Chow wore a hardened look that told Beckham he was still harboring anger inside for Jinx’s death. He’d suppressed it on the Truxtun, but Beckham was worried Chow couldn’t hold it in forever.
Beckham looked at Lombardi next and said, “Have you faced the Variants in the field?”
“Does dealing with them here on the island count?”
Horn laughed. “Nope.”
Lombardi nervously scratched his beak of a nose. Beckham made a note to keep him off point when they reached the objective. Dealing with Variants chained to the ground in holding cells was much different than out in the wild.
Ahead, civilians and soldiers were gathering at the concrete barriers on the edge of the tarmac. The sight of Kate, Meg, Riley, Fitz, and Horn’s girls sent a chill through Beckham, a combination of pride and fear. There were other familiar faces that stuck out in the crowd. Red and Donna stood there with Bo. The boy caught Beckham’s gaze and raised a small hand into the air.
Beckham walked over to them and slung his rifle over his shoulder. “How are you guys doing?”
“Can’t complain,” Red replied. “Got a warm bed and enough food. We have you to thank for that.”
Donna smiled and pulled Bo closer to her. “Did you want to tell Master Sergeant Beckham something?”
Bo tucked his head against her stomach and then twisted his face slightly so that one eye was on Beckham. He grinned and said, “Thank you, Mr. Master Sergeant.”
“Welcome, kid,” Beckham said. He exchanged a nod with Red and continued toward Kate and the others.
Tasha and Jenny rushed over to Horn. Jenny wrapped her arms around his right leg and said, “Don’t go, Daddy!”
Beckham’s heart melted at the sight. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”
“Promise,” Tasha said.
“Promise.” Beckham gave her a hug and then walked over to the group of Fitz, Riley, and Meg, saving Kate for last.
“Fitz, Kid. You guys look after everyone while were gone, okay?”
“Will do, Boss,” Riley said.
Fitz nodded. “Wish I was coming.”
“So do I,” Riley said, his eyes downcast.
Beckham considered his next words carefully. “Protecting these people is just as important. ,” he said. “If the Variants attack the island again, we need both of you to hold them off.”
“Don’t forget about me,” Meg said. She stroked the handle of a knife tucked into her waistband and winked at Beckham.
“That’s not the same one I loaned you in New York is it?”
“Nope. Riley gave it to me.”,” Meg said.
A shit-eating grin streaked across Riley’s face, and Beckham couldn’t hold back a chuckle. The kid had always loved women, and he’d made it no secret that he was attracted to Meg. From what little he knew about her, giving her a knife was better than a bouquet of flowers.
The sad whine of a dog sounded over the chatter from the crowd. Apollo sat at Kate’s feet. Like Fitz and Riley, the dog would protect her to the end. Beckham continued over to them and locked eyes with Kate.
“Try not to worry,” he said.
She folded her arms across her chest and frowned. “You know that’s not going to happen.”
“I’m coming home,” Beckham said. “I promise you.” He planted a delicate kiss on her lips and then gave Apollo a quick rub on the head.
“Be careful,” Kate said.
Beckham nodded and kissed her again. The blades of the Blackhawks were already chopping through the air in the distance, and he forced himself to pull away.
“Let’s go,” Beckham said. He began to lead his team to the birds but had to stop when Apollo darted after them.
“You have to stay here, boy,” Beckham said.
Apollo whined and sat down, his tail thumping forlornly. Beckham waved his men on, and they continued across the tarmac toward Jensen and Smith.
“Good luck,” Jensen said. He reached out to shake Beckham’s hand and added, “You know I’d come with if I could.”
“I know, sir.”
Jensen’s lips spread into a small grin beneath his mustache. “If you find any chew in the warehouse, snag a few cans.”
“Will do, sir,” Beckham said. He rushed over to the chopper in a low hunch and climbed inside. Horn and Chow followed, flanking him on both sides in the doorway. The crowd watched from the edge of the tarmac as the pilots performed their final checks.
Wood was already back at Central Command, leaving his men to watch the island while Beckham and the rest of the teams went on the mission. Beckham could just imagine Wood toadying up to Kennor, both of them hiding out in the bunker at Offutt. Another image emerged in his mind, and he saw a younger Colonel Wood standing side by side with Colonel Gibson outside Lieutenant Brett’s cell. He didn’t know the details, but he felt in his gut that Wood had been involved in creating the monsters they now faced. They’d made hell on earth, but it was Beckham and his men who had to deal with it.
As the chopper ascended into the air, he kept his gaze on the crowd, knowing in his heart that once everyone he loved was safe, he would get his revenge for humanity.
-21-
General Kennor studied the picture of his grandkids. For the first four days after he’d arrived at Offutt Air Force Base, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to look at their innocent faces. Every time he did, he imagined them being torn to shreds by the Variants.
That’s why he’d put Colonel Wood in charge of all science operations. No one knew VX-99 better than him—at least, no one living. If anyone could defeat the Variants, it was Wood.
At first, when General Johnson had informed Kennor of Wood’s connection to Gibson, he had considered tossing Wood into a prison cell and throwing away the key. But Kennor was a practical man and saw the situation for what it was—an opportunity. Wood understood the details of VX-99, and his country needed that knowledge.
A rap on the door startled Kennor. He put the picture down and said, “It’s open.”
Wood himself opened the door and strode inside. “General,” he said, throwing up an impeccable salute.
“Colonel,” Kennor replied. He raised a return salute and then gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
Wood straightened his uniform and slid into the chair. “Plans are in motion, sir. We have over one hundred strike-teams from multiple bases participating in Operation Extinction.”
“Excellent news. How is the plan for stage two coming along?”
“Very good, sir. Once we collect the drugs, we’ll ship them to four locations including Plum Island. All of the antibody reactors are on stand by.”
Wood continued speaking, occasionally stroking the fingers of one hand down his pockmarked cheek, but Kennor was hardly listening. He was thinking of his daughter, his son in-law, and their kids. Men like Wood were the reason they were gone, yet Wood had put the pieces in place to avenge their tragic deaths.
It wasn’t ethical. It wasn’t moral. And it wasn’t right by any stretch of the imagination. Yet history proved that wars were started and ended by men who didn’t deserve to breathe free air. Wood was one of those men—and Kennor had become one too. He knew he was no better than Gibson or Wood, but in the end, morality meant nothing if there wasn’t anyone left to judge.
There was a less than gentle knock on the door. Kennor emerged from his thoughts to see Colonel Harris standing in the doorway. His lips were pressed into a thin line so tight they were almost as white as his hair.
“I thought I said no interruptions,” Kennor said.
“You did, General, but we have a problem.”
Kennor folded his arms across his chest. “What kind of problem?”
For the briefest moment, Harris paused. “The Variants, General. They’ve found us.”
Beckham grabbed a handhold and looked out over the open door. The bright morning sun glimmered off the skyscrapers of Baltimore. The reflection of their bird hopped from building to building. They
followed Echo 1 over the city with Echo 3 close behind, their troop holds all packed full of weary soldiers.
“Remind me why they don’t just send us to a hospital for the drugs?” Horn asked over the comm.
Beckham pointed to a crater a half-mile away. The burned out husk of a building protruded out of the center. “That’s why.”
“There aren’t many hospitals left,” Chow said. “And for the first time in this entire war, Central Command is thinking with their heads. The FEMA warehouse will have stockpiles of everything from tampons to cancer drugs.”
“I thought the warehouses were just a myth,” Horn said.
“Apparently not,” Beckham said. “Hopefully the fact they’re ‘secret’ means they haven’t been raided and hostiles are at a minimum.”
Lombardi worked his way to the door. “Wouldn’t count on that.”
“You know something we don’t?” Beckham asked. He twisted away from the view to look Lombardi in the eye.
The sergeant shook his head. “Besides what Lieutenant Colonel Jensen already said? Not really. I just know that Site R had a permanent staff of three hundred and fifty with room for another two thousand. I’m glad I didn’t get assigned to Alpha. Mikesell and his team are probably walking into a slaughterhouse.”
Beckham’s earpiece crackled as one of the pilots said, “ETA fifteen minutes.”
The chopper flew over woodland and pasture, leaving civilization behind. The view wasn’t much different than the one he remembered vividly from April, when Team Ghost had taken an Osprey from Fort Bragg to Edwards Air Force Base. The leaves had just begun to come in, and a herd of horses had been galloping through a field of lush green grass, just like the one below them now.
Spring was Beckham’s favorite time of year because it signaled new life. But despite the vibrant colors, there was no sign of life below. No horses, no deer or rabbits. Not live ones, anyway. The bloody carcasses of a herd of cows dotted one field. He turned from the gruesome sight. At first, he’d wondered how animals were surviving the apocalypse. Now he knew that they weren’t. The Variants had eaten most of them.
“Eyes on Raven Rock,” one of the pilots said. Beckham scanned the horizon and saw a cluster of red and white radio towers. A multi-layered fence surrounded the main building and several adjacent structures.
“Make a pass,” Beckham said into the comm.
They circled the area for several minutes, allowing Beckham to sync his mental map with the one he held in his hand. He could see the access roads that connected a series of concrete portals leading into the hills. There were four in total, marked A through D. According to the map, Beckham was looking for portals C and D. The inner road would take his team south, past a ventilation control room, a domestic reservoir, and even a bowling alley. From there the underground passages curved to the west and connected with portals A and B. In the middle, there were two power plants, a second industrial reservoir, and five buildings that included living quarters and the Presidential Command Center.
The complex was essentially an underground city. The thirty-ton blast doors were built to withstand a nuclear attack. Unfortunately, the engineers hadn’t planned on stopping a weapon like the Hemorrhage virus, or the monsters it created.
A red circle on the map marked the approximate location of the FEMA facility Beckham was looking for. It was next to the domestic reservoir. He flicked the map with a gloved finger and slipped it back into his vest as Echo 1 veered off toward their landing site. They set down next to a security building while Echo 2 and 3 continued on another pass.
Beckham scanned the access roads for a second time. There was a mixture of abandoned civilian and military vehicles clogging the pavement. Most of them were parked near the C portal. He flipped his mini-mike to his lips. “Bravo 1, Charlie 1. You copy? Over.”
“Valentine,” came the reply. Beckham wouldn’t waste his time reminding the man he was subordinate, but he’d be damned if he’d call the guy by name.
“Your team takes portal C, we’ll take D. We’ll meet at the domestic reservoir,” Beckham said. “And maintain radio discipline once we’re inside.”
“Roger that,” Valentine said.
Beckham stifled another urge to give Valentine a dressing down. Wood’s man would either help or hinder on this mission, but Beckham was betting on the latter. And if he got in the way of doing what was right, or worse… Beckham shook the thought aside and searched the area for a potential LZ, focusing on an empty stretch of road.
“Put us down in between that Humvee and the semi,” he said over the comm.
The clatter from the final pre-combat gear and weapons checks echoed through the troop hold. Beckham slammed a magazine into his M4 and then performed the most important final preparation by patting the pocket containing the picture of his mom.
“Hope she’s watching over us,” Horn said as he joined Beckham at the open door. “Hope she’s watching over my girls at Plum Island, too.”
“She is, Big Horn,” Beckham said. He watched the concrete rise toward them as the pilots descended over the road. The landing skids connected with a crunch a moment later, and Beckham shouted, “Go, go, go!”
Boots pounded the pavement as Beckham took point and raced toward a green fence. Through the chain links, he could see a massive tunnel cut into the hills. When he reached the gate, Echo 2 pulled overhead and vanished over the wooded bluff above the entrance.
Beckham turned to check on Valentine and his men at the other portal. The sergeant had already breeched the gate, and his team was running through.
The decision to split up wasn’t an easy one for Beckham. A major problem with Operation Extinction was intel, or lack thereof. That, and the fact the medical infrastructure had been all but destroyed during the firebombing of the cities during the initial outbreak. It was yet another reason he was questioning the mission. Coming to Raven Rock seemed more like a rescue op for any surviving political dignitaries or military brass. Beckham was all about saving more souls, but he hated feeling like cannon fodder. If that turned out to be the case, he’d have something to say to Wood—if he made it back at all.
“Looks secure,” Lombardi said. “No sign of forced entry.”
Chow pulled a string of bloody goo hanging between links and held it up under the sun. “No sign, huh?” he said with a raised brow. “Looks like someone or something opted for an alternative route.” He wiped the blood on his flak jacket and pointed at the barbwire lining the top of the fence. Several pieces had been torn away and hung loosely over the side. Dried blood stained the metal.
Beckham banished any remaining hope for a simple mission.
“Let’s go,” he said, motioning toward the gate. Lombardi pulled a bolt cutter from his rucksack and snapped through the locks.
“What about a vehicle?” Horn asked.
“Don’t want to tell anyone we’re coming,” Beckham said. “We proceed on foot until we clear the facility. Horn, you’re on point. The rest of you fall into line and keep combat intervals. If we find Variants, remember your field of fire. Nobody pull any cowboy shit.”
He flashed a hand signal, and Chow pulled the gate back. Horn burst through with his M249 leveled at the lip of the tunnel. As they ran, Beckham mentally identified the escape routes he’d noted earlier on the map.
Ahead, Horn melted into the shadows. Beckham followed close behind, checking the walls, ceiling, and ground for any sign of struggle. He’d half expected to discover a battlefield inside with empty bullet casings and corpses. Besides a few streaks of blood, there wasn’t anything but concrete and rock.
Horn stopped a hundred feet from a gate blocking their entrance into the inner roadways. Weak rays of sunlight leaking into the tunnel confirmed what Beckham already knew: the gate leading inside the mountain was already open.
“Radio discipline from here on out,” Beckham whispered. He pointed to his eyes, then to Horn, and then to the open gate.
Horn acknowledged with a nod, s
houldered his M249, and marched ahead, heel to toe, just like old times. And, just like old times, Beckham followed him into the darkness.
“You can’t, Kate,” Ellis was saying. “You’re too important.”
Kate held a syringe of Kryptonite under a bank of lights in the small lab room. She steadied her breathing as she stared at her new weapon. There was no sense of awe that she created something so powerful. In fact, she could hardly concentrate on her new creation at all.
She was focused on the fact her period was a week late.
Kate wanted to tell Ellis, but she couldn’t. Not yet—not until she knew for sure. At first she hadn’t given it much thought, attributing her irregular cycle to the stress. But the more she thought about injecting herself with the Kryptonite, the more she wondered if it was the right move. If she was pregnant, it might cause serious complications.
After several moments of silence, she lowered the syringe and faced Ellis. He was running a hand through his slicked back hair.
“Beckham is out there with the other soldiers, collecting chemotherapeutics that we hope will end this nightmare. We need to ensure it doesn’t have any major side effects on the surviving population,” Kate said.
Ellis held out his hand and let out an exasperated sigh. “Let me, then. You have Beckham, and Horn’s girls have really taken a liking to you. I don’t have anyone. If something goes wrong—”
“Don’t say that,” Kate said. “You have me.”
He twisted his lips to the side and used two fingers to gesture for the syringe. “I’m still a better option. Besides, if we’re correct, nothing’s going to happen. Right?”
Kate nodded without hesitation. She was confident the drugs would have minimal side effects on humans, but they still had to be sure before they deployed it on a massive level.
“Let me help at least,” Kate said. She sat Ellis down in a chair and grabbed his left arm to search for a suitable vein in the crook of his elbow.
Ellis closed his eyes and said, “Make it fast.”
“What kind of doctor hates needles?”
Extinction Age Page 22
