Banshee Screams

by Clay Griffith

  "For God's sake," Debbi snapped. "Is there anyone here without maggots in his tongue?" She looked at a nearby trooper. "What about you? Can you understand him?"

  The trooper moved its head and one side of its jaw snapped loose.

  Debbi actually laughed. "Look, Lieutenant, I can't understand what you're saying. But just open the gate. I want to talk to one of your prisoners. I know you can understand me."

  The zombie officer muttered something harsh and sibilant. The troopers slowly raised their rifles.

  Debbi was taken aback. She wasn't going to be allowed inside the prison. She shouldn't have been surprised though. The Legion had established this prison without asking the Colonial Rangers' cooperation. At first they had said it was to handle the overflow in the Temptation lock-up or for Legionary military prisoners, but soon it was being used for anyone. In hindsight, it was inconceivable that the Legion could have usurped prison functions from the Rangers, but it was too late to fight it now. Now, it was a matter of force. They had the guns and she couldn't push the matter.

  But Ringo was inside that sweltering hellhole and Debbi had to make sure he was all right.

  "Okay, listen," she said, trying to contain her rage. "Don't let me in. But at least let me talk to one of the prisoners. He was brought in last night. A young man, about eighteen years old. A Colonial Ranger. Just let me talk to him. I won't approach the fence. I won't touch him."

  The undead lieutenant turned and walked away.

  The zombie officer disappeared inside one of the long tents. After several minutes when it didn't return, she realized she wasn't going to see Ringo. She muttered a nasty curse under her breath.

  Debbi pulled down her bandanna and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Ringo! Ringo! Can you hear me?"

  She waited again, but no prisoners appeared in the yard. "Ringo! Hang tough! We're doing everything we can for you! I'll be back and I'll get in to see you!"

  Debbi replaced the bandanna. She pointed her finger at the nearest zombie trooper and cocked her thumb like a pistol hammer. She revved the bike and spun it around, ramming a trooper and knocking it to the ground.

  She sped back to Temptation intent on getting answers, one way or another.

  She wasn't surprised to find General Quantrill waiting for her on her return. He looked furious, standing at the gate with his hands clasped behind him. Two zombies troopers flanked him.

  Quantrill was silent up until she cut her motor. Then his voice rang clear with his anger. "I'm sick and tired of your actions, Ranger Dallas. You are pushing our sides closer to outright conflict."

  Debbi snickered sarcastically. "Oh dear. What have I done now?"

  "You made an unauthorized visit to the detention camp."

  "Unauthorized? Since when do I need authorization to see a prisoner? I do work in law enforcement."

  "The detention camp is under the administration of the Legion. You can't just appear at the gate unannounced and demand to examine a prisoner. There are proper channels. And will you please remove that kerchief from your face. I find it highly offensive."

  "Yeah, sure." Debbi made no move to lower the bandanna. "It looks like you're skipping town. What's going on?" The road back to Temptation was already clear of Legionnaires.

  "You'll be pleased to know that the Legion is moving south to attack the Reaper positions at Ghost Rock City. Once we have secured that city, you can have the parts you need to restore your nuclear generator."

  The Legion was leaving? Debbi felt the light bubbles of hope struggling out of the pit of her stomach. She studied the General's face, but it was impossible to tell anything from the mass of slipping, flaccid skin. The dead simply didn't have the same range of expressions as the living.

  Quantrill continued, "We will, of course, leave a small contingent of Legionnaires to assist here. As requested by your Town Council."

  "No doubt." The hopeful bubbles burst as Debbi shook her head. That explained why the prison wasn't breaking camp. She regarded the zombie commander. "What if I suggest to Ross and Atkinson that the Colonial Rangers take over administration of the detention camp?"

  "I'm afraid that's impossible. And unnecessary."

  "Why?"

  General Quantrill brought his arms around and folded them at his chest. "Most of the prisoners have already been moved. The detention camp was only a holding area until we found a more secure facility. Since the Worldstorm virtually destroyed the prison system, we have decided the best thing is to incarcerate the prisoners at the Lupinz Sanitarium."

  "What?" These changes in policy were coming way too fast. She was beginning to realize just how far out of the loop of authority she had been thrown.

  "Dr. Lupinz has secure facilities and, I'm sure even you would agree, the arrangements are more humane than tents in the broiling desert. Although I don't feel the elements any more, I am sensitive to you who do."

  "That's sweet. So all the prisoners are at the Sanitarium?"

  "Not yet. A few of the later arrivals are still in the camp. But they will be rotated out soon. That is why there is no sense in allowing you to visit the camp. Your friend will be shipped to the Sanitarium in a few days."

  "Will I be allowed to see him then?"

  "That depends on Dr. Lupinz. He's assuming complete administration of the prison system until we get this planet back on its feet and make other arrangements."

  Debbi again began to feel some hope. She had met Dr. Lupinz before and, although he was a very peculiar fellow, he was a generally moral man. She might be able to work a deal with Lupinz; perhaps even bring Ringo from the Sanitarium back to Temptation. She would even bargain away his freedom if he could spend the six-month sentence in the lockup.

  She asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

  "Because I'm about to embark on a hard campaign to completely destroy the Reapers. I don't want to worry about Temptation revolting against me."

  "Then why don't you take all your troops with you."

  "No. I don't have the time or patience to explain strategy to you. I intend to leave Temptation lightly fortified with a squad of Legionnaires."

  Debbi began to consider how much easier it would be to throw off a single squad of the Legion. Then, with enough training, she could have the militia up to speed on the black guns and stand a chance of holding off the Legion should they return and descend on Temptation.

  Quantrill said, "I don't need to be a syker to read your thoughts." He leaned down to Debbi, his rotting face a few inches away. She didn't flinch. "Make no mistake, Captain Marat will brook no resistance from you and your Rangers. Do I make myself clear?"

  Debbi heard herself say yes, but that wasn't what she was really thinking. The City of the Dead was about to be liberated.

  General Quantrill strode away and Debbi watched him with a smile. She barely noticed Stew come and stand beside her "Is it true?" he asked. "They're leaving?"

  "Yeah." She turned to him with a grin. "Most of them anyway."

  There was a rumble and both Rangers were galled to see one of their Stallions rise into the air and cruise after the departing Legion. They watched the bus-shaped vehicle vanish into the distance, carrying General Quantrill and his adjutant. Debbi took some solace in the fact that the Legion had managed to commandeer just one of the Ranger's precious Stallions. She had sabotaged the rest of the fleet, as well as most of the Ranger's other vehicles, shortly after the Legion arrived in Temptation so they could not be easily repaired without access to the specialized parts she had removed and hidden.

  "That's one Hoss we'll never see again," Stew said.

  Debbi said, "That's all right. We'd never get the stink out anyway."

  Chapter 5

  The smoke from the ore processing plant made Ghost Rock City look as if it was blazing wreckage.

  Far from it, however, as business was booming. Several months ago, the Reapers had seized the town to take control of the mineral wealth of the nearby mines and the industrial power of the or
e processors. To insure production went uninterrupted, Nicolai garrisoned Ghost Rock City with a force of one thousand heavily armed men, five of his best VTOL gunships, and a platoon of five main battle tanks wrested from the UN years before. The Reapers were also in the process of setting up a variety of cannons and mobile rocket launchers around the town wall, or at least what was left of the wall after the Reapers had demolished it during their attack on the city.

  Recently, the Reaper contingent in Ghost Rock City found themselves left to their own devices. There had been little contact with Nicolai after his defeat at Temptation. Defense preparations had suffered because local commanders didn't want to waste a lot of effort until everything shook out. Without Nicolai's supervision and with the heat of summer setting in, the Reapers in Ghost Rock City settled into the easy routine of managing their conquered town as little as possible. It was a routine that was quickly dulling their fighting edge.

  The Reaper scouts were surprised, therefore, when they spotted an army marching on Ghost Rock City. They weren't able to identify the enemy through the wavering waves of heat rising off the desert except that it was composed of nearly one thousand lightly armed infantry. They reported that it was most likely an ill-advised attack from some colonial militia because the only visible vehicle was an older model Colonial Ranger Stallion that appeared to be the army's sole air component. However, the invaders were lightly armed and no match for the firepower of the Reapers in Ghost Rock City.

  When the scouts sent word to the City, their commanders weren't worried. In fact, some treated the attack as a welcome diversion to break up the tedium of garrison duty. Others were angry with the attacking army for forcing them to stir in the miserable heat of the day.

  The Reaper gunships lifted off and swung to the north where they targeted the enemy who was foolishly marching in broad daylight across the open desert with no fast attack capability, no artillery or air support. Exchanging sarcastic quips over the radio, the Reaper pilots dropped low to start their bombing run.

  As the gunships streaked in, the Legionnaires in the forward division halted as one. Two hundred sykers looked skyward, focusing on the approaching aircraft. The other divisions easily altered their line of march to flow around their stationary comrades.

  The fighters roared over the Legionnaires without the pilots firing a shot or dropping a bomb. The fighter craft began to pitch. Three of the ships touched and careened out of control. Wings crumpled and disintegrated. The gunships somersaulted through the air and slammed into the ground to become burning wreckage skipping across the desert floor. The members of the stationary Legion division then turned their heads to follow the paths of the last two fighters. The ships veered off suddenly and disappeared over low hills miles away. Moments later, balloons of greasy fire rose above the hills.

  The entire Legion spread across the wide, flat desert outside Ghost Rock City. They were formed into five divisions resembling the squares of a Baroque army. Each square had a captain and a lieutenant in the center surrounded by rank after rank of Legionnaires.

  On the left flank, the 3rd Division began to glow with a strange aura. The entire square was immersed in an energy field. Then suddenly a brilliant flash fired from the square and impacted the town wall where two hastily manned heavy guns were coming to bear on the Legionnaires. A two hundred foot span of the wall collapsed in a massive explosion and the guns went down with it. The 3rd Division advanced slowly, continuing to pour fire through the breach in the wall.

  Amid the din, five tanks, long guns blasting, roared out onto the flats through other gaps in the wall. They wheeled into formation and sped forward across the barren ground firing again and again, intent on breaking the enemy quickly with a massive show of force. An over-aggressive commander unleashed his tank's full complement of rockets. Explosions erupted across the desert where the 4th Division marched. The air was thick with smoke and body parts.

  If the tankers expected their barrage to break the enemy, however, they were disappointed. The shattered square continued its advance through the smoke and carnage. Confidence inside the tanks was even more shaken when gunners pressed their eyes to their scopes and saw many of the injured regaining their feet and falling back into formation. Others troopers who were incapable of standing because of lost limbs or massive damage lay writhing on the ground. Fellow Legionnaires seemed to assist the wounded by bringing them what was left of their limbs.

  Once clear of the smoke, the battered 4th Division stopped in its tracks. The Legionnaires stared at one of the tanks. A flash of energy shot from the collected troopers and seared through the turret. Ammunition exploded and the vehicle broke in half like a toy.

  The next closest tank began an escape maneuver, but it too drew the attention of the 4th Division. The vehicle suddenly ground to a halt and its motor revved down. The throaty engine continued to rumble, but the hatches sprang open. The crew clambered from the machine, screaming and holding their heads. They staggered blindly before falling under the gunfire of approaching Legionnaires.

  The empty tank was left idling and a new, undead crew quickly occupied it.

  One by one, the other tanks stopped moving too and crews emerged to be mercilessly gunned down in the sand.

  The Legion had weathered the Reapers' heavy guns with fewer than fifty casualties. Energy boiled from all the divisions, obliterating the remnants of the wall and cutting through the first ranks of the Reaper infantry that emerged to meet them with screaming war cries. The Reapers, both humans and anouks, were surprised when their own tanks started firing on them.

  Slowly, the Reapers began to sense the horrendous power of what they were facing. Some of them were old enough to remember the old Syker Legion; they were the first to run. Others waited until they saw the decaying faces of their enemy before they ran. However, few could run fast enough or far enough to escape with their lives.

  When the Legion breached the ruined walls of Ghost Rock City, the slaughter began.

  Overcome by uncontrollable thoughts, Reapers turned their guns on each other. Others fell in the street with blood dripping from the eyes, noses, and ears, their brains bursting in their skulls. Some misguided Reapers thought they could save their lives by surrendering. When they emerged from hiding with their hands over their heads, it only made them easier targets.

  Barely one hour elapsed from the moment the Reapers put their fighters in the air until the Legion was firmly in control of the town. Ghost Rock City's Reaper force was entirely dead.

  The Stallion landed in the center of Ghost Rock City and General Quantrill climbed out. He surveyed the extensive damage and the satisfying body count among the enemy. He had been high above the battlefield coordinating the action, feeding information and commands to his captains on the ground with their divisions. He was gratified by his army's victory. His reorganization of the Legion to eliminate the old squad-based identities had created a cohesive unit. He was particularly buoyed by the success of the Legion's psychic mechanics which made every trooper in a division part of a local network and all the divisions together a wide network. It created a whole that was greater and more resilient than any individual. They could withstand damage that normally would have destroyed either a syker or a zombie. Those who were injured could knit their flesh with time and return to duty. Even troopers with parts of their brains destroyed still regained their feet and continued to do their duty, supported as part of the syker network. Only seven Legionnaires had suffered sufficient damage in the battle to effectively destroy them. Quantrill grieved for their loss; they were as close to being irreplaceable as any soldier could be.

  Still, the Battle of Ghost Rock City was an enormous success. And it was a good omen for Quantrill's coming campaign to conquer the planet.

  Quantrill saw a squad of Legionnaires approaching with a terrified man under guard. The man stared around him at the decaying troopers and the piles of bodies in the street. He seemed on the verge of a breakdown.

  The
Legionnaires halted and their captain saluted the General. "Sir, this man claims to be the leader of the town."

  Quantrill fixed his eyes on the overwhelmed man. "Is this true?"

  The man stammered wordlessly for a second, then said, "No. I . . . I'm the chief mine administrator. I only have that job because Nicolai killed all the other mine administrators." He stared at Quantrill with unbelieving horror. "I can keep the mines working for you too."

  "We don't need ghost rock," the General said. "We need food. My troops are hungry. We came from Temptation and the food supply there was restricted for political reasons."

  The man said, "I'm sure we can find something."

  "Yes, I'm sure." Quantrill regarded his officer. "Captain, your division may feed now."

  "Thank you, sir. I'll inform them." The captain saluted and sent a mental command to all the Legionnaires in his division to stand down and begin foraging. He then turned to the troopers surrounding the frightened chief mine administrator. "Carry on."

  The troopers fell on the man and began to eat him alive.

  The Deadwood II settled through the upwelling dust. The sleek, converted freighter rested on the ground, engine whining at takeoff level while the pilot, Hickok, scanned the area for potential problems. The terrain was desolate. Bleak, rocky ground with a few scraggly shrub-like trees. A small, weather-battered hut rested in the lee of a high escarpment.

  Hickok's trained eye saw no telltale signs of ambush. There was also no sign of recent habitation around the cabin, which was bad. She cut the ship's motors. The Chinese pilot strapped on a gun belt and ventured warily down the ramp. She pulled goggles over her eyes, but the wind piledrived grit into her exposed face.

  Hickok made her way over the uneven ground to the adobe shack. The door was made of rough wood planks and the single window was covered with a nailed down piece of animal hide. The pilot pulled her weapon and, although it felt ludicrous, she knocked on the door.

  "Hallow!" she yelled through the wind.