Apocalypse Machine (32 page)

But nothing is that easy. Not anymore.

Twenty feet from the shore, the now very angry Scion strikes again. None of us see it coming, and as the boat twists counterclockwise beneath us, I stumble backward and slam into the starboard rail. Then, pulled by the weight of my go-pack, I tumble over the side just as the ship collides with the shore. As I fall, I see Mayer and Graham leap away, landing in waist deep water. Then I plunge into the frigid ocean, and sink.

I hit the bottom on my hands and knees. There’s a moment of indecision about whether or not to open my eyes. There’s no way to know which direction I’m facing, so I have no choice. Salt water burns my eyes when I open them, and my view is hazy, but I can see the surface eight feet above me. The sloping shore is ahead, which is sandy until the water is shallow. I try to swim, but my pack pushes me down into the sand, sending crabs scurrying away. Then I crawl on my hands and knees. I move in slow motion, the drag from the pack slowing me down. I think about shedding it, knowing this is how a large number of soldiers perished while storming the beaches of Normandy during World War II, but I don’t give up yet. We’ll need the gear to survive on land. Survive now to survive later.

I’m pushed back down by a sudden blast of water. I twist around and see the warbling underside of the sea-Scion. Water jets from its underside, pushing me away. Its head slams down into the water, thrashing back and forth. I slide across the ocean floor on my stomach, lungs burning as my muscles eat up the oxygen in my veins. A scream carries away the air in my lungs, but I hardly notice as the Scion curls over my body and surges back into the deep, dragging
Hope
along with it.

Light from above draws my attention back to the surface. So close. I plant my feet in the sand, tilt my body forward and shove, one step after another. Half of my effort goes to pushing small mounds into the loose sand, but I move forward.

My body aches.

I trudge on.

Then I feel myself about to inhale.

The top of my head clears the surface, but I’m still unable to breathe. I can’t even jump up for a quick breath. My hands fumble with the pack. I need to set it free.

Need to breathe!

My mouth opens.

Water rushes in, sucked down into my lungs, flooding my oxygen-deprived body with salt.

34

Ike

Master Sergeant Ike Wright watched the approaching wave of Fobs through the lens of the high powered telescope, but he knew it wouldn’t be necessary soon. He didn’t think the creatures knew about the five men keeping a vigil from the top of Mount Hood, but they were certainly going to pass by close enough to pick up the scent. If the Fobs had been of the more docile variety found on the plains, competing with bison that had made a comeback, he wouldn’t be worried. But the creatures, racing through the forest thirty miles out, had the look of predators.

He’d never seen this sub-species of Fob before, but that wasn’t unusual either. The creatures were ever evolving and migrating, searching out a niche to call home. The bulky four-limbed creatures, with their squat heads, long tusks and bulging eyes, could have come north from Central America, or south out of Canada. Hell, they could have come out of the ocean, for all he knew. It didn’t really matter where they came from.

His job, right now, was to keep his men alive. And that meant making a choice. Dig in and fight, or abandon the outpost. Loyalty to his men and a dedication to the job were at odds for the first time in his military career.

We’ve already served our purpose,
he thought.
There’s nothing more we can do.

His military training countered.
I swore to defend this outpost with my life. I knew I’d probably die here. So did my men.

Call it in. Report the situation. Let someone else make the call.

But give the men a fighting chance.

“Edwards,” Ike said. “You’re on point. Back to the Lodge, double time. Prep for a fight.”

The young man’s voice quivered as he said, “Yes, sir.”

“Felder.” The four men stopped by the hatch, eyes expectant and nervous. They had seen action before. They’d fought and killed Fob packs. But not this many. No one had faced this many and survived. “Prep the chopper for evac. I want both options ready to go when I get there.”

Hope sprang into the faces of all four men, and Ike prayed it was justified. He was putting their lives, all of their lives, in the hands of someone more than two thousand miles away.

He waited for all four men to start down the ladder before closing the hatch and sitting down at the radio. He raised the mic to his mouth, pausing for a moment. Katelin was on the other end. Hearing her voice after nearly a year away from Raven Rock was hard enough, but knowing she still loved him after all that time made it painful, too. Clouded his judgement.

He wondered if his thoughts of retreat stemmed from speaking to her. He couldn’t discount the possibility. But he also didn’t want to sacrifice the lives of his men if they’d already fulfilled their duty to the fullest. If the aberration really was headed for Yellowstone, there really wasn’t a good reason to stick around.

He pushed the call button. “Raven Rock, this is Sergeant Major Ike Wright. Do you copy? Over.”

“I’m here, Ike,” Katelin replied. “Over.”

Ike shook his head and smiled. She wasn’t very good at her job, but he was glad to hear her again. “Katelin, I need you to listen, and I need you to act on your training. Forget about us. Forget about how you might feel. There are protocols to follow for a reason. Okay? Can you do that? Over.”

“Y-yeah, Ike. I’ve been doing this for a while. But it’s you, so you know, I figured I could be myself.” She sounded annoyed, but that wouldn’t last long. “Over.”

“I need to speak to General Lorenti. ASAP. Over.”

“I need a sitrep. Over. Has the aberration’s trajectory or speed changed?” She was trying to sound detached and professional, but he could still hear the worry in her voice, masked slightly by annoyance. “Over.”

“Please, just put him on the line. Over.”

“Protocols. Over.”

Ike didn’t curse often, reserving what his stepmother had once called ‘harsh language’ for special occasions. He had never once sworn at Katelin, but he came close now. With no time to waste, he followed his own advice and obeyed the protocols, which said that any request for communication with the higher ups—who were undeniably busy trying to organize the salvation of the human race—be made along with a situation report. “Outpost Hood is in imminent danger of being overrun. We have incoming Fobs. A new species. Too many to count. ETA…” He closed his eyes, running the calculations he should have before making the call. “One hour.”

It was a guess really. He didn’t know exactly how far away the Fobs were, and he didn’t know how fast they were moving, but they looked too close, and too fast. An hour was about how long it would take him to climb down the six thousand feet of steep trails to the Lodge, so he hoped they had at least that long.

“I need to know if we should attempt to repel the Fobs, or if we should evacuate. Timing is essential, Kate. Please pass this on, now. Over.”

He took his finger off the call button, waiting for confirmation. The radio remained silent. Was she already passing the information along? Was she panicking? Had the message even gotten through? Radio wasn’t always reliable.

He pushed the call button. “Kate, do you copy? Over.”

He waited again. Each second of silence felt like another nail in his coffin.

“Kate!” he shouted into the mic. “Do you copy? Over.”

Her reply came fast and firm. “I copy, Ike. But I’m not passing the sitrep on.”

He wanted to respond. Wanted to shout at her. To beg her why. But until she let go of her transmit button, she wouldn’t hear a word he said. Radios were great for communicating in a world on the brink. Not so great for lover’s spats.

“You’re going to listen to me, Ike. And you’re going to do what I tell you, not some general who sees you as an expendable asset, and not your mother, who is even more detached from her humanity than ever.”

Ike shouted and punched the radio table.

She’s going to get me killed. Going to get my men killed!

“So calm the fuck down, Ike, and listen.” Her language caught him off guard. Like him, she rarely used harsh language, and apparently she could also read his mind from across the country.

He sat still in the metal chair, gripping the sides, trying not to explode.

When she spoke again, her voice had changed. She sounded softer. Sad. “Ike…they wouldn’t let me tell you. Your mother wouldn’t let me tell you. She said you wouldn’t finish the tour, if you knew. I told her that was a good reason to tell you, but like I said, she’s detached. I’m not sure she sees you any differently than all the other soldiers she’s sent…” She sighed, long and hard. “Look, why I’m not passing this up the chain, and why you’re going to evac, now, without arguing…”

Ike’s fingers had gone flaccid. His whole body felt weak. He knew what she was going to say, and his thoughts were already turning toward abandoning the outpost—screw the consequences—but he needed to hear her say it. He needed to know for sure.

“You’re a father.” A pause, and then. “Over.”

Ike’s shaking hand clutched the mic. “A name? Over.”

“Edom,” she said.

Edom. One of the names they had talked about when fantasizing about the future. He had a son!

He lifted the mic to speak, but realized she still hadn’t disconnected yet.

“And Akiva.”

Akiva?
Was that Edom’s middle name? It was another of the more unique names on their list, but—

“Twins,” she said. “Over.”

Ike was stunned. His body shook from nerves and adrenaline. When he didn’t respond right away, Kate’s voice returned. “Ishah and Layla have been helping. They already have a brood. Five kids. Can you imagine? Ike, please tell me you’re coming home. Over.”

Ike crushed the call button down and said, “I love you. I’m on my way. Over and out.”

He heard her reply as he retrieved his gear and weapon, and flung himself toward the hatch. “Love you, too. Be careful.”

He didn’t bother closing the hatch behind him. He simply grasped the ladder’s metal sides with his fingerless gloves, placed his boots outside the rails and slid one hundred feet to the bare stone surface of Mount Hood’s summit. He ran for the trail, leaping stones and sliding over steep slopes. Before the outpost had been set up, Mount Hood was a technical climb. There were crevasses, rockslide threats and quickly changing, often freezing weather. But now, the southside path to the lodge was hewn into the stone face, the crevices were bridged, and the loose rocks had been removed. He knew the path well, but had never descended it so quickly. It was dangerous, but not nearly as much as having to fight off a horde of oversized Fobs.

He reached the lodge forty minutes later, out of breath, legs burning, but more determined than ever. He slowed to a fast walk as he approached the broad concrete staircase leading to the hotel’s massive stone façade, which was topped with an American flag. Shooting from the sand bag-walled doorway, which could be sealed if necessary, and the two octagonal windows on either side, they could repel an assault on the hotel’s front. But the building had weak spots, and it would take just one smart Fob to exploit those weaknesses. Not that they were sticking around.

Ike unclipped the handheld radio from his belt and raised it to his mouth. Before he could speak, the coughing of sound-suppressed gunfire filled the air. A moment later, it was followed by screaming.