Relapse (Breakers Book 7)

by Edward W. Robertson

  "That's Bedford!" Stella pointed down at one of the Sworn. "I'd recognize those little weasel eyes anywhere."

  "You did it, didn't you?" Raul said. "You beat him."

  Raina stepped in front of the Sworn. "I haven't yet faced him. But I have beaten his people in San Pedro and again on the sea. The people with me are new allies earned in San Diego. Between them, the recruits at the Dunemarket, our victories today, and those of you here, the People of the Stars could be defeated for good."

  Raul's bitter face finally cracked a smile. "I resign."

  Tina swung to face him. "What?"

  "I, Raul Encarnacion, hereby resign from the Council of Catalina. As my last act, I encourage the rest of you to do the same."

  "I won't be blustered by her or by you. This is my responsibility. For the good of this island, I will honor it until I'm voted out."

  Beside her, Nolan nodded. "I'm fine right here, thank you."

  They turned to Sheriff Gates. His mouth worked. "Abstain."

  Tina rolled her eyes, then glared down at Raina. "There you have it. Now please depart Catalina before we escort you from it."

  Raina ignored her, gazing at the warriors. They began to mutter to each other, glancing between the council on the gates and Raina on the path.

  With a great groan, wood creaked, silencing the chatter. Tina's jaw dropped. "The gates! Close those gates!"

  Warriors laughed and rushed to grab hold of the ropes. The doors swung open with a swirl of fog. Raina grinned and walked forward. As she crossed within the palace walls, the warriors began to chant her name.

  * * *

  By the time things calmed enough to take stock, Tina and Nolan had fled the grounds. Expecting they were on their way to Anson, Raina sent a team to Avalon to hop in a boat and patrol the sea, but she had little hope the absconders would be caught.

  It didn't matter. She had returned to her people, and her people had welcomed her home.

  The longest day of her life was not yet over. She dispatched messengers across the island to stir all those who would pledge to fight. After discovering the armory had been plundered by the Sworn, she sent a second round of runners to ask the people, including those who couldn't or wouldn't fight, for any weapons and ammunition they had kept cached away. She arranged for much of the food stored in the basement to be brought down to the pier. She ordered Stella to imprison the captured Sworn, but to treat them with honor as worthy foes.

  She assigned Mauser and Mia to stay on Catalina to continue organizing their burgeoning army, then returned to Avalon with Georgia, the knights, and twenty of her own warriors from the palace. They got into the boats and launched for San Pedro.

  Only then did she sleep.

  She woke to hands lifting her from the boat. It was dawn, and for a moment she was confused, but then she smelled the brackish perfume of the Pedro docks and knew exactly where she was. She made way for the Seat.

  "Thank God you're back," Wendy said once they arrived. "How did it go?"

  Raina rested her elbow on the hilt of her sword. "The council is broken. Catalina is with us once more. The warriors will be here within hours."

  "And then what?"

  "We march on the Heart. This tide will not recede until it has swept Anson and his minions out to sea."

  The people of the Dunemarket had been busy in her absence. Horses and carts stood ready to bear food, water, and supplies behind the troops. Raina's mind was not well suited to calculate how much of things such a large venture would need—to her, resources appeared to be either "enough" or "not enough"—but even she could see that they were going to struggle with insufficient ammunition.

  More would be brought from Catalina, but they were going to have to be conservative. She would need to avoid a long siege. This wasn't a case where she and her pack could nip around the flanks of an elk until it was too exhausted to fight back. She would need to go straight for the throat and keep her teeth clamped no matter how hard her foe tried to shake her off.

  A boat arrived from the island bearing twenty more warriors with the promise that an additional sixty more would arrive by noon. This would push their numbers beyond two hundred, and after their two victories, they ought to outnumber what the People of the Stars could bring to the field. Even so, Raina had hoped for more.

  Yet hope had little to do with what the world deigned to give you. As she always had, she would make do.

  While they waited, the knights rested, sleeping in the shade of the trees in the Seat. Another boat arrived, then a third. The fourth boat was already on its way and would make landfall within an hour. Raina had no sooner received this news than she got word from the scouts to the north—Anson's army was on the march.

  "Where do we set up our defense?" Wendy said. "Gaffey? Here in the hills?"

  "Nowhere." Raina smiled. "We move on the Heart. He will have no choice but to return to it—only to find it is already ours."

  Speed was of the essence. The Heart was more than thirty miles away, more than a day's march—however, she did not intend to travel on foot. They had enough horses and bikes to outfit half their forces. The remainder would voyage to Santa Monica by boat, cutting overland travel to ten miles.

  Raina dispatched the orders. Warriors hustled across the hills, making final preparations. She left Wendy and a small contingent to see that the citizens who had remained in San Pedro would be evacuated before Anson's arrival, then climbed on a sailboat and cast off.

  The day was overcast and the ocean was cold and gray. A line of clouds crouched on the horizon. As they neared Santa Monica, the steady winds drove the fog ashore in thick tendrils.

  A corroded Ferris wheel loomed over the pier. Boats creaked at its side. Near the base of the structure, ten people ran from the shelter of a restaurant and faded into the fog. The fleet tied up and the troops tromped onto the dock. They numbered just over a hundred. Only the main body of Anson's army could stand against them.

  They had arranged to meet with the cavalry and dragoons at the Los Angeles Country Club, barely two miles from the Heart. Raina started off at a good pace, intending to arrive at dusk.

  They moved to Santa Monica Boulevard, passing apartments, shops, the library, a cluster of car dealerships. The fog reduced visibility to several hundred feet. The buildings climbed from two or three stories to many.

  Three blocks ahead, a scout sprinted back toward the advancing warriors. A shot boomed from the hospital behind him. The scout stumbled as if he'd been hit, then found his feet and swerved down a side street. Raina ordered the troops to defensive positions behind cars and stoops.

  The scout rushed in from their left, breathless, palms skinned from his fall. "The Sworn are in the hospital. Fourth floor. No more than a dozen of them."

  "Let's take them out," Raina said.

  Mauser scrunched his brow. "Think it's worth it?"

  "I don't want them coming at us from behind. Or alerting the people remaining in the Heart. I want snipers on the roof there and there." She pointed to buildings on opposite sides of the street a block from the hospital. "We'll enter from the side. Don't let a single man escape."

  Shooters hustled into the buildings to take positions. Her people were a mix of knights, veteran warriors, and raw recruits from San Pedro, but they moved as if they'd been fighting together for months. Even so, by the time they entered the hospital, the Sworn had detected them and abandoned it.

  "They'll be on their way to the Heart, then," Mauser said. "Probably scampering off to tell Anson, too."

  "Probably." Raina gazed south. "By now, though, he could be halfway to the Dunemarket. It'd be hours before his army could make it back."

  She resumed the march. Minutes later, hooves rattled from ahead. The Sworn occupied a bank and peppered them with fire, scattering the warriors to cover. Raina plotted another assault, but same as at the hospital, the Sworn abandoned position as her warriors moved in to take it.

  Raina cursed. "We've misread them. They may h
ave sent a rider to the Heart, but the rest are staying to delay us. Anson might be closer than we think."

  "Could send someone to bring up our cavalry," Mauser said. "These jerks are on horseback. As long as they stay on their toes, they can dance around us as long as they like."

  "There's no time to find our riders. We'll sweep toward the hills. Try to lose the Sworn in the fog."

  They detoured north for a half mile, then resumed northeast along Montana. Raina doubled the scouts. As they neared a compact golf course lined with palm trees and whip-thin evergreens, one of the scouts sprinted back to tell her the Sworn were hiding in the greenery.

  "This stops now," Raina said. "Third, Fourth, and Fifth Blades, I want you to encircle the park. Once you are ready, I will advance with First and Second. Don't give yourselves away until you are certain you can destroy them."

  First and Second hung back while the others maneuvered, keeping two blocks from the golf course. Ten minutes later, Raina nodded her people forward. Mist tumbled through the trees, condensing on leaves and spattering as heavily as rain. As soon as they approached the southern lobe of the course, the Sworn shot at them from a line of trees two hundred yards away. The warriors made for cover, returning enough fire to keep the Sworn honest.

  Raina moved her people north behind rows of trees delineating two of the fairways. As they set into motion, the Sworn mounted up and tore eastward, churning turf.

  A slew of rifles opened fire, cracking through the fog. Men and horses shrieked. Raina ran toward the skirmish, but it was already over. Fourth Blade had killed the Sworn to a man. She called for a pause to loot the bodies and to patch up the two superficial wounds suffered by her people.

  Darkness stole over the city. She hoped it was a trick of the fog, but the sun set while they were still miles from the country club rendezvous. They arrived an hour later; the scouts had already met with Georgia and the cavalry, who had been waiting for some time.

  Raina jogged across the overgrown field. The ocean was distant, but the fog smelled dank and marine. She ordered her people to eat something while she discussed matters with Georgia.

  "What kept you?" Georgia said.

  "A platoon of the Sworn labored to delay us. It took more than an hour to root them out. Any word of Anson's whereabouts?"

  Georgia pressed her lips together. "We sent a few bikers to try to find them. But we've heard nothing."

  "This fog is a knife that cuts both ways."

  "I would think it's best to move quickly, then."

  Raina nodded and ordered her army to regroup. They exited the north end of the country club and headed uphill to the reservoir and the Heart. Hooves clopped on pavement. Condensed fog pattered on sidewalks and beat against the hoods of filthy cars. Between the darkness and the mist, it felt as though they were walking through a separate world, a moonscape summoned forth from silver and night.

  "The Sworn!" a man called from ahead. "The Sworn are on their way back to the Heart!"

  They doubled their pace. Hundreds of yards ahead, white shapes bobbed in the fog. Raina and the army mounted the plateau housing the Heart. The gates boomed closed. Lanterns flicked up from along the wooden walls.

  They were too late.

  27

  One after another, Ness unscrewed the valves on the canisters and lobbed them through the gap at the top of the parking garage entrance. They landed with hard steel clanks and rolled down the ramp on the other side, echoing in the hollow, open space. White gas swirled about him. He tried not to think about the possibility that his mask and suit had lost their integrity over the long years of disuse.

  It wasn't long before his arms started to get noodly. Tristan was still passing him bottles of poison, though, so he wasn't about to quit.

  Debris rustled above him. Tentacles burst from the gap. A laser flicked past Ness' head. He squealed and dropped a canister. Tristan fired her pistol. Yellow ichor spattered Ness' visor. Heart thudding, he picked up the can and tossed it into the garage.

  Tristan ejected her magazine and replaced it. "Let's get out of here!"

  They'd hardly touched one of the two shopping carts of poison. "Just a few more."

  "They're onto us. We could be swarmed any second."

  "Then you better be quick on the trigger!" Before she could protest, Ness dug out another can and hurled it over the wall of rubble.

  Tristan muttered and drew her laser with her left hand. As Ness bent for another canister, blue light flashed above him. An alien slumped at the top of the barrier, struck down by Tristan's weapon. Ness was about ready to piss himself, but they had a chance to knock out an entire hive. He wasn't sure what their intentions were for Swimmer Armageddon Los Angeles, but best not to give them the opportunity.

  He'd managed to get a third of the way down the second shopping cart before a tentacle poked over the lip of the barrier bearing a fat, blunt pistol. It fired blindly, spraying the asphalt with spaghetti-lines of blue heat. Ness dived to the side. A second tentacle emerged and started firing too. Tristan grabbed Ness by his wrist and sprinted to the side.

  A rifle banged from the building across the street. Lasers pulsed on and off. One strobed past Tristan's left; she turned, firing back at the garage as she ran. The rifle sounded again, then a third time. White gas churned from the entrance. An alien plopped to the ground, three others right on its chitinous heels. They staggered, shooting wildly.

  Sam sniped one down, then a second. The twins opened fire, hammering a third. The last seemed to fall of its own accord. Its prone body jerked as Sam put a round into its big fat head.

  Ness waited five minutes for more aliens to appear. When none did, he returned to the garage, accompanied by Tristan, and tossed the rest of the cans inside. Finished, they headed to the building to join up with the twins. Sprite and Emma showed up an hour later, reporting the aliens had made no effort to break into the sewers.

  Sam wandered downstairs. "Given the reactions of the ones who made it over, I'd say it affects them. Question is, was there enough?"

  "The doctor seemed to think so," Tristan said.

  "He has a degree in extraterrestrial-killing studies, does he?"

  "Well, that gas is heavier than air. It's going to sit down there and continue poisoning them until we flush it out."

  "Let's give it a day," Ness said. "Then go in and gather their stuff. See if we can learn anything more about the party in L.A."

  Wary of both aliens and humans who might come to see what the ruckus was about, they climbed to the upper floors of the tower. There, they watched the entrance to the ruins of the Deutsche Bank for a full day. Figuring that was more than enough time to marinate the infestation, and without seeing a single glimpse of another Swimmer, they went to the sewer to cut open the pipe and allow the unsettled gas to be flushed out from the garage.

  "Ought to take care of the rat problem," Ness said.

  "Let's hope that's all it gets." Tristan sloshed through the pipe back toward the surface. Gas spilled into the sewer behind her. They were fully suited and it made the brick tunnels feel even tighter. "Didn't Dr. Gohel say people used to live down here?"

  "Only during the war, I think. I sure hope they've found somewhere better to pitch their tent. It's not like there's a housing shortage."

  They gave the garage several hours to air out, then went to haul rubble away from the entrance. Dead aliens were piled against the other side, tentacles draped over each other limply. Ness couldn't decide if it was super gross or super sad. Whatever the case, it was their own damn fault. People had already whipped them good, and here they were years later, still trying to take over the planet. If he hadn't known Sebastian, he'd have assumed they were as dumb as an abalone.

  He smiled to himself. Bummer that Sebastian was still back in the sub. He always thought it was hilarious when Ness made fun of stuff that lived in the water.

  All told, there were thirteen bodies around the barricade. That left thirty or more down in the depths. Weapon
s in hand, the seven humans descended into the garage.

  Three more Swimmers lay at the base of the ramp. A number of the canisters had come to a stop in greasy pools of residue. Others had kicked further down the first level, coming to rest against pillars and beneath cars. Another few aliens were scattered around the gritty concrete floor. This was good—it looked like the poison had done its job—but Ness would have preferred if they'd all had the courtesy to come upstairs to die where he could see them.

  They finished the sweep of the top floor and found the ramp down to the second. Another Swimmer was sprawled there, legs bent up and inward like a spider that's been whacked with a newspaper. Their flashlights slashed through the black, illuminating the maze of orange matter the aliens had surfaced their home with.

  "We're looking for anything electronic," Ness said. "Most of their stuff looks like tablets."

  He entered a gap in the seven-foot walls, breath rasping in his mask. The others followed behind him, weapons ready. The rubbery walls were blank. He turned a corner and twelve-inch holes opened into the sides of the hall. Most were empty. Three held bodies.

  They didn't see much of interest until they reached the open space where Ness had swiped the first pad. There, two more bodies lay against a blank wall. The sleeping holes were all vacant. Low tables held more tablets and some small cubical pieces that might be computers, data storage, or shiny paperweights. As Ness inspected and sorted these, Sam, Sprite, and the twins scouted the next turn of the maze.

  A wet sloughing sound whispered across the space. Ness whirled. Above the wall where the bodies rested, an orange lid peeled away. Swimmers spilled from the box.

  "Holy shit!" Ness yelled.

  He went for his laser. Across the room, Tristan opened up with gun and laser. A blue beam streaked from the aliens and seared into Ness' ribs, perforating his suit with a hiss. He cried out and fell behind a table. Hard, pointed feet skittered toward him.