The Tide: Breakwater (Tide Series Book 2)

by Melchiorri, Anthony J

  Miguel pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. It was dry, a visceral reaction to the shaking of the vehicle. He’d always tried to put on a brave face, but he couldn’t help the instinctual reactions to a vehicle that seemed ready to explode.

  He’d rather face a roomful of Skulls than ride in another Humvee over Al Qaeda territory, waiting for another IED to go off under his feet.

  The memories before the explosion that day in the godforsaken dry heat of Afghanistan were hazy at best. Routine escort mission. Convoy over a dirt road followed by overwhelming heat. A blinding flash of tearing metal and licking tongues of flame. Air sucked out of his lungs. The left side of his body hurt for a moment then went numb. He’d later learned that third-degree burns had charred his nerves.

  The next thing he remembered, he was waking up at a military hospital in Germany. He’d passed in and out of consciousness for a while, doped up on pain meds.

  He remembered the intense itching on his ribs. He had moved his arm to scratch it, but his arm had felt lighter than usual. A strange, ghostly sensation. His arm had definitely hurt. Healing burns, he’d thought. He had tried to crane his neck to see what was going on. The small movement had strained his tight muscles and caused more pain than he expected. Then he had seen why he couldn’t get his fingers at the bandages to relieve the itching.

  He had no goddamn fingers to scratch with. Nothing past his elbow. His stomach had twisted, and he’d almost vomited all over the crisp white sheets and bandages. But he’d fought the rising panic and controlled his breathing.

  A nurse had wandered by to check on him with a chart in her hands. “Awake again. How’s the pain?”

  Miguel had struggled to speak, swallowing hard to clear his mouth. His breath had felt hot and tasted sour. “Not...bad,” he had rasped.

  “Good. Just hit this little guy if things get worse.” She had held up a white plastic button with a cord attached to his IV. He had almost reached for it with his left hand. His left stump, now. She had given him a pitying look, as if she had sensed his mistake.

  He couldn’t stand the pity. Couldn’t stand the oh, poor soldier look she’d given him. She’d probably seen worse. Guys with all four limbs missing. Guys with their guts spilling out, their brains oozing out their skull. And what did he have? Burns up his side, mostly just on his ribs, and a stump arm.

  He was alive, damn it. He was fucking alive.

  “Need anything else?” the nurse had asked.

  “Actually, I do have a request.” He’d tried to adopt a serious expression, but wasn’t sure, in the haze of the pain meds, what the hell he had looked like. “I seem to be missing an arm, so if you see it around, will you let me know?”

  The nurse’s sorrowful blue eyes had lit up slightly. The corners of her lips had trembled ever so much. A tiny smirk. Miguel had grinned back, and the nurse looked at him with a hint of relief. Maybe a bit of joy that this grunt hadn’t come back angry, hadn’t lashed out at her for the injuries he’d sustained from some goddamn Al Qaeda bastard.

  She had turned and walked away, but not before flashing him another small smile. “Let me know if you need anything, soldier. But between you and me, I think you’re going to do just fine.”

  Long after he’d left the hospital, he never figured out what she’d meant by those last words. Had she meant he would recover physically? Or had she meant he was going to be one of the few guys who weren’t tormented by PTSD? Either way, he wasn’t sure she had turned out to be right.

  The chopper jostled again, and Miguel cringed. The ghost pains in his prosthetic arm lit up, sending an electric wave through the ends of his stunted nerves. “Shit, Frank. You learn how to fly yesterday?”

  “Nah, buddy. But they did take my pilot’s license away last week for landing on an old lady’s car.” The pilot shot Miguel a half-smirk before returning his eyes back to the land drawing nearer.

  Miguel turned away from the bay and surveyed the almost empty chopper. Just him, Frank, and Andris. Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie teams were all drawn from a smaller pool this mission, too. It was a stinging reminder of the brothers he’d lost in the fight against the Oni Agent. The meager amount of humor he’d mustered to hide his physical and mental scars fled. Guilt replaced the void in his mind, as it had in the hospital.

  Back at the hospital, as soon as he had quipped about his missing arm, he’d realized that he had no idea what had happened to the others in his squad. It turned out Philips, Vasquez, and Abbas wouldn’t have to worry about missing limbs or scars. None of them had made it home.

  But he had to live with the fact that somehow fortune had favored him.

  The AW109 passed over the Zodiacs, skimming the water’s surface. If he squinted, he could make out the tiny forms on the crafts. Aboard them was all that was left of the Hunters. They’d lost Henry and Brett. Glenn and Renee had at least recovered from their confrontations with the Oni Agent, but Miguel doubted Ivan and Scott ever would. Once again he was left wondering why fate had chosen him to live and taken others.

  “There it is, boys,” Frank said. The Naval Academy appeared among a scattering of trees near the edge of downtown Annapolis. A few shapes meandered there, roaming in seemingly random paths. Skulls, no doubt.

  The two Zodiacs trailed behind the chopper now. They would land well after Miguel and Andris had a chance to scout out the area from the sky. The chopper shuddered again, steel shaking against steel. Miguel’s arm tensed. He felt the muscles and nerves in his missing limb tense as well. A ghost of the past, never to leave him, always to remind him of everything and everyone he’d lost.

  “ETA five minutes,” Frank said.

  Miguel nodded and tightened the grip on his SCAR-H. He vowed that he wouldn’t let death take another Hunter today. Not a single goddamn one. If he died atop the chapel, ringing that bell and attracting every fucking Skull in the state of Maryland, at least he would die a hero.

  ***

  “Charlie, this is Alpha. What’s it look like on the ground?” Dom waited. The static in his earpiece settled.

  “Copy, Alpha. This is Charlie,” Miguel replied. “We’re not seeing much. Scattered Skulls, most looking like lazy sons of bitches.”

  “Can’t be too careful, Charlie.” Dom readjusted his position between Jenna and Owen in the Zodiac so he could better see the AW109 making its rounds over the Academy. “Remember how quickly they forget their lethargy when they see fresh meat.”

  “Roger that.”

  Spencer slowed the throttle, and the Zodiac sputtered. The motor noise lessened to a low gurgle in their approach to the basin. The docks were lined with yard patrol craft and sailboats. Their masts stood tall and bare as trees in the winter. Only four slips lay empty. At least someone might’ve escaped from the Academy, but judging by the sheer number of remaining boats, most people hadn’t been so lucky.

  Dom held his binos to his face to better survey the area around the basin. A line of trees obscured the view of most of the campus. A few white buildings peeked out between the dense trunks. Shapes moved, shadowed by the leaves and branches. And though they remained largely in the shade of the trees, Dom could see enough of their ghastly silhouettes to tell they were Skulls.

  Two long barriers sheltered the basin, leaving only a single way for seacraft to enter and exit. The Zodiac drifted toward it now.

  “Bravo, Alpha. Do you copy?” Dom asked.

  “Copy, Alpha,” Renee replied. “We’re mooring now.”

  “As soon as you make contact with the survivors, you can give us the go-ahead. We’re in position now.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  The Zodiac started to drift into the entrance of the basin, carried by the choppy waves.

  “Bring her back a bit, Spence,” Dom said.

  Spencer nodded and rotated the throttle. The motor’s gurgle kicked up in volume as the Zodiac twisted away from the basin.

  A growl echoed over the water in response. Dom turned, shouldering his rifle.
A Skull burst through the trees. When it caught sight of them, it tilted its head back and let out a deafening bellow. More Skulls poured from between the trees and raced over the docks.

  “Move, move, move!” Dom yelled.

  There was no use in keeping the motor quiet now. Spencer gunned it, and the Zodiac kicked up a spray of water. They started to put distance between themselves and the charging Skulls. But not before one leapt from the end of the dock. Its clawed hands pinwheeled, and its mouth opened. An earsplitting shriek escaped from between its cracked lips. The beast caught the gunwale while its body splashed into the water.

  Spencer kept the Zodiac pointed straight toward the bay and away from the basin. The Skull hoisted itself up, water sluicing off its skeletal growths and the rippling muscles that peeked out between the plates and spikes. It was a full six feet in height and wore the remains of a biker’s leather jacket, making it all the more menacing. Jenna and Owen adjusted their aim, but their rifles proved unwieldy at such a close distance. The beast sprang at Dom.

  Dom dropped his rifle and grabbed the Skull’s forearms. It snapped at him, spittle flying from between its teeth. The Skull let out another frustrated scream. Dom wrestled it away from his face, careful not to cut himself on the jagged bones climbing out of its flesh. He planted his boot on the creature’s chest and kicked it backward.

  The Skull tripped over the side of the Zodiac and fell into the churning water. It tangled one of its twisted hands in the rope around the gunwale. The Zodiac, still racing, dragged the creature. The Skull bounced against the craft and screamed, its eyes filled with hatred and hunger. Dom steadied his rifle, took aim, and planted two bullets into those eyes. Blood and gore splattered from the gunshot wounds. The creature’s arm went slack. It lost its grip and slipped under the dark waters.

  Dom’s earpiece crackled. Renee’s voice. “Alpha, this is Bravo. We’re in position.”

  “Copy,” Dom replied. “Charlie, do you read?”

  “Charlie here,” Miguel replied. “Still in the sky. Alpha, you trying to take our job of distracting the Skulls? Seems like they all ran your way, Chief.”

  Dom scanned the basin, and Spencer curled the Zodiac around to face it once again. A horde of Skulls clambered along the docks. Some leapt into the water, disappearing beneath its surface. Others let out frustrated howls, jostling each other for position.

  “Charlie, you got a better view than me on these guys?” Dom asked. “Can you tell me how many contacts we have on the docks?”

  “Eh, a good fifty, sixty, maybe,” Miguel replied. “You want us to ring that bell?”

  “Negative, Charlie.” He held up a hand to signal Spencer to slow the Zodiac once more. They floated a couple of dozen yards from the basin. Just enough to keep the Skulls riled up, but not close enough that they would attempt another stunt like the one Dom had dispatched. “This is going to cause a slight change in plans. But I told you Alpha would secure the docks, and that’s just what we’ll do. This might be easier than I thought.”

  He knelt at the stern of the Zodiac and signaled Jenna and Owen to shoulder their rifles.

  “Bring us in a little closer, Spence,” Dom said.

  The Zodiac gurgled forward.

  Jenna leaned her head forward slightly to see through her optics. “Captain, there aren’t sharks in the bay, right?”

  “No idea. Why? You don’t think they’d like to feed on Skull meat?”

  “Nah, it’s just that we’re about to chum the water with blood. We’ve got Skulls on dry land; I don’t want to deal with sharks, too.”

  “Easy solution for that.” Dom took aim. “Don’t fall off the boat. Fire at will!”

  The Hunters let loose. Skulls dropped to the docks, their heads snapped back by gunfire. Bodies slipped into the water; others fell across the bobbing sailboats. Even as their twisted kin fell to the Hunters’ trained aim, the Skulls climbed over each other, still desperate to get at live prey.

  The crew continued their barrage until the docks were void of the Skulls’ shrieks and howls. Only bodies and a slick layer of blood were left when Dom held up his hand to signal for the Hunters to hold their fire. Picking the Skulls off at a distance had been too easy. The grotesque shooting gallery meant his Hunters got to stay out of harm’s way. They waited a few minutes, the Zodiac bobbing in the basin, to see if any more Skulls would arrive late to the party.

  But no more showed. Maybe the unexpected attack had made the mission easier for the rest of his team, too, and for that, Dom was thankful.

  “How we looking from the air, Charlie?” Dom asked.

  “Pretty damn clear around the Academy. You got a half-dozen Skulls to the northwest, maybe three or four to the northeast. Otherwise, you made our job pretty pointless.”

  “Copy that, Charlie. Bravo, what’s your position?”

  “Alpha, the doors to the field house are locked,” Renee said. “Windows are barred. Might be able to gain entrance through an emergency exit on the east side. Permission to force entry, Captain?”

  “Permission granted. Watch out for civvies.”

  “Copy that.”

  Dom signaled Spencer to bring the Zodiac into one of the empty slips at the docks. Jenna and Owen immediately tied a couple of mooring lines to the bollards.

  “Alpha, this is Bravo,” Renee said. “We’ve gained entry.” A pause. “Not much to see. Just a hall. Going to check out the arena.”

  Dom climbed out onto the dock. His boot slipped in the mix of blood and saltwater. He steadied himself by grabbing the top of a piling. He offered a hand to Jenna and Owen. Spencer killed the motor and hopped up next to them.

  The slow, muffled breathing of the Bravo team members sifted through the comm link. Dom signaled Jenna to take point as they secured the dock and headed toward the Academy.

  “So far, no—” Renee stopped.

  Dom waited a tic and then asked, “Bravo, do you copy?”

  A loud roar echoed over the mic. Dom and the rest of the Alpha team Hunters flinched. A single word, a single syllable came through the din. “Skulls!”

  -25-

  Meredith shouldered her rifle, covering Renee and Terrence. They chose their steps carefully, avoiding the ring of dead Skulls littering the lawn and sidewalks. She’d known what to expect from the satellite imagery, but the smell of death and the macabre scene still made her retch. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves, and they inched toward Halsey Field House. Its central roof bulged like a surfacing whale. Underneath that dome lay the main arena, where she expected they’d find the survivors hunkered down.

  “Alpha, the doors to the field house are locked,” Renee said. “Windows are barred. Might be able to gain entrance through an emergency exit on the eastside. Permission to force entry, Captain?”

  “Permission granted,” Dom’s voice came back over the comm link. “Watch out for civvies.”

  “Copy that.”

  They made their way to the emergency exit. It was one of the few doors that hadn’t been boarded up.

  “Here we go.” Renee heaved the butt of her weapon into the wire-reinforced glass. It cracked, and she struck it again. She picked away at the glass and then pulled out her multi-tool to cut the wire. Each wire snapped and coiled until she had enough room to reach her gloved hand through and push the door out from inside. It cracked open, and Renee stuck her boot in the door.

  “Alpha, this is Bravo. We’ve gained entry.” Renee signaled for Terrence and Meredith to enter.

  Meredith followed Terrence’s hulking frame into the doorway. Plywood covered most of the windows. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A series of heavy doors lined the hall, presumably leading to the main arena. The floor seemed clear of debris and clutter—no signs of life anywhere. Meredith listened closely but could only hear the sound of her and the other two Hunters breathing.

  “Not much to see,” Renee said in a low voice, reporting to Dom again. “Just a hall. Going to check out the arena.�
��

  She indicated one of the heavy sets of doors with a nod, and Terrence took point.

  He leaned into one of the doors, a hand on the handle and the other holding his rifle. He pressed lightly on the handle. “Locked,” he said. “Want me to break it down?”

  “Hold up. Don’t know who we’ve got hiding behind those doors, so watch your fire. Don’t want any civilians harmed.” Renee gave the door a single rap with the back of her knuckles. “This is Renee Boland, crew member of the Huntress. We’re here on a search and rescue.”

  Meredith waited with bated breath, but no response came from within. She could see the gears turning behind Renee’s eyes. No doubt the squad leader was wondering whether there were actually survivors behind those doors.

  Renee knocked on the door again. “This is Renee Boland.” She spoke louder, repeating her words, and waited another twenty seconds. “I think I hear footsteps. Terrence, crack it open.”

  The Hunter did as commanded by swinging the stock of his rifle down on the lock. Renee pushed the door open slightly. Meredith couldn’t see past her, and the squad leader quickly drew back and closed the door. Her face was ashen and her eyes went wide. “Skulls,” she whispered. “Maybe they didn’t—”

  Something slammed against the door, knocking Terrence back. He fell, sliding on the polished wood floor. His rifle clattered beside him. “Fuck!”

  Meredith watched in horror. Something crashed against the door again, knocking it open all the way this time. In that brief moment she saw into the arena. Like she’d expected, it had served as a shelter. Boxes of MREs and canned food lined one side of the old basketball court. Cots were strewn about the center.

  But instead of the survivors—midshipmen, officers, and civilians—she’d expected to find sheltering there, a horde of Skulls filled the room. Hundreds of them. Mangled appendages, bones jutting through their skin, heads crowned in horns. A massive roar echoed. The creatures’ hunting cries grew louder, a sound so great it threatened to shake the air out of Meredith’s lungs.

  The one that had burst through the door rapidly scanned Renee, then Meredith, then Terrence. Its muscles coiled, and it sprang into the air. Meredith fired a quick burst. The rounds smashed against the Skull’s side, knocking it off its trajectory. It landed inches from Terrence.