Sophie stopped a few feet behind Overton. The cat was the first domesticated animal they had come across. It looked like an image from an animal welfare advertisement. What little hair it had left was in patchy clumps. Its ribs poked out of its shriveled skin. Sophie bent down and tried to pet the cat’s head, but it swiped at her with a clawed paw and hissed.
“We need to move,” Overton said. “Get your ass up, Bouma, and get rid of that cat.”
Sophie watched it scamper down the train tracks. Shaking her head, she grabbed Jeff’s hand again and followed the marines down the passage.
“How much longer until we reach the residential station?” Sophie whispered.
Overton checked his HUD. “Looks like at least another hour or so. Then we wait for Kiel.”
Sophie thought of the marine climbing up the mountainside, the weapon dangling off his back. Without one of the NTC suits, he was completely unprotected from the heat. If he didn’t take breaks in the shade, he was bound to suffer heatstroke, no matter how agile or strong he was.
Just the thought of being exposed to the sun without a suit increased her blood pressure. It was cooler in the darkness of the subway, but not much. Even with a ventilation system, her armored suit felt like a furnace. Jeff appeared to be suffering just as badly without one. Sophie glanced down at the boy, who stumbled along in the darkness.
The sound of their footsteps echoed off the tunnel walls as they made their way deeper into the system. Entering the subway was like being sealed in a coffin, and she was beginning to feel trapped. She had thought she would feel safer here, but now she knew there was no place that felt safe.
A peculiar beep rang out. She stopped abruptly, glancing from side to side.
“What the hell is that?” Overton asked after the second chirp.
“I don’t . . .” Sophie began to say. Then she saw it. Her radio had come back online. A signal zigzagged across the display. She switched off her night vision with a blink and dropped Jeff’s hand.
“Turn the volume down,” Overton whispered over the net.
With a quick swipe, Sophie lowered the sound. Nothing but white noise crackled out of the speakers. Whoever was trying to get a hold of them wasn’t getting their message through.
“The tunnel is probably interfering with the transmission,” she said.
“Another reason to keep moving,” Overton said. “Let’s go. If that’s Alex, he’s still alive and can wait until we’re done here.”
Taking one last look at the display, Sophie felt a sudden surge of hope.
* * *
Captain Noble walked into the cargo bay with mixed feelings. While he was happy to finally have the opportunity to fight, he was sad to leave his crew behind. He looked over the unit of NTC Special Forces soldiers gathering beneath him. They moved nimbly in their sleek black armor, their goggles emitting a fiery glow that illuminated the metal deck.
Their team lead, a man by the name of Sergeant Donald Harrington, sensed Noble’s presence and looked up at him. “Captain on deck,” he yelled. The other soldiers stood at attention and saluted Noble, who frowned and said, “At ease, at ease.”
Grabbing the ladder, Noble made his way down to the floor. In the corner of the room, he saw two workers mopping up grease. Like any well-oiled machine, Ghost of Atlantis had a job for everyone.
“Harrington, how long until we can get this thing airborne?”
“She’s ready to fly, sir.”
Noble marveled at the gunship. It was no ordinary helicopter, with titanium plates covering the outer shell and two inches of steel below that. The chopper easily fit thirty people in its cargo bay. It had stealth technology and an array of weapons including two side-mounted high-caliber pulse cannons and various rockets. The chopper could travel 350 miles per hour, making it one of the fastest gunships on the planet.
“Like a tank with rotors and a race car engine,” Noble muttered.
“Sir?” Harrington asked.
“Nothing.” The captain followed the soldiers as they walked single file up the ramp into the belly of the flying fortress. When it was his turn to enter, Noble slipped on his helmet and took a deep breath of the filtered air. It stunk of new plastic, just like the gas masks he’d been trained to use years before. He hated the smell. He flexed his arms inside his Kevlar armor, getting used to the feel of it. Glancing back at his ship one last time, he climbed into the chopper.
* * *
In the CIC, Lieutenant Commander Richards got the green light. “Irene, retrieve the radio mast and surface.”
“One moment, sir.”
A groan from the bowels of the ship echoed through the passages as the sail compartment above the deck exploded through the waves. Richards could picture it, like the fin of a shark hunting its prey. The Ghost of Atlantis had surfaced.
He gripped his seat while the sub settled. Once his control panel glowed a healthy green, he swiveled his chair and hovered over another dashboard. Glancing at the middle console, he checked to ensure all systems were operational. With a deep breath he opened the com line to the chopper. “Sea Serpent, this is GOA, all systems are clear. Over.”
“Roger that, GOA,” the pilot responded.
Richards looked back down at the button that activated the cargo bay door, his finger hovering over it. The only thing between the chopper and the Organics was a thick metal door, one he controlled. The entire mission made him uneasy, but orders were orders, and Captain Noble seemed confident. Without further hesitation, Richards punched the button.
He watched the doors crack open, revealing a brilliant sun overhead. They hadn’t seen the sun for days. No. Weeks.
With a sigh, Richards sat back in his chair and watched the monitor.
“Sir, we have a situation,” Trish, the senior communications officers said.
Richards stiffened. What now? he thought.
“A guard just found Alex Wagner,” she continued.
“What’s your point?” replied Richards, craning his head back to study her face.
“He’s dead, sir. Hung himself in his quarters.”
Richard swallowed hard and turned to face the younger officer. This was the last thing he wanted to tell Captain Noble before the Sea Serpent embarked on its most important mission.
“How many people know?”
“The guard, his commanding officer, and us,” replied Trish promptly, her eyes narrowing in on him.
“Good; keep it that way. I don’t want this affecting Captain Noble’s mission.”
Trish paused for a brief moment before gesturing with the slightest of nods. “Yes, sir.”
* * *
In the cargo bay, the rectangular roof compartment angled upward. Rays of bright sunlight washed over the compartment. The pilot held his hands to his visor to block the sun. “Tint,” he said. The windshield turned a glassy gray in the blink of an eye.
After performing his preflight checklist, he maneuvered the bulky gunship onto the helipad. Another groan vibrated through the craft as the platform rose toward the opening.
With the chopper in position, he checked the monitor to make sure the craft was clear on all sides. A green light flashed, and with a single swipe from his index finger, he initiated the chopper’s multiple rotors. The blades above turned silently, a product of the best stealth technology NTC had to offer.
“GOA, this is Sea Serpent, requesting permission for takeoff,” the pilot said calmly. He stared out over the open ocean, the magnificent view a reminder of what they were still fighting for.
“Permission granted. Get back to us in one piece. Over,” Lieutenant Commander Richards replied.
Captain Noble’s voice crackled over the com. “Don’t wait up for us, Richards.”
The pilot grinned and listened to a few of the Special Forces soldiers chuckle over the com before turning to stare ou
t the recently cleaned windshield. Underneath both wings he could see the waves slurping against the GOA’s sides.
“Time to put on a show for the aliens,” the pilot said. His words drew more laughter as he clicked one last button before pulling them into the air.
He watched the sub sink back into the water, bubbles and white caps churning above the water. And just like that, it was gone.
“Good luck,” the pilot whispered as the helicopter raced toward the coast.
* * *
The remnants of orbs lined the tracks like popped balloons. Sophie squeezed Jeff’s hand as they came upon them.
“What do you see?” he asked.
Sophie smiled. He was a smart kid; a simple squeeze from her hand was enough to get his attention.
A few feet ahead Overton paused to check out the gory remains. “This didn’t show up on the bot’s video feed,” he said.
Bouma emerged from the shadows and bent down to look at what had once been some sort of animal. Sophie studied it too. It was hard to make out at first, but the claws and lumps of black fur were enough to tell her it was probably a raccoon.
Bouma stood and looked down the tunnel. “Maybe we took a wrong turn?”
“Negative. We’re right where we should be.”
“I don’t like this,” Bouma said, unshouldering his rifle.
Overton cocked his helmet to look at Sophie and Jeff. “Stay close.”
They moved as a pack, the sound of the rap of their footfalls clanking noisily over the metal. With every step, they drew closer to their destination—the human farms.
After another fifteen minutes of trekking through the tunnels Overton stopped abruptly. He balled his hand into a fist. Sophie tried to swallow, but her dry throat made it nearly impossible. Something was wrong. He was spooked.
Sophie felt Jeff tighten his grip on her armored hand. She leveled her pistol into the darkness, scanning the passage from side to side.
No contacts. Just the green outlines of modern infrastructure.
Silence consumed them. Another minute passed. Then two. Overton remained completely still, frozen like a statue.
A crackle of static broke over her headset, nearly making her fire off a random shot. She eased her finger off the trigger. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to their position.
“I lost the feed,” Overton finally said in a hushed voice.
“What?” Bouma whispered.
“The bot feed. It just cut out.”
“Can you rewind the video?” Bouma asked.
“Working on it.”
Sophie waited in silence. The tunnel was completely still, no sign of life, but somewhere out there she could sense the aliens.
Overton cursed. “Looks like the stupid bot ran smack into the middle of a nest of Spiders.”
“Shit. How far?” Bouma asked. His typically calm voice sounded strained.
“Not far. Maybe two turns. It’s hard to say for sure . . . God!” Overton crouched on the ground and hit his helmet with his right hand.
Sophie watched the man smack his head repeatedly. Was he losing it at last?
“Overton?” Bouma finally asked, approaching the man. “What are your orders?”
The marine stopped hitting his helmet but didn’t get up. He remained crouched, staring into the tunnel.
“Sir?” Bouma entreated.
At the end of the passage, right before it curved into another tunnel, a light emerged. Sophie’s heart stopped. With a blink, she clicked off her infrared and night vision so she could see it with her own eyes.
The aliens had found them.
The tunnel was bathed in blue light. The terrifying scratching sound came seconds later.
Jeff let go of her hand and moved behind her. “Sophie,” he whispered.
Bouma took another step closer to Overton, who watched the halo of blue light intensify. “Sir! What are your orders?!”
Overton slowly cocked his helmet up at the man. “I’ll hold them off.”
Sophie looked at the man in disbelief. He had zero electromagnetic grenades, only one pulse magazine, and a handful of regular grenades that she doubted would have any effect.
Yup. The man has officially lost his mind, Sophie thought. She grabbed Jeff and knelt down in front of him. “Listen to me very carefully. You hold on to my hand and don’t let go. You got it?”
Jeff nodded, his eyes reflecting the blue light of the approaching aliens.
Sophie spun quickly to see Bouma grab Overton’s shoulder.
“No way, Overton, that’s suicide,” Bouma shouted.
“Go!” Overton yelled, jumping to his feet and leveling his rifle in the light’s direction.
Bouma ran over to Sophie and Jeff. “You heard him. Move!”
His voice was deep and commanding, but Sophie hesitated. They couldn’t just leave Overton. He was wasting his life. His sacrifice would buy them seconds at best.
“Come on!” Bouma said, running back the way they had come.
Sophie finally moved—but not toward Bouma. “Watch him,” she said, pushing Jeff toward the marine.
She ran as hard as she could to catch up with Overton. By the time she got to him, he was crouching behind a trash bin, his weapon pointed at the approaching glimmering light. Sophie still couldn’t see them, but she could hear them. And she could feel them. The tunnel walls shook with the vibrations of the approaching horde.
But she wasn’t going to let her fear take hold of her. Not anymore—not when it mattered most. She tapped on Overton’s visor with her .45.
“What the hell! I told you to get out of here!”
Another vibration shook the passage, and dust rained down from the ceiling.
“Please, we need you,” Sophie said.
Overton pushed himself off the ground and stood shoulder to shoulder with her while he watched the light intensify. A second tremor shook the ceiling and Overton cocked his helmet to look at Sophie. “You really are a pain in my ass, you know that?” Shouldering his weapon he said, “How fast can you run?”
Then he exploded into a sprint.
Sophie wasn’t prepared for the rhetorical question, but she didn’t hesitate. It only took her two heartbeats to catch up with him. When she passed him, she stole a glance over her shoulder. The entire tunnel was lit up like one massive LED.
Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.
The first Spiders came crashing around the corner, tumbling into a somersault with limbs flailing. The next batch slowed by sliding their claws across the concrete. A trail of sparks funneled behind them. The first three Spiders lost their balance and tumbled over one another. They were quickly crushed by the advancing pack, their blue blood painting the tunnel wall.
As Sophie and Overton finally made their way around the first turn, the Spiders’ shrieks slashed through the passage. Only this time it was louder, it was more concentrated, and it wasn’t coming from the Spiders. It was coming from one of the Steam Beasts.
CHAPTER 28
THE sweat was flowing freely off Kiel’s face. Every time he wiped it away, it would drench his gloves, which made it more difficult to get a proper grip on the rocks. He was resting now in the crevice of the mountain, watching the blue drone zip back and forth across the skyline. It was hunting. He could only hope it wasn’t looking for the others. They would surely be deep within the city now. And that meant he was running out of time.
He took one last swig of water and tossed the empty bottle over the edge. Looking up, he could see he was almost to the spot Alexia had plotted on his tablet. At least he thought he was. Without the device, it was really tough to tell. The mountain was starting to blend together, and he wasn’t sure which route up was the best.
With the trail ending, he was now at the technical part of the climb. The mountain curved up
into a smooth vertical wall at least fifteen feet high. Fortunately there wasn’t much wind, just a breeze coming from the southwest. With a deep breath, he rubbed his hands together and brushed another bead of sweat out of his eyes with his sleeve.
Grabbing the weapon’s makeshift straps, he threw it around his shoulders. The rectangular box dug into his shoulder blades, which were already raw from carrying it this far. If he made it back, he was going to ask someone for a massage . . .
If.
He swept his gaze across the vertical mountainside, trying to visually map out a route. There was no way around it; he would have to go straight up. He could identify several areas for his hands and feet, but there was at least a five-foot span where the rock was completely smooth.
He looked back over the valley below and studied the distant city. Heat waves shimmered over the dead landscape, making the skyscrapers look like metal weeds swaying in a breeze. Most of his squad had died out there, and his brother and sister, too. He’d been so caught up in trying to survive, he had hardly thought of anyone else. And now he had a chance to avenge them.
This was his chance to make things right.
He slid out of his boots and tossed them aside. There was no way they’d get any traction on the smooth surface. He was better off barefoot. Bending down, he grabbed some powder he’d made from crushed chalk he’d found in the CIC. He sprinkled it over his feet, hoping it would keep most of the sweat off.
With his fingers and toes powdered, he retrieved a pickaxe, a knife, and the short tactical rope they had pulled from the Humvee. He pulled the rope as hard as he could, testing its strength. The cord needed to hold at least 220 pounds—the combined weight of him and the RVAMP.
He scanned the route one more time. Protruding from the cliff top was a decent-sized tree. He squinted, trying to determine how thick it was, but with the constant stream of sweat, his eyes were becoming too irritated to concentrate. If he could manage to get the rope around one of the branches, or the tree itself, then he had a backup plan if he lost his footing.
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