Extinction Survival Series | Book 4 | Warrior's Fate

by Browning, Walt

  Gonzalez concentrated his light’s beam on the Variant’s upper body. “Hey, Carver. What is that?”

  Carver bent down and lifted up a knife sheath that was on a chain around the monster’s neck. He yanked it free and handed it to Gonzalez.

  “It’s Keele’s,” Gonzalez hissed.

  “Be careful,” Lazzaro said.

  His flashlight was pointing at the dog’s side. Blood flowed from the wound as the Mal’s intestines bulged out of the abdominal cavity.

  Shrek was infected and had lost too much blood. Either way, he was on his way to joining his ancestors.

  Carver cradled the dog’s head and smiled. “You did it, boy. You saved them.”

  Shrek gave his partner a slight grin, then grimaced as the contagion began to burn within. The dog was losing blood and could barely stay awake.

  The Variant gurgled as it tried to get to his mortal enemy.

  Carver got up and positioned Shrek so the dog could see the Variant.

  The SEAL hovered over the alpha, then crouched down. “You failed. My wife and son are safe.” He crouched a little lower and whispered his next words. “You…are dying.”

  The alpha’s eyes blazed.

  Carver pulled out his KA-BAR knife and placed it over the monster’s right eye. He looked up at Shrek and nodded.

  Staring down at the infected monster again, Carver hissed, “This is for Keele.” He looked back at his faithful dog. “And this is for you, Shrek.”

  The former SEAL plunged all seven inches of the steel blade down into the alpha’s skull. He twisted the handle, macerating the creature’s infected cranial tissue, making sure the giant would never rise again.

  He left the blade sticking out of its skull and returned to his war dog partner and cradled his head once again. The dog seemed calm now, and his eyes were becoming dim as his body struggled with its final breaths.

  “I’ll see you on the other side,” Carver whispered.

  Shrek used the last of his air to push out a final whimper of love.

  He stopped breathing and his old, valiant heart beat its last.

  Carver kissed his dead partner’s face and cried for the first time since his mother passed away. It was a fitting end for the war dog team. Shrek sacrificed himself while killing his greatest enemy and saving those he loved. He went out a hero instead of passing quietly as a crippled, old soul.

  For a warrior like the faithful Mal, there was no better way to die.

  Shrek

  The asp has them. It took Hope and the child. I must follow. I must kill the asp.

  It moves quickly through the dark, but it leaves a scent that I follow without sight.

  It lumbers through the trees, slowed by its size. I can smell its closeness. I am near it now.

  I am weak and my body hurts. I put that away. I will push forward.

  I hear Carver talk. “J.K,” my master says.

  The asp laughs. It taunts Carver. It will kill Hope and the boy.

  Then it will kill Carver.

  I break out of the grass and see the asp and my master. They face each other. Carver needs help. I am behind the asp. It doesn’t know I am here.

  The blood rushes to my head. My heart pounds in my chest. The wounds seem to go away and the pain in my body fades. I will attack.

  All I see is the creature’s neck.

  I will kill the asp.

  I will save Hope and her son.

  I will save my master.

  Because I am Shrek.

  I leap onto the asp’s back and latch onto its neck and bite with every ounce of strength I have. It is powerful and swings me back and forth. It tries to reach me, but I just clamp down harder.

  I feel my fangs pierce its flesh.

  It reaches back again and rakes my skin, but it fails to grab me. I squeeze my jaws together so hard that my teeth may shatter.

  I don’t care, I will break it.

  It wants to kill my master.

  It wants to kill his mate.

  It wants to kill their son.

  It wants to kill my clan.

  It wants to kill my family.

  I squeeze with the last of my strength.

  I feel my teeth sink further. I pass bone and pierce something soft.

  The asp drops to the ground and falls back on top of me.

  It stops moving.

  It can’t hurt my family anymore.

  I lie under the asp and watch as Hope is saved. She looks at me. We see each other. She is safe. I hear Carver’s son. They carry him away unhurt.

  Carver comes over and lifts the asp off me. They pull me out and Carver cradles my head.

  We both know my time to leave is near.

  He sets me down, and I watch as my master destroys the asp. It will never hurt anyone in my clan again.

  I am satisfied. I can go to be with my ancestors now.

  I am free.

  Carver comes back and holds me again.

  The bright lights from the others shine on us, but my eyesight continues to fade. It is getting darker now, but I have no pain. For that, I am grateful.

  I will pass on to my ancestors while in the arms of my partner.

  I have killed the enemy. I have won.

  I hear the ancestors talking. They call me to them.

  I tell them I am on my way.

  I look up at Carver. His eyes tell me of his love.

  I tell him back.

  Just like the first day we met, we understand each other.

  We always have.

  I will go forward to be with those that came before me.

  They will all know who I am and of my great victories.

  Because I am Shrek.

  I am the ghost that kills in the night.

  I always win.

  It is just…who I was.

  I breathe my last.

  A light, brighter than I have ever seen.

  My ancestors appear. I feel their love. I feel their acceptance. I feel their pride. I did good. Now I will do my best to guide my children, just as these ancestors helped me.

  I had a life well lived.

  I had a noble and valiant death.

  What more could I ask for?

  — 28 —

  The whole world’s broke and it ain’t worth fixing

  It’s time to start all over, make a new beginning

  There’s too much pain, too much suffering

  Let’s resolve to start all over make a new beginning

  “New Beginning”

  — Tracy Chapman

  Lost Valley

  One Month Later

  Poor Carver. After Shrek stopped breathing, one of them had to make sure the Mal didn’t resurrect as a Variant. Gonzalez volunteered to do the deed. In the end, Carver felt that it was his responsibility. He retrieved his silenced .22 pistol and put a security shot with a subsonic bullet behind the dog’s ear. The hole was practically invisible.

  It was time to bury his friends.

  The funerals at Lost Valley were normally quiet affairs. Carver could speculate on a reason for the poor attendance, but it would only be a wild guess. There were many legitimate reasons, including the fact that most people were thrown together at the camp and didn’t know many of the deceased that well. Then again, so many had died over the prior years that funerals had become a normal part of life. Nothing special about someone being killed.

  That was the case for the young girl who was with Lazzaro the night the Variants attacked. She had been caught in the woods, literally, with her pants down. The monsters had made short work of her, and only her family and a few friends attended the burial.

  That wasn’t the case for Kinney and Shrek. The entire camp, as well as a number of residents from Catalina, showed up for the service.

  They had found Kinney’s body in the woods near the girl’s corpse. The Variants had thrown him into the brush right before they attacked. He was fairly intact, so they had something to bury.

  They put both warr
iors in the ground on the same day. It was a fitting end to their lives. Kinney went under the tree near his old home, and Shrek was placed next to him. They were both able to see the porch from their graves, the one place in camp where they’d spent so much of their happy time.

  Carver could also see their markers.

  Several times, Hope heard her husband out on the porch, conversing with one or both of them.

  Once, he was lying on the plastic couch after a particularly contentious meeting with the town council. He yelled at the old Marine’s grave. “You know, Harold. All those panty-wearing councilmen need is a good kick in the butt and a stint at Parris Island.”

  Another time, she saw her husband lying on the couch with his arm down at his side. His hand was searching aimlessly for Shrek’s coat. Then, he looked over at the dog’s marker and rolled over.

  Her husband was depressed or had PTSD, and she could do nothing about it. She tried talking to the camp’s doc, but Chris Reedy wasn’t a physician; he was an EMT. He had no advice other than for her to give him time and be supportive.

  She tried talking to Shader, but being out on Catalina Island, he wasn’t much help. All she could do was wait and pray.

  Today was one of those early spring days that made California so desirable. Pushing seventy degrees after a week of rain and highs in the fifties, it was a welcome respite from the winter weather.

  Carver was at his spot on the couch taking a nap. He’d thrown off the old blanket he’d started with. Sleeping on his side, his hand was down to the porch’s floorboard with his fingers entwined in the old cotton throw.

  Gary Gringleman walked up onto the veranda and went to the kitchen door. He knocked on the frame, earning a grunt from Carver.

  “Oh. Sorry, sir.”

  Carver sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. Gary stood next to him, waiting for the SEAL to gather himself.

  “I’m good. What’s up?” Carver finally said.

  “We’ve lost contact with Twentynine Palms,” he started. “They’ve missed their last two check-ins. I thought you should know.”

  That report got Carver’s attention. Since the attack at the field that took Shrek’s and Kinney’s life, there hadn’t been a single report of Variants. The camp was moving forward on the assumption that they’d finally eliminated the threat. They had even set up a permanent station at the San Diego Naval Yard, a significant event since it had been too dangerous to leave anyone in town overnight just two months prior.

  It was getting to a point where Carver was worried about the camp becoming complacent. That concern was what initiated his last run-in with the city council. They wanted to limit the training Carver had been providing to all residents so that it would free them up for other work or just to relax.

  He reminded them of the fact their training had saved them in the field that night. Reducing the camp’s trigger time would only lead to trouble. Learning to shoot and defending oneself was a perishable skill.

  Hope heard the young man talking to her husband and had stepped out onto the porch. “Hello, Gary.”

  “Mrs. Carver,” he said, removing his ballcap.

  “What did I hear about Twentynine Palms?”

  “We haven’t heard from them in a couple of days. I wanted to let your husband know before I contacted the Freedom so they could send their drone over to the base.”

  The SEAL jumped up and retrieved his rifle. He was back in moments with a jump in his step. “Let’s get to the shack. I want to hear what they find firsthand.”

  The two men left, Carver with a renewed energy in his demeanor.

  Electronics Shack

  Lost Valley

  “That’s a hard copy, Freedom. Will advise when we decide on a plan. Lost Valley, out,” Gary said.

  “Well, this is not good,” Carver said.

  Several of the town council members were in the shack along with Everly, Gonzalez, Lazzaro, and Gary’s brother, Gavin.

  “Do you see why we need to keep preparing?” Carver asked one of the council members who had been particularly harsh in his criticism of continuing arms training.

  “We still don’t know what happened. They may have left on their own,” the politician said.

  “Sorry. That doesn’t fly,” Gonzalez shot back, taking some of the heat off of Carver. “There aren’t enough vehicles missing to account for that.”

  “They may have—”

  The councilman’s rant was cut off by Carver, who slammed his fist onto the table. “Cut the crap. This is identical to the other colonies we lost.”

  “But…we killed all the Variants,” the man whined.

  Gonzalez snorted at the statement. The man had been hiding in the middle of the group of women and children during the attack. No one confronted his cowardice, but everyone knew he’d abandoned his place on the front lines.

  “We have to assume the colony is lost. The question is, how do we go forward? Do we run a group up there to search for survivors? The other colonies at Mettler and Mountainside provided no clue as to how they’d been taken. Is it worth it to send a convoy up there?”

  An hour of wasted time went by as Carver fought the council for permission to investigate the disappearance. He told the stubborn councilman he was correct in his assumption that the horde had been eliminated. That meant there had to be something else behind this abduction.

  “Sir,” Carver said for the fourth time, “we need to find out what happened. Without knowing, we can’t mount a defense.”

  “Then continue your drills, and we will reevaluate your training at the next council meeting.”

  Lazzaro grabbed the table and stood. “You idiot! They were all Marines at Twentynine Palms. They had more training than we could ever hope to accomplish, and every one of them was fit and armed. Training isn’t going to save our camp. We have to know what happened, or we may be next. Can’t you get that through your thick skull?”

  The room went silent. No one expected the Marine to jump down their throats as he did. The tirade was so harsh it cowered the council into agreeing to Carver’s plan, and he got busy giving orders immediately.

  “Call Freedom. Send Donaldson back. She’s going to fly us up to Twentynine Palms.”

  The Osprey was at the island’s airport getting serviced. They’d moved Morales and all the scouts that made up the camp’s flight maintenance group over to Catalina. The facilities were superior, especially since it had a concrete runway to land on. The dirt at Lost Valley had been the source of a number of the aircraft’s maintenance woes.

  After the call to the island, the meeting broke up. Donaldson would be back in the morning. Tomorrow, they’d fly up to the Marine base and try to figure out how all those grunts had disappeared.

  Twentynine Palms Marine Corps Base

  Camp Wilson Air Station

  The craft gleamed, both inside and out. The crew at the airport had given it a final polish before sending it back to the camp. Even Donaldson’s helmet had been given a new paint job. The old, scuffed, white plastic had been sprayed a sky-blue hue and given a waxy shine.

  Upon entering the back ramp of the Osprey, Lazzaro worked his way to the cockpit and noticed Donaldson’s new dome.

  “Hey, Captain. Could you take off your shades?” he asked.

  Donaldson was confused but removed her American Optics sunglasses.

  “Yeah. Your helmet does match your eyes. Very sexy.”

  Donaldson squinted in angry suspicion, her years of fighting the old bigotry against women in battle flared back up. “Did Everly put you up to that?”

  Lazzaro looked at her, his expression oozing innocence. “Why, no, ma’am. Just making an observation.”

  “You’re too stupid for that,” she spat. “I’m going to kill him.”

  Lazzaro sat next to Gonzalez on the bulkhead bench. They gave each other a fist bump.

  Carver knew the two of them had hatched up that little encounter. They assumed that she’d take it out on her boyfr
iend, and she didn’t disappoint. They could hear her ranting on the radio to Everly, who was warming up his attack helicopter to fly cover for their insertion.

  “If I find out he didn’t put you up to this, I’m going to skin you alive,” Donaldson yelled back at Lazzaro. She slammed the divider shut, blocking any more conversations.

  Gonzalez just gave Lazzaro a smile and nod. They were starting to bond.

  Carver looked at the rest of the men he commanded. He was proud of his group. The only thing that hadn’t gone according to plan was a surprise visitor who had accompanied the flight from Catalina back to the camp.

  A few minutes after the Osprey landed, Carver got a knock on his door. It was Shader. He decided to join the group and see first-hand, what might be going on. Carver welcomed the inclusion of his old SEAL brother, and his presence seemed to calm Hope down just a bit. She knew that Shader would die to protect her husband, and she loved him for it.

  Shader joined them for breakfast, but only ate a couple hard-boiled eggs. His waist had shrunk, and his face had thinned.

  “We’re going to have to stop calling you Porky. You’ve lost some weight,” Hope said at the breakfast table.

  “That’s not why we call him Porky,” Carver said with a grin. “Let me tell you a little story…”

  “Belay that, sailor,” Shader said, cutting his friend off. “No shop talk at the table.”

  Hope noticed that both men wore a shit-eating grin. It must be a good story for a man to tolerate that nickname.

  “Truth is, I’m going to be pushing sixty soon. I need to drop some lbs. if I want to avoid any problems later.” He pronounced it “El Bees”.

  “Like I said. Domesticated.” Carver snickered. “Has it helped your eyesight?”

  “No. But my sex life is incredible,” he shot back.

  “Hey! I have a little boy around here. Clean it up. Both of you,” Hope snapped. Both men nodded contritely.

  Now, as they prepared to lift off for the Marine Base, Carver looked at his old SEAL battle buddy. Gone was the light-hearted attitude from breakfast. Shader was all business, having done this more times than he could remember. Between them both, they had over sixty years of experience in battle. Hundreds of insertions and more kills than could be counted. The only thing missing was his old friend, Shrek. He could never be replaced.