Extinction Shadow

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  Fischer Fields had survived, but just by a hair.

  “Guess that makes it easy on who I’m voting for in the presidential election,” Fischer said.

  “Sir, after what I just heard, I doubt there’s even going to be an election,” Sharp replied.

  — 25 —

  The table in the PEOC was packed full with military officers, cabinet members, staffers, and the President and Vice President, all of them reacting to the news from Team Ghost. Beckham bowed his head, his heart aching at the report.

  Specialist Will Lincoln had passed on the flight from Minneapolis to Scott AFB.

  Another member of Team Ghost, lost in the line of duty.

  Beckham could sympathize well with how Fitz must have been feeling. He had been there many times as the former lead of Team Ghost.

  “I’m sorry about Lincoln, but his sacrifice could very well end this new Variant threat,” said Brigadier General Barnes.

  “He was a good man,” Horn said. “One of the best soldiers to fight on Team Ghost.”

  Lincoln’s death wasn’t the only one.

  Casualty reports flooded in from FOBs across the country.

  Flashbacks to Operation Liberty and the other major operations during the Great War of Extinction played in Beckham’s mind.

  Operation Shadow was supposed to be different.

  Team Ghost had destroyed the beast that Kate and Carr believed was controlling the Variant communication network. He had seen the footage of the grenade that blew the mastermind to pieces.

  Now it was a waiting game on whether this would really end the threat of invasion. If it didn’t, the military was preparing to face the beasts again.

  In a matter of twenty-four hours, command had redistributed resources to protect outposts as well as distributed twelve thousand troops to the ninety-eight outposts. But with sixty thousand plus Variants out there and an unknown number of juveniles, Beckham was sweating missiles.

  “Even without a mastermind coordinating them, we need to stay on alert for a full-fledged attack,” Beckham said. “The Variants and collaborators are still out there, and we have no idea how many juveniles there are.”

  “We’re ready, Captain,” Barnes said confidently.

  Beckham hoped Barnes was right about that and about Lincoln’s sacrifice disrupting the invasion.

  “I’ve just got confirmation that the final troops have arrived at their destinations,” Barnes continued. “These additional forces combined with the existing fortifications at these outposts should withstand anything the Variants throw at us, especially since we’re ready for their tunnels.”

  Side conversations continued as staff and officers went back to their jobs of monitoring the missions. Beckham sat listening to reports. From what he had gathered, Team Ghost was the only team that had made it out of the target cities so far.

  Two of the six teams were confirmed KIA, and two of the remaining three were radio silent. SEAL Team 5 in Chicago had broken radio silence and Beckham was anxious to see the footage from their helmet cams.

  Even though they had been retired for eight years, Beckham and Horn were used to being in the fight. It never got easier sitting by while other men and women did the dirty and dangerous work.

  Worse, Beckham hated that he was waiting here without his family. He tried to reassure himself that Peaks Island was well guarded.

  But none of that helped his frayed nerves.

  The voice of General Souza at SOCOM came over the conference phone in the center of the table.

  “Surveillance aircraft are moving in on the following targets for observation,” he said. “Minneapolis, Minnesota; Chicago, Illinois; Lincoln, Nebraska; Kansas City, Missouri; Indianapolis, Indiana; and Columbus, Ohio.”

  President Ringgold got up and paced while they waited for live footage, fidgeting with her collar. Beckham hadn’t seen her this anxious in a long time. But he knew part of this had to do with the decision she was going to have to make about the US Bank Stadium in Minneapolis.

  She still hadn’t given the order to bomb it and destroy the Variants there, and if she did, she would end the lives of hundreds of human prisoners, if not more.

  Maybe it’s giving them mercy. Beckham thought back to the footage from Dohi and Rico. There was almost zero chance the military could save those people now, and they were all suffering unimaginable hell.

  Beads of sweat dripped down Beckham’s forehead. He wiped them away with a sleeve.

  “Madam President,” Barnes said. “I just received confirmation on the extraction of SEAL Team 5 from Chicago. We should have that footage soon.”

  Beckham exchanged a glance with Horn. The big guy was nervous, too, his right leg rocking under the table.

  Lemke stood from his chair and joined Ringgold while Barnes spoke on his headset. The brigadier general’s face suddenly turned white.

  “What’s wrong?” Ringgold said.

  Barnes cleared his throat and pointed at the wall-mounted screen.

  “We just received SEAL Team 5’s footage.”

  Beckham strained for a better look at the images that came online, but it only took a moment to recognize the ugly beast as one of the brains.

  “There’s another one?” Horn said, eyes widening.

  “If there are two, there could be more,” Barnes said.

  Lemke cursed and brushed his hair back. “I don’t believe this.”

  Beckham couldn’t believe it either. Their mistake could doom the country unless they located every one of the abominations and eliminated them before the creatures could coordinate a massive attack with their Variant and collaborator hordes.

  The thought chilled Beckham to his marrow. He resisted the urge to get up and board a bird right back to Peaks Island and Outpost Portland.

  They’re well protected, he reminded himself. They’re fine.

  “I think it’s time to consider taking drastic measures,” Barnes said. “I can have all six of these targets destroyed in fifteen minutes, Madam President.”

  “There has to be another way,” Beckham said. “Nuking the cities will mean our country never recovers. Plus, we just sent troops to outposts around those targets and, the fallout, even from low-yield nukes, will cause severe radiation poisoning.”

  “What other options do I have?” Ringgold asked.

  Beckham hadn’t been privy to all of the strategic planning at command but he had a feeling Barnes wanted to test the limits of the damage they could inflict.

  He was right.

  “MOABs then,” Barnes said.

  Mother-of-all-bombs, Beckham thought. One of the most powerful non-nuclear options they had at their disposal.

  “Drop MOABs on every site and send those monsters back to hell,” Barnes said. “Starting with US Bank Stadium. It’s not as much a guarantee as nukes, but it might do the trick.”

  “We could also send in troops to clear the cities afterward, but that would pull them away from the outposts,” Lemke said.

  “General Souza, are you listening?” Ringgold asked.

  The voice of the SOCOM Commander crackled from the speaker in the center of the table. “Yes, Madam President, I’m listening.”

  “What do you propose we do in light of these new developments?”

  “Problem is we don’t really know where the other masterminds are and, from the footage Team Ghost sent, they clearly have the ability to move. If we did know their location, then I would say drop MOABs, but if we don’t know, then we’re just wasting ordnance.”

  “Good point,” Lemke said. “Even if we wanted to, we don’t have enough MOABs to level every potential nest for these masterminds. I think we’re going to have to send teams back in to track them.”

  Barnes grunted. “How many Special Op teams do we have available?”

  A knock came on the door and a Secret Service agent stepped in.

  “We have a problem.”

  Beckham gripped the table, preparing to stand.

  “
Something’s tripped the sensors about three miles from the perimeter,” he said. “We sent out a team of Marines to check it out. Probably nothing, but I wanted you to know.”

  Ringgold looked to Lemke.

  “We’re safe here,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

  Beckham had a feeling she was thinking the same thing as he was about the fate of the Vice President’s predecessor. George Johnson had died in this very room at the hands of Variants.

  “Sound the alarm,” Beckham said.

  Barnes didn’t seem to like that idea. “All due respect, but that could…”

  “Save lives if there is something out there,” Ringgold said. “Go ahead and do it.”

  The agent nodded and closed the door. As soon as he left, the debate over what to do next continued.

  “I’m going to check this out,” Horn said quietly.

  Beckham shifted uneasily in his chair as Horn ducked out. His gut told him something was happening out there that no one understood, not even his wife.

  “Madam President,” Beckham said, interrupting the conversation.

  All eyes were on him.

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “I’d like to propose something.”

  Lemke studied Beckham as he stood in front of the table.

  “Go ahead,” Ringgold said.

  Before he could say anything the voice of General Souza came from the speaker.

  “Madam President, our surveillance aircrafts are sending back some disturbing footage.”

  Barnes turned on the wall-mounted screen with a remote. The screen divided into sections, each with the view from one of the aircrafts in the target cities.

  “We’re too late…” Lemke said.

  “Variants are pouring out of the tunnels in these areas,” Souza said. “We’ve scrambled bomber squadrons, but I need your authorization.”

  “There are so many,” Barnes’ face drained of color. “How is this possible?”

  “They have been breeding,” Beckham said. “They’ve been so far out of surveillance this whole time. Underground. In those tunnels. We underestimated their numbers.”

  “Do it,” Ringgold said firmly. “Drop bombs on the hordes, and take out US Bank Stadium. Reduce it to ashes. I don’t want any chance of anything surviving.”

  “Understood,” Souza said.

  Beckham swallowed hard and blinked from sweat stinging his eyes. He said a prayer for the people that were about to die, but knew the president was making the right choice.

  The door to the room suddenly swung open, and Horn burst inside, his eyes wide.

  “We’ve got hostiles moving toward our location.” That Marine team was just ambushed by a pack of Variants.”

  Barnes shot up. “You heard him! Let’s move, people!”

  The room quickly emptied, everyone joining officers, staff, and soldiers in the open space of the PEOC command area.

  Beckham went to look at the monitors. It wasn’t just Variants out there. Several trucks had broken through the outer perimeter.

  “Collaborators,” Horn grumbled. “We got to get everyone the hell out of here, boss.”

  “It’s safer down here,” said Barnes.

  “You sure about that?” Beckham asked.

  On screen, hundreds of Variants stormed the machine gun nests and guard towers along the perimeter. The hordes stormed through the hail of fire, tearing apart soldiers on the front lines.

  Barnes went quiet. Reality seemed to be sinking in. He snapped out of it a moment later and began barking orders.

  Ringgold stood next to Beckham, her jaw clenched and face pallid.

  “How did this happen?” she asked in a low voice.

  “All this time we thought they’d been living like animals outside our safe zones, barely scraping by,” Beckham said. “But they must’ve been preparing for this. Growing their numbers and keeping their children away from our drones, underground.”

  “My God, how do we stop them?”

  Beckham didn’t have an easy answer.

  “We fight,” Horn said in a gruff voice.

  Barnes hurried over to them. “Air evac is ready. Madam President, things are beginning to look uncertain here. We need to get you to the USS George Johnson.”

  “Horn, Beckham, I want you to join me,” Ringgold said.

  “All the way out there?” Horn asked. “Something else going on we don’t know about?”

  “We’re getting reports of Variants attacking most every outpost,” Barnes said. “At this point, the safest place from these tunneling bastards is at sea.”

  “What about Outpost Portland?” Beckham said.

  A vein bulged in Horn’s neck as he waited for a response.

  “No report of an attack yet,” came a voice from an officer monitoring the radios.

  “I don’t know about you, boss,” Horn said, “but I’m not running off to some ship while our families are out there.”

  “Madam President,” Beckham began, “I’m sorry, but I can’t abandon my family.”

  Secret Service agents huddled around the group, waiting to evacuate the president and vice president.

  “We’ll stop at Peaks Island and Outpost Portland first,” Ringgold said.

  Barnes looked ready to protest.

  “We need to get Doctor Lovato and Doctor Carr to safety if we have any hope of winning this fight,” Ringgold said.

  “I agree,” replied Lemke said. “I’ll inform General Souza and have him send some extra birds to extract the doctors and their staff and equipment.”

  “What about civilians?” Horn demanded.

  “Evacuation will have to be on a case by case basis, but we will make sure your families are safe,” Ringgold said.

  Horn jogged to one of the weapon racks at the back of the PEOC and grabbed his M249. Then he grabbed Beckham’s M4 and tossed it to him. They surged through the crowd as officers rushed to organize the chaotic defense and evacuation efforts.

  Ringgold was waiting with one departing group in front of the elevator. Beckham and Horn met up with them.

  “I’ll hold this position, Madam President,” Barnes called out. “Good luck!”

  “You too, General,” she said. “Give these bastards everything you’ve got.”

  “You can count on that.” Barnes turned back to the screens.

  The elevator doors opened, and Beckham squeezed in with the others. By the time they unloaded and got to the front entrance, the Variants and the collaborators had broken through the first line of defenses.

  Muzzle flashes lit up the darkness like fireflies.

  A LAW rocket streaked through the night, exploding against a guard tower.

  “Holy shit!” shouted Horn.

  A team of Marines and Secret Service agents led them through the gardens of the Greenbrier and headed for Marine One and Marine Two.

  The rotors were already churning when Beckham saw the choppers. Several Marines formed a perimeter around the area.

  Floodlights flicked on, illuminating the grounds around the White House. One of the Marines opened fire into the forest beyond the gardens.

  Beckham couldn’t see anything through the fence of trees and kept running, but Horn suddenly stopped and brought up his M249.

  “Six o’clock!” he yelled.

  He fired at what looked like ghosts moving into the floodlights. Beckham aimed at the camouflaged Variants and squeezed the trigger. Blood sprayed from wounds that sent the monsters tumbling.

  An explosion boomed behind them, but Beckham kept firing at the flanking beasts. Ringgold and Lemke ran with their staff, protected by a dozen Marines and Secret Service agents. The group fired as they advanced, taking out creatures bounding out of the forest on all fours.

  Beckham jammed in a new magazine and snuck a glance over his shoulder at the side entrance to the White House. A burning pickup truck had slammed into a pillar of stones, and two collaborators smoldered on the pavement. More soldiers spread out to secure the grounds.<
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  “Boss, behind us!” Horn yelled.

  Beckham squeezed off two bursts to take down a pair of monsters that had made it onto the lawn. Horn killed their comrades and then took off running with Beckham.

  They had fallen behind the others. Lemke and half of the staff had already boarded Marine 2 while Ringgold and the other half piled into Marine 1.

  Beasts flooded toward the grounded choppers. Horn stopped to lay down covering fire. Beckham did the same, scoring a headshot that took off the top of a creature’s skull.

  “Come on!” shouted Ringgold. She waved from the open door of the chopper before two guards pulled her back.

  Beckham patted Horn on the shoulder and they took off running toward Marine 1. When they were fifty feet from the troop hold, a group of armored Variants burst from the bushes.

  The choppers started to lift from the ground.

  Horn fired at the pack of juveniles.

  “Big Horn, let’s go!” Beckham shouted. He grabbed him and pulled him toward the bird. One of the young beasts made it past the hail of rounds, losing half an armored limb in the process, but charging the two men anyway.

  A shot to the head from the chopper took it down. Lemke was watching out from the open door, directing his agents to cover Beckham and Horn.

  They reached to help Beckham and Horn into the chopper as it hovered just a few feet off the lawn. They crawled in just as a pack of Variants filled the open field.

  Gunfire cracked all around. The Marines and Secret Service agents fired at the armored beasts reaching up with clawed hands as the chopper pulled away.

  Panting, Beckham rose up on his knees.

  “Thanks,” he said to Lemke.

  Horn lay on his back, his chest heaving. “Man, that was too close.”

  “Way too close,” Beckham said.

  This must have been it. The start of the invasion. If the attack on the White House was any indication, the Variants and their collaborators weren’t pulling any punches.

  A Marine shut the door and Beckham stood with the others to look out the windows.

  All hell had broken loose across the former Greenbrier resort. Muzzle flashes cut through the night like miniature lightning strikes, and orange blasts bloomed from explosions.