Extinction Cycle Dark Age (Book 2): Extinction Inferno

by Smith, Nicholas Sansbury

  Timothy couldn’t remember ever hearing anything like it.

  All at once, hundreds of birds surged upward, flocking around the exterior of the mesh, some of them flapping into the wire.

  Timothy flinched, but the collaborator’s hand kept him where he was. Pete tilted the flashlight to illuminate the creatures. The glow revealed these weren’t birds.

  They were bats.

  Both Nick and Pete laughed, but Alfred remained silent.

  “This… this is your army?” Timothy asked.

  “Not exactly,” Pete said.

  He pushed Timothy against the wire.

  “Have a good look, kid,” he said.

  Bats screeched in his face, their wings beating the air.

  “Cross me, and I promise I won’t slit your neck like Vin,” Pete said.

  Pete removed his hand from Timothy’s back. Timothy staggered back a few feet to put distance between him and the wire, watching the colony of twisted creatures rattling the mesh wall.

  “Ever seen hundreds of starving bats infected with VX-99 swarm a human?” Nick asked.

  Timothy shook his head.

  “Cross me, and you’ll find yourself on the other side of this wire, kid,” Pete said. He turned away and nodded at Nick.

  “Get our rabid little friends ready, Whiskey, it’s time for round two,” Pete said.

  ***

  Beckham and Horn sat in lawn chairs outside of Corthell Hall at the University of Southern Maine. At four in the morning, they were both exhausted, but Beckham couldn’t manage a wink of sleep. His head pounded from his injury, making it all the more difficult.

  Knowing Timothy was still out there, or more likely dead, dragged heavily on his mind. He had failed in his promise to Jake that he would look after his son. He had failed Timothy.

  Those thoughts haunted him. When he had made a call to the USS George Johnson, he was almost glad that Kate had been in the middle of an experiment. As much as he wanted to talk to her, he didn’t want to admit he had let Timothy down. Instead, he’d just made sure that someone would tell her that he and Horn were okay.

  “His sacrifice helped protect the city, at least,” Horn had said earlier. “If it weren’t for us going after him, those Variants might have made it to the outpost.”

  Horn was right, but that didn’t make Beckham feel better.

  He massaged the knot on his scalp and looked at the tents spread out across the campus lawn. Somewhere in one of those tents, Bo and Donna were sleeping.

  While Beckham couldn’t see them, there were snipers on every rooftop watching over these people like angels in the night—angels with M107A1 fifty caliber rifles and a few M72 LAW rockets.

  Snoring that sounded like chainsaws chewing wood distracted him from his thoughts, ensuring he wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. He glanced over at Horn. The big man had finally managed to drift off.

  It wasn’t surprising. Big Horn could sleep through a firefight.

  Beckham closed his eyes, hoping for some sleep too, but it simply wouldn’t come. Besides the snoring, he was too worried about things outside of his control, including Kate. He worried about what he would say to her when he returned and what their next steps would be.

  He got up from his chair, deciding to head back up to the rooftop of Corthell Hall. That’s where he would find Ruckley.

  When he got there, she was standing near the edge of the roof with a pair of FLIR BN-10 thermal binoculars scanning the city. One of the snipers glanced back at him as he approached, but then turned back to his scope.

  “How’s it look out there?” Beckham asked.

  He approached Ruckley as she lowered the binos.

  “So far no sign of another attack,” she replied. “We’re lucky. Sounds like outposts are still being hit hard.”

  Another voice came behind Beckham.

  “You trying to sneak away from me, boss,” Horn grumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  “Sorry, didn’t want to wake you,” Beckham said.

  Horn shrugged and walked over to the edge with him.

  “At least it’s quiet now,” Beckham said.

  “I’d say we got lucky for tonight being quiet,” Ruckley said, “but luck has nothing to with it. That was all thanks to you two.”

  “Wish Lieutenant Niven would have sent scouts out to look for the collaborators after those airstrikes,” Beckham said. “Now is the perfect time to hunt those assholes and look for their rat nests.”

  Ruckley frowned. “Look, I want to find the collaborators as much as you guys do, but we’re on defense right now. We simply don’t have enough people to risk missions without better intel.”

  She was right, and while Beckham knew that, he also remembered the risks they took during the first war against the Variants. Some were stupid, but others paid off. Tonight was stupid and had paid off.

  Ruckley sighed. “Glad you guys came up here, because I got some news.”

  “Good, I hope,” Horn said.

  “Afraid not,” Ruckley replied.

  Beckham braced himself.

  “Scott AFB fell a few hours ago,” she said. “The Variants hit them hard and fast, overwhelming the command building in less than an hour.”

  “What about Team Ghost?” Beckham stammered.

  “They made it out. They were launching a new mission when the attack came.”

  Hearing Fitz and the remaining team members were alive was a relief, but finding out they were being tossed into the fray again was another gut punch.

  “Where?” Horn asked.

  Ruckley shrugged. “Not sure. It’s classified.”

  Horn cursed and muttered under his breath.

  “I’m sorry…” Ruckley said.

  With everything going on tonight, the chances of Team Ghost surviving this new war weren’t good.

  Then again, the chances of the Allied States surviving weren’t good either.

  “I hope wherever they’re going will help put an end to all of this,” Ruckley said. “Someone far above my paygrade better have a plan, because sitting here waiting for the bastards to attack again feels like we’re waiting for a bomb to drop on us.”

  Beckham knew all too well that part of the plan would include Team Ghost, but he didn’t reply.

  “So what’s your plan?” Ruckley asked. “I sure hope it doesn’t include pulling any more stunts like tonight.”

  “No more stunts,” Beckham agreed. “I think we’ll get Bo and Donna back to command tomorrow, and then figure out how we can help with the war effort.”

  “What are your orders?” Horn asked Ruckley.

  She looked out over the city. “For now, the Iron Hogs are digging in and holding this outpost. Portland has been designated one of the safer zones. We’re supposed to get refugees from places that were hit harder than us. Like Kansas City, maybe Houston.”

  The sniper Beckham had noticed earlier got up and walked over. “Sorry to interrupt, Sergeant,” he said in a timid voice. “But I overheard you say something about Kansas City. My sister is there. Do you know how they’re holding out?”

  The sniper was young, probably only nineteen or twenty, with a baby face and scared blue eyes. He reminded Beckham of Alex Riley.

  “Things aren’t good, Johnson,” Ruckley replied. “I’m sorry but last I heard their defenses had fallen and people were being evacuated into the nearby caverns for shelter.”

  Johnson’s eyes dropped in despair.

  “We’ve been written off a lot of times, brother,” Horn said. “And we’ve made it back each time.”

  “You just got to have a little faith,” Beckham added.

  “Damn straight,” Ruckley said. “Hell, I thought you were both dead tonight, and you ended up taking on a horde of Variants one hundred strong. Alone.”

  Johnson let out a light huff. “Yeah, but you guys are legends.”

  “Nah, we’re just normal guys that don’t give up when shit hits the fan,” Horn said. “Try not to worry too
much, and focus on taking each day one at a time.”

  “Thanks,” Johnson said. He returned to his post not looking convinced.

  An eerie quiet hung over them for a few minutes. If Beckham closed his eyes and forgot about the past several hours, he could almost be at peace, listening to the chirp of a few nocturnal animals and feeling the gentle caress of the breeze.

  But even if he tried to forget it all, the world seemed intent on reminding him this was no time for letting down his guard.

  The handset radio crackled on Ruckley’s vest.

  “Iron Hog 2, go ahead, over,” she said.

  “Iron Hog 2, Raptor Eye 3, we’re picking up movement on the north edge of—”

  A blinding explosion suddenly erupted in the distance.

  It had come from Peaks Island.

  The Raptor recon team was camped out there to watch for collaborators, and something had just blown them to pieces.

  Horn readied his rifle.

  “Raptor Eye 3, do you copy?” Ruckley said.

  She tried again and again, receiving only static.

  Another flash lit up the island. One by one, blasts rocked the terrain, geysers of smoke and fire gushing up from the impacts.

  “Is that artillery?” Horn said.

  A siren wailed, and people emerged from the tents, dazed, and groggy. Soldiers ran out to escort them into the buildings, but chaos quickly broke out, people tripping and falling in the darkness. Frightened screams carried through the makeshift campgrounds as people stampeded for shelter.

  “What the hell is that?” Johnson said. The sniper lowered his rifle from the skyline and pointed.

  Ruckley brought up her thermal binos.

  “Looks like birds,” she said. “The blasts must have scared them.”

  “Let me see,” Beckham said. Ruckley handed him the binos. He used his good eye to focus on the red dots flocking across the view. There were hundreds of the creatures, a dark undulating cloud traversing over the horizon.

  But they weren’t scattering like Beckham would’ve expected a flock of frightened birds to do. They were heading right for the campus.

  He lowered the binos to look at the fires now dancing across Peaks Island.

  These weren’t just birds.

  When strange things like this happened, Beckham didn’t believe in coincidences. Something about those birds hurtling toward them set his nerves on fire.

  “We have to get everyone inside now!” he yelled.

  Then he pointed to the unmanned spotlight on the rooftop next to Johnson.

  “Get that light on those birds!” he commanded.

  Johnson did as ordered.

  Ruckley brought her radio to her lips. “Turn all spotlights to the sky. Target those birds.”

  The spotlights on the other roofs turned skyward to the formation of black. The creatures didn’t soar, but zigzagged and swooped through the sky, their wings moving in a blur.

  “Ho-ly shit,” Horn said, drawing out the syllables. “Those aren’t birds. They’re bats, and they’re coming straight at us!”

  “Shoot them!” Beckham yelled. He didn’t know why the little flying mammals would be coming at them, but he knew it wasn’t for anything good.

  He raised his rifle and flicked off the safety.

  Muzzle flashes came from the other rooftops as the order passed over the comm channels. The bats dipped lower, some diving and flapping through the rounds. They were nearly impossible to hit, flickering through the gunfire. An explosion rocked the first building across the campus, sending soldiers cartwheeling away from the roof.

  Beckham changed his magazine and watched in horror as the creatures dove for the tents and the fleeing innocents. Something detonated, spitting up fire so bright he had to shield his eyes from the glow. Even from the rooftop, he could feel the heat.

  More bats crashed into the ground and surrounding buildings, blowing up upon impact. Beckham might have brought down a couple, but he could quickly see they weren’t going to stop this destructive force of suicidal creatures.

  A formation broke off and flew toward their location.

  “Run!” Ruckley shouted.

  The team retreated back inside the building, as blasts shook the rooftop. Retreating soldiers tumbled from the concussive force, falling against the stairs. Heavy booms rattled the structure, and ceiling panels collapsed, breaking over the floor.

  Beckham tripped on a landing and fell, only to be yanked up by Horn.

  When they got to the bottom of Corthell Hall, the thunderstorm of explosions ceased, replaced by the agonized screams of the injured and dying. Beckham saw the surviving creatures peeling away, disappearing almost as fast they had attacked.

  Civilians flooded through the doors. Some of them had devastating burns and bleeding shrapnel wounds. One man had lost an arm and staggered, eyes staring blankly ahead with shock. Another man’s face was partially burned away, his ear and nose darkened into crisped flakes.

  Soldiers helped carry in the injured. The shouts and cries of horror filled the night. Beckham looked for Bo and Donna in the masses of panicked people, wading through with Horn.

  “Bo! Donna!” Beckham cried. Smoke burned his eyes, and the scent of charred flesh filled his nostrils.

  Horn coughed, deep and hard.

  Dark columns of smoke rose from dozens of craters. Bodies lay strewn across the field of destruction.

  Beckham only knew they had reached Bo and Donna’s tent because it was the center of the camp, and strips of burned red plastic had survived the inferno.

  He didn’t see any bodies in the remains, but corpses lay twisted in one of the nearby craters. Most were mangled and burned beyond recognition, but one of the victims was still moving.

  Beckham ran over and bent down next to the man. He was hurt bad, his legs charred. Most of his hair had been singed away, leaving a glossy, red and black scalp.

  “Medic!” Beckham yelled. He put a hand on the man’s shoulder hoping it wasn’t Bo. The man turned, but he had no eyes left to look at Beckham.

  My God…

  Beckham felt guilty when he felt a wave of momentary relief that it wasn’t Bo.

  “Hold on, man, help is coming,” Beckham said. “Just stay still, okay?”

  A soldier came running over with a medical bag and crouched next to the injured man. Beckham nodded at the medic and then ran to Horn.

  He knelt next to a victim draped over another body.

  The big guy looked up at Beckham, tears running down his eyes.

  “Bo…” Beckham said quietly.

  The teenager had valiantly shielded his mom’s body with his own. But his heroic efforts had been futile. A touch to her burned neck confirmed they were both gone.

  — 12 —

  Kate walked side by side with Carr and Sean down a passage of the USS George Johnson. Accompanying them now was a computer engineer named Sammy Tibalt, a former military contractor specializing in cyberwarfare and technology. The war had brought her back to helping the Allied States. She was whip-smart and had helped with testing their neural network hypothesis.

  Sammy had a tangle of tattoos, dragons, phoenixes, and lions interwoven in a colorful tapestry along her arms. Kate didn’t bat an eye at the ink, but Sammy’s long dreadlocks did catch her attention.

  A bit unconventional, Kate thought. But she knows what she’s doing.

  Carr, Kate, and Sean had spent the night locked away and working in the lab with Sammy, oblivious to what was happening outside the airtight fish bowl until Ringgold had come to check on them earlier.

  The president had informed Kate that her husband and Horn had gone out on a mission, and had returned.

  “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I wanted to wait until I had better intel,” Ringgold had said.

  Kate’s first reaction was anger, but that had passed. All she cared about was that Reed and Horn were okay. Knowing that had helped get her through the early morning hours. Aside from that, she
had no idea how the other outposts had fared during the night.

  Exhaustion and worry weighed on her, but the knowledge she carried with her after a night of experiments was enough to keep her going. They now better understood the role the red webbing in the Variants’ tunnel played in their communications with the collaborators. It had also led them to an insurmountable roadblock and they needed the president’s help.

  Sailors and other crew members flowed past them until they reached a hatch with two Marines standing guard.

  “Dr. Lovato, Dr. Carr, Sammy Tibalt, and Sean McMasters,” Kate said, holding up an ID card. “We’re here to meet with President Ringgold.”

  One of the Marines squinted at her ID before locking eyes with her. He then opened the hatch. They stepped into a space with a U-shaped table. Chairs lined each side, and a large monitor was mounted to the bulkhead.

  Already seated were President Ringgold, Vice President Lemke, General Souza, and Lieutenant Festa. Chief of Staff James Soprano stood in a corner with his arms folded.

  The dark circles under Ringgold and Souza’s eyes showed Kate she wasn’t the only one who had missed out on some shuteye. No doubt, the attacks last night had kept them occupied.

  “Did you bring me some hope?” Ringgold asked.

  “Yes, but we need your help, Madam President,” Kate said. “Starting with some coffee.”

  Soprano disappeared out of the briefing room.

  “Have a seat, please,” Ringgold said.

  Kate suspected she was about to get some very bad news as Sammy, Sean, and Carr dropped into seats beside her.

  “There was another attack on Outpost Portland after I saw you,” Ringgold said. “Beckham and Horn are still okay, but we lost a lot of people.”

  “No,” Kate stammered. “How? I thought…”

  “The collaborators used bats strapped with explosives to attack the outpost,” Souza said.

  “Bats?” Kate was taken completely off guard.

  “How in the world could they control them?” Sean asked, face going pale.

  “It could be any number of things,” Sammy said. “Some kind of implanted micro-electrodes. Radio-telemetry systems that deliver microcurrent pulses, maybe. There’s so much documented research in this area to draw from.”