The Tide_Ghost Fleet

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  “Jesus,” Miguel said. “How we going to get through all that?”

  “Not to mention the Hybrids and whatever else is inside that building,” Spencer said.

  “O’Neil?” Dom asked.

  “I can try,” he said. “But that’s a shitload of Skulls.”

  “Do what you can,” Dom said. “We need to get in there. Whatever the FGL wants here, they can’t have it.”

  O’Neil closed his eyes. The muscles in his jaw bulged as his teeth clenched together. The Skulls in the field gorged on the dead and dying soldiers.

  “We got any idea what this place is?” Meredith asked.

  Chao answered. “If what I have here is correct, you’re at the Centre d’études scientifiques et techniques d’Aquitaine, or Cesta for short. Some kind of weapons research facility. Samantha and I are digging into it to see what else we can learn.”

  The Skulls thronged at the entrance. It would be damn near suicide to push through them. She glanced at O’Neil. He was deep in concentration. The Skulls were still crawling over the facility in a chaotic jumble of skeletal bodies. Meredith squinted. Maybe, just maybe, they were moving slower now.

  Soon O’Neil started to quiver. Blood dripped out of his nostrils.

  “O’Neil!” Dom said.

  The Hybrid didn’t respond. His eyelids opened, and his eyes rolled back into his head. His claws clenched, scraping against the bony plates on his wrist. Vessels bulged against his exposed skin.

  Meredith crept toward him as his muscles shook. Now blood was dripping from the corners of his mouth. His eyes pulsated.

  “O’Neil!” Dom said again.

  But still the man did not respond. This wasn’t right. He looked like he was in pain. Meredith grabbed his wrist. All at once, his eyes focused on her. A crimson sheen of blood rolled across them. His lips drew back into a snarl. His fangs dripped with saliva like a rabid animal. He pulled back his hand from Meredith and shot out with the other. She barely dodged the slicing claw. Then O’Neil drew back again.

  “Mere!” Dom sprinted toward her, but he was too far away.

  But instead of stepping back again, she ducked under O’Neil’s blow. She lowered her shoulder and slammed into his chest, knocking him backward. O’Neil’s head cracked against a tree, and he collapsed. The scarlet in his eyes faded. Meredith held his neck with one hand and secured one of his wrists with his other.

  She felt his muscles relax. His eyes locked with hers. The rage of animalistic fury no longer radiated from them, replaced by something else. Shame.

  “I... I...” he stammered.

  The other Hunters circled them. Meredith saw their stances out of the corner of her eye. They weren’t aiming their guns at him. But they hadn’t lowered them, either. Meredith let go. O’Neil brushed himself off then stood. With the back of his hand, he wiped the blood from his nostrils.

  “They’re so strong. So goddamn strong.” He stared at the blood on his bone-plated hand, then he looked up. His eyes caught Meredith’s. “The Hybrids here are controlling the Skulls.”

  “But the Skulls are going wild,” Meredith said. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s controlling them.”

  O’Neil exhaled. “That’s exactly the way they want it to look.”

  -17-

  Dom’s aim wandered over the Skulls running rampant through the base. He could scarcely believe they were under the Hybrids’ control. But of course they were. The Skulls were as ravenous and ferocious as ever. The only difference from usual was that they were being specifically directed at the French resistance—and anyone else who might stand in the FGL’s way.

  “There’s no way we’re getting through there,” Dom said. “We’re going around back. Stay alert and stay alive.”

  The Hunters filtered back through the forest. Stray Skulls got in their way, but their screams and shrieks were muted by the downpour and the crack of thunder. Bullets shut them up permanently.

  “There.” Dom pointed to a section of fence where only a half dozen Skulls were milling about. “Miguel, Jenna, cut us a way through. Glenn, Spencer, watch their backs. Everyone else, on me. Form a perimeter to keep an escape route clear. Go!”

  Miguel and Jenna sprinted to the fence. They withdrew bolt cutters from their packs and began snipping at the first layer of fences. With the snap of the wire, the nearest Skulls lunged in their direction. Glenn and Spencer dispatched them one at a time.

  Another monster careened out of the darkness. Dom aimed, catching the center of the creature’s mass in his sights. Three shots sent the Skull sprawling. It tumbled over itself, sliding in the rain.

  “Clear, Chief!” Miguel called. “Let’s go join the party!”

  The Hunters rushed through the freshly cut hole in the fence. It had no doubt once been electrified, but the FGL must’ve already sabotaged what was left of Cesta’s defenses.

  “Andris, your turn,” Dom said.

  “It would be my pleasure,” Andris said, his accent thick through the comm link. The former French Foreign Legionnaire rushed to a set of thick steel doors. He placed a thermite charge around the locking mechanism and along the hinges of the door. “Fire in the hole!”

  White sparks exploded from the door, tearing through the metal and melting it into glowing red slag. Raindrops hissed as they hit the heated metal. With a tug from Andris, one of the doors gave way.

  “Miguel, Jenna, take point,” Dom said. “Spencer, Glenn, rearguard. Doors and corners, team, doors and corners!”

  The group fell in line, surging into the dark building. The chilly air sent its cold deep through Dom’s wet flesh and into his muscles and bones. The space was lit up in a collage of greens and blacks thanks to his NVGs. The team heeded his advice, slowly working their way past the multitude of doors and blind intersections within the facility. The sound of pounding rain faded the deeper they went, replaced by the boom of automatic gunfire. Each blast set Dom’s nerves on fire. They were drawing closer to the FGL.

  Dom crept beside O’Neil. “Can you sense them?”

  O’Neil nodded. “They’re down there. Still trying to control the Skulls.”

  “You going to be okay?” he asked, afraid of the answer. They couldn’t afford another episode like the one outside.

  “I will,” O’Neil said, “but I can’t try controlling the Skulls again. That makes me vulnerable, opens me up to their influence. There are too many in here for me to fight off.”

  “Understood,” Dom said. “I won’t ask you again until we know those Hybrids are gone.”

  As O’Neil turned away, Dom caught a flash of an expression on his face. Not quite weakness, but regret. When the former SEAL felt he had failed his team, he took it hard, but the moment passed quickly, and his face once more returned to a stern skeletal mask.

  “We got contacts!” Miguel hissed over the comms.

  The others pressed into alcoves and shadows. The sound of talons tapping against the floor came first, followed by shapes sprinting down the corridor. It was impossible to tell if they were Hybrids or Skulls. Either way, they would be on the team in seconds, and if they retreated, they would lose any element of surprise.

  “Hold your fire,” Dom whispered into the comms. “Wait until my mark.”

  The bony shapes of the attackers came into full view now. They were definitely Skulls. They ran like a pack of wolves that had spotted prey. But why were they heading in this direction? All the gunfire deeper within the facility should’ve attracted them, not sent them fleeing.

  The monsters clattered toward them, now close enough Dom imagined he could smell their rancid breath. He counted at least a dozen. When he was certain there was no way they could miss, he levied his command. “Fire.”

  Armor-piercing rounds punched through the Skulls’ bone plates. Mists of blood and flesh burst from their wounds. The beasts crashed into each other. Before they even hit the ground, Dom set the team moving again.

  “That was no accident,” Meredith said. “They’ve
got to know we’re here.”

  Miguel gave Spencer a suspicious look. “I told you to shower, bro.”

  The joke earned a round of nervous laughter from the others, but it fell flat against O’Neil’s self-recrimination.

  “I screwed this up,” O’Neil said. “When I tried to settle those Skulls outside, the Hybrids must’ve realized I was here. There’s no way they missed that chemical garbage I was spewing.”

  More Skulls shrieked throughout the halls. The sound of tapping talons sounded everywhere, giving Dom the eerie sensation they were being surrounded.

  “They know someone is here,” Dom said. “We’re going to need to make this quick. Miguel, lead on.”

  The gunfire became more sporadic. Occasionally they were forced to duck into the shadows or hide when another group of Skulls hurtled through the corridors.

  O’Neil shivered beside Dom.

  “Talk to me,” Dom said. “What do you sense?”

  “We’re getting closer,” he replied through gritted teeth.

  Soon they crossed a corridor strewn with the corpses of Skulls and humans alike. Bullet casings lay in puddles of blood. Bits of flesh and bone were splashed against the walls. By the looks of the humans’ uniforms, they were the French soldiers, scientists, and workers assigned to this facility.

  “Looks like we found where the FGL went,” Jenna said.

  They prowled through the macabre scene. A tingling at the back of his neck tugged at Dom. What in God’s name were they walking into?

  “Chao,” Dom whispered over the comms. “I think we’re getting close. Got better intel on Cesta now?”

  “We’re digging through some stuff, and well, it’s worse than we thought.”

  “Weapons research, right?”

  “Right,” Chao said. “Thing is, the weapons they worked on there were a bit out of our league. Captain, we’re talking about nuclear weapons.”

  Dom stopped, his blood freezing in his veins. “Nukes, Chao? We’ve got nukes here?”

  “That’s correct.”

  The odor of death had grown stronger the deeper they’d traveled into this facility, and the scent of cordite and blood hung heavy in the air. But all that faded at Chao’s words.

  “You’ve alerted Kinsey?” Dom asked.

  “I will now.”

  “Christ,” Meredith said. “You think this might be what they’re sending to DC? Not just Skull armies, but a goddamn nuke?”

  “Are we sure that’s what they’re after?” Spencer asked. “I mean, shouldn’t Spitkovsky already have access to them?”

  Glenn peered around a corner. “Iran’s nuclear capabilities were castrated diplomatically long before the outbreak. And Spitkovsky was thrown in prison by the Russian government. He wouldn’t have access to their nuclear arms prior to the outbreak, and my guess would be that he still doesn’t have easy access to them now.”

  “If they’re trying to get nuclear materials out of here, we can’t let them,” Dom said. “O’Neil, we getting close?”

  “Definitely,” O’Neil said, nostrils flaring.

  They rounded down another hall that opened into a much larger chamber. More bodies lay everywhere. They looked like they were still warm. At one end was a massive door, forced open, revealing what once must’ve been a highly secured weapons-grade research laboratory beyond. All manner of warning signs were plastered at the entrance to the laboratory with the all-too-familiar radiation hazard sign standing out among the rest. Black singe marks from explosives marred the wall and the edges of the door.

  Voices echoed out in harsh Russian. They were still there. Dom might still have a chance to stop them.

  He waved Jenna and Miguel to the door. The others positioned themselves on the perimeter, sticking to the shadows. Red light bled from the entrance, not unlike the battle lights of the Huntress’s cargo hold, making their NVGs no longer necessary.

  “We’ve got to be damn careful in there,” Dom said. “Do not fire unless you know you’ve got a shot. I do not want to hit something that makes the whole place go boom.”

  A flurry of affirmatives whispered back over the comms. Dom crept to the edge of the massive opening. Inside was a chamber that looked like it was coated in stainless steel. Huge, drumlike structures sprouted from the paneled floor, and a latticework of pipes hung overhead. In the center of the room was a donut-shaped catwalk surrounding some kind of isolated chamber. A few figures circled it, peering into an opening at the top. Others crept along the walls, yanking open storage containers and tool chests.

  “I got nine contacts, Chief,” Miguel said. “Hard to believe this little group caused that big ol’ mess out there.”

  “Seems odd,” Dom agreed. There had to be more around here somewhere. “Miguel, Jenna, Spencer, take the left side. Meredith, Andris, Glenn, right. O’Neil and I will go center. Let’s do this quietly and quickly. Take all these bastards out. They aren’t leaving with anything today. Go!”

  They dispersed through the room like ghosts, homing in on the shadows and blind spots. Dom lunged up a steel staircase toward the catwalk where three men—rather, two Hybrids and one man—were patrolling. O’Neil followed, lunging up the steps with surprising litheness for a body covered in bony armor. When they reached the top, Dom went low. He prowled toward the Hybrid nearest him. O’Neil targeted the next.

  This was too goddamned easy.

  Dom shot a hand signal to O’Neil. The Hybrid nodded back. They were ready to pounce. Dom strapped his rifle over his back and exchanged it for his suppressed pistol. For what he was about to do, the rifle would be overkill. The last thing he wanted was armor-piercing rounds flying around this laboratory.

  His fingers stretched against the barrel of the pistol in a subtle gesture. O’Neil’s eyes flashed at the three fingers. Dom counted down.

  Three.

  The Hybrid before him shifted. The spikes along his back bristled.

  Two.

  The sole normal human tapped on one of the monitors, causing both Hybrids to look at the screen.

  One.

  Dom shot upward, and he wrapped one arm around the first Hybrid’s neck. O’Neil’s target stared at Dom. The Hybrid’s eyes went wide just before O’Neil grabbed his neck.

  Pressing the barrel of his pistol to the side of the Hybrid’s head, Dom squeezed the trigger. Blood sprayed from the wound, and Dom squeezed again. The Hybrid fell slack in Dom’s arm. The human FGL soldier whipped up his submachine gun. His eyes were wild with shock.

  Dom was quicker. He plugged the man in the chest, and the soldier collapsed, dropping his rifle. At the same time, O’Neil plunged his claws into the flesh of his Hybrid’s chin. Blood surged from the wound, splashing over them both. He dug deeper until his victim’s eyes rolled back.

  All across the room, the same splash of blood and whoosh of suppressed gunfire sounded. Soon all Dom heard was the hushed breathing of the Hunters over his comm link.

  “Contacts?” he asked.

  “Dispatched,” Meredith reported.

  “Clear, Chief,” Miguel said.

  “Good. We’re clear up here, too,” Dom said. “Glenn, Spencer, secure the door. The rest of you, see what damage these bastards have already done.” Dom brushed his fingers over the console the FGL soldier had been examining. “Huntress, Dom here. Weapons research room appears to be clear.”

  “This isn’t right.” O’Neil hadn’t lowered his rifle. His eyes searched the room.

  Dom wanted to asked him what he meant. But his mouth went dry. He saw now what the Hybrids and the other soldier had been studying. The isolation canister in the center hole of the donut-shaped chamber was wide open. He didn’t have to read French now to see what that enormous canister had once held. Among the French words etched into the metal, he saw the abbreviation U-235. Dom remembered his periodic table well enough to know what that meant.

  Uranium. Highly enriched uranium.

  “Son of a bitch,” Dom said. “They already got it. What do w
e need to look for, Chao?”

  “From what I can gather, the warheads there would’ve been similar to the French TN81 warheads. They weigh just a few hundred kilograms, so it wouldn’t be a problem for a bunch of Hybrids to cart them out.”

  Dom felt like a knife was twisting into his stomach. The TN81 had a yield of anywhere from one hundred to three hundred kilotons, nearly twenty times the power of the bomb dropped over Hiroshima. If the FGL was planning to load the warheads onto some missiles of their own, he dreaded what would happen.

  “They haven’t left yet,” O’Neil said. “The Hybrids in here may be dead, but—”

  One of the radios buzzed. A Russian voice said something. There was a brief pause before the voice called again. And without an answer, the voice chimed in more frantically. All the radios on the dead FGL human and Hybrids in the room started going off. The Hunters looked to each other.

  “We’ve been found out,” Glenn said, translating for them. “They’re spooked. They’ve got what they want, and now they’re going to bail before any reinforcements arrive.”

  The thought of reinforcements was ludicrous. Their closest allies were in the Azores. There would be no one here to back up Dom and his crew.

  A crash of shrieking voices exploded through the entrance. Skulls. O’Neil began shaking. The Hybrids must have been spewing their pheromone cocktail into the air, inciting their Skull brethren to fight. The rattle of bones and click of talons reverberated through the weapons lab. It sounded like damn near a hundred Skulls were charging into battle.

  He had no doubt where that horde of Skulls was headed.

  -18-

  Lauren marveled at the research papers and protocols strewn before her on the lab table. They described the intricate processes to take the small molecule—the Phoenix Compound—her team had developed and expand those methods for wide-scale manufacturing.

  “If all goes well, it might be a few weeks before we can scale up production to start distribution in Germany,” Emma Fischer, one of the lead production scientists, said. The woman snapped off her blue nitrile gloves. “It will just take a few months to produce enough Phoenix Compound to treat all of Germany’s citizens. Then we can expand to other countries throughout the EU.”