Extinction Agenda

Chapter Ten

Shreveport, Louisiana

Two miles northwest of the Bossier City Reservoir

The NH-90 tactical transport helicopter roared over the flat Louisiana landscape amid a roar of engines. It was only one in a formation of the metallic aerial predators that had been specially modified for service in the IRD. One thing that hadn’t needed modification was the thermal imaging camera mounted to its nose. As the helicopter sped toward Shreveport, it scanned the terrain for any sign of its prey.

Inside, Major Adderson hung onto a steel grip bolted over his head so he could remain upright without taking his eyes from the thermal camera’s display. Since the sun was still adding some heat to the ground and casting a glare, he adjusted the monitor to a less sensitive setting while also flipping it to black and white. Almost immediately a group of white blobs leapt out at him from the dark gray mass covering most of the screen. “We have contact,” he said to the man beside him.

The other man stood with Adderson and the pilot in the front section of the aircraft. He was short with a wiry build tailor-made for the tight confines of jets and attack copters. Hanging from another of the hand grips mounted to the ceiling, he looked over Adderson’s shoulder at the display and said, “Looks like a pack of Class Twos. Kind of small, though.” He reached over for a little stick set into the console near the bottom right portion of the screen. With a few expert nudges, he panned around to where he wanted despite the helicopter’s churning forward movement. “There they are. Looks like two smaller packs running alongside that other one.” He reached for the switch of the radio clipped to the front of his flight suit and said, “Veer off to the west and swing back around. Flight pattern Alpha.”

“Alpha,” Adderson said. “You think there’s a Class One out there?”

“Class Twos travel in packs anyway, but when you see little groups working together, that usually means there’s a big papa somewhere nearby steering them.”

As if responding to that, the pilot spoke through the channel designated for local chatter. “Visual contact on a possible Class One. Please verify. Over.”

Adderson allowed the smaller man to work the controls until a huge white blob marking a heat source smeared across the screen. He switched away from the thermal imaging then and got a good look at a massive Full Blood covered in thick layers of silvery gray fur that flowed across its back as it loped on all fours behind at least a dozen Half Breeds. After flipping over to a broader channel, Adderson keyed his radio and announced, “Ravens Two and Three, this is Raven One. Confirmed sighting of a Class One shifter and several packs of Class Twos. Be advised, unknown number of additional Class Twos in the vicinity.” After keying off of the open channel, he moved away from the monitor and allowed the smaller man to take his spot back.

The main cabin of the helicopter contained five soldiers who were buckled into seats that folded down from the wall or from a set of posts in the middle of the cramped space. As the NH-90 banked through a wide turn, Adderson shifted his weight to keep from stumbling as he studied his men. The soldiers were dressed in standard black, white, and gray camo fatigues bearing only a name tag and the half-wolf, half-skull patch of the IRD. Each was armed with an HK G36 assault rifle. Adderson claimed one for himself from a rack as he said, “In case you haven’t heard, we found the dogs we were after. There’s a whole lot of them along with one big papa. Looks like they’re headed for Shreveport, but we’re not about to let that happen. Am I right?”

Despite being a mix of races, nationalities, and gender, all of the soldiers responded with an affirmative bark that made them sound like their own breed of pack animal. Their rifles were held in steady hands and their eyes reflected just the right mixture of aggression and anxiety.

“Standard drill,” Adderson continued. “We land and deploy while the others provide air support and reinforcements if necessary. Our mission is to set explosives and try to draw those things close enough to feel the burn. Our specialists left some of their sniper rounds, but there’s not a lot left.”

“Do we have any specialists on this mission, sir?” one of the soldiers asked.

Even though the extent of the Skinners’ knowledge wasn’t commonly known to the IRD rank and file, their contributions had been large enough for their presence to be immediately felt. There were only a handful of Skinners who’d agreed to ride with the IRD on any mission, and only Cole and Paige could be counted on with any consistency. Still, no matter how much a rifleman knew about what Skinners actually did, they were aware that having them along greatly increased their odds of survival. Adderson had plenty of faith in his men, but a morale boost like that was hard to come by. He felt a regretful pang in his gut when he told them, “No specialists this time around, although I was informed by one of them that there’s a pair of fighter jets in the air that may be able to rain some hell down on these things.”

All of the soldiers nodded slowly as their chins dropped.

“That’s no smoke up your ass,” Adderson assured them. “Backup should be on the way, but we don’t need that. This is just a matter of shooting those Class Twos until they can’t move anymore. Drop one, move on to the next. Repeat as necessary.”

“What about the Class One?” another soldier asked.

“Leave it to the air support and explosives. We can only do so much, but it’s a hell of a lot more than those civvies who’ll be watching the show in Shreveport can do.”

The soldier grunted. “And on every other goddamn news station there is.”

“You’re right about that. So instead of letting those fucking dogs rip them to shreds, let’s give those civilians something to watch!”

The soldiers shouted their approval several times, and before they were finished, Adderson was shouting right along with them.

All three helicopters poured on one last burst of speed to get as far ahead of the Half Breeds as possible. Since they were able to get ahead of the creatures at all, Adderson knew the wolves were either conserving their strength or slowing down on purpose to meet them. Either way, he didn’t like it.

For some, hitting the ground running was just a motivational term. For the IRD, it was a means of staying alive for more than three seconds after being dropped into a hot zone. The helicopter barely touched down before the soldiers streamed out. Adderson was first on the ground, and the instant his boots slapped against the dirt he had his assault rifle in hand and was running toward the other two helicopters that hovered about twenty feet above the swaying brown grass. The remaining soldiers piled out behind him.

The Half Breeds were coming. Their paws made impacts that rumbled through the earth. Their panting breaths formed a current that rolled beneath the wind roaring in from the west. The other two helicopters deployed their men using drop lines, which hung from their doors like weighted tails. As those soldiers were unloaded, the pilots only had to pivot in the air to unleash a stream of fire from the mounted machine guns that poked their muzzles through a modified window. When the first Half Breed leapt up to try and grab it, the NH-90 moved away so it could continue firing. As the drop troops disconnected from their lines and raised their weapons, Adderson and his men opened fire.

All of those weapons formed a singular voice that melded with the thumping chopper blades to create a wave of fury that knocked the first batch of Half Breeds off their feet. None of the IRD soldiers wasted a moment in counting their blessings because the next wave was already upon them.

All three helicopters rose up and fanned out, hovering just above the newly adjusted minimum safe distance to avoid unwanted interruption of flight patterns due to Half Breeds clawing at their fuselage. The belt-fed machine guns pumped round after round into the werewolves farthest from the soldiers so as not to incur any friendly fire. Basically, it amounted to pounding the hell out of the same bunch of dogs until they were paste, which left a whole lot of work to be done.

Adderson knew it helped to think along tactical lines when he was in the mix. He considered a battle from afar even as he was wrapped up in it. That made it easier to go on when his men were knocked over by a gnarled shapeshifter that ripped a previously excited face off of its skull. When Half Breed and IRD lines converged, it was a bloody nightmare. HKs and claws all sent blood into the air. Screams and howls, both human and otherwise, filled his ears.

His focus was narrowed even more when one of those bastards singled him out. It was a long, lanky Half Breed with a face that had already been hit by heavy caliber fire to reveal knots of muscles that were white from the strain of keeping its head together while opening a mouth filled with crooked fangs. He fired in controlled bursts, and when that didn’t drop the shaggy fucker, switched to full auto to force it back before it brought him down.

“Grenade out!” a woman behind him shouted. That was followed by the sharp cracking sound of a rifle-mounted launcher sending its explosive round into a target that was hopefully several yards away.

It wasn’t.

The grenade thumped into the chest of a Half Breed directly behind the one that had taken a run at Adderson. It went off, opening a sizable hole in the creature, but not as sizable as it should have been. He was still having a hard time getting used to how tough those things were. It seemed as if all of weaponry he’d come to know like the back of his hand had been dialed down. For the moment, however, that Half Breed was down, the creatures around it were staggered, and he’d been thrown to the ground in the explosion.

Adderson was dazed and his ears were ringing. While his brain struggled to pull his thoughts together, his legs and arms fought to bring him to his feet. Three Half Breeds tore through two of his men like they were made of jelly and then feasted on their meat. He fired until his gun ran dry, reloaded, and fired some more. Grabbing the radio that was linked to the longer range frequencies powered by equipment in the helicopters, he shouted, “This is Hunting Party One to Lodge. Come in!”

After a few seconds of crackling static, a voice from a command center in Wyoming replied, “This is Lodge. Go ahead Hunting Party One.”

“Where’s our goddamn air strike?”

“F-18s are engaging targets outside of New Orleans, Hunting Party.”

“Gimme an ETA! We’re getting ripped apart and a Class One is set to jump on us!”

“Unknown at this time. F-18s are currently—”

“Explosives are out!”

He didn’t know where the advisory had come from, but Adderson rolled onto his belly and covered his head. A moment later there was a deafening thump followed by a blast wave that jammed his nose into the dirt. Something heavy landed beside him, and he looked to see if it was a Half Breed or another soldier caught in the blast. The Full Blood was neither.

Esteban’s fur was smoking from the explosion. Caught somewhere between forms, he kicked four large paws into the air while rolling onto his side. By the time he got there, he had two legs, two arms, and a vaguely human torso. There was nothing even vaguely human, however, about the face that was turned toward the major. “You are their leader,” he snarled.

Adderson responded to that by propping himself up, taking aim and clamping his finger on the trigger. The AK rattled in his hands while spouting a choppy current of lead into the Full Blood. Esteban placed a hand in front of his face while climbing to his feet. Sections of his coat were singed all the way down to rough patches of skin, and when some of Adderson’s rounds hit him there, they barely left a crease. Every other bullet snagged in his fur or thumped uselessly against his body.

Shifting his gaze toward the soldiers that rushed to Adderson’s side, Esteban said, “Watch.”

“Get clear, Major!” a soldier shouted.

Although Adderson was a hell of a long way from clear, he replied, “Hit him, hit him!”

Automatic fire came, followed by the thump of a grenade against Esteban’s body. The explosive bounced away and went off among the Half Breeds. Fortunately for Adderson, Esteban’s body was tough enough to shield him from the blast. When the howling started, the firing stopped.

Rifles clattered as they landed heavily on the ground after being dropped by soldiers who only wanted to press their hands against their faces or clamp them over their ears. Next came the screams.

It wasn’t the first time Adderson had seen the Breaking up close. On some level, he wondered if he’d begun leading the charges because he got sick of hanging back at a safe distance while the soldiers he’d sent into battle dropped like flies. He’d heard the crunching bones over earpieces and headphones on missions across the entire country. That sound, along with the screams and howls that followed, meant another member of the IRD had died drowning in a sea of pain. They, like the soldiers who now fell after trying to save his life, could very well be in agony until some lucky shot put them down.

“I’ve shown you this before,” Esteban said in a Spanish accent that gave each of his words an exotic curl. “And still you continue to oppose us. Perhaps you need a closer look.”

“Stop it,” Adderson said. Even though he knew he was speaking to an animal, he pleaded, “Stop what you’re doing, you piece of shit!”

One of Esteban’s eyebrows rose as it he was taking a small bit of amusement from the automatic fire chattering through the air and the small explosions thumping all around him. “You would rather they die than be turned? That is more honorable than I would expect from a human. Usually, the rats would rather live no matter what that life entails.”

Behind Esteban, more soldiers dropped. The first ones to go down writhed on the ground as their bodies were reshaped and their teeth were knocked out by the tusks that grew in to replace them. In Adderson’s ear, a pilot announced, “Raven Two has a shot.”

“Take it, Raven Two,” Adderson said, before struggling to put as much space as possible between himself and the Full Blood.

The gunner in the helicopter opened fire. Large caliber rounds pummeled the ground in a path that led straight to Esteban and hit with enough force to push the creature back. Esteban dropped to all fours, put his thick back to the NH-90 and stared at Adderson with pure white eyes. The moment he closed them, the helicopter started to wobble. Adderson once more heard screaming through the radio as the pilot’s humanity was peeled away to become the broken, knotted form of a Half Breed.

“Deploy explosives!” Adderson commanded on the open channel.

Esteban clenched his eyes shut even tighter, looking more on the verge of a climax than amid so much death. The soldier in charge of detonating the charges that had been meant to turn a group of Half Breeds and hopefully the Full Blood into pulp was turned before she could even acknowledge the order she’d been given.

“Now that I am so close to a fresher source, all I need to do is reach out to them,” Esteban said, “and they fall. The wretches can be controlled, and if not, at least they won’t become filthy cockroaches that sully the world with their machines.”

Another helicopter went down. The pilot of Raven Three swore he could recover, just before losing control of his limbs and taking a nosedive into the ground.

The Full Blood stalked toward Adderson. “Watch and tell the others what is happening here.”

“What makes you think they don’t know what’s happening?” Adderson asked while struggling to reload his assault rifle. “There’s no place to hide.”

“We are not hiding. And if you told the rest of your army how hopeless your battle truly was, you would have all found better places to run to. Perhaps a better message would be sent if you were to be found scattered across this field.”

Adderson slapped another magazine into the AK and chambered the first round. “The more you kill, the harder we’ll come after you.”

“No,” Esteban growled as he rose up to stand well over seven feet tall. “Not you.”

Adderson tightened his grip on his rifle and steeled himself for one last burst. If he was going to be sent to hell, he wasn’t about to go without doing some damage. Esteban lunged at him with speed that was a surprise even for someone who’d been monitoring Class One movements for months. He barely had enough time to squeeze his trigger, and when his shots cracked through the air, they hit nothing.

A split second before the first bullet sped down Adderson’s barrel, something else plowed into Esteban’s side. All Adderson could see was a dark blur intersecting another blur. A gust of wind blew across his face and the earth rumbled beneath him. When the rumbling stopped, something other than the Full Blood was within his line of fire. Standing between him and the hulking beast that had been ready to kill him was a third, smaller creature with light brown fur and a more compact frame. Adderson was still trying to pick his target when the smaller of the two creatures that had just appeared looked to him and snarled, “Run!”

There was only one helicopter and a fraction of his men left, so Adderson took the creature’s advice. Along the way he keyed the long range radio and prayed that some of the equipment in one of the helicopters was still working. “We need that air strike now!”

“Negative, Major,” the voice on the other end replied. “F-18s are RTB.”

“Why are they returning to base? Who the fuck is this?”

When the voice responded, it was too tired to bother with official protocols. “They made three passes on two separate targets, Major. That’s three apiece. Each time, the shifters scattered before the bombs hit the ground. Pilots say the packs were scattered even before they fired a shot. Analysts think they knew they were coming.”

“What? Are you telling me those things have spies informing them of our movements? They’re fucking animals!”

“Not spies, sir. Looks like they saw the planes coming. Maybe smelled them. Either way, all the planes did was burn civilian structures and run up collateral damages. They’re RTB until we can figure something else out. Do you need transpo to get you out of there?”

Steeling himself while surveying what was left of his men, Adderson said, “Negative. We’re staying.”

Since the human could barely move at a snail’s pace, the Mongrel put herself between Adderson and Esteban. She was a lean feline with more bulk than normally found on others of her breed. The ground shifted as diggers burrowed to get a good position around the Full Blood. Esteban had dealt with Mongrels before, but was more intrigued by the tall man who stood beside the Mongrel.

“I heard the reptiles had emerged from their swamps, but hadn’t seen any for myself,” Esteban said. “Your kind have been hiding for so long, I’ve forgotten your scent.”

“Good for us,” Frank replied. His pants were cut from the same material as those worn by the IRD soldiers, but his chest was covered only partially by a harness that held two pistols, a knife, and a few other pieces of equipment.

“So you come out of hiding for this?” Esteban mused. “To protect a bunch of humans who are already dead?”

“They’re not dead,” he told him with absolute certainty. “Won’t be dead today.”

“If not today, then tomorrow.”

Esteban moved slowly as soldiers continued to scream and thrash around him. The first ones to drop were already climbing onto wobbly legs and yawning to stretch newly weaponized jaws. “If you don’t wish to die along with this Mongrel trash, then step aside and be dealt with when the fight is over. I’d say it won’t take long for that day to come.”

“There have been others saying similar things. We won’t allow this to continue. My people, the Mongrels, the humans, we will all stand against you. Things need to go back to the way they were.”

“Oh child,” he said through a wide, horrific grin. “It’s far too late to hope for that. Now that the Torva’ox is flowing, getting rid of you is the only way the rest of us will get what’s rightfully ours.” With that, Esteban jumped. He stretched out both front paws and opened his mouth as a wild sheen glinted within his milky white eyes.

The Mongrel tried to jump at him as well, but was intercepted before leaving the ground. Esteban was double her weight, and all of that muscle was put to use once she was wrapped up in his embrace and rolling on the ground with him snapping at her face, neck, and shoulders. Her instincts took over then and soon she was returning his attacks in kind. Once they both got their claws involved, the blood started to fly, until both creatures broke away and began pacing around each other.

“The war has already begun,” Esteban said. “What good do you think you can do now, apart from drawing the ire of those who could be your greatest allies?”

Rather than try to respond using a mouth filled with blood, the Mongrel curled her lips up in a fierce, protective snarl.

“The Nymar staked their claim,” the Full Blood said, “and if we don’t take what’s ours, there will be nothing left. Those humans you cherish,” he added while pivoting to bat Frank aside as the Squam lunged at him. “Do you think they will show their gratitude for what you do here by granting you immunity when the next armed attacks come? Do you think the Skinners will allow you to live peacefully in your swamps with whatever is left of your family?”

The Mongrel’s teeth were not only bared, but elongated, as her snarl became a wild, rasping groan.

“Ahhh,” Esteban mused. “So there is not much left of your family. A regrettable certainty among our kind, I’m afraid. They would have died off soon enough no matter what you did to try and save them. Just like these humans here. And since we now see that humans are the only thing preventing us from fully absorbing the Torva’ox, we must put them out of our way. It is the nature of things. The cream will always rise. These loud, filthy creatures and their machines were simply too stupid or too arrogant to realize they’re not the cream.”

Frank had been using every one of his senses to pick the opportune moment to strike. He could hear, see, even smell the overconfidence within Esteban as he spoke. And when it seemed the Full Blood had regarded him as nothing more than one of the insects to which he’d referred, Frank launched his next attack.

The werewolf made no move to avoid him. He stood his ground, watching him and the Mongrel carefully as clawed hands reached up from beneath the ground to grab his legs. The IRD soldiers who’d been broken had already turned to attack their former comrades, leaving the Full Blood to deal with Frank and the Mongrels. Now that they’d snagged Esteban, the diggers emerged to grab any part of him they could, and when the Full Blood’s limbs were ensnared, Frank and the feline Mongrel charged. The Mongrel darted straight at Esteban while Frank leapt high to throw himself at and quickly through the massive werewolf.

When he passed through the space that Esteban had occupied, Frank felt a chill move in a wave through his body. Unlike the winter chill that barely made it through his scaly flesh, this was a cold that seeped all the way down to the bone. But it was more than a change in temperature. There was something insinuating the cold upon him like a thousand little needles injecting it directly into his core. Beside him, the Mongrel seemed equally confused as she landed and was thrown off her feet by her long tail.

Esteban flung her through the air and turned toward Frank. “I have taken the form that had been all but forgotten by our kind. I have mastered not only changing my shape, but shifting between form and shadow. The few weapons that could kill a Full Blood will now pass through me just as you did. Just as I passed through the stone shell the Skinners used to take Minh prisoner. Flee now or take your chances with these humans once they eventually take you prisoner as well. They are getting stronger and will eventually find a way to bring the fighting to a level that will make this world uninhabitable. Although,” he added while glancing around at the field, now filled with wreckage, charred mounds of dirt, and milling Half Breeds, “today brings only death.”

Frank launched a flurry of attacks while the few remaining soldiers piled into the last helicopter. His claws either scraped against a body that was almost as solid as steel or passed completely though a form with less substance than a memory. After brushing him aside with a few clubbing swings, Esteban clamped his jaws around a Mongrel that had reached up to grab him from underground and tore a large piece of the digger off, to be spat out. Then he calmly walked toward the Half Breeds that had clustered reflexively out of striking distance.

“There is much to do,” he announced casually. “I have heard Cecile’s cry, which means she has finally broken free. Perhaps she will be more open to the truth than you.”

The Mongrel struggled to stand as she shifted into a mostly human form. Now a woman somewhere in her early forties, she enclosed her arms around herself more as a way to stanch the flow of blood from her wounds than to try to cover her naked body. “It’s not supposed to happen like this,” she said. “I know the Full Bloods and Mongrels have never fared well together, but now is a time we can hold a council or—”

“Council?” Esteban snapped. “Why would I care what you or any of these others have to say? I would rather tear the face of this world apart than bargain with the likes of you.”

“What about Randolph Standing Bear?”

That name stopped Esteban in his tracks. When some of the Half Breeds began approaching him, he warned them off with a brutish snarl that sent them scattering, to nip at each and establish a crude pecking order within the newly formed pack.

“Randolph has not been seen since . . .” Esteban’s voice trailed off as a slow breeze brought new scents to his nose. “But I know now that he has recently returned. And he’s found the trickster. Do you expect me to believe he’s suddenly overcome his distaste for your kind?”

“If he’s still with Kawosa, he’s not striking any deals,” she told him with absolute certainty. “He is scheming while this war rages. At a time like this, someone like that is the most dangerous of all.”

Esteban took another slow sample from the air and frowned his disapproval. The helicopter blades of the last remaining AH-90 roared to a crescendo as the steel bird rose. “You can do nothing against me, child,” he said. “Best for you to find a place to hide or think of the best way to please me before it’s worth my time to end your life.” And then he broke into a run. The howl that exploded from his throat caught the attention of every Half Breed, a churning mass of bodies in his wake as they all ran for the nearby city.

The remaining Mongrels bolted after Esteban, leaving Frank alone with the dead and dying in that field. He reached down for a nylon belt clipped around his waist, removed a phone from a small pack and found he’d gotten a call. After pressing one of the preset speed dials, he was quickly connected to a familiar voice.

“Cole,” Frank said. “It’s me.”

“Where are you? Did you find any Mongrels to help Adderson?”

“Caught up with them outside of Shreveport, Louisiana. So did Esteban and a whole lot of Half Breeds.”

“How many Half Breeds?”

Looking around at the carnage, he told him, “I don’t know, but after Esteban howled at these soldiers, there were a whole lot more. Now they’re all running into the city.”

“Can you do anything about it?” Cole asked.

“We tried to stop Esteban, but he found a way to turn into a ghost, and I don’t think I or the Mongrels will be able to touch him.”

“Wait . . . what?” Cole stammered.

Frank explained what happened in quick, choppy sentences while jogging toward the city. Even after he was finished, Cole still seemed confused. Then again, in the time he’d known the Skinner, Cole seemed like that a lot. “Just ask your Skinner friends about Full Bloods being able to pass into shadow. That’s what he called it. What aren’t you telling me about him?”

“You think I’m hiding anything from you?” Cole asked.

“About Esteban,” Frank said in a snarl that surprised even him as it rumbled out of his throat. “You told me plenty about Randolph Standing Bear and Liam and even something about the female, Minh. Add the young Full Blood you and Jessup met in New Mexico . . .”

“Cecile,” Cole said with a regretful tone in his voice.

“Right. It seems you and Paige know a lot of these Full Bloods on a first name basis. Why is it you haven’t told me much of anything about Esteban?”

When Cole responded to that, his voice was more grating and intense, as if he was practically chewing on his phone: “Because we know next to nothing about him, that’s why!”

“He was the one at that prison where you, me, and Lambert were being held,” Frank offered.

“I remember.” Cole pulled in a deep breath and let it out. “From what you’ve told me, it sounds like Esteban said more to you a few minutes ago than he has to anyone else. He’s not like the other Full Bloods. He’s not making demands or finding one of us to threaten. Liam, Randolph, even Henry hunted us down, but this one just wants to kill. He didn’t say anything to us when he showed up in Colorado.”

“He was there for whatever was being held beneath that prison,” Frank said. “And judging by his newfound ability, he found it.”

“I don’t know about all of them, but Esteban and any shapeshifters following him are way past the stage of calling us out or forcing us to hand anything over. They want us dead. Plain and simple.”

“Have you learned something along those lines?”

“Yeah,” Cole said. “It’s too much to get into now, but the Full Bloods just want to wipe us out because they’re sick of sharing space with us and they don’t need to bargain or explain a damn thing to anyone else.”

Frank’s tan and yellow scales flattened against his face, and his creamy yellow eyes fixed upon the distant cityscape. “I’m going to see what I can do in Shreveport.”

“Thanks, Frank. Whatever you can do to help will go a long way.”

“Just make sure I’m not here on my own for long.” With that, he hung up, stuffed the phone into his pack and broke into a run to make up for lost time.