"It’s a go, I repeat, it’s a go," Major Harris’ voice sounded over the radio.
Captain Smithson got up and came to stand behind the driver and me, resting one hand on the back of each chair. He pointed to the road to the left of the apartment blocks - Ascot Vale Road. Our company’s objective was to advance up this street and then disembark and assault the apartments from the flank. Another company would do the same in Crown Street, which was on the other side of the apartments. The two centre companies would mount a frontal assault. I didn't fancy their chances of getting up to the twelfth floor.
"You ready, Jones?" Captain Smithson asked.
"May I suggest we disembark when we reach Ascot Vale Road and go in on foot?" I asked. The fact was, while I was cooped up inside the Bushmaster I couldn't use flash sonar, and therefore my ability to spot ambushes and booby traps was severely hampered.
"We will proceed as ordered, Jones," the captain said. He turned to the driver. "Okay private, proceed."
The driver caressed the accelerator and the Bushmaster moved slowly over the cracked and pitted concrete and asphalt. We entered Ascot Vale Road, the twelve-story apartments towering above us to our right and two-story town houses on our left. Fifty meters in, the burnt out, rusting wreck of an old Holden Commodore was blocking the right lane, forcing us to go left.
But as soon as we passed the wreck I noticed a suspicious shape on the road directly ahead, concealed by a filthy, tattered tarpaulin. And I reckoned I could just make out a thin wire twinkling in the sun light that ran from whatever was under the blanket to the other side of the road.
"Stop! Skel booby trap ahead!" I exclaimed urgently.
The private slammed on the brakes.
"Where?" Captain Smithson demanded.
"Bomb, under that blanket, sir," I informed him.
"Blast it! Right, we'll have to disembark here, then," the captain said as he reached for his radio.
But before the captain could give the order, the Custodian operating the Bushmaster's roof mounted 7.62mm machine gun must have spotted Skel for he suddenly opened fire. However, after only two bursts of sustained fire, he cried out and slumped back into the passenger compartment with a crossbow bolt through his neck.
The platoon's medic leaped from his seat and tried to provide medical assistance to the unfortunate private, but I could tell from his expression that there was nothing he could do.
Fearing the worst, I gave my attention back to the street outside, and was just in time to see a Skel step out from behind the corner of a building further up the street. He was carrying a rocket launcher on his shoulder, which he promptly aimed it at us.
"Get down!" I screamed as I twisted out of my seat and flung myself head first into the passenger compartment, squirming my way past the medic and the lifeless machine gunner. I grabbed the captain and pulled him after me as I went. As soon as I hit the deck I pressed my palms firmly against my ears, and then grunted in pain when the captain fell half on top of me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Thanks to my hands being pressed to my ears, all I heard when the rocket hit the front of the Bushmaster was a loud but muffled BANG. And as the vehicle's armour was designed to stop bullets only, the rocket easily penetrated the armour and with a terrible, irrepressible explosion, blew apart the Bushmaster's engine. Shards of glass, plastic and metal, as well as clouds of acrid smoke, poured into the back of the Bushmaster.
The Custodian passengers crowding the crew compartment cringed away from the explosion with cries of alarm, but my heart went out for the driver, for there was no way he could have survived that.
Coughing and spluttering from the smoke, I peeled my hands off my ears and tried to push myself upright, which proved virtually impossible due to the captain having fallen half across my back.
Wedged in between the legs of several Custodians who were apparently trying to cough their lungs out, I tried again to extricate myself from beneath the captain, when several glass bottles hit and shattered against the Bushmaster's side and roof. The vehicle was immediately engulfed with the pungent fumes of petrol and smoke.
"Bail out, bail out!" Captain Smithson bellowed at the top of his lungs as he climbed off my back.
Private Kostopoulos, who was the closest to the rear door, jumped up out of his seat and yanked down the door handle. He shoved the door open and revealed a scene straight out of Dante's inferno. As I was by habit already using flash sonar, I could see the entire horrific panorama.
The second Bushmaster and three of the G-Wagons had been hit by Molotov cocktails and were on fire, black smoke pouring upwards from hungry orange and yellow flames. Several Molotovs had missed their targets; the wine bottles shattering when they impacted the road, causing even more fire and smoke.
Desperate to escape their burning vehicles, Custodians had climbed frantically out doors, windows, and hatches. Some left their weapons behind in their haste to escape while others were shrieking in agony as they beat their hands against burning clothes.
Worse still, Skel warriors had charged out of the buildings on both sides of the street, their bone armour standing out in stark relief against the fierce flames and plumes of twisting, black smoke. They bellowed terrifying war cries and fell upon the hapless Custodians with crossbows, guns and clubs, attacking them with a fury that could only be described as psychotic. Some Custodians were fighting back, for I could hear sporadic gunfire.
Private Kostopoulos was about to leap from our smoke filled Bushmaster, but before he could, a massive, obese Skel strode suddenly out of the swirling smoke, grabbed him with one hand, and yanked him head first from the vehicle. The Skel turned back to the Bushmaster and pulled back his right hand to throw something at us - and here my heart missed a beat - for he was holding a Molotov cocktail!
I didn't think - I just reacted. Like a jack in the box popping up, I sprang from the floor straight towards the Skel and grabbed his right hand with my left. At the same time, I drew the captain's pistol with my right hand, shoved it against his bare throat, and fired three shots in quick succession.
As the Skel toppled backwards I jumped out of the Bushmaster, plucked the burning Molotov cocktail from his loosening grip and flung the gruesome weapon at a building to my right, where it smashed and burst into flames.
Hearing Private Kostopoulos screaming in pain, I spun about and saw him lying on his side not far from the Bushmaster, curled into a ball and trying to protect his head with his arms while a Skel rained blow after blow upon him with a baseball bat.
I put a bullet through the side of the Skel's unarmoured neck and he went down like a tree being felled - straight for the Custodian. I leaped forward and threw myself against the Skel, causing him to fall beside the private instead of on top of him. Unfortunately, the impact sent pain from my chest wound exploding through my chest, temporarily immobilising me.
I rested for a moment with my hands on my knees while I waiting for the pain to subside. When it did, I helped Private Kostopoulos, who was favouring his broken right arm, to his feet. Aware he was looking at me in a new light, I led him back to Captain Smithson and other survivors from our Bushmaster, who had bailed out of the vehicle and were clustered around its rear door and readying their weapons.
There was a gunshot from across the street and one of the Custodian’s fell back, clutching his shoulder. I spun about, spotted a Skel gunman in a third story apartment window, and downed him with my second shot.
From a window of the second storey of a house across the street, a Skel unexpectedly popped into view and fired his crossbow at the captain. Mapping the bolt's trajectory with echolocation, I grabbed the captain and pulled him slightly to one side so that the bolt just narrowly missed his head. The Skel pulled back out of sight to reload his weapon before I could shoot him.
The captain appeared shell shocked and bewildered, so I pulled him closer and shouted into his face. "Sir! Put some men on those windows and get the others to put out the fires with the
extinguishers – I’ll take care of the Skel!"
That done, I turned back to the street and used echolocation to check out what was going down, and saw Skel warriors and Custodians locked in desperate hand-to-hand combat down the length of the column of burning Custodian vehicles. Worse, many Custodians had already been overcome by the Skel and were slumped on the cracked, weed infested asphalt road, either dead or sporting terrible wounds.
I had to act fast to save my comrades, so I sprinted through churning eddies of black smoke, heading for the nearest Skel. As I ran, I heard the captain shout to one of his men. "Sergeant Xiao, take your squad and stay on Jones – watch his back!"
The slender sergeant and his men immediately came running after me, their heavy boots tramping loudly in my wake. I guess I was glad for their support - just as long as they didn’t shoot me in the back accidentally.
The Custodians in the second Bushmaster had managed to force their way out of the vehicle, but two had fallen and the others were locked in frantic close quarters combat with three Skel brutes. I ran past them without slowing my pace and shot two of the Skel through the back of the neck. Sergeant Xiao and his three men paused to gun down the third.
Next I went to the aid a Custodian who was being driven towards a burning G-Wagon by two Skel with converted pickaxes. Two bullets and two more Skel hit the asphalt with jarring thuds. The Custodian I saved immediately went to the aid of a downed comrade who was screaming in pain from fearsome burns that covered his arms and face.
I saw another Skel throttling the life out of a Custodian on the far side of the burning G-Wagon, but as I had no clear shot there was nothing I could do. I turned to Sergeant Xiao. "Sergeant, go right!"
The sergeant spotted the Custodian in peril and nodded in comprehension. He and his men raced around to the other side of the vehicle and overpowered the Skel with strength of numbers.
I turned back to search for my next target when a Skel with human-skull shoulder-plates charged out of the smoke and swung his home-made club at my chest. I tried to dance back beyond his reach but tripped on a crack in the road and stumbled clumsily backwards instead. The club hit the bulletproof armoured jacket over my ribs with sufficient impact to send me sprawling to the ground and my pistol spinning from my grasp.
Clenching my teeth to control the agony lancing through my torso, I rolled quickly to the left, and just in time too, for the Skel’s club slammed into the spot I had just vacated.
A quick glance confirmed my pistol was out of reach, so my only hope to overcome the Skel was to use his lack of flexibility against him. So I scooted beside him on my hands and knees and stabbed him in the back of the knee with my combat knife. He hollered in pain and as he struggled to keep his balance, I scissor kicked his good leg, dropping him to the ground like a log. He didn't move after that, so the fall must have knocked him out.
I retrieved my pistol, ejected the almost spent magazine, slapped another one home, and then ran for the next G-Wagon. I came upon a Skel driving a lone Custodian backwards with powerful swings of a long-handled mallet. The Custodian was attempting to block the blows with his assault-rifle, but the nomad knocked the gun out of his hands and then hewed his bulletproof vest with such power that he knocked him to the ground.
I aimed my pistol at the Skel, but just as I was about to pull the trigger I realised I recognised this Custodian - he was the reprobate scumbag who had 'frisked' my wife back in the market - Private Kirkwood.
The private noticed me watching, hesitating to shoot, even though the Skel had lifted his mallet to finish him off.
The temptation to lower my pistol and let the Skel exact revenge upon the Custodian for the way he had mistreated my wife was so strong, but I'd never been one to indulge in revenge. So I fired two quick shots and the Skel went down - right on top of the private, pinning him to the ground.
I walked over to him and gave him the evil eye.
"Get this thing off me," Kirkwood demanded.
"Do it yourself," I snapped, and walked off.
While the private was straining to crawl out from beneath the heavy Skel corpse, Sergeant Xiao and his squad rushed around and met up with me from the other side of the G-Wagon, guns at the ready.
"All Skel on this side accounted for, Consultant," the sergeant reported respectfully. One of his men noticed Kirkwood's struggles and unfortunately, gave him a hand.
"This side too, sir," I said as I quickly scanned the street with flash sonar and confirmed all Skel were indeed down. It appeared the Skel who had been shooting at us from inside the buildings had been dealt with too.
All the same, we remained on guard as we made our way back towards Captain Smithson and the others, passing through a street littered with bodies and burnt out G-Wagons. Over half the forty Custodians who had formed Captain Smithson's Delta Company lay on the blood soaked road, either dead or severely wounded. And in their midst were the bodies of over a dozen grotesque Skel.
We found the captain in the midst of the carnage, directing the able-bodied Custodians to attend to the wounded. He acknowledged our return with a nod, and then his radio suddenly crackled to life. Major Harris' arrogant voice blared through. "Captain Smithson, Beta and Charlie Companies are trapped on the apartment block's first floor - can you assist?"
"That's a negative, Major," the captain replied without hesitation, "I've taken fifty percent casualties here and have many wounded. What about Alpha Company?"
"Alpha Company isn't responding to hails, presumed overrun by Skel," the major replied.
"Sir, send us to assist Beta and Charlie Companies," I suggested to the captain while glancing at Sergeant Xiao. The sergeant looked anxious but he nodded his agreement all the same. He was one tough, capable cookie, this Sergeant Xiao.
"You'll be one squad against who knows how many Skel, Jones," the captain pointed out adamantly.
"They'll never know what hit them, sir," I assured him.
The captain frowned at me as he spoke into his radio. "I can send one squad to provide assistance, Major. What is Beta and Charlie Companies' situation?"
"They have seized the first floor, but booby traps in the stairwells have blocked access to the second floor. Skel counter-attacks from the ground floor have cut off their escape route."
"Understood, sir, sending my men now," replied the captain, nodding to me to give us the go ahead.
I so didn't want to do this, but if I didn't, quite probably none of us would be getting home today, and the thought of Nanako sitting in my mother's house, trying to keep herself occupied while waiting for me to come back galvanised me into action.
I rushed back to our wrecked Bushmaster and collected several more clips of ammo, while the sergeant and his three men did the same.
"Alright, Consultant, where to now?" Sergeant Xiao asked.
"Follow me," I said, and then surprised him by running further up the road instead of back towards the front of the apartment block where Beta and Charlie Companies were holed up.
Upon reaching the back of the apartment blocks, I climbed a brick fence that had fallen half into the street, and then with the Custodians on my heels, moved quickly but quietly between the back of the apartments and the neighbouring houses. Twice I stopped and helped my comrades step over tripwires that would have set off Skel booby traps, until finally, we came out into Crown Street, and were confronted by a scene that would haunt me for the rest of my life.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A roadside bomb had hit Alpha Company's lead Bushmaster, all but blowing off its front wheels. It had also been gutted by fire, both inside and out. The charred, smoking corpse of a Custodian was draped over the Bushmaster's roof mounted machine gun, and all of the vehicle's hatches and windows had been blown out. From what I could tell, the Skel had succeeded in throwing a Molotov cocktail into the vehicle before the passengers could bail out, burning them to death and cooking off their ammunition.
The second Bushmaster was in no better condition - a rock
et had hit and penetrated the driver's compartment, after which it had been pelted with Molotovs too.
But it was the scene behind the two knocked out Bushmasters that caused me to retch. All four of Alpha Company's G-Wagons had been torched and their Custodian passengers - those who had managed to escape the flames and get out - had been butchered with typical Skel ferocity. Forty Custodians, dead. Just like that.
I'd warned the stupid general this would happen, but he wouldn't listen!
I tore my eyes from the grisly scene, pulled myself together, and led the Custodian squad to the end of the street. We were just around the corner from the front of the apartment blocks, so I could hear many Skel shouting and cursing, as well as Skel rifles and Custodian weapons being discharged.
I gestured to my comrades to come closer. "We're gonna get the drop on them by hitting them from behind. Aim for the backs of their necks if you can, otherwise just go full auto. If they charge us, fall back and keep firing. Okay?"
"We're ready, Consultant," the sergeant said, though he was clearly anything but, for his hands were shaking as he held his assault-rifle.
I readied my pistol and then with the Custodians on either side of me, ran around the corner into Edinburg Street.
Beta and Charlie Companies' vehicles were still in no-man's land; about fifty meters back from the apartments. The Bushmaster machine gunners were on overwatch, sending occasional short bursts of machine gun fire towards the apartment blocks' upper levels, duelling with Skel riflemen and crossbowmen. I guessed the major was in one of those vehicles, watching the disastrous battle unfold before his eyes.
Comforted to know our backs were safe, we ran for the closest apartment block's entrance, taking care to step over the bodies of several Custodians who had fallen foul of booby traps, and then darted into its ill-lit foyer, which was, as to be expected, a mess. Plaster had fallen from the ceiling, plaster wall panels had been kicked in, and leaves, dirt, and broken glass covered the floor. Several large concrete plant pots that had once livened up the place lay on their sides, cracked open. The no longer functioning elevator lay straight ahead, and the stairwell - which no longer had a door - was to the right.
Forager - the Complete Six Book Series (A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Series) Page 37