Kramer stopped shaking her head to stare coldly at the Vice President. “Maybe you didn’t see the same intel reports I did. Once the juveniles leave those nests, we won’t be able to stop them. They’ll move out of the cities. Nowhere will be spared. This is our last chance to destroy them before that happens. While your strike teams are keeping them busy below ground, we must launch our nuclear arsenal.”
“You crazy bitch.” Kate hissed. Hearing Beckham was being used as bait was the last straw. “You can’t do this!”
Kramer ignored Kate. She turned and pointed the gun toward Ringgold.
“Now, Madame President, I need those launch codes, or things are going to get a lot worse. I really don’t want to hurt Doctor Lovato, but I’ll do what it takes to ensure the Variant threat is defeated once and for all.”
Kate knew what was coming, but she was more concerned with Beckham’s fate than her own. She searched the monitors a second time and stopped on the digital text that read, Team Ghost/Washington D.C.
Seeing the blank screen was too much. She dropped her hand to her stomach, cupping the child who she feared she would have to raise on her own. Overcome with dread and anger, she couldn’t stop the wave of lightheadedness that overwhelmed her.
“Kate,” Ellis said. He rushed over to her side as she fell to her knees, but Kramer beat him there.
She grabbed Kate roughly and hauled her upright. Pulling back the slide on her gun, Kramer pointed it at Kate’s temple. Kate spat in Kramer’s face without thinking.
Kramer used the back of her hand to wipe the spit off. “That wasn’t very smart.”
“If you hurt her, you’ll never get the codes,” Ringgold said defiantly.
“Okay,” Kramer said. She pushed the barrel at Kate’s temple.
Kate locked eyes with the President, a woman Kate considered a friend. There was strength there, but she knew it wasn’t enough. Ringgold wouldn’t let her die.
“I’ll give you the codes if you give the strike teams another hour to complete their mission,” Ringgold said.
“Half an hour,” Kramer said. “And that’s me being generous.” She looked toward her guards. “Get Doctor Lovato up and—”
“Ma’am.” A male officer with a sharp widow’s peak cut Kramer off. We have movement on feeds 2 and 3.”
Kate felt a chill run through her as she followed the man’s finger to the screens monitoring Operation Extinction. It was directed at Atlanta and Des Moines.
“What you got, Nelson?” Kramer asked.
“Looks like juveniles, ma'am.”
The feed for Des Moines had come back online. A camera bobbed up and down as the soldier wearing it ran for his life. He looked over his shoulder to reveal three beasts trailing him. He emerged from a sewer opening and pulled himself onto a street.
“Shit, those things are everywhere,” Nelson said.
Kramer holstered her gun and folded her arms across her chest. “Just like I said. It was suicide from the beginning.”
“No, no…NO!” shrieked a voice from the speakers.
Nelson went to reach for the audio control, but Kramer stopped him.
“Let them hear every word.”
Hesitating, Nelson withdrew his hand.
There was no trace of emotion on Kramer’s face as the man onscreen was ripped limb from limb. She didn’t care about the soldier dying on the screen in front of her. She just wanted to nuke the monsters. To obliterate the enemy, no matter what it cost.
The feed from Atlanta went dark again a few minutes later.
“Are you starting to understand, Madame President?” Kramer asked. She looked down and tapped her watch. “Looks like Des Moines and Atlanta will be our first targets. The rest of the teams have approximately fifteen minutes to complete their mission.”
Kate looked at the clock and then stared at the feed from D.C.
Come on, Reed. I know you can do this.
Davis had no idea what she was getting herself into when she asked a room full of injured soldiers to fight. A dozen men had immediately volunteered. But there were two major problems.
They only had four guns.
And the clock was ticking.
Davis was running out of time to stop Kramer from launching nukes from the USS Florida. She scrutinized the soldiers in front of her. They were all in pretty bad shape. A few could stand without assistance, but most needed crutches. One man who looked like he was in his fifties had rolled up in a wheelchair.
Davis couldn’t hold back a smile. The courage of wounded vets always amazed and inspired her. She’d needed that reassurance now more than ever. More blood was about to be spilled on the GW.
It was an odd feeling, knowing that she could only have a few minutes to live, but Davis was about to spend them with some of the world’s finest men in uniform.
She picked out two Marine PFCs she remembered from Operation Liberty. Both were young, no older than twenty-five. Bryant had thin blond hair that he wore high and tight. Kehoe didn’t have any hair at all. He had a cast on his left arm, and a long scar divided his face. It ran from his hairline, down his nose, all the way to his chin. Bryant didn’t look much better. His chest was wrapped to protect broken ribs, and his legs were bandaged from ankle to crotch. Variants had carved them up pretty good in Nashville during Operation Liberty. They had later been assigned to the GW, and had volunteered for a mission in Miami where they were injured a second time.
Now they were volunteering again.
Davis jerked her chin at the two Marines. “Kramer and her men have taken over the GW Strike Group. I need your help taking back the CIC.”
Bryant arched a brow. “The lieutenant colonel? How the hell—”
“No time for questions,” Davis said. “And she's just Kramer as far as I'm concerned. She lost her rank when she killed your brothers who didn't want to join her gang.” She handed an M9 his way. “You in?”
He took a second to think, then accepted the weapon.
“How about you, Kehoe?” Davis asked.
Kehoe extended his hand. “Hell yeah, I’m with you, LT.”
“You’re sure you can fight?” Davis asked. She didn’t mean to come across condescending, but both men shot her a glare.
“What about us?” the man in the wheelchair said.
Davis paused to think. “I don’t have any extra weapons, but I could use your help with something else.”
The man’s brown eyes lit up. He was eager for a fight.
“We need a distraction,” Davis said. “Ten minutes after we leave, you guys make as much racket down here as possible. That should attract some of Kramer’s goons.”
“You got it, ma’am,” the man in the chair replied. He wheeled away, already ordering the other patients to get ready to make some noise.
Davis had a feeling they were going to be doing more than making some ruckus. She hated leaving them behind, but she simply couldn’t risk bringing them along without weapons. It would be suicide.
“Follow me,” Davis said to her new team. She led them down the aisles of the infirmary. Chow stood as straight as he could, holding the M9 she'd given him earlier. He pulled the magazine to check the rounds while Davis went over the plan with Kehoe and Bryant.
Ten minutes after entering the infirmary, she left, with a Delta Force Operator who looked like a mummy and two Marines with multiple broken bones. But hell, she wasn’t in the best shape either. She had been slashed, shot, and nearly blown to pieces in Colorado.
They hustled out of the room with every eye following them. Davis caught the gaze of a young boy wrapped up in his mother’s arms on her way out. She recognized him from the Plum Island survivors, but couldn’t remember his name. The child raised a hand and waved. She halted in the doorway and waved back.
More determined than ever, Davis hurried into the passage with her new team. Chow was the first inside the ladder. He directed his M4 at the guard Davis had knocked out earlier. The man was groaning on the floor. She smacked
him with her M4 a second time.
“Stay down, asshole,” Davis said.
Chow continued up the ladder and halted at the top. Once Davis had ascended, she pulled her radio and turned the knob to listen to chatter. A few seconds later and a voice crackled over the channel.
“Fox 4, this is Lynx 1. We’re making a pass of Quadrant 3. Still no sign of Lieutenant Davis. Please advise, over.”
“Copy that, Lynx 1. Proceed to Quadrant 4. We have squads sweeping 1 and 2. Better check the infirmary, too. Oscar 2 missed their last radio check.”
Davis pulled the slide back on her M4 to chamber around. “Shit. That’s three patrols, and we’re about to have company. We need to move fast.”
“We should split up,” Chow said.
Kehoe and Bryant exchanged a meaningful look.
“Agreed,” Davis replied. “Kehoe, you and Bryant take the starboard passage. Chow and I’ll take the port side. We’ll meet at the CIC.”
She raised her hand as they turned to leave. “Wait, take this.” She handed Kehoe her M4 and took his M9. “You’ll need the extra firepower.”
Kehoe nodded. “Thanks, LT.”
“Good luck,” Davis replied.
The two Marines went down the passage, slow and careful, nursing their injuries but looking strong and determined just the same. Chow limped after Davis, the same determination showing in his stride and stance. Still, she turned every few minutes to make sure he was okay. His jet black hair hung over his bandaged face. He brushed it away so she could see his eyes. Chow winked, a reassuring gesture that told her to focus on the path ahead.
Davis moved quickly. She stopped at every corner to listen for Kramer’s men. The soldiers were far from special ops, and they acted like it. Most were admin staff who didn’t know how to fight. Since there wasn’t much need for their skills in the new world, Kramer had given them guns.
But in close corridors, the untrained cowards only needed to get lucky once. Davis tightened the grip on her M9. She wasn’t going to give them the opportunity.
She increased her pace toward the next four-way intersection, where she heard distant voices coming from another passage. Three of them. She slowed, pointed to the corner, then held up three fingers and signaled the direction they had approached from.
Chow slipped into a cabin across from Davis. She darted after him just as a trio of soldiers came striding around the corner. Chow crouched down and angled his M4 toward the hatch. Davis took up position with her back to the bulkhead.
She swallowed hard as the soldiers approached. A firefight here would bring every one of Kramer’s men down on them. There would be no way they could battle their way to the CIC if they were pinned down this far away.
“Got reports of a couple Marines that are still causing trouble on the Cowpens,” someone said. “The other ships are all secure except for this one. Most of 'em hardly even put up a fight.”
A second voice, muffled by a mask, growled back. “Lieutenant Colonel Kramer wants Lieutenant Davis found.”
“Copy that, sir,” came a third.
The rap of boots passed the cabin and continued down the passage, but Davis couldn’t relax. Kramer had taken over all the other ships? How the hell?
It was partly Davis’s fault. She had signed off on the major deployment that sent most of the GW’s soldiers to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot at Parris Island. It was one of the last strongholds left, and a staging ground for the final stage of Operation Extinction. Davis cursed her luck. She should have known better. She should have seen this coming.
“LT,” Chow whispered.
Davis glanced over.
“You got a plan when we get to the CIC?”
“Yeah. Don’t shoot anyone important.”
Chow cracked a pained grin. “How many hostiles?”
“At least six.”
His grin vanished, but he nodded. “I can handle that.”
“Figured as much. Let’s keep moving.”
“Hold on,” Chow whispered. “Any word on Team Ghost?”
Davis hesitated. She could see the pain in Chow’s eyes. He was desperate for news about his brothers.
“We’ll find out as soon as we get to the CIC.”
Chow scratched at one of his face bandages and wiped the blood on his shirt. He wasn’t good at hiding his anxiety, but he was damn good at disguising his physical pain.
As soon as the footfalls from Kramer’s men faded away, Davis crouch-walked back into the passage. She kept low, her M9 raised close to her right eye as she swept for contacts.
Chow moved on her left side with his M4 shouldered. Several of the bandages on his legs were weeping blood. He caught her looking at the wounds, but offered no wink of reassurance this time. Adjusting the grip on his rifle, he exhaled a short breath and pushed on.
They worked forward, watching the passages through their gun sights, boots scarcely making a sound. The security cabin came into view around the next corner. She pointed at the hatch that was now sealed. Chow moved across the corridor and took up position to the right of the hatch while Davis tried the handle.
It was unlocked.
Chow took a step backward with his rifle. Beads of sweat crawled down his bandaged face. He blinked it away, then pressed the scope back to his right eye.
Davis twisted the handle and pushed the hatch open expecting to hear gunfire as Chow rushed inside, but he cleared the cabin with a quick sweep. She motioned for him to hold security. Then she moved to check the monitors again. Kramer’s men really were amateurs. If Davis were taking over a ship, she’d have this room on lockdown. But she wasn’t about to complain.
Her eyes flitted from screen to screen. As she suspected, there were six soldiers in the CIC, but they were spread out, and one had a shotgun angled at Dr. Lovato’s head.
“Shit,” Davis said. “They have more hostages.”
She turned up the audio and leaned closer to the monitor.
“You can’t give her the codes!” Kate shouted.
Ringgold bowed her head toward the ground and then glanced up. “I’m sorry, Kate, but I have no choice.”
“You said there’s always a choice,” Kate fired back. “That there’s always hope.”
“Not this time.” Ringgold accepted a pad of paper and a pen from one of Kramer’s men.
Davis couldn’t believe her eyes. This was not the President she had come to know. Ringgold suddenly shot a discreet look at the video camera, then looked back at Kramer. “You don’t have to do this. There’s still time to change your mind. To do what’s right,” she said.
“This is the only way,” Kramer said. “In the end, you will see that.”
Ringgold pushed the pen to the paper but hesitated. “You’re wrong. You’re wrong about all of this.”
“Come on,” Chow whispered.
Davis nodded. The President wasn’t weak at all; she was stalling to give Davis and whoever else was out there a chance. She must have known Kramer’s men hadn’t captured everyone yet.
I’ll be damned. You’re one hell of a lady, Davis thought with a smile. She quickly checked the other monitors. Kehoe and Bryant were sneaking down the passage that led to the CIC. They stopped at the next four-way intersection and waited. Twenty feet around the next bulkhead, two of Kramer’s men guarded the hatch to the bridge. There were two patrols working down other corridors, and they were both closing in on Davis’s position.
“Let’s move,” she said.
Chow stepped into the hallway and waved her forward. She limped after him, gun sight pressed to her eye as she kept close to the bulkhead. The burn of anxiety rushed through her. They had been lucky so far to have avoided most of Kramer’s troops, but the men holding down the fort in the CIC would likely be the best. Davis’s small team was injured, outgunned, and facing a hostage situation.
Chow and Davis rounded the next corridor from the south. Kehoe and Bryant came into focus at the north end. The west passage led to the CIC. One of Kramer's
teams would be working its way down the east passage.
Shit was about to go down. They couldn’t avoid a showdown with Kramer’s men any longer.
Davis’s muscles tightened in anticipation as if she was preparing to be punched. She took a knee halfway down the corridor next to Chow. Kehoe raised his left arm to wave when he saw them coming. He stood and took a step toward the corner.
Davis gestured to the Marines, telling the story with her fingers.
Six hostiles in the CIC. Two more patrols on the way.
Kehoe took another small step in her direction that exposed part of his body in the firing lines from the west and east. The small movement cost him his face. It disintegrated in an explosion of bone and blood before Davis could react. Rounds punched into the bulkhead. His chest and torso jerked from the impacts.
“No!” Bryant yelled.
He grabbed Kehoe’s wrist and pulled him around the corner as another salvo of rounds slammed into the overhead.
Davis stared, unbelieving, at Kehoe’s convulsing, faceless body. It took her a moment to comprehend the fact that such a small mistake had cost him his life. The shock of watching him die vanished as anger took control. Chow was back on his feet and working toward the four-way intersection at a cautious pace.
The two soldiers who had been guarding the entrance to the CIC rushed into Chow’s line of fire—a mistake that cost them their lives. Without hesitation, the Delta Force Operator fired two quick bursts into their backs as they directed their weapons toward Bryant.
Chow was running again before Kramer’s men hit the ground. “Bryant, on me!”
The Marine scrambled away from Kehoe’s broken body and rushed into the intersection. He immediately dropped to his stomach and fired from a prone position at a target around the corner from Davis.
She whirled with her M9 raised at the corridor behind her to check their six. Confirming it was clear, she continued to Chow. He had his back against the left side bulkhead.
Rounds lanced into the deck around the corner, but Chow kept back. He waited a beat, then turned and fired off a burst. Davis took up position next to him, and tapped him on the shoulder.
Extinction End (Extinction Cycle Book 5) Page 36