Apocalypse Soldier (11 page)

Behind them, their pursuers exploded through the flimsy fence that surrounded the small airport. Through the swirling sand, she spotted one of the soldiers poking up from a roof hatch. A rocket launcher rested on the masked man’s shoulder, but he wasn’t aiming at them. With horror Nicole realized the warhead was pointed at the incoming jet. Talon spotted the rocket launcher at the same moment as she did, the grim expression on his face mirroring her own.

The RPG lit up and a streak of hot flame blasted toward the Learjet.
 

In her mind’s eye, Nicole pictured the pilot’s reaction of terror in the face of onrushing death. An instant later, the world began to burn, and her slim hope of rescue would burn with it.

***

Talon saw the blast in his mind’s eye seconds before reality caught up with his imagination. He had witnessed a fair share of explosions during his ten years as a professional soldier, but fire and shrapnel never lost the power to strike fear in the hearts of men. As the warhead zipped by overhead, his training kicked in. He swung the wheel around hard and hit the accelerator, the vehicle’s body shaking as the tires seized the runway and carved black treads.

A heartbeat later, the missile found its target. A loud boom overtook the scene as the plane and every living thing inside disintegrated in an immense fireball. Burning pieces whistled through the air with ferocious force and slammed into the hangars and parked planes, warping metal and spreading fiery devastation.
 

Man, Casca will be pissed
, Talon thought.
 

The jeep skidded away, weaving around a mad obstacle course of sizzling wreckage. A glimpse into his rear-view mirror revealed a field of destruction, the airport resembling a scorched warzone. As the flames hungrily licked across the skeletal remains of the Learjet, Talon heard the roaring engines of the pursuing convoy.

The enemy was closing in.

Talon quickly checked on Nicole and a cold shiver of dread jolted up his spine. A smile played across those beautiful features, now bathed in the halo of the fires. She inhaled deeply, almost as if death and destruction were a sweet fragrance. She caught his expression of horror and said in a mocking tone, “So what’s your next move, Sergeant?”

The question hung there as flames roared outside and acrid smoke devoured the air. Nicole’s face suddenly fell as she regained control, her perverse delight giving way to disgust. “I saw the people inside the plane…could smell them burning… and I enjoyed it. Oh my God, please make it stop!”

It’s destroying her from the inside
, he thought.

Talon stared at Nicole, in equal measure drawn and repelled by her. Her vulnerability touched him, but he couldn’t forget the mask of evil he’d glimpsed moments earlier. The darkness was inside of her, twisting her beautiful features into something grotesque.
 

Struck with a sudden idea, he touched the Sumerian amulet Casca had given him back in Silicon Valley. The pendant
was capable of channeling the
light
in the same way evil occult relics could tap into the
darkness.
Perhaps its power would protect Nicole and maybe even slow down the influence of the terrible beings raging inside of her.
 

Talon slammed the brakes and stopped the jeep. For a moment his pursuers were forgotten; Nicole’s soul was more important than outrunning a few thugs. He couldn’t risk just handing the amulet to Nicole. In her current Jekyll and Hyde state, she might toss the pentacle out the window if the demons deemed it a threat.
 

He didn’t give her warning or a chance to protest. He removed the pentagram pendant from his neck, leaned forward, and draped it over her head.
 

“What are you doing?” she asked.
 

“I think it might help. The pentagram is an ancient protective symbol, and—”

A screaming Ducati pulled abreast of them, bringing an end to the exchange. Their pursuers had fought their way through the scorched tangle of smoldering debris and were moving in for the kill. The fiery inferno played across the visor of the soldier’s motorcycle helmet.
 

Talon spotted the gloved hand targeting him with a submachine gun and the world froze. He jerked out his Glock, and reality narrowed to the pistol in his hand and the killer in his sights. He opened fire while his opponent was still trying to get a lock on him. The bullet punched through the visor, and the helmet’s fiberglass shell and high-tech EPS foam did nothing to protect him. The impact hurled the rider off his moving bike. The now riderless motorcycle kept going for a second or two before crashing to the ground in a shower of sparks.
 

Another motorcycle roared toward them from the passenger side. Before the attacker could target the vehicle with his submachine pistol, Talon jockeyed ahead and hammered the jeep into the incoming biker. There was a thump and a scream, which was drowned out by the sound of grinding metal as the bike slammed into a section of the burning Learjet.
 

Talon had no time to enjoy the victory as a van burst from the black smoke, a cultist leaning out of the passenger window, AK-47 leveled.
 

Right hand on the wheel, left hand returning fire with his Glock, Talon roared through the debris field while unleashing his own version of hell on earth. Bullets sliced the air around him, the windows shattering and spider-webbing under the onslaught, while Talon’s shots turned the pick-up truck into Swiss cheese.
 

The shooter in the truck took a slug to the mouth and he disappeared in the vehicle, frothing red. A heartbeat later, the truck was right in front of them. Talon braked hard and twisted the wheel, going into a power-slide. With a sickening crunch, he rammed the front of the jeep into the incoming pick-up truck and sent it careening in the other direction. The truck barreled into the row of parked airplanes, clipping wings and spraying metal. He flashed a wolf grin at Nicole.

They’d been lucky so far, but there was still the Hummer, the van, and one more pick-up truck to contend with, plus a few stray cultists on motorcycles.

Talon didn’t like their odds. They had to get out of the airport and back to the freeway.

Tires squealed as Talon guided the jeep off the runway and onto the sandy desert floor, leaving a billowing cloud of dust in its wake. Next up, the airport’s fence jumped into view with alarming speed. Talon never took his foot off the gas and braced himself for the impact, shouting for Nicole to hang on as the jeep tore through the fence and powered over more sand. Rocks slammed against the undercarriage like rifle shots. Talon and Nicole bounced in their seats, their bodies rocking, until the jeep hit a road leading away from the airfield and the ride grew smoother. Two minutes later, they were back on the freeway and shooting through the scorched desert landscape.

Tires devoured the two-lane strip of asphalt, the sunrise in the east a riot of pinks and purple lighting up cirrus clouds on the horizon. He risked a glance behind them. The convoy had lost a few vehicles but they wouldn’t abandon the chase. Talon wasn’t a fool and didn’t believe for a moment the apocalypse soldier was backing off. These fanatics wouldn’t give up that easily. He’d have to contact Casca and see what the next move should be.

He turned toward Nicole. The pendant still dangled from her neck, and she still seemed in charge of her faculties.
 

“Is it doing anything?”

She looked down at the metal disc inscribed with arcane symbols. “Whatever is inside me doesn’t like it too much.”

“Good. I guess that means it’s working.”

Nicole managed a fatalistic smile. “The amulet is slowing down the infection…but only by a little. These demons are patient, and they keep getting stronger.”

Talon nodded grimly. He hadn’t expected the Sumerian pendant to be a long-term solution, but at least it was buying them some time.

“Thanks for trying,” Nicole added. There were tears in her eyes.
 

Seeing Nicole like this, so fragile and yet still fighting with all her strength, reminded him of the woman he lost in San Francisco. Michelle too had been a fighter with a big heart. Nicole was an innocent victim, and he couldn’t lose sight of this vital distinction. The darkness inside of her was the true enemy here, not the beautiful girl in the passenger seat.
 

She looked up at him with shadowed eyes. “What are we going to do?”
 

Good question. They were back to square one. The hunters were still gaining behind them as they shot down the lone stretch of desert freeway. They could keep on driving until their pursuers finally caught up with them or until they ran out of gas, whichever of the two happened first.

As he considered his options, he recalled something Cabrera had shared with him back at the hospital. Several miles southeast, right at the US-Mexico border, was a monastery that could offer sanctuary. The exorcist had urged him to seek help from the brotherhood of monks who ran the place. At the time, Casca’s plan had sounded a lot better than seeking safe harbor in some supposedly holy place in the middle of nowhere. Cabrera had felt certain that the monks at the monastery could protect Nicole, but Talon remained unconvinced. The men pursuing had proven that they showed little respect for either God or country. Isolated from civilization as the order was, the desert monastery could easily turn into a death trap if the cult caught up with them there.
 

Nevertheless, what other options did they have? Maybe within the walls of the sanctuary, Talon could somehow hold off the enemy until Casca sent reinforcements. It was a plan. Not the best plan in the world, but the best he could come up with a bunch of cultists breathing down his neck.

He had to let Casca know about his next move. Eyes never losing sight of his pursuers in the rear-view mirror, he dialed the billionaire’s number. Casca picked up on the first ring. He’d clearly been waiting for an update.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“Let’s just say you might need to start shopping for a new Learjet.” There was a moment of silence on the other end, and Talon added, “I’m sorry.”

He hadn’t meant to flippant about it. People had died on that plane. But humor, at times, was the only sane response when faced with a crazy, brutal world.
 

And, man, things had gotten loopy since San Francisco…

“How is the girl?” Casca asked.

Talon quickly brought Casca up to speed. He told him about his plan to take Nicole to the desert monastery. The monks would try to help the girl while he would hold off Amon and his followers best he could.

“If there is anything you could send my way…”

“I will mobilize my security team, but it will take a few hours to get them out th—”

The line crackled and hissed. Casca’s voice phased out, and the phone went dead.
 

Shit.

“Who was that?” Nicole asked.
 

“The owner of the Learjet. He’s working with me and Cabrera.”
 

Talon tried to call Casca again but got a busy signal. He would have to try again or wait to see if Casca could get through to him.
 

The phone chirped with an incoming text. The message came from an unlisted number, and apprehension coiled up his throat. Only Casca had access to this number. It served as their direct line of contact while he was out on his missions. So who could this be? He scanned the text and realized they’d sent him a video file.
 

Nicole picked up his sudden change in mood. “What’s wrong?”
 

“No one but my friend has this number. So who the hell is sending me a text?’”

Still wary he played back the message…and within seconds wished he hadn’t. His pulse pounded in the back of his head and the tendons in his hands stood out in ribbons as he clutched the steering wheel. For a moment the convoy closing in and the woman at his side ceased to exist, his world narrowed to the terrible flickering images on his cell phone. Every night when he closed his eyes, that same video unspooled before his mind’s eye. No matter how many sleeping pills he popped or how much booze he knocked back, there was no escape.

It was the video of Michelle’s murder.
 

Onscreen, members of Zagan’s cult surrounded his fiancée, features obscured by their cyborg masks as they savagely stabbed. Blades flashed, blood spurted, life ebbed away. He was ready to break the phone in two, his features tight, heart hammering as he relived the moment that had set him on his current path. With Michelle’s murder, the forces of darkness had declared war, and Talon had responded in kind.

The video ended as the largest of the masked techno-cultists approached. This figure towered over the others, the baggy hoodie unable to conceal the muscles beneath. As Michelle gasped for air, her teeth shiny with blood, the cultist plunged eight inches of steel into her rib cage. As the last vestiges of life left Michelle’s eyes, the video ended and the screen went dark.
 

Silence stretched. The scorched wasteland zipping by outside mirrored the fire burning in Talon’s soul. His rage had become a raw, exposed nerve.

“The woman in the video…that’s why you’re here?Why you want to save me?” Nicole asked. “You loved this woman and they took her from you.”

Talon didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not with her.

The cell rang again. It was the same unlisted number.
 

“Who the fuck are you?” he hissed even though he knew the answer. The caller had to be Amon, the leader of this soldier cult.

“Stop the car and hand over the girl or your bones will be scattered across this desert by nightfall.”

Click!
The line went dead.

How did Amon know about Michelle? Then again, this was the freak who disarmed C-4 charges with his bare hands. And he was sitting next to a woman who can practically read minds. Who knew what other dark powers these cultists might have?