The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(89)

“Then that’s where we’ll head.” Lifting her chin, Lindsey stared up at the platform rising high over their heads. Tall, glittering buildings resided upon it. Other platforms were scattered over the old city, each one connected to the others by bridges. The impressive structures were engineering marvels.

“Franklin, good job. Now get off there before that suit shits out,” Torran added. “Your time is almost up.”

Franklin slid into the water, careful not to make noise or cause a big splash.

It absolutely gutted Lindsey that she and Franklin were the only survivors of the crashed tiltrotor. After Lindsey’s own escape from the aircraft, she’d wanted to swim down and search for survivors, but Torran and Franklin had stopped her. The tiltrotor was sinking into the mire, and there was the possibility that she could be trapped as the wreckage settled. She didn’t want to think about the bodies of the squad in the darkness below her. Hobbes was among them, and it hurt to think of losing yet another friend. They’d never have that drink now, and she’d never see his smile again. Just like Ryan and Maria, yet another friend was lost to the Scrags. It was Scrags that had destroyed the world and forced humanity to hide in The Bastion. If not for them, none of her friends would’ve died or have been infected, and she wouldn’t be trapped in a city filled with the dead.

Lindsey glanced toward the right bank and the dark figures racing through the refuse of the long abandoned world. The undead appeared terrifyingly close. As Franklin swam to the commanding officers, her suit returned to normal.

“Anyone know if Scrags like water?” Franklin asked.

“We’re just lucky the other tiltrotor grabbed their attention and drew them away,” Torran replied.

“So that means they’ll go into the water,” Franklin said with a flinch. “Great.”

“We’ll just need to be cautious,” Lindsey replied. She’d seen vids of Scrags rushing into bodies of water to pursue prey. The undead beings didn’t appear to know how to swim, but that didn’t mean they weren’t a threat. She was uneasy being in the murky river waters. It was not difficult to imagine Scrags beneath her feet reaching up to grab her.

“I say we swim straight up the middle of the river and go as fast as we can with the stealth off,” Torran said, his voice clipped. “Once we hit the stairwell to the street, we need to activate our stealth suits because then we’ll be in plain view.”

“What’s our destination?” Lindsey tilted her head, trying to catch a glimpse of him through her helmet visor.

“The upper city and any place up there that’s safe,” Torran answered somberly.

“They’re as likely to be up there as they are down here,” Lindsey pointed out.

“Not to sound like I’m overriding you, sir,” Franklin said, “but higher ground is always best, right?”

“Yes, yes it is,” Lindsey agreed.

It wasn’t as if she wanted to stay on the ground level of the city, but the climb would be treacherous, since the old technology was no longer operational. Of course, the entire scenario was dangerous.

“Let’s move. We need to find shelter by nightfall.” Torran pushed off, gliding through the water so only the top of his helmet was visible.

Lindsey released her grip on the tiltrotor wing and sank into the water. She was glad that the SWD suit was not as heavy as her old Constabulary one. Though she had to pump her arms a little harder to keep her eyes above the water, she managed to keep up with Torran’s pace as she glided along the surface. The helmet registered her oxygen levels, and she only had to push just a little out of the water to allow the helmet to suck in more air and release the carbon dioxide. Franklin followed behind her, weighted down by the weapons she’d attached to her armor, but she was stronger than Lindsey and easily kept pace.

The screeching of the Scrags continued to echo as she swam, the sound piercing through her already tortured head. The headache was now behind her eyes and nearly unbearable. It had been ages since she’d had a migraine, but this one was determined to manifest. The changing weather was only contributing to her agony. The sky was overcast and the clouds were low and gray. The chief defender had mentioned a snowstorm and Lindsey wondered how much time they had before it reached the city. Hopefully they’d find shelter with access to an emergency generator so she could attempt access to the city grid. Without the constant feed that usually flowed across the sides of her helmet, she was a bit lost.

A footbridge spanned the river ahead. Scrags darted across it, agitated by the aircraft and the crash. The soldiers would have to swim under it to reach the stairwell.

Torran sank beneath the waves. Lindsey warily dove after him and didn’t surface until she was shrouded in the darkness beneath the arch. It was frightening to be engulfed in the gloom while hearing the cries of Scrags rushing over the bridge. Maybe it was the shock of the collision, her impending migraine, or the weight of her armor and weapon, but Lindsey realized she was starting to fall behind. She fumbled with her wristlet and hailed Torran, but he didn’t answer. Kicking harder, she managed to close the gap between them again. Again, she messaged Torran, hoping he’d answer. Silence was the only response.

When she swam out from beneath the bridge, relief flooded her to be in sunlight, but only for a split second.

There was a loud splash and Lindsey spun about in the water in alarm. Immediately, her comm hissed to life.