Machines of the Dead aza-1

by David Bernstein

  Kevin was on the verge of passing out when the blows finally stopped. Breathing was impossible and the pain was overwhelming. He thought for sure a few ribs were broken, and maybe some other parts too.

  Halfway to unconsciousness, he heard Smithford talking to Maria. Shaking his head, he looked up and saw the big man on top of her. She was struggling, kicking her legs, but Smithford slapped her and held her down. He was simply too strong.

  Focusing on saving his friend, Kevin pushed himself to his knees, finally able to draw in a small breath. Using the wall, he was able to stand. Smithford was too busy with Maria to notice him. She let out a scream, and yelled, “stop” and “no” and “help” before Smithford punched her in the face, silencing her.

  “That’s better,” he said. “I don’t mind my women a little roughed up.”

  Kevin pulled the knife from his boot, his stomach screaming at him for bending over to get it. He crept up behind Smithford, and using both hands raised the weapon.

  Maria spit in Smithford’s face.

  “Fucking bitch,” he growled, then tore her t-shirt down the middle, exposing her breasts.

  With all he had, Kevin sank the knife into the back of Smithford’s neck, just below the skull. The man let out a small gasp, then collapsed onto Maria. Kevin shoved the man off of her, his body sprawled onto the bed.

  Maria sat up, scooting away from the body, holding her shirt closed with both hands. She was breathing heavy, blood trickling from her nose and mouth.

  “He… he tried to rape me,” she said, staring at the dead form. She looked at Kevin. “You fucking killed him.”

  He nodded. His side was killing him and his face hurt like hell. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. “Now do you believe me?”

  Maria nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. She nodded. “We have to…”

  “To what?” Kevin barked.

  “Tell someone. Report what’s been going on here.”

  “We will, expose Reynolds and the others, but first we have to make it out of here.”

  Maria hopped out of bed, went over to her closet and changed into her black fatigues. She strapped on her gun belt and turned to Kevin.

  Kevin grabbed his own gun from the floor, then Smithford’s, tucking it into his pants at the small of his back.

  “Where to?” Maria asked.

  “We’re meeting Jack and Zaun at the armory.”

  “You better hope they have Reynolds or none of us will be going anywhere.”

  A banging at the door made Kevin and Maria jump.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “Everything all right in there?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

  “I heard screaming.”

  “I was having a nightmare. Sorry if I woke you.”

  “Open up so I can make sure you’re okay.”

  Maria’s nostrils flared as she took a breath. Silently, she mouthed the words “What do we do?”

  “Ask. Who. It. Is,” he replied in a whisper.

  “That you, Clark, wanting to get into my room after hours?” She tried to sound lighthearted, playful.

  “Yeah, it’s Clark. Stop fooling around. You know the protocol. Just open up so I know everything’s okay or I’ll have to call whoever’s on duty.”

  Shocking Kevin, Maria opened the door and put her gun in Jerome Clark’s face. He was wearing shorts and a white t-shirt, and looked as if he had been sleeping.

  “What the hell, Maria?” he asked.

  “Get in here or I swear to god I’ll blow your head off.” She backed up, giving him room to enter. She opened the door a little more, Kevin saw Clark’s eyes move to the bed where Smithford’s body lay-blood covering the man’s back and neck, staining the white sheets crimson-the knife still protruding from the corpse.

  Clark’s eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open. “What the fuck did you guys do?”

  “Get in here,” Maria demanded, talking through clenched teeth.

  “Okay, just calm down,” Clark said, holding his arms out, but before Kevin knew it, the man had bolted from the doorway.

  “Shit,” Maria said, running into the hall. Kevin pulled his sidearm, joining her. She aimed her gun at Clark’s back, but didn’t fire. “Damn it.”

  Kevin watched the man’s form disappear into a room down the hall.

  “You had a shot,” Kevin said.

  “I’m not about to shoot a man in the back who might not be involved in all this.”

  “Don’t you get it?” he asked. “We’re on our own. We killed Smithford. We’re as good as dead down here. You know what happens when a soldier turns on other soldiers. And these guys are nothing more than fucking mercs. All they’ll see are two people getting in the way of them making money. It’s us against them.”

  Maria wiped a hand over her head. She looked on the verge of losing it. “I know. You’re right. I’m having a real hard time absorbing all this. I mean Smithford’s dead, and now Clark’s going to tell the others that we killed him.”

  “Let’s move,” Kevin said. “We have to get to Jack and hope he has Reynolds. It’s the only way we’ll be safe. And don’t you dare hesitate on killing these pricks. They’re the enemy now and they won’t hesitate to kill you.”

  They took off running down the hall when gunshots erupted from behind, Kevin feeling the whoosh of the bullets as they just missed his head. Turning, he saw Clark pointing his gun in their direction. He fired back, hitting Clark twice in the chest, red flowers blooming on his white t-shirt.

  “Drop the weapon!” came a voice from behind.

  Kevin spun around and saw Maria with her arms up. Two guards were standing at the end of the hall, having just come from the stairwell. He didn’t even think about trying to get off a shot-the two M4’s pointing his way ensuring him a quick death. With no other options, he joined Maria and put his hands in the air.

  Chapter 17

  Only a few guards patrolled the bunker’s hallways after 9 p.m. There was no “lights out” rule forbidding Jack from leaving his room whatever time he felt like doing so. If he and Zaun came upon a guard, they would simply say they couldn’t sleep, needing fresh air, so to speak.

  A s it turned out, they didn’t run into anyone, and reached Chambers’ room unimpeded. There were cameras in most of the halls, but that was something neither Jack nor Zaun could do anything about.

  Jack knocked on Chambers’ door, and a few seconds later, the big guy showed himself, wearing a t-shirt and boxers, obviously ready for bed. He eyed both men.

  “What brings you two here at this-” the man’s eye went wide as the steak knife Zaun was holding sunk into his neck.

  Jack stared in disbelief, watching the blade cut across the man’s throat, leaving behind a cavernous wound. Blood gushed, covering Zaun’s arm and Jack’s face and chest. Chambers’ hands shot out, one grabbing Jack, the other Zaun, but the man’s grip was weakening fast, his eyes staring at Jack in astonishment. Zaun kicked him in the stomach, sending him tumbling backward into the room.

  Zaun shot passed Jack into the room, yanking him inside. Jack watched Zaun go over to Chambers as the man thrashed around on the floor, blood covering the room. “Shut the door, Jack,” Zaun said, harshly.

  Jack stood motionless, unable to catch up with what had happened. He could only stare as Zaun leaned over Chambers and plunged the knife’s blade into the man’s chest, stilling him in seconds.

  Turning to look at Jack, Zaun repeated his command to shut the door.

  Shaken from his stupor, Jack reached for the door and closed it.

  “Start looking for-” Zaun stopped mid-sentence and darted over to the nightstand positioned by the bed. Picking up a small piece of rectangular plastic, credit-card-like in appearance, he asked, “Is this it?”

  “I… I. ” Jack’s mind was swirling, unable to stop seeing the image of Chambers’ neck opening up and blood pouring out. He had known the man. Had spoken to him about life. The guy had saved
his and Zaun’s life back in the alley. He began panicking, wondering if they had made a mistake. What if Kevin was wrong about everything? Or crazy?

  Zaun walked up to Jack and slapped him across the face. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “You killed him.”

  “You’re damn right I did. We couldn’t take a chance with this one, Jack. He would’ve smelled something was off. I had to act, get the first kill over with. I’m sorry if I startled you. Go throw up if you need to, but we need to keep moving.”

  Jack stared at Zaun’s blood covered hands, the knife’s blade dripping with red.

  Zaun grabbed Jack’s arms, and looked him in the eyes. “You remember why we’re here? What we have to do in order to get our asses out of here?”

  Jack nodded. “Yeah, just let me get cleaned up.”

  “Make it fast, we have to go.”

  He hurried to Chambers’ bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he felt his stomach churn. His heart was beating fast, too fast. He needed to puke. Leaning over the toilet bowl, he hurled. He felt better. Back at the sink, he washed Chambers’ blood from his hands and face, then ran his jacket under the shower for a minute, getting it as clean as possible.

  “I’m fine now,” he said, walking back into the room.

  “Good,” Zaun said. “I didn’t enjoy killing him. I’d rather have tied the bastard up and left him here, but I didn’t survive all those days in my apartment, for you to risk your life rescuing me, only to be tortured to death. We’re getting out of here, Jack.”

  “Hold on,” Jack said, then walked over to where a jacket was hanging up on a coat rack. Under the garment was a gun harness with a sidearm attached. Removing the piece, Jack saw that it was a Desert Eagle. 44 magnum, a powerful handgun. He ejected the clip, saw that it was loaded, then popped it back in and racked the slide, sending a bullet into the chamber. Taking off his wet jacket, he slid into Chambers’ harness and replaced the gun to the holster, before putting his jacket back on.

  “Jack,” Zaun said, “you going to be able to use that?”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s us or them, right?”

  Zaun smiled. “Right.”

  They left Chambers’ room, heading to Reynolds’ place, when someone yelled from behind.

  Both men turned around and Jack was glad he decided to zip up his coat.

  “Where are you two headed?” the guard asked. Jack recognized the man; name was Jacob, Ron Jacob, but had never spoken to him. The one time Jack did try talking to him, the guy said he was busy and for Jack to move along. Jack thought he was an asshole, but that didn’t mean he deserved to die. Then again, maybe he did. He was a high-ranking guard, always with Chambers and the others.

  The man came closer, an M4 machine gun in his hands, but pointed at the floor. “Is that blood?” the man asked.

  Jack turned to see that Zaun hadn’t cleaned the blood very well from himself, a bit showing on his sleeves and neck. He closed his eyes, furious with himself for not making sure they looked okay. If they made it passed this guard, they would both need to be more aware of such things.

  “I’m hurt,” Zaun said, holding his side.

  The guard looked Zaun up and down. “I’ll alert Doc Fredrich; take you to his office.”

  Jack thought it odd that the man didn’t ask how hurt Zaun was or how Zaun became injured. Maybe he didn’t care or maybe he figured if Zaun was standing, walking, the injury was minor.

  “We can’t let him take us there, Jack,” Zaun whispered as he leaned on his friend’s shoulder, faking a grimace. “You’ve got to take him out.”

  Keeping his right hand on the trigger, the guard reached for his radio with the other.

  Jack pulled the. 44 from his coat and pointed it at the guard. “Don’t,” he said.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” the guard barked.

  “We just want to leave,” Jack said. “Drop the weapon and turn around, hands against the wall.”

  “Fuck you,” the man said, and went to raise his weapon.

  Jack pulled the trigger. The gun erupted, the retort loud in the hallway. A small hole appeared in the man’s forehead before he collapsed backward to the floor.

  “Damn it,” Jack hollered, lowering the weapon.

  Zaun ran over and scooped up the machine gun, then grabbed the dead man’s Taser and sidearm. He tossed the man’s radio to Jack, then the Taser. Jack stuffed both items into his jacket pockets.

  “Can we use these?” Zaun, said, holding up a bunch of zip-ties.

  “We’ll need them for Reynolds.”

  Zaun stuffed the ties into one of his pockets.

  Jack stared at the dead man. He thought he would feel terrible, shaky, but he felt nothing.

  “We have to move, Jack. I’m sure someone heard the shot.”

  They walked quickly down the hall, making sure not to run in case they bumped into another guard. When they reached Reynolds’ door, Zaun stood off to the right of it, hiding the machine gun from view.

  Jack raised his arm to knock when an alarm sounded.

  “Guess someone found the body in the hall,” Zaun said.

  “No,” Jack said, pounding his fist against the door. “Right here.” He pointed up, indicating a small red lens just above the doorframe. Reynolds had a security camera allowing him to see who was outside his door. “He must have seen you with the machine gun and hit the alarm.”

  Jack began kicking the door, trying to break in, but the thing was solid. He needed to destroy the lock. Pulling out the. 44 magnum, he told Zaun to back away, and fired at the mechanism. The bullet turned the cylinder into a twisted mash of metal. Jack began kicking at the door again, the thing loosening up.

  “Security’s been alerted, Jack,” Reynolds said, his voice coming from the small intercom outside the door.

  Zaun joined in as both men kicked at the door until it finally flew inward.

  Gunshots rang out, the bullets whizzing passed Jack’s head.

  Zaun reached around the doorway and fired his machine gun.

  “What are you doing?” Jack asked, incredulously. “We need him alive.”

  “Sorry, it’s just when someone’s shooting at me, I tend to shoot back.”

  More shots came from Reynolds’ room, the bullets ricocheting off the doorframe.

  “Well, at least he’s still alive,” Zaun said.

  “We only want the keycard so we can leave this place,” Jack yelled, lying to Reynolds.

  More shots rang out, hitting the doorframe and sending splinters of wood into the air.

  “We’ve got to go in and get this guy,” Zaun said. “Any minute we could have armed men bearing down on us.”

  “We’re coming in, Reynolds. Throw down your weapon or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

  Jack waited. Nothing happened. No gunshots; no response.

  He bent low, gun at the ready, and peered into the room. Reynolds wasn’t in his line of sight. Inching out a little farther, he was able to scan most of the room, no sign of the man. Reynolds could be in the bathroom or hiding behind the door.

  “Watch my back,” Jack said. “Keep your eyes on the hall that leads to the bathroom.”

  He went low, sliding along the floor into the room and had his gun pointing behind the door in seconds. The area was clear. He got to his feet and saw Zaun aiming his gun toward the bathroom.

  Jack shut the room’s door.

  Looking around, he saw there was no place for Reynolds to have hidden. The faux fireplace blazed away and an empty bottle of brandy was sitting on a small table in front of it.

  Jack went over to the bathroom and kicked in the door, making sure to be out of the line of fire. When nothing happened, he peered into the lavatory and found it empty. Where the hell had Reynolds gone?

  He walked back into the living room portion of the tiny apartment, picked up the empty bottle, and threw it against the wall. The glass shattered into tiny shards.

  “Feel better?” Zaun asked.

&
nbsp; Jack ignored his friend. Reynolds had an escape tunnel leading from the room. It was the only explanation for the man’s disappearance. The guy was probably in another part of the facility by now, arming himself or gathering infantry.

  “He’s gone, Jack. Must’ve had a way out. A secret door or something. I don’t know if you want to try and find it or not, but we have to do something. We’re going to have company real soon. I say we head for his office and hope for the best.”

  Zaun was right, but any hope of escaping just went from good to terrible. Without Reynolds as a hostage, they had no leverage. It would be a number of armed guards against a few fools. It couldn’t end like this. Jack looked around the room, searching for an answer as to the doc’s whereabouts. Then it hit him. He snapped his fingers, catching Zaun’s attention, then pointed to the bookcase.

  Zaun nodded, then raised his weapon.

  “Come out from behind there or my friend is going to start shooting at it. He’s itching to kill someone, especially you. All we want is the keycard so we can get our butts out of here.”

  Zaun fired a shot high, the bullet dislodging a book, sending its torn remains to the floor.

  The bookcase clicked, then slid sideways, revealing Reynolds, standing in a small room. A Glock was resting on the floor at his feet.

  “Kick the gun over here,” Jack said, and Reynolds did. He picked it up, and placed it into a pocket.

  “Now get out of there,” Jack ordered, keeping his gun aimed at the man.

  “You’re crazy, Jack,” Reynolds said. “After everything I did for you; gave you. And this is how you repay me?”

  “Cut the bullshit. We know what you’ve been up to; how you’re using people, killing them.”

  “They were homeless drug addicts. They would’ve died on the streets or hurt someone. They were doing nothing for society. I gave them a way to contribute.”

  Zaun stepped forward and knocked the butt of his gun into the man’s head. Reynolds staggered back, holding a hand to his temple. Blood trickled from between his fingers.

  “I say we shoot the bastard right here.” Zaun pressed the muzzle of his weapon to the man’s head.

  Hands up and out, the doc backed up a step. “Don’t do anything stupid. You’re under a lot of stress. You’ve been cooped up to long and aren’t thinking clearly. And Jack, you’ve suffered a great deal. Stop this madness before someone gets hurt.”