The Forsaken Crypts

by Terry C. Simpson

  “Still nothing on infrared. And only you guys on motion detectors.”

  They continued along the catwalks, traveling a quarter of the way across the stadium. They encountered more living spaces and a couple of dining areas. In the next space was some sort of gym with makeshift weights, ropes, and calisthenic bars.

  “Hey, commander,” a man’s voice chirped. “I found what looks like a main breaker box. Orders?”

  “If everything looks good then flip those switches, G Forty-two Fifty. Infrared off, folks.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Minutes passed. Then several soft lights flickered on. The bulbs hung from wires that stretched up into the rafters.

  “Hmmm,” Keenan said. “G Thirty-two Hundred, do you see lights in the stadium from up there?”

  There was a pause before G Thirty-two Hundred replied, “Only where y’all breached. The rest is dark.”

  “Thanks.” Keenan aimed his pulse gun up into the rafters. A flick of his thumb turned on a light along the barrel. The beam illuminated a thick black material like a sheet. “Gotta give it to these DeGens. They’re smart. They covered the interior of the roof so the light wouldn’t show.”

  Sidrie scowled at the admiration in Keenan’s voice.

  After he turned off the beam, Keenan continued ahead. The next room contained several tables and wooden lockers. A few empty magazines were on a table. The same in the lockers. There were also spare parts for weapons. Barrels. Carry handles. Stocks.

  Keenan inspected the equipment. “On your toes, boys. Found some HK Four Thirty-three parts.”

  “The news is worse over here on the left flank, sir.”

  “What’d you find, Jer?”

  “Parts for a Ma Deuce.”

  “You sure?” Keenan sounded both shocked and concerned. “A Browning fifty cal? An M2?”

  “Yep.”

  Keenan whistled. “Shit. Kinda lucky we didn’t run into one o’ them fuckers.”

  “Agreed,” Jer said.

  “Alright, fellas, you heard what Jer found. Forward. Head on a swivel. Forty Thirty, how we looking?”

  “So far so good.”

  The five of them continued on, discovering various aspects of life for the renegade DeGens who called themselves the Gridrunners. And then they all entered a large room located above the stadium’s center. There were a dozen chairs at tables upon which sat old style LCD monitors. Keyboards with built-in mouse pads sat in front of the displays. Lines of wires ran to banks of hardware. Neither the hardware nor the screens were powered on.

  Keenan stopped. “Are those computers?”

  “Looks like one of those old data centers,” Jer said. He and the other three men had entered doors to Keenan’s left or right.

  “Send in a tech. We’ll make sure everything is secure. Forty-two Fifty, head back to pick him up.” Keenan moved in toward the racks of computer hardware, gun aimed. He checked the spaces around and between, stopping at wires and devices. “No sign of booby traps.”

  “All good on this side, also,” Jer said.

  When Keenan returned to the front, the other three men were there also. Twenty minutes passed before Forty-two Fifty returned, leading another man in full tactical gear from head to toe. The tech introduced himself as G7000.

  “Alright, Seven Thousand.” Keenan strode in front of the hardware. “What do you think? Is there a way to fire this stuff up?”

  “Gimme a sec.” G7000 strode up to the racks. He peered around and then headed between them. He could be heard rummaging.

  The screens and hardware flickered to life. Fans whirred. Power sources hummed.

  “Fuck, yeah,” Keenan said.

  G7000 returned. He took a bow.

  “Good job.” Keenan nodded in the tech’s direction. “Now, let’s see if you can crack into this system and see what they’ve been up to.”

  G7000 headed over to the closest display and keyboard, removed his gloves, and took a seat. Keenan followed him. A boot sequence was still in effect. Seconds later, a penguin in a seated position popped on the screen. The display went dark, but there were a few lines and a blinking cursor.

  “They’re running Linux.” G7000’s fingers flickered across the keyboard. “A very old version, but luckily all our techs are trained in it. It’s what was used to build the Grid after the war.”

  G7000 continued to type. The screen changed to lines of code or commands on the left. On the right was what appeared to be folders, drives, and the like.

  Sidrie muted Keenan’s part of the feed. “Estela, record everything and analyze. Tell G7000 to plug in to that system so you can scan it. Look for anything on Dr. Kim.”

  “Yes, Miss Malikah.”

  As was the norm, Sidrie kept her hopes in check. A part of her knew it was only a matter of time before she gained the information she required on Whole Brain Emulation as well as the remainder of Alphonso’s protocols. But time was the one thing she did not fully control, the one thing she did not possess in abundance.

  Minutes passed with G7000 typing away. Folders opened and closed. G7000 stopped. “Holy shit.” He leaned forward.

  “What?” Keenan bent over him and peered at the screen.

  G7000 pointed. “This here is a list of comms between the SAC and whomever ran this place. The latest is from six months ago.” He clicked on one.

  A video played. A Hispanic man in a dark suit with his hands behind his back was staring at the screen. He was clean-shaven with hard eyes.

  “Commander Carlson, be patient.” The man had a thick South American accent. “My people have assured me the supply shipment will reach you by the end of September. It takes time to avoid the drones and cameras along the border wall. And going under or over the sea walls is near impossible.”

  “We’re trying our best, President Esteban.” Carlson’s voice was deep. Cultured. “But we’re dying here. We need help. The sooner we can hit at least one silo, the better the chance we have of survival.”

  “I understand, Commander.” Esteban raised one hand, palm up, and dipped his head in recognition. “And believe me when I say you have my sympathy. No one should have to endure such suffering. I wish we could speed up the process. But your leaders are stubborn. More so now than ever. Until we can get them to listen to reason, this is how it must be. Some wars must be fought from the inside first. This is one such.”

  Through her optics, Sidrie selected her connection to Governor Morrison. He and his entire cabinet would be watching. She’d made certain to provide the governor with access to these feeds.

  “Well, Richard, here is your proof,” Sidrie declared. “It’s past time we treat this as what it is. War. Unless you people want the country to revert to what it once was, overrun by drugs and crime. I much rather preserve the utopia we have built.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Early afternoon saw the fields around Frost become expanses of rock and shale, only the hardiest vegetation able to take root. The crowd split into groups, heading toward their respective mines or prospecting areas, the largest contingent continuing straight ahead to the Sioziri operation.

  Meritus veered off to the right. They rode for perhaps half a mile, up through a pass, then into a small valley. They rounded several rocky outcrops and hills before they reached Meritus’ mine.

  The mystic drew his zephyr to a halt on the trail and pointed down a slope at an area with sparse grass patches and dirt like rust. “Dante and Frost, if you got the quest for basilisk hides, then those are yours.”

  The lumbering basilisks looked like massive green-gray lizards with rows of armored ridges running down their backs. Horns jutted from the sides of their heads, below their eyes but back toward their necks. Each had a long tail with a wedge-shaped slab at the end.

  “Don’t wor
ry about the korbitanium and the gems,” Meritus said. “The dvergar will get those for us. I’ll send one of ‘em over to help skin the basilisks too.”

  “Thanks, homie, because I doubt I woulda been able to do any skinning. That shit’s nasty.” Frost dismounted and blew his whistle, sending RnB away.

  “I figured.” Meritus chuckled. “I don’t blame you either. Skinning’s one of those things that’s too close to reality to be enjoyable.”

  “Ha! Speak for yourself, wussy city boys.” Dante pointed at them with his axe while his kirin flew off.

  Ryne was smirking in their direction. He shook his head slowly, clearly disappointed.

  “You two can shaddup,” Meritus shot back. “And Ryne, I’ll be dropping you from group so your level don’t stunt their exp.”

  “Fine by me.” Ryne gave a sullen kick of his legs and directed his drake toward a lone tree.

  Meritus turned to Frost. “Saba and I’ll take the caravan to the mine so the helpers can start packing the ore. Then we’ll give you guys a hand.” He urged his zephyr into motion, ambling down the path to a clearing where the mine’s dark mouth cut into a cliff above which rose the Jurojin’s wind-and-rain-scarred body.

  Leaning his black-bladed crescent axe on one shoulder, Dante massaged his butt while striding over to stand beside Frost, facing the basilisks. “Finally, some action after all that riding.”

  “Yeah. I was getting kinda bored.” Frost studied the basilisks. He frowned. “Is it me or do these look… less defined.” He shook his head. “Like less muscular, less detailed than the mobs on Maelpith?”

  “They’re not elite.”

  “Ahhhh,” Frost said with a nod.

  “Tell me something,” Dante said, staring off at the basilisks. “You and Meritus with this shaddup business... What’s that about?

  Frost smiled. “An inside joke from IRL. We were in a store one day, and this big muscle-bound dude was trying to get the attention of the scrawny worker, an Arab guy, who was helping another customer. I guess he thought his size and money meant he would get served right away.

  “The worker is steady ignoring dude. Finally, muscleman steps to him with his voice raised, demanding service. The scrawny guy glances at him with this expressionless look, and in the thickest accent you ever heard, he calmly says, ‘Shaddup.’

  “Muscleman turned red. He looked like he would choke. Now, he’s all up in the little guy’s space, towering over him, pointing and yelling, cussing him out.

  “And little man just repeats it, ‘Shaddup. Shaddup.’ The big guy is beyond pissed now. And he decides he had enough. He swings. Little guy sidesteps, sticks his foot out, and just uses the big man’s momentum to push him on by.

  “The big guy slaps his head into the wall. Bam. Out cold. Slides down like a sack o’ shit.

  “Little dude peers at him. ‘Now you shaddup.’ Everyone in the store bust out laughing. Ever since then, we used the word.”

  Dante chuckled. “Now, I get it. I wish I was there to see that.” He shook his head.

  “Yeah, man, still one of the funniest things ever at the time.”

  “You ready to get these basilisks?” Dante limbered his arms and legs.

  Frost aimed The Stunner and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

  Dante’s color oozed from crimson to bright scarlet with his activation of Frenzy, tripling his power and speed. He bounded forward, becoming a red blur by way of Raging Rush, covering the distance between him and the nearest basilisk some fifty feet away in a blink. He slammed into the beast, striking its head with his axe, and turning it to expose its flank.

  Frost had begun charging Homer the moment Dante engaged Frenzy. A cyan glow swelled at the cannon’s muzzle. He counted seconds in his head as the aether brightened. At four, when Dante was chopping at the basilisk, Frost released the trigger. Beams of aether in the shape of missiles shot out in eight directions. As they sped across the distance, Frost fired off an Aether Shot followed by a Korbitanium Projectile burst.

  The missiles converged and exploded into the basilisk’s head and flank with repeated booms almost too close to separate. The Aether Shot and the Projectiles struck moments later. With a plaintive mewl, the basilisk dropped onto its belly.

  “Piece o’ cake.” Dante’s high-pitched voice piped through group chat. “DPS for the win.”

  Mountain Basilisk killed.

  Gained 600 experience points.

  Group bonus 450 experience points.

  Frost whistled. “That’s some sweet exp. That’s like what… a seventy-five percent bonus for being in a group?”

  “Yeah,” Dante said. “Because we’re within five levels of each other. Would be double exp in a full five-man set up the same way.”

  “Ninety-six more kills ‘til I level.” Frost looked forward to that moment. And the next. He wanted to consume himself with it all so he wouldn’t think about Gilda.

  “Let’s get going, then.” Dante was already heading for the closest basilisk. “Pew, pew.” He Frenzied and Raging Rushed.

  Over the next few kills, Frost got to experience The Stunner’s special. On occasion, any ability could incapacitate a mob. The effect was all chance.

  Frost and Dante had killed ten basilisks by the time Meritus and Saba returned with two dvergar. The little rockform men started skinning the carcasses.

  “How’s it going up there?” Frost asked Meritus.

  “Pretty good.” Meritus jutted his chin toward Dante, who was on his way to them. “How about here?”

  “Not bad. I got an idea on how to level much faster. Would take you, Saba, and your Servitors if you already have the skills.”

  “If?” Meritus gave him a sidelong glance. “You should know better than to sleep on me, dawg. You know how I roll. I got every single skill for my level and some for a few levels ahead too.”

  “Let me guess.” Saba smirked at Frost, one hoof pawing the ground as Dante joined them. “This idea will be something reckless.”

  Frost snorted. “Nothing reckless about it. Not with Dante and the Servitors tanking, Meritus healing, and the two of us using skills that also CC. Just gonna be a whole lotta fun.”

  “I’m always wary of your idea of fun.” Saba sighed.

  “Don’t worry, little lady.” Dante puffed out his chest. “I got Maim and Gravity Crush, now, which means I’ll be able to slow a bunch of ‘em, and they won’t be able to move me.”

  “Fine.” Saba huffed. “What’s the plan?”

  Frost called Ryne over. He explained his idea. The big gurash grinned madly as he listened. Saba swished her tail. Meritus just nodded.

  Ryne muttered something unintelligible under his breath before he spoke aloud. “Although I’m worth two men, I get to be backup again?”

  “Exp.” Frost shrugged and continued with the details. When he was done talking, he led them down into the center of the basilisk grazing area. He scanned the mobs surrounding them. “This is a good spot.”

  Meritus summoned his Servitors. The Bulwark was a hulking black-furred gargant some twelve feet tall. The Duelist and Shaman were both female yurids a little taller than Meritus, one with leathery wings and the other with blue plumage. A moment later, Meritus cast Aura of the Nomarch, a group buff which lasted an hour and increased the groups’ defense and vitalization gained from heals.

  “Set up about a hundred feet to our right.” Frost pointed out the spot. “Saba and I’ll pull a bunch from that side first.”

  “Got it.” Dante strode away, the Bulwark following him.

  “Saba, place the traps between him and us.”

  Saba trotted out into the space, perhaps some fifty feet. She bent in one spot. The crackling glow of a Lightning Trap materialized. She took a few steps to her right and placed another trap. Chains appeared, the m
etal glinting in the sunlight. With the Crowd Control skills in place, Saba made her way back to the group.

  Frost hefted The Stunner and took aim at the basilisk beyond Dante. “I say we lure about ten and see how it works out. Ready?”

  “Always.” Meritus stood with his Duelist and Shaman beside him.

  “I’m ready, but let me say again that this is a bad idea.” Saba’s tail swished harder than before.

  “I hear you.” Frost smiled. “That’s why we got Ryne.”

  Ryne shook his head and let out an annoyed breath. Grumbling to himself, he got his haladie and began cleaning his nails with one end of the double-bladed dagger.

  “Pulling in three… two…” Frost aimed at a group of three basilisks. “One. Pull.” He fired a Concussion Blast. The white beam was still streaking through the air when he loosed an Aether Shot.

  Saba’s bowstring strummed. In rapid succession, volleys of wooden, ice, and fire arrows flew across the distance to different targets. The volume, range, and speed of the attacks were advantages of the marksman to make up for their lack in power and AOE ability. It was due to a plethora of instacast skills with little to no recharge time.

  Frost fired off a Korbitanium Projectile burst at one more target. Saba had pulled six on her own.

  Frost held up a fist. “Stop firing and wait.”

  The basilisks charged toward him and Saba, those recovering from the Concussion Blast bringing up the rear. They were a lumbering gray-green wave of armor and thrashing tails, mewling as they came, the thunder of their feet quaking the ground.

  Dante was a lone figure between the charging monsters and the rest of the group. He Sentinel Shouted, fortifying his health and defense. The space between him and the basilisks closed. His skin flared to bright scarlet.

  The moment the first basilisks reached Dante, he spun, his crescent axe held out before him. Aether spilled from the blade’s edge. Dante spun in three revolutions, cutting into the basilisks. Not only did Dante slow the basilisks by way of Maim, but the attack also caused them to change aggro, dropping Frost and Saba as their targets, and choosing Dante instead. The last of the basilisks waddled among the others.