There was no time to question what had happened with the RVAMP, only to focus on how to get the hell out of the city.
“Sir, collect your men and any survivors and get back to your chopper ASAP. We need to get the fuck out of here!” screamed Overton.
Noble turned to see the first wave of Spiders explode around the houses. The monsters crashed into one another, limbs and claws flailing in all directions.
Noble quickly slipped his helmet on. “Harrington, get our men back to the chopper. Tell them to grab only the strongest survivors. Have the rest of your men form a perimeter. Do not let those things get close!”
“Roger,” Harrington replied over the net.
Overton watched the NTC soldiers fan out over the lakebed. He stepped back and, with a sudden anxiousness, turned to Bouma. “Grab Sophie and get her to the chopper. Jeff, you go with him.”
“What about you?” asked Bouma. His voice was strained, like he already knew the answer.
“I’m going to look for the rest of our squad. Now move it!” Overton said, his legs moving before he finished speaking. He sprinted past Sophie and made his way down the row of poles. Scanning each face quickly, he worked his way from pole to pole.
Pandemonium broke out as Overton entered the heart of the farm. The chirp of automatic pulse rounds, even at a distance, was deafening. He could picture the NTC soldiers unloading magazine after magazine into the approaching horde—he could imagine the overwhelming fear they would inevitably feel when their rounds bounced harmlessly off the aliens’ shields.
Shit, he thought, remembering the electromagnetic pulse grenades. He brought his chin down to switch a private channel to Bouma. “Tell them to use ’nades.”
Static and gunfire overwhelmed Overton’s earpiece. The sound of war drowned out his voice. He tried again, “Bouma, do you read, over?”
“Yes . . . approaching chopper . . .” a distant-sounding voice responded.
“Tell them to use the electromagnetic grenades!” yelled Overton.
“Rog—” Bouma replied, his voice quickly cutting out.
Overton turned to look at the lakebed, but the forest of poles blocked his view. The intense blue glow that shrouded him made it difficult to see beyond a few yards. The longer he stood in one place, the blurrier his vision became. Standing inside the farm was like being in an old-fashioned tanning bed. His eyes were beginning to burn from the intense light.
With a sequence of blinks, he activated the protective tint on his visor. When his eyes finally adjusted, he saw for the first time the size of the farm. A moan from overhead drew his attention. He looked up for the source of the noise, but only saw the distorted faces of the unconscious prisoners staring back at him. Were they in some sort of trance? It was hard to tell, and Overton was not a doctor. He pushed on, navigating the rows quickly.
Making his way deeper, he tried to count the poles but lost track. There were at least a hundred, this he knew, with about a dozen humans attached to each. With only two rows left to explore, he knew the chances of finding one of his men alive was slim. But he couldn’t stop now. Not when he was so close. He’d let so many of his fellow marines down in the past.
Determined, he pushed on and stopped at the bottom of another pole. He tilted his head upward, counting the bodies as his eyes quickly scanned their clothing.
One.
Five.
Nine.
He stopped at ten. His eyes fixated on the green camouflage fatigues of a gaunt figure halfway up the pole.
“Shit.” Whatever electrical current was gluing the survivors to the poles could probably capture him just as easily. Sophie had warned him of this. With no time to find an off switch, he was forced to improvise.
He grabbed a magazine one of the NTC soldiers had handed him earlier and jammed it home. Pointing the barrel at the bottom of the pole, he slowly pulled back on the trigger.
Wait, he thought, tilting his helmet back up the pole. The marine was at least twenty-five feet up, so the fall alone could be fatal. Especially if he or she was already injured. There was no way of knowing exactly what condition the soldier was in.
Overton cursed and flared his nostrils.
More gunfire erupted in the distance. Two minutes had passed. He had less than that to get the marine down. The horde would be closing in on the chopper.
I can’t leave them.
He knew he had no other choice. Pointing his rifle at the bottom of the pole, he emptied his entire magazine into the alien architecture. A loud whine rumbled from under the dirt, and the glow of the pole pulsated several times before dying.
One by one, the prisoners slid down the pole. Overton tossed his rifle to the ground and rushed to help, but the bodies came crashing down too quickly. The sound of bones shattering echoed in his helmet, making him cringe. Seconds later, a pile of twisted people lay in a heap on the ground.
“No!” he screamed, digging through the bodies. More gunfire poured out in the background, followed by several concussions that sent tremors through the ground.
No time.
With all his strength, he jerked and pulled bodies off the pile, clawing desperately for the marine. He finally uncovered the green fatigues. He yanked another body off the top and gazed upon the marine’s face for the first time. The unfamiliar feeling of grief overwhelmed him. It was Lieutenant Allison Smith; the woman had been with his recon unit for five years.
Goddamn, it’s good to see her, Overton thought. He paused to look Smith over. Her eyes were open but glassy. There was no immediate sign of consciousness. Overton struggled to pull the woman free from the others, watching her chest for signs of life. Slowly it rose and fell.
“Thank God,” Overton whispered. “You’re going to be okay, Smith. Just hang in there.” He tapped her face with an armored finger, and Smith let out a deep groan. A deep gurgling sound crackled in her throat. She’d more than likely suffered internal damage and some broken bones. Nothing they couldn’t patch up back at the med ward.
With one last ounce of strength, he hefted the injured marine over his shoulders and began trekking back through the forest of poles. He ignored the pleas from several of the civilians who had somehow managed to wake up, their arms reaching toward him, begging for help. There was nothing he could do for any of them now.
By the time Overton got to the slope of the hill, the entire lakebed was filled with Spiders. He froze at the top of the bluff. With astonishment, he watched the creatures surround the chopper. The Spiders were desperate, sacrificing themselves by racing into the wave of pulse rounds. Inch by inch, the suicidal creatures crept closer to the helicopter.
The com came to life with Bouma’s voice. “Overton, where are you? We’re leaving!”
“On my way!” Overton replied. He cautiously made his way down the slope, careful not to lose his footing and accidentally drop his precious cargo. When he got to the lakebed, his legs began to resist. His body was giving up on him. With Smith’s weight on his shoulders, his knees were beginning to groan, and his shoulder wound was flaring up, sending sharp spikes of pain down his back.
Don’t give up. You’re so close, he thought. A dash of adrenaline gave him an extra burst of energy. His footfalls were longer, his stride more efficient; he was going to make it.
And then he slid to a stop, nearly toppling Smith over his shoulders. Spiders were flanking the chopper on both sides. Several of the NTC soldiers were torn from the line. Claws ripped through their armor like it was plastic wrap.
Overton closed his eyes, flinching every time one of the Spiders sunk a claw into one of the terrified men. The line was beginning to break.
There were screams, shrieks, and more gunfire. The landscape was soaked with red and blue blood. It was hell. Overton had seen it before. And for the first time in his career, he wasn’t sure what to do. With an empty rifle and Smith on h
is back, all he could do was watch.
As the NTC line broke, soldiers retreated toward the chopper. Bursts from NTC plasma rifles sent the Spiders tumbling across the dirt. But there were too many of them, and they were suicidal with hunger.
Overhead, the blades thumped through the stale air, sending clouds of dust into the sky. Overton watched the last two soldiers jump into the cargo bay as the chopper began to rise from the ground. He was too late—he was cut off.
He turned to look back up at the poles. He could try and escape, but only if he left Smith. And that wasn’t an option.
“Wait!” a voice yelled over the net. “Overton is still out there!”
Overton pushed Smith farther up onto his shoulders; they weren’t going to make it. He had to find another escape route. “You have to leave without us!”
Static broke back over the net as the chopper rose farther into the air. A thick plume of smoke flowed out of one of the rotors. Before he had a chance to turn and run, a soldier appeared on a minigun angled off the helicopter’s side. Several small objects flew out of the open door and landed in the mass of Spiders below. At first Overton couldn’t make them out, but the sound of their deafening explosions quickly made him smile. The NTC soldiers were trying to save him.
The whine from the automatic pulse gun barked to life as the minigunner opened fire on the now-defenseless Spiders below. The rounds tore into the aliens, sending them crashing across the cracked dirt. Blue mist filled the area where the aliens had clustered. Nothing but gory chunks of meat left where a dozen of the creatures had stood moments earlier.
Overton didn’t waste the moment. With a deep grunt, he willed his legs forward and closed his eyes, sprinting for the safety of the chopper. His lungs burned with every breath and pain shot down his wounded shoulder.
Smith’s weight was unbearable, but it also gave him strength.
Only a few more steps, you old turd.
The chopper had lowered nearby. Skidding to a stop, he kicked alien body parts out of his way and attempted to lift Smith’s body into the air. Grunting, he pushed her off his shoulders with all his strength toward a pair of hands reaching down from above.
When Overton saw it was Bouma, he smiled. The marine had been loyal on every mission, never questioning orders, never hesitating when faced with danger.
With a final push, he heaved Smith’s limp body into the air. Bouma pulled her into the safety of the chopper. Gasping for air, Overton waited for his turn.
The Spiders were getting closer now. They circled around him.
Desperate now, Overton attempted to lift his right arm. It fell back to his side, limp and numb.
“Overton!” Bouma yelled, reaching down for him.
With every bit of strength he had left, he jumped for Bouma’s hand. Their armored fingers interlocked for a brief second. The world slowed to a crawl. They both knew exactly what the other was thinking. The tide had finally turned. Humanity had a shot at survival after all.
But for Overton, the fight was over. A Spider’s claws tore into his back, puncturing clear through his chest. Gasping, razor-sharp pain rushed into his lungs and webbed down his body. He crashed to the ground with the claw still inside his chest.
“No!” Bouma yelled as the chopper pulled into the air.
Overton coughed out a mouthful of blood. “Go,” he managed to choke out, raising a hand to wave the bird away. He watched the chopper rise farther into the air, Bouma’s visor slowly getting smaller as the man reached down for him. A spasm rushed through Overton’s body as the Spider ripped its claw free from his chest and tossed his limp body into the air. He landed in the heart of the horde, crashing onto the dry ground with a thud.
The Spiders ignored the escaping chopper and surrounded his body, forming a circle around him, their claws taunting him as they dug through the ground.
“Fuck you,” Overton tried to yell. But a deep, terrible choking sound came out instead. He watched the Spiders scamper closer to him. In a blur of shimmering blue light they engulfed him. Claws jerked and tore at his body. Mandibles released hungry shrieks. Their claws ripped through his armor. Stars bled across his vision.
He coughed again as a claw tore into his stomach, jerking him into a sitting position, before another claw nailed his shoulder to the ground. He screamed in pain, but the agony faded as the life drained from his body. He caught one final glimpse of the chopper between the repeated stabs, and he tried to smile. He had saved Smith and most of his squad. The mission had been a success.
His lips twisted into a half grin as a claw came down on his visor, splintering the glass.
CHAPTER 33
SOPHIE emerged from a deep sleep to the sound of voices. She struggled to open her eyes, suddenly filled with panic. Her mind was clouded in fog.
She narrowed her eyes and focused on the blurred faces.
“Sophie . . .” one of the hushed voices said, as if to test whether she was awake. Holly stared down at her.
“It’s okay, you’re safe,” said another voice.
She recognized the voice as Emanuel’s, but didn’t have the energy to look at him.
“How long have I been out?” Sophie asked.
Emanuel whistled. “She’s back!” he yelled. “You’ve been out two days. And you have one hell of a concussion.”
“The ship . . .” she choked.
Emanuel smiled sourly. “NTC almost blew it out of the sky. The Organics didn’t even retaliate; they simply disappeared.”
“NTC?”
“Captain Noble from the submarine Ghost of Atlantis had been tracking the Biosphere radio signal. They showed up with a chopper just in time.”
Sophie raised a hand to her battered head. She couldn’t remember any of it. The last memory she had was of the explosions.
“How did I get out of the ship?” she asked, rubbing her forehead.
The smile on Emanuel’s face disappeared, his features turning grave. “What do you mean?”
“How did I get out of the Organics’ ship?”
Emanuel stared back at her blankly. “I don’t follow . . .”
Holly touched Sophie’s wrist gently. “Sweetie, you were never inside the ship. Bouma brought you to the chopper after you were knocked unconscious in the middle of the farm.”
Sophie shook her head. “No, that isn’t right. I was inside. I saw . . .” She paused, trying to remember. “I saw them.”
Holly and Emanuel exchanged confused looks.
“Them?” Emanuel asked, his brow creased into an arch.
“The multidimensional Organics,” Sophie said. Excitement rushed through her as she began to remember. The Organics’ civilization on Mars, the black ships hovering over Europa. The images popped into her memory as if she were still watching them.
Emanuel pulled away from her bed and crossed his arms. “Sophie, you hit your head really hard. Whatever you think you saw was just—”
“No!” she protested, her voice getting louder. “I was inside that ship. I saw what happened to them. I saw Mars millions of years ago when the planet was partially covered in oceans. I watched their civilization destroyed by a massive volcano below the sea. I watched their ships trail a comet and collect the icy residue. I saw them harvesting the ice on Europa. There’s more, too. They have traveled to other solar systems. They’ve collected life from other planets.”
“Stop!” Emanuel yelled.
Sophie widened her eyes, startled by his raised voice.
Unfolding his arms, Emanuel crouched next to her bed and very softly said, “Sophie, you dreamt those things.”
“He’s right. It was nothing but a dream,” Holly said.
Sophie tried to collect her thoughts, focusing on the memories. They were so vivid. Just like her other dreams. Only these were real. Weren’t they?
Alexia’s voice cra
ckled over the speakers. “Doctor Winston, your vitals indicate you are distressed. You have been through some severe trauma. May I suggest—”
“No, you may not, Alexia,” Sophie said forcefully. She closed her eyes and tried to recall anything that might be useful. Anything that might prove it wasn’t all just another dream—that it wasn’t just another product of the chip NTC had surgically placed in her neck.
She reached behind her head and ran her index finger over the scar. As she did, she noticed something had changed in Emanuel’s features. He no longer looked concerned—he looked frightened.
Sophie winced. She knew how she sounded, but she also knew what she had seen. The brief moment of silence was just enough to encourage her to continue.
“Doctor Hoffman knew about the invasion all along. And he knew enough about the Organics to understand they would leave Earth desolate, just like they did Mars. He knew there was no way to defeat them. That’s why he never developed Luke Williard’s technology.” Sophie paused so she could gauge Emanuel’s reaction. He looked back at her with wide eyes.
Growing angry, Sophie sat up. In a raised voice she continued, “The Biospheres weren’t just an experiment to help colonize Mars. The mission was never to help humanity escape from Earth. Don’t you see? It was to help humanity escape the Organics.”
“Look,” Emanuel said, running a hand through his hair. “What you’re saying makes no sense. Why would he have wanted to escape from one dying planet to another? Why go through all the trouble to convince the world that—”
“Because he knew the Organics wouldn’t chase us there! He knew they would have no reason to return to a planet they had already drained and destroyed,” Sophie said. She looked at each of them in turn and then reached out to Emanuel. “Please. You have to listen to me.”
There was softness in his eyes as he looked down at her, like he actually felt bad for her. Then he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you,” he whispered into her ear. “But you were just dreaming, Sophie.”
Emanuel stood up and paced over to Holly to whisper in her ear.
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