Quake (64 page)

Simmo smiled.

‘You are a lucky, lucky man,’ said Kattenheim softly.

Simmo shrugged, initiating the ignition sequence on the package of HighJ explosive. Red digits started to flicker across the tiny digital display.

Kattenheim watched him impassively.

Simmo tossed the HighJ package to the ground beneath Kattenheim’s protruding upper body. Kattenheim glanced down, and gave The Sarge a sickly sweet smile.

When his stare met Simmo’s his anger vanished, to be replaced by a kind of deep sadness. A melancholy, or nostalgia; a realisation that his time had come.

‘I will save you a place in Hell - at my feet,’ he said, a blood-slick grimace twisting his lips.

‘The Nex don’t earn a place in Hell,’ snarled Simmo, and turning, started to sprint up the slope, injured body listing to one side, blood pouring over his face and into his eyes, making him almost blind. He dived behind a low wall of rocks—

And heard the click of detonation ...

Whirling, falling to lie on his back on the slope, Simmo, half screened, watched a column of flame flare skywards. A deep concussive blast rolled out. Superheated air washed over him and he watched droplets of liquid metal start to rain down, setting fire to the trees around the blast zone.

Flames roared—

And then slowly died.

Wearily, Simmo dragged himself back to his feet and continued up the steep slope under the gaze of Rogowski, who was nursing his shoulder.

Reaching the top, Simmo slumped to the ground and stared back down at the purple fires.

‘You OK, Sarge?’

‘Aye, lad.’

‘That fucker had it coming.’

Simmo cocked his head at Rogowski and saw the look of hatred there. ‘Yeah, a fucking Nex, eh, lad? I suppose they all have it coming?’ he said sardonically.

‘All
the fuckers should burn.’

Simmo sighed, lying back on the hard trail. Tiny stones pressed into his back, into his hands, into his skull, and he could feel the flow of fresh blood running into his eyes. And a terrible deep sadness filled him, flowed through his body and ate like acid through his soul.

What a fucking world we live in, he thought sombrely.

What a world.

Carter’s pain fled. Was forced aside. Kade’s hand was hanging limp. It dived into Carter’s pocket and pulled free the MercG. In the blink of an eye it activated, humming softly, and Kade whipped it above his head where it sliced cleanly through ten inches of ancient parapet, carving a neat arc of stone that dropped silently away towards the distant courtyard below. The high-tech garrotte swung on into Jam’s leg, producing a spray of thick dark blood. A shot from the Browning echoed across the courtyard as Jam stumbled back howling and Kade felt something nick his ear. He frowned. ‘Untidy,’ he whispered.

Scrabbling against the ice, Kade was forced to drop the MercG. He grunted, cursing as it disappeared into the white expanse below. He dragged himself up onto the parapet and glanced over at Jam, who was lying on his back, a huge slice carved from his leg, the wound pumping blood into the snow. Kade leapt down and moved forward as Jam dragged himself to his feet. With a roar, he charged ...

Kade moved in a blur and they met, fists crashing against heads, Jam’s claws striking against Kade’s chest. Then they whirled away from each other in sprays of blood.

They circled, leaving vivid trails through the snow.

‘That hurt, did it, fucker?’ mocked Kade, grinning.

‘Shut up.’

‘You’ll walk like a fucking donkey tomorrow ... if you walk at all -’ Kade launched himself at Jam and again they crashed into one another, claws and fists beating and pounding. Jam slipped on the ice and fell backwards with Kade diving atop him, fists slamming. Jam’s knee came up but Kade twisted, head-butting Jam’s face twice before rolling free. Jam rolled, lightning-swift, armoured leg lashing out and knocking Kade’s feet from under him ... and for long moments they scrabbled on the snow until Kade’s stare fixed on the Browning.

He leapt for the weapon, fingers curling around the familiar solid stock and as it came around in a blur of dark metal Jam bludgeoned down with all the might of both locked claws—

There was a sickening crack ...

And Kade’s arm hung limp as the Browning skittered through the snow.

Kade danced back, twisting to keep the injured and obviously broken arm away from Jam. He glanced down and saw bone protruding from flesh and cloth. He winced, but channelled away the pain for later use.

Jam nodded.

‘You cannot win.’

‘Ha!’ said Kade. ‘I’ll fuck you from behind and then piss on your mother!’

Jam launched himself at Kade, who stumbled back, blood pumping from his broken arm. Kade slipped on the ice, went down hard, head smashing against the parapet. Stars flashed bright in his mind and Jam placed his heavy armoured foot against Kade’s throat - against
Carter’s
throat ...

They halted briefly, sprinkled with white, like frozen sculptures in ice. Then Jam pressed down, using his heavy weight and his bulk. Kade choked, and with his good arm beat against Jam’s injured blood-pumping leg. But Jam did not flinch and did not cry out in pain. He ignored the beating like a man ignores the ineffectual slap of a child.

‘Fuck you, fuck you!’ screamed Kade, face red with impotent fury.

Calmly, Carter took control from Kade and colour flooded back into his vision. With it came pain, smashing up from the broken arm and the pressure in his throat and he looked up at Jam, at those evil slitted eyes. Tears streamed down his face.

‘You cry?’ Jam lessened the pressure a little and stooped, staring hard into Carter’s face. ‘You’ve changed, Carter. What happened then? It was as if you were a different person.’

‘It wasn’t me,’ choked Carter. ‘It was Kade. The fucker always claims he will get the job done, get the killing done ... but he fucked up this time, didn’t he? He has left us both to die ...’

‘Kade?’ whispered Jam, copper eyes hooded.

Carter could hear the distant roar of engines - and something else, a distant growling like that of a—

Quake.

‘Jam, you and me - we’ll both die,’ snarled Carter through blood and saliva, his tears hot against his cheeks. ‘Durell is betraying you even as he has you do his dirty work. I didn’t realise you had stooped so low, Jam, I didn’t realise your past and your friendships meant so little.’

Jam’s head tilted. He removed the pressure from Carter’s throat and moved across the snow, to where the small silver box nestled against the stone flags.

Carter watched him warily.

Beneath him, the castle began to vibrate.

‘The quake’s coming
,’ hissed Kade. ‘
Run!
’

‘Fuck off,
pussy.
I don’t need
your
advice.’

Jam returned and dropped to a stoop beside Carter. He pushed the box out, held clumsily in his dark claws. His eyes were narrowed copper slits and Carter scowled in confusion.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Take it. Go. Save Natasha.’

‘
What?’

Jam stood, rearing to his full height. And then he
roared,
a terrifying sound that mingled with the cacophony of the approaching earthquake. It echoed around the bleak walls of the castle, filled with anger, hatred and pure frustration ...

Carter scrambled to his feet, clutching the ornate box. He flicked it open, and within nestled the dark disc - the Avelach. The healing machine that he could use to bring Natasha back from the brink of death ...

Jam dropped to a crouch, then stood once more. He was breathing deeply, panting, his stare fixed on Carter as he wrestled with inner demons.

‘Why, Jam?’

‘A present. From an old friend.’

The castle started to groan, and the walls began to sway. Parts of the battlements suddenly fell away, dropping to the distant courtyard where they impacted and exploded, showering the courtyard with stone shrapnel.

‘Go, Carter. Go now.’

‘I need to know why.’

Jam smiled then, and for just an instant Carter caught a glimpse of his old friend, a glint of the man who had been Jam - imprisoned within the shell of the ScorpNex.

‘We all have our internal battles,’ said Jam softly. ‘Yours is Kade. Mine is - a different kind.’

Carter started to back away, towards the stairwell. The whole castle was shaking now as the quake took it and the mountains in its fist. Distant avalanches rocked the steep sides of the valleys, millions of tonnes of rock and ice and snow tumbling from high reaches and crushing the world beneath—

‘You know what Kade is? You
know
him?’ said Carter.

‘Yes.’

‘Tell me!’

But the world was descending into insanity ...

‘Go!’ screamed Jam.

Carter turned to run, pain and panic driving him.

‘And Carter?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Tell Nicky I love her.’

Carter nodded, and disappeared into the darkness of the winding stairwell. Through the falling snow Jam stared long and hard at the spot where Carter had been -and then turned towards the tower, the tower containing Durell and the QuakeHub and the core of all Jam’s misery, pain, confusion, frustration and loss.

Evolution, he had said.

An evolution of the body - but a regression of the mind.

With a grim look, Jam stalked across the buckling stone flags of the battlements towards the dark confines of the tower and his mentor within.

The quake was rumbling, smashing across the Austrian landscape, shaking the mountains in the fury of its clenched and threatening fists. On the slope leading to the castle stood Simmo, Mongrel, Rogowski, Mo, Haggis, Remic, Fegs, Oz, Kavanagh, Root Beer and Samasuwo. Bob Bob was rubbing at the custard stains on his combats and muttering about detergents; everybody else was staring at the SP57 tanks, their engines roaring as their guns pounded the occasional shell into the shuddering castle.

The whine of abused engines howled through the sky. The gathered men cocked weapons in weary hands and turned to watch the Comanche settle into the snow-slush on the trail, its suspension bobbing.

The Priest stepped out, sandals slopping in the snow and robes whipping madly in the down draught of the war machine’s rotors. He was followed by a woman, tall and slim and pale-skinned, with a long fan of brown hair worn loose across her shoulders and with piercing green eyes set in a pretty oval face. She was dressed all in black and carried a sub-machine gun. The Priest carried nothing except his Bible.

‘You here for the party?’ asked Mongrel, his face grey with exhaustion.

‘Bless you, my son. I am here for Carter ...’

Mongrel stared darkly into The Priest’s eyes. And he remembered The Priest’s words back on Crete.
‘Don’t make me come looking for you, Carter. Don’t make me hunt you down - it would be a waste of a good man. One of the best we have.
‘

With a sudden snarl Mongrel went for his M24 machine carbine, barrel lifting and finger squeezing the trigger. Simmo grabbed the gun, wrenching it skywards as a spray of bullets lifted on trajectories of fire.

‘Whoa, lad,’ snapped Simmo, easing the weapon away from Mongrel’s paws.

Mongrel scowled at The Priest, who held his hands in the air, apart, a soft smile on his lips.

‘You misunderstand my intentions,’ said The Priest gently. Behind him, Roxi was pointing her Heckler & Koch MP5 at Mongrel. He glared at her, noting the determination and strength in her piercing green eyes.

‘You’ve come to kill Carter,’ snarled Mongrel, spraying spittle. ‘Yeah, lads, he’s come to kill Carter!’

There was a rumbling of defiance and unrest.

The Priest swallowed. He was facing a potential lynch squad. A mutiny. ‘No, no, lads, I am here to find out what the hell is going on! The Lord has guided me, and yes, I do need to find Carter. He has disobeyed orders. He has disobeyed
Spiral
.’

‘You try and kill Carter, and we fuck you bad,’ said Mongrel angrily.

‘Where is he?’

‘In there.’ Mongrel pointed at the shaking castle. Walls were toppling even as they watched. The rest of the TankSquad operatives were shooting any stray Nex who made a run for it from the gates. ‘He beyond your wrath now, Priest. He beyond your fiery revenge ... you fucking bureaucrats, everything in black and white - there no middle ground, no
compromise.
Carter - he in there, he trying to save Natasha, yeah, but he trying to take down Durell, he trying to smash the QuakeHub. He trying to save the world, Priest... with or without Spiral’s permission; with or without divine fucking intervention. You, Priest - you need God. But Carter is alone, and he ask favour of no man. You understand?’

The Priest scowled. ‘I am not here to murder the man,’ he rumbled.

Mongrel grinned a shark-grin. ‘Not unless he not follow orders, yeah? Carter has own guidance, own morals. He will do what right. If you not see that, then you just as blind as every other fucking bureaucrat in the universe.’