by Jake Bible
“I haven’t slept in two days,” Nick replies. “Better let Worm drive.”
“We risk detection if he plugs into the transport’s controls system,” Jersey says. “Passive observation of the scanners is one thing, but an AiSP driving is another. Even with our sat links severed and PSCs out, the eyes in the sky can still spot patterns.”
“So what?” Jersey asks. “The eyes in the sky will see us or they won’t. Doesn’t matter who is driving. Not like we’re the only transport out in the Sicklands, GenSOF or GenWreck. We’re always a target.”
“Jersey’s right,” Ton says. “GenSOF knows which trannies are theirs and which aren’t. They spot us and it looks like an AiSP is driving then we’ll be targeted instantly. Normal GenWrecks aren’t their priority, but we are.”
“I’ll drive,” Paulo says. “I’m not as good as Nick when it comes to navigating this area of the Sicklands, but I can hold my own. Just point me in the right direction.”
“We aren’t leaving,” Red says. “Not yet.” He turns back to the cave. “We need to go inside. This facility has surveillance. Not all do. I want to see who’s killing us. We need that data collected, if it hasn’t been destroyed.”
All of the operators crane their necks to see if Red is joking. They quickly realize he is not.
“Get in the transport and suit up,” Ton says without argument. “Full armor and stat helmets. Test your air intakes fully. I don’t want to have to carry any of your asses out of that cave because you pass out from smoke inhalation.”
“What about the incoming?” Jersey asks. “Worm is pretty adamant that we need to get going.”
“Worm will have to figure out a plan,” Red says. “We’ll keep Paulo and Blaze in the transport with you and that weird fucking orb. When trouble shows up, you alert us.”
“How? No coms,” Blaze says.
“Honk the fucking horn,” Ton growls before Red can respond. “Don’t be fucking dense.”
“The tranny has a horn?” Blaze smirks.
“It sounds just like you screaming when I jam my boot up your ass,” Ton says.
“Oh, that horn,” Blaze replies.
The squad hurries from the cave and into the transport, ready to get their new mission going so they can get the hell out of the area.
3
The transport hatch closes up tight and Blaze takes a seat at his station, bringing up all external vid views. He watches as the rest of Coffin Squad, stat suits active and glowing against the dark smoke coming from the cave, carefully work their way to the mouth before being lost from sight.
“Worm? You got scans on the squad?” Blaze asks.
“Yes, Sergeant Crouch,” Worm replies, his AiSP voice emanating from the speakers embedded in the ceiling of the transport. The AiSP’s voice would have gone directly into Blaze’s ear, but with the operator’s Personal Sat Chip gone, that is no longer possible. No com, no ear Worm. “But scans are weak. The cave’s configuration and mineral makeup is an excellent jamming mechanism. I am sure that is why this location was chosen.”
“We’ve gone from ultra tech to almost no tech in weeks,” Blaze says. “It’s enough to drive an operator crazy.”
“Back to basics,” Paulo says from the driver’s seat. He turns around and looks at Blaze, but shifts his focus when he catches the look on Jersey’s face. “You okay?”
“Red still doesn’t trust us,” Jersey says. “The only Zebra Squad member in there is Ton, and that’s because he and Red are old friends. That leaves us in here to play backup.”
“First, there is no us,” Blaze laughs. “You are not an operator, baby. You are tech support at the most. Second, Paulo needs to be in that driver’s seat and ready to go if trouble hits before they come out of there. Third, I wouldn’t trust me either. I could have been compromised back at Control when DeBeers had me strapped down for examination. You’ve admitted, Red’s admitted, and Worm has even admitted that I’m different because of the super bugs growing in me. All good, normal reasons to be sitting here staring at useless vid feeds.”
Jersey glares at Blaze, but he doesn’t back down, just holds her gaze until her face softens slightly. Slightly.
“First, I am way more than tech support, you asshole,” Jersey says. “I’m the love of your fucking life and the only one in this transport that knows shit all about bacterial loads and how to deal with them.”
“That is not entirely correct, Ms. Cale,” Worm interjects. “My Ai protocol is vastly more qualified to analyze Sergeant Crouch’s bacterial load than your personal training. I can analyze and process data at a speed that cannot be matched by the human brain.”
“But you have no instincts, Worm,” Jersey counters. “And instincts seem to matter a lot out here in the Sicklands. Especially since we are no longer sat linked.”
“Instincts are merely human reactions to intellectual processes they cannot define or understand consciously,” Worm says. “I have no such separation, Ms. Cale.”
“You two can share the credit when you figure out my unique bacterial loads, okay?” Blaze sighs. “Not like you’ll get the findings published in science journals or anything. So how about you two cool it with the nerdy rivalry?”
The small orb floats by Jersey’s side, never more than a few feet from her.
“You figure that thing out yet?” Blaze asks. “That should be what you two are really focusing on. The thing gives me the creeps.”
“Leave it alone,” Jersey says protectively. “It got me to you and then got us all out of Control. It may be a simple Ai protocol, but it isn’t creepy. It certainly isn’t dangerous.”
“I don’t like how it watches us all the time,” Blaze says. “Worm? Have you figured it out yet?”
“Not yet, Sergeant Crouch,” Worm says. “But I agree with Ms. Cale that it does not present any danger. The Ai protocol it uses is rudimentary, but I believe the orb houses something more complex. Unfortunately, it refuses to link with my Ai protocol so I can fully study it.”
“See? It’s a secretive little shit,” Blaze says.
“Nah, it’s kinda cute,” Paulo says. “It reminds me of a bug hound pup, always on your heels, following you around.”
“Exactly,” Jersey says. “It’s my pup. Thanks, Paulo.”
“Et tu, Paulo?” Blaze smirks.
“Just calling it like I see it, man,” Paulo says, shrugging. “Worm? How are we looking with the incoming hostiles?”
“At present speed, ETA is twenty minutes,” Worm says. “I count close to a dozen, at least. It is hard to say with my limited scan range. I do not detect any tech, as of right now.”
“Cooties,” Paulo says. “We can handle a dozen cooties.”
Blaze turns back to the vid images of the smoking cave.
“Don’t get cocky,” Blaze says, pointing at the image. “Cooties did that to trained GenWrecks. I don’t think a dozen cooties are as easy to take down as they used to be.”
“Did Simon Crouch just tell someone else not to get cocky?” Jersey laughs. “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”
“I’m maturing,” Blaze says. “It’s probably because of my super bacteria.”
“Bacteria would not be a factor in any changes to your maturity level, Sergeant Crouch,” Worm states. “More like divine intervention is the contributor to that miracle.”
“Holy shit!” Paulo guffaws. “Worm just made a joke! And a fucking good one!”
“Did I?” Worm asks. “I will have to check my humor protocols for unscheduled changes. I did not intend to make that joke.”
“Don’t mess with a good thing,” Paulo says. “If you can burn Blaze then leave that humor protocol alone.”
“Har fucking har,” Blaze says. “And Worm?”
“Yes, Sergeant Crouch?” Worm replies.
“Go fuck yourself,” Blaze says.
“That is not anatomically possible,” Worm states. “I have explained this to all of you several times.”
4
The static shield covering Red’s face gives the world a strange, blue glow. Coupled with the dense smoke from the still burning fires that ravage the GenWreck base, visibility is almost zero as Coffin Squad slowly makes its way deeper into the cave.
“Scanners aren’t telling me much,” Ton says from Red’s shoulder. “I don’t know how you people have functioned out here for so long without sat links.”
“You get used to it,” Red says. “Low tech is the Sicklands way. Not that I’m not happy for these StatSuits. We’d have choked to death within five feet of walking into this place without them.”
“Yeah, they come in handy,” Ton says.
Ton holds up a fist and the squad stops instantly.
“What you got?” Red asks.
“Bodies,” Ton says, pointing his rifle towards a dark mound a few meters ahead. “I think.”
“Eyes open,” Red says. “Cooties like to play hide and seek.”
“Cooties can breathe smoke?” Collette asks.
“Who fucking knows?” Marco says as he watches the squad’s six, his eyes and rifle sweeping back and forth, ready for an attack from behind.
“Holy Static God,” Collette says as the squad reaches the mound. “They’ve melted together. You can’t tell where one body starts and one ends.”
“That’s not because they’ve melted,” Ton says as he kneels by the mound of burnt flesh. “It’s because they have been ripped apart. Look at this shit.”
“No thanks, I’m good,” Marco says. “I’ll just keep looking this way.”
“Fuck me,” Collette says as she kneels next to Ton and nudges the mound with her rifle. Small, blue sparks jump out when the static weapon and the burnt flesh connect. “What the hell are those? Teeth marks?”
“Yeah,” Red says. “The cooties had a taste before they torched the place.”
“Shit,” Nick says, choking back his gorge. “That means they killed everyone before setting the fire.”
“No way,” Marco says. “No way a bunch of cooties could take out a whole base. They had to use the fire as a weapon first and then attacked during the panic.”
“Nick is right,” Ton says. “The fire would have spread too fast for the cooties to have stopped long enough to dismember the bodies and have a nibble.”
“That’s Lonnie,” Collette says as she lurches to her feet. She hurries away from the mound and deactivates her static visor so she can puke. “Oh…fuck…”
“You know him?” Ton asks, looking at the scorched face of one of the bodies.
“We know them all,” Red says. “But Lonnie and Collette served together in GenSOF before being booted out into the Sicklands. He was a good guy.”
“Get your visor back up,” Ton says as he stands and looks over at Collette. She’s busy puking and coughing at the same time. “You’re going to choke to death if you don’t get your visor up.”
“Fuck off,” Collette says.
“Do it,” Red orders. “Pull it together, operator. We have a job to do.”
“Data locker should be over there,” Nick says, nodding towards a barely visible branch to the cave. “It should have held up to the heat.”
“Then let’s get to it,” Red says. “Let’s not forget we have company coming.”
“Good,” Collette says as she rejoins the squad, her static visor active once again. “I need to kill some cooties after seeing this.”
“Let’s avoid a fight for as long as we can,” Ton says. “We’re a dying breed, apparently, so no need to risk getting killed if we don’t have to.”
“I’m not going to risk getting killed,” Collette snarls. “I’m going to do the killing!”
“Collette, stow it,” Red orders. “Get your shit together and gut the fuck up. You risk all of our lives getting worked up.”
“Getting worked up? That’s what you call it?” Collette shouts.
“Hey,” Marco says, putting a hand on Collette’s shoulder. She tries to shrug it off but he just grips tighter. “We aren’t the enemy. Save that anger for when we have to actually fight. You’ll get your chance, don’t worry.”
“He’s right, unfortunately,” Ton says. “We can only run so long. Soon we’ll be in the shit and wishing we weren’t. Save your grrr for then.”
“Let’s get the surveillance data and get out of here,” Collette growls. “I’m fucking done with this place.”
Nick leads the squad to a branch in the cave. One by one they enter the branch, rifles ready, their limited scanners at full power. After a few meters, they come to a door set into the wall. Nick glances back at Red and the man nods.
Carefully, Nick reaches out and shoves the door open. It swings inward on noisy hinges, the creaking sound almost deafening in the enclosed space. The squad waits, but nothing attacks so Nick moves forward, his rifle whipping right then left before he gives a thumbs up.
“Clear,” Nick says. “Data lockers are right over…here… Are you shitting me?”
“What?” Red asks as the squad moves into the small room. “What’s wrong…? Fuck.”
A row of thick metal lockers stands against the far wall of the room. The entire front of the lockers are bent and torn open, revealing only emptiness.
“Why the hell would cooties break into these?” Red snaps. “What the hell would those syphilitic fucks need with raw data?”
“Maybe this attack wasn’t just about killing,” Ton says. “Maybe it was coordinated and planned.”
“Are you shitting me?” Red asks. “Cooties can barely coordinate hunts, let alone an attack on fully armed GenWrecks. We’re missing something here.”
“That’s the story of our lives right now, boss,” Marco snorts.
“Are there backups?” Ton asks. “Another set of lockers?”
“No,” Red says. “No backups.”
“Then we go to another base,” Ton says. “But we don’t stay here.”
Red stares at the empty lockers for a minute then nods.
“Fine,” he says. “Another base. If the cooties haven’t gotten to them all.”
“We’ll get ahead of them,” Nick says. “We have to.”
“Yeah,” Red says. “We have to.”
5
“We have to keep ahead of them!” Hoagie yells from his makeshift sled, his eyes locked onto the far off shapes of the Sicklands bug hounds that have been trailing them across the grey and barren landscape for what feels like forever. “We can’t slow down!”
“You think?” Milo shouts as he hobbles along beside the sled, his eyes darting from the GenWreck and GenSOF bug hounds that are pulling the sled, to the boy that leads them all. “Jude? How far until we get to this bunker?”
“No more than a click,” Jude calls over his shoulder, an older rifle clutched in his hands. “We’ll make it.”
“It’ll be close,” Milo states. “Can we get inside and secured before the bug hounds catch up?”
“We have to,” Jude says.
“Yeah, I know we have to,” Milo snaps. “That wasn’t my question.”
Jude glances over his shoulder and shoots Milo a look far beyond his years.
“We have to,” Jude repeats. “That’s the only answer, no matter what the question is.”
“Roger,” Milo nods, not wanting to argue with the boy. “Just checking.”
Hoagie holds up a static baton and snaps his wrist, causing the weapon to grow and turn into a full-sized rifle. He puts the rifle to his shoulder and tries to activate his StatSuit armor, but the power has run out.
“Shit,” he grumbles. “I want a closer look through the visor scope. And with my PSC gone I can’t bring up my IRIS.”
“Why do you want a closer look?” Jude asks. “All you’ll see are Sicklands bug hounds. They’re ugly. What else do you need to know?”
“How many coming at us would be nice,” Hoagie says.
“Too many to fight and survive,” Jude shrugs. “Exact numbers are useless.”
“T
his kid is really getting on my nerves,” Hoagie says. “The second my legs are healed up enough we should ditch his ass.”
“I can hear you,” Jude says.
“I know,” Hoagie replies.
“Leave the kid alone,” Milo says. “We’d be dead without him. We’ve lost this pack of bug hounds three times so far. We’ll lose them again. Just chill.”
“We may keep losing them, but they also keep finding us,” Hoagie grumbles. “We’re just running from bolt hole to bolt hole.”
Several of the bug hounds pulling Hoagie’s sled snort and growl.
“You haven’t been doing much running,” Jude says, voicing the dogs’ implied sentiments. “But plenty of complaining.”
“Milo, man, I think you lied to me,” Hoagie says. “I didn’t survive that slide fight with those Clean Guard fuckers. I actually died and am in smart ass kid Hell.”
“Leave him alone, Hoag,” Milo replies. “Seriously. You’re the one acting like a kid here. Just shut up until we get to the bunker. Once there you can bitch and moan all you want. But until then you need to shut it.”
“Screw you,” Hoagie responds, but does shut up, his eyes focused on the growing pack of Sicklands bug hounds pursuing them.
They keep moving in silence, but something about the pack of bug hounds begins to gnaw at Hoagie. He starts to speak then closes his mouth so he doesn’t get yelled at. He watches as the pack gets closer and closer, but is still luckily a good half a click behind them.
Then it hits him as to what he is seeing.
“Shit,” Hoagie mumbles. “Hey, guys?”
“What?” Milo sighs, grunting slightly as he nearly trips over a cluster of rocks in his way.
“Those aren’t just dogs,” Hoagie says. “There are cooties in there too.”
Milo slows his loping gait enough to glance back over his shoulder. He frowns and shakes his head.
“Too low to the ground,” Milo says. “Those are bug hounds.”
“No, man, not all of them,” Hoagie says. “I swear there are cooties in that pack too. It looks like they’re running on all fours, acting like fucking bug hounds.”