“Mind if I join you?” Beckham asked Timothy.
Timothy shrugged.
For a few moments, they stood silently, taking in the view. Beckham had considered giving Timothy space in case he harbored ill-will toward him after all that had happened, but there were some things that needed to be said.
“I’ll never forget the day I met you and your dad,” Beckham said. “I had never seen anyone fight so hard against all odds, like your father. Everything he did was to protect you.”
Timothy nodded.
“I didn’t know Jake before the first war, but I’d bet my life he made a great police officer. Back on Peaks Island, there was no one else I would trust more to protect our community than your father, and that’s why he stayed behind that night, to save you and the kids, and my wife.”
“He was a brave, good man,” Timothy said.
“He was a brave, great man. And he would be proud of you beyond words. In fact, I am certain he is proud. You helped save my life at Mount Katahdin and you also helped save countless others.”
“Someone had to do it.”
“Just because someone had to do it doesn’t mean just anyone would. But you stepped up. You risked everything to stop the collaborators.”
Timothy brushed away a tear with the back of his hand. “I miss him. I miss my dad.”
“Me too, kid. Me too.”
Beckham put an arm around Timothy, and Timothy didn’t pull away.
“I’m so sorry for leaving Outpost Portland that night,” Beckham said. “When we came back for you and you had gone off, I…”
“You came back for me?”
Timothy looked over at Beckham and he loosened his grip so he could face the young man.
“Yes, Horn and I both came back, and then we went out and looked for you,” Beckham said. “A team of collaborators hit our truck and killed our driver, nearly killed us, too.”
“I… I didn’t know.”
“How would you have known? All that matters is that we’re here now, standing on this beach with a second chance to keep fighting.”
“I’ll never stop,” Timothy said.
“Me either.”
They embraced, and Beckham patted the kid on the back.
“Your old man isn’t the only one who’s proud of you. I’m so proud, Timothy, and I think there might be an opportunity for you on Team Ghost.”
Timothy brightened at that.
“But first, let’s eat,” Beckham said. “There’s plenty of time for fighting. For now, let’s spend some time with family.”
***
Fitz woke up to find his ribs burning with every breath, and his limbs scorching with electricity. He couldn’t remember being in this much pain since he had lost his legs. Every muscle in his body felt like it was going to tear from his bones.
With a gasping heave, he pushed his prosthetic blades over the side of his bed at the Banff Fairmont Hotel. They clanked against the timber floorboards as he made his way to the bathroom. There was still dried blood in the sink from earlier.
He glanced at himself in the mirror. The bruises mottling his body had grown dark purple and blue, covering nearly every inch of exposed flesh. The cut on his chest was now covered in clean bandages and properly sewn up by the Canadian medics. Just another scar to add to his collection.
Despite his pain, the past few hours of sleep had been one of the deepest in recent memory. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in a bed like this. Now it was his turn to watch their prisoner and give Ace a chance to catch some shuteye.
When he, Ace, and Dohi had arrived with Corrin, the first thing he’d wanted to do was to talk to General Kamer, not trade shifts watching the Chimera in a hotel room. He had been ready to give Kamer a piece of his mind and explain exactly why Canada needed to join the fight with the Allied States.
But General Kamer had been called away in the night to Valemont, another Canadian frontier base for a meeting with other military leaders. Apparently, the general was there to discuss provisions and supply routes before they settled in for the harsh winter.
Fitz grabbed his rifle, left the room, and went a few doors down to where four Canadian soldiers stood outside. This particular room had been transformed into a holding cell for the Banff base.
Team Ghost had told Kamer’s men they wanted to personally stand guard over the Chimera. The Canadian soldiers hadn’t seemed offended. None of them wanted the job of watching such a monstrosity.
The Canadian soldiers outside the room stiffened when they saw Fitz headed their direction. One of them unlocked the door and let Fitz in. The soldier then closed the door and relocked it with a heavy click behind Fitz.
Ace and Dohi stood in one corner, both cradling their weapons as they faced Corrin. Bars covered the windows and heavy iron shackles were wrapped around the Chimera’s ankles and wrists. Chains secured the shackles to bolts in the heavy timber floors.
The half-man stared up at Fitz with narrowed yellow eyes, his breathing coming out in rasps from his slitted nostrils.
“You get some rest, boss?” Ace asked. He tugged at his beard and leaned heavily against the wall.
Fitz nodded. “I’ll take over now. You two can go get some sleep.”
Ace limped out of the room, but Dohi stayed behind.
“I’m good,” Dohi said.
Corrin seemed unperturbed by their presence. Fitz studied him, wondering if this creature really was who he said he was—or just cooperating so the New Gods could use him as spy.
“You need the break,” Fitz said. “I got this.”
“All due respect, but I want to personally keep my eyes on this thing until Kamer gets back,” Dohi said.
The door opened again, and Fitz turned expecting to see Ace had changed his mind. But it was Sergeant Carter Prince who walked in with two guards.
“General Kamer’s back,” Prince said. “He’s ready to talk to you if you’re ready.”
“We were ready last night,” Dohi said.
The soldiers unlocked Corrin’s chains, freeing them from the bolts in the floor. They kept the chains attached to the shackles and held them like a pair of heavy leashes. Then they ushered the Chimera out.
Fitz followed, keeping his rifle trained on Corrin in case he tried anything. Dohi knocked on Ace’s room’s door. The older operator answered, his shirt already off and sleep already fogging his eyes.
“Goddammit,” he grumbled.
“Get your clothes on, we’re meeting the general,” Dohi said.
Ace cursed and went back inside to change before hurrying after them.
Soldiers milling about in the corridors or rushing through the base stopped and stared as the group made their way down the hall and stairwells. A few cursed under their breaths, and others turned white, pale with fear.
Good, Fitz thought. Let them see what awaits them.
Prince took Corrin through the main lobby. A few officers stood from their desks, gawking at the monster.
“Why the hell did you bring a Variant in here?” one officer asked.
“Ain’t no Variant,” Ace said.
The officer shrank back to his desk.
Most of the men and women here hadn’t been on shift when Ghost had brought Corrin in. The few soldiers who had seen the Chimera had been told to keep their lips sealed until General Kamer arrived. Ghost didn’t want to cause a scene, just like this, before they had a chance to introduce Kamer to the Chimera.
After they passed through the lobby, Prince took them to the conference room where they had first met General Kamer. Seated at the oval table in the center of the room, the general had his head down, studying some papers spread before him.
A half-dozen officers were gathered in the room with him, their eyes on their computers and briefing folders.
Prince knocked on the door. “Team Ghost is here to see you, sir.”
“Bring them in,” Kamer said, finally looking up. He stiffened in his seat when Fitz en
tered.
“You look like hell, Master Sergeant,” he said.
Fitz got out of the way to let him see Corrin.
The general slowly rose out of his chair.
“This is the face of the new war,” Fitz said. “We call them Chimeras. They’re smart as humans but have all the twisted mutations of Variants. And that’s why we’re losing.”
Kamer stared for a moment, blinking a few times like he didn’t believe what was standing in front of him. But if his eyes wouldn’t believe it, Fitz knew his nose would.
Corrin stank like a rotting fish and fruit market in a blazing sun.
A moment of tension passed, and to the surprise of Fitz, the first words came not out of Kamer’s mouth but of Corrin’s.
“The New Gods want to transform every man, woman, and child left in this world,” said the Chimera. “They want to turn them into…things like me.”
“That’s impossible,” Kamer said in a shaky voice.
“It’s not, and those they can’t transform, they’ll kill,” Corrin said.
Kamer looked to Fitz.
“These monsters are coming for you,” Fitz said. “They’re coming for all of us, whether you believe Corrin or not. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“Trust me,” Ace said. “It ain’t pretty, and the only way to stop what’s coming is to work together.”
Kamer stepped from behind his table, approaching Corrin cautiously.
“We nearly gave our lives to bring this monster to you,” Dohi said. “Take a damn good look at him.”
“We were wrong when we thought the human race was going to go extinct.” Fitz paused, sucking in a breath that pained his agonized lungs. “The abominations we fought want to force human evolution, and right now, you’re looking at our future if you don’t step up with your forces and team up with President Ringgold.”
“We can hardly feed our people, Master Sergeant, how do you expect…” Kamer began to say.
The Chimera growled out what sounded like a laugh. “I wouldn’t worry about food. If the New Gods have it their way, there won’t be any human civilization left in North America by the New Year.”
Kamer took a few steps closer, stopping in front of the beast. For a few seconds he said nothing. Fitz knew this general wasn’t a coward. He had the scars of a veteran who had fought the beasts for almost a decade. And he had done a good job keeping his people safe.
For that, Fitz respected him.
But sometimes a warrior needed to see the enemy up close to understand the threat they posed, and that’s exactly why Fitz had brought Corrin here.
Kamer finally stepped away and sighed. He jerked his chin at a lieutenant hanging back in the shadows.
“Get me President Ringgold on the phone immediately. It’s time we start planning together,” Kamer said.
The lieutenant hurried away.
Kamer looked at Fitz, Dohi, and Ace in turn.
“Thank you for risking your lives to show me the truth,” he said. “The Canadians are with you.”
Fitz couldn’t help but grin as he held out his hand to shake. “Welcome to the fight, General.”
o—o—o
EXTINCTION DARKNESS
All it takes, is all you got. Never quit. Never surrender.
To the legion of Extinction Cycle readers, this book is for you. Thank you so much for following Team Ghost and all of the Extinction Cycle characters over the years. This series would not be what it is without the support of the fans, and I am eternally grateful for each and every one of you.
– Nicholas Sansbury Smith
— 1 —
Azrael walked quietly on taloned feet, surveying the corpses littering the streets of Outpost Tulsa. The stench of death and rot carried on the crisp evening air. His men, Scions and humans both, reveled in that smell of victory, but he could not.
To him, one defeated outpost was not a real victory any more than a single step was a marathon.
His conquest was only just beginning.
One of his Scions, a creature named Jonah, bowed low in front of him.
“Prophet, we have him,” he growled, his voice scraping up from his gullet.
Jonah was one of the oldest of the Scions from the first batch of successful experiments. He had loyally served since his transformation from a weak human into the demigod he was today.
“Take me to him,” Azrael said with a snarl.
“Yes, Prophet.”
Jonah turned on his heels. He walked with the gait of a human, but his physique bore the fruits of over a decade of scientific research. Yellowed, needle-sharp teeth jutted from behind his sucker lips, and slitted nostrils were carved into his face where his nose once was. Golden eyes like a bird of prey scanned the road for any threats. Scything claws hooked from the ends of his fingers, filed down enough so he could use a rifle.
His body was much like Azrael’s. Only Azrael, the Prophet, was larger, the bones in his shoulders pushing against his flesh like an ancient knight’s armor, ominously protruding under the long black cloak he wore.
Underneath that cloak, body armor pressed tight against his flesh. He was strong, but he did not like to take unnecessary risks. A well-aimed bullet could still kill him.
Jonah stopped to sniff the air, then continued down another street.
Darkness had settled over the fallen outpost, but Azrael and his Scions didn’t need lights like humans. Those poor primitive great apes had weak eyesight, unlike the vision Azrael had bestowed on himself and his most ardent followers through genetic engineering. They could see as easily in the dark as they could in the middle of the day.
Black smoke drifted from craters in the asphalt, swirling on the cold wind. Charcoaled vehicles lined the streets between war-torn buildings and piles of scree. The glow of dwindling fires flickered over pale-fleshed Variants feeding on their human trophies.
“Our Thralls will eat well tonight,” Jonah said. A twisted grin formed over his beastly face. “The heretics are no match for the New Gods.”
“That’s because they chose the wrong path,” Azrael said, his clawed fingers curling into a quaking fist. “They misplaced their faith. They have wasted so many lives that could have been used to serve us.”
These heretics had been deceived by the false promises of a government that had betrayed them, mindlessly following sacrilegious leaders like President Jan Ringgold.
She told the nonbelievers that there was hope for humanity and promised victory. But the only hope for humanity was by joining the New Gods.
Slurping sounds filled the air as a pair of scrawny Thrall Variants dug into two dead soldiers near a machine gun nest. One of the monsters lifted its head, ropey entrails hanging from between its teeth.
The beasts were single-minded predators, but even they could be trained. If only the Allied States could be bent to his will as easily.
Sporadic gunshots echoed in the distance. The howls of hunting Thralls rose like the calls of demonic spirits. A human scream rang out and faded.
Each time the Prophet heard those terrorized screams of fear and pain, he felt a twinge of revulsion.
“I wish it did not have to be this way,” Azrael said.
“I know it pains you, Prophet.”
“They could be Scions of the New Gods. Just like you. Instead of death, I could give them new life.”
“Someday, they will understand what your promise brings them.”
Azrael held the keys to unrivalled technology and an army unlike anything the world had seen. And these so-called Allied States citizens could choose to follow him, never living a day in fear for the rest of their lives.
If only they would listen.
Jonah pointed a crooked claw at a large church between two tall office buildings. “The commander is in there.”
Half of the steeple was gone, and one of the pinnacles was nothing but a pile of blackened rubble. The jagged remains of colorful stained-glass sparkled in the firelight.
Az
rael walked through the shattered wooden doors into the dark recesses of the former place of worship. Past the broken pews and a handful of corpses, a group of six Scions holding saw-toothed cutlasses gathered around the nave with five prisoners strung up by ropes against the wall at the back of the church.
Jonah bowed, pausing in the aisle, and Azrael continued to the nave. Spent brass bullet casings littered the floor, some lying in puddles of blood. He stepped around the toppled altar to get closer to the prisoners.
A pane of moonlight bled in through the broken stained-glass windows above the humans hanging from the beams across the ceiling.
The golden eyes of Scions followed Azrael as he studied the prisoners. He could smell their festering wounds and their fear.
The first was a man in a military uniform, stubble lining his scarred face. Next to him was a woman, also in a combat uniform. A long gash leaked blood across her cheek. She moaned, her head rolling on her shoulders, barely on the edge of consciousness.
At the end of the line was a second man in a combat uniform. The insignia on his shoulder signified he was a colonel. His head was shaved clean, and from where he was strung up, he alone looked at Azrael in defiance. Tears in his jacket showed where a Variant had clawed at his chest.
This is the outpost commander, Azrael thought.
“The fuck you looking at?” the man grumbled.
One of the Scions moved toward the colonel with his blade. “You insolent heretic.”
Azrael held up a hand, and the Scion let out a growl. But the faithful servant lowered his weapon and retreated.
“You were in charge of this outpost,” Azrael said.
The commander’s eyes narrowed. “I still am.”
Azrael shook his head. “A good leader knows when to admit defeat.”
“We will win. Maybe not today, but we will destroy you and your disgusting mutants.”
With a snort, Azrael took a deep breath, smelling the pheromones leaching off the weak man. He had seen humans act courageous like this before, even in the face of certain death. It was admirable, but ultimately foolish.
Extinction Cycle: Dark Age Box Set | Books 1-4 Page 98
