The Redemption Trilogy

by A. J. Sikes

  “Doesn’t seem to bother ’em really. Not if there’s food in their sight picture. C’mon.”

  They followed the edge of the roof toward the corner, pausing every few steps to listen and scan the city for any signs of the monsters. Mahton pulled Jed over to an air conditioning unit where they squatted down. A string of empty plastic water bottles dangled from a line of 550 cord. The cord was looped around the neck of each bottle in a quick-release knot. Jed was going to ask what they were for when he noticed the yellow liquid filling the last bottle.

  “You guys save your piss?”

  “Yeah, and it makes me sick to do it.”

  “Why?”

  “Hygiene, motherfucker. It’s fucking gross. You see any running water around you? Only water we got left is in a five-gallon jug down in the barracks, and it ain’t full. So taking a bath? Washing your hands? We got baby wipes, but they’re about to run out, too. We gotta hold the piss bottle with one hand to make sure it doesn’t spill.”

  Jed had to hold in his laughter. Mahton was killing him with this shit.

  Dude’s worried about getting a little piss on his hands when his face is covered in dirt and blood?

  “You looked in a mirror lately, Mahton?”

  “Fuck you, Welch. I’m dirty like you’re dirty, because I don’t have a choice. I’d wash my hands every time if I could.”

  “So why don’t you?”

  “I said we’re running out of wipes. We wash our hands once a day, after our last piss.”

  Mahton shrugged and shook his head like he wanted to forget the whole thing.

  “What are you saving it for?” Jed asked.

  “The suckers don’t like it,” he said. “It’s a territory thing. When we get a bottle filled up, we take it down to the ground floor and pour it around the stairwell. That’s why it stank down there.”

  Jed kicked himself for thinking Mahton was a candy-ass. He was doing what he could to survive. Just like Jed had always done.

  Mahton nudged him to follow as he moved to the end of the cooling unit. They had a clear view of most of the city from there. And most of what Jed saw he wished he could forget. Destruction and ruin spread out like a stain in every direction. Seeing New York from this height, and in this state—it was like Iraq, all crumbling apartment blocks, and mounds of dust and debris everywhere he looked.

  But it was so much worse. This had been home. These streets had been where Jed grew up, where he’d played, and where he’d had all the chances in the world to make something of himself.

  And where he’d made all his biggest mistakes.

  Now there was nothing left to remind him of the life he’d almost lost running with the gangbangers in high school. Or the life he couldn’t save in the sewers down below the street.

  Meg, I’m sorry. If I’m getting a second chance here with Mahton and them, I’ll make it right. I won’t waste the life you gave me.

  Jed sucked in a breath, swallowed his tears, and focused on the city again.

  A path of bombs had leveled nearly every building around them except for two high-rise apartments on the opposite side of the depot. The bombers had dropped their payloads in diagonals through the neighborhood, bringing down smaller apartment blocks, office towers, and every mom and pop pizza joint for as far as the eye could see. But they’d left the bus depot and nearby high-rises untouched. Jed was stunned at how the depot seemed to stand above everything now, and it was just a four-story building.

  Mahton slid away from the air conditioning unit and waved Jed to follow. They moved together, duck-walking over to the low railing that ringed the rooftop, aiming for the corner that looked out over Lexington Avenue. Bits of the railing had fallen away in places. Jed froze when he saw claw marks and blood stains around one missing section.

  “That’s where they came up, huh?” he asked.

  “Yeah, the suckers spotted the civilians hiding in the top-floor offices. They had weapons and were pulling guard shifts when we got here. They were pretty good, I guess. Almost good enough.”

  Mahton waved Jed forward again as they made slow progress to the corner of the roof.

  “Somebody fell asleep on guard?” Jed asked when they got in position.

  “More or less. It was a guy who worked in this building. Dude was a fucking idiot. He knew all the hiding spots. Him and this girl he was banging forgot to keep one eye on the windows while they got busy.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “We found them, still joined at the hip but missing their throats. The suckers took them out first, then ran through the halls eating up everything that didn’t shoot back. And that was most of them.”

  “You, Sergeant G, and Reeve…” Jed let the rest of his question go unasked. Mahton ran a hand under his nose and told Jed to keep an eye on the street below.

  “I gotta hit the head. Stay here, and stay low.”

  Jed nodded and went back to watching the quiet ruins. Nothing moved except the wind, blowing dust and debris across the shattered landscape. The city seemed to breathe around him again, a shaking and stuttering sort of inhale and exhale. New York looked ready to die any day, but it just wouldn’t give up the ghost.

  “Maybe you’re waiting for someone to save you, huh?” Jed said to what was left of the skyline. He eyeballed every intersection and every still-standing building, but it was like watching sand dunes walk. If anything was alive out there in the city, he couldn’t see it.

  ***

  Gallegos laid down on her mat and stretched every muscle in turn, starting with her neck. Two days of living like animals and she still couldn’t go to sleep without her little rituals. She flexed her forearms, then rotated her wrists. She spread her palms and stretched her fingers.

  Then Alexandra Gallegos let out a deep breath as the weight of the day slid off her.

  Half a beat passed and she rolled onto her side, scooped up her vest and shrugged into it. She sat up, strapped on her brain bucket, grabbed her M4 and clipped it onto its sling.

  Reeve needs a break more than I do. My mission, my men, myself. Always in that order. Always until the end.

  — 7 —

  Jed felt Mahton come up beside him again. “Pretty fucked up, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Yeah, it is. Did the flyboys know you were here?”

  “I don’t know. Everywhere you look it’s the same thing. Piles of shit on top of piles of shit. I think we got lucky.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t luck. Maybe it was God looking out for you.”

  Jed continued scanning the city streets, what was left of them. Only Lexington Avenue was clear of damage in this area. All the cross streets were pockmarked, and in some places so badly blown apart that nothing would travel on them again. Even Park Avenue was full of rubble and shattered glass.

  “I bet that’s what it was,” Jed said. “God spared this building.”

  “Maybe,” Mahton said. “Whenever I look out there, I kinda think God gave up on us. Or maybe the bombers were told where to drop their payloads and this wasn’t it. I don’t really care. But it’s that building you should be worried about.”

  Mahton pointed across the track of destruction left by the bombs to where a low and also undamaged building hugged an intersection on the opposite corner of the next block.

  “That used to be a fire department and police precinct,” Mahton said. “Now it’s the collab’s stronghold.”

  The building was a lot like ones Jed had seen in Iraq, stout and thick, surrounded by destruction, and painted the color of sand. A parking lot behind it was mounded on all sides with debris and the ruins of cars and vans. Tangled pieces of chain link fence hung over the edge of the parking lot, like the claws of some demon rising out of the earth. And right in the middle of all that, in a cleared space, sat a black dual-wheeled pickup truck. Even from this distance, Jed knew it had to be the truck he’d seen earlier.

  As he and Mahton watched the building, two figures exited a door, hopped down a short flight of
steps, and walked over to the pickup. They stood near it talking for a bit. Jed wished he could hear them.

  “Is that Tucker?” he asked.

  “Shit, I don’t know,” Mahton said. “We don’t have any binos, unless you’ve been hiding a pair up your ass.”

  The figures by the truck finished whatever they were talking about and got into the vehicle. Another figure stepped out from behind a debris pile and moved to open a gate that was up against the building. It slid aside with a squeal, showing a clear path out of the parking lot, under a breezeway.

  “So that’s their hideout,” Jed said.

  “Yep,” Mahton said. “We get lucky, someday we might be able to take them out and move into the place. That building’s a lot more secure than this one.”

  Jed focused on the truck. He didn’t know who was driving it, and he didn’t care. If it came close enough, he’d do what he should have done earlier.

  Take ’em out. The driver first and then whoever survives the crash.

  The truck wheeled away down Lexington, heading toward Spanish Harlem. A few blocks up, the driver navigated a tight turn to avoid a crater that filled half the intersection. The rumble of the motor faded as the truck disappeared from view around the corner.

  “They’ll be back quick,” Mahton said.

  “How do you know?”

  “All those craters in the road. There’s only a few streets they can still use, so they don’t have that much range. Besides, you try driving around a city run by monsters and see how fast you make for home.”

  “I thought you said they worked together.”

  “They work with one bunch, but there’s more out there. More of the big ones giving orders and shit. We’ve seen at least two more, not counting Tucker’s boss. It’s like they got little gangs. This one made a deal with Tucker and his guys. Doesn’t mean he can just hang out on the block. The other ones will tear his ass up.”

  Mahton went quiet and Jed figured he should let it drop. He’d learned enough about Tucker’s operation in the short moments he’d spent on the roof. The mission was clear in his mind: Stop Tucker and save as many people as he could before they got turned into dummies for gladiator matches with the monsters.

  Jed was about to ask Mahton if he’d ever seen other monsters attacking the truck when it appeared again, coming fast down Lexington, and this time from the same direction as it had when Jed was on the street. The truck pulled to a stop and idled half a block down from the depot building.

  “How’d they get around behind us? Do you think they know we’re up here?”

  “Ran a circle around the neighborhood. That’s what they usually do. Head out one direction and come back from the other. But they don’t usually stop like that. Keep an eye on them. Gotta tell Sergeant G about this.” Mahton duck-walked across the roof until he was at the air conditioning unit, then he ran in a crouch to the access door. Jed kept as still as he could, monitoring the truck and hoping against hope that he’d get a chance to end Tucker’s operation right then and there.

  — 8 —

  Gallegos stepped into the ruins of another old conference room, on the Lexington side of the bus depot. She’d tried to convince Reeve to rack out for a while, but he was too wired from his dip. So, she’d left him covering Park Avenue and came over to support Mahton and Welch watching Lexington.

  Guess I’m too wired myself. Or maybe this is it. Maybe the collabs are about to make their move and my gut’s telling me to stay on point.

  She’d been worried that Tucker’s people knew they were in the bus depot and were just waiting for the right moment to make an assault. She and her team could hold off a squad of men maybe, but more than that…

  A rumbling engine echoed through the streets and Gallegos moved deeper into the room. She couldn’t go too far forward because the windows at the end of the room were all blown out. She’d be spotted by anyone in the collab stronghold if they had binos.

  With New York in a state of permanent sleep, even the slightest movement would be noticed. Her aunts used to talk about what could happen in a New York Minute, like it was a sight to behold, this huge city bustling and swarming with activity. They’d come over and drink with her mom and dad, laughing loud into the late night and telling stories about what they’d seen around the neighborhood.

  Gallegos was still just Little Alexa back then. She envied her aunts for their life of freedom, the way they could come and go, walking up and down the streets with friends, going into clubs or bars.

  They’d loved this city and never had a bad thing to say about it.

  If you could just see it now.

  The rumbling sounded again, and Gallegos crouched into the shadows of the far wall. The truck had to be idling nearby. She dropped to the prone and crawled herself forward through the debris, brushing aside pebbles of window glass as she moved.

  She halted her movement just a foot from the window. A second truck engine growled through the dead streets. When it came to an idle outside, Gallegos slowly pushed herself forward with her feet and lifted her abdomen off the floor, straining so she wouldn’t drag against the debris or snag her gear as she moved.

  Weak voices came into her position from the street below. If it weren’t for the silence of the dead city she wouldn’t have heard a word being said. As it was, she had to strain to stay focused and ignore the urge to bring her weapon up and start shooting.

  “Get ’em?”

  “Yeah. Four more feedbags. Said they were part of that Reaper bullshit.”

  “Any ammo?”

  “Not much. Couple mags’ worth.”

  Gallegos had heard enough. She and her platoon had been assigned to Operation Reaper. They were supposed to take back the city. They’d come in hot with air support and armor. And they’d lost everything.

  Now the collabs had captured some of the survivors of that failed mission.

  Gallegos shifted her weapon to the side and rotated it to aim the muzzle behind her. If she was about to see what she feared… She edged forward, keeping her head tilted to the side so she only had one eye on the street.

  What she saw made her insides burn as she fought the urge to raise her weapon and open fire.

  ***

  Jed kept low and tight against the railing. He could still see the truck below. It had stopped and was idling there next to the wrecked buses in front of the depot.

  Had they seen him? What were they doing just sitting there in the street?

  The monsters could show up any second and—The driver’s side door opened and a man stepped out. Even from four floors up, Jed could identify his camouflage uniform, and the M4 he carried across his chest on a sling. Another man got out on the passenger side and took up a position behind the truck. He stood guard in a relaxed pose, like Jed used to do when he was keeping an eye out on quiet airfields.

  Back before I fucked it all up and got shit-canned by the corps.

  The guy on the street had the same casual attitude, just leaning up against the truck and putting his hands in his pockets like he was waiting for something and wasn’t worried about any hostile contacts in the meantime. Quick as Jed could blink, the driver was beside the other man and slapping him hard on the shoulder. He stuck a finger in the man’s face and gave him a dressing down.

  “Get right, son. Weapon at the ready. Eyes on your AO.”

  How’s it feel, buddy? Jed thought, remembering the times he’d been dropped into a front-leaning rest while he got lectured on the proper way to stand up.

  Down on the street, the two men separated, with the driver going back around the tailgate to stand on his side of the vehicle. The other man held his weapon up now and paced a small circle beside the passenger door. The rumble of another engine echoed on top of the idling truck motor below. Jed scanned the area and spotted a second dual-wheeled truck coming their way down Lexington. Unlike Tucker’s, the second truck was stained with dirt and blood and God knew what else. Jed could barely make out the white paint u
nderneath the mess. He kept his eyes on the truck, hoping to get a better idea of who was driving it. Then he saw the people in the back. He didn’t want to believe what his eyes were showing him, but it was plain to see.

  They’re prisoners! Shit!

  Four people were piled in the truck bed, all bound and with hoods over their heads. And they all wore uniforms. The second truck came to a stop and the driver got out. The man posted behind the first truck went over with his weapon at the ready. They exchanged some words, but a wind gusted over the rooftop and Jed couldn’t hear what was said. The men shook hands, then stood still, like they were waiting for someone else to show up.

  The next thing he knew, Jed was rubbing his eyes to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing.

  Can’t be. Can’t fucking be real. No way.

  On the street below, while the men by the trucks stood guard, a small group of the monsters crawled from where they had been hiding behind piles of rubble. The whole block had been leveled by bombs. Somewhere in that mess of ruins and destruction, the monsters had an entrance to their underground hive. Jed hadn’t noticed them coming out because he had been focused on the men in the trucks, hoping to identify Tucker.

  Whoever the men were, they clearly weren’t afraid of the monsters. They kept their distance, but they didn’t shoot the things. From his high position, Jed couldn’t see them as clearly as he had before, but he could make out their pasty white skin, and their joints clicked loudly in the quiet ruined street.

  They’re the kind that didn’t die when the Air Force dropped those chemical bombs. They’re the really bad ones. The ones that got Meg.

  The monsters crawled across the roadway to the second truck where they clambered into the bed and grabbed the prisoners. One by one the people were yanked from the truck by clawed hands. Jed didn’t hear any screams, and guessed the prisoners were gagged under their hoods.

  Or just scared to death.