Juggernaut

Huang swung himself into the cab. He reached beneath the dash and popped the hood.

Lucy inspected the engine. She peeled off a glove and slapped dust from the motor. She checked filters. She checked injection lines. She checked starter cable.

‘Can you hot-wire this thing?’ shouted Huang.

‘Watch me,’ said Lucy.

She leant into the engine bay. She connected the coil at the back of the V12 engine to the positive terminal of the battery.

The dash lit up.

‘Hey. Looking good.’

She reached beneath the battery into the fender well and tripped the starter solenoid.

Huang tore the cowling from the steering column. He spliced ignition cable.

Engine revved. The windshield wipers thrashed backwards and forwards, splashing sand. A single intact headlamp flickered and glowed steady.

‘Sweet job.’

Lucy slammed the hood, and climbed in the cab. Huang let her take the wheel.

‘And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we do that.’

The truck was sunk in sand. Amanda and Huang chocked the wheels with trunk lids from nearby sedans.

‘Okay. Let’s get her rolling.’

Lucy revved the engine. She pumped the throttle, tried to rock the truck clear of deep ruts. The wheels span. Shredded tyre rubber whipped and tore.

Huang hung out the window and checked progress. He shouted encouragement.

‘That’s it. Keep going. Almost there.’

‘Feels like I’m digging deeper.’

‘Just keep going. An inch more, and you’ve got it.’

Huang jumped from the cab. He joined Amanda and Toon at the back of the truck. They pushed. They sweated. They strained. The armoured truck lurched free. They caught a faceful of grit.

A deep groan as the plated underside of the truck ground rock.

Lucy’s voice over the radio:

‘How’s it looking?’

‘You’re doing okay.’

The truck pulled out of the convoy. It nudged the wreck of a Nissan aside. It lurched towards the citadel gate towers at a walking pace. Half a mile of lunar terrain. The engine laboured and revved. Toon and Amanda kicked rocks out the vehicle’s path.

Huang turned back towards the convoy. His body armour and assault rifle were draped over the hood of an Impala.

A body sat in the driver’s seat. A charred skeleton, fingers welded to wheel plastic. No hair. Empty sockets. Lips burnt away, giving the corpse a mirthless smile.

Huang turned his back on the carbonised corpse. He reclipped his belt. He clipped the holster strap round his thigh.

Behind him, the driver of the sedan began to move. The eyeless, grinning head slowly turned. Crisped skin cracked and flaked. Charred, skeletal hands flexed and tore from the steering wheel. The creature began to haul itself from the vehicle.

Huang rebuckled his armour. The rustle and rip of Velcro straps masked the grit-crunch of skeletal feet dragging through sand.

He slung his rifle. He unscrewed the cap of his canteen and prepared to swig.

Skittering stones. He swung round.

A tumorous figure, the colour of rot and dust. Something that used to be a man. Knotted metallic tendrils woven through flesh.

‘Holy fucking Christ.’

The creature tensed, as if reacting to the sound of his voice. It lunged. Huang dropped his canteen, raised his rifle and fired full auto. The cadaverous figure was lifted from its feet, belly ripped open. The impact of high-velocity rounds threw it across a Cadillac hood. It fell in the dirt and lay still.

Huang crouched over the dead thing. Smoking gut wounds. A skeletal face, empty sockets, tight skin pulled back across the bones.

Lucy’s voice:

‘What’s going on? Who’s shooting?’

He hit the pressel switch on his webbing.

‘Better get back here, boss. Something you need to see.’

The creature jerked to life. Rotted fingers seized Huang’s shoulder. The broken creature gripped the collar of his body armour, dragged him down and sank teeth into his neck. Skin tore, blood bubbled and dripped. Huang screamed and tried to pull himself free.

He drew his Glock, pressed the weapon to the creature’s stomach and pumped the trigger. Smoke. Muzzle flame. He emptied a full clip. The desiccated figure convulsed as bullets tore through its torso.

Huang tossed the gun. He pushed the creature to arm’s length with his left hand. He unhooked a frag grenade with his right. He twisted the pin loose with his teeth. The safety lever flipped.

He punched the creature in the gut, driving the grenade wrist-deep into its belly. He heaved the rotted figure away with his feet, and rolled clear.

The creature staggered upright, flap of glistening muscle clenched between its teeth. Stretched out arms, like it was trying to find Huang by touch.

Huang covered his head.

Detonation.

He lay, curled foetal, pelted with grit, stones, and scraps of burning flesh.

The Barricade

Huang sat in the rear doorway of an armoured personnel carrier. He leant against the doorframe and rested his head against metal. He held a rag to his neck to staunch the flow of blood.

Lucy, Toon and Amanda crouched in front of him.

‘Give yourself a morphine shot,’ said Toon.

‘No.’

‘You’re fucked up.’

‘Let me rest a while.’