Hostseeker: Survive Demonic Apocalypse Read online

  HOSTSEEKER

  By Malcolm Yard

  2016

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2016 by Malcolm Yard. All rights reserved.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Events, characters, names and plots are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously in the given context. Any resemblance to the actual events, persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

  Cover art by Malcolm Yard.

  Contact information can be found on About the Author page.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About the Author

  Dedication

  To my son, Thomas.

  Introduction

  When the World faced its first alien invasion, they didn't just pour out of the sky in their menacing space ships, as we all thought they might one day. The books we read and movies we watched to that point trained us to expect something specific, and a lot of people were almost disappointed that it didn't happen that way at all.

  Alien invasion points spawned on the ground, in seemingly random locations, scattered around the globe. They didn't have what we would consider military assault vehicles or aircraft, and looked like an endless army of unusual looking units, traveling on foot or by air.

  They didn't negotiate or communicate with us, and simply started spreading like a cloud of death and destruction. Most importantly - they've possessed people. That appeared to be their first choice, slaughter coming close second. Anyone being caught in close proximity of the aliens quickly turned against us, visibly unchanged otherwise.

  The Church and Vatican specifically used the chance to address us all, declaring that the End is nigh, and this is Demonic Invasion their dusty books were predicting all along. A lot of us rolled our eyes, but the label - demons - stuck in the media and between common folk a lot better than aliens, and was widely accepted as the street name of what we were dealing with. Not many of us cared if it was actually accurate or not, but some tried to resort to prayer and repentance.

  That didn't save anyone. Millions were lost over just a few weeks. The slaughter and possession spread through urban landscape like wildfire, unstoppable and impossible to contain. Until it came to the point when there was no living soul left to consume for miles and miles around some invasion points.

  It turned out that original form of a demon deteriorated rapidly without a local host they could possess. There were some types of demons that didn't seem to need a local host, but their existence only proved general rule of how majority of their forces operated. It was unclear why demonic aliens didn't have some form of protective suits, or armor, or any other equipment that could help them in their grim task. They must have relied on local population of the invaded world too much...

  So running out of fresh bodies to possess, demons had to rely on the ranks they've possessed already, to push the spread further, or their long-range bombardment methods and types not dependent on local hosts to keep us at bay. This finally gave the authorities and our combined World Armored Forces a chance to fight back, and stop what later became known as Demonic Plague One.

  Uncontaminated areas were turned into safe-zones, protected by rapidly erected walls of steel, concrete and barbed wire. Military put everything they've had on those walls, to fight off initially frequent attempts of demonic infantry to storm or the castles we've locked ourselves up in.

  About half of our World became uninhabited over months, demonic attacks became less frequent, and we've almost learned to coexist with the enemy right outside our high walls, being too scared to think about what might come next. We held our breath as humankind, and who knows what the demons were doing in the meantime...

  Alien threat was obviously only part of the global trouble we were facing.

  Influx of desperate refugees into unplagued areas caused a huge demographic shift, causing overpopulation of big cities, blurring the borders, and creating one never ending continuous landscape of stone, steel, and rubble replacing previously beautiful cities. Gray worn out buildings, huts, tents and tiny hovels. Crime rate went through the roof in previously relatively peaceful areas, accompanied by outbreaks of disease and limited ability of the authorities to contain either.

  Through dangerous and expensive trial and error, it was confirmed that demons could only possess the host that is predominantly human or otherwise living. Severely injured patients who had most of their organs replaced by synthetic parts were not possessed, and either escaped successfully, or were simply killed by demons during the encounters, as unusable hosts.

  This lead to creation of the Demon Purge Force, or DPF, that consisted of semi-synthetic soldiers augmented by robotic and silicone parts, making them immune to the main demonic takeover method - possession. DPF soldiers very quickly became the elite of armored forces, venturing far into the uninhabited demonic wilds, looking for invasion points and gathering other useful intelligence.

  Our story begins following one of them, in the outskirts of the wasteland surrounding fortified perimeter wall of Inner Sydney...

  Chapter 1

  Tom's fingers were freezing, even inside his military leather gloves, almost failing to feel the steel of the trigger. Laying there in dirty snow for good half an hour, periodically fixing his helmet and wiping condensation off his tactical goggles, he was waiting for holos to make their next move. These stuck together in a group of about 10, making it impossible to line up a clean shot that wouldn't alert the rest of the swarm. Tom opened his palm for a few seconds, letting go off his rifle's handle, then clenching it into a fist again.

  Agent's orders rarely included taking out individual demons and clearly prohibited engaging larger groups, but Tom never missed an opportunity to take a shot if it presented itself. Tom sometimes stayed outside of the relative safety of uncontaminated city perimeter for weeks, plotting enemy movements on the tactical map, and reporting other anomalies. He needed less food and heat than a normal human after all.

  Tom was saved by the medical unit of Demon Purge Force after his whole family got crushed by the collapsed building, during one of the first waves of demonic attacks on Sydney three years ago. Almost half of his body was lost, and the fact that he survived at all was a miracle in itself. Chances of full recovery were slim, even with the help of all the silicone and robotic parts his body was now augmented with.

  Tom made it though, being automatically recruited by DPF as a potential operative, and enlisted into field academy training. He quickly raised to be top of his class, driven by his grief and almost palpable hate for the common enemy. Later Tom was assigned to patrol far borders of what was considered unoccupied territory.

  He served DPF willingly and obediently, doing his reconnaissance agent job very well. Tom liked that he didn't need to return very often to that dirty hole that Sydney became. There was nothing good about his city anymore, and staying behind the tall concrete walls with hope that another demonic outbreak doesn't happen right in the middle of overpopulated streets was not a chance he was going to take.

  As all augs--augmented soldiers similar to himself--Tom was immune to the main danger of contaminated world. Demonic possession.

  Nobody fully understood exactly what prevented demons from possessin
g half-robotic organisms, but simplified version of scientific report available in DPF archives said that most probable theory had something to do with the percentage of living tissue that a demon needed to recognize a target as acceptable host.

  That explanation, and multiple demon encounters he had during his service were good enough for Tom. He was proficient with his weapons, and quick thinking on his feet, which gave him all the tools for survival much needed in the present day and time.

  Then there was also Betty. His implanted state of the art Electronic Tactical Assistant who he decided to give a human name. She made him feel less alone in the wasteland, and like someone caring actually watched over him all the time.

  Months flew by and nothing major happened around Sydney or in parts of uninhabited World that was now occupied by demons. There were no more Social Media networks where one could get all sorts of information from around the World, as the Authorities shut some down and heavily restricted others shortly after demons first appeared. This did raise a huge wave of protests, that were suppressed by the governments very quickly to prevent the spread of panic and disinformation.

  Official information flow and reports to general public through approved and moderated government channels created that lingering sense of discontent among people, and Tom--still being human in many ways--shared some of those views. He had access to official DPF reports and archives, but those were quite limited too, and a lot were unavailable at his access level.

  Tom's curious mind demanded answers and was missing previously accessible and free-flowing information buzz, one used to be able to access so easily. He didn't really know what was going on outside Australia, and he wished he did.

  He was getting restless, starting to feel that DPF was playing too defensively, taking baby steps into the wilds and not bringing the fight back to demons as they should. Tom was smart enough to understand that there must have been a bigger picture to all of this, but being alone in the wilds with nobody really explaining what was going on outside their tunnel-visioned lives started slowly getting to him.

  When this morning Betty transmitted new orders, Tom thought it's going to be another usual patrol of the outer ridges, possibly taking him right to the edge of Sydney borders where DPF was reporting occasional action, if he was lucky.

  To his surprise, the mission was quite unusual, revealing details of a military unit that was supposed to reach Mulgoa Outpost a day ago, but never making it to their destination. Specific details were omitted in the report, but it was implied that communication with the group of 5 operatives was lost, and only their last location was transmitted by one of their ETA implants.

  That all sounded extremely irregular, but Tom was initially excited to be given a mission that actually suggested some investigative action, outside of routine duties he was getting sick of by now. Moving towards reported coordinates where DPF unit was last spotted on the map, Tom noticed this group of floating demonic scavengers this close to Sydney.

  Holos were known to sometimes appear from the low winter clouds to perform a quick--and usually suicidal for them--attack on an armored cargo convoy, but casually hovering like this over the snowy ruins of what used to be Sydney Western Suburbs was unheard of.

  He was close to the dead and long abandoned Penrith area. There was no living soul around it for miles, with only Mulgoa outpost providing ground-based shelter and fortification for passing cargo convoys, and DPF agents requiring emergency supplies or any other help should they experience trouble in the area.

  Mulgoa was a tiny fortified outpost, operated by a small military brigade fully consisting of augs, as Central Command would never risk posting a possession-prone human this close to the virtual border of Sydney protection. It was one of the two remaining little settlements in the proximity of Blue Mountains area. The other one was a lot larger and better fortified lumber-harvesting camp of Katoomba, that Sydney did everything to protect from demons, even though technically it was located behind the enemy lines.

  DPF tried to establish more outposts similar to Mulgoa on the way to Katoomba, making sure lumber harvesting and cargo flights could operate more smoothly and regularly, but failed to hold the new spots against demons a year back, never repeating the attempt. Holding Katoomba and Mulgoa seemed good enough for now, and Central did not authorise any further advancement action.

  Tom didn't know what they were waiting for, thinking of high-ranking military and DPF officials as fat big-wig theoreticians who slept at night covered with electric blankets, while the rest of Sydney was burning coal and scarce wood delivered from the mountains.

  Spotting the rogue holos, Tom immediately decided to investigate what they were doing in the area, deviating from his original mission a little. Advanced optics and Betty's reports allowed Tom to keep his distance, but not lose his slowly traveling targets.

  These holos didn't appear to have a clear direction or purpose, keeping close to the ground, changing their movement vector frequently and not speeding up much. This made following them a on foot a lot easier.

  "What the hell are you doing out here?" Tom muttered.

  He didn't expect any response from his dead surroundings. He already reported his discovery to Central Command, and was not surprised to hear that his orders remained to keep going to Mulgoa, and leave demons alone. This was not the first time Tom disobeyed them. It's not like he saw a holo often these days, so he was not going to miss this chance.

  DPF was discovering new and not yet seen types of demons rather regularly, collating data received from around the World united by the common threat. Holos however were known from almost the very first encounters with invaders, representing the most primitive type.

  Appearing least intelligent or autonomous of all demons, they were one of the very few that didn't need a local host to stay active and dangerous. Holos could travel for miles away from the main invasion points, seemingly self-controlled and driven by usually simple goal - seek and destroy. Up to half a meter in diameter, seen in groups of five to fifteen, those demonic piranhas now hovered about a meter above the frozen ground, appearing idle and harmless.

  Like a bunch of grey helium balloons some kid left behind at what must have been a pretty sad party.

  While most demons tried to possess humans first, holos went for the kill straight away, consuming their victims after. Scavengers of the demonic world now trying to make our home their own, threw themselves at high attack speeds at the target, ripping through flesh and bone like cannonballs that didn't explode on impact. Then they circled back to pick up whatever was left of their victim. And they cleaned up good after themselves, leaving nothing behind.

  Tom was always careful, keeping his distance from targets, paying attention to direction of wind and how much body heat he was producing. "It's not the strongest who survive. It's the careful ones." His late dad used to be an army sniper in his day, and Tom remembered those words very well. Even though sometimes they sounded in his head like a distant echo of a memory he wasn't even sure was his own anymore.

  He slowly rolled to the left side of his body, letting the right warm up a bit. Silicone and metal that his left shoulder, leg, and most of the chest were made of didn't mind cold at all.

  "You'd better move soon, little buggers, I don't have all day." Tom muttered under his breath.

  And rogue holos didn't make him wait much longer. First one, then another, and the rest of the group, they sped up vertically, like a little swarm of extremely fat grey bees, changing direction together, and heading parallel to the ground towards his position.

  Tom was experienced enough to understand that he couldn't take them all out from this distance. 10 targets traveled at a speed of an average car in spread formation, over the frozen terrain. There was a good chance they were moving for reasons other than noticing him. He was hoping it was just bad luck - random call their leader must have made, picking the next coordinate for the swarm to move to.

  "Body heat at 14%, detection dista
nce 0.7 meters." Betty's reports were always cold and precise, sometimes showing attempts of the Artificial Intelligence to randomize the vocabulary, and appear a bit more human to the agent. This wasn't one of those cases.

  He rolled back to his right side, synthetic parts now facing up, holding his breath and hoping holos won't notice him. Betty was smart enough to understand when to shut up, so she did without Tom needing to smack his ear.

  Few long seconds later - WHOOSHH - holos flew overhead, back in the direction he originally came from. Luckily demons were not known to pay particular attention to footprints or other types of human tracks, which in all fairness would be pretty hard to notice in this shitty weather.

  "Not slowing down, plotting movement vector and new coordinates on your map." Betty was having just another day in the office.

  "What the--" Tom didn't finish whatever he wanted to share with the piece of thinking electronics implanted in his head.

  Ground shook as if a big explosion went off not far away. He could hear a distant thud, followed by a gust of wind, and prickly blizzard of dirty snow caused by the heavy impact. Tom didn't lift his head and couldn't see what it was from his somewhat sunken position. All he could tell was that something heavy hit the ground within a couple of kilometers from him. Right now Tom only hoped that holos keep holding their course.

  "2 targets, returning fast to your position." Betty reported.

  Sometimes Tom wanted to have a word with whoever programmed the damned thing to sound so impartial and not caring, no matter what happened. One couldn't argue with the efficiency of the program though.

  "Thanks babe," he quickly raised his body up on one knee, stock of his automatic rifle firmly pressed against the cold right and still human shoulder, left robotic arm supporting the fore grip. Finding two quickly approaching grey balloons didn't take long.