The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(76)

“Pallet is loaded! Transport lifting off,” Torran exclaimed.

The tiltrotor was eighteen meters away, holding position as the transport ascended. The horde of Scrags was approaching fast, but still weren’t in firing distance. Several aerial drones flew past Lindsey and her feed updated to reveal the Scrags rounding the building’s corner and running at full speed after the squad. There were so many undead the shock of the sight stole her breath for a second. Another drone, circling overhead, revealed a terrifying sight. Scrags were rushing toward the tiltrotor and the squad from every direction.

“Set her down!” the chief defender ordered.

The violent downdraft from the transport’s departure nearly knocked Lindsey off her feet. Someone caught her arm and pulled her upright. It was Torran. The expression in his eyes almost took her breath away with its ferocity. In that moment, she knew he’d do anything to keep her safe.

The tiltrotor’s extended legs touched the ground. The rear guns were silent, unable to fire yet since the squad was occupying the space between the Scrags and the tiltrotor.

The screech of the Scrags intensified as the transport flew over the complex and the sound of its engines diminished. In Lindsey’s head, she counted down the meters to the tiltrotor. The reek of the Scrags made her want to gag. All around her were the undead of every race, gender and age. All were screaming, all wanted to bite, all wanted to infect, and all were drawing closer.

The squad opened fire. In a phalanx, they faced outward, still moving, shooting at the Scrags. The undead were closing the gap far too fast.

“Go! Go! Go!” the chief defender ordered just as they reached the underbelly of the tiltrotor.

The guns on the tiltrotor discharged in a thunderous roar. The higher caliber weapons reduced the edge of the Scrag horde to bits of mush. Lindsey kept shooting, her firearm jolting her wounded arm. It didn’t hurt, but her aim was off. The screeching, twisted, rabid faces of the Scrags filled her vision. Many were half-naked from years of exposure to the elements, but the virus had retained their nearly lifelike appearance. The dirty, murderous creatures had no fear and ran into the barrage of bullets fired by the tiltrotor.

The squad scrambled up the ramp into the aircraft. Lindsey was one of the last to clamber up into the tiltrotor just as it ascended. The Scrags leaped for the retracting ramp and the doors started to close. Lindsey fired at one trying to lunge for her. She saw its face disintegrate just as the doors thumped shut. Sagging against the closed exit, she watched the feed from the aerial drones as they caught up to the tiltrotor and attached to it. The Scrags filled the area, howling at the retreating aircraft. There would be no coming back to this location. It was completely overrun. The remaining food stores were a loss.

Lindsey closed her eyes and listened to her heavy breathing inside her suit.

“...returning to The Bastion. No fatalities. No infections...” the chief Defender’s voice was saying.

Swiveling about, Lindsey walked on shaking legs to her console. Torran was already at his, but his concentration was on his readouts. Collapsing into her seat, she looked down at her arm. Where the Scrag had bitten her armor were deep indentations.





Chapter 22


The hours after their arrival at The Bastion were chaotic and a bit of a blur. The squad had to go through decontamination and endure a thorough scan before being allowed out of the hanger. She was ISPV free, but bruised. Dr. Curran personally administered a few shots to speed up the healing. Though her arm was already feeling much better, her nerves were frayed. Had the Scrag been able to bite through the armor, she’d be dead.

Lindsey’s stealth suit was claimed by the SWD Sci-Techs for examination, and she was glad to be rid of it.

The debriefing was long and tiring. The chief defender, Torran, and Lindsey were immediately separated. The officers in charge of the questioning were thorough, but she disliked their tone when they discussed the food containers left behind. Throughout the process, she’d wanted to tell them to go out and get the containers themselves if they were so convinced they’d been retrievable, but she held her tongue.

Six hours after her return, she was finally given a protein bar and a bag of water and sent back to her quarters. She still hadn’t seen anyone else from the mission. It aggravated her that they’d performed a great deed for The Bastion but were made to feel almost like failures due to a truncated raid.

It was difficult to believe it was merely mid-afternoon when she trudged across the quad to her dorm room. She’d been tempted to go to Torran’s flat, but she doubted he was there. The comm on their wristlets had been switched off upon their return to prevent them from discussing the mission and contaminating their points of view. Though she could hack hers, Torran’s was still off.

When she entered her tiny dorm room, she yanked off her boots and sprawled across the bed. Shaking, Lindsey endured the aftermath of the adrenaline rush that had kept her moving throughout the day. What was worse, her mind turned out alternate outcomes to the excursion. It was almost as if she couldn’t quite accept they’d all survived. Images of Scrag faces assaulted her mind’s eye, and the sound of their screeches haunted her hearing. Her stomach was a quivering mess and tears obscured her vision. No one had died, and no one had been seriously injured, but they’d come so close to failure.

Eventually, she drifted off into a light sleep filled with nightmare creatures that truly did exist.