The Sixth Extinction America Omnibus [Books 1-12]

by Johnson, Glen

  “On it,” Lindell said.

  “Caroline, go with them, and on the way get them both an automatic weapon.”

  However, Caroline didn’t answer, and she wasn’t looking at the boat crumpled against their side; she was staring out to sea.

  Smokie scanned the horizon. That’s when she also noticed the second ship heading straight at them.

  213

  Bachman and Emma

  Zone 4

  The underground bunker

  Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania

  They both held their breath.

  There was a rustle from outside, and a muffled cough.

  Emma and Bachman looked at each other. The infected didn’t sneak around, and they certainly didn’t try to cough quietly.

  Emma jumped up and swung the door open. As she did a figure fell backwards, clattering onto a group of chairs.

  A small plump man in a dark-green boiler suit lay among the toppled furniture. He had his hands over his face. He was also screaming like a banshee.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Emma hissed as she booted him in the shin, to stop him from bringing every creature in the area running towards them.

  The man stopped squirming and looked through the gap in his fingers. His arms dropped to his sides, and he let out a long breath.

  “You’re not a zombie!” the man said in a strained voice. “Thank you baby Jesus!”

  “No shit Sherlock,” Emma said. “Who’re you?”

  Bachman stood next to Emma as they watched the short man climb to his feet. He looked to be in his mid-forties.

  “I’m Captain Ralph ‘Bulldozer’ Hill.”

  “Bulldozer?” Emma asked.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Forget that, you’re a captain?” Bachman said.

  “I’ve been flying choppers for sixteen years,” he announced proudly. “And am I glad to see you both, I thought I was the only one left.” He up righted a chair and sat down. His feet only just touched the floor. He rubbed his shin where Emma booted him.

  “How did you survive?” Emma asked.

  “I’m guessing whatever this shit is that killed everyone; it was airborne?”

  He watched Bachman nod in agreement. He could also see Bachman was leaning to one side, and in obvious pain.

  “I was in the mechanic’s bay, spraying the side panel on an IAV Styker.”

  “Air filter mask?” Bachman asked.

  “Yes.” He rubbed a small tubby hand over his face. “I was in there for hours, while listening to some AC/DC on my iPod. When I came out… I… it was…” He looked at the floor while shaking his head.

  “We know,” Emma muttered.

  “Then I was hiding in one place after another.” He used his hands a lot when he talked. He started swinging them around. “The people looked like their top half had exploded!” He looked at them both.

  “Like, what the fuck?” His hands went wide.

  “And all these black tentacle things were growing everywhere.” He took a long gulp of air. “Then the fuckers started getting back up, after they grew legs! Fucking spider’s legs! God have mercy on us all. And these creepy looking blob type things with legs started herding them around. Can you believe this shit?”

  “Are you on your own?” Emma questioned.

  “No, I was with Pete. He was working on the same vehicle as me. We stuck together for a while, but he took it into his head to go looking for other people. I never saw him again.”

  “Where is the mechanical bay?” Bachman asked, curious about how far the man traveled.

  “Zone 7, where all the military vehicles are kept. I’ve been touching up the ones that have been dinged while being shifted around, so the metal doesn’t rust while they are stored for so long.”

  “If you’re a pilot, why were you spray painting?” Emma asked.

  “Ever since the shit hit the fan and the world turned crazy, and people dropped into comas then woke up and started eating each other; I do whatever I’m told to.”

  Emma simply nodded.

  “You know where there’s a helicopter?” Bachman said.

  “Of course I do; I fly th– wait a minute; you don’t want to go up there do you? That’s where all the creatures are heading. I’ve been watching them gathering around the main elevator. And can you believe it, the fuckers know how to use it!” He looked from one to the other. “Wait until they all get outside and lock them out, that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “But if they get outside there will be more strains of the infection,” Emma stated.

  “And?” Ralph shrugged. “What difference does it make; they are going to die one way or another. What does it matter if their head explodes, or their guts fall out? Dead is dead.”

  “With one strain the world might bounce back, but with six new ones, we’re fucked!”

  “How do you know so much about it?” Ralph asked, while giving them another look over. And for that matter, why the hell are you both wearing wetsuits?”

  “It’s a long story,” Bachman said.

  “I am a lab rat,” Emma stated.

  “And I am a bio-scientist.”

  “I knew quite a few scientists; I like to hang out with them at chow time; they didn’t talk much, and I like that in a table partner. I don’t remember seeing you around the mess hall.”

  “I wasn’t stationed here; I am from another military facility.”

  “Is it close?”

  “Groom Lake.”

  “Shit, you mean Area Fifty-fucking-One?”

  “Some people call it that.”

  “Shit, it’s because of people like you messing around with nature that we are in this situation to start with.”

  “I think you will find it was going to happen sooner or later,” Bachman said. “Wait a minute, you said, ‘that’s what I’m going to do.’ You said you’re going to lock them out.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I’m going to let them out then close the front door on the lot of ‘em. Let them pound their tentacles on the main bunker door, see where that gets them.”

  “You know how to do that?” Emma asked.

  “Sure, I’ve had training on quite a few different systems down here.” He looked from one to the other. “Why’d ya ask?”

  “You know anything about a system called The Furnace?” Bachman said.

  “Sure the fail safe to stop airborne thingamajigs from exiting the bunker into the outside atmosphere, sort of thing. Why?”

  “So you’re telling me you can kick that thing up a few thousand degrees and burn the fuck out of all those creatures?” Emma asked.

  Ralph rubbed his chin. “I guess that’s possible. So long as I turn off the fail safe’s and limit the oxygen intake, so it doesn’t rush down the shaft and turn into a doomsday explosion and suck all the air out of the bunker.” He stared at them both. “You know the system for controlling The Furnace is in Zone 12?”

  “We do; we have been trying to get there,” Bachman stated.

  “However,” Ralph said, “you can access the system from any main computer terminal if you have the proper clearance level.”

  “Please tell me you have clearance?” Emma said.

  “Hello! I am a Captain, you know, and I just happened to receive clearance two days after the shit hit the fan. They have been training people on as many different zones as possible, so if something did happen, to say the guy whose job it is to run the main warehouse; someone can step in and replace him. As you can imagine, once we were locked down here, there wouldn’t be much call for a pilot.”

  “Someone has got to be looking after us,” Emma explained. “This is too much of a coincidence, how else did you just happen to stumble onto us?”

  “I didn’t,” he stated, “I followed a trail of that,” he said pointing at drops and splatters of black gunk that must have dripped from their wetsuits.

  Ralph climbed to his stumpy feet and changed the subject. “Well, do you want to just stand there and loo
k a gift horse in the mouth, or do you want to burn the crap out of these fuckers?”

  “I think I’m going to like you,” Emma said.

  214

  Naomi and the others

  On the cargo ship

  Somewhere off the shore in New York State

  Naomi shot out of the door like a bullet from a gun. She almost collided right into Alex, who was running back toward the superstructure to warn the others. Not that they needed any warning, everyone must have felt the impact.

  “I think there’s someone down there,” Naomi stated, while trying to catch her breath, before Alex even had time to comprehend that she had appeared.

  “I don’t think that’s th–”

  “Aren’t you listening, you little prick. Someone is below deck; I heard them. There was a clatter of metal onto the decking.” She stood staring at Alex.

  “Didn’t you feel the impact?”

  “What are you going on about?” Naomi spat.

  “Seriously, you didn’t feel it hit?”

  “Feel what hit?” She was so scared she didn’t even notice the collision.

  Alex pointed over the metal railing.

  “What the fuck are you going on about? Are you tripping?”

  “Just look over the side.”

  Naomi gave him a sideways glance, as if expecting him to push her overboard.

  However, when she looked over the edge, directly below them was a boat that had collided with the side of the cargo ship. The front of the smaller boat was compressed and crumpled. It was hard to tell by looking down whether the cargo ship was damaged.

  “Holy Mother of God. When did that happen?”

  “Seriously?” It was Alex’s time to stare at Naomi as if she was a sandwich short of a picnic.

  “There’s people on that boat!” Naomi stated while leaning over a little further as if it would help her vision.

  “What?”

  There was a whistling sound as an object shot between them. It clattered loudly across the deck twenty feet away and then started to slide back towards the railing, before getting caught. It was a grappling hook.

  215

  Troy and the others

  On the cargo ship

  Somewhere off the shore in New York State

  Troy lay across the bed in his assigned cabin. He could hear the commotion outside in the mess hall. He had showered and shaved, and now lay naked stretched out on top of the sheets.

  He was about to get changed and join everyone else for a meal. He was looking forward to sitting down with everyone and acting as if everything was normal. He could do with some normal. Then he was going to help Alan with the engines.

  However, now there was another crisis. From what he could gather, from the shouting on the other side of the door, the ship had been rammed. He felt the impact.

  If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Even this impressive, vast ship is not safe; he reasoned.

  Every time he got his hopes up, decided to carry on, something else happened. He was tired of running and fighting. Tired of killing people that used to be just like him. Tired of salting the earth with the creature’s blood. He could picture the infected face down on the pebbled beach, as he crushed their skulls in with the thick branch.

  He closed his eyes and pushed his hands together. Between them was the photo of his dead wife Sonja.

  He was not going to fight any more.

  Years ago, he had watched the film Titanic with Sonja, and she was impressed by the scene where the old man and woman were dressed up in their best clothes and lay holding each other on the bed, as the vessel sank and the water swirled around them. It was the part she cried at the most.

  Troy would lie dreaming about his wife while the mayhem swirled around him. He would lie peacefully until the end came, in whatever form.

  Soon he would be in the arms of his loving wife once again.

  We will be together soon, my love.

  216

  The Furnace

  On the surface in the main warehouse

  Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania

  The creatures were jostling for space. Tentacles lashed and battered at each other, due to their close proximity. The smaller pods hustled around, gently touching the agitated creatures, settling them down, like shepherds with a deformed flock.

  At the front of the sickening collection of disfigured remains of humans, along with a large assortment of gathered animals, stood the largest pod. Motionless it waited for the army to amass behind it. It needed as many as it could gather, due to the military compound outside, in case there were any humans left to put up any resistance as they exited.

  Above, churning across the ceiling was a thick cloud of black spores. It undulated like a living thing.

  The last of the creatures were coming up on the large main elevator. The machinery clicked into place. The infected assortment of creatures poured across the concrete to join the rest.

  With a slam of a spidery leg, the large pod cracked the control panel to the thick, main hanger doors. With a rumbling sound, the towering blast doors slowly started to slide open. Sunlight poured in, washing over the collection of nightmarish creatures.

  As the sun and fresh air washed throughout the warehouse tentacles started to thrash in a frenzy. Above, the thick cloud of black spores started to pour towards the outside world.

  217

  Smokie and the others

  On the cargo ship

  Somewhere off the shore in New York State

  Smokie squinted her eyes. Terrance, Lindell, and Caroline hadn’t moved. The new ship heading in their direction was consuming their concentration.

  “Is it going to ram us, just like the first?” Caroline asked. Her hands nervously gripped the railing.

  “One I could understand, a ship floating crewless, unpiloted, with the crew succumbed to the black spores that just happened to hit us, instead of smashing against the rocks. But two, that’s not coincidence; that’s planned,” Terrance said.

  “True, there’s a calculated mind behind it,” Lindell stated.

  None of them had binoculars. There were some in the mess hall, but in the rush, they were left behind.

  The ship looked bigger than the last one. It was hard to tell its size because of the distance, and because it was heading directly at them.

  “That vessel is moving fast,” Lindell said.

  “It looks kind of military,” Caroline stated.

  It was a white ship, with lots of antennas and dishes on long thick poles. But what caught everyone’s attention was the large mounted gun at the bow.

  “Ah shit,” Terrance said. “That’s a Melara 76mm Super Rapid gun, mounted in a stealth cupola.”

  “In English please,” Smokie asked.

  “My brother was a military weapon’s buff when he was in his teens. That also crossed over to the Coastguard,” Lindell stated.

  As he said that the vessel was now close enough to pick out all the details, and it had slowed and was turning to show its port side. It was a stark white ship with a red band near the bow, with U.S. Coastguard 715 printed in huge black letters on the side.

  Caroline screamed, “We’re saved!”

  However, Smokie wasn’t convinced. Something didn’t feel right. Her fears were answered when a voice boomed over the Coastguards loudspeaker.

  “This is the coastguard cutter Hamilton,” laughter could be heard in the background behind the speaker’s voice. “I am ordering you to lower your weapons. We are going to board you. Anyone who shows signs of resistance will be shot and their bodies thrown overboard!”

  They could see people lining the deck. They didn’t look like the coastguard. There were no uniforms, just scruffy, mismatched clothes – a motley crew of cutthroats and scavengers. They all held automatic weapons.

  The large front mounted gun turned towards the cargo ship.

  218

  Bachman, Emma, and Ralph

  Zone 4

  The undergr
ound bunker

  Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania

  Bachman couldn’t believe their luck. The only other person they had found alive knew how to operate The Furnace, and they didn’t even need to get to Zone 12.

  It’s about time we caught a break.

  The news rejuvenated him. He still felt like he had gone ten rounds with a heavyweight bare-knuckle boxer. However, there was now hope. Hope was a powerful painkiller.

  “I was heading for Zone 4 and this main terminal,” Ralph stated. “I’ve been slowly, and very carefully working my way through the zones, looking for Pete, and food and water.”

  “I’m amazed you haven’t been found,” Emma stated.

  “You’ve also survived,” Ralph said.

  “Trust me, we have been chased a few times,” Bachman said. “And these things give you a run for your money.”

  They were slowly moving through the corridors, sidestepping gore and ducking under stalactites of congealed blood.

  “Dear Lord,” Ralph muttered as he stopped by a desk in a corner, where the chair was tipped over with clumps of black hair stuck to the computer screen, surrounded by globs of flesh.

  “This was Merrill’s desk. She had such a kind, gentle soul.” He stared at the pile of intestines next to two bloody green high-heel shoes. He gave a sob.

  “I’m sorry,” Emma whispered, while putting a hand on his thick, rounded shoulder.

  “I can mourn later,” he said rallying himself. “Let’s kill all these sons of bitches!” He gave a loud sniff. “Just over here.”

  The offices gave way to a short corridor that had just one room at the end.

  “A backup server. Every zone has one, in case there’s a problem with Zone 12, or the system starts shutting down section by section. The one in Zone 6 is destroyed. There’s blood everywhere, so I guess someone popped in there."