Chapter 46 Matriarch
Rosie took point in the dark, rocky landscape. John stomped along in his power armour, light machine gun at the ready. Matt brought up the rear. It didn’t take them long to reach the military school.
“That’s it.” John exited his armour as they stood overlooking the large old world building. Two wings off a central lobby. Once lush lawns now arid dirt. Ornate stone now worn and chipped.
“There’s a problem.” Rosie scanned the building. “It’s hardened, designed to withstand bombing. The roof especially. We can’t risk an explosion with a bird that close.”
“On the top floor there’s a load of filing cabinets, too heavy to move. We tie them to the rafters and blow the floor.” John took the rope from the pack carried on the armour.
“Maelstrom, Tornado.” Rosie called Brandon back at the bluff. “On site, be advised, drop will be danger close. How copy?”
“Solid copy. We have six drums mixed, got enough packing foam to do six more. Time to target, two zero minutes.” Brandon paused. “You have the ball. How copy?” He put her in command.
“Solid copy.” Rosie made her first decision. “Can you cover us?” She asked Matt, knowing he wanted to go in.
“Yes sir.” Matt smiled and took the fifty cal rifle. “You’re going to need this.” He pulled the stinking, fleshy orb from his pocket. “Saliva gland. You might want to do that thing where you switch off your nose.”
Rosie and John suited up. The Shadow suits in the dark made them practically invisible. Matt squeezed and squished the gland, covering them in slime.
Matt headed to the rocky outcrop opposite the school. John sent the armour the long way round, keeping the light machine gun for himself. Rosie checked the charges.
“Cyclone, in position.” Matt checked in a few minutes later. “Approach is clear.” John and Rosie followed the path to the entrance. The wooden doors ajar, marked by fang and claw.
“Don’t forget we’re going into town at the weekend.” Rosie spoke casually to John, trying to break the tension. “Get our costumes for the wedding.”
“I don’t think they’re called costumes, Rosie.” John didn’t sound certain. The moment passed, and he took point.
They slipped through the partially open door. Inside holes had been ripped into the walls, like wounds in the once proud building. Claw marks dotted the floor and walls. The main wooden staircase had been torn down. It appeared to have been chewed up and spat back out. Pulped wood set in resin hard saliva, reshaped to hold clutches of large eggs. Rosie stopped counting after the first dozen.
John swept right, stepping around gnawed mutant bones. He led her down the hall to a half striped kitchen. A staircase at the back of the room got them to the top floor.
Things upstairs looked untouched, save for the occasional massive tear in the wall of floor. John found the room straight away, right above the open lobby. Filing cabinets around the edge and a double row row of eight in the middle. Rosie felt the dip in the floor and thought it a good sign.
John looped the rope and began lashing the cabinets together. He pulled the rope so tight the metal buckled. Rosie took the other end of the rope and climbed up, through the suspended ceiling to the rafters. She tied a series of running knots around three of them. Each placed to put strain on the weakest points.
As Rosie stretched to tie the rope off, she found herself looking through a hole to the lobby below. Something moved. At first Rosie thought it a shadow, cast long across the floor. Then she saw it snake across the tiles. Rosie couldn’t stop herself, she climbed out to get a better view.
Longer than the Alpha with slender limbs. A distended pot belly laden with eggs. Horns that curved down, protection for attacks from the side. She watched the Matriarch tend to one clutch of eggs after another. Pushing them closer together for warmth. Slathering drool over the eggs to clean them. It brought a moment of unexpected pity to Rosie.
She couldn’t help but admire the apex predator. It’s lethal form, it’s efficient movements. It’s ability to strike fear in its prey. As she watched one of the eggs began to rattle. She zoomed in to get a better view. Tiny claws punctured the egg from within, followed by a fanged snout.
The Matriarch slithered over on all fours, observing but not helping. The hatchling tore at the egg, breaking free in a puddle of goo. Pale skin, cloudy eyes, no bigger than a house cat. The Matriarch extended an arm, scooping up the hatchling with a gentle motion. It deposited the newborn through a hole in the wall. Any thoughts of pity vanished as Rosie wondered how many hatchlings were in that room.
Rosie lowered herself back into the room and set the charges. One at each corner, linked by detcord. “Tornado, Whirlwind. Package is on site.” Charlie gave her notice over the comm. Rosie gave John a nod, and they went back down the narrow stairs.
Rosie peeked into the kitchen. She saw a stray hatchling squeeze through a crack, sniffing at the saliva left in their footprints. Rosie pressed her back to the wall. She drew her suppressed sidearm, opting for the best bad option. She could hear the creature clacking and mewing. Rosie stepped into the room and fired twice, killing the hatchling instantly. However the hatchling’s cries had not gone unanswered.
Something blocked the moonlight from the windows. Rosie felt John pull her back with a hand on her shoulder. Crawling on its belly, a near adult female slithered through the double doors. It poked at the dead hatchling with its snout. “Cyclone, Tornado. East wing, ground floor.” Rosie trusted Matt’s aim. She pulled the last flare out and sparked it.
Bright red light erupted from the flare. Rosie drove forward into the kitchen. The female Deathclaw shrieked, thrashing and banging to escape the light. Then John fired. The room filled with smoke and noise, pushing the female out and into the corridor. Heavy thuds and cracks sounded as fifty calibre rounds struck the female in the leg. It writhed in pain, giving Matt a kill shot. The side of the female’s head burst open and it collapsed into a heap.
The flare began to flicker out. In the flashes Rosie saw the Matriarch. Ember like eyes burning with fury. It crawled on all fours, still taking up the entire corridor. Rosie stood her ground, tossing a flashbang.
The bright flash and ear popping sound didn’t affect Rosie or John. The Matriarch withdrew, its eyes still fixed on Rosie. She unclipped the belt holding four more flashbangs and brandished it like a weapon. She stepped forward, the Matriarch slithered back. Rosie felt a rush of pure exhilaration, a surge of power she knew felt too good.
Rosie stepped forward again. The Matriarch did not move. She raised the belt up, gesturing not at the beast, but the room full of shrieking hatchlings. The Matriarch hissed with menace. Rosie took another step, and another. Forcing the beast from the corridor and into the lobby. The Matriarch unfurled itself, standing upright in the open lobby. It roared with a primal terror. Rosie snapped her fingers.
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In the room above, well placed charges turned the wooden floor into splinters in less than a second. The heavy filing cabinets fell. The slack from the rope became taught, swinging the cabinets like a pendulum. It slammed into the side of the Matriarch, knocking it over. The motion of the swing brought an audible creaking and groan from the rafters, before they gave.
Wood beams, metal, paper and thick roof slates all rained down in a deafening cacophony. Rosie thought the Matriarch dead. Then it screeched, unleashing chaos. “On me!” John yelled, breaking into a run.
Juveniles swarmed into the corridor. John let rip a devastating burst of machine gun fire, shredding the younger Deathclaws. A full grown male clambered over the debris, skittering on all fours down the corridor. “Reloading!” John shouted from the corner as his gun ran dry.
Rosie cooked another flashbang, timing the detonation to explode in the male’s face. It reared up, fifty calibre rounds thumped through the broken windows putting it down.
The sniper cover stopped as they reached the opposite corridor. Ahead of them, a claw swiped through the ceiling. The pointed tips at head height. Rosie shoved John to the side and span clear. John fired at the arm, causing it to retract sharply.
Rosie could see the lobby and the way out ahead, until the Matriarch lunged into the corridor. Behind them, the ceiling gave way. An adult male dropped through, blocking their retreat. Rosie didn’t know what to do.
“Hold.” John growled. “Hold.” She slid next to him. The Matriarch drew closer. It moved again, then yelped and slipped off balance. “Go!” John bolted, she followed. In the lobby John’s armour, under his remote control, unleashed a savage beating to the Matriarch's soft flank. John and Rosie sprinted round the outer edge of the room.
The armour fought with reckless rage. Swinging the warhammer into the belly of the beast, spike first. The Matriarch turned on the armour. The armour hurled the warhammer across the room then locked it’s mechanical grip onto a horn, punching with the other fist. The Matriarch wailed and thrashed, its eye burst.
John scooped up his warhammer without stopping. He turned the momentum into a swing, shattering the wooden doors open. “Drop it!” Rosie screamed over the comm as they made it out.
Sniper rounds zipped over them. High above, Janey walked along the suspended container. She pulled the door bolt, and her weight sent the horizontal drums of fuel tumbling. Drum after drum fell through the hole in the roof. They bounced and split, splattering the thickened gel like fuel everywhere. The final drum rolled out. Janey waited for half a second, then shot a thin beam and blew the drum in mid air.
The dark night became bright as day as fuel became fire in an instant. Charlie banked hard, escaping the towering lash of flame. The roaring fire drowned out the screeching, spreading through the whole building.
Sixty seconds later they were in the air.
Dawn broke by the time they touched down, smoke billowing on the horizon. Tiny bits of white packing foam blew all over. It reminded Rosie of a trinket Brandon had on his desk. “Matthew, light.” Brandon struck a playful tone. “Well?”
“Got the Alpha. Got the Matriarch. Got the nest.” Rosie made an effort to remain casual, fooling no one. “What’s for breakfast?” That got a laugh from Brandon
John and Rosie sat with Matt and Charlie by the fire. Brandon served up steaming bowls of lurk meat stew, slow boiled over the fire. They sat and ate, enjoying the rich stew on a brisk morning. “Did you see any sign of greenskin activity?” Brandon poked at the fire, his mind stuck on the problem.
“Looked like they’d been feeding on them for a while.” Rosie answered.
“That’d explain the rapid growth Boss.” Matt added.
“Either way, you saved lives today.” Brandon stood, dusting off his hands. “We’ll rest for the day, get these back to the lighthouse after dark.” He pounded on the container twice.
“Don’t get too comfy,” Charlie pushed John’s foot off his knee, keeping him from nodding off. “I count nine containers. Means you and me got another turn on the world’s most dangerous claw machine.”
“I’ll do it.” Rosie saw John looked tired. She could barely sit still.
Rosie let her legs dangle from the cabin as Charlie flew over the ship. “That’s it, the yellow one.” Rosie spotted the container she wanted. The top of the highest stack, leaning far enough to be over the water. Charlie brought the bird in close. Rosie leapt down to the container with a safety line.
She found her balance on the angled container. Rosie padded to the corners one by one, snapping the cargo straps onto the lift points. The faint hint of a wobble near the far corner made her smile. With all the straps connected, Charlie lowered the winch.
Rosie stood in the breeze, all four straps hooked up. She stared back at the crooked pillar of white smoke. The trees without leaves stretching out. The morning sun on the river turning blue to shimmering orange. A deep breath brought a moment of calm. And then, in the water, something caught her eye.
A serpentine wake gave way as the Matriarch leapt from the water. Half its body charred, one eye missing, the other burning with fury. “Climb! Climb! Climb!” Rosie screamed, the only one who saw the danger.
Powerful claws and talons tore into metal as it scaled the ship. Rosie lunged for the winch release, knowing she had to cut the bird free. The Matriarch's weight pulled the at container stack, knocking Rosie off her feet.
She forced herself into the dreamlike state, already falling too fast to get back up. Rosie drew her pistol and fired. She clipped the two rear cargo straps, the tension already tearing them. She rolled onto her back, shooting one more strap. The claw that gave the creature its name loomed over her, glinting in the sun. Rosie fired at the last strap, seeing the first round nick it. Then she went into freefall.
Rosie fired as fast as she could, falling towards a mouth of charred and broken fangs. The gun clicked and Rosie discarded it. The bullets struck exposed bone and burnt flesh. The creature recoiled, losing its footing and pulling the container free. Rosie kept her arms in and feet together. She fell to the side of the creature, less than a foot from its slit pupil eye.
Time snapped back as she hit the water. Rosie banged off a submerged container and kicked, desperate to get clear. She felt a shockwave through the water and looked back. The Matriarch turned and saw her in the murk. It shimmied to propel itself, and didn’t see the container falling from above.
The metal box sank, crushing the Matriarch and pinning it down. Trashing and clouds of screech filled bubbles soon faded. Rosie surfaced, waving to the low flying Vertibird above. She swam with the current, crawling out on to the opposite bank. She lay on her back, staring at the endless blue. Shivering, but not from the cold.
They touched down back at camp. No one said anything. John squeezed her hand as she sat, his face pale. “You did great.” Charlie poured them both a coffee and sat next to her. “Absolutely crushed it.” Charlie sipped her coffee, straight faced.
“Let’s not go overboard.” John quipped, making Charlie laugh and spray coffee over herself.
“What was in the container?” Brandon asked out of curiosity.
“I’m not sure.” Rosie teased. “Something called a seventy six Corvega roadster.” She knew exactly what it was. Brandon’s face dropped. “Or was that in the other one?”
“No.” Brandon got to his feet. “Don’t tell me…” He almost ran like a child to the one Rosie told them not to open. She watched as he levered the door open. She heard a tearing sound, followed by raucous laughter.
“Close your eyes and put out your hand.” Brandon told her. She did and he placed something small in it. Rosie opened her eyes to see a three inch toy car, and Brandon deeply amused. “You can keep that one, there’s a few thousand more at least.” Brandon sat back in his chair, admiring the detail of the toy car. “I suppose two white whales in one day was pushing it, right Matthew?”
“Boss?” Matt didn’t understand.
“You killed a Deathclaw.” Brandon clarified.
“I killed three Deathclaws. Big ones.” Matt held up three fingers, pausing a second longer than he needed to. “But that don’t count.” Brandon glared at Matt.
“So let me get this straight.” Brandon sighed. “You, personally, put down three of those things. While undertaking an operation that wiped out a breeding pair, in their nest. And that isn’t enough for you?!”
“Yeah, but I used a rifle. Gotta put one down with a spear or bow.” Matt smiled. “Don’t worry Boss. I learnt a lot, I’ll be ready next time.”