Blood God (The Hroza Connection Book 5)

by William Vitka

  Caleb taps the table. “It does at least give us some hint about what the walking cities are doing. Or what they’ll become. Are becoming, I suppose. Like those ones we saw heading into the water. Again, it’s not good news, but it is news.”

  DeVille looks to Catarina. “Did you guys figure anything out about how to deal with it, though?” She crosses her arms. “I mean, shit, we got the mimics trying to destroy us from the inside and then if we survive em, this thing’s just gonna roll over us in—”

  “Nine days,” Caleb says.

  Jack chuckles. “Oh man. That’s just great.” He stands. Starts to pace. Scratches his neck. Lights another cigarette. “And things were going so goddamn well.”

  Catarina eyeballs him. Turns to the rest of us. “Caleb and I haven’t been able to get through to our contact yet, no.”

  I put a hand up. “Wait wait wait. Your ‘contact?’ What the hell does that mean? Plissken told me we’re the last survivor camp on the planet.”

  “Well, he wasn’t wrong. And therein lies the problem.”

  “You guys trying to hail your old bosses? ‘The Collective’ or whatever it was they were called?”

  Catarina shakes her head. “No. After the three of us returned to this timeline, we were cut off. No more help from them.”

  Jack breathes smoke. “Yeah, they don’t pick up the phone anymore.”

  Catarina nods to Caleb. “You wanna do the mandatory exposition thing?”

  Caleb shrugs. “Guess so.” He leans forward. Props his elbows up. “Back in 2014, just before Three—our Hroza—woke up and ruined our lives/saved us—depending on how you look at it—a flying saucer crashed near a logging camp in Alaska.”

  I grimace at my uncle. “...Kay.”

  Sorry, I just don’t have any good response to that.

  I’ve already accepted the fact that I’m related to an ancient race of monsters whose genetic gifts allow me to Wolverine myself—so I can’t really doubt any of this.

  Caleb says, “When the ship crashed, it released what one of the survivors calls ‘biowarmachines.’ Real nasty motherfuckers created by the aliens. Biologically engineered monsters. It’s also the first modern instance of a Hroza appearance. Apparently the aliens—‘pilots’—captured one of the Corrupted we fought on Emergence Day. It went predictably batshit, which is what woke Three up and started the other Corrupted on a course for Earth.” Caleb clears his throat. “It also released the parasite. Unknown at the time. Since the parasite was only just being re-introduced to the human population, nothing happened for a long time. It had to adapt to us. Which took thousands of generations. Several decades. By the time you—” my uncle points to me “—covered Schneer skullfucking a whore to death, the parasite was ready.”

  I light a cigarette. “Kay.”

  Caleb rolls his eyes. Not impressed with my not-impressed-ness. “The loggers were the real heroes of the first engagement. Tom Swift. Alan Fiske. Daniel ‘Doc’ Thompson. And Michael Gordineer. Survivors. Swift and Thompson’s grandchildren are actually here—both operating choppers. Unfortunately, none of the pilots survived. Mostly due to Thompson’s anger at losing some of his dogs. He murdered the final pilot here. If any of the pilots had survived, we probably could’ve gotten this taken care of easily. According to the records, they’ve successfully dealt with the infection before. But, I suppose they aren’t too thrilled with the idea of dealing with us anymore.”

  I take a lungful of smoke. “Kay.”

  Caleb rubs his face.

  I’m kinda enjoying messing with him at this point.

  He says, “What we do have is the transponder code for the ship. The Cukr’Prsou. Gordineer commandeered it after the pilots were killed. He decided to play diplomat after the Alaska incident. He flew back to their planet to talk to the pilots. He’s our contact. He’s the person we’re trying to reach.

  “We need the pilots’ firepower if we’re going to defeat the wall of flesh.” He scratches his cheek. “There are other options, but I’d rather avoid em.”

  I bite my bottom lip. “And you ain’t heard dick from him.”

  “We know we’ve reached the ship. We’ve gotten pings back. But, no, Gordineer hasn’t responded yet.”

  “Sounds like six sides of shit.” I stab my cigarette out.

  Jack says, “Agreed.”

  Caleb spreads his hands. “That’s why there’s plan B.”

  Jade says, “Uh...I’m still on the line here. Do I need to be? That’s super fuckin neato about the crashed spaceship and all, but I’d like to run away.”

  “No, please return to the fort as soon as possible.”

  “Kay. Bye mom!”

  DeVille offers the hologram a little wave. “Bye honey.”

  I say, “Plan B is what.” Not quite a question. Got a feeling it involves climbing into a Talos mech and ripping shit up.

  Caleb says, “The emergent in camp man their Talos warframes. We march west. Meet up with Jade. Try to take down the wall of flesh before it gets here.”

  Plissken says, “The robots have finished putting together the warframes. That’s the benefit of three hundred mechanical workmen.” He bobs. “Though I’ll point out that Juliet, Lovelace, and Turing will want to go as well. They’re fond of killing parasites and, frankly, they’re bored with security detail.”

  Caleb lifts his eyebrows. Makes a face like, All right, whatever. “Then we’ll need to put someone in charge who we trust. I’d prefer—”

  “Whoa, hey,” I say. “What other emergent? You folks are dogballs at sharing intelligence.”

  Jack says, “The other emergent have been in training. A couple of em are, uh—” Jack takes a deep breath “—not quite what you’d normally think of as warriors.”

  “Dogs? Cats? Fish? Teenage mutant turtles who are also ninjas?”

  Jack chuckles. “Nope. Emergence is a purely homo sapiens endeavor, far as we can tell. There might be badass cats and dogs and turtles out there, but we haven’t met any yet.”

  DeVille’s eyes flit from Caleb to Catarina to Jack to Plissken. “I don’t know what it is with this family, but the jokey crap is getting old.”

  Catarina says, “Svoboda men are all dorks. Trust me.”

  “I’m a marine. I need to hear a plan. I wanna know what the hell is going on. All of it. Y’know, little stuff. Like: Where am I going? What am I doing? How do we plan on staying alive? Et cetera.”

  Catarina reaches behind her. Steals one of Jack’s cigarettes from his pocket. Lights it. “You’ll meet the other emergent tomorrow. They’ll be close enough to done with their training. We’ll run an exercise with the warframes, then...We’ll go after the wall of flesh.” She takes a drag. Exhales. Looks around the table. “For right now, just try to enjoy your time.”

  Nothing like your mom hinting that you’re all gonna die.

  * * *

  DeVille and me.

  We go home.

  We drink and smoke and shower and fuck.

  Like our lives depend on it.

  For hour after hour.

  The one important thing we do.

  Man.

  The most important thing we do is promise each other.

  Promise each other we’ll go out proper.

  Die the way warriors are supposed to.

  If it comes to that.

  18. Meet the Emergent

  It’s early.

  I fuckin hate it.

  We’re back in the armory. Walking between the racks of weapons. Me, DeVille, Jack, and Catarina. Supposed to meet the other emergent who’ll help us with this wonderful suicide mission against the wall of flesh.

  So as you can imagine, we’re pretty cheerful.

  I say to Jack’s back, “These people better be impressive.”

  He glances over his shoulder at me.
“We wouldn’t bother if they weren’t.”

  There are two teenagers leaning against one of the far weapon racks. Just short of the big space in front of Plissken’s robotic manufacturing line. A black dude with a shaved head and a Chinese chick. They’re both thin. Fit. I see muscles ripple under their carbon mesh suits. The black dude has metal braces on his legs.

  They stand at attention when they see Jack and Catarina.

  Ah, shit.

  Our goddamn teammates are a couple kids.

  I say, “Jack is this a joke?” Knowing full well it ain’t.

  Both of my parents ignore me.

  I frown. Blink at DeVille.

  She shrugs. Pats my ass while we walk. “It’ll be fine, Big Daddy. At least wait till they open their mouths to be horribly disappointed.”

  I groan. “But teenagers are so dumb.”

  Catarina handles the introductions. “Meet Booker King and Sarah Yuan.” She nods to the black dude and the Chinese chick, respectively. “They’ve been in training for... How long is it?”

  Booker’s face is stern. “Five years, ma’am.” His eyes find mine.

  Sarah says, “Since we were twelve.” Her face serious like Booker’s.

  For the love of shit, please tell me they’ve got a sense of humor.

  Teenagers are bad. Humorless teenagers are worse.

  I scratch my cheek. “Why I gotta run with kids?”

  Sarah says, “Because we’re good.” Her stone stare at the wall unbroken.

  “Better’n you,” Booker says. His face gets smug.

  I laugh. “That right?” Feign astonishment. “You goofy little fucker. You been training for five years? I’ve been fighting and burying my fuckin friends for ten. Pinch your bullshit off.”

  Catarina pushes me back. “All right, all right. I get where there’s some big dicks swinging.”

  Jack pokes the back of my head. “Fuck is this?” He pokes Booker in the forehead. “This is not the time.”

  The doors to the side tunnel open wide. Same tunnel me and DeVille walked through to get to the slaughter at the western wall.

  A warframe marches toward us.

  The gravelly voice booms, “Goddamn. This is an easy way to have a good time.”

  I lift my eyebrows.

  That’s a sentiment I can get behind.

  The voice and the warframe enter the armory. Forty tons of metal stained a thousand shades of gore shouting ten tons of revelry.

  I like this guy.

  The warframe stops just shy of Plissken’s big doors. A guy crawls out its neck. Jumps. Catches the catwalk above the armory floor. He’s fit, I guess. Bulky. Like a warframe. Stocky. Like me. He shouts down, “Know what we need? Like a...a Tommy gun, except instead of .45 rounds, it shoots forty-five centimeter slugs. Y’know?” He mimes the gun in his hands.

  The door to the catwalk opens.

  Athena walks out.

  I wave to her.

  She runs to this new guy.

  Hugs him.

  Kisses him.

  And bam, I don’t like him much anymore.

  Athena waves back once she pulls her face away from this dude’s. She and the guy share a few unheard words.

  The guy crawls over the catwalk.

  Scales his warframe.

  Works his way down to the floor.

  He walks up to me. Around Booker and Sarah.

  He sticks his hand out. Says, “Aiden, sir.” He’s got buzz cut brown hair and hazel eyes so light they’re almost a glowing yellow.

  Handsome sonuvabitch.

  I say, “Aiden what.”

  “Aiden Reilly.”

  You gonna punch him? This is the dude who’s nailing your daughter. You should punch him.

  I squint at him. Take his hand. “Aiden. Good to meet you.” My grip maybe a little tighter than it should be. Just enough to let him know who I am.

  Athena pirouettes to the factory floor. Looks me over. Says, “Daddy, don’t do anything stupid. I like him. Leave him alone.”

  I flip my eyes from hers to Aiden’s.

  The giant doors to Plissken’s manufacturing plant slide open. He hovers out. Says, “Though I can appreciate your annoyance, please listen to your daughter.” He zips down to me. “And really, what would be the point of killing him?”

  I roll my eyes around. “Primitive but useless display of dominance?”

  “Precisely.”

  I sigh. Light a cigarette. “All right, I’m done being an asshole.”

  Certain to be a short-lived endeavor.

  I offer an American Spirit to Aiden.

  He shakes his head. “Nah. I don’t smoke.”

  Well, that’s disappointing. It’s close to a family tradition.

  What? Cancer?

  “Okay,” I say. “So there’s—” I cast my eyes across the faces in the room “—eight emergent who’re gonna take out the wall of flesh.”

  Caleb strides through one of the big factory doors. “Nine, but, yes.” There’s a wry smile on his face. “Come on.” He waves us toward him.

  We march. Pass inside. Catarina in the lead. She says, “Welcome to the Daedalus.”

  It’s huge. Bigger than the armory. Two hundred feet long. Clean and shiny. Metal gleams. Lit by intense fluorescent lights from above. The walls are lined with machines whose purpose I’ll never understand. Every one of em pumping out ammunition and weapons and...robots.

  There are robots everywhere. Everywhere.

  They scurry between thumping welding arms. Stamping machines. Production lines that move all the badass shit Plissken’s got em building. Sparks fly between the bots.

  I walk passed the end of a thin conveyor belt. A small metal disk pops out. Rolls to the end. Flops to a rest. A tiny crashed flying saucer. Looks a helluva lot like Plissken.

  It squeaks. Chirps. Two eyes like headlights flip open near its bulbous center.

  Oh. My. Gosh! It’s a baaaaabyyyyyyyyyy!

  Durandal makes a clapping noise in my head.

  Sooooo cuuuuuuuute.

  I mean, it is. In a Batteries Not Included kinda way.

  The droid figures its engines out. Throttles its thrusters. Hovers in front of me and scans me. It chirps again. Coos.

  I smile. “Hey little guy.”

  Adopt him. Adopt him! He’s the adorableist!

  The baby saucer bobs in the air.

  I say, “You wanna hang with me? Been kinda lonely now that Plissken’s got his own kids and, y’know, important world-saving shit to do.”

  DeVille clears her throat. “Lonely?”

  “Hey.” I wrap my arm around her waist. “No, I just mean—”

  “You’re better with bots than humans. Yeah, I got that. Still a tad insulted.” DeVille puffs her cheeks. Says, “What’re we gonna call it?”

  “Probably better to ask, if it’s AI.” I nod to the floating bot. “Ideas?”

  A small holographic sign floats in the air. Reads: PUSSY DESTROYER.

  I cackle.

  DeVille smacks me.

  I say, “Sorry, man. No good. Think of another one.”

  The sign changes. Reads: HARRYHAUSEN.

  DeVille says, “Much better.”

  I whistle. “C’mon, Harryhausen. You’re with us.”

  The baby robot chirps. Follows near my right shoulder.

  Me and DeVille jog. Catch up to the group. Get there in time to hear Plissken say, “After testing, we’ve modified the Talos warframes so that the neural interface is operating at optimal efficiency. On top of that, we’ve added another layer of carbyne armor, which brings it to ten levels.”

  Booker grins. “Excellent. Thanks, Plissken.”

  “You’re very welcome. It would be shitty if Earth’s last warriors died fr
om a lack of protection.” Plissken turns to me. “Though psychotic acts are still cause for alarm.”

  I flap my hands at my old pal. “Oh, pft. You love my psychotic acts.” I take a drag from my American Spirit. “When’s game time?”

  Caleb says, “As soon as you’re ready. Booker and Sarah are cleared for engagement. They’ve both put in their time with the warframes.” He smiles. “And frankly, I’m looking forward to getting back in the fight.” He smirks. “Bureaucracy’s kept me on my ass for too long.”

  Jack twists the top off a bottle of Evan Williams whiskey. Takes a mouthful. “It’s the end of the end of the world. Might as well get kinda tore up.” He hands the bottle off to Booker.

  The kid drinks. Doesn’t grimace. Taps the metal along his legs with the glass. “Cuz of you guys, I can walk again.” He looks around the Daedalus. “I can walk and I can kick ass.” He tosses the whiskey to Sarah.

  She drinks. Eyeballs me and DeVille. “You guys don’t know shit about me. Booker and I? Maybe you think we’re too young. But we’ve been through it. We’re ready to fight.” She tilts her head to Booker. “We’re not red shirts. Not here to be fodder.”

  Catarina plucks the Even Williams from Sarah’s hands. “None of us are.” She chugs the booze. “Wall of flesh moves at about one mile an hour. Warframes run at fifty. More if you can push em. We’re gonna hit that cocksucker at the Ashokan Reservoir in upstate New York.

  “So get your shit together. We got almost a hundred and sixty miles of killing to do.”

  Harryhausen chirps.

  19. The Disappearing Son

  Jack, Catarina and Caleb huddle together. They hold each other’s shoulders. Jack plants a brotherly kiss on Caleb’s head. Pats his back. Then he holds Catarina’s face in his hands. Locks his lips with her before all three file into their warframes.

  Booker and Sarah clap each other’s heads. Chest bump. Fist bump. Climb into their machines.

  Athena kisses my cheek. “You and DeVille can come to me and Aiden’s place when this is done. We’ll make dinner.”

  Aiden offers his hand again. “Be safe, sir.”

  I take it. “Enough with the ‘sir’ shit, just keep my daughter alive.”