Kyle West - Extinction

I entered the barracks at a run. Several people awoke at my entrance. I ignored them, instead finding the barracks where Makara and Samuel were. I went up to Makara, shaking her from sleep.

“The hell?” she asked, eyes groggy.

“They’re attacking from above.”

She opened her eyes, her grogginess dispelled by this news. “What?”

“I just came from there. They have a lot of guys heading this way.”

Samuel awoke, along with several other Angels in the barracks. As they overheard my conversation, they armed themselves for combat.

I was afraid she was going to ask what I was doing up there in the first place, but thankfully, she decided there were more important priorities.

“How much time?” Makara asked.

“They should be here any second.”

Makara turned to the Angels. “Wake everyone as quietly as possible and gather them in the Command Center. Do not explain anything, just make sure they get there. We need to be ready to move in five minutes. Remember: as calmly as possible.”

Samuel took charge, delegating Angels to go to the separate barracks. We could only hope that the Lords didn’t attack during this time. I had no idea how the Lords managed to sneak their men to the top floor — it probably involved going outside and…

“Ashton!” I said.

Makara looked at me. “What?”

“He should have spotted those guys, if they had snuck in from the outside.”

Makara nodded. “We’ll check in with him.”

Makara and I went to the Command Center, finding the computer Samuel had set up with a direct line to Perseus.

“Ashton? Ashton, you read me?”

It was a moment before his voice came through, groggy. “Yeah, what?”

So they were okay. The Lords had intelligently decided to forgo the ship, deciding that they couldn’t trip any alarms. Ashton had obviously been asleep, as was understandable. Even if he had been awake, it was so dark he might have missed the Lords’ passing.

“The Lords are sneaking in from above,” she said. “Do you see anyone out there?”

Ashton hesitated only a moment, registering the news, before answering.

“Right. Looking out the windshield now, but I’m not seeing anything. Snowstorm’s picked up again.”

“Sit still,” Makara said. “We can’t let them know anything has changed. We need them to think they’re catching us unawares, when in reality, we’ll be ready for them.”

Even as Ashton and Makara continued to speak, the Command Center filled with Angels: refugees, women, and children. Anyone who could fight was given a gun and ammo, and this included some of the women. Anyone who couldn’t fight was ushered to a corner of the Command Center where they would be safest, guarded over by six Angels overseen by Samuel.

After the allotted five minutes, every Angel had reported for duty.

Makara briefly explained the situation before laying out her plan.

“We need to set up an ambush somewhere on this level. Earlier, we assigned squad leaders. Follow their lead and follow the chain of command, and we’ll make it.”

Everyone nodded, listening to Makara with a surprising level of calm.

“Here are my orders: stay on the third level. Stay off the main corridors. Hide wherever you can. They’re going to try to sneak into the Command Center. Let them get a good ways into the third level before striking, but don’t let them inside the Command Center itself. The idea is to get them on this level so deep that they have to commit to a fight where they’re at a disadvantage. As soon as we hear the gunfire, Samuel will shut off the lights. That’s your cue to attack. I hope you all have brought your flashlights.”

The Angels nodded their confirmation that they had.

“Samuel will hold the fort here, keeping the civilians safe. Any questions?”

No one said anything. There wasn’t time for questions, anyway.

“Move out,” Makara said. “And good luck.”

We waited.

I stood in a disused locker room with a combat team led by Michael, twenty Angels strong. The locker room connected to a gym, which connected to the main corridor.

We waited for either the gunshots to start, to get spotted, or the lights to go out.

My heart pounded in my chest. I wasn’t born a warrior. All I wanted was to survive, and somehow, I had ended up with a gun in my hand. I wanted to separate my emotions from the act of taking another man’s life, but I didn’t know if that was possible. I realized, not for the first time, that it could all end right here. I might never live to see Ragnarok Crater.

I looked at Michael, whose gaze had homed in on the corridor across from the gym. He was the only person looking outside the dingy locker room, waiting. When it was go time, he’d raise his hand, and the killing would begin.

A gunshot sounded, distant. One second passed. Two.

The lights dimmed. Two seconds more, then darkness. Spots flared in my vision.

“Go,” Michael whispered.

Twenty pairs of boots clomped into the gym. From the corridor, I heard panicked whispers, then silence.

They’d heard us.

“They’re in there!”

Michael opened fire in response to the Lord’s warning. The man screamed as bullets entered his flesh. Michael’s AR thundered in the cavernous gym, the gun’s barrel flashing like lightning. I added my own volleys, feeling the familiar kick of my AR at my shoulder. I held firm, giving the force the dispersion it needed. Another man screamed. When Michael ceased fire, the rest of us followed suit.

Then came the sounds of boots running down the corridor, past the open doorway of the gym. More shots followed.

“After me,” Michael said.

I fell in behind Michael. The metallic air stung with the smell of blood.

Michael took a corner, clicking on his gun light. Its beam revealed two Lords crouching over a comrade bleeding from his gut.

They barely had time to scream before we shot them down.

“Two behind!” someone yelled.

I spun to see our men in the back ranks take action. We fired, they fired. One of our men dropped while two Lords fell. More men filled the intersection.

“Take cover!” Michael roared above the din.

I dove into an open doorway, followed by several more Angels. One was shot mid-dive. He screamed and crashed into the floor next to me, his warm blood splashing my face. I wiped my cheek on my shirtsleeve, gritting my teeth. I looked at the dead man. A good chunk of his neck had been blown off.

More shots sounded, ricochets of bullets zinging like metallic wasps. Then, silence. Distant gunfire, distant screams of men…

Neither side wanted to show themselves in the darkness. The squad had been split up, and to get back together, one of the halves would have to cross the corridor under enemy fire.

“This way,” Michael said.

I was glad he was among the Angels who had taken shelter in this room, because that meant I was with Michael. Our leader crouched low and walked to a back corner. He shined his light around, revealing toppled desks, chairs, and a blackboard leaning against the wall, upon which a set of numbers had been scrawled with chalk. I had the time to recognize it as the quadratic formula before we passed into another classroom through an open doorway. It was filled with the clutter of a Bunker past. More toppled desks. Dust and dirt lining the floor. And, chillingly, chains hung from the walls, at the end of which were shackles.

I didn’t want to know the story behind those.

Michael took the lead once more, pointing his light beam right. Then left. He paused.

A bullet screamed past.