The Fall of Deadworld Omnibus

by Matthew Smith

  “I can look after myself.”

  “I know, I know. But something’s given me the wiggins like I’ve never felt before.”

  We slid into the lab which was mostly in darkness, lit by red emergency bulbs positioned on the walls. Rows upon rows of cooler units sat on either side of the room, each filled with shelves racked with vials similar to the kind Stender had on him when our paths first crossed. I walked over to the nearest one, but found it impossible to read anything in the gloom.

  “You got a torch?”

  “Yep.” She fished a compact penlight out of her back pocket and handed it to me.

  I ran it over the samples, but each was labelled with the same ten-digit serial numbers that were on Stender’s vial-packs; I could glean nothing from them. “All Greek to me,” I murmured. “Can’t tell what any of this stuff is.”

  “Jays sure have been storing up on their bacterial warfare,” she said, looking around with an expression of disdain on her face. “I’m betting this all predates the current assholes.”

  “Reckon they would’ve used any of this on us, if they’d had the chance?”

  “Without question. It’s only now in this little bastard Sidney that someone who’s enough of a psychopath has come along and shown them how to do it.”

  “So what do we do?” I asked. “Without Stender we got no hope of finding Red Mosquito. I can’t tell one of these test tubes from a damn hole in the ground.”

  “We bring down the whole place, like I said. Put a wrecking ball to it. It doesn’t deserve to still be standing, all the fucking horrors it’s created.”

  “You know how to do that?”

  “I can jerryrig an explosive using the accelerant from a fire extinguisher. If we find one, I can fashion something that’ll go boom. Hopefully, all this is flammable enough to go up like a firework.”

  “Place like this will have a sprinkler system, surely.”

  “Not if you knock out the localised circuit that controls the sensors.”

  “I thought you said you were a thief, not a saboteur. You were quite forceful on that topic, I recall.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve done corporate espionage gigs. I’m not proud.”

  “Every day’s a marvel with you, Lox,” I said. “Okay, let’s get to it.”

  We moved cautiously further into the lab, and I played the torch over the floor and walls. We’d barely taken a few steps when the beam alighted on something. “You see that?” I murmured.

  I readjusted the torch in my grip so it gave us a better view. It was the bodies of several Tek geeks, sprawled across their workbenches, and it seemed that their whitecoats was all that was left of them; their head and limbs had been reduced to a skeletal frame, a thin veneer of tissue still attached in places. Their mouths open, rictus grins locked in apparent terror, their bodies were contorted as if they’d writhed in pain at the point of their demise. Now they were glued to the surface and each other through a thick crust of liquidised matter.

  “What the hell…?” I breathed. “This is like the others upstairs. It’s as if they’ve been melted.”

  “Not melted,” Loxley replied, crouching down and peering at the corpses. “Rotted. You smell that? The bodies have decomposed—damn quickly too. I wouldn’t be surprised, judging by the way they’ve arched themselves, if it was done to them while they were still alive. That it was that which killed them.”

  “They decayed? What, at someone’s command?”

  “I’d say so.”

  “This is some Ming the Merciless shit right here.”

  Loxley tutted and stood. “You read anything other than comic books, McGill?”

  She stepped past the bodies and continued down the aisle between the work surfaces before I could answer. I followed, beam flicking from wall to wall, reflecting back at me now and again as it alighted on a blank monitor screen or glass cabinet door. More dead eyes, peeled back in their sockets, tracked our progress from across the bloodily smeared tiled floor. A shiny red cylindrical object gleamed in a small alcove to my left, and I paused: fire extinguisher. I tapped Lox on the shoulder to point it out and she turned and held up a raised finger, her head cocked as if straining to listen. She arched her eyebrows to suggest I do the same. I concentrated, and caught the sounds of movement further down the lab, possibly voices, though they were too low to discern.

  “We’re not alone,” she whispered.

  “Then we get out of here; find somewhere else from which to knock this place out.”

  “If we want to make sure Red Mosquito is destroyed, it’d be better to do it down here.”

  “We don’t know how many there are,” I hissed urgently. “We know what they’re capable of; we’ve seen it often enough. We don’t want to be taking chances. We go back.”

  Loxley had a look on her face like she wasn’t prepared to be dissuaded. “The fire has to start here if it wants any chance of wiping all this out. C’mon, they don’t know we’re here—we can take them by surprise.”

  “But we don’t know the numbers—”

  “I think there’s only two. Three at the most.” She started to crouch-run, weaving between the chairs and workstations. I groaned inwardly and lumbered after her, keeping my head down, snapping off the torch. The voices got louder as we approached. She stopped and peeked through some shelving, then dropped onto her haunches. “I was right. There’s three of those grey pricks,” she muttered. “They’re shifting pallets of something. I reckon if we came at them from both sides, we could drop them before they had time to do anything.”

  “What are you thinking? Headshots? Blow their rancid skulls apart. They don’t get up after that.”

  “Gunfire’s going to bring the rest of their crew down here, Jackson.”

  “What else are you going to do? Hurl bad language at them?”

  “We can’t take the risk.”

  My eyes roved quickly over my surroundings and settled on a wrench-like contraption that was sitting with some other measuring equipment on a desk. It felt reassuringly heavy in my left hand when I picked it up.

  “Let’s try to keep this stealthy,” she said. “No shots unless necessary.”

  “Once they’re down, you rig the place to blow, and we’re gone. I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to. I got the creeps something bad.”

  She nodded.

  “Two minutes,” I said, “then cause a distraction.”

  I tracked round to the left, keeping to the shadows, my back to the shelves. Like Lox had said, they were stacking crates, the contents of which weren’t visible. They murmured amongst each other in some kind of language though it was more like the whispering rush of ancient trees communing; a kind of susurration known only to themselves. Christ knew what zombie cops talked about to each other, but these guys sounded like they were channelling dead spirits; maybe it was the hum of whatever spark of animus gave them life, ticking over as they were in standby mode.

  Something rattled across the room as Lox did her thing, and as one they turned their heads to investigate. It never failed to raise the hairs on the back of my neck the way they all moved simultaneously, limbs jerkily kicking into life. The moment they started to shuffle towards Loxley’s position, I detached myself from the dark edges of the lab and strode forward, instrument raised. I struck the nearest one cleanly on the back of the skull and caved it in almost instantly; fucking thing fell apart like a month-old pumpkin. It stood motionless, the rest of its head split asunder, while the other two did some kind of approximation of a surprised double-take, and I attempted to take out the next with a back-handed swing. It managed to flick out its daystick and block the strike, parrying the wrench to one side. Its mouth creased into a smile that remained in place long enough for me to drive my right fist through it.

  I’d done it without thinking, an instinctive defensive jab, but as I removed my dripping, gore-soaked fist from the liquescent mulch where its jaw used to be I realised that I hadn’t felt any pain. My str
apped-up hand was completely numb, deadened to the point where it may as well have been prosthetic. The notion gave me a micro-second’s pause for concern before I realised that I hadn’t put the second Judge down, merely inconvenienced it, and it caught me a glancing blow on the temple with its daystick. I staggered back, seeing stars, and the grey thing advanced on me, seemingly oblivious to the fact that its lower face was now a grim black hole. It swung again and I used my right hand as a shield, where I barely felt the impact, then hit it in the ribs with the wrench. It made a solid cracking retort but didn’t slow it down any; it got inside my reach and rammed the daystick lengthways against my throat with a two-handed thrust, which pinwheeled me back hard against the shelving. The supports wobbled and vials, microscopes and other breakables hit the floor with a smash.

  White spots danced across my vision as I struggled for breath, my trachea slowly crushed millimetre by millimetre. Over my attacker’s shoulder I saw the third Judge briefly talking into its radio just before Lox appeared with a computer monitor held above her head and slammed it down on the grey’s skull, obliterating it. She didn’t give it a backwards glance and ran over to help me, but the Judge holding me slapped her back just as she was about to place a hand on its shoulder; nevertheless it released the pressure enough for me to snatch some air, and manoeuvre enough room to headbutt the greasy freak into next week. More of its face was concaved, its eyes almost closed. I heard it emit the word ‘Ssssinnner’ like gas was escaping before Lox sprang back up and pistol-whipped it to the ground, pummelling the thing with her gun-butt while it made weak attempts to fend her off. She broke it apart with each blow, reducing it to a wide red circle on the floor.

  “So much for stealth,” she said between gasps as she sought to get her breath back.

  I tried to answer but couldn’t get any sounds out. I ran a hand over my throat, wincing at the skin’s rawness, and struggled to swallow. Something felt jagged in there. I put a hand on her arm and looked into her eyes; she appeared confused for a moment, then realised I’d lost my voice. I motioned with my head, and she nodded, squeezing my bicep in sympathy. I turned away, caught movement in the corner of my eye, then immediately pushed her to one side just as a bullet ricocheted off a stanchion inches from where she’d been standing a second ago. She spun, following my gaze, and saw the half dozen greys marching up the lab, Lawgivers raised. The lead pusbag fired again and we scrambled out of the way, bullets tearing up the room around us, while I managed to pull my gun free and pumped the trigger blindly behind me as we ran. We threw ourselves over a desk, giving Lox enough time to free up her weapon, then return fire, blowing a chunk out of the midriff of the nearest Judge. The round ploughed through its body and exploded one of the pallets the other helmets had been stacking. A number of containers tumbled out, the lid of one popping off as it hit the ground. What looked like a human brain oozed free onto the cold hard floor.

  “Jesus,” Loxley exclaimed, revulsion momentarily giving her pause.

  They didn’t let up, pouring on the fire as they advanced, not bothering to seek cover, unconcerned about any injuries they sustained in the process. Wounds didn’t seem to matter to them; they were beyond any human sensation. We both knew this was going to be a fight we weren’t going to win, and I motioned that we should retreat. She agreed, and we scooted to our feet and ran back the way we’d come, heads low as the bullets smacked into the walls and furniture around us.

  What did we believe we could achieve, coming here? I thought as I fled. How did we ever think we could fight this? It was always going to go one way.

  Predestination, you stupid motherfucker. You should’ve guessed the future’s immutable.

  Lox grabbed my shoulder and pointed to something I hadn’t paid attention to on the way in: there was a glass-fronted cabinet to one side of a storeroom, racked inside with compressed-air cylinders. Without hesitation she put her booted foot through it and hauled one out, toppling it onto its side then kicking it down back down the lab’s aisle. As it rolled towards the greys, she sighted her gun and fired.

  The explosion knocked us both onto our backs, the flash igniting the room in a ballooning fireball. Half the Judges went with it, incinerated where they stood; the others took a tumble, flames licking their uniforms even as it crawled up the ceiling. An alarm sounded and the sprinklers stuttered into life, raining on the conflagration.

  “Go!” Lox said, and pushed me, slipping, back towards the lab entrance. We barrelled through it and made for the stairs just as the elevator pinged its arrival. Ordinarily, I should’ve simply kept going, but the sliding open doors caught my attention, my curiosity getting the better of me. That familiar tingling sense of dread returned. I slowed, transfixed by the darkness inside the cab, horribly fascinated by what could lie within.

  Then it stepped out into the light, head turning this way and that, as if catching our scent. Its gaze finally settled on us, even though the large eye sockets were empty.

  The badge on its chest said this was Mortis.

  For a moment, my breath caught in my chest, my heart palpitated. Fear flooded through me like I’d never felt before. This creature was something new, something far beyond the monstrosities that we’d battled since it all went down; it exuded power, a presence. This was the source of the bad feeling I’d experienced upon entering, the creeping unease that had seeped into the very walls. It was a nightmare walking, one of the architects—if Stender was to be believed—of the doom of mankind. It wore an approximation of a Judge’s uniform, but it was adorned with bones, the skeleton of some mammal attached to one shoulder. Its bare hands and feet were gnarled and clawed like an animal, and between its legs I could see the hint of a whip-like tail that emerged from its lower back. But it was the head that held the attention: a large sheep’s skull, bleached of all flesh, regarded us impassively. There was nothing within that empty cranium save darkness yet it watched all the same. If, like the De’Ath character Hawkins had mentioned, Mortis had been human once, I couldn’t comprehend what process had brought it to its current state.

  “The interloperssss,” it said, and I realised that had been the voice I’d heard on the greys’ comms back in Rennick. The timbre was unmistakeable, a heavy rumble behind the dry hiss. “I’d been hoping I would catch you before you attempted to leave.”

  I glanced at Lox and she was as motionless as me, eyes wide with terror. Somehow the thought of flight seemed pointless, that we were now trapped within its field. Could we have turned and run? It’s possible—the thing didn’t seem equipped for sprinting. But the black energy that came off it in waves made us powerless. We were the condemned before the executioner’s block, sapped of resistance.

  And yet… my left hand, held down at my side, balled into a fist all the same.

  “You lawbreakersss continually ssseek to evade jussstice,” it said, stepping forward, making for Loxley. “Rather than accept your guilt, you do all you can to obssstruct and delay your dessserved punissshment.” It reached out a taloned hand and ran its fingers through her hair; Lox gave out a snipped cry of alarm. “You ssshould be lambsss to the ssslaughter, ressssigned to your fate. Yet sssinnersss will not recognissse the very ssinss of which they are guilty.”

  “Guilty of what?” Lox rasped, some steel still in her eyes.

  “The mossst heinousss crime of all, child,” it replied. “Life.” It curled a finger round a lock, and I saw the hair turn white instantly. “The Sisstersss sshowed us the way—that all crime is committed by the living, therefore exissstence itssself musssst be eradicated if we are to maintain order. We ssshucked off our mortal remainsss, partook the Dead Fluidsss, and embraced Death asss the one true ssstate of being.” It removed its hand from her hair and spread its fingers wide as if to place it upon her face. “Peace, and remorssse for your crimesss, will only come if you do the sssame.”

  “Stop,” I croaked. It had taken an effort of will to force the word out. “Stay away from her.”

  Mortis paused,
its hand an inch from Lox’s cheek, and turned its skull-head in my direction. “You expect forgivenessss? I cannot absssolve sssuch flagrant wrong-doing.”

  “I said stay the fuck away.”

  “McGill—” Loxley warned through a clenched jaw, shooting daggers at me.

  I couldn’t catch her eye but instead stepped forward, keeping my focus on the skull-headed asshole. It watched me approach, inscrutable.

  …and in my head I’m back in the ring, coming out of my corner, blood up, heart pounding. My fists are like iron, my legs rock solid. The chants of the crowd are a white-noise background roar, faces lost in darkness beyond the ropes. There is only the canvas and my opponent, rushing out to meet me, and the anticipation, the release, is in awaiting that first contact, that aggression-fuelled jab, the satisfaction of flesh yielding to my glove, and the stings and blows that will greet me in return will only serve to drive me harder, pay back in kind twentyfold until one of us weakens and falls…

  I lashed out my good left fist and caught Mortis on the cheekbone, snapping its head to the side. It made no sound and simply slowly, lazily, returned to study me, a hairline crack now in the bone. I pulled back and drove my fist again at the Judge-thing’s ribs, but this time its hand flashed out and grabbed my wrist before it could make contact. It held it there between us, motionless, and I felt an ice-cold sensation creep into my wrist; I tore my eyes from Mortis’s gaze and looked down to see the flesh dissolving where its claws encircled my skin. Pain started to resonate up my arm in waves as the atrophy spread.

  Then it broke the contact. “Wait,” it said, as if to itself. Its other hand lifted my right, the bandages rotting away instantly. It traced a wizened finger over my palm where I’d been bitten, the entire appendage a purpley-black. “Well, well. Little sssseedss have taken root…” It stepped away. “I think jussstice would be better ssserved if the sssinnerss faced up to their own ssssinss together, don’t you?”

  Shaking from the searing agony—the bone of my wrist was now visible amidst the meat and tendons—I suddenly found myself unaccountably turning away from Mortis and walking towards Lox. I had no control over my actions; my limbs were being directed by another power. Loxley looked at me in bewilderment, eyes moist, as I stepped up in front her, and found myself taking her hands in mine.