The Apocalypse Five (Archive of the Five Book 1)

by Stacey Rourke

  Chest swelling with purpose, Houston’s nostrils flared. “I have to tell the Floaters. They have to know the truth of who we are and what we’ve done.”

  He was skirting around her when Detroit caught his arm and held him back. “That, is a monumentally bad idea.”

  “They may string us up for it, but it’s a deserved punishment.” Tone dropping to a raspy growl, Houston snarled, “I’m prepared to pay for my sins.”

  “And what about the baby hidden below decks?” Detroit easily matched his heat and intensity. “They throw us overboard and she goes right after us. We can’t undo what we did, Houston. But, we can do our damnedest to make life better for these people now. The Fortress has been taking from them for decades. It’s time we help them take back. All of that starts … with Adalyn.”

  “I can’t do nothing.” Houston’s stare beseeched her, pleading for relief from the yoke forced upon him. “This ugly truth will fester inside of me. I can already feel it rotting.”

  Releasing his hands, Detroit took a step back. “Give me your guns. All of them. Anything you have on you.”

  Houston jerked, failing to see the correlation between his sentiment and her request.

  Jabbing a hand forward, she insisted, “Anything you can fire. Let’s have it.”

  Reluctantly, he pulled two pistols from his belt and placed them in her outstretched palms. Then he ducked out from under the strap of the rifle strung across his chest and handed that over.

  After hooking the rifle strap over her shoulder, Detroit tucked the handguns into her belt. “You’re the sharpest shooter we have. And you know I’m not stroking your ego saying that. You don’t miss. Which is why it will be that much more meaningful to use it as your vow. Promise yourself you won’t fire another weapon until it’s at the sons of bitches that actually deserve it. Washington and his crew played us like marionette puppets. Therefore, a shot at one of them is the next one you take. No exceptions. No immunities.”

  Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Houston stared off at the starry night sky. “Diplomatic solutions for all situations, until I can face the men who don’t deserve that consideration,” he breathed the words, as if trying on the conditions of the sentiment. “Then, I deliver the bloody justice they deserve.”

  “Are those terms agreeable?”

  Managing a jerk of his chin was the closest Houston came to confirmation. “When that day comes, I pray the grenade launcher is close by.”

  Detroit closed her eyes, nodding along like he was preaching gospel. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. After firing that baby I fell in love. I don’t plan on being more than arm’s distance away from it ever again.”

  Features softening, Houston peered down at the light dusting of freckles along the rise of Detroit’s cheekbones. “You do realize this is why you’re the team leader, don’t you?”

  Heat crept up her neck to her earlobes, darkening her caramel complexion to a bold russet. “My love affair with dangerous weaponry? Seems a questionable logic on the part of the choosing committee.”

  The side of his hand brushed her shoulder as he caught a lock of her hair and gave it a gentle tug. “If that was the case, Juneau would be lead. No, it had to be you because you have the ability to follow the route of logic. Meanwhile, the rest of us poor morons are slaves to our emotions.”

  While his sentiment was sweet, it echoed Juneau’s toy-soldier speech enough to sting. “Not always,” she muttered. “I wasn’t acting on sound logic in your quarters.”

  Head tilted to the side, Houston’s brow creased in mock confusion. “My quarters? What happened there? I think I need a reminder.”

  Feeling free for the first time from watchful stares and a prying public, Detroit took a brazen step closer. She stretched up on tiptoe, letting the warmth of his breath tingle over her cheek. Her head tipped, bottom lip grazing over his with a euphoric rush.

  A rush rudely interrupted by the metal hatch door squawking open behind them.

  “So, it’s true?” Juneau asked as she stepped out onto the deck, her tone filled with heartache.

  Whipping around, Detroit leapt as far away from Houston as possible. “What? No. Huh?” she stammered, ever the eloquent linguist.

  “Well put,” Houston mumbled out of the corner of his mouth before turning his full attention to their third-wheel. “What’s true, June-bug?”

  Chin quivering, Juneau’s red-rimmed eyes filled with tears. “The dam. I blew up their water supply. That was me during some stupid showy stunt, not a humanoid.”

  Closing her hand around the rusted railing, Detroit squeezed until the metal twanged in protest. That was the only way she could fix on a neutral mask, in spite of her brewing wrath at those who caused such sorrow in the soul of her young teammate. “You did what you were taught and ordered. All of us did. We had to know way of knowing—”

  “Shut up,” Houston interrupted, raising one hand. “Can you hear that?”

  In the distance, a faint whirring drew closer.

  ‘What is that?’ Detroit mouthed.

  Houston shook his head. He pointed to his chest, then up the narrow staircase to the ship’s next level.

  A nod from his team leader, and he darted off.

  “Hey, guys, our hosts might find this mass exodus a bit suspicious,” Auggie boomed, stomping out to join them. “I mean, I doubt they’ll put things together that we’ve been the plague against mankind for years. But, manners wise alone, it’s rude.”

  Stabbing one finger to her lips to silence him, Juneau jabbed another at her ear.

  His shift into battle mode was immediate. Hand closing around the stair rail, Auggie cleared it with one agile leap. Determined to join Houston’s search of the skies, he made it halfway up the stairs when a flash of white caught his eye. Squinting into the darkness, he locked on the inbound device. “UAS! Get inside!”

  At the mention of the drone, the team dove for cover. Houston leapt into the abandoned captain’s quarters. The other three scrambled for the door. Finding it good and stuck, Detroit planted her boot against the wall and threw her weight into prying it open. It budged with an ear-piercing screech, sliding open at a snail’s pace.

  A sudden bite of pain in her neck locked Juneau’s muscles up tight. Shoulders hunched, she choked out one word. “Detroit?”

  Oblivious to Juneau’s plight, Detroit’s tendons bulged as she pulled with all her might. “Almost … got … it.”

  Auggie glanced back in time to see Juneau’s eyes roll back as she sank to the ground.

  “Orion’s Belt! Detroit!” Auggie dove under her, catching her head in his cradled arms. Foam bubbled from Juneau’s lips, her body shaking with violent convulsions.

  “Juneau!” Repelling off the wall, Detroit skidded to her teammate’s side and did a quick assessment of the situation. A silver dart jutted from Juneau’s jugular, pulsing with an ominous red tracker light. Hand hovering over it, Detroit chewed on her lip and contemplated plucking it out. “Ugh! We need Reno! I don’t know shit about potential poisons. Will it make things better or worse if I tug it out?”

  Heavy footfalls clomped overhead. Houston slammed down the stairs in a series of metallic clangs. “It’s gone! Everyone oka—” The question died on his lips the second he saw Juneau’s splayed form.

  Auggie slapped Detroit’s hands away, pinched the dart between his thumb and index finger, and pushed it to the side to evaluate how deep it was implanted. Crackling from the tip, tendrils of sparking blue wires snaked into Juneau’s flesh to embed themselves in Juneau’s spinal column. Rolling and waving they planted themselves further still.

  “Let go of it,” Houston commanded, taking a knee beside him. “You pull that out and you’ll leave her paralyzed or dead.”

  Her convulsions easing, Juneau settled still as the dead. The faint rise and fall of her chest acted as her only sign of life.

  Wriggling deeper still, the wires hissed with malicious intent. Once they were free from the dart, it fell
to the floor with a hollow thunk.

  Two fingers on Juneau’s wrist, Detroit felt for a pulse. “Pulse is elevated, but I’ll take that over the alternative. June, can you hear me?”

  Eyes sealed shut, Juneau’s mouth swung open. Static, like a poor old-time radio signal, crackled from her throat.

  Houston dug into his utility pack, retrieving an adrenaline capsule. Peeling off the wrapper, he prepped to crack it. “Juneau, I need signs of life from you. Or I gotta dose you.”

  At the sound of the rattling paper, Juneau’s eyes snapped open. While she rose to a sitting position, her posture stayed board straight. Slow and deliberate, her head turned to her team.

  Rocking back on his heels, Auggie’s hands dangled between his thighs. “So … you’re good then? In a creepy sort of way?”

  Sparks of blue fizzled at Juneau’s temples, webbing out in a digital veil that covered her face.

  “I’m going to take that as a no.” Detroit reached out, her fingers prickling over the cobalt cocoon. Sucking in a shocked breath, she pulled her hand back as the pixelated face of Chancellor Washington formed within the hologram.

  On their feet in an instant, Detroit, Auggie, and Houston gaped down in a mixture of horror and confusion.

  While Juneau’s mouth moved, it was Washington’s sinister voice that seeped out. “Well, if it isn’t the former Apocalypse Five. Surely, you’re not surprised I found you?”

  “What the hell did you do to her, you son of a bitch?” Houston lunged for the ghostly image, only to be halted by Detroit’s outstretched arm.

  “Oh, we’ll get to that soon enough,” Washington purred with a villainous smile. “First, I have to ask why you are all surprised to see me? You had to know I would come for you.”

  “You set us up and let us escape!” Auggie roared. Hands clenched in tight fists, his fingernails sliced half moons into his palms. “We’re banished, with no way back. And, guess what? We’re fine with that! Why can’t you just leave us the hell alone?”

  The hologram flickered, then steadied. “Because, a team of trained killers took a life and then went rogue. In the eyes of all those aboard the AT-1-NS, nothing could be more terrifying. The people on our starship won’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’re out there.”

  “To hell with the AT-1-NS, and to hell you!” Auggie screamed, his face morphing from red to purple.

  “Detroit, is everything okay?” Tatum peeked her head around the door that now hung open. One glimpse of Juneau and a shocked gasp escaped her.

  “Isn’t this interesting.” Legs curling under her, Juneau rose to her feet. Washington stared past the team, weighing the merit of the newcomer. “It seems the Floaters have taken to harboring fugitives. A most egregious crime that cannot go unpunished. Unless, of course, you can confirm that you’re being held against your will?”

  Fires of rebellion flaring in her eyes, Tatum’s mouth opened.

  Before she could utter one word that could jeopardize all their camp had built, Detroit stepped in front of her and cut her off. “We stormed this vessel and are currently holding the entire camp at gunpoint. Reno is below deck right now, making sure none of their people try anything moronically heroic.”

  A slick smile seeped across Washington’s digital features, his eyes narrowing with devilish delight. “What a villainous answer. To ensure no one gets hurt, I must encourage you to turn yourselves in and face your sentencing.”

  Folding his arms over his chest, Houston’s pecs flexed. “You’re up there. We’re down here. Seems to me you’re going to have to catch us, if you can.”

  For a beat Washington’s hologram image stuttered with waves of static. “I have n-n-no intention of giving chase. That would be a waste of precious resources. Instead, you’re going to march yourselves to the Fortress within forty-eight hours and turn yourselves in.”

  “Why, in the name of Jupiter’s fifty-three moons, would we do that?” Detroit snarled, assuming a challenging wide-legged stance.

  “Because,” Washington moved Juneau’s arm in a series of robotic jerks—raised to shoulder height, she bent her elbow and touched the dart’s contact point, “the technology I injected into your friend does far more than make her my puppet. An explosive device is now embedded in her brain stem. If she fails to cross the threshold of the Fortress within the allotted time, it will blow. I have seen how the five of you are together. I d-d-doubt that you’d be willing to sacrifice her life to save yourselves.”

  “You unimaginable bastard,” Tatum breathed.

  “Did you say something, Floater?” Washington’s eyebrow twitched with interest. “Are you casting your lot in with these outlaws?”

  “Leave her out of this.” Houston glared down his nose at the flickering hologram. “How do we know you aren’t bluffing?”

  “I suppose you don’t.” Stretching Juneau’s arm out, Washington extended her index finger. With a high-pitched whine, a blue laser beam swelled from the tip of her digit. “Let me offer a bit of proof.

  “I’m sure you recall from your training that within the forearm is what’s called the brachial artery.” Washington drew the laser down Juneau’s forearm with surgical precision, slicing a shallow cut … at first. A second swipe, in the exact same spot, laid the skin open farther still. Pearls of blood burst free, trailing down her elbow and dripping to the floor. “If I nick that artery, it could take days for her to bleed to death. But,” a third swipe filleted the tissue, opening it in a wide maw of gore, “if severed completely, your friend would bleed out in minutes without treatment. If you would like to tend to her in a quick, efficient manner, I demand your complete cooperation.”

  “Let her go!” Detroit launched forward, ready to pin Juneau’s arms to her sides if necessary.

  A robotic swoop of Juneau’s arm, positioned the laser at her own throat.

  “Ah-ah-ah, team leader,” Washington warned, “I will paint this deck with her blood if you don’t step back in line with the others.” When Detroit didn’t instantly obey, he let the laser sizzle over the delicate flesh under Juneau’s chin. “I won’t repeat myself, Team Leader Detroit. Stand down, at once.”

  Whatever action Detroit was thinking of taking, whatever violent display played out behind her eyes, was halted by a hand encircling her wrist. Bandaged arm hugged tight to his chest by a cloth sling, Reno had appeared with desperation clouding his stare. “Dee, please. We have to get her help.”

  Swallowing down the vile taste of submission, Detroit stepped back into line.

  “There’s a good girl.” Washington slathered on the condescension with each word. Her obedience was rewarded by him lowering the laser back to Juneau’s wrist. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes.”

  This time, when the sizzling beam met flesh, it wasn’t in a simple slice. Washington laid it against the wound, letting it burn through layer after layer of exposed muscle and tendons. Juneau’s arm began to shake, the stomach churning smell of burnt flesh filling the air. A reflexive scream ripped from her lungs all while Washington’s haunting image maintained a smug smile. “If you want to get your teammate the medical attention she needs in enough time to save her, I need assurance that you understand this situation completely. You saw how easy it was for me to find you all. Now, I’ve made it clear that I can bring you to your knees without stepping foot on that pitiful planet. Go to the Fortress. Turn yourselves in. If you don’t, or if you waver, I will take the penalties for your insolence out on sweet, little Juneau. Is that message in any way unclear?”

  “No,” Reno answered without hesitation, muscles taut and at the ready to catch his sister.

  The others mumbled inaudible responses of concession.

  Washington let Juneau’s arm drop, gifting them with a glimpse of how her skin was split open, allowing blood to gush in torrents. “Come now, you’re trained soldiers. Surely you have better respect for your governing chancellor than that.”

  Choking on their hatred, the team members snapped to attention a
nd offered him a begrudging salute.

  “Yes, Chancellor Washington,” they chorused, each wanting to cut out their own tongues for uttering such a betrayal.

  His image flickered, color fading from cobalt to pale silver. “The clock is ticking, children. I wouldn’t dawdle if I were you. I would hate to think further motivation was required. Safe travels, team, and have a pleasant apocalypse.”

  A rush of static, and he was gone.

  Juneau slumped down on the deck, her knees slamming into the metal floor with a rattling tang. Complexion draining to a starburst white, she peered down at her wrist. Shock set in, and her body shook with spastic tremors.

  Shrugging off his sling with a pained grimace, Reno rushed to her side. He shoved the fabric into the wound, and applied pressure to slow the bleeding while the rest of the team swarmed.

  Detroit eased Juneau back toward her, letting her sweat-soaked ringlets settle into her lap. “We need to get her to the medical bay.”

  “I’ll get the doctor and a gurney!” Without waiting for confirmation, Tatum sprinted off, banging down the rusty metal stairs.

  With the blue hue of death stealing over Juneau’s trembling lips, Houston grabbed a tourniquet from his medpak and tied it above the wound.

  Not a word passed between any of them.

  None was necessary.

  They saw how close they came and knew what they had to do.

  By morning, if the infant was still alive, the clans would have the proof they would need that they had been manipulated by the Fortress and its governing starship.

  After arming them with that information, the team would trek to the Fortress and turn themselves in.

  What plans Washington had for them, they couldn’t fathom. Whatever it was, it was sure to be a grand spectacle of violent degradation.

  Chapter 17

  In a horrible moment of déjà vu, the doctor once again came out of the infirmary wiping blood from her hands. “This one is stabilized. Anyone else wanna see how I can patch them up with our limited supplies? Or, can we stop this gruesome game now?”