Extinction Survival Series (Book 3): Cost of Survival

by Browning, Walt

  Shader looked into the ocean but saw only darkness.

  “You could lose him,” Shader cautioned.

  “I know.”

  Shader reached over and snapped a button on Shrek’s harness. It activated the vest’s infrared strobe.

  “Send him,” Shader said.

  “Reveiren!” Carver yelled, and Shrek jumped over the edge, disappearing into the inky water below.

  Shader tossed Carver his helmet. He strapped the dome onto his head and flipped his NV monocular down. Carver stared into the ocean below and could see the strobe dropping down. Each pulse seemed to fade as the dog churned its legs, driving itself deeper and deeper under the surface. After a bit, the movement stopped. Shrek had either found Gonzalez or had succumbed to the ocean’s watery grave.

  “Come on, boy. You can do it,” Carver whispered.

  Shrek

  I can see the warrior. He is slowly sinking. I can reach him.

  My legs drive me down. My ears pop and crack from the water that surrounds me. I ignore it. Nothing will stop me from grabbing the man. I will get him. I will save him.

  He doesn’t move. I do what I do best. I clamp down on his pack and pull him back. But he is too heavy. I cannot lift him up fast enough.

  I feel my chest burn. I need air. I need to breathe. But my squad mates come first, and I ignore the pain. I paddle even harder and we begin to slowly rise. But it won’t be fast enough. I can tell that I will not make it if I keep hold of the man. But I won’t let go. I won’t give up. I will not fail.

  Because I am Shrek.

  I am the ghost that kills in the night.

  I never give up.

  It is just who I am.

  But I may not win this time…

  Carver

  Carver could see the Mal stagnant in the water. He had to be thirty feet down. Time raced by and after another few seconds of panicked waiting, he’d had enough.

  He dropped his helmet and pushed the quick release snaps on his battle belt and assault pack, sending them to the boat’s floor. After grabbing one of the yellow straps they’d used to haul the rubber craft under the Seahawk, he turned to Shader.

  “Pull me when I signal!”

  Carver dove into the roiling, ebony water. He kicked with all his strength and propelled himself straight down. His night vision goggles were back on the boat, still attached to his helmet. He swam blindly toward Shrek’s last location, but he had a pretty good idea where to go. His arms and legs fell back into their old rhythm and his SEAL training kicked in. After all, he’d spent years learning how to live in the ocean.

  Carver grabbed the water with his open hand and shoved it behind him as he strove downward. His speed was such that it surprised him when he ran into something hard. He grabbed the object and felt the Mal’s body harness. With no vision, and time running out for both the dog and the Marine, Carver latched onto the harness’s handle and turned back to the surface. He tugged on the strap and felt his body being pulled up.

  A few seconds later, he broke through the waves right next to the inflatable craft. Carver kicked down and grappled the heavy weight of the man, dog, and gear in one giant bicep curl.

  Shrek broke out of the black depth, his jaw still latched onto Gonzalez’s duffel bag while the Mal gasped air through his clenched teeth. Hands shot into the water and pulled Gonzalez’s limp body out of the ocean and threw him onto the RIB’s floor. It was only when the men in the boat grasped the Marine that Shrek finally let go.

  Carver grabbed the dog and hugged him before pushing the brave Malinois up and into the rubber craft. Carver struggled over the side as well, landing on his butt next to a very wet and exhausted canine partner.

  But Carver’s joy was short-lived. Both Keele and Shader were performing chest compressions and pushing air into the dead Marine. It wasn’t working. Gonzalez was gone.

  Gonzalez

  Drowning isn’t so bad, he thought.

  After the initial terror, his brain started to dream. It felt like he was falling asleep on a lazy summer afternoon. There was no pain and for that, he was grateful.

  He slept. He dreamt. His lungs had stopped working and soon, his heart began to skip a beat. Then, it started pounding in his chest as the muscle tried to push oxygen to his dying brain. But the air in his lungs was poisoned with carbon dioxide, and his blood carried less and less of the life-giving gas. Soon, his heart quieted down to a light flutter. Then it stopped.

  His brain was working in overdrive while all this was happening. At first, his thoughts were vivid with sharp memories of his mother and sister dominating the visions. Soon, they became less real and more disjointed. The dog he had as a child was playing with him, then it suddenly sprouted wings and began to fly, pulling them both into the sky. He didn’t have the strength or control to make the animal let go. They seemed to float in the air.

  Then, everything went dark.

  Until the light shone.

  As bright as looking into the sun. Only this was a pure white that had no place on God’s earth. It was a light that made him think of Heaven.

  Was he in Heaven?

  The light sure looked like Heaven.

  He smiled.

  Until the pain.

  The burning.

  The sudden spasm inside his chest.

  Gonzalez lurched to his side and puked.

  Shader

  “Come on, you stupid grunt. BREATHE!”

  Gonzalez already was clammy and unresponsive, but Shader and Keele continued to pump his chest and breathe air into his lungs. The wet-and-cool skin was just a symptom of being immersed in the ocean and not of death. Shader kept telling himself that as nearly a minute went by with no response from the drowned man.

  Shader rolled Gonzalez on his side and squeezed his belly, forcing pressure under the ribcage. Water spurted out of the kid’s mouth. But still, he didn’t breathe.

  They rolled Gonzalez onto his back, where Shader opened his mouth and pinched off the kid’s nose. Lifting the young man’s neck up, he opened the throat and blew two heavy puffs into his lungs.

  Nothing.

  Then…something.

  “Come on, Gonzalez. Don’t give up.”

  Shader began to compress his chest again, when Gonzalez coughed. They rolled him onto his side, and a few more ounces of seawater came out. Gonzalez rolled to his back once again and gasped deeply. He began to cough and hack from the salty irritation to his throat and lungs.

  He was breathing. Shader and Keele fell back against the side of the boat, exhausted and overjoyed that they hadn’t lost their friend.

  “Is this Heaven?” Gonzalez croaked. “The light. The light.”

  The Seahawk hovered above, its spotlight glaring down on the scene. The half-drowned Marine stared up at the beam, looking like a stunned deer in the headlights.

  Shader rolled the young man onto his side and turned his head away from the glare. Gonzalez’s eyes failed to focus at first, but soon, he recognized Shader’s face.

  “This can’t be Heaven,” Gonzalez whispered. “You’re here.”

  Carver and Keele burst out laughing while Gonzalez continued to stare blankly at Shader’s face.

  “Sorry, kid. This ain’t Heaven.”

  Gonzalez began to recover. He looked at the other two. “It’s Hell, isn’t it?”

  “It ain’t Hell either,” Shader said.

  “Why not, Chief?”

  “Because the Devil won’t let me in. He’s afraid I’ll take over.”

  — 6 —

  Naval Air Station North Shore

  San Diego Naval Station

  Four Miles Offshore

  “Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

  ― L. Frank Baum

  The Wizard of Oz

  “You sure you’re all right?” Carver asked.

  “I don’t know how many times I can say it. I’m good,” Gonzalez croaked. His throat was still raw. “Besides, don’t you always tell us
to embrace the suck?”

  “Are you throwing my words back at me?” Carver asked jokingly.

  “Just doing what I’m told.”

  “Then, I think we’re a go,” Shader said. “But you’re staying with the boat.”

  “Jesus, Chief. I know. I don’t feel like moving much, anyway. It’s not like we have a choice. We’ve been through this a hundred times. If we abandon the RIB here in the ocean, we lose it. We take it onto the shore, we can recover it later. I’m fine. Just a little weak.”

  Carver shook his head. The kid was tough. Maybe even too stupid to know what was best for his own good. But he was unrelenting to a fault. He couldn’t hold that against him because Carver knew he’d do the same thing.

  “All right. Take us in.”

  Shader checked the craft’s GPS and turned west. The RIB’s engines responded, and they were soon bouncing through the ocean swells. Twenty minutes later, they were idling off the air station’s coast, a few hundred yards from Heritage Park. The four men stared at the wide beach through their NV monoculars. For several minutes, they scanned the sand and single-story bungalows that framed the back of the park.

  The area used to be a destination for vacationing naval families, but now looked like the remains of a decomposed animal carcass. The adobe cottages stood sentinel over the unkempt park, their darkened doors and windows either open or broken out. The grassy growth nearby was cluttered with human debris, clinging or entwined in the overgrown vegetation. Carver had seen pictures of Chernobyl after its nuclear disaster. The images before him could have been pulled from those photographs.

  “Radio check,” Carver said. Each man heard his call and affirmed that their coms were in order.

  “Bring us in, Master Chief,” Carver said.

  The RIB’s engines responded, and the craft slid forward. About ten yards from shore, Keele and Carver jumped into the knee-high, gently rolling surf. They pulled the boat onto dry land.

  Gonzalez stood tall as his companions grounded the craft, sweeping the space with his M4’s optics, aiming down the barrel as he searched for Variants. The other three formed up in front of the boat and did the same.

  “There are a shitload of buildings between us and those bladders. This won’t be easy,” Shader said.

  “The only easy day was yesterday. Right, Chief?” Keele said, quoting the SEAL motto.

  Shader barked quietly. “You’ve got that right, Marine.”

  Carver smiled, but the risks were high, and he quickly put on his game face. He had silently cursed when Jacobs described the location of the portable fuel bladders during their planning session. They were located in the middle of the station, over half a mile from the ocean. They were stored between a couple of large hangars where the Pacific Fleet’s squadron of C-2A Greyhound twin prop airplanes had been stationed. Behind the hangars was base housing and a large naval hotel. If the Variants were still there, those former housing structures would be an ideal home. It couldn’t have been a worse location.

  The four men turned the boat so it was facing back out into the ocean. Shader produced an empty ALICE pack from his duffel bag and filled it with his supplies, topped off by the nylon straps they’d used to transport the RIB. He slung it over his shoulders, then picked up his M4.

  “Gonzalez. Keep yourself safe. We need this craft ready if things go sideways. Do you copy?” he said.

  “Hard copy, Master Chief. Just make the call, and I’ll have this sucker in the surf and ready to rock.”

  Shader patted the Marine on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Rest until then, but stay frosty.”

  Gonzalez gave him a nod.

  “Let’s move,” Carver said.

  The three-man team silently crept forward. The beach area extended nearly fifty yards, with partially-covered remnants of its past occasionally poking through the smooth, flat sand. Several beach chairs, a couple of bent and broken umbrellas and even an overturned children’s wagon were in the process of being buried by the tide and blowing dunes.

  Eventually, they crept up to the group of beach cottages they’d first observed from the ocean. The structures were surrounded by an overgrowth of wild marram grass. The noxious weeds had sprung up in the absence of any maintenance and formed thick, hearty clumps reaching almost three feet in height. Paper, linens, and the occasional piece of discarded clothing were caught in their tendrils. Beyond the cottages, over half a mile away, they could see the base’s massive hangars.

  The ten small bungalows had been wrecked, their doors had been broken open, and most of the windows were smashed.

  “We need to clear those structures,” Shader whispered.

  Carver agreed. Never leave an enemy force behind your advancing line. It was a rule of war that had been pounded into him from day one.

  Carver led the way. He and Shrek easily maneuvered through the maze of growth. They approached the buildings and stopped at each smashed door. Shrek stuck his nose into each opening and, after a few moments, he would pull Carver into the room.

  Each structure was clear, although four of the ten showed severe damage and one had blackened blood spattered on its kitchen wall. No human remains were found.

  “Looks like everyone got away,” Keele said.

  “Or, they were taken away,” Shader said. “I saw some crazy shit back in the Forum.”

  “I don’t want to be a pessimist, but I’d bet on Shader’s theory,” Carver added.

  They pushed by the vacation homes and quickly found themselves facing the air station’s massive runway. They crouched in the waist-high grass and scanned the deteriorating base.

  The nearly four-story-high hangars were clustered across the way. The ones they were interested in were to their right, hugging the northern boundary of the installation.

  “If we move across the tarmac, there’s no cover. But if we go north first, we’ll run into more buildings.”

  “I’d rather not be seen. My vote is to go north. The Island Club is that way, and I’m familiar with the area. I’ve been to more than my share of wedding receptions there,” Shader said.

  “What about you, Keele?”

  “I’m going where the dog goes,” he replied.

  “Smart man,” Shader said. “For a Marine.”

  Keele wisely said nothing, earning him a mental gold star from Shader. It was a sign of intelligence to know when to keep your mouth shut.

  “Let’s take a right and follow Rogers Street,” Shader said, pointing to a road just ahead.

  “I’d like to cross it first,” Carver said. “The Navy hotel is on our side of the street, and I’d like to avoid that. Too many rooms for us to clear.”

  “We need to know if there are any Variants in there,” Shader countered. “Attaching the bladders to the Seahawk is going to be a noisy event, and I don’t like surprises.”

  “I’d prefer we skipped the hotel. The cottages had to be cleared because that was the quickest way onto the base, and we had to move right by them. The hotel can be bypassed for now.”

  “I don’t like leaving an unknown at our ‘six’.”

  “We need to verify the bladders are actually here. Hell, Jacobs could’ve confused them with a pallet of condoms,” Carver replied.

  “Condoms? What are those?” Shader joked.

  “I’m amazed you don’t have two or three little Shaders running around.”

  “Maybe I do. Who knows? I’ve been all over the world.”

  “Seriously, can we just get this over with?” Keele chimed in.

  “You’re not enjoying yourself?”

  “Sorry, Master Chief. But that visual you just painted kind of makes the Variants a little less frightening.”

  Carver smiled at Shader. “Sounds like our Marine is anxious to keep the mission on task.”

  “Oh, the stories you’ll be missing,” Shader grunted. “All right, let’s move.”

  The three men crept to the edge of the weed-covered space and crossed over. They moved south, acr
oss the road from the large Navy Lodge. The four-story building showed the same damage as the beachfront cottages. Shrek stopped and stared intently at the building for several seconds, before turning away.

  “Did he see anything?” Keele asked.

  “Nothing that needs our attention,” Carver replied.

  They scurried across a parking lot and settled into the overgrowth on the other side. Dozens of cars sat abandoned in the middle of the lot or still parked in their space. Some doors had been left ajar while most were still buttoned up. All had a thin crust of salt caked onto their surface. Six idle months sitting just a few hundred yards from the ocean had left its mark.

  They continued on with Shrek leading the way at a decent pace. With his nose raised and ears alert, they eventually found themselves hiding in a copse of trees and a thicket of underbrush outside a large, barrel-tile roofed building.

  “You ever been to the I-bar?” Shader whispered, pointing behind them at the large building.

  “Yeah. But I don’t remember a whole lot about the visit.”

  “Jeez. Is this whole base nothing but a giant bar and restaurant?” Keele chided.

  “Naw. That’s the Air Force.” Carver snickered. “But the kid’s right. We’ve had to pass a shitload of hotels. The base is huge.”

  “Well, we got just about everyone off the island during evac,” Shader replied.

  “Just to die on the open seas.” Keele sighed, remembering the night the Pacific Fleet was lost to the Variant virus the evacuees brought with them.

  “Replaced by tens of thousands of Variants,” Shader added.

  “Let’s stay focused,” Carver said. “But I have to say, I had my doubts things would be going this smooth. Maybe it’s the same here as it is on Catalina?”

  “I wouldn’t bet my life on it,” Keele said.

  “Now who’s the pessimist?” Shader asked.

  “I just want to get this over with. The quicker, the better.”

  “What’s wrong now?” Shader mocked the young man.

  “I don’t know,” the Marine replied. “I just got a feeling.”