Extinction Survival Series (Book 3): Cost of Survival

by Browning, Walt

  I turn to Carver and smile. He is smiling back.

  We have won another battle.

  No surprise.

  Because, I am Shrek.

  I am the ghost that kills in the night.

  I always win.

  It is just who I am.

  Carver

  The battle between Shrek and the flying Variant seemed to take forever. In reality, it was over in less than a minute. Carver didn’t see the dog take the creature down. He had been lying on his back, both legs immobile from the spasms. He did hear the Variant’s limb break, and he raised his head enough to watch with pride as the Mal began pulling the large, thrashing body away from the group. Away from him. Shrek was protecting the pack’s alpha male. He was protecting his master.

  Shader jumped up to help the dog just as Shrek let go of the dying creature. Carver could see the sunken flesh on its neck. He scanned for blood. If it got in Shrek’s mouth, it could infect the Mal. There was none. Shrek had crushed its windpipe but hadn’t penetrated its thick skin. Within a few more moments, the thing’s body stopped its death throes and lay silent on the concrete pad. Shrek had killed it.

  Several rifles barked from the building’s door, shaking the group from its battle trance. Another creature flopped to the ground a few yards away, its neck and spine nearly severed by the shots.

  “We need to move,” Shader yelled.

  Gonzalez grabbed Carver by the legs as Shader lifted his shoulders. They shuffled to the office building, carrying Carver between them.

  Rifles spoke again as the wind from another Variant’s wings rushed over the group. Shrek yipped as it passed over them. The creature wavered but kept moving, confirming that the dog’s high-pitched cry interfered with the creature’s sonic vision. They all made it inside.

  The remaining men were already spread out, their rifle-mounted flashlights shooting spotlights around the empty space. Shader pulled up and they deposited Carver on the floor.

  “Gonzalez. Your team guards the door. Red Team, clear the back of the room. Blue Team, you’re on me,” Shader commanded.

  Gonzalez’s men secured the door, then pushed a desk in front of it. Several glow sticks snapped, illuminating the room in a bath of green, luminescent light.

  “How’re you feeling?” Shader asked. Carver hadn’t moved since they put him on the ground.

  “Where’s Shrek?”

  The dog stood at the front door as the sound of the creatures landing on the building echoed inside.

  Shader grinned. “Standing guard. Where else would he be?”

  Carver nodded and tried to move his legs. They lifted a few inches before dropping back to the ground.

  “I’m getting some mobility back.”

  “Here. Let me help.”

  Shader grabbed the team’s medical bag and found an instant ice pack. He slapped it on the ground, breaking the liquid accelerator and tucked it under Carver’s back.

  “I don’t know if that’s going to help,” Shader said. “But it can’t hurt.”

  Carver grunted as the cold pack began to chill. He lay still, listening to the scratching and cracking from the Variants that had landed on the building’s metal roof.

  “Cobra One. This is Blue One actual. Do you copy? Over.”

  Shader waited for an answer. Everly failed to reply. He repeated the call with the same lack of response.

  “I hope our guardian angel is all right,” Shader mumbled. “Because we ain’t getting out of here otherwise.”

  The room remained silent as the minutes bled away. Two more attempts to contact the SuperCobra proved futile.

  Over the ensuing few minutes, Carver felt his lower back begin to loosen. The numbness in his legs had faded to a slight tingle, more annoying than debilitating. He raised his legs with minimal pain.

  “Help me up.”

  One of the nearby men assisted Carver, the pain momentarily returning as he put weight on his feet. It quickly subsided.

  “My rifle,” Carver said, pointing to where it leaned on a nearby desk.

  The sailor helped him sling the weapon over his neck, letting it drop to the front. Carver brought the weapon up to his eyes, an electric jolt knocking him in the gut. But he could do it. Several subsequent attempts to shoulder his battle rifle all brought the same sharp spasm, but they didn’t get worse. He smiled. He could live with the pain as long as he could do his job.

  Carver tried to pick up his assault backpack, but it proved too much.

  “I’ve got that, buddy,” Shader said.

  “It’s been with me for two decades.”

  “Maybe it’s time you got a new one.”

  “Maybe.” A few moments later Carver continued. “Leave it. Just grab my woobie and the spare ammo.”

  Shader opened the old ALICE pack and rummaged around. He pulled out the soft blanket liner and tried to stuff it into his own backpack. There wasn’t enough room.

  He pulled out several thick, plastic MRE bags from his assault pack and tossed them to a nearby sailor. “Here. You can have these.”

  The sailor looked at the packages then at Shader. “Gee thanks, Master Chief. Just what I need. Constipation.” The sailor tossed the heavy food pouches to the ground and turned away.

  Shader stuffed the woobie and spare ammunition into his partially-emptied pack, but not before topping off Carver’s magazines.

  “Give Everly another shout,” Carver said.

  Before Shader could try, a hammer-like strike came from the building’s metal roof, followed by several more.

  “What’s that?” Gonzalez asked. The entire team stared at the drop ceiling. It vibrated with each blow.

  Shader kept his eyes upward. “The Variants. They’re trying to breach the roof.”

  A particularly loud boom echoed from above. The men staggered back, frantically searching the ceiling.

  “There!” Gonzalez yelled, pointing to several tiles that seemed to glow around their edges. One of the creatures had broken through, and the late afternoon’s sun bled through the hole, highlighting the seams around the ceiling panels.

  “Gringleman!” Shader screamed at the boy who stood under the bright spot.

  Gavin stepped back just as a Variant dropped through the ceiling tile, landing directly in front of the scout.

  Shader began to shoulder his rifle, and Shrek let out a yelp. The creature froze, giving Gavin enough time to bring his shotgun up. He let loose a blast, blowing a hole through the mid-facial tissue and out the back of its head. The Variant dropped dead at the young man’s feet.

  A second, then third crash came from above. The roof was breached. The monsters could drop on them from anywhere.

  Then came a sound that Shader and Carver had heard many times before. It was a faint thumping that rapidly grew in intensity. Everly had returned.

  Carver shot a look at Shader as the Cobra’s 20mm cannon began to fire. The muffled sound of a drummer tapping rapidly on a garbage can announced the arrival of the cannon rounds. It was the most beautiful thing Carver had ever heard.

  The slamming on the roof stopped as Everly shot overhead. Carver heard the changing pitch of the helicopter’s engines in the distance as Everly bobbed and weaved among the flying monsters. He could almost feel the Cobra bank and accelerate as Everly stalked and killed their enemy, his cannon tapping out its death song. The men all froze, their weapons raised at the ceiling and ears drinking in the sound of their enemy’s demise.

  Five minutes later, it was over.

  “This is Cobra One. Do you copy? Over.”

  “Damn glad to hear you,” Shader replied.

  “You’re cleared to ex-fil the building.”

  “That’s a hard copy,” Shader said with a grin.

  He turned to Carver. “You ready to go?”

  “Just take us out of here.”

  “Are we still on mission?” Gonzalez asked.

  “We’re still combat effective,” Shader said. “We’re already here and with th
e sun overhead, we’ve got the advantage. Let’s push forward.”

  Shader led the men out of the structure. The ground was littered with Variant corpses, their bodies in various stages of dismemberment. The cannon didn’t leave a wound, it rendered its target into smaller pieces. A decapitated creature over here, another split in two over there. Chunks of flesh scattered across the concrete was all that was left of the dozen or so that had attacked. In the distance, Everly continued overwatch, circling the small airport in a racetrack pattern.

  Carver pressed his PTT button and called Everly. “Cobra One. How much time do you have left on station?”

  After a few moments, Everly replied. “About two hours of flight time if I don’t have to engage any more Tangos.”

  “Do we have time?” Shader asked, staring back at their LZ, where the welding equipment still lay.

  “We need to finish clearing the airport and find a better building,” Carver replied. He stared around at the cluster of structures but didn’t find any stronger than the one they’d just left, and that one had been wholly inadequate. On the positive side, the remaining buildings were all small and looked to be closed. It was unlikely there were any more Variants in the vicinity.

  “Shader. Take your team and find a place for us to hole up for the night.”

  “No. You take your team and find a place for us. You’re not in good enough shape to lead breaching teams.” He pointed off to the west end of the airstrip where several other buildings sat. “Everly said there are some vehicles over there. See if we can get one of them to start.”

  Besides welding equipment, they’d brought two Jerry cans of fuel. Both were strapped to a pull cart.

  Carver realized that he wasn’t at a hundred-percent. In fact, he was far from it. “You’re right. I’ll take my team and see if we can find a vehicle. Just stay safe.”

  “Hard copy, my friend.”

  Shader turned to the rest of the group and gave the orders. Carver led his fireteam to the supply cart they’d brought.

  “Hop in, Chief,” one of his men said. “This baby has pneumatic wheels! It drives like a dream.”

  “Bite me,” Carver said before pointing at his ALICE pack. “Grab that.”

  Five minutes later, Carver and his men were pushing the supply cart toward the distant structures, his backpack sitting on top of the welding equipment. Shrek trotted along at their side, his head high and tail slack. A sure sign there was no danger in the area.

  They found a Chevy pickup and drained the remaining gas as a precaution. They dumped both Jerry cans of fuel into its tank. Its battery had enough juice to start the engine without needing a jump. Just before dusk, one of Carver’s team drove the Chevy and retrieved the rest of the platoon, bringing them back to a supply building they’d found. By dark, they’d reinforced the structure’s entrance. The concrete flat roof would provide better protection from an aerial attack.

  Carver found enough discarded material to cushion himself from the concrete floor. He settled down near the main door, Shrek at his side. He opened the ALICE pack and dug around until he found a bag of jerky. Shrek took immediate notice of the scent when he separated the seams of the ziplock bag, but made no move to get closer.

  “This is for you,” Carver said.

  He held up the strip of bison meat and called the dog. Shrek shot over to Carver and eagerly accepted the treat. Carver poured him a bowl of water and stroked the Mal as he drank before taking a turn in the building’s head.

  After using the bathroom, he pulled out a box of food and shared it with his Mal.

  With his bladder now emptied and an MRE in his belly, Carver settled down for a full night’s sleep. Carver didn’t complain when Shader ordered him to stand down for the evening. His back needed the rest.

  Carver picked a spot near the front door. He knew Shrek would alert him to anything that might lurk outside. They’d be the first into the fight, whether Shader wanted it nor not.

  Carver lay back and closed his eyes. His hand found his canine companion and he settled his fingers into the dog’s nape. He scratched once and rubbed him between the eyes before falling into a deep sleep. Neither of them woke until the following morning’s light.

  — 28 —

  Southwest Shore of San Clemente Island

  Carver

  Unarmed hand-to-hand fighting does not change through the ages; only the name changes, and it has only one rule: do it first, do it fast, do it dirtiest.

  — Robert A. Heinlein

  Carver didn’t trust his back to hold up, so he went into the fight with only his battle belt and rifle. If things went sideways, it was unlikely that his ALICE pack, which had a three-day supply of food and a change of clothing, would make much difference. He and the rest of them would be dead. Not much use for a woobie when you were the Variants’ next meal.

  Everly hovered in the distance. The Seahawk had been buzzing the island with no effect. The Variants remained hidden in their lair. The pilot happily returned to the ship, his mission a failure but without any bruises in the process.

  Everly had been on watch while the Seahawk tried to lure out any of the creatures. With their departure, he began hovering over the submarine about ten minutes ahead of Carver’s platoon, effectively pinning the Variants in their lair.

  The first thing Carver’s team had discovered when leaving the reinforced building was that all the dead Variants that had littered the runway and tarmac had disappeared. They’d likely become their brethren’s nighttime snack. How many were left was a mystery. They knew a Los Angeles class submarine could hold over a hundred bubbleheads, but exactly how many had turned was unknown. They had to assume the worst.

  “Cobra One. This is Red One actual. We’ll be on target in five mikes.”

  “Copy that, Red One. No activity to report.”

  True to form, they continued to hide from Everly’s attack helicopter. This would give the platoon an advantage and hopefully allow them to seal the submarine without too much trouble.

  Carver pulled off the dirt path and moved toward the nearby ocean. The submarine’s tower came into view as they crested the seaside hill. The island dropped off rather quickly, the land becoming a mishmash of water-worn rocks and boulders.

  They found a way to get to the sub’s deck, but it wasn’t an easy path. As they got closer, they could see a hole in the submarine. Someone had cut the metal, releasing the mutated creatures.

  The team spread out, with half the platoon forming a firing line on the tower’s base while the other half picked their way along the rocks, dragging the welding torch along with them.

  Everly continued to hover off the submarine’s starboard, covering the entrance with his cannon.

  Shader was the first on deck, followed by his Blue Team. Carver stayed on shore, providing overwatch for his friend. When the last of the platoon had joined Shader, there were six on board and seven covering them from shore.

  “Let’s do this,” Shader told one of the sailors.

  He pulled the welding unit up to the hole as Shader and the others covered the dark entrance with their rifles. A thumping sound echoed from within, and the rustle of leather on leather could be heard whispering from inside. Shader’s neck hairs stood on end.

  “Blue One actual. This is Red One actual,” Carver said over the radio. “Shrek’s going crazy. You’ve got company nearby. Get the job done now!”

  One of Shader’s men handed a steel rebar to the welder. They were going to solder them over the hole, creating a permanent jail for the creatures.

  “Hey. I see the cut piece of hull,” one of the men said.

  He stood near the opening and was squatting down, his flashlight beam lighting up the floor just beyond the opening.

  “That would work a hell of a lot better than soldering bars,” the other said.

  The first man had dropped down, shining his light inside. Satisfied it was clear, and before Shader could stop him, he bent into the opening and reached f
or the slab of metal. He never got a chance to touch it.

  Clinging to the inside wall above the opening, one of the Variants sensed the incursion. It blasted a sonic wave down and instantly dropped onto the sailor. Its tail slammed into the man’s spine and severed him in half. The man’s legs kicked and went still.

  Shader saw the kill shot and let loose with his M4. With a such a small opening, he missed. The Variant had already jumped up, avoiding the incoming rounds. It blasted a sonic cry for help to the rest of its clan. The reply was rapid and violent. Dozens of the creatures instantly charged for the opening.

  They came out in waves. The first few were cut down by the platoon’s rifles, but a lull in fire as many of them reloaded, allowed several to escape.

  Everly was helpless until the first of them got through and took flight. He couldn’t fire on the tower with the others so close to the opening but now, three of the Variants were soaring in the air, and he could use his cannon.

  He picked out the largest of the them and pursued. It was fast, but no match for his twin turbo engines. It bobbed and weaved as he lined up his sights. His cannon was slaved to his helmet’s head’s up display, and he pressed the trigger when the HUD’s reticle lined up on the beast’s body. It disintegrated as several rounds tore the creature’s body apart.

  Everly turned and sought the second of the three. He stopped when he saw even more of the monsters squeezing through the hole. It looked like a swarm of wasps reacting to an attack on their hive.

  The rifle rounds were not always effective and about every fourth creature made it into the air. It was a jail break, and all he could do was take them out one at a time and hope they could contain them. He quickly dispatched the second and third monsters, then started working on the ones that had found a way through the platoon’s fusillade.

  “Cobra One! Three Tangos heading north!” Carver barked into his radio.

  Everly had just finished tearing apart another pair of Variants. One of them had turned to attack him. Its body parts were now spattered on his windscreen.

  “Copy that, Red One. I’m on it.”