The Tide (Book 5): Iron Wind

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  Hundreds of Skulls were running at the plane like a living avalanche. The Caravan couldn’t survive that. No matter how fast it went, hitting that many monsters would damage it beyond repair. Even if the plane somehow took off, it wouldn’t be in the air for long. Frank gritted his teeth. He knew what he had to do. It was why he’d chosen to take this plane. He turned the Caravan away from the runways and headed straight for the overgrown grass surrounding the tarmac. Then with a silent prayer, he pushed the throttle to its limits.

  “Uh, the runway’s over there,” Rory said, his voice shaking.

  “Where we’re going, we don’t need roads,” Frank said with a smirk.

  “This ain’t no Delorean, Battaglia!” Shepherd said.

  The plane shook as they picked up speed. Another Skull fell from the wing, and a second bounced off the fuselage, unable to find a handhold. Three more were still clinging to various points on the aircraft.

  “Seriously, what the hell are you doing?” Rory yelled over the whine of the turboprop.

  “Told you this thing is versatile!” Frank said back. “Runway or not, this beast can take off!”

  As the words came out of his mouth, the wheels hit the grass. They lost precious speed immediately, but the bucking of the plane was enough to knock loose another Skull. Only two remained—plus the hundreds running at them. Frank pulled back on the controls, easing the nose upward with the shifting elevators. A good thirty, maybe forty Skulls were barreling straight at the plane through the grass as if they were in some warped jousting match.

  Not exactly an even fight, boys, Frank thought. They were a hundred yards away, and the plane still hadn’t achieved the speed necessary for takeoff. He shoved the throttle, but it had nowhere else to go. The plane jolted as it hit another rut.

  Fifty yards away now, and the plane’s nose pointed up again. But then the Caravan bounced again, tilting slightly. One wing grazed the grass, dangerously close to digging into the dirt. If it did, they would find themselves in a tangled wreck and would be lucky to be alive when the Skulls tore them from the charred fuselage.

  Twenty yards now, and Frank had the plane running straight again. His arms shook as he leaned forward, gritting his teeth, as if that would help the plane up into the air.

  Ten yards, and one of the monsters leapt at them. It had gotten overeager and had no chance of even hitting the plane. When its body returned to the earth, its comrades ran over it, burying it into the dirt.

  Then, just yards away from the mob, the plane took off. It climbed into the sky even as the scrape of claws against metal rattled through the fuselage. One of the remaining Skulls on the wings fell away and plummeted to its death. The final stubborn bastard clung to the wing with its claws wrapped around the metal. Wind whipped at the tangles of knotted hair on its gnarled scalp. It wasn’t doing much damage, but the excess weight and compromise to the plane’s aerodynamics wouldn’t help them cross the Atlantic.

  “Ever seen that episode of The Twilight Zone?” Frank asked Shepherd.

  Shepherd looked pale, and sweat dripped down his forehead, streaming from his matted-down hair. “The one with the monster on the plane’s wing, but the guy with the gun is the only one that sees it?”

  “That’s the one,” Frank said. “Think you can shoot that thing?”

  Shepherd nodded. He rose from his seat and used one hand to hold himself upright as they entered a patch of turbulence. When it settled, he unlocked the door and kicked it open. The rush of wind threatened to tear it from the cabin, and Shepherd drew his pistol. He fired six shots straight into the Skull. One of the bullets plunged into the sheet metal of the wing, but the rest hit their mark. Fragments of bone flew from the Skull’s ribs and arm. Its mouth opened as if it was letting out a pained scream, but its voice couldn’t be heard over the wind’s roar. Its claws slid across the wing, and at last its body disappeared.

  Shepherd fought against the wind resistance and shut the door again. He locked it then slumped into his seat and wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. “That was the scariest goddamn thing I’ve done in my career. And I’ve gone toe-to-toe with Goliaths. I hate heights.”

  For once, Frank didn’t have a quip. He merely nodded his thanks and then glanced at the midshipmen. “How are you both doing?”

  Rachel gave him a shaky thumbs-up. Rory held his hand over his mouth as if he was about to vomit.

  “Hang in there,” Frank said. “Don’t think we kept any barf bags, so be careful.”

  Rory cringed then swallowed hard. He wrapped his arms around himself as if to fight off the nausea. “There’s a reason I joined the navy and not the air force.”

  Frank couldn’t help but laugh. There was freedom in flying. And now, as he soared above the wasteland that Maryland had become, he appreciated that freedom more than ever. As they drew closer to the coast, closer to the lapping waves of the Atlantic, he prayed that freedom would last. Maybe fortune would still favor him long enough for him to return to his crew, to his home aboard the Huntress.

  -34-

  Lauren tapped on the metal lab bench, leaning over Divya’s shoulder with Peter and Sean beside her. Divya’s hands were deep in the glove box. Though the bulky protective gloves made her hands appear almost three times as large as normal, she manipulated the forceps, tiny tubes, and organ-on-a-chip devices with the dexterity of a brain surgeon.

  Lauren wasn’t the only one to have noticed.

  “My, my,” Peter, the ship’s actual surgeon, said. “I think you missed your calling. You should have trained with me.”

  “I’m not a cut-and-paste type of gal,” Divya said. “I prefer talking to my patients, not chopping ’em up.”

  “That’s not all we do,” Peter said.

  Lauren grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sometimes you’re forced to fill in medical charts.”

  “I’m helping you all with the science now. Isn’t that good enough?”

  “Helping?” Sean asked. “Seems more like you’re doing a primo job of distracting Divya.”

  Peter waved their jibes away with a pretend scowl. Lauren appreciated the attempts at easing the tension, but she could see past their facades of humor and forced smiles. Each wore dark circles under their eyes. Peter’s wrinkles were more pronounced than ever, and Divya’s nut-brown skin seemed a shade or two paler. Sean’s hair was matted and greasy, giving away the fact he hadn’t had a chance for a proper shower or sleep in the past couple of days. They were operating on fumes.

  Normally Lauren would send the team off in shifts for rest, but they wouldn’t listen now. None of them had left the lab for more than a few minutes since Navid’s breakthrough. And she didn’t blame them.

  As Divya manipulated the lab-on-a-chip devices, she set up the tiny clear tubes that piped liquid in and out of the chips to get a read on what was going on in the invisible, biochemical world contained within them. This final data should tell them whether or not they had vanquished the prions produced by the Oni Agent and eliminated any chance of neurological changes in the host.

  Peter stroked the stubble along his chin, and Sean wrung his hands together nervously, over and over. Lauren kept tapping on the lab bench. She tried to tell herself to stop, but after a moment, her fingers began drumming again as if they had a mind of their own.

  “Okay,” Divya said, taking a long breath. “Everything’s hooked up. In just a few minutes, we’ll have our final tally of prion concentrations within each chip.”

  “Very good,” Lauren said. “In the mean—”

  One of the patient call buttons went off from the med bay, ringing in the lab. Lauren looked through the clear acrylic partition to see a corresponding light buzzing beside Rich’s bed. But when Lauren saw his panicked expression, she knew it wasn’t Rich who needed a doctor.

  “Christ,” Lauren said. “Tammy’s in trouble again.”

  She hung up her lab coat and rushed into the med bay.

  “Something’s wrong, Doc,” Rich said
.

  Lauren glanced at the EKG. Tammy’s pulse appeared normal. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth hung open. She pressed a stethoscope to the woman’s chest to listen for abnormalities in her breathing. Nothing seemed to be amiss.

  “Did you notice any specific symptoms?” Lauren asked. There were no obvious signs the woman was doing any worse off than she was before.

  “I just got this feeling. You know, when you’ve slept beside a person for fifteen years, you just know something’s off. I mean, I know she’s asleep, but it’s like she’s in pain.”

  Lauren studied Tammy’s face. If she stared long enough, she could almost see what Rich was talking about. Maybe it was how Tammy’s eyes were pressed together or her fingers curled into loose fists at her side.

  She chewed her bottom lip, letting her mind wander through the problem. Preexisting heart problems, starvation. Tammy’s immune system had been compromised, as evidenced by her blood workups. Her white blood cell count and immunoglobulin levels were low.

  Something was wrong. Desperately wrong.

  And it wasn’t just Tammy.

  Lauren’s stomach twisted into a painful knot. It was the dark realization she’d felt in medical school, back when she’d missed an exam question on an obvious symptom in a patient. Only this was worse. Way worse. She had been so focused on Tammy’s near-brushes with death that she had neglected the conditions of her other patients. While Tammy had suffered the most obviously, none of them had truly recovered from the effects of starvation.

  Even though they had all been on the brink when they had been rescued from Boston, they should be up and walking around by now. They would still need a careful eye on their diet and caloric intake. Maybe they would even need a bit of physical rehabilitation. But right now, the trio Dom had found in that Mass Gen Lab—Rich, Tammy, and Alex—were all still bedridden. That wasn’t right.

  Under the burden of her own sleep deprivation and the pressure of Operation Phoenix, Lauren had missed something.

  “What’s wrong, Doc?” Rich asked. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Lauren said.

  Taking a breath to ease her own anxiety, Lauren grabbed Tammy’s balled hand and forced her fingers to lay straight. The woman’s fists had been curled so tightly her fingernails had been digging into her palms. Splotches of red blood sank into the white sheets of the hospital bed.

  But it wasn’t the blood that sent a shrieking cry of alarm resonating in Lauren’s head. Adrenaline flooded her blood vessels in a raging tide that caused her hands to shake. For the sake of her patients, she let out all that pent-up anxiety and worry in a single breath then hit the patient call button to get the rest of her team’s attention.

  They turned from the biosafety cabinet, and she beckoned for Peter and Sean. Divya could finish the experiment on her own. Sean opened his mouth, presumably to ask her what was happening, but one glance at Tammy answered his question.

  “I’ll get the chelation agents,” Peter said, jogging at once to a refrigerator full of medical supplies.

  “Sean, I want a full antibody workup on everyone in the medical bay,” Lauren said.

  “You got it.”

  Lauren took a deep breath. “And that includes us.”

  When Tammy had come to the Huntress, she had been teetering on the edge between life and death. Her body had been little more than a skeleton. But Lauren remembered thinking that at least the woman hadn’t been injured. And while she had been a patient in Lauren’s care, she had never seen another Skull, much less been scratched or bitten by one.

  So why, Lauren wondered as she examined the jagged yellow nails growing from Tammy’s fingers, did it look like she was turning into a Skull?

  ***

  Kara brushed Maggie’s head then traced her hand over the dog’s shoulders. Fur coated her hands when she pulled them away. Navid held the soggy tennis ball, ready to throw it across the cargo bay for the umpteenth time. He cranked back his hand then paused. A look of concern washed over his face.

  “Is she okay?” Navid asked.

  Kara laughed. “Never owned a golden retriever, have you?”

  “Nope,” Navid said. “Never had a dog.”

  Brushing her hands together, Kara let the fur float away. Maggie nipped at it as if she wanted to eat the balls of fur. She probably would have, too, had Sadie not been holding Maggie’s collar.

  “No, girl,” Sadie said. “That’s nasty.”

  “Maggie sheds like it’s her job.” Kara picked a strand of fur off her shirt. “Gets all over your clothes. We had to vacuum the house like twice a week.”

  “Why would you want to own a dog that does that?” Navid asked, seeming genuinely perplexed.

  “How could you not?” Sadie asked. She hugged Maggie close and pressed her cheek against the dog. Maggie’s tail beat the air, and she gave Sadie a wet kiss over the side of her face. Then the bug of excitement took over, and the dog’s tail whipped faster as she frantically slurped her tongue over Sadie’s face. “Settle down, girl!”

  Navid threw the ball, and Maggie jumped for it, bounding into the shadows of the bay. “Okay, I kind of get it.”

  “I mean, seriously, how could you not want a creature who shows that kind of unconditional love?” Kara said.

  For a moment, Navid looked stricken. Maybe Kara had once again hit too close to home. She tried to give a reassuring pat on the back, but the gesture was a bit awkward.

  Crap, she thought. I’m not sure what the hell I’m supposed to do.

  But despite her lame attempt at reassurance, Navid recovered his smile. Maggie pranced back to them, holding her head high, and Navid bent to welcome her. She wound between his legs, providing the comfort and momentary happiness Kara couldn’t seem to offer.

  “All right, girl,” Navid said as he threw the ball again. Maggie’s nails clicked on the deck as she hurried after it. “Fur or not, I would definitely take one.”

  The hatch to the cargo bay opened with a clang. Hurried footsteps sounded down the ladders, and Kara spun. Her heart hammered in her chest. Nobody walking that fast would be coming with good news.

  “Kara, Sadie, Navid!” Sean called. “I’m going to need all three of you.”

  “Did you get the results from the test? What do you need us to do?” Kara was ready to get back to work again. Whatever it was, she was happy to contribute, happy to do anything to help the crew’s mission. But by the look on Sean’s face, she could tell help wasn’t what he needed them for.

  “I need to run a blood test on each of you.”

  “Why?” Navid asked.

  Sean frowned, his brows drawn together as if he didn’t quite believe what he was saying. “Lauren said we need to check for the Oni Agent.”

  -35-

  After building up a legacy of covert operations and countless successful missions aboard the Huntress, Dom was reduced to captaining a leaky lifeboat.

  He watched the first and second decks of the ferry succumb to the Titan’s assault. Water rushed over the remaining vehicles and flooded into the cabins. The Titan let go and allowed the water to finish the job. The monster looked on lazily as more water filtered into the top decks and poured through the pilothouse as the ferry sank. Soon the only evidence the vessel had been there at all was the mad rush of bubbles streaming to the surface.

  The desire to end that thing’s life welled up in him. But he didn’t want to waste any more ammunition than they had to, and judging by the way the Titan had withstood their firepower, it wouldn’t crumple easily. Maybe there were some things in this jungle, in this world now, that were better left undisturbed. Their time and lives would be better spent avoiding things like the Titan rather than trying to engage them alone and stop them through brute force. Maybe some parts of the world were just lost to the Oni Agent, and that was the depressing new reality.

  “Anything following us?” Dom asked Andris, who was scanning the river and surrounding jungle through the scope in h
is MK11.

  “Nothing I can see, Captain,” Andris replied.

  Dom surveyed the jumble of knotted trees and brush with his binos. “Anyone else spot contacts?”

  “Negative,” Jenna responded. Terrence hadn’t seen anything either.

  “Can’t see shit,” Glenn huffed as he rowed, having taken over for Andris.

  “Only contact I see is the big asshole that sunk our boat,” Meredith said. Her voice sounded strained as she heaved on the oar.

  Terrence kept his rifle shouldered but gave Meredith a look of concern. “Shit, what was I thinking? You want me to row?”

  Dom knew the answer to that question.

  “I’m good,” Meredith said. Her cheeks puffed out with each breath. “You can go do something else manly like watch for Skulls.”

  “What the fuck is he doing?” Jenna asked. She said it almost dreamily. She had one foot perched on the edge of the lifeboat and the other in the water slopping about the interior of the little craft. Her rifle remained fixed on the Titan, and she stared through the optics as if daring it to make a move.

  Dom joined her. “Truly isn’t like any Skull we’ve ever seen.”

  “Maybe it’s not a Skull,” Chao weighed in over the comm link.

  “It’s got the bones to say it is,” Miguel said.

  “Samantha and I have been watching through the vid feeds, and we think this is something similar but different.”

  Samantha’s voice cracked over the comm link next. “It’s like Dr. Manhattan. Adam is always going on...” she trailed off then corrected herself, “Adam said that the big blue guy from Watchmen became extra powerful because of a nuclear experiment gone wrong. Maybe the Titan is a result of some kind of experimentation gone wrong with the Oni Agent.”

  “Or maybe it went just right,” Miguel countered. “Maybe that thing is exactly what the twisted bastards who created it had in mind.”

  Dom scoped the shore nervously. What other dark surprises might come careening out of the jungle? But an unexpected glimmer of hope burned through the fog of uncertainty. “If that’s truly the case, and some group’s escaped genetic experiment is running wild here, then we’re on the right trail.”