Free The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion Book 2) by Rhiannon Frater Page B

Abscrags.”
    They were almost to the top of the stairs. Looking up, Torran forced his leaden feet to move. Maybe it was just the electroshock disc, exhaustion, or the hangover from his earlier adrenaline rush, but he just wanted to sit on the stairs and doze for a few minutes.
    “And here they are,” Rooney whispered.
    Bullets tore through the night, punching into the cement over their heads. Immediately, Rooney and Torran crouched, weapons raised.
    “They weren’t doing that before.” The vanguard almost sounded offended.
    “They don’t have someone to give them orders anymore. They may be falling back to old bad habits I taught them. Like shoot at the enemy.”
    “Hungry,” a voice he recognized shrieked.
    “Fuck,” Torran cursed.
    It was Goodwin.
    “Why are they saying that?” Rooney demanded.
    “They’re cannibals,” Torran replied.
    “Scrags bite to infect .”
    “These do more than that.”
    “Fuck! Could it get any more complicated?”
    “Probably, but don’t tempt fate, Vanguard.”
    “You know them, MacDonald. Talk to them,” Rooney insisted.
    Not sure what she expected to happen, Torran obeyed. “Goodwin, it’s me. Master Seeker MacDonald.”
    “Hungry!”
    Two voices.
    Jonas was with Goodwin.
    “Jonas, Goodwin, glad to see you’re okay.” Wincing at his words, he lifted his weapon higher. The spot at the top of the stairs was ominous. They could appear at any second and either he’d kill his former companions or be killed.
    “Hungry. So hungry.” Goodwin’s voice again.
    “Yeah? Me, too. I’d love a nice plate of potato salad.”
    Rooney edged up the stairs, grimacing in pain.
    “Hungry!” It wasn’t quite a word. More of a screech.
    Torran carefully climbed. Sweeping his gaze over the opening above his head, he feared them coming over the wall. Rooney touched his knee, and then pointed left. Her large, heavily fringed hazel eyes seemed particularly vivid in the gleam from her helmet readout. If she was scared, she wasn’t showing it. The wall that flanked the stairs was a mere three feet tall at the end of the opening. If he stood, his six-foot-two height would allow him to easily spot and fire at the remaining Abscrags. Of course, it would also put him in their sights.
    Wincing, Rooney moved past him toward the opening. She’d fire from low and around the base of the wall.
    “You know that place where we’d go get that great veggie sausage and potato salad? I hear they’re having a special tomorrow on fried okra.” Did his former squad members even understand what he was saying? They’d been able to take orders from the smarter Abscrags, but was it because they were the same breed?
    Rooney reached her position and signaled for him to stop. He nodded and prepared to take the lives of yet more of his squad.
    A single gunshot startled both of them. Rooney’s eyes widened slightly.
    “Hungry,” Goodwin screamed. “Hungry!”
    Rooney lifted her fingers and counted down.
    As soon as she reached zero, Torran shot upward and aimed at where the voice of his former comrade had come from. His finger stilled on the trigger. The light from his weapon illuminated Goodwin. Her helmet was gone and her short red hair clung to her round cheeks. The young woman leaned over Jonas, tearing at his neck with her fingers. Ripping flesh from his body, she stuffed it into her mouth, rocking back and forth in anguish.
    “What the fuck?” Lindsey was clearly disturbed, but she hadn’t seen Cormier’s body.
    Torran darted around Lindsey and onto the old sidewalk. Goodwin continued to weep and feast on her bloody meal. Her weapon dangled at her side.
    “You want me to do this, don’t you?” Torran called, aiming at her.
    Goodwin didn’t answer, but stuffed more strips of meat into her crimson mouth. She hadn’t wanted to be a Scrag. She’d vowed to never let them get her. Yet, here she was: not only dead and transformed, but worse than an ordinary Scrag. Bright red eyes turned toward