Adam Baker - Juggernaut

‘Sweet job.’

Lucy slammed the hood, and climbed in the cab. Huang let her take the wheel.

‘And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we do that.’

The truck was sunk in sand. Amanda and Huang chocked the wheels with trunk lids from nearby sedans.

‘Okay. Let’s get her rolling.’

Lucy revved the engine. She pumped the throttle, tried to rock the truck clear of deep ruts. The wheels span. Shredded tyre rubber whipped and tore.

Huang hung out the window and checked progress. He shouted encouragement.

‘That’s it. Keep going. Almost there.’

‘Feels like I’m digging deeper.’

‘Just keep going. An inch more, and you’ve got it.’

Huang jumped from the cab. He joined Amanda and Toon at the back of the truck. They pushed. They sweated. They strained. The armoured truck lurched free. They caught a faceful of grit.

A deep groan as the plated underside of the truck ground rock.

Lucy’s voice over the radio:

‘ How’s it looking? ’

‘You’re doing okay.’

The truck pulled out of the convoy. It nudged the wreck of a Nissan aside. It lurched towards the citadel gate towers at a walking pace. Half a mile of lunar terrain. The engine laboured and revved. Toon and Amanda kicked rocks out the vehicle’s path.

Huang turned back towards the convoy. His body armour and assault rifle were draped over the hood of an Impala.

A body sat in the driver’s seat. A charred skeleton, fingers welded to wheel plastic. No hair. Empty sockets. Lips burnt away, giving the corpse a mirthless smile.

Huang turned his back on the carbonised corpse. He reclipped his belt. He clipped the holster strap round his thigh.

Behind him, the driver of the sedan began to move. The eyeless, grinning head slowly turned. Crisped skin cracked and flaked. Charred, skeletal hands flexed and tore from the steering wheel. The creature began to haul itself from the vehicle.

Huang rebuckled his armour. The rustle and rip of Velcro straps masked the grit-crunch of skeletal feet dragging through sand.

He slung his rifle. He unscrewed the cap of his canteen and prepared to swig.

Skittering stones. He swung round.

A tumorous figure, the colour of rot and dust. Something that used to be a man. Knotted metallic tendrils woven through flesh.

‘Holy fucking Christ.’

The creature tensed, as if reacting to the sound of his voice. It lunged. Huang dropped his canteen, raised his rifle and fired full auto. The cadaverous figure was lifted from its feet, belly ripped open. The impact of high-velocity rounds threw it across a Cadillac hood. It fell in the dirt and lay still.

Huang crouched over the dead thing. Smoking gut wounds. A skeletal face, empty sockets, tight skin pulled back across the bones.

Lucy’s voice:

‘ What’s going on? Who’s shooting? ’

He hit the pressel switch on his webbing.

‘Better get back here, boss. Something you need to see.’

The creature jerked to life. Rotted fingers seized Huang’s shoulder. The broken creature gripped the collar of his body armour, dragged him down and sank teeth into his neck. Skin tore, blood bubbled and dripped. Huang screamed and tried to pull himself free.

He drew his Glock, pressed the weapon to the creature’s stomach and pumped the trigger. Smoke. Muzzle flame. He emptied a full clip. The desiccated figure convulsed as bullets tore through its torso.

Huang tossed the gun. He pushed the creature to arm’s length with his left hand. He unhooked a frag grenade with his right. He twisted the pin loose with his teeth. The safety lever flipped.

He punched the creature in the gut, driving the grenade wrist-deep into its belly. He heaved the rotted figure away with his feet, and rolled clear.

The creature staggered upright, flap of glistening muscle clenched between its teeth. Stretched out arms, like it was trying to find Huang by touch.

Huang covered his head.

Detonation.

He lay, curled foetal, pelted with grit, stones, and scraps of burning flesh.

Huang sat in the rear doorway of an armoured personnel carrier. He leant against the doorframe and rested his head against metal. He held a rag to his neck to staunch the flow of blood.

Lucy, Toon and Amanda crouched in front of him.

‘Give yourself a morphine shot,’ said Toon.

‘No.’

‘You’re fucked up.’

‘Let me rest a while.’

Amanda washed his neck with canteen water and dressed the wound.

‘Sure you don’t want a shot?’

‘I’m okay.’

‘How does it look?’ asked Lucy, out of earshot.

‘Deep,’ said Amanda. ‘He’s lost a lot of blood.’

Lucy walked between cars. Smoking fragments of flesh scattered in the dust.

She hooked blood-caked dog tags with the muzzle of her rifle. She examined them with gloved fingers.

‘What have you got?’ asked Amanda.

‘Republican Guard.’

‘Guess Jabril was wrong. Some of them made it.’

Lucy nudged a withered arm with her boot.

‘Burnt. Mummified. This guy has been dead for weeks.’

‘Huang says different.’

Lucy unsheathed the T-shaped push-knife she kept strapped to her webbing. She prodded the severed arm with the blade.

‘Looks like something’s embedded in his flesh.’

‘Like what?’

‘Wires. Tendrils. Fine thread knitted through muscle.’

‘Shrapnel?’

‘No. Something else.’

‘Sooner we get out of here, the better.’

‘Yeah,’ murmured Lucy, sheathing her knife. ‘I think you’re right.’

The armoured truck was parked in the main courtyard of the citadel. Jabril circled the vehicle, inspecting bullet damage. He saw Lucy approach.

‘These rear doors are your biggest challenge. The steel is three inches thick.’

Lucy grabbed the collar of his body armour and slammed him against the side of the truck. The impact shook free his prosthetic hook. It clattered on flagstones.

He tried to fend her off with his hand and stump.

‘We just got jumped. Huang. Someone, something, just tried to rip out his throat.’

‘Is he hurt? Is he bitten?’

Lucy shook Jabril. She knocked his head against the armoured hull of the truck.

‘What happened out here, Jabril? What really went down?’

‘You mustn’t touch Huang. None of you. Tell your men. They must wear gloves each time they go near him.’

‘Tell me. What happened here? The guy back there in the convoy. He looked like he had been dead for months. There’s no way he should be running around.’

‘You knew this place was poisoned. You all knew the risk in coming here.’

Lucy shook him.

‘There was something in his skin. Wires, cables. Did he do that to himself?’

‘No.’

‘How many more of your buddies are wandering around?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Talk to me. What the fuck is going on?’

‘I can’t tell you.’

Lucy slapped his face.

‘I promised you gold,’ he said. ‘There is gold in the truck. Just take it and leave.’

Lucy’s crew crossed the courtyard. Huang supported by Amanda and Toon. He struggled to walk. He was pale and sweating.

‘How’s it going, boss?’ asked Toon.

Lucy shook Jabril one last time.

‘If we get hit by any more surprises I will seriously fuck you up.’ She released her grip on Jabril’s body armour. She turned to Toon. ‘I’m going to get the truck under cover. Mandy: with me.’

Toon helped Huang across the courtyard and sat him in shade.

Jabril wedged the prosthetic hook back onto his wrist stump. He crossed the courtyard and sat on rubble beside Huang. He looked at the bloody dressing taped to the man’s neck.