Nicholas Smith - Extinction Age

“Keep sharp,” he said.

“Sorry,” Chow replied. He gently smacked the side of his helmet and centered his gun on the hallway.

Beckham flung a glance over his shoulder. The pickup was almost loaded. He pushed the mini-mike back to his lips to try Horn on the comm. He wasn’t far, but Beckham didn’t want to leave his post.

“Charlie 2, you copy? Over,” Beckham said.

“Roger, Boss.”

“Take Charlie 4 with you on the first load, leave the pickup, and return with another vehicle. There were plenty outside.”

“Copy that,” Horn said. He emerged from the warehouse a moment later, his tattooed arms flexing under the weight of three boxes. After laying them into the bed of the truck, he popped a thumbs up and climbed into the cab. Lombardi jumped in the passenger side.

The diesel engine coughed to life, and the sound of human engineering filled the tunnel for the first time on their mission. Despite the reassuring noise, Beckham felt his gut tighten. The narrow tunnels carried sound like a gong in a temple.

Horn maneuvered the truck around a forklift and then pulled away. Valentine’s team continued stacking boxes outside the entrance to the cavern. Things were going smoothly.

Too smoothly.

That meant shit was about to happen, Beckham could feel it in his bones. As he turned back to the south and raised his rifle, the pain from the stitches lanced down his arm.

For fifteen minutes, Beckham and Chow waited there in silence. Beckham endured the burn of his injury as he stood with his shoulders squared. By the time Horn returned with a new truck, Beckham’s M4 was trembling in his hands and perspiration was cascading down his forehead.

“Crates are secure,” Valentine said. He set a final box at the entrance to the warehouse as Horn sped down the corridor in an early 90s Dodge Ram coated with rust. The clanking of metal sent Beckham’s heart beating out of control. It was way too fucking loud. He strained to listen over the mechanical chatter and pivoted back to the south. Chow was sweeping his rifle over the shadows, waiting, watching.

Horn parked the Ram outside of the warehouse and shut off the engine. A sharp popping instantly followed. At first, Beckham thought it was the muffler, but the second crack confirmed this wasn’t the mechanical failure of the Ram—it was gunfire. A flurry of the cracks rang out in the distance. Beckham’s heart rate escalated with every shot.

Chow looked around wildly. “Where’s it coming from?”

“Load the truck!” Beckham shouted. “Lombardi, on me. Horn, you too.” They formed a human wall, their weapons angled to the south where the majority of the shots seemed to be reverberating.

He had a decision to make: provide support to Alpha or retreat with the drugs? Without having any way of contacting Mikesell, he couldn’t know how bad things were or if they could even help.

Beckham looked from the southern tunnel to the truck. Once it was loaded, he felt the burn of eyes on him. With a heavy heart, he made his decision. The drugs were the most important part of the mission. Mikesell and Alpha were on their own.

“Move out,” Beckham said.

“Wait!” Chow said. “What’s that?” He trained his weapon on a vehicle zipping down the tunnel to the south. Beams from its headlights caught Beckham in the face. He shielded his eyes as a Humvee came screeching to a stop a few hundred feet away.

Beckham raised his gun and zoomed in on the bloody face of a Medical Corps soldier in black fatigues who stumbled out of the truck. Weaponless, the man waved his arms frantically and screamed for help.

The Dodge Ram crackled to life behind them, and Beckham glanced over his shoulder to see Valentine in the driver’s seat. The rest of his men were piling into the truck.

“Let’s go!” Valentine shouted.

Beckham turned back to the Humvee. The soldier from Mikesell’s team collapsed in front of the truck and then pushed himself to his feet, screaming, “We need help! We found survivors, but the Variants are everywhere!”

Beckham closed his eyes for a brief second, his mind shifting from thoughts of Kate to everyone else on Plum Island. They needed him there, but so did the survivors trapped down here. He wasn’t going to leave soldiers or civilians behind. Not if he could help. He couldn’t abandon anyone.

“I’ll go. You guys get the fuck out of here,” Beckham said.

“Like hell,” Chow said.

“Not leaving you, Boss,” Horn said with a snort.

Lombardi looked at the staggering soldier and then back at Beckham. “I’m with you.”

Beckham turned to the loaded truck. “Valentine, get the drugs to the choppers! Tell Echo 2 and Echo 3 to stand by for our extraction!”

Valentine held his gaze for the briefest of seconds and then nodded. The wheels of the Ram screamed, masking the distant gunfire as Valentine peeled away. By the time Beckham turned back to the tunnel, his team was already running for the Humvee.

Ellis sat on the stoop of Building 1, his head in his hands.

“How are you feeling?” Kate asked, taking a seat next to him.

“Did I ever tell you I’m a hypochondriac?”

Kate smiled. “It’s remarkable you became a doctor in this field, you know that? You’re afraid of needles and diseases.”

Ellis cracked a half grin. “That’s what my mom said!” His smile disappeared when he grabbed his stomach. “Feeling a bit sick, not going to lie.”

Kate checked her watch. It had been a little over an hour since she had injected Ellis with Kryptonite. Nausea was the one side effect she had planned for. She was feeling some of that herself, but mostly because she was worried sick. Beckham and the others would have landed at Raven Rock now. Operation Extinction was well underway.

“Do you feel anything else?” Kate asked.

Ellis shook his head. “Nope, just sick to my stomach.”

“Hey, Doc!” came a voice.

Kate raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Riley and Meg were making their way down the pathway. “Good job, Meg. You’re doing great,” Riley said as she hopped along on her crutches, keeping pace with him. Kate felt a mixture of sadness and happiness at the sight. While she was pleased to see the two together, it made her miss Beckham even more.

Riley stopped and locked his wheels at the bottom of the steps. He twisted in his chair to look in all directions. Then he waved Kate and Ellis down the steps.

“Everything going okay?” Riley asked. “Those Medical Corps soldiers giving you any problems? I’ve had my eye on them.”

Kate flung a quick glance over her shoulder. Cooper and Berg were chatting inside the lobby of Building 1. She could see their smug faces through the windows.

“Everything’s fine for now,” she said.

“You’d let me know if they gave you any trouble right, Kate?” Riley said.

She nodded and changed the subject. “You hear any updates about Operation Extinction yet?”

“You mean about Beckham?” Riley said, grinning. He shook his head. “Nah. Probably won’t hear shit for a while.” He shifted his gaze to Ellis. “What’s wrong with you, Doc?”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Ellis said. He grimaced as his gut made a complicated sound that Kate could hear from where she stood.

“We better get you some anti-nausea meds,” Kate said. “Come on.”

“Wait,” Meg said. She hopped closer to the stairs and searched Kate’s eyes like she was about to ask the most important question in the world.

“The weapon you made,” Meg said. “Is it really going to work?”

Kate reached down to help Ellis up and said, “We sure hope so.”