Quake (44 page)

‘The answer to this question is a complicated one.’

‘Fucking try me,’ snapped Carter. Mongrel placed his hand on Carter’s arm, and Carter could sense his friend’s sudden fear. ‘You ask me to abandon my fucking woman. You ask me to let her fucking die and you will not give me an answer? Fuck you.’

‘I do not ask,’ said The Priest softly. ‘I tell.’

‘Tell?’

Carter laughed harshly and The Priest found himself staring down the Browning’s dark muzzle. ‘I think you need to give me some fucking answers, Holy Man - before I send you to meet the God that you claim created you.’

‘So be it,’ said The Priest softly, his eyes glittering. He sipped at his coffee, his huge frame relaxed in his seated position on the grass. Then he smiled, as if amused by some internal dialogue.

‘Carter, put the gun away.’

Carter ignored Mongrel.

‘Durell has machines that were built before our civilisation arose. One is the machine used to create the Nex, the Avelach. Another is the QuakeEngine - which is based on the design of the original machine found by the Nazis in 1940 and unlocked decades later by Spiral research teams led by Feuchter, Gol and Durell. These machines are thousands and thousands of years old and use archaic electronics similar to those of the machines we currently field, but they operate using different materials and superior processes. In truth, they are much more advanced than our own technological developments.’

‘Get to the fucking point.’

The Priest sipped at his sweet coffee once more, unperturbed by the Browning and the thirteen rounds in its magazine. ‘You seek the machine that will heal Natasha. Durell holds this machine - as he holds the QuakeHub. And yet he is in delicate negotiations with major world governments right now ... If you stumble in, firing off a thousand rounds of ammunition, and take this machine from Durell - or piss him off in some other unexpected way - you could accelerate proceedings. You could destroy the bridges that the politicians have worked so hard to build.’

‘You think I would start a war?’ said Carter incredulously.

‘Maybe unwillingly. We cannot antagonise Durell directly. You must put off this mission - at least for a couple of days. When the politicians - the governments of the world unite against this gigantic threat, and when the TankSquads start hitting the LVA mines, then events will escalate at a catastrophic rate ... But we cannot move until we are ready ... We are buying time, Carter, buying military muscle, and the last thing Spiral needs are loose cannons. I fear Durell has become too powerful even as we speak. We
need
this time ...’

‘In a few days Natasha may be dead.’

‘Then Natasha will be dead. She will be a casualty of war. Her fate is in the hands of God.’

‘Not my fucking God,’ said Carter brusquely. ‘There is something you’re not telling me, Priest. You’re holding out on me ... come on, who are the other players in this game?’ He waved the Browning towards The Priest’s face.

‘There are some factors of which I cannot speak. I can only repeat the direct order - which has come right from the top. Spiral is ordering you to abandon this mission -to
postpone
it, if you will - until you have the all-clear. If you choose to ignore this direct order then I have instructions to kill you.’ He glanced at Mongrel coolly. ‘And any who stand with you.’

Carter lifted his coffee and drained it.

‘I think that you should leave.’

The Priest climbed ponderously to his feet and stared at Carter. Hard. ‘I know it is a bitter pill to swallow, but trust me, Carter. There are things at work here that you could never understand. The doctors give favourable reports about Natasha’s progress - you may yet have the time to save her. But the world does not. It is a sacrifice that we must all make - it is what she would expect. What we would
all
expect. The sacrifice of one to save many ... Natasha is not divine, Carter. She cannot live for ever.’

‘You have no idea what you ask,’ whispered Carter.

‘I do,’ said The Priest gently, his gaze softening. ‘Don’t make me come looking for you, Carter. Don’t make me hunt you down - it would be a waste of a good man. One of the best we have.’

The Priest turned and lumbered towards the trail. There he met Roxi, and they exchanged quiet words. The Priest disappeared behind the house and they heard an engine fire up.

Roxi approached.

‘Will you do as he says?’

Carter frowned. ‘You are working with The Priest?’

‘Yes. This was our meeting point.’ She reached out to stroke Carter’s cheek but he pulled away. ‘Until the next time, lover.’

‘There will never be a next time.’

Roxi smiled, a dazzling smile, bright green eyes glinting. ‘Oh, but there will.’

‘Do
you want me to burn her?’

Roxi moved away and climbed into the Toyota Land Cruiser. Wheels spun and the big vehicle disappeared in a roar of black fumes. Carter sat down again, toying with his Browning idly, his face an unreadable mask.

‘More coffee?’

‘No, we’re moving out.’

Mongrel frowned at Carter. ‘Where to?’

‘After the machine. Fuck The Priest, this isn’t his woman dying on a doctor’s slab. I don’t trust him - I think he is spinning us a whole crock of shit. If we find Durell, then we find the machine to heal Natasha
and
the QuakeHub - we can take out his control of the earthquakes. And a bullet in his brain will end his thoughts of world domination once and for all.’

‘They will have people on that,’ said Mongrel softly. ‘Specialists.’

Carter laughed hollowly. ‘And what the fuck are we? No, there is some other game being played here and I will not follow their rules. I refuse.’

‘You heard The Priest. He said this was an order. Straight from the top.’

‘I don’t care,’ said Carter. He glanced at Mongrel. ‘It’s up to you, Mongrel. You can either come with me, or you can stay here. Either way I am going after Jam, I’m going after Durell - and I will find that fucking machine or die in the process.’

‘I don’t know ...’

‘Make your mind up. But do it fast.’

Suddenly, George came pounding out of the house carrying three Heckler & Koch MP5 A3 9mm submachine guns. He tossed one to Carter and one to Mongrel. Mila appeared in the doorway, face ashen, the sniper rifle gripped in her shaking hands.

‘What is it?’ growled Mongrel.

‘I’ve just had a call. There’s been trouble. Down in the town, a shoot-out with local police. Eighteen dead local policemen - murdered by masked killers. They are in three trucks and are heading this way.’

‘You sure?’ snapped Carter.

George nodded, heavy brows creased.

‘Nex,’ said Mongrel.

‘Has to be. Quick, get your shit together ...’

George pointed. ‘Too late, my friends.’ He cocked the weapon in his huge hands and Mila sprinted over to the small group. Coming up the distant trail, engines screaming and dust pluming around their wheels, came three squat black trucks, sunlight glinting menacingly from their darkened windows.

‘Fuck. Mongrel, go grab the packs. We’ll cover the road.’ Carter’s eyes scanned the trail, which led up through sparse woodland and mounds of rough grass and coarse sand, then checked the two natural hills - low humps of grass-covered rock that formed a natural funnelling point ideal for defence, before the road opened out once more onto the plateau on which the Serakina was built overlooking the sea. ‘Mila, you get up there with your sniper rifle. Start shooting as soon as you can. George, you get on the other side.’

‘And where are you going?’ rumbled the huge black man.

Carter grinned wolfishly. ‘I have a fucking surprise for our little masked gatecrashers.’

The three black trucks lurched up the rough trail, tyres bouncing in ruts and suspension smashing into overstressed chassis. Carter calmly checked the magazine of his Browning, holstered the weapon and weighed the Heckler and Koch MP5 thoughtfully in his grip. The trucks were coming closer quickly and he could spy the distant glinting Mercedes logos splashed proudly across matt black grilles. With howls of metal agony, the trucks were being hammered by their Nex drivers ...

Mila started to fire ...

Heavy-calibre sniper rounds flew through the early-morning sunlight. The lead Merc’s windscreen took two hits, then the front tyre exploded in a shower of mashed rubber and the truck veered to one side, listing dangerously before rolling onto its side and sliding across the rough ground towards the edge of the cliff...

‘Keep shooting!’ yelled Carter, sprinting up the incline behind Mila to gaze down at the stricken truck. Carter pulled free the tiny black alloy cube and slotted it neatly onto the Browning. There came a deep hum as Carter aimed at the vehicle with the NeedleClip-modded Browning. There was a click and the tiny missile flashed from the gun’s barrel. The doors of the Mercedes were opening as the projectile hit the underside of the chassis. Metal exploded and the van was picked up and tossed over the cliff in a fist of curled flames. Trailing thick black smoke, it disappeared into the sea far below—

Mongrel appeared as Carter sprinted back down the incline. George opened fire on the two remaining trucks from the opposite hill; bullets slapped along their flanks as Mila continued to fire shots from her sniper’s weapon. Mongrel tossed Carter his carbine, and with their submachine guns they opened fire from the centre of the trail ...

Bullets ate the grilles of one truck and Carter and Mongrel split, sprinting in opposite directions as the vehicles broke through onto the plateau and skidded in wide arcs. One Mercedes crashed through the wooden tables and scythed in a circle, tail end smashing through the fence overlooking the sea—

Doors slammed open and bullets tore the turf at Carter’s feet. He dropped to one knee, and his return fire picked up a masked Nex and spun the rag-doll figure over the fence and down towards the crashing waves. One truck’s rear doors opened and everything became an insanity of bullets and crackling gunfire. Mongrel crouched by the edge of the Serakina’s white building and drilled the trucks with bullets. Hot metal tore a line of holes up the wall by his face and he retreated, changing mags, concrete dust stinging in his eyes.

Three Nex charged at Carter.

He shot two of them in the face as their bullets zipped past his shoulder and throat. Then a heavy-calibre round cracked from behind him, exploding the third Nex’s face in a bloom of blood. The body fell into the grass, tumbling up to Carter in a tangle of limbs, and Carter whirled low, hearing another exchange—

‘Carter!’ shouted Mongrel. ‘The back of the trucks are empty!’

Carter cursed. Of course - the rest of the Nex would be coming in on foot from different directions. The trucks were a decoy ... He glanced up to George - who was shooting at figures unseen.
Something
chilled Carter’s soul.

He sprinted across the ground, yelling, ‘Mongrel, start your fucking bike! And take Mila with you!’ George was changing mags as Carter reached his side, and Carter gazed down on the rough hillside to the east of the track. Across the rough ground raced thirty Nex from different positions, firing as they came, using the trees for cover. Carter ducked back, but George took three rounds high in the chest. His blood splashed sickeningly across Carter’s face and he was tossed limply down the slope and rolled to a halt at the base, his huge limbs quivering.

Carter scrambled down to George’s side as Mongrel’s bike started. With an abused-engine howl, the KTM rocketed up the hill and Mila climbed onto the back. The bike churned rough ground, skidding in an arc towards Carter who pointed down the road.

‘Get the fuck out of here!’

Mongrel’s anger-filled gaze surveyed George’s blood-speckled face.

Then, without a word, he screwed the throttle hard around, the back wheel spat sand and grass, gripped and then propelled them down the road and away from the Serakina. Carter heard Mongrel’s sub-machine gun fire from the road ...

He stared at George.

The large black man smiled, blood staining his teeth.

‘I thought you said you not bring trouble to my house?’

‘I’m sorry, my friend.’

George grasped Carter’s hand with an iron grip. ‘Shoot a few in the fucking face for me, Carter? You manage that?’

Carter nodded. ‘I’ll see what I can do ...’

But George was already dead.

Carter dropped the MP5. Swinging his M24 carbine across his back, he sprinted to the KTM LC7. He fired the engine, locked the front brake, spun the bike around in a circular skid then released the brake. The front wheel lifted and Carter dipped his head low, chest touching the tank as he howled the bike towards the road leading from the plateau mountain top.

The bike raced from between the small hills, through the natural gateway and onto the dusty trail. The Nex were closer now, coming in from different areas of cover. Bullets whined past him as Carter palmed his Browning and glanced left. He launched ten NeedleRounds into the charging ranks of the Nex.

The explosions stuttered like fireworks, fire leaping into the air with charred bodies spinning in its midst. Nex were slammed into one another, into the air, into the ground, into the trees and rocks with their flesh pulped, their weapons mangled. The explosions blasted, and flames curled and ate flesh.