Emma: Part Three

by Lolita Lopez

  EMMA

  Part Three

  OUTPOST NINE

  LOLITA LOPEZ

  Night Works Books

  College Station, Texas

  Copyright © 2015 by Lolita Lopez

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Night Works Books

  3515-B Longmire Drive #103

  College Station, Texas 77845

  www.roxierivera.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Cover Photograph © 2013 The Killion Group, INC.

  EMMA: Part Three (Outpost Nine)/Lolita Lopez. — 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-1-63042-041-3

  For the Viking and Moon Baby

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  About

  Backlist

  1 Chapter One

  The thwap of helicopter blades echoed in the darkness of night. In the distance, flashes of lightning lit up the black sky with an extraordinary light show. Storms were rolling in from the west. According to the meteorological reports and radar, the storms promised torrential rainfall and high winds. Ever since the great purges in the cities and the bombings that had facilitated them, Mother Nature had taken a dark and twisted turn. She seemed just as desperate as the survivors of the global pandemic to rid herself of the disease and horror still rampant upon her.

  Twice, the helicopter carrying their crew had hit turbulent pockets of air so violent that the vibrations rattled Max’s bones. His teeth ached from knocking together, and his injury sensors noted a deep bruise to his upper arm from the impact with the door caused when he had tried to brace himself. Having survived seven different helicopter crashes, he wasn’t afraid of going down again, but he sure as hell would prefer not to add anymore scars to his body.

  Radio traffic ricocheted around his headset, and he struggled to focus, his mind racing with tactics and strategy and the endless what-ifs that awaited them. The reports from the first units on the ground at the explosion site weren’t good. Someone had parked two trucks packed with fuel barrels and projectiles in front of the main saloon and the most popular whorehouse in Purgatory. The explosion had leveled most of the small town, killed dozens and hurt many more. It was a damned bloodbath.

  No one knew who was behind it yet, but Max had a sick feeling twisting his gut. This felt familiar and like the work of an old enemy that was supposed to have been wiped out and dead. Just thinking of Faction and the death and destruction they had caused sickened him. This all felt like a bad fucking dream, and he desperately wanted to wake up.

  “Shit.” Pyro tapped Max’s shoulder to draw his attention. “Will you look at that?”

  Leaning toward the window for a closer look, Max could see the bright orange glow of a massive fire lighting up the horizon. “Damn.”

  “That thunderstorm blowing in might be their best bet at saving some of the town,” Pyro reasoned as he gestured for one of his teammates to open the door of the helicopter. “It’s gonna be a long night for us, though. Slogging through all that rain and mud? Dodging hailstones? Fuck.”

  When one of the Zed squad boys threw open the side panel of the helicopter, the acrid stench of burning fuel and ash filled the cabin. The fires from the explosion were burning incredibly hot. Without any fire trucks, the flames would have to burn themselves out unless that rainstorm did the trick. But the high winds and the possibility of hail and lightning promised a rough and uncomfortable night for the survivors.

  Finn, their pilot, swung the helicopter around and Max got his first good look at the destruction. Like Emma, the citizens of Purgatory had erected an electrified fence to protect themselves. The perimeter fence had fallen over in some areas and sagged badly in others. Judging by the swaths of darkness down below, their generators and battery stations were engulfed by fire or had been destroyed by the initial explosion. Without any way to keep out the zombies surely lurking in the darkness, they were screwed.

  Yellow flares marked a loose perimeter. Green flares guided the pilots to a landing zone. Red flares warned of danger. In the traffic coming across his headset, Max heard Rafe ordering starbursts, the nicknames for the small bird-sized drones fired high in the sky that would hover and provide much-needed light.

  By the time Finn set them down at a safe distance, Max was having full-blown fucking flashbacks to the earliest days of the war. He muscled them down and slammed shut the mental door to the compartment in the far corner of his brain where he kept them. He whacked the shoulder of the skilled pilot who had brought them in safely. “Thanks for the ride, Chief.”

  Finn gave him a thumbs-up. “Good luck, sir.”

  “Yep.” Max hopped out of the helicopter with the rest of the team he had tagged along with and kept his head low, ducking to avoid the rotors. The wash of the blades stirred up a blast of air that carried the stench of burning flesh and worse. The gag-worthy stink really brought back some shitty memories. Caught in the swirling vortex of ash and fume, Max closed his eyes and breathed it in while allowing those painful, horror-filled memories to momentarily consume him. They set him on edge and reminded him to stay sharp tonight.

  Despite his higher rank, he let Pyro and the second Zed team take the lead. Rafe and Butler had already brought their team in as part of the first response wave. Jack had landed with his small reactionary force that had escorted in the medical team so they could evac the most seriously wounded. Both teams were now clearing the way for a second med team and ground evacuation convoy that was still an hour or more from arrival.

  His weapon at the ready, he took up a rear position and scanned their surroundings. He would put hot lead in the first shadow that moved. When they reached the perimeter of the town, Max got an up close and personal look at the pure fucking carnage that the bombing had left behind. Three-quarters of the buildings, most of them rather simple, had been obliterated by the explosions or were now engulfed in raging fires.

  Crumpled and dented pieces of metal, some as big as car doors, littered the main street. Furniture and home goods were strewn everywhere. A mattress smoldered atop a field of broken glass and wooden planks. When Max felt something crunch under his boot, he glanced down and realized he had stepped on a dinner plate. Bits and pieces of these people’s lives had been tossed about and blasted to bits.

  As a seasoned soldier who knew better than to allow himself to be distracted, he deliberately overlooked the mangled bodies and the dying wounded. Some cyborgs actively disengaged the emotional sensors implanted in their brains, but he had always found a little fear made him sharper and faster. Tonight, he needed to be on his game. Emma was counting on him to come home to her alive.

  Moving steadily toward their rendezvous point, he decided that tonight had to be the last night he and Jack went outside the wire at the same time. Men who shared wives and families were allowed to request exemption from sim
ultaneous duty. Emma belonged to them now. She was their responsibility to protect and provide for so they had to be more careful.

  Max, you good?

  The corners of his mouth twitched as Jack pinged him like a worrying mother. Yeah. Heading your way. How’s it look on your end?

  Jack didn’t answer immediately. Like Houston after the SICO teams lit it up.

  That answer brought back even worse memories. The lies. The cover-ups. The conspiracies. The death.

  After the outbreak had spread worldwide and proved impossible to contain, many governments around the world had simply chosen to cut their losses and bomb the infected cities. As hysteria gripped the worldwide population, nuclear bombs soon became the weapon of choice for burning out the pathogen in heavily diseased populations. The few nations with cyborg armies had managed to survive a little longer without opting for such drastic measures, but in the end, the answer was always the same: Incinerate to survive.

  Emma’s tale of her young grandparents fleeing the city fit the timeline and his memories of those bleak days. Did she realize he had been alive back then? It hadn’t ever occurred to him until that very moment that Emma might not even know how cyborgs aged…

  When their small team met up with the others, they found coordinated chaos. He spotted Tripwire, a SICO explosives expert on loan to the Zed squad, decked out in his special gear as he checked for more explosives in suspicious spots the team had marked. Pyro would soon join him in that duty. With the practice of years of drills and combat experience, the rest of the team fanned out and got to work.

  The humans had their own version of an emergency response team. After seeing Emma in action, he never should have doubted these Originals. They used makeshift stretchers to evacuate their wounded brethren and injured cyborgs. The medical convoy run by the Alvarez family had already arrived on scene. Smaller trucks mounted with guns had been parked near them. Cargo trucks painted with the KEATON ARMS logo were idling nearby to take the walking wounded and the displaced to safer lodgings for the night.

  No. Not just for the night. Knowing what he did of this area, these rescued folks would likely be welcomed into new homes with open arms. Life here was hard and unpredictable, and these humans never gave up and never surrendered. They picked up the pieces, banded together and survived.

  Lowering his weapon, he let some of the tension leave his body as he took in the established perimeter security. While the Zed squad and Jack’s reaction team were the most heavily armed, the humans were the stronger force in numbers. Armed with rifles and shotguns, the men and women, some bloodied and scorched, stood ready to fight whatever might still be lurking in the darkness. Snippets of radio traffic told him more of them were coming to the scene to help. It seemed Emma’s Chain was alive and well and responding like a well-coordinated militia.

  If we ever get on the wrong side of these people, we’re fucked, Max.

  Glancing toward the water tower where Jack had taken up a sniper position, he nodded. Copy that.

  Hearing Rafe’s booming voice, Max drifted away from the perimeter and followed the sound. He found the Zed squad leader talking to a tall human male built like a cyborg. They clearly had some sort of rapport judging by their easy way of talking.

  The bearded man wore his hair long but pulled back into a low ponytail. With a rifle holstered and slung over one shoulder and a shotgun resting on the other, he had the look of an outdoorsman about him. He was the sort of man who was comfortable living in this new world. The sudden thought of a man like that being the perfect male for Emma hit him hard.

  “Major,” Rafe greeted him with a tight salute. “This is Luke Keaton.”

  It wasn’t often Max could look eye-to-eye with a human. It felt strange, and he wondered what sort of stock these Keatons came from. Remembering the reports Rafe had filed about the Zed team crossing paths with the Keaton family after the attack on Emma’s farm, he decided to diplomatically ignore the not so good things included in the file. “We appreciated the help you gave the Zed team last week.”

  “Hell, we’re all on the same side, right?” Luke sized him up before reluctantly extending his hand. Max gripped it in a tight shake. “So you’re one of the cyborgs who carried off Emma Ramirez, huh?”

  He released Luke’s hand. “I wouldn’t characterize the situation in quite that way.”

  “Well if you take offense to that characterization, I recommend you steer well clear of that little wildcat I call my baby sister,” Luke warned. “Leila’s prowling around here somewhere with a shotgun in one hand and the leash to her hellhound in the other. She ain’t happy about the way you took her friend.”

  “Your sister is more than welcome to come to the Outpost any time she likes to visit Emma.”

  Luke’s mouth settled into a grim line. “The odds of my sister stepping one foot onto that base without at least two of her brothers as armed escort are exactly zero. Daddy will start a goddamn war if any of you cyborgs try to take his precious little princess as one of your baby breeders.”

  Max recoiled at the description. “Don’t ever call Emma that again in my presence—or you’ll be swallowing your teeth. Understand?”

  Luke cracked a smartass grin. “I can see why Emma chose you.”

  Turning to Rafe, Max asked, “What’s the status of the evacuation?”

  “Seventeen went out on the first dustoff. We’ve got another twenty-four—no, twenty-six—who need to go on the first medical convoys back to the CASH. That leaves another twenty-three who are walking wounded but able to carry weapons.” He paused. “The death count is four higher since my last update.”

  Thirty-three. Shit. “Civilians?”

  “Sixty-three dead. Forty-seven wounded. I’m told a third of them need to be seen by the Outpost medical staff, but we’ve only been able to convince four or five of them to accept our help. The most critical were rushed out of here to the small clinic in New Town.” Rafe reached into a pocket on his vest and unwrapped a piece of gum. He’d always been a nervous chewer. “The rest will be heading out on the Keaton trucks later tonight.”

  Luke scratched at his jaw. “This could turn into a real fucking goat rope quick. New moon.” He pointed toward the dark sky above. “It’s dark as shit out on the road. We’ve got a storm rolling in and a few spots along the way are low and wash out in the rain. Plus all this damn noise from the explosion and response draws the Biters. This area is pretty clean and well-patrolled by Purgatory’s militia, but all it takes is one or two loners getting through the downed fence, chomping on some poor bastard’s neck and we’ve got an outbreak.”

  The mere mention of outbreak made Max’s chest tighten painfully. He had standing orders for such a possibility—and it wasn’t pretty.

  “Once we get out to no-man’s land,” Luke continued, “we’re exposed.”

  “I’ll make sure you have air support. We’ll clear out the wounded, get your convoy ready to go and ride escort to New Town. Between the Zed teams and birds, we’ll get you there safely.”

  “Much obliged. We usually have enough manpower to handle a job like this, but three of my brothers are on a salvage and delivery job. We’re short six trucks and twenty-seven men.”

  Max wondered how many other people knew the Keatons were low on men.

  As if reading his mind, Luke nodded as he scanned their smoldering surroundings. “I know what you’re thinking, Major. It crossed my mind, too. Our family compound is situated right in the triangle between Purgatory, New Town and Borden’s Crossing. We don’t bill ourselves as a peacekeeping force but…”

  “I understand.” A million thoughts raced through Max’s head as he tried to figure out all the angles. Who would want to blow up Purgatory? Why? What did they hope to gain? Was this someone who wanted to target the cyborgs who visited the town on weekly leave or was it someone with a grudge against the Keaton family? Was this a power play among the humans? A scuffle for power? Or was it something far, far worse?

  Luke
unhooked a small, dented metal bottle from his belt and took a drink before offering it to Max. “Water? It’s clean and straight from our well.”

  “I’m good.” Trying to figure out how big the Keaton family was, Max asked, “Just how many brothers do you have?”

  “There’s seven of us Keaton kids. I’m the oldest. Leila’s the youngest. There are five brothers between us. Lane and Lance are already here.” He gestured to two tall men, both in their early twenties, who were helping load wounded and shaken civilians into their trucks. “And, yeah, before you ask, we’re all from the same mom.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “Everyone asks,” Luke replied. “Can’t blame them for being curious. How many families do you know with seven healthy kids who made it to adulthood and all of them from the same mama?”

  “Good genes, fresh air, lots of exercise, plenty of protein and early access to firearms,” an older man, not quite as tall as Luke, chimed in as he strode toward them. Dressed in cargo pants and a plaid shirt, he had that same easy outdoorsman swagger as his son. “That’s my secret to growing them big and keeping them safe.” He whacked his son on the back before introducing himself. “Laird Keaton.”

  “Major Cardwell.” He shook the man’s hand and noted the firm, confident grip. “I was telling your son that we appreciate the help you’ve given us. We’d like to encourage ties between our two communities.”

  “I’m sure you would,” Laird replied with a bit of a sarcastic edge. Glancing at his son, he asked, “Where the hell is your sister?”

  Luke’s face registered surprise. “I thought she was with you.”

  Rafe stepped back into the conversation. “She volunteered to take two of our scouts outside the wire.”

  “She did what?” Laird blew up like any father would at the prospect of his child volunteering for such a mission.

  “She’ll be safe. Butch and Butler will die before they let any harm come to her.”