Burden of Sisyphus (19 page)

           
Without replying, Tusque returned to his position, scanning the short buildings for any sign of movement.
 
Decker, who watched the conversation from a distance, slid to Vance’s side, as they marched toward the tall buildings in the business district.

           
“What did he have to say?” Decker asked.

           
“The same thing we’ve been saying all along, that this mission has more layers than we were led to believe.”
 
He turned to the younger Pilgrim, a sober look in his eyes.
 
“Do me a favor, Decker.
 
Keep your people overly vigilant.
 
Don’t let them take anything for granted.
 
Even if they accidentally spot one of the platoons paralleling us six blocks away, I want them to report it.”

           
“Will do, Sir.
 
I already took the liberty of letting the point men know about our concerns.”

           
“Probably a good call.”

           
They walked past the first of the destroyed cars.
 
The roof was caved inward, and it drooped down enough that its weight crushed the headrests on both front seats.
 
The hood suffered a similar blow, bowing up around the blunt trauma in its center.

           
Something destroyed all the cars on the street in a similar manner, but it was the subtleties that he hadn’t seen from the air that concerned him.
 
Across the hoods, paint was scraped away in even lines, like something was dragged across the metallic surfaces, peeling away paint.
 
To Vance, it seemed like claws.

           
“Halo, this is Vance.”
 
He switched to his personal command net.

           
“Go ahead, Michael,” Halo’s sweet voice replied.

           
“Are you tracking any movement or heat signatures ahead of us?”

           
“Negative.
 
The coast looks clear all the way to the outpost on the far side of town.”

           
“Roger.”
 
He hoped to hear that hundreds of enemies were closing in.
 
He
hoped
to hear something was trying to kill him already.
 
Having nothing out there scared him.
 
Something obviously killed the city’s inhabitants and destroyed the cars.
 
The missing citizens built barricades to try to stop the unknown enemies from either entering or leaving the city.
 
The fact that they failed meant the enemies were intelligent and deadly.

           
“Keep watching for anything on the radar and let me know the second you find something.”

           
“You know I will, Michael.
 
Halo, out.”

           
The main group moved toward the business district, the buildings looming over them like gaunt giants.
 
With the sun just past its zenith, the buildings cast harsh shadows on the ground, leaving sections of the city blanketed in thick darkness.

           
Vance’s unease grew, as he watched the point men disappear into the shadows and begin searching the streets, surrounded by tall buildings.

           
“Sir, we’re beginning our search,” Roberts said over the radio.
 
“We recommend you hold up the main force until we have a chance to verify that the area is clear.”

           
“Good copy,” Decker said.

           
Vance ordered his group to stand fast.
 
They established a hasty defensive perimeter at their location.

           
Roberts and Gythrun slipped into deep shadows, their weapons ready.
 
Around them, empty storefronts stared back with shattered eyes.
 
The glass from the display windows lay scattered across the street as if smashed out with great force.
 
The faces of the buildings were marked by dark, glassless windows.
 
Like voids in an otherwise serene, reflective surface, each shattered window loomed like a potential ambush.

           
Roberts stooped and picked up a shard of glass.
 
The surface was marred by a splatter of brown.
 
Dried blood coated not just the piece of glass in his hand but also speckled the ground and vehicles lining the road.
 
Placing the glass down again, he and Gythrun moved deeper into the city.

           
Their weapons always at the ready, they walked on opposite sides of the street, constantly scanning darkened alleys and alcoves of storefronts, using the flashlights attached to their weapons to push back the shadows.
 
After clearing four city blocks of skyscrapers, Roberts gestured Gythrun to join him.

           
“The whole city’s dead.”
 
His eyes scanned the area, as he spoke.
 
“I can’t seem to find a single sign of a body, just blood everywhere.”

           
Gythrun held up his fist and opened it to reveal a severed finger.
 
The end that would’ve been attached to a knuckle was shredded, as if torn from the hand by great strength.

           
“This is all I was able to find so far, and it’s not that promising.”

           
“What the hell’s going on here?”

           
“I don’t know, but I recommend we hurry and finish our sweep, so we can all get to the outpost.
 
Regardless of what did this, it won’t get past the outpost’s automated defenses.
 
Sitting here, searching alleyway after alleyway in a dead city, is a huge waste of time.”

           
Foot-long shards of glass fell from a nearby skyscraper, shattering on the ground.
 
Both soldiers raised their weapons but didn’t see any movement.
 
Tracing the fallen glass upward, Roberts saw a broken window three floors up.
 
As he watched, another glass shard tumbled from inside the room and smashed against the sidewalk.

           
“Could’ve been gravity,” Gythrun said reasonably.
 
“Constant wear and tear.
 
It could’ve fallen on its own.”

           
“Or it could’ve been pushed, either by accident or on purpose to get our attention.
 
Either way, we need to check it out.”

           
Gythrun frowned, as Roberts activated his radio.

           
“Command, this is Roberts.”

           
“This is Command,” Vance replied.

           
“We’re moving into one of the buildings to check a noise.
 
We’ll be out of visual range once we’re inside.”

           
“Do you need backup?” Decker asked.

           
“Negative, Sir.”
 
He shared a knowing look with Gythrun.
 
“We think it was just loose glass breaking free.
 
The whole place is littered with the stuff, but we want to double-check, just to be sure.”

           
“Roger that,” Vance said, “but stay in radio contact.
 
If you run into trouble, don’t wait.
 
Call for us.”

           
“That’s a good copy.
 
Roberts, out.”

           
Turning off his radio, Roberts gestured Gythrun to follow him to the building’s front entrance.

           
A worn placard beside the tall double doors announced the building was an office for a financial firm.
 
Though the hammered metal boxes around the once-glass doors still stood, glass shards were strewn across the sidewalk.
 
Broken glass crunched underfoot, as the pair took positions on either side of the doors.
 
Leading with a strong beam from his flashlight, Roberts entered the foyer.

           
It had obviously been established to make a customer or client feel at home.
 
On either side of the entrance, just inside the room, two living room sets of furniture sat canted at angles.
 
The fabric covering the sofa and lounge chairs was high quality, imported from off world.
 
None of the furniture survived the assault.

           
The thickly carpeted area around the sofa was littered with white fluff, the innards of the highly stuffed furniture.
 
Large tears marred the seats and backs of the chairs, one of which lay on its back.
 
Moving into the foyer, the pair slid past a set of pillars and crouched low behind two large pots that once held vibrant plants, but the lack of care left them dead and withered.
 
Tall leaves hung limply over the sides of the clay pots.

           
Ahead, a semicircular receptionist’s table rested against the far wall.
 
The pair moved forward, their footsteps muted and silent on the carpeted floor.
 
A thin layer of dust coated the darkly lacquered surface.
 
Peering over the top, Roberts noted a splash of blood against a display screen, but there was no sign of the receptionist or anyone else.

           
A bank of elevators sat in an alcove left of the receptionist’s desk, but the lack of power left the elevators frozen and impotent.
 
Though the light was out above the elevator, a sign above a nearby doorway read
Stairs.

           
“Looks like we’re walking,” Roberts whispered, his soft voice carrying in the vaulted foyer.

           
He opened the door, while Gythrun slipped inside, his large wings folded tightly against his armored back.
 
Their flashlights barely lit the pitch-black stairwell, casting light only four or five floors up the silo-like internal staircase.

           
They moved cautiously.
 
One went to the next landing while the other remained below, his weapon trained on the stairs.
 
After moving up two flights, they stopped before a door marked with a large
3.

           
Breathing deeply, they opened the door and cast their lights down a narrow hallway.
 
A second hall ran to the left, leading deeper into the building’s core.
 
Gythrun glanced at it, but Roberts shook his head.
 
The room they wanted was ahead and to the right, its windows facing the main street.

           
The hall had two doors set against the right side before it ended in a large door that probably held a meeting room or large office.

           
They entered the hall, glad once again their footfalls were muffled on carpet.
 
Still, Roberts’ adrenalin coursed through his veins.
 
He tried to calm himself, as they reached the first door, but it was no use.
 
His heart pounded in his chest like a hammer trying to crack his protective armor.

           
Gythrun nodded, letting him know he was ready.
 
Roberts’ hand closed on the door handle.
 
Unlocked, it turned easily.
 
With a shove, he slid it open.

           
Both held their weapons ready to fire, but they looked into an empty office.
 
The still-intact window looked down on the street, allowing fading sunlight to filter through installed blinds.
 
Moving to the second room, they found it similarly furnished and had another intact window.