Necropolis (6 page)

After the first hour, he opened up a line with Kyra and started talking.

“
So, you said you got shipped out to the wasteland under...unpleasant conditions. What happened?” he asked after they had gone through a few minutes of generic dialogue.

“
I...my boss...liked me. A lot. He was one of those dominating types who thought me saying 'No, go fuck yourself', over and over again was just ‘playing hard to get’. So, one night, he showed up at my quarters, drunk, and...I had to break his nose.”

“
Sounds like he got what he deserved.”

“
Yeah. Well, turns out he had some friends higher up the food chain. Friends with pull. He was pissed. They covered it up, had me transferred to the shittiest job he could find. Running comms maintenance in the middle of nowhere.”

Greg remained silent for a few moments. He was almost done with the dormitory building. He'd finished searching the individual rooms and now completed a full search of the rec room. All he'd managed to find was one pistol, hidden beneath a mattress.

“How did you take it?” he finally asked.

“
Good, at first. I just wanted to be away from that asshole. And I guess I've never been the most social of people...but it got to me after about a week. I couldn't just up and leave the base and head for the nearest bar or store or wherever else I wanted to go. The thing I missed the most was being able to just walk around the city...I tried to supplement it with walks in the wasteland, but it just didn't compare.”

Greg finished his search in silence, mulling over her words. He’d already decided to take everything he found to the security room, where he could double check it, and then organize it. He wasn't sure, but he was beginning to suspect that he had a love for categorization and organization. He left the dorms building.

“How long were you out here?” He broke the silence, again.

“
Two months until the unholy menace showed up.”

Greg came into the comms building, moving into the security center. He set the pistol down on the table and made a note on his infopad.

“You find anything?”
Greg jumped, startled by her sudden inquiry in the dead quiet that enveloped him.

“
Just a pistol, otherwise the dorms are empty.”

“
Well, better than nothing I guess. I'm done here at the power station, and I looked through what few hiding places there might be out here, so you can mark it off the list. I think I'll take a break from fixing things and help you with inventory.”

“
That'd be nice.”

They tackled the pair of supply sheds together. The first shed they didn't bother with, as it contained nothing but spare parts for the power plant. The second shed, however, they hunted through for medical supplies. Most of it was merely spare parts for the larger pieces of equipment, but they managed to piece together a trio of military-grade medical field kits.

The third supply shed held nothing of any particular interest.

“
Man, this place is pretty shit-outta-luck when it comes to supplies, huh?” Kyra murmured as they stowed the three kits in the security center.

“
Yeah, sure seems like it.” Greg made a note on his infopad. “It's looking more and more like we're going to have to hit up those other outposts...it'll be a bit of a gamble. I mean, if a few more nights like last night happen...we'll be out of ammo, but then how much ammo would we risk if we go to another outpost and have a shootout?”

“
Who dares, wins,” Kyra replied after a contemplative moment.

“
That sounds familiar.”

“
Old military saying...from the SAS originally, I think.”

“
Well, you've got a point. Let's go check out the infirmary.”

They spent another two hours straightening up and searching the infirmary building. They had to throw most of the medical supplies out, as they had been covered in potentially contaminated blood. By the end of it, they were somewhat satisfied with another trio of medical kits. They headed back for the main building.

“Should we eat now?” Greg’s stomach growled.

“
I want to finish this first, and then we can eat,” Kyra replied. As they hunted through the final structure, Cage informed them that he was coming down to help. The hunt went faster with his help. They saved the mess hall for last, managing to locate a pair of refrigerated moving crates.

“
We should fill these with food and drink, in case we find a better place to live with other survivors or need to leave here fast,” Kyra suggested.

They did just that, toiling in silence. Greg found it difficult to work around the food and not eat. When they were finally done, leaving the refrigerated crates plugged in, Kyra began to rummage around for food.

“Why don't you two go and re-park the jeeps somewhere not as visible, like on the far side of the dormitories, and I'll make some food,” she suggested.

Greg was too hungry to argue, so he just nodded and made for the exit. Cage followed in equal silence. They trudged out into the rain and moved the trio of jeeps. Greg was depressed by the low amount of ammunition the soldiers had on them when first going over their bodies, then their jeeps. It seemed as if they were in as desperate a situation as he, Kyra, and Cage were.

And they had to go and be assholes...

They parked the three jeeps, then made their way back inside. The sun was disappearing from the sky, twilight falling with the rain. By the time they made their way back to the mess hall, Kyra had the food made and set out.

“I think we should scout out at least one of the other outposts tomorrow.” Greg paused to make this suggestion when he realized how fast he was eating.

Kyra grinned at him. “There's a map in the local database. We can access it from the security center. We can see what's closest.”

“I think it would be Polaris,” Cage said quietly.

“
Polaris?” They both glanced over at him.

“
It's a weather-based research center about five miles from here.”

“
So be it then, we'll investigate Polaris tomorrow at dawn.”

They continued eating.

Chapter 08

–
Polaris
–

When Greg woke the next morning, he felt better than he had in a while. He'd taken first watch to allow Cage some sleep. The man slept only four hours and then took watch the rest of the night. Greg worried about him falling asleep on the job, as he'd had so little sleep in the days since they met him. He got the feeling, however, that it would be an insult to bring it up. So he'd just gone to sleep and kept the pistol close at hand.

The sunlight that came through the window was as bright as it had been since his memories began. Greg stood, popped his various joints, and took a shower. By the time he finished dressing, he realized that his life began to resemble a routine. It gave him comfort. When Kyra was done showering, they made for the mess hall.

“How much do you know about Polaris?” Kyra asked once breakfast was served.

“
Not much beyond the fact that it’s a weather station. Small population, I imagine. It's about five miles away.” Cage took a bite of the reconstituted eggs.

“
Good. We can make it there pretty quick in one of the jeeps.” Kyra drank some of her coffee and spooned up another heap of eggs.

“
We should take two jeeps, in case we find survivors or supplies,” Greg suggested.

Kyra glanced at him and grinned. “Good call.”

Greg allowed himself a small smile and kept eating.

* * * * *

While the rain had disappeared, the omnipresent cloud cover still hung in a dull, iron gray overhead, blotting out most of the sun. Greg stared up at it as they crossed the rocky ground toward the jeeps.

“
Why didn't we park these inside?” Cage walked beside him.

Greg gave a shrug and a little laugh. “No idea. Guess we'll do that when get back.”

Cage opted to drive alone, so Greg climbed into the driver's seat and started up the jeep. Kyra slipped in next to him and they headed off into the gray wastelands. For several minutes they drove in silence, forced to keep the speed low because of the uneven terrain. Greg was sure that the all-terrain vehicle could probably handle more speed, but after everything that had happened so far, he felt like playing it safe.

Greg thought about things as they drove, about his past, his memories, about Kyra, and Cage. What kind of name was Cage anyway? It sounded like the kind of name that someone gave themselves. He found Cage remote, yet comforting in a way. Almost like having a security system that followed you around.

Kyra was another story.

More often than not, Greg's thoughts drifted toward her. He wondered if he was an idiot in his past life. He didn't
feel
stupid, well, not most of the time, but did stupid people actually know that they were stupid?

It seemed silly to think about sex in the middle of a life-threatening crisis. Although, things
had
settled down...

Greg sighed, irritated at the hurricane of thoughts.

“You okay over there?” Kyra played with the built-in database mounted on the dashboard.

“
Yeah. Fine.”

Greg might be confused about his feelings for Kyra, but he wasn't confused about telling her that. She’d been nice lately, and yet...Greg couldn't shake the feeling that she kept expecting him to betray her. It was fair, he supposed. One thing he
did
remember was that trust was earned, hard to come by, and very fragile.

“
So what if we don't find the part we're looking for here?” Greg decided he'd rather talk than sit in silence.

“
Well, there are three other outposts within reasonable driving distance. Two of them are the bases that Cage and I came from...though I'd be reluctant to return to my own. And there's a mining installation. If we don't find what we're looking for here, we can check those out.” Kyra didn’t look at him, instead opting to continue messing with the database.

“
And if there's no luck at any of those?”

Now she looked over at him. “Then we say a prayer and check out what's in the basement.”

Greg didn't think that was a good idea, but kept it to himself. Kyra seemed agitated. Up ahead, he saw the outline of the weather station. It appeared to be little more than a large, three-story structure with a vast array of monitoring equipment set into the top and sides of it.

“
And there it is,” Kyra murmured. “Weather Research Station Number Thirty One.”

Greg scanned the immediate area for movement, but saw nothing. When they were within ten meters of the structure, they braked and shut down the jeeps. Greg stepped out, sniffed the air, and brought his shotgun into play.

He couldn't smell anything but wet wasteland air.

Greg adjusted the shoulder strap so that the shotgun hung more comfortably and glanced at the others. They seemed competent and ready for action. For a moment, it made him feel inadequate. Here were two trained killers and he was just a guy with memory loss who only had his reflexes. Greg was glad that they were at least good reflexes.

He shook off the feeling and focused. Sharp. He needed to be sharp for this.

“
We should try short-range radios,” Cage suggested.

Kyra and Greg agreed, so he activated his and called out to anyone that might be alive nearby.

There was no response but the lonely silence.

The trio advanced on the structure. Greg watched the windows, the main entryway into the building, the corners...there was nothing, just cold desolation. They all came to the front door and hesitated. Finally, Cage hit the access button. The doors slid open to reveal a lengthy stretch of barren corridor.

Cage slipped into the building. “I'll take point.”

His sniper rifle rested on his back, his pistol clasped in his hands. Greg and Kyra backed him up, following him in. Greg studied the corridor as they stepped into it. Doors were stamped into the walls on either side at irregular intervals. The hallway ended in closed elevator doors. After checking their radios, they decided to split up to cover more ground. They cleared the rooms one by one, moving with care. The first room Greg came to appeared to be a break room.

It was cramped and square, holding a pair of couches wedged into an L shape along the back and left walls, a pair of mini-fridges, a microwave on a counter in another corner, and a coffee table with a stained, scarred surface in the center. The place felt lived in, like everyone just up and left a moment ago.

Greg found a congealed burrito in the microwave. He left it where it was and finished his search. There was nothing of use in the break room. He shifted his hunt down the corridor, to a white-tiled bathroom. He pushed open all the stall doors with the barrel of his shotgun, finding nothing but an ugly, unflushed surprise in the last stall. He glanced out the single window in the room, and saw nothing but stark desolation.

Greg left the bathroom, checking in with the others. They had found nothing so far. He wondered if the infection had even hit here. Maybe they had just up and left. It made him feel hopeful. If they'd just up and left, they should have left their comms system intact.

“
I've got something. A corpse.”
Cage's cold voice cut through the silence, causing Greg to jump in surprise. He was glad no one else was with him in the corridor.

“
Where are you?”
Kyra’s voice was doubled as she stepped out into the main hallway with Greg.

“
End of the corridor. Left side. Dorms.”

They followed Cage's instructions and entered a smaller, narrower corridor with four doors on either side, each one equally spaced apart. He stood outside the last one on the left. Greg peered into the dormitory, finding it squat and squalid, hardly large enough to be called a bedroom, let alone living quarters.

A single corpse lay in the center of the room, its head mostly gone, a spray of black blood on the wall behind it. The pale, diseased thing lay in a pool of its own thick gore. It wore a light green jumpsuit and had once been a man.

“
Looks like they weren't spared,” Kyra murmured.

They searched the room, and with much care, the body, but there was nothing useful tucked away. They left the dorms and finished up the search of the first floor, finding another corpse, what looked like a suicide, hidden away in a storage room. No gun, though. They left the first floor and ascended to the second, opting to use a narrow stairwell.

The second story consisted of an infirmary and a mess hall.

The mess hall was clean, though they were disappointed to find most of the food had been cleared out. The infirmary was a bloody mess, though there were no bodies. Greg decided to see if he could dole out orders. While there had been no actual chain of command established, they seemed to be willing to do what he wanted.

“Cage, can you start going through this stuff, put together some field medical kits?” Greg asked. So maybe it wasn't an order, but why push? Cage looked at him, only for a second, then nodded and went to work.

“
So you have no idea what rank you are, do you?” Kyra asked as they ascended to the third story.

Greg shook his head. “No, no idea. My nametag was damaged.”

“I see. Well, technically, I'm obligated to follow Cage's orders. Since he's a Corporal and I'm just a Lance, but he seems comfortable enough answering to you...it'd be funny if you turned out to be a Private.”

“
Maybe I'm a Sergeant.”

“
Maybe...but I don't think so. You just don't have a Sergeant feel to you.”

“
I
did
lose my memory,” Greg stated a bit roughly as he came to his own defense.

Kyra shrugged and they came to the top story. It was one large room crammed full of equipment that ran a ring around the walls.

Almost all of them were dead or showing static. The front wall was made of glass, some of which was cracked and bloodied, giving a great view of a terrible landscape. This, however, wasn’t what held Greg's and Kyra's attention.

“
Oh, no...” Kyra moaned, staring at the communications booth. It spat sparks and bled smoke. Someone had emptied a clip or two from a machine gun into it. Greg took to checking over the area while Kyra sat down at the console. He walked over to a door at the back of the room and checked in with Cage.

“
I've managed to piece together one field kit so far, though I have minimal hope for getting more than another. This infirmary has been cleared out,”
he reported.

Greg gave him an affirmative response and opened the door. He was pleased to discover a small security center with a pair of weapons lockers at the back. He was less than pleased to see that they were both ajar and empty.

He did a check anyway and came up with nothing. Since both Kyra and Cage were still busy, Greg spent a bit more time poking through the security system, trying to see if there was any footage left.

After ten minutes, he gave up with a frustrated sigh. If there was any relevant footage of the past few days, he couldn't find it. Greg stepped back into the main room. Kyra was still at the console, her face a mask of frustration.

“Any luck?”

She let out an explosive, disgusted sigh, and stood up. “No. This thing has been fucking
ruined
.” She flung her arm at the mess. “The part we need was shredded by gunfire. Fuck...maybe it's in storage.”

“
Maybe...though I didn't see a storage room for anything electrical and this place doesn't have a basement.”

“
It must be an exterior structure then,” Kyra surmised. “Come on.”

They left the third story, stopping by the infirmary. Cage just finished up his second field kit. He snapped the case shut, attached it to his belt, and followed them back down to the first story. Greg was unnerved by the feel of abrupt abandonment that permeated through the building. He wondered where they all were now.

The three of them went back outside and the wasteland chill ate at Greg's skin. His uniform was full body, and he'd pulled on a bulletproof vest over it, unwilling to be caught with his pants down a second time if more asshole soldiers showed up, yet he still felt the cold. He wondered if these suits had heating elements in them.

He had a vague inclination that they did, but couldn't remember.

Greg and the others made a slow circuit around the primary structure. He spied a square of dark gray concrete that suggested a landing pad, set on the opposite side of the building.

“
What-” Kyra was a little ahead of them. “Oh, you have
got
to be shitting me.”

Greg came around the side of the building, where there were once storage sheds were now little more than bits and pieces, strewn across the pad and the ground.

“They detonated the supply sheds,” Cage whispered. “Why would they do that?”