Nicholas Smith - Extinction Edge

Jensen chewed the inside of his lip. The phantom taste of tobacco made his stomach growl. Four days without it and he was already going through withdrawals. Digging into his pocket, he felt for a piece of chewing gum.

“Patch it over the speakers,” Jensen said, preparing himself for the worst. He’d never been much of a deep thinker; taking things too seriously caused unnecessary stress. Now that he was acting commander of one of humanity’s last strongholds, all of that had changed. The fate of so many rested in his hands. Every single soul on the island was invaluable. Whatever command was cooking up was likely to put many of his own in harm’s way, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

“It’s an automated message,” Hickman said. “I’m picking it up on several frequencies.”

“Switching,” Benzing said. “Mine just cut out.”

The speakers coughed static and then went silent for several seconds.

“What happened?” Jensen asked. He leaned over Benzing’s shoulder as a voice suddenly crackled from the speakers.

“This is General Richard Kennor broadcasting from Offutt Air Force Base. This mission might be the most important in the history of the United States military. Our species has been divided. Operation Depletion was a success, but now we face a new enemy. I have seen with my own eyes what these creatures are capable of. Our brave men and women in the armed services are vastly outnumbered. But we have something these monsters do not.” He paused for a moment and then said, “We have the weapons of the twenty-first century.”

Goose bumps popped up on Jensen’s skin as the general’s voice grew louder. That was the effect legendary commanders had on those under their command. They could convince young men to run into enemy fire and politicians to fund wars based on lies.

“With these weapons at our disposal, I am confident that we will retake our streets. America will once again be a free nation,” Kennor said.

There was a break in the transmission. The general came back online a moment later. “In ninety-six hours we will embark in Operation Liberty, a massive coordinated attack that will send our remaining troops into every major city to destroy the enemy! Stand by for specific orders to be relayed to individual bases and outposts in the coming hours.”

Jensen caught Hickman’s worried gaze. He stood strong, his arms folded. Managing his emotions was key to reassuring those under his command. With more at stake than ever before, it was imperative he retain his composure.

Giving Hickman a strong nod, Jensen walked to the observation window. “Get Major Smith on the line. Tell him to get here ASAP. We have a war to plan.”

Beckham shoveled a spoonful of slop into his mouth. He wasn’t even sure what he was eating. It tasted a bit like fish but had the texture of chicken. He forced the food down and looked over at Kate.

She cringed. “What is this?”

“Better get used to it,” Beckham said in between bites. “We’re going to be eating reserve supplies. Riley was right when he mentioned food production. The world economy has shut down, which means…”

Kate answered with an exaggerated sigh. “No more hamburgers.”

Beckham chuckled. “I thought you were going to say no more margaritas or something.”

“We still have tequila,” she said with a wink.

Beckham held his spoon in front of his lips and ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth as he studied the doctor. She wasn’t exactly his type, definitely not the kind of woman that he normally dated. When he dated, he reminded himself. The last girl he’d dated had been a yoga instructor. That ended when he walked in on her banging a college football player half his age.

He’d have kicked the guy’s ass if he had cared enough. Beckham had always been loyal to his team first. There wasn’t a girl out there that could hang with him on a ten-mile run or three-mile swim. And that was okay. His career had taken precedence over finding a partner. His men were his family.

But he couldn’t deny there was something about Kate. She carried herself in a graceful way. Strong, intelligent, and striking, she was the type of woman his mother would have wanted him to marry. He shook his head. There was no place for those thoughts in this new world. Everyone was dead or dying outside the safety of their little island. He refused to be the asshole that made a move on a woman at such a vulnerable time. But he couldn’t deny he was attracted to her. More than that, he cared about her. Looking at Kate made him realize, for the first time in a very long time, that he could care.

Horn walked briskly toward their table. His eyebrows were scrunched together, his red hair sticking out in all directions like he’d been running his hands over his skull.

“What’s wrong?” Beckham asked.

“Lieutenant Colonel Jensen and Major Smith want to see us,” Horn said. He turned to Kate. “Wants to see you, too.”

Kate finished off her plastic cup of juice and raised a brow. “About what?”

“Sounds like Central Command is planning something big.”

Beckham dropped his spoon into the mush on his tray. He had known another operation was in the works. If he were in charge, he’d be planning one himself.

Kate and Beckham stood at the same time, grabbing their trays and following Horn through the packed tables. Several uniformed men and women glanced up from their food as they walked by. For once they weren’t looking at him or Horn. They were looking at Kate.

“There goes the savior of the world,” an African-American Marine sneered. Beckham recognized him from weeks before. He paused in his tracks and took a step back, shooting the man an angry glare.

“You have a problem, Johnson?” Beckham asked. His nostrils flared.

“No,” Johnson said. “Sorry.”

Beckham nodded and held the man’s gaze for several seconds before following Kate and Horn outside. When they reached the door she leaned over and whispered, “Thank you, Master Sergeant.”

The horizon warned of another storm. Swollen clouds, the color of fresh bruises, crept across the skyline. Beckham needed more men—trained soldiers. He’d made the decision he should have made a long time ago. He’d obeyed every order Colonel Gibson and Lieutenant Colonel Jensen had thrown at him since Ghost arrived at Plum Island. Now it was his turn to make a request. He and Horn needed to go back to Fort Bragg to search for Horn’s family and any surviving Delta Force Operators.

He followed Kate and Horn to Building 1 in silence, using the time to consider the situation from a tactical standpoint. The war was entering a new stage. And like any war, the problem was resources. The US military was strained. They had the firepower and the aircraft, but they lacked pilots and boots. His request to return to Bragg would likely fall on deaf ears, but he had to try.

A streak of lightning ripped through the gray sky. The scent of rain mixed with the salt-tinged wind blowing off the ocean. It was beautiful here, but the serenity of the island was a cruel deception. He knew better than anyone just how bad things were out there. And as they reached Building 1, he had the sinking feeling that they were about to get worse.

The minty smell of the lab replaced the salty breeze as they entered the facility. Two guards sealed the doors behind them, shutting out the distant clap of thunder.

“This way,” Kate said, gesturing with her chin toward the hallway.

Beckham took a sidelong glance at the windows along the left side of the passage. Scientists in CBR suits worked tirelessly on the other side. The crisp, clean facility glimmered under banks of LEDs. It was all so… clean.