The Crane War

by Graeme Rodaughan

  She risked a backward glance.

  Slayne stood next to the shipping container above the stairs into the tunnels, one hand holding the door open, the other beckoning to the Ramp Masters.

  Jay stood next to Slayne, his SAW in his left hand, smoke rising from its barrel. He shouted and beckoned with his free hand, “Come on!”

  The massed vampires, more than sixty strong, surged through the opening beneath the severed warehouse doors. Shrieking, screaming with hate and blood lust, their eyes wild, hands outstretched to grip, drag and tear.

  Justin commanded, “Go, Go, Go.”

  Li turned and blurred through the open doorway. She sincerely wished the elder Slayne had one of his famous tricks up his sleeve. Otherwise, they were simply going from the frying pan into the fire.

  For surely, the tunnels were filled with all the vampires that had run across the airport to hanger number one.

  And that force was far larger than what they faced here.

  * * *

  The lone vampire lay in two halves on the cold floor of the tunnel.

  The faintest murmur of distant screams and manic laughter echoed through the maze. Anton flicked his blade, painting the nearest wall with a thin ribbon of residual blood. He’d tarried too long attempting to breach the locks on his grandfather’s cache of missiles. The vampires had come into the tunnels. God only knew what was happening above ground. He turned and blurred back toward the warehouse.

  Before he reached the next intersection Anton spontaneously dropped out of Ramp and slowed to a walk. He pulled to a halt, momentarily perplexed. The temperature dropped precipitously, his breath misting before his face. The tunnel writhed, the matte metal panels lining the walls, and smooth concrete walls and ceilings vanished. Ancient stone blocks lined the tunnel. Flaming torches in sconces flickered and danced, sending shadows skittering over the rough walls and floor.

  Anton stepped forward, something crunched under his boot. He looked down, dread flooding his soul. The floor was covered with human skulls. Fresh bones recently taken and denuded of flesh. A terrible presence approached from behind. He whirled around.

  Chloe Armitage stood twenty feet away, dressed in a diaphanous silk gown as dark as night. Her raven hair hung long; woven through a delicate golden crown adorning her head before spilling across her pale shoulders. She stared at him with avid interest. Her right hand unfurled and she pointed at him with a slender finger, and declared in a voice resplendent and chilling, “I will have you too.”

  A rushing thunder emerged from the deep shadows behind her. The air shifted, rising into a stiff breeze, Armitage’s gown flourished around her like a sail, outlining her slim curves in silhouette.

  Anton’s eyes widened, a frigid shudder rising up his back. He lifted the Blue Dragon, a golden flame erupting along its gleaming length. He snapped the flaming sword into attack position above his left shoulder.

  Armitage took a step forward over the carpet of skulls, her steps light enough to leave them intact. Her face paled, her hair receded, her vivid blue eyes darkened until they were wholly black orbs reflecting a mirror image of Anton holding a flaming sword.

  Ivory skinned, dark-eyed vampires emerged from the darkness behind her, sweeping past her in a frenzy of claw and fang.

  She leaned forward, her hands snapping wide to block their passage. Her black tongue lolled out past her bright red lips and she roared, “He is mine.”

  The ancient dungeon walls swapped to negative light for a brief moment. The torches were dark holes in the wall and the waiting vampires, luminous ghosts. Armitage stood before all, a dark queen of unfathomable power, mistress of all she surveyed.

  The concrete tunnel and matte metal panels returned with a whip-like crack. Anton’s heart thudded in his chest and he took an involuntary step backward, and said, “What the fucking hell was that?”

  He stared along the tunnel the vampire had come along. What had been faint echoes only moments before were growing louder, resolving into mad shrieks and howls of euphoric joy. There were more vampires. Of course, there were more vampires. Crane had killed the sensor array and discovered the tunnels. However, the vampire king had also sent someone with the vampires. Someone Anton had a score to settle with.

  Chloe Armitage was in the maze.

  He was certain of it.

  Her presence changed everything.

  * * *

  Arthur wild ramped, activating his speed talent.

  He dragged on the shipping container door with all his might. The solid-metal door slammed shut with an ear-splitting clang. A pair of vampire hands, both right, fell to the floor and twitched spasmodically. He turned and chased the last of the Ramp masters down the stairs, hitting a prominent red button on the wall halfway down the short stairwell. A second door emerged from a slit in the wall and slid shut behind him, blocking access from the stairs.

  The first landing was twenty feet long, and like the rest of the maze, well lit. On the left-hand wall was a weapons rack, on the opposite wall was an alphanumeric key pad.

  Arthur rushed to the key pad and punched in a sixteen-digit string of numbers and letters. He paused, extended his thumb, then his index finger, followed by the other three fingers as he marked off five seconds. The Mirovar and Blake force teams stared at him with a mixture of expectation and perplexity.

  He punched the enter button.

  A sharp light outlined the frame of the doorway. Explosive thunder resounded above them. The ceiling vibrated, a thin layer of gray concrete dust descending onto their heads and shoulders.

  “The third wave is done,” Arthur stated, matter-of-factly. “We have to deal with the vampires in the tunnels next.” He turned to the rack on the opposite wall, and took down the first of a dozen squad automatic weapons and handed it to Jay. “Take this one. It’s fresh and ready to go.” He turned to Justin, “I know, we lost Max, but we can cut through the vampires in the tunnels. They’ve gone mad. Bunched up in a confined space, with these weapons, we can get through this.”

  Justin advised, “We still have to deal with the shadowstar drones.”

  “Use the map in the nightglasses to go to the caches. There is a spiral staircase behind each cache. It leads up to a hidden hatch you can only open from beneath. Pop up onto the airport surface and take out the drones before they realize you are there. Having destroyed their air cover, you can easily make it to hanger number one.”

  “How do we get into the cache and arm the missiles?” Jay asked.

  Arthur tilted his head for a moment, glancing from Jay to Justin and back. He handed Justin a small notepad. “The arming code for the SAMs is on the first page, and the method to reveal and unlock the cache is on the second.” He put his right hand on Jay’s shoulder and advised, “You’re the youngest. I need to make sure that someone who is most likely to survive has the information - or else no one is getting out.”

  Jay looked at him askance for a moment, and then laughed ironically.

  Arthur slapped the two force leaders on the shoulders, and declared, “You have the map, a mission, and no more time. Now go.”

  “What about you?” Justin asked.

  “I must find my grandson,” Arthur answered.

  “What of the P-Case?” Jay asked. “We can’t leave it guarded by just one man.”

  Arthur hesitated, his jaw working, trying to speak, he finally got out in a hoarse whisper. “It’s already safe.”

  Jay blanched and pointed at the P-Case strapped to Arthur’s back. “Oh my God! What the hell is that?”

  Arthur looked at him helplessly, and then stated, “You have your mission. Get it done and get the hell out of here. I’m going to find Anton. If we survive, we’ll meet you in hanger number one.” He left unspoken what would happen if he never found Anton, or they didn’t make it to the hanger to rejoin the Mirovar force team.

  Justin nodded. “Done.”

  Jay shook his head, his eyes wide. He addressed his team, “Grab a gun and a spare
magazine, and let’s go.” He grabbed Arthur by the shoulder and said, “I’ll see you in the hanger. Once this mission is done - we’re done - understood?”

  Arthur’s eyes tightened and he replied, “Perfectly.”

  Jay turned and joined his team. Moments later, the landing was clear and Arthur stood alone.

  “Okay, Anton. Where the hell are you?” he asked softly.

  Arthur strode to the nearest intersection. Two pathways led away into the Maze. A third would take him to the final warehouse. He hesitated briefly, a war of wills within his mind. He sighed and turned to the left and strode off to the third warehouse. It was important he didn’t ramp. He knew deep within the world of his other selves, he had to give time to allow his presence to be noticed and followed.

  He blinked once; his face heavy with disappointment. The compulsion to make his way to the final warehouse was like an iron prison around his mind. He’d have to leave Anton to whatever fate awaited him in the tunnels. Something he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do, and yet when it came down to a choice, he followed his whole-self’s dictates like a slave.

  Arthur had to live out his plan, even though he had no memory of conceiving it.

  … and yet I told them about the second P-Case.

  * * *

  The air shuddered, a dull thud echoing through the maze. A mass of explosives had just detonated on the surface.

  Chloe counted eleven new heartbeats in the maze. Clearly the surviving members of the Mirovar and Blake force teams had entered the tunnel and wiped out the third wave by demolishing the second warehouse. Most of the vampire swarm within the maze diverted from the lone heartbeat of Anton, and surged in the direction of the Order teams, attracted by the greater mass of fresh blood. Only a handful of stragglers continued to hunt Anton Slayne.

  The Mirovar and Blake force teams paused for a moment, talking in low voices. Their exact words lost amongst the competing shrieks and howls of the vampire swarm converging on their position. Only the timbre of their hearts remained truly audible. A distinct signature of humanity that drew the hunting vampire time and time again.

  Chloe stilled herself, relaxed, and sharpened her focus. She drew upon her perfect memory of the vault beneath Saint Peter’s Basilica. Could she separate Arthur Slayne’s heartbeat from the rest? Every heart was unique. The rhythms were different, the size of the chambers varied, as did the resonance of the chest cavity. Together these variations provided an individual signature. Peter Lamb, and Justin Blake were immediately identifiable by the depth and breadth of the resonance in their massive chests. Strength talents, the both of them. Rare and powerful, she set them aside. The females were also distinctive; Chiara Morte - yes, surely Morte, Li Wu, who still lived despite her best efforts to kill her, and Red Cevarre, the Blake team’s combat surgeon. She set them aside also. Jay Creeley, she identified from his foray into the dungeon beneath her former manor house. She set him aside too, noting in passing that Francis Mirovar was missing. The Mirovar force team had lost its leader. Then there were those who were new. They must include the famous Two Taylors, who she’d never had the pleasure of meeting. Their hearts beat with the matching rhythm of a deeply connected pair of blademasters. Finally, there were two hearts that could belong to Max Guerra, Tim Leung, or the loremaster Patrick Wichowski. One of the last three Blake team members was missing, presumed slaughtered in the ruined warehouse above the maze entrance.

  That left Arthur Slayne, the last of the twelve, the lone signature matching her memory of the fight beneath Saint Peter’s Basilica. He stayed behind, the rest of the Ramp masters moving rapidly and with confidence through the maze.

  Chloe pressed her lips into a thin line. They had the luxury of knowing where they were going. They obviously had what Chloe still lacked - a map. She listened carefully. Arthur paused for a moment, changed direction and headed off toward the third and final warehouse.

  She arched a quizzical eyebrow.

  That’s odd, she thought. What’s he doing going off on his own?

  Chloe opened her tactical link to Crane and stated, “The Mirovar and Blake force teams are in the tunnels, and heading toward the other side of the airport. Arthur Slayne has separated from them and is heading toward the third warehouse.”

  “Indeed,” Crane responded. “Avoid combat with the Ramp masters. Follow Slayne to the third warehouse. I will meet you there and we will end this farce together.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Chloe said, a quiet smile on her lips. She could afford to be civil, since Crane had just given her leeway to ignore Anton Slayne. She’d prefer to keep him alive. He could still prove useful for her final end game against Crane.

  Speaking of Anton Slayne, where was he? She’d momentarily lost contact with his heartbeat while she searched for his grandfather’s.

  Chloe closed her eyes, extending her senses to their maximums. Anton’s heartbeat showed up a second later. She opened her eyes, genuinely surprised. What the hell was he doing? He was heading slowly toward her.

  How was he doing that?

  Well, he was only a boy. A gifted boy with potential, but still a boy. She would avoid him and close on the final warehouse.

  Chloe blurred away.

  * * *

  The four shadowstar drones descended where the runways crossed at the center of the airport. They extended pale landing struts down to the tarmac. Slits of blue fire flickering and dying beneath their dark carapace hulls. They crouched like giant menacing insects as they came to rest on the ground.

  Canopies lifted and folded forward, revealing cabins and life pods. Three of the drones disgorged twelve praetorians uniformly armed with 7.62mm miniguns. They blurred away, creating a perimeter a hundred yards across surrounding the four drones.

  Cornelius leaped from the command drone. He adjusted the fit of his bastard sword at his waist and regarded the airport with a steely glare. The first and second warehouses were barely recognizable ruins. Reduced to smoking piles of torn reinforced steel and rubble, filled with spot fires and the silence of the dead. The third wave had been eliminated, vanishing within the glare and heat of thousands of pounds of high explosives.

  He frowned, had they made enough of an impact on the Ramp masters? Had they worn them down? He suspected not. The Mirovar and Blake force teams had descended into the tunnels. They would face the last wave of militia vampires in what was no doubt a confined and confusing space. He had no idea who would emerge victorious from the meat grinder within the tunnels, and right now, he didn’t care. He tapped a panel beneath the right chin of his black tactical helmet. The canopies closed on the drones and they rose as one on pillars of blue fire. While Cornelius wore his command helmet, the automated drones were at his beck and call.

  He pointed at the last hanger on the southern side of the airport, and called to his squad leaders, “That is the Order’s exfil site. They have a jet. Kill all who come there and let none escape.”

  Hoffman, Cantor, and Browning all responded with “Yes, Sir.” The three squads of black-armored vampires blurred across the tarmac to the designated hanger.

  Cornelius blurred in the opposite direction toward the last warehouse. He’d noticed a variance in its construction moments before landing. The last warehouse sported a long retractable section in the middle of its roof. With the explosive destruction of the second warehouse, the retractable roof had begun to open. It was no accident that Slayne was now heading toward the third warehouse. The only warehouse that could harbor a vertical takeoff and landing aircraft - like an advanced drone. This was his real exfil path.

  Within the tunnels, Chloe was advancing toward the warehouse. She would arrive shortly after Slayne. They would deal with him together and take back what belonged to him. Soon, the P-Case would be recovered. They would take it to the East Coast Hub, and install it on the quantum processors there. They would use it to assist with the capture of the Mekrarian vampire heading west across Eurasia. Once the Panopticon 2.0 was online, he would cross-refe
rence their outputs to identify the mark of Arthur Slayne and eliminate his legacy from the world.

  Cornelius arrived at the warehouse. A single regular door opposed his entry. He tore it from its hinges and threw it into the night behind him. He entered the warehouse. It was mostly empty, except for a handful of shipping containers near the walls, and a single seat hypersonic drone sitting directly beneath the steadily retracting door in the ceiling.

  He snarled and strode forward, his vampire senses on high alert. He didn’t fear the use of hidden explosives. His last vision had been explicit. This would end with hand to hand combat. Slayne would arrive and then Armitage, there would be a contest of blades, and there were none better than his enforcer.

  Cornelius whirled in front of the dark-gray drone and regarded the silence around him. He loosened the bastard sword at his waist. The ancient steel had been forged by an eleventh century genius in Damascus. Meteoric iron had fallen more than once upon the Earth, and he carried the equal of any of the Dragon blades. It was time to draw the venom from this prophecy by engaging with it. Sometimes, to maintain great power you had to put everything at risk, and this was such a time. Either he would be victorious or Slayne would destroy him.

  He could be patient. He could wait. Slayne would bring him the P-Case soon enough, and then the final contest would begin.

  Cornelius had foreseen it.

  * * *

  Howls, screeches, and wails echoed throughout the maze.

  Li dashed down a stairway, following the green line of Arthur Slayne’s map to his hidden caches of surface to air missiles. She leaped off the stairs, onto a broad, deep landing. The open space was twenty-five yards on a side, with a twenty-foot high ceiling lit with a dozen thin strip lights. The map of the maze hung in faint outlines in her Order nightglasses’ heads-up display. A sharp green line jagged through the left exit and down a stairway. The SAMs were another eight hundred yards of twists, turns, and level changes distant.