Extinction Age

-12-

Kate rubbed her temples. She was hardly listening to the chatter coming from the wall of radio equipment. Horn, Riley, and Smith were there, huddled around Hook as she twisted a knob with exaggerated care.

“Try and get Jensen back on the line,” Smith said.

“Yes, sir,” Hook replied.

Kate closed her eyes for a moment to calm her nerves. When she looked back over the water, it was still. Not a single white cap in sight.

A voice pulled her away from the view.

“Alpha Team Leader, this is Plum Island. Do you copy? Over,” Hook said.

A strained voice, weakened by static, came from the wall-mounted speakers.

“Kate, you better get over here,” Riley said.

She was already moving across the room. Her heart hammered in sync with her feet. She squeezed past Horn and Riley next to Hook. Smith paced behind them.

“Plum Island… Do you…” Static surged. “We’re locked in the CIC. Bravo Team Leader is…”

Kate held a breath in her chest, aching for news.

“He’s got blood all over him,” Jensen said.

No. Please God, no.

Smith faced her and said, “What do they do?”

“Let me talk to Reed,” Kate said.

Hook handed her the headset and Kate took a seat. “Jensen, this is Kate. Put Reed on. Now, please!”

White noise coughed out of the speakers, like there was a heavy wind in the background. There was a sharp crackle and then a voice.

“Kate…”

It was Beckham, and despite the digital interference she could hear the fear in his voice.

“I’m here,” Kate replied. “Are you…”

“I have blood on me, Kate. It’s… it’s everywhere.”

Kate could hardly form a response.

Focus. FOCUS!

She had to set aside her feelings. He needed a doctor, not a panicked woman.

“How do you feel? Are you experiencing any hallucinations?” she asked, her voice sharp. She remembered her brother’s final words, the terror in his voice, his shrill screams as the virus ripped through him.

“I don’t know,” Beckham said. “My head hurts, but I don’t know if that’s from infection or—”

“Listen to me, Reed,” Kate said. It pained her to say it, but she had no choice. “You need to stay away from the others right now. We’ve called in an airstrike of VX9H9. It will kill virtually every contagious Variant in the area.”

“Your bioweapon?”

“Yes,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, clinical.

“And how long will it take?”

“The jets are already airborne.”

There was a pause and then, “Peters. Rodriguez. They’re dead, Kate.”

“But you aren’t,” Kate said.

The observation window suddenly rattled. She cupped her headset and strained to hear over the rumble of the incoming jets. Barking sounded across the channel and then relentless pounding.

“Reed, what is that?” Kate shouted.

“We found a dog,” Beckham said. “And the infected are trying to get inside.”

There was shouting in the background. She recognized Timbo’s deep voice and Fitz’s southern drawl. The roar of the jets grew louder, the walls trembling in their wake.

“They’re almost there, Reed. Just hold on!”

“Kate?” he said.

“I’m here,” she said, her voice shaky.

“I’m sorry for earlier—”

The noise from the jets drowned Beckham’s voice as they tore through the sky. She spun back to the window just as three F22s roared over the island.

A wave of panic gripped her as she watched. If Beckham was infected, her bioweapon would kill him. The powerful realization hit her like a missile from one of the jets, and her heart felt like it was going to explode. If Beckham died on that ship, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to keep going.

Beckham sat with his back to one of the radar stations, sucking in breaths tainted with the pungent scent of rotten fruit and infected wounds. The creatures slammed their diseased flesh into the hatch a few feet away, ringing the bell on the bridge with each strike.

“Will that hold?” Timbo shouted.

“Should,” Jensen said.

“What about that one?” Chow pointed to the only other exit to the room, which led to the bow. Beckham glimpsed the brilliant moon through the small porthole and wondered if it was the last time he’d ever see it.

“Keep an eye on that hatch,” Jensen ordered.

The infected beat harder at the entrance. Each impact vibrated through the CIC. Apollo’s barking grew louder, vicious and guttural. The sounds amplified until the distant scream that only an F22 Raptor could make broke through them all. Timbo and Jensen moved to the lookout windows, searching for the jets.

Fitz and Chow flanked Beckham, their weapons shouldered and their frightened eyes flicking from Beckham to the hatches. Beckham studied the end of Fitz’s M27 and imagined it aimed at him. Would his men hesitate if he was infected? Would he hesitate if he were in their shoes?

No. I wouldn’t.

“If I turn, you put a bullet right here,” Beckham said, tapping his throbbing forehead. His mind burned with worry. Every ache, every hint of pain became a sign that he was infected.

“Incoming!” Timbo yelled from the lookout. The Ranger backed away from the glass, motioning Jensen to follow. They retreated to the center of the bridge next to a navigation station.

Beckham heard whispering in his mind, a soft voice he could hardly place at first.

It’s okay, Reed. Get up. You need to get up.

Was he losing it? Was this the trickery of the virus?

Hollow thuds rang out, followed by explosions and the thunder of jets. They had dropped their payloads, and Kate’s bioweapon was airborne.

Beckham heard his mother’s voice a second time.

You have to get up, sweetie.

Despite the depth of his panic, her soft, reassuring voice put him at ease. Beckham pushed himself to his feet.

“Stay down,” Chow said. He shifted his rifle away from the hatch, the muzzle coming dangerously close to Beckham. He didn’t blame Chow; he was an operator, and right now Beckham was a threat.

“It’s okay,” Beckham said.

The hatch rattled in response, their voices infuriating the infected on the other side. Chow trained his M4 back on the steel.

“Those Raptors dropped VX9H9. In a few hours, anything infected with the Hemorrhage virus will be dead,” Beckham said. “Including me.”

Fitz’s eyes softened. “You’re going to be fine. If you were infected, you would already know.”

“Doesn’t always work like that,” Chow said. “I’ve seen people turn in seconds, but I’ve also seen it take longer.”

“He’s right,” Beckham said. “You need to stay back.”

Chow reached down and picked up Beckham’s M4. “Sorry, man, it’s just a precaution.”

Beckham offered a nod and then reached out to Apollo. The dog glanced in his direction, baring white canines. It let out a low growl, fur trembling.

“It’s okay, boy,” Beckham said. He saw then Apollo’s dark eyes weren’t on him. They were locked on the porthole where bulging lips had smacked against the glass.

“Contact!” Timbo yelled. He rushed to the hatch just as an infected crashed through one of the lookout windows behind him. Shattered glass exploded into the air and an infected Variant rolled across the ground. It jumped into a catlike crouch, tilting its bony face in Beckham’s direction and blinking bloodshot eyes.

Its skull disappeared in a torrent of gunfire a beat later. Before the headless body hit the ground, two more frail-looking creatures dove through other windows. Both skittered across the floor on all fours, arching their naked backs, vertebrae protruding. Their joints clicked and clacked with every motion as they darted for cover.

Chow and Fitz worked their way around the stations for better vantages while Beckham pulled on Apollo’s collar to hold the dog back.

“Watch your line of fire,” Jensen yelled as he squeezed off a shot. The round hit one of them in the back and sent it twirling toward Timbo. With no time to fire, the Ranger reached up and snapped its neck in one swift motion. He tossed the limp body aside just as the other emaciated creature lunged at him, clamping its lips onto his muscular forearm.

Timbo let out a roar and tore the thing off his arm in a spray of blood. He took the back of its head in his other hand and slammed it into the helm over and over until its faced had caved in like a smashed pumpkin.

Beckham glimpsed motion through the lookout windows behind Timbo as three more of the infected came barreling across the bow. They charged the windows in full stride, blood dripping down their pale, sunken faces. Chow and Fitz cut the first two down, but the third lunged over the spray and shot through the shattered glass, shredding flesh and muscle in the process. It dropped to the floor, crouched, and coiled its lean muscles.

Jensen pulled his .45, took two steps forward, and shot the creature before it could strike. Brains exploded out of the exit wound, peppering an oval radar with chunks of gore. He quickly holstered his pistol and changed the magazine in his rifle.

“Looks like that’s all of them,” Chow said, panting. He backpedaled from the broken lookout windows, his rifle still shouldered and involuntarily roving for contacts. Jensen and Fitz had crowded around Timbo.

The Ranger collapsed in a chair, cupping his arm and shaking his bowed helmet from side to side. “It fucking got me, man!”

Beckham pulled back on Apollo’s collar again as the dog growled at the corpse next to Timbo’s feet. Bloody tears streaked down the monster’s collapsed face. There was no question it was infected with the Hemorrhage virus.

Closing his eyes, Beckham sucked in a breath of sour air. Instead of his men watching him turn, he was forced to endure the pain of witnessing one of his own brothers transform into a monster. His eyes snapped back open just as Timbo jolted in the chair.

Chow, Fitz, and Jensen slowly raised their guns. Timbo’s hand slipped away from his injured arm. He glanced down at the exposed muscle and then back up at his team.

“Do it!” Timbo roared.

“Maybe you won’t turn,” Fitz said, looking over at Jensen for support. The lieutenant colonel kept his gaze on the Ranger.

“He already is,” Chow whispered. “Look at him.”

“Wait!” Beckham shouted.

Timbo looked over at him and snorted. “It’s okay, man. I had a good run.” His eyes rolled up into his head then and a stream of blood trickled from his nose. A scream erupted from his mouth and he reached up to claw at his eyes.

Before anyone could react, he batted Chow’s rifle away and shoved him into a wall. Chow crumpled to the ground, his weapon sliding across the floor.

“Timbo, stop!” Beckham yelled a second too late.

Jensen was already firing at the bulky Ranger’s chest. The barrage of rounds cut through Timbo’s flak jacket and tore into his flesh as he charged Chow.

The operator jumped to his feet and kicked Timbo in the chest with such force it sent them both sprawling backward. Timbo crashed into an ops station. Blood gushed from his flak jacket, saturating his fatigues.

Jensen centered his weapon on Timbo but paused. The Ranger tilted his head and narrowed bloodshot eyes at his brothers in turn, stopping on Beckham. Past the crazed look, there was a flicker of sadness that vanished just as Jensen fired and took off the top of Timbo’s skull.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen said, lowering his rifle. “God, I’m so sorry.” He dropped to his knees and sobbed.

The hatch continued rattling, but none of the men were paying attention. In a few hours, the noise would fade away and the infected crewmen would join Timbo, Peters, Rodriguez, and Scottie in death.

The mechanical whir of chopper blades pulled Kate toward the tarmac. She ran after Major Smith as fast as she could in her bulky CBR suit. Ellis trailed her, yelling for her to wait.

“You know what to do if something happens to me,” Kate shouted back. Ellis was a gifted scientist and could continue their work without her if something were to happen. His footfalls faded away and she pushed on, battling the fierce wind from the rotors.

Horn was already at the chopper, decked out in a white CBR suit that fit snuggly around his muscles. He manned a viscerally terrifying machine gun that looked more like a cannon. He reached down and offered a gloved hand to help her inside. She took a seat next to Sergeant Lombardi.

“You sure you want to come?” Horn asked.

Kate simply nodded.

“You’re clear to go!” Smith yelled from the tarmac. He flashed a thumbs up, and ran back to the concrete barriers where Riley and Ellis waited with Horn’s girls. Kate didn’t wave goodbye as the Blackhawk lifted into the sky.

“He’s going to be okay,” Horn said. “Try not to worry.”

Three hours had passed since the aircraft had dropped their payloads. She had assured Smith that most of the people infected with the virus would have bled out by now. He’d reluctantly allowed her to go on the mission, but it had taken some convincing.

And now she was in the air, the water below sparkling in the moonlight. She watched the island become a dot on the horizon and then she turned away, searching the approaching Connecticut shoreline for the Truxtun.

Kate’s earpiece crackled. “ETA two minutes,” the pilot said.

Horn rotated the machine gun, and Lombardi moved to the door with his rifle. Both men were prepared for a fight that Kate hoped they would avoid.

“There she is,” Lombardi said, pointing toward the coast.

Kate followed his fingers to the outline of the destroyer.

“Alpha, Echo 1, do you copy, over?” one of the pilots said.

Jensen responded a moment later. “Copy that, Echo 1. We’re on the bow, waiting for evac.” He sounded defeated, his voice brittle.

The chopper pulled to the left as the pilots prepared to circle the ship. Kate looked over the side as the beach vanished and a road clogged with abandoned vehicles came into focus. Corpses littered the asphalt between the cars. Kate hardly felt anything at all and realized in that moment she’d grown immune to the sight of carnage, something she never thought could happen.

Then she saw two smaller shapes sprawled on the road. Children, she realized. Their clothing flapped in the wind as the chopper passed overhead. A stab of despair ached in Kate’s gut then, reminding her that she was still human after all. She hoped Horn hadn’t seen them but knew he had. Since meeting Beckham and his team, she’d learned these men saw everything.

Kate shifted to the other side of the troop hold. They passed over a ridgeline thick with trees as the pilots circled the Truxtun. Branches whipped back and forth over a single Variant perched on a stump. It watched them pass, tilting its head at an unnatural angle. Horn saw it at the same moment. “Contact!” he yelled.

Lombardi scoped the trees. “We got more than one!”

Kate’s heart pounded as she saw the Variant bolt across the ridge and jump to the road below. Two dozen of the creatures burst from the thick canopy and pursued the leader, their naked bodies clambering toward several figures on the bow of the ship. They must have spotted Beckham and the others, Kate realized.

“Get me into position!” Horn shouted at the pilots.

The Blackhawk changed course with a sharp turn. The high-pitched whine of the heavy machine gun came a second later as Horn fired. Tracer rounds lanced through the darkness and slammed into concrete and cars. The barrage of projectiles splattered the road with body parts. Half of the pack fanned out for cover.

The pilots circled for another pass to finish the job. Two injured Variants crawled across the road, dragging stumps where their legs had been. Horn picked them off and then focused his fire on the more elusive creatures. He mowed down another four on the second pass. A third of the original pack continued toward the Truxtun in a mad dash.

Kate glimpsed four figures and a dog waiting on the deck of the destroyer. As they flew closer, she saw Fitz’s metal blades glistening in the moonlight. Jensen stood to his right and Chow to his left. They all had their weapons pointed toward the bow of the ship. Behind them another man stood watching, his hand holding the collar of a German Shepherd.

“Reed,” Kate whispered. The chopper pulled away and she spied a large body surrounded in blood behind him. Her heart skipped when she saw it was Timbo and then fluttered a second time when she realized the soldiers were trying to bring him back to the island.

The chopper maneuvered for a third pass. The remaining Variants were almost to the destroyer now.

“Kill them, Horn! Hurry!” she yelled.

Horn worked the gun back and forth, sending more of the monsters spinning into the darkness. Two made it through the gunfire. One leapt onto the roof of a minivan and looked up at the chopper, swiping with its claws. Horn centered the gun on the van and fired.

The Variant disappeared in a cloud of red as the rounds ripped through it. The windows shattered and the tires exploded.

The remaining creature galloped across the sand and leapt onto the side of the ship. It skittered up the metal, using its flexible joints and microscopic hairs to climb up the vertical side.

“Stop it!” Kate shouted.

Horn trained his machine gun on the ship just as the crack of Lombardi’s rifle sounded. Red mist exploded from the monster’s back. It skidded down the metal and fell to the ground.

Kate worked her way back to the edge of the open door as the chopper descended over the ship. Chow and Jensen were dragging Timbo by his boots across the deck, leaving a trail of smeared blood.

“You can’t bring him!” Kate yelled.

“He’s coming with!” Jensen shouted.

“He’s infected!” she shouted back. “His blood puts us all at risk!”

Chow dropped one of Timbo’s boots, but Jensen held on and stared at the Ranger for a few more seconds. Fitz stopped to whisper something and patted Jensen on the shoulder before continuing to the chopper with Chow.

“Help them, Lombardi!” Horn shouted.

The sergeant pulled Kate out of the way and reached out to grab Fitz. The Marine clambered inside and collapsed onto the floor. Chow and Jensen followed, but Beckham hesitated.

“Come on!” Fitz shouted.

Kate reached out to him. “Now, Reed!”

Beckham glanced down at his uniform and then back at Kate. “I have infected blood on me too!”

“But we don’t know if you’re infected,” Kate insisted.

“Move your ass, Beckham!” Horn shouted.

Beckham finally grabbed the dog and carried it toward the chopper. It squirmed in his arms, fighting to get free. The other men took seats at the opposite end of the compartment as Beckham set the dog inside and climbed aboard.

The pilots pulled the bird away from the ship and Kate scooted across the floor to Beckham. He held up a hand and said, “Stay back.”

“No,” Kate said, batting his arm away and sitting next to him. “No more pushing me away. You’re going to be fine, Reed. We’re going to get through this together.”

He offered a weak nod and turned to look out over the Truxtun. Fitz, Chow, and Jensen were all staring at Timbo’s body as the chopper ascended into the sky.