Extinction Age Read online

  “Have you heard from the others?” Kate called from the doorway.

  Horn, Peters, Rodriguez, Smith, and a handful of other men she didn’t know turned in her direction, but didn’t reply. Horn dragged a tattooed arm across his mouth and then put his elbows on the table. She could see his face fall from where she stood.

  “We lost contact with them shortly after the bombs dropped,” Horn finally said.

  “Well, try again!” Kate snapped without thinking. Her eyes involuntarily roved from the new female radio operator sitting at the terminal across the room, to the soldiers, and back to the radio operator. The middle-aged woman stared back defiantly. Silver hair fell over the shoulders of her surprisingly neat navy uniform. Kate felt the stab of embarrassment. They were all looking at her like she was crazy.

  Kate turned back to the table, her cheeks hot and flushed. Several soldiers bowed their heads, but Horn held her gaze. “We have, Kate. Multiple times.”

  “Send a chopper and search for them. You can’t leave him there…”

  Major Smith rose to his feet. “We have a chopper on standby, Doctor. But we can’t deploy one without extraction coordinates.”

  “Kate, calm down,” Ellis whispered.

  It was then she realized she was shaking. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

  Smith gave her a silent but meaningful look and gestured for her and Ellis to join them at the table.

  “We received a message from Central Command a few minutes ago,” Smith said. “They have ordered a full retreat from every city. General Kennor has requested a call with you later this morning, Dr. Lovato.”

  “Me?” Kate asked.

  “Yes,” Smith replied patiently. “Central is putting forth a new strategy, and they want your help.”

  Before Kate could respond, the radio operator twirled her chair away from her terminal. She cupped her hand over her headset and said, “Sir, I’m getting a transmission from New York.”

  Smith hurried over to the equipment. “Put it on the speakers.”

  “Yes, sir,” the woman said. She twisted a dial and static coughed from the PA system.

  “Plum Island, this is Beckham. Does anyone copy?” There was a pause and then, “Team Ghost is on the run. I repeat, we’re on the run and need extraction, ASAP.”

  The crack of gunfire surged from the muddied speakers. Kate flinched, her heart leaping at every sound. Beckham was alive—for now. She rushed over to Smith’s side as the other soldiers crowded around.

  There was a break in gunfire. “We’re at Fiftieth and Eighth, going to try and make it back to Pier 86 in a—”

  Smith flicked his mini-mike to his mouth and said, “Echo 3, Smith. Warm up the bird. Ghost Team is on their way to Pier 86.”

  The other men were already hurrying out of the room by the time Smith gave the order. Horn touched Kate’s hand on his way out. “Don’t worry. I’m going to bring him back.”

  Beckham bolted toward the sounds of Jinx’s screams with his .45 out in front, scanning for a target. Muzzle flashes lit up the dark streets as Variants charged their position. He looked past them, yelling, “Jinx! Jinx, where are you?”

  Chow was shouting now, too. “Tell us where the fuck you are!”

  Beckham hesitated once he finally saw the numbers they were facing. The creatures charged toward Team Ghost from every direction. They spilled out of manholes and came crashing through the glass doors of nearby buildings. A dozen scampered across the walls of a bombed-out skyscraper.

  Ghost’s gunfire drew them in like moths to a flame. Beckham felt every shot, counting them in his head, hoping they had enough ammunition—but knowing they didn’t.

  Beckham slowed to fire his .45 at a female perched on a scorched Toyota Corolla a hundred feet away. The crack only an MK11 could make sounded behind him first, and her skull exploded in a cloud of mist from the 7.62 mm round, saving Beckham from using one of his precious cartridges. She tumbled to the ground, blood gushing from the gaping hole where her face had been.

  “On me!” Beckham yelled.

  He jumped onto the hood for a better vantage. Ryan and Valdez acted as flankers, setting up firing positions to cover the east and the west. Beckham would have ordered Timbo with Ryan instead of Valdez, but the Ranger was busy carrying Meg and Valdez had proven to be an expert marksman. The Marine Sergeant from 1st Platoon had killed more Variants in New York than Beckham had.

  Chow and Jensen covered the rear, while Timbo struggled forward with Meg bouncing on his wide shoulders. He was falling behind despite her frantic pleas to go faster.

  The entire team was running on fumes. They were all morning-after-leave tired, but the current threat was far worse than a bad hangover. As Beckham scanned the streets, he realized what a terrible mistake he’d made. He had broken every fucking rule in the book by giving chase to the Variant that had Jinx, and his order to open fire had only drawn more of the things from their lairs. He could blame it on the fatigue, but he knew better. The wound still hadn’t healed from the massacre of Team Ghost at Building 8 a month earlier. Seeing Jinx pulled away into the darkness had torn the scab off that wound. Now he’d put the lives of every person in his team in jeopardy by giving chase.

  And still Ghost worked forward, the muzzle flashes forming a fiery barrier around the group. Beckham searched the terrain desperately for any sign of the fallen operator.

  A male Variant with a crooked back galloped down the sidewalk, jerking from side to side. It leapt over bloated corpses, coiled its back legs, and then sprung into the air. Beckham shot it in the face with a movement so smooth it surprised him.

  Five rounds left.

  “Eyes! Who’s got eyes on?” Beckham yelled frantically.

  A smaller Variant charged him from the right, and Beckham turned to fire. He jerked the barrel aside at the last second when he realized it was a child. The shot went wide, whistling past the creature’s head. Beckham knew the thing racing toward him wasn’t a boy. It was a monster. He took aim again and shot it between the eyes. The tiny Variant crashed to the ground, skidding across the pavement until it came to a rest in front of Beckham. He jumped over the corpse and pushed on.

  Three rounds left.

  “Jinx!” Beckham shouted.

  Gunfire erupted from his six. Jensen and Chow took turns holding the Variants off their tail with short bursts.

  “Come on!” Beckham stormed through the clogged street toward Eighth Avenue, where they had last seen Jinx.

  “We have to get out of here!” Valdez yelled.

  “Not without, Jinx,” Beckham said.

  “I’m down to my last mag!” Valdez snarled.

  “We’re not leaving him,” Chow shouted back. “I don’t care if we have to use our knives.”

  Even if Beckham wanted to, it was too late to turn back and retreat. The entire city block was swarming with the monsters, hemming them in on all sides. Several rogue Variants made dashes for Team Ghost. Each was cut down in controlled fire. Jensen and Ryan halted to shoot at a pack that had broken off from the horde trailing them. They took turns, stopping every hundred feet to thin the group.

  It was obvious that the Variants were continuing to evolve, growing smarter and more cautious. Their actions in the tunnels and out here reflected that of predatory animals hunting in packs. They were testing Beckham’s men, figuring out who was weak. They’d started by grabbing Jinx and now they would do the same with the rest, picking them off one by one rather than risk a suicidal charge with their main force.

  “Jinx! Say something!” Beckham said into the comm. There was a faint response, more of a croak than a word. He couldn’t tell if it was static or the operator struggling to reply.

  A flash of motion at the intersection with Seventh Avenue commanded his gaze. Beckham jumped onto another hood just in time to see two Variants dragging Jinx past several abandoned Humvees.

  “Twelve o’clock!” Beckham shouted. “Ryan, hurry!”

  The Ranger crouched behind a vehic
le and scoped the street with his MK11 while the rest of the team covered the perimeter.

  “Why have we stopped?” Meg yelled.

  “Ryan, take them out!” Beckham shouted.

  Two cracks sounded, and Beckham watched the Variants’ heads disappear in a satisfying spray of red. He ordered the team forward with a hand signal before the bodies had slumped to the ground.

  “Jinx… Hold on… We’re coming!” Beckham wheezed.

  There was a muffled response before it was lost to a torrent of gunshots. Beckham gritted his teeth and sprinted toward the convoy. When he reached the edge, he slowed to raise his .45 and moved the barrel from side to side over the motionless street. Pounding boots and frantic voices followed him into the intersection. He darted through the street and collapsed at Jinx’s side.

  The operator held his neck with glistening hands. Blood gushed between his fingers. His wild eyes searched Beckham’s face in the moonlight, roving back and forth. Beckham gripped Jinx’s wrist and whispered, “It’s okay, man, it’s okay.” They locked eyes as Jinx struggled for air. His lips moved in and out with each gasp, blood gurgling in his mouth.

  By the time the team caught up, Jinx was gone. Beckham bowed his head and closed Jinx’s eyelids as more gunshots broke over the high-pitched screeches of the Variants.

  Chow dropped to his knees and shook Jinx’s body. “Jinx! Jinx! We’re going to get you out of here.” He felt for a pulse, knocking Jinx’s limp hands away from his throat and revealing a deep gash that stretched across his neck.

  Beckham pulled Chow away. “We’ve got to move!”

  “I got us a Humvee,” shouted Valdez over the comm. The cough of a diesel engine confirmed it.

  “Help me with him,” Beckham said.

  Together, Chow and Beckham carried Jinx’s body to the truck. As soon as the team was inside, Valdez pounded the gas, the tires squealing as they left the army of Variants in a cloud of dust and ash.

  -4-

  Ten minutes had passed since Kate had watched Horn kneel next to his girls and tell them he was going to pick up Beckham. They had begged him not to go, but Kate had known by the blazing look of fury in his eyes that he wasn’t going to leave his best friend in the field again. Horn had hugged his daughters goodbye, knocked fists with Riley, and followed the other soldiers through the crowded lobby, shouting, “Move, move!”

  “He’s going to be okay. I promise,” Kate reassured the girls after their father had bolted out of the building. She wanted more than anything to follow the men onto the tarmac and watch the chopper fly into the darkness. For a moment she considered it, but then a voice echoed down the hallway behind her, calling her name.

  “Doctors, there’s something I need you to see.” It was Major Smith, and he was standing in the corridor with his arms crossed.

  “Just a minute,” Kate said. She strained to see outside the windows of the crowded atrium one last time and then glanced down at Tasha and Jenny. Both girls were sobbing uncontrollably. She couldn’t leave them.

  “Bring ‘em with,” Smith said.

  Kate grabbed Tasha’s hand and squeezed it. “Come on.”

  Riley leaned over his wheelchair and snagged Jenny in his arms. He placed her gently on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. Ellis was already halfway down the hall by the time Kate managed to convince Tasha to come with her.

  Smith sat at the head of the war table, typing his credentials into the main computer. “Don’t worry, girls, your father is going to be just fine,” he said, hardly looking away from the screen.

  The major’s words did nothing to comfort either of them, and Tasha yanked on Kate’s hand. “When’s my daddy coming back?”

  Smith looked up. “Actually, they probably shouldn’t see this,” he said.

  “I’ll take ‘em,” Riley said. He offered a reassuring nod, and Kate joined Ellis and the major at the table.

  “One of the Variants survived the attack,” Smith said.

  The monitor flickered on and Kate saw a female Variant on the floor of a holding cell, hands and feet bound by chains. The bone on her right leg was exposed under a flap of skin and muscle. Bright ribbons of flesh hung loosely from her left arm, and her face was a mess. One of her eye sockets was caved in, the eyeball missing. Kate couldn’t stop staring at the monster as it squirmed in a puddle of its own blood.

  “Awful,” Kate whispered.

  Smith scratched his chin. “I’ve ordered one of my technicians to try and keep it alive.”

  “What… why? We already have two others,” Kate said.

  The door to the holding cell slowly opened and a man in riot gear took a careful step inside. He glanced up at the camera, his eyes hidden by a mirrored visor. After flashing a thumbs up, he crouched down with a box of medical supplies.

  “Neither of the other specimens is injured,” Ellis said as they watched. “If this one survives, it could prove to be very useful in our research. Just think about how much it could tell us about their healing abilities.”

  “That’s precisely what I was thinking,” Smith said.

  The Variant jerked toward the technician, snarling through broken teeth as he bent down to tighten the chains. Staggering backwards, he hit the wall and held out an armored arm like he was about to fend off a rabid dog. The creature pushed itself to its feet and used its good leg to spring toward him. He batted it away with an arm and reached for the Taser on his belt. Before he could grab it, the Variant was on him again. This time it clamped onto his armored wrist with its swollen lips. He hit the creature with his free hand, pummeling its broken eye socket with his fist.

  “My God,” Ellis said. “It’s like it feels no pain.”

  The technician hit the monster again and again, his fist striking harder each time. He finally knocked its lips off his armor. Instead of pulling his Taser, he scrambled back to the door, grabbed a tranquilizer gun from his supplies, and shot the creature in the neck.

  Smith crossed his arms and shook his head. “I hope you can find a way to kill these things.”

  “We will,” Kate said, staring at the screen. The female Variant collapsed face first onto the concrete. Her body twitched several times before finally going limp.

  “I need a guarantee the Variants won’t get out again,” Kate said. She realized how insane she sounded. Each time the Variants had been brought to the island, they had escaped. Too many innocent lives had already been lost, but Smith was right—they had to continue their research. Kate knew what she had to do, and what she had to ask for. It meant putting humanity’s dwindling survivors in jeopardy, but without a live specimen, her research would be limited to observations from other facilities.

  “I want a third of your remaining forces posted at Building 4. The Variants need to be sedated and monitored at all times,” Kate said.

  The major seemed to consider her words and said, “Okay, Doctor.”

  Kate nodded and brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen over her face as she focused on the monitor. The technician was working on the unconscious Variant. He dressed its wounds and then injected something into its chest.

  “Why don’t you snag a few hours of sleep before you begin?” Smith said. “Report back here at 0900 for the call with Central.”

  “No time for sleep,” Kate said. “And tell General Kennor I don’t have anything to say to him.”

  Smith raised a brow. “He requested to talk to you specifically.”

  “And I requested that he reconsider his tactics for Operation Liberty. How many died because of his stubbornness? The man is clearly too egotistical to listen to reason. I’m not wasting another minute with men like Gibson or Kennor.”

  “Gibson’s dead,” Smith said coldly.

  The shocking memory of shutting the doors to the ICU and sealing Gibson and the others inside sent a chill down Kate’s entire body. The past few hours had been so chaotic she’d almost forgotten about the colonel’s fate. Hearing it now
brought satisfaction she couldn’t hold back. She was glad he had perished at the hands of one of the monsters he created.

  Kate didn’t reply. There was too much on her mind, too many things she could say. She turned to stare out the observation window, imagining the burned Variant that had ended Gibson’s life, plunging its talons into the man’s soft flesh. It was odd, taking pleasure in death, especially now that every human life was so precious. A month ago she would never have felt anything short of horror. But the apocalypse had changed her. Hardened her. She was no longer the same woman she’d been before the Hemorrhage virus emerged.

  “Look at that!” Tasha said. She stood at the window, her finger pointing out over the waves. The sun emerged on the horizon, breaking over the ocean with a brilliant orange glow.

  Kate strolled over to the little girl and took her hand in her own. The squeak of Riley’s chair caught Kate’s ear as she watched the sunrise. A thumping replaced the sound, growing louder every second. The floor trembled and the windows rattled as a Blackhawk soared by.

  Tasha first backed away and then inched closer to the window. “Is that daddy?”

  “Yes,” Kate said.

  The chopper raced over the sapphire waves and banked hard to the left as it flew toward New York.

  Tasha palmed the glass as if she was reaching out to say goodbye. “He’s going to bring Reed home?”

  “Yes, sweetie. He is.”

  Tasha followed the chopper with wide eyes until it was only a dot on the horizon. Her hand fell away from the glass and she turned to Kate.

  “I’m tired,” Tasha said. “Can we go to sleep now?”

  Kate glanced back at Riley. Jenny was quiet on his lap, her head still buried and moving up and down with his breathing.

  Sunlight spilled over the floor, bathing the room in golden light. For a moment, Kate felt everything was going to be okay—even though she knew this moment of peace was balanced on a razor’s edge.

  The whine of the M260 from the Humvee’s turret and the roars of the Variants seemed so far off, like they were in a part of Beckham’s mind that he couldn’t completely access. He was hardly paying attention to Valdez’s erratic driving as the Humvee sped down West Fiftieth. The only thing he seemed to be fully aware of was Jinx’s blood soaking into his uniform.