After The Fall (Book 3): The Covenant Read online

  And then he glanced over his shoulder. He wasn’t alone. Someone was watching him.

  “Hello?” Donald said.

  The mist swelled and then contracted, forming a single black eye. It watched him and his tiny collection of memories. It never blinked and just stared.

  5.

  DONALD WOKE up. He lay on his side in bed. He was cautious when he moved his head. It always hurt after he woke up. He was relieved to find the stabbing pain behind his eyes and temples was gone. He sat up and wriggled his toes, stretched his arms. He felt great.

  He pulled the sheet aside and swung his legs over the side. Put his feet on the floor and felt the coldness of the metal work up his feet and legs. He put a hand to his stomach, on the bandage affixed there, his most serious injury. It didn’t hurt when he touched it. He leaned over to scratch his stomach muscles and found that didn’t hurt either.

  He braced his body weight with his arms and shifted it to his legs. He didn’t want to fall flat on his face again. His legs took the weight and he slowly gave it to his legs. He was standing!

  He took one step forward, then another, and another. Small, awkward steps, but he was moving. He turned and walked back and felt the same joy a child must have felt when it took its very first steps. He returned to the bed and sat down again, regaining his breath. He got up and did it again. And again. He didn’t stop until he was walking normally. Then, he performed some jump squats. He got down on the floor and carried out situps and press-ups. He had full control of his body once more.

  The good doctor lay on the short sofa sucking on an IV drip. He’d been working day and night to get Donald strong enough to leave this place.

  Donald felt he was ready. Ready to fight. Ready to do what needed to be done.

  Raaw.

  The sound came from outside the door. Hadn’t Dr. Beck mentioned something about Rages in the facility? They were still there, stumbling around. One glance at the bent metal shutters over the door and windows told Donald everything he needed to know. There had to be quite a few out there to do that kind of damage.

  He could vaguely recall a dull thudding sound when he was dreaming, a baseline beat to the memories. It must have been them, beating on the door in their attempt to break it down.

  He turned to the doctor and prodded him gently awake.

  “Dr. Beck?” he said. “Doctor?”

  Dr. Beck grunted in his sleep, then gradually opened his eyes. He yawned a yawn that took up his whole face. He smacked his lips and shut his eyes before they suddenly bolted open. He sat up and looked at Donald with shock.

  “Sit down,” Dr. Beck said.

  “I don’t need to,” Donald said. “I feel fine—”

  Dr. Beck pulled him down beside him. He put a hand to his face and pulled the skin down on his cheek to check his pupils. Then he checked his hands and pulled at the bandage on his stomach. Two large circle scars on Donald’s abdomen. He couldn’t care less so long as everything inside worked.

  “How are you feeling?” Dr. Beck said.

  “Great,” Donald said. “Never better.”

  “That’ll be the steroids,” Dr. Beck said. “Don’t overexert yourself or you’ll soon feel more tired than you’ve ever felt.”

  “I won’t, Doc,” Donald said. “I have to thank you. I never would have pulled through this without you.”

  The doctor’s smile was sad and a little distant for some reason. Donald supposed there was a lot to be sad about these days.

  “It’s the least I could do,” Dr. Beck said.

  “Tell me what happened here,” Donald said.

  “I told you already,” Dr. Beck said.

  “In more detail,” Donald said. “Maybe there’s something we missed.”

  “Missed?” Dr. Beck said. “Missed what? The Rages attacked. That’s what they do.”

  “But you said they turned and attacked the City, despite the charges Donny set off,” Donald said.

  “That’s correct, yes,” Dr. Beck said. “We never found out what caused them to do that.”

  “It might be important, don’t you think?” Donald said. “In case it happens again.”

  It was still difficult for Donald to accept everything Dr. Beck told him was true and not the plot of a fiction book.

  “First thing’s first,” Dr. Beck said. “We need to get out of here.”

  “How?” Donald said. “There are Rages outside the door.”

  “You’re going to have to cut through them,” Dr. Beck said.

  “Cut through them?” Donald said. “We don’t even know how many there are!”

  “Yes we do,” Dr. Beck said, picking up his tablet. “Get dressed. We’re about to conduct a test to see if your body really is up to scratch.”

  Great. He’d just woken up with full use of his faculties and now the doctor wanted him to risk his life testing it. Hoorah.

  6.

  “THERE ARE six of them outside this room,” Dr. Beck said. “Currently, two on the far left, approximately five yards away. Three on the right, three yards away. And one about one yard in front of the door.”

  “One, two, three, got it,” Donald said. “Let me look at their condition.”

  Dr. Beck angled the screen so he could see the figures mulling around in their various sections. They were in good shape—for Rages. Donald looked to identify missing limbs or unusual objects sticking out of their bodies. It was amazing the things these beasts accidentally picked up. They appeared to be clean.

  Donald held the busted leg he’d wrested from the bed. A nasty bludgeoning weapon. It would be slow but effective at taking out these creatures. He wore his original clothes. They were dirty, torn, and covered in blood spatters but they were better than wearing the hospital gown. In one hand he held the dining tray. It would serve as his shield.

  “Open it,” Donald said.

  “You’re ready?” Dr. Beck said.

  Donald nodded. Dr. Beck pressed the button, and the metal shutters on the private hospital room began to furl back up. The ones on the door, most bent out of shape, only got two thirds of the way up before they jammed, unable to fit through the top slit. The creatures had already begun to turn in the direction of the noise. Donald wouldn’t wait for them to rush him.

  He ducked under the slats. As he rose back up to his full intimidating height, he swung the bed leg, connecting with the first Rage’s chin, dislocating it. The head sailed free from its shoulders to the opposite wall like he’d hit a home run.

  The five other Rages descended on him at once. They would not all reach him at the same time. The three on the left fought one another, bunched up as they were, tugging and fighting to get ahead. It was what Donald had expected them to do. He was already turning to face the two Rages on his right.

  Donald hefted the bed leg and, with the blunt end, slammed it into the first Rage’s face like a freight train. The creature wasn’t dead yet but had been knocked to the ground. It shook its head in startled confusion. Donald had time to knock the second Rage back with his shield, forcing it into the corner, before following up with a skull-crushing blow with the blunt end of the leg.

  Man, it feels good to be kicking ass again. There was little time to celebrate.

  Donald spun around. The three Rages from the other side of the corridor were already converging on him. Donald pushed at them, his shield taking the brunt of the force. He charged them, sending them back. They stretched their necks to snap at him but couldn’t reach.

  Donald roared and threw out his arm, pushing the three back. The second Rage he’d knocked to the floor was now beginning to finds its feet. Donald delivered a swift kick to its head with his steel-capped boot. The head hit the ceiling, the wall, then landed on the floor. He dispatched the final three Rages one by one with the blunt end of his chosen tool.

  The walls were streaked with old blood and the mutilated corpses still twitched, some of the body parts still moving. Donald’s shoulder rose and fell with gasping breaths.
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  “Good work,” Dr. Beck said.

  It was the most impressive thing he’d ever seen. No way in a million years he could do the same. He didn’t have the speed, the dexterity, the aggression. Hunting these things was a real skill. He was glad Donald was on his side.

  “Next room?” Dr. Beck said.

  “Hell yes,” Donald said.

  7.

  DONALD WIPED a dirty hand across his forehead and leaned against the wall. He’d cleared half a dozen rooms and they had still hardly made a dent in the number of rooms and corridors there were in the City.

  “What are the kids doing in this other City?” Donald said, bending down to wipe his bludgeon on a fallen Rage’s rags.

  “They went there to help fire the great cannon,” Dr. Beck said.

  “This cannon must be pretty big,” Donald said.

  “Massive,” Dr. Beck said. “Words cannot even express its sheer size.”

  “And it’s there to destroy an alien ship in our orbit?” Donald said, shaking his head. “You couldn’t make this stuff up.”

  Each room he cleared, he added to his personal arsenal of fighting tools. A hammer, multiple knives, and a larger tray to use as a shield. It was amazing the things people had on them before they became a Rage. They had been fighting to escape, to survive. That was why they were always armed, he supposed.

  “One more corridor and we’ll be at the Weapon Research Unit,” Dr. Beck said. “Then we can get properly suited up.”

  “I thought we were heading for the basement?” Donald said. “Get to the basement, then hop on a, what was it called, a train?”

  “The hyperloop,” Dr. Beck said. “The Weapon Research Unit is on the way. Properly armed, we can kill a lot more of these things a lot easier. I’ll help out, firing from the sidelines.”

  “What do I need more sophisticated weapons for?” Donald said, holding up his snapped-off bed leg. “This baby is the ultimate Rage killer.”

  “We have better bludgeons,” Dr. Beck said.

  “All right,” Donald said, sighing. “What does the next corridor look like?”

  “Four,” Dr. Beck said. “At the opposite end of the corridor.”

  “At the other end?” Donald said. “It’s not even a challenge. Let’s get this show on the road. Open it.”

  The slats on the door began to shift, unshuttering from the bottom. It was a slow, noisy process. Not exactly the ideal combination for a Rage hunt. The Rages shrieked, hearing the sound and began running toward him at full pelt. Two of them were slower, limping on badly-disfigured limbs and clubbed feet.

  Donald swung the leg around lazily, knocking the creatures to the floor, then bludgeoned them mercilessly with the blunt end. Next came the slower Rages. These ones were even easier to deal with.

  Destroying Rages could, at times, be boring work. It entailed doing the same thing over and over. Monotonous and dull. It was actually a good thing. The people who ended up dead were always the showoffs. They tried to get fancy, changing a winning system. The ones who stayed alive did what was necessary and moved on. Nothing fancy. Just the basics.

  The game then became how many he could kill, and how fast. That ensured he focused on doing the simplest of movements as fast as possible without needing to get caught up in the more impressive-looking but ultimately riskier moves.

  Their bodies were twitching, attempting to move without the aid of their brains—what little brains they still had the use of. Dr. Beck sailed past and moved to the door at the end. He swiped his card across the keypad. A green light flashed and the door opened.

  Another ultra-modern room with tables and computers along the walls. Broken glass shards on the floor. Donald could see where they’d come from. Further up, on either wall, were unbroken glass boxes with weapons inside.

  “Why have some of the boxes been smashed open already?” Donald said, lifting his cudgel in preparation for an impending attack. “I thought you said this room was clear.”

  “It is,” Dr. Beck said. “Your kids and I came here before to get suited up.”

  “My kids were here?” Donald said.

  “Yes,” Dr. Beck said, selecting his own weapons. “I brought them here before taking them to the hyperloop.”

  Donald looked at the glass shards and imagined his kids smashing them to get at the weapons inside. Like Christmas. His kids were strong, tough, the way Mountain Peak bred them. They would fight, he knew, fight till there was no breath left in their bodies. The thought made him sad.

  He turned and walked through the long room. Ancient weapons he knew well hung in suspended animation in their glass prisons. The people who’d resided at the City had had no use for weapons. Probably didn’t even know how to swing one effectively, he bet. That was why they’d gotten run over by the Rages so easily. If they’d had some basic training they could have held the Rages back. Theory and knowledge only got you so far.

  They’d had a real need for people like Donald, people with training and fewer scruples against causing harm and violence to others. But they had no soldiers here. It was a tragic mistake. That wouldn’t happen in the future, not if Donald was a part of this City and had any say over how it was operated and maintained.

  He selected a tall axe and threw the glass case on the floor. He checked its weight and balance, rolling it over his hands in a circle and thrusting first with the axe blade, then the pointed end. It was a wonderful weapon. He couldn’t wait to use it. He also selected a bow and quiver.

  There was another door. Were there more weapons in there?

  He pushed the door open. The sight took his breath away. This one displayed modern weapons. Guns, grenade launchers, assault rifles. What he wouldn’t have given to have access to this room during the numerous Reaver and Rage attacks over the years. They would never have suffered a defeat.

  He was a little hesitant about heading into the next room. After all, if what he’d seen in the previous two rooms were any indication, the next room would be even more powerful than the last. He expected missiles, nukes, and drones, but instead, the level of technology had taken a quantum leap forward. So far forward, in fact, that many of the weapons hadn’t even been built yet, only designed in blueprint form on the walls. These weapons looked nothing like anything he had ever seen before. They looked alien, out of this world.

  “These are the weapons we were working on,” Dr. Beck said. “Backward engineered from Bug technology that crash landed here decades ago.”

  “How powerful are these things?” Donald said.

  “You can try one out if you like,” Dr. Beck said.

  “No, I mean the Bugs,” Donald said. “Do we have any chance at all of defeating them? Honestly?”

  “Yes, of course,” Dr. Beck said. “But not with our own primitive technology. We had to backward engineer theirs to give us even a small chance of victory. Even this tech is old by their standards. There’s no telling how advanced they might be now.”

  It was only then that Donald understood the odds they were up against.

  “These Bug creatures hold the winning cards,” Donald said. “Don’t they?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Beck said. “I’m afraid so. All but one. Their level of advanced technology has, we believe, given them a huge sense of superiority. For obvious reasons. We are cockroaches compared to them. Or, we were.”

  “I don’t see how that’s a losing card,” Donald said. “They are more advanced than us. They can kick our ass with ease.”

  “That’s what they think,” Dr. Beck said. “They don’t expect us to attack them. Especially not now. They think they have us beat.”

  “They do have us beat,” Donald said. “They sent a Bug after Lucy. That means they know we’re up to something.”

  “Not necessarily,” Dr. Beck said. “They might have seen her escape the City when they sent the Rages in to attack. They didn’t want anyone to survive. They might have thought she was a regular girl.”

  Donald picked his favourite autom
atic weapon: the AK-47. Simple, powerful, reliable. He added an ammo belt to his setup. He didn’t believe in carrying too many weapons. Too many weapons slowed you down. Most of the time, a good hand-to-hand weapon was all you needed. You simply had to ensure you didn’t get yourself into a position where you needed to use loud, brash weapons.

  “Dr. Beck?” Donald said.

  “Yes, Donald?” Dr. Beck said.

  “If I don’t get through this alive, will you tell my kids something for me?” Donald said.

  “You can tell them yourself,” Dr. Beck said.

  “I mean, in case I don’t make it,” Donald said.

  “You can still tell them yourself,” Dr. Beck said.

  “I just said—” Donald said, beginning to get irritated.

  “No,” Dr. Beck said. “I mean, use a camera to record your message. When they get back to the City, they can watch it and rewatch it to their heart’s content. But I’m sure you’ll get through this. You’re big and strong. You’ve already lived through something that would kill most men.”

  “It almost killed me too,” Donald said, putting a hand to his stomach. “I would like to record those messages for my kids.”

  “Come to this console,” Dr. Beck said. “I’ll set it up. When you’re ready, hit the record button. I’ll leave you alone so you’re more comfortable.”

  “Thanks,” Donald said.

  He took a seat in front of the computer. It was easy to forget modern technology when you were so used to living hand to mouth with only the most rudimentary systems and tools available. Dr. Beck explained the controls and left the room.

  Donald didn’t press the record button yet. He needed to formulate what he wanted to say. There was too much and it became a jumble in his mind. He’d wing it, he decided.

  He hit the record button and spoke into the camera. He hoped they would never see it. If he couldn’t say these words to them in person, it meant he was already dead.