Jonathan Bond - The Terminus experiment

“Four, rolling, but Five is gone. Request permission to back up and locate them.”

“Recon,” said Julius.

“Recon here.”

“Give me status on Citymaster Five.”

There was a pause, then, “It looks like they hit a mine, just inside the perimeter. They’re stalled, and they’ve got six targets converging.”

The gate rushed rapidly toward them as the rigger pushed the Mobmaster to its limit.

Julius spoke again. “Copy, Citymaster Four. Regroup with five and keep our back door open.”

“Brace yourselves,” said Biggs.

They hit the fence, guns blazing, the front scoop of the Mobinaster ripping through the heavy metal like it was paper.

The fence top smashed down onto the roof of the truck, cracking the bulletproof glass. Then it bounced high, describing a long arc up and to the left, where the hinges finally gave away, sending the fence flying off into the night.

Julius caught one glimpse of it, as it sheared off a light pole at the base, plunging the near area into darkness. All around them, the darkness seemed to be moving. Undulating and swaying like a field of tall black grass on a moonless night.

Julius switched his helmet to infrared. The crimson-tinged view was not much clearer, but at least now he could see them. Crowds of creatures, their IR silhouettes dim and twisted, impregnated by cold cyber.

Julius only got a glimpse, but it was enough to send fear down his spine like an icy razor.

“Recon here, Mobmaster One. It looks as if the fifty targets are getting some reinforcements from the compound.”

“Check,” said Julius. “Begin your aerial attack now. Mages, let’s turn up the heat.”

Then the things were on them.

Sandman had been right. They had reached the next landing and all hell had broken loose. The runners had blasted their way through vamp after vamp, until they were almost to the top.

Just then, a huge woman who looked as if her entire body was covered with grease, and who hung by her feet from the railing above, reached down with her massive hands to grasp Rachel by the armpits and pull her upward.

Flak shouted a warning, but a moment too late. Rachel was suddenly lifted off the floor, pain wracking through her rib cage.

She looked up, wondering how this immensely fat woman could possibly be hanging that way. She didn’t have much time to wonder, because the woman opened her mouth in a vicious grin, showing stained fangs. Rachel could smell the vampire’s charnel-house breath and nearly retched.

That mouth came closer and closer, and for a moment, Rachel thought this was it. She was going to die, and she was going to let everybody down.

Rachel, the pistol! Use It!” Sinunu screamed at her.

Suddenly jerked back into focus, Rachel kicked back with her legs, which let her bring up her right arm.

The hot barrel of the Manhunter fit nicely into the vampire’s mouth.

Rachel pulled the trigger twice, then suddenly both she and the fat woman were falling back toward the stairs.

She knew she would be crushed under the woman’s huge weight, and tried to spin, tried to maneuver but it was no use.

Out of nowhere, a giant arm wrapped around her. It was Flak pulling her to his blood-soaked chest. “Gotcha,” he said, as the fat vampire hit the ground with a thud and started to roll down the stairs. De Vries stopped the body with one booted foot, as easily as if he were stopping a rolling ball.

“Nicely done dear,” said de Vries, as he drove his fist deep into the woman’s chest and pulled out her black, ichor-slick heart.

Gunfire sounded from above, and Flak was gone.

Rachel moved as fast as she could around the turn in the stairs and slipped in the dark, vampire blood covering the floor. She would have gone down, except for a strong hand catching her again. She turned, and found herself looking into the cold, dead eyes of Martin de Vries, He had a small, sad smile on his face. “Careful there. The footing is bad and going to get Worse.”

They were on the top landing, and ready to make the assault into the hallway that would lead them to loading dock number four. It was the closest dock to the front entrance, which Sandman reported as under assault by troops who looked like they were military. At the very least, they had equipment that bespoke a bigger budget than anybody but Lone Star could bring to bear.

Nobody knew exactly what was going on, but at the moment the attack came, the resistance to their departure had all but evaporated. Small pockets of vampires, usually just two or three at a time, still plagued them, but they weren’t of the deadly caliber that they’d first encountered. Most of were small and lightly cybered, nor had they encountered any with magical abilities for almost five minutes of climbing.

As Rachel gained the top landing, she looked around at the rest of the runners. Flak stood tall and silent, the Vindicator cradled in his arms like a child. He was breathing easily, despite the blood running from four separate wounds on his arms and chest.

Truxa had done what she could for him, but she’d also been wounded. Her left arm was broken and although she’d healed herself, the bone wasn’t completely mended and the wound hampered her magical ability. She’d been forced to take the fall-back position. Wielding Sinunu’s crossbow, she was in charge of making sure that whatever the rest of the team knocked down stayed down.

Sinunu had pulled up her balaclava hood to reveal a blooded mouth, missing two teeth where a dying vampire had smashed her face-first into the wall, seconds before de Vries had broken the thing’s spine. She was also walking with a limp, favoring her right hip. From the fire in her eyes, though, Rachel guessed Sinunu was riding on a killing wave and didn’t notice any pain.

Rachel found herself smiling. Even though she’d gotten hit couple of times, the bullet that had grazed her thigh had been a ricochet. She put a hand to her left shoulder and felt blood there. Evidently, the fat woman had managed to get her licks in before Rachel had shot the back of her head off. Still, Rachel didn’t feel it either. Her body was humming with intense excitement. Part of her was angry and scared, angry that they hadn’t found Warren, and afraid for what might have been done to him. That was a small part, however. She was alive. Truly alive for the first time in her life, It was as if everything had come down to this, fighting alongside people who trusted you with their lives, and knowing that you would kill or die to not let them down. Dancing that razor’s edge.

She looked around again and a huge swelling of pride filled her. This small team was going up against incredible odds, against some of the darkest creatures the Sixth World had ever seen. They’d been bloodied, but were unbowed. They were hurt, but they were still deadly, and any vampire who crossed their path would find out just how deadly.

The only one who remained uninjured was de Vries. He was a whirlwind of destruction, and seemed to take a perverse glee in killing vampires that had made Rachel queasy the first few times. Now, she understood his reaction. The only time de Vries had seemed sad since the fighting had begun was when he’d been forced to hurl the still unconscious body of the decoy at the vampires approaching from below. And though it had bought their escape, she’d heard him muttering, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”