Emergence (Book 3): Incursion

by JT Sawyer

  He began weaving the rope around Blake’s inner legs then back out around the rear until he formed an improvised harness known as a Swiss Seat, which would be safer than using the improvised rappel just employed by Nash. When he was done, he called over Porter, who was standing watch by the emergency exit. Both men slung their rifles and grabbed the rope as Reisner motioned for Blake to step up on the concrete lip of the roof.

  “This is the part where you just relax and we’ll get you down below.” Reisner pulled his gloves tighter on his hands and braced his feet against the retaining wall as he leaned back, while Porter did the same. “On the count of three, you tilt back like you’re gonna sit down and then let us do the rest.”

  Reisner heard an explosion behind him and felt the air rumble out from the stairwell exit as the grenade boobytrap in the hall was sprung. The sudden movement caused him and Porter to jerk forward, letting the rope slip. Blake tumbled back, bellowing, his arms flailing wildly as he plummeted down.

  Both operators clutched the rope, the fabric of their leather gloves getting torn open as they stopped the descent while gritting their teeth and leaning back to anchor their boots against the retaining wall.

  “Shit—you OK, buddy?” said Reisner. Silence ensued, and he wondered if the man had smacked his head against the brick wall. A second later he heard Nash’s voice coming through his earpiece.

  “He’s dangling ten feet beneath the roof. I think he passed out. Or he had a heart attack. Just lower him down.”

  Reisner glanced over his shoulder at Porter. “I hope we didn’t lose our tour guide.”

  Porter was grinding his molars as he struggled to lower the dead weight on the other end of the rope. “Yeah, and I hope that boobytrap of yours took out the alpha. At least it will slow them down.”

  “Sixty more feet to go,” they heard Nash say into their earpieces.

  Reisner heard the frenetic pounding of fists on the steel exit door behind them as he fought to maintain his grip on the rope, his biceps burning from the constant tension. A few seconds later, he felt the pressure release and knew Blake must have made it to the ground.

  “You’re on deck,” he yelled at Porter, who grabbed the rope and started setting up the Dulfersitz method. When he was done, he dropped below the roof and descended rapidly towards the others.

  Reisner didn’t waste time getting tied in once the rope went limp. He saw the steel door of the emergency exit across the roof beginning to buckle as he slung his AR and disappeared over the lip of the roof into the embrace of the dark.

  Chapter 2

  U.S. Customs Airfield, Calexico, California

  When the Blackhawk arrived at the remote U.S. Border Patrol airstrip south of Calexico, Ivins and the others were greeted by a dozen agents and their families along with a handful of civilians from both sides of the border. Ivins had already briefed the border patrol commander about the critical personnel that were on board and how imperative it was to get Doctor Munroe and the 1918 virus samples to the CDC in Phoenix. Selene and the others were waiting for an explanation from Ivins for them diverting to Calexico, and Ivins could see he was going to have his hands full keeping up the already strained morale of the group after he relayed the horrific events that had unfolded since they left L.A.

  “Can you please tell us why we are here and not on the GoodWill? And when will a helicopter be sent back for Will and the others?” snapped Selene as she stood on the blacktop, talking to Ivins.

  Ivins folded his arms and let out a long exhale. “Shortly before we departed the NSA building in Los Angeles, a Chinese submarine that had been shadowing the USS Reagan and 7th Fleet launched an attack on our forces west of Pearl Harbor. One of our destroyers was sunk and the Reagan suffered heavy casualties and structural damage to the command center.” He looked around at the small group, whose expressions had grown sullen as silence fell upon the airfield. “Regrettably, before the submarine was eliminated, they managed to launch a long-range tactical missile…” He paused, the words seeming to stick in his throat. “The GoodWill took a direct hit and suffered catastrophic loss of life—the entire ship and its crew are…are…gone.”

  Selene felt all the blood drain from her face, and she thought she was going to pass out. She rested her hand on a stack of empty pallets, steadying herself as she gulped in some air. Selene struggled to focus on Ivins’ words as the images of so many lives lost at sea rebounded through her shell-shocked brain. How can we still be trying to kill each other when the virus has already claimed so many of our kind?

  “We were nearly out of fuel when we arrived here—there is no other place to go and no additional air support in this region to retrieve Reisner and his team,” said Ivins, who stood before the group, painting a picture of their options. “Our best bet is to continue on to the CDC in Phoenix and then figure out a plan from there. I need to contact Central Command at MacDill Air Force Base in Florida and find out what General Dorr’s orders are. That’s who I’m taking orders from now since Admiral McKenzie is tied up with salvage efforts with the Reagan.”

  “I thought Secretary of State Karen Hemmings would be taking over command?” said Connelly, who was sitting on the edge of the cabin of the Blackhawk with a cold compress on her forehead. Her face was taut and her eyes kept darting around the airfield as if she was contemplating taking a helicopter and returning to L.A. for her friends.

  “Dorr indicated that Hemmings will get up to speed shortly, after she is sworn in as the president. Until then, he’s calling the shots.” He waved his hand towards the cyber-expert next to Selene. “The good news is that General Dorr indicated that the computer virus that Mr. Pacelle initiated against the headquarters in Nanjing has neutralized their tactical operations center and eliminated any threats in the immediate future from that region, according to chatter within China.”

  “And General Dorr knows Will and the others are still trapped in L.A.?” said Selene.

  Ivins put his hands on his hips. “He does, and he also knows there aren’t any air assets to spare. For now, Reisner is on his own. That NSA building should provide adequate protection until we can get back out there.” He took a step closer to Selene, his eyes narrowing. “And we will get back there—I’m not leaving any of them behind. In the meantime, our primary objective is to get you and the 1918 virus sample you retrieved from the Presidio cemetery back to the CDC.”

  Selene let out a long exhale, blowing a strand of blond hair off her nose. Given the harrowing change of events Ivins had just described, she knew he was right, but she still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that Reisner and the others were adrift in a city filled with millions of paras. It was only a few hours ago that she had seen him and he had pulled her close for a kiss amidst the turmoil of their departure. Now, he seemed a continent away, in a hostile land without any support on the way. She felt her ribs constrict as her breathing decreased. God, he doesn’t even know. He thinks we’ll be sending another helicopter back soon.

  “For now, everyone tank up on some water and grub. We will proceed to Phoenix in a few hours,” said Ivins.

  He motioned for two of his SEALs to lift the stretcher Amber was on and move her to the nearby hangar. She and her son Chris had miraculously survived on their own near the Presidio and were now starting to resemble the living again as the color in their faces returned and an occasional smile crept out.

  Selene walked towards the edge of the narrow runway, staring out into the open desert as a cool breeze stroked her face. She was still in shock from the drastic news about the attack on the GoodWill and the fleet west of Hawaii. She lowered her head, fighting back the tears. How is our race ever going to survive this pandemic if we are so intent on destroying each other? Are the paras really the problem? Maybe we are the disease. She had felt such an intense burst of emotions when Reisner kissed her—an unexpected joy in a world that had seemed so dark. Now there was only a trace of that feeling remaining, cloaked by a shroud of sorrow over the lives
lost in the recent attack in the Pacific, along with the uncertain fate of Reisner. She felt nauseous, and leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees. Selene wanted to leap over the barbed wire fence in the distance and run off into the desert until she was no longer in sight of civilization or any reminders of the human world.

  She barely noticed the footfalls behind her until the person was standing beside her. Selene heard a familiar voice, but one that had softened from its usual harsh tone.

  “You OK, Doc? You look like you’re gonna pass out,” said Connelly. The dark-skinned woman had a large contusion near her right temple that was partially obscured by her black hair. For the first time, Selene saw the face of the woman instead of the hardened, aloof warrior.

  “Yeah, just a little queasy from the flight here.”

  Connelly was nervously grinding the tip of her boot into the soft sand while biting her lower lip. “I just wanted to say thank you for taking care of me back there,” said Connelly.

  “Don’t mention it. Besides, Reisner made me promise I’d look after you.”

  “He did?” She nodded slightly, turning her head away.

  Selene noticed the girlish grin on Connelly’s face. She realized that the woman was knocked out cold and was unaware that Selene had been kissed by Reisner. She could also see that her demeanor had been slightly lifted with the thought of her boss showing such concern for her.

  “You’ve been on his team for a while—what do you think he’ll do when he realizes we’re not coming for him?” Selene settled down into a squat.

  “Even if he thought we were returning, he’d have made up two or three backup plans already. Reisner is always a few steps ahead of everyone else.”

  “Is that what you call him all the time—by his last name? I noticed that with Nash and Porter too—doesn’t anyone use first names?”

  “We’re more informal than the military, but not that informal. Besides, in the field, we all have call-signs.”

  Selene raised an eyebrow. “And what’s yours—Lioness or Wolf-killer?”

  Connelly chuckled, then extended her rough hand out to the doctor, offering her a hand up. “Nothing like that, I’m afraid.” Selene accepted the gesture and stood up, then the two women turned and began walking back to the hangar.

  “It’s Big Red,” said Connelly.

  “What—what do you mean—that’s your undercover name?” quipped Selene with a wry smile. “No offense, but that doesn’t exactly strike terror into my heart.”

  “Our call signs are given to us by our team—based upon personal habits or something unusual. Mine came about because I was always chewing on Big Red gum whenever I could get it. Porter actually suggested the name, making fun of my addiction.”

  Selene laughed, raising a hand to cover her mouth. She saw Connelly smiling and realized that they had spoken more in the past ten minutes than during all their time together on the Reagan or along the California coast. The tension between them seemed to have dissolved, at least temporarily, linked by a common thread that could trace its origins back to Will Reisner.

  As they neared the hangar, they passed by a young airman who was fueling the Blackhawk. He was tapping on his earpiece, his eyes nearly filling his entire face. A second later, he removed the gas nozzle and hastily returned it to the pump.

  “What’s wrong?” said Connelly.

  “There are a few hundred creatures moving along the north gate. They must have seen your bird come in.”

  “Stay here,” said Connelly. “This location is furthest away from the perimeter.” She trotted over to the Blackhawk and retrieved her AR, leaving Selene, who moved into the shadows near the hangar entrance. Selene knelt down by Amber and Chris, whose fearful expressions matched how she felt. This isn’t much of a fortress to hide out in. If there are as many creatures as there were in L.A., this is going to be a short battle. Suddenly the steel walls of the hangar felt like they were constructed of paper mache as the three huddled next to each other.

  Gunfire erupted in the direction Connelly had just run, and Selene saw a half-dozen border patrol officers sprint past their location, shouting about a breach in the fence. The staccato of automatic weapons fire increased, drowning out her own breathing. She looked at Chris, who was burrowed into his mother’s side. These two have been through enough—no child should have to grow up like this. She felt disgusted that the very science she had used to save lives around the world as an epidemiologist had also been used to create the virus that led to this present reality.

  She glanced down at Chris’ face, putting her hand on his shoulder. He tilted his head back at her, then suddenly his eyes became as wide as saucers. Selene spun her body to the left and saw a maniacal drone racing at them. God, how did it get inside?

  She stood up, her hands frantically reaching behind her on the mechanic’s bench for some kind of weapon. It was too late—the lithe creature sprang the last twenty feet in the air like a puma leaping for its prey.

  “Run,” she yelled at Chris and Amber as she stood up and started to run, but the drone managed to slam into her shoulder, driving her back into the wall. She landed on her side, coughing as her chest compressed from the violent impact. Selene scurried back, her hands groping in the darkness for anything that could be used as a weapon. The creature grabbed her ankle, yanking her entire body back towards it. She was shocked at the sheer strength. Selene had only studied the creatures from a safe distance or from the other side of observation glass; now she was on the receiving end of the animalistic rage of a creature that only saw her as a sack of tender meat. The smell of decay emanating from its mouth and the raw predatorial fury in its eyes was terrifying beyond anything she ever imagined as she was dragged towards it snapping jaws. She could see several worms flitting about the opening of the mouth. Selene tried to scream but nothing came out. She felt her right hand snag against something on the ground. She clutched for it, feeling the cold surface of a metal pipe. Selene seized the heavy rod, then made a wild swing for the drone’s head. It connected above the ear with a sickening thud. The creature shrieked and let go of her pant legs. Selene swung again, striking it on the neck, sending it tumbling over on its side. She rolled to her left then shot up to her feet, raising the bludgeoning tool above her head with two hands and driving it down upon the back of the skull. She heard the cracking of bone while a fine mist of gray ooze and worms sprayed out from the fissure. The creature collapsed, its arms going limp.

  Selene’s heart was racing so fast she thought it was going to punch out of her chest. She backed up, checking herself for any cuts or parasites on her clothing. She felt bile surging up in her stomach, and staggered over towards some fuel barrels. Leaning over, she began vomiting as her legs trembled uncontrollably. She heard movement to her right and spun around, holding the soiled pipe in her right hand. Amber and Chris had come out from the shadows and were skulking towards her.

  “Are you OK?” Amber said.

  She robotically shook her head, her fingers feeling like they were welded to the pipe. She noticed the gunfire in the distance had ceased, and hoped that meant the battle was over and not that their defenses had been overrun. Selene saw Connelly and Ivins emerge through the rear exit, the barrels of their rifles still smoking.

  Selene could barely move, and her throat felt like it was lined with cotton. The two operators walked up and stopped at the feet of the dead creature, staring at the shattered skull then up at her. Connelly moved beside Selene and held her trembling arm, prying the pipe free. “It’s OK. It’s over.”

  As she leaned back on the edge of a table, forcing herself to breathe, she knew it was far from over. There were a thousand battles like this unfolding around the world, and even more to come to stem the tide that was threatening to erase the human species. She looked at the dead creature. There has to be another way. I have to find some answers. She felt her sides shudder, then she clenched her jaw and took a deep breath, looking outside the hangar at the plum-orange fing
ers of dawn stabbing through the clouds on the eastern horizon and wishing the day was already over.

  Chapter 3

  MacDill Air Force Base, Tampa, Florida

  Jonas Runa dragged a wet wash cloth across his face, hoping he could wipe away more than the grime from living on the run for days with his small group of survivors. The tension across his forehead eased as the African-American man stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, forcing himself to recall that they were safely behind the walls of the base and surrounded by the largest concentration of special operations personnel left in the country. His thoughts shifted back to Reisner, and he wondered where his young protégé was at since they last spoke. At least Runa had gotten Will’s sister, Jody, out of harm’s way, and he looked forward to the day when they could all be reunited.

  For now, he needed to meet with the Cent-Com commander, General Dorr and get up to speed on what was happening with the rest of the country. Now that Secretary of State Karen Hemmings was at MacDill, she would be stepping into the role of commander-in-chief at a time when the nation—the world—needed an inspirational leader. From what he had already seen in the field after rescuing Hemmings and her staff, she was the right person for that job.

  Runa leaned back and grabbed a fresh t-shirt, then donned a camouflage jacket. He pulled his shoulders back, then placed an army ballcap over his bristly head. Time for sleep when you’re in the ground, Jonas. Back to work.

  He exited his tiny room and strode down the hallway of C-Wing in the NCO quarters on the east end of the base. Runa walked out into the morning sun, feeling the smothering humidity shoving against his body as he walked along the sidewalk to the family housing where Jody, Megan, and Valerie were staying.

  The sprawling base was home to eleven thousand personnel connected to United States Special Operations Command, Marine Forces Central Command, and Air Force Reserve Command. The peninsular location and their sheer firepower coupled with the existing perimeter defenses made the base ideally situated to cope with the initial attacks that occurred during the early days of the pandemic.