Extinction Point: Kings (Extinction Point Series (5 book series))

by Paul Antony Jones

  Petter looked curiously at Mac but Emily had been with her husband long enough to know that one of the top items on his 'things I miss since the end of the world' list was a British 'delicacy'—his words, not hers—that involved putting a stick of chocolate in an ice-cream cone, often consumed when on holiday at the seaside.

  "It's a Scottish thing," Emily said, by way of explanation to the bemused Norwegian officer. Petter shook his head, then carefully dropped his handful of beach detritus into the soft sand at his feet. Mac dropped what he was carrying alongside it, all except for the long thin stick.

  "No, my dear, dear love, we will not be making sand castles, as I forgot to pack my bucket and spade," he said smiling at his wife, "what we will be doing is planning our attack and I will be using these"—he tapped the bits of wood, rock, and shell with the tip of his boot—"to help us create a map of Point Loma base."

  •••

  With Emily's help Mac spent the next ten minutes recounting the layout of Point Loma from memory, while drawing an outline in the sand of the base. Mac identified the sentry towers with driftwood, highlighted the sleeping quarters of Valentine and her close supporters with pieces of shell, and drew in the roads and other buildings using his stick.

  "We go at oh-one-hundred-hours," Mac said to the twenty men and women crowded in a semi-circle around his sand drawing. There would be five teams of four personnel who would move to secure key locations, while Mac, Emily, and Djupvik would be tasked with taking Valentine in her quarters. The crew members who were not going to be taking part in the raid would wait with Rhiannon in the Machine.

  "Why don't we just take Emily's machine and walk right in there?" a soldier said.

  "Well, for one, it makes a hell of a racket; they'd be ready for us. Second; we want to take the ringleaders alive. That means keeping any engagements to a minimum, preferably to zero if possible. We're confident that if we grab Valentine, any resistance will crumble."

  "How do we get across from Coronado to Point Loma?" someone asked.

  Emily answered the question, "There are two Zodiacs stored here on the island, in case any of the Point Loma scavenger teams get into trouble or suffer a problem with their own transportation. We can use them to ferry you all across."

  "Rules of engagement?"

  "Most of these folks are unwilling participants in Valentine's plan," Mac said. "They are going to be very surprised when we show up back at camp, so non-lethal force where you can."

  "And if they resist?" another soldier asked.

  "Then you do what you have to, to ensure the safety of yourself and your team," Mac said, stone-faced.

  CHAPTER 10

  The assault team set off an hour later, following the curve of the beach along the southern flank of Coronado Island. Just before dark, they reached the ruins of the North Island Naval Air Station, and immediately hid in what had once been a storage shed, but was now just an overgrown ruin. It would suffice, though, giving the team a place to stay out of sight of any of Point Loma's sentries.

  "I'll be right back," Mac said, he grabbed a pair of night-vision goggles then disappeared out through the door-less exit.

  About fifteen minutes later he was back.

  "Zodiacs are where we left them," he told Emily and Petter. Mac had given the two boats a detailed inspection and declared both seaworthy. Each boat could hold up to fifteen passengers and equipment. Rather than use the outboard motors, the attacking force was going to have to paddle across the estuary separating Coronado Island from the mainland, and Point Loma. "We lay up here until oh-one-hundred hours," Mac continued, keeping his voice low, checking his wristwatch. "In the meantime, get some sleep if you can. I'll keep watch."

  It seemed to Emily that everyone but her managed to get some rest in the hours that followed. She was nervous, antsy, and sleep refused to come to her. This close to home—as that was, she realized, exactly how she felt about Point Loma—the memory of those final days before she and Rhiannon and Thor had (quite literally) flown away, came flooding back. The memory of Adam's abduction; how Valentine had used it to have her arrested; how that bitch had tried to have her murdered; and how Valentine surely would have succeeded, if it had not been for Rhiannon's timely intervention. She regretted the deaths of the two men that had followed (well, she regretted one of them, but the other, the man who Valentine had ordered to rape and murder her, that man she wished could be killed all over again). And now, the hour was fast approaching that she would finally be face-to-face with Valentine again. But this time, if luck and surprise and good planning were all on her side, the tables would be turned. She hadn't given much thought to how the confrontation might play out before this moment, but now she wondered how she would react when Valentine was within punching distance. Emily's base desire was to simply put a bullet in the woman's brain and be done with it, but that would make her no better than Valentine, and if there was to be a reunification of the other survivors with an eye to moving forward, then there would have to be a trial. A fair trial and a fair verdict. But that opened up the possibility that Valentine would get off, be set free, and Emily had met enough people like Valentine in her life to know that she would never change. Not ever.

  Emily's thoughts were interrupted by the touch of someone's hand against her shoulder.

  She turned and saw Mac illuminated by the dim glow of a flashlight covered by a piece of thin cloth that allowed just enough light to see him by but not enough that it would betray their presence.

  "Almost time," he said, smiling at her. "You ready, love?"

  Emily nodded.

  "Okay, let's wake the rest of these Muppets up and get on with it."

  He squeezed Emily's shoulder gently, smiled, then began moving from sleeping body to sleeping body.

  Emily took a second to gather herself, then she too set about waking the rest of the team.

  •••

  If anything, this was the exact opposite of what the Zodiacs were designed for. Rather than zipping across the water with their powerful motors, the boats performed a slow, methodical crawl across the strait separating Coronado Island and Point Loma's dock, which lay three hundred or so meters away. Six of the occupants in each boat paddled in unison toward the shore, timing each downward sweep of their paddles with the next oncoming wave that lifted the boat. Their progress was made even more difficult by the rough seas that insisted on pushing the Zodiacs farther up the channel, in the direction of the remains of San Diego. Clouds obscured the moon, the darkened sky providing perfect cover for their covert approach, but lights glowed across the Point Loma base; floodlights had kicked on automatically at dusk, illuminating the compound, and here and there, despite the late hour, light shone from windows.

  They angled the boats toward the concrete dock, night-vision-assisted eyes scanning the area for any sign of a sentry or patrol. None were visible, so they maneuvered the two Zodiacs alongside the wharf. The boats' sides scraped loudly against the concrete for a moment, the sound swallowed by waves smacking against the walls, before coming to a stop, rising and falling on the waves' swells. Two men from each boat leaped to shore and quickly tied them off. The rest of the assault team climbed up onto the wharf, then with a go-signal from Mac, silently moved off toward their assigned targets.

  Mac, Emily, and Petter watched as the other teams disappeared into the darkness. With a nod from Mac, they moved toward the nearest building and began to quickly make their way through the compound aiming for the apartment block where Valentine was, hopefully, sound asleep and blissfully unaware of the wrath that was about to come crashing down on her head. Mac's plan was to take Valentine and her cohorts alive. He figured that once they had Valentine in their hands, any resistance would quickly fade.

  They came up from the south, managing to stay in the shadows until they reached Valentine's apartment building. But now they would have to negotiate an exposed eight-meter stretch of ground that would leave them fully visible during the few seconds they needed
to get across, thanks to the light from a lamp above the apartment building's entrance.

  "Emily, you go first. We'll cover you," Mac said softly, crouching next to Emily in the darkness, his head swiveling as he continuously checked for movement.

  Emily gave a sharp nod.

  "Go," Mac whispered.

  Emily took a deep breath then sprinted toward the building at a crouch. She reached the apartment building entrance, held her breath that the door would not be locked, grabbed the handle and pulled.

  The door swung open. She breathed a sigh of relief, ducked her head into the interior and quickly scanned the entrance. It was empty. She slipped inside, double-checked that she was alone, then turned back and gave Mac and Petter a thumbs-up. One after the other the men ran to Emily and slipped through the door she held open for them.

  "Second floor," Emily whispered. "Room 2a."

  The two men nodded and moved toward the stairwell. Emily winced at the sound of the door creaking loudly as Mac held it open for her and Petter. They made their way up the stairs, opened the door to the second floor and stepped out, their weapons swinging back and forth. The floor was empty, no sleepwalkers or guards in sight.

  "This way," Emily said, nodding to the left. The three figures moved silently and quickly along the corridor until they reached Valentine's apartment.

  Mac reached out and tried the door. "Locked," he whispered. He motioned for Petter and Emily to move away, then stepped back and in one swift movement, stomped his foot with all his considerable weight against the door just above the lock. The door almost broke free on Mac's first kick, the lock hanging on to a few pieces of splintered wood which flew away as Mac shoulder-barged through into the apartment. The door slammed back against the interior wall loud enough to wake anyone else asleep on the same floor. Mac, then Petter, then Emily ran inside. They raced into the main bedroom, weapons ready.

  The bedroom and its bed were empty.

  Emily caught Mac's perplexed look before he turned and ran out to the living room. Emily followed him, noting that there was no sign of anyone there either, then moved into the kitchen. It was also empty, but there was a plate on the kitchen table. It was impossible to tell what the food that still sat on the plate had been, as it was now nothing more than mold. A knife and fork lay on the floor near the feet of a chair that lay slightly askew, as if whoever had been sitting here had suddenly stood up, dropping the cutlery.

  "Mac, do you copy?" The sudden sound of the walkie-talkie was startlingly loud in the silent apartment.

  Mac raised the microphone to his mouth. "Go ahead."

  "We're at the north sentry post. It's deserted."

  Another voice cut in: "This is Team Two, we're at the south post. Not a sign of anyone here, either."

  Mac's forehead furrowed, his eyebrows drawing closer together. He paused for a second then spoke into the microphone. "Team Three and Four, are you at your target locations?"

  "Team Three, here. Can't be completely sure but there doesn't appear to be anyone around, sir. The place...it feels...deserted." Team Three had been assigned to the main apartment area to ensure that if an alarm was sounded, they would catch any potential responders before they could exit the building.

  "Team Four reporting, main gate security booth is empty, sir. The barrier is up. No sign of anyone."

  Mac announced into the radio, "All teams, hold your positions until you hear back from me."

  Emily walked back to the door they had broken down and stepped out into the hallway. There were several other apartments along this hall and, given the amount of noise they had made busting down the door to Valentine's apartment, she would have expected that someone would have come to investigate what the hell was happening. She waited in the corridor for a few moments and just listened.

  Not a sound. Not even a creak.

  "What do you think's going on?" Mac's voice startled Emily.

  "I have no idea," she said, "but whatever it is, I don't like it."

  •••

  "Knock it down," Mac instructed Petter.

  Petter nodded and kicked open the door to the apartment next to Valentine's with a single hard thump from his booted foot. Mac dodged inside, his rifle swinging left and right as he moved through each of the rooms.

  "It's clear. Come on in," he said twenty seconds after entering. Emily and Petter followed him inside.

  "You turned the lights on?" Emily asked as she walked to where Mac stood in the center of the living room.

  "No," said Mac, with a shake of his head, "They were already on when I came in." He paused for a second, slowly turning left then right, surveying the room. "There's something just not right about this."

  Emily followed suit, allowing her eyes to roam over the living room they stood in. An open book lay cover up on a coffee table. She glanced at the title; Toward Yesterday, written by some author whose name seemed vaguely familiar to her. A mug of congealed liquid which at some point might have been coffee, sat next to it. She stepped into the bedroom. The bedsheets had been thrown back as though someone had gotten out of the bed and not bothered to make it. Emily slid back the closet door; inside there was a selection of men's and women's clothes hanging neatly from plastic hangers.

  She rejoined Mac and Petter in the living room. "It's like they just up and left," she said. "They didn't even take their clothes." After food and shelter, clothing was one of the most precious supplies the Point Loma survivors had. After all, it wasn't like they could walk into a mall and just buy new ones. There was no way whoever lived in this apartment would have walked out on a closet full of clothing unless they had absolutely no choice.

  "Do you think they knew we were coming?" Petter asked, looking suddenly wary, as if an assailant might leap from a cupboard or from behind a sofa.

  Mac shook his head. "If they spotted us earlier in the day, they would have had more than enough time to set up an ambush. They could have hit us as we landed on the beach. They outnumber us massively. We wouldn't have stood a chance."

  "I agree, this is something else," Emily said. Her mind went back to the night the Caretakers had come for Adam. She turned to the two men. "Before Rhiannon and I left Point Loma to go search for Adam, I had a dream. Except it wasn't a dream, it was Adam, showing me what the Caretakers were doing to him. His way of trying to warn me, I suppose. He was sharing with me how the Caretakers kidnapped him. If it wasn’t for that 'dream', and the telepathic ability that Adam uses to communicate with me over distance, I wouldn't have had any idea how or where my son had been taken."

  Both men looked at Emily, neither saying anything.

  "Soooooo," Emily continued, "Maybe something like that happened here, after we left."

  "But you told us the Caretakers were all dead," Mac said.

  Emily gently gnawed at her bottom lip. "I know," she said, "that's what Adam told me, but maybe he's wrong. Or maybe the Caretakers came back to Point Loma while Rhiannon and I were still searching for Adam."

  Mac stepped in close to his wife and laid a hand against her arm. "Can you reach Adam now? Ask him if he knows what's going on here?"

  "I'll try," Emily said. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax, searching her mind for the strand, that psychic connection to her son. But it wasn't there. She opened her eyes, shook her head. "Nothing. He must still be recovering. Adam said he would establish communication with me when he was strong enough again."

  "So, we're on our own then," said Mac.

  "But, maybe this is something else, unrelated to these Caretakers you talk about," said Petter.

  "Like what?" Emily asked, turning to face the Norwegian.

  "Isn't it simply more likely that they just left? Maybe moved somewhere else?"

  "Where?" Emily asked. "There isn't an intact city for thousands of miles, maybe none at all, for all we know."

  "And all three submarines were still in their bays, we passed them on the way in. We know they didn't leave in them."

  The subs
. Emily hadn't thought about the three submarines still docked on the waterfront. "Maybe they're in the subs," she said.

  "Why?" asked Mac. "Why would they leave a perfectly good, undamaged building to take refuge in a submarine? That makes no sense."

  Emily considered the question for a few seconds. "Maybe a storm? Or something...else."

  Petter shook his head. "I don't think so, we saw no signs of storm damage on our way in. Both of these apartments look like they were abandoned suddenly, and without much of a struggle."

  Mac stroked his chin, rubbing his fingers over his stubble for a good ten seconds or so. Then he took up his radio and spoke. "All teams. Rendezvous at our location. Copy?"

  "Copy!" came the reply from each of the team leaders.

  Within five minutes the rest of the assault team rolled into the apartment. They all looked nervous, Emily noted, as they filtered inside what had been Valentine's apartment.

  "Find a place to make yourselves comfortable," Mac said. "We're going to bed down in here for the night. Johnson, Wilkinson. You two have first watch. Stevens and Richford; you're on second watch. Four hours. Got it?"

  The men nodded, then Johnson and Wilkinson stepped back out of the room and took up position in the corridor.

  "The rest of you, get some shuteye. We're going to do a bit of exploring come morning."

  •••

  Emily woke surprisingly refreshed. After the teams had arrived the previous night, she had settled in on the sofa with Mac. They had talked quietly for a few minutes until the sound of the others' snoring had gotten both her and Mac giggling like a couple of silly teenagers. Then she had simply settled silently against him, feeling the warmth of his body seeping through his fatigues, the smell of his skin and sweat in her nostrils, the whisper of his breath, rhythmic and full against her hair. She had eventually slipped into a deep sleep. When Emily awoke, she was stretched out fully across the entire sofa, a comforter had been spread over her at some point while she slept. As her sleep-blurred vision cleared, she saw the rest of the crew were up and moving around. A delicious aroma filtered through the apartment and drew her to full consciousness. Mac was talking with Petter and another soldier near the kitchen.