Extinction Age

-8-

The clouds vanished as afternoon turned into evening. A carpet of blue stretched across the seemingly infinite sky. Warm, radiant rays sparkled over the waves below. The view was hypnotizing, and Fitz had a hard time leaving his guard post when his shift was up. If it weren’t for Lieutenant Colonel Jensen’s sharp voice barking in his headset, he would have kept staring.

“Fitz, report to command, ASAP,” Jensen said.

“Roger that, sir,” Fitz replied. He scoped the north with his MK11 one last time, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Truxtun, but only saw the vast blue of calm waters.

Fitz turned away from the view when he thought he heard a distant scream come from the sea. Imagined or real, it was time to get moving. He gritted his teeth and climbed the skeletal ladder to the beach. Each rung put pressure on his thighs, the muscles burning with every step. When he reached the bottom, he bent down to rub them and check his prosthetics. As he examined the carbon fiber blades, the voices of his fellow amputees back at Bragg came up from memory. They’d called each other Flex-Foot Cheetah and Blade Runner. Both were nicknames he’d never liked much. The legs didn’t define him; they only helped him get from point A to B, like a car. And he didn’t label his friends by what they drove.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a swipe of his palm and crouched down for a better look. There was a small dent on the right blade just above the curve. He reckoned it was the result of his fall the night before. A dark streak of blood that he couldn’t seem to wash off had settled in the indentation.

Fitz threw the strap of his rifle over his back. He stretched for several minutes by reaching down to his blades. When his muscles felt fresh, he took off running toward Building 1. Four soldiers were jogging across the concrete path ahead. He couldn’t help but wonder if Jensen was cooking something up. When he saw Beckham, Fitz knew the answer. Something was definitely happening.

So much for a nap, shower, and a shit.

“Master Sergeant!” he yelled.

Beckham halted at the base of the stairway to the command building while the other men continued inside. The operator’s face lit up the moment he laid eyes on Fitz.

“Fitz, good to see you,” Beckham said. He looked him up and down. “You look like hell, Marine.”

“Clearly you haven’t looked in a mirror lately,” Fitz replied with a chuckle.

They shook hands and fell quiet, the somber mood of the day taking over. Beckham looked away for a moment. Fitz could see the pain of a memory surfacing on Beckham’s mind. It was evident in his posture and critical stare.

“Sorry to hear about Jinx,” Fitz said.

“He was a good man,” Beckham replied.

Fitz didn’t know what to say, so he simply nodded and tried to stand as tall as he could despite the pain in his thighs and knees.

“Glad I caught you before going inside,” Beckham said. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you yet for saving the day here.”

Fitz grimaced and shook his head. “Man, you don’t need to thank me. I did what anyone else would have done.”

“No,” Beckham said sternly. “Most men would have run the other way in your situation.”

Fitz considered that as he glanced at the blue sky. He was a Marine, which meant he was trained to run toward a fight, not away from it. But Beckham was still right; Fitz had known men who had cowered in the face of evil. The Variants were more awful than any enemy he’d faced in Iraq—that was for damn sure.

“Just doing my duty,” Fitz finally said. He bowed his head slightly like he was tipping his hat. Beckham grinned and patted him on the shoulder.

“Anyway, thanks. Your reward is a new mission that I volunteered you for. Hope you don’t mind,” Beckham said. His grin faded away and his features hardened like a light switch had been flipped.

Fitz adjusted the strap of his rifle on his shoulder. “Depends on what it is,” he said.

“We’re about to find out.”

Fitz looked up at the double doors and then back at Beckham. “Let’s get on with it then.”

The command center was packed by the time they got there. Jensen and Smith stood at the head of the war table. Rodriguez, a short Hispanic Marine, sat across the other side, his wide shoulders bent over a map. To his right was Timbo, his dark muscular arms crossed as he waited. Peters, another Marine with the build of a long distance runner, sat across from Timbo. The thin man was staring out the window with an absent look on his face. Peters was a bit of a space cadet, and Fitz wasn’t sure if he liked him or not.

Jensen looked up from the maps when the door closed behind Fitz.

“Beckham, Fitz, take a seat,” he said.

Fitz plopped down on one of the cushioned chairs. His body greedily accepted the rest. He worked a knot in his thigh with the tip of his thumb, keeping one eye on Jensen.

“Gentleman, I know you’re all tired from New York. I’d love to let you sleep for a few days. Problem is, I spoke with General Kennor this morning and our request for a re-supply was denied. We lost more than bodies last night. We lost precious ammunition, and our food reserves are dangerously low. Fortunately, the biggest treasure chest of food, gasoline, ammo, and gear just showed up practically on our doorstep,” Jensen said. He paused to let the words sink in.

Fitz wanted to shake his head when he saw where the conversation was going.

“As of 1600, the shoreline and adjacent area was Variant free. I’m not sure how long we can count on that,” Jensen continued. “If we’re going to make a move, we need to do it tonight.”

“We haven’t even buried our dead yet,” Timbo said.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have time to mourn right now… or rest,” Smith said. “We need to think of the living.”

“He’s right,” Beckham added. “We’ve all seen how bad things are in NYC. The cities have fallen. Outposts like this island are the end of the line. We need to build something here. Something sustainable. And that’s going to require taking risks.”

“Boarding that destroyer is one hell of a risk,” Fitz said. “We don’t know anything about it. Have we heard anything from them at all?”

Major Smith frowned and tapped his pen on the table. “We’ve been flying recon for several hours. They haven’t seen any movement. All hails have gone unanswered. Doesn’t look like anyone’s on board. I checked with Central, and the ship went dark several days ago.”

“And it just happened to shoot right by the island?” Timbo grumbled.

“Do you know how many ships are drifting out there?” Jensen said, his tone growing frustrated. “Thousands.”

Fitz raised a brow. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. There could be a hundred Variants below decks.”

“That’s why I’m sending in our best,” Jensen said. “We’ll proceed with caution. We see any sign of the creatures, we get the hell out of Dodge.”

Fitz shook his head this time. Jensen ignored him and said, “I’ll take strike team Alpha with Timbo and Rodriguez. Beckham, you got Bravo with Fitz and Peters.”

“I’m going!” shouted a voice from the doorway.

The soldiers all spun. Chow was standing in the door, decked out with a flak jacket bulging with extra magazines. He cupped a helmet with ‘four-eye’ night vision optics under his left arm. Strands of jet-black hair hung over his forehead, partially covering his right eye. Jensen was pitching the mission as a salvage op, but Chow looked like he was heading to war.

“Give us a moment,” Beckham said to Jensen.

Beckham jogged over to Chow and they exchanged a few hushed words that Fitz couldn’t make out. Chow took a step back, glared at Beckham like he was about to punch him, and then finally nodded. They walked back to the table in silence.

“Chow’s with me,” was all Beckham said.

Fitz could smell the pressure of this mission. It was the stink of sweat, blood, and fear. Everyone in the tiny command center had been through so much. Hell, Fitz still hadn’t taken a proper shower, and he’d hardly slept a wink for nearly twenty-four hours. He was having a hard time holding his tongue.

Jensen broke the silence. “Echo 1 will drop Alpha on the bow. Bravo will be dropped on the stern. Alpha will clear the CIC first while Bravo works on clearing the compartments below decks. Any questions?”

No one replied and Jensen looked at his wristwatch. “All right. You have two hours to snag some shut eye. We meet on the tarmac at 2100.” He took a minute to scan every face and then stood. “That’s all. Dismissed.”

Fitz groaned as he got up and followed the others out of the room. When he got outside, Beckham had already pulled Chow aside at the bottom of the steps. Fitz stepped into a cool breeze and took in a breath. The tension between the two operators gave him the jitters.

“Fitz, hold up,” Beckham said. “You too, Peters.”

When the Marines reached the bottom steps, they stopped and waited. Beckham massaged his shoulder.

“Are you up for this? If not, tell me. There’s no shame in sitting this out,” he said, shooting a glance at Chow. “If you’re in, you’re in for the mission as Lieutenant Colonel Jensen described it. That means no going rogue and trying to be a hero if we meet the enemy.”

“I’m good,” Peters said.

Beckham held the man’s eye for a beat. Peters gave a slight nod and crossed his chest with an arm, stretching the muscle by holding the elbow with his other hand. When he switched arms, Beckham returned Peters’ nod and turned to Chow.

“I’ll be fine,” Chow said. “Just want to get this over with and give Jinx a proper burial.”

Fitz was up next. He forced a half smile. “I’m with you.”

Beckham kept his eyes level with Chow’s gaze.

“Like I said, Beckham. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me,” Chow added.

Beckham nodded and clapped a hand on Chow’s shoulder. “All right, brother,” he said and then looked toward the tarmac. Sunlight flickered off the idle Blackhawks, the metal shimmering in the final moments of the day’s heat.

“Get some rest, if you can,” Beckham said. He pivoted away from the view and began the walk back to the barracks. That’s when Fitz saw the blood stain on the operator’s upper shoulder. Nobody had questioned whether Beckham was okay to go. Fitz was starting to wonder if someone should.

“Have you ever done this before?” Kate asked.

Ellis shook his helmet. “Can’t say that I have. Never been in a situation where I needed riot gear.”

Kate paused to scan her partner. Black armor bulwarked his chest and neck. He pulled on his leg and arm guards and then donned a helmet with a metal grill.

“I meant have you ever taken a bone marrow biopsy?”

Ellis bent down to lace up his boots. “Nope. Never done that either.”

Kate finished putting on her own gear and considered the task ahead. The definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and hoping for a different result. Every time they entered the facility where they kept the Variants was a risk. Flying them to the island had been a risk. But in order to save lives, they would need to continue to take risks. This time there was no one else to do it but Kate and Ellis.

She slipped the chest armor over her shirt just as the door to the small locker area in the armory opened. A tall Medical Corps soldier strolled inside. His face showed a racial mix that Kate couldn’t place. His olive skin could be Italian, but his green eyes were far from Eastern European.

“Doctors, I’m Sergeant Lombardi. Lieutenant Colonel Jensen requested that I help you with the test.”

Italian after all, Kate mused.

“Which one are we going to put down?” Lombardi asked. He continued across the room to a locker and inserted a key.

“The injured female Variant in Cell 3,” Kate said. “I want one that’s healing. The stem cells will be proliferating at an extraordinary rate.”

Lombardi nodded like he knew what she was saying. “Can’t put that one under though, Doc. The tranquilizer almost killed it the last time. Too damn weak right now. We were lucky to save it.” He opened the locker and pulled out a metal rod. Holding it firmly in his hand he said, “Not to worry. It will already be restrained by metal chains, and I’ll be bringing this.”

Ellis backed away from the oversized Taser. “Looks like it would just piss one of ‘em off to me.”

The sergeant shook his head and reached back into his locker. He removed his riot suit and began changing right in front of them.

Kate caught herself staring at the man’s tanned, well-muscled physique. Ellis was doing the exact same thing. He quickly glanced over to Kate and then at the ceiling like he didn’t know what to look at. She could see the color rising his face. She felt the heat of embarrassment in her own cheeks, but when Ellis’ nervous eyes darted back to Kate, she was smiling warmly. She’d always wondered why Ellis had never mentioned a girlfriend, and now she knew.

“Here’s the plan. I’ll go in first and zap the fucker in the face,” Lombardi said with one of his legs halfway into the padded suit. “Dr. Ellis and I will then tighten the chains so it won’t be able to move. That should give Dr. Lovato a chance to take a bone marrow sample.”

“Sounds like a pretty shitty plan to me, Sergeant,” Kate said. “No offense. We were watching last time you tried to sedate it.”

“Either of you got a better idea?”

Ellis looked at the Taser with narrowed eyes. “Not really. But I will take one of those.”

Lombardi grinned, revealing a bottom row of crooked white teeth. “I can arrange that.” He reached down and tossed the Taser to Ellis. Then he grabbed his armored vest and continued suiting up. He finished by pulling on an armored wrist piece that had teeth marks from an earlier attack.

There was something about Lombardi that made Kate nervous. He seemed sloppy. Inexperienced. Beckham would never have joked in such a situation. As the thought went through her mind, Kate realized that working with Beckham and his team had spoiled her. Not everyone was a Delta Force Operator, after all. Anxious to get started, she decided to let it slide.

Kate readied the biopsy needle and took in a breath. Nothing to it, she told herself. Insert the needle in the patient’s bone, remove the center of the needle, and move the hollowed needle deeper into the bone.

Only this wasn’t a normal patient. This was a monster.

Kate shivered inside her suit. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Follow me,” Lombardi said. He led them out of the armory and down the steps to the adjacent building. A patrol of soldiers passed, their tired eyes scanning the underbrush. They moved sluggishly, fatigue breaking them down with every step. They seemed to barely notice the three medical personnel in riot gear.

Lombardi opened the door when they got to Building 4 and gestured for her and Ellis to go inside. Kate’s skin prickled as soon as she entered the facility. She could almost hear the claws scratching across the ceiling and the popping joints of Patient 12—the Variant that had nearly killed her. The armored suit suddenly felt paper thin. She hesitated inside the lobby, peering down the hallway. Two soldiers patrolled the wing with assault rifles.

“Well, come on,” Lombardi said, waving them forward.

Ellis stopped and walked back to her. “You don’t have to do this, Kate. I’m sure Sergeant Lombardi and I can take care of it.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, I’m fine. You need me.”

“You sure?”

Kate brushed past Ellis, their armor scraping. “Okay then,” she heard him say as she walked toward Lombardi. The sergeant was already at Cell 3.

“Stay right outside this door,” Lombardi told the two guards. “If anything happens, you have permission to take the patient down.” He took a peek through the glass and then turned back to Kate and Ellis.

“Okay, remember the plan?” he asked.

“You Taser the fucker in the face,” Ellis said. “Then we tighten the restraints and Kate gets her sample.”

Lombardi gave a thumbs up and crouched next to his bag. He pulled a second Taser and unfolded it with a slap to the side of his leg. It extended into a two-foot long weapon.

“Follow me,” he said.

Kate fell into line behind the men. The sooner they got the sample, the sooner she could start working on another bioweapon.

Lombardi unlocked the door and pulled it open. The naked female Variant lay on its back. It twisted viciously against its restraints, rattling the chains over the ground. The monster’s lean muscles stretched and lines of blue veins stretched with them.

A screech followed as the creature homed in on the team with its single, yellow eye. The creature hunched, pushing its body up with its shoulders. Bandages on its shredded right leg leaked a pus-like yellow jelly, and the wound on its left arm bled freely.

Kate followed the men inside the room with one hand on Ellis’s shoulder and the other on the needle. Lombardi circled the monster, the tip of his Taser sliding across the floor.

The Variant twisted its head, whipping thin strands of blonde hair over pale translucent skin. It snarled and snapped at Lombardi’s foot. He parried the attack with his Taser and shocked it in the middle of its forehead.

A high-pitched howl erupted from the monster’s mouth. The sound intensified until it was so loud it hurt Kate’s ears. She dropped the needle and cupped her hands over her helmet.

Lombardi hesitated as the creature jerked on the ground. Then he bolted forward and shocked the Variant again. This time he hit it between its breasts. Saliva and blood exploded from its mouth, peppering his visor. The Variant sucked in several deep breaths, gasping to fill its lungs.

Now was their chance. Kate scooped up the needle and patted Ellis on the back. He was already moving to the right. Lombardi crouched down and tightened the chain on the Variant’s left arm and then its left leg. Ellis followed suit, and in a matter of seconds they had the monster stretched across the floor in an X shape. Both men prepared to strike with the Tasers.

“Come on!” Lombardi shouted.

Kate approached with a guarded half step. The creature snapped at her with jagged, broken teeth as she grabbed for its left arm.

Kate jerked backward. She felt her heart rise toward her throat, pounding so hard it threatened to jump out of her chest. The monster was studying her, and for a moment Kate saw a hint of fear, a fragment of humanity. It vanished when the thing chomped again, the fear giving way to rage.

“Move it, Doc!” Lombardi shouted.

Kate pulled off the plastic tip of the needle and grabbed the Variant’s arm again. This time she didn’t flinch as it clacked its teeth together.

She inserted the needle into the bone, removed the center, and moved the hollow needle deeper. The monster let out a low whine, the tone almost melancholy. Kate withdrew the needle, retreated to the wall, and placed the sample in a secure plastic box.

The Variant thrashed and screeched as Kate darted through the open door, past the soldiers, and down the hallway until she was at the entrance to the building. She didn’t even glance over her shoulder to see if Ellis and Lombardi were following. When she got outside, she placed the box carefully on the ground, pulled off her helmet, and took in a long breath of fresh evening air.

“Is that you, Kate?” came a voice below.

Kate brushed a curtain of hair from her face. Beckham stood on the walkway, looking up with a furrowed brow. He was decked out in combat armor, a rifle slung over his back.

“What the hell are you wearing that suit for?” Beckham asked.

She took a second to catch her breath and said, “I could ask you the same thing.”

He glanced down and then looked away. “I have to go back out there.”

Kate followed his gaze to the north, where the Truxtun had last been seen. It only took a second to realize where he was going.

“You said you were staying for a while,” she said.

“I have to, Kate, I’m sorry.” His eyes flicked to the box on the concrete landing. “What were you doing in there?”

Kate huffed. She wanted to hear something from him; an apology, an explanation, some display of emotion—anything but questions.

“Were you inside of one of those cells? With a Variant?” Beckham asked.

“Does it matter?”

“You put your life in jeopardy, Kate, without even telling me—and you’re going to lecture me?” He shook his head. “How about you do your job, and I’ll do mine. Things will work better for us that way.”

Kate’s heart ached. He was right, she should have told him. But he should have told her too.

“When were you going to tell me about your mission?” Kate asked, her voice softening.

“What do you think I was on my way to do right now?” He straightened his helmet with a tap of his hand, and turned to walk away.

“Don’t go, Reed. Please, don’t,” Kate said, walking down a single step.

“I can’t let my men go without me. I won’t,” Beckham corrected. “I won’t abandon them.”

“What about…” her voice trailed off and she searched his eyes for an answer. It wasn’t that Beckham didn’t care, Kate realized. The problem was that he cared too much.

“I’m sorry, Kate. I’ll be back in a few hours,” Beckham said. He offered a short nod and then hurried away.