The Last Line Series One

by David Elias Jenkins

  Cursing, he retrained his carbine on the attackers and slowly backed up into the chopper, firing as he went.

  “Cockpit’s compromised boys, we ain’t safe here no more!”

  Usher gave a final burst of fire out into the mist and backed up next to the rest of Empire One. They were all huddled in the centre of the wreckage, back to back giving 360 degree coverage.

  “Isaac, we good to go?”

  “I’ve cleared a passage but it won’t last, we need to go now.”

  “Ok go go!”

  As a single unit Empire One scrambled off the helicopter wreckage and out into the mist.

  Carrion attacked either side of them and they fired as they went. With Santiago supporting Isaac and Usher and Stromberg carrying the wounded Empire Two soldier it was slow, desperate going. Even the least injured of them could not move fast, with multiple bruises and sprains slowing them down.

  Jeter provided rear support, slinging his bolt action sniper rifle and calmly firing his suppressed MP7 into the pursuing undead as he walked backwards. His blonde hair was slick with sweat across his forehead but other than that the marksman looked like he was just having a fun day on the firing range. Usher had never seen the man lose his cool.

  The team limped and struggled across the soft carpet of pine needles, unsure of their direction and unable to see more than ten feet ahead of them. The undead Carrion loomed out of the fog and often only became visible when they were within a couple of metres, so each soldier needed lightning reflexes to get a headshot in before they were overwhelmed.

  Usher glanced back to ensure Jeter was ok and saw that the helicopter they had just left was swarming with carrion, crawling all over it like cockroaches and tearing off pieces of the dead pilot and co-pilot. A huddle of them squatted on the deck and lapped up the blood that had fallen from the wounded. Their grey tongues flicked across the jagged metal, cutting themselves to shreds in order to get at the rivulets of blood, seemingly without a hint of pain.

  Usher’s lip curled in revulsion at the creatures.

  An enemy with no fear of death, no sense of pain, no concept of mercy. And there could be hundreds of them right beneath our feet. A minefield of zombies. Marvellous. Is this only the beginning of what the Necromancer has to throw at us?

  The team pressed on, conserving ammunition as much as they could and only firing when they knew they could get a clean kill. Most of the mindless enemies had become engrossed in the gory feast left within the wreckage and the undead in their path began to thin.

  Santiago quickly unclipped his magazine and slotted a new one.

  “Last one boss. I got twenty rounds left and ten in my Sig.”

  Brock nodded. “Same here old friend. Didn’t expect an all-out assault so quick on landing. I’m on my last clip too.”

  Stromberg smiled his big shit-eating grin despite himself.

  “Oh I like that big fella. Our landing. So what’s the last ten minutes been? A slight altercation with the locals?”

  Brock cast him a withering glare then returned the smile. “You sunburnt little Hestkuk. On your left…”

  Stromberg spun and instinctively fired his MP7 into the face of a Carrion that was reaching out for him. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Aww, thanks mate.”

  “Vær så god, my old venn.”

  Suddenly three Carrion leapt out of the mist towards the stretcher bearers, drawn by the blood soaked clothing of the injured man. Usher’s hands were full carrying the handles so he shot a kick out, shattering the knee of the creature, which lurched forward with its jaws snapping. Usher grabbed it around the throat to keep the gnashing teeth away from him but overbalanced causing them to pile into the stretcher and tumble to the ground. Another leapt from the mist and grasped onto Santiago, who dropped his pistol and went down. Usher instinctively trapped the creature in a jujitsu guard position, wrapping his legs around it as he unsheathed his Soulblade. When the Carrion craned its neck forward with fangs dripping, Usher clamped the blade between its teeth and sliced the creatures head off above the jaw. Usher threw it off and spun up onto his knees to face the other ones. He cursed in dismay as he saw that one of the creature’s mouths was locked onto the injured soldier’s throat and was pulling away wet strips of flesh.

  Santiago was wrestling with another of the creatures as it slashed at him with its long dirty claws. He trapped the creatures arm and threw it across the ground. The limb ripped from its socket and Santiago smashed it across the creature’s face before picking up his Sig and putting a bullet through its skull.

  Usher dragged the feasting Carrion’s head back by its lank hair and hacked it off it three savage strokes. He threw the body aside and rushed to aid the stricken soldier but it was obviously too late. The man was gargling and fighting for breath, his limbs spasming as the blood poured out of the horrible wound in his throat. Usher tried to stem the flow but the man suddenly jerked once and then was still.

  The rest of the team huddled together and took up defensive positions, waiting for the next attack. Usher cursed and closed the soldier’s eyes. He looked up at the two remaining members of Empire Two.

  “He’s gone lads. I got his call sign, but I’m sorry I didn’t get his real name before we left.”

  One of the other soldiers crouched down and touched his friend’s forehead.

  “Michael. Michael Peterson. We can’t leave him here.”

  Usher hated the idea of ever leaving a fallen comrade behind, it just wasn’t done.

  “It grates me too, but in a few hours this whole place is gonna be totally incinerated. There will be nothing left of him for these bastards to desecrate.”

  The soldier frowned and shook his head but then gathered himself and nodded to Usher.

  “Ok Major. I guess you’re in charge of us now too. I hate to leave a friend behind but I’ll explain it to his folks. I’m Collins, runt over there is Jackson.”

  The shorter soldier wiped a hand across his filthy face and nodded at the team.

  Usher stood up and extended a hand to Santiago. “You ok?”

  “Sure boss, just rolling with the locals.”

  “Ok, it disgusts me to leave any of our dead here but we need to go, or we’re all dead. Let’s keep moving.”

  The team said their silent goodbyes then resumed their slow steady struggle across the clearing. As they progressed they realized that the wilderness had become eerily silent, all sound swallowed up by the fog.

  Usher raised a hand on point and the team stopped behind him.

  “Fog’s clearer up here, we must be getting to higher ground. Think I see a road.”

  The team advanced slowly up a long wooded slope. They used the same tactic as if travelling through a minefield. Usher took the lead and carefully assessed the ground for the tell-tale mounds of Carrion-traps. The rest followed his footfalls perfectly.

  Jeter, who had the sharpest eyes amongst them, spoke in his clipped metallic tone.

  “The Major is correct, I see the road markings. If I recall the map correctly it should be the main road into Carnival.”

  Ariel took out his laminated map and studied it for a few moments. “I think it is, there should be a bridge a mile or two down this road that leads straight into town. If there are any survivors they’ll be holed up there. The Debruler mansion is about a mile beyond that in the woods.”

  Usher pointed ahead.

  “I don’t think we even need the map Ariel. Look.”

  The team looked up at the signpost appearing out of the fog.

  Carnival 1 mile.

  “Seems like poor old Jim Taylor managed to get us a lot closer than we thought.”

  I’ll be raising a glass to you if I make it through this Jim.

  Jeter suddenly pointed at the ground. “Look, over there. It’s a body, and it’s military.”

  Usher noticed that by the side of the road a man was slumped face down. As they got closer he could see that the figure was in full assault
gear exactly like them. The smashed helmet lay a few feet away against a tree. A shock of short red hair flourished on his scalp.

  “No fucking way.”

  Usher knelt down beside the man and quickly checked for obvious injuries that would prohibit moving the man. When he found none he gently turned him over and looked into a familiar face. Jackson and Collins rushed forward and propped him up.

  Usher turned to his team in disbelief.

  “It’s Cavell.”

  17.

  The ginger haired team Commander Cavell sat with his back propped up against a silvery fir tree, adjusting a blood soaked bandage that Stromberg had wound around his head.

  He was bleary eyed and concussed but lucid. The rag tag remains of Empire One had taken up defensive positions in a loose circle in the roadside clearing next to the sign post for Carnival.

  They trained their weapons out into the mist, tensing at every forest sound that drifted through the red gloom in their direction. They were all bleeding, bruised and low on ammunition. With no respite from danger, adrenal fatigue had kicked in, and now real fear was starting to creep through their bones. They were trained to control fear, all of them, but the more tired they got, the harder it became to suppress panic.

  Usher and Ariel knelt before the injured leader of Empire Two. Usher placed a hand on his shoulder and Cavell’s eyes looked up. They took a moment to focus on Usher.

  “Cavell. How you feeling?”

  Cavell sat up stiffly against the tree as if seeing a ghost. His eyes focused inwards and he started to panic.

  “The helo! The engines failed, fog threw everything off kilter. My men. Major Usher where is my team? Where’s my fucking team?”

  Usher raised a placatory hand.

  “Gonna need you to calm down and stay quiet, we’re not out of danger yet Cavell. The things that attacked us, they’re activated by sound. From now on this mission is silent running.”

  Cavell looked confused for a moment. “Sound? What sound?”

  Ariel knelt next to him and was polishing his cracked spectacles with a corner of his scarf. “Sound, vibrations, footfalls, gunfire, that kind of thing. Our helicopters fell into what was effectively an undead mine field Major Cavell. Our rather noisy entrance to this theatre of battle activated an entire batch of them it seems. Not our lucky day.”

  Usher sighed and shook his head. “Is it ever? But we’ve come out a lot of unlucky days in one piece. More or less. This one ends too if we just dig in.”

  Usher glanced over at Isaac, who had scavenged a sturdy looking y-shaped branch to use as a makeshift crutch. He was clearly in a whole lot of pain but Usher knew he had intentionally self-administered a lower dose of morphine than was stipulated so he could remain operationally effective. Isaac gritted his teeth and gave Usher a pained nod from across the clearing. Usher responded in kind then turned to face Cavell.

  “Most of your boys were killed in the crash or taken out by those…those…”

  “Carrion.” Ariel chipped in.

  “Thanks Ariel, those Carrion, before they could get out. We got two of your team here that fought damn hard against those things and we’re glad to have them with us. I’m truly sorry about the rest, Major. Their deaths won’t go unpaid for, I promise you that.”

  Ariel reached out and placed a hand on Cavell’s brow, raised it a little to see into his bleary eye. “What do you remember Major? You seem to have been thrown a fair way from the crash site. Wonder that you’re alive to be honest.”

  Thrown. Or ran maybe, thought Usher.

  Cavell furrowed his bandaged brow and struggled to find his words.

  “I…remember the chopper going down…I fell before it hit the ground…managed to stumble a few yards, get off a couple of rounds at those things in the mist…then I must’ve lost consciousness. I…how are you all still alive?”

  Cavell’s surviving team member, Collins, who was crouched on the outer perimeter with his weapon scanning out into the mist, called over.

  “Because they fought like bad mother fuckers, boss. Never seen anything like it.”

  Cavell looked at the survivors and shook his head. “No, we had the same training, the same preparation, my team were hand-picked by me.”

  Jackson, the other surviving Empire Two soldier shrugged and grinned as he shouldered his carbine. “Trust me boss, these boys are what you call old hands at monster killing. Never seen reaction like that under fire. You never heard the stories about Major Usher and his team? We just got upgraded to big boy’s class.”

  Cavell’s face started to redden and he seemed belligerent despite his injuries. “That’s about enough hero worship from you soldier. It was pure blind luck that…”

  Usher interjected. “Look we’ve just been sent on a few more rodeos than some, nothing more than that. Most of the time it is blind luck if a bullet hits you or the next guy. Besides, we’re not exactly in fighting shape. We’re all badly compromised.”

  Cavell looked around at the exhausted soldiers, their nervous eyes straining out into the woods.

  “If these men hadn’t insisted on getting so close to the perimeter we may not have gone down. We could be anywhere. Could be a hundred miles from the drop zone by now.”

  A few metres away from the tree, Charlie knelt down at the roadside. He gently tapped the metal signpost to Carnival with the barrel of his gun.

  “Read the sign, you ginger tit.”

  Cavell looked indignantly across at the solid cockney operator, who in turn kept his eyes front and shot him a wanker gesture. Usher patted Cavell on the shoulder and stood up slowly. “If you’re feeling ready to walk, gather your kit and stand-off with the remains of your team. We’re bugging out of here in sixty seconds.”

  Cavell seemed about to protest then his shoulders sagged and he rubbed his bandaged head and nodded.

  Usher crouched in the centre of the circle where the perimeter defence could all hear him, but he spoke only as loudly as he dared.

  “Ok listen up. Get ready to move and shave as much kit as you can. We go as light and mobile as our injuries allow. It’s gonna be slow but we can’t risk waking up another minefield of those Carrion, we simply don’t have the ammo to fight them off and gunfire is the last thing we need right now, liable to bring the whole haunted fucking forest down on us.”

  Santiago turned his head and raised a sculpted Hispanic eyebrow.

  “We going old school, boss?”

  Usher drew the Soulblade from his thigh sheath and held up its glimmering razor sharp edge.

  “That we are, operator Santiago.”

  The rest of Empire one silently slung their carbines tight across their chests and drew their blades. Collins and Jackson stared at them quizzically. The shorter stockier soldier Jackson shook his head and reluctantly slung his firearm.

  “You boys actually fight with your Soulblade?”

  Jeter’s piercing blue eyes fixed on the soldier and asked in clipped German tones. “Of course, my friend. What do you use it for?”

  Jackson flushed. “Um, thus far, building shelters mainly. I seen all the tactical videos about how you can take out most things close up with ‘em, but I never figured anyone actually did it in the field.”

  Jeter flashed him a wolf’s grin. “Oh yes. It’s a much more intimate experience.”

  Stromberg slapped Jeter on the back as he passed and winked at the Empire Two soldiers. “When he says intimate, boys, he means erotic. Blade work gives Roy Batty here a big Replicant boner.”

  Usher frowned at the two men. “It’s not called a Soulblade for nothing. This knife is sacred to your regiment, a symbol of who we are, like a Samurai’s katana. Who told you it was just for making shelters?”

  Collins could not meet his team leader’s eye as he slung his own carbine and drew his knife. “It was the er... It was Major Cavell sir. He thinks it’s more of a ceremonial item sir.”

  Charlie snorted. “Think you’re being led by a bit of a ceremonial item,
mate. And by that I mean a big rubber cock, if you missed the euphemism.”

  Cavell scowled at his two remaining men and defiantly refused to draw his blade. Instead he maintained a sweaty grip on his service pistol. Usher stared at him and spoke in flat tones.

  “Major Cavell, if you discharge that firearm and bring a host of those predators down on us, my first act is going to be to throw you to them as a diversionary tactic.”

  Cavell’s face reddened. “That is absurd, Usher, to try to fight those things with…”

  Isaac limped past and grimaced into a pained grin. “It’s not a figure of speech, Major. He will pick you up and throw you like a chew toy.”

  Usher continued to meet his gaze until Cavell holstered his pistol then awkwardly drew his Soulblade. “All right then. Lead the way. Major.”

  The team gathered their kit, leaving anything that wasn’t necessary and moving as silently as they could. As the giant Scandinavian Brock passed Jackson and Collins, he was unwrapping something from a blanket slung across his back. Jackson took a step back.

  “Jesus man, is that a battle axe? Knives not butch enough for ya big fella?”

  Brock ran a finger down the edge of the bearded Dane-axe and his big square jaw broke into a grin beneath his blonde beard. “This is Freya. Taken a good few monster heads in her time. Think she’s gonna have plenty of work in the next few hours.”

  Brock moved past them to the vanguard and as a unit they all started down the road towards Carnival.

  Empire One advanced as tactically as they could towards the town, but they were in poor shape and progress was slow. Taking point was Usher, his eyes straining out into the gloom as the road vanished into obscurity about ten feet ahead of them. To Usher’s left was Jeter because he had the sharpest eyes and to his right was Ariel to advise on him on any new strangeness they might encounter. Usher was proud at how well the young scientist was holding up. He had always been a clever boffin when it came to research and finding new ways to kill monsters but usually from the safety of a library or laboratory. He had never been a field operative until getting caught up in the mission to stop a team of supernatural berserkers a year back. Since then his wiry little frame had toughened up a lot and he had proven himself an invaluable member of the team. Glancing across at his bruised and bloody face, Usher thought if it hadn’t been for his cracked spectacles the occult expert could have almost passed for a full Empire Team operator.