The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(8)

“What the hell?” Jonas breathed.

“Sir?” Goodwin said in a fearful voice, falling in beside Torran.

Torran switched frequencies. “Englert and Argento, report in.” These were the names of the two leaders of the smaller groups he’d sent off.

Again, no answer.

But the readout continued to register them as alive.

“Sir, why aren’t they answering?” Jonas asked, his voice raspy.

Beside Torran, Goodwin switched to full auto on her weapon. Torran and Jonas followed suit.

A second later, all the readouts altered to read KIA on all his missing people.





Chapter 3


It had been a long time since Lindsey had worn Constabulary body armor. After the failed final push against the Inferi Scourge and her injury, she’d been trapped at a communications console. It felt strangely good to be back in the old, bulky suit. Securing her helmet, she watched the display light up on the facemask.

“Testing comm,” she said.

“I hear you,” Petra’s voice answered.

“Squad sound off,” Lindsey ordered, glancing toward the three Constabulary soldiers suiting up with her in the prep room.

“Hobbes reporting, Vanguard Rooney,” the big man with the blond hair and ice blue eyes said.

“Giacomi reporting, Vanguard Rooney,” came the husky voice of the woman with the black eyes, raven hair, and burn scars along the side of her face and neck.

“Franklin reporting, Vanguard Rooney,” was the call out from the tall, powerfully built black woman with gold-flecked brown eyes and a shaved head.

Lindsey cut the comm long enough to say, “Bitches.”

The three laughed.

“You’re the one who went and got herself promoted,” Hobbes teased, then winked.

“Always an overachiever,” Franklin agreed.

Giacomi blew Lindsey a kiss.

“I’m your commanding officer now, so I’d like to see a little respect,” she said, but knew she would have to endure a certain amount of ribbing.

All three saluted.

She wasn’t certain if the action was mocking or not.

Though she wasn’t a part of their squad anymore, Lindsey knew the trio well enough to occasionally have drinks with them. They were all survivors of the failed push against the Inferi Scourge. They were war hero veterans, but their wounds hadn’t sidelined them like Lindsey’s had. Giacomi’s scars weren’t even from battle, but from a pot of boiling water she’d pulled off the stove when she’d been an inquisitive toddler.

Reopening the comm, Lindsey said, “Command, we’re on our way to the subway station.”

“We’re standing by to open them,” Petra replied.

Lindsey picked up her weapon, and then moved to pull out a flamethrower from the weapons locker. She already had the biohazard collapsible container in her backpack to bring back Denman’s remains.

Hobbes finished loading his bulky firearm and looked up. “Any chance of action down there?”

“Probably not,” Lindsey answered.

“Why do the squids get all the fun?” Giacomi asked while grabbing a flamethrower and hooking the strap to her armor.

At some point in time, the Constabulary had started calling the SWD security forces the squids. Lindsey supposed it was because Admiral Kirkpatrick, the man in charge of the SWD, had belonged to one of the old world navies. It had stuck through the years. Meanwhile, the Constabulary soldiers were called grunts.

Lindsey realized she couldn’t answer. The three soldiers in front of her had no idea of the internal struggle for power that was going on within The Bastion. “That’s just how the cards played out,” she said at last.

“So no chance in hell we’ll get to shoot something,” Franklin groused.

The thought of the Scrags or another smarter variation getting into the subway tunnels was something Lindsey didn’t even want to consider. “Probably not. I know you’re a bloodthirsty lot, but we’re basically just a clean-up crew.”

“It f*ckin’ sucks that the squids get to take care of the Scrags and not us,” Hobbes muttered. “It was our people we lost out there.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Franklin said, bobbing her head so the helmet caught the overhead light and the faceplate gleamed, obscuring her face.

For a second, Lindsey saw Maria, not Franklin, and her heart hurt. Dwayne would take care of her friend, one way or another.

“Let’s move out.”

It was embarrassing to have to use her cane while in her battle armor, but at least no one said anything as they departed the prep room and headed up the corridor to the elevator that would carry them down into the bowels of the Constabulary headquarters.

A private message popped up in the corner of Lindsey’s screen from Petra. She read it quickly:

There may be a problem. The SWD squad at the mining facility is taking heavy casualties.

Lindsey entered the elevator and pressed the screen for the lowest level. She also toggled the comm over to Petra. “Talk to me.”

“The squad is pinned down and it sounds like they’re in dire straits. The SWD is insisting they hold their position.”

“Dwayne could be in that area.”

“If he tries to return with Maria...”