Jonathan Bond - The Terminus experiment

Without even waiting to see if she’d hit, Rachel switched her aim to the LD-120, which was sighted at the vampires below her, and fired.

With a small popping sound compared to the Manhunter’s roar, the bullet from the smaller gun ripped into the vampire’s head, spraying bone and blood on the two vampires behind.

Sinunu put her back to the wall beside the other girl. Without taking her eyes from her task, Rachel said, “Head shots are about the only thing that seems to slow them down. Anything less, and they just keep coming.”

“Sin,” came Sandman’s voice on the tacticom. “Get past the guys on top. If you can, you got a pretty clear shot to the surface”

“Six clear!” Flak shouted through the doorway. “Activity on twelve” said Sinunu, as she and Rachel simultaneously fired, Sinunu at the top vamps, Rachel at the bottom. Rachel was using both pistols at the same time now.

Then de Vries was there, standing in the doorway to Sinunu’s right. Striding forward, like some evil god, he laughed. “My brothers, you have been deceived. Let these two pass. They are nothing to you. The one who deserves your hatred is the man who created you. Turn your hunger on him.”

Sinunu knew he was trying some kind of spell, and for a moment she thought it might work. The vampires hesitated, hissing, their dead eyes filled with something that Sinunu could only read as fear and respect.

Then the lead vampire snarled and leapt at de Vries with a howl. The vamp never even came close. De Vries made a casual pass with one hand, and it was like invisible blades slashing through the air, slicing into the approaching vampire’s flesh, cutting through bone. The vampire quickly came apart in a cloud of black blood and tissue.

De Vries turned to Sinunu, and with a small smile said, “Well, it was worth a try, and it should have worked. These vampires are being controlled somehow.”

With that move, the rest of the vampires attacked in force. Suddenly, the high whine of the Vindicator rolled through the narrow stairwell as Flak joined the fray. Deafening thunder shattered the quiet.

Pieces of vampire flesh flew everywhere, splattering the walls and stairs. The Vindicator tore them to pieces. As a group, the runners moved up the stairway, Truxa and Sinunu taking the lead.

“Bad news,” came Sandman’s voice over the tacticom. “Your boys have managed a flanking maneuver somehow.” He sounded concerned. “They’re waiting for you just at the top of the next landing.”

“Beautiful,” muttered Truxa, then turned to look up at Sinunu. “You tag them, I’ll bag them.”

Julius felt the Mobmaster’s rigger rev the big engine, cranking up its speed to ram the oncoming barrier.

“Brace for impact” yelled Julius.

The Mobmaster hit the reinforced steel gate of the Hell’s Kitchen compound and ripped it off its hinges. Rolling over the tire shredders that popped up, the Mobmaster’s runflat tires took no notice.

The huge vehicle rocked gently as explosions shattered stone formations to the left and the right, raining deadly shrapnel against the unyielding sides of the truck.

“Our deckers report land mines coming active!” yelled Biggs. “This ride’s about to get bumpy.”

Julius looked out the window at the distinctive shapes of miniguns along the fence line. He turned to Biggs. “Why aren’t they using the miniguns?”

Biggs shook his head for a moment, then looked up. “Decker says they’ve been taken off line. He doesn’t know why but he can’t get to them. He’s been locked out.”

Julius nodded. He’d have preferred to be able to use miniguns for his own ends, but as long as the bad guys couldn’t use them either, he’d take what he could get. He looked over his shoulder at the men standing behind him, hanging on to the support eyelets.

“Gun rigger, fire at will,” Biggs said, rapping out orders over the tacticom, sending them directly to each soldier’s helmet. “Mages, establish astral recon. Prepare spirits for combat. Infantry, we disembark in three.”

The Mobmaster rocked more violently as the rigger accelerated, rolling over as many land mines as he could. The Mobmaster could withstand damage that would have disabled, if not destroyed, the lighter trucks following. Explosion after explosion lit up the night, and for the first time, Julius got a good look at what they were up against.

“Holy mother of God” Julius breathed.

From behind him, he heard the gun rigger yell. “What in the hell are those things?”

Julius continued to look out the window, but said loudly. “Keep it steady. They’re just heavily modified troops. Keep a rock on back there.”

The gun rigger yelled his affirmative, sounding a bit calmer. These men had seen heavy mods on troops before, and even though the things coming toward them were so far beyond the pale they were into the black, Julius knew his men would adjust.

“Recon, give me a count!” Biggs shouted.

From inside his headset, Julius heard the rigger piloting the recon drone say, “Thirty, at least, not counting the animals. I’d say we’re running against fifty targets.”

Sounds of gunfire filled the air as the gunners at the Mobmaster’s.50 caliber guns and autocannons let go. Julius watched as the closest figure exploded, the big rounds cutting it in half and sending the two separate sections sprawling away from each other.

The Mobmaster slowed a bit as it rounded the first curve, and that was all it took.

A scream from the top gunner was the first sign that the monstrous things had managed to swarm up the back of the truck.

Julius turned to the back just in time to see a metal hand, more a collection of curved razors than a hand, slice through the Mobmaster’s armor.

“Down!” Julius shouted, lifting his chopped Remington twelve-gauge. He sighted at the metal hand’s wrist joint, and pulled the trigger.

The roar in the cabin was deafening, but the weapon’s solid-core slug took the hand off at the wrist, then flattened itself against the Mobmaster’s armored wall. The hand skittered across the floor, bouncing against one of the men’s feet. With a look of disgust, the man kicked the still twitching thing away from him.

“You all right, Charlie?” asked Riggs.

“I’m fine,” the top gunner shouted, “but you got about six stowaways weighing you down.”

Biggs]ooked at Julius, who said, “Fry them.”

“Everybody clear!” yelled Biggs, just before he stroked the small icon on the Mobmaster’s touchscreen console.

There was a crackle, and the Mobmaster’s power cut out for a moment, as ten thousand volts rippled through the vehicle’s conductive shielding.

Screams from the rear of the vehicle spoke of the shock’s effectiveness.

They made the next curve in the road, and the rigger hit the accelerator again, bringing the huge truck up to ramming speed.

Directly in front of the Mobmaster, another massive, wrought iron gate loomed five meters off the ground. Reinforced with concrete and steel girders, it looked forbidding and impenetrable.

“Trucks two through five, report,” said Julius.

“Two, rolling.”

“Three, rolling.”