The Sixth Extinction America Omnibus [Books 1-12]

by Johnson, Glen

  “When I first arrived here, Groom Lake Base was destroyed, because we were studying one of those things there.”

  “Destroyed? And what do you mean studying it? What are they? Where did they come from?”

  They didn’t have the clearance, but they had heard the rumors about what Groom Lake, or Area 51 was all about. Just like the vast bunker that was nestled next to them. They could see it clearly marked on maps situated all over their department, but no one talked about it. It was the large elephant in the room.

  He ignored their questions and continued.

  “The situation was so bad; the president ordered six nuclear strikes, on different locations, plus blanket coverage of the whole island of Madagascar.”

  “Fuck!” Peter whispered. “I presume it’s something to do with those freaky spider things and the naked people in the chambers?”

  “Yes. And all that was caused by just one of those. Just imagine what will happen when those others reach the surface?”

  “No they won’t reach the surface. They have to go through the Furnace first. We can kill them there!” It sounded distant and muffled, but just loud enough to hear.

  As Bachman turned, he realized it was Emma talking.

  While Peter and Bachman chatted to one side, Emma had unzipped and climbed out of her suit. It lay in a large orange bundle on the floor. She was in a tight fitting white Tyvek suit. Bachman presumed she had the same Nomex jumpsuit beneath like he did. She was thin and lithe. Just a girl really at only eighteen.

  As he watched, she pulled the gasmask off but held onto it. They would still need them, just in case. Her brown, shoulder-length hair was wet with sweat, and stuck to her forehead.

  She has piercing blue eyes. Bright, intelligent, and full of life. She hasn’t given up yet.

  Peter had his hands up in front of his faceplate. “Oh my god, what are you doing?”

  If only Peter was half as strong.

  Emma looked so relieved to be out of the bulky, awkward suit.

  Why the fuck not? Bachman thought. The thick plastic will not protect me from their powerful legs, and the spores can only affect us if we breathe them in. It makes sense. We will be able to move faster. See better. Talk easier. All we really need is the mask. My fear blinded me to the truth. It wasn’t protecting me; I was hiding in it.

  He started to awkwardly undo the long yellow zip. The thick rubber gloves were next to useless; he couldn’t wait to get them off.

  Emma helped him. Within no time, he was climbing out of the boots. He pulled off a wet sock and tossed it as far away as possible. He then disconnected the rubber boots and put them back on. He pulled the gasmask down so it hung round his neck.

  “Jesus, that’s so much better.” He ran his hands through his sweaty hair.

  “Now what’s this about a furnace?”

  109

  Frank, Jessica, Bonnie, and Naomi

  In the container

  Just outside New York City

  Frank was lying upon his belly, with one hand resting over Jessica. They were all being tossed around by the erratic driving. He understood they had to get away.

  The problem was; Jessica picked the worse time imaginable to wake up. She was groaning softly, thrashing her arms around. She already slapped Frank in the face a couple of times, and once in the stomach.

  Jessica kept her eyes shut, due to the pain. She was confused and burning with a fever. She threw up the food she had eaten in the town. Vomit covered her top, and over a smelly blanket that was covering her, trying to keep her warm, as she slid about on the wooden floor. Her head was pounding, and her body ached as if she had been run over. The worst pain came from her leg. After a few minutes of thrashing, she fell back into unconsciousness. She had been dreaming about her family.

  Naomi was flat on her back, sliding from side to side, and pushing away from the metal walls when she got too close. Her head was pounding, and her throat was raw. What she wouldn’t give for a snort of coke right now, just to relax the muscles, to take away some of the anxiety and pain.

  Bonnie didn’t lay flat; she was crouched in a corner, using her hands to support herself. She had stopped crying, and she had a strange look upon her face. Her hair was all tangled, and she was gritting her teeth. Something was brewing in her mind.

  Then the truck bounced from the mud onto the road. They all slid down one side, slamming into the metal.

  Then the acceleration, that made them all slide towards the back. All apart from Bonnie who simply stared into space. She had moved from denial and isolation and had reached anger.

  They could feel the bouncing, and they could all sense the speed they were traveling. Then just when they thought things were calming down, Troy was letting up on the gas; they could hear an almighty screech of metal rendering. Then, within seconds, a massive jolt that sent everyone flying to the front of the container.

  Frank landed on Jessica. He felt his body push one end of the pipe through her leg. The wound was bleeding, now the pipe had been moved, and the hole reopened. It gushed like a geezer, obviously having pierced a main artery, which the pipe had plugged.

  While Naomi got up from just kicking Bonnie in the face, she realized she was being splashed by something warm. Her face and upper body was covered in Jessica’s blood.

  Frank was on his knees, trying to stem the bleeding with the horse blanket. It soaked up the blood like a sponge.

  Just when they all thought it couldn’t get any worse, gunfire rattled down the metal side of the container.

  Frank knew if someone didn’t do something soon, Jessica was going to die while he watched.

  Movement caught his eye.

  Bonnie stood up and shuffled to the back door. Her head was lowered, and she radiated anger. The key was in the lock. She undid the padlock and let the chain fall to the floor, and then she unlatched the large door and silently slid out into the night like a wraith.

  110

  Doctor Bachman, Peter, and Emma

  The main science block

  The underground bunker

  Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania

  “The Furnace is a fail safe. I heard one of the soldiers talking about it after I first arrived. Up on the uppermost level, where the main lift stops in the massive chamber that leads outside there is a protocol to stop any contagion from reaching the surface.” She walked over and found a chair that wasn’t covered in gore. She sat to rest her legs.

  “In case of an air born virus, the vast chamber is ignited for a split second, burning all the oxygen in one superheated blast.” She let her words hang in the air.

  “If we could adjust it to burn longer, we could wipe them all out in one sweep!” Peter excitedly stated. He also climbed out of his orange hazmat suit. He was tall and skinny. His hands and feet looked too big for his body. The inner suit didn’t quite reach his wrists and ankles, making him look comical.

  Bachman rested his head against the window glass while Emma talked.

  “Where are the controls?” he asked.

  “I have no idea, they didn’t say.” She was so tired. She rested her head in her hands.

  “I studied the large maps of this bunker whenever I could. I was interested in it – just through a long tunnel was a vast underground city. It intrigued me,” Peter stated.

  “There was one section called Mary, which is the supercomputer that runs the whole facility. If I were to guess, if the controls are anywhere it would be there.

  “And if I remember correctly the section the supercomputer is in, is Zone 12. And even though we are in Zone 1, Zone 12 is connected just on the northwest side of the city.”

  Bachman looked out of the window. There was no way of seeing past all the buildings. But at least they now had a plan, a direction to head off in.

  He heard glass shatter. He turned to find Emma using the leg off a metal chair to smash something on the wall that was covered in smeared blood. She tossed the chair to the side, and then kicked at the gla
ss. She forced a hand in and pulled out a long-handled axe.

  “Yes!” she shouted.

  “North west. Any idea which direction that is?” Bachman asked.

  “That way.” Peter pointed out the window towards a section of the large city.

  “Past all of them?” Emma asked as she watched the pods lead the tentacled army through the streets.

  “We have no choice. If they all reach the surface, it will be game over for humanity. We can possibly survive one strain of spores, but there’s no way in hell we could survive another seven!” Bachman stated as he headed towards what he hoped was the exit. As he passed Emma, he snatched the axe from her.

  PART FIVE

  No Turning Back

  111

  Bonnie, and the others

  Outside the container on the road

  Just outside New York City

  The truck sat motionless on the road. There was no movement. Everyone was holding their breath. The first person to fire would give their location away, and the flare from their barrel would be a target, like a lit up Christmas tree.

  The darkness was almost complete. Even though she couldn’t see a thing, Bonnie moved through the night as if she was aware of everything. Her anger heightened her senses. Adrenaline pumped through her body like electricity.

  A gun hasn’t been fired in a couple of minutes, which seemed to stretch into hours. The tension in the air was almost static.

  Bonnie dropped down and moved away from the back of the metal container and headed to the side of the road. The air was much cooler outside the stuffy metal box.

  The soldiers who had ambushed them ignored the sound of the chain dropping to the ground, possibly presuming it was a ploy to get them to fire their weapons.

  Bonnie sidestepped the thick chain.

  The clouds blocked out the moonlight. It started to rain. She could hear it pattering against the metal roof of the container. The sound gave her a sense of how far she had traveled. Within only a minute, the pattering turned into a torrential downpour. The smell of wet loam and grass filled her lungs. She missed the smell of normality. As of late, she only smelt fetid, stale air, and death. She had become accustomed to the smell of a dead body.

  Anger boiled through Bonnie like a supernova. The loss of her brother had ignited something deep inside her. He was all she had left. He was always there to protect her, even from their own father. Now he was gone, taken by the foul creatures that ravished the world – the new dominate species that would wipe humanity away. Mankind’s time is over.

  She couldn’t do anything about the infected, but she could help with the soldiers by attacking them. In a roundabout way, it was because of them Juan was dead. Their interfering and cruelty had caused them to lose many of their numbers – Juan, Phyllis, Abigail, Cody, and soon Jessica. They had a lot to answer for, and she was in the mindset to dish out some hurt. It wouldn’t bring her brother, and the others back, but by god, it would make her feel a lot better, and be damned to whatever happened to her. What was the point of living anyway? Life would be empty and pointless without her brother, and she reasoned, if she left to join him now, maybe whatever happened next, they could accomplish together. The saying ‘Live together, die alone’ rang through her mind. She didn’t want to go out like Cody – selfishly. She wanted to join Juan, but in doing so, she could help the others out in the process.

  Her bare feet moved along the dark asphalt of the road, as rain danced up off the surface, and ran down her slender ankles. It also ran down her face and into her mouth and eyes. She started shaking. She didn’t care. It will soon be over. She didn’t remember taking her shoes off. The road was cold and hard on her tender feet. She shivered, but she didn’t know if it was from the cold or from the adrenalin pumping through her.

  Bonnie’s hand reached for the concealed knife. It was one she stole from the dead body of the soldier who tried to rape her. She hid it away, so she never had to worry or fear she would be forced to do something against her will again. She was small and weak, but the knife gave her comfort. It felt reassuring to hold the handle.

  Too many times in her life she felt like the victim. Too many times she felt helpless. It was time to turn the tables. Time to step up, and standup for herself. Time to be the one dishing out the pain, rather than being on the receiving end for a change. The tables had turned.

  She gripped the knife so hard her knuckles turned white. It would come in useful now. Her last act in this sick, cruel world. Soon, due to the infection there would be no one left anyway, just the undead creeping over the landscape until they pitched forward and turned to dust. If she left now maybe she could get into heaven before it filled up. She reasoned the soldiers were evil. It was a kindness taking one of their souls. She would be rewarded for her service. She knew Frank would agree with her.

  She had left Frank leaning over the body of Jessica, muttering a pray for her departed soul. The crash into the object on the road had finished her off. She had lost a lot of blood. The crash twisted the metal in her leg, ripping her festering wound, splintering the bone further as they were all slammed around against the metal walls.

  The rain poured down making her look like she crawled from the ocean. Her hair was plastered against her pale face. She could taste the ozone in the air, as if lightning was about to crack open the ground beneath her feet.

  In a flash of sheet lightning, the road lit up. She could see a man directly ahead. He was concentrating on the direction of the jeep. He stared down the barrel of the machinegun, oblivious to her mere meters away, stood like a vengeful statue.

  She guessed there must be men attacking them due to the crash and gunfire. The lightning had confirmed her theory.

  The sky resorted back to darkness. The image was burned into Bonnie’s mind. Every ounce of her strength was concentrated on the man who was intent on killing them all. All her sadness, loss, loneliness, and most importantly, anger rose inside her bubbling to the surface. She raised the knife and ran the remainder of the distance as she muttered, “I love you, Juan. Wait for me, I’m on my way.”

  112

  Doctor Bachman, Peter, and Emma

  The main science block

  The underground bunker

  Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania

  Bachman led the way. He held the axe with both hands, ready to swing it at a moments notice. Blood and gore filled the rooms and hallways. Chunks of hair with brown bile and shit gathered in fetid pools. Long streaks were smeared through the carnage. He was glad of the gasmask that saved him from the worst of the smell. However, the bottom of the one-piece Nomex jumpsuit, above his rubber boots was soaked through with browny-red sludge. His feet squelched through the pools of rancid body fluids.

  All these people. All the lives ended prematurely. So much death and violence.

  He waded through the remains of people who were just doing their jobs.

  Emma and Peter followed closely behind. Emma held a metal chair leg in one hand, while Peter carried a medium sized fire extinguisher.

  They all made better progress without the bulky hazmat suits. They felt liberated.

  As they moved through the building, they kept looking out the windows, as the pods gathered the remains of the humans into groups that were led away towards the large elevator. The vast swirling cloud of spores up near the towering, arched ceiling was growing bigger with each passing minute, as more lines of black clouds trailed from broken windows to join it. From a distance it looked like a swarm of black insects – a biblical plague brought to life.

  After everything he witnessed, there was no doubt in his mind these creatures were sentient. The spores could have raced off ahead, but they waited. Also, the pods wouldn’t be herding everything to the large industrial lift if they didn’t know how, or were confident they could operate it.

  Bachman removed the radio from the outside of his suit, and carried it in his pocket – it may come in useful if there was anyone left alive outside. As of yet
he hadn’t had time to try to reach anyone. The first chance he got he would hand it over to Peter to see if he could raise someone. He wasn’t very hopeful, if Peter could get through to the army barracks outside, he would have already done so, or at least tried. It was a localized device made for simply communicating between departments.

  As they reached a new door, without knowing what the room or corridor held waiting, they would have to slow down. So far, all they found was death and destruction. Everything was painted in hues of reds and browns. From the body parts remaining and the mess that covered the floor, walls, and ceiling, it was hard to tell how many had been killed. They were yet to find another living soul.

  Bachman realized that if they did somehow survive getting to Zone 12, and also killing the creatures, while managing to lock themselves away inside the bunker, they would be left with the remains splattered everywhere.

  One thing at a time, he reasoned. Blood and body parts are the least of our worries. He couldn’t help his analytical mind, when he was nervous it started kicking out random problems, to distract him.

  Their destination was one zone away in Zone 12. They hoped they would be able to use Mary, the bunkers supercomputer to readjust the Furnace, and destroy the creatures and spores before they reached the surface. The only problem with the scenario is, they had no idea how to accomplish their objective. They would have to wait until they reached the computers main control room and then work it out from there. First, they had to reach it without being spotted and turned into one of the horrific zombie-like creatures.

  Bachman stopped suddenly and knelt behind an upturned desk. Emma was quickly by his side. Peter was all elbows and knees as he awkwardly hustled up besides them.

  “What is it?” Peter asked through the mask, which made him sound distant.