by Jake Bible
Blaze glances over and sees Paulo ducking and dodging lunges from three sick mutts as they try to get at him. He throws a half of the dog at the sick mutts, nailing one square in the back. The other sick mutts around Blaze use the distraction to come in at him, but he slams the last half of the dog into a sick mutt’s head, crushing its skull then jumps into the air, coming down on the back of another dog, snapping its spine.
The last sick mutts come at him fast, trying to use their numbers to overwhelm him, but he tucks his shoulder and charges into the attack, tossing a couple of sick mutts aside like an enraged running back. The dogs skid away across the street and Blaze lifts the last one up by the scruff of its neck then pounds it into the ground, over and over, until he’s only holding hide and pulp.
The two fallen sick mutts get back to their feet, but it’s too late for them. Blaze grabs one by the hind leg and rips it off then stabs it through its belly with its own snapped and jagged femur. The dog howls in pain and collapses next to its pack mate.
The last dog comes for Blaze, all fur and fury. Blaze meets it head on, a fist cocked back and ready. The sick mutt leaps and Blaze slams his clenched fist right between the dog’s eyes mid-air. A yelp and a snap are all that’s heard as the concussion ripples through the sick mutt’s body, snapping its neck instantly.
Blaze shakes his fist and looks down at the cracked and bleeding knuckles showing through his already tattered armored gloved.
“That one hurt,” he says to himself.
“Whine later, bruiser!” Paulo yells. “A little help!”
Paulo kicks at one sick mutt while he swings his rifle wide to keep the other three away. His back is up against the sidewalk incinerator and he has nowhere to go.
“Move!” Blaze shouts and sprints at Paulo.
He scoops up one of the sick mutts and jams its head into the incinerator just as Paulo ducks out of the way. There’s a static flash and the sick mutt’s body sags, half of its head smoking and gone.
The other two dogs go right for Paulo, but he manages to dispatch one with a rifle barrel through the eye. The other one he’s not so lucky with and ends up with nearly a couple hundred pounds of matted fur and muscle ramming him in the gut. The air is knocked out of Paulo and he collapses onto the sidewalk, the back of his head cracking hard against the concrete.
Blaze grabs the dog off before it can do any more damage, lifts it high, then snaps it in two over his leg. He throws the halves aside and falls to his knees next to Paulo.
“Paulo? Man? Talk to me, buddy,” Blaze says, patting Paulo on the cheeks.
“Stop…that,” Paulo mutters. “I know…where those hands…have been.”
Paulo gives Blaze a weak smile as he’s helped to his feet.
“Can you stand?” Blaze asks him.
“On my own? Fuck no,” Paulo says as he sways back and forth then slumps against Blaze.
“Doesn’t matter,” Collette says, flicking sick mutt gunk and brain from her rifle. “We can help him.”
Blaze looks past her at the sick mutt corpses she’s left behind.
“Nice work,” Blaze says.
“Told you I know how to fight those things,” Collette says. She points a finger at Paulo. “And I told you to use the surroundings against them, not for them to use the surroundings against you.”
“Oh, that’s what you said?” Paulo smiles weakly. “I got them reversed. Makes more sense your way.”
Collette takes one of Paulo’s arms as Blaze takes the other and they start walking down the sidewalk, aimed once again at the glowing beacon that is GenSOF Tower.
33
Red looks over his shoulder at the group of civvies behind him. Close to a hundred men and woman carry static rifles and pistols, their body language telling him they have no idea how to use the weapons. On the other hand, about a dozen other men and women walk on either side of huge crowd, their body language telling Red that they know exactly how to use the weapons they hold.
“You recognize the woman on the left?” Red asks Ton as the two men walk side by side. “Black, curly hair. Scar across her nose and cheek.”
Ton takes a quick look and frowns.
“Not sure,” Ton replies. “She looks like someone, but I can’t figure out who.”
“Mantis Squad,” Red says. “She went missing when we were rookies. Whole squad did.”
“Can’t be her,” Ton says. “Too young.”
“That guy just behind her is from Talon Squad,” Red insists. “Same thing. Went missing our first year in the squads. That was a rough year for GenSOF.”
“Command was still figuring shit out,” Ton says. “Going from war mode to elite mode wasn’t easy. The Unseen Wars redefined everything.”
Ton takes a look at the man and shakes his head.
“He’s too young also,” Ton says. “He’d be in his forties now. The guy doesn’t look older than twenties.”
“It’s him,” Red says. “Same with the woman. The others are MIA GenSOF operators as well. All of them. Look how they move, how they carry themselves. GenSOF, I’d swear anything on it.”
“Doesn’t make sense,” Ton says.
“The bugs in our guts help us heal faster and age slower,” Red says. “Not that slow, but what if they have different bugs?”
“If it’s them then why didn’t they come back to GenSOF?” Ton asks. “Why stay MIA?”
“Anything you’d like to ask me, gentlemen?” Tanya asks, smiling as she walks up next to them, pushing past the other operators that lead the way through the empty Caldicott City street. “I can’t give you all the answers, but I may be able to give you some.”
“Are they GenSOF?” Red asks.
“No,” Tanya replies without hesitation.
“See,” Ton says.
“They used to be, but they stopped being part of that restrictive organization a long time ago,” Tanya says. “They have been under my domain for some time now.”
“Shit,” Ton responds. “So they used to be GenSOF? Why the hell did they leave?”
“They didn’t leave,” Tanya says. “All of the men and women you see were the unfortunate victims of bacterial infections that could not be reversed. But, under my care, I was able to halt the effects of the infections long enough for their systems to adapt to the new strains inside them. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t side effects.”
“Such as?” Red asks.
“They lack independent thought,” Tanya says. She looks pained by the admission. “Their cognitive functions are still at GenSOF levels, but they should be considered more bacterial automatons than free thinking members of society.”
“Bug bots,” Jersey interrupts. “An urban legend amongst the techies in the Burn. Some stim freak always has a story that they saw one, but no one has ever confirmed it.”
“I just did,” Tanya says. “We were able to stop any further loses by creating the strains that counteracted the invading bacteria. But, those individuals we couldn’t let stay within the city walls. So we sent them into the Sicklands, hoping they’d spread their new bacteria amongst the samples, or cooties, and wipe the land clean. That has proven not to work so well.”
“Hold the fuck up a minute,” Ton says, stopping. He grabs Tanya by the arm and the distinct sound of boots hurrying towards them can be heard.
“No,” Tanya says, holding up a hand.
Ton looks back to see her people stopped in mid-stride, their rifles to their shoulders and aimed at Ton.
“Can we keep walking, please?” Tanya asks. “We have a few more blocks to cover before we reach the tower.”
“Come on, Ton,” Red says. “We can talk and walk.”
“I want answers,” Ton says, letting Tanya go.
The group starts up again and Ton glares at the woman until she sighs and begins.
“You want to know if I am talking about GenWrecks, yes?” Tanya asks. “Yes, Lieutenant, I am. GenWrecks were sent into the Sicklands with specific strains in t
hem that we thought would wipe out the samples. But, Nature refuses to play by the rules and the bacteria adapted, as it always does, and the samples have grown in numbers.”
“Samples? You sound like Control,” Jersey says.
Tanya smiles.
“Those people, your operators, they’re failed GenWrecks?” Red asks.
“No, they are not failures,” Tanya says, shaking her head. “They are casualties. As are you. We were just able to keep your reasoning intact and utilize you for new tasks. It is unfortunate those tasks could not be executed. Although, I do have to say, the GenWrecks have done a fine job keeping the sample population under control with more classic methods.”
“We only defend ourselves out there,” Red says. “We never attack them unless they attack us.”
“And do they ever stop attacking you?” Tanya asks.
“No,” Red frowns.
“Then there is no point in making the distinction,” Tanya says. “You need not assuage your guilt by creating rationalizations. The samples stopped being individuals a long time ago.” She nods back towards her people. “They are just more primitive forms of my loyal operators.”
“Too bad you couldn’t keep the cooties from breeding,” Red says. “That would solve a few things.”
“We tried,” Tanya says. “One of the strains you carry was supposed to make them sterile. It worked with the GenWrecks, but did not transfer to the samples.”
“It didn’t transfer because it didn’t work,” Red says. “GenWrecks can have children.”
For the first time since meeting her, Tanya’s face shows genuine surprise. “That cannot be. Have you witnessed this?”
“Red has a son,” Ton says. “We’ve met him.”
“A son? That was born in the Sicklands?” Tanya asks, the war between alarm and interest making her voice shake.
“Yes,” Red says.
Tanya’s eyes narrow and her teeth grind together.
“Who is the mother?” she asks, aggression overtaking the alarm and interest. “Tell me now.”
“I don’t think so,” Red says. “I’m not going to compromise her.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Tanya says. “I believe I already know. I’ve read your file. I’ve had you monitored in the Sicklands, just like all the GenWrecks. I wasn’t aware the child was actually yours. I figured you had adopted a sample boy and got lucky he did not grow up to be an imbecile.”
“You know what, lady?” Red snaps. “I really don’t think I like you.”
“No reason you should,” Tanya smiles. “I am not a very likable person. It’s a good thing I do not care whether I am liked or not.”
“Must have been a load of fun for Blaze to grow up with you,” Jersey snorts.
“Simon’s childhood was unorthodox, to say the least,” Tanya says. “Fun was never the objective.” She returns her attention to Red. “I will speak with you more about your son, Mr. Blakely. I have a lot of questions to ask.”
“Can we save the chatter for later?” Wallace snaps. “We’re getting close.”
“There should be noise,” Ton says. “Why isn’t there noise?”
Red raises his fist and everyone stops. More than a few of the civvies run into each other, not knowing the signal, but they manage not to make too much commotion doing so.
“Nick? Wallace? You’re with me,” Ton says. “The rest of you stay here. We’ll scout ahead.”
“I would like to come as well,” Tanya says. “I may be able to assess the situation in ways you cannot.”
“I don’t know how,” Ton replies.
“Which is why I should come,” Tanya says. “If you did know how then you wouldn’t need me.”
“She’s a peach, ain’t she?” Red smirks.
“Come on,” Ton says to Tanya. “Stay close, stay out of our way, and stay quiet.”
“I can manage all three of those requests,” Tanya grins. “Lead the way, Lieutenant.”
“I’m coming,” Jersey says.
Ton starts to argue then rolls his eyes and nods.
Ton hurries forward, moving close to the buildings as he sprints down the street. The five move ahead three blocks before Ton stops at the corner of a building and takes a deep breath. He peeks around then ducks back quickly.
“Shit,” he says. “They’re waiting for us.”
“They saw you?” Wallace asks. “Not the time for rookie screw ups, Alton.”
“Have a look for yourself,” Ton says. “You may change your mind.”
Wallace switches positions with Ton and looks around the corner. She ducks back fast as well, her face white.
“Fuck me,” she says.
“Do I want to know?” Nick asks.
“Let me make an educated guess,” Tanya says. “There are hundreds of people standing there, city civilians and Sicklands residents alike. They are no longer interested in the GenSOF Tower, but are turned and facing this way. Correct?”
“Yeah,” Ton says.
“Seriously?” Nick asks.
“Seriously,” Wallace responds.
Tanya looks up at the buildings around them and points. “He has been watching us the whole way. He finally did it. Complete integration. That son of a bitch.”
“Who are you talking about?” Ton asks.
“The Other,” Tanya says. “The perfect melding of organic and inorganic technology.”
“Organic technology?” Wallace asks. “What the hell is that?”
“You, Captain Wallace,” Tanya says, “and all of GenSOF. But especially my son. I just hope his technology is enough to match what we are up against. It will have triggered by now. If the programming holds then he should have passed the berserker stage and moved into the conscious stage. Next will be the hyper aware stage. That would be fortunate for us. Unfortunate for those poor people out there, though. Very unfortunate.”
“What comes after that stage?” Ton asks.
“Transformation,” Tanya says and gives Jersey a sad look. “Sorry, dear, but the man you know will not be the same after this. He may not even be recognizable.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Jersey asks. “Not recognizable how?”
“Hard to say,” Tanya shrugs. “No specimen has made it this far before.”
“Specimen?” Ton asks. “That’s a weird way to talk about your own son.”
“Yes, well…” Tanya replies, leaving the words hanging there for everyone to ponder.
34
“Too many people, Blaze,” Paulo says. “Kicking some sick dogs’ asses is one thing, but this? No way the three of us can get through all of those fucking civvies and cooties.”
“I count nearly four hundred,” Collette says. “None of them armed, luckily. But neither are we.”
“Yeah,” Paulo says. “These rifles for clubs won’t cut it anymore, man.”
“We just have to get past them and inside,” Blaze says. “That’s all we have to do.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Paulo says. “I get the plan, I just don’t see how we can execute it.”
“It’s because you can’t see straight,” Blaze says. “You should sit this one out.”
“Ha ha,” Paulo frowns. “I didn’t hit my head that hard.”
“You collided with the sidewalk directly on the seam of your parietal and occipital bones,” Blaze says. “You have a mild concussion, enough to impair reasoning and reaction times. Sit this out, Paulo, or you could get yourself killed.”
“Did you just say parietal?” Collette asks.
“He also said occipital,” Paulo adds. “Big words there, Sergeant Crouch.”
Blaze looks at them, puzzled and confused. “Yeah…I, uh, just remembered everything I learned in my GenSOF anatomy and physiology courses. Like everything. I could probably perform surgery on either one of you flawlessly.”
“Which neither of us are consenting to, by the way,” Paulo says.
“You sureyou don’t have the concussion?” Collette asks, moving close
to Blaze. She takes his chin in her hand and moves his head back and forth, her eyes studying his. “Eyes are clear. Pupils a little dilated, but that’s from the adrenaline. Your breath is nasty, though. Like your bugs are eating you from the inside out.”
“He’s always had shit for breath,” Paulo says. “Probably because he has the Golden Gut.”
“Could be,” Collette says, letting go of Blaze and stepping back. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I clear us a path,” Blaze says, eyeing the mob of civvies and cooties that stand before the wrecked entrance to GenSOF Tower. “You two stay close to me and watch my back. I probably won’t need it, but it’s better safe than sorry.”
“You’re just going to clear us a path through that?” Paulo asks, pointing past the corner of the building they are hiding next to. He jabs his hand a few times for emphasis. “Four hundred freaks are out there in the open, man. This isn’t some contained stairwell. You don’t have the advantage of position or a closed space to funnel them through. They will pounce on you and crush you before you get five feet.”
“I doubt that,” Blaze says, his eyes studying the mob. “The two dozen on the right are injured. Look how they are standing. I go in that way then cut immediately to the left. After that, I zig zag back and forth, going six feet with each turn. By the time I have hit the middle, I’ll have created a barrier of corpses that will slow the others. Then I have positional advantage and can funnel the rest. Not that I need to. If I didn’t have to worry about you two, I could go in from the left and I’d be at the entrance in under nine minutes. Possibly ten. I’m still calculating.”
“Fuck your clear eyes diagnosis,” Paulo says to Collette. He turns to Blaze. “You have lost your ever loving mind, brother. Fucking lost it.”
“I have an eighty-five percent chance of survival,” Blaze says. “Seventy-five percent chance of making it with only minor cuts and bruises. Those are good odds. Better than we usually face as a squad out in the Sicklands.”
“Bullshit,” Paulo says. “Out in the Sicklands we have weapons and a transport. Our odds are way better than this!”