James Rollins - The 6th Extinction

He whined again softly, as if knowing what she must do.

She leaned close and touched her nose to his.

Love you, too, buddy .

A part of her desperately wanted to stay with him, but she had watched her mother bravely face the inevitable. Now it was her turn.

With her record of events secure and hidden with Nikko, she knew what she had to do. She gave Nikko a final rub, then rolled out from beneath the tractor. She needed to lead the others as far away from the husky’s hiding place as possible. She doubted whoever hunted her knew about her service dog or would even worry about him if they did. The endgame of the hunters here was to eliminate any witnesses who could talk. Once that was accomplished, the assault team should leave. Hopefully after that, someone would come looking for her — and find Nikko and the evidence she had left behind.

It was all she could do.

That, and give her hunters a good chase.

She set off at a low sprint, aiming away from the flames toward the darkest section of the hilltop. She made it fifty yards — then a shout rose to her left, a triumphant bawl of a hunter who had spotted their prey.

She ran faster with one last thought burning brightly.

Good-bye, my buddy .

Dr. Kendall Hess jolted at the staccato retorts of rifle fire. He sat straighter in his seat, straining his shoulders as he struggled to see out the helicopter’s side window. The plastic ties that bound his wrists behind him cut painfully into his skin.

What was happening?

He struggled through a foggy drug haze. Ketamine and Valium , he guessed, though he couldn’t be sure what sedative had been shot into his thigh after he was captured at the lab.

Still, he had witnessed what had transpired after the helicopter had fled the base. His entire body ached at the memory of the explosion, of the countermeasures he had managed to release as a last resort. He prayed such drastic action would contain what had escaped from the Level 4 biolab, but he couldn’t be certain. What he and his team had created in that subterranean lab was an early prototype, far too dangerous to ever be released into the real world. But someone had let it loose, a saboteur.

But why?

He pictured the faces of his colleagues.

Gone, all gone .

Another burst of gunfire echoed across the fiery hilltop.

Kendall had been left with one guard in the helicopter, but the man stared out the other window, plainly lusting to join the hunt. If only the pilot had failed to spot the fleeing truck earlier — from its logo, a park ranger vehicle — Kendall might have held out some hope, both for himself and for anyone within a hundred miles of his former lab.

Again he prayed his countermeasures held. The smoke contained a noxious concoction engineered by Hess’s team: a weapon-grade mix of VX and saxitoxin, a blend of a paralytic agent with a lethal organophosphate derivative. Nothing living could survive the slightest exposure.

Except for what I created .

His team had still not discovered a way to kill that synthetic microorganism. The engineered nerve gas was only meant to contain its spread, to kill any organism that might carry it farther afield.

As the barrage of gunfire continued out there, he pictured the unknown ranger doing his best to hold out, but the man was clearly outnumbered and outgunned. Still, the ranger kept fighting.

Can I do any less?

Kendall struggled through his drug-induced fog for clarity. He pulled at the snug plastic ties, using the pain to help him focus. One mystery occupied his full attention. The saboteurs had shot everyone at the base or left them to die with the explosion.

So why am I still alive? What do they need from me?

Kendall was determined not to cooperate, but he was also realistic enough to know that he could be broken. Anyone could be broken. There was only one way he could thwart them.

As another spate of gunfire erupted, Kendall twisted his arms enough to punch the release on his seat harness. As he was freed, he tugged the hatch open and fell sideways out of the cabin. He managed to catch one leg under him as he hit the ground. He used the support to propel himself away from the helicopter.

A shocked bellow rose from the cabin, coming from the lone guard — followed by a loud crack .

Dirt exploded near his left foot.

He ignored the threat, trusting that his captors wanted to keep him alive. He fled headlong, stumbling with his arms still tied behind him. His legs tripped on scrubby grass and ripped through snagging bushes. He aimed for the smoky darkness swirling around the lower slopes of the hill.

That path led to certain death.

He ran faster toward it.

It’s better this way .

With the hunt for the ranger occupying everyone’s attention, he grew more confident.

I can make it… it’s what I deserve—

Then a shadow overtook him, impossibly fast, shivering across the landscape, lit by the fires blazing on the hilltop. A hard blow struck him in the lower back, sending him sprawling facedown into the scrub brush. He rolled over, scrabbling backward on hands and feet.

A massive shape stood limned against the flames.

Kendall didn’t need to see the ragged scar to recognize the leader of the assault team. The figure stalked over to him, raised an arm, and slammed down the steel butt of a rifle.

With his hands still pinned behind him, Kendall couldn’t deflect the blow. Pain exploded in his nose and forehead. He collapsed backward, his limbs gone rubbery and limp. Darkness closed the world to a tight, agonized knot.

Before he could move, iron fingers clamped on to his ankle and dragged him back toward the helicopter. Thorns and sharp rocks cut into his back. They might need him alive, but plainly it didn’t matter in what condition.

He blacked out for several breaths, only to find himself waking as he was tossed into the cabin. Orders were barked in Spanish. He heard the words apúrate and peligro .

He translated through the daze.

Hurry up and danger .

The world suddenly filled with a dull roar, then teetered drunkenly. He realized the helicopter was lifting off.

He rolled enough to peer out the window. Below the skids, dark figures ran across the hellish landscape of the burning ghost town. It seemed the helicopter was abandoning the rest of the assault team.

But why?

The pilot gesticulated wildly toward the ground.

Kendall stared closer. He suddenly understood the threat. The poisonous cloud of nerve gas was beginning to waft upward from the surrounding valleys. At first he thought the smoke had been stirred by the passing craft’s rotor wash, but then he understood.

Updraft!

The blazing firestorm here was pushing up a column of hot air. As it rose from the hilltop, it drew the deadly gas along with it, pulling it like a veil over the burning summit.

No wonder a swift evacuation had been ordered. Kendall stared at the hulking form of the leader seated across from him, a weapon across his knees. The other’s gaze was also out the window, but he stared skyward, as if already writing off his teammates.

Kendall refused to be so callous.

He searched below for some sign of the beleaguered ranger. He held out no hope, but the fellow deserved some witness, or at the very least, a final prayer. He whispered a few words as the helicopter whisked away — ending with one last entreaty, staring down at that black, swirling sea of poison.

Let me be right about the gas .

Above all else — nothing must live.

Jenna crouched inside the dilapidated remains of an old general store. She hid with her back against the graffiti-scarred counter at the rear. Above her head, rows of wooden shelves frosted with cobwebs held a handful of antique bottles with age-curled labels. She fought not to sneeze from all the dust and did her best to ignore the pain in her upper arm. A trace of fire from a bullet had grazed her bicep.