Better still if we rendered it to a pile of rubble and removed it from the equation altogether.
Taylor turned to me. “The question is, when?”
That he asked was something. I was more aware than ever after this recent acquisition that the man who called himself a King was not someone who took the time to ask anyone anything.
The troops were going to fucking hate me pressing forward with this tonight, but it needed to be done. After a long, intense week of sporadic sleep and brutal fighting, much of it hand-to-hand, everyone was exhausted. But we were close to the end of the operation, and we all needed some proper rest. “Tonight. It’s not going to take a lot to pop the door cannons. The quicker this is over with, the better.”
Not that life would be easy after this. There would be pockets of resistance, and constant patrolling of the new territory needed until it stabilized. But once Sanctuary was dealt with, we could withdraw the heavy artillery.
“Keep me informed.” Approval given, Taylor turned to leave the rooftop, his silent bodyguards falling into position around him.
The battered metallic roof door rattled shut behind them.
Resigned, I tapped my ear communicator. “All units blue team, we are moving to GF64. Target is a civilian enclave, Sanctuary. Position outside defensive range, and await orders.”
The stained concrete walls of Sanctuary looked somber in the night sky. The old data center was mostly windowless, and the only way in or out was the front entrance. Oppressive for its inhabitants, challenging for anyone trying to get in. Nothing moved down there. But as I looked beyond, the heavy artillery came sweeping around the corner at the far end of the street. It felt improbable that these isolated communities survived the surrounding conflict. Certainly, this would not be the first time the city block around it had changed hands. Still, this was the first time that the whole city had come together under a single leader, and while at present that leadership may be tremulous, Taylor’s history of conquest suggested it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
CHAPTER THREE
Nora
THE HARSH DRONE of an alarm sounded throughout the former data center. Jodi and our small combat-trained contingent had returned yesterday after finding a small window in the fighting. Now, she stood beside Mary and me, glaring at the single monitor feed that miraculously continued to function despite the bombardment.
A heavy thud-thud of outbound fire came from the two defense cannons that protected the front entrance. They were taking the kind of explosive hammering that could not be sustained for long, and the whole building rumbled from inbound fire, completing a chaotic symphony of terror.
It was only a matter of time before we were breached.
So far, all our defense had achieved was the destruction of a small armored vehicle, which I was sure was a fuck-up on the part of a tired soldier since it had entered the cannon range. Stupidly, I worried that someone might have gotten hurt, maybe killed. You’d think after seventeen years of this shit, I’d have grown harder. I didn’t want them in here. I wanted them far away from me and mine, but I didn’t want them dead either.
The smaller guns that focused on the soldiers had been knocked out instantly. In fairness to our protection, it was only intended to deter the lawless outsiders who were uncoordinated at best. A few blasts usually discouraged anyone poking their nose around the entrance. It was clear from the scale of the attack that a big player had decided to end Sanctuary.
“What do they want with us?” Mary demanded.
No one answered.
The scene revealed via the single monitor was the product of nightmares. So many troops it was crazy the way they had converged on little old us. A show of force? They were killing a cockroach with a grenade.
We all had a place in the new world. Couldn’t they leave us alone?
Tracer fire and bullets sprayed across the dark sky, the aim centered on the two encased cannons that braced Sanctuary’s entrance. Their shields were crumbling critically—they wouldn’t last much longer.
“Shut them off,” I said flatly, a sense of resignation enveloping me.
“What? Are you fucking crazy?” Jodi demanded. She had been one of Sanctuary’s founders and I understood her conflict.
“They’re going to fail anyway.” I wasn’t presenting anything revolutionary here. “It’s over, Jodi. We all know it.” I held her steady glare. We had to face facts.
It was me who looked away first, my focus shifting to the room beyond the glass partition where Rachel paced with Adam in her arms. The little nine-year-old orphan had an uncanny ability to soothe the crying child. Adam had been screaming when the attack first began. Now, he was miraculously asleep despite the horrendous noise, exhaustion winning out.
“She’s right,” Mary said. “All we’re doing is delaying the inevitable and pissing them off. The cannons won’t last. I’ve not seen anything on this scale for a decade or more. If they wanted in the rough way, we’d be breached already. Look at their weapons.” She jabbed a finger at the monitor. “That’s professional gear. If it comes to close fighting, then we’re all dead. If we offer our surrender, we have a chance.”
“A chance?” Jodi spat back bitterly.
“There’s nothing more final than dead, Jodi. Anything else is a bonus,” Mary said tiredly, words that had become a mantra of sorts. How many times had I heard her say that exact phrase? Too many. “We’re all survivors here. Survivors know when to fight and when to lay down and look whipped.”
Jodi’s sharp gaze settled on the monitor feed. “I can’t believe you let Ava leave. What the fuck were you thinking?”
For all I could be blunt, I didn’t do anger anymore. I was weak compared to Jodi, and in the new world, strength counted as much as intelligence, perhaps more. Jodi lacked neither but was blinded to reason because Ava was missing. But my son… I could get angry for my son.
Supplies of the medication Adam needed had been sketchy for two months. Although manufacturing had sprung up in some of the larger communities during the intervening years, it didn’t always trickle through to the suppliers outside. Jodi and the team had been far from Sanctuary searching for alternative supplies. Then they’d gotten cut off, and the local supplier had sent a message to say they’d received limited numbers. It was first come, first served. The injection lasted a month, but Adam was already overdue. “We needed supplies. We still need supplies. It’s been a week since Adam had his last dose. We didn’t know where the fuck you all were. Didn’t know whether you would be coming back. We had to do something.”
My voice broke at the end. I was so fucking helpless and useless, but my baby needed meds. I was crumbling inside and holding myself together by the barest thread. I didn’t know what would happen next. If we didn’t yield, maybe they would move on. Or perhaps they would storm the place, killing us all. I thought that unlikely given they were targeting only the cannons rather than bombarding the whole building. But selfishly, I thought they might have the medication my son needed. And damn, I’d barter my last breath and freedom to give my baby a chance.
We were all hurting. The lines on Jodi’s face reflected all I felt. It was hard to let go and admit defeat. “She’ll keep herself safe.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince myself or Jodi. “We won’t help her by getting ourselves killed, and if she’s watching, then hopefully she’ll follow our lead. We’re out of options, Jodi, you know we are.” I spoke earnestly and tried to see past my own selfish needs.