The slide on the Kimber locked back, a lucky shot striking the reaver’s ovipositor. It made a truly inhuman screeching and thrashed onto its side. A brown tongue flicked out, the females having a different color than the male. Hardigan dropped his empty magazine and clawed for his remaining spare.
Kaufman hadn’t stayed still during this, she’d been caught off guard by the reaver’s appearance, but she’d scampered out of the line of Hardigan’s fire as well as avoiding the creature’s wrath. Kaufman didn’t both to go for her Sig, not trusting the pistol to do more than aggravate the creature.
Realizing quickly that Hardigan’s shots were drawing the thing towards himself, Kaufman struggled to her feet, ignoring the brambles and dirt that clung to her clothes and bag. Struggling to maintain a half run, she hunched her body over and grabbed for Hardigan’s discarded carbine as the reaver stood and began to advance again.
Shouldering it, she fired the carbine into the creature’s head, worked the bolt and fired again, center punching it near where she guessed one of its three hearts would be. Hardigan thumbed the slide release and brought his pistol back up, the partial magazine had five rounds in it, but he held his fire. Kaufman cycled the Remington twice more, sending 140 grain soft point 7mm bullets into each of the creatures remaining two hearts.
Dirty tired, and now bleeding from several scratches she looked down at Hardigan as he struggled to pick himself up from the dirt. Kaufman clicked the safety to the on position, and handed Hardigan the Remington. “This is one hell of a walk in the woods,” she said.
“Welcome to my world,” Hardigan grunted, opening the action on the Remington and refilling the magazine. “Good shooting tex,” he added, panting.
“Hand eye coordination comes with the job,” she said dismissively. She cocked her head, hearing more shots coming from nearby.
“Those are close,” Hardigan said, using the carbine to pull himself to his feet. “Real close, and that sounded like an M16.”
“Maybe someone else got out,” Kaufman said, drawing her pistol.
Both of them saw the flash and flames as smoke billowed up. “Someone with some interesting toys,” Hardigan said drolly. “Ready for this?”
“I was born ready,” Kaufman said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
“Close enough,” Hardigan said. “I’m about out of .45.”
“Throw rocks,” Kaufman said. Hardigan would have thought she was joking if she hadn’t picked up a large chunk of limestone.
“Jehosophat,” Tanner muttered, watching the corpses of the reavers shrivel in the flames. “I owe you a beer Mac.” Tanner hadn’t known quite what to think of the guy on the motorcycle when he first appeared, but now he was pretty sure he liked the guy. His wife was hot too, but if there was one thing Tanner had learned, that was never try your hand with the woman of any one who had access to explosives. His Uncle “Three Fingers” Paulson had taught him that.
“That was some fine homicidal intent,” Dale said, equally thrilled to see things catch on fire. “That was even better than what them fire leprechauns did.”
“It was squirrels, arson squirrels,” Tanner insisted, revisiting their old argument.
Molly kept her hand close to the Ruger in her waistband. “These guys aren’t quite right are they, Mac?” she whispered.
“No, I don’t think they are,” Mac whispered back. “I don’t their family tree had as many branches as it should, but they seem to mean well.”
The hillside was still smoldering with small fires in the underbrush. The two thermate bombs had set the reavers alight, molten jets of metal burning rapidly through their hides. Mac rummaged in his pocket and pulled loose a scrap of paper and his pouch of pipe tobacco. He began to roll a cigarette. “Give me that beer later,” Mac said, “Right now, I’d be happy just to get the hell out of here.”
“Amen to that bro,” Dale said, opening his shotgun and inserting his last two shells into it. “We’re a good team though.”
“Yeah,” Molly said, smiling politely.
“Hello the road, two coming forward!”
Mac turned to see two figures approaching from the road, his hand already brushing his .38. Visitors weren’t always friendly, and he still didn’t wholly trust the intention of Dale and Tanner. He glanced over at Molly, and saw that she too was still on edge.
“Better be careful,” Tanner said, unnecessarily, “They might be coming to steal our cheese.”
“What cheese?” Dale asked, looking at his brother with confusion in his eyes.
“I got me a head of cheddar in my backpack I been carrying around,” Tanner said, glancing around conspiratorially.
“You had cheese all this time and you didn’t share it?” Dale asked, sounding offended. “Dude, I’ve been hungry, give me some.”
“No way dawg, that’s my lucky cheese,” Tanner said, forgetting about his rifle and clutching his backpack protectively.
Mac looked at the two brothers even more warily as Molly made her “I’m disturbed” facial expression.
“Can we come forward?” the man on the hill yelled again.
Looking closely, Mac saw that it looked like two people. One in a somewhat battered Army uniform, and the other wearing a fedora and a blue sweater. The one in the Army uniform had a slung carbine, and it looked as though both had pistols.
“Hey, isn’t that Hardigan?” Dale asked. “Dude, how sweet is that, we can get paid.”
“Oh man, that is Hardigan,” Tanner said, “I wonder where Whitey is?”
“You two know him?” Molly asked, motioning forward.
“Yeah, that’s Sarge Hardigan from the base, he’s on one of the rescue teams, we been working for him on a special assignment,” Dale said proudly.
“I see,” Molly said, sucking on her tongue with disapproval. Mac had known her long enough to know that when she said, “I see” it meant bad things.
Mac reflected that whoever this Hardigan was, he had odd taste in hired help, and also that this made him out numbered if things turned sour.
“We don’t mean you any harm!” The second of the figures yelled down, the one in the fedora. Mac realized that this was a woman.
Larry’s actions were unexpected, and took them all off guard, he immediately started to run forward, heading up the small rise, heedless of the small fires and the smoldering reaver carcasses.
“Larry, wait!” Molly yelled, trying to grab him, but he moved right past her grasp.
“Kid, don’t!” Mac yelled, starting forward as well, “This could be a set up,” he yelled, though he wasn’t sure quite how it could be.
Larry kept running forward, until her reached the top and threw himself into the arms of the apparently shocked woman in the fedora. “Mother!” he cried, sobbing.
“Whoa, dude, the guy in the hat with Hardigan is that kid’s mom?” Tanner asked, adjusting his glasses.
Not-Steiner crawled through the opening with ease, dislocating a shoulder, but no longer feeling the pain. It was a small opening to be sure, as the hatch to the auxiliary garage no longer opened all the way. It would have been difficult for any man to crawl out, but Not-Steiner was no longer a man. Crawling up the ladder had been hard work to be sure, learning how the new form worked. Putting one foot down, then one hand. The air was already fouled in the complex, from fires burning out of control with in, and the ventilation system shutting down. The toxic fumes seared already blackened and dead lungs, but the new cells growing in them were unaffected, slowed only slightly by the increasing lack of visibility.
Standing now, in fresh air, Not-Steiner found his vision improving, with senses sharpened. To the west, carried on the air, were strange chemical odors, as well as the scent of reavers. The shambling hulks that the humans called revenants, their odors were also strong. A product of what was, and what was to be, Not-Steiner sniffed the air, searching for a familiar –sensation – was the closest word to describing this new sense. It was more than a smell, it was more than a presence, it was the knowledge of a being, and the being that had in his own way created Not-Steiner, or helped his birth. A being occupying a place between God and Satan, and who would have to be destroyed.
Not-Steiner began to walk forward, and then settled into a run, dead muscles still functioned as they reshaped at a basic level. Black forms writhed and turned, tearing and stretching the skin which Not-Steiner wore as a frame. The change had come faster this time, replacing the old occupant of the form, replacing it and changing it.
The flat loafers fell off Not-Steiner’s feet as he began to run down the roadside, revenants either shying away or bonding and beginning to follow, beginning to converge around him. Somewhere deep inside, bits of the Old-Steiner’s memories still floated, trapped now as mere electrical firings. A relevant one formed, the image of scents of fuel on the air. Not-Steiner’s mind equated this with escape, with flight. Suddenly, Not-Steiner knew, knew that the Godcreature was headed that way, and would try to flee it.
Not-Steiner picked up his pace, the thin dress socks on his feet shredding as he ran, followed by the skin on the bottoms of his feet. The change had come so quickly, that Not-Steiner was both more and less than the products of the former host. The memory of fire stirred, searing flames, sufficient to force the essence to retreat deeper into the shell before. So hot, and coming so close to destroying the essence. Another chemical firing in Not-Steiner’s brain, and the image of more fire and unimaginable pain flashed forward.
Not-Steiner ran still faster, knowing that it too had to escape. Escape or risk the essence with in. Two competing desires now drove Not-Steiner forward towards the airstrip, the desire to destroy the originator, and the desire to protect the essence. Not-Steiner became dimly aware of the presence of humans nearby too, between it and the escape. No longer capable of speech, Not-Steiner thought only of a single concept “food”.
Hardigan leveled his Remington carbine and leaned out of the shattered back window of the Mazda. “Cover your ears,” he said to Larry, who was sitting next to him, sandwiched up against his mother. The two hadn’t said much, but had simply hung onto each other, though Hardigan had gotten the distinct impression that Larry thought that Hardigan and Kaufman were a couple.
Larry nodded and put his hands over his ears as Kaufman did the same.
They’d made good time getting out to the airstrip, and the revenants seemed at first to be converging back towards the base and away from them, though now the flow seemed to be mysteriously reversed again. Tanner and Dale, sitting in the front seat didn’t bother covering their ears as Hardigan pulled the trigger, shattering the padlock and chain that was securing the gate to the airstrip.
“That was loud,” Larry said. He had his bag with him, as well as a .22 rifle that was banging Hardigan in the shin.
“The car catches the sound, and reverberates,” Hardigan said, his own ears still ringing.
Tanner was driving and threw the car into reverse, circling around and smashing through the gate. Mac and Molly followed close behind on their motorcycle, with Molly in the sidecar now. She fired a burst from Mac’s Thompson at the revenants starting to coalesce into a group behind them.
“Stop here,” Hardigan ordered as they were just past the gate.
“Be careful,” Kaufman whispered, her eyes raw and puffy from the unexpected reunion. She took Hardigan’s hand and pumped it fiercely as he started to climb out. “Do not get killed on me,” she added before she released it.
Hardigan leaned forward and planted a fast kiss on her lips before darting out, slinging his carbine. He waited for Mac to roar past the gates, and then he swung them shut again, looping the chain around as best as he could to help hold it closed.
Mac had the cycle idling nearby, as Molly leapt from the sidecar and moved behind Mac. “Here, take this,” she yelled, pressing the Thompson into Hardigan’s hands.
Surprised by the weight of the weapon, Hardigan grunted as he swung his legs into the sidecar. He wondered where Mac had managed to find a fully functional Model 1928 Thompson along with a fifty round drum magazine. He didn’t feel like complaining though, as Mac opened up the throttle to catch up with the battered Mazda.
They rolled past an elaborate marble fountain that stood outside the terminal of the airstrip. It was an elaborate scene of wood nymphs frolicking amidst lily pads. A nozzle came from a squirrel’s mouth, and Hardigan wondered what it would look like if it were operational. A hand lettered sign on the fountain read “Fountain Out of Order”. Next to the fountain was a fuel truck, and he saw a hose leading from the truck to the fountain. Suddenly there was a spray of liquid from the standing squirrel, and Hardigan caught a whiff of fuel. He realized that someone must have run a connection from the truck to the fountain and done so recently. “What the fuck?” he muttered as he looked toward the Mazda to make sure Tanner and Dale weren’t smoking.
“That’s weird dawg, someone turned the fountain on, but with gas,” Dale said as they sped by.
“Yeah, people do weird shit,” Tanner grunted as he swung the wheel around hard, squealing the tires as they sped past the fountain.
“Can you try not to kill us with your driving?” Kaufman asked from the bag seat.
Dale studied his brother for a moment and then turned around to face Kaufman, “I’d honestly like to guarantee that we won’t Ma’am, but I just can’t make that promise.”
Tanner took another turn at high speed, sending them barreling down the tarmac towards where the helicopters were parked. “Sweet, this thing can get the speed up if you put it right to the floor.”
Kaufman looked into the front seat and noticed that all the needles were in the red. “You’re going to burn out the engine,” she cautioned.
“Don’t worry mom, this is fun,” Larry said.
Kaufman looked at her son and wondered what sort of habits he might have picked up, and then she simply let him cling onto her again. Kaufman took some solace in the fact that Mac, Molly, and Hardigan were just behind her on the motorcycle. She still wasn’t sure exactly where they’d come from, but Mac claimed to be able to fly a helicopter, so she was glad to see him, even if he was wearing a strange sombrero. From what little Kaufman had been able to learn so far, they’d taken good care of Larry.
“Who’s that?” Kaufman asked, as they pulled within sight of the two helicopters parked along the tarmac. Someone was climbing into the UH-1 and seemed to be hastily completing the preflight checks.
“Son of a bitch, that’s the bastard who almost ran us off the road!” Tanner yelled, seeing a blue Honda motorcycle parked nearby. “I’m so going to beat his ass for that.”
“You and me both dawg,” Dale said, pounding his fist into his hand.
Tanner squealed the brakes and tires both, stopping the Mazda in front of the UH-1.
“Stay here and be careful,” Kaufman said to Larry as she drew her pistol and started to open her door, turning behind her to see that Mac had stopped the cycle just behind them.
Before any of them could act, the pilot of the UH-1 left from the cockpit, swinging a Heckler and Koch MP5 out from the seat and triggering a burst.
Kaufman threw herself out the door and flat as she saw Dale and Tanner fall to the ground, landing hard on her shoulder, Kaufman lost the grip on her Sig. “Hardigan!” she screamed as she saw him fall as well.
Mac hit the dirt as soon as the shooting starting, rolling from the bike. He pulled his .38 and tried to make himself small.
“Mac! Be careful, don’t hit the choppers!” Molly yelled, pulling her shotgun loose from the motorcycle. Despite her outburst, she fired a load of buckshot herself, which sent a spider web impact pattern across the glass of the UH-1.
Out of deference to the popular opinion to start shooting, Mac fired two rounds from his Model 14 in the general direction of where the pilot had been. He looked over to the sidecar and saw that Hardigan was down in the dirt, clutching his right arm.
“Throw down your guns or I’ll kill the boy!” The pilot yelled. “Stand up and throw down your guns!”
“He’s got Larry! He’s got my son!” Kaufman yelled her voice filled with anguish.
Mac looked over at Hardigan first, and then Molly, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “Well?”
“Mac-“ Molly said, and then she shrugged helplessly.
“You have a hold out piece?” Hardigan whispered.
“Yeah, a little Sig .380,” Mac replied. “What do you have in mind?”
“Just stash it where I can reach it,” Hardigan replied, “Shove it in your waistband behind you and I’ll stand to your side.”
“I saw that same movie,” Mac said sourly, “And they basically all died.”
“Let’s hope I’m faster than Chow Yun Fat then,” Hardigan said.
“I don’t like this,” Molly said, making a very sad nose wrinkle.
“Your guns gentlemen, now, or I will shoot the boy. I suggest you follow the lead of the good doctor Kaufman and stand up. Raise also your hands please.”
“Who is this ass clown?” Mac asked, starting to rise.
“Doctor Emil Lang, resident mad scientist,” Hardigan said. “Or so it sounds like.” Hardigan dragged himself to his feet, “Don’t shoot, we’re throwing our guns down.” Hardigan removed his Kimber from his tanker rig and tossed it to the ground. Watching as Molly threw down her Ruger and shotgun. Mac finally stood and threw down his Smith and Wesson. He tilted his head slightly so that Hardigan could see where he had his Sig P232 hidden.
“Come towards me now gentleman,” Lang ordered.
Seeing the others looking towards him for affirmation, Hardigan nodded and they all slowly marched forward. Lang was standing in from of them. He’d now discarded his MP5 and was armed with Kaufman’s Sig M11, which he was holding to Larry’s temple.
Kaufman was kneeling in the dirt in front of them, near the prostate forms of Dale and Tanner. Hardigan saw that they were still moving, and that Kaufman seemed to be unhurt save for a split lip. It looked as though Lang had cuffed her one, and Hardigan made a note to even up that score.
Larry seemed to be holding his own, though he as white as a sheet. Lang had grabbed him by his backpack and was still holding onto one of the straps. Hardigan wasn’t sure how it had happened, but it looked as though Lang had charged the car after emptying his SMG, belted Kaufman, and taken hostages.
“Alright Lang,” Hardigan said, “We’re here, don’t shoot the kid, let him go.”
“I did not want any of this,” Lang said, seeming flustered. “I only wanted to correct the balance.”
“Correct what balance?” Kaufman asked, “Are you insane Lang?”
“Quiet,” Lang ordered, tensing like a snake. “If Nora had come away with me like we originally planned, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Nora?” Hardigan asked, who’s Nora.
Tanner managed to drag himself into a sitting position, holding his lower leg. He looked over at Dale, who was holding his side and seemed to be in worse shape. “Nora was your girl Greer’s mom Hardigan, this dude was putting it to her.”
“Lies, lies!” Lang yelled, “I loved that woman, but she chose her fool of a husband over me. The false security of a failed ideal instead of a new life. I could have saved her from all this. If people had listened to me and adopted my methods earlier, this never would have happened. We could have concentrated the infected and controlled the spread of the reaver spores.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Mac asked.
“You, in the sombrero, shut the hell up or you’ll die wearing that stupid hat,” Lang said tersely.
“Just let my son go, you’ve got what you want Lang,” Kaufman said, surprising everyone including herself be not being hysterical. Shock will do that to a person, she told herself. She looked at Hardigan, he seemed to have taken a bullet in his right arm, but it looked about as “not serious” as a gunshot would could be.
“You know nothing about what I want, nothing!” Lang insisted, a vein bulging in his forehead.
“Uh oh, this guy looks like he’s about to pop,” Mac whispered.
“Tell us what you want Lang,” Hardigan said, trying to be reasonable.
“I do not know,” Lang said, his eyes growing unfocused. “When I came here, I thought I had the new answer. Genoflux, to mix the DNA they want to harvest anyway. With the solar cycle at its zenith, they were already due to converge. I wanted to control the convergence, but I fear all I have done is worse then infection.”
“Is that why you sent your moon men to kill the daughter of the lady you were banging?” Tanner asked, adjusting his glasses.
“Do not guess at things beyond your power to understand,” Lang said fiercely. “I sent them to save a man I once called a friend, perhaps the team didn’t act entirely appropriately, but I did not know.”
“What is he talking about?” Mac asked.
“I don’t know,” Hardigan said, though he was beginning to understand more about how Greer was involved in all of this. “Nora’s daughter is safe Doctor Lang. Lisa Greer got out just fine.”
“She’s a whore, just like her mother, a cock tease whore,” Lang spat.
“This guy seems to have some personality issues,” Mac said quietly, keeping a smile and trying not to move his lips much.
“You’re noticing that too,” Hardigan said dryly.
“All of you back away, I do not wish to kill any one,” Lang demanded. “I will take the boy with me as a hostage, the rest of you can die by the hands of others or make a run for it. It will not be on my hands,” Lang motioned them back with the pistol and began to pull Larry towards the UH-1.
“Mom!” Larry yelled.
“No! Larry!” Kaufman cried out, starting to rise to her feet.
Lang started to bring the Sig down towards her.
“Don’t do it Lang,” Hardigan yelled.
“No closer, no closer!” Lang insisted, still backing towards the helicopter. He discharged the pistol into the dirt at Kaufman’s feet as a threat.
Mac pretended to stumble on something and bent down, exposing the .380 held in the small of his back. Hardigan saw it and made his move, reaching with his left hand and grabbing the .380.
Kaufman stumbled backwards, twisting to the side to make her a harder target. She threw the piece of limestone that she’d picked up earlier, striking Lang in the cheek, causing him to momentarily lose his balance as he opened the helicopter door. Larry seized his chance and broke away from Lang’s grasp, running forward as fast as his legs would carry him. “Mom, mom!” he yelled, throwing himself into Kaufman’s arms.
Hardigan decided it was time to earn his nickname, and brought the Sig up left handed, firing it at Lang now that he lacked his human shield. Mac turned on his heel and ran back to where they’d dropped their guns, Molly doing the same. Hardigan kept firing one handed, advancing as he did so.
A number of rounds spent themselves against the Plexiglas of the helicopter but several found their mark, burying themselves in Lang’s torso. He stumbled and dropped the Sig, but found a last burst of energy to throw him behind the yolk. The rotors began to spin faster as he adjusted the controls.
Mac started firing his .38 and Molly brought her Ruger up, firing rapidly at the helicopter, rounds sparking as they bounced off. Lang pulled back on the stick and the helicopter began to rise.
Hardigan saw Lang clutch at his chest as the chopper rose, kicking up dust and debris and forcing them all back. Rushing forward, Hardigan threw his arms around Kaufman and Larry and shielded them with his body as best as he could. Mac and Molly gave up shooting at the helicopter and pulled Tanner and Dale back away from the rotor wash.
Behind them the gates began to vibrate as dozens of revenants began to slam into it.
“That chain isn’t going to hold,” Hardigan said, looking over his shoulder at the seething mass assaulting the fence and gates. He was still holding onto Kaufman and Larry.
“Here, take these,” Mac said, bringing over Hardigan’s Kimber and the Remington.
“I’d better take care of those two anyway,” Kaufman said, breaking the embrace and kissing Hardigan softly. “I didn’t expect any of this by the way,” she added, grabbing her pack from the Mazda.
“Me either,” Hardigan called after her, slinging his rifle. He turned to Mac and looked at the gates.
“There’s something funny going on out there,” Mac yelled, pointing towards the gates.
Hardigan saw it too, the sea of revenants seemed to part, as a figure walked between them. It was still shaped mostly like a man, but its form was now contorted, things seemed to be moving over its body. It ran forward and with sheer momentum began to bang against the gates.
Hardigan reached down and shook Kaufman’s shoulder, causing her to look up from working on Dale and Tanner’ wounds. “I’ll get your arm in a minute,” she said, not looking up immediately.
“Not that,” Hardigan said hurriedly, “Look towards the gate. Is that Steiner?”
Kaufman looked up and her jaw dropped, both of them stared in horror as a figure, which looked very much like a contorted version of Steiner slammed itself into the gates, sending them spinning. Running faster than any man could, it began to advance, a sea of revenants coming behind it.
Meanwhile, Lang continued struggling to get the helicopter airborne, touching and going from the tarmac, and finally coming to rest a few hundred yards away, down the airstrip. He threw open the door and fell to the ground, trying to rise again, with what appeared to be Steiner rushing rapidly toward him.
“We need to go, now!” Hardigan said, decisively.
“You need to be bandaged up, and so do they!” Kaufman said, then she saw the mass of revenants, thousands of them, following behind the Steiner thing and all running towards Dr. Lang’s landing spot. A number of them were now headed towards where they were standing.
“Oh hell,” Kaufman whispered.
“We need to go mom,” Larry said, tugging on her sleeve furiously.
“Can you fly that thing?” Hardigan asked quickly, looking at the UH-60.
The color gone from her face, Kaufman shook her head, “I only know how to fly a fixed wing aircraft, and a helicopter is a whole different ball game.”
“I can fly it,” Mac said, coming from up from behind with Molly at his heels. He was hauling the saddlebags from the motorcycle as well as his Tommy gun. “But we’re going to need to pre-flight it, and that assumes that it is all gassed up. I’m going to need a couple of minutes.”
Hardigan raised his carbine to his shoulder and fired, “We don’t have a couple of minutes.”
“You got any of those bombs left?” Tanner asked, struggling to his feet unsteadily.
“Plenty,” Mac said, hefting the saddlebags.
“You thinking what I’m thinking bro?” Tanner asked, looking down at Dale.
“Yeah, guess I am,” Dale said, dragging himself up to his feet, despite a pained expression.
“Arson squirrels bro,” Tanner said, grabbing some of the thermate grenades and forcing them into his pockets. He pulled out a crumpled pack of Victory cigarettes and stuck one between his lips.
Hardigan leaned over and lit it for him, taking one from the pack and passing one to Dale as well. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Someone has to,” Tanner said simply, reaching into the back of the Mazda and pulling out the trash bag he’d recovered from Greer’s house. “Here, take this, its what you sent us for. Not sure how much it will clear up, but your gal – he looked at Kaufman for a moment – “Your other gal anyway might want it.”
“What are they doing Mac?” Molly asked, gaping.
“Killing themselves,” Mac said, looking away. He pulled out his last two bottles of beer from his pack and handed them over.
“Much obliged friend,” Dale said, opening his.
“This is crazy, you’re hurt, and we need to…” Kaufman started to say.
Hardigan picked up her hat and forced it onto her head. “Go, now,” he said, taking her by the hand and dragging towards the chopper.
Larry grabbed Kaufman’s two bags and his rifle and ran along behind and Mac sprinted for the pilot’s seat. Molly stared after Dale and Tanner for just a moment longer as they climbed into the Mazda and started it, Tanner driving, they swung back around towards the oncoming revenants.
“Let’s see if I can remember how all this works,” Mac said, tossing the saddle bags and their remaining contents into the troop compartment and slamming the door. Molly climbed into the copilots seat next to him.
“Shouldn’t I be up there?” Kaufman asked.
“You already said you can’t fly this bird, so it’s my show Doc, just fix his arm,” Mac said, smiling and adjusting his sombrero.
“Laura, call me Laura,” Kaufman said absently as she tore Hardigan’s sleeve open and began to inspect his arm.
“Better figure it out fast Mac,” Molly said. She had her shotgun held close.
“I haven’t let you down yet,” Mac grunted as he began to throw switches.
“Mac will save us,” Larry said with determination, though he immediately begun to utter prayers under his breath.
“Looks like this is it bro,” Dale said, firing his Colt out the window as they sped towards the revenants.
“Sure does bro,” Tanner agreed, firing his own Ruger one handed.
“I don’t feel so good with these bullets in me anyway bro,” Dale confessed, already looking pale. “I think I lost a lot of blood.” He drank his last swallow of beer and tossed the bottle out the window.
“Looks as though we’re dead soon anyway bro,” Tanner said, smoking the last of his cigarette. “Someone had to be the hero, and I want to blow up real good.” He coughed and blood dripped down his lips. “Think I’m hurt worse than I let on too.” He slammed down the last of his own beer. “Time to meet the arson squirrels again.” He pulled the pin on one of the thermate grenades and spun the car, tossing it forward, and then taking off at a 90-degree angle as it exploded, heading back to the fountain.
“I hope this is quick,” Dale said, reloading his Colt.
“Don’t know, what do you think happens after this?” Tanner asked, feeling philosophical.
“Warm and fiery to warm and fiery,” Dale cackled.
“Sweet,” Tanner said, steering the Mazda towards the fountain, he saw the aviation gas glittering from the nozzle, sprinkling down like rain from the mouth of the squirrel. It was the most beautiful think he’d ever seen. In his mind, the army of squirrels with gas cans danced once again. He tugged the last of the thermate grenades from his pocket and pulled the pin, still holding the safety spoon down.
Tanner drove the Mazda right into the fountain as the sea of revenants swarmed around them. The sign fell into the clear sparkling fuel, the letters fading rapidly in the solvent. In the drivers seat Tanner released the safety spoon on the grenade and threw it over his shoulder into the back seat. He pulled his Ruger and put it to his head.
“See ya bro,” Dale said, tucking his Colt under his chin.
“Righteous dawg, righteous,” Tanner affirmed, smiling at his brother for the last time.
Not-Steiner saw the creator in front of him and charged. He had been able to sense the other’s presence since he tossed the gates open, his new army following behind him. An old synapse fired out of sequence again, and Not-Steiner thought blended with Old-Steiner thought, as he saw himself leading a charge of gleaming cavalry steeds.
The creator/instigator/god was stumbling away from his helicopter, bleeding from bullet wounds to his torso. Not-Steiner no longer knew what the machine Lang had climbed out of was called, but he still sensed that it offered escape for his prey. Ruined lungs releasing a hideous gasping howl, Not-Steiner through himself into an even faster run, bowling into the other man and knocking him to the ground.
“No, no, this is not how it must end,” Lang screamed, trying to pull away.
Not-Steiner reached his arms out and pulled Lang close, embracing him, as the forms beneath the skin exploded and burrowed into the other man’s flesh, finding access first through the bullet holes and then ripping more. Not-Steiner knew the essence was pleased, as it felt a rush of something never before imaginable. It felt union as it began to infest the instigator.
The bliss was short lived, as the entwined form of Not-Steiner and Lang was bowled over by the wave of the fire ball of the exploding fountain, followed by the fuel truck, followed by the UH-1 exploding. The successive blast waves scorched and seared, breaking the union and replacing it only with pain.
“Jesus,” Mac whispered as the UH-60 shook from the explosion.
“Those brave, dumb, crazy, hillbilly bastards,” Molly muttered, staring in awe at the rising fireball.
“You can say that again,” Kaufman said, pausing from working on Hardigan’s arm to wipe a tear away.
Larry tugged at her sleeve, “Why are you crying mom? We’re together again, it’s going to be okay.”
“I know, I know son,” Kaufman said, her voice cracking under the strain.
“Hang on, here goes nothing,” Mac said, pulling back on the stick. The helicopter began to rise.
“Looks like we made it after all,” Hardigan yelled, “Ouch. Careful with the arm Laura!”
“It just grazed you, now hold still,” Kaufman said, suturing the wound with butterfly sutures.
“There’s helmets on the seats, put them on and plug them in,” Mac yelled, “You’ll be able to hear better.”
Larry was the first to fit himself into a helmet, though it rattled around loose on his head. “Looks like I got to ride in a helicopter after all, and I got my mom back, thank you Mac.”
“Any time, any time,” Mac laughed.
“How much gas do we have?” Molly asked, looking over the gauges.
“Almost full,” Mac said. “Where are we headed?” he asked.
“Norfolk, the plan was to get Norfolk,” Hardigan said, sounding as exhausted as he looked. “There’s supposed to be a German submarine there, and maybe a freighter too. They’re the ones who bought Lang over.”
“The crazy guy Lang, the one who tried to kill us all?” Molly asked incredulously.
“The Lang who shot you and tried to kidnap Larry and fly off, leaving us to our deaths?” Mac asked at the same time.
“The same,” Hardigan and Kaufman both chorused.
“How do we know that there’s still any one at Norfolk? And if the Germans bought Lang over, that isn’t exactly doing us a favor. What makes you so sure that we’re not flying out of the frying pan and into the fire?”
Kaufman squeezed Hardigan’s hand, “We’re not,” she said, “We’re not sure at all.”
“Sounds about right then,” Mac said, concentrating on his flying. “We’ll have enough gas to get to Norfolk, but it’s going to be one way. If we don’t like what we find, there’s not going to be any place else to go.”
Molly wrinkled her nose and squeezed Mac’s leg. “At least we’re together.”
“She’s got a point,” Kaufman said, leaning down and kissing Hardigan gently. “We might be flying into another adventure, think you’ll be up for it?”
“Assuming you let me take a nap,” Hardigan croaked. He squeezed Kaufman’s hand.
“I like your new boyfriend mom,” Larry said, smiling contentedly.
“We’re…” Kaufman started to say, but then she looked at Hardigan.
“We’re going to do just fine,” Hardigan said, looking out the window. He held Kaufman’s hand while she hugged Larry. He wondered about where Greer and Jenny were, and if they were still alive. Was Whitey still alive? What about Jenny and Stavros?
Kaufman pumped Hardigan’s hand again, “I think I love you Jack.”
“I think that might be mutual Laura,” he whispered. He wondered if the Germans would be friends or foe. And whether they had a place to escape to or were just running themselves?
“Think we’ll ever know just what all Lang was guilty of?” Kaufman asked, running her hands through first Larry’s hair and then Hardigan’s.
“I don’t know if we’ll ever know, but maybe that bag Tanner gave me will have some answers, and maybe Greer will have others, if we ever catch up with the others,” Hardigan said, frowning.
“Hey,” Mac said, keying the intercom, “Don’t worry so much, we’re either going to be alive or dead soon, but we’ll know one way or the other.” He chuckled.
Hardigan widened his embrace so that Larry could lean on him as well and sunk back into the seat. Mac was right he thought, for right now he was alive, Kaufman had her son back, and they were as safe as they were going to be for the time being. He also had the joys and perils of whatever was developing with Kaufman. Hardigan nodded as he started to fall asleep. All in all, it was about the best he could hope for.
Not-Steiner lay in a ditch, as the essence experienced deep and true pain once more. The fireball had washed over, but it had not been hot enough. The union was temporarily disrupted, but once again Not-Steiner extended tendrils into the still form of the instigator. The instigator was still now, but the flesh was still pliable, and could help the host.
In the condition that Not-Steiner was in, the transformation took more time, but soon the still form of Dr. Lang began to stir again as other shapes moved under its skin. Not-Steiner heard and felt the helicopter pass overhead, and a part of him felt sadness at loosing the food which might help the incubation, but other bodies could soon be gathered. Already some of the revenants were gathering chunks of burned flesh from their fallen comrades to help germinate the spores as well as give the eggs a chance at hatching.
So intent in the transformation was Not-Steiner and so foreign was the intellect, which now comprised the essence, that it had no concept of the hours that passed by. As the sun set, and the darkness gathered, Not-Steiner began to move again, moving towards a pile of the flesh, preparing to begin the process of nest making. The hosting of the instigator would make a more powerful brood.
Sticking to one of Not-Steiner’s burned wounds was a scrap of Wall Street Journal, it read “Swiss Bio-Chemist Claims New Discovery Based On Mars Fossils”. The paper blew off and flew into the darkness.
On Not-Steiner’s burnt wrist, a scarred Timex watch beeped furiously, the alarm ringing. A last electrical impulse from the mind of the Old-Steiner suggested that this was important somehow, but then it soon faded.
The watch was fast, but not by much, seconds later the ball of fire hotter than the sun washed over the airstrip. This time the fire was hot enough to destroy even the essence.
Epilogue
Alice was still a bit unsteady on her feet as she surveyed the plane. “You were right Tom,” she said, looking at Baldwin, “Landing was the hard part.”
Baldwin grimaced from his seat on the beach, either from Alice’s statement or from the antiseptic that Nellie was applying to his head; it was hard to tell. “The deal was that I didn’t kill us all, and no one died,” he said, smirking slightly. Now that they’d been on the ground for a few hours, his color seemed to be returning. “Not bad for a night landing on a piece of crap road with just burning barrels for light,” he said.
“Not bad at all,” Alice said, blushing slightly, “And yes, I remember our deal.”
“What are you two talking about?” Nellie asked, wrapping gauze now.
“Nothing,” Baldwin and Alice both replied at once, meeting each other’s gaze.
Nellie shot them both an odd look before returning to her work, “You need to let me look at that leg of yours yet,” she added absently.
Alice nodded and looked again at her calf. The slacks to her suit would never be the same, but she hoped the cuts were minor. “What bothers me is that I didn’t do this in the landing, I did it falling off the ladder climbing out,” she muttered.
“And don’t forget who you fell on,” Baldwin said, softening the comment with the smile.
“I’m sure that I can make it up to you somehow,” Alice said, a slight twinkle in her eye. She wondered if she’d regret taking up with Baldwin later, but decided that for now she was happy just to be alive.
“Here they come,” someone said from further down the beach.
Alice turned her head to watch flares rising into the air. By their light, she could see a number of yellow boats bobbing in the surf, headed towards the beach.
“Let’s hope they’re friendly,” Whitey said, coming towards them. He had his M14 slung over his shoulder.
“If they aren’t, is there much we can do about it?” Baldwin asked.
“A thing or two,” Whitey said, smiling without mirth and tapping a finger against his holstered .45.
“If that’s going to happen, I need a gun,” Alice said softly, weighing their options.
“Me too,” Nellie added, her voice seeming to come from far away.
“Already ahead of you,” Whitey said, removing Nellie’s Beretta from behind his waistband and handing it back to her. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do with that,” he cautioned.
“Don’t worry,” Nellie said, her voice toneless. “I miss Laura, but I know I’m needed here.”
Whitey nodded, seeming satisfied. Then he removed his Browning Hi Power from his thigh holster. He hadn’t fired it even once during their evacuation from the complex. Carefully, he passed it to Alice. “Safety’s on, one up the spout already,” he said.
Figuring that was going to be the only instruction that she was likely to receive, Alice nodded and kept her finger well away from the pistol’s trigger as she placed it into her waistband. “Danke,” she said, smiling ironically.
“Yeah, let’s just hope you’re can remember more German than that,” Whitey said.
Greer overhead parts of Whitey’s admonitions from where she sat just down the beach. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders to avoid the chill of the night. Just behind her, the barrels that had been lit to guide them to the deserted road near the beach were still lit. Greer had her Mini-14 laid over her thighs.
“They’re on their way,” Jenny said from her own seat. She removed a waterproof match vial from one of the pockets of the field jacket she was wearing, and struck a match. It lit up her face briefly, revealing eyes that Greer thought were probably as puffy as her own. Jenny put the match to the tip of a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “Now we find out if we’re home free or not.”
“I’m not sure what home is any more,” Greer muttered.
“We’ve still got each other,” Jenny said, trying to keep her tone light and shrugging slightly.
“That we do,” Greer admitted, “Look Jenny, about Hardigan… I didn’t try to steal him from you, I want you to know that, and I still care about you, that never stopped…”
Jenny smiled softly and placed a finger to Greer’s lips. “Shush, it’s okay. What happened is what happened. I mean, look at Stavros and Finley, she’s still got her eyes set on Whitey, who’s got that Nikki was pulled out of the tower moping after him now too. It’s going to get complicated. There are only so many of us left.”
Greer nodded and reached out, squeezing Jenny’s hand, “I miss him.”
“I know you do, I miss him too,” Jenny said, “But nothing we’re going to say can bring him back.”
Another flare went off, lighting up the night sky, as the boats drew closer. Greer could see the conning tower and deck of the German submarine now, and behind it, the just barely visible outline of the freighter that served as its companion.
“Let’s hope the rest of them aren’t like Dr. Lang,” Jenny muttered tersely.
“They won’t be,” Greer said, staring out into the night, “Lang didn’t mean to hurt us, I don’t think he meant to hurt any one, but that didn’t make what he did any less hurtful. I think the others saw in him what we did, a chance, any chance, to grab onto.”
“Are you ever going to tell me what went on between you and your father?”
“One day,” Greer whispered, a tear falling again, “I promise, one day.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Jenny said simply.
Greer watched the boats drawing closer, “Of course if I’m wrong about them,” she patted her Ruger, “We always have plan B.”
“We need a plan B,” Kaufman said, visibly shaken as they made a pass over the submarine below them. Their flag could be seen flapping on a pole on the conning tower.
“Plan be requires more gas,” Mac said, tapping the fuel warning lights on now lit up. “We’re going to be sucking fumes in a minute. Best I’m going to be able to do is set her down on the beach, unless you want to get your feet wet.”
“That might be better than ending up in an oven,” Kaufman said harshly.
From the co-pilot seat, Molly rubbed her face and whispered, “I don’t know what to do, we can’t turn around and all the bases here seem to be overrun.”
“The Krauts are the only ones who answered the radio calls,” Mac said. “Hell, you talked to them, they said to land and they’d come get us.”
“I’m scared,” Larry said simply. He had been clinging to Kaufman on and off throughout the flight, and now did so more than ever.
Hardigan wiped his brow and then squeezed Kaufman’s shoulder. “We flew past where the C130 landed, it didn’t look like there had been a battle. If the Germans meant us harm, why go to all this trouble?”
“Then tell me why they’re flying what looks like a damn Swastika on their bow?” Kaufman said, pulling her Star of David necklace out. “That doesn’t make me feel all warm and cozy.
Mac frowned deeply as he brought the Blackhawk back around toward the beach. “Rather take your chances back on the ground?” he asked.
Kaufman snapped the chain and pressed the necklace into Hardigan’s palm. “When we land, throw that as far away as you can,” she whispered, looking at him until her nodded. Her fingers wordlessly found their way to Larry’s shirt and pulled it open, yanking off an identical necklace and handing it to Hardigan.
“Mom, why do we have to…?” Larry started to ask, but then seeing the look in his mother’s eyes, he didn’t resist as she took away his necklace.
“I’ll toss them,” Hardigan said. He didn’t know what else to say. The city of Norfolk showed extensive fire damage, and the naval installations were just plain gone. Nothing more than wreckage was waiting for them, save for one lone voice on the radio.
“I can’t bring myself to do it,” Kaufman said. She pulled her fedora on and tucked her hair up under it.
“I’m going to bring us in,” Mac warned, “this might be a bit rough, I haven’t landed one of these in a long time,” he added, grunting.
“If I end up in some kind of Nazi rape camp, I’m personally coming back to haunt you both,” Kaufman muttered.
Molly heard this and blanched a bit, reaching her own hand out to squeeze Mac’s shoulder. “Do you think they’d do something like that?” she asked, her voice icy.
“I don’t know,” Mac said.
“They’ll have to get through us first,” Hardigan said. He wrapped the sling of his Remington around his forearm.
“They’ve already got boats out, headed towards the beach,” Molly said, watching more flares sparkle.
“Here goes nothing,” Mac grunted, letting their wheels touch down.
Kaufman had been wondering about Mac’s abilities as a pilot, but now she had to give him credit, he managed to set them down with barely a jar. Waiting for the blades to stop moving and the debris to settle, she took one last look at Hardigan. “At least it’s been a hell of a ride,” she whispered.
“This isn’t goodbye Laura,” Hardigan said.
Kaufman simply nodded, and she thanked Hardigan quietly as she watched him throw something over his shoulder as soon as they stepped out onto the beach. Her Sig was in its holster, but she had already made up her mind to reach for it if things went south.
Hardigan set his arm around Kaufman, while Molly took a seat on one of their bags, waiting. Mac meanwhile, calmly rolled a cigarette. “Need a light?” Hardigan asked, flaring his Zippo to life.
“Always,” Mac said, letting the rolled paper catch.
“Roll one for me?” Kaufman asked. “It’s tradition for the condemned to get one last cigarette.”
Mac regarded her for a moment, but then produced a bit more paper and one of his pouches of Borkum Riff. “Better roll one for everyone then,” he said, rolling three more.
Molly had never been one to smoke, but she took one and let Hardigan light it, as he also lit Kaufman’s, and finally his own.
“Anyone asks I’m a Mormon,” Kaufman said suddenly.
“I think the Nazis might have killed them too,” Hardigan observed seriously.
“Today isn’t my day then,” Kaufman muttered, exhaling.
“I used to be a Mormon,” Molly said, sounding even more worried.
“And I’m wearing a funny hat,” Mac said.
“Maybe they’ll be nice Nazis,” Larry said philosophically.
Hardigan savored his cigarette, wondering if it actually would be his last one. “Funny,” he said, “We come all this way and now we have to worry as much about other people as we ever had to worry about those things out there.”
“That’s the way the world works,” Kaufman said. She pulled out a bottle of vodka from her medical bag, and continued, “When we aren’t facing something else, we turn on each other.” She noticed everyone’s stares, “Purely for medicinal purposes,” she explained, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink, before passing it on.
It took the Germans longer to reach the shore than they’d expected, so much so that a good bit of the vodka was already in Kaufman’s system by the time the first boat hit the beach. Watching the Germans cautiously approach, she noticed a familiar face with them. “Tom!” she yelled, wondering for a brief instant if she was dreaming. “You made it!”
“We all made it,” Baldwin said, smiling easy and striding quickly forward to embrace Kaufman briefly. Releasing her, he reached his hand out and shook the hands of the others in turn.
“Greer and Jenny?” Hardigan started to ask.
“Everyone made it out,” Baldwin said. “I’d say without a scratch, but as you can see,” he tapped the bandaged around his head, “But I took the worst of it. Alice fell on me coming down the ladder.”
Hardigan cast a wary glance at the dozen odd German sailors standing behind Baldwin. Kaufman noticed his glance, and nodded at him, “Going to introduce us to your new friends Tom?” she asked.
“Allow me,” one of the Germans said, stepping forward. He was wearing a wet suit like the others, “I am…the rank you would be familiar is Captain I believe… I am Captain Udet of the Imperial German Navy.”
“Imperial?” Mac whispered under his breath.
Seeing their concern, Captain Udet simply said, “There have been some changes.”
Kaufman felt her blood run cold. Later, she’d wonder if it was the vodka, but she asked, “Is that why you’re flying the swastika?”
Hardigan wondered if he’d have to reach for his gun, mentally he calculated it as an even money shot that he and Mac – whom he could also see tensing – could take the Germans. As to what would happen next, well on that count, Hardigan didn’t care to speculate.
Instead of ordering them machine-gunned, as Kaufman half expected, Udet merely stared at them for a moment in confusion. “If you mean our flag, the Imperial Naval Battle Flag is an old design, but I assure you that it bears what you’d refer to as an Iron Cross, not a swastika.”
Kaufman released the breath she’d been holding and squeezed Hardigan’s hand to steady herself. “I had… wondered… about that,” she said.
Udet merely nodded, “Come, we will help you load your things, it is not safe here. You will be much safer on the ships with your friends,” he paused. “Is that vodka I smell?” he asked.
Kaufman handed him the bottle, “My gift,” she said simply.
Udet bowed and took it, drawing a brief sip and then passing to each of his men, who also took quick sips. “My thanks,” he said, “But we must hurry, this area is still not as safe as it could be.”
Larry stepped forward now and asked timidly, “You won’t hurt my mother and I will you Captain Udet?”
“Mother?” Baldwin asked, looking confused for a moment before pausing to smile at Kaufman when he realized whom Larry was referring to.
“Certainly not my good young man,” Udet said, still looking perplexed.
“They’re on the level,” Baldwin said.
Taking both Larry and Hardigan’s hand, Kaufman walked towards the waiting rubber rafts, following Mac who was more adventurous and had scooped Molly up in his arms. The German sailors rushed to grab their assorted bags from the helicopter and were soon on their heels.
As she sat in the raft, Kaufman pulled her had down over her eyes and sheltered her eyes from the salt spray. Larry hugged her knees and Hardigan continued to keep his arm protectively around her. “We didn’t do so bad, all things considered, did we Jack?” she whispered.
“You’ve got your son back,” he said, smiling softly, “and most everyone we took out with us made it out alive. All things considered, I’d say we won this one.”
“What about the next one?” Kaufman asked, listening to the soft hum as one of the Germans kicked on their raft’s electric motor. They began to move closer towards the waiting ships. “We don’t even know what’s waiting for us out here. Not really I mean.”
“No one ever knows,” Hardigan said. He remembered that he still had the journal he’d found recently in his gas mask bag. He slid the bag open and ran his fingers lightly over the pages. “The best we can do is try to make sure that someone comes along after us to pick up whatever pieces we can’t,” he said, smiling softly at Larry. “And we try to leave something for them to hold onto, so that they won’t forget what we did. That way even if we fail, they have something to pass on.”
Kaufman punched him in the arm, “Cut it out, you’ll make me cry again,” she whispered.
“Hey, you guys have any Scotch?” Mac yelled from another raft.
“Nein, schnapps,” someone replied.
“Eh, I knew there had to be a catch,” he moaned.
Kaufman and Hardigan both chuckled.
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