Syberian Sunrise (10 page)

“Enzo? Where are you?”
It was Eve.

“I'm pretty sure I'm on the research level. What the fuck happened? Where'd you go?”

“I'm sorry. Dark Ops has set up a transmission blocker. None of the radios work, only the hardwired, station-to-station intercom system. What happened?”

Enzo spent a moment bringing her up to speed on the situation, ending with Ramirez's death and his subsequent escape.

“Well...shit. Okay, let me think a moment,”
Eve replied.

Enzo waited. While he did, he walked over to a medical cabinet, pulled out a medkit and extracted the morphine from it. His shoulder was hurting bad again, so he shot up with another injection. Not a full one, just half, he didn't want to get stupid and sloppy on the battlefield. He replaced the injector and clipped the kit to his belt.

“Okay, I have it. You there?”

“Yeah, I'm here.”

“Here's a map of the level you're on. I tracked your workstation and determined that you are on the research level. They had an armory right next to a weapons lab. They were developing some new kinds of munitions down there. If you can get to it, you should be able to find yourself some gear. Ultimately what I'm going to need is for you to come up here and get me out. I'm actually on the level above you, but I need some help getting out.”

“All right. We'll talk later, I'm going for those guns.”

“Okay...good luck.”

“Yeah.”

Enzo headed for the exit.

Chapter 08

–
Guts & Gear
–

As Enzo crept through the corridors, it became obvious that Level Five, referred to in a blanket term on the terminal as 'Research', had suffered the most damage. Which made sense, considering this is where the outbreak must have begun. All the creatures were stored here, harvested from the ship and brought up to the cages and the labs for the men with syringes and scalpels to experiment. The walls, floor and ceiling were all heavily dented, spattered with blood and liberally riddled with bullet holes. No bodies, though.

These things were thorough and efficient.

Like the hunters always said, no part wasted.

Weaponless again, only this time he knew the threat. At least some of it. So far, he'd seen four different incarnations of these hideous things. The Slugs, Mutants, Guardians and Harvesters. What else lurked in the shadows of the dying facility? What nightmares waited for him? Enzo looked down at his false arm. It was his primary weapon now. He'd liberated another scalpel from the infirmary, but knew it would do him little good.

He needed something heavily.

Currently, he was stalking down a side corridor that connected a pair of specimen storage bays. Not the most ideal place to be, but it was presently the quickest route to the weapons research area. Enzo had never exactly been a patient, or even cautious, man. But he was afraid. He could hardly admit it to himself. It had been a long time since he'd been really frightened, since he'd really tasted fear. In fact, the last time was when it had occurred to him that maybe the pain in his shoulder might not go away from the rest of his life.

After he'd come to accept it as a necessity, the fear had kind of faded. Objectively, he knew that was stupid. A mercenary needed fear to keep him alive, anyone who grabbed a gun and went to work did. Too much would get you killed, but too little would be just as bad, if not worse. It was easy to believe you were invincible when you'd live for so long, been through so much. He'd been shot a dozen times, stabbed six times, put in a coma for nine days at one point due to a particularly bad head injury, poisoned, shocked...

A lot had happened to him.

And he knew that at least half of it was unnecessary. How many times had he been wounded because of stupid risks he shouldn't have taken? Because he was tired of the agony in his shoulder and thought that maybe, just for a second, being dead might be easier, or better? But now, here, buried beneath a planet with a horde of mutated freaks, he was really feeling fear again for the first time in years...in decades.

It was like meeting a long lost friend.

Enzo came to the end of the corridor and hit the access button, dropping into a low crouch, staring through the door as it opened. The other specimen storage bay awaited him. These two were of a simpler design than the previous one he'd fought the Harvesters in with Ramirez. Just ranked rows of cages along the walls, a big, open floor in between them. Just one door on the far side of the room, closed, beckoning to him.

He studied the cages. Most of them were bloodied and empty. A few were still occupied by Mutants or Harvesters. They raged against the glass when they saw him enter the room, but were otherwise harmless. Enzo chuckled and walked over to the nearest occupied cage. It was ground level and held a Mutant, someone that might have been one of the prisoners he'd resided with aboard the transport vessel.

The thing howled and raged as he got closer, beating against the glass front with its fists, smearing blood. He grinned and flipped it off, pressing his finger right up against the other side of the glass. The creature continued to thrash around.

“Go fuck yourself,” he muttered, then turned and hurried across the chamber.

Enzo realized he hated these things. Hated that they'd given him his fear back. It might have been a rush at first, an old chemical reaction he hadn't been acquainted with in a long time, but it was also one he'd gratefully cut out of his life. He hated being afraid. It made him feel helpless. Made him want to hide in a closet and wait for someone else to deal with the problem. He absolutely hated people like that, passive people who just waited.

Because once, he'd been one.

Enzo passed through the next room and closed the door behind him, spending a moment locking it down. He took a step into the room and stopped dead in his tracks. The room hadn't been marked on the map, which had been a curiosity, and part of the reason he'd chosen this route. They only didn't mark rooms they
really
didn't want anyone to know what was in them. So he wasn't surprised as he might have been when he saw what he saw.

An enormous glass and steel container occupied the far wall. It was easily twenty feet high by ten wide. Over half a dozen complex workstations were hooked up to the container, making a small orbit around it.

It was broken open.

“Holy fuck,” Enzo whispered, staring at the immense cage.

What could have
possibly
been in there?

The fear came back, edged with a bit of blind terror. He found himself hoping that he never ran into whatever immense monstrosity had once been held within. Hurrying, he crossed the room and moved through the door to the other side. More than ever, he felt his lack of a weapon. The next door led to an antechamber that served as a crossroads. He wasn't far now. Unfortunately, as he stepped out into it, he heard voices.

Mechanical voices. Dark Ops.

Enzo melted back into the shadows around the edges of the poorly-lit room, his fingers curled around the scalpel. They were getting closer. He listened to their conversation as they moved towards him, preparing himself for a fight.

“This is bullshit, I don't see why we haven't pulled out yet. We're down to, what, like fifty troops now?” one asked, sounding tired.

“Less, I think, after those fucking jackoffs hit us in the lab. Lost five guys there, almost lost Dietz and the Director.”

“Might not have been so bad...”

“Yeah, maybe. Then we could just pull out. I
know
they've got ships topside.”

They stepped into the room. Enzo swallowed, froze, didn't move, didn't breath. A part of him wanted to attack, but they were giving up critical information.

“Do we know who fucked us over and let them out?”

They stopped in the antechamber, their backs to him, taking a break.

“Yeah. You didn't hear? Little Miss Bitch up in the Control Room, the one coordinating with the Marines and whoever the fuck that guy with the fake arm is.”

“Ugh...fucking jarheads.” The second man paused, when he spoke again, a creeping malignancy had entered his voice. “So when are we going to go up there and meet Miss Bitch personally? Have a 'get to know her' session?”

“We can't, not with that fucking thing up there.”

“Oh, yeah...” The second man sounded glum.

“Come on, we've got to keep looking.”

Enzo listened to them as the headed off, but their conversation drifted towards uselessness, bitching about lost comrades and the creatures. He watched them until they were out of sight, then slipped down the left hand corridor.

So Eve was the one who started all this, then.

Or at least, that's what they thought.

Enzo was going to have to bring that up the next time they spoke. She was getting more and more interesting. The corridor terminated in a large, vault-like door. Enzo flashed the security card he'd picked up in a pool of blood somewhere along the way across the scanner. The scanner chimed gently and the door opened. He hurried into the room beyond, taking it all in at a glance. He was glad to see that it was empty.

The room he stood in now was the main chamber, a cluster of workstations and tables and randomly assorted crates. Along the left and right walls were doors, each door leading to a smaller, individual labs where the scientists had been working on different projects. Enzo hurried over to the first one, clearing it with a sharp glance. It consisted of a shooting range and a specialized workbench. Unfortunately, whatever they'd been working on was missing, taken by one side or the other. Frustrated, Enzo moved on.

Ten minutes passed. Each of the subsequent testing labs were empty as well, having been pillaged during the war that had consumed the research facility. He was about to give up hope as he came to the final of the eight chambers. But as he stepped within, Enzo grinned. There was something lying in a glass case, right where it was supposed to be. The glass had been hit by a few bullets, though it did little damage, considering the strength of it. Had someone been trying to get in? There was blood on the floor, and part of a hand.

Enzo swiped the security card through the scanner and popped the lid. What resided inside was a long, rectangular rifle made entirely of black material. The surface was smooth and glossy. It looked like it was all one part, as opposed to several assembled pieces. There was just the barrel and the trigger, with a slot at the base of the trigger for what Enzo imagined must be ammunition. There was only a single...clip? Magazine?...whatever the hell served as ammo for this gun residing inside. He picked it up, finding it surprisingly heavy, and slipped it into the gun, which was also heavy. Pulling it up and out, he tucked it into his shoulder.

Enzo took a moment to get a feel for the weapon. As he brought it up to stare down the length of it, frustrated at the lack of any kind of scope or even an iron sight, a digital zoom scope abruptly popped out of the gun, exactly where he needed it. He jerked in surprised, then laughed nervously. As he brought it away, the scope disappeared.

“Nice,” he whispered.

Enzo next fired up the workstation and found a brief description of the weapon. It was called, of all things, the Burner. Apparently, it was a focused laser based on something they found in the Cyr ship. He wanted to read more, but his study session was cut short as he heard a very quiet noise, little more than a soft whisper rising above everything else. It was, he realized, the main door out in the primary room opening.

Turning, he raised the rifle, bringing it into position, and moved towards the doorway that would bring him back to the main chamber. It was time to test the Burner out. Enzo hit the access button and stepped out. Half a dozen Dark Ops troops were moving into the room, apparently setting up an ambush for him. How they'd found him, he didn't know, nor did he care. Enzo grinned darkly as he slipped his finger over the trigger.

“Target is in sight!”

“He's armed!”

“Put that fucking weapon down right-”

Enzo squeezed the trigger. A brilliant beam of crimson light shot out, piercing the neck of the man who'd been demanding he drop his weapon. Playing on a hunch, Enzo flicked the beam left, then right, and openly laughed as the man's head was utterly severed from his body. It collapsed onto the ground, no blood spraying as the wound had been instantly cauterized by the immense heat of the laser beam. The body took a few awkward steps, then collapsed.

“Holy
fuck
!” one of them cried.

Enzo kept his finger on the trigger and began playing them beam back and forth across the room. Utter chaos broke out. Men screamed. Limbs, heads and bits of flesh began falling onto the ground. Workstations were chopped up, the smell of burnt meat filled the air, black grooves were cut into the metal walls.

Within seconds, the entire group of men was dead and silent, reduced to pieces on the ground. Enzo laughed wildly and let it up on the trigger, noticing the gun was beginning to get uncomfortably hot in his hands. He took a deep breath and let it out, marveling at how flat out powerful the Burner was. His time in the facility suddenly seemed like it was going to be significantly easier. As he thought this, he heard a deep growl come from the vault-like door both he and the Dark Ops troops had entered through previously.