Earth Arise (Oblivion #8) - Joshua James Page 0,1

and bodies right under them. Someone, or a group of someone’s, had come into this hospital and started shooting. With the seemingly random placement of bodies, it wasn’t done execution-style, but haphazardly. And according to the shell casings Sydal had found, military-grade weapons had been used.

When Sydal reached the end of the hall, he peeked around the corner to make sure no one was there. All he saw were dead hospital staff. A couple were still behind their desks. This death, this killing, he figured it must’ve come as a surprise. One poor bastard, a janitor by the look of it, still had his mop in his hand. His own blood mixed with the dirty mop water on the floor.

“HUD, give me the lunar news feed,” whispered Sydal as he looked around for a downed security guard. Hospitals had security guards. And security guards were usually armed. He’d feel a lot better if he had a weapon.

To Sydal’s surprise, there was no feed. There was only static. He couldn’t remember a time that that was the case. Even when there were the AIC guerrilla attacks a few years earlier, the feeds had stayed on.

“HUD, track Matthew Sydal. HUD ID #34576890.”

Sydal didn’t want to use his tracker. It ran through his department, and anyone watching would know he was active. He’d never imagined a world where he couldn’t trust his fellow cops, but right now, he didn’t trust anyone.

After a moment of accessing and approval, it brought up a search window. After a minute, it had tracked his son’s HUD implants.

“Shit…that’s not, not ideal.”

According to the tracker, Sydal’s son was smack-dab in the middle of the lunar UEF base.

Sydal took a moment to catch his breath. He took inventory of his situation. Without knowing what was going on outside the hospital, he had to assume it was just as bad as on the inside. He was unarmed; he needed a gun, a dead security guard. He needed something to drink, which shouldn’t have been that big of a problem. There had to be water, soft drinks, juices, anything he could think of somewhere in this facility. He needed something to deal with the pain, and the pounding headache making him nauseous. Once ready, he’d tackle the seemingly insurmountable task of saving his son.

If he was still alive. If he was still Matthew.

Sydal found a security guard just outside the employee break room. He, too, looked like he’d been taken unaware. The guard had a pistol with one extra magazine. Sydal pocketed both. Then he raided the cabinets and fridge in the break room, trying to ignore the dead bodies sitting at the tables. One poor doctor had been shot from behind as he was at the vending machine, his innards sprayed on the glass.

Fed, with a bag full of snacks and water bottles, Sydal was ready for the last step before leaving the hospital. Not being in the medical profession, it took him a little while to find where they stored the drugs, the good stuff. It took him even longer to figure out which to take when he did find it. But if there was any time to take a gamble, this was it.

Sydal made his way down to the hospital lobby. He wasn’t prepared for the cruelty, the results of which were all over the bottom floor. Doctors, nurses, guests, and patients were stacked up in piles.

There were no flies in the moon domes, but there were stray imported pets. Dogs, cats, and the ever-popular Dats—exotically bioengineered dog-cat hybrids, feasted on the free flesh seemingly offered up to them by some unknown benefactor.

Sydal raised his newly acquired pistol and fired a shot into the ceiling. It was impulsive and dangerous, likely to draw attention, but he was too disgusted. Most of the strays went running off into the dark, though a few bold souls stopped just beyond the doors.

With the collar of his shirt up over his nose, the detective made his way through the lobby towards the blown-out front doors.

They’re gonna pay for this. So help me…I’ll kill all of them.

Chapter 2

The End Of The Beginning

“Are you sure this was a great idea?” asked Ben as he and his father were escorted through the halls and corridors of the AIC Veruvian. Behind them were four guards, all with their guns trained on their backs, the desire to shoot their enemy practically oozing out of their pores.

“It’s the only idea, Ben. The only plan. The only way we’ll win,”