The Sixth Extinction America Omnibus [Books 1-12]

by Johnson, Glen

  Jesus! Where are they taking them? Outside the barrier, to be left for the Eaters? Or have they got somewhere they make them work?

  That could have been me! Alex thought as the realization of the situation sunk in. He didn’t want to know what they did with the females.

  He didn’t believe in the gods, or any higher power. Sometimes he wished he did, then he would have someone to ask to keep him safe, something to unburden on – to tell all his worries to. Whereas, in reality, he knew the only person he could count on was himself. It had been that way for decades. His father had been useless; he was used to relying on himself.

  Slowly, he headed down the empty street. He had a plan to distract the soldiers and get the others.

  54

  Terrance, Lindell, and the others

  Mole Town hospital

  A military installation outside New York City

  Where is everyone? Terrance was beginning to think that the group of soldiers that surrounded them when they first arrived, and those inside the tank and jeeps, were the only people within the town.

  Naomi had killed one, and the King brothers killed one each.

  Three down, but how many to go? Terrance wondered.

  Terrance was up ahead. His brother at the rear. They both held automatic weapons and all the bullets they could find on the bodies of the soldiers they had beaten to death.

  Jessica and Bonnie had a handgun each.

  Naomi complained, but she was suffering from a concussion, and not trustworthy enough to handle a weapon. She was just as likely to shoot someone who annoyed her. So instead, she had a section of metal pipe.

  Tierra wasn’t interested in a weapon, all she cared about was gripping her son in her arms for dear life. She would never let him go again. All the doubts about whether she was fit to raise him had vanished in the instant the soldier was about to toss him to his death. Dante was all she had left in the world. Dante was her world. For now, he was silent. The soldier lifting him in the air, then being dropped had caused him to go unusually quiet.

  They had to find the priest and Juan. Also to see where Phyllis and the Tanners were. Hopefully, Alex and Troy were safe somewhere.

  It would be difficult; everyone seemed spread out. It was the worst-case scenario. Too many people. Too many unknowns. However, they had to try. They couldn’t give up. If they did, people would die.

  They headed down the section of hospital that the others had marched Frank and Juan.

  This side of the building fared no better than the other. It was just as stripped of everything useful. Just as dusty and worn looking. The only difference was there was no one crying down this section.

  Terrance wondered what they should do about the others trapped here. Should they try to rescue them? Would they all fit in the truck? What would they all eat and drink, they were struggling as it was?

  They made it down one level without meeting or hearing a soul.

  The next level was the ER.

  They piled into the stairwell, looking through the small thick glass window.

  There were a few military nurses milling around. One soldier stood next to a reception desk. A group of males were lined up on beds, with drips in their arms – obviously sedated.

  Terrance didn’t want to run out, guns blazing. Stray bullets could kill innocent people, whose only mistake was turning off the main highway. Then again, they had no choice the town was a trap.

  “You all stay here; Lindell and I will sweep through the ER.”

  Bonnie looked like the heavy handgun was going to snap her thin wrist. Tears for her brother’s safety streaked her face. She was still shook-up from almost being raped upstairs.

  Jessica was eager to shoot someone. She wanted payback. Terrance could see a change in her eyes. If they hadn’t turned up in time she would have also been raped, and who knows what else. The realization had, in a sense, opened Jessica’s eyes to the seriousness of the situation. She was no longer a bystander, watching from a distance. It was now affecting her on a personal level – a physical level.

  Naomi kept leaning back against the wall, closing her eyes. Lindell would shake her awake, telling her she had to keep alert.

  Naomi muttered some rude reply that Lindell had learned to ignore. He wondered what her story was, why she was so aggressive towards those trying to help her?

  Lindell waited a few minutes to see if any other soldiers appeared down the hall. None did. They had to move, had to do something. The longer they waited the bigger the chance of being caught.

  Those who dragged the Priest and Juan away obviously heard the gunfire. Did they presume it was the soldiers shooting the females? If that was the case, and no one came to check why they were shooting people, then that must be the norm. Killing was routine. Gunfire didn’t make people come running because they presumed only the soldiers have weapons.

  However, that was up in the wards. Would someone come running if weapon fire echoed around in the ER section? Lindell thought.

  Those behind him were becoming restless.

  “What if someone comes down the stairs,” Bonnie said, trying to whisper loudly.

  “For fuck sake, let’s just go shoot them fuckers,” Naomi said, as she was leaning against the wall with her eyes shut and her hands gripping the metal bar that was resting across her wide shoulders. “We have the element of surprise. For now. The longer we wait the more chance that we will get caught.” Her bruise was getting larger, and her left eye was slowly closing over. The blood was congealing. The left side of her face was covered in blood. It looked like some kind of tribal war paint.

  Lindell knew she had a good point.

  “My brother and I will sneak down the corridor. Bonnie and Jessica, both of you are our backup. Stay hidden until you feel you have no choice. And if you see anyone who’s not us, shoot first, ask questions later. Ok?” He looked at them all in turn.

  Jessica had revenge in her eyes.

  Bonnie looked worried. Her brother was out there somewhere. She hoped he would be okay.

  Naomi was stood up smacking the metal bar against the palm of her large hand.

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” Naomi muttered through clenched teeth.

  55

  Troy

  Mole Town in the truck

  A military installation outside New York City

  Alex had been gone only a few minutes when two soldiers headed down the street. They were walking casually, chatting between themselves. It looked like a routine patrol. Troy wondered why they needed to patrol inside the barricaded town?

  He crouched down as far as he could, while still being able to see the men in the side mirror. The weeding knife rested on the seat next to him. He gripped the gun with a sweaty hand.

  They didn’t look like they were in a rush. No alarm had been sounded. They looked bored and ambled at a slow pace.

  Would they check inside the cab? They have no reason to. Why would they, he argued in his head? Panic was setting in.

  They had walked from the direction Alex had disappeared towards.

  Obviously, Troy decided; he managed to sneak past.

  His hands were sweating so much the gun slipped. He almost dropped it.

  It’s during times of stress that he missed his wife the most. But in a way, he was glad she didn’t get to see how the world had turned out. She was such a peaceful, loving person; simply watching the news made her sad, and worried what direction humanity was heading in.

  Troy shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to ponder on life’s curveballs. He was dealt a hand; now he had to live with it, regardless of how painful it was. When the time was right, he would go and join his wife. However, he wanted it to be on his terms, not anyone else’s. When he faced his wife again he wanted to see pride in her eyes, not disappointment.

  He watched the two soldiers get closer. They weren’t looking around or checking anything; they were simply walking a scheduled route, one they had walked hundreds of times. Th
ey were operating on autopilot – muscle memory. They were more interested in their conversation than what was happening around them.

  The gun shook in his hand. His wedding ring rattled against the metal.

  He could hear their conversation, coming through the window all muffled and droning.

  Troy knew what the army was like, the tediousness of routine. He served for nine years straight out of school. He wasn’t good at any subject; he had no outstanding qualifications. He was just one of millions of school kids who had no job to go to, and no prospects. He needed a job and wanted to get out from under his parent’s roof. The army was perfect. You didn’t have to be special, or particularly any good at anything, all you had to do was be able to pick up a weapon – they always needed cannon fodder.

  He didn’t even get to use a weapon; he drove. Trucks, tanks, jeeps, anything with wheels or tracks. When he left the army, he had licenses to drive all types of vehicles. He started driving trucks for a living, and never looked back. He enjoyed the open roads and endless vistas. He felt closer to Sonja when he was surrounded by fields and mountains. That all ended eight months ago when he had to take a job down at the docks when the company he had worked with for over a decade had to let him go, due to downsizing, because of the recession.

  He was practically in the foot well on top the pedals.

  Troy could hear the soldier’s footfalls, as their boots marched passed.

  Shit! Troy just realized his breath was steaming up the inside of the windshield.

  He held it, hoping the soldiers weren’t looking over. They would surely notice misted windows?

  “Hey, what’s that?” one soldier stated in a loud voice.

  Troy’s heart jumped up into his throat.

  56

  Doctor Bachman

  Underground military facility

  The pod chambers clean room

  Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania

  Bachman was putting on a type II hazmat suit. He hated putting them on, there were so many layers.

  Doctor Tracey stood with him in the biological containment holding room – a sealed chamber between the viewing room and the large area the pod rested.

  Bachman stripped out of his everyday clothing, dropping them into a pile, down to his green boxer shorts and black socks.

  First, he pulled on a one-piece Nomex jumpsuit that fastened tight with Velcro around the wrists and ankles. The jumpsuit was fireproof in case of a flash fire so the plastic outer suit didn’t stick to the skin. The suit was snug; making it feel as if someone was trying to castrate him. The long zip went right up to his chin.

  The second layer is a thin white Tyvek suit. The disposable suit is impermeable to most chemicals.

  He started to feel restrained with each new layer, as if he was being wrapped up like an ancient mummy.

  The SCBA, voice-activated radio clipped onto a harness that went over the shoulders and around the waist. He then pulled on Tyvek booties, then an inner pair of Silver-Shield chemical protective gloves over the top of a pair of latex surgical gloves. Then with Doctor Tracey’s help, he pulled on a cooling vest, which holds simple ice packs – water frozen in flat containers that pushed into pockets on his chest and back. A knife is then strapped to his side, in case he has to cut his way out of the outer suit.

  All the while, Tracey said nothing, he simply helped. He already tried to talk Bachman out of going inside. Tracey called General Gordon. The General was on his way.

  The air tank was strapped on to the harness, and joined up. Then the mask was pulled on.

  Together they put on the outer layer.

  The level A, dozen-layered protective, encapsulated suit was an orange inflatable one-piece outfit. Once on it inflated like a balloon. There is an exhaust port just over the right breast that allows used air to escape, but that is all, everything else – body heat and sweat – is held inside. They weren’t made for longtime usage.

  Tracey ran a finger over the yellow zip to check it. He then stood back to scan to see if everything was sealed and in place.

  Bachman was unrecognizable. He was now covered in a large, bright orange, inflated, one-piece suit. There was a large plastic viewport, that showed someone inside whose face was hidden by a large breathing mask.

  Tracey put thumbs up. The radio to communicate was up in the viewing room. Bachman squeezed the thick gloves into thumbs up.

  Tracey walked over to a wall unit. He scanned his hand against the machine. A thick glass door hissed open.

  With a nod, Bachman stepped into the large fumigable transfer hatch with his thick rubber boots.

  Tracey closed the door and exited the room heading up some steps back into the viewing chamber. There he flicked a few switches to recycle the air in the fumigable transfer hatch, which then sprayed a fine white mist over the Doctor.

  The door slid open and General Gordon, followed by four soldiers and some scientist in lab coats, entered.

  “What the hell is going on?” the General hollered.

  Bachman stared out the mask and through the view port, as white mist drizzled against the plastic. He was getting warm, regardless of the cooling packs. The inside of his mask was also steaming up.

  Then after a muted beeping, the thick glass door connecting to the pod chamber slid open. Bachman stepped through.

  57

  Terrance, Lindell, and the others

  Mole Town hospital

  A military installation outside New York City

  Just as Lindell and Terrance opened the stairwell door, a commotion broke out. The soldier by the desk ran toward the exit, followed by the two nurses. Another soldier appeared from around the corner, following the others.

  Terrance looked at his brother.

  Lindell shrugged his shoulders.

  It was an opportunity too good to miss.

  They jogged down the corridor. To either side were males of all ages on emergency beds, all with drips in their arms. Together they ran along ripping the intravenous catheters out. It would take a while for the morphine to leave their systems, but given time, if they had time, the men would slowly come around, which would cause a distraction at least, and at best enable the men to escape.

  Lindell found Cody. He was attached just like the others. Lindell pulled the tube from his arm. The catheter pulled free, leaving a bead of blood around the bruise.

  Terrance found Abigail with Phyllis, along with another old woman. They were all in a side section, lying on flat metal gurneys. The three were unmoving and their skin graying, with slack jaws. They were dead.

  Shit!

  Terrance wanted to slam a fist against the wall, but feared he would alert someone to their presence.

  They all had drips in their arms that had run dry. It stated on the saline bags that they were mixed with Pentobarbital – a drug used on death row inmates. They were euthanized. They were probably seen as a waste of time and space – too old or too sick.

  Terrance used their blankets to cover over their faces. That was the best he could do. He had the living to worry about.

  It did make him wonder why they were keeping the males alive if they obviously had no qualms about killing? However, now wasn’t the time or place to ponder other people’s actions.

  Terrance turned and noticed Bonnie stood behind him. She held her hands over her mouth, with the gun pointed to the ceiling. She had obviously seen them before he pulled the blanket over them. Tears flowed down her cheeks, making her look even younger. She was probably thinking her brother was lying in a bed just like this one – dead.

  Terrance held a finger to his lips, to stop her from speaking or screaming out. He wasn’t sure why they were in the corridor; they weren’t needed at the moment. Then he realized why. Naomi was striding down the hallway, having become bored with waiting. She was using the metal bar to pull open the curtain divides to peek inside.

  Terrance noticed an arm waving. It was his brother. When he crossed the hall, he found Lindell pulling ca
theters out of the Priests and Juan’s arms.

  Luckily, the two were just dozy. The morphine was just entering their systems. Until the morphine kicked in, they had been strapped to the beds.

  Bonnie ran and hugged her brother, almost choking him.

  Juan was cross-eyed, but he was fully aware. He snatched the gun from his sister. He had murder in his glazed eyes.

  Altogether, they pulled sixteen drips from men’s arms.

  An angry Jessica and a wobbly Frank helped Cody, with an arm over each shoulder while dragging his feet along the floor. They had no choice but to leave the others behind.

  Terrance and Lindell were just deciding on what direction to head, when they heard a grasp.

  “Jesus!” Naomi stated. She stood looking out a window at the road, unconcerned with being seen. She was looking in the direction the soldiers had run off. Opposite, a large building was engulfed in flames with smoke billowing into the cloudy sky.

  58

  Alex

  Mole Town

  A military installation outside New York City

  Alex squat behind a large blue mailbox. In the distance, he could see the flames licking out the shattered shop window. Smoke churned out after them. He had set the fire as a distraction. It was working. He hoped no one got hurt.

  It was a clothing store. He heaped a load of coats and shoes into a pile, tipping over racks of what was left from when people rioted. He had a lighter in his pocket. He didn’t smoke, but he knew fire was important. It was one of his fathers old Zippo lighters; it had a flush of cards printed down the side – his fathers lucky gambling lighter.