Extinction War

by Nicholas Smith

  The primary pilot of the King Stallion replied almost instantly. “Thirty minutes, Ghost One. As soon as we’re in position, we’re going to make a quick descent to avoid any potential hostiles in the air.”

  “Roger that,” Fitz replied. He twisted in his seat for a final briefing—and, more important, a final chance to check his team. Everyone wore the same anxious look, and Fitz didn’t blame a damn one of them.

  “Look, I know what you’re all thinking about this mission, but we have a job”—Fitz corrected himself—“no, we have a duty to give this all we got. A lot of lives are riding on the line again.”

  Rico stopped chewing her gum and said, “I’ve heard that line before.”

  “Yeah, I know, Rico. We were told the same thing last time, and the coordinates that we sent up the food chain ended up making things worse. That’s why we’re out here again. This is our chance to make up for it.”

  Rico shrugged, signaling that she accepted his answer. Stevenson, on the other hand, let out a huff.

  “When I was reassigned to Team Ghost, I didn’t realize I was signing up to be cannon fodder,” he said. “I’ve nearly died on the past two missions, and it’s all been because of faulty intel from the EUF. And I still have yet to see one of those fuckers.”

  Tanaka shot him a cockeyed look and then glanced at Fitz. “I thought we all volunteered for Team Ghost?”

  “Not everyone,” Fitz said.

  “Apollo didn’t volunteer either,” Stevenson said. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, bringing an animal into—”

  Fitz twisted around so he was looking Stevenson in the eyes. “Sergeant, you’re starting to get on my nerves. Apollo is a trained warrior, and he understands more than you think. I don’t see him complaining.”

  Apollo wagged his tail and licked Fitz’s hand.

  “I know, boy. Stevenson is sorry,” Fitz said. “Right, Sergeant?”

  Stevenson folded his muscular arms over his tactical vest and nodded. Before he could open his trap again, Fitz continued the mission briefing.

  “The pilots are going to put us down close to where the dirty bombs were dropped. The radiation has a very short half-life, unlike the fallout from a nuke, and it should already be at minimal levels by now. But we have CBRN suits and a Geiger counter just to make sure.”

  Dohi pulled the device from his rucksack and held it up wordlessly.

  “Once we’re on the ground, Dohi and Apollo are going to track down this missing army,” Fitz added. “We’ll determine its location, relay the coordinates, and then call in our evac.”

  “Maybe I’m a dummy, but how the hell did an entire army go missing?” Stevenson asked. “And wouldn’t it make more sense to use drones or aircraft to find them?”

  Fitz sighed inwardly while Tanaka explained.

  “You were hit pretty hard in your thick head back in Greenland, so you missed out on some stuff, including the fact that we already tried using drones and aircraft. Here’s the deal—we’re low on fuel, ammo, and boots. Think back to World War Two, when my grandpa was using this sword.” Tanaka reached back and gripped the handle of his Katana, pulling it out just enough for Team Ghost to see the blade.

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Stevenson said. “We’re cannon fodder, just like the doughboys were.”

  Fitz shook his head. Stevenson had a real attitude problem.

  “Let’s wrap up all final gear and weapon checks,” Fitz said. “Once we start the descent, things could get hot. I want Tanaka up on the big gun just in case there are any Reavers in the area.”

  “You got it,” Tanaka said. He moved into position under the hatch access that opened to the turret and the M240.

  The comms crackled with a message from the King Stallion’s pilots.

  “Ghost One, Raptor Two. I have a visual of the park.”

  Fitz leaned closer to the window for a look at their target. The checkered fields were gone now, replaced by the edge of a dense forest.

  “Ghost One, I have eyes on a fire at two o’clock,” reported Raptor Two. “Looks pretty big.”

  Fitz could vaguely make out the blaze through the thick cloud cover. It appeared as a glowing ball to the east. He realized the MATV wasn’t passing through a storm cloud—they were flying through smoke haze.

  “Beginning the descent,” Raptor One said.

  The MATV dipped slowly, the cords that tethered it to the King Stallion groaning. Fitz looked up at the roof, his heart rate spiking.

  “Easy, Raptor One,” he said. “Take us down slowly unless you got eyes on hostiles.”

  “Roger that, Ghost One.”

  Rico gripped the steering wheel with her tactical gloves. “That shit’s gonna hold, right, Fitzie?”

  He dipped his helmet in acknowledgment even though he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t had much faith in engineers or scientists since the hemorrhage virus had escaped Building 8. Every time they said something was impossible, it seemed to turn around and happen anyway.

  As they descended, the smoke choked out the view, shrouding the vehicle in darkness.

  “I can’t see shit,” Rico complained.

  “Hopefully the Reavers can’t either,” Stevenson said. “You sure I can’t have a piece of gum?”

  The groaning of metal echoed in the MATV as they dipped toward the ground. For several minutes, Team Ghost remained silent and still.

  Rico looked over her shoulder and then tore a fresh stick of gum in half with deliberate care. She placed them side by side to see which was bigger, looked over her shoulder again, apparently to make sure Stevenson wasn’t looking, and then handed the bigger piece to Fitz.

  “Here,” she whispered.

  Fitz almost turned her down, but he could see that it meant something to her. He put it in his pocket. “Thanks. It’ll be my lucky charm.”

  “Almost clear,” said one of the pilots over the comms.

  The thick smoke suddenly lifted. Fitz finally got a view of the forest that Mira, the leader of the Ombres, had warned him about. For miles, the trees were flattened as if a tornado had whipped through the area.

  But Fitz knew this wasn’t natural. Command had listened to the French woman after all. The dirty bombs and a second attack of Hellfire missiles had destroyed the terrain, leaving behind a smoldering graveyard of trees.

  Fitz heard more than a hundred aircraft from the EUF had taken part in the raid, which was still small compared to some of the bombing runs of World War II.

  Rico chewed her gum slowly as she studied the park. “Everything I always wanted to see in Europe is ruined.”

  “Better get used to it,” Tanaka said.

  The comm line crackled with a message from one of the Apaches. “Raptor One, this is Arrow One. Sky looks clear, no sign of hostiles.”

  “Fox One reporting clear skies too,” said the other Apache pilot.

  Fitz looked down, expecting to see corpses, but all he saw was a bed of sparkling embers in the cooling, likely radioactive dirt.

  “Arrow One, Fox One, can you get lower to check for any crispy critters down there?” Fitz asked.

  “On it,” Fox 1 replied.

  The Apache swooped down and out of view. Meanwhile, the King Stallion’s pilots lowered the MATV toward a road that wound through the devastated landscape like a dry riverbed through a lava field.

  The cords tightened on the front of the vehicle, coming taut right before Fitz’s eyes.

  Please hold, baby, please hold. He didn’t want his team to see his anxiety, but he couldn’t help but clench his jaw.

  “Ghost One, Fox One—I got eyes on what look like corpses, but I don’t see anything moving down here.”

  “Copy that,” Fitz replied. “Put us down, Raptor One.”

  The big gray bird lowered the MATV toward the road framed by burned trees. Rolling hills dotted the horizon, providing a refuge for small islands of forest that had been spared from the fires.

  “Get ready, Ghost,” Fitz said.

  The
click of magazines being palmed into weapons and final gear checks sounded all around him. He checked his helmet strap, tightened it, and then did the same to the straps on his blades.

  The charcoaled ground rose up to meet the tires of the truck, and a moment later they connected with the dirt. The King Stallion’s pilots set them down as gently as possible, allowing Rico plenty of time to start the vehicle before the helicopter detached the cords.

  “Ropes away,” said Raptor 1. “Good luck, Ghost. Call us when you need evac.”

  “Stay safe,” Fitz said. He ducked down to watch the big gray bird and the two Apaches pull away, leaving Team Ghost alone in the devastated landscape.

  “Stevenson, do a thermal scan,” Fitz ordered. “See if anything’s alive out there.”

  Fitz climbed into the back seat and began putting on his CBRN suit while Stevenson moved from window to window with his thermal scope.

  “I don’t see anything besides the heat from the fires,” Stevenson said. He moved into the passenger’s seat and checked the windshield next. “Nope, nothing alive out there. Pilots were right.”

  “Good,” Fitz said. “I’m going to detach the ropes so we’re not dragging them behind us. Dohi, get a reading with that Geiger counter. The rest of y’all, cover us.”

  The other members of Ghost prepared their weapons while Dohi and Fitz changed into their suits.

  “Stay put,” Fitz said to Apollo. The dog whined but sat back down.

  Rico helped Fitz secure his helmet. Her hands lingered for a moment, and she looked into his eyes.

  “Be careful,” she said.

  Fitz patted her hand. “I will,” he promised.

  He took in a breath and made sure everything was tight before reaching for the door handle. Dohi finished putting on his gear and grabbed the Geiger counter. He nodded at Fitz, who opened the door and stepped outside with his M4, blades crunching over the hardened dirt. He quietly closed the door and did a sweep with his rifle.

  Blackened trees protruded out of the drab landscape. The bark of the once towering maples, oaks, and spruces was burned, and their leaves had all turned to ash. Their naked branches swayed gently in the wind, creaking eerily.

  To the north, the forest fire continued to spread, clogging the already gray sky with impenetrable smoke. It was hard to believe anything could have survived out here, but he got the sense that something was watching them.

  Fitz hurried to the front of the vehicle and unfastened the cables while Dohi turned on the Geiger counter. The device began to tick. A flake of ash landed on Dohi’s helmet. He brushed it away, leaving a black streak. It was coming down like snow from the dark sky.

  By the time Fitz had finished unlatching the ropes, the Geiger counter was quiet again. Fitz coiled the steel cords and met Dohi at the back of the truck.

  “Command was right,” Dohi said. “Radiation’s minimal.”

  “First good news I’ve heard in a while,” Fitz said. “To be honest, I half expected this place to be a radioactive night-light.”

  Dohi shrugged and began to stow the Geiger counter back in its case.

  “Let’s get back inside before our luck runs out. I’ve got a bad feeling something’s still out here.”

  Dohi slowly turned to scan the terrain. “Don’t see anything.”

  “Come on,” Fitz said. They were walking over to open the back door when a voice rang out behind them.

  “Hey!”

  Dohi and Fitz whirled and aimed their weapons at a head peeking around the back end of the truck. The person pulled back, taking refuge behind the bumper.

  Fitz flashed a hand signal to Dohi. Dohi turned and moved toward the front of the vehicle to flank the contact, while Fitz slowly walked to the back. When he got there, he found a figure crouching under the bumper.

  He bent down to see a teenage girl wearing camouflage fatigues that were too big for her.

  “What the hell are you doing out here?” Fitz said, lowering the barrel of his M4. He crouched for a better look, recognizing her as a member of the Ombres. But how was that possible?

  Fitz reached down to grab her. “Get out from under there.”

  Dohi moved in from the other side, and the girl crouched lower, staying out of their reach. Her brown eyes flitted back and forth. She was trembling, but Fitz could see it wasn’t from fright. Her teeth were chattering … from cold? Had she hitched a ride on the back of the MATV?

  He glanced at the vehicle’s storage area, where a tarp hung loose from the gear.

  “Holy shit,” Fitz said. “Were you back there this entire time?”

  The girl nodded.

  “Come on, kid,” Dohi said, holding out a gloved hand.

  Rico opened the back door and poked her head out. “What the hell is going on out here?”

  Fitz motioned for Rico to come out. He figured the girl might respond better to a woman. Rico gasped when she saw the girl.

  “Don’t think she speaks much English,” Dohi said.

  The girl brandished a knife and said, “I speak it better than you.”

  Rico got down on her knees and extended a hand, but the girl ignored her too.

  “Come on, kid, it’s dangerous out here,” Fitz said. “We need to get back inside the truck, where it’s warm and safe.”

  The girl’s eyes flitted from face to face.

  “Come on,” Fitz said forcefully.

  She looked at him and replied, “I’m not a kid. My name’s Alecia and I’m here to fight with you.”

  The girl sheathed her knife, and then wriggled out from under the MATV at last. Fitz eyed the blade and the pistol holstered on her belt. Both weapons were almost as big as her forearms.

  “Looks as if we have a new member of Team Ghost,” he said with a sigh.

  “They’re all dead.”

  Hearing the voice of Captain Rachel Davis should have been a thing to celebrate, but nothing President Ringgold had heard the captain say so far seemed worth celebrating. Ringgold stood between Captain Konkoly and Kate in the cramped radio room aboard the USS Florida, where they had just made contact with Captain Davis. Ringgold still couldn’t quite believe it.

  “Is this frequency safe?” Ringgold whispered to Konkoly.

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s encrypted.”

  Ringgold cleared her throat and leaned down to the mic. “Captain Davis, this is President Jan Ringgold. I’m truly sorry to hear about your crew.”

  There was a long pause before Davis replied. “I had to kill them.”

  Ringgold exchanged a worried look with Kate.

  “They were infected with the virus,” Davis continued.

  “Captain, are you in control of the GW?”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m in control,” Davis said. “The ship’s disabled. It’s not going anywhere, and I can’t bring any of the weapons systems online. We blew a hole in the side with C-Four a few days ago. The attack resulted in the destruction of several missiles loaded with the hemorrhage virus on the deck. Every surviving member of my crew and the ROT soldiers who had commandeered the craft were infected.”

  “My God,” Kate whispered.

  “I’ve cleared the ship, but there are juveniles in the area. They’re … changing.” Davis paused again, and her voice broke from what sounded like a sob. “One of them got Lance Corporal Diaz. I couldn’t save her. It’s just me now.”

  The pain in her voice made Ringgold’s heart ache. “You’re alive, Captain; that’s what matters right now. We need you to stay focused,” Ringgold said in her most presidential voice.

  Konkoly motioned for the mic. “I need to ask her a few questions.”

  “Go ahead,” Ringgold said, relinquishing her spot.

  “Captain Davis, can you account for all of the hemorrhage-loaded missiles?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. I did a check,” Davis replied. “None of the missiles are missing, but several of them were damaged in the explosion.”

  Kate squeezed next to him and whispered, “Ask he
r how she’s protecting herself from infection.”

  “Have you taken the proper precautions to protect yourself from potential infection?” Konkoly asked.

  “I’m being cautious, sir.”

  “Ask her—”

  “Doctor Lovato, please,” Konkoly said.

  Kate elbowed Konkoly out of the way, and Ringgold bit back a smile. “Captain Davis, this is Doctor Kate Lovato. Are you sure all of the infected are dead?”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “Have any of the infected made it out of the area?” Kate asked.

  There was a short pause, and then: “I don’t think so.” Davis paused again and then added, “Actually, Lance Corporal Diaz and I did see an ROT helicopter land on the deck of the GW. They took off shortly after landing. I’m not sure if anyone who made it into the troop hold was infected or not.”

  Kate shook her head and looked back to Ringgold. “Chicago, New Orleans, and now Florida. We can’t allow the infection to spread again. This time we’ll lose everything.”

  “What do you suggest we do to stop the spread?” Rinngold asked.

  Kate thought for a moment and then said, “We have to destroy those missiles. We can’t take any chances. The entire ship needs to be blown sky high. The virus won’t survive the heat.”

  Ringgold trusted the doctor, but destroy the GW? They needed that ship and the aircraft on its deck to fight the coming war with Wood. Still, she knew the most important thing right now was keeping the virus out of enemy hands, and besides, attempting to fly those aircraft off the ship was too risky.

  Taking a seat, Ringgold exhaled and leaned toward the mic. “Captain Davis, we have new orders for you—destroy the GW and destroy those missiles by any means necessary, and then get the hell out of there. Captain Konkoly will relay the coordinates to a rendezvous point shortly. We’re bringing you home, Captain.”

  “Understood … Madam President.” There was a short hesitation in Davis’s response, only a few milliseconds, but Ringgold knew the captain would do what it took to carry out the order, no matter how difficult it was for her.

  The connection broke, and Ringgold stood to face her team. “I guess there are miracles after all. With the GW out of the picture, we just have the Zumwalt to worry about.”