The Deaths of Tao Page 36

  Get them off Emerson

  “Where’s Marco?”

  Busy with six Genjix.

  Jill ducked back behind the car and moved to a better vantage point. A pattering of bullets striking metal sparked all around her. Sensing a figure out of the corner of her eye, she spun to the side, changed levels, and fired twice. She was rewarded with a high-pitched cry of pain. Jill rolled to her feet and looked at her would-be killer. It was Simon.

  Jill approached him cautiously. He was writhing on the ground in pain, having taken two shots to the abdomen. His pistol was several meters off to the side. He pushed himself into a sitting position as he stared at her warily. Then he smirked. “Hello, counselor.”

  “Simon,” she replied, approaching with pistol held up.

  Finish him quickly.

  “I guess it’s your move,” he said with labored breath. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to kill you, Simon,” she said, voice deadpan.

  “I don’t blame you,” he spit out blood. “It doesn’t matter to me. Biall will still live. And as long as my Holy One does, I will live forever.”

  “You care a little.”

  “Go to hell, bitch,” he spat. “Get it over with. Shoot me!”

  We need to get back to the others.

  “I’m not going to shoot you, Simon,” Jill said, holstering her gun. She took out the last grenade, pulled the pin, and dropped it a few feet away from Simon. “I don’t think Biall is going to get very far either.” Then she sprinted for cover.

  “Noooooo...” was all she heard before the explosion sent her tumbling to the ground.

  Well done. Biall will not survive that.

  Jill moved back toward Emerson’s last known location. Moving around the back of a gray Range Rover, she caught sight of the two Genjix near the door. Two targets at thirty meters behind cover. Jill wasn’t confident about the shot.

  Relax. Clear your mind. Exhale and make the shot.

  Instead of clearing her mind, an image of her friends popped into her head. Paula, battered but still fighting, giving away ground in that silo inch by inch, buying time with their blood. Valkner, older than her parents, fighting with his last breath. Even dying, his last concern was for the safety of Eymi. Wilks, a man who yesterday wasn’t even involved, now trying to pull the Prophus away from total defeat. Then she thought back again to an injured Paula, waiting for that explosion so she could pull her people out. There was no way in hell Jill was going to let them down after all that they had sacrificed. She bit her lip, went down to a kneeling position, moved her sights back and forth between the two targets, and then took them both out with two shots.

  Great shots.

  “Time for pats on the back later.”

  She made her way toward the last Genjix and found him lying face down on the ground with Emerson kneeling over him. He was still carrying the launcher on his back, but looked like he was about to fall over. His chest and shoulder was crimson red all the way down to his arms. “What happened to you?”

  Emerson looked at the torn flesh exposed just below his collarbone and then shrugged with his good shoulder. “I got nicked by a bullet or three.” He grimaced as he tried to unstrap the launcher. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to shoot this puppy. You’re going to have to.”

  Jill blanched. Shooting a RPG was not part of her training.

  It is easy. Point and pull the trigger, like operating a vacuum cleaner.

  “I don’t know what sorts of house cleaning you’re used to, but the ones I have–”

  We do not have time. Just do it.

  Jill stared at the dull long metal tube for a second, and then knelt down and propped it on her right shoulder. It was heavier than she thought.

  “I’ll help steady it,” Emerson said, “but you’re going to have to aim. Go for the top of the entrance.”

  Move a bit closer but no more than thirty meters. At this distance, expect heavy blow back. I would rather you hit the target though.

  They knelt down next to the Range Rover in front of the entrance. Jill saw a dozen or so Genjix in the tunnel. They noticed her just as Emerson rapped the launcher with his fist and told her he was ready. Two of them tried to charge out of the tunnel as she squeezed the trigger. The resulting explosion knocked her onto her butt. She didn’t see the trajectory of the RPG but the shock wave was so massive she momentarily blacked out. When she came to, Emerson was dragging her away from the wreckage with his good arm.

  “Did we hit it?” she gasped.

  He smiled and helped her to her feet. “You were about half a meter off the mark, but let’s face it, precision work wasn’t necessary here. You did it. We blocked the passage. Let’s hook up with Marco and get back to the tunnel.”

  Marco! Jill hoped he was alright. He had dealt with the most of the Genjix. They backtracked the way they came and found him leaning against a boulder having a cigarette. There were six dead Genjix lying about.

  He saw them coming and waved. “I would have gone to check up on you, but I seem to have walked into a shotgun blast, and now this bloody leg is being a bad dog.”

  Jill ran up to him. “Oh my God, you took a full shotgun to the hip?”

  “Well, it was a bird shot,” he inhaled and puffed out a cloud of smoke. “So I’m sure it’s probably in parts of my chest and arms as well.”

  As she got close, she noticed that he was bleeding all over and gasped at the amount of blood pouring out of his body. How he was still conscious was beyond her. Suddenly, there was another explosion and the mountainside shook. The three of them looked up as debris came tumbling down the sides.

  “That must be Paula. You two stay here,” she ordered. “I’m going to go check up on her. And then we’ll get you to a doctor.”

  Marco waved her away. “No rush, take your time.” He turned to Emerson and offered him a cigarette. “By your accent, dear fellow, Northern Ireland? First time in the States?”

  Emerson accepted it and sat down next to him. “Aye, came across the pond with Paula. Much chillier here than I thought it’d be.”

  Jill shook her head and left the two boys to their own devices. She still had to round up all the survivors and move them to the evacuation site. Then they could lick their wounds and plan the next step. She walked around the ravine back to the hidden entrance. It was exhaling a small cloud of dust that reminded her of puffs of a cigar. Rather than waiting outside, Jill went in to help the survivors. Twenty meters into the tunnel, she found the cave in. She stopped and looked frantically for another way through.

  Oh no! Paula must have had to cause the cave in before they could escape. They are all trapped with the Genjix.

  Jill collapsed to the ground and stared at tons of earth and rock for God knows how long until Marco and Emerson eventually found her. Refusing to give up, she picked up a rock and banged on the rubble, making loud tapping noises that echoed through the tunnel, hoping for a sign of life from inside, but none ever came.

  FORTY-THREE

  SHIP FIGHTING

  The rest of the story you know. My triumph and fall with Temujin, my time with Zhu as emperor, and everything else since is an old shared story between us. So why did I start at the beginning? Because you, Roen, needed to know. Now we are whole, you and I. I am laid bare before you as all Quasing are before humanity.

  The rules have changed. Humans can now throw off the yokes of our influence. I am not absolved of the Quasing’s crimes. I admit to my role in humanity’s enslavement. I am as guilty as most. My only solace is that I, along with the rest of the Prophus, saw the error in our ways and tried our best to atone for our crimes.

  Tao

  We cannot hold this line. Sound the retreat!

  “Already? That didn’t last long.”

  Roen ducked behind a shipping container and yelled as loud as he could. “Everyone get the fuck out of here! Pull back!”

  You could have said it in a less panicked way.

 
Truthfully though, the fight was going exactly as Roen had sounded. He abandoned his position and scurried toward the tower, occasionally diving behind cover and taking a few pot shots at the Genjix troops overwhelming their position. Everywhere he looked, the defenders of Imelda’s Song fell back with as much dignity as anyone who just had their asses handed to them could. In other words, it was an all-out rout three minutes into the fighting.

  Roen’s team and the crew had never stood a chance. Though the crew was determined to defend the ship, no amount of untrained men armed with spear guns, pistols, and enthusiasm could overcome twenty heavily-armed shock troops. He gave the crew credit for standing their ground even that long.

  “Get below deck. Regroup at the mess hall,” he yelled over the sounds of automatic gunfire.

  Duck!

  Roen dove to the side just as a hail of bullets plastered the wall where he was just standing moments earlier. He rolled onto his knees and opened fire, felling one of the Genjix. Then he realized he had just put himself badly out of position and was now exposed.

  Genjix top left and ground level right. Two more approaching.

  An image of four Genjix flashed into his mind: one standing on top of a container, one trying to flank him from the side of the ship, and two charging forward from the far back.

  Roen looked for cover, already knowing that he wasn’t going to make it unless these Genjix were really bad shots. He tried to scramble for cover, but bullets kicked up dust around him, and he flattened against the floor. Just then, Hutch appeared next to him and began to empty clip after clip.

  “Get on your feet, sir,” he growled. “Let’s go!”

  Together, they retreated, still shooting as they fled toward the stairs leading down to the lower levels on the starboard side of the ship. They were almost to safety when Hutch gasped and fell. Roen grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the stairs and down a few steps.

  “Argh, can’t feel my legs,” Hutch growled. “Leave me.”

  “Save your breath,” Roen said, wrapping his arms around his waist. Hutch pushed him away and waved him off.

  “I got you covered, sir,” he said. “They won’t take these stairs without paying for it.”

  He is right. Get going.

  “God damn it!” Roen slammed his fist on the steps. “I’m not leaving–”

  “Shut the hell up, Roen,” Hutch spat out blood. “You’re a good guy but you talk too much. I’m done for. Now get out of here before it’s too late!”

  Roen hesitated, and then ran down the stairs. Behind him, Hutch roared and rained wrath down on whichever Genjix was unfortunate enough to try to approach those stairs. He made it down two more levels and halfway to the mess hall when Hutch’s yelling died. Roen stopped for a beat and paid homage to Hutch’s courage. There was going to be hell to pay for this. When he got to the mess hall, Dylan and half a dozen of the crew were waiting for him.

  “Is this it?” Roen asked, looking around. If this was everyone who had made it, they were in really bad shape.

  Dylan shook his head. “This is everyone from the tower. Manny should be along shortly. He and two of the guys stayed at the bridge to disable the engine. I was able to get a distress call out to Prophus sub-channels, then we rounded up everyone we could find and brought them down here.”

  A minute later, Faust and Jim appeared with another five of the crew in tow. Then Grant and two more joined in after them.

  “Where are Jim and Ray?” Roen asked, already fearing the worst.

  “Jim covered the port flank while everyone ran,” Grant said. “A grenade blew him out to sea. I haven’t seen Ray.” He looked around the room. “Hutch?”

  Roen gritted his teeth and shook his head.

  “How many confirmed kills do we have?” Dylan asked.

  A couple of guys raised their hands. Even more said they’d struck one but doubted it was a killing shot. These Genjix shock troops were pretty heavily armored after all. He estimated their remaining strength to be at approximately twelve. Eight Genjix killed compared to over twenty team and crew.

  “We need to get deeper in,” Faust said. “Fight a guerrilla war. The crew knows the lay of the land. We can hide in the ship for days and hit them when they’re not expecting it.”

  Dylan disagreed. “They’ll have control of the bridge by now. If they take over the entire ship, they’ll steer it toward China. Then we’re as good as dead anyway.”

  That much was true. Next to North Korea, China was the worst place in the world for a Prophus. The last Prophus agent in North Korea disappeared in 1948, shortly after Kim Il Sung, host of a Quasing, coincidently named Sung, assumed control of the country. Since then, it had been a black hole, and the Prophus, like the rest of the world, avoided it at all costs. It was rumored that Sung was a family heirloom handed down from father to son as a symbol of their power.

  The sounds of men yelling “clear” could suddenly be made out in the distance. Roen put his finger to his mouth and pointed at the door. Everyone in the room got up and followed Dylan toward the front of the ship. Along the way, they ran into Pedro, Manny’s first mate.

  “We busted the engine controls,” Pedro said, “but then one of those gringos came to the bridge. The captain gutted him with a machete.” He was in tears. “I told the captain we have to go, but he didn’t want to leave the bridge.”

  “It’s alright,” Roen said, patting Pedro on the shoulder. “You did what you could. Let’s go.”

  Together, the ragtag group moved across the entire length of the ship and down several floors, finally coming to a stop in one of the shipping containers holding pallets of bananas and oranges alongside several crates of opium and cocaine.

  “Get some rest,” Faust said. “This place is as good as any.”

  Roen looked around. The team looked no worse for wear but the crew looked like they’d been dragged through the ringer. Getting some rest here was as good as anywhere else. There were enough nooks and crannies on this ship that it would take a stroke of luck for the Genjix to find them. He closed his eyes, and just as he was about to doze off, the PA system squealed and emitted static.

  A grainy but familiar voice began to speak over it. “To whoever is still alive, we have control of the ship and captured several of your people. We do not care about the crew, just the passengers on board. Hand them over and the rest of you go free. Else, once we reach a Chinese military port, all your lives are forfeit. The choice is yours.”

  It is Jacob.

  Roen swore under his breath. That damn punk kid. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

  Really. When was that?

  “Good luck getting anywhere with the engines disabled, asshole,” Dylan chuckled.

  Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of the engine sputtered and began to rumble.

  “Aww, crap,” he added.

  “And as a bonus,” Jacob continued. “Until you comply, we will interview your friends over the PA system, starting with this Prophus agent. What’s your name?” Then they all heard the sickening smack of a fist to flesh and the grunt of someone trying desperately to not cry out.

  “Ray...” Faust whispered. The beating continued for several more seconds in an almost rhythmic pattern.

  Jacob continued. “We’ll be at the tower chatting with your man here. He’ll be beaten until he dies. And then we’ll move on to the next prisoner until you give yourselves up. If you like, you can listen in.”

  Over the next few minutes, Ray’s groans echoed across the entire ship. The weary people in the container exchanged glances. Roen was pretty sure he knew what everyone was thinking. The team probably worried about their captured friend while the crew probably considered turning them in. Yet no one moved a muscle as they sat in silence, trying to push out the sounds of torture playing in the background.

  Do not do it, Roen. He is as good as dead. Do not throw your life away.

  The guilt ate at him. He saw Hutch’s face, then Wuehler’s,
and then Sonya’s. And then he thought back to his friends who had died fighting the Genjix while he had stood on the sidelines chasing conspiracy theories. It didn’t pain him any less that those theories had turned out to be true. He still wasn’t there when they needed him. And now, he was hiding in a container while that punk Jacob beat his friend to death.

  “I can’t just sit here.” He stood up and headed out the door.

  “Where are you going, Roen?” Dylan asked.

  Roen turned to him slowly. “I’m going to check up on Ray and see what I can do.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Dylan replied, picking himself off the ground and joining him.

  A few minutes later, Roen watched horrified through a pair of binoculars at the scene on the outside deck of the bridge on the fourth floor of the tower. Two Genjix held Ray up while a third beat him. He was such a bloody mess that Roen couldn’t even recognize him. There were five more crew lying face down on the deck with their hands behind their heads.

  Next to them, that little psychopath Jacob lounged in a chair drinking a jug of the crew’s lambanog. It seemed all four of them were taking turns using Ray as a punching bag. Roen wasn’t sure how long Ray was going to last but it couldn’t be that much longer.

  “I’m going to get him out.”

  That is suicide.

  “We’re basically dead anyway. Might as well die trying to rescue my friend.”

  Roen, I count nine on the bridge and outer deck. You would not get within... Wait.

  “What, Tao?”

  There are nine Genjix on the top of the tower. If they are all there...