Up From The Deep Vaughn Jackson (book club suggestions TXT) 📖

blood gurgling at the back of her throat. She coughed, spraying her face red, before going limp. Her head lolled to the side.

“Idiot,” Brannigan roared. He kicked at the nearest dead soldier and shouted at Raymond again. “You fucking idiot!” He stormed over to the man’s body and fell to his knees. “You could have just pulled the trigger and you’d still be alive.” No tears ran down his face as he hung his head by the side of the dead man.

Arnett made sure that Jet was situated, then walked over to Brannigan and knelt down beside him. “It wasn’t who he was,” Arnett said. “I mean, I hadn’t known the guy for that long but, as far as cops go, he really took the justice thing seriously, and that is rare these days.”

“And it got him killed.”

“He knew that his life was on the line the moment he took the badge. And I think he would have rather died than take an innocent life, regardless of the circumstances.” Arnett rolled the inspector over and wiped the sewage from his face. “He would have rather died than dishonor the oath he swore to uphold. He was a good man.”

“He certainly was.” Brannigan took a deep breath. “Can you help Jet? I’ll carry his body.”

The journey back was slow and silent, the two men struggling with the added weight of their incapacitated allies. Brannigan used the GPS to find them a path that circumvented the bridgeless drainage pit. After what felt like hours, they made it out of the sewer via a path that didn’t require any climbing.

Brannigan pressed the button on his earpiece. “General MacPherson, can you get a fix on my location and send a rescue squad? We have one dead, and one in need of medical attention. And we lost Chaplin in one of the drains…if we can spare a search team…” He didn’t even listen for a reply, instead he lay Raymond’s body out on the ground and lay out on his back, exhausted. “It’ll probably take a good thirty minutes for them to get here,” he said to Arnett. “Keep watch, I need to rest.”

Arnett settled Jet against a nearby wall, checked that his rifle was still functioning, and perched himself on a nearby guard wall. “I got you.”

Brannigan gave a lazy mock salute before crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes.

#

This was taking longer than Greenwood had thought it would. An hour had passed, and while Inkanyamba’s thrashing had deteriorated into low moans and sporadic twitching, she was still very much alive. The creature had tried a few more times to generate a storm with her electrical abilities only to be thwarted by a combination of her own injuries and the grounding effect of the copper wiring.

Greenwood tried not to let her mind wander to Raymond and his mission. She’d given them the go ahead and hadn’t heard any reports since. Radio silence was necessary for their safety down in that serpent’s lair, so she couldn’t check in with them. She forced the worry from her mind. He’s fine, she thought.

“Lieutenant,” the pilot said, “we just got pinged by the general.”

“Patch her through.”

The general’s voice burst through the headset. Her tone was crisp and urgent. “Lieutenant Greenwood, evacuate the area around Inkanyamba immediately.”

“General? What’s the situation?”

“Corden got his go ahead from the president. Another nuclear warhead is inbound as we speak. A larger payload launched from Colorado. I repeat, evacuate the area immediately.”

“Shit.” Greenwood slammed her hand on the helicopter console and received a nasty look from the pilot. “Take us out of here. Gunner, Skids, we’ve gotta pull out.”

“What about Tungsten and the ground crew?” Skids’ voice was an earnest panic.

“Fuck.”

“General MacPherson, how much time do we have?”

“Minutes, at best.”

Greenwood hurled the headset to the floor of the helicopter and barked at the pilot. “How many people can this thing hold?”

“Thirty, safely,” he said.

Greenwood did the math in her head. Fifty soldiers. Thirty-five engineers. She paused. What about the Tempest soldiers? How many of them are there?

“Am I taking us down, Lieutenant?”

“We’re not leaving them behind,” she said, stabilizing herself as the helicopter began its descent. “Gunner, Skids, get your squads out of here. Mine’s going down for a rescue.”

“You sure about that?” Gunner asked. “Might need more people storage.”

“I’m not risking civvies. Get out of here.”

The helicopter bounced violently as it set down on the cracked pavement in the midst of the cities crumbling remains. Greenwood leapt out before the craft fully settled on the ground.

“Everyone, leave everything where it is and get on board one of these helicopters.” The roar of the propellers drowned out her voice. The pilot called out to her through the headset. She turned just as he tossed her a megaphone. Greenwood repeated her statement and added, “There is a W-80 nuclear warhead due to strike any minute now. Move your asses!”

Tungsten climbed into the helicopter followed by a team of engineers and several soldiers. Spaces were filling up quickly.

She turned to the pilot. “Anything on the radar?” she asked.

“Nothing yet.”

Greenwood sighed with relief. If they detected the ICBM on the radar and weren’t already out of the blast radius, their quick and fiery deaths would be unavoidable. She gazed out over the swarm of people clamoring to get aboard one of the four helicopters and noticed that Kurtis’ soldiers maintained posted positions by the equipment detaining Inkanyamba. She raised the megaphone back to her mouth.

“Soldiers formally associated with Tempest,” she said, “in a gesture of good faith you are welcome aboard our helicopters. Regardless of your actions, you do not deserve a nuclear death.”

A few of the soldiers turned their glowing red goggles towards her, before immediately returning their attention to whatever task occupied their attention. A lone soldier waded his way through the crowd to approach her.

“I am Caine,” he said, his voice digitally altered by the mask, crackled like a cross between the Terminator and Robocop. “I speak for these men, on