Hostseeker: Survive Demonic Apocalypse Read online

  He squeezed the trigger. BOOM! He fired two more shots rapidly.

  First holo didn't see the danger until it was too late for it. Plasma shot hit it right in the center, sending conscience that was piloting it back to wherever it came from. Demon hit the frozen ground almost without a sound, but Tom knew that it was not because it weighed nothing, but due to how fast dead demons fell apart in our atmosphere.

  Second demon saw the tracer and did a barrel roll in the air, trying to avoid the shots. It escaped the first one, but got hit by the second one almost point-blank, flying past and dangerously close to Tom's head, hitting the pile of snow right behind him.

  "Are you getting lazy in there?" Tom expected usual targets down confirmation. Constant auto-scan for active threats was one of the benefits of the stock equipment he got used to.

  Silence. He tapped his ear, like someone was actually living inside of it. It appeared like nobody was home anymore. Communication lines were down, assistant appeared dead like the rest of the wasteland around him.

  Tom carefully stood up, finally able to stretch his legs, looking around in a bit of a daze. He looked at the hole dying holo made in the snow behind him before disintegrating. It appeared big. Of course with heat and all, it must have melted some around itself, but it was still larger than normal.

  He wiped his goggles and side of the helmet again - his glove was covered with demonic residue. Those were not known to be contagious or anything, but deep-buried human reflex made Tom feel weird about what just happened, immediately suggesting that dying holo must have emitted some sort of electromagnetic field that knocked out Betty.

  "Bloody hell." Tom felt more shaken than shooting a couple of holos should have made him feel. He suddenly felt reckless and stupid for letting those get so close to him. "Am I getting old or something? What the hell is wrong with me..."

  He wasn't one to bash himself unnecessarily under normal circumstances, and was actually known as a rather jolly guy with a dry sense of humor. But in this case the feeling of stress and disappointment took over for a few seconds. All the negatives of actually being augmented human showed their cracks.

  Tom slowly brushed the snow off his military pants and jacket, then stretched his arms and back feeling stiff after lying without movement for a while.

  "It's cool man. It's cool," he tried to let out a deep breath calming himself down, "now which way did she say that outpost was?"

  Chapter 2

  Tom walked in the cold for about an hour. He had a pretty good idea where he was before the unfortunate holo encounter, and which way should take him to Mulgoa outpost. The bitter taste of disappointment started to wear off a bit by now, giving way to his usual more positive and focused outlook.

  "Shouldn't be far now," he said to himself. He suddenly realised how much a little piece of electronics that used to talk to him all the time actually meant out here, in the abandoned part of the old world. "They'll have repair bots, and medbay - you'll be good as new."

  Another half an hour of brisk walk through the low frozen bush, around piles of old barely identifiable rubble, trying not to make much noise, Tom arrived at a small hill, overlooking what used to be the bank of Nepean River - the natural divide of Penrith from Blue Mountains area.

  Whatever was left of the water was now frozen solid at the bottom of the muddy river bed, showing sunken and decayed tree trunks, burnt out and crushed cars, and broken concrete blocks from the remains of M4 motorway nearby.

  Tom saw distant smoke coming up from something he couldn't get a clear view of for a while now, not letting himself accept the only reasonable explanation that it must be coming from the outpost. He lowered himself to the ground yet again, sliding to the top of the overlook and using terrain to cover his vantage point as much as possible.

  His hi-tech rifle had an amazing scope, which yet again reminded him how much he's been taking for granted lately. Having autonomous EMP-resistant power source, compared to his head-implanted electronics, scope was fully functional, gladly zooming in the area Tom was observing, as well as giving him the whole shebang of tactical numbers - distance to focal point, elevation, direction of wind, and compass.

  Nothing was moving around and ahead of him, but he saw the outline of whatever was left of Mulgoa Outpost very well from his sniping position.

  Heavy thud he heard earlier that alarmed the group of holos must have been a single precisely targeted demonic bombardment shell that hit the outpost right in the center, destroying the main buildings, and effectively making the whole small construction implode.

  Demons used to bombard human settlements before commencing ground assault in the previous instances, like a textbook-trained army with air support. Their airstrikes however always resembled a volley, rather than any form of precise orbital targeting, like the one Tom was clearly looking at right now.

  Rusty fortified metal walls of the outpost were still standing, but bent heavily inwards, as if some titanic force sucked them towards its center, like petals of a weird huge flower closing down for the night without sun. Smoke was coming up from the very center of this grotesque picture, where the crater from the impact must have been located.

  Tom took his time scoping the whole area, but couldn't see much else. The outpost appeared completely dead, or abandoned.

  No burning fire, no lights, no bodies around the visible area, no signs of a firefight, or any other kind of assault that he could imagine demons would undertake. He stayed still for a few more minutes, quietly observing the area, trying to spot anything else that could save his life. He really missed his scanning assistant right now.

  Finally he decided to descend towards the outpost, picking the path from the side most protected by rubble, piles of hard snow, and frozen trees. He was getting cold, and that most certainly meant that his batteries started to run low. There was no one in his ear to tell him exactly how long he had before energy levels become critical, and he'd have to find a way to recharge, if he wanted to stay mobile.

  He needed to get into that outpost, fast.

  Few minutes later, Tom reached the thick outer wall. It looked much taller now than from the distance. Knowing that the gate would be sealed--and nobody appeared to be expecting guests--he didn't count on knocking on the front door.

  He had a hook and rope in his backpack. A good swing over the wall, barely audible metallic clang on the other side, and he could feel that the hook was solid enough to hold his weight.. Tom pulled himself up to the top of the wall. His gear felt heavy. Now at the top, he could see the whole small courtyard of the old outpost, or what was left of it anyway.

  As he imagined, a large crater from the impact was in the very middle of it, surrounded by broken concrete rubble and debris. There were dead bodies everywhere. The blast wave from the impact must have been the strongest here, killing the guards posted outside instantly, and crushing the rest of the brigade who would have been in the central building under it.

  Some of the smaller buildings on the edges of almost circular outpost layout inside of the protective walls were still standing. Tom hoped to find survivors and some repair equipment there. Any extra supplies would be welcome too. He jumped off the wall and rolled forward as he hit the ground, to soften the landing.

  He froze for a second, listening to anything moving inside the perimeter. It was all quiet. He was alone.

  Moving from body to body, he got whatever he could salvage from the pockets of dead DPF guys - few ammo clips, field wifi charger, a couple of batteries. Who knew if those would work after being in proximity of a blast like that, but there was no time to check on the spot. He didn't know these guys. Mulgoa was known to be autonomous for months, and he never had anything to do with supply drops or lumber cargo escorts, so there was no reason to personally know anyone in the stationed unit.

  Tom moved towards the perimeter buildings, looking forward to hide from snow and wind for a little bit. The door of the first one wasn't locked, he turned the handle and enter
ed - gun barrel first. It was dark inside and the room was small. He knew this should be the right place, as it was built like a standard supply storage block, or something similar.

  He flicked the switch at the bottom of his rifle's fore grip. Brightly lit circle of white focused light from his gun torch pierced through the darkness surrounding him. Shelves, filed documents, turned off desktop computer, door on the left to another room. Tom turned the door handle carefully, and pushed it open with his left shoulder. He felt increasing desperation in his own actions.

  BINGO! Three metal cases of field repair packs, standard issue for DPF right in front of him on the storage shelf. Those precious multipurpose pieces of hi-tech goodness were built to withstand almost any punishment while sealed, and could do wonders to an augmented human in need, once opened.

  Tom put the gun on the floor next to him--torch light still on--and sat down his back leaning against the wall. He read the field manual on how to use these things many times, and even saw one from the back row of seats during one of the training sessions, but never opened one himself so far.

  "Okay, here we go..." he said, breaking the seal of the outer container, then pushing the lid open all the way.

  Pleasant green light filled the room, projecting from the opened repair pack case.

  "State the nature of your emergency please." The voice of this medical guide was female just like the one Tom came here to repair, but sounded warmer and more pleasant. His mind was probably playing tricks on him.

  "Yeah, ummm, my ETA is down, " Tom exhaled. It was weird to suddenly talk aloud after hours of tense silence, even if the conversation was not with another human, "Electronic Tactical Assistant was damaged by a demon, I mean--"

  "Issue Type 304 identified and confirmed... local network established... trying to uplink and reboot your ETA, please stand by."

  The medical bot girl sounded good looking, Tom thought. Such a pleasant voice! Although his dad told him there used to be all sorts of ladies working at the support call center he dealt with years ago, but most had amazing phone manner and most beautiful voices. He called them "sirens". His dad was a rare joker. Tom still missed him a lot.

  "OUCH! WHAT THE...?!" Tom cried out as unexpected jolt of electricity pierced his ear canal, as the med bot was clearly trying to shock his assistant back to life. "Are you trying to kill me or something?!!"

  Short pain immediately subsided, as he heard the familiar - BLING BLING BLING - of embedded ETA interface coming back online.

  "Welcome back baby!" He was genuinely happy and excited not to be alone anymore. "And, ahem... thanks to you too, miss." He knew medical bot had a short life span and probably wasn't scanning his speech for gratitude or acknowledgments.

  "3 humanoid targets... no friendly radio-code detected... 12 meters away, and approaching your position." Betty was back in business.

  Tom's heart dropped. His right thumb pushed his rifle's safety off, and then slid the semi-automatic mode switch on the side. He heard sniping barrel slowly retracting, transforming the rifle into shape more suitable for close quarters firefight.

  "Get me Central! Give me something!" He blurted out, jumping back to his feet clutching rifle in his hand. "Start charging me right now, hit me baby, you've detected batteries and charger in the backpack, right?"

  "Can't reach Central network at this moment... Augmentations charging... Batteries at 17%, full charge in 43 minutes." Betty was doing what she could, with very little time they both apparently had.

  CRASH!

  The wall of the building suddenly cracked and crumbled from a titanic hit of sorts, that was impossible to identify from where Tom was standing. Luckily he was up against the opposite wall, and only got showered with splinters and dust.

  TA-TA-TA!

  Tom fired a rapid burst in the direction of crumbled wall opening, and rolled onto the ground, sideways and out of the building. TA-TA-TA! He fired again, without aiming. He couldn't see his targets in the raised cloud of dust and snow.

  BANG! BANG! BANG! They were firing at him. Demons. Who else? Still lurking inside the dead outpost though? Or possessed humans? But there shouldn't be any in the area!

  Thoughts were a bit jumbled but lightning fast in his head. He saw silhouettes of the attackers now, definitely humanoid and hostile, otherwise at least ETA cross-link would have been established by now, as well as friend-foe electronic identification must have passed...

  Tom didn't feel hurt. His own luck, or demonic lack of skill with possessed human firearms were clearly saving his day so far. He rolled forward again, then quickly getting back to his feet and dashing towards the outposts rear wall, leaving as much debris and other crushed surroundings between himself and his pursuers as he could.

  He stopped behind a bunch of solid-looking boxes, seeking support for his sniper rifle. His fingers flicked the automatic switch back, gun barrel was extending again. A second later, two heavy looking figures appeared front and center, slowly jogging straight at him, like they were not in a hurry. He couldn't see the third one.

  "No sign of the third target." He could swear Betty must have read his thoughts somehow. He refused to believe that a bunch of lines of code and a piece of electronics manufactured in bulk for DPF soldiers could show that much tactical intelligence on its own.

  BOOM. BOOM. He fired two shots, one at each target. There was no chance he could miss, and no human armor could stop a plasma bolt from this distance.

  "Targets down." Betty confirmed his kills.

  "Now you're talking!" Tom cheered up a bit, still looking for the third assailant, "where is number three?"

  "No sign of the third target." Betty was rarely wrong. Tom stood up and walked towards the dead bodies.

  The closest one was of a large man, wearing DPF military uniform, almost identical to his own. Tom's plasma shot hit him in between solar plexus and the neck, burning a large dark hole all the way through. The wound was immediately cauterized by the burn from the shot.

  He could see melted silicone and metal on the edges of the wound. The DPF soldier was an aug, same as Tom.

  "What in God's name--" Tom couldn't believe his eyes. "Get me Central. Do whatever the hell you have to, baby, I need them to see this."

  He knew Betty was probably already on it. She was. Tom heard beeping sound of established direct comms link with the base.

  "Agent 245, report." Hearing human voice for the first time in months almost shocked him. Tom even paused for a second thinking how to best start a conversation with another living being, rather than bark an order at always listening Betty.

  "Yeah... Agent 245 here. I'm at Mulgoa outpost, everyone is dead." That was a good start of a conversation, he thought.

  "Receiving your assistant's scan of surroundings now... Who are the targets in front of you?" Operator asked.

  "Appear to be DPF soldiers. Let me look at the face closer, are you getting the feed? Can you ID them?" As an aug Tom had a lot of useful parts in his body, including embedded retinal cameras that could both receive and capture real-time video.

  Operator didn't confirm anything. Tom forgot DPF protocol for a second.

  "Thank you for the report," Tom thought that Operator's voice changed a bit. He sensed hesitation but knew that asking questions won't give him anything useful right now. "We will send squad 17 to clean up. You are to leave the area immediately and proceed along M4 to Leura. Further instructions will follow."

  "Leura is in Blue Mountains!" Tom couldn't believe Central was sending him further away from better protected Sydney perimeter. "What am I supposed to do there?! Hunt squirrels?"

  "There are two repair stations on your way, and there is no demonic activity detected along the main highway clearing all the way to Katoomba. You should be safe as long as you don't wander off into the woods." Operator tried to be helpful. This didn't reassure Tom much.

  He closed the link, being once again alone with his rifle and Betty, in the cold middle of nowhere. What do they want w
ith him deeper in the mountains? Send a new squad with fresh batteries and warm butts instead! Tom felt like he deserved a break.

  Unfortunately these were not the type of orders he could treat loosely, and Betty was programmed to see that he followed critical ones, reporting any misconduct immediately. Tom often thought of his tactical implant as a Big Sister, who was normally there to help, but wouldn't think twice before telling mum if he did something wrong.

  The situation unfolding in front of him was clearly out of ordinary. As much as he hated the idea to jog through hostile territory awaiting further instructions, part of him suspected that Central Command had good reasons to send him there.

  He fixed his backpack, checked the belt and the zipper on his warm field jacket, glancing over the outpost wall he was about to climb over yet again.

  He was only an aug field agent and not any kind of analyst, but it didn't require a genius to process what he was really looking at, or how important the discovery was. Demons must have found a way to possess non-organics, similar to himself.

  Chapter 3

  Tom was still a bit cranky about Central's decision to send him further out into the wilds, after all that he'd done already. He deserved a break and full recharge. It was clear that they were sending him for debrief into a safe remote location, away from prying ears of any other ways to spread panic among DPF personnel.

  Still felt unfair though. He completed his immediate mission - the patrol he was looking for never made it to Mulgoa, as humans anyway. But the discovery he made at Mulgoa was obviously important than standard protocols - demonic possession of non-organics was a HUGE deal, that could change everything for DPF.

  Augs were built, trained and sent into the wilds on the premise that they can't be possessed, and are effectively immune to enemy's biggest weapon, having a real chance in a fight against any demon known to man so far. Demonic Purge Force he was part of was the reason humanity still existed and more or less knew what demons were up to. Augs tracked their movements across the land, warning about imminent attacks, extracting tactical information from the areas no other human being would dare visiting these days.