by David Meyer
Corbotch sighed, shifted his gaze. “Julius.”
Pearson jabbed his gun into Mills’ back, just below her shoulder blades. Immense pain shot through her body.
“Give me the book,” Corbotch repeated.
Fighting to keep the pain off her face, Mills stared straight into his cold, cold eyes. “Make me.”
Chapter 54
Date: June 19, 2016, 7:54 p.m.; Location: Sector 48A, Vallerio Forest, NH
The blast, abrupt and clear, reverberated through the forest. Caplan’s skin crawled. Then more blasts rang out in quick succession.
He stopped and Morgan stopped alongside him. The gunshot had come from the Rexto 419R3’s general direction, making Corbotch or maybe Perkins the likely shooter. But why? Were they trying to fend off 1-Gens? Didn’t they realize they might be attracting more of them? There’s your dinner bell, 1-Gens, he thought. It’s feeding time!
“Damn it,” Morgan whispered in frustration. “Every 1-Gen for miles is going to be making a beeline in this direction.”
“The more the merrier.”
“You can’t be serious.”
As the reverberations died away, crackles—ferocious and lasting—stretched across the land. They built to a deep crescendo, faded back into the Vallerio, and then began building again.
Caplan’s eyes returned to the fire that had captivated him the last few minutes. Flames blazed in the distance, throbbing and trembling with incredible energy. Gray smoke trailed upward, whirling and churning. The whole thing gave off strange energy, as if the fire itself was alive.
As the sounds of splintering wood filled his eardrums, Caplan thought about the earlier fire, the one triggered by the crash. But the Blaze’s wreckage was in the opposite direction. So, what had started this new fire?
Switching gears, he thought through their options and discarded them each in turn. They could try to outrun the flames. But where would they go? They were many miles from the outer fence line. And returning to Hatcher was like voluntarily returning to death row. No, there was just one option available to them and they needed to grab it before they ran out of time. “How are your legs feeling?” he asked.
“Like rubber.”
“That’ll have to do.” His instincts reared up as he stared into the forest. He wasn’t close enough to actually see the clearing. But he could feel it. Like the good old days. Before all the madness. When he could close his eyes and still sense the trees, the leaves, the rocks, the hills, everything. “Come on.”
Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Caplan broke out into a mad dash. His shoes flew over the pine needles, expertly avoiding roots, branches, and mud holes. Slowly, shiny black metal, tucked carefully between rings of conifers, came into view.
Turning his head, he looked for Morgan. She trailed him by a considerable margin. She ran with a limp and without style, awkwardly tripping over obstacles and kicking up mud with every step.
He zeroed in on her for a moment of time. Her skin was purplish-red. Her cheeks puffed in and out like a blowfish. Her blonde hair was a disaster area of floppy curls and frizz. And her clothes were a mud-soaked mess. But none of that altered the way he felt.
To him, she’d never looked more beautiful.
His head swiveled back to the front and he saw four shadows rushing northwest. Three of the shadows were new to him. But the fourth one sent his brain zooming back to where it had all started, that dark alleyway in Manhattan.
He knew he needed to keep going, to get to that helicopter. But instead, he veered off-course. Calculating the angles in his head, he ran full tilt through the forest. Derek Perkins, seemingly oblivious to his presence, did the same.
Caplan felt an inkling of doubt as they converged upon one another. But he quickly stuffed it away and leapt at Perkins, smashing the man with a vicious shoulder block. Caught off guard, Perkins went down like a glass-jawed boxer. They rolled, exchanging sharp elbows and punches, before Caplan gained the top position. Pinning Perkins, he raised his left fist and prepared to rain hellfire down on the man.
A body, small and petite, crashed into his back. The blow jostled Caplan and he tipped off balance. Swiftly, Perkins slid out from under him.
Fueled by rising insanity, Caplan whirled around to face this newest aggressor. He blinked, did a double-take.
A woman in her early-thirties stood before him. She was three or four inches shy of six feet and couldn’t have weighed much more than 120 pounds. Despite the mud caking her tanned body, he could see she was a cookie-cutter knockout. One of those blonde, blue-eyed supermodel types that the media and masses loved to despise, yet still fawned over at every opportunity.
Farther back, he saw two other people. A bearded, bookish guy and a hapless mud-covered woman. They sure as hell didn’t look like any of Corbotch’s big shots. But what else could they be?
His gaze shifted to the knockout. To the logbook under her left arm and to the large branch clutched in her right hand. She wielded it like a little kid wielding a too-heavy tennis racket. Harmless for the most part, but you still wouldn’t want the kid taking a swing at you. Rising to his feet, he yanked the branch out of her hand. Then he spun around to face Perkins.
“Wait.” Perkins, on all fours, gasped for air. Blood streamed from his right side, just below his armpit. Slowly, painfully, he lifted his eyes to meet Caplan’s. “I’m … I’m trying to help.”
Caplan lunged forward, grabbed the man’s shirt. “You work for Corbotch,” he growled.
“See that?” The knockout strode forward on bare feet, leaving tiny blood streaks on the pine needles. With her free hand, she pointed at Perkins’ right side. “That’s a bullet hole.”
Caplan cocked his fist. “And?”
“And he got it saving us from Corbotch’s man.” She gave Caplan a defiant look. “Maybe he used to work for James. But I think it’s safe to say he’s officially tendered his resignation.”
Chapter 55
Date: June 19, 2016, 8:01 p.m.; Location: Sector 48A, Vallerio Forest, NH
He gave you the tablets … he saved Amanda’s life, Caplan thought. Then again, he didn’t say a word when Pearson infected you.
His fist hung steady in the air, poised to slam into the bridge of Perkins’ nose. He became increasingly aware of the others. The bookish guy and the mud-covered woman. Morgan too, freshly arrived from lurching through the forest.
“Punch me if you want. Hell, pummel the shit out of me. Lord knows I deserve it.” Perkins’ eyes, small and bloodshot, flicked from Caplan to the trio of maybe-big shots. “Just give them tablets and get them the hell out of here.”
Caplan’s fist wavered. In the distance, he heard the crackling flames. The ground trembled slightly and pine needles fluttered to the ground.
The knockout looked over her shoulder. “Whatever you do, make it fast.”
“Why?” Morgan said between gasps. “You planning on outrunning that fire?”
“Something like that.”
Reluctantly, Caplan lowered his fist. Then he gave Perkins a shove, sending the man to the ground. “You brought me here,” he said. “You let Julius inject me with that … that …”
“With HA-78.” Perkins swallowed. “Yeah, I know.”
“People died. Lots of people.”
His face twitched, but he stayed silent.
“Why shouldn’t I kill you right now?” Caplan asked, his voice full of venom.
The bookish guy cleared his throat. “I hate to interrupt this fun little reunion of yours—”
“Then don’t,” Morgan said.
He stared down the barrel of her pistol without blinking. “Yes, you’ve got a gun. We’re all very impressed.”
Morgan frowned.
The bookish guy didn’t miss a beat. “But we’re not just running from the fire. There’s a giant on our trail.”
Caplan’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Giant?”
“He means Julius.” Perkins rose to a knee and clutched his side. “Julius is the one who sho
t me.”
Caplan glanced at Morgan. Morgan gave him a little nod. Then she knelt behind a tall cedar tree and looked southeast, studying the forest with great care.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Caplan looked back at Perkins. “Why shouldn’t I just kill you and be done with it?”
“Look, I deserve to die,” Perkins replied. “No denying that. Truth is, I let James into my brain. I let him twist my mind and convince me we were doing good things. His enemy list was a mile long. I flew dozens of them here—including these three—on his orders. I abandoned them to certain death and didn’t think twice about it.”
The mud-covered woman didn’t move a muscle. But the bookish guy clenched his jaw. And the knockout’s blue irises seemed to double in size.
“But then James said he wanted to kill everyone at Hatcher,” Perkins continued. “I started questioning him, doubting him. Doubting everything I’d ever done for him. So, I stole those tablets, smuggled them aboard the helicopter, gave them to you.”
“Yeah, you’re a real Samaritan.”
“I know I should’ve told you the truth about HA-78. I almost did. But …” He trailed off.
Caplan stared into the man’s eyes. In that instant, he felt Perkins’ pain and tortured anguish. Perkins had committed great sins. He’d knowingly caused unimaginable horror and death and he would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life.
Caplan’s feelings didn’t suddenly jump into the realm of positivity. But he reached out and offered a hand to Perkins.
Perkins grasped the hand and rose to his feet. He took a few deep breaths. But the haunted, hollow look remained in his eyes.
Caplan’s mind buzzed with questions about HA-78. But other questions also fought for his attention. Questions about 48A. Questions about the wildfire. And questions about the knockout’s logbook.
He shook his head, clearing his mind. There would be time for answers. Right now, he had to focus, to prioritize.
He fished the amber pill container out of his pocket. Popping off the cap, he offered a tablet to Perkins.
Perkins shook his head. “I was immunized before the flight.”
Caplan turned to the trio, handed out tablets. “In case you didn’t follow all that, you’re infected,” he said. “You need to swallow these down.”
The bookish guy made a face. “Without water?”
Caplan nodded at a small mud puddle. “Help yourself.”
“What do we look like? Savages?”
“What’s your name?” Caplan asked.
“Brian Toland.”
“Let me make this simple for you, Brian. Take the tablet, you live. Don’t take it, you die.”
Toland frowned. But he stuck the tablet into his mouth and swallowed it all the same.
Caplan glanced at the others. “Names?”
“Bailey Mills,” the knockout said.
The mud-woman didn’t respond.
“Her name is Tricia,” Mills offered. “Tricia Elliott.”
“And was he telling the truth?” Caplan asked, with a nod at Perkins. “About the three of you being abandoned here?”
“It wasn’t just three of us.” Mills’ eyes clenched tight. “It was five in the beginning.”
Morgan’s head tilted a few inches to one side. “Did you wake up in a field? Surrounded by strange animals?”
“Just one animal. A saber-toothed tiger.” Mills arched an eyebrow. “How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
“Well, any enemy of James’ is a friend of mine. I’m Zach Caplan and that’s Amanda Morgan.” Caplan studied the trio, feeling an instant kinship with Mills. Elliott seemed distant, as if lost in another dimension. And Toland, well, the less said about him the better. “It looks like you’ve been through a lot.”
Mills clutched her logbook a little closer to her side. “We lost two people to the saber. And still, it kept chasing us. We thought that barn-like building—”
“Wait.” Morgan, still keeping a lookout, paused for a long moment. “What building?”
“The building.” Elliott’s voice took a wild turn. “The hatch and the basement. Wheels and tubes and—”
“Tell us later.” Caplan turned to Perkins. “How’s the landing skid?”
“Fixed,” he replied.
“Think you can fly us out of here?”
A smile crossed Perkins’ face. “Just try and stop me.”
Chapter 56
Date: June 19, 2016, 8:14 p.m.; Location: Sector 48A, Vallerio Forest, NH
The inferno curled deep within the forest, gaining substance and momentum by the second. Caplan tried to estimate its height, its width. But it was impossible to tell at that distance.
He heard snarls and growls, distant yet close. According to Mills, they came from a saber-toothed tiger, presumably the same one that had slaughtered two of her friends.
Briefly, he thought about his conversation with Morgan, about the possibility that 1-Gens were growing to terrifying proportions. How big could a Pleistocene beast actually get? Eventually, gravity would take over and pull it into the earth. That is, if its bones and cartilage didn’t give out first. But such a monster could do a lot of damage before that happened.
The clearing came up fast and Caplan refocused his attention on it. He saw the Rexto 419R3, sitting quietly in the clearing. Corbotch stood alongside it, his gaze aimed at the wildfire.
“No sign of Pearson … he must be searching the forest.” Caplan studied Corbotch from head to foot, searching for signs of weapons. “That means James is alone.”
“Not exactly,” Morgan whispered. “Bailey told me she saw over a dozen people packed into the cabin.”
“The dignitaries?”
“That’s my guess. They’re probably armed.”
“Yeah, but they’re not Pearson.” Caplan shook his head. “Why would Pearson leave Corbotch by himself? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I think I can answer that one.” Perkins, wincing and clutching his right side in a firm grip, sidled up to Caplan. “He’s looking for me.”
The truth dawned on Caplan. “You’re the only one who knows how to fly the Rexto?”
“Yup. Without me in the cockpit, they’re stuck here.”
“Then stay out of sight. We can’t let them know you’re with us.” Caplan glanced at Morgan. “James or the cabin?”
Morgan cocked her head to one side. “That depends. Are you going to let me shoot him?”
“On second thought, I’ll take James. Here, take this.” Caplan shrugged off his rifle and handed it to Morgan. “You’ll need it more than me.”
She slung the rifle over her shoulder and handed her pistol to Caplan. “Ready when you are.”
Caplan spun around, looked at the others. “Don’t come out until we say so.”
Elliott didn’t respond. But Mills, Toland, and Perkins nodded in unison.
Crouching down, Caplan stole into the clearing. He kept one eye on the blaze as he cut through the deep grass. It continued to grow bigger and bigger. He figured they had twenty minutes before the fire turned them into ash.
He paused upon reaching Corbotch and checked his surroundings. Still no sign of Pearson. Warily, he rose to his feet and took careful aim at the old man. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Corbotch froze for a second. Then he slowly turned around. His weathered, wrinkled face showed no signs of anger or fear. “I have to admit I had my doubts. But you really are a survival expert.”
“And you’re a murderer.”
“But you’re still going to let me go.”
Caplan’s teeth gnashed in disgust. “And why would I do that?”
“Because this planet is dying.” Corbotch exhaled a long breath. “And I’m the only one who can help it.”
Chapter 57
Date: June 19, 2016, 8:18 p.m.; Location: Sector 48A, Vallerio Forest, NH
“Help the planet?” Caplan shook his head. “You wouldn’t help a little old lady c
ross the street unless she paid you for it.”
“I’m many things, Zach. Some good, some bad. But greedy certainly isn’t one of them.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Caplan saw the cabin door slide open. A pistol, clenched in a small hand, appeared.
Morgan popped out of the grass and slammed the door on the hand. A screeching yelp rang out. Wasting no time, she opened the door again and yanked the hand. An aloof middle-aged man tumbled out of the helicopter. Morgan aimed the rifle at him. “Remember me?” she asked with a twisted smile. “Yeah, I thought so. Do yourself a favor and stay quiet.”
For the next two minutes, Caplan kept up a steady aim on the cabin. Meanwhile, Morgan emptied it one-by-one, frisking the big shots before sending them to join the others.
“It’s okay. I can handle this.” Corbotch flashed the panicked big shots a calming smile before turning back to Caplan. “Do you know what’s going on here? I mean, what’s really going on?”
At any second, Pearson could return. And then there was the fire, still throbbing, still drawing dangerously close. There was no time to waste. He needed to call to Perkins and the others, board the chopper, and get the hell out of the cursed forest. “The better question is, do I care? And the answer is, no, I don’t.”
“I lied to you earlier. Oblivion isn’t inching our way. It’s already here.”
Caplan wanted to dismiss him. But the sincerity of Corbotch’s tone gave him pause. “What are you talking about?”
“The Holocene extinction is about to kick into high gear, Zach. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s merely an inevitable consequence of the strange and massive loss of megafauna during the Pleistocene epoch.” Corbotch stared unblinking into Caplan’s eyes. “Regardless, the world is in serious trouble. Vallerio Foundation experts expect systemic ecosystem failure to occur across the globe within six months.”
Morgan gave him a hard look. “You told us—”
“I told you what you needed to hear, nothing more. The truth is very few people know how bad this is about to get. The only ones that know, besides me and some select researchers, are them.” He jabbed his thumb at the big shots, packed close together in the clearing.
