“What about keeping a few of Edison’s crew alive? That was the plan.”
“With all due respect, sir, maybe the plan needs to change?”
“Go on. Explain."
“If the worst thing that happens is we get out of here alive, but lose all the prisoners in the process, is that really such a bad thing?”
“It would set us back a bit.”
“At least we’d still be on this side of grass,” Dice said, craning his neck up at the concrete ceiling. “So to speak.”
Fletcher nodded, but didn’t respond.
“I don’t know about you, boss, but the last place I’d ever expect to buy it would be in a place like this,” Dice said, pointing at the corridor ahead. “Not down here. Not at the hands of those things.”
“Or their teeth.”
“Exactly, sir. We need—” Dice said, stopping in mid-sentence when he heard what sounded like a thousand drums beating out of rhythm from each other.
“What the hell is that?” Fletcher asked.
Before Dice could respond, the hallway ahead filled with Scabs running in a sprint.
“Fall back!” Fletcher said, grabbing Dice and yanking him back.
Dice moved behind Fletcher and spun in reverse, just as his boss raised his rifle at the stampede headed their way.
Fletcher fired his weapon in short bursts, each round appearing to hit its mark, spraying tissue and blood across the walls and floor.
Dice was about to stop and join the fight, but his boss turned to him and said, “Go. Now. I’ll cover you.”
“But sir—”
Fletcher began fast walking in reverse, as he released the spent magazine from his rifle. He snatched a replacement from his tactical vest and jammed it into the lower receiver, then pulled the charging bolt back and let it snap forward. He swung his head around again, making eye contact. “That’s an order, Dice. Double-time it. Hurry.”
That’s when Dice remembered the whistle. He kept his feet moving backwards as Fletcher’s shooting continued. Dice snatched the chain from his chest and brought the whistle to his mouth.
He pulled the instructions from his pocket and opened the fold, but couldn’t seem to focus his eyes. Everything on the list was a jumbled mess.
“Ah, fuck it,” he said, unleashing his mouth to blow with abandon. He tried short bursts and long blasts, then mixed them together, but the Scabs didn’t stop.
Fletcher kept firing too, but the horde never slowed, despite all the head shots.
Dice tugged on the back of Fletcher’s shirt. “We gotta run. Now.”
* * *
Stipple got to his feet after hearing the rattle of gunfire, followed by a slew of whistles. He knew the commands well, but whoever was blowing wasn’t issuing any of them.
“Damn it, all they had to do was follow instructions.”
He marched forward, figuring the pair of dumbasses had confused his army. Now he’d have to intervene and somehow control the situation.
Just as he made it to the middle of the corridor, an explosion rocked the walls and floor.
The compression wave slammed into him, making him stumble sideways. His shoulder crashed into the wall, then he bounced off the cement and dropped to the floor on his knees.
It took a few moments to shake off the pain. When he brought his head up, he saw a fireball filling the hallway at the far end, its flames billowing ahead in a tumble.
“Oh shit,” he yelled, turning and running in a sprint.
CHAPTER 3
Summer Lane ran ahead of her Security Chief, Krista Carr, as they tore down a corridor in the silo. Eight strides later, they made a turn into the video room.
Liz was a few steps behind them, her legs carrying her at a slower pace.
“What do you have?” Krista asked the man sitting in front of a metal desk with three video monitors perched on it, all of them filled with black.
He pointed at the middle screen and answered with a charge in his lungs. “Scabs.”
“Are you sure?” Krista asked, leaning in and fiddling with the power button.
“Affirmative, main entrance. Only caught a glimpse before the feeds went dark.”
“How many?” Summer asked, not willing to wait for Krista to ask the next question.
“At least six, but could be more.”
Wicks arrived with the prisoner, Doc Lipton, who was still in the guard’s clutch.
Wicks shoved Lipton forward, making the scientist stumble to keep himself upright.
“Let me guess, more technical difficulties?” Lipton said after his legs came to a halt. He stared at the empty video monitors. “Gee, there’s a shock.”
“Screens just blanked out,” the tech said. “But I counted at least six in the main entrance.”
“Six what?” Lipton asked.
“Scabs, I think.”
“Did you actually see them or is that a guess?” Krista asked.
“A little of both, ma’am. Only saw them for a split second.”
“Helena will be pleased,” Lipton said in a snide tone, almost as if he wasn’t surprised. “Or terrified, depending on which motivational factors you prefer to believe.”
Before anyone could respond, the screen on the left changed from all black to a blurry brown, as if someone were trying to sharpen the signal on a distant object.
“What the hell?” the tech asked.
Lipton raised an eyebrow. “Looks like the surprises just keep coming.”
“Wait a minute,” Krista said, pointing as the sharpness of the image improved. The outline of a figure appeared in more detail. “Is that a mask?”
“And a coat?” Lipton added, the tip of his finger tracing an outline on the monitor’s glass.
Summer leaned forward, her chin just short of resting on the video tech’s shoulder. She watched the figure move along the wall in a methodical scoot-and-hold manner, carrying something in his arms. Three steps later, the camera found a more revealing focus, giving her a better view of the figure’s tall silhouette.
When the intruder moved again, she saw a flash of metal hanging from its sides. Plus, she could now see others in the hallway. Five, to be exact.
A wave of understanding crashed into Summer’s brain just as Krista said, “Nomad?”
“Gee, ya think?” Lipton said.
Summer couldn’t believe her eyes. “What’s he doing here? With a bunch of Scabs, no less? God, I hate those things.”
“Actually, they appear to be girls. Scab girls,” the tech said, playing with the control stick in front of him. The video feed changed to show a crystal-clear image as it swung around and zoomed in, showing a close-up of one of the Scabs standing near Nomad. Her skin was weathered and full of wrinkles, sagging at the corners of her mouth.
“Actually, not girls. Women,” Liz added, her chest pumping hard for air when she arrived.
“Well, maybe some of them,” Summer said, pointing to the younger Scab that Nomad held in his arms. “Looks like she’s hurt.”
“Or it’s some kind of trick,” Wicks added.
Summer turned to the video tech. “Can you pull back all the way? I want to see exactly what they’re doing.”
“How the hell did he find us?” Krista asked while the tech adjusted the control stick again.