Category: Monday Fiction

Nealson Rehabilitation Clinic, 30 August 2011, 1000 hours local; Countdown: 4 months, 1 day

Steve Mountain opened and closed his left hand. He felt all of the little electric motors working as they translated the signals from his brain to the artificial muscles and nerves in his new hand. The docs told him it was all phantom feeling. The actual nanotech and pizeo-electronics were far too small for the nerves in his wrist to detect. As a medic, Steve could intellectually understand it, but he still felt it every time he opened and closed his hand.

"Still feel weird?" Quentin McLintock asked as he walked into Steve’s room. Quentin had been a guest of this same facility when he’d lost part of his right leg. In fact, a lot of the same hardware used in Quentin’s prosthetic was used for Steve’s new hand. Quentin went with Steve to help his teammate adjust to the advanced prosthetic. Steve smiled as Quentin sat down. The gentle giant was more of a help during the real rough times than Steve really wanted to admit.

"The Steve wonders how something can feel so sharp and so alien at the same time," Steve said.

"Yeah. I imagine it’s stronger in a hand than it was in my leg. Sometimes when I’m standing on a rocky path, I know exactly how many stones are under my right foot," Quentin said. For how amazing the technology was at the Nealson clinic, there were still limitations to the human sensations the prosthetics could replicate. Touch was the worst. Steve’s hand could tell him the temperature of what he was holding within a thousandth of a degree, give him some sensation of pain if the temperature exceeded what the hand should hold, but Steve would never be able to feel hot or cold like every other person took for granted. The best analogy was to imagine that your eyes were replaced with HD television screens. Utterly precise in their rendering, but not quite the human sense the body was accustomed to using.

"So how did this morning go?" Quentin asked cautiously.

"The Steve did pretty decent. Even assisted in some minor surgery," Steve answered. "Doc Jewel was mighty impressed with The Steve’s medical ability." Quentin chuckled.

"Not surprising considering how much experience you’ve had patching us up," Quentin said, "Not counting your chemistry skills." Steve just shrugged his shoulders. He’d never admit to Quentin, but the happy juice cocktail had been more of an accident than something he’d meant to brew. One of the nice things about Zombie Strike being based outside of the US. Steve didn’t have to deal with the busybodies from the FDA.

"On a more serious note, we need to get back to Skull Island," Quentin said.

"The Steve figured as much. Docs don’t like it, but we’re flying out tomorrow."

Skull Island, 30 August 2011, 0800 hours local; Countdown: 4 months, 1 day

Mateo Cortez stared at the report on his screen. It was starting to blur. He rubbed his eyes and reached for coffee cup. Empty. As he looked at the Styrofoam cup, he felt the last of his adrenaline burst fall away. He was tired. Maybe he should get some sleep. When was the last time? He looked over at the clock. Oh that explained it. He’d been up for about thirty-six hours.

"Why am I not surprised you’re here?" a frustrated female voice said at the door of the conference room. Mateo turned to see Robyn standing in the doorway. Her face was a mixture of relief and anger. Mateo felt a flash of guilt. He promised Robyn he would go to bed around midnight last night, but there was so much to do. Between zombie outbreaks and fighting Truth attacks in the few friendly countries, Zombie Strike was being run ragged. Then there was Mateo’s special project.

"Robyn, I’m sorry. I lost track of time," Mateo apologized. The anger on Robyn’s face lessened, but it didn’t vanish.

"You’ve been saying that a lot," she replied coldly. Robyn stopped and took a deep breath. She walked into the conference room. She still needed to use crutches or a pair of canes, but she was able to walk. That was only because of intense surgery and physical therapy combined with her own iron determination. As much as it hurt Mateo to watch her struggle to make it to one of the chairs, he was also incredibly proud of this woman. It surprised him when she more or less forced herself into his life, but now he didn’t want to think about life without her.

"I know, and I am sorry. You’ve been dealing with a lot, and I haven’t been there," Mateo said. Robyn gave him a surprised look.

"Did you ask what Jess to say to calm me down?" Robyn asked, half-joking. Mateo’s face reddened. "My God, you did?"

"Sort of," Mateo said, "The feelings are mine, but she did help me with sorting them out and putting words to them. One of the things that doomed my marriage with Maria is I never knew how to talk to her. What she needed to hear from me. And I never took the time to find out. Call it machismo, pride, or whatever. I don’t want to make that same mistake again."

"Words are all good, but actions speak more," Robyn said, "I know what we’re facing, but as much as the world needs Zombie Strike, I need you." Mateo leaned back in his chair. This wasn’t how he wanted to do this.

"You’re right," Mateo said. He leaned in and took Robyn’s hands in his. Fear gripped him as he looked into Robyn’s eyes. He mentally slapped himself. He’d faced off against all sorts of horror. This shouldn’t be this terrifying.

"Robyn, will you marry me?" he asked softly. Robyn’s eyes filled with sudden tears.

"No," she answered just as softly.

St. Louis, Missouri, 1 Sept 2011, 1930 hours local; Countdown: 4 months

She’d been called many things in this world. Demon, the Little Death, vampire were all names she’d heard since her master sent her to this horrific world. She hated this world. Nothing made sense. The very laws of this world were so different than those of her home. The master sent her because she could adapt to new worlds and their rules quickly. She was a scout. That was what the master created her to do for her people. It didn’t make this world’s rules any saner.

She looked around at the deserted buildings as she clung to the wall of one of the skyscrapers. The zombie hordes staggering on the streets below never noticed her presence. She hated the horrible things. Dead things should stay dead, not as mockeries of what they once were. Her master would correct that as soon as he and the people came into this world.

"I should be grateful to those horrid things," she said to herself, practicing the crude communication of this world. "They keep those meddlesome humans away from this place." The trip to this place was not something she ever wanted to do again. Only being able to travel at night was bad enough. Having to drink the humans’ blood rather than just ripping out their life energies was revolting. She shook in remembered disgust as she climbed from her perch to the top of the building.

The two humans cringed as she returned to her nest. They were dressed similar to those humans she fought when she came into this world. The weapons were the same. Yet, these weren’t knights for one of the deities that nominally claimed this world. They served this odd human notion of a nation. America. What a silly name. She grabbed the skinny one. She needed to contact the master. The human screamed as she carved the symbols into him. Its screams stopped as she opened the portal.

"I have found the place, master," she said as her mind blissfully met the master’s. He looked into her mind and drew out everything she had seen in this world.

"Not where I expected," came the reply. The master’s words filled her mind like pure ecstasy. How she hated being separated from him. "You have done well my child. We will soon join you. Your sacrifice will be rewarded." The portal closed, and the dark coldness of this world enveloped her.

"I will be rewarded," she repeated to herself. Her thoughts drifted back to the human with the bauble. The one that nearly killed her. She knew what she wanted for her reward. She wanted to take that human apart and savor its pain as she fed from him. The thought of food made her realize she was suddenly ravenous. Well, that’s why she snatched two of the humans.

Zombie Strike Part 10 Chapter 97

Truth Compound, South Africa, 8 July 2011, 2045 hours local; Countdown: 5 months, 23 days

Steve Mountain barely brought up his carbine before Giant’s whip lashed down him. The mystical leather cord sliced through the weapon and the front of his armor like an industrial laser. Steve let the halves of his weapon clatter to the ground as he slid back from the enraged Champion of the Truth. Giant brought the whip back up. Well, Steve wondered how he was going to buy it. A rescue mission was as good as anything else. Jim’s big lever action boomed and Giant was snapped back by the big .500 S&W bullet. The whip missed cutting Steve down the middle. Instead, it took off all the fingers on his left hand.

Steve screamed in pain. The unnatural sound echoed through the room. His old trained reactions took over. Steve triggered the pain meds to dump into his system. He didn’t have a whole lot of time. Suddenly, Jess was helping him take off his gauntlet and glove. Just as he’d shown her time and time again, Jess applied the tourniquet. As Steve looked up, he saw a mountain of white fur between him and Giant. Billy was doing his super-size thing again. Jess grunted as she grabbed his armor’s drag handle and pulled him back from Giant’s whip. Kenn and Jim were pouring fire into their nemesis. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would drive him back. Kenn’s KRISS sounded strange next to the clackety-clack-boom of Jim’s lever action. As those two ran dry, Chief Stahl and Quentin started their turn. It was hard for Steve to concentrate on the action. The pain was barely eased by the drugs running through his system. In the haze of pain, Steve wondered if anyone bothered to pick up his fingers. Maybe if they got them on ice quickly, the docs could sew them back on.

"Boss wants you Jess. I’m to watch him," Sport said, dropping next to Steve. The Brit slung his grenade launcher and was now cradling his scattergun.

"I can’t leave him like this. What if he crashes? Kenn’s going to have to just fight this one without me," Jess replied keeping her eyes on the readout from Steve’s PDA.

"Not Kenn," Sport replied before firing a heavy slug at Giant. He got a bellow of pain for his effort. Jess cursed under her breath. She turned Steve’s head so he could look at her face.

"Steve, I think you’re as stable as we’re going to get here," Jess told him. Steve nodded, gritting back the effort it took for that much movement. He’d gone a little too heavy on the drugs. Okay, so he wasn’t as immune to panic as he imagined. "I’ve to go see what Mateo wants." The whip cracked again. There was another scream of pain. Jess’s face paled as she looked up.

"Too bad for the Frenchie," was all Sport said. Jess sprinted to the back of the room. Surprisingly, Billy stayed where he was between Steve and Giant. Steve could feel his own body rumble as the spirit-wolf pup growled.

"Just accept your fate," Giant said his voice full of vengeance. "You can’t kill me. All you can do is delay the inevitable. Once you have used up all of your little bullets, I will kill all of you slowly and painfully."

"Oh don’t worry Giant," Chief Stahl said, "We brought lots of ammo." As if to demonstrate, the chief fired a long burst into Giant. "We can keep this up a long time."

"I will punish you Undecided, and your team will be destroyed!" Giant shouted in frustration. "You will not leave here alive!"

"MIKHAIL!" a new voice shouted. Everything went quiet as all Giant and Zombie Strike recognized the voice of Mateo Cortez. The Zombie Strike field leader waited as tension built. Steve watched as Mateo walked up behind his shooters.

"Mateo, you are needed alive, but not necessarily whole," Giant threatened, his voice dripping with menace. "Take your woman and put yourself in the hands of my Champions. If you don’t, I’ll kill your team – and your woman. While you watch." Steve watched his friend and leader. The man didn’t as much as twitch.

"Mikhail, as much as it annoys me to do this, I will give you one chance to take Castle and leave," Mateo said. Giant erupted into an uncontrollable spasm of laughter. Mateo just stood there calmly as the big man brought himself back under control.

"Don’t you understand Mateo? You’ve lost. Your precious team has lost. You are in the Truth’s control, and you will fulfill your role as the prophecies have foretold. Why are you fighting so hard against your destiny?" Giant asked.

"God gave me free will to do as I choose. I don’t believe in destiny. I do believe in the ability of my sharpshooters," Mateo said. Giant stood straight, confused by Mateo’s statement. "Right now, one is aiming at your precious Castle’s head." Mateo motioned to the unconscious form of the Truth’s supreme leader and high priest.

"The other is aiming at me," Mateo said, delivering the line as if he were ordering a meal, "If you don’t cooperate, they’ll both fire. You can shield me or Castle. Not both. Lose your high priest or me. Maybe both."

"You just told me you don’t believe you have a destiny," Giant temporized as he looked between Mateo and the limp form of Castle.

"Yeah, but you do. You believe that through every fiber of your body," Mateo answered. "You know I’ll do it, too." Long, tense seconds ticked by as Giant and Mateo stared at each other. No one dared move.

"So how do we do this?" Giant finally asked. Mateo’s face broke into a predatory grin.

"First, you’ll send out the Gazelle Two-Seven order," Mateo said. Giant’s eyes went wide in surprise. Mateo’s smile widened. "Oh yeah, I know all about your little codes. We’ll wait for five minutes after you give it, and then you can pick up Castle and walk right on out of here. Though, before you think you can just rally your folks outside and ambush us, just remember. I still have moles on the inside of your little organization. We’re worse than the old KGB that way. They all have orders to kill Castle if you try to betray me, and they had full access to everything you were keeping in this little resort."

"You’re lying! I don’t believe you," snarled Giant.

"Yes you do," Mateo answered, "Or more to the point, you can’t take the chance I’m telling the truth. Now, give the order." Giant raised his wrist.

"This is Mikhail. Gazelle Two-Seven. Gazelle Two-Seven." The team could hear the pounding of foot falls as the Truth evacuated their compound. Mateo looked down at his watch. The rest of the team kept their guard. No sense for some idiot Truther to come barging in and getting everyone killed. As much as he hated to admit it, Steve was kind of glad for the tension as the five minutes slowly ticked by. At least it gave him something other than his hand to focus on.

"Five minutes," Mateo said calmly, looking up from his watch. Giant carefully lifted Castle’s form and started for the door.

"One more thing Mikhail," Mateo said just before Giant opened the door.

"What?" he asked, spinning back towards his hated enemy.

"Stay off my island."

Zombie Strike Part 9 Chapter 96 – Epilogue

Truth Compound, South Africa, 8 July 2011, 2020 hours local; Countdown: 5 months, 23 days

Steve Mountain ducked into a doorway as the minion shot a bolt of green electricity at him. The luxurious carpet where he’d been standing melted and then ignited. It died quickly in the rain of the compound’s sprinkler system. Steve leaned out of the doorway and fired a burst from his liberated F2000. The minion laughed as the bullets smacked harmlessly on his energy shield. Then, Amanda came out of the room and unleashed a beam from Darius’s Rod. As the two energies met, a deafening roar filled the hallway. Amanda grunted in pain and fell behind Steve. The minion was thrown to the floor. As the Truth’s mystical warrior struggled to get back to his feet, Steve fired another burst. Without his magical shield, the bullets effortlessly tore the minion’s chest apart.

"You okay?" Steve asked Amanda as he changed magazines in his bullpup assault rifle.

"No, but I’ll survive," she answered. She looked up at the water raining down on them. "You know, of all the conditions I’d considered about fighting in a building, dealing with being cold and wet from the sprinklers was not one of them."

"Happens. The Steve’s dealt with it before," Steve said casually. He turned back to the stairwell. "Clear!" The rest of Zombie Strike and a couple of Amanda’s fellow agents bounded out of the stairwell.

"Sport, take the Frenchie and Jim and start clearing rooms," Chief Stahl ordered, pointing at one of Amanda’s men. "Quentin, you, Jess, and Billy get ready to back them up if they manage to find anything." Sport gripped his shotgun and moved to the door across from Steve and Amanda. The French M&W agent swiftly kicked the door open, and the three men entered the room with deadly swiftness.

"At least he’s not doing it with that grenade launcher of his," the chief grumbled as he followed Steve, Amanda, and Kenn Blanchard into the room. "Is there anyone who can turn off the water works?"

"Not from here," Amanda answered.

"Well, thankfully, all of our toys are waterproofed," Kenn said, placing a tablet computer on the room’s main table. The compound’s schematics glowed on the display.

"Okay, we’re here," Kenn said, tapping the room on the fifth floor, "Matt and Robyn are probably here along with Castle and Giant." A room on the fourth floor lit up. "My main concern with this plan is danger to our people. We don’t know where in the room Matt and Robyn could be."

"Not a good way to get intel, but we know Castle and Giant aren’t going to want anything to happen to Matt. They’ll have him good and protected."

"And Robyn?" Kenn asked.

"She’s there as insurance," Stahl said, "So they’ll keep her safe to keep Mateo from doing something stupid. That said, their primary objective is keeping Mateo alive so he can fulfill whatever role he has in their prophecies." The former warrant officer almost spat out the last word.

"Well, gentlemen, let’s not waste time," Amanda said.

"As soon as we’ve got the floor secure, you’ll get to do your thing," Stahl said. Quiet minutes passed as they waited for Sport and his small team to clear the rooms. Steve hated times like these. Boring, exciting, and anxious all at once. He kept his normal cheerful smile plastered on his face as he walked around the room. Maybe he should sing something. That would certainly break up the growing tension.

"Good to go," Sport said in his cockeyed Brit accent. Zombie Strike and the M&W agents walked out into the hallway to get to the target room. They’d walked maybe a dozen yards before Billy growled. Steve turned to where the spirit wolf was pointing. He barely saw the small canister as it sailed out of the stairwell.

"GRENADE!" he shouted as the device bounced on the carpet. Instinctively, the Zombie Strike operatives dove into the nearest doorway. Steve grabbed Amanda and half-threw the woman into the room to their right. The explosion shook the building. Steve heard whistling fragments of metal thud into the wood around them. Someone screamed in pain. Then gunfire filled the hallway. Steve brought the stubby assault rifle up around the corner. These weren’t the guards they’d fought before. These guys knew how to use cover and fire discipline. Steve fired two bursts at one of the new shooters. He ducked back as another returned fire. Well, that was a bit too close.

"Eric, tell your people to put down their weapons," yelled out one of the shooters, "I have no desire to kill all of you." The voice sounded familiar.

"Not going to happen Evan," Chief Stahl yelled back, "Your people get in our way, and they’re going to see their god pretty fast." Steve’s mind locked on the name. Evan was the leader of those Truth soldiers back in Panama. That explained a lot. Those guys were scary good. No magic, but easily as well trained in weapons and tactics as Zombie Strike. Both sides traded gunfire.

"Just so you know, I’m not going to like killing you and your team," Evan shouted.

"Same here," Chief Stahl answered. The chief switched to the team’s radio net, "Sport, use your frags. As soon as those go off, everyone get to the target room." Steve cursed under his breath as the Brit giggled. He actually giggled. Steve pushed Amanda into the room’s bathtub and covered her with his body. She protested until the explosions started.

"Frag out!" Sport said calmly over the radio. The grenade the Truth’s soldiers threw shook the hallway. Sport’s five grenades shook the entire building. Amanda screamed in terror and pain as the concussive shock waves tore through them. Steve felt as his PDA dumped happy juice into his bloodstream. He checked his med readout. Pretty much the entire team was suffering from some injuries from Sport’s inferno-in-a-can grenades. Nothing serious, or at least nothing that a little happy juice wouldn’t take care of.

Steve dragged Amanda out into the hallway. Anything above waist-high was pulverized, either by the massive blasts or the jagged fragments. Steve saw the remains of three Truth soldiers. Amanda gagged at the sight of humans torn apart by high-explosive. Steve just pulled her along. They didn’t have much time before the Truth’s soldiers recovered from what Sport just unleashed on them. An eternity seemed to pass as the two of them dashed down the hall and through the door of the room. Jess and Jim were standing in the doorway with their rifles, waiting patiently for the Truth’s soldiers to poke their heads out. Quentin, Stahl, and Sport were tossing furniture out of the way.

"Hey, the sprinklers stopped," Steve said, noticing the lack of the constant rain for the first time. The others paused just for a moment to look at him. Just enough so they concentrated on him and not their pain. The Steve did his job. Knives came out and tore up the water-logged carpet and padding to reveal the floor boards. The chief pulled out a long gray cord. The former soldier made a circle maybe four feet wide on the floor with the shaped charge. He attached a small detonator and motioned for everyone to get back. The explosion seemed almost quiet after Sport’s grenades. As the smoke and dust cleared, Amanda stepped up to the newly cut hole.

"We were correct," Amanda said, pulling out Darius’s Rod. Castle’s room was protected by some heavy duty magic. Fortunately, they had some heavy duty magic on their side for once. Amanda chanted in Greek. Darius’s Rod glowed, softly at first and then intensified until no one could look at the M&W agent. With a shout of Greek, the room was bathed in brilliant yellow light.

"Go!" Amanda shouted, jumping into the hole. Steve jumped right behind her, followed by Kenn, Chief Stahl, and Quentin. Surprisingly, Billy also followed the advance team. The six of them landed in a lavishly appointed living room. Steve spotted Mateo and Robyn crouching behind an overturned desk behind the team. In front of them stood a very angry Giant.

"I don’t know what you did traitor, but you won’t survive this betrayal," Giant growled. Kenn and Chief Stahl didn’t waste time bantering. The two men brought up their weapons and poured automatic fire into their nemesis. Giant screamed as the bullets slammed into his torso. Steve and Billy fell back to Mateo and Rachel. Before they could reach their field commander, Giant bellowed and a wave of energy knocked all of them off their feet.

Steve rolled over to face their enemy. Giant snapped his whip and the inch-thick cord went rigid. Steve had seen Giant do this with the whip before. He twisted his F2000 around and fired the entire magazine at Giant. The Truth’s head Champion snarled in pain, but ignored the thirty 5.56 mm bullets as they slammed into his legs and torso. Giant was focused on Amanda. The M&W agent was still struggling to get up from the concussive blast. She didn’t have Zombie Strike’s armor or Steve’s happy juice to clear her mind. She shakily got to her feet just as Giant struck. She never knew what hit her. Steve watched as the rigid leather lanced through her head. Her body went instantly slack. Giant flicked his wrist and Amanda’s body was thrown to the side.

"Now Zombie Strike, you will pay for hurting my master."

Zombie Strike Part 9 Chapter 95

Truth Compound, South Africa, 8 July 2011, 2000 hours local; Countdown: 5 months, 23 days

Steve Mountain raised the silenced pistol as he crept towards the minion. She was tall for a chick. Shame. Steve dug the tall ones. He took another careful step closer. He needed to be close to make sure the minion didn’t have a shield up. Most didn’t keep their shields up all the time, but every so often you ran into one that was overly cautious. The three green dots of the pistol’s sights lined up perfectly with the minion’s head.

"Would you please put that pistol away?" the minion said, turning to face Steve. The mask to her balaclava was down. Steve swallowed hard as he saw the familiar face. Waves of memories and embarrassment flowed through him.

"Oh hey, Amanda, what’re you doing here? The Steve thought you were back in Tampa," Steve said. Her huge black eyes flashed with remembered anger. Steve lowered his pistol, but didn’t lose his firing grip.

"Great. You’re the one in control?" Amanda asked, rhetorically, "What happened to your soldier side? Everything else was definitely him." Steve wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer. His normal impulse was to say something comical. He knew better than to try that with Amanda. The lithe woman stepped up to Steve and grabbed him by the front of his armor.

"Let me be clear on this Mountain, I do not like that I am blowing an entire intel network I’ve spent the better part of the last two years building because your friends managed to get themselves caught by the Truth. I’ve already lost several good agents. This better be worth it."

"Well that explains what you’ve been doing since the last time The Steve saw you," Steve said. Amanda let out a frustrated growl.

"Follow me," Amanda said, "We need to get the rest of your team and my agents out of secure holding before we can go get your team leader. Castle’s holding him and his girlfriend upstairs. We’ll need the manpower to defeat him." She started walking down the corridor. Steve holstered his hush-puppy and trotted to catch up.

"The Steve wants to know a couple of things. Who’s Castle and where’s Giant?"

"Castle is the leader of the Truth. The head priest of Xipe Totec on Earth. Mikhail’s probably with him. We’re going to need everyone we can get to deal with the two of them." Amanda opened an access door in the hallway and strode through impatiently. Two men in waiter’s uniforms were waiting. They straightened up as Amanda walked into the room, but she waved them down. They both looked suspiciously at Steve.

"Have you cleared the way?" Amanda demanded.

"Almost," one of the men said with a pronounced French accent, "Gabriel secured the weapons for Zombie Strike. There was a small problem though at the entrance of the holding cells. Dalton is guarding it." Amanda cursed ferociously. She spun to face Steve.

"You don’t happen to have something in your bag of toys to deal with a high-level Champion?" she asked, using the formal name for the minions.

"The Steve picked this up," he answered, holding out the short gilded scepter. Amanda’s eyes went wide.

"Is that Darius’s Rod? How did you get it from Walter? Give it to me," she said, reaching out to snatch the artifact. Steve whipped it out of reach.

"Finders-keepers," he shot back.

"Do you know how to speak Greek?" Amanda asked.

"Do you?"

"I grew up in Tarpon Springs," Amanda answered. Steve had forgotten that Amanda was raised in the heavily-Greek town on Florida’s Gulf Coast. Oh yeah, she ordered in Greek that one time after they went to that movie. Reluctantly, Steve handed over the artifact. With the artifact in hand, Amanda turned to the two men.

"Go wait with Gabriel. Be ready when we bring the prisoners to you," Amanda ordered. The two men nodded and dashed out the door. Wordlessly, Amanda motioned for Steve to follow her. She led him through the darkened underground maze for nearly fifteen minutes in complete silence. She stopped suddenly before a corner.

"Dalton’s good, and he was given one of the stronger artifacts. One of Xipe Totec’s actual artifacts," Amanda said, "I’ll deal with him. You just get through the door. There should be a few acolytes inside. Once you deal with them, you should be able to spring your friends." There was a tiny hint of fear in her voice. Anyone else would have just chalked it up to anxiety, but Steve knew Amanda too well. She wasn’t sure if she could deal with this Dalton and survive. Nothing else could break her composure.

Amanda pulled out Darius’s Rod and whispered a string of Greek. The golden rod glowed warmly. She looked back at Steve and nodded. She turned the corner bringing up the artifact. Steve sprinted around her before Amanda launched her mystical attack. The air in the corridor shimmered as a wave of sound tore down at the hulking minion standing in front of the door. Dalton was maybe a smidge under Quentin’s size and he moved faster. He punched at the incoming wave of energy. The corridor boomed as Amanda’s attack was shattered. Steve was thrown against the wall and sank to the floor. Dalton took a step and punched at the air. A whip of sparkling blue power shot out from his fist and snapped across Amanda’s hastily erected shield. Amanda was thrown back and nearly lost her grip on Darius’s Rod. Dalton shot another energy whip from his other hand and lashed at Amanda again. She shrieked in agony as it lanced through her shield and wrapped around her arm.

"Hey Dalton," Steve called out. The minion swiveled his head around just in time for Steve’s baton to smack him in the jaw. Dalton growled as he staggered back from the blow. Steve came in low before the big minion could recover. Five rounds of forty-five tore through Dalton’s side. The minion’s eyes went wide in shock and pain before he collapsed. Steve didn’t wait for Amanda to recover enough to scream at him for deviating from the plan. He charged into the secured room. The three acolytes inside went down with three quick bursts. Steve found the controls and unlocked his friends and teammates from their holding cells. Amanda stormed into the room as the team congregated in the main room.

"Guys, The Steve presents Amanda Kasev, investigator and spy for M&W," Steve said before there was a nasty confusion about the sudden appearance of a very upset minion. The team collectively relaxed. Amanda shot Steve a poisonous glance and turned to Kenn Blanchard.

"Sir, my agents have your equipment. If you’ll follow me, we’ll get you armed and armored up, and then we can get Mr. Cortez and Ms. Adams out. They are being held upstairs by the leader of the Truth."

"Good, then we can kill the bugger heading this up and be done with the Truth," Sport said.

"You can’t do that," Amanda said. "Castle must not be killed." The Zombie Strike members went deadly quiet.

"Listen missy, I don’t know who you’re hoping to deliver this guy to, but I’m not about—" Chief Stahl started before Amanda cut him off.

"You don’t understand. If you kill him now, all life on this world will be wiped out."

Zombie Strike Part 9 Chapter 94

Truth Compound, South Africa, 8 July 2011, 1900 hours local; Countdown: 5 months, 23 days

Former Staff Sergeant Steve Mountain slid through the tall grass. He’d spent the last twelve hours playing hide and seek with the Truth’s security forces. After Sgt. Mountain made the sixth guard disappear, the Truth’s people fell back and deployed zombie hordes with minions riding herd. They made the mistake of giving him a few hours to rest, recon, and gather up a bunch of supplies from Zombie Strike’s camp site. Now it was time for Mountain to show those Truth idiots how badly they screwed up.

Mountain froze as the first few zombies staggered past him. His armor was smeared with Nasty Stuff. The mindless undead didn’t even get a whiff of him as they shambled by where he hid. The real concern was the minion controlling the fifty-head horde. Mountain slowly brought up the "hush-puppy," a heavily modified .45 designed to be almost completely silent. The minion wasn’t even paying attention. He was just directing the horde with a small artifact. Mountain waited patiently as they passed and then continued to slip further into the Truth compound.

The tall grass ended a good two hundred meters from the edge of the compound. According to what M&W’s investigators dug up on this place, it had started out as a luxury resort away from the hustle and bustle of the big cities, like Johannesburg and Cape Town. The original owners overextended themselves and been caught flatfooted when everything tanked back in ’08. One of the Truth’s front companies snatched up the property. This was one of their long-time secure places, and they were just a bit too complacent about its security. The folks guarding this place were nowhere near as good as the mercs Zombie Strike dealt with back in Panama.

Mountain tapped his PDA. Five explosions rocked the far side of the compound. As the Truth’s security people scrambled to deal with the diversion, Mountain sprinted out of the grass. They were all looking the wrong way. He grinned at their mistake. Definitely not the varsity team. The fence surrounding the perimeter would probably look imposing to these amateurs. Eight foot electrical topped with concertina wire. Mountain opened a pouch and pulled out a plastic cord. Mountain whipped the cord around one of the tall fence posts. He clicked the switch at the end. The thermite cord burst to life melting the post and wire with its 1,400 degree burn. As the fence collapsed, Mountain dashed into the actual compound. He slid behind a parked truck as a pair of guards emerged from the main building with weapons up. These two were amateurs, but they were smart amateurs. They kept to actual cover and made sure they kept their lines of fire open. Mountain popped around the front of the truck. The lead guard’s chest filled the holographic sight. The suppressed M4 burped. The guard went down. His partner returned the burst into the truck. Mountain could hear the guard calmly reporting the contact and requesting back-up. It was almost a shame to kill someone who was trying so hard to be actually effective. Mountain pulled the pin on the grenade and tossed it at the guard.

The guard screamed a curse an instant before dark blue smoke spurted out of the grenade. Distracted and blinded, the guard was cut down as Mountain charged into the building. Two more startled guards went down in the hallway. That was the end of the easy. A minion snapped a mystical shield up and deflected the burst Mountain fired at him. Funny thing about those shields. They were real good about defeating bullets and other high-speed projectiles, but the minions seemed real scared when Zombie Strike poured on the fire or just got a bit too close. Mountain let his M4 drop on its sling and whipped out a collapsible baton. The minion’s eyes went wide as the former special forces soldier slammed the baton against the shield. Purple sparks arched as the metal hit the magical.

"What are you doing? Are you insane?" the minion demanded. His accent was all-American and sounded young. Maybe early twenties. Mountain was leading locals against the Taliban at that age.

"The slow blade penetrates the shield," Mountain answered, striking the shield twice more.

"This isn’t something out of Dune! This is the power of Xipe Totec!" the minion screeched, shaking his artifact.

"And that’s a shaped charge," Mountain replied pointing to the small box on the wall. The minion never saw the former soldier slap it onto the wall. He’d just backed away from the constant baton strikes until the charge was inside his shield. As he realized his mistake, the minion tried to flee. He got a step before the explosive turned him into a cloud of red mist. Mountain shook his head to clear the after effects of the concussive blast. Okay, that worked once, but he only had four more of those small boxes of joy. He slinked down the hallway looking for a staircase. If he had to bet, Mateo, Robyn, and the others would be down in the basement. With rare exception, most people stashed their prisoners in basements or underground levels. Call it an unconscious instinct to throw people in the dungeon. Fortunately, the Truth left up the exit signs from the original construction. Some things were so common that they were often overlooked.

The stairwell was unlit. The snapping of a charging handle was all the warning he needed. He dropped to the concrete landing an instant before a small guard team sprayed automatic fire into the open doorway. Mountain flipped down his nightvision as the guards’ weapons went empty. Four of them with those stubby F2000’s. Mountain fired two quick bursts. One guard went down, another screamed in pain before falling back with the other two. Mountain got to his feet. Speed was life. He tossed down a flash-bang, banking the small device off the concrete wall. The startled screams were drowned out by the device’s roar. Mountain quickly dealt with the three guards.

He reloaded his carbine as he charged down the stairs. The door to the basement slammed open under his kick. A dozen zombies moaned and moved to the noise. Mountain used single rounds to put them down. Then, a bolt of brilliant energy slammed into him. As he cleared the sparkles from his eyes, he realized he was on the hard concrete floor. A minion stood back holding what looked like a bronze scepter. Mountain swore as he realized he was facing off against someone wielding Darius’s Rod. The minion stepped back and pointed the Rod at Mountain. The hallway filled with ear-splitting shrieks. It was like a thousand banshees with heavy-duty amps. His normal hearing protection was worthless against the mystical assault. He pushed his body backwards trying to flee the unbearable noise. The minion cautiously advanced keeping the power of the Rod focused on the Zombie Strike operative.

Surprisingly, Mountain felt The Steve beckoning him to go back to his place in the back of their shared mind. The soldier resisted, until the slightly-manic persona showed him what was going to happen. Reluctantly, the soldier fell back, and The Steve was back in control. The noise hurt, but The Steve just smiled. It couldn’t have been worse than that one performance art thing he let that chick in San Fran drag him to. The Steve slid for about another twenty feet and stopped. The minion didn’t notice the subtle changes as the personas switched, but he was smart enough to still be cautious. If he had only been smart enough to look down. The small shaped charge tore the minion apart.

"No power in the verse can stop The Steve now," he said as he plucked Darius’s Rod from the dismembered hand.

Zombie Strike Part 9 Chapter 93

Truth Compound, South Africa, 8 July 2011, 0700 hours local; Countdown: 5 months, 23 days

Steve Mountain kept still as the guard walked closer. Next to Steve, Jess slowed down her breathing. She kept her suppressed SCAR-H on the guard’s chest as the man walked the perimeter of the Truth’s compound. Something caught this guard’s attention. For a few tense moments, the guard swept their area with his F2000 assault rifle. Not seeing anything, the guard went back to his normal patrol route. Steve motioned for Jess to fall back. That was a bit close. The two Zombie Strike field team members slid back through the tall grass. Hidden in a small wooded area, the rest of Zombie Strike waited.

"Well?" asked Chief Stahl.

"A lot tighter than what he told us," Jess reported. "Bunch of armed guards backed up by minions and hordes of zombies. I don’t see how we’re going to infiltrate that place."

"Assuming Matt and Robyn are even there," murmured Sport. The diminutive Brit was the loudest voice of doubt about the supposed mole Zombie Strike rescued in Cape Town.

"Dude, lose the pessimism," Steve said. "The Steve has a feeling we’re on the right track." The rest of the team gave him a mixture of odd looks. That was fine. It gave them a momentary break from their worries, and that was what The Steve was all about.

"Download the gun camera and we’ll figure out how we’re going to get them out," Chief Stahl said to Jess. The girl nodded and moved over to the computer. Stahl turned to Steve. "Do you think he was lying to us?"

"Nah, dude. Activity looked recent. The soldiers were rushing around. Nothing that looked like a standard pattern," Steve answered. Stahl nodded and walked over to join Jess at the table. Stahl was a good soldier. He had probably been a scary good Ranger. The chief’s big problem was that he still thought soldier. Steve noticed Stahl trusted the former military guys in Zombie Strike more than those who came from the civilian side. That might be a problem in the future. The Steve would keep it in check.

"How’s the little dude?" Steve asked Jim. The cowboy smiled and motioned to one of the team’s spider holes.

"As soon as we got settled in, he curled up and passed out," Jim answered. Steve gave Jim a thumbs-up and moved deeper into the camp. Unlike Sport, Steve was sure the little man was actually a mole for M&W, the insurance firm that funded Zombie Strike’s operations. Steve had seen faked and real torture wounds before. The injuries on the little man, who still hadn’t given them his name, were consistent with actual torture. Sport read too many James Bond stories. Double and triple agents were rare beasts. Most didn’t live very long. Part of being in Special Forces was acting as an intelligence agent. The Steve emerged during some of those long deep-cover runs back stopping CIA field agents. The Steve was just off-kilter enough that he was trustworthy. Just enough chaos to sell himself wherever he needed to go. After a couple of years, The Steve was habit. After nearly a decade, Steve was The Steve. Well, except for the times when Sgt. Mountain came out from the back reaches of his mind. Fortunately, those were rare.

Steve walked to the back of the small campsite. They were somewhere south of the Kalahari in a grassy savannah land. He watched the tall grass sway in the wind. It kind of reminded him when he spent a few months with that Mongolian tribe. That had been pretty cool. He became a decent horseman. Of course, the tribesman thought he was pathetic. Just because they were on a horse before they walked. Still, they granted he wasn’t too terrible for a round-eye. Steve’s eyes locked onto an odd ripple in the grass. He’d seen that before, in Mongolia. When hunters were stalking prey through the grasslands.

"Intruders to the rear!" Steve yelled, bringing up his M4. He placed the holographic sight over the ripple in the grass. Steve squeezed off a short burst into the grass. He was rewarded with a gollum’s screech of pain. A whip cracked and the illusion fell away. Ten gollums were in the grass with Giant in the center. Steve felt Sgt. Mountain pressing to come forward. He pushed back. Not yet. He could deal with Mikhail.

"Dude, no fair. We don’t have invisibility cloaks!" Steve shouted at Giant before firing a long burst into Zombie Strike’s nemesis. The seven-foot man lashed out with his magical whip. Steve tried to block with his carbine, but felt the leather cord wrap around his neck. Giant jerked Steve to him. Steve felt vertebrae pop as he landed at Giant’s feet. At least the monster hadn’t cut off his air.

"Not cool. The Steve wants to know how you got here. The Steve thought you were in Jo-Burg," Steve said, reaching for his Kimber. Giant’s whip dragged Steve up to eye level with Giant. Steve just smiled as he stared into Giant’s dark eyes flashing with anger. Gollum screeches mixed with gunfire as the battle really began.

"How did you know we were there?" Giant demanded.

"It’s a secret," Steve said in sing-song. Giant shook him violently with the whip.

"Tell me!" Giant almost shouted.

"Okay," Steve said, gasping for breath, "New device. Look down." Giant tilted his head down and came face-to-face with the muzzle of Steve’s pistol. The medic fired the Kimber as fast as the pistol could manage. Eight rounds of .45 slammed into Giant’s face. The huge man screamed in pain and flung Steve back into the grass. Stars exploded in front of Steve’s face as he slammed onto the dirt. As he staggered to his feet, he triggered pain meds on his PDA. A little of his world-famous Happy Juice in him and the fight was on.

Zombie Strike was fully into the fight. Quentin was battling one gollum with his warhammer. Kenn poured fire into another as Jim snaked up with his big revolver in one hand and a long, heavy Bowie knife in the other. Chief Stahl and Jess were holding back the rest with precision fire. Where was Sport? Almost as if to answer Steve’s question, the Brit stood up with his XM-25 grenade launcher in his hands. He aimed the weapon at Giant.

"Frag out!" Sport yelled. Steve’s eyes went wide an instant before Sport fired all five grenades at Giant. The first two grenades exploded twenty feet from Giant. The blast threw Steve back to the ground. Happy Juice pumping through his veins, Steve sat up just in time for the three heavy grenades to hit Giant’s hastily erected shield. These grenades were designed for use against shielded opponents. Using tiny fins, the grenades popped up at the last instant and detonated nearly straight down.

Giant screamed in pain as fragments tore through him. Steve smiled. Giant in pain was a good thing. He just wished he hadn’t been that close to all of those explosions. Sport tended to over-pack his grenades. Steve was about to stand up when he noticed the sounds of the fight were suddenly quiet. He peered through the tall grass. Dozens of guards were pointing their stubby F2000s at the Zombie Strike team. Steve cursed to himself. Surprise was always the most deadly advantage. He’d completely forgotten about all of those forces at the compound. As Steve looked over to Giant, the big man was completely consumed with plucking the razor-sharp fragments out of his body. Well, surprise could work both ways. As Zombie Strike handed over their weapons to the Truth’s guards, Steve slid back into the grass. As much as he hated to, Steve let Sgt. Mountain take over. It was time for the Truth to learn exactly how dangerous he could be.

Zombie Strike Part 9 Chapter 92

Truth Compound, South Africa, 7 July 2011, 1900 hours local; Countdown: 5 months, 24 days

Mateo Cortez held Robyn close as she cried quietly. The promised doctors finally arrived that morning. They brought Robyn in shortly after breakfast. The doctors went over her X-rays and whatever other information the Truth gave them, and then inspected the damage themselves. It nearly drove Mateo mad. He forced himself to keep an encouraging smile on his face as the two doctors talked to each other in low German. Then, came the prognosis. They would have to re-break the legs to properly set them. Probably six to eight weeks with the legs immobilized in heavy casts. Months of physical therapy afterwards. Even then, Robyn would probably not regain the full use of her legs. To their credit, the doctors tried to be as kind as possible delivering the news, but to no avail. Robyn’s hopes were just as shattered as her legs. Worse, she knew her inability to move trapped Mateo in the compound better than if the Truth just put them in a jail cell.

Mateo didn’t tell Robyn about the minion who said he was working on breaking them out. Mateo trusted Robyn, but he was sure the room was bugged. He also wasn’t totally sure the minion could be trusted. Robyn knew he was keeping something from her, and took Mateo’s silence to mean that he didn’t trust her or blamed her. No matter what Mateo said, Robyn sank deeper and deeper into a black depression. All Mateo could do was try and comfort her as best as he could. He raged inside.

The door knocked to signal dinner had arrived. Mateo reluctantly laid Robyn down on the bed and walked over to the apartment’s front door. A man in a porter’s uniform pushed a cart into the apartment followed by three men in business suits. Mateo recognized the two large ones as part of the security team that regularly swept the apartment. Mateo hadn’t seen the last one before.

"Where’s Cassandra?" Mateo asked, expecting to see the diminutive woman storm through the door.

"She became suddenly ill," the new man said. Mateo eyes froze as he heard the voice. It was the same voice who told him two days ago to prepare for a breakout. The man turned to the porter pushing the food cart. "That will be all steward. We can take care of it from here." Without another word, the porter walked out of the room. The two thugs started their security sweep.

"What the hell is going on?" Mateo demanded quietly.

"Zombie Strike is in South Africa, but we lost contact with our man in Cape Town before he managed to meet up with them. It could be something mundane, or it could be he was discovered. It’s pushed things up a bit." The man looked around uncomfortably. "As soon as the goon squad goes into the bathroom, I’ll need you to deal with them."

"How exactly am I supposed to do that?" Mateo asked. The man’s eyes fell on the covered dish. Mateo took off the metal cover. An HK45 with suppressor was lying on the white china plate. Mateo snatched the weapon and tucked it into the back of his pants. "What are you going to be doing while I’m taking out the boys?"

"Putting your woman into a deep sleep," the man answered, "It’s the only way we’ll be able to transport her with her injuries." Mateo understood, but he didn’t like it.

Mateo walked back towards where the two thugs were doing their search of the kitchen. They ignored him as he followed them through the apartment. As soon as both stepped into the bathroom, Mateo smoothly drew the German pistol. They didn’t even notice as he put single rounds into their heads. Mateo was startled by the lack of noise. Normally, suppressors just cut the sound of the gunshot down to a manageable roar. The sound of the slide cycling was louder than the gunshots on this pistol. Mateo quickly frisked the two dead men and came away with a pair of unfamiliar pistols and extra magazines. He wrapped all the weapons in a bath towel. As Mateo came back into the bedroom, the man was wrapping Robyn in a brown blanket. The porter was helping. Mateo bit down a protest. He was committed now. He had to trust his new allies.

"Where did you get this suppressor?" Mateo asked, pointing at his pistol.

"You think the Truth is the only group that can work magic?" the man asked in reply. "Okay, I’m Jack. That’s Porter. The simple plan is he’s going to carry Robyn, I’m going to lead you out, and you’re going to kill anyone I point at."

"Why I am the shooter?" Mateo asked.

"Because you’re the only one with actual combat experience," Jack answered as he helped Porter lift Robyn up on his shoulders.

"Who else do we have?" Mateo asked looking at the two men, "The three of us are going to have a hard time once the alarm goes out."

"Listen, this little rescue is blowing assets M&W spent years getting into place. You’ll excuse me if I keep you on a need-to-know basis. If everything goes Charlie-foxtrot, I’m hoping we can keep some of our assets in place." Jack motioned for the small group to move out of the apartment.

"One last thing," Jack said as the three entered the hallway, "If it looks like I’m about to fall into the bad guys’ hands, please kill me. Preferably quick and relatively painless. I know too many of our people in this place." Mateo nodded. Jack, Mateo, and Porter walked down the hall casually. The hallway looked like it could have come out of any mid to high-priced hotel. Fortunately, it was deserted. Jack motioned for the others to move quickly to a stairwell. Jack held the door open as Mateo cleared the landing. Mateo could hear voices in the stairwell, but they sounded at least two floors down.

"We go down one floor and to room 444," Jack whispered, "Kill anyone that gets in our way." Mateo nodded and led the trio down the stairs. He kept the HK45 ready for any threat. The voices below continued to grow softer. Mateo breathing relaxed a hair. They must be going down. Two less people he’d have to kill. Mateo didn’t like killing people, even the Truth’s minions. About the only person he actually wanted to kill was Giant. The stairwell opened onto a nearly identical hall to the one they’d just left. Room 444 was five doors down from the stairwell. Satisfied the hallway was empty, Mateo dashed to the room’s door. Jack and Porter followed as Mateo covered them with his pistol. Jack jammed a keycard into the lock and shoved the door open. Porter and Mateo followed him in.

The room was similar in layout to the apartment, but it was lavishly furnished and decorated. Everything screamed expensive. Porter set Robyn down on the soft leather couch. Jack collapsed into the recliner, clearly exhausted from the stress. Mateo started to clear the small suite. He’d gone maybe a few steps when he heard the faint humming.

"Jack, there’s someone in here," Mateo said. Jack bolted upright.

"Kelly shouldn’t have beaten us here," Jack said. Mateo nodded grimly and crept towards the source of the humming. Jack followed quietly behind him. The two came to the slightly ajar bedroom door. The humming was definitely coming from inside. Mateo motioned for Jack to stand back. Mateo slammed the door open with a swift kick and strode into the room. He quickly acquired the source. A small round man in a white bathrobe looked up in surprise. Mateo froze as he recognized the tiny man. He lowered his pistol.

"Dr. de Castilla?" Mateo asked. It had been two years since Mateo had last seen the man. It was Zombie Strike’s first mission when they faced off against Xipe Tzin on an island near Hawaii. Dr. de Castilla was a Spanish archeologist who had become trapped by the zombies. He’d helped Zombie Strike find their way to the temple and then disappeared.

"Mateo?" the doctor asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Come on, we’ve got to go," Mateo said, motioning for the small man to follow him. Jack burst into the room. His eyes locked onto Dr. de Castilla.

"KILL HIM!" Jack screeched, "That’s—" Jack was flung out of the room by an invisible force before he could finish his sentence. Mateo whirled on Dr. de Castilla bringing up his HK45. The small man flicked his hand and the pistol was torn out of Mateo’s grasp. Mateo lunged to grab the doctor. De Castilla ducked under the blow and slammed a tiny palm into Mateo’s side. The blow felt like someone took a sledgehammer to his side. Mateo collapsed trying to regain his breath in between spasms of pain.

"Mateo, why didn’t you just stay in your room?" Dr. de Castilla asked his voice full of disappointment.

"Who are you?" Mateo asked between gasps.

"Well, at this point, I guess there’s no point in hiding. It’s not like you’re going anywhere," Dr. de Castilla said. He bent down to look into Mateo’s eyes.

"I am Castle. I lead the Truth. I am Xipe Totec’s greatest acolyte."

Zombie Strike Part 9 Chapter 91

Cape Town, South Africa, 5 July 2011, 1300 hours local; Countdown: 5 months, 26 days

Steve Mountain pulled his jacket a little tighter as a cool wind breezed through the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront. With Table Mountain in the background and the beautiful architecture around him, this had to be the prettiest harbor he’d seen. Now if it was just a bit warmer. July was winter time for South Africa. It was only supposed to get up in the low sixties for the day. He kept his jacket partially zipped and hoped the butt of his Kimber wasn’t printing. Granted, most of the people sitting around him at the café were oblivious. As far as they were concerned, Steve was just another tourist.

Steve took another swallow of beer and concentrated on the boat some twenty yards down the harbor from him. Actually, it was a very pretty – and very large – yacht. What brought the yacht to Steve’s attention was it was the yacht used by the Truth to smuggle Mateo and Robyn into the country. Steve didn’t know boats – that was what SEALs were for – but he was impressed. The yacht was a sleek fifty-foot job. He’d counted six men walking about it doing what looked like sailor stuff. It looked kind of like what those Navy guys were doing the last time his team had done a fast boat insert many moons ago. He held up the book reader. The covert camera sent a steady stream of video to the team’s safe house. He touched his Bluetooth headset as the phone began to vibrate.

"Ja," Steve answered in German. Like most of the world, Zombie Strike was persona non grata in South Africa. Steve’s cover was Hans Gruber, a German businessman on holiday. The Customs inspector never even raised an eyebrow at the name. Some people had no sense of humor.

"Come on home," Quentin answered, also in German.

"Nein, I should stay and wait and see if Michael shows up," Steve said. Michael was the cover name the team was using for Giant.

"Michael’s in Johannesburg. He won’t be home in time," Quentin said.

"Then, let me pay my tab, and I’ll be on my way," Steve said, carefully packing his book reader into his satchel. He didn’t want the sub-machine gun in the satchel scratching up the device. The techno-wizards back on Skull Island would never let him hear the end of it.

Twelve hours later, Steve drove the limousine up to the yacht’s gangplank. Kenn Blanchard got out of the back. Kenn was dressed in brightly colored local clothing with a big smile on his face. Steve, in a dark suit, hustled over to stand next to the Zombie Strike commander. There were two men visible on the yacht, standing just at the top of the gangplank. Both were in loose floral shirts, khaki shorts, and sandals. One started to walk down the gangplank towards Steve and Kenn. Steve could see the bulge of a submachine gun under the man’s arm.

"Can I help you, sir?" the man asked in Afrikaans-accented English.

"Absolutely," Kenn said in his best English accent. Fortunately for the mission, Kenn’s best English accent sounded Kenyan. "I am admiring your yacht. What kind is it?"

"I’m sorry sir, I don’t know. I’m just security," the man answered politely, "I’m going to have to ask you to move along."

"How rude!" Kenn barked, his eyes flashing indignantly as he gestured angrily, "Do you know who I am? How dare a servant talk to me this way?" Kenn whirled back to Steve. "Does he know who he’s talking to?" Steve looked past Kenn. The second guard was down. Quentin threw the body overboard. Steve nodded to Kenn. The Zombie Strike commander smiled and drew his KRISS submachine gun from under his robe. Kenn spun down to a crouch and placed a suppressed burst through the guard’s chest. Steve tossed the man’s body into the water and followed Kenn up the gangplank.

"Status?" Kenn asked Quentin.

"The back of the boat had one guard. Jess dealt with him. We found two guys in the control room upstairs. Chief Stahl and Sport took care of them. Jess, Billy, and Sport were about to go downstairs to ferret out anyone else," Quentin reported.

"I better go with them," Kenn said, checking the magazine on his sub gun.

"Nope, you’re staying here. We can’t afford for you to get killed on this boat," Quentin said, holding his hand up, "Kenn, do you think this team could survive losing both you and Matt? No sense you putting your life on the line unless it’s critical. Steve, the chief wants you to ride herd on the downstairs team."

"The Steve, dude," Steve answered, drawing a B&T MP9 from under his coat. Quentin waved Steve to the main deck of the yacht. Jess slung her SCAR sniper rifle and was holding an HK MP7 submachine gun. Sport smartly left his grenade launcher back at the safe house. For this operation, he was using a Mossberg shotgun with an AR-style collapsible stock. Billy’s normally white pelt was now a dark gray as he pawed at the door. As soon as Steve joined the three, Jim yanked open the door and the small team entered.

The first room was an empty dining room. Billy leapt past the opulent settings to the door of the kitchen and growled. The three humans traded looks. Jess and Sport stacked up behind Billy. Steve grabbed the door to swing it open. Billy pounced on Steve, knocking him to the deck an instant before a stream of bullets punched through the door. Sport shouldered past Jess and jabbed the muzzle of the shotgun into the door. The short Brit snarled as he pumped shell after shell into the kitchen. Jess managed to yank him back just as his shotgun clicked on an empty chamber.

"You idiot, you could have been killed," Jess hissed at Sport. The Brit didn’t say anything as he reloaded his Mossberg. Steve kicked the door. Billy and Jess darted into the kitchen with Steve and Sport following. Sport managed to punch a bunch of basket-ball sized holes with his shotgun, including one through another of the Truth’s security people.

"Got the bugger," Sport said.

"Still not cool dude," Steve said, "Just stay frosty." Sport shrugged and brought his shotgun to the low ready. The team walked into the corridor past the kitchen. It was a narrow passageway with three doors on either side. This just screamed Charlie-foxtrot.

Someone started pounding on the furthest door and screaming. The words were muffled to the point of being unintelligible, but the panic in the man’s voice was undeniable. Billy sprinted to the door and started scratching furiously. Steve tried the door, but it was locked firmly. Steve took a step back and examined the door. It opened outward, which meant kicking it in wasn’t going to happen. The guy inside continued to pound frantically.

"Sport, The Steve wants to know if you’ve got some breachers for that scattergun," Steve said.

"Of course I do," Sport answered.

"Load three of them. Shoot the hinges first," Steve said.

"Shouldn’t we get the rest of the team?" Jess asked.

"Relax, The Steve knows what he’s doing," Steve said. He knocked twice on the door. "Dude, The Steve needs you to stand back from the door." There were some muffled words. Steve just nodded. "Yeah, back away from the door." Steve motioned for Sport to get into position.

"Do you actually think he understood what you told him?" Jess asked, gripping her MP7 tightly.

"The Steve thinks we’ll find out in a moment, but it should be just fine," Steve said. Jess’s eyes went wide in surprise. Steve ignored the look and motioned to Sport. The three blasts of the shotgun rocked the narrow passageway. Steve grabbed the still-warm hole that had been the door’s handle and yanked the door out. Billy leapt past Steve. As the team entered the cabin, they found Billy cornering a minion.

"Please, stop," the minion said. "I’m here to help you."

"The Steve thinks you’re full of it," Steve said, keeping his submachine gun trained on the minion.

"No, I work for MacKenzie and Winston," the minion said, frantically, "I’m here to take you to where the Truth is holding Mateo and Robyn."

Zombie Strike Part 9 Chapter 90

Skull Island, South Pacific, 2 July 2011, 0800 hours local; Countdown: 5 months, 29 days

Steve Mountain couldn’t muster his normal cheery smile as he walked into the command center. Steve could feel the tension as the intelligence techs poured over hundreds of field reports looking for the tiniest hint of where the Truth had taken Mateo and Robyn. Everyone in Zombies Strike was on edge. It made sense. Zombie Strike’s field commander and M&W’s liaison had been abducted twenty-two days ago from the very place the team should have been the most secure. So now, the entire operation was running itself to the ragged edge to compensate for a collective guilt and fear.

Steve kept his entrance quiet. A field team member was always on duty to assist the intelligence folks and to get the ball rolling if something developed. Inside the glass-walled conference at the heart of the command center, Chief Stahl paced. Stahl carried a mug of coffee in one hand and reading off the tablet in his other. Steve walked in to join the chief. At least working for one of the largest and oldest global insurance firms had its perks. The coffee was much better than the paint thinner substitute he’d endured in his days with the Army.

"I guess it is that time," Stahl rumbled as Steve entered the conference room. "Take a seat, Mountain."

"What’s up, chief?" Steve asked. Stahl’s eyebrow arched up in surprise when Steve didn’t correct the name.

"I think we’re fiddling while Rome burns," Stahl said, cryptically. "You’ve been on this team the longest, and you’re a former soldier, so I want to run this by you first. I think we need to get back in the field. Tredegar sent us a report on a minion Task Force 11 caught sneaking down from Canada. His little team backtracked the minion to Hong Kong. We have other information that the Truth has a major base in Hong Kong."

"So you’re thinking we should be hitting Hong Kong and forget about searching for Matt?" Steve asked. His tone was light, but his brown eyes were cold.

"I’m saying the field team needs to get back in the fight," Stahl said, "We’ve already turned down two priority taskings from TF 11 and the Australians."

"The problem, dude, is this is not a military unit. If we were back in the teams, or in the Rangers, then I’d be all on that," Steve said, "This team just doesn’t roll like that. General Allen knows it. That’s why he didn’t get really upset when Kenn told him we couldn’t deal with that mess in Santiago." Stahl started to say something, but was cut off by one of the Triplets banging on the conference room door. The two field team members shot up right as the diminutive Korean burst into the room.

"We may have found him," Park said, vibrating with excitement. The Triplets were MacKenzie and Winston’s crack data intelligence team.

"Where?" the two men chorused.

"Cape Town," Park answered, "Maybe a week ago. One of Toyota’s car carriers reported seeing an unknown submarine rendezvous with a yacht, the Beautiful Truth, about a hundred kilometers south of Cape Town. According to the Chinese, that yacht came back into Cape Town harbor and very discretely unloaded several individuals."

"I didn’t know we were sharing information with the Chinese," Stahl said. Park quickly went still and proceeded to stare intently at the floor.

"We’re not. We offered, but the Chinese want to do their own thing," Steve said.

"You hacked Chinese intelligence?" Stahl asked incredulously. Park visibly gulped and continued to stare at the floor. "Damn, that’s good work. Go clean up any footprints and tell your partners to pack up." Park looked up confused. Stahl simply smiled as he pressed the recall button on his tablet.

"It looks like we’re going to South Africa."

Truth compound, South Africa, 2 July 2011, 1000 hours local; Countdown: 5 months, 29 days

Mateo Cortez watched Robyn Adams as she slept. It had been another bad night for Robyn. Between the pain from her injuries, and the nightmares of the beatings, Robyn only slept in fits and starts. She’d finally relented and let Mateo give her some of the drugs the Truth’s doctor provided. Mateo knew Robyn was ashamed that she was the anchor the Truth was using to keep Mateo from trying to escape. She was trying as hard as she could to stop being a liability. It wasn’t her fault. The Truth was smart. They knew Mateo wouldn’t leave her behind or do anything to endanger her.

Mateo’s head snapped up as Robyn moaned painfully in her sleep. The Truth hadn’t just beaten her. They’d crippled her. Knees and ankles were destroyed and barely treated. Rachel could barely hobble around the small apartment on crutches. For someone who loved to run, it was beyond cruel. Frustrated at the thought, Mateo shot up from the chair and stormed over to one of the large picture windows. He looked down on the Truth’s soldiers training in the main courtyard and desperately wished he had his rifle.

A knock came at the door. Mateo took a deep breath and forced the grimace from his face. He slowly walked over to the door of the apartment, using the brief time to contain his rage. A round, petite woman in a business suit walked in carrying a professional leather folder. Her gray-streaked brown hair was tied back in a professional bun. Her brown eyes sparkled behind thick glasses as she surveyed the apartment.

"Good morning Mr. Cortez," Cassandra said, opening the folder, "Is Ms. Adams still in bed?"

"You know she is," Mateo said, gritting out the words. The day after they’d arrived at this compound, Cassandra showed up at their door. She introduced herself as their concierge with the duties of making their stay as enjoyable as possible, under the circumstances. She’d said the last part so nonchalantly, Mateo nearly punched the tiny woman.

"Please, Mr. Cortez, I am only trying to be courteous. We have a very good orthopedic team being flown in to take care of Ms. Adams’ injuries." Cassandra paused to give Mateo a neutral look. Giant had been very clear on that point. Robyn would be taken care of as long as Mateo didn’t attempt to escape. If anything, the Truth seemed intent on keeping Mateo and Robyn in a gilded cage until it was time for him to fulfill his role in their prophecies. The apartment was more like a luxury suite in a five star hotel.

"I have the lunch menu for today," Cassandra said, pulling out a folded paper and setting it on the writing desk. "If you could please ring the kitchen within the hour with your selections, we would appreciate it. The maids will be in here after lunch for cleaning, and we’ll do the security check at that time. Is there anything else you would require?"

"No, thank you," Mateo said as politely as he could. Cassandra smiled pleasantly and bustled out of the room. Mateo resisted the urge to destroy something. He picked up the menu. As he scanned the choices, he noticed something odd. The number listed wasn’t the number for the kitchen. It was probably just a misprint since it was only one number off. Just to be contrarian, he dialed the number on the menu. It rang twice before someone picked up.

"Don’t say anything Mateo. Just listen," a hushed male voice said, "I’m a friend. We both work for the same firm. Right now, just focus on getting Ms. Adams healthy enough to move. I’m trying to get your team here. I’ll keep contacting you this way, but it may be sparse for a bit." The man hung up. Mateo stared at the phone for a moment. It could be just a plot to keep him in line. If they made him think rescue was coming, Mateo should be less like to try something himself. It was possible, but something in the man’s voice made Mateo think otherwise. For the first time in a long while, a real smile crept across Mateo’s face.

Zombie Strike Part 9 Chapter 89

Skull Island, South Pacific, 11 June 2011, 2215 hours local; Countdown: 6 months, 19 days

Steve Mountain’s eyes snapped open as the alarm klaxon blared through Zombie Strike’s headquarters. Steve swallowed four ibuprofen tablets with a swig of an energy drink. This had better not be a drill. The team was already on the ragged edge from the past week. Steve almost slipped the entire team some sedatives just so everyone would get some rest. The alarm stopped mercifully as Steve snatched his go-bag and sprinted down the stairs. The new command center was laid out similar to the old one. The field team had a glass lined conference room in the center with intelligence and command stations surrounding them. Dozens of large flat screens were hung around the room showing everything from satellite feeds to CNN. Kenn Blanchard, Zombie Strike’s commander, was already in the conference room. Dr. Jacobs, Zombie Strike’s chief medical and science officer, was wrapping Kenn’s ribs while Kenn clenched his teeth in pain.

"What’s up, doc?" Steve said as he strode into the room.

"That stopped being funny the second time you said that Mr. Mountain," Dr. Jacobs said firmly. The doc was definitely a hottie, but she needed to find a sense of humor. "As to your question, Mr. Blanchard suffered some bruised ribs at the hands of Giant."

"The Steve wants to know when you and Giant faced off," Steve said to Kenn.

"That’s a good question," Chief Stahl said, storming into the conference room. The rest of the team trailed behind the imposing former warrant officer.

"Gather round and take a seat," Kenn said, waving his hand. Zombie Strike’s field team filed into the room and sat down. Their faces were a mix of careful neutral expressions and wariness. All except Billy. The wolf pup just sat at Jess’s feet. Billy was a cool dude.

"About ten minutes ago, Giant snatched Mateo off the north dock," Kenn said. He held up a hand to forestall the immediate outburst from the team, "He dragged Mateo into the water. Right now, all of our aircraft are taking off, and we’re going to be doing a full search around the island. We also sent a message out to Task Force 11 and to Mackenzie and Winston."

"How did Giant get on Skull Island?" growled Chief Stahl.

"Gunny’s looking into it right now," Kenn said.

"C’mon dudes. There’s so much construction going on right now, it wouldn’t exactly be hard to slip through security," Steve said. "What The Steve wants to know is where’s Giant taking our fearless leader."

"We don’t know, but we’ve got every intelligence asset and analyst working right now," Kenn said. "As soon as we get a tickle, we’re wheels up." Eyebrows were raised around the table. Kenn was planning on tagging along for this little op. The chief started to say something, but a sharp look from Kenn stopped him.

"Any way we can get Tredegar’s plane turned around?" Quentin asked, "We could really use him on the analyst side."

"No, but we’ve got a team of M&W’s best on a fast jet here," Kenn answered. "They should be here in a few hours. Thank God, they were doing some work over in Sydney. Quentin, I need you and Jess working on those prophecies. If the Truth snatched Matt because something in the prophecies told them to, I want to know as soon as possible. The rest of you need to prep the fast jet so we can move as soon as we know something. Are there any questions?" Jess looked around the command center before raising her hand.

"Where’s Robyn?"

Somewhere in the south Pacific, 12 June 2011, 0200 hours local; Countdown: 6 months, 18 days

Mateo Cortez groaned as he woke up. He felt like his entire body was out of sync. His limbs and head were slow to move. He was probably shaking off the last bits of being drugged. He looked around. Mateo was lying on a fold-away cot in a metal room with a single fluorescent light blazing away. Other than the cot, the room was empty. The air was cool, but smelled of oil. Mateo felt a thrumming in the floor as he stood up from the tiny cot. It had to be a ship. Mateo remembered Giant dragging him into the water back on Skull Island, but nothing after that. Wherever he was, they’d taken his clothes and gear. He was dressed in rough khaki pants and a blue t-shirt.

Mateo silently walked along the walls of his cell looking for two things – monitoring devices and something he could use as a weapon. The walls were smooth and light gray with a faint smell of new paint. That drudged up an old memory. Mateo’s father spent a good deal of time aboard ships as a Marine. Mateo complained once about having to paint the house, and his father gave him a three-hour lecture about the constant chipping and painting that Chief Petty’s always seemed to find for underperforming sailors and Marines.

The thought stopped Mateo. He hadn’t thought of his father in years. Both of his parents were long dead – father from cancer, mom from a drunk driver just after. Mateo remembered his mother anytime he saw his daughter Mercedes. The little girl looked so much like his mother. A loud clanking snapped Mateo back to the present. The wall opposite the cot slid into the floor revealing another room separated by thick iron bars. On the other side of the bars stood Giant and another man dressed in robes. The new man wore a brilliant headdress of feathers and gold, which pegged him as a sorcerer. Mateo fought down the urge to snarl and kept his demeanor as casual and neutral as possible.

"You’re getting much better at that Mateo," Giant said. "The first few times we met, you just radiated anger."

"What do you want Giant?" Mateo asked.

"I already have what I want. You," Giant answered, pointing a long, thin finger at Mateo, "You’ve come too close to dying these past few months. It’s past time to secure you to prevent you from harming the prophecies."

"Not very prophetic if I can thwart them so easily," Mateo said.

"Be quiet Blasphemer!" the sorcerer hissed, "The Prophecies are the word handed down by the Flayed One. You are not fit to speak of them!" Mateo looked over at the sorcerer and then back at Giant. Mateo’s nemesis shrugged and then backhanded the sorcerer hard enough to send the man flying back. The sorcerer crashed into deck several yards behind Giant. Mateo wasn’t sure if Giant managed to kill the sorcerer until he saw the slight rise and fall of the sorcerer’s robes.

"They get on my nerves sometimes," Giant said, as if in explanation, "Now, where was I? Ah yes. We have decided to keep you safe and under our control until the time comes for you to play your part. Now, after fighting against you for some time now, I know you’re trying to figure out how to escape and kill as many of my people as you can in the process." Giant paused, waiting for Mateo to agree with the statement. Mateo just stared at Giant.

"To keep you from doing something stupid, I will tell you now that you are on a submarine some four hundred meters under water. We should be aboard ship for the next couple of weeks before reaching our destination."

"Diesel or nuke?" Mateo asked flatly. Giant eyes widened in surprise at the question.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Giant asked.

"I just want to know how bad I’m going to pollute the ocean when I sink this boat," Mateo answered.

"That might not be your best option," Giant said. The tall man motioned to a hatch behind him. A hulking man walked into the room carrying a large sack over his shoulder. The man was built like Quentin and dressed as a minion. Giant’s whip snapped through the bars, forcing Mateo to step to the back of his cage. Bars slid into the floor forming an opening just big enough for the minion to come into the cage. He carefully laid the sack on the deck and walked out of the cage. As soon as the minion was through the bars, the wall slid back into place. Mateo opened the sack. It was all he could do to control his rage. He yanked the sack off and carried a bruised and battered Robyn Adams to the cot. For the first time, Mateo didn’t want to kill Giant. He wanted to make the twisted man suffer for all eternity.

Zombie Strike Part 9 Chapter 88