Extinction Edge (The Extinction Cycle Book 2)

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  But when she should have landed, she continued to fall.

  Meg let a scream fly.

  She dropped her axe and reached for something to hold onto. Her gloved hands dragged along concrete, slowing her only slightly as she fell into darkness.

  The drop took only seconds, but by the time she landed in a stream of sewage water, she was certain she’d fallen off the edge of the earth. The impact sucked the air right out of her lungs, and she bit her tongue as her legs hit the bottom.

  Meg coughed uncontrollably. She thrashed through the muck, reaching for something, anything to hold onto. Her fingers finally found a ledge. She held on and glanced up through the manhole she’d dropped through. If it hadn’t been for the water, the fall would have broken both her legs. Gasping, she pulled herself onto the concrete, wiggling her chest over solid ground and stretching her arms out. Meg lay there, half of her body over the ledge, the other half still submerged in the sewage. Stunned, she rested her helmeted head on the floor and tried to catch her breath.

  A moment passed. There was no sign of Jed or Rex. No sounds. No shouts.

  Nothing.

  Had they seen her fall? Would they leave her down here?

  She knew Rex wouldn’t think twice about it if it meant saving his own skin, but Jed she trusted.

  When Meg looked up, the manhole filled with light. The cloud cover broke, and she could see the buildings above. But where were Jed and Rex?

  She considered calling out for help but shoved the idea away when she saw the dark tunnel behind her. The sight provoked a spike of fear and she quickly pushed herself onto the ledge, sliding her stomach across the concrete. The pain from the sudden movement made her wonder if she’d broken something after all.

  “Shit,” she muttered. “Just what I needed.” The words were lost in the sound of splashing water. Meg’s head shot up. She scanned the tunnel to the right and then to the left. There was no sign of movement in the inky darkness.

  “Guys!” she finally yelled. “I’m down here. I’m hurt! I need help!”

  No answer. She saw a skeletal ladder extending up the narrow passageway to the street. The bottom steps hung four feet over the water. With no small amount of effort, she repositioned her body so she was facing the channel. Using the rays of sunlight to guide her, she swatted at the closest rung, but her fingers slipped and she fell back to the platform, nearly stumbling over the edge.

  The faintest of scuffling sounds came from the right. She wiped the visor clear of grime and squinted into the darkness.

  There was another splash.

  Closer.

  Meg didn’t dare move.

  A shape emerged.

  No.

  An apparition. Wading through the sludge.

  Were her eyes playing tricks on her?

  Petrified, she stayed in a crouched position and watched. A moment later a second and then a third shape appeared in the tunnel. Both of them trailing the leader.

  Meg’s muscles screamed as she made another grab for the ladder. Her fingers brushed the metal and she fell to the edge.

  The slurp of splashing water pulled her gaze back to the darkness. The shapes were approaching the barrier that separated the light from the darkness. Out of reflex, Meg swept her hands across the ground for a weapon—a rock, her axe, anything that would protect her.

  Meg looked back at the approaching creatures. The white, glistening flesh of the closest emerged. Illuminated only by a single ray of light, it lifted its head and sniffed the air, cracking its neck from side to side as it searched. The creature blinked, vertical slits locking onto her, smoldering with hunger. A swollen tongue shot out of its bulging lips and flickered back and forth.

  Out of desperation, Meg flailed for the ladder again. This time her fingers found the bottom rung, and she used every ounce of strength to pull herself to her feet, leaning against the ladder. Tears from the burning pain welled up in her eyes as she started climbing.

  A deep howl reverberated through the tunnel. Meg let out a cry of her own and threw a glance over her shoulder. More movement filled her rectangular view of the world. Waves rippled across the water.

  Another shriek answered the first as more of the monsters climbed onto the platforms that lined both sides of the canal. They scuffled and skittered across the surface, fighting to be first in line for their feast.

  Meg reached for the next rung. Then she saw the original creature point in her direction. In the blink of an eye the monsters charged.

  “Help!” Meg screamed.

  She was moving faster now, forcing herself to move through the pain. She was halfway up the ladder when something caught her foot. The grip was powerful, dragging her down so hard that she almost lost her hold, the pain so intense her vision was fading in and out.

  “Help!” she screamed again.

  Tilting her visor toward the sky, she saw two helmets staring down at her. Another hand gripped her other leg. Claws sank into her flesh.

  “Rex! Jed! Please, help…” Meg’s fingers slipped and then she was falling. She landed in the water with a splash. The sharp claws quickly found her, tearing from all directions. Thrashing, she burst through the surface. Framed in the circle of light high above, she saw Rex and Jed staring down at her.

  Instead of reaching down, they drew away. Their white helmets vanished, leaving behind a view of the perfect, cloudless sky.

  “I’m sorry!” came a voice.

  “No! Come back!” Meg cried in horror.

  The last thing she saw was the manhole cover sliding back into place, sealing her into a watery tomb as the monsters dragged her under.

  -11-

  Heavy footsteps, unlike the padded shoes the nurses wore, woke Beckham the next morning. Someone in uniform was coming to visit him.

  He sat up and brushed the hair from his eyes. It was getting long now, long enough that he would have caught shit if his CO was still around to yell at him.

  Kate slept curled up in a chair next to his bed. She had said she was only going to stay a few minutes, that she had work to do, but she’d slept through the night. He reached over to rouse her as the footfalls stopped outside the door.

  Kate stirred and her eyes flickered open. “Crap. What time is it?” She looked for a clock and yawned, stretching. Then she slumped back in her chair. “Great. Wasted hours I won’t get back.” She rubbed her eyes and gave him a quick look. “How do you feel?”

  “I’m good,” Beckham lied. His ribs were still tender, but the swelling was down. His injuries were mostly superficial, nothing serious. If it weren’t for the doctor’s orders for bed rest, he would have already been back in the barracks.

  Someone knocked on the door. He heard muffled voices on the other side, familiar but hard to place.

  “It’s open,” Beckham said. He shifted in his bed, stiffening the best he could.

  Lieutenant Colonel Jensen and Major Smith strolled into the room. They removed their berets and tucked them under their arms.

  “Dr. Lovato,” Jensen said, offering a smile.

  “Good morning,” she replied.

  Jensen examined Beckham. “Looks like you had one hell of a trip.”

  “Oh, this.” Beckham ran a hand over his body. “I’ve been beat up way worse.”

  Jensen didn’t laugh. “I wish I was here with good news, but I’m not.”

  Beckham sat up further when he saw the stern look on the lieutenant colonel’s face.

  “As you know, the countdown to Operation Liberty continues. We’re twenty-eight hours out. I’m still hoping you are able to lead a team—”

  “Are you crazy?” Kate said. She stood and positioned herself directly in front of the bed.

  “Kate, please, sit down. I’m fine,” Beckham assured her.

  She stood her ground.

  “Really, Kate. It’s okay,” Beckham said.

  Kate glanced back at Beckham for a moment and then uncrossed her arms.

  Jensen waited for her to sit and
then continued. “Before we discuss your condition, I need to know if there’s anything you can tell me about the Variants.”

  The pain of Beckham’s injuries flared as flashbacks to the creature that had put him in the hospital swooped into his thoughts. Shaking his head, he turned to the window to watch the play of sunlight on the distant waves. The crimson rays seemed divine, captivating in a way. It was still hard to believe that the world was gone.

  “I’m not sure how to explain it, Sir,” Beckham said. He turned to the lieutenant colonel. “The Variants are unpredictable. When we got to Bragg, they were suicidal. But as we were leaving, we encountered some sort of a leader, a man that seemed to be in control of the pack. I saw something similar in New York, but this was different. This was a coordinated attack. They flanked us.”

  Major Smith swore under his breath.

  Jensen scratched his mustache. “What else did you see?”

  “Smoke seems to screw with their senses. Besides that, not much. You already know it’s hard to take them down. Headshots seem to do the trick, but I saw one of ‘em that had about a dozen holes in it. Still kept coming.”

  “Holy shit,” Smith said.

  “Anything else?” Jensen asked.

  “No, Sir,” Beckham replied.

  “All right,” Jensen said. “The doctors said you’re good to go. I’m going to hold a briefing with the other team leads in two hours at the CIC.”

  “I’ll be there,” Beckham said. He refrained from looking at Kate, but he heard her scoff in annoyance.

  “You aren’t seriously considering—”

  An enthusiastic voice in the doorway cut her off. “Guys!”

  Beckham couldn’t help but smile as Riley guided his wheelchair through the door.

  “Hey, Boss. You look like shit, too!” He laughed and then grunted as the chair caught against the doorjamb. “Dammit, I hate this thing,” he said, fighting with the wheels to make it into the room. Kate walked over to help him.

  “The stupid nurse said I couldn’t see you earlier,” Riley said. He wheeled himself over to Beckham’s bed.

  “Since when did you listen to women?” Beckham asked.

  “She’s cute and I was trying to be on my best behavior,” Riley said. “Not many girls to pick from at the end of the world, you know.”

  Beckham shook his head and changed the subject. “How are you feeling?”

  Riley shrugged. “Doctor said I won’t be back on my feet for a while.” He chuckled. “But at least I don’t look like you.”

  “You should have seen the guy that did this to me. He was bigger than Horn.”

  The room grew silent at the mention of their friend. Kate put a hand on Beckham’s shoulder. Riley bowed his head.

  “I heard about Horn’s wife. But you guys were able to rescue his girls. That’s a miracle in itself. Tell you the truth, I figured everyone would be dead at Bragg,” Riley said.

  “There wasn’t much left.”

  Riley glanced up. “Jinx and Chow made it, though, right?”

  “They saved our asses.”

  “Small victories, I guess,” Riley said. “So what’s next?”

  “Operation Liberty,” Beckham said.

  Kate backpedaled from the bed. Her jaw tightened, her lips a solid line of disapproval as she retreated to the door. She was giving him the distance he needed, but it was clear she wasn’t happy about it.

  “Wish I could go with you,” Riley said.

  “Me too, kid. Me too.”

  A dense fog crawled across Plum Island. Beckham stood outside the medical facility with Kate by his side, watching the haze slowly consume the base. The horizon threatened yet another storm.

  Beckham acknowledged the two guards outside with a nod. Grabbing the handrails, he made his way cautiously down the steps and into the knee-deep mist. He squinted at three soldiers approaching in the distance. They walked at a brisk yet graceful pace, side by side, the muzzles of their rifles bobbing up and down over their shoulders. As they got closer, he saw the thin outline of their body armor and sculpted muscles that reflected constant training.

  “Who are they?” Kate asked.

  Beckham smiled. “My men.”

  Even in the fog, he knew the slender, defined frame of the man on the left belonged to Chow, and that the beefy man in the middle was Horn. The man on the right had to be Jinx.

  The three emerged from the gray and formed a line, shoulder to shoulder. Horn stepped out and saluted. “Sir.”

  Beckham wasn’t sure how to respond. The gesture was completely unexpected from Horn, not to mention unnecessary. Beckham recalled Riley’s laughter from earlier and figured a little humor might do them all some good. Snapping his heels together, he returned the salute then dropped his hand quickly.

  “All right, knock it off now,” Beckham said.

  Horn laughed and held out a fist. “Good to see you standing.”

  “Luck,” Beckham said, bumping his knuckles against Horn’s. “I think mine’s got to run out soon.”

  “Horn saved your sorry ass,” Jinx said.

  Beckham looked at the men in turn, remembering all of their fallen brothers; then he reached forward and wrapped his arms around Horn, patting his back before pulling away. “Thanks again, bro.” He leaned forward and put his forehead against his friend’s.

  “I always got your back,” Horn said gruffly.

  Chow snapped his fingers. “We better get moving. Briefing in a few.”

  The operators walked in silence through the fog. The CIC was packed by the time they arrived. Officers and enlisted huddled around the war table, staring at crinkled maps. Lieutenant Colonel Jensen stepped away from the observation window and made his way through the swollen crowd.

  “Let’s get started,” he said and paused, scanning the assembled men and women.

  He addressed a tall and slender Marine with the build of a marathoner. “Sergeant Peters, you’ve got Team Alpha.” The man nodded and made eye contact with his nearby team.

  The next Marine Jensen called looked more like a linebacker, with broad shoulders. “Sergeant Rodriguez, you’ve got Bravo.” He scrutinized the stern faces, as if looking for someone in particular. “Where’s Chipper?” Jensen asked.

  “Here, sir,” a short Army Ranger said. He pushed his way from the edge of the group.

  “You’ve got Team Charlie.”

  The man nodded and swept a hand over his bald head.

  Then Jensen’s eyes found Beckham. “Master Sergeant, you have Team Delta.”

  He turned to his second and said, “All right, everyone. Major Smith will provide a SITREP.”

  Smith bent over the table and flattened several maps. Grabbing a remote, he clicked on an overhead projector. An image of a map formed on the west wall. “This is New York City, all five boroughs.” Smith used a laser pen to identify the five main blots. “Recon teams and satellite imagery show these locations are where the Variants seem to be gathering.”

  “I’m going to be straight up with you,” interrupted Jensen. “We don’t believe those numbers are accurate. According to intel from Command, the Variants are grouped in the areas in red,” said Jensen.

  Smith nodded and pointed to one of the marked areas. “Reports estimate one to two thousand at each of these hotspots, and your mission is to help set up a forward operating base and then assist 1st Platoon in clearing the streets.”

  Jensen waited for the info to sink in. In a firm voice, he added, “I believe Command is wrong, and Dr. Lovato is going to tell you why.”

  Without hesitation, she moved up to the table. “Gentleman, as Lieutenant Colonel Jensen and Major Smith have already stated, these red blotches represent the known Variant populations. General Kennor believes those are the only Variants left. If that’s the case, then you won’t have much of a problem taking back New York. But I’m here to tell you that I think General Kennor is wrong.” Kate’s eyes scanned the group of soldiers, her gaze catching Beckham’s for a momen
t before she continued.

  He nodded, admiring the way she handled herself in a room full of military personnel.

  “And not by just a little,” Kate said. “I believe he’s wrong by a whole hell of a lot.”

  Kate pulled up a chair to the table’s monitor and plugged in a thumb drive. Keying in a few commands, she transferred the information to the projector and pointed to the wall. “As you can see, the clusters ballooned in these areas.

  “My projections show the Variant populations number somewhere between one and two million, not one to two thousand,” Kate continued. “A far cry from Command’s calculations.”

  Nervous chatter broke out all around them. Beckham tensed his muscles. How could Command be so far off? If Kate was right, then New York was lost. There was simply no way a company of Marines and strike teams could take back the city.

  Jensen raised a hand. “Everyone keep quiet. Let the doctor finish.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “I’m not sure exactly where the Variants have vanished to, but I do know that the creatures are changing, evolving. They are growing more intelligent. Some of them even seem to be dominant, leading packs and groups. They’re faster, stronger, and can heal quicker than anyone in this room. Even you, Master Sergeant Beckham,” Kate said with a half smile.

  The subsequent chuckles were short lived. The grim truth of Kate’s projections lingered on everyone’s mind. If true, the numbers were daunting. They were facing a battle that the military had no way of winning. Beckham discreetly sized up the men in front of him. Some of them had seen action, fighting insurgents in the War on Terror. But most of them had never gone up against a Variant. And this time they wouldn’t face just a couple hundred. There were millions. The idea was madness—even if the enemy was armed with only teeth and claws.

  “Thank you, Dr. Lovato,” Jensen said. “I’ve asked Command to delay this mission until we know where the Variants are hiding. They denied that request. In just over twenty-four hours, we are expected to provide four teams to help set up a forward operating base and remove any Variant threat from the area. Refusing to do so would amount to desertion, but frankly a court martial is the least of your worries. I’ve decided that I will take full responsibility for Plum Island’s actions. For that reason I’m making this a volunteer mission. I hope the leads will stay, but I can’t force you.”