State of Decay (37 page)

I got a bead on the location and brought up the map. Somehow she was taking us in the right direction. There was a guard station in the distance, and a ramp leading down.

You should be picking up a radio beacon about now
, Sean said. I tuned to the frequency he indicated, and sure enough, it was there.

Up ahead, several large, dark objects were called out on the display.

“Calliope, stop the bike. This is close enough!” I shouted. Things were going to start getting dangerous, and she had already gotten closer than I wanted her to. The dark objects were getting larger as we got closer, taking shape through the snow. They were definitely vehicles of some kind.

I zoomed in on them, bringing them into focus; they were helicopters. Three of them, military choppers used for troop deployment.

He went idle for a minute, then dropped off completely. A second later, a new ID came in. It was Assistant Director Noakes.

I could see three revivor soldiers standing in front of the remains of an old guard tower. They had spotted us, and one of them was waving us down.

“Son of a bitch!” Cal snapped. I looked up and saw the soldiers ahead raising their rifles.

“Cal, stop!”

Behind the revivors, I could see the remains of a thick metal curtain that had blocked an entrance ramp that led down underground. It looked like explosives had been used to blow the gate, and dozens of boot tracks headed past the guard station and down into the factory entrance.

A shot rang out and snow sprayed off to my right. Calliope veered, plowing through the snow and coming out in a second set of tire tracks. Two more shots boomed through the air.

We were getting close now, way too close. We passed the helicopters and started coming up fast on the soldiers. They weren’t going to let us get much farther, and Calliope, for whatever reason, was not slowing down.

One of them fired again, and this time it hit the bike an inch from my thigh, throwing sparks. It stared down the barrel, trying to get a shot.

There was no more time. They weren’t people; they were just revivors. I held on to Calliope with my left arm and drew my gun. I fired two three-shot bursts and the revivor spun, then fell onto the snow. A second one tried to grab me as we passed, and I fired a shot that sprayed black fluid out of the back of its skull.

“Cal! What are you doing? Slow down.”

I could see muzzle flashes coming from somewhere down the ramp. She braked, and tipped the bike so that it began sliding sideways toward the entrance, colliding with the last soldier and dragging it. We bucked over the edge of the ramp and through the entrance, into the dark and out of the snow. The bike slid, pinning the soldier and throwing sparks as the exhaust pipes met the concrete.

I lost my grip and fell off the bike, rolling across the ramp as the bike crunched into a parked car a few meters away. When I righted myself, I looked down to see a series of vehicles had been arranged to form a makeshift barricade in front of the entranceway into the factory. A group of revivors were pinned down behind the cars, firing at the soldiers who had taken cover behind the concrete pylons and were shooting back.

I looked over to the bike and saw smoke trailing from it. It looked like the pinned soldier took the brunt of the slide. Calliope was moving again. She pulled herself out from underneath the wreck.

“Cal, stay down!” I yelled, but she didn’t stop.

Bullets were spraying the barricade and return fire was punching divots into the pylons, scattering tiles and concrete dust. Stray shots buzzed through the air, glancing off the ramp behind us.

A roar filled the underground garage and the whole area lit up as I scrambled across the ramp toward her. Down where the fighting was taking place, one of the soldiers had stepped out from behind the pylon and turned a flamethrower on the barricade. Superhot plasma sprayed out in a directed cone and washed over the vehicles, peeling away the paint and causing the windows to blow apart. The upholstery ignited as the flames spilled over onto the revivors who were taking cover there.

As the underground was lit by the fire, I saw that all soldiers were armed with flamethrowers. They were dressed in protective gear that included a black rubber hood with shielded goggles and long aprons to protect them from the flames. While another jet of plasma washed over the barricade, I reached Calliope and pulled her closer to the side of the car. Who the hell were these guys?

“Get off me!” she grunted, pushing me away. There was a strange look in her eyes, almost like she was delirious.

“Calliope, listen to me,” I said, trying to get her to meet my eye. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong with you?”

Below, someone screamed, and when I turned I saw a figure engulfed in flames run out from behind the burning vehicles. Its flickering eyes stared out of a blackened face as it pulled off its long, burning coat and tossed it to one side. Several bullets punched through its torso as it ran for the pylons, and I could just make out the electronics and wires strapped around its chest before it met the group of soldiers.

“Get down!” I shouted, pushing Calliope onto her back and covering her head as the bomb went off. The sound was deafening as everything was lost in a bright white flash. Through the spots I caught a glimpse of debris, blood, and body parts shooting through the air as at least two soldiers were caught directly in the blast. Shrapnel rained across the side of our cover, and I saw an arm attached to what looked like part of a rib cage glance off the divider and tumble into the shadows.

“Cease fire!” an amplified voice shouted as the boom faded. “Stop! Cease fire!”

Chancing a look, I saw that the order was being given because there was nothing left to shoot at. The barricade was still in flames, but there was no further movement behind it. The soldier who had given the cease- fire looked over his men, taking stock. It looked like half of them were down, maybe more.

“File in,” he said, gesturing to the factory entrance. “We continue down.”

Stepping over the bodies, they quickly reorganized, ducked through the flames, and headed through the door.

“Let me up,” Calliope said, pushing me. I gave her some room and offered her my hand, but she batted it away.

“You have to get out of here,” I told her. She stood up, still a little shaky, and stumbled out from behind the car. The carnage was sinking in. Her eyes were wide.

She looked over the damage in front of her like she was taking the whole situation in for the first time. She took two steps, then got down on one knee.

By the time I realized what she was up to, it was too late. She picked up the gun she had found and was back on her feet.

“Hey!”

She looked at me for just a second, and her eyes looked scared, but at the same time there was commitment there. Whatever she intended to do, and for whatever reason, she meant to do it.

Without checking to see if the gun was even loaded, she sprinted down the ramp toward the factory entrance. I took off after her as she ducked past the flames and out the other side through the doorway.

The vehicles that had formed the barrier had been forced back by the blast, one of them tipped on its nose and leaning against the wall, and the other on its back. In the burning carnage, I could make out a boot and what looked like an arm with a long blade sticking out, but nothing else was recognizable. Between the blast and the flamethrowers, the heat was incredible. Holding my jacket up to shield my face, I ran past and made it through the entranceway.

Inside, the corridor went left and right. The soldiers were down the right passage, filing onto an electric lift that led down to the lower levels. A metal door a few paces to the left was just latching shut when I entered.

That had to be her. As the lift carrying the soldiers started down, I pushed open the metal door into a stairwell.

As the door shut behind me, I caught a glimpse of Cal one flight down, boots clomping as she barreled down the steps.

My chest burning, I followed her down.

Draped in the blanket, I followed my killer down into the underground facility, while behind us the sounds of destruction raged. He didn’t look back as he led me deeper, into near-total darkness. An icon flashed at the corner of my eye.

We were walking through an office corridor. The walls and doors were covered in graffiti, and the whole area was littered with trash. Material for bedding was strewn about. People had taken shelter there at one time, but they had all been cleared out.

What is this place?
I asked as I followed him. He led me through a large, rusted metal door, into the darkness beyond. The doors slammed shut behind us with a loud thud, and we moved down the dark hall. Farther on, we descended an old stairwell.

You said his name before. Who is Samuel?
I asked.

My memories sparked, and a point of light rose. It opened to reveal the face of a burned woman, a revivor. It moved its mouth, whispering that name to me.

Who is Zhang?
I asked him.
What does the name mean?

We didn’t realize the trafficker’s pleasure models were outfitted with surplus communications nodes
, he said.
They joined our network. It’s why they had to be destroyed before they could be questioned. You set a lot of things into motion when you passed that name on to the FBI.

From somewhere up above came muted gunfire. A few shots turned quickly to sustained fire, echoing down the hallway.

What is that?
I asked.

So you’ve failed?
I asked, but his face didn’t change.

They’ll never find Fawkes
, he said.

A boom shook the floor and rumbled through the air. Grit sifted down on my head from the ceiling.

Come on,
he said.
Your partner was one of them. You were his puppet. You’ve been a puppet your whole life. I freed you.

He took me down into the lower levels, where huge cables ran down narrow corridors. They hung from the walls and tracks on the ceiling. The spaces were tight and cramped. There were few lights, just pinpricks in the distance, but he seemed to know the way, and I followed.

I remembered standing in the Valle home, looking down on the bodies of the family. Investigator Reece was talking to me.

Then I saw that small trace of interference; right around that time frame, something had been changed. Shanks leaned in, giving me an intense look. Then his eyes changed, the pupils growing wider.

A witness
, he said.
That’s promising.

Go and talk to him, and I will look around the apartment
, he whispered, leaning closer.
Do not disturb me for the next several minutes. Justify it any way you need to.

Someone is targeting us
, Shanks said to himself. He looked worried.
I’m sorry, but I’m on that disc. No one else can know about this. Not even you. I’m sorry.