“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Joey whispered a little too loudly for her comfort.
Karen’s head snapped toward the bolted door. She listened for heavy footsteps, a snarl, an echoing shriek—any sound that would show that her son’s voice had betrayed their location.
Something clattered below, like a steel pole plunging down a gap in the staircase, crashing against the old iron bannister as it descended.
She tensed, glanced back to Joey.
He gave her his doe-eyed look.
She pressed a finger to her lips once more and focused back on the door, expecting it to burst open at any second.
Roughly a minute passed.
Nothing came.
Then two.
Still no creatures. No sounds nearing the top flight of stairs.
Karen waited a little longer before she let out a deep breath through puffed cheeks.
They hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so she understood her son’s discomfort; he was used to regular meals. Lunch had been the next item on the agenda when the creatures attacked. The comfort of Fisherman’s Wharf now seemed like a distant memory. A past life, away from this unfolding horror. And while they usually brought snacks, they’d abandoned them with the stroller in the street below.
Her stomach had also growled during their hours on the roof, though it seemed a trivial issue compared to leaving their temporary safety for food and water.
Only for so long if we want to stay alive.
“Mommy, I’m scared.”
She peered over her shoulder and gave him her serious look—the one usually reserved for refusing him McDonald’s if he didn’t pick up his toys. Their survival likely depended on his silence. However, there was no way of explaining the gravity of their situation to a boy of his age and expecting him to understand.
Joey covered his face with his dirty hands and quietly sobbed.
That was marginally better than talking.
Karen’s heart broke for him, but her priority was both of their immediate survival. She continued her crawl and reached the edge of the roof.
On Lombard Street below, everything remained still. To the right, the static logjam of battered cars. Corpses spread around them, deathly still among the bushes or on the sidewalk, all in gruesome twisted shapes. Some were unrecognizable as human beings.
The left end of the street painted a similar picture.
The Norwegian Pearl cruise ship aimlessly floated in the golden bay. As it was preparing to depart the dock, creatures must have attacked and slaughtered the passengers. Earlier that morning, Karen had spoken to a few excited passengers who were boarding the same ship. Apparently it was a comedy cruise, organized by the guys from a popular cable TV show. Nobody would be laughing now.
She squinted her eyes at the sign of movement in the water.
A lone swimmer. One survivor.
His arms desperately cut into the gentle swell as he attempted to swim away from the ship and back toward the wharf. The man eventually reached it and climbed to the concrete. Bald head, wearing a soaked black T-shirt and gray jeans. He hunched, rapidly looking in all directions, then sprinted out of view. Moments later, a Tesla driven by the same man roared past as he made his escape. Perhaps there would be one survivor of the cruise after all, if he managed to escape the city.
An earsplitting shriek broke her from watching the Tesla wind its way through the static cars. She immediately flinched. Looked down.
Directly below, a massive creature stared up at her from the street, tail wafting from side to side, talons opening and closing. Bloodstained teeth bared.
In the blink of an eye, it bolted inside the apartment building entrance.
Oh shit.
The creature saw her on the roof. That’s undoubtedly where it was headed now. They had to hide somewhere else, fast. They had been compromised and staying here spelled a brutal end.
Karen scrambled to her feet.
“What’s wrong?” Joey asked.
She didn’t reply. Instead, she scooped him up into her arms. He protested, but Karen shushed him and patted his back while she sprinted across the roof to the door.
A primal scream rang out from the lower floors. She caught the edge of a black figure powering up the stairs at an unbelievable speed.
Her body trembled. She could barely breathe. Joey wriggled in her grip.
They had to move.
Karen raced down a single flight of stairs and found herself on the top floor of the building. All four apartment doors were hanging on their hinges, having been previously battered open.
The creature would reach this point in seconds.
An acrid stench filled her nostrils as the monstrosity approached.
Sacrificing myself to give Joey time to escape won’t work. He’s too small, too young. I’ll only prolong his death for a few painful seconds. He’d watch me get cut to ribbons in front of his eyes, so his last sight would be a nightmare.
Still, she wasn’t left with many options. She could hear the creature racing up the stairs. Karen dove into the first apartment, turned, and kicked the door closed behind her.
The lock had been smashed and it wouldn’t shut.
Footsteps hammered on the floor directly below.
Snarls.
She turned and headed along the hallway into the main living area. The stench of copper mixed with burning food hung in the air.
“Don’t look,” Karen whispered in Joey’s ear.
He buried his face into her shoulder.
She took a second to get an appreciation of her surroundings, searching for a place to hide. It was their only option. She wasn’t sure there was any point, but she was a mother and this was her son—she’d do everything in her power to protect him.
Still, the thought of hiding in here was almost too much to bear.
Pools of drying blood covered the wooden floorboards. A young man sat upright on a leather couch, butchered. His dead eyes stared upward. His chest cavity had been sliced open. The bottom half of his left leg rested against a Persian rug. The waist and legs of a woman, perhaps his wife, lay slumped over an open window. Maybe she had tried to jump for her life. Her upper half had made it, at least—it lay twenty floors down, smashed on the street.
A kitchenette lay to her right. Something black burned in the oven. If the window hadn’t been open, the apartment would be filled with smoke. As it was, a murk lingered everywhere.
Outside the apartment, the creature hesitated for a second, and she stiffened. But then it bounded up to the roof and smashed the door open. She could hear its pounding footsteps above the ceiling, could hear its guttural breaths as it hunted its prey.
As it hunts me and Joey.
Karen spotted a door to the left. She quietly moved across the kitchen to it, grimacing as she turned the handle, scared of making any noise.
The door quietly opened up to a bedroom. The bed was a queen-sized, wooden, Ikea-style frame. Hiding under it would make them easy to see. A dresser. A set of drawers.
And built-in cabinets.
Karen moved across to them and slid the door open. She quickly swiped dresses to one side, stepped inside with Joey, then closed the door behind them silently. Light radiated through the slats, casting white lines across their bodies.
The frustrated creature on the roof above slammed its feet down hard, causing the plaster in the ceiling to crack.
Her son looked into her eyes and opened his mouth. Karen cupped it before he could say anything. His rapid breaths warmed her palm. The tears streaming down his face rolled over the back of her hand.
Her own tears fell unimpeded.
The creature had reentered the building’s stairwell and approached the very apartment Karen was hiding in. The footsteps stomped closer. She was sure the creature had entered the apartment.
Karen’s body trembled with fear. Her slow breaths seemed too loud, even against the sound of the alarms coming through the living room’s open window.
T
he hanger for the dress she was leaning against shifted along the rail. She winced at the low, metallic scraping sound. Tried her hardest not to move a muscle.
A black figure moved past the doorway.
A moment of silence followed.
The silence was smashed by furniture crashing in the next room against the walls. The sofa crumbled against the kitchenette. A glass coffee table shattered to pieces. The creature was systematically tearing the place apart, looking for them. It would not stop until the hunt was complete.
And that meant they were dead.
She almost gave in then. Almost just opened the door and let the creature take them. End this dread and misery that was almost as brutal as the pain they were sure to suffer. But she held firm. She held Joey, and because of that, she held on to hope.
The creature appeared in the bedroom doorway, filling the space with its muscular frame. Its chest heaved. Its beady black eyes darted around, scanning every inch.
Karen gulped.
Effortlessly, the creature lifted the bed with its talons and flipped it into the air. The bed came crashing back down to the floor in pieces.
It tore apart the dresser. Clothes and particleboard flew everywhere.
There was only one place left to check.
The creature slowly turned toward the cabinet. It took a step forward and reached out an arm. Hot breath came through the gaps in the slats.
Karen squeezed Joey tight. She prayed for a miracle.
This is it.
I love you, she said to Joey in her heart, still afraid to make any noise. The slats darkened with the bulk of the creature—
Suddenly, a deafening screech filled the room.
The ink-black nightmare stopped, its talons only inches from the cabinet door. Inches from Karen’s sweat-drenched face.
Then it inexplicably turned its back on her as a new, smaller creature—perhaps half the size of the larger one—came in.
The small creature bellowed again, and whatever it communicated sent the bigger one bounding out of the apartment. Shortly after, the smaller creature left the bedroom and followed its companion outside. The sound of claws down the stairs echoed in the otherwise silent building.
She still didn’t dare move an inch.
For the next half hour, Karen and Joey stood in the cabinet, both straining to hear any ominous sounds in the building.
None came.
While waiting, she tried to process what she had seen. It was as if the larger creature was taking orders from the smaller one, like a soldier follows a general’s orders to fall back in line. It was the only thing that made sense, considering the circumstances.
But these are animals . . .
Aren’t they?
The thought of their coordinated intelligence sent a shiver down Karen’s spine.
But for now, they were still alive. A small trickle of relief had now turned into a torrent. Joey had calmed down, too. He played with a coat hanger while mumbling his favorite tune.
Darkness had now enveloped the city and the apartment. Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.
Whatever the situation, the lack of creatures in the near vicinity meant she could give Joey some food and water from the kitchenette.
Karen hoped it wouldn’t be their last supper.
Chapter Nine
President Amanda Brogan stared at the monitors in the conference room of Air Force One in disbelief. She’d been intently studying them for the last few hours. A dozen screens displayed a dizzying array of satellite and drone footage, air traffic, live feeds from cities, and global communications. The Joint Chiefs sat around the table, digesting the latest information.
Despite the cool air-conditioning, she dabbed her forehead with a handkerchief. They were airborne and safe for now, but with nowhere to go.
Vice President Webster and General Robert Emmer both gazed up at the largest screen in the conference room. It displayed a green map of the United States, covered in misshapen red blotches, like tracking the spread of a contagious disease. But in this case, the disease was the creatures, and she knew each red mark undoubtedly meant millions of Americans dead.
“Updates, General?” she asked.
“Most of our ships have now made it to sea, Madam President,” General Emmer said. “Bases away from the big cities are still operational. The air force is at eighty percent strength, and most of our fighters are airborne. The overseas recall is under way.”
“How long can the fighters stay in the air?”
“They refuel every two hours. We’ve identified sites away from the outbreaks for them to land.”
“Excellent. Thank you.”
“I’d say we were lucky that the creatures targeted mostly the big cities, but lucky isn’t the right word,” Emmer continued. “Especially for the inhabitants.”
“No, lucky isn’t the word I’d use. How long before this map is all red?”
Emmer let out a deep sigh. “Tracking their current spread, I’d estimate one week, Madam President.”
“One week?”
“Again, if we’re lucky.”
Brogan felt sick to her stomach. She watched the heat map as she crossed the room, and a chilling thought crossed her mind. Each of the engulfed cities previously had a bomb planted underneath it by the Foundation for Human Advancement. Planted by Van Ness.
The bombs would’ve killed millions. But they would have also destroyed the nests in the process, effectively stopping the current genocide with a genocide of their own. What Van Ness called during his court case “acceptable collateral damage, killing millions to save billions,” now appeared on the money.
Did we have time to evacuate the cities and carry out the same strategy? Were we arrogant fools to discount him as insane?
Brogan shook her head. No, I can’t think like this. No president in history would sanction the evacuation and nuclear bombing of so many American cities. Hindsight was an unproductive vice in the current global disaster. Dwelling on the ifs or buts wouldn’t change a damned thing. Her hope was that if Albert Van Ness truly had intelligence to see this coming, then he’d also put a contingency in place. Because right now all she could think of was bombing the cities from above and hoping that did enough to destroy the creatures.
Because it would surely destroy the country.
“How close is Cafferty?” she asked.
“Madam President,” General Emmer replied, “the SB-1 Defiant helicopter is approaching Albert Van Ness’ prison rig as we speak.”
“Thank God.”
The turbulent air rocked the chopper’s body. Rain hammered against its windows. Below, the Atlantic Ocean roared. Flashes of gray appeared on top of the angry swells as waves formed and crashed in the howling wind. Bile rose in Cafferty’s throat again. A string of saliva swayed from his bottom lip. Thankfully, this endless, vomit-inducing flight was nearly over. They were heading for a dim set of lights in the distant darkness, marking the prison rig’s location.
Not that the thought of landing on a rig in the middle of a hurricane—or whom he was supposed to meet on that rig—brought him any comfort.
“We’ll be there in two minutes,” one of the pilots said through Cafferty’s headphones. “Hold on tight.”
The switch from the military plane to the chopper at Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Station had been so very fast, Cafferty and his team had barely gotten any sleep. He rubbed his temples to try to force clarity into his mind.
He grabbed a bright red waterproof jacket from storage and quickly put it on. Van Ness would enjoy him walking in looking like a drowned rat. That wasn’t happening.
The chopper hovered over a bright yellow H on the listing platform for a brief, rocky moment before unsteadily lowering. When the wheels touched the ground, Cafferty whispered, “Thank God.”
Diego and Sarah nodded at him, and Ellen squeezed his hand. He nodded back. This was both an affirmation that they’d all made it and a temporary farewell to Tom—this w
as a meeting only he was invited to.
He flipped up the jacket’s hood.
One of the crew opened the side door and shouted above the engines, “Good luck, sir. See you shortly.”
Cafferty gave a thumbs-up.
He jumped out into the biting wind. Rain lashed his waterproof jacket, followed by a drenching, foamy sea spray. An entrance opened from the main building, sending a shaft of light across the platform. He jogged across to it, careful not to slide on the slippery metal grates.
A marine officer stood in the doorway and encouraged him inside. “Welcome to V.N. One, Mr. Cafferty.”
The officer shut the door and a welcoming warmth returned.
Cafferty took off the jacket and shook the raindrops onto the entrance grid. He turned and peered down a long, thin corridor, several solid doors lining either side. All the steel walls had been painted gunmetal gray. It was as if they’d figured out a color that was a visual mute button. The other thing he noticed was no sound, only the wind whistling outside and the roiling sea.
“Van Ness’ cell is at the end, sir,” the officer said. “Access code is 5760.”
“Copy,” Cafferty replied.
He walked slowly down the corridor, leaving the officer behind, moments away from seeing the man who had brought the world to the brink a year ago. Anger welled up inside him once again. If he had the opportunity, he’d punch the maniac in the face again to remember how good it felt.
Cafferty continued past a room full of bunks, a kitchen, a communications room, and other closed doors until he reached the final one. A white plastic sign on the door read albert van ness. He peered through the small, square Perspex window.
And there he sat. The butcher of Rapid City, Lincoln, and countless other places. The man who had ordered the destruction of the Z Train and killed hundreds of New Yorkers in the process. The man whose lack of action saw the creatures creating new ruins in the gleaming cities of America and beyond.
Cafferty clenched his teeth. Every instinct told him to punch in the code and finish what he should have done in Paris.
I should’ve left him to the creatures.
But he reminded himself that that wasn’t why he’d come. The world was falling fast. He had to rapidly ascertain if any useful intelligence actually existed.
Obliteration Page 5
