“And there are a hundred in Los Alamos?” Dohi asked.
“Sounds like it,” Corrin said. “I can’t confirm, because I was never at Los Alamos.”
“That Chimera said there were hundreds of human prisoners, too,” Jacobs said.
“I’m not surprised. We had plenty of prisoners in Seattle. Most eventually became food.”
Beckham tried not to picture his family, but he couldn’t help but imagine them as slaves. They had to do something to help those people, and maybe…
“What are you thinking, Captain?” Jacobs said.
“Nothing good, but this is giving me an idea. Something that could give us an advantage if we get the right people to carry it out.”
“Like us?” Dohi asked. “Ghost?”
“Like Team Ghost,” Beckham said. He turned to their Chimera ally. “And Corrin.”
***
Ringgold watched the sun rise over the Gulf of Mexico with Chief of Staff Soprano walking beside her. The view might have been partially blocked by the tall watchtowers overlooking the beach, and the rolls of razor wire gracing the tops of walls and fences, but she tried to find beauty in the hues of orange and red bleeding over the horizon.
This might be her last sunrise as the president of the Allied States. It might be the last sunrise over what remained of the free people of the Allied States.
Tomorrow morning was the deadline for her to submit to Azrael and his Land of the New Gods. Today would be filled with preparations for that fateful moment, when the forces of that monster descended on her to try and take what little they had left.
A group of Secret Service agents shadowed her as she and Soprano walked down the street. She headed toward a pier that had been built along the shore. A half-dozen sailing ships and yachts were docked there. Some had already launched to sea, fleeing from the upcoming battle, but more had showed up to help the fight.
Seeing other citizens answer the call to action filled her with confidence.
Two of the agents walked ahead onto the pier, then ducked into a forty-foot yacht. Once a luxury vessel, the military had since requisitioned it to transport troops and refugees. It had most recently found its way here from the Florida Keys, after transporting nearly fifty people to Galveston.
“All clear, ma’am,” one of the agents said as he returned to the top deck. “They’re all waiting for you below.”
One of the agents helped Ringgold up onto the vessel as gentle waves rocked it. Soprano followed. They then went down into the belly of the seacraft where a long wooden table was surrounded by a few chairs bolted to the deck on one half and a plush booth bench on the other.
At the table were General Cornelius, General Souza, LNO Festa, Captain Beckham, Master Sergeant Fitzpatrick, and Doctor Kate Lovato.
She drew strength from having these people join her in this boat today. They were advisers and confidantes, each adept and skilled in their vocations. But they were also her friends, the closest thing she had to family left in this world.
They stood as she descended the last steps toward them.
“Thank you all for being here this morning,” she said. “Please, have a seat.”
Soprano wedged his way into the cramped space to stand behind her.
“No matter what happens tomorrow, you have stood beside me through the worst times in American history, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart,” she said. “We’ve adapted and overcome challenges no one ever dreamed this country would face. And tomorrow might just be the strongest test yet… But I didn’t call you here to spout a bunch of inspirational platitudes.”
She looked at everyone in turn, again soaking in the confidence she drew from their presence.
“You all have been actively involved in the defenses of the base, and while I trust our allies from Canada and Mexico to help in that matter, what we have to discuss here must stay classified,” she continued. “A few of you have presented ideas that may improve our odds tomorrow. I want to explore these opportunities and see how we can support them. Dr. Lovato, please give us an update on your mission.”
“Madam President, my team has isolated the strain of anthrax bacteria from the grenade the Chimera scouts brought to Outpost Houston,” Kate said. “We produced enough to seed the Variant network with the bacteria. It’s not a complex bioweapon, but it’s effective. With it, if we choose our locations carefully, we estimate that we can infect over ninety percent of the Variant network and any masterminds or other beasts attached to it.”
“I take it that infection won’t completely destroy the network in time to stop tomorrow’s attack,” Ringgold said.
“I’m afraid not. However, if our teams deploy the weapon in time, they can destroy small parts of the network as the bacteria continues to breed and kill the webbing.”
“Will that help us?” Cornelius asked.
“It will at least cut off the front-line forces from communicating with their base during the battle,” Kate said. “The destruction will likely continue well after tomorrow, too.”
“That sounds promising,” Souza said. “How many teams would you need to carry out this task?”
“Sammy was able to provide projections for us.” Kate unfurled a map over the table, pointing to locations around the Houston area and beyond. “Even if we stick close to base, we estimate that we can achieve ninety percent coverage via bacterial spread if we attack these fifteen targets.”
“Fifteen teams?” Festa asked. “That’s a lot of manpower we won’t have on our walls. Can we use less?”
“I don’t think so,” Kate said. “But we can use small teams. Maybe three people at most. Just enough to ensure that at least half the teams inject their samples so we can succeed. Using fifteen small teams will ensure that even if one team is eliminated, we still have the other fourteen target locations in play.”
“Fifteen separate teams will also get the job done much faster than a handful of teams trying to travel between multiple targets,” Souza said.
“Exactly,” Kate said. “That means they can return to the walls as soon as they’re done, well before the attack commences. I know it will be dangerous out there tonight. With the New Gods preparing for a dawn attack, we don’t know what our teams will face. But we’ve got to do this if we have any hopes of destroying their network.”
“Can we launch the injections earlier?” Souza asked.
“My lab techs are packaging the bacteria and spores now into syringes that these teams can inject into the webbing sites we’ve identified. They’ll be ready to go by tonight, so we can launch these missions before the attack on Galveston commences. That still gives our teams time to return to base.”
“Also, from what Kate tells me, this network may reach all the way out to Los Alamos, where they suspect the Prophet may be,” Beckham said. “Thanks to Corrin, we confirmed that the Prophet’s headquarters is there. This could very well kill him.”
“I don’t see why we don’t just bomb them,” Souza said. “We have some bunker busters left.”
“We have, at best, circumstantial evidence from the science team and the word from a single Chimera,” Cornelius said. “You want to expend what little ordnance we have left on Los Alamos?”
“If it will kill the Prophet, yes,” Souza said.
“We don’t know that it will,” Cornelius said. “Los Alamos is an enormous facility. It’s going to take more than a few bunker busters to completely wipe it out, and if we miss, he escapes.”
“As much as I trust Dr. Lovato, our flyover of Los Alamos revealed nothing,” Festa said. “This might very well be a setup like Las Vegas. The Chimera scout could just as easily have been told to give false information after his capture.”
“This Prophet is not a dumb strategist,” Cornelius said. “I do think he could conceal his location if he chose. So I’m not convinced Los Alamos doesn’t contain a New Gods’ facility. But even if it does, what if this Prophet isn’t actually in Los Alamos when we bomb it? We can
’t be sure he’s there right now, and we have no way of knowing his current location.”
“That’s true, as much as I hate to admit it,” Kate said. “Since we can’t listen in on the network, there is no way to track him. If we bomb Los Alamos at the wrong time, when he’s away from the base, then we’ll lose him completely.”
“Not to mention the New Gods claim to have control of the First Fleet,” Cornelius said. “He might be on the First Fleet for all we know. Either way, they’ve now got more formidable firepower and we might very well need every last bit of airborne support and ordnance we have to fight against our own naval vessels.”
Ringgold felt sick at the thought, but she knew Cornelius was right.
“There’s one other thing that we haven’t even discussed,” she said. “According to the intel from the prisoner Chimera, there are hundreds of our people imprisoned there, and I’m not going to kill them on a hunch that the Prophet is there.”
Souza seemed to consider that. “Given the conversation, I suppose these bombs would be more impactful if the New Gods forced our hand and we needed to use them on the First Fleet.”
“Agreed,” Cornelius said. “Let’s focus on using our remaining ordnance to defend Galveston first. Then if we survive this battle, we can inventory what we have left and see if we can deploy it in an offensive move. But none of that really matters if we can’t defend this island.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Ringgold said. “Priority number one is keeping Galveston alive.”
“Madam President, I have an idea on how we can destroy Los Alamos without diverting too much of our defenses,” Beckham said.
“What’s that?” Ringgold asked.
“I’m recommending Ghost launch an attack on Los Alamos while the New Gods have their attention turned toward us. They won’t see it coming.”
“We already decided we can’t send an attack like last time,” Souza said. “There’s no way we can afford to send our best team to what could be a slaughter. We would need an army.”
“We have one,” Beckham said.
Ringgold stared at the Captain for a moment. “Explain, Reed.”
“As President Ringgold mentioned, we know there are hundreds of human prisoners in Los Alamos, many of which I’d guess by now are probably soldiers captured in Las Vegas.”
“No surprise,” Souza said. “They’ll be feeding on them, I’m sure.”
“Yes, but they also use many for hard labor,” Beckham said. “Just like how the collaborators try to convert humans to work for them, the New Gods have been culling our people for converts. They also perform experiments on them and turn them into Chimeras, which takes time.”
“Like Corrin,” Fitz confirmed. “He was once a free man, but was held against his will when they turned him into a Chimera.”
“Exactly like Corrin,” Beckham said. He turned toward Fitz. “You’ve seen Corrin in action. You trust him, right?”
“At this point, yes, I can say without hesitation, we can trust him.”
“There might be a hundred more Chimeras like Corrin, who don’t want to be a part of the New Gods, waiting in Los Alamos,” Beckham said. “They’re dry tinder, waiting for a spark.”
“If they’re half as angry and loyal as Corrin is, then that’ll be more than enough,” Fitz said.
“That’s why I’m recommending sending Ghost with Corrin into Los Alamos,” Beckham said. “Start an insurrection. The New Gods will have to fight us here in Texas while at the same time trying to put down an internal rebellion, all while anthrax is spreading through their networks.”
Ringgold’s thoughts turned toward her deceased friend and vice president, the final moments of his life playing across her mind.
“Anything we can do to send these evil abominations back into the pits of hell sounds good to me,” she said. “We must cause as much damage as possible with what few resources we have over the next twenty-four hours if humanity has any hope of survival.”
“We’re all about inflicting damage,” Fitz said with a half-smile.
“And Dr. Lovato, if I understand correctly, even if we lose the battle for Galveston, your bioweapon will continue to attack them,” Ringgold said.
“That’s right,” Kate said.
“We owe it to our allies in other countries to do this,” Ringgold said. “Even if we can’t stop the New Gods, perhaps this weapon will. We’ll rid the world of the monsters here that the United States inadvertently seeded the planet with. Then there will still be hope for humanity. And should we survive, we can resume talks of more aggressive offensive actions against a crippled enemy. Anyone opposed to this?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“Good,” Ringgold said. “As soon as we’re done here, General Cornelius and Captain Beckham, I’d like you to identify teams capable of delivering these anthrax doses to the Variant network.”
“Yes, Madam President,” they both replied.
“Look, I understand these strategies give us a chance, but they pull away much needed forces to protect the people here, innocent people,” Souza said. “I’m also concerned the New Gods might be planning to use biological weapons like anthrax since they had it on their Chimeras before. What’s to say they don’t also have more weapons like that they plan to use against us?”
“You’re absolutely right,” Ringgold said. “General Cornelius, do you still have your stock of gas masks available?”
“Yes,” Cornelius said. “I’ll distribute them among our troops. We’ll requisition everything else we can to help protect our men and women on the walls.”
“We can help the hospital and combat medics prepare standard issue chemical and biological warfare medications from the pharmacies,” Kate said.
“I can dig into our warehouses, too,” Cornelius said. “We inherited a great deal of the CDC’s Strategic National Stockpile years ago that might come in handy.”
“Good,” Ringgold said. “Lastly, I’ve confirmed both Canada and Mexico will finally send the reinforcements they originally promised after their respective generals shared the video of Lemke’s death from the New Gods.”
“When will they arrive?” Kate asked.
“A few planes will arrive in the middle of the night.” She paused. “Unfortunately, they’re just as low on vehicles, fuel, and ammunition as us. Most of their troops aren’t estimated to make it until approximately 0800 hours tomorrow.”
“That might be too late,” Fitz said.
“We must hold out as long as possible for their arrival. It’s up to all of you to make that happen. Any more questions?”
The group remained silent.
Ringgold stood. “Good. We all have work to do. Let’s go make what’s left of our country and those who have made the ultimate sacrifice proud.”
— 21 —
“So it begins,” Horn said.
Timothy sat in the passenger seat of the Humvee that Master Sergeant Horn drove using a pair of NVGs to navigate the wreckage outside of Outpost Houston. They were on their way to a northwest suburb. Their mission was to deploy the anthrax-containing syringe on one of the Alpha holes identified by a recon team.
“You get some time with your girls and the dogs?” Timothy asked.
“Yeah, but never enough,” Horn said. “How was that walk? You stayed out in public, right?”
Before Timothy answered, Horn spoke again.
“I was watching, so I’ll know if you’re lying to me.”
Timothy felt his face warm and fingered the bracelet Tasha had given him as he considered his response. He wasn’t sure how to answer that one without getting a dressing down if Horn was telling the truth.
But he had a feeling Horn wasn’t here to bust his balls. The guy was probably here because Beckham had sent him to watch out for him.
They weren’t alone, thankfully, not that Boyd could do much to help if Horn did want to kick Timothy in the ass.
The injured solider sat in the back of the SUV.
He wore a cast from the hairline fractures in his wrist, and Timothy knew the man was in a lot of pain, but Boyd had insisted that he come along.
The three of them made up one of the fifteen teams that were assigned to inject the anthrax bacteria the science team had prepared.
“No answer?” Horn said. “Probably for the best. It’s good that I like you.”
“I’m thankful for that, Master Sergeant.”
“Call me Horn, Big Horn, but not Master Sergeant, sir, or future dad-in-law.” He directed his NVGs at Timothy.
Dad-in-law?
Timothy was at a loss for words again, but then Horn gave him a big shit-eating grin.
“I’m fucking with you, man,” Horn said. Then his face grew serious again. “Except for the dad-in-law part. Don’t be getting any big ideas too soon.”
“Okay.” Timothy gripped his rifle, trying to pay attention to the road too, since Horn seemed to be more interested in chitchat.
“Don’t tell him I told you, but Beckham wanted to be here too,” Horn said. “Unfortunately, he got stuck on wall duty.”
“Good for morale,” Boyd said. “Hell, even before I met the guy, I heard stories.”
“Was I in them?” Horn asked.
“The big ginger oaf who could squeeze the life out of a Variant?” Boyd asked. “Of course, brother. Team Ghost was—and is—a legend.”
“‘Big ginger oaf’ better mean the motherfucking, ass-kicking mountain machine,” Horn said.
“Right, that’s exactly what I meant,” Boyd said.
Timothy chuckled and watched the highway. It was devoid of life, filled with vehicles left to rot on the cracked asphalt.
All the good humor they had shared quickly evaporated as they drew closer to their target. In the green hue of his optics, Timothy spotted desiccated skeletal forms lying against the side of the highway.
“Stay frosty,” Horn said.
He took an offramp and guided the Humvee down a road framed with large trees and overgrown weeds. He had to slow the vehicle as they thumped over debris in the street.
Extinction Cycle: Dark Age Box Set | Books 1-4 Page 121