Extinction Agenda s-6

by Marcus Pelegrimas

The IRD troops closest to the door were knocked down with the first swipe of Esteban’s paw. One of them caught the blunt side of the appendage while another felt every one of the curved claws dig through his body armor, gouge into his chest, and then emerge out the other side amid a bloody spray. The beast’s victorious howl quickly turned into a pained cry as Cole drove the curved Blood Blade into his side. The impact seemed to surprise Esteban more than anything else, and he lost his footing in his haste to pull away from the charmed weapon.

  Cole felt the blade carve through Esteban’s flesh, but found himself staggering to the floor as the Full Blood shifted into the form he’d acquired during the Breaking Moon. Like a picture being shifted out of focus, the werewolf went from solid to incorporeal in two seconds. The next few shots fired at him sparked against the interior of the cabin before the soldiers eased off their triggers, and the rounds snagged in Esteban’s fur clattered onto the floor.

  Paige’s voice rang out once again. “Bank hard left! Now!”

  The IRD pilot had enough field experience to keep his cool under any circumstances and more than enough training to follow through on Paige’s order. Everything in Cole’s immediate vicinity tilted crazily to the right, sending him and a few of the soldiers down and rolling clumsily toward the side hatch. Esteban had a similar reaction, but lacked the physical presence to bounce off something or grab anything else. Instead, he slid along the floor while also melting through it. When he should have hit the wall, his body simply kept going. His progress was only stopped when one of his paws became solid enough to grab the floor.

  “One more!” Cole shouted as he crawled over to where Esteban was hanging on. “Hard right!”

  It took a moment for the pilot to reach a spot where he could perform the maneuver, but he did so with even more sharpness than before. Not only did the bodies of the first two soldiers roll into the benches, but Esteban’s weight dragged the helicopter down as he shifted back into his normal body. Cole didn’t concern himself with that. The Full Blood’s paw was solid, and that was the only target he cared about. Having braced himself against the shredded hatch, Cole gripped his spear in both hands and willed it to stretch out to its full length. Then he swung it in a diagonal arc that brought sparks from the floor and dug into Esteban’s paw. Paige got to them by sliding on her knees across a floor that was tilting like a funhouse beneath her. The stake that grew from the sickle’s handle dug into the Full Blood’s paw, forcing him to let go. Esteban’s angry howl rolled through the air as his body plummeted to the ground.

  “You want me to keep rockin’ and rollin’?” the pilot shouted back.

  “No,” Paige said in what was one of the few times Cole had ever seen her get even vaguely queasy. “For the love of all that’s holy, level off.”

  “That Class One impacted behind us. Should I circle back?”

  “Yeah. Just make sure we’ve got backup.”

  “Oh, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Even after the helicopter had veered onto another course, Adderson’s gaze was still fixed on the sky. “Where did that thing land?” he asked.

  Warren stood on top of the Humvee, sighting through her binoculars. “I’d say about two or three klicks from here, but couldn’t be much farther than that.”

  “Can you get us to that impact site?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then go!”

  He, Warren, and the other troops they’d collected along the way piled into their vehicles and rolled down the street. Adderson still didn’t have much of an idea about his location using any sort of civilian terminology. If he ever visited Shreveport again and someone gave him a street address, he’d probably get lost. But when someone referred to the grid that the IRD had set up that allowed them to navigate just about any urban environment, he’d know exactly what they were talking about.

  “All Ravens,” he said into his radio. “Give me a location on the shifter that was just dropped.”

  “This is Raven Two. Dropped that bastard into Sector Fourteen, but I couldn’t tell you if it’s still there or not. Swung over to have a look, but it was already up and moving.”

  “Sector Fourteen,” Adderson said to the Humvee driver. That was all the driver needed to hear to get the vehicle moving in the proper direction. Adderson scanned the side of the street for movement as he spoke into the radio. “Do you still have those specialists, Raven Two?”

  “Yes sir. They’re anxious to get back into the fight. Already told them you’d be joining the party. Was that speaking out of turn, sir?”

  “Not at all. We engaged a large group of Class Twos in Sector Eight, but they were just wild and hungry. Most of the bigger ones are probably going to meet up with that Class One. All Ravens, deploy your troops and provide air support.”

  “You’ll have it as long as we can stay in the air, sir,” another of the pilots said.

  “Negative, Ravens,” Adderson snapped. “If the ground forces get overwhelmed, you are all ordered to bug out and regroup at the western rendezvous point. Those choppers are too damned expensive to be thrown away. Understood?”

  One by one the pilots gave their affirmatives, but none of them seemed happy about it. Adderson tucked the radio away. No troops needed to be happy about their orders for them to be carried out. He knew the IRD soldiers were conditioned well enough to see them through before giving in to the panic that gnawed at all of them. If he thought about his current assignment for too long, he could still feel that panic creeping in at the edges. He shoved it back down and prepped his assault rifle. When the time came, that’s all he would need.

  The warning sirens had been off for some time. Any civilians who hadn’t gotten into their shelters by now were on their own. Half Breeds swarmed through the city, racing through yards, bounding down streets, scampering along sidewalks, and even leaping onto first story roofs before rejoining the main flow that led into what had been designated Sector 14. Milosh looked out of his window as Half Breeds ran past the Humvee that met them shortly after their arrival in town. Some of them even kept pace long enough to glance over and snap at the vehicles. The driver jerked the wheel to the appropriate side to nudge the creatures along, which was enough to buy some space before any tires were shredded.

  One of the soldiers who’d met them was a young Asian man with bright eyes and a curious smile. “So what’s the deal with you guys?” he asked.

  “Deal?” Milosh grunted.

  “Yeah. Usually all you specialists carry sticks. What’s with the knives and that post?”

  Milosh turned in his seat to look at George, who carried his long weapon so the weighted end was resting on his shoulder and the claw was wedged between his feet. “What is the deal with that post, Georgie?”

  “Nobody calls me Georgie, and if they do,” the Amriany added while shifting so the weighted end of his weapon was on more prominent display, “they don’t remember it. This post can make you forget your last three birthdays, know what I mean?”

  “He’s definitely talking to you, man,” the soldier said.

  “We are not Skinners,” Milosh said. “We are called Amriany. In our language, this means both chosen and cursed. Appropriate, eh?”

  The soldier shrugged and readjusted to get more comfortable in his seat. “Whatever. Now I see why the major just calls you all specialists.”

  From the front seat Nadya chuckled. It had been generations since an Amriany tasted the sweet scent of pure nature energies used by the Dryad. She knew Sophie would have loved to travel that way herself. If things went according to plan, there would be other chances. For the moment, the Amriany couldn’t afford to send one of their most valuable assets into a wolf infested city.

  The driver of the Humvee spoke on her radio and then put the handset into a bracket mounted to the dash. “We’re headed to Sector Fourteen.” Glancing over to Nadya, she added, “Not far from here.”

  “I figured. Aren’t we headed toward the
spot where that Weshruuv was dropped like a rock from one of your helicopters?”

  The driver’s face cracked into a smile, making it seem almost pretty. The effect lasted for a few seconds before the Army shield was up again. “I guess that was a tough sight to miss, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “So. Wesh-roove. What language is that?”

  Without bothering to correct the driver’s pronunciation, Nadya told her, “It’s a mix of lots of things. More of some and a sprinkling of others.”

  “My whole family’s like that.”

  “Yes,” Nadya said while glancing over her shoulder at the two Amriany crammed into the back with the other soldier. “Mine too.”

  The Learjet 45XR touched down at Shreveport Regional Airport, where it was immediately met by a military convoy. On any given day a year ago this would have gummed up the works for several commercial airlines and possibly hundreds of commuters. But since most of the people who wanted to leave the city had already done so, and nobody was too anxious to get there, the jet had the landing strip to itself as it taxied to a halt.

  One of the soldiers who’d arrived to greet the plane stood on the tarmac with his back to the aircraft. Other soldiers stood alongside him, facing away, their rifles already raised to their shoulders. “How we doing on shifter activity?” the first soldier asked.

  “Still a few packs in the airport, but Jeffries and Bukowski are keeping them occupied.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, the first soldier watched as the jet’s side hatch was opened and steps were lowered. About two seconds later he asked, “What the hell are they doing in there?” Rather than yell up into the jet, he tapped the shoulder of the man beside him and said, “Go up and see what’s keeping them. We’ve got a limited amount of time here.”

  Esteban’s howl echoed from another part of town, causing the IRD troops to shift their focus to the men beside them. It was more of a feral howl than the solid, vaguely melodic tones that infected random humans, and was cut off by the thump of multiple explosives, which ironically put the soldiers on the landing strip at ease.

  The soldier who’d been sent into the jet ran up the steps and quickly poked his head out again to say, “It’s not ready yet.”

  “What’s not ready yet?”

  “I don’t know! Should I clear the cabin?”

  “Can you do that without compromising any of the assets?”

  The soldier at the top of the steps looked back, studied whatever was in the jet for a few seconds, and turned around without being able to disguise his wince. “Can’t say for sure.”

  After a haggard sigh and a muttered curse, the soldier on the ground shot a quick glance to the others, who had formed a firing line in front of the jet’s stairs. None of the troops indicated that they saw anything coming from the surrounding area, so the first soldier shouted, “If that aircraft isn’t empty in three minutes, you’re authorized to clear it by force.”

  Just as the soldier in the jet was about to acknowledge the order, something caught his attention and drew him back inside. He stepped up to the open hatchway but was shoved aside by a lump of a figure wrapped in a hooded sweatshirt, at least two sweaters, and a parka. Despite the soldier’s protests and attempt to stand his ground, he was unable to keep himself from being moved away from the exit hatch so the lumpy passenger could depart.

  “All I asked for was another few minutes!” the lump said. Although no hands could be seen beneath the multiple layers of clothing, squirming arms were wrapped beneath a tottering pile of cases, jars, and small coolers. Faded sweatpants led down into a pair of rubber boots that jangled noisily as the unfastened buckles rattled against each other with every shuffling step. “After breaking my windows, messing up my carpets, knocking over my comic boxes, and breaking down my door, the least you could do was let me finish!”

  Another man in uniform stepped into view. It was the pilot, who wore a dark green jumpsuit and pushed his way past both the armed IRD soldier as well as the griping passenger. Not even getting jabbed by one of the sharp implements poking out from the bundle in the passenger’s arms was going to prevent him from getting the hell off that jet. “If it was up to you, you wouldn’t have left that damn apartment.”

  Daniels poked his head from behind the mound of stuff he was carrying. “I could have worked a lot better there than wedged behind some seats with my eardrums popping out of my skull.”

  The pilot rolled his eyes, walked down the stairs and patted the first soldier on the back. “They’re all yours.”

  “You might want to stick close to us, Lieutenant,” the soldier warned. “Class Twos are in the airport.”

  “After flying all the way from Chicago with that little jerk, I’ll take my chances.”

  Daniels was escorted down the stairs by the soldier who’d gone up into the jet, along with two other IRD troops. Sally brought up the rear carrying several small cases that were either hanging from her shoulders or gripped in her hands. “Most of the work is done. There’s just a few finishing touches, which we can get to on the way over. Is there enough room for him to work?”

  “Should be,” one of the escorts replied. He addressed her fondly while completely ignoring the Nymar’s never-ending flow of gripes. Apparently it was a trick that everyone on that jet had learned, because none of them seemed anxious to acknowledge Daniels whatsoever.

  When he got to the bottom of the stairs, Daniels looked up at the soldiers and let out a weary breath. “Where do we go from here?”

  “You hear all that shooting and howling?”

  Daniels listened for a second before nodding.

  “That’s where we’re headed.”

  “Her too?” the Nymar asked while glancing back at Sally.

  Upon hearing that, the soldiers who had previously been annoyed with Daniels took notice of him again. One was a tall man with thick, angular features and skin the color of burnt clay. The only patch he wore other than the IRD insignia was a faded sampling from an older uniform that read OURAY. “We’ll look after her,” he said.

  “I was told on the way over that this city is just about overrun. Can you keep her safe here?”

  “If worse comes to worse, we’ll pack her up and fly her to the nearest Green Zone. Those places are the closest thing to safe that this country has anymore.”

  “Not just this country,” Daniels sighed. Reluctantly, he nodded. Sally placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Might as well go with them, sweetie,” he said. “You’ll be better off than being with me.”

  “If I could help you, I would,” she said while framing his face in her hands. “And if I could take you with me, I would too.”

  “You can still take me with you,” Daniels told her. “Just knock out these armed men and hijack that plane.”

  “Sorry, but I just can’t stand the thought of flying again with you right now.”

  Daniels’s laugh was strained beneath the weight of all the stuff he was carrying. He was relieved when the soldiers from the firing line came along to take some of the heavier cases from him and carry them to the waiting Humvee. “I didn’t go through this much to be with you just to let you go now,” he said. “Just keep safe and I’ll see you again real soon.”

  Ouray escorted Daniels to the Humvee. The Nymar didn’t look back until he was inside the vehicle, but it was too late. Sally was already up the stairs and being locked behind the door while an old man in a jumpsuit scrambled to refuel the jet.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “What the hell does that thing want?” Adderson asked after emptying an entire magazine into a pair of Half Breeds that had charged at him without batting an eye at the dozens of other rounds thumping into their bodies.

  Cole and Paige stood with their backs to a semi trailer that had probably been sitting in the parking lot behind the large store since before the Breaking Moon. The posts propping it up were rusted and caked in dirt. Cole knew as much because he’d spent the first twenty minutes after his ar
rival huddled beneath the trailer, looking out from behind those metal supports. Even as he inched away from cover, his foot remained in place, as if his ankle was attached to that post. “Doesn’t matter what he wants.”

  “I thought you guys knew these things. Talked to them.”

  There were two other soldiers posted near the trailer with Adderson and the Skinners. Both of them turned to look at Cole and Paige.

  “This one doesn’t want to talk and he doesn’t want to deal,” Cole said. “Do you really need me to tell you that?”

  “What about the one in Kansas City?” Adderson asked. “Didn’t you get some help taking that thing down?”

  Paige fired the last of the rounds from her Beretta, holstered it, then drew her sickles. “We won’t be getting that kind of help here. What’s with you, anyway? You were never interested in doing much of anything other than shooting these things before. Now you want to ask about getting help from Mongrels?”

  Pointing his assault rifle’s muzzle downward, Adderson said, “If siding with Class Threes is what it’ll take to clear this city, then that’s what we’ve got to do. Once this place goes down, there won’t be much incentive to keep the higher ups from lighting up the rest of the cities that are being overrun.”

  “How much of the country is overrun?” Cole asked.

  “Whatever you’ve heard on the news, times that by five.”

  “We stopped watching that crap.”

  “Let’s just say it’s bad,” Adderson told him. “Even by our standards. Most recent estimates put the danger zones at sixty-five percent of the populated areas.”

  “Jesus,” Paige breathed. “Is that this state or the whole country?”

  “That’s worldwide. U.S. figures are even worse. Some countries don’t acknowledge being attacked by these things, but satellite imagery has been modified to pick up on the shifters’ heat signature. They’re everywhere. Something’s been spreading this infection or whatever the hell it is even faster over the last two days. Whatever you were looking for, I hope you found it, because if this city falls, we might as well find a bunker and take our chances with whatever my bosses in DC decide to drop on us in the next air strike. All I can tell you is it won’t be the little fireworks the Air Force has been flying in so far.”