Nicholas Smith - Extinction Age

Beckham threw the Humvee into drive, and it lurched forward. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and sped after the group of civilians. The Variants grew smaller in the side mirrors as Beckham left them in a thin cloud of smoke from burning rubber.

He smacked the steering wheel. We’re going to make it . We’re actually going to get out of here!

But at what cost? Were the lives of Mikesell, Lombardi, and the soldiers whose names Beckham didn’t even know worth it?

Beckham blinked and eased off the gas as they approached the civilians. Chow had waved the group to the side of the tunnel.

“Get in!” Beckham yelled.

The survivors scrambled inside, and a moment later the Humvee was hauling ass down the tunnel. Beckham tried his comm as the first signs of natural light from Portal A spilled across the road.

“Echo 2, Echo 3, Charlie team leader. Do you copy? Over.”

The reply from one of the pilots was almost instantaneous. “Echo 2 here. Good to hear your voice, Charlie 1.”

Beckham looked in the rearview mirror, counting the people piled into the truck. “Echo 2, we need extraction for ten people. Repeat, need extraction for ten.”

Past the frightened faces, Beckham saw the army of Variants galloping down the tunnel after them. His eyes flicked back to the road and the green fence in the distance. Flooring the gas, Beckham drove like a man possessed, his focus on their salvation.

He squinted into the sunlight that he’d thought he would never see again. Through the glare, he could see the sleek outline of two circling choppers. Although he’d lost another piece of himself inside Raven Rock, he’d helped secure the drugs and saved lives—and he was returning to Kate. They were going to live. They were going home.

Fitz watched a seagull soar across the golden horizon. He was so bored he considered shooting it out of the sky. The highlight of his day had been pissing over the side of the tower. Operation Extinction had taken most of the soldiers into the field. That forced him to pull a twelve-hour shift with no one to relieve him for a latrine run. A bucket and a bag full of sand waited behind him, and he knew he’d be using them soon.

He sighed when he looked at his watch. Still another two hours before he would finally be relieved from his post.

“Apollo, how you doing down there, boy?” Fitz said. He looked over the side and searched for the dog. He found him sleeping on a patch of grass that looked so comfy it made Fitz tired.

“Don’t worry, Beckham will be back soon,” Fitz whispered, more to himself than the dog. He had just hoisted his MK11 back to the other side of the tower for a sweep of the post when he heard a trace of mechanical noise on the wind. He raised his rifle and centered the crosshairs on a single Blackhawk.

Fitz quickly scanned the horizon. One glance confirmed what he feared.

The bird was alone.

He followed it to the tarmac, where a four-man fire-team spilled out and began unloading boxes. He zoomed in on the face of each soldier, confirming that it was Bravo team. No Beckham. No Horn or Chow.

He checked the boxes next, focusing his scope on the crates that were marked Fragile. At least they’d secured the objective, but where the hell was Alpha and Charlie?

He waited thirty minutes for the other birds to show up. Valentine’s men continued unloading the chopper and carrying the crates to Building 1. The sun sank on the horizon, the warm golden glow losing the battle to the carpet of darkness spreading over the water. Fitz had to force himself to look away from the sky. He checked on Apollo to kill the time. The dog wagged his tail and glanced up when Fitz called his name.

In some ways, Fitz was jealous of Apollo. The dog had seen a lot of death, but there was no way it could comprehend the extent of the devastation. Fitz was envious of that. Some days, he wished he was in the dark. Today was one of them.

An hour passed and the light poles clicked on across the post. When Fitz was about to give up his search, he heard the faint whipping of chopper blades. The sniper in Tower 1 radioed two choppers in to command, but Fitz was hardly listening. He felt a smile forming on his face and hustled to the opposite side of the box to glass the darkness. Two red dots were growing larger in the sky, beacons of hope in an ocean of black.

Fitz focused on the troop holds as the Blackhawks set down on the tarmac. Something was off about the birds. Their markings were unusual, and their doors were closed.

He centered his crosshairs on one of the aircraft as soldiers in black fatigues swarmed out. Mikesell’s men had all worn black, Fitz thought. But these don’t look like the same guys. Who were they? And where was Charlie team?

The soldiers huddled around a central figure as they jogged away from the crafts. The sight reminded him of secret service surrounding the president. Whoever this person was, they were important.

Fitz zoomed in on the central figure’s face. He tensed his fingers around the handle of the gun when he saw it was Colonel Wood. This didn’t make any sense. Why would his men be guarding him like he was the most significant person left in the world?

Unless…

Fitz gritted his teeth and lowered his rifle. He was a grunt and therefore not worthy of the SITREP that would have informed him if Colonel Wood had suddenly been promoted up the chain of command. But he was smart enough to know that something had gone terribly wrong—and if Wood was running the show, things were about to get a whole hell of a lot worse.

Acold draft of air blew on Kate as she sat waiting at the war table in the command center. She shivered, wrapped her arms across her chest, and sank a few inches in her chair.

“It’s going to be okay,” Ellis said.

Kate wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to. Beckham had surprised her in the past. She’d thought he was dead so many times before and then—because of a miracle, luck, or divine intervention—he’d come home. Battered and bloody, but alive. This time, though, she wasn’t just worried about her own happiness. If she was carrying his child, she couldn’t bear the thought of raising it alone. Especially in this new world.

She sat there with her head lowered, feeling defeated. The chatter of voices sounded in the hallway outside the room. She wasn’t listening to the discussion. Part of her didn’t care anymore. After thirty minutes of waiting, the doors finally swung open and Colonel Wood entered the room. Ellis stood, but Kate remained in her chair.

Wood walked to the observation window as his team sat around the table. Jensen took a seat next to Kate.

“Beckham will be back,” he said quietly. “He’s a hard man to kill.”

Kate simply nodded.

“Everyone knows by now that Central Command has fallen,” Wood said from the window. “That’s the bad news.”

Wood turned and then slowly strolled over to the table. Raising a finger, he said, “But there’s good news too. Early reports indicate that the first stage of Operation Extinction has been an overwhelming success. We have recovered payloads of chemotherapeutics from around the country.” Wood turned to look at Kate. “Dr. Lovato, am I boring you? I presumed you would be pleased to learn that our men secured the drugs you asked for.”

“Good news,” Kate managed to reply. She looked ahead, afraid to say anything else that might make her look even weaker than she did now. Despite her despair, she had to remain strong. Humanity was still counting on her. It was a burden she no longer wanted, a burden she would gladly hand to anyone—anyone, that is, except the man who stood in front of her.