The Extinction Cycle (Book 6): Extinction Aftermath

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “They’re almost inside!” Ringgold shouted.

  She lost sight of the men as the missile exploded in mid-air. A brilliant blast blossomed over the gardens. The heat wave scorched the trees.

  The chopper turned again, blocking her view.

  “We’re clear!” one of the pilots said.

  Ringgold turned to look at the White House. The roof was smoking, but it wasn’t the fire she was worried about. It was the viral payload.

  “Did anybody see if those men got inside?” she asked.

  “I’m sure they made it, ma’am,” Nelson said, but she could tell he didn’t really believe it.

  Ringgold couldn’t even find the words to reply. If Wood had his way, he was going to send humanity beyond the brink of extinction. She couldn’t let that happen—she had to find Beckham. He had stopped Colonel Zach Wood, and now he was the only man she trusted to stop his lunatic brother before it was too late.

  She watched in silence as the helicopter sped away from the smoldering resort, wondering if, even now, the Hemorrhage Virus was wreaking havoc on the people she had left behind.

  Beckham touched the pocket containing Sheila’s ring, wondering if he would ever find a quiet moment to propose to Kate. He’d thought about doing it tonight after dinner, but once again a crisis had intervened.

  The beams from the jeep’s headlights cut through the night as they pulled away from the lab building. Kate and Ellis were in the back seat discussing their findings, and Beckham was doing everything he could not to interrupt or ask questions.

  As he watched them talking animatedly, their heads bent together, he felt a flicker of emotion. Not jealousy, exactly. Ellis wasn’t a romantic rival, but he did get to share something with Kate that Beckham couldn’t. He’d always considered himself to be an intelligent guy, but those two were on a whole different level.

  Beckham looked down at his ruined leg and his prosthetic hand. He’d been a different man when he’d fallen in love with Dr. Kate Lovato. Would she still want to marry him now?

  Fitz had warned him about feelings like this. After the young Marine had lost his legs in Iraq, he’d also lost a lot of his self-confidence. The important thing, he’d told Beckham, was not to pretend like nothing had happened. People would look at you differently. You’d look at yourself differently, too.

  What did Kate see when she looked at him now?

  As if sensing his troubled thoughts, Kate glanced up and smiled at him. Her eyes were tired, and there were wrinkles on her forehead that hadn’t existed seven months ago. She was still the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen.

  Beckham smiled back, a lopsided grin, and felt his dark mood lighten.

  “So lemme get this straight,” said Horn from the driver’s seat. Unlike Beckham, the big guy had no problems with interrupting the scientific discussion in the back seat. “You’re saying there are giant killer bats and bug like Variants in France?”

  Ellis began a scientific explanation of how the Variants had mutated from the radiation that had poisoned much of the country when the EUF blew up nuclear power plants. Beckham tried to follow it, but a hissing in his ear alerted him to a transmission for command staff. He cupped his earpiece and saw Horn doing the same.

  “There has been an attack on SZT 61 in New Orleans,” said a voice over the comms. “President Ringgold has reportedly launched a missile armed with the Hemorrhage Virus. All attempts to reach the Oval Office have gone unanswered. Plum Island is on level 4 lockdown until further notice.”

  Horn locked eyes with Beckham. In the back seat, Ellis was still talking about radiation and epigenetic changes.

  “Shut up, Doc,” Horn said.

  Ellis dropped his hands to his lap. “What? What I’d say?”

  Air raid sirens answered his question, wailing from towers all across the island. Beckham relayed the news about the attack to Kate and Ellis.

  “She would never do that,” Kate said. “There’s no way.”

  “This was Wood,” Beckham said.

  “Doesn’t the mayor know that? What about General Rayburn?”

  “They know. But I don’t trust Walker, and I’m still not sure about Rayburn.”

  “If the White House is compromised, there’s no one to relay our findings to the EUF. They’ll proceed with Operation Reach and make things even worse,” Ellis said, raking his hand through his slicked-back hair.

  “God damn Andrew Wood,” Kate said. “Damn that whole family.”

  Beckham felt Kate’s rage and frustration in his own chest. If Operation Reach went ahead as planned, the radiation from the bombs could fuel even more nightmarish mutations in the juveniles.

  The situation stateside looked grim, too. And if Wood had really launched those missiles... How far would he go to avenge his brother’s death? What did he really hope to gain? The White House going dark at the same time as the attack on New Orleans was troubling. If he’d been planning the campaign to destabilize the country, then framing President Ringgold for a bioweapon attack on her own people was a smart tactic. Through Beckham’s muddled thoughts came the words of the soldier back at the Command Center.

  Sir… Is it possible that Wood is hunting for you and your men?

  “Reed?” Kate said.

  “Not now. I’m trying to think.”

  In the rearview mirror, he saw her blue eyes flare with hurt and then look away.

  “I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean to snap, I just—”

  Another transmission hissed into his ear.

  “Captain Beckham, we need you back at Command. ASAP.”

  It was Rayburn, and there was something about his voice that Beckham didn’t like. As of right now, the only people he trusted on the island were in this jeep.

  Horn yanked the steering wheel and took a right back into town.

  “Captain Beckham, do you copy?”

  “Yeah, I copy. I’ll be there in twenty,” Beckham replied.

  Static hissed over the channel.

  The silence was telling. Sometimes the words that weren’t spoken were the biggest clue to a man’s plan.

  “Head back to the house,” Beckham ordered. “We don’t have much time.”

  “But Rayburn just said…” Instead of finishing his sentence, Horn twisted the wheel again and sped toward the residential area of the island.

  “We’ll get the kids, food, and supplies, and then we’ll make our way to the Animal Disease Center buildings. Nobody goes out there anymore, but the structures are sound. Once you’re all safe, I’ll return to Command. Horn will stay protect you until I come back.”

  “No!” Kate said. “You can’t do this alone, Reed.”

  Horn nodded. “We should stick together, boss. Fuck going back to Command. I don’t trust nobody there.”

  Beckham pulled Jensen’s .45 from his holster. He snapped open the breach and checked for ammo. It had been months since he had used the gun for anything but target practice, but he’d kept it well maintained just in case.

  “I think we have to assume Walker and Rayburn have already been or will be compromised. Walker’s loyalty to the president is fair weather at best, and Rayburn…” Beckham shook his head. “I’m just not sure about him.”

  He holstered the revolver. “What I am sure of is that Wood is coming here on the Zumwalt to get revenge for his brother.”

  There was a hard silence broken by Kate’s no-nonsense voice, the one she used when she’d already made up her mind about something. “Then we face him with you. We’re a family, all of us. We stick together.”

  “Fitz and Commander Davis aren’t coming to save the day this time. They’re both thousands of mile away,” Beckham said. “And I’m not going to let Wood hurt any of you. Kate, you have to trust me on this. If I don’t report in, they will come looking for me. I have to get ahead of this thing, and my first step is to go to Command to gather intel.”

  Kate raised an eyebrow. “And if it’s a trap?”

  “Then I fight my w
ay out and rendezvous with you all later.”

  “You against how many men?” Horn said with a snort. “Boss, I hate to break it to you, but you ain’t the soldier you used to be.”

  Beckham gritted his teeth. The words stung, but they were true. He was lucky if he could take on one trained opponent, let alone an entire post of them.

  “Reed, you are staying with us or else we’re coming with you.” Kate’s lip trembled as she sucked in a breath. “You are not leaving me to raise this baby on my own.”

  Hot tears prickled in his eyes. He cleared his throat and turned back to the windshield to think.

  Horn pulled the jeep into the residential area. The streets and sidewalks were empty. Drapes were pulled across the windows of every house on their block.

  “We make this quick,” Beckham said.

  Horn pulled up to their small house and killed the engine. “Do I have time to grab a beer? I sure as hell could use one.”

  Beckham almost laughed, but his chest was so tight he could hardly breath. He got out of the jeep and opened the door for Kate, then offered his hand to help her out. A cold rush of wind rustled her hair. She looked fragile in the light from the street poles, but he knew she was stronger than she looked. Holding her hand in his left, he walked with her to the house.

  Inside, Donna and the kids were just finishing dinner. She and her son, Bo, were a regular fixture at their house.

  “There’s some macaroni left over,” she said. “Hope ya’ll are hungry.”

  Tasha and Jenny sprang up from their chairs and rushed over to hug Horn. He wrapped his arms around the girls and bent down to whisper something to them.

  “Thanks for babysitting,” Kate said.

  Donna smiled. “My pleasure. Bo is finally starting to talk again, and I think it’s mostly because of the girls.” She lowered her voice and whispered, “I think he’s got a little crush on Tasha.”

  Kate forced a quick smile. Beckham could see that she just barely holding things together.

  He sat down next to Bo, who was picking at a piece of cheesy macaroni on his plate.

  “Hey kid, how you doin’?” Beckham asked. “You want to go on a field trip?”

  Bo shrugged. The little boy had been through hell, surviving the Variants on the mainland and then losing his father during the fight with the Bone Collector a few months ago. A kid his age should be out riding bikes and playing baseball, but Bo mostly clung to his mother’s shadow.

  Donna gave him a worried look. “What kind of a trip?”

  Kate pulled her aside to explain while Beckham followed Horn into the bedrooms. Their gear was already packed and ready to go. They grabbed the bug-out bags, along with some extra weapons, and hurried back into the living room.

  Beckham dropped his bag and pulled his .45 at the sound of a rap on the front door. He gestured for everyone to get back. Horn herded the kids into the hallway with Kate, Ellis, and Donna. Then he grabbed his SAW and took up position in the family room.

  They exchanged a glance, and Horn slowly walked up to the door to check the peephole.

  “Holy shit,” he whispered, stepping backward.

  Beckham raised the gun, ready to open fire, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might break through his chest.

  “Get up here, boss.”

  Beckham pulled the hammer back and joined Horn at the door. He looked through the peephole. On the front step was a woman dressed in a rumpled suit. Two men were waiting at the end of the walk, watching the street. An American flag pin gleamed on the woman’s lapel, but she had a shawl wrapped around her head like a hood, hiding her face.

  Despite the hood, Beckham had a pretty good idea who she was. He just had no idea what she was doing on his doorstep. He opened the door and stood aside. The woman let her hood fall, revealing a face Beckham hadn’t been sure he would ever see again.

  “Jan?” Kate’s disbelieving voice called from the hallway. She rushed forward and embraced President Ringgold.

  “It’s good to see you,” she said, patting Kate’s back, then holding her out at arm’s length to take a look at her. “When are you due?”

  “Another three months,” Kate said.

  Ringgold smiled, but she looked exhausted. She turned and called to the men who had followed her to the door. “Barnes, you stay outside. Soprano, Nelson, come with me.”

  The man she’d addressed as Barnes nodded and stepped back outside, while the two men in suits followed Ringgold inside.

  “I wish this was just a social call,” Ringgold said, “but we have a situation. No, that’s an understatement. We have a catastrophe. I assume you’ve already heard about New Orleans?”

  They nodded, and Ringgold wasted no time in briefing them on the full situation. The missile attack on SZT 61 wasn’t the only one Wood had launched.

  Beckham looked over at the fearful faces of Donna and the children, who were watching them from the hallway. He jerked his chin at Horn, who shepherded them to the master bedroom. Horn joined Beckham, Kate, Ellis, and Ringgold a minute later. Beckham gestured for them all to take a seat in the living room.

  “How did you get here?” he asked.

  “We almost didn’t. I…I ordered these men to accompany me and left Vice President Johnson in charge of the PEOC. We got out just in time, just as the missile came in. Almost everybody made it below ground, but there was a patrol…”

  She trailed off, her voice breaking on the last word. Beckham felt her pain. He’d been forced to make hard choices on missions. He’d never intentionally left anyone behind, but sometimes there was no other choice. The president wasn’t a Delta Operator. She couldn’t be expected to behave like a combat veteran, especially not with the threat of Hemorrhage raining down on her.

  “You did what you had to do, Madame President. But what I meant was, how did you land on the island without being spotted? We have checkpoints and patrols everywhere.”

  “Stealth helicopter. We landed not far from the abandoned Animal Disease Center buildings.” Ringgold took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Captain Beckham, you are the only man I can entrust with my safety. I’ve already asked you to protect this island, and now I am here to ask you to shelter me until Lieutenant Wood is stopped.”

  He held the president’s gaze and said, “Ma’am, I wish to God I didn’t have to tell you this, but Plum Island isn’t safe anymore.”

  -20-

  Commander Davis sat in the passenger seat of the pickup while Diaz drove. She checked and rechecked her weapons. It was the only thing that seemed to calm her down.

  She felt like a rabid animal on a chain—a chain that was about to snap.

  Diaz stomped the pedal as they passed the juvenile-infested marsh. The beasts were back to crouching in the muck. Davis watched them curiously as they passed. One of the creatures glanced up, but then went back to fishing for prey in the swamp. For once Davis directed her anger at something other than the monsters. ROT was a much bigger threat than the Variants now.

  “Still can’t get anyone at the PEOC?” Diaz asked.

  Davis shook her head and put the satellite phone back in her vest. “They’ve gone dark.”

  “How about Marks?”

  Davis shook her head again, trying not to think the worst about the silence on both ends.

  Diaz tightened her grip on the steering wheel, like she was holding in another question.

  “What?” Davis asked.

  Diaz jerked her chin toward the back. “You think the White House is gone and Marks is dead, don’t you?”

  Davis took in a breath of the cool night air.

  “I don’t know, Diaz.”

  “What about Sanders and Robbie? Do you trust these guys?”

  “I don’t know,” Davis repeated, trying not to snap at Diaz’s barrage of questions.

  Sergeant Sanders and PFC Robbie were sitting in the bed of the truck, weapons cradled across their chests. Neither of the men wore CBRN suits, but they did have NVGs. They b
oth appeared exhausted, and judging by their wild shooting back at OP119, they weren’t going to be much help. They had come through with the C4, though. Davis had enough to effectively scuttle the GW and destroy the 140s if charges were placed in the right spots.

  But she was too late to prevent the first of the attacks, and she wouldn’t forgive herself for that. She could still picture the twin exhaust trails as the missiles launched. Their trajectories were tattooed on her mind’s eye. Davis couldn’t be certain of their targets, but she would make damn sure Wood didn’t get the chance to launch any more missiles from her ship.

  “I’m surprised Black didn’t beat the shit out of them,” Diaz said, jerking her chin at the rearview mirror. “The bastards shot him.”

  In the back of the truck, Sanders pulled off his Dolphins hat and ran a hand over his head, then put the cap back on and bent the bill. Robbie raised his rifle to scope the side of the road.

  “Black is lucky to be alive. He realizes that, and he also realizes we need Sanders and Robbie’s help.”

  Diaz just nodded, her NVGs wobbling over her eyes. They were way too big for her. She still hadn’t asked Davis what her plan was. That was good, because Davis wasn’t exactly sure herself. First they had to find Marks and his men, assuming they were even still alive. Then they would figure out how to board the GW—assuming the ship was even there.

  Davis stroked her M4 and concentrated on taking deep breaths. She could almost feel her blood quickening in her veins as they got closer to Fort Pickens.

  “Where should I pull off?” Diaz asked.

  “How far out are we?”

  “We just passed the intersection where we got this ride.”

  Davis looked out of the broken passenger window and cursed. She hadn’t been paying attention. She was losing her edge.

  “Pull over by that sign over there.” She pointed at a billboard advertising deep-sea fishing excursions.

  A salty breeze filled the truck as Diaz drove onto the shoulder and rolled to a stop. Davis jumped out and made her way to the bed. Sanders and Robbie were already sweeping the terrain for contacts. Black grabbed the bags of C4 and threw them over his shoulders.