.
They’d heard us.
“They’re in there!”
Michael opened fire in response to the Lord’s warning. The man screamed as bullets entered his flesh. Michael’s AR thundered in the cavernous gym, the gun’s barrel flashing like lightning. I added my own volleys, feeling the familiar kick of my AR at my shoulder. I held firm, giving the force the dispersion it needed. Another man screamed. When Michael ceased fire, the rest of us followed suit.
Then came the sounds of boots running down the corridor, past the open doorway of the gym. More shots followed.
“After me,” Michael said.
I fell in behind Michael. The metallic air stung with the smell of blood.
Michael took a corner, clicking on his gun light. Its beam revealed two Lords crouching over a comrade bleeding from his gut.
They barely had time to scream before we shot them down.
“Two behind!” someone yelled.
I spun to see our men in the back ranks take action. We fired, they fired. One of our men dropped while two Lords fell. More men filled the intersection.
“Take cover!” Michael roared above the din.
I dove into an open doorway, followed by several more Angels. One was shot mid-dive. He screamed and crashed into the floor next to me, his warm blood splashing my face. I wiped my cheek on my shirtsleeve, gritting my teeth. I looked at the dead man. A good chunk of his neck had been blown off.
More shots sounded, ricochets of bullets zinging like metallic wasps. Then, silence. Distant gunfire, distant screams of men...
Neither side wanted to show themselves in the darkness. The squad had been split up, and to get back together, one of the halves would have to cross the corridor under enemy fire.
“This way,” Michael said.
I was glad he was among the Angels who had taken shelter in this room, because that meant I was with Michael. Our leader crouched low and walked to a back corner. He shined his light around, revealing toppled desks, chairs, and a blackboard leaning against the wall, upon which a set of numbers had been scrawled with chalk. I had the time to recognize it as the quadratic formula before we passed into another classroom through an open doorway. It was filled with the clutter of a Bunker past. More toppled desks. Dust and dirt lining the floor. And, chillingly, chains hung from the walls, at the end of which were shackles.
I didn’t want to know the story behind those.
Michael took the lead once more, pointing his light beam right. Then left. He paused.
A bullet screamed past.
He ducked back in, cursing.
“Michael!”
He shook me away. “I’m fine.”
“Quiet,” another man said.
I listened, hearing nothing for three long seconds.
That was when an explosion ignited outside, not in front of the door, but a short distance to the left of it. A bright flash of orange blinded me, and the heat of the blast licked my skin. The floor shook as I dropped to my belly, face down. Men groaned outside in the corner. I couldn’t tell if they were with us or them.
Michael stepped into the corridor. I was almost surprised when no bullets came to claim his life. He disappeared toward the left. I hesitated before following him.
Michael stood in a corridor littered with bodies, severed limbs, and crusted blood in the midst of crumbling concrete, rebar, and choking dust. I hacked in the sooty air. Nothing was recognizable.
“Where are we?” one of the men asked.
“Nowhere we need to be,” Michael said.
Michael turned from the collapsed tunnel, walking as if he knew where he was going. It was amazing how quickly such a man would be followed. We fell in step behind him as he turned to the left, not bothering to check the many open doorways he passed.
I was about to ask if we should slow down when Michael spoke.
“We become the hunters now.”
He reached a set of steps. At first, I thought it was to go up. I stared only for a moment before he struck downstairs.
I knew where he was going.
“Michael – this is crazy.”
He looked at me, his brown eyes intense. “Feel free to turn back. I’m going to hit them now, while most of their fighters are up here. I trust Makara and the others to hold the line. Any of you are welcome to join me.”
With that, Michael went down into the darkness, at first alone. He paused at the first landing, waiting a moment.
I thought about that day long ago when I followed Michael into the Wasteland for the first time. I would follow him again.
When I started after him, he gave a grim smile.
“Well, Alex,” he said. “It’s time to kill the Weasel.”
***
We quickly circled the flights of stairs down to level ten. Here the stairs ended, opening onto a long, dark corridor.
Michael scanned left and right with his light.
At this distance, the gunshots had faded, though the occasional crack carried down the stairwell.
Michael walked forward, in search of another staircase leading down. The Lords’ headquarters were on level twenty, the lowest level of Bunker 84. With luck, they hadn’t left many defenders behind.
The corridor turned ninety degrees to the right, Michael’s light beam illuminating dancing motes. We walked a few steps before another stairwell materialized in the darkness.
Michael paused at the top of the stairs, listening. One of the men reloaded a magazine, the sound loud and echoing. Almost like a bullet itself.
Michael turned to face us. As an Officer and patrol leader in Bunker 108, he was used to leading. It was easy to follow him.
“Alright,” he said. “This one should lead straight to level twenty.” He fixed us all with a level gaze. “I don’t have much to say. I know we’re not supposed to be down here, but sometimes, you get a feeling you can’t ignore, an opportunity you can’t pass up. This is one of those. When we get to the bottom of the stairs, I don’t know what we’ll find. There’ll be civilians, so think before you shoot. Our priority is taking down the Lords and keeping the civilians safe.”
The men nodded and waited for Michael to speak again.
“Anyone not ready?” he asked.
No one spoke up.
“Let’s go.”
***
Of all the crazy things I had done since leaving Bunker 108, I felt this had to be one of the craziest.
We were running downstairs into darkness to confront an enemy of unknown size, without orders from either Makara or Samuel. But the prize was too tempting to pass up: we could save Ruth, Char, and Marcus, along with everyone else who had been trapped down there.
The flights went by in slow motion.
Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.
On level fifteen, a surprised Lord had been standing guard, where he had obviously fallen asleep. As he rushed to get up, grabbing his rifle, he was shot down. That shot would echo downward to the twentieth level.
“Keep moving,” Michael said.
Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.
There were only two flights left, now. If Makara and the others could hold on upstairs, this might all end tonight.
Nineteen.
That was where the fighting started. A blaze of bullets issued from men hidden behind doorways, felling two Angels before the rest of us could continue to the twentieth.
“Markos...Groot...hold the rear!” Michael called.
The two Angels obeyed, even knowing the danger, but someone had to hold the Lords off on nineteen while we continued to the twentieth. Two more Angels peeled away to assist Markos and Groot. Michael motioned the rest of us on.
We ran down the last line of stairs to twenty, into an empty hallway. The floor was cloaked in darkness. The screams of women and children were muffled by distance.
Michael went into a crouch, advancing forward. On level nineteen the firefight continued. A man screamed; us or them, I couldn’t tell.
We walked unopposed into a rec room – the same one Elias and I had spoken in just a week ago. Michael continued on into a dark hallway. The level was eerily silent.
We kept moving until we reached Hydroponics. The grow lights bathed the plants, casting green shadows on the many lanes running through it. Sprinklers misted the plants, producing rainbows as they refracted the light.
Michael approached the railing, low to the floor, peeking over. He watched a moment before turning toward us, holding up four fingers.
Four men on guard. It made sense that the Lords would leave some guards here. The food was their source of power.
There was no way we were sneaking by with almost twenty armed men, so Michael took careful aim. Several more Angels approached the landing, doing the same.
One of the guards amid the plants was startled, looking at our position. He squinted at us, as if unable to believe his eyes.
We opened fire.
Two of the men fell immediately as the other two dove for the plants. From within the maze of green foliage, several women screamed.
“Cease fire!” Michael said. “They have civilians working down there.”
We backed way toward the wall and away from the railing.
“The gang lords are the target,” Michael said. “This just distracts us.”
I didn’t like leaving the civilians behind, or the Lords at our back, but Michael was right. We had to stay focused on our goal.
Michael stepped away from the railing, sidling along the metallic wall, keeping as far from the overhang as possible. The men followed suit. The Lords below couldn’t take shots unless they actually climbed the stairs that led to the overhang – in which case, we’d have the advantage.
The sound of footsteps pounded from the corridor behind. Several voices called out as we readied to defend ourselves.
“It’s us! Angels!”
Three men appeared out of the original four that had stood guard at the stairs.
“What happened?” Michael asked.
“The Lords abandoned their position on nineteen,” the Angel said. “They disappeared onto the level, so we came to find you.”
Michael nodded. “Keep close.”
He turned and waved us on. He approached the corridor leading to the hangar.
We went around the corner. Michael hung right, where a flight of stairs branched from the corridor and ran down to the hangar. The metal steps rattled beneath our boots. Michael, at last, reached the metallic door reading “Hangar.”
“I don’t know what’s after this door,” Michael said. “Be ready for anything. Go on my orders. If the fire’s too heavy, I’m closing the door again.”
The men nodded their understanding. Michael clicked off his rifle light. He waited another moment before pulling the latch.
The door swung open, revealing the hangar to be dim and empty, vast in the absence of spaceships. If there was to be any resistance, we should have found it here.
Michael stepped forward. We fanned out, forming a wide V.
I focused on a dark row of windows halfway up the right-hand wall. The control room.
“They could be in there,” I said.
Michael nodded. “We need to be careful. It’s too damn quiet for my liking. Maybe Cain went out on the attack, but I don’t think either Rey or Jade would get their hands dirty.” Michael paused a moment, thinking further. “If Rey and Jade are here, that means they have guards.”
Michael motioned us over to the right-hand wall. We followed its length until we reached a doorway. The doorway opened onto a long, dark corridor. On our left rose a set of steps, leading to the control room.
“That’s the way up,” I said.
“I don’t want to attack into a choke,” Michael said.
“We don’t even know what’s up there,” another Angel said.
“True,” Michael said. “We need a way to flush them out.”
I handed Michael one of my grenades. “Try this.”
Michael took the grenade, thinking on it.
From upstairs, a woman screamed. It sounded like...
“Ruth!” I said.
“Hold up,” Michael said. “They’ll kill her if we try anything.”
“Well, we have to do something,” I said. “I don’t think they know we’re here.”
“I know that,” Michael said, frustrated. “Let me think.”
Ruth screamed again. A man cursed. There was a slamming noise, like someone being forced against a wall.
That was enough. If this was just bait to get me to go up the stairs, then I guessed it was going to work.
I charged ahead, my feet slamming on the steps.
“Alex!” Michael said.
It became silent upstairs. I threw my AR over my shoulder by the strap, instead reaching for my Beretta. I rounded the flight, only to see darkness ahead. I was beginning to regret my
decision, and it felt as if my heart would pound out of my chest. I forced myself onward, before I could second-guess myself.
I burst onto the landing. My first sight was of Ruth lying in the corner, her face bloodied. The second was of Jade, shirt off, blue eyes looking at me with shock. They were the only two in the room.
A guard burst into the room, aiming a handgun my way. I ducked right before a bullet was fired. It whizzed over my head. I returned my own fire with the Beretta, not really having the time to take careful aim.
Time seemed to slow, each bullet taking an eternity. The guard got several more shots off, and it was only the darkness of the room that saved me. Each flash gave me a brief, terrifying glimpse of the guard, appearing at a different location with each shot. His eyes were wide with fear.
Finally, the man cried out. I thought I’d gotten him, but he kept on shooting, seemingly unaffected. By this time, four shots had been fired at me, and each had missed. I couldn’t stay lucky for too much longer; it was only a matter of time until one of them connected.
I adjusted my aim upward, toward the neck and face of the guard. This would be a hard shot, in the darkness and with a small, moving target.
I fired twice, nabbing the guard in the jaw. He gave a bloody scream as I fired again, right between the eyes.
During the few seconds the gunfight happened, Michael and the other Angels had charged up the stairs from behind. Meanwhile, the Weasel had been searching for his weapon.
I didn’t give him another second. He turned away just as I fired into his back. He gave a horrible, parched wail that seemed more Howler than human. I fired again as he sprawled onto the floor and went still.
I scanned the rest of the control room, adrenaline coursing through my veins. There was another door, at which I pointed my Beretta with shaking hands. I held this position for several seconds, my hands shaking, as Angels entered the room.
Finally, I forced myself to relax. Ruth was in the corner, fighting tears. There was a tightness in my throat, and an anger in my gut for what had happened, or what was about to happen. At least Jade was dead, and Ruth was safe.
