Hurt World One and the Zombie Rats (24 page)

‘What is it?’ Kaptu murmured.

‘The cloud five miles straight ahead doesn’t
look right.’

Kaptu looked that way. He immediately
realised which cloud she was referring to. While all the others
were wispy and carried the soft orange glow of the sunrise, this
one was black and dense and menacing. ‘You think it might rain?’ he
muttered.

Clorvine laughed tensely. ‘Yes, maybe. And it
is the kind of rain that will vaporise you. It is not a native
Congolese cloud. I would say it is fifty year old German.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Let me show you.’ She took a hard left turn,
the hovercraft whipping up a cloud of dust of its own.

The heavy black cloud came alive in a fury,
spitting streaks of lightning towards them in a fearsome storm of
fire and noise

‘How do you like that for rain?’ cried
Clorvine.

‘What the hell is it?’

‘Weaponised plasma cloud. It is considered
antiquated in Western countries, too slow moving for anything other
than scorched earth warfare. For certain African dictators,
however, that is just the kind of warfare that appeals.’

‘Plasma cloud?’ muttered Kaptu incredulously.
‘How do we shoot it down?’

‘We don’t. And if we had been caught directly
under the cloud, it would have spelt certain death. At this
distance, its missiles aren’t as accurate, but you can bet it’s
only a matter of time before it scores a direct hit.’

‘There isn’t a village for a hundred
miles.’

‘That wouldn’t change things anyway. These
people would annihilate an entire village without a second thought
just to get their target.’

‘Well, you seem to be heading somewhere.’

‘Nowhere good, I’m afraid. You’d better keep
your gun handy.’

The fireballs around them were far brighter
than the fledgling sun, illuminating rooftops and a tall, expansive
fern hedge stretching across the brown basin they were speeding
through.

‘It is the country estate of the former War
Minister Leon Barbi,’ Clorvine said. ‘No place for indiscriminate
bombing, even by a current president. It will be heavily guarded.
Almost suicidally so if Barbi is in residence.’

‘What a place for a holiday. The middle of
nowhere.’

‘If your pastime is torture and murder, the
location is just about ideal.’

Kaptu looked back at the cloud. It was fast
gaining ground, its explosions pelting the hovercraft with debris.
Clorvine held her line for the Barbi estate knowing that any
attempts to dodge and weave would only slow them fatally.

‘We won’t have time to knock on the front
door,’ she said and gestured to a leather bag on the backseat. ‘Get
that, will you?’

Kaptu wrestled the bag off the seat and
peered inside. It reminded him of McRaven’s travel bag but was even
more packed with weapons. There were guns and grenades and knives.
‘Not bad for a park ranger,’ Kaptu murmured.

‘It belongs to my boyfriend. He leaves
weapons lying around the house all over the place and this morning
I tidied them up.’

Amongst the weapons was a pair of binoculars.
Kaptu turned them on the Barbi estate. Beyond the hedges there was
a towering marble citadel, resplendent with hanging plants that
dripped colour from roof to floor. On either side of the citadel
there were elaborate fountains shooting garishly coloured water
high into the air. Further back in the estate, there was a majestic
chateau with tall windows set in grand arches of grey stone and
each with an iron balcony adorned with wild flowers.

‘Nice place,’ Kaptu murmured.

‘It is said Barbi modelled his garden on the
Hanging Garden of Babylon. I have never been this close myself. And
if we were doing it in anything heavier than a hovercraft, we would
already be dead. We are travelling over one of the most extensive
minefields in the Congo.’

‘That helps to explain why the whole world
seems to have turned into a fireball.’

There was an abrupt silence as the rocket
fire ceased. Clorvine smirked as she realised why. ‘We’re close
enough to the estate that the plasma cloud can no longer risk
firing at us. We’re safe.’

‘You must be putting a lot of faith in the
hovercraft’s armour plating to be considering us safe.’

‘That’s a fair point. Barbi employs
ex-soldiers as gardeners and cleaners. You can surmise from the
size of his residence how many gardeners and cleaners are going to
be shooting at us.’

The plasma cloud had only just become dormant
when it was the hedges turn to erupt into gunfire. The ordinance
may have been smaller, but there was a lot more of it. The
hovercraft was becoming completely inundated, the glass windscreens
cracking and side panels falling off. By the time it reached the
hedges, Kaptu was wondering if it would have strength enough left
to smash its way through. When the moment came, however, it managed
it convincingly, sending a few of the War Minister’s soldiers
flying as it did. The gardens meanwhile reveled themselves to be
every bit as beautiful as they had appeared in the distance. A true
Hanging Garden of Babylon. The gunfire, nevertheless, was
unrelenting. A rear window in the hovercraft finally gave,
showering Kaptu and Clorvine in glass splinters and increasing the
volume of the gunfire to a deafening pitch. Kaptu seized the
opportunity to return gunfire, unleashing out the window a
firestorm of bullets from the guns of Clorvine’s boyfriend,
scattering the soldiers-cum-gardeners that had been converging from
every direction. Those who were too defiant or slow to move were
cut down by the searing onslaught. Clorvine caught others with the
hovercraft bumper bar. Manicured plants were fairing little better
as she ploughed across the garden in the direction of a large
double-door garage.

‘Get ready,’ said Clorvine. ‘Beyond those
doors are some of the fastest rockets in Africa. If you want to
travel safely in these parts, that’s the kind of transport that’s
required. The former Minister for War is known to have a collection
the equal of the Congolese Air Force itself. I trust you can fly a
rocket pod.’

A man in a straw gardening hat jumped in
front of the hovercraft with a mobile missile launcher in hand,
taking aim at the front windscreen. He was a step too late,
however, and merely became a part of the hovercraft’s impact with
the garage doors. Kaptu turned away from the grisly sight. He
noticed immediately the rank of shiny dark blue rocket pods,
positioned on launch ramps at a forty five degree angle. The
possession of such machines in Asylum City was illegal punishable
by death but simulators were commonplace, allowing long suffering
residents to at least roleplay the act of escape.

‘Yes, I can,’ he finally replied.

‘Then prep one. Its systems require one
minute to fully activate. I’ll keep our friends away in the
meantime.’

Kaptu handed her the bag of weapons. ‘A
useful boyfriend to have.’

‘Before you get too carried away with
gratitude, you might want to know he is a commanding officer in the
Weaponised Cloud Squadron. She dropped down from the hovercraft’s
side hatch and ripped into the first soldiers appearing through the
decimated doors. ‘Texas in twenty minutes is too long for my
liking,’ she yelled and edged closer to the doors with her guns on
rapid fire. ‘These can do it in ten.’

Kaptu ascended the ramp of the nearest rocket
pod and swung inside the narrow doorway. The controls were familiar
enough that he did not need to pay much heed to the French
instructions. He inputted the coordinates for Texas and as the
engine began to stir and the launch ramp rise into position, he
took the opportunity to make radio contact with Renaissance.

‘This is Kaptu Z,’ he said. ‘Search for the
sea vessel Kudos. Suspected location somewhere in the Pacific
Ocean. Top priority.’

The launch hatch was opening to a colourful
sunrise and the dark edge of the emerging sun and Kaptu was glad
Texas was that way. The plasma cloud, however, was hovering in
between, far lower than all the other clouds and as menacingly
dense as ever.

There was a series of explosions from the
garage’s main entrance, the whole structure shuddering. Clorvine
came diving into the rocket pod. ‘I just emptied the gun bag,’ she
said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

‘You’d better buckle up,’ said Kaptu. ‘Your
boyfriend is still loitering out there in his cloud. And I get the
feeling some hot rain is in the forecast.’

The rocket pod’s door slid closed just in
time to deflect a burst of angry gunfire from the soldiers of the
former War Minister.

‘Well, no one said breakups are easy,’ said
Clorvine as the harness-restraints pressed her back against her
seat.

With a massive jolt that had their chins
pressing against their necks, the rocket pod shot into the sky. The
plasma cloud instantly came to life, spitting out a string of
missiles in a spectacular display of blue flame that belied its
deadly purpose. The rocket pod evasively accelerated through the
fast closing trap leaving a massive explosion in its wake as the
warheads detonated en masse. Like a mosquito eluding a swatting
hand, the rocket pod was away. And seconds later it was within the
stratosphere. Pinned to his seat by the powerful G-forces, Kaptu’s
eyes drifted down to Renaissance’s reply message flashing on the
control screen.
Search for the Kudos initiated.
But understand that the Pacific Ocean is a very big
place.

24 Assault on the Meltman

The surgeon stood with his arms tightly
folded in his white hospital garb. He was old, obviously highly
experienced and was nervous despite himself - far more used to the
fading gaze of a patient receding into death than the raw, wildly
alive gaze of someone he suspected was extremely dangerous,
possibly even a killer, and a real killer at that, not one of those
pitiful drug addicts lost within a raging paranoia and a
kaleidoscope of hallucinations. This woman confronting him in the
Emergency Admissions waiting area was lucid and sharp. The doctor
was relieved he had good news to impart. His eyes shied away from
her intimidating stare and he smiled meekly. ‘Your mother is going
to make a full recovery.’

Mas did not even blink. ‘She’ll be happy to
hear that.’

The surgeon glanced at those around them in
the waiting area, wanting to be comforted by the normal: a mixture
of industrial, farming and household injuries. That was a typical
day at the Anchorage Central Hospital. La Pack had been an
exception, her shoulder ripped open by gunshot. Seriousness enough
for her to be moved to the front of the queue without Mas having to
make it so.

‘She will, however, need to rest her shoulder
a couple of weeks. We’ve had to replant her circulatory system in
that region.’

‘I see.’

The surgeon frowned. ‘I’ve waited until her
condition stabilised before raising the subject but the wounds are
consistent with gunfire and so it is mandatory that the authorities
are notified.’

‘Her condition may have stabilised but the
situation certainly hasn’t,’ replied Mas with a scowl. ‘By getting
involved in that matter, you may only be creating more work for
yourself.’

The surgeon stiffened and there was a nervous
twitch in his cheek. Mas did not view harshly those so easily
threatened. She couldn’t see a world running particularly well if
everyone was like her. She patted the doctor on the shoulder. ‘My
advice, Dr Francotti, is to send her on her way as quickly as you
can and dismiss anything she says or does as the bitterness of old
age.’

The surgeon swallowed a lump. ‘I will keep
that in mind. I can allow you three minutes to see her, if you’d
like.’

‘That won’t be necessary. I’ve seen her
enough.’

Mas left the hospital quickly, already late
for the appointment that really mattered.

*

The Anchorage Port was a hive of activity
with its docking facilities being shared by fishing boats, ferries,
cruise ships and container vessels. The Fish Market was a gathering
point for many of the passengers and crew, attracted to its
bustling stalls and irresistible products of the sea. Titov, the
Kudos captain, was waiting for Mas by a counter piled with Blue Fin
Tuna. She was starkly pale, suffering the toxic combination of
being on land and in fear of arrest or, with Mas, anything was
possible.

‘The rest of the crew are hiding in the
market and will try to kill you if I’m damaged,’ she said
bluntly.

‘I should be offended, but I get it. After
all, you were there when I killed your previous captain.’

‘Have you already forgotten his name?’

‘I’m not sure I ever knew it.’

‘You know full well it was Dragon Tay.’

‘That’s right, and the bird that shot him was
only an eagle.’

Titov held out an alumodic memory stick.
‘There’s a boat moored at Pier 9 Bay 16. The coordinates enclosed
here will take it to the Zopez. That’s assuming payment is made by
the ten mile limit. Otherwise, you will be left to drift in quite a
few little pieces.’

Mas plucked the stick out of her hand. ‘Fair
enough.’

‘And I hope your time aboard the Zopez is
going to be short. The passengers in the hold will not be contained
for long.’

‘How are they?’

‘Fat, hungry and mean. The nastiest rodents
I’ve ever seen.’

‘That’s good to hear. I can guarantee you
will get paid but I can’t guarantee your safety. You know a
half-secret. And even that is enough to get you killed. Take your
cut and start a new life. Don’t look back.’

‘Look back at what?’

Mas nodded. ‘Exactly. Look back at what?’

*

The Texas Air Force Base was in lockdown, the
skies and tarmac cleared for the Mach 99 Ultra Speed Jet. Parked on
Launch Pad One the engines were still glowing red hot. For ten
minutes it had been circling the deserts of Wyoming. Marco McRaven
and John Leroy Scope were on the tarmac, waiting with cigarettes in
their mouths.