The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion Book 2) (26 page)

Chapter 25

The massive transports lifted off from the Notre Dame Food Depot, and the down draft buffeted Lindsey, nearly blowing her over. To keep her balance, she stood with her feet planted apart while watching the feed from the various monitoring sources. The stadium size depot had a retractable ceiling that permitted the transports to land and lift off from directly inside the main building. It made loading the freight pallets much easier and faster. The landing pad and docking area were large enough that they’d been able to fill all the transports at once. All the containers from the storage units had been viable and were now loaded on the cargo transports.

It was a huge victory.

“Time to go, people!” Lindsey shouted over the roar of the engines of the aircraft.

The squad in their sleek armor rushed past her and up the ramps into the two waiting tiltrotors. Torran stood near the one he was assigned to while also supervising the withdrawal. Though she was doggedly concentrating on her duties, she couldn’t help but steal an occasional look his way. There was so much they had to discuss, but she wondered when they’d be able to have a personal conversation. The world was ominous enough. Why did she have to lose the one thing that brought her any measure of peace?

But then again, maybe peace wasn’t a normal part of the human experience.

During the extraction, Lindsey had spotted a few signs of attempted sabotage. This time, the Gaia Cult had left its calling card with a spray painted message, but it had faded over time and was unreadable. After careful examination, she ascertained the depot security had thwarted the ecowarriors. There were some signs of a battle fought at close proximity and long-dead bodies littered one area of the vast depot. There were Scrags in the building, but their number hadn’t been sufficient to cause any great threat to the squad. The few present had been easily dispatched. Since none of the doors or walls had been breached upon their arrival, she suspected the Gaia Cult had been behind the contamination.

Overhead, the massive cargo transports roared away.

Another successful mission with no loss of life.

The aerial drones continued to circle the food depot, scanning the wall that encircled the facility. The perimeter was already being overrun in one area by a massive crush of Scrags. A horde was rushing toward the depot, but they weren’t a true threat, since they wouldn’t be able to access the interior. The squad would be long gone by the time the Scrags managed to find a way inside, though she doubted they would. The depot would have made a secure safe haven for a small group of people, since it was so well fortified. But considering the attempts of the Gaia Cult to destroy humanity, it was probably a good thing that when the city had fallen, all the survivors had been airlifted to The Bastion.

“Another breach has occurred at the south wall,” Torran’s voice said crisply.

Lindsey watched the feed and shivered. It was terrifying how unrelenting the Scrags were once they had prey in sight. The transports and tiltrotors had likely stirred up the entire undead populace of the city.

“We’re done here. Leave it to the Scrags,” the chief defender instructed.

Lindsey swore there was a smile in the commanding officer’s voice.

Following her squad into her designated tiltrotor, Lindsey glanced toward the other one. Torran was just ascending the ramp and she saw his helmet swivel toward her. After a brief wave, he disappeared inside as the tiltrotor started its ascent.

Lindsey sighed and ducked into her own tiltrotor as the ramp retracted. The squad was already in their seats, the harnesses descending to snap into place. Hastening up the aisle, she saw Franklin and Hobbes give her the thumps up. When the squad had been split between the two tiltrotors, she’d been relieved that Dr. Curran and the Sci-techs were with the chief defender. Sadly, so was Torran, and she wished he was with her instead of in the other aircraft. At least then she’d have the comfort of his presence even though things were oddly strained between them.

Throughout their mission, Torran had been a tad brusque in his interaction with her. In retrospect, she had left them in an awkward pause. She’d been flustered by how quickly he had turned off the console in the prep room. Even though she told herself she wouldn’t snoop when they returned, she knew she would. She had to know what he was hiding. The added stress of knowing she couldn’t spend time with him anymore outside of their duty only made the situation more worrisome.

“Prepare for departure,” Scoggins said through the comm.

The harness to Lindsey’s chair descended and tightened around her. Leaving her console dark, she concentrated instead on the helmet feed. The return journey to The Bastion was always uneventful, but she liked watching the images from the aerial drones and tiltrotor cameras. Most of the terrain was absolutely breathtakingly beautiful even as winter started to set in and the greenery faded beneath of cloak of white. The flight plans attempted to avoid old towns and cities, but once in a while, she’d spot the remains of the old world. Everything about the older human enclaves was so different from The Bastion. Even the city they were in now was very different from their home.

To protect the lower, ancient city, the upper city had been built on enormous platforms supported by pylons sunk deep into the earth. Crisscrossing roadways, walkways, and monorail tracks created an almost beautiful web between the elevated cityscape. Their flight path took them beneath the lattice of metal and concrete. The engineers of the city had created passages for aircraft underneath the upper city.

As the tiltrotor rose out of the food depot, Scoggins followed the flight path of the other departing aircraft. Watching the feed from the cameras under the cockpit, Lindsey was relieved when Torran’s tiltrotor cleared the passage and turned over the river that wound through the city. Her tiltrotor was just a few seconds behind, and the harness caught her body firmly as the craft banked to the right.

A deafening explosion was followed by the tiltrotor bucking wildly. Flung to one side, the straps keeping her secure bit hard into Lindsey’s armor and the pressure shoved the air out of her lungs. The interior lights flickered on and off, then went dark. The emergency klaxon sang through the gloom.

“Report,” she gasped. “Scoggins! Report!”

“...right rotor... engine...” The pilot’s voice was garbled.

Another boom sent the tiltrotor into a terrifying spin. The centrifugal force drove Lindsey against the seat as the feed on her helmet flashed wildly. One image, sent from an aerial drone following the tiltrotor, revealed that the cockpit was severely damaged and fire spreading along the right side of the aircraft. Straining to hit her wristlet, Lindsey saw the terrified faces of the squad around her illuminated by the lights in their helmets. Across from her, Hobbes and Franklin clasped hands.

The autopilot flipped on and attempted to pull the tiltrotor out of the sickening downward spiral. Lindsey was tossed forward as an auxiliary engine sputtered to life. Relief flooded her as the tiltrotor stopped its wild rotation and attempted to straighten as the autopilot regained control. Shaking fingers pulling at the release on her harness, Lindsey’s mind was already a whirlwind of plans on how she could take over the pilot controls and get them to safety.

The harness release didn’t budge.

Again, she pulled at it, desperate to get to the cockpit.

A second later, she realized it was too late when the feeds from the tiltrotor’s exterior cameras refreshed on her helmet screen.

The aircraft slammed into the river.

* * *

The chief defender’s tiltrotor circled the struggling aircraft at a safe distance. Torran watched his feed and listened to the pilot attempting to reach Scoggins. The chief defender’s voice didn’t even register in his mind as he watched the tiltrotor ferrying Lindsey spinning wildly out of control.

“...emergency protocols should activate...” someone was shouting, then Torran realized it was Dr. Curran.

To his relief, the auxiliary engine extended out of the side of the ailing craft and flared to life. His heart in his throat, he watched the other tiltrotor manage to break its spin, but then a hush fell over the comm as it dropped like a stone into the river below. The aerial drones whipped around the crash as the tiltrotor listed to one side, obviously taking on water, then swiftly started to vanish beneath the dark waves.

“We have to rescue them,” Torran shouted. He’d hit the release on his harness and was on his feet before he even realized it.

“We can’t rescue them,” the chief defender replied, her face and voice tense.

“There are twenty people down there. Our people!”

“The Scrags are already rushing to the crash site. I will not risk this squad...”

The rest of her words became white noise. Torran stared at his commanding officer shouting at him and made his choice. Tearing off his helmet, he ran to the back of the tiltrotor.

“MacDonald!”

Popping the emergency hatch, he saw the dark water of the river below, but knew he had scant seconds before the aircraft would be over the dead city again. Clutching his helmet in one hand while securing his weapon to his armor, he dropped out of the tiltrotor. The wind tore at him as he plunged. He straightened his body, aiming to land feet first, and let go of his helmet. Pulling his arms in tight to his body, he exhaled as the dark river rushed up.

When he struck the water, the impact was jarring, but not painful. Thankfully, the river was deep enough that he didn’t hit the bottom. The coldness of the water stunned him for a brief second, then he kicked toward the surface, his helmet bobbing on the ripples left from his dive was his target. When he broke through to the air, he grabbed it firmly with one hand while dragging moist air into his lungs.

Flipping onto his back, Torran floated while reattaching his helmet. The feed immediately started to reboot once it was connected to his armor. The sound of the departing tiltrotor faded into the distance and the impact of his decision sent tremors of fear through him. One look toward the wing of the crashed tiltrotor sticking out of the murky water was enough to spur him into action and ignore the fright blooming in his mind. His weapon bumped against his chest as he swam. The armor’s internal regulators switched on and started to warm him. Teeth still chattering, he swam as fast as he could manage.

“...we’re almost out of range...” the chief defender’s voice said, bursting through the speakers in his helmet as the comm rebooted. “...you’re on your own until...”

Torran was fairly certain a rescue team wouldn’t be in route until after the convoy had returned to The Bastion. He didn’t even attempt to answer. All of his energy was exerted in using his arms and legs to cut through the water. Lindsey needed him and he would not let her down.

When he reached the aircraft it was nearly completely submerged. He was forced to dive and pull himself along the hull toward the ruined cockpit. The severe damage made it easy for him to slip through the ruined canopy and swim inside. One look toward Scoggins revealed she was dead. Swimming past her, he pulled himself through the dark interior. Only the lights from his helmet illuminated his way. Loud metallic groans sent vibrations through the water and the entire craft shuddered. There was a sickening sound of rending metal and Torran grabbed onto a handhold just as the back of the tiltrotor separated from the front.

“Internal suit oxygen is about to expire,” his armor announced in a cold, emotionless voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered.

Once the tiltrotor settled again, he swam through the large gap between the broken pieces of the wreckage and pulled himself into the rear of the craft.

“Warning. You have only thirty seconds of oxygen remaining.”

Torran had to shove some broken equipment and debris out of his way, but he managed to enter the passenger area. Immediately, he saw it was listing hard to one side, and there was a dwindling air pocket above him. Kicking upward, he broke the surface and tried to orient himself.

The closest squad member to him was clearly dead. Debris had impaled him. The second was also dead. A good portion of a console had imbedded itself in her head. Pulling himself toward the section still elevated above the water, Torran observed that most of the squad was beneath the surface. The harnesses had not released and they were still strapped down. A few were thrashing, attempting to get free. Torran reached up and grabbed one of the manual releases and tugged on it. The handle would not budge. Pulling harder, he grunted with the strain. It didn’t relent. Tugging his weapon above the water, he flipped on the light. It illuminated the release and Torran swore.