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Twenty-Eight

The Plant

L eaning against my bike, I use the sniper rifle to check out the plant. It’s all like Lochlan described. The lights tower into the sky, wrapped around the giant, circular, ancient creation. The building in front of it is made of brick with high, tall windows, and railings and walkways surround it.

At the front, lots of men are either patrolling the chain link fence or sleeping on overturned cars and ripped out busses.

String lights illuminate their base, with two big double doors behind them.

There is a fire roaring, which is easy to spot from here.

They aren’t worried about giving their position away, which makes me respect their numbers more.

They are unafraid of an attack, even asking for it.

Cocky bastards, it will be their downfall.

But the farther around the plant, the darker it gets, with a nearly pitch-black, sunken in underground parking garage behind it. Only a fence stands in our way between that and the entrance. That’s where we go in. Putting the sniper rifle down, I look back at my men.

“You know what to do. Get into position, no one breaches until I do. You know the signal.” I pass the sniper back over and look at Lochlan. “You are with me. You know the layout better than anyone, so you can point out sentries and access points.”

He nods, and I turn back to the plant rising from the sands like a beacon.

It’s time we clean up The Wastes, starting with these bastards.

When everyone is ready to go, we move silently.

No one is talking now, we all know what to do.

We stay low, moving quickly over the sand as we circle around the plant out of view of the lights.

I hear some growls and chattering yips of ferals, and make sure to stay on high alert.

Lochlan said they come through here sometimes, they might even be in the dark garage.

They liked to hide there and pounce on their prey.

They would also be drawn to the noise and lights of the plant, but we have to get through them to get into the plant. Easy enough, right?

When the rolling sand hills turn into a flat section of old, broken concrete leading to the fence surrounding the garage, I still and hold up my hand, watching and waiting just to make sure.

When I spot nothing or no one, I rush across, covering the distance easily.

Thorn deftly rips back a hole in the fence, and we slip through.

The concrete turns more solid under our feet, still cracked with holes in places, as it tilts down into the dark garage.

Crouching at the top of the entrance, I cock my head and let out a low whistle, trying to attract anything that lingers down there.

After all, it’s easier to kill them up here with the light and room to fight.

When nothing emerges, I sigh and grab one of my swords anyway.

Something is waiting down there in the dark.

I can feel it. The tension, the eyes watching me, anticipating.

“You stay quiet,” I murmur to everyone behind me.

“Even if you are being eaten, no screams. It will draw more and alert those inside the plant, and then we will be surrounded and outnumbered. Understood?” I snap.

When everyone murmurs their assent, I stand and crack my neck from side to side, swinging my sword.

“Then here we go. Eyes on every corner, lights on, we are in for a fight down there. If it’s ferals, move away, their bite means death, so stay out of their reach and kill them from a distance if you can. ”

I hear weapons being pulled and readied, and when it goes silent again, I start down the ramp.

Torches flicker on behind me, shining into the dark, and lighting my way only just. It barely touches the walls that rise on either side of us, and when we reach the bottom of the ramp, it doesn’t reach half of the parking garage.

Licking my lips and keeping my breathing even, I step into the garage.

I kick a rock and it rolls into the dark, interrupting the silence.

When nothing jumps out, I look around, following the lights circling our location, illuminating the wrecked and abandoned cars and the graffiti on the floor and ground. The skeletal remains and burn marks.

There are even old skeletons hanging from the ceiling in warning. Lovely, their interior decor is quite inspired. I love a good skull decoration.

We wander farther into the garage. Lochlan stays by my side, steering us towards the door he knows is back here.

Until, suddenly, we hear a crash. I look over to see a scav falling over what looks like an old barrel.

The sound reverberates, filling the air as it rolls to a stop and smashes into a car.

I wince, tightening my hand on my sword as growls echo around us.

We put our backs together, staring into the dark as the sound of growls and the snapping of jaws gets louder. “Get ready!” I hiss. There is no point in staying too quiet, they know we are here.

A light catches on a blur of a creature dashing around cars, and I widen my stance, ready to go. Another light catches on it, and Drax fires. The yelp is loud as he hits his target. He aims and fires again, taking out as many as he can before they get to us.

“Keep firing!” I order, even as one of them leaps at me from the dark—mouth open wide, fangs ready to snap and injure, drool and saliva dripping from his mauled lips.

Those dark, soulless eyes meet mine. I swing out effortlessly, slicing through its throat.

It falls to my feet, and blood runs across my boots as I hear the others fighting their own ferals.

Grunts and gasps are the only noises that fill the air around us.

We are staying quiet, even now, as we fight for our lives.

I hear a pained groan and know someone has been injured, but they don’t protest or scream, and we keep the ferals back, slicing and hacking.

Our circle moves apart slightly as we face them, creating more room to manoeuvre.

I lose track of them as they fly at me from the dark, some leaping, some skidding, and some prowling.

I hack, slice, and cut. Blood runs down my sword and hands, and across my boots and legs.

I refuse to think, I simply let my body take over.

One manages to slice its fangs across my arm, and I hiss. It enrages me, and I spin and slice faster until no more come from the dark. Standing there panting, sword held at the ready, I keep my eyes on the shadows.

Someone comes to my side, looking at my arm, but I don’t look away. “I’m fine,” I tell them. “Let’s keep moving. Any dead?”

“Nope, but one of the bastards bit off my fingers,” someone hisses.

“Bandage it and stop whining,” I snap. “Lochlan, lead the way. Dray, up front.”

I stay at the back as we move across the garage, my eyes on the shadows.

I keep my sword ready to protect us in case they attack again.

I spot at least one standing on a roof of a car, its head lowered and mouth open in a snarl as it watches us, but it doesn’t attack, probably realising we will kill it.

Others surround it, probably the alpha of the pack. I keep my eyes on it as I walk backwards, trusting my people to get us out of here. “Door,” someone murmurs.

“Anything behind it?” I ask.

“No, it leads into an entrance and a staircase, shouldn’t be anyone there,” Lochlan replies .

“Then get fucking moving. They aren’t attacking right now, but I have a feeling that’s going to change.”

I hear the creak of a door, and cool air blows in behind me as we start backing into the entrance. The alpha leaps from the roof and prowls towards me, his pack following. Fuck.

“Quicker,” I hiss.

I’m just moving through the door when they leap. Maxen yanks me through all the way as Thorn slams the door shut, pressing his shoulder against it as we hear them hit the metal with a howl. “Well, fuck,” I mutter, looking back at them. “Wasn’t that fun?”

It’s bright in here, and I have to let my eyes adjust. The power must be on, since the strip lights shine above us. The space is small, a simple rectangle leading to stairs going up with more lights above. Written on the wall in dripping red is ‘Gates to Hell’ with an arrow pointing up.

“That’s blood, isn’t it?” Drax sighs. “Why do they always use blood? That’s so creepy.”

I wink over at him as I start up the stairs. “Pussy.”

“I’ll give you pussy, sweet cheeks,” he mutters.

The stairs creak under our weight, but they don’t collapse, which is good, considering how long they have been here and what they have probably withstood.

At the top of the stairs is a barricade—wood pieces held together with giant spikes pointing down.

It’s probably to stop the ferals. I don’t spot a gap in it, so I step back, run at it, leap over, and land on the other side with a thump. I look back with a grin. “This way.”

“If I could, I would marry her again,” I hear Dray mutter.

“Get in line,” Thorn jokes.

Lochlan sidles up to my side as I head down the only corridor to the left.

There is more writing and warnings on the wall, as well as arrow and bullet holes.

The hallway starts to fill with doors, all made of wood.

Some are missing, and some are half broken or wedged shut, but we have to check those that can open just in case someone is inside.

We can’t have them coming up behind us. I take the first one, kicking it open and rushing in, but it looks like an old storeroom.

It’s filled with overturned metal filing cupboards, and old ruined papers are spilled everywhere.

The next one is a cleaning cupboard with a half nudie pic on the wall. Drax whistles at it, making me smack him. The next three are wedged shut. Maxen takes the first, and I watch him clear it, but he comes out stern-faced. “Anything?”

“A body, female, tied to the wall… Looks like she was eaten by fucking ferals,” he snarls .