The Glass Mountains: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 2

by J. V. Roberts

  Hause won’t attack.

  He’d said it and he’d been convinced of it. He’d been convinced that Hause would offer terms, that Hause’s knowledge of the nuke, and his love of Genesis and its people, would prevent him from declaring full-scale war.

  “Sir, we’ve got to move, the men need you.” Caldwell gave him a gentle shove from behind, almost causing him to trip across the lifeless limb of a young grunt that had caught a round in the neck.

  Dan broke through the hesitating clutter of soldier’s gathered around the stairwell entrance. “Men, on me!” Dan stepped into the fray, flattening himself against the doorframe to allow room for the retreat of another procession of wounded. He stopped one of the retreating soldiers; half of his face was singed black where he’d been blown up. “Reyes up there?”

  “Last time I saw him, he was with the others, trying to hold the generator room.”

  White flashes of gunfire lit the air above him as a battle raged on the second and third-floor landings. Brass bounced down through the grates, burning the back of his neck.

  “Reload!”

  “I got him! I got him! Two more on the left!”

  Dan couldn’t tell the voices apart and everyone was wearing the same damned uniform. When a body fell or the screams of the maimed and mangled filled the air, he didn’t know whether to cringe or breathe a sigh of relief. The only way to fully see the picture would be to get up close and personal with it. “You only shoot what you can see! It shoots at you, you shoot back! Our men are up there too and enough of us have died tonight! Understood?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Eyes up! Move forward!”

  Dan got halfway up the first half-circle of stairs when he realized that he was too late. He caught a glimpse of his men just inside the main hall on the second-floor being lined up against the wall and simultaneously executed. Hause’s men had taken mechanical.

  One of the executioners turned and locked eyes with Dan. “There are more of them coming up the stairs!” More of Hause’s men appeared. They filled the overhead balconies, their weapons pointed down at Dan and his crew. They’d walked into an ambush. “Open fire!”

  Time slowed. Dan turned to retreat, but the path was blocked by his men, tangled together, trying to find cover as the world around them was torn apart. Dan threw his rifle over the railing and followed after it, hitting the metal bar with his stomach, attempting to vault his way to the ground below. His ankle got hung up and he went flipping towards the pavement. The landing was painful and left him dazed. He could see the blurred images of the enemy above and the star shaped explosions of light erupting from the barrels of their rifles as they continued their merciless barrage. He rolled away just as a string of bullets crunched into his position, throwing chips of cement into the air. Once he got beneath the stairwell he retrieved his rifle and pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible.

  It seemed like hours, but in reality, it was mere minutes. He listened as his men attempted to claw their way over each other, screaming for loved ones, gurgling their final breaths, their arms and legs dangling down between the stairs. Dan watched their fingers twitch and then become still. Just when he had lost hope for additional survivors, a body landed in front of him, covered in blood. It was Caldwell, absent his rifle. Dan leaned out and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him to safety. Dan began patting him down, searching for the wound.

  “Where are you hit?”

  Caldwell slapped him away, sliding up beside him into a sitting position. “It’s not mine.”

  Everything fell into silence, leaving only the unanswered calls of dying men.

  “Dan, you down there?” The weathered voice was instantly familiar.

  “Yeah, Pinkerton, I’m here.”

  “How many more men have to die for your bullshit?”

  Dan looked up, trying to get a peek at the world above through the grated metal, but everything was obscured by the bodies of his fallen comrades. “You’re the one doing the killing. And for what? To defend Hause’s lies? Genesis deserves better and you know it.”

  “I know that we swore an oath to serve.”

  “To serve Genesis! Hause is not Genesis, he’s one man. Genesis is the people.”

  “And the people chose him. Today, in the Great Hall, they chose him, not you.”

  Caldwell rolled his head towards Dan; the blood of the dead coated his face. “Shoot that sonofabitch,” he whispered, his arms cradling an invisible rifle.

  “Dan, are you still there?”

  Dan didn’t have to poke his head out to know there were probably a dozen fully loaded rifles locked on their position. “I’m here.”

  “The Lord Marshal has instructed me to give you one chance, and only one chance, to surrender. Tell your men to lay down their weapons. All of you will be treated fairly. Who knows, one day you may even be allowed to rejoin our society.”

  Dan laughed. “I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor, Pinkerton. We both know there is no chance for me. The Lord Marshal will make me an example. I’ll be lucky if I get last words.”

  “So do it for your men, so that they might live. All this talk of putting it on the line for Genesis, here’s your chance. Your men have family and friends that miss them and are terrified for their well being. Let them come home.”

  “They’re here because they chose to be here. They believe in what we’re doing.”

  “And what are they doing, Dan? What are you doing, besides leaving wives without husbands and children without fathers? You know that you don’t stand a chance against the Lord Marshal. You know you’re going to die if you continue down this road.”

  Dan checked the magazine on the rifle, slammed it home, and chambered a round. “At least I’ll go down fighting, on my terms.”

  “So you’re turning down the Lord Marshal’s generous offer? I just want to be clear.”

  Dan extended his rifle from cover, barrel pointed up, and blindly fired a three round burst. He could hear the ricochet and the profanity as men dove for cover. “Clear enough?”

  “Yes, quite clear.”

  The remainder of Dan’s army had gathered on the other side of the stairwell door, in the lobby, to listen to the exchange. Some of them held weapons and looked ready to fight. Others were bloody and bandaged and just seemed curious.

  “You want me to cover you, sir?” a shirtless soldier asked, one-half of his face wrapped in gauze.

  Dan held a hand up and shook his head.

  Pinkerton’s voice broke the silence once more. “To the men following Defense Minister Adams, hear my voice. The Lord Marshal has bestowed upon me the ability to offer you a way back. We control the food, the weapons, and the electricity. I’ve talked with many of your families and they have expressed to me how much they miss you. Many of you have fallen here today. You no longer have the manpower or the resources to win this fight. All you have to do is throw down your weapons, surrender, and you may once again count yourselves among the citizenry of Genesis.”

  The men in the lobby were wavering. The desire to see their families and escape the horrors of the battlefield seemed to be overriding their conviction. They began looking at the men to their left and right with question marks in their eyes, searching for the approval of their peers.

  “Guys, remember why we’re here—” Dan started, but Pinkerton’s baritone continued hammering away overhead, crushing his words before they could attract the ears of his men.

  “I want you men to hear something from someone that I think might be able to change your mind.” New footsteps appeared on the platform overhead, small and delicate. “Go ahead, dear. Speak. You’re safe.”

  “Men, can you hear me?” It was Perkins’ widow, Amanda.

  Dan hung his head.

  “Man, we’re finished,” Caldwell said.

  “This isn’t what my husband would have wanted. He loved Genesis. He loved and believed in the Lord Marshal. If he could see you guys
right now, it would kill him all over again. The Lord Marshal isn’t perfect, but I stand with him. He’s brought us this far and I trust him to bring us the rest of the way.”

  “You think they fed her that bullshit?” Caldwell whispered.

  “I don’t know, maybe.” Dan sat and watched as the fire that had burned so brightly in his warriors turned to ash and ember. They lowered their guns, their shoulders sagging.

  Hause had won.

  “Thank you, dear.”

  Amanda’s footsteps vanished from the walkway.

  A tall grunt pushed to the front of the group gathered in the stairwell doorway. “Captain Pinkerton, sir, this is Lieutenant Byrnes. Do we have your word that no harm will come to us or our families? We have to hear you swear it, on the honor of Genesis and the men that have fallen to defend her.”

  “You have my word, soldier. But there is one other condition.”

  “Boy, you listen to me, not him; I am your commanding officer!” Dan did his best to exude the sort of ferocity that had tamed so many other young men over the preceding decades.

  The soldier puffed his chest and raised his chin defiantly, no longer recognizing Dan as an authority. “Captain Pinkerton, sir, what would you have us do?”

  “Bring me the head of Defense Minister Adams.”

  Dan had lost much in his old age, but he hadn’t lost his speed. He was up on one knee, his finger bent around the trigger before any of his men could respond to the treacherous proposal. He sprayed the entryway to the stairwell, blowing Byrnes’ chest through his spine and sending the other men scattering for cover. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement.

  Caldwell.

  He wasn’t about to take any chances. He rammed him in the side of the head with the rifle butt and knocked him unconscious.

  Dan knew he had to move. Pausing, even for a moment, would mean death. He blind-fired once and immediately dove from cover. He was sliding through the door, into the lobby, as Pinkerton and his crew opened up on him. He pulled his legs out of the line of fire, coming up to his hands and knees before dragging himself up to his feet.

  He was inside the doorway, stuck between the traitorous bastards in the lobby and Pinkerton’s crew. He could hear the men in the lobby breathing, just around the corner, could practically smell their sweat. He could see the makeshift hospital that had been erected in the middle of the floor. Some of the wounded were up on their elbows, watching the drama unfold. But the majority of them didn’t seem to notice, they were either dead or in too much pain to care. At his feet lay the corpse of the man he’d shot. He felt no regret; the turncoat bastard had earned every bullet.

  There was running on the stairs. Pinkerton and his crew had begun converging on his position.

  His options were drying up quickly.

  A boot slowly crept into view as one of the hyperventilating grunts gathered the balls to round the bend. Dan didn’t have any time to waste. He fired and blew the front half of his foot off, leaving behind a pile of mangled meat and powdered bone. The grunt squealed and doubled over at the waist. Dan grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into a chokehold. He side stepped into the lobby, using the one-footed grunt as a human shield, holding the rifle outstretched with one hand. He swept left, his finger locked on the trigger, cutting down a half dozen men as they returned fire, their bullets splashing into the torso of his hostage. He let off the trigger just long enough to swing around and riddle the two men approaching from the rear with a wall of lead. Dan released his hold on the shield and sprinted for the exit. A few of the wounded soldiers scattered around the lobby cursed his name as he ran past, a majority of their words drowned out by the blood pumping in his ears. His feet hit the desert floor and the moist, Outland air wrapped around him. He heard glass shatter overhead and then the distant crack of a gunshot, a geyser of dirt leaped from the ground in front of him.

  Fucking snipers!

  He stumbled through the Tower One entrance, into the lobby. He dropped his rifle and turned to seal the doors.

  “Hands in the air, Dan!”

  He spun around to find Buddy pointing a rifle. Over his left and right shoulder stood Ichako and Loviatar; Ichako was pointing a rifle as well and Loviatar was holding his hammer sideways against his chest.

  “Word travels fast.” Dan did as he was told, slowly raising his hands and locking his fingers behind his head.

  “We heard a racket over in the stairwell, they were yelling down about the bounty on your head, wanted to make sure everyone knew about it; they want you bad.”

  “Bounty?”

  “Well…guess it’s not really a bounty. But he said it’d put us in the good graces of the Lord Marshal, and that’s enough for me.” Dan hadn’t ever seen Buddy with a rifle. The dimwitted bastard hadn’t ever held one, judging by his form: his arms were stiff, holding the rifle away from his body as if it were some screaming baby.

  “You know that’s bullshit, right?”

  “Nah. He said it. Gave his word on it, we all heard him.” Buddy nodded as he spoke, looking to Ichako and Loviatar for some solidarity.

  Ichako nodded and Loviatar grunted, his fists tightening around the hammer.

  “Gave his word? Did he cross his heart, hope to die?”

  Buddy knew he was being mocked, but lacked the faculties needed to develop a clever retort. “You won’t be cracking wise once I pump a few rounds in your face, old man.”

  “You really think he’s going to let you three idiots back in the fold?”

  Buddy kept nodding, but there was a shred of uncertainty creeping behind his eyes. “I’m the only one here that knows how to run the dungeon. The only one willing to live down there in the dark with those animals, smelling their piss and shit.”

  “You turn a key and beat on people that can’t fight back. I don’t think Hause will have a problem finding another flunky that he can grease with free booze and bread.”

  Buddy continued rattling off qualifications as if he hadn’t heard Dan. “And you tell me, where are they going to find another soldier like Loviatar?” Buddy turned, introducing Loviatar with one hand, as if he were a merchant trying to sell him off at the market.

  Dan clucked his tongue. “You got me there.”

  Ichako stepped forward, pointing a finger at his own chest. “And no one can pour a drink like me.” There was still some bruising on his face from where Dan had smashed him with a bottle a few weeks ago.

  “You boys seem to have it all figured out. So, what’s next? Which one of you is going to pull the trigger?”

  Buddy and Ichako exchanged puzzled glances; clearly, they hadn’t gotten that far.

  “That’s it? You ain’t going to fight back? Tell us why we shouldn’t kill you?” Buddy seemed disappointed. He’d been expecting some grand climax. He was just a lowly jailer and he was about to bring down the Defense Minister of Genesis. That called for fireworks. But it wasn’t happening like that. There was no bang. No sparkle. Just an old soldier with his hands in the air, ready to die.

  “What’d you expect?”

  “I don’t know.” Buddy adjusted his stance. “You want to die or something? Is that it?”

  Dan shook his head. “Not particularly, but I’m not going to give a sniveling little shit scraper like you the satisfaction of seeing me beg. Pull the trigger.”

  Loviatar stomped his feet. “Let me hammer his head!”

  “Patience, Loviatar.” Buddy took aim at Dan’s knees. “I’ll start and you can finish.”

  “What about me?” Ichako seemed eager to prove himself.

  “You can stand there and watch, bartender.”

  Dan held his breath, bracing for the pain, but anticipating the peace.

  The lobby doors behind him burst open and the hot desert air washed across the back of his neck. He heard a gunshot and saw Buddy’s face implode. Ichako was so damned startled that he fumbled his weapon. He was working frantically to regain control when two holes appeared in his chest; a clou
d of red mist rose behind his body as the bullets made their exit.

  Dan crouched to retrieve his rifle as Loviatar charged like an animal that had just broken free from a lifetime in captivity. The sight of the rapidly encroaching monster, his bloodshot eyes bulging from the holes in his mask, caused Dan to move quicker and clumsier. Dan’s faceless savior was firing shot after shot into Loviatar, but the bullets were like bug bites, opening up bloodless holes across the sternum of the roaring beast. The hulking executioner was now a few steps away from Dan and well within hammering distance. Dan fell back and aimed his weapon from a sitting position as Loviatar’s shadow fell across him like a storm cloud. He held down the trigger and emptied the magazine. The barrage of lead carved a ditch in Loviatar’s belly, revealing a workshop of slimy, gray innards beneath his dead fetid flesh. Still, he was not slowed. Dan rolled right as the hammer plummeted downward. It crashed into the ground with a thunderous force, sending a shower of pulverized cement flying into the air. Dan, absent a fresh magazine, tossed the rifle away. Loviatar came upright, a spider web of gray intestine dangling from his belly.

  “Dan, knife!” It was Caldwell, a bloody gash adorning his forehead where Dan had clocked him. He tossed a blade across the room. It landed, rolled end over end, and slid to a stop next to Dan’s thigh just as Loviatar swung again.