Fitz pushed himself up fast—a bit too fast. Pain flashed across his back, reminding him of the injuries and damage his body had never quite had the chance to recover from. The soreness quickly faded, replaced by joy at the sight of his friend and mentor. He and the rest of Team Ghost followed quickly after Rico toward his old friend, anxious to talk to the man that had once been the leader of the Delta Force Team Ghost.
Beckham walked toward them with a slight limp on his way to embrace Rico.
Despite his limp and the prosthetic hand, Beckham looked pretty good to Fitz, if not a bit older. His perpetual five o’clock shadow had streaks of gray on his chin, and his hair was much longer. But his uniform was filled out well with hardened muscles.
“Captain, it’s great to see you,” Fitz said. He reached out to shake Beckham’s hand but Beckham wrapped him up in a hug like he had Rico.
“You know you’re not supposed to call me Captain,” he said. “I’m a civilian now.”
“You’ll always be the leader of Team Ghost to me.” Fitz smiled and patted Beckham on the back. “I’ve missed you, my friend.”
“I’ve missed you too, brother.”
They pulled away and Beckham looked Fitz up and down. “You look good,” he said. “Still got that baby face.”
Fitz stroked his chin and smirked. “Still can’t grow a beard, but Rico doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Not a fan of facial hair on myself or others,” Rico said with a grin. That got a laugh from the rest of the team. “No offense, of course, Captain.”
“None taken. Kate doesn’t seem to mind.”
“How is Kate and the rest of the family?” Rico asked. “And Big Horn and his girls?”
“The family is okay. So is Horn and his family…but we lost Jake Temper and twenty-two more people across Peaks Island and Portland in the attack.”
The grins on Team Ghost’s faces all vanished. Fitz said a mental prayer for Jake and the other victims, then quickly regained his composure.
Now was not the time to grieve—now was the time to prevent this from happening to anyone else.
“The raiders bombed Portland, too,” Beckham added. “Senator McComb was one of the victims.”
Fitz reached back up and stroked his chin nervously this time. Not only had they lost one of the best men Fitz had ever known, but they had lost a Senator aligned with the New America Coalition agenda.
“I can’t believe it,” Rico said, shaking her pink-streaked hair.
“How in the hell did they get past the defenses?” Lincoln asked.
“I suspect they had an inside source. They posed as civilians and drove right through gates in pickups,” Beckham replied. “Another group took a boat to Peaks Island.”
“And they all got away?” Mendez asked.
“The only raider we captured killed himself with Variant acid before we could question him,” Beckham said.
Lincoln reared back.
“Those people are worse than the monsters,” Mendez said, brows crunched together.
“That’s because they’re working with the monsters, aren’t they?” Rico asked. “That’s the only explanation that makes sense to me.”
“I think you’re right,” Beckham said. “They seem to be connected somehow, and that’s why I’m here. To find out and plan an offensive before they strike again…”
Fitz got the sense that wasn’t the only reason Beckham was here. It was an open secret that Ringgold had been recruiting him to run for office, and with McComb’s demise, he suspected the meeting with Ringgold wasn’t just a coincidence. But Fitz saved his questions for later. There would be plenty of time to catch up in private.
“You hungry?” Rico asked.
Beckham shook his head. “But I’ll sit with you guys.”
He sat across from Dohi. “How are you feeling, brother?”
Dohi shrugged. “I’ll live.”
“Not going to lie, I thought you were Variant chowder,” Ace said with a chuckle. His upper cheeks above his long white beard turned red when none of the other members found his statement amusing.
“Anyone ever tell you that you look like Santa Claus with those rosy cheeks?” Lincoln said.
Ace shrugged. “A skinnier version, yeah.”
Fitz frowned. The big guy really needed to learn when to joke and when to keep his mouth shut. So did Lincoln for that matter.
Picking up a fork, Fitz went back to eating his roast beef and mashed potatoes.
“On the flight here, I read your report on those tunnels,” Beckham said. “Most men would never have made it out alive.”
“Those people down there… I hope they didn’t survive, because if they did… Let’s just say hell couldn’t be any worse,” Dohi said.
Beckham leaned forward. “We’ve all seen some pretty horrifying stuff and, before this war is over, we’re going to see more. As painful as it is to talk about, that’s why we need to figure out what these tunnels are and more about the Alpha you killed.”
I just hope it’s not too late, Fitz thought.
“Officer on deck!” came a bellowing voice.
The sailors and soldiers all stood as General Souza and an entourage walked into the mess hall, boots clicking on the deck.
“Briefing room in fifteen minutes,” said Lieutenant Brian Festa, the liaison officer—LNO—from SOCOM.
Fitz grabbed his tray and followed the rest of the enlisted troops and sailors out of the mess in a hurry. By the time they got to the briefing room, the place was packed.
Fitz and Beckham went to the front to stand at a table with General Souza and President Ringgold. Secret Service agents flanked them, along with a middle-aged man in a lab coat that Fitz had never seen before.
While more people filed into the room the President shook hands with Beckham. They turned away from the crowd, speaking somewhat quietly within their group. Fitz was close enough to catch some of the conversation, something about Senator McComb and attending one of her speeches before he made up his mind.
When Beckham turned around, Fitz could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t happy. Fitz’s suspicions about the Senate race seemed to be right.
“Alright, people, let’s get started,” General Souza said. He swept a commanding gaze over the men and women in front of him. “We’ve got a hell of a situation on our hands, so I’m going to cut right to the chase. Three outposts have gone dark from Variant attacks, and three more were attacked by raiders.”
He motioned to Lieutenant Festa. The shorter man with puffy thin hair stepped over to a wall-mounted monitor. A map of the country came online. He tapped the touch screen and pulled up a five-state area.
“Outpost Turkey River, Iowa; Outpost Rapid City, South Dakota; and Outpost Kansas City, Missouri, have all gone dark,” Festa said. “Our recon teams discovered the Variants used tunnels to avoid our defenses.”
Hushed voices broke out in the room.
“Quiet,” Souza said.
Festa waited a moment and then continued. “Three more outposts were attacked by raiders, but they were all on the East Coast. Needless to say, we believe these attacks are all connected.”
Souza picked up when Festa paused. “The pattern of these attacks suggests there is some sort of connected network here in the Midwest. We still don’t know how the Variants are communicating over such large areas or with the human collaborators.”
Festa touched the monitor again, this time bringing up a map of the northeastern seaboard.
“The raider attacks hit outposts in the following areas,” Festa said. “Portland, Maine. New Boston, Massachusetts. Providence, Rhode Island. Casualties are still coming in, but we’re already in the hundreds.”
More voices broke out around the room. The numbers were chilling. After years of only the stray Variant attacks and random raiders, the news was beyond devastating to the men and women that had fought for peace.
Especially President Ringgold.
She stood at the front of the
room, stiff and proud. But the pallor that had overcome her face belied her confident posture. She was clearly horrified at what was happening in the final months of her administration. Her entire legacy was at stake, not to mention the future of the country.
“We expect casualties to continue rising, and we’re also preparing for more attacks,” Souza said.
Fitz studied the map on the wall-mounted screen, trying to come up with a theory of what was happening. Unless the Variants had evolved to use radios, and their transmissions were somehow encrypted, he had no freaking idea how they could be coordinating over such a large territory.
“We now believe many of the Variant kidnappings over the past few years weren’t for food,” Souza continued. “Personally, I believe these kidnappings were to create a small army of raiders that were utilized the other night to inflict terror.”
Fitz wasn’t surprised. He had met a few collaborators in his day. Most were batshit crazy after being held hostage by the monsters.
The General paused and looked over at the man in the lab coat. “This is Doctor Jeff Carr. He will be working with Doctor Kate Lovato to figure out exactly what we’re dealing with, starting with the Alpha Variant from Outpost Turkey River and the other samples our teams have retrieved.”
“Thank you, General,” Carr stepped up to the monitor and brought up an image of the beast that the Navy had stored in a freezer a deck below their feet. Fitz had already seen it up close and personal but seeing it on screen still sent a chill up his spine.
“This is an Alpha that no one has seen before now,” Carr said. “Based off our field reports and my research, it seems to use echolocation to find prey. We also believe that the fibers attached to its spine may have something to do with the strange webbing found in the tunnels our recon teams found.
“We’re not quite sure what the purpose of those fibers are. If you should meet one in the wild, any observations are appreciated. Other than that, all I can say is that you should expect the unexpected with these new monsters.”
President Ringgold stepped up. “I was hoping the worst days of humanity were behind us,” she said. “But again, we are faced with another threat to our species.”
Fitz felt a sense of déjà vu and could almost guess what was coming next.
“I’ve decided to send in recon teams for more intel before we mount an offensive or reach out to our allies for help,” Ringgold continued. “General Souza is in the process of putting together teams, and I’ve authorized the deployment of our main fighting force to be evenly distributed to the ninety-eight outposts to help guard them from future attacks.”
Fitz appreciated her proactive approach but wondered if she knew something he didn’t. Deploying all of the troops?
“Operation Shadow will start in a few hours,” Ringgold said.
She swept her gaze over the hardened soldiers, sailors, and Marines.
“Make no mistake, ladies and gentleman, this new threat may be the greatest we have faced since the first days of the Hemorrhage Virus,” Ringgold said. “It will be up to you to help stop it before we lose everything we have fought to rebuild.”
Fitz and Beckham exchanged a glance as two old friends and warriors. Both of them knew exactly what this meant.
No rest for Team Ghost.
They were headed back into the fray.
***
Dohi knelt in the knee-high grass. The blades were already golden, dried by the onslaught of cooler weather striking Outpost Duluth in Minnesota. Between the crushed stalks of grass were the unmistakable taloned footprints of the Variants.
Just like General Souza had feared, the Variants had continued their assaults, reaching all the way into northern Minnesota. This was just the latest attack, occurring only hours after their briefing on the USS George Johnson.
Team Ghost stood in the overgrown practice baseball and softball fields at the University of Minnesota Duluth. The campus had been retrofitted over the years into a fortified outpost, complete with chain-link fences, razor wire, and all the electronic surveillance equipment the military had given them.
Unlike Outpost Turkey River and Outpost Rapid City, the defenses had held, and only a handful of monsters had managed to get inside before they were repelled and forced to retreat.
The emergency alert system the Ringgold administration had provided to all of the outposts had helped, too, and this one knew trouble was coming from the quick acting alert.
But Dohi had a feeling it was really the two platoons of Army Rangers working with the militia that had saved this place from falling.
A group of Rangers were helping treat civilians across the field, some of which had lost loved ones in the fighting. The sobs and cries of pain drifted in the blustering winds.
White sheets covered the bodies of the deceased in neat rows.
Dohi and Team Ghost made their way across the field.
“Who’s in charge here?” Fitz called out.
An Asian man with broad shoulders looked over his shoulder and then walked over to Fitz.
“That would be me,” he held out a hand to Fitz. “Sergeant Randall Chung with the 3rd Battalion.”
“Master Sergeant Fitzpatrick with Team Ghost.” Fitz gestured at the other men and Dohi nodded.
“Glad to have you with us, Master Sergeant,” Chung said. He sighed and gestured to the bodies. “We did what we could, but we couldn’t stop all of the Variants once they tunneled in.”
“Wish we’d gotten here sooner,” Mendez said.
Chung adjusted his chin strap. “You guys have any idea on where all these beasts are coming from?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Fitz said.
Dohi walked over to a hole near home plate while Fitz and Chung spoke. He flicked on his tactical light and shone it down into a passage covered in the glistening red webbing.
The nightmares of what he had seen in those tunnels at Turkey River flashed through his mind. He felt a pang of nausea as images of the half-buried people with tendrils growing from their mouths and out of their orbital cavities passed through his mind.
“You, okay, bro?”
Dohi looked back at Mendez who stood with his rifle cradled. They rejoined the rest of the team at the tail end of the conversation.
“Did the Variants escape with any people?” Fitz asked.
“None that we know of, but we haven’t accounted for all civilians yet,” Chung said.
“Did you see any Alphas?” Fitz asked.
“Caught one.” Chung pointed toward the opposite side of the field where the Rangers had dumped the remains of the beasts.
The team made their way over to corpses riddled with bullet holes, their gray flesh even paler in death. Unseeing reptilian eyes staring up at the cloud-covered sky.
Dohi checked the barreled chest of an Alpha. It was the same type that he had fought at Outpost Turkey River.
“Have your men started searching the tunnels yet?” Fitz asked.
“No,” Chung replied. “We’ve been too busy cleaning up this mess. But we’ve got an R2TD setup and ready to go to look for others.”
Chung motioned to one of the red brick-covered buildings.
“Thomas, Watson, get the R2TD over here,” he called.
Two of the Rangers began setting up the equipment.
“You all used one of these before?” Chung asked.
“I got some experience,” Ace said.
“Then be our guest. It’ll be more effective to have you guys on this one than us. I want to make sure we’re prepared for another attack.”
Ace jogged over to the two Rangers. They strapped the pack over his back and handed him the tube-shaped radar device.
“If we’re going to prevent this from happening again, then we need to find out where these tunnels are coming from,” Fitz said. “That’s the only way we can launch an effective offensive.”
“Whatever it takes,” Rico said.
“Man, we’re going underground?
” Lincoln mumbled.
“You ever stop complaining?” Mendez gave Lincoln a questioning glare.
“I mean…not really,” Lincoln smirked.
A cold wind howled over the open field, a harbinger of the winter that was only weeks away, silencing the team. Dohi thought he heard something else on the wind. Like the distant moan of someone in pain.
Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Those images of his time in the tunnels flashed through his thoughts again.
He did not want to go back underground again either but, if Fitz gave the order, he would do whatever it took, just like Rico had said.
“Good luck,” Chung called out.
Fitz led the team toward the edge of the university campus. Chain-link fences and razor wire marked the border. Two of the town’s militia soldiers pulled back a mechanized gate to let Team Ghost through.
Ace studied the screen of the R2TD as they marched south, following the curve of Lake Superior into the city of Duluth.
Houses lined the streets around them. Most seemed to have been vacant for years. Broken glass stuck up in shards around rotted window frames. Some were burned down to their foundations, now nothing more than piles of charcoaled debris.
Ace led them between the lawns of abandoned structures until they reached a wide park with tall trees. Canopies of leaves the shades of fire rustled in the wind.
“Tunnels end here,” Ace said, looking up from his screen, perplexed.
“Not quite,” Dohi said.
He bent next to a hole in the ground about as big as his waist. Several braided ropes of red tissue protruded from the edge and stretched across a creek.
Taking off a glove, he then traced his fingers over the rope of red webbing. Electricity practically flowed to his hand. The individual threads within the organic cables pulsed slightly, pushing back against his skin.
“They didn’t dig under the water,” Dohi said. “Maybe they were smart enough to know they’d risk collapsing the tunnel.”
“That webbing…” Mendez started.
“Keep following it,” Fitz said.
Dohi lifted his rifle to his shoulder again. He pushed into water that rose up to the middle of his shins. The bank on the other side of the creek crested slightly. He scurried over the mud, still following the red tendrils.
Extinction Cycle: Dark Age Box Set | Books 1-4 Page 17
