“You can tell them that yourself,” Fitz said. “You’re going to be fine.”
Fitz looked sweet when he lied. It was the same way Riley had looked when he told her it was going to be okay.
Meg’s heart rate amplified, the noise from the EKG machine filling the room. Her body was shutting down, but she felt no fear. She wasn’t scared anymore.
Fitz massaged her hand with his thumb. His features hardened from the guilt he had lived with since she met him.
“Don’t let it win, Fitz. You’re a good man. The best, just like Riley. You didn’t fail us. You saved us with your friendship and kindness.”
A nurse reached down with a needle toward Meg’s left arm. The pain was slowly washing back over her, the drugs wearing off. But Meg still had a little fight left in her. She grabbed the nurse’s hand.
“No more drugs,” Meg mumbled.
The doctor and nurse exchanged a conflicted look. He nodded and the woman slowly withdrew the needle. Meg turned back to Fitz. His eyes had softened again, and a tear streaked down his filthy cheeks.
“Please, Meg,” he said. “Don’t give up. Please don’t leave us.”
“I’m tired, Fitz. And I miss Tim. I miss my friends. I miss Riley.”
Meg felt her own tears falling down her face.
Fitz blinked long and hard. His dry lips opened and he leaned down next to her face with her hand still in his. Trembling, he struggled to stay up on his crutch as he kissed her on the forehead.
Meg could feel his lips on her skin. The warmth reassured her that everything really would be okay. She really could rest now.
A smile touched the side of her mouth. “Tell Beckham and Kate….”
A sharp jolt ripped through her chest. She gasped for breath, the room slipping away as whiteness filled her vision.
“Meg!” Fitz shouted.
“We’re losing her again!” yelled another voice.
Meg blinked rapidly and squeezed Fitz’s hand.
Meg sat on the steps of Building 1 on Plum Island, watching Fitz and Riley train the troops heading to New York. Tasha and Jenny were curled up against her sides, both of them sleeping peacefully. She held them tight against her body. The warm ocean breeze rustled through her hair.
Riley and Fitz both turned and waved after they had finished the training. She smiled, not daring raise a hand from Tasha and Jenny’s still bodies. Riley smiled back, clearly excited about his new mission. He wheeled over to the stairs with that shit-eating grin of his. It was the happiest she had seen him in a while. Butterflies sent both warmth and chills through her. The sensation reminded her how much she had learned at the end of the world. Things she never thought she would experience.
She had learned what it felt like to take care of children. She had met some of the strongest and most brilliant men and women on the planet—Beckham and Horn to Kate and Ellis. Even more important, she had learned to love again. She’d never expected to find it at the end of the world, but she guessed it was as likely a place as any.
The memory of Plum Island slipped away as her heart finally gave out. But her final thoughts were not plagued with fear or regret. They were happy, hopeful. Beckham, Kate, and Fitz could save the world without her. She knew they would.
The last thing she heard was Fitz’s voice asking her to save a seat for him up there, and to tell Riley and his family hello.
“Tell them I’ll never stop fighting,” he said.
Meg smiled weakly, and then she was gone.
Fitz limped to the CIC with a broken blade and a broken heart. Meg had died right in front of him, but before she passed, she had given him the most precious gift of all—she had lifted the heavy burden he’d been carrying on his shoulders ever since Iraq.
He had killed countless times, and before this war was over, he would kill many more times to protect his friends. At least now, he would do so without the raw guilt that had been eating him alive.
For an hour, Fitz strolled through passages of the GW aimlessly, lost in his thoughts and hardly aware of the stares he was drawing. It wasn’t surprising, considering he was covered in blood and hopping on one blade. The clanking echoed through the interior of the ship. He didn’t bother looking for the rest of Team Ghost or the Variant Hunters. Everyone would be dealing with the fallout of New York in their own way. Most of them would probably be trying to rest in their quarters.
But he hadn’t even been assigned a bunk yet. He had nowhere to go, so he continued to wander through the passages until a voice called his name.
“Fitz, where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Lieutenant Davis came rushing toward him.
“I was in….” Fitz grimaced at the thought of seeing Meg take her final breaths. “I was with my friend.”
“How is she?”
Fitz bowed his head.
“I’m sorry, Fitz,” Davis said. She put a hand on his shoulder. “But we can’t mourn for her or anyone else right now. We have a mission to plan. And I need you. Follow me.”
The thought of another mission distracted him momentarily. Davis was right. There was no time to slow down now. They had to push on despite the losses. Those who had died would have wanted that.
Meg had wanted that.
Davis stopped around the next bulkhead and knocked on a hatch. “Master Sergeant, Dr. Lovato. Are you awake?”
Fitz stepped out of view as they waited. The hatch creaked open a few seconds later and a groggy Beckham looked out, his hair mussed and face pale. Kate stood behind him, rubbing at her eyes. In the back of the room Fitz thought he saw Apollo’s tail thumping.
“You going to let us out of here so we can see Meg now?” Beckham asked. “We’re fine. Anthony’s team cleared us.”
Davis locked her jaw.
“LT?” Beckham said. He stepped into the passage barefoot and noticed Fitz.
“Holy shit,” Beckham said. He wrapped his arms around the Marine, embracing him in a strong hug. “Goddamn it’s good to see you, brother.”
“You too,” Fitz replied softly.
Beckham pulled away. “What’s wrong?”
Fitz shook his head, choking on his words. “She didn’t make it.”
Kate gasped and cupped her hands over her mouth.
“Fuck,” Beckham muttered. Guilt filled his eyes, the same guilt Fitz had felt.
“It was peaceful,” Fitz said. “I was there for the end.”
Beckham glared at Davis. Fitz didn’t blame him. She hadn’t let Beckham or Kate close to the infirmary after their exposure to the juvenile Variant. They hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye.
Beckham pulled Kate close. “I’m sorry, brother.”
“Me, too,” Fitz said. He felt the urge to apologize further, but doing so would have disrespected Meg’s final wishes.
Kate put her head on Beckham’s shoulder, whimpering.
“I’m sorry for your loss, truly I am,” Davis said. “But President Ringgold and Vice President Johnson have requested your presence in the CIC.”
“Right now?” Kate asked.
“Yes, Doctor.”
Kate slowly slipped back into the dark room, and Beckham shut the hatch behind them. When he opened it again, they were both fully dressed. Kate was pulling her hair into a ponytail, but she looked dazed.
Apollo poked his head out from between Beckham’s legs and wagged his tail when he saw Fitz.
“Hey, buddy,” Fitz said. He balanced on his crutch to bend down and pet the dog.
“You have to stay here, Apollo,” Beckham said.
The shepherd whined, but retreated into the room and sat. Fitz smiled at the dog, remembering everything they had been through.
“Let’s go,” Davis said. She led them through the passage at a hurried pace, stopping only to collect Ellis and Horn. By the time the six of them arrived at the CIC, over eight hours had passed since Fitz had left New York. It was mid-afternoon, and rays of sunlight gleamed outside th
e portholes.
They were directed into a conference room already packed with bodies. Chatter about death tolls and Kryptonite filled the space. President Ringgold stood at the front of the table and held up her good hand. Hushed voices dwindled into whispers, then silence. Everyone was staring at Fitz, their eyes taking in his blood stained clothes and broken blade.
Davis gestured toward the back of the room. Fitz squeezed behind several officers in neatly pressed uniforms. He followed Beckham and Horn into the back corner where Garcia was already camped out. Ellis and Kate joined Davis at the other end of the table.
“Thank you all for coming,” Ringgold said. “I’m happy to report that I have good news. The other three facilities working on Kryptonite have finished their batches, and ours should be complete within a few hours. When it’s done, we will immediately prepare them so they can be loaded into missiles. Vice President Johnson has been busy coordinating a mission to launch the weapon. Tomorrow evening, at dusk, a team from the GW will meet the other three teams at the Earthfall facility in Colorado. The strike teams will enter and secure the building. They will then load the missiles and launch them over the United States.”
Fitz attempted to stiffen his back, hoping he was here because he was going on that mission. Being part of something so big was beyond anything he could have ever imagined.
“Once the missiles are airborne, recon teams in the field will monitor the effects of Kryptonite on the adult Variants,” Johnson added. “We expect the weapon to kill most of the adults within a period of twenty-four to forty-eight hours. During that time, I’ll be working with remaining military assets across the US to launch a coordinated offensive in several strategic cities that will target the offspring. After learning of their venom, it’s been decided we must destroy them before it’s too late. Assuming everything goes according to plan and we eradicate the majority of the adult population, in five days we will launch the final stage of Operation Extinction. The Marine Corps Recruit Depot at Parris Island will be the staging ground for this offensive. It’s one of our final remaining bases and has been fortified by engineers familiar with the Variants.”
Several voices rose over Johnson’s, but his glare cut them off. Fitz grimaced as he continued working on straightening his sore back. His entire body hurt, and a gash on his forearm was bleeding freely. He wiped it on his pants, smearing his blood over Meg’s.
Johnson continued, “Lieutenant Davis will be leading the strike team to Colorado. Sergeant Garcia and Corporal Fitzpatrick will be joining her. Team Ghost will remain behind to help plan the final mission.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Fitz scrutinized the Delta Force Operators. Horn rubbed at one of his biceps, but Beckham didn’t so much as flinch. A few feet over, Garcia had his arms folded across his chest. Rolled up sleeves exposed a second cross, still glistening with fresh ink that read Rick Thomas.
Davis stepped up to the table, and Fitz returned his attention to the officers. She opened a folder and glanced down.
“Good afternoon, everyone. As the Vice President already noted, we will be staging most of our operations out of the Marines Corps Recruit Depot at Parris Island. I’ve been in contact with General Willis there, and he’s guaranteed the safety of our troops.”
Fitz saw several skeptical brows raised across the room. He didn’t blame them. The Variants had managed to infiltrate and destroy nearly every military stronghold throughout the country.
Davis didn’t seem to be fazed by her skeptics. “We have approximately ten thousand remaining soldiers in fighting condition. We’re dividing them up to invade five cities strategically selected by our best intel officers. Reports indicate there are smaller populations of juvenile Variants in San Diego, Des Moines, and Portland. Atlanta and Washington D.C. have higher numbers, but are both high level targets due to their importance in rebuilding society and reestablishing our federal government in the—”
“How much higher?” Lieutenant Colonel Kramer interrupted. “I want to hear numbers.”
Davis glanced down at her folder. “Our troops in San Diego, Des Moines, and Portland will face even odds against the juveniles, and with mechanized units, air support, and Special Forces, I’m confident we will prevail without—”
Kramer interrupted Davis a second time. “Lieutenant, you’re not answering my question. What about D.C. and Atlanta?”
Johnson glared at Kramer. He wasn’t the only one. Ringgold was staring her down with a ruthless gaze.
“Soldiers on the ground in D.C. and Atlanta will face three times their numbers,” Johnson said calmly.
Kramer shook her head. “Three times? You expect our men to take back Atlanta and D.C. facing those kinds of numbers? I’m sorry, Mr. Vice President, but that is suicide. We would be better off using our nuclear—”
Johnson pounded the table. The rattle echoed through the room. Kramer’s mouth opened, but she didn’t speak.
“Enough,” Johnson said. “I will not tolerate anymore talk of using nuclear weapons. And if that's not clear enough, the next time I hear that kind of insubordination, I'll be replying with a charge of treason during wartime. That's Articles 88, 89, and 90 in the UCMJ, Lieutenant Colonel. If you need to review them, you can use the copy in my quarters.”
Kramer's face betrayed her shock, but her eyes flashed in anger. Ringgold put a hand on Johnson’s arm. He leaned back, her touch seeming to calm him instantly. After a few seconds of silence, Ringgold took Johnson’s place at the head of the table.
“Some of you may doubt the plan moving forward, but we can all agree that the time to take back our country is now. It won’t be easy. But as Lieutenant Davis tried to say, we will prevail. We have a chance of finally stopping the monsters that have taken over our country and our world. Vice President Johnson and I will not destroy our cities and poison our farmlands with radiation from the fires of a nuclear holocaust. We will take them back the old-fashioned way, and fight for every inch with flesh and blood.”
Kramer raised her hand like she was about to lecture a private. “With all due respect, Madame President, we have already done that by playing God with VX99. By sending in troops, you will only poison our streets with something else—the blood of our remaining soldiers.”
There was venom in Kramer’s words that seemed to make Ringgold even more furious. Johnson's eyes lit up like he was ready to order Kramer’s arrest—or have her shot on sight. But Ringgold spoke first. “I guess I have more faith in our armed forces.”
The President pointed to the back of the room with her good arm. Fitz’s heart raced at the gesture, warmth washing over his body.
“If you haven’t noticed, Lieutenant Colonel, we have some very good men left to take back our cities, and I have the utmost confidence they will be successful.” Ringgold finished with a smile aimed at Team Ghost.
-16-
A low growl woke Beckham. His eyes flipped open to the pitch-black interior of a cold room. Instinct told him to reach for his gun, but instead of his holster, his fingers scraped against his boxer briefs. He flipped from his back to his side. The warmth of another body touched his bare chest.
“What’s wrong?” came a whisper.
His mind slowly reassembled at the sound of Kate’s voice. He was in the quarters he shared with her aboard the GW. The growl wasn’t from some grotesque Variant—it was Apollo. The dog probably needed to take a leak. Beckham did too. He slid his legs over the side of the bunk and searched the darkness for the shepherd.
“Come here, boy,” Beckham said.
A wet muzzle brushed against Beckham’s fingertips. He stroked the dog’s head, careful not to touch the fresh stitches in Apollo’s back.
“What time is it?” Kate whispered.
Beckham stepped onto the cold floor. “No idea. Close your eyes, I’m flipping the lights.”
He waited a few seconds before switching on the overhead. A bank of lights lit up the cramped quarters. Apollo looked up, squinting, his tail whipping b
ack and forth.
“Jesus,” Beckham said. “It’s 0700 hours.” They had actually slept through the night. It felt like an insult to everyone they had just lost, but their bodies had no longer been able to fend off the exhaustion. The moment Beckham’s head had hit the pillow the night before, he had passed out.
“Shit,” Kate blurted out. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. “Kryptonite will be finished by now.”
Beckham suddenly remembered the painful truths from the night before as reality came crashing back over him. He'd wanted them to be nightmares, but the evil dreams were real.
He climbed back into the bunk and curled up next to Kate. Then he patted the bed and motioned for Apollo to join them. With the dog at his back, Beckham wrapped his arms around Kate and put his palms on her stomach.
“We need to get up,” Kate groaned. She turned to kiss Beckham on the cheek.
“Kryptonite can wait, right? You finished your work. I just want to lay here with you a few more minutes.”
Kate didn’t object as he caressed her. He still couldn’t quite believe there was a part of him growing inside of her. The warmth of her body brought with it a sense of relief, like the safety and comfort he'd known as a kid. But there was no stopping the mental agony today. The pain worked its way to the front of his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about Meg and Riley. Losing the kid hurt so badly he couldn’t stand it. To lose Meg too seemed surreal. What hurt even worse was picturing the future they could have had together. He’d noticed the way Riley looked at her, and their constant teasing and bickering had been tinged with growing attraction. Even Beckham had seen that they were falling for each other.
“She’s really gone, isn’t she?” Kate asked, echoing his thoughts. She turned on her side to face Beckham.
He knew they needed to get above decks, but moments like these were rare, and Beckham wasn’t sure how many they had left.
“Yes,” Beckham finally replied. “She’s gone.”
The firefighter he’d plucked from the sewers of New York had been through so much, and in the end, it had pushed her over the edge. He’d seen it happen when soldiers lost their brothers in battle. He’d recognized the change in Meg’s eyes after they’d rescued her in New York, and Beckham wished he had said something, done something, to help her then.
Extinction End (Extinction Cycle Book 5) Page 20