Fireteam Delta Page 32

  “So, this was a total loss, then?” Summers asked.

  “She was one of ours,” Nowak corrected. “We had to try. You know that.”

  “Yeah . . .” Summers agreed. “Nothing left but to keep going?”

  Nowak nodded, still thinking.

  “I’ve managed to secure mounts enough for us and your . . . luggage,” Synel explained. “We’ll be able to leave the town in the morning.”

  “You two think you can take guard?” Nowak motioned to Pat and Orvar. They nodded in turn.

  “And you’re sure you don’t want to tell us your name?” Cortez prodded the bound soldier. Predictably, she said nothing. “Fuck it, I tried.” Cortez moved off, looking more annoyed than anything.

  Summers sighed, still watching the woman. He’d hoped they’d be able to do something for her, or at least learn something.

  As he stood, he saw one of the restrained, spider-like limbs twitch. Summers eyed the woman, suspicious. But she didn’t so much as look at him.

  Summers turned, moving back toward the small bedroom at the back of the house.

  At least they’d get a quiet night before they dove into whatever the hell was waiting for them next.

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  Asle found it difficult to sleep that night.

  There was noise outside—a party of some sort, she thought. Yells would break the silence every so often, just enough to keep Asle awake. Sighing, she quietly moved the covers off of her. Synel still slept quietly a few feet away, seemingly clueless to the girl’s movements.

  Slowly, she moved to the door, and into the hallway outside. Only a few were awake at this time of night, but that was exactly what she needed.

  Asle had been up all night thinking. She had no intention of letting the soldier go. The others knew that she was too dangerous to be let free, but at the same time, they didn’t have it in them to kill the woman in cold blood.

  She understood that. They were strangers to her world. They had no idea what life as a slave was like.

  Asle wouldn’t wish that fate on her worst enemy.

  And so, with sleep eluding her, and nothing better to do, she crept through the hall, toward the living space that held the woman. Pat and Orvar should still be on guard. It wouldn’t take much to sway them to her side.

  Death was a preferable alternative to the life of a slave, especially for a woman. They knew that, and she’d hoped they would help her sway the others. Asle was confident the woman herself would have agreed, if she was still able to think.

  Even Summers had told them as much, when he’d pulled the monster from his head. He would have rather died than lived as something else.

  Then, as Asle reached the end of the hall, she heard a scream. It was distant, but it was almost definitely one of terror. She turned her head toward the noise just as another erupted, closer this time.

  Asle hurried her pace toward the room, sensing that something was wrong. When she got there, she froze.

  Pat and Orvar lay unconscious, slumped against a wall. The soldier sat still in the seat at the end of the room.

  Her body had opened up, split down the middle. And the black, almost liquid form of the hamr oozed from the opening.

  It stopped in kind as Asle entered, a small tendril wrapped around Orvar’s leg.

  Asle was sure that wasn’t good.

  The tendril suddenly shifted, lunging for her. Asle fell to the side, more in fear than anything, as the creature sailed over her. She crawled, scrabbling for the sidearm at Pat’s hip.

  Just as the creature would have enveloped her, she managed to fire off a single shot into the woman’s head.

  Then, everything went dark.

  Chapter 37: Turning Point

  “Stay here.”

  Asle’s mother spoke in a low voice, closing the hatch to their crawlspace, leaving Asle in darkness. Something like thunderclaps echoed in the distance, shaking the walls around her. Asle hugged her knees, doing her best to stay quiet.

  Her father had started gathering the few from their village who knew how to use a spear, some only as old as she was. She could hear him yelling for groups to form ranks. They’d thought it was just another of the beasts that roamed the old wood, something they could frighten off. It was only now that Asle realized how bad things were.

  More noise reverberated, closer this time, even as her father’s shouting grew further away.

  She didn’t say a word. Asle barely dared to breathe as the sound of fighting, then screaming, echoed in her small home.

  Then, suddenly, a sound like wood snapping reached her. It echoed, intensifying into a terrible crescendo. The ground rocked, throwing Asle to the side with almost impossible force. She curled herself into a ball, trying to muffle her cries as the house above her seemed to tear itself apart.

  It stopped as quickly as it had come, and Asle was left in absolute, terrifying silence.

  She waited there, beneath the floor, for what felt like hours.

  Eventually, night fell, but still she didn’t move. Her parents had told her to stay hidden until they came for her. But even as the morning light leaked in from the floorboards, she heard nothing, saw no one.

  So much time passed like that, with Asle straining to stay quiet.

  It was only on the third day, as the hunger gnawed at her mind, that she heard something: footsteps.

  “Mom? Dad!”

  The footsteps stopped. Strange voices began calling to one another, coming closer.

  Slowly, the hatch to Asle’s hiding spot opened, letting in the morning light.

  Asle found a man standing over her, holding something pointed at her chest for a few seconds before he lowered it, shouting out to the others.

  There were dozens dressed in the same strange attire.

  Before Asle could react, a woman grabbed her arm.

  “What are you doing?” Asle tried to pull away, but the woman wrapped a second hand around her waist. “Let me go! Where are my parents?”

  Asle struggled against her grip, clawing at the woman’s arm, but she didn’t relent. Another hand grabbed her, pushing her roughly into the ground.

  “Let me go!”

  Asle’s eyes fell on what remained of her village. There was nothing left. Just a few haphazard piles of wood and stone. There weren’t even any dead to be seen.

  As the strange voices around her continued to speak, Asle closed her eyes.

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  “Asle, stay with me!”

  Asle stirred at a new voice beside her. She tried to open her eyes, but nothing happened.

  “Get it off her!”

  Another voice . . . it sounded so distant somehow.

  Asle realized she couldn’t breathe. Instinctively, she tried to move her arms, but they wouldn’t respond.

  And she was just so hungry.

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  “Stay with me, Asle!” Summers kneeled over the girl, tearing at the black, semi-solid tendrils wrapped around her body.

  It had only been a few seconds since the entire house was woken by the gunshot; he had to hope she was still okay.

  Cortez was behind him, checking Orvar’s pulse, the man lying prone in the corner of the room beside Pat and Nowak.

  Summers tore at the base of the tendril, sending their former slave’s body sprawling. The woman looked as though she’d disassembled herself, a ladder of the spider-like limbs had fused together to create a long, freakish arm that stretched across the room.

  It was limp, but the end had somehow coiled around Asle’s throat.

  Summers ripped it apart with hardly any effort at all. Almost immediately, Asle’s eyes shot open, and she started to gasp for breath. Summers only just noticed that her eyes were blood-red, staring straight up at the ceiling.

  “Shit.”

  He watched in mounting horror as Asle’s body tensed, and spots of black began to appear in her eyes, slowly expanding outward.


  “Shit, shit, shit!”

  Summers placed a hand on Asle’s head, closing his eyes.

  “What the hell?” Cortez stared down at Asle’s eyes.

  “It’s like the fog,” Summers explained. “This thing’s in her head. I need to get it out.”

  Summers saw Synel move in from the hall, looking more than a little worried at the scene around him.

  Orvar was just waking up; he must have only been knocked out, because he looked completely normal. The small trickle of blood that ran down his cheek to his neck supported that.

  Summers returned his focus to Asle, trying to concentrate. Looking at her neck, he saw a few cuts from where he’d torn off the black tendril. He put his palm beneath Asle’s chin.

  Summers could sense sinuous strands of bright light gathered around her throat. He willed them closer, just as he had when he’d experimented with his own body. Asle tensed again, but after a few seconds, Summers managed to grasp the smallest strand of inky black fibers. He pulled.

  What came out was a tumor the size of his finger. He tossed the dark mass to the far side of the room. Asle was still motionless, but he could see that she was breathing. Her eyes still held a tinge of red, but they were open.

  “Asle, can you hear me?” Summers leaned over the girl.

  He saw one of her hands slowly lift, balling into a fist. It moved slowly toward his face before it made contact.

  She was trying to hit him! It was one of the lightest, weakest punches he’d ever felt, but he was sure she wasn’t joking around.

  He had to assume she was still a little crazy, just like he’d been. At best, he’d only slowed down whatever reaction the hamr had caused.

  Summers took a deep breath, trying to think.

  The others were all watching him. Pat was awake now, too, holding his head in pain. Summers glanced back at the long tendril that led to their former slave. However she’d managed to string the spider-like limbs together, it looked like the soldier herself had been torn apart in the process.

  Nowak stood beside Pat, one hand on the man’s shoulder to steady him.

  “What the hell happened here?”

  “This is my fault . . .” Pat started, looking at Asle. “If I’d been—”

  A gunshot rang out in the distance.

  Followed very quickly by another.

  “Guys . . .” Cortez had moved to the window, looking outside. “I don’t think our girl was the only one who made a move . . .”

  Summers started toward the window. Outside, he could hear the screams of townspeople, the sounds of fighting.

  That was decidedly not good.

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  The gunfire intensified, nearly drowning out the sound of men and women screaming.

  “That’s got to be the twins,” Nowak announced. They moved as quickly as they could through the alleys of the town. “It’s coming from the direction of the warehouse.”

  “Think they can hold out?” Cortez looked at Nowak with worry.

  “So long as all they have to deal with is people,” Summers answered. “If we have to go against something like what we saw in the city—the real version of these things—then we’re fucked.”

  “I had mounts waiting for us with your things,” Synel yelled from the back. “I suggest we get out of this town quickly.”

  An elven man with red eyes shot out from behind one of the buildings, rushing directly toward Summers. Nowak put him down in the next instant with three shots to the chest and one to the head.

  Their group didn’t even break stride.

  “I’m with her,” Cortez replied. She hopped over the dead man in one fluid motion. “We can’t kill the entire town, and chances are more of them are gonna go like . . .” Cortez looked at Asle a moment before she trailed off.

  Synel moved quickly. She had Asle in her arms, short lengths of chain they’d salvaged from what remained of the slave woman wrapped around her hands. The girl was trying to claw at Synel’s face, but the movements were so weak that they were all more worried about the girl hurting herself than her desperate attempts to murder them.

  After another minute, they arrived at the warehouse they’d rented. The twins saw them almost immediately, waving. A group of six lay dead a dozen feet away from the front door of the building. Despite their haggard appearance, the two weren’t any worse for wear.

  “Okay then.” Nowak waved back to the two men. Despite their placid expressions, they almost looked proud.

  Summers could hear panicked, animalistic noises from inside the warehouses—coming from what he assumed was supposed to be their mounts, likely frightened by the fighting outside.

  “Synel, think you can take care of the—whatever the hell it is we’re supposed to be riding?” Nowak gestured to the woman.

  She nodded, handing Asle over to Cortez as she moved toward the building. The sounds of fighting in the distance were getting louder.

  The area around them was mostly deserted, but if the dead at their feet were any indication of what was happening in the rest of the town, the faster they left, the better off they’d be.

  “Summers, don’t suppose you have any idea what in the fuck is happening here?” Nowak turned back to Summers.

  “I don’t know.” Summers watched as Asle tried to bite at Nowak. He kept her at arm’s length. “It’s got to be the bodies they were hanging. Maybe they were playing—”

  Before Summers could finish, one of the bodies Cortez was passing lurched forward, grabbing for the woman. Orvar reacted in an instant, firing a single burst into the formally dead man’s head.

  “Possum . . .” Summers finished.

  “Thanks.” Cortez’s gaze lingered on Orvar for just a moment before she turned back to the warehouse.

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  Summers sat atop one of the same long-haired horses they’d seen in the war. It marched merrily along while both he and the others tried their best to stay on top.

  Cortez was a surprise; both she and Synel seemed to stay atop the mounts with little effort, though Synel was busy struggling to keep Asle calm as they rode beside him.

  Their pace was quick, punctuated only by the sounds of fighting. The noise faded into the distance as they rode through the streets, and after only a few minutes, they were nearly at the front gate.

  Summers looked up to one of the soldiers hung from a nearby tree—most of him, save his torso, was gone. He had to assume he’d done something like the woman who attacked Asle, but that didn’t make it any less disturbing to see.

  Still, as he looked on, something caught his attention. The man’s back.

  “Oh fuck, guys—”

  Summers was interrupted by a yell from his side. He only had a second to register the feeling of a man slamming into him. Summers was thrown from his horse and onto the cobblestone street. He rolled a few feet before coming to a stop, gun held at the ready.

  But before Summers could fire a shot, his attacker’s head exploded into a fine mist.

  “All right.”

  Nowak walked over, looking concerned.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Summers got to his feet, checking himself over. The fall hadn’t hurt him, but as he stood, he saw two more red-eyed men heading his way. To his surprise, they bypassed his friends, heading instead directly toward him.

  Summers leveled his gun, firing a burst into each of their chests.

  Though, even as they dropped, they kept crawling toward him, almost desperately. The others saw what was happening and gave him an equally confused look. He was starting to feel a little singled out.

  Cortez fired two shots into the downed men’s heads, dropping them for good.

  “Hurry up and get back here!” Nowak called over.

  “Two seconds.”

  Summers raised a gun to the still hanging soldier and fired. The body dropped into the street with a wet thud.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”
Cortez pulled on the reins of her horse, angling it toward Summers.

  “Take a look at him,” Summers replied.

  As he approached the corpse, Summers flipped the body over, exposing the small radio still attached to the man’s back.

  “Oh . . . shit . . .”

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  The group had put serious distance between themselves and the town by the next morning. They worked now in a small alcove beneath a cliff’s edge, making camp.

  Asle sat beside Summers, her eyes staring directly ahead. She’d long ago calmed down, or at least stopped trying to kill them. That didn’t mean she was back to normal, however.

  “You, uh . . . good?” Summers looked to the girl. She nodded.

  He waited with her for another minute, watching her. She didn’t blink, didn’t do much of anything, actually. Synel had made sure to feed her, but even that was more . . . mechanical than it should have been.

  “I’m tired,” Asle responded.

  After a moment, Summers put a hand on Asle’s head.

  “Yeah, I get it. So am I.”

  The girl said nothing, but the tension in her shoulders seemed to disappear.

  A few feet away, Nowak tinkered with the radio he’d found. It was something more modern than they were used to. They wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone, not unless they were only a few miles away. But if the base in Nevada had set up a tower, then they’d at least be able to get a signal from it. After some muttered cursing, Summers heard the telltale sound of static.

  “Got it!” Nowak called over.

  Summers got to his feet, watching as Cortez moved to Nowak’s side. As he worked, the static resolved into a human voice.

  “—for a full retreat from the operational zone. I repeat, all activity in the operational zone has been recalled. We are under heavy attack. Under the authority of General Thompson, we have called for a full retreat from the operational zone. I repeat . . .”

  The message continued to loop.

  “That’s an automated message . . .” Cortez spoke low.

  “We already knew shit was hitting the fan here. Just means we need to hurry. Faster we get there, faster we can get home.” Nowak glanced back toward Asle, then Summers. “And maybe get some help.”