The Extinction Files Box Set

by A. G. Riddle

  “Good.”

  Yuri walked to the edge of the main deck and glanced up at the sun deck, where one of the Citium Security operatives was driving the boat, the other smoking a cigarette. The third man had gone down to the lower deck to one of the cabins to sleep.

  “I have another tracker you need to activate,” Yuri said quietly. “I want you to allocate all resources—and I mean every satellite we have or can get control of. We can’t lose this one.”

  “Understood.”

  Chapter 59

  Avery watched the screens in horror. The situation room at the Dallas–Fort Worth airport was in chaos. Since the internet had gone down and martial law had been declared, the unease gripping the nation had grown by the day. Food rationing had added to the fear, and there were now riots across the nation, protests, even bands of paramilitary groups organizing, gearing up to fight. Those who had survived the X1 pandemic were afraid the next disaster was already starting—and that they might not survive this one.

  The scenes made her realize how delicate the social fabric of the human race truly was. People’s confidence in government and police—the order of things—was the glue that held society together. And that glue was coming unstuck. Once it was gone, instilling that trust again would be very difficult. The damage being done might soon be irreparable.

  Her first call after landing at DFW had been to the Raleigh-Durham X1 ops center to check on her father. He was living in the camp at the Dean Dome in Chapel Hill, where David Ward had promised her that he would be taken care of, that his name was on the list of high-value individuals. Even without the crisis, he needed taking care of. Alzheimer's took more of him every time she visited.

  “Agent Price,” one of the operators said. “You’ve got a call.”

  She put on the headset. “Price.”

  Ward’s voice was muffled by background noise—an airplane, Avery thought. “We’ve got him.”

  “Hughes? How? When?”

  “He came through the tunnel a half hour ago. There’s something else. He remembers everything. Meeting me at the airport, asking me to build the tunnel. Everything.”

  Everything, Avery thought. Including them. She had told herself that she didn’t care if he remembered. But she did. Now that he had regained his memories, she could admit it to herself: she cared. A lot. And she wanted to see him. She wanted—needed—to sort out what they were. But there was a more pressing matter.

  “Rendition?”

  “He knows, or at least, he thinks he knows where he hid the key to finding it.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “In the air.”

  “Destination?”

  “We’ll get to that. But we need to make a stop first.” Ward hesitated. “We need to check him out.”

  “No—”

  “I promise you he won’t be harmed. Unless he makes us.”

  “I swear, if you hurt him or kill him, I’m done.”

  Silence on the line. Then: “Are you finished, Agent?”

  Avery sighed. “Where can we meet?”

  “What about Shaw? The older Shaw?”

  “We’ve reached the end of the road here. She’s waiting. I can tell.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “For whatever Desmond is going to do next. Or Yuri. I’m not sure.”

  A long pause, then Ward said, “So we either take her off the table or we keep her close.”

  “She still knows more than anyone else. But she has an agenda. I don’t trust her.”

  “It’s your call.”

  “Okay.”

  “There’s something else. I know how you feel about him, Avery. I need to know you can set that aside. There’s more at stake here.”

  Her tone turned combative. “What do you want me to say?”

  “If we’re standing in a room—him and me, hands raised, you on the other end of a Sig Sauer, who do you shoot?”

  Avery exhaled into the phone’s receiver. “I’d shoot him in the shoulder and kick you in the nuts.”

  Ward couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Probably punch you in the face for good measure,” she added. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come up. Now, I’m going to need that location.”

  “Oklahoma City. Hurry.”

  When Avery disconnected the call, she found Lin standing close by, staring directly at her. The older woman motioned to a nearby conference room.

  When they were alone inside, Lin closed the door and said, “Desmond?”

  “He’s escaped.”

  “Status?”

  “We believe he knows where Rendition is. He’s en route.”

  Lin stepped closer. “Good.”

  “Why do you need it? It’s part of what you’re doing too, isn’t it? Your answer to Yuri’s Looking Glass.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Miss Price, we don’t have—”

  “What don’t we have? Time?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Well, you’re going to make time. Because you have to. Because I’m the only way to get to Desmond. As of right now, I can have you confined to this facility.”

  “Don’t be dramatic.”

  “I’m not. I’m tired of being a pawn in your games. Yuri’s and Desmond’s too. I’m tired of not knowing what’s going on. You’re going to tell me what Rendition is and why you need it—or you’re not leaving this facility.”

  Lin broke eye contact. “Very well. Rendition was the last piece of the Looking Glass constructed. And arguably the most complex. It was Desmond’s project and life’s work, as you likely know, given how close the two of you became.” Lin studied Avery for a second, but the younger woman said nothing. “I want it for a very different reason than Yuri.”

  For the next ten minutes, Lin told Avery what the reason was, and what the Looking Glass was, and her alternative—the Rabbit Hole, she called it. It was driven by a particle accelerator about fifty miles from the Dallas area.

  “That’s where you sent the samples—and Peyton. To the accelerator?”

  “Correct.”

  “When you say we need to rendezvous with Desmond, you mean…”

  “You and I, Miss Price.”

  “Not Nigel, or Adams, or Rodriguez.”

  Lin nodded.

  “Because one of them let Yuri loose,” Avery said. “Or one of us. Or Peyton.”

  “It’s only logical to leave them here,” Lin said. “You and I will go.”

  Almost against her will, Avery’s imagination took over. She saw herself descending the plane’s staircase, Desmond waiting on the tarmac. It would be so different from their reunion on the Kentaro Maru. And with Yuri still at large, looming, no doubt searching for Desmond, a final conflict was likely. It could be her last chance to see him.

  Peyton’s last opportunity, too.

  Avery considered that. Peyton had helped save Avery’s life on the Isle of Citium. And despite their past disagreements, Peyton had always been straight with her. The woman deserved to see Desmond again, especially if it was her last chance, just like Avery’s. Avery owed that to her—and to Desmond, no matter which one of them he chose.

  “We’re taking Peyton with us.”

  “No—”

  “She comes along or you don’t. Decide.”

  Chapter 60

  Desmond awoke less sore and groggy than before. The plane was dropping. Through the oval windows he saw a line of steel and glass buildings: dark tombstones in an urban graveyard. Desert beyond. Not Oklahoma City. He forced himself to move, up, off the couch, through the cabin and to the cockpit door, which was closed.

  He threw it open and found David Ward at the controls, steering the small craft toward two rows of glowing lights.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Landing. Shut up.”

  “This isn’t Oklahoma.”

  “Really? We’ll have to fire the navigator.”

  Desmond slipped into the co-pilot seat. “I didn’t
realize you were so funny.”

  Through the windshield, Desmond saw a combination of things that made no sense to him: a pyramid, a pirate ship, and a volcano. It was like an escaped mental patient had taken all the things that fascinated him and put them on one street.

  He realized a second later where he was: Vegas. But it was dark, the neon jungle deprived of power.

  A few minutes later, the plane’s wheels caught traction on the runway and the aircraft shuddered.

  Ward unlatched his buckle.

  Desmond followed suit. “What’s the plan?”

  “Follow me.” Ward got up and walked back to the cabin.

  “I’d rather not.”

  “You’re a real pain, Hughes, you know that?”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “I’ll tell you what I know. I know I’m not a super genius like you and your brother. I’m just a lawyer who got pissed that the low-level criminals always got locked up and the super bad guy masterminds—like you—always got away with it. I know I’m in over my head. All of us are. We just work here—for the people of the United States. But I also know that even I would be smart enough to plan for the possibility that you might escape.”

  “A tracking device.”

  “Exactly.”

  Desmond got up. “Good call, Agent.”

  A convoy of SUVs was waiting on the tarmac, men and women fanned out around them, wearing suits and military uniforms.

  They loaded up and raced through the city. From the back seat, Desmond gazed out the windows in shock. The place was a neon graveyard, an urban theme park gone dark and silent. Trash littered the street. Papers blew in the wind like tumbleweeds. It was his first glimpse of the post–X1 pandemic world.

  “Where is everyone?”

  Ward didn’t make eye contact. “Hunkered down at home, in the shelters, some dead. Everybody’s waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “Whatever comes next. Some sign that the world is safe again. Or what the next crisis is.”

  At Sunrise Hospital, they ushered Desmond into a room with no windows and loaded him onto a table that slid into a large machine.

  The doctors and technicians came in, Ward behind them. An older doctor spoke for the group. He was slender and bald, with an impeccable tan and an unlined face. “There are two implants.” He held up a scan showing a bone and a white oblong object. “The larger is in your upper thigh, close to your femur, likely inserted—”

  “Can you remove it?”

  The doctor was annoyed at being interrupted. “We can.”

  “Do it.”

  The doctor turned to Ward. “We’ll need to put him under general anesthesia—”

  “No.” Desmond sat up on the table. “I’ve been under for days. I need a clear head.”

  “Mr. Hughes, we’ll be making a small incision through the adductor magnus—”

  “I don’t care. Use a local anesthetic.”

  “It will be painful. And we need you to be still—movement could be deadly. There’s an important artery close by—”

  “Let’s get on with it.” A thought occurred to Desmond. “You said there were two implants.”

  The doctor pulled out another scan, this one of a foot. “I believe we were meant to find the one in your thigh. It’s in plain sight, and as I said, quite large. This one is far smaller and presents on an X-ray as a bone spur, which are somewhat common in the feet.”

  That was smart, something Conner would do. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  “Mr. Hughes, the pain—”

  “I can handle. Strap me down. Do whatever you have to. Just don’t sedate me.”

  They led him to an OR with two beds, like what might be used for a transplant. The doctors worked quickly, taking the implant in the foot first. Desmond grimaced and Ward looked on impassively. They removed the small device, cleaned it, and showed it to Desmond. It was white on the outside, the color of bone.

  A young man with a buzz cut, wearing a blue hospital gown and nothing else, walked through the swinging doors.

  Ward stood. “On the table, Corporal.”

  The young man lay down on the second table and looked up at the overhead lights. A second team of doctors numbed his foot, made an incision, and began inserting the implant.

  Desmond’s doctors went slower for the larger implant. As promised, it hurt—a lot. Tears rolled down Desmond’s face as they pulled out the oblong metal pill, but he didn’t make a sound. He knew they were done when he heard the device hit a metal pan with a clink. The doctor nodded to him, and a younger doctor took his place to close the incision.

  To Ward, the doctor said, “We will be placing the corporal under general anesthesia and beginning the operation as soon as you all clear the room.”

  “Understood.”

  When the incision was sealed and the bandage was firmly in place, Desmond rolled off the table. He grunted, the tender muscles protesting. Before limping out of the OR, he paused to look at the corporal lying on the table. Desmond felt like he should say something, but couldn’t find the words. So he just nodded to the man, a silent acknowledgment of his bravery.

  A new plane was waiting on the tarmac—a larger one, with Air Force insignia and two dozen camo-clad soldiers wearing body armor in the belly. They had Delta Force patches on their shoulders.

  They assembled in a small briefing room behind the cockpit. An Army lieutenant colonel stood at the head of the table, a major and a master sergeant at his side.

  “Mr. Hughes, I’m Lieutenant Colonel Nathan Andrews. Those are my men out there. And I need to know what we’re walking into.”

  Desmond told them, and the colonel shook his head in disbelief.

  “Sir,” Desmond continued, “I suspect your men will see their share of action on this mission. But it won’t be on the next stop. I’m fairly certain of that.”

  They landed at Will Rogers World Airport in Oklahoma City, where more troops were waiting. And enough land combat vehicles to fight a war.

  Desmond walked down the plane’s ramp, Ward at his side. The sun was rising, the late December, early morning air cool on his skin. A faint puff of white fog left his mouth as he made his way toward the waiting SUVs.

  The troops parted as he approached.

  “There’s somebody who wants to see you,” Ward said.

  Desmond assumed it was another meeting about the approach to the site. He was wrong.

  A door opened on a vehicle at the head of the convoy. Desmond stopped in his tracks.

  Avery stood on the tarmac, her blue eyes shining in the faint light of dawn. She wore military fatigues with no service branch or rank insignia, body armor over her torso and legs, and a rifle muzzle protruded at an angle from her back, like a sword sheathed on a medieval knight.

  She didn’t smile. She studied him, waiting for his reaction, her face a mask, seemingly like a dam about to break. Seeing her here wasn’t like before—when they had met on the Kentaro Maru. Then she was just a woman he didn’t know.

  He knew her now, deep down inside, even the parts of her she hid from the world. She was brave and capable and strong in a way very few are. And more, she was a woman he had once loved. Still loved.

  He remembered everything about her now—the hung-over girl he had carried up those stairs and into her apartment. Someone he had been happy with. His face must have revealed his recognition, because she blinked, exhaled, and smiled—relieved, happy. Her shoulders sagged as if the tension were flowing out of her.

  He walked toward her, eyes locked, no idea what he was going to do. Hug her? Shake hands? Or just talk. Or kiss her? The romantic options would likely draw whistles and catcalls from the troops around them. The Avery he knew wouldn’t care. What he didn’t know was how she felt about him.

  And there was Peyton to think about.

  As soon as the thought came into his mind, the rear doors opened on a Suburban behind Avery, and two women stepped out. They were mirrors of each other, one older. Peyton on
the right, Lin on the left.

  Unlike Avery, Peyton’s face wasn’t a mask. She smiled at Desmond, and he saw moisture fill her eyes. He felt his own eyes cloud, and he squinted, trying to hold it back. A month ago, in the mess hall on the Boxer, they had made a promise to each other: that if they lived, they would start over—together. He was so certain then about what he wanted. He wasn’t now. It was as if he had rediscovered Avery, and she was someone he cared about too.

  In the first light of morning, in the cruel land where he had grown up, the two women stood on opposite sides, like bookends, which he found fitting: Peyton was the anchor in his life before the Citium, Avery his joy and lifeline after. If he stood there for a thousand years he could never have chosen which woman to walk to first. They were in different categories, like forces of nature with no analog or comparison, both drawing him to them.

  Fittingly, Lin Shaw walked between the two women. She had always been in the center of it all—she alone was the tie that bound all of them: Peyton, Desmond, Avery, and Yuri. And perhaps only she knew how it all would end.

  The older woman seemed to sense the standoff. She walked to Desmond, gripped his shoulders, and smiled.

  “It’s good to see you, Desmond.”

  He nodded. “You too. I took your advice.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “I did something no one would expect.”

  “That you did.”

  Avery and Peyton converged at the same time. Without thinking Desmond, held his arms out to both of them. As the two women reached him, Lin let her hands slip off his shoulders and stepped back, allowing Peyton and Avery to fall into the hug. Desmond squeezed tight, felt their arms reach around his back. They met, overlapping at first and then sliding next to each other.

  Lin studied him for reactions, perhaps a clue about whom he would choose.

  “Let’s catch up en route,” Ward said.

  Chapter 61

  The convoy barreled through the deserted streets. First on I-240 East, then south on I-35. Deserted cars sat on the shoulder, some pushed into the guardrail where the X1 troops had cleared a path.