He shuddered at the ramifications. Even if Operation Depletion did work, the country would never be the same. The population had been reduced to God knew how many people, and the economy was shattered.
The radio at the other end of the CIC blared to life. Corporal Hickman turned her dial and gave a thumbs up. “Lieutenant Colonel, we’re tapped in. ACC has fighters scrambling out of Langley. The squadron is on their way to New York. ETA fifteen minutes.”
Jensen felt his blood warm. Some of the best pilots in the world were headed straight for America’s favorite city to finish what Operation Reaper had started.
“Strike teams are on standby,” Major Smith said. “Beckham and his men are waiting for orders.”
“Thank you, Major,” Jensen said. He closed his eyes, pushing away what felt like emotion-fueled reservations. He was asking the man to go back into the field. After all he had already been through, it was yet another sacrifice.
But Jensen had his orders. General Kennor had taken over Central Command. Brass had assigned each remaining installation a bailiwick of cities to recon after the gas was deployed. Plum Island had picked up New York and a handful of other eastern cities. He was sending Master Sergeant Beckham to lead a strike team to the city after the jets dropped their payloads. Their mission was simple reconnaissance to see how VariantX9H9 worked in the field.
The radio flickered. “Command, this is Raptor, target inbound. Request permission to engage, over.”
Command responded a second later. “Roger that, Raptor. Green light to engage.”
Smith joined Jensen. “Think this is going to work?”
Jensen nodded. The sun was rising over the dark waves, a crimson glow spreading a carpet of light over the ocean. The beautiful view felt oddly divine.
“Approaching target,” Raptor said. “Stand by.”
The radio chatter reminded Jensen that the pilot was seeing the exact opposite view. His jet was racing toward a post-apocalyptic New York City. Jensen had seen the images. Many of the once spectacular landmarks had been reduced to rubble.
“Weapons hot,” Raptor said.
Jensen closed his eyes. He knew what came next.
Kate sat in the conference room staring at her computer, skimming the test results of VariantX9H9 to see if there was anything she had missed. Outside the safety of the island, the military was busy working too. They were dumping her bioweapon on every major city. And in just a few hours, Beckham would be deployed back to the post-apocalyptic world that surrounded them.
Guilt ate at her as she sat there. She was so lucky. Lucky to be protected and safe when everyone else was fighting for survival—lucky that she wasn’t out there.
By the time Kate had brushed her teeth and showered it was nearing 10 a.m. The landing strip outside the hexagon-shaped base was teeming with activity. Groups of Marines were preparing their gear outside a trio of Blackhawks. Another chopper was already lifting into the sky. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw it pull away from the island.
Was she too late? Had Beckham’s team already left?
“Hey! Dr. Lovato,” came an enthusiastic voice.
Kate spun to see Riley approaching. He stopped a few feet away and hoisted his huge pack on his back with a grunt.
“You aren’t coming with us, are you?”
“No, no,” Kate replied, shaking her head. “I just wanted to say good luck.”
Riley nodded. “That’s nice of you.” He jerked his head toward the closest Blackhawk. “Boss is over here.”
Kate tried to keep up with the man.
When they got to the chopper, Beckham was preparing his CBRN suit. He glanced up, a smile instantly forming on his face when he saw her.
“Kate,” he said.
It was different seeing the shy side of Beckham—the side she’d only seen a few times before. Back in Atlanta he’d shown no emotion. His focus had been only on saving her and the others.
“Thought I would see you off,” she said. “Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”
Beckham set the CBRN suit carefully on the ground and wiped his hands on his pants. “Of course not. We aren’t leaving for another hour or so. Just doing a gear check.”
Kate scanned their equipment. They looked like they were preparing for a weeklong trip. “How long will you be gone?”
“Should only be for a few days,” Beckham said. “Maybe longer. Depends on how long it takes for the bug you made to do its work.”
The words chilled her. She suddenly wondered what he really thought of her, what everyone really thought of her. Would she be seen as a savior or a monster?
“Shit,” Beckham muttered. He stepped closer. “I didn’t mean—”
Shaking her head, she brushed a strand of hair blowing in the breeze. “It’s okay.” She changed the subject and said, “What are your orders?”
“Simple,” he replied. “We're supposed to serve as an extra set of eyes. Nothing more. If we're engaged, we retreat to a safe location,” Beckham added. He reached into his rucksack and hoisted a pale green square that read Front Toward Enemy on it. “And if we run into trouble, we’ve got backup this time.”
“Is that a bomb of some kind?”
Beckham grinned and said, “It’s a mine. Also called a claymore. If anything survived out there that shouldn’t, this’ll finish the job.” He caught her gaze. “We’ll be fine, Kate.”
Fine. Safe.
The words boomed inside her mind. They no longer held the same meaning.
Riley dropped his rucksack and interjected, “Do you think we'll find survivors out there?”
Kate snapped from her thoughts. She attempted to mask the dread she felt, the sadness that was slowly sweeping over her.
“I would say so,” said a louder voice. “I’m sure there are people out there that hunkered down and stayed safe.”
Horn approached from the rear, his skull mask already covering his mouth and nose. “There are survivors everywhere, right?” His voice was muffled slightly, but she could hear every hint of apprehension.
Kate remembered his family had been at Fort Bragg. She knew the likelihood they had survived was slim, but still she nodded. “Yes, that’s why the new POTUS wanted to deploy VariantX9H9 as soon as possible. To save those that still remain.”
Horn nodded. He and Riley walked to their stack of gear, leaving Beckham and Kate alone.
“Good luck,” she said to their backs. She didn’t know what else to say, but felt like she should do more than just wish them luck. Before she could find the words, Beckham reached for her.
“Kate, I promise you everything will be fine.”
In that moment she lost all control of her emotions. Her breath caught and tears filled her eyes. Everything that had happened in the past few weeks came crashing to a point. She reached forward and wrapped her arms around Beckham.
He rubbed her back gently as she sobbed into his shoulder.
“You're saving everyone,” he whispered.
Kate pulled away. Tilting her head back, she locked eyes with him. “Am I?”
“Yes,” Beckham said firmly. “I was wrong before,” he said. “Those things aren’t human. Patient 14 was no longer a person. Those things are monsters. And I would want to die if I became one, too.”
The rap of heavy footfalls on the concrete reminded Kate the clock was ticking. The recon teams were preparing to leave and she was in the way.
Reluctantly, she pulled out of his grip and wiped the tears away. She didn’t want Beckham or the other men to see her like this.
He searched her eyes. “You’re going to make it through this.”
A short nod and she wiped away a final tear. “Promise me you’re coming back.”
“I promise, Kate. I’ll be back before you know it.”
A soldier Kate didn’t recognize interrupted them. “Master Sergeant Beckham, the lieutenant colonel wants to see you before you take off.”
“Before you go, I have something for y
ou,” Kate said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small envelope, handing it to Beckham. Before he could open it she was already walking away.
Kate listened to the Blackhawks take off in the distance. The thump of the blades slowly dissipated until they had faded completely. She watched the final chopper disappear on the horizon.
“Good luck,” she whispered.
When she reached Building 4 Ellis was waiting at the entrance, flanked on both sides by guards.
“Everything okay?” he asked as she approached.
Kate had forgotten she’d been crying and wiped at her eyes. “Yes. I was told there is something we should see.” She opened the door and gestured for Ellis to go first.
One of the technicians waited inside for them. Kate recognized him as the one who had given Patient 14 the lethal dose of VariantX9H9.
“Thank you for coming, doctors. I thought you both should see this.”
Kate followed him from room to room, pausing to peer through the small oval windows above each door. The sight through the glass was grotesque. The patients all lay in puddles of their own blood.
“They’re all dead,” Ellis said. “A good sign.”
“Not all of them,” the tech replied.
Kate’s heart fluttered when she heard the words. The modified virus should have killed all of them by now.
The man stopped in the middle of the hallway and pointed to the door on his left. “Take a look for yourself.”
Before Kate had a chance to look through the window a man pressed his face against the glass. He stood there staring at Kate, studying her. Yellow slits stared back at her, blinking rapidly. Red swirled around his sclera, but they were no longer the bright rose-colored eyes she was used to seeing.
After a short scan she saw there were no signs of fresh bleeding from his eyes or nose and the rashes on his skin looked like they were scarring. The patient curled his fingers into a claw and scratched at the wall, growling.
“This is Patient 12,” the tech said. “As you can see he is far from dead.”
Kate watched the man purse his sucker lips on the other side of the window, revealing a set of broken and jagged teeth. She didn’t understand. How could this man have recovered? There had to be some sort of mistake.
“Have there been other reports of infected victims recovering?” Kate asked.
The tech quickly shook his head. “No, I just looked over the reports we got from a team in Chicago this morning. There has not been a single documented case of recovery.” He paused and then very confidently said, “Ever.”
“And you are sure this man was given VariantX9H9?”
He nodded. “Yes, I administered it myself earlier this morning when Major Smith ordered all of the remaining specimens to be put down.”
Kate felt her mind spinning in all directions. It had to be something about the synthesized virus she’d engineered, but none of it made any sense. The weapon was designed to ensure the victim would bleed out quickly. So why was this man still alive?
“Maybe this guy was just—” Ellis began to say.
“Keep an eye on him, and get me a sample of his blood,” Kate said, hurrying down the hallway.
“Where are you going?” Ellis shouted.
“Back to the lab.”
-24-
Team Ghost endured the short ride to New York in silence. They didn’t discuss Colonel Gibson or Kate’s bioweapon. They simply sat there listening to the human engineering of the Blackhawk. Each man was still and stoic, lost in his own thoughts.
Beckham unsealed the envelope Kate had given him. A simple note fell out onto his lap. He picked up the piece of paper and read it under his breath.
I hope this brings you some luck.
He turned the envelope upside down and a picture of his mom fell out. It was different than the one he normally carried, but it was her smile, her face.
“That Kate is one hell of a woman,” Riley said.
“How did she know…” Beckham said, his voice trailing off. He remembered telling her about the picture in the mess hall but nothing more.
“She asked me if I could find a pic of your mom,” Riley said. “Apparently the CDC still has access to the Internet.”
“Damn nice of her,” Horn added.
Beckham wiped away what felt like a tear. He kissed the picture and unzipped his CBRN suit, sticking the image inside his vest pocket. “Thanks, kid,” he said.
“Least I could do for keeping me alive all these years,” Riley replied with a wide grin.
The chopper banked hard to the right and swept across the smoke-clogged skyline. Beckham couldn’t believe his eyes. The Air Force had hit New York City hard.
The twisted outlines of ruined skyscrapers protruded out of a lingering cloud of smoke. Through the gaps, Beckham could make out the ruined city below. He had to clear his visor of dust just to ensure the sight was real.
It was, and it extended as far as he could see.
“Never thought I’d see one of our own cities like this,” Riley said. His normally chipper voice was cold and solemn.
“Better get used to it,” Horn replied.
“Stay focused,” Beckham said. “This is just another mission.” He said it, but couldn't deny he was having doubts now. After telling Kate they would be safe, he wasn’t so sure. The destroyed city would harbor danger every step of the way. Unstable buildings, gas leaks, desperate survivors, and possibly even infected.
Gripping his MP5, Beckham chinned his comm. “What’s our ETA?”
The pilot responded after a brief crackle of static. “Five minutes. LZ is in Astoria.”
“Copy,” Beckham replied. He craned his neck for a better view. They flew over the harbor, moving southwest toward the city. Beckham twisted, his CBRN suit crunching as he looked out the side windows. He could see Manhattan now. Where dozens of skyscrapers stood only weeks before, there were now only piles of rubble. From the sky, the buildings looked like models.
Smoke crawled across the heaps of metal and brick, hiding the street level from view. Beckham clenched his teeth and checked Riley and Horn. They were staring intensely at the same view, their visors hiding their features.
“This is Gibson’s fault,” Horn grunted.
“Motherfucker's going to pay,” Riley added.
Beckham didn’t reply. There wasn’t anything he could say to lessen the shock of what waited below. It was good that they had someone to blame—it made the difficult orders easier to justify.
The chopper descended as they approached Queens. Dense smoke hung over the harbor. Beckham held his breath and watched the water disappear as the smoke consumed the chopper. He mentally counted the seconds.
One.
Two.
In between blinks the Blackhawk emerged from the gray. Beckham flinched. The outline of the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge exploded into view. The landmark had taken a missile to the midsection. Support beams sagged around the missing chunk of bridge.
“Watch out!” he yelled.
The pilot jerked the nose of the chopper toward the water and slipped under the ruined bridge, narrowly missing the jagged metal protruding under the concrete and stone.
“Change of plans,” the pilot said. “Command says Astoria is too hot. Plan B is Times Square.”
Beckham exchanged glances with Riley and Horn.
“Copy,” he finally replied.
They pulled away from Astoria and moved over the Upper East Side. The forest of trees in Central Park jutted out of another layer of smoke haunting the district.
A few seconds later they were hovering over the iconic Times Square. The billboards were dark, the electronic images absent. The scene made his stomach sink. Times Square was the symbol of American culture. The dark screens seemed to warn Beckham about the country's future.
He forced himself to look toward the streets below. They were clogged with the burned hulls of vehicles. The charred remains of refugees trying to escape the city were all th
at remained. Beckham had seen similar scenes in the past. Iraq and Afghanistan. These had been desperate people trying to escape with their lives.
Looking closer, he saw there was something else down there, something that Beckham couldn’t quite make sense of at first. The street looked like it was glistening and wet.
“Get us lower,” he shouted.
As the chopper descended the view came into focus. And it took his breath away. The blacktop was peppered with puddles of blood. Mangled bodies lay in every direction, some even on top of one another.
“My God,” Riley choked. “There have to be hundreds of them.”
Twisted lumps filled every city street, blood seeping from the corpses and pooling on the pavement. VariantX9H9 had worked after all. Jensen didn’t need to send Beckham and his team into the field to see that. He could have simply had a pilot do a fly over.
“Get us out of here,” Beckham shouted. “We need a new drop location.”
“Copy that,” the pilot replied.
Beckham kept his gaze glued on the street. There wasn’t a living thing in sight. No loose pets or random survivors. Nothing but blood and death.
A few minutes later they were hovering over a ten-story building that had survived the bombs. The foundation was unscathed and Beckham authorized a landing. Riley secured the rope and they slid down to the roof.
Beckham was moving as soon as his boots hit the gravel. He swept his weapon side to side looking for targets.
“Clear,” he shouted, and waited for confirmation from Horn and Riley that their zones were good to go. It was hard to hear under the whup-whup of the blades. A second later, as the chopper pulled away, Horn and Riley called in a clear AO. Squinting, Beckham watched the bird ascend and race across the skyline, leaving them alone in a city that had hemorrhaged life.
Kate wasn’t sure what time it was. She could hardly think. Patient 12 was driving her nuts. She simply couldn’t make sense of the man’s recovery.
Extinction Horizon (The Extinction Cycle Book 1) Page 27