by S. A. Lusher
The fighting had died away now. Allan looked around furiously, rushing forward and peering through the nearest open bay door. Beyond it was the immense, open space of a hangar, complete with all the usual suspects like toolkits, cargo crates and vehicles. Opposite the first door was another, also open, this was giving a view out onto a sun-drenched landing pad beyond. Something like dark hope surged in Allan's chest as he spied movement on the landing pad. He began rushing through the hangar, towards the exterior.
The killer was ahead, though he was only visible for a moment. The hulking figure had just finished ascending the back ramp of a cargo freighter occupying the landing pad and had disappeared into the darkness of the rear bay.
“There he is!” Allan screamed, scrambling forward.
He could hear the others behind him. Johnson was saying something, and so was Redford, but he ignored them both, his boots pounding the landing pad, the quality of that sound changing to a dull metallic thud as he hit the back ramp of the vessel. Allan raced up it and came into the bay, which was cavernous and empty save for a few vehicles secured at the far end.. He turned around briefly and spied the others.
“What are we doing?!” Johnson cried.
Before Allan could answer, the engines began coming to life. Allan moved over to a control panel beside the rear cargo ramp and hit a button. It began to fold closed.
“We're going after him,” he replied firmly, then turned and began walking deeper into the bay.
“This is insane!” Johnson cried.
Allan ignored him, stumbling slightly as the engines finished activating and the ship rose swiftly into the air. He kept going, fighting against gravity, until he had reached the door at the front of the bay. He opened it and found himself in a long corridor. It stretched away from him, cast in dim lighting. There were doors along the left and right hand sides of the hallway, but he ignored them. The single door at the opposite end beckoned to him.
The bridge.
He began stalking the length of the corridor, weapon at ready. Already, something like a plan was forming in his mind. He reached the door to the bridge and stopped, heart racing, adrenaline pumping. The others crowded in behind him.
“What are we doing!?” Johnson whispered furiously.
“Taking this ship down,” Allan replied. “I'm going to head in there. We send the ship into a nosedive, then get to the crash room, it's right there,” he pointed to one of the doors that led to a room meant to serve as protection if the ship was going down if the escape pods couldn't be reached, “and ride it out.”
“He already survived a crash!” Johnson snapped.
“It's our only means right now! We're here on this ship and we have to, at the very least, slow him down,” Allan replied. Johnson opened his mouth to reply but Allan cut him off. “No, listen, I'm bringing this ship down and that's final. Go wait in the crash room if you won't help.”
Johnson stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide and wild with fury and terror, and he then he turned abruptly around and disappeared through the door Allan had indicated. Allan turned and glanced at Lucy and Redford.
“I'm in,” Redford said.
“You're insane,” Lucy replied, then turned and joined Johnson.
“Fine. Come on, let's do this,” Allan said, turning back to the bridge door.
He reached forward, and hesitated. A part of his mind knew that this was absolutely insane. If he went in there, he would probably die. The chances of even succeeding in sending the ship into a nosedive were very slim, let alone incapacitating or ending the killer. He realized he didn't care. It didn't make any difference.
It's not like he had anything left to live for anyway.
Allan hit the button.
The door slid open. The killer stood at the controls, working them. Beyond the front windows they could see the clear blue sky. The killer seemed not to have noticed them. Allan glanced briefly at Redford, but the man seemed consumed by anger, staring directly ahead. He raised his weapon, a rifle he must have grabbed from the starport, and opened fire before Allan could say anything. The bullets pinged off the killer's broad back, doing no damage, but served to get his attention. He turned, spied the two men intruding on his bridge and began walking.
“Come and get it you fuck!” Redford screamed, continuing to fire.
The killer seemed to be focused on him. Allan took the opening that presented and raced past the killer, dodging around him and hurrying up to the main terminal. Redford kept up the rate of fire, both from his rifle and his mouth. He ranted and raved, shrieking at the killer, raw emotion cracking his voice. Allan's hands flew over the controls, hit the override and changing the course. A thought flickered through his mind: the notion to see where the hell the killer was going, but there was no time and he abandoned the notion.
The ship abruptly shifted course and began heading towards the ground, a few hundred meters below them.
Allan turned and began running towards the exit, knowing he needed to get to the crash room. The killer had reached Redford. One massive, dark-clad armor shot out, grabbed the arm holding the rifle at the bicep and pulled.
Redford screamed as his arm came off in a spray of blood. The killer dropped the arm, reached up and grabbed the man's neck. Allan knew what would come next. He took the opportunity and ran by them, shutting and locking the door behind him, then raced down the corridor to the crash room. He opened it, spied Lucy and Johnson already locked into the protective chairs that lined the interior walls of the room.
He had just enough time to take a step, then the ship crashed.
* * * * *
“Is he dead?”
“I can't tell. He's in that fucking suit...”
“If he's dead, can we just go home?”
“Give it a rest already.”
“What happened to the other guy?”
“He's dead,” Allan said.
He stared up at the uncertain faces of Lucy and Johnson and sat up. They back up, giving him some room, as he climbed slowly to his feet. Several things hurt, his head most of all, and he seemed certain that he was bleeding from somewhere.
“How long have I been out?” Allan asked.
“About twenty minutes,” Johnson said.
“Shit...at least we're still alive. Any sign from the killer?”
“No, nothing. We haven't heard any movement but...we haven't really left the room, either,” Lucy replied.
“Why not!?”
“Because there might be a fucking unstoppable killing machine out there, you asshole!” Lucy snapped.
Allan sighed, turned and walked over to the door. He opened it up and peered out into the corridor beyond. The ship was tilted slightly at an awkward angle and the lights were flickering, those that were still functional. The door to the bridge was still closed. Allan hurried up to it and opened it up. Slowly, it slid into its small bay in the wall, revealing an empty room. Well, Allan looked down, empty save for Redford's remains.
“Jesus,” Johnson whispered from behind him.
The front windows were broken out. Allan rushed up to them and stared into the wastelands beyond. Very distantly, he thought he could make out a dark shape, becoming smaller. Allan thought for a moment, something not adding up. Without a word, he turned and left the bridge. The others followed as he hurried down the corridor and opened up the door at the back. In the cargo bay, he spied the vehicles he'd seen earlier.
“Why didn't he take one of these?” he murmured.
“Maybe they don't work? No power?” Lucy suggested.
Allan moved up to the nearest one, the only one that had remained in its moorings and thus the only one that had survived undamaged, and climbed into the driver's seat. It was a simple, topless model jeep, the same version as the one they'd left back at the starport. He turned over the engine and heard it kick to life.
“Seems fine to me, go lower the back ramp,” Allan said, turning the engine off and hopping back out. Lucy moved to comply.
<
br /> “What are we doing now? Please tell me we're evacing,” Johnson said.
“Don't you get tired of whining?” Allan replied as he began detaching the straps and bars that held the vehicle in place.
“Not even close. Not if my life is on the line and there's no good reason,” Johnson replied.
Allan sighed explosively. “That thing has already killed dozens of people. We need to find some way to stop it. It's our duty.”
“To who!?” Johnson cried.
“To anyone in it's path!”
“You're fucking nuts. Crazy. And I mean that. I think you've actually lost it. We have no plan, no real way to put a stop to this thing. And you want us to just keep flying blindly into it. It's pure random luck we've survived this long.”
Allan ignored him, slipping back into the driver's seat after finishing releasing the jeep. He turned it back on, listening to the sound of the cargo ramp lowering. He fired up the navigational database and studied it briefly.
When he saw what was up ahead, a genuine smile creased his face.
“I've got a plan,” he said. “Come on, mount up, we're going ahead.”
Chapter 07
–Desperate Measures–
“You're going to do what?!” Johnson screamed.
Allan watched the dot on the horizon slowly grow closer. Beyond it, he could see the outline of the structure they were heading for, also growing. All around them, the wastelands sped by at dangerous speeds. Allan pushed the pedal a little harder.
“The plan could work,” Lucy admitted reluctantly.
“It will work,” Allan replied firmly. “No way he could survive that.”
“Okay, let me rectify that statement: we could survive the plan.”
“We will. It'll be fine.”
“Can you just let me out here,” Johnson asked.
“I'm not slowing down. You could jump, if you wanted,” Allan replied.
“God, you're an asshole,” Johnson muttered.
They kept driving. After a moment, Lucy spoke up.
“I think something's wrong with the...what did you call him? The killer?” Allan nodded. “Yeah, I think something's wrong.”
“Well no fucking shit!” Johnson shrieked.
“No, I mean beyond that. He had to have seen the vehicles on his way in, and he had plenty of time to come take this one. It obviously works, it survived. So why didn't he? There was absolutely no good reason not to and several to take it.”
Allan thought about all his encounters with the killer so far. “We know literally nothing about this guy besides the fact that he's now apparently moving in one direction, he likes to kill and, for some reason, he has access to this remarkable technology.”
“He does have the ability to operate vehicles,” Lucy pointed out.
“Yeah, there is that. Maybe he's cracked? Maybe he's kind of stupid? I mean, it's possible. Maybe he's insane, beyond the whole murdering everyone thing?”
“Yeah, he's insane, all right...oh fuck, we're coming up on him,” Johnson said.
They all fell silent. The dark dot was much closer and larger now. Allan half expected to see the killer running, but he was walking with great strides through the hinterlands of baked dirt. Allan was tempted to just hit the bastard, but he knew he'd survive it and the jeep would probably be ruined in the process. So, instead, he just swerved around the hulking figure. The killer looked at them as they passed, and even reached out and tried to grab the jeep, but his armored fingers missed the frame of the jeep by mere inches.
Allan glanced in the rearview. The killer loomed but was rapidly disappearing behind them, his pace never changing.
“Fuck, that guy is creepy,” he muttered.
Ahead of them was the power plant.
* * * * *
Allan braked hard and killed the engine as he came up to the gate surrounding the single, massive structure of the power plant.
“Are you sure you can do this?” he asked, looking at Lucy.
“Believe it or not, yes. I may be a comms specialist but I pulled a year at a power plant after I graduated. I learn quickly,” she replied.
“This is fucking insane,” Johnson replied.
“And the shelter will protect us?” Allan pressed as he stepped out.
“Yes. They've all been tested. It will protect us,” Lucy replied.
“I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you all to leave, this is a restricted area-” the security officer said as he stepped out of the gatehouse behind the perimeter fence. He hesitated when he actually took in the bloodied and battered nature of the three people he was addressing. “Who are you?” he asked after a moment.
“My name is Allan Gray. I'm a Sergeant in the Investigations Division. On authority of SI, I hereby command you to do let us in and take me to the man in the charge,” Allan replied with as much authority as he could muster.
“I...” the guard hesitated.
“Do you see that?” Allan asked, pointing back the way they had come at the far-off black dot that was slowly growing closer.
“...yes? What is that? Is that a person?”
“That is a maniac who has somehow gotten his hands on some top-of-the-line military armor. It's bulletproof and magnifies his strength beyond reason. So far, he's survived two crashes apparently completely unaffected. He's killed over two dozen people and he doesn't look like he's slowing down anytime soon. I need to stop him. Now take me to your fucking boss,” Allan snapped.
The guard hesitated a little bit more, then opened the fence. “Come on.”
He led them onto the grounds of the power plant. The guard hesitated, staring at the killer in the distance, and then shut and locked the chainlink gate.
Allan laughed. “That won't even come close to stopping him.”
“Come on,” the guard repeated, leading them towards the four-story structure ahead of them. The three of them followed, coming into an almost barren lobby. In lieu of a circular desk with that most buildings that needed lobbies came equipped with, the power plant sported a security station. The room had been split in half by a wall that was mostly bulletproof glass. Behind it, a pair of security guards sat, studying a bank of monitors.
Allan and the others approached the glass wall.
“What the fuck is going on?” one of the guards asked, her voice coming through a speaker built into the glass. Allan knew that her stern demeanor and the extra security might seem strange to a civilian, but he also knew that power plants were common targets for insurgents and mercenary factions looking to make a quick cred due to the fact that the power cores used in larger, more powerful plants made very nice bombs.
Allan quickly updated them on the situation. The pair of guards behind the glass exchanged glances, then the woman who seemed to be in charge reached out and grabbed a radio off the wall. “Wait one,” she said.
Feeling the press of time, Allan turned and looked out of the windows built into the front doors. He could see the killer making slow, relentless progress towards them. How much time did they have? Would this plan actually work?
“The shift leader is coming,” the woman said.
A few agonizing moments later, an even sterner looking woman with short black hair and cold eyes appeared. Allan spent the next sixty seconds detailing the plan he had come up with to her, and appraising her of the situation.
“And you have the authority to do this?” she asked when he was finished.
“Yes. Under command directive Double A Five,” Allan replied quickly, using the directive that he actually had no real authority to use. It was an emergency directive that those in the higher echelons of command that ran the SI Branch could use in times of emergency. Technically speaking, a Sergeant wasn't even close to the proper rank to use it, but there were times when no one in Command could be reached and those on the ground had to act.
“Very well,” the woman replied. Her demeanor seemed to suggest that she'd served in either the Marines or SI before. She turned t
o the security room. “Give the order to evacuate,” she said. Glancing back at Allan, she asked, “how long can you give us?”
“Five minutes,” he replied. “Probably less.”
The woman frowned and turned back to the desk. “Change that to a meltdown evacuation order.”
* * * * *
Allan stood on the second story of the power plant and stared out the front windows, into the wastelands. Behind him, Johnson fidgeted and Lucy worked the controls as quickly as she could. Allan could see the killer. He was much, much closer now, just a few dozen meters short of the gate. Everyone had evacuated, heading for the nearest source of civilization: a small colony about five miles from the plant.
“How much longer?” Allan asked.
“Hush,” Lucy hissed, wholly focused on her work.
Allan left her to it and then glanced at Johnson. “Why didn't you leave when you had the chance? You could have easily gone with them,” he asked.
Johnson laughed bitterly. “I feel like I've got a better chance here at ground zero than hoping to outrun the blast. They build those bunkers to last.”
“They'll be fine,” Allan said. “The actual blast is extremely powerful but contained to about half a mile. They should easily be able to make it beyond that. Hell, they probably already have. You would have been fine.”
“Whatever,” Johnson muttered miserably.
Allan wasn't sure if the man had stayed behind because he'd been paralyzed by his sudden ability to do exactly what he'd wanted to from the beginning, or because, despite all his bitching and moaning, he did want to put a stop to this psycho killer.
“Done,” Lucy said suddenly. “The reactor will meltdown in one hundred and twenty seconds,” she reported.