Half Life: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Next Book 6) Read online

  “So you’re going to do it,” Rachel said. “Put us all out of our misery.”

  “I’m just following orders.”

  “But I thought you were in charge now,” DeVontay said. These military bozos were impossible to figure out, hiding behind all their buzzwords and bullshit codes of honor. At least the end of the world had one upside: the end of macho nationalism.

  “I made a pledge to my president,” Ziminski said. “She trusted me to see it through.”

  “But you can call it off if you want,” Rachel said. “We know about the abort confirmation that NORAD’s waiting for.”

  “That’s a fail-safe.” The captain stared at the map as if he could burn the imaginary Zap cities with his eyes. “The weird thing about this mission is failure is the only way we can win.”

  “Mutually assured destruction,” the lieutenant called from the radio desk. She’d been so quiet that DeVontay had forgotten about her. She spoke the damning phrase with such calm resignation that she’d obviously had time to get used to the idea.

  Well, so have I. Ever since Day One, I’ve been ready to die. But the longer I’m not dead, the more I don’t want to be.

  “What does any of that have to do with me?” Rachel asked.

  “Because I want to give peace a chance,” Ziminski said.

  “Is that a joke?” DeVontay’s face tightened in anger, but the young officer didn’t react.

  Instead, he pointed to the ragged map. “Here’s the closest verified dome. Sixty miles north to Mt. Airy, near the Virginia border. General Alexander had the Hundred-and-First camped near there a year ago. Zaps must’ve established the city as a defensive structure.”

  “Far enough away that if we dig a deep enough hole, we’ll survive the first wave and experience the joys of thyroid cancer. Or maybe we should head east right now, take one of those trucks and try to make the coast. Bound to be plenty of docked boats. Float out into the gulf stream and wait for all the radiation to blow over.”

  “You forget the part where Zaps are pumping out their own poisons. Restraint isn’t really an option. We die either way.”

  Rachel folded her arms and leaned against the gray concrete wall, as casual as the captain. She was unfazed by the previous night’s attack. Her quiet strength was one of the traits DeVontay deeply admired. But then, she’d danced across the boundary of life and death several times since they’d met, and he couldn’t be sure which trait was natural and which was infused by the mutants.

  “I already tried diplomacy,” Rachel said. “I was like a mother to Kokona. And still she was willing to sacrifice me to gain more power. You’re still thinking of Zaps in human terms. Neither logic nor emotion mean a damn thing to them.”

  “I admit I don’t understand them,” Ziminski said. “That’s why we need you.”

  “We can’t even be sure it’s inhabited. They’ve developed an organic, sentient metal. The city might’ve built itself and discovered it had no more need of the mutants.”

  “Well, something has to be running it. The Blackhawk conducted an aerial surveillance and observed movement, and we picked up readings of those unidentified toxins in the atmosphere.”

  “But did you see any Zaps?” DeVontay asked.

  “No visual confirmation. But we saw activity.”

  “We saw fucking metal mutants and robot monsters that acted like they all worked from the same brain. I doubt they have any interest in giving peace a chance, going along to get along, or working within the system for positive change. If those cities are actually living and thinking, then they don’t need us or the Zaps.”

  “All the more reason we need an ambassador,” the captain said. “Or a spy.”

  “Even if I somehow make it to this Zap city, why should they let me in or communicate with me? What do they have to gain?”

  “They’ve created this metal stuff that takes shape and thinks and maybe even acts on its own steam. What if the Zaps have unleashed a Frankenstein’s monster they can no longer control? What if they need our help?”

  “You’re asking her to walk straight into the mouth of hell,” DeVontay said.

  “It’s my decision, DeVontay.” Rachel sauntered over the workbench and studied the map. The radio crackled and the lieutenant worked its dials, seeking a clear signal. A few broken syllables broke through and then trailed away to a soft white noise.

  “You geniuses have probably already thought of this,” DeVontay said. “But what if the Zaps have picked up on all your communications? What if they know about the nukes?”

  “Another reason we need to make contact,” Ziminski said. “They might be planning some kind of counterattack. We assume they prefer to just poison us into extinction, but if they can build these cities, maybe they don’t even care if we bomb the hell out of them.”

  “If that weird metal shit can build itself into anything it wants, maybe it will figure how to turn itself into the biggest bomb of all time and load up with that plasma stuff. They’ve made lasers and drones. So why not come up with a way to just drop the poison right on top of us?”

  Ziminski opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a staccato clatter of gunfire outside.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I should’ve sensed them coming.

  As Rachel scanned the skies from the garage opening, soldiers stationed at various positions along the hills fired at the darting silver shapes. These drones were not like the ones constructed by the Zaps—they had no small red lights for eyes and their wings weren’t folded and stiff. These creatures flapped with fluid movements and swooped like massive eagles. Nine of them spread out in a V formation and descended toward the camp.

  “Metal,” DeVontay said. “Just like in the city.”

  “We’ll cut them to shreds,” the captain said. He drew his sidearm but realized it was useless given the distance and speed of the targets.

  “Bullets don’t hurt them,” DeVontay said.

  “If it’s organic, then it can die,” the captain said.

  “Zaps aren’t controlling these like they did the drone-birds,” Rachel said. “Otherwise, I would detect the telepathic link.”

  “You mean they’re acting on their own?”

  “I didn’t say that. The Zaps aren’t controlling them, but something else might be. Or maybe they’re acting on their own, like you said.”

  The metallic birds glinted under the dull sun, leveling off at an altitude of about fifty feet above them. The birds were twice as large as the drones, made even more menacing by their lack of eyes or facial features. While the Zap creations were cold and deadly, these birds were like the primal screams of a new world, the Next that would reign once humans were exterminated.

  A few rounds found their marks despite the futility of the task, and bits of bright metal chipped from the birds’ bodies and fell into the autumnal trees. The birds seemed to take no notice of the damage, zooming overhead without breaking formation. Rachel imagined she heard their wings buffeting the wind, but that couldn’t be possible. The birds were soon gone from sight and Ziminski ordered his troops to hold their fire.

  He walked to the street outside the garage and picked up a piece of the shiny metal.

  “I don’t think I would touch that, boss,” DeVontay said.

  “It’s dead,” the captain said. “Just like that ball of metal you stuck in your eye socket.”

  When DeVontay had lost his glass prosthetic in the domed city, he’d balled up some of the metal and used it as a replacement. Ziminski confiscated it for analysis but the unit’s engineers—a former high school science teacher and an HVAC technician—could find nothing unusual using their crude equipment.

  “What were they doing?” asked the lieutenant from the safety of the garage interior.

  “Doing some recon of their own,” Ziminski said.

  “They’re sentient,” Rachel said. “Intelligent. But they didn’t feel pain.”

  “They didn’t attack, either,” DeVontay said. �
�Why didn’t they test our strength?”

  Ziminski nodded toward the garage and the map. “Maybe they’re stacking up their own dots. Figuring out where every group of humans is before they make their move.”

  “But we don’t know who ‘they’ is,” Rachel said. “We thought it was Zaps, but what if the Zaps are concocting something even more devious than themselves? They were playing with alchemy, drawing electromagnetic radiation from the sky and refining this metal. Building a better monster.”

  “You’re talking about something that don’t belong in this world,” DeVontay said.

  “I don’t belong in this world, either,” Rachel said. “But here I am.”

  DeVontay grinned at her. “And I’m damned glad of that.”

  “Something else I noticed,” Rachel said. “They weren’t articulated and defined. No eyes, no legs, nothing that looked like feathers.”

  “What does that mean?” Zminiski asked.

  “Like we told you,” DeVontay said. “In the city, these organic robot things didn’t always function. But sometimes they were exact duplicates, like the Rachel robot the Zap babies built with their minds.”

  “That suggests these birds came from far away, because the Zap telepathy and psychokinesis have both a limited range and a limited breadth,” Rachel said. “If a Zap overextends by doing too many things at once, its influence weakens. So the birds could’ve been guided here but then lost the guidance-system signal, for want of a better way of putting it.”

  “So they were flying blind,” Ziminski said. “That might explain why they didn’t attack.”

  “Or if they’re autonomous, they might just keep flying until they come within range of another Zap city.”

  “What if these cities killed all the Zaps inside them and are running the show now?” DeVontay asked.

  “One thing we know for sure, Zaps don’t worship a merciful god,” Rachel said. “The only god they believe in is themselves.”

  A few soldiers emerged from the trees and headed toward the captain. “Any injuries?” he asked.

  “Just a bunch of wasted ammo,” one of them replied.

  “Run a sweep and make sure everybody’s accounted for,” Ziminski commanded. “Maintain sentries on the ridges. No telling what else the Zaps have cooked up. And keep an eye out for the man who attacked Miss Wheeler here.”

  The soldiers gave informal salutes and jogged back into the trees. The soldier who’d been sitting in the Mustang called from inside the garage: “Somebody’s on the radio!”

  Rachel followed the others, taking a last look overhead before she entered the headquarters. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the birds had come looking for her.

  The lieutenant sat before the crackling radio, with Ziminski standing beside her. A garble of static came from the radio’s speaker, followed by a coherent string of words:

  “This is Hotel Quebec, calling…phhht zzzt…”

  “Damn, it’s General Alexander,” Ziminski said as the signal trailed away again.

  The captain had confided to Rachel and DeVontay about the general’s coup and Zminiski’s escape with President Murray. With Murray’s death, there was no real central government ruling the remnants of the United States. Ziminski was the only remaining person who knew the authentication code to abort the nuclear launch. But he’d been unable to maintain radio contact with NORAD even if he decided to abort.

  “…do you read, over?”

  Ziminski picked up the handheld microphone and triggered it. “This is Foxtrot One, over.”

  “Ziminski? Is POTUS there, over?”

  Ziminski stared at the dusty red Mustang, a relic of a different age. He waited until the general repeated the question and keyed the mic. “You’re breaking protocol, Hotel Quebec. Is the channel secure, over?”

  “Put the POTUS on. That’s an order, over.”

  “Negative, Hotel Quebec. She’s unavailable.”

  “SITREP on Operation Free Bird, over?”

  DeVontay took Rachel’s hand, grimacing at her. He wanted to leave. She could read it in his face. He didn’t think they were safe here—not after last night’s attack, not after the sudden appearance of the metal birds, and not with Ziminski planning to send her out as a sacrificial lamb.

  But as long as she identified as a human, she would stay among humans. There would be no escaping from this war. Even if they made it back to their bunker, what kind of world would be left?

  “Operation Free Bird is a go,” Ziminski broadcast. “I repeat, Operation Free Bird is a go.”

  “I need that abort code, over.”

  “I’ll inform POTUS ASAP, cover.”

  “Ziminski? Why the hell did you betray me?”

  “I don’t like dictators or assholes. If you want me, come and get me, General. Over and out.” Ziminski tossed the mike onto the table beside the radio and walked out of the garage.

  DeVontay pulled Rachel just outside the door where the other soldiers couldn’t hear them. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll go back to the house, gather some supplies, and head west.”

  “We already did that,” Rachel said. “I’m tired of running. I want to end this, one way or another.”

  He frowned at her, his lone eye wide and moist. His empty socket featured dark folds of flesh that would’ve looked sinister if not for his otherwise gentle demeanor. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  She embraced him and whispered in his ear. “I know that. But if we have a chance to save the human race, we have to take it.”

  “Damn it, it’s not your job.”

  “I am what I am for a reason. Not to get all mystical, but the Zaps chose me. The universe chose me. Maybe even God chose me. But I’m not a Zap. I’m not just another lost soul looking for redemption. I’m caught in between. And if I want to really claim my humanity, that means I have to use whatever I have to help.”

  “Christ, honey. I wish I could get mad, but that’s why I love you. Through all the changes, you stay one-hundred-percent Rachel no matter what.”

  “You only say that because you knew me back when I was normal.”

  “Girl, you ain’t never been normal. You was wrong from jump.”

  Rachel relaxed in his arms, grateful she’d discovered love in this troubled world. “And I plan to be wrong all the way to the grave.”

  “I’m a fool for saying this, but I’m with you all the way.”

  They kissed and an unnatural energy flowed through Rachel. Despite the strange effects of her mutation, this power had no science behind it. The only word she could use to describe it was magic.

  Ziminski cleared his throat and interrupted them. “Excuse me, lovebirds. But we have three days until the end of the world. I need an answer.”

  Rachel reluctantly parted from DeVontay but wrapped her hand in his. “I’ll do it. I only have two requests.”

  “I’m your commanding officer and under Earth Zero Directive Seventeen, I—” He faltered under her sparking gaze and looked away, sheepish. “I mean, yeah. Sure thing.”

  “DeVontay comes with me. I also need a driver and your best set of wheels. A helicopter drop is too risky—whoever runs the city will detect it from miles away. With a vehicle, we can probably get close enough to sneak in.”

  “You make it sound like a cakewalk,” DeVontay said.

  “Sounds good,” Ziminski said. “And since you have so many enemies, I’ll send my most trusted soldier and our last field radio. We’ve got one of those old hand-cracked jobs that allows you to charge up for a few minutes at a time.”

  “No worries,” DeVontay said. “Maybe she can just ESP a report straight into your head.”

  “I’m not sure I’d like that,” Ziminski said.

  “You get used to it,” Rachel said. “Who knows, maybe if we turned all the Zaps and all the humans into half-and-half mutts like me, we’d all find a way to get along.”

  “Peace, love, and understanding,” Ziminski said. “Sounds better than hugging with nu
clear arms.”

  “If we make it through this, maybe you can put that on a bumper sticker.”

  “Pack your stuff. You’re leaving at noon.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “We’re doing pretty well on our own,” Franklin Wheeler said, studying the misty forest from the second-story window of the farmhouse.

  “But gunfire means people,” K.C. Carr said. The auburn-haired woman with the gray streaks was a good five inches shorter than Franklin, but when she held a strong opinion, she always seemed to be at eye level. “They can’t be more than two miles away.”

  “Then we need to move two miles in the other direction.”

  After escaping from the domed city and watching it detonate, Franklin accepted that the fight was over. The air was toxic, flecked with black ashes and sour dust that even last night’s rain couldn’t erase. With Rachel and DeVontay probably dead, he had little reason for optimism. Reconnecting with K.C., an old flame from a former life in a patriot militia, had been one of the few joys of the last five years. The rest of it was pain, loss, and philosophical ruin.

  “We can’t just wait for the end,” K.C. said.

  “I don’t think we have much longer to wait.”

  “So you’re just going to sit here and surrender? What happened to the ass-kicking freedom fighter I once knew?”

  “I got old, honey. I got so fucking old.”

  K.C’s green eyes brightened in anger. “And what about Squeak? Are you quitting on her, too? What do I tell her?”

  The eight-year-old girl who’d escaped the Zap city with them was downstairs playing with some dolls Franklin had scavenged on a scouting run. Traumatized by the solar storms and their aftermath, including her deranged mother’s overprotection, Squeak had only recently begun to talk well enough to carry on a conversation. Franklin couldn’t imagine dragging her into another conflict at this stage of her recovery.

  “We stick with our plan,” Franklin said. “This place is decent, but we head back to your house in Stonewall for the winter. We’ll be safe there. Survive until spring and figure out the next move.”