Extinction Survival Series | Book 4 | Warrior's Fate

by Browning, Walt

The offices were just ahead. The doors were made of wood; they’d never hold up against the Variants. To the left was the kitchen. Its metal rollup window was down, and it had a solid metal door. Lucas angled toward that spot, praying that the kitchen was unlocked. If not, he’d be dead in moments.

  He slammed into the door and twisted the knob. It opened and he flew into the room, landing on the tile floor. Rex followed and stood at his side. The floor was slick with grease and condensation, and he struggled to stand.

  The Variant screams were growing in intensity as he crawled back and tried to close the door. He failed. A gnarled, deformed hand clamped down on the frame, and a Variant began to push into the room.

  Lucas jammed his shoulder against the door. He struggled to push the creature’s arm out, but it was useless. He drew his battle knife from its sheath and chopped the fingers from its deformed hand. The monster screamed and pulled back its arm. He slammed the metal door closed.

  Lucas lay back against the wall as scores of infected pounded on the metal roll-down service window. Their screams were unnerving, and worse, they sounded even more ravenous than before.

  Lucas had a moment to think. He had no idea if the other two made it to a safe place. Then he suddenly remembered that his brother had been outside when the violence began.

  Timothy. Are you alive?

  It had all happened so fast and with such ferocity that Lucas convinced himself his brother was dead. There was no escape. His squad radio only had a broadcast radius of a few miles, and Lost Valley was over a hundred miles away. He was going to slowly starve to death—or die even more quickly of dehydration.

  They were due to check in at noon, and when they missed that radio call, the camp might send out a search party. But there was little hope that they’d find him in time. Lost Valley hadn’t a clue that he and his teammates had stopped at this Costco to resupply.

  Lucas resigned himself to a pointless death. His brother and his team were gone, as well as two of his own squad mates. The other two men in his group may or may not have found safety within the building. It was all too much for him. He dropped his head to his chest, then put his face in his hands and began to cry.

  — 12 —

  What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff – That’s all I do all day. I’d just be the catcher in the rye and all.

  — J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

  Costco

  After enduring the initial screaming and pounding on the metal roll-down doors, Lucas surrendered to the stress and fell into an exhausted sleep.

  He suddenly woke with a start and stared about, confused at his surroundings. He checked his watch; he’d been there for just over an hour.

  Something had happened. Something had changed.

  It took a few moments before he realized what it was. Silence.

  Lucas refused to have any positive thoughts. He had become comfortable with the idea of his own death, and he resisted any notion that there might be a way out.

  There had to be a reason the Variants went quiet. It was most likely a trap to get him to open the door. He’d already decided to stay locked up, denying the creatures his corpse. He’d rather die of thirst than be ripped apart and eaten.

  With Rex lying anxiously at his side, Lucas laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He’d need to have more than a few minutes of silence before he would even consider abandoning his safe haven.

  He felt Rex lift his head off his lap then stand stiffly at his side. Something caught the dog’s attention. Lucas opened his eyes and sat up.

  Then, he heard it. Gunfire. Someone had come for him.

  Outside Costco

  The military-issued .556 bullet wasn’t the most effective round against the Variants. Its small diameter was designed to hit its target and tumble about inside the body, ripping flesh and maximizing internal bleeding. Against the infected, it often had little effect. They didn’t seem to notice the loss of their virally tinged blood, and ripping apart an organ or two didn’t stop their aggressive attacks.

  The one advantage the military round did have was accuracy. A good marksman could hit a melon-sized target from a hundred meters away. Fortunately for Lucas, the shooters that day were good.

  The first bullet slammed into a particularly aggressive creature, snapping its head back and pushing black-speckled brain matter out the back of its skull.

  It had been stomping around the loading dock area, screaming and spitting over the stained concrete that had once been soldiers from Lost Valley. The human corpses had long ago been consumed, and the only thing left was the blood that had soaked into the loading dock’s cement.

  The muted crack! of the rifle arrived just a fraction of a second after the 62-grain, hollow-point bullet had punched through the creature’s demented brain. That caught the attention of the rest of the horde.

  A second Variant was felled, a round piercing its eye socket. The tumbling bullet scrambled its brain before traveling down its spine and exiting out the back of its neck. Five more were dispatched before the creatures had any idea where the assault was coming from. By then, it was too late to stop the carnage.

  Variants began to rush out of the garage door, only to be cut down by precision rifle shots that ripped their spines or exploded their skulls.

  Not every shot was accurate. Many bullets found parts of the body that would absorb the lead. But the intensity of the fire and confined space that the monsters were forced to use to exit the warehouse increased the chances that the incoming rounds would find something important.

  Instinct didn’t serve the creatures’ best interests. They rushed at the attackers, putting themselves into a deadly, well-planned field of fire. Bullets came in from many angles, creating crisscrossing paths of destruction. Often, a monster would be hit simultaneously from the left and right. If the first bullet didn’t find a vital neurologic organ, then the next one from a different angle would do the job.

  The battle lasted but a brief few minutes. Then a quick reaction force appeared. The QRF moved fluidly in a coordinated advance with their rifles up, staring through their optics while gliding smoothly across the pavement. The tips of their barrels hardly registered movement, ensuring any target that might appear would be quickly cut down by accurate and sustained fire.

  They advanced to the roll-up garage door and formed into positions on either side of the opening. One produced an object from a pouch on the soldier’s belt then pulled a pin and sent the M84 “flashbang” grenade into the dark space beyond. The eruption of the magnesium metallic fuel created a two-thousand-degree fireball. The light from this mini-sun, and the concussive overpressure from the explosion, blinded and disoriented the Variants within.

  The four soldiers spun into the room and began to cut down the remaining monsters. Bullets ripped apart bone and meat. The creatures were devastated.

  Another four-person team entered the building. As the first soldiers stepped back and regrouped, the second fireteam began the clearing process. Armed with flashlight-mounted shotguns, they moved down aisles in pairs, sweeping their barrels over any shelf or nook where the creatures could hide. The assault was well coordinated and extremely effective. Within ten minutes, the building was clear.

  Lucas

  Lucas heard the battle rage. He and Rex stood quietly near the room’s door. Time seemed to drag by after the last of the shots had been fired. Since then, he hadn’t heard a thing.

  Rex’s posture began to stiffen when the sound of movement from outside of the kitchen caught his attention. Lucas raised his rifle and pointed it eye level as the door was rattled from outside. He flipped off the safety and stepped back. If the Variants had won the battle, he would be ready if they breached the room.

  The knob jiggled and Rex growled.

  “That sounded like a dog,” a muffled voice from outside said.

  They were uninfected people! Lucas lowered his rifle and moved to the door. “Hol
d your fire,” he shouted. “I’m human!”

  “We’re holding!” the voice replied. “Come out with both hands where we can see them.”

  Lucas slung his rifle over his shoulder. He leashed Rex to his body and opened the door. Bright LED flashlights blared into his eyes.

  “Hands where I can see them!” the voice forcefully commanded.

  Lucas raised both arms and stepped out.

  “Oh look!” a voice said. “It’s a dog.”

  “His name is Rex,” Lucas said. “And thank you for saving my life.”

  One of the soldiers came forward and took Lucas’s rifle and sidearm.

  “Hey, we’re on the same team,” Lucas said, complaining at the treatment he was receiving.

  “We’ll see,” the soldier replied. “Anyone else in there?”

  “No. I’m it.”

  “Don’t lie to me. You won’t like it if I find someone else in that room.”

  “I’m not lying. I swear,” he replied.

  The flashlights were trained on the young man and his dog. It was blinding and kept him from getting a good look while a two-person team cleared the kitchen.

  “Nothing. He was telling the truth,” one of them said, confirming Lucas’s story.

  A gunshot popped from outside. Lucas felt a hand grab his collar and guide him forward. They all ran to the back door, where the other two men from his squad were standing against a wall, guarded by several rifles. He was happy to see that they had made it.

  “Hold your fire!” they heard from loading dock.

  It was Brett.

  “Hey! That’s my friend!” Lucas yelled.

  They ignored him.

  “Drop your weapons and step out where we can see you,” one of the soldiers yelled.

  Lucas could see out the door, where several of the soldiers had set up firing positions. Rifles were all aimed to the back lot. He was at a loss why these people were being such assholes.

  “Stop it,” Lucas said. “Why are you doing this? We should be fighting the Variants, not each other.”

  One of the soldiers turned to Lucas and sneered. “Just shut up. You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your head.”

  Lucas got a good look at them for the first time. His shocked expression wasn’t lost on his captor.

  “Yeah. We’re really careful who we call friend.”

  Lucas had no reply.

  Brett

  The crack of rifle fire startled Brett. He and Tim had initially evaded the Variants that were chasing them. Eventually, the creatures became spread out as some outran the others. That’s when they went to work running the creatures down with the reinforced front grill of the HUMVEE. They finished off eight Variants before the last of the targets was eliminated.

  The first thing Brett had done after escaping in the HUMVEE was contact Lost Valley. A QRF took less than ten minutes to organize, load into their vehicles, and move out. That was about an hour ago. There would be several dozen fighters arriving in a few hours. Unfortunately, the camp was about one hundred and fifty miles away.

  Brett found a large parking lot about a mile from the Costco. It gave him a 360° view of his surroundings. When the gunfire at the warehouse store kicked off, he immediately called Carver to find out if they had already arrived. The QRF hadn’t even made it past Temecula and were still several hours away. Carver warned him to be careful and that he should hold in place until the Lost Valley force arrived.

  “We can’t wait,” Tim said after they’d signed off from their radio call. “My brother’s in there.”

  Brett hesitated only for a moment. “Yeah. Let’s get eyes on the place.”

  They raced back and slowed to a stop just as the last of the gunfire ended. They were on an elevated offramp, giving them a long view of the loading dock area. There was a cluster of overgrown bushes partially blocking their view, but they could see nearly a dozen armed soldiers moving in the area.

  “I have an idea,” Brett said.

  They huddled for a minute then continued down the ramp to San Fernando Road. A line of tall bushes blocked the view of the dock area. Tim slid out of the vehicle and Brett continued on. He slowly pulled around the side of the warehouse and waited for the pre-arranged time. As the seconds ticked away, Brett began to have doubts about their plan. Would it work? Did they need to be so careful or even deceitful? These were humans, after all. But the image of Roy came to mind, and he immediately berated himself for questioning their cautiousness.

  Brett looked down at his watch. It was time.

  He pulled around the far end of the dock. There were over ten bays on the large building, and the one they’d opened was at the far end of the structure.

  He pulled forward, and about halfway to the open bay, he got the attention of the soldiers. He was within fifty meters when a single gunshot hit the driver’s side mirror. It shattered.

  Brett opened his door and took cover behind it.

  “Hold your fire!” he yelled.

  A few moments went by before there was a response. “Drop your weapons and step out where we can see you.”

  Brett had his sidearm strapped to his waist. He could see his battle rifle still leaning on the side of the building. He wasn’t about to give up the one weapon he had. At least, not until the odds had become a little more favorable.

  “Hey. I just came to get our people,” Brett replied. “Is anyone left alive?”

  There was no response.

  He scanned the building and saw five combatants prone on the concrete, their rifles pointed at him. There were more within the shadows of the open door.

  Brett needed to keep their attention if the plan was to succeed. He hit his horn. The timid beep was almost embarrassing, but it got a reply.

  “Yeah. We’ve got survivors. If you want to see them again, walk to us with your hands in the air.”

  Brett could see Tim skirting the back fence as he cut inside the overgrown bushes. He just needed to keep them occupied for a little longer. After that, things would be quite different.

  “You know, I have a better idea,” Brett answered. “Why don’t you just send them to me? Then we’ll be on our way.”

  With no response, Brett unholstered his pistol and sent a round into the air.

  “I said, send me my people,” Brett yelled, keeping cover behind the armored door and bulletproof glass.

  “You’re in no position to make demands,” a voice replied.

  I will be in about twenty seconds, Brett thought to himself.

  “Let me see them,” Brett shouted, trying to maintain some level of engagement. “I need to know they’re still alive.”

  A few seconds later, Lucas and the other two survivors were shoved into the light. Rifle barrels were pointed at their heads from within the shadows.

  “As you can see, they’re alive and doing well…for now,” the voice called out.

  Brett took a deep breath. Lucas was alive. Tim would be even more motivated now.

  “We’ve got you outnumbered. I’ve only let you live out of the goodness of my heart. If you don’t come out now with your hands in the air, I’m going to have to kill your friends, then you.”

  “I don’t think so,” Brett yelled.

  He watched Tim slide into their MRAP. The vehicle had been left twenty yards from the open door near the back of the lot. Tim had been able to sneak through the bushes and enter the armored beast.

  “One more chance,” the voice screamed. “You’re outgunned here.”

  Brett didn’t need to reply. The sound of the MRAP’s diesel engine caused the soldiers to turn their heads.

  The remote controlled, roof-mounted machine gun spun on its axis and aimed at the building. A short burst from the automatic weapon stitched a line above the door, punching massive chunks of brick façade, concrete, and rebar from the building.

  “If they die, you die. I promise you that we will hunt you all down and put you in the dirt,” Brett yelled. “Now, give me my men!” />
  Lucas and the other two appeared, each with a soldier behind them. There was a handgun pointed at each of their heads.

  Another soldier stepped into the light and led the hostages and their guards toward Brett.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” the escort said.

  “Sure.” Brett snorted to himself. “Now that there’s a Ma Deuce pointed at your head.”

  The seven walked steadily, and, as they got closer, Brett could make out details he couldn’t see before. Their leader was in front of the others. At about twenty paces, Brett suddenly realized that they were all women. Their ball caps hid their faces, but their uniforms couldn’t hide their physiques.

  Brett holstered his sidearm and stepped out from behind the door. “That’s close enough.” He pointed at Lucas. “Just know that the guy behind the machine gun won’t like it if you hurt his brother.”

  “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” the leader said.

  She took off her ball cap and Brett froze.

  She approached and held out her hand.

  “Hi,” she said. “My name is—”

  “Hanna,” Brett interrupted. “Hanna Hill.”

  The woman froze. “Do I know you?”

  Brett didn’t know how to answer. He couldn’t tell her that her senior photos had been the focus of his fantasies back at the high school. Even he knew that was way too creepy.

  “I saw you play field hockey,” Brett replied, remembering her action pictures from the yearbook.

  Hanna looked surprised. Brett could tell that she was trying to place his face.

  “It was a long time ago,” Brett said, stepping forward and grasping her hand. “And I’m a few years younger than you. So…”

  She held him with a firm grip, staring into his eyes.

  “My name is Brett.”

  She had become even more attractive since the high school yearbook pictures were taken. He found himself staring and quickly pulled his hand back. His cheeks reddened, and he looked away.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m surprised I don’t remember you. You’re not someone I’d easily forget.”