Nicholas Smith - Extinction Age

“Hold,” Beckham whispered. He paused to listen as a second hollow noise sounded.

“Where’s it coming from?” Horn asked.

Beckham turned and focused on the rock tunnel leading from the power plant. The sound of crashing mechanical equipment coupled with the shattering of glass exploded from the entrance. The Variants had found a way into the plant.

“Run,” Beckham said. “Everyone run, NOW!”

Horn was already moving, his boots pounding the metal. The civilians surged forward, and Beckham focused on the entrance to the reservoir ahead. It was only a few minutes away, but as the shrieks grew louder, he wasn’t sure they had enough time to get there.

The walkway suddenly shook violently, throwing Beckham off balance. He looked over his shoulder to see Variants streaming out of the tunnel and onto the catwalk. One of them tumbled over the railing and plummeted to the water below. There was a splash and the heavy crack of gunshots.

Lombardi had stopped to lay down covering fire. Blasts from his shotgun sent three more of the creatures spinning over the side and into the water, but others quickly took their place. The Variants pushed and clawed their way onto the platform. Within seconds the metal groaned under the weight of two dozen of them.

Mikesell halted and then ran back to join Lombardi. They fired side by side as the monsters advanced. A second soldier from Alpha fell into line behind them.

“Fall back!” Beckham screamed. He stood his ground as Ted raced past him. Chow rushed by, half dragging Sawyer. They staggered down the walkway, Chow’s M4 clanking on the side of the railing.

Lombardi and Mikesell continued to lay down covering fire as they backpedaled. The shots pierced the flesh of the Variants in front, splattering those in the back with blood from the exit wounds. The injured creatures dropped and vanished in the stampede of diseased skin. A few in front skittered up the wall to avoid the shots.

“Take out the climbers!” Beckham shouted as the final civilian passed him and ran after Horn and the others. He caught a glimpse of the well dressed woman he’d noticed in the power plant. There was something about the way she carried herself that made her stand out. Not military, but maybe an important government official. Beckham shouldered his rifle. If he hesitated another blink, they were all as good as dead.

Steady, Reed. Steady.

He stilled his breathing, planted his boots, and fired at the monsters clambering over the walls. The rounds bit into rock and punched through lean muscle. Two of the creatures skidded down, clawing and squawking. They crashed to the catwalk, and the remaining Variants trampled the life from the injured creatures.

Lombardi fired on a second wave that had taken to the walls while Mikesell and his squad-mate worked on the mob rushing toward them. Bullets thinned those out in front, but the tidal wave pouring from the tunnel seemed endless. The catwalk whined and sagged beneath their weight.

“Get out of—” Beckham began to shout. He was cut off by a metallic crack as an entire section of catwalk broke off. The Variants and the three Medical Corps soldiers plummeted into the water with it. The men screamed as they dropped into the lake with the shrieking monsters.

Beckham dropped to his knees at the edge of the walkway and peered over the side into the churning blue-green water.

Two of the men never surfaced, but Mikesell thrashed over to the wall. He dragged his fingernails frantically across the rock, trying to climb up.

Beckham looked for something to throw down to him, but it was already too late. The sergeant let out a shrill scream as the Variants pulled him under. Frothy red bubbles churned the water as the monsters tore him apart.

Beckham closed his eyes for a split second, muttering something that was halfway between a prayer and curse. When he snapped them back open, he saw Lombardi had finally surfaced and was swimming away from the pack of Variants.

“Get to the other side!” Beckham shouted. The crack of gunfire rang out behind him as he rose to his feet. Chow had handed Sawyer off to Horn and was now firing at the Variants spilling from the tunnel directly to the walls. They didn’t need a walkway to get to their prey.

“Got to move, man!” Chow yelled.

Beckham raised his rifle and fired as they retreated. Three of the creatures lost their grip and crashed into the water. After clearing several more from the walls, Beckham turned and bolted after Horn and the civilians.

He looked over the side of the railing as he ran. Lombardi was swimming like a madman, his strokes deep and fast, but the Variants were gaining. They used their legs to glide smoothly under the surface.

Lombardi flung a glance over his shoulder in between breaths and then stopped to tread water. He peered up at Beckham, his eyes wide and panicky—the terrified look of a man who hadn’t accepted his fate.

“No!” Beckham shouted as Lombardi vanished under the surface.

Chow tugged on Beckham’s flak jacket. “Nothing we can do for him! Come on!”

Beckham resisted, his eyes still locked on the bubbling surface.

“Now, god dammit!”

Beckham let Chow pull him away from the railing, and they sprinted across the final stretch of walkway. The group was waiting at a pair of doors leading to the inner roadway.

“Where are the others?” Horn asked.

Beckham shook his head. There was no time to hesitate or explain. They had to continue to the roadway regardless of what was waiting for them outside.

“Let’s go!” Beckham said. He shoved his way through the terrified civilians and waited impatiently while Ted fumbled with his keys. The engineer finally pulled the door open, and Horn hurried through first. The crack of his gun sounded as soon as he entered the tunnel.

Beckham could see the Variants to the east. Most of them were still working their way into the West Power Plant. He whirled and looked to the west tunnel leading to the A and B portals that Alpha team had used during insertion. That’s where Beckham had planned to escape, but it was a long hike. They would never outrun the creatures unless he bought them some time.

Beckham pulled his spent mag out and jammed another into his rifle. “Horn, on me! Chow, you go west with the others,” he yelled over Horn’s gunfire. “I’m going for the truck!”

The civilians hesitated, and Beckham bellowed, “GO!”

In the next instant, Beckham was running toward the Humvee. He picked off the Variants closest to the truck in mid-stride. His internal processor kicked into overdrive. He nailed headshot after headshot, plastering the walls and floor with gore.

It took Beckham thirty seconds to reach the truck. He flung his rifle over his back and pulled his pistol as he approached the driver’s side. An emaciated male Variant perched on the hood snarled at him and narrowed its yellow eyes on Beckham’s neck. Everything froze in that moment. It was like his world had been placed under a microscope. He could detect the smallest details, from the drops of sweat on the monster’s face to the blood on the tips of its brown, jagged teeth. Beckham could even smell the rancid scent of rotting fruit radiating off the thing’s filthy skin.

Beckham strode forward and executed the Variant with a shot to the temple. Its limp body slid off the hood and onto the ground. Beckham stepped over it, opened the door, and jumped inside. Horn shredded three more of the Variants before he climbed into the backseat.

“Let’s roll!” Horn shouted.

“Get in the turret,” Beckham yelled back. He put the truck into reverse and stomped the gas. The vehicle jerked backward, the tires crunching over corpses. A moment later, the mechanical whine of the M260 filled the cabin with the reassuring sound of 7.62mm rounds.