Extinction Age

-14-

A shelf of clouds drifted across the moon, but the sky was alive with stars. Beckham and Kate stood on the steps outside Building 1, hand in hand. The perpetual glow of cities that had polluted the sky just a month ago was gone. The once great metropolises were now home only to Variants.

Beckham pulled Kate away from the door to make room for Horn and his girls. Both operators wore the uniforms they had been issued when they arrived at the island. Missing were the medals they had earned in distant lands, in a time when Beckham’s biggest fear had been terrorists. He never thought he’d feel nostalgic for his time in Iraq and Afghanistan.

He shook the thoughts from his head as Horn led his girls onto the landing. Beckham’s heart ached when he saw Jenny and Tasha in clean white dresses they must have gotten from another family on the island. Their curly red hair was neatly braided, and their small faces were solemn.

“Ready?” Horn asked. He grabbed Tasha and Jenny’s hands and helped them down the steps. The wrinkles in their dresses disappeared in the soft breeze.

Halfway down the path, Beckham saw the silhouetted outline of a wheelchair. The only other remaining original member of Team Ghost waited outside the barracks. Fitz and Chow flanked Riley on both sides, their arms crossed.

Beckham squeezed Kate’s hand tighter.

Their group grew in size as Fitz, Riley, and Chow fell into line behind Beckham and the others. He walked alongside Kate, his pace slow but purposeful. It felt a lot like marching. Beckham considered saying something but decided to save his words for the service.

The garish flicker from a bonfire glowed over Building 3, urging Beckham and the others onward. Besides a few patrols, the base looked deserted. The remaining population had gathered on the beach.

“Girls, you wanna help push?” Riley asked, cutting through the silence. “I’m not going to be in this thing much longer. Might be your last chance.” He twisted in his chair and gestured to Tasha and Jenny with a hand.

The girls looked up for their father’s approval. He offered it with a nod, and Jenny grabbed the back of Riley’s chair.

“Not too fast!” Riley said, as Tasha gripped the other handle. The girls put all of their strength into pushing Riley, giggling. The kid had always been one of the bright spirits that helped Team Ghost through the darkest of times.

Beckham checked the guard towers as they walked. Each had two soldiers inside. The long muzzles of their rifles looked out over the island.

“Better let me, girls,” Chow said when they reached the gravel path that wrapped around Building 3. He took over and guided Riley’s chair, rock crunching under the wheels.

The leaves of trees rustled softly overhead. Beckham squeezed his way out in front and pulled Kate ahead. He halted at the edge of the shoreline, his breath stripped away by the sight of the white crosses in the dirt separating the beach from the trees.

“Daddy, is Mommy buried over there?” Tasha asked.

Horn bent down and scooped her up. His features tensed in the glow from the bonfire raging on the beach below.

“No, sweetie,” Horn said, cupping the back of her head with a large, gentle hand.

Beckham said a mental prayer for those civilians and soldiers buried in the fresh graves. Jinx was the only soldier they’d managed to recover during their missions outside of the island. The rest of Team Ghost and the Rangers and Marines from Fort Bragg were lost. Building 8, New York City, and the Truxtun had claimed them. He still hated himself for leaving Timbo behind, but he understood the reason.

Kate squeezed his hand as they continued walking. Beckham’s heart swelled in his chest when he saw Jinx’s body resting on a cot draped with a US flag. A shovel marked the spot where they would lay him to rest. They would not erect a tombstone or lay flowers at Jinx’s grave. It was Islamic tradition, one Jinx had asked them to honor long ago when they’d shared their plans for how they wanted to be buried.

Jinx had been a jokester on the outside, but beneath that he had also been a deeply spiritual man. Beckham had always respected him for that. Team Ghost had been the only ones who knew their brother was Muslim, but it hadn’t mattered to them, even in a time where the War on Terror had brought a wave of anti-Islamic sentiment. He was their brother, in life and in death.

Jensen met them on the sand and said, “I’ll give you a few minutes to honor Staff Sergeant Jinx.”

Beckham appreciated Jensen’s display of respect and nodded. He dropped Kate’s hand and felt a little tug on his sleeve. He looked down and saw Jenny’s questioning face turned up to him.

“Is that Mister Jinx?”

“Yes,” Beckham replied. He leaned down and gave her a hug, glancing up at Kate as he embraced Jenny. “Stay with them, please.”

“Come here, girls,” Kate said, her arms outstretched.

“Let’s go, Team Ghost,” Beckham said, jerking his chin toward the graves. Chow, Riley and Horn followed him, but Fitz hesitated as if he was unsure if he was welcome.

Beckham waved the Marine onward, a small gesture to tell him he had earned the right. He was their brother now, just as much as Jinx had been.

Fitz trudged through the sand, his blades sinking with every step. Chow struggled, too, grunting as he pushed Riley’s chair.

“Help me up,” Riley said. “I’m not sitting down for this.”

“You sure, kid?” Horn asked.

“Yeah, Big Horn,” Riley said. He grabbed the arm guards to hoist himself up.

Horn shrugged and looked at Chow. Together, the two operators pulled Riley from his chair and carried him under his arms to the gravesite.

“Fitz,” Beckham said. “Can you help Riley keep his feet?”

The Marine nodded and took Riley’s weight from Chow, who joined Beckham beside the cot. Together they lifted the flag, revealing Jinx’s body wrapped in the traditional funeral shroud of his faith.

Beckham and Chow stepped to the side and folded the flag in silence. When they’d finished, Chow carried the banner and handed it to Riley, who cradled it against his stomach. Beckham took a knee next to Jinx’s body.

“Rest in peace, brother,” he whispered.

“Hope you’re in a better place, bro,” Chow said. He crouched down and placed a hand on Jinx’s chest.

“Help me with him,” Beckham said. He grabbed Jinx under the arms and Chow picked up his feet. They gently hoisted his body off the cot.

“Careful,” Chow said.

They lowered him into the wooden box already in the grave with exaggerated care. Chow bowed his head and whispered a prayer under his breath. He let out a deep sigh, tore the shovel from the dirt, and began filling in his best friend’s grave. Beckham and the other men watched in silence, the crimson glow from the fire glimmering over Chow’s silhouette as he worked.

No color guard stood ready to offer a volley of shots. Jinx wasn’t receiving a burial at Arlington, just an unmarked grave on the beach, surrounded by what was left of his brothers in arms.

When Chow finished, he pulled his sleeve over his forehead and jammed the shovel back into the dirt. The breeze rippled their uniforms as they stood and paid their final respects. After a long silence, Riley held out the folded flag to Chow, who took it and held it over his heart.

The sound of a barking dog came across the wind as Beckham led his men back down the beach. Several figures were making their way through the trees behind Building 3. Apollo darted toward Beckham the moment he saw him.

“Apollo,” Beckham said. “Come here, boy.”

The dog stopped and sat a few feet away, looking up with obsidian eyes and wagging his tail. Beckham patted his head and then snapped his fingers. Apollo quickly followed him down the beach toward the bonfire.

A crowd was gathered around the flames, watching embers shoot into the night sky. Jensen met Beckham at the edge of the beach.

“I’m not much for speeches,” Jensen said. “But I need to inform everyone about the change in command. Hate to do it now, but I’m not sure when General Kennor will send my replacement.”

“Best to do it when everyone is here,” Beckham said.

Jensen offered a rueful nod that told Beckham the officer was doing his best to keep it together. After the massacre in New York and the horror on the Truxtun, he looked like he’d aged fifteen years.

“Mind if I say a few words after you?” Beckham asked.

“I was hoping you would,” Jensen said. He patted Beckham on the back and they joined the crowd. Kate and Ellis stood next to Horn’s girls. Beside them was a woman on crutches whom Beckham didn’t recognize at first until Riley called out, “Hey, Meg!”

It was no wonder he hadn’t recognized her. Meg was still covered in bruises and cuts, but her dark eyes were lively instead of haunted and her hair was neatly swept into a ponytail. She cracked a smile and waved with a crutch. The smile widened when she saw Beckham.

“Master Sergeant,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to thank you for saving my life.”

Beckham didn’t mean to frown, but felt his brow forming one anyway. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“Yes. Yes, I do. If it weren’t for you, I would have died in that awful place.”

Jensen cleared his throat across the bonfire, interrupting their conversation.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “Tonight we pay our respects to those that we’ve lost in this war. Mothers, fathers. Sisters and brothers. Children…” He paused and bowed his head. “I want to take a few minutes for those of us who believe in a higher power to pray.”

Beckham grabbed Kate’s hand. Apollo leaned against his legs and whined softly. The fire crackled and popped as the crowd paid their silent respects.

“Thank you,” Jensen said after a moment of quiet. “I also want to inform you of some changes. General Kennor has revoked my command. He’s sending his own men to take over this post.”

A few whispered conversations broke out, civilians turning to one another in confusion and alarm.

“I hope you will all show our new commander the respect you have shown me, and I thank you for your support during my tenure. There are difficult days ahead, but together, we can—we will—get through them,” Jensen said. He spotted Beckham in the crowd and waved him over.

“Sit,” Beckham said to Apollo.

Beckham tugged on the sides of his uniform to straighten it. He walked over to Jensen, saluted, and waited for Jensen to return the salute. The formalities done, Beckham shook the officer’s hand.

“Thank you, sir,” Beckham said. He faced the crowd and exhaled. He wasn’t a man of many words, but tonight he had a few. He shifted his gaze from face to face, stopping on Horn’s.

“Sheila Horn was a good mother and wife to Staff Sergeant Parker Horn. We lost her at Fort Bragg, along with so many of our Delta brothers. We lost even more in New York and then on the Truxtun.” Beckham paused, his voice cracking. As he scanned those in front of him, he knew that they’d all lost brothers and sisters in the war. He didn’t want to single out his own men. “Tonight we remember everyone who has fallen.”

“Amen,” said someone in the crowd.

“I know you’re all scared. You have every right to be. I’m scared, too. But I’m also certain that the human race will overcome,” Beckham continued.

He looked at Kate, her face bathed in the orange light of the bonfire. She smiled back at him.

“I promise you that my men and I will do everything in our power to keep you safe while Dr. Lovato develops a new weapon,” Beckham said. “Our future begins here, and together we will defeat the Variants and we will retake our cities.”

The clapping and cheering of the small crowd was drowned out by the sound of an approaching helicopter. Several of the civilians pointed at the sky, and Beckham threw a glance over his shoulder. The outline of a Chinook exploded from the clouds. It circled the island and then disappeared over the trees to land on the tarmac beyond.

Jensen stepped up to Beckham’s side. “General Kennor moves fast.”

“Yes, he sure does, sir,” Beckham replied.

“Thank you all!” Jensen shouted. “If you’ll follow Major Smith to the gravesites, we will continue the service.”

The crowd had started to disperse when raised voices sounded from the main campus. Half a dozen men decked out in black fatigues and body armor emerged from the trees. They jogged onto the beach carrying scoped SCAR rifles.

“Lieutenant Colonel Jensen,” one of the men shouted.

“You didn’t waste any time,” Jensen said.

Beckham stood his ground next to Jensen as the team approached. The officer leading the group halted and balled his hand into a fist. Then he pushed his black helmet up, revealing a face pockmarked with acne scars and a pair of striking blue eyes.

“Colonel Wood. It’s been a while,” Jensen said. “I haven’t seen you since, what? That joint project with Colonel Gibson?” He placed careful emphasis on the words, as if wanting to make sure that Beckham heard them.

“Sounds right,” Wood replied dryly. “Wish I was here to give you good news, but as you know I’m here to relieve you of your command. If you would please come with us, we have a lot to discuss.” He stretched out an arm, fingers pointed back toward the buildings.

Jensen hesitated. “Sir, we are having a service for our—”

“Now, Lieutenant Colonel,” Wood said. He turned away and flashed a signal to his men. They circled around and waited for Jensen to fall into line.

It took everything in Beckham to watch Colonel Wood and his team escort Jensen away.

“Reed,” Kate said. She placed a hand on his back, helping calm the anger that threatened to boil in his gut.

“He didn’t deserve that,” she said.

“No,” Beckham said. “He didn’t.” They walked over to the graves in silence and found a spot at the back of the crowd. Beckham saw the fresh dirt of an unmarked grave he’d missed before. It was on the north end of the others, about ten feet from the white crosses.

“Who’s buried there?” Beckham asked.

“Gibson,” Kate replied. “I guess they figured it was better that way.”

Beckham scratched Apollo behind his ears and stared at Gibson’s grave. The chapter on Gibson was closed, but Wood had worked with the man. Somehow Beckham had a hard time believing that a high-ranking officer like him hadn’t known about the work going on in Building 8. Then again, he’d mistrusted Jensen just because of the man’s association with Gibson, and Beckham had been wrong.

But while Jensen had proved himself as a man Beckham could trust, he had little—if any—faith left in Central Command or the colonel they had sent to take over. Not now, after they’d all sacrificed so much. Beckham silently vowed that if Wood turned out to be another traitor like Gibson, he’d take the colonel out himself.

General Kennor sat in his office with the lights off. It was a guilty pleasure he’d developed over the years. No one ever seemed to knock when the lights were off. Not unless there was a war.

A rap on his door came a few minutes after he’d closed his eyes. He recognized the brisk, efficient knock.

“Flip the lights, will you Colonel Harris?” Kennor said. “I was trying to get some sleep.”

The glow from a bank of lights over his desk spilled over the room.

“Sorry, sir. Thought you would like to know that Colonel Wood has touched down at Plum Island. He’s relieved Lieutenant Colonel Jensen of his command and has taken over the post.”

“Good,” Kennor said. “Jensen’s a damn fool. I should have known I couldn’t trust him after New York.”

Kennor cursed himself for giving up so much control. He was already retreating from the cities. He would not allow himself to lose places like Plum Island. It was a vital piece of winning the war.

Kennor repositioned a picture of his grandkids on his desk. It was the only personal item he’d managed to take with him before he had been evacuated from the Pentagon. But there had been no armed entourage to take his family to an underground bunker. They had been lost in the madness of the outbreak.

“Sir, is there anything else?” Harris asked. He clasped his hands behind his back.

“Yes,” Kennor said. He ran a finger over the picture and then leaned back in his chair.

“Tell Colonel Wood I want him to oversee Dr. Lovato’s work. Everything goes through him. If she wants a goddamn test tube, she needs to get it approved.”

“Understood, sir,” he pivoted away from the desk and walked to the door.

“Oh, and Harris?” Kennor said, stopping him in mid-stride. “Tell him to monitor Jensen’s men. After that stunt they pulled on the Truxtun, I have questions about their loyalties.”

The next morning Beckham and his team gathered on the lawn outside Building 1. Fitz, Horn, Chow, and even Riley trailed him across the grass. Colonel Wood and an entourage of his soldiers waited for all of the enlisted men and women to report for a briefing. More troops had arrived under the cover of darkness. Beckham counted a dozen of them, all wearing the same black fatigues with the Medical Corps insignia. There were more on the towers and more patrolling the shoreline and wooded area around the buildings.

With a square meal and a decent night of sleep under his belt, Beckham felt the most refreshed he’d been since the outbreak. Alert and on edge, he was ready to hear what Wood had in store for the island.

Jensen and Smith stood behind the colonel. Neither of them showed any emotion. Beckham suspected Jensen was doing the exact same thing he had done when they met Lieutenant Gates back in NYC—he was waiting for Wood to lay the cards on the table and then act accordingly. Beckham would do the same damn thing in his position.

“I’ll keep this short as we have a lot of work to do,” Wood said. He shielded his face from the bright morning sun with a hand. “As many of you already know, I’m Colonel Wood with USAMRIID. Under orders from General Kennor, I have officially taken over this post. I will be splitting my time between this facility and several other top-secret locations as we pursue a weapon to destroy the Variants. You will all be assigned a new CO during this time. I don’t care what branch you are from or what you did before. You will report to your CO at 1000 hours to receive your new orders. Some of you will be deployed to other locations. Make no mistake: this is war, and as soldiers we will do what we have to.”

Beckham clenched his jaw as if he were bracing himself for a blow to the face, but Wood stopped there. He turned to Jensen and Smith, exchanging a few words Beckham couldn’t hear.

“That is all, dismissed!” Major Smith shouted.

Jensen caught Beckham on his way out. He waited for most of the men to disperse and then said, “You better steel yourself, Beckham. Things are gonna get fucked.”

“Figured as much,” Beckham said. “Wood talks a big game, but—”

He felt a nudge on his shoulder. “Boss, shut up,” Horn whispered.

Beckham turned to see Wood standing there.

“Master Sergeant, I’d like to have a word with you,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Beckham replied, trying to conceal his surprise.

Wood waved off the two soldiers flanking him and continued across the grass. “I’m told you’re the best soldier we have on the island.”

“I don’t know about that,” Beckham said as he followed Wood. “But I have seen what the Variants are capable of. In fact, I saw where this all started.”

Wood stopped, keeping his back to Beckham. “Building 8, I presume?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The Hemorrhage virus should never have escaped the facility.”

The top-secret building was no longer a secret, but Beckham still found it interesting the colonel would bring it up. It confirmed his suspicions that Wood might have known what Gibson was doing all along.

“I’m flying out to one of our other locations in the next couple of hours,” Wood said. “But I wanted to talk to you before I leave. I’ve assembled a strategy that puts Plum Island on the offensive. That requires recon missions. I’ve done my best to keep you and your men together. Horn and Chow will be assigned to your team, but I’m keeping Fitz on the towers. Your CO is Lieutenant Colonel Jensen.”

Beckham considered protesting but stiffened instead. “Understood, sir.”

Wood nodded and let out a low whistle. His entourage followed him toward the command building. Beckham watched them go and then glanced at the blue sky framed on both sides by swollen storm clouds. There was no question in his mind that this was Wood’s attempt to keep a tight leash on Team Ghost and Jensen. The colonel didn’t trust them, but that was fine because Beckham didn’t trust Wood either. He would keep his head down for now, like he always did, and wait until the truth revealed itself.

With the wind picking up, Beckham turned back to his team to give them the news. The storm on the horizon wasn’t the only one coming, and he was going to be damned if he let anyone—human or Variant—destroy everything he had worked so hard to build here.