Grendel Unit

by Bernard Schaffer

  Vic grabbed the Lieutenant by the shoulders and forced him upright. Hill's head flopped down against his chest and his eyes were now half-lidded. He was moaning something nonsensical and spit bubbles blew out of his lips like a sputtering infant.

  "Hurry up," Vic grunted, trying to keep his eyes focused on the alleyway. "Any second, now, we're going to be up to our necks in leather jackets and fangs. They'll eat us, you know," Vic said, looking down at Frank. "I mean that. They will hold us down and eat us. Do you want to be eaten alive?"

  "No, sir," Frank whispered hoarsely. He grabbed a handful of the cauterizing powder and slung it across the lieutenant's chest. The result was immediate. The powder smoked gray and sizzled like frying bacon on Hill's chest, making his head shoot up as he screamed in agony.

  Vic bore down to keep him in place, and Frank nervously shook out another handful of powder and tossed it across Hill's stomach.

  It stunk like burnt meat as the powder flashed and sparked deep inside of Hill's open wounds, sealing them from within. Tears streamed down Hill's face as he held up his hands and begged, "Please, please stop. Don't do that again."

  Frank bent down and peered at the wounds quickly, "I think you're all right for now. Try not to move around too much or they'll break open again."

  A cluster of powerful-sounding engines growled to life from far behind Frank, so loud and sudden that they made him stop and look up at Vic with wide eyes. Vic's lips pressed together grimly as he let go of Hill and bent down to grab the dead modder's gun laying nearby. He raised both guns and stood up, aiming them downrange at the dozens of hoverbikes flying into the alley.

  They gunned their engines as they came to a stop, dozens of bikers all snarling and showing him their sharp fangs and glowing red eyes.

  Vic planted his foot against the body of the horned one and, while keeping his pistols raised, rolled it over with his boot until the body was turned sideways, making it perpendicular to the alley. He stepped over the body, and glanced down at Frank, whispering, "Grab that little bastard and the other, bigger bastard and drag them over here. I need a line of bastards going head to toe, from one wall to the next."

  Frank ducked low as he scurried over to the doorway and grabbed hold of the heavy modder with the metal jaw. He grunted as he heaved the body, trying to unseat it from the Buddha. "Help me," he hissed at Hill.

  There were dozens of laser sight dots covering Vic like fluorescent measles. Some were bigger than others. The dots from the handguns and assault rifles were the size of small coins and the ones from the anti-personnel cannons mounted to the front of the hoverbikes were the size of fists. He looked down at the dots and smiled and said, "All right, listen up, you second-hand bolt-on piles of scrap metal. Every single one of you is under arrest. But lucky for you, I'm willing to negotiate."

  The modders snorted in laughter and got ready to fire, but from the back of their ranks, a female shouted, "Do not shoot them! The first one of you who shoots will answer to me!"

  There was a bullet hole in the center of one of her bright orange spikes from where Vic had tried to gun her down, and she jabbed the air toward him with her sharpened claws and spat, "You ain't negotiating nothin', fleshbag! You and them are all dead! Those two behind you, they gonna die in bad agony, but after you watch that, I got something real special planned for you. I'm gonna skin you alive like a −"

  Two gunshots rang out from Vic's pistols on either side of her and she turned to see the bikers standing nearest her slump forward and slide off their bikes, dead.

  "Wait!" Vic shouted, shaking his head apologetically. "Wait, wait, sorry. You said, not to shoot, right? I couldn't hear you from back here."

  She screeched in outrage, spitting curses at him from the mouth of alleyway, and Vic glanced down to check Frank's progress. He'd gotten both bodies out of the entryway and placed them on the ground in the right positions, forming a line of corpses that stretched from one wall of the alley to the other.

  "You dare defy me!" the female screamed.

  Vic's gun fired again and another modder dropped. "Whoops!" he called out.

  She lifted her head and roared, "Bring them to me!" The horde of bikers gunned their engines and took off flying toward Vic, darting around the female with expert precision and closing fast.

  "Give me that cauterizing powder!" Vic shouted.

  Frank reached for the jar in his bag and said, "This? Why?"

  Vic fired with the pistol in his left hand until it went empty, throwing a barrage of bullets down the alley and hitting whatever he could. The bikers swerved out of the way to avoid being hit and smacked into one another. Vic threw the gun on the ground and grabbed the jar from Frank, quickly dumping its contents onto the three corpses.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Frank cried. "That's all I have!"

  Vic pushed Frank out of the way and looked up at the bikers coming toward him. They were close enough that when they grinned he saw the strings of black saliva stretching from their fangs. Just before they were on top of him, he aimed his pistol at the nearest bike's fuel tank and fired, sending a flood of dark fuel spraying out on the other bikes and ground.

  Vic lowered the pistol and fired into the center of the horned modder's back, putting a bullet directly into a pile of cauterizing powder.

  The air flashed with flame and instantly ignited the fuel on the bike as it flew over the bodies, setting off a massive explosion of hoverbikes and modders and scorched pieces of leather jackets that sprinkled down onto the remaining members like black rain.

  Inside the club, Vic slammed the heavy locking bolt across the rear entrance and shouted, "Go! Go! Go!" at Frank and Lieutenant Hill to get them moving toward the front. "Get Buehl on comms and tell him we need immediate extraction!"

  Frank leapt over an overturned table and glared at Hill, saying, "Well? Do you want to explain it to him, Lieutenant?"

  Hill ignored him as he stumbled through the dark club, clutching his chest and groaning that he felt like his insides were going to come spilling out.

  Vic came running up behind them both and stopped suddenly, "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. You idiots don't even have comms?"

  "Ask him!" Frank pointed accusatorily at Hill. "I said to bring them!"

  A loud crash rang out from the back of the club, shattering the frame around the rear entrance, and all three of them stopped and ducked down. There was another crash after it, and the steel door buckled inwards, followed by the repeated strikes of multiple boots, smashing it open enough for the modders to begin squeezing through.

  "Stay down and stay quiet," Vic whispered.

  The club was dark and filled with swirling gasses, but they could make out the figures checking behind and around the bar, beginning their search. "Get your gun out," Vic whispered to Frank. "If they get too close, kill as many as you can before you put a bullet in your temple."

  "Okay," Frank whispered, nodding quickly. "Wait, what?"

  Vic crept to the front door and pressed himself flat against the wall, using the tips of his fingers to pry the door open just an inch and make sure no one was waiting for them outside of it. Vic breathed out slowly with relief. They hadn't sent anyone around front and the street was clear. "Come on," he said, waving for the others.

  Lieutenant Hill elbowed his way through the door first and vanished around the side. Frank had his gun raised as he went through, but he stayed close, reaching back to hold onto Vic and make sure he came out. Vic looked back at him and said, "What are you doing?"

  Frank pushed the doors shut behind him and said, "Making sure you don't do anything stupid like sacrificing yourself so we have a chance to escape. We either all get out together or not at all."

  Vic grunted, "If you're the one with the job of keeping me from doing something stupid, we're all in deep trouble." He looked back at Hill, who was leaning against the wall, sheets of sweat pouring off of his face like a rain spout. "We need a way to get to the ship. Those bolt-ons are going to realize
we're not in the club soon enough and come busting through that door."

  "We can commandeer a transport," Frank said, nodding at the cars flying past them on the road.

  "They're too high up," Vic said. "We'll never get one to land. Anyway, they'll run a human over if he tries to flag them down, just for the hell of it. We need a different vehicle."

  Both Frank and Vic turned at the same time to look down the alleyway. It was piled with dozens of hoverbikes, each of their engines tricked out and capable of incredibly fast speeds. Just the kind they needed to make a quick escape. Vic started to move toward the alley when Frank grabbed him and said, "Wait a second. You stay here. I've got this."

  Vic smiled condescendingly as he moved to pull Frank's hand off and said, "It's okay, rookie, don't worry. I'll be coming right back."

  Frank knocked his hand away and said, "You listen to me, you pompous bastard. I have been waiting years to get on this unit and it's all your damn fault! So far, it's been nothing but an absolute nightmare, thank you very much! Now, you are going to sit here and you are going to watch Lieutenant Hill and you are going to wait for me to go get us a bike, because I. Have. Got. This."

  "Fine," Vic said with a shrug. "If it means that much to you, go ahead and get yourself killed."

  "Maybe I will," Frank said as he slid along the wall toward the side of the building.

  "I'll be right here waiting when you start screaming for help."

  "You'll be waiting until hell freezes over then," Frank called back. He turned and stuck his head once into the alleyway, and then he disappeared.

  Vic sat there, with his gun ready, holding his breath. He was certain he'd hear a volley of gunshots, or a scream of terror, at any second, but there was nothing. He looked back at Hill, who was now slumped over on his knees, staring mutely at the ground. Cars continued to zip past overhead, spewing coolant and synthoil across the road below like dirty rainwater. Vic heard something squeaking in the alleyway, the noise getting louder as whatever it was got closer to the edge.

  His eyes widened at the sight of Frank Kelly pushing a massive hoverbike out of the alleyway, carefully walking the thing as he kept glancing over his shoulder, making sure no one caught sight of him. The bike had a long, extended front end made of glittering chrome and high handlebars that raised over the rider's head, and best of all, there was a chariot seat in the back, big enough for two. Frank laughed triumphantly as he struggled to turn the handlebars down and turn, forcing the heavy bike to go left. "I told you I had this," he grunted. "Come on."

  Vic grabbed the crumpled lieutenant under his arm and said, "Get up and walk, you baby." He dragged Hill behind him toward the bike, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you just walked down there and took that. What are you, some kind of covert operative?"

  "Getting there," Frank grinned. His face was puffy with exertion but he was beaming from ear to ear as he moved out of the way for Vic to hoist Lieutenant Hill into the rear seat.

  They all looked up as a hoverbike engine roared to life around the corner. The roar filled the street, and Frank and Vic crawled over one another to get to their bike's throttle and take off. Vic only managed to get his leg over the back seat and grab hold of Frank's shoulders, just as a mounted biker came peeling out of the alleyway.

  The modder spun out in the street, searching frantically up and down for the stolen bike without realizing it was parked only a foot from the corner. Vic jammed his gun in the modder's face and cocked the hammer back.

  All of them knew that Vic's gunshot would bring the entire horde charging out of the club, but the modder also knew that same shot would leave his brains splattered all over the sidewalk. The modder didn't move and didn't make a sound.

  "Let me guess," Vic said, looking down at the modder's shaking hands. His bike was smaller and older than the other ones. Just a kid, really. He hadn't even had his scarlet eyes installed. "You're new to the gang, right?"

  The modder didn't say anything, but his eyes were wide enough to tell the story.

  "You were supposed to be watching the bikes, weren't you," Vic said.

  The modder nodded quietly.

  Vic centered his pistol on the modder's forehead and said, "Let me ask you a question, son. You want to die for this motorcycle or do you want to live to fight another day?"

  The modder turned and looked at the club's front door, sensing his fellow gang members lurking just behind it. "They'll kill me if I let you go without a fight," he whispered nervously.

  "You think I won't, sunshine?" Vic said. "So which is it? Die now or live to fight another day?"

  "L-live," the modder said.

  Vic pointed at the gun holstered on the modder's side and said, "Toss that on the ground."

  The modder took a deep breath before he reached down and undid his pistol, letting it fall onto the street below. He looked ready to cry.

  "Get ready to go," Vic muttered over his shoulder. He waited for Frank to crank the engine before he lowered his weapon and said, "Remember this. Apply pressure."

  "To what?" the modder said in confusion.

  Vic fired, blowing a hole into the modder's left thigh with a loud bang that sent blood and bone fragments spraying into the air. Their bike took off immediately, leaving the injured modder behind, grabbing his leg and screaming in terror. The club's front door burst open and dozens of angry modders came racing out, ready to shoot. They all turned to see one of their club bikes vanishing down the street, with the triumphant face of Vic Cojo standing on the back of it, giving them the finger.

  They ran for their own bikes, moving inhumanly fast on legs that cranked like steam pistons. Within seconds they had their engines gunned and were taking off in a blur down the alleyway, turning hard to catch up to the fleshbags, eager for the taste of human flesh.

  The female stopped at the entrance, scowling at the injured newbie with murderous contempt. Her claws were extended toward his throat, ready to tear it out, when she spied the bleeding bullet hole in his leg and paused. "You let them get away?" she snarled.

  "T-They ambushed me as soon as I came out of the alley," he said.

  "You idiot," she said. Her face twisted in disgust and she said, "Well? Are you going to pick up your gun and go find the fleshbag who did this or just sit there and bleed?"

  Bob Buehl had one foot on the headrest of the pilot's seat and one on the dashboard, rocking out to the sick guitar solo pumping through every speaker inside the ship. The solo hit its highest chord and Buehl leapt into the air and kicked, landing on his knees with his fingers dancing across an imaginary fret board. He could see the legions of lusty young women screaming for his body and it was just what he needed to get pumped. In the middle of the song, he heard a strange, high-pitched, pinging noise break into the solo, and looked up. It was gone as soon as it came, and he shrugged it off as a glitch in the audio system.

  Buehl dropped to the floor and cranked out twenty pushups as fast as he could. He watched the sweat drip off the tip of his nose onto the rubberized mats in the cockpit and it made him work even harder. He finished the set by thrusting his arms out straight and bridging himself over the floor, holding the position even when his arms started to shake. The song ended with another loud ping and Buehl realized what it was. An incoming call.

  He groaned in frustration as he got up and grabbed a towel from his seat to swipe over his face. The comm sounded again before he had a chance to answer and Buehl poked his finger on the screen and said, "What!"

  The voice on the other end was complete static, interrupted by a few hardly-audible words that sounded like, "…Coming in hot!"

  "Say again?" Buehl said, leaning closer to the speaker to hear. "Repeat that. I say again, repeat."

  More static, and then, "bzzzt…Open!"

  "Open what?" Buehl said.

  Gunfire burst across the hull window where he was standing, pelting the glass with loud, heavy plinks that made Buehl drop to the floor instantly. He got up slowly, lookin
g at the scored window glass in wonder, just as the voice on the com said, "Get the hatch open, you idiot! We're coming in hot!"

  Buehl let out a mute gasp as he saw the first hoverbike racing toward the ship, with Frank Kelly bent over the front handlebars and Vic Cojo leaning over him, shouting into the bike's comm microphone, "I repeat, we are coming in hot, now get the hatch open or we're all dead!"

  The sky filled with hoverbikes flying behind Cojo and the others, racing toward them, trying to catch up. Buehl's eyes widened at the sight of the weaponry the modders were carrying, and his fingers flew over the console, activating the ship's systems and ordering the lower hatch to open. Another barrage of gunfire struck the side of the ship, much louder and longer this time. Buehl realized the crazy bastards weren't just trying to kill Frank and Vic anymore. "They're shooting my ship," he muttered.

  Another barrage struck the window directly where Buehl was standing, a series of rifle blasts that would have caved his face in except for the ship's heavy shielding. He hammered his fists against the windows in outrage and shouted, "Stop shooting my damn ship!"

  Outside on the landing deck, flying past dozens of other parked ships in a blur, and Frank whipped his head around to see how close the hoverbikes were. As he looked, one raised a rifle and splattered the side of their bike with gunfire, nearly sending them crashing into a power pylon.

  "Just drive!" Vic shouted, shoving the side of Frank's face back to look at the ship.

  "They're trying to kill us!" Frank cried out.

  "I know that! Shut up and drive!" Vic shouted.

  The modder steadied himself to fire again and Vic bent down, just about to pull the trigger when Frank panicked again and started to swerve side-to-side. The modder fired first, punching holes in the bike's rear chariot seat just above the crumpled form of Lieutenant Hill, who squealed in terror. Vic grabbed Frank by the back of his neck and said, "I've only got two rounds left in this gun, and so help me, I will use one of them on you if you do something stupid like that again."

  "We're almost there!" Frank said, eyeing the open emergency hatch in the side of the ship.