by Matt James
Living death, he thought. They smell like death.
They tasted like it too. He needed fresh sustenance now. He wouldn’t eat the dead again. The ones he ate were the newly turned, but some of these reeked like they’d been like this for some time.
Shetani had squeezed just enough blood out of the first few, kick-starting his body’s healing properties. He was unsure why or how it worked, but he guessed it had something to do with his unique blood. The green plasma flowing through his system didn’t match that of the others and by the ease of how they died and didn’t regenerate, he figured it was the blood that made the difference.
Go, he said aloud, instinctively knowing they’d understand. He didn’t question the beasts’ comprehension for his speech. He just used it for their own benefit.
The massive gathering surrounding his pedestal moved as one, heading in the direction of the undefinable feeling. Something was calling him to that place. He could faintly feel their presence below too, but they had only been there a short while. They were responsible for some of the bodies beneath his feet.
Wustenfuchs blinked away a memory—the pain intense—something stabbing into his neck. It was long ago and hard to concentrate on the visual aspect of it. But the pain… It was real.
He shook his head and blinked his four eyes, refocusing his attention on the matters at hand. He brought up his hands, inspecting his blood covered fingers. These were new—like the rest of him. But it felt normal. It didn’t feel new.
The scent.
He sniffed the air through the twin holes that acted as nostrils and smelled something else. There was something else in the distance to the west—away from his prey. This particular odor was far older than even he. It was beyond the borders of this land even.
Soon.
Once the inferior were dealt with, he would go west and see to this other threat. If it’s what his senses were telling him, it was the only thing that would be able to stop him. The ancientness of the smell unnerved him the most. Whatever lay to the west had been there a long, long time.
48
“Logan, you can’t be serious!”
Normally, CJ didn’t argue with her brother when it came to his job. He was the warden for a reason. He was the boss and she learned to never cross the line. Yes, they were family, but that didn’t give her the right to second guess him. He was her superior too and she needed to respect him like the others did.
Logan didn’t react to her outburst. He just sat back down at his desk and looked over his SCAR. He had six extra clips and another six grenades in a satchel on the floor next to his chair. He already had four flashbangs secured in the pockets around his BDU’s vest, easily accessible if needed. Sitting on the desk next to his rifle, was the Desert Eagle he used earlier in the night.
He looked up to his sister. “Not now, Cass.”
CJ’s face went from appalled horror, to downright pissed off. She stomped over, her face grim. “You’re going to kill yourself—you know that, right?”
He looked up to her once again. CJ instantly saw the look of fright in his eyes and the bags that hung under them. It deflated her attack and brought understanding as well. He knew he may not come back.
“Just,” CJ said, her words catching in her throat. “Just…come back to us, okay?”
Logan gave her the slightest of smiles, but there was doubt etched in it too. He was confident in his abilities to stay alive, but not in the situation itself. If there was ever a time for shit to hit the fan… It would be now.
Only Jan had fully agreed with Logan’s plan to go back to the bunker and seek out more information about the God Blood. They needed to find a weakness or possibly a cure of some sort. The only way to do that was to find Mengele’s research—which is why Logan wanted Jan to come along. It would most definitely be in German. He would need a translator for sure.
Let’s just hope the Nach have lost interest in the place and moved on, he thought. It would be a waste of a trip if they hadn’t.
“Right,” Logan said, standing, getting everyone’s attention. “Jan, Zeus, Mo, and I are going back to the bunker in Kipanga.”
Fitz began to protest, his eyes wide, but Logan cut him off with a raised hand. “You,” he said to Fitz, “Kel, CJ, Adnan, and the rest of the Olympians will remain here and prepare for anything that comes. I want this place locked down tight.”
Fitz backed down but wasn’t happy.
“The only outdoor access is to be from above. No one is to step foot outside unless it’s on the roof.” He then looked at everyone, surveying the room…and the emotions of the people in it. “Is that clear?”
No one spoke. No one acknowledged his orders, accepting or refusing them. Then, being the good soldier and even better friend, Fitz stood at attention. “Got it, mate. You can count on us.”
Logan patted Fitz on the shoulder, resting his hand on it. He then squeezed hard, locking eyes with his dear friend. “Be careful and be smart.”
Fitz smiled. “You know me… Always Mr. Careful.”
“Seriously, Gray,” Logan said, removing his hand, “I need you to be me while I’m gone. I need you to keep everyone here alive.”
That sobered up Fitz, ejecting him from his normal jovial state. “Got it, but you should take your own advice.”
“Will do,” Logan said, smiling. “Be back soon.”
He then turned to Zeus. “Tell your men that the armory is theirs. Have them restock and reload with whatever they need. I want them as geared up as they can be.”
Logan turned to leave with Jan and Zeus but stopped when Zeus put a hand to his ear, listening. Someone was contacting him via his team’s radio.
He grinned.
“What?” Logan asked, as excited as his tired body would let him be.
“Support will be here within the hour,” Zeus replied. “But we still need more information about this…outbreak.”
Logan nodded, thinking.
“How many?” Jan asked, sliding into an overstuffed, explosive-filled backpack. He was bringing the real heavy hitting equipment this time.
Destroyer, Logan thought.
“Fifty regular troops incoming from Manda Bay—with another hundred or so coming from Djibouti by morning,” Zeus said, checking one of Logan’s SCAR assault weapons over. He liked the GL40 grenade launcher attachment, opting for the more volatile weapon.
Morning, Logan thought. He doubted it would be quick enough. Well, better than nothing, I guess.
“Good enough,” Logan said, looking to Mo. “Get Kipanga prepped and ready to go. We’ll be up in five minutes.”
Mo nodded and headed for the door—not before grabbing a Mossberg shotgun from one of the racks and a box of shells. Even though he rarely ever stepped foot on the ground during these kinds of operations, Mo always went prepared.
He continued forward, exiting the Observation Deck’s open double doors. He’d been meaning to remove the actual doors, they were never closed, to begin with.
On any other day, he would either use the lift or turn right and use the stairs to go down, but today was a different day. He opted for the third choice and headed left, following the metal catwalk around another twenty feet. It dead ended at a simple metal ladder, which went straight up for fifteen more feet before coming to a hatch similar to the one above the Nazi bunker.
His clanging footsteps echoed around the immense innards of the Bullpen, reverberating off every metallic surface like gunshots. Reaching out with a hand, he hoisted himself up and started his ascent.
A few seconds later he arrived at the combination lock keypad on the underside of the metal hatch, quickly punching in his personal code. Everyone had a different combo too. It was an easy way for them to keep track of things around here. Mo didn’t think it was necessary, though, just Logan being ultra-paranoid with his security measures.
The hatch popped open, swinging on a hydraulic hinge. Mo climbed out and stood on the roof, closing his eyes. He focused on the bree
ze coming in over the building, smelling the night sky.
After his second breath, he opened his eyes and looked down at his hands. They were shaking. Calm, he thought, mentally directing the command to them. Mo was not normally a nervous person, especially when flying, but tonight had taught him something.
Even the strongest of us can get scared.
That was apparent with Logan, Fitz, and even Jan. They were hardened from war and all three of them were openly terrified at one point or another since the sun went down.
But Mo had stayed quiet, only voicing his opinion when he thought it relevant. He didn’t like this plan—not one bit—but Logan was the undeniable leader and Mo never openly questioned one of his decisions. He trusted the man fully.
“You good, Mo?”
Mo quickly turned, startled by the intruder. He thought he was still alone and didn’t hear anyone climb up behind him. Logan was standing in front of the hatch, dressed for combat, with Jan climbing out right behind him.
Am I good?
Mo wasn’t sure what to say. He had known Logan longer than anyone here besides CJ and Fitz. If he was to argue the point and voice his concerns, Logan was bound to listen.
“Fine, Logan,” he heard himself say on impulse. He truly did trust Logan to the fullest and wouldn’t be expressing his apprehension tonight.
“Let’s just get there and get back.”
Mo watched as Logan laughed, relieved that his friend was apparently levelheaded. The last thing Logan needed right now was a shaky pilot manning a helicopter.
Logan slapped Mo on the shoulder as Zeus emerged behind Jan. They were all armed to the teeth and as ready as ever to take on whatever lay before them.
“Besides,” Logan said, “we’ll be in the air… It’s not like any of these bastards can fly.”
49
Shetani fed, regaining some of his strength. His body’s continued evolution had sapped him of it, leaving him weaker. He was still a dominating presence even in his frailer state, but ever since the emergence of Wustenfuchs, he had felt something odd brewing in his mind. Doubt.
Doubt was a new emotion and it wasn’t the only one he had experienced lately. He felt like something was clicking in his mind as time passed. He understood things better like it was second nature. His speech with Wustenfuchs developed better too, speaking aloud with less pause. It still took him a great deal of concentration to think of the right words to use, but just a few short hours earlier, he didn’t even know what speech was.
Intimidation was also a feeling Shetani was unsure of. In his time awake, he had considered himself the alpha and the omega. The beginning and the end. He was the one to be feared above everything else. But now?
If it came to it, he was confident in his abilities to retake the reign, but he still had his reservations. Wustenfuchs had yet to show his true capabilities, other than hunting and killing his next meal.
Shetani’s prior evaluation to his elder being a quick and lethal killer had been correct. He watched as the four-armed beast sprang on a juvenile elephant like a cat would a mouse. He jumped high into the air and landed on the animal’s back, startling it.
As the full-grown pachyderm thrashed, unsure of where the attack originated, Wustenfuchs slowly and methodically crawled towards its head, gripping its flesh. Once within range, it flipped so as to face the animal, driving its original set of hands into the elephant’s hide. Then, with a firm grip, Wustenfuchs drove its secondary arms forward, using the long talons to pierce the animal’s eyes.
The claws buried deep, finding something vital, causing the five-ton creature to pitch forward, dead on its feet. It was over in seconds, taking only one precise strike. Then, he fed.
The sound of tearing flesh pulled Shetani away from his meal as he felt something on his back pulling and twisting. He tried to look back, but his bulky neck and shoulder muscles wouldn’t allow it. He just calmed and waited, feeling it out. The bones on his back were still too frail to do anything with, and he expected them to turn into a second set of arms like his ancestor had.
The pain stopped and another sensation overtook his body. It was a natural one, like using his legs to walk or run. There was no thought in the natural motion. It was involuntary, like breathing.
He willed the bones to move—and they did. He willed them to fold back down to his back—and they did, but they felt heavy. They had changed again. He spread them open again, still not being able to physically see them.
It’s then he saw his shadow in the moonlight. There was a section that his massive form always blotted out, but now it looked different. It was broader—more widespread.
He flexed the new growths again, watching his shadow move in unison. It made him smile. He knew what had grown.
Moving them again, Shetani created a small breeze against his back. Some of the grass on the ground around him also bent with the invisible force.
He roared into the sky, loud enough for all of Africa to tremble, and beat the bone and membrane appendages, flapping them madly until his body rose off the ground ever so slightly. He was still too weak for them to be used to their fullest potential, but soon they would be ready. He needed to feed again.
He sniffed the air, looking for his next target, finding it a half a mile away. It wasn’t in the direction they were currently traveling, but it also wasn’t too far out of the way, either. He was confident he could make it there and then catch up.
Shetani dug into the turf and sprang into motion. That was something he knew he had on Wustenfuchs. He was much faster than his relative when out in open space, being able to run on all fours. He could feel his oversized muscles churning the dirt underneath him, gaining momentum, pumping harder and harder with every stride.
He grinned as he neared his next meal, knowing it should be enough to fully strengthen his new form.
Shetani… Devil.
He wouldn’t only call himself one.
He would truly become one.
50
“We’ll be as quick as we can!” Logan shouted over the swirling wind. “Pull up and wait here! I want a quick EVAC if all hell breaks loose.”
Mo nodded and pulled up, lifting the aircraft higher into the sky. Logan watched from atop the kopje as the spectral form of Kipanga disappeared, camouflaging itself against the blackness of night.
They had arrived a few minutes before, relieved to find the bunker and pit virtually abandoned. They had only seen a few stragglers in the vicinity, but none of them paid them any attention. They just seemed disinterested with the large metal object hovering in the sky.
Confirming once more that they were undeniably alone, Logan gave the grounds around the rock formation one last glance. He then climbed into the vertical shaft, but stopped, looking at the open hatch. He contemplated closing it, keeping out anything that may return and smell their fresh scents. He then quickly belayed the thought. Being locked down in this place gave him a horrible feeling. As a man driven by gut-instinct, Logan left it open and descended after the rest of his team.
The clanging of his boots on the metal ladder stopped once he again reached the solid ground of the bunker’s entrance. Jan and Zeus were already further down the hall but waited for Logan before entering the next corridor.
“Alright,” Logan said softly, “let’s get this over with.” He then stopped behind the other men. “Jan clear left. Zeus the right.”
Both men confirmed with a silent nod and did their duties, clearing each side of the hall before stepping out. Zeus had loosened up a little since Logan took command of his men. He was a true soldier and hadn’t argued about anything since. The loss of so many men when they arrived made it pretty clear that they were definitely out of their element.
Not that we’re bloody experts, Logan thought, stepping into the hall. He looked at the door labeled, Waschraum, remembering Jan’s comments about the seventy-year-old shitter it contained.
“Logan?”
He turned left, barely hearin
g Jan’s whisper, and found the man staring at the floor between him and the first door—the barracks. Logan stepped up next to him and instantly realized what had given the big man pause.
Saami and Pandu’s bodies were gone.
“Bugger,” Logan mumbled.
“What?” Zeus asked, joining the two SDF men. Seeing it too, he pointed forward, confused. “Weren’t your men supposed to be here?”
“They were here,” Jan replied, leveling his shotgun down the hall. “Where they are now, I have no idea.”
Neither did Logan. Either they were still alive—which Logan knew was impossible. He, CJ, and Jan had shredded the dead form of Pandu and Logan himself had finished off Saami.
The other option gave him a sickening feeling.
“We’re not alone down here.”
Zeus spun and aimed his weapon—one of Logan’s SCAR rifles—down the way they came, covering their rears. But there was nothing, just the emptiness of the hall that had greeted them upon their arrival.
“Do we abort?” Zeus asked, still scanning the dark hallway behind them.
“We cannot,” Jan replied, looking to Logan for his approval.
“Jan’s right,” Logan said. “This may be our only shot at finding anything useful down here. If we run into anything unfriendly, we’ll take it down with extreme prejudice.”
Zeus laughed. “You sound like one of the bureaucrats back home—the tightwads not on the battlefields fighting, making decisions from the shadows.”
Logan grinned. He was starting to like Zeus more and more. He was his kind of soldier.
“Okay, Jan,” Logan said, “where to first?”
Jan pointed down the hall. “I think we should try Mengele’s office again and see if we can find something. We didn’t really know what to look for last time.”