But those days were almost certainly over.
“It’s quiet,” Chase said just outside the door. He leaned against the truck, cradling his rifle. Moonlight glowed over the other soldiers guarding the truck.
“I’ve been praying for the quiet to last the night,” Fischer replied to Chase.
“Me too.”
A soldier jogged over and Fischer swung his legs out of the truck. It was Sergeant Dwyer stopping to do his rounds.
“See anything?” Dwyer asked.
“Nothing so far,” Fischer said.
“Good,” Dwyer said. “Only four more hours till sunrise, then I get to thaw my frozen balls.”
Chase chuckled. “I never looked forward to being awake for a sunrise as much as I have over the past few days.”
“Every day we’re alive is another to thank God for,” Fischer said.
“Yeah, well, tonight I’m thanking you for sticking with us, and watching over the outpost,” said the sergeant. “We’re more grateful than you know.”
“It’s our privilege,” Fischer said, downplaying the man’s compliment. He wasn’t one to readily accept high praise.
“This is our home, and these are our families, and neighbors,” Dwyer continued. “You could’ve cut and run like the others, but you didn’t.”
“We’re with you till the end,” Fischer said. “I just wish I had cigars and whiskey to offer you and the rest of the brave souls out here tonight.”
Dwyer smiled, but then his expression turned sour. “Morale was good until the president left, but we’ll make do.”
“She had no choice. If we lose her and that science team, the war is over.”
“Yeah…”
“We just got to hold out a little while longer,” Chase said.
Fischer didn’t want the conversation to sidetrack into something negative so he checked the vibroseis monitors for good news. The monitors revealed no sign of activity.
“Still nothing,” he said. “The science team must have done something remarkable down there.”
Dwyer shrugged. “I’ve heard too many promises of a cure or a new biological agent to stop the monsters. But every time we launch something like that at the enemy, they come back stronger than before.”
His radio crackled, and a voice broke over it.
“Delta One, this is Echo One.”
It was Sergeant Nguyen, who was now assigned to patrol outside the outpost.
“Go ahead Echo One, this is Delta One.”
Nguyen sounded out of breath. “We spotted contacts. Potential hostiles, and they’re headed—”
Static buzzed over the line.
“Echo One, do you read?” Dwyer asked.
Fischer’s heart pounded.
Dwyer spoke again, his tone more urgent. “Echo One, do you read? What’s going on?”
Still no response.
“So much for no activity,” Dwyer said with a grunt. He depressed the call button on his radio. “All Delta units, make ready. Potential hostiles in the area.”
Fischer scanned the monitors in the vibroseis truck. “I’m still not seeing anything.”
“Maybe it’s bats,” Chase said, scanning the sky.
“I don’t see shit,” Dwyer said.
Fischer grabbed a pair of binoculars from his dash and searched their surroundings. He checked the sniper nests and then searched the starlit bowl of black above, but saw nothing.
“Anyone got eyes?” Dwyer asked over the radio.
The replies all came back negative.
Chase nervously aimed into the distance with his rifle. Men along the barricades stood up at the ready.
“Come on, Echo One,” Dwyer tried again, pacing next to the truck. “Tell me—”
A crack split the air.
Dwyer’s face disappeared in a spray of broken bone and blood. His body slumped to the ground, twitching.
Fischer stared for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Everything around him seemed to slow. Adrenaline thundered through his vessels as flashes of gunfire exploded from the rooftops where the snipers were perched.
Soldiers on the ground scrambled to take cover from bullets lancing into their positions.
Rounds punched into the truck, forcing Fischer down.
For a moment, he lay crouched beneath the dash, trying to make sense of things.
Had their own snipers turned on them?
Were there collaborators in their midst all this time?
He snapped from the shock and grabbed his rifle. Carefully, he rose to scope the buildings. He quickly noticed the snipers firing on them were different than the ones he had seen earlier. And the positions where the outpost soldiers had been were dormant.
It was then he realized what was happening.
The collaborators had infiltrated the buildings, killed the outpost snipers, and were now raining hell down on the field.
More bullets slammed into the truck. Cracks spread through the windshield.
“Mr. Fischer!” Chase shouted.
“I’m okay, stay down.” Fischer grabbed his radio. “Command, this is Delta Two. We’ve got hostile contacts hitting our position from…everywhere!”
Another volley of bullets hit the truck. Smoke hissed out the hood as rounds punched into the engine block. The smell of oil and burning plastic filled the air.
Get out of there! A voice called in his mind.
It was his wife.
The bright glare of rockets flared from a building. Fischer watched them smash into the Bradley Fighting Vehicles. Balls of fire erupted from the two vehicles, flames billowing from the gaping wounds in their sides.
The staccato bark of the machine guns sounded as the outpost soldiers fought back. Tracer rounds cut through the black of night.
“Sir, we need to move!” Chase said, yelling above the din.
Fischer checked the dashboard.
The seismic monitors were still calm, belying the attack outside. They had been so concerned with a Variant attack that they hadn’t expected collaborators to infiltrate their defensive positions.
He considered abandoning the post, but his job was to watch for Variant attacks.
“Get in here,” Fischer said to Chase.
The soldier climbed inside, keeping low. “Sir, all due respect, but what the hell are we doing?”
“We aren’t running, that’s for sure,” Fischer said. “Now help me identify some of those targets.”
Chase aimed his rifle at the buildings, looking for hostiles. He reported them as he saw the muzzles flashes.
Fischer, in turn, reported them over the radio. “Contacts on the sixth floor of the Grayson apartment building.”
A wave of tracer rounds sprayed into the windows. The gunfire stopped, but the flash of another rocket flaring from an apartment pierced the dark above the sixth floor.
The rocket narrowly missed the vibroseis truck, bursting on the ground and sending up a geyser of dirt. Then came the gunfire.
Rounds punched through the metal. The glass shattered, spraying over Fischer.
Chase cried out in pain, gripping his thigh as blood pumped between his fingers. Pieces of glass rained down on Fischer as he crawled over to his wounded friend.
Chase tried to scoot closer.
“Stay down!” Fischer yelled.
He reached into one of his vest’s pockets, scrounging around for hemostatic bandages.
“Move your hand,” Fischer said. “We got to stop the bleeding.”
Fischer pushed down on the wound.
More bullets broke through the door, punching into Chase.
In the glow of the dashboard, Fischer saw the wild fear in his friend’s eyes. He choked something out, then fell to his side and pinned Fischer down.
More rounds hit the truck. Chase’s limp body jerked several times as bullets pierced his flesh.
“No,” Fischer sobbed.
Fischer stayed there for a moment in shock, staring in horror at his dead fr
iend covering him like a human shield.
Get out of there! RUN!
The voice of his wife didn’t snap him from the shock.
It was a bullet to the arm. He used his shoulder to push Chase off and then scooted across the blood-soaked floor of the truck.
Fischer tried to push himself against the dashboard, but another round hit his back, slamming him down. Despite the two injuries he couldn’t feel much pain. That was a bad sign.
When he tried to move his legs, he realized it was worse than he had thought. The round to his back had hit his spine.
This was the end of the road for him.
Alarms went off across the dashboard. He tried to crawl back toward it, realization hitting him as hard as those two bullets.
The collaborators had softened their defenses, and now the Variants were on their way. Tunneling underground to finish the outpost off.
Fischer struggled to breathe.
His mind swam, and he remembered that day before the war, back when he’d first visited President Ringgold to figure out if he would support her in the now-suspended elections.
He had been hesitant, seeing her as a leader who had ignored the Variants.
Now he realized he’d been wrong.
There was nothing they could have done to prevent this evil. What was happening wasn’t her fault. It was the fault of the evil men who had created the monsters.
The country was lucky to have a leader like Ringgold to make the tough decisions, to know when to fight, when to retreat, and when to rethink their strategies. Hopefully, she would work with General Cornelius to find a way to beat back the monsters.
But the fight for Fischer was over.
“Godspeed, Madam President,” he whispered. He crawled over and put a hand on his dead friend.
Using his other hand, he pulled out his revolver. His fingers brushed over the words engraved on the barrel, Monster Killer.
The alarms in the vibroseis truck blared again, and somewhere in front of the truck, the ground gave way. Clods of dirt exploded upward, showering the cracked windshield.
A demonic shriek erupted from the hole.
Fischer repositioned his body just as the door to the truck was ripped off and tossed aside. An ape-like face with milky white eyes looked inside. Ropey muscles bulged across the body of an Alpha.
Fischer aimed his gun, his shoulder screaming in agony. He pulled the trigger, firing into the creature’s chest. It staggered back with each shot, screaming in rage.
He fired again and again until the gun clicked, empty.
Blood poured from bullet holes in the barreled chest of the beast, but the abominable creature remained standing. It took a step forward, opening a mouthful of fangs.
Fischer reached for more bullets in his vest.
The Alpha took another step, reaching out for him when it was struck by a bright light. The beast looked to the left just before it vanished in a blur of metal.
Fischer lowered his gun and rested his head on the dashboard.
Voices called out among the gunfire.
One of them was familiar.
Commander Massey climbed inside the cab of the truck. Two men followed, and they carefully picked Fischer up. He was carried to the back of her pickup and gently put into the back of the bed.
He lay there, looking up at the dazzling sky, wondering if he had earned a spot up there, or if he would be going to hell.
No hell can be as bad as the one I’ve experienced here, he thought.
Fischer closed his eyes, and let the dark take him.
***
Making progress through the Center for Engineering Complex Organs facility was agonizingly slow for Dohi. Trying to watch his own back while sneaking through a building filled with enemy forces had required every ounce of focus and skill he had developed over the years.
So far, there were no clues leading to Fitz and Ace. And he knew he was running out of time—and so were they.
He had left a trail. Of bodies. They were scattered in the tunnel beneath the CECO and in the hallways where he had encountered more Chimeras.
Dohi increased his pace through a hall, keeping low, hatchet in one hand and suppressed pistol in the other.
The facility had once belonged to a normal medical therapeutics company. Filled with laboratories, offices, and manufacturing facilities. All lit in a sickly yellow glow from lights peeking out beneath crimson vines covering the walls and ceilings.
The pop of Variant joints clicked down a corridor, and Dohi shrank into a doorway. Using his shoulder, he nudged open a door with a dirty window to reveal what had once been a large office.
While the room wasn’t covered in webbing, the stench of sour fruit radiated off the carpet. Blankets and dirty fatigues were strewn on the floor. He tried to adjust the stolen mask from the Chimera, but it did little to relieve the putrid smell.
Clicking joints grew closer and with them came grunts and snarls.
Dohi knelt next to the door, watching from the side.
An elongated shadow moved in front of the window in the door. He pressed himself against a wall, sucking in his breath. The Variant paused outside, sniffing the air.
Another growl sounded.
Dohi tightened his grip on the hatchet.
Then he heard a shrill whistle, and the gruff voice of a Chimera. The Variant left the door, scampering down the hall.
Dohi watched two more humanoid silhouettes pass by the grimy window.
As their footsteps faded, he snuck out into the web-covered hallway. Other doors led to more offices turned into barracks.
He tried not to look at the vines covering the walls like spider webs, but once again, a memory of being strung up in the webbing sent a cold wave of fear through his bones.
Ace and Fitz were probably cocooned in that webbing somewhere. All he had to do was follow the network, and eventually he would find them.
Dohi cleared another corridor. This one led to smaller laboratories. Expansive windows provided a look into mostly empty spaces.
Microscopes and other equipment rested on lab benches. He didn’t see any dust or webbing on them. Someone must still be using them.
Voices echoed somewhere behind him.
He crept ahead, taking another corner toward a stairwell. The deep voices continued behind him, but there were more coming up the stairwell.
Footsteps clanged up the stairs. With no other choice, he retreated to the hall and ducked into a lab. There, he crouched under the windows.
The group of soldiers in the hall marched past.
Dohi crawled under the shelter of the lab benches. He didn’t stop until he got to the back of the room. There were two doors. One was labeled, Chemical Supplies. The other was made of stainless-steel and appeared to be to a walk-in cooler.
Keeping low, he snuck a glance above a lab bench filled with various glass apparatuses. The two separate groups of Chimeras had stopped in front of the windows, their backs mostly turned.
He ducked back down.
Judging by the way their weapons hung loose on their straps and their casual hand gestures, they didn’t know he was here.
The beasts chatted for another minute. They didn’t seem intent on leaving any time soon. Dohi looked around the lab, just as the walk-in cooler cracked open.
A man in a white lab-coat started to step out carrying a box full of supplies.
Dohi didn’t hesitate.
He charged the man, shoving him back inside the walk-in cooler, knocking the box from his hands. Plastic vials spilled across the floor.
The door closed shut, sealing them inside.
Before the guy could scream, Dohi punched him in the neck. He crumpled into a shelf, knocking off plastic bottles that broke open on the floor.
Dohi holstered his pistol and pulled out his knife, bringing it to the man’s throat.
In the dim light of the walk-in cooler, he saw this was no man.
Golden reptilian eyes glistened at him. A flat
nose with slitted nostrils sniffled. Scars ran down the length of his face and an underbite of sharp teeth protruded out of his sucker lips.
Dohi pushed his knife against the mutant’s throat. Trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The beast wasn’t dressed like a soldier. He wore a lab coat.
“Where are the prisoners?” Dohi asked. He pressed the blade deeper until a dribble of blood trickled out.
“Prisoners?” the mutated scientist seemed confused. Then he took a long sniff, his lips peeling into a snarl.
“I’m only asking you one more time,” Dohi said.
“You’re a dead man.”
Dohi rotated the scientist and slammed him against the back wall. This time the creature resisted and turned, snarling.
He had no choice but to punch the creature in the face. That did the trick, dropping the hybrid to the ground. Dohi got down, pushing a knee on the scientist’s chest to keep him down. Then he pressed his knife against the creature’s throat again.
“Try anything else and I’ll fillet you,” Dohi said.
The creature went limp under his knee, reptilian eyes locked with his. There wasn’t the raw anger he had noticed before—there was something else.
“Where are the prisoners?” Dohi entreated.
“They’re…they’re…upstairs. The vivisection labs.”
“Vivisection?” Dohi asked.
The scientist managed a nod, blood dripping away from the knife. “The place…where they do the experiments…on us…”
Dohi recognized what he saw in those yellow eyes now.
Not anger.
Fear.
Dohi sensed there was no more information he could gain from this man. Interrogation like this only worked if the subject thought there was some hope for them, some chance they might make it out alive.
But now the Chimera seemed resigned to his fate. He knew death was coming. Dying at Dohi’s hands was probably better than at the hands of the wicked people that had made him into a monster.
Dohi thought about what he could do.
He was sick of killing. Sick of hunting. And sick of hiding.
Maybe there was another option.
Dohi knocked the creature out, then tied him up with supplies he had found inside the cooler. After taping the scientist’s mouth shut, he patted him down, withdrawing another keycard and ID badge.
Extinction Cycle: Dark Age Box Set | Books 1-4 Page 93
