by Scott Moon
“Not exactly. I had to take a detour or three. Those TerroCom soldiers are hard chargers,” Thad said.
Most of what Sledge said next was garbled. “…my thoughts exactly. They’re really moving. You better pick up the pace.”
Thad was almost sprinting by the time he reached the next street. Spots danced in his vision as his muscles went into oxygen debt. No enemies were near him. He slowed to a walk and listened for Maximus.
Nothing.
No word from Mast.
Shaunte and Dixie were missing in a town that was being overrun by nightmares.
Shaunte’s voice burst through his radio. “Thaddeus Fry! Answer me!”
“I’m here, Shaunte. Calm down.” He put his back to a wall so he could concentrate on the radio without getting killed.
“Calm down!”
Maybe that wasn’t the best choice of words, he thought.
“I’m really in trouble, Thad.”
“What’s your location?”
She answered by giving him a town grid number ninety degrees and half a kilometer away from the TerroCom soldiers.
“Can you head toward the Mother Lode? We have TerroCom soldiers on the way there to fortify it and set up a safe zone.”
“No, Thaddeus, I can’t. You can help me or listen to me die because I am about to start screaming.”
He knew he was making the wrong decision as he ran to save her, but that didn’t stop him from making it.
The only good thing about his current plan was that the soldiers were drawing most of the creatures toward the Mother Lode, which wouldn’t play well with the people sheltering there if they ever learned they had been used as bait. He was down to two charge packs. Once he fired those off, he’d have a utility knife and his charming personality to save the planet.
Dixie’s voice squealed through his radio, drawing the attention of several spiders he’d crept past without alerting. “Thad! Why won’t you answer me!”
He turned, fired, checked the charge pack—almost empty, great. “I hear you, Dixie! Stop yelling. It draws their attention.”
“Tell me about it, Sheriff. I am surrounded like a drunk virgin on prom night,” she said.
“Okay, do you want to tell me where you are? Because I can easily save everyone at the same time,” Thad said, sarcasm dripping from the words.
“I’m sure you can, Thad. That’s why I called you and not Sledge. Well, I did call him, but couldn’t get through. I have been basically calling everyone. But now you’re going to pluck me out of danger. Which will put me in your debt…”
“Just tell me where you are,” Thad said.
“Well, no need to get testy.” She gave the coordinates, huffing for breath as she ran from whatever was chasing her.
Thad grimaced. Her crisis wasn’t exactly on the way to Shaunte’s emergency, but he thought he might be able to do both—so long as his ammunition held out, the creatures continued to surge toward the TerroComm soldiers, and he sidestepped any further complications.
Mast broke his concentration with radio squelch and a muchly urgent transmission. “Deputy One to Sheriff One, do you read me?”
“Yes, Mast. Have you found Maximus?”
“We are muchly together. I see you but cannot catch you. Would you please wait for us?” Mast asked.
“No can do, Mast. Shaunte and Dixie are in trouble. Time is of the essence,” Thad said.
“Yes, well… We are being pursued by a horrible selection of monsters. One of them may be their hive queen. But I am not an expert on such freaks,” Mast said.
Thad slowed to a walk, then stopped, then turned in a slow circle as he pieced a map together in his head. Ahead and to the right was Shaunte, ahead and to the left was Dixie, and back the way he had come was Mast and Maximus. Far enough away to be nearly a joke was his last real chance to identify the hive leader of this infestation unless Mast was correct in his assumption the murderous thing was after him and Maximus.
Sledge hailed him on the radio, but when he answered, it was Proletan he spoke with.
“Are you having trouble deciding which of your friends to save?” the assassin asked.
Thad wanted Sledge and Proletan to split up and help the others while he went after Shaunte, but he knew it was a mistake. Now was the time to concentrate their forces, not divide and be conquered. If he convinced Sledge and Proletan to attempt such a foolish, selfish plan, they would still leave the Mother Lode and the soldiers to face a lot more than they bargained for.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Trapped and Alone
Carter managed to keep his boss moving by threats, lies, and physical force. There was no way the woman wouldn’t carry out her threat to completely end his career when this was over. Her eyes were full of barely-contained hate when she looked at him.
But she was alive.
“There she is again, on top of that radio tower,” Ortega said. “Why can’t that woman just die. This is all her fault. I would never have brought IE to this hellish planet if she’d told me it was infested with these vile creatures!”
Carter didn’t argue. The idea that Dixie, or anyone else in Darklanding for that matter, had caused this plague of violence was ridiculous. Ortega exhausted him. At one point, he’d considered pushing her off a stairway they’d been using to escape a nasty cluster of the spider things. Fortunately for Ortega, his conscience grabbed him in its iron vice and forced him to do the right thing.
“One of those things bit me,” Ortega said, sliding to the roof top as tears flowed uncontrollably. “Why didn’t this happen to her? Why? What did I do to deserve this? I’m not like her. I’m a winner.”
“That’s not how it works,” Carter said, barely looking at her. He moved to the edge of the building they’d climbed to find a temporary respite from their inhuman enemies. Dixie had also sought higher ground, but with less success. A quick look through his range glasses revealed at least two bite marks on her lower legs. Her knuckles seemed to be bleeding as though she had punched one of her attackers in its mandibles.
He faced Ortega. “Let me look at that wound.” He cleaned it with a flask of whiskey he knew she carried, then fashioned a bandage out of his jumpsuit sleeve.
“Thank you, Carter,” she said in a soft voice. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch. Physical pain really isn’t my thing.”
He didn’t comment.
“Help me up,” she said. “I’ll do what you say until we get to safety. I understand now. You’re the expert. I’ll let you do your job.”
He pulled her to her feet, explaining the situation as she found her balance. “Something is drawing away a large number of the creatures. We have a narrow window of opportunity. If we move fast, we can make it to the Interstellar Enterprise apartments and call for reinforcements.”
“There won’t be any,” she said.
“Don’t play games with me, Mrs. Ortega. I know about the ships you have moving into the system for the big takeover. I’m discrete, not deaf.”
She shook her head. “I missed the last check-in. They were given strict orders not to proceed without my final order. Now it’s too late.”
Well damn, Carter thought.
“What do we do?” she asked.
“The only thing we can do is run for the IE apartments and hope my security team can hold them off until SagCon calls in their military assets,” he said. “I am still the head of my security team, right?”
“You do know how, or when rather, to strike a bargain,” Ortega said. “Consider yourself reinstated, full privileges and a raise for saving my life.”
Carter smiled. He was tired, but things were working out better than he had hoped. Hard work always paid off. Sometimes patience did as well. His boss was a toxic hag, but he’d done the right thing by not pushing her down the stairs to make his own escape easier.
“One thing, Carter. I need you to shoot that woman off the radio tower,” Ortega said.
“Not at this range,” he said.
&nb
sp; “Don’t play games. I know your abilities…and the specifications of the blaster you’re carrying. Take the shot, then take me to safety,” she said.
Carter stared at the growing crowd of mutant spiders below Dixie’s precarious position. He waited for the perfect moment, then spun, aimed, and fired at a centipede-spider the size of a panther that was climbing a fire escape to reach Ortega’s position.
The blaster bolt singed the woman’s hair but killed the thing about to bite her head off.
“There are more! Let’s get the hell out of here!” he shouted.
Terrified, she didn’t argue with him as he threw her onto the next rooftop.
He jumped after her, landing with practiced efficiency and rolling to his feet in time to shoot two spiders that followed him across the gap. Two direct hits sent two clouds of slimy mist falling toward the street.
“How did you do that?” Ortega asked, amazement making her look ten years younger.
“I practice,” he said. “A lot.” He grabbed her hand and raced to the stairs. “I’m taking you to the Mother Lode. It’s closer than our place and I’m guessing they will have a lot of people defending it.”
“You said you were taking me to the IE apartments. Your team is there. We can make a stand,” she said.
“I said that when I trusted you. There was a moment when you were acting like the woman I signed up to serve and protect. Then you told me to kill a woman for no reason when doing so would probably get us both killed. That’s a deal-breaker for me.”
“You don’t need a reason. I give you an order and you do it,” she said.
“That’s not good enough for me anymore.” He rushed her through the streets, narrowly avoiding contact with the aliens. The distance wasn’t far but seemed like a lifetime of danger and close calls.
When they arrived, he found that Leslie had organized Darklanding citizens and patrons of the Mother Lode into a defensive perimeter. Half brandished tools as weapons while the others hammered boards over windows and stacked furniture to block access points.
Leslie ignored Ortega. “I’m glad you made it, Carter. Get your ass inside. Bring the skinny bitch too if you want.”
***
Penelope tapped her foot nervously while the TerroCom soldiers on the dropship checked their gear a third and fourth time. The first squad had been thrown into Darklanding without much information. She wanted to get down there and see how bad they had mucked everything up.
“Let me do a PCI on your gear,” Sergeant Victory said.
She liked the man, a newer member of TerroCom but well respected by his men and General Adam Quincy. Unfortunately, she didn’t feel like a pre-combat inspection. Her gear was good. She’d done this before.
“He’s trying to do his job, Penelope,” Quincy said from his place across the aisle. “Don’t take it out on him because you’re pissed at me.”
“I’m not pissed at you, Adam. I’m just irritated I have so many exes and keep having to work with them,” she said, then nodded to Sergeant Victory.
The man checked her gear with pinpoint precision. “You’re good to go.”
“Of course,” she said. “Do you need me to do you?”
The man blushed despite his years and weathered skin. “I think my gear is squared away.”
“You think it’s squared away. That’s the point of a PCI, isn’t it?” She checked his armor, ammunition, and other essentials. “Don’t mind the general. He’s not that jealous, and I was just messing with you.”
“That’s not what I heard, about the general being jealous I mean,” Victory said.
Penelope couldn’t resist. “Maybe you can be my future ex-lover. That’s how my luck has been these days.”
General Adam Quincy pointed at Sergeant Victory and then the other side of the dropship. The man made a hasty retreat.
“Penelope, you’re lucky I let you come. You’re not a TerroCom soldier and so far, you’ve done nothing but disrupt the efficiency of my men.”
She knew he was right. “Do you want an apology or something?”
“I want a second chance.”
“I meant an apology for interfering with your soldiers.”
“No. They’re professionals. I’m not worried about them.” He paused. “Unlike your ex-husband, I haven’t gotten over you. Thought I did, but I didn’t. There. I said it.”
“You sure did say it,” Penelope said. “What’s gotten into you, Adam? You weren’t one of those ‘in touch with his feelings guys’ when we were an item.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this mission,” he said. “Tiberius isn’t right for you. Give me a second chance before it’s too late.”
“Deployment in thirty seconds,” Sergeant Victory shouted.
“Give me another chance. Tiberius Plastes isn’t right for you,” the general said.
“We’ll see.” She looked at the ramp that was about to drop. “You can buy me a drink when we survive this. Don’t get your hopes up about anything that might come later.”
The ship touched the street and the ramp slammed down. Penelope and the soldiers rushed into a nightmare battle. Monsters of every shape and size threw themselves at the Mother Lode. Citizens and the remains of the first TerroCom squad fought a desperate battle for survival.
Spiders scurried down walls, climbed out of street drains, and rushed over the boardwalks on each side of the asphalt street. Sergeant Victory took one half of the reinforcements, General Quincy took the other. She couldn’t believe he was here in the thick of the fight. Maybe he was showing off in a misguided attempt to get her back. Maybe he really cared about his men.
She decided it didn’t matter. Shooting and moving took her full attention.
***
Shaunte aimed her pistol into the shadows between two warehouses, edging forward as she chewed her lip. She had to go this way. The bad things were behind her. “Just be empty, just be empty, just be empty.”
A mischief of rats knocked over a trash barrel as they fled the oncoming wave of monster things. Shaunte leapt into the air as she squealed. Despite the danger of her current situation, she smoothed her outfit and collected herself. No one saw her outburst, thank goodness.
The chittering sounds approached.
“Right! Time to go, Shaunte!” she said to herself as she ran toward a large freight car in the repair yard. It was up on blocks and had a very solid-looking door she could shut once she made it inside.
This wasn’t the way she wanted to go. Getting lost in the relatively small town of Darklanding had to be impossible, but she’d done it. At first, she’d been trying to reach Thad at the Cornelius Vandersun Correction Facility and Rehab Center, then she’d been trying to get anywhere safe.
She looked over her shoulder. Hundreds and hundreds of the little nightmares raced after her, gaining ground as though she were out for a casual stroll and they were being fired from a catapult. She grabbed the ladder steps and started to climb, scuffing the toe of her left shoe.
“Oh, drat.” She took off the shoes and tossed them into the black storage area of the freight car. The monsters sprinted, whistling word-like sounds that drove her crazy.
Up and up and up she went, sacrificing skin from her toes in lieu of damaging her designer shoes from Melborn. They hadn’t been anything as stylish as high heels, but neither could they be replaced on this planet.
The door was on rollers. She grabbed the handles with both hands and heaved it shut, shouting triumphantly as it boomed. Thousands of tiny feet and sharp pointy things pattered harmlessly against the exterior of the industrial strength box.
Exhausted, she sat against the wall, hugging herself. It was too dark to see her own hands. Safety had a price, it seemed. There was no way the small, scurrying versions of these monsters could break into her simple sanctuary.
Something heavy slammed against the door. Moments later, another massive form joined it. Soon, the door was rocking on the rails that kept it in place.
; Shaunte told herself she wouldn’t cry. Her body trembled with fatigue. That was something different from sobbing uncontrollably, she thought.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Desperate Measures
Proletan listened to the sheriff, promised he understood what the man wanted, then lied to his face.
Why would he wade into the center of the crisis to save a poorly-trained native unsuited to the type of violence the situation required and an animal that was as likely to bite him as it was to bite their mutual foe?
“You want me to help Mast and the pig-dog, then rendezvous at the Mother Lode for the last hurrah. Understood,” Proletan confirmed.
“Can you do it?” Thad asked. “I really need to know, because my gut says splitting up is a mistake. I’m relying on you. Can you live up to your reputation?”
“I can do it. No problem,” Proletan said, spreading his hands to display his large, perfectly muscled physique. “I am Proletan.”
“Okay. In that case, it’s time to move out.”
Proletan checked his gear with a few pats of his hands, a ritual he always performed despite his complete confidence in his pre-mission preparation. The weapons and gear Thad provided would be more than adequate for his purposes.
Having memorized the exact route he would travel from the town maps in Thad’s mission briefing, he jogged for a block to warm-up, then ran at an aggressive pace. He ignored the Yakti minions that tumbled toward him when he passed. Perhaps he should have explained to Thaddeus and the others what they were facing. No one knew where the Yakti came from. Many bio-war historians would be crap-their-pants excited to see a living incarnation of the flesh multipliers.
He didn’t know this creature’s full name. Evidence of three had been discovered on a derelict starship: Yakti-kaan, Yakti-droon, and Yakti-meglan. His access to the Melborn government’s secret files on the discovery had been limited to a brief perusal before he left the body of an unusually interesting victim. The scientist he’d been sent to kill had his workstation open when they met.
Proletan had been going through an emotional phase at the time. Discontent and bored with his life, he lingered too long with his victims in an attempt to learn what they had done to deserve his attention. The answers were never clear. Sometimes he stumbled across novel information.