Winter Cove

by Skye Knizley

  There were only three rooms left. They found clues in the next one. Though the bed was empty and there were no signs of a struggle, Richie’s jacket and bloodstained shirt both lay on the chair beside the bed.

  “So where is he? Do you think he became one of those…things?”

  River looked at the mass behind them. In spite of their wounds, most were still recognizable as human, no doubt they would be easily identified by loved ones. None of them resembled Richard in the slightest.

  “If he is, he isn’t here. Can you tell anything from the monitors?”

  Rylee bent over them and set to work. “Let me check, I should be able to make something out of them…”

  River leaned against the wall and watched the infected. They stared back, their eyes alternating between hateful glances at the amulet and gazes of hunger at Rylee. As she watched, they started to reach into the light as if testing to see if it would harm them. They pulled their hands back and looked at them, then looked at River, then back at their hands.

  “I think these things are getting brave, Rye. Hurry up!”

  “Keep your panties on, bish. Okay, I got it. It looks like he’s been getting stronger, his pulse was back up to normal and his blood-oxygen is good. He was unhooked and the monitors stopped a couple hours ago,” Rylee said.

  She straightened and joined River at the door. “He was unhooked, he didn’t die. He was taken somewhere else.”

  “Then let’s go, before they figure out this is just a lightbulb to them.”

  River used the amulet to force the infected out of the doorway. She guided Rylee through them and back down the corridor. As soon as they were past the creatures, they broke into a jog until they reached the elevator, which was still there. They stepped inside and River pressed the button for the first floor with her thumb.

  “Come on, dammit, come on!”

  The doors closed with that epic slowness experienced only by those late for a meeting or fleeing for their lives. They rolled shut a scant moment before the first of the infected slammed into them. The elevator began to rise and dents appeared in the doors, which threatened to bend inward with every impact. River pulled Rylee away from the door and kept her shotgun ready, just in case.

  Above them, more infected were standing in the broken doorway, waiting. River could hear them, hear the dull thump as the dumber or braver ones fell into the shaft and crashed into the roof. It wasn’t long before they reached the second floor and the waiting mob. River fired the shotgun into them until it was empty, then she handed it to Rylee and raised the amulet.

  “Give me your pistol and reload the shotgun!”

  Rylee complied without a word, she simply handed the pistol to River and took a knee beside her to reload the shotgun. River stepped forward with the amulet, which forced the majority of the infected back. Anyone that reached into the car was met with a nine millimeter bullet to the forehead. Even so, hands grabbed at her as they passed and she was forced to punch and kick to keep them at bay once the pistol clicked empty.

  Rylee rose beside her and started firing the shotgun. “Eat leaden death!”

  Soon, they were past and River sagged against the wall. Blood ran freely from cuts in her arms and torso and she stung all over, but they were alive.

  “Eat leaden death?” she asked, dabbing at a cut on her arm.

  Rylee shrugged. “It was all I could think of in the heat of the moment. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. The bleeding is already stopping. Did you get any on you?”

  “No. You took the brunt, like always,” Rylee said.

  River smiled. “It’s my job, babes. I have the magic lightbulb.”

  Rylee stood and pressed into her. “You’re damn sexy when you’re kicking ass. When we get out of this I’m going to pay people to pick fights just so I can watch you do your thing.”

  River kissed her nose. “You’re crazy, you know that, right?”

  Rylee grinned. “Yeah, but it’s a good crazy, like Liberace meets Bugs Bunny.”

  River laughed and hugged her tight then let go. The elevator was almost to the first floor and she needed to be ready. She reloaded the pistol from a spare magazine on Rylee’s belt and watched the doors. As the car pulled slowed to a stop she could see dark shapes just beyond the lights of the foyer.

  “We could be in trouble, Rye.”

  Rylee chambered a round in the shotgun and nodded grimly. “Let’s do this.”

  “Do not shoot, Hunter. I want to talk,” a voice said.

  The doors rolled aside and stopped with a thud that sounded final, as if the elevator would never work again. Standing just outside was Lindquist. He had his hands behind his head and he’d discarded his sidearm. Behind him were a dozen of the sec-men, weapons at their sides.

  River aimed her pistol at Lindquist’s head. “Give us Richie and Jody and let us go. We aren’t a threat to you.”

  Lindquist smiled. “On the contrary, Hunter, you are quite a threat. You are quite impressive, not bad for a ‘truck driver’. Not bad at all.”

  River could hear the sarcasm in his voice, it made her finger itch on the trigger. “What do you want, Lindquist?”

  “You. You and your little partner have managed to not only be a thorn in my side, you killed a full-grown Overlord with nothing but a pistol and that ancient trinket. Where did you find it?” Lindquist asked.

  River touched the stone hanging between her breasts. “That’s classified.”

  Two could play that silly game.

  Lindquist chuckled and shook his head. “Perhaps I should have asked, how did you get it out of the sarcophagus at Station Obsidian? Minds far more intelligent than yours have tried for decades.”

  “Maybe you should have tried the magic word,” Rylee said.

  Lindquist ignored her. “Diamond drills, explosives, crowbars and far cruder methods, yet you simply touched the box and it opened. Fascinating. What did she look like?”

  “Who?”

  Lindquist’s face darkened. “Do not press me, Hunter. The ancient in the sarcophagus. Was she preserved?”

  River was tempted to put a bullet in his head. She’d met crazy more than once. People who thought violence and pain were good things, they never ended well. But killing Lindquist would get them executed.

  “It was empty. No body, nothing but this and a scarf.”

  Lindquist stepped forward, so close he could have kissed the warm barrel of River’s pistol if he’d wanted to. “You’re lying. Early scans showed each of the sarcophagi contained a body. What are you hiding?”

  River pressed the pistol against his lips. “Nothing! Are you so stupid you don’t know the truth when you hear it? I don’t know how I opened the box, I just did. Inside was a scarf that Rylee is wearing and the necklace.”

  Lindquist’s eyes narrowed and he stared at River. She stared back, unflinching. She’d faced worse than an asshole with an ego. After a moment, he stepped back.

  “As you say. Give me the necklace and you and your friends can go,” he said.

  “Why should we give it to you?” Rylee asked.

  Lindquist turned away and raised one finger. At that command, the sec-men raised their weapons. “You can give it to me, or I will take it off River’s corpse. I am through playing games with you two.”

  “Try and you die first, Lindquist,” River growled.

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “That may be. Do you really want to watch your wife bleed out with me?”

  The sec-men shifted their aim to Rylee, who paled. “On second thought, Riv, maybe we should give it to him. He has a strong argument.”

  River lowered her pistol and tugged the necklace over her head. “Alright, alright! Just take it!”

  Lindquist spun on his heel and smiled. It was a smug, self-satisfied smile that River wanted to punch into oblivio
n. His fist closed around the amulet and it emitted a bright white light as if in protest. Lindquist was thrown off his feet to land across the room, knocking several of the sec-men down with him. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and was helped up by the men around him.

  “I don’t think it likes you very much, Lindquist,” River said. “I can’t blame it, I don’t like you much either.”

  Lindquist tugged his uniform back into place with as much dignity as he could muster. “That was always a possible outcome, I had to be sure.”

  Rylee snickered. “Right, and I’m mother Theresa. You had no clue, Linny. The look on your face? Priceless.”

  River put the necklace over her head and smiled. She hoped it looked more confident than she felt.

  “What’s next, Lindquist?”

  There was a crackle of static and a new voice began to speak over the PA system. “A new deal, Ms. Hunter. The lives of your wife and friends in exchange for your help.”

  The voice sounded familiar, but River couldn’t place it. It was deep, with a hint of South African accent that didn’t belong.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “My name is not important, Sergeant. What is your answer?” the voice asked.

  “Sir! I can do this!” Lindquist said.

  “Officer Blye, shoot Werner Lindquist.”

  Lindquist spun and held up his hands as one of the sec-men stepped forward, weapon ready. “No! Sir, give me another chance, let me−”

  He never got to finish his sentence. Blye shot him point blank in the face, spraying both River and Rylee with his blood. His body sagged to the floor and Blye ejected his magazine and reloaded before stepping back into line.

  “That’s better,” the voice said. “Where were we? Ah, yes, your answer, Sergeant Hunter?”

  River stared at the blood seeping from Lindquist’s body. It pooled, crimson and thick, dripping into a square drain that vanished somewhere below. She imagined she could hear it splashing when it hit bottom. In the desert, it sounded like water, almost. There was a deeper quality to it as it dripped from her friend’s body into the sand.

  “Hunter! Your answer, if you please!”

  River continued to stare. There’d been so much blood, innocent blood. Their team was going home, for God’s sake! They didn’t deserve this!

  “Officer Blye, if the Sergeant doesn’t answer in five seconds, execute Rylee Hunter!”

  River saw Blye step back out of line, his weapon leveled at…leveled at…

  “Four—”

  River’s hand shook, she could feel her pistol against her leg.

  “Three.”

  She couldn’t focus. There was just so much blood, soaking into the sand. The desert ran thick with it.

  “Two!” the voice said.

  Rylee’s voice was cracked and high-pitched with fear. “Baby? I think we should do what he asks. Baby?”

  River closed her eyes. This wasn’t the desert. This wasn’t Kabul. She had to think.

  “One! Kill her, Blye!”

  The shot echoed in the lobby, so loud it made River’s ears ache. Rylee’s scream came a split-second later, almost as loud. River watched Blye’s body fall to the floor and lowered her pistol.

  “You have a deal, whoever the hell you are. Let my wife go,” River said.

  There was a long, pregnant pause.

  “No. Your wife will accompany you and the strike team. Your friends will be kept as insurance. Complete the job and they go free. Fail, and they all die with you,” the voice said.

  River looked at Rylee. “What’s the job?”

  “Simple,” the voice said. “I want you to save the world.”

  ***

  Twenty minutes later they were seated in the back of a Pave Hawk helicopter with a team of five, all hand-picked by the voice River had started calling Blake. All of the newcomers wore the same Sentynil uniform as the regular sec-men, save their faces were uncovered and they had a unit designation on their shoulders, a howling three-headed wolf.

  The leader, a tall black man with close-cropped hair and a scarred face, sat beside River.

  “Let me introduce you to your team,” he said over the noise of the rotors.

  River made a face. “Why? Do you really think any of us is getting out of this in one piece?”

  The man smiled. It was the first genuine smile she’d seen on any of the sec-men.

  “We might surprise you, Sarge,” he said. “My name is Scales. Corporal Scales.”

  One by one he pointed at his men. The first was a shorter man wearing a Spec-Ops style helmet. “This bastard is Hartwell. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s the best damn support gunner this side of the sandbox−”

  “Don’t,” River interrupted.

  Scales blinked. “What?”

  “Don’t call it the sandbox, it’s bullshit,” River said.

  She looked at Hartwell. “What are you carrying?”

  Hartwell grinned and kicked the black bag he’d tucked under the seat. “Heckler and Koch MG4 for support and an M90 shotgun for close encounters.”

  “Fine.” She turned back to Scales. “Who else?”

  Scales pointed at the next man in line. He was thin and even taller than Scales, with a face that belied his Nordic ancestry. “Carver, your third in command.”

  “Let me guess, Knife man?” River asked.

  Carver smirked and unzipped his duffel. Inside was an M90 shotgun with an axe around the barrel shroud.

  “I made this, never thought I would get to use it.”

  “What are you going to do with it? Execute trees?” Rylee asked.

  Carver winked at her. “Cut zombies down to size.”

  “Then we have Morse,” Scales said, pointing at a small man near the doors. “He’s our point man, carries a pair of silenced Ingram submachine guns.”

  Morse frowned beneath his hooked nose and hooded eyes. There was something about him that made River think of rats.

  “We don’t need you, woman.” His voice was barely a whisper, laced with menace.

  “Play nice, Morse. Last but not least is Darling.”

  Scales was pointing at a brute of a man standing in the middle of the hold. He had an M41 assault rifle slung across his chest and a machete-like sword at his hip. He smiled at River with some difficulty, it looked like the muscles in his face were fighting to get away from each other.

  “Nice to have you aboard, ma’am. Heard about you in Kabul, you earned that star and then some,” he said.

  “Er…thanks,” River said.

  “Dude, can you crack walnuts with your eyebrows?” Rylee asked.

  Darling’s brows knit. “Excuse me?”

  “Play nice, Rye,” River said, echoing Scales.

  Rylee looked at her, her eyes wide with innocence. “What’d I say? I like walnuts, bish!”

  Scales chuckled and reached under River’s seat for another bag. “I know you have a preference for the M9 Beretta, so I thought you might want this back.”

  He handed River her custom Beretta, the one they’d confiscated a few hours before. She checked the action and swapped it out with the Glock at her hip. “Thanks.”

  “You have your choice of the M4, Heckler and Koch MP5, M90 shotgun or the M249, pick your poison,” Scales continued.

  “I was always partial to the M4,” River said.

  “Thought so.”

  Scales pulled one out of his bag and offered it to River, who took it and held it over her knees.

  “What about me? Can I play, too?” Rylee asked.

  “We didn’t forget you, little lady. The boss said you’ve been partial to the M90, so here you go,” Scales said.

  He handed her a polished M90 shotgun with a side-saddle magazine and bandolier of ammunition. Rylee squealed like it was w
ere favorite toy in the box, and ran her hand down the barrel.

  “Oh, I shall call you Tinka,” she murmured. “And we shall be the best of friends.”

  “Just keep your friend pointed downrange, bitch,” Morse said.

  River was on her feet before the word was past his lips. Her hand snaked around his throat and she pushed him into the doorway face first.

  “That’s my wife. She’s saved my life more times than I can count, I need her. I don’t need you. Unless you want me to throw you out somewhere over Forq Mountain, check your tone and your language,” she said with as much menace as she could muster.

  “Let go of me you−”

  River slammed his face into the window hard enough the glass cracked. “Do you have a hearing problem?”

  Morse sniffed blood and shook his head. “No.”

  River held him a beat longer then let go and turned to the rest of the team. “That goes for all of you. For now, this is my team. You will do as I say or I will shoot you myself.”

  She met each one’s eyes, then dropped back into her seat between Scales and Rylee.

  “You are such a badass,” Rylee whispered.

  “Let’s hope they think so, too,” River whispered back. She looked at Scales and raised her voice. “Let’s get this thing in the air, then give me the skinny on this job.”

  Scales raised his headset and pressed a stud by his ear. “Yo, Cheech! Get us in the air, the boss says we’re a go.”

  River closed her eyes and listened to the helicopter’s turbines spooling up. The Pave Hawk began to vibrate, a rattle that made her fillings feel loose, then it leapt into the air. When she could swallow without tasting bile, she looked back at Scales.

  “Okay, so what is this door we’re supposed to close?”

  “I can only give you the grunt version, most of what happened is classified, way above our pay grade. Five days ago, the team at Sentynil Station Malachite cracked a tablet they’ve been trying to decipher for thirty years,” he said.

  “Right, the one taken from a scientist named Rebecca, so?”

  Scales nodded. “You know your stuff. The tablet was…well for lack of a better term it was a spell, a spell that opened a doorway.”

  “A doorway to what?” Rylee asked. “I’m guessing not a shoe sale at Bloomingdales.”