Deadrise 2: Deadwar

by Steven R. Gardner

  He stepped back into Command, feeling much better. Now that his hangover was under control he could give all of his focus and attention to defending the community. Captain’s Jimenez and Jordan both looked glanced at him then looked away.

  They know you’re a drunk. It was his fathers voice he often heard in his head these days, when he was most critical of himself. They are embarrassed for you. Worse yet, they are losing their respect for you.

  But then he would laugh at his father’s voice. Jimenez was a pothead and Jordan a borderline drunk and pain pill popper. Who was either of them to stand in judgment of him? Everyone did what they did to get by, to keep it together and it had always been that way and it probably always would. It had been the same in the Military before the deadrise, the same at the U of U campus after the deadrise and it was the same here in Rainbow Lake.

  Fuck you, old man.

  As he made his way over towards the two Captains, Colonel McReedy walked into Command. He was dressed in full combat gear and brandished an AK-47 in his hands. His face was set into a snarl, and his eyes sparkled with a madness Jenkins had never seen before. He aimed the AK-47 towards Jenkins and fired. His weapon was on single-shot and the bullet went wide, missing Jenkins by an inch. Jenkins darted back towards his office, dropping his coffee as he ran and reaching for his sidearm. Another shot rang out, the one splintering the wall ahead of Jenkins.

  Two pistol shot rang out, followed by three more rifle shots, all in quick succession. But they weren’t aimed at Jenkins. As he reached the door of his office and opened it he peered behind him to see the Mac had focused hi attention on the two Captains. Jordan was still sitting at his post, his face wide with shock, but Captain Jimenez lay on the ground, his chest full of blood, his arm reaching for his fallen pistol, his face twisted with pain. His eyes met Jenkins, widened with fear and desperation and false hope. And then Colonel McReedy stood over him and put three more bullets into his chest, killing him.

  Instead of stepping into the office and closing the door Jenkins drew his 9mm sidearm. Mac had now focused his attention on Captain Jordan, who finally began to scramble for safety, but he was moving too slow. Jenkins raised his pistol and aimed for the back of Mac’s head. Just as he squeezed the trigger Mac moved, and the bullet hit Mac behind the left shoulder. The Kevlar of his combat vest absorbed most of the impact but the force of the blow spun him around, causing him to abort his attack on Captain Jordan. Jenkins fired two more quick shots, both drilling Mac in the side. Again the armored vest absorbed the bullet but the impact was tremendous, knocking Mac to the floor where he rolled around in pain, clumsily trying to bring the AK-47 under control one-handedly.

  “Drop it Mac!” Jenkins screamed. He didn’t want to blow his friends brains out. Despite what the bastard had done to the poor kid Jimenez. He stepped forward and kicked Mac in the stomach, the toe of his combat boot digging deep, shattering a few ribs. Mac’s body crumpled around his foot, and he could hear the bastard gasping for air. Jenkins brought the butt of his pistol down on the back of Mac’s head, right behind the ear and he withered into unconsciousness.

  A trio of guard burst in, weapons drawn, ready for action.

  “Stand down!” Jenkins barked. They quickly surveyed the situation and complied. “Colonel McReedy went crazy. He killed Captain Jimenez before I could disable him.”

  “We should kill him!” snarled one of the guards. The stripes on his uniform marked him as a Private. Jenkins didn’t remember ever seeing the kid before, but things had been moving in a whirlwind even since Matt and Susan’s deaths.

  “No! I want him for questioning. Take him to the Hospital. Tell Doc Norris to sedate him, make sure he’s ok then you get him down into the stockade.” Jenkins looked at the soldier’s nametag…DeMarco. “Its your number one priority. Do you understand Private DeMarco?”

  “Yes sir, General!” The Private saluted him and summoned his squad mates inside to carry Mac out.

  Jenkins turned to look at Captain Jimenez’ body. A pool of blood had spread beneath him, and his eyes were still wide with fear, his face locked into a grimace of pain. He knew what he had to do next. It would only be a few minutes before the body reanimated as a zombie. Jenkins looked up at Captain Jordan, who still stood there, mute with shock.

  “What the hell do you think got into him?” Jenkins asked, but the Captain just shrugged his shoulders dumbly. Jenkins looked back down at Jimenez’ corpse. “Fuck.” He muttered. His 9mm was still in his hand, and he slowly took aim at the corpses head. But before Jenkins could squeeze the trigger, shots rang out from somewhere in the house…

  CHAPTER 47

  Wednesday, June 26, 2002

  Rainbow Lake, UT

  3:05 AM

  At long last, after over a year of scurrying and simpering around the pompous bastard Jenkins like a dog, his Master, Mordecai Necrotura had activated him…

  With but a thought transmitted via his third eye implant the weak, sniveling librarian that everyone knew was gone and a fully trained Fedayeen Necrotura had replaced him. The persona of Guy Livingston, librarian and museum curator had always been such, carefully crafted by Mordecai Necrotura over the years, making the cowardly weakling one of the most respected and trusted members of the town of Kittewa before the deadrise and that same trust and respect had gotten him elected to the Rainbow Lake Council. And from time to time Mordecai would activate him for an assassination, or as a special operative in some nefarious scheme, and when the job was finished his mind would fragment again, compartmentalize within itself, burying the Holy Templar deep beneath the surface of the Guy Livingston Facade. As a Fedayeen Necrotura he had no name, only blind devotion to his lord and God. He had no need to distinguish himself from other Fedayeen because as a sleeper assassin, he never worked with them. He knew himself simply as Fedayeen Necrotura.

  ‘Kill them!’ His Master’s command had activated him. ‘Kill them and retrieve the child!’

  Silently he slipped out of bed, got dressed then donned the combat vest that had rested in Guy Livingston’s closet, unused until now. Besides the armor the vest provided it also held three holstered 9mm pistols, six spare clips and a trio of grenades. He reached out with his mind and felt the ping of two other third eye signals. They in turn felt his, and all three of them telepathically coordinated with one another and set about their mission. He drew on of the pistols, checked the load and barrel then exited the room, which was on the second floor. He came up behind a guard almost instantly. He moved up and put a bullet right through the back of the guard’s head.

  He quickly holstered his pistol and reached down and took the guards AK-47 and the three extra magazines he carried. He could hear voices from several directions; the rooms down the hallway behind him, down the stairs from the first floor, up the stairs from the third. He had his list of targets. Most of them would be upstairs on the third floor, with the child. He raced don the hall to the stairwell and headed up. Two guards stepped into view, weapons ready.

  “Councilman?” One of them said awkwardly, obviously surprised to see Councilman Guy Livingston in a combat rig carrying an AK-47.

  “Downstairs! Quickly! The General needs you!” He kept running up the stairs, his weapon pointed down. The two guards looked at one another, hesitant. He quickly raised his weapon and let loose a ten round burst that cut across both guards chests sending them tumbling down the stairs past him. He reached the third floor landing. The hallway was empty. The two guards he had just dispatched were all that had been assigned to the third floor.

  An alarm started blaring through the house, loud and obnoxious.

  He felt the touch of his Master in his mind, like a bolt of current that energized him… Gave him strength…

  ‘You are close my child. Very close… The child is in the room furthest down the hall. Be swift. Be merciless to any that cross your path. You are your Masters blade, plunged deep into his enemy’s heart ready to cleave it in two. The child! Take possession of the chi
ld and bring it to me. But Beware! My avenging angel, Gabriel, has fallen from my grace. He has converted four of your Fedayeen brothers’ into Sentinels that obey his every command. Two more have been killed and will reanimate as zombies! He intends to murder the child and create as many Sentinels as he can control before returning to Necrotura Island to try and kill me and destroy the New Humanity.’

  ‘I shall never let that happen, Master.’

  ‘Do not fail me my child. Bring glory unto yourself and your God.’

  ‘So you speak it my lord, so it shall be done.’ His Master broke contact, his telepathic presence flittering away like tickling feathers.

  He reached out with is mind…feeling the presence of a Fedayeen out in the woods, eluding both Sentinels and Rainbow Lake gunmen. The other two were closer, one even inside the Main House, on the first floor. She informed him that the General was not dead, and that guards were closing in on her. She would detonate the suicide pack embedded in her combat vest when they finally took her down but until that time she would provide him with as much distraction as possible. Gunfire erupted down below, the sound filtering up through the stairwell.

  He broke contact with her and began down the hallway towards the last room. One of the doors began to open and he quickly put three rounds through it at chest height. He reached the door to the child’s room and tried the knob. It was locked. A sneer spread across his face and he kicked the door in, breaking the lock. Two bullets slammed into his chest. The combat vest stopped the penetration, but could do very little against the impact force of two AK-47 bullets…he staggered back, barely able to stand. Another bullet ripped through his right knee, blowing it apart and dropping him to the ground in a heap of pain. He looked into the room to see his attacker…David Young. The kid was crouched down on one knee, AK-47 braced in his hands. The Fedayeen still held his own AK-47 in his left hand. He tried to raise it up to fire but the kid beat him to it, butting two bullets through his left bicep that practically blew his arm off. Only a few bits of muscle, sinew and fabric from his shirt were holding the arm on. He felt his body begin to slip into shock, but he compartmentalized, shutting off those receptors that fed him pain. He fell onto his back and reached for a grenade with is right hand, but David had charged up on him and brought the butt of his rile crashing down on the Fedayeen’s face, knocking him unconscious. As he sank into darkness, he felt his Master’s presence in his mind once again.

  ‘You cursed dog! Your failure has cost you your life!’

  ‘Yes Master! Kill me… Please?’

  ‘Never, dog. You will die by fates whimsy. Will it be from blood loss, or will you survive to die by this community’s justice? It matter’s not to me, but until that time you will serve as my eyes and ears within their midst.’

  ‘Please Master? I served you loyally!’

  ‘And you failed me, dog. Now bother me with your whimpering no more! Go back to the shadows. Return Guy Livingston to control.’

  The Fedayeen was helpless against his Masters will, and his mind folded deeper in on itself, fragmenting into a thousand pieces that scattered among the now re-emerging Guy Livingston persona…

  Templar Mel was trapped in the Kitchen, crouched down below the counter. On the far side three guards lay dead, but two more had taken up position across the dining room in the back stairwell that led to the basement and would cut her down the second she showed herself. In front of her, across the kitchen was the foyer, and another pair of guard took cover there in the main stairwell and the living room archway. She was nearly out of ammo, and it wouldn’t be long before the guards figured it out. Her puppet, Colonel McReedy had failed in his bid to kill the General. All that time dominating and taking control of him, wasted. But her life would not be. She knew she was going to die, and she accepted it…welcomed it even. Her life had been a difficult one, strife with physical and sexual and mental abuse, and she had turned to the dark, arcane arts to try and soothe the fire that raged inside when the Christian God had failed her. But nothing had been able to fill the void, until she met Master Necrotura. He had entered her mind and touched her soul, calming the turmoil within and focusing her mind and spirit into a laser beam of unconditional loyalty and submission to her new Lord and God, Mordecai Necrotura. A smile spread across her face and she leaned back, closed her eyes and muttered a silent prayer to her Savior, Lord and God Mordecai Necrotura before triggering the high explosives that lined her suicide vest…

  The explosion destroyed the kitchen and dining room, the shockwave and debris pulverizing the pair of guards in the back stair well. It also blew holes through the floor and ceiling, exposing the basement and second floor. The blast rattled the entire house and everyone in it and shattered dozen of windows on all three floors…

  CHAPTER 48

  Wednesday, June 26, 2002

  Rainbow Lake, UT

  3:26 AM

  From his position out in the forest, Gabriel heard the blast and knew it for exactly what it was. Mordecai’s Templars had failed to take the child and were now using their suicide vests. This brought a smile to Gabriel’s leathery face. Let them destroy themselves and soften up the community defenses in the process. All the easier for he and his four Sentinels to infiltrate the community and kill the child.

  His theories had proven correct. All four of the Sentinels were mindless automaton killing machines that obeyed him without question. He could feel them with his mind, knew heir exact position and could even see through their eyes if he really concentrated. But that was hard. Taxing on his senses and energy. He surveyed them with pride as they stood before him, awaiting his orders. All four were still clad in their Templar battle gear, which consisted of an armored vest, fatigues, combat boots and webgear with four holstered 9mm pistols, spare ammunition, grenades, a large combat knife as well as other odds and ends. Each Sentinel also held and AK-47, with three spare clips on its webgear.

  ‘Now!’ He commanded them. As a unit they turn and begin moving north towards the Rainbow Lake perimeter. He falls in with them, all of them linked and coordinated through Gabriel’s mind. They would incapacitate anyone they came across, but not kill them. Gabriel would expel a slug to infect them, transform them into a Sentinel, subservient and obedient to him. There were hundreds of humans in the Rainbow Lake community… His army would grow exponentially. His head swam as he imagined the possibilities with two, maybe three hundred Sentinels at his command. The Power he would wield. Mordecai Necrotura would be helpless to stop him. And once he had killed him and taken the reigns of his empire what conquests would await him? He knew there were other, powerful human factions out in the world, and the thought of dominating them, slaughtering and butchering… It was enough to make his senses spin.

  But Gabriel was no fool, and he knew there was an excellent chance that he and his Sentinels would be destroyed. But Gabriel had no intention of fighting to the death. If the situation appeared hopeless, he would flee back into the woods to fight another day. Gabriel was ambitious and power hungry, but he was also patient. He knew on an instinctual that outside of being physically killed he was immortal. He would live for thousands of years, never aging, never decaying, while humans lived short lives. He knew he could plan long term, plotting against his enemy’s great grandchildren for sport, but first the child must be destroyed. While he would not fight to the death he would sacrifice every one of his Sentinels to kill the child.

  And then an odd thought came to him. What if he were to implant the child with a slug. He knew it would not become an ordinary Sentinel, but a Hybrid, like Mordecai Necrotura, and the one called Zack. If he could create a Hybrid, in infant form, and raise it up as his own, in his image. How powerful and savage a creature it would be…and it would be loyal and subservient to him. But what if he couldn’t control it? He knew the child would one day be a powerful psychic, more powerful than even Mordecai Necrotura and if not controlled or eliminated would be a grave threat to him. As his squad of Sentinels crossed the Rainbow La
ke perimeter Gabriel was undecided as to whether he would kill the child, or convert it to a Hybrid…

  The five Sentinels converged on the nearest guard post and a short volley of gunfire was exchanged with the trio of soldiers who held it before they were taken down and implanted with slugs generated from Gabriel’s body. He watched with fascination as their human bodies were consumed and transformed by the virus.

  Just then he felt a strong mental pulse, like a searchlight sweeping across a dark field, pinging him like radar. To his surprise it was not Mordecai Necrotura, though nearly as powerful. There was a semi-familiarity to it: tantalizingly Krylok yet wholly human.

  The Hybrid. Spawned by the Krylok and free from their control, it moved about the globe in an attack shuttle, stolen from the Krylok that created it. Mordecai Necrotura despised the creature, hated and envied it at the same time. He wanted to see it dead yet craved its power and knowledge. And it was coming here, to Rainbow Lake. He knew it was allies of the humans and would fight to protect the child. It would only be a matter of minutes before it arrived. Gabriel and his Sentinels would not be able to assault the house and take the child in that amount of time and they would be caught out in the open and the Hybrid would be able to unleash the attack shuttles weapons against them.

  He gave the mental command for his Sentinels to retreat, melting away into the forest and regrouping several miles away. There was no hurray to kill the child. After all, it was only a child, not even a week old. It would be years before it’s abilities would develop. Much better to fall back and regroup, expand his army and prepare for a real invasion. Gabriel slung his AK-47 over his shoulder and began running southwest at full speed…