by Nick Thacker
Saunders wasn’t firing her weapon, so he assumed the only enemy contact they’d had so far was on their side of the silo. Still, he knew they wouldn’t all gather on one side of the building, waiting in line to be shot at.
He looked up and tried to spot Carter. He found him looking toward the caves behind the silos. The man had fallen back even farther, trying to cover an approach from the rear. He considered trying to run over to him, but knew he’d be considered dead weight in the middle of an attack.
Mason yelled beside him. “I’m hit!”
Mark looked over just as the man fell backwards on the dirt. His body swiveled around as he landed, his feet falling toward Mark. Mark saw that the bullet had hit Mason’s right arm and reached down to help him up. He first grabbed the man’s gun, as Mason had dropped it beside him as he fell.
“Come on, we can get that patched up,” Mark said. Mason’s left hand was covering the wound, and his face was contorted in pain, but both knew the wound was far from fatal.
Saunders shouted over at them. “Mason, get back! They’re moving in!”
Mark looked again and noticed what she was yelling about. Mason’s head was exposed, lying past the edge of the silo. Mark reached down to pull on Mason’s legs and pull him out of the way. “Mason, I need to get you back out of the way—”
It was too late. Mark heard one shot of a distant rifle—unique in the cacophony of all the others—before he realized that it had found its mark. Mason’s eyes bulged open, then his entire body got very still. It was a quick death, but to Mark it was stunning, absolute. He fell back, sitting on the ground now. He punched his fist hard into the dirt.
Out of nowhere, Carter was there. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice short and gruff. Mark stood, briefly locked eyes with Erik, and the two followed Saunders and Carter back to the two other silos.
“Should, uh, shouldn’t we get Mason?” Mark asked when they’d reached the open expanse between the back silo and the rock wall.
“Can’t do anything for him now,” Carter said. Mark took this in, then looked up at the others. Only Saunders was looking—glaring—at him.
“We’re going back to the caves. We can defend our position better from there,” Carter said. “On my count.”
But the count never came. Instead, Mark felt a whoosh next to his head, and he instinctively dropped to the ground just as the bullet’s sound caught up to him. They’re already here. The others hit the ground as well—Erik lying prone, Carter and Saunders crouching on a knee.
“Ok, get to the caves,” Carter said, his voice raised to carry over the rising sound of gunfire. “Move! I’ll cover!”
Saunders and Erik immediately sprang into action; Saunders stood quickly, fired, and then sprinted toward the cavern opening. Erik ran a few steps behind, his speed almost matching Saunders’.
Mark waited to see what Carter needed, but the man was already engaging in return fire. Carter yelled again for him to move, but Mark could barely hear him over the sound of automatic weapons, their explosions reverberating and bouncing through the trio of silos and bouncing back off of the rock wall.
Mark had the pistol and Mason’s rifle, but he wasn’t sure how Carter would react if Mark began firing at the oncoming forces. He decided he’d risk it.
“Hold on, I got your back,” he shouted at Carter as he strode alongside him. Carter was kneeling on the ground, so Mark stood, using the silo’s wall as cover for his left side.
Carter just gave a curt nod as he continued holding the others at bay. Mark’s shots were generally too high to be of any use, but the racket of two men, instead of one, firing back at the enemy seemed to hold them behind the first silo.
It was then that Mark realized they weren’t holding them back. Instead, they were holding only two of the ten or so soldiers behind the silo. As he fired toward them, he realized it was the same two men firing back at him. Further still, their shots were consistently wide, missing both him and Carter. The distance between them was considerable, but it certainly wasn’t enough for trained men to fret over. They’re missing on purpose, Mark thought.
Carter was thinking the same thing. “There are only two behind that silo. Do you see the others?”
Mark was about to respond when Carter’s magazine clicked. He emptied his and reached for another, then turned to get back behind the cover of the building.
Suddenly an explosion rocked them. It was far away, but close enough to shake the ground they were standing on. Mark felt his body pushed forcefully against the silo’s wall from the blast. It subsided quickly, and he turned to look at Carter.
“What is it?” Mark asked, watching Carter out of the corner of his eye. He took a brief moment to glance back, and followed Carter’s stare.
There, behind them, was a group of soldiers. All armed, and all staring at Carter and Mark.
Each was dressed in black fatigues, but Mark couldn’t see any insignia on their uniforms. They carried assault rifles, and each wore a black skull cap over their heads.
One of them stepped forward and motioned with his gun. Somehow Carter understood the simple command. He dropped the magazine on the ground, set his gun down, and stood. Mark followed suit, raising his hands over his head.
Another soldier was jogging back to the group. Behind him, Mark could see a large cloud of smoke billowing from the cave opening. The opening Saunders and Erik had entered less than fifteen seconds ago.
Chapter 27
MORE SHOTS RANG OUT FROM somewhere ahead, and the three of them ran faster. They exited the caves through the opening that spilled them out onto the housing district’s concrete street, but they took a sharp right and followed the cave wall around. A few hundred feet later, Nelson stopped and held up a hand. Jen and Dr. Pavan halted abruptly behind him.
“Wait. Let’s see if we can’t get a bead on who’s shooting,” he said. He held up his rifle and looked through the scope. “Can’t see anyone, but I definitely hear it coming from those white buildings over there.”
He didn’t point, but Jen and Dr. Pavan followed the direction of his gun and peered around him. Jen couldn’t see anyone either, but Nelson seemed to be right. The shots were sporadic, punctuating the air every few seconds. Not enough to be an outright battle, but certainly someone was trying to keep someone else pinned down to one location.
Nelson started forward again and made it to the last of the houses along the rail track. He moved from the rock wall to the rear of the house for more cover, and again held up his gun.
“Crap, I don’t hear anything now,” he muttered.
“Do you see anything yet?” Dr. Pavan asked.
“Negative. Let’s wait here a second and see what happens.”
Suddenly an explosion farther away shook the ground beneath them. The distant, hollow sound seemed more like thunder than an explosion, but Nelson knew better. “That was a grenade, or some kind of small-arms incendiary device.”
“Was it us or them?” Jen asked.
“Them. We’re not carrying that kind of firepower,” Nelson replied. “Too bad, too. I could’ve used something like that earlier. Bastards.”
He turned to the two civilians, eyed them up and down, and then delivered instructions. “We’re gonna go check it out. Can’t just sit back and wait around, right? Maybe the party ain’t over yet.”
He jogged away as Jen and Dr. Pavan followed. Jen felt adrenaline coursing through her body and tried to will it toward keeping her focused, alert. Pavan stayed next to her, running at an easy pace.
They passed two of the buildings, and Jen noticed the smell of fish in the air. It was old, but not rotten, like what she imagined a fresh fish market smelled like the day after the fish were sold. As they ran past the second building, a lump to Jen’s left caught her eye.
“Hold on, guys. There’s something over here.”
She stopped at the lump. It was a human body; one of the soldiers. Nelson kicked it over with his toe, and the limp body fell flat on
its back. The face and body were completely covered in black clothing, face paint, and gloves, and they could now see a bloody wound on the man’s midsection.
Looking closer, Jen noticed that the man’s eyes were dark, almost black. His face was rugged and fit, and his high cheekbones gave him an almost handsome youthfulness. “Looks Russian,” Nelson said. He bent down, shuffled through the man’s pockets, and retrieved a few scraps of paper and a receipt. “Nothing to identify him, but it looks like he bought a coffee before the trip.”
“You think they’re all Russian?” Dr. Pavan asked.
“Most likely. Probably a mercenary squad of some sort. Doubt they’re affiliated with their own government—at least not directly.”
He gave the man a final pat-down but didn’t find anything of worth. The soldier’s comrades had taken his weapon and sidearm, and even his combat knife. A sheath attached to his belt lay empty.
Nelson was about to stand again but stopped short. He frowned, then reached his hand out to the man’s head. The soldier was wearing a black skull cap, but his was pulled slightly up, revealing an inch of shaved scalp around his ears.
“What is it?” Jen asked.
Nelson didn’t answer. He reached toward the man’s head, feeling right above the man’s ear. He muttered something inaudible, and Jen and Dr. Pavan knelt down beside him.
“Feel this,” he said.
Jen reached out and felt where Nelson’s fingers were. She couldn’t feel anything at first—just the sandpapery texture of a recently shaved head. She pushed a little harder, and her fingers met resistance. Wiggling around with her index and middle fingers, she felt the outline of a perfect circle. Small, hard, and round, something was just inside the dead soldier’s head.
“Weird,” Nelson said. His tone conveyed nothing. If he was surprised that the soldier had a piece of jewelry embedded in his skull, Jen couldn’t tell. She watched as Nelson unsheathed his own knife—a monstrous KA-BAR military blade—and pointed it down toward the soldier’s ear.
“Don’t!” Jen said. She and Dr. Pavan stood up.
“What?” Nelson asked. “Aren’t you a little curious?”
She didn’t say anything, but Dr. Pavan gave a slight nod toward Nelson. Nelson grinned and then poked gently with his knife.
Blood oozed out around the blade, but there was only a little, and it didn’t seem to bother him. He made a few incisions, and then pushed on the skin just below the lump. Wriggling it around for a moment, he eventually freed the object from the soldier’s head and caught it in his bare hand.
Nelson wiped off his hand and the object with a section of the fallen soldier’s shirt, then stood.
Jen and Dr. Pavan instinctively stepped forward, curious as to what the object really was.
It was shiny, made of metal, and a perfectly round disk. It looked just like a miniature hockey puck except for a small glass bubble on one side of the disk. Jen couldn’t see any marks, features, or noteworthy characteristics on it otherwise.
“Well, I’ll be,” Nelson said. “What do you think it is?”
Dr. Pavan scrutinized the object carefully a few seconds before shrugging. “Beats me,” he said, and looked up at the other two.
Nelson shrugged as well and then placed the small object in one of his vest pockets. “Maybe we’ll hold on to it awhile; see if anything comes of it.”
Jen was about to ask to see it when a high-pitched whine emanated from out of nowhere. She grabbed her ears and spun, trying to locate the source. “What is that noise?” she asked.
Nelson squinted in pain, clearly hearing it as well, though not able to cover his ears with full hands. “No idea, but it ain’t pretty. Let’s keep moving.”
They started walking alongside the buildings, moving slower now in case they came across more bodies. Jen reached the end of the row of fish-smelling buildings first and turned around to wait for the others.
Her eyes widened.
“What?” Nelson asked, still squinting from the painfully high-pitched noise.
She didn’t speak, but she felt her mouth moving to form words. “I—I…”
Nelson and Pavan realized that her eyes weren’t on them, but behind them. They turned to see what had caught her attention.
“Holy mother of—” Nelson muttered under his breath. Dr. Pavan began walking backwards, not speaking.
Approaching them from the first of the buildings was a group of people, most wearing white lab coats. They were walking, but not all were standing upright. Their faces were obscured, but Jen could see their heads lolling around, not quite looking at them, but not quite looking away.
“Keep moving, guys,” Nelson said softly. “Let’s get to those three silos out there before we do anything else.”
The group, about ten strong, kept up with them, but Jen continuously looked over her shoulder as they jogged. They reached the silos in another minute and turned to see that the swarm of scientists had kept in fact kept pace with them, the distance between the two groups remaining constant.
Nelson turned to Jen and Pavan. “Should I…should I shoot them?” he asked.
“No!” Jen responded. “We don’t know who they are, or if they’re hurt.” She thought for a moment, then called out to them. “Hey! Who are you? Don’t get any closer!”
“Jen,” Dr. Pavan whispered, “maybe we shouldn’t call attention to ourselves?”
“Big deal,” Jen said. “They already know we’re here. What harm could it do?”
The swarm kept coming. The man in the front of the group—in his sixties, with grayish hair, and huge glasses—began walking a bit faster. He reached the opening between the buildings and the silos and started closing the distance. Jen backed away from the clearing as Nelson raised his rifle.
“Just say the word, Jen, and I’ll blow his brains out,” Nelson muttered.
“Stop it. He might be able to help us.”
The man was about fifteen feet away when he broke into a run. He wasn’t fast, nor was he efficient—the “running” was really a combination of stumbling, tripping, and falling forward. But he was going to reach them in a few seconds nonetheless.
“Go!” Nelson shouted, turning and running between the three silos. Jen and Dr. Pavan followed. They rounded the edge of the second silo and stopped again, waiting to see what the newcomer might do.
“Did you hear that?” Jen asked.
She cocked her head toward the noise, and soon heard it again—a groan.
A man’s groan. She felt her heart flutter as she stepped out from the silo’s edge and ran toward the third and final silo in the group. On the other side of the silo she saw him.
Laying on the ground, blood pooling around his head, was Carter.
She called back for help and knelt down beside him.
“Carter. Carter, it’s Jen. Are you okay?”
His eyelids fluttered, then opened slightly. He let out a deep moan.
Jen checked his vitals and tried to see what had caused the bleeding. She found a gash on the side of the man’s head—large, but not deep. He’d been hit with something.
“Carter, can you talk? What happened?”
He looked up at her as the other two in the group arrived. Nelson immediately reached for a small first aid kit on his belt and began rifling through the objects inside. He found a roll of gauze and began to unwrap it.
Dr. Pavan reached for the canteen that was hanging on Carter’s side, tore off a sleeve of his own shirt, and then doused the cloth in some water. “This won’t be completely sanitary, but we might be able to get it clean enough.”
Nelson nodded, now beginning to wrap the gauze bandage around his commanding officer’s head. “What happened to you, boss?” he asked.
Carter looked up at them, breathed in heavily, then spoke. “They—they took…” his voice trailed off, but he kept looking up at them.
“Is he alright?” Jen asked.
“He’s fine. Probably a minor concussion, but if we can
keep him awake and functioning, he’ll just walk away with a helluva headache. Here, help me with this.” He lifted Carter’s head a few inches and slid the gauze underneath. Jen grabbed it and finished the wrapping, tucking the end into one of the strands.
“Carter, who are they? And who did they take?” Jen asked. She felt she knew the answer to both questions already, but she needed to get him talking and thinking coherently.
The man tried again. “They took… they took Mark…”
Jen’s heart sank. Hearing the words made it true. But there was pinprick of hope, a suspicion that if they took him, that meant he was probably still alive.
Nelson and Dr. Pavan lifted Carter to a sitting position. As they did, Jen remembered the prior predicament they were in. She turned around.
The man was standing a foot behind her, just in the shadow of the silo. He’d somehow crept up on all of them silently and had been standing there—how long?
She gasped, startling the three men.
“Holy…” Nelson said, reaching for his gun.
Dr. Pavan used his free hand and placed it on Nelson’s arm. “Jen’s right, Nelson, we don’t know who he is or what he wants. Let’s just keep moving and try to lose them in the caves.”
The caves, Jen thought. She looked up and beyond the three men and saw a large, dark opening in the distance. They’d made it to the other Level Four opening.
She reached down and helped move Carter to his feet, grabbing him by his belt. The other two men carried him under his arms, but after a few shaky moments they found Carter was capable of mostly holding his own weight.
They walked on, the weird scientist following them.
“Uh, Jen,” Nelson asked as he shifted Carter’s weight to his other arm, “what if these guys don’t actually leave us alone?”
She’d been thinking about the same thing, but she didn’t yet have a satisfactory answer. “We’ll just hope they do. Keep that gun loaded, soldier.”
