Dohi scrambled over to free his other friend while his enemies were distracted. A few slices was all it took. Fitz broke through the rest of his restraints.
He crawled over the stage toward Rico, and Dohi took off for the remaining Chimera fighting with Elijah. Corrin’s last ally went down in a blaze of fire, but at least the juveniles were all dead now.
Dohi leapt off the stage and stabbed his knife into the head of a Chimera firing next to Elijah. The other beast turned his aim toward Dohi as he crashed to the ground.
With a swift strike, Dohi speared his cutlass into the Chimera’s guts, then pulled down, spilling ropy intestines. He withdrew the blade and stood to face Elijah. The big Chimera was now holding two swords.
Corrin advanced down the aisle, snarling.
“It’s over,” he said.
“Not for me, you heretics!” Elijah screamed.
Dohi climbed over broken seats and joined Corrin in the aisle, approaching Elijah with their swords cocked back.
“For Ace,” Dohi said.
Corrin nodded.
The two soldiers swung their blades toward Elijah. He met their blades with his own in a shrieking crash of metal on metal, sparks flying. The impact of the metal-on-metal sent both Dohi and Corrin stumbling backward.
Dohi fought through the pain of his injuries, standing unsteadily. Corrin looked to be in equally bad shape, blood streaming from a bullet wound to the shoulder and another to his arm.
On the stage, Fitz was giving Rico mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She had been in worse shape than Dohi thought.
“There’s no way you get out of here alive,” Corrin said.
“Perhaps not,” Elijah said. He paced in the narrow aisle, stalking and sizing Corrin and Dohi up like a lion examining its prey. “But I will take you with me.”
Howling, he lunged toward them, swinging his blades. Dohi parried the attack, nearly losing his grip on the sword from the tremendous force of Elijah’s strike. Corrin swung, but Elijah dodged out of the way and then struck back, splitting part of Corrin’s chest to reveal muscle and the white of his ribs.
“NO!” Dohi screamed.
He tried to thrust his blade into Elijah, but Elijah struck out with his other weapon. This time Dohi was too slow to deflect the blow. The blade cut into his thigh. He went down hard a few feet from Corrin.
Elijah stabbed Corrin through the chest, skewering him with a crunch. The smaller Chimera struggled, grasping at the blade with his claws, trying desperately to keep Elijah from pushing it deeper.
Grunting, Dohi forced himself upright with his blade in hand.
He swung the cutlass one last time, summoning every bit of power he had left in his battered body. Elijah tried to avoid it, but he had been too intent on killing Corrin.
The blade cut into the broken skull mask covering his face. Blood and flesh flew away with the shattered bone.
Elijah let go of the blade in Corrin’s chest, turning toward Dohi as he swung again with all his might. The blade cut into his neck, tearing through the flesh and cleaving bone until his head hung to the side by a few bits of stringy muscle.
Dohi kicked him backward into the broken seats. The Chimera tumbled over the side, his head snapping free and rolling away.
“Corrin,” Dohi said.
He crouched next to his friend, gasping for air.
“You did it,” Corrin croaked.
“We did it, brother,” Dohi said. He eyed the sword sticking through Corrin’s chest, trying to determine how best to remove it.
“It’s okay,” Corrin said, no doubt seeing the realization in Dohi’s eyes. “I’m ready for death.”
“No, you’re not going to die. I won’t lose another brother.”
“I died a long time ago, my friend. Fighting with you and Ghost was a great honor…”
Corrin blinked. “Don’t forget me, friend.”
“I won’t ever.”
His eyes locked with Dohi as his chest went still.
“Corrin,” Dohi said. “Corrin…”
He put a finger to his neck but there was no pulse. With a deep sigh, Dohi gently closed his friend’s eyelids, then pushed himself up.
Dohi staggered, his injured leg threatened to give out. Blood soiled his pants from the deep wound. He used the cutlass as a crutch to walk back to the stage where Fitz was still holding Rico in his arms.
“Corrin?” he asked.
“Gone,” Dohi said. “Is Rico okay?”
“She’s in shock, but she’s breathing. We have to get her out of here.”
“I’ll finish the masterminds,” Dohi said. He picked up a rifle and aimed at the beasts, but as soon as he brought up the weapon his vision blurred. He stumbled, then fell to one knee.
“Dohi!” Fitz shouted.
Dohi collapsed to his back, eyes on the web-covered ceiling. Fitz scrambled over.
“Dohi, stay with me,” Fitz said.
He tried his best, but his vision went dark, and in his mind’s eye, Dohi saw Ace, Lincoln, Mendez, Corrin, and the spirits of all the warriors lost over the years.
I knew I would see you again, brothers.
— 27 —
“Madam President, I have good news and bad news,” Souza said.
“Good news, first,” Ringgold replied.
“We just got word from Ghost. Los Alamos is now under our control.” He put down the radio, but he didn’t smile. “Unfortunately, the Prophet was not there… he’s here in Galveston.”
“What?” She tightened the strap of her rifle, then felt the bulge under her jacket where her M9 was tucked into her waistband for reassurance.
The command staff on the balcony of the watchtower platform all looked over, and the three Secret Service agents on the platform shot Ringgold nervous glances.
“Doctor Lovato was taken hostage by him, but the Prophet fled when Captain Beckham arrived,” Souza said. “Captain Beckham is now hunting the Prophet with Master Sergeant Horn.”
“Beckham will take him down,” Ringgold said, ready to breathe a sigh of relief.
“I hope so,” Souza said. “Doctor Lovato warned us that the Prophet is coming for you.”
“Good thing we have two of our best soldiers hunting him,” Ringgold replied. She looked out over the watchtower platform at the Harbor House Hotel. The rain had stopped. All the enemy choppers had been taken out, but there were still thousands of enemy forces out there.
Columns of oily smoke snaked into the air across the base. Constant gunfire and the thuds of explosions resonated from every direction between screams of pain and shrieks from hunting beasts.
Cornelius walked over with his M4A1 cradled over his chest. “We’re getting reports of more breaches along the eastern and western walls.”
He looked out over the eastern part of the base. “Don’t worry, Madam President. We will hold them.”
Soprano rushed over with another handheld radio. “I’m hearing that Variants are invading some of the civilian shelters on the southern part of downtown.”
Ringgold felt a wave of sickness. “Is there anything we can send to help them?”
Cornelius looked out over the raging fires and flashes of gunfire to the west. “We can pull a few teams away from the walls.”
“Make it happen,” Ringgold said.
Cornelius nodded at one of his men.
Another explosion bloomed just a block away to their south. Flames roared up the side of a former hotel. The tongues of fire illuminated nearly twenty Variants and juveniles galloping down the street. A massive Alpha heaved the charcoaled husk of a car toward a group of soldiers behind a barricade of sandbags.
“Take them out!” Cornelius said.
A gunner on the platform directed his M240 and fired into the ranks of the monsters. Blasts from the sniper rifles followed. The Alpha lumbered toward the sandbags, rounds punching into its muscular frame.
“Jesus,” Cornelius yelled. “Give me that.”
He reached out for a sn
iper rifle and took it from the soldier. Slinging his M4A1 over his back, Cornelius then shouldered the long rifle, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
The top of the Alpha’s head flew off, and the beast dropped in front of the sandbags. Cornelius handed the gun back to the soldier and walked back over to Ringgold.
“Nice shot,” she said.
Cornelius unslung his rifle, and Souza shouldered his weapon as more creatures advanced on the streets outside the hotel.
“Madam President, you should shelter inside,” Soprano said.
Her Secret Service agents moved toward her, ready to escort her down the stairs into the hotel.
“No,” she replied, raising her rifle. “I’m ready to fight.”
Cornelius raised a brow. “I sort of regret running against Lemke and your party now. God rest his soul, but you know what I mean.”
Ringgold nodded. “I’m sure he gladly would have run with you on the ticket.”
The shriek of Variants silenced them.
“Oh, Jesus,” Soprano said. He crossed his chest and then pumped his shotgun.
“Get ready!” Cornelius yelled.
Gunfire from collaborators on another rooftop pinged off the walls. The agents surrounded Ringgold, bringing their rifles up as she aimed her barrel, recalling the lessons Cornelius had taught her over the past few days. She kept the sights on the center mass of her target and fired.
Each squeeze of the trigger was deliberate and careful, the stock of her rifle kicking back slightly against her shoulder. A collaborator dropped from one of her rounds.
She paused for a moment from the shock of taking a human life. The Variants were one thing but…
No, these men are also monsters.
The sound of gunfire and screams snapped her back to reality. The beasts were coming from all directions now, storming through Galveston. She aimed at the Variants, trying to hit them, but they moved so damn fast.
A jammed round forced her to lower her rifle and clear the chamber. By the time she shouldered her rifle again, some of the fighting on the streets had turned into hand-to-hand combat.
The Chimeras and Variants lunged at the men and women clinging to survival, tearing at their flesh with claws and teeth.
Again and again, she squeezed the trigger.
The crack of gunfire sounded all around her, answering the howls of the beasts threatening to overwhelm them from below.
An hour of the fighting raged until corpses littered the street. Puddles on the asphalt turned red with blood.
Seeing all of the pale corpses of the monsters filled Ringgold with hope that they could hold out for the arrival of the Mexican and Canadian reinforcements.
A strange moment of silence passed over the watchtower as she reloaded. Sporadic gunshots echoed, but they seemed more spread out and further away.
“Anyone got eyes?” Cornelius called.
“We’re getting reports of movement to the north!” Souza called from the enclosed area with the comms officers.
“I see them!” one of the snipers called out from the north wall. “A whole—”
Before he finished his sentence, half his face was blown away by an incoming round. His body fell backward. Cornelius took the position and opened fire.
“On me!” he shouted.
Souza and a group of three soldiers moved over to help. Ringgold strained for a look at the targets, her Secret Service agents following her. Between the columns of smoke, she saw Chimeras running toward the hotel.
One of those monsters wore a black cloak that she recognized from the horrific video of when Lemke had been butchered. A phalanx of Chimeras ran close to protect the huge beast.
Variants and juveniles swarmed onto the street from neighboring buildings.
Gunfire suddenly pounded the platform. Ringgold went down on her stomach, the Secret Service agents crowding her. She watched as Cornelius jerked back from a round to the shoulder. He regained his balance and kept firing.
A pair of the machine gunners and the three snipers on the other walls rushed to help thwart the incoming attack.
One of her Secret Service agents tried to help Ringgold back to her feet when a bullet lanced through his throat. Blood sprayed on her as he collapsed on top of her body.
“Get her out of here!” Cornelius yelled.
Soprano grabbed Ringgold, and with the help of the two surviving agents, pulled her out from under the dead man. She watched in horror as a set of claws reached up and grabbed a sniper at the wall, pulling him over the side.
Soprano started to pull her away from the north side as Chimeras climbed over the platform and tore into the soldiers there. One of the beasts struck Souza in the face with a cutlass, severing his jaw. He reached up, but then fell to the platform, his dead eyes on Ringgold.
“No,” she choked.
Cutlasses hacked into the soldiers, separating limbs and heads. Cornelius and three of his men rushed to stop the advancing monsters.
“Let me go!” she yelled at Soprano.
He loosened his grip, and she raised her rifle, her two remaining agents aiming their own weapons. They both went down suddenly, from sniper rounds.
Rage flowed through her as she ducked down and changed her magazine, struggling to click it into the rifle.
“Madam President, watch out!” Soprano called.
She looked up as a Chimera climbed the wall and dropped onto the platform. Soprano stepped in front of her and fired the shotgun into the super soldier. It jerked backward and growled at Soprano who pumped the weapon.
“Oh fuck,” he said.
He turned to look at Ringgold as the Chimera thrust his cutlass through his chest, skewering him before yanking the blade out.
Soprano dropped in front of her, whispering his final words. “I’m sorry.”
The Chimera started toward her, blood gushing from the shotgun blast to his side. He raised his cutlass when a bullet burst through his eye.
Cornelius ran across the platform, lowering his pistol. He grabbed Ringgold and started to pull her away, but five Chimeras had cornered them, three on one side and two on the other.
She came together with her back against the general.
“This is it,” Cornelius said. “Make each bullet count.”
He raised his pistol and Ringgold aimed her rifle, fighting the sheer terror and shock gripping her body. Two of the Chimeras fell under their fire, but the other three made it through. One slammed into Cornelius and locked his claws into the general’s arm, squeezing and forcing him to drop the pistol. A headbutt to the face from the creature knocked Cornelius unconscious.
Another creature yanked her rifle away and then angled a cutlass at her.
“We have the heretics!” screamed the half-man guarding Cornelius.
Another monstrous shape climbed over the side of the wall.
Azrael.
He heaved himself onto the platform, then surveyed the carnage. With a snort, he pulled his cutlass from over his back. He stalked toward Ringgold, black cape fluttered behind him.
The three Chimeras parted, letting him approach. Cornelius was still limp on the ground, unconscious.
“It’s over,” Azrael said. “You have lost, Jan Ringgold.”
“It’s not over,” she managed to reply.
Azrael narrowed his golden eyes, the point of his cutlass touching her neck. “After all this time, you still don’t understand.” He gestured out over Galveston with his claws. “You have killed your people by failing to submit and join the New Gods.”
“Death is better than slavery,” she replied.
Ringgold held his gaze and inched her hand toward the pistol tucked under her jacket.
“We took Los Alamos,” she said, trying to buy time. “We freed your prisoners, and they’ve joined us.”
Azrael prodded his cutlass under her chin, forcing her head up. “I’m not worried about a group of dying, weak heretics. We will take Los Alamos back after we finish taking Galveston.”
“Maybe, but you won’t be there to see it.”
At first, Azrael looked confused.
She whipped out her M9 and aimed it straight into his gut. A pull of the trigger put a round into his flesh, making him jerk back. His eyes widened slightly as she fired two more shots. Both bullets, making him recoil. Before she could fire a fourth shot, a cutlass came down on her hand from one of the Chimeras.
She tried to pull the trigger again, but her finger wouldn’t work.
A glance down and she saw her severed hand laying on the floor of the platform next to the pistol.
Blood pumped out of her wrist, and the pain set in, electricity cutting through her nerves. She let out a scream as the pain pierced her shock.
Azrael grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground.
“The Allied States is mine,” he roared.
***
Beckham lunged over another dead Variant in the stairwell inside the Harbor House Hotel leading up to the watchtower platform. Horn followed him, wobbling slightly as he took the steps two-at-a-time, the effects of the concussion getting to him.
The advance here had been difficult. He and Horn had traveled through abandoned and burning buildings, avoiding as many of the enemy forces as they could. Twice they had to stop and engage Chimeras, but they had made it here.
Now came the hard part.
Leading the way, Beckham snuck up the last few steps toward the platform above the hotel. He paused on a landing and pointed up with his prosthetic hand, gesturing to Horn when he heard a voice.
“We will never surrender…”
Beckham wasn’t surprised that it was President Ringgold.
He glanced back at Horn who nodded back. They advanced slowly, their weapons at the ready. As they reached the top of the stairs, Beckham spotted both Ringgold and Cornelius on the platform against one of the four-foot-high walls.
Three Chimeras loomed over them, two with cutlasses drawn, and a fourth, larger beast stood between them. It had to be the Prophet, Azrael.
The abomination of science and nature angled his sword at the president, but then slowly turned, sniffing the air. His golden eyes landed on Beckham.
“Reed Beckham, is that actually you in the flesh? Ah, I can smell your fear.”
Extinction Cycle: Dark Age Box Set | Books 1-4 Page 129
