The road sat several hundred feet above the surf, giving Shader an unobstructed view of the ocean. The USS Freedom was shadowing their little convoy while the drone hovered above, providing real-time data.
“Contact left!” Kyle yelled from the truck’s bed.
Carver glanced down the hillside, where an isthmus jutted out into the water. Metal buildings followed a dirt driveway down to the sea. These structures were definitely inhabited, as over a dozen Variants sprinted out of one of the larger buildings.
“Should we stop and take them out?” Carver asked.
“Speed up,” Shader suggested. “We need to find a better spot. No telling if there are more above us.”
Carver gunned the engine, and all three vehicles accelerated. The dirt road wound around the walls of the island. As they passed more homes, several more Variants join the chase. By the time they found some flat land, several dozen of the infected were spread out behind them.
“Firing line!” Carver yelled.
The three trucks spread out, and each team formed up behind the vehicles.
“Hold until I tell you,” Carver commanded.
The first of the creatures was galloping at the group. Its right eye and most of its cheek were gone, exposing its upper teeth and sinus. Its tongue flicked out of the hole, slapping itself in the empty eye socket. Black flecks of infection sprayed from the wound.
Carver leaned on the pickup’s bed and looked through his sights. He’d take the lead creature out. Once he fired, the rest would finish the job. He lined his reticle on the Variant’s head and squeezed the trigger.
His armor-piercing round exploded from the barrel. At 3000 feet per second, it slammed into the monster, pushing its infected brain out the back of its head. The other nineteen followed his shot, cutting down the horde.
Several of the creatures lay animated on the ground. A couple were crawling forward, instinctively moving toward their next meal. Gonzalez’s squad moved into the mess of flesh and finished the job with a bullet to the brain.
Kyle wandered over to the side of the road, where one of the Variants had dropped. After shooting it in the head, he scanned the prairie to his north. Several single-story homes sat about a quarter of a mile away, a large propane tank between them. A crippled Variant was crawling out of one of the homes toward the group, its feeble shrieks echoing from the distance.
“Another one!” Kyle called out, pointing up the winding dirt driveway.
“Christ,” Shader grunted. “It will take weeks to clear the island.”
“No kidding. There has to be a better way,” Carver replied.
Carver hopped into his truck and spun up the drive, picking up Kyle along the way. They got to the Variant’s house and jumped out. Carver walked up to the creature and pulled out his handgun.
It turned to him and began pulling itself slowly over the dirt. It was old. Wispy, silver hair sprouted in patches from its head. It snarled, revealing just a few broken fangs. Its legs were mostly gone, having been consumed by other Variants or possibly even by itself. Its chest was flattened from lack of food, and ribs protruded from its stretched, splotchy frame. It was a pitiful sight.
It was the first time Carver felt sympathy for the creatures. This one had been ancient when it turned. Now, it was clinging to its existence by cannibalizing its own body. He pulled the trigger on his M9. As the thing’s head dropped to the dirt, he could have sworn he felt its gratitude.
“Look, Mr. Carver,” Kyle said, pointing at a distant clump of bones.
Carver and Kyle moved to the skeleton. It was a gigantic beast, whose bones had been cleaned. It could have been a giant cow, but the head was too large and its shoulders too broad. What was most unusual were the two horns that jutted out of its skull. They weren’t normal cow horns. They were massive.
“Is that a Variant cow?” Kyle asked.
“I don’t know,” Carver said. “Let’s get the rest of team up here. We’ll clear the buildings and maybe someone will know what we’re looking at.”
None of the others could identify the bones. Some of the scouts were convinced that the Variant virus had mutated a cow into a dinosaur, but that was just teenage speculation. Still, Carver had to admit, whatever the Variants had killed and eaten was very large.
Led by Shrek, the three squads moved through the structures, finding them empty.
“Hey, Carver. I think I found out what our mystery monster is,” Lazzaro yelled.
He walked over to Carver waving a tri-fold pamphlet. Bison Tours, it read, with a picture of a small herd of buffalo grazing in the island’s upper regions.
“Bison?” Shader asked. “Really?”
Lazzaro read the advertisement to the group. It was speculated that the animals had been imported as movie props back in the 1920s. There were several hundred that had survived to date, roaming wild in the island’s mountain grassland.
“Maybe some of them have survived,” Lazzaro said. “That would help the Freedom with meat.”
“That would be nice,” Carver replied. “But we have to clear the Variants out before we can think about herding cattle.”
“Maybe we can use this to our advantage,” Shader said. “The Variants are attracted to the uninfected, right? So, if we could find a big enough prize, we could lure them to us rather than us finding them.”
“Like staking a lamb to attract the wolf,” Carver replied.
“Exactly. Let’s find a good spot to set up an ambush and plant bait.”
“First, we need to clear out Two Harbors,” Carver said. “Then we can discuss the bison.”
Two Harbors happily proved to be a bust. The team drove through the small burg, beeping their horns and yelling from the back bed. Nothing responded.
They dismounted and swept the homes and few businesses, coming up empty. It was a pleasant morning’s work.
“Lazzaro!” Carver called out. “Where’s that pamphlet about the bison?”
Lazzaro jogged over to Carver and handed him the brochure. It had a diagram showing where the tour vehicle would have taken them. Shader brought out a detailed map they’d recovered from a hiking supply store and laid both papers on the tailgate of Carver’s pickup.
“Looks like the tour went into the mountains to the south,” Carver said. “We need to clear the northern part of the island first.”
“We better fuel up then,” Shader replied. “Our truck is at a quarter tank.”
“All of us should do that now. It’s safe, and I don’t know when that’s going to change.”
The siphoning of gas wasn’t going as easily as Shader expected. They’d brought hoses from the ship, but the anti-theft measures that most modern cars were equipped with, forced them to improvise.
Oven pans were placed under a car or truck, and a hole was punched into the fuel tank. The collected gas was transferred to five-gallon gas cans then put into the trucks. They were on the road within a half hour, all with full tanks and a stash of snacks they’d found while clearing the little town.
Circumnavigating the north part of the island was probably a waste of time. Other than a few campgrounds that they’d already passed by on their way into Two Harbors, there were no structures of note. Still, if the Freedom was to make this their home, it had to be cleared.
“Here!” Kyle said, handing Daphne a pack of Twinkies.
“No thanks.” She pulled out some jerky they’d recovered.
“You’ll miss these someday,” he replied, holding the yellow tubes in front of her. “They won’t be making these anymore.”
Daphne snatched the package and stuffed it into her ruck. “I hear these things last forever,” she said. “Maybe I’ll pull them out for my fiftieth birthday party.”
Kyle was about to reply, when the truck hit a particularly deep hole in the dirt road. The trail they were on had been hacked out of the mountain side, primarily for hikers, but it was wide enough for four-wheeled vehicles. Barely. Several spots proved hazardous with drop-o
ff cliffs and loose dirt. Just a foot to their left, and they’d fall hundreds of feet.
The drive was both tedious and bone wrenching. Most of the road could best be described as a glorified donkey trail, and the ride in the back bed was far from cushioned. Steel and aluminum slammed into their tailbones with each rut or rock they passed over. It took most of the afternoon to get back to Two Harbors, and by the time they got to the end of the forty-mile loop, the entire squad was ready for a break.
“All right. Let’s head back to the ship. We’ll start the hard part tomorrow,” Carver announced.
The RIB couldn’t have come soon enough. By the time the last run pulled into the garage bay of the littoral ship, night had fallen.
Tomorrow would be a different day, as they would be travelling up the mountainous spine of the island, then down into its largest city.
Avalon had been home to thousands of people. Its large buildings were going to present a major problem. It was one thing to clear a single-story house, but multi-story buildings like the island town’s casino, might be too much for them to handle. If push came to shove, Carver would have the entire town bombarded. But that call was for another day.
Carver was too tired to eat, so he hit the head, took a shower, and crashed onto his bunk. As always, Shrek lay on the floor at his side. Both warriors were out within seconds.
The Road to Avalon
Carver thought it was unusual when most of the team members carried their life preservers off the inflatable craft. The orange floatation devices’ purpose became clear when they were brought onshore and used as cushions in the pickup trucks’ beds. Their vehicles started right up, and they were soon climbing up the island’s mountainous road.
“Another five minutes!” Shader yelled from the back seat. “We should see the airport around the next bend.”
The fireteams in the bed of the pickup craned their necks to try to glimpse the multi-story building. So far, they’d only seen a few isolated animals on their way up the two-thousand-foot climb. It had been remarkably quiet.
“There it is,” Dixon said, pointing to their front left.
The four-story tower was flanked by single-story wings that flared off to either side. It seemed to grow from the elevated land as the teams climbed toward the hilltop plateau.
Carver led the three-vehicle group. He swung around to the front of the airport and stopped at its main entrance, giving any infected creatures inside the structure a chance to show themselves. It remained quiet.
Donaldson’s Osprey was hovering in the distance, waiting for the airport to be cleared of any Variants. She was hauling a bladder of Avgas under her V-22, along with a portable fuel pump and other maintenance equipment. The Catalina Airport would be a good spot for refueling their aircraft when the island was being occupied.
“This has been too easy,” Shader grumbled.
“Nothing like jinxing us,” Carver replied. “Why don’t you just wish for them to show up?”
Shader remained quiet, ignoring his friend. Carver was going to give him more grief, until he noticed Shrek’s posture. The war dog was frozen in place, his eyes staring into the stucco-covered building.
“Heads up,” Carver said over the squad radio. “We may have company.”
Carver dismounted and called Shrek to his side. The rest of the small convoy joined him and spread out in a defensive formation.
“Red Team, form on me,” Carver commanded.
The four soldiers stacked behind Carver, while the other three groups maintained their positions, their rifles at low ready. Carver led them through the shattered double front doors, their boots crunching on the broken safety glass.
The tiny lobby was lit by several windows, which allowed the early morning light to spill into the space. Signs of chaos were splashed across the walls and floor. Discarded luggage lay scattered throughout the room, while puddles of hardened, brown blood blemished the cream-colored walls.
Carver ordered Shrek forward while his two fireteams covered their flanks. Off the lobby, two hallways spanned in either direction, both needing to be cleared. The teams stayed behind the war dog while they verified that each room was safe. During the twenty-minute process, the Malinois followed Carver’s orders, even though his attention was constantly drawn to the runway exit door that led out onto the tarmac.
“All clear,” Carver said over the squad’s radio. “Blue and Green Teams, join me in the lobby. Black Team, maintain our perimeter out front. Report any movement. Do you copy? Over.”
All three team leaders replied, with Shader and Gonzalez joining Carver a few moments later, at the building’s rear door.
Carver glanced outside through a nearby window. The concrete tarmac was clear, and with Donaldson hovering nearby, it was unlikely there were any Variants. Still, Shrek hovered under the metal detector, his hair stiff on his nape.
“Something’s got him spooked,” Gonzalez said.
“I know. It has to be the outbuilding.” Carver pointed to a metal structure about a hundred meters from the main terminal.
The maintenance garage’s large double sliding doors were closed. Above the entrance was a sign that welcomed visitors to Catalina Island’s “Airport in the Sky.”
“Okay,” Carver said, nodding toward the garage. “We’ve got another building to clear.”
“Osprey One. This is Red One actual. How does it look out there? Over.”
“Red One actual. Building and grounds are clear. Over.”
“We’re moving to the maintenance garage. Keep an eye out for us. Over.”
“Copy that, Red One actual. I’ve got your back. Over.”
Carver nodded to Gonzalez, who opened the door and stepped out onto the runway. Carver followed and looked up the side of the small tower, making sure the walls were clear of any infected. The Marine held the metal door back, allowing the rest of the teams to exit. The group tactically advanced on the garage and were about half the distance to the metal building when a collective scream came from inside.
Carver held up his hand, stopping their advance.
“Hold here. Defensive perimeter. Red Team, on me.”
Carver’s fireteam and Shrek moved toward the cacophony. Thumps and crashes from fists slamming on the metal walls and wire-reinforced windows echoed back. The occasional thump of a body crashing against the double door added to the chaos.
Carver moved to the front of the structure. Someone had chained the garage doors shut. He nodded at one of his team and pointed at the master lock. A knowing look and raised eyebrows told Carver they understood. Someone had locked the infected inside the garage. There were survivors after all.
“Stay here. I’ll check for another way in.”
Carver and Shrek slid around the side of the building, leaving the remaining men at the front. He found the building’s only side door. It was locked from within. There was a large trash bin off to the side of the door. Hopping up onto the metal garbage collector, he was able to get a good look inside the garage through an elevated window.
Variants. Dozens of them. They were clustered at the garage doors, stacked like an invading horde, waiting for their chance to escape.
As Carver began to do a headcount, one of the creatures spotted him and cried out, alerting the remaining Variants to his presence. They all began to pile under the window. Eventually, they climbed on top of each other and reached the wire-reinforced glass. The ones at the top began to slap and pound at the window, forcing the ex-SEAL’s retreat. He returned to the rest of his men, the cries of the infected continuing to echo from inside the structure.
“Well?” one of the team members asked.
“I counted fifty-seven,” Carver replied.
“Someone’s alive,” Shader said, nodding at the chained sliding doors.
“At least, there was a survivor,” Carver corrected. “No way to know how long those things have been trapped in there.”
“What are we going to do? Do we leave them there to
starve, or take them out?”
“We’ve got to clear the airport,” Carver replied. “We take them out.”
“Can we just get Everly to come by and strafe the building?”
“I don’t know about you,” Carver said. “But if that building can keep nearly five dozen Variants trapped inside, it’ll keep the Variants out. I want it as a safe house, just in case.”
Carver waved his men back to the other three groups.
“Gonzalez. Do you have anything we can use to breach the side door?”
“Yeah. I have some knob knockers or det cord back in the truck.”
“I want to preserve the door. Go get the knob knockers.”
While Gonzalez was retrieving the breaching explosives, Carver moved the men to the side door. He lined them up twenty meters away, forming a semi-circle on the side of the building.
“Gonzalez will set the charge. When it goes off, the Variants should fly out of there. I want them all taken down.”
“Make sure you’ve chambered a round and your safety’s on,” Shader added.
Gonzalez jogged back and placed a loop of explosives around the handle of the door, then he backed away and to the side.
“Everyone down,” Carver said. “When it goes off, stand up and let the first wave get out of the building. I don’t want to clog the opening. Once they get free, start killing those damn things.”
Carver looked at Gonzalez and waited for him to get in position. The Marine nodded.
“Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole!”
The breaching knob knocker punched the handle and locking mechanism into the garage. The door flung out, bouncing back and forth on its hinges as the explosive’s energy slowly dissipated. It took only a few moments for the creatures to respond.
The opening was only big enough to allow one or two creatures to exit at a time. Once the first few leapt out of the opening, the slaughter began.
It took only a minute to finish them off.
“Blue Team. Clear the building.”
Shader led his men inside the giant, metal structure, picking his way around the blood and gore that covered the pavement.
Extinction Survival Series (Book 3): Cost of Survival Page 18