A knock on the hatch interrupted his thoughts. He wagged a finger at Ringgold and said, “Your execution has been delayed, but don’t worry. You will meet your maker soon enough.”
Kufman opened the hatch and looked into the cell. “Sir, we have a problem.”
“I’m busy. Can’t this wait?”
“Afraid not, sir.”
“Go ahead then. She can hear whatever it is.”
Kufman wasn’t one to hesitate, but he paused long and hard before continuing. “The message you sent her,” he said, jerking his chin toward Ringgold. “When she was in the PEOC, or was supposed to be.”
“What about it?” Wood said.
“It’s playing on the radio waves, sir.”
“Which channel? Isolate it and kill whoever the fuck is playing it.”
“It’s playing on almost all of the channels, sir, but I can try to figure out where it was played first.”
Wood balled his hands into fists and looked back at Ringgold. Had she tricked him? Was this part of her plan?
“There’s something else, sir,” Kufman said. He held up a satellite phone. “There’s someone who wants to talk to you from SZT Sixty-Eight. We got the call from the mayor’s office.”
“Who is it?”
“Some lady, but she wouldn’t give me her name, sir,” Kufman said. “I’m guessing it’s Mayor Gallo.”
Wood snatched the phone from his bodyguard’s hands and brought it to his face.
“Who the fuck is this?”
There was a short pause. “Captain Rachel Davis.”
Wood laughed. “That’s fucking hilarious. Captain Rachel Davis is dead.”
“You’re wrong. I’m very much alive. I’m the one who blew up my ship.”
Wood’s smile faded. The voice did sound oddly familiar. His eyes flitted from Kufman to Ringgold.
“I have a proposal,” Davis said.
“You’re in no position to be making proposals,” Wood snapped, white hot with anger. “Now you listen to me, Cap. I have an arsenal of hemorrhage-virus missiles. I’ve got an army, and I’ve got Ringgold’s ‘fleet.’ You have no bargaining chips.”
“Wrong. The SZTs know the truth now. You won’t be in power long. They will rise up to face you in massive numbers.”
“Hah! Now that’s funny. The moment one of them does that, I’ll paint their SZT with the hemorrhage virus. So what else have you got?”
“Hold on a second,” Davis said.
There was a flurry of static, and then a deep voice. “Hello, Andrew.”
“And who the hell is this?”
“Captain Reed Beckham.”
Wood laughed again, nervously. Was it possible? Two ghosts back from the dead? “Now I know this is all bullshit,” Wood replied. “I dropped you in the middle of SZT Fifteen. I saw you die.”
“Did you?”
“Yes, I …” Wood’s words trailed off again. He looked at Ringgold again, narrowing his eyes.
“I helped kill your piece of shit brother, and now I’m going to kill you,” Beckham said.
Wood gripped the blade of his knife so hard that his knuckles popped. Beckham was smarter than Wood had given the Delta Force operator credit for. He’d done something that Wood didn’t anticipate—he’d survived the impossible.
But his luck had run out.
“You don’t know when to quit, do you, Beckham? If that’s really you, then Davis was right—she does have something I want. So I’ll tell you what: You want to kill me? I’ll even send a bird to pick you up. No one else has to die, besides Jan, your friend Joe Fitzpatrick, your dumb dog, and you.”
“You’ll fight me one-on-one?” Beckham asked.
“Sure,” Wood said, recalling how bad Beckham had looked the last time he saw him. He would easily win a one-on-one fight against the broken-down soldier. And although part of him wanted to torture the piece of shit and make his pain last, killing Beckham in hand-to-hand combat would remind every ROT soldier why Wood was in charge.
“I’ll be waiting for you at SZT Sixty-Eight,” Beckham said.
“I’ll have a bird there in a few hours, and then we get to meet again.” Wood smiled as another idea struck him. “Oh, and Beckham, bring your little friend Rachel with you. I’ve got plans for her too.”
“It burns!” shouted Dr. Orlov. He squirmed violently against the restraints holding him to the gurney inside the medical ward aboard the Thalassa.
Horn looked through the porthole window. “This shit doesn’t seem to be working,” he said.
Bruno bit her nails. “I can’t watch this. He’s all I …”
Her words trailed off, and Kate noticed a tear welling in Bruno’s eye. She had been a rock since Kate arrived on the ship, and seeing her cry rattled Kate more than watching Dr. Orlov.
Orlov shook the table, pulling Kate from her thoughts. Horn gripped his pistol, but Bruno clicked her tongue.
“You will not shoot him,” she hissed.
“Okay, lady, but damn, he’s really messed up.”
Kate looked at her watch. “It could still take some time to work,” she said. “We infected him with the hemorrhage virus thirty minutes ago, and Resurrection shortly after.”
Bruno wiped the tear from her eye. “Something’s wrong. The nanoparticles must not be—”
Orlov strained against his bonds, blue veins bulging across his skull. He raised his head to look at the porthole. His red eyes gushed bloody tears.
“I won’t … No, I won’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I won’t kill them. I can’t, I can’t …” Orlov mumbled.
Kate recognized the symptoms: hallucinations, erratic behavior, bloodshot eyes, bulging veins, and bleeding from multiple orifices.
Next came the snapping joints.
Orlov squirmed in the restraints again, his legs and arms clicking. He twisted his body to the left, snapping his shoulder out of a socket so he could pull the arm out of the restraints.
“Shit,” Horn said. “We can’t let him get out of those.”
Bruno put a hand over Horn’s as he reached for his gun.
“Give it a few more minutes,” Kate said.
Horn moved his hand away from the pistol’s grip and snorted his disapproval. “Whatever you say. I’m just—”
Orlov’s screaming cut Horn short. They all looked back into the room as the Russian doctor shook violently on the table. His red eyes rolled up into his head, and bubbles frothed out of his mouth.
“He’s choking,” Bruno said, stepping toward the door.
This time Horn was the one to put a hand on hers.
Kate watched in horror as Orlov jerked, in the clutches of a seizure.
It was all over in a few seconds, his body suddenly still on the table. A foot kicked, and his fingers moved slightly. He let out a long groan and then drew in a deep breath.
“What’s happening?” Horn asked.
Kate shook her head. “I’m … I’m not sure.”
“I have to get in there,” Bruno said. She tried to move to the door, but Horn blocked her way.
“No, goddamnit!” he snapped. “I get that you have feelings for him, but he made his choice, and I can’t let you put your life or Kate’s life in jeopardy.”
Kate continued to watch while Horn and Bruno argued.
Something was happening to Orlov’s skin. The blue veins were less pronounced now, and his muscles had all relaxed.
He let out a groan and squirmed on the table.
Kate moved to the side of Horn for a better view. The Russian scientist was still bleeding from his eyes and ears, showing the Ebola infection, but the effects of VX-99 seemed to be going away.
“I think it’s working,” Kate said.
Bruno and Horn both stepped up to the glass to watch. She cupped her hand over her heart.
“The Ebola infection will take a while to go away, but the effects of VX-99 look as though they’ve stopped,” Kate said. “The cure is really working.”
“I’ll
be damned,” Horn said. “It’s like our boy Boris Yeltsin’s back from the dead.”
“Not the dead—more like back from the paths of insanity,” Kate added.
Bruno bent her head, praying rapidly in Italian.
Orlov lay on the table, completely still save for his chest rising up and down. The blue veins slowly faded, and his pale flesh took on a salmon-pink color.
“It does work after all,” Kate said, feeling the ghost of a smile. The shock of seeing a cure in action brought with it a flood of conflicting emotions, but there was no time to think of any of them.
She reached out and touched Bruno’s arm. “He’s going to be okay. But we have a job to do now. We have to go and make as many doses as possible.”
24
Fitz couldn’t see the battle, but he could hear the thump of artillery fire and mortar rounds raining down on the buildings where the Variants were seeking refuge. The crack of automatic gunfire a few streets away had woken him from a quick nap.
“We’re here,” Tanaka said, turning the wheel of the MATV. “This is the rear of the front lines.”
Fitz rubbed his eyes groggily. He knew a few marines who could sleep through gunfire, but not a man or woman who didn’t flinch during a serious artillery bombardment. That sound would wake him up in the middle of the night, shaking like a damn dog.
He checked his watch.
1900.
The sun was going down on the horizon, the Paris skyline swallowing the orange globe. Fingers of smoke rose away from destroyed buildings.
Rico, normally the historian of the group, didn’t seem to be impressed by the sight of the city. She hadn’t said much since the attack that left Stevenson dead. The melancholy drive toward Paris had passed in silence, broken only by the occasional crack of gunfire.
But the quiet wasn’t a bad thing.
According to EUF Command, the Variants were on the retreat and preparing to take their final stand in Paris. Team Ghost and every other squad was surrounding the city.
Fitz took a slug of water and used a handful to splash on his flushed face, still trying to wake up. Tanaka followed the convoy into a narrow street of apartment buildings, where most of the cars had been pushed onto the sidewalks. The alleyway had seen battle months before, high-caliber rounds and rocket-propelled grenades leaving behind gaping scars in the brick and stone exteriors.
A girl and a man, presumably her father, huddled in the shadows on the second floor of a building where the wall to their living room had once been. The exterior looked like a mouth with most of the teeth knocked out. The child raised a hand at the convoy as Tanaka passed by and smiled warmly.
“See why we’re not bombing the city?” Rico said. “There are still survivors here.”
“I’m surprised anyone survived, to be honest, but it shows how resilient our species is. Take that kid, for example,” Dohi said. “She’s got a freaking grin on her filthy face.”
Rico, still chomping on the same piece of gum, nodded and replied, “Who was it who said humans are like cockroaches?”
It was the most the team had spoken since losing Stevenson. Morale was shit, and Fitz didn’t know how to fix it. He was lost in his own thoughts about home and about the mission moving forward.
A pair of F-16s screamed overhead, the first Fitz had seen for hours. Missiles streaked away from them and hit a skyscraper in the distance. Both jets peeled off in different directions.
Fitz couldn’t see their targets but imagined they had hit a Reaver nest, or another HVT. From the street level, he couldn’t see much. The sky appeared void of choppers and other aircraft, but he did see several Reavers that looked like bats flapping around the larger buildings in the distance.
The airborne threat made flying a helicopter almost impossible in the light, and the mission to find the Queen had been delayed until dark.
“Looks as though we’re not going to be able to count on much air support,” Rico said, echoing his thoughts.
“Command is low on everything: fuel, artillery, bombs, missiles, and aircraft,” Dohi said. “We’re going to be on our own once we get into the city.”
Fitz knew what Stevenson would have said.
We’re always on our own.
But Fitz couldn’t let morale slip anymore. He had to own this situation—he had to do what Beckham had taught him to do.
You have to lead.
“Okay, Ghost—take a good look at those civilians, and take a good look at the men and women in front of us and behind us. A lot of lives are likely counting on us. If we kill this Queen we can save a lot of people,” Fitz said.
“Oorah,” Rico said. Apollo stood on the back seat, wagging his tail.
Dohi stopped sharpening his combat knife. “We’re with you, Master Sergeant.”
“You know I’ve got your back,” Tanaka said. He pulled the MATV over at the next intersection and parked in a row of other vehicles. An entire platoon of infantry was marching down the street behind a pair of M1A1s that were heading east into the city.
“All right, we’re leaving the MATV here for now,” Fitz said. “Everyone out and follow me.”
They left the MATV on the street and hurried toward the FOB set up in one of the only structurally sound buildings left in the neighborhood, a four-story stone structure with a tile roof.
Major Domino met them outside and waved at Fitz.
“Got new orders for you,” Domino said. “We need you to help on the front lines before we send you into the city. Air support is still not being authorized at this time.”
“Roger that, sir,” Fitz said. He turned to Alecia and motioned for the girl to come forward. She gripped Rico’s hand.
“You have to stay here,” Fitz said.
“I want to fight,” Alecia said. “I’ve proven I can.”
Apollo sat on his haunches next to her. Fitz didn’t have time to argue. He walked over and bent down in front of her on his creaky new blades.
“I’m sorry, Alecia, but you can’t come with us,” Fitz said. He didn’t know how to tell her that Team Ghost was going to a place that kids should never see, because she had already seen the worst of man and the worst of Mother Nature.
An explosion sounded in the distance, the work of an M1A1 tank shell blowing off the top of a building close enough to give the street a shiver.
“I’ve got a mission for you, kid,” Domino said.
Alecia looked up at the major.
“Most of your friends, the Ombres, were evacuated a few days ago, but a few who are old enough stayed with the Twenty-Fourth MEU. They’re all on medical duty now, helping our wounded. It’s a dangerous job that will send you out into the streets, but it’s important, and hell, you might even get to shoot at some Variants,” Domino said. He pointed at a tent set up across the plaza, where Fitz saw several of the Ombres who hadn’t been evacuated. They were all in their teens, the younger kids having been shipped off to somewhere safe.
Alecia followed his finger and then looked back to Fitz.
“Master Sergeant Fitzie, I wanted to avenge Maman and Michel,” she said.
Fitz almost chuckled but kept a straight face. He glanced at Rico, who was smiling. She had clearly rubbed off on the girl.
“I know, and you already have,” Fitz said, his gaze flitting back to Alecia. “Thank you for fighting with us, k—” He stopped himself. “It was an honor fighting with you. We wouldn’t be back here if it weren’t for your actions.”
Alecia nodded proudly and scanned the members of Team Ghost in turn, stopping on Rico last. Rico bent down to give Alecia a hug and whispered something in her ear. Alecia nodded again and smiled. Then she walked over to Apollo, patted the dog on the head, and said, “Good boy.”
After a wave good-bye, Alecia followed Domino across the plaza to the front of the FOB, where she was reunited with some of her friends.
Fitz jerked his chin at his team, relieved that he wasn’t going to have to worry about Alecia any longer. She was a fight
er, but he wasn’t sure that mattered on this final mission for Team Ghost.
They returned to the MATV and followed the platoon of marines marching toward the front lines. The men were all running toward the sound of gunfire and the occasional mortar round that thumped overhead.
Command was setting up a perimeter now that the sun was going down. No one would be going past this block until morning, when the Variants were less active—no one except Team Ghost and a few other teams.
Explosions and shouting filled the city, and they weren’t even at the center of the action. In another two blocks, Fitz had a feeling things were going to be nuts. He saw movement on the rooftops overhead, where snipers were setting up shop. Gun barrels pointed out of the windows that had already been cleared, and at the end of the street, several soldiers wearing flamethrowers stood behind concrete barriers, spraying fire.
An adult Variant scrambled into the street, wrinkled flesh alight, looking like a burning raisin. It bounded over the barrier and landed behind the men with their flamethrowers. It reared up, prepared to attack, before its head exploded from a sniper round.
The burning corpse smoldered behind the trio of soldiers still toasting targets around the corner.
“Holy shit,” Rico said.
The Variants seemed to be testing the front lines on the edge of the city. Monsters skittered across the exteriors of the buildings in the distance, under a sky the color of pomegranates.
Fitz hadn’t seen many of the old creatures in Europe, but Command had warned that Paris was still full of them. In some ways, the original Variants terrified him more than their mutated offspring. The Variants, especially the Alphas, seemed way smarter, and resembled humans more, which made them even more horrifying to Fitz.
Soldiers in the windows and on rooftops suddenly opened fire on a target Fitz couldn’t see. Tanaka parked the MATV on the side of the street and waited for orders.
“Combat intervals once we get out there,” Fitz said. “Dohi, I want you on point.”
Marines ran past their parked vehicle and filed into buildings or took refuge behind vehicles or concrete barriers. Fitz grabbed the door when a Reaver came out of nowhere and nosedived at the flamethrower unit fifty meters away. The creature was riddled with bullets before it came close and fell lifelessly to the street behind the men.
Extinction War Page 30
