Gravewalkers: Dying Time (6 page)

Critias’ ship came down on
autopilot to hover next to him and the men under his command. He
transmitted a signal to open the door and then waved for the
soldiers to jump aboard.

So many ghouls charged into
their quarter of the city that their screams were louder than the
guns that ripped them apart. Explosions and bullets shredded ten
thousand of the attackers into slop. The infectious filth
splattered every surface and dripped from the plastic suits that
protected the personnel. Not even the blasted meat was really dead
or any less infective. In time, the bits of tissue would find their
way into the soil or the water of the sewers to contaminate the
environment indefinitely as if it wasn’t so already.

Critias leaped into his
ship in time to escape the infected that came after them along the
top of the wall while down below runners inundated the breach then
spread out like angry hornets to pursue the tactically retreating
defenders by sprinted leaps.

As Critias took the pilot’s
seat, Daniels asked, “How about we knock some buildings down to
make a kind of firebreak? This noise is calling in every infected
in the city and the transport isn’t even here yet.”

Critias replied, “A gunship
doesn’t pack the kind of firepower to cut a building in half.” He
piloted away from the wall then repositioned to fire his cannons
into the breach to stem the flow of ghouls.

“
We know these buildings,
marshal,” Daniels told Critias with confidence. “All of them are
rusted-out deathtraps on their last legs. That big one there has
been completely off limits because it is hanging on a thread. If we
hit it in the right place, it will come down. I can guarantee you
that.”

Critias agreed with the
plan, “Where is that right place?”

Daniels pointed out the
building he wanted, “Put us inside with some explosives and we can
take care of the rest.”

Critias told Daniels the
security code to his weapons locker as he flew the ship toward the
fragile building. His ship’s rotary teslaflux cannons easily sliced
open the face of the masonry to expose the structural steel beams
at about the sixth floor; some additional hypersonic tungsten slugs
severed the girders then Critias crushed open the remnants using
the armored hull of his ship.

The recon team emptied the
locker of flux grenades, plastic explosives, and primer cord. While
Critias held the ship in a steady hover, the men jumped out the
side door into the building.

Damage from the tank that
started all the problems gave the infected direct access to the
motor pool at the heart of the installation. The defenders fell
back by that route while the tanks did what they could to give them
some cover. The infected already swarmed through the entire area
within the perimeter to the exclusion of the core building. They
had dragged down and killed at least a dozen personnel, and were
hot after the rest.

Two more marshals’ gunships
joined the first to suppress the infected while a large reclamation
carrier came down then hovered at the landing pad on the roof of
the tower where it began the evacuation of the
survivors.

Critias fired his cannons
into the slew while he waited for the recon team to return to the
ship. They took longer than he had hoped. He was about to radio
them for an update when his ship suddenly rocked from the impact of
a massive hunter that dropped onto his front view port.

“
Hurry up, gentlemen,”
Critias radioed his team. “I’ve got a hunter crawling all over
me.”

The hunter was nothing like
the brute that Daniels had shot; this one was a legless crawler
that brachiated like an orangutan on oversize arms strong enough to
tear a mechsuit in half.

“
We are on the way out,”
Daniels transmitted, “and they’re right on our ass!”

Critias wanted to move the
ship to shake off the hunter, but the recon team was about to jump
aboard. The hunter snapped off a radio antenna as it swung from it
to one of the projecting teslaflux cannons so Critias triggered off
the gun just as the hunter stupidly gripped onto the tip of the
muzzle. The round vaporized the creature’s arm to send the rest of
its body on a spiraling six-story descent to the street.

The recon team fired their
rifles at a pack of ghouls that chased them through the building
then Daniels held the pack off with some grenades while his team
jumped into the gunship. He finally joined them at a rifle-blazing
leap so Critias could pilot clear of the tower then fly for the
rooftop where the evacuees gathered for extraction.

Daniels shouted, “Scavenger
this!” as he transmitted the detonation signal, which caused
tremendous explosions that vomited flailing ghouls and debris out
many windows. As the bombs deprived the decrepit tower of its last
remaining structural integrity, the whole thing toppled forward
under its own titanic weight, shaking the earth under an epic
tonnage of collapsing wreckage that kicked up a cloud of dust so
large and thick that it would be clearly visible from
space.

For the infected, it was
worse than darkness within the cloud of dust as it formed mud in
their eyes, clogged their noses, and desiccated their throats. They
could no longer locate prey and lacked the intelligence to reason
their way out of their calamity, so the infected started to savage
one another in their blind fury. The collapsed building proved
itself to be a miracle for the humans as they escaped from the
doomed installation.

As Critias landed on the
corner of the roof, he left plenty of room for the transport to
collect evacuees. “Where are you, Carmen?” he radioed his android.
“Give me a situation report.”

“
Colonel Walker and I are
in the motor pool,” she answered amidst shooting and screams. “The
tank crews are the last people still down here and we’re determined
to get them all out.”

He pledged, “We’re coming
down to help.”

An especially loud infected
wailed over her radio as though it was right in her face. The sound
of thwacking became the resounding snap of thick bone that cut a
piercing shriek off short. “Don’t come down,” she insisted. “I’ve
got everything under control and we’re already coming your
way.”

Critias exited his ship
then waved for the recon team to follow him. “Help get the people
onto the transport,” he ordered them before he switched his helmet
microphone to a loudspeaker, “If you have infected blood on your
chemical suits or clothing, throw it away before boarding the
transport. Anyone infected on the transport will exit the ship by
the airlock into open space!”

The tank crews reached the
roof covered in black soot and hacking up more of it from their
lungs. Colonel Walker was in the same condition as he followed
behind them.

When Carmen reached the
roof last, her bightstaff dripped infected blood and brains. She
shouted to Critias, “That’s everyone!”

One of the riflemen went to
Colonel Walker then showed him the bloody bite mark on his forearm,
“I’ve been bitten, sir. I’ll hold the infected off for as long as I
can.” With rifle ready, the man ran back down into the stairwell to
fight until he fell doing it.

The transport’s cargo hold
was spacious enough to evacuate everyone. Colonel Walker, Critias,
and the recon team made sure everyone got aboard until they alone
remained outside the ship with the android Carmen.

“
This is Marshal Critias,”
he radioed the transport pilot. “Take off immediately! The rest of
us will get out on my gunship.” The doors closed on the transport
then its teslaflux drive-aura made the air hum as it lifted off. As
he headed for his ship with the mechsuit recon team following,
Critias shouted to Walker, “Let’s go, colonel!”

Colonel Walker pulled out a
pair of teslaflux grenades, one for each hand; cocking his head
toward the stairwell door, he said to Critias, “For the life of me,
I can’t seem to remember that man’s name. You find out and write
the recommendation for me then render my apologies to the Council
of Governors while you are at it.” He turned, ran with a short
dash, and then leaped off the roof. Long seconds later, the muffled
explosions of his grenades came up from the street far
below.

Critias, Carmen, and the
Red Rats boarded his ship then took off for orbit.

“
This is Marshal Alice of
the Gunship Raptor,” a woman transmitted on the general flight
frequency. “By order of Grand Marshal Wayne, the reclamation
freighter Grapple and the marshals’ gunship Achilles will stand off
for twenty four hour quarantine and decontamination period. If you
attempt to dock, I will fire upon your vessels. Confirm your orders
immediately.”

“
This is Grapple,” came
her first answer. “We confirm our orders and are initiating command
control lockout. Central Flight now has remote pilot
access.”

“
Orders received, Alice,”
Critias answered. “The Achilles stands down.”

“
I’m glad you made it
out,” Alice told Critias. “Welcome home, big brother.”

Chapter 2: One
Homecoming Too Many

After the quarantine
period, the medics spent another eight hours as they cleared the
evacuees through all their decontamination procedures. When the
doctors released Critias to move about the Homer freely, a message
came to him that he should report to the Grand Marshal
immediately.

Critias went to the nearest
transport tube then took a car on the way to his boss’ office. When
he pressed the doorbell, the artificially intelligent door
announced him with a pleasant voice that spoke on the other side,
“Marshal Captain Critias Virgil is here.”

A moment before the Grand
Marshal’s Delta android secretary Elizabeth opened the door,
Critias believed he heard an unfamiliar voice in the room beyond
and it said, “Critias, that son of a bitch! I’d give anything to
get my hands on that,” and then it abruptly faded away. The sound
was so feint that Critias couldn’t even be certain it was real, as
if perhaps his overactive imagination had just fabricated it as a
symptom of some inner anxiety that lingered from his traumatic
adventure in Chicago.

The door opened to reveal
Elizabeth’s smiling face. Unlike Carmen who the bioengineers had
built to withstand combat level punishment, Elizabeth was a
technical android only suited for bedroom, office, or laboratory
tasks. On the surface, she was an attractive female with peculiar
silvery-white hair but otherwise she was essentially
indistinguishable from human, if the observer overlooked an
android’s bit-too-perfect countenance.

“
Come in, Captain
Critias,” she welcomed him. “The Grand Marshal is expecting
you.”

Critias knew the sultry
android well, “Is that a new voice you have? It seems more
beguiling than usual.”

She had all the vanity so
common to the androids, “Do you really think so?”

As he recalled the strange
male voice that he had first heard through the door, Critias asked
her, “Is the Grand Marshal speaking to anyone? Should I come back
later?”

“
No,” she said sweetly as
she also took his arm like to escort him.

“
Leave him alone,
Elizabeth,” the Grand Marshal told her from inside his adjacent
office space. “Critias is here to see me.”

Elizabeth walked Critias in
then departed as he found the Grand Marshal where he sat at his
desk, smoked a thick cigar, and had a half-full glass of bourbon
before him with the bottle standing by. “I’m not sure yet,” Critias
told him facetiously, “but I’m thinking your suspicions may have
been right; there could be some problems with the Chicago
reclamation center.”

Elizabeth came back in to
join them, “There is a communication coming in for you, Grand
Marshal. Governor Grant wishes to speak with you.”

“
Bah,” the Grand Marshal
exclaimed. “It’s been like this all day.” He spun about his chair
in a one-eighty to face his wall screen as it lit up to the image
of Governor Grant on Station Two, the Shelley, where the
bioengineers had their android factories. “Good afternoon, Governor
Grant. How can I be of service to you?”

The governor told him, “I
want to commend you for your foresight in ordering the evacuation
of the Chicago ERC in time to save most of the personnel. At the
next meeting of the Council, I am forwarding the motion that we
formerly recognize your exemplary service with a Feast of
Thanks.”

Wayne appreciated the
gesture, “You’re too kind, Governor Grant. I’m sure the people will
be grateful. I was just doing my job.”

Grant added, “We all sleep
better at night knowing you will continue to do so.”

“
Excuse me, Governor
Grant,” Critias spoke up.

The governor was unsure of
Critias’ name, “Yes, marshal?”

Critias told him, “Colonel
Walker, sir, he asked that I tell the Council of Governors that he
sends his apology for any shortcomings you find in his command
ability.”

“
I will pass along the
message,” the governor assured then ended his call.

“
A Feast of Thanks,”
Critias repeated to the Grand Marshal. “How many times have the
people grown fatter celebrating your heroic accomplishments,
sir?”