“So, where’s your costume? And your hair?”
“I’m retired. I choose what I wear, how I look.”
“Huh.” It made sense. Slaughter hadn’t had a trace of her getup on, either. That answer eliminated at least a dozen follow-up questions. The Boss wasn’t going to be pleased there were no fashion plugs. I regrouped. “So, nearly a thousand kills in the Arena. How does it feel knowing you have the highest, unbeaten kill count in history?”
“It makes me sick.”
That surprised me. I set down my coffee and studied her face. “Why?”
“How would you feel if you knew you killed 973 people?”
“They aren’t people. I don’t have to imagine anything.”
Dreadful grunted. “MC, I’m not going to waste any more of your time or mine. I didn’t contact your news station for an interview for credits. There’s something about the Infected that you—that no one—knows.”
This town. Sister Slaughter. I knew something was going on and, finally, someone was going to level with me. Darla Dreadful suddenly became a lot more interesting. “Tell me, then. I’m waiting.”
Her mouth opened at the same time sirens started wailing outside.
“Fuck, what’s happening?” I asked. My heart thundered in my chest and my fingers started to tingle as adrenaline flooded my system.
Darla Dreadful stood. Her long jacket fell aside. Two sleek guns were holstered on both hips. At least a dozen knives were strapped against her ribcage. A sash of magazines ran around her hips just above the guns. She was carrying tranquilizers. She pulled out a little vial, some kind of combat nano aug I guessed, and inhaled it.
“There’s something you need to see,” she said. Her pupils dilated as the augment took hold. “Something that will change everything.”
THE SIRENS WERE MUCH LOUDER outside. I didn’t want to follow her, but my gut knew there was a huge story to be had. Whatever was happening, I needed to know.
Mercy seemed quiet, borderline dead when I first arrived. Now it was bursting with action. Townspeople rushed outside with guns. No, tranquilizers.
Mingled with them were more Bonecrushers. I recognized them from the way they moved, even without their Gimmicks. They shouted orders to the townspeople as they led the charge towards the gate. The gate that was wide open.
Dreadful pulled out her guns.
“You’ll be fine. This happens all the time.”
All towns, even Mercy, had walls to keep out the Infected. In Haven, they were twenty feet thick, electrified, and heavily guarded by dudes who had real fucking bullets. Mercy’s were ten feet tall and made of chain link, welded metal, and rusty patches of vehicles from a hundred years ago.
The gates were open and we were headed straight for them. A story wasn’t worth it if I wasn’t going to survive to write it.
When I spun around to run back, Dreadful grabbed my wrist. “Don’t.”
I glanced at the motel. Suit. I needed to get to my bodyguard. This town was full of insane people. Who knew what they were going to do with the Infected once they tranquilized them. Yeah, I was curious. Not enough to let my throat get torn out by the snapping jaws of an Infected.
She handed me one of her knives. It was heavier than it looked. “This will make you feel better, but you won’t need it. Just stay here and watch, got it?”
The first Infected barreled around the corner of the gate and my body stiffened. My grip on the knife was so hard it became a part of me. The crowd rushed past, fearless. The first Infected I locked onto was a woman. She looked the same as they all did. Wild hair, dirty face, tattered clothing. If I were closer I’d see how her iris and pupils were jagged.
I spotted Dreadful. Her jacket fluttered as she moved. She raised her arms and squeezed the triggers on her dual wielded tranquilizers…
And suddenly someone was bear-hugging me from behind, dragging me back. Their grip around my chest was so tight I couldn’t even take a breath to scream.
Everyone was focused on the Infected. They didn’t notice me vanish into a narrow alley. I was on my own.
I dropped my bodyweight and took a low squat position, then thrusted my butt towards the attacker. It knocked them off-balance. They grunted and tried to haul me up off my feet. I let my body go dead, making it harder for them to lift me.
My hands were free. I was so busy struggling with the rest of my body I didn’t realize my best tools were in front of me. Dreadful’s little knife was still in one hand. I focused on their hands—which were huge and knobby, definitely male—and made sure I was going to slash him and not me.
The first cut sliced deep, right through his glove and across the top of his hand. His grip on me weakened and I used that chance, stomping hard on his instep. When I felt him start to release, I spun to face him and go straight for his face with my knife.
“MC, stop!”
“Suit?!”
Bloods gushed out of his hand. His face was red and sweaty. “Jesus, I was just trying to get you out of there!”
My second of hesitation and confusion were all he needed. He rushed me, grabbed my knife hand and twisted it so hard I dropped the weapon.
His other hand came around the back of my neck. Suit yanked me forward and tripped me. My hands broke some of the fall, but I was sure my wrist was broken.
I went to roll onto my back to get into a defensible position, then felt his knee digging into my lower spine. His hand was on my head again, pushing the side of my face into the cement.
“This is Jackson in Mercy,” Suit said. He was on his com. “Connect me.”
He had me pinned and I couldn’t move. He was banking on me staying still and cooperating. Or being too afraid to fight back. He expected me to make it easy for him.
I took a deep breath and screamed as loud as I could. When Suit pushed my face harder, I felt my teeth digging hard into my cheek. Tasted blood. I could barely get a breath, but I kept trying. Wriggling despite the pain.
“Sir, Mercy is a hotbed of insurgent activity, just like you thought.” Suit said. “We need to get a sweep team in here immediately. The reporter needs to be debriefed immediately. I think she met with Darla—”
The weight on my body lifted and Suit was gone. I rolled onto my back and scrambled up against the alleyway wall. Suit was on the ground on his side, getting to his feet. Darla Dreadful walked towards him purposefully. Her guns were gone and she was out of knives.
Suit tried to take the offensive and threw a punch. Dreadful shifted and dodged it effortlessly. Suit’s momentum caused him to stumble forward. She spun and grabbed the back of his neck with one hand, his hurt hand in her other. She pulled his arm so far back I heard something snap.
His free hand slipped into his suit jacket. There was a flash of silver and I saw a knife. Dreadful saw what he was doing and evaded his wild slashes. She took advantage of his unsteady position and dropped to her knee, taking him to the ground with her.
She raised his head and beat it against the ground. Once, twice, three times. Suit’s face was nothing more than raw meat when she was finished.
Dreadful pried the knife out of his hand and jammed it into his throat. Not missing a beat, she turned her face to the edge of her jacket where I guessed there was a mic. “Our position is known. Evacuate the town.”
“Holy fuck,” I choked. “Holy fuck!”
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
I got to my feet and put a few extra feet of distance between me and Dreadful. “Answers. Now.”
“Your bodyguard just tried to kill you. I saved you. The town is being attacked by a small wave of Infected. The attack is almost over.”
“Okay, great. That answers the here and now. I’m talking big picture. Why did my bodyguard try to kill me? Why did you save me and what do you want from me?”
“MC, I will explain everything to you, but we need to evacuate the town. MegaCorp knows we’re here. In ten minutes this place will be flooded with people a lot stronger than your body
guard and with a lot more firepower.” She took a step towards me. “If you stay here, you will die. I don’t want that.”
I looked at her and swallowed the lump in my throat. The coppery taste of blood was still strong in my mouth. My wrist and face stung.
I flashed a smile. “Lucky for you, neither do I.”
MY VISION OF A THRILLING escape from Mercy included fast, sleek motorcycles speeding away as the town exploded. It was a bit of a surprise when Dreadful led me and a handful of Bonecrushers back to the empty lot behind the motel to the charred building I spotted the night before.
She crouched down and pulled a matted swath of dead grass aside, revealing a closed metal hatch. It was rusty, ancient, and I suddenly thought of how much I disliked small spaces.
Dreadful tilted her head. Someone must’ve be talking to her on com. When I looked at the Bonecrushers around me, they all had the distant gaze.
“Splicer, Baron—you’re with me,” she said after a moment. “MC, stay behind us. Wolf says there might be some Infected in the tunnels.”
The two Bonecrushers she called on stepped forward. Even without their Gimmicks their names fit them. Splicer’s skin was augmented to look reptilian. The scales provided a small amount of defense against punches and light slashes. He had yellow eyes to match and a pair of sleek katanas on his back.
Baron had a jaw like a shovel and a black beard. He had a rifle slung across his back. Another tranquilizer. I noted he still wore his trademark spiked knuckles. He squatted down and turned the wheel on the hatch. Veins bulged in his neck as he lifted open the heavy door. There was nothing but blackness below.
Splicer shot me a wicked grin and a waggle of his thin eyebrows before he stepped into the hatch and disappeared. Chuckling, Baron followed.
“Take the ladder,” Dreadful told me as she started climbing down. “They just like to show off.”
I squashed down my fear and followed her. The shaft smelled damp and earthy, the rungs of the ladder slippery under my hands. My wrists and face still throbbed and it made getting a good grip tricky.
A loud squeak overhead grabbed my attention. The lid to the shaft slammed shut and we were thrown into darkness. A second later there was a cracking noise and then a warm orange glow illuminated the shaft. I continued down, counting the rungs as I went. We must’ve been at least forty feet below the surface.
When my feet hit the ground, I took a deep breath and scanned my surroundings. We were in a round brick tunnel. A thin trail of water ran down the center of the floor where it sloped inward. The tunnel went forward about fifty feet before turning into a Y.
There was a metal case to the side of the shaft. It had a hand scanner on top that shone a soft blue, cutting through the orange of the glow stick. Dreadful put her hand against it. The panel beeped and the lid opened. Inside were gleaming guns and knives. She grabbed a canister and tossed it to me.
“For your wrist and face.”
It was a spray made of nanobots that self-destructed as soon as they had assessed and healed whatever they were sprayed on. Expensive as fuck and generally only used in the military and emergency medical services. They were only good for superficial wounds and wouldn’t mend broken bones.
I sprayed it liberally onto my face and wrists. There was a tingly sensation and the pain started fading as the bots got to work.
“I’m not taking another step until you give me something,” I said. I was feeling more like myself already.
Dreadful refilled her tranq dart sash and started sliding knives into her girdle. She looked at Splicer and nodded towards the Y ahead of us. “Scout left. Baron, guard right.”
The two Bonecrushers moved forward, feet splashing in the water. They must have had high-end eye augs because neither had a light with them and soon disappeared into the ominous abyss.
“You’re here because out of the millions of other hacks in the Havens who work for news stations, you seem smart. I’ve followed your work. Not the shit you write for your news station. The underground stories.”
Now that, I didn’t expect.
That whole being shot at, stabbed, and kidnapped thing? That didn’t happen in the name of the news station. That all happened on my own time, writing my own stories that my buddy Techno Joe posted online from untraceable origins.
I wrote about the kind of corporate and social corruption you’d get threatened and hurt over. It was the journalism I cared about that no one else did.
“How did you link me to those stories?”
“Techno Joe. When I told him I was looking for the writer who wanted to take MegaCorp down a notch, he named you.”
Techno Joe and his Hacker Harem were the only people I trusted with my conspiracy theories and exposés. It appeared that might’ve been a huge mistake.
“Enough bullshit. I get you’ve been tracking me and something big is going down. Tell me exactly what you want from me.”
She secured one more knife into her girdle and looked me straight in the eyes. “Human existence is owned by MegaCorp. You live in Havens, you’re fed by Havens, and you exist by the grace of the Havens.”
So far, none of this was new to me. She was rehashing theories I’d been spewing for years. MegaCorp had monopolized human existence. They were too powerful. The problem was, there was no way to destroy a force that was, for all intents and purposes, God.
I sighed. “If you want to take down MegaCorp, forget it. They’re too strong. I’ve been trying to get people to listen for years. They don’t care. All that gear you’re wearing and toting about? They fucking made that, Darla Dreadful. Jesus, they own you. Bonecrushers are patented by MegaCorp. If you’ve read my work, you know the revenue generated by anything relating to Bonecrushers counts for billions of credits every year.”
“You’re right, of course.” A sly grin tugged at her lips. “What’s the one thing critical to MegaCorp’s success? What’s the one factor that must be present in order for them to own us?”
I glanced upward, imagining the wave of Infected that tried to take out Mercy. “The Infected.”
Suddenly Splicer was beside me. I hadn’t even heard him approach.
“Seems clear,” he said.
Dreadful grabbed a tranq gun from the trunk and handed it to me. “What if I told you I can end the Infection. What if I told you I have the proof you need to make people care?”
“I’d say lead the way.” I took the tranq gun and inspected it. “And that you’d better not be fucking around.”
WE MOVED IN A SQUARE formation with Splicer and Baron in the lead. No matter how lightly I tried to step, my footsteps echoed much louder than my Bonecrusher companions’.
The glow stick didn’t illuminate the tunnel very far. We were a little blip of orange light amongst darkness that was trying to swallow us whole. There was a sheen of sweat across my body that caught the light when I moved.
I swore I heard a faint howl somewhere ahead of us and was about to chalk it up to adrenaline and overworked nerves, when I heard it again.
Closer. Louder.
Splicer stepped ahead and centered his katana low in front of him. Baron stood adjacent to him, his legs slightly apart, knees bent. Why did they have the killing weapons and all I had was a tranquilizer?
An Infected burst from the darkness. He was naked and pale with scratches across his chest. His mouth was wide open, eyes glittering, howling as he lunged for Splicer with his bare hands. I’d never seen one like this before. This one barely seemed human.
“Reapers!” Splicer yelled. “Lethal force!”
Splicer stepped aside and the Infected fell into Baron. Baron punched him in the temple so hard his frail body slammed with a crack against the tunnel wall. With one stomp from Baron’s massive boot, the Infected was down. Dark, shining blood and brain matter seeped from the jagged mess that was once his head.
It happened in a split second, then there were more of them clamoring into the light of the glow stick. Splicer moved into the hord
e, slashing and jabbing with his wicked blade. Soon he disappeared.
Baron threw punches. The Infected were so thick every strike met a head. I wanted to use my tranquilizer but I couldn’t get a good shot.
It didn’t matter. One last Infected came running down the hallway, unaware and indifferent to the fact that he was outnumbered. Instead of cutting it in half, Splicer dodged it and the Infected ran straight into Baron’s arms. Baron spun him around and dropped him to the ground, placing his knee on the Infected’s back.
The thing struggled wildly to get free from the weight of the huge man.
“Not a Reaper. He can be saved.”
“What the hell? Kill that thing and let’s get out of here!” I shouted.
Dreadful shook her head. “We need him. This is your proof, MC.”
Baron hogtied the Infected. He lifted the skinny thing with one hand and carried it down the hallway.
AT THE END OF THE tunnel was an old hatch, similar to the one we entered up top. Baron set the Infected aside and spun the wheel. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, revealing a gigantic room buzzing with activity.
There were at least a dozen tables set up with monitors and computers. Some tables were in plastic enclosures, their inhabitants wearing face masks and goggles, handling vials of a bright orange liquid.
In the center of the room was a ten by ten foot clear box with a small touch screen panel by its door. The box was empty. Baron hauled the Infected over to it and pushed him inside. He untied his feet and briskly stepped back out, locking the Infected in. The Infected was up and on its feet in a heartbeat, throwing itself against the door as it howled. All I heard was a soft thud every time it hit the shatter and soundproof glass.
The people in the room stopped working and wandered over to the box. Dreadful stepped forward.
“It’s happening and it’s happening real fucking fast. Lucas, what’s the status of Mercy?”
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