Wasteland Rules: Born to Fight (The World After Book 2) (5 page)

  “Okay, okay!” The scientist capitulated.

 He gestured to someone out of view and they brought
Rora back in. The sergeant’s eyes practically bugged out of his head in
disbelief when he saw Derek holding the soldier. He turned and stared at the
scientist angrily. Rora looked relieved when she saw that Derek had taken
control of the situation.

  “Let go of her.” Derek ordered.

   The sergeant let go of her and stepped back. “If
you hurt my man Storm, you are dead.” He furiously informed Derek.

   “You aren’t a sergeant are you? Head of Security
maybe? Is Augie even your name?” Derek replied.

   The man nodded slowly. “You’re skills were not
exaggerated, that’s for sure. Augie is my real name, but you are correct I am
the Head of Security for the base. I am in fact a general in the United States
Air Force. I pretended to be just the driver so I could measure your reactions
for myself. I didn’t initially think you were a threat, but the blood test
results were impossible to ignore.”

   “You mean, were a general.”

   The two men on the other side of the glass shared
a look. “Sure. Was a general. Now release my man.” The former sergeant
commanded.

   “I want answers first. What is going on here?”
Derek demanded.

    The two men shared another look. “That is
classified and on a need to know basis. Frankly we don’t trust you enough to
share more than we have. Just bringing you here was a huge risk. You could be a
Collective or U.S.T.G. spy.”

   Derek growled and instinctively tightened up his
grip on the unconscious soldier in his arms. “Okay, then what is going on with
my DNA?”

  Rora spoke before the either of the two men could
answer. “I may know something about that.”

  All three stared at her in amazement. “Do tell…”
Derek invited her in a cold tone.

   “I think you are superhuman.” She ventured.

   “Like Wolverine or Spiderman?” Derek asked
incredulously.

   “Not exactly. It’s just a guess, but my father
worked on a project for the U.S. Army called Project SuPERHUMAAN. It stood for
Superior Physique Endurance Reflexes and Healing and Upgraded Mental Acuity
Agility and Night vision. They were trying to recreate specific animal biologic
responses in humans. He mentioned that they experimented on dying patients to
see if they could trigger the lizard’s regenerative abilities. He figured if
they died then nothing was lost, but if it worked they could save that man. You
said you were blown up in China and woke up in the U.S. Maybe they did it to
save you while you were unconscious. It would explain your strength, night
vision, super-fast reflexes, amazingly accurate aim, and uncanny healing
ability.”

   The scientist and the general looked at her and
nodded. “That would explain the link to the Collective.” The scientist
murmured.

   “Wait. So I’m not human anymore?” Derek asked in
confusion.

   “I think the correct term is trans-human…” Rora
replied cautiously.

   “What the heck does that mean?” Derek demanded.

   “Think of it as an improved version of humanity
with greater abilities.” The scientist explained.

   “I guess that explains everything…I’m not a
Collective spy. So how do we resolve our current standoff?” Derek asked.

   “We still don’t know you well enough to read you
in. But, we might have a way for you to prove yourself. We have a job that only
someone with your unique skill set and experience could solve for us…” The
general offered.

   “Yes, complete this task for us and we could be
sure of your trustworthiness and bring you into the circle.” The scientist
agreed excitedly.

   “What exactly is this task that I am uniquely
suited for?” Derek asked dryly.

   “The Cartel took three of our people; we want you
to get them back.” The general explained simply.

   “That’s all huh. What about the other people
trying to kill me to get the device? The U.S.T.G., the Collective, and the
Outfit.”

   “The government and the Collective don’t go into
Cartel territory and I wouldn’t worry about the Outfit, the rumor is they were
wiped out yesterday.”

June 16, 2029

Outfit HQ near Lenoir, NC

   The ruins smoldered as Captain Tom Zabrowski
surveyed the remains of the Outfit’s headquarters. Burned vehicles and dead
bodies littered the grounds. The buildings themselves had been reduced to piles
of concrete. His troops, the elite Red Berets, searched the complex for
survivors; but he suspected there would be none. The Outfit troops had fought
to the last man in defense of their little paradise. He had to admit with
grudging respect that they had been worthy foes. They had put up a much greater
fight than expected, which had resulted in the use of the Red Berets in
addition to regular commandos.

   The attack was supposed to be a surprise. Stealth
helicopters were to have dropped the commandoes into the complex where they
would kill the few Outfit guards, secure the facilities, and take the
intelligence stored there. Ground troops would sweep in shortly thereafter to
take over. But there had been many more troops than expected and the base had
been prepared for their attack. Tom suspected that the traitor inside the
Outfit had actually been a double agent and had warned them of the attack.

   Hidden Surface to Air Missile batteries had shot
down the approaching choppers with a heavy loss of life. Intelligence had not
indicated that level of capability and the attacking troops were caught
completely off guard. Well entrenched and camouflaged anti-tank guns and heavy
machine guns had also wreaked serious havoc on the ground troops, driving them
back. The commanding officer had been forced to call in airstrikes to silence
them. The resulting ruins had then provided great protection for the remaining
defenders. The ensuing battle had ultimately resulted in the complete
destruction of the base and the death of everyone on it. It was still unclear
where the Outfit had gotten all their materiel, but he suspected they had been
smuggling it in for years from the various hot spots they had been deployed to.
That indicated a very high level of planning and organization.

   They had still been wiped out by the inexorable
might of the U.S.T.G. military. Served them right for going against the
rightful government. If they hadn’t been planning a coup against the President,
this never would have happened.  But they had succeeded in causing heavy
casualties and the destruction of very valuable vehicles. There were few new
armored vehicles and even fewer helicopters being built. The materials were in
short supply and there was limited manufacturing capability. Add to that the
failure to capture any meaningful intelligence, of which the Outfit surely had
a good deal, and the operation was almost a complete failure.

   His men swept the rubble for anything valuable
anyway. They were also using handheld devices to fingerprint and do retinal
scans every Outfit man they could find. They would be checked against the
database of known Outfit people to make sure they got them all. They were
especially trying to find the body of the CEO Alvin Prinz. Unfortunately many
bodies were completely buried in the rubble and may never be dug out. But he
was thorough and followed orders completely. That was how he had become the
commander of Zeta Force, the elite of the Red Berets. The elite of the elite.

   Tom smiled to himself. Not bad for a Polish kid
from Chicago. He had excelled on the football field playing linebacker for the
Chicago Bears. His ferocity and tenaciousness had gotten him noticed by the
Army recruiters and they had sent him to basic training. His utter loyalty to
the regime and his brutality in combat training had gotten him selected for Red
Beret training. He had quickly risen in the ranks as he completed each mission
without hesitation or failure.

  The Red Berets were sometimes called the Bloody
Berets behind their backs. The legend was that they dyed white berets red with
the blood of their first kill. It wasn’t true, but the Red Berets were known
for the unwillingness to retreat, as well as their brutality and lack of
restraint. They finished the job or didn’t come back. They were the elite
special forces of the U.S.T.G. and they were sent into difficult and sometimes
secret situations. They were the scalpel to the Army’s hammer. Thousands tried
out every year, but only three hundred or so made it; and some of them were
removed because they weren’t willing to go as far as necessary to be a Red
Beret.

   Tom had risen even further to become the
commander of the Zeta Force. He had a reputation as one of the most dedicated
and loyal officers in the Army. He was also well known for his cool headedness
under fire and his complete lack of fear. He had gathered similar people around
him to serve under him. They were truly the best soldiers in the world, and
they had proven it again by wiping out the Outfit.

   They were equipped with the latest technology
that the U.S.T.G. could get its hands on or manufacture. They all had advanced
Tetsudo 3 body armor that had been produced during the Collapse for Force
Protection units. It was lighter than Kevlar with just as much stopping power
and it also had the secondary function of camouflaging their heat signature. And
it also covered the arms and legs in addition to the torso. Nothing short of a
20mm cannon round could penetrate it. A helmet with an attached face mask that
sealed for nuclear, chemical, or biological attacks completed the armor. Although,
most of the time they left that off and just used a neoprene facemask. The
armor matched their BDUs and was covered in digital pattern desert camouflage,
which made sense now that everything was brown.

   He and his troops had just been issued the new
M-18 Infantry Combat Weapons from the new plant in the restarted Springfield
Armory. The M-18 ICW program encompassed a series of weapons for various roles
based on the same lower receiver. Barrels, the upper receiver, and accessories
could be swapped out to create the right weapon for the mission. Much of the
weapon was made from composite materials, and the whole thing was made on state
of the art commercial 3-D printers. It replaced all rifles and machine guns
previously used by the army and it was more accurate, had a higher rate of
fire, and was easier to maintain. Eventually the entire Army and Federal Police
force would get the new weapons, but for now only the elite forces were armed
with it.

   He watched as his handpicked troops searched
through the ruins for anything useful. There was Lieutenant Rosarita “Rosa”
Martinez, his second in command. Tom didn’t care what race or sex a person was,
only how loyal and skilled they were. She was tall for a woman at 5’9” and in
great shape. She had been an MMA fighter on the Detroit Strikers, an American
Fighting Championship team, before joining the Army. She was still a fitness
freak and a vicious hand to hand fighter. She carried an automatic grenade
launcher which she could use to devastating effect.

   With her was Sergeant Zach Shrader, his heavy
gunner. At 6’5” the man was a monster and handled the heavy barreled M-18M that
had replaced the SAW like it was a pistol. He was very strong and equally
stupid, but he was very loyal to Tom personally and therefore very reliable. He
was also a muscle freak and often lifted with Rosa. Tom suspected they had a
thing on the side, but no one ever talked about it. Zach was also from Detroit.
He had been a young street kid struggling to survive and had heavy scarring from
that time. He had originally joined the Army so he could eat. But he had found
that the Army didn’t care that he was black or dumb and had valued his immense
physical gifts and blind loyalty. He and Tom had been together since basic
training at Fort Pinnacle in Northern Indiana, where Tom had defended him
against soldiers bullying him for his lack of intelligence.

   The wiry Sergeant Savio Montoya was his
explosives expert. An ex-gang member from Cleveland, he mostly kept to himself.
Tom found him slightly creepy, but he obeyed orders and was a wizard with
explosives. His improvised devices had saved their lives several times. That
allowed him to overlook the fact that Savio seemed to sneak off a lot during
their down times. But he was also a great scrounger and frequently had hard to
find parts or forbidden food he shared with the team. He carried an M-18C
Carbine.

   The sniper of the team was Sergeant Saad Ali, a
third generation Arab from Battle Creek, Michigan. He was very quiet and very
focused; which of course was perfect for a sniper. Tom knew little about him
since he kept to himself. Saad had been investigated after a rumor had surfaced
he was a Muslim, which was illegal in the U.S.T.G. The only legal religion in
the U.S.T.G. was the state sponsored Church of America. The investigation had
found nothing and been dropped. Saad had won the Riflemanship Challenge for
three years running before he “retired” and he had never missed a shot in
combat as far as Tom knew, and that was all he cared about. His M-18S had a
longer barrel, custom grip, and a special scope on it and he treated that thing
like his baby. Tom didn’t need to know anything about him except that Saad was
an excellent shot.

  Surveying the team’s work from the other side was
his ranking NCO, Master Sergeant Jamal Bennett. Jamal was an enigma to Tom. A
tall, fit black man who only spoke when necessary and never shared any personal
details. The only things Tom knew about him, was that he was from Chicago like
himself and he was an excellent NCO. Always calm, cool, and collected under
fire. His advice had proven very valuable and Tom leaned on him heavily for his
combat experience. Jamal carried an M-18AR(G) with an under slung grenade
launcher and had a belt of 40 mm grenades looped over his shoulder.

  Near him was the odd couple of the team, Sergeants
Bryan Stone and Daron Jones. Stone was an unabashed redneck from Indiana and
Daron was a young black man who had made it out of the ghettoes of St. Louis.
Bryan was his point man and carried the M-18CS which had an under slung semi
-automatic shotgun. His hunting skills and fieldcraft were second to none. When
he wanted to be he was completely silent.

   Unfortunately, he and Daron were rarely quiet,
always jawing at each other. Daron was the team’s mechanic and had a natural
ability with engines. He had entered the army as a raw recruit with no skills,
but the drill instructors had discovered his aptitude and put him in advanced
training. That was the beauty of the new Army. It was truly merit based. Race,
age, and gender mattered little. It was all about what you could do and if you
were loyal enough to do it. Daron had thrived in his new environment and had
risen quickly in the ranks. Daron also carried an M-18C Carbine.

  Corporals Michael Wu and Alex Smith rounded out
his team. Both men carried M-18C Carbines which they barely used. Wu was a
fourth generation Chinese-American from Pittsburgh. Like most Pittsburghers he
was very mouthy; which got him in a lot of fights. His good looks got him a lot
of attention from the ladies, so it didn’t hurt to have him as your wingman on
leave. He was the team’s communications expert and carried the long range
communication gear. He and Smith hung around together all the time and it was
at first rumored that they were gay, but the rape claims against Smith had
dispelled that.

   Smith was his problem child. Apparently a
sociopath who used the Army as his excuse to do bad things, he was also an
excellent medic. His average appearance made him seem harmless and made him
seem the odd man out on the team. He had been busted down from sergeant
multiple times for bad behavior, usually abuse of prisoners. Tom had brought
him onto the team and used him as an interrogator, which suited the Ohio native
just fine. Occasionally he went too far, but Tom always explained it away as
patriotic zeal to his superiors. This had earned him Smith’s loyalty.

  All in all, they were a very experienced and
capable team. They had performed dozens of successful missions and brought everyone
back alive. Even on missions that had privately been considered suicide
missions by his superiors. This had earned them a degree of freedom and extra
privileges. Their reputation for loyalty and success meant they only got the
toughest and most sensitive missions. As long as they kept performing they
would keep their status. That was a powerful motivator.

   He was yanked from his surveillance by a chime in
his earpiece. “Captain. I have General Ross for you.” A seductive female voice
purred.

  General Ross was the commander of the entire Red
Berets and three levels of command above him. It must be important. Not that
this operation wasn’t important at a high level, but it was rare for the
General to communicate with anyone other than his direct reports. A thin man
with a hyperactive personality and a reputation for a quick temper, General
Ross had become the head of the Red Berets through his connections with the
Headquarters staff. He was known as a hard partier and gambler, but he always
showed up on time and was a very capable leader. His troops were always well
trained and high performing.

   “Yes sir, what can I do for you?” Tom replied
seriously into the vox speaker on his neck.

   “How goes the cleanup in Lenoir?” The General
asked.

   “It’s going sir. We had to practically level the
place to pacify it. The Outfit troops fought to the death to defend it. Unusual
for merks.” Tom reported.

   “Yes, that is unusual. But they were fanatics
trying to overthrow the rightful government so it isn’t that surprising.”