by T. K. Malone
The jackhammer was sweating it out of Zac. Three hours sleep was not ideal when a day was coming up like the one Zac’s was about to have, like they all were likely to. If anything, Zac was still drunk. Yep, he thought, not ideal. The hole was by now waist high and around three feet across, getting deeper slowly, very slowly. He clicked off the drill and set it to one side, reaching down and clawing at the concrete with his bare hands.
Noodle groaned. He was lying on a trolley, his boots dangling over its end. “Can you keep it down, Zac,” he moaned.
Billy Flynn was with Pebbles and Pogo, who’d really partied hard the previous night, but they’d also taken the first few shifts with the jackhammer and so they were now resting up, snoring through the noise.
“Must be your turn soon, Noodle,” Zac said.
“Ready when you are, boss. You just say the word. You know I wouldn’t slack off. Say, did we meet up with that Karina woman last night? I remember going looking fer her.”
“Think that was before we started drinking.”
“Shame. She’s mighty sweet, a mighty sweet woman.”
“Missed yer chance, there, Noodle,” but then Zac felt his foot shift, and then his other one gave way, and he fell through the bottom of the hole as Noddle said, “Sure did.”
Zac landed on a pile of rubble in the room below, lumps of concrete and dislodged re-bar pelting down on him. He felt the warm bloom of blood on his back and his ass, then stared up to see Billy, Pebbles and Pogo looking down at him. Billy had a smile that reached from ear to ear.
“Guess we’re through, then,” he called down. “Shall we go get showered?” and then his head withdrew, only to pop straight back into sight. “Are you all right, Zac?”
“Fuck off,” Zac spat at him, and Billy’s grin returned.
“Quite the entrance,” said a voice from the corner of the room.
Zac sighed, recognising Karina Drey. She ambled over to him. “I just sent one of mine up to tell you to stop drilling. Guess I was too late.”
He pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Guess so.”
Pulling him up, she turned him around. “Best we get you washed up and dressed.” She helped him stumble off the pile of rubble. “Come on, I gotta room you can freshen up in. You smell like a still, Zac Clay, like a rotten old still.”
“God dammit,” Noodle shouted as she led Zac from the room.
Zac did one last sweep of the compound. They’d got just shy of a hundred and fifty gridders up into the ducts and climbing toward the cave. The bottleneck wasn’t at the hole but, from what he’d heard, the final ladder up. Though most were eager to get out, that last climb took some courage, something they were taking their time digging deep for.
He’d said no more to Loser, the man having positioned himself to be the last point of defence in the stairwell leading up from the military area. It was going to be his job to blow it and effectively seal Karina’s troops in, apart from their three-foot diameter escape hole. It was a bastard of a job, and one Loser deserved. But now Zac knew how committed each of Karina’s troops were, he knew Loser would do what was needed, no matter how much angst it might cause him.
A lot had clicked into place in Zac’s head after he’d found out the extent of Sarah Meyers’ plans, like how Laura Meyers had played him, like why the rad-suits had all fitted, like how Loser always seemed to have a good idea what was going to happen next. But of all he’d pieced together in his mind, it was Switch who still confused him.
Had Switch been on both teams? Had he been one of Sarah Meyers’ plants? Everything pointed in that direction. He wondered what sort of woman she’d been. What she’d had that could commit people to her cause even from beyond the grave. Zac wished he’d met her, and envied them all their cause, their direction. For ten years he’d floundered, and now, faced with the likelihood that he wouldn’t survive the day, he rued each and every wasted second.
But most of all, he wanted Karina Drey to survive.
While he’d only known her for just over a day, if they were successful, he knew the world would need folk like her. It wouldn’t be a simple case of set Sable free and everything would be cool. No, more than likely there’d be resistance, and a fight to fill that power void he’d always been so smug about decrying.
He scoffed; the world would need a lot of Karina Dreys, plenty of them.
Calling in on Kenny, the big man confirmed that all was quiet, and as they both knew, that was the giveaway sign. Banks’s troops had to withdraw in order to advance, had to retreat from the gate so they could blow it. He knew he should get himself into position, to wait out the explosion, but he wanted to hold back for as long as he could.
Kenny had blossomed since he’d been back in the compound. He’d stopped moaning and got down to the business of being in charge of the gridders, of herding, reassuring and cajoling them, or Molly had; either way, they made a good team. Zac finally said goodbye and left.
The stairwell down to the military area was packed with explosives. Croft’s men would have to retreat fast past it all. Another bottleneck, he recognized.
When he got to the loading area, he found Croft’s men were ready, all eyes focused on the last of the Hell’s Gates. The air was thick with gun oil, sweat and fear. These folks were the bait, their blood and guts what would pull Banks in. It was they who had to turn their backs and run.
Karina was looking down from the balcony. She waved, but Zac didn’t go up. They were risking everything just to give him and his boys the chance to get out, and then to cross the valley to the Meyers' retreat. Of course, there was always the off chance they might even defeat Banks… One way or another, Banks had to be erased from the field, everything hinged on it.
Threading his way through the maze of foxholes, Zac leaned into the foremost and tapped Sticks on the shoulder.
“Picked yerself a prime spot,” Zac said.
“Can’t lead from the back,” he replied. “’Sides, I get to shoot more of ‘em from here.”
Zac hesitated, not knowing what else to say to the soldier. The clock seemed to have clicked too far toward their doom for words to mean anything anymore.
“Stay safe,” he eventually managed, and walked away.
“See you up top,” Sticks called after him.
Now standing before the Hell’s Gates, Zac wondered how they could even fall, but of course, Banks had already blasted his way through eight of them. The bastard no doubt had it off pat by now. Zac trailed his hand along the stone wall as he walked to a small door hewn into the rock beside the vast gate. He opened it and walked through.
It was cramped inside, every single one of his gang bar Loser packed into the tight space, or hanging on to the ladder up to the blown exit. It was hot, too, the air stale, heavy and humid. This was where they had to wait. This was where they had to hope two things would happen, the first being that Banks’s blasting of the gate didn’t just take them out or entomb them, and the second, that the door wasn’t noticed.
If there was a third, it would have to have been that the HUDs would still work afterwards. Karina had volunteered to give them the signal, the one to tell them when to burst out of the door and high tail it out of there.
Damn, Zac thought, but it was claustrophobic in here.
Noodle farted and started sniggering, Billy Flynn burst out laughing. Pebbles slapped Noodle while Pogo gagged. The rest of the gang tried to join in but lacked flippancy those four showed to their doom.
Zac wondered what Banks was waiting for.
The almighty blast shook the rock around them, though they were so tightly packed in they couldn’t even fall over. Zac flipped down the visor on his HUD, keeping his own silence.
With each snatched transmission, the sound of shouting, gunfire and screaming intensified. Zac strained at the leash to get out, to go to their assistance. His hand was on the door handle, but Noodle’s arm was around his neck, restraining him.
came Karina Drey’s voice, followed by machine gun fire.
Zac pounded on the wall, but Noodle’s gripped him tighter.
Nothing.
The transmissions fell silent. All Zac could hear was the muffled sound of heavy, machine-gun fire and muffled screams of the dying. Finally, Karina’s voice sounded through the static.
More gunfire, more shouting, then Karina screamed, and Zac’s heart leapt.
20
Zac’s Story
Strike time: plus 15 days
Location: Project Firebird
Zac looked out of the doorway and into the mayhem. Even with the HUD’s display, he could see nothing but smoke and the blink of red. Banks’ men were everywhere, but they had their backs to Zac and his men. He resisted the urge to start shooting.
He flinched and ducked as the shockwave of an explosion thumped into him, punching him back into the doorway like a huge fist. It slowed Banks’ advance, just for a heartbeat or two, and then the first of his men edged forward again. When nothing came back at them, no fire, no fury, just silence, they surged toward the balcony—now confident—now sure of victory.
Zac slipped out of the doorway followed by his gang and they edged along the wall, clambering over the rubble of the last of the Hell’s Gates. He came to the edge of the huge smoke-filled tunnel as the machine-gun fire started up again. Karina Drey had begun her guerrilla war. It was now just a question of how long she could keep Banks occupied. Noodle was at Zac’s shoulder, gun in hand, silencer screwed into place. It seemed a ridiculous caution given the noise currently coming from the compound, but Zac could have kissed him anyway. Noodle took point.
Piles of rubble lined either side of the tunnel, bulldozed out of the way to clear a route for the invasion. They scampered down it, eager to get away from the fighting. Zac began to think all Banks’ troops might just be behind them, but that hope ended when two heat sigs in a Jeep came racing toward them. Noodle shot the driver without breaking stride, Billy Flynn soon following suit with the passenger, the Jeep coasting to a slow stop up against the rubble piles.
Zac almost broke into a smile.
Noodle and Billy spun the Jeep around, jumped in and sped off toward the tunnel entrance. Pebbles dropping another smoker to give them cover. Pauly brought up the rear, mostly because he was an expert at walking backward, especially after a bellyful of beer. Spritzer fell in beside Zac.
Zac couldn’t fault his logic.
They waited. Zac guessed it was two to one against them, but they were a club, and they’d fight hard. Plus, they knew the enemy was coming.
Zac knew he was losing it, but then Pauly whispered,
The Free World soldiers were in loose ranks, but then hesitated, almost certainly spotting them. Zac didn’t waste any time and let loose. The whole gang started firing, and without cover, the soldiers didn’t stand a chance.
They hadn’t made the seventh gate when Noodle and Billy went flying past. They’d only got to the fifth when they returned with Pogo, Pebbles and Spritzer hanging off the side. Zac waved them forward.
Marching on, Zac’s group formed back up into loose columns mimicking the way Banks’ troops had been marching and they passed the ruined gates one by one. Noodle was waiting by the second to last. He raised his visor, and Zac reciprocated.
“Billy ‘n me took a sneak peak, we gotta bit o’ work to do, but nothin’ disastrous. We reckon a little distraction, and we could have this wrapped up fairly soon.”
“What’ve you got in mind?” Zac asked, dreading the answer.
HUDs off, Pogo and Pebbles had their hands in the air. They also had little, except rags, covering them, their combats now clearly having seen better days. Noodle and Billy Flynn pushed them forward with the nozzles of their guns, and Zac reckoned they’d probably pay later for being a little too heavy-handed. Spritzer and Pauly were in the Jeep, the rest of them behind it as they spilled out of Project Firebird’s entrance, trying to look as though they’d just been relieved. All they lacked was that all-important black and gold insignia.
Just as Noodle had promised, Pogo and Pebbles drew all the attention, the remnants of Banks’ troops stopping for a moment to turn them approving glances. They managed to get all the way down to the main camp without being challenged. Zac knew the layout of the shipping containers, the now empty stockade, and the command tents. This time, though, the place was next to deserted, Banks clearly having fully committed to his final assault. Zac’s HUD remained silent, Karina having either switched channels or been killed. He felt more sorrow for her than he could fathom, recognizing that she’d clearly made one hell of an impression.
Noodle began firing, always the most trigger-happy, and Zac cursed him. Once the bullets started flying, though, all hell broke loose. Zac slammed his visor down, the scene making instant sense now everything had turned gold and red. They’d had a plan, a loose one: to get past the containers and out into the redwoods before they could be rumbled, from where they were to follow the trail Renshaw had shown Zac only a few days before.