AntiBio: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (14 page)

26

“Three clicks,” the AiSP states. “Prepare for agent extraction and cargo procurement.”

The Clean Guard troopers all double check weapons and suits. Their pure white body armor gleams in the matching sterile white interior of the transport. StatShields are activated and dialed up to full power. The troopers stand as one and face the rear of the transport, ready to deploy.

The Slides fall back so they all follow the transport, letting the larger vehicle take point.

“Two clicks until contact,” the AiSP says. “Are all clear on the objective?”

Everyone answers in the affirmative.

“It has been confirmed that witnesses are no longer desired,” the AiSP says. “Cleanse the site with extreme prejudice.”

There is tense silence then, “One click to contact.”

The rear of the transport opens and the Clean Guard set themselves for the violence ahead.

27

“Living people?” Ton asks, his attention fully on the doctor. “Are they being quarantined? Was there an outbreak of something new in Caldicott City?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Dr. DeBeers says. “To both questions. But what is in those cylinders is way above your clearance, Lieutenant. You have already stepped over several lines. I would advise backing off and getting control of your operators.”

“Who are they?” Blaze asks. “What did they do other than get sick?”

“I didn’t say they are sick,” Dr. DeBeers says. “In fact they are the opposite of sick.”

“LT?” Paulo says, watching the reading on his visor. “Sir? We have company.”

“Give me details, Sergeant,” Ton says, his eyes never leaving Dr. DeBeers.

“Can’t say,” Paulo replies, trying to make sense of the scattered information on his visor. “No sat signal means we are just bouncing off the booster in the transport. It’s still online because of the circulating residual power.”

“I’ve got random readings from the south,” Blaze says, taking deep breaths as he gets his anger at Dr. DeBeers under control and focuses on his job. He keeps one hand firmly planted on the kid’s shoulder. “Now I see a cluster coming in from the north.”

“I don’t see shit,” Hoagie moans from the ground, pulling his helmet off and tossing it aside. “Know why? Because someone fried me with a fucking baton. Anyone care to fess up to that?”

“Sorry, man,” Blaze says. “I just couldn’t let you kill the kid.”

“I ge
t that,” Hoagie nods, getting to his feet. He stands for a second, bending over with his head between his legs. Paulo moves towards him, but he holds out a hand, warding him off. “I’m good. I got this.”

“You gonna be solid, operator?” Ton asks, looking over his shoulder and catching Hoagie’s eye.

“I’m solid, sir,” Hoagie replies. “But when this is done that kid and me are going to have a long chat.”

“Fair enough,” Ton shrugs.

“Your callous attitude towards the lives of those that inhabit the Sicklands is hardly compatible with your caring about the bodies within the cylinder, Lieutenant,” Dr. DeBeers says. “A little hypocritical, if you ask me.”

“I
didn’t
ask you, doctor,” Ton replies. “And you can’t be comparing Cooties to Clean Nation citizens. There is a huge difference.”

“
You are correct there,” Dr. DeBeers says. A beeping comes from her wrist and she presses the spot where her PSC is embedded. “Go.”

“Doctor? Do you have sat com?” Ton asks, stepping closer to the woman. She holds up a finger and Ton stops, confused. “Doctor?”

“Ready,” Dr. DeBeers says. “No witnesses? Fine. It’ll make the situation cleaner that way. I have the cargo ready. I’ll paint it so there is no confusion.”

“Doctor!” Ton shouts. “You will tell me what is happening right now or-”

The doctor’s hand comes up fast and before Ton can move, he’s hit with thousands of volts of static. He flies back several feet, slamming to the ground just past Hoagie.

“The bitch did not just do that,” Hoagie says, snapping his baton into a rifle and taking
a bead on the doctor. “Stand down or I put you down.”

“They’re here!” Paulo shouts and turns towards the road as the lights of the transport and the Slides splits the darkness of the night. “Wait, it’s Clean Guard! We’re good!”

“No, you aren’t,” Dr. DeBeers says, firing at Hoagie who is able to jump to the side, roll and then come up fast, his rifle barking static.

Dr. DeBeers ducks into the transport, avoiding the blasts. Blaze stands there, baton in one hand, kid in the other. He looks at Ton’s unconscious form and then at the approaching lights from the Clean Guard.

“Retreat,” Blaze says then louder, “Retreat! We need to fucking run, boys!” He calls Gorge to him and points at the kid. “He’s yours.”

Gorge woofs and turns her attention on the boy. The kid just stares down at the bug hound. The two lock eyes. Blaze leans close, but not too close.

“Get the hell out of here, kid,” Blaze says. “I know you are more than a Cootie, so I will find you. Try to run from my dog and she’ll rip your nuts off and make you watch while she eats them.” Gorge looks up at Blaze and whines. “Well, maybe not eat them, but she will fuck you up.”

“I know where to go,” the boy says. “You should come with
me. Clean Guard kills everything in the Sicklands.”

“We’re GenSOF,” Blaze smiles. “They won’t kill us. We’ll be good.” He looks over at the transport and the smile goes away. “I think.”

When he looks back, the kid is already running off into the night, the almost invisible form of Gorge right behind him.

“Doctor!” Blaze shouts. “Get out here so you can explain your actions to the Clean Guard!”

The white transport and Slides come to a stop and the rear of the transport opens as a dozen Clean Guard troopers rush out, rifles up, pointed at Zebra squad.

“Hey, we’re friendlies!” Paulo shouts.

His training reads the body language of the Clean Guard and he ratchets up the power on his StatShield just as the Clean Guards’ rifles start firing. He takes a blast directly to his chest and tumbles head over heels until he’s slumped against two of the Sicklands’ bug hounds’ corpses.

“I knew it,” Hoagie says, running sideways as he opens fire, sending blast after blast towards the Clean Guard. “Suck my sick dick, bitches!”

Two of the troopers go down fast, their bodies doubling over as static blasts rip into their midsections, scorching the pristine white armor. Hoagie jumps into a diving roll as four blasts rip up the ground his feet just occupied. He comes up and presses his back against the GenSOF transport, firing as fast as he can before he has to dodge another volley of blasts.

“Paulo! Talk to me!” Blaze yells as he runs the opposite direction from Hoagie, trying to pin the
troopers between them. “Paulo!”

He’s too far away to hear the man grunt in response, but he does see Paulo weakly raise a hand. Half the
troopers spin and engage Blaze, their rifles just missing as Blaze sprints full out towards a pile of rock at the very base of the hillside.

A scream goes up as one of the
troopers goes down, his leg shredded by Munch. Another trooper turns to assist his comrade and blast the dog, but he falls also, his vertebrae compressing from the impact of a flying Snorts. Even with the body armor on, a loud crack rings out as the man’s spine snaps.

Blaze gets to the boulders and ducks his head as chunks of rock spray against him from several static blasts. He
dives and cranks his suit’s power to high, trying to get as much protection as possible. His visor flickers and he can see that he doesn’t have a ton of power left. If the transport was operational the suit would wirelessly siphon power from the nuclear cell system, but that isn’t an option.

The
rocks around him shudders from blast after blast and Blaze knows he can’t stay there long or they’ll just advance on his location and surround him. He switches vision and spots a crevice in the hillside a few yards off. If he can get to that, he can hold a defensible position. At least long enough to try to talk to the Clean Guard and figure out what the hell is going on.

He stands and sprints towards the crevice, static blasts exploding about his feet. He’s five feet, four feet, three feet- bam!

Blaze goes down as the back of his right thigh erupts in a fireball of pain. He reaches back and grabs at his leg, spinning and falling against the hillside, just out of reach of the crevice. Six of the troopers are rushing him, rifles up. They take aim and Blaze watches the tips of the rifles glow blue then white hot.

Kill shots.

Then the static dissipates and dies as the troopers lower their rifles. They all cock their heads like they are receiving orders.

“See,” Blaze says, holding up his hands. “We’re GenSOF. Same side. This is all a big misunderstanding.”

The lead trooper walks forward and kneels down next to Blaze. He raises his hand and a thin line of blue light sweeps across Blaze’s face.

“Please disengage your visor so I can get an accurate reading and confirm your identity,” the trooper says. “Comply now.”

“Fine, fine,” Blaze says and the static visor blinks out. “There. We good?”

“Thank you, operator,” the trooper says as he scans Blaze. “Identity confirmed. Shall we proceed, doctor?”

“Uh, I’m not a doctor,” Blaze says. He tries to get up, but the trooper places a hand on his chest and holds him in place. Blaze looks at the hand and then over at the GenSOF transport. “Wait…doctor?”

“We can handle him con
scious, doctor,” the trooper says. “But if you insist.”

“Insist on what?” Blaze asks, bringing up his baton way too late as the fist slams into his face.
His head rocks back and he tastes blood. “What the fuck?”

The fist connects again and Blaze’
s world starts to swim. The trooper stands and jabs the end of a baton against Blaze’s neck.

“Good night, operator,” the trooper says. “Glad I’m not you.”

Blaze’s body twitches hard then goes rigid just before he slumps into unconsciousness.

“Cargo acquired, doctor,” the trooper says, waving over the rest to pick Blaze up. “Loading into the transport now. Ready for departure to Control when you are.”

28

Dr. DeBeers waves her hand across the surface of the first cylinder and the embedded hover strips on the bottom and side come to life, lifting it from the stack. She swipes both hands to the left and the cylinder pivots, just barely missing her as she steps out of the way and directs it towards the hatch.

A loud growling stops her in her tracks.

Tequila is standing there on the other side of the cylinder, blocking the way to the hatch.

“I kinda heard everything,” Milo grunts from his spot on the floor. “That includes your orders
for the Clean Guard to take Blaze.”

“And now you are going to stop me?” Dr. DeBeers asks, her eyes taking in every detail around her.
She coughs loudly and staggers a bit.

“I don’t think I’m up to it,” Milo grins weakly. “
And doesn’t exactly sound like you are either. But Tequila there is rip roaring ready to go. You’ll have to get past him to get out of here. You may have some Control tricks up your sleeve, but not enough to take down my bug hound.”

“Do you have any idea what happens when someone disobeys Control?” Dr. DeBeers asks. She glances at the cylinder. “It’s not pretty.”

“Is that who you have in those things?” Milo asks. “People that won’t fall in line with the Control narrative?”

“This one? Yes,” Dr. DeBeers says. “The others are bystanders caught up in a web so big their little Caldicott City minds can’t even comprehend the scope.”

“Collateral damage?” Milo asks. “I’m very familiar with that.”

“As an operator, I am sure you are,” Dr. DeBeers says. “Can we make a deal, Sergeant?”

“Probably not.”

“Care to try?”

Milo shrugs.

“You call off your Canine Unit and let me go without incident,” Dr. DeBeers says. “I only take this cylinder and leave the others. You get three of the four. When it is all finished outside you will be the last survivor and can invent whatever story you would like. Let me go, keep this quiet, and you will live to fight another day.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then once I leave, and I
will
leave, this transport, with you in it, will be vaporized,” Dr. DeBeers says. “In fact every inch of ground for five square clicks will be vaporized. It will be as if Zebra squad never existed. No legacy left for the annals of GenSOF history.”

“You think I’ll agree so that my squad can be remembered for post
erity?” Milo laughs. “What stim mist are you smoking, lady?”

“Is that a no?” Dr. DeBeers asks.

“It’s a fuck no,” Milo says. “So sit your ass down and we’ll wait until my squad sorts this all out.”

Dr. DeBeers points to the hatch. “Do you hear that out there, Sergeant?” The sounds of static blasts and rock exploding filters into the transport. “Does that sound like your squad is winning?”

“Yeah,” Milo smiles. “It does.”

Dr. DeBeers’s confidence lessens as she listens closely and can hear the cries of men and women as they are taken down by static fire.

“Care to grab that seat now?” Milo asks. “Or should I have Tequila rip your seat off?”

“Neither,” Dr. DeBeers says, pressing her wrist and twisting the white glove she has on. She points her hand at Milo and frowns. “You had your chance, Sergeant.”

Her hand glows blue and she is about to fire when the cylinder slams into her, causing the blast to scorch the ceiling of the transport. If it had hit Milo, it would have melted half his head away. The cylinder spins around and the corner catches Dr. DeBeers in the stomach.

“Good boy,” Milo says as Tequila rams into the cylinder again, forcing Dr. DeBeers to hit the floor and roll under it.

The dog rushes at the doctor and clamps its jaws around her shoulder, pulling her towards the hatch and outside, dragging the threat away from Milo.

“Put her down hard, Tequila!” Milo shouts. “Teach the good doctor a lesson in how we do things in GenSOF!”

Dr. DeBeers struggles to get free of the bug hound, but the dog’s jaw muscles are too powerful and every time she tries to twist away, more of her armor shreds, bringing the black teeth closer and closer to tender flesh.

“Release the doctor!” a trooper shouts as she raises her rifle and fires at Tequila.

The bug hound lets go and jumps back, barely dodging the static blast. It looks at the trooper with rage filled black eyes and charges. The woman fires again, but she’s too late as Tequila leaps and sends all of his weight into her chest. They fall to the ground, tumbling over and over, each trying to get the dominant position.

Dr. DeBeers looks at the transport hatch and debates going back for the cylinder, but a static blast flies out from inside and the decision is made for her. Scrambling backwards on her feet and ass, she tries to put some distance between her and the transport, unsure of just how mobile Sergeant Kailua is.

“What have you done?” Ton croaks as his hand clamps onto her wrist.

She turns and gets to her feet, pulling her wrist free, and starts kicking the man again and again in the head. His helmet takes most of the impact, but the violence is enough to knock the small bit of sense he was able to regain right back out again. His eyes flicker and then roll up into his head, showing only bloodshot whites.

“Doctor!” a trooper shouts as he runs towards her. “Doctor! Get dow-”

A static blast rips across his visor and his head snaps to the side. His neck broken from the impact, he’s dead before his body hits the ground. Dr. DeBeers whirls around to see Paulo positioned behind
a pile of dead bug hounds. He turns his rifle on her and she takes off running.

Static blasts kick up around her legs and she can feel the heat and sting of the electricity as Paulo finds his aim. The hair on the back of her neck stands on end and she knows the next blast will hit her square on, but she keeps running. A Slide speeds around the transport and stops between her and the incoming blast. Blue sparks fill the night as the Slide’s shield absorbs the static, saving the doctor from certain death.

“Cargo has been loaded in the transport,” the Slide rider states, pulling a pistol and firing at Paulo. “Transport is ready to depart, doctor. The Slides will clean up here.”

Dr. DeBeers nods at the rider and keeps running, booking it around the GenSOF transport and to the
Clean Guard one that waits with its rear hatch wide open.

“All troopers need to board immediately!” Dr. DeBeers yells. “We leave now!”

“Yes, doctor,” the AiSP voice responds. “I will convey the order.”

She gets into the transport and stumbles to a wall, putting her hand out to hold her up while she
struggles to catch her breath. Images, grotesque and strange flicker through her mind and she shakes her head to clear it.

“Are you injured, doctor?” the AiSP asks. “I am not showing any trauma to your body.
Shall I perform a full scan?”

“I’m fine,” Dr. DeBeers says. She sees a trooper standing over the unconscious body of Blaze, who is strapped into a transport seat, his wrists and ankles bound and secured. The trooper is twirling something on his finger. “What’s that?”

“Some necklace,” the trooper says. “He had it around his neck.”

“Let me see it,” the doctor says, holding out her hand.

The trooper hands it over. Dr. DeBeers studies the smooth metal medallion, turning it this way and that. She flinches as a blast rips up dirt a few yards outside the rear hatch.

“AiSP?” Dr. DeBeers asks. “What is your analysis of this?”

“Alloy steel,” the AiSP says. “Same type used in many electronic applications.”

“Does it give off a signal?” Dr. DeBeers asks. “Is there any sign of a power source within?”

“No, doctor, the metal is inert. Analysis shows that it is decorative only and holds no actual functionality.”

“Good,” Dr. DeBeers says as she tosses it out the rear of the transport.

Troopers start to stream into the transport and when all are present the rear of the transport seals tight.

“Driver? Get us the hell out of here,” Dr. DeBeers says as she sits in an empty seat and straps in. “I’m done with the Sicklands and those GenSOF apes.”

“Yes, doctor,” the driver says and turns the transport about, taking the Clean Guard back the way they came, heading for Control.