The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(21)

Rooney reached her position and signaled for him to stop. He nodded and prepared to take the lives of yet more of his squad.

A single gunshot startled both of them. Rooney’s eyes widened slightly.

“Hungry,” Goodwin screamed. “Hungry!”

Rooney lifted her fingers and counted down.

As soon as she reached zero, Torran shot upward and aimed at where the voice of his former comrade had come from. His finger stilled on the trigger. The light from his weapon illuminated Goodwin. Her helmet was gone and her short red hair clung to her round cheeks. The young woman leaned over Jonas, tearing at his neck with her fingers. Ripping flesh from his body, she stuffed it into her mouth, rocking back and forth in anguish.

“What the f*ck?” Lindsey was clearly disturbed, but she hadn’t seen Cormier’s body.

Torran darted around Lindsey and onto the old sidewalk. Goodwin continued to weep and feast on her bloody meal. Her weapon dangled at her side.

“You want me to do this, don’t you?” Torran called, aiming at her.

Goodwin didn’t answer, but stuffed more strips of meat into her crimson mouth. She hadn’t wanted to be a Scrag. She’d vowed to never let them get her. Yet, here she was: not only dead and transformed, but worse than an ordinary Scrag. Bright red eyes turned toward him, the blood smeared across her face bright in the light cast by his weapon.

Torran heard Rooney limping to his side. He kept his weapon trained on Goodwin, but struggled to pull the trigger.

“It’s the kind thing to do,” Rooney said.

Pressing his lips together, Torran aimed for the center of Rooney’s still child-like face. She was so young. Only eighteen.

“There’s no cure, MacDonald, and this is worse... far worse than just being a Scrag.”

Again, he and Rooney were of the same mind. It gave him some comfort that she understood how hard it was for him to pull the trigger.

“Sorry, Goodwin,” he said sorrowfully.

He pulled the trigger.

Goodwin’s body fell with a thump.

Rooney lightly touched his shoulder, then shambled past him. She was obviously in great discomfort, but she moved with purpose, her weapon at the ready.

Torran followed.

Reaching the bodies, Rooney went very still. “Very different from regular Scrags. Their eyes...”

“Yeah.”

Rooney slightly bobbed her helmet. He could see her lips moving and knew she was talking to the Constabulary. She finished, then turned her attention back to him. “You’ll have to destroy the bodies.”

“Okay, but how?”

“We have flamethrowers. We’re fixing the inventory so one of them will become a lost weapon of the final push. If you’re asked, say you got the weapon off of one of the Abscrags. Understand?”

Torran stared into her eyes and saw only steely determination. He appreciated that in the face of such terrible circumstances. It kept him from sinking into the mire of his own thoughts. “Yes, I do.”

“Your squad should be destroyed, too, but...” Rooney sighed. “You probably should keep close to the subway station and not try to track down all the bodies.”

“Destroy them, too? Why? Oh, you’re concerned about...” He lifted an eyebrow. “Ah. Samples.”

Rooney’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you say that?”

“Burning specific bodies. Wanting my squad destroyed, too. Seems like you don’t want the SWD getting a hold of tissue samples. Of the variations of the virus.”

Giving him a scrutinizing sidelong look, before looking toward the high walls of The Bastion, Rooney exhaled.

The mountain range encircling the vast valley made even The Bastion seem small, yet it was home. The only home they had.

“I won’t say more.” Torran bent down and removed the weapons from both bodies.

“Do you think she understood you were going to kill her?” Rooney was staring at the body of Goodwin.

“Yeah,” Torran replied. “I think she did.”

“But she wasn’t herself anymore.”

“That’s the hell of it. I think a piece of her was still in there.”

A dark shape emerged from the subway entrance. It was Hobbes.

“Linds, we good?”

“That’s Vanguard Rooney to you, and yes, we’re good. Keep watch. We got bodies to deal with.”

“Linds...” Torran glanced down at Rooney. “Lindsey?”

“That’s Vanguard Rooney to you, too.” She hesitated, then gave him an unexpected smile. “But, yeah, it’s Lindsey, Master Seeker MacDonald.”

“Torran MacDonald.”

“Good to meet you, Torran.” She held out her hand to him.

Torran shook it, then lifted his eyes. “It’s nearly over.”

“The battle?”

“The night.”

Together, they gazed toward the thin line of pale blue sky spreading beyond the high mountain tops.

“Then let’s finish and go home, Torran.”





Chapter 7


Lindsey didn’t like leaving Torran behind. The man had suffered incredible losses and had spent a good portion of his night attempting to survive. Watching him speak with SWD command on his wristlet, she leaned against the walls lining the stairwell. The pain radiating up and down her leg was almost unbearable. Torran stood at the top of the stairs, Hobbes and Giacomi keeping watch for stray Scrags. Franklin sat on the wall watching the tiny specs in the air circling in the far distance. The tiltrotors were starting to pick up the ground troops. It was almost time for Lindsey and her squad to go home.