“We have to get back to the ship before they leave,” Davis said. “I’m guessing that’s going to be soon, but they must still have soldiers in the field.”
Black shot her a glance. “All due respect, but you gotta be kiddin’ me, ma’am. They got at least fifty men, bunch of them Little Birds, and hostages.”
“What about the rest of the strike group?” Diaz asked.
“Too far away,” Davis replied. “I’m sure they’re already inbound, but by the time they get here it’ll be too late.”
“Maybe we should consider the GW a loss, ma’am,” Black said. There was fear in his voice, but he held her gaze. “Maybe we should let the big dogs handle this.”
Davis shook her head. “Absolutely not. That’s my ship. I lost her once, and I got her back. I’m going to get her back again. I understand if you want to stay here and hide....”
“I’m with you, Commander,” Diaz said.
Black sighed. “So what’s your plan? Steal a boat and—”
Raised voices cut him off. He ducked down and fell to his stomach. Diaz took up position behind a second tree, and Davis joined her.
To the north, several soldiers in black CBRN suits walked down the gravel road. Several more men in white suits trailed them, hands bound, and heads bowed.
Davis centered her M4’s optics on the prisoners, focusing on a face that looked even worse than when she had seen it aboard the GW a few hours ago. Blood dripped down Sergeant Marks’s battered features. He shuffled along with the other two Marines toward the docks.
The hum of engines came from the south. Two black Zodiacs coasted over the waves away from the GW, packed full of ROT soldiers. There were two fire-teams—far too many to engage.
Black looked to Davis for orders. It pained her to do it, but she flashed the signal to stand down. He flared his nostrils and pushed his eye back to the optics on his SAW. She wanted to tell him to open fire, but she couldn’t risk it. Not with those reinforcements on the way.
Davis waited in silence, listening to the chirp of bugs and the buzz of the distant helicopters. Flames ate the city to the west. Her skin was coated with soot and ash, and her lungs burned from the smoke. Diaz and Black were waiting for her next orders, their faces filthy and apprehensive.
They had to do something. Davis refused to just sit there while a bunch of terrorists stole her ship.
Diaz’s eyes suddenly went wide, and she jerked her mud-streaked chin toward the water about two hundred feet away from the Zodiacs.
Waves moved across the surface as if miniature submarines were gliding underneath. They fanned out into three, then six different arrows. Davis spotted rough, armored shells just beneath the surface.
“Juveniles,” Diaz whispered.
Davis centered her M4 back on the dock. Sergeant Marks stood at the edge, a gun pointed at his back. The other two Marines stumbled up to his side. The team of ROT soldiers hung back with their weapons shouldered. They were going to execute the Marines.
Marks turned toward the men. “You’re not going to get away with this you sons of bitches! Admiral Humphrey will have you all hanged for treason.”
Davis shook her head. Sarge was about to get himself and the other two Marines shot.
One of the ROT soldiers let out a muffled laugh. “Humphrey is dead, you old prick. Now shut your mouth, or I’ll put a bullet in it.”
Marks took a step backward, and Davis lowered her rifle, her stomach dropping like she was about to jump out of a plane. Humphrey was dead?
This is your fault. You’re the reason he’s dead. You should never have left the ship, you selfish…
The anger and shame almost caused Davis to do something stupid. She was halfway to pulling the trigger, and damn the consequences, but she forced herself to stand down. She took in a smoky breath and reminded herself of the truth.
You didn’t kill Humphrey. These terrorists did.
She took in another breath and exhaled. She couldn’t lose her cool now.
Quick and steady, Rachel. You got this.
The curved backs of the juveniles cut through the water as the beasts surfaced. They were swimming toward the Zodiacs. Despite their armored shells, they were fast—much faster than their Variant parents.
Davis waited for the monsters to attack. It would buy her a window to take out the soldiers guarding Marks, but it could also end up giving away their position. If things went south, she didn’t want to engage half a dozen juveniles and three teams of ROT soldiers.
She had two choices: Fight, or sit here and watch whatever happened next.
It took a glance at the horizon, where the GW waited in the sparkling water, for Davis to make up her mind. They would kill the ROT soldiers guarding Marks and the other Marines as soon as the juveniles attacked the men in the Zodiacs. Then they would steal the ROT uniforms as disguises to get back onto the GW. It was a long shot, but this was the best and only opportunity she would get.
The crafts coasted over the waves, drawing closer by the second. The soldiers in the bow jolted up and down, unaware that Davis was already choosing which of them would die first. She zoomed in on a face obscured by a gas mask and made her decision.
“Black and Diaz, you take the assholes on the dock. I’ll focus my fire on the Zodiacs. Cover those Marines. Try to keep the juveniles away from them.”
Together, the trio crept into position.
Davis kept her crosshairs on the soldier at the helm of the lead Zodiac. She was preparing to fire when the craft suddenly burst into the air, sending the occupants cartwheeling in all directions. A pair of juveniles surfaced, their maws snapping. One of the beasts jumped out of the water like a great white shark and clamped its teeth over the helmet and shoulders of a soldier. It dove back into the water with its prey and vanished under the surface.
The boat landed a second later with a splash.
Screaming, gunfire, and the screeches of enraged, hungry monsters filled the smoky morning air. The soldiers in the second Zodiac fired at the circling juveniles. Bullets connected with targets Davis couldn’t see.
She trained her gun on the dock, where Marks and the two Marines were being pulled away by their captors. Four ROT soldiers forced their way past the men and took up position on the end of the dock.
“Now,” Davis ordered.
She centered her crosshairs on the two soldiers guarding Marks and his men. Her first shot clipped her target in the back of his helmet. Marks seized the opportunity to grab the rifle from the other soldier. An instant later, the other two Marines wrestled the final ROT man to the ground. Marks pulled the soldier’s knife and silenced him with a swift stroke across the throat.
Black unloaded on the four men at the front of the dock. Splinters exploded as bullets tore up the wooden platform. One of the soldiers clutched his chest and fell into the water. The other three turned to fire on Davis’s position. Black killed another man with a shot to the throat before he was forced to take cover.
Diaz let out a screech and dropped to the ground. Two rounds bit into the tree above Davis’s head. She cursed but didn’t have time to check on her bodyguard. She squeezed off three shots and crouched as another round punched into the bark where her helmet had been. Her next shot hit one of the ROT soldiers in his visor. She looked back at Diaz.
“You okay?”
“I’m good,” Diaz said. She quickly pushed herself off the ground. “Round hit my weapon. No harm, no foul.”
Davis felt a swell of pride. The woman had conviction, a true warrior. She roved her gun back to the Zodiacs. Bloody bubbles frothed around the capsized boat. The men in the second craft continued to unload their weapons into the water around them. The three soldiers had no fire discipline, and the juveniles seemed to be waiting under the surface for them to run out of magazines.
Smart, Davis thought. Too smart.
Black continued to fire on the dock, taking out the last of the ROT soldiers. The men crumpled in heaps of twisted limbs.
“Over here!” Davis shouted. She waved at Marks, who was busy relieving a dead man of his radio and SCAR. The other two Marines grabbed weapons, then followed the sergeant toward the shore.
“Let’s go!” Davis shouted. She yanked Diaz to her feet, and with Black on point, they took off running.
The guns on the Zodiac behind them went silent, one by one. Davis risked a glance over her shoulder just as a juvenile leapt from the water and tackled the final soldier. Bubbles surrounded the sinking craft. A hand broke the surface, and then a face.
“Help me!”
Davis would have shot him to end his suffering if it had been one of her Marines, but this man didn’t deserve an ounce of mercy. For the first time since the outbreak, she felt no sympathy for a human killed by the monsters. The ROT terrorists deserved to be ripped to shreds.
-10-
Horn and Beckham made their way through the streets toward the central embassy building. Dressed in civilian clothing, the two former Delta Operators walked unnoticed through the throngs of soldiers and the citizens of Plum Island. If it weren’t for their weapons, they might have been mistaken for farmers in their jeans and sweatshirts. But today they weren’t working the fields. They were headed to a meeting called by Mayor Antoine Walker. Every man and woman who could fire a gun had been invited to the embassy to discuss the recent attack.
The event had cast a dark shadow over the island. Everyone seemed to be paranoid. Civilians huddled together, talking in hushed voices. On a normal day, the market would have been a bustling hotspot. Usually carts full of fresh produce would be lining the streets, and government employees would be handing out boxes of food to citizens in exchange for ration cards. Beckham had been looking forward to cashing in some credits for a pumpkin as a surprise for Tasha and Jenny.
“Think we’ll hear anything about Fitz and Ghost?” Horn asked. He walked through the town square sucking on a cigarette and showing off his muscles and tattoos beneath rolled-up sleeves.
“Not sure, but I’m going to ask.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much, boss. Fitz knows what he’s doing. And the folks he’s got with him on Team Ghost are supposed to be some of the best.” He paused. “I mean, besides us. Obviously.”
“Shit, I can barely even walk a straight line today. That son of a bitch tased me twice.”
Horn chuckled. “I can’t believe you punched Durand in the face. Not saying he didn’t deserve it.”
Beckham grinned back, but even that was painful. His entire body ached from digging the day before and the shocks from the Tasers. He still hadn’t fully recovered from the toxins that had ravaged his body, either. The pain was worse than he let on, but he didn’t want to be put on permanent desk duty. That might kill him.
They continued through the deserted market quickly, passing stall after stall of corn, potatoes, squash. It was all there, and there was plenty to go around, but no one was buying today. Everyone was either at the embassy or at home with the doors locked.
“So you’re going to have a boy,” Horn said. He took a drag off his cigarette, then exhaled smoke through his nose. “I really thought you guys were going to have a girl.”
Beckham smiled. “I think Tasha and Jenny are disappointed. They better not gang up on him. Having two older sisters isn’t easy.”
Horn laughed again, but then his expression turned serious. “I just wish Sheila was here to see them grow up with your son.”
“I know, Big Horn. I do, too.”
“I also wish Sheila would have met Kate. I think they would have really liked each other.”
Beckham looked down at the ground, not sure what to say. Horn rummaged in his shirt pocket and pulled out a small envelope. He opened it and tipped out a ring set with a modest diamond.
“Had this all this time. Chow brought it back for me from Bragg. He couldn’t, you know, bring Sheila home, but this was the next best thing. I want you to have it. I think Sheila would have wanted that too.”
“Ah, man, I can’t accept…”
Horn pushed his hand toward Beckham. “You’re gonna marry Kate, and you’re gonna need a ring.”
Beckham picked up the band with trembling fingers. “Thanks, brother.”
“Love you, bro,” Horn said.
Beckham slipped the ring into his pocket with the picture of his mom, then reached out and gave his best friend a one-armed hug.
“I love you too, Big Horn.”
They pulled away and continued through the market, walking in silence for a few minutes, both of them lost in their memories. As they approached the end of the market, Horn said, “So, you got a name in mind for your son?”
“We’ve talked about it…” Beckham hesitated, not wanting to bring up more painful memories. But hell, it wasn’t like they were gonna forget the ones they had lost if they stopped talking about them.
“Javier Riley,” he said at last. “After her brother—and our brother.”
For a moment, Horn didn’t say anything. Then he clapped Beckham on the shoulder and said gruffly, “That’s a good name, boss. But why not Javier Alex?”
“We considered using his first name, but in the end decided it would be better to use Riley to help carry on his family name…”
A gust of wind bit into them, providing a momentary distraction. Horn shielded his precious cigarette with a hand and eyed a pair of Medical Corps officers walking by. The two soldiers smirked at them.
“Fuck you lookin’ at?” Horn asked.
One of the men hesitated, but the other said, “Come on, we’re going to be late.”
“That’s right,” Horn said after them. “Keep walkin’.” He took a long drag on his cigarette, then flicked it on the ground.
Horn stomped the cigarette. “We get no respect anymore. I’m really starting to hate this civilian bullshit.”
They continued toward the embassy building at the end of the street. Unlike the pre-fab houses FEMA had shipped to the island, the embassy was a beautiful structure with white columns out front and large windows. Workers on scaffolds were putting the finishing touches on the exterior of the building; those gorgeous windows were all being covered with metal bars.
Two Marines on the bottom steps directed Beckham and Horn into a line. Another set of Marines were checking IDs outside the large steel doors leading into the building. The line inched up the stairs. Beckham kept his hand on his aching back the entire way. His body was falling apart.
At the top step, he pulled his badge from his pocket and handed it over to the stony-faced Marine at the door. The man looked at it quickly, glanced at Beckham’s face, back at the ID, and finally to Beckham’s prosthetics. He was growing used to the judgmental stares now, but this was too much. Now he knew exactly how Fitz felt.
“You want to say something?” Beckham asked.
Instead of a condescending smirk, the Marine offered a warm smile. “I heard the stories about you, sir. Thank you for everything you did to save our country.” He handed the ID back to Beckham.
“You hear any stories about me?” Horn said. He pulled his ID card.
The Marine’s eyes roved to Horn. “Yeah, you’re that star college football player from Team Ghost, right?”
Horn slapped his knee and looked at Beckham. “Hell yeah! Finally some respect.”
The soldiers in the line behind them fidgeted, and the Marine jerked his chin after looking at Horn’s badge. “You’re both clear.”
Beckham and Horn strode into an auditorium packed with soldiers and civilians. Everyone inside had the battle-hardened look of people who had fought the Variants.
“Please take a seat,” came a voice from the front of the room.
Beckham grabbed a chair next to Horn as Mayor Antoine Walker, a tall African-American man with glasses and salt and pepper hair, took the stage. He stepped up to the podium, surrounded on all sides by officers of the Medical Corps. Army Lieutenant General Miles Rayburn stood right behind Walker. They were supposed to share contro
l of the safe zone territory, but there was no doubt who was really running the operation here. Walker was a puppet, a paper pusher. Rayburn, on the other hand, was the one who had ordered the civilians shot on the docks during the attack.
Beckham had a hard time stomaching that, but after the rage had dissipated, he could understand the decision. Rayburn had done what was necessary to save the island.
“Plum Island endured a horrible tragedy yesterday,” Walker said. “We now know this was an act of terrorism, and we also know it was not the only act of its kind.”
Beckham gave Horn a sidelong glance. “You hear anything about more attacks?”
Horn shook his head.
“I’ll let Lieutenant General Rayburn explain,” Walker said, stepping aside.
Rayburn straightened his cuffs and stepped up to the podium. He looked like a career officer with his slicked back hair, neatly trimmed mustache, and sharp gaze, but he had started off as a Delta Operator, just like Beckham. After sustaining an injury that left him unable to fight, Rayburn had moved into commanding a Ranger Unit and quickly climbed the ranks.
Looking out over the crowd, Rayburn said, “Today we received information that SZT 15 in Chicago has been compromised. Everyone there is infected with the Hemorrhage Virus, or dead.”
Raised voices instantly followed this statement. The room broke into chaos.
“How could that happen?” someone yelled.
“They’re all dead?” said another.
Rayburn held up his hands, but he couldn’t get the room under control. He pulled his side arm and pointed it to the ceiling. That got everyone’s attention.
“Calm down!” he shouted.
Mayor Walker crossed his arms nervously.
“I understand that you’re all scared and frustrated, but now is not the time for unrest. We think the same people are responsible for the attack on Plum Island. Their weapons aren’t bombs or bullets. They’re using the virus to commit biological terrorism.”
The Extinction Cycle (Book 6): Extinction Aftermath Page 15
