Beckham brought two fingers to his eyes and then pointed into the office. “Go get that kid,” he whispered to Horn.
The man nodded his reply and reached for the handle. Ryan took his place as Horn moved into the room. Beckham started to tell the Ranger to follow, but another order crackled across the comm.
“Set up position, but do not search for survivors. I need your men on those windows, Beckham,” Gates said. His voice shook, but Beckham knew it wasn’t really the lieutenant giving the order; it was the old fossil leading Operation Liberty—General fucking Kennor.
“Copy that,” Beckham replied. Anger swirled through him at the thought of leaving a kid behind. Fuck that, Beckham thought. He wasn’t leaving anyone behind again. He would never forgive himself for abandoning that family the last time he was in New York.
Beckham turned the channel back to Charlie and Delta. “Listen up. We got a survivor on this floor. We’re going to clear the room, secure the kid, and then fall into position. Got it?”
Nine helmets moved up and down, including Lieutenant Colonel Jensen’s. That was good; they all trusted him.
“I want two Marines to hold security here,” Beckham said. Then he signaled the strike teams to advance into the office. “Horn, you got eyes?”
“Negative.”
Beckham pulled his scarf away from his mouth. “Ryan?”
“Negative.”
Gripping his weapon, Beckham paused to map out the room. The cubicles were set up in rows of ten and went five deep. The glass that had overlooked Manhattan was mostly gone. Shards stuck out of a three-foot-high wall. That’s where they would set up their rifles, he decided.
He looked for Horn next and found the man’s helmet bobbing up and down at the far right of the room.
“Clear,” Ryan said over the comm.
Beckham swore again. The kid was probably long gone now. If he had survived this long, he likely had some secure hiding spot.
“Found something,” Horn said.
Beckham pointed the rest of the strike teams toward the waist-high wall overlooking Bryant Park and the library. “Get into position.”
He rushed through the row of cubicles to the edge of the floor, catching a breathtaking glimpse of the city. The wind whistled through the open windows, brushing against his armor. It was one hell of a long way down, like break-every-bone-in-your-body long way down. He felt a flash of extreme vertigo and waited for it to pass.
He spied Horn’s helmet jutting over a cubicle at the other end of the room. He broke into a run and found the man standing in the doorway of a small office. Filthy blankets and trash littered the floor.
“Looks like the kid was living here,” Horn remarked.
There was rustling at the opposite end of the floor from the teams setting up their weapons and gear.
Beckham shook his head. “Kid’s gone.”
“Maybe he’ll come back when he realizes we aren’t monsters.”
Beckham stepped out of the space and checked the passage to the right. “Did you clear these?”
“Not yet.”
“Let’s go.”
They cleared the last row of cubicles and stopped at the emergency exit. Beckham took a guarded step forward, reaching for the handle as Horn aimed his rifle at the door. They exchanged a glance, and then Beckham twisted the knob. Horn went first, with Beckham on his heels.
“Don’t fucking move!” came a deep, panicked voice.
Beckham struggled to see around Horn’s bulky frame.
“I said don’t MOVE!” A bearded man with wild hair angled a mean-looking shotgun toward Horn. The boy Beckham had seen before cowered behind the man. It was then Beckham noticed the uniform.
He was a cop.
“We’re friendly,” Horn said. He lowered his rifle and raised his right hand. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
“Drop the shotgun, man,” Beckham added, pointing his muzzle at the floor.
The bearded officer’s hands shook, the barrel of the shotgun waving from side to side. Beckham watched his trigger finger. It was dangerously close to squeezing off a round that would take off Horn’s head.
“We’re going to get you out of here,” Beckham said. “Just lower your weapon.” He realized what they must look like, with their NVGs and armored vests packed full of magazines. The passage was lit only by the moonlight streaming through the window behind them. Beckham imagined they looked a lot like something from the Terminator movies.
“You can’t get us out of here,” the man said. “There’s no way out of the city.”
Beckham wasn’t sure how to respond. He was too worried about the guy firing a slug into Horn’s dome.
“Listen,” Beckham said in his calmest voice. “There is an entire platoon of Marines on the street below. We’re here to clear the area, set up a base, and then evacuate any survivors.”
“You’re not fucking listening!”
Beckham’s earpiece flared to life. “What the hell is going on?” It was Jensen.
“Hold position,” Beckham whispered into his mini-mic. If the other strike teams showed up now, the officer would either run or start shooting.
“I’m listening,” Beckham said, trying to draw the man’s attention.
He raised the shotgun and pointed it at Beckham. That was fine; it kept Horn out of the line of fire.
“Those things are everywhere, man. Everywhere. There is no way out of the city. Everyone that’s tried has ended up in the nests.” He whimpered, the gun shaking again.
“That’s not going to happen to you. We’re going to get you out of here,” Beckham said.
The man burped out a chuckle, lowered his rifle, and slowly raised his chin toward the top of the stairwell. “You don’t understand, do you? No one can save you. Those monsters…” He paused and wiped saliva from his lips before adding, “Those monsters own this city now. Every single inch.”
Beckham wanted to reply, but they were running out of time. His earpiece came to life again. “In position. Where the hell are you, Beckham?”
Jensen again. He was agitated.
“Hold position,” Beckham replied, trying to conceal his own frustration. He flipped the channel off and then took a step down the staircase.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “But either way, you have a better chance with us.”
The kid peered out from behind him. “Maybe we should go with them, Dad?”
Beckham’s heart leapt at the word.
“Fine,” the officer said. “But I sure hope there are shit-ton of you guys.”
“There are,” Horn lied.
Beckham moved out of the way and walked back down the wall of cubicles. The view of the destroyed city shocked him again every time he looked. It was remarkable that anyone had survived, let alone a father and his son. It was a true testament of what people did when faced with daunting odds. Some ran for the hills. Others held their lover’s hand and committed suicide. And there were a few like these two that fought to survive.
“What’s your name, sir?” Beckham said as they walked.
“I’m Jake. This is my son, Timothy.”
“Good to have you with us,” Beckham said. “We’re going to get you guys out of here.” It was yet another promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. But he was going to do everything in his power to make sure he didn’t break it. Gripping the handle of his MP5 tightly, he led the trio through the rows of cubicles back to where the members of Charlie and Delta were waiting, their rifles aimed at the park below.
-21-
They were trapped in the second medical wing. Kate wanted to cry. She wanted to break down and give up. But she’d come this far, and she had others to think about. She had Tasha and Jenny.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Rod said. He jerked his pistol around frantically, searching for the source of the screeching. It was coming from everywhere. Above, behind, even through the vents on the floor.
The Variant ripping through the ICU wasn’t the onl
y one in the building. There were others, too.
An agonized scream broke out from the intensive care wing—a human scream. A mixture of pain and terror so deranged she couldn’t place the voice.
Ellis paced back and forth. “So what do we do now?”
Riley shook his head. “There isn’t anything to do but wait.”
“Great, just great,” Rod said.
“Would you rather have stayed in the ICU?” Kate asked.
He seemed to think for a moment. Before he could answer, another screech rang out. His eyes wild and wide, Rod played the pistol over the hallway. The screams from the ICU had faded, replaced by the sporadic sound of the other Variants deep inside the building.
Her heart racing, Kate hunched down to hold Tasha and Jenny. Both girls were in a state of shock, their eyes glazed, tears flowing freely down their rosy cheeks. Never before had Kate felt so alone. She’d lost almost everything in the past three weeks, and now Reed wasn’t here to protect her. She choked up at the thought of him. He was out there somewhere, fighting, doing what he did best.
What did she do best? She’d created a weapon that had killed billions.
The doors to the ICU suddenly crunched. The burned Variant dented the metal with his skull as he rammed it.
Another thump came from the ceiling.
Furious scratching followed, like a dog digging for a bone.
“Stay close to me,” Riley whispered. He waved Ellis, Kate, and the girls over with his free hand and kept his pistol aimed at the door. “Rod, you shoot anything that comes through that door.”
A short nod from the toxicologist. But Kate could see he was hardly listening. The man was beyond his breaking point. She was starting to worry he would shoot one of them by accident.
“You with me, man?” Riley asked.
Another short nod.
Pounding rattled the door as the creature continued to charge the metal. The scratching above stopped.
There was a cracking sound in the distance. Gunfire. Short, controlled bursts.
Kate looked up, filled with hope at the sound. There was still someone out there!
The door to the ICU shook again, tremors rippling through the floor from the force. The scratching in the vents above amplified. The Variants were growing more desperate.
More gunshots. These were closer. The crack echoed through the building. Then there were footsteps in the medical ward. Heavy boots.
A soldier.
Kate’s brief feeling of hope collapsed with the ceiling in front of her. She shielded the girls as panels and beams crashed down. Pulling them to her chest, she closed her eyes. Ellis joined them, wrapping his arms around them the best he could.
The pop of gunfire rang out in all directions.
There were screams. Indecipherable. Kate couldn’t tell if they were human or Variant. She cracked an eyelid to see two of the creatures covered in dust and blood. Both of them were badly burned, just like the one in the ICU. Riley fired without hesitation. The bullets peppered the lead creature with holes, its chest jerking from each impact.
It let a screech fly and tilted its head toward Rod. A swollen tongue circled its sucker as it lunged for the man. He didn’t get off a single shot before it overwhelmed him, wrapping limbs around his waist and clamping down on his chest with its sucker.
“No!” Rod screamed. “Help me!” The clatter from the other door and the pop of gunshots shrouded his pleas.
Kate held the girls closer as the other Variant skidded away on the tips of its claws. The monster leapt from the floor to the wall and crawled across the horizontal surface, joints clicking with every motion. Riley fired the rest of his magazine. Bullets tore into the creature’s flesh, blood spraying across the white wall.
“Kill it!” Kate screamed.
The doors to the ICU shook again. Both girls clung to her. Their fingers dug into her back.
Riley snapped a new magazine in and fired at the injured Variant racing across the wall. A bullet took off the top of its skull and it fell to the ground, spasms shaking it violently. Riley took careful aim and then fired one last shot into the creature’s head. Then he twisted in his chair, and fired at the monster that was busy bashing in Rod’s head. The toxicologist had stopped moaning. His eyes were gone, lost in the sunken crater that had been his face.
Another tremor shook the locked doors to the ICU. Kate forced her gaze away from Rod’s mangled body.
Riley fiddled with the pistol. “It’s fucking jammed!”
The Variant growled and twisted toward him, still perched over Rod. Tilting its head, it blinked as if it was trying to focus. It looked at Riley, compressed its swollen lips and then stood. Riley continued to work the jammed bullet out of the chamber as the creature walked toward him.
Kate couldn’t believe her eyes. She’d never seen one move without a sense of urgency. But this one seemed relaxed. Confident, even. The creature knew Riley couldn’t inflict any harm. It was like a cat playing with its food. Toying with them.
She couldn’t look away from the bulging blue veins covering its pale, wrinkled skin or the thin strands of white hair hanging over its vertical yellow pupils. The Variant had undergone a complete transformation, from its talons to its sucker lips.
Blood oozed from a bullet wound in the creature’s muscular chest. It stopped to examine Ellis, Kate, and the girls, slanting its head at an angle. It squeezed its lips together again and then opened its mouth to reveal jagged, broken teeth. Slurping, it turned back to Riley.
“Fuck,” he said. Giving up, he launched the pistol at the creature and raised his fists. “Come on, you piece of shit.” He kept his eyes locked on the pale beast and yelled, “Run! Take the girls and—”
Before he could finish, the lock hardware to the door leading to the first medical ward exploded. The metal swung open, and a soldier wielding a machine gun rushed into the room. He was drenched in blood. He looked like he’d taken a bath in it, and Kate couldn’t see his face well enough to identify him. Then she noticed the metal blades attached to his knees, glistening scarlet.
“Fitz!” Kate shouted.
The Variant’s yellow eyes widened, the vertical slits blinking rapidly like it was trying to comprehend what had just happened.
“Get behind me!” Fitz yelled. He opened fire at the creature. The rounds ripped into its chest and broke through the other side, painting the hallway with red. The monster shrieked, blood bursting from its mouth.
Fitz continued past Riley, who still held his fists in front of him. He fired again and again, but the Variant wouldn’t go down. It stepped forward on blackened, burnt legs and held its ground.
Raising his muzzle ever so slightly, Fitz stopped three feet away from the monster and aimed for its head. It let out one final screech but was silenced by the gunshot. The creature’s skull exploded like a piñata.
Fitz hovered over the corpse, fresh blood dripping from his body. Wiping an arm over his face, he reloaded and aimed his rifle at the dented door at the other end of the hallway. “Stay here,” he said.
Ellis helped Kate to her feet and then ran over to grab Rod’s gun. She handed it to Riley, and they huddled together in the middle of the hallway.
“Stop,” Riley shouted, holding up a hand. Fitz shot him a glare that said, I got this. He aimed his rifle at the lock and watched as the crazed Variant continued to smash into the door.
Kate gritted her teeth.
Fitz waited for the creature to strike again. He reached forward, unlocked the door, and then backed away. A second later the burnt creature came smashing through the right door, skidding face-first across the floor. It scrambled and thrashed as it attempted to regain its balance. But Fitz was already firing. It was over in less than five seconds. The creature flopped and let out one final gasp.
“That’s all of ‘em in this building.” Fitz said in a nonchalant tone. “You guys okay?”
Kate nodded and then cupped a hand over her mouth when she saw the floor an
d walls of the ICU behind him. Tina’s body lay in a puddle of her own blood, her hand only inches from the door.
“We better move,” Fitz said. “There could be more outside.”
Every helmet on Delta and Charlie team gravitated toward Beckham and his new company. The two teams were set up along the chest-high wall separating them from a twenty-six-floor drop. Ryan used his elbow pad to break out a final shard of glass and then hefted his MK11 onto the ledge.
“This is Jake and his son, Timothy,” Beckham said as they approached the strike team. He moved his mini-mic back to his lips. “Charlie and Delta in position.”
“Copy that,” Lieutenant Gates replied. “FOB is established. I’ll inform Command.”
Jake grabbed his son’s hand and stepped up to the window next to Beckham. The two men looked over the side, the wind rustling through their hair.
Several tents and a generator were set up below. The three Humvees were parked in a triangle, with the FOB shielded by the trucks. The .50 cals were angled in opposite directions and the TOW launchers on the Bradleys were facing the park.
No matter how impressive the firepower was, Beckham knew there was no way in hell it would hold off an enemy numbering in the hundreds of thousands.
“Glad to see someone else made it,” Jensen said, pulling Beckham’s attention from the view below. He examined Jake and Timothy for a moment and said, “You’re a cop?”
“Was a cop,” Jake said. “The last of our group tried to leave the city a few days ago. We lost contact with them a few hours later. Those things have nests and—”
Ryan’s raised voice cut the man off before he could explain further. “We got movement.”
Beckham rushed back to the wall for a look. His stomach dropped as he approached. Was this it? Were the Variants finally attacking?
A gust of wind pushed Beckham back. He fought his way closer.
“I don’t see shit,” Horn said.
Ryan angled his MK11 toward the library. “Front steps.”
Beckham scoped the grounds and zeroed in on the motion. Sure enough, dozens of Variants swarmed out of the building. The clanging of weapons vibrated through the room as the men shifted their rifles toward the motion.
Extinction Edge (The Extinction Cycle Book 2) Page 23
