The Tide: Salvage

by Melchiorri, Anthony J

  The Goliath continued to lumber forward. It didn’t give the small Skull so much as a glance but simply swung one huge fist. The creature flew through the air. Its cartwheeling corpse smashed against the side of a brick-walled building. Limbs shattered, and its torso split with the impact. It fell and hit the parking lot with a sickening thud, bleeding out slowly.

  Shepherd had no sympathy for the twisted creature that had once been a man—and judging by its fatigues, a former soldier. The soul that had once inhabited that body was gone, and Shepherd felt only grim determination to wipe out every last one of the monsters.

  He unloaded an entire magazine on the Goliath. Bullets sparked and ricocheted against its armor. Wesson and Bard joined in, unleashing salvo after salvo. A round caught the bare flesh between its chin and neck. Blood sprayed from the wound. The monster’s head kicked back, and for a moment, it faltered, its eyes widening as if suddenly aware of its own mortality.

  But just as quickly, the monster recovered and continued its charge.

  Shepherd started to back away while maintaining his aim. “Go for the neck!”

  The two privates adjusted their aim to match Shepherd’s. More rounds went wide around the small target. They pinged uselessly against the Goliath’s thick armor. Others whistled through the night. But enough hit home, plunging into the beast’s fleshy neck, to ignite a rush of blood. The hot liquid poured over the front of the monster’s mutated ribcage.

  Shepherd’s heart hammered. The two privates held their positions despite the fear playing across their faces. They continued to fire on the encroaching behemoth. Wesson’s arms trembled, but he maintained his aim.

  All around, screams rent the air. Some human, some monstrous. Voices barked over the radio. In Shepherd’s peripheral, he could make out muzzle flashes and flames in the midst of the carnage the other three Goliaths were wreaking across the base. Undulating waves of Skulls rushed in around the giant beasts.

  Shepherd wanted to stop them, wanted to help the others dying under those monsters’ claws.

  But in order to do that, he needed to take this one down first.

  “Die, asshole!” Bard yelled.

  “Changing mags!” Wesson said.

  Shepherd unleashed another barrage on the Goliath. His slide locked back. Empty. “Changing!”

  The monster’s footsteps shook the ground. Its tusked mouth opened, and it bellowed, almost close enough now for them to smell its acrid breath. Blood drizzled from the corners of its lips. It was hurt, maybe even fatally injured. Or maybe that was just Shepherd’s deceptive optimism.

  The monster had certainly slowed. But it wasn’t stopping.

  “Fall back!” Shepherd yelled. Bard and Wesson followed. They ran from their position behind a jeep toward a four-story office building just a few blocks away from the gymnasium-turned-shelter. “Stop him before he gets to the civilians!”

  “Yes, sir!” Bard said. He fired a quick three-round burst to hold the Goliath’s attention.

  Shepherd’s muscles burned as he ran. The beast’s quaking footsteps kept the adrenaline flowing through him, and he powered on until they reached the office building. “Inside! We’ll slow him down!”

  He slammed the stock of his rifle against the door handle. It clipped off. Leading with his shoulder, he pushed open the door and waved the two privates in. Their boots thumped against the tiled floor. They sprinted past piles of discarded papers and broken computers. Glass shards sparkled dangerously next to puddles of dried blood. There was a good reason this building hadn’t been inhabited again.

  An enormous rumble shook the entire building. Dust poured between ceiling tiles, showering the three men. Shepherd spun on his heels and then knelt behind a knocked-over desk. The furniture wouldn’t provide much protection against the Goliath, but he couldn’t help old habits.

  Again, the building shook as the Goliath rammed the doorframe. Its beady eyes locked on Shepherd and his men. The beast let out a loud bellow of frustration. Its voice echoed madly in the narrow corridor. Shepherd was forced to cover his ears at the height of the monster’s wail.

  The Goliath stopped and disappeared for a moment. A sudden grating crash followed as the Goliath threw itself at the door. It pushed into the entrance, but its shoulders were too large. The hooked, crooked bones caught in the door, and it thrashed about wildly, trying to free itself. Shepherd shouldered his rifle, took aim at the Goliath’s head, and fired a salvo. The two privates quickly joined in.

  The monster had finally given them an easier target. Bullets ripped into the flesh under its neck. Shepherd and his men were rewarded with a river of blood. The Goliath’s head reared back once more, but no roar came out. Instead, red bubbles burst from its throat with a series of rattling gasps and stained its bony tusks. The Goliath shuddered before falling forward.

  “We fucking did it!” Wesson yelled.

  A wide grin formed across Bard’s face. “Goddammit, we did it, brother!”

  Shepherd wanted to celebrate with his men, but he knew there was no time. He unclipped his radio from his belt and held it to his mouth. “Command, Shepherd here. Sitrep?”

  “Breach on south gate,” Lieutenant Ramos reported. “South guard is down. No one reporting in. Breach on east gate. They’re scattered and retreating. Command is still secure.”

  “Roger. Skulls are going to be everywhere. I want anyone left on north guard to get to the civilian shelter. Anyone left on west watches command. Abandon all other posts.”

  “What about the labs?” the lieutenant asked, her voice breaking.

  “We don’t have the manpower to protect them.” Shepherd’s thoughts flitted briefly to Dr. Winters and the floating labs aboard the Huntress. He could only pray they could carry on the scientific mission without their support. “Evacuate and get them to command.”

  “And you, sir?”

  “I’ll find my way back. If those fuckers in the 82nd reopen comms with us, tell them to get their asses in the fight.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  “Good. Over.” He turned to the two privates. “Ready and reloaded?”

  Bard nodded, and Wesson performed a tactical reload. Frantic chatter still crackled over Shepherd’s radio. Another low blast echoed somewhere over the base. Machine gun and rifle fire droned on, and the Skulls’ shrieks continued.

  “We headed back to command, sir?” Wesson asked.

  Shepherd shook his head, staring at the dead Goliath blocking the front entrance. “No, we’re going back to the tarmac. Jackson’s still in one of those Black Hawks.”

  “Sir, may I speak freely?” Wesson asked.

  “Spit it out, Private.”

  “I’m all for rescuing Jackson, but we need to get you back to command. It’s not safe out here. Jackson might be dead.”

  “He might be,” Shepherd conceded. “But we’re the closest to the tarmac.” He adjusted his grip on his borrowed M16 and stepped over a spilled garbage can. “You saw how hard it was to bring that thing down. We need something more effective than small arms fire.”

  Bard shrugged. “Sir, we don’t have anything else on base to deal with those fuckers.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Private,” Shepherd said, marching down another hall toward an exit door that wasn’t clogged by a dead behemoth. “The 82nd brought in a batch of AT4s, and we’re going to retrieve ‘em.”

  “Rocket launchers?” Wesson asked, following Shepherd.

  “Right. Those Skulls aren’t going to know what hit ‘em.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Bard said.

  They were only a few yards away from the exit. Shepherd steeled himself for the hell they’d find outside. He could practically feel the tension. The metal emergency exit door shook. Shepherd stopped, training his rifle on the door. The privates followed suit.

  “Maybe someone’s trying to get in?” Wesson offered.

  The sound of nails scratching against metal screeched from the door. An inhuman howl echoed
under it. A bevy of other voices picked up in response, their nightmarish chorus slipping in through the windows of the office building. Glass shattered in one of the rooms off the hall. The distinct staccato of claws clicking against the tiled floor followed.

  “On me!” Shepherd yelled. A Skull, hunched over, its claws dripping with blood, scuttled into the hall from one of the offices. Its nose twitched, and its head swiveled. Bard let loose three shots. Gore sprayed from the exit wound in the creature’s head.

  More claws clicked and scraped. Glass crunched, and howls echoed out. The unmistakable rattle of bone plates sounded after. Three Skulls cornered around an intersection. One dwarfed the other two. Not because it was a Goliath, but because the other Skulls stood less than five feet tall. Another four Skulls scrambled after the initial trio.

  Gunfire filled the hall. Sweat trickled across Shepherd’s forehead, and his muscles tightened. He maintained laser focus on the monsters before him, but his pulse thumped in his eardrums. Shepherd, Bard, and Wesson sprayed bullets into the growing mass of Skulls. More glass broke, more claws echoed in the building. More howls sounded. The emergency exit door burst open, and another half dozen Skulls barreled into the hall.

  The Skulls came at them from both sides, crashing against each other and the walls in their unfettered bloodlust. Flashes of gunfire exploded from the soldiers’ muzzles, bringing down Skull after Skull. But it wouldn’t be enough. The creatures were gaining ground at the expense of their fallen brethren. Shepherd knew they couldn’t stay here. The voices spewing forth from his radio sounded more panicked than ever, adding to the growing cacophony.

  He couldn’t hold out here; his men couldn’t hold out elsewhere.

  Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the end of Fort Detrick.

  -10-

  Dom helped Glenn boot the next batch of computers. They’d already searched seven of the labs on their list and made it through two floors. At least two dozen Skulls had fallen to their suppressed, armor-piercing gunfire. The Hunters’ packs were overloaded with samples, and hordes of previously unavailable research had been sent back to the Huntress with their sat links. Divya had indeed been a boon to their mission. She’d pointed them right to unassuming samples that might prove critical to their research.

  They finished loading their findings from yet another lab. Before they reentered the hall en route to their next stop, Dom motioned for the team to pause.

  “Bravo, Alpha here. Anything new?” Dom asked.

  “Nothing,” Renee said. “Navid’s passed out again, but Meredith thinks he’s stable. Just exhausted to the point of delirium. He’ll need medical attention back on the ship, but he said something about being a researcher at Mass Gen. He might be able to help more than we thought.”

  “Roger. I know the guy needs his rest, but see if he can point us to anything we may have overlooked.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  “All right, let’s move out!” Dom nudged open the lab’s door. The team filed out after him into the hallway.

  They prowled, careful not to step on the shattered remnants of glass beakers and flasks. A tangle of IV tubes rested against one wall like a plastic tumbleweed. They made it to a T-intersection, and Dom glanced at the map on his watch. He gestured to Miguel to guard the left hall while he prepared to take the right. Counting down with his fingers, Dom gave the signal to go, and Miguel twisted around the corner. Dom leaned around his.

  “Clear,” Miguel said in a low voice.

  “Two contacts,” Dom said. The Skulls scratched at a door about twenty yards down the hall. Their movements seemed lethargic, as if they’d been at the task for days. The gouges in the door and surrounding doorframe seemed to support the hypothesis. He caught them in his sights and dispatched them with two quick shots. Neither let out so much as a whimper when they slumped to the floor.

  “Move out,” Dom said. “Miguel, on point.”

  Miguel led the group the rest of the way down the littered hallway. He stopped at the door the Skulls had been trying to pry into. “This is it.”

  “Then let’s do it.”

  Well-practiced by now, Miguel knocked the locked handle loose. Jenna and Terrence stood on the other side of the entrance, their rifles at the ready. Like a protective shadow, Glenn waited beside Divya.

  Miguel threw his shoulder into the door. This time, it didn’t break open freely. He furrowed his brow and rammed it again. “Something’s in the way.” He backed up, giving himself room to gain momentum, and ran at the door. There was a loud crash, and he tumbled in. Terrence and Jenna rushed through to cover Miguel.

  Dom followed, playing his muzzle across the room. He stepped over a fallen shelf, the culprit behind the crash and the stubborn door. Books littered the floor. Like many of the labs they’d infiltrated, black lab benches jutted out from the walls. Several large glass panels shielded chemical fume hoods, and glassware rested across the benches and within the hoods. The lab looked the same as the others. But there was something else drastically different.

  “Good God,” Terrence exclaimed, one gloved hand over his nose. “What the fuck is that?”

  “Smells like...death,” Jenna said.

  Divya scrunched her nose and sniffed the air. “I don’t think you’re far off from the truth.”

  A moan sounded from a dark corner of the vast lab.

  “The fuck was that?” Miguel asked.

  Dom signaled for Miguel to follow his lead. They crept toward the far reaches of the space. Sweat trickled across Dom’s brow, but he kept his eyes open, scanning the dark corners for the cause of the sound.

  The noise came again. Not a Skull...or at least, not one Dom had heard before. More like an agonized groan.

  Dom rounded a lab bench and saw the source of the noise. Four humans lay huddled in the corner. There was no outward sign that the Oni Agent had affected them. The only bony protuberances Dom saw were their jutting cheekbones pressing against their thin skin. Its appearance, colorless and almost translucent, wasn’t the result of a biological weapon.

  They were starving.

  “Survivors! Divya!” Dom said.

  Divya rushed toward them with Glenn tailing her. “Oh my God!”

  She knelt next to one man and gently lifted his wrist. His emaciated arms looked ready to break even in Divya’s careful grip. He wore a white T-shirt covered in unrecognizable stains and slacks that must’ve belonged to the suit jacket he had draped over himself like a blanket. His eyes seemed to bulge from his head. Divya flashed a light over his face, but his pupils didn’t seem to adjust.

  “He’s alive, but there’s no telling how long he’ll last.” She moved to the next survivor. The woman wore a white coat, either a doctor or a researcher. Another woman had scrubs, once a subdued green, now mottled with splotches of dried blood. A ragged beard draped off the gaunt face of the final survivor. He too wore scrubs.

  “She’s gone.” Divya’s expression dropped, her shoulders slumping, as she gestured to the woman in the lab coat. She knelt next to the other woman and checked her vitals then moved on to the man with the beard. “They’re both still with us. We need water.”

  Glenn dug through his supplies and handed Divya an extra bottle.

  The man with the beard groaned. His long, skinny arms reached out desperately. Divya held the bottle to his cracked lips but only let him have a sip. He grappled with the bottle, his fingers pulling against Divya’s.

  “No,” she said. She turned to the others. “They’re dehydrated and starving, but if they fill their stomachs too fast, they’ll kill themselves. They need proper medical attention.”

  “We need to get them to the ship,” Dom said.

  Divya nodded. “We can help keep them alive a little longer here, but we don’t have the supplies to get them recovered.”

  “Check it out,” Jenna said, walking over with two plastic cards in her hands. “ID badges.” She pointed to the woman in scrubs. “She’s a nurse, and he’s”—she indicat
ed the man with the suit jacket—”he must be a scientist. Says PhD right here.” She tapped on the badge.

  “We got to bring ‘em back, Chief,” Miguel said. “We can’t leave ‘em here.”

  “Whoa, hold on.” Terrence waved a hand. “I don’t mean to be rude, but they don’t look like they’re going to make it. What do we do? Bring ‘em with us on the rest of our trip through the hospital? No way they’ll make it.”

  Divya helped the woman in scrubs take a sip of water before moving to the man with the suit jacket. He let out a long groan. His fingers twitched for the water bottle. Divya’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Terrence is right. We can’t haul them around with us. And...” She exhaled slowly. “And if we leave them here while we go on, I’m not sure they’ll live.” She nodded toward the dead woman to emphasize her point. “I can stay behind and watch them.”

  “No,” Dom said. “We aren’t splitting up. Not in here. Not now.” He surveyed the lab again. They only had a few more to investigate, and they’d be on their way to the Huntress. The ship was anchored a mere three-minute flight away. “I’m guessing these people might last long enough to leave with us when we’re done here. But we can’t fit them on the chopper with us.”

  Miguel’s eyes went wide. “Chief, you just going to leave ‘em here?”

  “No, absolutely not,” Dom said. “Frank, this is Alpha. Do you read?”

  “Roger, Alpha.”

  “We’ve got some survivors. I want you to take them back to the ship. How long before you can be on the roof?”

  “Give me five.”

  “We’ve got five minutes,” Dom said to the Hunters. “I don’t want Frank idling on the roof with those rotors thumping and calling the Skulls to dinner. Got it?”

  The others nodded. He glanced at Terrence then Glenn, the two largest Hunters on his team. “You each grab one.”