Extinction Aftermath (Extinction Cycle Book 6)

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “It will be okay. We’ll figure this out. For your sake and ours.” Kate looked down and rubbed a hand over the swell of her stomach.

  “What about Fitz and the other forces in Europe?” Horn asked. “Wouldn’t they rally against Wood? Let’s call some of our boys and girls back to the home front.”

  “I didn’t want to, but I have to contact General Nixon and request reinforcements,” Ringgold said. “Meanwhile, I need to be able to talk to the mayors of the SZTs—and I need to do it from a safe location.”

  Horn crossed his tattooed arms over his chest. “Not sure we got any ‘safe locations’ left, ma’am. No disrespect.”

  “That’s why I came here,” Ringgold said. “Because I can’t trust anyone else.” She let the words sink in before continuing. “I wasn’t going to sit in that bunker like I did at Raven Rock, waiting to die from the virus or at the hands of our own military.”

  “I also have to get an urgent message to General Nixon and the EUF,” Kate said. “And not just because we need their help here. Ellis and I found something—”

  “Something that could change the tide of this war.”

  The voice came from the family room. Ellis stood and shoved his hands in his lab coat pockets as he crossed into the kitchen.

  “We have to tell them to halt Operation Reach,” he said. “The radiation won’t kill the Variants in Europe. It will only make things worse.”

  Ringgold narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “The Variants over there have evolved differently. The radiation causes a variety of mutations including—”

  “Shhh,” Horn said. “I don’t want my girls to hear that shit.”

  Ellis lowered his voice. “Instead of killing them, the radiation mutates them. They have had more time to develop there, relatively unchecked. We’re not exactly sure what differences in their genetic makeup have caused it to happen, but…you’ve heard of the monsters with wings, right? The Reavers?”

  Ringgold nodded, and Kate picked up the explanation.

  “We’ve also identified Variants with chitinous shells like beetles. Who knows how many others there are out there, or how much worse things would get if we irradiate them further?”

  “We’re looking at a disaster a hundred times worse than Operation Liberty,” said Ellis.

  Ringgold reached up to put her palm over her face, hiding her expression. The scar tissue on her shoulder burned. She wasn’t sure if it was a phantom feeling this time, but it sure felt real.

  Beckham scanned the room, his gaze falling on Kate last. They shared a worried look that made Ringgold wonder if she had made the right decision. Coming here put their lives in jeopardy.

  Nelson looked at his watch. “Operation Reach is scheduled to start in a few hours.”

  “Is there a way to get a message over there without giving away our location?” Ringgold asked.

  Beckham cracked his head from side to side. “Not if it comes from you, Madame President. Who’s going to believe you if Wood is on the radio waves saying you’re destroying your own SZTs?”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Every face shifted toward Ellis.

  He stepped forward. “I’ll get a message to General Nixon and the EUF, but I’ll need an escort.”

  The hushed voices of the children and the crackle of burning logs in the fireplace filled the silence that followed his statement. Outside, the air raid sirens had stopped wailing. For a moment Ringgold forgot where she was and enjoyed the quiet.

  “Alright,” Beckham finally said. “Here’s what I think we should do. But we got to do it quick. If I don’t report to Command soon, they are going to come looking for me.”

  “I bought us about thirty minutes,” Horn said. “Told Rayburn that Kate isn’t feeling well but that you’ll be there as soon as you can.”

  Beckham nodded and pushed down on the edge of a map with his prosthetic hand. “I’ll take our pickup and drive Ellis to this radio tower. It’s not heavily guarded, and he should be able to get a message through once we clear the building.”

  “No,” Kate said. “We’re staying together.”

  “We will, but first we have to get this message off.” Beckham turned to her, his jaw set. “Kate, you know someone has to—”

  She held up a hand. “I know…but Pat can’t go out there dressed in a white lab coat. He’ll show up from a mile away.”

  Ellis looked down at his coat, frowned, then peeled it off. Kate walked over to the hall closet and found a dark hoodie of Beckham’s and her navy blue NASA ball cap.

  “Be careful, Pat,” she said, folding his coat over her arm. “I’ll hang on to this for you until you get back.”

  “Thanks,” Ellis replied. “You be careful too.”

  “Big Horn, you take Kate, Donna, and the kids in the jeep,” Beckham said. “President Ringgold, your agents and staff will have to squeeze in somehow, unless we can find another vehicle.”

  “We have our own transportation,” Soprano said.

  “What? I thought you came in a chopper,” Horn said.

  “I…hotwired a truck,” Nelson said. “It’s a Range Rover. Somebody left it parked at the edge of town, and there was nobody around, so…”

  “Okay,” Beckham said. “That’s good. You take the Rover. Follow Horn to the Animal Disease Center buildings. Your chopper is close, right? There’s also a boat there that we can take if we have to leave the island by sea.”

  “And go where?” Horn said.

  Beckham hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

  “So you don’t have a plan?” Soprano asked.

  Horn snorted. “You got a better one, big guy? Because you came to us, and as far as I can tell, you didn’t bring much firepower.”

  Nelson removed his tie and folded it neatly into his pocket. “We still have the Black Hawk. And we didn’t come alone.”

  “How many agents you got?” Horn asked.

  “Three,” Nelson said after a beat.

  Horn laughed condescendingly. “Three, plus us, against God knows how many of Wood’s people. I’m sorry, but this is all crazy. Girls, come here. We need to get ready to go.”

  Ringgold studied Beckham as he rose from his seat. There were deep bags under his eyes, and his movements were slower than they had been before his injuries in Washington, D.C. He wasn’t the same man she had met at Raven Rock.

  “We move in five,” he said.

  The front door creaked open and Barnes looked in. “There are two bogies incoming from the east. Look like Little Birds.”

  Beckham snatched the map off the table. “Everyone grab your gear. We’re moving now!”

  Beckham and Horn led the group outside. They threw their bags into the jeep while Barnes and the other two agents loaded the black Range Rover. Beckham arranged to drive Ellis to the radio tower in Donna’s pickup truck.

  Ringgold watched the two Little Birds sweep over the west side of the island. Their spotlights flickered over the terrain. They were searching for someone, and it wasn’t hard to guess who.

  Kate’s voice pulled Ringgold’s attention back to the driveway.

  “I don’t know about this, Reed. I still don’t think we should split up.”

  Beckham unslung a rifle from his back. “I won’t be any good if I’m worried about you. And if what you said is true, then our friends overseas are about to march into hell. I can’t let that happen.”

  Kate put her arms around him, kissed his lips, and then whispered something in his ear that Ringgold couldn’t hear. Everything was happening so fast she almost missed the sound of footfalls across the street. Beckham pulled his revolver and pointed it at a bearded man. He was holding the hand of a young boy about the same age as Bo.

  “Jesus, Jake, you scared the shit out of me,” Beckham said. He lowered his gun and holstered it. “W
hat the hell are you doing out here?”

  “Could ask you the same thing,” Jake replied. “Where ya’ll going? And what was with the sirens?”

  “Ma’am, please get into the vehicle,” Barnes said to Ringgold. She squeezed into the Range Rover between Soprano and another agent. Barnes took the wheel, and Nelson got into the passenger seat. The third agent got into the back and started loading shells into his shotgun.

  Beckham tossed Jake a machine gun and gestured toward the jeep. The man led his boy over to the door, and Beckham approached the Range Rover to speak to Barnes. “Keep your lights off. Curfew is in effect, but patrols will be active. If you’re spotted, you haul ass to the rally point.”

  “Got it,” Barnes said. “And thanks.”

  Beckham patted the driver door and hurried back to the pickup. The three vehicles backed out one by one. Barnes reversed over the fresh sod, kicking up grass and dirt. The jeep was the first to pull out, and as they peeled away, Kate held up a hand and waved to Ringgold. She returned the gesture.

  The convoy rolled through the residential neighborhood at a low speed. There wasn’t a single vehicle on the road. Street lamps illuminated the pre-fab houses. She’d visited dozens of SZTs across the United States, and all of them looked basically the same. This was the America she had fought to bring back from the brink of destruction. Mailboxes in front yards. A barking dog. The scent of freshly cut grass. Families eating dinner together.

  Beckham took a right at the next street, and she watched the silhouette of the truck vanish into the darkness.

  “Good luck, Captain,” Ringgold whispered. She looked back out the window at the last block of houses. When she was a kid, she had ridden her bike to rich neighborhoods at night to look in windows from the sidewalk and see what other families had. Sometimes she would pretend she lived in one of those nice houses.

  Growing up in the projects hadn’t been easy, but seeing what was possible had motivated Ringgold to fight her way out of the poverty and violence. Looking in from the outside had always filled her with hope.

  She clung to that hope now. It was the only thing keeping her going.

  Beckham drove the truck into a cornfield for cover. He hadn’t seen a single headlight on the road, but he didn’t want to leave the pickup in plain sight.

  He killed the engine and scanned the woods across the road. A tower jutted out of the canopy in the distance. That was their target.

  “Coast looks clear,” Ellis said.

  “Can’t always believe your eyes.”

  Beckham picked up his rifle and used the scope to scan the area. Beside him, Ellis cleared his throat.

  “I’d like a gun, please. I know you have plenty to spare.”

  Beckham lowered his rifle to study the man. When they’d first met, Ellis had been a timid, annoying scientist Beckham had to babysit. He was still annoying, of course, but he had also earned Beckham’s respect. Ellis had stepped up, time and again, to save lives. Now he might just be a key player in saving their forces in Europe.

  Beckham wasn’t the same man he’d been back then, either. In his current state, he might actually be less of a threat than Ellis. He handed over an M9 pistol, and to Beckham’s surprise, the doctor pulled back the slide to chamber a round.

  “I’ve been practicing,” he said with a shrug.

  “Okay, Doc, listen very closely. We get in, you send your messages, and then we book it.”

  “Got it.”

  “Stay behind me at all times.”

  “Okay.”

  “And don’t shoot anyone unless I give the order.”

  Ellis raised an eyebrow. “Reed, believe it or not, I can handle myself. Can we get moving?”

  Beckham reached into his vest pocket where he kept the two most precious things he owned. The first was a picture of his mom. He pulled it out, kissed the plastic sleeve, and replaced it. The other was the ring Horn had given him. He was beginning to think that the perfect moment to propose would never come.

  A breeze whipped through his hair as he quietly shut the truck door. The black fleece jacket and the bulletproof vest he wore over the top kept out most of the chill, but the temperature was plummeting. It wouldn’t be long before winter hit Plum Island.

  “Behind me. Back to back. Eyes out to either side and on our six,” Beckham reminded him.

  “Six is behind us, right?” When Beckham looked back at him in dismay, Ellis just grinned. He raised the M9, and together they moved out.

  Beckham crossed to the other side of the road. The tower was supposed to be guarded by a sentry, but most of the men had been reassigned to more vulnerable areas. He couldn’t see any vehicles or soldiers outside.

  After flashing an advance signal, Beckham tucked the butt of his gun under his left shoulder and gripped the trigger guard with his index finger. He propped the rifle up on his prosthetic hand.

  Don’t think of Kate. Don’t think of Fitz. Don’t think of Horn or his girls. Don’t think of President Ringgold. Don’t think of anything but completing this mission.

  Tonight the aches and pains of his many injuries were buried by a rush of adrenaline. Beckham was back from retirement. He still didn’t feel a hundred percent—not even fifty percent—but he was back in his element, a soldier on a mission.

  He stopped to scope the road, then moved at a hunch and raked the crosshairs in an arc from nine o’clock to three o’clock. The darkness, the chill of the air, the buzz of bugs, and the uncertainty of their mission transported him back to the night he had led Team Ghost to Building 8. If he could have only known the monsters they would face beneath the research facility…

  A crunch came from under his blade, snapping him back to the present. He stepped out of the bed of leaves, cleared the road one last time, then moved to the shoulder. Ellis’s footsteps behind him indicated the doctor was moving as instructed. Beckham glanced back and had to smile when he saw Ellis roving the path behind them with his M9 at the ready. They moved down into the ditch and up into the fort of trees.

  Beckham put his back up against the trunk of a tree and leaned to the right to check for contacts through the wall of branches. He still saw no sign of a sentry around the fenced-in tower.

  Pushing his scope to eye level, Beckham continued into the thick foliage. Snags pulled on his fleece, and his blade threatened to tangle in the weeds and vines as he made his way forward. He hugged the trunks for protection, moving from base to base and staying out of the open as much as possible.

  When he reached the clearing, he crouched and zoomed in on the concrete box of a building. It was small, with only a single control room. A lawn of overgrown grass separated the woods and the gate outside the tower.

  Ellis knelt behind him, keeping low. Beckham let out an icy breath and went to signal an advance when he saw a puff of smoke. The scent of a cigarette hit his nose a moment later.

  “Down,” he whispered.

  Ellis flattened his body on the ground next to Beckham.

  “We got one contact,” Beckham whispered. “You stay here.”

  He crawled through the grass—something he hadn’t tried since losing his hand and part of his leg. It was a lot harder than it used to be. Another cloud of smoke swirled into the air, and Beckham got up and ran for the fence instead.

  When he reached it he slung the rifle over his back and grabbed the bolt cutters from his pack. The cutters slipped off the lock, and he had to try again to position them. Without the strength of both hands, he couldn’t get the jaws to bite down hard enough.

  Beckham closed his eyes for a moment, trying to control his frustration. Exhaling, he waved Ellis for help. The doctor ran across the field and took over with the cutters while Beckham grabbed his M4 and centered the muzzle on the corner where he’d seen the smoke.

  Ellis broke through the lock and held out a hand to prevent the chain from c
lanking. Beckham squeezed past him. He angled his M4 up a ladder leading to the tower and then approached the side of the building. Hugging the wall, he raised his rifle. The smoke was gone, but there was a zipping sound coming from around the corner.

  Beckham moved into position and centered his gun at the sentry, who was standing with his back turned to the building. An arc of steaming liquid hit the ground a few feet away.

  “Pull up your pants and put your hands on your head,” Beckham said.

  The guard looked over his shoulder, then stumbled as he tried to run.

  “Take it easy,” Beckham said.

  The moonlight illuminated the familiar face of an older Marine with crow’s feet and graying facial hair. Beckham remembered him from the embassy building the day of the town hall meeting. The respect he had shown then made it very difficult to do what Beckham needed to do.

  “You the only one here?”

  “Yes. What is this?” the Marine asked, pulling his trousers up and doing his belt.

  “Don’t ask questions, just do as I say. Put your hands on your head and don’t move. You have a key to the building?”

  The Marine nodded.

  “Good. Hand it over.”

  “Captain, I—”

  “Just do it,” Beckham said.

  The Marine raised his hands.

  “What’s your name?” Beckham asked.

  “Huxley,” the Marine replied.

  “Alright, Huxley. Keys. Now.”

  He locked eyes with Beckham and said, “There’s something you should know, Captain.”

  Beckham didn’t have time to chat. “I’m sorry,” he said. In a swift motion, he stepped forward and butted the Marine in the side of the head with his M4. Huxley crashed to the ground, unconscious.

  “Ellis,” Beckham whispered.

  The doctor came around the corner and stared at the Marine.

  “Little help, please,” Beckham said.

  He handed Ellis a zip tie. Ellis grabbed the Marine’s hands and bound them together while Beckham worked on his feet. When they had finished, Beckham apologized a second time before he dug through Huxley’s pockets for the keys. He gave them to Ellis.