The Tide_Dead Ashore

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  The shriek of protesting metal pierced the din of the Skulls. Shepherd swiveled around. The door to the staircase had finally burst open. A Skull reached out and wrapped its bony hands around one of Costas’s men. The man went down hard, and the Skull pulled him toward the rest of its brethren in the stairwell. Claws and teeth sank into the man’s flesh. His cries of agony soon gave way to the sounds of ripping skin and breaking bones.

  One of the women grabbed the man’s wrist, engaging in a dangerous bout of tug-of-war with the Skulls.

  “Don’t!” Shepherd yelled. “He’s already gone.”

  Shepherd fired into the mass of Skulls, sending some of them tumbling back down the stairs.

  Costas threw all his weight into the door to hold it shut. Skulls slammed into the door as the sergeant dug his heels into the wall of the watch house.

  Another noise soon joined the hellish din. Shepherd could scarcely believe his ears when he heard it. He fired at a Skull then looked westward. Green, red, and white lights blinked in the night sky.

  “They’re coming!” he yelled. “Help is on the way!”

  They just needed to last a little longer, and then the choppers would be here, whisking them away to Aberdeen. They could do this. If they could survive a plane crash and the journey through the woods, they could hold out for a few more minutes atop the lighthouse.

  The Goliath pushed itself up from the ground, shaking off some of the Skulls that had begun climbing its huge body. Trickles of crimson dripped out of its mouth. Shepherd imagined he could smell the stink of its hot breath.

  With a heave, the Goliath threw itself at the base of the lighthouse. The tower trembled, and Navid grabbed the handrail, barely stopping himself from plummeting over the side. Colin Weaver shrieked, and his father clapped a hand over his mouth. The Goliath punched a bone-plated fist into the side of the tower. When it pulled its claw out, bricks fell away. The Goliath yanked out steel support beams as if it were tearing open an animal carcass. Then it used the hole as a foothold, propelling itself up a little higher before making another handhold. Each blow shook the lighthouse.

  Shepherd wondered whether the beast would make it to the top before the lighthouse collapsed entirely. Which would be the worse way to go?

  The Portuguese forces focused their fire on the Goliath. Rounds needled the flesh between its huge plates, but the rush of hot blood from bullet holes didn’t slow it. It climbed upward, one quaking punch after another. A swath of bricks gave way near the Goliath’s side of the lighthouse, spilling the Skulls attached to them.

  The Goliath lost a few yards of its progress. It wrapped its claws around the staircase of the tower to steady itself. More Skulls tumbled as the staircase twisted outward.

  “We’re going down if we don’t do something about him!” Divya yelled. She fired the pistol at the Goliath. It was about as helpful as spitting in the monster’s eye.

  “Focus on the smaller ones!” Shepherd aimed at the Goliath. Bits of its armor were finally cracking, and it looked weaker than before, its movements more cautious. But that made it no less dangerous.

  Come on, Shep, he thought. Come on.

  He fired at the Goliath’s face, catching its cheekbone and brow. The beast used its hand to guard against the hail of bullets. At least that slowed the monster down. It couldn’t climb when it tried to protect itself.

  As soon as it tried to reach for another handhold, Shepherd fired at its bulbous eye. Rounds punched into the bone around its eye socket. Then one plunged straight through the dark orb. The Goliath roared in agony. Its claws grasped its face, and it fell backward, slamming into the ground once more. Its huge form crushed a half dozen Skulls like so many bugs, and it rolled over more as it writhed.

  It kept one claw pressed to its eye as it righted itself. Fiery anger radiated from the beast. It hunched down as if it was going to charge the lighthouse. If it couldn’t climb up to its prey, maybe it sought to bring the prey down to it.

  “Brace yourselves!” Shepherd yelled.

  The Goliath hurtled at them. Shepherd fired, but it was moving too fast. He lost hope of stopping the thing before it caused the lighthouse to collapse.

  His ears perked. Amid the cacophony, a new sound had emerged. A drone like that of a saw blade. Suddenly, splashes of red burst from the Goliath’s side, peppering its limbs and face. Its bony plates were chewed up in a matter of seconds, and it slowed, stumbling, unable to carry on under the duress of this new assault.

  The machine guns had opened up from the helicopters. Side-gunners sprayed rounds into the Goliath until it finally collapsed, its lungs giving one final heave. Then they fanned gunfire over the remaining Skulls, beating the monsters back into the forest. Bodies piled on top of bodies. One side-gunner even managed to fire into the gaping holes the Goliath had torn into the lighthouse. He shredded the remnants of the horde trying to make it up the staircase and past Costas.

  Cheers erupted around the roof. Shepherd pulled Divya into a hug. Navid pumped a fist into the air. Rachel shook Rory’s shoulders, yelling in triumph. The Weavers embraced each other in a family group hug. Costas wiped the sweat off his face. His expression of worry gave way to a victorious grin.

  They had done it. They had actually done it.

  The smile that had spread across Shepherd’s face soon fell away as they loaded the wounded onto the helicopters. Their victory here had been hard won. The Portuguese airmen had sacrificed themselves to give the group the final inches to make it here. It had worked, but it had come at an unexpectedly high price.

  Shepherd said a prayer as the Black Hawks took them off into the night, away from the lighthouse, the deadly forest, and the plane crash. Onward they went with Matsumoto and the precious seed samples of Phoenix Compound. Maybe, if they were lucky, the sacrifices here could save lives in the future.

  Maybe they were about to make real progress against the Oni Agent, starting here, in the United States. Shepherd turned from the window and looked at the shriveled old man who was both the architect of humanity’s doom and its potential savior. Many good men and women had lost their lives to get him on this chopper.

  It better have been worthwhile.

  -42-

  The man’s eyes went glassy, and his mouth hung open. His fingers had been clenched, his nails digging into his palms. Now they straightened slowly, like a pianist’s digits reaching for the ivories. Lauren swore she saw the man’s spirit leave his body. She was probably imagining things. Exhaustion and stress had been stalwart companions over the past—oh God, had it really been less than a day?

  She exhaled slowly and felt for the man’s pulse.

  Nothing. She hadn’t expected him to live. Half his face was charred. The other half had been split open by a Skull.

  Another one lost. That was three, maybe four patients dead. She had lost count. They had saved many more, but that wouldn’t help her sleep at night.

  Not that she was ever going to sleep again, the rate things were going. Even with the help of the medical personnel who had survived the Skull attack, they didn’t have enough people to staff a standard emergency room, much less provide adequate triage for a major disaster like this.

  As she turned away from the deceased man and searched for her next patient, the world around her flooded back. The odor of blood and burned skin and hair filled her nose. The groans of the injured and the sounds of frantic voices asking for help cut through the air.

  “Lauren!” a voice rose above the din. “Lauren!”

  She looked toward the entrance. Kara was leading another stretcher into the med bay. A man was splayed across it. Deep lacerations, wet with blood, stretched across his abdomen and arms. It was a wonder the man was alive at all. Her gazed roved over him instinctually as she catalogued his injuries, noting the worst. When she reached his face, she gasped.

  “Sean!” Lauren ran to his stretcher.

  She grabbed his hand. His palms were clammy. But as her fingers probed his wrist, she felt a
pulse. Weak, but it was there. She took over from Kara and guided the stretcher to an available bed. There were still bloodstains from the previous patient.

  Sean’s abdomen was a mess. Lauren immediately set to cleaning it so she could search for a way to stop the bleeding.

  “What do we have?” Peter asked. Then his eyes grew wide. “Let me in. I’ve got this.”

  Lauren didn’t question him. If there was internal bleeding, she’d rather have Peter’s expert surgical skills dealing with the issue. Still, her thoughts stayed with Sean even as she moved on to another patient. Then she noticed Kara hadn’t left her side.

  “Sean had this with him,” Kara said, holding out a notebook. “He said he found it. Before he passed out, I mean. Thought you might want to know.”

  “Thanks, Kara,” Lauren said, taking the notebook. “Are there more patients coming?”

  “I think Frank just left for the last batch.”

  “Good. Go help with them.”

  Kara jogged through the bustle of the med bay toward the exit. Lauren opened the notebook to the last page. It was covered with Sean’s handwriting. Part of it had been torn, and the bloody smudge marks made it difficult to read. But she could make out enough of it to understand what he’d been trying to tell Kara.

  “Holy shit,” she said. Sean had found it, all right. The source of the outbreak was nothing like what they had expected. There had been no bioweapon attack. It was much cruder than that.

  Another moan caused her to whip around. A woman was clutching her arm. Muscle glistened beneath shredded skin.

  Lauren set aside the revelation of Sean’s findings. There were people that needed to be helped now, their lives very much in her hands. But once she was done here, the real work would begin.

  Yes, the FGL had evidently developed an airborne strain of the Oni Agent, as evidenced by the canister the men had dropped on the Huntress. But according to Sean’s work, that wasn’t what had happened here.

  Lajes was home to a pack of wild dogs, and those dogs had a flea infestation. And those fleas happened to be carrying the Oni Agent. Instead of just producing more Phoenix Compound, what they really needed to stop the spread of the Oni Agent on Lajes was an exterminator.

  ***

  Meredith looked at the third freighter still floating upright in the water. A loose Goliath rampaged on the top deck and knocked over shipping containers. As it broke containers apart, more Skulls filled the ship. Some plunged uselessly over the side into the water. Others followed the chains to land like rats disembarking at a new port. The Russian soldiers and what remained of their Hybrid forces fired into the growing crowd of Skulls. Droolers fired back with sprays of acid, and a few Goliaths swung their huge fists, paying no heed to whether they were hitting human, Hybrid, or Skull.

  O’Neil winced. “We have lost most of the Hybrids.”

  “You can tell?” Meredith asked.

  “The signal or whatever it is just seems weaker.” The muscles in his jaw worked, clenching and unclenching. He looked as if he were chewing on gristle. Meredith guessed the pain was getting to him again. “We’ve got to finish this fast. We’re losing control.”

  “We only have two more of the bombs Meredith and I made,” Andris said. “This must count.”

  “I’ll take it to the ship,” Glenn volunteered.

  “Send me with him,” Spencer said. “We’ll end this bullshit right here, right now.”

  It broke Meredith’s heart to see the Hunters so willing to sacrifice themselves. There was now a roiling mass of Skulls and soldiers and enemy Hybrids between them and the remaining freighter. Even if the Hunters made it there, they knew they were buying a one-way ticket.

  “No,” O’Neil said. “None of you stands a chance. The Skulls will eat you alive if you don’t get shot first.”

  “We have no choice,” Jenna said. “I’ll swim from here if I have to.”

  “Too slow,” O’Neil said. He gestured to the four remaining Hybrids with the Hunters. “We are three navy SEALs and a Moroccan citizen with nothing to lose. We have the armor and speed. We can do this for you.”

  Andris hesitated. “Very well.” He held out the last of their homemade bombs.

  O’Neil rallied the Hybrids and disappeared into the chaos. Meredith tried to watch them as they plunged through the Skulls and soldiers, but it soon became impossible.

  “If they don’t make it,” she said, “we need some kind of contingency plan.”

  “I have no more explosives,” Andris said, “but we can at least damage the ship.”

  “What do you have in mind, bro?” Miguel asked.

  Andris pointed to the vacant anti-aircraft guns. The Russians had abandoned them in their losing land battle with the Skulls. “Those should put some holes into that freighter.”

  “It’s better than any plan I got,” Spencer said. “Which is nothing.”

  “Then let’s do it,” Meredith said.

  The group charged to the AA guns. Any Skulls that dared cross their path were met with bullets and blades. Once they reached the guns, they formed a perimeter.

  Andris went to the first. “They left these in working order for us. Very kind of them.” He glanced at the group as if sizing them up. “We need two people for each. Glenn?”

  Glenn nodded and sat in one of the seats next to him.

  “I will aim,” Andris said, “and you will fire when I say.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Don’t forget,” Meredith said, “we also need to trash these things when we leave.”

  Andris patted his tac vest. “I lied about being out of explosives. I have just enough C4 to ruin them. It is much easier to destroy these than the freighter.”

  Meredith settled in beside the anti-aircraft gun. Andris wheeled it around to aim at the ship. They waited, tension hanging in the air. Meredith’s heart thudded against her ribcage as she studied the stern of the freighter, waiting for an explosion. She needed to see that explosion. She needed to know that Spitkovsky’s Skull armies weren’t going to make landfall anywhere else. Let their rotted bodies clog this harbor and prevent any other ship from making port here.

  Her scope roved over the Skulls tearing apart the facility near the ship. She looked for the Hybrids, but she could hardly tell where one Skull ended and another began as the swarm pressed toward the ships.

  She was sure O’Neil and his Hybrids had failed. There was no way they could’ve made it through all of that to plant the C4.

  Then she saw a plume of water rise from the stern of the ship. It took a fraction of second for the sound wave to follow, hitting her with an almost palpable force. Another blast soon followed, and the container ship let out a metallic groan. It started to dip backward into the water, inch by inch.

  “Dom,” Meredith said. “Dom, can you hear me? We did it. The third ship is down. I repeat, the third ship is down.”

  “Copy,” Dom said, his voice sounding raspy and weak, as if he was choking down a cough.

  “Dom? What’s going on?” Meredith asked. “Dom? Do you read?”

  “I was in a crash,” Dom said. “No time to explain. I need backup by the helicopter pad. Spitkovsky is getting away.”

  “Christ,” Miguel said. “I don’t know how in the hell we’re going to make it there.”

  Meredith’s stomach lurched. Between them and the helipad was a wall of Skulls. The monsters that had been streaming straight through the shipyard had started to spread out, which meant the Hybrids must be losing control. There was no way the Hunters could get through the Skulls without taking heavy losses.

  Somewhere, past the writhing tide of diseased flesh, Dom needed her help.

  An explosion boomed across the shipyard. Fire rolled out of one of the warehouse’s windows. The FGL was losing their hold on their last bastion of defense. While the mission had gone haywire, the Hunters had succeeded in causing far more damage than they had ever intended.

  “Andris,” Meredith said, “the ship
is sinking. Can we use the guns to clear a hole in the Skulls now?”

  “We can definitely try,” Andris said.

  The AA guns exploded to life again, shells ripping into Skulls. Black smoke and showering debris filled the battlefield. Skulls were torn apart in the blasts, heads blowing away in red mist, limbs and torsos shredded. But Meredith could already see it might not be enough.

  “More Skulls incoming!” Jenna yelled, pointing in the opposite direction.

  Several dozen Skulls ambled toward them. Meredith opened fire along with Spencer, Miguel, and Jenna. Their fusillade tore through the rows of Skulls.

  She sighted up another target and started to squeeze the trigger. Then she let go, startled. “Hold your fire!”

  The last Skull wore pants like those of the prisoners that Alpha had rescued from the laboratory. And it was carrying a gun. As it drew closer, she realized it was no ordinary Skull. The man’s face was clearly that of a human’s despite the spikes and plates growing from his limbs.

  It was O’Neil. He was alone. He weaved between Skulls, firing on them or bashing them with the stock of his rifle. When he reached them through the carnage, dust and soot covering his face, he wore a solemn expression.

  “Where are the others?” Meredith asked, but she feared she already knew the answer.

  Instead of answering, O’Neil collapsed. His chest heaved as he sucked down air. He was weak, stretched to the limits of his starved body by the night’s events and the painful experiments that had wreaked havoc on his physiology.

  Forcing herself to ignore the instinctual loathing she felt for his grotesque appearance, Meredith reached down to help him sit up. She had a little bit of water left, and she offered it to him. After gulping it down, O’Neil met her questioning gaze. “They’re gone, ma’am. I’m all that’s left.”

  -43-

  Despite his shrieking pain, Dom leapt out of the wreckage of his MRAP. The RPG round had laid waste not just to the vehicle, but also the Skulls around it. Spears of metal jutted out from a few of the downed beasts. Others were little more than mangled limbs and torsos. They dragged themselves across the ground toward him, but Dom could already see the fire in the beasts’ eyes was dying out.