Extinction Survival Series | Book 4 | Warrior's Fate

by Browning, Walt

  “What the hell is that?” the officer stammered.

  The machine gun began to bark. Both the woman and whatever had attacked her were torn apart by the massive bullets. Chunks of flesh sprayed the area and several bystanders were struck by the ricochet from the sustained burst.

  The crew of the HUMVEE sat stunned until another cry came from further under the overpass. More things were leaping onto the crowd, tearing into their victims with ravenous abandon.

  “Push through!” the officer yelled. “GO! GO! GO!”

  The HUMVEE accelerated and slammed into the back of one of the cars that had been blocking the intersection. He pushed it aside and shot forward. The eastbound lane was clear of vehicles, access to the road having been blocked by the accident. The westbound lane was clogged with people trying to get to the interstate and dozens of monsters were attacking those cars by crashing into their windshields, beating on the side windows, and pounding on their roofs.

  The convoy motored past the slaughter and soon got to the Mormon church. Three pickup trucks sat in the parking lot to the right of the highway, their roofs and beds filled with food and fuel.

  The elder pulled in. He opened the driver’s side window and waved at both the convoy and his companions in the lot. The elder’s SUV spun around and led the other three out. They formed up at the back of the convoy, following the military trucks out of town.

  “Look!” Pito said, pointing to the left at the area’s hospital.

  Numerous cars and several ambulances were clustered in front of the building’s entrances. What caught the young man’s attention were the monsters. They were rushing out of the structure, spreading out onto the compound’s lawn and running into the road.

  The convoy barreled down the six-lane street, speeding past the hospital and the creatures that were spewing out of it.

  Pito watched as the diablos ran at the convoy. Their legs and arms were disjointed in a way that looked unnatural. Their skin was crisscrossed with dark lines, and their eyes burned with a yellow flame. A rounded mouth with a mixture of human and razor-sharp teeth howled and screeched at them. The military vehicles made it past the attack.

  “Oh, no. The elder,” the driver said as he stared back, using his side mirror.

  “What happened?” Pito cried.

  A few moments went by before the driver smiled. “One of those things got to the elder’s Suburban. Seems he knows how to use a shotgun.”

  The trucks rolled on, never stopping nor further attacked. Elder Davis and his congregation members split from the convoy a while later. They were heading for Utah and a compound owned by a church member. They were healthy, well-stocked, and had a positive plan. Pito had a good feeling that they were going to make it.

  The convoy made it to the observatory with the supplies. Soon after, the mountain road was demolished at choke points on both the east and south approach. Their isolated location and military presence made the next year safe. It was an uneventful time for the scientists and their families.

  Lost Valley

  Beckham Hall

  “And that’s how I got here,” Pito said.

  The young man’s gaze finally returned to the group. The entire time he told the story, his eyes were focused at a far-off place. No one around him interrupted the tale. It was masterfully described, and each one of them felt that they’d lived through it themselves.

  “We are running out of food. They sent me out to find more supplies. I stopped at his place,” Pito nodded at one of the other travelers. “I knew he had a nice setup. A farm and animals in an isolated part of the reservation.”

  “I didn’t have enough food to help Pito,” the man added. “The other seven joined me when the infection spread. I could barely feed us. Even with my farm, we were barely getting by, so we decided to join Pito and help him find some supplies.”

  “One of the Guardsmen back at Palomar knew about a Navy SERE (Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape) training facility near Warner Springs,” Pito said. “We hoped that they had supplies. That’s where we were headed when we ran into the horde.”

  “I know about the SERE facility,” Carver said, remembering when he ran into his friend Porky Shader at the beginning of the infection. “I trained there.”

  “And we experienced the Temecula Hospital,” Kinney added. “It was even worse when we got there. We’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Well, we also got lucky running into you. I have about a hundred mouths to feed and a couple of sick scientists. Can you help?”

  Carver didn’t want to commit the community to the task. Their own supply stores were full, but only for the roughly fifty people of the camp. These folks wanted to triple their responsibilities.

  “I need to bring this up with our town council. You’re asking a lot,” Carver said. “Not only that, but where does it end? What if we get them another six months of food? Another year. How long do we have to support them?”

  “I don’t know,” Pito replied. “How long will this infection last?”

  “It’s not going to end anytime soon,” Carver answered. “Let’s just take this to the council. I’ll see if they can call a meeting tonight.”

  Palomar Observatory

  The Next Day

  Pito was fascinated by the Osprey. He leaned over and looked out of the open rear ramp as Donaldson hovered over the observatory’s parking lot. With no radio contact to warn of their arrival, Carver did a fast-rope insertion near the administration building. It took just a few minutes for the Guard to move the long-idled vehicles in the public parking lot and create space for Donaldson to land.

  She set the Osprey down on the asphalt, creating a tempest with the twin-bladed downwash. Stones and debris rocketed into the surrounding vehicles and HUMVEEs.

  Potoski walked down the center aisle and unbuckled Pito from the jump seat.

  “Good to go, kid,” he said, pointing down the ramp.

  Pito gazed around the inner bulkhead one more time. All of the pipes and electric conduits that lined the walls fascinated him. He had so many questions about the purpose of each of them, but the ride had been so short that he never had a chance to ask.

  “All this time, we were so close to each other,” Pito said. “How come you never came to the observatory?”

  “Why?” Potoski replied. “Wasn’t anything here that would help us survive.”

  “But you guys must have flown by dozens of times.”

  “We kept our flight paths along highways in case we had to make a forced landing. Flying over forests and mountains could make a rescue a little difficult if we had any engine trouble.”

  Pito nodded and walked down the ramp. Captain Elliot, Dr. Patel, and Carver were waiting to the side. Elliot stepped forward.

  “Pito, I sent you for food, and you bring back an Osprey? Well done.”

  “Wasn’t my intention,” the young man replied, smiling.

  “Let’s go inside,” Patel said. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  The conference room was crowded with people. Dozens of Guardsmen, scientists, and their family members lined the walls as Carver and the observatory’s leadership sat in metal office chairs at the eight-foot center-folding table. A pot of drip coffee was nearby, and Carver poured himself a cup.

  “We’re grateful for your help,” Elliot began. “We’ve already started rationing our calories. In another month, we’ll be out of food. We can’t begin to express our appreciation for your help.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Carver began before taking a seat.

  He took a deep breath and addressed the crowd. “Our community won’t be able to provide you with what you’re looking for.”

  Elliot sat back as the rest of the audience groaned. “Then, why are you here? It wasn’t just to bring Pito back.”

  “Look. I wish I had better news, but we’re barely making it on our own. Adding another hundred mouths to feed isn’t something we can do.”

  The disappointment in th
e crowd was palpable. Carver sensed the shift in their attitude and continued.

  “We’ve come up with a different idea. We want you to leave Palomar and relocate to Catalina Island. Many from our community have already gone there to join other survivors.”

  “But my research!” one voice groaned.

  “How will we get there?” another added.

  The room was suddenly filled with multiple conversations, not all of them positive. A few began to try to talk over the others, and the meeting quickly spiraled out of control.

  A loud, shrill whistle stopped everyone. Carver glanced across the table and saw Dr. Patel put her fingers between her lips and let out another blast. Carver’s eyes must have widened because she shrugged and leaned over.

  “I’m the oldest of eight.”

  The silence was only momentary, and a few muted conversations quickly started back up.

  “Everyone quiet!” the petite director yelled. The room finally stayed silent. She nodded at Carver. “There. Please continue.”

  “Please, hear me out,” Carver began. “This place is both unsustainable and undefendable. We can’t give you a steady supply of food and diesel. We just don’t have the resources.”

  “I understand the food and fuel part, but the mountain is very defensible. We’ve knocked out the roads and created several choke points where we can destroy any invading force,” Elliot countered.

  “You’ve obviously not had a run-in with the Variants.”

  “What are Variants?” Patel asked.

  Carver told them about the military experimentation that led to the birth of the Variants.

  “So, they climb like roaches and swarm like ants? Fascinating,” Patel said.

  “Why haven’t we been overrun by now if all our defensive measures are ineffective against them?” Elliot asked.

  “Simply put, they don’t know you’re here.”

  “I can vouch for what Carver is saying. They move through the land like locust. Nothing stops them,” Pito added.

  “From what I could see on the flight in, you’ve got a standard eight-foot perimeter wall topped with concertina wire. From experience, I can tell you that it wouldn’t even slow them down. Nothing fazes them and certainly not some barbs on top of a chain-linked fence. They’d scale it in seconds. They don’t seem to feel pain, and I’ve seen these creatures take normally fatal gunshot wounds and keep coming. The only thing that stops them is to destroy the brain.”

  “Sobering,” Elliot said quietly.

  Carver got up and began to pace. It was imperative that they understand the situation.

  “You can have a life on Catalina,” he began. “There’s a naval vessel providing electricity, and there’s many miles of ocean buffering you from the Variants. I’ve already contacted the island, and they are excited that you might join them. They’ll even send a flotilla of boats over to pick you up.”

  “But, my research,” Patel repeated. “It’s all on the mainframe here.”

  “How big is the mainframe?” Carver asked.

  “About the size of a school locker.”

  “Can you move it? If so, we can take it along.”

  “Anything can be moved,” one of the scientists replied. “But will it work when we get there?”

  “Yeah! Can it be powered and stored properly?” another added.

  “Look. Those are questions that can’t be answered until you try. The ship has an air-conditioned room for their computers. They’ve got some tech people that could help integrate your server into their network. But in the long run, it’s a moot point. You have to leave. How much you can bring and what you’ll be able to do once you get there, won’t be known until you try.”

  “But my data…” someone moaned.

  “We’ve got backups,” Patel yelled, cutting off further complaints. “We run them every night. We’ll take them with us, along with the mainframe. I’ll make it work with whatever computer network we find.”

  “You people have to understand something,” Carver added. “If you stay here, you will die. You’ll starve or the Variants will find you. I don’t know how much simpler I can make it.”

  The room went silent.

  The group began to argue, spending several hours of wasted time and energy bickering about their future. In the end, relocation was their only choice. They’d have to abandon the observatory. The only question left was how to get to Catalina Island without being eaten by the Variant horde.

  — 5 —

  We are kept keen on the grindstone of pain and necessity.

  — H.G. Wells, The Time Machine

  Rincon, California

  Five Days Later

  Dry. That was Carver’s first thought. The recent rains hadn’t changed the surrounding countryside’s appearance. Not that it was a bad thing. The arid inland landscape held a beauty of its own. It also afforded a long field of vision, which was a benefit in avoiding Variant hordes.

  Carver sat in the lead HUMVEE, riding shotgun. Shrek shared the uncomfortable passenger seat with him.

  Shrek had resumed his duties at Carver’s side just two days prior, having mostly recovered from his injuries. The dog was walking with a slight limp, but, like most operators, he pushed through the pain. Of course, now he and Carver both enjoyed the same morning dose of Motrin to get through the day. Then again, up until the Variant apocalypse, just about every operator in the military enjoyed a daily supplement of Vitamin M.

  In the distance, Carver watched Everly’s Cobra gunship moving ahead of the convoy. The attack helicopter was a few miles to their front, scanning the area for signs of the enemy. So far, the convoy had been left alone.

  The trip to Catalina had been complicated by mechanical problems that had suddenly beset Donaldson’s Osprey. Her first flight to the island carried the scientists’ beloved mainframe computer, along with a slew of electronic gear. On returning to Palomar, her engines seized, and she’d nearly crashed. She made it safely to Lost Valley, but they’d been unable fix the problem.

  The Osprey was a complicated machine, and diagnosing a malfunction was difficult, even with the right equipment and personnel. The mechanics’ best guess was that the fuel was starting to go bad. That eliminated an air relocation, so the island was contacted, and a swarm of boats were dispatched to recover the Palomar survivors. They were presently heading to the coast in Oceanside.

  “Hey, Carver, I’ve got Master Chief Shader on SATCOM,” Gavin Gringleman said from the back seat.

  The young man passed the headset up to Carver.

  “Go ahead, Porky.” Carver grinned as he spoke. They’d dropped the formalities of a normal military radio call. They still used squad designations when there was a mission, but communicating one-on-one was treated like a phone call.

  “John. We’ve made it to Oceanside Harbor. We are about a half mile offshore, and it’s crawling with Variants.”

  Carver winced. Things had been going way too smoothly so far. It was inevitable that something would go wrong.

  “The sun’s been up for over an hour. They should be under cover right now,” Carver complained.

  “Brother, I don’t think that’s a problem right now. There’s something going on here. I think…wait!” The transmission ended abruptly.

  Carver gave his friend a few seconds to return to the call before trying to reconnect.

  “Shader. Do you copy?” Carver tried several more times but received no response. “Shit,” Carver mumbled. “What the hell is going on over there?”

  “Maybe you can send Everly over to the harbor,” Gringleman offered. “He could be there in no time.”

  “Good idea.”

  Carver gave Gavin the satellite phone and grabbed his own radio. “Everly, this is Carver. Over.”

  “Read you five-by-five. Over.”

  “I lost contact with Shader. They’re offshore about a half mile from the harbor. Can you run down there and take a look? Over.”

  A few seconds went by befo
re Everly replied.

  “Copy that. I just did another infrared 360 scan, and the area is clear. I’d suggest you pause until I return. Over.”

  “Good idea. We’ll hold at our present location until you get back. Carver, out.”

  Carver switched channels to the squad frequency and stopped the convoy at the crest of a hill, overlooking the valley. It gave the convoy a clear line of sight for a mile in every direction.

  “We’ll hold here,” he broadcast over the squad frequency. “Gonzalez, take a man and set up an OP on top of your bus. Everyone else needs to stay in their vehicles. We should be moving again inside of fifteen minutes.”

  Carver checked his watch. The Mudmaster was back in action with a fresh battery. He had more replacements for the watch that he’d stashed in the camp’s freezer. The lower temperature would slow down the batteries’ decay. Hopefully, they would still have a charge when this one depleted.

  “Everly should be there in another minute,” Gringleman said when he saw Carver check his timepiece.

  “Carver!” Everly barked over the radio. “Carver!”

  “This is Carver. Go with your report.”

  “There are Variants everywhere,” he began. “It looks like a war is going on. They’re tearing each other apart. Holy shit! They’re on me!”

  “Who’s on you?” Carver replied after Everly cut off his transmission. “Everly! What is it?”

  “Shit. It’s those damn flying bastards. They tried to swarm me.”

  “I thought we sealed them in the sub.”

  “I see three of those things in the distance, but there are others. Those bug-like bastards are all over the place. Oceanside is a no-go. I’m heading out to check on Shader.”

  “Copy that, Viper. I’ll be standing by. Carver, out.” He turned to Gavin. “Raise Shader again.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve been trying. No response.”

  Carver nodded and sat back, stroking Shrek’s coat. Waiting was always the hardest part, but with Everly racing out to the flotilla, he’d have an answer soon enough.