by JT Sawyer
“He’s going to make it, right?”
Kendrick’s face tensed up at the question. He only gave her a fleeting look then resumed tying off the IV line to the stretcher.
“God, not him, too.” She leaned into Porter, her hands clutching the underside of the bench as the Blackhawk sped towards the ocean. A minute later, another fireball ignited along the Santee River. Connelly watched the ensuing cloud of flame and smoke, then averted her eyes towards the wilderness of marshlands ahead, knowing this mission would be hailed as a success amongst the brass but wondering if her world would ever be the same.
Chapter 38
MacDill AFB Medical Infirmary
Sixteen Hours Later
Selene had finished with her medical exam in the quarantine wing, and now she moved up to the side of Reisner’s bed, checking his IV before sitting down next to him.
He had awoken an hour ago from the medically induced coma she had placed him in upon arriving, and he had lain in silence while she performed her last round of tests on his vitals while looking over the hematology reports. Reisner fluttered his fingers as she moved her hand over his.
“You’ve been a pretty good patient so far,” she said, caressing his cheek with the back of her hand.
“What did all your prodding and bloodwork tell you? Am I going to be stuck in this isolation ward or can I resume my duties?”
“’Duties? You’re not going anywhere for a while—at least a week or more. We had to hit your body hard with several transfusions to flush out the contaminants left behind by the parasites. That shot Connelly gave you worked, preventing the worms from making their way to your spinal column and brain, but they left quite a cocktail of toxins in your blood.”
“So, that’s a yes, I’m good to go.” He tried to sit up, removing his sheet then collapsing back into the pillow. Selene placed her palm on his chest. “Stay put or I’ll slip something into your IV to make you do so.”
She looked down at the gauze on his forearm then reached over to the table next to the bed, picking up a silver sheriff’s badge. “This was the only notable thing found in your vest—I figured you probably carried it for a reason.”
Reisner held it in his palm, brushing his thumb over the inscription and the star in the center. He closed his hand, clutching it until his fingers turned white. “Found this in a squad car in Charleston a while back and was waiting for the right time to give it to Nash—kind of a joke, since he said he had wondered what it would have been like being a sheriff.”
Reisner looked over at the empty beds to his right. “He should have made it. He should be here next to me, not on some goddamned hillside.”
Selene leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder. “I know. I know, Will.”
He looked at the badge again, reliving those last few minutes of the battle, remembering the rage that had consumed him. He took a deep breath and glanced at his bandaged forearm, grimacing at the memory of the parasites digging into his flesh. “You know, despite the chaos and horror of what unfolded during those last few minutes after I was infected, I had this sense of peace flooding over me. It was like I belonged somewhere else—as if my consciousness was expanding into something beyond myself.” He clutched the badge tighter. “I had just lost my best friend and I was feeling at peace—what kind of bullshit is that?”
“The well-being of those creatures is so connected to the adrenal and hormonal functions of their hosts that you were probably experiencing a flood of endorphins being released into your bloodstream. It was serving to help block out the trauma to your body and eliminate the emotion of grief.”
“Is that the constant state of being that the alphas live in? No wonder killing and torturing others in experiments comes so easy—not only because they are freaks of nature, but because doing so is pleasurable.”
“Why don’t we discuss this another time, when you’re up on your feet? You need to rest.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
Selene heard footsteps behind her, although she could barely recall the double doors to the room opening.
“That’s the kind of bedside manner my brother probably won’t complain about.” Jody Reisner moved up along the other side of the bed, taking Reisner’s weathered hand.
“Selene told me to come back when you were awake, since staring at you all night in the ICU wasn’t going to help.”
Selene smiled. “She stayed with you right from the moment you arrived here.
“You sure know how to scare a girl,” said Jody, her eyes tearing up. “But Selene promised me you would be sticking around for a while.” She prodded him in the arm. “That’s right, isn’t it, Will? You will be staying put now this super-alpha is dead?”
Reisner thought of the cost of this mission: one of his closest friends dead, along with the loss of Wexler, Lorraine, and numerous other civilians since the hunt for Roland began—and all for one creature. Was it worth it? Did we really make a lasting impact that will pay off in the long run, or will we still be fighting against the paras for the next year, five years, or longer? And what will be left of our world, of our own humanity, when it’s over?
Jody was one of many who needed to believe it was worth the sacrifice. He squeezed her hand, letting out a faint smile. “Yes, we got him.”
Chapter 39
Three Days Later
Reisner and Selene stood on the rear deck of the Lachesis, looking out at the ocean. Standing beside them were Connelly, Porter, Gomez, and Runa, along with Ivins’ SEAL team. A private ceremony had already been conducted with Wexler’s former colleagues back at MacDill, and Reisner had attended, feeling more like a spectator than a member of Wexler’s inner circle, wishing he had had more time to get to know the man.
General Dorr and President Hemmings were standing beside a Navy chaplain, who began the eulogy while Reisner stared at the small bronze urn on a pedestal that contained Nash’s personal mementos from his room on the Endurance. Next to the urn was an American flag, neatly folded into a triangle, along with several of Nash’s service medals from his time in the Army.
Reisner’s face was frozen. He felt like his soul had fallen off the vessel and tumbled into the icy reaches of the ocean. He only caught segments of the chaplain’s sermon, his mind drifting through the years of cherished memories of working with Nash.
“Be still the chaos of the primeval sea…”
He thought of the first time he shook hands with Nash, welcoming him as the first member of his newly formed team. Nash had a calm confidence that helped keep Reisner grounded when his own nerves were rattled, and Nash liked to remind him that he was the responsible big brother who kept him in line during agency meetings.
“May the raging waters of the flood subside and calm the storm on the sea of Galilee…”
He remembered thinking Nash’s bronze complexion and blond hair made him seem more like a surfer than a former Army Ranger, and Reisner often joked that he was moonlighting as a lifeguard in between missions.
“As we commit our brother Gabriel Nash to the sea…”
Reisner recalled their last agency mission in Syria before the pandemic, when Nash had patched his arm up after he received a grazing round during a firefight with militants. There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side on the battlefield, in this lifetime or the next, my old friend.
“Grant him peace and tranquility…”
He thought about Nash’s easy smile, even under duress, while he tried to contain the ever-present wad of tobacco wedged under his lower lip. Even when the mission was stressful as hell, Nash always kept people’s spirits afloat.
“Be raised to the glories of new life promised through the waters of baptism.”
After the sermon ended, each person walked past the urn, placing a personal object of their own inside. Reisner went last and paused at the pedestal, looking out at the horizon as his lips trembled. He felt his chest tighten as a tear rolled down his cheek. He removed the sheriff’s badge from hi
s pocket, caressing the tarnished edge with his thumb, then he gently placed it inside the urn and placed the lid on top.
I will see you down the road, brother. That much I know.
Chapter 40
One day after Nash’s ceremony, Reisner was in the command center on the Endurance. After exiting Dorr’s office following a short meeting, he saw Pacelle waving him over to his desk.
Reisner stood over the shoulder of his old agency colleague, staring at a 3-D image of the globe on Pacelle’s computer.
“Is this going to be a lecture on geography?” he said.
Pacelle licked his lower lip, then glanced down the aisle to make sure no one was present. “Thought you might be interested in seeing this before I pass it on to Dorr.” Pacelle clicked on the mouse, pulling up another image, which showed a series of satellite photos from South Carolina.
He enhanced the images, pinpointing a region south of Jamestown. Pacelle leaned forward, tapping his finger on the screen. “Here is where the Predator drone dropped its payload on the boat that the alphas were in. At that time, we were going solely off of the heat signature of that burned alpha female on board. I’ve only now had all of the satellite images in to analyze them.”
“So, what exactly am I looking at here, Andre? We’ve been through all of this already in the debriefing.”
Pacelle enhanced the grainy image again, this time pointing to a small peninsula of land along the river. “There was a mileage discrepancy between when you radioed that the boat had left your location by the cabin and when it was eliminated by the Predator.”
He slid his hand over to a piece of paper to his right. “According to my calculations, that boat was initially proceeding at a maximum speed of thirty miles per hour based upon the first series of sat photos. That would mean that the boat should have been almost a mile beyond the area where our Hellfire took it out. If you look at the initial photos from the dock, there are four figures present in the boat.”
He returned to pointing at the screen. “So, I backtracked the trajectory of the boat while trying to account for the lost mileage.” He kept tapping on the mouse, zooming in on the figures in the boat before it was destroyed. “At this point, there are only two alphas present.”
Reisner knelt down, his eyes squinting like he was staring into the sun. “So, the other two must have been dropped off at some point, which would explain the mileage difference.”
“That means the Hellfire killed that burnt alpha and one other, which means…”
Reisner cut him off, uttering the words slowly while keeping his voice low. “He left his sister and one other alpha in the boat, sacrificing them to get away with the kid.” He lowered his head, his mind racing over the details of the battle and trying to separate the vital intel from his feelings of dread over what he lost that day. “It had to be Roland and that boy who was supposed to be like him—is like him now.”
“You can see why I wanted to present this to you before anyone else.” Pacelle lowered his voice as someone entered the room. “Do you want to reveal to a war-weary group of civilians and military personnel that this recent operation in the Southeast was for nothing?”
Reisner’s head was aching, as much from the recent battle as from this new information. What was the point of this past month of missions? We’ve accomplished nothing! We’ve been worn thin, and now Nash is… He looked at the porthole across the room, gazing longingly out at the ocean. Its still waters seemed so tranquil—so indifferent to the world of men. Reisner just wanted to leap off the vessel and disappear into the depths below. He was sure his soul had already plummeted to those icy confines.
He heard Pacelle’s voice pierce through his beleaguered mind. “Will, did you hear me?”
“That’s not my call to make, or yours.” He seethed out the words, his eyes fixated on the screen. If you did survive, then where are you headed to? He balled his fist. It doesn’t matter. No matter how long it takes, I will destroy you and every last one of your kind.
Reisner stared at the two gray figures in the enhanced image, their muscular shapes indicating that they were both males, one smaller than the other. The larger one had a sinuous line extending along the left side of the skull, and Reisner thought back to the rock he had slammed into Roland’s head above the ear. He took a deep breath then forced himself to exhale, feeling like the air was stuck to his ribs.
Maybe Andre’s wrong. They couldn’t have gotten away. He kept repeating the words, trying to convince himself that his gut was wrong.
***
Four hours later, Reisner was back aboard the Lachesis after visiting Jody on board the civilian frigate where she was living. He felt tired beyond measure, and he just wanted to collapse into his bed next to Selene. Reisner wondered if she sensed his crushing frustration on learning about Roland’s survival as she trotted out to meet him on the rear helipad.
“Did you hear the news?”
He wondered if she knew something already about Pacelle’s findings. “About what?”
“General Vaccaro’s search and recovery teams located a teenage girl near Jamestown.” She held up her tablet, showing him the image from the infirmary aboard Vaccaro’s Coast Guard cutter. She looked to be about fourteen and had red hair.
“Her name is Abby—Abby Strachan,” said Selene. “Isn’t that the girl you mentioned was abducted from that farm?”
Reisner’s jaw clenched as he nodded. “But she could be infec…”
“Tso was already on board the Reliance, so I had him check out her vitals and run bloodwork—she’s clean. Her oxygen level is a little low, and she could use a sandwich or ten, but she’s OK.”
“That’s a miracle,” said Reisner, wishing it was Lorraine who was standing here with him to hear the news.
“She told the SAR teams that she managed to escape from the pharmaceutical company near Charleston. She hid out in the woods for a while before making her way back to her farm.”
“Or what’s left of it—the Hellfire didn’t reach that far, but everyone else at Schrade’s died in the battle. I can’t imagine what she found walking back up the road to that empty farmhouse.”
“Tso is flying back here with her tomorrow. I’m sure she will want to talk with you about what happened to her aunt and friends. The poor thing has been through hell, and now she has no one to return home to.”
“Well, Ivins still has Lorraine’s dog. That will be some comfort.”
Reisner remembered what he promised Lorraine about taking care of Abby. He rubbed his sore forearm, wondering how traumatized the young girl would be and hoping she would be able to adjust to life aboard a ship at sea. You will be safe here with us—we’ll take care of you.
Chapter 41
One Week Later
Lydia Errico was hauling in a cast net from the stern of her thirty-seven-foot sailboat. As she hoisted up her catch of young king mackerel and gray snappers, she stared at the distant skyline of the derelict city of Miami, two miles to the northwest. She and her husband had barely made it out of that city alive during the first week of the pandemic when the peninsula collapsed into madness. They had eventually met other castaways like themselves, adrift in the warm waters of the southern Atlantic Ocean. The small flotilla of nine sailboats had been slowly moving between the derelict ports around the Bermuda Islands, but they had found those areas to be as overrun with creatures as the coastline around Cuba. If they were lucky, they could get into an isolated port and gather some supplies before being detected and returning to the safety of the sea.
The intermittent shortwave radio broadcasts from the United States indicated that Florida was largely devoid of creatures after the efforts of the military in dispersing a deadly bioweapon, but they heeded the warnings about the disease potential from the rotting bodies.
The convoy’s plan was to sweep up the eastern coastline and see if they could locate a safe harbor between Miami and Daytona Beach with help from the current trade winds.
Lyd
ia dropped the net on the deck and began liberating the tangled fish and plunking them into a yellow bucket.
“That should tide us over,” said her husband Mark, who came up from the galley below, peering at her catch. She knew he was eager to rejoin the rest of the ships scattered in the ocean a mile to the southeast, busy with similar fishing efforts that would benefit their band of fifty-five survivors.
With her back growing stiff from the constant bending, she stood up, raising her hands towards the sky and arching her neck.
“Time for yoga,” joked her husband. “That’s what I’ll tell the others when we come back without enough fish. My wife had to get in her daily yoga session and—” He paused, his head canting as he stared portside.
“What is it?” said Lydia.
“Another boat—but not one of ours.”
He pulled the binoculars out from the dashboard and glassed the vessel in the distance. “Looks like a small rig—maybe a thirty-footer. I can’t make out the name.”
Lydia moved up alongside him, her hand stretched up to blot out the sun. “Someone out of Florida, maybe. They could tell us what it looks like.”
“I’m not seeing anyone on board. You think someone would have flagged us down by now or tried to—” Mark adjusted the focus of the binoculars. “Wait, I see a guy coming up from the cockpit. Looks like a young fella.” He handed her the binoculars and went to the steering console, spinning the wheel around clockwise and turning the sailboat seventy degrees.
“We should notify the others,” said Lydia.
Mark snickered. “After we see what he’s got on board.”
A few minutes later, they arrived next to the boat. Mark masterfully slowed his vessel, coming up parallel to the other ship, which bore the inscription Icarus.
Lydia went into action, flinging a rope to the spry figure with blond hair, who eagerly waved to them before tying it off on his deck. “Sure good to see other people—it’s been a while,” said the man in a boyish voice. Lydia stared at his muscular physique, which made her think he was in his early twenties.