Extinction Age

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “I’m sorry, Kate,” Beckham finally whispered. “I was an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.”

  Kate pulled her head away from his chest and rolled herself up onto her elbow.

  “I’m sorry, too,” she said. Her hair fell over her face, and Beckham reached over and brushed it away.

  Kate searched Beckham’s brown eyes. She touched his lips with a fingertip and leaned in to kiss him lightly. The kiss wasn’t an invitation but a reassurance that she was there, that they could just be.

  “Is Apollo okay?” Beckham asked. Kate felt his chest muscles tense as he lifted his head off the pillow.

  “He’s still undergoing tests. The Hemorrhage virus isn’t communicable across most species.” Kate said. “There have been some cases, however, where that isn’t the case—primates, for example—so we’re taking precautions. We should know more by tonight.”

  Beckham nodded and relaxed his head. “You better get to the lab.”

  “Will you be able to sleep?”

  He let out a sigh. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “I’ll be back around dinner time. We can go to the service together. Okay?”

  Beckham nodded and pulled his arm away from Kate, using it to prop up his head. He gave her a meaningful look, letting his eyes do the talking.

  Kate leaned in to kiss him one more time and then left him there. She clicked off the light on the way out but didn’t turn around, fearing she wouldn’t be able to leave if she did.

  She walked to the lab in silence, her mind a mess of worry. Ellis was already busy at his station. She quickly suited up and hovered her keycard over the security panel. The door chirped at her and Ellis turned. A shit-eating grin broke across his face when he saw her.

  “Kate, we did it!”

  “Did what?”

  “The results from the HTS system just came back. We discovered a protein only expressed by the Variants.”

  “You’re certain?” She went to his station and stared incredulously at the protein’s tertiary structure on his monitor.

  “I’m more than certain,” Ellis said. “I’ve run the results through a sequencing database and compared spectra results with the database of known human proteins. There isn’t a single match. Nothing even comes close.”

  Kate took a seat at the station and went over the notes.

  “I’ve already started mass spectrometry along with a peptide mass fingerprint to characterize and sequence the protein,” Ellis continued.

  “Do we know the function?” Kate asked before he could finish.

  Ellis shook his head. “I’m still working on it.”

  “Good,” Kate said without taking her gaze from the screen. “But for now let’s focus on developing an antibody to target the protein.”

  Ellis grinned even wider. “I’m already one step ahead of you.”

  Raised voices pulled Beckham from the grips of a deep sleep. He reached for his sidearm, forgetting at first where he was. Moonlight streamed through the shades covering the window. In its glow, he saw a picture of Kate and her brother on the bedside table next to the sleek outline of his new Beretta M9.

  He sat up and rubbed his shoulder with a fingertip. Crusted blood came off under his nails. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and then made his way to the small sink and mirror in the corner of the room. Four days’ worth of facial hair could almost be considered a beard. He snorted at the sight. Between the bags under his eyes, the jaundice circles of old bruises, and the cuts on his face, he looked worse than ever.

  Beckham palmed the sink with both hands and leaned in to stare at his reflection. His gaze shifted to Kate’s grooming products, and without further thought he grabbed a small pair of scissors and went to work. He trimmed his overgrown mop of dark hair as best he could. A rap on the door came just as he finished shaving his chin. He’d had to use one of her razors and some pink shaving foam that smelled like strawberries, but it had gotten the job done. He turned to see Kate peeking inside.

  “Reed, people are starting to gather outside. Are you…”

  “Yeah, I’m ready,” Beckham said. He ran a hand over his shortly cropped hair and faced her.

  “Wow, you look a little bit different. But I like…”

  Beckham stopped her mid-sentence by striding over and pulling her to his chest.

  “We’re going to get through this. And when it’s all over, there’s going to be a place for us,” he said.

  She leaned her head back and found his eyes. “You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that, Reed.”

  Kate leaned in to kiss him and made a face. “Why do you smell like a daiquiri?”

  Beckham felt a smile starting. He didn’t let it finish. Now was time to honor his brothers. He turned one more time to look at the mirror. The man staring back looked like he was ready to go to war, not stand in a ceremony.

  -14-

  A shelf of clouds drifted across the moon, but the sky was alive with stars. Beckham and Kate stood on the steps outside Building 1, hand in hand. The perpetual glow of cities that had polluted the sky just a month ago was gone. The once great metropolises were now home only to Variants.

  Beckham pulled Kate away from the door to make room for Horn and his girls. Both operators wore the uniforms they had been issued when they arrived at the island. Missing were the medals they had earned in distant lands, in a time when Beckham’s biggest fear had been terrorists. He never thought he’d feel nostalgic for his time in Iraq and Afghanistan.

  He shook the thoughts from his head as Horn led his girls onto the landing. Beckham’s heart ached when he saw Jenny and Tasha in clean white dresses they must have gotten from another family on the island. Their curly red hair was neatly braided, and their small faces were solemn.

  “Ready?” Horn asked. He grabbed Tasha and Jenny’s hands and helped them down the steps. The wrinkles in their dresses disappeared in the soft breeze.

  Halfway down the path, Beckham saw the silhouetted outline of a wheelchair. The only other remaining original member of Team Ghost waited outside the barracks. Fitz and Chow flanked Riley on both sides, their arms crossed.

  Beckham squeezed Kate’s hand tighter.

  Their group grew in size as Fitz, Riley, and Chow fell into line behind Beckham and the others. He walked alongside Kate, his pace slow but purposeful. It felt a lot like marching. Beckham considered saying something but decided to save his words for the service.

  The garish flicker from a bonfire glowed over Building 3, urging Beckham and the others onward. Besides a few patrols, the base looked deserted. The remaining population had gathered on the beach.

  “Girls, you wanna help push?” Riley asked, cutting through the silence. “I’m not going to be in this thing much longer. Might be your last chance.” He twisted in his chair and gestured to Tasha and Jenny with a hand.

  The girls looked up for their father’s approval. He offered it with a nod, and Jenny grabbed the back of Riley’s chair.

  “Not too fast!” Riley said, as Tasha gripped the other handle. The girls put all of their strength into pushing Riley, giggling. The kid had always been one of the bright spirits that helped Team Ghost through the darkest of times.

  Beckham checked the guard towers as they walked. Each had two soldiers inside. The long muzzles of their rifles looked out over the island.

  “Better let me, girls,” Chow said when they reached the gravel path that wrapped around Building 3. He took over and guided Riley’s chair, rock crunching under the wheels.

  The leaves of trees rustled softly overhead. Beckham squeezed his way out in front and pulled Kate ahead. He halted at the edge of the shoreline, his breath stripped away by the sight of the white crosses in the dirt separating the beach from the trees.

  “Daddy, is Mommy buried over there?” Tasha asked.

  Horn bent down and scooped her up. His features tensed in the glow from the bonfire raging on the beach below.

  “No, sweetie,” Horn said, cuppi
ng the back of her head with a large, gentle hand.

  Beckham said a mental prayer for those civilians and soldiers buried in the fresh graves. Jinx was the only soldier they’d managed to recover during their missions outside of the island. The rest of Team Ghost and the Rangers and Marines from Fort Bragg were lost. Building 8, New York City, and the Truxtun had claimed them. He still hated himself for leaving Timbo behind, but he understood the reason.

  Kate squeezed his hand as they continued walking. Beckham’s heart swelled in his chest when he saw Jinx’s body resting on a cot draped with a US flag. A shovel marked the spot where they would lay him to rest. They would not erect a tombstone or lay flowers at Jinx’s grave. It was Islamic tradition, one Jinx had asked them to honor long ago when they’d shared their plans for how they wanted to be buried.

  Jinx had been a jokester on the outside, but beneath that he had also been a deeply spiritual man. Beckham had always respected him for that. Team Ghost had been the only ones who knew their brother was Muslim, but it hadn’t mattered to them, even in a time where the War on Terror had brought a wave of anti-Islamic sentiment. He was their brother, in life and in death.

  Jensen met them on the sand and said, “I’ll give you a few minutes to honor Staff Sergeant Jinx.”

  Beckham appreciated Jensen’s display of respect and nodded. He dropped Kate’s hand and felt a little tug on his sleeve. He looked down and saw Jenny’s questioning face turned up to him.

  “Is that Mister Jinx?”

  “Yes,” Beckham replied. He leaned down and gave her a hug, glancing up at Kate as he embraced Jenny. “Stay with them, please.”

  “Come here, girls,” Kate said, her arms outstretched.

  “Let’s go, Team Ghost,” Beckham said, jerking his chin toward the graves. Chow, Riley and Horn followed him, but Fitz hesitated as if he was unsure if he was welcome.

  Beckham waved the Marine onward, a small gesture to tell him he had earned the right. He was their brother now, just as much as Jinx had been.

  Fitz trudged through the sand, his blades sinking with every step. Chow struggled, too, grunting as he pushed Riley’s chair.

  “Help me up,” Riley said. “I’m not sitting down for this.”

  “You sure, kid?” Horn asked.

  “Yeah, Big Horn,” Riley said. He grabbed the arm guards to hoist himself up.

  Horn shrugged and looked at Chow. Together, the two operators pulled Riley from his chair and carried him under his arms to the gravesite.

  “Fitz,” Beckham said. “Can you help Riley keep his feet?”

  The Marine nodded and took Riley’s weight from Chow, who joined Beckham beside the cot. Together they lifted the flag, revealing Jinx’s body wrapped in the traditional funeral shroud of his faith.

  Beckham and Chow stepped to the side and folded the flag in silence. When they’d finished, Chow carried the banner and handed it to Riley, who cradled it against his stomach. Beckham took a knee next to Jinx’s body.

  “Rest in peace, brother,” he whispered.

  “Hope you’re in a better place, bro,” Chow said. He crouched down and placed a hand on Jinx’s chest.

  “Help me with him,” Beckham said. He grabbed Jinx under the arms and Chow picked up his feet. They gently hoisted his body off the cot.

  “Careful,” Chow said.

  They lowered him into the wooden box already in the grave with exaggerated care. Chow bowed his head and whispered a prayer under his breath. He let out a deep sigh, tore the shovel from the dirt, and began filling in his best friend’s grave. Beckham and the other men watched in silence, the crimson glow from the fire glimmering over Chow’s silhouette as he worked.

  No color guard stood ready to offer a volley of shots. Jinx wasn’t receiving a burial at Arlington, just an unmarked grave on the beach, surrounded by what was left of his brothers in arms.

  When Chow finished, he pulled his sleeve over his forehead and jammed the shovel back into the dirt. The breeze rippled their uniforms as they stood and paid their final respects. After a long silence, Riley held out the folded flag to Chow, who took it and held it over his heart.

  The sound of a barking dog came across the wind as Beckham led his men back down the beach. Several figures were making their way through the trees behind Building 3. Apollo darted toward Beckham the moment he saw him.

  “Apollo,” Beckham said. “Come here, boy.”

  The dog stopped and sat a few feet away, looking up with obsidian eyes and wagging his tail. Beckham patted his head and then snapped his fingers. Apollo quickly followed him down the beach toward the bonfire.

  A crowd was gathered around the flames, watching embers shoot into the night sky. Jensen met Beckham at the edge of the beach.

  “I’m not much for speeches,” Jensen said. “But I need to inform everyone about the change in command. Hate to do it now, but I’m not sure when General Kennor will send my replacement.”

  “Best to do it when everyone is here,” Beckham said.

  Jensen offered a rueful nod that told Beckham the officer was doing his best to keep it together. After the massacre in New York and the horror on the Truxtun, he looked like he’d aged fifteen years.

  “Mind if I say a few words after you?” Beckham asked.

  “I was hoping you would,” Jensen said. He patted Beckham on the back and they joined the crowd. Kate and Ellis stood next to Horn’s girls. Beside them was a woman on crutches whom Beckham didn’t recognize at first until Riley called out, “Hey, Meg!”

  It was no wonder he hadn’t recognized her. Meg was still covered in bruises and cuts, but her dark eyes were lively instead of haunted and her hair was neatly swept into a ponytail. She cracked a smile and waved with a crutch. The smile widened when she saw Beckham.

  “Master Sergeant,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to thank you for saving my life.”

  Beckham didn’t mean to frown, but felt his brow forming one anyway. “You don’t need to thank me.”

  “Yes. Yes, I do. If it weren’t for you, I would have died in that awful place.”

  Jensen cleared his throat across the bonfire, interrupting their conversation.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said. “Tonight we pay our respects to those that we’ve lost in this war. Mothers, fathers. Sisters and brothers. Children…” He paused and bowed his head. “I want to take a few minutes for those of us who believe in a higher power to pray.”

  Beckham grabbed Kate’s hand. Apollo leaned against his legs and whined softly. The fire crackled and popped as the crowd paid their silent respects.

  “Thank you,” Jensen said after a moment of quiet. “I also want to inform you of some changes. General Kennor has revoked my command. He’s sending his own men to take over this post.”

  A few whispered conversations broke out, civilians turning to one another in confusion and alarm.

  “I hope you will all show our new commander the respect you have shown me, and I thank you for your support during my tenure. There are difficult days ahead, but together, we can—we will—get through them,” Jensen said. He spotted Beckham in the crowd and waved him over.

  “Sit,” Beckham said to Apollo.

  Beckham tugged on the sides of his uniform to straighten it. He walked over to Jensen, saluted, and waited for Jensen to return the salute. The formalities done, Beckham shook the officer’s hand.

  “Thank you, sir,” Beckham said. He faced the crowd and exhaled. He wasn’t a man of many words, but tonight he had a few. He shifted his gaze from face to face, stopping on Horn’s.

  “Sheila Horn was a good mother and wife to Staff Sergeant Parker Horn. We lost her at Fort Bragg, along with so many of our Delta brothers. We lost even more in New York and then on the Truxtun.” Beckham paused, his voice cracking. As he scanned those in front of him, he knew that they’d all lost brothers and sisters in the war. He didn’t want to single out his own men. “Tonight we remember everyone who has fallen.”

  “Amen,” said
someone in the crowd.

  “I know you’re all scared. You have every right to be. I’m scared, too. But I’m also certain that the human race will overcome,” Beckham continued.

  He looked at Kate, her face bathed in the orange light of the bonfire. She smiled back at him.

  “I promise you that my men and I will do everything in our power to keep you safe while Dr. Lovato develops a new weapon,” Beckham said. “Our future begins here, and together we will defeat the Variants and we will retake our cities.”

  The clapping and cheering of the small crowd was drowned out by the sound of an approaching helicopter. Several of the civilians pointed at the sky, and Beckham threw a glance over his shoulder. The outline of a Chinook exploded from the clouds. It circled the island and then disappeared over the trees to land on the tarmac beyond.

  Jensen stepped up to Beckham’s side. “General Kennor moves fast.”

  “Yes, he sure does, sir,” Beckham replied.

  “Thank you all!” Jensen shouted. “If you’ll follow Major Smith to the gravesites, we will continue the service.”

  The crowd had started to disperse when raised voices sounded from the main campus. Half a dozen men decked out in black fatigues and body armor emerged from the trees. They jogged onto the beach carrying scoped SCAR rifles.

  “Lieutenant Colonel Jensen,” one of the men shouted.

  “You didn’t waste any time,” Jensen said.

  Beckham stood his ground next to Jensen as the team approached. The officer leading the group halted and balled his hand into a fist. Then he pushed his black helmet up, revealing a face pockmarked with acne scars and a pair of striking blue eyes.

  “Colonel Wood. It’s been a while,” Jensen said. “I haven’t seen you since, what? That joint project with Colonel Gibson?” He placed careful emphasis on the words, as if wanting to make sure that Beckham heard them.

  “Sounds right,” Wood replied dryly. “Wish I was here to give you good news, but as you know I’m here to relieve you of your command. If you would please come with us, we have a lot to discuss.” He stretched out an arm, fingers pointed back toward the buildings.