Category: Zombie Strike

Barcelona, Spain; 2 October 2011, 2300 hours local; Countdown: 2 months, 29 days

Quentin McLintock shoved the antique door back into the door frame. The door was actually in good shape. The mountings, on the other hand, were rusted enough they cracked apart when Quentin knocked the door down. There wasn’t enough time to do repairs. As soon as the door was up, Jim and Chief Stahl shoved one of the pews against the doors to hold them up. It wasn’t much of a barricade, but it’d do the job.

"Sanctuary is secured," Stahl reported over the team’s radio as he reached down and picked up one of the acolyte’s G36 assault rifles.

"Back door’s closed," Sport answered, sounding out of breath.

"Roof’s set up," Jess answered. Just before the team barricaded themselves in, Jess and Billy climbed up on to the small church’s roof. Out of reach of the oncoming zombie horde, Jess would be free to reign down fire as the team needed. Billy, of course, refused to leave her side. Quentin wasn’t sure how the large spirit wolf pup made it up the side of the brick wall, but he could clearly hear the soft thumps of him walking across the roof.

"Quentin, get back here. We’re about to clear out the rats," Mateo said. Quentin trotted through one of the doors at the back of the sanctuary to the small church kitchen. He nearly gagged as he was hit with a thick black smoke.

"What is this?" Quentin asked.

"Something he cooked up," Mateo answered, thumbing over at The Steve. The team medic, and sometimes mad scientist, just smiled broadly. In his hands was a small bottle. The thick smoke was pouring out of the bottle’s top. Mateo motioned for The Steve to move to the door that led down to the basement.

"Is that going to work?" Quentin asked.

"The Steve knows his kitchen sink chemistry," The Steve answered confidently.

"One way to know for sure," Mateo said. The Zombie Strike field leader opened the door a crack and shouted down at the acolytes in the basement. "Sofocar sus armas! Rendirse o quemar!" Put down your weapons! Surrender or burn! Mateo waited for a brief second. Then, he nodded to The Steve, who opened the door and tossed the smoking bottle down into the basement. The basement erupted with the sounds of men screaming in terror. Footsteps pounded on the wooden steps. Quentin grabbed the first acolyte that appeared in the doorway. The startled man was yanked off his feet and slammed into a wall. He fell limply to the ground. Quentin drew his pistol and turned back to the others. Mateo and The Steve were ushering them to the ground with their own weapons. The four acolytes were quickly bound and relieved of their weapons. Amateurs they might be, but these guys had good equipment.

"What about the Guardians?" Quentin asked.

"I think they can take care of themselves," Mateo answered, "We have a horde to deal with. Seraph, what’s the status on the zombies?"

"Maybe a hundred meters from the church," Seraph answered, "The entire neighborhood’s fleeing in panic. Reports are the Catalan government is calling in the Army." Mateo and Quentin traded looks. If the Spanish Army found the team, Zombie Strike could look to a long detention, if they weren’t turned over to the Truth outright.

"Matt, can I start shooting already?" Jess asked.

"Go to it," Mateo answered. The deep throaty crack of Jess’s rifle was the only reply. Mateo turned to Chief Stahl. "We’ve got to finish this fast. Any suggestions?"

"See if Sport and Mountain can cook something up quick," Stahl answered, "Explosives are the only way we’re going to end this quick. Otherwise, it’s a basic siege. We’ve got decent barricades, so crush is pretty far off. Anything those two can do?" Stahl pointed behind Mateo and Quentin. The two turned and saw the Guardians standing next to the overturned altar like living statues.

"We are the Guardians of the Truth, not of you," the Guardians spoke, "Only one of you has been marked as being one of the five corners of the ritual. Some of you might or might not. If you perish here, then you are not."

"Okay, then let’s get to surviving," Mateo said. "Steve, go see what you and Sport can do." Surprisingly, the medic didn’t correct Mateo about his name and instead trotted back to the church’s small kitchen. "Jim cover the back. Take an AK and one of the German guns." As Jim left, Stahl, Mateo, and Quentin shattered the stain glass windows that looked towards the oncoming horde. As Mateo and the chief opened fire on the horde, Quentin started pushing pews over to the windows to act as barricades when the zombies closed. As Quentin heaved the last pew over, he looked back at the Guardians.

"What did you mean that only one of us was marked?" he asked of the stone-like ancient men.

"Five corners of the circle," one said.

"Two have been marked," the other continued.

"The other corners have yet to be completely revealed. Only in the city of the dead will all the corners be revealed," the two Guardians said together.

"What if the marked one dies here?" Quentin asked.

"The mark will pass," the Guardians answered, "Nothing is certain until the moment. Everything is paths of smoke until the moment. The moment will define the marked." Quentin grimaced at their cryptic answers. The whole point of this mission was to get some clarity. He could have stayed back on Skull Island with the prophecies if the Guardians always talked like this.

"If you’re done with the Aztec fortune cookies, get on the horn with Seraph and find some way to get us out of here," Chief Stahl shouted back between magazine changes. "We are not going to deal with this horde before the Mossos d’Esquadra show up, and I’d rather not spend time in a Spanish jail."

"Seraph, have you managed to work any magic for us?" Quentin asked over the radio.

"Hold them for another ten minutes, love," Seraph answered. "Be ready to exit out the front. Leave the bloody acolytes. Do you know how you are going to bring the Guardians?"

"I don’t think anyone brings them anywhere they don’t want to go," Quentin said. As if they were hearing the conversation, the two Guardians nodded simultaneously. "We’ll be ready Seraph." Quentin walked back to the Guardians.

"Are you going to come with us?" Quentin asked. The Guardians nodded again. "Why?"

"It is as foretold by the prophets of the Great Flayed One," the Guardians answered.

"I don’t understand. You just said that nothing is certain until the moment. What can be foretold if nothing is certain?" Quentin demanded.

"Some paths are more likely than others. As we move to the moment, the false paths fall away. The path you are following is more likely to lead to the moment than others. You must be shown the past so you can see the future." The chief was wrong. These two were more cryptic than the worse fortune cookie. Quentin walked back to the windows. Maybe taking down some zombies would clear the frustration. One of the acolytes had the common decency to have an MP5 submachine gun. Quentin preferred the 10mm version, but this one would do fine. The zombies were maybe a hundred meters from the church. A short burst from the submachine gun took down one in the front of the horde. Quentin lost himself in the battle. He wasn’t even aware of how long he’d been shooting at the zombies until Jess started hollering over the radio.

"What kind of SUV is that?" she said, "We’ve got some kind of huge truck coming up behind us. It looks like a luxury MRAP." Quentin heard the giant motor rumbling as the vehicle neared.

"Time to go, chaps and lady," Seraph said over the radio. "You might want to rush things a bit. Those zombies seem to be a bit attracted to my new toy." As Quentin stepped out of the church, he paused at the sight of the vehicle. It did look like one of the luxury makers spruced up an MRAP, armor and all. Jess and Billy were on the roof of the vehicle. The girl was still taking shots at the horde. The rest of the team dashed out of the church, clutching all of their stolen gear. Quentin climbed in just after Jess and Billy swung down into the truck.

"Your new toy?" Quentin asked as he strapped into the seat behind Seraph. She gunned the engine and slammed the truck into gear. The huge vehicle leapt backwards with surprising speed.

"I’m sure my father’s going to have some questions about the expense, but really, how often do you get to play with something like this?" Seraph asked. Quentin didn’t have a good answer, so he just sat back and let the exotically beautiful woman navigate the leviathan of a truck through the narrow streets of Barcelona.

"It is time to show you more," the Guardians’ voices echoed through his mind. Before Quentin could say anything, the world around him dropped away.

Zombie Strike Part 10 Chapter 101

Barcelona, Spain; 2 October 2011, 2230 hours local; Countdown: 2 months, 29 days

Quentin McLintock kept his Colt Delta Elite 10-millimeter at a low ready. Next to him, Chief Stahl kept a beat-up AK-47 pointed at the old church. Marc, the last of their little group, stayed further back in the shadows with a disapproving look. The French investigator didn’t like how quickly the team broke out the firearms. He just sat back murmuring about American barbarians. Quentin and the chief ignored his disapproval. They kept a close eye on their teammates approaching the church.

Mateo led Jess, Jim, Sport, and the Steve down the boulevard with Billy trailing behind them a few yards. They looked to all the world like simple tourists who strayed just a bit too far off the beaten path. The two acolytes standing a sloppy guard at the front of the church looked over at the group and quickly dismissed them. Quentin tensed as Mateo’s team walked closer. He should have been with that group, not stuck in the shadows across the street. Chief Stahl put a calming hand on Quentin’s shoulder. Mateo had his reasons. It was over fast. Mateo took a step towards the near acolyte. The young man turned like he was going to say something. He never had the chance. Jim snaked past Mateo and hammered the acolyte with a precise fist. Jim easily had a hundred pounds on the skinny acolyte. The acolyte bounced off the stone wall and flopped to the ground. The Steve was tightening the zip-tie on the second acolyte before the first one hit the ground. Mateo signaled for Quentin and the chief to join up. Marc cursed as they jogged across the street as he tried to hold on to the oversized bag with the extra weapons.

"Well?" Mateo asked over the radio.

"You’re clear," Seraph answered from her perch on a nearby roof. "The boys inside didn’t even hear you. Six of them are standing in the middle of the sanctuary. They look bored from their posture. I am unable to find the remaining four acolytes or the two minions." There was a note of warning in Seraph’s voice. Mateo just looked at the feed from Seraph’s camera.

"Quentin kicks the door," Mateo said, pointing at the big man, "We’ve got pairs of bad guys at twelve, two, and nine on the inside. Watch your zones." The team stacked up as Marc dragged the two bound acolytes across the street. Quentin lined up against the heavy wood door. The anthropologist in him catalogued the intricate carvings. He really hoped they managed to take down these guys fast without too much damage to the church. The doors themselves had to be at least three hundred years old. Mateo gave the signal and all the extraneous thoughts running through Quentin’s mind stopped. It was just him, his team, and the door.

Quentin shouldered into the door like it was a tackling dummy. The heavy door hesitated for the briefest moment before giving way under Quentin’s charge. Quentin followed the door into the church and fell to the side as Chief Stahl came storming behind him. The distinctive chatter of the AK filled the church. One acolyte went down. The other acolytes were reacting, but they were too slow. Zombie Strike spread into their zones before the first acolyte thought to bring up his weapon. Jim took him down with the thunderous roar of his big Smith and Wesson. Sport killed another with a quick burst from his AK. The rest just dropped their weapons and screamed in Spanish. Mateo yelled back in the same language and motioned to the floor with his pistol. The three acolytes hit the floor so fast Quentin half-wondered if they fainted. The Steve and Sport secured each with heavy-duty zip ties.

"That was too easy," Mateo said. He grabbed the closest acolyte and let out a rapid burst of Spanish. The acolyte shook his head. Mateo punctuated his demand by placing the muzzle of his pistol to the acolyte’s forehead. The acolyte’s dark eyes went wide and pleading. Mateo repeated his demand. The acolyte let out a squeaky string of Spanish.

"The rest of them are in the basement," Mateo said, dropping the acolyte.

"That’s no good Matt," Stahl said looking at his PDA, "From what I’m seeing we have one entrance in the back of the church. That’s it. Even amateurs like this could take advantage of that kind of fatal funnel."

"That works for us just as much as it does for them," Mateo answered. "Sport, Jim go make sure nothing comes up from the basement." The two men nodded and rushed to the back of the church. Mateo turned back to Chief Stahl. "Do you know what you’re supposed to be looking for?"

"Not a clue," the chief said. Then, the former soldier cocked his head as if he was listening to something the rest of them couldn’t hear. He walked over to the altar. Stahl looked it over, almost as if he was searching for something. The rest of Zombie Strike traded confused looks. Suddenly, Stahl tossed the altar onto its side with a deafening crash. Using his knife, Stahl pried open a concealed door on the underside of the altar and pulled out a small cloth bag.

"What in God’s name are you doing?" Mateo yelled. Stahl opened the bag and pulled out what looked like a gollum’s medallion, but this one was gold instead of stone. As soon as Quentin’s eyes locked on the medallion, everything fell away.

Quentin was standing on a tropical beach. Maybe a hundred yards inland was a thick tree line that led into what could only be called jungle. Quentin hated the jungle since the first time Zombie Strike went out two years ago. Out at sea, Quentin could see what looked like a Spanish galleon anchored. What was going on?

A cacophony of shrieks and indescribable noises erupted from the jungle. Out of the tree line emerged a ragged party of Spanish conquistadors dragging a line of bound people. From their dress, they looked like Aztec peasants. Quentin screamed at them to stop and pulled his pistol. Reality quivered angrily and Quentin fell silent. The warning was evident. He was only supposed to watch. There were six Aztecs, four men and two women. Some of the Spanish were firing their muskets back at the tree line. The party scrambled into a pair of long boats. As the Spanish rowed back to their ship, a creature emerged from the jungle. Quentin had seen one of those before. Back in Panama when the team fought the Little Death. It was a vampire before it adapted to the world.

The world shifted back to the church. Quentin blinked as he realized he was on the cold tile floor. He stood up groggily. He still felt as if his body was readjusting from the vision back to reality. Quentin looked over to where Chief Stahl had been standing. His eyes went wide as he saw two men in long brown leather cloaks standing over them. Their ancient faces were impassive like weathered granite.

"You should have dealt with the others before revealing the medallion," the first one said. Well, sort of. It was like watching an old Godzilla movie. The man was clearly speaking in his own language, but Quentin was hearing English.

"Who are you?" Chief Stahl demanded, staggering to his feet. He had the medallion clenched in one hand and a pistol in the other. If the two men were threatened by the chief, they didn’t show it.

"We are the Guardians of the Truth," the first one said, "You have seen how we came to this part of the world. This is the only the first step you must take if you are to fulfill your role in the coming of the Flayed One. Unfortunately, you have activated the defenses your opponents put around this building. We will talk again if you survive." Before anyone could say anything, the two men faded like they were ghosts and sank into the floor.

"What the-" Mateo started. Seraph interrupted the thought.

"Is anyone listening to me?" she practically screamed into the radio. "There are five hundred zombies coming down the street! They’re making a straight line for you."

Zombie Strike Part 10 Chapter 100

Barcelona, Spain; 2 October 2011, 1500 hours local; Countdown: 2 months, 29 days

Quentin McLintock stifled a yawn. After nearly two years of almost constantly traveling, he was slightly amazed he still felt jetlag. He sipped at the cup of coffee in front of him. The caffeine wasn’t as good as actual rest, but it would do in a pinch. The team lost a lot of time getting to this beautiful city. The Truth managed something rulers had been trying to accomplish for centuries – they’d forged a united Europe. Granted, it was under a group of dictators that answered to a supreme dictator. If Johann Spiegler wasn’t an acolyte of the Truth, he was certainly in their pay. Just to prove the point, one of the first things the new European Alliance did was to outlaw Zombie Strike.

"Catalans," Mateo swore as he sat down next to Quentin. The team leader discretely passed a manila envelope to Chief Stahl. The chief cut it open and started passing out the contents. Mateo turned back to look out at the rest of the restaurant. The team wasn’t in the bad part of Barcelona, but they could see it from outside the door. Quentin looked at the photo in the fake passport. Not too bad. So, for this mission he was Quentin McCall, an American from Baltimore living in Italy.

"I’m sure they don’t understand you any better than you understand them," Jess said, picking up her own passport. She blanched as she looked inside. "Why did they use that picture? I look hideous."

"What’s the bloody problem?" Sport asked. He just glanced at his new ID before tucking it away. Jess looked over at Mateo. Her foster father just waved for her to answer. He was still too frustrated.

"You remember how hard it was to understand Americans when you first came over?" Jess asked. Sport nodded. He’d told that story plenty of times. "Well, the difference between the Spanish spoken here and the Spanish spoken in most of the Americas is more than just accent and a few different terms. Standard words are different. Needless to say, it can be a bit frustrating."

"Must be. Boss dude looks like he’s about to punch someone," The Steve said. "Should have sent Quentin. He’s the Zen dude."

"I don’t know Spanish," Quentin said. He turned back to Mateo. "Did we find out where we’re supposed to be going?"

"A church in the slums," Mateo answered. "I texted all of you the coordinates. What about weapons?" Each of them was armed only with pistols and knives. Quentin also picked up a metal pipe at a hardware store. That was fine for fending off muggers and run of the mill criminals. Against what they were expecting to deal with, Quentin wanted a bit more.

"The good news is we got all of those Chechens’ weapons when Mountain, Sport, and I went back to get Billy," Chief Stahl reported. Getting into Spain quickly and quietly forced the team to deal with less than nice people. They’d rode into Barcelona in a convoy of vans trucking in girls snatched from Eastern Europe and Southwest Asia to become prostitutes. Quentin wanted to smash the smarmy leader in the face the moment they met up in Sarajevo. The Steve calmed him down with promises the opportunity would come later. Apparently it had come when the smugglers had held onto Billy and demanded another 100,000 euros to release the pup.

"What’s the bad news?" Mateo asked.

"The commotion attracted the attention of those policemen in the funny hats," Stahl answered. "I don’t think we left anything that could be traced back to us, but we were rushing a bit. We got some worn AKs, a couple of pump shotguns, and a good rifle for Jess. Plenty of ammo for them plus a bunch of nine millimeter. I put all of the toys in the hidey-hole."

"Don’t worry, we covered your tracks," said an achingly familiar female voice. Quentin turned to the speaker and saw an exotically beautiful Mediterranean woman slipping next to their table.

"Seraph?" Quentin asked, breathlessly. Memories flooded back from an archeological dig back in Mexico nearly two years ago. The battle Quentin first encountered minions. The night he’d heard the most beautiful voice in the world telling him help was coming and everything would be alright. She gave him a dazzling smile as she sat down next to Mateo.

"It does a lady good to know you didn’t forget about me," Seraph answered coyly, her British accent giving the words an almost seductive lilt. Her face went into a professional mask as she turned to Mateo.

"My team covered yours after the incident with the smugglers," Seraph said. "We have a good reputation with the locals. As far as the police are concerned, the Chechens ran into a rival gang of Romanians. What can you expect out of Gypsies?" Seraph shrugged dramatically.

"Your team?" Mateo asked, eyeing the woman suspiciously.

"Sorry, I’m Seraph MacKenzie. I’m your liaison with M&W for this mission. My team is myself and a couple of the firm’s best investigators in this hemisphere. I’ve been tasked by the firm to assist you as much as we can. I will caution you that with the current regimes across the continent, that support may be limited."

"We noticed," Stahl said flatly. As much as Quentin hated how the team snuck into Barcelona, the chief loathed their smugglers even more. There was some history there. Quentin was kind of glad the chief and the others had been forced to hurry up. He didn’t want to think what Chief Stahl would have done if he had plenty of uninterrupted time with the smugglers.

"Did you manage to get us anything besides running interference with the police?" Mateo asked.

"One of my team is currently keeping your church under surveillance. There are maybe a dozen acolytes guarding the place along with a pair of minions. We don’t have a method to gauge how powerful they may be," Seraph said. "He’ll let us know if anything changes."

"Good, we’ll hit the church tonight," Mateo said. "In the meantime, everyone needs to get some rest. Sleep if you can. I want everyone back up by 2100 for brief and weapon load-out at the hotel. Ms. MacKenzie, I’d like you there as well. You know where we are?" Seraph nodded. "That’s it people. Follow your routes back to the hotel." Quentin hung back as the rest of his team got up from the table. Seraph must have sensed he wanted to talk to her because she stayed seated as well.

"I tried to find you after that fight," Quentin said, "No one would tell me where you were or how to get in contact with you." Seraph gave him that mesmerizing smile again.

"I know Quentin. Quite flattering, actually," she said, "If things were different, I might have been tempted."

"If things were different how?" Quentin asked cautiously. It was bad enough having a crush on a voice. Finding out the woman behind the voice looked like she did brought all of those long suppressed fantasies back.

"You’re a dear," Seraph said sweetly, patting Quentin on the arm, "I’m not married or involved if that’s what you were worried about. The problem is I’m a MacKenzie. As in MacKenzie and Winston. My family would have a fit if I dallied with someone so far below my station." Quentin’s fear flamed into annoyance.

"I see," Quentin said trying hard to keep his tone civil. With the exception of Sport, Quentin probably had the best grasp of the culture behind Seraph’s words. He’d spent years studying cultures were class distinctions were ironclad and unbreakable. It still hurt when it was pushed into his face.

"I’ll see you later," Seraph said, getting up from the table. Quentin waved and turned to wash away the ashes of his dreams away.

Zombie Strike Part 10 Chapter 99

Mumbai, India; 30 September 2011, 1500 hours local; Countdown: 3 months

Alan, the Truth’s strongest sorcerer, looked up as his leader walked into the apartment. Castle was still recovering from his injuries. It made the Truth’s leader a cranky man. Considering how many times Alan had been cut, shot, burned, and blown up in the service of the Truth, he wasn’t feeling all that sympathetic just because Castle got knocked out by the blast of one of Zombie Strike’s grenades. Alan rubbed the scar on his face and once again silently promised vengeance against that short Brit with the grenade launcher.

"Mikhail hasn’t returned?" Castle asked as he dropped into one of the over-stuffed chair’s in the apartment’s sitting room. An acolyte bustled over with Castle’s tea.

"No. Our operation in Belize ran into some opposition," Alan said, joining Castle in the sitting room.

"Zombie Strike?" Castle asked, snarling as he spoke the name. Alan noticed the venom in his leader’s voice. For the past couple of years, Castle just considered Zombie Strike an annoyance. Mateo Cortez, Zombie Strike’s field leader, figured heavily in the prophecies guiding the Truth, but other than that, Castle always dismissed the team. Not anymore.

"Surprisingly, an armed response team from that insurance firm," Alan answered. Castle grunted in response.

"Is there some reason we don’t have our people in the British government just close that firm down?" Alan asked.

"MacKenzie and Winston isn’t your normal insurance firm," Castle answered, "They don’t sell car insurance or anything else so petty. They insure things like large corporations, NGOs, governments, and other insurance firms. According to our cat’s-paws in the British government, M&W threatened to destroy the international economy if we try to shutter them."

"Worse than it is now?" Alan asked incredulously. Between the destruction of Earth’s satellite constellation and the instability caused from constant zombie outbreaks, the world economy was going through a depression at least as bad as the Great Depression.

"I believe them. The economy’s bad, but the foundations are there. M&W could tear things apart so bad we wouldn’t have anything to work with after the coming of the Flayed One." Castle drained his glass and looked at Alan. "Speaking of the coming, have you had any success with the Key?"

"No. I have my people going back through the prophecies that deal with the Key to see if we missed something." Castle frowned at Alan’s words, but he didn’t say anything. Alan felt the opening and took it. "I don’t think that artifact is the actual Key."

"What do you mean?" Castle asked, sitting up in surprise.

"It’s got some power, but it’s not as strong as I would expect from something like the Key. Not nearly enough," Alan said. "One of the things I’m doing is looking at what actually happened in Mexico when Mikhail retrieved it. Thank the Flayed One our soldiers were meticulous in their reports."

"If that isn’t the Key, then where is it?" Castle asked.

Skull Island, 30 September 2011; 1300 hours local; Countdown: 3 months

Quentin McLintock stood in front of the team shuffling his notes. He looked up at the team. They were such a strange group of survivors. All of them were scarred physically or emotionally or both. Still, these were his friends. His family. He wished he could give them better news. Quentin straightened his shoulders and tried to keep his fear from showing.

"Jess and I have been examining all of the material surrounding the prophecies we’ve harvested from our raids on the Truth’s strongholds. They pretty much wrote down anything one of their prophets said. I’m pretty sure the Truth hasn’t figured out all of what’s actually prophecy and what are the nonsensical ramblings of a madman. They were nice enough to leave some passages highlighted for us." There was a dark chuckle from the team.

"We found the date of Xipe Totec’s coming," Quentin announced, "It’s going to be a busy New Year’s Eve."

"How sure are you on this?" Chief Stahl asked.

"I’m very confidant. Several different prophets mention that the coming will happen on the turning before the Mayan calendar will reset. That happens December of next year. Two of the prophets mention that it will occur between the invaders’ years. I consulted with some experts and the consensus is that means the night of December 31st."

"Have you figured out what I’m supposed to do with all of this?" Mateo asked. Quentin looked over at his friend and leader. Quentin didn’t know the details, but Mateo hadn’t been himself since Robyn suddenly packed up and left a while back. Since then, Mateo was emotionally distant from the team and focused on two things: stopping the Truth and killing Giant.

"There’s mention of a Chooser, an Undecided, a Champion, a Betrayer, and a Key," Quentin said. "We know Chief Stahl is the Undecided. Giant told us that back in South Africa. I think the Key is what they were after Mexico City was destroyed, but the passages aren’t clear if the Key is an artifact or a person. I think the Champion is Giant, but I could be wrong."

"I can’t believe Mateo would be a Betrayer," Jess said, looking at her foster father. He didn’t say anything. Jess tried to comfort Mateo after Robyn left, but he was just as distant with her as with the rest of the team.

"Have you figured out where this coming is supposed to occur?" Stahl asked.

"Not really. There’s mention of a city of the dead or a city of death. It’s not exactly clear. The best I can tell you is that it’s on the North American continent."

"Way to narrow the field mate," Sport said sarcastically. Quentin frowned at the diminutive Brit. Of all of Zombie Strike, Sport was the one Quentin knew the least about and disliked the most. The man just ran too hot and cold. Sometimes he was the best team player, others it was like he hated everyone.

"Actually, there might be a way. Depending on how much you trust you put in these prophecies," Quentin replied. Mateo motioned for him to continue. "One of the passages is a long speech by a former conquistador who the Aztecs turned into a prophet."

"How’d they do that?" Jim asked.

"You don’t want to know," Jess answered, visibly shaking, "That was one thing I wish I could unread and purge from my mind."

"It’s pretty gruesome and only worked a couple of times," Quentin continued, "This one though talked about how the Undecided would find the place of the coming. He would return to the beginning of the word."

"Go back to the beginning of the word? What the hell does that mean?" asked Stahl.

"I was getting to that. From my studies of this sect of Xipe Totec worshippers, the words for word and truth are used interchangeably. To speak the word is to speak the truth sort of thing. We have to go back to the beginning of the Truth."

"Dude, does The Steve and everyone have to go back to that island with the temple?" The Steve asked. Quentin shuddered as memories of Zombie Strike’s first battle with the forces of Xipe Totec.

"No," answered Kenn Blanchard as he walked into the conference room. "It means we have to go back to where the Truth was formed. Where Castle discovered the first artifact and the prophecies that would guide him."

"You know where this is?" Mateo asked.

"After Quentin told me what he’d found, I had a little chat with M&W. After some discussion, they released everything for distribution." Mateo gave Kenn a hard stare.

"They’ve been holding information back from us?" Mateo asked, "Even now, they’ve been holding back information? You tell our superiors in M&W that if I find out something they held back got one of my people killed or injured, there will be a reckoning." Mateo’s voice was cold as dry ice as he spoke. Kenn just nodded.

"So, where exactly are we jetting off to?" Jim asked, trying to diffuse the sudden tension in the room.

"At first, Barcelona."

Zombie Strike Part 10 Chapter 98

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