by Jason Luthor
“Oh.” He nods a little but looks confused. “Well, perhaps the Tank, yes, by which of course I mean Ishara. The virus was designed to target the central strain of Creep cells, which she seemed to be infected by. After all, the entire purpose was to develop a pathogen that could eliminate large amounts of infected without putting anyone in harm’s way. But Jackie? No, no. Absolutely ridiculous.”
Suddenly Dravic’s stupid smile is gone. “What are you saying, good doctor?”
Yousef turns around and stares at him. “Yes. What is it that you’re trying to say?”
“Shouldn’t it be obvious? Jackie has a modified version of the Creep infection within her. Her body is infected with a line of cells we call Sally cells. They don’t have the same type of cellular structure required for the virus to be lethal. Of course, she’s ill and greatly weakened. However, if the fall did not kill her, there’s no reason to believe the virus will.”
“You’re saying that you made a half competent virus?”
The doctor’s lips curl, but he keeps his tone down. “I’m saying that no virus can be expected to work identically on two different variants of the same cell, much like no two variants of the same virus can be protected against using the same vaccine. Nor should I have been expected to create such a ‘magical’ virus, mind you. This is basic biology. Viruses take certain pathways during the course of an infection. Creep cells are highly resistant to all forms of harm, so I was forced to create a highly tailored virus that would be effective. I couldn’t have been expected to create a virus that operates along two different vectors against such a complex cellular design like that of the Creep. It’s a biological impossibility!”
Branagh laughs. “He’s telling you that all you’ve managed to do is piss off . . . What did you call her? A walking time bomb. Congratulations, Yousef. You’ve finally done the one thing that really gets Jackie angry. Broken her trust after she gave it away.”
Yousef whips around toward the president, his brown features still flushing as his eyebrows squeeze together in anger. “Do you have any final words, President Branagh?”
“Yeah. Actually, I do.” He looks past the general and toward me. When he does, he just nods his head for a second, closes his eyes, and smiles. “You’re ready, Thomas. My time is over. This is your time now.”
And just like that . . . The second the words are out of his mouth . . . Yousef raises his hand. Before I can do or say anything, the front of Yousef’s gloved right hand explodes apart as a beam of light bursts from his palm. The world becomes an intense, golden glow, the room lighting up as energy bursts from the general’s hand, slamming the president across the chest and sending him like a rag doll across the floor. His body blasts into the back wall, the front of his uniform smoking and his bare chest burned into. I just stand there, my mouth hanging open, as I see his lifeless eyes settle on the ceiling. My breath is stuck in my chest, and I can feel my eyes watering as the doc rushes up to him, his hand whipping out a small device that he puts onto the president’s forehead.
After a second, Doc Watson shakes his head. “He’s inches from death. He will most definitely be braindead soon.”
“Good,” Yousef snarls as he turns to his guards. “Take these two to my vehicle and prepare for our return to Fort Silence.”
The second he says it, the doc spins around, his head nodding toward the body. “Excuse me, general. This presents a prime opportunity for me to do an autopsy on the president and further a bit of my research. If I might be so bold.”
“What is it you’re asking me, doctor?”
“You know as well as I that my only interest is in the advancement of science. Whether that occurs under your authority or Central’s is not my concern. I would simply like the opportunity to perform some post-mortem tests on the president’s body. It may even further advance my research into creating an anti-Creep agent. You may have a guard escort me to the lab, if you wish. I’ll be entirely open about the proceedings.”
I’m staring at him with my face flushing and my lungs ripping apart when I scream, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Yousef’s eyes roll as he looks to one of the guards. “Take him to his lab.” Then he looks to one of his guards. “And take Captain Jones to the transport.” My hands are shaking when I feel someone grab me by the arm. The whole time they’re dragging me out of the room, I can’t turn my eyes away from Gabriel’s body. It’s like nobody cares. Nobody cares that he’s dead. Yousef doesn’t even give it a second thought as he steps over the body. He just keeps talking to his men as we all walk out. “Can we retrieve the Panzer at this time?”
“No, sir,” a voice says back. “Creep infestation in the area is peaking. We’ve still got waves of flyers in the area and conditions on the ground are deteriorating rapidly.”
“I see. I want an update on our blue asset as soon as possible. In the meantime, coordinate the evacuation around the Panzer. With their leader dead, the raiders won’t be back to try and salvage anything for some time.” We all pause when Yousef stops walking, his finger waving in the air. “And put out an alert to all ground forces that they’re to shoot the Dark Angel on sight if they see her. If she’s even still alive. Remind the troops about the importance of purity. As it turns out, the Creeps inside the Angel was just as corruptive as we all thought. It turned out she was a traitor to the cause and needs to be executed for her crimes. That’s exactly what you tell our people on the ground. Kill only. No capture.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Her Baby Boy should still have an eye on her. Use that to track her down.” With that, he walks by me and the doc, his hand still exposed where the glove was burned away. His golden hand is still glowing with light when he does. The heat of it singes my hair as he walks by. When he does, I can barely hold back from jumping at him, from trying to do something stupid. From getting myself killed. All I can think is, the president was right about him, and so were all the rumors. The Golden Jackal. He was the monster they said he was.
Jackie’s Recording 27
“J--—”
“Jackie---—”
“Jackie, you there?”
It takes me a second to realize that there’s a voice speaking into my ear. I blink and look up, not really understanding what happened. For a second, I’m looking up to the red skies above me. I’m on my back, in rubble, in some alley between two buildings. I must have tried to fire my jets or something. Still doesn’t completely explain how I got here. It also doesn’t explain my Baby Boy, looking like it’s been half dissolved, like something ate through it with acid. When I raise my hand, I see my bare palm. The suit’s glowing at the wrist, which tells me the armor’s trying to reconstruct itself. Even the nanotech isn’t infinite though, and the fact that my hand’s bare means that the tech’s working slow.
“Jackie.”
I blink and suck in a breath – hard. It’s the Stranger. The Shadow Eyed Man. He’s looking down at me with his arms crossed, like he’s angry. I haven’t seen him in months. So, all I can think is, why’s he here now? What does he want from me?
“Jackie?”
I blink again, and he’s gone. That’s when I realize that it wasn’t the Stranger trying to talk to me. My hand goes to my ear instinctively, even if it really doesn’t do anything to help me hear better. “Mike?”
“Jacko.” He sounds happy. “Glad I got through to you before . . . Well, not to be dramatic, but I wanted to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” I shake my head. “What do you mean, ‘goodbye?’”
“You know, I don’t want to say I told you so, but . . .” He laughs. “I don’t have a lot of time, so I’m just going to be quick. Whole plan was to send me to the Northwest Creep Colony with a bomb.”
“Yeah. To destroy the colony.” I’m still woozy from the fall, and my body feels nauseous as I try to prop myself up. “It was supposed to destroy the colony.”
“Not quite. Hard to explain and like I said, I don’t exactly got time. Ja
ckie, I’ve got to stay here and destroy this place. It’s not going to let me out of here. Yousef wanted me dead. Thing is, I can do one last thing before I go. That’s make sure Yousef can’t threaten Central. If he ever set this thing off . . . don’t know if Central would be able to survive past a few weeks.”
“Wait. Wait, Mike. I can be there. I can—”
“Jackie, I’m using what I’ve got left to hold it off. If I don’t do this, I take the loss and give nothing back. I don’t want to go out like that. I’m leaving something here for you though. For after I’m gone. Tune in on my Pocket Space generator’s frequency. It’s the only way I can keep my message safe from what’s about to go down.”
“No, no, no, no, no,” I start shouting. “Mike. Just . . . an hour, Mike. Something, give me—”
“Check Pocket Space when you get here. The colony will be gone. Promise. And just . . . tell everyone goodbye for me. Say I went out a hero or something. Something that sounds good.”
“Mike.”
“Love you, Jackie.”
I’m feeling more confused than I have in forever, and all I can do is swallow hard and suck wind as I tell him, “I love you too, Mike.” And then the signal just goes out. I’m left sitting there, completely lost about what’s happening, with my body screaming in more pain than I think I’ve felt since the Tower, but it’s my chest . . . it’s my chest burning as I try to understand why Mike just said goodbye. It’s me telling myself it’s not as bad I’m imagining it is. That I’ll get everything straightened out as soon as I recover. But . . . it does sound like . . . I don’t know. I don’t even want to think about it. What might have happened to him. Then there’s me and whatever happened on the Panzer . . . It’s like Ishara got sick and then so did I . . . but was it really . . . really all Yousef’s doing?
I hear gunshots outside of the alleyway and my eyes shoot to the street. For a second, I don’t see anything, at least until I see these huge power armored troopers falling back, their rifles firing off on full automatic. I’ve barely been conscious five minutes but I . . . I don’t know. I feel the immediate need to do whatever I can if it means saving them. Saving lives. I brace a hand against the wall and slowly push myself up, gritting my teeth as a searing pain cuts its way up my right leg. I’m pouring sweat and sucking hard, struggling to breath as I stumble along. I’m not sure if it’s the injuries or whatever happened to me on the Panzer, but I force myself to start moving, practically dragging my right leg down the alleyway, limping along as I try to find out what’s happening.
The second I get to the street, I realize things are bad. Just, the worst you could imagine. On my left, a group of DEC troopers are closing ranks, their rifles firing in all directions. And I mean that: all directions. The city around us is bursting apart with the Creep, whole buildings coming alive as tendrils erupt from their sides and Creepers go tumbling out of windows in living waves of skin and muscle. My eyes shoot down the street, and I see a carpet of Bulgas, their snapping jaws and clawed forearms cutting through the air. Then, at the back, the Basilisks, those huge Creepers that tower over everyone, their distended, alien hands screaming through the air and cutting through what little daylight’s left.
I hear the Stranger’s voice in my ear. This time, I’m sure it’s him. “Are you really going to save them? These people. Knowing what you know? What Yousef did to you and knowing that humanity has betrayed you time and again?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “Yes,” I tell him as I step out of the alleyway. I see the DEC troopers look my way, obviously confused. I can see it in their body language. They’re scared. One looks back and forth, his rifle turning frantically. He doesn’t even know how to process that I’m on the battlefield. Maybe they’re all scared. Or, maybe they’re confused. I’m not. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, letting my strength come back, just enough, before I move. I’m with them in a second, and the ones around me shift, just enough, to give me an inch of space.
“Keep my back safe!” I scream at them. “Guns to the rear and both sides of the street. I’ve got the forward wave. Understood?” Nobody answers for a second. Maybe they don’t know who should answer. “I asked if you understand? I don’t need to be caught in any crossfire.”
Finally, a voice answers back. I know this one the second I hear her. The second I see that death’s head glaring through the growing shadows, the eyes of her helmet burning with yellow light that cut into the darkness. Kali. “We’ve got you, Heavy Metal.”
“Good,” I tell her as I focus my eyes ahead. The wave coming at us from all angles has stopped, like the Creep is taking a second to catch its breath. The troopers don’t know why. I do. I feel it. Every Stilt standing there with its jaws hanging open, every Bulga waiting to charge, and every Basilisk ready to charge . . . They’re all being held back. By it. The Eye in the Utter Wilderness. It’s seen me. It knows I’m here. When I look up, over the crowds of Creepers stretching off for blocks down the city, I see it there, for just a second. A hundred eyes and a hundred tendrils bursting from the clouds as one giant, searing pupil descends out of the skies and stares down on me. I’m the only one who sees it, who knows it’s there, and I can feel my heart getting ready to burst as I stare back, bracing myself and just trying to keep myself from becoming completely and ridiculously terrified. Finally, I take a deep breath, steadying myself long enough that the vision fades. “I know this enemy,” I shout out to the troops behind me, my voice shaking just a little at the start. “We all know this enemy. We’ve all been here before. We’ve all fought this fight before. We’ve all already had to conquer this fear just to become the fighters we are. And that’s why we’re going to win. Do you understand?”
Kali raises her rifle. “What’s the call, troopers?”
“Never say die!” they all chant back.
“Then fight for every man and woman standing next to you,” she tells them as she turns her guns on the incoming wave of Creepers. I leave the rear to the DEC troopers as I turn toward the wave of Creepers that starts rushing toward us, moving in a single wave that floods the streets in a monsoon of living creatures. I take it all in. Stilts from one angle, Bulgas from another, and the threat of those slow-moving Basilisks just behind them. All I’m thinking is, if they collapse on the team, it’ll be a slaughter. I won’t let that happen. My jets fire off, sending me flying forward, crossing half the distance to the incoming wave before I break to a halt. The first wave of Bulgas leaps at me, jaws detaching and opening wider than a person’s torso, but I’m ready for them. My sword materializes into my hand as I fly into the crowd, the edge of the blade creating an arc of fire as its slides through the air. It tears through them, the flames igniting their hides while the blade cuts through limbs. The creatures go rolling to the ground in heaps as I turn to my left, ducking just as one of the Stilts is on me, its huge, clawed hand swiping at my head. I turn my sword up and cut through its torso and spin to the crowd behind it, a rifle materializing into my hand. I sweep across the wave of stilts, energy bursts discharging from the end of my barrel. The last of my energy rifles, kept in reserve specifically for desperate times. These are desperate times. The blasts burn through the crowd, punching holes through them as I pull my sword out of the Stilt at my back.
A snarl behind me gets my attention, and I make one single motion, turning to the noise and bringing my sword up just as a claw the size of a person comes crashing down at me. It rings against the edge of my blade as I stare into the face of a Basilisk, all 10 feet of it leaning down on me with its weight. I hold its claw back with my sword while I bring my rifle up, my finger squeezing on the trigger and releasing a fully automatic blast into the thing, its belly soaking up laser fire before I slide my sword sideway and back toward its skull. The blade cuts right through, and the Basilisk goes collapsing to the ground.
“We’ve got swarms on the rear,” I hear a voice say over my comms, and I flip a look back behind me. There’s a wave of fleshy tissue and muscle bur
sting out of one of the smaller buildings, a crowd of Basilisks exploding out of the spongey mass. They shove themselves onto their dozen legs and start charging the team, their clawed feet skittering along the ground and taking them in rush toward my people. My jets fire off as I rush back toward the DEC troopers, soaring over them to reach the new target.
“Hold the front!” I shout as I fly overhead. I can see some of the team shifting, turning their guns and sweeping the crowds while a few troopers step out from the group. They raise their gauntlets, wielding these huge blades connected beneath their wrists and swinging through the air as they wade into the frenzy. I see a few cutting into the smaller Bulgas while others fire endless rounds into the larger ones. Then I turn my eyes ahead as I come up on the incoming group of Basilisks, my repulsors stopping me in a split second before I go streaking upward. Grenades materialize into my palms that I launch downward, lobbing a half dozen into the street and watching blooms of fire erupting. Smoke and dust goes curling into the air as Basilisks turn away from the blasts, their hard outer armor breaking apart under the impact. Then I come to a second stop as my rifle reappears in my hands, red streaks of energy bursting forward and pouring into the exposed monsters .
They’re pulling back into the crowds when I feel something slam into my back, growling jaws and clawed feet scratching at me as I suddenly go into freefall. The world’s spinning a thousand directions as I try to reposition myself, but the fall’s too quick. The pavement underneath me comes rushing at my face, and I feel the impact vibrate through my bones. It hurts, more than it should. An alarm flaring in the corner of my visor tells me the kinetic dampener on the armor’s failing. I don’t have much time to think about it. Teeth clamp down into my shoulder, bending the armor and crushing it down around my muscle and bone.
I grit my teeth as my rockets flare, getting me back onto my feet and sending the Bulgas on my back burning into ashes. Everywhere I look around me, there’s a Creeper. Bulgas are biting at my legs and Stilts are swinging their claws toward my chest. Looming over them all, the Basilisks are closing in, swiping away the smaller creatures to get to me. In my ear, I hear screaming. “We’re getting swarmed over here!”