BZRK: Apocalypse (BZRK 3)

Her father, her brother. Ophelia, Nijinsky, Anya. Billy. She saw his head fall to the side, his neck cut almost through.

At least her mother had died of natural causes. She hadn’t been murdered. So much sadness, and now, the whole world was joining Plath in that sadness. That did not help. The old saying was that misery loves company. But Plath knew that misery needed hope. Misery needed to believe in a better future.

What was happening back in the world where Tanner’s son lived? Had Lear’s madness killed millions, or just hundreds of thousands? Had Burnofsky’s vile machines escaped to obliterate all of life?

How much could the human race stand? The dinosaurs had thrived for tens of millions of years before dying out. How many species had evolved, survived, and then at last succumbed?

Homo sapiens were, what, a million years old? And all of human civilization just a tenth of that. Had the clock run out?

Noah, lying in his own blood while the Twins raged and Burnofsky gloated.

Had she loved him? Then how could it be that she’d not told him? Too late now. Now she could only offer him more blood. More murder.

I’ll kill her. For you, Noah.

“It’s cold,” Plath said. “Let’s get this done.”

“We’ll drive you around to the far side, to the top of the ramp, and then stay out of sight.”

Staying out of sight was an illusion. Sensors had tracked the approach of the sleighs. And now Stillers reported to Lear that the sleighs were behaving strangely. They had stopped for a while at the northern end of the valley before continuing on around to the southern entrance.

“Now they’re just sitting there.”

Interesting, Lear thought. Frightened employees? Was some of the biot conditioning that all her core people had been subjected to beginning to weaken?

Her eyes flicked to the TV. YouTube was still up, thankfully. Bug Man was watching a shaky video of a Tesco being looted.

“Do we have cameras on the ramp?” Lear asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Stillers said.

“Get them on-screen here.” Soon a dimly lit image of the ramp opened. At first: nothing, just gravel and ice. Then, someone walking down the ramp. The person wore a heavy parka with a fur-lined hood, with dark goggles covering the upper part of the face.

“Can’t see the face,” Stillers said. “I’ll send some guys up there.”

“No.” Lear smiled. “I think … I think maybe I can guess who this is. Yeah. Have men ready, get a sniper into position to cover my door, make sure all security personnel are armed at all times, and I’ll want a handgun for myself. Do nothing unless I give the order.”

Stillers nodded and went about his work.

“I believe we have company, yeah,” Lear said to Bug Man. “I do not know how she did it, clever girl, but if I’m right, we’ll have an old friend of yours over for a drink.”

Opportunity for Suarez came with Kung Pao chicken—extra spicy, the way she liked it—brown rice, and a glass of Austrian white wine.

After so long planning what to do with a bucket as the only weapon, she was handed a golden opportunity: Chesterfield came armed.

She immediately recognized it as a Glock nine-mil with a eventeen-round clip. She had fired hundreds of rounds from a weapon essentially identical to this. All that was good, but the beautiful part from her perspective was that the standard cop holster was also very familiar, and she would be able to draw it smoothly, especially if she could get behind him.

Much better than trying to beat him down with a pee bucket.

The final piece of the puzzle was the Kung Pao. And more specifically, the peanuts.

She accepted her tray, invited him to stay so she could be sure it wasn’t too spicy. She took a bite and cried, “Oh, no. No! Peanuts!”

“What’s the matter?”

She put a hand to her throat and began wheezing dramatically. “Allergic … to … peanuts. I can’t breathe! Help …” And then choking noises and a strained, whooping breathing and Chesterfield made the fatal move: he behaved like a human being, stepped in, knelt down, and in a blur of movement felt the muzzle pressed against the side of his head.

“I would honestly hate to do it,” Suarez said. “You’ve been decent to me. But Chesterfield, I will blow your brains out if I have to. The alternative …”