“We’re tracking them now,” the engineer said.
Riggs called in the coordinates as the engineer relayed them. The tunnels crawled forward, drawing ever closer to the trucks and Outpost El Paso. Fischer couldn’t help but wonder if this was happening across the country.
“Where’s that fire support?” he snapped.
Riggs twisted his wrist and looked at his watch. “Thirty seconds.”
Those seconds passed by agonizingly slowly. Fischer waited for the ground to open before them, Alphas pushing out followed by a horde of wart-covered Variants clawing for fresh meat.
A voice sprang in his mind.
Leave! Now! Go!
It was his wife’s voice again. More adamant now. He had failed to heed her warning back in the tunnels under Fischer Fields, and it had nearly gotten everyone on his team killed.
You can’t stay here.
The tunnels grew slowly. Fischer’s heart thundered. To him, watching the screens was like witnessing the mushroom cloud of a distant atomic bomb, seeing the devastation that would soon overcome them. But he was unable to do anything to stop it except to pray.
Leave!
He considered telling his men to stop. To retreat, but he held steady.
Another few seconds passed, and a sonic boom tore overhead. Fischer nearly jumped at the roar. Somewhere above them, like dragons in the night, the fighter jets tore through the sky.
A flash of light exploded over the horizon.
Another four followed in quick succession, more blinding than any of the floodlights around the trucks. The ground rumbled violently.
The relentless sound blasted over the truck, assaulting Fischer’s eardrums. He stood tall, watching the screens. The vibrations from the bunker buster bombs sent a crash of signals through the ground and into the geophone truck, throwing off their tunnel detection abilities.
Fischer waited for the signals to settle. The engineers stared at the monitor, neither of them blinking.
Ten seconds passed before the seismic waves from the bombs dissipated, leaving only the heavy smack of the thumper trucks to shake the ground. On the screens, the five tunnels appeared again.
But this time they were much larger.
Fischer stroked his mustache nervously, anticipating movement from those new caverns in the ground. But the earth beneath them remained lifeless.
“Sir, I think we’re clear,” said one of the engineers, in a surprised voice as if he didn’t believe it himself. “No indications of anomalies. No expansion of the original tunnels.”
“I’d presume them Variants are all crispy critters now,” Fischer said.
“You’re sure?” Riggs said.
Fischer leaned over the engineer’s shoulder to study the screen. “Dead as door nails, Lieutenant.”
“Ho-ly shit,” Riggs said, looking away from the screen. “Sir, I have a feeling you and your men are going to find yourselves very busy over the next few weeks. If this technology works this good all the time, it could very well be the thing we need to win this war.”
“Maybe,” Fischer said. “I sure hope you got a big supply of those bunker busters, ’cause we’re going to need a hell of a lot of them.”
***
“Our F-35s have eliminated the targets outside of Outpost Portland,” reported General Souza.
Victorious cheers and applause filled the briefing room. President Ringgold wanted to share in the celebration with her staff and the officers, but the leaden weight of dread held her back.
For every victory, they had ten more setbacks, and she still hadn’t heard anything new about Beckham and Horn since their disappearance.
Not to mention the reports of new Variant attacks at other outposts. The news kept hitting like a relentless hailstorm.
Scott AFB was already gone. Wiped off the map just hours earlier.
Her eyes darted back to the wall-mounted monitor where a digital map of the Allied States displayed the now remaining eighty-three outposts. The six main target cities of Minneapolis, Chicago, Lincoln, Kansas City, Indianapolis, and Columbus were again under full-scale attack.
But at least Team Ghost had escaped Scott’s collapse. By now they would be closing in on their new target to find another mastermind.
She had to keep reminding herself that while the Variants were on the offensive, so were the brave men and women of the military.
Tonight she felt a desire to be out there, fighting alongside those who placed themselves in harm’s way.
“Sometimes it’s better to craft a strong strategy for the troops on the ground rather than standing there with them and pulling a trigger. A good leader knows the difference,” Beckham had told her during the first war.
Remembering those words helped assuage the guilt she felt. After all, she had a plan. She had a way that humanity could survive this mess.
The science team just needed to tap into the network of the masterminds. If Kate and Carr achieved that and if the tunnel detecting equipment worked for Fischer and his men, then they had a chance at stopping this madness before it consumed the Allied States. Especially if General Cornelius pulled through on his somewhat mysterious promise of potentially having access to even more powerful technology to bolster their defenses.
“Madam President, I just got a report that the final defenses of Outpost Kansas City have fallen,” announced General Souza. “We’ve got live footage from one of our teams in the air.”
The words made Ringgold’s stomach knot.
Lieutenant Festa turned on a wall-mounted monitor. The view came on screen with an image of the interstate. Hundreds of headlights from evacuating vehicles glimmered on the road. The footage turned dark as the pilots circled for a better vantage point.
They had established this outpost six years ago after the military cleaned up the area. Its strategic location on the Missouri River made transportation of resources easier. The vast network of sheltered limestone caverns also proved useful for storage for so many local businesses.
By almost all measures, it was the biggest outpost in the Allied States with multiple districts, including clearly demarcated residential, business, and industrial zones. The river and roadways provided multiple convenient routes to transport resources.
“Please tell me we got everyone into the caves,” Ringgold said.
“Most of them, and the outpost commander has dedicated a good chunk of forces to protect the caves,” Festa said. “We’ll evacuate more of them tomorrow when daylight drives the beasts back.”
“Tomorrow…” Ringgold whispered.
For much of the country there wouldn’t be a tomorrow.
“Who has a SITREP on the other outposts? I want to know if we have identified or captured collaborators,” she said.
Festa held up a marked-up map. He was helping oversee the prioritizing of outpost defenses and evacuations.
“The few that have been captured have committed suicide, and we haven’t identified any new cells,” he said. “But we’re working hard on this, Madam President, I assure you.”
“Redouble your efforts on that front,” Ringgold said, holding back a sigh. “Now how about the physical threat of an attack?”
“As you know, we’re moving more of the survivors east as the outposts around the western target cities are overrun,” he said. “While the current attacks are mostly centered around these six targets, there are smaller Variant hordes that seem to be working alongside collaborators to hit places like Outpost Portland, Outpost Boston, etc.”
“The safest places to move these people are locations with geographical or geological attributes that make it difficult for Variants to tunnel under,” Lemke said.
The vice president noted outposts including Norfolk, Kent Island, and Manchester.
“We’re going to start evacuating more people to these areas and concentrating our defenses there as a last resort,” he said.
The aerial footage came back online. This time, the helicopter was flying over
the outer defenses along the banks of the river. The fences and walls had collapsed, and the minefields were nothing but smoking craters. Dark holes with halos of fresh dirt and rock marred the inside of the outpost where Variants had burst through the ground.
The chopper turned back to the interstate. Muzzle flashes sparked from people abandoning their vehicles and trying to hold back the hordes of beasts.
Cortez put her hand over her mouth.
Armored juveniles raced down the road, chasing helpless people fleeing the devastation. Suddenly a section of the interstate burst with the bright glow of explosions. Fighter jets had dropped their payloads to buy the survivors time. For those already captured by the juveniles, it was a swift and merciful end to their suffering.
Another round of bombs burst across the interstate and then the chopper turned away from the view.
As the hours passed, the other six outposts around the target cities crumbled, their defenses failing, and the Variants spreading like a virus.
The irony wasn’t lost on her.
Festa and other officers worked to keep the map updated, but by two in the morning, almost every outpost in the Allied States was under some degree of attack.
A surprise call came just when Ringgold felt her brain boiling with frustration and fear.
Soprano handed her a satellite phone.
“Ringgold here,” she said.
“Madam President, it’s General Cornelius. I have an update on our work in El Paso.”
“I could use some good news. What’s going on, General?”
“It is good, ma’am. The technology works. Fischer and his men were able to not only detect tunnels, but we also used that data to destroy them before the monsters could even surface.”
“You have no idea how glad I am to hear this. How soon before we can start deploying these measures?”
“I’m going to need help getting this equipment to the outposts where it’s needed most. I think we can also locate better technology to augment these defenses from some old Department of Defense laboratories in California.”
“Whatever you need.”
“Time is what I need most, and I’m afraid we don’t have that.” The General paused and then said, “I’ve got five hundred of my troops ready to deploy where you see fit. What I don’t have is the aircraft to make all this happen.”
“I think we can handle that,” she said. “Let me speak to my team. I’ll call you later when we’ve decided on our course of action.”
“Okay. Thank you, Madam President.”
“Talk soon,” Ringgold said. She set the phone down and described the request to everyone in the room.
“I won’t be able to identify the outposts where we need those troops the most until sunrise,” Festa said.
“Not until we know which ones are left…” Ringgold said, realization hitting her like a brick.
“If this strategy works as well as General Cornelius claims, then we need to make that a priority mission,” Lemke said.
“That will require rearranging our resources and aircraft,” Souza interjected. “Which means pulling some off evacuations.”
Being president for almost eight years had taught her she often had to choose the greater good over individuals, but in this case they were talking about leaving thousands of people stranded in order to save tens of thousands.
“If we don’t get that equipment where we need it, then all we’re doing is prolonging the inevitable by evacuating people,” Lemke said. “I’m afraid we have no choice but to resource aircraft for this new mission.”
Ringgold knew the guilt would crush her later, but for now, there was no other choice in her mind.
Lemke gave her a hard nod of approval.
“Authorized,” she said.
The room broke into a bustle of activity as the staff and officers erupted in conversation. Ringgold sat watching in silence, considering the implications of her orders.
“Ma’am,” came a voice.
Cortez bent down next to Ringgold. “We just got word that Captain Beckham and Master Sergeant Horn have made it back to Outpost Portland safely.”
“Thank God,” Ringgold said. She welcomed the additional good news.
“Lieutenant Niven said they took on an entire horde of Variants…” Cortez said. “That’s how the Iron Hogs knew where to call in the air support.”
Ringgold twisted to look back at the younger woman.
“Guess those two aren’t so retired anymore,” Cortez said, flashing a smile.
Ringgold smiled back and then got out of her chair. She walked over to the hatch, a voice calling out after her when she reached it.
“Madam President, where are you going?” Soprano asked.
“To see Doctor Lovato to let her know her husband is safe. At the way things are turning out, hopefully she’ll have some good news for us.”
“All the science in the world won’t save us if there are more collaborators out there ready to unleash hell,” Lemke said.
The vice president was right, and Ringgold knew it. At this point, she wasn’t sure there was anything that could save the Allied States, but she would rather die than hand it over to the monsters.
— 11 —
The thuds from the not so distant explosions had passed over an hour ago, maybe longer, but the group of collaborators were still fuming across the chamber from Timothy.
They stood near piles of collapsed ceiling. Several of the pieces had landed on human prisoners, tearing them from the wall and crushing them to pulp on the concrete floor.
It was a mercy, Timothy thought.
“He’s going to be furious…” said the short man in his Brooklyn accent. “We got to blame someone for this. Pete seems like the logical choice. You boys got to back that up, okay?”
He paced in front of the passage that the men had entered through. The other two collaborators, one with a Red Sox hat, and the other wearing a stocking cap both sat on crates.
A radio crackled across the space, but Timothy couldn’t make out the transmission. He strained to listen, but he was still groggy. He had passed out earlier, and had been jolted awake by those explosions. All he heard was the response from the short collaborator.
“Oh man, this is so fucked up,” he said. “Everything has gone to shit, and someone is going to have to answer for this… one of us… one of us is going to be fed to them…”
The other two men got off their crates and paced nervously. From what Timothy had gathered so far, a group of their soldiers had engaged a truck back on the same road he was kidnapped.
But those collaborators had never returned. Someone had killed them and apparently taken off with explosives meant to be used on the outpost.
Not only that, but the Variant hordes they had deployed to attack Outpost Portland, had been destroyed—probably by whatever had caused those explosions Timothy had heard.
Someone had severely messed up the collaborators’ battle plan, and Timothy couldn’t be happier. He held back a grin.
In the past he might have thought something like this was Beckham and Horn’s doing. But they had abandoned him, Bo, Donna, and everyone else they had sworn to protect.
Someone else… someone with real balls was responsible for the badass attack that had killed those raiders and resulted in the utter demolition of the Variant horde.
Another man suddenly walked into the chamber wearing camouflage and a black ski mask. He stripped the mask off, and long dreadlocked hair fell over his shoulders.
The other three collaborators all took a step backward.
This must be the real leader, Timothy thought.
The man they all feared.
“The attack on the outpost failed,” said the new man, almost calmly. “We lost one wave of beasts and two demo crews. I’ve called back the other teams, and the rest of the beasts are safe for now.”
He looked away from his soldiers to scan the crushed prisoners.
“What a fucking disaster
,” he said. Anger rose in his voice in his next words. “The master’s wrath is going to come down hard.”
“Master will want a head,” the short man said in his Brooklyn accent. “It’ll be one of us, won’t it?”
“Don’t be such a pussy, Vin,” said the man with dreadlocks. “The only way our heads don’t end up on pikes is if we show strength.”
“I’m no pussy, Pete,” said Vin.
“You’re sure acting like one,” Pete said. He flipped his dreadlocks over his back and looked to the other two collaborators. “With tonight’s fuckup, we got to show we still have plenty of meat to draw from at the outpost.”
Vin looked across the room, and Pete followed his gaze to Timothy. The dreadlocked man took a step forward.
Timothy squirmed in the restraints, sensing whatever happened next wasn’t going to be good.
“Check the others,” Pete instructed.
The four collaborators fanned across the space but Pete stopped a few feet in front of Timothy.
“He’s a real wiggler,” Vin said. “Like a worm.”
“Only one to survive the Variants in the forest,” said Red Sox hat.
“So he’s a fighter,” said Pete. He leaned forward. Once again, Timothy was being studied and scrutinized by a monster in the chamber.
Judging by the way the collaborators kept their distance from Pete, even they were scared of him. This guy was not someone Timothy would want to be in a room alone with. He exuded confidence and terror.
Maybe he was the one that had led the attack on Peaks Island.
Maybe he killed my father.
Rage warmed his chest. A spike of adrenaline helped him fight harder against the glue holding him in place.
“Yeah… he’s a fighter,” Pete said.
“That’s right, and I’ll kill that wannabe gangster over there if you let me go,” Timothy said.
For a moment Pete simply glared at Timothy, but then his face twisted into a grim smirk. “You got balls, kid.”
“Not a kid,” Timothy said. He directed his eyes at Vin. “And that guy is a real fucking coward if you ask me.”
He raised his voice and added, “You should have heard what he said before you got here.”
Extinction Cycle: Dark Age Box Set | Books 1-4 Page 44