by Colin Sims
I sat up with his help, still coughing violently. My body felt like it was made of tired wood and would splinter apart with each cough. Still, I’d never been happier to see Alec in my entire life.
“Take this,” he said as he thrust a canteen in my face. I took it with a dusty hand as another bout of coughing bent me in half. “Just don’t hog it,” he added.
I sipped at the water between coughs until I drank the last of it—there wasn’t much—and managed to clear my throat. Looking past Alec, I saw a wide swath of destruction behind him. Several of his Special Missions team were crouched behind cover, aiming in different directions. I assumed they were the reason the three Mantidae I’d seen earlier were no longer around.
“Alec,” I finally choked, lowering the canteen. He glanced at me for a second before returning his eyes to the holoscope. “What the hell is happening?” I asked.
“Deadlanders call them ‘Slicers,’” he answered, still focused on the street. “Never seen this many, though.”
It took me a second to compute what he’d just said. He’d seen them before?
A virtual explosion of questions went off inside my head, but I knew they had to wait. There wasn’t any time for explanations, and I could hear gunfire again in the distance. I started to stand up.
“Good.” Alec nodded, helping me to my feet. “It would have been bad for everyone if I had to carry you the rest of the way.”
“Where are we going?” I asked distractedly, looking down at my hand. The pistol was busted.
“Capitol Bunker,” Alec said, waving a command at his team. “Mom and Dad are there. There’s a tunnel we can use to get out of the city, but we have to hurry.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, grabbing his arm. “Leave the city? And go where?”
Alec smirked, glancing ominously at my hand on his bicep. “The rest of the world. There’s nowhere else to run.” He then raised his voice slightly and whisper-shouted, “Let’s move out!” and the rest of his team made their way, one at a time, to different points along the street, providing cover as the others moved.
I stayed with Alec, running when he ran, and ducking when he ducked. We were making our way through the back alleys and side streets leading to the Capitol House. It seemed eerie that there were no people on the streets, as if Boise had already been abandoned. I wondered if it had. But where would everyone go? Even if they left the city, surely these “slicers” could still find them.
Crouching behind a charred truck frame, I couldn’t help but ask Alec if the city had been evacuated. I was thinking of my friends back at Prep.
“I don’t see how,” he answered grimly. He kept his eyes locked ahead.
“Then where is everybody?” I asked.
“The bunkers are all underground, so they’re either alive down there or …”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
“Or what?” I asked.
Alec shot me an angry glance. “Or,” he said through clenched teeth, “they’re all down there and they’re dead. Wouldn’t take more than one Slicer per shelter. The things are everywhere, especially in the tunnels.”
“But isn’t that where we’re going?”
“Not this tunnel.” Alec shook his head. “Not yet, anyway.”
I followed him to the next spot, a dented trash dumpster.
“What about my school?” I asked. “We have to—”
“Quiet,” Alec commanded, holding up a finger. He reached slowly for the radio on his shoulder and calmly stated, “Got one. Eleven o’clock. Thirty meters. Christianson, you see him?”
My breath caught in my throat. I looked frantically for any signs of a Slicer, but I couldn’t see anything. I even tried looking at Alec’s holoscope, but it was all blue.
Christianson’s voice crackled softly through the speaker, “I’ve got him. Moving right.”
One of the soldiers to our left ran at a crouch to the corner of a nearby wall.
“I don’t see anything,” I said quietly.
Alec shushed me, raising a finger again. “Radiation spike. Behind that building. Stay behind me whatever you do.”
I glanced at his holoscope again. The display was more complex than the ones I used in Boot. It had several different numbers and gauges displayed in the corners, and I guessed that one of them must have said something about radiation.
Another voice came through Alec’s radio, “Hanson moving left. Second position up.”
“Roger that,” Alec spoke into the radio, tilting his head. “Williams, rear cover.”
“On it,” came another voice.
“All positions ready?” Alec asked after a few seconds.
A series of responses poured in: “Christianson, go,” “Hanson go,” “Williams go,” and several others.
“On my mark,” Alec said, and there was a second’s pause before he pointed his rifle straight up and fired a quick volley into the air at full auto.
I winced, startled, wondering why in the hell he had aimed upward like that. It was as if he was announcing to the Slicer exactly where we were.
Long seconds passed in quiet as we listened to the echo of the shots bounce between buildings. Ten seconds. Then twenty. Nothing happened. I was about to ask Alec what was going on when I got my answer. There was a hideous, unearthly shriek as a giant Slicer jumped into the street ahead of us.
Alec leveled his weapon and fired bursts of ammunition, tagging it with a full clip of Seekers. But the bullets weren’t stopping it. If anything, they were just a distraction.
A pair of distinct thumps came from Christianson’s position, blowing the bug to pieces with his grenade launcher.
“Positive kill,” his voice came through Alec’s radio.
“Like poetry,” Alec responded, keeping his eyes fixed on the buildings ahead. “Scopes are clear,” he added. “Anyone got anything?”
A series of “negatives” and “all clears” came through the receiver.
As I listened to them, I realized what Alec had done. He must have manually locked onto the Mantidae with his scope, and the Seekers, fired straight up, came right down on top of the thing, forcing it out of hiding.
It was almost unnerving, the way he did it so easily. Unlike Jones and O’Brian, Alec and his guys seemed to know exactly how to fight these things.
Alec ejected his magazine and reached for a new one. Without looking at me he said, “All right, we’re moving. You good?”
I nodded, still dumbfounded.
“In combat,” he continued, scanning the alley ahead, “verbal responses are generally preferable.”
“I’m good,” I answered quickly.
He looked at me as he locked in a new mag. “Then let’s go.”
We weaved our way through the abandoned buildings for minutes on end, constantly watching for any additional Slicers. I knew exactly where we were at all times. I’d played in many of these streets as a kid. It felt beyond strange to now be moving through them, terrified, and with guns.
Finally, we reached the Capitol House. Alec set a tone of extreme caution as we advanced toward the side entrance. The building didn’t look good. Large sections of the great edifice were caved in from heavy explosions while low-burning fires smoked from the broken windows. I felt my heart race as I realized I was looking at the aftermath of a battle.
Most of Alec’s guys fanned out to keep watch along the exterior, while only Christianson came with us inside. For a second, as we crossed the threshold, my eyes became stuck on the bloody remains of a dead soldier. Alec ordered me to keep going. I felt like I was going to vomit. I’d gone from school pranks to this in a matter of minutes.
“Keep your eyes open,” Alec said quietly.
The hallway was dark and smoky, just like the hydro-tower had been. It was eerie. I’d lived in this place for years, and yet it looked completely different now, like a dark labyrinth in a nightmare.
“I need a gun,” I suddenly said, prompting Alec and Christianson to both shush me.<
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“That’s a negative,” Alec replied. “If one of them jumps out, you’re as likely to shoot us as them. Just stay quiet.”
He was probably right. Still, I would’ve felt a lot better with a weapon in my hand. We continued moving through the building, taking the stairs to the basement where the bunker was. It was a newly constructed facility, sunk deep into the earth during the time of the Hopeless. I knew from my mom that it had been used as a command center during parts of the fighting in the old days.
My heart leapt at the thought that I was finally about to see my parents. Once I was with them, I’d be safe. They’d know where to go and what to do. They always did. And this time, I’d follow without a single complaint.
“Hold it,” Alec whispered, holding up his fist. His M4 was aimed fixedly at the closed door at the bottom of the stairwell. Christianson automatically pointed his grenade launcher in the opposite direction.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Something’s not right,” Alec answered, staying still.
I thought for a moment before asking, “A Slicer?”
“Can’t tell,” he whispered back, his eyes flitting along some of the readouts on his holoscope. “No radiation. But the vault should be sealed by now and it’s not.”
“So what do we do?” I asked, panic seeping back into my voice. “Are you sure I can’t have a gun?”
I caught Alec’s smirk. “No,” he said. “And what we do—is go in there. Just carefully. Christianson, we clear?”
“We’re good, Cap. You want me on point?”
“You’ve got the bazooka,” Alec answered.
By “bazooka,” I assumed Alec meant Christianson’s six-round grenade launcher, which with the holoscope and Special Missions mods looked as formidable a weapon as ever existed.
Christianson squeezed past us on the stairs and stepped cautiously to the door. I hadn’t really noticed before, but he was a seriously big guy—taller than Alec and built like a tree trunk. It seemed weird to me that Alec was the guy giving him orders. I knew my brother was an officer, I’d just never actually seen him being one.
“Opening,” Christianson called back, and then he kicked the door off its hinges like it was plastic. The pair of them rushed inside, sweeping the room in opposite directions. I waited on the bottom stair.
“It’s clear,” I heard Christianson shout.
I waited for Alec to shout the same, but he didn’t. There was only silence as I saw Christianson walk past the door in Alec’s direction. His face looked frozen in disgust.
“What’s going on?” I called out, stepping forward. “Is everyone all right?”
As I rounded the doorway, Alec was right there, blocking my view of the room. He held his hands up, not letting me past.
“Michael, stay here. You don’t want to see this.”
My heart beat faster. I knew immediately what he was doing. There were dead people in that room. The room where my parents were supposed to be …
“Let me go!” I shouted suddenly, pushing at his chest. But there was no moving him. He was far too strong for that.
“Just stay here,” he said again, keeping his arms raised. “Let me deal with this.”
“Are they in there?” I screamed, pushing him again.
“Alec!” Christianson’s voice rang out. “Both of you. I don’t see them!”
Alec partially dropped his hands as he turned. “What are you talking about?”
I seized the chance to slip past him into the room, where along the far wall was an open, vault-like door that I assumed was the entrance to the emergency bunker. Christianson was inside it, picking his way through a pile of dead bodies. It was the goriest sight I’d ever seen, but all I cared about was finding my mom and dad.
“Your parents,” Christianson said, scanning the ground. “They’re not here!”
“You’re sure?” Alec ran into the bunker, searching wildly. I followed him and asked where they could’ve gone.
He told me he didn’t know. He was moving from one corpse to another, looking at each face. “I can’t believe it,” he said under his breath. “I thought they were both—”
He was suddenly interrupted when one of the corpses coughed.
Like lightning, Alec and Christianson spun around and aimed their weapons.
The “corpse’s” ebony face was bloody and half-charred … but I recognized him immediately.
“Uncle Shaw!” I yelled, running and crouching next to him. Alec joined me while Christianson pointed his weapon through the doorway.
The old man coughed, blinking open his one good eye. Half his face was burned to the bone.
“A miracle,” he sputtered, trying to reach for us. Blood and spittle were hanging from his lips as he struggled for each breath. “You survived,” he said.
“Just hang in there,” Alec told him hurriedly, snatching a med kit from his pack. He started pulling out a pack of bandages and disinfectant. “We’re going to get you fixed up.”
Shaw gave a slight gurgle that sounded like an attempt to laugh. “I’m done, boy,” he croaked. “Bandages aren’t going to help.”
“Just let him help you,” I said, grasping his hand. “Where are my parents? Do you know what happened?”
Shaw shook his head slowly, as if searching for the right words. “Winters took them,” he said angrily. “Those damned Droids. Took them in the helicopter.”
“What do you mean ‘he took them?’” Alec asked, cutting away some of Shaw’s tattered clothes. He poured some of the powdered disinfectant on a wound that even I could tell was fatal.
Before Shaw could mutter a response, I felt my stomach churn. It took me a second to figure it out. My parents. The helicopter. New America.
“Alec,” I said quietly. He kept dressing Shaw’s wound, focusing on nothing else. So I repeated a little louder, “Alec.”
He finally looked at me. “What?”
“They’re dead …”
There was a moment’s pause, the very worst of my life, as all sound in the room seemed to stop.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Alec asked, getting back to work.
I looked at Shaw then back at him. “That wreckage we saw outside was the helicopter. I saw it explode.”
Alec kept fixing Shaw’s wound, not looking up. “You’re wrong,” he said flatly. “There are other helicop—”
“He’s not wrong,” Shaw interrupted forcefully, reaching for Alec’s hands to push them away. “I tried to stop them, but they’re gone. I’m sorry, son. But listen to me now, both of you, there’s not much time.” He yanked a thin chain from his neck and pulled it from the tattered remains of his bloody shirt. A small black box hung from the end. He handed it to Alec. “This was your father’s. You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”
Alec nodded. I did, too. My dad always wore it around his neck, just like Shaw had been doing. I’d never really thought to ask him what it was. I just figured it was a memento of some kind. Maybe something from childhood.
“He gave it to me for safe-keeping.” Shaw coughed before raising his voice and growled, “It cannot fall into the wrong hands. You must take it. Figure it out. Everything depends on it, do you understand?”
Alec took the chain, but didn’t look at it. His focus was still on Shaw, who descended into a violent fit of coughing. Blood was spurting from his mouth with each gasp, dripping down his chin in a constant stream.
“Alec!” he croaked fiercely, grabbing my brother’s shirt. He kept hacking and spouting blood, but willed himself to speak. “Alec,” he rasped again. “Remember what we told you! You must protect Michael at all costs!”
I looked to Alec, searching for an explanation. But he was still focused on Shaw’s eyes, almost matching the old man’s in intensity.
“I remember,” he told him. “And I will.”
Shaw gave a final gasp, his eye turning on me with a slight sparkle. It looked like hope.
I gripped his hand tighter�
��willing him to take another breath—but his arm fell limp in my grasp.
Chapter 6
I felt numb. Everyone I knew was either dead or probably dead. The shock was suffocating. It clung to me like a wet sheet. Everything felt muted and surreal. Even when Alec yanked me to my feet and told me we needed to go, I felt like it was the world that was moving, not me. I was standing still, even as I blankly followed Alec into the stairwell.
“Where can we go?” I asked quietly. I couldn’t see any way out of the place we were in. How could we survive in any direction? Boise was gone. And the Deadlands beyond were as deadly as the claws of a Slicer. The only things out there were death, desperation, and more death. Or at least, that’s what I’d always been taught.
“The Deadlands,” Alec said to me. “We’re going out there and we’re going to survive. There’s a way under the fence that we can use. No one knows about it, and I doubt the bugs have been able to find it either.”
“How did they get in here?” I suddenly asked, as if breaking from a fog. “This room, do you see any …?” My voice trailed off as I saw the recognition spread across Alec’s face.
He glanced at Christianson before looking back at me. “You’re right,” he said hesitantly, stepping back inside the bunker’s entrance room. Christianson followed him, his weapon raised.
“There’re no holes in the walls,” Alec noted, sweeping the room with his rifle. “No holes in the bunker either.”
“And it was definitely a Slicer,” Christianson added, nodding toward the pile of torn-up corpses.
“Did it use the door?” I asked, looking to both Alec and Christianson. From the looks on their faces, I’d just asked exactly what they were thinking.
“That’s a little freaky,” Alec said, still eyeing every corner of the room. “It came in here, killed everyone, and then closed the door when it left?”
“Smart,” said Christianson under his breath. “If they were setting a—” He whipped his head toward Alec, his eyes wide. They both pointed their weapons at the stairwell.
“Michael, get behind me,” Alec ordered.
I did as he said, never taking my eyes off the entrance to the stairs. I could sense the dread in both him and Christianson as they took cautious steps forward.