Lucas’s brother, Tim, had moved to the Navy and was somewhere on the ship. He was part of the boat’s Marine Corps contingency, along with Gonzalez and Lazzaro. Fortunately, today had been calm and their services hadn’t been needed. They were likely in the ship’s galley, playing cards.
The rest of Lucas’s family had found a house on the hillside in Avalon. His dad was at the hospital, working with the island’s only physician, Doctor Ladley. Lucas’s mom was offered a job by Shader, but she declined. She was staying home, letting others worry about law and order for the first time in over twenty years. It was a well-earned early retirement.
Both Donaldson and Everly continued to fly their machines. There was still a betting pool on who and when would be the first one to crash. The only difference now was they bet on which month, not which day, the event would occur. Hopefully, it would never happen.
The rest of the scouts and their families were all farming. It was what they’d done back at Lost Valley, and it was what the island needed to survive. There was a lot to learn about the soil and what it could support.
Gavin went to the lower deck, where the Zodiac was recovered. The ramp was down in the ocean while the inflatable boat brought the last of the survivors on board.
He watched as a small family was eased onto the deck. They looked a bit confused and malnourished. He moved to them and introduced himself then directed them to the galley for a meal and drink. They’d see Doc Ladley for a checkup when they got to Avalon. No one wanted some disease to find its way onto the island.
By their looks, these people had been living on the edge. They were thin to a point of being gaunt. Some showed signs of dehydration. Diarrhea from contaminated food and a lack of clean drinking water was a constant symptom of those they rescued. He handed them plastic bottles filled with the ship’s filtered water.
“Drink slowly,” he said gently. “Don’t overwhelm your system.”
The family thanked him as he showed them to the galley. From there, they would be given a change of clothing and access to the ship’s showers. For some, it was their first hot shower since the infection broke out.
Gavin was about to move back to the upper level, when he noticed that one of the survivors hadn’t moved from where she stood at the side of the Zodiac. She was a gaunt woman, giving her an ancient appearance. Her skin was almost translucent, probably due to a lack of nutrition. She shook as she watched him and looked like she was going to pass out.
Gavin walked over to her and held out his hand. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”
She continued to stand and stare.
The ramp began to close behind her, and the sailors had already secured the craft. They’d be underway soon; she needed to move.
“Come on. I’ll take you to the galley.”
Her eyes teared up as he got close. There was something about her that made him stop.
“Gavin?” she croaked.
He froze as memories fought to be recognized. He took a closer look at the woman. Nothing about her looked familiar. But the voice. Her voice.
It couldn’t be.
“Mom?”
She opened her arms and began to cry. “It’s been so long; I didn’t know if it was you or Gary.”
Gavin rushed to her and wrapped his arms around her frail frame. Their emotions couldn’t be contained, and they both sobbed. The ship began to move as they clenched each other. He pulled back and kissed her cheek. The joy. The happiness. Years of pain and guilt were lifted. His mother was finally coming home.
Catalina Island
Dr. Chloe Maxwell’s Farm
Carver
Carver drove his pickup truck to the kitchen entrance. His job in the morning was to pick up Shader. He didn’t mind it. Chloe’s cook always had a treat and fresh coffee waiting for him. This morning, he had made cinnamon scones. The percolator was chugging along when he slid into the kitchen chair. A fresh cup of java and a pastry always made the day start out right.
He was halfway through the meal when Shader finally appeared, holding a pair of leather gloves. “Chloe forgot these. Come with me so we can deliver them.”
“Why don’t you go yourself? I still have half a scone to eat, and I don’t want this coffee to get cold.”
“I’ve got plenty,” the cook said. “I’ll have a new cup ready when you get back.”
“Come on. We’ll take the cart.”
“You’re like a little girl,” Carver said, popping the rest of the scone in his mouth. He pointed at his empty plate. “I want another scone too.”
The cook chuckled. “No problem.”
The two old SEALs hopped into the golf cart and sped off to a nearby barn. Chloe was there with Lucas, attending to a group of young dogs that Lucas was training.
Carver sat in the passenger seat of the cart, watching Lucas working with the canine trainees. It brought back memories of Shrek. He pulled out a picture of him and Shrek from his wallet. Both of them were kitted out with their tactical vests and helmets. They were somewhere outside of J-bad in Afghanistan.
It had been a few months since the old guy had died saving the lives of his wife and kid. It still hurt, but the photo gave him solace. The good memories were finally replacing those of his faithful friend’s death.
He continued to watch as Lucas ran the dogs through their paces. They all took to the training, except for one. It was a smaller German Shepherd with dark features, almost like a Malinois. It definitely had a Belgian’s temperament.
All attempts to get the dog to release its training towel were failing. Lucas tried bribing it, scolding it, ignoring it, and sneaking up on it. Nothing worked. The young man finally gave up and walked away, leaving the dog standing in the field with its prize.
“That dog won’t listen,” he complained.
“You just need patience,” Carver replied. “They all come around with enough love.”
“That’s easy for you to say. I’ve about given all the love I can.”
“Don’t give up. I’m sure it will come around.” The SEAL got out of the cart and took a closer look. “It’s a little small for a Shepherd.”
“Well, yeah. He’s half Belgian. I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“He’s Shrek’s boy.”
Carver stood, stunned. He had no idea.
“Shrek’s last visit here was two years ago. He mixed it up with Dr. Maxwell’s German Shepherd. Specter is the only male. She’s breeding the four females right now.”
Carver was drawn to the dog. It stood in the grass, returning his gaze.
“What’s his name?”
“Specter. Naming him after a ghost only seemed fitting, given his dad’s name.”
“Yeah. Shrek means ghost in German,” Carver replied absently.
Lucas walked back to the dog and held out his hand. Specter ran away, challenging Lucas and still refusing to give up his prize.
“See? He’s not trainable,” Lucas said.
Carver knew what he had to do.
“Sure, he is. You just need to reward him. You need to let him know that you’re the boss. You can’t beat them into submission, but you also can’t let them think they’re your equal.”
Carver walked up to the Shepherd/Mal mix and stared into its eyes. He didn’t bend down; that showed weakness. Instead, he talked with his eyes. The dog stared back.
It was a look that took Carver’s breath away. He knew that stare. He knew that look.
He was there. He could see him.
It was Shrek.
Carver held out his hand. The dog gave him the towel then sat down at his feet and looked up at his new master.
“Specter, huh? That’s your new name?”
The dog’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he smiled a doggy smile.
“Hey, Carver. It looks like you’ve got a new friend,” Lucas yelled.
“No,” Carver whispered. “I found an old one.”
The dog agreed and put hi
s head into Carver’s hand. The SEAL rubbed the dog’s neck. If felt right.
Carver turned away as he started to tear up. Shrek was back.
The team had been reunited.
Specter
This is your new master, the voice says.
It is my father, one of the ancestors who give me the ancient memories.
He was my master, now he is yours.
I understand.
He is worthy of your trust and deserves your loyalty. Have faith in him and love him, just as I did.
I will.
I look up into the human’s eyes. He is the first one I’ve run across who can talk with his eyes. I understand why my ancestors were loyal to men such as this. The human commands respect. I will give it.
The man puts out his hand, and I give him the towel.
He continues standing but bends over slightly to speak. He doesn’t squat down next to me. That is a sign of weakness. He isn’t my equal. He is a master, someone to fight for and protect.
“Specter, huh? That’s your new name?” the human says.
Yes. I am Specter.
“Hey, Carver. It looks like you’ve got a new friend,” the trainer named Lucas yells.
Carver. I know that name.
I look up and smile my doggie smile. My eyes talk to him. He listens.
My father’s voice rings in my head. Go and be great. Just like all who came before you, and I will be here at your side. Always faithful. Always ready.
I look up at Carver. We are a team.
We will, Father. We will be the best.
A phrase comes to me. I somehow know it.
I tell Carver with my eyes.
I am Specter.
I am the ghost that kills in the night.
I always win.
It is just who I am.
o — o — o
Thanks for reading!
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Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I want to thank Nick Smith. For obvious reasons, this four-book series could never have been accomplished without his creativity and writing genius. I am honored to have been selected to contribute to the amazing world he created. Thank you, my friend.
Several talented people took the time to read drafts of this work. To Lisa and the Colonel, I am in your debt. Your insights and suggestions helped us smooth the rough edges.
Another big “thank you” goes out to our editors, especially Sara Jones. Sara’s unique background, along with her own writing skills, greatly enhanced the story. Many of the Southern California scenes in the book would never have been properly created without her knowledge of the area. She was invaluable in crafting the world that Carver and Shrek lived in.
To my wife. Our time together has been remarkable. Your support, invaluable. Our future will be special, and I am looking forward to the ride.
A special thank you to Blackstone Publishing for producing the audio version of this series. It is well worth listening to and I was thrilled to have Bronson Pinchot as the voice actor. He really brings the novels to life with his talented narration. I am privileged and grateful to have him tell Shrek and Carver’s story.
Finally, to you, the reader. I want to thank you. I crave your feedback. Please leave an honest review on Amazon.
In the future, I will be releasing several more novels. Topics include the continuation of my Charlie’s Requiem series, a story of a young woman caught in Orlando when an EMP destroys the country’s power grid.
The second book due within the year is The Forever Club. Using an advanced CRISPR breakthrough, a genetic researcher discovers the secret to restoring youth. He is murdered and it is up to Medical Examiner Annie Shaw and federal agent Luke Frost to find out who killed the brilliant scientist.
Finally, the untitled third book will feel like the Variant hordes you have come to love and hate. Decades in the future, a nuclear attack near a level-four biohazard facility releases radioactively mutated pathogens that spread across the globe. The contagions genetically alter both animal and plant life through a process dubbed adaptive devolution, creating monstrous changes in the planet’s inhabitants.
Some unaffected human survivors struggle to live in the altered world as both devolved animals and mutated humans battle for control of the planet.
It is a story of four orphaned teenagers that are adopted by the military. They are subjected to futuristic genetic enhancements in order to bring them on par with their enemies. They present the best hope for saving the human race from extinction. I have included one of the chapters. As the next few months progress, I will be taking input from my readers for help with a title to the book. Make sure you visit my website and sign up for the newsletter. I hope you enjoy this scene.
Aboard the USS Gerald Ford
Freeport, Bahamas
Fifty Years Later
The first thing Michael sensed as he began to regain consciousness was the chirping of the medical equipment. The high-pitched beeps of the heart monitor, along with the occasional buzzing sound that preceded the inflation of his blood pressure cuff, gently reminded him that he’d survived another treatment.
With his eyes still closed and his body motionless, the young man could sense the presence of someone nearby. He wasn’t sure if it was due to his prior procedures, ones that had enhanced his physical skills far beyond those of his fellow survivors, or something that was innately human. As far back as he could recall, he had this instinctive ability. Even when they did the first procedure on him almost twelve years ago, he remembered knowing that there was a silent presence in his room at the end of his surgery.
After ruminating on this mystery, Michael decided that it was just part of being human. It was that “sixth sense” that constituted recognitions and feelings which were not quantifiable, but almost always correct in their forewarnings. Most people had it to one level or another, and after all the enhancements he’d received since the start of his surgeries, Michael used his like he used his eyes and ears. Just another “gift” from a government that controlled his life.
He continued to lay still, allowing himself to feel the cool air blow across his face and exposed arms. He was in recovery, and his body felt like he had fallen down a twenty-step ladder. Everything hurt in a deep and primal way. Not something superficial, like a cut or bruise. This was a top to bottom, deep and radiating pain that went from his bones out to his skin. Given the procedures that they performed on him, it wasn’t a surprise that he was so sore.
“I wish we had the meds to take the pain away.” A voice said from Michael’s left. “You know I’d give it to you.”
“Hmmph.” Michael grunted.
Narcotics were in short supply. The poppy plants that produced the opioids had taken a terrible beating a couple of years back when a hurricane came through the islands and destroyed most of the crops. What narcotics had been produced back then were limited for use as a surgical anesthetic and were not being used for pain control.
The one pain medication they did have in abundance was a salicylate derivative that was culled from the large weeping willow trees which had been transplanted from the lost lands almost fifty years ago. The problem with this medication was that it caused bleeding. After a patient had surgery and wanted some pain relief, they had to negotiate a tight-rope act between avoiding the aspirin-like drug while wounds were allowed to clot or take the salicylate and actually risk death from an uncontrollable hemorrhage. From the dullness of the throbbing, it was evident that he had been given a good dose of the willow e
xtract. That also meant it was at least three days out from surgery, when the risk of thinning his blood was not as much of a concern.
“How long since the surgery?”
“Four days.” The voice said.
Michael tried to turn his head, but found it immobilized by a neck brace. When he tried to reach up and feel his head, he found that his arms were tied down as well.
“Hey. Take it easy. You’ll tear your sutures.” The man’s voice said.
Michael was still groggy from the sedation. At least the procedure had been painless. His post-operative maintenance doses had kept him unconscious for the first few days of what would have been agonizing pain.
He tried opening his eyes, but all he saw was darkness.
“I can’t see!” Michael cried, as he swung his head back and forth, trying to look at his companion in the room.
“You’ve got a bandage over them.” The man’s voice said with quiet confidence.
“Why?” Michael asked. “You weren’t supposed to do the eyes. Did something go wrong?”
“Quite the contrary.” The voice replied. “Your hot points went in quickly. So quickly, in fact, that we decided to do the eye enhancement as well.”
Michael settled down, letting his mind rest as he contemplated this unexpected bit of news.
“And?” Michael finally asked.
“Everything went perfectly.”
The unknown man turned and left the room, leaving his scent lingering in the air for Michael’s enhanced olfactory nasal bulbs to recognize.
As people went, the guy didn’t smell too bad. Michael would remember his odor and recognize him when he was eventually released from intensive care. Depending on the results of the surgery, he would either thank him, or break his neck.
Michael let his body relax. His procedure, another major enhancement, was supposed to implant controllers under his skin. They were bolted to his bones and joints. The scientists called them “hot points,” where external devices could be attached and controlled by Michael’s own nervous system.
Extinction Survival Series | Book 4 | Warrior's Fate Page 32
