The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(16)

Of course the Abscrags following him were undeterred by such things. He could hear them closing in again.

Already, he’d stopped twice to thin the herd chasing him. The numbers of those hunting him weren’t diminishing, but swelling. It wasn’t only the undead members of his squad he had to worry about now, but regular Scrags, too. The long undead creatures rushed out of the dark to join their comrades in their mission to capture and infect him.

At least, Torran assumed they wanted to infect him. After seeing Reese eating Goodwin’s flesh and the awful remains of Cormier’s body, he wasn’t too sure anymore. The Inferi Scourge weren’t supposed to be cannibals, but carriers. Something had gone wrong and created the Abscrags.

There wasn’t a sign of Alkan and Reese yet, but he had no doubt they were in pursuit. He’d been fortunate enough to get a head start on the smartest and deadliest of the Abscrags, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep ahead.

Again Torran halted long enough to take down the nearest creatures. This time, his shots killed regular Scrags and just one of his former squad members. It was easier to slay the ones whose faces he didn’t recognize.

Sprinting, he saw the entrance to the subway looming ahead, a concrete structure with broken vid screens on the side facing the road. It was a gray block against the desolate landscape. Low barrier walls framed the exiting stairs.

Torran’s mind spewed out ideas: maybe he could climb on top and fire down at the Scrags; maybe he could take cover behind the low wall and kill all of them before the most dangerous Abscrags caught up: or maybe he should just save a bullet for himself.

His wristlet chimed and he swiftly swiped the screen.

“Master Seeker MacDonald, this is Commandant Pierce. Proceed to the subway station entrance. A Constabulary squad dispatched to the area will assist in eliminating the Inferi Scourge.”

“Yes, sir!”

Relief flooded him, though it was a shock to hear the voice of the highest-ranking officer in the Constabulary. The last time he’d seen the formidable commandant was when she’d pinned a medal on his chest before he retired.

“Once the situation is under control, you will wait for evac by the SWD.”

There was a hint of a warning in her voice that made it clear that something was irregular about the situation. Torran knew from his debriefing that none of the Constabulary forces were included in clearing of the valley, so the fact that grunts were in the area was probably unknown by the SWD command. If that was the case, it meant the commandant wanted him to keep his mouth shut. Considering that it was the Constabulary coming to his rescue and not the SWD, he had no problem complying with her wishes.

“Understood,” he answered, huffing along.

“Very well.”

The connection ended.

Dragging in deep breaths of humid, bitter air, Torran fired at a Scrag charging at him from behind one of the bins flanking the road. The bullets struck the gruesome creatures shoulder, but it didn’t falter. Snagging another clip from his bag, he ejected the spent one from his weapon with his other hand. The Scrag, a male with short dark hair and a thick gray beard, charged him again. Torran was just slamming the new clip home when a bullet sheared off the top of the Scrag’s head and sent the being spinning about before another bullet found its mark and killed it.

Whipping about, Torran saw four Constabulary soldiers positioned in the entrance of the subway station. The blast doors creaked closed behind them. One soldier stood close to the overgrown pathway, shooting any Scrag daring to emerge from the murky landscape.

On a second rush of adrenaline, Torran sprinted the last few meters to join the group. The tall one firing at the Scrags with impressive accuracy was a woman with very dark skin and dark eyes. She didn’t even glance at him as he leaped over the low wall and landed on the steps.

“Master Seeker, good to see you,” a woman with vanguard pips on her armor said with the flash of a smile behind her faceplate. Her voice sounded a little odd coming through the exterior speaker of her helmet and he detected one of the accents from the Isles.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you, sir,” he answered breathlessly.

“Approaching horde of indeterminate number arriving in two minutes,” a man said, then added to Torran, “You got a procession following you.”

“I could’ve done without the escort.” Torran slid his pack off and opened it so he could easily remove his last clips. Grabbing a pouch of water, he tore off the top and gulped it down. Torran spotted the nameplate on the commanding officer’s armor: Rooney. It explained the lilt in her voice.

“Give the situation status.” The woman in charge stared at him. The faint light from her helmet readouts illuminated her features, revealing a grim line to her full lips and incredible hazel eyes.

“The Abscrags...which are thinking Scrags—”

“I know what they are,” Vanguard Rooney interjected.

Torran regarded her in surprise. “Oh, well, they have electroshock rifles.”

“From a downed tiltrotor,” Rooney said with a nod.

“So that’s how they got them. When my squad split up to cover the area, the Abscrags used the rifles to immobilize them. Then they infected them.”

“One bite is all it takes,” Rooney muttered. “So even though they’re… Abscrags… they still want to infect?”