Extinction Survival Series (Book 3): Cost of Survival

by Browning, Walt

  The boat was also scuttled in a shallow area, so there was no way to sink it. The only solution was to draw them all out and kill them in the sky. Eventually, they’d have to send a party to the boat and seal it up. The walls of the submarine would provide the crypt for the slowly depleting fuel rods. It was the best they could do. That was what the landing party Donaldson would carry was for.

  “Are there any more questions?” Carver asked. “I don’t want any confusion about the mission.”

  No one replied.

  “Then we push off at sixteen hundred. Meet at the airport thirty minutes prior. The birds will be prepped and ready for you both.”

  Dr. Maxwell stood up first and hustled out of the room. Carver pretended not to notice when Shader backed away from the table and momentarily hovered near the back. A minute later, he followed Maxwell out the door. The hallway led to her master suite at the back of the mansion.

  “Good for you.” Carver sighed, wishing Hope was with him. The new couple was going to spend a few hours together before Shader shoved off on the mission. He’d be one of the men shuttled to San Clemente Island in the Osprey. Carver, Shader, and Gonzalez would lead their squads. In addition to their weapons, they’d bring welding equipment, CBRN gear, and all the supplies they should need to seal the submarine shut.

  Carver felt a bump on his arm. It was Gonzalez.

  “Hey, Carver. Where’s the Shader?”

  “Busy.”

  “I want to go through assignments again with him. Make sure my guys are squared away,” he muttered unconvincingly.

  “I’ll do that with you. Get your team together and grab some chow. We’ll meet up at the airport an hour before we shove off.”

  “Sure thing,” Gonzalez said, his head craning as he searched for Shader.

  Carver watched as the little Marine’s eyes darted around the room. Carver’s “Spidey-sense” started to tingle when he saw Gonzalez’s team clustered in the corner of the room. They bent over in a conspiratorial crouch. An occasional nod and shifting of the eyes by several of them hinted that some plot or scheme was being hatched.

  Gonzalez checked his watch and turned to Carver. “Gotta go.”

  Carver had an idea of what they had planned. “Leave him alone.” His tone left no doubt as to anyone’s fate who interrupted Shader’s time with the doc.

  “No idea what you mean.” Gonzalez gave a sly grin.

  “Seriously. This isn’t one of your jarhead buddies. You bug Shader right now and he’ll as likely kill you as break your jaw. Stand down.”

  Gonzalez’s face dropped, the grin replaced by a pouting frown. “Chief, you really know how to kill a good time.”

  “I probably just saved your life.”

  A scream echoed from the back of the house. Carver rushed to the hallway door just as Shader stormed around the corner. His shirt was off, revealing his various tattoos and several scars from his encounters with a couple of knife blades and a 9mm bullet. He was holding a dead rattlesnake in his hand.

  “Where is that little son-of-a-bitch?” he yelled. “This was in Maxwell’s bed!”

  Carver turned and saw that Gonzalez and his men had quickly disappeared. Apparently, his warning to not mess with Shader had been too late. The deed had already been done.

  “Porky, let it go,” Carver said, his hand on his friend’s heaving chest. “Is she all right?”

  “Oh. She’s fine. She even thinks it was funny!”

  Carver turned away, hiding his own smile. It was Shader who had screamed, not Maxwell. She’d obviously seen her share of rattlesnakes as a veterinarian. Porky didn’t like snakes and now, his pride had been hurt.

  Carver collected himself and turned back to face his friend. Shader’s face was beet red.

  “You think that was funny?” Shader hissed, seeing Carver holding back a grin.

  Carver started to deny the humor, but he couldn’t help it anymore. With his friend half-dressed, his face red and clutching a four-foot long snake, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He began to laugh.

  Porky shoved Carver and flung the snake at him. Carver felt it smack him across his chest and drop to the floor.

  “I’m going to get you all!” Shader yelled.

  The room, still half full of the others, erupted in laughter. Shader’s face turned an even darker shade of crimson.

  Carver grabbed his friend and guided him back into the hallway. “Come on. We shove off in two hours. Let it go.”

  “Bastards,” Porky mumbled, his temper beginning to fade.

  “Seriously, don’t waste your time with them. You can get some revenge when we return.”

  That seemed to mollify the large man.

  A voice came from down the hall. “Ray?”

  Both men turned and saw Maxwell standing in the doorway to her suite. She had a sheet wrapped around her body and nothing else. The light from the room silhouetted her frame. The cotton bedspread barely hid her assets. She looked good. Real good.

  Shader’s jaw dropped, and Carver found himself staring more than he should. He turned away and leaned over to his friend. Shader’s eyes weren’t blinking.

  “Come on, babe. We don’t have much time,” she crooned.

  “Have fun,” Carver said, squeezing his friend’s arm. He walked back to the now empty dining room and called Shrek to his side. Carver heard Maxwell’s bedroom door close before both he and his dog left the house.

  “Three minutes,” Potoski said over the squad radio.

  Carver sat next to Shader, their bodies strapped onto the frame of the Osprey. Both men tightened their grips on their battle rifles and looked to the men sitting against the wall across from them. They had silent and concerned looks. Understandable, since they were landing at San Clemente Island’s airport and had no idea if Variants were using any of its buildings to nest. They would go in hot and assume the worst.

  Sixteen men and their gear were crammed into the cargo area of the aircraft. Potoski moved between the lines of soldiers who sat opposite each other. Shader was right. The big man had a grace that belied his size; he did not step on a single foot as he moved to the back ramp.

  Carver felt his stomach drop as the Osprey flared. Two of the men nearly vomited, their heaves cut short as they stopped their lunches from churning up. Donaldson was coming in hot, taking the quickest path to the ground.

  “Donaldson! Sit-rep,” Carver barked into the radio.

  Several seconds went by as the aircraft settled to the ground. “Bogies to the southwest,” she finally answered. “We have a hot LZ.”

  “Clear my craft!” Potoski barked.

  The fifteen men filed out the back, no one waiting for their team leaders to make their way forward. It was combat conditions, and they needed to get their weapons outside as quickly as possible. Carver had taken a seat close to the front of the Osprey and was one of the last ones out. He jogged down the ramp and found all the men at their assigned positions. Within a few moments of him clearing the ramp, Donaldson lifted off the concrete runway and flared to the north. This time, Potoski left the ramp down and manned the Osprey’s machine gun. Donaldson rotated the blades to the horizontal and fled the rapidly deteriorating scene.

  Carver was about to issue orders when he noticed Shrek whimper, eyes squinting and ears pulled back. He immediately recognized his dog’s reaction. Somewhere close by, a Variant was screeching its hypersonic cry. They were here.

  Carver was about to warn his men when a call came over the squad radio.

  “Contact south!” someone yelled.

  Carver twisted in that direction. One of the nearby structures was a small hangar. Its doors were half closed, but in the late afternoon light, he could make out some movement. A claw grasped the edge of the building’s rolling door from within. The head of a massive flying Variant then emerged, along with a barreled chest and ropy arms.

  It climbed onto the metal roof and froze once it saw the three squads. Tissue in the middle of its face began to vib
rate. Within seconds, seven more of the creatures skittered out of the building and flapped into the sky.

  Carver lined his ACOG reticle on the trailing creature and let loose a round. He saw it strike its shoulder, but the monster kept rising. They were well within the range of their weapons, but the Variant’s back was layered with muscle. The shot proved futile.

  The sky became thick with the creatures as the eight were quickly joined by more. Now over a dozen soared above the island’s naval auxiliary airfield. Both Carver and Shader recognized that they were sitting ducks standing out in the open. They needed good cover, and quick.

  “John. Over there!” Shader said, pointing at an outbuilding across the runway.

  “Everyone move!” Carver yelled. He ran toward the concrete block building with Shrek keeping up at his side.

  The two-hundred-yard sprint quickly slowed into a fast march as Carver began to slow down. His back began to spasm, the Motrin and steroids quickly overwhelmed by the weight of his gear and the churning of his legs. Electric shocks ran down his thighs and he began to stagger.

  Carver dropped to a knee, bringing the other fourteen men to a stop. Two of them grabbed him under each arm, and he was hustled toward the outbuilding.

  Shrek suddenly stopped and turned. A scream from behind startled the rest. Carver shrugged off the two who were holding him and turned as well. The line of men stopped and spun.

  The last man in line, or what was left of him, lay on the concrete pad. His upper body was gone. The only thing left was the bottom of his torso and two legs that continued to twitch. He’d been cut in half. A Variant soared off, its flight silent as it banked and rose into the sky. The fallen sailor’s upper body was clutched in its grasp.

  “Holy mother of God,” Gonzalez said.

  “Form a perimeter!” Shader yelled.

  The remaining men circled Carver.

  “Eyes out and move on me.”

  The group followed Shader toward the metal-roofed building as their battle rifles scanned the skies.

  “Contact north!” Gavin Gringleman yelled.

  Several M4s barked, sending their 62-grain penetrators toward the rapidly approaching creature. It hugged the ground, its nasal tissue fluttering from the sonic pulses it sent out. It was moving with incredible speed and grace when several rounds found its face. Most of the bullets bounced off its thick skull, but one found the nasal tissue and exploded through the fluttering mass.

  The Variant crashed to the ground, its carcass tumbling toward the small platoon, finally coming to rest within yards of their position.

  The group stood frozen until Shader yelled for them to keep moving.

  As they turned to move, a second Variant swooped over them and another sailor fell, decapitated by the fast-moving monster’s cleaver-like tail. His body dropped to the tarmac, blood shooting out of both carotid arteries. The group brought their rifles up to shoot, but the creature was quickly out of range.

  They all panicked and began to sprint. The soaring monsters circled above, then tucked in their wings and dove. Carver was still being dragged along by Gonzalez and Shader, his back frozen in pain and legs rigid from a muscular spasm.

  The three men fell behind the others. The lead sailor in the platoon breached the building and the others quickly filed in.

  “Come on!” Shader huffed. Gonzalez could only nod, all his strength and energy focused on carrying Carver.

  Shrek stopped and turned.

  Another Variant swooped down and was careening toward the three men just feet off the surface. It was a smaller female and would be on them in seconds. There was no time left.

  Shader stopped as well. He spun, bringing his rifle up from his side.

  The Variant was huge and within moments of reaching them. There was no way he would get his M4 up in time to shoot. He grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled the three of them down, but would it be enough to avoid the razor-like lower appendage that was racing toward them?

  The creature’s legs were fused from its waist down to the heels. It moved like a worm’s body, writhing back and forth with a tail-like rudder in the wind. The bottom edge was a thick, bony cudgel, with a razor-sharp edge that had finger-like grasping claws projecting from the side.

  Shader instantly knew they couldn’t avoid the oncoming monster, but he’d already begun to pull them all down. They were committed. His last prayer was that it would take him and not the other two. His last thought was of Chloe. Not in bed earlier that day, but when they’d first gotten to the ranch. She’d stood at the truck’s window barking orders. Her hair pulled back into a ponytail and her face streaked with the desert’s soil, yelling at over a dozen heavily-armed men just where to go and what to do. She was a woman who took charge. She was worth giving his life.

  “Interesting,” he thought as the wind from the oncoming creature’s wings blew at him. The giant killing machine had started to flare, pushing the air ahead of its body, bleeding off some speed. Its tail pulled back for the strike. He steeled himself for the final blow. He was satisfied. His life had been good. He smiled.

  Then…

  A sudden movement at his side.

  A flash of fur and bared fangs.

  Shrek!

  Shrek

  They are fast and deadly.

  The flying creatures stalk us from above.

  Carver has fallen, his legs unable to work. I know he has been in pain. I can sense this about him. But he is a warrior and never complains. He is like me. I will not let anything keep me from my task.

  I will protect the warriors. We are brothers. We are family. We are a pack.

  The pack comes first.

  Two of our friends grab Carver and begin to carry him. I will stay at their side and protect them from the monsters above. The flying asps.

  I hear them talk to each other. Even from the distance, their high-pitched screams hurt my ears. But I am a warrior. I will not let that stop me.

  We lose two more. I hear them come, but it is too late. They fly in from the side and their cries are lost to me until they have passed through us. I am angry that I have failed. I will not fail again.

  I hear another. It is quickly approaching. I can hear it better than the first two attacks. It is coming from behind, its screams bouncing off my ears as it soars toward us.

  I stop and turn. It will be here in moments.

  I run toward it. Its path never wavers. It is going to kill Carver.

  Not while I’m around.

  I leap past the one they call Shader. He has pulled the three of them down, but it won’t be quick enough.

  No need to do that. I have got this.

  I time my jump. Just as I explode from the ground, I bark. Not the deep yelp I use to warn Carver, but the high scream of the flying asp. I can’t make the same sound as them, but I try. I want it to know death has arrived. I want it to hear the warrior that is going to kill it.

  My yip worked. It becomes confused at the sound. It wavers and I leap. It flares and hovers right in front of me.

  It is going to die. I will kill it.

  Shader

  Shader gasped. “Son of a bitch!”

  There was no way the dog would be able to stop over a hundred pounds of infected flesh racing toward them. Shrek barked just before he jumped. Not his normal cry, but the high-pitched yelp of a puppy. It froze the Variant.

  The thing’s radar received a sudden blast of noise, confusing it. It must have been like a person racing toward a finish line and then having their vision suddenly go blurry. It flared up, unsure where to go.

  Then the dog struck. It hit the thing with such ferocity that it brought them both to the ground. Shader heard a snap and saw the pile of writhing flesh slowly moving away from them.

  The dog had stopped it. There was a chance to survive this shitstorm after all.

  Shrek

  I stare at its ugly face and bark. My cry freezes it. Fatal mistake. I jump and latch onto its wing as it flares and hovers.
I pull down and feel the asp’s skin rip. It screams in pain. I torque my head and I hear a snap. We fall and hit the ground, my foe twisting in agony.

  I jump up and turn. The asp flops around on its back, trying to recover from the broken limb. It cannot, not in time to save itself from me.

  I leap to its neck and grasp its leathery skin.

  I feel a soft spot over the spine and begin to drag it away from my fellow warriors. I clamp down, feeling its head twisting and pulling, trying to dislodge me.

  But it is my prize. I will not let go.

  One of its wings hangs limply at its side. It cannot take to the air. It is mine.

  I clamp down even harder, thinking of Cyclops. This is much larger than that infected, one-eye asp. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever claimed.

  I sense its lower limb racing toward me. The thing coils and squeezes its stomach, bringing its sharp knife back.

  I twist its neck once again and turn my body. The hammer slams onto the ground next to me. I feel the air rush past my back leg. It almost gets me.

  But almost isn’t good enough. I am angry now. More than ever. I adjust my jaw and dig deep with my fangs.

  This thing will die.

  I am shaken back and forth as it flings me from side to side, but my grip is solid. I feel myself slam against the ground as it tries to dislodge me. A fool’s errand.

  I hear it scream in pain. Then it stops crying as I bite with all my strength.

  It shakes with fear. It cannot breathe.

  It shoots its leg at me a second time, but I am ready. It misses once again.

  Nothing will stop me.

  It slows.

  I bite even harder.

  It stops moving.

  I do not let up.

  Its chest stops rising.

  I let go, its limp head flopping to the ground.

  Its leg spasms, twisting and thrusting, trying to get to me. It cannot breathe.