Extinction Shadow

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “Something isn’t right,” shouted one of the pilots. “I don’t see a single Variant on the streets below.”

  Fitz kept his focus on Lincoln.

  Tonight’s mission was supposed to have killed the queen bee of this Variant hive, disrupting the whole colony and causing them to scatter. But that wasn’t happening, and he suddenly couldn’t shake the feeling that all Team Ghost had done was disturb the nest.

  “Fitz,” Rico said.

  He looked up to see her eyes glazing. She had a finger against Lincoln’s neck.

  “I don’t feel a pulse,” she said.

  — 24 —

  “How far do these damn things go?” Chase mumbled, gesturing down the blackness of the web-covered tunnel.

  “Let’s rest a few minutes,” Fischer said.

  The team halted, taking in water and the protein bars from their packs. Fischer had experienced fighters with him, from his personal security team and the hired trackers to Sergeant Sharp. Yet these tunnels still sent shivers through his flesh.

  He used the stolen moments to study the webbing in the green hue of his night vision goggles. Two horns protruded out of the mass. He stepped closer to the wall and examined what was left of one of his bulls. Red vines webbed across the rest of the severed head, pushing out from its empty orbital cavities and roping out of the beast’s nostrils.

  “Son of a bitch,” he whispered.

  You have to get out of here, whispered a voice.

  Fischer didn’t turn to look for the source. No one else reacted.

  This voice wasn’t real. It was the same voice he kept hearing as they advanced deeper into the humid darkness. A voice he hadn’t heard since before the Great War of Extinction.

  The voice of his dead wife.

  He ignored it. This place was making him crazy, and the exhaustion didn’t help.

  Fischer pulled down the bandana to take a breath of sultry air. He stifled a gag at the unobstructed odor. Then he forced down a gulp of water. Sweat dripped down his forehead, carrying with it a mix of black grime and dirt. He used the back of his hand to wipe it away.

  They had been searching the tunnels for hours, plunging deeper and deeper into the vast network that stretched beneath his oil fields. He hadn’t anticipated these Variant-made cavern systems to be so massive. And all this time they had spent down here, they still hadn’t spotted an Alpha or any other Variant for that matter.

  The only creatures they had discovered were more of his poor livestock massacred and dismembered by the ravenous beasts.

  President Ringgold’s administration had left him, his men, and his animals to die out here at the hands of the hordes. When he got back to his ranch, he was going to call up President Ringgold and tell her she had lost more than his vote.

  If you get out of here.

  That damn voice again.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Galinsky said quietly.

  “Hey, look at that,” Chase said pointing up at a small hole at the top of the tunnel ahead, looking barely large enough for a Variant to slip through.

  The hole let in a beam of waning sunlight. Seemed like the sun was setting.

  He shuddered at the thought of being down here at night.

  “Sir, we need to move,” Tran whispered.

  Fischer nodded and set off with the team.

  Welling took point with Galinsky right behind him. The two hired trackers moved slowly down the tunnel, their rifles up. Tran and Chase kept on Fischer’s flanks while Sergeant Sharp held rearguard. The rest of the men, led by the sergeant’s surviving two soldiers, had veered off a few hours earlier to search another network of underground passages.

  Their reports were no more helpful than what Fischer had seen—dead animals and zero signs of the Alphas.

  The group pushed on for another ten minutes, not stopping until Sharp’s radio crackled. He turned down the volume and then whispered a response.

  “The other team find something?” Fischer asked in a whisper.

  Sharp looked up and shook his head. “I think it’s command, but I can’t make out the transmission.”

  They pushed forward, ignoring the radio. Fischer had a feeling it was just more bad news from the outside. The only thing that mattered now was what was happening at Fischer Fields, not where the current administration and brass was watching safely from their bunkers and warships.

  He was really starting to hate President Ringgold and all of the elites back east. She had spent the first few months of the war underground in a bunker like he had. And here they were again, both underground.

  But this time the circumstances were far different. Only one of them was putting their life on the line to kill the Variants. Ringgold was safely protected in a bunker and surrounded by men and women armed to the teeth with all the country had at its disposal. Fischer was risking his rear to wipe out the beasts ravaging his fields.

  Galinsky halted and gestured for Sharp. The sergeant squeezed past Fischer and his two guards. Being near the end of the line gave him the creeps.

  The tunnels weren’t just dark and hot—they stank of rotting flesh that his bandana couldn’t mask. On top of that, the fatigue was starting to get to him, and hearing the voice of his dead wife wasn’t helping matters.

  You have to get out of here, she repeated.

  Another voice sounded, but this one was real.

  Sharp spoke quietly to Galinsky and Welling before making his way back to Fischer and his guards.

  “Well?” Tran asked.

  “There’s some sort of chamber ahead, and they think they saw one of my men,” Sharp reported. “There are two confirmed Variants.”

  “Alphas?” Fischer asked.

  “Maybe. Galinsky is going to go check it out,” Sharp said. “I’m going with. You guys stay here with Welling.”

  Fischer thought about arguing but decided to let the best hunters do the hunting. Especially if he was going crazy. The smartest man knew his limits, and the strongest wasn’t afraid to admit them.

  He brought up his rifle and waited while the men crept down the passage toward an intersection. Galinsky turned around the corner, and Sharp followed at a hunch. They vanished around the bend.

  “I don’t like this,” Tran said quietly.

  Chase also seemed nervous. He kept turning around to check the tunnel behind them. When he twisted back, Chase staggered slightly.

  Looks like I’m not the only one exhausted, Fischer thought.

  “Fuck, I need fresh air,” Chase muttered.

  “Hopefully we’ll be out of here soon,” Tran said.

  Movement flashed at the end of the passage. Fischer raised his rifle but quickly lowered the barrel when he realized it was Sharp and Galinsky dragging an injured soldier.

  As Fischer hurried over to help, he could tell right away the man was barely hanging on. Gashes crossed his face, oozing pus. His left leg was definitely broken, a bone protruding from his pants.

  “I’ve got to get him topside,” Sharp said. “I’ll use that passage a few turns back, but I’m going to need some help.”

  Fischer looked at Chase. “You go with Sergeant Sharp.”

  Chase hesitated at first. “No, sir…”

  “You need some fresh air, son,” Fischer said.

  “Yeah, but so do you, sir.”

  “I’m good.” Fischer patted Chase on the shoulder and then nodded at Sharp.

  The team split up again. Fischer and Tran followed the two trackers around the next corner where they had cut the soldier from the webbing.

  Leave, came his wife’s voice. Leave now!

  Fischer ignored her, salty sweat stinging his eyes. The chamber came into view around the bend. The wide bowl was covered in red webbing and strung up animals. A Variant across the open space chewed on what looked like a…

  Oh hell no, Fischer thought.

  There wasn’t much left of the carcass, but he could tell it had been one of his calves. The beast pulled a string of flesh off a leg.


  Another creature buried its face into the open belly of the dead animal, pulling out intestines like spaghetti and slurping them through its gruesome lips. It bent over for another bite, exposing a back of hardened flesh.

  Both the Variants were barely bigger than the dead calf.

  Holy shit, those are children, Fischer realized.

  He hadn’t seen juveniles in years.

  Welling raised a suppressed rifle, but Fischer put his hand on the barrel.

  “I’ve got this one,” Fischer whispered. He crept toward the entrance to the chamber. Just shy of the opening, he shouldered the rifle and aimed for the back of one of the heads. Past experience had taught him juvenile Variant armor was thick, but it wouldn’t stop a bullet from this range.

  He pulled the trigger and fired a shot into the head of the beast chewing on the leg. The whistle sounded, followed by an echoing from the crack of a bullet through skull. He took out the second beast with another burst to the head.

  It slumped onto the carcass with a wet slap.

  Fischer looked for other targets, and seeing none, he moved into the chamber to look at the dead Variants with grim satisfaction. Welling followed close behind.

  The satisfaction was short lived.

  An explosion of dirt came from the earthen walls behind him. Bursting from the webbing came a hulking figure with taloned claws the length of buck knives. This wasn’t an Alpha like Fischer had seen before.

  The ape-like face had huge nostrils and large, bat-like ears hanging from the side of its pointed features.

  Fischer swung his rifle toward the beast as it lunged across the chamber and grabbed Welling by an arm. It pulled the limb from the socket. Welling screeched in agony. Then the monster ripped his arm clean off and threw it at Galinsky who was already firing at the bastard.

  The shots boomed in the enclosed space, rounds punching into the monster’s barreled chest. Fischer switched to automatic and opened fire. He had no time for shooting discipline with this monstrosity rampaging around the tunnel.

  Blood squirted out of Welling’s arm socket as he fell to his knees. He looked at Fischer just as the Alpha grabbed his head and popped it off like a cork. A geyser of blood splattered the dirt ceiling.

  The whole chamber began to vibrate. Dirt rained from the ceiling.

  Another Alpha bounded through the tunnel they had used to enter the space. Tran turned to fire, scoring a blast directly into its face. A hunk of the Alpha’s pointed jaw blew off in a spray of red mist. The twisted remains of the jawbone hung off by a few strands of gristle.

  The beast smacked him in the chest, sending Tran tumbling past Fischer. His rifle flew in the opposite direction.

  The other Alpha that had killed Welling was on the ground now, bleeding out from multiple rounds while Galinsky approached, rifle blazing.

  “You like that, motherfucker!?” he yelled.

  It groaned and swiped at him from the dirt, bullets tearing through its flesh.

  Fischer retreated toward Tran, still firing at the creature missing half a jaw. Several hits to the chest sent it staggering.

  The creature on the ground swiped again at Galinsky’s boots while he fired several bursts into the flaps of flesh over its back. The creature finally went limp, letting out a long moan.

  Fischer bent down to Tran.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Tran nodded, and Fischer helped him to his feet. He fired a series of bursts to keep the beast across the chamber at bay. It gripped the loose flap of jaw on its face and hunched down, screeching so loud Fischer winced in pain.

  Drawing his pistol, Tran fired.

  Fischer grabbed a fresh magazine from his vest and slammed it home.

  Galinsky nudged the other beast in the head with his barrel while Fischer aimed at the deformed face of the one across the chamber. He emptied most of the magazine into the Alpha by holding the trigger down. The hail of gunfire sent it stumbling into a wall of webbing.

  A human scream sounded in between the gunshots.

  You have to get out of here! came the voice of his wife.

  Not until I kill these bastards, he thought.

  The second Alpha that Galinsky had thought was dead bit off his leg under the knee. He crashed to the ground, screaming in pain and gripping the gushing wound.

  The monster grabbed his other leg as he turned and tried to crawl away. It yanked him backward and crunched down on his ankle with a maw-full of jagged teeth.

  Another guttural scream sounded from the tracker. Fischer turned his aim on the creature but couldn’t get a shot. With a sickening snap, the tracker managed to jam his buck knife into the skull of the monster. The monster collapsed again, blood pouring from its twitching jaw.

  Fischer finished off his magazine into the beast against the wall and then drew his .357. He strode across the chamber toward the Alpha. Blood drooled from dozens of wounds, but it was still alive, and managed to reach out. He fired a bullet through the palm.

  The hand fell away, and he fired shots into the cavities where a normal creature’s eyes would be.

  That did the trick.

  The monster thumped to the dirt. He put another bullet into the skull, blowing a hole in one of the bat-like ears to be sure and then hurried over to Galinsky.

  By the time he got there, the tracker was dead, a lake of blood pooling around him and the Alpha. Despite having a knife in its skull, the creature’s back rapidly rose and fell in shallow breaths, its limbs shaking.

  Tran limped over and aimed his pistol. He and Fischer fired their remaining bullets into the Alpha’s ugly face.

  Fischer lowered the smoking barrel of the Monster Killer. His stomach rolled at the gory sight of the dismembered bodies of the men he had hired to find these beasts. If they had families, he would find them and give them the money he owed them for today’s job.

  “I’m sorry,” Fischer said, bending down. He closed Galinsky’s eyes and then plucked the extra magazines from his torn vest.

  Tran changed the magazine in his pistol and limped over to his dropped rifle.

  “You good?” Fischer asked.

  Tran winced, but nodded.

  They set off across the chamber and out into the passage they had entered through. The webbing on the walls seemed to pulsate the farther they walked. Halfway back to the exit Sharp had taken to get topside, the ground and walls trembled again.

  “Another Alpha?” Tran said.

  This felt different. Fischer shook his head. It reminded him of something from when he was a boy and, for a second, he struggled to put his finger on it. The trembling grew worse.

  Then realization hit him like a cold rain. When he was a boy, he’d been out on the ranch far past sunset. The cattle had been off in the distance, and he’d fallen asleep, passed out under the stars.

  But the ground had shaken him awake. The cattle had been in a panic, running straight toward him. Spooked by a group of coyotes. Thousands of hooves slamming against the ground rolled over him like never ending thunder.

  “Stampede!” he bellowed. “Run!”

  They hurried toward the dying rays of sunlight streaming in through the opening in the tunnel. When they got there the rumbling ground grew into a full-on quake. Hunks of dirt broke from the ceiling, and webbing whipped loose from the walls. The entire tunnel system was coming apart.

  Fischer helped Tran climb up into the opening and pushed him out. As soon as his boots were up, Fischer pushed his night vision goggles away from his eyes, grabbed the webbing, and started climbing.

  He froze halfway up when something exploded into his periphery. From both sides of the tunnel, Variants flooded like a tidal wave of white flesh.

  “Good Lord in Heaven,” he said.

  Fischer kicked out of the hole and onto a weed-covered field. Only a sliver of blood-red sun peaked over the horizon.

  He heard what sounded like a helicopter over the screams of the Variants.

  “Over here!”

>   Fischer searched for the voice. Sergeant Sharp and Chase were waving next to the body of the injured soldier near a fort of trees.

  Tran limped toward the men and Fischer followed. He looked over his shoulder as the chopping sound grew louder. A trio of helicopters descended toward their position, rotor wash bending dried grass and pushing up billowing clouds of dust. Instead of the normal Allied States insignia painted on the choppers, Fischer spotted blue circles with Orca Whales on them.

  He wondered for a moment if they were real or if this was a figment of his imagination like his wife’s voice.

  Fischer blinked hard several times, but the birds were still there. He slowed as he approached Sharp who had run over, panting.

  “Where are Galinsky and Welling?”

  Fischer shook his head.

  “What the hell happened?” Chase asked.

  “The Alphas…,” Tran began.

  “Are dead,” Fischer added. He looked toward the choppers.

  Fischer and his team hadn’t been the only ones to notice the choppers’ entrance. Variants began to pop out of holes around the field.

  “Form a line!” Sharp yelled.

  The men raised their rifles to hold their ground. But instead of running toward them, the creatures scattered, spreading out like a swarm of locusts. That didn’t make a hell of a lot of sense to Fischer, but he wouldn’t question their luck if they escaped tonight.

  “So President Ringgold finally sent us help. I guess it’s better late than never.”

  “Those aren’t Ringgold’s soldiers!” Sharp yelled over the noise.

  Two of the birds curved away, the mounted machine guns blazing. The third chopper continued forward and lowered toward Fischer and his men.

  The soldiers that jumped out wore blue armbands with the same Orca insignia painted on the side of the birds.

  “That radio transmission I got below ground was from a platoon under the command of General Cornelius!” Sharp yelled over the noise. “These are his troops!”

  Fischer watched the birds spewing rounds over his fields, slaughtering the monsters before they could escape. Now this was what his tax dollars and donations were supposed to be used for. He wanted to revel in the sight, but could hardly find anything worth gloating about now.