“Tasha, Jenny!” Horn shouted.
“Daddy!” the girls yelled simultaneously. For a moment they stood there, as if they weren’t sure what to do.
Horn held out his arms and dropped to both knees. His girls came running toward him then, and he scooped them up and kissed them each on the cheek in turn. He cried with joy as he pulled them closer.
Beckham gave them some space and walked over to Chow and Jinx.
“First happy ending I’ve seen in weeks,” Chow said.
Jinx laughed. “Man, I could use a happy ending.”
“Are you fucking kidding?” Chow said, slapping the back of his hand on Jinx’s shoulder.
“Cut it out,” Beckham said. “Do you know what Horn has been through, Jinx?”
“Look what you did now,” Chow said to Jinx as Beckham snorted and walked away.
“Reed!” both of the girls screamed as he approached.
“Hey, Tasha. Hey, Jenny!” Beckham said, his smile widening further. Horn set his daughters down and they ran to Beckham, nearly tackling him. “Have you two grown?”
Tasha, who was eight, shook her head.
“I have!” Jenny said enthusiastically.
Beckham agreed. She looked older than five now. It had only been a few weeks since he’d seen them, but the gray soot covering their faces made them both look older. “You’re going to be as tall as your dad soon,” Beckham said, taking a knee in front of them. He reached inside his vest pocket and pulled out a surprise he’d been holding onto since they left Plum Island. “Got you something.”
Both girls grinned. They knew what was coming. He always gave them Hershey’s Milk Chocolate Bars. He pulled it from a bag and looked up at Horn for his approval. He nodded, and Beckham handed over the wrapped bar.
“Thanks!” the girls said.
Beckham stood and patted the girls on their heads. He found Horn’s eyes. They were brittle. He hadn’t had time to grieve at all for Sheila. The time for that would come soon, but first they had to get the girls back to Plum Island.
Focusing on the narrow hallway, Beckham realized it was going to be more difficult than he thought. There were at least fifty survivors. Some needed medical attention, and there were multiple children that would slow the group down. That meant three Black Hawks and a support crew. Jensen wasn’t going to be happy, but Beckham knew exactly how to sell the mission. Jensen needed boots for Operation Liberty. Looking around him, Beckham saw something even better—two more Delta Operators and a handful of well-equipped Army Rangers.
“Chow, get over here,” Beckham said.
“Whatch’a need?” the man asked. He placed his pack on the ground and stood as tall as he could manage. Strands of jet-black hair glistened on his forehead. The trim Chinese-American operator was one of the most decorated Beckham had ever worked with. His experience and his skill in countless martial arts made Chow one of the best.
“You guys got a working radio? I can’t get a signal down here,” Beckham said.
Chow nodded. “Yeah, this way.”
Beckham smiled at the girls and patted Horn on the back one more time. Then he followed Chow through the crowd of survivors. Men and women of all ages stared at him, their eyes pleading for reassurance and hope. He focused on a young man with auburn hair lying on the ground. Two metal blades jutted out from under a filthy blanket in place of his lower legs. He was probably a veteran of the war in Iraq or Afghanistan. The irony wasn’t lost on him the soldier was now hiding in a tunnel in a much different type of war. The sight sent a chill down Beckham’s own legs. He stopped and waited for the man to look up. When their eyes met, Beckham gave the man a nod of recognition.
A smile streaked across the soldier’s dirt-stained face. He instantly sat up and returned the gesture. “Good to have you here.”
“Good to be here,” Beckham replied. “Sit tight. We’re going to move soon.”
The man nodded and tossed the blanket aside. Putting his palms to the ground, he pushed himself to his feet as Beckham pushed on. At the end of the hallway, another Ranger stood guard over a makeshift desk. Radio equipment and ammunition sprawled across the surface. Chow nodded at the man and then pulled a chair up to the table.
Plucking a piece of paper from his vest pocket, Beckham handed it to Chow. “That’s the encrypted channel for Plum Island.”
“Hold up,” Chow said. He fidgeted with the dial, white noise crackling from the speakers. “Think I got it.” He handed the receiver to Beckham.
“Plum Island, this is Delta Team Ghost, do you copy? Over.” Static surged through the narrow hallway, catching the attention of several children and a nurse handing them packets of food.
A female voice said, “Ghost. Echo 1, Lieutenant Hickman at Plum Island. Good to hear your voice.”
Beckham exhaled and brought the receiver back to his lips. “You’re telling me,” he said. “Echo 1, requesting extraction at the following coordinates.”
Chow handed him the GPS location that he’d scribbled on a piece of paper. “That’s the location we saved your ass,” he said.
Beckham read the numbers off. “We need three Black Hawks and medical support. Evac zone could be hot. Extraction team should come locked and loaded.”
“Copy that,” Lieutenant Hickman replied. “Will relay info to Command. Stand by.”
A few minutes later a stern voice came online. “Ghost. Lieutenant Colonel Jensen. That’s a hell of a lot of choppers.”
Beckham glanced at Chow and then said, “Sir, we have located a team of Delta Operators and Army Rangers. They would be a valuable addition to Operation Liberty. Horn’s daughters are alive, too.” He let the receiver down, still holding Chow’s gaze.
A moment of silence passed as Jensen considered the request. The lieutenant colonel would be analyzing the situation, considering all of the variables, including the wounded. Three choppers were a lot to risk.
“Copy that, Ghost. Extraction at 0700 hours. You get those civilians out of there safely. You hear me?”
“Thank you, sir,” Beckham said, breaking radio protocol again. He checked his wristwatch. That gave them ten hours to prepare the survivors and get to the evacuation location.
“Beckham,” Jensen said. “There’s something else. Dr. Lovato had a message for you about the Variants. She said they’re evolving.”
“Copy that, Sir,” Beckham replied.
The channel cut to white noise, and Beckham handed the receiver back to Chow.
“What the fuck does that mean? Evolving?” Chow asked.
Beckham thought back to the female Variant in NYC. He could picture the beard of blood on her face like she was standing right in front of him. The image of her pointing to their rooftop location gave him the chills. She’d shown a type of intelligence the other creatures hadn’t.
“You seen those things act differently at all in the past few days?” Beckham asked.
“Nah. They seem like basic predators to me. Hunt in packs and attack like kamikazes.”
Beckham scratched his chin. “Tell the rest of the men to be on alert. I don’t want any surprises.”
Chow flashed a thumbs-up and said, “Glad you made it, man.”
“Me too, brother.”
Chow tossed him an M4. “I sure hope you have a good plan to get these people out of here.”
Beckham caught the weapon. “I do,” he said, examining the gun. “I just hope we have enough bullets.”
“You authorized what?” Smith shook his head in amazement. “With all due respect, you do this for them and every soldier on this post will request the same for their family.”
“You don’t think I know that?” Jensen exhaled and spoke calmly. “Beckham and Horn and anyone they can find with their level of training…those men are invaluable. We need them.”
“I understand. But the other survivors are going to take up space, precious resources like food and water. Not to mention medicine. And there’s still the risk of infection.”
/> Jensen considered the major’s words. He was right. Everything he said made sense. The other soldiers on post would want the same treatment for their families. He’d already received two dozen requests for missions into the cities to look for survivors. Requests he’d denied. Now he was bringing fifty men and women from Fort Bragg to the island. Even if he did it in the cover of darkness, he would need to find a place to house them.
“I need a plan,” Jensen said.
Smith nodded. “Yes, Sir, you do.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Jensen walked to the window in the CIC and stared out over the ocean. It was the only place he felt comfortable. The last place on earth he felt a sense of peace. The purple waves crashed against the shoreline under the moonlight. The view was soothing, an escape from the responsibility he felt to those under his command. But it also served as a reminder of the horrors outside the safety of the island. Everyone stationed here had essentially won the lottery. It was one of the most secure locations left on the planet.
“That’s it,” he said suddenly.
The major raised his brows as he took a sip of steaming coffee. “What’s it?”
“A lottery.” Jensen hesitated for a second to reflect; then he brightened at the idea and turned to his second. “What if we hold a lottery? Any person on this post can enter if they have family within the range of one of the birds. We’ll select a random winner each week.”
Smith stared at him like he was crazy. “Where are we going to house these survivors? What if people don’t volunteer to go? Are these going to be single-man missions?”
Jensen sighed. He wasn’t thinking. Fuck, he wasn’t thinking at all.
“I don’t think you want to have riots on your hands,” Smith added. “In time we are going to have more problems to deal with. Supplies won’t last forever. The military and what’s left of the government may not be able to resupply us. We need to hunker down for the long haul.”
“The most important resources aren’t the supplies. They’re people, Major.” Jensen turned back to the window. “We can always find more supplies.”
“I hate to bring this up, but what if soldiers ask to leave the post? When their enlistment is up?”
“This isn’t a prison,” Jensen replied quickly. “They are free to go when their service is complete.”
Smith snorted his response. “I figured you would say that. But if we keep this post secure and safe, then we won’t have to worry about riots or soldiers asking to leave.”
Jensen had considered this before, in the hours of the night he couldn’t sleep. Smith was right. The best way to keep the island safe was to keep those on it happy.
“Besides, even if we hold a lottery, we have to admit the truth. Most people on this post lost their families weeks ago. There may not be anyone to rescue,” Smith said.
The ugly truth was difficult for Jensen to stomach, but he had accepted the fact his family was likely dead. And most of the other men and women on the post would have done the same. Smith was right; a lottery would be a waste of resources.
A welcome knock on the door reminded Jensen that he’d requested Kate’s and Ellis’s presence. She would be pleased to know that Beckham was safe.
“Come in,” Jensen said. He met the doctors in the center of the room, gesturing for them to take seats at the messy metal table. “I have good news for you, Dr. Lovato. Master Sergeant Beckham has linked up with a group of approximately fifty survivors at Fort Bragg. And they’ve located Staff Sergeant Horn’s daughters.”
Kate covered her mouth with her hand.
“That’s great!” Ellis said.
“When are they flying back?” Kate asked.
“Evac’s at 0700 hours,” Jensen replied.
Kate smiled. “Thank you.”
Jensen nodded. “Least I can do for him.” His tone hardened with his eyes as he took a seat next to Smith, who sat at the computer. “The reason I called you here is because I wanted your opinion on something. Major Smith, please bring up the data we have on New York.”
The monitor filled with a map of the city. Kate and Ellis scooted closer as Jensen eyed the clusters of red. They looked like they had grown, as if the Variants were continuing to gather.
“Zoom in on Manhattan,” Jensen said.
Smith punched several keys and the map shrank. Several red blocks emerged within the confines of Manhattan.
“What are we looking at?” Ellis asked.
“That is the most recent data we have from Central Command on Variant populations. This specific cluster is in Manhattan, very close to Times Square. A squad of reconnaissance Marines in the area put their numbers at around a thousand strong.”
“That’s it?” Kate asked, pulling her chair even closer to the table. “Can you show us a history of their movement?”
“Absolutely,” Smith replied. His fingers dashed across the keyboard. “This was five days ago.”
The map now showed small red dots all over Manhattan, much like the early maps of the Hemorrhage Virus. Smith punched a button and the time lapse started. The specks slowly moved to a central location until they formed one solid lump.
Kate brought a finger to her chin. “So the Variants have been on the move for days?”
“Yes, Doctor,” Smith said.
“And you’re wondering why they’re gathering in a central location?”
“I have a theory,” Jensen said. “I think they’re grouping together to hunt. It’s the typical hunter-gatherer behavior of our primitive ancestors. They’re grouping around resources.”
“Your theory isn’t much different than what I was thinking,” Kate said. “The VX-99 chemicals turned on genes that harken back long before any indigenous cultures were present in North America, though. Their behavior likely mirrors that of predatory animals like hyenas or lions. They hunt in groups and gather around natural resources.”
Jensen ran a finger across his chin and looked toward the ceiling. “But that doesn’t explain everything.”
An awkward moment of silence passed over the room, the tick of an unseen clock the only sound.
“As you can see, the clusters are showing up in multiple sections of the city. Command has put their numbers in the tens of thousands in these areas,” Jensen said.
“Tens of thousands?” Kate stared intensely at the monitor. “I don’t get it. Where are the rest of them?”
“That’s why I brought you here. To ask you that exact question.”
“There should be tens of thousands more,” Kate said before pausing. “No. There should be millions more.”
“These maps are accurate,” Smith said. “Satellite imagery and recon Marines don’t lie.”
Kate shook her head. “If approximately eighty percent of the population in New York was infected with the Hemorrhage Virus, that means there were over sixteen million cases before VariantX9H9 was launched. And if ten percent of those infected survived the virus and transformed into Variants, then that puts their numbers between one and two million. Even if this map focuses just on Manhattan, there’s simply no way there could be that kind of discrepancy.”
Smith chuckled nervously. “Maybe the Variants all ran away.”
“More like vanished,” Kate said, narrowing her eyes at the screen. “So the real question is what happened to all of them.”
Jensen crawled with anxiety. There was absolutely no rational explanation for the numbers being so far off. Either the doctor was wrong or Central Command was planning an offensive with faulty intel.
“Lieutenants,” Jensen said, craning his neck toward the communication officers at the opposite end of the room. They both took a break from listening to the endless sea of radio chatter and waited for orders. “Get someone from Central on the horn ASAP.”
Troop movements, armor, and air strikes were being planned around maps that potentially showed a fraction of the true Variant strength. They had to warn Command to delay Operation Liberty before it was too late.
> Beckham couldn’t stop thinking about Kate’s message. “Evolving,” he muttered a bit too loud.
“What’s evolving?” Horn asked, packing his gear bag while Tasha and Jenny sat a few feet away.
Beckham glanced over at the girls. They were oblivious to the conversation, playing with a doll Tasha managed to bring with her.
“The Variants,” Beckham whispered. “Kate said they’re evolving but didn’t specify into what, or how.”
“What’s a Variant, Daddy?” Jenny asked. “Is that one of the monsters?”
Beckham sighed. He was going to let Horn explain this one.
“Is that what killed Mommy?” Tasha asked.
Horn’s face turned crimson. Beckham’s heart ached for him. He wanted to help his friend, but he didn’t know what to say.
The man kneeled in front of his girls. Tears welled in his eyes. “Your mom was a very sick woman. She’s with Grandma and Grandpa now.”
“But I want her to be here with us,” Tasha whimpered.
Jenny jammed her head against Horn’s flak jacket.
He reached for Tasha and pulled her close. “I know. I know; I do too. But we have to be strong. We have to be strong so we can get to Plum Island with Reed.”
Jenny peeked from under her dad’s arm. Beckham forced a smile, but the ache dug deeper when he saw the true pain in her face. He thought of his own mom and traced a finger over his vest pocket; he knew exactly how the girl felt.
Beckham took two steps forward until he was within arm’s distance from Horn and his girls. He’d suppressed memories of his mom his entire life. But seeing Tasha, Jenny and Horn dealing with Sheila’s loss brought them all surging back.
He put a hand on Horn’s shoulder simply to let him know he was there. The four of them remained in the center of the damp hallway for several minutes, letting everything out. Tears found their way down Beckham’s face. Three of the most important people in the world were right next to him. He was going to do anything to protect them.
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