The Last Bastion of the Living

The Last Bastion of the Living Page 39

Gradually, Maria was piecing together the truth about the Scourge. When in an overexcited state, any activity that could be associated with humans was enough to provoke them to attack. The squad had been speaking in very low voices to avoid activating the Scourge into hunting mode. The undead in torpor didn’t even register the squad’s presence. Maria strongly suspected that those attacking the carrier wouldn’t respond in the same manner. She was certain they would attack anything they suspected was human. Hearing a human voice would draw the attention of the rampaging creatures, but not those in torpor.

Her bolt weapon discharged and an old man crumpled to her feet. Stepping over him, Maria pressed the end of her weapon against the base of the skull of an adolescent boy and fired. The boy fell and she moved on to a middle-aged woman. All around her Scourge fell to the ground in final death. They didn’t fight back. They didn’t run. They just died. For so long the Scourge had been the monsters of her nightmares, but seeing them this close, she now also saw them as the sad victims of a devastating virus.

Yet, these were the same creatures that had killed Ryan and her father. Pity and hate struggled within her as she continued the gruesome task.

Eventually, the squad relaxed into their chore. Conversation started. It was stilted at first, but gave way to warm camaraderie. Maria found herself smiling despite their terrible task as the morning wore on. Jameson and McKinney were quite adept at a witty remark or two. Their chatter made the task easier whenever she had to stop and clean her weapon and wipe off her gloves. Holm and Mikado heaped the bodies into piles after doing a cursory search on each Scourge. It was surprising to see that there were actually items to salvage. Old communication devices, a few weapons, jewelry made of stainless steel, copper, silver and gold.

Maria began to note the little things about the Scourge: the diamond earrings in one’s ears, the tie still clipped to one’s shirt, the scissors still clutched in the hand of another.

“Got a nun over here,” Jameson called out. “I’m not going to get in trouble with God if I kill her, right?”

“She’s already dead. God won’t get mad,” McKinney answered.

“We’ll have to bury her,” Cruz said somberly. “Catholics don’t believe in cremation.”

“I’m sure God will overlook it in this case,” McKinney said, his tone a bit dismissive.

“I don’t believe in gods,” Holm grunted, dispatching the nun in question. She hooked the dead woman and dragged her away.

“What if you’re wrong?” Cruz called out after her. “What if God is out there?”

Holm hurled the nun onto the pile. “I’ll be surprised and God can have a chortle over it.”

Maria rolled her eyes, slightly shaking her head.

“I mock no one’s gods.” Omondi trudged past the squad lugging four bodies after him. “Just in case...”

“Sounds like a good policy,” Cormier decided. “Playing it safe.”

“Sometimes playing it safe gets you into the worst of trouble,” Denman answered the young woman with a sardonic smile.

Maria glanced at him curiously. His words had held weight and underlying meaning to them.

“I’d rather play fast and loose and get in trouble that way. Fuck playing it safe.” McKinney high-fived Holm as Cruz rolled her eyes.

The day wore on.

Though they had no need to eat or drink, the squad took a break after a few hours. Omondi walked away to report into the SWD, leaving the squad to their own devices. Most pulled out small pads to play games, watch vids, or read. They weren’t able to communicate with friends or family, so most ignored their wristlets. Maria wished she could call Dwayne, but instead amused herself with a game on her pad. Holm decided to sunbathe and stripped off her heavy armor.

“Can we get tans?” Jameson wondered aloud, watching her disrobe.

Denman cast a look over his shoulder at the nearest Scourge. “I doubt it. They aren’t even sunburned. The virus keeps them in stasis, exactly how they were when they died.”

“I’m going to try,” Holm said, closing her eyes under her sunglasses. She looked very pale against the dry-packed black earth of the valley.

“Shouldn’t you keep your armor on?” Jameson asked.

“You should,” Holm quipped.

Laughter rippled through the group and Jameson made a big show of stripping off his armor to lie next to the tall blond.

Maria watched over the top of her pad, amused, but not concerned. She was toying with the idea of taking off her armor, too. They were far from the Inferi Scourge that were frenzying near the carrier. She wondered if Omondi would make Holm and Jameson put their armor back on when he was done with his report. Returning her gaze to her game, she tried to keep her gnome that was riding a dinosaur alive as it traveled through a medieval setting.

Gutierrez put some music on and turned up the volume on his pad. It was very old rock music from a time when the Scourge didn’t roam the earth. A game of poker started nearby with Cormier shuffling the cards while McKinney inflated a ball so he could play soccer with Mikado. Maria scrunched up her nose as her dinosaur died and left the gnome to fend off a pack of werewolves on its own. Her fingers danced over the screen as she maneuvered her little pink haired creature into an epic battle.

The sound of feet pounding on the hard-packed earth drew her attention from the game. For a moment she thought it was McKinney kicking the ball at Mikado, but a flash of movement drew her eyes toward the wall of Scourge standing a few hundred feet away. A figure exploded out of the densely packed crowd and raced toward them. As she scrambled to her feet, she took in the battered armor and desperate face of the running man. It took her another second to realize it was not one of her own people. He sprang toward Jameson and Holm lying on the ground.

“No!” Maria attempted to tackle the man, but only caught his feet, sending him sprawling.

Chaos enveloped the squad as they rushed in to help rescue Jameson and Holm. The snarls of the man and the screams from the soldiers filled her ears as she struggled to get a grip on the attacker. Holm shouted for help while Jameson cursed at the man clawing at them, attempting to fight him off. Holm managed to roll away, reaching for her weapon. Denman grabbed the man, trying to drag him off Jameson. The attacker kicked and twisted, smashing the bottom of his heavy boots into Maria’s chest and stomach. She registered the impacts, but continued to grapple with the man. She managed to get her knees under her, heaving herself upward, getting a hold of the man’s armor. Hooking both her hands into his collar, she tried to yank him away.

“Fucking shit!” Jameson screamed. “He bit me!”

Denman and Maria tried to heave him off the terrified young man. Spittle and blood flecked the man’s face as he chewed the flesh he had ripped from Jameson’s hand. He continued to fight, but he seemed more intent on devouring the bit of meat. Denman exchanged a startled look with Maria.

The squad tried to pin the attacker to the ground. He was abnormally strong and the bucking of his body knocked a few squad members away. Maria rested her full weight on his chest.

“Who is he?” Cormier screamed.

“What the fuck is he?” Maria gasped.

The attacker swallowed and grinned up at her. “Hungry,” he hissed, and lunged toward her exposed neck.

Holm brought the bolt weapon down on the man’s face. Blood burst from his ruined mouth and nose, spattering Maria and Denman, then Holm slammed the weapon down again, pulverizing his skull. The man finally stopped moving. Gasping, Maria fell back, her gloved hands wiping away the cold blood from her face. Denman sat back on his ankles as the rest of the squad let go of the corpse.

“He fucking bit me!” Jameson screamed. “He fucking tore a fucking chunk of fucking meat off my fucking hand!”

“Jameson, calm down,” Omondi ordered jogging into view. “Denman, take care of him!”

Visibly collecting his wits, Denman got to his feet and hurried to Jameson’s side, pulling his medical pack from his belt.

Maria stared at the ruined face of the man who had attacked them. He had looked alive, not like the Scourge. His eyes had not been milky, his skin had not been gray. And he had spoken. Yet, he had attacked as savagely as any Scourge. Rolling onto her knees, she leaned over the dead man.

Omondi knelt next to her and studied the man’s armor. “Bastion Constabulary issue,” he whispered.

“Yeah, I can see that. But no rank, no squad insignia.” Maria searched the man’s pockets.

“What happened?” Omondi asked.

Maria filled Omondi in as the squad gathered around Jameson and Denman.

“He didn’t look like a Scrag,” Maria finished in a low voice. “And….he spoke.”

“What the hell? Are you sure?”

Maria replayed the scene in her head, then nodded. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“What did he say?” Omondi asked, his brow scrunching above his dark eyes.

“One word: hungry,” Maria answered.

A slight narrowing of his eyes gave Omondi a thoughtful, yet frightening look. Bowing toward her, he whispered, “Tell no one.”