“I got a better idea,” Fitz said.
Corrin glanced up with his golden eyes.
“If they’re still tracking this thing, we can send it far from here. Send the New Gods on a wild goose chase and prevent an attack on Calgary,” Fitz said. He took the bloody device, holding it like a hand grenade waiting to go off.
“Patch Corrin, up,” Fitz said. “It’s time we use him to our advantage.”
Ace grinned and Dohi nodded.
“You good with that?” Fitz asked.
Corrin grunted. “If I get a chance at revenge, then I’m more than good with it.”
— 10 —
On the way to Galveston, Beckham had learned that General Hernandez had arrived from Mexico. Just like Canada, they had sent only a few hundred troops instead of what they had initially promised.
Now he sat next to Rico and Horn at a dining table in an opulent room of the Moody Mansion, a once popular tourist attraction and museum. The neglected informational plaques hanging from the walls or posted on stands were covered in cobwebs.
“Think this place is haunted?” Horn asked.
“Maybe,” Rico said. “You scared?”
“Nah, ghosts are afraid of me.”
Rico raised a brow. “Maybe it’s the BO, man. We do still have water at these outposts, you know?”
Footsteps echoed through the building before Horn could get off a retort. Three Secret Service agents entered, and Beckham rose instinctively, Rico and Horn doing the same.
Next came President Ringgold and General Souza.
“Thank you for making the trip back from Houston,” Ringgold said as they saluted her. She motioned for them all to sit back down around the dining table, then checked her watch. “General Cornelius and the others should be here soon.”
“Will General Hernandez or Vance be meeting with us?” Beckham asked.
“No,” Ringgold said. “As far as they and everyone else on this island knows, this meeting isn’t happening. There are too many people flooding into Galveston, and we don’t want to risk the chance that any collaborators are among them. Loose lips, you know?”
A few more officers from Cornelius and Ringgold’s armed forces filtered in before Cornelius arrived.
“That’s everyone,” Ringgold said, looking between them all. “We’re gathered today with intel that can change the war.”
Every exhausted face seemed to light up at the prospect.
“Until now, only a few of you were aware of the intel our science team recently recovered,” she said. “Thanks to their work with the webbing network, they identified that the so-called Prophet and the heart of the New Gods operation is in Las Vegas.”
“It is extremely important that you reveal this information to no one except those we’ve given prior clearance,” Souza said. “Initially, when we got this intel, we considered sending an offensive with our new allies, but the risk of the collaborators finding out is too great.”
So we’re sending in a few fire-teams, Beckham thought. Just like the past. A few good men and women to save us all.
He wasn’t sure it would be enough.
“If we don’t hit the New Gods hard with our allies, then how are we going to stop this Prophet and all their forces?” he asked.
“We still plan on launching a counter-offensive on the New Gods, but our tactics rely more on surgical precision than brute force for this mission,” Souza said. “We will distribute the other troops by priority to the outposts that need them the most.”
The mood in the room seemed to shift as the officers waited to hear this new strategy. Beckham could tell none of this was what they had expected, especially after Ringgold had been promising more extensive offensive action against the New Gods.
“I know you’re worried,” Ringgold said. “And you have every right to be.” She paused a second, as if bracing herself. “Last night we received word that our last outposts in eastern Florida were taken.”
The room was silent for a long moment.
“This is no longer a war of superior technology or weapons or even numbers,” Ringgold said. “We have to win by being smarter than our enemy with the forces we have left, and the people in this room are the best we have left. I’m going to let Cornelius and Souza fill you in on the details.”
Souza leaned forward. “From our best estimates, Las Vegas is a cesspool of Variant activity. The city served no economic or military purpose to the Allied States during our reconsolidation, so we abandoned it and the Variants must have moved in.”
Cornelius unrolled a map over the table. It was a satellite image showing the black and brown ruins of Las Vegas, dated from five years ago before they had lost contact with most of their reliable imaging satellites.
“Thank you,” Souza said. He looked at the map and then pointed at a location northwest of where the once-famous hotels like the Bellagio, MGM Grand, and the Wynn had been. “The science team triangulated the signals. Most of them propagate from here, the University Medical Center.”
He scanned the map and then tapped another location. “And while there aren’t as many signals coming from here, the Palazzo is our second guess. We believe one of these locations is likely to house the Prophet.”
“I take it he’s not alone out there,” Horn said.
“Intercepted communications over the network suggest the presence of at least four individual masterminds in the vicinity of Vegas,” Souza said. “From past experience, we know the infrastructure and number of minions required to feed those beasts means we’re likely looking at several hundred to a couple thousand Variants in the area.”
“These reports lead us to believe the New Gods have spread through the city like a bad cancer,” Cornelius said. “The science team also informs us the webbing network is unlikely to survive in the intense heat and sun exposure of the desert. That means it’s highly likely the monsters have taken advantage of the vast network of empty tunnels, drainage pits, and water lines beneath the city, not to mention all the massive abandoned casinos and hotels. That will be where you’ll probably find the highest density of webbing and monsters.”
“From previous attacks on Variant hives, we know that bombing these types of nests can be ineffective at best and give us a false sense of security,” Souza continued. “That’s why we’re relying on each of you to cut out this disease infecting Sin City at its roots, to ensure it never comes back.”
“So no air support?” Horn asked.
“Air support will be limited,” Cornelius said. “Not only are we limited by our diminishing stockpiles of ordnance, but the truth is our air superiority is ineffective at clearing out the vast, unknown networks of Variant tunnels underground. We can only truly cleanse this city of monsters by foot.”
Souza nodded. “Our actions will be swift and fierce, catching the Variants unaware. In order to do that, we will come at the city in two main task forces of approximately a battalion size each. Task Force Alpha will be hitting Vegas from the north, roughly following what was Interstate 15. Task Force Bravo will come in from the southern approach on Interstate 15. Each battalion will split their forces, infiltrating the city both aboveground and through the storm drains and sewers. Company Cos will go over specific routes in more detail later.
“Team Ghost will lead the incursion into the UMC, which we believe is more likely to house the Prophet. The only Canadians that will know about this mission are the ones escorting Ghost from Calgary. Captain Beckham, you and Horn will head into the Palazzo.”
Cornelius looked toward Beckham. “You will also be coordinating with TF Alpha and TF Bravo. Our goal is to distract the enemy with this larger force focusing on the main strip, drawing attention away from the special operations teams launching more covert attacks.”
“We only get one shot at this,” Souza said. “Once the enemy finds out we know they’re in Vegas, they’re liable to cut and run. So, we need to strike quickly, with both the task forces and special operations teams acting in pa
rallel.”
Beckham put a hand over his prosthetic, remembering the mission where he had lost so much of his body and soul. Without a doubt, this would be another one where good men died.
He glanced at Horn. The big man was scratching his beard, probably thinking the same thing. But like so many other times in the past, they had no choice but to serve and protect those they loved.
“This mission is going to be a success,” Ringgold said. “We will cut off the head of this diseased snake, and the New Gods will wither and die.”
“There’s one more thing you all need to know,” Souza said. “As the war has raged, it’s always been our more experienced brothers and sisters putting themselves in harms’ way. Unfortunately, that means many of them have been lost to the Variants. The two task forces will consist of many men and women who have very little experience outside of defending our walls.”
Beckham thought of Timothy. He was one of the few recruits with actual experience outside the confines of their outposts. He had no doubt the young man would be sent away for this mission, but he held out hope that somehow Timothy would be safe.
“For now, I need all of you to make preparations to leave with your team,” Ringgold said. “You are to report to mustering stations around Galveston in three hours for immediate departure. Like I said, we don’t want to give the Variants any time to react or for any collaborators to send word back to the New Gods.”
The room slowly emptied at Ringgold’s dismissal, but she asked for Beckham and Horn to remain behind.
“The Allied States owes everything it has to you,” she said. “I can’t begin to tell you how frightened I am about the future, of losing you both, but this is it. If you can kill the Prophet, we can end this war.”
“We won’t let you down,” Horn said.
“You never do,” she replied.
Beckham simply nodded and left the room, more ready than ever before to fight the evil that had taken so much from them. It would be over soon, but before it was, he would have to kill a lot more monsters to keep the people he loved safe.
***
The heavy beat of the Black Hawk’s rotors thrummed through Timothy’s bones as he stared out the open side doors of the bird. Glimmering stars punctuated the night, and a full moon cast its glow over the desert landscape.
If he claimed he wasn’t scared, that would be a lie.
But he was also ready for this battle, knowing he was part of something that could end up in history books.
Depending on who won, he thought.
He had known something was up when his team was ordered to return to Galveston from Houston, but it wasn’t until he got his orders he realized how significant this mission really was.
Beneath them the world was a sea of black, barely visible. They had spent the past night and day on their way to the front lines, hopping between temporary encampments set up by scouts stretching from Houston to El Paso and then onwards to Vegas. His team, Recon Sigma, was assigned to Task Force Alpha, coming in from the north and clearing a route to their first objective, the Stratosphere Hotel.
While some of the other teams in the task force would take the storm drains and sewage tunnels underground, Timothy’s team would be one of the few scouting out the enemy territory aboveground.
Once they converged on the Stratosphere Hotel, they would follow the strip south toward the Venetian Hotel and Casino.
Discreetness was key. If the New Gods got any warning, the leadership would be gone before the Allied States’ forces reached the city.
Timothy could feel the tendrils of exhaustion wrapping his insides, but the adrenaline of closing in on their target had kept him awake the whole time.
“Almost there,” Ruckley said over the comm channel. She checked the glowing dials of her wristwatch and then pulled her sleeve back over the watch.
Wong checked his rifle, then nudged Boyd awake. “Hey, man, better get ready.”
Boyd jolted awake. “Shit, we’re nearing Sin City?”
Timothy nodded. “How the hell do you sleep over the sound of a helicopter?”
“It’s a gift,” Boyd said.
The other soldiers in the Black Hawk made final combat checks of their weapons as the chopper started its final descent. For a second, Timothy recalled those few minutes he had stolen with Tasha before leaving Galveston. He missed her and relished the moments they’d shared.
Reaching into his vest he pulled out something she had given him before he left—a bracelet of wooden beads. She had strung the beads over a piece of cloth cut from one of her shirts. It was meant to remind him she would be with him wherever he went, and she promised it would bring him good luck.
He slipped it over his wrist, hoping it would help him like she had said.
“Here we go,” Ruckley said.
Timothy clicked down his night-vision goggles. The black-and-green world around him was filled with other choppers coming in low toward Vegas. Humvees, Strykers, and other vehicles that had been transported via C-130s and other transport aircraft shadowed them on the ground.
He imagined how many Variants, Chimeras, and collaborators they would be striking down when they got to Vegas. Finally, he was a soldier fighting for his country, fighting to honor his dad’s sacrifice.
The copilot turned back to them and shouted over the thrum of the engines. “ETA five minutes!”
“Ready, Private?” Boyd said, leaning toward Timothy.
“Hell, yeah.”
He felt another flash of fear and wished he was back with Tasha for a moment. But as he looked around at the other men and women on the chopper, he realized this is where he belonged.
The chopper swooped in past hotels and casinos at the north side of the city. Many of the buildings were nothing but scaffolding and rubble. Timothy spotted a street covered in some kind of arched white roof, most of it bent and blackened. Next to it was a casino with only a few letters left on a sign that said “GOLDEN.” Nothing about it looked golden now.
Another casino across the street had been nearly leveled, but its front wall still stood, announcing “FOUR QUEENS.”
“Any sign of contacts?” Ruckley asked over her headset.
“Nothing yet! LZ is clear,” reported the primary pilot.
The chopper dipped toward a street lined with abandoned rusty cars and mountains of trash. Some of the debris whipped around as they descended.
The wheels of the bird hit the street.
“Go, go, go,” Ruckley said.
The soldiers jumped off the Black Hawk, ducking low under the rotor wash. Timothy followed Boyd and Wong, Ruckley tailing them. A half-dozen other choppers disgorged men and women into the empty street. The soldiers spread out into their individual squads, forming a perimeter around those still unloading.
Once the last soldier had his boots on the ground, the choppers took off. Their engine noise dissipated as they vanished back into the night. The squads spread into the ruined city, taking their individual routes as they began the advance.
Ruckley signaled for Wong to take point, and Boyd took rearguard. They filtered past an old semi, its tires rotted and deflated. Timothy roved his gun barrel over their shadows, listening for any rasping growl, the clatter of claws, or clicking joints as they passed a couple of wedding chapels.
Ahead Timothy saw an enormous glass cone on a spindly tower, stretching far higher than the rest of the boulevard.
That must be the Stratosphere, he thought. Our target.
Timothy trained all his senses on their surroundings, looking for the predatorial eyes or snapping teeth of a monster. His skin crawled as he waited for one of them to shriek, announcing that the battle had begun in earnest.
All he heard was the soft pat of boots on the street and sidewalk, along with the distant engine noise from the vehicle convoys and choppers traveling elsewhere in Vegas. He looked toward the sky for a second. Additional troops would be parachuting into locations around the city, and he saw a few of their IR
tags glowing in the night, signifying their successful descent.
Still, they saw no signs of the enemy.
The night’s still young, Timothy thought. And maybe the monsters are still all underground.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that the beasts had received warning of the assault. Maybe they were preparing a massive defensive effort. He pushed those thoughts away and followed Wong, who led Recon Sigma down the street ahead of the main forces.
Glass shards covered the sidewalk, and Timothy peered inside an old diner with moldy booths and chairs. Plates and tables were broken and scattered inside. Among the debris, he saw a pair of old skeletons that had been picked clean, claw and teeth marks covering the bones.
But no recent signs of monsters.
Somewhere far across the city they heard the rattle of gunfire. Then a few more bursts.
Ruckley held her fist up, and the team paused. Other soldiers sifting through the street and nearby buildings found cover.
Timothy scoped the street, looking for movement near a manhole cover and storm drain. Then he adjusted his aim over the windows of a nearby hotel.
Nothing there either.
The gunfire quieted, and the teams began advancing again.
Wong took them the final stretch toward the Stratosphere tower. Skeletal branches from dead trees and bushes rustled in the wind. A few nearby buildings had crumbled into oblivion, their façades torn apart by the bombing and fighting that had taken place here nearly a decade ago.
They passed rusted out Humvees. A few skeletons lay around them, the rags of their ACUs flapping over their limbs next to weapons in utter disrepair.
Since they hadn’t run into enemy contacts, they were already ahead of schedule. Ruckley signaled for them to keep going, pointing toward the taller towers on the main strip. The closer they got, the more damage the structures had sustained.
Entire sides of buildings that were thirty, forty, or more stories tall were gone, revealing the guts of the former hotel rooms and restaurants inside. One hotel looked like some kind of circus tent, except half the tent’s roof was missing. A creepy looking clown stood above a sign, pointing toward the hotel.
Extinction Cycle: Dark Age Box Set | Books 1-4 Page 109