Extinction Cycle Dark Age (Book 2): Extinction Inferno

by Smith, Nicholas Sansbury

  Accompanied by the collaborators, the horde of monsters had easily overrun the final defenses of the base and consumed the command building.

  “Lord have Mercy on their souls,” Ace said.

  “They didn’t stand a chance,” Rico said.

  “I hope their sacrifice was worth it,” Mendez said.

  “That depends on us now,” Fitz replied. “I just hope the other outposts and bases fare better than this one did.”

  — 10 —

  Fischer never got the opportunity to share a drink with Tran and Chase in Galveston. Instead, they were already on their way to work to Outpost El Paso in a C-23 Sherpa with Sergeant Sharp and a few of Cornelius’ soldiers. The propellers buzzed as they began their descent.

  Coming in at the dead of night, Fischer was thankful he had grabbed a couple hours of shuteye on the flight. He had a feeling he was going to need it with this new mission. General Cornelius had given him no easy task.

  Moonlight illuminated the craggy Texas landscape, nearly silhouetting the Franklin mountains overlooking the Briggs Army Airfield within the outpost.

  “Almost there,” Sharp said. He rotated for a better view, his new blue armband showing.

  Fischer valued loyalty. Chase and Tran had proven their fealty to him time and again. Usually he would be skeptical of a man like Sharp who so quickly abandoned his post to join another’s army. But as the Sherpa’s wheels touched down on the runway, he couldn’t blame the sergeant for joining up with Cornelius.

  The retired general knew how to get things done and might be one of the best hopes the Allied States had of surviving the Variants.

  The plane’s prop engines wound down, and it taxied to a stop. As soon as the side door opened, the chilling night air flooded the plane’s interior. Fischer stood, following Sharp and the soldiers out.

  A large man in military fatigues waited on the tarmac.

  “Welcome to El Paso,” he said in a gravelly voice.

  The soldier offered a hand to Fischer as he spoke with a strong northwest Texas drawl that might’ve been shared by one of Fischer’s neighbors.

  “Pleased to have y’all here. I’m Lieutenant Riggs, in charge of organizing defensive operations. Born and bred right here in El Paso.”

  “Good to meet a fellow local,” Fischer said.

  “I know the city and the land around it like the back of my hand. Still, I can’t tell you how glad we are to have your boys working with us.”

  “Honored to help with the war efforts,” Fischer said. “Anything I can do to kill some Variants is all right by me. Have my men already setup the prospecting equipment?”

  “Yes, sir. Follow me.” Riggs motioned to a pair of Humvees idling near the airstrip.

  The two-vehicle convoy took off, racing away from the airfield. They passed through darkened city streets; their headlights illuminated craters in the ground. Those craters looked like Variant tunnels that had recently been filled in. Scree piled up next to broken adobe houses, and bullet-hole pocked cars lined many of the streets.

  “We took a beating last night,” Riggs said without turning.

  “We did too,” Fischer said. “Lost a lot of good men myself.”

  “Cornelius warned me you didn’t have enough to adequately outfit these trucks. But he promised you’d make do. Seems like your men have done just that.”

  Spotlights from guard towers probed the darkness. Banks of floodlights hooked up to rumbling diesel generators provided a wall of light over the huge concrete ramparts topped with razor wire looping around the outpost.

  “We’re headed straight into Variant country at the foot of the mountains,” Riggs said.

  “With all these tunnels, seems to me like everything’s become Variant country now,” Fischer said.

  “If this works tonight, we can start reclaiming what’s rightfully ours.” Riggs held up his radio. “Bravo 1, Echo 1 actual. We’re approaching the gate now.”

  The radio crackled with a reply. “Copy, Echo 1. You’re clear to proceed. Good luck out there.”

  A huge steel gate rolled back with the assistance of a growling motor. Heavily armed guards stood outside the entrance.

  “Lost about a quarter of our men last night,” Riggs said.

  “But no contacts yet tonight?” Tran asked.

  “Not out here,” Riggs replied. “As late as 1800 we were still dealing with a few stragglers that hadn’t retreated. They were mostly hanging around the mountains.”

  “How are the other outposts faring?” Chase asked.

  “We’re receiving reports the Variants have launched attacks,” Riggs said. “Size and scope vary, but safe to say, if that’s any indication, we’ve got to be ready for anything. This will be the ultimate testing ground for the equipment.”

  “From the sounds of it, we don’t have time for testing and we need to get this tech deployed around the outposts ASAP,” Chase said.

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Riggs rubbed the stubble on his cheek. “Got to prove it works though, and to do that, we got to go where the beasts are.”

  “Trial by fire,” Fischer said.

  A rooster tail of dirt kicked up from the first vehicle as it tore over the dusty terrain beyond the walls. The Humvee bucked as they rumbled off-road and the headlights captured dried tumbleweeds and prickly cacti.

  Farther ahead a series of mobile light posts had been setup. Beside them was a truck that looked like a militarized RV with long arrays of netted cables stretching across the ground.

  “Ah, the geophone truck,” Fischer said.

  While most of the netted cables stretched into the darkness, he knew sensors were scattered along them, capable of picking up vibrating seismic waves coursing through the ground.

  Five men were already stationed around the vehicle with weapons, patrolling the rock-strewn landscape. A machine gunner lay prone atop the truck.

  The two Humvees filed in next to the mobile unit. Fischer opened the door to let himself out. Tran and Chase trailed him into the rocky landscape with Riggs.

  “We’ve also got scouts posted with NVGs and thermal binos around each of the trucks,” Riggs said.

  He gestured to another three trucks scattered in the distance, each with their own set of floodlights. They appeared to be a cross between a lunar buggy and a Soviet-style Katyusha multiple rocket launcher truck. Those were the vibroseis trucks, each equipped with a large piston-driven shaker capable of generating seismic waves.

  “You think one squad per truck is going to be enough to protect them when those monsters attack?” Fischer asked.

  “It’ll have to be,” Riggs said. “We can’t divert more manpower from base given the reports of attacks elsewhere.”

  “Seems pretty risky for valuable equipment like this,” Chase said, eyes narrowed. “Especially if you’re expecting an attack.”

  “Worst case, we call in air support and hightail it out,” Riggs. “I’d rather lose equipment than men. It’s not ideal, but it’s what we’ve got to work with.”

  “Then let’s not waste any time huffing about it,” Fischer said. He set off for the geophone truck, spotting familiar faces working at the instruments inside the back cabin. He raised a hand in greeting, and they waved back.

  Green screens glowed in front of each. Soon those monitors would come to life when the thumper trucks activated, generating vibrations deep into the ground.

  Depending on how those seismic waves bounced toward the geophone truck’s sensors, the engineers could identify the density of rock and earth beneath their feet. That meant it could also detect the hollow cavities where there was no rock. Exactly the kind of signal they expected from tunnels dug by the Variants.

  “If we can prove this system works, then we can save a lot of lives by tracking Variant tunnels before they burrow under our walls,” Riggs said.

  “And when we detect burrowing Variants, I’m assuming you have the means to deal with them?” Fischer asked.

  Riggs cracked
a cocky grin. “We’ve had the past few decades to perfect bunker-busting bombs. You sure as hell bet that if we find the monsters underground, we can blow them sky high.”

  “That’s what I like to hear,” Tran said.

  Fischer grabbed a metal bar on the back of the geophone truck and hoisted himself into the open back door. He slid in beside the two engineers, and Riggs climbed in with him. Sharp, Tran, Chase, and the others formed a perimeter around the vehicle to reinforce the meager security forces.

  “Good to see you all made it out here safely,” Fischer said to the engineers.

  “Likewise. We’re glad to have you with us, sir,” the nearest engineer said, a portly man in his early fifties with a crown of graying hair. “Everything is ready to go when you are.”

  “Time’s already ticking by, so tell the thumpers to start pounding ground.”

  “Yes, sir,” the engineer said. He relayed Fischer’s commands to the other trucks, and the burble of their engines echoed over the bleak landscape. Each time the thumpers slammed against the ground, Fischer could feel the tremor pass up through the geophone truck and into his bones.

  “Strange sensation,” Riggs said. “I feel like a T-Rex is running at us.”

  The thumping continued as if the trucks were playing the Earth like a bass drum. Fischer looked over the engineers’ shoulders, watching the resulting signals passing to the geophone truck.

  “What can you see?” Riggs asked, squinting at the screens.

  “Sure ain’t any oil down here,” Fischer said. “No natural gas deposits, if I’m reading it right.”

  “Yes, sir,” the graying engineer said. “Nothing so far. No aberrations to indicate tunnels.”

  “Better not be,” Riggs said. “We collapsed the ones we found earlier. Took more effort than I’d like to admit since we relied solely on the holes the Alphas left behind. If Variants are coming back to attack El Paso tonight, they’ll still have to pass back this way.”

  “Your men did a damn fine job then—” Fisher stopped, spotting something on the screen.

  Lines bounced around, indicating varying depths and densities of the ground. One of those lines had suddenly dropped. That meant there was a void there. A sure sign of a natural gas deposit if it had been hundreds of feet deeper.

  But at only a few feet beneath the earth’s surface, he knew better.

  “Is that one of them?” Fischer asked.

  “It’s an anomaly, certainly,” the engineer said. “But there are also a few small caverns around these parts. Nothing unusual.”

  The thumper trucks continued sending seismic waves coursing through the Earth. Fischer blinked at the lines zig-zagging across the engineers’ screens. The shapes became mesmerizing, almost hypnotic as the engineers surveyed the land.

  He thought he heard a howl break through the night air. But the diesel engines and thumping from the machines made it difficult to tell whether it was real or not. He looked around at the others. Their attention remained on the screens.

  Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. His exhaustion was getting the better of him, like it did in the tunnels back under his fields. He could still hear his wife’s voice now, warning him danger was at hand.

  “Keep an eye on that so-called cavern,” Fischer said.

  Their efforts continued for another thirty minutes as they identified potential sites to investigate, but nothing that leapt out as Variant activity.

  Then the first engineer leaned back, mouth open, his fingers frozen at his keyboard. “Sir, the anomaly. It’s growing… and… and it’s headed straight toward us.”

  Riggs started barking orders into his radio, telling his men to be on alert.

  “We’ve detected the formation of what looks like five tunnels in total. The Variants must be burrowing as we speak.”

  Fischer turned to Riggs. “We got the tunnel locations you wanted. Now how about sending them all to a fiery hell like you promised?”

  “You give me the coordinates, I’ll send the bombs,” Riggs said.

  “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 t
he 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.