Chapter Sixty-Three - Rod of God

“There’s no kill like overkill!”

--Motto of the Family’s unofficial Orbital Strike Squadron

***

I spun around the corridor and took in everything. It only took a split second to figure out what was going on.

There was a room at the far end of the corridor. Unadorned walls, thick, made of cement. The shelter. Before that were some doors, heavy metal things. Not vault doors, but the sort I’d expect to see in a well-secured warehouse or at the front of someone paranoid’s place.

They’d built a barricade in the middle of the corridor, but the people manning it weren’t there.

For good reason too.

Three Model Threes, a single Model Four.

The latter looked injured, some of its tentacles shorn off, and it looked to be bleeding.

I raised my Trench Maker up, pointing it at the back of the nearest alien, the big Model Four. My railgun shifted, and my plasma caster turned to aim farther forward.

My finger twitched over the trigger just as my railgun bucked. A spray of superheated plasma shot out ahead with a snake-like hiss.

The four aliens went down in an instant. The one hit by the rail thumping to the ground, a coin-sized hole smoking in its flank and the front of its chest bust apart, the Model Four slumped to the ground, the holes I’d poked into it with my Trench Maker the size of both my fists together, and the other two were partially aflame around the places where my plasma gun had peppered them with fire.

Targets Eliminated!

Reward... 85 Points

I stuffed my Trench Maker into its holster and let that get to work reloading it while I stepped around the bodies slumped across the corridor.

The guys running away kept running, but they were looking back, and soon their run turned from a desperate scramble to a confused jog. They stopped. “Are you a samurai?” One of them asked.

“Yup,” I said. “You guys okay?”

There were some shared looks. “We thought,” one began.

“We’re okay,” another said, louder. He moved towards me, a gun in hand, but not pointed anywhere near me, and by the looks of it, the magazine was missing from it. It was only a hunting rifle though, all wood with a scope. These guys were armed, but not with anything fancy.

I glanced around, taking in six or so more dead Antithesis. They’d been holding them off, then.

“Did you see Bill?” the one walking over asked. “And Gaétan and John?”

“Who’s Bill?” I asked.

“He-- they were guarding the front door. Please, he’s my son.”

The guy looked old enough to be a dad. Maybe in his late fifties or so. “I... fuck, there were two people by the doors, dead, sorry.”

He reeled back, confusion and anger, then hope. “Just two?”

“Fuck,” I said. “Okay, everyone, get in the bunker, keep the doors closed until I come back. I’ll knock. We need to get into cover soon, there’s going to be a blast nearby. We can worry about other shit later, alright?”

I didn’t give them much time to protest, spinning on my heel to run back down the corridor.

It was only a chance, but there might be some guy alive up there, and if he was, he’d be caught in the blast.

WARNING​

Yeet-Stick Incoming!

You’ve got a minute to get under cover. The Rods of God are dropping.

-ZZ-Zeus​

“What?” I asked at the prompt that appeared before me.

That was sent out to all communication devices within twenty kilometers of the hive’s predicted location.

I started running faster, the corridors blurring past until I was back in the lobby. Two bodies still, no other aliens. I was relying on my shoulder-mounted guns, mostly. I looked around, didn’t see anyone else, then ducked outside.

A blood trail gave it away. One I’d missed earlier, heading off to the side and into the back of one of the cars pushed up against the side of the building.

There was a dead Model Three there, slumped in the shadows next to the car.

I walked over to the vehicle and peeked inside. There was someone on the backseat. Breathing hard, a hand wrapped around their leg where an inexpert tourniquet had been tied.

He had a revolver in his other hand.

I knocked on the window, then ducked to the side when he brought the gun up.

“Hey! Hey, chill,” I said. “I’m human. You need help.” It wasn’t a question, the guy was bleeding out all over the seat. It didn’t look too bad. He might even survive all on his own with his makeshift bandage, but not if some alien showed up. I had the points to spare for some healing shit anyway.

He dropped his gun and I reached over to open the door when I noticed the shadows around me receding. The world took on a reddish tint.

I spun.

A beam of light, no, multiple beams of light were piercing through the air, connecting the sky to the ground like massive pillars. They had to be dozens of meters wide to be seen from as far away as I was.

They cut through the clouds, leaving the overcast sky glowing red. It only took a moment for me to realize that they were moving, all the beams converging together to form bigger pillars, maybe some two dozen in all.

“Oh, shit,” I said as they finally came together.

The beams flashed, then disappeared.

I tried to turn, but the ground was no longer underfoot.

My ears went mute a moment before a sound rocked past me. It felt like someone had dropped a fifty-five gallon drum filled with cowbells onto the back of my head.

I was still stumbling, trying to catch my balance when the wind hit.

My jacket was whipped forwards, and my vision, already confused by everything waving around, went black.

Not blindness, I realised; dust. A cloud of dust and dirt and ash so thick that it turned day to night.

I felt tiny particles pelt against my back, against my helmet and legs. None hard enough to hurt, or at least not hard enough to break through my armour.

What the hell had that been?

I rolled into a ball, the wind whipping past pushing me forwards. I think I ended up under the car with the guy in it. That didn’t provide much cover, but it was somewhere to hide.

Then the earth shook again.

Another strike? Had they launched them sequentially?

That minute was not nearly enough warning!

I was going to find that Zeus asshole and tear him a new one.

Are you well?

“Fuck!” I screamed.

I will take that as a no. Your undersuit’s integrity is still at 100%. Your vitals are fine considering the situation. You will survive, just hold tight and wait. It’s just a little orbital strike.

Myalis was being comforting and sarcastic, which actually helped a little. I didn’t believe in those breathing exercises they taught at the orphanage much, but it didn’t hurt to try one now. The rumbling continued, and my ears unmuted themselves, allowing me to take in the torrential roar of wind around me. There were other sounds mixed in. Things crumbling, a dozen car alarms going off.

I was on the edge of Black Bear nearest the blast. That meant we were just about the hardest hit. Still, I could only imagine the town being a crater after this.

The wind settled. It shifted back, rushing in the opposite direction, though with only a fraction of the force.

It’s over.

I rolled over, then started to crawl out from under the car. I wasn’t even sure how I’d fit in so easily, it was a tough squeeze to get out.

Standing up, I looked around, but couldn’t see anything, that was, until I wiped at my helmet and cleared it of the dust and dirt caked on.

The wind was settling down, and with it the crap in the air.

The clouds, I noticed, were nearly all gone. They had to be, to make way for the multiple mushrooms dominating the sky right next to me.

They were bigger than any skyscraper I’d ever seen, massive bulbous things, dark grey and growing.

“Shit,” I said.

I paused and looked around. I expected cars to be flipped and all, but it wasn’t quite that bad.

A clod of dirt the size of my fist thumped to the ground a dozen meters away. Maybe it wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t far from it.

I... didn’t quite know what to do.

That man still needs assistance.

“Right,” I said. That first. Then I could check on the civilians in the shelter. After that I’d figure out my next move. I had to contact Gomorrah and maybe Cause Player.

I had the impression that whatever that had been created more work for me, not less.

***