Extinction Cycle Dark Age (Book 3): Extinction Ashes

by Smith, Nicholas Sansbury

  For that matter, what if collaborator scouts had spotted Beckham arriving?

  The nuke might take flight any second.

  Once they rounded another turn in the tunnels, they saw the floodlights where Sergeant Nguyen and his men were guarding the science team.

  The soldiers parted as the president’s team approached. Behind them, Ron and Leslie worked beside Sammy and Kate at their computers, all wearing splash suits and respirators.

  Kate stood at their arrival.

  “Kate!” Beckham said, limping ahead.

  She ran to embrace him. “Reed! What are you doing down here?”

  “Evacuating you. We have to leave right now.”

  “What?” Kate looked to Ringgold. “You need to be in splash suits.”

  “No time,” Ringgold said. “The helicopter is waiting for us.”

  Kate looked back at her team. “We’re actually stopping attacks. We can’t leave now. We can still save more outposts.”

  “Kate, we have no choice,” Beckham said. “Pack up your gear, and let’s go.”

  “There isn’t another incoming attack,” Kate said. “Everything we’ve intercepted indicated the bats were it.”

  “Kate, the collaborators have a nuke. If they find out about your work or that the president is here, they will turn this place into what I saw in Denver.”

  Kate stood silently for a second.

  “It’s true,” Ringgold said. “We can only save more lives if we survive.”

  Kate finally nodded. “Get everything packed up now.”

  Ringgold retreated from the tunnel to wait at the chopper as it was refueled. The shock of this new intel helped expel the exhaustion clouding her. Now a plan began to coalesce. No doubt the collaborators thought they were a step ahead of the Allied States.

  She planned to prove them wrong.

  From what Souza had told her of Mount Katahdin, it was a Cold War era nuclear weapons facility that was supposed to be top secret. Simply ordering an airborne attack would not guarantee they could stop the nuclear facility buried deep underground.

  In fact, the base had been built to withstand a nuclear weapons attack, so there was very little they could do with the meager Air Force they had left.

  A special forces team that could go in quiet to pull off a surgical strike and sabotage the facility from the inside was a much better option.

  She turned as Beckham, Horn, and Rico helped Kate and the science team toward the chopper.

  They were the perfect soldiers for the job.

  — 23 —

  The Battery Park ballfields were as quiet as a church during Sunday prayer. S.M. Fischer rested in the cabin of the vibroseis truck, praying that he would see another Sunday.

  The seismic monitors glowed across the dashboard, silent.

  A cold, dry wind curled through the open window and rustled the long dry grass around the vehicle. It reminded him of those chilly winter nights in the Texas panhandle. He longed to be back at his ranch, riding through his fields in his pickup or on a horse to check on his grazing cattle.

  But those days were almost certainly over.

  “It’s quiet,” Chase said just outside the door. He leaned against the truck, cradling his rifle. Moonlight glowed over the other soldiers guarding the truck.

  “I’ve been praying for the quiet to last the night,” Fischer replied to Chase.

  “Me too.”

  A soldier jogged over and Fischer swung his legs out of the truck. It was Sergeant Dwyer stopping to do his rounds.

  “See anything?” Dwyer asked.

  “Nothing so far,” Fischer said.

  “Good,” Dwyer said. “Only four more hours till sunrise, then I get to thaw my frozen balls.”

  Chase chuckled. “I never looked forward to being awake for a sunrise as much as I have over the past few days.”

  “Every day we’re alive is another to thank God for,” Fischer said.

  “Yeah, well, tonight I’m thanking you for sticking with us, and watching over the outpost,” said the sergeant. “We’re more than grateful than you know.”

  “It’s our privilege,” Fischer said, downplaying the man’s compliment. He wasn’t one to readily accept high praise.

  “This is our home, and these are our families, and neighbors,” Dwyer continued. “You could’ve cut and run like the others, but you didn’t.”

  “We’re with you till the end,” Fischer said. “I just wish I had cigars and whiskey to offer you and the rest of the brave souls out here tonight.”

  Dwyer smiled, but then his expression turned sour. “Morale was good until the president left, but we’ll make do.”

  “She had no choice. If we lose her and that science team, the war is over.”

  “Yeah…”

  “We just got to hold out a little while longer,” Chase said.

  Fischer didn’t want to the conversation to sidetrack into something negative so he checked the vibroseis monitors for good news. The monitors revealed no sign of activity.

  “Still nothing,” he said. “The science team must have done something remarkable down there.”

  Dwyer shrugged. “I’ve heard too many promises of a cure or a new biological agent to stop the monsters. But every time we launch something like that at the enemy, they come back stronger than before.”

  His radio crackled, and a voice broke over it.

  “Delta One, this is Echo One.”

  It was Sergeant Nguyen, who was now assigned to patrol outside the outpost.

  “Go ahead Echo One, this is Delta One.”

  Nguyen sounded out of breath. “We spotted contacts. Potential hostiles, and they’re headed—”

  Static buzzed over the line.

  “Echo One, do you read?” Dwyer asked.

  Fischer’s heart pounded.

  Dwyer spoke again, his tone more urgent. “Echo One, do you read? What’s going on?”

  Still no response.

  “So much for no activity,” Dwyer said with a grunt. He depressed the call button on his radio. “All Delta units, make ready. Potential hostiles in the area.”

  Fischer scanned the monitors in the vibroseis truck. “I’m still not seeing anything.”

  “Maybe it’s bats,” Chase said, scanning the sky.

  “I don’t see shit,” Dwyer said.

  Fischer grabbed a pair of binoculars from his dash and searched their surroundings. He checked the sniper nests and then searched the starlit bowl of black above, but saw nothing.

  “Anyone got eyes?” Dwyer asked over the radio.

  The replies all came back negative.

  Chase nervously aimed into the distance with his rifle. Men along the barricades stood up at the ready.

  “Come on, Echo One,” Dwyer tried again, pacing next to the truck. “Tell me—”

  A crack split the air.

  Dwyer’s face disappeared in a spray of broken bone and blood. His body slumped to the ground, twitching.

  Fischer stared for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Everything around him seemed to slow. Adrenaline thundered through his vessels as flashes of gunfire exploded from the rooftops where the snipers were perched.

  Soldiers on the ground scrambled to take cover from bullets lancing into their positions.

  Rounds punched into the truck, forcing Fischer down.

  For a moment, he lay crouched beneath the dash, trying to make sense of things.

  Had their own snipers turned on them?

  Were there collaborators in their midst all this time?

  He snapped from the shock and grabbed his rifle. Carefully, he rose to scope the buildings. He quickly noticed the snipers firing on them were different than the ones he had seen earlier. And the positions where the outpost soldiers had been were dormant.

  It was then he realized what was happening.

  The collaborators had infiltrated the buildings, killed the outpost snipers, and were now raining hell down on the field.

>   More bullets slammed into the truck. Cracks spread through the windshield.

  “Mr. Fischer!” Chase shouted.

  “I’m okay, stay down.” Fischer grabbed his radio. “Command, this is Delta Two. We’ve got hostile contacts hitting our position from…everywhere!”

  Another volley of bullets hit the truck. Smoke hissed out the hood as rounds punched into the engine block. The smell of oil and burning plastic filled the air.

  Get out of there! A voice called in his mind.

  It was his wife.

  The bright glare of rockets flared from a building. Fischer watched them smash into the Bradley Fighting Vehicles. Balls of fire erupted from the two vehicles, flames billowing from the gaping wounds in their sides.

  The staccato bark of the machine guns sounded as the outpost soldiers fought back. Tracer rounds cut through the black of night.

  “Sir, we need to move!” Chase said, yelling above the din.

  Fischer checked the dashboard.

  The seismic monitors were still calm, belying the attack outside. They had been so concerned with a Variant attack that they hadn’t expected collaborators to infiltrate their defensive positions.

  He considered abandoning the post, but his job was to watch for Variant attacks.

  “Get in here,” Fischer said to Chase.

  The soldier climbed inside, keeping low. “Sir, all due respect, but what the hell are we doing?”

  “We aren’t running, that’s for sure,” Fischer said. “Now help me identify some of those targets.”

  Chase aimed his rifle at the buildings, looking for hostiles. He reported them as he saw the muzzles flashes.

  Fischer, in turn, reported them over the radio. “Contacts on the sixth floor of the Grayson apartment building.”

  A wave of tracer rounds sprayed into the windows. The gunfire stopped, but the flash of another rocket flaring from an apartment pierced the dark above the sixth floor.

  The rocket narrowly missed the vibroseis truck, bursting on the ground and sending up a geyser of dirt. Then came the gunfire.

  Rounds punched through the metal. The glass shattered, spraying over Fischer.

  Chase cried out in pain, gripping his thigh as blood pumped between his fingers. Pieces of glass rained down on Fischer as he crawled over to his wounded friend.

  Chase tried to scoot closer.

  “Stay down!” Fischer yelled.

  He reached into one of his vest’s pockets, scrounging around for hemostatic bandages.

  “Move your hand,” Fischer said. “We got to stop the bleeding.”

  Fischer pushed down on the wound.

  More bullets broke through the door, punching into Chase.

  In the glow of the dashboard, Fischer saw the wild fear in his friend’s eyes. He choked something out, then fell to his side and pinned Fischer down.

  More rounds hit the truck. Chase’s limp body jerked several times as bullets pierced his flesh.

  “No,” Fischer sobbed.

  Fischer stayed there for a moment in shock, staring in horror at his dead friend covering him like a human shield.

  Get out of there! RUN!

  The voice of his wife didn’t snap him from the shock.

  It was a bullet to the arm. He used his shoulder to push Chase off and then scooted across the blood-soaked floor of the truck.

  Fischer tried to push himself against the dashboard, but another round hit his back, slamming him down. Despite the two injuries he couldn’t feel much pain. That was a bad sign.

  When he tried to move his legs, he realized it was worse than he had thought. The round to his back had hit his spine.

  This was the end of the road for him.

  Alarms went off across the dashboard. He tried to crawl back toward it, realization hitting him as hard as those two bullets.

  The collaborators had softened their defenses, and now the Variants were on their way. Tunneling underground to finish the outpost off.

  Fischer struggled to breathe.

  His mind swam, and he remembered that day before the war, back when he’d first visited President Ringgold to figure out if he would support her in the now-suspended elections.

  He had been hesitant, seeing her as a leader who had ignored the Variants.

  Now he realized he’d been wrong.

  There was nothing they could have done to prevent this evil. What was happening wasn’t her fault. It was the fault of the evil men who had created the monsters.

  The country was lucky to have a leader like Ringgold to make the tough decisions, to know when to fight, when to retreat, and when to rethink their strategies. Hopefully, she would work with General Cornelius to find a way to beat back the monsters.

  But the fight for Fischer was over.

  “Godspeed, Madam President,” he whispered. He crawled over and put a hand on his dead friend.

  Using his other hand, he pulled out his revolver. His fingers brushed over the words engraved on the barrel, Monster Killer.

  The alarms in the vibroseis truck blared again, and somewhere in front of the truck, the ground gave way. Clods of dirt exploded upward, showering the cracked windshield.

  A demonic shriek erupted from the hole.

  Fischer repositioned his body just as the door to the truck was ripped off and tossed aside. An ape-like face with milky white eyes looked inside. Ropey muscles bulged across the body of an Alpha.

  Fischer aimed his gun, his shoulder screaming in agony. He pulled the trigger, firing into the creature’s chest. It staggered back with each shot, screaming in rage.

  He fired again and again until the gun clicked, empty.

  Blood poured from bullet holes in the barreled chest of the beast, but the abominable creature remained standing. It took a step forward, opening a mouthful of fangs.

  Fischer reached for more bullets in his vest.

  The Alpha took another step, reaching out for him when it was struck by a bright light. The beast looked to the left just before it vanished in a blur of metal.

  Fischer lowered his gun and rested his head on the dashboard.

  Voices called out among the gunfire.

  One of them was familiar.

  Commander Massey climbed inside the cab of the truck. Two men followed, and they carefully picked Fischer up. He was carried to the back of her pickup and gently put into the back of the bed.

  He lay there, looking up at the dazzling sky, wondering if he had earned a spot up there, or if he would be going to hell.

  No hell can be as bad as the one I’ve experienced here, he thought.

  Fischer closed his eyes, and let the dark take him.

  ***

  Making progress through the Center for Engineering Complex Organs facility was agonizingly slow for Dohi. Trying to watch his own back while sneaking through a building filled with enemy forces had required every ounce of focus and skill he had developed over the years.

  So far, there were no clues leading to Fitz and Ace. And he knew he was running out of time—and so were they.

  He had left a trail. Of bodies. They were scattered in the tunnel beneath the CECO and in the hallways where he had encountered more Chimeras.

  Dohi increased his pace through a hall, keeping low, hatchet in one hand and suppressed pistol in the other.

  The facility had once belonged to a normal medical therapeutics company. Filled with laboratories, offices, and manufacturing facilities. All lit in a sickly yellow glow from lights peeking out beneath crimson vines covering the walls and ceilings.

  The pop of Variant joints clicked down a corridor, and Dohi shrank into a doorway. Using his shoulder, he nudged open a door with a dirty window to reveal what had once been a large office.

  While the room wasn’t covered in webbing, the stench of sour fruit radiated off the carpet. Blankets and dirty fatigues were strewn on the floor. He tried to adjust the stolen mask from the Chimera, but it did little to relieve the putrid smell.

  Clicking joints grew cl
oser and with them came grunts and snarls.

  Dohi knelt next to the door, watching from the side.

  An elongated shadow moved in front of the window in the door. He pressed himself against a wall, sucking in his breath. The Variant paused outside, sniffing the air.

  Another growl sounded.

  Dohi tightened his grip on the hatchet.

  Then he heard a shrill whistle, and the gruff voice of a Chimera. The Variant left the door, scampering down the hall.

  Dohi watched two more humanoid silhouettes pass by the grimy window.

  As their footsteps faded, he snuck out into the web-covered hallway. Other doors led to more offices turned into barracks.

  He tried not to look at the vines covering the walls like spider webs, but once again, a memory of being strung up in the webbing sent a cold wave of fear through his bones.

  Ace and Fitz were probably cocooned in that webbing somewhere. All he had to do was follow the network, and eventually he would find them.

  Dohi cleared another corridor. This one led to smaller laboratories. Expansive windows provided a look into mostly empty spaces.

  Microscopes and other equipment rested on lab benches. He didn’t see any dust or webbing on them. Someone must still be using them.

  Voices echoed somewhere behind him.

  He crept ahead, taking another corner toward a stairwell. The deep voices continued behind him, but there were more coming up the stairwell.

  Footsteps clanged up the stairs. With no other choice, he retreated to the hall and ducked into a lab. There, he crouched under the windows.

  The group of soldiers in the hall marched past.

  Dohi crawled under the shelter of the lab benches. He didn’t stop until he got to the back of the room. There were two doors. One was labeled, Chemical Supplies. The other was made of stainless-steel and appeared to be to a walk-in cooler.

  Keeping low, he snuck a glance above a lab bench filled with various glass apparatuses. The two separate groups of Chimeras had stopped in front of the windows, their backs mostly turned.

  He ducked back down.

  Judging by the way their weapons hung loose on their straps and their casual hand gestures, they didn’t know he was here.

  The beasts chatted for another minute. They didn’t seem intent on leaving any time soon. Dohi looked around the lab, just as the walk-in cooler cracked open.