All around him, hunting rifles crackled, automatic fire chattered, shotguns roared. He’d holstered his FNX Tactical for now, at least until he could make it back to the hall, where he’d stashed his backpack full of ammo. The three magazines he kept on him were spent, but the combat knife would never run out of ammo, and it suited the close-quarters combat that was becoming more and more necessary.
Benson’s people were fighting with admirable resolve. Benson himself and Maisie stuck together, roaming the house just as Ted did, sticking Ravagers with hunting knives—Maisie had steak knives—that protruded downward from their clenched fists. Ted could criticize their form, but not their ferocity. He’d seen them experience a couple close calls, but they were hanging in there, and he didn’t exactly have the time to train them in proper knife-fighting technique just now.
Ted tried to avoid glancing out the windows, focusing solely on the fight inside the house. But sometimes he slipped, and let himself see the sheer numbers outside, all clamoring to get in at the defenders.
Rounds rained down on the heads of the mindless, from the handful of turrets Benson had installed just below the farmhouse’s roof, but the overall effect was minimal. Ravagers fell, and others replaced them. The only thing keeping the house from being overrun were the bottlenecks provided by the doors and windows, almost all of which had been compromised.
He heard Benson say something to Maisie about “the nuclear option.” His ears perked up at that.
Maisie gave a grim nod, then left the dining room to go to the hall. A Ravager almost took her out when she rounded the corner, but their tussle ended with a steak knife sticking out of its skull. She tried to dislodge it, but it was stuck, so she gave up and continued into the hallway.
Ted wanted to ask Benson what the nuclear option was, but more Ravagers were coming through the living room windows, and they needed killing. The two men fell on them, knives flashing.
The big wheat farmer finished with his foe, then stepped back, cupping his hands to his mouth as best he could while holding two hunting knives.
“Cover your ears and get down!”
With that, Benson charged forward, sticking a Ravager before he could make it through the window. That blocked the point of entry for a few seconds.
Ted realized Benson was motioning to him. “Get away from the window,” he yelled, though over the tumult Ted could barely make out the words. He was tangled up with a Ravager, and couldn’t disengage without opening himself up.
The blast hit, blowing the Ravager forward on top of him. Even shielded by his attacker’s body, Ted felt like a giant’s fist had slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs. They both flew into the house as timbers creaked and the final glass fragments were freed from window frames to hurtle through the living room as deadly projectiles.
Several objects struck the house’s exterior in a wet staccato. Ted landed on his back, the Ravager coming down on top of him, crushing him. A disembodied arm flew through the window and sailed over them to land on the couch, and a shower of blood rained down on top of them.
Ted managed to get a hand free, but could only reach the man’s back. The knife sank into flesh again and again as the thing tried to reach his face, no doubt to gouge out his eyes or something equally unpleasant.
A blade punched through the back of the Ravager’s throat, glinting there. Benson’s hunting knife. He drove it upward and into the brain, then used the leverage to heave the vibrating mass off of Ted and onto the carpet.
“What was that?” Ted managed to croak as Benson hauled him to his feet by the hand.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the ring of holes circling the property.”
“I saw them.”
“Well, now you know what they were. We snagged the dynamite from a locked shipping container on a construction site in Medicine Lodge. Vick was on the bomb squad for the local PD, so he wired up a remote detonator for us.”
“The nuclear option.”
“You got it. Let’s hope it was enough.” Benson jerked his head toward the windows. “Come on. This isn’t over.”
He was right. Another wave of Ravagers was advancing on the house. Their numbers were thinned, but the attack was still underway.
Benson and Ted took up positions at separate windows.
Ted’s movements were stiff, his weariness bone-deep. Each knife thrust took an effort of will, and he began to get sloppy. Jagged nails found his ear, shredding it, and teeth found the base of his neck, chewing hungrily until he planted the combat knife into the Ravager’s skull.
His face and arms were slick with sweat and blood, some of it his, most of it not. He turned to face the next invader to find the window empty.
Is it over?
Was that possible?
“Come on,” Benson said. Even the big man, who seemed to brim constantly with energy, sounded tired.
Ted followed him through the living room, through the kitchen, and into the hall. On the way outdoors, he crouched near his backpack and fished out his speed loader, using it to fill his pistol’s magazine. That done, he racked the slide, loading one of the rounds into the weapon’s chamber, and added one more round into the magazine.
Outside, Ravagers still pressed in around the barn. Benson had picked up an AR-15 from the body of a teenager who’d died defending the front door, and together they began picking off the creatures pressuring the barn, clearing the entrance.
They advanced inside.
Jimmy, Benson’s daughter, and a mustached man Ted didn’t know were all standing on the hayloft and firing down into the mass of Ravagers that were trying to get up at them.
One of the trio had managed to kick the ladder away from where it had been nailed to the raised wooden platform, denying the attackers that route.
With Ted and Benson flanking them, the Ravagers filling the barn were felled quickly. In less than a minute, the shooting had stopped, and all was quiet.
Ted’s eyes met Jimmy’s, and he nodded up at him. Then he turned to Benson. “Time to put together that search party.”
The big man’s eyebrows shot up. “Now?”
Ted nodded. “Now.” He held Benson’s gaze until the large farmer nodded back.
“Okay, then.”
37
4 days to extinction
They broke from the trees to find the camp beset by Ravagers.
“Shit,” Janet spat, clawing her pistol from its holster and fingering the safety off. “I want two teams watching the Edwards, Zimmerman. I don’t want to take any chances with them. Use the rest of your men to clean up this mess.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The first sergeant turned back to his men and began arranging them to retake the camp.
Today was certainly a roller coaster.
Within seconds, the returning GDA operatives spread out to maximize their fields of fire and outflank the Ravagers besetting the camp.
Where are the lookouts?
Then, she saw one, lying prone atop the mobile command post, picking off attackers below with bursts from his M4.
At least, he was trying to shoot them. His movements were labored, and it seemed to be affecting his aim. What’s wrong with him? Where are the others?
Like Zimmerman, Janet joined the soldiers in advancing, taking careful aim at the available targets. There weren’t many left, though. Where had they gone?
Then, it hit her: they’d broken through. The crazies were inside the camp.
Thankfully, there weren’t too many of them. Within minutes, her soldiers had pressed inward, following the attackers inside the circled vehicles to chew them up from behind.
The attack had taken its toll, however. Four men lay dead, torn apart where they’d fallen.
Then, she noticed something odd about the bodies. They all had gunshot wounds as well—a hole where each had been shot, paired with gaping exit wounds. She hadn’t yet seen any crazies using firearms. Had their programming changed again, to give them the cognition ne
cessary to operate weapons at that level?
The men Zimmerman had assigned to watch the Edwards now brought them into the camp, moving a troop carrier aside to admit the horse.
Janet’s gaze was on the asset’s face, watching carefully as he entered the camp, reveling in her success. When he noticed the dead bodies, his eyes widened, and a nauseated-looking grimace twisted his lips.
What’s that about? He looks almost guilty.
“Put them in the command trailer for now,” she told the soldiers, then headed to the other trailer to look for Ethan.
She didn’t have to go far. The trailer’s door hung open, and Ethan lay on the floor inside, clutching his pistol against his chest, his eyes shut.
“Ethan!” Cursing under her breath, she sprinted up the steps and knelt beside him.
His eyes fluttered open. To the left, a trail of blood led from one of the desks—apparently, he’d dragged himself from there.
“Hey.” His mouth quirked. “You almost sound worried.”
“Of course I’m worried. Worried that our combat operations officer is determined to get himself killed.” She twisted around to shout out the door. “Medic!” She turned back to Ethan. “What happened?”
“The asset happened.” Ethan’s voice had been reduced to a dry rasp. “He came here, Janet. He came to us. And then he dealt with us.”
Janet shook her head, not sure how to parse what Ethan was saying.
He shrugged, and the motion made him wince. “I should have had him, is what I guess I should say, but…well, you’re not going to believe me. But the others will back me up. The asset has capabilities we didn’t anticipate.”
“What capabilities?”
“Kind of hard to describe.”
“Try, Ethan.”
A voice spoke from behind her. “Uh, ma’am?”
Pettigrew, one of their three men trained in combat casualty care, stood outside.
Janet stood and stepped over Ethan to make way for the medic. “Come in.”
The young man climbed inside, opening up his kit next to Ethan and getting to work on his thigh.
“Tell me, Ethan. What capabilities?”
He gave a more shallow shrug than before. “What capabilities would a super soldier have?”
“Are you telling me the asset is a super soldier?”
“From the way he fought…yeah. He’s only been through Basic Training, right?”
She nodded.
“Well, he’s way better than he should be. He moved too fast. Aimed too well. He executed his attack as well as our best soldier would have, after drilling that exact situation for months on end. He probably executed it better, actually. It was perfect.”
Ethan stared at the ceiling, barely reacting as Pettigrew extracted bullet fragments from his ruptured thigh. A belt had already been pulled tight around the agent’s leg, above the wound. Ethan had probably done that himself.
He’s telling the truth, she realized. Why would he lie about this?
Without another word, she stepped over Ethan, shoved past Pettigrew, and ran outside.
“Zimmerman!”
The first sergeant dropped the conversation he’d been having with one of the wounded men and sprinted over to her.
“The asset is in the command trailer?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I want you to storm the trailer with your best team. Treat it as though there’s a highly dangerous operative inside, capable of basically anything.”
“Ma’am, I…don’t understand. All three of the Edwards were checked for—”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Sergeant. I gave you an order.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned and pointed to one of his men, motioning for the man to join him, as he approached a group of three others gathered near one of the Bradleys.
Her eyes were glued to the door of the mobile command trailer. What does this mean? Had the asset been training in secret? No. That was impossible. They’d surveilled and documented his every waking since birth.
That only left one possibility: the aliens. Were they controlling him, or had they augmented him somehow? And if he’d benefited from their aid, was it a conscious decision on his part?
Had the asset chosen to side with the invaders against humanity?
She shook herself. Right now, she needed to focus on getting him out of that trailer and into a more confined space, with fewer things he could turn into weapons. If he was truly a super soldier, as Ethan said, who knew what he might be capable of? And what if he figured out how to access the computers? She shuddered to think of what sort of advantage he might be able to spin out of the information they contained.
Zimmerman gave a signal, and one of his men unlocked the command trailer’s door, throwing it open for the others to pour in. The first sergeant followed them inside.
Several long seconds past.
Unable to wait any longer, Janet motioned to a pair of soldiers to accompany her.
“Draw your weapons,” she hissed at them.
They exchanged confused looks, but did as she ordered.
She entered the trailer with her weapon drawn.
Inside, Zimmerman had the Edwards lying on the floor, each with their hands over the backs of their heads.
Janet exhaled slowly. “What were they doing?”
“Just sitting, ma’am.” The first sergeant’s voice was a study in neutrality.
“Take the asset and put him in the same truck where we were keeping her.” Janet nodded at Cynthia Edwards. “I want an entire team watching him at all times.”
Cynthia spoke, though she didn’t move. “Janet, please. Don’t separate us again. Please.”
A few moments passed as Janet considered the request, weighing the risk. Could the Edwards share anything with the asset that he might use against her? Possibly. But she would also likely need his cooperation, at least on some level. Coercion only went so far. She would need to make some concessions.
“Fine. Put all three of them in there.”
She oversaw the asset’s interment in the truck personally. Once he was locked inside with his former guardians and under heavy guard, she returned to the other trailer to speak to Ethan again.
Pettigrew had moved Ethan to a bench built into the trailer’s wall, where he’d wrapped his thigh. The medic was nowhere to be seen, now—probably, he was outside tending to more critical injuries. Janet was alone in the trailer with Ethan.
“So we have the asset,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “You might have mentioned that.”
“You figured it out. Besides, containing him seemed more important.”
“I guess you’re right. So, what now?”
“Now, we go to Colorado.”
“I see. And what do you plan to say to Andrews, after everything that’s happened? After everything you’ve done?”
“I don’t know.” Janet realized she was stroking the butt of her holstered pistol, and she made herself stop.
38
4 days to extinction
They sat in silence for most of an hour, with Cynthia atop one of the wheel wells and Max and Peter on the floor, both unwilling to take the remaining seat.
Then, without warning, the truck began to move. The ride was bumpy as they left the field where the GDA had made its camp. A final jolt signaled that they’d made it to the road.
A dome light provided some visibility, casting the compartment in a gray gloom. Max avoided eye contact with the couple he’d once called his parents, his eyes locked onto the opposite wall instead.
When they’d encountered Janet in the woods, along with dozens of soldiers, Max hadn’t even considered trying to fight. He could tell Janet had meant it when she threatened to shoot Cynthia. Just as Chambers had said, the agent was willing to do anything to achieve her goals. Following through on her threat would probably have affected her about as much as clipping her fingernails.
Anyway, the voice hadn’t offered its help again, a
nd Max wasn’t sure he would have accepted even if it had. He had no doubt the ability it had granted was of alien origin. Which meant by accepting it, he’d risked his special resistance to the invaders. Would they be able to control him, from now on? Were they controlling him right now?
“Max,” Cynthia said, breaking the silence. “I don’t know how you did what you did, but I want you to know how much it means that you came for us. We—”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
Peter shook his head, frowning. “You shouldn’t have come at all. That was stupid. Your mother and I put our lives on the line so you could stay out of Janet’s clutches. Now she has you right where she wants you.”
“She’s not my mother. And you’re not my father.”
“You’re right. We’re so much more than that. We’re the ones who molded you. Who made you into what you are now. Made you great. You’re the only one with a chance to save our species, because we raised you to be that.”
Cynthia shifted atop the wheel well. “Peter.”
“He needs to hear this. Max, you should be showering us with gratitude. Do you know how much we’ve sacrificed?”
“No, actually,” Max said, softly. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve sacrificed?”
Peter didn’t answer, his mouth firming.
Max drew his legs toward himself, crossing them. “The way I see it, you didn’t sacrifice a thing. You both had cushy government positions with incredible job security. You played house and got paid for it. Paid well, I would guess. After all, who could replace you?”
His face was heating up, his breath quickening. “Not just that. You had each other. You were both in on deceiving me. I’m the one who spent his life unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. Every day, I woke up with a dread I couldn’t define. I could tell something wasn’t right. But I never suspected you. I trusted you, unconditionally. And just look what I got for it.”
Peter stayed silent.
Instead, Cynthia spoke. “Max, I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would be like this. When I took this job, when I agreed to do what we did—” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. “I didn’t know how it would feel. I didn’t know how much I would love you, and how much it would hurt when you learned the truth. I do love you, Max. I might not be your mother by blood, but I am your mother. No one could love you any more than I do.”
Mother Ship Page 18