Extinction Cycle: Dark Age Box Set | Books 1-4

by Smith, Nicholas Sansbury

  Lloyd handed the bloody scalpel to Corrin.

  Wincing, Fitz glanced down to see a red line where Lloyd had started the first incision. Blood started to spread over his flesh.

  Lloyd had promised to keep them awake throughout the surgery, saying it would help him keep tabs on their mental status as he applied his diabolical treatments.

  Now Fitz found himself wishing to be back in the webbing, being pulled apart instead of cut apart. In seconds, Lloyd would start tearing his organs from his body.

  Suddenly, muffled sounds and a bang against the door to the operating room broke Lloyd’s focus. The crazy scientist furrowed his brow, then turned toward the door.

  “What’s that all about?” he asked. “Distracting from our experiments again, those Neander—”

  The door burst open before he could finish his sentence, and two Chimeras strode in wearing dirty fatigues covered in blood. One of the mutant soldiers held the other hostage with a pistol.

  Fitz tried to understand what was going on. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one confused.

  “What are you doing?” Lloyd asked. “This is authorized access only, and you—”

  The soldier fired, and the hostage crumpled from a bullet to the skull. Then the soldier aimed the smoking gun barrel at Lloyd.

  “Stop this!” screamed the scientist, holding up his hands. “You must stop!”

  The soldier fired.

  A bullet punched into Lloyd’s upper chest. He looked down in shock as blood blossomed in the neat hole. He put a hand over the wound and looked up at the Chimera. The creature fired again.

  Lloyd fell back against the wall, sliding down, blood streaking down the clean white. His wild blue and brown eyes lowered as he wheezed.

  Then the gun went to Corrin.

  “Patch them up now,” said the soldier.

  Corrin hesitated.

  The Chimera pulled off his mask to reveal his face. It was Dohi!

  “You made it…” Fitz stammered.

  Corrin still didn’t move.

  “Patch them up!” Dohi commanded again.

  The beast man finally moved to a cabinet. Then he went to work on Fitz with surgical glue, quickly closing up the cut.

  Fitz blinked through the exhaustion and shock, his battered body aching everywhere as the Chimera cleaned him up.

  Dohi watched, holding a gun to Corrin’s head.

  “Get me out of here,” Ace grumbled.

  “Hold up,” Dohi said.

  “You’ll never escape,” crackled a voice.

  It was Lloyd, somehow still alive.

  “We will, but you won’t,” Dohi said.

  Lloyd chuckled, and then started coughing.

  “The New Gods have already won,” Lloyd said. “This land…is theirs.”

  While keeping the gun trained on Corrin, Dohi went over to Ace and undid the restraints. Ace was slow to move, but he managed to sit up, his naked body trembling.

  Dohi withdrew a syringe. “You’re going to need this.”

  “What…is it?” Ace asked.

  “Adrenaline.”

  He jabbed the needle into Ace and depressed the plunger. The big operator gasped and gripped his chest. While he recovered, Dohi gave Fitz another shot. Then he told Corrin to follow him into the hall.

  Ace stumbled over to pick up a drill while Fitz sat up on the table. The scientist looked at both of them in turn.

  “Ah man, I’ve been waiting for this,” Ace said. He limped to Lloyd and kicked him with a naked foot.

  In his weakened state, Ace couldn’t even summon enough strength to knock the dying man over from his position against the wall.

  Lloyd merely huffed, his skin growing paler. “This war…is already over… The Master will…”

  “As long as I’m still alive, it ain’t,” Ace said. He bent down, grimacing, then he drilled a hole through Lloyd’s ear as he screamed. The sound lasted for a few moments before he finally went limp.

  Corrin and Dohi returned with some of the gear and clothing Ghost had brought on the mission. Best of all, they had the prosthetics Fitz would need to get out of this place.

  Dohi simply stared at Ace.

  “What?” Ace said.

  “Nothing.” Dohi helped Fitz put on the prosthetics and then helped him off the table.

  “How do we get out of here?” Fitz asked.

  “There’s a garage,” Dohi said. “Our new friend, Corrin, is taking us there.”

  The beast glanced at Fitz with yellow eyes, but then looked away sheepishly. He didn’t protest or exhibit the brutal aggression the other Chimeras did. He seemed more like a slave instead of a soldier.

  Fitz glanced down at Lloyd’s body on the floor before they left. Blood drizzled out of his ear.

  Dohi led the small group into the hall where he switched his handgun for the suppressed M4 slung over his vest.

  Blood pooled over the floor from the Chimeras Dohi had already dispatched in the corridor. Fitz grabbed an MP5 off one and extra magazines. Ace found an AK-47 and loaded up on ammo.

  They were both in bad shape and plodded along slowly. Fitz did everything he could to stay focused, but even with the adrenaline it was tough. His laceration felt like it would split with the gentlest exertion, and the bruises across his body burned with even the most careful of movements.

  Dohi opened a door and swept his rifle over the landing and stairs.

  “Clear,” he said.

  They went down the stairwell.

  By the time they reached the bottom, Fitz gasped for air. Each breath set his lungs on fire again, his ribs throbbing with pain. Already he could feel the temporary bandages over his chest working free. Blood started to drip into his fatigues.

  The howl of a Variant took his mind away from the pain.

  Dohi looked back to Corrin. “Which way to the garage?”

  The beast growled out the directions.

  Dohi aimed his gun at Corrin’s face. “You telling the truth?”

  Fitz squinted at Corrin, trying to figure out if the half-man behind those monstrous features was walking them right into a trap.

  “Doctor Lloyd was lying to you,” Corrin said. “My mind isn’t theirs. They took me as a slave. They threatened to turn my family into monsters like this too if I didn’t help.”

  “Collaborators lie all the fucking time,” Dohi said.

  “Fine. Kill me,” Corrin said. “It’s better than living like this…like an experiment…”

  Howls and shrieks of more Variants echoed into the stairwell.

  “Lead us to the garage,” Fitz said.

  Dohi kept going down the stairs until they reached a door that opened to the parking garage Corrin had promised. Two Humvees with National Guard logos on the sides were parked here. A pickup truck and two sedans were next to them between concrete columns.

  At the other end of the garage, a ramp with a gate arm across it led directly to the alley behind CECO. Four Chimeras stood guard outside, hardly visible.

  “Quiet and quick,” Fitz said.

  They snuck through the garage, hiding behind the pillars until they reached the first Humvee. Unlike most in-service military vehicles, this one didn’t have a cable wrapped around the steering wheel to lock it in place.

  Fitz helped Ace into the back of the vehicle, and Dohi stuffed Corrin in next to Ace.

  “You’re coming as insurance,” Dohi said. “Ace, keep him secured.”

  “All right,” Ace mumbled.

  Fitz looked through the windshield at the four guards standing at the exit.

  All they had to do was get past them and then drive to the boat in the cove. If they made it to Marrowstone, they would be free, ready for pickup by the Canadians.

  All it takes is all you got, Fitz thought to himself.

  He didn’t have much left, but he did have something—the will to survive and the heart to keep fighting so he could see Rico again.

  With a flip of the ignition switch, the engine roar
ed to life. The four Chimeras at the exit swiveled, throwing their hands up to shield their eyes from the headlights.

  Fitz mashed the pedal, and the big tires squealed for a second before the Humvee launched forward. One of the soldiers fired a burst of gunfire that ricocheted off the vehicle and cracked the windshield.

  “Down!” Fitz yelled.

  He ducked as they smashed into two soldiers. Their bodies crunched under the tires. The other two Chimeras continued firing, bullets riddling the back of the Humvee.

  The gate arm snapped as Fitz blasted through it and took them into the alley. He swerved onto a street, then drove straight down Pike Street.

  Variants took to the road in pursuit, galloping on all fours. Some jumped out in front of the Humvee, but Fitz kept his foot on the gas. The heavy vehicle flattened them, hardly even jolting over each beast.

  Fitz swerved past debris and charred vehicles until he got to an open stretch. He pushed the pedal down again, accelerating away.

  Bullets pinged against the Humvee as Chimera soldiers stormed the street from CECO.

  He took a right turn. A clang on top of the Humvee caused him to duck. A Variant pried open the hatch on top. Dohi brought his rifle up and fired.

  The surgical glue had come loose, and more blood trickled through his fatigues, but Fitz kept driving. He took side streets, doing anything he could to throw the Chimeras and their beasts off his tracks.

  His heart finally started to calm when he saw Smith Cove Park. He drove straight over the curb and only slowed to a stop in the overgrown grass when they reached the tree where they had hidden their boat.

  Dohi leapt out and sprinted to the RIB, then dragged it toward the water. Ace lumbered over, favoring his right leg, as he took Corrin with him. Fitz followed, his muscles protesting with every step.

  “On our six!” Ace yelled as Dohi shoved the boat into the water.

  Fitz went to a knee, joints protesting at the movement. He sighted up a monster lunging from behind them in the moonlight and squeezed the trigger. Rounds blasted through the wart-covered face. It tripped over its own limbs, sliding across the grass.

  Two more creatures bounded around it.

  Dohi started the RIB’s motor, and Ace pushed Corrin over the gunwale before stumbling in himself. Fitz picked off the two remaining creatures, riddling them with three bullets each.

  He lowered his gun and hobbled over to the boat, sliding over the side.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said.

  Dohi motored away from the shore as other creatures swarmed toward their position, running on all fours from the surrounding streets.

  A few jumped into the water, trying to swim after them, their armored flesh reflecting the moonlight. But with the boat going full throttle, they couldn’t keep up.

  Fitz took a long, deep breath. Ghost had escaped CECO, thanks to Dohi’s heroic efforts, and now with Corrin’s capture, they had the crucial evidence they needed for General Kamer and anyone else who questioned the evil here.

  A single look at the Chimera was a powerful reminder that this war wasn’t for the fate of the Allied States. Even General Kamer would have to recognize what an army of these creatures could do to Canada.

  — 25 —

  The drive to Mount Katahdin had taken less time than Timothy had anticipated. He chalked that up to driving well-above normal, safe speeds, making it in a little over seven hours. The only time they stopped was to fill up with the gasoline they had taken from the ambushed convoy.

  Wearing night-vision goggles had helped him navigate the dark route.

  Ruckley had dozed off for part of the ride. Timothy didn’t blame her, given her injured arm. She was wide awake now, staring through the windshield. Fresh bandages covered her injuries, but with all the muscle damage, she couldn’t even lift her rifle.

  By the time Timothy saw the mountain in the moonlight, it was nearly three-thirty in the morning.

  “Why don’t I see any fire?” she asked. “The military should have leveled this place by now.”

  Timothy eased off the gas. The tires crunched on the wet, rocky country road.

  “They got our message,” Ruckley said. “You sure that is Mount Katahdin?”

  “Yes,” Timothy said. The images of his time underground here and his captivity were seared into his memory.

  The two corporals, Winslow and Carey, offered no explanation.

  “Maybe they’re still preparing an attack,” Ruckley tried.

  “We radioed it in like six hours ago!” Timothy said. “They could’ve leveled this place if they wanted.”

  Ruckley squirmed, a grimace on her face under the NVGs. “I don’t think it’s a question of if they wanted to or not. What if they couldn’t?”

  The implications chilled Timothy to his core.

  “She’s right,” Winslow said. “There might not be any aircraft left. God, for that matter, maybe there isn’t anyone left to take this place out.”

  He said what they all didn’t want to admit.

  But Timothy knew it wasn’t entirely true.

  “I’m still breathing, and I see three soldiers who can still fight,” Timothy said. “If it’s only us, then so be it. I’m ready to destroy this place.”

  Ruckley let out a half snort. “I wish I could have met your old man. Guy must’ve been one tough son-of-bitch and a hell of a warrior to have a son like you.”

  “He was,” Timothy said. “Like our new friends.”

  Glancing in the rearview mirror, he looked at Winslow and Carey. The bearded men were battle-scarred veterans. Not only had they served in the first war, but they’d been deployed to Afghanistan before the Variants had surged across the Earth.

  “Y’all ready?” Ruckley asked.

  Two nods from the back seat.

  “Pull off ahead,” Ruckley said. “Let’s take the rest of the way on foot.”

  Timothy slid the truck between the trees, ensuring their parking spot was well-concealed, then killed the engine. All four hopped out and began hiking into the woods. Winslow and Carey took the lead with Timothy in the middle and Ruckley hanging back. She was armed with only an M9 and a few hand grenades.

  Taking cautious steps, Timothy swept his NVGs back and forth over the trees. He thought back to his captivity, trying to remember anything that might give him a clue how to get into the base. While he hadn’t spent much time outside the base without a blindfold, he remembered the camouflaged staging area where the collaborators had taken him when they launched their mission to destroy Outpost Portland.

  Back then, he had studied his surroundings to try to figure out where he was.

  If he could just recognize the same view he’d seen that night, then he could lead the group into one of the base’s entrances.

  The trek out of the valley toward the mountain was painfully slow, especially with Ruckley. Timothy glanced over his shoulder, watching her injured gait. Her wounds weren’t just slowing them down. They put the entire group at risk. The blood saturating her bandages would call any prowling Variants from a mile away.

  Roving his rifle, he searched for any sign of motion. Rippling grass or the flash of pale flesh. He saw nothing out there.

  Maybe the beasts were too far tonight. Otherwise, he suspected they would have already attacked.

  The team went up a slope, boots squishing in the mud. Timothy was the first to crest the hill. He slipped through a maze of towering pine trees, the scent of their needles drifting on a cold wind.

  Carey bent down a few feet away. Timothy stopped when the corporal motioned for the rest of the team. They gathered around his position, and he pointed to tracks in the mud.

  Most looked like they had come from boots—collaborator or military, Timothy couldn’t tell. But there was one set of prints that appeared different from the others.

  Half the tracks were from a boot and the other half was simply a flattened, square-shaped divot in the mud.

  Winslow and Carey pushed on,
but Timothy hesitated. He couldn’t help but picture Fitz and Beckham. The strange print looked like it might have come from someone with a prosthetic.

  Those two might be alive somewhere in the States, but after everything that had happened, he doubted it. Even the experienced operators were no match for an enemy as ruthless and powerful as he had seen.

  “Keep moving,” Ruckley said.

  He walked next to her through the woods, still thinking of his old friends. When Timothy lived on Peaks Island, he had viewed Beckham and Horn as uncles. They had always looked out for him like he was part of their family.

  He had loved them, and he had thought they loved him, too. But apparently he had been wrong. They had abandoned him the night Outpost Portland was hit by collaborators.

  Remembering the past reminded Timothy of something his father used to say.

  Anger eats our insides like cancer. You need to learn to let it go.

  His dad had told him that when Timothy was upset with Bo over some stupid thing he couldn’t even recall.

  Now, his dad and Bo were both gone.

  Anger had done nothing to fill the void they had left behind.

  His dad was right.

  Timothy needed to let go of his anger. He needed to forgive Beckham and Horn. They hadn’t killed his dad. In fact, they had saved his dad and him almost a decade ago, risking their own lives for people they didn’t even know.

  He was no longer the naïve child who thought they would just leave him at Portland for no good reason. They couldn’t possibly have known what would happen to him.

  Instead of ascribing his rage to Beckham and Horn, he focused on who really deserved it: The collaborators.

  He hurried to keep up with the other three soldiers.

  Not ten minutes later, they discovered another set of tracks. A single set of shoeprints headed in nearly the opposite direction of the first tracks. These looked fresh, which meant there might be patrols or snipers out here.

  Timothy moved his finger to his trigger, ready to blast the first one he saw.

  They soon reached a rocky overlook. Timothy started to walk toward the side with Ruckley, but she halted and knelt. He dropped beside her to examine a body.

  It was a man in a ghillie suit, a bullet hole in his neck and cheek. In rigor mortis, he still held a sniper rifle aimed at the valley where they had parked below.