Extinction Aftermath (Extinction Cycle Book 6)

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

“Lion 1, there’s something else. The creatures here seem to have mutated, and the locals think it’s from radiation.”

  “Copy that, Ghost 1. That’s no surprise. We’re getting a ton of reports of new Variants out there. But don’t worry, our bombs will kill all of them.”

  “The dirty bombs though. What if they make things worse?”

  “Ghost 1, you just focus on staying alive until I can get you an evac. You let me worry about the other shit. I’ll pass your concerns up the chain of command.”

  “Roger that, sir. How long until our evac?”

  There was a pause, then, “You’ll have to wait a few hours. We lost another Apache, and the big birds were damaged. They’re being repaired now. I got one King Stallion in service and can’t risk it right now.”

  Fitz’s heart sank as he watched the approaching Wormers. The gardens were a network of brown veins webbing toward the basilica.

  “We have hostiles closing on our location,” Fitz said. “We aren’t going to last out here.”

  “I’ll get you that evac as soon as I can. Until then, hunker down. Good luck. Lion 1 out.”

  Bradley’s transmission ended, and a woman’s voice came over the channel.

  “Ghost 1, Lion 2. Ready to receive your report. Over.”

  Fitz was so stunned he couldn’t manage a reply. Apollo whimpered and sat back on his haunches, sensing his handler’s anxiety.

  “Ghost 1, Lion 2. Do you copy? Over.”

  “Lion 2, this is Ghost 1,” Fitz said heavily.

  He did his duty and finished his mission by relaying the coordinates Mira had given him. Command now had the information they needed to take out the Variant and juvenile armies with radioactive bombs in the next phase of the invasion. Operation Reach was meant to kill the majority of the monsters, allowing the MEUs and supporting forces to advance to Paris. He just hoped General Nixon knew what the hell he was doing.

  After Fitz gave the last set of coordinates, his shoulders sagged and he found himself unable to meet the eyes of the people watching him. Bradley would wait to drop those bombs until they got out. He wouldn’t break his promise to Beckham to get Team Ghost home in once piece. Or would he?

  No…Team Ghost is expendable.

  Fitz swallowed hard, knowing he might have just called in a death sentence for his team and these kids.

  The greater good. That’s what being a soldier is all about.

  “Are we going to take your truck, mister?” Michel asked. His gaze flitted to Fitz’s laughing joker bandana, then to his eyes.

  Fitz had considered taking the MATV, but he wasn’t going to risk leaving the building with all those things out there. He tried to think of other options. Maybe they could survive the Variant army by hiding in the crypts like the Ombres, but they would still be within the blast zone of Operation Reach.

  Even if they did fight their way outside to the MATV, not all of them would fit inside. He couldn’t leave a single one of these kids behind.

  Apollo whined at his knee. The dog’s tail was between his legs, and Fitz quickly saw why. A shadow had blotted out the moonlight streaming in through the gap in the boards. Dohi slowly replaced the board over the hole and took a step back. More shadows shrouded the room on all sides. The buffeting wind of the Reavers’ wings slammed into the basilica like a brewing tornado.

  Fitz motioned for everyone to move down the stairs, but he waited to get a final look at what they were facing. At the far end of the gardens, a pack of frail adult Variants prowled along a fort of bushes. To the north, a juvenile perched on a stone ledge, its head tilted to watch the sky. A dozen more of the armored beasts were moving in from the parking lot. In the small wood to the west, a tree suddenly sagged into the earth. The branches swayed and vibrated like the trunk was in a blender. It jolted violently before the base of the tree vanished into the earth, leaving only the top branches.

  “Come on, sir,” Dohi called.

  Fitz raised a finger, watching as a black beast with a curved beak for a mouth emerged from the hole in the ground. It was almost twice the size of an average juvenile, but instead of the rigid, turtle-like armor he’d come to expect, this one had the smooth shell of a beetle.

  “Jesus,” Fitz whispered.

  Dohi tapped him on the arm. “What do you see?”

  He pulled his eye away and slowly lowered the board.

  “The devil,” he whispered back.

  Ringgold ran as fast as she could across the new White House lawn. Her lungs burned with every chilly breath. Soprano had already stumbled twice and was now leaning on a Secret Service agent.

  “Hurry!” Nelson yelled.

  They ran toward an unmarked Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk. It had the same stealth modifications as the one SEAL Team Six had used to raid Osama Bin Laden’s compound. Nelson claimed it would get them out of here without being detected.

  “How much time?” Ringgold asked.

  “Five minutes to clear the infection zone, Madame President,” Nelson said, running smoothly beside her.

  “What about the teams out here?”

  “We lost contact with them.”

  Ringgold cursed. Snipers and Marines were somewhere in the woods, rushing to get back, but with the comms down there was no way to know where they were. In five minutes, that missile would hit. And then they would start to turn…

  An image of her cousin, her eyes turned yellow and bloody, flashed across her mind. She shook the nightmarish images away.

  I will not become a monster.

  The thump of rotors forced her thoughts back to the tarmac. Nelson was already at the chopper. He motioned for Ringgold to duck, then held out his hand to help her into the troop hold.

  She took a seat and strapped the buckles across her chest. The lights of the old resort glowed warm and bright in the distance. Ringgold hated to leave it with nothing but the clothes on her back, but she hated leaving behind the majority of her staff even more.

  “Three minutes!” Nelson shouted. “Hurry!”

  Barnes jumped inside and took a seat next to Nelson. The remaining two agents heaved a wheezing Soprano inside and climbed in after him.

  “Let’s go!” Nelson held up a thumbs up sign to the cockpit.

  Ringgold watched the gardens fall away below them, saying a silent farewell to the roses she had loved. Then movement caught her eye.

  “Down there!” she shouted.

  Soprano was breathing heavily, his hand gripping his chest. He twisted to follow her finger to the eastern fences. A team of Marines was opening the gate. They were still at least a quarter-mile from the White House.

  As she watched their progress, praying they’d make it to safety, Ringgold saw the fiery trail of the missile emerge over the horizon.

  “Move it!” Nelson ordered. “Get us the hell out of here!”

  The bird rolled hard to the right, making the harness tighten across her chest. Pain raced across her injured shoulder, but it seemed distant, like none of this was actually happening to her.

  To the south, the missile was already descending toward its target. Ringgold twisted to follow its trajectory as the pilots turned hard to the east.

  “Thirty seconds!” Nelson yelled. “Punch it!”

  “Fast as we can go!”

  Ringgold barely heard the pilot’s reply. She was watching the team of Marines below. They had crossed the gardens and were running toward the door of the main building.

  “They’re almost inside!” Ringgold shouted.

  She lost sight of the men as the missile exploded in mid-air. A brilliant blast blossomed over the gardens. The heat wave scorched the trees.

  The chopper turned again, blocking her view.

  “We’re clear!” one of the pilots said.

  Ringgold turned to look at the White House. The roof was smoking, but i
t wasn’t the fire she was worried about. It was the viral payload.

  “Did anybody see if those men got inside?” she asked.

  “I’m sure they made it, ma’am,” Nelson said, but she could tell he didn’t really believe it.

  Ringgold couldn’t even find the words to reply. If Wood had his way, he was going to send humanity beyond the brink of extinction. She couldn’t let that happen—she had to find Beckham. He had stopped Colonel Zach Wood, and now he was the only man she trusted to stop his lunatic brother before it was too late.

  She watched in silence as the helicopter sped away from the smoldering resort, wondering if, even now, the Hemorrhage Virus was wreaking havoc on the people she had left behind.

  Beckham touched the pocket containing Sheila’s ring, wondering if he would ever find a quiet moment to propose to Kate. He’d thought about doing it tonight after dinner, but once again a crisis had intervened.

  The beams from the jeep’s headlights cut through the night as they pulled away from the lab building. Kate and Ellis were in the back seat discussing their findings, and Beckham was doing everything he could not to interrupt or ask questions.

  As he watched them talking animatedly, their heads bent together, he felt a flicker of emotion. Not jealousy, exactly. Ellis wasn’t a romantic rival, but he did get to share something with Kate that Beckham couldn’t. He’d always considered himself to be an intelligent guy, but those two were on a whole different level.

  Beckham looked down at his ruined leg and his prosthetic hand. He’d been a different man when he’d fallen in love with Dr. Kate Lovato. Would she still want to marry him now?

  Fitz had warned him about feelings like this. After the young Marine had lost his legs in Iraq, he’d also lost a lot of his self-confidence. The important thing, he’d told Beckham, was not to pretend like nothing had happened. People would look at you differently. You’d look at yourself differently, too.

  What did Kate see when she looked at him now?

  As if sensing his troubled thoughts, Kate glanced up and smiled at him. Her eyes were tired, and there were wrinkles on her forehead that hadn’t existed seven months ago. She was still the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen.

  Beckham smiled back, a lopsided grin, and felt his dark mood lighten.

  “So lemme get this straight,” said Horn from the driver’s seat. Unlike Beckham, the big guy had no problems with interrupting the scientific discussion in the back seat. “You’re saying there are giant killer bats and bug like Variants in France?”

  Ellis began a scientific explanation of how the Variants had mutated from the radiation that had poisoned much of the country when the EUF blew up nuclear power plants. Beckham tried to follow it, but a hissing in his ear alerted him to a transmission for command staff. He cupped his earpiece and saw Horn doing the same.

  “There has been an attack on SZT 61 in New Orleans,” said a voice over the comms. “President Ringgold has reportedly launched a missile armed with the Hemorrhage Virus. All attempts to reach the Oval Office have gone unanswered. Plum Island is on level 4 lockdown until further notice.”

  Horn locked eyes with Beckham. In the back seat, Ellis was still talking about radiation and epigenetic changes.

  “Shut up, Doc,” Horn said.

  Ellis dropped his hands to his lap. “What? What I’d say?”

  Air raid sirens answered his question, wailing from towers all across the island. Beckham relayed the news about the attack to Kate and Ellis.

  “She would never do that,” Kate said. “There’s no way.”

  “This was Wood,” Beckham said.

  “Doesn’t the mayor know that? What about General Rayburn?”

  “They know. But I don’t trust Walker, and I’m still not sure about Rayburn.”

  “If the White House is compromised, there’s no one to relay our findings to the EUF. They’ll proceed with Operation Reach and make things even worse,” Ellis said, raking his hand through his slicked-back hair.

  “God damn Andrew Wood,” Kate said. “Damn that whole family.”

  Beckham felt Kate’s rage and frustration in his own chest. If Operation Reach went ahead as planned, the radiation from the bombs could fuel even more nightmarish mutations in the juveniles.

  The situation stateside looked grim, too. And if Wood had really launched those missiles... How far would he go to avenge his brother’s death? What did he really hope to gain? The White House going dark at the same time as the attack on New Orleans was troubling. If he’d been planning the campaign to destabilize the country, then framing President Ringgold for a bioweapon attack on her own people was a smart tactic. Through Beckham’s muddled thoughts came the words of the soldier back at the Command Center.

  Sir… Is it possible that Wood is hunting for you and your men?

  “Reed?” Kate said.

  “Not now. I’m trying to think.”

  In the rearview mirror, he saw her blue eyes flare with hurt and then look away.

  “I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean to snap, I just—”

  Another transmission hissed into his ear.

  “Captain Beckham, we need you back at Command. ASAP.”

  It was Rayburn, and there was something about his voice that Beckham didn’t like. As of right now, the only people he trusted on the island were in this jeep.

  Horn yanked the steering wheel and took a right back into town.

  “Captain Beckham, do you copy?”

  “Yeah, I copy. I’ll be there in twenty,” Beckham replied.

  Static hissed over the channel.

  The silence was telling. Sometimes the words that weren’t spoken were the biggest clue to a man’s plan.

  “Head back to the house,” Beckham ordered. “We don’t have much time.”

  “But Rayburn just said…” Instead of finishing his sentence, Horn twisted the wheel again and sped toward the residential area of the island.

  “We’ll get the kids, food, and supplies, and then we’ll make our way to the Animal Disease Center buildings. Nobody goes out there anymore, but the structures are sound. Once you’re all safe, I’ll return to Command. Horn will stay protect you until I come back.”

  “No!” Kate said. “You can’t do this alone, Reed.”

  Horn nodded. “We should stick together, boss. Fuck going back to Command. I don’t trust nobody there.”

  Beckham pulled Jensen’s .45 from his holster. He snapped open the breach and checked for ammo. It had been months since he had used the gun for anything but target practice, but he’d kept it well maintained just in case.

  “I think we have to assume Walker and Rayburn have already been or will be compromised. Walker’s loyalty to the president is fair weather at best, and Rayburn…” Beckham shook his head. “I’m just not sure about him.”

  He holstered the revolver. “What I am sure of is that Wood is coming here on the Zumwalt to get revenge for his brother.”

  There was a hard silence broken by Kate’s no-nonsense voice, the one she used when she’d already made up her mind about something. “Then we face him with you. We’re a family, all of us. We stick together.”

  “Fitz and Commander Davis aren’t coming to save the day this time. They’re both thousands of mile away,” Beckham said. “And I’m not going to let Wood hurt any of you. Kate, you have to trust me on this. If I don’t report in, they will come looking for me. I have to get ahead of this thing, and my first step is to go to Command to gather intel.”

  Kate raised an eyebrow. “And if it’s a trap?”

  “Then I fight my way out and rendezvous with you all later.”

  “You against how many men?” Horn said with a snort. “Boss, I hate to break it to you, but you ain’t the soldier you used to be.”

  Beckham gritted his teeth. The words stung, but they were true.
He was lucky if he could take on one trained opponent, let alone an entire post of them.

  “Reed, you are staying with us or else we’re coming with you.” Kate’s lip trembled as she sucked in a breath. “You are not leaving me to raise this baby on my own.”

  Hot tears prickled in his eyes. He cleared his throat and turned back to the windshield to think.

  Horn pulled the jeep into the residential area. The streets and sidewalks were empty. Drapes were pulled across the windows of every house on their block.

  “We make this quick,” Beckham said.

  Horn pulled up to their small house and killed the engine. “Do I have time to grab a beer? I sure as hell could use one.”

  Beckham almost laughed, but his chest was so tight he could hardly breath. He got out of the jeep and opened the door for Kate, then offered his hand to help her out. A cold rush of wind rustled her hair. She looked fragile in the light from the street poles, but he knew she was stronger than she looked. Holding her hand in his left, he walked with her to the house.

  Inside, Donna and the kids were just finishing dinner. She and her son, Bo, were a regular fixture at their house.

  “There’s some macaroni left over,” she said. “Hope ya’ll are hungry.”

  Tasha and Jenny sprang up from their chairs and rushed over to hug Horn. He wrapped his arms around the girls and bent down to whisper something to them.

  “Thanks for babysitting,” Kate said.

  Donna smiled. “My pleasure. Bo is finally starting to talk again, and I think it’s mostly because of the girls.” She lowered her voice and whispered, “I think he’s got a little crush on Tasha.”

  Kate forced a quick smile. Beckham could see that she just barely holding things together.

  He sat down next to Bo, who was picking at a piece of cheesy macaroni on his plate.

  “Hey kid, how you doin’?” Beckham asked. “You want to go on a field trip?”

  Bo shrugged. The little boy had been through hell, surviving the Variants on the mainland and then losing his father during the fight with the Bone Collector a few months ago. A kid his age should be out riding bikes and playing baseball, but Bo mostly clung to his mother’s shadow.