The Extinction Cycle (Book 6): Extinction Aftermath

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  Durand glanced at her, then looked up at Horn. He turned back to his laptop and said, “Just stay out of our way.”

  Kate reached out and wrapped her arms around Reed, relaxing as a wave of calm washed over her. Although she had been briefly annoyed that he’d felt the need to protect her while she worked, in truth she was glad he was here. Together they could face anything.

  Reed’s gaze flitted over Kate’s shoulder. He slowly pulled away from her and walked past the other doctors to the front gate leading to the civilian dock. He stopped and looked at the police officer and his son on the other side.

  “Jake, right?” Reed said. “I thought you went back to the SZT in New York.”

  The man rubbed at his beard and said, “Who’s asking?” He pulled his son back from the red line.

  “Captain Reed Beckham. My team helped evacuate you and your son from New York during Operation Liberty.”

  The man’s dull eyes suddenly brightened. He looked at Reed’s hand, then the outline of the blade under his CBRN suit where a boot should have been.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Jake said. “I’m—It’s been a long few days. We were at the SZT in New York, but I requested a transfer to Plum Island. Things are bad there. Very bad.”

  “No need to be sorry,” Reed replied, moving to the right to let Durand and Ellis pass. “I’m just glad to see you and your son again.”

  Jake let his son walk forward to the checkpoint. “Timothy, can you say hello?”

  Timothy avoided Reed’s gaze but nodded and muttered, “Hi.”

  “Good to see you, kid,” Reed said. “We’ll get you through here in a few minutes. Just hang tight.”

  “Come on, let’s get this line moving!” shouted a man near the back.

  Timothy flinched at the voice and moved closer to his dad.

  “Hurry up!” someone else yelled. “We’re starving and exhausted.”

  “My daughter needs water!”

  The voices continued, and Durand gave a thumbs up to the Zodiacs floating below. The soldiers centered their rifles on the dock, preparing to fire on anyone that stepped past that red line.

  There were a hundred civilians, maybe more, stretching from the dock all the way up the ramp to the deck of the Monterey. To the east, rain streaked from the bulging gray clouds, the storm heading right for Plum Island.

  The soldier with the bullhorn brought it back to his visor. “Move forward. One at a time.”

  Durand directed the doctors and Marines into position. Kate and Ellis stood to the side of the desk where Durand took a seat. Case sat next to him. Horn and Beckham took up spots to the left and right side of the main gate, and the other three Marines stood guard at the back of the cage. The police officer cautiously stepped over the red line, then turned and whispered something to his son that sounded like Everything will be fine.

  Durand gestured for Jake to approach.

  Two drops of rain pelted the clipboard in Kate’s hands. It was supposed to be a smooth and quick process, but she could see the storm was about to throw everything off.

  Maybe we should have done this in segments, she thought. But it was too late to send everyone back now.

  “Proceed,” Durand said.

  Horn unlocked the gate and let Jake into the cage. Then Horn closed the gate, locked it, and directed the man to a blue circle in front of the desk.

  “Please remain within the blue circle and do exactly as we say,” Durand said. His voice was calm but firm. “Do you understand?”

  Jake nodded.

  “State your full name, age, and everywhere you have been for the past seven months,” Durand continued.

  “Jake Temper. I’m…” He paused for a moment and looked to the sky, blinking as if he was trying to remember, or possibly forget. “I’m forty-eight years old, and Timothy and I survived in New York City for the first month. We were then rescued by him.” He pointed toward Reed. “From there we were taken to the Wasp, where we lived for several months before it was overrun by juveniles. We escaped on a small boat to New England. We evaded the enemy for several days and were later rescued by Captain Rachel Davis of the George Washington. We were moved to the SZT in New York City, but I requested a transfer here.”

  “Noted,” said Durand. “Doctor Lovato will now ask you some questions about your medical history.”

  “Have you had any contact with anyone infected with the Hemorrhage Virus in the past ten days?” Kate asked.

  “No,” Jake replied.

  “I want you to answer the following question with a clear nod of your head if your answer is yes. If the answer is no, simply shake your head.” Kate paused for a moment and looked at the list even though she had it memorized. “Do you have any of the following symptoms: headache, fever, nausea, itching, or abdominal pain? Again, if the answer is yes to any of these symptoms, then simply nod. If it is no then shake your head.”

  Jake shook his head.

  “Good. Now please hold out your right arm. Doctor Ellis is going to take a blood sample.”

  Ellis approached with a V-chip testing card. As he reached for Jake’s arm, a man wearing trash bags and a dust mask collapsed on the dock. Four civilians around him moved away, pushing several other people behind them against the fence. The steel beams kept the metal chain links from buckling.

  “Everyone stay calm,” Horn ordered.

  The fences were meant to keep people isolated, but they weren’t built for so much pressure. If someone panicked, it could cause a stampede. With nowhere to go, the civilians would be crushed against the fences.

  The soldier with the bullhorn yelled, “Step away from that man! Do not touch him!”

  Beckham and Horn approached the gate but kept their weapons angled downward. The crowd continued moving away from the fallen man, who lay limp on the dock.

  Horn turned to Durand. “Yo, Doc, what do we do about this guy?”

  Durand ignored him and spoke into his comms.

  “Command, this is Doctor Durand. We have a civilian down on the dock. He is not moving but shows no obvious signs of infection. Please advise.”

  “Copy that. We’re reviewing video footage to see what happened. In the meantime, send in someone to escort him to the biofac.”

  Reed pivoted toward the door, but Horn held up his hand. “I got this, boss.”

  “Go with him,” Durand said to two of the Marines standing sentry behind him.

  Both of the men nodded and shouldered their M4s as they followed Horn through the open gate. Reed gestured for Timothy to move out of the way. The boy did as ordered, and the crowd slowly shifted to the left to allow Horn and the two Marines through.

  That gave Kate a better view of the civilian on the dock. An Atlanta Braves hat and a dust mask obscured his features.

  “Careful, Big Horn,” Beckham said.

  Horn raised his M4 and approached in a crouch. Slowly, the three men made their way toward the downed man. More civilians parted to give them room.

  Halfway there, the fallen man’s tennis shoe suddenly twitched. Then it kicked, and he brought his left knee up. He sat up, his head cracking from side to side in a robotic fashion.

  “What the hell is wrong with him?” someone yelled.

  “Back up! Back up!” another shouted.

  It only took a second for the screaming to start.

  Kate reached out to grab Reed’s arm, but he was already raising his rifle.

  “Timothy,” Jake said. “It’s okay, son. Daddy’s here. Just stay calm and don’t move, okay?”

  “Stay in the blue circle,” Durand ordered.

  A transmission broke across the main radio channel. “Cage 1, video footage shows the civilian was stabbed with a syringe. The perp is wearing a gray sweatshirt and black pants.”

  “Oh my God,” Kate whispered. She exchanged a meaningful look with Ellis. They both knew what was in that syringe.

  “Cage 1, you are authorized to use deadly force.”

  “Lock that gate,” D
urand ordered.

  “Timothy,” Jake said. He reached out for his son, but the Marine in the cage pointed his rifle at the former police officer.

  “Stay where you are, sir,” he said in a shaky voice.

  Kate’s world slowed to an agonizing pace. She couldn’t seem to move as she watched the man in the garbage bag leap to his feet like an acrobat and then crouch, head still at an awkward angle. Blood was dripping from his ears, nose, and wild, yellow eyes.

  “He’s infected!” someone yelled.

  “Take it down!” came a voice over the line.

  What had been a human being minutes before swiped at the closest person, opening up four parallel gashes on the poor man’s stomach. Then he bounded forward on all fours and leapt onto a woman who was trying desperately to back away.

  The gunner on the Zodiac to the left hesitated, but the other one opened up. The big gun barked to life. Rounds cut through the fences and tore into the infected man, blowing off his arm and his left leg at the knee. Blood splattered the civilians all around.

  “NO!” Kate yelled at the same time as Reed.

  Jake ran to the gate, but the Marine behind him was too busy staring in shock to fire.

  “Open it!” Jake insisted.

  “Do not open that gate!” Durand shouted.

  Reed fumbled with the keys. He found the correct one and opened the gate to allow Timothy through.

  Horn and the two Marines were already retreating with their rifles aimed at the civilians now covered in blood. One of them twitched and jerked, turning into a monster in mere seconds. The gunners on the Zodiacs focused their fire.

  “Hurry!” Reed shouted. “Get those kids out of there!”

  Horn backpedaled away from the carnage, but several people behind them were also running for the gate.

  “Close that door!” Durand shouted. He hurried over and reached for the key. “That’s an order, Captain.”

  Reed ignored the doctor and held the gate open.

  A Black Hawk buzzed overhead, and the door gunner joined the slaughter as more civilians started clawing at their eyes—and each other. The crowd at the other end of the dock raced away from the gunfire and back to the ramp that led to the Monterey.

  The radio flared to life. “Fox 1 to 5, you have permission to fire. Do not let anyone back onto the ship.”

  The civilians were torn to pieces as gunfire rained from above and below.

  Kate fell to her knees, whimpering in a voice she didn’t recognize. How could this be happening? How could someone have been carrying a hypodermic of the Hemorrhage Virus? And why?

  She couldn’t think over all the screaming and gunfire.

  Horn lowered his rifle and grabbed a child. One of the Marines seized the woman’s wheelchair and pushed her down the dock. The second Marine picked up a little girl in one arm and a boy in the other. They were ten feet away now, but the Zodiacs were closing in.

  “Hold your fucking fire!” Reed shouted over the comms.

  “Shoot them! Shoot them all!” Durand yelled back.

  The doctor pushed at the gate, but Reed held it open with his good hand. Then, in a swift motion, he punched Durand in the side of his helmet with his prosthetic. The French doctor dropped to the deck like a tree falling over.

  Horn and the other two Marines burst through the open gate with the remaining civilians in tow. Reed held it open to let several more through.

  Kate sobbed as she watched blood-splattered men, women, and children crawling toward them, pleading for mercy. More blood spilled over the side of the dock and dumped into the sloshing ocean.

  “My God,” Kate said. “My God, what have we done?”

  A panicked voice said from inside the cage, “You got a tear in your suit, man!”

  The two Marines with Horn backed away from him. He lowered the boy he was carrying and put him down, then looked down at his right bicep. A round had grazed his sleeve, leaving a bloody streak.

  Kate could hardly hear anything over the gunfire, but she did pick up the next transmission over the comms.

  “To those in Cage 1, place your weapons on the deck and stay where you are. Do not attempt to leave, or you will be fired upon.”

  Reed helped Kate to her feet and then placed his gun down. Horn did the same, and the other Marines complied. Case bent down to check Durand, who was holding his injured head.

  The gunfire from the Zodiacs died as the crafts fled the scene to avoid the bloody waves. Pops sounded from the deck of the Monterey as Marines picked off the few bodies still moving on the dock.

  Of the hundred or so civilians, only nine had made it into the cage. There were five children, Jake, two other men, and the woman in a wheelchair. And it wasn’t over yet. She eyed the BSL4 facility on the platform to the east. In a few minutes, they would all be led there, with every gun on Plum Island pointed at their backs.

  -3-

  President Jan Ringgold sat in the new Oval Office, sipping on a cup of hot green tea and looking out at the Allegheny Mountains.

  There had been a lot of debate about the location. From the George Washington aircraft carrier to an ambitious plan to rebuild the White House on Plum Island, everyone had had an opinion. In the end, President Ringgold had chosen to return to the mainland. It didn’t hurt that the Greenbrier Resort in West Virginia had a Cold War-era bunker under it, but it was the beauty of the mountains that had sealed the deal.

  After a month of remodeling above ground and another month and a half of hardening the structure below and updating security features, the new White House was finally operational. Much of the Classical Revival architecture of the resort had been salvaged, despite a fire that had ravaged the east building during Operation Liberty.

  Ringgold stepped closer to the window and blew on her still-steaming tea. Floodlights illuminated the freshly mown grounds and flowers overflowing from the ceramic pots. She couldn’t see them now, but the leaves on the trees framing the courtyards were changing. The sight of a Secret Service agent armed with a shotgun walking along the stone path reminded her that threats still existed despite the beauty all around them. It might always be that way, but the country was slowly recovering.

  She brought her cup back to her lips and sighed before taking a drink. The little luxuries kept her spirits up in a time of turmoil and uncertainty, but sometimes she wondered how much more she could take. She had been president for one hundred and two days. Every hour, no matter what time it was, she faced life and death decisions. Tonight her mind was jumping from worry to worry. Operation Beachhead was about to begin, and she would soon head down to the situation room for updates.

  A knock at her door told her that she was probably about to face another challenge. She turned away from the windows and called for the visitor to come in. She pulled at her cufflinks and brushed the wrinkles out of her suit to prepare.

  Vice President George Johnson strode into the room, his expression grim.

  “We have a situation, Madame President.” He slowly shut the door behind him.

  Ringgold took a final sip of her tea and set it down. “Have a seat, George.” She gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

  Johnson stiffened his back and held out a folder marked Confidential. “All due respect, ma’am, I’d prefer to stand. I’ve been sitting in the situation room for the past hour with the Joint Chiefs and my generals.”

  “Is Operation Beachhead underway?”

  “Actually, that’s not why I’m here.”

  Ringgold narrowed her eyes and took the folder. It wasn’t unusual for Johnson to meet with his team without her. That was part of the deal. He oversaw the military, and she oversaw the rebuilding efforts and handled civilian matters. Scooping her red-framed glasses from the desk, she put them on and opened the folder.

  “Inside you will find a list of all our SZTs,” Johnson said.

  Ringgold skimmed the safe zone territories, noting the red check marks next to several of them. They had constructed
over seventy-five of the strongholds across the country, at least one in each state. The juvenile populations were slowly being eradicated in every major city, and any survivors they rescued were evacuated to the closest SZT, where they would receive housing assignments, food, and medical treatment. But not all of the strongholds were as secure as they had planned, and Ringgold had a feeling that was exactly what the red check marks meant.

  Portland, Oregon. Chicago, Illinois. Des Moines, Iowa. Kansas City, Missouri. Denver, Colorado. Boston, Massachusetts. The list went on and on.

  “The safe zones are reporting some very disturbing news,” Johnson said. “We are receiving reports of the Hemorrhage Virus. There has been one documented case in every marked SZT.”

  Ringgold stopped reading to meet Johnson’s eyes.

  “The Hemorrhage Virus? How is that possible?”

  Johnson cleared his throat. “VX9H9 was never one hundred percent effective.”

  “What about Kryptonite? I thought it was supposed to kill anyone left alive who had been infected.”

  He shook his head. “There were areas outside the range of both weapons. Underground, very rural areas, ships.”

  “Have you informed the Medical Corps at Plum Island?”

  Johnson nodded. “Yes, Madame President. We just shipped over a briefing this morning.”

  “Good. Perhaps Kate can shed some light on this.”

  Johnson pulled at his collar before continuing.

  “That’s not the worst of it. There aren’t packs of infected. Only individuals trying to enter the SZTs. It’s odd. So far we have been able to contain all of them…until today.”

  Ringgold resisted the urge to pull at her own collar. “What happened?”

  “It’s SZT 15, Madame President. Turn to page 29.”

  She quickly flipped through the pages, knowing exactly which SZT she was looking for. It was Chicago, and it was special to her for more reasons than one. Her cousin Emilia, who had survived in the countryside and been rescued by a squad of Marines, was living there.

  “That’s a transcript of the last transmission we received.”