Genesis (Extinction Book 1)

by Nading, Miranda

  If they had hit the ground head-on, it would have killed them all. As it was, slamming through the trees softened the final impact as the ship dug nose-first into the ground. Once the shrieking cacophony of the damaged craft stopped, Mel pulled her helmet off and tossed it to the floor before hitting the release on her harness.

  Grabbing the red-lensed flashlight from the cubby, she used the subdued light to check out the damage. The console was a smoking mess.

  Ringing, loud as a fire alarm, filled her ears as she struggled over the center console to get to the back of the bird. Eagle sat motionless at his surveillance board. The harness that had held Gunny as he fired his flares was empty. She shook her head to clear it and rubbed the tender flesh next to her ears. The ringing was fading, but not fast enough. It would mask the approach of soldiers if they were near.

  Kicking the release on Eagle’s chair, she spun him around. Part of his harness had given way, letting him slam into the console. Blood covered the lower half of his face, his nose was twisted out of true. She felt for a pulse and when she found it, pulled his headgear off and smacked him.

  Groaning, Eagle leaned forward, one hand moving toward his broken nose while the other grabbed tight to his thigh, where a piece of steel an inch and a half wide stuck out of his leg. “What the fu—”

  “Ssshhhh!” Mel clamped a hand over his mouth. The Red Army had to have seen where they crashed. If they weren’t already close, they would be soon. “Can you walk?”

  “Not with the new body piercing.”

  Mel grabbed the Leatherman from her belt and cut off a swath of harness. She tied it just above the skewer, grabbed the metal and said, “On the count of three.”

  In the dim red light she saw his jaw muscles bunch as he clenched it tight. After a quick nod of his head, Mel grabbed the metal and said, “One…” before pulling it free.

  He didn’t scream. For that she was thankful. He did, however, lurch forward and puke on her pant leg. Thinking about Gunny, the way he had walked on his dislocated knee sixteen years before with barely a limp, tears slid down her cheeks. She would have teased Eagle about being a girl, but she was pretty sure if she’d been in his position, she would have screamed and passed out.

  Releasing what little harness was still holding him, she grabbed him by the front of his flight suit and hauled him to his feet. “We’ve got to move. Now.”

  With Eagle’s arm around her neck, they got across the cabin. Mel pulled him to a stop at the gun door and Gunny’s empty harness. There was no damage, no broken straps, nothing.

  His words, whispered over and over again during the past six months came back to haunt her. She didn’t think he’d actually abandon her. “Damn you, Gunny!” she hissed. Shoving the flashlight into Eagle’s hand, she pulled the release from the ceiling and threw the harness across the cabin.

  “Mel, what’s going on?” Eagle whispered.

  “Gunny’s dead. He didn’t strap in and fell out of the bird when I lost control of it.”

  “But he—”

  She grabbed his face and turned it to hers. “He’s dead.”

  Before he could argue, she shoved him out the door. Eagle tucked and rolled, protecting his injured leg and she landed beside him. When he was back on his feet, his arm around her shoulders, she pulled her sidearm. “The extraction team is probably already on its way. We need to get to the southern coast.”

  Mel dragged Eagle into the jungle, getting out of the chew path left by the Black Hawks rotors. The lush underbrush made moving both fast and quiet impossible. Exertion and high nighttime temperatures had them both soaked with sweat in a matter of minutes. The saturated air prevented the sweat from evaporating to cool them down.

  They had been on the move fifteen minutes when Mel froze, dropped to her knees next to a Balau tree and pulled Eagle down beside her. Somewhere in the darkness, another twig snapped.

  There was a chance she was wrong about Gunny, a chance he hadn’t taken the opportunity to go AWOL. A chance he was out there now, keeping an eye on them, covering their six as they made their way to the extraction point.

  She couldn’t be sure and she couldn’t risk being wrong. Moving in front of Eagle, she put most of her weight on her back knee, using the other leg as a stand to balance and pivot if she needed to. With a two-handed grip on the gun, she tried to track where the sound had come from.

  It was useless. As they sat quietly, the jungle around them became a symphony of nocturnal sounds. The buzzing of bugs, the rustle of leaves – it was impossible to distinguish a man from a Bushbaby.

  A darker shadow among dark shadows moved to her left. She pivoted, but held her fire. If the soldiers were already out there, surrounding them, it was all over but the crying. If it was just her over-active imagination, she didn’t want to draw soldiers to them.

  More movement to her right. She spun and took aim at nothing.

  Disoriented, she registered Eagle go down beside her before she heard the shot or even realized she was returning fire. Lights flashed in the darkness and gun smoke filled the air. The tree behind her took hit after hit, spraying bark and pulp into the air, before she finally felt the punch of a round in her chest.

  Slammed against the tree, gasping for air, the gun fell from her hand. Shadows moved on all sides, growing, lengthening, becoming men holding assault rifles aimed at her head before she welcomed her own escape into darkness.

  4

  “The new President has been sworn in,” Ling shook his head. “How many does that make for us now? Five? Six?”

  “Too many,” Mittie Kate smiled. “I should have been there.”

  Ling gave her his famous sideways grin. “We are relics, you and I. They may still need the likes of us, but they will not openly admit it.”

  “He should have been here by now.” Mittie Kate took another sip of the coffee, grimaced and set it aside. Fifteen minutes had passed since they were supposed to meet Nikoli Andropov. Scanning the frozen grounds around the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, worse-case scenarios played out in her head.

  Since arriving in Russia, they had sat at the park bench across from the cathedral every day during the lunch hour. After three days, the stares reserved for awkward tourists ceased. Now, when Nikoli approached them, it wouldn’t bring unwanted attention.

  Suspicion bloomed around everyone who passed, with every minute Nikoli’s arrival was delayed. Tall women in high-heeled boots and waist-flattering fur coats walked gracefully through the ice and snow. Men wearing big fur hats moved from one place to another, confident, unhurried – especially the soldiers who patrolled the streets in pairs.

  Mittie watched them all with a suspicious eye, one that grew more determined to find fault in their body language and whispered conversations as time passed. She kept herself from squirming by sheer force of will, knowing she’d feel better after he approached them.

  If he approached them.

  Ling looked up from his tablet as a pair of patrolling soldiers walked by. “Traffic out of the university will be harrowing this time of day. Have patience.”

  She turned, ready to begin their old sparring argument about her lack of self-control when she realized his usually smooth face looked pinched, his brow creased. “What’s wrong?”

  “I have been unable to contact our agents in China and South Korea.”

  “Their bio-monitors?”

  “There was some discontinuity while we were in the airplane, but they are stable and strong.”

  “What about Dubai?” Mittie Kate asked.

  “You know Max.” Ling grinned and his features softened. A friendship had developed between the two men after leaving Mexico. It was an odd mix and an unusual friendship, but it pleased her to know there was at least one person in his wretched world that Max could call friend. “He is miserable, as always.”

  “Let me guess,” she laughed. “He hates Dubai.”

  Nodding, Ling said, “Though he says that he cannot possibly explain how much, I beli
eve he did a fairly good job of getting his point across.”

  A young couple in matching sable fur walked arm-in-arm through the gates of the cathedral. Mittie shook her head. “I have a bad feeling, Ling.”

  “I told you not to eat the Varanyky last night.”

  “It was delicious, but I’m talking about Nikoli.”

  Ling pretended to gaze at his tablet, but a quick glance told Mittie Kate he had locked the display and he was stealing surreptitious glances at everyone who walked by.

  “Alright,” Mittie Kate nudged him in the ribs. “Quit with the Zen ‘I Am One With My Tablet’ crap. You feel it, too.”

  The corner of his mouth tweaked up in something that could have been a smile, but he put his tablet away. “Agreed. I’m not sure if it is Nikoli’s tardiness, or my failure to contact our other agents.”

  “So what can we do about it?”

  Ling turned and met her eyes, laying his arm across the top of the bench behind her as if they were nothing more than lovers on a sightseeing trip. “I chose this location because it is close to Nikoli’s apartment, and because he frequents the cathedral. Perhaps we should pay him a visit.”

  “That will blow our chance encounter ruse all the hell and gone.”

  “Yes.”

  Mittie Kate sighed. “Yes? That’s all you’re going to give me. Yes?”

  “You get into messes and make mischief; I pull you out of it. Such is my purpose in life. So…yes.”

  “Plausible deniability, huh?”

  “Absolutely.” Ling smiled and stood up, offering Mittie Kate his arm. “If this turns into one of your famous catastrophes, I will have the moral high ground to say, ‘I knew this was a bad idea’.”

  Mittie laughed and took his arm, letting him guide her to the sidewalk. “I’ve been wondering how you always manage to say ‘I told you so’ without actually telling me first.”

  “Secret Tibetan training,” he laughed and held her close, to keep her from slipping on the ice. “I could tell you how it is done—”

  “—but you’d have to kill me.”

  “Yes.”

  “In that case, just keep pulling my tuckus out of the fire.”

  “With pleasure.” Ling led her around the corner. “Second building on the other side of the street. Third floor apartment in the front, right quadrant.”

  The red brick matched that which was used at the cathedral, showing its true age. A historic building, well maintained. “Nicer than I would have expected on a professors’ salary. Even with the stipend we pay him for his services.”

  Ling nodded his head and added, “There’s a sign near the entrance. They have apartments for rent.”

  Pulling Ling to a stop as a pair of soldiers walked by, Mittie turned to survey the other buildings and pointed to similar signs. Loud enough to be heard by the soldiers, she said, “This would be a lovely area to live. Perhaps we should look into a few of these buildings.”

  “Let’s start with this one,” Ling offered, stepping into the new role of home buyer. “I like the arched front entrance.”

  Careful not to slip on the compacted snow and ice, they crossed the street and Ling hit the call button. A man’s deep bass voice came through the speaker and Ling responded in flawless Russian. “Which apartments are available for rent?”

  “6A, 3 and 4 B, and 7C”

  Mittie Kate leaned in and whispered, “C sounds like the third level.”

  Ling pressed the speaker button again. “We would like to see apartment 7C, please.”

  A buzzer sounded and the door clicked open. “Come to 2A.”

  Used to a little more courtesy from people looking to take her money, Mittie Kate said, “Not much on small talk, I guess.”

  Ling grinned and pulled the door open for her. “It is the cold. If we stayed here much longer, my disposition would suffer as well.”

  “You have a disposition?”

  Ling steered her down the hall to the right. “Yes. It is quiet elegance.”

  “Is that what you call it?” Mittie Kate shook her head as he knocked on the door. “I thought it was pedantic jackass.”

  Ling turned, one eyebrow arched, and the quirky smile that said he had a ready and waiting retort made an appearance. Before he could speak the door opened and a typical towering Russian man in sweats and a soiled white t-shirt stepped into the hall. “Follow me.”

  As they turned to follow, Mittie Kate shot a look at Ling that said she had gotten the last word for a change, and she liked it. The wicked look he returned as they walked up the stairs told her it wasn’t over. She tilted her chin up and raised her eyebrows to say it was over, deal with it. As his eyes grew wide, she stifled a laugh and increased her pace to put herself between the apartment manager and Ling.

  Opening the door to 7C, the manager stepped inside and to the right to let them pass. The view from the large floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the building was spectacular and Mittie Kate was drawn to it. The floor space was open, framed by intricately carved wood that garnished the trim and crown molding.

  Ling moved straight to the kitchen, admiring the stainless steel appliances and chef’s top oven. “How much?”

  “80,000 rubles.”

  “We would like to discuss it. Can we meet you back at 2A when we’ve made a decision?”

  The manager bristled. “I could have stayed in my apartment instead of coming up here, if you had said something sooner.”

  “We appreciate the effort.” Ling offered the manager his most charming smile and a wad of rubles. “We’ll be down shortly.”

  The manager’s eyes lit up as he took the money. He left without so much as a thank you, closing the door behind him. Ling followed, listening at the door. He nodded to indicate the man had gone and Mittie Kate asked, “What’s the conversion on 80,000 rubles?”

  “Around 1,500 U.S.”

  “Our Nikoli was living beyond his means.”

  Ling nodded and eased the door open to look down the hall. “At least the means that we are aware of.”

  Leaving the door cracked for easy entrance if they needed it, they moved down the hall to 4C. No answer came from Ling’s soft knock. Slipping a set of small thin rods out of his pocket, he worked the lock until it released. Artic air flowed from the narrow opening and Mittie Kate looked to Ling to see if he shared her dread.

  In answer to her questioning gaze, Ling pulled his small caliber handgun from its hiding place. When she had done the same, he stood to the side and eased the door open.

  Mittie Kate leaned out for the briefest glimpse and ducked back behind the cover the wall provided. It was just a glance, but it was enough to see the apartment had been ransacked, furniture broken and papers strewn about as if whoever had searched the place hadn’t had an easy job of finding what they had been looking for.

  Ling glanced down the hallway in both directions and stepped inside and to the right. Mittie Kate followed, easing the door closed behind them, and moved to the left. The apartment was massive, containing a separate kitchen and dining room, two bedrooms and two baths.

  They found Nikoli in the master bathroom, floating beneath a thin layer of ice and frozen blood. Mittie Kate looked at Ling and he was on the move even before she spoke. “Find it.”

  Like the other agents, Nikoli had been implanted with a bio-monitor. An alarm should have sounded through Ling’s data pad, as soon as Nikoli’s vital signs left their normal patterns. If the monitor was still showing he was alive and well, they had to assume the other agents they’d lost contact with were also dead.

  While Ling searched the body, Mittie Kate eased toward the windows until she could get a view of the street. Two new black Suburbans, windows tinted so dark they were almost black, pulled to the curb. It was a non-military vehicle, but the high boots and long great coats of the men who stepped out said otherwise. She didn’t recognize the ranking bands on their greatcoats, but the braided gold epaulettes on the shoulders of an officer made her heart stutt
er. “Ling, we need to go.”

  As they hit the hallway, heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. Grateful they had left the door open to the empty apartment, Mittie Kate moved to one side of the room and Ling to the other only moments before the door burst open.

  Ling’s hands froze in the air where he was pretending to mimic placement of pictures on the wall, while Mittie Kate pantomimed telling him to move to the left or right, up and down. The men looked from one to the other, uncertain of how to proceed until the Russian officer stepped inside. “Your papers.”

  Moving slowly, Ling reached into his jacket and removed their passports. “What is this about?”

  Instead of answering, the officer handed their papers back to a subordinate who pulled out a cellphone. “When will you leave Russia?”

  Mittie Kate looked to Ling, letting her concern and fear show through. Though she would never admit it to Ling unless called on it, she couldn’t remember which identities he had chosen for the trip. If the officer asked her for her name, they would be undone. Better he saw her fear and let Ling handle the discussions.

  “Tomorrow evening.” Ling somehow maintained his Zen-like calm and Mittie Kate could have kissed him. “We are planning to tour your Museum of State History tomorrow morning.”

  The subordinate passed their papers back to the officer and whispered in his ear. For the briefest of moments, confusion and bitter disappointment seemed to war on the old man’s face. It was gone just as fast, leaving Mittie Kate wondering if she had seen it at all.

  He continued to stare at Ling for a moment longer, before handing their passports back. “Why are you here, in this building?”

  “We are considering countries to retire to. The neighborhood is nice, and there are many buildings with apartments for rent here that we intend to look at. If that is a problem, we will leave it for another time.”

  The officer remained quiet, studying them both. Two more soldiers joined them from the outside and held a whispered conversation with the officer before he at last turned to them. “I suggest you do. You are free to leave. These men will escort you out.”