by David Moody
“Whose end?”
“Stop it, you infuriating little man. All that’s important here is the total eradication of the enemy.”
“Whose aim also happens to be the total eradication of us.”
“Exactly. We don’t have any choice. We need to fulfill our objective at all costs because if we don’t, we’re dead.”
Matt’s exasperated. There’s no point arguing. He looks around at the other faces up here. Chappell is staring at him.
“So how come you’re still alive?”
“What?”
“You heard me. If it’s all kicking off out there, how come you made it back here safe?”
“It’s what I do. I just have the knack, I guess.”
Chappell sounds concerned. “Tell us exactly what you saw.”
“I’ve already told you. Haters. Hundreds and hundreds of them. And they’re stronger and much better organized and equipped than any I’ve seen since before the bomb.”
“And are they capable of thinking tactically? Some of the ones we’ve been dealing with these last few days have been borderline suicidal.”
“Well, by virtue of the fact they’re in the biggest fucking pack I’ve seen, I’d guess their leaders are doing something right. Listen, most Haters I’ve come across out there aren’t stupid. They’re going to go with the safest option, same as we would. Same as most people here have. I think you have to assume they’re more than capable of organizing themselves properly and fighting back.”
“I’m not convinced.”
“What?”
Chappell addresses Estelle but points accusingly at Matt. “I’ve never met this bloke before. Never heard anyone talk about him, either.”
“To be honest, I’ve done my best to forget about him,” Estelle says. “He’s a bad penny who keeps turning up. A lucky little bastard.”
“That’s what concerns me. You said he’d got an inability to die and that people come off second best when they’re around him. Now he’s telling you he managed to sneak past this massive Hater army. Does none of this strike you as a little strange? Convenient?”
“You think I’m one of them?” Matt says, incredulous.
Chappell ignores him, talking directly to Estelle now. “When did you first come across him?”
“Back in the city. He followed Franklin through the crowds after an incident.”
“He tracked one of your best men?”
“Franklin spotted him, but yes.”
“Then what?”
“He went out in the field with Franklin to round up Haters in no-man’s-land. He almost bought it a couple of times, by all accounts.”
“But again, he made it back safe?”
“Yes.”
“And before he turned up at Thornhill?”
“I’d forgotten about him until then, to be honest. If I’d been a gambling woman, I’d have put money on him being right under the nuke when it exploded, cuddled up in the arms of the love of his life.”
Matt flinches at the mention of Jen but doesn’t react. To show any aggression now would be the worst thing he could do.
“So he escaped the bomb, got out of Thornhill alive, and now he’s made it here in one piece? How do we know he’s not one of those freaks who can hold the Hate?”
“He’s not,” another voice says. Matt looks around and sees Aaron Rayner standing at the top of the steps leading up to the observation deck.
“Vouch for him, can you?” Chappell asks.
“I can, as it happens,” Aaron says, and Matt slumps against the wall with relief.
“How?”
“The group he turned up at Thornhill with—they would never have gotten there if it weren’t for him. We found them holed up in a leisure center after you’d sent us scavenging around the airport, Estelle, and we tested the lot of them to make sure they were like us. It was your man here who was holding them all together. He’s no Hater; he’s just good at what he does. Whatever that is.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Moira warns. She’s remained focused on the battlefield where the fighting continues to intensify in response to the CDF activity out front.
Estelle considers her options. “You’re right. We’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’ll be watching you, though, Matthew Dunne. One step out of line and you’re history.”
Matt can’t help himself. “To be honest, Estelle, if you go through with this, there’s every chance we’ll all be history. I’m going to ask you one last time, please reconsider.”
She ignores him and turns to face Moira and Chappell. “What he’s told us changes nothing. If there are more of the enemy around here, that means there are more of them for us to kill. Moira, get out there and give ’em hell.”
“We should listen to Matt, Estelle,” Aaron says. “He knows what he’s talking about.”
Estelle’s having none of it. “He clearly knows how to look after himself, but looking after everyone else is my responsibility. We’re going to go out there now and take back everything those Hater bastards have stolen from us.”
54
The interior of the cavernous service station is filled with noise from outside, adding to the disorientation and fear of the remaining civilians. Matt’s found Tracy Barnish, as close to a friendly face as he expected to see. She’s been given access to more medical supplies than she’s used to. “It’s to patch up the troops,” she tells him, looking over her shoulder. “Don’t let them see me wasting this stuff on you.”
“Wasting it?” Matt says, indignant. “Am I in that bad a state?”
Her silence says plenty. Matt’s sitting in front of her with his shirt hitched up so she can get to his wound. He glances back and sees her face is screwed up. “This is really bad,” she says. “There’s a lot of poison in there. I’ll give you something to take the edge off the pain and get your temperature down. I’ll try to have a proper look at it later. That’s if there is a later.”
She sounds less than convinced. As if to underline her point, one of the tanks outside fires, and she steadies herself as the ground shakes. The tumultuous din inside the building mounts as the CDF advance continues.
“This might hurt,” Tracy tells him.
“It already does.”
He winces as she straps him up, and he stares down at the ground, tracing the lines between the floor tiles with his eyes in a vain attempt to distract himself from the pain and from what’s happening outside. A pair of soldier’s boots appear just in front of him, and he looks up. It’s Aaron.
“You finished with him?” he asks Tracy.
“Good as,” she answers, rolling Matt’s shirt back down.
“Good. Come with me, Matt.”
“Where to?”
“Never mind that. Just move.”
Matt follows the soldier out through the side exit between the service station and the hotel. They pause in the narrow gap between the two buildings, which offers a clear and uninterrupted view of the violence unfolding as the huge CDF offensive gets under way.
“Shouldn’t you be out there?” Matt asks.
“Probably.”
“Then why aren’t you?”
“Hedging my bets.”
Another shell is fired from the gun of one of the Challengers, then a barrage of rockets is launched from several of the defensive positions around the perimeter of the outpost. Matt walks forward to get a better view and to try to gauge the scale of what’s happening out there now. There are Haters up ahead, but they’re being easily held back at present. “It won’t last,” Matt says, scanning the horizon for any sign of the Hater forces he and Jason saw advancing. “Kill them and more will come and take their place.”
“I don’t doubt you. One way or another, the balance is going to shift. Will they run out of bodies, or will we run out of ammunition?”
“They’re not going to run out of bodies. Not from what I’ve seen.”
Aaron just grunts.
Another rocket screams overhead at a fe
rocious speed, temporarily filling the air with dry heat. It strikes its distant target and obliterates more of the enemy. But when the dust and smoke clears, it’s like it’s had no effect whatsoever. More Haters have already filled the hole that was blown in the ranks, taking the place of those who’ve been killed, marching over what’s left of their bodies.
“Come on,” Aaron says, pulling Matt toward the back of the buildings. Matt’s reluctant. The chaos on the battlefield is a strangely compelling sight.
“Settles the nerves when you can actually see what’s going on.”
“You think?”
“I do, as it happens.”
“You can stand there and gawp later. Right now, I need you to come with me.”
Matt doesn’t want to go anywhere with anyone. “Not until you tell me the real reason why you’re not fighting.”
“You said it yourself. Because we’re not going to win.”
Aaron’s honest admission takes him by surprise. The soldier picks up speed and leads him through to the sprawling parking lot compound out back. He stops suddenly, and Matt walks into the back of him. Aaron points out into the distance. There are swarms of people moving through the fields on this side of the outpost. Vehicles are beginning to clog the approach roads.
“I told you,” Matt says.
“I didn’t doubt you.”
They descend into the maze of vehicles. There are people moving down here, too, and Matt panics and backs up, worried they’re invaders, that the perimeter of the outpost has been breached. And then he recognizes one of them. “Fuck me. Is that Joseph Mallon?”
“You know him?”
“Christ, yes.”
When they get down into the parking lot, Joseph doesn’t seem as surprised as Matt. There’s little time for pleasantries and catch-ups. “Aaron said you were here,” he says. “He said you’ve seen what’s happening out there. You going to help us get out of trouble, Matt?”
Matt’s heart sinks. “What?”
“After what I heard you saying to Estelle, I figured you’d want out,” Aaron says.
“No, no … not me. I’m done. Don’t you understand? There is no way out.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“Yes. And I keep telling people, I’m through with running and hiding. There’s no point. I’m sick and I’m tired, and I only came back here to give you the heads-up. I’ll tell you everything I know, but I’m not going anywhere.”
“If you didn’t care, you never would have come back,” Joseph says. “Your mouth’s saying one thing, I reckon your heart and your head’s telling you something else.”
“I see you’ve lost none of your ability for talking bollocks.”
“I’m sure I deserve that, but please listen to me.”
“I listened to you before, remember? Look where that got us all.”
“I was wrong.”
“Too damn right you were.”
“My actions contributed to the deaths of thousands. Maybe hundreds of thousands.”
“Yeah, but I was never bothered about the hundreds of thousands. I was only ever interested in one of them. When she died, I died.”
“Go easy on the cliché, Matthew. We’ve both made mistakes and done things we regret, I’m sure, but we need to forget about that now.”
“I don’t know if I can.” Matt sighs. “Look, I don’t know if news has reached this part of Estelle’s little empire yet, but we’re fucked.”
“We get it. Thing is, you might be finished, but not everyone feels the same way,” Aaron tells him. “There are innocent people here who deserve more.”
“I don’t dispute that, but your boss has signed all our death warrants. I don’t think anything any of us does will make any difference now.”
“We need to try,” Aaron says. “We can’t just give up. We need to at least try to get people away from here. You’re an old hand at it, so I’m told.”
Déjà vu. Matt rolls his eyes and looks up into the swirling cloud overhead. “Now you’re definitely talking to the wrong man.”
“Aaron’s right,” Joseph says. “I felt the same way as you, Matthew, but we can’t just give up. I wanted to, Christ knows I wanted to, but I realize now there’s a chance I can make amends for the damage I’ve caused. Estelle seems intent on leading us into oblivion. We’re just looking for a back door to get us out of here.”
“Getting out is one thing. Getting out and staying alive is another matter entirely. Trust me, it’s worse than you think out there. This whole area is swarming with them, and—”
“If we stay here, we’re all dead,” Aaron says, cutting across him angrily.
“Do you seriously think there’s an alternative? If you leave here, you might last a few hours or days longer, but they’ll find you and kill you in the end. I’m sorry, I can’t help you. No one can.”
55
The CDF is gaining ground. Moira leads the charge, and it feels so fucking good to be out here fighting at last. All the apprehension of the days, weeks, and months leading up to this moment immediately dissipated the second she set foot on the battlefield. The men and women of the CDF know that this could be it, that the end of the war might finally be in touching distance. There will always be enemy stragglers to mop up, of course, but with the majority of them dead, things will soon feel very different. She visualizes her endgame: eradicate these Haters, find somewhere to restock and refuel, then hunt more of them out and do it all again. Lock, load, fire, repeat. Obliterate the enemy, then regroup, rebuild, and start living again.
Even Estelle’s out here, buzzing now she’s out on the front line. She’s riding on the back of a six-wheeled Wolfhound: a heavy-armored tactical support vehicle. She usurps the gunner from his position and sprays bullets into the swarming crowds of Haters with undeniable glee. The rest of the vehicle’s crew use clubs and axes to batter and bludgeon any of the enemy who avoid the gunfire and are foolish enough to get too close.
Some of the CDF militia look like they’re out-hating the Haters, such is their enthusiasm for violence. Others appear completely fucking terrified, gripped by a nervous inertia now there’s no longer any separation between them and the enemy. Yet soon even the most reticent fighter is forced into action as the two armies collide. It’s testament to how unorthodox this far-reaching war is that in the months since the rise of the Hate that split the human race in two, this is perhaps the first traditional battle to have been fought between the opposing sides. For months, the uneven balance of power has seesawed between the Changed and Unchanged. Initially, the Haters were isolated and unsure, but as their numbers rapidly grew, so did their collective confidence until they’d assumed control and the Unchanged became the hunted minority. Then, at the height of the fighting, the bombs fell and killed tens of thousands: the great leveler. It forced an unexpected and fragile equilibrium, and for a time, every individual survivor was as vulnerable as the next irrespective of their allegiance.
Both sides regrouped after the nuclear blasts, and now they face each other as equals. The Unchanged have the structure and weaponry the Haters never had, while the Haters compensate with a level of individual aggression that very few Unchanged could ever hope to match. The difference is perfectly captured in a snapshot that plays out ahead of Estelle’s Wolfhound. Six bloodthirsty Haters have two CDF militiamen cornered, but before the Haters can do what they’re instinctively driven to do and kill, a tank rolls in and obliterates the whole fucking lot of them.
The CDF offensive is moving forward with more speed and less resistance than expected. A wide swath of empty land, churned with mud and littered with bodies, has opened up between the outpost and the forward fighters, leaving the outpost as exposed as Chappell feared.
He’s alone on the mezzanine now, watching the fighting. A lone CDF soldier pounds up the stairs. “We need to strengthen the defenses, sir,” he says.
“Strengthen them with what? Anyone who can fight is already out there. There’
s only the gunners left.”
“There are plenty of people here still. We can use them in the trenches.”
“They’re civilians. They’d be fucking useless.”
“Be better than nothing, sir.”
Chappell walks across the mezzanine and looks down over the crowds of civilians. Does he have any choice? He turns back to face the soldier. “Okay, do it. Volunteers first.”
“With respect, anyone who’s going to volunteer is already out there.”
Chappell shakes his head sadly. “Then take whoever you need.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alone on the mezzanine now, he does up his jacket and checks the pistol he’s carried for weeks but never used. He knows it’s time for him to go out there, too. Steeling himself for the inevitable, he turns back to the window and watches as an armored Bulldog troop carrier cuts a swath through the carnage, its caterpillar tracks carving a graceful arc between other, less maneuverable CDF military vehicles. The grubby khaki machine motors forward, belching exhaust fumes, then straightens up and heads straight for a crowd of Hater fighters coming the other way. There must be forty or fifty of them bunched up in a pack, arrogantly dismissive of the CDF’s relative armed might. Rocks and lumps of masonry are hurled at the Bulldog, but they don’t even dent its armor, barely scratch the paintwork. Its driver keeps it moving forward at speed, plowing into the pack and forcing the enemy to scatter or die. Many dive for cover, then immediately pick themselves up and come back at the Bulldog, which slows, then stops as the driver changes direction to mop up those who are left. Some of the closest surviving fighters clamber up the front and sides of the powerful vehicle, only for the top hatches to burst open and for several of the CDF crew to emerge and start firing their SA80s into the throng. Many Haters are immediately killed, but others use the bodies of the fallen as cover. One manages to scale the back of the Bulldog unnoticed. She attacks the soldier shooting from the rear hatch, coming up behind him and grabbing his rifle from over his shoulders. He refuses to let go, and they grapple for the weapon, wrestling with each other until the CDF soldier in the front hatch shoots both of them dead. He then spins around and unloads on two more Haters trying to pull the Bulldog’s driver from her seat.