Hellspawn (Book 3): Hellspawn Sentinel

by Ricky Fleet

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Corporal Hague sat behind the cage, like an animal in captivity, there for the amusement of the two bullying guards. His swollen face was aching and the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose were broken beyond repair, held together only with crude tape. The butterflies in his stomach were going to burst from his mouth at any moment, exposing his part in the coming assault.

  “I might take you home with me tonight,” rasped Corporal Groll though the steel mesh, licking his lips.

  “You a homo?” asked the other guard.

  “Fuck no,” Groll sounded disgusted, “I just want some fun, doesn’t make me queer.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather have Eldridge then?”

  “She will get her turn after I am done with him,” Groll rumbled, staring at the fearful soldier.

  “She may have something to say about that,” laughed the guard.

  “I have work to do if you don’t mind,” Hague tried to be more assertive and attempted to straighten the twisted glasses, but his words came out as a croaky whisper.

  “Oh you’re going to work for it alright,” Groll nodded.

  The hour was just past one in the morning and with each tick of the exaggeratedly loud clock hanging from the wall, destiny approached. Taking out a packet of cigarettes, Groll lit one and inhaled deeply.

  “I thought they were banned?”

  “Not for me,” Groll puffed out his chest, “Baxter has given me permission.”

  “What, on duty?”

  “Well, no. But it’s not like he is going to be up at this hour is it?” Groll replied, unsure of himself. The lieutenant was renowned for not needing much sleep and going hall to hall in stealthy silence to catch out the negligent.

  “Can you move away with that thing, it stinks.” Hague wrinkled his nose at the drifting tobacco smoke.

  “You want me to move away?” Groll laughed and took a drag, blowing the smoke straight at the seated corporal through the bars.

  “You are an animal,” complained Hague who wafted at the acrid smell.

  “You need to be careful when you talk to me, or I won’t be gentle later,” Groll holstered his pistol and leaned through the small opening, “You didn’t like my fists the last time.”

  The other guard was laughing at his unease and missed the furtive movement from the end of the corridor. Eldridge had risked a swift peek after hearing the commotion and could see the brutal bullies tormenting Hague. She knew the moment was the best they could get and stepped into full view, an easy target had they been paying attention. Hague saw her and the two guards mistook his panic for fear of them, laughing even more. Groll flicked the half burnt cigarette at the terrified corporal and it was if the showering sparks ignited all the fear and hatred that had been bubbling for weeks.

  “Fuck you,” Hague screamed as he grabbed a fistful of lank, greasy hair, slamming his head into the desk with enough force to daze Groll.

  Pulling out a sharpened dinner knife, he stabbed at the head and neck in a frenzy, the guard squealing in pain. Again and again the blade punctured skin and muscle, until a stray blow cut through part of his spinal cord and the body flopped to the floor. Groll’s companion had been caught totally off guard by the brutality of the meek soldier and raised his gun too late. Eldridge’s knife whistled down the hall as it cut the air, before burying itself to the hilt in his back. Twisting in spasms of pain and dropping the gun, he tried to reach behind until the second blade found his neck.

  “Hague, are you ok?” called out Eldridge as she ran toward him, flanked by several male soldiers.

  “Help me,” begged the second guard, but Harkiss just pulled the knife from the blood soaked throat and stabbed into his heart, stilling him. Groll looked up at them as his vital organs shut down from the severed nerves, and Eldridge smiled until his eyes glazed over.

  “Cunt,” she spat.

  “Hague?” Harkiss said quietly, seeing the pale man shaking and crying.

  “Open the cage,” said Eldridge, “It’s all over.”

  “I hate cigarettes,” he answered, then keyed the code into the lock.

  “You did good buddy,” Harkiss admitted, patting him on the back.

  “Do we hide the bodies?” asked Derby.

  “No,” Eldridge said, “We don’t have time to clean the blood anyway. Hague, you and Private Clarke are going to hold the cage in case we fuck up and they try and arm up.”

  Clarke got into position, rifle aimed down the shadowed hallway. Hague was looking at the corpse of Groll who was starting to awaken from death, eyes fluttering. Harkiss sighed, knelt down and stabbed the brains of the fallen.

  “Snap out of it,” Derby slapped him and the corporal came out of his daze.

  “I’m good, I won’t let them get in here,” he declared, taking his own weapon from the rack.

  “You and I will take Baxter,” Eldridge ordered Derby, then turned to Harkiss, “And you two will take Comms.”

  “Silence?” Derby asked, lifting a suppressor.

  “No, we want the rest of the barracks to hear the gunfire. Once the next four guards are dead, some of the loyalists will try take us out so I want everyone to know what is going down. If we can take out a few more here when they come for weapons our job will be that much easier. The rest may even give up without any more bloodshed,” she replied, strapping on a Virtus combat vest.

  “If you get killed, can I have your moisturizer?” Harkiss joked.

  “You need it for that flaky complexion,” she laughed.

  Arriving at the fork, they wished each other well and moved off as quietly as possible. It was agreed that Baxter was the priority and hence she and Derby would open fire first, which would cost Harkiss the element of surprise. It didn’t matter, events had been set into motion that could have only one conclusion; death or freedom.

  “Ready?” Eldridge whispered as she neared the officer’s quarters. Derby checked his safety was off and nodded.

  Knowing Baxter’s men would be fully alert, she rounded the corner with the trigger already pressed. The muzzle flashed and the line of impacts streaked towards the two guards in slow motion. Expertly trained, even they couldn’t draw fast enough to return fire and the slugs punched through their bodies, puffs of red mist bursting from the exit wounds. Slumping to the floor, the blood smeared the walls as the two soldiers rushed forward to cover Baxter’s room. More chattering fire came from the barracks, but this was met with gunshots fired back. She prayed they would be safe.

  “Baxter, come out with your hands up!” shouted Eldridge from the safety of the side of the door.

  “I’m afraid that you will have to come in and get me Private Eldridge,” he sounded remarkably calm, “Are my men dead?”

  “Almost,” she answered and put a bullet though each skull to prevent their reanimation.

  “That’s a shame, they were real soldiers, unlike your ragtag band of misfits and criminals,” Baxter said with regret.

  “If you give yourself up, I promise a fair hearing,” she explained.

  Faces appeared from the corner, trying to gauge what was happening. They were enemies of Baxter so Derby slid his pistol along the floor to their waiting hands.

  “Keep us covered,” he said, pointing to his eyes.

  “I see you have brought friends,” Baxter laughed, “I am going to enjoy punishing you.”

  “I don’t think you understand how this works. You are finished Baxter; your men are dead or being rounded up as we speak. Why don’t you save us a lot of shit and just come quietly?”

  “I have gathered a sizeable number of explosives and they are all wired to blow if you so much as touch that handle,” Baxter seemed to be enjoying the whole thing, “It seems we have a stalemate.”

  “Not really. We can starve you out, use tear gas, any one of a number of things,” Eldridge replied.

  “But not before I destroy most of this building.”

  “What do you suggest?” she asked.
<
br />   Harkiss joined them, nursing a wound to his cheek. The shallow furrow had cauterized itself as the bullet passed and if it had been an inch or two to the right, half of his face would be missing.

  “We have communications. Holbeck didn’t make it though,” he explained.

  “Get word out to command that we have the base,” she directed, “Tell them we have a situation and ask for orders.”

  “You got it,” Harkiss nodded and ran off to pass along the message.

  “So Baxter, what is it going to be?” she asked again.

  “I guess he is thinking through his options?” Derby wondered but something seemed… off.

  “Baxter?”

  No answer.

  “Fuck it, I am going in, get everyone back,” Eldridge whispered and Derby ran down the corridor, ushering people clear. Knowing she was in mortal danger and bullets could tear through the door at any moment, she yelled and kicked at the lock. The flimsy door burst inward and the frigid air bit into her skin from the open window.

  “Mother fucker!” she screamed, running to the opening and looking out, “It was a bluff, get everyone out on the grounds and flush that prick out.”

  “On it,” came Derby’s reply.

  The darkness provided a thousand places to hide and if they didn’t find him before dawn, the chances are he would be long gone. Even without the light, by the time enough soldiers were dressed, armed and carrying torches to scan the perimeter he could have escaped.

  “Fuck!” Eldridge shouted into the night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  “This is Admiral Wright, to whom am I speaking, over,” squawked the radio.

  “Private Eldridge, sir. Did Corporal Graff bring you up to speed? Over,” she answered.

  “Yes he did, Private and I must say I am deeply troubled by what has gone on there. Do you have Lieutenant Baxter in custody? Over.”

  “I am sorry to say he has currently eluded us, sir. We have everyone at our disposal scouring the grounds for any sign of him, over.”

  “That is unfortunate. I am sending someone to take command at first light, I trust they will receive a warmer welcome than my previous reconnaissance party? Over,” came the Admirals reply.

  “You can count on it, sir, over.”

  “Eldridge?” he asked, ignoring protocol.

  “Sir?”

  “You did remarkable work there against an armed force. I want a full briefing when you join me on Dauntless. Until then, you are in command, do what you can to apprehend that rabid dog, but don’t put any more lives in danger, do you understand? Over.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Over and out.”

  Addressing the emaciated and sick communication engineers, she said, “Go and get a shower, some food, and a good night’s rest.”

  “What about the radio?” Graff wondered.

  “I will station Jackson here to maintain contact. If anything urgent arises, he can come and get you. After weeks of being ignored, a few hours won’t hurt anyone.”

  Harkiss almost knocked the two men over as they were leaving, “There is no sign of him. A hole has been cut in the fence, but unless he swam in the freezing water I don’t see how he can have escaped.”

  “He’s a slippery bastard,” she agreed, “Have we secured the choppers and flight crew?”

  “As soon as we retook the place,” Harkiss confirmed.

  “Then he is either hiding somewhere, drowned, or on foot, soaked and cold with millions of zombies on the loose,” she said, shrugging.

  “We will keep looking all night. What do you want done with the prisoners?”

  “Lock them up until the new commander arrives. They can decide on their fate, because right now I would shoot every last one of them.”

  Saluting, he nodded and made off to follow the order.

  “Make sure you get that cheek looked at too!” she called out.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Leaving the communication room, she walked among the jubilant soldiers. Free of the repression of Baxter, they could finally be part of something bigger again and begin the fight back against the zombie legions. Whoops and cheers greeted her passage through the mess hall and dormitories. She protested, trying to deflect their admiration on the whole team, but it didn’t work. Word had spread like wildfire of the knife throwing heroics and even Hague was being hoisted on the shoulders of troops who had once mocked him. The broken glasses were lost in the huddle but he had never been happier or felt more included.

  “Where’s Morrow?” she asked the men.

  “He’s still on patrol,” said one who had been stood down after the lack of available torches hindered the search.

  “Can you go and find him for me?”

  “At once,” he saluted.

  Minutes later, Morrow returned with the man, disappointment evident on his features.

  “Still no sign I’m afraid,” he explained.

  “Don’t worry about that, he will turn up sooner or later. I want you to make sure the bird is ready to fly; I need your eyes in the sky to find our missing brothers.”

  “I can get her airborne now if you want and use thermal imaging?”

  “Idiot!” Eldridge slapped her own forehead, “Can you do a scout of the local area first? Concentrate on the marina and Emsworth Village. If he has made it off the base, we will nail the bastard.”

  The preparations were made and his subordinate gave the signal that the Watchkeeper drone was ready for reconnaissance. With expert care, the monitor showed the green tinged, night vision image of the runway as Morrow took flight.

  “Switching to thermal imaging,” Morrow said and switched the camera mode.

  The screen changed to varying hues of black, blue and green showing a total lack of heat. As the drone passed over the mass of zombies at the main gate, the red bodies of the guards paled in comparison to the thousands of cold, dead blue signatures of the walking corpses.

  “I guess we know for sure they really are dead,” Eldridge whispered, horrified by the movement of the massed bodies.

  “We will have a problem as we get closer to the site of the helicopter crash,” Morrow explained.

  “You mean the shot down helicopter?” Eldridge said, gritting her teeth as a fresh wave of hatred flowed through her veins.

  “Of course, sorry. I just hate even thinking about the poor bastards he’s killed, and the one’s I helped him kill…” He fell silent.

  “You didn’t have a choice, you know that,” she said sincerely.

  “Still doesn’t stop me dreaming about them.”

  “I think if we can put an end to Baxter, you may sleep a little easier.” She rubbed his shoulder.

  The fire of the burning fuel had raged through parts of the village and the glow could still be seen in the distance from the barracks. As the drone moved away from the zombies, everything was dark and lifeless beneath. The ocean was freezing and the black waves crashed onto the beach.

  “Marina clear,” Morrow informed her.

  “Do a fly past of the shops and then double back to the road leading to the barracks.”

  “You got it,” he answered.

  The village was abandoned, but the camera started to register the heat from the still smoldering remnants of the missile attack on the doomed troops. It was throwing the images off and some areas seemed to be moving, but it was just the angle of the drone. A patch of red and orange was backlit by a much fainter yellow and Eldridge pointed.

  “Go back, quickly!”

  Turning the Watchkeeper around, he performed another pass of the spot and it was only yellow.

  “I don’t see anything,” Morrow admitted.

  “Keep circling that area, I know I saw something. Zoom in a bit,” she said, leaning forward, willing to see his heat signature.

  For five minutes they circled and nothing else seemed out of place. The proximity of the radiated heat was casting a dull pall of amber across the scene.

  “Stay on it, I want
to go and check in with the search parties.”

  “I’ll call if I see anything else. How long do you want me to keep looking before I change mission to go and look for DB and Jonesy again?” he asked over his shoulder as she was leaving.

  “Thirty minutes,” she stepped through the door, then had a thought, “Do the drones have a maximum altitude?”

  “Yeah, about eighteen thousand feet. Why?”

  “Take the bird as high as you can, then have another look. I want to see if the sound is a factor or whether I am just seeing ghosts,” she ordered and he nodded, beginning the ascent.

  In the corridor the guards were dejected about their lack of success.

  “Sorry, we have searched as much as possible for the conditions. No sign of Baxter around the outer perimeter from the hole in the chain link.”

  “Don’t sweat it, he was always a slippery fucker.” She saluted and they hurried off to continue the fruitless exploration.

  Ten minutes later, Private Eldridge was looking out into the night from the central watchtower. The beams of flashlights cut through the darkness and she was proud to see their absolute determination to find the murdering psychopath. The radio came to life in her hand.

  “I think I have him, over,” shouted Morrow with excitement from the handset.

  “Slow down,” Eldridge cautioned, nerves of anticipation fluttering in her stomach, “What did you see? Over.”

  “The fire is still burning, but I swear I saw someone moving amongst the buildings. I think he is trying to use the heat to throw us off. Over.”

  “How certain are you? Over,” she asked breathlessly.

  “Eighty percent,” he replied, “No, ninety. Over.”

  “And it is just one person? It couldn’t be a group trying to use the heat to survive?”

  “Impossible. If it was survivors, they wouldn’t be moving from cover to cover. Besides, who the hell could survive in the middle of the village for this long anyway? Over.”

  “I was just trying to think of every possibility…” she pondered.