Apollo barked fiercely, his fur trembling with rage.
“Come on, Apollo!” Fitz shouted.
His thighs were burning now, and when he looked down, he saw why. The bottom of his right blade was bent. It must have happened back in the underground, when the Bone Collector had tossed him like a ragdoll. Fitz ran for Bryant Park. He loped up the three levels of stairs and jumped over the trees draped across the walkway. The decayed bodies of the Variants killed by 1st Platoon were sprawled in all directions.
Glancing over his shoulder, Fitz saw the beasts were gaining. There was no way he and Apollo could outrun them. They had to hide and hope the monsters moved on. Otherwise they had to fight. But both options seemed impossible. He didn’t have enough ammunition to mount a stand. And even if he did, he wasn’t sure he could kill the beasts before they overwhelmed him. There was no calling for help, either. The wind rustling through his auburn hair reminded him he had lost his helmet, and with it his connection to the outside world.
Besides Apollo, Fitz was alone. The mission to extract a juvenile Variant seemed distant now, but it was still on his mind. He just had to figure out a way to get back to the lair. Even though he knew it was next to impossible to complete his mission, his brain still searched for a strategy that might salvage the operation.
He bounded up the stairs to the library entrance and leapt over the mangled body of a Variant that looked like a squished starfish. Apollo ran through the partially open central doors, but Fitz halted.
The monsters trailing them were almost to Bryant Park. Packs from connecting streets streamed into the long line of beasts, increasing their numbers to fifty or more. Without thinking, Fitz grabbed the splattered Variant corpse and dragged it into the building. Then he slammed the door with his back and lugged the corpse to the next level. Apollo sniffed ahead, his tail still up.
There was pounding on the first level as the creatures broke their way into the building. Fitz whistled at Apollo and jerked his chin toward a room halfway down the hall. It led into an open workroom with two sets of doors. He dropped the corpse as he entered the room, the putrid scent of decaying bodies filling his nose. There were half a dozen human bodies in here. Most of them torn to shreds.
He pulled his scarf above his nose and did a quick scan of the long room. Desks and bookshelves barricaded the second and third doors, but the shelves at the entrance Fitz had used were toppled. Survivors had tried to make a stand here.
Fitz quickly rebuilt the barricade, shoving the shelves into place and dragging chairs and tables over to reinforce them. The shrieks and raucous cries of the Variants tearing the first floor of the building apart fueled Fitz’s rapid movements.
When he finished, he gestured for Apollo and continued to a pair of corpses still dressed in the clothes they had died in. He unslung the rifle from his back and laid it next to the bodies. Then he dragged a third over, along with the squishy Variant corpse.
Apollo watched, tilting his head from side to side.
“You’re not going to like what I’m about to do, boy,” Fitz whispered. Holding his breath, he plucked a gooey hunk of flesh from the Variant’s stomach and smeared it over his face, fatigues and blades. Apollo backed away as Fitz raised a second hand of rotting flesh. He reached out, but the dog shook and shied away again.
A thump sounded down the hallway. The popping of joints and snarls from a pack of Variants grew closer. Fitz took a second to think. Even if he could get Apollo to obey, he wasn’t sure he could keep the dog quiet when the Variants found them.
“I’m sorry, boy,” Fitz whispered. He pulled his tranq pistol and pulled one of the darts out. Then he grabbed Apollo and said, “You’re just going to sleep for a little while.” He stuck the dog in the leg and pulled the dart out rapidly so he would only have a small dose of the sedatives.
Apollo let out a soft whimper and went limp in Fitz’s arms. He carried the dog to the stack of bodies against the wall and spread the guts over his fur. After applying a second coat of gore to both of them, Fitz lay down with Apollo and pulled the human corpses over top. The cotton scarf did little to block the awful scents, but Fitz had more to worry about than what the Variant had eaten before it died over a week ago.
Thud after thud echoed outside the door, followed by shattering glass and splintering wood. They were close now. The clatter sounded like they were inside a fucking kitchen, not a library.
Fitz was on his back under the bodies, holding Apollo with his right arm. The dog’s heart thumped against Fitz’s bicep. He looked up through the fort of rotting limbs at a ray of sunlight bleeding in from a window halfway up the wall. It was the only one with intact glass; the others were all broken from the firebombs of Operation Liberty.
Something darted past the window, climbing up the surface of the building. Other skeletal shapes skittered up the exterior of the library, the room falling into shadow as they passed the glass. In his mind’s eye, Fitz could see the beasts swarming over the burnt structure like an army of ants consuming a hunk of flesh. The scratching, snapping and shrieks came from all directions.
The door to their room rattled. A Variant smashed into the wood, breaking the hinges and knocking the shelves to the floor. A creature squeezed through the opening and leapt onto a desk in the center of the room. It perched there, sniffing and exploring the space with a single slitted eyeball. Fitz held in a breath and looked away.
Another Variant skittered across the window above, a claw grinding over the glass. Cracks webbed to all corners of the narrow window.
The beast in the room squawked and jumped to the floor. The impact made Fitz’s heart lodge in his throat. He let out a short breath as the sound echoed through the room, and then took in another breath as the Variant clambered over to the pile of bodies on all fours. The monster was so close that Fitz could see every detail of the purple, veiny lips, the needle-sharp teeth lining its maw, and the gaping socket where an eye had once been.
Stopping a foot away, Fitz caught a draft of its sour breath even over the rot. He fought the urge to gag, knowing the simple action could end his life. He closed his eyes and stilled his breathing. The monster inched closer, sniffing like a dog searching for a bone.
A crash came from down the hall, and a howl answered. Fitz opened his eyes as the creature jerked its head toward the door. It scampered away a second later. Shadows filled the room as Variants raced past the windows. Only this time they weren’t climbing; they were descending. Something was happening outside.
In the distance, Fitz thought he heard a shout. But the voice didn’t sound quite human. He waited a few seconds before pushing the bodies off.
Grabbing his M4, he walked over to the broken windows and carefully peered outside. He heard the creatures before he saw them. Hundreds of Variants scrambled over the burned-out wrecks of cars on West 42nd Street. Covered in ash, their once pale bodies made them look more like four-legged spiders. Fitz rubbed his tired eyes and squinted. The army was moving again, away from the library.
He pivoted to the side of the window when a human shout came from the street. Fitz raised his M4 and zoomed in on the mob. There, in the center of the Variants, was the remaining human collaborator. The man walked behind a body being dragged across the concrete by a hunched Variant. If it weren’t for the cape of flesh rippling in the wind and the bones on the beast’s body, Fitz wouldn’t have believed it. Hell, he still couldn’t believe it with the Bone Collector in plain sight. It pulled Knapp screaming down the street.
Fitz backed away from the window, heart hammering as he listened.
“I’ll show you!” Knapp screamed. “I’ll take you there!”
“You fucking piece of shit,” Fitz whispered. He aimed his rifle at Knapp, but the surrounding Variants blocked a solid shot. The injured Alpha halted and towered over Knapp, blood still streaming down its chest from where Fitz had shot it in the shoulder. Scabs were already forming around the entry hole.
Dropping to all fours over Kna
pp, the beast shrieked. The strained words were unintelligible at first. It struggled to speak again. “W-here? Where are others?”
Knapp trembled under the monster. “Plum Island. They’re at Plum Island!”
The other human collaborator stepped closer to the Alpha and Knapp.
“I know where that is. I’ve seen it,” the man said.
“There are doctors there who’re creating a weapon to kill you,” Knapp said.
The creature roared in the Marine’s face. Then it slithered off him and melted back into the army of Variants. The beasts were moving before Fitz could line up a shot. He searched the bodies for the collaborator. It was too late to silence Knapp, but if he killed the collaborator, maybe he could save Plum Island.
He ran from window to window for a shot, but the man was gone. Fitz flung the rifle over his back and hurried back to Apollo. He scooped up the dog and ran into the hallway, grimacing at the weight.
With no way to communicate with command, Fitz had two options: either beat them to Plum Island, or kill the collaborator before they left the city.
He sprinted along the hall and loped down the stairs leading back outside. Apollo struggled to crack an eyelid as soon as they were on the landing. Staring out over the ruined city, Fitz whispered, “Okay, boy, time to save our friends.”
The Blackhawks carrying Kate and fresh soldiers landed at Plum Island later that day. Ellis was waiting on the tarmac with Major Smith. Riley, Meg, and both of Horn’s girls were hanging back a few hundred feet at the concrete barriers.
Kate had endured the entire flight in silence, aching for news. She grabbed her pack, jumped out of the chopper, and hunched under the rotors with a hand shielding her face.
Smith and Ellis looked worse than normal. They had heard about Atlanta, but what about New York? Her gut tightened as she approached.
“Welcome back, Doctor Lovato,” Smith said, quietly. He avoided her gaze and continued to the other choppers to talk with the new troops.
Ellis grabbed her bag and they hurried over to the barriers, talking as they moved.
“What’s wrong?” Kate asked. “And don’t lie to me.”
Ellis glanced at her and then looked away. “New York was a failure. Same goes for every other strike team across the country. Not a single team made it back with a specimen, Kate.”
Kate froze where she stood. The wind from the rotors beat against her shirt as everything came crashing down. “F-Fitz?” She stuttered. “Apollo?”
Ellis shook his head. “No one made it, Kate. I’m sorry.” He put a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away and continued walking. She choked on the emotions swirling inside of her and took a second to steel herself. They had to finish Kryptonite, with or without a juvenile Variant to test it on. She felt her stomach twist at the thought of losing Fitz and Apollo, but after suffering so much loss, she was almost numb to more.
At the concrete barrier, Kate slowed long enough to say hi to Meg, Riley, and the girls. “Your dad sends his love,” Kate said. She bent down and hugged Tasha and Jenny. Their strong grips filled her with the strength she needed to continue working. They were resilient, and brave. Reminders of what Kate was fighting for.
“Is he coming back soon?” Tasha asked.
“Yes, he will be home very soon.” Kate waited for the pounding of boots to pass. Smith was leading the new soldiers away from the tarmac, pointing at the buildings in the distance.
“I’ll meet you at the armory,” Smith said to one of the men. He stopped and plucked his radio from his vest pocket. “Dr. Lovato, I have Beckham on the comm and he’s asking to talk to you.”
Kate grabbed the radio and stepped away from the others. “Reed, this is Kate.”
“Kate,” Beckham said. Even hearing a single word, she could hear the trepidation in his voice. He had likely heard the news.
“I’m here,” Kate said after a pause.
“Fitz and Apollo are...”
“I know,” Kate said. “I’m so sorry, Reed.”
“No, that’s not—” Beckham started to stay.
Static crackled from the radio like a heavy wind was blowing where Beckham was. There was a chopping sound too.
“Where are you?” Kate asked.
“I’m about to head to New York.”
Kate’s heart skipped.
“Fitz and Apollo are still alive, Kate. I saw it in a video feed, and I’m not leaving them out there to die.”
“Vice President Johnson and President Ringgold authorized a mission to rescue them?”
“Not exactly.”
Kate lowered the radio to think for a moment, then slowly brought it back to her lips. She knew there wasn’t anything she could say to change his mind. If he truly believed Fitz and Apollo were out there, then nothing she could do would stop him from trying to save them.
Instead of screaming her frustration and making Beckham feel even worse, she simply said. “Okay.” They both knew there was little chance of living to see their child grow up. She had accepted this, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
She brought the radio back to her lips. “Bring Fitz and Apollo home, Reed. And bring the rest of Team Ghost home too. Promise me. Promise us.”
“I promise, Kate.” There was a pause, and then, “I love you both. Tell Tasha and Jenny their Dad will see them soon.”
“Okay,” Kate said. A tear fell down her cheek.
She wiped it away, handed the radio back to Smith, and looked at Ellis. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“Wait, what the hell is going on?” Riley asked.
“Team Ghost is going back out there,” Kate replied.
“What?” Riley gasped. “Where?”
“New York. To save Fitz and Apollo. And to capture a juvenile Variant specimen, too, if I know Reed,” Kate said. She jerked her chin at Ellis. “And we’re going back to the lab. We have a weapon to finish.”
-22-
“Cuz, you know how much trouble we’ll be in when they find out we borrowed one of the very few remaining birds?” Tito, Tank’s cousin and a pilot on the GW, scratched the stubble on his chin. He was a large man with specks of gray in his hair. “Seriously, you know what you’re asking me to do?”
Tank raised a finger to his lips. “Keep it down, brother.”
Team Ghost and the Variant Hunters stood with their backs to the bulkhead behind the hatch leading out to the flight deck. They had retreated inside as a pair of Apaches took off outside to deal with some Variants spotted off the coast. Beckham waited anxiously, nervous that they would be spotted here decked out in full combat gear. He checked the ladder below every few seconds.
All they needed was a damn pilot to take them to New York, but Tank’s cousin didn’t seem like he wanted the job.
“Look, Tito,” said Garcia. “I get you don’t want to risk a court martial. But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. If we bring back a little Variant and our guys, then the CO can’t complain, right?”
Tito’s lips twisted into a scowl. “And if you don’t come back?”
“Then you can tell them we held a gun to your head.”
Tito craned his neck to see behind his lumbering cousin. He scanned the men individually, checking out their gear and their battle-ready features. Then he let out a long sigh. “Follow me.”
“Not so fast,” came a voice at the bottom of the ladder.
Beckham cursed when he saw Lieutenant Davis standing there. She hurried up the stairs and gave them all meaningful looks that said, You’re fucked.
“Lieutenant, we just want to go get our friends,” Beckham said.
“Save it, Master Sergeant,” Davis said, frustration cracking in her typically calm voice. She shook her head and pulled at her cuffs. “I’m in deep shit for the failure of the strike teams. Make no mistake, I’m sorry for your loss, but you can’t go back out there just to find one man and a dog.”
Beckham raised his hand to protest, but she cu
t him off.
“Not unless you agree to bring back a juvenile Variant too.”
Lowering his hands, Beckham narrowed his eyes at the lieutenant. She was a smart woman, much smarter than he gave her credit for. She had to have known Team Ghost and the Variant Hunters were planning something, and she had taken that opportunity to complete the mission she was in charge of.
“I just came from the CIC. Vice President Johnson and Captain Humphrey have no plans to authorize another mission, but I’m still in charge of Operation Condor, and it’s not over until we nab one of those little freaks. I’ll be in even deeper shit if they find out I authorized pilots to fly you off the GW, but if anyone can finish what we started, it’s y’all.”
Garcia smiled. “Not going to disagree with you there, LT.”
“Unfortunately, authorizing a flight is about all the help you’re going to get,” Davis said. “You won’t have air support or reinforcements. You will be going in blind. If you are compromised, no one is coming to save you.”
“Understood,” Beckham said. The other men all nodded, prepared to risk their lives to save their comrades and complete the mission.
Davis put her hands on her hips. “Alright. Tito, you and your co-pilot fire up that Osprey.”
Tito, still unsure, nodded slowly. “Roger that, Lieutenant.”
“Good luck,” Davis said. She eyed Beckham one last time, then turned and disappeared back down the ladder.
Two hours later, the teams were in the air and closing in on New York. Heavy rain beat the sides of the Osprey. It was dusk, but Beckham couldn’t see any sign of a sunset through the thick clouds outside the window. Lightning webbed the impenetrable darkness. They were only a few minutes from the city, and Beckham still couldn’t see shit.
Davis was right about Team Ghost and the Variant Hunters going in blind, but they were also going in with as much ammunition as they could carry, plus veins pumping full of adrenaline—that, and more experience fighting the Variants than any soldiers left in North America.
Extinction Evolution (The Extinction Cycle Book 4) Page 27