Hostseeker: Survive Demonic Apocalypse Page 5

  Powered by compact high pressured gas containers attached to its handle, nail thrower could hit targets with surprising accuracy and force at close range. Michelle tried it a few times on the logs at the back of the outpost, and decided that it would have to do.

  "We need to go," she said.

  Michelle knew something out of ordinary was going on, and it didn't look like the situation was under control. They needed to leave this place before it's too late.

  As they rushed out of their little living block, she saw what the others were looking at outside of their block. Lumber Saw - huge piece of machinery, three-storey house tall, on tank-like treads, almost as tall as protective wall of their outpost. It must have crashed through the outer outpost gate, returning from the woods where it was cutting down trees for days. It didn't look like an accident though, as the machine was still moving, crushing guard tower and people in it, as it kept rolling right into the middle of their little camp.

  Michelle could not see who was the driver in the cabin, in all the fire and smoke surrounding it. DPF guards were already shooting at it.

  Lumber-harvesting machinery was huge, made of thick metal, but not specifically armored to withstand plasma shots from DPF pulse rifles, so Michelle clearly saw how those were going straight through where the driver was normally located - at the very top of this menacing semi-automatic construction that was making their jobs so much easier for all these months. Whoever was driving it couldn't have survived the aimed fire, she thought.

  She wasn't going to risk Jason's life just standing there and waiting to see what happens any longer. They were following their own evacuation plan, running to one of the service 4 wheel drives parked at the back gate. Light vehicles were not used outside these days, and were mostly driven only inside the mill perimeter. Michelle had keys to one of them.

  They could still hear heavy gunfire and scary clanking of humongous metal plates lumber saw was made of when they reached the vehicle. Michelle's hands were shaking as she opened the door, pushing Jason inside, throwing her backpack and the weapon in. She glanced back at the outpost's courtyard.

  The Saw was still alive. It didn't look immobilized or moving by inertia. There was purpose in it's destructive motion, with huge robotic saw-arms flailing around, crushing buildings and sweeping tiny DPF defenders in front of it. One of the threads was broken by a grenade blast, probably, with another one still spinning and trying to push forward. It made the whole tall silhouette of it rotate in one spot, like a grotesque raging giant from an old sci-fi movie.

  She noticed something else.

  There were more of their lumber-harvesting machinery pushing through the breach lumber saw giant made in the protective perimeter wall. Like a little army of suddenly angry tractors and other stuff that's supposed to be helping people, now trying to reach them with no good intent.

  "What's happening, mum?..." Jason muttered.

  The view didn't make any sense at all. Later Michelle thought maybe she should have taken someone else with them, but at that moment there was no time for hesitation. She just wanted to save Jason and escape whatever the insane spectacle was unfolding before their eyes.

  She turned the key in the ignition, half expecting that the engine might not start. It did. Michelle drove the car around to the unattended service entrance at the back, stopped at the empty guard post and pressed the lonely red button on the dashboard. Heavy gate started sliding open.

  A minute later the truck stormed out of the mill's perimeter, heading down the narrow forest road, towards the old town centre of now completely abandoned Katoomba. Then it shouldn't be far until the highway, she thought.

  She couldn't tell how long they drove down the slippery narrow gravel road between the natural walls made of tree trunks on their left and right, before road turned into a muddy snowy mess. Piles of broken concrete and rubble suggested that they've reached where the main highway to Sydney used to be. It was clear than a lonely car buzzing between more and more frequent obstacles would be noticed sooner rather than later, which left Michelle with only one choice.

  "We'll continue on foot, honey," she felt so guilty before Jason, who hasn't said much more than "Yeah" and "I'm okay" since they left the outpost, "less chances anyone will notice us. We'll be okay, I promise."

  And they were okay, carefully choosing their way through the bush along the main road, spending sleepless nights inside abandoned houses and barns, getting closer and closer to the rest of surviving human kind. Michelle's radio didn't catch any channels that could help them. One invisible trail that demons left behind for months after sweeping through the area was unexplainable radio wave dampening, or suppression field of sorts, that limited communication via small portable devices, disconnecting survivors from the rest of the living world even further.

  She knew that DPF units had some special means to communicate with their headquarters, but even those were limited and worked only from a certain distance their specially encoded signal could reach. Michelle hoped that her radio would also catch some waves as they get closer to Sydney. They had no luck so far.

  This morning it became clear that Michelle hoped they'd reach human settlements quicker than they actually managed to move through the bush so far. They were running out of food, Jason looked cold. The old hard-copy of the map suggested that they should have been pretty close to Nepean river by now, with a few little towns not far from the destroyed highway that they've been trying to not lose sight of, as their only true directional guide.

  "They must have an old supermarket there or something we could check out for food," Michelle frantically thought to herself, trying to look more confident when talking to Jason, who was really holding on like a little trooper all the way. The sight of him cold and hungry was breaking her heart.

  It was early morning of the fourth day of her and Jason's stressful journey from Katoomba down to Sydney borders, when they stumbled upon Tom's misadventures.

  Michelle was still beating herself up for deciding to interfere and save him from the raptors, exposing themselves and risking Jason's life by trying to save someone else's. It was the human compassion instinct that would take much longer to completely forget.

  "It will all pay off, " she told herself, "maybe we wouldn't have made it to Sydney on our own, and saving this guy will give us a chance."

  Chapter 7

  "Can I walk?" Tom was talking to Betty, "we need to make it to the closest repair station asap, or I won't be able to unzip my own pants without someone's help..."

  Tom didn't want to sound rude or ungrateful to the two scared people in front of him, but old habits of being a half-human wasteland recluse were dying very slowly. He was sitting up with his back against the cold cave wall, checking now very limited movement of both his arms, and taking in more detail of the mess he's gotten into this morning. His head was still a bit hazy.

  "You lost a lot of blood, but luckily you don't need as much now," Betty tried to sound reassuring, "your wounds are sealed for now, and toxins from the bites are neutralised for 24 hours per syringe. We have 4 left."

  "You didn't answer my question," Tom knew he couldn't blame Betty for everything that happened this morning, but was still grumpy about not receiving timely warning from her, "and what were you thinking letting me step right into that raptor nest?"

  "It wasn't a nest," Jason was keen to answer man's question who seemed to have been talking to himself, "it looked like they were just sweeping the area".

  "Thanks, kid, I wasn't talking to you." Tom was not doing well trying to be civil to people who saved his life, "ugh, I'm sorry mate... Computer in my head is supposed to tell me smart things, but turns out she is not as smart after all. You lucky you can't hear her rubbish all the time! Hah!"

  Michelle knew Jason wasn't easily offended. Otherwise she probably would have shot the man point blank with her nail thrower, pinning him against the cave wall to hang in here forever, or until scavenging demons eventually find him. She w
as overprotective of her son, and was not going to hide it. This wasn't the time though, and she knew the agent was heavily hit and probably not thinking straight.

  "Yes, you can walk, slowly, " Betty replied, "but you won't be able to run. I would recommend you to pace yourself, as we were barely able to animate you just now."

  "How close is the RS?" Tom felt weird to be suddenly relying on chance that demons won't find them, and whatever limited defensive power that civilian lady could offer him while he was weak, "we need that repair station to patch me up as soon as possible, you know it!"

  "There is one back at Gladston, unless it's destroyed by bombardment," Betty was cold but factual with Tom, pretty much always, "I have no data on its current condition, and can't access Central comms network."

  Tom glanced over at Michelle. She looked like a fit woman in her mid-forties, who hasn't slept or properly rested for days.

  "I'm sorry, ma'am, and thanks..." Tom couldn't recognise the tone of his own voice, and felt really awkward saying the words that were like foreign language to him, hanging out for that long with Betty and occasional other DPF wastelanders, "I know you guys saved my ass back there. Whatever was left of it anyway! Heh."

  Michelle could tell that Tom was pretty bad at small-talk, or being polite to people, but he was clearly trying. She wasn't much of a talker herself, having spent last year fixated on Jason, her job and their survival, so she wasn't blaming the rough looking man in front of her for his lack of manners.

  "It's okay," she cleared her throat, "we were heading to Sydney from the mountains. Lumber mill is gone, I think."

  The next hour was spent in introductions, and Michelle telling Tom about what happened to them at Katoomba. She didn't go too much into personal detail, and mostly described what she did for work, and the weird glitch or whatever caused their harvesting machinery turn on the humans in the vicinity.

  Tom was much better at listening than he was at talking. The woman's story was disturbing, but not sounding made up, and he knew that Betty was recording every word of it to send the full report to Central at the first possible moment.

  Michelle felt that she actually needed to speak to another human being about her worries, even softly phrased because Jason was still around. She asked if DPF knew anything about rebelling machinery, or about the trouble at Katoomba mill, but Tom just shook his head - he didn't have to lie or conceal any truth. He never heard of any such thing.

  Tom was a DPF agent, still bound by protocols and his common sense, and couldn't tell Michelle anything about his own mission, or why exactly was he in that God forsaken area. It was clear though that the best way forward, was to go back, to the protection of Sydney walls, and proper debrief on all the weird happenings with DPF.

  It didn't take them long to agree that they'll have to try and make it to Gladston before it gets dark, going to the location of that repair station Betty was talking about. How exactly they'd reach Sydney once Tom is patched up was not clear at this stage, as there were too many variables still up in the air. They both understood that they'll need to take it all one step at a time, hoping that the next one isn't going to be their last.

  It was clear that they'd need to stick together though, as the benefits of it were outweighing negatives for both adults. Michelle needed Tom's military radio channels and Betty to sweep the area more efficiently, protecting her and Jason on their remaining journey. Tom knew that he is not mobile enough to move on his own through the bush and cross-country, also needing someone who could actually shoot straight for a change.

  After short deliberation, he decided to improve their chances a bit further.

  "Jason." Tom called the boy, "have you seen one of these before?"

  He was pointing at the rifle with his partially functioning arm. Tom knew Michelle wouldn't approve, but looked at her in a "What other choice do we have?" way, and she suppressed her desire to interfere, not saying anything. Her son was old enough, and the man didn't look like someone totally reckless.

  "No," answered Jason with noticeable excitement in his breaking voice, "as in, I've seen the guards carrying them, but never held one before."

  "That's not a bad thing, buddy, but today you might have to," Tom was amazed at his own suddenly discovered level of diplomacy dealing with a really young boy, "this is what you call a plasma rifle. I won't give you the proper military name, because who cares, right?"

  "Right," Jason had a glimpse of a smile, moving closer to Tom, "are you going to show me how to use it?"

  "I won't be able to really show you, because it needs two hands to hold it properly." Tom said.

  He felt like he was gambling again, but this time the price of a loss or miscalculation could be much higher than losing his own life. He did not have a choice though. They needed extra firepower, and he himself wasn't much of a help yet.

  "But I'll explain as much as I can, with it being disarmed first," he continued, "don't want you to shoot me or your mum accidentally, right?"

  Tom could tell that Jason was a serious boy, who wouldn't just play with the loaded gun given to him.

  "Severe violation of DPF weapons handling policy: giving your weapon over to civilians and instructing them in how to use it," Betty still had formal rules to follow, not being a fully autonomous unit, "as it's not prudent to issue a virtual arrest and shut you down internally right now, I'll have to report you, Thomas Benjamin, as soon as I can connect to Central's network..."

  "And I'll rip you right out of my ear as soon as I know you've done it, Betty!" Tom flared up in anger.

  He knew she was just doing her job, but couldn't fully contain his frustration. He also hoped that advanced piece of electronics being just a bit short of a fully self-aware Artificial Intelligence would be able to put together additional facts that justify his actions.

  "Look," Tom continued, "we won't make it without additional firepower - end of the story. I'm recruiting this civilian who already displayed courage to save a field agent in need, and is fully grown to handle a weapon to defend the agent on his way to safety. DPF protocol point 14.2, or something like that... Go read your bloody records, or better shove them!"

  Handling weapons and shooting stuff was not the only things Tom remembered from his DPF training. There were other useful points he picked up over time, if he thought knowing some things might save his life one day. It was a while ago, and Tom was admittedly surprised that memory served him well this time, when one would expect it to be least responsive.

  "Hundred and forty two, Thomas," Betty sounded like an annoyed sister, or a wife who was not happy to stand corrected, "the whole Agent in Need clause. Reasoning accepted, until debrief at DPF headquarters."

  Some more time had passed with Tom explaining to Jason how to hold the rifle so that he doesn't shoot himself or anyone else accidentally. He made Jason put the gun behind his back on a strap, and then assume firing position when Tom gave command.

  "Safety switch is here, it doesn't go off until you're ready to fire, you hear me? And don't touch any of these sliders - you shouldn't need to." Tom thought he sounded like a DPF Drill Sergeant who he used to mock with his mates back at the training camp, and was pleased with how obedient and actually good at handling the weapon Jason was. The boy was clearly excited to be taken seriously, and given a vital task, probably for the first time in his life.

  Michelle didn't say much during the whole time of Tom's arguments with Betty, just closely watching Tom instruct Jason. She wasn't happy about it all, and already accepted the fact that she probably won't be able to fully stop beating herself up until they are somewhere properly safe, and when all of this is over. It had to end at some point.

  It was getting dark and cold, as the sun was setting earlier in the mountains, and low gray clouds made the day seem even shorter. It was clear that they can't go anywhere after dark, and that they won't reach Gladston while it's still light. They were settling in for the night.

  Betty was their main hope for not f
alling victims to being snuck upon during the night, although Tom now had his reservations, after what happened with the raptors incident.

  "Maybe she is damaged somehow, beyond the quick reboot that medical bot from the field repair kit could fix her?" Tom didn't have answers, only more questions piling up in his hurting head. "One day at a time, let's survive the night good-old way".

  They decided who will take first watch, switching between him, Michelle, and Jason. The boy was given the shortest time-gap, even though he looked like he needed sleep the least of them all. Tom suddenly felt responsible for those two - a feeling he hadn't really known before, where his whole life was concentrated on the dangerous job that chose him, and his own survival.

  The sleepless night fell. And then there was another cold morning.

  Chapter 8

  They left the cave shortly after dawn. The air was crisp and frosty on their cheeks, it was cold. But at least the weather was relatively nice overall, with clouds looking thinner in some spots, providing effect of brightly lit background lamp, dampened a bit by a matte glass cover.

  Tom was struggling to walk up the hill, as Betty promised, limping heavily on his right leg that felt a bit numb from cauterisation and all the chemicals injected into it. He had his handgun in the holster, the only weapon he could still use with one arm, if he shot from the hip, rather than trying to properly aim extending his arm as one would. Ability to handle one of his firearms and not being completely helpless made him feel a bit better though, and he couldn't wait to reach that repair station somewhere up ahead.

  Michelle was following second, with heavy nail thrower and her backpack that she managed to fit all their remaining possessions into. She was periodically looking back at Jason and asking him if he needs a hand with any of his load, only to hear slightly annoyed "I'm fine mum, I told you five minutes ago."