“If they can control bats, think about what else they can control,” Carr said. “The scientific implications… they’re frightening.”
“The result was certainly devastating,” Festa said. “Whoever was responsible might’ve been inspired by the experimental bat bombs developing in World War II.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Kate said. “More alarming is that these bats could be mutated by VX-99.”
Carr put a hand on his chin, deep in thought. “That would explain how those animals could carry payloads with such catastrophic effects.”
“Every time we take one step forward, the Variants and collaborators push us one step backward,” Lemke said with a shake of his head.
“How about the other outposts?” Kate asked.
Souza looked to Festa for a report.
“It was a tough night,” said the lieutenant. “Three of the six outposts around the target cities have fallen completely. I’m still going through all the data to figure out which are the safest outposts to evacuate survivors to.”
“This is why your work is so crucial,” Ringgold said, her eyes looking between each of the researchers. “We need to intercept the messages being sent on the webbing network if we have any hope of organizing our defenses appropriately.”
“Right now, we’re just evacuating people toward the Atlantic coast and hoping we can stop the advance of the creatures,” Lemke added.
“I think we’re close to a breakthrough.” Kate set up her laptop and synced it with the briefing room monitor.
She clicked on her touchpad. An image of the red webbing within a beer can-sized bioreactor appeared on the screen. Next to it was one of the computers that had been recovered from the collaborators at the Luray Caverns in Virginia.
“What are we looking at now?” Lemke asked.
“We successfully recreated the webbing network,” Carr said.
“The connection between the computer and the neural cells was made with a flexible microelectric array.” Sammy swept her dreads over a shoulder. “It’s very similar to a design documented as early as 2006 by Dr. Simon Wong at the University of Florida.”
“Without getting into specifics,” Kate said.
“Right,” Sammy said. “Bottom line, Dr. Wong showed that a group of rat neurons could be successfully paired with a fighter jet simulator program.”
“I remember that,” General Souza said. “The DOD discussed investigating these topics to create better artificial intelligence for drones.”
“Did they?” Sean asked, leaning over the table.
“Yes, in fact,” Souza replied. “The DOD picked up many of the researchers involved in these efforts and hired them to continue their work on these subjects.”
“By chance, are any of these scientists still employed by the Allied States?” Kate asked.
Sean nodded. “If we knew who they were and had their help, they might be very useful.”
“I’ll look into it,” Souza said. “But I can’t promise anything.”
“For now, let’s assume you are the best minds we have left. Please continue,” Ringgold said.
Soprano returned and passed out hot cups of coffee as Kate moved on to the next slide. A graph showed the electrical output from the webbing. Next to it were screen captures from the collaborators’ computers that displayed a jumble of words.
“We connected the wires from the collaborator’s computer to the neural network contained within the webbing,” Kate said. “Sammy’s help was instrumental in this part.”
“By stimulating the cells, I recorded output signals from the webbing that were translated into inputs readable by the computers,” Sammy added.
Carr motioned at the screen with his coffee cup. “As you can see, while the computers could detect a signal, we couldn’t produce anything that made a lick of sense.”
Sammy agreed with a nod. “I’ve got the best computer scientists on my team, but even we can’t do anything to turn these messages into something understandable. It’s all just a bunch of gobbledygook.”
“How long do you need to decipher this?” Ringgold asked.
“What we have now is a slate full of hieroglyphics,” Sammy explained. “The symbols and the words are there. The message is there. But it’s hidden. We need our Rosetta Stone to translate this.”
Ringgold raised an eyebrow. “Tell me, then… What is your Rosetta Stone?”
Carr glanced at Kate while Sean rocked a leg.
They all knew what the request meant.
More soldiers were going to die.
“It’s a mastermind,” Kate said. “We need to connect the computers and neural network to one of those monsters in order to get a proper input signal. With that, we might get what we need.”
“You might?” Souza asked.
“Our team agrees this is the best option,” Sammy said. “This should be enough to complete the circuit, so to speak, and decode this language the Variants are using.”
“There’s really no other way,” Sean said emphatically. “No intel could be better than working directly with a mastermind.”
Lemke shook his head. “I don’t like the uncertainty, especially if you’re asking what I think you’re asking.”
“This information will be invaluable to predicting their movements and tapping into their networks.” Kate tapped on her laptop, and the monitor showed the collaborators’ computer systems again. “With it, we could even send signals of our own through the webbing. We could weaponize the enemy against themselves.”
Ringgold looked to Souza. “That’s something our troops could use. Imagine the possibilities.”
“Our job would be a lot easier if we knew the Variants’ plans,” Festa said.
“Think about the lives we could save,” Sean said.
“I don’t disagree,” Souza said. “But this requires us to locate a mastermind, secure the area, and connect your computer contraption up to it.”
“That would be one method,” Carr said. “But not what we’d recommend. Science is best done in a controlled environment. In a place where we can modulate all the external stimuli to ensure that the language we decode is uncorrupted.”
“You want us to capture a mastermind and bring it in?” Souza asked.
“I know it sounds insane,” Kate replied. “But we’ve done this before to study the Variants and Alphas. There’s nothing like having that kind of research subject to ensure we succeed.”
“We suggest isolating and moving a mastermind to a defensible location with a large-scale laboratory infrastructure,” Carr said.
“Have you identified a place?” Ringgold asked.
Sammy leaned forward in her seat, her tattoos peeking out from her cuffs. “That’s where we were hoping you all might come in.”
Festa nodded right away. “I think I know a place. Outpost Manchester in New Hampshire might work. There’s a cluster of manufacturing buildings there where they used to research and produce tissue engineered organs. This is exactly the type of facility we could reuse for the mastermind.”
“That sounds ideal,” Carr said.
“They have had zero successful Variant attacks due to their defenses,” Festa continued. “It’s protected by bodies of water, rocky outcrops, and water-logged topsoil that is nearly impossible for the beasts to tunnel into. The commander is a decorated veteran from the Great War of Extinction.”
The room was silent for moment.
“I know what you all might think. Capturing a mastermind, relocating it, hooking it up to a bunch of machines in some outpost,” Kate said. “It’s a huge commitment with resources we are desperately low on.”
“We understand what we’re asking sounds ambitious,” Carr said. “Even foolhardy. But if we want to win this war against an enemy like this, we need to take big risks.”
Ringgold stared at the computer monitor with the garbled message. “If we do this, if we can actually figure out how to bring in a mastermind and tap into their networ
k, you truly believe we can not only intercept their messages but also send signals to disrupt their communications?”
“Yes,” Sammy said. “Working firsthand with a mastermind will tell us what we need to know from a data perspective.”
Kate sat straighter. “With these revelations, we can eliminate the advantages the Variants have over us.”
Sean continued rocking his leg and nodded enthusiastically.
“And with the new equipment S.M. Fischer and General Cornelius are bringing to the table we can add a stronger layer of defenses to the outposts still standing,” Ringgold said.
Kate thought of Beckham and Horn and their children. In her mind’s eye, she saw all the other people they had left behind in Outpost Portland, like Donna and Bo and Timothy. All who could be dead now. They were among tens of thousands of people driven from their homes across the Allied States or dying at the claws of Variants.
“This plan might not be perfect, but it’s the best we have, and we have to do whatever it takes to stop these monsters,” Ringgold said.
“I can get behind it,” Lemke added.
General Souza sat quietly, seeming to contemplate all they had presented. He finally stood and let out a brief sigh.
“It’s a risky plan, but you’re right; it’s the best we have and fortunately for us, Team Ghost is already on their way to kill a mastermind. Lieutenant Festa, contact them and tell them their orders have changed from kill to locate and secure.”
***
Team Ghost trekked through the outskirts of a flooded New Orleans. A chopper had dropped them off the night before under the cover of darkness. Since then, they had moved slowly to avoid enemy contacts.
Fitz held point, listening for hostiles in Louis Armstrong Park as they approached the large white arch marking the entrance. The sun hid behind a blanket of dark gray clouds, and the city was quiet.
Somewhere in the city a lone rogue beast screeched, and a flock of birds exploded into the sky. Judging by the distance, they were out of the monster’s scent range. Hopefully, the rub Team Ghost had used to mask their scent would protect them.
Fitz gave the order to halt in front of the white arch that had “Armstrong” welded to it in big, blocky letters. His blades creaked as he stopped in front of a thin film of murky, brown water.
The levees had failed years ago, and swamplands had reclaimed most of the terrain. He looked at Rico. Stains climbed up from her boots to her knees showing the depth of the waters they’d had to pass. Soon they would have to cross more.
“The French Quarter is only a block away. Keep your eyes peeled for any sign of the mastermind,” Fitz said. “Once we find it, we keep an eye on it and stay hidden until air support and backup arrives. When they do, we’ll help hogtie that bastard and get it out of here for the scientists.”
“Hogtie,” Mendez said. “Personally, I’d prefer to barbecue the damn thing and turn it into Carne Asada.”
“Don’t disrespect Carne Asada, brother; that shit is good,” Ace said.
“True,” Mendez smirked. “I still can’t believe they want us to capture this thing.”
“We won’t be alone,” Rico said in a low voice.
“This should be easier than killing it, actually,” Fitz said.
“Nothing involving Variants is ever easy,” Dohi said, eyes narrowed and tone gravely serious.
“You’re right about that, amigo,” Mendez said.
Fitz pictured the last time they had come face-to-face with a mastermind. It had only been a couple days, yet it felt like eons ago. In that time, they had lost Lincoln and watched hundreds of good men and women die at Scott AFB.
Snap out of it, he thought. You’ve got a mission to complete.
“You good, Fitzie?” Rico asked in a whisper, as if she could sense his thoughts.
“As good as I could be after wading through polluted floodwater in the middle of Variant territory,” he said. “You?”
“Fine, but I sure as hell wish Variants didn’t know how to swim.”
She stared out over the rippling brown water filling the streets between the park and the French Quarter.
“I always wanted to come to New Orleans,” she said. “Thought it would be romantic, like Paris or some shit.”
“Someday we’ll go somewhere nice,” he said. “A beach, or the mountains. Wherever you want.”
Ace snorted. “All right kids, let’s focus.”
Fitz nodded and scanned the terrain one last time.
To avoid ambushes from the floodwaters, they had picked routes over higher ground, staying to decaying houses, restaurants, and bars as much as they could. The buildings were set nearly half-a-foot higher than the street, meaning that while the streets were flooded, there was usually no more than a couple inches of water in the buildings.
“Dohi, you’re on point,” Fitz said. “Keep us on dry ground or shallow water as much as possible. Find us a trail to that monster, and from here on out, cut the chatter.”
The team set off through ankle-deep waters to cross the street from the park. Then Dohi led them through a cemetery with raised stone graves. A crumbling angel statue with outstretched wings shadowed them, its head long gone as tendrils of green and brown vines grew over it. Water flowed around the graves, running toward the southern exit of the wrought-iron fence tracing the cemetery’s perimeter.
Fitz took every step slowly, probing beneath the water with his blades to ensure he didn’t trip on some tangle of trash concealed by the murkiness.
Caught against the fence were coffins that had been freed by the floodwaters. They had popped open like ruptured boils. Their skeletal contents were picked bare, all the leathery or decayed flesh had been snacks for desperate monsters.
Dohi held up a fist, and the rest of the team froze. He used two fingers to indicate he had spotted a potential contact toward the west.
Through his Leupold Mark 8 optic, Fitz scoped in on the movement. Near the stone steps leading to a mold-covered house with broken windows, the water rippled as if something swam just beneath the surface.
He held his sights on the movement and waited.
The creature was drawing near, but Fitz gave the order to hold fire, not wanting to draw attention unless absolutely necessary.
An elongated skull surfaced, and two beady black eyes surveyed the cityscape for prey. Those eyes sat atop a long maw full of needle-sharp teeth.
Fitz lowered his rifle.
It was just an alligator, far less dangerous than a Variant with gills. Never in his life had he been so thankful to see the huge predator this close.
He signaled for the team to stay put as the alligator propelled itself lazily down the street-turned-river, its tail slowly undulating. Once it had moved out of sight in the opposite direction, they advanced again.
Their route took them between buildings disintegrating from the unforgiving humidity and water lapping at their baseboards. Piles of debris lay strewn at the foot of the structures.
They passed through the shadow of a hotel with wraparound cast-iron balconies, looking for any sign of the mastermind’s presence. In the distance, the cries of hunting Variants wailed through the city again.
Dohi thrust his fist into the air.
A chorus of clicking joints sounded to their south. Fitz strained to see the source of the noise, but saw nothing.
The chatter and squawk of Variants erupted again from a different direction. This time a scream—all too human—pierced the din.
The agonizing cries continued for a few seconds before going silent. It had definitely come from the center of the French Quarter.
Maybe there were still people alive. People they could save with the airlift. Fitz found new motivation to find their target. If they could secure the area, they might be helping more than just the science team today.
Dohi waved them onward. He guided the team through a series of restaurants and into a bar. At the back exit, Fitz gave him the order, and Dohi opened the door to a
flooded alleyway.
This time Fitz stepped down a short set of stairs and waded into water that came up to his naval. Dohi suddenly grabbed him and yanked him back up the stairs and into the door as a splash exploded from behind a mostly submerged dumpster. The scaled body of an alligator shot through the water, headed toward the two men like a living torpedo.
Dohi aimed his rifle right at the animal’s center of mass as Fitz scrambled back inside, dripping wet. Before Dohi could squeeze the trigger, another creature burst from the water behind the gator. The yellow eyes of a Variant glowed as the creature wrapped its sinewy arms around the alligator and chomped into the beast’s armored neck.
The animal rolled in the water, writhing desperately to shake itself loose from the Alpha predator.
Fitz and Dohi moved back into the shadows as a second Variant surfaced, water sluiced down pale, veiny flesh. It waded over, claws extended, waiting to strike.
Shrieks called out from a nearby shop.
Fitz held the team there, waiting with his rifle aimed at the creatures in the flooded alley. The alligator finally stopped thrashing and a circle of water turned an even darker shade of brown.
The two Variants ripped the alligator apart. Seeing no other beasts, Fitz ordered Dohi to take the two monsters down with his hatchet.
Fitz pulled out his knife. They moved into position and then tossed the sharp blades. The hatchet found a home in one of the Variant’s skulls, but Fitz hit his target in the back.
Dohi threw his own knife before the creature could let out a shriek. Both monsters slumped into the water, floating next to the disemboweled remains of the gator.
Fitz waited another moment, then gave the advance. They moved out into the water, retrieved their weapons and pushed on until they reached a street that had been spared from the floods.
Red webbing plastered the sides of buildings framing the road. The organic ropes imprisoned the bodies of enough creatures to make Noah’s Arc seem like a miniscule collection. All evidence of food that the mastermind would need to create its organic central command of the webbing network.
Extinction Cycle Dark Age (Book 2): Extinction Inferno Page 15
