The Tide: Ghost Fleet (Tide Series Book 7)

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  “The college was already fitted with buildings, walls, and gates,” Buckley explained. “It made a good defensive point in the middle of the city. Plus, plenty of residences to provide temporary housing for our men and women. Most of the city was burned out during the first weeks of the outbreak, but the college endured.”

  “Please tell me the Guinness Storehouse made it,” O’Neil said.

  “It’s one of the first things we saved,” Buckley said with a wink. “But not for the stout. Truth is, the Storehouse draws in water from outside Dublin. It’s a fair bit cleaner than the River Liffey.”

  Buckley escorted Dom, O’Neil, and Meredith past the famous Trinity College Library, which had evidently been turned into a command hive. Officers marched in and out of the building, talking with animated gestures. Dom almost hoped they would be hosting their meeting in the library—he had heard it was an inspiration for a certain book and movie series about a school for wizards that Sadie and Kara loved. Instead, Buckley took them to a lecture hall in the Biomedical Sciences Institute at the edge of the campus. It was a fitting setting for what they had to discuss.

  There were already dozens of officers gathered in the lecture hall when they arrived. Buckley stood behind a podium and, once he had everyone’s attention, motioned to Dom.

  “This is the man that’s come to tell us what we’re going to face. He has killed more Skulls than there were tourists in Temple Bar. Listen carefully. You think we’ve faced Skulls before, but by the Americans’ estimates, we’re looking at a concentrated invasion of anywhere from two to twenty thousand Skulls coming through our port. We may be the last line of defense between Ireland and utter destruction.”

  There were no murmurs of shock or despair, just a stone-cold silence as Dom took the stage.

  “What you are about to face is the most relentless army you have ever seen. They will surrender to nothing but annihilation.” Dom figured most of these men must know something about the Skulls by now, but all the same, he detailed their basic weaknesses. There weren’t many. Armor-piercing rounds or shots to their weakest points—their joints, necks, and faces. Some of the faces in the audience twisted in disgust when he described the acid-spewing Droolers and their corroded, broken bodies. The effect doubled when he discussed the monstrous Goliaths and the even more frightening Titans.

  He hadn’t seen any Titans since the Congo. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t warn them. Finally, he introduced the Hybrids.

  “These guys are what you really need to look for. They’ve got all the traits of a Skull, but they’re still very much human.” Dom gestured to O’Neil. “There is no better way to learn about them than by hearing from one firsthand.”

  When O’Neil stood before the Irish Defense Force leaders, there were audible gasps. At first he looked uncertainly about the room. But he was the best man for the job, so he squared his bone-plated shoulders and began.

  “The first thing you got to know about Hybrids is they don’t feel pain like a normal person,” O’Neil said. “They’ve got the armor of a Skull and the nerve endings of a veteran mixed-martial-arts fighter who’s been hit in the face one too many times. I’m one of the unlucky experimental versions they hadn’t yet perfected. The ones you’re going to face are a very different story.”

  O’Neil displayed his claws to the room. “These things will rip out your guts before you can squeeze a trigger. And more often than not, the guys they make into Hybrids will do exactly that just because they can. They carry guns, but they like being up close and personal. But the most terrible thing about these bastards is their ability to influence Skulls. The FGL has been working on this for a long time. The Hybrids can rile Skulls up. They can direct them in battle. They don’t have perfect control over them, though—more like cowboys herding cattle. So if you want to screw with the enemy’s battle plans, it’s the bastards that look like me you have to go after.”

  After O’Neil finished, Meredith joined him to explain the medical precautions they could take in the field. Four container ships of Skulls descending on Dublin meant someone was going to get scratched. All the effort the military had poured into Dublin would be wasted if the Agent spread within the city’s newly established garrison. Dom had no delusions that they alone could stop all four ships from reaching the city. It would be dangerous enough taking out one or two before they arrived. The Huntress would be especially vulnerable, and as a result, so would be the city.

  Dom noticed a noncom enter from the back of the hall. He marched up to Buckley and whispered something in the man’s ear. Buckley motioned to Dom.

  When Dom joined him, Buckley said, “The enemy is here.”

  ***

  Meredith shifted uneasily in the Seahawk’s seat. It hadn’t taken long for her, Dom, and O’Neil to return to the Huntress and outfit themselves for another incursion onto one of the FGL’s Skull ships. But the ships had entered their range sooner than expected.

  “I guess they couldn’t wait for us to destroy them,” Miguel said.

  “They enjoy the fireworks show as much as I do,” Andris said. He patted his tac vest, where he stored his C4. “I am very much looking forward to sending them to the bottom of the ocean.”

  Meredith didn’t share their excitement. “They’re a whole day early. I hope Kinsey isn’t deliberately feeding us false intel.” Dom didn’t voice an opinion, but Meredith imagined he felt the same as her. After all, the first time Kinsey had sent them on a mission, his aim had been to betray them and take the Huntress. Back then, he had believed the Hunters were the bioterrorists responsible for the Oni Agent. They’d set the record straight, but Kinsey still didn’t seem to trust them. The Hunters paid his distrust back in kind, no matter how much Shepherd reassured them that Kinsey was on their side.

  “The FGL’s on to us,” Jenna said, checking the magazine for her rifle. “They’re pushing their timeline forward, hoping to catch us unprepared.”

  “Then they don’t know the Hunters very well, do they?” Spencer asked.

  Their confidence was reassuring, but the fact that their intel had been proven wrong was not. And as they neared the container ships, they realized the accelerated timeline wasn’t the only issue. While one of the ships was packed full of containers, the other three had, from Meredith’s estimate, only a third of what they usually carried.

  “Why didn’t they send a full load?” she asked.

  “Maybe they didn’t have enough containers and Skulls to fill four ships,” Glenn offered.

  “Either way, we’re going for the fully loaded ship,” Dom said. “The more Skulls we can take out before they reach Dublin, the better.”

  Meredith grabbed hold of the rappelling cord and clipped on her carabineer. Beside her, Andris and Jenna prepared to disembark.

  “Please exit the aircraft in an orderly manner,” Frank said. “Luggage pickup is courtesy of your friendly Skull attendants today. If you see one, thank them with a bullet to their head.”

  “Bravo, go,” Dom said.

  Meredith slid down the rope. The warm air of the rotor wash blasted over her. She hit the deck and cleared out of the way as Andris and Jenna touched down beside her. Quickly, they took positions behind cover, searching for any Hybrids or FGL human soldiers.

  “We’re in position.” Meredith scanned their surroundings with her rifle. By now, they usually had dispatched a few Hybrids and FGL goons. There was no way the helicopter had gone unnoticed. Something wasn’t right here. “No contacts. Ready when you are.”

  Alpha team hit the deck next.

  “Are they so desperate they’re just sending out ships full of Skulls without a support crew?” Jenna asked tentatively.

  “Seems a bit rash,” Glenn said.

  “Keep your guard up,” Dom said. “They might have an ambush planned.” Then he looked to Miguel. “You got a reading on any explosives?”

  Miguel lowered his rifle and pulled back his sleeves. He unlatched a panel on his prosthetic left arm and ac
cessed one of the many tools Chao had outfitted him with. If Meredith remembered correctly, this one dated back to the start of the outbreak. They’d boarded an abandoned oil rig where Miguel’s trace explosives detection device had warned them of an impending disaster.

  Had the FGL laid a similar trap for the Hunters here? It seemed as viable an explanation as any. Lure them down to the ship as usual, then let the whole thing erupt into a ball of flames. Meredith held her breath as Miguel studied the readout.

  “I’ve got nothing,” Miguel said at last. “At least not down here.”

  “That’s strange,” O’Neil said. “I’ve also got nothing.” He sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring. Despite all the times Meredith had worked beside O’Neil, she still wasn’t used to having the half-man, half-Skull on her side. When he went into predator mode like this, it highlighted the drastic differences between him and the rest of the Hunters even more. The spines along his shoulders and joints bristled, and his eyes narrowed before he finally turned back to Dom. “There are definitely hints of Skulls here. But usually their smell is more concentrated.”

  He rapped on one of the containers with his claws. Normally that would have elicited at least a growl from the Skulls packed within. This time the sound rang out hollowly.

  “It’s empty,” Meredith said. “Are they all empty?”

  “I don’t think so,” O’Neil said. “They’re on here somewhere.”

  “Frank?” Dom called. “Stay close. We might need a fast extraction. Bravo, take the engine room as usual. Alpha, we’re going for the bridge. If something funny is going on, it might be worth our while to figure out how and why.”

  Meredith started to lead Andris and Jenna away from the group. She felt a pair of eyes on her neck and stole a glance back. Dom gave a her a subtle nod.

  Be careful, he seemed to be saying. He would worry about her as they took their teams through disparate parts of the ship. And Dom would haunt her thoughts, too. The hazards of running ops with people you had an intimate relationship with... well, there was a reason Meredith had never dated at the Agency.

  They made it to a hatch that revealed a set of ladders leading into the belly of the behemoth ship. She thought she heard something click against metal down one of the passages. But nothing moved—or pounced—in the silence that followed.

  Onward they went, passing hissing pipes and rust-pocked bulkheads. At first, the only sounds were the long groans and creaks of the ship’s internal structure shifting and expanding. Air blew through ventilation ducts, and a rhythmic clunking resounded down another corridor as they neared the engine room.

  Then another sound pierced the chorus of the rumbling ship. A staccato tap-tap-tap.

  Like rats running through the ducts, Meredith thought.

  “Anyone have eyes?” she asked.

  “I heard that, too,” Jenna said, “but I haven’t seen anything.”

  As they approached the engine room, the deafening noise of machinery confronted them. The hatch was wide open.

  “Usually they keep that thing shut,” Jenna said.

  “I do not like this,” Andris said, pressing the stock of his rifle tight against his shoulder.

  “Me neither,” Meredith said. This was always the part she hated most in Bravo team’s assignments. The closer they got to the engines, the less chance they would have of hearing an approaching Skull or soldier. “Andris, take the hatch.”

  The Hunter sprinted there while Jenna and Meredith covered him.

  “Clear,” Andris reported.

  Meredith crept through the hatch. The explosive din of the engine room hit her full force. She swiveled on her heels, looking to identify potential threats. Her heart caught in her throat. Her eyes fell on a sight that did not belong. Long silver gouges marred one of the generators. Gouges that could have only been caused by claws raking over the metal.

  She indicated the marks with a flick of her fingers. Andris gestured to say he saw it, and Jenna seemed about ready to respond in kind. Then her eyes went wide. Meredith spun to see what had caught Jenna’s attention.

  There, between the stanchions stretching from ceiling to deck, stood a Skull. The remains of military-issued fatigues hung from its jutting spikes. One of its eyes was missing, revealing a reddened, oozing cavity. It held up an arm with only half its fingers remaining; the other arm was missing below its elbow. The Skull opened its mouth to shriek, though the sound was lost in the engine room’s din.

  Then it leapt from its position, charging Jenna. Meredith leapt to help Jenna fend off the bastard before it got to her. But as she did, she saw movement from another corner of the chamber. The shadows shifted and morphed. Something else was in the room. Lots of somethings.

  The charging Skull wasn’t alone.

  -5-

  Dom bounded up the ladders toward the container ship’s bridge. He recoiled when a jarring noise tore through his earpiece. It sounded like Bravo had made it to the engine room. Then there were voices yelling. It was difficult to understand them, but one word was exceedingly clear.

  “Skulls!” Meredith cried out.

  “Bravo, do you read?” he asked. There was no response. He signaled for the rest of Alpha to pause. “Bravo, do you read?”

  Radio silence.

  “God damn it, Mere, say something!”

  The staccato of gunfire broke through the pounding engines and high-pitched shrieks of Skulls. Then the sound faded.

  “I’m here!” Meredith said.

  Dom heaved a sigh of relief. “What’s your situation?”

  “We’ve got Skulls!”

  Never had they run into anything but the standard human soldier and a Hybrid or two wandering near the engine room. Maybe a container had broken during the transit and the Skulls had overwhelmed the crew. He thought that the point of the Hybrids was to prevent exactly that from happening, but if he’d learned anything about the Skulls, it was that they were unpredictable.

  “Bravo, do you need fire support?” Dom asked.

  “Negative,” Meredith replied. “We can handle it.”

  Dom looked to the rest of his team. “I don’t want to be here any longer than we have to be. Let’s move.”

  They positioned themselves around the hatch to the bridge while O’Neil climbed up so he could break through a window. Miguel placed a breaching charge, and the hatch slammed open, tendrils of smoke swirling out. They didn’t enter immediately. Dom preferred to let whoever waited inside for them simmer. Let them wonder why no one had entered through the open hatch yet.

  “I see them moving toward the entrance now,” O’Neil said. “Going in.”

  There was a shatter of glass.

  “Go, go, go!” Dom yelled.

  Miguel and Glenn stood, rifles aimed at the open hatch. The smoke started to clear, and the first enemies charged out.

  But unlike the usual cohort of Hybrids and sailors, the figures that barreled out did not carry firearms. Nor were they human anymore.

  “Skulls!” O’Neil bellowed from inside the bridge. “Shit!”

  Miguel riddled the first Skull with gunfire. Bone chips and flesh flew from the others as Glenn, Spencer, and Dom joined in the salvo. More of them barreled out, snarling and growling. Their claws raked the air, desperate to tear into flesh. Red holes peppered their armor under the onslaught of rounds. The creatures fell in waves, but still they did not stop.

  One of the Skulls dragged itself toward Dom. Blood dribbled from its lips. It wore a jacket with the insignia that meant it had once been a captain. Now gore and grime covered its once-white jacket. Huge hooked spikes rose from its spine and pierced the back of its clothes. Claw by claw, it pulled itself toward Dom, its legs broken and bleeding.

  Dom planted one of his boots into the Skull’s forehead to stop it, then fired. The former captain fell still. A moment later, the shooting stopped.

  At first, with the absence of gunfire, Dom figured they had finished off all the Skulls camped out in the bridge. But then
the rattle of bone plates and the scratch of claws against metal rang out. Shrieks and growls exploded from beyond the hatch. Dom hurdled the crumpled bodies of the Skulls.

  His rifle roved over the terminals and chart table. Shards of broken glass littered the deck, sparkling under the hazy light filtering in through the grime-covered windows. Toward the rear of the room, a tangle of Skulls ripped at their prey.

  “O’Neil!” Dom shouted.

  Amid the tangle of limbs, it was near impossible to tell where O’Neil ended and the monsters attacking him began. Dom couldn’t risk spraying gunfire at the mob; O’Neil would end up just as much of a bullet-sponge as the Skulls. O’Neil was strong. But he wasn’t strong enough to face a dozen Skulls alone. His ability to affect any mood changes in the Skulls was also directly related to his ability to concentrate. There wasn’t much time to focus when six-inch claws were swinging in front of your face.

  Dom unsheathed his knife. He tore back the head of the first Skull he ran into and plunged the blade deep into the flesh beneath the Skull’s chin. The blade caught on a plate of bone before Dom shoved it in harder, digging into the creature’s brain. The Skull fell still in his arms even as two more turned from O’Neil to attack.

  Miguel rushed the closest. He twisted his prosthetic arm, and a blade shot out, embedding itself into the Skull’s orbital cavity. “Got your back, Chief.”

  With roars to rival the Skulls, Glenn and Spencer crashed into the fray like a pair of human wrecking balls. Alpha team parried claws and delivered devastating blows. But what the Skulls lacked in organization, they made up for in sheer ferocity and numbers.

  A knife between the Skull’s shoulder plates didn’t stop the bastard Dom was now fighting. Instead, the beast only grew more ferocious. It bared its curved fangs and lunged, claws extended. Dom tried to withdraw his knife, but it was stuck deep.