Энтони Мелкиорри - Hybrid

All O’Neil could hope to do was meld into the shadows. The chorus of monsters never let up, and the stench never left his nose. He wound past silhouettes lurching between the trees and guided his team as far as he could from every sound that might indicate a Skull until they could finally see their destination—a three-story building with thin concrete columns stretching up the first two floors. Large glass windows lined all three levels. Most of the panes were covered in filth and dust, neglected since the beginning of the outbreak, preventing him from seeing what lay beyond.

They followed a short, stone wall at a crouch, Bravo leading, Alpha covering them. It led to another breezeway where there was an entrance the scientists had said would be open.

Only, O’Neil had not counted on just how open it would be.

Crystalline shards of glass were sprinkled across the concrete, reflecting the wan moonlight. Trails of dark blood were spread all over the tiled floor inside the small lobby, where a few fabric couches and chairs had been upended, stained in dark splotches.

It was impossible to tell whether that blood belonged to a human or Skull. O’Neil did his best to soften the crunch of his boots over the broken glass, rifle pressed tightly against his shoulder as he followed Loeb into the entrance. The rest of Alpha and Bravo came after, occasionally pausing to cover each other.

They spread out to secure the lobby. There were far too many offices and laboratories in the building for them to clear each one, so the plan was to head straight up to the research team’s refuge while disturbing as few Skulls as possible. Because they knew, as soon as the helicopter flew in to pick them up, the beasts that filled the hospitals neighboring the research building would flood their position. They would likely have one minute, maybe less, before the beasts overwhelmed the facility after the choppers arrived.

Reynolds whispered into the comms. “Delta, Charlie, Alpha Actual. In position.”

“Copy, Alpha. Charlie is in overwatch,” Charlie’s leader said.

“Delta is in overwatch,” another SEAL called.

“Proceeding to targets’ location,” Reynolds whispered.

“Copy. Standing by,” Charlie’s lead said.

Delta and Charlie teams had made it to the upper floor of a three-story parking garage just northwest of the Levine Science Research Center. The parking garage would serve as the secondary exfil site should the research center be compromised by aggressor contacts.

Reynolds signaled for Bravo team to take the stairs toward the western side of the lobby. O’Neil and Loeb once again led the team up. They made it to the third floor without running into contacts. But as with the lobby, the dark corridor stretching before them was filled with broken glass and blood. Down this hall was where they were supposed to meet up with the researchers.

O’Neil could already feel the disappointment in his gut as they navigated past shattered computers scattered on the floor and chairs that had been turned to splinters. He peered into laboratories where microscopes and lab benches were broken, and then offices where the cracked desks, toppled cubicle walls, and destroyed monitors made it seem like a herd of elephants had rampaged through the place.

Thick streaks of blood dragged toward the room where the researchers were supposed to have been sheltering. And the closer they got, the stronger the scent of death became.

O’Neil was already thinking the mission had been a waste, but he recalled his father’s words. To survive into the future, focus on the present. Because that’s all that truly mattered in this moment.

Loeb and O’Neil positioned themselves in front of the door where the bloody trails led. The door was closed.

He nodded at Loeb, and the operator pushed open the door. O’Neil came in after him, the powerful odor of rotting meat hitting him. The room was taken up mostly by a wide conference table. Sleeping bags had been laid out around the floor, and all the chairs were piled into another corner. A few laptops and notebooks were scattered across the conference table.

And while there was blood all over the floor, a single body was slumped in a chair at the end of the table.

“Is that one of our targets?” Reynolds whispered.

“Shit,” Tate said.

O’Neil slowly approached the body. This might be the only researcher they find, and by the looks of it, they were already far too late.

As O’Neil stepped closer to the body, the man actually stirred. O’Neil’s heart leapt. Maybe they had one target after all. And if this guy knew anything about the Agent that had caused the Skulls, anything at all that could help at Detrick, then they might come away from the mission with some small success.

“US DEVGRU,” O’Neil said. “I’m Petty Officer Brendon O’Neil. Here to rescue you.”

The man looked up at O’Neil. His skin was pale, his hair matted down and oily, his cheekbones pronounced. Looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks with the way his white lab coat hung down over his thin frame and the ratty sweater he wore beneath it.

“Sir, we’re here to rescue you,” O’Neil reported.

The man’s head bobbed like he was nodding. But he let out a soft groan.

“Alpha Actual here,” Reynolds said into his mic. “We’re going to need a medic on exfil.”

“Sir, I’m getting you out of here,” O’Neil said. But the closer he got to the guy, the more the scent of death and filth filled his nostrils. At first, he wondered if the guy had been injured. Or maybe he was so disoriented by hunger and thirst, he couldn’t stand.

But then O’Neil saw the slight scratch on his throat. It had healed. Or at least, looked like it had healed. O’Neil could tell that the scab over that scratch wasn’t the typical dark red, graininess of a scrab. It was white, even in the NVGs.

If O’Neil had a microscope, he was sure he could confirm it was almost like bone-like. Just like the growths on the Skull he’d killed in the chapel.

This guy, as human as he looked, was no longer an innocent researcher waiting to be rescued.

He was a monster, waiting for prey.

O’Neil took a step backward as the man shot up, then tore his head back and let out an inhuman shriek that hammered O’Neil’s eardrums. The man spread his arms back, the vessels bulging in his neck and his forehead, his lips peeling back to reveal teeth that had just started to grow and sharpen. His hellish screams echoed past O’Neil and shook through the hallway.

O’Neil squeezed his trigger. Planted two shots into the man’s chest.

The man’ wailing stopped, and he crumpled to the ground, scratching at his chest, peeling back the cloth and his own skin as he bled out over the floor. Another bullet to the head kicked his skull back, and he fell still.

But the damage had already been done.

From somewhere with the building, the first handful of howls shrieked back in response.

As those first calls reverberated through the building, they were answered by more outside.

Then a voice came over their comms, sounding almost distant as O’Neil absorbed the words.

“Bravo, Alpha, Delta Actual,” the drone operator said. “Movers headed your way. Hundreds of them.”

O’Neil knew they needed to get onto the roof for immediate evac.

But the mission wasn’t over.

“We have to find the targets,” O’Neil said.

“We found one.” Van nodded to the dead man.

“Only one,” O’Neil said. “But we didn’t see any bodies. Maybe they rest are still here. Alive.”

“Alive?” Loeb asked. “Sorry, boss, but I’m not so sure.”

“O’Neil’s right,” Reynolds said. “If there’s even a chance they’re alive, we owe it to them to search. We’ll clear the rooms on our way down the hall toward the roof access. Then if we don’t see anything, we’re gone. Got it?”