Stage 3 (Book 3): Bravo

by Stark, Ken

  He checked his watch. It was 5:15.

  By 5:17, it would all be over.

  5:17.

  Everyone he knew in the world would be dead by 5:17.

  He tried to come up with the day's date, as if knowing exactly when all his friends had died might give him some peace. But as much as he tried to calculate backwards, he simply couldn't.

  Was it still July? Were they into August yet? What day of the week was it? Friday? Monday?

  It was a wasted effort. Days and dates had no meaning anymore. All they had was now. Still, one vestige of the old ways pervaded Mason's thoughts.

  Jesus, I hope it's not Monday... I'd hate to die on a Monday...

  Addison fell back to let Sarah squeeze in beside Mason and have a look for herself. She said nothing, but her tightening grip on Mason's arm spoke volumes. Then, Becks poked her head between the two, and she did speak, but in a hush low enough to have been a mere whisper on the breeze.

  “You can't,” she pleaded with both of them. “There has to be another way.”

  “There isn't,” Sarah hushed back, and with one last gentle squeeze of Mason's arm, her fingers trailed down to his hand, their fingertips kissed, and she stepped away to leave him and Becks alone for the last moments they were likely to have.

  Yet, Mason didn't say a word to Becks. In his mind, he didn't have to. Whatever he needed to say had been said, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he was at peace with himself.

  He reached out and found Becks' hand waiting for his, but they didn't linger there. The last connection made, and his heart was at ease. Mason released her hand and gave the signal. Then, he slowly and gently slid back the deadbolt.

  Most of the alphas were standing vigil, but it would only be fleeting at best. With every crescendo of roars and snarls from the Quad, a ripple went through this greater swarm, sending many of them into a probe and a few into full charge. Fortunately, the noise was enough to obfuscate the creaking of one rusty hinge, as Mason eased the door fully open. As the vantage point changed from that tiny square of glass to a full, unimpeded view of a swarm that seemed without end, he heard more than a few stifled gasps as the others gathered behind him.

  He gave the floor a quick scan for debris, then, he stepped soundlessly over the threshold and waited. Seconds passed by without a single alpha taking notice. So he moved out of the way to let Sarah join him. Addison followed quickly behind, and then Alejandra emerged with her machete drawn, and fire in her eyes. Hansen came through next, with Becks trailing behind him. Mason tried his best to position himself between his daughter and the swarm, but Becks would have none of it. She pranced to the far side of the platform with the grace of a cat, and stood in a semi-crouch, ready to launch her javelin or herself at anything that threatened. And the rest followed. Beverly, Christopher, Donn, Richie, little Diego. Then, Mackenzie and Clancy emerged, and on cue, Clancy bounded down to the ground and set off into the swarm.

  As expected, the swarm ignored the dog completely, but they did so now at their peril. Around Clancy's body was a crude harness constructed from leather belts and strips of cloth, courtesy of Mack and Sarah. Along both sides were affixed the strongest and sharpest knives of the lot. The dog was now a modern-day version of an ancient war chariot, and that big, beautiful beast wasted no time in wreaking his own special brand of havoc on the swarm.

  He danced among and around alphas, sometimes coming so close that they could have reached down and touched him. But none of them did. Even as the blades cut into their flesh, they ignored the dog completely. Sometimes, the alpha suffered little more than a gash. Other times, a lucky slash of a ligament or tendon rendered the creature lame, slowing it to a hobble. And on those luckiest of occasions, the height of the alpha and the position of the blade was just right to sever an artery, and the wounded creature crumpled to the ground, bleeding out their last in that nameless little corner of Skyline.

  On Mason's signal, the rest of them went into action, but this was no charge of the Light Brigade. This was a slow-motion infiltration, one cautious step at a time, and every one made in absolute silence. One by one, they either descended the steps or lowered themselves carefully from the ledge – and this was where a huge gaping hole had been left in the barely acceptable plan.

  The idea was for Mason, Sarah, and Hansen to make the crossing, and the others would simply be there to provide whatever assistance they could, and as Inez had described so perfectly, to 'thin the herd.' But the swarm itself was unpredictable. No amount of planning could tell everyone exactly where to go or what to do. They all had to make their own calculations as they went, and spread out whenever and wherever they could.

  Mason went straight into the swarm, taking advantage of the narrowest of paths left open by Clancy's efforts. But it soon closed in around him and he suddenly had nowhere to go. A big male stood directly in his path, and two more were probing toward him. He held his breath and took a step back to let the first of the probers pass by within inches. But the other happened to stumble sideways on a broken foot, at just that moment, and its new trajectory was bringing it directly toward him. With no room to sidestep the thing, he planted the end of his rebar between the creature's naked breasts with the lightness of a feather, held it in place for the two seconds required to let the swarm shift and open the tiniest of holes, then, he gently guided it just far enough to the side that he could deke quietly out of its way.

  He didn't have to look back to know that everyone was sticking to the plan. If they weren't, he'd hear it. One fuck-up was all it would take. One heavy breath, one grunt, one over-zealous whack! of a machete or a hatchet, and it was game over, man.

  Game over.

  He knew Sarah was close behind. He could sense it. He could feel it. Five feet. Ten. No more than that. The woman moved without a whisper of sound, but he sensed her there right down to his bones. He could feel Mack there, too. Twenty feet to the right and just a hair behind. When he heard one alpha after another stumbling to its knees from that same direction, he knew exactly what that incredible little girl was up to. She was doing what she always did, confusing and disrupting the swarm. But she had upped her game, taking a page from Clancy's playbook and using what Sarah had taught them all about the most vulnerable places on a human body. Cavorting as silently and effortlessly through the swarm as a shadow, she was putting her knife to good use. The back of a knee here. An inner thigh there. When possible, a quick slash across a throat or the back of neck.

  Sarah had taught her well, and with her and Clancy working in tandem, enough room suddenly opened up to allow Mason a full three seconds to catch his breath.

  He spared a glance high over his shoulder to four figures hanging through two open windows on the second floor. Inez and Richie were there, each with a .22 rifle, and Teddy and Sk8rBoy William had their crossbows charged and ready. Those four were the artillery. If everything turned to shit, their combined firepower might be enough to pull a few asses from the fire. If not... well, the supplies inside would last longer with only four mouths to feed.

  As his eyes drifted down to the loading dock, his breath hitched in his throat when he caught sight of a flurry of ebony hair being entirely swallowed up by alphas. But then, they seemed to part of their own volition, and another head appeared above the crowd. It was Christopher, coming to Becks' aid, and with both battle axe and the back end of a javelin to steer the alphas silently away, they were soon out of immediate danger.

  Reassured, Mason spun back around and continued on. Scarcely had he taken another step when he realized how much trouble he was in. In an instant, he plotted every alpha in the immediate vicinity on a 3D map in his head, and what that map spelled was disaster. The way ahead was blocked, two alphas probing toward the Quad would be on him in seconds. Worse, a big bald fucker was probing toward him from the opposite side. In desperation, he planted the end of his rebar against the bald alpha in an attempt to steer it away. But instead of it riding the end of the steel around i
n an arc, the creature pegged up against it and remained fixed in place, clawing uselessly at the air and snapping its jaws without a hint of a snarl.

  This was no alpha, he realized too late. This was an echo. It wouldn't be steered away, and it wouldn't be stopped. It would keep coming no matter what. He might be able to somehow duck out of the creature's way, but the thing would simply go after the next nearest human. Probably the human, of whom Mason was rather fond, padding along just a few feet behind him.

  He couldn't let the creature go, but he didn't dare take a swing and alert the swarm. So, he did the only thing he could. He tensed his massive muscles, and with one mighty thrust, he punched the weapon into and through the creature's ribcage. As the horrible thing flailed about at the end of the spear, refusing to die, Mason calmly and coolly reeled it in, inch by bloody inch, until it was close enough to plunge his knife up through the bottom of its jaw and deep into the creature's brain.

  At last, the thing dropped to the ground. But in the brief fraction of a second it took for Mason to pull the rebar free from its chest, the net closed in again. They were all around him – too close to even bring his weapon to bear. He sidestepped in the general direction of the Quad to keep pace with the advancing swarm and buy himself a second or two, but that was all he would ever have.

  A second. Maybe two. No more.

  He managed to create enough space to finally be able to bring up the rebar, but even as he envisioned a hard swing at the nearest pair of legs, connecting with another creature's chin on the upswing and a downward strike on a dainty little head, he also envisioned the aftermath of all those bones breaking.

  Well, alright then, motherfuckers... You want stealth? Come and get it...

  With his back against the proverbial wall, Mason set silently to work. He planted his rebar against a chest as thick as a barrel and plunged it through, and when the creature fell, he used it as an anchor as he danced sure-footedly around in a circle – spinning and slashing, spinning and slashing, spinning and slashing. Three alphas crumpled immediately to the ground. Three more sprung leaks that would exsanguinate them in under a minute. And one little echo fell close enough for a quick stab through the base of its spine to end its thrashing. He eased his rebar free with a barely audible shhluck! and used it to steer another away, and then another. But then a big, hulking creature came charging straight at him at a dead run, tearing a path through the swarm like a buzz saw.

  It was almost on him. He tripped one alpha and slashed at the knee of another to drop both bodies in the hulk's way. Then, he positioned his rebar like a spear and waited for the giant to come. But then... a miracle happened. The giant stopped dead in its tracks and turned its blank, dead eyes to the sky. It dropped to its knees, hovered there for a moment, and finally slammed face-first to the ground.

  That's when he saw it. A tiny red hole at the base of the giant's skull. Behind the giant, he caught just the faintest glimpse of Diego and his slingshot, before the boy vanished back into the swarm.

  He delivered another surgical slice to an old female just below the crotch, and turned to the next with a swipe at its neck that sprayed a geyser of blood for the few seconds the creature was able to remain standing. With a quick peek beyond the swarm, he realized that he was nearly halfway there. But it gave him little comfort. If anything, the swarm was getting thicker. Even if he and Sarah and Hansen managed to make it all the way, there was still the problem of breaking in without bringing all of damnation down on their heads.

  Oh, and by the way, Mace... he heard himself say inside his head. Let's not forget that the place is overrun...

  Awesome. Fucking awesome.

  But in a world where the best he could hope for was all of them only likely dying a horrible, gruesome death... he continued on.

  He felt something grab his arm, and swung around, ready to split the offending alpha open like a fish. Luckily, he managed to halt the blade just short of Sarah's navel. She said nothing, but pointed frantically back the way they had come. He could only catch quick little glimpses of the loading dock through all of the shifting bodies. But as he stitched those individual fragments of images into an overall picture, his blood froze in his veins.

  Beverly and Becks were working as a team, and as evidenced by the scattering of bodies around them, they'd been doing their part. Becks' javelin and knife were both dripping with blood, and Beverly's carving knife was stained red all the way up to the hilt. But as Becks used the butt of her javelin to steer a probing alpha gingerly away, a tiny female echo stumbled out of the swarm and headed directly toward Beverly. But this was no ordinary echo. It had been a girl. Barely a toddler. Naked, save for a soiled pair of My Little Pony briefs.

  Becks didn't see it. She couldn't have. But behind her, Beverly had stopped fighting. The knife hung loose at her side, her shoulders began to heave, and even from forty feet away, Mason could see sunlight glinting off a face wet with tears.

  Seeing the impending disaster, Sarah turned to go back, but Mason stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, and pulled her to his side. Unable to call out, they tried to signal Becks or Alejandra or Addison, or anyone at all who might happen to look their way. But it was no use. Even the snipers didn't see it.

  Just then, Mack flitted by a dozen feet away with Clancy on her tail. Mason signaled to the dog, and by sheer stroke of luck, Clancy happened to look over at just that moment. He stopped in his tracks and gave a little whine in Mackenzie's direction, and once the girl returned to his side, Mason sent them a series of hand signals while Sarah dealt with two overly-inquisitive probers.

  But it was already too late. The toddler-echo was almost on Beverly, and the woman was making no move whatsoever to protect herself. And then, she did the stupidest thing she could ever have done. She dropped her knife to the ground and fell sobbing to her knees, as the little naked echo took its last, faltering steps. At last, she reached out for the echo as if reaching for her own dear lost child. Only when a set of tiny little teeth buried themselves deep into her wrist that the spell was broken.

  Her gut-wrenching scream shattered the silence.

  Then, a single blast from her shotgun crushed it into dust.

  CHAPTER XVII

  The entire swarm came alive, howling and snarling and charging across the open ground toward that hidden little corner of Skyline, like rabid wolves descending on a wounded deer. Everyone was suddenly in a fight for their very lives.

  Mason and Sarah hacked, kicked, punched and pummeled. But even as one alpha after another fell under Mason's sledgehammer blows, or Sarah's surgical precision, others were there to fill the void.

  At last, the two of them stood back-to-back and struck at anything that moved – but it was like trying to fight the tide. Wave after wave of alphas poured into that narrow little space of land. And now, they were even starting to come down from the Quad in a cascade. Those that happened to come upon the stairs came racing down, tripping over one another, falling, tumbling head over heels and being summarily trampled into goo.

  But on the rest came.

  Those that missed the stairs and came upon a metal railing they couldn't hope to understand, were crushed to death by the swarm pressing in from behind. The bodies piled up quickly, until the swarm finally crested the rail and started raining down from above.

  They dropped like stones, breaking bones, crushing skulls and snapping necks. But every broken body helped soften the landing for the next.

  And on they came.

  Artillery! Mason screamed inside his head. As if they'd read his mind, the four snipers suddenly opened up.

  It was a replay of the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre, but this time on mute.

  Mason detected the occasional hand clap of a .22 or the twang! of a bowstring. But the roar of the swarm drowned most of it out. He scanned the immediate vicinity and could see no evidence of alphas growing red freckles between the eyes, or suddenly sprouting plastic-finned shafts of hardwood from their chests. But under
the circumstances, he didn't expect to. The real fight was back there, at the very threshold of building six. That was where everyone would be retreating to, and where he'd instructed the snipers to concentrate their fire, should the need arise. They were his friends, yes. But all sentiment aside, if the swarm managed to breach the sanctuary, they were all done.

  He forced the thoughts from his mind, and with Sarah at his back, he fought like a man possessed. He swung, he stabbed, he gored, he speared, and when two alpha skulls exploded as one to reveal Hansen's ugly mug behind, he focused his attention precisely there and fought twice as hard just to keep the man from being swallowed by the swarm.

  At last, with both men hammering away at the same single point, the narrowest of paths opened up, and Hansen managed to squeeze his bulk through.

  Now, there were three.

  For a full thirty seconds, they actually appeared to be holding their own.

  But Mason was under no illusions. The human body wasn't built for prolonged battle. Sarah was already starting to flag, and if their labored breathing was any indication, he and Hansen weren't far behind.

  “Back!” Mason grunted, splitting a pretty little head in two and driving the back end of the rebar straight through a big male's eyeball until it struck bone.

  “No!” Hansen howled between blows. “Forward!”

  “They're in trouble!” Mason growled, plunging his knife into a neck that got too close. But before he could even begin to fight his way back toward building six, Sarah grabbed him by the arm.

  “No, Mace...” she said, gasping for breath. “Forward...”

  It stunk to high heaven, but deep down, he knew she was right. It didn't take a genius to see how the swarm had shifted. It was the gunshot. That single damn gunshot from Beverly's shotgun. That nuclear blast was drawing the whole swarm to that precise spot. If they tried to fight their way back, they'd run into an impenetrable wall of alphas and be ripped to pieces before they ever got close.