ATLAS 2 (ATLAS Series Book 2)

by Isaac Hooke

  I discovered flamethrowers worked wonders in close quarters. Fire at a crab clinging to your chest piece, and the thing instantly released you, howling in pain.

  I flung a bunch of the creatures from my body in this way, and then cut a swathe in front of me, using the intense heat to send the crabs leaping back in waves. It didn’t last, of course. They resorted to their dive in/dive out tactics again.

  I’d lost sight of Queequeg. My loyal friend was probably dead. Buried under one of those carapaces because I’d let myself become overwhelmed. I hadn’t been able to defend him, like a proper master should.

  Still, a part of me hoped he was alive.

  A weak, dying part.

  I released another long scythe of flame, and then launched a horizontal burst from my jetpack, wanting to quickly claim the space I’d cleared with my incendiaries. I must have thrusted at the wrong angle though because I found myself traveling both forward and upward.

  My head crashed into the ceiling at a forty-five-degree angle. I fell to the ground, landing in a prostrate position.

  Mental note: jetpacks and enclosed spaces don’t mix.

  “Get up!” Fan said, the urgency very clear in his voice.

  I’d forgotten about him, and to be honest, I was a little surprised he was still alive.

  But he was right.

  I had to get up. Crabs were already all over me.

  I used my incendiaries to send those crabs skittering away. Some of the jellied gasoline dripped onto my chest piece, but it instantly flickered out due to lack of oxygen. I sat up and tried to fire off more rounds, but both incendiary launchers clicked.

  So that was it. I had nothing left to attack with now, save Battlehawk’s body.

  When I rose, I saw the alien slug waiting just ahead, at the edge of the light cone cast by my headlamp. Its girth filled nearly the entire tunnel. Several crabs lurked between us.

  I instantly regretted expending my incendiary throwers. Without weapons of any kind, there was no way I was taking down that slug.

  But I wasn’t going to quit.

  I’d fight to the very end.

  Then I saw the Phants.

  The evil, malicious mist edged along the tunnel wall, seeping past the slug.

  The sight made me shrivel inside.

  So much for not quitting.

  There was nothing we could do now.

  We were, essentially, doomed.

  “I’m out of ammo!” Fan said.

  Like I said . . .

  A heavy blow from behind sent my mech stumbling forward, toward the Phants.

  The blow came again, and I collapsed entirely.

  I tried to move, but couldn’t.

  Multiple crabs had my ATLAS pinned.

  Ahead, the remaining crabs parted to allow the Phants through . . .

  I heard two thuds, and the weight shifted above me so that I was free.

  “Fan?” I said, starting to rise. Crabs still clung to Battlehawk, but there were too few to pin down the mech.

  “That was not me,” Fan answered.

  An inhuman cackle echoed above my head, then Queequeg landed in front of me, green steam rising from multiple wounds in his matted fur. His teeth were bared, and he growled defiantly as two crabs flowed off my mech and backed him toward the others. One of the Phants veered toward him.

  Feeling a sudden rage, I grabbed the closest crab and dragged it toward me as I rose to my full height. I crushed it underfoot, splattering its innards across the floor. I turned toward the other crab that threatened Queequeg, and bashed it against the wall with my fist. Its carapace burst into a meaty mess.

  No one touches my hybear.

  Queequeg leaped away from the Phant and ducked underneath the carapace of a crab as its pincers moved in to grab him. He deftly maneuvered to the other side of the crab and leaped up, clasping its umbilical cord between his jaws and biting down, severing it.

  The crab collapsed.

  Queequeg sidestepped another blow from behind, tearing off one of the heads of a third crab before leaping away.

  I bashed my way to his side, then Queequeg and I slowly retreated from the Phants, fighting our way back.

  “The Yaoguai. They come!”

  Fan was right.

  The mists were gaining.

  We weren’t going to make it.

  No.

  We were going to do this. We were going to win. I didn’t know how, but we would. I had to believe that. Otherwise I’d just give up right there.

  Then a crab got Queequeg.

  Right in the belly.

  Tore his body in half.

  He looked at me as he fell.

  One last time.

  His eyes pleading.

  Master.

  Help me.

  But I couldn’t.

  It was too late.

  There was nothing I could do for him.

  Queequeg put his head down and closed his eyes for the last time.

  I watched as my valiant friend, my heroic companion for these past eight months, died hideously, having laid down his life for me.

  A blind rage filled me, and I fought, fueled by hatred and revenge. I killed the crab that got him, and I tore a path through the remainder. Just killing, killing everything.

  I turned around and approached the slug, and the Phants. I wanted to face them. Wanted so badly.

  Kill Queequeg, would you? Kill my best friend, my only friend, in the world?

  They were going to pay.

  I was going to slaughter every last one of the things.

  The glowing mists closed on me from both flanks, but I dove past them, aiming straight for the slug.

  I activated my jumpjets in a full-bore horizontal blast. I leaned forward and slapped my hands together in front of me, forming a pointed wedge with my fingers, effectively converting Battlehawk into a big torpedo.

  I was going to tear a path into the slug and rend its body to shreds from the inside out. I was going to hack through its heart, carve up its lungs, rip open its entrails.

  I was going to show them what happened when you messed with my friends.

  But when I collided with the slug, my metallic body crumpled against the tough skin, and then I was flung backward.

  I hadn’t penetrated.

  Hadn’t harmed the thing in the least.

  I lay prone, stunned and disappointed, on the ground.

  The Phants closed. The slug remained motionless—I had the impression it was holding back, saving me for the alien mists.

  I forced myself to rise, feeling beaten.

  But I wasn’t going to quit. Not yet. Though I sorely wanted to.

  I couldn’t, or Queequeg had died for nothing.

  I activated my jetpack, zooming away from the Phants, and the slug.

  I landed amid the crab horde, and I started slogging my way through the morass of mandibles and pincers. I felt like a helpless larva hurled into the center of an anthill, trying to make my way off the hill while the swarming ants relentlessly attacked.

  All my limbs felt extremely heavy now. I don’t know if it was because of the crabs hanging from my body, or the consecutive damage inflicted by them. One of my headlamps winked out.

  I just kept swinging my arms and lifting my legs, plowing onward.

  I saw another slug at the periphery of my reduced light cone, blocking the rearward path, too.

  More Phants edged past it.

  So this was it.

  My last stand.

  I was hemmed in on all sides.

  My only regret was that another human being would have to die with me. If there was a way I could’ve saved Fan, I would have gladly chosen that path. But there wasn’t.

  Unless . . .

  “Fa
n, are you still there?”

  “Yes.”

  A crab leaped at my face. I grabbed two of its legs, and pulled crosswise, tearing the limbs clean away. Then I gave the carapace a good kick, sending it tumbling into the next wave.

  “How have you survived so long?” I said into the comm.

  Fan chuckled. “I wedged myself between the jetpack and upper back of your mech. They do not realize I am here.”

  “Way to fight like a man,” I said.

  “I am an engineer, not a warrior.”

  “Whatever. You’re military. I know that now.”

  Another crab bit into my right arm. A big one.

  I slammed it into the cave wall twice, cracking its carapace open. “Fan, I’m letting the mists take Battlehawk. The Yaoguai.”

  “What?” The terror was evident in his voice.

  I bashed a third crab aside. “It’s what they want. It’s the only way out. For you, anyway. I’m not sure if I’ll make it. Stay alive if you can.”

  “They are demons. You will die. I will die. Hideous deaths.”

  A fourth crab bit into my thigh.

  “We’re dead anyway,” I told him. “Stay hidden, and you might live.”

  I bashed the crab aside, and then I turned toward the closest Phant.

  “Wait, Shaw Chopra!” Fan exclaimed. “You cannot do this! Just because you have lost your pet—”

  I barreled through the crabs and leaped into the alien vapor.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Rade

  The universe had changed.

  Humanity, once considered the dominant species in the galaxy, had abdicated its throne.

  The galaxy, once our playground, was ruled by a technologically superior race, leaving us confined to the sandbox of our homeworld.

  Subservience was not in our nature. Not in my nature.

  But here I was, trapped on Earth, living a life that was not my own. A victim of circumstance.

  “You’re a bit introspective tonight, Rade,” Shaw said.

  “Introspective?” I dug into a piece of venison. “No. I’m downright pensive.”

  “What’s on your mind?” she said.

  “Ah, nothing.”

  “Still miss the Navy, don’t you?” she said.

  I was a hunter now. I caught and cleaned my own food. I lived a simple life. The only concern I had was feeding myself and my wife with what the woods provided. Gone were the days when I piloted steel monsters into battle against creatures from nightmare, fighting side by side with men closer to me than brothers. Gone were the days of endless drills and PT and carbohydrate-dense food. Gone was the camaraderie. The warrior spirit.

  I’d given it all up. Asked the Chief to transfer me to a different Team, and shortly after that I’d quit. I was deported at the end of my deployment, and the war ended without me. Not in humanity’s favor.

  As for Shaw, she had been a prisoner of war, but was returned by the enemy as a token of goodwill. We were together again, and living out our lives in peace.

  I was happy.

  At least, that’s what I told myself.

  Shaw got up and went to the window of the log house to stare at the countryside beyond. The setting sun tinted her face a winsome orange. She looked so beautiful standing there in the waning light.

  I couldn’t believe I was contemplating leaving her.

  She rested a hand on her belly, which swelled with the pleasant hump of pregnancy. “We moved out here to get away from it all, but you have too much time on your hands now, and all you do is sit and think about the past. Maybe we should go back to the city? Get a serving robot. Get food vouchers. Live the way everybody else lives.”

  I shot her a look. “You know very well why we don’t live in the city. We’re safer out here.”

  “The war is over, Rade. Humanity surrendered. We gave up our ships and agreed to reside on Earth. The cities are safe now. Humanity won’t be attacked again.”

  I set down my fork. Maybe a little too hard. “There’s no way I’m moving out to the city, not with all those Burrowers under the surface. You know they’re attracted to populated areas. Sure, they’ve left humanity alone. For now. But as far as I’m concerned they could emerge again at any time. So no, we can’t go back.” I paused. “Not you and the baby, anyway.”

  Shaw lifted her hand from her belly and turned from the window so that half her face was cast in shadow. “What are you saying?”

  I couldn’t hold her gaze. “Nothing.”

  I concentrated on the deer meat. Sliced a piece. Ate it. Methodically cut off another piece. I felt Shaw’s piercing eyes on me the whole time.

  “If you want to go, then go,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never held you back. And I won’t do it now. But believe me when I say this: there’s nothing for you out there.”

  I slowly met her eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

  She opened and closed her mouth, like she wanted to tell me something, then she looked back out the window. “Such a beautiful evening. How warm do you think it is tonight?”

  I sliced off another slab of meat. “I don’t know.”

  “Check your Implant.”

  “Fine.”

  HUD on, I thought.

  The aReal built into my head, otherwise known as my Implant, overlaid a log-on window across my vision. A typical log-on session lasted two weeks, and it must have just expired, requiring me to reenter my access credentials.

  Automatically, I started thinking my password.

  Alejandro—

  Something stopped me. I’m not sure what.

  “No,” I said.

  Shaw smiled patiently. “No?”

  “Check the weather with your own Implant,” I said defiantly.

  She came forward, and rested a tender hand on my cheek. “I had my Implant permanently removed. Don’t you remember, honey?”

  “Well, I’m sure we have another aReal around here somewhere.” I don’t know why I was being so uncooperative. She just wanted me to check the weather after all.

  “Sweetie, we gave all that stuff away before we left the city. The only way we keep in touch with the world and our friends is through your Implant. Speaking of which, I want to send Lindsay an e-mail. Would you mind?”

  I sighed. “Fine.”

  I started thinking my password again.

  Alejandro has—

  Again something stopped me.

  I glanced at her. “Who’s Lindsay?”

  She furrowed her brow. “Don’t play this game. Lindsay, my friend from bootcamp.”

  “You’re talking Navy bootcamp? As in Basic?”

  Shaw rolled her eyes. “What other bootcamp would I be talking about?”

  I thought back. Shaw and I took Basic together. We were in the same recruit division. “I don’t remember anyone named Lindsay from Basic,” I said slowly.

  “You don’t?” Shaw said mockingly. “Are you telling me you knew the name of everyone in Basic? That’s what I thought. E-mail please.”

  “Why don’t I remember you ever sending an e-mail to Lindsay before?”

  Shaw frowned. “You’ve been having a lot of trouble with your memory lately. Tell me, what were you doing one week ago? A month? You don’t know, do you?”

  “Of course I know,” I said. “Last week, I—” She was right, actually. “That’s strange, but I can’t recall . . .”

  “It’s the accident,” Shaw said.

  “The accident?”

  “Look, do we have to do this now?” Shaw said. “I just want to send an e-mail.”

  I crossed my arms. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

  Her face darkened and she turned away.

  A deep rumbling came from outside, like the beginning of a long eart
hquake.

  I heard branches and twigs breaking in the distance, followed by a familiar clattering.

  “Get to the cellar,” I told Shaw.

  My old-school rifle lay against the wall by the door. I grabbed it and hurried outside.

  By the light of dusk, an alien crab approached the log house from the woods. It was a smaller one, about as big as my body.

  I lifted my rifle, aimed at the place where an eyestalk joined one of its multiple heads, and fired. The thing splattered.

  Another crab came. Another. I shot them too. Methodically, just as methodically as I had eaten dinner.

  As more of them appeared, I began targeting the cords, which, when severed, killed them just the same.

  But the things kept coming.

  Shoot a crab. Aim at the next. Shoot. Aim. Shoot. Aim.

  There were too many of them.

  It was hard to see in the dim light. If I logged on to my Implant, I might be able to target them faster, because then the crabs and their cords would be outlined in red.

  For some reason, I resisted that idea.

  I was forced to retreat inside the house; mandibles and claws snatched at the air behind my back.

  I slammed the door.

  Shaw hadn’t gone to the cellar like I’d told her to.

  Well, too late for that now. She was always headstrong.

  “Barricade the door!” I said.

  With Shaw’s help, I upturned the table and rammed it against the door.

  A claw smashed through the nearby window, and I shot it. Another claw appeared. Then the window on the opposite wall shattered. Mandibles poked through.

  The house was surrounded by the things.

  “Rade, use your Implant!” Shaw said. “Call for help.”

  I pulled up the log-on screen.

  Alejandro has his—

  I froze. I glanced at her. There was an eager sheen in her eyes.

  “HUD off,” I said aloud, and the log-on screen vanished.

  “What have you done?” Shaw said.

  Abruptly the entire roof sheared off.

  Above us, a giant slug slammed its body downward like a bludgeon.

  I knew none of my bullets would ever pierce it, but I fired anyway.

  That ponderous body continued downward unhindered—