It is just who I am.
Carver takes a deep breath.
“Reveiren!” he says.
It means “search” to the humans. To me, it means “go and get the enemy”.
So, I do.
I follow my nose, swinging my head side-to-side, looking for a trap or some other foe that might be hiding. There are none.
I find the Alpha. He is hiding among other asps. They are gathered together in the corner of the room. I will kill it. It is what I do.
I am about to attack the infected asp. Its neck is just a short sprint away. As I coil to strike, something unexpected happens.
“Stop!” the giant asp says in a raspy, slurred voice.
I didn’t know they could talk.
I yell to Carver to join me.
Carver
Carver strode up to the Mal and saw the Alpha. He was surrounded by several warriors, his females, and the remaining children. The armored juveniles were hissing and snapping at the three operators, while they seemed to be paying special attention to Shrek.
Among them, being held by the healthy Variant guards, were two women and a teenage girl. Only the young girl was conscious as she whined and pled for her life.
Carver stared at the Variant leader. His shock of neon-red hair flopped back and forth as he moved. He had a deep scar that ran from his right shoulder down to his left hip. It was a miracle the wound that left that scar hadn’t killed it. Carver lined the sights of his 300 Blackout battle rifle onto the Alpha’s face, putting more and more pressure on the trigger. Just as he neared the trigger’s break, he heard the creature speak.
“Stop,” it croaked.
The team was dumbfounded.
“Leave,” it continued.
Carver recovered enough to reply.
“No! You die!” Carver yelled.
The Alpha nodded at a Variant holding one of the unconscious women. It bent her head to the side and opened its mouth to rip her throat open.
“No!” Carver shouted.
The Alpha grunted and the Variant warrior moved its jaws back.
“Leave,” it repeated.
“Not without them,” Carver said, pointing at the three prisoners.
“No,” it replied.
Carver dropped his slung rifle, letting it hang down in front of him. He slowly advanced at the Variant clan.
“Carver! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Shader yelled.
Carver ignored his friend and continued to advance. “Give them to us,” he said, now ten yards from the group of monsters.
“You Carver,” it replied. “No, Carver. Food.”
Carver tilted his head and in one, swift motion, reached behind his back and drew a sawed-off shotgun from its attached scabbard. He aimed at one of the females and blew the top of her head off. The decapitated corpse dropped to the concrete without a sound.
The Variants screamed and coiled to strike.
Carver racked the shotgun and pointed the blaster at the Alpha’s face.
“You ready to die? Release them.”
The Alpha screamed and the remaining infected backed down. It snapped and barked in its Variant voice, and the teenage prisoner was released. She staggered forward. Keele ran forward and grabbed her, then pulled her back behind the team.
“Carver, leave,” it said.
“All of them,” Carver spat. “ALL OF THEM!”
“Food,” it repeated.
Carver blew a hole in one of the juveniles, the double-aught slugs tearing a massive chunk from its armored back. The creature spasmed and its lifeless carcass dropped to the ground. He quickly racked another round and pointed it back at the Alpha.
“Release them all, and I will not kill you.”
The Alpha shuddered with anger. Black speckled spittle bubbled out of its mouth as it screamed its anger and fought to control its rage.
Carver stood stoically, his finger tickling the trigger. He had four more buckshot rounds in the tube. Even if they rushed him now, he’d get off at least two more shots. The Alpha knew Carver would kill it with his next shot if the prisoners weren’t released.
Time seemed to slow down as the Variant clan screamed and barked. Carver didn’t move.
Finally, the Alpha looked at the unconscious prisoners and chirped a command. They dropped the two women on the ground and stepped back.
Keele rushed forward and dragged them each by an arm. He pulled them behind the fireteam and brought his M4 back up and aimed.
“Go!” Carver yelled. “Leave!”
The Alpha moved to the back of the building where Carver could see an open door. The females followed closely behind, and the guards brought up the rear. All the while, the juveniles stood their ground, hissing and snapping at the humans.
As the Alpha got to the door it let out a roar, and the juveniles coiled to attack. It was the Alpha’s final act of defiance. Carver was prepared. He’d already put the front bead of his shotgun onto the face of the closest juvenile. He knew how fast they were, but they didn’t know how quick the SEAL’s response could be.
Carver pressed the trigger and, as the blaster recoiled from the shot, he racked the slide and fired again. Two decapitations inside of a second.
The remaining two leapt at the SEAL and his dog, only to meet the 62-grain .556 bullets from Keele and Shader. They were cut down before they could get airborne.
“Seahawk One. This is Red One actual,” Carver said. “Variants are escaping at the north side of the north hangar. Over.”
“Already on it, Red One. Over,” he heard, just as a machine gun let loose outside.
“Call in the Osprey. Over,” Carver said, as he bent over the unconscious women. A quick survey of their bodies revealed no wounds. They’d have to be cleared by the camp’s medic before they could be trusted.
“That was some bad-ass shit,” Keele said approvingly.
Carver nodded. It all seemed like a dream.
“Let’s get them out on the runway,” Carver said.
As the team gathered outside, they heard the Osprey’s twin engines in the distance.
“Well. Look at that,” Shader said with satisfaction.
Next to the north hangar were several fuel bladders, stacked in wooden frames. Shader tapped his backpack, which held the cargo straps, and looked at Carver.
“Let me contact Seahawk One,” Carver replied with a shrug. “Seahawk One, this is Red One actual. Do you copy? Over.”
“Red One actual. This is Sea Hawk One. We copy. Over.”
“We’ve found the fuel bladders. Is our AO clear? Over.”
“What’s your pause, Red One actual? Over.”
“We’re on the runway outside of the north hangar. Over.”
“Red One actual. We’re chasing the Alpha. The bastard’s fast. Give us one mike, and we’ll be at your position. Over.”
“Copy that, Seahawk One. We’ll hold position. Out.”
The sound of the helicopter’s door gunner rattled over the next half minute. A moment later, they heard the eruption of another Hellfire missile.
“Red Team. This is Seahawk One. Your AO is clear. Over.”
“Osprey One, this is Red One actual. Do you copy? Over.”
“I copy you, Red One actual. Over.”
“Osprey One. Come on in. We’ve secured our package. Over.”
“Outstanding, Red One actual. Osprey One will be on station in five mikes. Out.”
Five minutes later, the straps were secured to the wooden frame surrounding the bladder as Donaldson landed the V-22 nearby.
After securing the load to the underbelly of the Osprey, the four warriors helped get the survivors onboard the craft.
They lifted and shuttled to the beach where Gonzalez had pulled the RIB up further out of the tidal surf. The Freedom’s Seahawk would be on station in a few moments to retrieve it. The little Marine ran up the back ramp and was greeted with smiles and a few back slaps.
“Everyone buckled up?” Do
naldson asked over the craft’s radio.
“All here,” Carver replied.
After running overwatch for the Seahawk as it retrieved the inflatable, Donaldson turned and flew to Lost Valley, while the Seahawk went back to the USS Freedom. The ride to the Boy Scout camp was silent, other than Keele quietly attending to the three women they’d rescued. There was much to celebrate, but the presence of an intelligent Alpha and its mutated children changed everything.
Carver hated the unknown, and the Alpha and its juveniles had just made his world view obsolete. He sighed. At least he had one thing constant in his life. Hope was waiting for him back home, and he’d need her love to get him through the fear and anxiety the Alpha had just brought into their lives.
— 8 —
USS Freedom
Captain Howard Everly
“The Chinese use two brush strokes to write the word ‘crisis’. One brush stroke stands for danger; the other for opportunity. In a crisis, be aware of the danger—but recognize the opportunity.”
― John F. Kennedy
The helicopter settled onto the aft deck of the ship after the RIB had been released and returned to its berth. As the rotor blades ground to a stop, Everly jumped out of the back of the Seahawk. He strode into the hangar and was met by the Freedom’s captain.
“Well done,” Captain Thieriot said. “You got the bladder.”
“It’s on its way to Lost Valley. They’ll have it out of its container and strapped under the Osprey by noon.”
“That’s great. I’ve already let the ship’s crew know. It really boosted morale.”
“I’m glad, sir,” Everly replied.
“Come on, Howard. Go grab some lunch. Chef’s made up some stew with those potatoes you brought us.”
“Thank you, sir. But could I have a minute of your time?”
“Sure, Captain. What’s on your mind?”
“Well, I have an idea. It might be wishful thinking, but I’d like your help and permission to try it.”
“Can’t hurt to ask. What do you want?”
“We need Avgas for the helicopters, right?”
“Sure. The more we have, the longer the birds will be flying.”
“Well, when we were over North Island, I saw a large tanker truck parked next to a couple of SuperCobras.”
“That would definitely be Avgas,” Thieriot replied. “You want to start collecting fuel back at the base?”
“Right now, the area has been secured. We probably have a small window to retrieve it before the Variants decide they’d like to come back home.”
The captain thought for a moment and nodded. “That makes sense. We’ve got all kinds of regular fuel and diesel marked on land, but no Avgas. I think we should get it while we can.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’ll call Lost Valley right away. Any idea how quickly they can get back here with the bladder in tow?”
“I’m sure they can be back by mid-afternoon.”
“Perfect. I’ll make the call.”
“Just one more thing, sir,” Everly said.
“What is it?”
After a few minute’s conversation, Thieriot nodded and gave his approval.
“I think you’re crazy to try this. We can’t afford to lose you. We need you to pilot the Freedom’s Seahawk.”
“I know, Captain. But I truly think it’s worth a shot.”
“Then let’s make it happen. I’ll get you what you need.”
Lost Valley
Carver
Following a much-needed shower, Carver had just put on some fresh clothing when Harold Kinney, retired Marine and the camp’s original park ranger, strode into the house.
“Glad you showered,” Kinney said. “I don’t think even Hope could have stood more than a few seconds of you when you landed.”
“That was a brief welcome she gave me.” Carver chuckled. “But who can blame her? I could barely tolerate washing the stench off my own body.”
“By the way, Shrek is doing great. I bathed him and gave him some food. He’s out on the porch in his usual spot.”
“Thanks, Harold. What about the survivors?”
“Chris and Laura have examined them all. No sign of infection, but they’re being quarantined for a few days.”
Although Chris Reedy was the camp’s de facto doctor, his wife, Laura, helped when female patients were involved. She had been a detective for the city of San Diego and had experience with female assault victims. The three women needed a woman who could understand the trauma they had been through.
The camp was lucky to have Chris and Laura. Their son was a Boy Scout attending the camp when the infection broke out. They’d been invited to take refuge at Lost Valley and had been an invaluable asset to the group ever since.
“That’s good. Did they say what happened?”
“The teenager is the only one in shape to talk. She’s pretty shook up, but was able to give us some information. It was what you’d think. They were taken while scavenging for food and supplies. The Variants had already captured two other people, but they didn’t make it back. Apparently, hunting humans makes the Alpha hungry.”
“Jesus. Can you imagine? Watching someone killed and eaten right in front of your eyes. Did she say how long ago that was?”
“She isn’t sure, but at least a couple of days. The other two are still out of it. Right now, Chris said they all needed fluids and rest. He’s treating them for shock.”
“Thanks, Harold.”
“Hope said you’ve got a meal waiting for you at Beckham Hall.”
Carver clapped his friend on the shoulder and walked over to the large building. The dining room was made to handle hundreds of scouts, but now saw no more than a few dozen people at a time. With so few people to fill it, the huge room, with its vaulted ceilings, seemed even bigger.
With lunch already served, he found just four other diners. Shader was there with the three Marines. All were consuming massive amounts of protein and bug juice. The purple-colored liquid had come from the Freedom in exchange for the powdered milk and other supplies they’d initially brought to the ship.
“What the heck are you drinking?” Carver said, smiling.
He’d had more than enough of the mystery drink in the past and had developed a bit of disdain for it. It was a quick way to shove sugar into your body without any other benefit. People compared it to Kool-Aid but in Carver’s mind, it never tasted that good.
“Grape bug juice!” Gonzalez replied as he chugged the sweet drink down.
“What the hell is in it?” Carver chided.
Keele had a wide grin on his face. “I have no idea. But it’s cool and sweet.”
“I know what’s in it,” Gonzalez said as he wiped his lips, leaving a lavender smear on the paper towel. “It’s sugar and water and purple.”
Keele and Lazzaro roared with laughter at Gonzalez’s joke. Carver glanced at Shader. The SEAL was staring at the three men in disbelief before giving Carver a look that said, Can you believe these idiots?
Carver returned the look and an affirmative shrug. These kids were, after all, Marines. They’d been torn from society at eighteen. Their sense of humor and outlook on life reflected that. Their exposure to social situations had been limited while they had been trained to become the best Marine possible. Break things and kill people. That had been their lives before the infection broke out.
Do what you’re told. Never stop fighting until you’ve won or you’re dead. Do everything like it is the last thing you’ll ever do. That was the Marine way.
It made for great fighting warriors and tended to produce kids who had no social graces.
Carver commanded Shrek to sit next to Shader, but it proved an unnecessary order. Porky had torn a piece of his lunch and was already feeding the Mal.
“What are you giving my dog? He’s already eaten.”
“Relax, Carver. Uncle Porky is sharing his flatbread.”
“Seriously, not too m
uch.”
“Did you hear that, Shrek? Your daddy doesn’t want me to give you any more.”
Shrek looked at Shader for a moment, then twisted his black-and-brown head to stare at Carver.
“Don’t give me that look,” Carver said, scolding the Mal. “You know you’ve already eaten. Now lay down.”
Shrek reluctantly dropped to his stomach and turned away from Carver.
“I don’t think he likes you anymore, Carver,” Shader said. “Uncle Porky loves you, Shrek. You can move in with me anytime.”
Shrek took a deep breath and let out a harrumph before putting his head between his outstretched paws.
Carver pointed at a grinning Shader. “Don’t!” was all Carver said.
He turned and went into the kitchen, where Hope was cleaning up the pans she’d used to make lunch. A plate of oven-baked flat bread and a bowl of reconstituted chicken and dumplings sat steaming on a nearby prep table.
“Well. You do clean up well,” she said as she hung the pan from a ceiling hook. “I’d thought I lost my man back there and they sent someone else back in his place.”
“Hey, I can show you I’m the real Carver.”
Hope blushed just a bit and gave him a hug and kiss. “I missed you last night,” she started. “I hate when you’re not in bed with me.”
“I missed you, too. But we got what we needed. We can begin hauling fuel out to the ship as soon as they uncrate the bladder.”
“That’s good. Now, you need to eat something.”
Carver grabbed his plate and bowl just as Lazzaro came into the kitchen carrying all of their dirty utensils.
“We’re heading out. Freedom called. They want to recover some Avgas from North Island before the Variants figure out we’ve left. We’re going out to help Donaldson hook up the bladder to her Osprey.”
“Not a bad idea. I’ll come with you.”
“No need. We’ve got this. You haven’t eaten yet.”
“All right. I’ll eat and gear up. We’ve got to send some rifles and boots in case things go sideways.”
“We’ve got that covered, too. Chief Shader said he’s going to send the MOAs. They’ve been itching to go out on a mission.”
Extinction Survival Series (Book 3): Cost of Survival Page 7