Necromancer: Undead Lives Matter

CHAPTER 8

Vladivostok, Kosmonavtov Street, Building 78 — Same Time

“What kind of idiot leaves the keys in the ignition?”

Yuri was furious.

“Bibikov, you fucking moron!”

“Yura, everyone knows it's our car,” Artyom protested. “Nobody would dare steal it.”

“Blah-blah-blah…”

Yuri barely listened.

While they'd been waiting for the car, they'd been watching Dushny's movements.

Dushny.

What a ridiculous surname. Yuri could already imagine the nickname the guy must have had among his classmates.  

Dushnoy. Dushila.

Something along those lines. But none of that mattered now. Dushny had reached Fort No. 1.

And he'd stayed there.

Yuri looked up as a black Land Cruiser pulled into view.

“Okay.”

He straightened. “Everybody move.”

Fort No. 1

“What is this place?”

I stared through the windshield.

The concrete structure that supposedly passed for Fort No. 1 looked abandoned. No guards. No tourists. No lights.

Nothing.

I drove onto the grounds without any trouble and parked in what looked like a makeshift parking area.

“This is Fort No. 1,” Virgo explained. “It's also known as Tsar Mikhail Fyodorovich's Fort.”

“Okay…”

I looked around.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Where exactly am I? And why am I here?”

“Wait here for a while.”

Virgo’s voice was calm.

“Then the people chasing you won't be your problem anymore.”

That sounded ominously final.

“Now get out.”

“What?”

“Go down the stairs. Then find the ammunition storage.”

I stared at the entrance.

“That's assuming I know where it is.”

I got out anyway.

The stairs led underground. I descended and immediately found myself surrounded by darkness.

It was already night outside.

Down here, it felt like I'd stepped into a concrete tomb.

No windows. No lights. Nothing but damp air and blackness.

I didn't like it. Not one bit.

I switched on my phone's flashlight and started down a long corridor. The beam caught rusty doorways as I passed.

Water dripped somewhere in the darkness.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The air smelled damp and ancient.

I'd never really cared about Vladivostok's historical sights. Apparently, I was getting the full experience now. Although I seriously doubted this place offered guided tours.

“Welcome to Fort No. 1,” the guide would say. “Please mind the mold. Don't touch anything. And if you hear screaming, that's probably normal.”

The fort had once been built to defend Vladivostok from a Japanese invasion. Now its military purpose was long gone.

It had been abandoned to rot, becoming a playground for treasure hunters, history buffs, and people who enjoyed crawling around old ruins for reasons I couldn't understand.

My flashlight swept across the wall.

Then stopped.

A faded inscription.

AMMUNITION STORAGE.

There had obviously been a proper sign there once. Someone had apparently decided the sign would make a nice souvenir. All that remained was the words, sprayed in red paint.

My phone rang.

The old Nokia 7337 ringtone echoed horribly through the empty corridor. I nearly jumped.

I answered.

“The storage room is right in front of me,” I told Virgo.

I looked around.

“Now what?”

Silence.

“Where do I go?”

“You're already there.”

Something felt wrong. Very wrong. I heard her voice through the phone. But I also heard it behind me.

“You're already there.”

My blood ran cold.

I started turning.

Then the flashlight went out instantly.

The corridor disappeared into absolute darkness.

Fort No. 1 — Forty-Seven Minutes Later

They stood beside Dushny's abandoned BMW and tried to figure out what the hell he was thinking.

If Yuri  had been in Dushny's position, he wouldn't have stopped anywhere.

He certainly wouldn't have parked in the middle of nowhere and practically announced, Come get me.

And he would have gotten rid of the GLONASS tracker immediately.

The kid clearly had no idea how to evade anyone.

He'd be finished soon.

“Maybe he's trying to play Rambo?” Bibikov suggested.

“What?”

Strelnikov looked at him.

“Rambo.”

“I know who Rambo is.”

Artyom gestured toward the fort.

“Maybe he figured out we were tracking the car. So he deliberately picked an isolated place where nobody would hear anything.”

Yuri stared at him.

“So we walk into the bunker, and he picks us off one at a time.”

“Something like that.”

Yuri grinned.

“You've been watching too many movies.”

He looked toward the entrance.

“Actually, this place being deserted is perfect for us. Nobody's going to hear anything.”

He checked his Saiga-12K.

“Grab your guns.”

Artyom and Igor did so.

“And stay together,” Yuri added. “If we split up, that idiot might actually have a chance.”

With the Saiga-12K in his hands, Strelnikov led the way into Fort No. 1.

The place was miserable.

Dark.

Damp.

Dead quiet.

If Yuri had been forced to describe it in one word, he'd have gone with sinister.

Something about the place felt wrong.

Water dripped somewhere in the darkness.

The walls were wet.

The air probably reeked of mold, although Yuri couldn't smell much anymore. A bad case of the flu had damaged his sense of smell years ago.

Which was actually useful in his line of work.

When you spent your days cutting up corpses, there were certain smells you were better off not noticing.

His boots slapped against the concrete.

Not exactly stealthy.

But Yuri wasn't worried.

Anyone rushing him in this darkness was going to get a face full of buckshot.

Still…

Something bothered him.

Something's wrong.

Then he heard a strange wheezing sound behind him.

Yuri spun.

Igor was clutching his throat.

Blood sprayed between his fingers.

His lime-green shirt was turning red.

“What—”

Artyom spun around and immediately opened fire.

The AKS-74U erupted into the darkness.

The gunshot was deafening in the confined corridor.

Yuri’s ears rang.

He instinctively opened his mouth, trying to equalize the pressure.

“Stop!”

Artyom turned toward him.

“What?”

Something moved in the darkness.

A flash.

And Bibikov's head simply—

disappeared.

Yuri’s brain took a second to process what his eyes were seeing.

Then instinct took over.

He raised the Saiga and fired.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Nothing.

There was nobody there.

“What the f—”

Something slammed into the back of his head.

Hard.

Not hard enough to knock him out.

Yuri staggered forward, spun, and caught the next strike on the shotgun's fore-end.

A wooden club.

He stepped backward, brought the Saiga up, and fired at the figure.

The pellets tore into the man's body.

The robed idiot wearing a silver elephant mask collapsed in a mess of blood and shredded fabric.

Yuri barely had time to process what he'd just seen.

His instincts told him to turn.

He did.

Too late.

Something hit him in the side of the head.

It felt like Mike Tyson had personally decided to introduce himself.

The world went black.