by T. C. Edge
“Nothing still,” she whispered. “It’s getting harder to see anything in this rain. It doesn’t much help Remus’ other sensors either.”
She looked to Ragan with a concerned expression, then glanced over at Tanner. Ragan had noticed them in furtive discussion not long ago, and certainly didn’t buy that their comms links had temporarily gone down. They were up to something.
“Maybe we should call it quits,” Chloe went on. She glanced at Tanner again. “Mikel isn’t here. We’re wasting our time.”
Ragan shook his head.
“We’ve only been here an hour or so. That’s hardly enough to abort the mission. There’s too much at stake.”
“But…”
“No buts, Chloe. We have to do this.”
He fixed her with a tight glare, the sort that demanded compliance.
Her eyes fled to her feet. He didn’t much like causing her to do that, but he had little choice in the matter. Military action required decisiveness, and resilience when things weren’t going your way. It was becoming a little more difficult for him to reconcile his feelings for Chloe, and his need to assert his authority in situations like this. He needed to remember she had no real experience of combat, not in this form at least. She wasn’t used to following orders.
He turned to the others again.
“We’ll keep on searching,” he said, considering things. “…Perhaps it would be quicker if we split up.”
“That’s…not a good idea,” said Nadia, quite sharply. “We need to stay together as a team. We’re stronger as a single unit.”
“Stronger, yes,” said Ragan. “But we could cover twice the ground apart. I have my scanner, Chloe has Remus. We split, Nadia coming with me, Cliff with Chloe. We’d be able to scan twice the area…” he trailed off, and began shaking his head. The realisation dawned quickly that he wasn’t willing to leave Chloe’s side. An adversary as deadly as Mikel would probably require a group effort too.
“Hmmm, maybe you’re right,” he said. He snapped a frustrated breath into his lungs, looking back out into the storm, the rainfall growing increasingly strong. A faint air of resignation gripped at him. The city wasn’t huge, but this weather served to amplify its size. Their ability to scan was reduced, making active, physical searching and surveillance more difficult. Just their damn luck to get weather like this…
“I’d say we keep on going,” said Nadia, pressing on. “We’re still a way from the fighting in the centre, and the NDSA field camp. We’re picking up nothing on scanners, right? So there’s no debate here. We keep going until we do.”
“Right,” said Ragan, nodding.
“Cliff, Chloe?” said Nadia.
Tanner shrugged glumly. He wasn’t a fan of the rain; it didn’t suit his west coast sensibilities.
“Chloe?” said Nadia.
Ragan turned to her. Her eyes were shut again, a frown beginning to descend. Ragan knew that look, that expression.
She’s spotted something.
He reached out, gently shaking her shoulder.
“Chloe,” he whispered. “What do you see?”
Her frown deepened. A whisper fell from her lips.
“Soldiers,” she said. “There are soldiers coming…”
Ragan tensed.
“What sort of soldiers?” asked Tanner, eyes narrowing. A tension had gripped the group. All were clutching tighter at their rifles. Nadia quickly slipped to the hole in the wall, dipping her head out into the storm, searching left and right and waiting for further directions.
“I don’t know,” whispered Chloe. “A small unit…ten or so. Coming from…I don’t know the direction.” Eyes still closed, she lifted her arm and pointed instead. “That way.”
“That’s west,” said Tanner sharply. “That’s the WSA side of the city. What is it, a flanking party? A patrol?”
“They’re dressed in black,” Chloe went on. “About two hundred metres out, approaching down the street outside. Coming our way…”
“Spectres.” Tanner glowered, turning to the opening where Nadia stood. She’d turned her eyes right, her keen sight trying to pick out the incoming group. It would be impossible in these conditions, visibility being what it was.
“We need to go,” said Ragan. “We can’t deal with a group of ten Spectres right now. We’ll move back, let them pass. Follow me.”
He began moving for the gap in the wall, but Chloe’s voice held him back.
“Wait…”
They all turned. Her eyes were open now. Open and staring.
“It isn’t Spectres.”
“Then who?” asked Ragan. He studied her closely. Her expression drew a sinking feeling. “Not…”
She nodded.
“Quinn,” she said. “The Crimson Corps.”
“You’re not serious!” whispered Tanner harshly. “How the hell has he found us here?”
“It’s not us they’re here for,” said Ragan, shaking his head. “They’ll be here for the same reason as us, though.”
“Mikel.”
“Exactly. They’ll be trying to take him too. We can’t let them.”
“Let them?” said Tanner. “We don’t even know if he’s here.”
“He’s here,” said Ragan. “He has to be here.”
He turned back to the opening, dipped his head out into the tempest. He could see the faint shape of black figures, ghosts in the mist.
He turned back to the others. The look on his face caused Chloe to snap her eyes shut. Her expression coiled anxiously.
“They’re close. We have to move now!” she said.
There was no time to discuss this anymore, and they all knew it. Ragan stepped towards the crumbling wall, the others moving right in behind him. And without a second thought, he hurried out into the rain, turning immediately to the left.
Mikel watched from the shadows to the south as Hunt and his group scurried from their hole. The scent of the nanite-cocktail coming from the west was growing stronger. They were closing in, and fast. Had they seen Hunt? Were they here for him?
Mikel didn’t know.
His narrow gaze studied their path, retreating swiftly towards the east, before heading north up a central street. They moved quickly, tight as a unit, rather more professional than Mikel would like. He needed to utilise this panic if he was to make a catch, split them up, create some…chaos.
As he watched, he saw the other group begin to come into view from the western street linking onto the intersection. They moved with similar speed, their smell growing more powerful. There were a few Panthers in that group…maybe I…
No, thought Mikel sternly, shutting the idea down. He was here for the Phantom, for Hunt. He wouldn’t let his final meal be some nameless Panther.
He watched them carefully, ready to move off if they ventured towards him. They stopped briefly at the junction, some looking south, some north, others straight forward. They seemed to hesitate, not knowing which way to turn.
Mikel knew right then and there - they hadn’t seen Hunt.
After several seconds, they regrouped and pressed on, continuing on their way, not diverting their path northwards in the direction Hunt and his team had gone.
Damnit, Mikel thought. I’m going to have to bring them together myself.
He stepped from the alleyway and onto the main street, revelling in his stealth. There was something utterly enjoyable about watching people, knowing just where they were, without them being aware of your presence. Mikel had grown to love this particular brand of voyeurism, this wonderful buildup before the kill, the feeding.
Sweeping silently down the street, he came quickly upon the intersection, turning his eyes towards the street stretching east. The unit of Crimson Corps soldiers, roughly ten of them, were heading that way, searching. Searching for him, quite possibly. Why not show himself, then?
He grinned, fangs splashing with rain, and stepped out, materialising as a ghostly black figure in the centre of the junction. The soldiers conti
nued moving for a few moments, before stopping suddenly. Someone had spotted Mikel, and now the rest were turning.
They hesitated, fifty metres away, each of them spotting him, one after another. Mikel waited a moment, making absolutely sure they’d seen him. And then, the gunfire began.
Rifles to shoulders, they began firing, but Mikel was already gone, flying off northwards. In the direction of Hunt.
Bullets pinged on the floor at his feet, missing him by millimetres. He caught a glance of a couple as they passed - they weren’t live rounds, he knew. These were non-lethals. They were trying to take him alive.
Good luck, he thought, hurdling a hunk of debris, tearing off into the mist and past a building. More bullets rattled into the wall as he passed, splashing feet and shouting filling the air behind him. He turned his gaze up the street, scanning. Ahead, in the distance, the billowing smoke kicked up from the city centre spiralled into the air, further clogging the cloudy skies.
He flashed a glare behind, noticing the soldiers pouring around the corner after him. They fired once more as Mikel dodged left, ducking down a side-street. He stopped, for a second only, drawing a long breath of air into his lungs. He could smell them - Hunt and his team - a little further away, no doubt hiding from the sudden conflict filling the streets, waiting, hoping for it to pass.
Oh, it’s not going to pass, Mikel thought gleefully. It’s coming right for you.
Mikel felt them, knew they were close. He continued down the alley, turning right, disappearing into a network of lanes. No, he couldn’t lose his pursuers…
He veered down another lane, backtracking, bursting back out into the main road. The soldiers were moving off down the alley he’d fled into just a little way down the street. But one remained, spotting his return.
“Hey! He’s here!” Mikel heard the man shout.
Another grin flew up onto Mikel’s face, fangs glowing bright. He turned, luring the soldiers back after him, delaying a moment to let another flow of misty air swarm his nasal cavity. His sensors picked out their scents once more - Hunt was close, so very close.
He launched his eyes to the sky. Yes, they were near…he could see the drone hovering, cloaked but visible by the odd flow of the rain around it, keeping its constant vigil above. Beneath it, a building lay badly damaged, another wall caved in and broken down, leaving only about four feet of the wall still standing. He could see inside, into the room beyond - another apartment, long since abandoned. But that wall…it would make good cover to fire from. A good place to make a stand.
That’s where they were, Mikel knew instinctively. The drone, the scent, signalled their position. He continued on quickly, narrowing his focus on that crumbled wall. He could smell them, hear their beating hearts. He rushed as close as he dared, and then he saw it - a head, hidden within a black helmet, sneaking up to take a look, peering over the top of the wall.
He glanced behind him again - he was too quick for the soldiers pursuing him, extending the distance between them. They were shadows in the mist, quickly taking firmer form as they poured onwards through the rain - and heading right for the building in which Hunt cowered.
Mikel stopped for just a second, turning back to the crumbled wall. He saw another black helmet now, and the tips of rifles creeping up to take aim. Behind him, the pursuing soldiers grew closer.
One more second…Mikel thought.
He waited until the last moment, bringing these two groups together, playing the perfect matchmaker. And as the men behind came flooding through the fog, he swerved straight off to the right, disappearing into the shadows of another lane and out of sight of them all.
He stopped, hearing the footsteps splashing loudly. And then…shouting coming from behind him. Sneaking into a recess, he smashed through a doorway - the door was simple for him to break - and moved out of the storm outside. He listened closely. Shouts of confusion whistled from the main road, coming from both sides.
Then, after the shortest of lulls, gunfire burst into the air.
Perfect, thought Mikel. Let chaos reign.
79
The streets here, though the city centre was still some way off, had clearly seen recent fighting. The further north you ventured, the more damage you saw; broken down walls, battered buildings, piles of rubble and detritus littering the streets. There were bullets everywhere, empty shells sparkling on the rain-drenched floor. There was even the occasional corpse, forgotten and left behind when the dead were salvaged from the fight.
Right now, Ragan and the gang were in another ground floor apartment, just as they’d been only a minute or so ago. They hunkered low behind a collapsed section of wall, the rain battering hard just outside, keeping watch on the streets ahead. All stayed quiet and still, hoping they’d escaped from their previous position before being spotted. Up above, Remus was keeping watch, Chloe relaying what he was seeing. Ragan’s scanning lens was also searching ahead, seeking out movement in the fog.
“Nothing so far,” Chloe whispered. “Quinn’s unit must have continued on east, or turned south…”
“And we’re sure it’s them?” asked Tanner sharply, cowering below the brick, black combat suit dripping wet and rifle clutched tight, just aching to be used.
“Certain,” whispered Chloe. “Remus recognised them.”
That’s all that was required now, no further explanation needed. If Remus recognised someone, it meant it was them. His analysis of body shape, gait, movement, and so on made his conclusions irrefutable.
“We should move again,” Tanner went on. “Head further north.”
“I’d rather not get too close to the central fighting,” countered Ragan. “Quinn will pass, and we’ll move in behind them. They may have a lock on Mikel that we don’t.”
It seemed likely that that was the case. The manner in which they moved, quickly progressing up the street, suggested they were getting somewhere fast, rather than searching as they went. The intelligence analysts and hackers back at the base in the mountains would be feeding them regular updates. Dax was good, but he was just one man. There was only so much he could do.
Ragan turned his attention back out, his lenses currently set on night-vision to help see through the deluge. He was searching through a crack in the wall, so wasn’t required to poke his head over the top of it to see. To his side, Tanner and Nadia’s view was entirely blocked off. Both were hunched low and completely out of sight.
He peered out, even this function of his lenses largely affected by the storm. The grumbling thunder was now growing a little louder, though the beating heart of the storm remained some way off. It wasn’t looking like the rain would cease for a while.
A sudden crackle filled the air.
The group looked to each other, tensing.
“Gunfire,” said Tanner. “To the south…”
The chatter grew clearer, louder, more intense. It was spreading from the way they’d just come, towards the large intersection down the street.
“That’s gotta be Quinn doing the shooting,” said Tanner. “Who’s he fighting? Chloe?”
“I can’t see anything yet,” said Chloe. “The rain’s too thick.”
“It’s gotta be NDSA soldiers,” said Nadia. “They must have run into a patrol.”
Ragan stared out, pulse spiking. More gunfire sung into the storm. It all seemed to originate from about the same place.
“That’s no firefight,” Ragan growled. “There’s no return fire. It’s all coming from one group.”
The chattering grew a little nearer, before calming suddenly and then stopping. A few moments passed, a silence falling. Then, from the fog ahead, Ragan thought he saw a figure materialise, black, sleek, ghostly in the mist.
His eyes narrowed, breath holding. He heard a distant voice cry out - Hey! He’s here!
The figure continued towards them, and Ragan could feel Chloe’s breathing begin to rise as she crouched next to him.
“Someone’s coming,” she said. “One person,
alone.” Her voice grew clotted with hate and fear. “It’s Mikel.”
“So that’s who they’re shooting at,” growled Tanner, keen to get a look. Ragan noticed him peering up and over the top of the wall.
“Stay low,” whispered Ragan harshly. “He may not know we’re here…”
“He knows,” said Chloe. “He can smell us. He’s…he’s leading Quinn’s group our way.”
Now, more shadows were beginning to materialise, pouring after the vamp from the south. Mikel grew close, moving quickly, glanced back, and then fled suddenly towards another alley, disappearing. Quinn and his men appeared a moment later, eyes searching. They came upon the group’s position behind the wall, and stopped.
Ragan looked over at Tanner, who was still peering over the edge, the top of his helmet visible.
“They’ve seen us,” grunted Ragan.
Voices suddenly began murmuring from the group, confused. Ragan made a snap decision. He called out into the storm, “Don’t shoot! Captain Quinn…we’re on the same side!”
His words were muffled by a thunderous roar from the heavens. More words came in reply from down the street, the ten men of the Crimson Corps still standing out in the street, unprotected. Ragan glanced at Tanner, eyes narrow and glaring through his visor. All stayed low, a short lull falling. Ragan could see the men aiming rifles, moving into cover in crouching positions.
And then, without further warning, they began to fire.
Bullets started peppering the wall, cracking chunks, bits of brick breaking off and pinging into the soaking ground. Tanner and Nadia reacted immediately, instinct taking over. They drew their rifles up, steadied them over the top of the wall, and began firing right back, keeping their heads as low as possible and out of sight.
Ragan’s instincts were the same, but a more powerful urge took him. His first thoughts went to Chloe, crouched to his left. He grabbed her immediately and pulled her down, making sure she was in full cover. Her eyes opened in a flash, leaving Remus to fend for himself. She took up her own rifle, eyes crunching up with a sudden fear.