The Last Bastion of the Living (The Last Bastion #1)(13)

“You really are a tenacious creature,” Dwayne mused.

“I would have made a fantastic investigative reporter before humanity fell,” she conceded. “Of course, there will only be so far I can go before the information I secure for you will be considered top secret.”

“That has never stopped you before,” Dwayne said wryly. “You know how the Constabulary works.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“If I’m going to be efficient in my role as the Castellan, then I need to know what my dear Commandant is up to and she’s not going to tell me herself.” Dwayne folded his arms over his chest, feeling grim and uncertain.

“Understood. I’ll report back as soon as I have something.” Petra slid out of her chair and moved toward the doorway. “Will you need anything else?”

Dwayne shook his head, staring at the empty slots in the calendar glowing on his screen.

Petra shut the door behind her as Dwayne twisted his chair about and stared out the narrow window toward the capital building.





Chapter 3


As she hurried up the narrow cement staircase toward the heavy steel door at the top, Maria dragged in deep breaths of stale, humid air, preparing herself mentally. It was always hard to face what lay beyond the high walls of The Bastion. No matter how many times she patrolled the walls, her heart always sped up during the first few seconds on duty.

Her body armor was heavy and slightly claustrophobic. She hooked the strap of her weapon onto her armor, and it settled against her chest, a comforting, familiar weight. Her breath reverberated in her helmet as she swung around a landing and headed up the next flight of stairs. Above her, the door to the outside slid open and dark shapes blotted out her brief glimpse of the low-hanging, gray sky. The shapes morphed into soldiers descending the stairs after a long shift on the walls. They wore somber expressions inside their helmets as the hurried past her. Maria fiddled with the strap on her weapon one last time, then took the last few stairs in a rush.

Walking out onto the platform, her breath caught in her throat. The sky spread out in a panorama of dark clouds. Lightning flashed deep within the storm, and thunder echoed through the valley seconds later. Before her, the endless sea of the Scourge filled the wide expanse of the valley all the way to the foothills of the mountains towering above The Bastion. The creatures of her nightmare howled into the storm winds, their voices rising up to greet her. The sound of the Scourge crying out sent chills flowing down her back, her muscles seizing, and she forced a deep breath into her lungs. It was difficult to see them and not remember the terrible day that she had lost Ryan and almost her own life.

The virus that had brought back the dead also did a superb job of preserving them. Though many of the Scourge wore the grievous injuries that had killed them, they still retained a startlingly—fresh appearance. Wounds still wept blood and their flesh was remarkably free of decay. They looked disgusting, smelled rank, but were not rotting. They were dead, feral corpses that could survive the extreme heat of the summer and the terrible cold of the winter. The ISPV was potent and horrible in its power over the dead.

Swallowing hard, Maria hurried past the silent Maelstrom Platforms toward her post.

“Fucking goddamn Scrags,” Special Constable Kurt Jameson grumbled next to her as they took up their positions.

“Same old, same old. Never changes,” Maria answered, understanding his frustration all too well. It felt fruitless to stand on the walls day after day and stare down at the monsters humanity had become.

Jameson made a big show of hocking up a wad of phlegm, leaning over the rail, and spitting at the upturned faces far below. The action disgusted Maria and she averted her gaze. Beneath her, the Scourge howled and raged.

“Man, I wish we could just unload on them. Just fire away, watch their f*ckin’ heads explode. Instead, we gotta just stand here so the civvies feel we’re doing something to protect them. It’s all show, Vanguard. I signed up to kill me some goddamn zombies,” Jameson said, resorting to outdated slang to describe the Scourge. He was bitter that right after he had joined the armed forces the brass had clamped down on ammunition expenditures. The stores were running low with no way of replenishment.

“Hey, you know we’re not supposed to use that word,” Maria chastised him. “And we do what we gotta for the people we serve. It makes them feel comfortable and safe to see us up here.”

Jameson shook his head with agitation. His face was young and handsome under his visor with strong cheekbones, a square jawline, and large brown eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. Fastening his intense gaze on her, he said, “You got to see action. You’re one of the lucky ones. You actually got to kill some of them.”

“The final campaign was a failure,” she said tersely.

“Yeah, but it was an all-out assault on the Scrags right outside the wall. The engineers almost got the perimeter up before you got swarmed.”

“And causalities were high,” Maria reminded him, trying not to lose her temper. “I was lucky to get airlifted. I still have nightmares.” Her voice sounded harsh, but she couldn’t help it. So many had died in the fruitless push against the Scrags.

“We should just open fire on them. Kill them all.” Jameson waved at the masses of Scourge reaching toward them. Sometimes they would push up against the walls, crushing the bodies of their undead comrades into pulp. “I don’t know why they keep holding us back.”