The Sixth Extinction America Omnibus [Books 1-12]

by Johnson, Glen

  Emma’s eyes were locked on the remains of the humans that had alien tentacled creatures growing from them. It was a horrific spectacle.

  Bachman scanned the dry deck shelter.

  “Maybe this can work in our favor,” he muttered.

  “What did you say?” Her breath steamed up the glass.

  Bachman moved away from the porthole and stared at the section where the delivery vehicles exited via the double hatches.

  “Before we would have had to drag those mini sub things onto the side of the submarine and drop them over the edge, with the chance of being seen. Now, if we are under the water, we can get out without being spotted. Plus the second hatch will fill with water, so we can simply float out.”

  Emma looked at the different delivery mini subs as her feet slowly slid along the deck.

  Some of the diving gear started falling off the hooks and clattered to the metal deck.

  “Then we’d better get suited up,” Emma stated as she moved toward the scuba gear as she kicked off her heavy boots. “Because I’m starting to feel like a pig on a spit!” She shook her head. “I would kill for a bacon sandwich right about now!”

  172

  Frank, and the others

  On the bridge leading to the mainland

  Somewhere in New York State

  The group started making its way through the infected gathered on the bridge.

  Frank hung back. He loathed killing anything, even if it was a creature hell-bent on ripping him to pieces. He held no weapon, so he relied on those around him. He stuck close to the King brothers.

  He had cut the hand off an innocent woman and ended her life. He loathed to touch a weapon again.

  “You shall not kill,” he repeated to himself as he scrambled to stay clear of the creatures.

  He zigged and zagged along behind the two muscular brothers, as if he was playing the game Frogger. Left then right. As blood sprayed around him, and infected bodies fell in droves.

  It is command seven of the Ten Commandments. The Book of Exodus chapter twenty, verse thirteen. Killing is detestable to our Lord. And God knows I’ve done enough killing in my past to last a lifetime. I could float a boat upon the blood I have spilled and sail away from this mess.

  Frank could see Naomi swinging her arms around, slamming into creature’s intent on feasting on her ample flesh. She shoved many over the side of the bridge, before they had chance to clamp their teeth down on her – she used her weight to her advantage and bulldozed them out of her way. The style was working well. She radiated anger – it was fueling her swinging arms and pumping her legs forward.

  Gunshots echoed around him as those with weapons used them rather than letting the creatures get too close.

  Only Naomi, who looked like she was on a personal vendetta, was using her body as a weapon.

  Frank was no stranger to drugs; his past life was riddled with incidents, and as a priest, he saw his fair share of teenagers hooked on whatever they could get their hands on. So he knew Naomi was in withdrawal, and she was channeling her anger and desperation.

  It dawned on him that he hadn’t had a gulp of alcohol in days! He licked his lips.

  I suppose we all have our own demons; he reasoned.

  “Father!” a voice shouted next to him, as a Billy club was forced into his hand.

  The woman must have seen the look on Frank’s face, as the rain streamed off his ginger beard.

  “It won’t kill them, just knock them down!”

  She has a point; Frank reasoned. Not every weapon is used to kill; some are made to incapacitate.

  Instead of dodging the next charging creature, he swung the hardwood short club across its deformed face. The infected naked man tumbled to the asphalt.

  He turned his head back as he continued to run. The creature was twitching on the ground.

  Still alive, he reasoned. They may be unholy, but they are still God’s creatures; he thought as he slammed the club into the face of another blood-soaked body that was charging at him.

  173

  Alex, and the others

  On the bridge leading to the mainland

  Somewhere in New York State

  Alex was aware that he was running low on bullets. He tried to save them for the close calls. However, when a raging, deformed naked human, covered in blood with bulging eyes and a wide maw of a mouth races towards you with clawing, twisted hands, the most basic instinct takes over and without thinking the gun raises to defend yourself.

  He was also having to jump over the bodies of dead creatures that those in front had killed, while trying not to slip on the surface water.

  The bridge was about a quarter of a mile long, and even though it wasn’t full of infected, they were still pouring across from the mainland.

  He raced past abandoned vehicles that echoed as water tattooed off the metal and tarp. He gave them scant attention, if they were capable of transporting them, one of the people they were following would have jumped aboard one, or they would have already been moved to the island. As it was, they were hunks of useless metal.

  There was a scream to his left as the two Shapter sisters fought their way through a clump of infected who were feasting on a downed companion. They finished slicing through the creatures as Sarah made one final slash, decapitating the woman who moments ago was fighting along side them – making sure she didn’t change. They were not going to end up with another Tish incident.

  These creatures only care about one thing – to eat. They don’t care about mercy, love, or forgiveness. Money means nothing to them. They are killing machines created to continue the spore’s advancement. Shells empty of humanity.

  Alex used the handle to slam against the side of a teenager’s face, causing the skull to collapse as it tumbled from the bridge onto the mud flats below.

  His chest was aching, and his legs were tiring. He had the worse case of cottonmouth ever, and his head thumped along with the beating of his heart.

  In front, Terrance and Lindell followed behind Naomi.

  The tree line was looming from the side of the lake.

  Not too far now to the mainland, he thought. Then what, two miles or so to the cargo ship, or so Smokie stated? Will I have to run the whole way? Will the road be filled with infected? Have I the strength? Where are they all coming from?

  Beside him, Donna tripped and went down hard.

  He stopped and turned to help her to her unsteady feet.

  “It’s so damn far,” she wheezed spitting rainwater from her mouth. Blood flecked her face and was matted into her blonde hair.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Together they continued on at the back of the group.

  “You okay Donna?” the woman in motorbike leathers asked as she pumped a cartridge into the face of a man who managed to get past everyone ahead.

  “I’m good, thanks Soozie.”

  “Hang in there babe,” she announced as she charged off ahead while slamming the butt of the shotgun into the side of an old woman’s head.

  “We are almost there,” Alex shouted to boost Donna on.

  Because her attention was drawn to the side, a creature used a stationary car to propel himself through the air, straight onto Soozie, making her tip to the side while fighting off the creature. Together they tipped over the side of the bridge, and in an instant were gone from view with just a spattering of blood, and a scrap of motorbike leathers to indicate anyone was ever there.

  That’s if any of us makes it across this bridge?

  174

  Terrance, and the others

  On the bridge leading to the mainland

  Somewhere in New York State

  Terrance swung the shovel into the face of an oncoming creature. It twisted and went down hard, with its face crushed.

  His arms ached, and his legs felt like lead pipes. In the gym, he could lift 225lbs easy, but he was never very good at cardiovascular exercises. If anything, his muscle mass was working against him.
>
  At least the creatures are thinning out; he reasoned.

  There was just a handful of infected on the last part of the bridge.

  We will soon be over.

  His brother shoulder barged a teenager over the side.

  Up ahead Naomi was leading the charge. Her arms swung like a windmill, constantly batting the infected away as if there was a prize just out of sight, and she wanted to be the first to reach it.

  Maybe she’s decided to commit suicide by infected – go out swinging?

  He had no other explanation as to her erratic behavior.

  Why charge the creatures with no weapon if you are not willing to concede you could be bitten or knocked to the ground? Running weaponless into so many was just madness.

  Maybe she has finally snapped?

  The prospect of Naomi losing the plot was ominous.

  She was bad enough when she was sane, he reasoned.

  He watched her charge and head butt a skinny man in the chest and then use her hands to toss it over the side.

  “Jesus!” Lindell said. “What is that woman taking?”

  “Whatever it is, I could use a dose right about now,” Terrance said in an out of breath voice that faded towards the end.

  A loud explosion from the island lit up the dull early morning in a vast ball of orange light. A wave of warm air washed over them.

  Terrance turned to see a ball of flame’s race heavenward – a huge mushroom cloud. He wondered what could have caused it. Gas bottles, or did someone make a last stand, taking out as many as they could with them?

  He quickly turned his attention back to the road.

  “Smokie said to follow the road, and it will lead to the cargo ship,” Terrance shouted to his brother.

  “I hope there are boats along the shoreline,” Lindell replied, as he hit a teenager with a metal pipe. “Because I’m too tired to swim out to the damn ship.”

  “Tell me about it,” Naomi shouted from up front, after obviously hearing their conversation. “Knowing our fucking luck; we’ll get attacked by a lost pod of killer whales.”

  175

  Tierra

  On the island in the camps medical hut

  Somewhere in New York State

  Tierra lay staring at the slanted corrugated ceiling. Her limbs felt numb, and her mind was cloudy. Her body sunk into the cot in the medical hut as if she was made from stone.

  The hut was small, just four thin wooden walls and a roof with a tall window. The single cot was pushed against a wall, leaving room for a small battered desk and a cabinet filled with whatever medication they could scavenge. Children’s paintings covered one wall, which had the paper curling at the edges.

  Tierra lay motionless.

  Her once beautiful hair was matted and dirty. Her body, once her pride and joy that made men pay good money to watch her dance, was bruised and cut. Her once perfect chocolatey complexion was now gaunt and ashen – stained with blood and tears and dirt.

  They gave her something to calm her down and sleep. However, it didn’t put her to sleep, due to the nurse injecting her from the wrong bottle because Tierra was thrashing around by the time they had carried her to the hut, with her shouting, she wanted to see her baby. Instead of sending her off to sleep, it simply paralyzed her.

  After the fussing people had left, all she heard was the rain on the hut’s metal roof, drumming away – a relaxing tempo.

  Dante loves the rain; she thought. He loves to splash through the puddles and kick the water high into the air. She remembered repeatedly telling him off for getting his clothes wet. There was no garden or park near their rundown apartment, she used to take him – on the rare days she was awake after a long night of dancing – to a small patch of grass three blocks over, where there was a playground next to a chain link fenced basketball court, and where most of the drug dealers left you alone if they saw you had children.

  She tried to smile at the memory, but her lips didn’t move. All that could move was her eyes that lazily stared at the ceiling.

  After about an hour of listening to the rain, she could hear someone enter the hut and rummage around in the drug cabinet. There was muted swearing and shattering of bottles. She couldn’t see who it was, and cared even less. After a few minutes, the person left.

  After another hour, there was some noise in the distance. Shouting and screaming pierced the early-morning air, drowning out the sound of the heavy pattering rain.

  Tierra ignored it all as the dull rays of dawn cascaded across the walls.

  He’s a good boy, Dante. Mommy’s little soldier. A real fighter. He must be close? she reasoned.

  She never let him out of her sight; she wasn’t going to start now.

  He’s here somewhere, sleeping, lying next to me.

  She strained her hearing, past the sound of the shouting and animalistic roars. She couldn’t hear her son’s steady breathing.

  I know I left him with the neighbor for longer than necessary, but I know now he’s my everything. We need to be together. He needs his mom.

  There was a shattering sound as the window crashed in.

  Where is my baby?

  She couldn’t feel her body move due to being paralyzed, but she could sense she was being tugged at.

  Dante? She wanted to whisper, but her lips wouldn’t move. Mommy’s here baby. It’s okay darling, go back to sleep. I’m here. You’re safe now.

  The tugging became harder.

  It’s okay baby. Listen to the rain. It’s so calming.

  She could hear heavy breathing and wet slapping sounds.

  Hush now baby. Mommy’s so, so tired.

  Her body started to jerk to the side.

  Its okay, moms here. Sleep baby. Sleep.

  The tugging became harder, and something warm splashed up across her face.

  Shhh, hush baby… hush.

  The rocking from side to side reminded her of a nursery rhyme she always used to sing to Dante to get him to fall asleep, in the days before she worked every hour sent.

  She had been lying still, unable to move for hours. The ability to speak was just returning.

  “Hush a bye baby, on the tree-top…” she whispered over the growling.

  The snarling intensified as she was tugged to the side of the bed.

  “When the wind blows the cradle will rock…”

  More blood splattered up across her face, and started running into her eyes. She still stared blankly at the ceiling as her vision clouded red as the blood pooled in her left eye socket, watered down by her tears.

  “When the bow breaks, the cradle will fall…”

  A bruised, twitching intestine flopped across her chest and neck.

  Teeth clamped down onto her chest, ripping into the left silicone implant, and then the frenzied biting moved to her throat and started to tear into her flesh.

  Her strength was fading as she bled out, while being eaten alive. She just had enough strength, and vocal cords left to finish the old memory.

  “And down will come baby, cradle and all…

  “Night Dante. Remember mommy loves you baby.” It finished in a bubbling gurgle, as the frenzied creature made its way up to her face.

  Then an explosion obliterated the medical hut, blowing everything away in a superheated blast of destruction, leaving behind only burning splinters, rolling dust, and fading memories.

  176

  Bachman and Emma

  Inside the submarines dry docks transfer hatch

  Zone 9

  The underground bunker

  Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania

  They stood inside the dry shelter’s exit hatch. They were donned in breathing gear and goggles. After rummaging through the gear, they both found diving boots that fit, and were much more comfortable than the boots they have been wearing. They took their boiler suits off and placed them in dry bags over their shoulders as the donned wetsuits. They would change back when they reached a safe location. They decided running around
in wetsuits would chafe and slow them down.

  The submarine was still turning.

  It was now upside-down. They had to continually sidestep to save them from tumbling into the metal hull. It wasn’t a painful experience, but if it continued, it would slowly drive them insane, due to never being able to rest. However, the turning sub was speeding up as it gained momentum.

  The diving gear was top of the range military apparatus; they had a communication device built in. The goggles were full faced, reminding Bachman of a waterproof firefighter’s mask.

  “We will have to wait for the sub to be upside down again,” Bachman stated as he continued to side step.

  He closed the hatch leading to what was referred to as the transfer hatch that led outside. After hitting a few buttons, he managed to start the water recycling process that slowly started to fill the exit chamber.

  Emma started to panic. It was a strange feeling, slowly side stepping as the chamber lazily turned, as the water level rose. Her breathing started to get heavier.

  “Try to stay calm. Nothings going to go wrong. This is state of the art equipment.” He didn’t mention he was just as apprehensive and scared.

  The freezing water was up to their knees.

  On the floor next to them was two mini SDVs. They opted for individual devices. They had to keep nudging them sideways to stop them from tumbling over due to the turning hull. It took a small lifting crane to slide them from their shelves onto the deck.

  As the water lapped over the metal mini subs, they didn’t float.

  Emma started to shiver, regardless of the thick wetsuit. It felt like she was slowly being frozen, starting from the feet up.

  Before long, the water was over their heads, and they floated in the transfer hatch. The mini subs were a little more buoyant when fully submerged. They had to wait for the submarine to be upside down again before opening the hatch below the waterline.