Chapter 48: Montecristo's

“Hey Major, you want a cigar?”

James blinked and came to life, pushing off the side of the hummer to look up at the gunner behind the mounted M2. The car was positioned in the center of the street, the tip of an inverted triangle whose base points were two more Ma Deuces, each manned by Serenity and Becca.

The sun was setting. The wind was bitterly cold, sweeping down the avenue to knife right through James’s jacket. Shadows lengthened. A few blocks over, incongruously, salsa music was blaring from a radio.

“Shit, I never say no to a cigar.”

The soldier clipped the tip off, placed the cigar between his teeth, then cupped his lighter to the end and inhaled several times, getting it going. Plucking it free, he leaned down from his turret to hand it to James.

“It’s Cuban. Got it from a friend of mine. He used to run contraband out of the Keys, had a little Cessna.”

“Contraband?” asked James, examining the official seal around the cigar: Montecristo, Habana.

“Yeah, probably was just straight up dope, but I didn’t ask.” The soldier cut off the tip of another cigar and repeated the procedure.

James inhaled deeply. Oily, rich smoke filled his lungs, deliciously scented, the tip of the cigar burning cherry red then immediately ashing to white. The sight reminded him of Nemesis 2’s burning in his aura.

He drew the cigar out, considered it, then slowly exhaled.

Blue smoke filled the air with fine curlicues, then disappeared.

“This is real good,” he said. “You always carry Montecristo’s into battle?”

The soldier exhaled his own plume. “Yeah. I had this dream once. I get shot in the gut, am lying in a foxhole somewhere, and I realize my time’s come. So I pull out a cigar and just smoke it while watching the sky till I die. The dream felt real peaceful.”

James frowned. “Why you got two, then?”

“One’s for when I think I’m dying, the second was to celebrate in case I somehow ended up surviving.”

Again James paused. “Then why smoke them now? Why give me your second?”

The soldier grinned down at him. “Didn’t you get the memo? We’re already dead, Major. This may look like our world, but we’re in hell. It’s just taking its time revealing itself to us.”

James stared.

Despite his manic smile, the man was stone cold serious.

“So might as well enjoy these beauties now.” The soldier inhaled again from the cigar. “Little moments of grace are gonna be few and far between from here on out, you know?”

“Yeah,” said James softly, turning away to sight back up the avenue. The soldier’s brittle cheer had chilled him more than the wind ever could, and he focused on just smoking the cigar.

Laughter rang out. Joanna and Olaf stood on the other side of the hummer, ready to drop Shields when the enemy appeared. They’d hit it off, and the sight of the instant chemistry warmed James’s heart. Would it be a problem in the long run, or a source of strength? How did the military handle romance inside units?

James allowed his gaze to drift to Serenity. She was fiddling with her Ma Deuce, doing something to the chamber. He tried to recall the woman he’d met in the ER. Her running mascara, the stale smell of cigarette smoke, how gaunt she’d been, strung out. Now she looked vibrant, healthy, athletic. Her Adidas tracksuit stretched taut over all the right curves, and he knew… well, did he? Would she welcome an advance?

James sucked on his cigar, held the smoke in his chest. Tried to imagine kissing Serenity, pulling her into an embrace, the feel of her skin against his own as their hands worked at each other’s belts.

No.

Which made him feel sad.

He felt like he should.

But he’d not been genuinely attracted to another person since Laney. It’s as if that part of him had just… died.

Sure there’d been some drunken hook-ups in the beginning, wretched affairs that ended in self-loathing and horrific benders. He’d done it more to punish himself than out of any true desire.

But now? What was Serenity to him?

A friend?

No, she was more than that. Then what?

He just didn’t know.

The radio crackled.

“All units, this is Star Boy. We’ve got reports that the Third Wave has begun. Nemesis 2’s have been sighted emerging from buildings across town. Get ready.”

“Here we go,” called James, putting his raw emotions away. “Serenity, Becca, look sharp.”

“Locked and loaded,” called Becca, lying back as if about to do crunches, her boots wedged between the tripod legs, her arms extending down the length of her body to grip the shovel handles between her knees, allowing her to sight down the length of the huge barrel and aim.

“I mean, yeah, I’m ready too.” Serenity scooted into place, raised the huge machine gun, and sighted down the avenue.

“Blessers, on my mark,” called James, his voice carrying in the frigid air. “Shields, at the ready.”

Silence fell across the block. The whole city seemed to be holding its breath. How long had it been since he’d heard a siren? James tried to remember. In the beginning the sound had been ubiquitous, but now?

Eerie silence.

The nape of his neck prickled, and he turned to stare up at the demon symbol. Was it his imagination, or was the Monitor watching him?

“Watch this,” he whispered, and turned back to stare down the avenue.

The blocks around the dead zone had all been abandoned, and a mandatory evacuation order blared over loudspeakers for hours earlier that afternoon, which meant there was no chance of a Nemesis 2 emerging from a window close by. Instead, they’d have to approach from a distance.

The first one did just that, emerging from a side street four blocks down, its pale mask ghostly in the dusk as it moved across the sidewalk onto the street and beneath a red streetlight.

“Bless Becca,” called James, the plan being to offset her lack of Deadeye.

Both Ma Deuces fired up with Smite, but Serenity got the shot off first, single fire mode, the sound brutal and percussive. A single cartridge larger than James’s forefinger flew into the air, and the Nemesis 2’s head exploded in a mass of black goo and shattered mask.

“Yeah!” shouted Denzel as the others cheered. “Now that’s what I call shooting!”

James didn’t fail to notice the slight frown that marred Becca’s otherwise implacable visage.

Another Nemesis 2 stepped into view, and Becca squeezed off a shot, but she missed. A second burning shot blew right through the Nemesis 2’s chest, blasting it apart.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” called Bjørn. “Good shooting, Tex.”

A pause followed, almost a minute, and each second crawled by with terrible slowness. James kept forgetting he still held the cigar between his fingers, only to raise it and take another puff, the smoke grounding him, making him feel truly present.

A block over the sound of M2’s firing picked up, followed by exultant shouting.

Were they all fools for celebrating so quickly?

Nothing happened, and then a handful of Nemesis 2’s came around the corner, two stories up, walking along the wall like praying mantises.

Both women leaned over and back, bringing their huge muzzles to bear, and opened fire.

Single shots rang out, brutal and loud: BAM BAM BAM BAM BAMBAMBAM.

The Nemesis 2’s fell off the wall, though one clearly leaped away on purpose; even as its three fellows crashed to the ground, it landed neatly atop a car and then crouched to leap again.

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Serenity swiveled her gun down and fired.

BAM.

The burning bullet caused its head to explode, and instead of flinging itself forth it just toppled over.

“Oh man, this is better than sex,” laughed Serenity, then pretended to consider. “With one person, at any rate.”

The soldiers laughed. One was placed beside each lady, ready to help reload, while the rest of the squad had their M4’s and SAWs at the ready beside the hummer.

“Stay focused,” called James. “We haven’t even started yet.”

More gunfire, some distant, some just a block over. Staccato, broken up, but slowly picking up its pace.

A wave of Nemesis 2’s came into view, rushing down the center of the avenue like a herd of demonic centaurs, their legs blurring, masks little more than pale blurs. Ten? Fifteen?

Didn’t matter.

Becca and Serenity both switched to limited rates of fire, five round bursts with built in pauses, so that both guns went BRRRP! BRRRRRRRP!

The herd withered and fell apart.

“I’m never going back to my Tavor,” called out Serenity. “I’m going to raise my Strength till I can just carry this bitch around. I’m in love.”

Nemesis 2’s came around the corners in a new wave, racing along the building facades, swarming out of the side streets.

Both women got to work.

It was awe inspiring.

The Ma Deuce’s made the SAW’s look like children’s toys. The 50 caliber bullets punched clear through the demons to tear up the walls, leaving trails of finger thick holes across the stone, shattering windows, or punching fist-sized holes out of sterner walls.

The Nemesis 2’s fell like grass before a blade, the Smite-enhanced shots destroying them utterly.

“Guess this demon apocalypse isn’t so bad after all,” said Bjørn.

Jason stood to one side, hands on hips, his grin going from ear to ear. “Anybody else feel like the demons mistimed this one? They should have tried us three hundred years ago.”

“Here they come,” called Serenity, her voice all business now, and the avenue flooded with demons.

Both Ma Deuces erupted.

James realized he was chomping on the cigar so hard he’d nearly bit clean through it. He forced himself to relax and inhaled more sweet smoke.

The scene before him was starting to resemble that moment in Aliens 2 when the automated turrets were blasting away the encroaching xenomorphs. It was exhilarating and terrifying both.

But the Ma Deuces did what they had to do.

“Madre de dios,” he heard Yadriel say from just behind him, the Puerto Rican kid’s voice tinged with something akin to religious awe.

The roar of the big guns came from everywhere, filling the heavens with their righteous fury.

The soldiers were ready, for the guns seemed to run out of ammo every thirty seconds. They’d unhitch the ammo can attached to their side, toss it aside, grab a new one, affix it to place, throw open the lid, grab the belt, feed the first 50 cal into the breech, and then Serenity or Becca would pump the side lever thing three times and get to work.

All too soon the pile of cartridges piled up, forming a gleaming mound under the gun, then slowly began to overflow onto the street around them.

The Nemesis 2’s were enraged, had no thought for their safety, but like their gremlin cousins came leaping and hissing toward certain death, their bodies blasting apart as the burning bullets tore through them and killed the demons coming up behind as well. Limbs blasted off, heads exploded, chests shattered, black ichor spraying in great gouts as the bullets absolutely wrecked them.

“Fuck yeah!” shouted the soldier up in the hummer’s gun turret, seeming to forget for a moment his own nihilism.

But the Nemesis 2’s were just getting started. How many were supposed to hit them? Thousands?

Sure looked like it.

The guns chewed up the walls, caused cars to slump, tires blowing out, windows exploding, the sidewalk erupted, and the mounds of demons grew. New Nemesis 2’s leaped over the bodies, only for the women to take turns leaning back and aiming into the sky, blasting them apart mid-air.

Where would the bullets land? James wondered. How far would they fly over the city before dropping to ground?

Both Ma Deuces fell silent as the soldiers got to reloading, and suddenly it was on, the Nemeses rushing forward unimpeded, leaping and covering ground with terrifying speed.

James snatched up his axe, cigar butt chomped shoved in the corner of his mouth. “Shields!”

Three wavering barriers appeared in the center of the avenue, each a yard wide, maybe two tall. The leading edge of the Nemeses crashed into them, but they only worked for a moment; the ones behind leaped right over and kept coming.

That’s when the hummer’s Ma Deuce lit up with gray fire and opened up.

The gunner went full auto, spraying the oncoming crowd with Smite-enhanced bullets, and for some reason James was shocked; the dude was Level 5?

The advance withered, and then both Becca and Serenity came back online and joined in on the fun.

The advance died, demons splattering apart, the huge bullets punching through them with ease, and quickly the whole block was cleared, then the second.

“Holy shit,” said the gunner as he ceased firing. “I just leveled twice.”

“Becca, Serenity! Ease up for a second!” James looked up at the gunner. “Have at it.”

The man grinned and opened fire again.

“Shields, block the flanks, funnel ‘em into the center,” called James.

The huge gun roared, the demons died, and when the wave finally died away, the gunner looked stunned.

He must have killed a hundred Nemesis 2’s right there. How much experience was that for a Level 7?

“Where you at?” James called up. “What level?”

“Supplicant 2. What the hell do I spend all these points on?”

“Same here,” said one of the reloaders, wide eyed, and the other guy nodded.

Slowly it became apparent that the whole squad was united, re-organized along Blue Light’s principles, and every man had just burst up in the ranks.

But those hundred Nemeses wouldn’t have done much for James. At Supplicant 9, it was taking many hundreds, maybe a thousand demons for him to level.

Becca and Serenity reduced their rate of fire to bursts, then single shots as they picked off the stragglers.

James chomped on his cigar, thinking.

Even as the others cheered and clapped each other on the shoulders, James frowned out over the killing field. What was the right play here? Level a few elite ka-tets as high as they’d go, or spread the wealth and bring a bunch of other squads to the mid-ranks?

He had to talk to Star Boy.

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