Junkyard War, page 14
Room after room, we cleared our way forward, until we were at the opening to the hallway where Spy first saw the lockstep rats. Here, our timing became tricky because when I inserted my glove cam through a small rat hole, I realized what it really meant for Spy and Maul to successfully attract the rats’ attention. The cats were nowhere to be seen, but the hallway was full to overflowing with marching rats. They were leaving thousands of oversized rat pellets and a stink I could smell in the next room.
The only other way out of the room we were in was through a rat hole in the wallboard into another room that was likely a supply closet on the schematic.
While the others watched the rats on their own cams, I extruded a jigsaw on the universal adjusting tool on my armored glove and cut through the wall—which was nothing but hempfoam insulation and wallboard—to the other side. When I inserted my glove cam, it revealed a storage room for paper products. If there had been rats inside, they had abandoned the room for the rat parade in the hallway. I sawed open the space between metal supports. Mina shoved past me and through.
“Clear,” she muttered into comms.
When I got through the hole, she already had a mini-cam on the end of an old-fashioned fiber-optic cable under the door to the hallway. She reeled it in fast. “Rats.”
I pressed my glove-saw against the wallboard on the other side of the storage room and we emerged into a tiny utility closet. There were more rats on the other side of the only door, so I cut through the back wall. We came out into an unused, dusty office. The hallway on that side of the complex was free of rats, and Mina was first through, clearing the empty corridor, Jagger on her tail. Camilla followed them, her weapon up and ready to fire. Jacopo edged toward her, covering the white-haired girl and me.
We emerged into a part of the bunker that hadn’t been well documented, and we were hell and gone from our own first objective. We opened our helmets, which would have negative repercussions if we ran into people, but it was worth it for the comfort. On the edge of the face shields, just above the sleeve where they retracted, Jolene had posted a possible floor plan that might lead us back to our objectives. Theoretically.
Minutes were passing quickly. We were behind schedule, in the wrong part of the compound, and on the wrong level. On Spy’s camera, I saw an image of a stairway jiggling up and down. I realized she was running full-out, up a level. I caught glimpses of Maul’s front feet as he raced beside her. On the mic pickup, I heard slithering, sliding, tapping, clicking sounds of hundreds of little rat feet chasing after them. It was rats chasing cats, in a reversal of an eons-long hunt.
“Jolene,” I said. “Where are the rats in relation to our twenty and the stockade’s twenty?”
“Sadly, not close enough for you to boil the little beasts. I’m updating your map,” Jolene said, “and I’m estimatin’ there must be three thousand rats chasing the cats. Should you so order, it would be my personal privilege to play the footage for the two people manning the security screens, and watch them mess their drawers knowing they have to fight them. For now, I’ve marked a route to the stockade that lets you avoid all the rats.”
“Jolene, you share that rat-vid at any time you think you should,” I said.
“Oh.” There was an odd silence, and I realized that Jolene had just been told she could think and act independently of me without an established protocol in her databanks. I’d just treated her as another human. “Thank you, Commander Shining Sugah. Roger that.”
I checked the screen, turned right instead of left, which felt like the wrong way, and spotted a door marked with a staircase. Mina inspected the floor and along the stairs with her tiny camera and pronounced it clear. She eased open the heavy door, and Jagger brushed by me. For such a big man he was light on his feet.
“Security cameras are on rolling blackouts and replay along the marked route,” Jolene said. “Hold. There are two humans leaving the upper floor and coming down.”
We backed into the lower hallway, let the door close silently, and waited. The others followed my lead when I deployed my helmet. My hands were sweating inside my armored gloves. I didn’t want to kill someone who hadn’t attacked me, but I might have to. Like the brown-eyed woman. I drew my blaster. Reconsidered and made a fist. Showed it to my team. They nodded, that quick jerky movement of the battlefield or sudden unforeseen violence. I adjusted the anti-recoil settings on my sleeve, and waited.
The door opened.
Jagger took the first one out with a punch that picked the guy up and slammed him into the stairway wall about a meter off the floor.
I clocked the woman, moving in tandem with him. Both of us faster than human.
Camilla stepped back, watching us. Mina and Jacopo covered the stairway as we secured the thralls with military shackles and gags and pulled them into an office. But I knew the three saw the speed, the precision of our movements. That might come back to haunt us later.
Much later, I hoped.
At the next landing, Mina pushed me aside again and took point. Jacopo was at our rear, Camilla beside him. I found myself in a staggered position near Jagger and felt his eyes touch on me and away, as he monitored our progress on the shield screens and ahead, and yet kept track of me too—the hyper-alert focus of an Outlaw Militia Warrior. Or a thrall. Hard to tell the difference.
Over comms, Jolene said, “Don’t open the door to this level y’all. The cams are active, and there’s fifty million rats out there. That was hyperbole, but there’s so many I can’t estimate. The security team on shift just saw the rats, and they are clearly not happy people.”
We came to a stop. Overhead, a red light began blinking. The red light on a camera at the next landing went dark.
Jolene said, “A general alarm has gone out. A team of Warhammer’s thralls has been awakened and called to respond, but they have no idea about the numbers of attacking rats. They are entering the corridor just beyond the stairwell where you are positioned.”
“I need to see this,” Mina said. She eased open the door a crack and dropped a cam with a mic. Over comms came the sound of a door opening. The scream of humans. Answering screams as the mega-sized rodents encountered Warhammer’s panicked thralls. Gunfire rang through the air as the rats attacked anything that smelled of meat.
Jolene put Mina’s cam on our face shields. I saw rats in a mound, quivering as they ate something that was still alive, shaking, and screaming.
I could boil the rodents with my blaster and save the humans. My hand closed on the blaster’s grip before I released it. The humans had stopped firing. Stopped screaming.
Mina cursed, removed the cam, and closed the door, shaking her head as if to shake off the memories of what she had seen. Seems the psychopath had never seen critters eat humans. Except for the flailing it was pretty much like the way the cats attacked dead humans. Soft tissue first.
Camilla edged closer to Jacopo, the two covering our six, moving carefully up the stairs.
I checked Spy’s cam and saw she was close to the stockade. There were no rats there yet. She was ready to create the next distraction we needed to get in and retrieve Evelyn. The plan was for her to push open the door to the bakery, let out a few of the rats she had seen inside that room, and run like her tail was on fire. On the schematic, I saw that all the teams were inside the bunker, moving slowly toward their assigned goals. Jolene was updating everyone about where the rats were, to keep them all safe. Good thing she could multitask. We should have been at the stockade with Evelyn in hand by now. The numbers of rats had been a surprise, and we were falling further and further behind.
We ran up the stairs to the stockade level. Mina checked the hallway and said, “Clear.”
“Jolene,” I said. “Are there cameras in the bakery?”
“The lights are off, and the cameras there are not multi-spectrum. The lights will turn on when Spy opens the door.”
“Shields, helmets, faceplates, and suit hardening,” I ordered. “Combat mode.” With my left hand, I activated my armor. “Jolene, update.”
“Cameras on replay loop with video collected for the last hour,” Jolene said, “and Warhammer’s security is currently occupied killing thousands of rats. Spy is positioned to create the diversion. I am inside the security node for this level and Evelyn Raymond’s cell door is ready to open.”
“Spy,” I said. “Open the door.”
One by one, we exited into the corridor and approached the stockade passage to the right.
“Two humans approaching from the corridor ahead of you.”
“Camilla. With me. We’ve got it,” Jagger said. “You three get Evelyn.”
On the faceplate screen, I saw the bakery door swing open, the light coming on inside. “Go,” I said. We scuttled forward.
On my screen and in my mind, eyes met Spy’s. Dozens and dozens of beady black eyes. Fear shot through Spy, lifting her hair on end. She turned and ran.
The bakery door started to swing closed. But there were too many rats racing through. The crush of their bodies held the door open. I saw ten-kilo rats the size of dogs pour across the floor.
The two guards shouted and began to fire.
Shock and fear bled through Spy’s connection. Her mind sharpened and focused. She darted the way she had run on the recce. Only to be met by more rats. She whipped her body around. Faced the rats behind her. She was trapped.
“Guards,” I said. “Now.”
Mina took down the two guards. Gunfire echoing. The guards falling. Attracting the attention of the rats behind Spy. They bounded into the passageway and leaped onto the warm, bleeding flesh. Spy sped five long steps and leaped high. Continuing the run up the wall at an angle, her speed and momentum carrying her halfway up and past the fallen guards.
Evelyn’s cell door opened. Spy raced inside. Rats chased her.
“Shut the bakery door,” I ordered my team.
Mina and Jacopo advanced into the corridor, firing, wading through rats to close the door.
Maul darted between my feet and into the cell with his mate. Spy sent out a burst of Save! Fast!
I ran toward her location. Caught a glimpse of cats in the cell, fighting with two rats, a human behind them, sitting unmoving on a small high bunk.
“Jump!” I shouted.
The cats leaped to the top bunk beside the woman.
I jumped inside and landed where they had stood. Kicked the rats back through the door. Fired at the marauding rats in the hallway. And kept firing when some turned toward me. They charged, teeth bared, tails whipping. Until a second later, their innards boiled. Using short bursts, I swept left and right, my weapon aimed down to avoid hitting anyone outside the cell. Only three mutated rats got past me. Spy and Maul attacked them. Screeching.
In the hallway, my team killed more rats. Burning them. The stench filled the hallway as dozens died. More rats crowded into the cell. I boiled them, but I couldn’t take care of Evelyn and also shoot rats. The cats were hissing, fighting, yowling, killing the rats that got past me.
All at once, the rats turned to me. They seemed to understand that I was the leader of their killers. In lockstep, they charged.
Camilla leaped over the pile of dead rats and charging rats into Evelyn’s cell and behind me. Jacopo and Mina chose firing angles and blasted away, their killing arcs slowly but effectively cooking rat meat. Camilla and I blasted from inside the cell. The cats jumped back onto the bunk.
“I’ve got the woman,” Camilla said.
She lifted Evelyn into a fireman’s carry, keeping one hand free to fire her weapon. I shifted my attention to the cats long enough to make sure they were still ambulatory and not bleeding to death. Then I took a place in the cell doorway and helped boil a path through the rats in the corridor. Jagger appeared at the juncture of the hallway and the cell corridor and picked off rats who made it past Jacopo and Mina.
It was a long, vicious, but one-sided fight. We proved that even mutated rat teeth couldn’t bite through armor, though they tried.
When the last rat was cooked dead, nothing moved in the hallway. Rats were piled well over half a meter high. There must have been a thousand of them. Camilla emerged from the cell with Evelyn over her shoulders. Evelyn was emaciated, a corpse-pale body. Limp as a rag doll. No one had needed to shout the code word “Mateo” to gain her cooperation.
Breathing hard, trying not to react to the stench of cooked rats, I said, “Jolene. Team Alpha reporting. Rats down. Objective One secured.”
“Condition?” Mateo demanded.
“Alive,” Camilla said. “For now.”
Jolene said, “Area clear. Security system in the corridor is down, but I can’t leave it down for long.”
I switched my mic to the general channel and stated, “Team Alpha has acquired Objective One. Report.”
“Team Beta reporting,” a woman said. “Wingding here. Hospital wing is locked down. Eight medical assistants, one doctor, and three patients are secure. Have left a small team, designation Beta One, in place to cover them. Team Beta Two is proceeding to the food supplies on this level. Have ended four humans. Am alert to the number of rat droppings. Over.”
“Team Gamma, reporting. Have entered and secured the vehicle storage and maintenance area and are moving toward the armory.” Before his mic muted, gunfire sounded in the distance. Screams sounded closer. “Team Gamma taking heavy fire. Heavy fire! Require assistance. One man down!”
“Team Beta Two, are you in position to back up Team Gamma?” I asked.
“Team Beta Two redirecting. Three reinforcements to Team Gamma. We will be approaching at the enemy’s six.”
More gunfire sounded. More screams.
“Jolene, did the opposition get word to their security center?”
“Negative. At the first shot, I shut off their comms.”
Through the mental connection that Spy had with her clowder, I saw another made-man, this one a woman, fall. The woman writhed on the floor, her body pulled back by a foot and an arm. Gamma was down two fighters.
The watching cat looked at the enemy.
The enemy firing at us wore . . . uniforms.
Of the US military.
I nudged Spy to pass along a careful study of the enemy’s clothing.
The cat she was in contact with sped away. Leaped. Vertigo hit me hard at the sideways twist in the air. The cat landed, turned, and studied the enemy, now much closer. The uniforms were not current, but war-time issue. Clarisse Warhammer had put together an army of her own and stuck them in uniforms. I figured eventually she’d just take over the real military from the inside and the make-do uniforms would be unnecessary.
“All teams,” I said. “Enemy combatants are wearing US military uniforms from wartime, all branches. Shoot to kill. Repeat. Do not hesitate to shoot to kill.”
“Team Delta reporting. Have secured the hallway at the entrance to the energy-source room. Instruments indicate no humans have gained access. Door is sealed.”
“Team Delta, maintain position,” I replied. “Backup delayed.”
“Understood. Maintaining position.”
“Team Epsilon reportin’,” a halfway familiar voice said. “We done secured both ends of the hallway in front of the entrance to the Admin Suite. Awaiting Commander Li’l Girl.”
“Bengal?” I asked. “That you leading Team Epsilon?”
“Affirmative, Li’l Girl. Bengal of Team Epsilon reportin’ in. You think a coonass member of the Cajun Navy gonna let his number one have all dis fun? Hell, I been shootin’ nutria since I a little boy. These military rats is like shooting rats in a barrel and is all de bes’ fun I done had in years.”
“Confirm,” I said. “Rats at your twenty?”
“Only a few hundred. We got it under control. Hey, Puta-Bella. You gots a few at your two o’clock. Fire, damn it. Epsilon out.”
Puta-Bella? I shook my head. “Copy that, Epsilon,” I said.
“Team Gamma. This is Team Beta Two,” Wingding said. “Retreat out of firing range. Beta Two is approaching the enemy combatants from the rear.” She paused. “Holy shit. The cats with us just jumped on the enemy. Cats at their heads. Aim low. Aim low. Fire. Fire.” A massive barrage of weapons fire sounded, then the odd screaming of the blaster-hit dying. “Commander. Encom down. All eliminated. Permission to assist getting all of our injured to the medical department.”
“Make it fast, Wingding,” I said, returning my attention to the schematics as we made our way out of the stockade. “Once you have the wounded to the medical ward, assist as backup to secure the entrance to the energy room.”
“Team Beta Two, roger that.”
“Mina and Camilla. Get Objective One to the air shaft.”
“I’m not leaving,” Mina said. “I’m staying with the action.”
Faster than human, I initiated antirecoil on my suit’s nondominant side and whipped to her voice. Picked her up. Threw her across the hallway with my left arm. She crashed into the wall. Her armor went into auto-antirecoil the instant before she hit. Mina had good reflexes. Not as good as mine. But good for a human.
“I repeat. Mina and Camilla. You will obey orders. Get Objective One to the exfil site at the air shaft. Camilla, you will then assist getting Evelyn to safety up the shaft and to the battle tank. Strip her and yourself, then wash her and yourself and your gear. Then re-armor and find me. I’ll send a cat to show you the way, if needed. Jolene, open a channel between Mina, me, and you.”
“Channel open, Commander Sugah.”
I focused on the girl climbing to her feet. “Mina.”
Real emotion showed on her face. Embarrassment. Fury.
“You will follow orders, or I will deactivate your suit and you will spend the rest of the battle locked up and unable to move.”
Another batch of emotion washed across her face, slower, easier to read. Shock, understanding, recalculation, and retribution. She made sure I saw it all.
