Forsaken (The Forgotten Book 2)

by M. R. Forbes

  Hayden looked down at the dead Scrapper. He believed he would be rewarded for killing himself? For an educated man, he sure was an idiot.

  Hayden bent down and picked up his gun, putting it back on his hip before turning to Jake.

  “Give me a hand, will you? I need to find out what happened to my wife.”

  39

  THE TANK RUMBLED across the stained and dirty landscape. Each passing second brought another loud snap or crunch from beneath its treads, as they overtook another corpse and crushed it beneath them.

  Sheriff Hayden Duke stood on top of the vehicle, looking out at the swath of destruction around them, holding onto the arm of the Butcher for balance. There were hundreds of dead trife out here. Thousands. More confusing, they didn’t all look the same. Some were smaller and more humanoid, like the ones he had encountered at Jake’s farm. The others were larger and stronger in appearance, more like the creature that had saved him from Pig, in payment for protecting its nest.

  The evolution of the creatures meant something. The fact that some were the same in the closed microcosm of the Pilgrim and out here in the world - that meant something, too. He didn’t know what. He didn’t know if it even mattered. His fight was with King.

  The trife could wait.

  The demons weren’t the only dead things out here. He could make out the soldiers intermingled with them, especially as they passed through a small dip where the landscape rose on either side of them. It was clear the Scrappers had encountered the trife here. There were abandoned vehicles nearby, their drivers often slumped over the wheel or back against the seat, their throats neatly cut by razor-sharp claws. More Scrappers were on the ground, some covered in blood, some sliced in multiple places. The sight was horrible. The smell was worse.

  Hayden’s body shook the entire time, as they picked their way slowly across the battlefield. His eyes scanned back and forth, searching for any sign of Natalia.

  The Butcher moved suddenly, pulling its arm away from him and wordlessly jumping off the tank. Hayden immediately leaned over the hatch, calling down to Jake. “Tell Chains to stop!”

  The tank paused a moment later. Hayden jumped off, following the Butcher. He tried to keep himself calm, reminding himself the instruction he had given it, to search for a female with dark hair, was vague and would likely lead to a few false positives. Just because it had spotted someone matching the description didn’t mean it was her.

  The roid stepped heavily through the debris, not minding its feet as they came down on trife limbs, crushing them without hesitation. It came to a stop in front of a corpse with a large gash along the side, pointing down at it.

  Hayden leaned over the woman. It wasn’t Natalia. A Scrapper. She was seventeen at best. Maybe younger. What was she doing out here? Why had King sent her into this kind of danger?

  Not that he was shocked. King didn’t care who lived or died, as long as he got what he wanted.

  The Butcher started back toward the tank. Hayden remained close to it, feeling safe under its protection.

  He came to a stop again when he saw the coat.

  It was beneath a trife, dirty and bloody, and hardly any of the white cloth was still white. The trife resting above it had a knife sticking out of its throat. Hayden leaned over it, a sudden panic washing through him, chilling him to the core. Ghost had been out here, in the middle of the trife. That confirmed Natalia had been part of the convoy that was attacked. The Courier was supposed to be protecting her.

  Did that mean?

  He stopped himself. It didn’t mean she was dead. Ghost’s coat was here, but his corpse wasn’t. He had probably gotten away.

  Hayden pulled the knife from the trife’s neck, slipping it beneath the belt on his hip. He looked back at the tank, finding the Butcher had continued without him and was already climbing back on board.

  He ran to catch up to it, noticing as he scaled the side of the vehicle that a small light had gone on at the base of the Butcher’s skull.

  He took the control transmitter from his pocket. A matching light had activated on it, too. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he had spent enough time around Natalia to guess.

  Low battery.

  The timing wasn’t the best. Hayden climbed into the tank. Jake was up front with Chains, talking to her about something. They both looked back at him as he approached.

  “I found Ghost’s coat outside,” he said. “And this.” He showed them the knife.

  “That’s his, all right,” Jake said. “He has them custom forged. No body?”

  “No.”

  Jake looked relieved. “She’s still out there, Sheriff.”

  “Pozz. I know. She has to be.” He paused, looking at the display. The cameras could see better in the fading light than he could. He noticed a structure up ahead. “Is that the bunker?”

  “It must be,” Chains said. “There’s nothing else out here.”

  “Our Butcher’s batteries are low. Do you think we could charge them in there?”

  “Sheriff, we don’t know how many Scrappers are inside,” Jake said.

  “Nope,” Hayden replied. “And? What if Natalia’s still in there? What if we can refuel this thing?”

  Jake’s face flushed. “Sorry. You’re right. I’m with you.”

  “Chains?”

  “You want to crash the Scrappers’ party? I’m totally in.”

  “Good.” Hayden took a few steps back, picking up the uniform they had removed from Commander Ales before they had thrown his corpse out into the wilderness. “I knew there was a reason we held onto this. It should fit you perfect, Jake.”

  “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking, Sheriff?” Jake said.

  “I thought my holding up the uniform made that obvious. Do you have a better idea?”

  “No. I can do it.”

  “Of course you can,” Chains said. “We’ve got your back.”

  Jake reached for the clasps to his body armor. “Then let’s go knock on that massive door.”

  40

  AS IT TURNED OUT, they didn’t have to knock.

  The large door to the bunker started sliding open the moment the tank got close to it, offering them security within. Chains kept the vehicle in motion, rolling slowly toward the opening door, keeping her eyes on the displays and watching for signs of trouble.

  Hayden didn’t expect any. The Scrappers thought they were Scrappers. And why wouldn’t they? Who else came driving up to the bunker in a tank?

  “How do I look?” Jake asked, adjusting the sleeves on Ales’ uniform. “I feel naked without the armor.”

  “You look fine,” Hayden said. “Here’s the transmitter.” He handed the device to the Borger. “You know what to do.”

  Jake nodded. They had gone over the plan on the way.

  The tank entered the garage. Hayden scanned it on the displays, searching for the car that had taken Natalia away. There were only three other vehicles in the bunker with them. A large truck and two of the big-wheeled Enforcer cars. His heart sank a little at the sight. Based on the configuration, it was unlikely Natalia was still here. Not that he had really expected she would be. They were at least three days behind the convoy.

  A pair of Scrappers moved out in front of the cameras, waving their arms to direct the vehicle. The garage wasn’t large, especially for a tank, and the fit was relatively tight. They guided Chains forward and then to the left, parking her between the truck and one of the cars, facing the wall.

  “I don’t know how to put this thing in reverse,” Chains said when they came to a stop.

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out when the time comes,” Hayden replied. “Jake, you’re up.”

  “Wish me luck,” Jake said, putting his hands on the ladder leading out.

  “Good luck,” Chains said, smiling and giving him a thumbs up.

  “Good luck,” Hayden said. “I know you can do it.”

  Jake started climbing, opening the hatch and then vanishing thro
ugh it.

  “I’m Commander Jackson,” Jake said, his voice quaking slightly. “Who’s in charge here?”

  “I am,” one of the Scrappers said. “Sergeant Nil.” He paused. “We weren’t expecting anyone tonight, Commander. What happened to the rest of your convoy?”

  “What do you think happened to my face, Sergeant?” Jake said. “We were assaulted on the way up from Haven. King ordered us north to Ports to reinforce the base, on account of the increased trife activity.”

  “Your face got bruised inside a tank?” the Sergeant said. “You must be the clumsiest Commander in the grepping army.” He started to laugh. Hayden could hear other Scrappers laughing with him.

  Hayden winced. This was the part where Jake should draw a gun on the Sergeant, and chew him out keep him in line.

  “Are you questioning me, Sergeant?” Jake shouted. It didn’t come off as very commanding.

  “I don’t like the way this is going,” Chains said. “Your Deputy is too nice for this.”

  “Come on, Jake,” Hayden said.

  “No, sir,” the Sergeant replied. “I understand completely if you don’t want to admit you hit your face on a seat. Or maybe your girl beats you.”

  The Scrappers laughed harder.

  “You will respect me,” Jake said. “Or you’ll be dinner tonight.”

  “Is that a threat?” Sergeant Nil said. “Because from where I’m standing, there are six of us and one of you.”

  “I’m a Commander in the Scrapper Militia. You’ll respect me because I outrank you.”

  “Respect is earned, Commander. Maybe where you’re posted, your kiddies know you. But we don’t know you for shit. Hell, you aren’t even supposed to be here. You could be King’s royal ass-wiper for all we know.”

  There was a long silence. Jake had no idea what to do.

  “You heard him, Sheriff,” Chains said. “There are only six of them.”

  Hayden reached to his left, picking up one of the USMC rifles they had claimed. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “King sent me north to Ports,” Jake said. “I stopped here to refuel the tank and recharge my Butcher. Will you accommodate me, or do I have to kill you?”

  The Scrappers stopped laughing. Hayden reached the ladder and started to climb. He could sense the sudden tension in the air.

  “Why don’t you come down here, and kill me?” the Sergeant said.

  Jake glanced down, into the hatch. He saw Hayden coming up. He shook his head. He didn’t want help with this.

  “Fine,” he said, hopping down from the tank. “You ever duel before, Sergeant?”

  The Scrappers laughed.

  “Hell yeah,” Nil said. “That what you want, Commander? Because if you want to die, that’s fine by me.”

  “Shut up and make some space,” Jake said.

  “Sheriff,” Chains said, coming up behind Hayden. “You can’t let him do this. The Scrappers duel each other all the grepping time, and if you’re still here, it means you’ve never lost.”

  “He saw me coming,” Hayden said. “It was his choice. He’s a good shot.”

  “That won’t mean anything if he isn’t a quick draw.”

  Hayden knew it, but what was he supposed to do? Jake knew he was there. He had declined the help.

  “He feels like he has something to prove,” Chains said. “After Wiz attacked us. After he got knocked out. He’s a nice guy, Sheriff. This place doesn’t have enough nice guys.”

  “I can’t interfere,” Hayden said. “It’s dishonest. He made the challenge; he has to live with the consequences.”

  He didn’t like it, but he knew how it worked from the movies stored on the PASS.

  That didn’t stop him from climbing further up the ladder and peeking out over the top, to where Jake was positioning himself ahead of the garage door.

  Nil was at the other end. He was a younger man, dressed in Scrapper robes and thick, brown fatigues. His head was bald, his hair replaced by a large eagle tattoo that covered his entire crown. He stared down at Jake with malice, his hand hovering over the revolver at his hip.

  One of the Scrappers moved out to the side, closer to the tank. The others were arranged nearby, away from the line of fire. Every one of them looked amused, certain that Nil was going to come away victorious.

  The two men faced one another. Jake’s hand shifted, closer to his gun. He had stuck with a revolver even after they had taken the Marine weapons from the Pilgrim, more comfortable and more experienced with the vagaries of the less precisely crafted firearms.

  Each second hung in the air, tense and thick. The Scrapper near the tank turned and started to climb, heading for the hatch. Hayden saw him coming, quickly lowering the rifle and squeezing his mechanical hand into a fist. The claws sprung out, and he waited just below the line of sight.

  Whatever the Scrapper was doing, he had taken away Hayden’s ability to see the outcome of the fight.

  Each heartbeat felt like an eternity. Each tick a lifetime. Everything slowed down. The Scrapper’s arm came over the hatch, pointing down, gun in hand. His head appeared after, looking in for a target. He saw Hayden looking back at him, and his eyes grew in surprise. He turned his head, as though to warn the others, or to say something to someone. Hayden lunged up toward him, leading with his mechanical hand.

  Outside the tank, a shot was fired.

  Hayden held the ladder with his free hand, plunging the claws into the Scrapper’s chest, pushing upward and knocking the man back. The momentum carried his body off the claws and sent him rolling down the side of the vehicle.

  Somebody shouted.

  Hayden kept climbing, desperate to see the outcome of the duel. Desperate to find Jake still standing. He turned his head as he cleared the hatch and then covered his face with his metal hand as the bullets started to come, forcing him to duck back down.

  Time regained itself.

  “Should I find reverse?” Chains shouted.

  “Did you see what happened?” Hayden asked.

  “No. The cameras back there aren’t working, remember?”

  “Damn it.” He grabbed the rifle again. “Wait here.”

  “Sheriff, you can’t go-”

  He didn’t hear her. He scrambled out of the tank, rolling to the opposite side as bullets pinged off the metal around him, more than one putting a hole in his coat and striking the armor beneath it.

  He set the weapon on the metal, sweeping the display across the scene. He didn’t wait to find a specific target. As soon as a body was visible that wasn’t Jake, he squeezed the trigger, sending multiple rounds into it.

  Three Scrappers fell before the others tried to run, heading for a doorway he imagined led deeper into the base. He didn’t want to cut them down with their backs to him. He had a sense of what was right that was hard to deny. But if they got inside, could they call for help? Could they better arm and armor themselves? Did they have a Butcher of their own?

  He couldn’t risk it.

  He adjusted his aim, shooting at their backs, knocking them down one by one.

  The last one made it to the door. He slammed his shoulder into it, shoving it open, desperate to escape.

  He looked back as he leaned against the frame, adjusting his path to take him down the steps.

  Hayden painted the target.

  His whole body froze.

  The face beneath the reticle was Sergeant Nil’s.

  The cold sting of the truth slammed him in the gut.

  It didn’t stop him from pulling the trigger.

  41

  THE RIFLE CLICKED, but didn’t fire. Sergeant Nil glared up at where he was perched, a smirk appearing on his scarred face before he slammed the stairwell door closed behind him and locked it into place.

  Hayden stared at the spot for a few seconds, trying the rifle a few more times. It was empty. Damn it.

  He got to his feet, jumping off the tank and rushing where Jake was lying on the ground. He didn’t see any blood. Not ri
ght away.

  He fell to his knees when he reached the Borger. His face was tight. His stomach clenched.

  Jake had a single, perfectly aimed hole in his forehead and only a trickle of blood coming out of it. His eyes were open, and they shifted back and forth, trying to focus but unable to do so. His chest rose and fell ever so gently, proving he was still alive.

  If you could call it that.

  “Jake, can you hear me?” Hayden said. “Jake.”

  He heard footsteps rushing his way, and he turned his head as Chains met him there.

  “Oh. Geez. Oh. Sheriff. Grepping hell.”

  She knelt beside him, putting a soft hand on Jake’s face. His head turned slightly, pressing harder into it. She looked over at Hayden.

  “What are we going to do?”

  Jake’s eyes turned back toward him, showing he understood their words.

  “Medical in Metro can’t fix anything like this,” Hayden said sadly. “Is there any medicine out here that can?”

  “Not that I’ve ever heard of,” Chains said, tears in her eyes. “This sucks.”

  Hayden looked down at Jake. He knew what had to be done. There wasn’t another option. “Jake.” He paused. “Can you blink?”

  The eyes stared up at him. They didn’t blink.

  “I’ll make it quick, okay? You won’t feel anything. I just. I just want to say thank you. For saving my life. For giving me a chance to find Natalia. For giving me this.” He held up his arm. “You were a good man, Jake. You and your father. I’ll make things right for you. The way they should have been. You and your Dad.”

  Jake’s eyes didn’t move. The only reason Hayden knew he was still alive was the light pulsing in his neck.

  Chains dropped down, putting her face over Jake’s. She lowered it until her lips were pressing against his.

  Hayden used the distraction, putting the replacement hand on the side of Jake’s head. He breathed in, and then contracted the hand, the motion sending the blades shooting out through the bone and into the brain.