Extinction Age

-7-

Kate held out her arms as Ellis zipped up the back of her suit. Five minutes had passed since the alarms had stopped screaming, but the sound was still reverberating in her ears.

“A destroyer?” Ellis asked. “With no one behind the wheel? How the hell does that make any sense?”

Kate frowned. “Does anything make sense anymore?” Mentally, she was beyond exhausted, but she needed her wits for what came next.

Kate was beginning to hate the lab. It was yet another reminder of what she’d created here. The other labs beyond the glass windows were dark. There were no scientists in CBR suits huddling around computer monitors in the other levels or robotic arms retrieving samples in the centrifuge. They’d lost most of their support staff in the attack, and the survivors had been given time to regroup. Kate and Ellis were the only ones determined—or crazy—enough to be here today.

“Not going to lie,” Ellis said, waving his badge over the security terminal. “I’m excited to get back to it. I’ve been thinking about another bioweapon and I have an idea.”

The glass doors whispered apart and Kate strolled past the empty lab stations. Banks of LED lights clicked on simultaneously and the room lit up with a clean, white glow. The absence of the other scientists chilled her even further in her already freezing suit.

“I have an idea, too,” Kate said after a long pause.

“You first,” Ellis said. He pulled a stool across the floor to her station.

Kate sat, keyed in her credentials, and moused over to a research paper she’d read earlier.

“What do we know about the Variants’ weaknesses?” Kate asked.

Ellis glanced up at her, his brow furrowed. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

“No. I’m being serious.”

He shrugged. “We know they’re sensitive to light. That’s about it.”

“That’s why I’ve been reading about optogenetics,” Kate said. She scooted her stool over and pointed at the PDF on screen. “Know anything about it?”

“Only what Wikipedia taught me,” he chuckled. “One of my old classmates worked in the field, and I didn’t want to sound like an idiot the last time we had dinner. I used my phone to look up the details in the cab ride across Manhattan.”

Kate would have laughed a month ago, but she didn’t feel much like laughing now. She forced a smile he probably couldn’t even see.

“I’m not an expert on it either, but I know that light has been used to control neural activity through genetic targeting. Before everything that’s happened, researchers made breakthroughs in controlling the behavior of animals—”

Ellis interrupted her by shaking his helmet. “You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you? You were the one who said the Variants aren’t animals we can control.”

“I’m not talking about controlling them. I’m talking about killing them,” Kate said, her voice cutting. She shifted her gaze from the computer to his eyes. “You don’t need to remind me what I’ve said in the past.”

He shied away, slouching half a degree in his chair. “Sorry.”

Kate was silent for a moment. There was so much going on in her head she was having a hard time keeping it straight. She pawed her visor in a futile attempt to rub her tired eyes, forgetting she even had her helmet on.

“The main problem is weaponizing it. Most of the applications require light-sensitive probes to be implanted in the brains of subjects,” she said.

“That’s not exactly an option.”

“No, but what if we could use the same concept to kill them? To exploit their weakness to light.”

Ellis frowned and said, “What’s the difference between shooting them with bullets or shooting them with some sort of light gun? Both require soldiers, and last I checked the world was running very short on those.”

Kate thought of Beckham. No matter what she designed, someone would have to test the weapon in the field. The idea of him risking his life out there again made her heart flutter.

“What’s your idea?” Kate asked. She turned away from her monitor, crossed her arms and waited.

“I’ve been so focused on the epigenetic changes the Variants are going through, I’ve neglected the obvious,” Ellis said, talking quickly and waving his hands. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this weeks ago. I was just so stuck on the—”

“Slow down,” Kate said.

“Right, sorry,” he replied after a pause. “Remember how the stem cells are proliferating at a rapid rate?”

“I do. They’re responsible for their healing capabilities, immune system health, and rapid transformation.” Kate tried to guess where he was going with this, but she was too exhausted to speculate. He didn’t wait for her questions anyway.

“Well, what if we isolate a sample of bone marrow stems cells from one of the Variants? We could run it through the HTS system and look for a protein that’s only expressed in the infected. Then we could develop antibodies that would target their stem cells and deliver something to knock them out,” he said. His voice carried a sense of awe. “It would only work on Variants, since the protein would be specific to them.”

Kate considered the idea. It wasn’t much different from what she had created with VX9H9. The bioweapon had worked on only those infected with the Hemorrhage virus. But this time whatever they ended up developing would need to kill every one of the creatures. There was no margin for error.

Ellis studied Kate for a reaction, his eyes bright behind his visor.

“So you think we should use a technology like targeted drug delivery?” Kate asked.

“Precisely,” Ellis said, nodding. “Think it might work?”

“Not sure,” Kate said. “But I like the idea.”

A childish grin broke across Ellis’s face that reminded Kate of her brother, Javier. It was the same smile he’d used to get out of countless scrapes when they were growing up. “First things first,” she said, forcing herself to focus on the present. “We need to start with the bone marrow stem cells.”

Kate turned to the exit of the lab.

“Where are you going?”

“To take a sample from a Variant,” she said. “Are you just going to sit there, or are you coming with me?”

Beckham awoke with a violent jerk. His breathing was heavy, his back drenched with sweat. The distant memory of a nightmare clung to his mind. He had been in the tunnels, plastered to a wall, unable to shoot the Variants crawling toward him. For a moment he was paralyzed by the shock of the powerful dream.

“Jesus, boss. Are you okay?” Horn sat on the adjacent bunk, his daughters on each side. Riley was in his wheelchair at the end of his bed.

“‘Bout time you got your ass up,” Riley said with the hint of a grin.

Beckham ran a hand through hair that needed trimming and looked at his watch. The slight movement of his shoulder sent pain racing across his battered chest.

“Fuck, I’ve been out a while,” he said, trying to hide the pain.

“Hey, little ears on deck here,” Horn said with a pointed look toward his daughters.

“Right. Sorry, Big Horn. And sorry, Tasha and Jenny,” Beckham said, nodding at each girl in turn.

“You’ve been out five hours,” Riley said. “If you don’t count the weirdness with the boat and the alarms. That woke us all up, but you fell right back asleep.”

Beckham scooted to the edge of his bed and scanned the mostly empty room. The other soldiers were on patrol, and the majority of the civilians had been issued rooms in Building 1. Horn and his girls had one of those, but they’d stuck around to sit with Beckham. Kate had offered him her bed, but he wanted to be with his men for now.

“Big Horn, you should take the girls to Building 1. Get settled in your new quarters,” Beckham said. He couldn’t mask the reluctance in his tone. Selfishly, he wanted them to stay. It felt too good to have them by his side. He wasn’t sure how long it would last, but for now they were a family again.

“Nah, we’re staying here for a while,” Horn said.

“Yeah,” Riley added. “Fu—I mean, the heck with that. I miss the barracks.”

At the far end of the room, Chow stood staring out the window, chewing on a toothpick like he always did when deep in thought. Beckham made a note to talk to the man later. Jinx had been Chow’s best friend. They had fought together for years, weathering the toughest of times in remote locations around the world. And now he was gone, another victim to Colonel Gibson’s dream of saving young GIs. The irony continued to sicken Beckham.

The double doors to the barracks swung open and Lieutenant Colonel Jensen strode inside, flanked by Major Smith.

“We have a situation,” Jensen said. As he stood in the doorway, he seemed taller, his shoulders broader. The officer had earned Beckham’s trust and respect. He was no longer looking at Gibson’s shadow—he was looking at an ethical leader he wouldn’t hesitate to follow back into battle. Beckham had a feeling he would have the opportunity sooner rather than later.

Beckham stood and rubbed his shoulder as Jensen approached. He bit back the urge to ask questions. Jensen was all military right now, clearly on a mission. Jensen stopped in the aisle separating the rows of bunks and looked at Beckham. They exchanged a short nod, and the look told Beckham that his feeling of respect was mutual.

“As you know, the USS Truxtun shot by the island at 1400. Normally I wouldn’t care since it didn’t run aground here. But…” Jensen glanced at Major Smith, who took over.

“The ship has crashed into the shore at Niantic, Connecticut,” he said, clapping his hands together. Tasha and Jenny giggled at that. Horn pulled them closer, wrapping his arms around their shoulders.

“I sent Echo 1 out for recon. Weird thing is, doesn’t look like anyone’s home. We haven’t seen a single body, either. All attempts to hail the crew have failed.” Smith continued.

“Not sure I understand the problem, sir,” Horn said. “What do we care?”

Jensen’s nostrils flared so big Beckham could see inside his nose. “Supplies,” Jensen said, resting his hands on his hips and taking a deep breath. “We’re running low. Ammunition, food—it’s all dwindling. The survivors from Bragg—and the attack on the island last night—put a dent in both stockpiles. Unfortunately, Command is stretched just as thin and General Kennor denied my request this morning for a resupply.”

Riley moved his chair, the wheels squeaking and drawing the attention of the entire team. “The attack also put a dent in the human supply count,” he said grimly.

“You’re right,” Jensen replied. He took a step forward, crossed his arms, and shifted the chew in his mouth to the other side. “But that doesn’t change our current supply situation. And I’m not sure we can count on Command for much longer. I’m thinking long term here, gentlemen, and it’s time to start accepting the obvious. We’re going to be on our own eventually.”

Jensen let the words hang in the air. Beckham could read the man like a book. He was doing what any leader would do in a crisis situation—he was preparing his men for the worst and hoping for the best. Beckham had done the same thing more times than he could count.

“I’m considering a mission to see what we can salvage from the ship. It’s safer than an expedition into the cities,” Jensen said. “The ship has run aground next to a sparsely populated area, and recon flights haven’t seen a single Variant.”

“I don’t like it,” Beckham said. He assumed the man had come to Ghost for volunteers. Beckham wasn’t going to hold back his opinion when his team’s lives were on the line.

“Me either,” Horn added. “Even if there aren’t any Variants on shore, there could be some on board. Maybe an entire ship of ‘em.”

“Or other hostiles,” Riley said.

Jensen regarded each man in turn. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve considered this, but I think the reward is worth the risk. I’m not going to order anyone to come with me. This is a strictly volunteer mission, but I was hoping you’d be in. I need two others. Peters, Rodriguez, and Timbo have already agreed.”

“I’m in,” came a determined voice.

Beckham didn’t need to turn to see it was Chow. The operator had turned away from the windows. His rigid posture and puffed chest painted the picture of a man who wanted revenge. It was a bad sign. That kind of attitude got men killed. Beckham had seen it many times. The worst had been on a mission in Fallujah. An insurgent sniper had taken out a Marine walking alongside a Humvee. The poor kid had been dead before the medic could pull him off the road. Instead of taking cover, two of his buddies had run into the open, guns blazing, bloodlust taking over. Three Marines were dead a minute later. By the time it was all over, the sniper had picked off half a fucking platoon.

He wasn’t going to let the same happen to Chow.

“You sit this one out,” Beckham said.

Chow flicked the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, glaring. “Hell no, man. I’m going.”

“No. You sit this out,” Beckham repeated. “You too, Horn.” He rubbed his shoulder again and then cracked his neck from side to side. “I’ll go,” he said. “I’ll bring Fitz, too, if he’s game. We could use him on this one.”

Beckham knew Jensen wanted another operator, but Fitz was good with a rifle. Damn good. He had saved Kate and countless others. He didn’t want to know what she would say about him leaving again, but this was a short mission. Hopefully, she would understand.

“That good enough?” Beckham asked. He locked eyes with Jensen and the officer nodded in a way that only two leaders would understand.

“Can I go?” Riley asked. His features were hard, and Beckham wondered if he was joking. Then he winked and cracked a half grin. Despite the kid’s good humor, the sight of Riley confined to the chair made Beckham want to punch a wall.

“Thanks,” Jensen said. “You guys get some rest. Master Sergeant Beckham, report to command at 1700.”

“Yes, sir,” Beckham replied.

Jensen and Smith left Team Ghost and Horn’s daughters in a companionable silence. The quiet was broken a few moments later by a brittle voice.

“You can’t save us all,” Chow said. “World doesn’t work like that, man. You don’t get to make decisions like this for me.” He hurried out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Give him time,” Horn said. “He just lost his best friend.”

Beckham nodded and took a seat on his bunk, the energy washing out of him. Chow was right. He couldn’t control a situation that had spiraled completely out of control. Panda, Tenor, Edwards, Jinx, Ryan, Valdez—Beckham hadn’t been able to save any of them. And by the time this war was over, Beckham had a feeling he was going to bury more of his brothers.

Or maybe they’d be the ones burying him.

Meg maneuvered her wheelchair through the doorway, using her palm to keep the door open. A soldier wheeling his own chair down the hall stopped to gawk at her. He ran a hand over his mop of wild hair as she struggled with the door.

“What the hell are you staring at?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Wondering when you’d ask for some help.”

She turned the wheel with her left hand and elbowed the door with her other arm. The metal swung open and then came back and hit her on the elbow before she could react. She bit back a whimper and glared at the soldier.

“You going to help me or what?” she said.

The man laughed and wheeled over. He held the door open so she could finally move into the hallway.

“Thanks,” she said listlessly.

He sat there, continuing to stare. Up close, she could see that his eyes were bright blue.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Meg asked. “Do I have something on my face, or what?”

He shook his head, grinned, and held out his hand. “I’m Staff Sergeant Alex Riley, but you can call me Riley. Or ‘kid’ is fine, too. That’s what my brothers call me.”

She regarded him with a raised brow, giving him a once over. His legs were both in casts, and his face was covered with the soft yellow of healing bruises.

“Meg,” she said, grabbing his hand reluctantly.

“Welcome to Plum Island. How’d you get here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Meg licked her dry lips. “Look, I’ve been bedridden all day. I’m tired, my legs are killing me, and I just want some fresh air. Can we skip my life story?”

“Sure,” Riley said. His eyes darted away to the window in the room behind her. “I’m here for a check-up, just thought I’d say hi.” He started wheeling away and said, “Nice to meet you, Meg.”

She sighed and watched him go. When he was halfway down the hall, she said, “I was rescued from New York.”

He twisted around and looked at her for a moment. “Beckham found you, didn’t he?”

Meg remembered the name. “Yeah,” Meg said, wheeling after Riley. “Yeah, he did. Do you know him? I want to thank him.”

Riley smiled so big his dimples nearly went all the way to his ears. “He’s my team leader.”

“Can you take me to him?”

“You aren’t going anywhere!” a female shouted.

Meg looked over Riley’s shoulder to see the hospital’s only nurse running down the hall. Dr. Hill was right behind her.

“What on earth are you doing?” the doctor asked.

“I was about to get some fresh air…” Meg began to say.

“You need to rest, Meg. Rest and heal,” Hill said.

She glanced back at Riley and he winked at her.

“You can’t see Beckham right now, anyway,” Riley said.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s about to leave for another mission.”

“He just got back,” Meg said, shocked.

“He’s Delta Force—and even if he wasn’t, that’s just how he is,” Riley said. “He won’t rest until there are no more missions.”