The Tide: Breakwater (Tide Series Book 2) (21 page)

Navid forced himself to look up. Nondescript doors led off both sides of the hall. A myriad of offices and laboratories lay before them. But would any be safer than the labs they’d just fled?

“Just...pick...one...” he managed between wheezes.

Abby didn’t give him a chance to catch his breath and kept moving. She tried the first door to their right. It didn’t budge. Navid tried his hand at the next three doors but was met with the same result. They needed a janitor’s closet, an open office, anything where they could hunker down and prepare themselves for the next move.

But trying to search for an open door in a highly secured research facility was proving to be futile. The echoes of the creatures’ yells in the stairwell sifted out into the hall.

Abby whimpered as she tried another door, then another. Navid’s pulse throbbed in his ears. Frustration welled up in him. He yanked another door handle uselessly. He tried a different tactic. Lowering his shoulder, he backed up and then slammed against the door. It shuddered slightly but didn’t budge. Pain radiated across his shoulder. He tried again.
No use
, he thought.

“We’ve got to keep moving. Got to find somewhere else.” He ran to the end of the dark hall and sped around the corner. His feet slipped on the polished tile, and he almost lost his balance. As he recovered and stood straight, Abby froze alongside him.

“Navid...” The fear in her voice sent a shiver down his spine.

He looked up, peering into the shadows to see what had alarmed her. A dark shape lumbered. Malicious red emergency lights flashed over it. The thing twisted to look at them, cocking its horn-crowned head. A tattered white lab coat hung off the monster. Spikes and plates stuck out of its spine, and its fingers ended in sharp hooks. They clicked together, its hands tensing and relaxing. A low growl escaped its mouth as it approached.

Navid backed up, pressing himself flat against the wall. The creature’s eyes went wide, and it let out a wild howl. The noise was deafening. It bent forward slightly and then sprinted, the lab coat fluttering.

“Go! Go! Go!” Navid yelled, adrenaline forcing aside his exhaustion. He ran toward the stairs, where the other crazies were. He didn’t know where else to go, but he did know they wouldn’t make it past the beast in the hall.

The creature chasing them slammed into the wall, carried by momentum as it tried to round the corner they’d just left. Navid risked a glance. The thing picked itself up. It stood straight enough that sunlight poured over its face from a window. Crimson liquid dripped from its lips. And by the way the red chunks of flesh and blood were patterned around the creature’s mouth, Navid could tell the creature wasn’t injured; rather, it had been feeding on something—or someone.

The crazy beast bellowed. As it charged again, red spittle flying from between its serrated teeth, a chorus of distant howls echoed in response. The creature had called its brethren to the hunt.

Abby stopped, and Navid ran into her. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest. He opened his mouth to urge her on, but saw why she’d stopped.

Why she’d given up.

Another crazy stood at the opposite end of the hall, its body as twisted and grotesque as the first, marred by strange bony formations. Its flesh appeared gray under the plates and spines and spikes. In its eyes, a pure red fury pulsated.

Then another crazy tore out of the stairwell, followed by a second and third, shoving each other when they caught sight of Navid and Abby. The crazy behind them yelled again, sprinting down the hall. The others at the stairwell joined in, their screams and wails crashing against Navid like a tidal wave.

He thought these would be the last sounds he’d ever hear. Paralyzed by fear and clinging to each other, he and Abby would die, torn apart by these creatures.

No
, Navid thought.
No fucking way am I going out like this.

He reared back, tensing every muscle in his body, and threw himself at a door in a last-ditch effort to find an escape. The impact rattled his teeth. Agony radiated down his right arm.

The creatures were drawing closer. He imagined their hot breath washing over him and Abby as they were devoured alive. Navid ignored the throbbing pain in his shoulder and threw himself at the door again.

But the frame didn’t so much as crack. The door didn’t budge.

This was it.

––––––––

M
iguel held the rail above his head with his prosthetic. The helicopter hit a nasty headwind and shuddered. His heart leapt, but he kept his mouth straight and jaw clenched. A bead of sweat trickled from under his helmet and down his cheek. He stole a glance at Andris to see if the man had noticed.

But Andris was seemingly too enamored with the azure waves hundreds of feet below them to worry about Miguel.

“Sorry about the rough ride, gentlemen.” Frank’s voice echoed over the comm link. The pilot pulled up slightly on the cyclic. The AW109 steadied itself. “Windy day.”

Miguel pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. It was dry, a visceral reaction to the shaking of the vehicle. He’d always tried to put on a brave face, but he couldn’t help the instinctual reactions to a vehicle that seemed ready to explode.

He’d rather face a roomful of Skulls than ride in another Humvee over Al Qaeda territory, waiting for another IED to go off under his feet.

The memories before the explosion that day in the godforsaken dry heat of Afghanistan were hazy at best. Routine escort mission. Convoy over a dirt road followed by overwhelming heat. A blinding flash of tearing metal and licking tongues of flame. Air sucked out of his lungs. The left side of his body hurt for a moment then went numb. He’d later learned that third-degree burns had charred his nerves.

The next thing he remembered, he was waking up at a military hospital in Germany. He’d passed in and out of consciousness for a while, doped up on pain meds.

He remembered the intense itching on his ribs. He had moved his arm to scratch it, but his arm had felt lighter than usual. A strange, ghostly sensation. His arm had definitely hurt. Healing burns, he’d thought. He had tried to crane his neck to see what was going on. The small movement had strained his tight muscles and caused more pain than he expected. Then he had seen why he couldn’t get his fingers at the bandages to relieve the itching.

He had no goddamn fingers to scratch with. Nothing past his elbow. His stomach had twisted, and he’d almost vomited all over the crisp white sheets and bandages. But he’d fought the rising panic and controlled his breathing.

A nurse had wandered by to check on him with a chart in her hands. “Awake again. How’s the pain?”

Miguel had struggled to speak, swallowing hard to clear his mouth. His breath had felt hot and tasted sour. “Not...bad,” he had rasped.

“Good. Just hit this little guy if things get worse.” She had held up a white plastic button with a cord attached to his IV. He had almost reached for it with his left hand. His left stump, now. She had given him a pitying look, as if she had sensed his mistake.

He couldn’t stand the pity. Couldn’t stand the
oh, poor soldier
look she’d given him. She’d probably seen worse. Guys with all four limbs missing. Guys with their guts spilling out, their brains oozing out their skull. And what did he have? Burns up his side, mostly just on his ribs, and a stump arm.

He was alive, damn it. He was fucking alive.

“Need anything else?” the nurse had asked.

“Actually, I do have a request.” He’d tried to adopt a serious expression, but wasn’t sure, in the haze of the pain meds, what the hell he had looked like. “I seem to be missing an arm, so if you see it around, will you let me know?”

The nurse’s sorrowful blue eyes had lit up slightly. The corners of her lips had trembled ever so much. A tiny smirk. Miguel had grinned back, and the nurse looked at him with a hint of relief. Maybe a bit of joy that this grunt hadn’t come back angry, hadn’t lashed out at her for the injuries he’d sustained from some goddamn Al Qaeda bastard.

She had turned and walked away, but not before flashing him another small smile. “Let me know if you need anything, soldier. But between you and me, I think you’re going to do just fine.”

Long after he’d left the hospital, he never figured out what she’d meant by those last words. Had she meant he would recover physically? Or had she meant he was going to be one of the few guys who weren’t tormented by PTSD? Either way, he wasn’t sure she had turned out to be right.

The chopper jostled again, and Miguel cringed. The ghost pains in his prosthetic arm lit up, sending an electric wave through the ends of his stunted nerves. “Shit, Frank. You learn how to fly yesterday?”

“Nah, buddy. But they did take my pilot’s license away last week for landing on an old lady’s car.” The pilot shot Miguel a half-smirk before returning his eyes back to the land drawing nearer.

Miguel turned away from the bay and surveyed the almost empty chopper. Just him, Frank, and Andris. Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie teams were all drawn from a smaller pool this mission, too. It was a stinging reminder of the brothers he’d lost in the fight against the Oni Agent. The meager amount of humor he’d mustered to hide his physical and mental scars fled. Guilt replaced the void in his mind, as it had in the hospital.

Back at the hospital, as soon as he had quipped about his missing arm, he’d realized that he had no idea what had happened to the others in his squad. It turned out Philips, Vasquez, and Abbas wouldn’t have to worry about missing limbs or scars. None of them had made it home.

But he had to live with the fact that somehow fortune had favored
him
.

The AW109 passed over the Zodiacs, skimming the water’s surface. If he squinted, he could make out the tiny forms on the crafts. Aboard them was all that was left of the Hunters. They’d lost Henry and Brett. Glenn and Renee had at least recovered from their confrontations with the Oni Agent, but Miguel doubted Ivan and Scott ever would. Once again he was left wondering why fate had chosen him to live and taken others.

“There it is, boys,” Frank said. The Naval Academy appeared among a scattering of trees near the edge of downtown Annapolis. A few shapes meandered there, roaming in seemingly random paths. Skulls, no doubt.

The two Zodiacs trailed behind the chopper now. They would land well after Miguel and Andris had a chance to scout out the area from the sky. The chopper shuddered again, steel shaking against steel. Miguel’s arm tensed. He felt the muscles and nerves in his missing limb tense as well. A ghost of the past, never to leave him, always to remind him of everything and everyone he’d lost.

“ETA five minutes,” Frank said.

Miguel nodded and tightened the grip on his SCAR-H. He vowed that he wouldn’t let death take another Hunter today. Not a single goddamn one. If he died atop the chapel, ringing that bell and attracting every fucking Skull in the state of Maryland, at least he would die a hero.

***

“C
harlie, this is Alpha. What’s it look like on the ground?” Dom waited. The static in his earpiece settled.

“Copy, Alpha. This is Charlie,” Miguel replied. “We’re not seeing much. Scattered Skulls, most looking like lazy sons of bitches.”

“Can’t be too careful, Charlie.” Dom readjusted his position between Jenna and Owen in the Zodiac so he could better see the AW109 making its rounds over the Academy. “Remember how quickly they forget their lethargy when they see fresh meat.”

“Roger that.”

Spencer slowed the throttle, and the Zodiac sputtered. The motor noise lessened to a low gurgle in their approach to the basin. The docks were lined with yard patrol craft and sailboats. Their masts stood tall and bare as trees in the winter. Only four slips lay empty. At least someone might’ve escaped from the Academy, but judging by the sheer number of remaining boats, most people hadn’t been so lucky.

Dom held his binos to his face to better survey the area around the basin. A line of trees obscured the view of most of the campus. A few white buildings peeked out between the dense trunks. Shapes moved, shadowed by the leaves and branches. And though they remained largely in the shade of the trees, Dom could see enough of their ghastly silhouettes to tell they were Skulls.

Two long barriers sheltered the basin, leaving only a single way for seacraft to enter and exit. The Zodiac drifted toward it now.

“Bravo, Alpha. Do you copy?” Dom asked.

“Copy, Alpha,” Renee replied. “We’re mooring now.”

“As soon as you make contact with the survivors, you can give us the go-ahead. We’re in position now.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

The Zodiac started to drift into the entrance of the basin, carried by the choppy waves.

“Bring her back a bit, Spence,” Dom said.

Spencer nodded and rotated the throttle. The motor’s gurgle kicked up in volume as the Zodiac twisted away from the basin.

A growl echoed over the water in response. Dom turned, shouldering his rifle. A Skull burst through the trees. When it caught sight of them, it tilted its head back and let out a deafening bellow. More Skulls poured from between the trees and raced over the docks.

“Move, move, move!” Dom yelled.

There was no use in keeping the motor quiet now. Spencer gunned it, and the Zodiac kicked up a spray of water. They started to put distance between themselves and the charging Skulls. But not before one leapt from the end of the dock. Its clawed hands pinwheeled, and its mouth opened. An earsplitting shriek escaped from between its cracked lips. The beast caught the gunwale while its body splashed into the water.

Spencer kept the Zodiac pointed straight toward the bay and away from the basin. The Skull hoisted itself up, water sluicing off its skeletal growths and the rippling muscles that peeked out between the plates and spikes. It was a full six feet in height and wore the remains of a biker’s leather jacket, making it all the more menacing. Jenna and Owen adjusted their aim, but their rifles proved unwieldy at such a close distance. The beast sprang at Dom.