The Sixth Extinction: America (Omnibus Edition | Books 1 – 8)

by Johnson, Glen

  Alex looked to the side. Nothing was getting past the flamethrower. He checked the other way. Nothing, just the end of the dock, and the river was turbulent, with the water splashing up over the dock due to the storm.

  The creatures have to be climbing the starboard side. But the river is a torrent, due to the rain, surely they can’t swim against it?

  The rain washed down his face, blurring his vision.

  “What did they say?” the man called Stu asked, as he used the hand with Kermit the Frog hand puppet to wipe rain water from his face. All he managed to do was wipe blood across his forehead.

  “I thought she said there is an infected onboard?”

  “There’s only one infected on the ship, and she’s not in any fit state to hurt anyone,” he stated.

  “You have an infected on your boat?”

  “Yes, her name is Tish. She was infected a few days ago. She is comatose. She can’t hurt anyone. We were about to deal with the situation.” His voice wavered on the word deal.

  The people on the deck were all shouting.

  Stu took a step back to get a better view of what was happening on deck.

  “The skinny black woman with the crazy hair and a child is causing a problem.”

  “Ah, that would be Tierra. She’s been a little strange as of late, what with her son being almost thrown out of a window.”

  “Seriously? Jeez!”

  Rain poured down. It bounced off the dock. The sound of it hissing when it hit the flames was louder than the roar from the river.

  “I don’t think this is the place for a long conversation. I will talk more when we are on the boat and safely away from that lot.” Alex pointed to the charging creatures that the wave of flames was washing over. They seem unconcerned with the consuming fire. They twisted and fell in droves. The smell of burning flesh was irritating Alex’s nostrils.

  Naked bodies thrashed on the dock, while being consumed by the flames. Blackened bodies littered the muddy ground, and floated on the water.

  The remaining women finished climbing onboard.

  Alex gripped the netting and started to clamber up.

  Stu stood breathing hard while holding the net steady.

  When Alex reached the top, he swung himself over and onto the deck. He turned to help Stu up, and was surprised to see the large man skillfully shoot up the net like a monkey.

  Alex held out a hand.

  Stu swung his bulk over and sprang onto the deck, giving a few bounces as he did, like a prize boxer jumping into the ring.

  “What’s the problem?” Stu shouted at Caroline.

  “Where do I start?” She pointed to Tierra. “That one’s bat-shit crazy, like a two-dollar whore on meth.”

  Tierra was spinning around, shouting at one person, then another, screaming that she needed to get off the boat; her son was in danger. She gripped Dante close to her chest. The child was silent and unmoving.

  Caroline moved her finger to Naomi. “And that ones an angry, grumpy bitch!”

  Naomi was arguing with someone who was stood in the way of the door leading below deck.

  “No one’s getting off this boat!” Smokie shouted.

  Everyone spun to look at Smokie as she removed her headphones.

  “Yes, there is an infected person onboard, but she is comatose, and is no danger to anyone. She will be leaving us very soon.” Her words faded out. “Andy, get this boat moving!”

  A man, in a bright yellow waterproof jacket and cap, nodded and moved into the wheelhouse and commenced revving the idling engine.

  People ignored the newcomers and started racing around. There was one person still on the dock. The woman untied the ropes and quickly scampered up the thick netting. The boat engine spluttered and rattled, and with a belch of diesel smoke, the vessel started drifting with the powerful river and started to pull away from the dock.

  As the gap widened the flamethrower stopped.

  Creatures tried to jump the distance, but it was too wide; they splashed down into the frothing water and vanished below the churning surface.

  “Take us home!” Smokie shouted. “Take us to our island!”

  147

  Bachman, Emma, and Peter

  On the artificial lake

  Zone 9

  The underground bunker

  Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania

  Nothing latched onto Bachman’s flesh. Suddenly, a face broke the water mere inches from his.

  A fucking dolphin. You have got to be kidding me!

  The pink dolphin started nodding its head, splashing Bachman’s face. It gave out a piercing screech-like laugh that ended in a long series of clicks. Three more broke the surface. One dived over Bachman’s head.

  Bachman’s whole body surged with relief. He noticed the snout was a lot longer than what he would normally associate with a dolphin.

  “Pink dolphins!” he hollered.

  Emma and Peter could just about see what was happening. They were jumping up and down with joy, while trying to keep as quiet as possible.

  “My god, Inia Geoffrensis,” Peter said after they had calmed down and were stood watching the pink dolphins swim around Bachman.

  “Inia what?”

  “The pink river dolphin of the Amazon. One of the five species of dolphins that can survive in fresh water.”

  “I’m not going to ask how you know that.”

  “My little sister is crazy about dolphins. My parents adopted one online last year for her.” His voice faded as the thought of what might have happened to them washed over him.

  “I’m sure they are fine,” Emma muttered, without much conviction. She was just as worried about her family.

  They watched as Bachman swam through the frolicking creatures and headed toward the boat.

  “I have no idea why they would have them down here?” Peter mused to change the subject away from their families.

  “Maybe because everyone loves dolphins, and they are supposed to relieve stress, and all that kind of New Age crap. Maybe they thought if people started getting depressed – cabin fever – then they could come and swim with them, or watch them play?”

  They watched as Bachman climbed aboard the boat, dragging his wet body over the side.

  The pink dolphins bobbed up and down in the water, clicking and whistling, as if they are intrigued as to what the human is up to.

  Suddenly, the dolphins stopped screeching, and all turned towards another island just to one side of Bachman. Then as one they vanished beneath the water.

  “Oh shit!” Emma whispered when she looked over toward where the dolphins had stared.

  On a causeway that connected Zone 12 to a couple of islands, dozens of tentacled creatures were pouring across and splashing into the water, heading straight for them.

  148

  Terrance, and the others

  On the boat on a river

  Just outside New York City

  The boat was moving away from the dock as it was tossed from side to side by the strong river. The deck was crammed with people. Some he knew, most he didn’t. All were soaking wet and scared.

  This is one strange group; Terrance thought as he watched some of the people head below deck.

  Middle-aged women fighting like pros, with a teenager snapping a creatures neck with her bare hands, and having a boat equipped with a homemade flamethrower and its own personal infected, apparently called Tish? We thought our group had problems.

  His shoulder sagged when he remembered most of his group were dead.

  He looked around to his brother who was stood chatting with the woman called Smokie. As far as he knows, Lindell is all the family he has left in the world.

  He could see Naomi pushing her way past a woman to get below deck.

  Tierra was sat over against the port side, crouched against the wooden side, while hugging her son tight, as she tried to use a soaking wet blanket to cover them both.

  Water sprayed over the side. The river was so ro
ugh it was like being on the open sea – the boat rocked from side to side.

  Terrance has no idea how wide or deep the river is, but he was intrigued by the fact the woman called Smokie told them to head to the island.

  Could it be a safe haven, a location where the infected can’t reach because of the river? How many more are there? A large settlement, with everything we need to survive? Could this be the answer to our prayers?

  He ignored the smell of fish that irritated his nostrils.

  It dawned on him; they left the jeep behind along with the large 50.cal weapon, and the truck and container.

  Rain poured into his eyes, washing down his face.

  The strangers hustled around him, all; it seemed, had jobs to do.

  Lindell made his way across the rocking deck, using the boats tall crane poles to keep his balance.

  “You okay Bro?” Lindell shouted to be heard over the sound of the engine, the rain, and the thunder.

  “Alive! That’s what counts, right?”

  Lindell nodded his agreement, just as a large wave slammed against the port side knocking everyone to the deck.

  149

  Emma, Bachman, and Peter

  On the artificial lake

  Zone 9

  The underground bunker

  Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania

  “Faster!” Emma shouted as she watched Bachman speed towards them in the boat, as the engine’s propeller sprayed water into the air from the aft section.

  Bachman knelt down in the boat, with a hand upon the engine pole, steering toward the other two.

  Emma could see the tentacled creatures thrashing into the water behind Bachman. On land, they seemed chaotic in their movements, but in the water they calmed down and seemed to glide. A group was surging across the water toward them as if they were designed for aquatic surroundings not terra firma.

  Peter was hopping up and down like a child, as if he needed to take a pee. He turned this way and that, as if unsure whether to wait for the boat, or run for his life. However, apart from going back into Zone 10, the only other option was to jump into the water.

  “Hurry! Hurry!” Peter shouted.

  There was a sound behind them.

  Emma spun around, just as a tentacle lashed through the hatch they climbed out of.

  “FUCK!” She fell backwards into the water with a slash.

  Peter spun around.

  Black tentacles twisted and thrashed. The creature was too large to fit through the hatch – but it was trying, and it was persistent. It seemed to have no pain receptors, as black blood oozed down the metal as it started to squash its body through the small opening.

  Peter stood right on the edge of the platform, just out of reach.

  Emma gripped the edge, while spluttering out water.

  The sound of the boat was getting louder.

  “Help me out!” Emma shouted at Peter.

  Peter knelt, and gripped her arm, and tried to pull her up onto the platform.

  Behind the creature must have pulled itself through further, because a tentacle slapped across Peters back.

  Peter jumped forward, splashing into the water beside Emma. As he went down, he slammed his head on the metal ledge, knocking him unconscious. He floated face down in the water. Blood flowed from his cracked skull.

  150

  Alex, and the others

  On the boat on a river

  Just outside New York City

  Alex climbed back to his unsteady feet, and stood close to Terrance.

  The boat must have hit a floating tree or something, or that was a large wave?

  Alex heard the conversation. He knew they were heading toward an island of some kind.

  A safe haven. Somewhere we don’t have to constantly look over our shoulders. Check every corner. Suspect everyone. Live in constant fear.

  The rain washed down over him, along with waves breaking over the side of the boat. Lightning flashed, and thunder roared. The boat dipped and rose as if on a violent ocean.

  However, unlike an ocean, the river had banks that the boat could smash into on either side, and apparently large floating chunks of debris.

  He has no idea how the captain was steering; Alex couldn’t see more than a couple of meters because of the hard rain.

  Radar, maybe?

  Alex’s stomach was churning. He couldn’t recollect the last time he was on a boat.

  Years?

  Vague images of the waterways around Manhattan sprung to mind. However, he wasn’t sure if it was from personal memory or something he watched on the TV as a child. He couldn’t imagine his father wasting money on a boat ride when he could spend it in a card game.

  In Alex’s confused state, everything blurred together.

  He quickly turned and threw up over the side. Vomit dribbled down his face. The rain washed it away. He didn’t care. Sick was the least of his worries.

  He could hear shouting over the sound of the crashing water and thunder. Behind, someone else was arguing. He was too tired to turn around.

  Let them fight. What do I care if they scream at each other?

  He was so exhausted. Everything was catching up with him. Days of running, people dying, and constantly having to fight for his life. A lifetime of misery condensed. He was too young to have seen so much death and suffering.

  He now understood why the soldiers returned from war with Post War Syndrome. A person can only witness so much suffering before it starts to affect them on an emotional and physical level.

  The rocking river churned his stomach. He held his breath and closed his eyes.

  The world will never be the same again. Too much has changed. Too many have died. We now know we are not alone – not the only sentient species on the planet. A cruel, evil species, but an organism with the ability to think and plan – to start a war against humanity. A genocide!

  “Watch for the banks!” someone hollered.

  The boat rolled to port.

  A wave crashed over the side and washed over Alex.

  He gripped the wooden panel. He vomited again.

  After everything I have seen, the thing that makes me physically sick is the rocking of the boat, not the partial remains of hundreds of people, exploded all over the walls and floor – blood and entrails dripping.

  A hand gripped Alex’s shoulder.

  “You okay?”

  It sounded like Terrance, but Alex didn’t turn around. Instead he spat bile over the port side.

  “I’m okay!” he shouted over the sound of the storm and waves as he balanced his body on the shifting deck.

  “That’s good,” the voice shouted back, “because I think we have arrived.”

  151

  Naomi, and the others

  On the boat on a river

  Just outside New York City

  “Goddamn boat!” Naomi screamed.

  She had just made her way out of the pouring rain, into the relative warmth of the lower deck, when a wave made her slam against the wall, jarring her shoulder and hitting her head against the bulkhead.

  “I fucking hate boats,” she mumbled as she stomped down the thin corridor, as she shook rain from her hair.

  “Who’re you talking to, love?” a kindly voice asked. It was a plump; older woman stood in one of the cabins, rubbing her grey hair with a towel. Blood drenched her front and arms.

  Naomi ignored her and continued on down toward the end of the corridor and pushed her way into an empty cabin.

  The small room was empty. Four bunks. Two to either side. The top two were full of gear – bags, and loose clothing. The floor was stacked with boxes of tin food.

  Fully clothed, Naomi ducked and slid into the bottom bunk on the left. She dropped her heavy boots onto the blankets.

  The boat rocked and the storm roared, but she ignored it all.

  I haven’t slept properly in days – weeks! Screw everyone else. They can manage without me. They can all get washed off the fucking deck for all
I care.

  She rolled from side to side in the thin bunk. Her wet clothes soaking into the bed sheets.

  More imbeciles. Old people pretending to be young, trying to fight against the creatures. Suicide! We have had our time, now it’s theirs. It’s only a matter of time before we are all wiped away. How do you fight against something that feels no pain, has no emotions, or pity? It’s like fighting deranged politicians.

  The boats rocking made her sway in the bunk. Her wet hair was plastered across her face.

  She could feel the boat slowing down. The engines kicked in, as if to rev backwards to slow the speed. A loud bump and jar almost knocked her out of the bunk.

  I hate this world. I hate the people in it. Time for a change. Time for a new species to take over. Good riddens mankind.

  The door slammed open. Caroline was stood inside the doorway.

  “Wake up bitch! We’ve arrived.”

  152

  Bachman, Emma, and Peter

  On the artificial lake

  Zone 9

  The underground bunker

  Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania

  Bachman couldn’t hear anything above the sound of the roaring propeller. He could see the creatures surging across the water. Ahead, he could see Emma treading water. Peter was face down.

  A mass of thrashing tentacles was also reaching out from the hatch they climbed out of.

  It wasn’t that far to them; he had to cut the speed. They wouldn’t have long before the creatures caught up. They would have to climb aboard as fast as possible.

  He reduced the speed, revving back on the power.

  “Emma!” he shouted over the sound from the engine. The boat glided to a bump beside them.

  “Help me! The idiots knocked himself out,” Emma shouted while trying to keep Peter’s face above the water.

  Bachman gripped Peter’s arm and started to pull him over the boat’s side. He was like a heavy, limp fish.