Nicholas Smith - Extinction Age

Instead of grabbing the handle, she put her hand over his. “Just promise me one thing,” Meg said, searching his eyes.

The strength there told her she could trust him. He was not Jed or Rex. He’d proved that when he’d stayed behind to save her from the lair, and she could see by the way he interacted with his men that he wouldn’t abandon them, either.

“If those things come—don’t let them take me again. You put a bullet in my head before that happens.” Meg coughed into her shoulder and then squeezed his hand harder.

The man nodded once and she let go, taking the knife. Chow helped her up, but she kept her eyes on Beckham as he walked away. Like the rest of this band of soldiers, she had already started looking to him for leadership—for hope.

“Looks clear up here,” Jinx said.

Beckham stopped under the manhole, tilting his helmet into the light. “You take point, Jinx. Valdez, you’re on rear guard. Timbo, you think you can carry Meg up this?” He placed a hand on the ladder.

“Yeah, no problem,” Timbo grumbled. He threw the strap of his rifle over a shoulder and approached her. “Hang on tight. Okay, ma’am?”

She nodded and tensed her muscles as Chow handed her off to Timbo. He picked her up and draped her over his back with the grace of someone who had carried wounded comrades before. Despite his care, her legs hurt so bad she let out an uncontrolled whimper.

The other soldiers were already moving up the ladder in single file. They disappeared one after the other into the night. Meg’s arms dangled over Timbo’s back. She gripped the handle of the blade tighter.

Footfalls pounded the concrete above and a soldier said, “Go, go, go!”

Timbo’s labored breathing reverberated through the narrow passage. Meg could feel each breath, his chest moving her up and down. Panic set in as he climbed. Sweat dropped from her forehead and plummeted into the stream of sewage flowing below.

“Almost there,” Timbo grunted. “You just hang on tight.”

The fear. The numbness. The radiant moonlight. It all washed over her, forming a sensation that bordered on an out-of-body experience. Then the warm trickle of what felt a lot like security replaced the numbness as Timbo emerged from the manhole.

The soldiers fanned out across the street, setting up positions behind a cluster of vehicles covered in soot. Everything about their actions radiated experience. Timbo stopped behind a pickup truck as Jinx wedged his body through a narrow gap between bumpers. He slowly strode out into the intersection, scoping Ninth Ave as he moved.

Nothing moved in the derelict streets or the absent windows of the skyscrapers towering overhead. The quiet city was a concrete and metal graveyard—a crumbling museum showcasing how things used to be.

No one else seemed to hear the faint clicking of joints in the silence. Not in time, at least. Meg should have known not to trust the deceiving sense of security. It vanished in a heartbeat as a shadowy figure crashed into Jinx, and a pair of claws dragged him screaming into the darkness.

For ten years, Kate had dedicated her life to science. In college, when her friends were choosing paths in fields like pediatrics, she had picked virology. Years later, when they were swabbing the throats of kids with colds, Kate was holding the hands of children who were dying of malaria in third world countries. Through all of it she’d been resilient, praying that her work would help those who needed it the most in some small way.

Kate never thought for a moment she would be sitting in a room with the survivors of the worst virus the human race had ever seen. The fact that it had been engineered as a weapon made her feel so much worse. The very scientific discipline that was supposed to eradicate disease had wiped out most of the people on the planet.

She fidgeted at the thought, still unable to completely grasp the nightmare she was living in. Ellis slid into her as he fell asleep with his back to the wall.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Tasha and Jenny were curled up on the floor next to Riley. The young Delta Force Operator slept with his head propped up on a fist, his broken body cradled by a wheelchair.

The lobby of Building 5 was crowded. The old and young. Men and women of all races. There was no discrimination here. The only conversations were hushed. Hands were held. Prayers were whispered, and tears were shed.

This was the new world.

In some ways it wasn’t all bad. Now that the Variants had effectively ended all human wars everywhere in the world, Kate supposed it didn’t matter what anybody believed anymore. Humans had finally set apart their differences and come together. Unfortunately, it had taken the imminent threat of extinction to bring them to this point.

Shouting from inside the command center echoed down the hallway. Tasha pulled on Kate’s sleeve.

“Are they yelling at my daddy?” she asked.

Kate crouched down. “No, honey. They’re just talking. He’s going to be back in a few minutes.”

Jenny trembled and sniffled. Sweat glistened under her auburn bangs.

“Are you feeling okay?” Kate asked. She held the back of her hand to the girl’s forehead.

Unblinking, the girl nodded and said, “I’m tired.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. You lie back down and try to get some sleep,” Kate said. It was just shy of four a.m., and the adrenaline from the attack was finally starting to wear off. Kate felt it like she was carrying a phantom weight. Beckham was trapped or dead in New York, and a third of Plum Island’s population had been killed. The truth hurt so bad she could hardly move.

She snapped alert at the hoarse voice of the Medical Corps guard.

“Doctors, Major Smith is ready for you,” he said.

“I’ll watch ‘em,” Riley said. He straightened his back with a wince and rolled his chair closer to the girls.

Kate nodded and followed Ellis into the sweltering command center. The stink of battle filled the air, reminding her of the medical tents from missions overseas. She could almost taste the sour stench of blood and sweat. Horn and the other survivors of Operation Liberty sat around the war table, oblivious to her presence.

“Have you heard from the others?” Kate called from the doorway.

Horn, Peters, Rodriguez, Smith, and a handful of other men she didn’t know turned in her direction, but didn’t reply. Horn dragged a tattooed arm across his mouth and then put his elbows on the table. She could see his face fall from where she stood.

“We lost contact with them shortly after the bombs dropped,” Horn finally said.

“Well, try again!” Kate snapped without thinking. Her eyes involuntarily roved from the new female radio operator sitting at the terminal across the room, to the soldiers, and back to the radio operator. The middle-aged woman stared back defiantly. Silver hair fell over the shoulders of her surprisingly neat navy uniform. Kate felt the stab of embarrassment. They were all looking at her like she was crazy.

Kate turned back to the table, her cheeks hot and flushed. Several soldiers bowed their heads, but Horn held her gaze. “We have, Kate. Multiple times.”

“Send a chopper and search for them. You can’t leave him there…”

Major Smith rose to his feet. “We have a chopper on standby, Doctor. But we can’t deploy one without extraction coordinates.”

“Kate, calm down,” Ellis whispered.

It was then she realized she was shaking. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Smith gave her a silent but meaningful look and gestured for her and Ellis to join them at the table.

“We received a message from Central Command a few minutes ago,” Smith said. “They have ordered a full retreat from every city. General Kennor has requested a call with you later this morning, Dr. Lovato.”