Nicholas Smith - Extinction Edge

“Our makeshift shelter’s on the other side,” Chow continued. “Come on. Let’s move these things.”

Horn was already angling his shoulder into the side of the closest drum on the left. After a few grunts he had created a gap wide enough for another body. Beckham squeezed through and helped him move the barrel against the wall. The plastic screeched across the concrete as they moved. Chow and Jinx worked on the barrel to the right and the team repeated the process for the second set. The four Rangers stepped through the narrow gap and began to remove the sandbags.

Sweat formed on Beckham’s forehead. His uniform was wet by the time they finished clearing the doors, a mixture of perspiration and blood.

“Well?” Horn asked. “Is there a password or what?”

Chow pulled off his gas mask and rapped his fist against the metal three times. “It’s Chow, open up.”

The only response was a hollow echo.

Horn yanked on one of the handles. The locking mechanism clicked, locked from the other side. Chow pounded the door again. “Hey, Williams! You awake? It’s Chow, and we have company.” He pressed his ear against the steel and listened.

“Shit,” he muttered, stepping away from the door.

“What do you mean, shit?” Horn said. “You said you had this place guarded.”

“It was,” Jinx chimed in.

“It is,” Chow corrected him. He tossed his M4 to Jinx and reached for a pocket in his vest, retrieving a small lock pick. “Williams is on security. He’s probably patrolling the other hallways.”

“He better be,” Horn snarled.

“Keep it down,” one of the Rangers said. The man’s tag said Rich. He removed his gas mask and ran a hand through his hair. Then he took a drink and turned to scan the other end of the tunnel, his eyes roving back and forth anxiously.

“What the hell were you guys doing outside anyways?” Horn asked. “Why’d you leave the others?”

Chow glanced over his shoulder. “Supply run. We were trying to make it to an ammo depot when those things ambushed us. Lost two men.”

Rich shook his head and walked over to the other three Rangers. Beckham’s heart sank as the four men talked in hushed voices. He wondered how many other squads and teams had been torn apart like Team Ghost. So much death and loss, and all for what? Colonel Gibson’s fucking dream.

The lock clicked and Chow flexed his arm into an uppercut. “Got it,” he said, smiling. He stepped back and reached for his rifle.

“Keep sharp,” Beckham said. “You take point, Chow. You know this place the best.”

The operator nodded and grabbed the handle, eyeing each man in turn. After a beat he twisted it and pulled the door back to reveal an empty passage. There were piles upon piles of boxes stacked to the ceiling on the right-hand side.

Horn moved next, his weapon angled into the darkness. The damp hallway stank of stale water, but the sour fruit smell was absent. Chow stopped at the first curve and propped his shoulder against the wall. Placing two fingers to his eyes, he flashed a hand signal to Beckham and Jinx. Beckham gripped his 10mm, tensed his body and bolted around the corner. A beam of intense light hit him in the face, momentarily blinding him. He stared into the ray, his palm extended in an attempt to shield his eyes, his trigger finger dangerously close to squeezing off a shot.

“Friendly, friendly!” Jinx yelled.

Beckham blinked away white fuzz and saw a Ranger standing in the middle of the corridor, a look of shock painted across his features. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-one years old.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” the man said.

Chow and Horn hustled into the hallway. “Well, Jinx just about shot you in the face, Williams,” Chow said. “Didn’t you hear the gunfire earlier?”

“I can’t hear shit,” the man said. “My ears have been fucked since the bombs dropped.” He smacked the side of his helmet and scanned the new faces.

“Where are the others?” Horn asked.

“Who the hell are these guys?” Williams asked. “And where’s Ricardo and Bonner?”

“These are Delta Operators Horn and Beckham,” Chow said. His gaze flicked to the floor in a moment of silence. Looking up, he said, “Ricardo and Bonner didn’t make it.”

“Fuck” Williams said softly. Anguish streaked across his features, and he gave his helmet another smack.

“Rich, Timbo, Steve, and Ryan—you guys secure that back door. Then report to command,” Chow said. He turned to Horn next and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You ready to see your daughters?” Chow asked.

Horn smiled for the first time in days. “Hell yes.”

Kate stared at her food. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking at. The man who had slopped the mush onto her plate called it meat. But maybe he was joking. It had the same consistency as mashed potatoes.

She’d learned to stop taking things for granted when she began her career in the field. Traveling to remote villages in India, the Sudan, and Guinea had a way of changing a person, making them realize how great Americans really had it. The majority of the world did not have access to clean drinking water, health care or electricity, let alone porterhouse steaks.

Kate jammed a forkful into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. It didn’t taste that bad, actually. She told herself it was mashed potatoes and finished half the meal before checking on Ellis.

The doctor sat across the table, shoveling green beans in his mouth as he thumbed through pictures on his cell phone. With service gone, the devices were nothing more than picture albums or toys. Some of Kate’s old apps still worked. Ironically, the plague game she used to play still functioned. Dismissing these trivial thoughts, Kate let her mind wander to the people she would never see again.

Her brother. Michael. Possibly her parents. And…

Kate shook the thought away. Beckham was coming back. He would swim back to Plum Island if he had to.

“I miss CNN,” Ellis muttered. He placed his phone down on the table.

“I miss the Discovery Channel.”

“We’re living in a Discovery Channel documentary about the end of the world,” Ellis said.

Kate wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I know. I never thought I’d be one of the stars.”

Ellis popped another green bean into his mouth. “Do you think things will ever go back to normal?”

“Are you kidding?”

He shrugged. “I believe in miracles.”

“Would take one hell of a miracle,” Kate said under her breath.

“I still have hope. That’s why I became a doctor in the first place.”

He was right, and Kate knew it. She had a tendency to treat Ellis like a kid, like her little brother, Javier.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Ellis rolled his eyes and grabbed his cell again, swiping the screen with a greasy finger.

“Ellis,” she insisted. “You’re right. It’s just…”

He looked away from his phone with casual curiosity.

“This documentary sucks,” Kate finished.

Ellis laughed. “Yeah, yeah, it does. But, Kate, if it weren’t for you, the Hemorrhage Virus would have infected an even larger percentage of the population.”

The brief moment of humor faded away. Kate dropped her fork. “I know, but I can’t stop thinking of Javier. VariantX9H9 killed him . I killed my brother.” She cupped her head in her hands. “I killed my own brother,” she whispered.

“Javier was probably already dead. Just like my family. You didn’t want him to suffer, did you?”

Kate shook her head. “No.”