Nicholas Smith - Extinction Edge

“Copy that,” Lieutenant Hickman replied. “Will relay info to Command. Stand by.”

A few minutes later a stern voice came online. “Ghost. Lieutenant Colonel Jensen. That’s a hell of a lot of choppers.”

Beckham glanced at Chow and then said, “Sir, we have located a team of Delta Operators and Army Rangers. They would be a valuable addition to Operation Liberty. Horn’s daughters are alive, too.” He let the receiver down, still holding Chow’s gaze.

A moment of silence passed as Jensen considered the request. The lieutenant colonel would be analyzing the situation, considering all of the variables, including the wounded. Three choppers were a lot to risk.

“Copy that, Ghost. Extraction at 0700 hours. You get those civilians out of there safely. You hear me?”

“Thank you, sir,” Beckham said, breaking radio protocol again. He checked his wristwatch. That gave them ten hours to prepare the survivors and get to the evacuation location.

“Beckham,” Jensen said. “There’s something else. Dr. Lovato had a message for you about the Variants. She said they’re evolving.”

“Copy that, Sir,” Beckham replied.

The channel cut to white noise, and Beckham handed the receiver back to Chow.

“What the fuck does that mean? Evolving?” Chow asked.

Beckham thought back to the female Variant in NYC. He could picture the beard of blood on her face like she was standing right in front of him. The image of her pointing to their rooftop location gave him the chills. She’d shown a type of intelligence the other creatures hadn’t.

“You seen those things act differently at all in the past few days?” Beckham asked.

“Nah. They seem like basic predators to me. Hunt in packs and attack like kamikazes.”

Beckham scratched his chin. “Tell the rest of the men to be on alert. I don’t want any surprises.”

Chow flashed a thumbs-up and said, “Glad you made it, man.”

“Me too, brother.”

Chow tossed him an M4. “I sure hope you have a good plan to get these people out of here.”

Beckham caught the weapon. “I do,” he said, examining the gun. “I just hope we have enough bullets.”

“You authorized what?” Smith shook his head in amazement. “With all due respect, you do this for them and every soldier on this post will request the same for their family.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Jensen exhaled and spoke calmly. “Beckham and Horn and anyone they can find with their level of training… those men are invaluable. We need them.”

“I understand. But the other survivors are going to take up space, precious resources like food and water. Not to mention medicine. And there’s still the risk of infection.”

Jensen considered the major’s words. He was right. Everything he said made sense. The other soldiers on post would want the same treatment for their families. He’d already received two dozen requests for missions into the cities to look for survivors. Requests he’d denied. Now he was bringing fifty men and women from Fort Bragg to the island. Even if he did it in the cover of darkness, he would need to find a place to house them.

“I need a plan,” Jensen said.

Smith nodded. “Yes, Sir, you do.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Jensen walked to the window in the CIC and stared out over the ocean. It was the only place he felt comfortable. The last place on earth he felt a sense of peace. The purple waves crashed against the shoreline under the moonlight. The view was soothing, an escape from the responsibility he felt to those under his command. But it also served as a reminder of the horrors outside the safety of the island. Everyone stationed here had essentially won the lottery. It was one of the most secure locations left on the planet.

“That’s it,” he said suddenly.

The major raised his brows as he took a sip of steaming coffee. “What’s it?”

“A lottery.” Jensen hesitated for a second to reflect; then he brightened at the idea and turned to his second. “What if we hold a lottery? Any person on this post can enter if they have family within the range of one of the birds. We’ll select a random winner each week.”

Smith stared at him like he was crazy. “Where are we going to house these survivors? What if people don’t volunteer to go? Are these going to be single-man missions?”

Jensen sighed. He wasn’t thinking. Fuck , he wasn’t thinking at all.

“I don’t think you want to have riots on your hands,” Smith added. “In time we are going to have more problems to deal with. Supplies won’t last forever. The military and what’s left of the government may not be able to resupply us. We need to hunker down for the long haul.”

“The most important resources aren’t the supplies. They’re people, Major.” Jensen turned back to the window. “We can always find more supplies.”

“I hate to bring this up, but what if soldiers ask to leave the post? When their enlistment is up?”

“This isn’t a prison,” Jensen replied quickly. “They are free to go when their service is complete.”

Smith snorted his response. “I figured you would say that. But if we keep this post secure and safe, then we won’t have to worry about riots or soldiers asking to leave.”

Jensen had considered this before, in the hours of the night he couldn’t sleep. Smith was right. The best way to keep the island safe was to keep those on it happy.

“Besides, even if we hold a lottery, we have to admit the truth. Most people on this post lost their families weeks ago. There may not be anyone to rescue,” Smith said.

The ugly truth was difficult for Jensen to stomach, but he had accepted the fact his family was likely dead. And most of the other men and women on the post would have done the same. Smith was right; a lottery would be a waste of resources.

A welcome knock on the door reminded Jensen that he’d requested Kate’s and Ellis’s presence. She would be pleased to know that Beckham was safe.

“Come in,” Jensen said. He met the doctors in the center of the room, gesturing for them to take seats at the messy metal table. “I have good news for you, Dr. Lovato. Master Sergeant Beckham has linked up with a group of approximately fifty survivors at Fort Bragg. And they’ve located Staff Sergeant Horn’s daughters.”

Kate covered her mouth with her hand.

“That’s great!” Ellis said.

“When are they flying back?” Kate asked.

“Evac’s at 0700 hours,” Jensen replied.

Kate smiled. “Thank you.”

Jensen nodded. “Least I can do for him.” His tone hardened with his eyes as he took a seat next to Smith, who sat at the computer. “The reason I called you here is because I wanted your opinion on something. Major Smith, please bring up the data we have on New York.”

The monitor filled with a map of the city. Kate and Ellis scooted closer as Jensen eyed the clusters of red. They looked like they had grown, as if the Variants were continuing to gather.

“Zoom in on Manhattan,” Jensen said.

Smith punched several keys and the map shrank. Several red blocks emerged within the confines of Manhattan.

“What are we looking at?” Ellis asked.

“That is the most recent data we have from Central Command on Variant populations. This specific cluster is in Manhattan, very close to Times Square. A squad of reconnaissance Marines in the area put their numbers at around a thousand strong.”

“That’s it?” Kate asked, pulling her chair even closer to the table. “Can you show us a history of their movement?”