by P. T. Hylton
Contents
Title
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Epilogue
- Authors Note (and a free book)
- About the Authors
THE SAVAGE EARTH
PT Hylton & Jonathan Benecke
Chapter 1
Alexandria Goddard hoped there’d be trouble. She didn’t say it out loud, of course, none of them did, but when you spent your life training to fight an enemy, it was only natural that you’d hope to meet them now and again if only to bump chests and show them you meant business.
Her commanding officer, Captain Brickman—CB to the team—apparently had other ideas.
“This is a quick mission. We should be in and out in no more than a couple hours. We’ll stay on the east side of the building, in the sunlight. Even still, I don’t want anyone taking any chances in there.”
Alex sighed. CB was a good commanding officer, but he was cautious to a fault.
They were standing in the hold of the Ground Mission Team’s ship. Alex cast an anxious glance at the still-closed cargo door. She wanted to get this show on the road.
“Our Engineering department is in need of a certain kind of heating element,” he continued. “Just so happens that this heating element was part of a common household appliance back in the day.”
He held up a tablet and passed it down the line so all five members of the Ground Mission Team got a good look. It showed a picture of a small, boxy appliance with a glass pitcher nestled inside it.
“It was used to make a hot, bitter drink called coffee. Apparently, they were all addicted to it, and nearly every kitchen had one of these things. Your goal is to go from apartment to apartment, grabbing as many of these as you can. Working together, we should be in and out in two hours.”
Alex nudged Drew Layton, the man sitting beside her. “Wanna make a bet on who bags one of these things first?”
Drew chuckled. At thirty years old, he was five years older than Alex. He’d been on the team three years longer than her, and he never missed the opportunity to give anyone on the team a hard time. “How about we go for total count? You might be quicker than me, but I’ll bet I put you to shame long-term.”
Alex grinned. “You’re on. You’ll be buying drinks tonight. Again.”
“You got lucky last time. If it hadn’t been for my shotgun jamming, I would have won.”
“It’s the poor carpenter who blames his tools, my man.”
CB shot them a look, and they fell silent. “Drew, Firefly, and Alex, you’ll be going down. Simmons and I will stay topside. Any questions?”
“No, sir,” the team said in unison.
“Good. Let’s go to work. If you would, Owl.”
The pilot’s voice came through their earpieces. “Roger that, Captain.”
The cargo door began to open with a mechanical whir, and Alex stared out at the ruins of what had once been the city of São Paulo, Brazil.
Dorothy “Owl” Fowler’s voice came through their earpieces again. “São Paulo was the twelfth largest city in the world and the largest city in the western hemisphere.”
“Do we have to do this now, Owl?” CB asked.
“It is sort of tradition, Captain,” Simmons said.
Alex glanced at him. She knew Simmons well enough to be sure he wasn’t very happy to be staying behind on this mission, but he wasn’t the type to complain. He’d do his job and hope for a better assignment next time out. He was a true professional.
“Fine, get it over with,” CB said.
“The city’s population peaked around thirteen million before the infestation,” Owl continued. “The official language of Brazil was Portuguese, and the city’s official motto was I am not led, I lead.”
“Somebody take away her almanac,” Drew joked.
The cargo door finished opening, and Alex leaned out and looked down at the city below. They were hovering one hundred feet above a skyscraper that seemed to be mostly intact. Even from up here, Alex could see that plant life had reclaimed most of the city. The streets were a patchwork of broken pavement with trees growing through the massive cracks, and ivy clung thickly to the face of most of the structures. The top section of the building directly below them was clear of ivy, which was part of the reason they’d selected it.
“There’s no way for us to be sure of the structural integrity of the building,” CB said, “so we’ll hover here and lower you down. Ready to roll?”
Alex was more than ready. She clipped the rope to her vest and prepared to be lowered down.
Drew grabbed her arm. “Wait for me on the roof. It’s not fair if you start working before I get down there.”
“I know. You need every advantage you can get.” She stepped out the cargo door and hung suspended in the air, the decaying city of São Paulo stretched below her. The wind was brisk up here, and it whipped against her fatigues. Even still, there was something peaceful about hanging here, neither on the ship nor the surface, but somewhere in between.
Her feet touched down on the concrete roof, and she unclipped the rope from her vest. As the other two were lowered down, she looked for a place to secure her rope. They’d be rappelling down the side of the building from here. By the time Firefly and Drew touched down, she was ready to begin her descent.
Her two teammates soon joined her on the building’s edge.
“Ready?” Firefly asked.
Alex briefly considered whether she should have included Firefly in the wager, but she quickly dismissed the thought. He wasn’t interested in such things. He was probably busy moping that he wasn’t going to get to blow anything up on this trip.
“Ready,” Alex said.
Drew and Firefly leaned back and began carefully rappelling their way down the structure.
Alex waited another moment, enjoying one last look out at the city before going to work. She pulled out a pistol, took a deep breath, and leaped backward over the edge.
She’d gathered fifteen feet of slack in her rope before jumping, and she quickly dipped past Drew and Firefly. The rope went taut as she reached the bottom of her slack and swung like a pendulum toward the building. She raised her pistol and fired three quick shots into the window in front of her.
She crashed through the shattering window feet first and swung into what had once been the living room of a luxury apartment. Her feet touched down lightly on the still-beautiful hardwood floor. Sunlight streamed
in from the floor-to-ceiling hole that had until moments ago been a window.
Alex quickly located the kitchen. Sure enough, the appliance CB had shown them was sitting out on the counter, ready for the taking. She took the duffle bag off her back, unzipped it, and stuffed the appliance inside.
She touched the radio strapped to her chest and spoke into her headset microphone. “That’s one. What’s taking you guys so long?”
***
Over the next hour and a half, Alex, Drew, and Firefly worked their way down, apartment by apartment. They stayed on the east side of the building, where the morning sunlight shone strong. The layout of every apartment was nearly identical, so they were able to move quickly. Only a few kitchens didn’t have the appliance, though occasionally they had to go digging through the cabinets to find it.
Alex shoved another coffee maker into her duffle bag, twisting so it fit and the zipper still closed. “Captain, I’m full. Sending my bag up.”
“Roger that,” CB said in through her earpiece.
She reached out the shattered window and grabbed the rope dangling from the ship. For a woozy moment, she rested her weight on it and looked down twenty stories to the broken streets below. Then she attached her bag and gave it two quick tugs. The bag began its ascent toward the ship.
“Shame you have to wait for them to empty your bag, Alex,” Drew said in her earpiece. “I’m on number forty-three.”
Alex cursed softly. She was only one ahead of him now, and this level was just about cleaned out. The sun was rising fast, which meant they were losing their direct sunlight into the building. CB wouldn’t let them stay down here much longer.
She grabbed her rappelling rope and leaned out. A shadow from the next building fell across her face. Glancing down, she confirmed the next level was draped in shade.
Two gunshots split the air as Drew entered his next apartment. A moment later, he proudly proclaimed, “Forty-four. All tied up.”
Screw it, she was done waiting. CB could lower the bag to her on the next level down. She checked her rope one more time, then leaned backward out the window and hopped downward, out of the sunlight. It felt five degrees cooler in the shade, and goosebumps sprang out on her arms as the icy wind licked her skin.
She looked up and saw Firefly on the side of the building two floors above. He glanced down at her, a curious expression on his face, but he didn’t say anything.
Alex shot the window and entered the apartment. It suddenly struck her that this might not be an altogether wise move. They’d been making one hell of a racket all morning, and now she was stepping out of the safety of the sunlight.
She raised her pistol, doing a quick visual scan of the living room. She appeared to be alone.
The appliance wasn’t on the counter in the kitchen. Crap. Was she risking her life for nothing in here? She started digging through cabinets.
CB’s voice came through her earpiece. “Alex, what’s your twenty?”
She pushed aside pots and pans, but came up empty and moved on to the higher cabinets, keeping one eye on the living room for movement. “I dropped down a level, sir.”
“Are you in the shade right now?” CB’s voice betrayed his concern.
“A little. But I’ll be back in the sun in a moment.” She opened the cabinet next to the refrigerator and hit pay dirt. The cabinet was stuffed with a handful of appliances, and there, in the back, was the one she was after. She knocked the others out of the way to get to it.
“Don’t be an idiot, Alex!” CB said.
“Captain, I’m sending up another bag,” Firefly said.
“Okay, I’m calling it,” CB said. “We’ve got enough. You three head back up.”
“Forty-five,” Alex said triumphantly.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Drew said with a moan.
Something in the living room moved, and Alex spun toward the motion, pistol raised.
The living room was empty now, and yet she was almost sure she’d seen something.
She backed toward the window, keeping her gun trained on the living room. “Where are you, you bastard?” she whispered.
As she reached the window and clipped herself in, a low, animalistic growl came from somewhere deep in the apartment.
“Alex, you coming?” CB said.
Alex’s heart was racing. She stepped off the edge and hung in the air, never taking her eyes off the apartment’s dark interior. “I’m all set, Captain. Let’s go back to New Haven.”
Chapter 2
Two hours after returning to New Haven, Alex headed to a bar called Tankards out near the agricultural district. It was a long walk from the GMT headquarters, but it was worth it for the quiet and the anonymity. To get there, she had to pass through Sparrow’s Ridge, the neighborhood with the densest population in the city, and through the Hub, the center of all things, where the most important members of society lived in more spacious quarters.
The bartender, Louie, gave her a friendly nod as she entered but didn’t say a word. That was part of what she loved about this place. Louie understood people weren’t coming here for lively conversations with him. People came to this inconveniently located bar because they either wanted to be alone or wanted to have a conversation away from the prying ears that were all too prevalent in the busier sections of town. Keeping secrets in New Haven was difficult.
Alex headed straight for a large table in the corner. She knew Drew, Firefly, Owl, and maybe even Simmons would be along shortly for a post-mission drink. The team needed to wind down after a dangerous mission like the one today, and they nearly always ended up here, in an unspoken, unplanned practice that was becoming a tradition.
The bar was nearly empty tonight, and it was quiet enough that Alex could hear two men at a nearby table talking in hushed tones.
“It’s a pipe dream,” the first man said. He was heavyset and spoke in a low, rumbly voice.
“Maybe it was,” the other said. He was short, thin, and had a truly impressive mustache. “Now we’ve got Fleming on our side. Resettlement is a very real possibility. It could happen in the next few years.”
The fat one scoffed.
“Mark my words,” the one with the mustache said. “Councilman Fleming isn’t like the others. He’s gonna make things happen.”
Alex did her best to ignore the conversation. The last thing she wanted to do when she was supposed to be unwinding was to think about politics. Still, it was always there in the background whether she chose to think about it or not. The City Council was in charge of the GMT and approved everything from their budget to their missions. She saw the direct impact of the decisions the Council made up close and personal. She and her teammates were weapons the Council aimed to help achieve their ends. So maybe she should care a little more about politics.
Louie set a beer down in front of her, and she nodded her thanks before he turned and walked wordlessly back to his station behind the bar.
Alex took a long pull on her beer. There was something wonderful about these post-mission nights. She’d spent the day in the former country of Brazil, rappelling down a skyscraper, facing down the possibility of an attack at any moment. And the people of New Haven had no idea. The secrets, the things she and her team had been through, burned like a lantern in her heart. Very few people alive had experienced the things she had. That thought—the understanding of her lucky and unique position in life—kept her going even when things got tough.
The bell above the entrance chimed, and Alex looked up to see if it was one of her teammates. A group of three women entered, all talking at once. She shook her head and went back to her beer.
A moment later, her radio chirped. She muttered a curse and grabbed it off her belt. Members of the Ground Mission Team were required to carry a radio at all times. They were always on call—just another perk of the job.
“Goddard here,” she said into the radio.
“Alex, I need you back at the hangar.” It was CB.
Alex’s heart sped up just a little. Could it be another mission already? “Sure thing, Captain. What’s going on?”
“I just got word Councilman Stearns is swinging by in an hour. You ready to give him that little demonstration we’ve been talking about?”
A slow grin spread across her face. “Yes, sir, I believe I am.” She signed off, finished her beer in one long drink, and headed out the door.
***
Captain Arnold Brickman didn’t often get nervous. Over the course of his twenty-five years with the GMT, he’d seen too much. He’d witnessed unbelievable feats of courage and watched as friends and colleagues died in the heat of battle. He was a careful man, especially when it came to planning his team’s missions, so it would be easy for someone who didn’t know him very well to mistake his caution for nervousness. He’d faced down things on his missions that had changed him. He liked to think they’d made him wiser. But nervous? No. That was something he felt very rarely these days.
Yet he had to admit that the impending visit of Councilman Stearns put a strange tightness in his stomach that bore at least a passing resemblance to nerves.
CB and his commanding officer General Isiah Craig had been trying to get Stearns to visit the GMT headquarters for over a month now. The primary purpose of the visit was to demonstrate a new type of jetpack the GMT’s Research and Development team had created, but the larger goal was to get the Council to increase funding for R&D all around. General Craig and CB hoped that if Councilman Stearns saw the jetpack they’d been able to build with the shoestring budget they’d been working on, he might be more inclined to see what they could do with some real resources.
CB turned to Alex, who was standing next to him, dressed in a flight suit, the lightweight jetpack barely visible on her back. “You ready for this?”
“Yes, sir,” Alex said.
“Good. We won’t get a second chance. The key here is control. Stearns already knows this thing’s expensive. We need to convince him it’s worth the resources.”
The plan was for Alex to demonstrate the jetpack by hovering fifteen feet in the air inside the hangar. CB wanted to show the ability of the jetpack to operate accurately in tight quarters. If they wanted to see more, Alex would zoom around the hangar, showing her control of the device. Alex was good with the jetpack, and he was confident the Councilman would be impressed.
