Banshee Screams

by Clay Griffith

  Nicolai looked out through the doorway. His face showed very unpresidential alarm. "Very well. Then I formally request political asylum."

  "Shut your mouth!" Debbi yelled. "My God, Ross was right. You do like to hear yourself talk. Back up and get on the ground! Now!"

  "You must close that door," Nicolai said as he backed up. "This town is in great danger." He signaled his guards to lie on the ground and he went grudgingly to one knee with his hands raised.

  She stooped and tossed the Vanguard weapons far out of reach. "If anybody even twitches, it's going to be ugly."

  "Arrest me!" Nicolai shouted. "But take me now. Get me away from here! They're coming for me!"

  The Reaper started to his feet. He froze, staring intently behind Debbi with a look of fear that was unnatural and unnerving on his usually confident face. She raised her pistol at him in warning, but then heard sounds behind her.

  Debbi turned to see five soldiers slamming through the door at a run. As they barreled into the city, they kept pulling the triggers of their pulse rifles, but were out of ammunition. They wore tattered uniforms. She easily recognized them as zombies, but they weren't the locals. Undead soldiers wearing the remnants of old UN uniforms.

  Debbi put a shot through one's forehead. It staggered, but continued toward her. She backed up and fired again. This time the shell tore off the side of its head. It paused, as if catching its breath. Then it kept coming.

  The Ranger felt a pricking inside her brain. Unlike the battering, clawed fist of the Skinny or the deft manipulation of Hallow, this was an awkward, palsied probing. A surge of anger welled up in her and this rage blocked the tapping sensation.

  Debbi popped the nearest zombie with her black gun attachment. It froze in its tracks. Pleased, she shot two more. They too halted in mid-step. One of those undead already had a gaping head wound and it crashed to the ground.

  The remaining two were suddenly on her. Or rather, they were trying to claw past with no apparent interest in her. They were hardwired to get Nicolai. The two rotting things flailed at her and scrambled to pass. Debbi angrily kneed one of the stinking troopers in the gut and brought the butt of her weapon down on the back of its head. She heard a soft pop as the gun cracked skull. Fresh blood welled from her lacerated leg due to her exertions, but she wouldn't stop. The second zombie snapped its chipped, yellow teeth at her. She shoved it away and fired a black needle into its face. It fell. She needled the first one as it struggled to stand, even with its now lopsided head.

  The first two she had needled suddenly surged back to life and rushed at her. She fired standard ammo into one's head. It dropped to the ground like a sack of rotten potatoes. The last zombie came at her without fear. She shakily backed up and fired again.

  The slug hit the thing in the shoulder. It spun completely around and still lunged headlong at her. Debbi stumbled aside and it fell flat. The young Ranger stomped a booted heel down on its back and put a bullet through the back of its brain. All the undead soldiers lay still and finally dead.

  "That's right!" she shouted. "You zombies are in my town now!" Her breath was nothing more than harsh, jagged heaves. Sweat poured off her despite the cool night air. She laughed uncontrollably out loud and then looked toward Nicolai.

  He was gone. As were his bodyguards.

  "Oh crap." Debbi staggered slightly from near exhaustion.

  "Dallas!" she heard from behind.

  She swung around. Ross was standing in the doorway, his tall form filling the gate, duster blowing out behind him, cool steel eyes watching her.

  "Ross?" She took a step. Then she doubted it, all this time without him, left alone to face the horrors. He no longer seemed real to her, as if he was just a fragment of her imagination, a last minute plea for him to be fighting at her side.

  "Yeah, it's me," he said simply as he came forward.

  "You're alive!" She ran to Ross, her pain forgotten, her soul lifting. She impulsively threw her arms around him.

  But his arms didn't enfold her. He just stood there. "Of course I'm alive. What'd you think?"

  "I don't know. I just . . . what are you doing here? How did you get through the fighting?" She stepped back, her arms falling away to lay limp at her sides. She was confused and hurt. Partially embarrassed at her outburst, she looked down for a moment.

  "I came with the fighting." Ross indicated the dead zombies on the ground. "You need to take it easy on our new allies. They just stomped the Reapers for us."

  "What?" Debbi stepped back from the unresponsive Ross. Things were happening too fast. Her fatigued brain could barely hold a cohesive thought.

  General Quantrill appeared behind Ross. Debbi instinctively raised her rifle. Ross swatted it down with enough force to knock it from her grip. It hurt.

  "No!" Ross yelled.

  She stared at Ross, stunned. The ache in her hand resurfaced, still sore from her fight with the monster. Her gaze shifted to the dead man standing beside Ross. It was the same dead man they had surveyed at the Red River. A dead syker with other dead sykers. What the hell was going on? And why was Ross with Quantrill?

  The decaying General studied the dead troopers sprawled on the dusty street then glared at Debbi. "Did you kill my people?"

  Debbi glared back, afraid to show fear or the confusion she felt. "They attacked me. So they're dead."

  "You allowed Nicolai to escape," Quantrill stated acidly.

  "He got away," she retorted, finding it distasteful to respond to this thing's questions.

  Quantrill snapped, "Without your interference, Ranger, I would've had him. And I could have crushed the Reapers once and for all. But now Nicolai is free to reform his army and endanger the planet again."

  Debbi shook her head in disbelief over the while situation.

  Ross asked Quantrill, "Can't you scan for him?"

  "No. The Legionnaires who were fixed on him are gone now. Thanks to your Ranger. We can only search the town before he escapes."

  Ross raised his hand. It trembled slightly. "I wouldn't do that right now, General. My people are still on edge. And they have black guns. We don't want to spark any costly firefights at this point."

  Quantrill grunted with begrudging agreement. His eyes darted to Debbi's holstered Dragoon and up to her face.

  Debbi croaked, her voice strained, "What the hell is going on? Where did all these . . . sykers come from?"

  Ross ignored her question and extended his hand to Debbi. "General Quantrill, this is Debbi Dallas, one of my Colonial Rangers. Dallas, General Garrett Quantrill, commander-in-chief of the Reformed Syker Legion. And our new ally."

  Quantrill nodded curtly to Debbi. She unconsciously focused on the gap in his rotting face where his teeth showed through. He noticed her gaze and angrily pulled back. At the same time, three more zombies in the tattered uniform of the old Syker Legion emerged from the smoke of battle that drifted through the door and over the wall.

  One of the new arrivals, in a captain's uniform, presented Quantrill with a bundle of cloth. The General let it cascade from his hand to the ground. It was Nicolai's Banshee Free State flag ripped from the tank.

  Quantrill grinned. "Thank you, Captain Marat. And so it ends. Captain Ross, I'm sure you're glad to see the end of the tyranny this flag represents."

  Ross glanced the flag up and down, seemingly lost for a moment. Then he said, "Step in, General. I'll show you to my office. You can set up your command post there."

  Debbi gaped as the zombie officers filed past her. Her nostrils clogged with their stench. She blocked Ross with her bleeding arm, but she could muster nothing more than a silent, dumfounded look as she pointing back at Quantrill.

  Ross said, "They're here to help us."

  "What are they? Where have you been?"

  "I'll tell you everything later." He screwed up his face as if in pain. "Pull all the black guns from the Rangers. It's over, Dallas. It's a new day in Temptation."

  She stared at Ross as he stepped past her
and fell in line silently behind Quantrill and his undead staff.

  A chill went up her spine.

  The Legion waited motionless on the desert outside Temptation. They had not moved in two days as if they'd been turned off with a switch. Some squads had been sent to harry the Reaper retreat, but the vast majority of the undead army stood like statues on the windswept plain beyond the walls of the city. They were barely a quarter the size of the Reaper army that attacked Temptation, yet they had sliced through them without trouble. Undead sykers. It would have been an inhuman combination too horrible to contemplate if they were not here already.

  It was night. Debbi stood alone in the south gate tower watching the motionless corpses below and pondering the many frightful possibilities. She switched her weight from one leg to the other in an effort to relieve the ache. The stench from below was overpowering even with the brisk wind.

  The only noises Debbi heard were the sounds of the wind rippling through the Legionnaires' ragged uniforms and fluttering the torches set around the guard tower. The wind again held the same eerie sensation as the night she destroyed the monster. It pounded against her like incessant waves.

  She pulled her collar tight against the frigid air.

  "Hey, Dallas."

  She jerked around to see Stew climbing through the access hatch into the tower. Catching herself, she winced and put out a steadying arm on the wall. She nodded a greeting and went back to surveying the horrible scene below with a calming breath.

  Stew leaned on the wall next to her. "Paying homage to our liberators?"

  Debbi responded, but only to ask, "Everything go all right?"

  "Fine." He slid his firearm from the holster. A black gun attachment gleamed along the barrel. "I doled out black guns to all Rangers and militiamen. Those militiamen who were left anyway." He looked at the black gun and asked, "How many of these things do we have?"

  Debbi eyed him suspiciously.

  "Just asking." Stew reholstered his weapon.

  "It's better if only I know how many and where they are now."

  "Okay." Stew watched her face from the side. It was stiff and unmoving, frozen into an emotionless mask, still bruised and scratched. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she had changed after Ross had returned. Battered, but not broken. She had taken on a terrible burden. He felt a surge of pride and sadness watching her. He would stand beside her, no matter what happened in the future.

  The former Jesuit priest hesitated, but then said, "I saw Ross today." He saw her flinch just slightly. "He asked if you were on duty and I said no. Told him you were still recuperating."

  "Thanks. I am." Debbi brushed back some hair with her hand. She hoped Stew didn't notice it was trembling. "I can't bear to be in the office right now. Was Quantrill there?"

  Stew nodded bitterly. "Yeah. He and his staff were strutting around like they own the place."

  "They do. But that doesn't mean they don't stink."

  Stew glanced at his watch. "I'm on exterminator duty in an hour. Anything else I can do now?"

  "No." Debbi reached over and patted his arm. "Thanks."

  "No problem." He placed his warm hand over her cold one and held it there a moment, hoping she knew she wasn't alone in this darkness. He released her hand gently and departed with nothing further said.

  She gripped the top of the wall, feeling as if she was tumbling. The corpses in the plains below and the corpses inside the walls surrounded her.

  In the tumultuous months since she had abandoned the space station, there had been one constant in her life to fill the emptiness-Ross. After the death of her mother, she was devastated and lonely, but she had never felt alone. Ross's presence dominated her days. Throughout the time of the horrors in Temptation, she had found a heightened level of confidence within herself, at first because she feared Ross's rebuke and later because she craved his respect. She watched him react to unimaginable conditions with predictable calm. Whatever the situation, he made a plan and went to work. He made others believe in him, no matter the nature of the horror that stalked the streets of his town. Even when it seemed that he might be overwhelmed by events, his face glowed with a savage grace that made her believe he would inevitably prevail and the town would be safe.

  Now there was a new thing stalking the streets of his town. And Ross was unaffected by it.

  She felt as if she was alone among the dead.

  Debbi released her hold on the wall. She turned and moved quickly for the access hatch, her pain no longer shackling her. She began to break down the crisis into a set of accomplishable tasks.

  Temptation was safe from the Reapers. One down. Now to deal with the Reformed Syker Legion which now occupied the city.

  The situation was a desperate standoff, but at least it wasn't a defeat.

  Debbi strode, torch in hand, through the streets. She didn't intend for Temptation to stay buried long under the dead. She would care for Temptation the way Ross once did.

  Ross might be gone, but she reminded herself, he was still alive. And that would have to do for now too.

  The wind suddenly changed direction.

  Debbi heard the tannis singing; every stone inside the walls of Temptation began to vibrate with its voice.

  It was time to go to work.

  Book II: The Undead War

  Chapter 1

  The stench was horrific.

  The smell of death was everywhere.

  It permeated everything: clothes, hair, furniture. The very air dripped with it. The hallway reeked of it.

  Colonial Ranger Debbi Dallas crouched in the dark and confining hall, sweating profusely, gun gripped tight. She saw movement and swung her gun to bear on it, teeth gritted and face grimaced against the smell.

  Stew stepped out of the shadows and crouched beside her and shoved his wide-brimmed hat back behind him where it hung from the latigo around his neck.

  Stew whispered, "The power's out."

  Debbi cursed, taking the moment to shove her red hair away from her green eyes. She drew in a deep breath, which she instantly regretted, and straightened her long frame. "We don't have much time. They'll be here soon. We have to go now."

  "Then let's do it. They're not getting their hands on another one." The venom in Stew's voice matched her own.

  A burst of gunfire ripped out through the door Debbi and Stew crouched beside. The cadre of four Rangers in the hall flinched. Everyone's nerves were raw. But that was becoming passe. They were learning to live with the strain.

  At least some of them were.

  Debbi locked eyes with Patrick Ngoma and Ty Miller hunched on the opposite side of the door from her and Stew. Ngoma's black skin blended into the shadows while Miller's pale face hovered like some ghostly visage with a cheesy pencil-thin moustache.

  Debbi clicked her comlink. "Fitz, you're on."

  An explosive commotion immediately began in the empty room next door. Debbi didn't know exactly what Boston Fitzpatrick was doing in there, but it sounded like a militia squad was coming through the wall into the shooter's room. She heard the shooter shout in alarm before opening fire inside the room, no doubt spraying the wall that Fitz was battering.

  Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Miller stood and kicked in the door. It crashed open and Debbi flung herself through, rolling on the rug and not stopping until she was behind cover, in this case a couch. Stew rushed in behind her.

  Debbi spied a man swinging an automatic rifle toward Stew.

  "You're not gonna take me!" the crazed figure screamed. "You're dead! You're all dead!"

  Debbi leaped at him. A blow with the butt of her rifle swept the shooter's legs out from under him. He fell back into a table with a crash. Stew was up and running. He kicked the rifle aside and pointed his own down at the writhing man on the floor.

  "It's Ringo," Stew announced with disbelief.

  Debbi climbed to her feet and looked down at the prone figure. She was stunned. Will "Ringo" Stuckey was one of their
own. A Colonial Ranger. A lawman. He was their youngest. But even so, he didn't go around shooting like a crazy drunk.

  She knelt beside him. "Hey, Ringo, it's me. It's Debbi. You're okay now We're here to help."

  Ringo's eyes were wide and dilated in terror. Spittle ran from the corner of his mouth. He babbled, "Are you dead? Don't touch me!"

  Debbi grabbed his hands as they flailed at her.

  Miller came forward with Ngoma and the massive, one-armed Boston Fitzpatrick who towered over the cowering young man.

  Fitz said, "Jesus, what's wrong with him? He looks like he's gone nuts."

  Miller responded quietly, "I don't blame him. That's the second person this week. There are times I want to do the same thing."

  "Well don't!" Debbi snapped. "We can't afford it."

  Heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs outside, a steady, rhythmic stomping. Ringo let out a piercing shriek and scrambled back. "They're here! Don't let them get me!" He grabbed Debbi's wrist.

  Debbi extracted herself from his grip and rose, her eyes darting quickly to the door. She spoke aside to Ringo. "They won't. We'll take care of this."

  Stew stepped up beside her, his gun at the ready. "I don't think we can, Debbi. This is more than just disturbing the peace. They'll take him."

  "No they won't. Not this time."

  "We gonna fight them now?" There was fear in Miller's voice, but Debbi knew he would follow her orders without question.

  The smell of decaying flesh intensified. Debbi suppressed a cough as her nose and throat rebelled against the cloying odor. Brought on by the stench, memories of the past year battered her. The death of her mother, her friends —what used to terrify Debbi was now a permanent part of her life. The smell of Death was commonplace in Temptation.

  There had been a time not so long ago when you could smell the dead coming. Now, however, you couldn't. Their stink permeated the air and hung there. It was everywhere and there was no place to hide.

  All eyes were on the doorway, waiting. None of them wanted to see what would walk through. No one wanted to be reminded that the town of Temptation was merely a graveyard come to life.