by Matt James
“Mo, here,” the pilot replied from somewhere overhead.
“We need pickup,” Logan said, sniffing his sleeve, cringing, “and a shower.”
He rolled onto his back and listened as the tell-tale whup of the Blackhawk’s rotor blades chopped through the air. He couldn’t yet see it, but he knew Mo was directly overhead and descending fast. They needed to get back to HQ and prepare for what was coming. The lack of Nach around the bunker disturbed him even more than the rot sticking to his skin. If he were the enemy, he would bring the fight to their front door. They needed to be there when it happened.
He groaned, standing. “Jan, Zeus… Get ready for EVAC—we’re not done.”
53
“I want the second .50 mounted here,” Fitz said, pointing to the northern most section of the roof. It’s the same spot he had been firing from before, but with his XM25. The ledge’s central location would help add to the already natural choke point of the front gate.
“Hades,” Ares said, keeping watch over the gate from above, “the gun is yours.” He then turned to face his teammate. “Be ready.”
The plan was to wait for the incoming force to get a little closer, and lead them to the gate. Most of the front line was made up of smaller, less menacing species, but Fitz knew they would still be a threat. Once the larger of the Nach arrived they would blow the gate, obliterating them, and hopefully confusing the rest. Hades would pour into them with the M2A1 and him his XM25.
The Aussie looked down to his feet, seeing the boxes of explosive 25mm shells. He brought every single one he had left up from the armory around Logan’s workstation—about four-dozen of the powerful little bastards. He then looked around the .50 cal and saw the boxes of ammo for it. They lugged up as many as they could spare without completely disarming the heavy machine gun in the Rhino.
It’ll have to do, Fitz thought, itching his beard. He instantly decided to shave it if they got out of this mess alive.
He looked back to his left, seeing another of the Delta men setting up one of Logan’s M82 sniper rifles. Logan had suggested they bring the two he had out of retirement and set them up on the roof too. It was an extreme upgrade over Kel and Dada’s cover fire from before. They would be able to take limbs off with those things, not just put holes in them. The second M82 would be set up twenty feet to the right of the machine gun.
Operation Overkill, Fitz thought. Nothing could get through this. His shoulders sagged. Nothing human… But they weren’t fighting a human enemy. They were fighting something straight from the depths of Hell itself.
“Fitz, this is Mo, over.”
He keyed his earbud. “Go ahead, Mo.”
“We are incoming. Prepare the roof for landing in ten minutes.”
“Roger that, mate,” Fitz replied, watching the others clear the landing pad of boxes and loose garbage. “Any luck?”
“Some,” Mo replied, “but it can wait. I’m assuming you’ve seen the sensors?”
“We have,” he said. “We’re just about done setting up here… Why?”
Fitz waited for a reply. It eventually came, but not from Mo.
“Gray, it’s Logan.”
“Yeah, boss?” Fitz asked, concerned with his friend’s tone.
“We found some info on the Nach in Mengele’s office. Jan is going through it now, but…”
The pause in Logan’s voice sounded solemn—like he was defeated.
“Logan?”
“Sorry, Fitz, but it doesn’t look good.”
* * *
“What doesn’t look good,” Fitz asked, his comms crackling for a second.
Logan found it hard to explain what Jan had read, unsure of how to properly convey the information. “Hang on… Jan?”
Jan looked up and spoke. “The God Blood is an altered version of a natural genetic deformity from somewhere to the west—in the jungles of the Congo, I believe. The SS found it while searching for some relic for Hitler.” He flipped to the next page. “Mengele heard news of a tribe with a feral and monstrous disposition, requesting to study the body of the one they had killed. It was the first time he had come to Africa—”
“But not the last,” Fitz said, getting the point.
“Correct,” Jan said, continuing. “The tribe reacted like any normal off-the-radar tribe would when conflicted with an unknown invader.”
“Right,” Fitz said. “They let the SS waltz in and slaughter their people.” He shook his head. Like the bloody Aztecs. They had let Cortez and the Spanish march right into the heart of their kingdom and take control. Thought they were bloody gods and—
“Not exactly…” Jan said.
“Huh?” Fitz replied, thrown off.
“The Nazi report says the Verbraucher—the tribe—did, in fact, allow them safe passage into their village, but they weren’t permitted to leave.”
“The indigenous people turned on the Nazis, surrounding and slaughtering eight men in a matter of seconds,” Logan added, cutting in. He and Jan had quickly gone over the find before contacting Fitz back home. “They were said to instantly grow lion’s teeth and eagle’s talons, and they used them to decimate the soldiers’ ranks before disappearing back into the jungle, taking most of the dead with them.”
“Hang on, mate,” Fitz said. “You’re telling me the bastards could control the virus?”
“Yes,” Jan replied. “But it wasn’t a virus to them. Mengele’s research showed that the one they killed may have been born with it. It was a natural evolutionary trait among the Verbraucher. They may have even evolved into a different species of Homo sapien.”
“Verbraucher?” Fitz asked, hearing the name again.
“Fitz,” Logan said, “it means eaters. The Nachzehrer are real and I think this is where the legend originated. The folklore even says you must take their head in order to kill them. Sound familiar?”
Logan looked up to Jan for confirmation. The German nodded. He was thinking the same thing.
“But I thought the legend was older than the Nazis—and German, for the matter—not African?” Fitz asked.
“It is,” Jan said, “but who’s to say this wasn’t the first time the tribe had been visited—or maybe the Verbraucher traveled across the continent and were seen by early explorers. Karl Mauch was a well-known traveler who found some ruins in Zimbabwe in the 1870’s. Who’s to say he himself didn’t run into the tribe. We don’t know how far their territory reached back then—or if it even still exists today. Plus, Mauch reportedly fell from a balcony and died. Some say it was an accident, but what if he saw something that haunted him until the day he finally jumped?” Jan breathed. “Does it honestly matter?”
Logan agreed. It didn’t matter how the legend of the Nachzehrer was started. What really mattered was that it was real and had been altered.
And it was spreading.
If he had been Mauch and not a soldier accustomed to death, he may have done the same and ended it before it drove him mad.
PTSD be damned, he thought, looking out the window of the Blackhawk. These nightmares are going to be much worse.
54
“Good God, Logan! You smell like a shithouse!”
Logan laughed as CJ approached, helping him from the rear of Kipanga. They had just set down and were now unloading, getting ready for the next phase… The attack and hopeful defense of the SDF headquarters.
“Thanks, Cass,” Logan said. “You wouldn’t happen to have a wet nap handy, would you?”
She grinned.
Logan knew if it were her covered in the fluids of a Nach, she’d get ripped for it too. It was not only their personal relationship but that of former military. Joking around was an easy way to break the nervous tension before, or in this case after, a battle.
She led him to the stairwell hatch on the roof, but he stopped and turned, surveying the current set up. He saw three of the Olympian Delta team members manning weapons—his two sniper rifles and the second of the .50 caliber machine guns they had
on hand.
He watched as Fitz finished a conversation with Ares. Then, his friend turned and made his way over to him and CJ a grim look on his face. Logan wasn’t sure what upset Fitz since they couldn’t hear any of the exchange between the two men over the noise of Kipanga winding down.
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked, concerned.
Fitz stopped. “You smell like zombie dung. We could smell you from over there. I told Ares I needed to come over here and get the hose.”
Logan looked over and saw Ares smiling just before he turned around to man his post. Seems that Fitz was definitely helping the newcomers fit in. He had a way of loosening up even the most uptight people—like a group of highly-skilled no-nonsense soldiers.
“Thanks,” Logan said, trying to scrape off what looked like a piece of skin with black fur.
“The hell is that?” Fitz asked, his nose turned up in disgust.
“Baboon, I think,” Logan replied, peeling off the sliver of flesh. He then quickly flung it at Fitz and watched the man lunge to the side, barely avoiding the flap.
He turned and headed for the stairs, but not before seeing a look of hate coming from Fitz. “Try that shit again,” Fitz said, doing his best not to laugh, “and I will end your stanky ass.”
Logan climbed into the hatch. “Speaking of stank,” he said, “I need a shower. I’ll be out in ten. If something happens, come get me, will you?”
Fitz’s eyes narrowed, but CJ cut in before Fitz had a chance to sling his empty threats again. “I’ll come find you, brother. Go and wash up. You’re seriously making my hair go white right now.”
He smiled slightly and clopped down the ladder back into the relative safety of the Bullpen. Kel had taken care of the dead mongoose while they were gone and CJ temporarily moved in with Jan now that their relationship was out in the open. Her room was a biohazard for now. No one wanted to be in there and Logan didn’t want anyone inside it—let alone his sister of all people.
As soon as his boots hit the catwalk of the second floor, someone came banging up behind him. He turned and found Adnan who looked like he saw a ghost.
“What?” Logan asked, instantly knowing he wasn’t getting his rinse. Adnan was one of the few who hadn’t been out in the fray of things. He’d kept himself fairly composed throughout the entire incident so far. He, like Logan, always kept himself busy, never giving himself time to reflect on the things happening around him.
“The Nach,” he said. “They are headed this way.”
“I know, but how many—”
“All of them,” Adnan quickly said.
“All of them?” Logan asked.
“Yes,” Adnan replied. “There must be over a thousand of the creatures coming straight here. He looked down at his watch. “At their current pace, they’ll be here in thirty minutes.”
Yep, Logan thought, definitely no shower.
He skirted around Adnan and entered the command center, stripping his armor and most of his clothes along the way. He grabbed a fresh set from a row of hangers behind his desk. There was always a spare set handy. Just in case.
Be prepared…
“What are we going do?” Adnan asked, following him. “How can we stop that many?”
Logan paused and looked up to Adnan, his eyes giving away his feelings. Logan had no idea what to do. “We fight and hold out as long as we can until the next wave from Manda Bay gets here.”
“LockDown?” Adnan asked.
Logan stood, shirt in hand, weary of the question.
LockDown was a failsafe that was discussed as a last resort act if an enemy large enough ever presented itself.
This counts.
He rubbed his forehead but answered quickly.
“Yes,” he said, “lock us down tight. Let everyone know to get downstairs ASAP. I want only essential personal topside when the Nach arrive.”
“Cassidy?”
Logan paused again, about to slip the clean shirt over his head. CJ would not hear of hiding from the incoming threat, but Logan knew she’d get herself killed if she stayed.
“Kicking and screaming, Adnan. She does not stay here.”
Adnan nodded. He would respect Logan’s wishes and make sure his sister was safe.
Logan watched as Adnan walked away, thinking to himself. Everyone had that look. The internal battle was definitely raging in the software engineer’s head.
Two sets of feet came up quickly from behind Logan. By the sounds of the short, quick strides and the slower, heavier strides, Logan knew it was Fitz and Jan.
He slid his shirt on, but not before giving his chest hair a quick baby wipe bath, and dousing himself in a fresh coat of cologne and deodorant. He had to mask the scent coming from his body any way he could. His headache was raging now and the smell was aggravating it further. The last thing he needed was a full-blown migraine right now.
They both came around the corner quickly, standing before Logan in all his half-naked glory. Each man looked utterly exhausted like how he felt now, but neither man complained. They had all been through hell before, at one time or another… But not like this.
“We just heard,” Fitz said, all business. “What’s the call?”
“LockDown,” Logan simply said, stepping into a fresh pair of pants.
“Dammit,” Fitz said under his breath. It was their worst and last case scenario.
“You sure?” he asked.
Logan nodded. “If it gets to a certain point, we’ll need to take action on a larger scale. Bullets only do so much damage against an army this size.”
No one agreed with the ultimate result of Lock Down, but in this instance, it may be the only viable way to stop the Nach. If they could get the concentration of them near or at least around the compound, then it was possible, but it would be Logan’s call. He would have to press the proverbial—and in this case—literal button.
“Jan,” Logan said, “get everyone downstairs that doesn’t need to be here.” He emphasized “everyone,” making sure he understood that he primarily meant CJ.
He got it.
“Logan,” Fitz said, “Jan found out something else about the Nach you should hear.”
Eyebrow raised, Logan waited for Jan to begin.
“I may have a way of stopping them, without obliterating the Bullpen and everything in it.”
“Tell me,” Logan said, desperately needing a little good news.
“The Nach—they are ultrasensitive to light, yes? But I thought it was just a sensitivity based on what we’ve seen—their extreme nocturnal nature, I mean,” he waved to the outer windows, “like now.”
“Okay?” Logan said, unsure of where this was going.
“Mengele’s notes went on to explain a side effect of the blood in the Nach. Remember the veins—how we could see them just under the skin on some of the creatures?”
Logan nodded, recalling the red pulsating veins on the rhinoceroses’ and Irwin’s bodies. The rest of the animals had fur covering them, but Logan had no reason not to believe they also weren’t present on those species too.
“What about them?” Logan asked.
“The light sensitivity is their downfall. It messes with their blood on a biochemical scale. For whatever reason, direct light can literally fry them. They can burn to death from the inside out.”
“It’s why the flashbangs hurt them so badly,” Fitz added. “We just need a steadier source of illumination. The flashbangs are too short and sweet for it to kill them.”
“What of the fur?” Logan asked. “Does it protect them from the light?”
Jan’s face fell a little. “I’m afraid it doesn’t say.”
Damn, Logan thought. Let’s hope it still works.
Either way, he perked up at hearing the news. There was a way to actually kill them without the use of their quickly diminishing firepower. Even the ever-prepared Logan Reed didn’t have that much ammo on hand. They’d need more than just bullets and explosions. They needed—
&nbs
p; Logan looked down at his watch but realized he took it off to change. “What time is it?”
Fitz and Jan both looked down at their own watches and said together, “Five o’clock.”
Logan slipped on another pair of socks, followed by his boots. He then started to put his other Kevlar vest on, but Fitz stopped him.
“Why?”
Logan looked up. “We need to delay them any way we can. In an hour, all our troubles will disappear… Literally”
“What happens in an hour?” Fitz asked.
Jan whispered something in German, most likely a curse, but the look on his face told Logan he understood. “The sun, Gray.” He smiled. “The sun will begin to rise in one hour.”
55
“The sun? That’s your plan? You want to use the sun to overheat the enemy.”
Logan could hear the disbelief in Zeus’ voice, but he didn’t argue against it. He may not fully believe that the ultraviolet rays of the sun could do such damage, but again, he didn’t dispute the notion.
“Yes,” Logan said. “We have two courses of action left. We can either hunker down in the basement beneath the garage and light this place up with enough packed explosives to turn it into one of the moon’s craters…” He paused to breathe. “Or we can stand and fight. I for one would like to save this place. It stands for a lot more than just our home. It’s a beacon of hope to those who believe in our cause.”
Everyone was gathered around Logan’s desk now, minus the men manning the rooftop defenses. They were listening in on the communications set up between both teams, though. Logan wanted everyone accounted for during the conversation. Their safety was on the line and Logan wanted any and all opinions. Ares was also present, having given up his place behind the .50 cal. He elected to be in the thick-of-it with the rest of the team—SDF and Delta working together against humanity’s greatest enemy.
What could be mankind’s last stand would happen here, in the middle of nowhere, in southern Africa. Not in New York or Washington D.C. Not in London or Moscow or Tokyo—but in the Serengeti. If they didn’t defeat the Nach, it would spread, consuming the continent, killing millions. Then, once Africa was decimated, it wouldn’t take much for one or two of them to make it across the water into Europe and Asia. The Americas were truly the only land that might survive the devastation, but more than half the world’s population would be gone, turned into death itself.