Nothing could be allowed to get away, especially to the north where Catalina Island rose from the Pacific’s depths.
Everly quickly found the three frantically pumping their wings, trying to put as much distance between them and his cannon. He checked his computer readout and saw that he had less than three hundred rounds left. He couldn’t believe he’d already spent over half his ammunition. The confrontation had been intense, and like most battles, time seemed to both slow down and go by quickly at the same time.
The first Variant never flinched when his cannon rendered it in half. He had approached them from behind and their radar, or whatever guided them, was directed forward. They didn’t “see” him coming.
The other two knew instantly they were in trouble. They split up, one diving for the ground and the other soaring into the air. Everly was impressed they’d been smart enough to go their separate ways, but it wouldn’t help them in the end.
He dove for the one heading down. If it left his sight, it could go to ground and bury itself; he’d never find it.
The winged creature quickly came into view as it sought the desert floor. Everly released a burst from his cannon, but it swerved at the last second. He clipped its left wing, but it kept flying.
Everly banked, following its path and lined up his sights for a second shot. The creature was remarkably deft as it slid side-to-side, trying to avoid his inch-wide cannon rounds.
A second burst caught it in the leg, sending flesh and black-speckled blood shooting out of the appendage. It dove for the ground and Everly flared his attack helicopter, allowing the speed to drop. The thing hit the brown, sandy soil and bounced once before skidding, leaving a trail of infective blood behind it.
Everly lined up his cannon for one last shot and depressed the trigger.
His helicopter dropped suddenly and twisted to the side, sending his 20mm rounds flying off target.
Everly struggled to control the gunship. He spun his head around, looking for the cause of the unexpected shift in altitude. A flash of skin and the corner of a large bat-like wing momentarily crossed his vision. The third beast had followed him down. It was attached to his skids, pulling him toward the ground.
Everly increased power to his engines and began to rise. He jerked the cyclic-pitch lever and foot pedals, trying to dislodge the creature. The helicopter’s sluggish response confirmed that it wasn’t working, and the creature was still attached to his skids.
He leveled off and was about to start the process again, when the Variant’s tail arced from underneath the craft and smashed into his armored windscreen. A starburst crack expanded from the blow.
Everly jerked the craft down and then up and right. The Variant lost its grip and tumbled off the rail but quickly righted itself, and before Everly could line up his sights, it shot to the ground.
“Dammit!” he yelled as he turned his bird down.
The Variant had disappeared. Somehow, it had found a way to elude him.
Everly continued to curse as he made his way back to the other injured Variant. He found it still lying on the sand, a large puddle of blood pooling around its body. He sent several more rounds into the thing. It spasmed then went still.
Satisfied, he turned to look for the last creature. He shot over the airbase and sent several cannon shots into the hangar. Nothing happened.
“This is Cobra One. I’ve lost one of them,” he reported.
Carver responded. “We need your help. They’re still coming, and we’re almost bingo on ammunition.”
Everly banked back to the south side of the island. He saw two more Variants rise into the sky. He took aim and fired. They went limp and dropped back to the sea. He was a few seconds from the submarine when the radio came to life with Carver’s voice.
“Everly! Coming up on your six!”
The helicopter rocked as the Variant he’d been stalking came up from behind him. It slammed into the side of the gunship, sending it spinning toward the ground. Everly tried to recover, but the thing had latched onto his skids once again, making normal emergency protocols less effective. He struggled to control the craft, but he was losing the battle.
The creature shifted its grip as the helicopter spun. A sudden movement or deployment of its wings slowed the Cobra’s spin. Everly stopped their fall just yards from the island soil.
He leveled off, but it gave the Variant a moment to strike once again. Its hammer-like tail swung up and crashed into the same spot as before, breaking a hole through the shield. It missed Everly’s head by inches, and the thick appendage flailed around inside the cockpit. Its twin claws grasped for the pilot’s flesh as the tail’s sharp edge tore into the windscreen on the opposite side.
Everly worked to keep the craft airborne. He manipulated the pedal and control lever, maintaining their altitude.
Having failed to kill the pilot, the appendage withdrew. Everly turned and looked out the hole where the creature’s tail had gone. The Variant’s face appeared. It stuck its maw into the opening, its tongue and teeth snapping at his face. It was inches from his head and once, the beast’s long tongue flicked within millimeters of his cheek. The smell was almost too much and he nearly gagged.
Everly struggled, his free hand searching for something he knew was at his side.
The creature roared, sending spittle onto the opposite windscreen.
“There!” he said with satisfaction.
He brought his 1911 handgun up from his holster and placed it onto the fleshy nasal area.
The creature sensed the weapon’s presence and tried to snatch the gun away, its pointy, razor-sharp teeth gnashing and snapping at the firearm. Everly pressed the trigger, sending a 220-grain hollow point bullet into the Variant’s brain. It dropped off the craft and crashed onto the sand. Its death was instantaneous.
Everly’s hands began to tremble as the adrenaline coursed through his system. He tried to take a deep breath, but the stench from the spittle and blood made him vomit. He emptied his stomach on the floorboard.
“Cobra One. We need you.”
Everly banked back and found the submarine. Variants continued to pour out of the craft, but with about a hundred and fifty rounds left, he had to be careful how he used them. Two more creatures escaped the rifle fusillade. He quickly took them down.
A few minutes later, the men on the deck had successfully soldered two rebar rods across the opening. Variants snapped and clawed at their jail bars from within, but they couldn’t dislodge them.
“Fire in the hole!” Shader lobbed a grenade into the opening.
The low crump of the explosion confirmed that he’d found flesh. The others in his team followed suit and, after eight tosses, the Variants retreated from the opening.
“Finish this!” Shader ordered, and the remaining six bars were attached to the submarine’s outer hull. They’d sealed the creatures inside. They didn’t have to worry about them anymore.
“This is Cobra One. I need to return to base. I’m almost bingo on twenty millimeter, and I’ve got damage to the craft.”
“Cobra One. We need to clear the rest of the island. How long can you stay with us? Over.”
Everly evaluated his craft. The warning lights were plentiful as the craft’s self-assessment software diagnosed multiple systems failures that needed to be addressed. None of the damage would prevent him from staying in the air.
He checked his weapons systems. He had about fifty rounds left of the twenty-millimeter ammunition and both of his Sidewinder air-to-air missiles. In the long run, the ship was likely a loss. It would be easier to replace it with one of the remaining SuperCobras from the naval air station, but continuing to fly wouldn’t cause him to crash.
“I can stay with you for another forty mikes.”
He’d arrived with three hours of fuel, but the battle between him and the Variants had eaten quite a bit of that up. Barring another aerial battle, he should be good with the Avgas he had left.
Everly lifted higher
into the sky and returned to the racetrack pattern he’d been doing before the battle. Carver and his group moved forward, driving the pickup truck around the small island, stopping at each station or outpost. They didn’t find any more of the creatures.
They were nearly back to the northern airbase. A small harbor and cluster of buildings about a mile from the airport was their last stop. A fuel tank sat near the ocean. The water was too shallow for Freedom to approach, but at least they had another source of gas. They let Captain Theriot know about the find. It might give the loss of their two shipmates some meaning.
“Red Team, this is Osprey One. I’m ten minutes out.”
Donaldson’s scheduled arrival to retrieve the platoon was on time. The men gathered in the pickup’s bed and drove back to the airport with a few minutes to spare.
The Osprey landed with much less urgency now that the island had been cleared. Everly hovered off to the east, covering the Osprey until the men had made it on board.
On schedule, the last of the group jogged up the ramp and Donaldson lifted into the air.
“Osprey One. This is Cobra One. I’m heading back to Lost Valley.”
“Roger that, Cobra One.”
Donaldson glanced off to her right and saw the damage the SuperCobra had sustained. She gasped when she saw Everly’s head through the hole made by the Variant’s tail. Then she saw the deformed runners under the craft.
“Be careful, Cobra One. Your skids are bent.”
Everly wasn’t surprised. The creature had kept a death hold on his ship. He was relieved that at least something had been left under him to land on.
“Copy that, Osprey One. I’m off station. Cobra One, out.”
“Love you,” Donaldson said as Everly banked to the northeast, heading back to camp.
“Back at you, babe.”
The gunship slowly disappeared as Donaldson set her eyes north, flying the Osprey back to the airstrip at the top of Catalina Island.
Over the Pacific Ocean
Everly banked slightly east once he made landfall. He looked out and saw the Pacific Ocean lapping against the California coast. San Diego appeared as he flew over Coronado Island. The naval air station shot under his craft, and he looked out contentedly at the remaining two gunships that sat idly on the tarmac. He’d be back soon to claim one of them as his own.
Behind the gunship, four large creatures followed. They were intent on revenge, having gone to ground after escaping their lair. One male and three females struggled to keep up with the fast-flying machine, but once over land, they gave up their pursuit. Their enemy was well off in the distance, and they had no energy to follow.
They needed a dark place. A safe space.
They soared over the city, bypassing many promising buildings. But the male kept going; it wanted something underground. A place that was always without light. A cave to call their own.
It spotted the drainage tunnels and led the three females into the opening. It was perfect—cool and dark with a rivulet of water running through it. They would claim it, then after resting, they would venture out and find food to calm their angry bellies.
They moved well into the tunnel, finding solace with the darkness. They eventually stopped and clustered together. Perhaps it was the tightness of their old lair that made them stay close or maybe it was just genetics that kept them wing to wing as they nested. Whatever the reason, their nocturnal huddle allowed them to be seized by the subterranean predators.
The male spat and hissed, striking its tail at the creatures that had captured them, but they easily avoided its attacks. The enemy was strong and numerous. They held the four Variants in place as they grasped each wing and spread them apart. After a few minutes of futile fighting, the four settled down, accepting their fate.
A giant creature approached. It was bigger than any of the other captors and even more enormous than the largest of their flying brethren.
It approached them, followed by a cluster of others that were carrying chunks of meat and bone. The male knew what was going to happen. Their bodies would be chopped up and added to the pile. The male began to struggle again, shooting its tail at the closest creature. It failed to connect. It was going to die, no matter what it did.
Their giant leader stood at a distance. The four flying Variants glared at it, waiting for a sign that they were to be killed.
It didn’t take long for the leader to grunt its command, and the four were flipped onto their backs, held down by several of their captors. The male stared at the ceiling, cursing itself for getting caught. Its brain struggled between mindless rage and an echo of past intelligence. It couldn’t find a way out. It gave up.
The giant leader approached and hovered over the male. The flying Variant, pinned to the cold ground, could only watch. The victor stooped down and grunted. It assessed the male as if to decide if it was worth eating.
Then the large leader reached back and brought forth a chunk of meat. It held it in front of the male and barked. It put the flesh into the flying Variant’s mouth and stood up.
“You. Us,” it said.
Somewhere, in the back of the captive Variant’s brain, it understood. It began to chew the meat, grateful it wasn’t going to die. It squawked its sonic voice at the females. They followed its lead and ate their fill.
The captors released the four flying creatures as they finished the rest of their fleshy meal. All stood quietly, staring at the one that had spared their lives.
If their radar could have seen the leader with normal vision, they would have found an enormous thing with muscles and blade-like nails projecting from its gnarled hand. They would have seen the scars from the healed wounds it had earned on its way to the top spot in the Variants’ world. Many thousands followed the red-headed creature. It was a force none of them could stand up to. The captured male understood its place. It bowed its head.
Satisfied with the act of servitude, the giant leader turned and marched back into the bowels of the San Diego sewer system. It had an empire to build, and more importantly, an enemy to kill.
Carver was still out there. It would find the man-thing and tear it apart. These four would be a benefit in that mission.
It grabbed a chain that hung around its neck and massaged the attached plastic sleeve that had once been the sheath for Keele’s neck knife. The tactical necklace had fallen off the corpse when the Marine had been decapitated. Now, it was a memento of the kill and a reminder of the creature they called Carver and his accursed dog.
The red-headed giant barked its orders, and the clan led their new members to their subterranean lair. All the while, their leader walked contentedly along, satisfied they’d added a new and valuable ally to the fold.
— 29 —
Santa Catalina Island
El Rancho Escondido
If a man insisted always on being serious, and never allowed himself a bit of fun and relaxation, he would go mad or become unstable without knowing it.
— Herodotus, Greek Historian
Eight straight nights. It had been over a week since the action on San Clemente Island and no sign of the flying Variants had been seen since. During that time, they’d staked two more bison each evening. Not a hair had been harmed on either of them. The rest of the herd had been left untouched as well. It looked like they’d killed or trapped all the flying monsters.
The Osprey continued to shuttle troops and supplies between the ranch and Lost Valley. The beginnings of a solar farm were being built on the slopes of the mountain next to the former equine ranch, but more panels and inverters were needed. Carver promised Maxwell he’d lead a party to scavenge more of each, as soon as his back would allow it.
Carver had spent that week in Maxwell’s care, taking a spare bedroom in one of the ranch’s outbuildings. On the third day of his recovery, Hope had been flown to the island. Maxwell put her through several tests including an ultrasound, verifying the health of their baby. She also confirmed that Hope was nearly tw
enty weeks pregnant.
When Maxwell asked if they wanted to know the sex of the baby, they declined. Regardless of its gender, he’d already picked out the child’s middle name. He was sure Hope would approve.
Having Hope at his side improved both of their attitudes and just last night, his back had healed enough to enable them to physically connect. It was just the medicine they needed to finish his rehabilitation and alleviate Hope’s fears. They both greeted the morning with renewed energy and a positive attitude.
Shader, on the other hand, didn’t have the physical limitations that Carver had to deal with. He hadn’t been with a woman in over a year and was bound and determined to make up for it. The first few nights after they returned never ended for the new couple. They both got little sleep, and Shader worried he might scare Maxwell off. But after the fifth night, it was Porky who began to become concerned that he wouldn’t measure up to her energy and spirit. Maxwell drained him; her vigor and zest were seemingly boundless.
That morning, he sat across from her at a table in her bedroom, sipping a cup of coffee. She was slumped back in her chair, staring out the nearby window as she nibbled on some fresh baked bread between sips of herbal tea.
“I’ve never met a woman like you,” Shader quietly said. “I hope I make you happy.”
Maxwell slowly moved her eyes and gazed at the giant man. She dreamily smiled, a contented look on her face.”You have no idea. I am exhausted.”
Shader felt a weight lift. She was as tired as he was.
She shifted in her chair; her feline movements feminine in a way that made his groin tingle. He couldn’t believe he was responding this way. They’d made love twice the night before, just like all the other days since he returned. Shader wasn’t sure he could continue this. At nearly fifty years old, he was pushing even his limits.
“Ray, I’ve never met a man like you.” She said it in a way that made him want to pick her up and throw her back in bed.
Maxwell saw his look and groaned. “God. Not again. I’d swear you were a teenager, Porky Shader. Can’t we just do this maybe once a night?”
Extinction Survival Series (Book 3): Cost of Survival Page 28