Dohi searched the sky with his binos. Seeing nothing, he pushed his NVGs up to scan the black.
“There,” Mendez said. He pointed to the east where helicopters flew low on the skyline.
“They’re heading toward the freeway,” Dohi said.
“I didn’t think reinforcements were coming,” Rico said.
“They aren’t,” Fitz said. “Those aren’t ours.”
He raised his rifle and took off.
“Where you going?!” Dohi called out.
“To help the Wolfhounds,” he said. “They’re going to be slaughtered.”
Dohi hesitated for a moment as realization sank in. The enemy must have called in reinforcements, and they were headed right for the Wolfhounds.
“Don’t leave me,” Hopkins whimpered.
Dohi helped him up, and the team followed Fitz away from the containers. They didn’t get far before the choppers came in low over the campus, rotor wash blasting the trees as they hovered above the freeway.
Barking machine guns rang out. Gunfire flashed like miniature lightning strikes as tracer rounds lit up the night.
The choppers flew back and forth, pounding the ground with fire, but they weren’t just firing at where Dohi judged the Wolfhounds’ positions were in the forest. The tracer rounds were cutting into buildings inside the campus, presumably where the cannibals were posted.
What the hell… Dohi thought.
One of the Black Hawks launched a blistering volley of rockets into an office building, tossing huge balls of fire into the sky.
For those few seconds, the campus was illuminated like it was the middle of the day. Dohi had never felt so helpless. He crouched with Hopkins, setting him against the side of a container.
If they tried running now and attracted the choppers’ attention, they would be shredded. All Team Ghost could do was shelter in the shipping containers and wait for the attack to finish.
The group took cover in the container with Hopkins and the Wolfhounds as the ground thumped from explosions. Dohi remained at the open door, peering out. He raised his rifle at a figure fleeing the battle. The man ran at a tilt, favoring his left leg, long skinny arms pumping.
Dohi moved his finger to the trigger, ready to fire.
But as the man drew closer, he recognized the frightened eyes and lanky body along with the AK-47 necklace dangling from his neck.
“Martin!” Dohi hissed.
The soldier didn’t respond and kept running. Dohi let his rifle drop on his sling and jumped out of the container, tackling Martin. He glanced up to make sure the choppers hadn’t seen the man sprinting.
Then he dragged Martin into the shipping container. Writhing, Martin tried to escape, clearly in shock.
“Calm the fuck down,” Dohi said.
Martin suddenly froze, staring at Dohi with frightened eyes.
“Where are the rest of the Wolfhounds?” Fitz asked.
Martin’s gaze flitted to Fitz.
“Martin,” Rico said. “Where’s the rest of your team?”
“Where the hell were you?” Martin said, his voice shaking. “You guys left us there. The lieutenant… my brothers… all of them are dead.”
***
The convoy had driven for what felt like hours and stopped a few times. Timothy couldn’t see what they were doing with the black bag over his head, but he could listen. So far what he had heard allowed him to figure out two things about the collaborators.
The first was they definitely had multiple encampments in Variant territory that they used to refuel and get updates from guards posted there. Timothy had no idea how they still had access to fuel, but he guessed they were stealing it from outposts. It was as if they had developed their own network of resources just like the Allied States.
Another thing he had figured out was that Outpost Portland wasn’t very close to the missile silo that the collaborators had turned into a base. Judging by the time that had passed, they were hundreds of miles away.
Rustling sounded in front of him, and his blindfold was suddenly ripped away. Timothy blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust. Outside, the world was bathed in darkness except for where the moonlight illuminated the convoy.
He sat in the backseat of a dual cab pickup with Alfred on his left, and another prisoner scrunched against the passenger side door.
Timothy looked out the windows, trying to get a sense of where he was, but Nick snapped his fingers from the front seat of the truck to command his attention.
“Here,” Nick said. He handed Timothy a water bottle. “Drink.”
Holding up his handcuffed hands, Timothy took it and downed a quarter of the bottle.
“Easy,” Nick said.
Timothy caught his breath, then drank more before handing the bottle back. Nick fished into a bag and pulled out a couple of sealed energy bars.
“Eat. You’ll need your energy,” Nick said.
Timothy took a bar, but ate slowly, trying to bide his time to see where they were headed. He couldn’t see much in the darkness, especially without the lights on.
The driver wore night vision goggles to see the road.
Smart, he thought.
The convoy turned again, and Timothy got a better view of the truck ahead. Cages were secured to the back of the pickups. Inside each stood the silhouette of a muzzled mutated dog.
He took a bite of the energy bar and chewed for a while, but his appetite was gone. It wasn’t hard to figure out what the collaborators had done to these poor beasts. Just like the bats that had been infected with VX-99, these mutant dogs had also been infected with a hybrid variant of the bioweapon.
Timothy forced himself to finish the energy bar, taking the nutrition not because his appetite had returned, but because Nick was right—he needed the energy.
But Nick didn’t know what Timothy was going to use it for.
The convoy moved onto a gravel road, and the driver slowed.
Nick turned around with the black bag in hand.
“Bend down,” he said.
Alfred took it and just as he was about to slip it over his head, Timothy spotted a sign for Highway 295. The road led directly to Outpost Portland.
Then Alfred secured the bag over Timothy’s head and the world went dark again.
Timothy closed his eyes, using the time to think of his dad. He was going to make his old man proud.
The next time the convoy stopped and Timothy’s bag was removed, the moon had risen higher into the sky.
It took a few blinks for Timothy’s eyes to adjust where he could see enough to know they were in a large park. There was a forest to his left and buildings to the right.
He recognized one with a steeple that stood out under the crescent moon.
They were here.
Outpost Portland.
Armed soldiers popped out of the vehicles and spread out to set up a perimeter while Pete spoke to Alfred. They were on the outskirts of the city.
Nick opened the door and Timothy got out, standing next to the other prisoner, who still hadn’t said a single word.
They waited near the truck while the other men unloaded vehicles and prepared their weapons. The growls of the caged dogs filled the night, rising over the low chatter of the soldiers.
Timothy shivered in the cool air. He was freezing even with the sweatshirt they had given him.
There was almost no light pollution over Outpost Portland. Only a few stubborn lights burned away the dark.
By this time tomorrow night, he had a bad feeling there wouldn’t be a single light left. If the collaborators were successful, it would be a scrapyard of the dead, torn apart by the mutated dogs.
At least Tasha won’t be there, he thought.
Using the weak glow of the moon, he counted thirty-one soldiers and twelve dogs. There were six trucks and the black muscle car with oversized tires.
Nick, Alfred, and Pete walked over to Timothy.
“All right, kid, listen up,” Nick said. “We�
��ve got a job for you.”
“I’m ready,” Timothy said confidently.
“Once we attack, you’re going in with us,” Pete said. “We’ll face a lot of resistance from the Army Rangers here. That’s where you come in.”
Alfred folded his arms over his chest, watching Timothy.
“All you got to do is tell them who you are when you get to the gates,” Nick said with a wide grin.
“What do you mean tell them who I am?” Timothy asked.
Nick spat on the dirt. “Don’t play me for a fool.”
“I’m not,” Timothy said. “Why do you think I could get us in?”
Reaching into his pocket, Nick pulled out a wallet.
“We found this on you when the Variants brought you to us,” Nick said. He tossed the open wallet at Timothy’s feet, exposing his ID that had his full name and address at Peaks Island.
“We know all about you, kid,” Nick said. “We know who your dad was and who your friends are.”
“Including your little sweetheart Tasha,” Pete said, puckering his lips and making a kissing sound.
Timothy boiled with anger, his face warming. The ID, he understood. But Tasha? How in the hell did they know about her?
“You know the soldiers at the command post, too,” Pete said. “We heard they even tried looking for you.”
Timothy wanted to rip their throats out with his bare hands, but he managed to keep still.
“They’re here,” someone called.
The welcome distraction got the men to leave Timothy with the other prisoner. As they walked away, the man spoke for the first time.
“Do what they say or they will kill that Tasha girl,” he mumbled. “They will kill everyone you love.”
They already killed the most important person in the world to me, Timothy thought.
“There is only one way to stop them,” the man said. “Destroy Mount Katahdin.”
“What?”
Timothy kept his eyes forward, trying to act like he wasn’t talking to the other prisoner.
“That’s where their base is,” he said. “Mount Katahdin. A top-secret nuclear silo that they took over after the war.”
Several soldiers walked close by and the man fell silent.
“Get the dogs ready,” one yelled.
Timothy tried to process what the prisoner had just told him. If true, he had the location of the collaborators. Something more valuable than their lives.
The dogs growled louder, snapping, saliva spraying from their snarling mouths until they were shocked into submission.
A driver got into the black car, and three men holding rocket launchers piled into the back of a nearby pickup. The two vehicles took off down the street and rounded a corner.
About half of the remaining men marched toward another street and fanned out, jogging toward the city and disappearing into the darkness. The rest of the men waited with the dogs.
“There.” A soldier pointed to the tree line.
The other soldiers all watched silently.
Timothy didn’t see anything at first. Then he heard the crunching joints, like snapping twigs and popping sucker lips. A pack of Variants bounded through the forest.
Not a pack…
In the moonlight, Timothy saw a small army of the beasts. Cold terror seeped through Timothy’s bones, but the beasts ignored the humans. They flowed through the collaborators like a river between stones.
Only one stopped, crouching, and then leaping to the top of a pickup truck. It dented the hood, claws scratching the metal.
Yellow, reptilian eyes darted back and forth in its sunken skull. Bulging lips opened, exposing jagged teeth.
The beast rose, sinewy muscles flexing across its pale, veiny flesh.
A roar sounded from the trees and Timothy saw the source—an Alpha Variant unlike any he had seen. Matted fur covered the monster, chunks of dirt crumbling off it.
It had huge ears that twitched when it let out a clicking sound. Unmoving, milky white eyes adorned an ugly vaguely ape-like face. Scything black claws curved out over its palms.
The creature on the hood looked over, screeching. Then it jumped to the dirt and bounded away with the other monsters.
“Stupid beast,” Alfred muttered.
Pete pointed a remote at Timothy and then pushed the button. A shock brought Timothy to his knees, his body convulsing.
Alfred helped Timothy back up a moment later.
“That’s on low,” Pete said. “I turn this baby up to high and you’ll cook from the inside out.”
Timothy shivered, electricity still coursing through his body. He lost control of his muscles, and his bladder voided itself.
Pete put the remote away and then got into the same pickup.
“Let’s go,” Alfred said.
He grabbed Timothy and the other prisoner, tossing them back in the truck. Nick hopped in the front and looked back.
“Put up his hoodie to surround the collar,” he said.
Alfred covered the shock collar while Timothy tried to calm his thumping heart. The rest of the collaborators moved out.
When they were gone, Nick looked at his watch. They waited for a few minutes, then drove onward, winding through abandoned streets. Timothy spotted the old fences that had once been the first layer of defenses protecting the outpost. They had collapsed in the road, and the metal crunched under the truck’s tires.
Timothy saw collaborator soldiers marching on the roads and then a pickup and the muscle car hiding out in an open garage. The other teams appeared poised for the attack.
Seconds ticked by, each one getting them closer to their target. Timothy gave up trying to control his rapid breathing and racing heart. Adrenaline and fear had taken control.
Nick turned from the front seat when the pickup stopped outside a warehouse.
“The first standing gate is about a quarter of a mile away,” he said. “Go there and get them to open the main gate.”
“You try anything, and I’ll make sure Tasha dies a very slow and brutal death while her sister watches,” Pete said. “Or, you help us, and we’ll spare most of the people here. Then you can be with your little girlfriend again.”
Timothy nodded. They certainly knew more about him than they had initially let on.
But there were some things these men didn’t know.
Tasha wasn’t here anymore, he knew where their base was located, and he didn’t have a damn thing to lose.
— 24 —
“Go back to your shelter,” Presley had said to Fischer in the command tent. “Let us handle the defenses.”
That had settled it for Fischer. He was sick of doing nothing and waiting for Team Ghost and the Orca soldiers to return with the Project Rolling Stone tech.
For centuries, older men had sent young men off to war. To fight their battles and die on the front lines. He used to be a coward like that, but not anymore. So long as he could wrangle cattle, he could fight for humanity.
So he had marched to the westernmost buildings on the border of Outpost Manchester, and climbed to the top of a twelve-story structure where he stood now with Tran and Chase. They had even managed to get two scoped M4s from the outpost’s armory.
If there was one thing they weren’t short of here, it was weapons.
Two Raven soldiers manned M134 Miniguns on pedestal mounts.
They didn’t seem to mind Fischer’s presence. He figured none of them would turn down an extra set of eyes or rifles tonight, and with Chase and Tran, he’d brought them three extra sets.
Sporadic gunshots echoed into the night, making one of the guards flinch. The bursts were followed by an animalistic scream.
Fischer’s nerves felt like icicles under his flesh as he searched for the source of the screams beyond the razor wire fence stretching across the streets below.
The noises faded into silence again.
Command had ordered the sirens off after the regular folk were moved to their shelters. The quiet
gave the guards a better opportunity to locate and identify the juveniles that had been spotted earlier, but it also made every scream all the more horrifying.
The silence now was eerie. It was the calm before the storm that he had experienced so many times before.
“You boys see anything?” Fischer asked.
One of the Raven soldiers, a bulky middle-aged man named Amir shook his head. “We’re still getting mixed reports of juvies. Sometimes I hear two or three packs of no more than five.”
“Other times, it’s fifty juveniles, all flowing through the trees like ghosts,” said Sherman. The blond bearded man grinned. “All I know is I got five thousand rounds a minute to unload on the fuckers.”
“They took out two of our scout teams so far, and the rest are pulling back now,” Amir said. “Should be heading our way soon.”
Fischer glassed the swaying grass and shadows beneath the tree-covered hills again. Occasional spotlights from other rooftops swept over the darkness, dispersing the shadows momentarily.
For several long minutes, they waited in tense silence. Fischer nearly forgot to breathe, trying to remain quiet enough to hear a crunching footstep in the foliage.
“I’ve got movement,” said Amir. He directed the M134 toward the tree line where a shape burst out.
Fischer nearly pulled the trigger, but then recognized the distinct shape of a human.
“That’s one of ours!” Sherman said.
Two more people followed after the first. All three limped and stumbled forward. Only the lead soldier seemed to have any weapons. He kept a rifle trained on the woods as he backpedaled to cover the other scouts.
The men stumbled into the street. Spotlights hit their blood-soiled fatigues.
“Open the gate!” one of the men yelled. “They’re right behind us!”
Amir grabbed both handholds of the mounted M134 and rotated it into position. “Get ready.”
“Contact at three o’clock!” Chase shouted. He fired a burst at something Fischer only glimpsed.
A second later, he too saw movement in the forest. Fischer aimed at a misshapen skull with bulging eyes. Long ropy muscles coursed along the body of the beast stalking the retreating scouts.
Fischer squeezed the trigger as more of the creatures spilled out of the woods, charging after the injured Raven scouts.
Extinction Cycle: Dark Age Box Set | Books 1-4 Page 61
