Extinction Horizon (The Extinction Cycle Book 1)

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  Hesitating, she waited for the others, the blades of the Blackhawk making a final rotation above her before slowing to a stop. She used the moment to study the buildings surrounding the tarmac. She counted a total of six of the white domed structures. All of them had the mark of the USAMRIID.

  The screech of tires pulled her back to the tarmac, where two Humvees had stopped in front of them. The doors clicked open, and four men in CRBN suits jumped onto the concrete. Each of them held a rifle.

  “It’s all right,” Beckham said. “Just follow their orders.”

  Kate nodded slowly, trying to control her breathing. She couldn’t see the faces of the men behind their visors, which made her feel even worse.

  One of them stepped out of the group and took five steps toward the chopper, where he stopped and raised a hand. “Everyone stay put.” He swept a flashlight over Beckham’s blood-soaked uniform. “Why aren’t you wearing suits?”

  “Command—” Beckham started to reply when the lead soldier angled his light into the operator’s eyes.

  “Stay put,” he said in a deliberately low and calm voice. “I’m Major Sean Smith. Everyone remain calm and we will get you through the decontamination procedures as quickly as possible. Before we start, will Dr. Michael Allen please come forward?”

  Beckham shot Kate a cursory glance, locking eyes with her for a second before turning back to the officer.

  “He didn’t make it out of Atlanta,” Beckham said grimly.

  The response made no visible impact on Smith. After a short pause he said, “Please form a single file line and don’t touch one another.”

  Another Humvee tore across the tarmac, skidding to a stop somewhere behind the chopper. Kate assumed their job was to make sure the Blackhawk was decontaminated.

  Smith asked a series of questions about how she and the others were feeling and if they were experiencing any hallucinations or pain.

  “I’m fine,” Beckham replied. “We are all fine. None of us are experiencing any symptoms. None of us are infected.”

  “I’m asking everyone, Sergeant. Not just you,” Smith replied.

  Beckham held up a hand. “Okay, sir.”

  After they had all replied with satisfactory responses, he led them toward the first of the dome-shaped buildings.

  Two armed guards stood outside, their machine guns at the ready. Above them a small floodlight illuminated a USAMRIID sign.

  “This is the decon facility,” Smith said. “Inside you will go through a rigorous process to ensure you are not infected.”

  Kate raised her hand. “Where’s the rest of the CDC been relocated?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have access to that information, Doctor…?”

  “Lovato. Dr. Kate Lovato,” she replied.

  “I don’t understand. Who’s in charge of this island?” Ellis said.

  “The United States Army,” Smith responded without hesitating. “There’s plenty of time to explain later, but for now the most important thing is ensuring you aren’t infected. Please,” he said, gesturing toward the building with a hand. “Doctors Lovato and Ellis will go first. Team Ghost will follow.”

  A cool breeze blew a strand of hair into Kate’s eyes. She brushed it away and looked for Beckham’s approval. He’d saved her and Ellis, and he'd done his best to save Michael and Kurt.

  The man offered her a nod and then looked away. Beckham seemed skeptical. His gaze scrutinized their surroundings. Was he thinking the same thing she was? That there was more to the facility than met the eye?

  She followed Major Smith toward the decon chambers, but paused at the entrance. A chill ran through her when she saw flames licking the horizon behind them. New York City was burning.

  -14-

  A lean African-American officer waited on the steps outside the decontamination facility.

  “Welcome to Plum Island. I’m Lieutenant Colonel Jensen,” he said. He reached out and shook Beckham’s hand first with a powerful grip.

  The master sergeant was still shaking from the cold shower and chemicals he’d endured during decon, and the distant roar of jets and explosions echoing through the night sent chills down his spine. He never thought he’d hear the sounds of war on their home turf.

  After brief introductions, Team Ghost followed the two Medical Corps officers away from the decontamination building, talking as they walked.

  “Bombing our own cities?” Riley asked.

  Smith stopped in his tracks and massaged the wedding ring on his finger. “None of you know, do you?”

  Beckham cleared his throat from the rear of the group. “Know what?”

  “The President has declared Martial Law nationwide. The Medical Corps is in charge of Operation Reaper.”

  “What the hell is Operation Reaper?” Riley asked.

  Jensen crossed his arms and with a stern face said, “The fight to save the country.”

  “Necessary sacrifice to stop the spread of the virus,” Smith added. “With strategic bombing, civilian casualties will be kept to a minimum.”

  “Those bombs didn’t look strategic to me,” Horn said.

  “The virus is spreading too fast,” Jensen replied. “The military is doing everything it can to limit loss of life.”

  Riley jumped in, “How is this thing spreading so fast?”

  “Incubation period ranges from minutes to hours,” Smith replied in the same calculated tone. “Once we get you to the barracks, you will receive a full briefing.”

  “Barracks?” Horn asked. Even in the dim light Beckham could see the man’s cheeks reddening.

  “Plum Island is now on lock down. Only evacuees with the highest level of clearance will be authorized to land here. You guys are lucky as hell. You were the last bird in before the lockdown.”

  Horn immediately stepped forward. “Better check on that, because we're headed back to Fort Bragg.”

  Jensen shot Horn a strict glare and then said, “I need to brief the CDC doctors you evacuated earlier. Major Smith will escort you to the barracks.”

  “Yes, sir,” Smith said. He swept a finger over his nose and watched Jensen hurry off toward another building before regarding Horn with a smirk. “You heard the man. Your orders are to head where you're told to head and stay put where you're told to stay put. No one’s allowed in or out now without authorization.”

  Beckham watched Horn’s face turn cherry red. He knew the look well. Horn was about to explode.

  Taking a deep breath, Horn took a second, guarded step toward the man. With his chest swelling, he leaned closer until he was face to face with the officer.

  “My family is waiting at Fort Bragg, so we are leaving,” Horn replied. “And no one is going to stop us.”

  “Command will have to authorize that.” Stepping back, Smith folded and said, “Follow me.”

  Beckham spat on the ground. “Let’s go.”

  Horn hesitated, his features forming a mask of frustration.

  “Staff Sergeant Parker Horn. That’s an order,” Beckham said sternly.

  The operator glared at him and then reached for a cigarette in his chest pocket. “I heard you the first time,” he replied. Snorting in Smith’s face, Horn turned and walked toward the final dome-shaped building.

  A pair of armed soldiers stood guard. They saluted and moved aside. The double steel doors opened to reveal men and women from every branch of the military. The personnel filled the room, some in groups talking in hushed whispers, others huddling around televisions watching the news. Beckham narrowed his eyes, taking in the view quickly. The space was a warehouse of cots and gear. It looked like they were in this for the long haul.

  “Find an empty bed and it’s yours,” Smith said. “There will be a briefing at 2300.” He looked at Horn one more time before leaving.

  Beckham tossed the new gear bag they’d assigned him after decon onto the nearest empty cot and loosened the strap to his new MP5. He placed the weapon on the bed and then looked for Horn. The man’s face
was still red.

  “Listen,” Beckham began to say.

  Horn raised a hand. “Not now, man. Not now.”

  Beckham wouldn’t argue with Horn, not when he was fuming. It was futile. Times like these he still wondered how the man had ever passed the intense psych evaluations required for all Delta Force Operators.

  “Just give him a few minutes,” Riley whispered. He jerked his chin toward a crowd of Marines surrounding a television. “Want to check the news?”

  “Not really,” Beckham replied. He walked with Riley anyway.

  “He’ll be all right,” Riley said when they were out of hearing distance from Horn.

  “Eventually,” Beckham replied. “How are you holding up, kid?”

  Riley fidgeted with his bandana. “Man, this shit is fucked up. I’m worried about my parents. They’re in the dead center of this thing.”

  “Hopefully they made it out of Des Moines before things got really bad.”

  “I sent them an email on day two. Told them to head to my brother’s house in Arkansas. He lives in the country. Real isolated community.”

  “The perfect place to ride this thing out.”

  They maneuvered their way into the crowd of Marines and found a spot to watch the news. Beckham tapped a tall man on the shoulder.

  “What’s CNN say?” he asked.

  The young Marine twisted and offered up a nod.

  “It's the zombie apocalypse. Same thing they’ve been saying for days,” the man said. “You just get here?”

  “Yeah.”

  The man eyed Beckham’s uniform again and stuck out a hand. “I’m Staff Sergeant Johnson.”

  “Master Sergeant Beckham,” he replied, shaking the man’s hand.

  Johnson stiffened a bit and brought his hands to the small of his back. “What brought you here, Master Sergeant? If you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Evac,” Beckham replied. “You?”

  Johnson grinned. “Security. We’re here to keep those things from getting in.”

  Beckham regarded the man with a cocked brow. “You haven’t come face to face with one yet, have you?”

  The smile faded on the man’s face. “No, Master Sergeant.”

  “Find me after you do. See if your opinion has changed,” Beckham said. “Assuming you survive.”

  Johnson gulped and nodded.

  The PA system barked to life before the Marine could respond.

  “Attention, all personnel. Please make your way to the front of the room. Colonel Gibson's briefing will begin in ten minutes.”

  Riley and Beckham exchanged confused looks.

  “Gibson’s here?” Riley said.

  Beckham blinked, trying to make sense of the announcement. He remembered the USAMRIID symbols all over the base. Gibson was the commanding officer of the Infectious Diseases Division. It would make sense for him to be here, but the rest of it didn’t add up. Plum Island didn’t make sense. The construction was brand new, like it was planned, and the mission at Building 8 had been off, the intel shaky. Was it possible Gibson’s presence was just a coincidence, or was there something else going on? If he found out that the colonel was connected in a sinister way to the outbreak, he was going to…

  Beckham’s knuckles popped.

  “Boss?” Riley asked. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Hesitating, Beckham waited for the crowd to shuffle away from the television. Riley inched closer and asked again in a low voice.

  “Something’s fucking off,” Beckham replied. “I don’t know how everything’s connected yet, but something’s definitely fucking off.” He’d been an operator for over a decade. His job was reading people and situations. He was damn good at it, and he had his doubts that Plum Island and Building 8 were just a coincidence.

  There was no trace of satisfaction as the revelation hit Beckham. He felt nothing but disgust. If he was right, then the virus seizing the nation was human engineered. But he knew he needed evidence for such a bold claim. Evidence that had burned the moment San Nicholas Island and Building 8 was vaporized.

  Beckham cursed.

  “We better find Big Horn,” Riley said, eyeing Beckham.

  Nodding, Beckham followed Riley back to their cots. Horn was resting, his eyes fixated on a ceiling fan above.

  “You ready to hear how bad things are, Boss?” Horn asked. He sat up and popped his knuckles.

  Beckham felt a lump form in his throat. He had a feeling they were going to hear more than just what was going on outside—they were going to learn Plum Island was their new home for the foreseeable future.

  The decon had gone smoothly, but Kate couldn’t seem to put her mind at ease. It was swimming with questions. Nothing was adding up. Plum Island, the virus. None of it made any sense. She reached into the pocket of the pants they’d given her and clutched the small data drive as she followed Lieutenant Colonel Jensen toward one of the white dome structures. Ellis was waiting outside.

  “You all right?” Kate asked, scanning her colleague.

  “I’m fine,” Ellis said. He shivered.

  “Doctors,” Jensen said. “I’ll give you a tour of your lab.”

  Kate stared up at the building, marked with a sign that simply read “1.”

  “This is where you will work and live,” Jensen said. He opened the double doors and gestured for her and Ellis to go inside. “You will be assigned a private room later. They are located on the other side of the building.”

  They took a metal staircase to an observation deck. At the top a single glass wall separated them from the rest of the staircase. The facility took her breath away. Designed in the shape of a hexagon, the space was unlike anything Kate had ever seen.

  Below were five other compartments all built around a central storage area. Scientists performed tests from the safety of their compartments outside, utilizing the automated robots inside the middle room.

  Banks of LEDs hung from the dome ceiling, spreading an intense white glow over the space below. Everything about Building 1 was impressive, and Kate felt clean just looking at it.

  “As you can see, the building is split into six compartments. We are overlooking Section 1. That’s Toxicology,” Jensen said, pointing. He swept his finger from room to room, identifying each space.

  “Doctor Lovato,” he said sternly. “You have been promoted to lead of Section 3. Your job is to figure out what we are dealing with and then find a cure. Doctor Ellis, you will assist her.”

  Kate nodded. She'd heard what he said but was so captivated by the technology she could hardly think. She couldn’t get over the fact the building looked brand new, like it had been built for a purpose, like USAMRIID knew this was all going to happen.

  Shaking the paranoid thought away, she said, “I’d like to get started.”

  “Of course, Doctor,” he replied. “This way.”

  They moved back down the stairwell and took a left at the bottom of the stairs. Jensen paused to remove a key card from his pocket and then waved it over the surface of a security panel. “We’ll get cards for you and Dr. Ellis shortly. We just haven’t had time. Everything’s been so rushed.”

  The door chirped and unlocked. Jensen led them into the decontamination chamber. Inside, a wall with several windows separated them from a series of individual glass cylinders. The entire space smelled like chemicals, a scent Kate had grown used to. There was another scent, too. She took a breath. It was a minty smell, reminding her of a dentist’s office.

  Jensen pointed to several rows of plastic curtains. “Suits are beyond those.” He checked his wristwatch and said, “I need to get going. I’m sure you know the drill. A technician will help you once you are inside.”

  Kate nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel.”

  Ellis took a step forward, but Kate reached out and grabbed his wrist.

  Jensen raised a skeptical brow and straightened his beret before leaving the room.

  “What did you do that for? I had a few question
s,” Ellis said.

  Kate held his gaze. “Something’s wrong.” She scanned the walls for cameras and saw one angled down at them.

  Narrowing her eyes, Kate studied her colleague. It was then she realized he had no idea what was going on. The facility seemed normal to him, or if he had any suspicions he wasn’t talking.

  “Let’s get to work,” she said.

  “Wait.” Ellis reached out and patted her on her right shoulder. “I saw where this all started,” he said. He took in a short breath. “Dr. Medford created something awful, Kate. Our worst nightmare.”

  Kate remembered Michael’s final words.

  In order to kill a monster, you will have to create one.

  Massaging her temples, she tried to think. What did he mean? Did he want her to create something even worse, something that could kill the virus?

  “Let's suit up,” Kate said. “It’s time to stop talking and figure out how this thing works. We’re running out of time.”

  Ellis ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “You're right, and you’re in charge now.”

  The chirp of crickets and low hum of generators filled the night. Colonel Gibson walked briskly across the island with Lieutenant Colonel Jensen at his side. Guilt ate at him with every step. With every moment that passed, the virus continued to spread. More people would die. The country was tearing itself apart, and it was his fault. The only thing that motivated him to keep working was the hope of finding a cure. Plum Island housed some of the brightest scientists in the world. If anyone could find a way to stop the viral monster Doctor Medford had created, it would be someone here, under his command.

  He knew the truth would eventually come out. And when it did, he would own up to his sins, but for now he had to keep going to minimize collateral damage. To keep the ship sailing, Plum Island had to survive. For the sake of the entire human race.

  With his hand shaking, he stopped and reached for a cigarette as he examined the six dome-shaped buildings built in a hexagon layout. Industrial light poles spread a carpet of white light over the base, revealing what two years of careful planning had accomplished.

  “Sir, we should keep moving,” Jensen said.