Extinction Survival Series (Book 3): Cost of Survival

by Browning, Walt

  The green hue of his night vision monocular had not given him a sense of the scene, just a flat-green image, but now the flash from his suppressor was bright enough to give Carver’s left, unaided eye the light it needed to see.

  The creatures turned and screamed, then as a group, spread massive wings and pushed off into the air.

  “What in God’s name?!” Carver cried as he emptied his magazine at the nearest flying monster.

  It wavered then clumsily continued its flight, joining more of the creatures that were gliding across the star-studded sky. One of them dove at Carver. He released his grip on the edge of the hatch and dropped, just as large claws swiped at the space where his head had been. Carver landed with a thud, ten feet down, while the enormous creatures flew away, screeching.

  “What the hell was that?” Shader’s voice said over the squad radio.

  Carver remained still, stunned from the drop. Fortunately, the edge of a cushioned chair and his CamelBak water reservoir had softened his fall. Carver could feel a wetness spreading over his back where the water bladder had exploded. His hips, however, were screaming at him.

  “Red One, report!” Shader called. His fear bled through the radio signal.

  “This is Red One actual. I’m fine,” Carver grunted.

  After his teammates gently helped him to his feet, Carver looked up at the open hatch. The stars stared back at him as if nothing unusual had happened. But he knew better. There was now an even more horrific and deadly creature out there, and it could strike anywhere, at any time. He slowly reached down and scratched Shrek’s neck. His hair had dropped back down. The threat was gone, and the dog licked his hand.

  “What was it?” one of them finally asked.

  “Satan,” Carver said somberly. “It was Satan with wings.”

  Shader appeared from the stairwell and joined Carver under the hatch. Carver began to turn, but a spasm shot down both legs, and he dropped to his knees. Two of his men grabbed him before he went all the way to the floor.

  “Crap,” he muttered as the traumatized nerve pulsated in his lower back. “Give me a moment.”

  “Been there,” Shader said as he turned to one of his men. “Help the chief up and take him down to the restaurant.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Carver said.

  “I know, but I have a few years on you. You need to get off your feet. It’s going to take a while for your back to settle down.”

  The two men bracketed Carver and helped him down the stairs. Shrek followed closely behind.

  “You,” Shader said, pointing at one of the members of the Black Team, “close that hatch. Everyone is on watch. I want fireteams together. No one is alone.”

  Shader reorganized the groups so each point of entry had at least two on watch then joined Carver below, who was lying on floor, giving his back a chance to relax.

  “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Carver said, referring to Shader barking out orders.

  “Sometimes I miss it, ordering these idiots around and making their lives miserable,” Shader replied. “We both know I outrank you.”

  “I know. I wondered why you hadn’t tried to take over.”

  Carver had left the Navy as an E-7, whereas Shader had gotten to Senior Chief Petty Officer, or E-8.

  “So far, you’ve done everything I’d have done,” Shader said. “I haven’t seen the need to correct you.”

  Carver grinned. “Bite me.”

  “Seriously, these people respect you. Not that they don’t respect me, but you have their loyalty, and quite frankly, I really don’t want your job.”

  “You can have it, you know.”

  “No thanks. I’ll gladly let you be the captain of the ship.”

  “Oh! That reminds me. We need to alert the Freedom,” Carver said.

  “Already done,” Shader replied. “They’re buttoning down as we speak. And I’ve asked them to contact Lost Valley. If these things just started raiding livestock in the past few weeks, they might be new to the area, and the camp may be at risk.”

  Carver’s face dropped; his first thoughts were of Hope.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find their lair and take them out. You just need to rest your back. In the morning, we’ll head down to the ranch and figure out what to do.”

  — 23 —

  Santa Catalina Island

  El Rancho Escondido

  The nineteen-twenties were a time of greatness in America. In 1918, the First World War ended. The “War to End All Wars” ravaged Europe, draining the continent’s coffers of money while eight and a half million souls lost their lives. The following year, a pandemic of the Spanish flu infected nearly a third of the world’s population and killed twenty million more, further crippling the fragile European economies.

  The ensuing decade was a time of celebration and growth, especially in America. Freed from the ravages of war and emboldened by victory, the United States went on a building spree, creating immense wealth for a few, who found creative ways to spend their money. One of these indulgences was on Catalina Island, where Chicago’s Wrigley family decided to breed horses.

  Why choose an isolated desert island to raise world-class racing animals? Because they could. El Rancho Escondido began life as an equine breeding facility, but in recent years, had morphed into a vineyard. Many of the nearby fields that used to harbor Arabian horses had been repurposed to grow grapes.

  “Check it out,” Shader said, pointing to their left. El Ranchito Escondido sat above them, its white stucco and terracotta barrel-tiled roof shining in the distance.

  “Beautiful.” Carver sat on the passenger side, some of his spare clothing tucked under his lower back.

  As the three tactically-reinforced trucks drove up to the ranch’s main house, they gawked at the rows of white grape vines. The winter weather had stripped them of their leaves and along many of the rows, rotting fruit lay below where they’d dropped.

  As they approached the Mexican-style ranch, they noticed a group of bison grazing in a nearby, wire-enclosed field. Several ranch hands were working in an adjoining large garden, turning the soil and adding manure in preparation for the upcoming planting season.

  Dr. Maxwell strode out of the building. The way she carried herself left no doubt about her position. With confident strides and shoulders thrown back, she radiated poise and control.

  “Damn. She fills out those jeans, doesn’t she?” Shader remarked.

  Carver had to chuckle. Even with a sore back, it felt good to hear his friend lighten up a bit.

  “Gentlemen,” Maxwell said as she leaned against the driver’s door. “How was your night?”

  “Not so good,” Shader remarked. “We need to talk.”

  Chloe saw the seriousness in Shader’s and Carver’s faces.

  “All of us?” she said, waving her hands at the three trucks.

  “No. Maybe just you, me, and Carver,” Shader replied.

  “There’s a visitors’ center to the left,” she said, pointing to the winery’s reception center. “We can make your people comfortable there and the three of us can go to the kitchen.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Carver replied.

  “Dismount,” Shader said over the squad radio.

  Carver struggled as he spun to get out. Maxwell noticed and walked quickly to the other side.

  “What happened?” Chloe said as she braced him under his shoulder.

  “I kind of fell.”

  “It must have been quite a tumble,” she replied as Carver gently walked up the gravel drive.

  Another ranch hand came out of a side door and rushed over to Maxwell. She handed Carver over to the man and gave him instructions in Spanish.

  “I told him to take you to my examination room.”

  “I’ll be fine. I just need…”

  “Let me get one thing straight,” she said. “This is my land, and when you’re on it, I’m the boss. You will listen to me. Is that clear?”

  Shader snorted a
s Carver raised his eyebrows at her tone.

  After a moment, he replied. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ll get your people situated. When I get back, we’re going to make sure you’re all right. I expect you to be in nothing but your pants.”

  “Aye aye,” Carver replied.

  Chloe spun and took control of the remaining teams, directing them along the sidewalk toward the visitor reception center.

  “I like her a lot,” Shader said grinning.

  Carver chuckled. “You can take my place, if you want.”

  “Take my clothes off for her? In a heartbeat.”

  Carver just shook his head as the ranch hand helped him hobble to Chloe’s treatment room.

  The space had once been used as an equine examination room. Antique veterinary equipment was scattered on the walls and in old-style porcelain cabinetry. Shader picked up a large syringe and waved it at his friend.

  “Shot, anyone?” he deadpanned.

  “I could use it on you, Chief Shader,” Chloe replied, as she entered the room.

  She grabbed the nearly foot-long cylinder. It had a plunger on the end, large enough to wrap his entire hand around. She pumped it back and forth.

  “It was used to inseminate livestock,” she said. “I don’t think you’d like it.”

  Carver laughed at Shader as his friend blushed.

  “Miguel!” she called out.

  The ranch hand who brought them to the room appeared.

  “Take Señor Shader to the kitchen and get him some coffee.”

  “If it’s all the same,” Shader replied. “I’d like to be here during the examination. I don’t often get a chance to see my friend get a rectal.”

  “Get out of my office!” she said with a smirk.

  Carver could hear Shader laughing as he left.

  “Tell me what happened,” Chloe said.

  “You need to hear the whole story,” Carver replied. “We found out where your livestock went.”

  Through the course of the examination, Carver told her about the giant flying Variants. Not only did they pose a threat to Catalina, but they could potentially get to Hope and the rest of the camp.

  “My wife…well, not really my wife. We don’t have a minister or priest to marry us. Anyway, Hope is pregnant. She’s carrying my first child.”

  Chloe smiled widely. “That’s great. I needed some good news for a change. How far along is she?”

  “Less than three months,” he replied. “But we aren’t really sure.”

  “What does your doctor say?”

  “He’s a paramedic, not a doctor. We tried to rescue a physician not too long ago, but it didn’t work out that well.”

  “Then I need to see her,” Chloe said. “I have a functional ultrasound and I’ve delivered my fair share of babies.”

  “Horses, not people,” Carver replied. “And there’s no electricity for your ultrasound.”

  “Not yet. I just need a solar setup. I wanted to ask you if you’d be able to supply the ranch with one. If you did, I’d have a fully functioning medical office.”

  “We could do that for you.” Carver paused for a moment to think. “Is the ultrasound portable? We have electricity at the camp. Maybe you could come visit and give us all a once-over.”

  “Yes, it is and I’d be happy to examine your people. I’d also love to see your set up. The camp sounds like a dream.”

  “Great. Let’s get to the kitchen and figure this out.”

  Carver grunted as he dropped down to the concrete floor. Chloe had taped an instant cold pack to his back and given him a steroid shot for the swelling. It had yet to kick in.

  “You need to rest,” she said.

  “I’ll get some when we finish the job. We need to make the island safe, then I can get back home.”

  Chloe began cleaning up. Carver watched her out of the corner of his eye as she moved around the room. She was attractive in both a physical and emotional way. He could easily see why Shader was smitten by her.

  “I don’t know if it’s appropriate to say, but Shader seems to like you.”

  He’d been looking for an opportunity to bring up the subject, and this would be the last time they’d be out of Shader’s hearing.

  “He’s just a big kid, isn’t he?” she said as Carver put his clothing back on.

  He grunted a small laugh as he picked up his battle belt. “You’ve no idea.”

  Chloe watched him wrap the heavy strap around his waist. “If it’s too much, don’t wear it.”

  “Doesn’t matter. My spare magazines and sidearm are not leaving my side.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. Carver was a warrior first. Everything else took a backseat, except for maybe his wife, Hope. Dr. Maxwell could see that she meant the world to him.

  “I know he likes me,” she said, returning to the topic of Shader. “I could see it when we first met.”

  “And you?” Carver asked, pressing the issue.

  Chloe gave him a non-committal grin and patted him on the shoulder. “Follow me,” she said, holding the door open for both Carver and Shrek. She looked down at the Mal and smiled. “I’ve got a couple of herding dogs here.”

  “They make life a little less alone, don’t they?”

  Chloe nodded and scratched Shrek’s nape. “That, they do.”

  In the kitchen, Shader and Miguel were sitting at the table, conversing in Spanish.

  “You speak Spanish,” Chloe remarked.

  “Well, more castellano centroamericano,” Shader said. “I spent a lot of time in El Salvador and Honduras.”

  “The soldier is speaking good,” the worker said with a heavy accent.

  “Gracias, compadre!” Shader took a long swig of domestic beer then stifled a burp, which was unusual for the seasoned veteran. “Excuse me,” he grumbled.

  “That sounded like it hurt,” Carver said.

  “Nah. It was a small burp,” Shader replied. He gave Carver the stink eye for noticing.

  “Not the burp, the apology.”

  Shader flipped Carver the bird, earning a sarcastic grin in return.

  “Okay, you two. It’s time to be big boys now,” Chloe said. “We have a serious problem to deal with.”

  Carver noticed she sat down on Shader’s side of the table. Watching his friend squirm as she scooted her chair next to his was the highlight of his day.

  “We need to find out where their lair is,” Carver said. “They seem to prefer the night, given that they are foraging for food after dark.”

  Shader nodded his agreement. “We could have Everly make runs over the island. His IR camera should pick these things up.”

  “I like it. Simple and direct,” Chloe replied. “But in the meantime, how do I protect my livestock?”

  “We light up your field,” Carver said. “We’d just need to corral them into an area we can manage and stand watch.”

  “How do I light up the space without electricity?”

  “We have four vehicles. Their headlights should be enough to illuminate a small baseball field.”

  “It’s worth a try. I can have the livestock confined next to the garden.” Chloe looked at her watch. “It starts to get dark about four-thirty.”

  “We’ll have our vehicles positioned by four,” Carver said. “Running the trucks all night will eat up our fuel. I’ll contact Lost Valley and have a shipment of gasoline brought in.”

  “No need,” Chloe said. “I scavenged the island’s only fuel truck. It’s in one of the barns out back.”

  “Well, aren’t you one step ahead of everything?” Shader said.

  “I’m glad you’re impressed,” she replied.

  “We have all morning and afternoon. I would like to recon Avalon and see what’s happening there,” Shader added.

  Carver stood up. The ice and steroid were taking effect. His back was starting to feel normal again. He’d also popped one of his 800 mg Motrin tablets earlier. With the steroid reducing the swelling, the pr
escription-strength medicine was finally kicking in. Pain pills often worked better preventing pain rather than stopping it. He’d remember that and keep up with his ibuprofen from now on. It could be tough on his stomach, but better to risk an ulcer than die because some soreness slowed him down.

  “It’s working,” he said, grinning. “Pain is almost gone.”

  Shader patted his friend on the shoulder. “Perfect. You’re the boss again.”

  “Well, then. Let’s get a move on it. Daylight’s burning.”

  “Do you need me?” Shader asked. “I’d like to stay here and harden the defenses.”

  Carver was surprised that his friend was backing away from a mission, even though it was going to be a simple op and had a low probability of seeing any action.

  “Really, Shader,” Chloe said, “we can do that another day.”

  “Please, call me Ray,” he replied. “It’s Rayford, an old family name. But I prefer Ray.”

  “All right, Ray. I think keeping Carver safe is more important than roaming around the ranch.”

  “No. Ray can stay here,” Carver interjected. “It’ll be fine. I doubt there’ll be anything dangerous out there in the middle of the day.”

  “See? It’ll be fine,” Porky added.

  “But…” Chloe said, before Carver cut her off.

  “No, doc. We’re good. I’ll have my team with me. Besides, if I relied on Pork… I mean, Ray to keep me safe, I’d have been dead months ago.”

  Rather than give a snide reply, Shader just nodded.

  “See? He’s going to be fine. I think it’s just as important to maximize our defensive posture here. It’s going to take some time and local knowledge. Will you be able to help?”

  “I, uh, yes. Sure. I can help,” Chloe stammered.

  “Great. I’ll get my gear from Carver’s truck and be right back.”

  Shader practically sprinted out of the kitchen.

  Carver began to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Chloe said, still stunned at the predicament she’d agreed to.