No matter how he justified the past fifty years in his mind, the irony bled through. The bioweapon he’d ordered Medford to create wasn’t saving American soldiers' lives—it was turning them into monsters, along with billions of innocent civilians.
The colonel closed his eyes, filled with an overwhelming guilt that tugged at his core. He’d known at the beginning of the Vietnam War that it was lost. Many would call him crazy for his actions, but in reality he was logical. Now he was starting to wonder if this new war was lost too. Operation Reaper had failed miserably. The military had retreated from all major population zones. They were losing the country city by city.
Gibson stepped up to the glass, concentrating on the boy. His pale skin glistened under the lights, clean from the decon shower. As Gibson looked closer, he saw the symptoms of the Hemorrhage virus were already reemerging. Blood oozed from under his eyelids and trickled from his nose. Red blotches lined his naked arms and legs.
It was his fault that the innocent kid had transformed into a monster, but that was never his intention. Goddamnit, he had only wanted to save lives! To protect the country he loved so dearly.
War had changed since Vietnam. Like the boy in front of him, it had evolved. America had new enemies, enemies that were merciless and brutal. Terrorist groups would stop at nothing to inflict harm on the country he loved so much. The military had done everything to take the battle to foreign soil, but the blood of too many American soldiers had already stained the sands of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan. VX-99 was supposed to end all of that. The bioweapon was supposed to be killing terrorists and then fizzling out before anyone knew what had happened.
Instead, Gibson was staring at a child infected with the viral monster Doctor Medford had inadvertently created. Gritting his teeth, he looked away from the glass. It was only a matter of time before one of the scientists on the island discovered the truth. Hell, he would have told them the truth and explained how the virus worked if he had known. But he didn’t. That’s why he had sent the Delta Force team in days before to collect a sample.
Sighing, Gibson forced himself back to the window. Watching the struggling boy, his troubled mind had a second of intense clarity. In that moment he knew one thing for sure. He was responsible for the end of the world, and he could only pray that Doctor Lovato and the other scientists would find a cure before it was too late.
With his head tucked against his chest, Beckham moved at a half-run along the concrete path leading across the island. A steady and cold drizzle beat against his bare face. He yawned, still exhausted from their mission to recover the infected child.
He stopped to take in the view of the two guard towers on the north side of the island. The concrete structures protruded out of the ground, large spotlights sweeping the shoreline beyond. A random flash of lightning lit up the skyline and illuminated the fortress of walls built around the hexagon-shaped base. He suddenly felt like a prisoner trapped inside a maximum-security prison.
But soon that would all change. He was on his way to meet with Gibson and secure their ride back to Fort Bragg.
Thunder boomed in the distance, rattling the ground as Beckham continued walking. He approached a pair of guards standing outside the administration building with his badge at eye level.
One of them, a skinny, dark-skinned man, stepped under the light and studied it. He looked at Beckham’s face, and then nodded. “All clear, Master Sergeant.”
Inside, another pair of guards waited. They repeated the same process. “Follow us, please, Master Sergeant,” one of them said.
Beckham peered into each office as they walked. They were all empty, the lights inside dim. When they reached the far end of the hall, the two soldiers stopped. The smaller of the two gestured toward the last door in the hall; just then, alarmed voices rang out behind them.
The guard unstrapped his rifle. “I’ll check it out,” he said, nodding at the other soldier.
Beckham stiffened and listened.
“I want to see Colonel Gibson.” The raised voice was familiar. Female.
“Kate?” Beckham whispered. He took a step back from the door. There she was, at the other end of the hallway, arguing with the first two guards in her best Don’t fuck with me right now voice. Ellis stood behind her sheepishly, his mouth moving but no words coming out.
“You’re not listening, doctor. You can’t see Colonel Gibson,” the guard on the left said.
“No. You’re not listening!” Kate replied.
Beckham decided to intervene.
“I’m sorry, Doctor Lovato, but—” the soldier began to say when Beckham put his hand on the man’s thick shoulder.
“Let her through,” Beckham said.
The man regarded him with a quick glance and then backed away.
Kate and Ellis shoved past the man. Both of them were breathing hard, like they had run the entire way to the building.
“What’s this all about?” Beckham asked.
“You’re about to find out,” Kate replied. Her face was flushed red. She walked briskly toward the colonel's office and entered without knocking; Beckham followed right behind her.
Inside Gibson was standing, his arms crossed, his features darkened. “Doctors,” he said in a low voice.
Beckham stood in the doorway, blocking the two guards from entering. He crossed his arms and waited.
“We know,” Kate said. “Did you really think the truth wouldn’t come out?”
Gibson exhaled a deep sigh that sounded like relief more than dread. Then he slowly sat down in his chair and reached for a pack of cigarettes. He jammed one in his mouth and said, “I knew you would find out.”
Kate shook nervously as she spoke. “The Hemorrhage virus is a bioweapon, a weapon that you had designed.”
Beckham stepped forward. “What’s she talking about, Colonel?”
The man held up a hand. “Let her finish.”
Kate glanced back at Beckham with a look of uncertainty. He gave her the shortest of nods and she took a step closer to Gibson’s desk.
“Doctor Medford created a hybrid nanostructure by bonding nanoparticles loaded with VX-99 to a genetically modified Ebola virus. At first we didn’t see them. I suspect that was the point. The weapon was supposed to be untraceable. And with the endothelial cells reacting differently than they do in other strands of Ebola, I was almost convinced he had created a partial cure. I had my suspicions, but I had secretly hoped that the other scientists were right, that he was working on a cure and had created the Hemorrhage virus by accident.”
Catching her breath, Kate shook a finger and then continued, speaking more rapidly. “But what didn’t make sense were the other changes. The sucker mouths, the distorting of the bodies, the vertical pupils, the morphed hands and feet. Nothing made sense. It wasn’t until we sent samples to Toxicology that we discovered the truth. It was then we found the epigenetic changes.” Her hands shook as she approached the colonel’s desk.
“That weapon!” she choked. “Your weapon!” She narrowed her eyes. “It turned my brother into a monster! It killed Michael, and it’s rapidly killing the rest of the world!”
Beckham put a hand on Kate’s left arm. She was shaking uncontrollably now.
“And you!” Kate pointed a finger at Gibson. “You were the one that ordered Doctor Medford to design the bioweapon.”
“I fucking knew it,” Beckham said. He stood by Kate’s side, supporting her like he should have done from the second they walked in the room.
“She's right, isn't she, Colonel?” Beckham said.
Gibson very calmly took the unlit cigarette from his mouth and placed it on the wood surface. In the same calm voice he said, “Yes, she’s right.”
Silence filled the room. A cricket chirped outside, and then the noise faded away.
“You’re right,” Gibson said again. He stood and looked at them in turn. “I never meant for any of this to happen. When I sent Team Ghost to Building 8, I was trying to stop
this from happening. Doctor Medford’s last message said he created something that was too contagious.”
“But it got out,” Kate said. Her breathing was steadier now.
The colonel nodded. “I ordered Doctor Medford to create a bioweapon that could be used in hot spots around the world. I wanted to end the need for American soldiers on foreign soil. Too many of our sons have died in sandboxes that aren’t worth a fucking shit. My son died…”
Beckham narrowed his eyes at the failing man in front of him. Saliva webbed across the colonel’s open mouth. He tried to speak, but only a croak came out. His eyes fell to the floor, his head downcast. The blood of so many was on his hands, including three members of Team Ghost.
Beckham felt his right fist moving at his side. He wanted to strike the colonel. God, it would feel good, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The sobering truth was that Gibson had been motivated by the death of his only son in Iraq. His justification of the bioweapon program wasn’t much different than the missions of other weapon programs. The Manhattan Project was designed to save American lives and force the Japanese to surrender. It sounded insane, but the broken man in front of them now wasn’t much different in Beckham’s eyes than anyone that had created a weapon of mass destruction.
“Why?” Kate whispered. “Why didn’t you tell us what we were dealing with?”
“I didn’t know!” Gibson said, his voice snapping. He looked to Beckham. “That’s why I sent his team into Building 8. If I had known, I would have handed you the info on a silver platter!”
There were footfalls from the hallway. Lieutenant Colonel Jensen and Major Smith burst into the room, shoving Ellis out of their way.
“What the hell is going on here?” Jensen asked.
Colonel Gibson bowed his head in defeat and in a low voice said, “Doctor Lovato can tell you.”
Jensen scratched his chin and eyed Kate. After a brief pause he said, “Well, is someone going to fill me in?”
“The Hemorrhage virus is a bioweapon,” she replied. “And your boss was the engineer.”
The lieutenant colonel’s eyes shot up to meet Gibson’s. He nodded confidently, a final moment of strength in a career that had spanned decades. “You’re in charge now,” Gibson said. He held out his wrists and said, “Lock me up and destroy the fucking key.”
“Sergeant Singh,” Jensen said without taking his eyes off of Gibson.
One of the guards from earlier stepped into the room. “Yes, sir,” he said.
“Take Colonel Gibson into custody.”
Singh hesitated.
“That’s an order, Sergeant,” Jensen snapped.
Beckham scrutinized Gibson as the guard grabbed him under one arm. Flashbacks tore across his mind. The briefing on the Osprey, the pile of bodies in Building 8, and finally Tenor’s terrified face as the bioweapon consumed him. In a blind fit of rage, Beckham placed his right foot forward, twisted, and threw a punch that landed square on Gibson’s jaw.
The colonel collapsed. Sergeant Singh faltered trying to catch Gibson’s limp body and both men ended up on the floor.
“That’s for my men,” Beckham snarled.
Gibson whimpered out a reply. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m sorry for everything. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
Jensen shot Beckham an angry glare that overshadowed what looked like a smirk. The two men shared a moment, something passing between them that only a soldier would recognize—an understanding. Beckham had done exactly what Jensen had wanted to do.
“Get him out of here,” Jensen said.
A second guard bent down and helped Singh drag the colonel out of the room. As they were leaving, Gibson paused and looked at Kate with a pair of glazed eyes.
“Find a cure,” he said. Then he looked at Beckham and said, “I’m sorry, but Fort Bragg is gone. I just heard an hour ago.”
And then he was gone, leaving Beckham and Kate standing in shock at the news.
-20-
April 24th, 2015
DAY 7
Beckham stormed out of the building, the weight of the news about Fort Bragg and the source of the outbreak tearing him apart. He rushed back to the barracks, his boots sloshing in puddles left over from the afternoon’s storm. He wasn’t sure how he would break the news to Horn. How do you tell a man his family is dead? The burden he carried was unlike any he’d ever had to endure. He felt responsible; he had told Horn to bring his family to the post, arguing they would be safer there.
His heart ached with every beat, the pain tugging at every muscle. He’d learned a long time ago how to suppress these feelings, but none of that worked right now. The end of the world had broken him. Beckham had had no one left besides his men and Horn’s family. Now they were almost all gone, stripped away in a little over a week.
He suddenly felt the same overwhelming dread that had devoured him when his mother died. There was no mistaking the awful sensation. It was a darkness that he’d worked so hard to shake, and now it was back. He couldn’t let it consume him. He wouldn’t let it consume him.
Flooded by a surge of emotion, Beckham broke into a jog, the anger growing as he thought about Gibson and what he had done. His knuckles ached from where they had connected with the man’s jaw, but goddamn, did it feel good.
As an operator, Beckham had seen the worst the human race had to offer. Warlords in Africa and religious sects who kidnapped children and raised them as soldiers, dictators who crushed their opposition by murdering their opponents, terrorists who didn’t care how many innocent civilians they killed. Bioweapons took evil to an entirely new and horrific level, and Beckham didn’t care what the colonel’s motivations had been.
He stopped outside the barracks to gather his thoughts. He still wasn’t sure how he would break the news to Horn.
“You okay?” came a voice behind him. He spun to find Kate standing on the circular concrete drive outside the building, her hands in the pockets of her white trousers. She approached him slowly, regarding him with glazed, dull eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Beckham said.
“Needed to see a friendly face. Especially after what just happened back there.”
“The man will burn for his crimes,” Beckham replied. “I’ll make sure of that.”
An abrupt hollow roar shook the ground. Beckham felt it in his bones, knowing the sound instantly. He scanned the horizon and saw several bright flashes on the mainland.
Kate gasped at the sight. “They're bombing again?”
“What the hell’s left to bomb?” Beckham said, shaking his head.
Another succession of flashes burst across the dark skyline. Deep booms followed. Beckham caught a glimpse of several jets racing away from the city. They were just specks, their blue exhaust trails fading into the night.
The concussions steadily increased, the ground shaking around them. Beckham felt every blast. He flinched with every flash.
“How did it come to this?” Kate asked solemnly. She backed away from the view and stood next to him.
“Gibson,” Beckham replied. “I always feared something like this would happen, that someone higher up would do something stupid and send the world to hell. I just never thought it would happen on our doorstep.”
A powerful tremor shook the pavement and a brilliant red arc lit up the sky. Beckham shielded his eyes from the blast.
“This still seems so surreal,” Kate replied. “It’s chaos out there, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“Where will you go next?” Kate asked.
“I don’t know,” Beckham said, shaking his head. “Fort Bragg is gone. My home—” Another round of explosions cut him off. He used the moment to scan her eyes for the truth and said, “Knowing what you do now, can you stop this thing?”
Kate looked away. Her eyes swept the skyline and then dropped back to the ground. “I don’t know,” she replied.
Three flashes lit up the horizon. Kate watched them and said, “I
don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this.”
Suppressing the dark feelings that had emerged earlier, Beckham pulled on the strength that had carried him through every difficult situation.
“You can do this, Kate,” Beckham said, facing her. “You’re stronger than you think you are. I watched you back in Atlanta. Here on the base. You are alive because of your courage and your strength. We need you.”
Kate blinked and slowly nodded.
He reached forward and squeezed her hands, forcing her to hold his gaze.
“You may be our last hope,” he said.
They stood there silently. Beckham finally knew what his new mission was. Protect the living—protect Kate, Ellis, Riley, and Horn.
“You’re right,” Kate said. “I need to get back to work.”
Before he could respond she took off running toward Building 1, leaving him to watch the world burning on the horizon.
Lieutenant Colonel Jensen spat on the concrete, wiping a strand of chewing tobacco that had dripped down his chin. Grabbing the metal railing, he climbed the two flights of stairs to the CIC that looked out over the island. He still couldn’t quite believe the Hemorrhage virus was a bioweapon. After working with Colonel Gibson for the better part of a decade, he’d believed him when he said the work at Building 8 was to protect national security.
Jensen looked out over the base. He gripped the railing so hard that his knuckles turned white. Guard towers and layers of electric fences surrounded the domed labs.
Extinction Horizon (The Extinction Cycle Book 1) Page 24
