by M. R. Forbes
They passed through the town, taking a much more open approach to Ports than they had the night before. Ghost seemed confident that the route was clear, though that didn’t mean he let his guard down. He was intense in his focus because he knew he had to be.
Two hours of walking found them closing in on the outskirts of the city, where the remains of larger buildings started to fill in the world around them, intermingled with random vegetation. The ground was wet from rain, the broken cement at their feet holding intermittent puddles that Ghost navigated them around, to keep the splashing from drawing attention. The air was cool, and she felt it more through the tears in her armor, biting at her wound beneath its bandage. She accepted the stinging pain as penance.
Ghost put his hand up, motioning her to wait against the ragged wall of a damaged building. Then he sprinted across the street, vanishing into the doorway of a building on the other side. She could see him climb a set of exposed stairs to the next level, and then crouch in the corner, the barrel of the rifle resting on a break in the cement. She leaned out from her spot to look in the same direction, ducking back behind the wall when she spotted a group of trife. There had to be a hundred of them or more, hissing at one another in an indecipherable conversation.
She looked back at Ghost. He had his hand up toward her, telling her to wait.
She heard a soft whine in the distance. She peeked around the corner again. The trife had heard it, too. They raised their heads in unison, turning to the east before splitting apart, racing to the buildings on either side and scaling them with ease.
What was going on?
She found Ghost again. The barrel of the N80 had vanished from the wall. He was tucked back and out of sight. Or had he abandoned her?
The whine didn’t get much louder, but soon after a vehicle appeared in the streets. It reminded her of the car Ghost had pulled her into, only it was open on top, and had a pair of guns mounted to makeshift turrets. Two Scrappers were manning them, while a third drove the car. It slowed to a stop where the trife had been a minute before.
The soldiers at the turrets turned left and right, looking for the trife, swiveling their guns in the same direction. The weapons were crude, eight barrels sticking out from the main cylinder, and what looked like a hand crank dropping down and to the left, a feed of bullets vanishing into the vehicle.
She heard a high pitched noise that seemed to come from all around her. An instant later, the trife launched their attack.
They poured from their hiding places, rushing toward the car, spreading apart and taking different routes to attack it. The Scrapper facing her smiled, rotating the gun on its mount and turning the crank.
Slugs began to launch from the weapon, one after another after another, tearing through the first line of trife coming their direction. The same thing happened on the other side, cutting down a dozen of the creatures within seconds.
The trife spread apart more, making a wide line, the second row getting closer before it too went down in a hail of projectiles, the Scrapper assault too much for them to take.
Something cast a shadow over her then, and she looked up. More trife were crossing between buildings over her head, leaping and spreading their arms, revealing what looked like fleshy wings beneath. They didn’t notice her standing there, or if they did, they ignored her. They hit the stable part of the debris and vaulted again, a line of them ready to attack the car from the sky.
The Scrappers saw them coming, turning and trying to swivel their guns upward to attack. Only the mounts didn’t adjust high enough, the rounds spitting below the creatures.
Natalia heard a loud crack nearby and caught the muzzle flash from the N80 out of the corner of her eye. One of the airborne trife tumbled from the sky, crashing to the ground and rolling to a stop. A fresh series of shots followed, sending more of the demons to the earth.
Ghost hit a lot of them, but not all of them. The driver of the car decided to move, the car lurching forward while the shooters held onto their guns to stay upright.
Three of the trife reached out, their claws scraping the armor plating of the car and sliding off, sending them rolling on the ground, bones breaking from the force. One of them managed to find purchase, springing from the back toward one of the soldiers, claws extended.
Another crack and its head exploded sideways, the momentum carrying its body away as the car turned and accelerated up the street toward them.
The guns adjusted to the rear, firing back at the trife, who were increasing in number, drawn in by the noise. Natalia looked back up to Ghost, finding him standing in the open, waving toward the car.
It came to a hard stop beside the building. Natalia didn’t wait for Ghost to urge her to it, breaking from her hiding spot and running toward the vehicle. The driver looked her way, not reacting much to her presence other than to give a curt nod as she reached the car and vaulted over the door.
Ghost joined her there an instant later, jumping down from his perch into the vehicle between the two gunners. The noise of the firing weapons was deafening, the back seat of the converted vehicle littered with both spent and unused shells.
“You’re wasting a lot of ammo!” Ghost shouted at the men, at the same time he brought the N80 back to his shoulder and resumed firing single rounds, at the same time the car accelerated away again.
They kept shooting for a few more seconds until the speed of the car was outpacing the speed of the trife. They bounced through roughly cleared streets, slowing to corner and making their way deeper inside, leaving the creatures behind.
Once they were clear, one of the shooters dropped the weapon, letting it hang from its mount. She turned to Ghost, offering him a big smile. “Hey baby,” she said. “I heard you were on your way with a new bitch.” She glanced over at Natalia. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen. “So,” she said, still staring at her. “Did you screw her yet?”
Ghost shifted his eyes toward Natalia, offering her an expression that froze her to the bone. It wasn’t the look of a man falling in love with her.
It was the look of a predator.
The biggest and the baddest.
“You know me,” he replied. “I’d say she’s been completely screwed.”
It took every bit of her will for her to keep herself from falling apart.
How could she have been so fucking stupid?
What the hell had she done?
36
THE CAR ENTERED the Scrapper base through a heavily reinforced gate that led into an underground garage. It had been a short ride from the scene of the trife attack to the location, the vehicle passing through heavier devastation before entering what Ghost had called “The Clean Zone” because it hadn’t been bombarded or napalmed.
That didn’t make it clean. The buildings were still grimy and old, overgrown and breaking down from the passage of time. But they were mostly intact, standing ten to twenty stories high. Some of them even had a few window panes left.
Natalia was sitting in the passenger seat, facing forward. She hadn’t been able to look at Ghost since he had revealed his true nature to her, and shown her that he had known what her game was the entire time. She was an idiot to have ever thought she could get through to him. Not out here, where attachment was a word and not a deed. Where close bonds were a detriment, not a strength. Where there were only predators and prey.
She had let herself be one of the prey. She had set herself up for it. He had never been interested in her beyond the conquest. Beyond the dominion. He had used kindness to keep her under control, to earn her trust against the dangers outside of their circle. He had done it convincingly enough that she had forgotten he was a Scrapper. King’s son. A monster, like the rest of them.
Like everything else in this fucking world.
Her heart ached to be back in Metro. To be back behind the sealed doors. It wasn’t an easy life, but it was better than being out here. At least there was still a human civilization on the Inside. There was not
hing civilized about any of this.
The car eased through the gate, passing between guards stationed on either side. They saluted Ghost as they entered, thumb and two fingers in the shape of a gun, pressed over their hearts. He saluted them back, his smile huge as he reveled in their adoration.
Natalia would have never expected such a greeting, especially considering the way Grimly had treated him. The way the Oversergeant had nearly killed him. She had guessed the Courier was a relative outsider, and the things he had said to her had only reinforced it.
She had guessed wrong. Completely wrong.
They drove down one level, out into a garage that was already home to nearly two dozen other vehicles. Cars with gatling guns like the one she was riding in, as well as supply trucks and a couple of old USMC armored transports. There were crates scattered around the vehicles, boxes of guns and ammunition and other supplies. What they were carrying in their packs seemed a pittance compared to what they already had.
She blanched when she saw what else they had in the garage. Corpses. Trife corpses, at least fifty of them in a pile. Two Scrappers were standing beside it, taking them out and cutting off the skin with knives, stripping them down to claim their meat. They looked up at the car as it passed, and then returned to their work.
At least she didn’t see the same operation with human bodies.
“What the hell happened out there?” the female shooter asked. “Where’s Grimly and the rest of the convoy?”
“Grep Grimly,” Ghost said. “That asshole tried to take what was mine.” He motioned his head toward Natalia. “Then he tried to grepping kill me. He damn near broke my ribs before I stuck him and his goons good.”
He didn’t mention that she had saved his life, changing the facts to make himself look stronger.
“The convoy got attacked on the way up, before we reached the bunker,” he continued. “Two competing groups of trife. One of the groups, the trife were bigger. Stronger.”
“And now they’re grepping flying,” the other shooter said. “I ain’t never seen that shit before.”
“Grimly kicked me off the transport,” Ghost said. “Grepping coward. Right in the back. He left me out there for dead. He forgot who I am.”
“Ghost,” the girl said. “God of Death.”
Natalia’s skin crawled again, hearing the way the Scrapper referred to him. She believed his godly claims.
“Corvan, take our guest to her quarters,” Ghost said. “It’s on level nine, right above the server room.”
“Yes, sir,” the other gunner said.
Ghost looked at her and smiled again. “And make sure you disarm her first. She isn’t afraid to use that thing.”
Natalia still had the pistol in her hand, though she had forgotten about it in her shock. Not that she could have used it unless she wanted to kill herself. As upset as she was, she wasn’t ready for that.
She started raising it, to point it at Ghost. Corvan’s hand came down, grabbing the barrel and pulling it from her grip.
“I’ll take that,” he said.
“Liv, why don’t you go and find your sister?” Ghost said to the other gunner. “I haven’t had a bath in ages, and I could use a little extra attention.”
The girl smiled. “Of course. We’d be happy to help you with that.”
She jumped out of the car, looking back at him once as she hurried away.
Corvan climbed over the side of the car and then opened the passenger door for Natalia. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly.
She started to climb out, her whole body numb. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She swung her feet out before freezing, looking back at Ghost.
“One way or another, I’m going to find a way to kill you, you son of a bitch,” she said.
Ghost smiled. “That’s one of the things I love about you, Natalia. Your tenacity. Your passion.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You have a choice now. Be a part of the team. A valuable part of the team, and you’ll be rewarded as such. We don’t have to be enemies. We can be more than friends. I truly do like you, Natalia. But you need to learn important lessons about the real world. About your real future. The sooner you learn, the better off we’ll all be. You have potential. Don’t waste it.”
He waved his hand, dismissing her. Corvan grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the car and leading her away. She could feel the eyes of the other Scrappers on her as they crossed the garage, heading toward a stairwell.
She had done her best to hold onto something, some reason to have hope despite her situation. Despite Hayden’s death.
Now that hope was slipping away.
37
CORVAN LED HER TO A LIFT, which carried her fifteen floors down beneath the five levels of the garage, deep below the Earth where both trife and bombs couldn’t reach. He didn’t speak to her. He didn’t even look at her. He acted like if he did he would wind up doing something he would regret. Something Ghost would make him pay for.
They stopped at the floor one up from the bottom, the lift opening up into a long corridor that wrapped around the shaft and spread out in every direction. They took the northern fork to a wing marked as “barracks,” which turned out to be a cluster of thirty small rooms organized around a central common area, where tables and couches that must have been centuries old were organized for both recreation and communication. They had held up well to the passing of time, the only indication of their age a slight smell that rose from the fibers.
Corvan led her to one of the rooms. Six of the doors were closed, and she assumed that meant there were six other Engineers inside with her. Not Engineers from starships like the Pilgrim, but whatever passed for it in today’s world. People who had learned only from manuals and books, or who were skilled at tinkering and reverse-engineering. Smart survivors with an aptitude for machines, not people who had gone to school, taken classes, mentored under a senior Engineer, passed countless grueling exams, and then worked their way up to Lead with time, experience, and skill.
There was only one of her, maybe in the whole world. At least for as long as the colonists of the Pilgrim remained locked inside the Pilgrim. King thought enough of this place to risk her life, and his son’s life, to get her here. Whatever information was hidden in those black boxes, he wanted it that badly.
The other doors were open, and she could see immediately that they were all identical. Corvan gave her a quick tour, entering the room and pointing.
“There’s a bathroom back there. The shower might not work, maybe you can fix it. The toilet only has enough pressure to flush some of the time, so it might be better to shit into a napkin and toss it in the trash. Work uniforms are in there if you want one. You can sleep on the cot, eat and work at the desk. If you need anything else, there’s a comm system on the wall here.” He tapped a plastic square near the door. “Just ask for it, and it’ll probably be brought to you.”
Then he stepped out of the room.
“I’m going to lock you in for now. You’ll get some food soon. Try to relax and get adjusted. Nobody’s going to hurt you down here. Not with you under Ghost’s protection.”
He turned to leave.
“Corvan,” she said.
He looked back. “Yeah? What?”
“Thank you.”
The Scrapper looked confused by the kindness. He shrugged and closed the door. She heard it lock a moment later.
She paced for a minute, trying to calm her mind. She had made a fool of herself, thinking she could turn the Courier against King. She had been naive to the point it was embarrassing. He had used her. Or maybe he had just let her try to use him without revealing he knew what she was doing until he had gotten what he wanted. It wasn’t about feelings or even sex. It was about domination. Conquest. Control.
It made everything worse.
And now he wanted her to fix the mainframe for him? Why should she? What was her incentive? She couldn’t get him to help her kill King. She couldn’t touch the leader of th
e Scrappers from down here. Could she get out? How? There were at least a hundred of the assholes between her door and the gate to the outside, and who knew how many trife waiting in the city.
There was no way out. No escape. She had tried. Futilely, maybe, but at least she had tried.
She had also failed.
She moved to the cot and sat down on the edge, burying her head in her hands. She started to cry. She wanted to be stronger than that, but her strength had fled with her hope. She missed Hayden. She missed the Pilgrim. She missed the simplicity of the life she had before. It was measured and consistent, and it was a lot of work, but at least everyone was working together, not fighting one another or struggling to survive against monsters both human and inhuman.
She wasn’t going to help them. She wasn’t going to help King bring his version of rule over the survivors of this apocalypse.
If she were dead, at least she would be in the same state as Hayden.
She stood up, walking to the small closet and opening it, searching for something she could use to harm herself. There was nothing in it save for a single white lab coat, still clean and pure after all of these years. She took it out, held it up. Tears burned her eyes again. She turned around, looking for something she could drape it over. Maybe she could hang herself?
The strength to do that fled her. She collapsed to the floor, the sobs coming again. How the hell had she wound up here? Why couldn’t they have just left the fucking planet like they were supposed to?
It took a few minutes for her to calm again. She stopped crying, picking herself up and putting on the lab coat. She settled onto the cot and closed her eyes. She didn’t fall asleep. Instead, she thought of Hayden. His face. His smile. His laugh. His awkwardness the day they met. The day he was elected Sheriff. The pride on his face.
Some time passed. The door to the room clicked open. Her eyes opened with it. She turned her head as Ghost entered, carrying a plate of vegetables.