Intended Extinction

by Hanks, Greg

  “Do you think any of these cars work?” asked Dodge, wandering away.

  “It’ll be a stretch,” answered Bollis, joining his friend.

  I only made it two steps before Tara grabbed my wrist.

  “Mark,” she said. “Hold on.”

  “We should probably get moving,” I responded, but her hand wouldn’t budge.

  “Mark, please.”

  I sighed, annoyed with her timing.

  “What is it?”

  “I know this isn’t the place to do this, but . . .”

  I took out my earpiece. “Tara, if this has something to do with what I asked you to do last week, it can wait.” I was referring to our poignant conversation after the Underbed incident—our reconciliation moment.

  “No,” she said sternly, yet retaining her innocence. “I just . . . Mark . . . something’s happening to me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I didn’t want to become frustrated with the only person I truly cared about in the world, but all I could see were the other three in my peripheral vision. And if Tara didn’t take off her helmet, Celia was going to ride us like . . . well, like Celia.

  “Mark . . . I feel like I’m starting to like this.”

  I stood motionless.

  “It sounds sick, I know,” she went on, “but I . . . I’m not bothered by . . .”

  “Bothered by what?”

  She removed her helmet and looked me in the eyes.

  “I’m getting used to killing people.”

  “I think we’ve reached that point already,” I said, confused.

  “No, Mark,” she pressed. “I’m . . . enjoying this. I can’t believe I’m saying this but . . . I think I like to kill.”

  At first I was confused. So what? That sounded appropriate for what our training had done to us. But the more I digested her words, I began to understand her plight. She liked killing? For a few seconds, I was a little freaked out. Images of our previous encounters with GenoTec flashed through my mind. I could see my victims in great detail, the moment before I ended their lives. Each and every one. I decided to listen.

  “I just—I get so involved with this mission,” she breathed, “and then two seconds later, I’m going insane from the change I’ve gone through—”

  “Tara,” I interrupted, honoring our timetable. I shouldered my rifle and placed my hands on her shoulders. “You’re the strongest person I know. I’m not worried about you. We just need to hold out a little longer. If we lose what humanity we have left, we become like Repik, or Celement. That’s what separates us from them—our true desires. Our motives. Our hope.”

  She straightened up, and nodded. “You’re right. I guess I’m overreacting—”

  “Hey,” I scolded gently, “I don’t need to remind you what we’ve gone through. Don’t start blaming yourself for what’s happening. We’re here for one reason now: Justin. Let’s focus on that and keep our heads up.”

  Her countenance switched from timid to upbeat. “Justin? That’s something I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

  I weighed the answers in my mind for a second. “I know . . . whatever. Obviously he’s not the only reason, but—”

  “Hey, love birds!” called Dodge. “Don’t mind us, we’re just on a life or death mission over here.”

  Before donning her helmet, Tara added, “Thank you. For listening. For doing this with me.”

  Her statement hit me harder than I think she realized. The words swarmed me, strengthened me. I understood that our relationship was no longer a budding flower. We had entered into a deep, rich, enduring pact. Authentic trust was forming a protective barrier around the two of us.

  I caught up with the group just as Vexin yanked the driver’s side door of a 2020 Subaru Impreza. Bollis jumped in and began to mess with some wires. As he worked, I checked the condition of my suit, running my fingers along fissures and dents. Despite the loss of my helmet, things seemed to check out. If it wasn’t for the suit—constricting and supporting—my body should have shut down hours ago.

  “You’re just full of surprises,” said Tara, observing Bollis.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” he replied, eyes locked to his work.

  After another minute, the car miraculously started and we piled in. I was pushed up against Dodge and Tara in the backseat, while Vexin wouldn’t be caught dead not having shotgun again.

  There we were: five adults sitting in a small, silver sedan, fully garbed in flexible armor, with weapons of great destruction in the trunk.

  “As much as I like these car rides,” said Dodge, “we should’ve invested in a helicopter or something.”

  I looked out the window, trying to focus. The car moved along the half deserted city, leaving behind the desecrated bridge. Nothing but moonlight paved our way as we tore across the old streets. With our headlights off, we hovered silently to our destination.

  When I told Tara I was here for Justin, I wasn’t completely honest. Yes, I would give myself in exchange for the boy’s life, but I was invested in this mission for another reason. Everyone had their motives—Tara had Justin, Justin had his parents, the rest had their own. And I knew why Vane wanted us here. I swear I knew the plan better than anyone else. Yet, after all the blatant causes, there was only one reason keeping me going. One way or another, I was going to find out why I ended up in this mess. I was going to figure out why GenoTec pinned me from the start—even if it meant killing a hundred more Volunteer soldiers.

  I rested my head and thought of our little group of five. We were worn. We were sleep deprived. We had been off Vax for a week. And still, we fought. I tried imagining all of us as kids. None of us would have guessed to become monsters. You never grow up expecting to become a trained killer. It just happens. Somehow, in a very strange way, I was glad.

  A year ago, suicide had been on my mind every day. I don’t know why I chose to live through Edge, or why it didn’t take me. It all just happened. I wasn’t claiming to be a great soldier, or even someone important, but if this planet needed me to release the truth, I would gladly give my life instead of taking it away.

  After crossing another bridge—this time uninterrupted—we made it into New Jersey. Another mile in, we parked the car, and found the ladder leading down to a maintenance road. Lining the entire edge of the city was a concrete walkway, fifteen feet down and ten feet wide. The slab gave us ample room to move around and provided us a clear shot to the outside base of GenoTec Headquarters.

  The next part was simple. Find the sewage tunnel and set two charges: one for the tunnel grate, and the other to gain entrance to GenoTec. Schematics, blueprints, and schedules filled my memory.

  “Well, you made it,” sighed Celia in our ears.

  “Celia, what’s the situation on surveillance?” asked Vexin as we huffed it along the slab.

  “You’re good, don’t worry. Everything’s looped. I’ve waited a long time for this moment; I can’t afford to make any mistakes. Just be careful with the grate—try to use as little explosive as you can.”

  “So they take our people and now you want to take away our fun?” said Dodge jokingly.

  “Just don’t blow our operation down the drain.”

  “Nice choice of words,” he responded.

  A half-mile down the embankment, the moon finally sent a white beam onto the behemoth before us. Reaching 72 stories, GenoTec HQ wasn’t necessarily the highest building, but it made up the difference in vanity. The building was cylindrical, with endless windows covering the structure. On every side of the building, large “G’s” adorned the curved walls at least twenty stories high, centered flawlessly. The wall before us cut off the rest of the structure, and continued to do so as we reached the grate. Maybe it was a good thing; every time I looked at it, I felt sick.

  “I see the sewer,” said Bollis, breaking into a run.

  When we caught up to him, the gaping mouth of the sewage tunnel opened to us. Water tinted green gurgled out of the tube
and exited into a short aqueduct that led to the Hudson. Bollis ripped off one of his pouches and climbed into the tunnel.

  “I’m just glad we can’t smell anything,” Dodge said, looking at me through his wonderfully concealed helmet.

  “Kinda smells like you,” I jabbed.

  Vexin and Dodge kept watch on either side of the sewer, while Tara and I made sure Bollis wasn’t going to send us all to the afterlife. He carefully wrapped strips of gummy explosive around the bars, making a box outline altogether. He finished, snatched the pouch, and jumped out of the tunnel.

  “Move,” he directed, pulling out a small, thumb-sized remote.

  Everyone backed up against the retaining wall and anticipated the small explosion.

  “Blowing grate in three, two, one.”

  From my angle, water and debris surged out of the opening and pieces of metal rode the current into the River. A metallic thump echoed from within the tunnel as the cutout fell to the ground.

  “One down, two to go,” said Dodge.

  We climbed into the dark sewer and sloshed our way into the bowels of GenoTec.

  The golden beams from our rifles cured our blindness. Footsteps rebounded off the circular walls as we approached our next goal. GenoTec conveniently decided to hold a renovation project on one of their storage rooms, located only feet away from the sewer. Our plan consisted of connecting the two.

  “How close Celia?” asked Bollis.

  “A few feet ahead and you’re golden,” she spoke.

  Bollis approached the correct section and withdrew his pack again.

  “Lights, please,” he said.

  The next few minutes were spent setting up the plastic explosives. I watched as Dodge and Bollis attached the adhesive, gray substance to the brick in the outline of a large oval. After finishing, Bollis held the same detonator in his hand and started to backtrack.

  Once everyone was out of range, he ignited the first round. After the dust cleared, a perfect hole was cut out of the bricks, their offspring crumpled below. With no intermission in mind, Bollis began to set the second batch of charges. The exterior of the basement level could be seen two feet away from our new entrance. He stepped over the threshold, into a small pocket of negative space between the basement’s exterior and the sewer.

  After everything I had been through, I could finally look upon this moment with my own two eyes. An entire month of memorizing schematics and floor plans had reached its fruition. I was staring into the belly of my destiny.

  “Okay,” said Celia, “their security AI has been disoriented, you’ve got like thirty seconds.”

  “Wait,” cautioned Vexin before Bollis set off the next ring of explosives.

  “What?” he asked.

  “We need to agree on something before we go in there.”

  “And that is?” asked Dodge.

  “If we can’t find Justin or Vane,” he said, “we have to assume they’re dead.”

  Things were quiet for a minute as we thought. It had been a week since they were taken. Whatever information GenoTec wanted was probably claimed by now. No matter how hard it was to accept, Vexin was right—we needed to focus on our actual mission. We were here to kill Jonas Repik.

  50

  SIX YEARS AGO

  “Val! Don’t! I look awful!”

  Valiant Davis laughed as he held the video camera, approaching from behind.

  “Oh, come on. How often do we get to come to Aruba?” he exclaimed happily, moving the little camera to the window, capturing the white beach.

  She rolled her eyes and approached him.

  “I still can’t believe it,” she said, letting down her frizzled hair.

  Weeks ago, Davis’ work received a bundle of surplus from the government, allowing members to take a vacation sometime in the fall.

  “Miracles happen, babe,” he said, shutting off the camera and setting it on the computer desk behind him. He turned to her and smiled wide. Her bangs were drifting over her eyes, sun bleached and a little damp from the swim they had taken earlier. She was skinny and short, with high cheekbones and green eyes that bled mystery. Her glossy smile was enough to send Val overboard. The only kind of makeup she ever wore was a light pink lipstick. She was a natural beauty, he had always said.

  “Val, when I married you,” she said as she put her arms around his neck, “I knew what I was getting myself into, but that shirt. Babe, come on.” She let out a chuckle.

  Val looked down at his fake islander buttondown, complete with front pocket and decorative flowers.

  “Ouch,” he joked, “my pride.”

  He smiled, realizing the shirt was indeed a little over the top. They kissed and embraced. After a moment, she spoke to him in a serious, thankful tone.

  “I love you, Val. I’m so glad we’re here.”

  He stood there for a minute, taking in the beauty, smelling her orchid and papaya perfume. He held his wife in his arms and closed his eyes. Then a thought occurred to him.

  “Kyla, if you really love me, you’ll let me have the last mango soda!”

  He broke the embrace and dashed toward the kitchen, laughing. She wore a mischievous grin on her face and chased him outside to the hammock.

  A few hours later, after a short trip to the market for some liquor, Valiant double-checked the bag before entering the vine-encrusted beach house. Have I gotten everything? Ever since joining S.W.A.T., his meticulousness began to consume him. Kyla usually never appreciated it.

  Finally satisfied, he went inside. The house was quiet. Kyla’s purse was set on the dining table, her shoes below.

  “Hey, I’m back.”

  The voice echoed throughout the tiny two-story abode. He waited for a response while unloading the bottles.

  “Kyla?” he called again, stopping to look around the corner of the room. Nothing. He walked the circle of the home, landing back at the kitchen. He looked out the window where the hammock and beach were. Nothing but a group of kids playing. Maybe she went for a walk—or she’s upstairs sleeping. He couldn’t help but allow his S.W.A.T. instincts to activate, observing every little detail in the home. He circled again, trying to find something out of the ordinary. I’m overreacting. I always do.

  A creak came from the floorboards above. He lifted his head and watched the ceiling. Another creak.

  Maybe she’s playing a game, waiting for me to come upstairs. Maybe she’s . . . no. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

  He quietly stepped over to the knife holder and withdrew the longest blade he could find. He stalked the base of the stairs and listened again. When silence gave him the green light, he removed his shoes and crept up the wooden stairs.

  Three rooms occupied the second level: the master bedroom to his left, one small bathroom straight ahead, and another bedroom to his right. With each step, Val ran scenarios through his mind. His options were limited with the knife.

  Two feet from the landing, another creak came from his left—the master bedroom. His muscled tightened and he drew a silent breath. With his back pressed against the stairwell, fingers knitted around his weapon, Val inched his head into the second-level corridor.

  He dropped the knife.

  Kyla sat in a lone chair in the free space of their bedroom. Her mouth was clamped shut by a single piece of tape and her arms and legs were tied to the chair. Her eyes told a story of fear; they were red and swollen, wide with helplessness.

  A portly man in a black suit stepped into frame with a suppressed, silver handgun pointed at Kyla’s skull. He had short, ink hair, a scruffy soul patch, and long, grizzled sideburns.

  “Who are you?! said Val, stepping out into the hallway.

  “Approach the threshold,” commanded the unknown man, his voice deep and rough, pushing the weapon into Kyla’s head.

  Reluctantly, Val came to the doorway. The rage filling his body wasn’t stopping for anything. “Why are you here? Answer me!”

  Another man stepped into view, white hair receding
, nose flared, with deep dark eyes and two scars on his cheeks. He wore a similar sport coat with an unbuttoned black shirt underneath. His footsteps made the floorboards creak beneath him. An identical silver pistol hung in his hand.

  “What do you want? Please, just let her go. We’ll give you everything we have!”

  The fat man’s gun was still locked onto Kyla. “It seems your wife has been digging a little too deep, Mr. Davis,” he said with a frank stare.

  Val met his eyes and tried to conjure some kind of plan. “What are you talking about?”

  “We’ve been monitoring her for the last month and a half. She’s gotten into things that she shouldn’t know about. She really needs to learn how to mind her own business.”

  Val wanted nothing more than to snap his neck. “Who are you?!”

  “You just don’t get it do you? Your wife has been very busy these past few weeks. Has she not told you?”

  Work? What is he talking about?

  “S-She works at GenoTec, what does that have to do with anything? Are you terrorists?” His wife’s eyes kept darting to one speaker to the next, sending shivers down Valiant’s spine every time he looked back at her.

  The stocky guy tilted his head. “We are GenoTec, Mr. Davis.”

  Confusion leapt into Valiant’s mind. “So my wife has found out your dirty little secrets and now you’re trying to shut her up? You’re pathetic!” He thought of spitting up at him, but refrained, for Kyla’s sake.

  The fat man dropped the weapon and approached Valiant. “No, you know what’s pathetic, Mr. Davis? The fact that she didn’t even tell you what she was working on.” He moved back in place and raised his weapon again.

  “Please! Don’t do this!” Valiant screamed.

  “It’s a shame you came home early. You weren’t supposed to be involved—but I guess surprises happen all the time. Just like that surplus money you got, huh?”

  Valiant squinted. “You?”

  “Everyone’s gonna love the headline, ‘deranged psychopath kills his wife in a secluded beach house.’ Now we can just add in how he went and killed himself.”

  “Please. Don’t do this.”