The Tide:

Deadrise

(The Tide Series Volume 4)

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Anthony J Melchiorri

August, 2016

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Table of Contents

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Also by Anthony J Melchiorri

About the Author

Books by Anthony J Melchiorri

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The Tide Series

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The Tide (Book 1)

Breakwater (Book 2)

Salvage (Book 3)

Deadrise (Book 4)

Iron Wind (Book 5)

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The Eternal Frontier

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Eternal Frontier (Book 1)

Edge of War (Coming 2017)

Shattered Dawn (Coming 2017)

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Black Market DNA

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Enhancement (Book 1)

Malignant (Book 2)

Variant (Book 3)

Fatal Injection

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Other Books

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The God Organ

The Human Forged

Darkness Evolved

The Tide: Iron Wind

Copyright © 2017 by Anthony J. Melchiorri. All rights reserved.

First Edition: February 2017

http://AnthonyJMelchiorri.com

Cover Design: Eloise Knapp Design

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

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-1-

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Ronald Reagan Washington Airport Metro Station

Arlington County, Virginia

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Dominic Holland marched along the deserted Metro track, following the dark tunnel into daylight. The other Hunters walked in his wake. They carefully trod between the steel rails and made their way to the station. Towering columns and arches heralded them onto the open-air platform. Discarded suitcases, backpacks, purses, and satchels lay splayed and spilling around the mosaic tiles.

They’d finally made it to the Reagan National Airport.

Sour waves of decayed meat drifted on the breeze, the rotten odor inescapable. Distant cries of hunting Skulls danced with the wind, reminding them of the terrifying new reality that had enveloped the United States. Then Dom spotted the source of the odor. It was yet another reminder of the price their country had paid in the days since the outbreak.

Meredith Webb sidled up to Dom, her rifle lowered to her side. “Good God.”

“So much death,” Dom said, shaking his head. He feared he was becoming used to sights like these.

His team caught up with them. Miguel Ruiz, Andris Jansons, and Renee Boland stood beside Dom and Meredith, with Glenn Walsh helping the injured Spencer Barret along. Jenna Reed still prowled with her rifle’s stock pressed against her shoulder, but her posture was less tense now. The ragged group bunched together at the side of the platform with their eyes on the gruesome tableau.

Corpses were piled in a corner. Bodies, some large and some depressingly small, had been left to rot. Flies swarmed in and out, buzzing an incessant drone.

“They haven’t been eaten,” Jenna said, nonplussed.

“Exactly,” Dom said. “We’ve never met a Skull willing to pass up a meal.”

“Which means, maybe,” Glenn said, his voice low and rolling, “if we’re lucky, the Skulls aren’t hanging around up here.”

Wasted meat was not a concept Skulls understood. The creatures had generally wreaked havoc on human populations and then devoured all morsels of sinew, organs, and flesh they could sink their demonic teeth into.

Renee turned away from the mess of corpses, pinching her nose. “Skulls or not, I don’t want to camp here.”

“Chief, who do you think did this?” Miguel asked. “I mean, if the Skulls didn’t kill them, who took their time to put a bunch of bodies in a pile?”

“My first guess is military. Or maybe it was some other pocket of resistance,” Dom said. “That might be a help or a hindrance.”

He saw the group instinctively check their dwindling ammo supplies. Since the outbreak, they’d learned to remain skeptical about not just the Skulls, but also other humans.

“We find guys with guns looking to help out, we could use the extra hands,” Glenn said, though he didn’t appear completely convinced by his own statement. “On the other hand—”

“On the other hand,” Dom finished, “if it’s military and they’re connected to Kinsey, they’re probably on the lookout for us. They’re going to want to finish the job they started at the NIH.”

He didn’t need to tell the other Hunters what was at stake. They already understood. General Kinsey wanted them dead or dragged in for questioning. Their ship, the Huntress, was likely under Kinsey’s control, and none of them knew what had happened to those aboard it. They’d tried to cling to the hope that the crew would be okay, but they shared an unspoken fear about the fate of those who had been aboard the Huntress when the US military had overthrown Dom’s stewardship of the vessel.

At least his daughters had escaped. Kara and Sadie were waiting for their father, and Dom wanted to make damn sure he reached them as soon as possible. He walked to the western side of the platform. It overlooked Crystal City, Virginia. A few buildings, mostly hotels, towered over the trees and roads. Tendrils of smoke twisted into the air. Flames tickled the inside of one office building with busted windows, making it look like some oversized, metallic jack-o’-lantern. Dom reached into his pack and snagged his binos. He scanned the streets. Skulls meandered in their familiar lethargic trance. They’d continue to wander like zombies until something riled them up. And once something grabbed their attention, Dom knew those creatures would make aggressive use of the jagged appendages and organic bony armor covering their once-human bodies.

Goliaths, too, lumbered along the street between crashed vehicles and overturned trash cans and fallen lampposts. The behemoths were studded with spikes. Elephantine tusks arced from their jaws, giving each a fierce underbite. Their massive arms swung by their sides as if the monsters were bulky, bone-covered gorillas, and their fingers ended in massive claws sharp enough to tear Dom’s body in half. The smaller Skulls scattered away from the giant beasts each time they took a step.

Traveling through the city wouldn’t be easy, but he hadn’t expected it would be.

All of the Hunters’ eyes were on him as he surveyed the other side of the Metro station. Short bridges led across the loading zone and into the airport. There was an array of police cars and a couple of Humvees. Two Skulls wandered aimlessly between the vehicles, but these looked ragged, possibly starving. Easy to take out if the damn things attacked. The sliding glass doors to the airport appeared intact. Even if they were locked, Dom and the Hunters could easily make an entrance. He walked back to the group.

“Here’s what we’ve got,” Dom said. “The supplies we gathered from the coffee shop before leaving DC aren’t enough to last the long journey back to the Huntress, wherever the hell she is now. The airport could still be full of food and bottled drinks. If not the shops and restaurants, then the storage facilities and service hallways behind those places.”

He patted his rifle meaningfully. “Most importantly, our ammo is limited. If we attract too much attention, we’ll be hard-pressed dealing with the Skulls in the streets. We might be able to raid the TSA’s stores for a little bit of ammo or scrounge up anything left behind by any other forces.”

“Hear, hear,” Spencer said, grimacing beneath the bandages covering his face. The man was still in obvious pain from the Drooler attack he’d endured at the NIH. The creature’s acid spray had left him with terrible burns. “And we’re running out of morphine. I’m a tough motherfucker, but this shit hurts.”

“Understood, brother,” Dom said. “We’ll check out the airport’s medical supplies.”

“And, Chief, what if we run into hostiles?” Miguel asked.

“You know what to do if they’re Skulls,” Dom said. “Dispatch them without hesitation. If they’re human, I trust you to assess the situation. If you think they can help, ask them to join us. Otherwise, stay frosty and stay out of sight. I don’t want to fight other people. Our real enemies are the Skulls and the Oni Agent.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” the Hunters replied.

“Let’s make this a quick in-and-out. Renee and Andris, search for ammo and weapons. Miguel and Jenna, grab food and water. Focus on high-calorie, high-nutrition food, got it?” The duo nodded. “Glenn and Spencer, keep our entrance to the airport secure. Let us know if you spot trouble. Understood?”

“Absolutely.” Spencer gave Dom a pained grin. The man seemed to appreciate being given some responsibility despite his injuries.

“Meredith and I will find medical supplies. Any questions?”

The Hunters shook their heads.

“Ready to rock and roll, Captain,” Jenna said, her fingers wrapped around her rifle.

“On my mark, Miguel take point. We’re going to cross the loading zone one at a time. I only spotted a few hostiles, but don’t let down your guard.”

The Hunters snuck across the short bridge to the loading zone. They ducked to remain under the cement lip along the sides of the squat bridge. At its end, Dom silently signaled Miguel to go first. The Hunter sprinted across the loading zone and hid behind a minivan. He gave Dom a signal to say all was clear. One at a time, the group weaved behind the vehicles and over the pavement. They joined up again near a large concrete planter full of dying flowers.

Dom pointed to one of the glass doors that led into the airport. Miguel dashed to it, peered inside, and then tried to open it. The door didn’t budge. Dom had expected as much. Miguel scanned the wide loading zone.

“Captain, can I be of assistance?” Andris whispered, motioning to a small allotment of C4 he had at the ready.

“Thanks, but we need something a little quieter,” Dom said. “Miguel’s equipped for this.”

There were plenty of doors to try, but Dom didn’t want to waste any more time. He motioned to Miguel. The Hunter nodded and opened a panel on his prosthetic arm. Two thin metal tools poked out. He inserted them into the keyhole and tapped on a small touchscreen display embedded in the arm. It took a few minutes, but his efforts were greeted with a slight click, and Miguel pulled the door open. He made a sweeping bow, motioning for the others to enter as if they were royalty and he was a humble servant.

The group filed into the atrium and formed a perimeter around the entrance to the ticketing counters. Toppled barriers, once carefully organized in winding lines to guide passengers, were strewn about the airy room. Expansive windows in the walls and ceiling let in warm sunlight. The pervasive smell of mold, mildew, and spoiled meat drifted through. But there were no bodies and no Skulls wandering about. The only remaining signs of human life were piles of dropped luggage.

Dom shot a series of swift hand signals to send his crew on their way. He and Meredith traced a path through a security entrance to the airport terminals. It went against Dom’s instincts to walk past the metal detectors and full body scanners carrying enough weapons to earn him a top spot on the No Fly list. Signs hanging from the ceiling helpfully pointed the way to the medical supplies he sought with a red-and-white cross beside an arrow.

An eerie sensation nagged at the back of his mind. Food wrappers, plastic cups, discarded bottles, and torn blankets covered the seats along the terminals. Here, too, they found plenty of abandoned baggage, but few corpses and no Skulls.

A glance at the airfield provided some insight. Black craters marred the lawn between cracked and destroyed runways. Planes lay in twisted heaps of bent metal. Skull corpses were everywhere, along with scattered bones and clothing. No doubt a battle between humans and Skulls had taken place. Judging by the pockmarked earth, Dom guessed the military had played a large role in eradicating the Oni Agent-infected creatures in the immediate vicinity. Dom caught Meredith’s eye, and she shook her head. A small gesture that spoke a multitude of emotions. Regret and sympathy for the loss of life. Worry and anxiety that this would be their fate and that of the crew and Dom’s family.

And despair. Despair in droves. 

Dom didn’t have time for despair. All they could do was keep moving. They followed the red cross signs down a barren hallway. A placard above a door announced they’d made it to the First Aid station. Across the door, a handwritten note gave details of a quarantine and subsequent evacuation of non-critical airport personnel. Now things began to make sense. An airport like this, so close to the nation’s capital, would’ve been shut down at the first sign of the Oni Agent outbreak. Flights would’ve been suspended and rerouted. Maybe the military had tried to clear it for reuse but had given up due to the damage on the runways. 

“Shall I?” Meredith motioned to the door handle.

“Go ahead.”

She bashed the handle, and the door swung inward.

Darkness bathed the room, and Dom flicked on his flashlight. The beam illuminated a whitewashed tiled floor and heaps of medical supplies piled on an exam bed. A low hiss drew his attention. His pulse quickened. Every nerve in his body lit up, ready for battle. He swung the flashlight at another exam bed. Leather straps secured a Skull to the bed. Atrophied muscles showed under its bone plates. Its mouth opened and closed slowly, revealing a dry, bloated tongue behind serrated teeth.

“Must’ve been left here before the evacuation,” Meredith muttered. She drew her knife and made short work of the monster. The creature’s head fell sideways against its shoulder, and blood trickled out of the new gash in its neck. Meredith wiped her blade clean on the soiled sheets under the Skull’s scrawny body and then replaced the knife in its sheath.

“Let’s start here,” Dom said, pointing to a metal cabinet. A lock signified that whatever was behind it was valuable—or at least addictive. That was where Dom expected to find the drugs Spencer so desperately needed to deal with the Drooler-inflicted damage. Dom cracked his rifle against the lock, and it gave way. He scanned the supply cabinet and snagged enough painkillers to make a drug dealer rich.

They moved on to another set of cabinets and shelves to gather more fresh bandages and medicine. They found only a single, half-empty bottle of antibiotics. Everything that hadn’t been under lock and key looked like it had already been ransacked. Once Dom judged they’d scrounged up all they could, he motioned to the exit.

They reached the airport’s entrance without incident. Miguel and Jenna were already waiting with Glenn and Spencer, ready to go with sacks of food and water that they distributed to the other Hunters’ packs. Dom glanced at his smartwatch. He’d give Renee and Andris five more minutes before daring to break radio silence. The two Hunters appeared well before that deadline with a few small duffel bags over their shoulders and wide grins on their faces.

“We found some ammo,” Renee said in a low voice. “Not enough to keep us in the game if we deal with too many hordes, but enough to use if we’re careful.”

“Great work,” Dom whispered.

Renee and Andris doled out ammunition along with extra sidearms. When they were finished, Dom gave them a few minutes to eat and drink. He thought of his daughters and wondered if they had enough to eat. Each day, each minute they spent apart, he worried for their safety. The same held true for the Huntress and the rest of the crew. They couldn’t waste a second. Traveling by land to find the ship would be slow and dangerous.

Before the others had finished eating, Dom used his smartwatch to project a small map onto the tiled floor. “Adam, my girls, and Navid are here.” He pointed to Mt. Vernon, George Washington’s historic estate. “We need to get out of Crystal City. There are docks and some shipyards along the Potomac once we do. Might be worth checking out.”

“Wouldn’t mind a raft to float on,” Miguel said.

“Yeah,” Renee said, finishing a protein bar. “Traveling through those claustrophobic Metro tunnels really makes you miss the ocean.”

“Unfortunately, the safest route to the river is through more tunnels,” Dom said. Renee appeared crestfallen. Dom pointed at the map again. “These buildings in Crystal City are connected by a series of tunnels. It’s like an underground network between the government offices and shopping centers, and it’s our best bet to get past the Skulls. We’ll enter here and make our way south.” Dom gestured to an office building on the map across from the airport. “No time to waste. Let’s move!”

The group retraced their steps across the loading zone and onto the Metro station platform. There, Miguel took point as they snuck down a stairwell to street level. The group hunkered behind an SUV that had rear-ended a fire truck. Dom could hear the echoing thumps of a Goliath’s heavy footsteps and the telltale click of Skull claws on asphalt. One wrong move now could spell disaster. After their brief rest at the airport, they were back in the real world where Skulls had climbed to the top of the food chain and humans were their prey, struggling to survive an ecosystem that had turned upside down.

Dom gestured to the office building he’d indicated earlier on his map. Several Skulls meandered around its entrance. They were flanked by bushes that half-concealed the steps leading below street level. He pointed to Miguel, Renee, Meredith, and Andris, then at the Skulls. The group acknowledged his command with slight nods. Dom counted down with his fingers. Three. Two. One.

The trio dashed across the street to the entrance. They were on the Skulls like wolves on deer. Blades flashed and sliced, cutting into the weak points between the Skull’s armor plates. Blood spilled over the concrete and splashed across the Hunters’ feet. They lowered the Skull corpses gently, then Miguel strode toward the edge of the bushes and gave Dom a signal that all was clear.

“You ready?” Dom asked Spencer.

The man’s bottom lip trembled. His gaze was glassy—a harsh reminder of the game Dom played by giving him pain meds. Too much would kill Spencer’s awareness. Too little would mean he would writhe in agony. After the fresh dose of opioids, he seemed slightly out of it.

“Grab an arm,” Dom said to Glenn.

The muscular Hunter nodded. “On it.”

“Jenna, take rear guard.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” she replied.

The group wound between vehicles and made it to the entrance. They were greeted by the other four, who watched with eyes alert and rifles bristling. A raucous rattle of bones and claws sounded just down the street.

There was a scream, followed by another.

Human screams.

Dom’s attention was piqued at once. He signaled for the others to lay low and looked out from the stairs and bushes. He aimed his rifle in the direction where he’d heard the screaming. A woman and a man had been sneaking toward the Hunters. Only their sneaking had failed and a Skull had caught sight of them. The pair disappeared under a carpet of frenzied, hungry Skulls. A Goliath barreled down the street and crashed into the smaller Skulls. It flung them out of its way despite their protesting howls. With its enormous hooked claws, it tore into the corpses and ripped them apart. It devoured an arm and leg whole.

Dom drew back into their meager shelter. “Miguel, get that damn door open,” he said.

Miguel nodded and started working on the lock. Dom’s heart pounded. The other Hunters’ faces were awash in pallor as Skulls swarmed over vehicles toward the slaughter. Dom wasn’t sure why the people had come out of wherever they’d been hiding. Maybe they were starving. Or maybe they were desperate to escape the city. He guessed they’d seen him and the rest of the Hunters.

They must’ve thought help had arrived.

But they’d made a fatal error.

The tearing of flesh and the howls of Skulls started to dissipate. The creatures dashed along the streets, riled up by the scent of blood and thrill of the hunt. If Miguel didn’t open the door soon, the group would be caught by one of the monsters still seeking fresh meat.

“Almost there,” Miguel said, fiddling with the touchscreen on his prosthetic. The lock clicked, and he swung open the door. The group started to file into the shelter of the underground tunnel.

A growl caused Dom to swivel. A Skull peered around the bushes. Its cracked lips drew back in a snarl, and it pounced. Dom dropped his rifle and dodged. He scrambled to grab the Skull and clamp its snapping jaws shut before the thing howled and called all the other Skulls to their position. Meredith prowled toward them with her blade at the ready. The Skull’s arms whipped wildly, and it kicked at Dom. He was losing his grip as the creature continued to struggle.

There was no easy way for Meredith to strike without risking impaling Dom. Instead of going for his own knife, Dom slammed the creature against the brick wall. He smashed its face into the wall over and over. It squealed, but its cries were muffled. Eventually, its body went still, and Dom lowered it to the steps.

Panting, he followed Meredith into the tunnel. She raised an eyebrow as if to ask if he was okay. He gave her a nod and wiped the sweat from his brow. But once they were underground, his heart began its hammering anew. His crew had frozen in the small hallway branching from the main tiled walkway. Various signs hanging from the ceilings advertised hair salons, convenience stores, cafeterias, and other buildings above. Dom was more interested in the pack of Skulls, almost a dozen deep.

He made a move toward Glenn and Spencer. But before he reached them, a Skull turned. Its bloodshot eyes locked with his. It cocked its head. The spikes lining its spine seemed to vibrate and then stood up straighter. It drew its claws back and let out a shrill cry. Then it charged.

-2-

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Medical Bay of the Huntress

Somewhere in the Chesapeake Bay

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Dr. Lauren Winters watched the plastic vial roll back and forth along the medical bay’s deck. It went under an exam bed as gentle waves rocked the ship. There was nothing inside. Just a container that had escaped its rightful place tucked away in a drawer. As a clinician and scientist, she valued a clean working space for the health of her patients and the integrity of her experiments. Organization had always been key in the ship’s cramped facilities, and she’d imparted her passion—maybe obsession—for careful organization to her team members Divya Karnik, Peter Mikos, and Sean McConnelly. They’d grown to appreciate or at least tolerate her penchant for ensuring every little thing, from the most important lab sample to a stray paperclip, was properly stored within the infirmary or laboratory.

“Bothers you, doesn’t it?” Peter said, nodding to the rolling vial.

“Sure.” Lauren shrugged. It was a hard gesture to accomplish with her wrists bound tightly together. She was crammed into a corner next to the rest of her team. She nodded toward the patient exam beds. “But not as much as watching them suffer.”

The survivors Dom’s group had found starving and dying in Boston’s Massachusetts General Hospital were in bad shape. The Weavers and their young son, Connor, and a man named Alex Li. These people had barely escaped the Skulls, and Lauren’s team had only just brought them back from the brink of death through diligent medical care and attention. Now they were deteriorating again. Dry, flaky skin awash with red sores. Flesh that hung loose around their bones. Eyes etched with deep, purple circles.

And they weren’t the only ones who needed medical attention.

First Mate Thomas Hampton lay in another bed. Bandages covered his shoulder and thigh. Already they’d soaked through with blood again. The hasty sutures put in place over the bullet wounds weren’t the rushed work of Lauren or her team. Thomas had been trying to flag down the purported US Coast Guard ships and helicopters that had overwhelmed the Huntress. The ships hadn’t radioed, and Kinsey’s men had subverted the Huntress’s comm equipment. But the First Mate hadn’t let that stop him from trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

That determination led to him being mistaken for armed resistance when he had arrived above deck. Thomas had been shot before he could even wave a flag. The Coast Guard had swarmed over the ship before Lauren could do anything about his wound. They’d rounded up everyone and put most of the crew in the overflowing brig. Lauren’s medical team and Chao’s communications team had been held captive in their respective stations in case they were needed.

Two guards watched over the med bay now. Each wore an expression of serious determination. They carried submachine guns and maintained stances that made Lauren feel as if there would be a gun battle any moment. She eyed the one closest to her with a military-issued name tape that said Turner. The man’s eyes surveyed the patients around the bay with a coldness that sent shivers down Lauren’s spine.

Alex groaned and tried to roll to his side. His eyes caught Lauren’s and conveyed a deep pain. It wasn’t solely physical agony; she could see shattered hope there as well. He had been saved once. And Lauren could see the question he wanted to ask: How many times will I be saved before someone lets me die? The mental torture and anguish Lauren imagined those survivors harbored broke her.

“You assholes need to let me help my patients,” Lauren said, trying to stand.

“Lauren,” Divya whispered.

A guard stepped forward and leveled his weapon at her. “Stand down.”

“Fuck that,” Lauren said. “You want to shoot a doctor in cold blood?” She forced herself to her knees.

“I said stand down!” The guard took another step and cocked his gun back as if he were going to deliver a blow to her face.

Lauren glanced at the name patch on his fatigues. He looked like he was only in his early twenties. Turner seemed a bit too stone-faced for Lauren’s liking. But maybe Smith was still impressionable, still willing to listen to reason. “Smith, these patients need our help! The Coast Guard is sworn to protect people, not to watch them die.”

Smith looked uncertain for a moment before his compatriot stepped in. “I don’t know what you people did. But our orders were to keep you here until we’re told what to do with you. Until we’re told otherwise, you’re not going anywhere.”

“You’re killing them,” Lauren said, her words laced with menace and contempt.

Turner opened his mouth to say something, but Smith held up a hand to silence him. They retreated to their posts near the hatch.

Lauren slumped. Her mind was still in overdrive. She needed to treat her patients. She needed to develop a defensive mechanism to counteract the acidic spray from Droolers. She needed to figure out why some of the Skulls were turning into Goliaths and determine whether they could stop it. She needed to find a vaccine or a cure that would eliminate the spread of the Oni Agent.

She needed to work.

But the plastic ties cutting into her wrists and the bulldog-faced guards wouldn’t let her. Anger was getting her nowhere. She waited for a few minutes in silence. The guards avoided eye contact with her and the others in the medical bay.

“I’m hungry,” Connor said to his mom.

Tammy Weaver tried to give him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“My tummy and my back hurt,” Connor said.

Lauren glared at Smith as Tammy tried to comfort Connor. The pulsating rhythm of the patients’ EKGs punctuated the uncomfortable silence.

“Look, gentlemen.” Lauren tried a different tack. “I don’t know what your brass thinks we did or didn’t do. But these people are innocent. They’re victims. We rescued them.”

She slowly stood, her expression wide-eyed and pleading. Smith seemed ready to cut her off again, but she continued before he could.

“You can keep the rest of my crew tied up if you want.” She looked at Divya, Peter, and Sean and offered an apologetic frown. “But let me help these people. Thomas needs fresh bandages and better sutures. If you’re trying to protect America, then protect what it stands for. If you still think he’s a criminal, put him up before a judge and jury or court-martial, if that’s what you prefer.” She knew full well courts of law might no longer exist, but she had to try to appeal to these men. “Let me at least keep them alive. Then you and your leaders can decide what to do with them. Don’t let death make the decision for you.”

Connor started to cry. She hated talking like this in front of the young boy, but now was no time to hold anything back. The guards remained steel-faced. Smith whispered to Turner and disappeared through the hatch and into the passageway. Lauren held her tongue, praying this was a good sign. Moments later the man came in with another guard, this one female. The guard stood near the hatch with the two men.

“She’ll take my spot,” Smith said to Turner and then faced Lauren. “Doctor, I will be on your back with a gun the entire time. I’ll fire if you so much as think about doing something funny. And after I shoot you, I’ll shoot the rest of your crew.”

Lauren nodded earnestly. “I understand. And I promise I won’t do anything so foolish.”

Smith yanked her wrists up violently. He cut the plastic ties away and then took a step back to put himself out of arm’s reach. Lauren moved with a deliberate slowness and held her hands up so he could clearly see what she was doing. She didn’t want to make a mistake that endangered her life or the others.

“I’m going to replenish their saline bags and nutrient drips, okay?” she asked.

Smith nodded but tightened his grip around his weapon. “Do what you need to do, but make it fast.”

The gun barrel followed her every move. Lauren walked between cabinets and drawers. After fixing their IV drips, she applied antibiotic gels and healing creams. She performed every task with the knowledge that her life might end at the subtle pull of a trigger any given second. She’d gone out in the field with Dom before, and she’d grown accustomed to working under pressure. But this was different.

Once she’d tended to the Weavers and Alex, she moved to Thomas. The man grimaced in pain. He’d never been given painkillers by the Coast Guard medics. They’d treated him with disdain and malignant neglect as if they’d already condemned him—judge, jury, and executioner.

“You holding up?” Lauren asked.

“No talking!” Smith barked.

Thomas shut his mouth. His face was ghost white, and sweat dripped across his wrinkled forehead, streaming from under his gray hair. He gave her a steely nod and closed his eyes as she peeled back the gauze to examine his wounds. There was an exit wound on his shoulder, signifying there was no bullet lodged in his flesh. It was bloody, but at least the risk of infection would be reduced.

Her investigation showed the bullet in his thigh was still embedded.

“We have to take it out,” Lauren said.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Smith replied, his eyes narrowed. “Patch it up, but no one’s getting surgery.”

Lauren furrowed her brow and pointed at the wound. “It’s shallow. I can remove it without anesthesia. It won’t be pretty, but I can do it.” She would have preferred Peter handle the procedure. The man was a talented surgeon. Surgery wasn’t her forte, but she knew pressing her luck was a bad idea. Anyway, she had something else in mind. “I just need a few supplies.”

She returned to the medicine cabinet. Her gun-toting shadow never strayed far as she snagged fresh sutures and surgical tools. She made a show of reaching for an empty spot in a cabinet.

“Damn,” she said, then rubbed her temple.

“What?” Smith asked.

“We’re out of clean gauze.”

“I find that hard to believe. A ship like this runs out of gauze? What are you playing at?”

“No, I mean, we just don’t have any here.” Lauren placed the tools in a metal tray and brought them to Thomas’s bedside. “We’ve got plenty of gauze stored in our supplies, but that’s in the cargo bay.”

The guard eyed the cabinet, then Lauren. She prepared several arguments in case he insisted he could go find the gauze for her.

“Then let’s go get it,” Smith said.

She stopped short of audibly sighing in relief. It wasn’t that she planned to do anything rash, but she wanted to see firsthand the current situation of the ship. Smith led her into the passageway and then prodded her through the corridor with the muzzle at her back. The hatch to the electronics workshop was open.

She stole a quick peek inside. Chao and Samantha were both tied to a post in the corner. Samantha had a black eye, and her knuckles were bleeding. Lauren stifled her grin. The comm specialist hadn’t given up without a fight. Samantha looked through the hatch and caught Lauren’s eye. Samantha gave her a furtive wink, which Lauren returned before being urged on by Smith.

These people might already think the Huntress was theirs and that the battle was won. But it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Just like Samantha, Lauren wouldn’t give up. They’d find a way to regain control of the Huntress. That shared wink had been enough to remind her that the whole crew would do anything in their power to get these invaders off their ship.

“Come on,” Smith said. “I want to get this over with.”

“Oh, of course,” Lauren said as she ducked through the hatch to the cargo bay. “It won’t take too long.”

And it won’t be too long before we take our ship back.

***

Kara Holland watched Adam Galloway hunch over the comm equipment he’d taken from the Huntress. There was a myriad of small electronic bits and pieces she didn’t quite recognize laid out across the counter of the gift shop at Mt. Vernon. She wanted to learn everything she could about the equipment but didn’t want to bother the comm specialist now. He seemed to be hyper-focused on the task. While he worked, she could at least make herself useful. An open door in the gift shop led to the site’s restaurant.

There, red-and-white wallpaper lined the gloomy room. Sunlight filtered in between the heavy canvas curtains and illuminated dust motes floating in the air.

“Looking for some grub?” Navid Ghasemi asked, his shirt pulled over his nose. He and Adam had helped them escape from the Huntress when it was taken. Now all they had to do was wait for her dad’s team to arrive. But first, they needed to eat.

Kara pinched her nostrils closed. “Smells awful.”

“No kidding.”

Kara’s little sister, Sadie, came out from the kitchen holding a plastic bag filled with brown liquid and the remains of what used to be some kind of fruit or vegetable. Maggie followed, tail wagging and tongue lolling as if the odor was the best thing she’d ever experienced.

“What do you think this is?” Sadie asked. “Isn’t it gross?”

“Yeah, so why are you carrying it?”

“Looking for the good food. Navid said we should get all the rotten stuff and throw it away.”

“Not just throw it away, but bury it,” Navid added. “You can practically smell this restaurant from all over the estate.”

“Doesn’t sound like a terrible idea,” Kara said. “I’ll help.”

She regretted those words as she helped Navid and Sadie fill trash bags full of meat and fruits with green and black stuff growing all over them. A dense fog of buzzing flies droned around the shelves and refrigerators, and squirming white maggots poked out of the slabs of uncooked poultry and beef. She swore one of the steaks almost ran away when she reached for it.

“Maggie, get out of there!” Sadie yelled. The dog backed from a drawer filled with mold-covered bread.

“Got to dig past the dirt to get to the diamonds,” Navid quipped.

He seemed almost happy. But he’d been through far too much to really be in such a good mood, Kara thought. They all had. Maybe this mindless task was just enough to keep Navid from dwelling on the girlfriend he’d lost. She’d apparently turned into a Skull before his eyes, and he’d been forced to kill her with his own hands.

Kara shuddered, her mind wheeling back to the transformation she’d seen in her mother. She wondered what kind of skeletal monstrosity her mother had become, locked in their basement back in Frederick. If only someone had offered her mother the mercy Navid offered his girlfriend by ending her suffering before she’d become a Skull.

“You good?” Navid asked, lugging another trash bag outside.

Kara walked alongside him with her own bag, focusing on the waves of overgrown grass flowing in the wind over the estate. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

They set the bags in a dumpster behind the restaurant.

“Silly to put it in here, huh?” Kara said.

“I know. No one’s coming to take our garbage anytime soon. But it can serve as a staging area until we figure out what to do with it.”

Kara used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead. The sun glared overhead, but a crisp autumnal breeze rustled the leafless branches. She could feel goose bumps prickle across her skin despite the sweatshirt she wore emblazoned with George Washington’s portrait. Navid closed his eyes and soaked in the sunlight and fresh air for a moment. He wore a matching sweatshirt taken from the gift shop. They might not have as much food as they’d hoped for, but clean clothes were plentiful if not fashionable. He leaned against the brick wall of the restaurant.

“I’ve missed this,” he said.

Kara raised an eyebrow. She was itching to get back to work, but she realized she’d never really sat down and talked to Navid about anything other than their immediate survival or the quest for a vaccine for the Oni Agent. “You miss what?”

“The quiet.” He opened his brown eyes again and stared earnestly, almost unnervingly, into hers. “Boston was always full of noise.”

Kara imagined Navid stranded in the Boston hospital. She must’ve let her sympathy play across her face because he waved his hands in a supplicating gesture.

“I’m not talking about after the Oni Agent,” he said. “I mean, it was noisy then. The screams, the howling. The claws on concrete.” He shivered, and Kara could tell it wasn’t from the breeze. “Abby and I lived in the city for our entire undergraduate and graduate school careers.”

“Your girlfriend, right?” Kara asked.

Navid nodded.

Kara gave him a look that she hoped conveyed her sympathy for him.

“I never took as much time off with her as I should have,” he said, nodding. “I should’ve been outside that damned lab more. We could’ve gone hiking. Or maybe camping for the weekend. Just get away from the city.”

Kara smiled. “I know what you mean. Some of my best memories are of hunting trips with my dad.”

Navid looked almost shocked. “You hunt?” Then he allowed himself a laugh. “Guess that’s why you seem so at home around guns. I hadn’t ever touched a gun before Adam took us off the Huntress.”

“Yeah,” Kara said. She thought about her father, who had hidden a secret life as a freelance CIA contractor from them. She thought about her mother, trapped in the basement of their former home, turned into a mindless killing machine by the Oni Agent. She thought about everything that had changed and been taken from her and never would be the same again. But at least she still had her sister.

Her heart skipped a beat. Sadie had been right behind them with a trash bag, so where was she? Kara lunged into the restaurant with Navid at her heels.

“Sadie? You lounging on the job?”

There was no answer. Maggie didn’t bark, either, and the golden retriever hardly ever left the younger girl’s side.

“Sadie?”

Still no response.

“She’s probably with Adam,” Navid said. He ducked into the gift shop. “You seen Sadie?”

Adam looked up from the radio parts. “No.” He stood straighter, and his hand shot to his holster. “Is she missing?”

“I don’t know,” Kara said. She rushed back to the restaurant. Navid and Adam followed. Then she spotted the open front door. It led to a sidewalk and an empty parking lot. Sadie was nowhere in sight. “Damn it!”

“It’s okay,” Adam said. “Probably no reason to get worried. I’ll check out the woods along the parking lot. Why don’t you two follow the trail to the gardens? Maybe she just went to walk Maggie.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Kara said doubtfully.

“It’s getting dark. Grab a couple of flashlights, okay?” Adam said, heading out the door.

“Got it,” Navid replied.

Kara picked up a flashlight and then began jogging down the path. Navid ran beside her, not saying a word. They rounded the building and made their way past lines of bushes and wooden fences. Withered sunflowers whipped in the wind. Little placards announced the various plants they passed. Some had survived a world without attentive gardeners; some had not.

“Sadie?” Kara called. She didn’t want to attract any Skulls that might be lingering in the woods at the edges of the massive estate, but she couldn’t help the urgency in her voice.

“We’ll find her,” Navid said. His reassuring smile looked forced.

The masquerade didn’t convince Kara. She’d already abandoned her mother to her fate as a Skull. Navid’s girlfriend had shared that same horrible damnation. There was no way she’d let Sadie turn into one.

“Sadie! This isn’t funny! Where are you?”

She finally heard Sadie’s voice. But it wasn’t an apologetic reply. It was a bloodcurdling scream.

-3-

––––––––

Meredith watched in horror as the Skull sprang at Dom. The other Skulls turned and charged. Their armored plates scraped together, and their howls echoed in the corridor. Dom sprinted to meet the first Skull. He barreled into it with a flash of metal against bone. Clawing and scraping, the Skull flailed at him, but he wrestled the beast away and slammed it into one of its brethren.

“Conserve ammo!” Dom called. He smashed the stock of his rifle into the Skull and rammed the monster into the wall. Its horns cracked off, and its head split open.

Meredith joined the fray with another. This one wore a soiled pantsuit that hung off its jutting spikes in tatters. A pearl necklace was tangled between the coils of muscle and bony plates. The monster came at her in a flurry of skeletal appendages. But the more time she’d spent in the field, the more she had grown accustomed to such furious assaults. She easily dodged the monster and lashed out with her boot. The kick sent the Skull sprawling.

Miguel lunged and twisted his wrist. His knife flicked out of his prosthetic, and he stabbed the blade straight through the creature’s eye. Blood pooled around the creature’s slumped body.

There was no time to celebrate the flawless teamwork.

The Hunters methodically parried and dodged the Skulls’ blows. They fought with knives and gun stocks and even fists. The last of the screaming, scattered Skulls fell to the floor with a thud. Dom removed his knife from a monster’s neck and replaced it in his thigh sheath. He looked around at the others and used the back of his hand to wipe a fleck of blood from his face.

“Everyone good?”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” they chorused.

Meredith strode over to Dom and clasped his shoulder. “We’re getting better at this.”

“I wish we didn’t have so many opportunities for practice, though. Wouldn’t it be nice to simply walk down the street—”

“Or through the Crystal City shopping tunnels?” Meredith added.

“Or the tunnels,” Dom agreed, “without running into those damn things?”

“Couldn’t agree with you more, Chief,” Miguel said. He flexed the fingers on his prosthetic. “This thing’s put up with a lot of abuse. Chao sure knows how to make ‘em. I want him to add an insert that sprays acid like the Droolers.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Jenna said as they started to pick past the Skull corpses. She let out a low whistle in admiration. “Man, the way that acid eats through the Skulls’ armor.”

“Better than bullets,” Renee said.

The group came to the end of the corridor. Glass doors and a security cage separated them from the next length of tunnels. Meredith used her glove to wipe away some of the dust and grime that had settled over the glass. She peered through. A pit formed in her stomach.

“Good God.” She leaned back. “Dom, take a look.”

The captain gazed through and shook his head, seeming to deliberate for a moment.

“What’s up?” Glenn asked.

“Skulls,” Meredith said. The sight played across her mind again. Skulls lumbered between overturned tables and chairs. They meandered in and out of the coffee shop and convenience store lining the hall. She recognized the bookstore where she’d come once to kill time before a meeting with another national security official. So long ago, it seemed. Back then people had filled these corridors. Now, those people were Skulls. Or just dark stains and splintered bones under the Skulls’ feet. She exhaled slowly. “A lot of Skulls.”

“We need to go through,” Dom said. “It’s bad, I won’t lie. But it’s better than aboveground. At least these are contained. We’ll funnel them into a chokepoint and take more conservative shots to bring them down.”

“So we can use guns this time?” Andris asked.

“Definitely. In fact, it’s encouraged.” Dom quickly relayed his plan for taking out as many as possible using the element of surprise. The group created a series of barriers behind the doors with overturned tables and shelves pulled from an ice cream parlor. When they were in position, Miguel worked his magic with the security cage’s lock and helped Dom roll it up. Then Dom crouched behind a table with Meredith.

“You ready for this?” he whispered.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Miguel unlocked the glass door and slid it back. He opened it as wide as possible to allow for broad lanes of fire. Each aimed their suppressed rifles down the corridor. Meredith held her breath as she waited in anticipation for Dom’s signal.

“Fire!”

The whoomph of muffled gunfire surrounded Meredith. She squeezed the trigger, sighting up a Skull with short, stubby claws and a single crooked tooth poking from its lips. Rounds lanced into the monster. Its head snapped backward, gore spurting from the exit wound. She didn’t wait to watch it drop before turning her sights on the next. The Hunters worked swiftly, aiming and firing with deadly accuracy. Skulls thudded across the tiled floor. Corpses piled up.

While Meredith drew a bit of satisfaction from each lifeless Skull, she knew not to get her hopes up. Sure enough, more beasts trickled out of the bookstore and the coffee shop. They knocked over shelves and spilled books. Another rammed into a table on its way out. The monster tumbled over it, knocking aside the chairs. More creatures trampled the fallen Skull. The crunch of bones, muffled gunfire, and collapsing bodies was enough to rile the hornets’ nest. The shooting grew more rapid. Meredith switched from Skull to Skull as soon as one dropped. The process became almost second nature. Catch one in her optics. Squeeze the trigger. Move on to the next. But she still wasn’t quick enough.

Skulls howled and wailed. They scrambled down the corridor after the Hunters. Their claws scratched against the floor. The monsters were met with a hail of lead, but they kept coming. Meredith’s heart pounded as fast the automatic gunfire around her. Her vision tunneled, and she focused down her lane. She saw flashes of gunfire, splashes of blood, and the off-white and creamy yellows of the Skulls’ organic armor. Bits of flesh and fragments of bone flew. Frenzied Skulls tumbled after each other.

Still, more poured out of the branching hallways and smaller stores along the passage.

“Reloading!” Glenn bellowed.

Meredith could barely hear the metallic click of his new mag being shoved into place. She fired until her rifle went dry and rapidly reloaded. The Skulls, by sheer force of numbers, pushed through the storm of bullets. She could smell their half-rotten flesh, the telltale sign of the Oni Agent nanobacteria perverting human anatomy into the monsters before them now. The meager tables and shelves the Hunters used as barriers wouldn’t be enough to hold back this wave of creatures.

More rounds cut into the Skull ranks. Shouts from the Hunters reached Meredith’s ears. The monsters came at them, tearing through the barricades like termites through wood.

“Fall back!” Dom ordered.

Meredith stood but never let her muzzle stray from the Skulls. The other Hunters did likewise. They slowly retreated, maintaining a line of fire. Meredith stole a glance behind her. There wasn’t much room left. Soon the Hunters’ backs were pressed against the door they’d first entered. There would be no going outside. Bringing the fight to the streets would only make their problem worse. They had to finish these off or else face certain death themselves.

“Split up!” Dom yelled. He directed the Hunters to take various smaller hallways that branched off the main corridor.

Meredith, Miguel, and Dom started backing down one hall. Miguel tripped over a chair. His rifle chattered, and bullets plunged through the ceiling tiles. Dust rained down, and two Skulls lunged toward them. Dom batted one with his rifle, shot a round into its gaping mouth, and kicked the creature back into the crowd.

With her rifle’s stock, Meredith bashed the other Skull’s head. It left a massive crater, but the beast continued to snap at her. Saliva flew from between its serrated teeth. She fired. Three rounds square into its face silenced it for good.

A sudden hissing was followed by a distinctive gurgling.

“Drooler!” Meredith shouted before she could see it.

“Where the fuck is it?” Dom yelled.

The mass of raking claws, bloodshot eyes, and crowns of bony horns left little room to spot the Drooler. Missing one when it was ready to fire meant someone was going to get bathed in acid. The gurgling grew louder.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Miguel yelled, playing his rifle back and forth over the clamoring pack of Skulls.

Meredith fired into the three Skulls leading the swarm down the narrow hallway. The bodies dropped. Just before the gap in the crowd was filled in again, she spotted a Skull with half its lower jaw eaten away. Brown liquid oozed out of holes in its neck and concave chest.

“There it is!” she said.

Miguel jumped and clamped his fingers around the Drooler’s neck as the gurgling intensified. Liquid dropped and streamed over his fingers. His skin sizzled, and Meredith’s eyes went wide. Then she realized it wasn’t Miguel’s actual flesh, just his prosthetic. But it didn’t take long for the oozing acid to eat away the silicone cover of his arm and leave nothing but a cyborg-like appendage.

“Bastard!” Miguel tossed the Skull into the middle of the horde of Skulls. He stood atop the chair he’d tripped over earlier and sprayed gunfire to where he’d lobbed the spindly, gurgling Drooler. The monster’s body popped and hissed. Acid spewed from its wounds and doused the other Skulls. They went down in a fleshy tangle of dissolving limbs and swatting claws.

It was enough to cause confusion in their ranks. Dom and Meredith added to the pressure, pushing forward and firing more aggressively. Muffled gunfire sounded louder from the other halls where the rest of the Hunters had retreated. Soon the group was rounding up the Skulls into the central hallway again. Spent casings pinged off the walls and corpses as the Hunters fought for each step.

Sweat trickled down Meredith’s neck. The smell of spilled blood and cordite hung in the air. A lanky, loping Skull came at her and hammered its fists down. She sidestepped and ended its life with a short burst of gunfire. The Skulls’ cries became more sporadic until the last ones fell.

One of the dying creatures dragged itself across the ground, its legs twisted and gnarled. Meredith landed her boot in the back of its head. Its teeth broke on the tiled floor, and its skull caved in. Her chest heaved, and the tac vest started to feel heavy on her torso. Exhaustion slowly replaced adrenaline.

But they had won.

Dom wrapped one arm around her. “You okay?”

She nodded and pulled a strand of hair from her eyes. “Yeah, I think so. You?”

“No scratches here.”

The other Hunters rounded up their packs and slowly assembled amid the carnage. They each reported good health but depleted ammunition. They would be hard-pressed to survive another close encounter, but they had no other choice but to go forward into whatever dangers lurked. Meredith knew there would be no sitting and resting, no regrouping with Dom at the helm. He had a family to find and a ship to take back.

The occasional Skull met them as they cleared the remainder of the lengthy tunnel. The single creatures were nowhere near as frightening or dangerous as the swarm had been. Still, Meredith vowed not to let her guard down. Even a lone Skull could spell death.

“Let’s go up to the fifth or sixth floor,” Dom said as they reached the southernmost stairwell leading up from the tunnel. “I want to get a better view of what we’re heading into next.”

Their boots clacked on the steps as they hurried up the stairs and landings of what had once been an office building. But as they made it to the top, they soon realized there was no fifth or sixth floor. Rather, there had once been a fifth floor. Also a sixth and seventh and eighth based on the placards Meredith had seen along the stairwell. She was the first to set foot on what remained of the fourth floor. She opened the door onto a wide expanse of charred rubble and naked scaffolding. Piles of crumbling brick and broken pipes lay across the burned carpeting. There were no intact windows. At best, a few shards of glass hung around gaping holes in the side of the building. The winds shifted. Soot poured from an enormous crater in the center of the room that led all the way to the first floor. Entire columns had collapsed.

Meredith climbed over a jumble of struts and beams. The sky was already darkening. Tiny pinpricks of stars had started to show in the enveloping blackness, easily visible now that the ceiling and upper floors had been demolished. She trudged to the edge of the building and poked her head out of a gaping hole.

Dom stood beside her. “Holy hell,” he muttered.

All around the building lay a wasteland of toppled buildings, husks of vehicles, and deep craters. It looked like the pictures of European cities leveled during World War II or maybe war-torn Syria. This couldn’t be America.

“This is what it’s come to,” she said.

Dom reached for her hand. He interlaced her fingers in his. “I guess so.”

The remains of Skulls and humans alike were strewn over the battleground. Someone had thought indiscriminate firepower would be the solution to an engineered disease. Meredith knew that wasn’t the answer.

Science and medicine, real research. That was the only way to stop the Oni Agent.

-4-

––––––––

Unknown Location on the Potomac River

––––––––

A run-down store stood on the edge of the forested path. Commander Jacob Shepherd weighed the stone in his hand. He threw it at the window in the store’s door. Glass shattered and rained down onto the gravel pathway below. He pulled the long sleeves of his jacket over his hand and brushed away the remaining jagged shards. With all the deftness of a first-time thief, he reached through the busted window and clumsily unlocked the door. It swung open, creaking on its rusted hinges.

“Inside,” Shepherd said, ushering the two midshipmen who’d joined him on his escape into the confines of the small space. He went in after. Each played their guns around the meager shelves and the couple of wooden tables. Atop the tables stood stacks of camping supplies: kerosene lamps and fuel, dusty flashlights, and cast iron skillets.

Shepherd unboxed a lantern and lit it. The flickering light cast a series of dancing shadows across the store. Then he nodded to the hiking packs on a display.

“Grab those first,” he said. “Fill them with food and water. Make sure you take some knives. Shovels and axes as well.”

He made a mental list of the tools they’d need to survive the wilderness—and the Skulls. Rachel, the more senior of the midshipmen, didn’t delay in putting her pack together. Rory, too, worked diligently to execute his orders. Shepherd couldn’t help but admire the two cadets’ adherence to military discipline and urgency. Since he’d rescued them from that underground prison in Virginia, they’d treated him like their new XO, and he appreciated having them on his team.

But despite having subordinates, he no longer felt like a commander. He glanced at the broken glass twinkling in the lantern light. No, he felt more like a homeless refugee desperate to make it in an unfamiliar land. He had no idea how his real command, Fort Detrick, had fared after his arrest for suspected treason and conspiracy.

“Sooner we get this stuff, sooner we can get to Kent Island,” Rachel said, almost more to herself than to Shepherd and Rory.

“Right about that,” Shepherd said as he examined the canteens. “Dom and Meredith need to know Kinsey and the CIA believe they’re involved with the Oni Agent.”

Rory huffed. “That fucking sucks, sir.” He straightened. “Excuse my language—”

“No apologies necessary, cadet.” Shepherd almost grinned. Almost.

“Well, as long as those guys think the Hunters are responsible, that means the real bastards”—Rory looked to Shepherd for approval. Shepherd nodded—“are still out there getting away with who knows what.”

“Exactly,” Shepherd said. He tested the weight of his pack and decided he could carry a few more pounds. He packed several tarps they could use for shelter. “The sooner we reach Kent and get that radio Dom gave you, the better.” He tossed each of them a sleeping bag. “We’ll camp here tonight. I haven’t seen many Skulls, and at least we’ve got four walls to protect us.”

The trio settled down. Shepherd took the first watch. He turned off the lamp and watched the clouds float past the stars through the broken door window. The sound of chirping crickets and the hoot of an owl reassured him nothing was prowling clumsily through the undergrowth looking for its next meal of human flesh.

The thought made him sit up straighter, checking the exits to make sure they were still secure. Even if he hadn’t been on guard, Shepherd didn’t think he could manage sleep. Too many thoughts rushed through his mind. Rustling from another sleeping bag proved he wasn’t the only one with the issue. While Rory’s eyes were closed and his chest seemed to be rising and falling with the slow rhythms of sleep, Rachel was staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open.

“What’s bothering you?” Shepherd asked in a low voice.

Rachel sighed. “Even if we do warn Captain Holland, what then?”

“What then?” Shepherd parroted her words. He knew what she was asking. What would they do? Radioing Shepherd wouldn’t change Kinsey’s view of the Hunters or of Rachel, Rory, and Shepherd. Kinsey saw them as terrorists and traitors. They had nothing concrete or substantial to counter whatever faulty intelligence Kinsey was operating with.

This certainly wasn’t the only time someone had looked to him for guidance in dark times. People had looked to him for all the answers when Fort Detrick almost fell to the Skulls. Twice. He’d been forced to lead the entire base when the commander before him had been killed by a Skull. And he’d risked his own ass, knowing it was worth it to save the military and civilians sheltered behind the base’s makeshift walls. He’d always believed the correct course of action was the one that saved the most lives—something he knew Dom Holland believed, too, despite what Kinsey might think.

Now, in a world where the people he’d sworn to protect had been altered by a biological agent into the most fearsome weapons the US had ever seen, Shepherd wasn’t sure how to answer Rachel’s simple question.

But that didn’t mean he would give up trying to do the right thing. “Until we clear our names, I doubt Kinsey or the CIA will be sympathetic to our cause. We need to do what we can, though.”

Rachel perked up. “And if we can’t stay in Kent or Fort Detrick...”

“Then we’ll have to join the Hunters.”

***

Alexandria was a wasteland. There was no easy way to put it. From his roost in the destroyed building, Dom surveyed the once-charming Old Town, which had been lined with restaurants, bars, art galleries, and niche shops. Through his night-vision binos, Dom could make out the occasional silhouette of a Skull lumbering through the ruins. He had a difficult time estimating the number of deformed creatures meandering the streets. There were no good sightlines given the jumbled madness of crumpled vehicles and uneven brick walls that had been blasted to oblivion.

“It’ll be hell trying to make it through the city,” Dom said to Meredith. She crouched beside him. “Fastest route is definitely going to be the river.”

“I didn’t see many Skulls out for a swim,” she said.

“That’s true, but it’s not Skulls I’m worried about.”

Meredith arched an eyebrow. “There’s a marina just over there.” She pointed to a small dockyard filled with sailboats. Many listed in their slips, but a few masts stood upright, apparently ready to sail. “Find a working boat and sail it to Mt. Vernon. Couldn’t be any easier, right?”

“Wishful thinking.” Dom nodded to indicate a scattering of lights across the river. These were no random fires but electric lights. “That’s Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling. Kinsey mentioned he’d be mustering troops in strategic locations around DC.”

Meredith sighed. “Not a bad place to have under his control.”

“Right. Based on how they tried to stamp out the Skulls in Alexandria and Dulles, I’m guessing there are a few soldiers over there.”

“Okay, sure,” Meredith said. “But it’s not like we’re going over there and ringing their doorbell like a couple of Mormon Elders. I say we take a boat, right now while it’s dark, and shoot straight south. They won’t have to know it’s us on the boat.”

“I don’t think they care who’s aboard. They aren’t taking any chances.” Dom gestured toward Alexandria and the evidence of haphazard bombing that had taken place. He recalled the images of bodies, Skulls and humans, they’d seen in the streets outside Crystal City, too. Judging by the look on Meredith’s face, she understood his point. “They’re a bit overzealous. A boat would be great. It just isn’t wise to sail right next to a military base.”

Meredith chewed her bottom lip, and her brow creased in thought. “Wish we didn’t have to decide whether it was safer to risk bullets or Skulls coming our way.”

“Me too,” Dom said. “But maybe we can test the waters, so to speak.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Dom went over his idea for a plan with Meredith. Together, they worked out a few kinks, and they decided it would be worth the gamble. Taking a boat was too good of an opportunity to pass up and would ensure they didn’t waste precious hours and even days trekking across dry land to reach their objective. He couldn’t wait to reunite with his daughters, his crew, and his ship.

-5-

––––––––

Dom pressed the binos to his eyes. He first spotted Glenn and Miguel waiting in the woods bordering the marina. The duo was crouched behind a pair of tree trunks with their rifles at the ready. Jenna and Andris guarded the pair from any potential Skull attacks from the city. Ahead of the group, Meredith and Renee prowled near the edge of the parking lot leading to the docks.

“How are they doing, boss?” Spencer asked. The man had stubbornly refused to rest, insisting that a little pain wouldn’t keep him from helping out.

“Almost there,” Dom said, never taking the binos from his eyes.

He scanned the opposite shore where the Joint Base was. The electric lights were still burning, but he saw no activity to indicate the soldiers there had noticed them. Right now, the human threat worried him more than the Skulls.

Meredith and Renee proceeded stealthily to the boathouse. They paused and looked up toward Dom’s position.

“Clear to proceed,” Dom said.

The women crept along the marina until they reached the docks. They lay flat on the boards, watchful and waiting. Dom’s nerves started to course with electricity; he preferred to be in the thick of the action rather than managing it. But the Hunters needed a leader, an eye-in-the-sky, to organize the mission.

“No indication you’ve been spotted,” Dom said. “Andris, Jenna, you got eyes on any hostiles?”

“Negative,” their voices came back.

“Miguel, Glenn, shift so you can see the entire dock. Focus on anything that moves.”

Glenn and Miguel inched through the foliage. Glenn kneeled and peered down his optics. Miguel went prone and aimed his rifle across the dock.

“We’re in position,” Miguel reported.

“Good,” Dom said. “Renee, Meredith, go find us a ride.”

The duo moved like ghosts between the sailboats. They checked over the few that remained upright, examining the hulls for damage. They finally stopped near a boat they apparently liked.

“Think we found her,” Meredith said.

“Copy that,” Dom said. “Proceed.”

Meredith hopped inside the craft. She opened the cabin door and scanned the interior with her rifle. Dom waited, his muscles growing tense, until she reported, “Clear.”

Renee undid the mooring lines around the bulwarks. She pushed the boat slightly with her boot and jumped over the gunwale. Once aboard, she scrambled to the stern and started the small outboard trawling motor. The thing gurgled to life with a low groan that Dom heard over the open comm link. He cringed. It wasn’t that loud, but in the still night it sounded like fireworks to him.

Renee let the sailboat drift slowly out of its slip before she directed it toward the mouth of the marina. There was a strong southerly wind, but Dom had told them not to bother with the sail. The current could do the work. A huge, flapping mainsail would attract too much attention from the Joint Force base. He surveyed the base once more. So far, nothing. They might actually pull this off.

Renee kept low as she directed the boat slowly into the open river, where the current helped turn the boat south. Over the comm link, Dom could still hear the gurgling of the motor.

“Kill the outboard,” he said.

“Roger,” Renee said and complied with the order.

The night went still and silent again. Dom listened to the Hunters’ controlled breathing. The tension was almost palpable as they watched the craft approach. The slight waves slapped against the boat and carried it just past the marina.

“Glenn, Miguel, keep on her.”

“Roger,” Miguel said. He and Glenn stood and prowled through the woods. Their rifles scanned left and right, ensuring no Skull popped up on them unexpectedly. Jenna and Andris followed, watching the approach from the city where Skulls were most likely to appear.

Dom’s anticipation grew as each second passed. He judged it would be a mere minute or so before the sailboat was far enough south for Meredith and Renee to bring it to shore and pick up the rest of the Hunters. Maybe he’d been too careful, too worried about the Joint Force base. He shook aside those thoughts. There was never anything wrong with being vigilant in a world filled with monsters and a country that might’ve turned completely against you.

“Start bringing her in,” he said.

As Renee rotated the tiller, a blinding flash of light tore through Dom’s binos. He squeezed his eyes shut and clicked off the night vision, desperately trying to regain his bearings.

“Aw, shit!” Spencer said.

Spotlights had ripped through the darkness, centered on the sailboat. The telltale rattle and bark of machine guns tore the air. Tracer rounds flew like comets and chewed through the fiberglass hull as if it were nothing more than cardboard. The ship shook, then started to list. Gunfire felled the mast, and the shrouded mainsail splashed into the river.

Yells boomed against Dom’s eardrums through the comm link. The bullets had shorn a fuel line. Fire was coursing over the deck. Dom’s heart climbed into his throat.

He shouted to Meredith and Renee, but if they answered he couldn’t make out the reply in the chaos. They had been so close, and then everything had gone wrong. Dom didn’t think the situation could get any worse.

The howls of dozens of Skulls proved his mistake.

***

Meredith and Renee had jumped into the water as the first bullets struck the ship. The din of rounds slamming into the craft, shredding it to flotsam, boomed underwater. Meredith dove deeper. Rounds whizzed past, leaving trails of bubbles. They plunged all around her. She twisted her neck to see if she could spot Renee, but the water was too dark. The kicked-up silt obscured her vision. She pumped her legs hard and pulled herself through the water with her hands. Her lungs burned for oxygen, but she wanted to remain below the surface as long as possible. Surfacing within the reach of the spotlights would undoubtedly prove fatal.

Orange light flashed above her. The boat was on fire.

So much for the cover of darkness, Meredith thought.

Her hands touched the probing roots of plants near the shore. She followed them, staying close to the underwater foliage until she thought it was safe to pull herself from the muck. Her boots slurped in the mud as she ran for the woods. With the intense gunfire, zipping tracer rounds, and blinding spotlights, it was difficult to gauge her surroundings.

The cacophony of voices over her comm link and the bark of machine guns were soon joined by gut-wrenching howls. There was no mistaking their source. Skulls.

“Meredith, Renee, do you copy?” Dom’s voice sounded frantic.

“Copy!” Meredith said between breaths. She plunged into the woods. Machine gun rounds followed her, crashing into the trees. Torn bits of bark and branches peppered her skin. She pressed deeper into the protective embrace of the forest.

All the while, the sounds of the Skulls grew louder.

“Renee, are you there?” Dom asked. “Come on, Renee!”

Then a gasping voice sounded over the comm link. “Here, Captain.”

“Renee, where are you?” Meredith yelled.

A voice answered from her left. She started to run toward it, but more bullets sprayed into the forest. Twigs and dried leaves fell from overhead. Dirt and sod kicked up. But the rounds were more sporadic, more random. The shelter of the woods was on her side. Meredith listened for the footfalls between the chatter of the machine guns.

Then she heard them. Just a little south from her position.

“I’m headed to you, Renee!” she called. She dashed between the tree trunks and leapt over a fallen log. Her boots caught in a snarl of roots. Momentum carried her forward, and her arms pinwheeled. She lost her grip on her rifle. It flew and landed amid a pile of dead underbrush.

The footfalls grew louder, and Meredith righted herself. “Renee!”

The footfalls picked up, swifter now.

“Coming!” Renee’s voice called—from a completely different direction. Whoever was running towards her, it wasn’t Renee.

Meredith twisted in time to see a figure in fatigues. But these weren’t the black fatigues of a Hunter. They were the muted greens and browns of a standard-issue infantryman’s ACUs. And the thing wearing them was no longer a man. His fingers ended in knifelike talons. Long, protruding skeletal wings burst from his shoulder blades. Spikes and fins bristled from his spine. Like a demon, he opened a mouth full of crooked teeth and let out a haunting wail. The Skull’s flightless wings spread as it sprang at Meredith.

-6-

––––––––

Kara tore across the lawn toward the sound of Sadie’s scream. Navid ran behind her, struggling to keep up. She heard Maggie’s bark and then the wail of a Skull.

“Sadie!” she yelled. “I’m coming!”

Adrenaline surged through her veins, and she flew through a doorway into the building where the screaming seemed to be coming from. Darkness swallowed her, but her pupils slowly adjusted. She strained to make sense of the echoing screams and click of claws on tile. Green runners along the floors lit the way, so at least the emergency lighting system was still functioning on its batteries. But it wasn’t enough. Footsteps sounded behind her. She spun, ready to defend herself.

“Here!” Navid said. A flashlight flicked on. He held out another for her, and she took it with a nod of thanks.

The sound of breaking glass sounded nearby. Maggie barked and growled. Then Kara heard a loud thud, and Maggie let out a pained whine.

Kara shone the light over the walls. There were mannequins wearing George Washington’s Revolutionary War uniforms and various dresses that had been worn by Martha Washington. Portraits lined the walls alongside cases full of artifacts. The flashlight beam probed the darkness of the museum, bouncing as Kara ran. It fell on an old-fashioned musket in one of the cases. It was a harsh reminder that she’d left her gun back at the gift shop in their rush, and so had Navid. It had been a dumb move—or maybe it had been because Kara hadn’t actually expected to find her sister with a Skull. “Sadie! Where the hell are you?”

In response came another crash that sounded like breaking china. Then a scream and more hurried footsteps. Her flashlight beam reflected off something metallic, and Kara’s heart beat faster as she recognized what it was. She sprinted to the case and delivered a heavy strike with her elbow. Glass cracked in a series of spider webs. She yelled in fury as she slammed into it again. The glass fell away in tiny shards.

Inside the case was a sword. Two, in fact. She gave one to Navid, hilt first. Wordlessly they charged into the shadows toward the sounds of a scuffle.

Something shattered. More screams.

There, there!

Maggie was lying on the floor, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, but the dog scrambled to her feet when she saw Kara. Her fur was wet with blood. God, no, Kara thought. But she had no time to attend to the golden retriever. A bloodcurdling roar assaulted her eardrums.

Sadie screamed her name.

Kara turned in time to shine the flashlight into the bloodshot eyes of a Skull. Rotten, soiled clothes hung off its lanky frame, and it wore mismatched shoes. This monster had been homeless long before the Oni Agent had taken it. The creature swung a claw through the air. She ducked and attempted to blind the thing by directing the light into its eyes. The bright light only enraged it more. It growled and whipped about, bearing down on Kara like a rabid mutt. Saliva flew from its mouth.

Then a blade struck the monster’s head. Navid delivered another downward strike. But the flimsy weapon had been meant for show, not combat, and the blade bent over the monster’s reinforced bony plates.

“Damn it!” Navid cried as he pulled the bent blade back. He kicked the Skull hard in its chest. The creature swiveled and pounced. Scuttling out of range, Navid tripped when he hit a display case. The Skull’s claws connected with the glass, and shards sprayed Navid’s face.

“Hey, you ugly bastard!” Kara yelled. The monster spun, and she stabbed with the sword. The blade glanced off the plates along the monster’s shoulder. Its claws deftly knocked the sword away, and Kara ducked to avoid another swipe.

The creature leapt. She rolled. In one fluid motion, she recovered the sword and delivered another blow. It caught the soft flesh behind the creature’s knee. Blood trickled from the wound, and the Skull staggered but didn’t fall. It stomped the blade.

Kara tried to free her sword. But the decorative weapon broke under the Skull’s foot. She pulled away the hilt, now wielding only a jagged, short piece of steel. She didn’t drop it. It was still better than nothing.

“Kara!” Sadie cried. “Look out!”

Sadie shone her own flashlight on the monster. For a moment, the Skull looked between the two girls. Navid raised his bent blade, ready to strike again. A sudden flash of fur burst past all of them. Ferocious growling filled the exhibit room. Her fur standing on end, Maggie tore into the Skull’s wrist. Blood spurted as she sank her teeth into the monster, chewing bone.

It wailed as it shook in Maggie’s relentless grip. Then one of its taloned feet hit the dog. She yelped and slid against the wall. Kara lunged before the Skull got up. She buried the broken sword into the monster’s eye up to the hilt. More hot blood poured from the wound. She tried to twist the blade out, but the Skull knocked her back.

The shattered blade hadn’t been long enough to deliver a fatal blow, and now Kara was weaponless. Sadie stood next to her, holding her flashlight. Navid wielded the bent fencing blade ferociously. His face was wrought in determination. But Kara didn’t think it mattered how brave he was. They were near defenseless against the monster. There was only one option.

“Run!” Kara yelled.

“But Maggie!”

“Run, Sadie!”

Finally, she stopped protesting and fled.

Kara started to follow but paused when Navid didn’t move right away.

“I’ll keep him busy!” he said, brandishing the blade. He circled around the Skull.

“Come with us,” Kara said.

“Go!” he boomed.

She glanced between Sadie and Navid. Sadie was running toward the museum’s entrance. She’d be safe. But Kara couldn’t let Navid sacrifice his life so foolishly for hers. She searched for another weapon. Metal scraping against bone caught her ears. She ran to the first display case she’d seen earlier. Nearby she found a heavy dining chair from a mockup of Washington’s dining room. She heaved the chair at the case. Glass clattered, and she reached in for her new weapon. The burnished wood felt cold in her hands. She wielded the musket in one hand and used the flashlight to guide her path back to Navid and the Skull. She certainly wouldn’t be able to use the gun for its intended purpose, but it was heavy and thick enough to do some damage as a club.

“Kara,” Navid said. He jumped as claws narrowly missed his stomach. “I told you to leave!”

“You’re not my goddamned dad!” She swung the musket at the Skull. The monster reeled and fell sideways. She delivered another debilitating blow that sent fragments of its bony horns skittering across the floor.

The Skull seemed dazed but forced itself to its feet. It caught Navid’s sword in its claws and bent the blade backward until it snapped. Kara used the opportunity to slam the stock of the musket into the Skull’s snapping maw.

Teeth cracked. Blood sprayed. The creature went wild. It came at her like a tornado, whipping and slicing. She parried blow after blow until she was backed against the wall. Sweat trickled down her face and stung her eyes. Blood—hers or the Skull’s, she couldn’t be sure—dripped over her skin. She couldn’t keep up with the pace of the onslaught. Her strength flagged. Her resolve started to waver.

A vase cracked over the Skull’s head. It stared straight ahead for a second before swiveling on Navid.

“Shit!” Navid cried, defenseless before the beast.

Kara swung the musket again and hit the Skull. It stumbled but still did not fall.

A loud blast exploded against her eardrums, and the Skull’s head turned to a pile of mush and bones. Its lifeless body slumped against the floor as a new beam of light flooded the room.

“Navid, Kara!” Adam’s voice boomed. “Are you okay?”

Sadie followed behind him. She was shivering, and her skin was white as moonlight. “Kara!” She threw her arms around her sister. Kara returned the hug. Her heart still raced, but she felt a sense of relief at her sister’s touch.

“I think we’re all right,” Navid said. He knelt next to Maggie. “But I’m not sure about her.”

Kara joined him. “Sadie, hold this.” Her sister grabbed the other flashlight. She and Adam shone their lights over Maggie. The dog looked up, and her tail wagged slowly. She tried to stand.

“Hold up, girl,” Kara cooed. Maggie lay still. Kara combed her fingers through the long, wavy fur, sticky with blood. She probed at the dog’s skin. Maggie didn’t yelp or try to snap. Even the front leg Maggie had injured back in Frederick seemed to be okay.

The dog wagged her tail and let Kara help her stand. Maggie made no show of favoring one limb over another, and she didn’t seem to be in too much pain. In fact, she seemed her normal, cheerful self. Most of the blood must’ve been the Skull’s.

“Thank God,” Sadie said.

Kara nodded with her lips pressed tight. She still wanted to give Maggie a more thorough examination, but it would be easier and safer with better lighting—and their guns nearby. The group trudged in silence back to the gift shop. Once they were inside, Adam ensured all the doors were locked, and Kara turned to her sister.

“What the hell were you thinking, going off on your own?”

“I thought it was safe,” Sadie said. “And I had Maggie with me. I wanted to see the museum.”

“You can’t do anything like that again,” Adam said. “Just because we haven’t seen Skulls around doesn’t mean they aren’t hiding somewhere.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Sadie said. “I’m sorry.”

“Looks like the one you met snuck in here long before the outbreak decimated the city,” Adam said.

“Probably got scratched or something and turned in there when he was hiding,” Navid added.

Kara still felt angry, but she tried not to let it show. At least Sadie was with her now. Alive. Safe.

“Speaking of scratches, everybody okay?” Adam asked.

The group checked themselves over now that the adrenaline had faded. Everyone reported they were clean. But there was one group member who couldn’t report. Kara examined Maggie again. She used a souvenir dish towel to clean Skull blood out of the dog’s matted fur. She wiped the fur and the towel turned red. One spot on Maggie’s drenched fur gave Kara extra trouble until she realized the blood was seeping back into the dog’s fur from a cut. Maggie had been wounded.

Kara paused, and Sadie looked up at her with a frightened expression. “Can dogs turn, too?”

-7-

––––––––

Shepherd woke to a soft scratching sound. Something was scraping against the general store’s wooden siding. Maybe it was just tree branches. The wind howled around the walls and whooshed through the broken window. The bag wasn’t meant for cold weather, and a shiver crawled through his skin. He tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep.

The scraping continued.

“It’s noisy out there, huh?” Rachel asked in a low whisper. She slowly brought herself up to a sitting position and cocked her head to the side. Even in the pale moonlight, he could see the slight creases form in her brow. “What do you think it is?”

“The wind and the trees,” Shepherd said. But he doubted those words immediately. Rachel’s alertness sparked his own. He recalled the only trees near the general store had been yards away. There might’ve been one, at most, with branches close enough.

The scraping grew louder. The sounds were coming from the front entrance.

“Wake him,” Shepherd said. “Get under the counter.”

“Rory, Rory,” Rachel whispered, gently waking the midshipman. She clamped a hand over his mouth when he shot awake and started to ask something. “Shhh. Quiet.”

Rory’s eyes widened. He relaxed and then nodded.

“Behind the counter,” Rachel said.

Shepherd watched the two crawling over the wooden floorboards. They scooted slowly on their bellies until they made it to the checkout. It was the darkest and most hidden spot in the store—the only place concealed from the windows. But it was too small for all three of them.

Shepherd needed to find his own place to hide. He inched forward on his hands and knees. There was a shelf near the counter filled with dust-covered magazines, trail guides, and books documenting the local wildlife. He started to duck behind it. A shape moved in front of the broken window, and he froze.

Silhouetted against the starlit sky were the characteristic spikes and protrusions he had grown to know all too well. The creature paused at the doorway. Its nose twitched, and its head cocked to the side. Shepherd held his breath as he watched the Skull. His pulse thudded in his eardrums, and he prayed the monster couldn’t hear the rapid rhythm. Time dragged on for what felt like an eternity. His fingers and limbs started to tremble from staying still for so long. But eventually the Skull carried on, lethargic and slow once again.

Several more Skulls let out low moans. There was the rattle and thud of bone against bone, and Shepherd could easily picture two of the beasts jostling each other for position, hoping to be the first to find fresh meat. Shepherd moved closer to the counter. He lifted the shelf of books slowly and carefully. Rachel gave him an anxious look. One wrong move and the creatures out there would be on them in seconds.

His deliberate, tortoise-like movements paid off. The shelf was soon in place and extended the coverage provided by the checkout counter. He slid behind it and glimpsed out the window as he did. What he saw made his blood freeze.

Dozens upon dozens of Skulls marched between the trees. Their feet crunched through the underbrush and carpet of leaves. Clawed hands, hanging by their sides for the moment, clunked against the tree trunks. They bumped into each other almost clumsily. A couple nearby seemed on a collision course with the store, and the sight of them broke Shepherd from his trance. He crouched behind the shelf. “Stay completely still. There are at least a hundred out there.”

Rory’s jaw dropped. He shrank back.

“And those are just the ones I can see,” Shepherd whispered.

For half an hour, maybe longer, they waited in silence. Shepherd tried to breathe slowly, softly. They’d always operated under the assumption that the Skull’s strongest, most reliable senses were sight and hearing, like the humans they’d once been. But they never had any way to truly tell for sure. He prayed the creatures wouldn’t be drawn by the smell of live human meat.

More and more scrapes. More and more rattling bones. Another creature paused outside the broken window. It glanced at the corner of a tarp fluttering in the wind. It squinted, and the monster’s lips curled back into a snarl. Every muscle in Shepherd’s body tensed. He started calculating the most effective way to neutralize the Skull and get to the river. That would be their only hope—outrun the creatures. They couldn’t defend this ramshackle place from the number of Skulls he’d seen.

But the Skull’s snarl evaporated into the dull, passive expression the beasts wore when nothing was around to whip them into a frenzy. Shepherd caught himself before he let out an audible sigh of relief. The terrible noises outside dragged on for twenty or thirty minutes. Then the telltale sounds diminished. The monsters seemed to be retreating. Maybe he and the midshipmen would live to see another night.

A single grating scratch caused Shepherd to cringe. It sounded as though something were dragging along the side of the building. It continued until they saw the source of the din. A Skull with especially long shoulder plates was rubbing against the building. It passed near the door and stopped. Its shoulder plate had hooked around the window frame. The monster tried to walk on, but the plate locked it in place. Instead of simply backing up and freeing itself, the monster pushed forward again. A low growl of frustration escaped its lips. The doorframe shook with the Skull’s efforts. The entire wall seemed to shift and shake. A lantern hopped as the shelf by the door tremored.

The Skull struggled, hell-bent on yanking its increasingly embedded shoulder plate from the wooden doorframe. Fire burned through Shepherd’s nerves. He already knew this wouldn’t end well.

“Get ready to grab your packs,” he whispered.

He glanced at the Skull as it shook the doorframe again. It wailed. The rushed footsteps of more bony feet crunched through the leaves. They crowded around the frustrated Skull, interested to see what the ruckus was about. The Skull threw its entire body into the doorframe. Wood cracked. Paint chipped and flaked. It howled, and even more footsteps sounded.

The shelf by the door trembled and then collapsed. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Lanterns tumbled off. A grill plummeted. Cans of preserved foods and boxes of matches spilled. The Skulls screamed in excitement. Their rasping voices burst through the night air and echoed violently against the walls. Two of them tried to scramble through the window. Their claws tore into the trapped Skull. They fractured its bony plates, and rivulets of blood streamed from its injuries. The wounds only made the Skull more crazed.

The growing crowd urgently pushed against one another, each desperate to find what had caused the racket. Each drawn by the allure of potential prey.

A window above Rachel and Rory broke. Shards of glass fell over them, and a bony hand reached in, followed by a face caught in a fearsome snarl. Another window broke, and a Skull’s chomping maw appeared. The Skull’s eyes widened under its horn-rimmed brow when its gaze fell on Shepherd. It let out a bellowing roar to call the others to hunt.

“Ready?” Shepherd asked. The midshipmen nodded. He scooped up his pack with his left hand and held it like a riot shield. In his right, he grabbed a camping ax. He heard the rustle of the midshipmen gathering their supplies behind them. “Now!”

“Let’s do this!” Rory yelled.

“Go, go, go!” Rachel bellowed at the top of her lungs.

Anger and the intense desire to live against all odds sent waves of unrelenting power through Shepherd’s muscles. He reared one leg back and kicked with all of his strength at the door. It flew open. The force pushed the struggling Skull onto its back, and several of the nearby Skulls were knocked off balance. Holding the camping pack before him, he charged at the ferocious creatures. He shoved them back and struck out with the ax. Flashes of blood and the clash of steel against bone and flesh were interspersed with the screams and growls of the Skulls.

He could hear Rory and Rachel behind him. They worked quickly to clear a path through the monsters. But more charged them from every direction. The swarm they’d tried to hide from would soon be on them. They could not fight the Skulls head-on. There had to be another way.

“To the river!” Shepherd roared.

The ax cleaved a new target, followed swiftly by a second. The blade bit deep into flesh. Blood sprayed. Skulls howled. He pushed another creature over with the backpack. A Skull fell on its bony ass. Its jaws snapped, and its claws cut through the air. But he didn’t give it a chance to get back up. The ax found its home in the middle of the Skull’s face. The creature went slack.

Shepherd bent to retrieve his weapon. He pulled on the handle, but it was firmly stuck. Another Skull lunged, and he decided running was more important than struggling with the ax.

He sprinted for the river, Rachel and Rory close behind. A Skull careened directly into their path. Shepherd bowled it over with the pack. Rory lashed out with an ax. Rachel slammed a Skull with a shovel. The hollow ringing echoed between the tree trunks. More Skulls cried out in response.

Shepherd, Rachel, and Rory dodged under branches and leapt over knotted roots as they dashed down a slope. Momentum carried Shepherd to the point where if he lost his footing, he would probably roll straight into the river. But he didn’t stop. They ran as the muck and mud grabbed their boots and sucked at their feet. Skulls splashed in after them. The monsters, weighed down by their heavy organic armor, floundered in the shallow water.

The Skulls would be dangerous until they were far enough out to be swept away by the current and drowned. According to Rachel and Rory, the damn things couldn’t swim. He hoped their intel was good, but it was too late now to change tactics.

Let the river take the Skulls, please, Shepherd prayed.

Soon he was swimming, his pack floating in front of him. The midshipmen did likewise. They kicked as hard as they could, and the current started to sweep them away. Suicidal Skulls, attempting to follow, were quickly pulled under by their dense armor plates. They splashed and flailed, but Shepherd did not spare them a moment’s pity.

Shepherd felt something hit his feet and roll under him. “Shit! Keep swimming!” The monsters were just as dangerous dead as they were alive. One cut from their bony claws, one scratch, and the Oni Agent would take them.

“Ah!” Rachel cried out, practically jumping from the water. “They’re under us!”

She powered ahead of the group with the prowess of a practiced swimmer. Shepherd wasn’t too far behind, but Rory was struggling. Soon, Rachel was striding up the other side of the river. Shepherd kicked until he reached the shore. He tossed his bag up the muddy bank and looked back.

“Where the hell did Rory go?” he asked.

The midshipman’s pack was floating nearby, but the young man had disappeared.

-8-

––––––––

The Skull screamed at Meredith. She rolled out of the way, and it slammed harmlessly against a tree trunk. She dove to snatch up her dropped rifle. Before she could grab it, bullets lanced through the Skull. Its body twitched with each shot. Blood and flesh sprayed from the exit wounds. The rounds had come from the wrong direction to be machine-gun fire from the Joint Base. She pressed the stock of her rifle against her shoulder and aimed it around the darkness.

“Meredith!” Miguel yelled. Glenn came running behind him.

“Careful,” Meredith said. “Renee’s nearby!”

“Here, here! Don’t fire!” Renee’s voice called out.

They swiveled toward the crunching of feet over leaves and twigs. Renee emerged from the gloom. More Skulls cried out around them. The Hunters circled up and fired. Their gun chatter broke out over the unholy chorus of Skull voices. The creatures came at them, clawing and screaming, through the trees. Bullets crashed into the monsters’ plates and tore through their flesh. Their heads snapped back, their bodies crumpled and lifeless.

“Retreat,” Dom said over the comm link.

“Aye, aye,” they replied in unison.

The Hunters worked like a killing machine. Firing and moving slowly through the woods. Machine-gun fire still peppered the shore and the sailboat. The Hunters maintained a healthy distance from the river as they made their way north, back to the building they’d come from. Progress was slow but steady.

“Changing!” Meredith called out. She replaced the mag on her rifle and resumed firing. Somehow they’d been lucky enough to avoid being overwhelmed by a wave of Skulls. But she’d learned long ago relying on luck was a mistake, and she remained vigilant. They soon reached the parking lot near the marina.

“Run!” Dom said. “I’ll cover your retreat!”

As promised, rifle fire chattered from the window of the burned-out office building they’d used as a temporary base. Rounds pierced the night air and impaled the pursuing Skulls. Bony bodies thudded and smacked against the asphalt. Meredith ran with the others, taking the occasional shot at any Skulls that dared to take a passing swipe.

They would be back to safety soon, she told herself. Back where they could better defend themselves. Back by Dom’s side.

A resonating bellow quenched those thoughts. Dom’s voice broke through the comm link, but Meredith didn’t need him to tell her the source of the roar. She spun on her heels and sighted up the humungous monster bursting through the edge of the woods.

It was a Goliath.

The creature ripped a tree from the ground. Soil sprayed from its roots. The Goliath tossed the uprooted tree with ease, and the trunk whistled through the air. Meredith dove, scraping her arms and knees against the asphalt. The others scattered as the trunk flew at them. Branches struck Glenn, and the man went down hard. The tree hit a parked car, and the vehicle skidded sideways, slamming against another. Metal screeched against metal.

This was supposed to have been an easy mission. Take a boat and use it as bait. See if the Joint Force Base was actively monitoring the river. If they were, abandon the boat. Check. Get back to Dom and then traverse south quietly through the night. That second part hadn’t quite worked out. The Goliath was an enormous wrench in that plan.

The Hunters sent a volley of fierce gunfire at the behemoth. Bone chipped off as bullets slammed into it or glanced off its horns and spikes and plates. Although its armor cracked and splintered, the beast didn’t even slow down. Its feet dug into the ground with each galloping step, sending clods of dirt and plants flying.

Soon enough its raucous bellowing attracted other Skulls. The beasts careened toward the gunfire and the hunting cries of their fellow creatures. There would be no easy way out of this mess.

“Keep falling back,” Dom said over the comm link. A loud whoosh sounded overhead, and then an explosion rocked the Goliath. Dom had used one of the group’s last grenade cases for their barrel-mounted launchers. Fire rolled in a billowing cloud from the Goliath. The giant Skull grabbed its chest and let out a moan of agony that shook the treetops. Its plates had been split open, and its ribs were exposed.

Meredith fired volley after volley into the unprotected meat of the Goliath’s chest. The beast stumbled then crashed forward. Momentum carried its body into another couple of trees, and the falling trunks smashed several of the nearby Skulls. One of the trapped creatures managed to free itself. It left behind a shredded leg caught under the tree in the process. It hobbled, tripped, and then crawled, relentless in the pursuit of its prey. She lit it up with a salvo of gunfire before retreating across the parking lot toward Dom’s position.

“Hunters, gather at the west entrance,” Dom said.

Meredith frowned in confusion. Dom had initially ordered them to reconvene in the office building, where they could hold out. This change of plans worried her, but she trusted that from his vantage point he could see how the battle was unfolding. Her job wasn’t to second-guess his orders, but to follow them to the best of her abilities.

The other Hunters were blurs in Meredith’s peripheral vision. Miguel’s rifle flashed. Glenn took a knee and sighted up a Skull running on all fours. Jenna waved a hand to goad them all on, while Renee changed mags and Andris sprinted for cover. All hell had truly broken loose.

Another loud bellow sounded behind them. Meredith first looked at the downed Goliath, but it hadn’t miraculously recovered. Smoke still drifted from its singed skin, and its tusked mouth hung open under its glassy, lifeless eyes. Then she saw a second Goliath punch through the wreckage of vehicles. Its hammering fists knocked the cars aside as if they were toys.

Then another noise caught Meredith’s ears. It was the thump of chopper blades. She spotted several helicopters zooming above the river and circling near the shore. Their side doors lay open, and door gunners sprayed gunfire into the flanks of the Skull horde. They turned their attention on the new airborne combatants. Some scaled the trees and leapt into the air, their claws flailing desperately as they tried to reach the helicopters. It would have been almost funny if Meredith didn’t know how deadly the creatures were.

“Ignore the choppers,” Dom said. “These are the same people who fired on the boat. Get the hell back here!”

Meredith’s entire body felt like it was on fire. She couldn’t tell if she was overheating in her combat gear or burning up with adrenaline. Either way, she used the excess energy to power through the streets with the others. The sawblade-like churn of machine-gun fire sent rounds spraying into the Skulls. Blood spilled. Bullet holes pocked abandoned vehicles and the sides of buildings.

A spray of gunfire arced overhead, and Meredith ducked. It was far too close for comfort. The individuals in those choppers weren’t too careful about their aim. It made Meredith wonder if these people were actually military or if they were some rogue faction of survivors desperate to secure a place for themselves by quelling any threat, Skull or human, in their territory.

All she knew was that she didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“Watch out!” Andris cried.

Meredith had just enough time to dive and roll. She felt the sting on her elbows as her fatigues tore. But it was a small price to pay for avoiding the chunk of concrete that flew overhead. As she watched the trajectory of the projectile, she realized it hadn’t been intended for her anyway. She heard the victorious roar of a Goliath when the concrete and rebar missile crashed into one of the helicopters. Metal screeched. The bird listed and shook. It continued to tilt and then fell into a slow descent. The chopper slammed sideways into a nearby parking lot, and the spinning blades were shorn off, sending fragments of metal flying. A piece of blade severed the head of one Skull, and a long shard embedded itself in another beast’s chest. A final blast of fire bloomed from the chopper and tossed dozens of Skulls backwards.

But instead of dissuading the Skulls, the monsters surged to the downed chopper. Several broke into the burning cockpit. Meredith felt a fierce urge to help the two people she watched torn from their seats. She knew it was already too late as the Skulls ripped into the flesh of the pilots. There would be nothing for her to save even if she could reach the helicopter.

Three more choppers still hovered nearby, raining down vengeance for their lost squadron members. Flames licked into the sky. Skulls, silhouetted by the conflagration, rent the air with demonic howls. Human screams answered from the downed chopper as ravenous monsters dug through the burning wreckage.

It was, Meredith decided, hell on earth.

***

Dom wasn’t certain why the choppers had flown from the Joint Force Base. He could understand their aggression toward a boat that might be carrying people infected by the Oni Agent toward their base. But taking an unnecessary risk by coming to this side of the Potomac seemed, well, unnecessary. In his paranoia, he wondered if the military units there had somehow identified his little ragtag band as the Hunters that Kinsey had been looking for. He sure as hell hoped not. Maybe there was some other, more prudent reason for their actions, but Dom didn’t bother trying to figure it out. He knew his team might have one shot to escape, and they could no longer delay. He’d seen what was headed in their direction, and he didn’t like it.

“Spencer, you ready to move?” Dom said, gathering up as many of their supplies as possible. He placed a few planned C4 charges around the damaged columns of the building and pocketed the detonator.

Spencer nodded. His jaw was still clenched, and the bandages covering his face had bled through again. Despite this, the man looked stolid as ever. He grabbed the rest of the packs and grunted, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Dom and Spencer dashed down the rubble-strewn stairs. The bursts of gunshots, the crackle of a raging fire, and the roars of the Skulls grew louder as they descended. The hellish soundtrack provided more than enough encouragement for him to get down and get the Hunters moving. He rushed around a landing, shoving a burned-out desk from his path. He heard stumbling footsteps behind him and turned to see Spencer falling forward. Dom dropped his packs and caught the man before he hit the ground.

“Sorry, Captain. The meds—”

“No time. Let’s go!” Dom said.

They made it to the west entrance of the building. Dom didn’t bother opening the large doors to the outside. The glass had already been blown away by whatever bombing had caused the craters and wreckage in the streets. He saw shapes moving at the end of the block. The Hunters.

“Hurry!” Dom called.

They charged, leaping over slabs of broken concrete and the twisted wreckage of vehicles. When the group at last moved into position around the entrance, Dom signaled for them to hunker down. A couple of lone Skulls gave chase, but Dom dispatched them with a few quick shots. Most of the beasts were still focused on the choppers.

“More Skulls headed in from the north,” Dom said. “Packs coming in from the west, too.” He watched one of the helicopters veer away from the other two. “And I bet those birds are looking for us.”

Miguel raised a soot-covered eyebrow. “Why the hell—”

“Doesn’t matter why right now. We need to move, and, unfortunately, the best way to move is south.”

Jenna’s eyes went wide. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s where we just came from.”

“Trust me on this. South might look bad, but what’s headed from the other directions is worse.” He pulled up a map on his smartwatch. The others huddled together to see the tiny screen. “We need to go straight through the city. It’s our best chance to stay hidden from Skulls and those guys in the air. Stick to the shadows and alleys if possible. If it gets too hot, we go up, understood? Find an apartment building, something, and lose these bastards before trying to move out.”

Glenn shook his head. “This sounds like a half-baked plan, Captain.”

“Didn’t have time for a full-baked one, so unless you’ve got a better idea, we move.”

The Hunters looked at each other. Dom privately wished someone did have a better plan and looked at Meredith hopefully. She gave him a noncommittal shrug. The gunfire echoing around the streets, the chopper blades thumping the air, and the Skulls’ relentless screaming didn’t provide an atmosphere conducive to careful deliberation and thinking.

Dom stood, slapped his rifle, and said, “Move out!”

Rather than have another Hunter do it, he took point. He ran, ducking behind a burned-out ambulance, and then jumped into the storefront of what used to be a boutique pet store. There was no time to take things slowly and carefully. When Skulls appeared in front of him, he steamrolled them with rifle fire before they could so much as turn in his direction.

His pack slapped against his back. Pain stitched his side from the intense running and the injuries he’d sustained over the course of their battles with the Oni Agent. He could hear the other Hunters gasping for air. He knew each of the Hunters bore their own burdens, emotional and physical. But even Spencer ran on.

They wound their way through the bombed-out city until they neared the south edge of Alexandria. They found themselves looking over a six-lane highway that led to the other side of Cameron Run, a tributary into the Potomac River. That highway would take them over a bridge and into the next town over. Several Skulls lingered among the abandoned vehicles, but the monsters would pose little threat.

But Dom paused at the end of the bridge and indicated for the group to take cover in the ditch beside the road. The Skulls weren’t the reason he’d stopped. Two helicopters were hovering nearby. They’d joined in the fight against the Skulls with the other birds already in the air. These ones shone spotlights across the city blocks as if they were looking for something.

“Are they after us?” Renee asked.

“Maybe,” Dom said.

“How the hell do we cross now?” Meredith asked as a spotlight flooded the bridge with intense light.

A grin spread across Spencer’s ruined, bandaged face. “We planned for something like this.”

-9-

––––––––

Dom took the detonator from his pocket. As Spencer had said, they’d come up with a contingency plan. But there was no telling if it would actually work. He depressed the small button. One second later, a rumbling blast exploded from the building where they’d been sheltering. Plumes of dust and debris filled the air. Skull cries and the bellows of a few Goliaths joined the cacophony.

One of the choppers took off toward the explosion. But one kept its spotlight gleaming over the bridge. Come on, come on, Dom thought. Go check out the pretty explosion.

The second chopper raced to the crumbling building.

“Now!” Dom sprinted to the bridge. A Skull snarled at him. He bashed its face in with a well-timed strike from his rifle’s stock. He kicked another out of his way and shot it point-blank. Behind them, the thump of chopper blades was growing louder again. One helicopter was already returning to its position on the south side of the city. “Damn it! Move!”

The Hunters were halfway across the bridge. The wandering Skulls provided brief, surmountable roadblocks. More difficult was the maze of charred vehicles. Heavy footsteps echoed behind him as the Hunters navigated the wrecked cars. If the choppers caught them now, there was little chance all of them could avoid its probing spotlight.

Another Skull lunged. Dom elbowed it hard in the chest, sending it reeling. The beast shot back to its feet. Its jaws snapped, and it moved in for the attack. He started to bring his rifle up but realized gunfire now would certainly draw the chopper’s attention. The bird would be on him like a Skull on helpless prey. Instead, he dropped his gun, letting the strap catch on his shoulder. He whipped his knife from his thigh sheath.

Miguel stopped as if to help him.

“Go,” Dom said. “Get the others and go!”

He could handle this lone Skull. He’d dealt with worse, after all. Miguel seemed uncertain, but he followed his captain’s orders. Dom lashed out with the blade, catching the Skull under its chin. It swatted him away and then launched an unrelenting attack. Dom dodged blow after blow. His heart pounded in rhythm with the thumping chopper blades drawing ever nearer, reminding him time was short.

He jumped to the side as the Skull dove headlong and crashed into the side of a pickup. With a powerful kick, he slammed the creature’s head into the truck. Bone crunched against metal. The Skull turned, dazed but still snarling. With another slice, Dom connected with the creature’s neck, and blood poured out. The creature took a step forward and then staggered. It reached with one outstretched claw, still desperate to bring down its prey despite certain death.

Dom ignored it and sprinted to catch up with the others. One chopper had already returned to the end of the bridge where they’d come from, its searchlight already swinging toward the Hunters. The others had almost reached the other side. Meredith and Renee were first, followed by Glenn and Miguel. Jenna and Andris jumped into the ditch beside the highway.

Spencer was only a few yards behind them. Dom watched him try to leap over a fallen motorcycle. The injured Hunter’s boot snagged, and he went down hard. His head slammed against the pavement with a sickening thud. His helmet, which had been left loose because of the bandages, bounced off.

“Spencer!” Dom yelled. He picked up his pace, huffing and straining. The chopper’s spotlight drew ever closer, glinting off the vehicles behind him. He reached the motorcycle where Spencer had fallen. “Spencer! Get up!”

But the man didn’t respond. The spotlight beam was almost on them. There was no way Dom could lug the heavy man to where the others were. They were completely out in the open, and the beam was illuminating the cars just feet away from them. With no other options, Dom grabbed Spencer’s body in a bear hug and rolled them under a nearby SUV. Dom held his breath as the light swept over them. He prayed the lookout in the chopper hadn’t seen his desperate move.

Soon the intense light passed.

“Clear?” Dom asked over the comm link.

“Chopper looks like it’s going to make another sweep,” Meredith called back. “You got maybe ten, twenty seconds.”

Dom shoved Spencer’s unconscious body out from under the SUV. Normally he’d be more careful with the injured man, but they had to get away from the Skulls and the prowling military. He heaved Spencer into a fireman’s carry. As Meredith had promised, the chopper started its second sweep. Even more birds seemed to be in the air now, swarming the city. The occasional spurt of gunfire rained down into the decimated city blocks. Whatever the chopper crews were searching for, they weren’t holding back. Dom did not want to be caught in the crossfire. He used up his energy reserves to beat the spotlight to the end of the bridge and practically tumbled into the ditch with the rest of the Hunters.

He let Spencer fall to the ground next to Meredith and Andris. The duo checked the Hunter’s vitals while Dom caught his breath.

“He’s breathing,” Meredith said.

“Heartbeat’s normal,” Andris reported.

“Keep an eye on him,” Dom said. He peeked above the ditch. “How’s everyone on ammo?”

Glenn forced a low, sardonic laugh. “I think I used damn near every bullet we scrounged up at the airport.”

“Me, too,” Renee said.

“Understood,” Dom said. “Look, we aren’t going to make it far tonight. Not with those birds overhead, Skulls everywhere, and an injured Hunter.” He gestured to an apartment building with busted windows and missing a roof. “Let’s hole up there. I haven’t seen any ground forces. And after that Goliath took down one chopper, I doubt they’re keen on combing through the wreckage by foot. We might be safe if we stay undercover for a while.”

“What then?” Miguel asked, always pushing, always probing for the answers.

The Hunters murmured their assent. Dom’s mind raced as he tried to figure out how to get from here to his daughters and then to the Huntress. But trying to solve all those problems at once would be a recipe for disaster. He knew from his training as a field agent that it was best to take these things one step at a time. He needed to break his goals down into small, accomplishable tasks.

“Let’s focus on getting some better cover for now,” Dom said. “Miguel, you’re on point.”

The Hunter nodded and, on Dom’s command, rushed across the street. He played his muzzle over empty vehicles. Only a few Skulls lingered nearby. The Hunters took turns running to the other side. Soon they were all filing into the apartment building. Glenn had Spencer over his back as they headed upstairs to find a defendable apartment.

They quickly cleared a three-bedroom unit. Clothes were strewn about, and most of the canned goods were gone. The owners appeared to have fled the apartment at the beginning of the outbreak. It would certainly do for a one-night stay.

“Barricade the door, Chief?” Miguel asked, ready to push a sofa to the entrance.

“Not yet.”

Miguel cocked his head.

“I’m not planning on holing up for the night.”

“But I thought you said—”

Dom patted his rifle. “We need ammo. And I need some people to stay behind and watch Spencer.” He paused. “We can’t risk everyone leaving. Not tonight. But we also can’t wait until we have the cover of darkness again tomorrow. Andris, Meredith, you’re coming with me. I want to keep our numbers small.”

He glanced at each of the remaining Hunters meaningfully. “If we don’t make it back, you carry on to Mt. Vernon without me.”

Jenna stepped forward. “No way, Captain. That’s not how this works.”

“It is now,” Dom said. “I’m not going to risk your lives while I sit here and watch from above again.”

Meredith replaced a strand of hair that had fallen out from under her helmet. “What midnight outing did you have in mind for us?”

Dom brought up his smartwatch. He scanned the map for both police stations and gun stores nearby. No problem in Virginia.

“Do you really think these places won’t already be raided?” Meredith asked.

“No, no chance,” Dom replied. “But it’s not exactly like I can call them up and ask them whether they still have ammo in stock. We’ll go door-to-door until we find enough.”

“Great,” Andris said. “I’m ready for a stroll.”

“We’ll check here first,” Dom said, pointing to the nearest shop. “Everyone else, sit tight.”

“Whatever you say, Captain,” Glenn said. “But you let us know the second you think you need backup.”

“Will do, brother,” Dom said.

He led Meredith and Andris back down the stairs. They crept between overturned dumpsters and trashcans, sticking to the alleys as they made their way to the gun shop. A few skinny Skulls walked through the streets; they looked as if they were starving. Little wonder they hadn’t made it across the bridge like so many of the others, even with the commotion in Alexandria. They were wasting away. Dom wondered if the Skulls would start to die out if they stopped feeding. He hoped so.

But hope wouldn’t help him survive right now. Firepower would.

“There!” Dom pointed to a storefront with windows reinforced by steel bars. They sprinted to the store, sticking close to the shadows. The front door was already broken open. At his signal, Meredith took her place beside the entrance.

After a curt nod from Dom, Meredith swung the door back. Dom and Andris rushed in. Dom played his rifle over the toppled shelves and empty boxes littering the floor. His boots crunched over broken glass as he prowled through the store. Most of the racks along the walls were empty, and only a few shells rolled underfoot. The sound of distant gunfire still boomed from across the river, and he wished the military was still on their side. It would have been so much easier to resupply at the base instead of scavenging.

Dom rounded the rear counter. He had hoped there would be some secret stash of ammunition there, but again his hopes were dashed. But another door grabbed his attention. He motioned to his eyes, then to the door. The others nodded and crept into position, poised for action.

Dom shot Meredith a hand signal. Like before, she opened the door. Andris and Dom rushed through. He was forced to rely on his NVGs in the darkness beyond. He followed a set of wooden stairs down to a cellar. There was a pile of sandbags at one end of the underground room. Spent casings were scattered across the cracked cement floor. The cinderblock walls were pockmarked with small craters. There had undoubtedly been a gun battle here.

But Dom found no Skull corpses. Instead, there were two bodies near the bottom of the stairs. Normal human bodies. Both wore camouflage, though neither looked military. The stench of death and the buzzing of flies threatened to overwhelm his senses. He moved past the puddles of dried blood. Another body at the opposite end of the room was draped over a wooden crate. As he, Andris, and Meredith probed the empty storage shelves, it started to become clear to Dom what had transpired.

The gun shop owner had created a holdout for himself in the basement. The two men in camo must’ve tried to take the man’s supplies, and he had put up a fight. Dom examined a few of the spent casings on the floor. There were at least four different calibers and types of bullets. Four weapons, yet only three bodies. And as far as he could tell, the corpses had been stripped of useful gear.

“There are others out there,” Dom whispered, nodding to the two dead men in camo.

“And likely armed to the teeth,” Meredith said. Her eyebrows pinched together in thought.

“I wonder how big of a group we’re talking about,” Dom said. “Maybe the Joint Force base got riled up because there’s some armed militia out there causing them trouble.”

“Maybe,” Andris said. “I’m certainly not interested in running into guys like this. They do not seem too friendly.” He gestured toward the man Dom guessed was the former store owner. “And there’s not a damn thing left for us to take.”

“Don’t know about that,” Dom said. A glint of metal had caught his eye. He moved aside a few shelves near one of the corpses. Before him was an enormous steel door with a combination lock. “Gun safe.”

“Ah,” Meredith said. “Looks like these guys were a little hasty in killing the storekeeper. I bet if they’d talked nice, the guy would’ve opened this for them.”

“Seeing as he’s no longer around,” Andris said, “want me to do the honors?”

-10-

––––––––

Lauren applied a new antibiotic gel over Thomas’s thigh wound. He cringed but didn’t protest. After she replaced the bandages, she glanced at the survivors from Boston’s Mass Gen Hospital. They were stable, at least for the immediate future, so she moved into the quarantine room. She was pleased the guards had allowed her to help her patients. Now she needed to press her luck a tad farther.

She wanted to be back in the lab. No, she needed to be there. Each minute and hour spent away from her research meant time wasted. She should be working to solve the biological mysteries behind Skulls, Goliaths, Droolers, and the Oni Agent.

She stood in front of the isolation ward, looking in. There, Ivan and Scott lay in what appeared to be a peaceful slumber. She knew the truth was nothing so pleasant. Their brains had been altered by the Oni Agent. The skeletal growths characteristic of the Skulls had been eliminated through the chelation treatment Lauren had developed, but that only prevented the overgrown claws and armor plating by killing the nanobacteria. Unfortunately, the nanobacteria didn’t just produce those horrific mutations. They also acted like microscopic factories, churning out prions similar to the ones that caused Mad Cow Disease.

Those prions had so far eluded Lauren’s team. The infectious proteins wreaked havoc on the brain, causing the neurological damage that led to the Skulls’ cannibalistic thirst for human flesh. Lauren still held out hope they’d find a way to reverse that damage and restore Ivan and Scott’s humanity. For now, all she could do was change their IV bags and move them to prevent bedsores while they slept on in their medically induced comas.

“What happened to them?” Smith asked. His demeanor seemed to have softened. Maybe he was quick to trust—a trait Lauren had no problem exploiting if necessary.

“Brain trauma,” Lauren half-lied. “Had to put them in comas until we’re sure their neurological function is restored.”

“How long will that take?” Smith asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

“Hard to tell,” Lauren said. “I don’t have half the equipment a good land-based hospital does. We thought with access to Fort Detrick we could treat them better, but I guess that’s not in the cards.”

“Nope,” Smith said, standing near the doorway of the isolation room with his weapon cradled carelessly in his arms. “Are they all taken care of now?”

“For now,” Lauren said.

“Then sit back down with the rest of your team.”

Lauren decided to take a calculated risk. “You know what’s in there, right?” She indicated the hatch to the laboratory.

Smith raised an eyebrow. “Your mad scientist lab.”

Lauren offered him a tight smile. “Not exactly. We were researching ways to stop the Oni Agent.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“Look,” Lauren said as patiently as possible. “Our research isn’t going anywhere. If I could just—”

“Come on,” Smith said, more forcefully. “Sit down and shut up.”

Lauren ignored him. “Have you seen what’s really going on out there? There are worse things than the Skulls.”

The guard narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The Goliaths. The Droolers. These things are getting more dangerous.”

“And General Kinsey is going to make sure we kill every single one of them.”

Aha, Lauren thought. That confirmed her suspicions about their association with Kinsey. “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.” She held out her hands in a beseeching manner. “Look, we really are trying to help. Before you boarded our ship, my team was working on a way to protect against the acid spray.”

“Seriously, shut up,” Smith said again. “All this Droolers and Goliaths nonsense. Jesus. Just sit down.”

Lauren could see she wasn’t getting anywhere with the guard, so she took a seat by Divya, Peter, and Sean. They gave her wary looks, and Peter seemed to be warning her to back off.

“Are you going to be in the field when Kinsey orders you to destroy all the Skulls?” Lauren asked Smith.

“Quiet! I let you help your patients, so now shut it.”

“Just a friendly warning. You don’t know what you’re up against. If you don’t believe me, check that computer. Watch some of the videos from our crew’s helmet-mounted cameras. You can see for yourself.”

Smith watched her suspiciously and then glanced at the other guard. Lauren was quiet, letting the seeds of skepticism take root in the two men. After a few tense moments of silence, Smith moved to the computer terminal nearest him. His fingers tapped across the keyboard. He started scrolling through the list of videos and selected one at random. While Lauren couldn’t quite see which one he’d chosen, she heard the distinct bellowing of Goliaths pour through the tinny speakers, followed by the yells of panicked Hunters. Then the guard played another video. She cringed as she recognized Owen’s agonized screams. It must’ve been the one where the poor Hunter had been shorn in half by a Goliath. Smith looked visibly shocked before switching to another clip. Gurgling sounded over the speakers. Droolers. Smith took a step back from the display and rubbed his face with his hand.

He turned to the other guard. They conferred quietly before Smith turned to her. “You said you were working to stop these things?”

Lauren nodded. “We were.”

“Anything that would protect us from them?” Smith asked, indicating himself and his fellow guard.

“Certainly.”

“I’m not buying it,” Smith said.

Thomas groaned and managed to sit up straighter. Despite his obvious pain, he leveled his gaze at the two guards. “The research these people are doing is crucial to humanity’s survival. If you want to delay that, if you want to be the people to let more die, be my guest. But that’s on your conscience.”

Smith stared at him, seeming to consider the implications.

“I’m willing to bet my life on this team,” Thomas said, gesturing to Lauren and the others. “If you think they’re trying something they shouldn’t be, you can shoot me.”

“Thomas!” Lauren said.

Thomas never took his eyes off Smith. “I’m serious. Take the bargain, kid. Their research could save your life.”

“What do you think?” Smith asked another guard.

“Take the deal,” the man said, his hand on his sidearm.

Smith glanced at the computer terminal and then back at Lauren. He spoke briefly to the other guard and then stalked out of the medical bay.

Peter turned to Lauren. “I sure hope you have a plan or something.”

“Or something,” Lauren said.

***

A low explosion echoed as the door of the gun safe popped open. Dom, Meredith, and Andris were greeted with shelves full of ammunition and weapons.

“Jackpot,” Andris said.

“Not sure I’d call it that,” Dom said, “but it’ll do for now. Grab as much as you can.”

The group indiscriminately heaved boxes of rounds into their packs. Sorting their spoils could wait until they’d made it back to the apartment. Once they finished cleaning out the safe, they ran up the stairs. Dom froze when he reached the top and signaled for the others to drop low.

“Shit,” he muttered, inching around the corner of the counter. He shouldered his rifle and aimed at what had caught his attention. A single Skull stood in the doorway. Its head swiveled back and forth, hunting. It stepped into the shop, hunched over, fingers twitching in anticipation. The damn thing must have heard the muffled pop from the explosives Andris had used to breach the gun safe. There was no sneaking past the Skull as it prowled into the store. Its feet snapped broken glass shards and kicked away pinging bullet shells. It was painfully thin, almost skeletal.

Starving Skulls, Dom thought.

He wondered whether that meant it was weaker than the others—or if it would fight even more desperately at a chance to sink its teeth into fresh meat. A low growl escaped its lips.

Dom waited for it to get close. He coiled all his strength into his muscles and sprang. He clamped one gloved hand over the creature’s mouth to prevent it from crying out. With his other hand, he slit the Skull’s throat. Warm blood oozed over his forearm as he dragged the dying monster to the floor. It fought against his grip, but it was already dying. Its limbs soon went still, and Dom let go. He motioned for the others to move.

Something above him caught his eye. Movement, not from his team. He swiveled his gun barrel up to a corner of the ceiling. Something about it triggered the alarms in his head. Then he realized it was door, a panel like one that might lead to an attic. He didn’t have time to ponder why it was opening or who was behind it when someone began shooting.

Dom dove to the side. Adrenaline churned through his blood vessels, and a sharp pain stabbed into his leg. He couldn’t tell if he’d been shot or not. He rolled into a crouch and aimed his rifle at the hideaway but didn’t fire. Meredith and Andris readied their weapons, but Dom signaled for them to hold their fire, too.

“We’re not here to hurt you!” he shouted. Dom guessed that whoever was holed up in the attic had survived the attack downstairs, and to them his team probably looked like more raiders. Dom maneuvered just beyond their line of sight. “Please, we’re friends!”

“We saw what you people did to Gary,” a deep voice replied.

“I promise you, that wasn’t us!” He started to feel guilty for stealing all their ammo. Then gunfire kicked up broken glass and floor tiles near his position. Maybe he didn’t feel as guilty as he’d thought. “We can help you!”

Meredith furrowed her brow and raised her shoulders as if to ask, Really?

A few Skulls were howling outside the shop. If they hadn’t been attracted by the explosion downstairs, the gunfire would certainly do the trick. They needed to move. And quick. But running to the exit would mean getting shot in the back.

“Get out of here now and leave everything you stole!” the man’s voice called.

Dom glanced between Meredith and Andris. He couldn’t condemn these people to die. But he also knew his crew needed ammunition.

“We shoot them and get it over with,” Andris said with a shrug. “They shot you.”

“They thought we were the raiders,” Dom said. “They didn’t try to murder us in cold blood.”

“We kind of are raiders,” Meredith said. “We just didn’t know we were taking this stuff from living people.”

Dom adjusted his pack, heavy with ammunition. “Exactly.” He started to shift it from his shoulders.

The Skulls outside shrieked. The click of claws on the street and rattle of bones grew louder. Another creature wandered through the doorway. Dom shrank back behind the counter. The Skull’s bony feet tapped on the floor as it crunched over glass and empty shells. Slowly, Dom took out his knife. The blade reflected the wan moonlight filtering in through the shop’s window. He maneuvered the knife slightly to use it as mirror. In the reflection, he watched the Skull move. It seemed to be in a trance. Its neck twisted left then right. The silhouettes of other Skulls passed across the doorway and the windows.

Dom prayed the people in the attic wouldn’t decide to play Rambo on the Skulls now. Another echoing gunshot might attract the packs of monsters swarming the street. Surely that man hadn’t survived the Oni Agent outbreak so long by being foolish.

The Skull lingered, continuing its lazy, half-interested prowl for food. It started to close in on Dom’s position. There was no doubt in his mind they’d soon have to make a run for it.

Andris held up a bag of ammunition and gave Dom a questioning look: Take it or leave it?

He had mere seconds to contemplate a choice that would likely haunt him for the rest of his life. Whoever was holed up here might be protecting his family. Maybe multiple families. On the other hand, leaving precious ammo behind would mean less firepower for the Hunters. Failing in their mission could mean a loss far more devastating than whoever was hiding in the attic.

“Andris, leave your bag,” Dom whispered, deciding on a compromise. “Meredith and I will bring ours.”

The Hunter gave him a dubious look, but there was no more time for debate. A second Skull had appeared in the doorway. A third soon joined it. The first Skull moved closer. One more step and it would have a full view of the crouching Hunters. Dom pressed himself against the counter, hoping the creature would decide to turn around and leave them alone. A long, wet drip of saliva fell from the Skull’s jaws and landed on Dom’s shoulder. He ignored it, but the splattering noise made the Skull look down.

Dom lunged up before the thing could scream and stabbed the monster through its throat. He used one gloved hand to muffle the gurgling death rattle coming from its dry, scaly lips. But that slight noise was enough to attract the other two Skulls near the entrance. They let out ear-shattering howls.

“Run!” Dom yelled.

Gunfire cracked out from the attic door. Bullets lanced into one of the Skulls, dropping it. The surviving Skull charged Meredith. More frantic gunfire sprayed from above. The rounds merely pocked and fractured the Skull’s organic armor. It carried forward until Meredith brought up her rifle and blasted the Skull’s face away. Andris dumped out his pack of ammunition, but Meredith and Dom kept theirs. They started to run for the entrance, but the man in the attic cut off their path with a few well-chosen shots.

“All of it,” the man ordered.

Dom held the Skull he’d killed with his knife like a shield. “Move it, Hunters!”

Bullets slammed into the dead Skull as Dom used it to block the shots from the attic. Each impact sent shudders through his arm. The Skull weighed more than twice a normal human, and Dom was already tired. The force of the gunshots and the Skull’s bulky weight made the task difficult, but Dom protected Meredith and Andris until the trio had made it to the doorway. Andris and Meredith slipped outside under a flurry of gunfire. Dom dropped the Skull and sprinted after them. Bullets whooshed past him, smashing into the street.

“Screw you!” the voice from the gun store attic cried as Dom slammed the store’s door shut.

Pain still coursed through Dom’s thigh. He could feel the wet blood from the grazing gunshot or glass or whatever had wounded him earlier. But that twinge of pain was nothing compared to the dread overwhelming him now. A Skull in a long, tattered dress stared at them from the middle of the street. Its bloodshot eyes gleamed with an unrestrained fury as it drew back its emaciated arms. It let out a rattling growl. Near it, another Skull with enormous spikes poking from its spine crouched on all fours atop a charred sports car. Its head tilted, its eyes narrowed, and it coiled, preparing to attack. A third Skull lowered its horn-rimmed head like a rhino ready to charge, and a fourth climbed from a fire escape ladder, its limbs coursing with gray sinew beneath its bone plates. More and more of the hungry beasts turned their heads toward the Hunters in eerie silence. The Skull wearing the dress was the first to break the quiet. She screamed a high-pitched shriek until all the others were howling, too.

As Dom squeezed the trigger of his rifle, he had to appreciate the bitter irony. They were going to need every round of the ammo they’d stolen to make it out of here alive.

-11-

––––––––

Navid wiped the flecks of dried Skull blood off his arm using a towel emblazoned with a cartoon version of George Washington. He couldn’t help but wonder what the nation’s first president would think of his country today, her citizens transformed into ruthless monsters. After cleaning himself off, he joined the others around the gift shop counter. Pieces of the radio Adam had been working on lay neglected next to the register. He pushed aside the parts and dragged a bag onto the counter.

“I don’t want anyone running off on their own again,” Adam said, rummaging through the pack.

“I won’t. I promise,” Sadie replied. “It’s just that we haven’t seen any Skulls here, and I wanted to—”

“It doesn’t matter why,” Kara said. She was tending to Maggie’s injuries. “We know it’s not safe now.”

“Right,” Adam said. He removed three plastic vials from the pack.

“What are those?” Navid asked.

“Doses of the chelation treatment,” Adam said. “Lauren only had a few prepped. I have enough here for three people. That’s it.”

Kara scratched between Maggie’s ears and kissed the dog. It seemed to Navid that she already understood where Adam was going with this. Navid did, too, and the decision ahead of them made his stomach twist into a painful knot.

“So we can give Maggie a shot?” Sadie asked. “To make sure she doesn’t change?”

Adam chewed his bottom lip for a second and then stared hard at Sadie. “That dog is part of the crew. Some of us even owe our lives to her, and, by God, she’s been a blessing.”

“Then what’s there to talk about?” Sadie said, her face already turning red. “Give Maggie the medicine.”

“I love Maggie as much as you do.” Kara rested her palm on Maggie’s side as she spoke. She looked at Adam, then Sadie. “But we don’t have enough doses for all of us as it is.”

“We can’t just let her die!” Sadie said. “Besides, none of us have been scratched. We don’t need the shots!”

Navid didn’t want to get between the two sisters. Sympathy for them and the dog weighed heavy on his mind. Hell, the dog had helped save his life back in the museum. She was loyal and selflessly protective. They might not be able to afford to lose this fifth member of their little group.

“Sadie,” Adam said in a soothing voice, “you have to realize one of us could be scratched later. Your dad and the other Hunters in the field only have a limited supply, too. What if people become infected on our way back to the Huntress?”

“Plus, we don’t know how long that’ll take or how many Skulls we’ll deal with in the meantime,” Kara added.

Sadie glared at them all and flung her arms around Maggie’s neck. “I won’t let you do it.”

“Sadie—”

Navid put out a hand, holding Kara back. He understood better than any of them the need to say goodbye. If animals really could turn, Navid hated the idea of watching Maggie morph into a Skull. He’d gone through that with Abby, and if he’d had it to do all over again, he would have put her out of her misery when she was first infected.

“It’s your call, Kara,” Adam said.

“No,” Kara said. “We’re a team. I want to know what you two think before we make a decision that could impact all of us. Besides, the Oni Agent might not even affect her. I mean, how many dogs or animals have we seen turned into Skulls?”

“Can’t say I’ve seen any,” Adam said. “But then again, I haven’t really been looking. I figured most pets were, you know, eaten by their owners before a change could take place.”

“God,” Navid said. “That’s awful.”

Kara turned to Navid. “You studied neuroscience and biology, right?”

“Almost had my PhD before everything went south.”

“Better than me,” Kara said. “Hardly even started college. I want your scientific opinion. I don’t think I’ve seen animals with all the bony growths of Skulls, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t out there. Do you think the disease is transmittable between humans and animals?”

Navid looked at Maggie and Sadie as he contemplated his answer for several long seconds. He considered everything he’d learned about the Skulls and the Oni Agent. All the scientific data the Hunters had shared. His past coursework and research. “I’m just hypothesizing here, so take everything with a grain of salt.”

“Of course,” Adam said.

“The Oni Agent is comprised of two components. The nanobacteria cause the overgrowth of bone, but it also triggers the production of prions. Given that this thing was engineered, rather than naturally occurring, I’d guess that it was designed specifically to work on humans. It makes sense if this was supposed to be a biological agent that turns people into weapons.”

“I think I followed that,” Kara said. “So you don’t think the nanobacteria could survive a dog’s immune system?”

Navid shrugged. “Truth is, I don’t know. And we won’t know for sure until it’s too late. I have a hunch that the nanobacteria would be eliminated from the dog’s system eventually. But even if that happens, the damage might’ve already been done.”

“What do you mean?” Kara asked.

“The prions,” Navid said. “If the nanobacteria have enough time to support prion production, there’s nothing we can do to stop them from taking root in the dog’s brain.”

“The prions are similar to Mad Cow Disease, right?” Kara asked. “That can be passed from cows to humans, so there’s a chance we could pass the Oni Agent to dogs.”

“Yeah, there’s a chance,” Navid said.

“I just want to get this straight,” Adam said, putting aside his jumble of electronics. “Even if Maggie doesn’t show outward symptoms of the Oni Agent, she could still be affected by it?”

“Right,” Navid said. “Kind of like those men on the ship, Ivan and Scott. They were cleared of the nanobacteria, but they didn’t get the treatment in time to stop the nanobacteria from producing prions.”

“So we either wait a few days and hope for the best, or we give her the treatment now,” Kara summed it up.

“I vote we treat the dog,” Adam said. “Maybe it’s foolish, but she’s been a valuable asset to our team.”

“As much as I don’t like saying this...” Kara’s bottom lip trembled until she steeled herself. “I disagree. I vote we wait and see. I don’t want to waste the treatment on her if someone else, a person, needs it.”

They both looked to Navid. He hated being the tiebreaker. His mind replayed the terrible moments as he watched the Oni Agent take Abby from him. Maybe Maggie wasn’t a person, but he couldn’t bear to put Sadie through even a fraction of the pain he’d experienced. “I say we do it. We treat her.”

Kara eyed him skeptically. ”Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Navid said without hesitation.

“Fine. Let’s do it.” Kara turned to Sadie. “Bring Maggie over, please.”

Sadie, who had obviously been listening to every word of their debate, threw her arms around Kara. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She kissed Maggie on the head. “You’re going to be fine, girl!”

The golden retriever’s tail beat the air and knocked a snow globe off a nearby table. She let out a joyful bark, apparently just happy to be a part of whatever it was that Sadie was celebrating.

Adam took out a prepackaged syringe and loaded it with a dose of the chelation treatment. Kara and Sadie held the dog while he administered the shot. Maggie’s ears perked and her eyes widened slightly when the needle slid through her skin, but otherwise she seemed calm. Navid hoped it worked and Maggie would remain her cheerful self. But even more so, he hoped they would have a chance to develop the potential cure Kara had discovered with the FoldIt software. The molecule she’d manipulated might have the ability to prevent prions from beginning to damage brain tissue. If it worked, then they’d never have to make a choice like this again.

“Something on your mind?” Kara asked, moving to stand beside him.

Sadie stayed near the dog, speaking to her in soothing tones, while Adam went back to his tinkering. Before he could answer, the distinct crack of gunfire cut him off. At once, the four humans and Maggie froze. A Skull shrieked. More gunfire quickly quieted it.

“That’s not the Hunters,” Adam said. “They aren’t supposed to be here yet.”

There was another chorus of howling Skulls. Navid guessed there were dozens out there somewhere, likely just beyond the estate. He looked at Maggie, then Sadie, then Kara. Four of them, two doses of chelation treatment. Navid hoped to God he hadn’t made the wrong decision.

***

Dom didn’t take the time to watch the Skull in the dress drop. He moved on to the next with rapid precision. Meredith and Andris fired in concert. The Skull on the sports car was knocked backward by the salvo. The creature hanging off the fire escape fell to the sidewalk.

Three down, but how many more to go?

Another beast careened from a city bus and ran straight at Dom. He lined his rifle up with the center of its mass. Bullets slammed into the Skull’s overgrown ribcage, forming small craters, but the Skull continued. Blood trickled from one of the wounds as Dom’s gunfire traveled up the creature’s body. A couple of shots square into the monster’s face ended its life. It slumped forward and slid across the asphalt until it jolted against a police car.

The sounds of more Skulls screaming and running blasted from both ends of the street. Their echoing voices muddled together, making it difficult to track how many were headed in their direction. Regardless, it wouldn’t be long before they were overwhelmed.

“In here!” he yelled, pointing to a pizza shop. He leapt over a Skull corpse as he rushed across the street. With a vault, he sailed through the broken window of the restaurant and landed in a corner booth. Meredith and Andris jumped through a moment later.

“Stay low,” Dom whispered. Outside, he could hear claws punching through the hoods and roofs of vehicles and dragging through the rubble-strewn street. He army-crawled across the floor, pushing aside broken dishes and torn tablecloths. A pile of bones rested over a fallen pizza pan. He avoided it, not daring to make any more noise than necessary. Rising to his knees, he opened a door to a kitchen flooded with brown water.

Dom kept his footsteps light across the puddles and mold that had overtaken the pizzeria. He played his gun barrel across the room. The sounds of the Skulls outside accompanied the steady drip of water from a leaking pipe.

“Everyone okay?” he whispered.

“Peachy,” Meredith said.

“Alive,” Andris said. “How about you, Captain?” He nodded at the wound in Dom’s leg.

“Hurts,” Dom said. Blood was soaking through his fatigues, gleaming black in the dim light. “No time for it now.”

The wound burned with each step. He could deal with it later. Bullet, glass, or Skull talon, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t survive to fix it if they didn’t get back to the others soon. With a gesture from Dom, Andris and Meredith positioned themselves around the door in the rear of the kitchen. Dom pushed it open a crack. Distant scratching and wailing flooded in, but nothing sounded in the immediate vicinity.

“Move!” he said.

They flitted into the back alley. Dom led them to cover behind a heap of black garbage bags piled next to an overflowing dumpster. Skulls ran past the entrance to the alley, still barreling toward the street in front of the gun store. The group moved from one dumpster or pile of refuse to another until they reached a T-intersection.

Dom took a right, and they snuck down another alley. The clatter of Skulls sounded from all around. One started running in their direction. They pressed themselves tight between a dumpster and a stack of soggy boxes.

Dom held his breath. The Skull’s claws clicked and scratched, closer and closer. It zoomed by without so much as a second glance. Dom breathed a sigh of relief before continuing forward. They used the cover of a car wreck to cross the next street and into another alley. Two Skulls lumbered under a fire escape, traveling far too slowly for Dom’s patience.

“Meredith?” he asked in a low voice and pointed at one of the creatures. She nodded and took out her knife. They gave their heavy packs full of ammunition to Andris. On Dom’s count, he and Meredith charged, moving swift and silent as shadows. They met the Skulls with a flurry of knife blades. Several precise cuts later, the monsters’ lives poured out around them in pools of hot crimson. Dom turned to signal Andris to join them.

“Almost there,” Dom said, taking a pack from Andris. He peeked around the corner of the alley. Very few Skulls wandered here. Together, they dashed into a bombed-out crater and ran to the other side of the street. From there, it was a short jog past a pet store with broken aquariums and empty cages in its front window. Then all they had to do was make it up the stairs to the apartment where the others were waiting.

Before they reached the apartment, a blast shook a nearby building. Dom glanced out of a window at the stairwell’s landing. They were high enough to see a building near the gun store crumble. Huge clouds of dust and debris billowed over the street. Fire licked up around the destroyed building. Swarms of Skulls were caught in the explosion, their calls rising in a storm of ghoulish voices. Creatures poured from another building, attracted by the din. Soon that building, too, was leveled.

Dom identified the source of the explosions. A smoke trail led to an Apache helicopter hovering at the end of the street. It appeared the military hadn’t let up. Skulls ran from all directions. Another building went down in a third blast, this one closer to the Hunters’ position.

“I guess we’re not spending the night here, huh?” Andris asked.

“No,” Dom said, running up the last set of stairs. The group burst into the apartment. “We got to move!”

“Already a step ahead of you, Captain,” Miguel said. He tossed Dom another pack. This one contained all the things he’d left behind when he went on the ammo run. The other Hunters lined up around the entrance. “We figured the commotion would interrupt our little sleepover here tonight.”

“Good,” Dom said. “We’re moving south. The Potomac shoreline is our best bet. We’re far enough from the Joint Force base that if things go poorly, we can swim to the other side of the river. Hunters, ready to go?”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” came the resounding chorus.

The group ran down the stairs. Spencer tried to keep up, but Dom noticed the man falling behind. New bandages were wrapped around his face, but they were already soaking through. There was a rank odor coming from the wounds.

“Spence, you okay?” Dom said as they rounded another flight of stairs.

“Sure, Captain,” he huffed, struggling to breathe. Bullets of sweat trickled down his pale face. If Dom hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought the man had already run a marathon.

He assessed the situation swiftly. Spencer’s wounds had become infected. And with a lack of antibiotics, his prognosis wasn’t good.

“Meredith!” Dom called.

She paused on the stairs as the others ran past. Dom fell in with Meredith at his side. “Spencer is in a bad place. He needs antibiotics, and this might be our last chance at finding some before we head into the woods again.”

A worried expression flickered across her face. “Understood.”

“I didn’t see any pharmacies on the way back. You?”

Meredith shook her head. “No. It seemed like everything was picked over anyway.” They continued jogging downstairs. Abruptly she turned to Dom. “But I know where we can go.”

Dom looked at her quizzically.

“This is going to sound crazy, but let’s loot the pet store.”

-12-

––––––––

“Stay here!” Shepherd yelled at Rachel. He threw his gear onto the shore and dove back into the rushing water. Rory’s pack had snagged on a low-hanging tree branch, and Shepherd swam toward it. He dove under the pack. The water was too murky for him to see. He used his hands to probe the currents and hoped Rory hadn’t let go of his pack.

Sure enough, he felt the midshipman’s arm still stuck in one of the straps. He tried to pull Rory up and out of the water. He strained and pushed off the bottom of the river, but Rory hardly moved. Something else was tugging him. A few bubbles escaped Rory’s mouth. Shepherd guessed the young man was moments from drowning. He fought against the current and positioned himself near Rory’s feet. He pushed, but the midshipman felt far heavier than his slight frame should be.

Shepherd recalled the Skulls that had leapt into the water. They’d been carried away under the waves, but he remembered how one had rolled into his legs as it drowned. Briefly surfacing, he took a deep breath then dove back to Rory’s feet. There he felt around carefully until he found something hard and sharp tangled in Rory’s pant leg. More cautious examination and Shepherd confirmed what he’d feared.

A Skull, in its death throes, had latched itself on Rory’s fatigues. In the murk and flowing water, he couldn’t untangle the fabric and clenching claws. He kicked with all his might, pushing the pack, Rory, and dead Skull toward the shore. The swift flow of the river fought against him. Every muscle in his body burned. He wouldn’t let the water win. Not now. Not so close to victory. A few more kicks and his load suddenly loosened.

“I got him!” Rachel’s voice sounded over the splash of the turbulent water. She was lying flat on the riverbank and had her hands tight around the pack.

Shepherd continued to kick until the river was shallow enough for him to stand. He helped guide Rory and the dead Skull to the shore. With Rachel’s help, he dragged Rory onto a bed of rocks and gravel. The Skull was still hanging listlessly onto the midshipman’s leg. Water lapped over its body. Rachel’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t worry,” Shepherd said between gasps. “It’s dead. Just stuck.”

Rachel seemed to understand at once. She held her ear near Rory’s mouth. “He’s not breathing.” She started administering CPR.

There was nothing else Shepherd could do at the moment. He watched, praying the midshipman would pull through. Rachel breathed into his mouth then pumped on his ribcage. She kept a steady rhythm, counting to herself. Shepherd didn’t dare say anything to break her concentration. Finally, a spray of water shot from between Rory’s lips. His head jerked up, and he coughed. Then his eyes caught the Skull, and he tried to crab-crawl away from it.

“It’s okay!” Rachel said. “It’s dead!”

Rory fell back. His face was still pale, but he nodded and continued to cough.

Rachel tried to pry the Skull’s claws from the fabric, but struggled with the task.

“Hold on,” Shepherd said, finally catching his own breath. He returned to their packs and grabbed a camping ax. With several solid blows, he severed the Skull’s claw from its wrist. Now freed, Rory backed up onto the grass and away from the river. He removed the bloody claw.

“Did it cut you?” Shepherd asked, preparing himself for the worst.

Rory’s face remained pale as he rolled up his shredded pant leg. The group let out a collective sigh of relief when no rivulets of blood or peels of torn skin appeared on Rory’s flesh.

There was no time to rejoice in Rory’s escape from his near-death experience. Once he was ready, they set off again through the woods.

The low hoot of owls and chirp of crickets reassured Shepherd that at least there weren’t swarms of skeletal predators prowling between the trees. All the same, he strained his ears to listen for any unusual sounds. Every snap of a branch or rustle of dried leaves set his nerves on edge. They carried on for half an hour, hugging the river.

“Check it out!” Rachel said. She pointed to a house near the river. There was an SUV parked on a gravel driveway near a boat ramp. A small dock jutted from the shore with a motorboat. A small sailboat, perhaps nineteen feet, sat on a trailer attached to the SUV.

And up at the house, a light flickered in a second-floor window.

Shepherd knew they could use one of the boats. It’d be a hell of a lot safer than traversing the woods, and it could get them up to Kent Island much faster. But he wasn’t about to steal what might be a civilian’s vehicle of escape. Maybe they could talk to the people holed up here. They might at least have a safe place to sleep for the night. But he vowed not to let the allure of a warm house with four solid walls dull his caution.

“Let’s see if they’re friendly,” Shepherd said. “But be careful. I want you two posted there and there.” He pointed to the rear of the SUV and a thick tree with a line of sight to the house’s porch. “I’ll knock, and you cover me. If something goes wrong, you two hightail it.”

“Yes, sir,” Rory and Rachel said.

“Good. Stay frosty.”

Water still dripped off all three of them. A cool breeze tickled the back of Shepherd’s neck. It would definitely be helpful to get inside. Trying to sleep out here as the night grew chilly could be a recipe for getting sick. And trying to run from the Skulls while coughing, sneezing, and fighting a fever wasn’t conducive to survival. A nice, warm place to dry out, maybe even a hot meal, would do them all a world of good.

He stowed his gun in his pack. He didn’t want to appear threatening to whoever was inside. Wood creaked underfoot as he walked across the porch. He rapped on the door, lightly at first. “Hello? Anyone there? I’m from the US Army. We’re looking for shelter.”

Nothing. He peeked into the windows. Curtains blocked his view. He returned to the front door and tried again. This time harder.

“Hello? I’m Commander Jacob Shepherd from the United States Army.”

He thought he heard rustling from within and pressed his ear to the door. Still, no one responded. He turned to Rachel and Rory. Both were well hidden. He held out his hands. “Doesn’t seem like—”

The crash of breaking glass sounded to his left. Something small barreled toward him. It came at him on all fours, growling and snapping. The thing leapt, and he barely had time to catch it. It was no Skull. Instead, it was covered in fur. A goddamned dog. It was a mutt, about the size of a Labrador. Its muscles rippled as Shepherd wrestled it to the ground.

“Come on, doggy,” he said between grunts, trying to soothe it. “I’m a good guy.” He did his best to gently restrain the animal, but it didn’t give up. Froth formed around its lips as it bit the air and growled. He didn’t want to hurt the dog, but he was afraid the damn thing was rabid.

“Commander!” Rachel yelled.

Another window burst open. Glass shards pelted Shepherd, but the dog’s attention didn’t waver. He heard a low growl, and this one didn’t belong to a canine. Shepherd threw the dog off him and spun in time to catch a Skull’s wrist before the claws impaled his chest. The monster swiped again, and he caught its other wrist. The Skull wore a plaid shirt and jeans, both mostly intact. Small knobs grew out of its forehead, and its teeth were just beginning to turn into pointed fangs. It hadn’t been a Skull for long.

Another Skull, child-sized, came through the window, trailed by a second, even smaller one. A fourth, an adult female, followed. Shepherd realized the whole family had come to greet him. He shoved the plaid-shirt-wearing Skull into the other three. The dog barked and growled, and the Skulls let out terrifying wails.

Shepherd ran for the cover of the tree, where Rory was guarding their packs. “Fire!”

The midshipmen’s rifles cracked into the night. Birds roosting in trees nearby took flight. One of the smaller Skulls and the plaid-shirted one dropped immediately in the flurry of bullets. The other two Skulls ran, absorbing gunfire with their overgrown, bony ribs and plates. Shepherd retrieved his rifle and turned on the creatures. He joined in the fray by sending a volley of gunfire into the mother Skull. The creature fell limp into the grass. The smallest Skull bounded over her, but its charge was ended by a round from Rachel’s rifle. The dog ignored the fate of its family and, baring its teeth, pounced at Shepherd again.

“What is wrong with you, mutt?” he yelled and backhanded the dog. It yelped and flew into a tree trunk. Its head thudded against the bark, and its body flopped to the ground. Its tongue lolled from its mouth, but its ribs moved up and down slowly. It was knocked unconscious, but not dead.

Rory stared slack-jawed at the Skulls. “They only just turned,” he said. “And the dog, it was acting crazy. What was that about, sir?”

“No idea,” Shepherd said. “Rabid? Maybe protecting its masters until the very end?”

The light upstairs still flickered. It must be a lantern, still burning long after the family turned. The distant hunting cries of Skulls sounded throughout the dark woods. The creatures had heard the gunfire. Shepherd eyed the house. They might get lucky. They could try to hide there and hope the Skulls would leave of their own accord. But Shepherd preferred relying on wits over luck. He ran to the Skull that looked to have been the father and rummaged through its pockets.

“There!” He fished out a key ring that glimmered in the moonlight. Taking the SUV would get them out of here faster than going by foot, but the increasingly loud moans of Skulls through the woods told him that might not be the best plan. 

Rachel and Rory watched him expectantly.

“Back to the river!” He ran to the docked motorboat. Rachel and Rory followed. They threw their packs in, and Shepherd primed the outboard. He yanked the starter rope. Nothing. He pulled the choke on his next attempt and tried to start it again.

Rory unscrewed the cap to the fuel tank. “It’s empty!”

“There’s got to be fuel around here somewhere!” Shepherd said.

“I don’t think we have time to find it,” Rachel said.

Shepherd looked up. All along the woods that bordered the house, Skulls were creeping from beneath the trees. Their eyes searched the area, and their heads swiveled back and forth. Dozens had come to see what had caused the clamor. Shepherd and the midshipmen were separated from them by the wide yard, driveway, and dock. The creatures hadn’t spotted them yet, but he knew it wouldn’t be long.

***

Despite the guns trained on her back, Lauren felt calmer in the laboratory. If she focused on the slides under the microscope or the assay results spitting out on the computer monitors, she could almost ignore the heavy breathing of the guards. She’d played her cards right. Coupled with Thomas’s promises, the videos had done the trick. She and her team had been granted a probationary period to perform research.

“You try something funny,” Smith had said, “and the whole team gets shot.”

She didn’t plan on trying anything funny.

At least not yet.

“Check out what I found in the Goliath tissue,” Peter said, pointing to a monitor. “GHRH.”

Sean shot him a quizzical look.

“Growth-hormone releasing hormone,” Lauren clarified. She carefully cut off a small cube of tissue from a gory block of Goliath meat that Miguel had brought from Boston. “See if we find the same results in this sample.”

“That stuff smells putrid,” Smith said, shifting near the lab hatch. “Sure it isn’t dangerous to handle?”

“I don’t think so.” Lauren shrugged. “But I guess we can’t be one hundred percent certain.”

The guard took a step back, pressing himself against the bulkhead to get as far from Lauren and the sample as possible. Seeing him react to their dissection of the Goliath and Drooler tissues provided her a bit of guilty satisfaction. She almost smiled, remembering how his face had turned a brilliant shade of green when they’d first brought out the samples.

“GHRH,” Sean said, tapping on a keyboard at another computer terminal. “That means there’s a good chance their pituitary glands are messed up.”

“It’s a chain reaction, isn’t it?” Divya added. “Something alters their GHRH production, which influences the pituitary gland, which leads to a cascade of overproduced growth hormone.”

“And then, bam,” Sean said, flexing his skinny arms. “You get a Goliath. Massive muscle and skeletal growth.”

Lauren stepped away from the computer monitor and pointed to a whiteboard. Lines and arrows and chemical names graced the board, all documenting the proposed manners in which the Goliaths had been affected. To Lauren, the display looked like one of the corkboards she’d seen on TV shows where detectives were trying to map all their evidence to pinpoint a suspect. She supposed that wasn’t too far off from what they were doing here.

“All this leads back to the hypothalamus,” Lauren said.

“What in God’s name is that?” Smith asked.

“Part of the brain,” Lauren said, not bothering to turn around and look at him. “Links the brain to the pituitary gland via the endocrine system.”

“Whatever,” Smith said. “But this doesn’t sound like the cure you promised. Just sounds like a bunch of science mumbo jumbo.”

Peter let out an exasperated sigh. “We have to do the science mumbo jumbo to find out why the Goliaths and Droolers are mutating. If we do that, we’ll be better equipped to stop it.”

Smith didn’t seem convinced, but he retreated to his spot near the hatch, silent again.

Lauren studied the whiteboard. “I have two guesses here. Either the hypothalamus is being altered by the prions or it’s experiencing undue pressure thanks to the bony growths in the Goliaths’ skulls.”

The other members of the medical team mulled it over. One by one, Lauren watched their faces fall as they understood the implication of what she’d said.

“That means there’s not much we can do to change how the Oni Agent affects Goliaths,” Peter said. “Short of curing the Oni Agent, there’s no way to protect the hypothalamus and prevent the overproduction of growth hormone, is there?”

Divya and Sean nodded.

“So that’s it? Nothing you can do against those big bastards?” Smith asked.

“Not quite,” Lauren said, feeling the eyes of the medical team on her. “There is one thing we can do. We might not be able to reverse the neurological changes, but the growth hormones rely on a very specific ingredient to form all those new muscles that make Goliaths so deadly.” She waited for someone else to pipe in with the answer, but the others appeared too discouraged to offer a solution. “Protein. They need massive amounts of protein to fuel their muscle growth. The most effective way we can stop more Skulls from turning into Goliaths is to take their food away from them. The more civilians caught defenseless in Skull-infested cities, the more Skulls will continue to feed and mutate into Goliaths.” She stared straight at Smith. “Kinsey must organize an evacuation of all survivors.”

“Easier said than done,” Smith said.

“Easier than fighting a Goliath? Have you ever faced one?”

Smith stood in silence, shaking his head.

Lauren smiled coldly. “Pray you never have to.”

-13-

––––––––

Meredith watched Dom’s brow furrow. “The pet store?” he asked.

“Trust me,” Meredith said. They pounded down the last couple of steps to the street. Choppers swarmed overhead, their gunners blasting streams of lead at the hordes of Skulls. The entire block near the gun store was up in flames now. “You can go with the others. I’ll grab the antibiotics and meet back up with you.”

“No,” Dom said as they joined the Hunters behind the vehicles lining the streets. “I’m coming with.” He turned to address the group. “Move to the woods and head south. Meredith and I are making an antibiotic run. We’ll call for the rendezvous later.”

Miguel seemed about to protest.

“Move, now!” Dom bellowed. The others followed his command, flitting between vehicles and rubble, moving away from the raging battle.

“Just you and me,” Meredith said, grinning. “Like old times.”

“Like old times,” Dom agreed.

As young operatives, they’d served together in the field on plenty of perilous missions. But Meredith had never dreamed they’d be partners in a bombed-out American city crawling with hostile monsters and indiscriminately aggressive helicopters overhead.

“You remember where that pet store is?” Dom asked.

“I think so.” She pressed her back against a semi-trailer. The sounds of the chaos all around them made it difficult to tell if there were creatures nearby. She crouched and leaned around one of the trailer’s large tires. Across the street, the alley they’d come through was now filled with Skulls, churning and running out in all directions. They wouldn’t be able to use that route again.

The loud clack of claws against metal caused her to turn. She aimed her rifle up toward the roof the semi-trailer. A Skull leapt at them, but Dom caught it with a burst from his SCAR-H before she could pull the trigger. The gunfire echoed off the brick wall. The noise attracted a fresh wave of Skulls.

“Can’t stay here,” Dom said.

“There!” Meredith pointed to a minivan with a wide-open side door. They ran to the vehicle and ducked inside. Skulls clamored behind the semi-trailer in their search for the source of the new noise. Meredith moved to the other side of the van to survey the street. Her boots cracked something, and she looked down. The scattered remains of finger bones crunched underfoot. More bones littered the van’s interior. Some were split open with their marrow sucked dry. Not a morsel of flesh or sinew was left. She tried not to think about how small those bones were and avoided looking at the children’s brightly colored backpacks abandoned on the seats.

With the back of her hand, she wiped away the grime coating the van’s window. “Looks like—”

“Duck,” Dom whispered. He dragged her to the floor of the van and pressed his body over hers.

A pack of Skulls poured around the van. Their claws clanged on the roof and kicked up debris as they ran past the vehicle. The mob mentality of the creatures was spiking with all the excitement of the gunfire and other frantic monsters cramming the streets. They all ran to the semi-trailer, where Skulls were now stabbing at the metal panels and tearing through the stacks of cardboard boxes inside.

Fear coursed through Meredith. She was helpless to stop this tide of monsters. If they were spotted now, she and Dom wouldn’t last long. Each scraping footstep and bloodcurdling wail set her nerves afire. She could hear Dom’s breathing, shallow and quiet, beside her. The worry in his eyes was evident. He couldn’t hide it from her. Not after the decades they’d known each other.

The stampede started to dwindle. Meredith peeked around Dom’s shoulder and watched a smaller Skull scramble over the windshield. One of its claws stabbed through the already fractured safety glass. It struggled to free its foot. The glass shook, and the fractures grew. Its claw soon came away, and Meredith exhaled. She waited a while in quiet as Dom slowly lifted himself off of her.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” she said, rising to her knees. “I think they’re gone.” She inched between the driver’s seat and front passenger seat. Through the dust covering the spiderwebbed windshield, she thought she saw movement. She soon realized it was a silhouette in the distance. Something far more massive than an ordinary Skull. A Goliath.

It was barreling down the street. The monster lobbed a small Honda into a building. Bricks and broken glass fell around the crumpled car. With its massive claws, it continued tossing aside any cars and SUVs in its way. There would be no hiding in the van while they waited for this Skull to pass.

“Out! Now!” Meredith said. She opened the driver’s side door and leapt out. She rolled and then crawled, desperate to remain unseen by the Goliath. Dom followed. They made it under a parked ambulance. As Meredith drew her boot under the vehicle, the van was lifted off the asphalt. It disappeared out of sight as the tree-trunk legs of the Goliath continued onward.

A second later the van came crashing down, roof-first. Metal screeched. Glass shattered. The Goliath let out a resounding bellow. Meredith could hear the squeals and squawks of smaller Skulls as they were tossed and smashed by the raging Goliath.

She army-crawled out from under the ambulance. Dom’s gunfire near the semi-trailer hadn’t just attracted the Skulls and the hulking Goliath. A chopper was flying low overhead. It shone its spotlight across the swarm. The light illuminated swathes of the creatures, moving in a quick zigzag pattern as if the people in the chopper were looking for something or someone. It didn’t matter to Meredith so long as they didn’t find her or Dom.

“Down this way,” she said. They ran with their rifles cradled. With the Skulls engaged by the choppers, they managed to move undetected the rest of the way down the street. A storefront with aquariums and cages caught Meredith’s eye. They’d finally reached their destination. She played her barrel along the sidewalk, making sure no Skulls were watching her. She and Dom dashed to the store and through a glass door that had long since been broken.

The shop was composed of three aisles. Two tall shelving units stood in the middle of the floor, demarcating these aisles. Meredith and Dom prowled through each to ensure there were no lingering Skulls. As they stepped over spilled dog food and soggy bedding, Meredith scanned the shelves.

“We need to find the fish section,” she said.

Dom gave a subtle nod. They searched until Meredith spotted a shelf filled with yellow containers full of fish food flakes, replacement filters, and a menagerie of figurines and other decorations for aquariums.

“Here!” Meredith lowered her rifle and grabbed a plastic bottle.

Dom examined the label, which was covered with colorful tropical fish. “Fish antibiotics?”

“Yep,” Meredith said. “It’s the same stuff pharmacists give people. Only, the FDA hasn’t cleared it, so they market it for fish.”

“Smart,” Dom said. “Of course people raid the pharmacies and hospitals first, but who goes to check a pet store for antibiotics during the apocalypse?”

“Me.” Meredith couldn’t help the wry grin forming across her face. She and Dom packed up all the antibiotics they found. “Should be enough for Spencer, right?”

“And anyone else who needs it.” Dom indicated his own injury.

“Goddamnit, Dom,” Meredith said. “We need to take care of that.”

“We don’t have time. Better to get further away from the madness out there first.”

“Just let me take a quick look.” Meredith pulled the blood-saturated fabric from his leg. She probed the wound and saw Dom wince slightly. There was a fairly large gash, and Meredith’s heart sank. She wondered if Dom had been ignoring it out of practicality like he’d claimed or if he feared to confront the reality that it might be a Skull-inflicted wound. “You know, we do have a couple of chelation treatments. I think Renee still has them in her pack.”

Dom grimaced. “I know.”

Meredith used her water supply to wash away the congealed blood. There was already a thin layer of pus forming in the wound. “Damnit, Dom,” she said again. “What’d you do to yourself?” She cleaned the wound. A glimmer of something caught her eye. “This is going to hurt.”

She pinched the glimmering object between her fingers and pulled out a shard of glass. Dom cringed, but seemed relieved at the sight of the glass.

“Better than a Skull claw, huh?” he said.

“Yes, but take a couple of those antibiotics. You’ll get an infection if you don’t.”

Dom nodded and unscrewed the cap to one of the plastic bottles. “Looks just like pills for people,” he remarked before swallowing a couple.

“Yep. It’s a poor man’s way to skip the pharmacy.” She finished patching up Dom’s wound with a strip of gauze and then stood. A weak squeaking caught her ears. “Did you hear that?”

Dom’s brow furrowed as he listened intently. Meredith definitely heard the squeaking again. They shouldered their weapons and crept toward the sound. It was coming from the rear of the store. She heard a slight scratching, too. Dom signaled for her to move forward; he’d cover her.

She whipped around the shelf with her rifle at the ready. But nothing jumped out. Nothing growled or swiped at her with deformed claws. The squeaking sounded from a wall lined with aquariums. Most were broken. But two on a middle shelf were still intact, and Meredith swore the noises were coming from within there.

“Mice,” she said, then peered into the neighboring cage. “And rats.”

The small creatures were nothing but flesh and bones. Clumps of fur hung off their pink skin in ragged tufts. They appeared glassy eyed and weak.

Dom lowered his weapon. “Poor things. Their water and food is all out. Can’t believe they’ve lasted this long.” He immediately moved to a nearby shelf and cradled a pile of boxes in his hand. He used his knife to quickly cut them open and poured their contents on the floor. Seeds, nuts, dried carrots, and little brown food blocks spilled everywhere. “Can’t leave these guys to starve.”

He took the tanks down and opened the lids. Gently, he tipped the aquariums over so the small, weak creatures could get to the food. Several mice began nibbling their long-awaited dinner. A rat lapped up water from a nearby puddle. “Now we can go.”

Meredith couldn’t help smiling to herself as they walked to the exit. Even in the death and destruction surrounding them, Dom’s proclivity for saving those who were defenseless—animals and humans alike—shone through.

“You think they actually have a chance?” she asked.

“Might have a better chance than us,” Dom replied. “The damn things are smart, especially rats. Had a couple as pets when the girls were younger. Cuddly animals.”

Meredith shot him a look she knew bordered on disgust, but Dom appeared absolutely serious.

“Seriously, they make great pets.”

They stopped by the front entrance of the store. The distant sound of thumping chopper blades and gunfire continued. Skulls howled louder and, from what Meredith could tell, closer. A small pack of the creatures ran along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.

“Glad you saved the little guys, then,” Meredith said. “But now let’s save us.”

***

More gunshots sounded across the property. Kara sprinted to the front of the gift shop and looked through the window. Muzzle flashes exploded beyond the parking lot like pointed lightning strikes.

“You’re sure it’s not the Hunters?” Kara asked.

“Absolutely,” Adam said. “Last time I heard from Miguel, they were near Alexandria. That wasn’t more than a few minutes ago.”

Maggie stood next to Kara. The fur bristled along her haunches, and she growled, baring her canines.

“It’s okay, girl,” Sadie said, petting the dog. “We’re safe inside.”

Kara wished that was true. While it might be harder for Skulls to find them, people would have no issues getting into the restaurant and gift shop. Whatever trouble they’d run into out there could follow them in.

“Do you think these people need our help?” Navid asked. He hovered near where the group had placed their weapons.

Kara admired the young scientist’s philanthropic thinking. But she wasn’t sure charging out into the night during a firefight was such a great idea. After all, Adam was the only one with military training, Navid had hardly any firearms experience, Sadie wasn’t even a teenager, and Maggie had already gotten herself into more trouble today than Kara would’ve liked. She went to the group’s packs and grabbed a pair of night-vision binoculars. Adjusting their focus, she scanned the parking lot and the trees that lined it. There was movement where she’d seen the gunfire. Shapes bled out of the shadows and into the moonlit parking lot. Dozens of them. But they weren’t hunched over like the Skulls. No strange protrusions jutted from their arms or shoulders or spines. They walked calmly, not like a group that had just been in a gunfight.

Adam joined her with a pair of his own binoculars. “What in the hell’s going on?”

“Don’t know.”

She could see the people now even without the binos. They each carried a long gun, and they were circled around something. Kara’s stomach twisted when she saw what it was. A live Skull. Probably no more than four and a half feet tall, it had short horns curling from its forehead. It only had one arm. That arm ended in the characteristic scything claws Kara knew could slice through flesh with ease, but now it looked pathetic. The small monster wailed and ran at one man. He kicked the Skull in the face, and Kara thought it looked like he was laughing at the creature. He leveled his gun and fired.

The shotgun blast resounded. The Skull reeled and fell. Its remaining arm had been blown off. The monster fell to its knees. Another man kicked it from behind. He aimed then fired. The Skull tried to stand but failed again. Its right leg was devastated, hanging off by only a few sinews. Then one man stepped forward and stomped hard with his boot. His foot landed against the back of the Skull’s head. He ground the monster’s face into the asphalt until its flailing stopped. Kara thought she heard laughter coming from the group.

They turned away from the dead Skull and started walking again. The group drew nearer. They carried their guns lazily over their shoulders. Most wore camouflage that looked like it had been purchased at an Army surplus store. Several had long beards, and others sported backward baseball caps.

“Are they military?” Sadie asked.

“If they were, I doubt they are now,” Adam said.

The men used the stocks of their weapons to break the windows of the cars and trucks. They scoured the vehicles for a couple of minutes before turning their sights to the ticketing booths at the entrance to the Mt. Vernon estate.

“Who are they?” Sadie asked.

“Hard to say,” Adam said. “But I don’t think we want to wait around to ask. Grab your stuff and let’s go.”

Kara headed toward her things. Her heart was pounding as she watched Sadie grab a duffel bag with her belongings. If the men were going through the normal tourist entrance, they might have an extra five, ten minutes before they reached the gift shop. She bent to pick up her rifle.

Something creaked outside. A man was leaning against one of the windows to the gift shop, his hands pressed on the glass. He peered inside.

“Down, everyone!” Kara hissed. Navid, Sadie, and Adam immediately dropped.

But Maggie, ever vigilant, began barking. The man yelled something, and more footsteps sounded, headed in their direction.

-14-

––––––––

Dom ran from the entrance of the pet store. A pair of trailing footsteps told him Meredith was close behind. They would head west a block or so to avoid the probing helicopters and swarming Skulls. Acrid smoke, carried by the wind, stung his nostrils. The odor was complemented by the distinct smell of burning flesh.

He continued on, his thoughts turning toward his daughters, the Hunters, and the Huntress. Just a bit further and they’d be free from the Joint Force Base’s reach and away from the dense urban sprawl. He took a hard left and followed a different alley than before. This one was narrower, barely wide enough to fit a compact car. A dumpster took up most of the path in front of him. He sucked in his stomach and pushed past it.

A swishing sound immediately followed. He instinctively ducked, and bony claws scraped against the brick wall. The Skull hissed at him, and Dom used his rifle to shove it into the opposite wall. The monster bit and struggled against his grip. He parried the creature’s attacks with his rifle. Bone rang out hollowly against metal. His back was pressed against the wall as the creature struck out more violently. A heavy bash from his rifle stock knocked the Skull’s jaw askew, and he followed up with another strike that caught the side of the Skull’s head. Its temple collided with the wall. Blood trickled from the wound, and Dom delivered a finishing blow that laid it flat.

Meredith squeezed between the dumpster and the alley wall. “Damn, you could’ve waited for me.”

They carried on jogging south, pausing briefly at a stoop with a recessed doorway. Two Skulls had their faces buried in something wet and glistening. No doubt a body. One scooped out a handful of ropey organs. It shoveled the gore into its mouth and slurped it up in a disgusting display of poor table manners.

Dom lowered his rifle, and Meredith arched an eyebrow in response.

“They’re focused on food,” Dom said. “No need to waste ammo or attract any more.”

Meredith nodded and slung her SCAR-H over her shoulder. She took out a knife.

“You take the left,” Dom said. They crept down the alley like stalking tigers, staying low and quiet. They paused near an overturned trash can. Dom counted down with his fingers.

Three.

Two.

One.

They leapt in tandem. Meredith’s blade flashed and then plunged into her target’s eye. The blow wasn’t immediately fatal, and she dug the knife deeper until the Skull’s movements ceased. Dom twisted the other Skull’s neck until it snapped. Bone fragments chipped off, and he dropped the dead creature in the pile of blood and guts it had been feasting on.

“Nice work,” Dom said. “Deadly as ever.”

“Not so bad yourself,” Meredith replied.

Even now, covered in blood and dirt, Meredith was magnificent. He had to admire her prowess and the fierce gleam in her eyes as she retrieved her knife and wiped it clean on her fatigues. They’d worked well together, executing the strike flawlessly. A feeling of victory coursed through him, but he vowed not to let his confidence get the better of him.

They pushed their way past another heap of torn garbage bags. The end of the alley was in sight. Shadows cast by flickering fires played along the walls, while all around the monsters screamed and wailed. Dom approached the alley’s exit slowly. His finger hovered next to his trigger guard, and the stock of his rifle was pressed snugly against his shoulder. With one deliberate, careful step after another, he prowled forward. He heard Meredith adjust her pace behind him, matching his stride.

A Skull appeared in the alleyway’s exit. It skidded to a stop and twisted to face them. The shredded remains of an overcoat flapped around its spindly spikes and gnarled horns like the cape of some mutant supervillain. Dom went stock-still, hoping the darkness would conceal them.

But the Skull was not so easily fooled. It belched a raucous howl that bounced off the narrow alley’s walls. A contingent of Skulls rushed in behind it. Their screams joined the caped monster’s, and soon all their claws were clattering along the asphalt toward Dom and Meredith.

He didn’t need to tell Meredith to retreat. He delivered a salvo of gunfire before joining her. More and more Skulls poured in. Pushing and shoving each other, they clogged the mouth of the alley. The struggle gave Dom and Meredith an extra few seconds to return the way they’d come. Dom tried to recall another intersection, another exit. More Skulls clamored behind them.

There had to be a way out.

“Shit!” Meredith screamed. Creatures started to blot out the flicker of flames at the opposite end. Attracted by the screaming pack, they charged into the alley. Dom and Meredith were surrounded by brick walls and bony claws. There was only one way to go.

“Up!” Dom yelled. He climbed onto a dumpster and leapt at a fire escape ladder. He wrapped his fingers tight around the cold metal of the bottom rung. His rifle slapped against his back as he swung. The ladder started sliding down under his body weight, and he scrambled up it to a set of stairs. He and Meredith scaled them to the third floor of the building. The Skulls started jumping from the dumpster, too. Some tried to dig their claws into the mortar between the bricks and climb up that way. The first few made it to the second floor as Dom and Meredith rounded up to the fourth.

Dom clenched his jaw. He focused on his breathing rather than on the pain coursing through his leg. The clang of the Skulls on the fire escape helped keep him moving. Soon, they reached the flat roof of the apartment. He clambered onto it and stretched down to help Meredith. The Skulls weren’t far behind, with the caped monster leading the charge. Dom unleashed a spray of gunfire at their scalps. A few were knocked down by the blasts. But their bodies quickly disappeared beneath the carpet of monsters. More and more scaled the fire escape. The weight of the creatures started to pull the metal from the brick. Bolts popped and fasteners groaned.

Dom and Meredith shot another volley into the creatures. It hardly dissuaded the roiling mass of Skulls, so they turned and ran to the far edge of the roof. The burning in Dom’s thigh was growing worse. It needed to be properly treated, probably stitched. Blood had already soaked through the gauze Meredith had placed over it. But he wouldn’t let it stop him now.

He leapt over the narrow alley and onto the neighboring roof. His boots hit hard. He tried to keep his joints loose, but momentum carried him forward, and he rolled. Meredith landed more gracefully, managing to stay on her feet. Several Skulls hopped onto the roof behind them. Dom lined one up in his sights and fired. Bullets crashed against its armor plating and sparked on the bricks. The Skull fell. But more continued to climb.

“No use trying to shoot them all,” Meredith said.

Dom nodded and slung his rifle across his back. They jumped to the next building. This one’s roof was at an angle, and Dom had to grasp a metal pipe to keep from sliding off. As he tightened his grip, he took a glance down. It was a six-story fall. If the drop didn’t kill him, the Skulls down there would. He and Meredith ran along the edge of the slanted roof. A howl behind them caught his attention. The demonic caped Skull was closing in on them. He tried to pin the creature in his sights, but trying to remain steady on the steeped roof while the Skull leapt crazily after him proved too difficult.

“Let’s go!” Meredith yelled as more Skulls deftly ran along the sloped roof. The incline was no obstacle for them as their claws dug into the tiled roof. The few that did lose their balance and fall were quickly replaced by others in the suicidal chase for prey.

Agony jolted through him with every painful step. Meredith led now. She loped ahead to the edge of the roof, then stopped. Dom caught up a moment later, his breathing labored. The next apartment building had been devastated by bombs. There was no roof. What remained were skeletal columns of rebar-reinforced concrete sticking out of charred rubble. Not only was there a wider alley between that building and the one Dom stood on, but there was at least a ten-foot height difference. No matter how Dom measured it, he’d be dealing with a significant drop. He wasn’t sure his leg could take it.

A loud howl sounded from behind. The caped Skull was relentless.

“You ready for this?” Meredith asked, eyeing his injury.

“Don’t have a choice.”

She backed up and then sprinted at the edge. With a grunt, she leapt. Her arms pinwheeled, but she landed in the blown-out living room of an apartment. She hit the floor hard and skidded into what was left of a wall.

“Come on,” she yelled, dusting herself off.

Dom shot a final burst into the Skulls, which were now just a dozen yards away. He ignored the agony shooting through him with each step and made a mad dash to the edge. Every muscle fiber and nerve ending seemed to explode when he jumped. His legs kicked in the open air. The bombed apartment’s living room came at him fast. Too fast. His boots slammed against the rubble-covered floor, and he stumbled. Momentum carried him into the wall, and everything began to ache at once.

Meredith pulled him to his feet.

“Thanks,” he said, hobbling through the destroyed apartment after her. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably wouldn’t have half as much fun taking these bastards out.”

“Won’t argue with you there.”

Meredith kicked down a door already swinging off its hinges, and it fell flat into the hallway, dust pluming around it. She coughed, waved away the dust, and they rushed through the hall. An emergency exit sign hung off the side of one wall, barely holding on by a couple of wires.

“There,” Dom said. He opened the stairwell door and took the first step. But the entire stairwell was clogged by debris. “Shit.”

They returned to the hallway. He could hear the hunting cries of the Skulls and then the thuds as they made the leap to the apartment building. Dom shouldered into a nearby door and burst into another apartment. Meredith followed, and he slammed the door shut.

“Miguel,” Dom said over the comm link. “Tell me you all are having better luck than Meredith and me.”

“We’re bored, if that’s what you mean, Chief,” Miguel’s voice came back. “Can we lend a hand?”

“Rather you didn’t,” he said, looking at Meredith. “We’re going to have to get out of this one on our own. No sense in all of us getting mired in this hellhole.”

“Whatever you say,” Miguel said, “but we’re here if you need us.”

“Let’s hope we don’t. Over.”

Heavy footsteps resounded throughout the hall. The frustrated howls of the Skulls filled the air. He pushed aside a toppled kitchen table and moved along the short hall past the kitchen.

“Got to be another fire escape,” Dom said, checking out a window.

“If the bombing didn’t take it out.”

He nudged open another door. It led to a bedroom. The mattress had burned until only the springs remained. Soot drifted and danced with the wind. Dom checked for a fire escape but found no easy way down to the street. The scrape of claws and screaming Skulls was getting louder. It wouldn’t be long before they busted down the door. Once one of the damned things accidentally stumbled on Dom and Meredith, it’d be a bloody fight out of here.

With a nod, he indicated another door leading off from the bedroom. Meredith strode toward it, and Dom pushed the door open. He was greeted by a familiar gurgling sound that quickly rose in volume. A creature stood before him with holes in its neck and chest. Brown acid splattered against the floor, sizzling where it landed. Only half of a jaw hung from the void that used to be its mouth. Its bloodshot eyes dilated at the sight of Dom, and its chest started to quake. The gurgling intensified as the Drooler prepared to spray.

-15-

––––––––

Meredith stared at the Drooler for a brief moment. Its gargling grew louder. She had mere seconds before the mutated Skull spewed its vile acid, and shooting it would only spray acid all over them. Running at the twisted abomination, she rammed the Drooler with the stock of her rifle and continued to push until the back of its skinny legs caught on the bathtub. Its spikes snagged the shower curtain around the tub. Tangled, it fell, flailing and gurgling all the while. The curtain tore from the rod as the Skull went down.

A hand wrapped around her waist, and she was tugged backward. Dom threw her away from the bathroom door and slammed it shut. A terrible noise sounded from inside. The wet splatter of acid was followed by the sizzling of the liquid as it burned through the door.

After a few moments, Dom kicked open the remains of the decrepit door, and the wooden panels fell from the hinges. Acid was dripping from the ceiling, and more of the brown gunk was eating through the bathroom floor. The Drooler twisted back and forth in the tub, trying to free itself. But each time it moved, it further entangled its spikes and horns in the plastic shower curtain.

“Here’s what we’re looking for,” Meredith said, pointing to the bathroom window. She could see the rails of the fire escape between the splatters of dripping acid on the glass.

The Drooler growled, weak and whiny, but the gurgle of its spray hadn’t started up yet. Dom prowled toward the window.

“Careful,” Meredith said. “Watch out for that gunk.” She gestured to the puddles and made sure each footstep landed in as dry a spot as she could find. The floor creaked worryingly. She unlocked the window and tried to slide it up. The wooden frame, exposed to the elements because of the bombed-out roof, was swollen with water. Meredith looked out the window and saw a few Skulls lingering in the alleyway below. More crawled through the street. Breaking the window would send noisy, tinkling glass shards to announce her and Dom’s presence. Not ideal.

Scratching sounded at the front door of the apartment, and Meredith froze. It seemed the Skulls were trying to make their way in. She wasn’t certain if they’d heard the Drooler’s attack or if the smell of the acid had attracted them.

Dom aimed his rifle at the creature struggling in the tub. Its claws clicked against the cheap fiberglass. “It’s making too much noise.”

Meredith started using her knife to pry the window from the swollen frame. “Remember what happens when you shoot those things in the belly.”

“Right,” Dom said. “Don’t want this bastard exploding and spraying acid all over us.” He lowered his rifle and took out his knife. With a powerful downward strike, he stabbed the blade straight through the creature’s acid-weakened skull and into its brain. At once it went still, and its head flopped sideways. Acid poured out of its mouth, sizzling as it spilled across the tub.

The window finally started to give. Meredith applied more force, and it popped free. She grabbed the bottom of the window and grunted as she pushed it open. She could get both arms out, but they needed more room to leave with their packs. The floor groaned under her weight as she used her legs for more leverage.

A deep rumble sounded.

The floor disappeared from under her.

Meredith fell. She hit something hard, and pain radiated up her tailbone and through her arms and legs. Debris crashed all around, and something landed on her. Dust clouds puffed up. She shook her head, trying to clear it. The floor had finally given way, and she was now in the apartment below where they’d started. Dom was lying on top of her, his face pressed against hers.

“Never felt so close to you before,” Dom managed with a forced smirk.

If it weren’t for the pain in her back and the immediate danger they faced now, maybe, just maybe, this would’ve felt sexier. Before she could come up with her own rejoinder, Meredith heard more wood groaning and looked up to see the tub with the dead Drooler starting to tip into the fresh hole in the bathroom floor. She rolled Dom to the side just as the tub plummeted straight where they’d been. Its heavy weight punched through the next floor, kicking up splintering wood and cheap tile. There was a support beam still in place beneath the torn floor. She balanced on it carefully to reach this bathroom’s window.

Above, she heard the sounds of freshly tearing wood and the staccato of clicking claws. The Skulls had made it into the apartment. So much for stealth. She slammed her rifle into the window until the glass rained out of the frame. She threw her and Dom’s packs out onto the fire escape.

“You good?” she asked him.

“Ready to get the hell out of here!”

They squeezed through the small window and rushed down the steps until they hit the last landing on the fire escape. Meredith hopped onto the ladder, and her weight carried it down until it slammed into the asphalt. Vibrations resonated through the rungs and into Meredith’s hands as if she’d just used an aluminum bat to hit a fastball. Two nearby Skulls ran headfirst at her. She wasted no time in ending them with a couple of well-placed rounds.

Dom slid down the ladder like a practiced fireman. His boots slapped the ground, and a grimace shot across his face. He rolled, grabbing his thigh wound for a second, before pushing himself to his feet. The macho bastard wouldn’t admit how badly he was hurt, and Meredith was torn between concern for his well-being and frustration over his stubbornness.

Another Skull with a bright-yellow construction worker’s vest careened past a dumpster at Dom. He swiveled in time to dodge the Skull’s charge. He grabbed its protruding shoulder blades and slammed its head against the brick wall, using the creature’s own momentum against it. Blood and bone fragments sprayed from its fatal wound.

Without a word, they sped down the alleyway to the street. Meredith felt like she was running on autopilot. Each Skull that got in their way was ended with either a concentrated spray of bullets or a well-placed blow to the head from a rifle stock. The violent attacks began to blur together, and Meredith realized that she’d long since lost track of how many Skulls she’d killed that day, even that hour.

When they reached the street, they followed it east. Dense trees shielded them from the hordes of Skulls Meredith heard howling and screaming at the apartment. Small houses lined the cracked one-way street. She and Dom continued running in the grass beside the road to muffle their footsteps. They started to slow when they came to the end of the street.

“We don’t get many chances for a romantic stroll through the neighborhood like this,” Dom said.

“Nothing more romantic than being strapped down with weapons, covered in Skull gore, and smelling that rotten Skull odor drifting on the wind,” Meredith said, pushing through a thick outcropping of trees and bushes to the wide-open expanse of a golf course. She could make out the scattered silhouettes of wandering Skulls. The creatures trudged across the rolling landscape aimlessly. Meredith hoped it stayed that way.

“Miguel, Dom here,” he said into the comm link. “We’re near a golf course just outside the city. What’s your location?”

“Dyke Marsh Wildlife Preserve.”

Meredith pulled the map up on her smartwatch and found the location in seconds. She shared it with Dom.

“Excellent. What’s the best route?”

“Get through the golf course and follow the Potomac. You can’t miss us, and you’ll avoid plenty of Skulls that way.”

When they ended their comms with Miguel, Meredith caught Dom’s eyes. “I hate golf courses, and I’ve never been a fan of those golf resorts.”

“Why? Too much open space?”

“No, I just suck at golf.”

“That makes two of us,” Dom said. “If I’m going to a resort, the only water hazards I want to mess with are the poolside bars.”

“Next stop after getting the ship back: Nassau.”

Dom shot her a meaningful look.

“Fine, we can save the world first. Then Nassau.”

“Then Nassau,” he agreed.

They set out once more, and true to Miguel’s word, their journey to the rendezvous with the rest of the Hunters was uneventful. They spotted several Skulls, but most of the creatures had been drawn to the city. Meredith guessed the ongoing skirmish with the military had helped clear this area out. She and Dom followed a running path that took them alongside the river. It hadn’t been so long ago that Meredith had actually used this path when she ran the annual Marine Corps Marathon, yet another harsh reminder that people only ran for survival now—not recreation. They stuck to the bushes and ditch beside it for cover until they reached a series of small wooden bridges through a marsh. A low, birdlike whistle caught their attention. Shapes moved out of the shrubs to their right. Meredith tensed, but then one of the figures gave a friendly wave. It was Miguel and the rest of the Hunters.

She rushed first to Spencer and gave him a dose of antibiotics to help with his infection. The group shared water and rested for a few minutes before continuing the hike south to Mt. Vernon. If they kept up their current pace, they could be there within a few hours. Meredith could almost sense the excitement in Dom’s gait. Careful and stealthy as he was, there was an air about him she recognized. It was the same thing she’d seen back when they’d been partners and they’d just finished an assignment. It meant he would be seeing his family soon.

They trudged silently through the muck and brush. The cries of Skulls became more sporadic. There were no more distant cracks of gunfire or the thumping of helicopter blades. But the quiet was abruptly shattered by a call over the comm link.

It was Adam. “Dom.” His voice was panicked and shaky. “Dom, you there? We’re in danger.”

***

Kara packed the rest of her belongings in a hiking bag and grabbed Maggie’s collar. Adam was speaking to her father over the radio he’d been working on as they hurried from the gift shop. Navid gently shut the back door behind them. Before it closed, she heard the sound of the front door crashing open. Voices boomed, angry and excited.

“Where’s that fucking dog?”

“You making shit up again?”

“Fuck you!”

“I heard the damn thing, too. That’s good eating.”

Sadie grabbed her sister’s sleeve. “They don’t sound friendly,” she whispered.

“No, they don’t,” Kara said.

The group ran down the stone walk behind the shop toward the reconstructed slave quarters. Probing lights shone, flashing from inside the windows of the mansion, and more voices rang out.

“Looks like we weren’t the only ones who thought this would be a decent hideout,” Navid said, clutching a rifle to his chest.

“They’re everywhere,” Kara muttered.

“It was too good to be true,” Adam said. His glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose, and he adjusted them. “Best bet is to get the Zodiac. We can travel upriver and meet the others.”

Something crashed through one of the mansion windows. A huge portrait, glass raining around it, hit the ground. The frame cracked and broke. The distinct guffaws of several men followed.

“That’s for you, Martha!” Kara stared at the ruined portrait of Martha Washington. The thrum of motorcycle engines rumbled across the lawn in front of the mansion. Tires kicked up soil and grass, tearing through vegetable and flower gardens. As more and more of the men joined the mob, Kara found she was almost more scared of them than the Skulls. At least she could predict the creatures’ instinctual behavior. These men were arrogant, wild, and apparently unafraid of the Skulls. Whether it was out of pure ignorance and stupidity or a true testament to their ruthlessness and power, they weren’t people she wanted to encounter. Kara was more than happy to follow Adam out of the estate before the men caught wind of them.

They ran down the sloping hill behind Washington’s mansion past the stables. Lights shone from several of the smaller buildings now as the men searched the estate. Adam raced down a dirt path, constantly playing his gun barrel before them, as Kara, Sadie, Maggie, and Navid followed. Soon, the pathway dead-ended at a small wharf where they’d left the Zodiac from the Huntress.

Adam signaled for them to stay low. He prowled the shoreline. As he drew near, lights from within the wharf flickered on.

A voice from inside yelled, “Check this shit out!”

Four more men came running down a path opposite from where Kara and the others hid. Their boots stomped over the wooden planks as they rushed to examine the Zodiac. Kara’s heart sank. Sadie interlaced her fingers with Kara’s and squeezed tightly. Adam had dropped to the ground, and now he hugged the riverbank to remain out of sight as he slowly made his way back to Kara and the others. One of the men pushed the Zodiac into the river, and then the others hopped in. They started the motor and raced the boat in circles. They hollered and laughed as they took the craft northward along the river, back toward the steep lawn behind the mansion. More men, all cradling weapons, walked down the path to the wharf. Like those Kara had seen in the parking lot, they wore varying amounts of camouflage. A few had bandanas over their hair or tied under their necks. One wore a necklace that Kara thought was made out of Skull claws. She shuddered.

“If that boat’s here, some of those military bastards are probably around here, too. Don’t let ‘em out alive,” the man with the Skull-claw necklace yelled at the others. He directed them to break up into small groups and search the property.

Adam returned a moment later. His glasses were slightly askew, and he was out of breath. “We need to get out of here. We can meet the Hunters somewhere else.”

“Who the hell are these guys?” Navid asked. “Some kind of survivalists?”

“Marauders, looters, I don’t care what they are,” Kara said, “but I want to get out of here.”

One of the groups had started up the dirt pathway. Adam gestured for Kara and the others to run. Kara was the fastest runner of the group, and she led them off the path and into the woods. They dodged between trees and leapt over fallen logs. In the distance, she heard the rumble of truck engines and the coarse shouts of the raiders as they looted the estate. When she reached the riverbank, Kara turned to see military trucks drive straight through the wooden fences surrounding the livestock enclosures. Several of the men started loading boxes from the gift shop and restaurant onto the trucks, and Kara hoped that they might just take the supplies and go.

Adam seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Might be safer if we lay low. Let them do what they came to do. There’s no easy way off the estate without running into them.” He slowed as they pushed deeper into the woods near the ticketing booth and main entrance.

The parking lot ahead was filled with men on motorcycles, plus a couple of parked SUVs. Sadie huddled up to Kara as they watched in silence. Kara kept her grip on Maggie’s collar tight and clamped one hand around the dog’s muzzle. Adam and Navid crouched with their weapons shouldered and at the ready. They waited like that for several minutes. When three men started walking toward the edge of the woods, Adam drew himself up a little taller and aimed at one of them. He gestured for Navid to do the same.

“Hold Maggie,” Kara whispered to Sadie. She got a bead on the third man with her own gun. She kept her breathing shallow and light, ready at any moment to pull the trigger. Every bit of her focus was concentrated on those men. This was just like hunting with her father, she told herself. Waiting all day in the deer blind and relying on practiced patience when a buck finally came into view.

The men stopped short of the trees, and one lit a cigarette. He passed a lighter to the other two, and they all shared a smoke. She couldn’t understand why anyone would dare suck in that poison now. Tarring the insides of their lungs wouldn’t help them outrun a pack of Skulls. She lowered her rifle and started to draw back into the underbrush.

“Drop it and turn around slowly,” a menacing voice said from behind them, followed by the click of a pistol hammer.

Kara clenched her jaw. She’d been so intent on the smokers that she’d allowed them to be flanked. Judging by the frustrated look on Adam’s face, he shared a similar sentiment.

“Go on, now,” the man said, his voice smooth. “Set ‘em down right there.”

Kara lowered the rifle. Adam and Navid placed theirs beside it.

“Now turn around slowly.”

Kara turned to see the person who’d outwitted them. It was the man wearing the Skull-claw necklace. Four more men stood behind him. One wore shoulder pads made of Skull plates. Another had fashioned a helmet spiked with bones. The hunger and intelligence in their gazes rivaled the hate in the Skulls’ bloodshot eyes.

“Nice guns you have there.” The Skull-claw necklace man smirked and gestured casually to his small gang. “As you can see, you four aren’t the only hunters in these woods.”

-16-

––––––––

Navid was thrown against the tiled floor. His arm hit first, followed swiftly by his face. Pain shot up his elbow and through his already broken hand. The injury was a constant reminder of his battle with the cowardly traitor James atop the Mass Gen hospital. Not all those who had survived the outbreak were as noble and selfless as Kara’s family and the Hunters.

“Look what we caught!” the man with the Skull-claw necklace yelled. The gang’s cheering voices filled the room. When the Skull-claw man had first mentioned being hunters, Navid had feared he was referring to the actual Huntress and Dom’s crew. He’d thought these people might be some strange paramilitary or counterintelligence group looking to root out the real Hunters. But the statement had been nothing but an ironic coincidence. These men weren’t anything as sophisticated as a military unit.

They were savages.

A steel-toed boot caught Navid under his ribs. The blow knocked the breath out of him. He curled up in agony as the Skull-claw man laughed.

“Boys, we finally got some fresh meat!”

More laughter.

Navid had no idea if the man meant his words literally. He tried to conjure pleasant memories of Abby, tried desperately to think of anything that would prevent him from becoming a blubbering, hysterical mess begging for his life. But another kick to the gut short-circuited his mind with pain.

Another body landed hard on the floor next to him. With her hands tied behind her back, Kara had no way to break her fall. She caught Navid’s gaze. The young woman had showed unwavering bravery in the short time Navid had known her. She had been so determined to find a cure, to reunite with the Hunters, to help her father save the world from the Oni Agent. Now in her eyes, Navid saw nothing but fear and desperate anger.

The men treated Sadie no better, tossing her down next to her sister.

A rope was wound tightly around Maggie’s muzzle, and they tied her up to a column in the middle of the room. The dog whined, her tail between her legs, as she watched her human family helplessly. Adam was shoved down next. His glasses fell off and skidded away. The Skull-claw man stomped on them and ground the pieces with his boot.

The man circled the group, posturing for the crowd. Navid struggled to his knees. This time no one kicked him or pushed him. If they planned to kill him, he at least didn’t want to die lying on his back.

“What are we going to do with them?” the Skull-claw man asked.

The men threw out all kinds of vulgar answers. Navid cringed at the suggestions, and he prayed the Skull-claw man didn’t intend to follow through with any of them. But the way some of them were eyeing Kara and even Sadie made him sick.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” the Skull-claw man said. He sauntered to Sadie. Using the tip of a knife, he lifted her chin up slightly. The point dug into her skin, and a trickle of blood coursed down her neck. Some of the men snickered. He moved to Kara next and pinched her cheek with his thick fingers. She cursed at him, but her words only made him laugh.

Then he walked to Navid and knelt in front of him. The man’s eyes were a warm shade of brown, and in any other face, they might have been friendly. Pitted acne scars marred his skin. He had a neatly trimmed beard, unlike the matted facial hair worn by many of his compatriots. His black hair was pulled back in a tidy ponytail. He smiled at Navid, showing off a glint of gold among his brilliant white teeth. “What’s that look for, boy? You mad?”

He grabbed a handful of Navid’s hair and yanked his head back. The sudden movement twisted Navid’s neck painfully. He caught himself before crashing to the floor and pushed himself upright.

He rubbed one of the Skull claws on his necklace. “You want a job with my boys?”

“Fuck you.”

The man laughed, and the rest of his men echoed the sound. He started to walk away but then turned back. The laughing stopped as the brute backhanded Navid. The force sent him sprawling, and his head cracked sickeningly on the floor. His vision swam in waves of red and black. Then boot after boot connected with Navid’s ribs. He was kicked around by a flurry of painful blows until his mind started to go hazy.

At last the beating stopped. Navid groaned. It hurt to breathe. He tasted something coppery and spit out a mouthful of blood. With his head still pounding, he forced himself to his knees once more. He expected to be swatted down again, but the man with the Skull-claw necklace had already moved on.

“Who the hell are you?” Adam said.

“Does that really matter?” The man was circling Adam, prowling like a beast. “Name’s Rick Lyon. Used to be a pencil pusher for the US Treasury. Thought I had a pretty good life. Thought I was safe.” He stopped and used the seven-inch knife he wielded to push Adam’s head to his right. He examined the Hunter like a predator with its prey. “Guess I was wrong, huh? Got to protect ourselves now. Got to survive on our own.”

“Then get on with it,” Adam said. “Let us go. You can have our guns, our packs, food. Everything.”

Rick laughed, toying with his Skull-claw necklace. “We’ve already got all that.” He planted a boot on Adam’s chest and knocked the man over. “You’re a fool if you think you’re in a position to bargain for anything. The only deal left is between us.” He held out a hand to indicate the men gathered around. “We’ll be figuring out what to do with you and”—he leered at Kara—“who gets to do it.”

“You asshole.” Adam surged up. With his hands still tied behind his back, he slammed his shoulder into Rick’s chest. Caught off guard, the man fell. Adam kicked him in the groin and stomped on his face. He moved to kick him again, but several of Rick’s cronies rushed in. They surrounded Adam and attacked like a pack of wild dogs. Adam didn’t cry out in pain. Navid couldn’t tell whether it was because he was too macho to cry out or if he’d already been beaten unconscious.

“Stop!” Kara cried. “Please, stop!”

Sadie was sobbing now. Maggie pulled against her rope, growling and yelping as best she could with the muzzle. Navid couldn’t bear to watch any longer. Adam had jeopardized his life so many times for them. He didn’t deserve this. No one did.

With his head pounding and blood dripping from his nose, Navid stood, wavering slightly. Rick’s gang was too focused on Adam to notice. Rick himself was still lying on the ground. Navid crouched beside him. He used the Skull claws on the barbaric necklace to tear at his ropes. He could only hope that the nanobacteria in the claw had already died off. Rick wouldn’t be risking his own ass by wearing them, right? The answer didn’t matter to Navid as his bonds broke.

He tore Rick’s necklace off. There were several long claws in the center of the chain, and he held one out like a knife. The group was still focused on beating Adam senseless, so Navid lunged at the closest man, taking him by surprise. The Skull claw met the flesh of the man’s neck. Warm blood spilled over Navid’s hand.

Never in his life had he imagined he would take another man’s life. And yet this was the second human to die at his hands since the outbreak. He lashed out at another of the raiders, invoking all the fury of the creature whose claws he used as a weapon. The men turned on Navid, but he snarled at them in defiance. One landed a punch that sent intense pain through his already-broken nose. His vision blurred, but he continued to strike out with the claw necklace. He barely noticed Kara struggle to her feet next to him. She kicked one of the men in the groin. The crony fell hard, and she swiftly delivered another kick to his face.

For a moment, it seemed like they might actually succeed. But their rebellion was short lived. The men quickly overpowered them. More blows to Navid’s head, his stomach, his ribs. He crashed to the ground in a bloody mess, wondering if Abby would be proud, then wondering if she would still love him despite the animal he’d become. His mind became muddled, his vision fading, until a booming voice ended the attack.

“Stop! Stop, boys!”

Rick shakily got to his feet. He wiped his nose with his sleeve. The gesture hardly made a difference; his face was covered by blood. He snatched the necklace from Navid’s hand. With a single gesture from Rick, his men backed away from Adam like well-trained hunting dogs. One man was already dead. He had a long gash down his arm from Navid’s attack and a split in his abdomen that revealed the inner workings of his anatomy. A second lay clutching his throat as blood oozed from between his fingers. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to speak.

“Help,” the man gasped, his face awash in pallor. “Help.”

“Mac, can we fix that?” Rick asked a man with a bulging belly and a long, bushy beard. Mac shook his head.

Rick pulled his pistol from his holster and shot the injured man, ending his moaning. A third raider, his leg sliced by Navid’s frantic attack, cowered against the wall.

Rick pointed at him next. Mac lifted his shoulders in a gesture of indifference. “I can probably fix that. But if he’s got nerve damage, he’s not going to walk again.”

“A man who can’t walk right is no use to us.” Rick raised his pistol to the man’s head and fired. With deliberate slowness, he circled Adam’s body. The Hunter’s chest rose and fell in shallow jerks. His face was an unrecognizable mess. One arm was bent at an odd angle, and an ear was hanging off by a thin thread of flesh. “Can’t fix that either, can we, Mac?”

“Wouldn’t want to if we could.”

Another deafening bang.

“No!” Kara yelled. Sadie collapsed beside her sister, her whole body convulsing in sobs. Maggie yelped and backed against the column she was tied to.

“Bastard...you...fucking,” Navid said, spitting blood with every word. One of his eyes was already swollen over. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, his insides churning like whitewater rapids. Not Adam. Not like this.

Rick forced a harsh laugh. “You take one of mine, I take one of yours. Only problem is you took three, the way I count it. Debt’s not repaid yet.” He aimed at Kara.

“No, take me!” Navid yelled. He held his hands out and half-crawled in front of Kara. “Shoot me and let them go!”

“Don’t, Navid!” Kara said.

Rick lowered the gun and leaned in close, speaking low in her ear. “By the time we’re done with you, you’ll wish I had pulled the trigger.” He shoved her down. Sadie crawled to her and draped herself across her sister’s chest.

“Mac, you get first dibs.”

Mac was grinning from ear to ear, rubbing his belly as he approached Navid, Kara, and Sadie. “This could be fun.” Tugging his beard, he bent over and studied each in turn. Kara spit in his face, and he jumped back. “Feisty.”

Navid started to shiver. The remnants of adrenaline were fading, replaced by shock. He couldn’t attack them again. That course of action had already gotten Adam killed and condemned the rest of them to their fate. The heavy weight of despair fell over him. If only Kinsey had never tried to capture the Huntress. If only they’d never sheltered in Mt. Vernon. If only the Hunters had arrived just two hours earlier.

And then an idea sparked in his brain.

“Wait!” Navid yelled. “Wait!”

Rick cocked his head. “Wait for what, boy?”

“Don’t you want to know why we were just sitting here in Mt. Vernon?”

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit.”

“You might want to start,” Navid said, “because if you don’t, if you lay one more hand on any of us, I guarantee you’ll all end up dead.”

Rick bent over Navid and sneered. “And why’s that? You going to haunt me? Or maybe you got a bomb vest under that shirt, brown boy?”

Navid didn’t take the bait. “It’s got nothing to do with me. You want guns. You want ammo. I know where you can get some.”

“Navid, don’t!” Kara said, anger tingeing her voice.

He tried to give her a look that said trust me, but he wasn’t sure how well it worked given the state of his face. “Her father is the leader of a paramilitary outfit. Weapons, food, medicine. They’ve even got a ship. They’re supposed to rendezvous with us here.”

“And I suppose Santa is fucking the Easter Bunny in the parking lot, too, huh?”

“Whatever.” Navid shrugged, trying to appear far more confident than he felt. “Don’t believe me. I assumed you wanted to live.”

“If he ain’t lying, could use more supplies,” Mac said. “Military’s been giving us all kinds of trouble. Might be this fella has what we need to get ‘em off our backs.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Rick stared at Mac until the man backed down. Fiddling with his broken claw necklace, he started circling around Navid again. “If, and this is a big if, I believed you, how in the hell would we contact this bitch’s daddy? I want to work out the terms with them before we make a deal.”

“We have a radio, asshole.”

“Fine,” Rick said. “Let’s call these military men of yours.” He glared at each of them in turn. “But if I find out you’re trying to play me, you’ll be wishing you were him.” He gestured to Adam’s lifeless, bloodied body.

-17-

––––––––

A scream echoed down the passageway leading to the medical bay. Lauren startled and ran to the hatch. It sounded like Samantha, but that couldn’t be right. She’d once seen an unsecured crate land on Samantha’s foot, breaking three toes, and the techie hadn’t so much as whimpered. What could possibly be so bad to make her scream like that?

“Hold it,” Smith said. “Where the hell are you going?”

“Someone’s hurt,” Lauren said.

“You stay here.”

“But they might need my help.”

“If they need your help, they know where to come, don’t they?” He directed Lauren with his submachine gun. “To the lab.”

Lauren began walking slowly, but her mind was racing. Before she’d reached the lab, heavy footsteps sounded along the deck and two soldiers burst through the hatch. Between them, Samantha hung limp. Blood covered her right forearm, obscuring the tattoo of vines and roses. Her face was twisted in a grimace.

“What happened?” Lauren asked. She glanced between the soldiers. “What did you do to her?”

“Didn’t do a goddamn thing,” one of the soldiers said. He let go of Samantha’s shoulder and pushed her forward. Samantha flopped into an empty chair, cradling her injured arm.

“She did it to herself,” the other soldier said.

Lauren used a cloth to clean the blood away and examined the wound. It was a relatively clean, straight cut.

“Soldering accident,” Samantha said, gritting her teeth.

That inspired more questions than it answered. Samantha was a talented technical specialist. Things weren’t adding up. But Lauren ignored her confusion and grabbed a packaged suture set. She dabbed the wound again with sterilizing alcohol and began stitching the wound shut.

“I was working on a project,” Samantha said. “Slipped and cut myself. Clumsy, huh?”

Lauren nodded, murmuring her agreement, but she still didn’t understand what was going on. She finished suturing the wound and placed a bandage over it. With a few strips of surgical tape, she secured the dressing and patted Samantha’s other arm. “All good.”

Samantha finally seemed to relax. She clasped Lauren’s hand. “Thanks, Doc. Really appreciate it.” There was something small and plastic pressed between their palms. Samantha gave Lauren an earnest smile before she let her hand go.

Curling her fingers over whatever Samantha had placed there, Lauren returned the smile. “Of course. Don’t cut yourself again, okay? Not your best idea.”

“Good thing we have you to save us, then, isn’t it?”

The soldiers grabbed Samantha’s upper arms and guided her out of the med bay’s hatch. Lauren quickly shoved her hands in her pockets and stalked back to the lab. What had Samantha given her? Her mind raced through a thousand different possibilities. What could be so important that she would injure herself just for the chance of delivering it? Her hand was wrapped around the handle to open the hatch when one of the guards tugged her shoulder.

“Doctor,” Smith said, his brow furrowed. Lauren’s stomach flipped. She was accustomed to science and medicine, but not subterfuge. Had she already given herself away? “Another patient’s asking for you.”

“Huh?” The spell on her mind was broken. “Who?” She’d already checked the Weavers and Alex, along with Ivan, Scott, and Thomas. They should all be fine. She spun and saw a shirtless Hunter was standing in the hatchway with a military escort. White bandages clung to his shoulders and chest. She knew they covered nasty Drooler-inflicted burns from a previous mission.

Terrence’s face seemed paler than usual, and beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead. Lauren pressed the back of her hand against his temple and frowned. “You’re hot.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Terrence said, forcing a wry grin. “But don’t you have a thing going on with Glenn?”

Lauren shook her head. “Are you in pain? How are your injuries?”

“Just exhausted,” Terrence said, slumping into the exam chair Samantha had just vacated. “Muscles, bones, everything. Like I’ve just run a marathon or two. Except all I’ve been doing is sitting in the brig.”

Lauren used an ear thermometer to take his temperature. The digital readout showed 101.5degrees Fahrenheit. Definitely a fever. Prior to the Oni Agent outbreak, she’d have assumed this was a sign Terrence’s wounds had become infected. But now, these symptoms might be harbingers of a nascent Oni Agent surging through the Hunter’s blood vessels. “Any headaches?”

Terrence’s eyes went wide. He seemed to understand the implication at once. “A little bit.” He rubbed a hand over his shaved scalp. “Right here. Is it...?” His words trailed off.

“Don’t know.” She shifted her gaze to the guards and then back to Terrence, trying to make her assessment of Terrence’s health appear routine and innocuous. The former Ranger hadn’t been scratched by any Skulls as far as she’d been told. He’d suffered burns from the Drooler, but that was it. Could a trace amount of the Oni Agent survive the intensely acidic environment of the Drooler’s spray? Could the burns have provided another route of transmission? She certainly hoped not. Hydrochloric acid was strong enough to destroy most normal viruses and bacteria. But the nanobacteria in the Oni Agent weren’t normal. “I’m going to give you a couple of shots, and you should be all clear.”

“Even if—”

“Yes, even if this turns out to be the worst-case scenario.” She gave Terrence a tight smile.

Lauren moved to a cabinet where she’d stored a few doses of chelation therapies. She didn’t want to outright mention the possibility of an Oni Agent infection; she didn’t trust the paranoid guards not to overreact and do something rash. And the last thing she needed was more attention. She patted her pocket to ensure the object Samantha had given her was safely stowed and then returned to Terrence’s side with a syringe. She inserted the needle into a bulging vessel in his arm and administered the treatment. After placing a small bandage over it, she rummaged through a cabinet and took out a pill container. “Take two of these in about six hours, then another one every twelve hours until the bottle is empty. You should be back to normal in a couple of days.”

“Minus the burns,” he said.

“Minus the burns,” Lauren agreed. The guards reached for him, preparing to escort Terrence back to the brig, but Smith held up his hand.

“Hold up a second.” Smith gestured for the Hunter’s escort to keep him in place and then turned to Lauren. “What exactly did you just treat him for?”

“A possible infection,” Lauren said as matter-of-factly as she could. “I suspect his burns—”

“I don’t buy it,” Smith said. “I’m no doctor, but you take pills for antibiotics. Why do you need to give the man a shot?”

“Well, there are plenty of antibiotics in pill form,” Lauren said. “But I didn’t want to take any chances so I gave him ceftriaxone. It’s usually administered intravenously and has broad-spectrum activity, which means it’ll help knock out whatever bacteria might be floating around in Terrence.”

“Okay,” Smith said. Lauren could see the gears in his head turning and prayed her answers had satisfied him. “This man’s seen some action against those Skulls, right?” Smith gestured to the extensive dressings. “Doesn’t look like he just tripped and hurt himself.”

Lauren said nothing. She waited to see where Smith was going with this.

“And you told me you all had a way to stop this Oni Agent before it took over your body.” Smith paced closer to Lauren and narrowed his eyes. “So if I were a gambling man, I’d be willing to bet you just loaded him up with your secret serum. And if I check that vial where you got the medicine from, it wouldn’t be antibiotics, would it?”

Lauren’s eyes darted from the guards’ weapons to Terrence and finally back to Smith’s too-clever gaze.

“From what I’ve seen, you’re a decent medic, but I don’t want some guy like this stuck in the brig with everyone else. If he Skulled-out on us, that’d be an awful mess to clean up,” Smith said. “Throw the guy in the Isolation Ward.”

The military escort opened the hatch to the ward and shoved Terrence inside. The hatch slammed shut again with a terrible clang. Lauren mouthed an apology to him through the acrylic window. Terrence shrugged and claimed one of the open beds between Ivan and Scott. A hand grabbed Lauren’s shoulder roughly and pulled her back around.

“I told you not to pull any funny business,” Smith said. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...” He let the words hang in the air and gave her a meaningful, serious look.

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“Back to the lab,” Smith said. “And get to work. I’ll be watching.”

Lauren stepped through the hatch to join Divya, Sean, and Peter. Each was toiling over lab benches as they examined specimens on microscope slides or pipetted solutions between vials. She felt the guards’ eyes hot on the back of her neck. They’d be observing her every step now, but the object in her pocket was feeling heavier by the minute.

***

Dom found it difficult to concentrate on stealth knowing his daughters’ lives might be in danger. He crashed through the foliage with the others hot on his heels. They needed to get to Mt. Vernon fast. Any lone Skulls they ran into on their trek along the river went down with a barrage of bullets or swift knife strikes.

Adam’s warning had been both ominous and short. All attempts to hail him again had gone unanswered.

A burst of static came over the comm link. Dom held up a fist, and the Hunters slowed. “Adam, is that you? This is Dom, do you read?”

More static.

“Adam, do you read?”

A voice crackled, weak and winded. “Dad, it’s me.” Kara sounded frightened.

His heart pounded. “What’s wrong?”

“These men. They murdered Adam. They’re going to kill the rest of us.”

Anger and dread flowed through Dom. He’d lost crew members to the Skulls, but to other humans? Dom had worked so hard to deliver his daughters from harm. He’d be damned if some marauding group of assholes harmed a hair on their heads. “Are you and Sadie okay?”

“Hurt, but we’re alive,” Kara said shakily. “We—”

“Listen up,” a new voice said. “This ain’t no time for a chat. You want to see your daughters and that jihadi boy, you gotta pay the tax.”

“Who the fuck is this?” Dom asked, his voice quaking with unrestrained anger. The Hunters shot worried looks between each other.

“Someone who wants to talk. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re real. Guess this A-rab was telling the truth.”

“I’m losing my patience,” Dom said. “What do you want?”

“You have weapons and ammo. We want ’em. You give us what we want, we might let the girls live. Hell, maybe even the boy.”

“You already killed one of my men, asshole. How do I know we can we trust you?”

“You absolutely don’t.” The man laughed. “And that’s the beauty of it. You don’t know me. You don’t know my people. So it’s up to you if you want to take the risk, sure. You wait around too long, these pretty little girls of yours are gonna be dead long before you find their bodies.”

Dom was silent for a moment, scanning the faces of his Hunters. Meredith seemed the most composed, but he knew her calm façade hid a racing mind and a fierce heart. Right now, she’d be working through a dozen different plans to get his daughters and Navid back—and get revenge for Adam’s death. It was that kind of careful analysis and thinking that he admired in her. “Fine. You’ll get everything we’ve got. How do you want to do this?”

The man explained how he wanted to make the trade. He gave Dom little room for bargaining. “Be here in one and a half hours. If you’re late, your daughters die.” Silence for a beat. “Actually, they won’t be dead. But you’ll wish they were.”

The comm link line fizzled into static.

“We’re not seriously going to negotiate with them, are we, Chief?” Miguel asked. “I get that we didn’t kill Kinsey’s men because they were just following orders. But these people...”

“They killed Adam,” Jenna said with a snarl.

“I want to smash some fucking skulls,” Glenn said, “and I’m not talking about the Oni Agent kind.”

“I second that,” Renee said. “I think Kinsey’s men thought they were acting in the right. I’d probably think the same thing if I were them. But these guys sound like monsters.”

Dom battled with the emotional turmoil raging in his head. Intense, fiery rage warred with debilitating, freezing fear. He wholeheartedly agreed with the other Hunters, but he wouldn’t rush into anything without a proper plan.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Dom said. “We’ll give them a chance. Just one chance to walk away from all this. And if that doesn’t work...well, we’ve never negotiated with terrorists, so I see no reason to start now.”

-18-

––––––––

Shepherd leapt out of the rusty fishing boat onto the dock. The Skulls had started to trawl through the trees and the yard behind the house. Several investigated the dog, but to Shepherd’s surprise, they left it alone. A Skull nudged one of the recently turned family members’ bodies, but moved on as soon as it saw the creature was a fellow Skull. They scoured the lawn, slowly making their way to the riverbank.

“I don’t see any fuel cans, and we don’t have time to look,” Shepherd said, gesturing to the boat’s useless motor. The sailboat on the trailer now drew his interest. “They taught you to sail at the Academy, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Rachel said.

“We have one chance at this,” Shepherd said. “You two jump in and prep it for sail. I’ll get it moving and then load up myself. Got it?”

“Might as well try,” Rory said.

As quietly as he could, Shepherd led them down the dock toward the lawn. He directed Rachel and Rory to take the chucks from beneath the wheels. Once he gave the signal, they climbed into the boat. He slipped into the driver’s seat of the SUV and inserted the key into the ignition, taking a long breath. This was it. He twisted the key, and the starter ground unhealthily. A few Skulls twisted, their heads cocked and their eyes gazing over the SUV.

“Come on, you piece of junk.”

He turned the key again. This time the SUV’s engine gurgled and thrummed. Skulls immediately turned and howled at the noise. Adrenaline surged through Shepherd as he slammed the SUV into reverse and pushed on the pedal.

The wheels of the trailer splashed into the water. Then the sailboat started to float, and Shepherd continued until the SUV too hit the waves. The boat came free just as Skull claws clicked across the concrete boat ramp. One of the Skulls scratched at the window, screaming as spittle sprayed across the glass in globs. Shepherd threw the door open with all his strength, knocking the monster backward. The Skull dropped into the water, and Shepherd sprinted to the stern of the boat, then shoved it to nudge the craft out. Waves kicked up around it, and the current turned it southwards. Rory ran to the tiller while Rachel unfurled the sails.

Footsteps sounded behind Shepherd. He spun in time to swing his rifle into a Skull’s face. A quick blast of the gun, and the monster fell. Another leapt at him. Shepherd shot it midair. Even though it was now dead, momentum carried the body toward him. He dodged the dead monster and fired into a few nearby Skulls. Rounds pinged off the armor of some, but enough found their mark to buy him some time. He dove into the river and swam for the sailboat.

His fingers traced the edge of the portside gunwale, but something grabbed his boot. The Skull was fighting the surging water, clinging desperately to Shepherd. His strength flagged as he struggled against both the river and the Skull. He started to lose his hold on the boat, but then a booming gunshot split the air. The Skull’s grip loosened, and Shepherd pulled himself into the craft with Rachel’s help. Rory put his rifle back down and manned the tiller.

“Thanks,” Shepherd said.

Wind caught the mainsail, and it billowed out. Rachel smiled. “Next stop, Kent Island. With wind like this, we’ll make it in no time.”

Skulls followed along the riverbanks for a while, but the sailboat soon outpaced them. It moved almost silently through the moonlit waves with no gurgling, noisy motor to announce their presence. Shepherd felt strangely peaceful as the cool breeze played over the deck. Birds sang as night turned to morning. Eventually, they reached the mouth of the river. Rory abruptly banked the boat, tacking against the wind to climb up the Chesapeake in the direction of Kent Island.

The mast of another sailing craft caught their attention. The other boat was anchored in the middle of the bay, and Shepherd directed Rory to bring them in close. As they drew nearer, Shepherd could see shreds of the sail thrashing in the wind. Bullet holes punctured the cabin, and several of the portholes sported spiderwebs of fractures. Rachel instinctively lifted her rifle, and Shepherd took out a pistol. He couldn’t leave a civilian stranded, but he also couldn’t afford to let down his guard.

“Anyone aboard?” Shepherd called. He waited for the telltale howls or scratching of a Skull. But he was pleasantly surprised when he heard a human voice.

“Yes, yes, I am!” A man came up from the cabin. He had a washcloth haphazardly tied around his biceps. It was soaked with blood. A ragged beard graced his face, and a rotten odor drifted from the cabin’s interior. He carried an ax in his arms. Then he saw the guns and dropped his ax. It clanged on the deck, and he held out his hands, open-palmed, in a gesture of surrender.

“I don’t have anything left.” His eyes shifted left, then right. “Well, a little food, but please, I’m begging you. Let me keep it.” He appeared on the verge of breaking down.

Shepherd lowered his pistol and nodded to Rachel for her to do the same. “We’re not here to take anything. Are you alone?”

“Just me now,” the man said. In his eyes, Shepherd saw a flicker of a forlorn expression, but then the man continued. “I took the boat to escape from some assholes raiding my neighbors. They went door to door. I watched them from my bedroom. Wanted to stay put, but I couldn’t.” He apparently had not noticed that Shepherd hadn’t asked for his story, and he didn’t seem to care. “Wife had already turned. Son was off at college in Colorado. Haven’t heard from him since a phone call right at the beginning. Said the University was quarantining everyone there. Keeping ‘em safe. I doubt it.”

The man seemed half-delirious. “Listen,” Shepherd said. “We’re headed to a safe zone. An island protected by former lawmen and even a few folks from the armed forces.”

“Military? No, no, no.” The man waved them off. He pointed to his sail, then the bullet holes in his boat. “Military did this to me.” He patted his injured arm. “Worried about infection. Told me to sail away. I didn’t think they’d actually shoot. Do I look like one of those things? No. Can’t trust anyone now. No one.”

“Trust me,” Shepherd said. “The people at Kent aren’t crazy. They aren’t going to shoot you.”

“No,” the man said again. “Not going to fall for that. No way. Not today, not tomorrow.” He shook his head wildly. “Go on, leave me be. Just don’t take my food, okay?”

Although he felt a pang of pity, Shepherd didn’t want to waste any more time talking to the man. “Kent Island will be there if you decide otherwise. Just head north from here.”

The man ignored them and ducked back into his cabin. Shepherd gave the signal to sail on. As the hull cut through the glinting whitecaps, he wondered what these marauders were like and how they had thrived in a world filled with Skulls. The thought of what they might be doing to survivors sent shivers through his flesh.

He understood the military’s paranoia. When he’d been in command of Fort Detrick, they’d been forced to defend the base indiscriminately in the early days of the outbreak. It was a harsh, unfortunate reality. But he wasn’t used to being on the wrong side of the military’s might.

Wind filled the sails. Gulls cried overhead, and the distant howls of Skulls carried over open water. The sailboat continued north toward an uncertain future.

***

The morning light hung over the entrance to Mt. Vernon, bathing the idyllic estate in a warm orange glow. Dom trudged across the parking lot to the ticket booth, not giving a damn about the scenery.

He looked warily between the buildings and parked vehicles for signs of the men who had his daughters. He counted a few camped out among the trees and underbrush. Each had a weapon trained on him. Miguel and Renee, walking on either side of him, were highly trained operatives who had certainly spotted the amateur warriors, but they gave no indication that they’d noticed the planned ambush.

Good, Dom thought. Let them underestimate us.

His boots crunched over a gravel pathway. The packs they wore were filled with what remained of the guns and ammunition they’d scrounged on their way here. Each Hunter carried an extra bag containing boxes of rounds. In one of Miguel’s bags, they’d packed the FN40 grenade launcher attachments for their SCAR-Hs along with the grenade cases that went with them. It was a final bargaining chip Dom hoped might impress the savage militia.

“Close enough!” a voice called from the ticket booth. It wasn’t the smooth, smug voice from the radio. A moment later, a man stepped out. He had a bushy beard and rotund belly. “What do you got for us?”

“For you, nothing,” Dom said. “I want to see the man I spoke to before.”

Birds chirped. Wind rustled through the trees. The bearded man stood silently for a second. “Don’t think that’s going to happen,” he said.

“Oh, I think it will,” Dom said. “Need to be sure these weapons get in the right hands, eh?” He gave an exaggerated wink.

A loud, boisterous laugh exploded from the main entrance. From under the shadow of an awning, another man emerged flanked by his apparent cronies. He held his hands out wide as if feigning a welcome. A large necklace was draped over his neck and chest, and with a jolt, Dom realized it was made of claws. The man’s lieutenants had taken things a step farther, fashioning makeshift armor from Skull bones and plates. A menagerie of other men followed in surplus store-style fatigues and camo. Dom counted about a dozen of them, all armed and moving toward him.

“Didn’t think you were gonna show,” the man said. He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “Name’s Rick.”

Dom ignored the pleasantries. “Where are my daughters and Navid?”

“They’re fine.”

“Show them to me,” he said. “Before I give you anything, I want to see them alive and unharmed. Do it or the deal is off.”

“Now, come on,” Rick said. “I don’t have to do shit.”

“Trust me,” Dom said. “It’s in your best interest.”

“Idle threats. My men watched you come down here. We counted your numbers. You can’t surprise us.” Rick tapped the Skull-claw necklace. “I didn’t earn this by being stupid. Boys, tie ‘em up.”

“That wasn’t part of the agreement,” Dom said, bristling. His nerves lit up in anticipation of a fight, and he clenched his hands into fists.

Rick shrugged as the men in Skull armor marched forward. “Too bad for you, huh?”

“Tell them to stay where they are.”

“Or what, you going to tell your mommy?”

Dom gave a subtle shrug, but it was the signal Andris and Jenna would be watching for. Two rifle shots cracked in the distance. The head of the man in the Skull mask exploded in a spray of blood and bone fragments. The one with shoulder plates fell forward, clutching a freshly formed hole in his throat. Blood pooled around him as he writhed on the asphalt.

To his credit, Rick only winced slightly before regaining his composure.

“Looks like you didn’t count correctly,” Dom said, his voice menacing. “Now stand the fuck down. You’re next.”

“Ain’t going to happen,” Rick said, smiling unexpectedly. “I want to have a little talk before you try anything stupid.”

“Don’t you get it?” Dom asked. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists. But I also don’t really want to waste more ammunition than I have to on the likes of your sorry company. I’m giving you one chance to tell your men to leave. Bring my daughters and the young man out here, and I might let you go. Might.”

Rick let out an exasperated sigh. “Snipers in the woods.” He stepped over the body of the now-headless man. “Two can play at that game.” He held a hand in the air and snapped once. A loud bang echoed from the trees.

-19-

––––––––

Meredith spotted the man in the ghillie suit just as he sucked in a breath and started squeezing the trigger. She sprinted at him, leaves crunching under her boots, and kicked up the barrel. The gun fired, and the bullet tore through the canopy of leaves and branches overhead.

“Asshole,” she yelled, planting a boot into his spine, then pressed a suppressed pistol against his forehead. One shot, and his body went limp. Meredith kicked the sniper’s body over and relieved him of his weapons. She stowed them in her pack with the two rifles she’d taken from the cronies that had been trying to guard him. They’d both been staring listlessly into the woods as if they were already two sheets to the wind. It had been far too easy for Spencer and her to bring them down before she ambushed the sniper. She bet they didn’t have a lick of actual military experience in them, judging by their completely ineffectual attempt to watch the back of the sniper she’d taken out.

“Nicely done,” Spencer said, lowering his rifle.

“Thanks,” Meredith said. Never had she imagined her CIA training would come in handy against marauding bands of post-apocalyptic raiders on US soil, but she found herself appreciating the practiced skills in stealth and combat she’d picked up.

Meredith grabbed the sniper’s rifle and lay prone where he had. The man must’ve been an experienced sharpshooter; it was a prime location with sweeping views of the estate and a perfect vantage point over the parking lot. But she wasted little time in appreciating the former sniper’s skills and quickly aimed at a goon wearing body armor made of a Skull’s ribs.

“Thanks for the cover, Mere,” Dom said over the comm link. Then she watched him duck as Rick opened fire. The ringleader took advantage of Dom’s momentary dive for cover and ran past his men toward the gift shop.

Coward, she thought.

Gunfire rang out from somewhere else, and the men below started to scatter. Meredith rocked the trigger back. The rifle kicked against her shoulder, and the man in the ridiculous body armor fell. Two, three, four more of them fell to her well-aimed shots. More rifles barked in the distance where the other Hunters were posted, raining hell down on the retreating raiders.

Their Skull-inspired fashion statements looked far less intimidating as gunfire riddled their ranks and they ran, screaming, for cover. Meredith scanned the parking lot looking for new targets. Dom was unloading his magazine into a couple of stubborn raiders. Renee was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with another. Miguel had used the blade in his prosthetic to catch one by surprise and was now holding the man like a human shield to protect them against the raiders that had tried to take potshots from the nearby woods. Meredith caught one in her scope and fired.

“Nice shot.” Andris’s voice sounded over the comm link. “I got the north side, you take south.”

Their concerted efforts brought down the other marauders with ease. More rifle fire cracked along the estate. Glenn was manning a machine gun near where Andris and Jenna were stationed, and now the throaty machine-gun fire tore up the front of the gift shop and entrance. Soon, the parking lot and surrounding woods were empty of raiders.

“Clear,” Meredith reported.

“Clear,” came Andris and Jenna next.

“We’re going in,” Dom said, charging through the main entrance with Renee and Miguel.

Meredith sprinted through the woods with Spencer. They met up with Andris, Glenn, and Jenna before rushing in after Dom. Dom’s ploy of splitting the group had worked wonders. Half had veered off into the forest long before Mt. Vernon was in sight, while the others stuck to the main road. And with their assortment of night vision and infrared tech, it hadn’t been difficult to spot the raiders lurking in the surrounding forest. But Meredith knew they’d been lucky, too. These men had undoubtedly grown arrogant, and it had cost them their lives.

“Any sign of Kara, Sadie, or Navid?” Meredith asked over the comm link as she ran.

“Negative,” Dom said. “Circle around back. Keep an eye out for Rick. He ran inside as soon as we opened fire. He’s got to be up to something.”

Having lived close to Mt. Vernon prior to the outbreak, Meredith had visited the place on several occasions when family or friends came to visit. Now she felt grateful for that insider knowledge, and she racked her brain to draw on that information now. If Kara, Sadie, and Navid were still being held hostage, it would likely be in some defensible location. Somewhere with plenty of cover. Somewhere with limited entrances.

“The restaurant,” she said, waving the others to follow her. “We’ll clear it and meet Dom halfway through the building.”

Their boots clattered along the sidewalk, and their packs jostled, rattling their equipment. Gunfire from the main entrance continued in spurts. The far-off screech of a Skull grabbed her attention, but there was no time for that now. They reached the rear of the restaurant. Coming in with guns blazing might freak the raiders out, and she didn’t want to cause them to overreact by killing their hostages.

“Glenn, Jenna, Spencer, take the gift shop. Try to lure them in there, or at least distract them.”

“Got it,” Jenna said. The trio rushed down the sidewalk and busted through the gift shop door. The sound of crashing glass was quickly followed by rapid gunfire. Meredith watched muzzle flashes light up the restaurant. Through the dark glass door, she saw shapes move toward where the restaurant connected with the gift shop.

“Any sign of the girls or Navid?” Meredith asked over the comm link.

“That’s a negative!” Jenna yelled back.

“What about Rick?” Meredith asked.

“Another negative!” Glenn replied.

“Ready?” she asked Andris.

“Always.”

She tried the handle, but the door was locked. She backed up and sprayed bullets into it. Cracks etched their way through the glass, and she broke through it with a well-placed kick. She scanned the room, but saw no sign of Navid, Kara, or Sadie. Andris came through next. Their rifles chattered, catching the raiders off guard. Bullets chewed through tables set on their side as barricades. Glass cups and bottles shattered overhead from a bar two men were using for shelter. Screams and yells of rage filled the room.

One tried to crawl out from under the bar. He aimed at Andris. Meredith played her muzzle over him, and shots punched into his legs, then ribs, then neck.

She swiveled on another man taking potshots from near the kitchen. The next time he popped up, she fired a bullet through his forehead. Once he had flopped to the hardwood floor, she dashed to the kitchen.

Another three raiders were bunkered beyond an overturned metal shelving unit. Rounds whizzed past Meredith. She dove for cover behind a sink full of dishes. Ceramic cups and plates exploded in shards as the men fired. She hid, watching their reflections on the massive stainless steel oven. Andris peeked around the entrance to the kitchen and traded a volley with them. With their attention on him, Meredith pivoted out and sent a burst of gunfire in their direction. Two of the men went down. The third trained his gun on her, but he was quickly dropped by Andris.

“Where are they?” Andris said, prowling through the room with his rifle ready. “Kara? Sadie? Navid?”

There were no replies. Dread filled Meredith. Had Rick been playing them the entire time? She rushed to the walk-in cooler. She’d guessed this was where they’d secure their hostages. A perfect spot. Easily secured, only one exit. Gulping, she wrapped her fingers around the handle and yanked it open.

***

Dom fired at a man hiding behind the bulky table where a scale model of Washington’s mansion was displayed. The glass case fell away in an avalanche of broken shards, and bullets tore through the miniature building. The man behind it groaned. Dom sent another salvo through the shredded model, and the groans abruptly ceased. The raider’s body thudded against the marble floor, lifeless, as Dom twisted to aim at the next asshole shooting from a support column.

Dom was forced to duck behind the security counter he’d been using as cover as a shot whizzed past his head. He heard the rattle of the man’s homemade Skull armor as he charged. Miguel caught the man mid-run with a volley that chewed into his side. Apparently the Skulls’ bony armor was less effective when idiots decided to play dress-up in it.

Dom waved Renee and Miguel deeper into the building, where the sounds of gunfire still raged. Spent cases pinged and rolled across the floor. The Hunters churned onward, trading shots and blowing holes through the walls, paintings, and displays full of historical artifacts. Dom felt a seed of regret for the treasures destroyed in the firefight, but that was nothing compared to his feverish desire to ensure Kara, Sadie, and Navid walked out of this estate alive. Rage burned through him as he searched for Rick, wondering what the hell that man had run away so fast for, what he might have planned now.

They continued on until they reached the gift shop. Souvenir magnets, postcards, and T-shirts littered the floor, already torn apart by gunfire. Glenn, Jenna, and Spencer had several men cornered behind the checkout counter. When Dom, Miguel, and Renee joined in, the remaining marauders cowered.

“Drop your weapons,” Dom said in a booming voice.

Two of the men looked ready to surrender, but a third lifted his rifle, the muzzle pointing toward Spencer and his finger sliding toward his trigger.

Dom fired. Seconds later, the raiders were nothing more than a mess of tangled, bleeding bodies.

There could be no mercy. Dom had made that mistake just once, early in his career, when he’d spared a small group of insurgents. The fanatics had turned on them the moment they had the chance, and he’d lost one of his own men.

Dom called out his daughters’ names over and over again. No answers. “Anyone see them or Rick?” he bellowed through the comm link.

“Negative,” came the despairing replies.

“Dom,” Meredith shouted back. “Kitchen. Now.”

His pulse raced, and he dashed through the rest of the gift shop, knocking over any shelves and stands in his way. He leapt over a table, broken in half, that blocked the passage to the restaurant and skidded to a stop at the kitchen’s entrance. Crashing over the shattered dishes and strewn silverware, he ran to the open cooler where Meredith stood.

-20-

––––––––

Dom lifted his rifle and pressed it to his shoulder. Meredith and Andris stood in the walk-in cooler’s door beside him with their rifles aimed inside.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Dom said.

Rick was leaning against the back wall of the cooler. Blood trickled out of a wound under his knee and another in his left hand. His right hand trembled, holding one of the Skull claws still attached to his macabre necklace. The tip was pressed against Kara’s throat as Rick held her close to his chest. “Don’t fucking move.”

Behind him, Navid and Sadie, tape over their mouths, sat in the corner with their hands tied behind their backs. Maggie was hog-tied and draped over Sadie’s legs.

“You kill her and you aren’t making it out alive,” Dom said through gritted teeth. It took every ounce of his self-restraint to remain calm.

“Lower your weapons,” Rick said, his lips shaking. Dried blood was plastered around the side of his face. “I said lower your goddamn weapons!”

Dom complied even though his instincts were screaming at him to end the bastard. Meredith and Andris followed their captain’s lead.

“What do you want, Rick?” Dom said, trying a different tack. One he wasn’t used to. One he didn’t like. But his daughter’s life was at stake. “Just tell me, and you can leave.”

“I want the guns. Just like before.”

“Your men are dead, Rick. Gone. Every single one of them. You need to let my daughter go, or you’re next.”

A crazed glint shone in Rick’s eyes. “Oh, no. Maybe you killed everyone here. I’ll give you that.” He laughed. “But that’s not all of us. Not even close. Where do you think we were going to take those weapons? Where do you think we were taking this food?” His eyes narrowed, and the Skull claw shook slightly. “We’re just a scouting party, really.”

“I don’t give a fuck who you are,” Dom said. “Just let Kara go, and you can leave. Go rejoin the rest of the assholes, for all I care.”

“Weapons. Ammo. Oh, and give me the boat.”

“What boat?”

“The Zodiac your daughters and their friends brought. I want it.”

A crackle came over the comm link. “Heard what he said,” Miguel said. “I’ll check it out.”

Dom didn’t acknowledge the message. Instead he kept his attention on Rick. “Fine, Rick. You win. Tell us how this is going to go down.”

Rick grinned. His single gold tooth gleamed. “Load up the boat. And don’t think you can pull anything. She’ll be with me the whole time, got it?”

Dom nodded slowly.

“Drop all your weapons and toss ‘em in that pack you’ve got.”

Dom hesitated until Rick brought the claw up to the bottom of Kara’s chin. She blanched, but her furrowed brow and steely eyes betrayed the pent-up anger boiling in her. Dom put his rifle into the pack along with Andris and Meredith’s. He started to hand the pack to Rick, but the raider waved him off.

“Come on,” he said. “Your knives, too. Pistols. All of it!”

The clang of the knives and guns falling against each other marked each weapon he was giving up. He felt naked without them. But he knew his team was more than just their weapons. Rick couldn’t truly disarm a Hunter.

Once Rick was satisfied, he took a step. He almost tumbled as he put weight on his injured leg but righted himself by leaning on Kara. “Come on, girl. Let’s go for a nice, romantic boat ride. All of you, back up and walk in front of me. Stay where I can see you.”

Dom shared a meaningful look with Kara. He wanted her to know she would be okay. He wanted her to know he wasn’t letting this man go unpunished.

“Forward!” Rick yelled.

The Hunters marched from the restaurant. Rick commanded the other Hunters they met in the gift shop to follow Dom’s lead. They too loaded their weapons into the packs. Renee and Glenn lugged the extra duffle bags they’d brought full of weaponry.

“Rick,” Dom said, in as calm a voice as he could manage, “we don’t know where the Zodiac is, so you’re going to have to tell us where to go.”

“At the wharf, you fucking moron,” Rick said. “Follow that path.”

The Hunters continued marching, their hands over their heads, along the dirt pathway and through the woods. Dom heard the slight scrape of Rick’s boot as he limped. It wouldn’t be hard to bring the man down. But with his daughter as a hostage, Dom didn’t want to take any risks.

The group moved wordlessly, but Rick grunted with each step. Dom hoped blood loss would finish the job they’d started. Skull howls drifted over the property. These sounded closer than before. Undoubtedly the monsters had heard the gun battle. It wouldn’t be long before creatures swarmed over this place, and the Hunters would need their weapons back.

They eventually exited the wooded path and found themselves at the end of the wharf. Rising and falling with the passing waves, the Zodiac was tied to one of the wharf’s bollards.

“You two with the bags,” Rick said. “Go throw them in the Zodiac and then come straight back.”

Glenn and Renee lugged the bags over the wharf and threw them into the Zodiac. When they returned, Rick made them relieve the other Hunters of their packs and bring each to the boat. They made quick work of loading the craft.

“Line up along the shore where I can see y’all,” Rick said. He eyed Renee. “Sweetheart, you wanna come with me? I got room on this boat for one more.”

Dom could feel the heat of anger rise to his cheeks. “Come on, Rick. Let’s do this fast.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rick said. He started backing down the wharf. Kara’s hands were wrapped tightly around his wrist, her knuckles white and her eyes wide.

Dom glared at the limping raider. His eyes locked on Rick’s and never wavered. “You’re at the boat now. We don’t have any more guns. Let my daughter go.”

Rick let out a long, menacing laugh. “I’m not that stupid, but I reckon you are. I’m taking her with me.”

A red-hot fire tore through Dom. “You’re not taking her anywhere!” He stepped toward the wharf.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Rick said, waving one hand and rubbing the Skull claw against Kara’s throat with the other. She winced. “You take another step, she’s gone. I’ll let her off two klicks down river.” He shrugged. “Maybe she’ll be alive, maybe not. Either way, it’ll be your job to find her.” Rick dragged Kara into the boat with him. It rocked under their weight, and he appeared unsteady.

And then something behind Rick exploded out of the water and wrapped a hand around his claw-bearing arm. It was Miguel. The Hunter had served with the Marines and excelled in his Combatant Divers Course—a fact Dom couldn’t be more grateful for now. Kara took advantage of the surprise attack and ducked from Rick’s grip. With her hands still tied behind her back, she couldn’t do much besides kick him in the groin. Dom heard the impact all the way from the shore. Rick’s hand lashed out in a desperate attempt to reach her, but the rocking boat left them both off balance. Kara’s ankle caught one of the inflated tubes along the gunwale, and she spilled into the water, disappearing under the muddy waves.

Dom sprinted for the river, his focus on the spot where Kara had gone under. But out of his peripheral vision, he saw Miguel twist his prosthetic and impale Rick’s forearm with his hidden blade.

Miguel spoke, leaving the comm link open for all to hear. “Told you we don’t negotiate with terrorists, asshole.”

Dom dove into the water. Bubbles streamed past him as he kicked and pulled himself through the current. He reached into the depths, combing through the silt and mess of tangled underwater plants. Something kicked his shoulder, and he spun around. He surged up from the bottom of the river and gasped for breath at the surface. Bobbing in front of him was Kara. She was treading water, her head barely above the surface. Dom grabbed her with one arm and kicked back to shore before the current could take them too far downriver. He dragged them onto the shore and, as soon as they were both standing, wrapped her in a hug.

“God, I’m so sorry, Kara. So sorry.”

She said something, but it was muffled by the duct tape over her mouth. He peeled it off as Meredith ran over.

“Hi, Kara,” she said, giving the girl one of her rare smiles. “Dom, Skulls are inbound.”

Dom sawed at the bonds on Kara’s wrists. “Spencer, stay here to help watch the Zodiac. Meredith, take everyone else to get Sadie, Navid, and Maggie.”

She gave him a swift salute and then sprinted to the others to relay the command. They retrieved their weapons from the loaded Zodiac before plunging into the woods. Spencer jogged to Dom with an extra rifle.

“Are you okay?” Dom asked, massaging Kara’s hands to get the circulation going again.

“No. No, I am not,” Kara said, shaking him off. Her hands clenched into shaking fists. Water dripped from her auburn hair and streamed over her face. He guessed there was at least a tear or two mixed with the river water. Once again, he wrapped her into a hug. Her skinny arms reached around him as she buried her face into his shoulder.

Over her shoulder, he saw Miguel marching toward them. He was still wearing the underwater rebreather from the Zodiac’s emergency pack around his neck. He prodded Rick away from the boat and shoved him on the bank. His face slammed into the dirt, and he coughed on a mouthful of dirt. Miguel placed a heavy boot over the man’s chest and kept the blade from his prosthetic pointed at Rick. The wounds on the raider’s legs and arms looked bad. He wouldn’t put up much of a fight.

Kara pivoted in Dom’s arms, and her eyes fell on Rick. “You evil, rotten son of a bitch,” she said and then flew at her attacker in a rage, delivering blows with her boots and fists until the man was curled up and spitting blood. Dom wrapped his arms around Kara again, this time to hold her back.

“Wait,” Dom said. “Trust me, I know he deserves it, but before we kill him, I need some answers.”

Kara’s tensed muscles didn’t relax, but she stood still in Dom’s grip.

Spencer gave Dom the extra rifle he’d been holding. “Why are we letting this guy live another minute? I’m with the girl.”

Another bevy of Skull howls sounded, louder now. Miguel looked out into the woods, and then his gaze flicked back over Rick. He ground the heel of his boot on the raider’s chest, making the man writhe in pain.

“I get it, Chief,” Miguel said, his eyes boring into Rick’s. “I want to know where the rest of this asshole’s friends are.”

“Exactly,” Dom said. His main objective was still to get his crew and family safely back to the Huntress. But he knew eventually he’d have to face people like Rick and his gang. Understanding their future foes now would be crucial. “You heard those Skulls. Know what it feels like to be eaten alive?”

Rick glowered, trying to escape from under Miguel’s boot. “I ain’t telling you nothing. You’ll have to kill me.”

Dom aimed his rifle at Rick.

“You let me walk out of here alive, and I’ll tell you.”

“Haven’t you learned your fucking lesson, asshole?” Miguel asked. “We’re in control.”

“Come on, Rick. Make this easy.”

Another sound grabbed Dom’s attention. The unmistakable tremor of a running Goliath shook the ground. A bellow echoed from somewhere west of their position.

“Screw you,” Rick said. “Those monsters don’t scare me.”

“What we going to do with him, Chief?” Miguel asked.

Dom didn’t have to answer.

Kara stepped forward with the ropes that had been used to tie her hands. “I have an idea.”

-21-

––––––––

Meredith charged into the kitchen with Andris and Renee by her side. The others stayed near the exit of the restaurant to guard against any incoming Skulls. The women cut through the bonds around Navid and Sadie’s hands while Andris freed Maggie. The dog barked excitedly, whipping her tail as she dashed between all the people. Meredith figured it was her way of thanking the Hunters for freeing her.

“Is Kara okay?” Navid asked as soon as he peeled the duct tape from his mouth.

“Is my daddy here?” Sadie asked, her eyes filled with tears.

“She’s alive, and Dom will have taken care of Rick by now,” Meredith said. “You all okay to run? We heard Skulls, and we think they’re coming.”

“I’m good,” Navid said. “I can make it.”

“Me too,” Sadie said.

“Then follow me!” Meredith waved them out of the walk-in cooler and guided them through the restaurant, past the bodies of the raiders. The smell of cordite and spilled blood still hung heavy in the air.

Sadie had no problem keeping up the hurried pace, but Navid was falling behind as they started through the gardens. The sunlight highlighted the bruises and dried blood all over his face. The young man had taken a heavy beating, and he was jogging with a limp. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he grimaced with each step.

The roars of the Skulls were growing closer. A throaty bellow tore through the woods to the southwest. Meredith looked over the vacant livestock pens and gardens. Tree branches rustled and shook. Birds exploded into the sky. It took no great leap of imagination for her to guess what was causing the commotion.

And she knew there was no way Navid could outrun what was coming for them. They’d be lucky if any of them could escape a rampaging Goliath.

The behemoth’s massive claws dug into the ground as it galloped toward the Hunters, easily knocking over the smaller trees in its path.

“Jenna, Glenn, take them down to the river!” Meredith yelled, gesturing to Navid, Sadie, and Maggie.

“You got it!” Glenn scooped up Navid as if he weighed no more than a child. The group dashed toward the dirt path with Maggie barking behind them.

“You got a plan?” Andris asked as he aimed his rifle at the oncoming Goliath.

“You got C4?”

He cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “Always.”

She rapidly relayed what she had in mind to Andris. He took off for the carriage house near the mansion and disappeared through the tall front entrance. Meredith sprayed a burst of gunfire at the Goliath. Bullets pinged across the plates bulwarking the monster’s overgrown muscles. Little bits chipped off and fragmented, but the beast continued undeterred. It opened its tusked maw and let loose another growling roar. Each heavy footstep rocked the ground harder as it approached, but she stood still for the time being. Before the Goliath reached her, she turned and hightailed it to the gift shop. She shot a three-round burst at the monster before closing the glass door. Adrenaline fueling her, she hurdled the dead raiders and fallen clothes displays.

A horrendous ripping noise sounded as the Goliath forced himself into the shop. The entire building shook. Dust drifted from the rafters, and glassware toppled from nearby shelves. The beast couldn’t stand at full height, so it dropped to all fours. It pulled itself through the debris toward Meredith. Its spikes snagged more shelves, sending books and snow globes tumbling. Another roar blasted Meredith’s eardrums, but she pushed on. The monster’s progress was slow enough that she judged it was time to try Plan A. She lobbed a chunk of plastic explosive at the creature and then ran from the gift shop before she depressed the detonator.

A low rumble preceded the collapsing roof. Meredith sprinted to Andris’s position near the mansion. The estate was quiet now except for the shriller cries of smaller Skulls somewhere in the woods. No one saw her do a brief, end-zone victory dance. But the shifting rubble of the gift shop made her freeze. Dust plumed around a large shape as it stood from the broken beams and piles of bricks. The Goliath shook itself off and took several unsteady steps. One arm was a mess of charred muscle and busted skeletal plates. Covered in crimson, it hung limp by the monster’s side. Half of its face was devastated, too. The other half scrunched in a vicious snarl. The Goliath loped toward Meredith and closed the distance between them in seconds.

“Dom, you all loaded up yet?” she asked over the comm link.

“Just about,” he said. “I can see Glenn coming down the path now with Navid.”

She knew she couldn’t risk leading this monster straight to the Zodiac. The others needed a chance to get away. It was time for Plan B.

“Andris, you ready?”

“Door’s open. Why don’t you stop by for a visit?”

Meredith barreled down the hill toward the mansion. Her feet pounded like pistons. She felt like her body was turning into a machine as survival mode clicked on. The Goliath roared again, and Meredith could almost feel its hot breath wash over her.

She didn’t waste time looking behind her. She ran straight into the carriage house. A collection of woodworking and farming equipment was displayed there: saws, scythes, plows, and axes. All objects she hoped would serve as powerful shrapnel. She dodged between the tools and then ducked out the back door. The Goliath careened into the building after her, and then the large rolling front door crashed down. The wounded beast bellowed as it searched for its prey.

Without delay, Meredith dove for a nearby creek. Andris was waiting there, lying prone on the sloping bank. As soon as she joined him, he activated the remote detonator. Four simultaneous deposits of C4 exploded, one at each corner of the building. Meredith’s ears rang as heat rushed over her. A broken sawblade whooshed overhead. Splinters of wood rained down on them. She and Andris waited another three seconds and then started running.

She stole a final glance to ensure the Goliath had finally met its end. The walls of the carriage house had been entirely blown out. The roof lay in pieces. Under a pile of twisted metal and wood, the Goliath pushed itself up with its one functional arm. It tried to stand. A scythe was embedded in its chest. An ax head had been wedged under the plates near its neck. The monster let out a weak cry that devolved into a gurgle. Blood bubbled between its tusks, and its remaining eye rolled up. It collapsed, and the ground shook with the impact.

“Meredith, Andris, you okay?” Dom asked. “I’m sending up Glenn and Renee.”

“No need,” Meredith said. “The Goliath is down.”

***

Lauren locked the door to the head behind her. She caught a look at herself in the mirror. Dark bags hung beneath her eyes. Her hair was a rat’s nest. Her skin, usually olive–hued, appeared an unhealthily pale white. She sighed, longing for a cup of coffee. Or two, maybe three days of sleep.

Her thoughts turned to Glenn. She imagined his strong arms around her as they slept in one of their berths. She wished she had some idea of where he was and how he was doing. Then she started to worry about the dangers he might be facing, even now, and she struggled to block the negative thoughts from her mind. Glenn needed her to be strong and capable. Worrying about him did neither of them any good.

Smith rapped his knuckles on the hatch. “You almost done in there?” he shouted.

“Please, just give me a minute,” Lauren called. She went into the cramped stall and sat on the toilet seat. From her pocket, she pulled out the small device Samantha had given her. It was about the size of her thumbnail and had a component that looked like it could be plugged into a USB port. The device was made of clear plastic, and she could see a complicated maze of circuits within it. But there was no note to explain what the hell it did.

“Hurry up, or I’m coming in there,” Smith said.

Lauren flushed the toilet, turned on the sink faucet briefly, and then stomped out. Smith escorted her back to the medical bay. Her team members all shared the same weary expression she’d noted on her own face. Their bodies might be giving out, but their keen minds and determined spirits never wavered.

“Guess what?” Sean asked, a slight smile on his face. “We solved our Drooler problem.”

Lauren cocked her head. She wanted to go to the computer immediately and see what Samantha’s gadget would do, but Sean had piqued her curiosity. “What do you have?”

“It’s pretty ingenious, really,” Peter said.

Sean absolutely beamed at the compliment.

“Especially for a mere epidemiologist,” Divya remarked with a slight grin.

“Hey, now,” Sean said, but he was still smiling. He offered her a silver device.

She took the object, which looked like a spray gun for painting. “What is this?”

“Peter was developing a nanofiber spray to use over anastomotic sites,” Sean said. “I, um, borrowed this.”

“Right,” Lauren said, recalling Peter’s efforts. He’d been trying to reduce the risk of bleeding after suturing blood vessels together. That was a challenge they faced when treating combat injuries. Peter had adapted a standard spray gun to administer a coating of polymers over a wound. It provided a kind of dissolvable bandage that was more efficient at stopping bleeding than anything they could do by hand. “So what’d you do with it?”

“I created a new polymer solution to use with the spray gun. But instead of biodegradable nanofibers, it sprays out microparticles. They stick to fabric and skin. At body temperature, they can be cured together with UV light.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow. “I think I see where you’re going.”

Sean bounced up and down on his heels. “The plastic material forms a thin, gas-permeable sheet around whatever you spray it on.”

“So your skin could theoretically still breathe through it.”

“Yep! But it keeps liquids off. Even Drooler spit.”

“What are these polymer materials made of?” Lauren asked.

“Mostly polyethylene. Very resistant to hydrochloric acid.”

Sean took the spray gun back and aimed it at a foot-long strip of fabric he’d salvaged from the bay’s linen supply. He sprayed it and then tossed the piece of fabric in a cell incubator for thirty seconds to heat the fabric to body temperature. He retrieved the test strip, hung it up, and then played a UV light gun shaped like a hairdryer over the fabric.

“This one’s untreated,” he said, hanging up a second sheet. He donned a pair of lab goggles and a heavy rubber protective coat. “Everyone is going to want to stand back.”

Using a glass pipette, he drizzled Drooler acid over both sheets. The brown liquid merely slid off the first sheet. On the second one, it sizzled and burned, dissolving everything it touched.

“Voila!” He said, turning to Smith. “See this? You’ll be damned glad you let us work in here when you can wear this”—he shook the spray gun full of polymer solution—“in the field to protect your ass.”

“Fantastic work,” Lauren said, patting Sean’s back. “Dom’s going to be extremely pleased with this.”

At the mention of their captain’s name, Sean seemed to deflate a bit. Lauren understood what must be on his mind. Dom would be pleased—but only if he were still alive and somehow made it back to the Huntress. The group’s elation fizzled as they got back to work. Lauren periodically checked on Smith, but he remained in his chair by the lab’s hatch. She fought the urge to constantly touch her pocket to make sure Samantha’s device hadn’t fallen out.

After what seemed like hours, Smith finally stood and stretched. Without a word, he left through the hatch and joined the guards in the medical bay. He struck up a conversation, carelessly turning his back to the lab. She slid the device from her pocket and quickly slipped it into the USB port of a computer. She ensured the monitor was turned so that the screen was hidden from the guards.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked. “I already ran the—”

“Just ignore me,” she said. “Act like nothing’s out of the ordinary. I’ll tell you about it later.”

A progress bar popped up on her screen. After a few seconds, it reported that the appropriate drivers had been installed. Then a text document appeared. Here, at last, was the note she’d hoped to get from Samantha.

––––––––

Most of the software on here will install on its own. But there are a couple things I need you to do. You have to gain remote access through the ship’s comm equipment using your computer. The boys in the workshop are monitoring our intranet use, so I had to whip this up on a laptop without wireless access. Sorry! Follow these instructions, and you’ll be able to route your comp through the servers and past the firewalls Kinsey’s people set up. Then you’ll have direct contact with the comm links the Hunters wear in the field. Of course, you’re going to have some issues talking to them without arousing suspicion, so I also added in a program that converts whatever you type into a voice relay the Hunters will hear, and vice-versa. Whatever they say will be translated as text back to you. The voice recognition software is a bit janky, but better than nothing.

Here’s the deal on our end: We sabotaged the comps controlling the engines before the boarding. Guards got us working on the repairs, and we’re trying to delay as long as possible. Bastards are hella suspicious. Figured you’d have better luck establishing comms with the Hunter. They won’t let me out of their sights for a second. Right now, they think I’m running a BIOS scan on the engine. They don’t have a damn clue. Ha! Anyway, do us proud, Lauren. Samantha out.

––––––––

Lauren scanned the rest of the instructions. Most of it outlined computer commands and functions Lauren didn’t know existed. She imagined the instructions must look crystal clear to Samantha. She guessed it was like a layperson trying to read one of her medical reports. Then Lauren realized she didn’t have to understand the instructions—only follow them. Her fingers started tapping across the keyboard as she copied the first several commands. She couldn’t tell if what she was doing was working.

“Uh, Lauren,” Peter said over his shoulder, before turning back to a biosafety cabinet.

Lauren looked up and saw Smith was headed their direction. She closed out of the console command window and slipped the USB device into her pocket. Her palms were clammy. She tried to keep her breathing normal as she pretended to work on a report.

If she pulled this off, she’d reestablish communications with the rest of the Hunters. And then after that, they’d figure out how to retake the ship.

-22-

––––––––

Dom’s rifle kicked against his shoulder. A Skull went down hard in front of the wharf. Meredith and Andris sprinted toward the Zodiac, their faces wrought in determination. More rounds flew as the Hunters sprayed into the roiling Skulls amassing along the riverbank. Corpses slipped into the water but were rapidly replaced by more Skulls lured by the sounds of battle.

Meredith and Andris threw themselves into the Zodiac.

“Glad to see you two,” Dom said as the duo landed and tumbled amid the packs. He helped Meredith sit straight, and Miguel throttled the motor. The craft sped away as another Goliath barreled through the trees. It crushed other Skulls underfoot. The boards cracked under its heavy weight as it burst through the pavilion at the end of the wharf. After coiling its muscles, the giant jumped for the boat.

The Zodiac’s motor growled. Waves slapped against the bow. The Goliath soared with its arms and scythe-like claws outstretched.

It plunged into the water just behind the Zodiac. A wave crashed over the stern of the craft and soaked the Hunters. The river swallowed the Goliath. One massive fist reached up out of the current. But its claws soon disappeared into the murky water.

As they left Mount Vernon behind, Rick’s screams followed them. Tied next to the wharf, he stood no chance against the onslaught of Skulls. The monsters tore into him with claws as sharp and crooked as those he’d once used as garish jewelry. His reign of terror was over, but Dom wondered how many others were out there like them, taking advantage of other humans, helping the Oni Agent destroy humanity.

Kara watched, unblinking, as he disappeared under the writhing monsters. It took Dom a moment to realize why the look on her face, hard and haunted, was so familiar. He’d seen it in the mirror and in the faces of his Hunters after an op gone bad.

“What now, Chief?” Miguel asked.

Dom paused for a beat. Truthfully, he didn’t have a plan. Just a goal: take back the Huntress. As it stood, they were completely unprepared to regain control of the ship. “Let’s find somewhere to rest. Figure out our next course of action.”

“You got it.” The wind whipped over the Hunter’s face, tousling his dark hair, as he steered the Zodiac.

Around another bend, Dom spotted a house overlooking the water. The house had expansive glass windows and a small pier that would be perfect for docking the Zodiac. But the sight of those enormous windows dissuaded Dom. If they were going to hide somewhere, he wanted actual shelter. He didn’t want to be on display to the Skulls—or any wandering humans—like a fish in an aquarium.

“Keep moving,” Dom said.

Next, they saw a line of smaller houses along the bank. Dom figured it would be too risky to camp out in an area that had been heavily populated before the outbreak. Too many people to turn into Skulls. They rounded another bend. There, a lone house rose above the river. Its windows were large, but heavy curtains obscured whatever lay inside. Dom estimated it to have at least four bedrooms. There was a gravel path leading to an empty dock. No vehicles were parked in the long driveway.

“There,” Dom said.

Miguel directed the boat toward the dock. Renee hopped out once they reached it and secured the mooring lines on the pilings.

“Before we unload our gear, I want the house cleared. I’ll stay here with Spencer, the girls, and Navid. The rest of you, make a sweep.”

The Hunters loaded their weapons and grabbed a few extra magazines. They were well-trained and moved fluidly, but Dom could tell by the looks on their faces and their uncharacteristic silence on the journey here that they were exhausted. He prayed the house was clear. They needed to recover from the battles with the Skulls and marauders. Sleep and food would do them a world of good. He waited with an arm wrapped around each of his daughters and his SCAR-H at his feet. Maggie was licking Navid’s face. He seemed not to mind as the dog tended to his wounds.

After almost ten minutes, a voice crackled over the comm link. “We’re clear,” Meredith said.

The Hunters returned to the boat, grabbed their packs, and marched back into the house. The group dropped their bags near the door and began exploring their temporary shelter. They had entered a large living area with a long couch. Other loveseats and armchairs were scattered next to a wall filled with shelves of books. Miguel walked over to the stove. “Gas,” he said. He flicked it on. The pilot light was out so it didn’t ignite, but the hiss of gas was evident. He rummaged through drawers and drew out a set of matches, lit one, and then held it near the burner. A small circle of blue fire formed around it. “Anybody up for some chow?”

There was a chorus of cheers, and Miguel started scrounging through the cabinets for any canned food. The place had not been ransacked, and he discovered several cans of soup, beans, and vegetables. He combined them into a stew that wouldn’t even make it into a Michelin-rated restaurant’s dumpster, but it didn’t matter. The food was hot and nourishing. They demolished the meal with only a few slurps to break the silence.

“Everyone get some sleep,” Dom said. “Plenty of bedrooms upstairs, so take your pick. I’ll do first shift on guard duty.”

The group seemed reluctant to head up the stairs.

“I think I’m going to grab a mattress and bring it down here,” Renee said after a moment.

“Safer if we stick together,” Spencer said.

Soon enough the living room floor was covered in cushions and mattresses. Sadie snuggled with Maggie, and the Hunters took up the rest of the makeshift beds. It wasn’t long before snores filled the room like sawblades.

Kara joined her dad as he sat on the porch. “Can’t sleep,” she said in answer to his raised brow.

“You want to talk?” he asked.

She was silent for a moment. “No, not really.”

He put one arm over her shoulder and brought her close. There were so many things he wanted to say. Mostly, he wanted to apologize. He’d dragged his daughters into this mess when he took them aboard the Huntress. He’d thought he could protect them. He cursed his own arrogance. Kara, Sadie, and Maggie should be at Kent with the other survivors where they could enjoy fresh air and the company of other kids. It was probably the most normal life possible during the end-times. The little towns on the island were still intact, and the people there had been nothing but fiercely generous and determined to hold out against the Skulls. He pictured the rescued midshipmen he’d left there, Rachel and Rory. They, too, had selflessly defended civilians at the Naval Academy and now lent their services to protecting Kent.

What was he thinking of, bringing the girls aboard a ship made for war? Did he think they’d really be safer on the open seas? The world’s oceans were nothing more than a wet desert. Water you couldn’t drink. No oasis in sight for hundreds of miles. And endless enemies, both domestic and international, to be fought.

The soft, rhythmic breathing of sleep drifted from Kara now. Her eyes were closed, her face softened and younger looking. She’d already been an independent young woman when she’d started college, but the events of the past weeks had shifted her transition to adulthood into overdrive. He saw traits of himself in her, for better or worse. The wrought-iron willpower and unwavering loyalty to friends and family. The overwhelming desire to help those who could not help themselves, even at the risk of her own life. Dom had always thought it was noble to sacrifice himself for his own crew, but when Kara did it, he felt angry and panicked.

Thankfully Kara was like her mother, too. Compassionate and curious. A deeply creative, intellectual side that boded well for her survival in a world where the laws of nature and man had bent toward the unexpected and unpredictable.

Watching her small frame curled against his barrel of a chest, he knew he’d never quite see her as an independent woman the way he did Meredith or Jenna or Renee. He’d never say it aloud, but she and Sadie would be his little girls until the day he died. And he’d be damned if that day came before he ended the Oni Agent plague.

There was no clear path forward. No map leading to the cure or whoever had truly caused this mess. Those tasks loomed before Dom like a brick wall the size of Everest. Most sane men would probably give up. But Dom reminded himself to focus on the next step. Find a handhold in that seemingly insurmountable wall and grab on. Then find the next one. He jumped when a hand tapped him on the shoulder. Kara opened her eyes and jolted upright.

“Sorry to disturb you, Captain,” Renee said. “Thought I’d relieve you of guard duty.”

As Kara settled back in to sleep, Dom shook his head. “No worries. I can stay on watch an hour or so longer. I need time to think.”

***

Shepherd felt the heat of a sunburn on his face. He tried to shade himself with a hat, but the sun glinted off the waves and toasted his skin even after he wrapped an extra shirt over his face like a shemagh scarf. Practicality and survival had become more important than decorum.

The waves grew choppy as the wind beat against their small sailboat. Dark rings had formed under Rachel and Rory’s eyes. Rachel’s fingers would tremble if she held still too long, and Shepherd could practically see the weight dragging Rory’s eyelids down. He had asked the midshipmen if they wanted to rest, but they’d given him a vehement no. They wouldn’t sleep until they reached Kent. Each time they passed a new civilian ship on the water, they tried to spread the word about Kent Island. More people than he’d expected had taken to the sea to escape the Skulls on land. Many of them promised they would check it out if they felt they couldn’t survive the open water any longer. Some waved them off with trite dismissals and others with loaded firearms. And on several boats, there was no sign of life at all.

An unspoken excitement seemed to buoy their moods as they neared Kent. Soon they’d be safe on dry land again. Shepherd could use Rachel’s radio to contact Captain Holland’s ship and warn them of Kinsey’s suspicions. He’d also contact someone at Fort Detrick to see how they’d fared. From there, he could figure out his next steps.

Something glinted on the horizon. Several somethings.

Shepherd pulled a pair of binoculars from one of the bags and held them to his eyes.

“Ships,” he said, adjusting the focus.

“Coast Guard, it looks like. What are they doing?”

“Headed to Kent?” Rory offered hopefully.

“Not sure, but I think they’re anchored. I see a few Coast Guard ships surrounding a single gray one. Weird hull on that one, not a ship I’ve seen before.”

“What?” Rachel said. “Can I see?”

Shepherd handed her the binos. She scanned the horizon and then froze. “I think that’s...Rory, check this out. I want you to look before I say anything.”

She passed the binos to the other midshipman. “That’s the Huntress!” Rory said.

“I thought so.” Rachel brushed her hair back from her face. “There’s no mistaking that Visby-class corvette anywhere.”

“Yeah, you can say that again,” Rory said. “Why do you think Dom’s mustered the Coast Guard?”

“I’m not sure Dom mustered anybody.” Shepherd took the binos back and scanned the Huntress as they approached. Several men and women moved above decks on the Huntress with guns at the ready as if they expected a fight. “If I were to guess, they’ve got the Huntress in their custody.”

Rachel buried her face in her hands and let out a long sigh. “We’re too late. We didn’t even get a chance to warn Captain Holland. Kinsey got to him first.”

“What do we do now?” Rory said.

Shepherd shook his head. “We still go to Kent. We have no idea what’s going on, and we won’t know anything until we actually do our due diligence.”

“We should avoid the Coast Guard,” Rachel said. “I mean, what if they’re looking for us?”

“Agreed. Rory, take us closer to the western shore. I want to give them as wide a berth as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Rory said, manning the tiller again.

“Rachel, tell me about that radio Captain Holland gave you.”

“One line goes directly to their electronics workshop. Another reaches their medical bay. And the emergency line goes to the Hunters’ open channel comm links.”

“Okay, good,” Shepherd said. He settled into a seat near Rory, and Rachel joined them. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We get back to Kent. Those men who took you before might be looking for you again. So we sneak into your quarters, grab the radio, and lay low. If—and this is a big if—the ship’s being controlled by Kinsey’s people, calling the electronics workshop isn’t our best move. Probably not great to call the medical bay either.”

“But the open channel comm links...” Rachel said, catching on.

“Exactly. We’re throwing a Hail Mary, but if the Hunters are able, they’ll respond.”

“Seems like it’s worth trying,” Rachel said.

“Worst case scenario, we get no response,” Shepherd said. “But we need to make it our mission to contact a Hunter, any Hunter, because if we don’t...well, we’re running out of allies.”

-23-

––––––––

When Kara woke, the Hunters were already crowded around the dining room table, speaking in hushed voices. At some point during her nap, Dom must have carried her inside, because she was now snuggled next to Sadie and Maggie. Navid lay on a nearby sofa. She felt as if she had been relegated to the children’s table at their family’s Thanksgiving dinner. She wanted to be part of the plan. She could wield a gun, she knew her way around the Skulls, and she wasn’t injured like Spencer.

Huffing, she stood and marched to the table. Meredith gave her a nod of acknowledgment. Her father used his smartwatch to project a map of the Potomac on the dining room wall and pointed out various locations along the winding river. “We might find another craft here or at least refuel,” Dom said. “The Zodiac isn’t going to make it all the way to the Huntress, assuming it’s even still anchored in the Chesapeake.”

The other Hunters offered suggestions regarding the safest marinas along their course. Kara realized there wasn’t much she could offer, but she listened anyway.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Kara said abruptly. “But can we do something about Adam? I know we don’t have a body, but we should pay our respects somehow.”

Renee bobbed her head. “She’s right, Captain.”

Dom’s lips thinned, but he nodded his agreement. “Let’s take thirty. We can at least organize a small ceremony.”

“Can I...can I take the lead on this?” Kara asked. “I didn’t know him as well as you all, but he saved me and my sister more times than I can count. I owe him something, you know?”

“Go ahead,” Dom said.

The other Hunters stood and stretched, leaving the dining room. Kara roused Sadie and Navid. Maggie woke up too as they stirred. She told them her plan, and they followed Kara outside.

They trudged to the riverbank. She chose stones that had been polished by the tossing currents, and Navid helped her carry load after load up the pathway to the steep yard overlooking the river. There, she and Navid arranged the stones.

Kara took a step back from their work. Maggie barked approvingly. “I think we’re ready for the others.”

She called the Hunters outside, and they formed a semicircle along the steep lawn. Renee closed her eyes and turned away for a moment, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand when she saw what they’d done.

They had arranged a large ring of stones around a smaller central circle. A second small circle intersected the outer ring.

“It’s the hydrogen atom,” Kara said. “The nucleus”—she pointed to the inner circle—”and the single electron orbiting it.” She indicated the outer perimeter and the small orbiting circle.

“Not just any old hydrogen atom either,” Miguel said. “It’s the one Doctor Manhattan has on his forehead, right?”

Kara nodded, recalling the action figures on Adam’s desk. He’d had the whole set of characters from Watchmen, but the blue-skinned Doctor Manhattan had been his favorite. “Adam didn’t hesitate to put himself in danger to save others. He’s gone now, but he’ll live on in the memories of those he fought so hard to save,” Kara said. “He died for me, for Sadie, and for Navid. I’m not sure any words I say can adequately express my gratitude. Adam deserved better, but I’ll never forget what he did for us.

“Maybe it’s corny, but I think Adam would appreciate it,” Kara continued, gesturing to the hydrogen atom. “I wish there was more I could do or say, but no matter how long I stand here babbling, I’d never be able to thank Adam enough.”

“Nor will I,” her father said, stepping forward and putting his hand on Kara’s shoulder. “Maybe I’ll actually read Watchmen now and see what the fuss was about.”

Navid and the Hunters shared memories and stories of Adam, of how he’d kept their comm equipment in tip-top shape and continually saved their asses, whether it was in the field or from his desk in the Huntress. Tears welled up in Kara’s eyes as his comrades and friends spoke about his loyalty, genius, and wicked sense of humor.  

Reluctantly, the Hunters returned to the house to continue planning their mission. As they walked into the dining room, their comm links crackled to life. Kara couldn’t make out exactly what the voice was saying, but she understood their expressions of surprise and confusion.

If all the Hunters were here and communication was cut off with the ship, then who was hailing them on the radio?

***

Lauren typed out a message on the computer program she’d stitched together with Samantha’s instructions. “Hunters, this is Lauren, do you read?”

As furtively as she could, she glanced across the lab to ensure Smith was still lingering in the main medical bay. Her gaze returned to the screen as the message she’d typed appeared on a console window. The text under it claimed the message had been translated to voice and then sent.

Yes, yes, yes! She almost yelled aloud in victory as a return transmission came in, translated into text by the program: Lauren, we read. Can you confirm your identity?

The robotic voice must be making them suspicious. She typed out an explanation as quickly as she could. Then she added a fact she knew one of the Hunters could confirm. Tell Glenn I want my molecular biology book back.

Glenn had tried reading the textbook when he’d been injured and unable to join in on a mission. Sure enough, a message came back immediately: This is Glenn. I’m keeping it.

Lauren smiled but wished she’d been able to hear Glenn’s voice—or, even better, see his face.

A moment later, another message scrolled across the screen. Dom here. Glad to hear from you. Can you give us a sitrep?

Lauren summarized everything the best she could, including Thomas’s injuries and the health of the other survivors in her care. Dom, in turn, provided a short account of everything they’d endured. She felt a pit form in her stomach at the news of Adam’s death and didn’t look forward to relaying the information to the others on board the Huntress, especially Samantha and Chao.

Before she typed an answer, she paused and looked at Peter. “Can you come take a look at this?”

He glanced at Smith, then joined her. His eyes went wide for a second as Lauren showed him the communication program.

Spencer has Drooler burns, Dom’s message said next. Anything we can do to help beside painkillers and antibiotics?

More bad news, Lauren thought. She quickly replied that they should treat Spencer with the chelation therapy, relaying her suspicion that Drooler acid might contain enough Oni Agent to infect someone.

Peter nodded his assent when Smith gave them a suspicious glance. “Looks about right to me,” he said, before walking away.

Copy that, the next message displayed. Any idea how long Samantha and Chao can keep the computers offline?

No, Lauren typed. I don’t know how much longer we’ll be here—or where Kinsey wants the ship taken.

Before Dom could ask another question, she saw Smith coming back into the lab with a few other soldiers. She abruptly said goodbye and shut off the communication module. As casually as possible, she scanned over a scientific journal article she had pulled up on her screen in another window. She couldn’t even read the words as anxiety pumped electricity through her nerves.

“Doctor Winters, we’re going to need you to come with us.”

-24-

––––––––

“It’s crunch time,” Dom said, his palms flat on the kitchen table. The Hunters looked at him attentively. They’d switched from grief to work in a matter of seconds. It was a necessity for their vocation, but he couldn’t help wondering what that did to their psyches. In any case, there was time to worry about it later. “We know where the Huntress is for now. But we don’t know when she’ll be departing or where she’ll be headed to. It’s best we act before we’re working in the dark again.”

“Hear, hear, Chief,” Miguel said.

“Since we now have contact with Lauren, my mind’s made up.” He projected the map of the Potomac on the table again. “With time as our limiting factor, we can’t keep searching different locations, hoping we run into what we want. We have to hit targets where we can be almost one hundred percent certain we’ll find what’s on this list.” He tapped his smartwatch, and a text document appeared on each of the Hunter’s own watches. “I hate to do this, but we don’t have much of a choice. We’re looking at infiltrating two locations, so it’s time to split up again. But at least this time we won’t be far from each other. At the first sign of trouble, you call the other group and let them know. Got it, Hunters?”

The Hunters nodded, but Miguel looked skeptical. “We know how to handle ourselves,” he said.

“I mean it. If things look like they’re taking a turn for the worse, hightail it out of there. That means the name of the game is covert ops. We don’t go in or out with guns blazing unless we have no other choice.”

Dom quickly assigned their groups. Alpha would consist of himself, Miguel, Jenna, and Glenn. Renee would lead the others in Bravo Team. Then he turned to Spencer and asked, “You up for some action?”

“You know it,” Spencer said. The medicine they’d given him had helped, but the man would have some nasty scars. Despite this, he grinned at the thought of getting back into the field.

Dom turned to Kara, Sadie, and Navid next. “I’m sending you—and Maggie—with Bravo. Now, I don’t want you three getting any big ideas. Meredith will make sure you aren’t in the midst of any all-out gun battles, but Bravo might need your help in other ways.”

Kara nodded stoically. “But I want a gun,” she said. Dom hesitated before unholstering one of his sidearms and handing it to her, grip first.

“Bravo, you’ll be taking the Naval Support Facility at Indian Head,” Dom continued. “Before the outbreak, a great deal of weapons research projects took place there. The satellite images I can access over the smartwatch lead me to believe it’s pretty well vacated right now. The research and production facilities there should have everything on List B. Plus, Indian Head is fairly remote. Should be a safer ride in and out than where Alpha is headed.”

Dom turned to Miguel, Jenna, and Glenn. “We’ll pick up the ordnances and tools on List A. Quantico should have everything we’re looking for and more. Like Indian Head, it doesn’t look like the military is hanging around there.” He pointed to Marine Corps Base Quantico on the map. “But if we’ve learned anything, populated areas will be infested with Skulls. I’m especially concerned because I would’ve thought the military wanted to hold onto Quantico. If they’ve abandoned the base, it doesn’t bode well for our chances. That’s why it’s just the four of us. We’re going to do this quickly and quietly.

“Here’s the catch. We’ve only got one boat, and I want Bravo to have access to it at all times. There’s no marina at Indian Head, so they need an easy escape, and the Zodiac’s it.”

“So we’re swimming across the river to Quantico, Chief?” Miguel asked.

“Exactly right. Swimming with the emergency rebreathers will be our best form of cover so we’re not spotted by Skulls or whoever else might be at Quantico. On our way out, we can take a boat from the marina if we have to.”

“What if the military still has control?” Jenna asked.

“If we can’t infiltrate the base,” Dom said, “then we move on. We’ll try somewhere else. Any more questions?”

The Hunters remained silent, so Dom ordered them to load up and move out. The group lugged their packs and bags down to the Zodiac. It took only a couple of minutes to ensure everything was stowed and everyone had found a place in the cramped boat. Dom took a final look at the memorial Kara had constructed for Adam. He said a quiet prayer for the comm specialist before turning to Renee.

“Put her to sea,” he said.

She undid the mooring lines, gave the Zodiac a shove, and hopped in. Miguel started the engine. It gurgled to life, and then they were powering down the Potomac. The crew was ready to get their ship back.

Their trip was aided by the current, and they soon reached Bravo’s target. Low-lying brick buildings appeared beyond the trees off their port side. Dom checked the map on his smartwatch to confirm they were at Indian Head. He watched the buildings and eerily quiet streets, waiting for any signs of life, but saw none. He could only hope that this would indeed be the safer of the two targets.

“That’s your target, Bravo.” The Hunters readied their weapons and strapped their tac vests on tight.

But they didn’t stop yet. Instead, they traveled farther south down the mile-wide river until they were closer to Quantico. “Alpha, prepare to disembark.” Dom kissed each of his girls’ foreheads. “Be safe. Love you.”

“You, too,” Sadie and Kara replied.

“I’ll take care of them,” Meredith said.

“Thanks.” Dom squeezed Meredith’s hand and then let her go.

Miguel passed out the emergency rebreathers to the remaining Hunters. Before fitting his, Dom instructed his team not to surface until they reached the marina. They packed their extra magazines into water-resistant bags within their tac vests, slung their rifles over their backs, and then dove into the water. He waved at the Zodiac. He felt his daughters’ and Meredith’s eyes on him as Bravo churned up river back to Indian Head.

Dom, his rebreather synched up with his smartwatch, dove into the water and began the thirty-minute swim. The power source and oxygen filtration system started to drain as they swam. He continually glanced at the map on the watch’s screen, checking his levels and the location of his Hunters. They all stuck close, swimming perpendicular to the current. It pushed them farther down the river as they crossed it. Eventually, they were far enough across the river that they let the current take them the rest of the way to Quantico.

When the smartwatch reported they were near their destination, he gestured to the others. They grabbed the tangles of roots protruding from the river bank and pulled themselves along, bubbles streaming from their mouths in the murky water. He pointed up toward the surface and made the universal diver’s signal with his thumb and index finger, signifying “okay?” Each responded with the same hand gesture.

They slowly surfaced from the muddy waters. Dom’s head bobbed up first, in the shadow of a wooden dock, and he breathed his first breath of air without the aid of the rebreather. The others popped up beside him. They treaded water under the dock. Dom listened for the signs of Skull activity, but he heard no rattle of bones or scratch of claw against wood, only the waves slapping against the hulls of the boats moored overhead.

Dom had no idea what to expect at Quantico—but at least there were plenty of boats if they needed to make a fast retreat.

***

Meredith prowled alongside Renee at Indian Head. They paused, and she leaned around the corner of a brick building to scan the street. There were several cars and trucks, but they seemed to have been parked rather than abandoned. She saw no walls pocked with bullet holes. No corpses rotted in the open air, and no craters marred the asphalt. A disposable coffee cup, propelled by the cool breeze, rolled along the sidewalk. Maybe the people here had actually been evacuated in time. Maybe they’d somehow been spared the atrocities of the Oni Agent outbreak.

Regardless, she didn’t plan to let her guard down. “Clear,” she said.

Renee scuttled across the street, playing her rifle up and down the road. Spencer followed next, and then Meredith escorted the girls and Maggie. Navid and Andris came last.

“Target A is straight ahead,” Renee said. “Should have the plastic explosives and the knockout gas.”

Meredith confirmed Renee’s intel with a quick look at her smartwatch’s map. “Looks right to me.”

They traversed the street, sticking to the shadows and the cover of the parked vehicles. Most of the buildings had identical drab brick façades and square windows. There was nothing particularly appealing about the buildings’ exteriors, but inside their walls some of the most significant advancements in munitions science had taken place. Meredith suspected there would be far more than a simple deadbolt guarding the secrets of this research facility. No amount of bashing the door handle was going to get them through.

“Meredith,” Renee said. “Come with me. Everyone else, stay put.”

Renee and Meredith flitted around the building, checking each potential entrance. Even the windows were barred and locked. There would be no easy way in. “Got any bright ideas?” Renee asked Meredith as they walked back to the group.

Meredith chuckled to herself. “Nope, but I bet Andris does.”

When Renee explained what they’d found, Andris grinned. “Ah, so it is time for some fireworks again!” He scrounged through his pack. “We do not have much C4 left, and I fear these doors would be resistant to explosives anyway. It is only logical, yes?”

“Makes sense,” Meredith said. “Please, tell me you’ve got something else.”

“Of course.” Andris pulled a vial of silvery powder out from a pocket in his tac vest. “Thermite. This should do the trick. Although I think our success is most guaranteed on one of the windows. Easier to cut through bars and glass than reinforced steel doors.”

“You’re the expert,” Renee said, waving Andris on.

“This is going to be a little noisy,” he warned.

“Go ahead. Meredith, Spencer, and I will form a perimeter. Kara, Sadie, Navid, I want you there.” Renee pointed to an alcove near the main entrance where a couple of tables and chairs were arranged. Meredith joined Renee and Spencer as they took lookout positions in front of the building.

“Okay, here we go.” Andris slung his rifle over his back. He poured thermite in thin lines over the bars protecting a window and set up a small blasting cap. After taking cover, he triggered the detonator. The cap exploded, and a shower of white sparks hissed as the thermite burned through the metal bars. Glass rained down onto the sidewalk, clinking and pinging. The bars came loose and fell. Their impact with the sidewalk let out a ringing thud that echoed down the street. Andris returned to the window, peered through it, and cleared the rest of the broken glass.

He made a formal bow and said, “We’re in.”

The group quickly followed Andris back to the now-open window—and not a moment too soon. Claws scratched against asphalt somewhere down the road. The rattling of bony plates bounced off the maze of brick walls. The empty streets would soon be filled with Skulls, scuttling out of their lairs like roaches to investigate the source of the explosion.

Maybe this place hadn’t been spared after all.

“Move!” Renee hissed.

She helped boost Kara, Sadie, Navid, and then Maggie into the building. Meredith and the others followed, and Spencer reached back from the window to assist Renee just as the first Skulls appeared along the street. Several wore battered, threadbare fatigues. Others were dressed in civilian clothing. A few wore only the armor plating, horns, claws, and spikes characteristic of the skeletal monsters. One Skull with horns protruding out from under a construction helmet howled when it caught sight of Renee’s legs disappearing through the window. It charged.

The group barreled through the office they’d found themselves in. Meredith led the way and opened a door into a hall. She skidded to a stop when her boots hit the tiled floor.

A hunched Skull was standing in the middle of the floor.

Its bloodshot eyes caught hers. Dried blood caked its lips and had painted its claws a dark brown. Its yellowish plates clunked together as it bent forward, squinting at Meredith and the others. Then, baring its serrated teeth, it let out a shrill howl.

-25-

––––––––

Dom pulled himself up onto the end of the dock and crept between a pair of motorboats. Miguel came up next. Water sluiced over his soaked fatigues. Jenna slipped up and crawled into position near Dom. Finally, Glenn joined the group. They checked over their rifles and grabbed fresh, dry magazines from their tac vests.

Gulls and buzzards circled overhead, drawn to the smell of death drifting in the breeze over Quantico, searching for scraps of food. But if experience had taught him anything, it was that Skulls never left behind even a morsel of meat on their kills.

The slow, rhythmic scrape of claws over wood and cement drifted over the marina. A Skull in an orange life vest was limping beside the boathouse, its right ankle bent far beyond the normal constraints of human anatomy. One arm ended at its elbow. Crooked, spiked bones jutted from the stump. Another Skull was stalking a neighboring dock wearing the soiled remains of a Marine’s dress blues. The monster had the build of a linebacker. Its bulky armor even looked a little like football gear. Other Skulls were pacing around the marina in lazy circles, as if they hadn’t had a chance to feed in ages.

The actual town of Quantico lay just beyond the marina. Dom could make out the green and red awnings over the storefronts, but many of the shop windows were broken. A restaurant facing the water had been hit hard by some kind of explosion, and its sign hung askew and half-burned.

Getting into the base wouldn’t be easy. But given the state of the ghost town before them, Dom wondered if there would be anything left to find.

“Remember. Quiet as possible.” Dom tapped his smartwatch. “We’re headed here first. Center of the town.”

The Skull in the life jacket started walking down the main dock in their direction.

“Radio silence,” he whispered. He gestured for the others to crouch and stay hidden. Every nerve in his body tingled with anticipation. Gently, he placed his rifle at his feet. His knife gleamed in the sunlight as he pulled it out from his thigh sheath. He coiled his muscles, preparing to spring. Soon, the Skull would be at the intersection on the dock in front of him. He flexed his fingers.

The scraping and scratching stopped. Dom waited, looking at the spot where he had expected the Skull to appear. But it didn’t appear. He counted the seconds. Surely the Skull had moved by now. Dom crawled closer. He could see the edge of the creature’s shadow on a boat opposite him. The sharp lines and jagged edges of its spikes and horns were clearly visible, but he didn’t know which direction it was facing. No matter.

Dom stepped from around the boat. The Skull was gazing at the sky. Saliva was dripping from its mouth. He didn’t bother to figure out what the monster was looking at. Instead, he wrapped a glove over its cracked lips and stabbed the knife into the flesh where neck met chin. The Skull jolted out of its transfixed state and struggled in Dom’s grasp. The monster’s single clawed hand flailed, threatening to tear into Dom’s skin. It swung its half-arm in circles, which was equally dangerous with the sword-like growth protruding from where its forearm should be.

The monster shook its head back and forth. Using his body weight, Dom yanked the Skull backward. They fell onto the dock together. The blade dug deep into the creature until it was buried to the hilt. The Skull’s violent shaking and twisting subsided, and Dom lowered the corpse slowly.

He glanced up briefly to see what the Skull had been looking at. Had it seen another survivor across the river?

Then he spotted it: a gull swooping low over the docks. It soared on the updrafts and flapped its wings as it adeptly dove and climbed again and again over the boats. He imagined the Skulls clumsily diving after it, only to have their claws come up empty as the birds took flight. The Skulls here must’ve stopped howling and clamoring after they’d learned the birds were beyond reach.

The thought that the Skulls could learn anything, no matter how seemingly innocuous, frightened him.

But he couldn’t dwell long on their mental capacities. The former Marine was approaching now. It too gazed lazily into the sky at the flock of gulls. Dom rushed to another slip. A sailboat was moored there, obscuring him from sight. Dom lunged behind the monster as it walked past. He wrapped his hand around the Skull’s snapping jaw to clamp it shut as before. With his other arm, he swung the knife to deliver the killing blow.

The Skull’s arm came up at the same time. Its claws raked the air, trying for Dom’s flesh but instead knocking the knife from his grip. The blade skidded along the dock and teetered at its edge. His grip tightened around the monster’s neck, but the former Marine was far stronger than the Skull in the life vest had been. Dom grunted as he struggled to pull the Skull backward. It twisted side to side and bucked. He tried to flip the Skull onto its back, but the beast headbutted him instead.

The thud resonated through Dom’s head. Snowflakes sparkled in his blurred vision. He thought he heard a second set of footsteps running down the dock, but he couldn’t tell if it was a Hunter or another Skull. The effects of adrenaline assuaged the pain of impact but did little to right his muddled senses.

The Skull growled in Dom’s face.

Dom saw everything as if it was in slow motion. The creature’s lips curled back in a snarl. Its eyes widened, displaying the full intensity of the bloodshot orbs. Spit sprayed from its mouth as it prepared to let out a howl that would draw all the Skulls to the Hunters’ positions. Dom did the only rational thing he could think of in his head-aching state.

He headbutted the creature.

The snap of his helmet against its mouth cracked and splintered the monster’s teeth. It stumbled backward, dazed. Shaking its head, its body wavered back and forth as if it were dizzied.

Slightly disoriented himself, Dom pressed on with a jaw-breaking uppercut. The Skull’s mouth slammed shut. More teeth broke, and intense pain shot from Dom’s knuckles through his wrist and arm. He shook it out and delivered a side hook with his left hand. The Skull’s neck twisted farther than the limits of its skeletal plates would allow. Several of them fractured with an audible crack. Dom used the Skull’s confusion to his advantage. In one fluid motion, he swept up his knife and brought it down hard through the Skull’s eye. Blood sprayed around the wound, splashing and staining Dom’s sleeve.

In another swift movement, Dom caught the Skull as it slumped, lifeless, before it slammed onto the dock. He guessed the Marine had weighed a solid two hundred twenty pounds of muscle prior to his run-in with the Oni Agent. Now, with all the dense plating and overdeveloped muscles, it probably weighed almost twice as much. He strained to lower it gently and noiselessly until Miguel jumped forward to lend a hand.

“Could’ve been here a bit sooner,” Dom said.

“Thought you had it, Chief,” Miguel said. “Didn’t want to steal your kill.”

“When it comes to these bastards, feel free to steal as many kills as you want.”

Miguel carefully unwrapped his gloved fingers from around the Skull’s bony limbs. “Truth is, I was running to help. But I didn’t make it in time. When you threw those punches, I had to get the hell out of the way.”

Jenna and Glenn snuck down the dock and joined them. Dom flicked the blood off his knife and sheathed it. At Dom’s signal, they ran into the open boathouse.

Inside, several boats in various stages of repair were dry-docked. A lone Skull meandered between the vessels. Its shoulder blades stuck out like ornate axes, and its claws were longer than most other Skulls they’d seen. Each was nearly a foot long, but they seemed almost delicately thin.

Miguel nodded to it, claiming it as his mark. Dom gave him the go ahead. He was still recovering after his last bout. The Hunter crept around the hull of a speedboat and pounced on the Skull. He twisted his prosthetic, and the concealed blade whipped out. With a swipe, Miguel cut into the creature’s throat. Blood bubbled out of the gash in its throat and between its lips. Miguel tried to disengage his blade—but it had caught in one of the long, thin plates armoring the creature’s oddly graceful neck. He jerked his arm, but the prosthetic was stuck.

The Skull’s thin claws scythed out. Miguel ducked under the bony blades, but they cut through the artificial skin of his prosthetic, already marred by the Drooler’s acid from a prior battle. The covering came off in tatters, and the claws dug in between the wires and servos. The monster tried to withdraw, but they were firmly embedded. Skull and Hunter circled each other, bound and deadlocked.

“Miguel, duck!” Glenn grabbed an oar from the wall. His muscles tensed and then exploded as he swung it in a wide arc.

Miguel lowered his head just in time. The oar slammed into the Skull’s temple, shattering its antenna-like horns. Despite the head trauma and the wound in its neck still bubbling blood, the deceptively delicate-looking Skull continued to fight ferociously. If Miguel didn’t get free, it was only a matter of time until one of its strikes landed.

“Jenna, Glenn, on me,” Dom said. He waited for a moment when the Skull’s claw was drawn back again. At his signal, the trio lunged. Between the three of them, they grabbed the Skull’s flailing limbs and dragged it to the ground. It writhed and thrashed against their weight. They didn’t let up. Blood pooled around it. At last it gave a final tremble before lying still.

Dom worked to free Miguel’s prosthetic. Once he had chiseled away the final bit of broken bone, he helped Miguel leverage his blade from the Skull’s throat. It came out with a sickening slurp.

“Not quite as smooth as I expected,” Miguel said, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Nope,” Jenna said. “Not your finest fight.”

Dom gave them all a minute to recover before leading the group to the rear of the boathouse. He tapped on his smartwatch to display the map of what lay beyond the door. “Our target should be just down the block,” he said. “Ready to move out?”

The Hunters acknowledged the statement with silent nods. They tightened their grips around their suppressed rifles.

Dom slowly rotated the door handle and then peered out. An olive-hued jeep was parked nearby with the letters MP emblazoned on its door panels. A charred Honda sat in the middle of the road. An SUV’s front tires were planted on a smaller car’s hood as if the SUV driver had realized the vehicle wasn’t a monster truck halfway through the car-crushing maneuver.

Ignoring the vehicular carnage for the moment, Dom scanned the storefronts lining the street. The front windows of the bookstore had been blasted out, and shredded pages fluttered in the wind. Shops had been burned or looted, and a few of the buildings had been completely destroyed. Then he saw what he was looking for: Quantico Dive Shop. The wide front window was cracked from a few stray bullet holes. Dom could make out the shape of a mannequin in full SCUBA gear behind the fractured glass.

He hoped they’d be able to find what they needed inside the shop—but first the Hunters had to contend with the dozens of Skulls milling about the street. Many wore the remains of torn fatigues. Like the Skull Dom had fought at the docks, these creatures were heavily muscled and armored with thick, bony plates. None of these beasts would go down easily. Worse than that, the hunting cry of just one of these Skulls would attract the swarms Dom had no doubt were wandering about the Quantico military base.

Slowly, he closed the door. The others looked at him expectantly.

“What are we going to do, Chief?” Miguel asked.

Dom thought for a moment. Fighting the Skulls in an all-out brawl wasn’t smart. Trying to sneak down the street likely wouldn’t work either. Then he thought back to the first Skull he’d brought down on the dock, the one that had been so entranced by the seagulls. He reached into one of his tac vest pockets and felt around for an emergency pack of rations.

“This might sound insane, but I think I’ve got an idea.”

-26-

––––––––

Kara squeezed the rifle’s trigger. A Skull went down. Two more careened toward them. Kara focused on each Skull, one at a time, as they came down the corridor, screeching and howling in a furious rage. Her vision tunneled on the beasts. Meredith stood beside her, firing rhythmically. She could vaguely hear Maggie barking. Sadie was working with the Hunters to barricade the window they’d broken into.

Meredith had to stop to reload, and Andris joined them. His rifle chattered to life. Rounds lanced into the nearest Skull’s shoulder. But it wasn’t dead; it galloped at them on all fours like an animal. Kara caught the monster’s head in her sights and pulled the trigger again and again. Her ears rang with the enclosed gunfire, and spent cases bounced off the wall and pinged on the floor. The stock kicked against her shoulder. Her hands were shaking so badly that most of the rounds flew past the creature, but a few slammed into the thick, bony plates on its torso. Finally, a bullet cut through its nasal cavity. It toppled forward, falling over itself in a messy heap, and slid the rest of the way to Kara’s feet in its own blood.

As her hearing returned, she could make out the sounds of Skulls attacking the window the Hunters had bulwarked with desks, shelves, and chairs. They howled and clawed at the wood, and it wouldn’t be long before they broke through the makeshift barrier.

“No way that’s holding out,” Spencer said. “We need to go.”

“There,” Renee yelled, pointing down another corridor. “Skulls or not, we’ve got shit to pick up!”

Meredith took point, but when Kara tried to follow, Renee grabbed her shoulder. “You’re in the middle of the pack,” she said.

Spencer and Andris took rearguard as Maggie, Sadie, and Navid were ushered into the center of the formation.

“Damn it,” Spencer said, slamming the door to the office room shut. The additional barrier helped drown out the uproar of the hungry Skulls, but Kara could still hear them. “This was supposed to be an easy in and out.”

“Should we take them somewhere safe?” Meredith nodded to indicate Kara and the rest of the civilians. “I can keep watch over them elsewhere.”

“We’re already spread too thin as it is between Alpha and Bravo,” Renee said over her shoulder. “We’re safer together. No way I’m letting us get separated.”

Kara performed a tactical reload as she ran behind the others. As much as she wanted to prove to the Hunters that she was more than just deadweight, she preferred they didn’t run into more Skulls at the moment.

Renee led them through an intersection and along another corridor. They passed a myriad of doors but did not stop to check what lay behind them. Small, square windows in the doors allowed brief glimpses of the shelves, lab benches, desks, and chairs in various rooms, offices, and labs.

The hallway dead-ended at an enormous door. Unlike the other doors, the one before them looked like the entry to a bank vault. Renee didn’t have to issue any commands for Andris to step forward and set to work. Kara watched as he pressed plastic explosive in various spots around the door. Apparently they were no longer worried about making a quiet entrance. Speed was more important at this point.

Kara heard the telltale clicks of claws on tile and huffing breaths and growls of the Skulls scampering for food. The monsters wouldn’t know which path the Hunters had taken, but the explosion Andris was setting up would be a dead giveaway.

“Shelter! Now!” Andris shouted.

Spencer grabbed Maggie’s collar and shouldered through an office door. Kara and the others quickly joined them. They waited with bated breath until Andris appeared.

“Showtime,” he said. He depressed a detonator. An explosion tore through the hallway, kicking up broken tiles. Splinters whizzed through the air, and a dust cloud rolled past the office door. Overwhelming heat followed the screech of protesting metal.

They left the shelter of the office at a run. Howls and the click of Skull claws were growing louder. Kara watched the adjoining corridors as they ran. Her finger hovered near the trigger guard, and she reminded herself to wait for a clean shot at the first bony face to look in her direction. When the group reached the massive door, her heart climbed into her throat.

“It’s not open!” she said. The clamor of the encroaching Skulls was becoming deafening.

“Not to worry,” Andris said. He grunted and pushed on the door. Metal groaned, but it didn’t budge.

“Shit, man!” Spencer yelled, putting his shoulder into it as well, fighting against the evident pain of his injuries. Once Renee and Meredith joined in, the door slowly started to open.

The first Skull galloped down the hallway. It wore a civil service uniform. The clothes had once been white but were now stained with the dried blood of its prey. Kara fired on the beast as soon as it opened its fanged maw. Navid let loose with a pistol he’d been given. His shots were wilder than Kara’s, but he gallantly stood beside her, protecting Sadie and Maggie.

Kara’s gun kicked with each shot, and the blasts sent tremors through her arms. She trained the iron sights on one monster after another, but it didn’t seem to matter. The two amateur soldiers were no match for the rapid flow of the oncoming Skulls.

“We need help!” Kara barked, maintaining her aim. She fired again and again.

Meredith and Spencer soon stepped side by side with them and sent a devastating salvo of gunfire into the pack of Skulls. Bullets riddled the monsters’ ranks. The bodies piled up, but more Skulls trampled their fallen brethren.

“Door’s open!” Renee bellowed.

“Go, go, go!” Spencer said. He and Meredith covered Kara’s retreat. Andris helped them through the door.

Bones crunched under the weight of the hungry Skulls rushing toward them. Meredith and Spencer fired a final volley into the monsters. The carnage of the most recent charge clogged the hallway, but even as Meredith and Spencer ran through the door, Skulls squirmed through the wall of corpses after them.

“Everyone, help now!” Andris said. The entire group pressed themselves against the back of the door. Kara’s quads burned, and her boots slipped. The Hunters grunted, and Maggie barked wildly. Kara mustered all the strength she could. Sadie was sweating profusely beside her, throwing her back into it despite her small frame, and Navid let out a yell full of frustration and anger.

The door clanged shut with a satisfying ring. The muffled cries of the Skulls outside and their desperate scratching reminded Kara they weren’t yet safe, though. If the Hunters had been able to shove open the door, eventually the sheer, unorganized weight and strength of the Skulls might reopen it.

“This is it,” Renee said as she stared into the cavernous room that lay before them. Crates and cases filled various shelves. Massive steel girders and beams lined the space as if they’d been swallowed by a steel leviathan.

“The armory,” Spencer said, answering the question Kara hadn’t yet asked.

“The experimental armory, to be accurate,” Renee said. “Everyone knows what to get, right?”

The Hunters nodded, but Kara stepped forward. “What do you want us to do?”

Renee eyed the door nervously. “Find some cover and watch the door, okay? Yell if you need us. Shouldn’t take long.”

“You got it,” Kara said. She led Navid, Sadie, and Maggie to a steel crate. It was situated far enough away for Kara to feel a little safer while still giving a direct line of sight to the entrance. She heard the bangs and resonating thuds of the Skulls throwing themselves at the door. It seemed as though the door might actually hold out while the Hunters gathered the necessary supplies. But that left Kara with a frightening question. There was only one entrance and exit to the vault-like armory. With the Skulls desperate to get in, how the hell were they supposed to get out?

-27-

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Lauren followed Smith and the soldiers out of the lab and into the medical bay. She tried to maintain a bewildered expression, but inside she was frantic with worry. Had he already discovered her secret communications with Dom? Her mind raced through possibilities. She wondered if she’d screwed up the instructions Samantha had given her. That seemed the most likely explanation.

“What can I help you with?” she asked as innocently as possible.

One of them with a scar across his cheek gestured to the isolation ward where Scott and Ivan were lying in medically induced comas. Terrence was seated in another bed with fresh bandages covering his burns. “We heard those men were recovering from neurological trauma. Is that true?”

“Y-yes,” she stammered, now legitimately confused.

“And you’re keeping them in comas until the swelling goes down?” the scarred soldier said.

“Exactly,” Lauren said.

Smith narrowed his eyes and pointed toward a computer terminal. “Interesting. Because that’s not what’s on the medical charts.”

Lauren gulped. Of course. While she’d been focused on establishing comms with Dom, she’d neglected to see Smith and the guards do a fair bit of snooping on their own. The terminal in the bay allowed the whole team access to the patients’ charts. They’d never had a reason to protect those charts from prying eyes.

“I’m not sure what you thought you read, but—”

“Don’t lie,” Smith said. “The men in there were infected with the Oni Agent.”

Lauren fumed. “What’s your point?”

“Does your team have a cure for the brain damage the agent causes?”

“No, but if we can catch it in time, we can prevent the prions from—”

“Does your team have a cure for the damage?” Smith said, his voice rising. “I just need a simple yes or no.”

Lauren balled her hands into fists and said through gritted teeth, “No, not yet.”

“So these men are more or less Skulls, and you’re wasting resources to keep them alive.”

“While also risking the lives of everyone else on this ship if these monsters get out,” Scar added.

“They’re not monsters,” she said. “Their names are Ivan and Scott. And we’re working on—”

Scar raised his rifle to her chest. She shut her mouth with a snap, and they pushed her aside and stepped toward the isolation ward. Terrence asked them something, and then he stood up. Smith yelled at the Hunter, and they started arguing. Lauren tried to open the hatch, but another soldier—Tucker—kept it closed from the inside. Scar lashed out with his rifle and knocked Terrence back. He tore the tubes administering medicine and sedatives to Ivan and Scott.

“Just like the movies, right?” Scar asked his comrade as he unwrapped the packaging around a syringe and discarded a paper slip with instructions. He slammed the shot of adrenaline into Ivan.

The man jolted awake and looked around, confused. He thrashed in his bed, knocking off the sheets and revealing the restraints around his limbs.

Scar eyed the straps then glared at Lauren. His rifle barrel never wavered from the man’s chest. Ivan’s furious bellowing was loud enough to be heard through the isolation ward’s acrylic partitions.

A single shot echoed out.

Anger fueled her. She threw her body weight into the hatch. It gave slightly, and Tucker, still trying to hold it, cursed. Pain ran up her shoulder. She backed up and then rammed it again. More pain. But she didn’t care. Once more she hit the hatch. Tucker lost his footing. He slipped, and Lauren charged in. Smith aimed at Scott. Terrence lunged and wrestled him to the deck. The rifle went off, but the round sank into the bulkhead, missing Scott.

“Stop!” Lauren yelled over the incessant drone of Ivan’s flatlining EKG. “Stop!”

She grabbed the hot barrel of the rifle and pushed it away. Terrence struggled to subdue the soldier.

A loud blast echoed in the cramped quarters.

Scar, Lauren realized as she felt warm blood spray over her neck. Another blast. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. Something hit the back of her head. Her vision swam in reds and flashes of white. She pictured Glenn, his smile, his touch, his warmth. She imagined his embrace, and a momentary wave of comfort washed through her. She crashed to the floor as her world went dark.

***

Dom crumbled an energy bar into bits and held them in his palm.

“Can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Jenna said.

“Don’t have much to lose if it doesn’t work.”

“And if it does, I owe you a drink,” Miguel said.

Dom motioned for silence, and they settled into a hiding spot behind a dumpster. Down the street, the Skulls still prowled in front of the SCUBA shop. He tossed a handful of crumbs onto the sidewalk. Two gulls were circling overhead. One landed to check out the new source of food, and its companion quickly followed. Miguel and Glenn threw another handful each. A few more gulls flapped and squawked near the first two.

More gulls dove to the spot where they’d thrown the crumbs. The birds squawked and cawed loudly. They jostled each other for the morsels of energy bar. Their raucous cries were like music to Dom’s ears.

With a nod, Dom gestured for the Hunters to return to the boathouse. Dom leapt over a Skull they’d taken out on the way down.

One by one, the Skulls on the street turned and stared at the birds. One broke into a sprint. The others followed. Their bone plates rattled, but they didn’t let out their usual hunting cries. The first Skull pounced as the others drew near. It clenched its teeth around a bird. The flock took off but didn’t go far.

“Go!” Dom said. They ran across the now-empty street and tore into the dive shop.

The first Skull munched on a mouthful of white feathers, meat, and bone. The others stared sullenly at the birds, their eyes transfixed on the sky. As Dom had suspected, they’d learned that howling before pouncing meant their prey would escape. The Skull that had managed to snag a gull had only succeeded because it had adapted stealthier methods of attack.

They were definitely learning.

“Stay on your toes,” he said, probing the dark dive shop. He played his barrel between the shelves of equipment. “If they’re attacking birds like that, they might try the same tactic on us.”

They crept between the empty tanks, hanging wetsuits, and displays full of BCDs, regulators, and gauges. Fliers hung from bulletin boards advertising the next round of classes or week-long dive trips that would never happen. Dom instructed them to clear the shop before searching for salvage. He gestured to Miguel, and the Hunter moved behind the checkout counter in the rear of the store. Jenna covered his movements.

Miguel cursed suddenly, hopping back. He sliced out with his blade as Dom joined Jenna to investigate. A creature was crawling across the floor. Its lower limbs were gone except for the femur of its left leg. Near it lay a harpoon gun and another Skull. This one was dead. A harpoon was firmly embedded in its neck. A dried pool of blood surrounded the two monsters. Dom imagined the struggle that had taken place. The Skull with the harpoon through it had attacked the other, even gnawed off the other person’s legs. And in a desperate race for survival, that person had defended themselves. But the damage had already been done, their fate sealed.

The half-Skull dragged itself onward until Miguel lashed out again. He impaled the creature this time. Its claw reached for the Hunter once more, trembled, and then fell.

“Clear,” Miguel said.

“Grab a dive bag,” Dom said. “And start putting together kits. We need fins, regulators, BCDs, tanks, everything.”

“We got a problem,” Glenn said. “All the display tanks are empty.”

“Right,” Dom said, rubbing his eyes. “Glenn, you’re with me. Let’s see if we can fix the tank situation. Miguel, Jenna, pack those bags.”

“On it, Chief,” Miguel said.

Dom led Glenn down a short hallway next to a single bathroom. Pressing his ear to the door, he listened for any signs of lingering Skulls. There was no scratching. No growling.

“Ready?”

Glenn nodded, and Dom opened the door. Only a sliver of weak light made it all the way from the main room. There were no windows. The hairs on the back of Dom’s neck rose. He flipped on a barrel-mounted flashlight. Slowly, he swept the room. He felt hopeful at the sight of all the available tanks. Some had their valves off; those would be awaiting inspection and would therefore be useless to him. Most had intact valves, and he hoped he’d find some still holding pressure.

The attack came then. Quick and silent. Just as he’d warned the Hunters.

His heart climbed into his throat as the bloodshot eyes appeared in the flashlight beam. The mouth opened, and saliva sprayed out. Dom had only a second to parry the creature’s attack with his rifle. The impact sent the creature spinning into the darkness.

A hollow ringing and several thuds of metal against concrete came next as several tanks fell and rolled across the floor.

Glenn kept his beam on the monster like a spotlight. With one free hand, he dug out his knife. The Skull came at him, avoiding the light and skirting through the shadows. Dom tried to track it but lost the creature between the rows of cylindrical tanks.

“Where the hell did it go?” Glenn said in a low, urgent voice. Then he let out a yell.

Dom shone his light over Glenn. The Skull had its mouth clamped over Glenn’s right wrist. The man’s fingers twitched, and he dropped his knife. There was no way Dom could take a shot. Not in a room filled with high-pressure tanks and swarms of Skulls waiting in the street outside. He whipped out his knife and lunged. The blade sliced down but was deflected by the monster’s horns.

“Shit!” Glenn said, the Skull still clamped on his wrist. He swung the creature into a pile of empty tanks. They clanged and knocked against each other. One slipped from the chains holding them up next to the wall. It hit the floor and started rolling. Glenn stopped it with his foot.

A low growl escaped the Skull’s lips as it bit down harder. Blood flowed freely from the wound. The creature’s claws slashed at him, tearing large gashes into his fatigues and the skin underneath. Dom dove at the frenzied Skull. He tried to wrestle it away from Glenn, but with the Hunter’s arm in the way, there was little room to reach under the monster and slice its neck.

Glenn grunted and clenched his jaw. With his free hand, he picked up an empty tank.

“Stand back,” Glenn roared. He slammed the tank into the Skull’s head. A horn cracked in half. The monster’s limbs went still for a second, but its eyes remained locked on the Hunter with malicious fury. Glenn lost his grip. The tank clanged on the floor, and he fumbled as he reached for it.

Dom beat him to it. He hoisted the tank with both hands and bashed the Skull’s head. One heavy blow after another, he battered the creature until the plates and curling horns on its brow were no more. Miguel and Jenna rushed in, drawn by the sound. But there was nothing more they could do. Dom heaved the empty tank at the Skull one last time. Gore seeped through its cracked armor, and its jaw finally came loose from Glenn’s arm.

The Hunter recoiled. His face was pale, and he held his mangled wrist with his good hand. “Goddamnit,” he mumbled. “Can’t feel my fingers, Captain.”

“Hang in there, brother. We’ll get you out of here soon, okay?”

Miguel took out a syringe from his first aid kit. “For the pain.” He unwrapped it and stuck the needle in Glenn’s upper arm as Jenna started cleaning the wounds. Glenn remained stolid, though sweat poured down his forehead. He grunted when Jenna dabbed antiseptic spray over the injuries.

“Chelation?” Miguel asked.

Dom nodded. “Definitely.”

Miguel took out a second syringe and gave Glenn another shot. Jenna wrapped bandages around the injury.

“Going to need some stitches,” she said. “Don’t have a kit here.”

“We’ll take care of that as soon as we’re out of Quantico,” Dom said. “Grab tanks.” He eyed the air compressor and prayed they wouldn’t need to use it. Already a man down, they didn’t have time to slowly fill tanks with a noisy machine telling all the Skulls in the area where to find dinner. He checked the tanks with intact valves until he found a batch with tags marked FILLED. Lady Fortune had allowed them this small blessing. According to the paperwork accompanying the tanks, they’d been filled for a local diving certification class. The class had been scheduled right about the time the outbreak hit the East Coast.

With Miguel and Jenna’s help, Dom loaded the heavy metal cylinders onto a rolling cart and wrapped a chain around them. Before they left the backroom, he shone his flashlight over the air compressor again. Next to the hulking machine, there was a smaller diesel-powered backup gas compressor.

“Miguel, help me out with this,” Dom said. The two carried the compressor and placed it on the cart with the tanks. “Just in case.”

They wheeled the cart out to the front room. There, Dom helped Jenna and Miguel pack the rest of their supplies in large canvas dive bags. A glance at Dom’s smartwatch told him they’d found almost everything on their grocery list. There were just a few more items he hoped to find on their way back to the marina. They loaded the dive bags onto the cart, and Dom prowled to the store’s main window.

The pack of Skulls at the end of the street seemed to have grown bored with the birds. The street had either been picked clean of crumbs, or the gulls had become leery of the monsters. While most of the Skulls still remained concentrated a healthy three blocks north of Dom’s position, enough trudged nearer to make pushing a cart full of supplies dangerous.

“We need a new distraction,” Dom said.

Miguel eyed a nearby car. The front window had been broken into, and a picked-over skeleton was draped over the steering wheel. “I think I might have an idea.”

-28-

––––––––

Meredith tried calling Dom on the comm link again. “Alpha, this is Bravo, do you copy?”

Again, she got no response. Worry filled her. There was no way to tell Alpha of their plight or find out how they were faring.

“The walls are probably too thick down here,” Renee said. “I mean, it’s supposed to resist bombs and radiation, right?”

“Makes sense,” Meredith said. “I just hope that’s the reason for Alpha’s radio silence.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Renee said, packing small cylindrical objects into a canvas bag. “Probably better off than we are.”

The Skulls continued to clang and crash against the huge metal door. So far the door still held, but they would have to face the monsters sooner or later. And given their luck lately, Meredith guessed it would be sooner. Renee handed Meredith one of the cylinders.

Meredith examined the label. “Guess we might as well see if this works, huh?”

Renee shrugged. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

“Nope. Let’s see what happens.” Meredith tucked the cylinder into her belt.

Spencer had his arms full of gas masks. “We’re going to need these.”

“Right,” Renee said. She and Spencer passed them out to the group.

“What about Maggie?” Sadie asked.

“We don’t have any gas masks for dogs handy,” Spencer answered.

“I can carry her,” Navid said.

As everyone put on their gas masks, Meredith eyed the heavy door. She wondered how many of the creatures would be out there waiting for them. There was no way to find out other than by opening the door.

She adjusted the strap of her gas mask over the back of her head and then checked to make sure Sadie, Kara, and Navid had theirs properly tightened. When the group was ready, Meredith took the cool metal cylinder from her belt.

“Says it should work within ten seconds.” Meredith’s voice sounded garbled through the filtered rebreather.

Renee nodded. “That’ll be the longest ten seconds of our lives, but we need to hold out. You three.” She pointed to Navid, Sadie, and Kara. “Wait right where you are. Cover us if things get hairy. The rest of us will set off the gas. Try to open the door only enough to toss a couple of these out into the hall.” She held up one of the canisters.

“And if it doesn’t knock the Skulls out?” Meredith asked.

Renee grabbed an incendiary grenade. “Same thing, except we burn ‘em out instead of put ‘em to sleep.”

Andris’s brow furrowed. “Even I am not a fan of setting a fire so close to all of this.” He gestured to the armory’s ammunition, grenades, and other experimental explosive devices.

“Me neither. But it’s better than becoming Skull food,” Renee countered.

“We can agree on that,” Spencer grunted.

“Ready?” Renee asked.

Meredith steeled herself and stowed the gas canister back in her belt. “Let’s do this.”

Kara, Sadie, and Navid settled behind the steel crate again with Maggie. Meredith and the Hunters rushed to the vault door, where they each found a handhold.

“Pull!” Renee said. She kept rhythm like a coxswain, yelling “Pull, pull!”

Under the weight of the Skulls outside and the Hunters’ efforts inside, the door started to move. With a bit more work, she figured they’d have it open wide enough to throw out the gas canisters. What she hadn’t counted on was the Skulls going into a frenzy.

“Stop!” Renee said. The Hunters ceased, but the door continued opening wider. Skull claws reached into the cracks, dozens upon dozens of bony talons. Terrifying voices screeched, shaking Meredith’s eardrums. Her limbs started to tremble at the overwhelming sound, and for a moment she forgot what they were supposed to be doing. She was jolted back into action when Renee yelled, “Throw ‘em out!”

Meredith and Andris approached the gap. The wrathful eyes of the Skulls stared back at them. She snagged the gas canister from her belt and pulled the pin. With her hand still depressing the safety lever, she cocked her arm back. She gazed over the gnashing teeth and knife-like claws of the Skulls struggling to get in. Their bodies were packed wall-to-wall. Andris, standing beside her, looked equally perplexed.

“Got to make room,” Meredith said, drawing her handgun. At point-blank range, she shot a Skull. Blood and bone fragments sprayed out. The dead Skull fell back, giving her enough room to throw the gas canister. Amid the unholy cacophony of the Skulls’ screams and howls, she couldn’t hear the hiss of the gas canister. But soon she was rewarded as tendrils of gray smoke drifted into the armory from the hall.

Andris followed her example and blasted a Skull out of his way before forcing a canister out. More smoke shifted into the armory, casting a dull haze throughout the room. The Skulls didn’t seem to notice. They squirmed and writhed. Their teeth snapped together, and their claws scraped against metal. They tore into each other as they climbed over their fellow monsters in a desperate attempt to get in.

The squeal of protesting metal grew louder. Meredith and Andris unslung their rifles and started backing away from the door. Gray fog now filled the room. The door at last swung open, now wide enough for the first Skull to scuttle through. It raised itself up, its arms stretched high, claws glistening. A menacing cry bellowed from its throat, and it charged Andris. The Hunter didn’t flinch but instead put two shots into the monster’s head. The Skull crumpled, cut off in mid-howl.

“Careful!” Renee shouted. But she didn’t need to warn the Hunters. Meredith knew they were already aware a stray shot could set off a chain of explosions in the experimental armory.

More Skulls forced themselves in as the door was pushed ever wider. Meredith sighted one up. She held her breath and fired. The round slammed against the Skull’s shoulder and chipped off a spray of bone. The creature continued running at her. Aiming carefully again, she squeezed the trigger. This time a splash of violent red exploded. The Skull fell backward.

Yet more Skulls trampled its body. The Hunters’ careful salvos could not keep up with the creatures. Spencer threw another gas canister, as did Renee. They didn’t bother throwing them in the hall this time. The canisters pinged against the metal door and bounced along the floor, under the feet of the swarming Skulls.

The door gave way to the onslaught, and the Skulls flooded into the room. They moved like a raging river overflowing after a thunderstorm. The Hunters retreated to Kara’s position. Meredith felt an overwhelming shroud of dread fall over her. They were cornered. She hadn’t even said goodbye to Dom. And she’d failed him—failed to protect his family.

***

“Might as well try it,” Dom said. “You got a light?”

“We have matches in one of the emergency supply packs,” Miguel replied.

“Let’s do this.” He turned to Jenna and Glenn. “You two got our backs?”

Jenna and Glenn nodded, cradling their rifles. But it was clear from Glenn’s shaking that the Hunter would be of little help for the remainder of this mission.

Dom crouched at the dive shop’s front door. He ducked behind a wide concrete planter and then to the side of the BMW with the dead driver. Slowly, he reached up and pulled open the front door. Miguel fell in beside him and faced the rear of the car. He held a towel from the dive shop that he’d soaked in fuel from the portable gas compressor. As soon as he disappeared around the rear bumper of the car, Dom opened the driver’s door. The skeleton slumped out, and Dom caught it before the bones clattered against the sidewalk. He lowered the driver’s body gently and then stretched an arm over the front seat. With a quick pull, he released the emergency brake and put the car in neutral. Then he held down the brake pedal with his hand, still crouching next to the car.

“Ready, Chief,” Miguel whispered, his voice barely audible over the comm link.

“Light her up.”

“Done. Push.”

Dom released the brake. He stayed outside the BMW, hidden by the front door. Bending forward, he mustered all the strength he could. His boots slid and scraped on the concrete for a second until the car started moving. He could hear Miguel’s heavy breathing over the comm link as he grunted, shoving the rear bumper. The stink of burning diesel stung his nostrils.

Soon gravity came to their aid, and they both flitted back to the dive shop’s front door. The BMW rolled downhill toward where the majority of Skulls were gathered. Then it started veering right. Dom silently prayed that it would make it all the way down the hill.

The car accelerated. The noise of the tires bumping along the asphalt started to attract the attention of a few curious Skulls. They ran at the car. It hit one, and the car turned more aggressively right. It bounced over the curb and careened into the front window of an Irish pub. Glass shattered, and the BMW’s alarm went off.

A small trail of smoke continued to churn off the diesel-soaked rag Miguel had left dangling from the fuel tank. More Skulls barreled toward the wailing vehicle. Dom watched until the Skulls near the boat repair shop turned and sprinted at the sedan.

“Now!” he said. “Miguel, Glenn, get the cart to the docks and load it up. Jenna, on me.”

The men rolled the cart out the door. The tanks, despite the Hunters’ best efforts to secure them, clanged noisily. Several of the Skulls looked up from the wrecked car. One started running at Miguel and Glenn.

Dom aimed his rifle at the Skull. He had to time this shot right; he didn’t want the gunfire to attract all the riled-up Skulls.

A ball of fire erupted from the BMW. It lifted off the ground as its gas tank exploded. Tongues of orange flame swallowed the nearby Skulls, and Dom squeezed the trigger, the gunshot masked by the roar of the conflagration. The Skull chasing them fell, a bullet through its head, as the two Hunters took the cart around a corner. The fire crackled and spread to the wooden benches and bar inside the pub. A plume of black smoke billowed out of the broken window. Charred Skull corpses lay everywhere.

“Our turn,” Dom said. He and Jenna sprinted from the store. As they ran, more Skull voices wailed up around Quantico. They sounded as if they were coming from deeper within the base.

“Hurry!” he said.

They sped down the street until they were near the waterfront again.

“In here!” He indicated a wooden door with chipped white paint. With his shoulder, he rammed it open. Each second the Skull cries grew louder. They soon drowned out the roar of the fire from the pub. He ignored the hellish chorus and ran to the back of the repair shop. A door there opened onto a large dry-dock facility.

“See it?” Dom asked Jenna as he scrounged through toolboxes.

“Here!” She snagged a couple of large drills from an assortment of dive equipment. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

The Skulls outside threatened to drown out his thoughts as he looked over the drills. He noted the water resistance ratings. “Exactly. Grab the drill bits, too.”

Jenna scooped up a plastic case of bits along with several battery packs. She stowed the goods into her pack.

“Glenn, Miguel, how’s the boat situation?” Dom asked.

“Almost there,” Miguel said. “The cart spilled, but we’re moving again.”

“You two okay?”

“So far.”

“Good. Give us ten minutes.”

Dom and Jenna rushed out of the boat repair shop and toward another building closer to the Quantico base. The low-lying brick structure was situated just beyond the gate, defended by chain-link fences topped with barbed wire.

Dom glanced at his smartwatch to ensure they were on the right path. A small sign nearby confirmed that this was the Provost Marshal Office, the base’s military-police headquarters. The sliding front doors were made of wire-reinforced glass. Both were slightly askew, as if they’d been forced open. He ignored the glass that crunched under his boots and the broken Skull bodies within the front lobby. He didn’t have time to wonder what had happened here.

“We need to find the arms locker,” Dom said.

He and Jenna searched the lobby. Jenna pointed to a hallway beyond the metal detectors and security desks. “MP Offices and lockers. Maybe back there?”

The clamor of the Skulls sounded louder. Dom looked out the front door to see two creatures in military uniforms speed past the forced-open front doors. They were no doubt headed to investigate the source of the earlier explosion, as so many more of the demonic creatures soon would. He wondered how many of the monsters would be out there by the time he and Jenna had found what they were looking for. They’d find out soon enough.

Together, they dashed down the hall, breaking down doors and searching offices filled with fluttering papers, upturned desks, and broken chairs. They burst through another set of doors and ran down a flight of stairs. The sounds of howling Skulls and scratching claws sounded even louder.

Then Dom realized the noise wasn’t coming from outside.

-29-

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Kara fired a round into a Skull wearing a white lab coat. Shreds of blue nitrile gloves still hung from its claws. Other Skulls trampled it even as its body twitched. Then something slammed against the armory door. The impact let out a hollow, shaking thud, and the door swung wide open. An ear-shattering bellow thundered through the room.

Goliath.

Its jaw shook as it roared again. Both of its pointed tusks were stained with blood. The thick, hooking claws jutting from its massive fists clicked together as it bounded toward them.

Sadie screamed. Maggie let out a weak bark, her eyes half-closed, and then fell still beside Kara. She adjusted her aim. Fear latched its icy grip around her heart. Bullets pinged, cutting across the Goliath’s bulwarking chest plates and helmet-like skull. The beast’s manhole cover-sized feet landed on the smaller Skulls, crushing them. They squawked and squealed. Kara squeezed the trigger, wondering if this pull would be the one to set off an explosion or if she’d be lucky and bring down the Goliath. But even if they killed the giant, there were far too many smaller Skulls for them to fend off.

And then she noticed something that made a spark of hope ignite in her chest.

The smaller Skulls had started to stumble and trip over each other. They skidded along the floor or ran headlong into the metal shelves. One by one, they fell.

The Goliath crushed another fallen Skull. Its claws continued to arc through the air, and its mouth opened as if to roar again. Instead, its gait slowed until it was barely shuffling forward. The beast seemed to deflate, and it crashed to the floor. Several smaller Skulls were smashed by the tumbling behemoth.

The Hunters had stopped firing. They played their muzzles across the crowd of Skulls lying prone around the armory. Kara looked at Maggie. The dog’s chest was rising in slow breaths, but her eyes were closed.

“It...worked,” Renee said, almost distantly. “It worked!” She grinned and whooped, but then composed herself and added, “Stay sharp! It’s time to get back to our boat.”

Sadie was staring into the distance at some point Kara couldn’t see. She guessed her sister was in shock. She tried shaking Sadie, but it didn’t rouse her.

“Navid, help me with her?” she said, nodding at Maggie.

“Of course,” Navid said, scooping up the golden retriever. “Come on, Sadie. We’re alive. We’ve got this, okay?” He kept uttering words of encouragement as the group stepped over the sleeping Skulls.

Kara wiped a fleck of blood off her gas mask. It had become more and more difficult to find any open space on the floor to walk. Skull limbs were tangled where they had fallen. She tried desperately not to step on any. Soon the group had no choice but to climb over the pile of Skulls at the armory’s entrance.

“Careful,” Renee said unnecessarily.

Kara climbed over another Skull. A gray haze filled the hallway, and Kara felt almost reassured by the fog’s presence. It was like a force field around them. She sucked in a clean breath through the gas mask. As they trudged on, Sadie staggered, almost fainting, and Kara caught her in her arms.

“Need me to help?” Andris asked.

“Thanks,” Kara said. She felt slightly guilty as Andris took one of Sadie’s arms and lowered his rifle. She didn’t want herself or Sadie to burden one of the Hunters. Because, as they prowled through the hallways full of snoozing Skulls, she knew they’d soon be outside again and beyond the protection of the sleeping gas.

“Alpha, this is Bravo,” Renee called over the comm link. “Do you read?”

Kara stared intently at Renee, waiting for a sign. She wished she could see the Hunter’s face behind the mask.

“Roger that, Captain,” Renee said after a beat. “We got everything we came for. Even had a chance to try the knockout gas. Happy to report it works. We should be at your position within fifteen minutes.” She was silent for a long while this time. “Got it. Over and out.”

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Is my dad okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine. Glenn’s been injured, and the Skulls are gathering on their position. Dom and Jenna are picking up Tasers and other nonlethals from the MP station. After that, they’re done.”

Kara wanted to ask how many Skulls were out there, how her dad and Jenna would avoid the monsters, and how bad Glenn’s injuries were. But she let the questions remain unasked, figuring it would be better to focus on the task at hand. They weren’t out of harm’s way yet themselves.

Soon enough they reached the main entrance. Kara spotted the office where they’d entered. The door had been chewed to splinters, and as they passed the room, she saw their makeshift barricade was now nothing more than shattered fragments of wood. This time they didn’t have to use the window. Andris unlocked the mechanisms securing the formidable front doors and pushed them outward. The gray haze of the sleeping gas drifted out, dispersing into the open air. He jogged outside and took off his gas mask. The others followed and, one by one, removed their masks. With Maggie still sleeping in her arms, Kara couldn’t take hers off, so Meredith helped remove it. One of the clasps caught in her hair, and she winced.

“Sorry about that,” Meredith said, undoing the clasp. She stowed the mask into her pack with the others.

Although a few Skulls cried out in the distance, they made it back to the Zodiac before any appeared. Renee started the motor and directed the boat away from shore. Kara sucked in the fresh air over the river. The smell of cordite, blood, and death was gone, left behind in the experimental ordnance research building. The songs of birds in trees overlooking the river provided the soundtrack to their escape. She stroked Maggie’s golden fur and soaked in the warmth of the sun. If only her father was there with them, she might have actually felt happy and safe.

***

Dom played the muzzle of his rifle over the doors leading off the hall. Jenna followed close, her labored breathing loud over the open comm link. The intertwining smells of must and rotting meat wafted over them. Bones littered the floor alongside broken picture frames and fluttering sheets of torn paper. Cold seeped up from the concrete floors. The clanging of bones against metal rang out loudly.

Dom tried to make sense of the scene. Most of the walls were covered in splotches of blood and gashes from raking skeletal claws. He ignored the litter and signs of a lost battle, choosing to focus instead on the path forward.

“Captain,” Miguel’s voice called over the comm link. “Couple of Skulls hassled us at the docks.”

Dom paused as Jenna swept the hallway with her muzzle. “Found a boat?”

“Found one, got loaded up. Too many Skulls to board safely. We’re camped out in the boathouse. Need backup.”

“Alpha, this is Bravo,” Renee said. “We’re listening in and headed your direction. We’ll provide cover.”

“Copy that,” Dom said. “Bravo, stay back until Jenna and I rendezvous with Miguel and Glenn. We’re gonna have one shot at getting everyone out.”

Renee’s voice came back again. “Roger that. We’ll be awaiting orders, Captain.”

The clamor of the Skulls within the military police station grew more deafening as the hall opened into a larger room bathed in darkness. A stinging, pungent scent of death and decay threatened to overwhelm them. Their barrel-mounted flashlights were no match for the vast shroud of gloom.

“NVGs,” Dom said.

He heard the click of Jenna’s optics falling into place as he dragged his goggles down. The room lit up in an array of greens and blacks. Jenna inhaled sharply, the closest thing to a surprised gasp the seasoned Hunter would allow. Dom didn’t blame her.

Beyond the wire-reinforced windows and glass doors of the processing room, vertical metal bars formed a perimeter around several holding cells that lined the hallway. Each was chock-full of Skulls. They pressed against each other, their arms reaching between the bars, their claws cutting through the air. There was only a small pathway between their grasping limbs that stuck out from the holding cells. According to a placard hanging from the ceiling, that path led to the officers’ lockers and the firearms storage.

“There’s got to be another way, right?” Jenna whispered as they prowled toward the glass doors. “The only path to the lockers can’t be past the holding cells.”

“You’re probably right. But we don’t have time to scour the damn place for an alternate route.” He slowly opened the door, and the duo aimed their rifles around. The noise and stink rolled over them like a powerful wave.

“Stay low!” Dom yelled to be heard over the clamor. Jenna acknowledged the command with a thumbs-up. They lowered themselves into a crouching walk. Dom’s pulse raced. He fought every urge in his body screaming at him to run, to barrel between the lashing limbs.

But he knew that if he was careful and took it slowly, he could make it through the tunnel of slicing claws and clicking joints. The growls and the snarls of the frustrated Skulls surrounded them as they immersed themselves deeper into the living tunnel of bones. He kept repeating a single mantra in his mind: They’re behind bars. They’re behind bars. As fearsome as the twisted creatures were, Skulls couldn’t break through steel bars.

At least, the normal Skulls couldn’t. He shuddered at the thought of what a Goliath would do to the holding cells.

After what seemed like ages, he and Jenna cleared the writhing, desperate creatures who continued to cry out as their prey escaped.

“Wouldn’t you love to know the story of how so many of those assholes got put in there?” Jenna whispered.

“I think I’ll be okay without knowing that one.” He placed his hand on the handle of another door. A small, wire-reinforced window gave him a slightly obscured view of the next hall. “This better be it. Ready?”

Jenna backed away from the door and shouldered her rifle. She aimed down its sights, preparing to bring down any creature that might ambush them. “Ready.”

Dom shoved the door open. Jenna drifted past with the smoothness of a floating ghost. Her torso swiveled left and right as she cleared the hall. Dom followed after her in a half-crouch, covering her back. He chose his steps carefully to avoid chewed bones. A couple of helmets lay on the floor next to a ribcage and broken hip bones. Spent bullet cases were everywhere, gleaming in his NVG-enhanced sight. He tried to read the placards along the hallway. Most were covered in dark stains, but he made out one he thought had, at one time, spelled LOCKER.

He signaled Jenna to the door. There was no window in this door to tell him what was next. He twisted the handle, held his breath, and swung the door open.

Jenna’s barrel aimed left, then right. She took a few quiet steps forward before Dom followed. Rows of lockers formed three aisles in the middle of the room. They scanned the aisles, one by one. Some lockers hung open. Other locker doors were dented. A few were torn off. More bones lay around the floor. A bulletproof vest lay over a cracked ribcage.

Didn’t do the owner much good, Dom thought.

They moved through the center aisle to the back of the locker. There, they found an open doorway to the showers and a closed door leading to the firearms storage. Dom gestured to the door with a nod. Finally, they’d found what they’d come for.

Like before, he prepared to open the door, and Jenna lined up ready to fire on anything waiting beyond it. He started to twist the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Something was behind it, blocking the door. He pushed harder, but it gave only slightly. Images of Miguel and Glenn bunkered down in the boathouse whirled through his mind. They didn’t have time for obstacles like this.

He took a step back and then rammed the door with his shoulder. The impact sent a wave of pain through his bones. Whatever was behind the door crashed to the floor in a jumble of falling wood and clanging metal. The noise echoed hollowly in the locker room.

As the makeshift barricade settled, Dom heard something behind him. A loud gurgling announced the presence of a Drooler. The ugly creature clumsily walked out of the showers. Its claws twitched, and its skinny, bony arms trembled. The void where its jaw had been revealed the dark recesses of its devastated throat. The gurgling grew louder, and the beast let loose its acid spray.

-30-

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Dom shoved Jenna past the broken desks and chairs into the other room. Acid splashed against the locker room walls. The Drooler stumbled forward, still gushing. The corrosive liquid hit the door. Wood burned and sizzled as the acid hit.

Another rasping noise caught his attention. Jenna had already turned to deal with another Skull. This one wore a ragged uniform that hung off its limbs in tatters. A patch on its left shoulder was emblazoned with the letters MP, and it still wore a blood-spattered riot face shield. A rifle was slung across its back, but the strap was entangled in its overgrown shoulder blades. A bulletproof vest strained against the spiky ribs growing out from its flesh. It ran at Jenna, its feet clicking along the concrete as the Drooler lumbered toward Dom.

The Drooler was gurgling again. Dom played his rifle over the thing’s head. He had to be very careful at this range; a misplaced bullet could cause the Drooler to erupt and douse him and Jenna in its devastating brew.

A smattering of gunfire sounded off to his right as Jenna tried to bring down the MP Skull. Dom heard rounds thud against the monster’s body armor—both the military-issued vest and plates and the organic skeletal bulwarking. Bullet cases pinged across the floor as the creature screamed in fury.

Dom had to trust Jenna to handle it. The Drooler wrenched its head back in preparation for the second round of acid. Dom fired. Two rounds lanced through the back of the creature’s throat, but it continued to gargle. Another blasted its eye socket. The Drooler listed to its left. As the sounds of Jenna’s struggle with the MP Skull continued, Dom lowered his shoulders and ran at the Drooler. He slammed into the monster and picked it up. The creature let out a long groan.

He threw the Drooler into the showers where it had come from. Acid shot from the creature’s gruesome mouth as it twisted through the air. It crashed into a tiled wall, and several bony plates split with an audible snap. Acid bubbled through those fresh cracks. Dom ducked as more acid burst from the monster’s belly, tearing the Drooler open. It sizzled and popped as it hit the tiles. Wet, slurping sounds echoed off the walls as chunks of acid-soaked flesh dripped down.

The creature ignored what Dom assumed would be sheer, unadulterated agony and flipped itself over to crawl toward Dom, dragging its ruined body through pools of burning acid with its dissolving front claws. Its one good eye looked at him with pure malice. Dom tore his HK45C from his side holster and sent three rounds of hot lead through the Drooler’s skull. The creature’s face disappeared in the blaze of gunfire, and it finally stopped. Its body was slowly disintegrated by its own acid.

With the pistol still in his hands, he ran to Jenna. She was on her back, blood dripping from a wound in her head. Her rifle lay several yards away on the floor. Her fingers were wrapped around the Skull’s wrists, holding the monster back. It snapped and writhed, pushing her along the floor. Its jaws gnashed behind the riot shield visor, and it slammed its head down as if trying to take a chunk out of Jenna’s face. The visor prevented the creature’s teeth from tearing into her flesh, but it did nothing to lessen the impact of the monster’s helmet cracking against Jenna’s skull again. She yelped in pain and fought to keep the creature at bay.

Her arms shook with the effort. Dom saw she wouldn’t hold out much longer. He also realized he couldn’t take a shot without risking hitting her. Besides, the damn monster was twice as well protected as a normal Skull.

He holstered his weapon and ran straight at the Skull. His momentum carried it off Jenna and into the wall. Shelves tumbled around it, spilling file folders. It screamed, and bloody spittle sprayed the inside of its visor. With a kick, it brought itself back to its feet and sliced at Dom. He ducked to avoid the crooked claws and returned the attack with a boot to the creature’s knee. The bony plates cracked, and its joint bent backward. It stumbled forward, still lashing out.

Dom planted another boot on its chest and sent it sprawling. Seeing an opening, he jumped on the Skull’s chest, keeping it down with his knee, and unholstered his pistol. He pressed the barrel under the Skull’s chin and pulled the trigger. Chunks of flesh and bone spattered the inside of the visor and helmet. The creature’s flailing limbs went still, and its head lolled to the side.

Dom’s chest heaved as he gasped for breath. He ran to Jenna and knelt by her side. “You okay?” He looked at the bleeding gash across her forehead.

“Dazed, but all right,” she said.

“Your head?”

She wiped away the blood with the back of her gloved hand. “No Oni Agent contact. Just busted open from that asshole’s helmet.”

Dom offered her a hand. She took it and stood. After brushing herself off, she recovered her rifle and then picked up Dom’s and tossed it to him. They stood, back to back, and surveyed the room. He spotted a case of bottled water near a box of MREs along with several weapons. But, most importantly, no more Skulls.

He saw gauze wrapped around the MP Skull’s wrist. It had probably been a minor injury, just a small scratch. The story was all too familiar to Dom, and he could easily guess what had happened. After locking the infected in the holding cells, the MP had barricaded himself in here with enough supplies to hold out until help arrived. He would have had no idea that one scratch was all it took to become one of the monsters himself.

“You’re sure the cut was only from the helmet?” he asked Jenna.

“One hundred percent.”

“Okay, you know what to look for.” The back half of the room was protected by a chain-link cage. With the door already swinging wide open thanks to the MP’s attempt to arm himself, they walked right into the weapon stores. There were racks of rifles, shotguns, and pistols. But those weren’t what Dom was looking for.

“Here we go!” Jenna said, opening a metal container full of plastic pistol-shaped weapons. “First on the list.”

Dom helped Jenna pack as many Tasers as they could carry. They found a crate of flash-bangs next. Another box was labeled calmative agents and contained non-lethal, or at least less-lethal, tranquilizing munitions and rifles. They took these, too.

“I think we’re set. Miguel, Glenn, you still holding out?” Dom asked as he and Jenna snuck back through the carnage of their recent battle.

“Haven’t moved, Chief,” Miguel whispered in reply. “Definitely going to need some firepower to get out of this one.”

“And we’re in position on the water,” Renee said. “Ready to provide that backup.”

“Good,” Dom said. “We’re on our way.”

They left the locker room and returned through the hall. The holding cells greeted them with the same chorus of growls, snarls, and howls as before. They crawled under the reaching claws. One snagged the pack on Dom’s back. He pulled against it, but the claw didn’t let go. Fabric tore, and Dom batted the stubborn Skull with his rifle until it released. Scuttling under the other scything talons, he escaped the holding cells with Jenna close behind. They ran through the rest of the station with no further attacks by ravenous Skulls.

Once they were outside, it was a different story entirely.

The landscape was roiling with Skulls. Most of the creatures seemed to be concentrated in the block of Quantico where the BMW had exploded, but more meandered through the rest of the streets, and packs prowled the woods. Dom’s stomach dropped when he spotted two Goliaths on a collision course with the marina.

There would be no easy route to the boathouse. Instead of going straight through the Skulls, Dom steered them south to loop around the wanderers. They flitted between parked vehicles and low-lying brick buildings. Avoiding most of the Skulls, they only had to bring down a few with knives before they reached a spot near the riverbank where they had a clear view of the boathouse.

Skulls wandered along the docks. At least twenty, by Dom’s estimate, though it was hard to gauge their numbers as they meandered in and out of the marina looking for prey. The two Goliaths were easy to spot. One was already sniffing around the south side of the boathouse. The other, drawn by the first’s curiosity, made its way there. The first Goliath had long spikes curving up out of its shoulder blades and spine like a porcupine. The second had much smoother plates, but tusks jutted from a massive underbite. The creatures were directly blocking Dom and Jenna.

Dom waited, hoping they’d grow bored and lumber off somewhere else. Instead, the porcupine Goliath tried to push past the tusked one. The tusked Goliath shoved the porcupine. The two began grappling with each other. They rolled and fought, pummeling each other with their colossal fists. Each blow would have crippled a normal human.

The tusked Goliath threw the porcupine into a building. The brick wall crumbled around the thrown creature, and a cloud of dust rolled into the air. The commotion drew the attention of the other Skulls, and they gathered near the battle. Some looked around as if wondering where the food was. Others gazed half-interestedly at the Goliaths.

“Might be our best chance,” Dom said. “Glenn, Miguel, get ready to move.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Glenn replied.

“Which boat are we headed for?” Dom asked.

“See the thirty-foot catamaran? The Excelsior?”

Dom spotted the craft. Its sails were lowered, but its two outboards were already in the water. Half a dozen Skulls lingered around the catamaran’s slip. “Found it. Ready, Jenna?”

She gave him a firm nod.

Dom sprinted to the cover of a dumpster. Once Jenna had joined him, he dashed to a parked truck next. They carried on like this until they’d reached the parking lot near the boathouse. Skulls still lingered in the lot as the battle between the titans raged on.

Several Skulls cried out as they were crushed under the giant monsters. Dom watched as the tusked Skull tore off two of the porcupine’s massive spikes and used the bony weapons to spear the creature. The Goliath roared as blood trickled from the wounds in its abdomen. It clamped its hands around the other Goliath’s head. Bone cracked and split. The tusked Goliath flailed, and then a loud pop sounded. The porcupine Goliath raised its bloody hands in the air and bellowed. The other Goliath’s body fell, now headless, and smashed two Skulls who weren’t fast enough to escape.

“Renee, move the Zodiac in for cover fire,” Dom yelled. “Miguel, Glenn, run!”

Dom sprang from his hiding spot. He and Jenna ran for the dock. They fired into the Skulls directly in their path. Those that the bullets didn’t take out were knocked back by the stocks of their rifles. Dom’s vision became tunneled on the dock ahead. He was only vaguely aware of Miguel and Glenn shooting their way out from the boathouse. Jenna’s rifle chattered behind him as he plowed through another Skull. Flashes of muzzles lit up from the middle of the river as the team on the Zodiac laid down cover fire.

Glenn and Miguel made it to the Excelsior first. Glenn undid the mooring lines and then started the outboards. They growled to life as Miguel fired at the Skulls chasing Dom and Jenna. The dock trembled. An unmistakable bellow told Dom exactly what was causing the boards to quake.

“Get the boat moving!” Dom yelled.

“But—” Miguel started.

“Go!” Dom screamed.

His arms pumped in rhythm with his legs. Jenna was running ahead of him now, her youth giving her a slight edge in the race for survival.

Miguel hopped into the catamaran as it began moving away from the dock. As soon as he hit the deck, he spun and fired on the Goliath.

The salvos coming from the Zodiac grew more frantic. The pack on Dom’s back felt suddenly heavier—a smaller Skull had latched onto his bag. Dom refused to let it go and lose all the tools they’d fought so hard to gather.

The spiked Goliath was gaining. Dom battered the smaller Skull on his pack once, then twice with his rifle. The creature loosened its grip, and a third smash sent it skittering to the dock. Dom leapt into the catamaran as the smaller Skull was crushed under one of the Goliath’s feet.

“Move!” he yelled.

Glenn pushed the throttle all the way forward. The catamaran accelerated, and water sprayed along its dual-hulled bow.

But this type of boat wasn’t built for speed. The Goliath’s legs coiled, and then it jumped. Its claws stretched for the boat. It landed in the water, sinking under its enormous weight. But the river was shallow enough for the creature to stand. One clawed hand grasped the back railing of the catamaran.

The outboards churned, whining and growling against the Goliath’s grip. The monster’s muscles roiled. Vessels bulged between plates. It let out another bellow that almost blew Dom backward. Leveling his rifle straight into the Goliath’s mouth, he flipped the selector on his rifle to automatic and squeezed the trigger. Bullets plunged through the soft flesh of the Goliath’s mouth. Dom didn’t let up until its roar devolved into a death rattle. The creature started to slip under the water’s surface.

But the dying Goliath didn’t release its grasp on the gunwale. The bow of the boat jutted upward as if it were sailing for the sun. Jenna almost lost her footing, narrowly avoiding rolling back over the stern and into the river.

Dom tried to pry the sinking Goliath’s fingers and claws from the railing, but it was no use. Each finger was the size of his wrist. His mind raced as Jenna and Miguel worked to free the Goliath’s grasp while Glenn struggled with the boat’s throttle and wheel. Skulls were pouring down the docks. They sprinted toward the soon-to-be-sinking boat. Renee and the other Hunters fired from the Zodiac as they motored toward the catamaran. Dom could see they wouldn’t make it before the smaller Skulls leapt aboard.

The stern slipped further underwater, and the bow heaved upward. A loose dive tank rolled into Miguel, and the Hunter was thrown into the railing. Jenna yanked on his tac vest to prevent him from falling overboard.

They were about to lose the catamaran and everything they’d risked their lives for in Quantico. Without the supplies they’d retrieved, his plan to retake the Huntress would not succeed. Dread filled him as the Hunters failed to save the sinking boat. They’d been so close.

So goddamned close.

-31-

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Shepherd stared through the binoculars at Kent Island. The broken columns of the Bay Bridge jutted up from the water like the remains of a sunken city. Smoke drifted up in long fingers from the towns and around the eastern side of the island. He prayed they were bonfires and not the smoldering remnants of a battle.

“Keep a safe distance,” he commanded.

“Yes, sir,” Rachel responded, manning the sailboat’s tiller.

They sailed along Kent’s western coast as Shepherd surveyed the place. His heart leapt when he saw children playing on the lawn. He spotted a group of adults nearby. Tents were set up beside a parking lot, and people cooked food over campfires. Everything appeared more or less normal. Then he spied the olive drab of a Huey. More choppers were lined up in a small airfield surrounded by an array of small, single-engine planes.

Soldiers in standard-issue uniforms hauled supplies between the choppers and idling trucks. Once loaded, the trucks drove east. That was where Rachel and Rory had told Shepherd the bridge’s defensive wall had been constructed by the civilians abandoned on Kent. Now, the Army seemed to be making an active effort to aid in those defenses.

But Shepherd was skeptical of the Army’s motives.

“You think they’d bring us back in if they saw us?” Rachel asked, echoing his thoughts.

Shepherd shrugged, lowering his binos. “Hard to say. Where’s the best place to land without getting too much attention?”

Rachel scrunched her face up in thought. “There’s a park just north of where the Bay Bridge used to meet the island. Might be our best bet.”

“Okay, then let’s make landfall there.”

Rachel continued tacking north until they spotted the park. She steered the boat to a spot where the dense foliage would shelter them from view and dropped anchor.

As they left the boat, they slung their rifles over their backs. After spending so much time in areas overrun with Skulls, traveling by land without a weapon seemed foolhardy. He hoped there would be no reason to use the weapons here, but he’d rather be prepared. The island was supposed to be clear of Skulls, but the monsters weren’t the only threat anymore. Shepherd didn’t want to raise his weapon against another human being, but if his life or the lives of the midshipmen were in danger, he might have to.

Rachel and Rory led on, winding between the trees and bushes. They looked haggard. Their clothes hung off bodies covered in dirt and dried blood. He imagined that he must not look any better. They’d have a hard time blending in with the rest of the civilians sheltered here. To make matters worse, he still wore fatigues from his time at Detrick. He would stick out like blood on snow if he tried to meld into the civilian population. He decided they’d need a different tack.

“I think it’s best we hide in plain sight,” he said. “Trying to play hide and seek in this place is just going to make us appear more suspicious. If we see people you know, we’ll avoid them. Otherwise, try to look normal.”

Rachel nodded, already adopting a casual expression. Sweat beaded down Rory’s forehead, and he forced a cheesy smile.

“Maybe don’t try that hard,” Shepherd chided the young man.

Rory stopped smiling and tried to walk with the same nonchalant stride as Rachel. She led them through a small town on their way to the barracks. Civilians were gathered to collect vegetables from a nearby garden. At a store plastered with advertisements for cheap souvenirs, shelves were filled instead with bottled water and canned food. A man and woman in police uniforms supervised a line of people waiting for rations to be distributed by an elderly couple manning the counter inside.

Shepherd couldn’t help but marvel at these people’s resiliency. This place was a stark contrast to the Skull-filled wasteland his hometown, Frederick, had become. It gave him hope that people would continue not only to fight the Oni Agent outbreak but actually thrive in pockets of civilization like this where order and common human decency still existed.

“Sir!” one of the policeman yelled. “Sir, hold up!”

Shepherd felt his stomach flip but tried to steel himself. He spun on his heels and faced the officer. “What can I do for you?”

The man smiled and held out three water bottles. “Here. You look like you could use it.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said, not missing a beat as she took one.

Shepherd unscrewed the cap on his and took a swig. “I appreciate it, officer.”

“No worries,” the policeman said. “Thank you for your service.” He jogged back to his post.

As they continued, they passed other similar scenes. The sounds of hammers pounding nails rang out as people built makeshift shelters. Others toted packs full of goods, and Shepherd spotted smaller groups on patrol. A group of senior citizens sat on a porch. Their voices carried over the street as they knitted and sewed clothing. Everyone had a job, and everyone seemed determined to do it.

But Shepherd’s optimism flagged as they approached the barracks. Men and women in uniform were gathered around the nearby town hall. Others were marching toward the defensive wall, and still more checked over carts of supplies.

“Anyone you know?” Shepherd asked.

Rachel and Rory scanned the crowds.

“No,” Rachel said. “Just a lot of new faces.”

“Not what I expected,” Shepherd said. “Kinsey said he wasn’t sending out reinforcements to non-strategic civilian locations.”

“Sounds like he changed his mind,” Rory offered.

“I don’t think so,” Shepherd said in a gruff voice. “He was purposefully keeping me in the dark.” He shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand and studied the soldiers moving between the buildings. “I want to make this quick. Rachel, head into the barracks. Check for the radio. If you don’t see it, return immediately.”

She nodded and marched with purpose toward the barracks. Shepherd admired the way she handled herself. The other soldiers didn’t give her a second glance because she acted like she belonged there and knew exactly what she was doing. She disappeared inside, and Shepherd retreated to one of the picnic benches in the town’s small park. He pulled a map from his pack and laid it on the table. He beckoned Rory to sit across from him.

Rory tilted his head quizzically. “What are we looking at?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shepherd said, “as long as we look busy doing it.”

They faked a conversation over the map. Shepherd could feel the eyes of two passing soldiers trace over them, and he fought to keep his shoulders loose. He was accustomed to leading men and women like these, but he wasn’t used to playing spy around them. Their gaze must’ve been nothing but bored curiosity, and they continued on their way.

A low buzzing noise sounded over the street and the park. Shepherd looked around, trying to find the source. Soldiers started mustering near the barracks. They took off in squads headed eastward toward the bridge. One lieutenant caught Shepherd’s eye.

“Hey!” the man said, his brow furrowed. Shepherd stood, and Rory jumped up nervously. He held out his hands, ready to surrender. Instead, the lieutenant pointed at the gathering squads. “Didn’t you hear your radios? We got Skulls on the bridge!”

The low buzzing noise suddenly made sense. The US Armed Forces had adapted to the Skull threat, just as they’d adapted to the changing landscape of military strategy from World War II to the War on Terrorism. This time, the leadership had learned loud noises, like the traditional alarms and klaxons that might announce an attack, would only serve to attract more Skulls and rile them up. The radios Shepherd saw on every soldier could be used to more effectively muster the island’s defenses.

He tried to make his way through the surging crowd toward the barracks, but he and Rory were soon swept up in the swarm of soldiers, civilians, and people in various law enforcement uniforms rushing to the bridge.

“Rory!” a female voice yelled over the crowd.

Shepherd snapped around and spotted Rachel emerging from the barracks. She jostled through the crowd and caught up to them as they ran to the bridge.

“Did you find the radio?” Shepherd asked.

“No,” she said between breaths. “All my stuff’s missing.”

“Damn,” Shepherd said.

“What now?” Rory asked.

Shepherd saw the mass of soldiers and civilians taking up positions along the wall. He wouldn’t refuse the chance to help save the civilians. It was the reason he’d originally enlisted, and he would never turn his back on the oath he’d taken. Besides, turning away from this fight would make them appear like deserters, and that would attract exactly the wrong kind of attention.

The crack of gunfire sounded over the howls of Skulls and the deep bellows of a few Goliaths. As a low explosion rocked the bridge, Rory’s question still echoed in his mind.

“What now? We kill some Skulls,” Shepherd said.

***

A pounding agony stabbed behind Lauren’s eyes, and the back of her skull throbbed. Blinking, she adjusted to the harsh lights. Indistinguishable voices started to filter through her muddled hearing. The pain ebbed and flowed in time with the pounding of her pulse. She tried to reach up to the back of her head, suspecting she would find a bleeding wound or large knot. But her arm didn’t move. A slight pressure caught her wrist, and, through her dizziness, she realized she’d been cuffed. Plastic zip-ties secured her wrists to the bedrails.

She blinked again, clearing the buildup in the corner of her eyes. The scent of gunfire and blood contrasted harshly with the sterile smell of cleaning solutions and filtered air. She forced her eyes to stay open even though it felt as if she was suffering from the worst hangover in her life. She looked to her right, where the voices were coming from. Terrence’s cheeks were red. Not with blood, but aneurysm-inducing rage. Vessels bulged along his forehead, and he was lashing out like he was possessed by the Oni Agent. But his eyes weren’t bloodshot, and the words coming out of his mouth were far too coherent for him to be a Skull. He too had been cuffed to a bed.

“You assholes!” he yelled, straining against the cuffs. His balled-up fists turned white. “You killed them! You killed them in cold blood!”

It all came back to Lauren like a forty-ton, fully loaded semi-truck barreling straight at her. Ivan and Scott were dead. The guards had woken them from the medically induced comas and shot the Hunters.

She tried to speak, but her jaw ached. It clicked when she opened it, and pain radiated through the bone and tissue. She guessed she’d suffered a concussion when one of the soldiers knocked her out. Her face would no doubt be an ugly mess, but nothing compared to the pain or ugliness of the sight before her.

A pair of white sheets, stained with crimson blossoms of blood, covered the bodies on the floor. She wanted to cry. She wanted to yell. She wanted to hurt the men who’d played judge, jury, and executioner in her medical bay.

Emotions battered her mind like a relentless squall, but her medical training helped her fight them back. It wasn’t always easy, nor was it pleasant, but it oftentimes became necessary to be detached and rational when treating and operating on her fellow crewmates. No amount of cursing would bring Ivan and Scott back to life. She let the heat of her anger dissipate. A couple of tears still traced their way down her cheeks, but she ignored them and tried to sit up straighter.

Terrence continued yelling, but the soldiers and guards disregarded him. They were conferring outside the hatch of the isolation ward. His voice would hardly be heard out there through the acrylic windows and thick partitions.

“Terrence,” Lauren said. The word was barely a whisper through her cracked lips. “Terrence,” she tried with a bit more force. The Hunter either didn’t hear her or didn’t care, lost in his rage. This time she mustered all her strength and, ignoring the blazing pain in her jaw, shouted, “TERRENCE!”

The man’s eyes caught hers. Veins still pulsated in his temples, and his cheeks were still brilliant crimson. But he had stopped screaming. Through gritted teeth, he muttered a single syllable. “What?”

“I’m angry too,” she said. “I will not forgive them. And I will not forget Ivan or Scott.”

Terrence stared at her. His chest rose and fell in quick, staccato breaths.

“But we can’t help them now. They’re gone.”

His nose scrunched into a snarl, and he appeared ready to levy a whole new batch of insults at her. Lauren shot him a cold stare. She said nothing until he calmed himself.

“We can’t help them,” she repeated, “but there are others who need our help.” There was no way the soldiers outside could hear her, but she lowered her voice anyway. “Dom needs us.”

“But—”

“Just be quiet and trust me,” she said, a note of irritation breaking through her calm façade. “We are going to get out of here, and then we are going to save our crew and the Hunters in the field.”

Terrence nodded. The color in his cheeks started to return to normal. His breathing became steadier, but his fists remained balled and his jaw clenched. “What do we do first?”

“We wait.”

A look of disgust traced itself across Terrence’s face. His nostrils flared. “For how long?”

Lauren looked around the ward. Ivan and Scott’s remains hadn’t been touched since the shooting. The wetness in her own hair at the back of her head told her the soldiers hadn’t even bothered giving her rudimentary medical care. Spent bullet cases rolled along the deck with the gentle sway of the sea. Through the acrylic window, she saw Smith holding a white cloth to his jaw. It was stained red.

“They aren’t done in here,” she said.

The hatch to the med bay opened, and Peter came out. Deep wrinkles were etched across his brow. Lauren could practically see the anger seething through him. But like her, he was a trained medical professional. She trusted him to keep his cool as he confronted Smith. They exchanged a series of inaudible arguments and a multitude of wild hand gestures. Eventually, Smith slammed his hand on a button near the isolation ward’s hatch. The sterilization chamber hissed open, and Peter stepped in. After waiting for clean air to refill the chamber, the inner hatch unlocked.

“Lauren, are you okay?” Peter asked, striding toward her. He shook his head. “Of course not. Stupid question. Sorry.” He gently helped raise her head enough to examine her wound. “I probably don’t need to tell you that there’s a nasty bump back here. Likely concussion. Going to clean this up.” He started dabbing it with gauze and sprayed an antiseptic solution into her matted hair.

“When do I get back to the lab?” she asked. The computer in the lab was her only link to the Hunters—and a vital part of her plan to take the ship back.

“You won’t be,” Peter said, not bothering to look up from his work. “Going to need some stitches. Hold on.” He left the isolation ward to get supplies.

“What does he mean you won’t get back to the lab?” Terrence asked.

Lauren lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. She watched Peter talking to Smith again. He moved to a cabinet and took out a prepacked suture set, showed it to Smith and the others, and returned.

“Are they going to hold me here?” she asked as Peter applied a local anesthetic.

Peter caught her eyes and gave her a meaningful stare. “Look,” he said. “This may have worked out for the best. I managed to get through to Renee. She told me what they planned to do.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Smith and Tucker. One had begun the routine entry process to enter the isolation ward. “Don’t have much time, but you’ll know when and how to use this, right?” He placed a small, flat plastic package in her right hand. Her fingers curled around it as the inner door to the isolation hatch unlocked. “Remember, I’ve got emergency gas masks stowed in the decon chamber.”

She had a thousand questions on her mind. But as the inner hatch opened and Smith, cradling his weapon, stared over Peter’s shoulder, she knew she wouldn’t have a chance to ask any of them. Lauren would have to take her own advice: trust and wait.

-32-

––––––––

Shepherd climbed a short wooden ladder over a wall of corrugated sheet metal. He stood on top of a makeshift catwalk beside Rachel and Rory. All around, the clamor of cracking gunfire, shouting soldiers, and screaming Skulls rent the air. No one questioned him as he found a spot looking over a gate draped in barbed wire. Blockades made from parked cars and salvaged materials were set up along the length of the bridge like some kind of Mad-Max-style maze.

The blockades were crude but effective. The defensive walls forced the churning Skulls through bottlenecks where they could be brought down by gunfire. Those that managed to trickle through fell at the hands of sharpshooters.

A trio of Goliaths bellowed. One of the behemoths swiped at a parked truck that had been reinforced with sheet metal and railroad spikes. The armored vehicle toppled over the side of the bridge. Another Goliath picked up two smaller Skulls and tossed the creatures at the main wall. One of the Skulls screamed as it flew through the air. Its body slammed against the wall, cracking and splitting. The second made it over.

A soldier next to Shepherd yelled into his radio, “One inside the gates. I repeat, one inside!”

Before he finished barking the warning, Shepherd watched four soldiers quickly subdue the thrown Skull with rapid gunfire.

“What do we do about the Goliaths?” Rory yelled.

“You mean those big fucks?” another soldier shouted. “Where you been? We got a procedure.”

As the Goliaths plowed through the smaller Skulls, another voice barked over the radio. “Open up on the thirty mils.”

The distinct whine of miniguns winding up caught Shepherd’s ears. Then he spotted the soldiers manning the guns at points along the wall. The minigun barrels spun, blurring. 30 mm rounds tore into the Goliaths. Each bullet bore through their armor, sending fragments of flesh and bone flying. The bullets staggered the giants, their bodies shuddering until they were beaten back. Soon the miniguns were chewing through their armor and ripping through muscle. One of the monster’s arms was torn clean off.

It wasn’t long before all three of the Goliaths fell. A victorious cry spread through the soldiers’ ranks. Shepherd, Rachel, and Rory couldn’t help but join in. This was how defenses against the Skulls were supposed to work. This was how they should’ve been cooperating all along—military, government, and civilians joining together to save what remained of the United States.

“We’ve got the all clear,” one lieutenant cried from atop a catwalk. “Cleaning crews, out!”

Soldiers scurried down the ladders to the bridge. Chains clanked as the gate was raised. Men and women rushed among the corpses. Gunfire rang out as the snipers finished a few Skulls still fighting against debilitating injuries. The bodies were loaded on waiting trucks.

“Still burning them, I bet,” Rachel said. “Good.”

“Yep,” a soldier near her said. He pointed at a cluster of trees near where the bridge reached the mainland. “Same spot every day. Can’t say I like the smell though. I mean, we’re shooting, moving, and burning these bastards two, three times a day now. Makes me think we should just blow the bridge.”

Another soldier chimed in, shaking her head. “You blow the bridge and you cut off land access. We can’t afford to keep flying supplies in.” She waved a hand at the island behind them. “Half the people here came in cars. Not enough boats to run supplies.”

“One of these days, the walls won’t hold. We’ll run out of ammo, or maybe we’ll face a horde of those giant fuckers. Then you’ll be wishing we blew the bridge.”

Shepherd stopped listening to their conversation. Although he was intrigued by the military’s strategies to defend these people, he couldn’t risk offering his own insight and experience from his time in Detrick. For now, he wanted to lie low and find the damn radio. “Rachel, got any clue where to search next?”

“No, not yet,” she said. Her eyes scanned the crowds of dispersing civilians and soldiers.

“Looking for someone?” he asked.

“No one in particular.” She stood on tiptoes. “But anyone I recognize, anyone I might be able to trust would be nice.”

Rory scanned the troops. “Hey, there’s Lee. Lee!”

A younger man in civilian clothes turned. His expression was grim until he saw them. “Rachel, Rory! I didn’t think you guys made it back! What happened?”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? What happened to you?”

“I mean, we were all taken,” Lee said. He summarized how the other midshipmen had been led to the waiting Hueys the same night Rachel and Rory had been abducted. They had all been questioned about the Hunters and their involvement with the Oni Agent until they were finally cleared and dropped back off at Kent Island. They’d been ordered to defend the stronghold with a special detachment of military units sent by General Kinsey. “I wasn’t exactly a fan of that prison, but at least those cell doors kept us safe when it was breached.”

Shepherd remembered the prison and the breach all too well. But they didn’t have time to swap survival stories.

“Yeah, Lee, that was pretty crazy,” Rachel said. “But now I need your help. Do you know what happened to my stuff?”

Lee’s head bobbed emphatically. “Sheriff Cowles kept all our things under his watch when we were taken. I think Maureen has it all now. She took your stuff when you didn’t come back with us.”

“She stole my kit?” Rachel asked, perplexed.

“No, no. More like she didn’t want it thrown out. We were all worried you two had died in the breach at that prison. But she didn’t think so. Kept saying you would come back.”

“Well, she was right,” Rory said. “Where is she?”

Lee led them through the barracks. “Maureen!” he called over the others milling between the cots, packs of supplies, and wall lockers. Their fellow midshipman turned and waved, and then her eyes bulged when she saw Rachel and Rory. She sprinted toward them and hugged Rachel.

Rachel embraced her friend but kept the reunion brief. “We’re kind of in a rush. Do you have my stuff somewhere?”

“Of course! I just knew you’d make it back.” Maureen opened her footlocker and moved aside a bundle of clothes. She took out a plastic bag and handed it to Rachel. “Everything is in here.”

Shepherd felt a twinge of sympathy for the plucky midshipman. All her remaining earthly belongings fit in a plastic shopping bag. He watched her dig through it until she found a small radio.

“Thank God,” she said. “Want me to hail the open comm channel, sir?”

Shepherd nodded. “That’d be best.”

She twisted a dial on the radio and held it near her mouth. Depressing the call button, she spoke slowly and clearly. “Hunters, this is Midshipman Rachel Kaufman from Kent Island. Do you read?”

***

Dom heard a voice over his comm link, but his focus was on the dead Goliath threatening to sink the catamaran. His thoughts and vision became tunneled as he struggled to come up with a solution.

Then it came to him.

He searched the bag Jenna had brought aboard and took out the drill. Snapping a battery pack into place, he squeezed the trigger on the drill and was rewarded with the loud whine of the motor and the rapid spinning of the foot-long bit. Dom approached the enormous claws still wrapped around the railing.

The claws were too massive to cut through in time. Instead, Dom drilled straight through the handrail. The weakened rail began to buckle. He moved past Miguel and Jenna and drilled two more holes on the other side of the Goliath’s claws. The metal groaned and screeched. Finally, the piece of rail in the Goliath’s claws ripped completely away from the boat. No longer held back by the creature’s weight, the bow slapped into the water and kicked up a small wave.

They were free.

They left a frothy wake and a sinking Goliath behind. With a grimace, Glenn steered the boat to the middle of the river where the Zodiac waited. As they neared it, more voices came through the comm link.

“Good to hear you’re all safe,” Renee was saying. “What’s the emergency?”

A familiar voice said, “We saw the Huntress. It’s surrounded by what looks like half the Coast Guard.”

“Midshipman Kaufman,” Dom said. “Is that you? You’ve got a sitrep on the Huntress?”

“I do,” Kaufman said. “But I think it’s better if you talk to Commander Shepherd.”

How had those two managed to find each other? Dom’s curiosity was piqued, but he’d hold his questions for later.

“Shepherd here. Captain Holland, happy to hear from you.”

“You too,” Dom said. “Tell me about the Huntress.”

“There were three Coast Guard cutters alongside her. She’s currently at anchor a klick south of Annapolis.”

“Good. That’s where we left her.”

“We saw a chopper flying from one cutter back to the mainland. We couldn’t get closer to learn more than that.”

Dom nodded, mulling over the new information. It would make his plan easier. “That’s all very good, Commander. I appreciate it.” He chinned the comm link channel to private. “Renee, Glenn, get these boats moving to Annapolis.” Once the order was given, he reopened the channel with Shepherd. “Commander, I plan to retake my ship. I’m afraid General Kinsey thinks Meredith and I are involved on the wrong side of this Oni Agent business. We’re going to need to hightail it out of the bay and disappear as fast as we can.”

“You’re more right than you know,” Shepherd said. He summarized his own capture and brutal interrogation. Dom was aghast at the lengths to which Kinsey had gone, but according to Shepherd, Kinsey hadn’t been acting alone. Meredith’s old CIA supervisor, David Lawson, was running the show now. That brought up more questions than it answered, and Dom knew he and Meredith would have their hands full in their attempt to figure out what game Lawson was playing. “No matter what the brass says, I don’t believe for a minute that you’re behind this mess, Captain Holland.”

“I appreciate your support. Our only involvement has been to help put a stop to it. And when we succeed, we want to make sure the right people pay for what they’ve done. What’s next for you—and can we help?”

“Captain Holland, you keep doing what you’re doing. I plan on returning to Fort Detrick. That’s where my command is, and I’ll find a way back whether it’s with Kinsey’s support or not. The midshipmen will be staying at Kent. Despite what he said, General Kinsey sent reinforcements to finish what the civilians and midshipmen started here.”

“Interesting. Anything else?”

“No, Captain. Godspeed and good luck.”

The call ended. Dom felt hopeful for the future of Kent Island, at least. He was less certain that Shepherd could—or should—attempt to retake his command at Detrick. Meanwhile, Dom and the Hunters still had the immense task of retaking their ship. The catamaran plowed through the water beside the Zodiac. A few hours of daylight remained, and they would need every minute of it to get near Annapolis and prepare for what lay ahead.

First things first. “Renee, you got a medic pack handy?”

“Sure do, Captain,” she said, rummaging through the packs on the Zodiac.

He moved portside, reaching an arm out toward the Zodiac. Renee leaned over the gunwale with the first aid pack in her hand. He took it and nodded a thank you. After unzipping it, he took out a nanofiber coagulant spray. It would help stop the bleeding in Glenn’s arm and hold the skin together for a few hours, but it was no replacement for sutures. He was banking on recovering the Huntress before the fibers failed so that Glenn could be treated by the real medical team. Miguel took over piloting the catamaran, and Jenna helped Glenn peel away the bandages while Dom applied the spray. They placed a new dressing over the temporarily closed wounds as the catamaran bounced over the waves.

They traveled along the ever-widening Potomac until they reached the bay. Sailing north, Dom kept his binos trained ahead. Shapes soon broke over the horizon. In the midst of a loose circle of white ships was the gleaming gray hull of his Huntress. He signaled the Hunters to make landfall. Andris steered the Zodiac to shore, and Miguel beached the catamaran beside it.

Once Miguel turned off the gurgling motor, the woods around them seemed eerily silent. Dom shouldered his rifle and gestured for the others to do the same. He waited, wondering whether they’d be casting off again in a hurry. After a few moments, he picked up the sound of birdsong and the chirp of insects—but no telltale sign of the Skulls.

The group transferred the dive supplies onto the shore. Dom directed the operation as each able-bodied hunter suited up. He secured the Hunters’ gauges to their tanks and checked the air pressure in each. With Glenn out of commission, they had just enough tanks to go around. The Hunters formed a semicircle, and Dom briefed them again. They’d been over the plan, but he wanted to ensure every detail was clear. Even a minor screw-up could lead to their capture—or worse.

Dom spent the last minutes before the mission with his daughters, sitting quietly beside them as they ate a couple of MREs. He muttered a silent prayer of thanks to Adam for giving his life to save the girls. Maybe if there was an afterlife, he’d find Adam there and buy him a drink.

But not today. Today he was going to get his ship back.

The others checked over their equipment, the explosives, and the nonlethals they’d gathered. Dom chuckled to himself as he realized he owed them all a couple of drinks, too. On every mission these men and women faced seemingly insurmountable odds. They each were prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice. Adam had been one of the unlucky ones who’d actually had to pay that price, but he suspected that more of them would be lost in the war to eradicate the Oni Agent. A shudder ran down Dom’s spine, and he hoped the others didn’t see it.

A hand touched his arm gently. “You okay?” Meredith asked in a low voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dom said. Then he sagged and let himself lean against her. “Who am I kidding? Of course I’m not okay. I almost lost my daughters again. And Adam’s gone. We’re about to toss a Hail Mary of a mission to recover the ship that might be our only chance to survive in this twisted world.”

“It’s pretty fucked up,” Meredith said, her voice dry.

“It’s pretty fucked up,” Dom agreed. Somehow acknowledging that simple truth helped keep the smoldering remains of hope alive in him.

Meredith strapped a pair of knockout gas canisters to her utility belt. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “But it’ll just be like old times. You and me, sneaking into a target overrun by hostile military. Makes you nostalgic, doesn’t it?”

“Nostalgia isn’t the quite the word I’d use to describe the feeling of infiltrating my own ship.” He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “But if that’s the word that works for you, let’s get nostalgic.”

The last dying light of the setting sun disappeared behind the westward trees. Clouds were rolling in, blotting out the stars. Dom could smell the rain before it began to fall in heavy sheets. He wasn’t sure if the storm was a good omen or bad.

Either way, it was time to get started.

The group abandoned the catamaran in favor of the Zodiac. The craft was built for stealth, and stealth was what they needed.

Meredith twisted her red hair into a bun, squeezing the water out of it in a futile gesture. “You know why they say you shouldn’t go diving in the rain, don’t you?”

A wry grin crossed Dom’s face as water streamed over his brow and nose. “You’ll get wet.”

Renee was crouched next to them, adjusting one of her fins. She rolled her eyes. “Pretty sure I heard that joke before.”

Glenn slowed the Zodiac as they approached the Huntress and the cutters. He kept a small island between themselves and the ships. Once Dom judged they were close enough, he pulled his mask over his face.

“I love you girls,” he said to Kara and Sadie. He looked at Meredith and surprised himself by saying, “You, too.” Then he placed his regulator in his mouth and rolled into the murky river.

-33-

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Meredith followed Dom into the darkness of the roiling water. They’d talked about diving in the Florida Keys or even the Maldives. Yet it always seemed every time they’d dived together over the years, it was in dark waters like this for some mission or training exercise. Never just for the fun of it. They deserved a damned vacation. All of them. She vowed that after this was all over, she’d take a trip with him and the girls. Maybe they’d dive the Great Barrier Reef together. She’d always wanted to do that.

Meredith tried to keep an eye on him, but visibility was terrible in the murky depths. Instead, she relied on her smartwatch, synced up with the other Hunters, to tell her the location of the ships and her fellow divers. She pumped her legs, trying to gain speed with her fins, but fighting the current was like trying to push over a Goliath.

She had almost forty minutes to contemplate the mission ahead—and the fact that Dom had said he loved her. They’d hardly talked about their feelings, either as partners or now, at last, as lovers. She’d been taken off guard, and before she could respond, Dom had dropped into the water. She smiled behind her mask. Typical man.

At last, her smartwatch beeped a signal to her comm link. With another kick, the ghostly gray image of the Huntress’s stern appeared floating in the water before her. Clicks over her comm link told her the other Hunters had found their targets as well. She surfaced slowly. Rain pelted her. Dom came up next and removed the regulator from his mouth.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded. “Aye aye, Captain.”

He grabbed the rungs of a ladder built into the hull. Hand over hand, he climbed with Meredith following closely. Her fingers slipped on a rung. She caught herself but began to climb slower. No mistakes. Once they were safely above the waves, they removed their fins and secured them to their packs. They continued the awkward climb with their gear and SCUBA tanks draped over their backs.

Dom stopped before the ladder reached the deck. He used two fingers to point to his eyes and then pointed over the gunwale. Then he held up three fingers.

Shit, Meredith thought. Three people above deck, even in a downpour like this. It didn’t bode well for how tight security must be on the ship. And with the two of them burdened by their gear, it wouldn’t be easy to bring down three guards.

She undid a water-resistant pouch in her pack and slipped out a Taser. Dom did likewise. She squeezed next to him on the ladder so she could get a view of the guards. They were pacing around the helipad. A Huey sat where Frank’s AW109 was supposed to be. Meredith felt a twinge of guilt that they’d heard nothing from the pilot. She had no idea where he might be or if he was even alive. She missed his corny jokes.

Two of the guards stopped and began a brief conversation. She pointed at them, claiming them for herself. Dom nodded and then sliced the air with a chopping motion.

They sprang from the ladder. Their bare feet padded over the wet deck, and Meredith did her best to prevent the tank on her back from clanging against the loose dive gauges and the regulator. The rain masked what little noise they did make.

She heard a whoomph as Dom slammed into his target and subdued the man. She pounced on one of the guards and wrapped her arm around his neck. He tried to yell, but she’d already clamped down on his airway. With her other hand, she aimed the Taser and fired at the other guard. He went down convulsing.

The guard in her grip dropped his weapon and clawed at her, trying to break free. He threw himself backward, and she slammed against the Huey. Her dive tank knocked against the back of her head, and pain coursed through her skull.

But she didn’t let go. The man’s struggling became weaker. Slowly, he slipped into the realm of unconsciousness. As soon as he had, Meredith zip-tied his wrists together. She bounded to the other man, who was fighting his Taser-induced stupor.

She unslung her rifle and clocked him in the temple with its stock.

“Sorry,” she said as he sprawled over the deck.

They dragged the three knocked-out guards next to the Huey and duct-taped their mouths. After shedding their dive gear, Dom grabbed a rope from his pack, and Meredith took out the bulky drill and heavy bit from hers. She quickly looped the rope through her utility belt and clipped it in place with a carabineer.

“Now for the real show,” Dom said. “You got this?”

“You bet I do.”

He helped her over the gunwale and belayed her as she rappelled down the portside hull. She peered at the schematics of the Huntress on her smartwatch. Once she gauged she was just outside the main HVAC ducts, she unstrapped the drill from her belt. She spread her feet out and used her boots to hold herself in place. The drill turned on with a quick trigger squeeze, and she aimed at a spot in the middle of a hull plate.

The bit screeched as it chewed through the metal. Meredith cringed. The downpour wouldn’t be enough to drown these noises out. Speed and surprise were the only advantages they had. Seconds seemed like minutes as the drill whined. Finally, the drill punched through. She’d breached the hull.

“I’m in,” she said over the comm link.

“Good, now—” Dom stopped. The rope holding her went slack, and she plummeted toward the water. Then the rope became taut again, and the utility belt bit into her waist. She lost her grip on the drill. It plunged into the bay as she swung from the side of the ship.

“Dom?” she asked. She could hear the sounds of heavy breathing and grunting over the comm link. The thud of something hitting metal rang out above her.

She tried grabbing the rope and climbing. The rain ruined her grip, and she slid back down, swinging above the waves. Next, she tried wrapping the rope around her hand, over and over. She made slow progress, though adrenaline churned her onward. Dom was in trouble.

Another loud yell echoed from above, piercing the pounding of the rain. She climbed faster, winding the rope around herself more and more. It squeezed painfully, but she had no choice. Before she reached the gunwale, she paused near the hole she’d drilled. She needed to finish this job before more guards arrived. She plugged in a canister of the knockout gas, pulled the pin, and let it spray into the ducts. She didn’t know how long it would take for the gas to permeate the ship, but she wasn’t going to wait down here to find out.

Once at deck level, she leapt over the gunwale. Two men were on either side of Dom, pinning his arms. One reached for a radio. Meredith sprinted and tackled him. The radio clattered across the deck. Dom swung a fist at the other guard’s surprised face.

Meredith rolled to the deck as her target regained his balance. He had strength on his side and grabbed both her wrists, bearing her down. She tried to kick, but he twisted her arms painfully back and dodged easily. She wouldn’t win in a battle of brawn against this man.

Rolling to her left, she used the guard’s force against him. Unprepared for the maneuver, he slammed into the deck. His grip loosened enough for her to free one hand, and she leapt onto his back. She wrapped her hand around his neck. Each time he tried to stand, she delivered a powerful kick to knock his legs out from under him. The man lashed against her grip, flailing and shaking like a bronco. But she countered every move he made until he collapsed into unconsciousness. Once she zip-tied the man’s wrists, she turned to help Dom.

But her stomach twisted into a painful knot. A knife was sticking out of Dom’s right shoulder, buried up to the hilt. The guard backed away with his pistol aimed straight at Dom’s face. He put just enough distance between himself and the Hunter that Meredith knew Dom couldn’t easily disarm him, but the guard stood little chance of missing an assuredly fatal shot.

“Both of you stay completely fucking still,” the guard said, spitting blood. “We’ve been waiting for you fuckers.” He reached slowly to the radio at his side and then spoke into it. “Becker here. Got a couple of wannabe spies on deck. Need backup.”

***

A gray haze filled the medical bay. Lauren watched it spill from the air ducts. She recalled Peter’s brief warning about the masks and realized what must be happening. Knockout gas in the vents. The guards in the med bay looked around in confusion and then passed out. Loud clangs and thumps echoed through the bulkhead from the upper deck. In the isolation ward, with their separate air supply and filtration systems, they were safe. She used the scalpel blade Peter had given her to saw away at her plastic ties.

“What the hell is that?” Terrence asked, transfixed by the tendrils of smoke.

“I think Dom made it back to the ship.” Lauren finished cutting through the plastic cuffs. With her hands free, she hopped out of bed. The movement sent a wave of pain through her head. She glanced at the empty beds of Ivan and Scott. Their bodies were gone, taken away by the guards at last, but the bloodstains remained. She went to a cabinet by Scott’s old bed and retrieved a pair of surgical scissors. The tool made slicing through Terrence’s plastic cuffs easier.

“What now?” he asked.

“We need oxygen masks.” She entered the decon chamber. From a sealed drawer, she took out a couple of backup oxygen masks. “For the biohazard suits,” she explained. She gave one to Terrence and placed the other over her mouth and nose. Terrence did the same, and Lauren opened the outer door. She took a deep breath through the mask as the haze enveloped her. Her heartbeat quickened when she looked over Thomas and the other patients in the med bay. She hoped the knockout gas didn’t interfere with their recovery, but she didn’t have time to check on them.

“We should disarm the guards,” Terrence said.

They removed the guards’ holsters. Lauren snagged one of their submachine guns, and Terrence took another for himself. There was no way they could carry all the weapons, so they locked the rest in a supply closet. An unconscious guard’s radio started squawking.

“Becker here. Got a couple of wannabe spies on deck. Need backup.”

Lauren looked at Terrence, a deep pit forming in her stomach. Wordlessly, they ran through the hatch. The passageways were all filled with gray fog. Guards were passed out, lying against the bulkheads. Lauren ignored them and leapt for the ladders to the upper deck.

Once they reached the hatch leading to the helipad, Terrence took the lead. He waited a beat at the hatch before pushing it open. Lauren wielded the submachine gun clumsily as they burst outside. Torrents of rain fell over the deck in unrelenting sheets. She made out a figure standing on one side of the helipad. Across from her, a guard had a pistol leveled at another Hunter. The visibility was too poor to see who it was.

The guard spun when he heard the hatch clang against the bulkhead. Terrence brought his gun to bear. The guard’s surprised expression morphed into one of anger, and Lauren could see him turning back to take the shot.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion.

Lauren gasped.

A gunshot rang out across the deck.

Then a second, a third, and finally a fourth.

The guard lay on the deck, clutching wounds in his leg and arm. He wasn’t dead; Terrence had expertly disabled the man. But not before the guard had gotten off two shots of his own.

Lauren ran to Dom. The Hunter was sprawled in the pouring rain, grasping his chest. Blood seeped out from a gash in his right shoulder.

He wheezed. “I’m okay,” he managed. “Body armor. Check Meredith.”

Lauren ran to the other figure by the helipad. Even in the rain, there was no mistaking the blood covering the side of Meredith’s head.

-34-

––––––––

Dom rushed to Meredith. His pulse thudded in his eardrums like the heavy beat of helicopter blades. He knelt and undid her helmet. As he cradled her head, blood seeped around his fingers. Rainwater washed it away as quickly as it flowed.

“No, please,” he said. He tried to find the source of the blood, but the light was bad and there was blood everywhere.

“Let me see,” she said. She pulled Meredith’s hair away and pressed two fingers to her throat. “She’s got a pulse, at least.”

Terrence watched over them with his submachine gun. Gray haze drifted from the open hatch. That was enough to shake Dom into action.

“Terrence, take one of these,” Dom said, unclipping another gas canister from Meredith’s belt. “Toss it inside. We need to keep everyone knocked out.”

Terrence followed his orders and closed the hatch, but Dom’s attention was already back on the woman lying in his arms.

Dom brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Come on, Meredith. Don’t leave me. Who’s gonna tell me when I’m being a macho idiot?”

“Captain, I need room to work,” Lauren said.

Dom nodded and made himself back away. The doctor had her task, and he had his. There were still divers in the water waiting for instructions. “Dive parties, this is Dom. Are the charges set?”

He waited and counted the clicks through his comm link. Each one signified a successfully placed explosive. After he heard all three clicks—one for each Coast Guard cutter—he spoke again. “Good job. Upper deck is clear of hostiles. Huntress is sleeping. Get your asses up here.”

He looked down. Lauren’s hands were covered in Meredith’s blood.

“Goddamnit,” Dom said. He wanted to stay with Meredith.

Lauren looked up at him. “She’s still alive, but I need to get her indoors.”

“I know,” Dom said. “And she’s a hell of a fighter. She’ll pull through.” He donned his gas mask as Lauren placed one over Meredith’s face. He spoke over the comm link. “Hunters, listen up. We’ve got a casualty. Meredith is down, so first stop for us is the med bay. I need all available oxygen and gas masks for the essential crew. Terrence, you’ll help me wake the engineers. For all of you still underwater, as soon as you board, help secure the guards. Grab any electronics off them. Radios, cellphones, computers they brought aboard, absolutely anything Samantha and Chao might be able to hack. Then load the guards on a lifeboat and prepare to toss it overboard.”

Terrence and Lauren nodded. A few Hunters, already climbing out of the water, voiced their affirmatives through the comm link. He heard the click of others who were still underwater and headed for the ship. After putting on his gas mask, Dom picked up Meredith. Hot pain lanced through his injured shoulder, but he ignored it as he carried her to the med bay. Once there, he lowered Meredith onto a bed. Terrence took a handful of oxygen masks and disappeared into the passageway. Lauren started tending to Meredith, and Dom placed masks on the other members of the medical team. As they began to breathe clean air, they slowly woke. Peter held a hand over his head like he was recovering from an intense hangover.

“Good to see you, Captain,” he said. A wide grin slowly spread across his face until he saw Lauren working in the patient ward. “Oh, no. Casualty?”

Dom nodded grimly. The surgeon rose and hurried to join Lauren. Sean and Divya quickly followed. With the medical team roused and gathered around Meredith, there was nothing more Dom could do here. He rushed into the passageway. Lights shone from the electronics workshop, and Dom heard Terrence speaking with Samantha and Chao.

Terrence came back to the passageway. “They’re reenabling all the computer systems now. Should be ready to move in fifteen.”

“Good,” Dom said. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Brig,” Terrence said tersely.

They hurried down the ladders and past more slumbering guards. Dom punched in a code on the electronic release to open the brig doors. Nothing happened. He chinned the comm link channel to the electronics workshop. “You two awake? I need brig access.”

A drowsy voice answered. “Getting there,” Samantha said. She hummed tunelessly to herself as she worked and then said, “Okay, it’s done.”

The brig doors opened. Dom searched the sleeping bodies for one man in particular. He secured a mask over the wind-beaten face of his Officer of the Watch, Cliff Slaton, and gently shook him awake.

“Hey, Cliff,” Dom said. “Want to pilot this old boat again?”

The man slowly nodded his head, and Dom helped him to his feet. As Cliff recovered from the knockout gas, Dom assisted him to the pilothouse. Several soldiers and navy officers were passed out along the deck. Terrence joined them moments later. The work of rousing his fellow crew members and securing the guards had taken its toll on his healing body. His burn wounds had opened again, and red stains blossomed on the bandages covering his shoulders.

“All Hunters are back on board,” Renee reported through the comm link.

“Very good,” Dom said. “Report in when all decks are clear.” He turned to Cliff. “Warm the ship up.”

The engines hummed to life. Their gentle vibrations resonated through the bulkhead with a soft purr. Gray gas still plumed through the pilothouse as Cliff worked to bring everything back online, moving between various panels and gauges. Dom helped Terrence secure the guards and place them in a corner.

“All secured on the lower decks,” Miguel said.

“Upper decks secure,” Renee reported.

Andris and Jenna burst into the pilothouse. “Need these guys taken care of?” Andris asked, indicating the guards. “Perhaps I can find a hungry shark.”

“Take them to the lifeboat,” Dom ordered.

The duo nodded, and each of them slung a guard over their shoulder as they left, leaving a trail of sopping-wet footprints. Terrence helped them bring the unconscious men down the ladders. Another set of slow, uneven footsteps soon clanged over the deck.

Thomas, gas mask in place, limped up. “Trying to sail without me?”

“Did Lauren clear you to be up here?” Dom said, eyeing the bandages over the man’s shoulder.

“I can make do,” Thomas said with a wry grin. “Where do you need me?”

“If you’re up for it,” Dom said, “then weapons.”

Thomas’s eyes went wide. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

“Lifeboat’s loaded up,” Renee called.

“Computers are back online,” Samantha’s voice chimed in over the comm link.

“Boys?” Dom asked, looking around the pilothouse. Cliff and Thomas gave him firm nods. “This part’s going to be tricky, so I need everyone on full alert. We’ve still got a Zodiac out there with Glenn, Spencer, Navid, Kara, and Sadie. Oh, and a waterlogged golden retriever. They’ll be about one klick south of here. We have to lose the cutters first before we pick up the Zodiac.”

The Hunters voices rang out in a single chorus of aye ayes. He imagined each of them in position, ready to carry out their orders. “Cliff, half astern.”

The Huntress started to churn up water, reversing away from the three cutters. She picked up speed, putting a healthy distance between them and the Coast Guard. A cutter shone a spotlight on the pilothouse.

“Huntress, USCGC Harriet Lane, no embarkation orders have been received. Can you clarify?”

Dom signaled Cliff not to respond. Again the smaller ship hailed them, and again they ignored it.

“Huntress, do you copy? Standing orders are to stay here.” There were twenty seconds of silence. When the operator spoke again, there was a steely note of suspicion in his voice. “Huntress, put that ship in full stop immediately. You are asked to identify yourselves, or we will pursue.”

Dom had expected the response. “Glenn, are you ready with the Zodiac?”

“We’re in position, Captain,” Glenn said.

As the ship continued its reverse thrust, Dom flipped on several monitors near the chart table. Each showed a different camera view. He saw the helipad, the medical bay, the brig, the workshop, various passageways, and the cargo bay. He tore his gaze away from the med bay—he couldn’t see Meredith clearly anyway—and focused on the cargo bay.

“Open bay doors,” Dom said. The doors slid open, and the red glow of the battle lights washed over a lifeboat. “Drop our cargo.” Jenna shot the camera a thumbs up and pulled a lever. The lifeboat slipped out, splashing and bucking into the water, then righted itself, bobbing in the waves.

“Ready the lifts for the Zodiac.”

The outboard camera’s view appeared dark until Dom flipped it to night vision. The green and black bay lit up. A small pinprick of light shone over the waves—the infrared signal that marked the Zodiac. He ordered them to lower the lifts. The cords shook and rattled as they were lowered past the cargo bay’s opening.

“Huntress, we have been authorized to use force if necessary,” the operator’s voice called over the comms.

Dom signaled Thomas and Cliff to ignore the warning for now. They needed to outrun the Coast Guard vessels, not engage them.

“Captain,” Thomas said. “One of the cutters is starting to pursue. The other two appear to be in full ready. No, scratch that, all three are now in pursuit.”

“Understood,” Dom said, pacing the pilothouse deck. He watched the cams as Glenn raced the Zodiac toward the Huntress. Kara, Sadie, and Navid huddled near the gunwale. Each was wearing a life vest. Spencer sat next to them, his jaw clenched as the bandages along his neck flapped in the wind. Maggie hunkered down next to the hulking man as if she could sense his pain. “Ready, Glenn? Take care of my girls.”

“You got it, Captain.”

Dom didn’t envy the fine balancing act of avoiding the waves splashing off the ship’s bow while staying close to the ship, but Glenn was an expert. The ropes swung dangerously with their carabiner clips clanging against the Huntress’s hull.

“Cutters are gaining,” Thomas said.

Dom sensed Cliff waiting to get the orders for full astern. But he couldn’t risk going any faster until the Zodiac was on board. He wringed his hands together as Kara and Navid clipped the carabiners into place.

“Bring us in,” Glenn said. The Zodiac jolted up. Navid fell back into the craft, and Sadie crashed sideways. She bounced against the gunwale, and Dom saw her slowly slipping overboard. He balled his fists, desperate to be down there to help them. Instead, Kara leapt into action. She threw her arms around her sister’s abdomen just as the smaller girl tipped over. She dragged Sadie into the Zodiac with Navid and Spencer’s help as the boat climbed into the cargo bay. It was drawn inside, and the doors shut. Dom breathed a sigh of relief.

“Full astern!” he bellowed.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Cliff said, grinning as he pulled back on the direct control throttle. The ship lurched, moving faster. But they still needed time to turn her around, and there would be no way to outpace the cutters even at full astern. The ship wasn’t built to move fast in reverse.

He’d planned for a maneuver like this, but it was the riskiest move yet. He gave Andris the order to detonate the explosives they’d planted earlier. Enormous blasts sounded over the bay. Water sprayed up in a geyser around the stern of two of the ships. They continued to drift forward, but Dom saw they were already slowing. Their propellers had been disabled by the charges.

But one cutter was still churning ahead.

“Damn. What’s going on, Andris?” Dom asked.

“Must have been a dud,” he replied. “Sorry, Captain, but there is nothing I can do from here.”

Dom closed his eyes. This was the order he had been dreading to give. “Thomas, fire a warning shot.”

Thomas nodded and activated the Huntress’s 57mm cannon. The gun shook, and smoke billowed from its barrel. A round whistled over the cutter’s bow.

“Come on,” Dom said. “Stop, you bastards.”

But she didn’t let up. The cutter barreled ahead, closing the distance between the two ships. A flash of light exploded from the cutter’s own MK 75 76mm cannon.

“Brace for impact,” Dom said. But the round plunged into the waves near the Huntress, sending a jet of water across her bow. They too had fired a warning shot, and Dom knew they would only have one chance at this.

“Huntress, full stop now!” a voice from the cutter boomed over the comms.

“Cease pursuit immediately,” Dom called back, “or we’ll be forced to fire. And this time it won’t be a warning shot.”

The cutter continued its pursuit. “Huntress, you’ve opened fire on a United States Coast Guard vessel. You are committing treason. Full stop now, before you make this worse for yourself and your crew.”

Dom ignored the threat.

“What now, Captain?” Thomas asked.

“I want to minimize casualties,” Dom said. “But we still need to get out of here.” So far, Dom thought they’d managed the escape without unnecessarily killing any of the servicemen who had been ordered to stop them. He wanted to keep it that way.

“Disable their cannons,” he ordered.

Thomas aimed the 57mm and prepared to take a shot. “I’ve got a firing solution.”

“Fire!” Dom said.

But the cutter was faster, anticipating their move. Three successive flashes exploded from her guns. Smoke plumed as fire and debris billowed up. The 57mm was now a crumpled mess. Alarms rang out in the pilothouse, and Dom saw the crew, still wearing gas masks, racing about the passageways through his monitors.

His mind raced as the Coast Guard’s 76mm recoiled again. Rounds crashed across the Huntress’s hull. One pierced the cargo bay door, and something exploded within the hold.

Were Kara and Sadie still down there? He couldn’t see them on the monitors, which was rapidly filling with smoke.

“Engineers, fire in cargo,” he barked. They had no time to prepare the torpedoes, and their surface-to-air guided missiles would be problematic, if not impossible, to maneuver at this close range. He had one option left. “Thomas, arm the 127s.”

Thomas’s fingers danced across the weapons command module. Panels opened along the bow. Two stubby tubes poked out of the openings.

“Evasive maneuvers, Cliff,” Dom said. He knew it was a difficult order. There wasn’t much he could do, racing backward from an enemy that was minutes from overtaking them.

“127s armed,” Thomas called.

“Launch!” Dom said.

Thomas pressed a key to fire the first of the grenade launchers. Nothing happened. “Misfire, Captain. Misfire!”

“Launch, damn it!” Dom said. A rocket-propelled grenade whooshed from the second tube, a smoke trail giving away its route. The cutter moved just enough for the grenade to explode against the ship’s reinforced prow, missing the cannon completely. Dom pounded his fist on the console. “Again!”

Another grenade launched. It never even reached the other vessel. The cutter’s anti-missile Gatling guns spun up in time to take out the RPG. The 76mm cannon lit up again, followed by a booming fury that rocked the Huntress. Dom grabbed a rail along the bulkhead to prevent himself from falling.

“Captain?” Thomas asked.

The Huntress had plenty of small arms in addition to the ship’s armaments, but nothing that would slow the cutter. And one half-functional grenade launcher wasn’t going to stop the ship. There had to be a way out of this mess, but Dom couldn’t see it. Unless...

“Thomas, how low can you aim the AA missile? Low enough to trick the anti-missile Gatling?”

“Maybe,” Thomas said. “Let me see.”

Another salvo from the MK 75 exploded against the Huntress’s hull. More alarms. More yells over the comm link.

“Lowest possible trajectory. Launch two missiles, followed by as many grenades as you can,” Dom ordered.

Thomas keyed up the missile launch sequence. They launched, one after another, in a pillar of climbing smoke. They started slow, then accelerated. There would be no way they could correct in time to hit the MK 75, but Dom watched, holding his breath, as the anti-missile Gatling adjusted to fire on them. As soon as the guns focused on the missiles, the grenade launcher lobbed a series of rocket-propelled grenades.

Thomas leaned back in his chair, mopping his forehead. “Magazine is empty, Captain.”

“Engineers, reload,” Dom called. But even if they rearmed the clips in time, Dom feared it wouldn’t be enough. He judged it would be less than a minute before the MK 75 tore into their hull and ended their escape efforts for good.

The Gatling brought down the first missile. It exploded in a cloud of fire that made the waves glow vibrant orange and bleeding red. The Gatling’s sawblade-like whine continued as it spewed rounds at the second AA missile. That one made it closer, exploding only a hundred meters out from the cutter. Dom’s nerves screamed as he watched the smoke trails of the slower RPGs.

The first almost hit the cutter, but it too became nothing more than shrapnel and smoke under the scourge of the Gatling gun.

But the remaining five grenades made it. One slammed into the hull, and another tore into the upper deck. The third pounded the MK 75, silencing the weapon. The other two hit just below the cutter’s pilothouse.

The cutter’s weapons were disabled.

“Cliff, full stop and then alter heading to sixteen points,” Dom ordered.

Cliff put the ship in a slow one-hundred-eighty-degree turn. Dom wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. His knuckles were still white from clenching his hands into fists.

Still, he grinned fiercely as he gave his next order. “Full speed ahead.”

-35-

––––––––

The ship’s engines whined. Red lights flashed in concert with the wailing alarms. But they were moving forward, cutting through the bay and headed to the Atlantic.

But they weren’t alone. The cutter, despite its disabled weaponry, still churned after them. The ship might not a pose a physical threat against the Huntress now, but Dom couldn’t let it keep a visual lock on the Huntress. Reinforcements would arrive soon enough, and there was no way the crippled Huntress would survive another sea battle.

The cutter closed in. Smoke wafted from beneath its pilothouse and from the damaged MK 75 cannon. Part of the hull was crumpled, but the ship seemed to be in better shape than the Huntress. Dom tried to tune out the Klaxons and flashing lights. Through the ship’s monitors, he watched his crew run to put out a fire in the cargo bay. Others rushed to the medical bay with the injured. The knockout gas had been filtered from the passageways, but smoke had replaced it.

He couldn’t let the cutter track them, but causing undue casualties aboard the ship wasn’t acceptable either. Firing on it would only incriminate them further in General Kinsey’s eyes. More importantly, he refused to kill the Coast Guard officers who were, after all, only following orders. He weighed his options and didn’t like any of them. Ultimately, he knew what he had to do. There was only one path that would allow them to continue their mission and stop the Oni Agent.

“Ready the torpedoes,” Dom said.

Thomas hesitated only for a moment before tapping the button to prepare the German-made DM2A4 torpedoes for launch. “Ready when you are, Captain.”

“Wait,” Dom said. “I want you to intentionally miss.”

“Another warning shot?”

“No,” Dom said. “Have the torpedoes circle and target the stern. Detonate at approach. Remember, disable the ship but don’t kill it. We want to minimize casualties.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Thomas said, entering in the targeting trajectory.

“Fire.”

The two torpedoes launched. A thin fiber optic cable dragged behind each, providing the guidance system feedback to Thomas. He adjusted their trajectory on the fly. The cutter dumped a cylindrical Nixie torpedo decoy to replicate their ship’s signal. The Nixie plopped into the water, towed by its own fiber-optic cable. But the countermeasure wouldn’t work. The DM2A4 was the cutting edge in torpedo technology.

“Torpedoes are clearing the cutter at one hundred meters,” Thomas said. He waited a beat. “Clear. Retargeting.”

“Slow torpedo two to ten knots. Keep her as backup.”

“Aye, aye,” Thomas said. His fingers danced over the weapon controls. “Torpedo one on the approach. Within three hundred meters. Two hundred meters. One hundred meters.”

Dom watched the torpedo’s reported location on a radar with GPS overlay. “Detonate,” he said.

A pillar of water exploded from the bay’s surface. It rained down over the cutter, but the ship continued its pursuit. They hadn’t detonated it close enough.

“Shit,” Dom said.

“It’d be easier to score a direct impact,” Thomas said. “That would definitely disable the ship.”

“I know,” Dom said. They’d also guarantee the deaths of men and women dutifully serving the United States Coast Guard. “Torpedo 2, forty knots.”

“Keel?”

“No, same plan as before.”

Thomas raised a skeptical eyebrow but concentrated on the weapons module. He studied the data and feedback coursing over the multiple screens in front of him and relayed the torpedo’s position as it closed in on the target.

“Slow her down to match the cutter’s speed.”

Thomas pulled back on a small joystick, and the torpedo slowed.

“Now inch up on it.” Dom narrowed his eyes, held his breath, and waited for a handful of heartbeats. “Now!”

Water bloomed once more. A violent boom echoed over the waves.

The cutter continued on, undeterred.

Dom cursed and slammed his palm against the bulkhead. Everything they’d done to get the Huntress back, to save his crew, and to carry on with their search for a cure would end now with the Coast Guard tracking their crippled ship. All his careful planning was worthless now. This was it. It was over. Kinsey’s people had bested him.

He’d failed.

Then a second explosion sounded over the water. This time, he heard the screech of metal.

“What in the hell?” Thomas asked. “I didn’t do that.”

“Those were the charges that were supposed to go off in the first place,” Dom said, relief trickling through him. The torpedoes might not have crippled the propellers themselves, but the explosion had been enough to set off the C4 the SCUBA-diving Hunters had planted. The cutter began to slow down. It was carried solely by momentum now. “Cliff, can we get those engines working any harder?”

Cliff glanced at the gauges and computer screens glowing in front of him. “Maybe, Captain. But with the damage from that cutter, we risk losing propulsion if the compressor blows.”

“Only if the compressor’s damaged.”

“Exactly. It might get us out to the open sea, but....”

“Out to sea and stranded is no better than stranded here. Either way, she’ll be our iron coffin unless she’s seaworthy.”

“Aye, sir,” Cliff said, nodding.

“Might as well find out now. Give her everything we’ve got.”

Cliff clenched his jaw as he pushed the throttle forward and entered the engine order to full ahead at max RPM. Dom curled his fingers around the rail at the edge of the pilothouse and stared at the ocean opening up before them. The engine roared. It was no longer the stealthy, barely perceptible hum it once was. Damage to the Huntress had compromised its sound-dampening hull. But she was working, and that was all that mattered.

“Captain, we have a problem,” Chao called over the comm link. Dom inhaled sharply, prepared for another surprise blow in this ocean-going chess game. “Don’t know if you’re seeing this on your screens, but we just got line of sight on a UAV.”

“That all?” Dom asked. After what they’d just been through, an unmanned aerial vehicle would be a piece of cake.

“For now.”

“Thomas, you know what to do.”

His second-in-command armed an anti-aircraft missile. Smoke plumed over the deck as the missile launched. It moved slowly at first and then accelerated until it was nothing more than a wink in the dark clouds rolling in the night sky. A burst of fire followed.

“Nice shot,” Chao said unnecessarily as red and gold sparks fell from the clouds. “It’s down.”

The fireworks show was a fitting end to their escape. The Huntress glided into the Atlantic under the full camouflage of her anti-sonar and anti-radar outfit. Her engine was a little noisier and her hull worse for the wear, but she was still sailing. For that, Dom was grateful.

“She’s going to need some work,” Cliff said.

“We’ll do it at sea,” Dom said. “Boys, you good up here?”

“Go see Meredith and your girls,” Thomas said, reading Dom’s mind.

Dom hurried down the ladders from the pilothouse and sprinted through the passage to the medical bay. Crewmembers were rushing around, calling to each other as they tried to fix the damage done by the cutter. Dom dodged them, waving off their questions and greetings.

In the med bay, Divya, Peter, and Sean were running a triage to help the injured. The injuries were largely superficial. Most patients needed only a few stitches or a smear of burn gel before getting back to work.

“Lauren!” he called, unable to spot the petite doctor in the chaos of the bay.

She waved to him over the crowd. “No fatalities from the battle, sir. Casualties are less than I expected,” she said as she hurried over to him. Dom nodded, relieved to hear her report. But he wasn’t there for a sitrep from the medical bay. Lauren seemed to understand. “Your girls and Meredith are this way.”

Dom followed her to the back of the medical bay. He found Kara and Sadie, along with Maggie, standing over a bed. He wrapped his arms around both girls. They fell into his hug, burying their faces against his chest. Maggie whined, her tail thumping the air furiously, until he reached down and scratched her head.

Dom felt an intense, bittersweet happiness. He had his daughters and his ship back. But had he lost Meredith instead? Kara let go first, and Sadie reluctantly followed.

Dom had been on more perilous covert ops throughout his career than he could count. He’d faced Skulls, Goliaths, and Droolers. He’d just won a sea battle against three US Coast Guard cutters. But nothing had scared him more than he felt right now. Dom gazed down at Meredith, lying in the bed with her eyes closed and bloody bandages over her head. He held his daughters’ hands as he met Lauren’s gaze and asked, “How is she?”

***

“How is she?”

The words were muddled. Faraway. Strange.

The voice was familiar, but who were they talking about?

“Stable,” another voice said. Distinctly feminine. Definitely familiar. “I’ll be honest. She lost a lot of blood.”

More words, a soup of noise. A high-pitched ringing in her head like the whine of a mosquito.

“Permanent damage?”

“Nothing we can do here. I’m sorry.”

The voices were getting clearer, like a radio station being slowly tuned in.

Meredith’s head pounded like the beat of a distant war drum. It didn’t exactly hurt. Why didn’t it hurt? It was as though she existed in a fish bowl. When had she felt like this before?

Ah, yes. After surgery. Painkillers. That’s what it was. It hurt to think, to remember, but she forced herself to do exactly that. She’d been SCUBA diving, then fighting those guards.

She’d heard Dom struggling against the guards, then she’d come up to help him. And he’d been held at gunpoint. She could feel her heart pounding faster now, the memories rushing back in a painful torrent. She’d felt a lancing, white-hot pain across her skull. It hadn’t hurt at first. But when pain struck, it hit like a great white shark appearing out of the depths and crunching down on her with a mouthful of daggers. She’d gone down just as the guard fired on Dom, too. She’d seen him fall, helpless to save him, and then she’d passed out.

Her eyes opened to a world filled with intense, burning light. She blinked to clear her vision.

“Meredith!” A chorus of voices called her name, one bass deep, the others feminine sopranos. A hand wrapped around hers. Strong and warm. Lips pressed against her cheek. She felt hot tears splash on her skin and didn’t know if they were hers or his.

“Meredith, I’m so sorry. I let you down.”

She squeezed Dom’s hand. “You’re alive. I didn’t know what happened to you.”

“To me?” he asked with a laugh. “You were worried about me?”

She gazed up at Dom’s bright-blue eyes, noting the grey-shot auburn stubble on his strong jaw. “You were shot,” she said.

“The rounds just hit body armor,” he said. “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

Dom’s cheerful expression faded. She figured it was serious. She tried moving her fingers, her toes. She thought it was working, but everything still felt awash in that strange stupor of painkillers and anesthetics.

“How bad am I?” she asked, unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

Lauren Winters locked eyes with her. She wore that sympathetic look doctors seemed to put on like a mask when delivering bad news. “You lost your right ear, Meredith. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all?” Now Meredith laughed. She couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the drugs.

“And a fair amount of blood,” Lauren added.

“But I’m alive.” She glanced at Dom and batted her eyes playfully. A silly gesture to be sure. Definitely the drugs. She didn’t care. “You still think I’m pretty even with one ear?”

“Always, Meredith. Always.”

She squeezed her fingers tighter around his. “Don’t let this convince you to take me out of the fight, Captain.”

“You say that as if I have a choice.”

“I like to make you feel important.”

“I appreciate that.”

The ebb and flow of voices around them moved like the waves gently rocking the Huntress. She could hear its engines working. They seemed louder than usual. “Where are we going?”

“Far away,” Dom said. “We’re headed to the open sea.”

“That’s good. Better than trying to take her through the desert or something.” Meredith giggled again. Then a beam of lucid thought broke through the fog of the drugs. It cracked the façade of momentary happiness she’d found waking up, alive, next to Dom. She remembered everything they’d lost. The support of the military. The United States. Adam. They’d paid a heavy toll to make it this far, and she feared their journey had only just begun. Sure, they now had a potential vaccine for the Oni Agent. But it hadn’t been tested, much less manufactured. They had a ship full of advanced technology, but even to Meredith’s untrained ears, it sounded damaged. They had a crew that was loyal and determined to a fault—and every mission seemed to cost them a life or two.

Her smile evaporated. “What next, Dom?”

Dom let out a slow breath. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I don’t know, Mere.”

She saw a shade of despair in those steely eyes. She wished she could do something to change that. But then the darkness in his eyes flickered out to be replaced by anger.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do now,” Dom said, his voice rising. “But rest assured, whatever we do, we will stop the Oni Agent. We will find those responsible, and we will make them pay for everything they’ve done.”

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The End of Book 4

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Thank you for reading The Tide: Deadrise. If you enjoyed this book, would you please leave a review?

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The story continues in The Tide: Iron Wind, Book 4 of the Tide series. You can pick up your copy here: http://amzn.to/2jYaP77

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You’ll also receive a free story, Fatal Injection, for signing up.

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I love to hear from my readers. If you want to get in touch, there are a number of ways to reach me.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/anthonyjmelchiorri

Email: ajm@anthonyjmelchiorri.com

Website: http://www.anthonyjmelchiorri.com

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Brilliant biomedical scientist Preston Carter introduces an implantable artificial organ designed to grant its recipients near-immortality. But many of those recipients are suddenly dying. With the organ already implanted in his own body, Carter must uncover the truth before he’s killed by his own invention.

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About the Author

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Anthony J Melchiorri is a scientist with a PhD in bioengineering. Originally from the Midwest, he now lives in Texas. By day, he develops cellular therapies and 3D-printable artificial organs. By night, he writes apocalyptic, medical, and science-fiction thrillers that blend real-world research with other-worldly possibility. When he isn't in the lab or at the keyboard, he spends his time running, reading, hiking, and traveling in search of new story ideas.

Read more at http://anthonyjmelchiorri.com and sign up for his mailing list at http://bit.ly/ajmlist to hear about his latest releases and news.