Nicholas Smith - Extinction Horizon

Beckham spied a glimpse of movement to the side, where a pair of boots landed on the gravel. He recognized Horn’s oversized shoes instantly.

Thrashing, Beckham did his best to deflect the torrent of punches. He was now in survival mode, trying to limit the damage.

“Help Riley!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. There was no fucking way that Beckham was going to let the kid die.

Horn’s boots vanished and Beckham heard another crack from a .45. There was a second shot. Gore speckled Beckham’s visor. He gasped, struggling for air, hot puffs exploding inside his helmet.

He felt the weight of the creature on top of him go limp, and with a small grunt Beckham tossed the corpse off him. Wiping his visor with the sleeve of his biosuit, he cleared the pane free of the chunks of brain matter.

Horn was hunched over Riley a few feet away. Beckham quickly stumbled to his feet. The kid reached up as he approached, blood gurgling out of his mouth behind a cracked visor.

“I’m sorry, boss,” Riley choked.

Beckham’s heart sank when he saw Riley’s bloody face. He could hardly make out the young man’s features.

“Take it easy, kid,” Beckham replied. He crouched next to Riley and grabbed his right hand, clutching it in his own. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

“Can’t feel my legs,” Riley said.

Beckham glanced down. The kid’s right leg was ruined. A broken bone protruded out of his suit just above the ankle. There was no time for a tourniquet, they had to get him to the bird first.

Riley tightened his grip on Beckham’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Contacts incoming. Let’s move, Ghost,” the pilot said over the comm.

“Horn,” Beckham yelled, motioning with a hand for the larger man to help him. Together they pulled Riley to his feet and dragged the kid over to the rope. He wailed in pain as they attached it to a clip on his belt.

A flash of movement from the south side of the building pulled Beckham’s attention to another group of Variants. He could hear their claws scratching across the concrete over the whoosh of the blades. There were dozens of them, galloping across the rooftop of the adjacent building.

“Go!” Beckham yelled, giving the crew chief above a thumbs up.

He watched as Riley’s limp body was pulled toward the chopper. When the kid was halfway up, Beckham reached for another magazine and jammed it home into his pistol. Horn ran to where he’d dropped his M27. In one action he reloaded it and leveled it toward the approaching creatures.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, the two operators fired. Something inside Beckham snapped in that moment. An internal machine activated. His gun became part of him. He killed without thought. He killed to avenge his fallen brothers and he killed to protect the brother beside him. They would fight to the bitter end, to the final bullet.

Kate woke up freezing cold. Her teeth chattered as she struggled to open her eyes. With one eyelid cracked open, she saw a bank of lights hanging from the white ceiling.

Where was she? In a hospital?

Panicking, Kate tried to sit up, but her arms, feet and hands wouldn’t budge. She thrashed and twisted in protest, fear gripping her, but whatever was holding her down was tight. Lifting her head slightly, she saw white restraints strapped across her body. And then she remembered what had happened inside Building 4.

The last thing she could recall was Patient 12 lunging at her, the man’s crazed eyes caught in the beam of her flashlight.

“Hey!” she screamed. “Someone get me out of here.”

Squirming, she tried to get free again, but it was futile. The restraints were tight. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“Help!” Kate yelled, desperation in her voice.

She froze when she heard the heavy rap of boots in the hallway. They stopped outside her door.

“Good evening, Doctor Lovato. I know you can’t see me, but this is Lieutenant Colonel Jensen. I’m here with Major Smith. You are one hell of a lucky lady.”

She lifted her head. Throbbing pain rippled down her skull and neck. Closing her eyes, she clenched her jaw and waited for the pain to pass.

“Where am I?” Kate winced.

“You’re in the medical ward, Building 3,” Jensen replied. “I’m sorry we had to quarantine you. It’s for your own safety. I’m sure you understand that.”

“I feel fine,” Kate said. “I’m not infected. I can’t be,” she said, her voice trailing off. For a moment she felt unsure. The virus would have purged from Patient 12’s body, but there was the small chance that some virions remained.

Kate felt her heart flutter and stared at the ceiling. Closing her eyes, she tried to remain calm. “When can I get out of here?”

“Soon,” Jensen said. “In the meantime we need to talk to you. Operation Depletion has been an overall success,” he stated. “But as you are aware, some of the infected survived. Reports are coming in right now. So far it’s looking like somewhere between four and eight percent of the infected are recovering.”

“That high?” Kate said, her eyes snapping back open.

“Unfortunately. Interim POTUS has authorized the mission to continue, however. Air assets are currently deploying VariantX9H9 around the country, moving from larger cities to smaller ones.”

Kate felt her heart kick hard.

“Dr. Lovato, this is Major Smith.”

“We are now moving into Phase 2, as Colonel Jensen just explained. We want to—”

“What’s Phase 3?” Kate interrupted before he could finish.

Jensen’s voice reemerged. “Clean up. Once Phase 2 is complete, we’ll coordinate targeted air strikes and send in ground troops for the final sweep. One by one, we will clear the cities of the remaining hostiles.”

Kate closed her eyes again. How many were they talking about? And how long would it take? She felt too tired to ask any more questions. Her body ached and she just wanted to sleep.

An explosion of sounds echoed in the passage beyond. She struggled to move, to get a view of the glass window in her room.

Wheels screeching against the ground. A panicked voice.

No.

Two panicked voices, and a third.

“Move, get this guy into surgery ASAP!”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“You guys need to wait out here!”

Kate recognized the second voice. It was Horn. Which meant… Lifting her head despite the pain, she watched Smith and Jensen throw their backs against the wall as medical staff rushed by with a patient on a gurney. Horn and Beckham followed close behind. They were dressed in decon outfits.

“Reed!” she yelled.

The man stopped, acknowledging Jensen and Smith before meeting Kate’s eyes with a confused gaze.

“Glad you’re back in one piece,” Jensen said.

Beckham nodded and moved to the glass, palming the surface with a clean hand still glistening wet from the showers. “Kate, what happened? Why are you in there?”

Summoning her most confident voice, she said, “I’m fine.”

“She was exposed,” Jensen said. “We had to quarantine her.”

Beckham shook his head and he looked down the hallway. He muttered something she couldn’t make out.

“Who was that?” Kate asked, terrified to hear the truth.

“Riley. He’s hurt. Hurt bad,” Beckham said, bowing his head as a tear coursed down his cheek, a moment of weakness finally bleeding through.

Kate felt tears welling in her eyes. She blinked them away. She needed to be strong for Beckham like he had been for her. “I’m so sorry.”

“He’s going to be okay,” Beckham replied, confident now. “And so are you.” Lifting his chin, he narrowed his eyes. Kate struggled to keep her head up.