The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(6)

“Keep alert,” Rosario’s voice ordered.

She was right behind him and her presence was reassuring.

Rushing into the darkness toward the facility, the squad kept together in a tight formation as the tiltrotors soared into the starry sky. The finality of their departure uncurled a ribbon of dread within Torran. Swallowing hard, he kept focused on the task the squad needed to perform. Securing the area was of vital importance.

The Scrags erupted out of the trees lining the fissured asphalt that had once been a parking area. Torran aimed and pulled the trigger of his weapon. The slight jolt as it discharged was almost as reassuring as the Scrags tumbled to the ground.

The search and destroy squad hit the downed fence line and Torran glanced toward the rundown building looming before them. It had been built to last a century, so the foundation and walls were still upright, though covered in dense vines. The reinforced windows in the front had deep gouges burrowed into the thick glass. The openings, surrounded by a latticework of cracks and edged with greenery, were large enough for a human to crawl through. The Abscrags must have used their makeshift weapons to punch through.

“They’re inside,” Rosario said in a grim tone.

“We should have known this wasn’t going to be easy. Check the guard posts outside the mine,” he instructed Rosario. “Then make sure the mine doors are still secure.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered. “At least the mine doesn’t have windows.” She gave him a brief smile behind her faceplate before switching her comm to speak only to those in her party. It was disconcerting to see the life signs of half his people wink out of his display, but they were Rosario’s responsibility now until the squad reformed.

Immediately, Rosario and half of the squad peeled off to race toward the small building near the massive steel doors. They’d performed this mission maybe a hundred times in the training rooms, but this was far different from the holographic images projected in the safety of the SWD Facility.

The Scrags continued to appear out of the murk, hurtling toward the force with only one intention: to infect. The harsh bark of weapons firing overpowered the screech of the Scrags. Torran kept his focus on their objective, moving swiftly to the entrance of the building with his people at his back while thinning out the undead. The Scrags were drawn to the humans like bugs to lights, so it was easy to decrease their numbers with short bursts of gunfire.

The Inferi Scourge looked just as Torran remembered: like frightfully wounded human beings. So many people had died in the initial outbreaks when they’d perceived the Scrags to be victims of violence, not actual monsters, and they paid a terrible price when they’d rushed to offer assistance. The virus froze the bodies at the moment of death, and only milky, vacant eyes gave away to their undead nature. The virus could simulate life, but not the soul.

“Open it,” he ordered when he reached the heavy metal door.

Jonas darted forward, a key-hacker in his hand. Pressing the device over the locking mechanism, he swiftly activated it. The key-hacker fed just enough electricity into the lock to allow Jonas to enter the access code. There was a loud, audible click as the tumblers inside the door sluggishly whirled into motion after years of disuse. Jonas disengaged the key-hacker and dodged around Torran while stuffing it in his pack.

The door retracted, revealing a long corridor. Weapons at the ready, the squad advanced at Torran’s signal. The night vision created an eerie environment for them to traverse. The Inferi Scourge were room temperature, so they were very difficult to spot if they remained still. Torran was very uneasy about the whole scenario. He’d worked diligently to shape the SWD security forces into actual soldiers, but experienced Constabulary soldiers would’ve been better for the job. If only the SWD had allowed the Constabulary to participate in the clearing of the valley. Torran worried that the SWD’s small security force didn’t contain the personnel needed to do the job. He wasn’t privy to what exactly was going on between the SWD and Constabulary hierarchies, but he sure as hell wished they’d found a way to collaborate on the strangely named Operation Cleansing Waves.

Probably Admiral Kirkpatrick had come up with the name. The elderly soldier was so well respected, he’d been allowed to keep his rank from his pre-Bastion days. He’d been in a navy and led one of the last human armadas before it had to be abandoned due the difficulties of maintaining a healthy community on the sea.

The first room the group encountered was in the front of the building near the broken windows. Years of exposure to the elements had rotted the broken office furniture and allowed nature to creep inside. The walls were covered in thick vines and a carpet of mildew made the floor slick beneath the soles of their boots. The squad warily sidled into the room, cautious of the many hiding places. The sensors were struggling to pick up readings, and the information scrolling on Torran’s helmet screen didn’t inspire confidence. There were blanks in many of the entries.

“Trust your eyes more than your feed,” he instructed.

Torran approached the far wall, the muzzle of his large weapon aimed at the tangle of vines. This would be a great place for the Abscrags to attack. Goodwin edged forward and dragged a huge swatch of the leafy curtain to one side with one rapid tug while Torran prepared to fire. There was nothing hiding behind the vines except a wall covered in mold. Around the room, the rest of the squad followed the same procedure. Each time the vines were drawn to one side, Torran’s heart beat a little harsher.