Extinction Aftermath (Extinction Cycle Book 6)

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  He swallowed hard. They were already a man down. Dohi was still unconscious in the center of the group.

  Over the raucous screams of humans and screeching monsters came an adolescent voice.

  “My dad told me something, before he died.”

  Fitz looked over at Michel. The other kids were huddled together in a knot of raggedy clothes. Shaking hands struggled to hold guns aloft. These weren’t adults. Fitz had been wrong back in the crypts. They were just kids, and they couldn’t win against monsters.

  They never had a chance…

  “Dad told me it’s a good death to go down fighting. It’s a brave way to die.” Michel went to slap a magazine into his AK-47. His trembling fingers knocked the mag against the receiver, and he dropped it in the dirt. He scooped down, grabbed it, and slammed it into the gun.

  “Jesus, Michel,” Fitz began.

  “I’m afraid,” Michel said, looking Fitz in the eye. “I’m afraid I won’t die well like he did.”

  The words shattered Fitz’s already broken heart. He couldn’t find his voice to reply. All around them, Wormers speared through the earth, raising a wall of rock and dirt around the group. The monsters were closing in from all directions, including the sky. Two juveniles climbed on top of the MATV, and although Fitz knew it wasn’t possible, he could swear they were grinning at him.

  God, how he wished Beckham was here to bark orders. Even in the worst situations, Beckham had always kept his cool. He was half a world away now, probably eating dinner with Horn, Kate, and the kids.

  “It’s okay to be afraid,” Fitz said, repeating something Beckham had told him once. He paused and looked back over the writhing mass of monsters. “You ready, kid?”

  Michel nodded. Apollo bared his teeth, snarling. Fitz exchanged a meaningful glance with Rico. She had picked up an RPG launcher from one of the older kids and held it at the ready. Tanaka and Stevenson flanked her, jaws set and eyes steely. Team Ghost was ready.

  And Fitz was ready to lead them in their final battle.

  “Rico, focus on the Beetles,” Fitz said. “Stevenson, you got the juveniles. Tanaka, take those Pinchers. Mira, you and your kids need to keep the adult Variants and the Reavers off us.” Fitz locked eyes with the woman. She’d kept her ragtag band of orphans alive for months, and Fitz couldn’t shake the thought that he was responsible for bringing this army to her door.

  Dear Lord, he thought, bowing his head, please find it in your mercy to protect these children. I don’t care much what happens to me, but get these kids out of here alive.

  Fitz opened his eyes and straightened his back. “Fight to the truck!” he called. “And hold the line!”

  An RPG streaked away from the launcher as soon as the words left his mouth. It hissed across the gardens and smashed into the shell of a Black Beetle, blowing it in half. Stevenson leveled his SAW and fired on the juveniles that were leaping off the roof. They dropped to all fours, stampeding toward Team Ghost. Rounds broke through armor and splattered blood on the ash-covered pavement.

  Fitz fired his grenade launcher. The projectile hit the dirt in front of the closest juvenile, and the explosion blew the monster to pieces. The shockwave slammed into the other creatures, knocking them aside, but they quickly rallied and continued their advance.

  Mira fired her AK-47 at the adult Variants. The Ombres followed her lead and joined the fight. The frail beasts skittered across the dirt, plowing through the gunfire despite gaping holes in their translucent, veiny skin. Blood coated the ground outside the Basilica, but the monsters still kept coming.

  “Rico!” Fitz shouted.

  The hiss of another rocket sounded. The Beetle bent down just as it zoomed overhead. An explosion bloomed in the canopy of trees ten feet behind it, fire raining down harmlessly on the shell. Three Pinchers waddled out of the smoke.

  “Tanaka, more Pinchers!” Fitz shouted.

  Rico fired again, blowing a hole in the enemy’s line and cracking another Beetle in half. Tanaka and Stevenson worked together to mow down the smaller Pinchers in a desperate attempt to clear a path to the truck.

  “Hurry!” Fitz shouted. “Michel, shoot the juveniles on the MATV!”

  There was no answer, and Fitz spun to see the kid on the ground, clutching his leg. Acid bubbled on the surface of his skin. Another blast hissed toward the children, hitting a teenage boy on the side of his head. He dropped to his knees, his screams stifled by the toxins.

  A wave of fire rushed through Fitz, a sickening cocktail of fear and guilt.

  He ducked as a Reaver swooped down with claws extended. The spiked tail sliced through his left shoulder. Pain lanced along that arm, but Fitz was beyond caring. He raised his M4 and fired a burst that pierced the monster’s wings. It fought for altitude, struggling to stay above the carnage.

  Fitz swung his weapon to the juveniles perched on the MATV. They were both burping up more acid, building up enough of the toxic spit to spray again.

  He dropped his M4 and unslung his MK11. He hefted the big gun up, held a breath in, and fired. The first shot punched through the forehead of the juvenile on top of the truck’s roof. It fell limply onto the dirt. The second hit the creature on the hood in the right eye. That one skidded off the side, jerking violently before falling still.

  He raced to where Michel was lying on the ground. Fitz reached down to grab the boy’s hand. It felt small. So goddamn small.

  He caught a glimpse of Dohi as he dragged the kid across the dirt. The man was stirring on the ground in the center of the group. He had a hand on his head and shook it from side to side.

  “Dohi, we need you!” Fitz shouted.

  Another RPG slashed overhead. This time Rico’s aim was true. It hit the third Black Beetle in the right leg. The blast lifted the beast into the air in a shower of sparks and body parts.

  “Keep fighting to the truck!” Fitz yelled.

  The group slowly moved toward the MATV. He risked a glance over his shoulder to check for casualties. Three more of the older Ombres were dead, and some of the kids were injured, but Mira had kept the younger ones close to her, protecting them with her life.

  Tanaka slung his M4 over his shoulder and pulled his swords just in time to engage a Pincher that had broken through the line of fire and was heading toward the brave Frenchwoman. The creature brought up a claw to meet his sword. The steel broke through the armor with a crunch. He decapitated the monster with a swift slice and then stabbed an onrushing adult Variant through its sucker mouth.

  Fitz had to let go of Michel’s hand to fire a shot at an adult that was charging toward them. His first shot kicked up dirt in the monster’s face. Before he could get off a second, the beast’s head vanished in an explosion of gore.

  Michel groaned and lowered the pistol he had used to blow off the Variant’s face. His eyes rolled back in his head, the pain finally overwhelming him.

  “Hang on kid!” Fitz reached for Meg’s hatchet. He was going to have to amputate Michel’s leg to stop the toxins from spreading. A high-pitched wail from above made Fitz duck and raise his MK11. He fired at a Reaver dropping in a nosedive for their position.

  Crack!

  The first shot punched through a wing.

  Crack!

  The second hit an armored shoulder.

  Crack!

  The final shot hit the monster in the neck. It landed on the field between Fitz and the MATV with a thump. Their path was littered with corpses, but it was momentarily clear. He grabbed another magazine and palmed it into the weapon.

  “To the truck! Everyone, go!” Fitz shouted.

  As he reloaded, a pair of Wormers broke through the dirt in front of him and to his side. Tentacles grabbed a girl from the line and dragged her toward the hole. From behind came another crack of breaking ground. Another Wormer smashed through the earth in the center of the group. Fitz turned
to watch Dohi bring his combat knife down on the creature’s skull.

  “Come on!” Fitz yelled. He centered his rifle on the Wormer that had the girl, but he jerked the muzzle up when a human figure ran through his crosshairs.

  The kids were sprinting toward the truck, urged on by their protector’s stern French commands. Mira fired her weapon at a Wormer attempting to pull a girl into its tunnel. The shot tore through the soft flesh of the monster, drenching the girl in blood. She let out a wail and reached toward Mira, who pulled her free of the limp tentacles.

  With her arm around the girl, Mira guided her back to the cluster of children. Tanaka was a few feet away, hacking a thin Variant to pieces. A second beast climbed out of a Wormer hole and bounded for Mira.

  Fitz only had enough time for one shot. He lined up his MK11 and pulled the trigger, blowing off a piece of the monster’s back. It crashed to the ground, flopping and gushing blood.

  Mira glanced at the dying creature and held up a hand to Fitz when a shadow suddenly passed over her.

  “Watch out!” Fitz yelled a moment too late.

  A Reaver swooped from above, grabbed Mira with its talons, and pulled her away from the girl she had just saved. Fitz raised his gun at the beast, trying to get a clear shot. The wings and armored torso flickered in front of his crosshairs. He prepared to fire, but the woman’s face suddenly emerged. He pushed the scope away for a split second. Mira’s sharp green eyes were fixated on the kids below.

  “Protect them!” she yelled as it pulled her toward the basilica.

  Fitz pushed the scope back to his eye for a clear shot.

  Come on, come on. I just need one clean…

  A wing flashed across his sight and he squeezed off a round that punched through the armor, sending the creature sailing toward the steeple. It pulled up at the last second and flapped around the back of the basilica. Watching Mira vanish felt like a scab being ripped from his heart. She had done everything to save these kids.

  Now it was his job to make sure she didn’t die in vain.

  Team Ghost was lobbing grenades into the gardens and surrounding woods, trying to disorient the beasts long enough for the kids to reach the truck. Geysers of dirt and diseased flesh blew into the air. At this rate they’d run out of ammo soon. Reavers swooped down, one of them grabbing a boy and pulling him into the sky.

  Fitz shot the monster in the spine, and it released the kid from its grip, dropping him back into the cluster of survivors. He couldn’t see if the boy was still alive.

  “Keep moving!” Fitz yelled. They were fifty feet from the vehicle, but it could have been fifty miles.

  He could see they weren’t going to make it.

  A flicker of light suddenly peeked over the horizon, slowly spreading a wall of crimson over the French countryside. It was something Fitz hadn’t thought he would see again.

  They had survived the night, but they were out of time.

  Apollo nudged up against him, whining softly. The dog had a slash on his right leg. It wasn’t the first time he had bled with the dog, but this would be the last.

  “I love you, boy,” Fitz said. They had endured much and succeeded against incredible odds, but Fitz knew that no matter how hard you fought, some battles couldn’t be won. All it takes is all you got…but sometimes you just didn’t have enough.

  He hefted his gun back up with his injured arm and fired on a Reaver. There were three more of the winged monsters, but they abruptly changed direction. Fitz followed them to the west where a black dot had emerged over the horizon. Whatever it was, it was leading the monsters away. He pivoted back to the MATV and blew the head off a Variant that had climbed on top.

  Over the gunfire and screams, there was a faint sound that made Fitz’s heart skip a beat.

  Is that…?

  Yes!

  A transmission crackled in his ear.

  “Ghost 1, do you copy?”

  “This is Ghost 1!” Fitz shouted into the comms.

  “I got you, brother! Hang on. One big-ass King Stallion, coming in hot over the city.”

  Fitz started laughing in sheer relief. He recognized that voice. It was Tito, Timbo’s cousin, the chopper pilot who had saved their asses back in D.C. The massive chopper closed in on the church and unleashed a salvo of gunfire that cut the remaining Reavers from the air.

  A second line of machine gun fire hit the wave of adult Variants. Tito made a quick pass over the group and then banked hard to the right to swing around for another run.

  “Bradley’s going to have my head!” Tito said, laughing like a madman. “I swear to God, this is the last time I steal a chopper for Team Ghost.”

  Rico ran ahead and jumped onto the hood of the MATV as the King Stallion swooped in with cables unfurled to connect to the truck. Gunfire came from all directions, holding back the monsters as they squawked, screeching in an evil discord that hurt Fitz’s ears. They fanned back out into the gardens, retreating to the shadows as the morning sun rose in the sky.

  He looked down at Michel, who was curled up on his side at Fitz’s feet. Fitz wasn’t sure how to pick the kid up without getting acid all over himself too. He glanced around for something to wrap him in.

  “Kid, hang on. We’re getting you out of here.”

  Michel’s lips trembled and parted. He coughed, his lungs rattling. He rolled over, and Fitz’s heart sank. It was too late for the boy. He’d been hit worse than Fitz had thought, or else the toxins had simply spread like wildfire.

  “Would my dad be proud?” Michel’s voice trailed off, barely more than a whisper. He coughed again.

  Apollo licked the boy’s face. A tear fell from Fitz’s eye as he leaned down, grabbed the boy’s clammy hand and squeezed. “Your dad would be very proud.”

  Michel’s hand went limp. He placed it gently on the boy’s chest and tucked his Superman cape around him like a shroud. Fitz squeezed his eyes shut, gasping for air as sobs tore from his throat. A pair of gloved hands clapped him on the shoulder. He looked up to see Rico. Behind her were the survivors of the battle, bloody and wide-eyed, clinging to one another. They were all staring at him, tears streaking down their filthy faces.

  “Where is Maman?” a young girl asked.

  “Everyone inside of the truck!” Stevenson shouted.

  The kids filed into the troop hold as ordered. Dohi stumbled along, disoriented from his concussion. Rico got a shoulder under his arm with Tanaka on his other side. They half-carried the injured member of Ghost to the MATV just as the cables tightened. Fitz glanced down at Michel one last time, knowing he couldn’t bring the boy with them due to the toxins.

  “Goodbye, kid,” Fitz said. He bent down to pick Apollo up and help him into the back of the truck. They were the last two in. Securely inside, Fitz let himself collapse on the smooth metal floor, his chest heaving.

  “You did it, Fitzie, you got us out of there,” Rico said.

  Not everyone…

  He sat up and counted twelve filthy faces. Fitz had gotten Team Ghost out, but they had lost seven of the kids—and Mira.

  “She had just saved one of the little ones,” he explained. “The Reaver came down, and then…Jesus, I’m so sorry. I only got off one shot. I just couldn’t save her.”

  Rico stared at him, her swollen nose and eyes were red, the color clashing with her bubblegum pink hair. She sniffed and rubbed her hand over her cheeks, roughly wiping the tears away.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  It is my fault.

  Apollo laid down beside him, but he gestured for the dog to get up. He didn’t deserve to be comforted.

  “Go see the kids, boy,” Fitz said. Apollo trotted over to the Ombres and sat on his hind legs in front of them. The young girl who had asked for Mira stroked his head. They were talking amongst themselves, and Fitz understood just
enough French to know that they were scared and confused. More than one of them was still asking where Mira and Michel were.

  “We’re taking you all somewhere safe,” Fitz said. One of the older kids, a girl with a vicious scratch running down the side of her face, translated his words into French for the others.

  Fitz paused and took a deep breath. “Your Maman and Captain Michel aren’t coming with us. They had to stay behind to…to watch over the basilica.”

  The Ombres looked back at Fitz—some of them old enough to know the truth, others believing him. He wiped the sweat and blood from his face.

  “Better look out your window, Ghost,” Tito said over the channel.

  Fitz turned to the window in the side of the MATV. At first he didn’t see anything but whiteness, like the ground was covered in a blanket of snow.

  But snow didn’t move.

  “My God,” Rico said. “There has to be thousands of them down there.”

  The roar of jets broke in the distance.

  “Operation Reach is underway,” Tito said. “Got you guys out right in time, too, because we’re about to sizzle those bastards.”

  Fitz couldn’t pull his eyes away from the sea of mutated flesh below. This was the Variant army Mira had spoken about. The force they had fought at the basilica had just been a recon party.

  He turned his back to the window and relaxed against the bulkhead as the sound of the jets grew louder. Team Ghost had completed their mission. They had given Nixon and Bradley the intel they needed to fight their way to Paris and carry out Operation Reach.

  Fitz had done his duty…so why did he feel like he’d utterly failed?

  -23-

  Piero finished tying a strip of his torn uniform around his wounded ankle. The makeshift tourniquet had stopped the bleeding, but he had to find something to clean it. He could only imagine what kind of infection he might get from a demon. He tightened it one last time, then tested his weight on the ankle. It hurt, but he could still walk.

  “You ready to see the world again, Ringo?” Piero whispered to his pocket.

  The mouse peeked out, then ducked back down.