EMERGENCE Extinction (Emegence Series Book 5)

by JT Sawyer

  “Hey, maybe we can find that statue of Pocahontas and get a picture,” quipped Porter.

  Connelly shook her head while frowning. “Wrong Jamestown, Professor—you’re thinking of the city in Virginia that was one of the first English settlements in the New World. That’s where Pocahontas was at, and John Smith.”

  “Yeah, geez, Porter—didn’t those nuns teach you anything at the inbred religious school you went to?” said Nash, pretending he was versed in the history.

  “I only ever saw the Disney movie about Pocahontas when I was a kid, so that’s the extent of my knowledge on the matter.” Porter nudged Nash with his elbow. “More than you probably learned at that juvenile reform facility that your parents sent you off to after they realized Satan was missing one of his kids.”

  Gomez and Wexler muffled their laughs while continuing to glance down at the forested landscape below.

  “Disney—you watched Disney?” said Connelly. “Man, you’re pathetic.”

  “Probably sitting on the couch with his stuffed teddy bear and clutching his sippy cup,” said Nash with a chuckle.

  Porter gave them both a mocking glare. “Yeah, except my sippy cup was filled with 110-proof bourbon because they grew ’em strong down my way. Not like you two cupcakes, who probably had your first taste of peach Schnapps behind the gym bleachers after getting dumped at prom ’cause of your looks.”

  Reisner was resting his eyes while leaning his head against the back wall but let out a laugh after each comment. The banter reminded him of old times on previous missions abroad, when the group would crack jokes to offset the nervousness associated with the impending operation.

  “Hey, boss,” said Nash to Reisner. “You enjoyin’ the show over there?”

  “Always—it never gets old. Though I used to watch Disney movies with Jody when we were little, so I think Connelly just created an uneasy rift within our formerly cohesive group. I was worried something like this might happen one day.” He tapped Porter on the shoulder. “You better come sit over here with me and avoid those two from now on—they’re a little unrefined.”

  They all laughed, then they saw the pilot lean back, giving the two-minute warning to touchdown with his fingers. A veil of silence cloaked the group as their thoughts returned to what was about to unfold in the forests below.

  Back into the fray—again, thought Reisner, wondering if this was what it felt like for John Smith and the other early settlers disembarking into an unknown world.

  Fifteen minutes later, once they had made their way along a low ridgeline, Reisner stopped and removed the small, ruggedized laptop from his backpack and studied the UAV footage sent by Pacelle. The flyover encompassed the region of farmlands and countryside to the southwest of Jamestown.

  The rest of his team were fanned out in the woods to either side of his location. Nash was closest to him and leaned over his shoulder to examine the black-and-white footage.

  “No signs of hostiles in your immediate area,” said Pacelle through his earpiece. “There are at least two hundred creatures near the eastern edge of Jamestown, not far from the Santee River, but that’s two miles from where you’re located, and they appear to be scattered.”

  Reisner enhanced the UAV footage, homing in on a series of outbuildings and a large barn nestled in a treeline. “Satellite imagery indicated earlier that there were eleven people holed up on a farm a half-click from our location, but the UAV isn’t showing any signs of movement there.”

  “There was activity there three hours ago and no signs of exodus from the area, so they must be inside one of the buildings,” said Pacelle.

  “Copy that. We will proceed on foot and send up our small areal drones as we get closer so we can recon the area again.” He heard Andre sign off then he closed his laptop, sliding it back into his backpack before giving the hand signal to his group to proceed down the deer trail.

  “Since we’re almost seven weeks into the collapse of the world, you gotta figure anyone savvy enough to survive this long has to have some skills and a good, defensible perimeter,” said Nash.

  Reisner gave him a brief glance back over his shoulder, then looked down at the leaf litter on the ground. “Yep, and sentries, trailguards, mantraps, and more—that’s the part that always worries me now when we’re sneaking into someone’s turf.”

  Gomez chimed in from Reisner’s right. “When I worked briefly with U.S. Customs along the California-Mexico border, we were always on the lookout for fishhooks suspended at waist level, followed by another layer of defense shortly after that in the form of sharp rebar buried in the ground. That shit would pierce right through your boots and end the op.”

  “Anything else you guys want to add in as a confidence booster?” said Porter, whose eyes were glued to the path.

  “You mean you and your inbred hillbilly family didn’t have any of this security stuff set up around your moonshine shed in the backyard?” said Connelly.

  “My uncle had a still alright—used to make the best stuff in the county.”

  “But he got caught one day and that ended your binge drinking,” said Connelly.

  Porter grinned. “Nah, he was also the local sheriff, so there was never a shortage of liquid delight in the treehouse my brothers and I built.”

  “Fuckin’ hillbilly is right,” quipped Nash as the rest of the group chuckled.

  Reisner licked his lower lip while shaking his head, then he turned his attention back to the trail while giving the hand signal for silence. A quarter of a mile later, he pointed down at a series of scuff marks in the soil. He hoped it was just from a coyote dragging off its kill. As he squatted down to inspect the tracks, his senses prickled. This wasn’t from any animal.

  Chapter 18

  Abby’s head felt like it weighed as much as a bowling ball, and the throbbing in her temples made her wonder if she had suffered a concussion from the rock she had tripped on while trying to escape from the creatures a few miles from her farmhouse. It seemed like it was years ago as she fought to piece together the fragments of memories from that awful day. She could still see the blood-soaked faces of the two adults who had accompanied her on their morning hunt for wild game. The ravenous pack of creatures had shredded Mark and Jessica into unrecognizable piles of mangled limbs and viscera in minutes, but they had left Abby untouched. She waited for death to come but instead she was dragged off by one of the sickening beasts, who appeared to be in charge of the others.

  As Abby struggled to pry her crusty eyelids open, she caught sight of a black beetle crawling across a muddy trail strewn with old sassafras leaves. She recognized the shape of the three-pronged leaf from walks through the forest with her mom when she was little. Only this time, the leaves were trampled from the footfalls of many travelers who had recently passed this way, and the treetops seemed to be pointing at a downward sky. She felt her ribs heave and her chest strike against something bony, causing her to almost retch—or was the nausea from something else? She felt a gurgling sensation in her throat. And why does my head hurt so much? Is it because I’m upside down? And, holy shit—whose feet are those? She pulled her torso up slightly, peering at the backs of someone’s nearly translucent legs and bare feet as they carried her on their shoulder.

  She arched her back, craning her head up then trying to slide down from her perch as she saw the feet come to a halt. Abby felt someone grab her by the waist and lower her down. She smelled a sickly sweet aroma of something familiar as she moved past the neck and bare chest of the figure, and she thought she saw several thin rivulets of thread move under the muscles.

  “What am I doing here, and who the fuck are—” She paused, her mouth hanging open as she looked into the coal-like eyes of a tall person—or thing— Or God, one of them! She wanted to scream but suddenly felt a spasm of movement deep inside her neck. It constricted, causing her muscles to flinch, followed by a pleasing sensation of something warm coursing through her veins. Whatever it was erased any sense of fear and made
her feel like she weighed ten pounds.

  “He will not harm you,” said a man’s commanding voice. Her ears tried to triangulate the sound, but then she realized the words hadn’t been spoken aloud. She looked up at the sky, attempting to track down the location of the voice. She felt the pressure in her cervical region growing, compelling her to turn. As she pivoted around, Abby turned to face a square-jawed man with a smooth head and riveting gray eyes. It was the intention and presence behind the gaze that made her take a step closer to him, her mind feeling like it was being enveloped by a world far greater than the one surrounding her.

  Wait—am I even breathing? Her ribcage expanded, but it felt like the intake of air through her nose made its way directly to her cervical region. Her neck felt momentarily distended from the recent inhalation before the muscles relaxed. Abby reached both hands to her throat, her fingers palpating the trachea then moving to the upper trapezius as something fluttered beneath the surface.

  The figure before her spoke again, and this time she felt the voice in her mind as it opened into his. “You are one of us now—special and far superior to what you once were.”

  She felt other minds like hers coalescing, their unique voices and individual personalities merging into a network, whose river of movement seemed to flow towards the being before her. Why am I not afraid? What’s happening to me?

  Then she saw another boy come up on her right. He appeared to have the same dazed expression on his face as she suspected she had upon waking a few minutes ago. Abby recalled seeing him at school and thought his name was Terrance, but her ability to pull up memories from her past kept slipping away as another voice entered her head.

  Though names from our other existence do not matter, I was once called Roland. Since you seem to possess all of your intellect and some of your memories, you may call me by that name. He walked between them while looking over their features. Your complexion is not like mine, which will be useful—and there are no worms under your skin as there are in the others. He looked over at Aiden and smiled, motioning for him to bring over the backpack he was carrying. Roland reached inside and withdrew two small vials of clear fluid, handing one to each teenager.

  Abby narrowed her eyes, trying to decipher what was inside. Roland pressed it to her lips, and the aroma drew a guttural growl from Abby that made her eyes widen. God, I want it—now! She tore the vial from Roland’s pale fingers and ripped off the lid, breaking the glass in the process and slicing open her index finger. She didn’t care. Her vision suddenly constricted, and she felt herself gulping down the fluid while the red blood on her finger mingled with the clear liquid.

  She felt the sticky substance slide down her trachea then quickly stop, filling her throat. What’s wrong? She wanted to vomit, but the urge quickly disappeared as the fluid was rapidly absorbed. Something was throbbing wildly in her neck, like there was an electrical cord being dragged across her spine. Again, her logical mind kept wondering why she wasn’t terrified, but every time she felt like fear should be present, a wave of pleasure washed over her psyche. I must be asleep, having some kind of nightmare—this can’t be real.

  Abby felt at once repelled by and attracted to the creatures standing around her. With the liquid in her throat completely absorbed, she coughed, spitting up a few droplets of the fluid, which landed on a smooth brown stone by her feet. She saw a blur of movement as a smaller figure with only one arm and burnt skin rushed up and lowered its head while a beige-colored ribbon darted from its mouth, sucking up the small remnants.

  She could still hear Roland’s thoughts as he spoke to the other creatures standing around her. She, like the other one, will need to feed more often than we do, for they were not afflicted with the same illness that began our lives.

  Is that why the other three older ones were left behind? said a frail woman’s voice, which seemed to emanate from the charred creature to Abby’s right.

  Roland spoke again, the only voice Abby recognized. Yes, they were beyond adolescence; their glands were unable to produce enough hormonal nourishment on their own to sustain them during the transformation. Even these two might only last for a few months or years until their flourishing, young adrenal functions are depleted, which is why we need to locate the other child. He is like us, and the cancer currently coursing through his veins will transform him beyond perhaps even my abilities.

  The voices swirled in her aching head, the words colliding into the canyon of her mind. Abby took a step back, trying to process what was happening while wanting to run from the horribly disfigured female now standing before her. The thing raised up its one good hand, stroking Abby’s right cheek with her flaking, black finger then looking at Roland.

  So vibrant and strong, like I once was, said the female.

  “What are you?” Abby said aloud, her voice cracking from the residue of the delicious liquid. She held her throat, staring at the disgusting burnt apparition in front of her. “What am I?”

  Roland stepped between them. You belong to a much larger world and are part of a brood that spans the globe. Though you do not have my reach, your abilities will help all of us. Your life and ours are intertwined now, and you will never be alone no matter where I send you.

  Where he sends me? What the hell does that mean? She noticed her neck constrict again, and her worries disappeared. Abby felt in possession of her own will and thinking only as long as it complied with the other mind penetrating her being. She could still remember parts of her childhood, family, camping trips, life at the farm, and the coming of the virus that changed everything in her life, but she also felt like there was another appendage grafted into the fibers of her soul, like she was a small stream merging into the ocean.

  Roland extended his hand to the two teenagers. We must go now—there is one more place to visit before we leave this land for good.

  Chapter 19

  Reisner remembered Gomez’s time spent mantracking with U.S. Customs along the California-Mexico border and motioned for him to move up. The stocky operator knelt down to scrutinize the disturbance; it looked like someone had dragged a bundle of branches through the forest. He squat-walked forward, pointing to a faint heel mark on the left, then directed the muzzle of his AR to the outline of some diamond-shaped impressions on the right. “Looks like we’ve got two people dragging a third.”

  “But are the paras doing the draggin’ or are the people?” said Porter, nervously scanning the treeline.

  Gomez stood up and walked ten feet down the trail, deciphering the pieces of the puzzle. “Judging by the steady gait pattern, I don’t think these are paras—those things tend to meander more.”

  Reisner followed behind Gomez then bent over and retrieved a clump of hair, holding up the blond strands for the others to see. “Looks human to me.”

  Reisner moved past Gomez and continued slowly down the trail. His senses bristled with each step. Fifty yards later, they came to a transition zone where the forest met a small drop-off into a ravine. He could hear the crunching of bones amidst intermittent growls below. Reisner steadied his rifle and peered through the scope.

  “Lord, there must be twenty or more bodies down there,” he whispered as the rest of his team gathered around and peered below. Hovering around the mangled corpses of the dead drones were three black bears, eagerly tearing into the opaque flesh of the beasts.

  “This must be a disposal area to keep the bears away from the main farm,” said Porter. “When I was a kid, game wardens in the Smoky Mountains used to shoot the feral hogs there to reduce the population—only the bears got smart and instantly began associating the sound of gunfire with free food and would home in on the spot within fifteen minutes.”

  “A common dump like this would solve that problem and keep the bears away from a homestead out here.”

  Nash leaned in. “The previous census for this area indicated that there were only about a hundred people that lived around Jamestown. They probably fared better in these parts than folks i
n the bigger cities, especially given how many of them were farmers. They probably knew the wildlife well and were familiar with all the game trails, so they’d know how to elude the paras and probably just whacked the occasional straggler that came through here.”

  “It doesn’t sound like a bad idea to have bears roaming around your farm these days, chomping on those worm-riddled freaks,” said Wexler.

  Porter pulled his eyes away from the carnage below and scanned the sky. “Except they won’t care about distinguishing between us and the ghouls, and once bears get habituated to free food of any kind, they just keep coming back.”

  Reisner turned away from the grisly scene and continued back to the trail. “I hate to assume, but I’m guessing no one in the group has a suppressed rifle or they would have avoided any bear issues already and not had to resort to dragging bodies over this cliff.”

  Porter tugged on Connelly’s sleeve for her to follow, noting her fascination. “Damn, that’s both nasty and amazing.” She pulled herself away from the edge, looking at him with wide eyes. “I’ve never seen a bear before, and now there are three of them,” she said.

  “Yeah, but you gotta wonder if they’re going to get infected with parasites and become like Bearzilla.”

  “Shut up, Porter—that shit isn’t funny.”

  Reisner raised his fist for everyone to stop as Pacelle’s voice came over his earpiece again. “There are three people leaving the farmhouse and moving in your direction. They are approximately three hundred meters from your location.”

  Reisner relayed the message, then he split the team into two groups. He took Connelly and Wexler while Porter and Gomez went with Nash.

  “They’re veering off to the southeast now, heading towards a sizeable river,” said Pacelle. Reisner squatted down, removing the laptop from his pack and pulling up the same satellite images that Pacelle was viewing. Are you guys heading off to hunt paras or bears? I sure hope it’s the latter.