Metal and Ash (Apex Trilogy) (8 page)

LaFrance knew that when the emergency lights didn’t activate something beyond an attack was happening. A debate raged in his head: gather personnel and try to make a stand or assume it was an inside job and bug out ASAP. He was the commander of the outpost and was sworn by duty and honor to protect it at any cost.

Then the screams started as Control’s forces breached the outpost. Relentless gunfire directly ahead of him made the decision for LaFrance.

***

Shiner felt the worm try to penetrate his consciousness. It was hidden in the mech’s operations code and had been waiting for the signal to attack. He knew he couldn’t handle both the worm and the troops that were firing on him, so he uncoupled and leapt from the mech, severing the connection that would have allowed the worm to overtake his AI.

His BC body took hit after hit as all fire concentrated on him and he stumbled as he fell to the ground.

But unlike the metal he had been born into in the wasteland, the biochrome was malleable, responsive to his commands. His new body, his new being, reacted without separation and he formed his arms into long, sharp blades.

He came at the troops with a rage he didn’t know he held.

And they all fell.

***

Norton followed behind Morris and Knobel, the 9mm gripped firmly in his hand.

“Where are we going?” he whispered as they turned a corner at a crouch, waited, and then proceeded quickly to a door up ahead on the left. “Are we rendezvousing with your team, Knobel?”

“I have no idea where any of my people are,” Knobel replied. “We are getting to a sub-hatch that will take us down and out of here. The tunnel will be accessible from there.”

“So it’s just us three from here on out?” Norton asked.

“Yeah, dumbass!” Morris snapped. “Pay attention.”

“Oh, I am,” Norton said as he stood up and pointed the 9mm at the back of Morris’s head. He pulled the trigger. He then took aim at Knobel and fired again. “Maybe you two should’ve taken that advice.”

Norton activated his com as he looked down at the corpses and their splattered brains that covered the floor. “Norton reporting in,” he said over his com. “Knobel and Morris are neutralized.”

“We have 90% of the outpost secured,” a voice responded. “Still no confirmed kill on LaFrance or Campbell.”

“But the tunnel is secured, right?” Norton asked. “The worm should have activated by now and the Shiner bioborg incapacitated.” There was silence on the other end. “I repeat- the worm should have-.”

“We have lost contact with the forces in the tunnel,” the voice said. “Cannot confirm anything at this time.”

“Motherfucker,” Norton cursed as he turned and stalked to his control room. “All they had to do was take down one fucking BC mech. Is that so fucking hard?”

Ten

The trail wasn’t subtle. Blood and ATV tracks led off into the wasteland in plain view. Jenny worried about the amount of blood she was seeing and hoped the Rookie hadn’t been mortally wounded.

When she came across the first body she couldn’t help but smile. Whoever had been trailing them and then attacked, taking the Rookie with, hadn’t been prepared for who they were grabbing. The man’s face was crushed and he was missing an ear. Teeth marks were clearly visible.

“Ok, so where the fuck are you?” Jenny asked herself as she pushed scanners to full. “Why can’t I pick you fuckers up?”

She looked at her vid screen and the body at her mech’s feet. The man’s face was completely covered in primitive tattoos. Swirls and symbols nearly made his skin black/blue. She was born and raised in the wasteland and even though she grew up a Railer, on a Railer train, she’d thought she knew every tribe, cult, sect, and gang around.

She didn’t recognize the tattoos and that worried her more than the Rookie missing. Jenny continued to follow the tracks even though she had no idea what she was walking into.

***

As the sun began to set, the Rookie wished he could shield his face from the oppressive glare that was needling straight into his brain. He tried closing his eyes, but the blows to his head he’d taken made him dizzy and he was afraid he’d tumble from the ATV and be run over by the ones behind him, as he had been warned would happen. His hands were bound tightly behind his back and he gripped the ATV with his legs, hoping they didn’t hit a bump that would send him tumbling off the vehicle and to his death.

“He knew you’d be there,” the ATV driver said, his black-toothed grin making the Rookie feel more nauseous than he already was. “He ain’t stupid, no, no, no.”

The driver’s pants, since he didn’t wear a shirt over his grungy torso, were cobbled together from everything including, but not limited to, synth-burlap, thin pieces of metal, rope woven together, and tanned, human skin.

The Rookie didn’t need to ask who the driver was talking about; he had a very good idea.

“He ain’t gonna like hows you killed Stemp back there,” the driver continued. “That’s gonna make him mad.” The driver looked over at the Rookie and his face was torn by his huge grin. “He’s fun when he’s mad. Makes the slits do dances and shit. Then we’s get to fuck.”

“Sounds great,” the Rookie said through swollen lips. He could feel the blood on his face flake off. The blood was still flowing from the wounds in his legs and arms where he’d been hooked and yanked from the train. He knew he wasn’t going to get a chance to tend to the wounds. Not with what was in store for him.

“He still eat his meals alive?” the Rookie asked.

“Don’t everybody?” the driver asked. “Ain’t no fun less they scream and beg.”

“Fucking shit,” the Rookie mumbled.

He had grown up in a cannibalistic hell with a father that ruled his village like it was his personal feeding trough and brothel, handing out punishment on a whim and making sure everyone knew that living was not a right, but a privilege to be taken away at any psychotic moment.

The man that lay ahead of the Rookie, waiting to embrace him in his own psychotic arms, was a million times worse.

***

A rusted metal wall loomed ahead as the gang of ATVs sped across the wasteland. No cover, no hills, no mesas or plateaus gave the structure any shade or cover. The massive wall, several stories high, was as much a patchwork of materials as everything else with the Rookie’s captors.

As the ATVs neared, the Rookie could see that the wall wasn’t just made up of twisted scraps of metal and iron. Bodies hung from various spikes, hooks and poles. Many were strung up with wire threaded through their limbs, just waiting for the rotten flesh to give way and let the corpses fall to the dirt below.

And the dirt below was where the Rookie really focused. Deaders. Hundreds and hundreds of deaders, maybe even thousands, swarmed about the wall as it stretched for close to a mile in each direction before wrapping around and back, keeping those inside safe from the flesh-eaters outside. And captive with the flesh-eaters inside.

“You been to Eden ‘fore?” the driver asked the Rookie.

“No,” the Rookie said. “Didn’t know it existed.”

The driver glanced over at the Rookie and grinned his idiot, tooth-free grin. “You’s in for a treat.”

“I imagine I am,” the Rookie frowned, his eyes locked onto the mass of zombies that had turned towards them as the sound of the ATVs drew their attention. “We aren’t going through them, are we?”

“I heard you’s from the wasteland,” the driver said. “You’s da Boss’s kid. You ain’t afraid of no deaders is ya?”

“Not usually,” the Rookie said. “But that’s a lot of dead folk.”

“They like the scraps.”

“Right, I get that,” the Rookie nodded, humoring the driver. “But this isn’t exactly an armored vehicle.”

“No,” the Driver replied. “It ain’t.”

As the ATVs neared, the Rookie could hear the sound of metal scraping against metal. Then the ground in front of them erupted into flames, as a ten foot wide corridor through the deaders was scorched clear. Flames stayed on each side of the corridor, framing it and keeping the rest of the zombies from attacking the ATVs, as the vehicles sped towards the great wall.

A small door opened and several heavily armed men poured out, taking a position on each side of what the Rookie started to make out as a gate. The gate opened and let the ATVs through, then was quickly locked into place behind them.

“Home sweet home,” the driver said. Then punched the Rookie in the temple, knocking him out instantly.

***

The mech was crouched low, almost sitting on the hard packed dirt. Jenny lowered her binocs and took a deep breath. In all her traveling across the wasteland in the Railer train she’d never seen anything like what swallowed the ATVs. It was a massive fortress, surrounded by deaders, and covered in horrors she didn’t want to see.

“You are such a pain in the ass,” she muttered as she pondered what to do.

There was nothing but open ground between her and the fortress and she knew she’d be spotted in seconds in the mech. Her only choice was to rush the place and hope she had enough fire power and strength to get the Rookie out. Or to come up with another plan. She had no clue what the other plan would be though.

“Pain in my ass.”

Eleven

Slick with drool, Commander Capreze’s head popped up as the chime to his office rang.

“Yeah, uh, yeah, enter,” Capreze said as he wiped the drool from his cheek and tried to conceal the pool on his desk. His sleep patterns were messed up as always and he was crashing out without warning more and more.

At least in his dreams he could visit with Rachel, whether she was real or not.

“You wanted to see me, Commander?” Lt. Murphy asked. “Sorry I’m late. I was pretty grimy and needed to clean up.”

“Yes, come in,” Capreze said as he stretched and shook the sleep from his head.

“Was I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” Capreze smiled. He cleared his throat and continued. “Jethro has alerted me to the fact that three of my mech pilots are now deep in the wasteland and unaccounted for. Apparently Bisby tried to integrate with a dead mech and it hasn’t gone according to plan.”

“My team aren’t mech savvy, sir,” Lt. Murphy stated. “Not sure how we can help.”

“You can help by going and rescuing their asses,” Capreze said. “Jethro thinks they may be facing something new.”

“New, sir?”

“A mech religious cult.”

The room was silent as that sunk in.

“I…uh…did you say mech religious cult?” Lt. Murphy asked. “Mechs? Religion? Not following you, sir.”

“Jethro?” Capreze sighed.

“Okay, so here’s the story,” Jethro began.

***

Murphy’s team all gaped at her as she filled them in on their mission.

“You have got to be shitting me,” Specialist Sol said.

“No fucking way,” Specialist Grendetti followed.

Specialist Kafar just kept shaking his head.

“Get geared up for deep wasteland work and meet in the hangar in ten,” Murphy ordered. “Jethro is going to brief us as much as possible on the way.”

“Transport, sir?” Sol asked.

“Hybrid,” Murphy said.

“One of those things the Railers have been building?” Grendetti asked. “Have they been tested?”

“The one we’re gonna use has,” Murphy replied. “No integration. Manual like a transport, but mobile like a mech.”

“And with the firepower of a mech,” Sol added. “I’ve been spending as much time in the hangar as possible in case something like this occurred.”

“Ten, people,” Murphy said and clapped her hands. Her team scrambled.

***

“So who wants to drive?” Jethro asked over the com. “Any volunteers?”

The Special Ops Team all looked at Specialist Grendetti as they stepped into the space that looked like a mix between a mech and a transport cockpit. Six seats were spread evenly around the cockpit, each facing a massive vid screen instead of a windshield.

“What?” Grendetti asked. “Why me?”

“You love to drive,” Murphy said.

“I don’t love to drive,” Grendetti argued. “I love to blow shit up. Put me on weapons.”

“Every station has weapons and every station can drive,” Jethro said. “So just pick one. You can switch up instantly at any time.”

“You’re driving first,” Sol said to Grendetti as he took his seat.

The rest of the team sat down and strapped in as Grendetti grumbled.

“Take a seat, Specialist,” Murphy said.

“This sucks,” Grendetti bitched. “You realize I’ll probably break this thing before we get out of the hangar, right?”

“Breaking it is going to be hard to do,” Jethro said. The vid screens in front of each seat came alive and schematics of the Hybrid came up. “Four legs and no arms. Each leg is multi-jointed and heavily armored. These gams are stronger than the best mech we have. It would take several RPG direct hits to cripple this puppy.”

“So it’s a walking footstool?” Kafar joked. “Where’s the vid remote?”

“Shut it,” Murphy scolded. “Please continue, Jethro.”

“Each station is identical,” Jethro continued. “Piloting and weapons can be accessed at any time. However, if one station has piloting engaged then the next station cannot take over without controls being handed over intentionally or by emergency override. Please see the big red buttons at your station.”

“Which one does what?” Kafar asked.

“There’s pictures, dipshit,” Grendetti said. “It’s designed for idiots like us.”

“Exactly,” Jethro said. “One of you becomes incapacitated and the next person can take control of piloting or the specific weapons system by slamming that button home.”

“Let’s talk weapons,” Sol said.

“Forward and aft 50mm heavy-machine guns,” Jethro said. “Two up front and two behind. Although, technically, the Hybrid is symmetrical so there isn’t really a front and back.” Images came up on each vid screen. “As you can see there are no windshields. This means that no matter who is driving they control their own view. This goes for weapons also. You can switch views without switching seats.”