The Tide:

Final Surge

(The Tide Series Volume 10)

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Anthony J Melchiorri

July, 2019

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Books by Anthony J Melchiorri

-Prologue-

-1-

-2-

-3-

-4-

-5-

-6-

-7-

-8-

-9-

-10-

-11-

-12-

-13-

-14-

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-17-

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-Epilogue-

For the reader.

What to read next?

Also by Anthony J Melchiorri

About the Author

Books by Anthony J Melchiorri

The Tide Series

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The Tide (Book 1)

Breakwater (Book 2)

Salvage (Book 3)

Deadrise (Book 4)

Iron Wind (Book 5)

Dead Ashore (Book 6)

Ghost Fleet (Book 7)

Devil to Pay (Book 8)

Dry Gallows (Book 9)

Final Surge (Book 10)

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The Eternal Frontier

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Eternal Frontier (Book 1)

Edge of War (Book 2)

Shattered Dawn (Book 3)

Rebel World (Book 4)

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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: Final Surge

Copyright © 2019 by Anthony J. Melchiorri. All rights reserved.

First Edition: July 2019

http://AnthonyJMelchiorri.com

Cover Design: Eloise Knapp Design

Edited by Erin Long

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.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

-Prologue-

New Orleans, Louisiana

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A stone angel with broken wings jutted up from the murky brown waters swirling at her feet. She looked skyward with her palms pressed together in prayer. Beneath her floated an alligator, its beady black eyes searching lazily for food. Its tail swished back and forth, disturbing tangles of branches and moldy leaves. The alligator navigated a series of stone obelisks and crosses. Black and green mildew and moss grew over those stone grave markers, with an occasional splash of bright orange slime mold.

As the wind shifted, it kicked up the odor of raw sewage and floating corpses. The gator moved toward the source of the smell. Its nose bumped against a body that had become so deformed by long-term exposure to the water it was impossible to tell whether it was human.

There was, of course, a very real possibility that it wasn’t.

Staff Sergeant Oscar Diaz crossed himself, his lips moving but no words coming out. He’d never liked graveyards. They had always sent a shiver through his flesh, prickling his skin with goosebumps. But this New Orleans graveyard, butting up against the French Quarter, was something else.

The sun beat down on the back of Diaz’s neck. His skin was slick with sweat under his fatigues. The thrum of the airboat’s fan and motors beat his eardrums even through the protective earpieces he wore. On the boat were his fireteam of three other marines and the civilian volunteer piloting the airboat. His boyish face belying his experience in the field, PFC Dunn cradled his M16A4 as he studied the bloated body. At the bow, PFC Wiley had his rifle resting on its sling, a pair of binoculars pressed to his eyes. Tattoos covered his bare arms from his gloves to his rolled-up cuffs. Seated next to Diaz was Lance Corporal Jackson, his fingers tapping against the stock of his rifle, his wide jaw set in a permanent grimace.

Wiley lowered his binoculars and turned back to Diaz, wind whipping against his face. The airboat continued past the flooded cemetery and toward a street clogged with mud-covered cars and trucks. Diaz was thankful the vehicles’ windows and windshields were obscured by the grime. He had been on plenty of missions like this and knew what kind of grisly sights lay within. Too many people had tried to escape the cities in those early days. Rumors spread faster than what the science geeks were calling the Oni Agent.

At first, it seemed like people were panicked for no reason. A couple of sporadic cases over a few days. Then it exploded.

Diaz remembered when he’d been pulled back into service. Saying goodbye to his wife, Tammy, and their newborn baby girl.

He shuddered.

Fuck.

Four or five days, he had said. We’ll take care of this, and then I’ll be back home.

Two days later, his town had been virtually wiped out by those monsters. He had held on to the desperate hope that Tammy and Angelina had somehow been spared.

Then he’d found them.

And he would never forget their bone-mangled faces or their shrieks as they had tried to attack him.

The airboat fans whined slightly before slowing. Then the motors cut off altogether as the pilot drew them to a stop. They had reached the French Quarter. The levies had largely failed around New Orleans, and the pumps keeping the city dry had been abandoned. Once the federal government had gotten its shit together after the collapse, the Mississippi Valley Division of the US Army Corps of Engineers had gotten a couple of the pumps functional again. They weren’t going to drain the city completely any time soon, but they managed to keep the French Quarter dry.

Diaz had come here for his bachelor party five years ago. He’d loved it—the live music flooding into the streets, the drunken revelers tripping over discarded beads, and the entrepreneurial folk trying to sell those same cheap necklaces for a few bucks to unwary tourists.

The neighborhood had survived Hurricane Katrina, sitting just high enough compared to the rest of the city to escape the floodwaters. But long gone were the fraternity brothers trying desperately to pick up the gaggles of sorority girls and the men and women dressed in long black trench coats with their steampunk hats, promising to show visitors the best haunted houses. No more huge plastic tubes filled with colorful drinks consisting of fifty percent sugar and fifty percent alcohol.

Now broken glass glittered on cracked sidewalks where the floodwaters lapped against broken concrete curbs. A gentle wind carried plastic bags, making them fly like wayward spirits.

The floods had destroyed New Orleans. But in an ironic twist of fate, the city islands that remained might have actually saved the civilians. Sure, some Skulls braved the waters in search of food. But the numbers had been survivable. Fightable, even.

Those little islands in flooded New Orleans were nothing like downtown Chicago or Manhattan, where the Skulls had no such barriers between them and their next meal.

Nothing like Greensboro, which Diaz and his family had called home.

A fire surged through his gut at the thought of them, but he pushed past it.

“Wiley, contacts?” Diaz asked.

“Nothing in sight,” Wiley replied.

“Good. Take point.”

Wiley jumped over the bow of the airboat. His boots landed on the wet concrete with a slap, and he lowered himself into a crouch, taking point near a sedan with long scrapes along its doors. Evidence that Skulls had been here. Diaz signaled for Dunn and Jackson to go next, then he turned back to the airboat pilot.

“Be back here in two hours,” Diaz said.

The man nodded and then turned the motor on again, drawing the boat back into the floodwaters.

“Our target is the church three blocks north of here,” Diaz said. “You all know the drill.”

“Rescue the civilians,” Jackson said. “Try to get them to shut the fuck up and throw ’em on the boats.”

“Close enough,” Diaz said.

“How many of them are going to be boneheads?” Dunn asked.

Wiley cringed. None of them liked Dunn’s nickname for the half-human, half-Skull people they’d been rescuing. Brass had called them Hybrids. They were human beings who had been infected with an agent that made them look like Skulls but still think like humans. Spikes grew from their spines, marking each vertebra, and claws arced from their fingers.

“They say the boneheads can feel the bones growing through their skin,” Dunn went on.

“Fuck that shit,” Wiley said, his eyes narrowing as he brought his rifle to his shoulder. “I’d rather be dead.”

“Yeah, well, these ones want to live,” Diaz said. “And if they’re out there with normal people, we’ve got to bring ‘em in.”

They’d been told there might be a few civilian Hybrids out here. Somehow, the bioweapon that turned people into these Hybrids had popped up in pockets around the United States. Diaz wasn’t sure how or why that could be. No one in charge wanted to answer his questions. So, for now, he did what they told him: rescue civilians and bring them back to the closest designated safe zone.

The drone of the airboat quieted as it disappeared beyond the flooded cemetery. Diaz hated to see it go. He knew it would be back in two hours, along with a whole flotilla of the self-named Cajun Navy. All the same, he didn’t like the feeling of being stranded.

As they prowled along streets littered with broken furniture and trash cans, the hair on the back of Diaz’s neck stood on end. His gaze roved over the windows above them. A shutter smacked against the siding of one of the two-story, double-gallery homes. A half dozen American flags hung from another balcony. Each was faded and torn, neglected.

He looked for shadows moving in the buildings. Usually the Skulls would come careening out, screaming and slashing their claws. But nothing shrieked at them now.

They were, surprisingly, being left alone.

“Boss, didn’t recon say there were Skulls here?” Wiley whispered, evidently sharing the same thought.

“If recon says they’re here, they’re here,” Diaz replied.

“We rang the damn dinner bell for them,” Jackson said, his voice low. “Why ain’t they coming for their plate?”

Diaz paused for a moment, listening to the wind rustle through the plastic debris and dead plants. Something wasn’t right. The airboat was loud. No doubt about it. And Skulls were predictable. Loud noises got their attention.

It didn’t make sense. Either there weren’t actually any Skulls here, or...

Diaz shivered. “Remember that story we heard from Team Jaguar?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dunn said. “That special ops group that tried to rescue those scientists outside Houston.”

“That’s the one,” Diaz said. “All those poor bastards had been turned Hybrid. From what I heard, the scientists—we’re talking full-blown white-coat-wearing nerds—slaughtered a shit-ton of Skulls on their own.”

“You suggesting the civvies killed all our Skulls for us?” Wiley asked, posting up near a street corner.

“Don’t know what I’m suggesting,” Diaz said. “But it’s a possibility.”

“Maybe,” Jackson said, shrugging his huge shoulders. “I also heard Hybrids can control the Skulls.”

Wiley let out a low laugh. “You think we got a group of wild civilian Hybrids making Skulls their slaves or something?”

Jackson glared. “I don’t know, man. Just something I heard.”

“But it’s a possibility,” Diaz repeated.

He found he didn’t like too many possibilities when it came to Skulls. Predictability was always better. When they charged him in the open, baring their yellowed fangs and long claws, at least he knew what was up.

But Hybrids added too many variables to an already uncertain mission. They trudged on, clearing each street corner, moving methodically between the vehicles. A few abandoned National Guard Humvees were parked along Bourbon Street next to toppled barricades and the yellowed skeleton of a horse.

“Don’t like those type of skeletons,” Jackson said as they passed.

“You scared of horsey ghosts?” Wiley asked.

“No, bro,” Jackson said, pointing to the long femurs of the horse. “Picked clean of flesh. Teeth marks everywhere. Skulls were definitely here.”

Wiley didn’t offer a smartass remark to that.

They passed an art gallery. The wide doors were cracked open, glass sparkling along the sidewalk, glinting as the sun peeked out behind a gray cloud. Inside, huge modernist paintings of celebrities from the fifties and sixties were plastered over the wall. Red was sprayed across their faces.

Not paint. That was blood.

Broken glass crunched somewhere behind him. He froze and held up a fist. His men had heard it too. They probed their sightlines with their rifles, looking for movement.

A crumpled paper bag rolled down the street, getting stuck on an overturned metal lawn chair.

“What in the hell was that?” Dunn asked.

Come on, Skull, Diaz thought. If you’re following us, show yourself.

There was nothing else, and he signaled the men to continue.

They passed another street looking no better than the last, battered by weather and neglect. He gingerly stepped over a broken long bone. Splintered, its marrow sucked dry, the bone could’ve belonged to an animal or human.

They pushed through the next block. The spire of a cathedral greeted them, and soon they arrived at the wrought-iron fence surrounding the building.

“What the fuck...” Wiley said, his voice a shaky whisper.

Shaded by the unpruned trees lining the fence were dozens of bodies impaled on the spear-like posts of the iron fences. The odor nearly made Diaz choke as he fought the urge to gag.

“Guess that answers our questions about where the Skulls went,” Wiley said.

Dried blood covered the organic armor plates over the creatures’ chests. Their claws hung limp and useless by their sides. Most had long ribbons of flesh dangling from their neck or torso. A few had been split open at the belly between the cracks in their armor. Ropes of organs hung out, glistening with a wet sheen that told Diaz these bodies were freshly deceased.

“Civilians did that?” Dunn asked.

“We couldn’t do that to them,” Jackson said, his eyes wide.

Suddenly, the rifle in Diaz’s hands felt impotent. He prayed to God that whatever had done that to those creatures was on their side.

Has to be, right? The enemy of my enemy...

The humid wind picked up, brushing against the bodies. Their organic armor clanked, creating a ghastly chorus of bone against iron.

“Boss?” Wiley stood positioned with his rifle ready at one of the gates into the churchyard.

Diaz gave him the hand signal to go. They surged between the trees and past the macabre tableau toward the exterior wall of the church. One by one, they flitted toward the massive wooden doors leading into the sanctuary. Wiley pressed his hand against the door. Diaz sucked in a sharp breath then gave him the go-ahead.

They rushed in, guns at the ready.

The smell of unwashed bodies rolled over Diaz. Colorful rays of sunlight flooded through the stained-glass windows, casting dusty columns of red and blue and gold over the rows of pews.

Then Diaz saw who had massacred those Skulls.

There were people wearing denim and soiled sweatshirts or T-shirts. They stood straight and at attention, facing the pulpit. But they weren’t people. Atop their heads were horns, and spikes pushed out of their backs. Their shoulder blades jutted against their clothes, and their ribs had become overgrown to the point where each one seemed to be wearing police-issued body armor under their clothes.

“Fuck,” Wiley said.

“Hello? We’re marines sent by the US government to rescue you,” Diaz said, his voice ringing hollowly against the cathedral walls, threatening to crack.

None of the Hybrids turned their heads.

Diaz’s eyes followed their gaze to the pulpit. What had them so enraptured that they couldn’t respond to their rescue?

At the altar stood a Hybrid wearing all black. Was he a preacher or something?

He was the only one looking at the marines. When he caught Diaz’s eye, he grinned.

“Good Lord, boss, I don’t like this,” Wiley said, already backing up.

“This ain’t right,” Dunn agreed.

“Please listen to me!” Diaz barked again. “We’re here to rescue you!”

“We are already saved,” the Hybrid at the altar said with a thick Russian accent. He held up a small plastic bottle and shook it. The contents within rattled. “These are the men we warned you about. If you want relief from your pain, from the agony in your bones, you will do as we said.”

Low laughter drifted around the cathedral. Diaz looked around, trying to place the sound. It wasn’t from the Hybrids in the pews. The laughter was coming from the rafters.

What kind of godforsaken place had this church become?

Hybrids perched in the rafters like Satan’s spawn. All wore black. One swung in from an open window.

It pointed its claw at Diaz. “They are the only ones I saw out there,” it said.

And then Diaz knew who had been following them. The bonehead had warned these others of their presence.

“Go on,” the Hybrid at the pulpit said. “Greet these men as I commanded.”

A few of the Hybrids stood. One spoke in a Southern drawl. “No way am I killing one of our own,” he said. “I can deal with a little pain.”

“Is that so?” the Hybrid at the altar said. “Does anyone else refuse our offer?”

Over half the civilian Hybrids stood.

“The fuck is going on?” Diaz asked.

“They want us to kill you!” one of the now-standing civilians said, shaking her claws. “They’re offering—”

Blood and flesh exploded from the side of her skull. Her body slumped to the ground as a gun report echoed in the chamber. Diaz looked up to see one of the black-clad Hybrids lowering his weapon.

Then, all at once, gunfire exploded from the other Hybrids in the rafters. The civilians who were standing now fell in a hail of bullets. Diaz still didn’t know what in the hell was going on, but he figured there would be time to answer those questions later.

“Fire!” Diaz barked, pointing at the Hybrids with guns.

His men opened fire, and the clash of gunfire became deafening in the enclosed space. But the Hybrids leapt from their positions, moving at superhuman strengths and speeds, disappearing into the shadows.

“Go!” the Hybrid at the altar said, his voice booming even over the gunfire.

Then those civilian Hybrids who had not been slaughtered turned. Their eyes were bloodshot, their faces contorted in agony between the bony nodules. A few even looked sorry about what they were going to do.

“We’re here to save you!” Diaz yelled. “We can help you!”

They did not listen. They charged amid the laughter of the Russian-sounding Hybrids. Diaz opened fire, spraying lead into the mass of civilians. He signaled for his men to fall back, to leave this hellhole.

It was too late. The Hybrids were on them.

Wiley fell first, blood spraying up from a slash in his neck. Jackson screamed. He had dropped his rifle and was clutching at a gaping hole in his stomach, trying desperately to hold in his organs. Another slash of Hybrid claws silenced him. Dunn fell beside Diaz. He leveled two Hybrids before a third civilian pounced, nothing but animalistic anger in the woman’s eyes. Her teeth sank into Dunn’s neck.

A Hybrid lunged at Diaz. His expression was a mixture of pain and anger. Diaz tried to fire on the man, but he knocked the rifle away. Diaz held up his hands to block a hammering blow. Pain shuddered through his arms, and he heard the snap of bone.

His own, breaking.

The man knocked Diaz over and brought up a fist, claws gleaming wet with blood. Diaz realized it was his, pooling out from the wounds in his arm.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, his eyes wet. “They made us.”

Claws dug deep into Diaz’s side, worming past the body armor and piercing between his broken ribs.

Adrenaline surged over the pain as his consciousness swirled into oblivion.

And then he saw faces. No longer the demonic Hybrids looming over him.

More like angels.

Tammy. Angelina.

They were welcoming him into the next world. Everything was warm, bright.

Then the claws came down, again and again. Flesh ripped and blood poured. Staff Sergeant Oscar Diaz felt himself go cold. Darkness crept across his vision, sweeping his angels away in a black tide.

-1-

“They’re alive,” Samantha Hamlin announced.

Dominic Holland wanted so badly to believe. He looked around the conference table in the middle of the electronics workshop, the brains of the Huntress, and saw similar expressions of desperate hope on each of the faces there.

“Don’t do this to me,” Glenn Walsh said. The burly Hunter squeezed the dog-eared copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls in his hands. The yellowed pages crinkled.

Dom had seen Glenn reading and rereading that book since they had first heard news about Doctor Lauren Winters, their chief medical officer, and Navid Ghasemi, a former graduate student who’d been recruited to the team. For months, they had believed that Lauren and Navid likely perished when a marauding Forces of Global Liberation group attacked Mueller Pharmaceuticals in Frankfurt. Their work had been poised to change the tide of war against the FGL and the Oni Agent.

Losing the research and facilities was bad enough, but to lose two more members of their crew—their family—had been worse.

Glenn had suffered in silence.

Like Dom, he’d lost brothers- and sisters-in-arms in the constant conflict since the outbreak. But unlike Dom, Glenn had lost his closest friend and partner. Without Lauren, he had turned into a hollow version of himself. In the days and weeks following the news that Mueller Pharmaceuticals and all its employees and facilities had been turned into nothing but ash and rubble, Glenn had withdrawn from the rest of the crew.

Glenn had eventually pulled himself together enough to carry on. Now, Dom saw something spark in Glenn’s eyes as he sat at the table across from Samantha.

“You can’t give me this false hope,” Glenn said, shaking his head. “Because if you make me believe that they’re somehow still alive, and then we find out it’s all a lie, I can’t...”

Glenn’s words trailed off. He continued shaking his head.

Thomas Hampton, Dom’s grizzled first mate, clasped a hand over Glenn’s shoulder. “Son, I’ve seen enough bullshit to keep all of Iowa’s cornfields fertilized for a century.”

“That’s an oddly specific metaphor,” Samantha said, raising a brow.

Thomas ignored her. “Point is, I’ve learned that if Samantha tells us something, it ain’t bullshit. This girl, for all the computer garbage she speaks and neon chemicals she drinks, does one thing: she tells the truth. And if Lauren and Navid are out there, we’ll find ‘em.”

Dom wished he had Thomas’s simple faith that everything would work out. Thomas had done a fine job taking care of the Huntress and bringing them through naval battles alive. But he hadn’t spent much time in Skull- and FGL-infested territories. He hadn’t seen what Dom had seen. What Glenn had seen.

And Dom knew that was why Glenn was having so much trouble believing Samantha when she told them that Lauren and Navid might actually be alive.

Dom tried to look at the situation logically. The evidence indicated the scientists had survived the attack on Frankfurt. Samantha had uncovered a coded message embedded within an intercepted FGL scientific report. According to that message, Lauren and Navid had been forced to work for the FGL. Samantha wasn’t sure why or what they were doing, but she insisted that they were alive.

“We will do everything we can to get them back,” Dom said to Glenn. That was true. They would track this message down to the ends of the Earth if they had to. But he would not promise they would actually find Lauren and Navid alive. Everything they could do might still not be enough.

“How long do you think it’s going to take to track them down?” Dom asked.

“If that lab keeps sending out communications, not long,” Samantha said. “Now that I know what to look for, Chao and I should be able to weasel past their security protocols.”

Chao Li, the other tech comms and tech specialist, nodded. “It’s entirely possible we’ll locate the origin of those signals within the next couple days.”

But Dom saw the uncertainty in his eyes. “What’s the ‘but’?”

“Nothing on our end,” Chao said. “It’s just that our allies back in the States haven’t been as willing to help.”

Dom understood what Chao was implying. The Huntress had its fair share of equipment, but there was only so much processing power they could fit aboard the ship. At times, they required access to remote supercomputer facilities to run various simulations and process intensive operations from the science and tech crew.

“What’s the holdup?” Dom asked.

“They’re just giving us the runaround,” Chao said. “Claiming their resources are being tied up.”

Thomas scoffed. “After all the shit we’ve done for them, they can’t spare a couple computers for us.”

“It’s going to take more than a couple computers,” Samantha said.

“You know what I mean.”

Samantha gave him a shit-eating grin. “I’m not sure you know what you mean.”

Thomas plucked an unlit cigar from his pocket. “You’re right. I don’t. You take care of all the cyber stuff, and I’ll take care of the boat.”

“That’s all I ask,” Samantha said.

“Still don’t see why they can’t give you whatever it is that you all need,” Thomas said. “We brought back the Halo pills to start treating Hybrids after NATO nearly bombed the living shit out of you all in Baghdad.”

“Lauren and Navid gave them the Tenth Plague, too,” Dom said. The biological weapon was specially formulated to target people infected with the Oni Agent, tearing through the bone-like growths better than a fire swept through a dry forest. “This isn’t just a matter of them owing us. Those two are national assets. Hell, they’re international assets. We can’t allow the FGL to exploit them.”

“Don’t need to convince me,” Thomas said.

“I know I don’t,” Dom said. “Problem is finding someone back home that will listen to us. This isn’t something we can do alone.”

***

Colonel Jacob Shepherd walked through the streets of Fort Detrick. People flowed from the building and clogged the sidewalks. Military vehicles drove toward the outskirts of the base to provide reinforcements and supplies for those defending the base from Skulls.

The operations at Fort Detrick, from manufacturing the Tenth Plague to the Pacifist Fog, were crucial to defeating the FGL. Their work needed to be protected at all costs, and that knowledge weighed heavy on his mind every second of every day.

A storm of voices called over the roads and echoed between the buildings of Fort Detrick. Soldiers ran between the tent-lined parking lots to one of the exterior walls, joining the chorus of gunfire.

Civilians moved out of the soldiers’ way. Shepherd saw a few faces filled with worry, but not as many as one might expect. Most carried on as though the sound of gunfire was nothing but the patter of a soft rain. They had grown accustomed to a scene that would have once caused widespread panic. He wondered what this meant for their humanity, that scenes of such gruesome violence outside their gates had become nothing more than a minor annoyance.

The gunfire soon quieted, another Skull threat dealt with.

It was just another day at Fort Detrick.

In addition to the USAMRIID facilities, the base contained menagerie of warehouses, gymnasiums, and offices that had been turned into civilian shelters. They had quickly filled with refugees. Shepherd had been working with Fort Detrick’s leadership team to identify nearby buildings that they could expand into. Somewhere they could defend while being careful not to overextend the base’s meager defenses.

But that now seemed like a dream. Fires had swept several of the nearby neighborhoods months ago. Those buildings nearest the base had mostly been leveled by repeated shelling and gunfire when Detrick defended itself from Goliaths and particularly nasty hordes of Skulls.

The best they could do was keep stacking people in the existing shelters and hope that something changed before there was no more room for tents and sleeping bags.

He marched toward the office building that held some of the base’s research laboratories as well as their command information center. Two privates guarding the facility shot him salutes. He returned them as he passed. The buzzing of generators down the hall greeted him next. More men and women in uniform marched between rooms, the halls more packed than the streets outside.

Some paused to offer a salute as he passed. Others offered brief greetings of “Colonel,” harried looks on their faces as they rushed to their next task. And still others didn’t seem to notice him.

He didn’t blame them. Not in a place like this, where every second counted. Where lives were literally being lost or saved in the moments between those seconds. Search parties were organized and sent out, rescue teams found new refugees, and other squads desperately raced to uncover and bring back new resources to the base.

“Colonel Shepherd,” one familiar voice said, standing still amid the rush of bodies around her.

“Lieutenant Vasquez,” Shepherd said. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

The lieutenant had been there in the early days of the collapse, serving beside Shepherd back when he’d assumed the role of garrison commander over Detrick. She had remained here, doing her best to hold things together even when the government nearly fell apart.

“Have you found a place for the new refugees?” Shepherd asked.

Vasquez’s brow scrunched as they walked toward the CIC. “I’ve found space, sir.”

Shepherd sensed hesitation. “But?”

“But the other civilians have been... expressing concerns about the new refugees.”

“People don’t trust Hybrids.”

“Right,” she said. “A few lodged complaints, and a bunch of families with children moved to the other side of the base.”

“Have you moved them back?”

“We did,” Vasquez said. “They didn’t like it.”

“They would like it less if we sent them outside,” Shepherd said. So far, they hadn’t had to carry through with their threat of throwing unruly civilians back out into the clutches of the Skulls. He dreaded the day it became necessary.

They reached the CIC. The room was full of men and women at computers, voices and machines buzzing around them. Shepherd stood near the back of the room with Vasquez at his side.

“This isn’t some goddamn kindergarten,” he said. “The civilians will just have to learn to get along.”

“Someone proposed housing all the Hybrids in cages.”

That brought dark images of internment camps to Shepherd’s mind. He didn’t want to be a part of that kind of history.

But he recalled what Dom had told them about the Hunters’ mission in Estonia. The prisoners they’d freed from the FGL—mostly Hybrids—had come close to sabotaging their own escape. The Hybrids were vulnerable to the enemy’s control. They hadn’t killed or hurt anybody, but the potential was there.

Still...

“We can’t keep them in cages,” Shepherd said. “But they do need more medical attention than our normal refugee population. I suggest housing them somewhere our medical team can keep a better eye on them. Clear out the gymnasium and set up shelters there.”

Vasquez raised a brow. He could tell she wanted to ask him more on the matter, but she wouldn’t question him in front of the rest of the CIC. “Yes, sir. I’ll get on that and ensure everyone knows it’s for health reasons only.”

“You’re reading my mind, Lieutenant.”

Vasquez stopped at one of the comm specialists’ desks before taking off into the chaos of the building’s halls.

“Colonel Shepherd,” said a low voice behind him.

He turned to see Colonel Gary Holcomb, the commander overseeing the USAMRIID. The military physician had had a hell of a time taking control of the broken institute over the past few months, but now he managed much of the United States’ research efforts on the Oni and Heikegani Agents.

“I owe Team Jaguar my thanks,” Holcomb said. “The personnel they brought back helped us push Tenth Plague production up by almost twenty percent.”

“That’s good news,” Shepherd said, smiling. Holcomb didn’t smile in return. “It’s not good enough, is it?”

Holcomb shook his head. “We’re miles away from our target projections. Losing Frankfurt hurts.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Right now, you’ve done more than I could’ve hoped. We’ve got fully staffed manufacturing plants and labs brimming with scientists. We’re good on personnel. We just need more space.”

Everybody wanted space.

“If we had it, I would give it to you,” Shepherd said.

“I assume you don’t have any extra time, either.”

“Hard negative.”

Holcomb’s lips thinned as he stared straight ahead, looking out over the CIC. Both men knew time was something they didn’t have. Not with General Kinsey’s plans. And both also knew that trying to delay those plans would do no good either. They simply couldn’t delay anymore. The FGL needed to be struck down fast.

“What about Pacifist Fog?” Shepherd asked.

“Kinsey says the six tons of it we’ve produced will have to be enough.”

“Tenth Plague?”

“Just beginning production. Less than half a ton.”

Both remained silent for a moment, surrounded by the chatter and chirp of activity.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Shepherd spoke.

“What’s that?”

“This place used to develop bioweapons. We’ve come full circle. Making the very biological weapons the world tried to ban decades ago, knowing full well the repercussions of unleashing them.”

“We truly are desperate,” Holcomb said.

“Let’s just hope there is a day where we can turn these labs back into medical research facilities and not weapons plants.”

Shepherd and Holcomb said brief goodbyes and departed. Shepherd was nearly late for a meeting about rescue operations on the other side of the base. As he exited the building, he heard the distant roar of a C-130H climbing into the sky from the freshly resurrected Frederick Municipal Airport. It carried a new load of Tenth Plague and Pacifist Fog weapons destined for the frontlines against the FGL.

“Godspeed,” Shepherd whispered.

-2-

Meredith Webb mopped the sweat off her brow with a towel. She looked at the results on the treadmill: five miles down. She stretched her legs, feeling the burn simmer through her muscles.

Running had always been her way to burn off steam. A physical escape from the mental gruel of thwarting biological terrorists back in her Langley days. Running put her in a trance. Wiped the mind clean of worries, of stress.

But during the apocalypse, it was more than that. It was a necessity. If you couldn’t run from Skulls, you couldn’t survive.

The hatch to the Huntress’s gym opened with a clang. Dom’s oldest daughter, Kara Holland, strode in, dressed in blue coveralls. Oil stains covered the front of them, and streaks of black traced across Kara’s cheeks, darkening the deep scars along the side of her face.

The young woman peeled off her stained coveralls and tossed them in the corner. A white T-shirt and running shorts clung to her thin body.

“Straight from the engine room to the gym?” Meredith asked.

Kara began stretching her legs. “Don’t have much downtime. Thirty minutes, and I’m back on the clock.”

Meredith couldn’t help but grin. “You don’t stop.”

“Can’t,” Kara said, hopping up onto the treadmill. She kicked it up a speed to rival Meredith’s.

“Wish I had your energy,” Meredith said.

“Not sure how much energy I’ll have left after another double shift with Alden.” Then, as if it were nothing but an afterthought, she asked, “We still on for a sparring match later?”

Meredith laughed. “You sure you won’t be exhausted by then?”

“No,” Kara said, sweat beginning to bead between the oil marks. “But I got to give you a chance, right?”

“That sounds like a challenge,” Meredith said. “I’m not going to take it easy on you.”

“I hope that you don’t,” Kara said. “Because the FGL sure as hell isn’t going to take it easy on me.”

And there it was. That same calculated bravado Meredith so often saw in Dom. Not arrogance, but rather a willingness to face the enemy. That would serve Kara well in whatever the future held for her. For Kara and whoever else inherited the Earth after the Oni Agent had run its course.

Assuming it ever did.

But Meredith also felt a twinge of sorrow, knowing the world she had grown up in was gone forever. Even if they managed to defeat the FGL and wipe out every single Skull, things could never go back to how they used to be.

Meredith checked her smartwatch. “Meet you back here in four hours?”

“Four hours,” Kara agreed. “Assuming the Huntress doesn’t have a heart attack or something before then.”

Meredith gave Kara a nod as she slipped out of the gym. Somewhere down the passage, she heard the playful bark she’d grown to know well. Maggie, Dom’s family golden retriever, was somewhere, probably playing with Kara’s younger sister. She thought for a second of visiting Sadie. She’d grown attached to Dom’s kids—and the dog. She wanted to see how Sadie was doing, wondering if perhaps the younger girl sometimes felt left out. Kara was old enough to take on a job in engineering. Sadie helped around the mess and with other routine maintenance duties, but the girl should have been in school. With other kids her own age. Although Divya Karnak, one of the ship’s doctors, was tutoring Sadie, the girl spent most of her time alone.

But as much as Meredith’s heart tugged at her, she had heavier responsibilities weighing her down, drawing her into the electronics workshop.

There, the thrum of heavy metal music leaked out of Samantha’s headphones, mingling with the buzz from the computer fans and the chirping of the comms equipment. Meredith sat down at the cluttered desk behind Samantha, giving a nod to the blue action figure of Dr. Manhattan perched on the computer.

Meredith brought herself up to speed with Samantha and Chao’s current efforts. They were still picking apart intercepted data to find the laboratory where Lauren’s intercepted message had come from. Most intelligence work was a very unsexy march through piles of barely intelligible documents filled with all kinds of bureaucratic and technical jargon.

Finding the right laboratory reports was crucial to their efforts. If they filled Samantha’s decryption and tracking software with too much bad data, they could get themselves caught up in rabbit holes to nowhere. So, while they used automated programs as much as possible, they needed a set of human eyes to verify that the reports were actually worth looking at.

She tore through as many reports as she could. Sorting them like Samantha had taught her. Tracking down the IP addresses they’d been routed through, which oftentimes was a garbled mess of locations given the unreliability of cyber infrastructure in a world on life support. Following data trails through sat comms was even more difficult, but Samantha promised Meredith she could handle it.

Sifting through all this data cast a fog over Meredith’s mind that even the bitter taste of instant coffee couldn’t dispel. She was beginning to understand why Samantha had such a passion for heavy metal and energy drinks.

Meredith checked her watch halfway through another technical report. She was supposed to meet up with Kara soon, giving her an excuse to stretch her muscles.

But an intraship message blinked on her computer monitor from Kara. She was wrapped up in repairing an air valve leak with Alden and wouldn’t be out for another three or four hours at the earliest.

“Ho-ly shit,” Samantha said, tearing off her headphones. She stood abruptly and pushed back her chair. It toppled over with a metallic clang.

Meredith’s eyes went wide, a jolt of adrenaline flushing through her. Too much time in the field had primed her body to react to the possibility of a threat.

“What’s going on?” Meredith asked, already out of her seat and rounding her desk.

Chao was standing, too, tapping on his computer. The screens covering the front bulkhead of the workshop lit up.

“We should have guessed,” Chao said. “It all comes back to this. Where Pyotr Spitkovsky started planning his overthrow of the Russian government, back when he was organizing the Forces of Global Liberation with his father’s help.”

“That’s where all these new research reports are coming from?” Meredith asked.

“Yep.” Samantha hit a key on her keyboard. A map glowed across the screens at the front of the workshop. “That’s where they’re coming from, so that’s where Lauren and Navid must be.”

The Russians had historically balked at the Biological Weapons Convention treaty, covertly pursuing biological weapons research despite the international agreement. But Spitkovsky’s work had been too brazen, too sick, too twisted for even the Russian government to condone.

Pyotr Spitkovsky believed that the only way to fix the world’s ills was to destroy modern civilization and start over. That was the goal of the Forces of Global Liberation, the organization that Spitkovsky had built with the help of his allies in Iran. He’d cooked up his master plan during his years at the site now dominating the screen on the bulkhead wall.

The Black Swan Prison. A facility where Russia had stowed its political prisoners in hopes they would be forgotten. Deep in the darkest, coldest region of the Siberian taiga.

“Get Dom,” Meredith said. “Tell him we know where the Huntress is headed next.”

***

The lights of the FGL laboratory turned dark. The buzz of equipment in the laboratory ceased. No beeping alarms. No humming computers. Lauren heard far-off cries. Voices boomed in the corridors.

A single red emergency light glowed at the end of the lab. Navid glanced at her in the hellish light, an anxious look painted across his face.

“To your beds!” a voice ordered, then devolved into a coughing fit.

Sokolov, the mad Hybrid scientist who had been supervising them since their arrival. Supervising them—or maybe imprisoned with them. Lauren couldn’t quite tell.

Navid scurried back to his cot. An oily sheen covered his face. His beard had grown long, and his eyes were shadowed under greasy tangles of hair. He looked like he had aged ten years.

Lauren hated to think about what she looked like. God, if Glenn saw her now...

She would welcome it. Lauren would throw herself into his arms like a silly heroine in a romance novel. As much as she wanted to save the world, she was still only human.

Sokolov erupted into another coughing fit. He covered his mouth with a hand and fell backward into his cot. The Hybrid pulled his hand away. Drooping strings of mucus and blood webbed between his fingers. Lauren wondered how many days the scientist had left. Couldn’t be many.

Sokolov had done his best to break them to ensure their forced loyalty to the FGL’s cause. He’d been the one to tell them Navid’s family had been kidnapped and were now the FGL’s hostages.

Navid was supposed to work on blocking the effects of the Phoenix Compound, while Lauren developed a chemical that could stop the Pacifist Fog, effectively rendering the two most powerful biological innovations in NATO’s arsenal obsolete.

Developing weapons to stop the weapons she’d made at the beginning of this war. The mere idea of it all was insane. And yet, here they were. Nothing more than pawns to be used by either side.

Of course, she had not worked for the FGL willingly. She’d delayed her work as long as possible, only making incremental advancements. Just enough to convince the FGL she was whipped.

But Lauren took quiet pleasure in the fact that she was anything but broken. She was simply awaiting the day when Glenn and the Hunters would storm this place, wherever the hell it was, and rescue her and Navid.

Sokolov recovered from his coughing fit. He slumped against a wall, arms folded over his bony chest. Red light illuminated the curves of his clawed fingers. His breath came out in ragged gasps, and for a moment, that was the only noise Lauren heard.

Then came the wind. A distant howl. It sounded like the fingers of a giant scraping against stone. Must be a storm. Probably the reason for the power outage.

She wondered if that might help her figure out where they were. A storm like that reminded her of childhood winters in the Northeast, with blizzards carrying ice and snow enough to bury her house and knock down power lines. Or maybe they were somewhere a typhoon might hit, bringing gale-force winds and swirling black clouds.

All the light banks flickered on again. Brilliant light flooded the space, momentarily blinding Lauren. The laboratory equipment barked its displeasure at being shut down, alarms blaring and red lights blinking from every corner.

“What are you waiting for?” Sokolov said, pushing himself away from the wall. He pointed a crooked finger at Lauren then Navid. “Fix them! Now!”

She scurried to the chromatography machine nearest her and reset the lamps in the detectors. All the while she kept her head low, not daring to look up at Sokolov. What if he saw the defiance in her eyes, the hope?

Then a door slammed. She glanced up in surprise, then bit her lip to refrain from a frightened yelp.

A man stood in the entrance of the lab, his frame blocking the doorway. Sweat glistened over his bald head. His beady eyes scanned the room. Scars crisscrossed his face like tattoos, and he inhaled deeply as if he was appreciating the aroma of a vintage wine.

She knew this man. The mere sight of him sent icy waves of fear through her flesh. What the hell was he doing here?

The man strode across the room to Sokolov. The Hybrid nearly bowed like a loyal subject to a king. Lauren tried hard to avert her eyes, not wanting to attract attention.

Pyotr Spitkovsky. The leader of the FGL. The man who had ordered the release of the Oni Agent. The harbinger of the apocalypse.

And he was right here. In this lab. With her and Navid.

Lauren heard coughing, then a strangled cry. She looked up to see Spitkovsky lifting Sokolov by his throat. The Hybrid didn’t bother struggling. He merely hung limp in Spitkovsky’s grip.

Spitkovsky stared hard into Sokolov’s eyes. The Hybrid did his best to look down, but there was no escaping that icy gaze. Spitkovsky said something in Russian, his voice unmistakably angry. With a growl, he threw Sokolov across the room. The Hybrid cracked against the wall, flecks of his bony spines breaking off in splinters.

Lauren couldn’t help it this time. She sucked in a breath. Too loudly.

Spitkovsky turn to her. A devilish grin broke over his face, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth. She blinked, trying to decide if her mind was playing tricks on her or if those teeth were as pointed as they seemed.

Like a wolf, he stalked toward her. She tried to back away, until the bottom of her spine hit the corner of a lab bench.

“Where are you off to?” Spitkovsky asked, his voice rolling over her.

“No-nowhere,” she stuttered.

“You are a frightened mouse,” he said. He clamped a hand over her shoulder, squeezing tightly. She had to remind herself he was merely a human. But something about him reeked of an arrogance no mortal being should possess. He hadn’t even bothered to come down here with a posse of bodyguards. He owned this place. He owned these people.

He believed he owned Lauren and Navid.

“I’m just surprised,” she said. “I, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Now Spitkovsky laughed. “Yes, this is the last place I’d ever expect to see myself.”

His grip on her shoulder loosened. She sensed Navid staring at her anxiously, and Lauren hoped he wouldn’t try anything.

“Don’t think I don’t see you, boy,” Spitkovsky said, still staring directly into Lauren’s eyes. Then he smiled, revealing those teeth. Yes, they were definitely pointed. And Lauren could see the burst blood vessels in his eyes, staining his sclera red. His fingernails, too, were yellowed. Sharp.

Was Spitkovsky turning into a Skull?

Impossible. Something wasn’t right.

“I was having a talk with your boss,” Spitkovsky said, nodding toward Sokolov. The Hybrid scientist cowered in the corner, whimpering. “I have voiced my displeasure with his work.” Then he leaned in closer, his rancid breath enveloping the air around her. “With your work.”

“I’m sorry,” Lauren said, sounding as meek as possible. “We’re doing everything we can.”

Spitkovsky laughed. “Yes, yes. And Dr. Matsumoto did everything he could.” He was talking about the old Japanese scientist he’d stolen from the United States, the original inventor of the Oni Agent. The man Spitkovsky had employed for decades to improve upon his biological terrors. “I have seen what you did under a little pressure for the Hunters. For Dominic Holland, you made miracles happen. You made miracles science.

“And you’ll do that again,” Spitkovsky continued. “Unless, of course, you have a very good excuse why your experiments have failed.”

“The equipment and resources... we just... we don’t have enough personnel... and...”

“Lies,” Spitkovsky said with a smirk. “Sokolov may be a fool. I am not. You can work harder. You can work better. You can work smarter.”

“I—”

Spitkovsky clamped a hand over her mouth. “Lies. More lies.” Then he traced his fingers along her arms. “I think, perhaps, you don’t understand how serious this is.”

Spitkovsky tightened his grip around her wrist with one hand and her elbow with another. He brought his knee up in a vicious blow.

An audible snap sounded across the room as her forearm broke in two.

Then came the pain.

-3-

“I hate the cold, Chief,” Miguel Ruiz said, sitting in the mess with the rest of the Hunters. Dom watched him stab at the thick mass of creamy stuff from a can labeled MASHED POTATOES. “Couldn’t Shit-kovsky have picked a better place to throw Lauren and Navid behind bars?”

“Like right out in the open,” Jenna Reed said with a dreamy look. “Maybe with neon signs that said Evil Fuckers’ Lair.”

“Sounds like a movie I once watched,” Andris Jansons said, his accent thick as he circled a finger around the rim of his coffee mug.

“This wouldn’t have happened to be an adult film, would it?” Dom asked.

“Oh, you have seen it too?” Andris asked.

Miguel laughed, leaning forward over the table. “Chief doesn’t watch that kind of stuff.” Then he feigned a look of concern. “Do you, Chief?”

“I find suspense is usually a good motivator.” Dom stood, slapping his hands on the table. “So I’m going to leave you in it.”

“Fine,” Miguel said. “But tell me you’re joking about this whole Siberia thing. Going to Helsinki in the middle of winter was bad enough. But Siberia? I hear polar bears freeze to death there.”

“Then maybe we’ll get lucky, and the Skulls will all be icicles,” Jenna said.

“If we are headed to Siberia,” Andris said, “then I have a feeling Skulls will be the least of our worries. Nothing good can be found there.”

Dom knew Andris’s concerns were about more than the unforgiving weather sweeping the taiga. Andris had grown up in Latvia. He had born witness to the strict rule of the Soviet Union during his early years. Multiple members of his family had been carried away to Siberia, supposedly for a better life. But of course, they had never been heard from again.

“I’m not sure if I’m in full agreement with you there, brother,” Glenn said. “If Samantha is right, Lauren and Navid are there. And that counts as good to me.”

Andris wagged a finger at him. “Fine. Only two good things are in Siberia. The rest is a frozen hell.”

“We’ve been through enough hell for a dozen spec ops platoons. It would be nice to share the burden,” Dom said.

Brendan O’Neil looked up from the end of the table, turning his narrowed yellow eyes on Dom.

“Last time we worked with the US, they left us out to dry. Bastards don’t give a shit about us,” O’Neil said.

Dom didn’t blame him for the attitude. O’Neil was a Hybrid. The constant bone growth spurred on by the Heikegani Agent meant that O’Neil’s body was torturing itself every second of every day. They had secured a batch of the Halo pills developed by the FGL. Those pills relieved the pain of the Heikegani Agent and temporarily abated the growth of the plates and spikes covering O’Neil. But they weren’t a permanent fix, and their supply was limited.

Neither Fort Detrick nor the medical team aboard the Huntress had figured out how to reproduce the Halo pills. The only thing O’Neil had to look forward to right now was the pain of being a Hybrid when the pills on the Huntress ran out.

“Lauren and Navid might not be the only thing we find in Siberia,” Dom said. “We’re infiltrating a research center for the FGL. Might contain the intel we need to start making the Halo pills.”

“Maybe,” O’Neil said, “but so far every place we’ve been has yielded a big fat nothing.”

“Which is why Siberia is promising,” Jenna said. “We’ve eliminated so many other possibilities. It’s always the last place you look, right?”

“Just as likely as not,” O’Neil said glumly.

Dom figured nothing he could say about Halo right now would dispel the dark clouds clotting O’Neil’s mind.

He placed a hand on the former SEAL’s bony shoulder. The rough plates felt unnatural against Dom’s palms, but he worked hard not to let any sign of discomfort cross his face. O’Neil, though he’d joined the team recently, was every bit as much a Hunter as the rest of them.

It physically pained Dom to see any of his brothers- or sisters-in-arms in anguish, physically or mentally. O’Neil was no exception.

This mission into Siberia wasn’t just about saving the world. It was about saving his team. They had already lost so many brothers and sisters since they’d embarked on their seemingly foolish quest around the world to stop the Oni Agent and the FGL. He couldn’t stand to lose any more.

He strode into the passage, alone with his thoughts and the brackish yellow lights gleaming between metal struts.

O’Neil was right.

The Hunters generally worked better alone. Fighting the Skulls and the FGL was unpredictable. Working alongside people they didn’t know well in highly stressful and deadly situations added another variable to that problem. Sometimes it worked out for them; sometimes it didn’t. Dom didn’t like the uncertainty.

But what could he do? The Huntress was a ship on its last legs, having taken a considerable amount of damage over the past several months. The repairs had mostly been bandages over gaping wounds. To top it off, Spitkovsky seemed to have gotten better at predicting the Hunters’ next moves. Even when Dom had thought they had the element of surprise like back in Finland, Spitkovsky had been ready for them.

No doubt Spitkovsky would be ready for them in Siberia. Dom had seen what kind of forces the FGL could muster in Moscow and Baghdad. Though both cities now lay in ruins, and most of the FGL forces there were presumed dead, the fighting had nearly cost NATO and the rest of the free world the war. Operation Thunderbolt—and the hope that the FGL could soundly be defeated—had failed.

Dom had already weighed their options with Meredith and Thomas. They’d spent hours deliberating. Asking for help from NATO meant that they’d potentially lose control of the mission altogether. It also meant that they would be transmitting their knowledge of the Black Swan Siberian facility back to the United States. If Spitkovsky had a mole or was intercepting communications like they had suspected back in Baghdad, then they’d be handing him their plans.

Spitkovsky would find out that not only was Dom coming to Siberia but also that Dom and the Hunters had scrounged up access to the FGL’s secure lines. That meant Spitkovsky would likely redouble efforts to conceal intel from NATO and the Hunters, making it harder to track the bastards down if this ploy failed.

Dom opened the hatch to the electronics workshop. Thomas gave him a nod, and Meredith smiled at him as he slipped into one of the chairs next to them at the conference table.

Samantha, true to form, continued listening to whatever music blared through the headphones pressing her black hair down. It was a wonder she hadn’t already gone deaf from her religious devotion to loud music. But Dom had since learned not to worry about her unorthodox working habits. If the music helped her work, then he was fine to leave her to her own devices. After all, she had been the one to uncover Lauren’s hidden message to them and subsequently located the Black Swan laboratory.

Dom waited a second to see if Samantha would notice him. She merely stared at her screen, eyes fixed on something there.

“Chao, do you mind?” Dom asked.

“On it,” Chao said. His fingers worked across the keyboard. They’d been through this before. A message popped up on Samantha’s screen. Her eyes went wide, and she pushed herself away from the desk.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Samantha asked.

“I did,” Dom said.

“Well, then, let’s get to it,” Samantha said.

A normal person would have probably apologized. But Dom hadn’t expected it from Samantha. She was a hell of an asset for the team, but her rank discipline would have left something to be desired in the military.

Samantha grabbed one of the laptops from her desk and brought it to the table. She slumped into a seat and popped open the laptop.

“Lines are secure, right?” Meredith asked.

“Physical layer encryption, chaotic signal scrambling, top-notch coded stuff,” Samantha said. “We’ve employed the best we can for satellite comms like this. If Spitkovsky is listening in, I’d almost say he deserves to hear what we have to say.”

“Not exactly what I wanted to hear,” Dom said. “But close enough.”

Meredith looked at him. She had said the best way to communicate with their allies would be a face-to-face meeting. That was the only way they could guarantee any kind of security. But Dom didn’t think they had that kind of time. They should be surveilling their approach into Siberia already, scouting out potential routes into Spitkovsky’s hallowed grounds.

But he had no illusions that the trek to this laboratory would be easy. As well-equipped as the Huntress was, they’d be better off with a little help in gathering intel.

“Then let’s get on with it,” Dom said.

“Now or never is what I always say,” Thomas said, already rolling his unlit cigar between his fingers.

“Initiating connection,” Chao said.

The screen at the front of the room showed a flurry of black and white snow. Lines broke across the screen. Then the image cleared.

Colonel Jacob Shepherd loomed before them. The wrinkles etching outward from the corners of his eyes seemed deeper. Dom noted the dark circles blooming under them.

“Captain Holland,” Shepherd said. “Wondered who was calling us on this line. Somehow, not surprised it was you.”

Samantha had “found” a secured line at Fort Detrick that was supposed to be reserved for emergency calls between the brass.

“We’ve got pressing intel,” Dom said. “We think we’ve located an important laboratory in the FGL’s operations.”

“And you’re requesting our help?” Shepherd asked.

“That’s right.”

“This is not the first FGL lab you’ve discovered and shared with us.”

“It isn’t.”

Dom didn’t like the tone he was getting. Usually Shepherd was an ardent supporter of the Hunters.

“After this lab, then I assume you’ll find another,” Shepherd said.

“This one could be where they’re housing the Halo pill production facilities,” Dom said. “And we have reason to believe they’re performing more bioweapons research there.”

“Same story I’ve been told before,” Shepherd said.

“Our scientists are there, Shepherd,” Dom said. “They’re alive.”

“Dr. Winters and Ghasemi?” Shepherd asked, raising a brow. He leaned into his video cam, growing larger on the screen.

“The same,” Dom said. “Which is why this is a top priority for us.”

Shepherd sighed. “I suppose Spitkovsky wouldn’t drag them to a lab just to keep them imprisoned. They’re working for him?”

“We intercepted an encrypted message from Dr. Winters stating exactly that.”

Shepherd drummed his fingers along the desk and looked down at them. “You’ve got the location of this facility?”

“We think so,” Dom said. “Strange as it sounds, all signs point toward it being at Black Swan Prison. The very prison where Spitkovsky spent his years behind bars after political exile.”

“Fitting,” Shepherd said. “Seems like you all have a thing for visiting prisons.”

“We go where we have to.”

Shepherd leaned back from his desk. “I assume you wouldn’t be calling me with this intel freely. You’re risking a lot just by telling me. So you need something from us.”

“Need is a strong word,” Dom said.

Shepherd grinned at that. “That’s why I like you guys.” The grin faded. “You know I’m dying to get my hands on Halo intel. Really, anything related to the Heikegani Agent at this point.”

“I know it would be a stretch to ask for full aerial support or even getting a SEAL team or two in there, but that could be the difference between taking this facility or ending up like Baghdad.”

“Holland, if I had my way, I’d send half the damn army your way. You’d have a carrier strike group and whatever the hell planes you wanted. You haven’t led me too wrong, and when you have been wrong, you’ve proven you can adapt.”

Dom didn’t like this hesitation. “The only way we beat Spitkovsky is by finding where that rat is hiding and chase him out. From what precious little I’ve heard about Baghdad and Moscow, it sounds like no one can confirm he was even in those cities.”

Shepherd was silent. That meant yes.

“We’ve got to go to Siberia,” Dom continued. “At the very least, that’s where our people are. Spitkovsky wouldn’t be dragging them to some backwater lab without a good reason.”

“Maybe the reason is to drag you all there too,” Shepherd said.

Dom couldn’t argue with that. “Which is why we need your help.”

Shepherd nodded. “Look, I’m going to be honest. I don’t think it’s going to happen. Things here are worse than you probably know. The number of civilians turning into Hybrids continues to rise. Incidences of violence are rising with them. There are rumors that Hybrid armies are being raised right here in our homeland. I’m not sure if they’re true or not, but I do know that base security has been heightened again and again. No matter how much we try to push back the Skulls from our secured zones, they seem to flood back in. We’re practically under siege, and resources are drained from Operation Thunderbolt. The last thing on anyone’s mind is another offensive in a place on the opposite side of the world.”

“Is that a no?” Dom asked.

“It’s not a no. But it’s not a yes,” Shepherd replied. “It’s an ‘I’ll do my best, but don’t get your hopes up.’”

“Understood,” Dom said.

“Whatever you do, keep me updated,” Shepherd said. “The more I know, the more I can use it to leverage support on my end.”

Dom nodded but promised nothing. Sharing intel with their allies nowadays was like pouring water into a leaking kettle. But he didn’t tell Shepherd that. “We’ll be in touch.”

The screen went blank. Samantha and Chao closed their computers.

“I expected a no and hoped for a yes,” Thomas said. “Somehow a maybe is even worse. Not the kind of reaction I expected from Shepherd.”

“He’s not in a position to give us anything,” Meredith said. “Don’t want to say I told you so, but...”

“I’ll be the optimist,” Dom said. “He’s going to do what he can. I have faith in that. Even if that means they can only send a few drones our way for recon, I’ll take it.”

But as much as Dom wanted to be an optimist, Shepherd’s words hung over him like dark clouds before a thunderstorm. The news about bases under siege by Skulls and increased Hybrid numbers didn’t sit well with Dom. He had a feeling that if Shepherd was worried about their resources being stretched thin, General Kinsey was feeling a lot worse about it.

“We going to wait for an answer from them?” Thomas asked.

“No,” Dom said. “Whether they’re in or not, we’re going.”

Meredith’s brows drew together. “If Spitkovsky didn’t expect us in Siberia before, he probably will now. Wouldn’t doubt that he had already intercepted our transmission. We’ll need help more than ever.”

“I think Shepherd’s right and so are you,” Dom said. “Spitkovsky always knew we were going to find out about Siberia. He’s probably waiting for us to make that move.”

“What are you proposing?” Meredith asked.

“We tell Shepherd that we’re going to wait for an answer.” Then Dom grinned. “But we’re going to tell our crew that we’re going in now.”

-4-

Kara sat at the edge of her berth with Sadie next to her. Their feet dangled over the side. Maggie dozed on the deck, gently snoring. A lone light shone over their shoulders, illuminating the biology textbook Sadie had spread out over her legs.

“DNA is first translated to RNA,” Sadie said. She traced a finger along a diagram showing a double helix of DNA being split open as an RNA strand formed from one of the open strands.

“Not quite,” Kara said. “The step of RNA production from DNA is called transcription. Translation is the whole process of proteins being produced from DNA.”

“Transcription,” Sadie said, pressing her index finger on the image. She said the word a few more times as if soaking it in. Then she looked up at Kara. “The Oni Agent was made by a DNA engineer, right?”

Kara nodded. “Yeah, a genetic engineer.”

“So there must be some translation from the DNA in the Oni Agent, too.”

Kara wasn’t thrilled that this was the example Sadie gravitated toward. But it had been the defining theme of their lives since the outbreak. Thoughts of the Oni Agent and its effect on the people they once knew, especially their mother, lingered in the back of Kara’s mind, casting a dark haze over her when she let her guard down.

“The Oni Agent translates proteins that turn people into monsters,” Sadie said. She seemed proud of herself.

“Well, kind of,” Kara said. She didn’t have a great understanding of the Oni Agent, though she’d heard the science team explain it a few times. Most of their technical terms were beyond her high school education and the few college classes she’d sat through. “But what about your DNA? Think about it. In every cell in your body, you’ve got DNA.”

Kara poked her sister’s arm for emphasis.

“All those cells are like little factories keeping you alive and breathing. They pump out the protein that makes your skin elastic and your bones strong.”

“That’s pretty cool when you think about it like that,” Sadie said. “Almost like they’re little computers with their own programs. Kind of like robots!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kara said. “Exactly. That’s what genes do. They’re programmed by nature to determine things like your hair color and eye color and how tall you are. How much you look like your parents.”

“Like how you look more like Dad, and people always say I look like Mom.”

That stung. Mom no longer looked like either of them. She was a Skull rotting away in their house.

“You’re getting it,” Kara said. “You’re way ahead of where I was at your age.”

“Think I’ll be a scientist someday?” Sadie asked. “Maybe I could go to school like you and study biology. Or study to be a scientist like Navid.”

Kara could only hope there was a “someday” for any of them.

Science and education had once been about advancing civilization and developing new technologies to ensure everyone had a fair shot at life. Now it seemed like these ideals no longer existed. Everything she learned, from combat skills with Meredith to engine maintenance with Alden, was just to keep them alive for a little bit longer. Like everything in this world existed purely to make it to the next day. She would love nothing more than to go back to school to learn for learning’s sake.

She shook her head. Man, her thoughts were growing dark. And it didn’t help that every time she had these thoughts, she wanted to talk to someone about them. Someone specific.

Navid.

Kara took the biology book and shut it. She put it on the metal bookshelf secured to the cabin’s wall. “I think we better go to bed. I’ve got to meet Meredith in the gym early then spend the day in the engine room with Alden.”

“Can I come?”

“To the gym, yes. The engine room, no.”

Sadie sighed and slipped out of the bed. She tousled Maggie’s ears. The dog opened one lazy eye, peered at Sadie, then settled back down to sleep.

“Fine,” Sadie said. “I’ll take it. You’re so grumpy since your boyfriend went away.”

Kara gave her sister a sharp look. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“You love him, don’t you?” Sadie asked in her most obnoxious little-sister voice.

Kara tried to ignore Sadie. She grabbed her toothbrush, and her sister did the same. Sadie squeezed too much toothpaste onto hers.

“Come on, Kara. You can tell me. I won’t tell Dad! I promise.”

“That isn’t the point,” Kara said.

“You do!”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do!”

“I like Navid,” Kara admitted. “He’s a good friend.”

“You like him more than as a friend,” Sadie said. She spit a big glob of toothpaste into the sink. “When Dad told you he might be alive, you were crying. I’m not too stupid to know what that means.”

“Then you should know I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sadie put her toothbrush down, rinsed, and then perched on her bed. “You should talk about it, Kara. Meredith tells me it’s healthy to talk about things. We shouldn’t hold it all in.”

“Sadie, you don’t understand.”

“Then tell me why I don’t understand. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Because I don’t want to get my hopes up,” Kara said, her bottom lip trembling. “I don’t want him to be alive and then find out he ended up like... like Mom.”

Sadie sat upright in her bed, leaning against the bulkhead. Kara put her toothbrush away. Her vision went slightly blurry, and she wiped at her eyes to prevent a tear from rolling down her face. She sat back down at the edge of her berth, facing away from Sadie.

She heard the patter of bare feet on the deck. The bed depressed beside her, and a skinny arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Sadie said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Kara let out a long breath. “No, you’re right. I should talk about this kind of stuff. It’s just, I would’ve talked about this stuff with Navid before. Now I have no one.”

“You have me, Kara,” Sadie said, no longer sounding so whiny. “I know I’m just your stupid little sister, but I’m not as stupid or little as before. I promise you, I’ll be a good listener.”

“I believe you.”

“Good,” Sadie said. “Dad told me something once when I was feeling depressed about Mom.”

Kara didn’t know Sadie had talked to their dad about that. It made her realize she’d been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to look beyond the persistent bubbliness that Sadie always seemed to exude. It hurt to know that she’d been suffering.

“What did Dad tell you?” Kara asked, lowering her voice.

“He told me that sometimes we have to hold onto hope. Because that’s all there is. If we let it go, then maybe somebody else will, too. And then everybody will. And if no one hopes for anything, there are no more dreams. So we have to hang onto those dreams and hopes because no one is going to do it for us. And we have to keep going after them. If you hope and dream that Navid is still out there, then you got to keep believing it because no one else will do it for you.”

Kara had a difficult time following Sadie, but she figured her sister was doing her best to relay a difficult topic. “Dad told you all that?”

“He said something about fighting for those dreams too. That it was our responsibility to fight for them.”

Sadie wrapped her fingers tightly around Kara’s arm.

“Navid’s alive,” Sadie said. “So is Dr. Lauren. Dad and the rest of the Hunters are going to bring them back. I just know it.”

Kara smiled at her younger sister. The girl had somehow managed to retain an air of innocence despite being forced to grow up rapidly in this nightmarish new world.

The scars on the side of her face began to burn. She traced a finger along the rough gouges. She vowed she would never let Sadie lose hope, so long as she was alive.

“Thanks, Sadie,” Kara said. “You were right. You’re exactly the person I needed to talk to.”

“I know,” Sadie said. “I’m smart like that.”

***

Nearly two weeks passed in quiet monotony as the Huntress continued its trek through the ocean waters. They didn’t see any FGL forces—or anyone from NATO, either. Dom expected questions from the scattered NATO naval forces still patrolling the oceans. After all, it hadn’t been long ago that Spitkovsky had mustered his own fleet of ghost ships rigged with deadly booby traps, weapons, and hordes of ravenous Skulls.

Dom assumed that the world would be on watch for another invasion. But the Huntress slipped through the dark waves with nary a hail inquiring who they were.

He couldn’t kid himself that the ship’s advanced stealth tech was keeping them from being noticed. They had taken enough damage over the course of the war that they were now no stealthier than a chugging tugboat with a misfiring engine. The Huntress didn’t have the sleek profile it once sported. Puckered sheet metal patched holes they hadn’t had time to properly repair. The sound dampening materials in the hull and decks weren’t easy to come by, especially when all their allies were just as desperate for resources.

They were still sleeker and quieter than the average warship. But only just.

“Another trip around the world,” Thomas said. “Always knew the sea was a tough old broad. Never knew she could be this tough.”

Dom stood next to him on the bridge. They were alone except for the Officer of the Watch, Cliff Slaton. Cliff stared ahead, cold blue eyes matching the color of the sky.

“Aye,” Cliff said. “Used to think a rogue wave was the most dangerous thing I’d be watching for on these waters. Never expected there’d be boats full of living skeletons.”

Thomas’s eyes narrowed as he stared out over the forward bow. “You can say that again.” He plucked a cigar from his chest pocket and stuffed it in the corner of his mouth. “I want to be a carefree old seadog again.”

“Carefree?” Dom raised a brow. “Never knew you to be carefree even before the Oni Agent.”

“It’s all relative,” Thomas said, gesturing with the unlit cigar. “It used to feel like a heart attack coming on every time you all went off on a mission.”

“And now?”

“Think of something worse than a heart attack.”

Dom let out a huff somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “Me, too, old man. Me too.”

“Think this will be the last mission?”

“Hope so,” Dom said. Then he grinned. “I’m getting tired of seeing you with those damn cigars but not smoking them. Doesn’t sit right with me.”

“If Spitkovsky is in Siberia, if that’s where Halo pills are and the rest of the brains of this operation, then maybe I’ll finally light one of these up.”

“You got a spare?”

Thomas kept his eyes on the horizon. “Even if I had only one, I’d still share it with you, Captain.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Dom said.

They stood in silence for a moment, looking out over the sea. “You going to leave me out of this one, too?” Thomas asked.

“You want to go trekking through Siberia?”

Thomas laughed. “No, definitely not. But I want to make sure you all make it back to this damn ship. Got to have someone to smoke this cigar with.”

Dom eyed the cigar. “You know, that thing’s been sitting in your pocket for so long, it’s got to be drier than a Skull’s ass. I’m not sure I actually do want to smoke it.”

“You think I’d waste a good one, carrying it around like this?” Thomas raised one of those gray caterpillar eyebrows. “The good ones are in the humidor under my berth. Keep it in my fireproof safe right next to my passport and Social Security card, too, just to make sure they don’t disappear. I’m no fool, Captain.”

“That’s reassuring.” Dom turned to Cliff. “How long?”

“Before the sun’s kissed the sea, we’ll be within shooting distance.”

“In land-lubber language, that’s about four hours,” Thomas said.

“Good,” Dom said. “Thomas, alert the crew. We’re not wasting any time. Soon as we can take off, we’re leaving.”

“Aye, aye,” Thomas said, dialing into the ship’s comms.

“Cliff, you have the watch,” Dom said.

“Aye, Captain.”

Dom climbed down the ladders back into the warm belly of the ship. The crew was already surging through the passages, faces filled with stoic determination. Everyone knew how much was riding on this mission.

“Dom!” Meredith waved at him, red hair bouncing along the side of her face where it hadn’t been shaved. Sweat coursed down her forehead.

“You just get done with a marathon?” he asked.

She punched him playfully in the shoulder. “Ran all the way up to the bridge to catch you. I’ve got news.”

There could only be one reason why she would’ve wanted to tell him in person. “Shepherd convinced them?”

“Kind of,” Meredith said.

Dom didn’t like what that statement implied.

“Come with me,” she said, taking him by the hand and leading him back toward the workshop. “Won’t take long, but it’s worth every second.”

Soon they were standing in the middle of the workshop. All the screens glowed across the forward bulkhead. Dom’s eyes went wide at the image displayed there. Snow-capped trees covered a rough, ice-strewn landscape. Snowdrifts suffocated the bits of ground that weren’t choked with those tall, coniferous trees. Huge rocks pushed out of the ground, mostly concealed by the snow except for their shadows.

It took a moment for Dom to truly understand what he was looking at. Between the rocks and trees, Dom noticed a wall. It was covered in snowdrifts, making it nearly impossible to discern from the rest of the landscape. Inside those walls, flatter structures poked out of the snow, masked in what Dom now realized were fake trees. Just like the Huntress, this facility could hide in plain sight.

He should’ve expected nothing less from Spitkovsky.

“This is it, then?” Dom asked.

Chao panned around the landscape, zooming out to show the surrounding taiga. Black specks moved between the trees like wolves on the prowl. Dom knew the creatures were apex predators, but he had no illusions they were native to the area. Skulls.

“Matches up with the location of the outgoing messages I tracked,” Samantha said. “I mean, Spitkovsky did a good job of throwing off my bloodhounds. And this complex fooled my image-processing analysis programs for a few runs until I got ‘em right.”

“Spitkovsky can’t hide from you,” Dom said.

Samantha gave Dom her best self-satisfied grin. “Not a person in the world can hide from Samantha Hamlin.”

“How’d you get all these images, anyway?” Dom asked.

“An anonymous benefactor,” Samantha said.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Meredith answered for Samantha. “Came in an anonymized data packet we received. Samantha quarantined it until we could decrypt it.”

“We don’t know who sent it,” Chao said with a shrug.

Dom had a feeling he did. He smiled. “Must’ve been Shepherd. The old dog came through for us.” Then he let his pleased expression drop. “But that must mean he hasn’t had any luck convincing the higher-ups to send reinforcements this way.”

“How do you figure?” Chao asked.

“The man’s smart. If he had opened comms to tell us no help is coming, he would’ve risked Spitkovsky listening in. Then the FGL would know we were coming alone. So, as long as he doesn’t answer us, Spitkovsky will be waiting—just like he suspects we will be. What he won’t expect is for us to act on our own without any support.”

“Those are some pretty good deductions, Sherlock,” Samantha said. She looked at Meredith. “Is this what he was like in his CIA days?”

Meredith nodded. “But he wasn’t always right. Sometimes I had to correct him.”

“You disagree with my assessment?”

“Not disagree,” Meredith said. “Just that it makes a lot of assumptions. I usually like to operate with more intel.”

“Fair enough,” Dom said. “But there’s only one way to find out.”

-5-

The thrum of the SH-60 Seahawk’s engine resonated in Meredith’s body, churning on the adrenaline icing her veins. They flew low, skimming just above the cresting waves to maintain as low a profile as possible. They didn’t want to give themselves away by blazing over the facility in the chopper, which meant they’d have a long hike in the snow ahead of them.

“You know I hate the cold,” Miguel said. “Last thing I want to do is arrive at Spitkovsky’s secret little lair with my toes frozen off. Already lost one limb.” Miguel held up his prosthetic arm. “Don’t need to be losing more because of frostbite.”

“You’ll lose them all if we don’t have the element of surprise,” Dom said. “Spitkovsky might just shoot us out of the sky.”

“Thought you said you didn’t see much in the way of defensive forces around the base,” Miguel said.

“Just because we didn’t see, it doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” Jenna said.

“She’s right,” Dom said. “Only confirmed contacts in the area are Skulls.”

“Spitkovsky probably wants to keep this place as secret as possible,” Meredith said. “Having a bunch of Titans or Chimeras lumbering around between V2 rocket launchers would draw way too much attention.”

“Just like we don’t sail around the world in a strike group of big old carriers and destroyers. Spitkovsky survived this long through a bit of stealth,” Dom said.

Glenn examined the magazine for his SCAR-H then jammed it back home. “Looks like Spitkovsky lost this round of hide-and-seek.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Dom said. “Remember, priority is just figuring out what the hell is going on at Black Swan. If we find Lauren and Navid, we get them out. If we see Spitkovsky, we bring him in alive if possible. If we can’t bring him in alive, no one is going to miss him.”

“Aye, Captain,” Andris said. “I have many gifts for him. And they all involve a big boom.”

“I’m all for big booms,” Meredith said, “but we don’t know what biological agents they might have here. The last thing we want is to cause a secondary epidemic.”

“Ah, yes, logic,” Andris said. “Always ruining my fun.”

“That’s what I live for,” Meredith said.

Frank Battaglia turned back to the passenger cabin. “Badass Airlines beginning our descent. We’re pleased to offer you nonstop flights straight to the world’s worst travel locations. Next time, consider traveling to Hell. It’s a lot warmer and little less dangerous. But since you’ve insisted, we’ll be arriving in the middle of Siberia, where Skulls hunt the native man-eating bears and wolves. The weather looks terrible, with temperatures that’ll immediately freeze the tears you cry because of how godawful the place is.”

“Does he really do this every flight?” Raquel “Jett” Iglesias asked. She was the newest addition to the Hunters. A previous Black Hawk pilot with the army, she’d been forced to go AWOL with the Hunters or face immediate court martial for her role in a foolhardy mission to save their asses in Baghdad.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Meredith said.

“Good,” Jett said. “I kind of like it.”

Frank turned and winked at her.

The Seahawk swept close over the rocky shore. If Meredith squinted, she could see the long gray shapes of two oil tankers. The ships were docked at the end of a pier draped with cranes.

From the satellite images they’d seen, the dockyards appeared abandoned, left to the Skulls climbing lethargically around the place in search of food. Just like the oil fields to the north. Those oil fields lay between the Hunters’ current location and Black Swan. Dom and Meredith guessed the fields and pier were yet another piece of cover for Spitkovsky.

The pier would provide easy nautical access to Spitkovsky’s facility. And given the proximity to the oil fields, large amounts of traffic could be concealed, written off as business related to the oil and gas works that must’ve been in full force here before the outbreak. For all they knew, the oil fields might still be functional, pumping out that black gold to fuel Spitkovsky’s operations.

The Seahawk started to lower to a small opening in the trees, their trunks bent by the harsh winds here. Rotor wash kicked up a wide swath of snow. The wheels of the bird hit the ground with a jolt.

“Sure you don’t want me to bring you a little closer?” Frank said.

“The closer we get, the more we risk Spitkovsky noticing us,” Dom said. “I prefer to stab that guy in the back while he isn’t looking.”

“I can get behind that,” O’Neil growled.

“Quite literally,” Glenn said.

“It’s been a pleasure serving you all on Badass Airlines,” Jett said. “We are your preferred choice servicing Skull-infested territories. In fact, we are your only choice, and we look forward to serving you as return customers.” Then she turned to Frank. “How was that?”

“You’ll get the hang of it eventually.” Frank turned to the Hunters. “Godspeed.”

Meredith stood, bracing herself with the handrail above her head. She pulled open the side door to the chopper. Icy air hit her like she’d run into a brick wall. The insides of her lungs froze.

“Go, go, go!” Dom said.

Meredith leapt out. Her feet sank into the snow. The cold crept through her fatigues and into her flesh. They had been outfitted in all the cold-weather gear aboard the ship, but it didn’t help in this godforsaken place. She trudged away from the chopper, snow and ice clinging to her legs. The others fanned out around her.

The Seahawk rose into the air, leaving them behind. Already, Meredith was beginning to wonder if maybe they should’ve risked flying a little closer.

“Now comes the fun part,” Jenna said.

Meredith looked around at the others, each knee deep in the snow. They wore the same full-face masks and goggles, looking more like bulky robots than anything human.

“Miguel, on point,” Dom said. “Glenn, Andris, rearguard.”

With a hand signal, Dom started them off through the forest. There was little they could do to muffle each crunching step. Thankfully, the wind howling over the rustling trees masked whatever noise they made. They marched northward. Only a few rays of light bled through the snow-covered tree canopy. Snowflakes swirled around them, and the wind seemed to find every crack in what Meredith had thought was weatherproof armor. She could feel goosebumps spreading along her flesh.

They continued on in the darkness of the forest. Everything around them seemed bathed in an eerie quiet, punctuated only by their footsteps and the occasional creak of branches. Shadows played between the tree trunks. Meredith wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her—or if those shadows were something more nefarious.

“You getting anything, O’Neil?” she asked.

O’Neil stuck his face up into the air. “Skulls in the distance. But I don’t detect any Hybrids. No Titans or Chimeras either, thank God.”

“Good,” Meredith said. She recalled the Chimeras had a strange effect on O’Neil. He described it as losing his sixth sense completely. His ability to detect the biological factors in the air churned out by the FGL Hybrids or Skulls disappeared when the Chimeras were near.

They continued on, navigating through the shadows of the trees, over frozen streams, and between rocky outcroppings. For most of the trip, they traveled parallel to a road of sorts. It was covered in at least two feet of snow. The only reason they could tell it was a road was because it was the only straight path through the forest. Occasionally she could even see small poles with flags sticking out of the snow to mark it.

“What’s that?” Jenna asked, pointing.

Meredith swung her SCAR-H up, pressing the stock tight against her shoulder. She swept the rifle muzzle over the darkness, looking for movement.

“Contacts?” Dom asked.

“Negative,” Jenna said. She lowered her rifle and knelt next to a pile of stones near the frozen stream.

Meredith moved in closer. “What is that?”

Jenna wiped away some of the snow to reveal a white statue of an old woman. A beaded necklace was draped over her shoulders, and cans of food lay around the woman’s feet. It looked to Meredith like a pagan idol with food offerings.

“Some kind of religious thing?” Miguel asked, turning to Glenn.

“Why are you looking at me?” he asked.

“Because you’re the one with the answers, Professor,” Miguel said.

“This time, I’ve got none.”

“Then that makes this even creepier,” Miguel said.

“No,” Andris said. He pointed at something. “That makes it even more creepy.”

Meredith followed his finger. A few open cans lay near where he pointed, emptied of their contents. She didn’t find anything particularly weird about the cans themselves.

But then beyond them she noticed the bulge in the snow. A human head poked out of the snowdrift, only a few bits of leathery flesh and hair sticking off it. Andris bent down and brushed snow away to reveal the rest of the skeleton. All its bones were marred with what Meredith could only assume were tooth and claw marks.

“Stay frosty,” Dom said, signaling for them to continue.

Meredith kept her gaze ahead of her, scanning the trees for signs of the Skulls that must be nearby. She couldn’t imagine what that person’s last moments had been like. Clearly, he’d been native to the area, daring to steal food from the offerings left at a shrine. He must’ve been desperate, pushed into the depths of starvation to venture out into the cold. And while he’d found a meal, so had the Skulls.

Rotating her wrist, Meredith shifted her coat sleeve enough to view her smartwatch’s face. They were still several kilometers out from the Black Swan base.

A low growling rolled through the trees, overwhelming even the rush of the wind through the branches. More snow gusted around them, casting the whole place in a ghostly gray screen.

That growling grew to a sustained boom like thunder that never quit. The Hunters pressed on, despite the terrifying noise, until Dom held up a fist to halt them.

Meredith brought up her binos. Ahead stood the skeletal structures of oil derricks rising above the treetops. Black smoke billowed from a couple of them. Skulls rambled around their skeletal structures. Some wore puffy coats and hats, bones sticking out from the fabric. Others had lost every shred of humanity, walking around naked in their bony armor. Spikes jutted out of their joints, and overgrown plates covered their chests and backs. Their shoulder blades spread from their backs like the Skulls were trying to grow demonic wings.

They wandered in circles between the snowdrifts. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their marching. Meredith took that as a good sign. It meant that there might not be any Hybrids directing them from nearby. If the worst they had to face until they made it to Black Swan was a bunch of feral Skulls, Meredith would count herself lucky.

“There’s something ironic about all this,” Miguel said.

“What’s that?” Meredith asked.

“Ironic? You know, it’s like when one thing is the opposite of what you’d expect.”

“All right, Mr. Comedian,” Meredith said.

Miguel faced her. Meredith expected she would see a wide smug grin across his face if it weren’t for the mask. “I kill myself with humor.”

“At least someone thinks you’re funny,” Andris said.

Miguel ignored him and continued. “It’s ironic that this whole thing started on an oil rig. And here we are to finish it, surrounded by derricks once again.”

“Maybe that’s Spitkovsky’s fetish,” Jenna said. “He has a thing for oil.”

“Fetish or not, I don’t want to be a part of it,” Dom said. “Let’s follow the forest around the oil field. Stay low and out of sight of those Skulls. Stick to the shadows.”

They began the slow trek around the oil fields. The din of churning engines and boom of the pumpjacks shook through the trees. Meredith could no longer hear the crunch of her own footsteps. The Skulls likely couldn’t hear them either. They were probably deafened from lingering too long near the oil derricks.

“O’Neil, anything unusual?” Meredith asked, sticking closer to the Hybrid.

He shook his head. “Not sure. I can sense something, but it’s too far to be sure.”

Wind cracked branches. Trees groaned and creaked. Meredith strained her ears to listen to those sounds over the pumpjacks. Had she imagined the sounds of bones rattling against each other, or were actual creatures looming in the darkness? Shadows stretched around them, shifting with the shafts of sunlight penetrating the few openings in the trees. Pine needles shook and branches swayed.

“Anyone got eyes?” Dom asked.

“Negative,” Glenn said.

“Nothing,” O’Neil said.

The Hunters stood still a moment, snow and wind beating against them. The tree branches moved almost as if the trees themselves were reaching toward them. Meredith felt a chill travel down her spine. It wasn’t from the cold.

“Something’s wrong,” Meredith muttered.

She scoped the snowdrifts and tree trunks. Nothing jumped or howled or snapped at them. Then she saw footprints in the snow ahead. So many of them. But the paths disappeared.

Then it clicked.

“They’re above us!” Meredith yelled.

She swung her rifle up. An inhuman scream filled the air with all the unbridled, fiery rage of a beast fueled by only one motive: to devour every living thing in its path. The skeletal monster leapt from the tangle of thick branches, claws scything through the air. Pointed teeth lined its maw. A worm-like tongue flickered around those broken teeth.

If Meredith had not looked up when she did, the talons of that Skull would have shredded her flesh, spilling red blood over the snow. She lunged back so the creature landed harmlessly in the snow, kicking up a wave of white. The beast recovered quickly, peering at Meredith through narrowed eyes. It let out a growl from Meredith’s darkest nightmares.

Then it charged.

-6-

“Colonel, we’ve got a problem,” Vasquez said.

Shepherd nearly jumped from his desk. Vasquez hadn’t knocked. He’d told her long ago that if his door was open, it was meant to be walked through. And more than anyone else on his staff, he trusted her judgment. So when she told him they had a problem, he listened.

“Close the door behind you,” Shepherd said.

Vasquez did as he said, gave him a cursory salute that he returned, and then collapsed into the chair in front of his desk. He eyed her cautiously.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“There are a group of civilians in the gymnasium that are refusing to vacate,” she said. “They’re crying out that it’s unfair to make them move when they aren’t the ones causing problems.”

“Implying the Hybrid civilians are causing problems?” Shepherd asked.

“None that I’m aware of, sir.”

“Do any of these squatters have pressing medical needs as the Hybrid refugees?”

“No, sir.”

“Then it seems to me they’re just being selfish, aren’t they?”

“I would agree, sir,” Vasquez said.

“So then move them forcibly.”

“We considered that, but the optics...”

“Right now, the little PR crisis this is going to cause is nothing compared to the Skulls outside our gates.”

“They’ve got kids. Twenty-five in these particular groups.”

“Christ. And they’re hiding behind these kids like human shields?”

“I don’t think it’s quite so nefarious as that. They’re scared for their kids. We’re planning to move these families out to the chapel. The flu has been going around in that part of the refugee camp for the past week. Unfortunately, we’ve lost a few elderly and some of our younger patients.”

“And the rumors I’ve heard sound even worse than reality.”

“That’s correct, sir,” Vasquez said. “We would’ve removed them already, but we were afraid what the civilians would do. They were looking as rabid as Skulls, and the last thing we want is a civilian death on our hands.”

Shepherd knew what she wasn’t saying. Statistically speaking, one civilian death didn’t mean a whole lot when the United States was already filled with civilians infected by biological weapons. But what that death meant emotionally was so much more. It would be a spark in a drought-ridden forest, starting a blaze that would last for weeks.

The civilians would riot. There would be more death.

“We need to approach this delicately,” Shepherd said.

“Army’s not good at being delicate, sir,” Vasquez said.

Shepherd picked up a photograph on his desk. It held a picture of his father, a Korean War army veteran. A war that had never truly ended by the time the Oni Agent outbreak began. His father had told him that the ground war had become one of attrition—a matter of which side made the least bad decisions.

While the Skulls outside starved, so, too, did the people inside Detrick’s gates and the other secured territories and bases around the United States. He knew the same scenes were playing out around the world.

When historians looked at this little pocket of the war, how many bad decisions would they say he had made? Losing control over Detrick? Expending so many resources to help the Hunters on the other side of the globe? Had he spent too much time focusing purely on failed cures to the Oni Agent instead of a biological weapon like the Tenth Plague that would’ve rid the world of Skulls?

Would whatever he decided today become just another bad decision etched onto his tombstone?

He laughed aloud. Maybe there wouldn’t be any historians to worry about anyway.

“Sir?” Vasquez asked, her brows drawn in concern.

Shepherd placed the frame back down on his desk. He didn’t have time to deal with civilian squabbles. Not when the fate of the world was at stake. But if he didn’t deal with these conflicts, put out these fires before they started, then it wouldn’t matter if they won the larger war.

“We can’t make it look like we’re giving in to their demands or else we’ll get more of them,” Shepherd said. “But I don’t want to be ripping children from these people’s arms to get them to move out of the gym, either. Tell them that they can stay, but the Hybrids are still moving in.”

“Sir, our civilian Hybrid population will take up the whole gym. We don’t have room for all the civilians that want to stay.”

Shepherd absent-mindedly wiped at the smudges of fingerprints on his desk. “I have a feeling when you tell them the Hybrids are moving in, you’ll find many of those civilians will vacate of their own accord. If they do not vacate, tell them we don’t have enough room to fit everyone in there, so we will need to remove the privacy partitions we had around their families. They’ll have to sleep next to Heikegani Agent-infected civilians.”

“And if that doesn’t clear them all out, sir?”

“It’ll clear out most of them,” Shepherd said. “If a few stay, so be it. It’ll be a testing ground for the civilians. Show them that their Hybrid compatriots are just like them. Scared and vulnerable. They want to live in peace just like everyone else. With the help of the Halo pills keeping their Heikegani Agent in control, we should be able to prevent any violent outbursts too. Then maybe people will start getting along with the Hybrids.”

“That’s a lot to hope for, sir,” Vasquez said.

“It is,” Shepherd said. “But in this war, we’ve hoped for more.”

“We have, sir,” she said.

She didn’t stand to leave as he’d expected. Instead, she furrowed her brow like she was considering what to say next.

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the problems here. And I know this is beyond my pay grade, but...”

“Stop speaking in riddles and get on with it.” Shepherd hadn’t meant to sound so short. But patience was an increasingly hot commodity.

“If General Kinsey isn’t planning to investigate the Hunters’ lead on Siberia for a month or more, then isn’t there something else we can do?”

“You don’t think we’ve done enough?” Shepherd asked.

“No, sir,” she said. “I don’t.”

“Good, because neither do I. But frankly, I’m not sure what—or who—we can afford to send.”

“I understand, sir,” Vasquez said. “I’ve been thinking on this problem, too. And I think I may have an idea. I was inspired by the Battle of Dunkirk. Even if Kinsey can’t afford to divert forces from the US to Siberia, I think I know some people who would like to pay back the Hunters. People who would risk their lives to do so.”

“You’ve been thinking this one over for a while, haven’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“You got a plan then?” he asked.

Vasquez smiled. “I do, sir.”

***

Midshipman First Class Rachel Kaufman cradled an M4 rifle as she patrolled the grounds outside Fort Detrick’s outer walls. Another layer of shorter electrified chain-link fences and razor wire lay between them and the remains of Frederick, Maryland. Buildings that had stood through the first stages of the war were now nothing but rubble. Pulverized brick, pipes jutting from the ground like broken bones. Ash everywhere. The scent of charred flesh and burning wood constantly drifted on the wind.

“You miss it, don’t you?” Midshipman Rory Booker asked, gesturing toward the world outside the base. Since the Skulls had first overrun the Naval Academy in Annapolis, he had been with her every step of their tumultuous adventure.

“Is it weird if I say yes?” Rachel asked.

Terrence O’Connor paused next to her, tipping up his helmet as he stared at the gray sky covering the city. “Not at all.”

He was a Hunter, but out of medical necessity he had been transported from the Huntress back to Fort Detrick. The reasons for that emergency trip were the two prosthetic legs he wore.

“I’m getting tired of wandering around, looking for vulnerabilities in the wall,” Terrence said. “We can do much more than that.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Rachel said. “Why aren’t we on more high-value-target missions? I’m sure there are more people Team Jaguar can go rescue.”

“No kidding,” Rory said. Rachel turned to look at him. He didn’t sound quite so enthusiastic as she and Terrence did.

Rachel paused, her boots sinking slightly into the thin layer of snow and ash. “I don’t believe you.”

Rory rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t you guys think it’s nice sleeping in the same bed for a few nights in a row? Waking up and not having to worry about a Skull eating you for breakfast?”

Terrence laughed and patted the midshipman on the back. “Sure, that’s nice, buddy. I’d also like to wake up in a world where I’m just chasing the odd terrorist group around the world instead of running from monsters, but what can you do?”

Rachel pressed her rifle to her shoulder and looked into the ACOG. She traced the illuminated aiming reticle over the few distant buildings that remained standing between splintered trees, searching the broken windows and cracked walls for signs of life. She spotted plenty. Skulls flitting through the shadows, leaving footprints in the debris, and climbing the scree from bombings and artillery fire in search of food.

“Best defense is a good offense,” Rachel said.

“Absolutely,” Terrence said.

“Tell that to Kinsey after Operation Thunderbolt,” Rory said. “Brass says we won in Moscow and Baghdad, but the way they’re acting doesn’t make it seem like that.”

“Warfare is a little more complicated than counting wins and losses,” Terrence said.

Somewhere in the distance, a lone Skull howled. Maybe it had discovered the scraps of some animal or human long dead in the rubble of Frederick.

“We got to do anything we can to win against the FGL,” Rachel said.

That lone Skull continued to howl. Normally, those calls preceded a charge. But the beasts had evidently learned to stay far from the perimeter of Fort Detrick. She was amazed the seemingly mindless creatures had the ability to learn anything, even as simple as staying out of danger. But the Hunters had told her stories of the Skulls adapting to hunt different prey, and she figured this was part of their rudimentary thinking skills.

“I’m ready to do whatever it takes,” Rachel continued. “I don’t know why Shepherd’s got us doing patrols when we can do so much more.”

She expected Terrence to hoot in agreement. Instead, he raised a brow.

“You don’t agree?” she asked.

Terrence gazed over the razor wire to their right as they continued marching around the base.

“It’s not that I agree or disagree,” he said. “But I’ve learned who I can trust. Shepherd is one of those guys. He’s got his reasons, and if he tells us we’re on patrol, he’s got a damn good reason for it. My guess is we just have to be patient.”

Another Skull howled. This time it was answered by a chorus of voices. Their concerted shrieks made Rachel’s insides twist in anticipation.

“I’ve got a feeling the action is going to come to us,” Terrence said.

They marched alongside the inner wall, examining both the larger wall made of Hesco bastions and the razor wire for gaps the Skulls might exploit.

“Then we’ll be ready for it,” Rachel said.

Rory huffed in agreement, but Rachel could tell it was half-hearted. She wanted to give him a kick in the ass. Biting her tongue, she reminded herself of the horrors they’d seen, from being imprisoned in their own country to getting caught in a massive explosion outside Kent Island.

She couldn’t blame him. They’d been through more than enough for a dozen lifetimes. She couldn’t expect him to feel like she did. And when it came down to it, no matter how Rory felt, she knew he was loyal to the bone.

Another sound blared from Frederick. Terrence held up his fist. Rachel dropped into a kneel, shouldering her rifle. The noise was terrifyingly familiar: the bone-chattering roar of a Goliath.

Already, adrenaline pumped through Rachel’s body even though she couldn’t see the beast.

“Eyes?” Terrence asked.

“Negative,” Rory and Rachel said.

They remained there for a moment, waiting for the Goliath’s roars to die down. They didn’t. Instead, the beast’s cries were joined by others. Somewhere within the city, an explosion bloomed. Fire rolled into the sky. Oily black smoke spread in billowing clouds.

The roars never paused. Skulls and Goliaths lent their voices to an unholy chorus that no wall could stop.

“What’s going on?” Rachel asked.

Another explosion shook the air. It hadn’t been from ordnance launched by the troops stationed in Detrick. Maybe it was a pierced gas line or neglected fuel tank. Either way, the commotion seemed only to incite the Skulls who hadn’t yet joined the army of voices.

“I don’t know,” Terrence said as the chorus swelled. He scanned his rifle over the perimeter of the city. Despite the noise, no Skulls showed themselves.

Rachel’s finger hovered near the trigger guard. She heard yells from inside the base and alerts relayed over the comms. This was a bad time to be outside the walls.

Then, as abruptly as the Skulls’ cries had started, they quieted. Silence blanketed the city except for the crackle of fire now chewing through a few more of the buildings, devouring the kindling that the Army had previously missed.

“What in the hell was that?” Rory asked.

“I don’t know,” Rachel said. “But I’m guessing it won’t be long before we find out.”

-7-

Dom spun on his heels, kicking up snow. He brought up his rifle to aim at the Skull launching itself at Meredith. The creature’s claws stretched toward her. Its lips drew back in a vicious snarl. Blood-red eyes pulsed from under cracked bone plates.

Squeezing the trigger, Dom sent a three-round burst into the monster’s flank. Armor-piercing rounds punched through bone, painting the snow red with blood. Bone flecks flew like shrapnel as the beast tumbled, limbs sprawled. But no sooner had it been thrown off course than it recovered, rivulets of crimson tracing the scars in its organic armor. It let out another shriek.

The trees above the Hunters’ heads became alive with an inhuman howling. Dom prayed these voices were muffled by the din of the oil derricks and pumpjacks from the fields to their east. Either way, this needed to end fast before more Skulls became alerted to their presence—or worse, the FGL.

Dom wheeled his rifle around on the first Skull, ready to put a bullet in its head. But another leapt from the branches. It landed in the snow. Ice sprayed from where it hit, pelting Dom. He twisted to fire, but the creature was quicker. The bullets sliced harmlessly through the snow.

The Skull opened its mouth past the limits of normal human anatomy. It looked like a snake preparing to swallow prey. The beast rolled forward, pounding the ground on all fours, kicking up a wake of white behind it, barreling straight at Dom.

Time seemed to slow.

Around Dom, rifle chatter cut into the night. Flashes of muzzle fire to Dom’s right illuminated the scarred face of another Skull as it fell. To his left, chunks of flesh spewed from the exit wounds inflicted by Jenna’s measured shots.

Dom caught the Skull charging him in his sights. The thing hardly looked human. A cowl of bone and spikes circled its head and ran down its spine. Dom aimed the glowing red reticle over the sternum of the creature. Right in its center of mass. Four shots punched through the armor there. Splinters of bone flew. Splashes of red blood belched out of the fresh holes, and fractures spread through the creature’s armor.

It stumbled, and Dom took a few steps backward. He expected the creature to drop face first into the snow. But instead, the Skull let out another gurgling growl. Blood popped from between its crimson-stained fangs, drooling out of the corners of its mouth.

Only meters away, the beast launched itself into the air, claws flashing. Dom squeezed off another burst of shots and sidestepped the living missile. The creature slammed into the snow where Dom had been, landing with a heavy crunch. For good measure, Dom put two shots into the back of its head.

Another Skull shrieked behind him. Dom twisted on his heels and aimed.

“Got it, Chief!” Miguel said before sending a flurry of rounds pounding into the Skull.

Another overhead roar made Dom bring his rifle up. He saw a pair of blood-red eyes emerging from the dark of the tree canopy. A figure more shadow than flesh fell toward him. Around it came a shower of pine needles, broken branches, and falling snow.

Dom fired, but it was too late. The creature slammed against his chest. Air blasted from his lungs, and he fell backward into the snow. His body armor took most of the blow. It also protected his soft innards from the daggerlike claws now flailing against his chest.

Dark, tangled hair twisted from between the crown of horns atop the Skull’s head. Somewhere beyond its demonic mask, Dom could detect the hints of a woman’s features in the narrow nose and heart-shaped face. She might’ve been no more than a hundred and thirty pounds as a human, judging by her build and height.

But with the massive bones bulwarking her petite frame, she was closer to a rhinoceros now. Her talons dug into Dom’s legs, keeping him from kicking out from under her. The snow swallowed them both until Dom could feel rocks pressing sharply against his spine.

Frigid snow encased the sides of his head. The voices of the Hunters and the oil fields became muffled. Blow after blow, the Skull crashed into his chest, refusing to let him have an inch. He thought he heard his name somewhere out there in the skirmish. He did his best to parry the Skull’s blows. Metal clashed against bone as his rifle caught the creature’s claws, preventing them from ripping through his mask.

It was only a matter of time before she landed a lucky blow. The dregs of adrenaline filtering their way through his vessels were no longer enough to fend this beast off.

But there was no way he would let the mission end here.

Navid and Lauren were nearby, waiting for them.

And so, too, he hoped, was Spitkovsky.

Dom twisted his head to the side so that one of the Skull’s claws traveled straight through the snow and into the frozen ground. The abrupt movement threw off the monster’s attacks. Dom wasted no time. He slammed the stock of his rifle into the side of the Skull’s head. Chunks of horn fractured off in a spray of organic shrapnel.

The blow didn’t kill the Skull. But it appeared to dizzy the creature. Dom rose out of the snow, summoning all the strength he had. He felt his muscles strain as he lifted the heavy creature from his body, pushing himself up at the same time. Carried more by momentum than muscle, Dom lifted the creature, his rifle dropping on its harness.

“Captain!” a voice growled to his left. A rasping, unmistakably Hybrid voice. “Here!”

Dom spun. His muscles felt like they were pulling away from the bone as he thrust the Skull forward.

The Skull didn’t have far to fly.

Four bone claws suddenly jutted out of the middle of its neck. The thing flailed for a couple of seconds then went still as crimson flooded its chest, steaming when it hit the snow. O’Neil pushed the Skull off his claws, and the beast slumped forward, slumping into the snow.

Dom had no time to thank him. “Behind you!”

O’Neil ducked. A Skull flew over his head and crashed into the snow. It scrabbled to recover, its eyes never leaving O’Neil. Dom slammed the heel of his boot into the middle of the Skull’s spine, crushing two of the fins sticking out of its vertebrae. Then he plugged four shots straight into the back of the Skull’s head.

One by one, the other Hunters finished off the Skulls that had ambushed them, lashing out with suppressed gunfire.

The snow around them became trampled and stained. The breaths of Hunters and Skulls alike puffed out in frosty clouds. Tendrils of steam rose from the Skulls’ bodies like the escape of long-imprisoned spirits.

No more than a dozen Skulls had assaulted them. A paltry number given the Hunters’ experience with the beasts.

And yet Dom still gave a prayer of thanks when the last one let out a death rattle. Miguel withdrew the knife hidden in his prosthetic from one of the corpses, let that final Skull drop, then flicked his blade clean in the snow.

Glenn joined Dom’s side, catching his breath. He picked up a handful of snow, rubbing it over his gloves to remove some of the congealed blood there.

“They always got new tricks,” he said. “We should’ve learned that by now.”

Glenn was right. They’d gone into this focused only on the Black Swan prison complex that waited for them. Dom had nearly gotten them killed by thinking in two dimensions instead of three. He’d once seen Skulls silently hunting seagulls instead of rushing them while screeching as they usually did. The beasts had the capability to learn even if it wasn’t much more than a new style of hunting.

But of course, hunting was what they did best. It was all they did.

Meredith slid a new magazine into her rifle. “You think we’d learn never to take those damn things for granted.”

“Never expected them to act like monkeys,” Jenna said. “I mean, we all remember the Imps from the Congo. But these things are clearly not monkeys.”

“No one expects monkeys in Siberia,” Dom said. “But we should start expecting polar bears in the jungle and fish in the sky when the FGL are involved.”

He hated letting the team down. Their lives had been at risk because he hadn’t anticipated a simple danger.

“So we got Skulls sitting in bird’s nests now,” Miguel said. “We learn, we adapt. We get ‘em next time.”

Dom nodded. He hoped there would not be a next time. No unexpected surprises. He didn’t mind a tough fight. He didn’t mind running a mission that had odds of success worse than getting struck by lightning twice after winning the lottery.

What he did want was a clear-cut plan, a line of choices that he made to control the situation. Losing that control, having no plan? Might as well fly a plane across the Atlantic without enough fuel and hope he ran into someone halfway.

No, if they were going to succeed tonight, they needed to do better. They couldn’t get sloppy.

Dom looked at the oil fields beyond the tree line. The Skulls among the derricks still meandered without direction. “At least they haven’t noticed. And if they haven’t, I’m hoping the FGL hasn’t either.” He looked around at the trees. The branches above pressed so closely together that they held up a solid roof of snow. No light permeated those branches, making it difficult to see whatever roosted in those shadows until it was too late.

“I can keep watch on the trees,” Jenna offered, gesturing to her scope.

Dom considered having a pair of the Hunters serve as watchers. They could use the thermal targeting capabilities in their rifles’ optics to scan the trees for heat signatures. But that relied on the hope that the snow wouldn’t mask the Skulls’ body heat.

“It’s not safe under the trees,” Dom said. “Even if we’re watching for them, there are too many variables.” He looked back toward the oil fields. “We were lucky, but I don’t know how many times we get to be lucky tonight. Better to play this safe for as long as we can.”

“What’s the plan then, Chief?” Miguel asked.

“We stick to the edge of the oil field, where the trees are sparser,” Dom said. “That means stay low and stay quiet.”

“What if the Skulls see us?” Meredith asked.

“O’Neil, can you help us out in that department?” Dom asked.

O’Neil loomed above the others, covered in both his skeletal armor and the Hunters’ black fatigues and ballistic armor. “So long as the wind remains favorable, should be pretty easy. I’ve managed smaller numbers of Skulls.”

Dom liked the confidence he saw as O’Neil strode to the forefront of their squad. The former SEAL had constantly questioned his role in the team. Now there was no doubt; the man knew he was every bit as much a Hunter as the rest of them.

They traced their way through the woods, glancing frequently up at the trees. Constantly watching the darkness above cost them speed. Dom estimated it would add an extra couple of hours or more to their trip. That in itself wouldn’t normally be an issue since they should still be arriving at the base in the cover of darkness. The real issue was the cold—that creeping, invisible monster slowly eating at their bodies.

The team’s movements were more rigid, forced. Like they were creaky machines, thirsting for oil to move their frozen joints. With each puff of breath that fogged out of their masks, Dom counted the calories they were burning just to keep their bodies from turning to ice. By the time they made it to the base, they might already be exhausted.

They skirted the edges of the oil field. Dom felt the itch of eyes on the back of his neck. The drone of the oil derricks and pumpjacks swelled over them. They clung to the shadows at the edge of the forest, creeping between jutting rocks and snowdrifts.

Every once in a while, they paused, scoping the field. Looking to see if any curious monster was headed their direction.

“Anyone else think it’s spooky as hell that we haven’t seen who is running those damn machines?” Miguel asked over the comm link. He practically had to yell to be heard over the din.

“Most of it is automated,” Glenn said. “No one wants to be out here in this cold if they don’t have to be.”

“Yeah, like us,” Jenna said. “Anyone else actually looking forward to that prison just so we can feel our ass cheeks again?”

“I’m not opposed.” O’Neil grunted.

“That’s the spirit,” Dom said.

The noise of the oil fields began to fade. Once more, they were funneled into the ominous darkness of the forest, traversing the rolling landscape. Dom could no longer feel his toes. His feet felt like dead weights, and his fingers had gotten stiff. The inside of his mask was frozen with perspiration, and he swore little icicles hung from his eyelashes. The weight of the gear in his pack dragged him deep into the snow. It seemed to grow heavier with every step.

Fallen trees and rocky outcroppings lay in their path. They wound between these obstacles, roughly following the path of the frozen stream they’d seen earlier. The whole place was filled with shadows. Even so, Dom swore he saw things in the black. Beasts stalking them.

He felt less like a Hunter and more like a rabbit with a bright orange coat in the middle of the snow. Always looking over his shoulder. Searching the branches. Peering into every nook and cranny.

“Contacts?” he tried.

“Negative,” came the replies.

Always negative. Eventually those last beams of sunlight brave enough to pierce the thick canopy waned. Dom ordered their NVGs on. The murky black-and-green world that appeared before him was no easier to navigate than the one he’d left. A branch broke somewhere behind them. He held up his fist. The Hunters preempted his move, pausing. Glenn and Andris scoped the forest behind them. Jenna and Meredith scanned the tree branches.

Dom held his own breath, listening for another cracking branch or a low growl. He counted the seconds ticking by in rhythm with his beating heart.

A shudder jolted down Dom’s back. It felt as though he had eyes on him from every side. Like the whole forest had come alive and was watching them. Waiting for the exact moment to launch an attack.

The sooner they left these woods, the better.

The whisper of falling snow was all that he heard between the crunch of footsteps in the snow. Time dragged on, long as the forest was deep. They followed a stream for long enough that Dom wondered if it was just one big circle. Maybe they’d already passed that tree and that rock jutting from the ground like a Skull’s spike or that frozen, rotten log.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard a howl. Might have been a wolf. Or it might have been a Skull.

“Look,” Miguel said, pointing at the snow in front of him.

Dom saw huge footprints, each the size of his head, trailed by the scattered prints of Skulls.

“Goliath?” Miguel asked.

Glenn shook his head, lowering his rifle. “No, those are the tracks of a bear.” He pointed to smaller footprints stained red. “By the looks of it, the bear was running from the Skulls.”

That sent another shiver through Dom’s flesh. A predator like that losing its throne atop the food chain. They walked over the tracks, interspersing their own among the creatures’.

“I think I see it, Chief,” Miguel said. He brought his rifle to his shoulder.

“The bear?” Dom asked.

“No,” Miguel said. “Black Swan.”

-8-

Navid’s eyes opened to the piercing light of the lab. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. Exhaustion had taken him once again.

He blinked. The bleariness didn’t seem to clear. His mind was clouded. Not just by sleep, but by thoughts of his sister. His mother. Father. All three of them stuffed in a prison cell here. Wherever here was.

Again, he blinked.

His surroundings came into focus from the blobs of gray and black and brown. He sat at the lab bench next to a PCR machine. A soft yellow light blinked on the front of the machine near where he had inserted his flat plastic well plate. The samples he’d analyzed were done. He took the plate out. It felt so light in his gloved fingers. Nothing but a piece of plastic with a few milliliters of liquid in it.

But it was so much more. It was another brick in the wall for the fortress Spitkovsky was building to protect his troops from the Phoenix Compound. Another step that would lead them to the right formulation to improve the Oni Agent. All the FGL had to do was add this unnamed additive Navid was working on to their production line and, like that, the Phoenix Compound would be rendered ineffective.

Completing this project made Navid physically sick. He threw the well plate away. He was done with those tiny samples. Now he had to massage the data from the PCR machine and computer. He had no doubt they would guide him to the perfect solution.

He had always thrived in his selected field of developing drugs for neurological diseases. He had looked forward to a thriving career in treating Alzheimer’s. Never had Navid dreamed he’d one day use his skills to help a maniacal narcissist with plans of world domination improve a biological weapon capable of enslaving the planet’s population.

He almost laughed.

Almost.

But his sister, Yasamin. Her eyes full of terror and pain. The scars on his mother’s face, and the bruised and bloodied visage of his father. Although he’d only seen them in a video, the image of his captive family was seared on his brain.

Navid wondered if he’d ever laugh again. Ever feel anything but simmering anger, fear, and the determination to save his family. All he had to do was survive. Keep making progress so the FGL would stay satisfied. As long as he did that, his family would live.

He looked over at Sokolov. The Hybrid scientist was buried deep in his own work. The glow of the computer monitor cast his bony face in a blue light. Near him was Lauren, her hair tied back. Her skin looked a sickly yellow.

Navid held his own hands in front of him. His brown skin had turned tawny, yellowing like Lauren’s. He tucked his chin against his neck, his matted beard pressing against his skin. He wanted so badly to shave it off. To take a shower. Some animal comfort.

But then thoughts of his family returned.

They’re depending on you, he thought. Your pain is nothing compared to theirs.

His fingers moved mindlessly over the keyboard. He needed to begin his data analysis. Slowly, the numbers came together. The graphs on the screen showed peaks in all the right places. Navid’s work was proceeding as planned. Better than planned, even.

Then he heard the footsteps. He closed out of the program, then reopened another file. One where he hadn’t made so much progress.

“What is this, boy?” Sokolov asked.

Navid had long since learned not to answer. Sokolov knew what he was looking at. The man was a Hybrid, but he had also been a talented scientist before his transformation.

“Do you know what it is?” Sokolov asked again. He narrowed his scaled eyelids. Green mucus leaked from the Hybrid’s nostrils, and viscous tears budded at the corners of his reddened eyes. “This isn’t good enough.”

Sokolov yanked out the small tablet PC from his lab coat pocket. He tapped on the screen a couple of times until Navid’s family appeared there again. After another press of a button, he said something in Russian. Those words meant his family was about to be punished.

“No,” Navid cried. “Please, no.”

He grasped at Sokolov’s lab coat. The Hybrid jerked free, slapping at his fingers. Sokolov’s claws cut through Navid’s disposable gloves, shredding them. Blood appeared in the fresh lines in his flesh.

“Please, please, don’t,” Navid said. “I am working as hard as I can.”

“I don’t believe you,” Sokolov said.

Navid fell to his knees in front of Sokolov. The Hybrid kicked him away. The blow was nothing compared to the shrieks he heard from Sokolov’s tablet. His family was pleading for the Hybrid to leave them alone. He heard his mother asking what they had done.

You’ve done nothing, Navid wanted to tell her. Tears rolled down his face. He pressed his palms into his eyes.

“Get to work,” Sokolov said.

His taloned feet tapped away. Navid forced himself to stand. He could still hear the yells coming from Sokolov’s computer. Even as the Hybrid fell into a seat, suffering from one of his frequent bloody coughing fits, the sounds of Navid’s family asking for Allah’s forgiveness filled the lab.

Lauren looked at Navid. Her eyes were filled with pity. She stood in front of a lab bench, her arm in a cast. She mouthed two words Navid could clearly make out: “I’m sorry.”

He turned away.

She had promised that the Hunters would rescue them. But his family was suffering now. The way he saw it, whether he complied or not, the FGL would pursue the research he was developing. The only difference was whether his family would survive.

So he went to work, sifting between all the chemical samples he had on hand from the FGL. From the various drugs to the biological weapons like the Tenth Plague and Pacifist Fog and samples of the Oni Agent.

He knew what he needed to do now. It was just a matter of time before he finished this project.

And then...

Then he could save his family.

***

Lauren hated watching Navid suffer. The young scientist had given up so much to help her develop the Phoenix Compound and then the Pacifist Fog and Tenth Plague when they were at Frankfurt. She had pushed him beyond what he thought his limits were. And he had excelled, despite the nagging self-doubt she saw in him like so many young researchers. The classic imposter complex common in graduate students and scientists worldwide.

It always seemed that the most successful students Lauren worked with were those who doubted most in their own abilities. They were always questioning if they belonged in a room full of other scientific experts. All the while, not knowing that the experts wondered the same things about themselves.

She chalked it up to the fact that those who were the brightest were often the most aware of one cruel fact of life: the more you know, the more you realize you don’t know.

Maybe it had been a mistake to push such a young man so hard. To make him responsible for the future of the human race.

God, of course he was going to crack. And now was the worst time for it.

“How is your work, Winters?” Sokolov hissed, drawing near.

Lauren put down her pipettes and stared at the one-millimeter centrifuge tubes lined up neatly in their racks.

“Progressing,” Lauren said. “But it’s going slower with...”

She held up her broken wrist. Pain pulsed through her injury. But she couldn’t have asked for a better excuse for delaying her progress.

“That is not an adequate reason,” Sokolov said.

He turned away. At first Lauren thought it was because his lecture was over. Maybe he was finally leaving them alone.

Instead, he held up his palm and coughed into it until he’d sprayed mucus and blood over his bony hands. He wiped them on his lab coat, then faced her again.

“You aren’t working toward your capacity either.” He traced a claw terrifyingly close to her hand on the lab bench. The claw left a slight groove. “Unfortunately, we don’t have a family to convince you to work faster. We have only you.”

His hand shot out like a viper. Those claws wrapped around her cast, digging in. Pain radiated from her freshly set bones. She bit her lip to refrain from yelping.

“I’m doing the best I can,” Lauren said.

That was, of course, an absolute lie. She could’ve finished her Pacifist Fog neutralizing agent by now if she had really wanted to. But there was no way she was going to manufacture a weapon for the FGL.

She just prayed that the Hunters would be here soon.

“You are a liar,” Sokolov hissed through his broken fangs. He opened his mouth to say something else.

Instead, the door to the lab slammed open. Four Hybrid guards in black fatigues rushed in, weapons aimed around the room as if they were expecting a firefight.

Sokolov released Lauren and backed away, looking like a beaten dog.

What in the hell is going on? Lauren wondered.

The entire room seemed to drop ten degrees as a huge figure ducked under the doorframe. He wore a thick black fur coat that reminded her of an imposing Russian oligarch. A Russian military-style Ushanka hat was pulled tight over his head, and he wore a black mask as if he’d just come out of the cold. Despite the heavy winter clothing, Lauren recognized him instantly.

Spitkovsky had returned.

“Sokolov, what are you doing to my toys?” the huge man asked.

His voice had an undercurrent of a growl to it. More vicious than Lauren had remembered. Spitkovsky sauntered past his escort and loomed over Sokolov. The Hybrid scientist shrank, sniveling, blood dripping from his nose.

“You destroy my toys, I destroy everything you hold dear,” Spitkovsky said.

The threat might as well have been a dagger to Sokolov’s side judging by the way the Hybrid flinched.

Spitkovsky cranked Sokolov’s head so the Hybrid couldn’t avoid the towering Russian’s gaze. “You are alive because I let you live. Each day you breathe is a gift from me.”

That was a terrifying revelation to Lauren. Sokolov wasn’t working out of blind loyalty to the FGL. Maybe he was an indentured servant, just like her.

Could that knowledge be useful? She tried to stow it in the back of her mind. But as soon as she did, those searching eyes of Spitkovsky’s found hers. He walked toward her. Each step was accompanied by its own blast of muffled thunder. The air seemed to crackle.

Shivers flushed up and down Lauren’s body.

“You are quite the specimen,” Spitkovsky said. He wore thick black gloves made from the hide of some animal. He traced a finger up her sternum and then to her nose. Then his eyes fell on her cast. “It is too bad someone hurt you.”

Lauren said nothing, her body screaming at her to back away. She wished she could be brave. But she couldn’t control her body. She could barely control her thoughts.

“I wish you would work harder, though. I am promised that you will.” He looked at Sokolov then back at her. “We will make you. Because where we’re going, we will need your little inventions.”

Where was he going? Lauren wondered.

He sat down on a stool near Lauren. It groaned under his weight. Sighing, Spitkovsky pulled off his gloves. Lauren nearly gasped. Each of his fingers ended in curved yellow hooks. Claws.

She thought Spitkovsky’s eyes had been red before when he broke her arm. But she hadn’t realized he’d been doing this to himself.

“You... you’re... a Hybrid,” Lauren stammered.

Spitkovsky laughed. “You understand nothing.” He leaned close to her until she could see the broken blood vessels in his eyes. “You would do well to remember this.”

“I will,” Lauren said. She wasn’t sure why she said it. Just that her mind screamed at her there was no other option. Acquiesce to this monster of a man or risk death. What else could she do?

“You have less time than you think, Dr. Winters,” Spitkovsky said. “Because I will tell you this: when we get ahold of your friends, they will pay for all of your sins. And if you are still alive to watch it, I will ensure you get to enjoy every miserable second of it. My son and I will have so very much fun.”

Those words made Lauren rock backward. His son. Was Sokolov his son? Or was there someone else? She was so confused. Good Lord, was there no end to the depths of this man’s evil?

Spitkovsky turned away from her. Finally, she felt the ice in her veins start to melt.

To her right, she noticed Navid studying Spitkovsky. There was a hot anger she had never seen in him since he’d begun working for the FGL. She promptly turned away lest one of the Hybrids or Spitkovsky notice it, too.

Spitkovsky returned to Sokolov. They conversed briefly in Russian, with Sokolov practically bowing to Spitkovsky. Finally, the huge man left with his Hybrid bodyguards.

The door to the lab closed with a slam.

When she was a child, Lauren had once experienced a tornado firsthand. It had leveled most of the town she’d grown up in. Flattened the school and many of the houses. The stores and restaurants her family loved had been turned to splinters and scree. She had never forgotten what it was like to witness the strength of a natural disaster. Of knowing just how helpless she was in a world that could erase her in a matter of seconds.

Now she felt it again.

-9-

Colonel Shepherd sat down at the conference table in the CIC. Someone had already put a steaming cup of coffee in front of his seat.

Thank you, kind stranger, he thought. Whoever had done it was getting a commendation. Right now, he needed that caffeine more than they could know.

No one else had yet appeared in the CIC.

If you’re on time, you’re late. Early, you’re on time.

The old adage had always served his time at Detrick well, and even when the apocalypse was upon them, there was no excuse for tardiness.

He rotated his wrist and glanced at his watch. Five minutes until everyone was supposed to be here.

Strange. Usually Vasquez was the first person at meetings like this. Not him.

His heart started to beat a little faster. He had long since learned that when something didn’t seem right, it wasn’t.

Putting his coffee back down on the table, he stood up from the table. He reached the door and pulled the handle. As soon as the door opened a crack, he heard the commotion. A gaggle of comm officers was gathered around several of the monitors. Amongst them was Vasquez.

“What the hell’s going on?” Shepherd asked as he rushed out of the conference room.

Vasquez didn’t even turn away from the screen. “There was some kind of accident in the gymnasium.”

“And no one contacted me?”

“It didn’t seem like a big deal until just now. I was about to call you.”

Shepherd gave her a look he hoped unraveled any excuses.

Vasquez held up both her hands. “This is happening just now. Right as we speak.”

Shepherd looked at the monitors. Several of the human families had stubbornly chosen to stay in the gymnasium as they moved the Hybrid civilians in. Now the humans looked as if they’d circled their wagons in a corner of the gym. The adults appeared to be yelling at the Hybrids. They brandished makeshift weapons—fire extinguishers and the broken-off legs of their cots. The Hybrids didn’t need weapons.

“Somebody explain this,” Shepherd said.

An electric tremor of excitement passed in the voices of those around him, all murmuring their thoughts and shock at the situation. But no one acted as if they had heard his order.

Shepherd sensed that this could be the spark that lit the dumpster fire waiting to consume Detrick from the inside.

“Someone tell me what’s going on!”

This time there was a hush. The officers glanced at each other, but none of them spoke up.

Vasquez finally answered. “We really don’t know what started it. All we heard was the yelling.”

Shepherd looked between his people and the screens. It was close to midnight. He was supposed to be having a closed-door meeting about a confidential mission, and instead the civilians on base were trying to start a riot.

“Take me to the gym,” Shepherd said, looking at Vasquez. “Now.”

She hesitated. “I’m not sure you want to—”

“I’m sure. I’m not letting whatever this is destroy everything we’ve worked for. Get me an escort and get me to that gym.”

Vasquez picked up a radio. “Command here. Need an escort for the colonel. Over.”

“The rest of you, get back to work. Monitor the situation and keep me apprised if anything happens before I get there.”

The officers obliged, shifting away from the cluster of monitors and back to their respective workstations. Shepherd left the CIC and started down the hall.

In the middle of the hall, Terrence O’Connor appeared. “Uh, Colonel?” He eyed the other men and women passing by them. “Don’t we have that briefing?”

“Delayed for now,” Shepherd said. “I’ll catch up with you after I deal with a little problem some of the civvies are causing.”

“Should I stick around here?”

“The easier it is for me to find you, the better,” Shepherd said.

“You got it,” Terrence said. He started to walk toward the CIC then paused, turning back around. “You need my help with this little problem?”

Shepherd considered that for a moment. He had big plans for Terrence and the rest of Team Jaguar. But those plans would have to wait anyway. Terrence had been out in the field against feral Skulls, Hybrids, and all manner of other monsters. Surely he could handle a dispute between civilians.

Shepherd saw Terrence still had his rifle strapped over his back. Just like a dutiful soldier. “Might not be a bad idea to have you tag along.”

Together, they exited HQ. Shepherd expected his usual escort of a pair of Army privates to take him to the gym. Instead, four marines stood in front of him.

“Master Sergeant Kowalski, sir,” the lead marine said. “We’ve been told to provide you escort.”

The marines brought them to a Humvee, and they filed inside. Somewhere, a siren blared.

“Ambulance?” Terrence asked.

“That’s what we’re hearing,” Kowalski said, pointing to the radio on the front dash. One of the marines had the headset pressed to his ear.

When Shepherd had left the CIC, there hadn’t been any reports of injuries. What the hell had happened in those few seconds?

The marine driving kept the Humvee moving at a brisk pace. Another ambulance blasted past.

Shepherd was beginning to wonder if going to that gym was a good idea. No, he knew it was. A leader did not lead anonymously from behind a computer monitor, sitting cozy in the CIC. Hell, when Detrick had first fallen, Colonel Steven White had done just that, and he’d still died in the fallout.

The Humvee screeched to a halt.

“We’re here,” Kowalski said. He leapt out of the front passenger seat. The other three marines quickly formed a ring around Shepherd and Terrence.

All around them, civilians milled about, drawn to the chaos. Other military police personnel waved at them to back up, yelling about the curfew.

One of the civilians turned to Shepherd.

“What’s going on, Colonel?” the portly civilian yelled. Kowalski had to push the man back.

Another woman with a ragged haircut scowled at them. “We deserve to know!”

“We can’t live like this!” Another man yelled, trying to push past Kowalski.

The marine blocked the civilian with his barrel chest. “You need to step back.”

“Our lives are at stake! You can’t hide from us!” another woman yelled, this one holding a crying baby.

“We need to move before this blows,” Terrence whispered.

Shepherd paused even as the marines tried to usher him forward. He turned to the four civilians that had addressed him. Others began to mass behind them like a horde of zombies, all eyes on Shepherd.

“Please remain calm,” Shepherd said. “We have control of the situation.”

One of the ladies started yelling frantically at him. A marine stepped in front of her, commanding her to step back.

“Tell us what’s going on!” a man bellowed.

“As soon as we can, I’ll let every single one of you know,” Shepherd continued, ignoring the scattered jeers from the crowd. “You are doing no favors for yourselves and us by staying out here, though. We cannot protect you if you do not follow the guidelines we’ve set out for this base.”

“Screw that!” someone shouted. “You and your goons are no better than the Gestapo!”

It took everything in him to remain cool at that moment. As calmly as he could, he said, “If you don’t like the way things work here at Fort Detrick, you are welcome to walk back out those front gates in the morning. We won’t hold you back.”

With that, he spun on his heels, ignoring the volley of demands slung from the crowd. While a multitude of voices rose in his wake, he noticed at least half the crowd began to disperse. Those would be the more rational ones; the ones that understood how to take a second to think.

Most of the others would grow bored and go home soon enough. But it would take just a few shouting voices to whip the civilians at Detrick into a riot.

“This way, sir,” Kowalski said, pushing open the door to the building.

The sounds of angry voices rolled over them like a tidal wave as they jogged toward the gymnasium.

“You sure you want to go in there?” Terrence asked.

Shepherd pushed open the door. “Nope. But it’s too late now.”

He marched into the center of the gym with the marines and Terrence at his side. They didn’t quite shoulder their rifles, but they weren’t leaving their weapons dangling by their sides either. Already, the MPs had segregated the families of healthy humans and setup a makeshift barricade of tables between themselves and the Hybrid civilians.

It appeared that the MPs were more concerned about protecting the people from the Hybrids. Shepherd already didn’t like those optics. It was another human-versus-Hybrid situation. Both sides were yelling at each other. Amid those voices, Shepherd thought he heard mournful wailing.

His heart sank when he saw the medics working on a pair of bodies in the middle of the gym with the MPS forming a ring around them.

A pair of medics lifted one of the stretchers onto its wheels and began to push it out. Strapped into the stretcher was a man with gashes along his side. His shirt had been shredded to reveal wounds glistening with fresh blood. The man moaned as the medics moved him away. On the other stretcher lay a Hybrid. Blood stained his armored chest. A long slit had been carved into the fleshy part of his neck. Unlike the other patient groaning in pain, this one wasn’t uttering a sound.

“What happened here?” Shepherd asked, looking between the MPs.

“We broke up a fight,” one of the MPs said. “Had to make an arrest.”

“An arrest?” Shepherd looked around. Then he saw her. A Hybrid with long blond hair, hands zip-tied behind her back. Tears streaked down her face, and her claws were stained red.

“My husband,” she sobbed. “They took my husband. They killed him.”

Two of the MPs forced the Hybrid woman to her feet. They started to take her out.

“Hold on,” Shepherd said.

“Sir, we’ve got to take her in.” One of the MPs nodded toward the injured man now disappearing out the door with the medics. “She attacked that man.”

“Is what she said true?” Shepherd asked.

“Yes, the victim and her husband got in some kind of altercation,” the MP said. “We’re not sure who started it or why yet.”

“And that man killed her husband,” Shepherd said. “Is that true?”

“It is,” the MP said. “We’ve still got to take her in. Heard from the medics the victim might not make it.”

Shepherd looked between the crying Hybrid woman and the MP. The law was the law. He could already see whose side he was supposed to believe in this instance. But the whole base was watching now. He had to do things the right way. To let justice run its course.

The woman continued to sob, guarded by the MPs. Hybrids gathered along the barricade. Most were quiet, watching Shepherd. Some lobbed insults at the human civilians screaming from the other side of the room.

Shepherd ignored them and knelt next to the woman. “What’s your name?”

“Lisa... Lisa Caldwell.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Why?” she asked. “You’ve already made your judgment. Throw me in a cell. Forget about me, just like the rest of us. Locking us away in here because we’re monsters now.”

Shepherd let her continue until she began to sob again. He put a hand on her shoulder. She stopped sobbing and looked at him. Uncertainty painted her eyes.

“Lisa,” Shepherd said. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss. I’ve never lost a partner—never had one—but I’ve lost too many friends and family. I know this pain is unbearable right now, and I won’t pretend to tell you it gets better.”

Lisa’s nostrils flared, the bone plates crunching together. Her lips moved like she was trying to say something. Shepherd waited. But she said nothing.

“Tell me what happened, please,” Shepherd said.

“That man...” she began, tears budding in her eyes again. She wiped her clawed hand over them. “He was insulting my husband. Telling us we were all monsters. That we deserved to go straight to the hell we belonged in. I told Mark—”

“That’s your husband?”

She nodded. “I told Mark not to say anything back. To ignore him. But Mark didn’t listen. They got in an argument. Next thing I knew, that man stomped across the gym, straight up to Mark, pulled out a knife, and then... then...”

She broke down again. Shepherd kept his hand on her shoulder, not daring to remove it.

When she was able to pull herself together again, she took a deep breath. “I couldn’t help myself. When I saw Mark collapse, bleeding like that, I jumped between them. What else could I do? He was going in to stab Mark again. I thought I could save him. I thought I could... but I failed.” Lisa looked up at Shepherd. “We are monsters, aren’t we?”

“No,” Shepherd said. “We’re all desperate people trying to live.”

“Mark didn’t hurt that man,” she said. “It wasn’t his fault. You’ve got to believe me.”

“I do,” Shepherd said.

“Are they going to take me away now?”

“They are,” Shepherd said. “They have to. It’s our law. It’s all we’ve got.”

“I’m not ready to die,” Lisa cried.

“There will be justice,” Shepherd said. “I’m not going to lie to you. These next few days are going to be hard. But I’ll do everything I can to make sure justice is served.”

“Justice...”

“I promise,” Shepherd said. “I hate to do this, but I have a tremendous favor to ask of you.”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “Now?”

“There’s no other time. Everyone in this base is going to be watching. They’re going to be choosing sides. The cards are stacked against anyone suffering from the Heikegani Agent. People are going to be scrutinizing your every move. They think Hybrids are violent and crazy. Barely different than the Skulls. I want you to prove them wrong for me. You think you can do that?”

“I’ll do what I can,” Lisa said, sounding thoroughly resigned.

“You have to,” Shepherd said. “I know it isn’t fair, but the fate of the rest of the Hybrids here might rely on your decisions now. I will do everything in my power to prevent this powder keg from blowing, but it won’t be me everyone’s watching. It’ll be you, understand?”

She nodded. Shepherd stood, his eyes never leaving her as the MPs took her away.

“I believe her,” Terrence said. “Her husband didn’t start this. That other guy, he brought a knife to the fight. From what the people around here were saying, that man was looking for trouble.”

“You won’t find any disagreement from me,” Shepherd said. “But the Hybrids don’t need to bring a weapon to the fight. They’ve already got them. That’s all people are going to see after this. Even if she was in the right, that won’t stop the rumors.”

“We’re going to have our hands full,” Terrence said. “Sure you want me to take off with Jaguar?”

The yells and roars rose to a crescendo as the two sides yelled at each other. Kowalski was giving Shepherd a look that said they needed to get the hell out of there now.

Shepherd looked at Terrence. “Now, more than ever, I need you to take off.”

-10-

Meredith dropped to her belly and crawled forward. She peered over a snowdrift. The Siberian pines rustled with the wind kicking around the crest of the hill. Distant mountains succumbed to the fog of blowing snow. But the Hunters were close enough to Black Swan now that Meredith could make out what Miguel was pointing at.

“There,” Miguel said.

Meredith pulled back the sleeve of her coat. The wind traced over her thermal shirt. Even with the shirt’s protection, the cold was so intense it felt as if her skin was burning. The small map on her smartwatch matched with the location Miguel indicated.

“That’s it?” Andris said, lying on his belly near Meredith.

“Unless you see another prison nearby,” Glenn said, “I’m going to say yes.”

“Crazy what a little snow will do,” Meredith said.

They had all seen the satellite images of the base that Shepherd had sent. But those had been from a couple days ago. They had clearly seen the razor wire littering the ground around the huge cement walls towering over the inner structure of the prison.

Now the snow in the middle of the valley seemed to have wiped Black Swan away. The walls were nearly invisible, and the central structures of the complex had disappeared under a blanket of white.

“I guess that makes it easier to get over the walls,” Miguel said.

O’Neil laughed. “Come on, man. You saw all that razor wire before. You want to go marching over the snow and run up against that shit?”

“He’s right,” Dom said. “Don’t know how thick the snow is from here or how well it’ll hold us. Last thing we want is to get stuck in the snow with our ankles tied up in razor wire.”

“Then how are we getting in there?” Miguel asked.

“I have that covered.” Meredith tapped on her smartwatch. Another point illuminated on the map, matching up with where a river allegedly lay under all that ice. She hit another button that transmitted that same point to the rest of the team.

“Hold up,” Miguel said. “How’s hiking over a river any better than razor wire? What if the river isn’t as frozen as we think?”

“In this weather, nothing in Siberia isn’t frozen,” Meredith said. “There’s a good four months before the first thaw.”

“Still...” Miguel said.

“We’ll be fine,” Meredith said. “Our route takes us along the river bank. No need to break out your ice skates.”

“Ah, but I love ice skating,” Andris said.

“You’re on your own,” O’Neil growled.

Dom rose to both his feet, still standing hunched behind a tree. “Everyone ready?”

“Aye, Captain,” came the replies.

All except for Jenna. “Just to clarify, where exactly are we going? This route takes us away from the base, not into it. I don’t see a dock or something down there that would lead from the river into the base.”

Meredith pushed herself up to kneel beside the fallen tree she was sheltered behind. “Where we’re headed, things usually go out. Not in.”

Andris’s breath puffed out of his mask as he strapped his rifle back over his neck. “What do you mean by this?”

“It’s the ass of the prison,” Miguel said. “We’re going straight up the shit shooter.”

“Shit shooter?” Andris started to shake his head. “Ah, this is no good. I do not like being cold, and I do not like wading in sewers.”

Dom threw a hand signal, and Miguel started to advance down the hill, clinging to the darkness of the forest.

“You were there with us in Iran,” Dom said. “Had no problem taking the sewers then.”

“That was before the apocalypse,” Andris said. “My standards are higher now.”

“Man, do I have news for you about the state of public infrastructure,” Glenn said.

For the rest of their advance, they flitted silent as ghosts through the forest, leapfrogging between snowdrifts and trees and rocks. Silence suffocated them, leaving them with only the slightest crunch of snow to let Meredith know anyone else around her was alive. She kept her eyes on the base, always watching for movement. She braced herself, expecting gunshots to explode around them or alarms to shatter the still night. The closer they got to the edge of the river, the more Meredith expected something, anything, to happen.

“Where are they?” Meredith whispered to Dom.

“My guess is they never expected this place to be found.”

“Like the Congo,” Meredith said.

The base they had found in the Congo, back when they’d discovered the Titans, was much like this. From the surface, no one would ever guess it was an advanced scientific compound housing some of the most frightening technological advancements that man had ever known. Most of it had been underground, a complicated structure full of laboratories and soldiers.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Spitkovsky put up that fight in Moscow and Baghdad because he wanted us to think those places mattered more than they did,” Meredith said. “But I’m still surprised there aren’t more soldiers here.”

“He was willing to give up all those armies to trick us,” O’Neil said.

“I don’t think it was much of a sacrifice to him,” Dom said.

Meredith peered around a tree trunk, scoping out the next thick set of trees.

“True,” she said. “Spitkovsky’s armies have always been expendable. They’re merely conduits for his real weapons.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Dom said.

“Either way, I imagine once we get inside, things are going to get a lot tougher,” Meredith said. “Just like the Congo.”

Soon they were at the point of the riverbank where the entrance to the prison’s waste drainage system should be. The only thing that stood between them and the mouth of the sewer was several feet of snow.

There was a time that Meredith had once thought a light dusting of snow was romantic. The perfect weather to curl up and read a good book with the fireplace going, curtains pulled back to reveal a peaceful scene. Back at Langley, those moments had been few and far between, but a girl could dream...

Or at least, that had been the dream once. Now, as she helped the rest of the team dig through snow, fistful after fistful, any romantic notions that she’d once harbored disappeared. Meredith’s gloves were little protection from the sopping cold. Soon, her fingers went numb.

“Found it!” Jenna announced.

Meredith breathed a sigh of relief. Then she saw all Jenna had uncovered was a patch of concrete. “That’s not the entrance.”

“No, but the entrance has to be attached to this, right?” Jenna asked.

“I hope so,” Andris said. “Or else I will lose all of my fingers to frostbite. Then who will make the explosions?”

“Quit bitching and keep digging,” Meredith said.

Andris shot her a look. She had no idea if he was feigning a hurt expression or grinning behind that mask. But he got right back to digging. Jenna’s discovery kept them on the right path, and soon they uncovered a wide tunnel encased in cracked concrete. The tunnel itself was just big enough for them to walk through it at a hunch, and they would have to advance one at a time. They filed in at Dom’s command.

“Just glad it’s mostly frozen,” Jenna said, testing her feet out on the muck-colored ice at the sewer’s mouth.

“For now,” Glenn said. “I’m sure that story’s going to change inside.”

“Gate here,” Miguel said, pausing.

Meredith peered over Andris’s shoulder. Ahead, Miguel had his fingers wrapped around the rusted iron bars.

“I can’t Hulk my way through this,” Miguel said.

“Do not worry,” Andris said. “I’ve got it.”

Andris set thermite charges where the bars met the concrete. He detonated them with a muffled pop that echoed through the tunnel. Tendrils of smoke drifted off the sites as Andris pulled the broken bars away.

“We are clear,” he said.

“Hold on,” Meredith said. Somewhere down the tunnel, she thought she heard clicking. Maybe just a light tapping. Probably just an echo. “Anyone else hear that?”

“Yeah,” Miguel said. “Sounds kind of like water dripping to me. Maybe nothing.”

“Assume the worst nowadays,” Dom said.

“Turn back?” Miguel asked.

“Never,” Dom said. “We’re finishing what we started.”

***

Navid stared at the computer screen. Another hour in the lab had passed. Another PCR experiment done. He had no concept of day or night anymore. But at least the damn PCR machine had a timer. That little progress bar telling him how much time before the computer chirped at him was all he had.

He tried to make sense of the results.

The FGL wanted him to develop a delivery mechanism that would block the Phoenix Compound from ever making it through the blood–brain barrier, destroying the prions that the Oni Agent nanobacteria produced.

A task he was especially suited for. One the FGL had knowingly chosen him for.

Navid blinked. He manipulated the numbers from the PCR machine in the spreadsheet file he’d created to analyze them. It took him thirty minutes of putting the right experimental cycle threshold values into the right spots.

Holy shit, he thought when he’d finished. I did it.

Everything had gone as he’d planned. His heart thumped. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he looked across the lab.

Sokolov was seated at the edge of his cot. Blood dripped out of the Hybrid’s nostrils. His eyes looked glazed over as he stared into nothingness.

Something was definitely wrong with him. And he seemed to have gotten worse after those two visits from Spitkovsky.

Lauren was at the cell culture hoods, no doubt testing her own laboratory-grade bioweapons. If she wasn’t so focused in the hood, Navid would be tempted to say something to her. She appeared to be having a hard time holding the cell culture dishes with her arm in a cast. Distracting her would probably end up with half the cell media spilled over the stainless-steel surface of the flow hood.

For now, he would say nothing. Better to stay quiet than to let either of them know of the project’s development.

Only when pressed would he say anything more to Sokolov. Only when he knew his family’s lives depended on it. He sat back down on a stool near the computer. Next to him lay glass bottles. By now, he’d figured out what all the mystery chemicals were that the FGL had provided him. It hadn’t been hard when he’d had some time to analyze them with nuclear magnetic resonance spectroscopy in one of the offshoot rooms in the lab.

They’d given him samples of the Phoenix Compound, along with components that he’d used in the Tenth Plague and other pharmaceutical compounds to deliver drugs through the blood–brain barrier. It had given him a lot to play with. And of course, they’d given both him and Lauren active samples of both the Oni and Heikegani Agents. After all, it was the only way to truly test what they’d been working on.

He picked up a thumb-sized glass vial. Bringing it to eye level, he peered inside. The contents looked innocuous enough. But this was it. Specially made for the FGL. He hated himself for making something like this compound, but he had no choice. Especially with his family’s lives on the line.

And when he’d seen Spitkovsky come down here not once but twice, he knew he should go ahead with his work. He had to keep forging ahead.

He glanced at Sokolov. The Hybrid’s eyes were still narrowed, peering ahead at something only he could see. Navid looked between the Hybrid and Lauren. He started to back away from the lab bench, moving toward Lauren. Sokolov didn’t even turn his head.

Now or never, Navid figured.

He made his way to Lauren.

“I’m done,” Navid whispered, his eyes on Sokolov.

“What?” Lauren nearly jumped from her seat at the bench. “You can’t give it to Sokolov. You can’t. They’re coming. I know they are.”

“Don’t worry,” Navid said. “It’s not what—”

The door to the lab slammed open. Six Hybrids swarmed in, all wearing tactical gear, rifle muzzles scanning the room. Navid backed into the cell culture hood. Lauren dropped the cell culture dish she was holding. Pink media rolled over the workspace inside the hood. Behind all the Hybrids came the hulking form of Spitkovsky. Like before, he was cloaked in black, looking more like some monstrous ogre than the human Navid had known Spitkovsky as before.

Sokolov jumped up. Two of the Hybrids charged him and pressed him against a wall.

Navid rushed to his lab bench. He might only have one chance. His eyes locked on the vial of clear liquid he’d been holding only moments before. In that vial, he had distilled all the most potent elements of the Tenth Plague, enough active ingredients to make a Drooler’s acid feel like a warm bubble bath.

He could end this now. Prevent Spitkovsky from ever sabotaging the Phoenix Compound. But the Hybrids hit Navid first. He flew backward, head cracking against a lab bench. His vision swam. Pain weltered through his skull.

“Secure them,” Spitkovsky roared, his voice gravelly and beast-like.

The Hybrids yanked Lauren away from the lab bench. She yelped in pain when she fell off the stool and slammed spine-first into the tiled floor. One of the Hybrids grabbed her by her broken arm and dragged her over to Navid. She whimpered, face contorted by agony.

They weren’t done with the doctor. The Hybrids yanked Lauren’s arms behind her back. Navid heard a sickening pop, and Lauren screamed in pain until one of the Hybrids clamped his claws over her mouth. Judging by the bulge in her shoulder, her arm had been forced out of the socket.

When the Hybrids grabbed Navid’s arms, he was ready. He did his best to stay loose as they cranked his arms behind his back. That didn’t stop it from feeling like the tendons were going to tear from his muscles.

“We have very little time,” Spitkovsky said. “Things are moving much faster than anticipated.”

His Russian accent seemed stronger and his voice far more animalistic. The gravelly part of Spitkovsky’s voice could be explained away by the evident changes in him over the past couple of days. Navid thought he must be turning himself into some kind of super-Hybrid. But the accent, the way he talked... the first time Spitkovsky had come down here, clearly all human, Navid didn’t recall him speaking with such a thick, muddied accent.

Maybe whatever Spitkovsky was doing to his body was affecting his brain.

“You two are useless,” Spitkovsky said. “Time is up. I am not satisfied with your progress.”

He nodded at the Hybrids holding Navid and Lauren. Navid felt an immense pressure on his shoulders. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, held in a crumpled kneeling position.

“Fortunately for you, your role is over,” Spitkovsky said, leaning close to Navid. “Our scientists have followed your progress. To them, this is a game of chess, and they have seen the next moves even before you could.”

Spitkovsky drew back. Beyond the eyeholes of his mask, dark yellowed bone plates crept over his skin.

“You know what to do,” Spitkovsky said, twirling his finger in the air.

The Hybrids shoved Lauren and Navid toward the rear of the lab. They forced them onto stools and tied their ankles to the stool legs.

Navid watched as the remaining Hybrids talked in Russian to Sokolov. The Hybrid scientist merely nodded, his eyes watering and limbs quaking.

“Stay strong,” Lauren said, her eyes catching Navid.

Navid wanted to say, “You, too,” but their captors pulled cloths tight around their mouths. The cloth dug into the corners of Navid’s lips as the Hybrid tied it into place.

Then came the blindfold. Finally, the claws let go of him. He heard scurried tapping then the sounds of doors slamming.

Everything went quiet. The lights dimmed.

Lauren whimpered.

Navid didn’t know what was going on. Couldn’t help his friend.

All he could do was wait.

-11-

Dom followed the sounds of the other Hunters creeping through the frozen waste drainage pipe. Between the scuffles of their shoes on the ice and the whistle of wind cutting through the tight tunnel, he heard that strange clicking sound that had gotten their attention before.

“Anyone got eyes?” Dom asked.

“Negative,” Miguel said, still on point.

“Same here,” Glenn said from rearguard.

“Doesn’t really sound like Skulls,” Jenna said.

“It’s not Skulls,” O’Neil said. “I can’t smell them.”

“You got a read on anything?” Dom asked. His neck began to ache from walking bent over for so long.

“The scent of Hybrids is getting strong,” O’Neil said. “Don’t think they’re actually down here. My guess is just that we’re getting closer to the fortress.”

“Your guess is probably right,” Meredith said. She tapped on her smartwatch, and it lit up. “We should be right under the interior walls in about twenty feet.”

The clicking seemed to grow louder with every step they took.

“You sure about there being no Skulls in here?” Andris asked.

“Positive,” O’Neil said. “Can’t make any promises that there isn’t something else in here with us.”

“Great to hear,” Miguel said. “If you hear me scream, everyone else just turn around and run.”

“I would not leave you, brother,” Andris said.

“That’s my man,” Miguel began.

“I would take your magazines first,” Andris said. “Because if something is making you scream, then I will need a lot of bullets.”

“We’re under the wall now,” Meredith said.

“Quiet, here on out,” Dom said. “Ears open, eyes open.”

They pushed through until the clicking suddenly stopped. Dom froze in place, listening for a growl or shriek. Instead, something let out a long hiss. Rifles went up in concert. Dom was no exception. He held his breath.

The hissing continued, growing louder. Instead of a Skull appearing, a white fog rolled toward them.

“What the hell is that?” Miguel asked.

“Back up,” Dom ordered. “Go, go, go!”

They scuttled backward as fast as they could. But before they made it more than a half dozen steps, the hissing started from behind them. Another cloud of white enveloped their retreat.

There was no escape.

“Captain?” Jenna asked.

Dom’s heart thudded loudly, and his vision blurred. They would die down here before the mission even started. Even Andris’s explosives weren’t going to blow them out of this mess.

Before Dom could say or do anything else, the fog swallowed them. Dom closed his eyes. He waited for his skin to burn or to start vomiting as the fog crawled through his nostrils into his lungs and permeated his skin, finding his bloodstream. He felt Jenna behind him, fumbling and unsure, undoubtedly with her own eyes pressed closed. Without a word, they continued backward.

Dom prayed they might find the end to this fog. But without opening his eyes, he had no idea if they were clear or not. His lungs screamed at him for breath. He felt his mind starting to lose itself.

Just keep moving, he thought. Get clear of this stuff.

Then he heard a voice.

“It’s... it’s not tear gas.”

Glenn.

“I had to take a breath,” he said. “It’s not caustic either.”

Eventually Dom had no choice but to open his mouth and suck down a breath. It was either that or knock himself unconscious. When he did, he opened his eyes. The white fog still clouded the air. But it didn’t have much of a taste to it.

It didn’t make his skin itch or his eyes water. In fact, it was actually warm.

“It’s steam,” Miguel said. “Just steam.”

Jenna laughed. “God damn. Must be water runoff or something.”

Dom wasn’t so sure. “Makes sense coming from the side of the base. But the gas behind us?”

Glenn pressed a hand over the ceiling of the tunnel. “There are smaller ports all along the length of this pipe. Could’ve been plumbing dumped into the far end, too.”

“I hope you’re right,” Dom said. “But if anyone starts feeling funny, say something.”

He briefly thought about turning around. But they had a several-hour march back to a place where they could safely be picked up. If whatever they’d been breathing was going to kill them while they were still on this mission, it would certainly kill them on that march back.

“Take care of yourselves,” Dom said, “so we can take care of Spitkovsky.”

“Aye, Captain,” came the voices in the tunnel.

They pushed through the fog at a brisk pace, quick to recover the ground they’d lost from their retreat. Soon they reached a rectangular chamber. A manhole lay above them next to a ladder. Several more pipes branched out around them. The chamber was tall enough for Dom to stand. He stretched out his limbs and motioned for the others to gather around the ladder.

This was it. According to the map on the smartwatch, they were near one of the guard posts. The only intel they had on this place besides the satellite images Shepherd had given them were old architectural drawings that Meredith and Samantha had scrounged up. By now, the place probably looked vastly different, but it was the best they could do.

“Miguel, scope it out,” Dom said.

Miguel strapped his rifle over his back then climbed up the ladder. Tentacles of the white fog still clung to him. Miguel reached into his pack and drew out a fiber-optic snake camera. He slowly pushed up the manhole cover until he could slip the snake through.

With one hand, Miguel operated the camera as he held his other wrist out to monitor his smartwatch. Nearly a minute went by before he retracted the camera.

“Nothing up there but snow and a couple buildings,” he said. “From the looks of things, we’re inside the inner walls like Meredith said. Saw some lights on near the northern side of the complex. Rest of the buildings are dark.”

“Perfect,” Dom said. “Let’s go!”

They rushed out of the manhole, and then Glenn replaced the cover. Dom signaled for them to file up against the wall of the nearest building. Snow swirled through the air.

As Miguel had promised, a wall nearly fifteen feet high stood on one side of them. A guard tower loomed above it. At its foot stood a square building, mostly covered in snow, where the old guard barracks were supposed to be. A path had been dug in the snow from that building toward the one they stood next to now.

Dom saw no footprints. Not from humans or Skulls. He was reassured that the barracks matched the architectural schematics. If that held true, then beyond the wall he was pressing his back to, they would find the maintenance corridor. Dom hoped it would provide them the routes they needed to scout out the prison’s labs and, hopefully, lead them to Navid and Lauren.

With a hand signal, Dom directed Andris and Miguel over to a nearby door. O’Neil covered them, rifle at the ready. Just like in the Congo, there was an electronic security pad. Miguel placed a transmitter on the device then clicked a button on his smartwatch to let Chao and Samantha know it was in place. They would be watching the stream from the Huntress.

“On it,” Chao reported over the comm link.

A few seconds later, the keypad went dark. A heavy thud sounded inside the door. Miguel wrapped his fingers around the handle.

Dom began his countdown.

Three.

This was it.

Two.

He sucked in a deep breath, preparing to hoist his rifle up.

One.

Miguel pushed open the door. The Hunters flooded in like water.

Dom had only a fraction of a second to survey the room in the dim yellow lights dangling overhead. Two dark shapes lurched forward. One let out a gasp, evidently surprised by the sudden appearance of masked people in the base.

Miguel swung the stock of his rifle into the head of the first man. Dom locked his rifle around the neck of the other. He pulled the man backward. The man reached for a pistol holstered at his hip. Dom tried to kick at his hand, but he risked losing his grip on the guy’s neck. An errant yell now by an FGL guard would draw the whole base down on them.

The man’s fingers wrapped around the handle of the pistol, and he began to draw it.

Meredith smashed her boot against the guard’s wrist. An audible snap preceded the sound of the pistol clattering over the floor. Dom tightened his grip. The man flailed and kicked. But his resistance grew weaker until finally his limbs went still.

Miguel’s target, too, had gone silent. The rest of the Hunters brandished their rifles, peering down the quiet halls.

So far, so good, Dom thought.

A door to their right stood open, letting out the blue glow of computer monitors. He nodded toward it. Andris and O’Neil went through. Dom heard a crash, then a brief scuffle.

O’Neil came back out. His claws were covered in blood. He wiped them on his pants, then signaled for the others to come in. Inside were two more FGL guards, now sprawled over the floor. A pool of blood grew between them, soaking under their toppled chairs. Three computer monitors sat on the desk. Two showed generic desktops with programs labeled in Russian. The other showed various black-and-white camera feeds.

Dom signaled for Andris and Glenn to come forward. They were the only members of the team with Russian language proficiency. The rest of the Hunters dragged the two FGL soldiers from the hall and piled them next to the other dead guards.

Miguel brought the door closed, leaving a crack for him to peer through.

Glenn bent over the computer, studying the desktop icons. Andris scrolled through a couple of open documents.

“Can we plug this in?” Dom asked, holding up a flash drive from his pocket.

“Should be able to,” Glenn said.

Dom clicked it into a USB slot on the front of one of the PCs.

“Huntress, Dom here. We’ve got our Trojan horse in place.”

“Confirmed on our end,” Samantha said. “Let me just crack their security.”

A few quiet seconds passed.

Miguel turned away from the door and to Dom. He held up three fingers. That meant three FGL guards strolling down the hall toward them. Miguel pulled down his mask. He didn’t look too worried.

“Urgent?” Dom asked.

“They don’t look to be in any hurry,” Miguel whispered. “Rifles still over their backs.”

Dom hoped it stayed that way. The footsteps grew closer, louder. Their click-clacking across the tiled floor made it clear these weren’t any normal guards. That was the sound of taloned footsteps. Hybrids.

O’Neil sniffed the air. “They don’t seem worried,” he said in a low, growling voice.

The footsteps grew louder until Dom guessed the Hybrids were just outside the room. Suddenly, they stopped. Low Russian voices filtered through the door.

Dom held his breath. Maybe it was from breathing in all that cold air, but the back of his throat started to itch. He felt an incredibly inconvenient urge to cough at that moment. Clamping his mouth shut, he counted down the seconds, his eyes beginning to water.

Then the Russian voices quieted. One of their radios barked to life.

The tap of talons on the floor exploded. Dom’s finger slid over the trigger guard, and he peered down his optics. But instead of the door slamming open, the footsteps scattered away from them.

“Clear,” Miguel finally said. He looked toward Andris. “What the hell was that all about, bro?”

“They were talking about going outside,” Andris said. “But then someone called that off. Told them they were needed immediately in the research lab.”

“Lab?” Dom asked. “Any chance they said anything about our people?”

“Nothing,” Andris said.

“Damn,” Dom said. He looked at the first two computer monitors. Nothing had changed on the screens, but he imagined Samantha and Chao working behind the scenes. If there was anything worthwhile on the network, his tech wizards would find it.

“Updates?” he asked.

“We’re uploading updated base schematics to your smartwatches now,” Samantha said. “Looks like we’re about to get security access protocols so we can get you through any door.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Dom said. “How much longer?”

“Really hard to say,” Samantha said. “There isn’t exactly a progress bar for hacking, you know?”

Dom had only a rough idea of how anything worked with Samantha. But he trusted her. “Whatever you say.”

“Hey, look at this,” Andris said. He was bent over the third monitor. It automatically switched between different views provided by closed-circuit television cameras.

Dom followed his finger. Several of the feeds showed prison cells. Some held Skulls that threw themselves into the metal bars. Others contained humans. Dom could only imagine their alleged crimes against the FGL. Long hallways stretched through some of the views. Guards periodically walked down them. Outdoor images showed trees bending under the weight of the snow and wind.

The one Andris had singled out showed a laboratory. Glassware lined the shelves and equipment sat on lab benches, not unlike the machines outfitting the Huntress.

“That’s got to be it.” Dom glanced at the numbers on the corner of the image. B-216. Then he scrolled through the schematics of the base. Sure enough, he found the room that matched with B-216. “Glenn, can you translate?”

Dom transferred the image to Glenn’s smartwatch.

“Laboratory,” Glenn said. “Looks like the bigger rooms are also some kind of labs.”

“Then I’d put my money on Navid and Lauren being down there,” Dom said. “As soon as Samantha clears us, that’s where we’re headed. We’ll keep our eyes out for Halo pill manufacturing methods as well. If we can rescue our friends and get that data, then this mission will be a success. But Lauren and Navid are the priority.”

“And Spitkovsky, if he’s here?” Meredith asked.

“We’ll take him in, dead or alive. Just frosting on the cake.” Dom spoke over the comm link again. “How’s it going on your end, Huntress?”

“About like taking a hike through a swamp,” Samantha said. “Security here is a mess. That doesn’t make it any easier or harder. Just longer to wade through.”

“So we aren’t cleared yet?”

“Not unless you found some keys.”

“Didn’t find anything when I searched the bodies,” Meredith said.

“Yeah, uh, most of these doors I’m seeing are actually locked via keypads,” Samantha said. “Need the code, not a keycard or an actual key.”

“Should’ve asked that guy before you tore out his neck,” Miguel said to O’Neil, gesturing toward the guard who’d bled out over the floor.

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” O’Neil muttered.

A buzz of muffled static filled the room.

“What the hell was that?” Jenna asked.

“This guy!” Meredith said. She bent over one of the guards they’d taken out in the hallway. The radio on his hip blinked with a red light.

Static turned to Russian voices.

“They’re asking for a status update,” Andris translated.

The voice came over the radio again when there was no response.

“They really want that update,” Andris said.

Dom’s stomach dropped. “Samantha, we’re going to need to move quickly. What can you do for us?”

“Nothing that I’m not already doing, Captain,” she replied. “I think we might be getting this untangled, but... damn. Never mind.”

The voice came back over the radio, sharper now.

“They are asking if he is drunk again,” Andris said. “If so, he is going to get his ass kicked.”

“Too late for that,” Miguel added.

More voices sounded from down the hall. Dom cursed under his breath. They could run. But even if they made it out of sight, what were the chances that the massacre in this monitoring station would go unnoticed?

Either way, things were about to devolve faster than Dom had planned. They had no choice. They had to move.

“Chief?” Miguel asked, looking at Dom.

He signaled for everyone to gather at the door again. “To the labs. Let’s go get our friends.”

-12-

The Russians screamed at them. Meredith assumed they were ordering the Hunters to halt. But she didn’t have time to ask Andris or Glenn for a translation. Instead, she spun on her heels, bringing her rifle up. She dropped into a kneeling position and fired on instinct.

Miguel wasn’t more than a fraction of a second behind her. Rounds lanced from their suppressed rifles, slamming into the trio of guards. Two of them went down immediately. One clutched his stomach. The other grasped at his throat, collapsing to his knees.

The third was reaching for a rifle strapped over his back.

Meredith adjusted her aim and made sure he never got it. He fell to the floor, sprawling out next to the other two.

“Hide them?” Miguel asked as the rest of the Hunters filed out in the hall.

Meredith glanced at the three bodies. Blood trickled from their wounds, rolling toward the Hunters.

“Unless we can clean up all the blood, too,” Meredith said, “I don’t think it’s going to help.”

“She’s right,” Dom said. “Cover’s going to be blown. We need to get this done fast. Meredith, you take Bravo with Andris and O’Neil. Head to room B-216 and start the search for Lauren and Navid. I’ll take Alpha with Miguel, Jenna, and Glenn. We’ll dig for any traces of the Halo pills. Miguel, take us down to the lab level.”

“My pleasure,” Miguel said.

He started off down the hallway toward where the guards had come from. Meredith stuck close to him, rifle shouldered. They cleared each door as they went. Most were dark, no signs of life beyond. While they ensured each doorway was clear, they maintained their speed, rushing toward a stairwell at the end of the hall.

Meredith tasted something coppery. Almost like she had just sprinted a mile. She was breathing normally for the most part, but something itched at the back of her throat. Maybe it was something in the air, but she didn’t have time to figure it out.

Miguel paused at the top of the stairwell, peering down the space beyond. She covered him. Andris hovered over her shoulder.

“All clear,” Miguel reported.

They rushed down the stairs.

The itching in Meredith’s throat grew worse. It felt as if she was over-exerting herself, but she was in better shape than that. Maybe she was having an allergic reaction to all the dust and steam that had been kicked up in the sewer. No doubt the long exposure to the cold hadn’t helped.

Maybe she was just coming down with something. Of course, she wanted to believe it was just a normal bug. Not anything more nefarious. But the knowledge of where they were was not far from her thoughts.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. Two doors led in opposite directions. Each was locked by a keypad.

“Samantha, now would be a great time to have the base’s security figured out,” Meredith said.

Glenn and Jenna pointed their rifles up the stairs. Distant voices echoed down the passages up there.

“Think I’m close,” Samantha said. “But you’ve got to give me a minute.”

“Oh, hell no,” O’Neil said, standing straight, rifle pointed toward the passage they’d come from.

“What’s going on?” Dom asked.

“Skulls... or something like Skulls.”

“Something like Skulls?” Glenn asked.

“Smells like Skulls, but different,” O’Neil said. “These chemicals or pheromones or whatever taste different.”

“I don’t like the sounds of that, bro,” Miguel said.

“Samantha, we could really use some help,” Meredith said.

“Don’t I know it,” she said. “Pounding an energy drink just for you guys. Doing all I can.”

The voices from upstairs grew louder. Something else sounded amid the voices. Growling and snapping. Then an animalistic howl.

“That’s definitely not a normal Skull,” Jenna said. “It sounds even more inhuman.”

“Glenn, Jenna, Meredith, O’Neil, engage as soon as whatever that is gets down here,” Dom said. “Andris and Miguel, if Samantha can’t get this door open, I need you two.”

“You got it, Captain,” Andris said. He reached into his tac vest and began assembling an explosive device that Meredith assumed would blow out the door’s locking mechanism.

The growling and snapping from above grew louder. Meredith took a step to the side to get a better view of the passage at the top of the stairs.

“They’re here,” O’Neil said through gritted teeth.

A moment later, the first beast showed itself. It wasn’t a Skull or Hybrid, just like O’Neil had said. The monster careened down the stairs on all fours. Between the spikes jutting from its spine grew ragged gray fur. Eyes glared, blood-red, at Meredith, and the beast’s nose scrunched in a vicious snarl. Long, scything fangs protruded from a mouth spitting ropes of saliva. It charged forward on paws that ended in six-inch claws.

Meredith was face-to-face with what was either a small wolf or large dog turned Skull.

Three more of the beasts exploded over the edge of the stairs, teeth bared, claws headed straight for the Hunters.

With a stab of regret for the innocent animals turned into weapons, Meredith opened fire.

***

Kara wiped her fingers with a cloth, doing her best to clean off the oil.

“Good job today,” Alden said, taking off his earmuffs. He peered into the thick glass window of the hatch leading back to the engine room. “Give us another couple of months, and we’ll have her good as new.”

“Couple of months seems like an eternity,” Kara said.

“I know what you mean,” Alden said. “It’s unpredictable as hell. We might be coasting at sea one day and then under assault by rabid Hybrid pirates the next.”

“Never get a break in the apocalypse.” Kara set the rag down on a bench near the lockers outside the engine room.

Alden smiled, hanging up the earmuffs and zipping out of his coveralls. “You sound like your father.”

Kara placed her coveralls next to Alden’s. It felt good to get out of the heavy canvas garments. Her whole body felt lighter in the shorts and T-shirt she wore under the protective clothes.

“I’ve heard that before,” she said. “Hope it’s a good thing.”

“I wouldn’t be on this ship if it weren’t.”

Kara liked hearing that her father’s crew had faith in him. Growing up, she’d thought her father had a boring career. There had been no clue that he was actually a spy-turned-mercenary who hunted terrorists across the globe. He had been mostly absent from her life for many years. And now, she understood why. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about her or Sadie. Rather, it was because of them that he’d pursued a career like this.

He and his crew were thankless protectors, scouting out bioweapons around the world before they had a chance to do serious harm. They worked in dangerous conditions, risking their lives, all to save people like her from ever knowing what kind of nightmares existed in the labs of corrupted governments and twisted madmen.

The Oni Agent outbreak had finally shed light on just what kind of insanity humanity was capable of inflicting on itself.

“You sure everything’s good in there?” Kara asked, nodding toward the engine room.

Part of her wished that something would go wrong with the machines—nothing serious but requiring her full attention. It was a great distraction from the reality she faced. Now she had to wait in the gym or her quarters, desperate to hear some news of the mission and simultaneously dreading that news. It was like this every time.

And Alden knew.

“You’re worried about them,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“I imagine your sister is, too.”

Kara sighed, understanding the implication. “I know. You’re right.”

She started toward the hatch to the upper decks.

“The engines will be here when you get back,” Alden said. “Go take care of what’s important.”

With that, Kara climbed the ladders up to her quarters. She knocked on the hatch, then opened it. “Sadie?”

Light from the passage chased away the darkness. No one was there. No one—and no dog.

“Where’d they go?” Kara asked aloud.

She closed the hatch. Sadie usually didn’t stray too far from her usual haunts. Likely she’d taken Maggie to the cargo hold. The hold was roomy enough for Sadie to play fetch with the golden retriever.

Sadie spent most of her time with the dog while their father was away on missions. Maggie was to Sadie what the engine room was to Kara.

A few crew members rushed by Kara as she made her way to the cargo hold. She watched them for some clues as to how the Siberia mission was going, but they said nothing. They seemed to be in a hurry, but that was always true aboard the Huntress.

She continued on to the cargo hold. No one was there, and all but the dull yellow safety lights were switched off.

To be sure, she called out into the shadows.

“Sadie? Maggie?”

Nothing. Weird.

She wandered the passages, checking the corridors outside the electronics workshop to see if Sadie might be trying to overhear what was going on inside. Sadie wasn’t there, either. She wasn’t in the mess or the heads. Neither of them was supposed to be on the outer deck while they were off the coast like this, but she snuck up the ladders and went outside anyway.

A freezing wind slammed into her, immediately sending Kara into a storm of shivers.

“Sadie, you better not be out here,” she grumbled.

Darkness surrounded her. All the deck lights were off to prevent anyone from seeing them in the distance. The sky was choked by clouds so only a few stars glimmered through. She could barely see the crests of waves reflecting the meager moonlight as they slapped against the hull of the Huntress, gently rocking it. She made a quick lap around the deck, cursing all the while.

But again, Sadie wasn’t there.

“Where are you?” Kara said, climbing back into the belly of the ship.

Her heartbeat started to pulse louder in her ears. Usually, Sadie wasn’t this hard to find. The girl didn’t just run off or hide. And Maggie wasn’t a stealthy dog. Kara could always hear the dog’s nails tapping along the deck a mile away, not to mention the playful barks whenever she greeted someone on the crew.

“Come on, Sadie...”

She started to run down the passages then turned a corner. She slammed into someone.

“Whoa, there. What’s got you racing around like a greyhound on a sugar high?”

“Frank!” Kara said. “Have you seen Sadie?”

Frank raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Can’t say I have. Of course, I’ve been prepping the bird with Jett for the pickup.”

“You’re leaving to get them now?”

“Not yet,” Frank said. “We’re just on standby. Bird’s already refueled and good to go. We’ve got one more load of ammunition for the door gunners, then we’re done. Need some help?”

“The ship’s not that big of a place. I’ll find her.”

Frank grinned. “That’s not what I asked. I would be happy to lend a hand. Ship’s bigger than it seems sometimes. Tell me where you already looked.”

Kara did, trying not to sound panicked. Frank always seemed a bit goofy to her, but whenever it came down to it, he’d been the one to save her father’s and the rest of the team’s lives over and over. Even something as small as finding her sister on the ship, Frank seemed willing to act as both a calming presence and ready to help. She was probably being silly worrying about her sister like this, but Frank took it as seriously as she did. For that she was thankful.

When she finished listing the places and telling Frank it wasn’t like Sadie to just disappear, Frank said, “You still got the medical bay, the gym, all the other crew quarters, storage closets... lots to look through. Maybe she’s taking a snooze somewhere or trying to pull a fast one on you.”

She frowned. “Guess you’re right.”

“‘Course I am. Let me take this last load out, and then I’ll help. Jett will pitch in, too.”

“Thanks, Frank,” Kara said.

He gave her a brief salute then started down the passage. “I’m headed to the armory. If she’s suiting up to defend herself, I’ll let you know.”

Kara went over the list of places Frank had mentioned. She hated that she was so frazzled. She must’ve seemed like a nutcase to Frank. Sadie was around here somewhere. It wasn’t like she’d jumped overboard.

Oh God. What if she had? What if she had been playing with Maggie and she’d tripped, falling right over the gunwale?

Maggie probably would’ve jumped in after her, thinking she could save her.

The water would be so cold.

Kara was starting to feel sick. She really was making herself go crazy. But she wouldn’t feel better until she finally found Sadie and that damn golden retriever.

Maybe this was just paranoia creeping in thanks to her father’s mission. She was driven half mad from worry for him already, and it was seeping into the rest of her thoughts.

She tried to slow her pace, restricting herself to a brisk walk as she made her way down the corridor. She peeked into the open hatches of the other crew quarters. She felt a little weird looking into their spaces, but any concern she felt was overwhelmed with concern for her sister.

Frank’s words wrapped around her mind, circling like vultures over her thoughts. Something he’d said stuck out to her. She considered all the places Sadie would be. All the places Frank had listed. She’d check them one by one, but something else bothered her.

Then it hit her. It wasn’t about the places Frank had talked about. It was what he’d said.

If she’s suiting up to defend herself...

Kara and Meredith had been teaching Sadie some of the techniques Kara was learning. They had even done some sparring together, employing jujitsu. Sadie had vowed to learn everything Kara had. She’d wanted to defend Kara and Maggie, just like Kara had promised to defend them.

A smile crossed her face. With all the stress they were under right now, Sadie needed something to keep herself occupied. And now, Kara guessed she’d find Sadie in the gym practicing those moves. No doubt her trusty sidekick, Maggie, would be lying in the corner of the gym, supervising Sadie’s exercises.

Kara let out a deep breath. That had to be it. And the closer she got to the gym, the better about it all she felt. The hatch to the gym was cracked open. Light bled out into the passage. She heard the sounds of feet moving across the mat, then a thump. Sadie was probably pantomiming a takedown technique, just like Kara had taught her.

Good on her. Kara always underestimated her little sister. Always thinking of her as a baby. She often forgot that while the apocalypse had forced Kara herself into early adulthood, it was having the same effect on Sadie.

“Sadie,” Kara called. “Need a partner?”

She pushed open the hatch the rest of the way, grinning.

Sure enough, her sister was in there.

But she wasn’t alone.

Kara froze. Her blood turned to ice. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even let out a scream.

A clawed hand was wrapped around Sadie’s mouth. Her feet flailed, kicking against the mat. A Hybrid dressed in dark fatigues, rifle strapped over his back, looked up at Kara,.

He spoke with a thick Russian accent in a voice that sounded as frightening as he looked. “At last, the other daughter.”

-13-

Dom leveled his rifle at the snarling Skull-wolf leaping from the stairs. The beast looked like something that had crawled straight up from hell. Dom squeezed the trigger. Rounds tore into the creature’s flank. The monster landed on the floor in front of him, skidding as it burned off its momentum.

It tried to right itself, claws slipping on the floor made slick with its own blood. The wolf-thing snapped, teeth cracking together with violent power. Dom kicked the monster’s face, and its head whipped back.

All around the stairwell, the others fought the incoming pack of Skull-wolves. Somewhere above, Dom thought he heard the voices of the creatures’ handlers as the FGL goons tried to catch up to their monstrous pets.

O’Neil backhanded one of the creatures. It recovered and lunged, teeth headed straight for O’Neil’s neck. He barely dodged the attack. The beast’s teeth scraped against the bone plates. He followed up with his own claws. They caught the bottom of the thing’s jaw and broke its spine with a resounding snap.

Dom squared off against his own attacker. The beast went low, growling. It jumped again, its hackles raised. Long bony spikes stood out straight from its hide like the creature was the bastard child of a coyote and a porcupine. Dom lashed out with the stock of his rifle. The impact sent fractures spider-webbing over the side of the monster’s bone-plated face. With a whimper, the creature crashed against the wall. This time, it did not get back up.

It looked almost pitiful lying there, broken and dying. Dom couldn’t help but think of what the creature would look like without all those bone plates and spikes. A dog, he thought. Not too unlike Maggie. Maybe a bit bigger.

The FGL truly had no qualms about who or what they perverted with their biological weapons. Dom had seen child-sized Skulls that made his stomach turn and his heart heavy. And this wasn’t the first time he’d seen animals that had been affected by the Oni Agent. The Imps in the Congo had been monkeys before they were infected. The Agent, like so many other zoonotic diseases, had the capability of jumping across species, leaving a wake of destruction and terror in its path.

The FGL had to be destroyed. He’d have Spitkovsky’s head on a pike before this was over. And somewhere deep in Dom’s gut, he believed today might well be that day.

Three more beasts barked and snapped at the Hunters. Glenn and Meredith were parrying the attacks of one, backing it into a corner. Jenna and Miguel took on the other two.

Dom raised his rifle. The Skull-wolves’ handlers couldn’t be far behind. Hybrids—or humans if they had guns—would have the advantage over the Hunters. Dom and the others would be nothing more than fish in a barrel.

“Hot damn!” Samantha’s voice broke over the comm link. “I’m in!”

Dom waved Andris off from placing an explosive. The man seemed disappointed.

“Open door B-200,” Dom said.

The lock clicked obediently.

“You’re a godsend, Samantha,” Dom said.

“You don’t need to tell me,” she replied.

“Alpha, Bravo, on me!” Dom bellowed over the sounds of growling and metal slamming against bone.

The Hunters filed through the door. Glenn had to smash an elbow hard into the skull of the final beast to stop it from following them. Then he slammed the heavy door closed.

“Lock B-200,” Dom said over the comms. “And can you override any attempts to open it?”

“Can a fish swim, Captain?”

“A yes would be fine.”

All around Dom, the others were taking in gulps of air. The frantic combat with the wolf-things had been short and decisive, but it had still been a hell of a workout. Those bastards were quick and vicious as Skulls and perhaps a touch more agile.

“Everyone all right?” Dom asked.

“Head’s pounding,” Miguel said, “but I’m in one piece.”

Jenna’s eyes went wide. “My head, too. You didn’t hit it on anything, did you?”

Miguel shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

“Jenna?” Dom asked.

“No, Captain,” she replied.

Dom could still feel a scratch at the back of his throat. If he hadn’t been wearing gloves, he would’ve checked his nails for the telltale yellowing.

“We’ve all taken the Phoenix Compound,” Meredith said, answering Dom’s own concerns. “We can’t become infected with the Oni Agent...”

“No, you’re right,” Dom said. “Maybe it’s all psychosomatic.”

“Psycho-what?” Miguel asked.

Glenn pointed a finger to his temple. “It means the symptoms are in our heads. Not caused by anything real.”

“Because we’re freaked out,” Jenna said.

“I want to believe that,” Dom said. “But I trust nothing here. Whatever was in that steam, even if it was just waste coming from this facility, could be bad news. Samantha, you got all that?”

“Yeah, sure thing, Captain,” she replied. “Chao and I will see if we can find any answers. Maybe schematics of the building’s plumbing will tell us what’s up.”

Dom felt dread settle heavily in the pit of his stomach. He tried to ignore it for now. They just had to get through this mission.

He indicated the passages branching out before them. Lightbulbs hung from the ceiling by wires, dangling above them like luminescent spiders waiting to drop on unsuspecting prey. Scuff marks marred the floor. The place was no stranger to heavy objects moving in and out of the rooms, another sign that lab equipment had been shifted recently.

Dom took another look at his smartwatch. “Bravo, split off to find Navid and Lauren. Alpha, on me. We’re going to find some answers on Halo.”

“You got it,” Meredith said. She, Andris, and O’Neil took off down one of the dark halls deeper into the underground laboratory complex. Something slammed into the door behind them. Without the luxury of windows, they couldn’t tell what it was. But it sounded bigger than those wolf-like monsters.

“Keeping that door locked behind us?” Dom asked over the comm link.

“Aye, Captain,” Samantha said. “I’ve switched all the codes in this place. The only way to open those doors is by blowing ‘em down.”

“Good,” Dom said. “That should buy us some time.”

“I’ve cut their access to all CCTV cameras, too. They’re effectively blind.”

“That’s why they’ve got those dogs out, eh?” Miguel asked.

“Any chance you can see what’s chasing us?” Dom said.

“Hybrids and their wolves,” Samantha said. “Lots of them.”

The door shook again, rattling on its hinges. Dust puffed from the doorframe.

“Let’s get lost before they do blow that door down,” Dom said. “Move out!”

***

Meredith charged down the hall with O’Neil and Andris tailing her. The corridors were empty. If they were lucky, that was because Samantha was keeping most of the FGL at bay and unable to bypass the security protocols she had put in place.

They were imprisoned in their own prison. Meredith liked the sound of that.

But she and the Hunters were trapped in this prison with them. Somehow, they would have to get out, and she wasn’t looking forward to that part. For now, the best she could do was to focus on finding their missing scientists.

They came to a T-intersection. Meredith looked at her smartwatch, then pointed to their left. Several doors stood on either side of them. Each one nondescript as the last. If it weren’t for the schematics on her watch, Meredith wouldn’t even know that any of the rooms beyond these doors had names or specific designations. She followed her location on the map until she was outside the room labeled as B-216.

“We’re here.” Meredith pointed to the door. “O’Neil, you got a read on anything?”

“Smells like Skulls and Hybrids,” he said. “But no different than the rest of this God-forsaken place.”

“Samantha, B-216,” Meredith said.

A low click let her know the door was open. Andris wrapped his fingers around the handle. O’Neil stood near Meredith, ready to rush in as soon as the door opened. Meredith sucked in a deep breath. This was it. Her heart pounded heavy and quick. She listened hard for any voices. She tried to picture the laboratory again, replaying the layout of the lab benches she’d seen from the monitoring station. Her finger twitched next to the trigger guard.

If there were enemies beyond that door, she wanted to react quickly. By now, they would have some idea of what was in store for them. But she also tried to calm herself, slow her breathing. Navid and Lauren might be in there, too. She didn’t want to ruin their mission in a devastating case of friendly fire because her nerves were getting to her.

“We got this,” O’Neil said, seeming to sense her hesitation. “That was my thing in the SEALs.”

“You’re on point,” Meredith told him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“On my count,” Meredith whispered. She held up three fingers. One by one they dropped.

As soon as her fingers formed a fist, Andris twisted the handle and threw his shoulder into the door. It slammed back, cracking against the wall. O’Neil burst through first, scanning the shadows with his rifle. Andris followed, and Meredith entered last. Before them lay the lab, just as they had seen it in the computer monitor in the guard’s station. A few pieces of equipment still buzzed, lights blinking. Unnatural white light soaked the place.

On the benches lay pipettes and a tipped-over beaker, pink goo pouring out of it. The puddle had reached the edge of the bench and dripped along the side, creating a snail trail down to the floor.

Someone had been here not long ago, but they’d left in a hurry.

Meredith scanned the corners of the laboratory. The space couldn’t be more than five hundred square feet, and it was filled to the brim with laboratory equipment. Toward the rear were two doors.

With a hand signal, Meredith directed O’Neil and Andris to those doors. The schematics on her smartwatch showed one of the doors led to a room that wasn’t much bigger than a closet. The other showed a much larger room, though the map gave her no indication of what was in there.

She pointed to the smaller door first. There was no lock on this one. O’Neil leaned into the door. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. Then he shrugged.

Whatever was beyond that door—if anything—was neither a Skull nor a Hybrid. Once more they circled around the door, ready to rush in. Then something scratched in the back of Meredith’s throat again like a popcorn kernel that wouldn’t give up. Her eyes began to water as she fought an intense urge to cough.

Andris seemed to notice. He shot her a look and gave her an okay sign with his hand.

She tried to motion back, but the rasping sensation was getting to be too much. She wanted to retch until it stopped.

God, what was wrong with her? She’d never lost control like this.

She tried to choke down the cough, but the itching sensation was still there. Taking one step back from the door, she bent over and braced her forearms on her thighs.

But as she did, she backed into a lab bench. Not hard, but just enough to send a shudder up its side. Normally such an impact wouldn’t do anything. But whoever had run from this place had left that fallen beaker in a precarious position. The bump sent it rolling over the edge.

Meredith reached to grab it.

Time slowed. The beaker hit the tips of her fingers. For that brief moment, she thought maybe she would stop this disaster. But the beaker tumbled from her hand and hit the ground, breaking into a million glinting shards of glass.

A second went by that seemed to stretch into an eternity. Meredith waited with bated breath.

The closet door flung open. A man charged out, yelling with a primal anger. In his hand he held a syringe with a two-inch long needle. A white coat flapped behind him as he lunged at Andris.

The man tried to jab the needle into Andris’s neck. The Hunter dropped his rifle and grabbed the man’s wrists, pushing him back. Meredith shot up, ignoring the strange sensations riding up from her neck and into her head. She swiveled the stock of her rifle right into the man’s face. A sickening crack was followed by a spray of blood from his nose.

The man recoiled only for a second before trying to jab at Andris again. Another whack from Meredith’s rifle sent him sprawling backward. The man’s head hit the concrete floor with a heavy thud. His fingers twitched, and the syringe fell out of his hand, rolling across the floor.

O’Neil stopped it with his feet and picked it up.

“Guy’s done for,” Andris said, standing.

Blood began to flow from the back of the man’s head. Meredith shined a tac light into the door the man had jumped from. Stacks of boxes and glass containers full of various liquids and powders were shelved there. But there were no other FGL cronies waiting to attack them.

“Next,” Meredith said.

They breached the other door. This one didn’t lead to a closet.

Instead, it opened into an anteroom of sorts. White coveralls hung on hooks on one side. Boxes of shoe covers and gloves lay on shelves nearby. Air whooshed over them, pushing back into the lab they had come from.

A glass wall on the other side had a single door that led into a much larger space. Huge stainless-steel drums filled the place. This was a manufacturing facility. Meredith was all too familiar with the bioreactors in there. They sifted through the room, moving in concert with one another, rifles shouldered.

Meredith was beginning to think that the only scientist they’d find in this place was the one they’d killed. But as she rounded one of the bioreactors, she saw movement in the corner.

“Hands up!” Meredith yelled.

To her surprise, the scientist cowering in the corner stood, knees shaking. He held his hands up, speaking Russian, eyes pleading with her.

“What’s he saying?” Meredith asked.

“He does not want us to shoot him,” Andris said. He stepped toward the man, never taking his rifle off him.

The scientist’s long hair was in a tangled, greasy mess. Dark bags hung under his eyes, and Meredith noticed several long scars along his bruised face.

“Make him tell us where Navid and Lauren are,” Meredith said.

Andris translated the demand in Russian. The man shook his head, tears streaming out of his eyes.

“He doesn’t know,” Andris said.

“Does he work here or not?” Meredith asked.

“Says he was a prisoner,” Andris translated. “Said that the FGL was forcing him to work for them. Just like most of the other scientists down here.”

“I don’t believe him.”

Andris translated that too. The man fell to his knees, pleading.

“He wants us to save him.”

“Shit,” Meredith said.

Things had just gotten more complicated. She knew what Dom would do in this situation. He could never turn away an innocent life. That’s one of the reasons she loved him. But Meredith was a hardened CIA operative. She performed the necessary calculus and arrived at the only possible conclusion: bringing this man with them was asking for disaster.

“We can’t,” Meredith said. “Not like this.”

The man collapsed to the floor and started pulling on Andris’s boots. O’Neil looked around the room suspiciously as if a Hybrid might drop from the ceiling at any moment.

“I’m not saying we kill him,” Meredith said. “We’ve got a mission to complete. But if he lies low, we’ll get him out of here when we leave this place. At least, we’ll try. No need to tell him that last part, Andris.”

The man nodded as Andris translated. He wiped the back of his hand across his runny nose and stood, saying, “Spasibo,” over and over.

“He’s saying thanks,” Andris said.

They led the man out of the bioreactor room. The scientist recoiled when he saw the dead man in the other lab. But then, to Meredith’s surprise, he spat on the body, cursing in Russian.

“Apparently that man was collaborating with the FGL,” Andris said.

They made it to the door leading back out into the hallway. The man tried to follow them out. Andris told him that he had to stay. Then they had to promise the man over and over that they would return. When he finally relented, cowering against one of the lab benches, Meredith hoped that they’d be able to keep that promise.

The next door in the laboratory corridor led to another nondescript room. Several much smaller rooms branched off it. They breached the lab door with Samantha’s help.

Meredith saw only shadows that fled when she flicked on her tac light. O’Neil and Andris’s beams stabbed into the blackness, revealing lab benches lined with equipment and shelves. Meredith listened for the sounds of someone trying to ambush them.

Instead she heard the rattle of something metal and muffled grunts. Her light illuminated a swath of darkness near the back of the labs, playing over the cabinets full of glassware, sparkling wherever the light touched.

Meredith’s eyes went wide. Momentarily, she forgot all about the headache and the scratching in her throat. There, tied up and blindfolded, were two scientists she recognized even beneath their ragged hair, bruises, and disheveled lab coats.

Navid and Lauren.

“It’s them!” Andris rushed toward the scientists.

Meredith joined him with O’Neil watching their backs. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that a prize this great came without a cost. “Samantha, please make sure we’ve got all doors in this place on lockdown.”

“Everything that can be locked is locked,” Samantha reported.

“We’re here,” Andris was saying, taking his knife out. He sliced off the zip ties and ropes holding Lauren onto her stool. “We’re here. We’ve got you.”

Meredith let him work. If these two were tied up, there was no doubt in her mind that someone knew the Hunters were coming. This was a trap.

“Alpha, Bravo Actual here,” Meredith reported. “We’ve got our targets.”

“Copy,” Dom replied in a hushed voice. “Good work.”

“Not sure what’s going on, but get ready for shit to hit the fan,” Meredith said.

“Always,” Dom said.

Andris tore the gag from Lauren’s mouth.

She was crying. “It’s a trap,” she said. “It’s a trap. They’re going to come back.”

“Do you know the plan?” Meredith asked.

Lauren shook her head, whipping her knotted hair. “No, no, I—”

They got their answer. A silver cylindrical grenade bounced across the tiled floor. But it hadn’t come from any of the doors. It had come from above. The air ducts.

Meredith shielded her eyes right before the room exploded in blinding white. A loud bang deafened her. The ringing in her ears nearly made her topple over.

She blinked her eyes, her vision clearing just enough to see the Hybrids pour in.

-14-

Another plane roared over Fort Detrick. Shepherd watched it climb into the sky, carrying with it the Tenth Plague, Pacifist Fog, and Phoenix Compound. Those medical miracles would be distributed along the southeastern coast of the United States.

He’d just sent Team Jaguar out on a plane like that. Terrence, Rachel, and Rory had been valuable assets to Shepherd, taking care of problems around Detrick and beyond as well as bringing back the HVTs they needed to keep their facilities operating. But this was to be their most important mission yet.

“Sir?” Vasquez asked him. She stood on the sidewalk, illuminated by the streetlamps.

“Feels like every time we get our footing, something knocks us back down,” Shepherd said. He began walking again back toward their scheduled meeting in the CIC. While the military had official command of the base, the burgeoning refugee population had been too much for them to handle. Shepherd’s primary directive was to keep the research labs and production facilities viable and running. Taking care of these people wasn’t part of his assignment.

But he also couldn’t turn away desperate people at the gates.

Still, he needed help managing the logistics of taking care of all these people. That required getting the refugees to help take care of themselves. Especially after the fiasco with the attack on the Hybrid, tensions had been high not only between the healthy humans and the civilian Hybrids but also between the refugee leaders and the military.

Two privates saluted him as he made his way up the steps to the headquarters building. He returned their salute. One held open the door for them. The closer Shepherd got to the conference room outside the CIC, the more he felt like he was walking into an ambush.

He laughed aloud.

Vasquez shot him a puzzled look.

Glancing up and down the hall first to make sure no one was in earshot, Shepherd spoke to her in a low voice. “I’ve been out in the field. I’ve been imprisoned by my own country. I’ve been attacked by monsters that would blow your imagination to smithereens. And I’d be lying to you if I didn’t say I was just a little bit worried about going into this meeting with a bunch of civvies.”

Vasquez laughed. “I know what you mean. They’re like an HOA board on steroids. Think they own this place.”

“Nah,” Shepherd said. “An HOA is definitely worse. Ever painted your shed the wrong shade of periwinkle blue when you’re living under the reign of an HOA?”

Vasquez shook her head.

“Then count yourself lucky.”

Shepherd opened the door to the conference room and was immediately assaulted by a storm of voices. He raised a brow and gestured to Vasquez to enter first. He followed, doing his best to ignore the reddened faces around him. There were eight civilians in the room, along with four officers representing the US Army and AMRIID. None seemed to pay any attention to his arrival, more interested in whatever argument they were already embroiled in.

Shepherd stood next to his chair, looking around at the angry attendees. In his mind, he pictured a thousand scenes just like this in movies and television shows. They had primed him to think the best way to take control of the situation was to act just as angry, if not angrier, than these people. Yell above the chorus of voices to be quiet.

But Shepherd hadn’t ascended the ranks at Detrick because he acted on impulses honed by popular culture.

No, the best way to stop a charging gorilla was to silently stand your ground. Surprise it by doing the opposite of what it expected. He’d found people’s instincts weren’t so different from their great ape relatives. When people yelled, they expected you to yell. To escalate the situation. The best way to defuse that situation was to disrupt the status quo.

“I’m here,” he said mildly with a slight smile then sat.

The two civilians and two officers nearest him somehow heard him above the din. They looked at him. The yelling continued on the other end.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” one of the civilians asked. He was a man in his early sixties with graying hair and skin weathered by a lifetime of work outside. Steven Mahoney if Shepherd recalled correctly.

“They’re saying enough,” Shepherd said, indicating the others still arguing.

Morgan Tate, a woman in her forties, black braids twisted tight against her skull, laughed. “You got that right.”

Slowly, the others seemed to sense the quiet of the rest of the table. One by one they stopped talking, looking around with a slight hint of confusion.

A man at the end of the table kept talking when everyone else had fallen silent. John Pearson. From Shepherd’s previous meetings with the civilian roundtable, this was no surprise.

He counted off a few seconds. Tate even tried to get Pearson’s attention with a friendly wave, but he ignored her and continued his diatribe on the dangers of Hybrids intermingling with healthy civilians.

“Pearson,” Shepherd said in a stern voice.

The man looked at Shepherd but kept talking. Shepherd’s fingers curled into a fist and he slammed the table. “Pearson, shut the hell up!”

Okay, so maybe Shepherd’s charging gorilla strategy didn’t always work.

The man opened his mouth again. “Now, Colonel—”

“Pearson, I told you to shut the hell up,” Shepherd said. “That wasn’t a request for you to talk.” Pearson’s mouth did not shut. “You’re here because the rest of the refugees elected you to represent them. God knows why they’d elect you. Probably to save them an hour or two of hearing the stream of shit that leaves your mouth every time you come here. Either way, you’re here now. But you don’t have to be. We are not obligated to hold these meetings. We are here because you all have asked for them, and we’ve chosen to kindly grant that request. So once again, shut up and listen.”

The muscles in Pearson’s jaw twitched. Shepherd noted a ring on Pearson’s finger. Somehow the guy was married. Shepherd felt a deep sympathy for his wife.

“We’ve got a lot to take care of and not a lot of time to do it,” Shepherd said. “We’ve got supply line issues between the northeast and Maryland, especially to some of the civilian safe havens.”

“What’s that mean?” Mahoney asked. “We reducing rations again?”

“Yes,” Shepherd said simply.

Tate shook her head. “My sister’s babies are already hungry. Growing kids need more food.”

“Then maybe you should give ‘em yours,” Pearson said.

Tate shot him a look filled with ice. “You think I don’t already? We give them everything we have.”

“Look,” Shepherd said, “there’s nothing we can do about that right now. We’re working with our counterparts in nearby safe havens. That includes sending out more raids for supplies on our own. But this takes time, and I want you to be aware of what’s going on.”

“We appreciate the transparency,” Tate said, holding up a hand before Pearson could talk. A couple of the other civilians mumbled in agreement, but most were not shy about expressing their displeasure.

“I know you all are doing everything you can to keep the rest of the refugees in line,” Shepherd said. “For the most part, you’ve done a good job organizing yourselves and policing your own. I know your recruitment efforts are tough, and it’s not always easy to find good people you can count on.”

“I don’t like where this is going, Colonel,” Mahoney said.

“You need to step up recruitment efforts,” Shepherd said. “That may mean if we’re not hitting quotas, we’re going to start drafting people into service on base. Sanitation efforts, warehouse workers, all those hands-on jobs are desperate for more people.”

“Can’t you have more of your army men and women take care of this?” Pearson said. “That’s what they’re supposed to be doing.”

“We’re a little busy working on research and maintaining our defensive positions,” Shepherd said. “Of course, if you think you’re capable of doing a better job, I would gladly clean the toilets and let you handle the Skulls.”

Pearson clamped his mouth shut but looked no less angry.

“Sure, Colonel,” Tate said. “It ain’t going to be easy, but we weren’t elected to the board because this was gonna be easy.”

Shepherd appreciated the side-eye she shot Pearson.

“Now we got to step up to do the military’s job?” Mahoney asked.

“‘Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country,’” one of the other civilians said.

“Afraid that’s exactly what we should be asking ourselves right now,” Tate said.

“They’re right,” Shepherd said. “The only way we survive this is through cooperation. This isn’t even about patriotism anymore. This is about survival. I want to survive. I want everyone in this room—even you, Pearson—to survive. And the only way that happens is if everyone contributes as much as they can. We’ve got to take care of our own. Our families, the injured, the sick. We’re the fortunate ones in this room, the ones with enough left to give back.”

Tate nodded. “I’m in, sir.”

Mahoney reluctantly agreed, and a couple of other civilians nodded their heads. It wasn’t quite the response he’d hoped for. But it was something.

“I’ll cooperate,” Pearson said. “But it sure would make things a lot easier if we didn’t have Skulls howling outside our gates every night.”

Another civilian piped up. “I know y’all have been working on that plague thing. Can’t you just gas all the Skulls? Clear ‘em out for good?”

Shepherd laid his hands flat on the table. “We’ve been over this. The Tenth Plague kills Skulls, sure. But it’s not perfect. It may have potential side effects on normal humans too.”

“Come on,” Pearson said. “It’s got to be worth the risk. I heard some of the AMRIID scientists say the stuff was safe.”

“We’ve never completed clinical trials,” Shepherd said, his mind turning to the disaster at Frankfurt. The FGL had ensured those trials never happened. “It’s a last resort weapon.”

Pearson scoffed, leaning across the table. “That’s not all. It kills Hybrids too.”

“Yes,” Shepherd said. “That’s true.”

There were murmurs around the table.

“So what?” Pearson asked. “I don’t see the problem.”

The civilians erupted into arguments again. They yelled at each other, slamming fists, standing from their chairs. So many opinions that Shepherd couldn’t make out one voice from another.

His earlier strategy of being attentive and quiet wasn’t going to work. This time he joined in the raised voices, demanding quiet until it was given.

“Hybrids are people,” Shepherd said. “We’re not massacring them just because we’re scared. Once we release the Tenth Plague into the air, it will destroy every Hybrid life in this base. Imagine the mothers and fathers and children, already frightened by the disease that’s taken over their bodies, now faced with a painful, agonizing death because their fellow human beings would give them up to save their own asses.”

“They’re not humans. They’re monsters,” Pearson said. “They anger easily. They attack without warning. They’re just smarter versions of the Skulls.”

“They’re in pain!” Tate said. “Of course they’re angry. Imagine your bones growing out of your body.”

“They’re abominations,” Pearson insisted.

“We are not using the Tenth Plague on them,” Shepherd said.

“Well, we should!”

“Could you look a Hybrid person in the face and say that?” Shepherd asked. “A child? Or what about that child’s mother? You want to tell them you would kill them in hopes that you might live?”

“I’d tell them,” Pearson said. “They tried to kill one of our own!”

“Only out of self-defense because of small-minded assholes like you,” one of the other civilians said.

Shepherd held up a hand before he lost control of the room again.

“Sir,” Tate began, “if I may?”

Shepherd nodded at her.

“I grew up in Baltimore. Can’t tell you how many times politicians promised this or that, telling us they’d fix the city. And then, when they were elected, you got the same old problems no matter what side of the aisle they came from. They’d stop listening to the people. I’ll tell you one thing. All those bigwigs running things—none of ‘em came from my neighborhood. None of ‘em grew up like I did.”

“Your story got a point?” Pearson asked.

Tate ignored him. “It was an honor to be elected to this council and actually serve as a voice for our people. But as I look around this room, I can’t help but think we’re doing the same things all those politicians in Baltimore did. We’re making decisions on behalf of people who don’t get no say themselves. We need to have some Hybrid voices in here.”

“Ms. Tate is right. None of this cooperation talk works if we don’t have everyone on board. And that includes our Hybrid friends.”

Pearson’s face contorted in revulsion when Shepherd said “friends.”

“Fine,” Mahoney said. “You going to have another election?”

“We already did.” Shepherd nodded toward Vasquez, and she left the room. “Before we meet our new Hybrid representative, I want to update you on the tribunal process. A trial was held, and it was determined that Lisa Caldwell was acting in self-defense.”

“She attacked someone!” Pearson said.

“She was trying to save her husband,” Tate said. “You always leave that part out.”

“What matters is that she was cleared,” Shepherd said.

There was a knock at the door, and then Vasquez opened it. Beside her, defiant, stood a far cry from the sobbing, anguished woman Shepherd had first encountered in the gymnasium after her husband’s murder. “Lisa Caldwell will be serving on the board, representing the interests of our Hybrid population.”

Pearson stood up without a word. He left the room.

Tate stood too. At first Shepherd had worried he was about to lose his closest civilian ally. Maybe it had been too soon to bring a Hybrid into the civilian council.

Instead, Tate crossed the room and offered her hand to Caldwell.

With a smile on her face, Tate said, “We’re glad to have you serve beside us.”

Shepherd breathed a sigh of relief.

-15-

Kara had faced Skulls before—and worse when she’d been captured by bandits in Virginia. She’d seen her friend Adam tortured to death. And she bore the scars from her battles against the monsters that had taken over the world.

But those horrors had always been on the land. Never on board the ship. The Huntress had become her home. A safe haven for her family.

And now that illusion had been shattered. She felt a sickness spread deep from her core.

“Do not scream,” the Hybrid said, holding Sadie tightly against his chest. He slid one clawed finger over the girl’s neck. “Do not try to raise an alarm.”

She wanted to beg him to let Sadie go. To take her instead. But she feared that so much as opening her mouth would mean the end for her sister. Instead, she stood frozen.

“Help me, Kara,” Sadie said, eyes welling with tears.

Kara wanted so badly to tell Sadie that she’d be all right. That this would all be over soon. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything to risk Sadie’s life.

From the corners of her eyes, she saw three other Hybrids emerge from the shadows.

“Get the girl,” the first Hybrid said. He signaled to one of the others.

They rushed forward. Kara thought of all the moves Meredith had taught her. All the ways she could try to defend herself. Drop low and sweep out toward the Hybrid’s legs. Grab his shoulder and use his momentum against him, sidestepping to toss him off balance.

But none of it mattered. Not when they already had Sadie in their control.

She let the Hybrid wrap his claws around her. They dug into her shoulder, drawing blood. Pain traced through her flesh. It was nothing but a distant sensation. An echo of her body crying out. She didn’t care about her own pain. Only Sadie’s.

She stared hard at her sister, eyes wide.

“Kara!” Sadie cried.

Her captor slapped his hand across Sadie’s mouth again. She squirmed until the Hybrid’s claws tore into her cheeks. Blood dribbled out. Kara’s stomach twisted.

At the sight of her sister’s injury, the spell that held Kara immobile seemed to snap. She flailed against the Hybrid who had his arms around her. Her fists pounded against his bony ribcage. She kicked his shins. But the Hybrid merely laughed.

He said something to the leader in Russian. The rest of the Hybrids chuckled until the leader held up his hand. They started out toward the corridor, leading with their rifles.

There were no alarms. No voices crying out down the corridor. Nothing. These monsters had made it onto the ship without anyone knowing.

Kara had been on the deck moments ago. She’d seen nothing there. No choppers besides Frank’s. She hadn’t noticed any other boats out there. No ropes or ladders strapped to the gunwale.

They passed a corridor leading to the crew quarters. Kara heard voices coming from one of the cabins. If only she could yell. She was so close to help. But she could do nothing. Nothing that wouldn’t end with Sadie on the deck, dead.

The tears started to flow from her eyes as the Hybrid carried her down a set of ladders deeper into the belly of the ship.

She didn’t understand where they were taking her. If they were going to kill them, why not just do it now? And if they were taking them hostage, then this was the wrong way to go. It made no sense.

All too soon, Kara saw exactly where they were going. The engine room. Good God, what did they have planned?

The tears flowed in a river now. She couldn’t help but let a whimper out against the rough clawed hand of the Hybrid.

There, on the deck, was Alden. A pool of blood flowed around him like a pair of macabre angel wings. Her mentor was dead. Around him sat a few other Hybrids, their backs to Kara. They were messing with the engine controls.

As the Hybrid carrying her approached, she could see what the others were doing. They were overloading the engine.

It no longer mattered that Kara and Sadie were hostages. So was the rest of the crew. Everyone on the ship was now at the mercy of these bastards.

And none of them had any idea.

***

Dom signaled for Miguel to breach another door. So far, they had come up with nothing but an army of indentured servants doing research on behalf of the FGL. Some of them had handlers who tried to fight back. Most spoke little English, and Glenn had to translate their frightened words. He had promised they would do the best they could to help these people later, and he did his best to find them good locations to hide while he and the others cleaned out the Black Swan Facility of the FGL menace.

If he wanted to get these people out of here, he first needed to find the Halo pills. Needed to find some intel on how the drugs were produced to help the countless civilians afflicted with the Heikegani Agent. Otherwise, even with the lives of these prisoners saved, the mission would be a failure.

“We’re in,” Miguel said as another door came unlocked. They pushed into a room filled with humming computers. Huge racks of servers stood in the middle of the place, and the temperature in here was nearly ten degrees warmer than the halls. These computers and servers were working overtime.

“I can see those sweet servers on your feeds,” Samantha said. “Plug me in. Now!”

Miguel took out a few USB transmitters and plugged them into the computers.

“Good lord, I think you guys got the motherlode,” she said. “Man, oh man, this is like a central intelligence database for the FGL. I’m just skipping through the first few folders, and I think we found it. I really do, guys, I think we got it!”

“The Halo pills?” Glenn asked hopefully.

Dom could sense he was growing impatient with their search. Glenn wanted to be with Bravo. They’d just found Lauren, but there was no word on the doctor’s condition.

“We got stuff on the Halo pill,” Samantha said, “and a whole bunch more. We’re talking data logs that document research from all the labs in this place, dating back years ago. Our people are going to have a hell of a time going through this.”

“Good news,” Dom said. “You transferring this back to the ship now?”

“Yup,” Samantha said.

“Start sending the intel to Shepherd as soon as you can, too,” Dom said. “We need to roll out production immediately.”

“Roger that, Captain.”

But before any of them could celebrate their find, another transmission came over the comm link.

“We’re under attack!” It was Meredith. Between her words came the bark of gunfire and frantic yells.

“Alpha, let’s go!” Dom shouted. “Samantha, lock the door behind us.”

Dom’s heart rose in his chest as they ran, adrenaline already surging through his vessels. They barreled down the hall without a word. Every step seemed like it stretched a mile. Every second bled into an hour.

They were almost to Bravo. Shouts roared into the hall, mixed with the sounds of muffled gunfire.

Dom went into the room first. He saw two Hybrids already lying dead on the floor. O’Neil knelt atop another, slashing with his claws. Three more Hybrids were perched behind lab benches, sending out a wave of gunfire that Dom assumed was keeping Andris and Meredith down.

With a few swift hand signals, Dom commanded the rest of Alpha to maneuver around the lab. Glenn and Jenna went to the right, while Dom and Miguel took the left side.

The Hybrids never stood a chance. Gunfire hit them from three sides. The attack ended seconds after Dom and the others had arrived.

“Miguel, Jenna, secure the door,” Dom said. He looked to Meredith. She had blood across her face. “You’re hurt!”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I think.”

Andris was holding his shoulder. “They got me, Captain. Just a flesh wound, but they shot me, the dirty bastards.”

“What happened?” Dom asked.

“Flashbang,” Andris said.

Dom looked around the room. Glenn was embracing Lauren. She collapsed against his huge form, burying her face into his chest.

O’Neil wiped his bloodied claws on his fatigues, then leaned over Navid. The younger scientist looked bad, but at least Dom didn’t see any debilitating injuries. O’Neil started snapping off the cords wrapped around Navid’s wrists and legs.

“Lauren always said you guys would come,” Navid said. He wore a pained smile. “I’m glad she was right.”

“We would never leave you behind,” Glenn managed, hugging Lauren tighter.

Navid looked around the room. “Where’s Sokolov?”

Dom turned. There was no one but Hunters and dead Hybrids in the place. “Who?”

“The Hybrid scientist holding us hostage,” Navid said. “He was the one in here with us. The one who ordered the torture.” Navid started to shake, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he walked toward one of the lab benches. Then he collapsed forward, sobbing. “He knows where my family is.”

The young scientist seemed like he was losing it. Dom knelt next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“Your family is here?”

Navid nodded. “I think so. They were still alive, at least last time he...”

Then Navid’s eyes went wide, locking with Dom’s. He pushed himself up off the floor and Dom followed.

“Spitkovsky was here,” Navid said. “He might still be. We saw him. He was the one who had us tied up. Like he knew you were coming.”

Dom grinned. If the bastard was here, they could finish this for good.

“He’s right,” Lauren said. “Spitkovsky was in this lab. Can’t have gone far.”

Dom looked around at the other doors connected to this room. “We’ll find him if he’s still here. What about this Sokolov guy, though? Is he dangerous?”

“Not to you,” Lauren said. “He always had to call reinforcements when he wanted to punish us. He was sick, I think. Dying.”

“Jenna, Meredith, check those rooms out,” Dom said. “If he’s here, let’s have a little talk.”

Dom kept on eye on the ceiling. He couldn’t hear anything coming that way, but he didn’t let his rifle stray, ready to slaughter anything that moved.

“Samantha,” Dom said, “if you’ve got access to any kind of air control systems, see if you can close off the ducts to this lab.”

“I’ll do what I can,” she said.

After a few kicked-in doors, Jenna yelled out from the microscope room, “We got Sokolov!”

She and Meredith dragged out a haggard Hybrid in a stained white lab coat. He was the most pathetic specimen Dom had ever seen, shivering like a frightened dog. Dom lunged across the room, his anger getting the best of him. He wanted to tear the man apart. But more importantly, he wanted answers.

He grabbed Sokolov’s neck and slammed him against the wall. “Where the hell is Spitkovsky?”

Dried blood flaked off the corners of the Hybrid’s mouth. Before he could speak, a loud boom echoed down the hallway outside of the lab.

Sokolov’s blood-red eyes went wide. “Sounds to me like he is on his way.”

-16-

Meredith used the back of her sleeve to wipe the Hybrid’s blood off her face. Her ears were still ringing, and her head pounded. Andris seemed to be in worse condition than her. He had been blinded by the flashbang—and a bullet had hit his shoulder. The blood from his wound made Meredith think it was worse than a graze, but they’d hardly had time to inspect it with the booming voices and footsteps storming down the hall.

O’Neil, too, was still covered in the blood of the Hybrids he’d torn apart. He was the only one who had been prepared for the ambush. If it weren’t for his enhanced senses, Meredith figured they might all be dead now.

“We need to move,” Dom said. “Samantha, you got a safe route for us?”

“Define ‘safe,’” Samantha said.

“How about somewhere without a bunch of FGL goons?”

“Don’t got one,” Samantha said. “They’ve breached all three entrances down the hall. You’re not getting out without running into someone.”

Meredith slammed a new magazine into her rifle. “How many someones?”

Miguel and Jenna approached the front of the room at Dom’s direction. The others took shelter behind the lab benches, setting up firing positions.

“I count a dozen Hybrids from the southwest, another dozen from the north and the east stairwells. All closing in on you. Plus, there’s one really big ugly guy.”

“Spitkovsky,” Meredith said.

“I’d confirm if I could, but he’s covered in some old-school Soviet-style furs and shit,” Samantha said. “Weird guy.”

“Still getting those Halo protocols?” Dom asked.

“Receiving and transmitting straight to Detrick, too,” Samantha said.

“Good,” Dom said. “We got Lauren, Navid, and the Halo protocol. Now we’re getting Spitkovsky. You can tell Frank to get the chopper going because we win this war tonight.”

“Hell yeah, Chief,” Miguel said.

The voices in the passages grew louder.

“What about the prisoners?” Meredith asked. “I promised we would help, but I’m not sure if it’s actually wise to do anything about it now.”

“As soon as we’ve taken out Spitkovsky and the coast is clear,” Dom said. “We’ll get them out of here, no matter what. I’ll come up with something.”

Meredith nodded at Sokolov. Glenn was keeping an eye on the sickly Hybrid cowering in the corner.

“What about him?” she asked.

“Take him out,” Navid growled.

Meredith didn’t think Dom would agree. He wasn’t the type to kill a person in cold blood if there wasn’t a good reason.

But this time he seemed to think there was good reason.

“Do it,” Dom said. “We don’t need to be watching him while we’re trying to watch our own asses.”

Glenn aimed at Sokolov.

“Don’t,” Lauren said, putting her hand on his rifle.

Her face was bruised and bloodied still. She wore a cast that Meredith assumed was the result of her treatment here.

Dom raised an eyebrow, looking at her. “He’ll only get in our way.”

“You can’t kill him like this,” Lauren protested.

“He looks like he’s going to die soon anyway,” Glenn said.

Sokolov shivered at that. Meredith was used to seeing Hybrids as strong, frightening opponents. Not this sniveling wreck of a person.

“Please, please, do not kill me.” Sokolov pointed a clawed finger at Navid. “I... I can tell you where his family is.”

The footsteps and clamor down the hall grew louder. They were running out of time.

Navid looked conflicted. “You can lead us to them?”

“Yes,” Sokolov. “I promise. Give me this chance.”

“Just tell us now,” Glenn said, picking Sokolov up by his neck.

Sokolov’s eyes narrowed, mucus leaking out of his nostrils. “No.”

Glenn leveled back a fist, ready to put Sokolov’s head through the wall.

“You cannot cause me anymore pain than I have already endured,” Sokolov said.

Navid held out his hand. “Give me a weapon. I’ll watch the bastard.”

Glenn looked at Dom.

“Go ahead,” Dom said. “We need to move.”

Glenn handed Navid his HK45C. Navid took it, looking victorious as he aimed it at Sokolov.

“Know this,” Navid said, looking grim, “I will put a bullet through your head.”

“You need me,” Sokolov said.

“We’ll see,” Navid said.

“They’re here!” Miguel said.

Not a moment later, gunfire cracked into the doorway. Miguel traded a few shots before drawing back. Meredith heard something metallic clink on the floor. Miguel and Jenna must’ve heard it, too. They dove away from the entryway not a moment too soon.

Bricks and plaster flew from the explosion. Meredith ducked to avoid the shrapnel. The dust hadn’t even begun to settle when four Hybrids burst through.

The Hunters opened fire immediately. More Hybrids swarmed in, pushing against the wall of gunfire. Meredith’s world shrank to the view through her rifle’s optics. The aiming reticle fell on the first Hybrid she saw trying to take shelter behind a lab bench. She tracked the Hybrid’s movements. Glassware exploded in violent sprays of crystalline shards. A computer sparked and fell off the table, clattering onto the floor. Bottles of chemicals burst in clouds of mist.

The Hybrid Meredith was tracking managed to pull himself out of the fray. He lifted his rifle. Another squeeze of the trigger, and bullets lanced into the side of the Hybrid’s ribs. He splayed out, blood trickling from the fresh wounds.

“Push forward!” Dom said.

Meredith stood from behind her lab bench, firing as she moved up to the next. A PCR machine next to her exploded in a blast of broken plastic. Plastic tubes and wires shot out like broken blood vessels.

“Meredith!” Andris yelled. He fired toward another corner of the lab, where a Hybrid had popped up to aim at her. His shots went wide, but the Hybrid ducked.

Meredith saw Andris wince with his rifle’s kick. His wound had indeed been worse than he’d indicated.

“Got it,” Meredith said, catching the Hybrid who had attacked her in her sights. The Hybrid went down. Others stormed in through the broken doorway, quick to replace their fallen brethren.

One leapt over a lab bench, knocking aside a shelf full of pipettes and test tubes. Meredith tried to fire on the Hybrid. The genetically engineered soldier was too quick. He twisted in the air, landing against Meredith, knocking her down. With a swipe, the Hybrid slammed her hand into the floor. She lost her grip on her rifle. The Hybrid’s claws drew back like daggers, aimed straight for her face. She twisted, barely avoiding the attack as they sliced where her ear had once been.

She did her best to parry and dodge the attacks. All around her, she heard the struggle of the other Hunters against the Hybrids. A chorus of braying howls sounded next. More of the wolf-like creatures were on the way.

The Hybrid holding her down screamed in her face. Hot saliva dripped from his fangs. His breath smelled like carrion. He locked eyes with her, fury radiating from his pulsating pupils.

Meredith found her own fury rising. They were so close to ending this war, to stopping the FGL for good. The anger burned through her veins, turning her world red. She exploded upward, knocking the Hybrid backward. He growled at her. She didn’t care.

Her anger only grew. It became a beast inside her, unlike anything she’d ever known. A pilot that took over her body. Her fists flew at the Hybrid, battering the bastard backward. She gripped its face and slammed it into a heavy microscope. The eyepieces shattered, cracking against the back of the Hybrid’s skull.

Out of her periphery, Meredith saw one of the Skull-wolves snarling, ready to jump at her. She twisted the Hybrid around and threw it against the dog-like monster. Their bodies collided, spikes and bone plates cracking against one another. Meredith picked up her rifle and fired. Bullets smashed into them both.

She spun to face her next adversary. Around the chaos and destruction of the lab, she saw the other Hunters taking control. They let out roars as fierce as the Hybrids. Outnumbered and outgunned, the Hunters were cornered animals. But they were fighting as if they had been possessed.

The Hybrids were losing. Those who dared to close in on the Hunters, thinking they had an advantage with hand-to-hand combat, were tossed aside, beaten and broken.

The Hunters rolled over them like a tidal wave. Nothing could stop them. No one could stop them.

“Spitkovsky’s turning around,” Samantha’s voice chimed in over the comm link.

“He’s not getting away,” Dom growled, bashing a Hybrid’s head into the brick wall. The impact left fractures spiderwebbing through the painted cinderblocks.

Rage had overcome them all. Unnatural anger, strength beyond their capabilities. Deep down, Meredith knew that something was very, very wrong. But she wouldn’t question it now. Not while it was propelling them to quick victory on the FGL’s turf.

“I’m transmitting his approximate position on your smartwatches,” Chao said. “We’ll keep an eye on him best as we can from here.”

Another monstrous canine broke through the lines of Hybrids. It jumped on top of a lab bench then lunged at Miguel. The Hunter twisted his prosthetic wrist. A concealed blade jutted out, and the Skull-wolf impaled itself on the knife. The monster flailed, taloned feet raking the air in front of Miguel’s face. Jenna smashed the stock of her rifle into the creature’s face. Then Miguel tossed the beast into another lab bench, knocking over cartons of supplies. Plastic tubes rolled over the floor.

A Hybrid took aim on them from his prone position near the rubble of the doorway. Meredith caught the Hybrid in her sights first, sending a flurry of rounds into him.

Another Hybrid down.

Something caught Meredith’s eye amid the haze of battle. She saw one of the Hybrids dashing between Glenn and Andris, heading straight toward Lauren and Navid.

She tried to track him with her rifle, but the shot was no good. Too many friendlies in her way. Navid and Lauren were nearly defenseless.

“Navid!” Meredith cried.

It was enough to get the young scientist’s attention. Navid swung his pistol around, taking his eyes off Sokolov. He fired off five rounds. All missed, plugging into the floor and wall instead.

But it was enough to make the Hybrid dive for cover. Meredith leapt over a lab bench, knocking over white plastic bottles full of powders and pellets that spilled across the floor. She cleared the corner of another lab bench and landed on the back of the Hybrid. Slamming her rifle into the Hybrid’s head, she made sure he wouldn’t have a chance to hurt anyone else.

“You okay, Navid?” Meredith screamed over the clamor of the battle.

He nodded shakily. Suddenly Sokolov took off, dodging past Navid. He leapt over a pair of dead Hybrids then dashed into the hallway.

“No!” Navid said. He ran past Meredith, grabbing something from one of the lab benches, then took off after Sokolov.

The last few Hybrids were down, dying or knocked unconscious. Dom stood amid the carnage, chest heaving.

“Bravo, secure the other prisoners,” he said. “Alpha, we’re going after Navid and Spitkovsky!”

***

Navid couldn’t let Sokolov go. He scrambled over the rubble of the doorway after the Hybrid.

He had been trapped in that laboratory so long. Watched by Sokolov. Tortured by the man and his comrades.

Now the tables had turned.

Sokolov ran like a frightened child after a scolding. The Hybrid coughed, sounding like he was going to hack up his lungs, his hand over his mouth. He ran like a drunk and had to press his palm against a wall to keep himself from falling over. As his hand pulled away, a bloody handprint remained.

Navid barreled down the hallway as fast as he could. But he was hardly better off than the sick Hybrid. His limbs felt clumsy, heavy.

“Sokolov!” he bellowed. “Stop!”

He raised his borrowed gun and fired. A bullet sliced through the air past Sokolov and punched into the wall.

Sokolov looked over his shoulder, fear in his wide eyes. Blood dribbled out of the corners of his lips and out of his nostrils. His taloned feet nearly slipped out from under him. He turned and started running again, taking a corner.

“You won’t get away!” Navid said.

Navid pounded the floor after him. He paused, aiming again. He wanted to stop Sokolov, but if he killed the man, he might lose his only connection to his family.

“Damn it,” Navid spat. He stowed the pistol in his waistband then ran.

Sokolov started up the stairs. Navid went up after him, his palms clammy as he grabbed the handrails to lug himself up each step. The boom of gunfire and frantic voices chased after them. That likely meant more Hybrids and their wolfen comrades had run into the Hunters.

“Stop!” Sokolov hissed at the top of the stairs. “You are going to kill yourself.”

“Then you’ll go down with me,” Navid said, aiming the pistol again. He fired. The pistol kicked back in his hands, but this time he was close enough he didn’t miss.

Sokolov went down, clutching his thigh, fresh blood streaming out between his fingers. “You stupid child!”

The Hybrid began pulling himself through the charred doorway. The door itself hung off its hinges. It must’ve been one of the ones the FGL had blown to reach the Hunters.

Navid lunged up the last few steps. The Hybrid tried to stand and even managed to hobble away, moving at half the speed he’d been running before.

Nearly all the doors along this passage were closed. He did not immediately understand why snowdrifts lined one of the far walls. It took him a second to see another blown doorway. A wickedly cold wind tore in from that hole in the wall, reaching toward Navid with its chilling caress.

The cold nearly stole his breath, but he didn’t let it stop him.

He pushed forward, cutting down the distance between himself and Sokolov. Somewhere down the hall, he heard a rash of new voices. A thrumming roar blasted through the corridor. It sounded to him like the engines of a helicopter.

He jumped forward, fingers reaching for the Hybrid. They wrapped around one of the bony plates and twisted hard until Sokolov crashed into the wall. Sokolov let out a cry of pain, collapsing to the ground. Navid used all the strength he had left to throw his knee into Sokolov’s sternum.

He pressed down on the Hybrid. Sokolov struggled. Claws tore at Navid’s skin, slicing flesh. But physical pain was nothing to him anymore. Not after all the FGL had inflicted on him. He slammed his fists hard into the side of Sokolov’s face. Every impact shuddered through his knuckles and wrists. He probably felt far more pain than Sokolov with each of those hits.

He didn’t care.

“Tell me where my family is, you bastard!” Navid said. “Tell me!”

Cracks formed in the bony plates covering Sokolov’s face. His eyes twitched, looking as if they were going to roll back in his head. Blood popped from between his lips.

“You... will... not... survive...” Sokolov managed between blows.

“You’ve got it wrong,” Navid hissed. His knuckles pounded with pain. They were covered in blood, both his and Sokolov’s. “You’re not living through the night.”

Suddenly Sokolov’s eye went wide. At first Navid thought the threat had worked.

But then he felt it. A dark presence looming behind him. The shadow washing over him. Like a thunderstorm had just passed over a mountain, an unmatchable power seconds from being unleashed.

Then Navid was in the air. So was Sokolov. They were held there by the monster that had once been Spitkovsky.

-17-

Dom charged out of the laboratory with Miguel and Jenna close behind. Bravo split off down the hall to engage another group of Hybrids who dared challenge the Hunters.

“Corridor clear,” Meredith soon reported over the com link. “Securing prisoners now.”

“Make sure to keep that server room clear,” Dom said.

“On it,” Meredith said.

So close, Dom thought. His vision still swam in red. The anger that had fueled their victory in the lab was more effective than an adrenaline rush. His muscles burned, and his head throbbed, but he pushed through it, filled by that fire coursing through his nerves.

Spitkovsky, you’re going to be mine.

A glance at his smartwatch told him he was on the right path. Bloody handprints covered the wall leading up the stairs back to the main floor. Dom followed them.

“Samantha, you got eyes on Spitkovsky still?” Dom asked.

“Negative,” she said. “He was headed outside but then turned back. Might be coming your way.”

Dom surged up the stairs. His muscles strained, feeling like they were tearing themselves apart. They trampled over the remains of a security door and entered a wide corridor. Cold air blew through a hole in the outer wall.

“Contacts?” Dom asked.

“Negative,” Miguel said, looking off down an intersecting corridor.

“There!” Jenna said, pointing down another direction.

Dom’s vision tunneled on the figure he saw there. A monstrous thing like a young Goliath. It must’ve been Spitkovsky. He was holding two smaller shapes. Around him was a gaggle of Hybrids.

Dom pressed his eye to his optics. He was ready to open fire from here when he saw who Spitkovsky was holding.

“That’s Navid and Sokolov!” Dom said.

“Shit,” Miguel said. “Can’t risk hitting our guy.”

“We need to get closer,” Jenna said.

They rushed down the corridor, flitting between doorways and sticking to the shadows, cutting the distance between themselves and the FGL in half before Dom signaled for them to stop.

Now they were close enough that Dom was certain he couldn’t miss. He raised his rifle and gave the order.

The first two Hybrids went down. Others sought what sparse cover there was in the hall, diving into the recesses of the doorways and returning fire.

Spitkovsky backed away, still holding Navid and Sokolov. He dragged them down the hall, retreating toward the gaping hole in the wall. Snow swirled around him, kicking up the tails of his thick black coat.

The remaining Hybrids started to fall back.

“Do not let them escape!” Dom bellowed. “Not this time!”

Hybrids fell under the onslaught. A surge of confidence pummeled his senses. The goal was close at hand. Dom felt as if he had already won. He couldn’t explain it. And he couldn’t explain the strength seeming to explode through his body, carrying him forward.

The icy wind blasting into him meant nothing. There was only victory.

Only revenge.

Three more Hybrids remained in the hall, positioned around the crumbling remains of the wall. Metallic clinks sounded. Dom saw a pair of cylinders bounce over the tiled floor toward them, coming to rest against one of the fallen Hybrids near his position.

“Take cover!” Jenna cried.

Dom recoiled, waiting for the blast that would send shrapnel toward them in a fiery wave. He braced himself. The blast never came.

Instead, the two canisters started hissing. A stream of red fog spewed from each of them.

“That’s not... Chief, why the hell are they using Pacifist Fog on us?” Miguel asked.

There was no avoiding the smoke as it filled the room. Dom had used the same weapon enough times against the Hybrids and the Skulls to recognize the tinny odor. Soon the whole place was cast in a misty, reddish hue.

Dom pushed through the cloud. O’Neil wasn’t with them, and the Hybrid would be the only one affected by the Fog. And even then, the Fog didn’t affect the experienced Hybrid as much as it did the mindless Skulls and newer Hybrids who hadn’t yet learned how to control themselves.

Dom signaled for Jenna and Miguel to advance with him. They provided cover fire as he surged toward the hole in the wall. He made it there in time to see Spitkovsky hand off Navid and Sokolov to a group of Hybrids. Behind them was a Russian Mil Mi-24 kicking up a curtain of ice and snow.

The rotor wash flowed over Spitkovsky. His coat flapped in the wind. The black mask around his face rippled.

Now was as good a chance as any. Dom peered down his rifle’s scope. Spitkovsky had no cover. He was nothing but a huge, slow target. This was the man who had started all the madness. The one responsible for all the death, the horrors spreading across the globe.

Dom squeezed the trigger. Bullets tore from his rifle, slamming up and down Spitkovsky’s back, disappearing somewhere in the folds of the black cloak. Dom expected Spitkovsky to fall. To crash to his knees, blood pouring into the white snow.

But Spitkovsky did no such thing.

Instead, he turned, head lowered, eyes staring through the curtains of white snow and red Pacifist Fog.

Dom took in a deep breath, readjusted his aim, and fired again. His head started to feel light. He tried to track his optics over Spitkovsky. But his vision began to blur.

Now Spitkovsky was barreling toward him. Vaguely he sensed Miguel and Jenna join him, each knee-deep in the snow. Gunfire flickered back and forth between the two sides even as Spitkovsky charged Dom. The huge man kicked up a rooster tail of snow.

Maybe Dom was going crazy. Or maybe it was because of his blurring vision. But whatever the reason, his shots seemed to pass through Spitkovsky as if the bastard was nothing more than a hologram.

Then Spitkovsky threw himself into the air. A man of that stature shouldn’t have been able to soar like that. But Spitkovsky did.

Dom tried to back up, but the snow and ice slowed his movements, made them clumsy. Spitkovsky landed in front of him. A clawed arm shot out, grabbing Dom’s biceps. Dom fired his rifle with one hand, shooting straight into Spitkovsky’s chest. The bullets tore through the cloth. Even if Spitkovsky was wearing body armor, shots that close should have done serious damage.

But the Russian didn’t even seem to notice. He grasped Dom’s rifle and yanked it from his hands then threw it at Miguel. The Hunter ducked, barely in time.

“Chief!” Miguel yelled.

A Hybrid’s gunfire cut him off from running to help Dom. Jenna was stuck behind a pile of bricks beside him.

Spitkovsky pushed Dom’s wrist back. Dom still had one hand free. He reached toward his thigh where his knife was sheathed. His fingers stretched. He could feel the handle.

But before he could draw the blade, Spitkovsky heaved Dom into the air then slammed him into a wall. Pain shook up his spine. The pounding in his head grew worse.

“Where is your strength now?” Spitkovsky asked.

Dom grunted, reaching again for his knife. He tried to draw on the fury that fueled him before. Thoughts of all the lives they’d lost to get to this point. But none of it reignited the power he’d felt moments ago.

“Vermin,” Spitkovsky hissed. “That is all you are.” He drew his face in close enough for Dom to smell the man’s fetid breath. “You are weak. You are under my power. Soon you’ll fight for me.”

“I’ll die before I do anything for you,” Dom said.

Spitkovsky laughed. Gunfire exploded around them. The Hybrids had Miguel and Jenna pinned down.

“You do not have that choice.” Spitkovsky’s Russian accent sounded thicker than Dom recalled, and his voice was harsher, more growling. “I can already see the Fog has weakened you. You are a smart man; you must be able to tell me why.”

Dom’s stomach twisted. His worst fears, the ones he’d tried to repress, boiled over in him. “We took the Phoenix Compound.”

“I had your scientists working on a remedy to that,” Spitkovsky said. “But no, you are right, it is not the Oni Agent.” The man’s nightmarish grin widened. “You will become a Hybrid instead. That way I get to keep your brain.”

Dom inched his fingers down toward the knife. If he could just keep the man talking, he could get to his weapon. “Hybrid or not, I will never work for you.”

“I have ways of making anyone work for me,” Spitkovsky said. “Your scientists worked for me. Your new friend, Dr. Sokolov, was resistant, but I eventually convinced him too. You, too, will work for us.”

“You’re wrong,” Dom said.

“I am very rarely wrong.” Spitkovsky used his free hand to indicate the Black Swan prison. “I knew you would find us eventually. Every possible entrance is rigged with the airborne Heikegani Agent. It has resulted in a few of my men turning into Hybrids, but that is no problem for us. It will be a problem for you, though.”

“Fuck you,” Dom spat.

“In a day, your mental changes will be complete. In two days, your bones will start to grow wider, stronger. Three, four, and five days, you will start to look like your comrade, O’Neil.”

Dom’s fingers wrapped around the knife handle. He drew it from its sheath and slashed at Spitkovsky’s neck.

Spitkovsky recoiled. The blade tore part of his black cloak away. Fabric parted to reveal a gray neck bolstered by bone plates. Another upward slice traced along Spitkovsky’s face. Now Dom felt the slick movement of the blade through flesh. Blood sprayed from the wound, and more of Spitkovsky’s mask fluttered away in the rotor wash.

Spitkovsky pushed hard against Dom’s shoulder. Agony swelled as he felt his bones relenting to the man’s strength.

“Give in,” Spitkovsky said. “Make this easier. It will be far less painful if you do not have any broken bones.”

Spitkovsky tried to grab Dom’s knife hand. But Dom twisted just enough to avoid the raking claws and landed another long slash up the center of the huge Russian’s chest.

But this time, the knife didn’t find flesh. Instead it scraped violently along whatever was beneath Spitkovsky’s shirt.

The Russian growled and threw Dom across the prison yard. Dom landed hard in a bank of snow, the only thing that could have saved him. His left arm was numb, nearly lifeless. He pushed himself up, looking for where the knife had gone. It lay glinting in the snow a few yards in front of him.

“Give up!” Spitkovsky roared.

The remnants of his coat and mask flapped around him like the wraps of a mummy. Then Spitkovsky ripped at the cloth surrounding his chest, pulling it away. Dom nearly gasped at what he saw.

Spitkovsky was a monster. There was no other way to describe it.

Huge bone plates grew out of his chest, large enough to rival a Goliath’s. Those same yellowed bones bulwarked his arms. But instead of relying on natural armor alone, Spitkovsky had carved spaces into those bones and added steel plates. The man was a walking tank.

Most disturbing was his face. His gray skin sagged over pronounced cheekbones. Even from this distance, Spitkovsky’s flesh looked unhealthy, nearly transparent. His cheeks were sunken in, and his eyes seemed to protrude from their sockets, no doubt a result of his recessed eyelids. The skin around his scalp seemed to have dissolved away. His visage was more skeletal than human, and he looked far too old to be alive.

No wonder he’d been hiding behind a mask. In his rush to make himself a monster, he’d nearly destroyed himself in the process.

His mouth opened to reveal a maw of crooked fangs. He let out a roar that nearly deafened Dom then charged.

-18-

The cold crept into Navid’s bones. He hadn’t been prepared to go outside. And his body wasn’t used to this much exertion. The sweat that had been pouring down his face and back had frozen. He could no longer feel the tips of his fingers. Freezing water seeped into his ratty shoes. He almost wished the FGL would hurry up and throw him in that damn chopper just so he could get warm.

At least he still wore his lab coat. And in one of its pockets was the vial he’d been working on in secret. A hyperconcentrated version of the Tenth Plague. He’d engineered it to be a nonstop first-class ticket into the bone marrow, attacking the bony growths that gave Hybrids and Skulls their armor.

He had managed to disguise this work between his assignments for the FGL. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d persevered in hopes that he would get to use it on Sokolov or Spitkovsky. He hadn’t exactly had a plan for what came after he killed their captors. But now that problem had been solved.

The only challenge was getting the compound into Spitkovsky.

The Russian looked even more frightening than Navid could’ve ever imagined. He estimated it had only been a few days since Spitkovsky had entered the lab, displaying just the earliest hints that he might be turning into a Hybrid or something like it. How he had become this sickening monstrosity in so little time was beyond explanation.

Spitkovsky was charging again. Dom retrieved his knife and narrowly avoided getting steamrolled by the monstrous man.

Beyond them, four Hybrids fired at Miguel and Jenna. The duo was using the scraps of building materials around the yard as cover. The rotors of the chopper blasted wind and ice straight into their faces. Navid could tell they were going to have a hell of a time stopping the Hybrids from flanking them. Unless something happened or the other Hunters made it up here soon, they were going to be in trouble.

Spitkovsky swung a huge arm at Dom. The man let out a bellow of laughter. Spitkovsky was a beast. As seemingly unstoppable as he was ugly. He was toying with Dom now. He wanted him alive, Navid judged, or else there was a good chance the Hunters would be dead already.

Dom, much as Navid respected and admired him, was no match for something like that.

But Navid might be able to level the playing field.

One of the Hybrids attacking Miguel and Jenna went down. The monsters holding Navid and Sokolov began speaking in worried tones.

Navid might not get a better chance.

He kicked backward, crushing his heel into the one spot he knew Hybrids didn’t have armor. The Hybrid went down, gasping, claws covering his groin. Navid sprinted straight at Spitkovsky.

The hulking man was too preoccupied by Dom to notice anything else.

Navid slipped one frozen hand into his pocket, fumbling for the vial. In an ideal world, he would’ve had a syringe and needle, ready to stab it into Spitkovsky. But with only the small glass vial, he would have to pour it straight through those scything fangs.

Spitkovsky rammed into Dom again. The Hunter flew backward, his spine hitting the brick wall behind him. His knife flew from his hand, and his body slumped into the snow. Dom reached for the blade, but he looked like he was dazed, fingers reaching uselessly toward the weapon, unable to get a grip on it.

Navid’s muscles screamed at him to stop. His lungs burned. But thoughts of his family kept him going. Thoughts of Kara, of his new friends aboard the Huntress. He wouldn’t let Spitkovsky win.

He was near enough to Spitkovsky now that he could hear the huge man rasping for breath. The Russian sounded like a train engine. Navid hesitated. Spitkovsky could kill him with one swipe of his meaty fist. Decapitate him before he even knew what had hit him.

No, no, no, I will not stop now!

A rattling chain of gunfire made him jump. He turned in time to see Miguel firing. The Hybrid slid forward in the snow, dropping his weapon. It must have been pointed at Navid’s back. The Hunter had saved his life.

Now it was time for Navid to repay the favor. He leapt at Spitkovsky. With one hand, he grabbed Spitkovsky’s shoulder, hanging onto a bone plate. He reached around with his other hand to slam the vial into Spitkovsky’s mouth. The glass should break against those fangs. There would be no avoiding the Tenth Plague then.

But Spitkovsky was not just huge. He was fast.

He reached around with one hand. Claws dug into Navid’s back. An unholy pain tore through his flesh, ripping at his nerves and shredding his muscles. He screamed, unable to hold back the agony.

A moment later Navid was flying through the air. He slammed into a pile of ice and snow. Blood stained the snow around him. He tried to get up, but the pain screamed at him, making his limbs twitch.

Get up, he told himself. He summoned everything left. He had to finish this. He stood on shaky legs. Spitkovsky had already turned back to Dom, dismissing him.

Navid’s eyes searched the snow. Where the hell was the vial?

There! The little glass tube twinkled, too light to sink into the drift. Sitting atop the undisturbed snow halfway between himself and Spitkovsky. Navid could still do it.

He started forward, limping. A shape rushed past him. A Hybrid, running with a hobbled gait.

“No!” Navid yelled.

The Hybrid snatched the vial up and held it in the air triumphantly.

It was Sokolov.

***

Dom blinked the blood and sweat out of his eyes. The world around him swam. A deep throbbing pain nestled at the back of his skull. His left shoulder felt loose like it might pop out of its socket at any moment. Fresh flames exploded from the joint every time he moved.

Somehow, he’d recovered his knife.

Spitkovsky glared at him. Gunfire boomed around the rooftop. But to Dom, it seemed to be taking place in another world. Some of those rounds hit Spitkovsky, sparking against the steel embedded in his bone plates.

The man was a meteor headed straight toward Earth. Humanity could do nothing to stop its descent.

“Give up,” Spitkovsky growled again.

“Never,” Dom said.

He moved his knife to his left hand and pulled his HK45C from its holster with his right. Dom pulled on the trigger until the slide locked back. Spitkovsky, undeterred, lunged at him.

Dom crouched low, preparing to use all the strength he had left to leap into Spitkovsky’s attack.

Something caught his eye, headed his way.

Sokolov?

The injured Hybrid had escaped his captor and picked something up. Navid was stretching his hand out as if pleading for Sokolov to stop. The Hybrid ignored him, charging straight for Dom.

“What in the hell?” Dom reared back, confused.

The Hybrid scientist was moving too fast for Navid to catch him. One of the Hybrids near the chopper was clutching at his throat, blood flowing over his fingers. The other seemed to be gasping for breath, but he had recovered enough to aim his rifle.

At first Dom thought the Hybrid was aiming at him.

Great, he thought, trying to figure out a way to overcome all three of the bastards headed his direction. At least Sokolov was already injured.

Then the Hybrid nearest the helicopter opened fire. Dom ducked instinctively. Instead, they shattered the plates along Sokolov’s back. The scientist stumbled and fell. Then he pushed himself up from the snow, coughing up blood.

Spitkovsky turned, distracted. Dom rushed the giant.

Instead of aiming for Spitkovsky’s head, this time he went low. Throwing himself to the ground, he slid on the ice and snow. As he passed Spitkovsky, he lashed out at the man’s ankle. His knife bit into a weak spot there. Flesh tore, and the Achilles tendon snapped, drawing up into his calf.

The giant let out a roar of intense agony that threatened to shake the icicles from rooftops.

Sokolov made it to his feet, limping worse than before. He stared at Dom, eyes blood- red, breath coming out in icy clouds.

Dom sucked in a deep breath of his own. He needed to end Sokolov before the bastard could stop Dom from killing his boss. Then he’d be free to finish his dance with Spitkovsky. A sudden spat of gunfire from the Hybrid near the chopper forced Dom to dive low again.

Shit! Dom thought. He was going to lose his chance.

Sokolov turned away from Dom. The Hybrid let out a weak cry in Russian. Something seemed to have broken in him. Blood streamed out of the wounds in his back and legs. It dribbled down his chest as he coughed. And yet, despite his evident sickness and fatal injuries, he pulled on the last strings of his life, embarking on a mission Dom couldn’t understand.

A moment later, Sokolov sprang into the air. He grappled Spitkovsky’s chest. Another curse exploded from his mouth as he slammed whatever he’d grabbed from the ground into Spitkovsky’s open maw.

Spitkovsky clamped his mouth down on Sokolov’s wrist, crunching into the bone. Sokolov howled. The Russian behemoth threw him into the wall. Sokolov slid down it and into a snowbank, blood pouring from the stump where his hand had been severed.

Snarling, Spitkovsky spit out the hand. Dom thought he saw something sparkle like glass shards. The beast-like man headed straight at Dom. His eyes pulsed with a furious rage, nostrils flared, breath puffing out like a skeletal dragon. He dragged his injured foot behind him, grimacing with every step he took.

Dom eyed the monstrous man, looking for another opening. Slicing Spitkovsky’s other Achilles tendon probably wouldn’t be an option. He would be expecting it.

Spitkovsky left a trail of blood in the snow. He was no more than ten yards from Dom now. No options seemed good.

“You are mine,” Spitkovsky said. Then he paused.

Dom tensed, waiting for an attack.

Spitkovsky’s mouth opened. Instead of a roar, he let out a long groan. A stream of blood exploded from his mouth, and he doubled over.

There! There was Dom’s opportunity!

He rushed Spitkovsky. This time his knife found a new home between two of the plates on the man’s chest. He dug the blade around, causing Spitkovsky to roar. To Dom’s surprise, the plate started to pull up. Dom yanked on the edge of it. The flesh around the plate was bubbling. Beneath the steel embedded in it, the bone plate felt soft to the touch.

The more he pulled on it, the more Spitkovsky yelled and flailed. Dom kicked off his body, taking the plate with him. Beneath the plate lay a mess of red flesh pulsing against what Dom guessed were the remains of Spitkovsky’s original ribs.

Spitkovsky reared back one of his arms. His claws scythed down through the air.

Dom held the chest plate up like a shield. Claws clanged against steel.

Again and again, Spitkovsky slashed at the plate. Dom felt the power behind those blows despite the man’s injuries. It tremored through his limbs. Eventually, it would crack either the plate or the bones of Dom’s arm. He was so close to victory, and yet he’d never felt further from it.

Each hammering fist threatened to be the one that would break Dom’s arms. He had no illusions about what would happen after. Spitkovsky no longer seemed interested in bringing Dom into his fold, alive and enslaved.

When Spitkovsky went in for another attack, Dom dodged. He still felt weak from the Pacifist Fog and the exhaustion seeping through his muscles. It was all he could do to throw himself aside.

Flesh was dripping down the side of Spitkovsky’s face. The plates along his arms hung by ghastly red strings of sinew. Several of Spitkovsky’s claws had been broken off or knocked from his fingers altogether.

Whatever Sokolov had jammed into Spitkovsky’s mouth seemed to have had an immediate and catastrophic effect. The man was falling apart. Dom threw the chest plate aside. The crimson flesh between Spitkovsky’s dissolving ribs was too good a target.

“Go to hell, you ugly bastard,” Dom said. He pounced on Spitkovsky, driving his dagger straight into the man’s heart.

The Russian roared. More blood streamed out of his mouth. His fangs dangled from his gums. He fell backward. Snow exploded up around him.

Dom knelt over Spitkovsky’s chest. The knife gleamed with blood, reflecting the moonlight and the lights from the Mi-24.

Spitkovsky tried to get back up, but Dom brought the blade back into his chest. Again and again.

For Hector. Ivan. Adam. Renee. Spencer. Owen. Brett. Scott.

For every family torn apart and mutated, destroyed by what this man had done. Spitkovsky coughed. Blood sprayed over Dom’s face. Over and over, the knife punched into the flesh. Soon, Dom’s weight was enough to push his knees straight through Spitkovsky’s ribs. Whatever bone had been there was now dissolved in the soupy mess that had been Spitkovsky’s chest.

There was no death rattle from Spitkovsky. There wasn’t enough of the man left for that.

“Chief!” Miguel yelled. “Chief!”

Dom looked up, breathing hard, chest rising and falling in painful heaves.

“Chief, he’s dead!”

The Mi-24 was already climbing into the sky, leaving behind a yard with scattered Hybrid bodies. Jenna was holding her right arm. Something glistened there. Blood. She’d been hurt.

God, and Navid, too.

“Check on Navid!” Dom said. “I’m fine!”

Miguel ran toward Navid. The young scientist was groaning and writhing in the snow. Jenna held out a hand to Dom.

“You sure you’re good, Captain?” Jenna asked.

“Never better,” Dom said. He stepped out of the gory mess that was Spitkovsky.

Jenna helped him stumble away until he could rest in the snow, not far from where Sokolov had fallen.

“We got him?” Dom said.

“We got him,” Jenna said.

“Your arm okay?” Dom asked.

She shrugged. “Hybrid clawed me. I shot him.”

Dom nodded. Reality was starting to sink back into his brain. “Spitkovsky told me we’re all turning. They rigged every entry into this place. That gas... it was the Heikegani Agent.”

“Well, damn,” Jenna said. She helped Dom stand upright. “At least we’ve got their servers now. We’ll get the cure.”

Dom wished she was right but couldn’t believe it. Not when the cure had evaded them so far. Why would it be any easier now?

She was neck-deep in denial, and Dom worried how that would fare for the team.

“Shit, man.” Miguel had an arm wrapped around Navid, helping the young man hobble toward Dom and Jenna. “I really don’t want those bony growths to ruin my beautiful mug.”

The man forced a laugh, but Dom could tell Miguel’s humor was a shoddy defensive mechanism. Miguel was as horrified as he was.

Navid slumped to the ground, and Dom knelt next to the young man, checking over his injuries.

Jenna looked at one of her hands as if she was expecting bones to start jutting out of them that instant. “We’ll fix this. We have to fix this. God, I know we will.”

“Come on, sister. Hold it together.” Miguel reached for her hand.

When he touched her, something seemed to shatter. Her expression fell apart, bottom lip trembling. Miguel embraced her, and the two of them clung to each other like they had just found out they had lost their parents.

Dom looked at Spitkovsky’s remains. He wanted to feel satisfaction that the monster was dead. Wanted to believe that things would change immediately. He could imagine those changes rippling throughout the world. The FGL would fall. The remaining NATO forces and all their allies would push the remnants of the Oni Agent monsters back into the darkness from where they had come.

It was over. It had to be. Because Dom didn’t think he had anything left to give.

“Bravo Team, we did it,” Dom said over the comms. “We took down Spitkovsky. Sitrep?”

“Damn, Dom, finer words were never spoken,” Meredith replied. Then a pause. “Except I thought you’d be a little happier about it. Is something wrong?”

“A few things,” Dom replied. “Just hurry up and get out here. Huntress, you copy?”

“Damn right we did, Cap,” Samantha said, sounding downright cheerful. “Good Lord, that was something. Saw most of the vid stream. We won!”

“We won,” Dom repeated. He tried to feel joy. But something in his gut didn’t feel right. Maybe it was just the Heikegani Agent. He said, almost to himself, “Spitkovsky’s dead.”

He tried to taste the words on his lips. Let the understanding seep into his mind.

Then he heard coughing. It wasn’t from any of his people.

At first Dom’s heart nearly exploded. Was Spitkovsky somehow still alive?

But no, it was Sokolov. The Hybrid was sitting up. Blood stained the snow around him and covered his chest. As Dom watched, his coughing turned into laughter.

“My family!” Navid said, breaking away from Dom and lurching toward the Hybrid. “Where are they? You promised!”

Sokolov drew himself up so he was sitting against the wall. “They aren’t here.”

“What?” Navid asked. “Where are they?”

Sokolov’s mouth straightened, then he erupted in another coughing fit, blood spraying over his open palm. Navid grabbed the Hybrid’s shoulders.

“Where are they?” Navid demanded.

Sokolov shook his head. “Not here. Spitkovsky is a liar. He promised he would heal me. Make me better.” The Hybrid paused, coughing up more blood. “But he never cured this. Not the Heikegani Agent and not whatever he infected me with, making me hack up my lungs. He lied.”

Navid slammed his fist into the side of Sokolov’s head. “Shut up! Tell me the truth.”

“I am,” Sokolov said, blood dribbling out of the corners of his mouth. His eyes started to twitch. He looked like he was going to pass out again. “We’re all slaves to them. All slaves.” He closed his eyes, but a demonic smile crossed his face. “I didn’t think it could be done, but you killed one of the bastards. You actually did it. I pray they all die like this one did.”

Dom’s eyes went wide. Killed one of the bastards? “We didn’t just kill a random FGL crony. We killed Pyotr Spitkovsky.”

“Pyotr?” Sokolov asked, eyes opening again. “You did not kill him. If Pyotr is the Spitkovsky you want, he is still very much alive.”

-19-

Kara’s memories of her mom transforming into a Skull were burned in her mind. Those terrible hours where she had watched her mom fall ill. The dawning realization that something terrible had taken over her mind.

Another time, she had been attacked by a Skull in Maryland. The scars across her face still burned hot when she imagined those claws cutting into her.

In the med bay, she’d once felt her body giving out. A victim to the side effects of the chelation agent that was supposed to save her life. All she could do was hope the medical team could save her.

All those times she had been at the edge of the abyss. Kara knew what it felt like when her life was about to end.

But never had she felt so helpless as she did now. Taken captive by a Hybrid. Right here in the Huntress. Right where she was supposed to have been the safest.

The Hybrids were still manipulating the engine controls. An alarm began to beep, reporting that the engine was overheating. She desperately wanted to reach out and pull on the emergency release. Vent that heat out.

“Don’t you worry, girl,” the Hybrid holding her wrists said. “We aren’t just blowing the engine. We’re going to have more fun than that.”

“Asshole,” Kara said. Or at least she tried to say it. The word came out in a muffled growl against the Hybrid’s palm. She squirmed in his grip.

“Quit it,” the Hybrid said. “Or your sister pays.”

Tears streamed from the corners of Sadie’s eyes. The poor girl looked like a doll in the arms of the Hybrid. She didn’t move. She barely blinked. The Hybrid’s claw tapped against her throat. Its mere touch had drawn droplets of dark blood that trickled across Sadie’s neck and down her shirt.

Kara went still.

The leader of the six-Hybrid squad pointed at Kara and Sadie. He said something in Russian. The two Hybrids holding them responded and then ducked into the engine room. The clamor of the engine pounded violently against Kara’s eardrums. She wanted to clamp her hands over her ears. Alden’s warnings about protecting her hearing rang in her mind.

God, poor Alden, she thought. Kara tried to look back to get one final glimpse of his body, but the Hybrid dragged her down the passage.

Water sloshed at their feet. Kara wondered if the water tank was leaking. Beneath the tang of oil, she detected a salty scent.

Soon she saw why.

At the end of the engine room, a hole had been torn into the side of the ship. That hole led into a chamber beyond, choked with wires and instruments. The space was bathed in a crimson light, similar to the red battle lights that the Huntress’s crew used. She blinked, not believing what she was seeing.

A submarine.

No wonder no one had seen the FGL attack the Huntress. They’d come on a sub and used the noise of the damaged engine room to mask their entry. From what she could see, they had peeled away some of the welded-on sheet metal that had been used as a temporary fix to the Huntress’s hull.

With the sub that close, the Hybrids would have been able to board over the top deck too.

God, they might be crawling all over the ship.

Dread filled Kara. How would her father save her now?

Was her father even still alive out there?

Before she realized why, she tasted something salty. She’d been crying, too. The tears crawled over her cheeks and lips.

A pop sounded somewhere behind her. She tried to duck, but the Hybrid wouldn’t let her.

“Sadie!” she cried, before the Hybrid clamped his claws back over her mouth. They dug fresh gouges into the scars already crisscrossing her face.

More pops sounded. Something in the engine room must be giving. In her mind’s eye, she pictured a boiler exploding, rivets bursting at the seams and filling the place with deadly shrapnel.

Then she heard another sound. One she could hardly believe.

Was that... barking?

Maggie appeared at the hatch. The fur on her haunches stood on end. Blood matted her muzzle and chest. She went low, the deep growl in her throat audible even above the roar of the engine.

Neither of the Hybrids holding Kara or Sadie had their weapons ready. They must’ve counted on their brethren in the control room to take care of any threats. Kara wouldn’t have expected Maggie to make it past those Hybrids either.

The Hybrid tried to hold Kara with one arm as he reached for the pistol at his hip.

Kara no longer felt so helpless. As the Hybrid leaned his weight on his right foot, she helped him forward with a sweep of her leg. The Hybrid hadn’t expected the move. She pushed him forward until he lost his balance.

Sadie tried to mirror her movements. But the girl hadn’t spent nearly the same number of hours sparring with Meredith, nor did she have the strength. It wasn’t even a struggle for the other Hybrid to hold onto her little sister.

But Maggie lunged at him, teeth bared like she’d gone rabid. The dog clamped down on one of the Hybrid’s wrists. Kara grabbed the Hybrid’s other arm, throwing all her weight into peeling it off Sadie. The younger girl wiggled free.

Kara grabbed her arm and started running straight for the hatch. Maggie followed.

Hope sprang in Kara’s chest. If just they could get out of the engine room, they could warn someone. Find help. Take back the ship.

A figure appeared in the doorway.

Two of them. Holding guns.

***

Meredith looked at the ragged group of men and women wearing lab coats. Most appeared no better off than Navid and Lauren. Long, tangled hair. Bloodshot eyes that made every one of them appear zombie-like. Their skin, no matter the shade, looked sickly. An army of enslaved scientists. Among them were a few that Bravo team had secured with zip ties. Suspected collaborators. People who had, for some reason, decided they would work for the FGL of their own volition.

They shared their stories, pleading with Meredith and the other Hunters to spare their lives. Most told tales of families held hostage by the FGL or turned to Hybrids. One scientist told Meredith her mother had been used as a test subject. Every time she disobeyed, the FGL injected her mother with another experimental bioweapon at a small enough dose she would live. But not so small that she wasn’t wracked in pain.

The horror stories grew worse. Some of the scientists had been poisoned by the FGL, from sustained doses of radiation to various chemicals. Their FGL captors always promised the remedy if only the stubborn scientists would carry out their assignments.

Meredith shuddered to think that this was what her friends had gone through. Worse yet was the thought of what would’ve happened had Spitkovsky continued his reign of terror.

A pale light at the end of the passage illuminated a stairwell leading to the main level. Meredith sent Andris and O’Neil up first to check for contacts.

“Eyes?” Meredith asked over the comm.

“Negative,” O’Neil reported.

Meredith started to usher the scientists up the stairs. She wondered how in the hell they would transport all these people back. The chopper could hold a total of nine people comfortably. More if they jammed themselves in there with disregard to safety.

Not the two dozen that Meredith counted down here. They would be making trips back to this place for a while.

The scientists filed past, taking the slow march up the stairs. Lauren and Glenn came last. Lauren leaned on Glenn for support.

“You two doing all right?” Meredith asked.

“Better than I was a couple hours ago.” Lauren seemed to be biting the inside of her lips to refrain from grimacing as Glenn helped her up the stairs.

Meredith took a final look down the darkened halls of the prison. Damn this place. Damn the FGL.

The group suddenly came to a halt. Meredith was at the tail end, still inside the stairwell.

“What’s the holdup?” she asked.

“Got a locked door,” Andris replied.

Meredith looked at her smartwatch. “Huntress, can we get door G-132 unlocked?”

Silence.

“Huntress, do you copy?” Meredith asked.

“They are not answering,” Andris said.

Meredith pushed her way through the scientists. Some looked at her with worried expressions, eyebrows drawn up.

“It’s all right, people,” she said. “We’re getting you out of here. Don’t worry.”

Let me do all the worrying, she added in her mind.

When she made it to the door blocking their passage through the main hallway, Andris stood aside for her.

“I can blow it,” he said.

“Do it. Before the others get restless.” She turned to the scientists, waving her hands in the air. “Give us a second. Technical problem.”

Andris placed a thermite charge. Just enough to melt through the lock. After a sharp bang, a finger of smoke traced toward the ceiling.

“Open sesame,” Andris said as he led the group through the door.

Meredith stepped out of the way, letting everyone pass her again.

“Dom,” she whispered into the comm link. “I lost contact with the Huntress.”

“Copy.” The seconds ticked by. “I’m not getting a response either. Shit.”

Meredith’s heart thumped against her ribs, beginning to accelerate like a plane taking flight. This was not good. Not good at all. She wanted to believe it was a momentary technical glitch. As the rescued scientists and new captives made their way toward the main passage where Dom and the rest of Alpha were, she tried again and again to reach the Huntress.

Still nothing.

Finally, they made it to the hall near the prison yard where Alpha had brought down Spitkovsky. She saw Navid resting against a wall. Jenna and Miguel were tending to wounds along his back.

Sokolov lay on the ground nearby. The blood pooled around him told her he had since died. For a moment she wondered what his story was. Who the FGL had kidnapped and held hostage to make him work for them.

She wanted to simultaneously curse Sokolov and thank him. He had helped keep Lauren and Navid prisoner, though in the end he’d likely saved Dom’s life. But now she could do neither.

Dom stood against a wall covered in blood. His own or Spitkovsky’s, Meredith couldn’t be sure. She ran to him.

“God, how are you doing?” she asked, grabbing his shoulders.

He forced a grin that looked ghastly amid the blood. “I’m alive.” The grin faded as soon as it had appeared. “Still can’t get ahold of the Huntress, though. Please tell me you have had better luck.”

“Nothing.” Meredith tapped on her smartwatch. “Even this is reporting no connection.”

Dom’s eyes twitched. He retained a calm demeanor, but Meredith knew him well enough to see the turmoil behind his eyes. The festering worry about his daughters. Everything that could go wrong was being played out in his mind.

“Probably just a glitch,” Meredith said. “The weather, likely. Might be a blizzard that’s knocking out our connection.”

“I wish I could say I believe you,” Dom said. Then he pulled her arms way from his shoulders, gripping her wrists. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Meredith gulped, bracing herself.

“We’re infected with the Heikegani Agent,” Dom said. “We’re going to turn into Hybrids.”

The news traveled through the others gathered around them like the ripples of a stone thrown into a calm lake. Andris shook his head, one hand clamped on his forehead, mouthing, “No, no, no, no, no.”

Lauren grabbed Glenn’s arm as the man went silent and stared straight ahead like a statue. “We’ll fix this. I promise. Oh, God, Glenn. I promise.”

O’Neil let out a long exhale through his nostrils. “You must find a way to stop it.” He looked at one of his own outstretched claws. “This isn’t something I’d wish on anyone.” His eyes surveyed the rest of the team. “Especially not any of you.”

“We have Halo pills,” Meredith said. “We can stave it off.”

She tried to force a reassuring grin, but the weight of what Dom had said hung over her like an impending avalanche.

“Back on the Huntress,” Dom said. “But if something happened... if we can’t get them to respond and make sure Frank is on his way...”

“Frank’s on his way,” Meredith said. “He’s got to be.”

“I never got flight confirmation,” Dom said. “The Huntress went dark before that.”

“Then there must be some around here,” Meredith said.

“Did you see any downstairs?” Dom asked.

Meredith shook her head.

“We couldn’t find any either,” Dom said. “The storerooms were mostly empty. Probably ransacked by the FGL on their way out of here. Others were torched, nothing but ash. Boris knew what he did to us and didn’t want us to have a way out of this.”

Meredith tried to take everything in. Their uncertain fate. The fact that the rest of the Hunters might end up like O’Neil if they couldn’t get ahold of the Huntress. And...

“Wait, did you say Boris?” she asked.

The name sparked something in her. A distant memory of intel. She was sure of it. Something she’d uncovered with Samantha and Chao.

Boris...

“Boris Spitkovsky?”

Dom nodded. “Sokolov told me before he died. The man—or the thing—we killed wasn’t Pyotr Spitkovsky. Not the one we’ve been after all this time. He was Boris Spitkovsky.”

“The father,” Meredith said. “Our reports said he’d died.”

“For all intents and purposes, he had,” Dom said. “Sokolov knew the guy when he was a human. He was old, dying. And he used one of his experimental versions of the Heikegani Agent on himself. An early attempt related to the Human Machine project. He wanted immortality even when he handed the reins over to Pyotr to lead the FGL in his name.”

“So then Pyotr is still out there...” Everything hit Meredith like a Titan flattening a building. Now she understood why he was so worried. If Spitkovsky and the rest of the FGL had left this place to the Hunters, then Meredith could only think of one trade they’d be willing to make.

-20-

Kara threw herself to the deck of the engine room as the two gunmen opened fire. Her brief escape with Sadie and Maggie was over.

“Duck!” Kara didn’t wait for her sister to follow her command. She pulled Sadie down with her.

Still, they were too close for the gunmen to miss. At any moment, she expected to feel the searing pain of bullets tearing into her flesh.

That feeling never came. The gunmen weren’t firing at her. They were shooting at the Hybrids behind her.

“Come on, girls!” one of them said, yelling to be heard over the engines. “We need to move!”

She blinked, looking up. The first of the gunmen stepped toward her, his face now lit up by the red glow permeating the engine room.

“Frank!” Kara said.

She turned to reach for her sister. Sadie had her arms wrapped around Maggie, shaking.

“We got to move,” Jett said. Frank’s copilot. She held one hand out to Sadie, lowering her other hand with the pistol. “Bird’s waiting for us.”

Sadie took her hand though she never let her other hand go from Maggie’s collar. “Maggie ran when those Hybrids came into the gym. I thought she was scared.”

“She knew what she was doing,” Frank said. “Jett and I ran into her in the armory. She wouldn’t stop whining. Figured something was up, so we followed her. She led us to you guys.”

“Thing is,” Jett said, “these Hybrids aren’t the only ones on the ship. We tried to alert all the crew we could without letting the Hybrids know. But things are getting a little crazy out there.”

Frank looked toward the control room. “We need to move fast and stay quiet. Understood?”

Kara nodded. “Did you tell my dad?”

Frank shook his head. “Something’s blocking our comms.”

“Maybe they have a jammer on the sub,” Kara offered.

“Is that how they got in?” Jett asked, leaning into the engine room. She peered over the deck to see the hole Kara indicated.

“Doesn’t matter now,” Frank said. “All that matters is we get out.”

Frank led them back into the control room. Four Hybrid bodies lay sprawled near Alden. Kara stepped over them, following Frank out. The Hybrids’ weapons glinted in the blinking lights of the control panel. She paused then picked up one of the pistols.

Sadie appeared to be trying to keep her eyes closed as Maggie guided her toward the hatch back into the main passage.

“Hold on,” Kara said. She shut the engines down with an emergency stop. Wouldn’t be good for the engines, but at least the FGL wouldn’t get their way so easily. “You don’t think we can just fight them off?”

“Maybe if your dad and the rest of the Hunters were here,” Frank said. “But right now, there are too many of them. It’s not safe.”

A scream echoed down the passage followed by a series of gunshots. Their echoes reverberated in Kara’s bones. She wondered who that had been.

“We don’t have much time,” Jett said. “Let’s get you girls to the chopper.”

“Will everyone fit on them?” Sadie whispered as they crept into the passage.

“No,” Frank said. “Thomas told me he was going to get the Zodiacs ready for the rest.”

“Good.” Kara hated thinking that anyone—Samantha or Divya or any of the others—might be left on the ship because there wasn’t enough room for them to escape. Every one of them had played a part in why she and Sadie were still alive today. She couldn’t bear the thought of taking their seat on the chopper.

They started down the passage toward the stern of the ship. Voices exploded from deeper in the passage.

“Hide!” Jett tugged Sadie into a nearby storage room. Maggie followed, whining, until Sadie shushed her.

Kara and Frank went in next. Frank closed the door until they could see just a crack of light bleeding through. The voices grew louder. Russian, of course. The clatter of footsteps.

Someone was screaming. It sounded as if they were in pain. Sadie curled into a ball and Maggie wrapped around her, licking the girl’s face. Frank held his pistol up, and Kara followed suit, holding her breath and praying the Hybrids would continue on their way.

“Stop, please, stop!” someone was crying.

It sounded like Cliff Slaton, Kara realized. The officer of the watch who usually accompanied her dad and Thomas on the bridge.

There was a wet slurping noise that sounded like viscous liquid spilling across the deck. Cliff yelled out in unbridled agony.

Sadie gasped. Kara threw her hand over Sadie’s mouth. She felt the hot tears of her younger sister trace over her fingers. She wanted to whisper assurances that they would be okay. That they would come out of this alive. But she worried even a whisper would lead the ravenous Hybrids straight to her.

“God, oh, God,” Cliff said. His voice sounded garbled now. “My God, please, don’t. Please, don’t.”

Something wet smacked against metal, and Cliff went silent. The Hybrids erupted into laughter.

Kara wanted to vomit. She choked down the bile seeping across her tongue. The pistol burned in her left hand. She prayed that the Hybrids wouldn’t notice them. That she and Frank and Sadie and Jett would make it to the chopper unnoticed.

But good God, what did that mean for everyone else trying to make it to the Zodiacs?

The tap of the Hybrid’s talons on the deck clattered down the passage. Close enough Kara could hear their ragged breathing. She could even smell the odor of rot drifting off them.

Now they were outside the storage room. Judging by the different voices, Kara guessed there were four or five of them out there. Maybe if she, Jett, and Frank caught them by surprise, they could take them down. Just like Jett and Frank had managed to take the ones out in the control room.

But she wasn’t so foolish. Frank and Jett had been lucky. Their attack had been mostly masked by the sounds of the engine room. Kara hadn’t even recognized the sounds of gunfire immediately amid the roar of the generators and grinding driveshafts.

The Hybrids seemed to be lingering outside the storage room. Voices loud and boisterous. As if they were no longer worried about staying hidden. That worried Kara more than anything.

If the FGL already thought they had won, then what chance did Kara and the others have of surviving?

Kara wondered if Hybrids could smell fear. She wished she had asked O’Neil.

Please, just leave.

Then the voices quieted. They all paused. No more talons clacking on the deck. Just those rasping breaths they continued to draw.

Kara held her pistol up to the door. Frank and Jett were already doing the same. They were going to take as many of those spiked abominations with them as they could.

A second might have passed. Maybe a minute. For all Kara knew, it was an hour. The moment stretched on longer than any other in her life. Adrenaline pushed her blood cells out of the way, charging down her vessels and seeping into her muscles. She wasn’t strong. Or at least not as strong as a Hybrid.

But she didn’t have to be strong to pull the trigger of a pistol.

Then she heard the clack of talons on the deck again. The Hybrids were walking away. Slowly. Too slowly. Almost as if they were a group of teenagers who owned the halls of their high school.

Kara wanted to scream. Her arms trembled, the adrenaline urging her to act. Frank placed his hand on her arm as if he could read her mind. He held up a hand until the tap of talons against the deck finally quieted.

Seconds ticked by. Sweat covered Kara’s palms, and she had to readjust her grip on the pistol.

Finally, Frank pushed the door open, peering out. After looking down both directions of the corridor, he started out.

Kara followed. Warm blood tickled her cheek from the wounds the Hybrid had inflicted. It dripped onto the deck. Kara tried to hold the pistol with one hand and stop the bleeding with the other, cringing each time another drop pinged against the deck.

“Oh,” Sadie said, like all the air had been knocked from her gut.

Her eyes were frozen on Cliff. A spray of blood stained the wall behind the man. Chunks of flesh were peeled away from his limbs and chest.

As they inched past Cliff’s body and toward the next set of ladders, the ship began to rumble. A deep, throaty boom resonated through the bulkhead then settled into a low chugging. The engines were firing again. So much for Kara’s efforts to slow the FGL.

Somewhere else behind them came the sound of gunshots. This time Kara didn’t hear any screams. She wondered if that was good or bad. Maybe the bullets hadn’t found their target. Or maybe someone had died before they could so much as react.

“We need to run by the electronics workshop,” Frank said.

“The FGL will be there by now,” Jett said.

“Thomas was supposed to be there with Samantha and Chao,” Frank said. “And the medical team, too.”

“There’s a damn good chance the FGL is already in there,” Jett said.

Frank appeared conflicted, looking between Kara and Sadie and the empty corridors. “Not much good flying a chopper if you don’t have passengers on it. We need every seat filled.”

The sound of metal against metal rang behind them.

“Okay, okay,” Jett said. “But the girls—can’t we get them up there first?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Frank said.

They crept up the ladders. Blood still dripped over the side of Kara’s face. Frank led them toward a hatch that would take them through another corridor. This one led to the med bay, electronics workshop, armory, and the helipad.

Frank leaned his ear into the hall door. He froze there for a moment. “Don’t hear anyone.” He pushed open the hatch.

The roar of Russian voices erupted from below. Kara’s heart nearly leapt from her chest.

“Hurry,” Jett said.

Frank started down the passage. The hatch to the med bay was closed. The clamor of talons on the deck mixed with trenchant orders bounced up the ladders. Jett hurried out of the hatch, closing it behind them.

Already, Kara could feel the icy air rushing from outside curl down the hallway. Soon she and Sadie would be in the chopper. And then after that, they’d be flying out of here, putting this nightmare behind them.

Sadie whimpered. Kara held out her hand, and Sadie took it. Maggie pushed her body against Sadie’s. The dog, too, was trembling.

“We’ll be okay, Maggie,” Sadie managed, words coming out in a tumble.

The hatch to the med bay flew open. Peter rushed out with Divya, blood covering their white coats. Between them was Sean, head lolling back and forth. He appeared to barely be walking, merely dragging his feet across the deck.

“We need to get him out now,” Peter said. “He took a bullet.”

“Shit,” Frank said. “We were just taking the girls to the chopper.”

The yells down the ladders boomed louder.

Kara could see the struggle in Frank’s eyes. The electronic workshop was just down the way. If Samantha and Chao were in there, they needed to be warned. The Hybrids would be on them soon.

“Jett, you take everyone to the chopper,” he said. “If you see the FGL before you see me, take off.”

Jett shook her head. “We’ll wait—”

“No,” Frank said. “Take off. I can handle myself.”

Frank split off from the group.

“You heard him,” Jett said. “To the chopper!”

Jett led the group toward the final hatch that would take them to the helipad. Kara dropped behind the doctors. She was the only other person with a weapon, and she would be damned if they got ambushed from behind.

Jett made it to the hatch. It was already cracked open. She pushed it open the rest of the way. A frigid wind blasted Kara with snow and ice. She leaned into it, trailing the others.

Jett reached the chopper first and opened the cockpit. Two of the Huntress’s crew were already inside the helicopter. Kara recognized them as members of the support staff, usually off repairing something or taking care of the armory. Each had a rifle.

“Where’s Frank?” one asked.

“On the way,” Jett said. “Any trouble out here?”

“Not yet,” the other crew member replied.

Kara stood by the chopper, wind whipping her hair, aiming the pistol into the darkness. The rattle of automatic gunfire sounded from inside the ship. Kara tried not to think about it, focused on just making it to the helicopter. There she would be safe. There she would—

“There you are!” A Russian voice declared.

Kara turned in time to see a huge shape drop next to her on the deck. The smack of other bodies hitting the deck after him resounded around Kara. Hybrids. Four of them.

The biggest of the figures had an ugly face Kara recognized. Scarred and bald. But now it appeared he had grown the curved bone plates of a Hybrid’s mask, carved and shaped to look like a demon that had crawled straight from the bowels of the earth. His eyes seemed to reflect the moonlight like a cat’s. Horns protruded in uniform hooks around his head. His hands ended in claws that were polished to look like obsidian knives.

And still, beyond all that, Kara had seen enough pictures of the man to know who he had been before he’d become a Hybrid.

“Spitkovsky,” she said.

He merely grinned, then yelled at his comrades. “Grab the girls!”

Two of the Hybrids opened fire. A Hybrid tried to grab Sadie. The dog charged to protect her human sister. The Hybrid knocked the dog away. Maggie disappeared somewhere in the swirling snow, letting out a sharp yelp. The doctors dove into the helicopter for cover. Bullets cracked against the side of the bird as the two Huntress crew members fired back.

Kara saw the world in a blur. Almost as if she was looking through a screen of static with all the snow surrounded by the inky blackness of night. She aimed her handgun up and fired on Spitkovsky. Her first two shots went wide.

Spitkovsky ducked. For as big as he was, he was still nimble. He came at her low. She fired, sure this time she had hit him. But the bullet must’ve only glanced off his shoulder.

He slammed into her like a semi-truck. The air whooshed from her lungs. Pain rocketed up her sternum. Stars clotted her vision. The handgun clattered away from her.

More gunshots rang out around her. She wanted to scream but didn’t have the breath. A Hybrid near Spitkovsky fell, writhing and clutching at his throat. Another collapsed nearby.

Spitkovsky carried her against his chest like she was nothing but a paper doll. She peered over his shoulder, still dazed, still struggling for breath. The muzzle flashes continued for only a second or two more.

Another Hybrid came running after them with Sadie in his arms.

They were back inside. Away from Jett. From the helicopter.

From hope.

-21-

Thomas pulled his hand away from his gut and looked at the blood covering it. A deep, stabbing agony rolled through his ribs where he’d taken more than his fair share of Hybrid claws. He stood near the hatch of the electronics workshop, his FN P90 tucked against his chest.

“You both okay?” he asked Chao and Samantha as he stepped over the bodies of the two Hybrids he’d shot.

“Yeah, I think so,” Samantha said, talking a bit too loudly. She pressed her palms against her ears.

“The ringing will go away eventually,” Thomas said.

It had been his fault. He’d let loose on the FN P90, shredding the Hybrids. The rapid staccato of the weapon had been nearly deafening in the small space. But losing a little hearing was worth it to save Chao and Samantha. After all, how much hearing did he have left?

When this was all over, it would probably be safe for him to admit to his age and buy a goddamn pair of hearing aids.

Chao crawled out from under his desk. He dropped a couple of devices into Thomas’s hands. “This is what you were asking for, right?”

Thomas looked at the oversized syringes. Only instead of medicine, inside them was a device that could implant an electronic chip.

“You guys don’t have any other weapons in here?” Thomas asked.

Samantha shook her head, looking woozy, as she made her way toward Thomas. She about fell then caught herself on a desk. Meredith’s, formerly Adam Galloway’s. Her fingers knocked off the blue Dr. Manhattan figure there.

Chao ran to her side. “Here.” He offered her his shoulder.

“Little disorienting, I know,” Thomas said. “But it’ll go away soon.”

“Hope so,” Samantha said. “This ringing is unbearable.”

Thomas motioned with his hand. “Speak a little softer.”

“Didn’t realize I was loud,” Samantha said in what she probably thought was a whisper.

Thomas ejected the magazine on the FN P90, then jammed in a new one. No sooner had the magazine clicked into place when the hatch to the workshop inched open. With a gesture, Thomas signaled for Chao and Samantha to freeze. He raised his weapon and peered through the reflexive optics.

Someone started through the hatch, leading with their pistol. Damn, if Thomas had been a little closer, he would’ve been able to disarm them. Whoever it was, they were brave, but not exactly cream-of-the-crop special ops material.

Didn’t seem like the FGL to send in a man like that.

“Samantha? Chao?” the person said, pushing the rest of the way into the workshop.

“Frank, goddammit,” Thomas said, lowering his weapon. “Thought you were one of them for a second.”

“No such luck, I’m afraid,” Frank said. He started to close the hatch behind him, leaving it open just enough for them to hear what was going on outside. “We got incoming contacts. Sounds like a bunch of them. The docs and the girls are loading up on the chopper. A few of our guys are sneaking down to the cargo hold to escape with the Zodiacs.”

“Good,” Thomas said. “How many Hybrids you think are out there?”

“Too many,” Frank said.

Gunfire echoed down the passage.

“That sounded like it was from near the helipad,” Thomas said.

“Ah, shit,” Frank said. “We need to get out there. There were Hybrids after us when we came up.”

The gunfire quieted, but a storm of voices replaced it.

Thomas shouldered his gun again. His heart thrashed around inside his chest like a loose torpedo set off inside a sub. He didn’t like what he was hearing out there.

“Son of a—” he started.

The hatch swung open, clanging heavily against the bulkhead. It slammed into Frank, knocking him over. A pair of Hybrids emerged through the hatch. They opened fire. Bullets punched into computers and monitors. Sparks showered from where the rounds pinged off electronics. One monitor fell from the bulkhead and slammed into the deck, shattering, shards of glass tinkling across metal.

Chao tried to pull Samantha behind a desk for cover. But a stray round lanced into his thigh. Another took him in the shoulder. He collapsed with an anguished cry.

Thomas didn’t have time to see if he was alive or dead. He pulled the trigger, unleashing the buzz-saw speed of the FN P90 into the Hybrids’ flanks.

Crimson splashes burst across their sides. The Hybrids fell. One landed on Frank, who still hadn’t recovered. The spikes along the Hybrid’s arm sliced into Frank’s left calf. The pilot bellowed in pain, clutching at the ribbons of flesh.

Thomas lunged toward the doorway. The clatter of talons and more voices bashed into him. Frank used a stanchion to pull himself upright, grimacing as he did.

“Shit, Chao!” This time it was Samantha, still appearing disoriented, helping Chao. Blood stained the tech’s uniform. Pallor washed across his face, and beads of sweat appeared across his forehead like dew. But at least he was upright, walking toward the exit with Samantha’s help.

“He needs medical attention now,” Thomas said to Samantha. “Get him to the chopper.”

Thomas crept into the passage. Two Hybrids were on the opposite end, about to raid the armory. He squeezed the trigger. The rest of his magazine flew straight into those bastards, sending them tumbling to the deck in a mess of broken bone fragments, red tissue, and blood.

“This is my ship, you fucking assholes,” Thomas said through gritted teeth. “Frank, Samantha, Chao, let’s go.”

The injured trio leaned against each other, a tangle of broken humans barely balanced on the precipice of death.

Thomas ejected his empty magazine. It bounced against the deck. He fished into his pocket for a new one.

Something roared from the passage leading to the helipad. Sounded like a Goliath. Thomas’s stomach twisted into a painful knot. Dread cut its icy fingers through him.

He had never faced a Goliath personally. But he’d heard the stories. Seen the footage. Not something he ever wanted to encounter. Especially not alone, in these narrow corridors, with nothing but the FN P90 he’d scrounged up from the armory.

Then he saw the thing that had roared. The beast came around the corner with Kara in his arms.

It was worse than a Goliath. It was Spitkovsky.

A Hybrid tailed him with Sadie in his arms.

“They’ve got Dom’s girls!” Frank yelled.

The pilot started after Spitkovsky, firing his handgun. All the shots went wild. There was no way Thomas could see Frank taking down the giant.

“Stop!” Thomas said. He didn’t want the girls getting caught in the gunfire. “Frank, take Chao and Samantha to the chopper.”

“I promised I’d save those girls.”

“You’re not going to save anyone getting yourself killed. Go! Now!”

Frank looked like he was about to argue. But the color was leaving his face. He wouldn’t last long without help, and he finally seemed to realize it.

Spitkovsky disappeared down a set of ladders, headed down into the bowels of the ship. Thomas never looked back to see if Frank and the others were moving to the helipad. He sprinted after the Russian.

Dom had trusted Thomas with the ship. He had also trusted Thomas with his daughters’ lives. And Thomas wasn’t about to break that trust.

His footsteps rang against the bulkhead. The ship blurred around him as he took the steps two at a time, spiraling downward. He hit the bottom deck, jaw clenched. The growl of the engines seemed to fade around him. The rest of the world fell away until all he heard, all he saw was Spitkovsky and the Hybrid sprinting through the passage with Kara and Sadie in their arms. He caught them in his sights once again.

But he couldn’t pull the trigger. Taking down Spitkovsky would mean nothing if he had to sacrifice the girls too.

That wasn’t a deal he was willing to make.

“Son of a bitch,” Frank said.

The FN P90 that had served him so well moments ago was now nothing but dead weight in his hands. Spitkovsky and the Hybrid disappeared into the engine bay. Thomas followed, passing by a handful of bodies. Hybrids—and Alden. The macabre tableau registered only at the edges of his consciousness. He knew those sights would haunt him later. But for now, he saw only the mission at hand.

The Hybrid with Sadie ran between the generators and turbine shafts, maneuvering through the forest of wiring and pipes. He disappeared into a hole bored into the hull of the Huntress.

On another day, he would be damn interested in figuring out how a sub like that got so close to them. But today he only wanted to make sure they didn’t get away. Four Hybrids stormed out of the hole, back into the engine room. They spotted Thomas and began pointing at him, yelling.

Spitkovsky turned, Kara still in his hands.

Thomas charged. He leapt at Spitkovsky, swinging the FN P90 like he was hitting a home run. The gun slammed into the side of his head. The man lurched to the side, lips bared back, eyes narrowing. His hands never left Kara.

Instead he kicked Thomas square in the chest.

The impact sent him flying backward. His head snapped against one of the engines, the sickening thud resonating in his skull. Spitkovsky threw Kara to one of the Hybrids waiting at the entrance to the sub. The Hybrid disappeared inside, dragging Kara with him.

Thomas blinked, trying to clear his vision. Two Spitkovskys loomed before him. He backed away until he hit the bulkhead, trying to focus on the real Spitkovsky through his double vision.

Thomas fumbled for his gun. He brought the FN P90 up and squeezed the trigger, his vision still fuzzy. Bullets ripped into the bulkhead and pipes. Steam vented out from some of the wounds. Fluid sprayed from others. Something hot jetted out, scalding his face.

Spitkovsky fared no better, recoiling from the steam pluming from a punctured pipe. Thomas couldn’t tell whether he’d hit the bastard or not. He couldn’t hear a damn thing, and his vision swam like it was Michael Phelps going for the gold. He pulled the trigger again.

Nothing. Empty.

Spitkovsky tore the weapon away from Thomas and threw it aside. The gun clattered against the bulkhead, disappearing behind one of the engines. Thomas didn’t run for it. Too far. No more magazines, anyway.

No matter. Thomas didn’t need it. He lunged at Spitkovsky’s legs, throwing the man off balance. It wasn’t enough to bring him down, but it did startle the Russian. Spitkovsky was like a rhino that didn’t expect the hapless human to charge back.

But Thomas knew he was outmatched. Anger and adrenaline weren’t going to be enough ammunition to bring down the bastard.

He needed a weapon. He spotted one of Alden’s toolboxes. Spitkovsky saw him eying it. They both started off in a run.

Thomas reached the toolbox first, tearing it open. He grabbed the first wrench he saw in there. Heavy, nearly a foot long. Wasn’t the best weapon, but it was better than his bare fists.

Spitkovsky came at him in a whirl of slashing claws. Thomas swung the wrench.

It connected with Spitkovsky’s hand, breaking a couple of the claws. He swung again and again. Slicing through the air with a gusto his aching bones could barely keep up with. Spitkovsky tried to parry the blows, desperately attempting to get a grip on Thomas and stop the assault.

But Thomas wouldn’t let him. He knew as soon as he gave Spitkovsky an inch, it would be enough to end his life. The Russian would be able to grab his pistol or send a claw right through Thomas’s heart.

Not good outcomes.

His muscles burned. He could barely keep Spitkovsky straight from his blurred surroundings. But he whaled on the bastard.

Dom, sorry you couldn’t be here for this, he thought. He knew the captain would want a chance to avenge everything they had lost. But he also knew Dom would be content with the knowledge that Spitkovsky’s time on this earth was at an end. More importantly, that Kara and Sadie were out of his clutches.

But Spitkovsky wasn’t the only one in the engine room. Thomas saw the Hybrid long before he heard the series of gunshots. He’d been so focused on Spitkovsky, it took him a moment to realize that the bullets had hit him. The pain spread in a slow creeping fire that suddenly erupted into a blaze.

Thomas clutched at his chest with one hand. Blood poured out. While he was distracted, Spitkovsky tore the wrench away. He slashed at Thomas’s chest then kicked him again. This time Thomas crashed against the bulkhead, all the air whooshing from his lungs.

Thomas knew, deep in his gut, that he wasn’t going to survive this. But he had one final ploy.

If he wasn’t going to win, Dom would.

He pulled one of the plastic cylinders Chao had given him from his pocket. Inside was a GPS tracking chip. Now was as good a time as any, but he had to mask what he was doing. Spitkovsky wasn’t dumb.

He surveyed the tools that had spilled from the toolbox. A utility knife lay under a set of Allen wrenches and a hammer. The knife wasn’t much larger than a box cutter’s blade. He couldn’t kill a man like Spitkovsky with it.

But it should be enough to camouflage what he was about to do.

“You aren’t getting away yet,” Thomas spat.

He pushed himself up, leaving bloody hand prints on the bulkhead.

Spitkovsky turned to face him. Thomas ran toward the toolbox and scooped up the utility knife. With the blade in one hand and the GPS device in the other, he met Spitkovsky as if they were a pair of bulls.

The knife found Spitkovsky’s flesh. Blood flecked across the engine room. And with his other hand, Thomas jabbed in the GPS implanter. He heard a slight hiss as the gas ejected the tiny chip deep into Spitkovsky’s muscle, just under the Russian’s neck.

He let the cylindrical device drop and focused on cutting Spitkovsky with the knife. But each time he struck out, the beastly man hit him in kind.

Pain exploded in ragged bursts across Thomas’s body until Spitkovsky tired of him. The man grabbed Thomas by the shoulder, absorbing blow after blow, then threw Thomas against one of the drive shafts. The back of Thomas’s skull hit the metal. Red blossomed over his vision. He tried to blink it away, but this time his sight didn’t get any better.

Something wet dripped down Thomas’s back. He tried to stand back up, but he couldn’t move his feet. Reaching out for a stanchion, he wanted to pull himself upward. But his fingers couldn’t grip the metal.

Too weak, old man, he thought. His head grew heavier. He could barely hold it straight. The dark corners around his vision began to grow, narrowing his sight to a pinpoint.

Spitkovsky walked back to the sub. Thomas thought the man was limping. Maybe the Russian would be just that much weaker when Dom finally finished him.

Spitkovsky disappeared from the engine bay, lowering himself into the hole that led to the sub. A hatch there closed.

The Huntress lurched, accelerating forward. Water rushed in from the hole in the bulkhead, splashing around Thomas’s feet.

He leaned back against the bulkhead, gasping for breath, watching the blood flow over his chest. Water climbed up to his knees. Icy cold. Spreading through his body.

Thomas’s world began to fade. Everything he’d fought for, everything he’d hoped for was gone. He was a ship sunk to a rogue wave, lost to the world in an instant.

He heard ringing in his ears like the sounds of a dying klaxon. He collapsed, falling against the deck, the metal wet with his own blood and rising seawater.

Something rolled out of his pocket then bobbed on the oil-filled water. He picked it up, covering it in blood.

A cigar, he realized. He almost laughed at the irony of it all.

-22-

Shepherd sat in the front passenger seat of the Humvee with the window rolled down. Kowalski drove the vehicle down the street through Detrick. The sounds of hammers and drills filled the air. Civilians in yellow vests milled between buildings, each set on their own missions.

“They pulled through,” Shepherd said, turning to look back at Vasquez.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “The board must’ve gotten through to them.”

Not all the civilian groups had offered up their support equally. Pearson hadn’t been particularly cooperative. He never was. Usually, the guy filed a formal complaint or two each week to Shepherd, documenting poor living conditions in the shelters like a lack of hand sanitizer or a cockroach sighting. Matters that to Shepherd were unavoidable with this many people crammed into a space like this. But this week Pearson hadn’t complained about the recently reduced rations and hadn’t even attended the last board meeting.

If Shepherd had to guess, it was because of his decision to bring on a Hybrid representative.

Having Caldwell on the board was crucial to understanding all the facets of the civilian community now housed within Detrick. Knowing the population inside Detrick’s walls was as important to keeping the base secure as knowing the whereabouts and populations of the Skulls outside the walls.

Most impressive of all had been the response from the Hybrid community. Shepherd was certain that every able-bodied man and woman afflicted with the Heikegani Agent was doing what they could to help bolster the base’s defense and keep the place operational. Caldwell really seemed to be rallying the population, proving their worth to the rest of the base.

Kowalski parked the Humvee in front of HQ. Shepherd stepped out and marched into the building, Vasquez by his side. They started into the CIC.

“Colonel Shepherd!” a voice called from behind him.

It was Caldwell herself. She marched toward him. Two privates stepped in front of her, blocking her path with their hands on their rifles.

“It’s okay,” Shepherd said, and the privates retreated.

Caldwell rushed over to him, a look of concern painted across her face. “We need to talk.” Her eyes glanced between the privates and all the other people working in the CIC. “In private.”

“My office,” he said, nodding.

She followed him to the CIC, and Shepherd ushered her in. He sat down at the desk, motioning for her to sit across from him.

“How long until we get another shipment in?” she asked.

“We’re estimating next week,” Shepherd said. “Then we might be able to return to normal rations.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Caldwell said. “The Halo pills are going to run out soon.”

Shepherd nearly launched out of his seat. “We went over the numbers together. We had enough for over four weeks. Well past any interruptions in the supply chain.”

“I know,” Caldwell said. She pressed her palms against her eyes, her bony elbows on the table. “But I checked on the supplies today. Somehow, we’re missing nearly half of the supply. I don’t understand why.”

“What happens to people once they’re off the Halo pills?”

“Nothing good.”

Shepherd had heard the stories of the pain the Heikegani Agent caused. The agony of bones slowly pushing out from between the muscle fibers, tearing up nerves, and piercing the skin in a slow, self-inflicted flaying.

“How bad will it be?” Shepherd asked.

Caldwell leaned over the desk, speaking at barely a whisper through her curved fangs. “I remember first hearing that normal civilians were joining the FGL after being infected with the Heikegani Agent. If they joined, then they would get access to the Halo pills. I couldn’t believe anybody anywhere in the world would want to join the FGL.” She took a breath. “Now I know. These people would do anything for the Halo pills. Anything to stop the pain. And worse, they know what their children are going through.”

“They wouldn’t balk at joining the FGL to save their kids,” Shepherd said. It wasn’t a question.

Caldwell nodded. “The more we use the Halo pills, the worse our reliance on them has become. Things will go south very soon.”

“People survived before the pills,” Shepherd said.

“Survival isn’t enough,” Caldwell said. “Your body can withstand a tremendous amount of pain. Your heart will still beat. But your mind will crack. And I fear that’s what’s going to happen.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Find out where those pills went. Get us more. Otherwise, put us all into medically induced comas.”

***

Frank flew high over the Huntress. Pain lanced up through his leg, but it was nothing compared to the nauseating sight of the ship charging through the dark waves below. Completely under control of the FGL. The images of all the slaughter haunted his mind. Those were sickening scenes he would not soon forget.

And Spitkovsky had taken off with the girls.

“You doing okay, Fabio?” Jett asked him from her seat in the cockpit. She spoke over a private channel.

“No, not at all,” Frank said. “But I’ll live.”

Behind him he heard Sean’s groans as the doctors worked on him. Chao had gone silent. Frank liked that even less.

His muscles screamed at him, and he grabbed at his leg. “Never thought I’d say it, but I’m glad to have someone else to share the cockpit with.”

“After what you and the others did for me, it’s the least I can do.” She pulled back on the collective. “Any contacts below?”

“Nothing except that sub,” Frank said.

From the air, he could see the faint silhouette of the submarine that the FGL had used to attack the Huntress. It was parallel with the ship like a parasitic monster clinging to the hull. A ring of bubbles burst through the water. Frank assumed that meant it was detaching.

“Damn, do you think they have anti-aircraft guns on that thing?” Jett asked.

Frank blinked, looking back down. He waited for another ring of bubbles to signal a launching missile. But what could they possibly do?

“A stealth sub like that? Not likely,” he said, not sure if he was trying to reassure Jett or himself.

All the same, he tightened his grip on the bars next to his chair. His fingers were numb and cold. Probably blood loss. But he would be damned if he begged for attention now when Chao and Sean were back there dying in the troop hold.

“Seriously, Fabio, you good?”

“I’ll survive,” Frank repeated through gritted teeth.

Light suddenly erupted from the starboard side of the Huntress. The ship turned on its keel, looking like it might capsize.

Frank might survive, but the ship would not.

And worse yet were the crew members still trapped aboard it.

“To the shore?” Jett asked.

Dom, Meredith, and all the others were there, including the scientists they had rescued. This Seahawk wasn’t going to carry them very far, and they were probably safer in the prison they’d taken over than anywhere else at this point. They could wait.

“No, not yet,” Frank said. “Not until we get some sign that Thomas and the girls are safe.”

“You got it, Fabio,” Jett said.

The air was Frank’s home. Always had been. It might be the safest place in the world right now. The ship sure wasn’t. Landing in the middle of the Siberian taiga, full of Skulls and bears, probably wasn’t going to be much better right now. The longer he could delay their landing, the longer Divya and Peter had to help Sean and Chao without distraction.

Another jet of fire burst from an aft section of the Huntress’s hull. The heat rolled up toward the chopper, buffeting the bird. Jett leaned forward against the cyclic. She recovered the helicopter quickly. Damn good pilot.

Frank picked up the radio and depressed the button, calling over the Hunters’ open channel. “Frank here. Anyone listening?”

Five seconds went by. No response.

Frank watched the cargo bay doors. They were cranked open. The glow from the red battle lights bled out. It looked as if the Huntress itself was dying.

I feel you, old girl, Frank thought. His stomach turned as the pillars of fire reached up toward the chopper like the fingers of an ancient deity rising from the underworld. Black smoke choked the air. Frank could taste the oiliness and feel the heat. It was the ship’s last goodbye.

She had served them well, carrying her crew to all the corners of the globe. And here he was, a silent witness to her ignoble demise.

He didn’t feel worthy. Maybe it was the loss of blood. Maybe he’d always been a bit crazy. But he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the ship.

Goodbye, he said, giving her a salute. Another explosion rocked the deck. The silhouette of the FGL’s sub had since disappeared, dissolving into the murky depths.

“The ship’s moving faster,” Jett said.

“Christ,” Frank said. “Couldn’t they just let her sink?”

“The FGL’s last act of revenge,” she said. “Grounding the Huntress.”

The ship was already sinking, and now she was headed straight for the rocky shore. She wouldn’t just disappear into the darkness. She’d be a permanent reminder on the shoreline of what the Hunters had lost.

Frank only hoped they didn’t lose more. “Anyone got eyes on those Zodiacs?”

Jett shook her head, pulling on the cyclic to keep them circling above the Huntress on its final landward voyage. “Nothing.”

“Come on, Thomas,” Frank said. “You got this. You got this.”

“Of course he does,” Samantha said. “And Dom’s girls. They’re fighters. They’re getting off that ship with the old seadog. You’ll see.”

But they never did see it. The Huntress churned through the waters, spitting flames and smoke. A sea dragon beaching itself in a suicidal act of grim finality.

Then something flopped out of the cargo bay. One of the Zodiacs! A handful of other shapes splashed in next to the boat, illuminated by the fires tearing through the broken ship. They started to speed toward shore, racing past the lurching Huntress.

“There,” Frank said. “I see them!”

“Got ‘em,” Jett said. She trailed the Zodiac.

The shore wasn’t far from them, but it was lined in rocks and snow-covered pine trees. A river met the sea, spitting out huge chunks of ice that the Zodiac zigzagged between. Nearby was a small village with decrepit buildings bordering a snow-covered two-lane road. A single pier jutted out into the frigid waters, and not far from it was what could be generously called an airport. A pair of hangars stood next to a flat field between the trees.

Looked to Frank like a place where they could regroup and stage their rendezvous with Dom.

The Zodiac hit the shore no more than half a mile from the town.

“Frank here, anybody listening?” Frank called over the open channel.

Once again, no one responded. They must’ve been in too much of a rush getting off the ship to worry about radios. Frank wasn’t surprised. The FGL’s attack had caught them all off guard.

And now the Zodiac was on shore, being dragged up onto the rocks. A lifeboat filled with the last survivors of the Huntress.

“We’re making a pit stop,” Jett said for the benefit of the doctors in the back.

“Patients secure,” Peter said, though his voice sounded frayed. “Go ahead.”

Jett directed the chopper to a relatively flat section along the shore. The wheels bounced against the rocks, but she found a spot for the bird. Frank unstrapped his harness and opened the side door, pulse racing. His leg roared in agony with every step he took on the uneven slick rocks. But he didn’t care.

He had to see that Thomas and the girls were safe. That he hadn’t let down the Hunters. The shapes milling around the Zodiac began to coalesce as he navigated the rocks. He saw faces he recognized. Men and women who served auxiliary roles. Those who were often stuck aboard the ship when the Hunters rolled out to shore on missions.

But none of them were Thomas. None of them were Kara or Sadie.

Then he heard a bark. A golden retriever hopped off the Zodiac, shivering and shaking, icy water sluicing off her fur. She ran toward Frank at a limp, whining and crying.

“Maggie!” he said.

She ran past him and right toward the helicopter, then hopped into the passenger hold, racing between the passengers. As the rotors wound down, he could hear her sorrowful whining. She had the same question as he did: where were the girls?

Frank started to stumble back toward the chopper, leading the others from the Zodiac toward it.

The burning husk of the Huntress hit the shore not more than a quarter mile from their position. Its hull dug into the shore with a metal-scraping shriek, fire spraying from all sides now. Smoke billowed in oily black waves. As the engines growled and roared, driving further up shore, the ship let out another blast. Fire swallowed the entire vessel, rolling up into the sky.

Hot air rolled over Frank and the others.

He fell backward onto an icy rock. Pain ricocheted through his bones. Felt like nearly every bone in his body had shattered into a million pieces of glass.

With one hand, he shielded his eyes as the fireball spread, turning from orange to red to black. Now only smaller tongues of fire licked out from the portholes and wounds in the ship. One of the engines still growled, letting out an earsplitting grinding sound.

The Huntress was dying. This was her death rattle. The cry to let them know no one else aboard that ship was ever going to disembark. Not in this world, at least.

Frank felt fingers grip his shoulder. Then an arm wrapped around him. He turned his head, his neck feeling like the Huntress’s engine sounded.

“We’re still in this,” Jett said. “We’re still here. We’re not giving up yet.”

The other shipless crew members filed past toward the chopper, offering any help they could to those inside. Similar offers were returned.

“You’re right,” Frank said. “We’re not giving up.” Maggie’s cries continued to pierce the night. “If Thomas or the girls are still out there, we’re going to find them. We have to.”

Jett nodded. “It’s not safe to send in a search party to the ship. But as soon as that fire dies down...”

Frank wanted to argue with her. Wanted to say he’d go on there now anyway. But he knew he physically couldn’t. And she had seen the fire that had consumed the ship just like he had. No one had survived that. No way. A search party would only find blackened bodies and ash.

Maybe it was better if the girls had been taken by Spitkovsky. They might be kidnapped, but they’d be alive.

God, what kind of world was this where he was hoping for things like that? He could scarcely believe things could get worse.

But of course, fate always had a way to validate his most terrifying fears.

The drone of plane engines sounded over the crackle of fire, circling around above them.

“Who’s that?” Jett asked.

Frank grimaced. “That’s no American Airlines flight, I can tell you that.”

-23-

Rachel picked up her M4 and cradled it across her chest. The hydraulics on the C-130H’s rear ramp hissed as they lowered. A swirl of air curled over her. She shivered.

Despite donning cold-weather gear, she hadn’t been prepared for the unforgiving cold whipping through the interior of the huge plane.

“Thank God these things can land on just about any damn runway,” Terrence said. “That one was a little rough.”

Rory had one hand on the bulkhead. Rachel couldn’t see his face with the black mask covering it, but if she could, she guessed it was about as green as an ogre’s flesh. “A little rough?”

“I’ll never understood how you were a squid,” Terrence said.

“Don’t get seasick,” Rory said. “Just airsick.” He pushed himself off the bulkhead, and they joined the ranks of other men and women fighting against the freezing wind.

The growl of Humvee engines filled the plane as the vehicles sparked to life. Rachel followed Terrence, shouldering her rifle as they exited the plane. The runway was covered in a blanket of snow. Even the gouges carved from the C-130H’s tires didn’t reveal the tarmac—just more ice.

“Hate this place already,” Rory said.

They pushed out into the freezing cold.

So this is Siberia, Rachel thought. It was every bit as terrible as she had imagined. A fitting place for Spitkovsky to hide his twisted Black Swan base.

“Hunters, this is Terrence Connor, do you read?”

A few seconds passed.

“Terrence?” a familiar voice called back.

Frank! Rachel recognized his voice immediately. She’d spent a great deal of time with the pilot as they made their way from the United States to the Congo not too terribly long ago.

“Frank, is that you, buddy?” Terrence paused. “You still know who I am?”

“Is that a freaking ghost?” Frank asked over the radio. Rachel wasn’t sure if he was joking.

“Too damn real,” Terrence said. “We were sent here by Shepherd. Got some reinforcements. By the looks of things, we were too late.”

There was a pause over the line. Terrence signaled Rachel and Rory to the side. They waited next to the runway, rifles scanning the darkened trees around them. Humvees rolled out of the back of the C-130H, and other members of the task force found positions along the runway, scanning for signs of contacts.

“The Huntress is gone,” Frank said. “But we’re still here.” Rachel thought she heard his voice crack slightly. “At least, most of us are. You have no idea how glad I am to hear your voice and not some crackling Russian accent. Dom took Black Swan. They’ve liberated a bunch of indentured scientists.”

“Last I heard, Shepherd was getting a stream of data from the Huntress to Detrick,” Terrence said. “He said the signal went dark. Couldn’t reach the ship. Guess we know why now.”

Frank sighed over the line. “I’m afraid so. Hope he got something useful. But listen, Dom and the others are still out there.”

The last Humvee rolled off the C-130H. Terrence ushered Rachel and Rory onto it. Rachel piled into the back. She was thankful to have a little shelter from the wind even if it wasn’t what she’d call toasty in the vehicle.

“Before we pick up the Hunters,” Frank began. “I know it’s probably a lost cause, but we haven’t been able to mount a search party of the Huntress. It’s a wreck, I know, but—”

“Frank,” Terrence interrupted. “There is no way I’m not sending a search party in there. Team Jaguar didn’t come all the way out here for a snowball fight. You can’t forget she was my home, too.”

The Humvees tore down the road, passing by scattered houses with broken windows. Snow weighed down the roofs. A ragged flag hung from a pole. It didn’t flap in the wind; instead it curled around the pole, frozen solid.

Before long, they reached the people crowded around the lone Seahawk. Terrence greeted all the members of the team with handshakes and embraces. He even showed some of the others his new prosthetic legs—the reason for being medevacked all the way to the United States.

“Any chance you can get ahold of Dom?” Terrence asked Frank.

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Soon as the FGL disappeared, we got a signal again. Already told him you guys landed. I can patch you into our encrypted channels so we can set up a rendezvous and get them out of here.”

“Perfect,” Terrence said. “We’re ready to roll as soon as they are.” He turned back to the rest of the soldiers assembled around the Humvees. “Jaguar Two, I want you all to commence the search of the Huntress. Jaguar Three, get these people from the Seahawk to the C-130. See that they get immediate medical attention. Jaguar One and Four, we’re going straight to Black Swan.” Terrence turned back to Frank. “Frank, can you send your bird, too? I’m not sure that we’ll have enough room on the Humvees for everyone.”

“Can do,” Frank said. Rachel caught him wincing as one of Jaguar’s medics wrapped the wound in his leg. “Or rather, my lovely copilot Jett here will do the flying.”

“So long as we can get everyone out of this godforsaken place, I don’t care who’s flying,” Terrence said.

“You can say that again,” Rory said.

***

Dom stood at the gate of Black Swan with Meredith by his side. The churn of the approaching Humvees cut across the silent landscape. Those few Skulls still braving the frigid weather didn’t stand a chance against the Hunters’ defensive perimeter around the gate or the chattering guns of the Humvees. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a howl. Sounded like it could be one of the Skull-wolves.

But none of that mattered. They were getting the hell out of here. The Humvees rolled into the front gate and skidded to a stop, pushing up a pile of snow. Three soldiers rushed out of the vehicle. They strode over the snow straight toward him.

“Captain!” the lead soldier called.

Dom could not help but smile at the sound of that voice. “Terrence!”

He greeted the man with a one-armed hug. Then his eyes widened as he recognized Rachel and Rory in their cold-weather gear.

“Shepherd really did send his finest,” Meredith said, greeting the trio.

Frank limped toward them last, favoring his left leg. He didn’t wear a mask like the others. His cold-reddened features were frozen in an expression of grief.

Dom knew from Frank’s look that he had bad news. The pilot had dodged Dom’s initial questions, promising to apprise him of everything in person. Saying it would be easier.

“How’s the Huntress?” Dom asked.

Frank cracked. He pressed his eyes into his sleeve. For once, the smarmy pilot had no quick-witted reply. “She’s gone. The whole ship.”

Terrence gave Frank a brotherly embrace. The pilot shuddered before collecting himself. Might have been the cold. Might have been something else. He straightened as if he could will the tide of emotions back with only the right posture.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Frank said, lurching toward Dom. “They came for us. Destroyed the ship... and damn near everyone on it.”

Dom felt fingers intertwine with his. Meredith gave him a squeeze of reassurance. Gasps and muffled curses echoed around him.

“No, no,” Miguel said. “What the hell are you talking about, bro? This is not a funny joke.”

Jenna was shaking her head. “The ship has been through a lot. We’ve always brought her back, no matter what.”

Glenn had an arm wrapped around Lauren’s thin frame. And despite his bulk, the look on his face made Dom believe another gust of the cold breeze would knock them both over.

A hole formed in Dom’s gut, threatening to suck him in.

“This time she isn’t coming back.” Frank reached Dom, his eyes locked on Dom’s. They were pools of emotion. Depths leading to a darkness that pulled Dom right out of his own head and into Frank’s. Before Frank even said the words, Dom already knew. The air that caught in his lungs and muscles constricted so tightly he couldn’t breathe or think or even see. His whole world collapsed into a pool of grief.

All his pain, the pulsing of injuries old and new, faded like the forest under a blizzard. The injuries were still there, but they were so distant they might not exist at all.

“My girls?” Dom asked, trying the words on his tongue. The unreality of it all was almost a certainty to him. The Oni Agent outbreak might yet be a nightmare. But his girls being gone—that was unthinkable. Impossible.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Frank said, eyes pinching closed, stifling a snob. “I fucked up.”

A sudden gout of rage welled up in Dom. He wanted to fling Frank across the snow. Pulverize him like he had the elder Spitkovsky.

Anger was an unpredictable and unrighteous master.

Dom knew it wasn’t right. That the beast of rage rattling through his body should not be let loose on Frank or anyone else with them now. That would only be another victory for Spitkovsky.

“I know you did everything you could,” Dom forced out. He tried to mean it, but his world was going black. An urge to scream and cry and punch everything in the vicinity hit him all at once.

Frank didn’t seem to accept that answer. “Captain, we lost so many. But we’ll get them back.”

Dom blinked at him. “Back?”

The pilot shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know where Spitkovsky took them, but we’ll track them to the ends of the Earth. I’ll fly you there myself. I swear it.”

He struggled to process the words. They seemed to filter down slowly like water dripping into a pit.

Meredith squeezed his hand again. “Frank,” she said, “just to clarify. You’re saying that Spitkovsky kidnapped Dom’s daughters. Is that right?”

Frank hung his head. “I’m sorry. I sent them ahead to the chopper while I went for Sam and Chao. Never should have let them out of my sight.”

Dom almost cried out in relief. Kidnapped was bad, but it was infinitely better than the alternative. The next several minutes went by in a blur. A war of emotions. Anger first, followed by sweeping rainfalls of deep sadness. As Terrence’s rescue squad loaded up the scientists and the rest of the Hunters, Frank continued to apprise Dom of everything the pilot knew of the attack. Cliff was gone. Thomas might be lost, too. More than half the survivors were seriously wounded.

Dom listened as they bounced along in the back of the Humvee, headed back toward the C-130H that would take them out of Siberia. The snow continued to fall. Meredith leaned into Dom. She had been holding his hand since Frank had first delivered the news. She remained present for him, letting him absorb everything until finally he could no longer bear to face this reality on his own.

“It’s too much,” Dom said.

“It always has been,” she whispered back.

The other Hunters around him were absorbed in their own hushed conversations or silent contemplations. Miguel peered out a window, watching the trees blur by. Lauren and Glenn spoke quietly. One of Jaguar’s medics tended to Navid. Morphine had since dulled his agony, but he continued to groan softly.

The wipers on the windshield smeared the blustering snow away. They zipped back and forth in a hypnotic dance. If Dom didn’t know any better, he might have thought Mother Nature was trying to bury them. Let the world forget about the freshly reunited Hunters and all that they had tried to do to save the world.

And in the end, Spitkovsky had escaped. With Dom’s daughters. The Huntress destroyed. His first mate had likely perished along with so many others of the crew who had fought to their last breaths to save humanity.

“I used to like the snow,” Dom said. “Liked the silence in the woods when it blanketed everything. Peaceful, you know? Reminded me of the times I’d take Kara and Sadie sledding or building snowmen. All those silly things you do with kids in the winter.”

Meredith gave him a sympathetic smile. Just enough to let him know she was listening.

“I never had enough of those times,” he said. “Every day I spent at sea or out in the field was a day I didn’t spend with them. I don’t remember Kara’s first word. I wasn’t there. I can’t tell you what Sadie did on her first day in kindergarten. Couldn’t tell you who Kara went with to homecoming or even when she decided to go to the University of Maryland for biology. Can’t even tell you what Sadie’s friends look like or what part she had in The Nutcracker two years ago.”

He paused, looking at Meredith. Her eyes brimmed with tears. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was feeling the loss of the ship and their crew or if she was just feeling sorry for him.

“In a twisted way, I thought maybe this whole disaster would give me a second chance,” Dom continued. “If we were stuck roaming the world together, then I’d know the girls were always safe on that ship. Safe because I saved them from Maryland. Brought them with me when everything else was going up in flames.”

Dom put his face into his palms. He took in a slow breath.

“Frank won’t stop apologizing for failing me,” Dom said. “But he didn’t fail anything. It was me who failed them. Me.”

Meredith didn’t say anything for several minutes. The crunch of the snow under the Humvee’s tires and the growl of the engine filled the cabin. Dom let his thoughts simmer, trying hard not to ball his fingers into fists. The other people in the Humvee seemed preoccupied now, but he knew that they would be looking to him as their anchor soon. He felt the weight of that responsibility more than ever before.

“You haven’t failed them,” Meredith said. “It’s bad, Dom. I won’t sugarcoat it. I’ve never been good at that sort of thing. But it’s Spitkovsky we’re talking about. If he wanted anyone dead, he wouldn’t have bothered taking them off that ship. He’s toying with you. Just like infecting us all with the Heikegani Agent. He wants to control us. The girls are still alive as long as he thinks he can do that.”

Dom thought about what she was saying. She was right, of course. Spitkovsky had long sought to control the Hunters—and him in particular. The vendetta against them must’ve been deeper than Dom imagined. He’d spent so long out at sea sabotaging chemical and biological warfare threats that he hadn’t carefully considered what happened to all those who saw their pet projects destroyed. Watched their life’s ambitions torn apart by Dom’s work.

Spitkovsky, given his madman’s thirst for revenge, would hold a grudge. He wanted it so badly he’d keep Dom alive just for the satisfaction of watching his pain.

“Our work has cost us so much.” Dom could barely get out the words. “Cost the girls so much. And in the end, it didn’t make much of a difference.”

“I know how you feel,” Meredith said. She let go of his hand for the first time, tightening both hands around her rifle. “We’ve made sacrifices most of the world will never know about. And we can never get back all those moments we missed. But for every one of Sadie’s soccer games you missed, every time Kara aced her exams and you weren’t there to celebrate, we were working to make sure other families all over the world didn’t miss those moments.”

Then it was Meredith’s turn to let out a deep breath. “Until we missed one. Just one. Until...” She choked on her words. “Until I missed this one.”

That had taken an unexpected turn. Meredith had been a rock for Dom. Yet all this time, he now realized, she’d been carrying the burden of unfathomable guilt. He couldn’t convince her to let that burden go. So he did the only thing he knew would carry them forward. Force them to confront reality with whatever darkness it held.

This time he grabbed her hand, balling her fist into his. He stared into those emerald eyes until she met his gaze.

“This isn’t over yet,” he said. “Ship or not, we will find Spitkovsky. We will get the girls back. And we will win, once and for all.”

-24-

The sight of the Huntress lying nearly sideways on the shore made Meredith’s stomach flip. Frank had prepared her for the sight. But somehow it was still more shocking than she could have imagined. Almost as if she’d walked into a house where an entire family had been murdered by some ax-wielding maniac.

“There she is,” was all Meredith could manage.

“It is the saddest thing I have ever seen,” Andris said, kneeling in the snow. He crossed himself.

Meredith knew the sight of the ship itself wasn’t all he was talking about. The Latvian man cared about the ship; it was his home, after all. But the wreck was now haunted by the souls of all those who had been on her last voyage. Fought the FGL to the bitter end.

The Huntress had already been thoroughly searched by one of Jaguar’s teams. They’d brought back the wreckage of computers and supplies that looked nearly as charred and scarred as the ship itself.

But no survivors.

“She’ll be missed,” Dom said. “So will all those who lost their lives. We can always get another ship.”

Dom’s bottom lip trembled. Meredith thought she spotted a tear budding at the corner of his eye. She had to turn away, rubbing at her own eyes.

Reports from the initial search crews were grim. They had already confirmed the remains of Thomas and Cliff along with so many others. Meredith had seen the names. She’d heard the same details everyone else had. And yet she still wanted so desperately to believe that what she was seeing with her own eyes was nothing but a mirage.

The Hunters gathered in a small group on a rocky outcropping. Daylight sparkled over the chunks of ice and whitecaps splashing around the ship. The sun gave the illusion that the day should be far warmer than the bone-chilling temperature freezing Meredith into place.

In her mind’s eye, she saw the corridors of the Huntress in better days. She heard Thomas’s grizzled laughter. Saw Alden walking down a passage beside Kara, talking about some engine matter. Sadie throwing a tennis ball against the bulkhead. Maggie chasing after it.

She didn’t bother wiping away the tears. No one else would judge her for them.

“Damn it all,” Glenn said. “I know that every one of those people wouldn’t want us sitting here feeling sorry for them or ourselves. They would want us to carry on. But I can’t shake it, man. I can’t shake it.”

Jenna’s bottom lip trembled, and she blinked away the snowflakes resting on her eyelashes. “Can’t logic yourself out of emotion.”

“No, but I can shove a brick of C4 down Spitkovsky’s throat,” Andris said.

“You can,” Miguel said. He flexed the fingers on his prosthetic hand, disturbing the icy layer that had formed on the polymer fingers. “But killing Spitkovsky doesn’t bring our brothers and sisters back.”

“It will stop him from taking more of them, though,” Meredith said.

Terrence looked at her. “That’s good enough reason for me.”

“I’m going to miss that ship,” Lauren said. “My lab, everything. That was my home for so long...”

“Don’t worry,” Terrence said. “You’ll get your land legs back.”

Miguel wiped away a frozen tear and forced a laugh. “Come on, bro. That ain’t fair. They gave you land legs. The rest of us still have our old ones.”

Terrence laughed, joined by a few of the others. Their laughter was perhaps a bit forced. Meredith could sense their desperation. Their desire to cling to any scrap of humor was like a sailor clinging to a floating mast from his sunken ship. They needed it to survive the darkness that suffocated them, both outside and in.

Then Meredith heard a familiar sound. A tapping of claws on stone and ice. She turned, a tingle traveling up her spine.

It wasn’t a Skull responsible for the tapping. It was Maggie.

The dog wagged her tail, weaving between the Hunters. She showered them with the slobbering caress of her tongue, constantly whining, her entire back half heaving to and fro with the power of that tail.

Dom walked up behind her with Frank by his side. The dog was jumping up on Miguel now, painting his face in her slobber. Maggie was a welcome distraction, a brief reprieve most seemed glad to welcome.

A shaky smile formed across Dom’s lips. “Frank said she tried to protect the girls.”

“Of course she did,” Meredith said.

Dom turned to O’Neil, the only Hunter who didn’t seem to be petting Maggie.

“You afraid of her?” Dom asked.

O’Neil waved his claws. “Just don’t want to hurt her.”

Meredith didn’t buy that. O’Neil had the ability to precisely handle a firearm, and he shook the hands of people he met just like any other person. But he recoiled slightly whenever Maggie approached him.

Now that was something, Meredith thought. In this despicable world, O’Neil was still a little scared of dogs. She couldn’t imagine what the Oni Agent–ridden wolves had done to him.

For a while they mourned together. Laughed together. Did their best to support each other. They were injured warriors honoring the sacrifices of their comrades.

Dom went silent, looking like he was listening to someone over his comm link. “O’Neil, Mere, I could use you both back at the village.”

“Found something?” Meredith asked.

“Maybe,” Dom said.

They piled into a Humvee. Instead of one of Terrence’s Jaguar team members driving, Frank slid behind the wheel. He turned to Dom, Meredith, and O’Neil. “Sorry, Badass Airlines has been downgraded.”

They took off, kicking up a rooster tail of snow behind them. Meredith felt part of herself stay behind with the other Hunters, with the Huntress, still soaking in the emotion of it all. She wanted time to mourn. To remember those who had died.

But there would be more than enough time to mourn later after they’d vanquished the FGL. It was either that or become one of the fallen.

“Captain,” Frank said, interrupting the quiet looming between the group. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. Any idea how long until you go all Hybrid on us?”

Before Dom could speak, O’Neil did.

“It’s not a matter of turning gradually,” O’Neil said. “It’s not like the Skulls. It’s like an avalanche. A slow build until suddenly it takes you over.”

“Understood,” Frank said. “Reason I ask is that Terrence’s team told me they didn’t bring a whole lot of Halo over here. Didn’t think there’d be so many Hybrids to treat. Much less you guys.”

“I didn’t expect anything else,” Dom said. He rubbed his hands together. Meredith wondered if his knuckles weren’t a bit larger. If maybe his nails weren’t starting to grow longer faster. Turning yellow. “But we’ll endure what we have to until we get out of here.”

“I’m just saying,” Frank said, “we could get out of here a lot sooner. Maybe stop at an EU base or some other NATO stronghold. Pick up some Halo pills.”

“We will,” Dom said. “But I don’t want to go out of our way for it. Not when Spitkovsky might still be close.” He looked at O’Neil. “Besides, if we’ve learned anything, being a Hybrid is not a death sentence.”

Meredith knew he had tried to mean that as a way to reassure the others. But no one was buying it. Not even him, judging by his pained expression.

O’Neil offered a weak smile. But Meredith saw the sorrow in the man’s eyes. The pity he must have felt for all of the others knowing they would soon be going through what he had endured. She had seen the pain O’Neil had endured. The man had made it clear that sometimes he thought death would’ve been a better sentence.

Meredith feared the day claws pushed out of her fingers, but she couldn’t let that hold them back now. Not when she had a mission to finish. A man to find and destroy.

And she knew it wouldn’t hold Dom back either.

Eventually they pulled into the remains of the village outside the airfield. Meredith, Dom, and O’Neil got out of the Humvee, and Frank drove it back. The C-130H lay dormant, an icy film forming over it. A group of soldiers milled about a generator chugging outside one of the village’s blown-out houses. Dom led Meredith past a door hanging by a single hinge. Inside, everything was covered in snow. Tattered sheets were hung where the windows had once been. A stream of frozen water formed a pillar from a rusted faucet on a counter that was barely more than a slab of wood propped up by crates.

Along that counter, the melted remains of computer cases were laid out, looking like they would be at home in a Salvador Dali painting. Samantha brooded over them.

“Samantha,” Dom said. “You doing all right?”

The tech looked back over her shoulder. “I’m doing fine. Just fine. Chao’s the one hurting. I’m doing fine.”

O’Neil shot Meredith a look of concern. Samantha wasn’t usually one for social norms, but this was out of character.

“You find any time to sleep yet?” Meredith asked, stepping closer.

“Doesn’t matter.”

From what Meredith had heard, Samantha had been working nonstop. First, she had been focused on some device Chao had given her. Then, after Jaguar’s search-and-recovery efforts on the Huntress, she had piecemealed a computer system together from the remains of the electronics workshop.

It had been nearly twenty-four hours since the Huntress had been destroyed, and throughout all that turmoil, Samantha had holed herself up here, promising she would find Spitkovsky. Meredith hoped the woman had a plan, that she wasn’t just driving herself crazy with the effort.

“O’Neil, I want you to go check on the medics,” Dom said. “Help them figure out the proper dose of Halo pills. I trust you to help them figure out how to make it last.”

“You got it, Cap,” O’Neil said.

Through one of the fluttering sheets, Meredith watched him cross into a larger building. There the medics from Jaguar, Divya, and Peter had set up an impromptu clinic, treating the injured. The building wasn’t in much better shape than this shack, and the medics were just trying to get everyone in shape to fly. Meredith wanted to check on Chao and Sean, but she decided to stick close to Dom.

“Samantha,” Dom began again. “Any progress?”

Samantha hit the side of the monitor. It flickered. This time the picture on it held still.

“Eureka,” she said turning to them, wild-eyed.

Meredith put a hand on Samantha’s shoulder. “If you need to take a break—”

“Can’t,” she said. “Not now.” Her fingers worked across the keyboard. Not in the crazed typing action of television hackers. But deliberate, slow strokes. As if she had to think about each move. “There. There we go.”

She stood back from the monitor. Half of it was marred with a dark splotch, evidence of when the LCD screen had been smashed aboard the ship. But the rest showed a clear image of a map of the globe.

Samantha clicked on her mouse, and the image zoomed in.

“I got him,” she said. “I mean, Chao got him. Or Thomas did. Injected one of those GPS devices just like Spitkovsky used on Matsumoto back in the day. Same kind of thing. He can’t hide from us.”

Dom took a step forward, eyes going wide. His fingers brushed across the computer screen.

“We can track him,” he said.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Samantha said. “So what now?”

“We go after him, of course,” Dom said.

Meredith inched forward, unable to believe what she was seeing on the map. Of course they were going after Spitkovsky. There was no question about that. But she had expected him to be closer. Maybe somewhere in Russia, or at least in this part of the world. She halfway suspected he would end up back in Japan, back where the Oni Agent had its origins.

The location Samantha’s map showed was the last place Meredith had ever imagined Spitkovsky could be. How he had gotten there safely was a mystery. But then again, he’d taken the Huntress unaware. The man was capable of unbelievable things.

“Good God,” Meredith finally said. “We’re going back to Washington, DC.”

***

Shepherd couldn’t believe the news. The Huntress was gone. But the Hunters—at least some of them—still remained. And now...

“If we’ve got Spitkovsky on our soil,” Shepherd said in a near whisper, “then we’re in more trouble than we could have ever imagined.”

Lieutenant Vasquez looked at him from across the conference table. It was just the two of them in the conference room this time. None of the civilians. Not even any of the other officers.

“I have a hard time believing it, sir,” Vasquez said. She had always been frank and honest. It was why he trusted her. Why, during the apocalypse, she’d become more than simply a comms officer. A confidant. “How could Spitkovsky be here? Can we trust Captain Holland’s intel?”

Shepherd nearly laughed. Instead, he merely leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes. “Look, Spitkovsky set off the Oni Agent in a coordinated attack, catching us all with our pants down. We’re seeing civilians turn into Hybrids with no idea why or how. Spitkovsky has a global network that we never anticipated. Captain Holland told us not to underestimate that mad Russian, but that’s exactly what we did.”

“So what do we do about it?” Vasquez asked. “Do we send a team to investigate?”

Shepherd leaned across the table, elbows resting on it. He looked out into the CIC, separated from him by a pane of glass. Fingerprints were smudged all over the glass. No one had bothered to clean it. No one had had time.

“The only expendable team we had is with Dom right now,” Shepherd said.

“What about Falcon or Banshee?” Vasquez said. “They’re both on deck.”

“Can’t send anyone else out,” Shepherd said. “Not with that last report on the Skull numbers around base.”

“Shit, yeah, I guess that makes sense,” she replied, then she looked up at him with an expression of surprise. “Sorry, sir.”

“No need.” Shepherd waved her off. “‘Shit’ is an appropriate description of what we’re deep in. Get Kinsey on the line.”

“Yes, sir,” Vasquez said. She dialed the encrypted line for General Kinsey.

“Shepherd?” Kinsey’s voice boomed a moment later.

Shepherd picked up the handset and dismissed Vasquez with a wave. She nodded and hurried out, shutting the door behind her.

“Did you get the memo I sent you, sir?” Shepherd asked.

“Spitkovsky’s in DC,” Kinsey said, his voice laced in anger.

“That’s what Holland says.”

“That’s what Hollands says,” Kinsey parroted.

“Look, sir, I know you’ve had an off-and-on-again relationship with the man, but—”

Kinsey cut him off. “Shepherd, I’m not bullheaded enough to ignore when I’ve been wrong. I acted in the best interest of our country when I could, making the best decisions based on the information at hand. The CIA has long since pulled back their accusations that Meredith Webb and Dominic Holland were double agents. You don’t need to reassure me that intel from them is more likely to be correct than it is wrong.”

“Glad to hear it, sir,” Shepherd said. “Do we send a team?”

The line went silent for a second. Very unusual for the blustery general.

“General?” Shepherd prompted.

“Look,” Kinsey said, his voice gruff. “I’ve received the latest surveys from every base that we’ve still got comms with. I saw yours on my desk this morning. Let me just say, you’ve got it better than any of the others.”

“Sir?” Shepherd asked.

“You and I saw the same numbers. You got more Skulls hanging around Detrick than there were people in Frederick. Bomb the shit out of the place like you’ve been doing, and I guarantee those numbers are still all going to go up. Let me ask you this: have any of the Skulls mounted an attack on the base over the past two days?”

“No, they haven’t.”

“Exactly,” Kinsey said. “Same story around the rest of the country. Every safe zone, every military base, every civilian stronghold is besieged by Skulls. More Skulls than we’ve ever seen. The whole population has been mobilized against us, and somehow they’ve kept their distance. You ever hear of a Skull with self-control?”

The growing weight of dread pulled on Shepherd’s insides.

“Something’s out there,” Kinsey continued. “Controlling them. You know as well as I do it could be Hybrids or Titans or whatever else the FGL has cooked up.”

“You think the FGL has Hybrids here, riling up the Skulls? Using them as foot soldiers?”

Kinsey waited a beat, leaving Shepherd in suspense.

“I know Hybrids are a part of it. We’ve got hundreds of sightings—some verified, most not—of suspected Russian Hybrids roaming the rest of the country.”

“But that’s not what you’re talking about,” Shepherd said with sudden insight. He didn’t like where this was going.

“You and I both know we’ve dealt with plenty of civilian Hybrids. But the thing that worries me are the civilians who aren’t turning themselves in to be treated and quarantined. It’s the ones who are out there right now. If Spitkovsky has his own Hybrids mixed in, how could we tell the difference? And worse yet, his strategy has always been to turn our civilians against us. That was the point of the Oni Agent. Who is to say it isn’t the point of the Heikegani Agent too?”

Shepherd thought of all the Hybrids sheltered in that gymnasium. Of Caldwell lamenting that the Halo pill supplies were dangerously low. After having been pain free again, what would that do to them? What would that do to any of the Hybrids outside of Detrick?

Good Lord, if Spitkovsky did have his men mixing with the civilian Hybrids, Shepherd had no doubt the FGL would be giving civilians their first taste of the Halo pills.

Living and working in Frederick, he hadn’t been too far from the Beltway to hear the gossip leaking out of DC. He had once heard from a cop friend of his about a drug they called krokodil on the streets. Dealers would give people just one taste. And after that injection, those users would come back within twenty-four hours for the next dose looking for an escape from reality that only krokodil would give. The name made the drug sound like it was from a cheap science fiction movie, but the stuff was all too real.

Krokodil destroyed people. Literally. It caused massive patches of skin necrosis, exposing the addict’s tendons and muscle. And still those addicts would come back. They would do anything for krokodil. The drug was a death sentence.

Such a thing caused a normal person to turn themselves into a monster.

He had no doubt that some of the civilian Hybrids—people who had never asked to be turned into monsters—would be willing to do anything to save themselves the pain. Made monstrous by their undying desire to feel whole, to feel human again.

And if the FGL was the only one with a ready supply, then Kinsey must be right.

“I want to send out some scouts,” Kinsey said. “In fact, I want to send out a whole team to wipe Spitkovsky out. But we’ve already got entire armies at our gates. I smell blood in the air.”

“So you’re not sending anyone to search for Spitkovsky?” Shepherd said, needing Kinsey to say it clearly.

“Would if I could,” Kinsey said. “But every base still reporting to me tells the same story. After the supply chain disruptions, they have precious little ammunition. Food is scarce. And people are somehow even scarcer. I’ll do what I can, but the best thing you can do is bunker in and prepare the defenses. You can expect the enemy at your gates within the next two days.”

“You’re certain?” Shepherd said.

Kinsey let out a guffaw. “I haven’t been certain of a damn thing during this war, but right now, I’d bet the entire country on it. If Spitkovsky really is in the United States, it’s because he’s about to make a move. Last thing we want to do is send our troops out after him and leave all the survivors defenseless. A move like that would be damn near suicidal.”

Shepherd wanted to push Kinsey further. But the general was right. Shepherd didn’t have the forces to spare. He could barely keep a decent perimeter around the freshly built walls of Detrick to keep the Skulls at bay. They’d already lost the base twice to the Skulls. They might not be able to retake it a third time.

“You will send someone in though, right, sir?” Shepherd asked.

“They’re already on their way,” Kinsey said.

“Who?”

“The Hunters. Who else?”

-25-

A haze filled Kara’s head. Somewhere in the distance, pain reverberated through her limbs and down her spine. She tried to move her fingers, curling them so they tapped her palm. All but one of her fingers scratched her skin. The pinky on her left hand hurt. Wouldn’t move.

She wondered if maybe it was broken. The problem was that she could barely feel her hands at all. Zip tie restraints cinched her wrists together, nearly cutting off her blood supply.

Slowly, she blinked away the fog obscuring her vision. Snowflakes of light sparkled wherever she looked, fragments of the pain ebbing and flowing inside her skull.

As her vision returned, she saw she was in what looked like a small conference room. She was propped against the wall near one corner. Six puke-green fabric seats sat around a dust-covered oak table.

“Where am I?” she asked.

No one responded. There was no one at the table.

“Kara...”

At once Kara’s heart leapt. Memories flooded back to her. The Huntress burning. Alden dead in the engine room. Thomas trying to stop Spitkovsky. Hybrids pulling her and Sadie into a sub.

She stood. Her legs nearly gave out. She had to balance herself by leaning against the back wall. Her head felt light as she straightened, and she nearly fainted. Kara was forced to rest a moment, her weight against the wood-paneled wall.

At least her ankles weren’t bound together. She stumbled forward. Momentum nearly toppled her.

God, she was probably concussed or something. She felt like she wasn’t totally there.

“Kara...?” The voice called again. “That you?”

Unmistakable. Weaker than she’d ever heard it. But it was Sadie. She was alive! Not just alive, but with her in the same room. It was more than enough to send Kara skipping toward her sister.

Like Kara, Sadie’s hands were tied behind her back. She was propped in the corner. The bastards didn’t even bother to set her in one of the chairs. Dried blood crusted her nostrils, and her right eye had swollen up, blue and purple. A split in her forehead had scabbed over. But none of that stopped the slight smile crossing Sadie’s lips.

Sadie tried to stand.

“No, don’t,” Kara said.

Instead she flopped down beside her sister, pressing their shoulders together. She wanted so badly to wrap her arms around Sadie and pull the girl in tight, but that would require a miraculous feat of flexibility that she just couldn’t muster. Sadie cried quietly for a minute. Maybe more. Kara laid her head atop her sister’s as best she could, letting the girl’s hot tears soak into her blood-and-oil-stained shirt. Eventually Sadie sniffled, cheeks wet and mucus dripping.

“Where are we?” Sadie asked, her voice quaking.

“I don’t know,” Kara said. She looked around the room for clues. But there was nothing on three of the four wood-panel walls to give her any indication of where they were. Then she saw a simple placard above a door that read Secondary Emergency Operations Center (SEOC).

It was in English. No other languages, either. That was a sure sign to her they weren’t in Russia anymore.

But the options of where they could be bothered her. Leaning away from the wall, she twisted so she could see behind her. The fourth wall was mostly wooden panels like the other three. But there was a middle section that appeared to be slatted. She stood, wishing once again she had the use of her hands.

Without them, she used her nose to push one of those vertical slats. It rotated ever so slightly with a little gentle pressure, allowing her a view through a glass window on the other side. She saw a much larger room beyond. One that looked like an auditorium. Rows of seats faced a stage with a podium. Two flagpoles stood behind the podium, both stripped of their flags.

All around the podium and the chairs, Kara saw Hybrids dressed in full battle gear, rifles strapped over their backs. Several looked to be officers, commanding groups to go this way or that. Beyond the auditorium, she saw a large set of closed steel doors. Above them was another sign that read Command Information Center. Other passages led away from the auditorium, each filled with Hybrids and FGL soldiers running up and down the cement-floored corridors.

Then she saw one of the Hybrids step up toward the podium. The room began to grow calm. At first, she thought it was Spitkovsky, but the man was too small. Not to say he wasn’t big. He just wasn’t Spitkovsky big.

As he spoke, Hybrids and soldiers stood at attention. The voices and footsteps reverberating through the walls quieted.

“What’s going on, Kara?” Sadie asked from her place in the corner.

“I don’t know,” Kara said. “Trying to find out.”

She scanned the stage around the speaking Hybrids. A map showed on a screen behind him. Red dots appeared all across it as the Hybrid pointed to various locations. Locations she recognized.

All those spots were located around the DMV area—DC, Maryland, Virginia.

If she had to guess, she would say they were military strongholds. The Hybrid continued pointing at them then at the gathered audience.

Kara squinted. She couldn’t quite read the words on the map from here, but she definitely recognized Frederick, Maryland. The city where she’d grown up. Where her mother had turned into a Skull. Where Fort Detrick still stood, a defiant scientific power with all the hopes of the United States’ future pinned to it.

There was a large red dot there. Arrows coming at it from all sides.

It took no leap of imagination for Kara to figure out what that meant.

The Hybrid at the podium reached down to the floor. Now Kara could see where the flags from those poles had ended up. The Hybrid grabbed the remnants of shredded, soiled fabric. He held it up in front of him. Despite the tears and stains, she could still recognize the red and white stripes and the stars against a field of blue.

With a roar, the Hybrid tore the flag in half. The room erupted in a furious cry, all the FGL soldiers and Hybrids leaping to their feet.

***

Gray clouds clotted the sky. Light flurries of snow had been blowing over them sporadically. Just enough to give Detrick a light frosting. Shepherd and Vasquez marched over the sidewalk toward one of the family housing units that had been turned into a civilian shelter.

Townhomes lined the streets. People filed up and down the sidewalks in front of them. Some wore the uniforms of service men and women, others wore yellow vests marking them as members of the civilian corps. Shepherd turned up one of the drives to a multifamily townhome complex with four units. Each pair shared a drive with individual garages.

“That’s it,” Vasquez said, pointing to the door next to the second garage. “Pearson’s family is in here.”

Shepherd rapped on the door with the back of his knuckles. He heard the sound of voices yelling inside, coupled with the cries of disgruntled children. After waiting ten seconds without the door budging an inch, he knocked again.

“This is Colonel Jacob Shepherd. Open this damn door now.” Another few seconds passed, and he looked at Vasquez. “Probably should’ve sent the MPs to take care of this.”

“You wanted Pearson to know you were serious.”

“That I did,” Shepherd said.

The door finally opened. A bedraggled woman wearing a stained white shirt answered. She used one hand to keep a toddler, no more than three, from running out the front door.

“Colonel,” she said with an audible sigh. “John told me you’d be dropping by. I’m Mary, his wife.”

“Good, then you’ll lead me to him?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes, sir.”

She scooped up the three-year-old, and the boy began screaming, his face turning red. Inside the house, the smell of cooking onions and garlic filled the air. More voices emanated from the kitchen. It sounded to Shepherd like another young couple. They were arguing about rations and whether they should use one or two cups of rice. Though this house had once been a mere three-bedroom home suitable for a small family with a couple of children, with the influx of civilians, each room now contained a family unit. More people sat on the couches, blankets and suitcases surrounding them. More families that had been crammed in here.

The home itself had a musk to it that even the smells from the kitchen couldn’t cover. Shepherd was familiar with the smell. He’d learned it well from his days as an enlisted man. It was the odor of human beings in confined quarters without adequate space or time to keep themselves and their surroundings cleaned.

For some reason, given every time Pearson came to civilian board meetings with his chin held high, Shepherd had expected him to have an apartment to himself and his wife and kids. Hell, he’d almost expected Pearson to be living in one of the old officer or executive homes on base. He knew it was illogical, but at the same time, these living conditions shocked him.

“He’s upstairs.” Mary stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The voices from the kitchen were growing louder than a Skull’s hunting cry. “I’ve got to help out in there. Our room is the second on your left.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Shepherd said. He started trudging up the carpeted steps. Deep stains marked the carpet. Mud and oil and whatever else the people living here dragged in gave the floor a mottled gray appearance.

Shepherd went to the door Mary had indicated. Vasquez stood beside him. She had one hand on the handle of her holstered pistol.

“He’s a jackass, but I don’t think we need that,” Shepherd said.

“If he stole the Halo pills, he’s more than a jackass.”

Shepherd knocked on the door. Without waiting for a reply, he entered.

Pearson sat on the edge of the bed. A few piles of clothes lay in the room around him, along with some cardboard boxes filled with electronics and photo albums. Things the Pearsons must’ve once thought were valuable when they’d fled their home to come to Detrick. Shepherd noticed a picture frame in Pearson’s hand. Pearson stared at it, not bothering to even look up to acknowledge Shepherd’s entrance.

“I know why you’re here,” Pearson said. He traced one finger over the picture in the frame then set it on the bed next to him. Now he looked up, regarding first Shepherd then Vasquez. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

“I need to know where those pills are.” Shepherd nodded to Vasquez. She began to sift around the room, nudging the clothes with her feet and pulling open drawers.

Pearson didn’t even react to the search.

“I don’t know anything about pills,” Pearson said. “I’ve never been on drugs.”

“Come on, Pearson. You just told me you knew why I was here.”

“Caldwell probably sent you my way.”

“She told me someone stole most of the Halo pill supply,” Shepherd said. “Very few civilians are authorized to access those pills, and even fewer of them know why the Hybrids need to take them.”

“I never told anyone about them,” Pearson said. “I upheld my oath on the civilian board.”

Vasquez pulled out a drawer and emptied its contents on the floor. T-shirts and jeans flopped out in a heaping pile.

“Pearson, I saw your face when Caldwell joined the board. Your distaste of Hybrids isn’t a secret. Tell me what you know.”

Pearson shook his head, eyes wide. Finally, he stood from the bed, meeting Shepherd face to face. “I swear, I had nothing to do with it. Those Hybrids are a damn danger, and the last thing I’d want is for them to be off their meds. Christ.”

Shepherd thought to press him further. But Pearson seemed sincere. He had met plenty of liars in his career. Plenty of bullshitters willing to say anything to climb the ranks.

In his gut, he felt that Pearson just wasn’t one of them.

“Tell me, then, why do you think I’m here?” Shepherd asked.

“I stormed out of that meeting like a child,” Pearson said. “I’m not too ashamed to admit it. I think having a Hybrid in the room with us is an affront.”

“Why?” Shepherd said. “They’re just as human as you and me.”

“Human?” Pearson asked. “Maybe. But they’re sick. And worse...” He slumped back onto the bed then grabbed the picture he’d dropped before. “They look like Skulls.” Now Pearson turned the photo around so Shepherd could see it. “That’s Matthew. My other son. Was my other son.”

Something gleamed in Pearson’s eyes, and he turned away, staring down at the crumpled quilt covering the bed.

“The Skulls took him. Right from our house just after we’d loaded the car to escape. Thirty more seconds and he would be here with us. Me, Mary, Lucas, and Matthew. But the Skulls took him. They took him and they...” Pearson stopped, covering his mouth with a hand.

Shepherd could say nothing. He hadn’t expected the man to open up like this. Not about something so terrifying and intimate.

“Every time I look at a Hybrid, every time I see their claws, all I can see is Matthew being...” Pearson reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Look, Colonel. You want to know what happened to those pills? Soon as I heard they were gone, I started asking around. Figured it was better to be proactive so I could avoid a situation like this...”

Shepherd took the paper from Pearson’s shaking fingers.

“The Hybrids are monsters,” Pearson said. “Can’t be trusted.”

Shepherd read it. Just a single name. Maurice Vaughn. It didn’t register.

“That’s your culprit,” Pearson said. “Not me.”

Vasquez stood at the corner of the room, poised to upend one of the cardboard boxes. With a nod from Shepherd, she slowly set it back down. She shrugged.

“How do you know?” Shepherd asked.

“Does it matter?” Pearson asked. “One word, and you can find out for yourself. Three kids. A wife. His parents and in-laws are here, too. All Hybrids. He heard there was a Halo pill shortage.”

“How?” Shepherd asked.

Pearson looked to the side. “I told him.”

“What?”

“Look, I tried to give these people a chance,” Pearson said. “I invited Maurice to dinner with my family. The guy grew up in the same town I did. Thought it’d be common ground for us. He knew more than he let on. Stole my damn keys. Then stole those pills.”

“You got proof?” Shepherd asked.

“You can go ask Maurice yourself. He was here at dinner one night, then my key was gone. Now I hear Maurice is distributing pills to other Hybrids on some kind of black market.”

“Vasquez, watch him,” Shepherd said. “I’ll be back.”

He stepped into the hall, ignoring the sounds of crying children from downstairs, and made a call to the MPs. In a matter of minutes, they had raided Maurice’s place and found the pills. The guy fessed up immediately—in tears, from what they told Shepherd over the radio. His story jived with Pearson’s.

Shepherd went back into the room. Vasquez was still hovering over Pearson. The man seemed to be utterly catatonic.

“You were right,” Shepherd said, taking a step closer. “Look, I’m sorry for your loss. As much of a pain in the ass as you are, I could still use you on the civilian board.”

Pearson looked up at him. “My answer’s no. I’m done with the board. So long as a Hybrid is there, I won’t be.”

“You might change your perspective on Hybrids serving beside Caldwell.”

“Doubtful.”

“Pearson, I could transfer you to any other shelter in this base. Worse than this place. I could make your life hell.”

“But you won’t.”

Shepherd glared at him.

“You’re a better man than that,” Pearson said. “Look, Colonel. What happened to those Hybrids is permanent. They’ll never be normal people. They’ll never act like normal people. You can’t say anything to convince me otherwise.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Because I can’t imagine what they’ve gone through. What they’ve seen. What happened to me is permanent. The changes in me can never be reversed, and I spend half my days thinking about blowing my brains out or everyone else’s around me. Now, if I saw myself or my kids turn into those monsters?” He shuddered. “I can’t even imagine what the Hybrids are thinking. I’m done with the board.”

Shepherd motioned to Vasquez, and they left. Pearson didn’t say goodbye. He merely sat on that bed, staring at the picture of his lost son.

The research labs at Detrick were busy enough producing the Pacifist Fog and the Tenth Plague all while attempting to crack the Halo pill. They had no time to come up with treatments to reverse the Heikegani Agent. Still, Pearson’s words haunted him as they walked back down the street and got into their Humvee.

Were the changes in the Hybrids permanent? Even if the FGL was defeated, would those people ever be able to lead normal lives? And what was to say that the Heikegani Agent wasn’t lurking around the United States, slowly spreading in people just like the Oni Agent had?

Those concerns would have to wait. For now, Shepherd needed to track down all the missing Halo pills. Vasquez drove them back toward headquarters. But before they even made it back, a voice squawked over Shepherd’s radio.

“Colonel Shepherd, CIC.”

“Shepherd here.”

“We’ve got movement,” the comms officer said. “Skulls are pouring out of Frederick... and they’re headed straight for our gates.”

-26-

The C-130H pushed through the gray clouds over Washington, DC. They had already made a pit stop at Lajes Field in the Azores Islands. The stopover there had been bittersweet. Once again, Dom was reminded of another lost ally. Colonel Ronaldo was not there to greet him with his usual boisterous handshake and wide grin. The man had been lost in the battle for Moscow.

Now there was another officer in charge. Not that there was much to manage anymore. Lajes Field seemed nearly empty. The Portuguese Air Force had taken heavy losses during Operation Thunderbolt.

Dom made the tough decision to leave half of his team behind at Lajes along with the scientists from Black Swan that they’d rescued. Chao and Navid were simply too injured to go on. Chao hadn’t opened his eyes once since he’d been taken off the Huntress, and Dom wasn’t convinced the man would live to see the end of this war. Sean, when he was awake, merely groaned, blinking groggily through the morphine haze.

Everyone not trained for field missions stayed behind at the Azores. That included Samantha, the rest of the medical team, and both of their pilots. The C-130H wouldn’t be making any more stops. Shepherd’s last desperate call to them had made sure of that.

According to the colonel, the Skulls were mounting some kind of coordinated attack on all the military bases and civilian strongholds left in the DMV area. Landing at one of those bases amid a firefight wasn’t going to be easy. Dom couldn’t guarantee anyone’s safety, but at least the people he left behind had a better chance of surviving.

“All right, people,” Dom said, looking at the Hunters assembled before him. They were joined by Rachel and Rory, along with the rest of Team Jaguar—a motley array of Special Forces men and women who had been assembled to carry out missions from Shepherd. “According to our tracking estimates, Spitkovsky is somewhere around the US Capitol. We’ll be landing in the National Mall.”

There would be no parachuting on this mission. Instead, they would land directly in the fray, hopefully catching Spitkovsky off guard with a rapid ground attack.

“We’ll have limited air support,” Dom said. “If we’re lucky, we’ll get a few drones and one of the C-130 gunships if Kinsey can spare it from Joint Base Andrews.” Dom looked each of the Hunters in the eye. “But don’t count on it.”

A shiver of pain snaked through his limbs. It felt like a snake wrapping itself around his bones, making a home there. He had no illusions what that was. They’d already used up what few Halo pills Team Jaguar had brought.

“Our job is going to get underground as soon as possible,” Dom said. “We’ve navigated through DC before. We’ll do it again. Make no mistake, there’s going to be hell on earth when we land. We won’t have long to deplane. Avoid prolonged engagements with the enemy.”

“You got it, Chief,” Miguel said. “We won’t stop to party.”

Turbulence shook the plane, and Dom grabbed a handhold, steadying himself.

A voice cracked over the plane’s intercoms. The pilot. “Lieutenant Warren speaking. We’ve got reports from all bases now that Skulls are on the attack. Sightings of Goliaths, Droolers, Titans, and even Chimeras.”

“Christ,” Glenn said. “Spitkovsky has had us on our heels. Sent us flying around the world after him, and this whole time he’s been readying for a final push against the US.”

“It doesn’t sound pretty down there,” Jenna said.

“I don’t care what the reports say,” Andris said, “this is not over until I give Spitkovsky the presents I made for him.” He patted his tac vest where he’d stowed his new plastic explosives.

“We took out Spitkovsky’s father,” Dom said, “so you can imagine the bastard is going to be upset. Prepare for the worst.”

The plane shook again. This time, Dom heard the rattle of weapons opening up below them.

“Coming in hot,” Warren reported over the comms. “We’re going to make this fast as possible. Ready for departure.”

Dom and the rest of the Hunters positioned themselves at the C-130H’s rear gate.

“Landing in sixty seconds,” the pilot reported.

The plane bucked and metal groaned, reverberating throughout the cabin.

“I’m seeing scattered Skull hordes,” Warren said. “At least three Titans. Possible Chimeras. We’re going to have to make this really quick.”

Andris crossed himself, eyes closed in silent prayer. Miguel’s jaw was set as he stared off at some point only he could see. Glenn had his rifle hanging on its strap as he rubbed his knuckles together. O’Neil was talking in a hushed voice with Jenna, who was nodding.

Meredith looked at Dom, her emerald eyes ablaze with determination.

“We’ve got this,” she said. “This is the endgame.”

The plane slammed down hard.

“Contacts on all sides!” Warren yelled.

As the roar of the air brakes increased, loud bangs echoed through the craft. The plane abruptly came to a stop, and the rear ramp hissed as it lowered.

“We got roadkill,” Warren reported. “Skulls throughout the National Mall.”

“Hunters, ready!” Dom bellowed.

Terrence waved Team Jaguar forward. The thirty men and women on that team wouldn’t be joining the Hunters, but they would at least provide the spearhead to get the Hunters through the FGL ranks.

The rear ramp hit the ground. Team Jaguar spilled out first, guns immediately blazing. They shouted between the cracks of gunfire. Dom and the Hunters filed out next. Terrence left the rest of Team Jaguar behind as he, Rachel, and Rory joined the Hunters. The FGL apparently hadn’t had time to organize a proper welcome party. Skulls ran at them, growling and shrieking, but the Hunters were used to fighting the mindless beasts.

Armor-piercing rounds cut through the bony plates bursting from their gray flesh. Bodies crumpled and rolled across the mud and grass.

Beyond them, Dom saw the Washington Monument. Or at least what was left of the obelisk. Half of it lay in rubble. Flanking the rest of the Mall were the ruins of the Smithsonian museums, places Dom remembered taking his daughters on the weekends. To think that Spitkovsky was here now, potentially dragging the girls with him, sent another stab of pain through his gut.

A grenade exploded somewhere to their right with a low boom. Smoke filled the air. Limbs and pieces of ragged flesh flew from where Skulls had been.

Dom searched the chaos, adrenaline surging through his vessels. He spotted the familiar red spires of the Smithsonian Castle. The tops of the spires no longer ended in gray steepled roofs but in ragged shards of brick and stone as if they’d been shorn off by a massive scythe.

Beyond them lay the Smithsonian Station, which would take them into the shelter of the metro. That was where they would disappear as Team Jaguar drew the FGL’s and Skulls’ attention before taking flight again.

“This way!” Dom roared.

He dodged the raking claws of a Skull then sent a flurry of rounds straight through the thing’s chest. Warm blood splashed against him. An animalistic fury beat at the back of Dom’s mind at the coppery odor. A beast was chained there, rabid and yearning to be released.

It took everything in him to not unleash a spray of gunfire into the ranks of the Skulls running across the open field toward the C-130H. The longer they prolonged the fight here, the more Skulls would gather. The FGL would notice, and their mission would be over before it began.

“Drooler!” one of Team Jaguar’s numbers yelled.

The belch of acid sounded, followed by agonized screams that Dom had become all too familiar with.

“We’ve got to move!” Meredith shouted, firing into a Skull’s chest as it reached for her.

The Hunters barreled through the melee, slinging gunfire into those that had gotten too close and parrying the attacks of others who had gotten even closer. Behind them, Team Jaguar did their best to keep the Skulls’ attention. More explosions showered the Mall with clods of soil and flesh. Skulls screeched under the onslaught of bullets.

Ahead, Dom could see the escalators that led to the metro tunnels.

“Almost there,” Dom said to the others.

Then came the metal-breaking sound they’d heard all too often in Baghdad. A shriek that nearly made him clamp his hands over his ears.

Dom’s mind went dark.

It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Almost like his thoughts were swimming in murky water, his senses dulled. He could still see and hear, but it was as if there was a lag between what was happening in the world and what his mind registered.

“What the hell is going on?” Miguel shouted.

“Chimera,” O’Neil said. “This is what they do to Hybrids.”

Dom felt that cave of blackness in his mind spread to the rest of his body. When he raised his rifle, aiming at the creature now revealed among the ruins of the Smithsonian Castle, his fingers felt numb. He squeezed the trigger, spraying gunfire that shattered through bits of the giant Chimera’s armor.

The beast wasn’t as big as a Titan, but it still rose above the height of a Goliath. Enormous claws scythed from its sinewy arms. Deep caverns showed where its eyes should be, and bat-like ears sprouted from the sides of its face as it emitted a high-pitched clicking.

Echolocation of sorts, Dom knew. Didn’t matter now. Couldn’t think straight. Had to keep fighting.

The monster’s belly protruded slightly, and Dom could hear the rumble of acid being readied for launch.

“Take that bastard down,” Dom yelled.

Those of the Hunters not already engaged with Skulls leveled their fire at the Chimera. The beast raised a hand filled with claws, each capable of shredding a man in two. It covered its face with those claws, and the bullets smashed against them, barely chipping the bone. So long as the creature was on the defensive, it wouldn’t unleash an acid attack.

But when two more Chimeras wormed their way around the wreckage of the castle, Dom nearly collapsed in despair. Behind them, Team Jaguar was already packing up in the C-130H, having taken too many losses to stick around any longer.

Dom searched for a way around the Chimeras. They didn’t need to defeat them, just get past. Then they could escape into the tunnels, where giants couldn’t fit.

Three Chimeras, Dom thought. We can handle them. We’re faster. Smarter.

Even through the darkness they cast over his mind, he knew they could make it. They had to.

He thought of the girls. Thought of Spitkovsky with them. Down there, somewhere in the Capitol building complex. Around him, fusillades of gunfire tore through Skulls and peppered the Chimeras. Maybe Andris could just blow the damn things up. He’d enjoy that.

No problem.

The C-130H began to take off, banking slightly toward the National Gallery of Art. Then the echoes of those metal-breaking cries resounded across the Mall. Two more Chimeras worked their way out of the rubble of the National Gallery. Others stomped across the street from the National Archives. Some stared into the sky, catching the C-130H with their clicking echolocation.

Several of them launched a volley of spraying acid. Others flung their huge claws like medieval catapults. The organic missiles slammed against the plane. One caught an engine. A flash of orange light cut through the sky, followed by a series of low booms.

Then the plane went down, disappearing into the streets beyond the museums. Monstrous black clouds billowed up as several of the Chimeras descended on the crash site.

“God, no,” Jenna said.

The Chimeras that hadn’t gone to investigate the crash were headed toward the Hunters now. And with them came the flood of Skulls who had survived Team Jaguar’s onslaught.

It was no longer just three Chimeras the Hunters had to get around. It was the whole damn horde.

-27-

Meredith sighted up the nasal cavity of one of the Chimeras. An oppressive bleakness weighed heavy on her mind. She now understood what O’Neil had gone through when they were in Baghdad. And worse, she knew it was a sign that the Heikegani Agent was taking her over, slowly but surely.

Eventually, if she lived past today, she would look like the monsters now rushing to the Hunters’ position.

A squeeze of her trigger sent rounds lancing into the Chimera. It recoiled from the shots, its arms slamming into the sides of the Smithsonian Castle. Rubble fell around it. But as the dust cleared, she saw the beast wasn’t dead. Just in pain and eager to join the assault by the rest of its brethren.

She thought about the Pacifist Fog grenades strapped to her chest. They might buy the Hunters a few seconds, but the National Mall was far too open for the grenades to have a substantial effect on the gargantuan monsters.

“We aren’t going to make it,” Andris said. He was preparing an explosive. “I must say, Meredith, that it has been an absolute pleasure to be your comrade.”

“Shut up, Andris.” Meredith twisted to fire on a group of Skulls charging toward him. “We’ve got to make it.”

They had precious little cover, resorting to the burned husks of vehicles left in the streets. The cars provided shelter against the Skulls and Droolers. But to the Chimeras and Titans, they would be no more of a bother than insects easily crushed beneath their feet.

Then, between the cries of the monsters and rattle of gunfire, she heard something else. A distant roar. Not a monster. An airplane.

Several of them.

“Hunters, Reaper here. Kinsey sent us. We’ve got eyes on hostiles,” a voice sounded over her comm link. “Stay put.”

For a moment, nothing happened. The creatures continued their advance.

Then the sky rained hell.

The unmistakable whine of an AC-130U’s GAU-12 Equalizer sprayed rounds into the Chimeras nearest the Hunters. Huge slices of bone and flesh flaked off as the beasts were vaporized by the sheer onslaught of the 25mm rounds. Splashes of fire and growing clouds of dust billowed into the air, followed swiftly by the throaty boom of the howitzer and the bark of the Bofors 40mm gun.

Skulls flew from the blasts, limbs shredded. Titans roared as their bodies fell apart around them, and Chimeras shrieked, dissolved by their own spilling acid as rounds chewed through their bodies.

Meredith could picture that plane flying above them, circling amid the clouds, strafing their enemies. It was an angel. A guardian angel—or an angel of death. Whichever it was, Meredith was damned glad it had arrived.

“Let us know when you’re clear,” the pilot said over the channel. “We only have a small window of time before we’ve got to return to Joint Base Andrews.”

“Copy,” Dom replied over the comms. “And thank you.”

Meredith had a hard time believing Kinsey could only spare this single plane to assist their mission. An aircraft like that packed a hell of a punch. And if Kinsey was keeping them close to the other bases and civilian strongholds, things were worse than she could have ever imagined.

Miguel took point as they barreled across the muddy lawn strewn with Skull remains. They charged toward the metro station. One of the Chimeras had fallen in front of it, letting out a pool of black acid. Steam simmered off the nearby corpses of Skulls as their bones and flesh liquified. The stench nearly overwhelmed Meredith.

But despite the gruesome scene, her head felt lighter. Freer. The Chimeras were dead and no longer had their stranglehold over her infected brain. She leapt over one of the Chimera’s claws.

The entrance to the metro was before them. Wooden barricades had collapsed in front of the escalators. Meredith hurdled over the wreckage, and the Hunters plunged into the depths of the metro.

This time, at least the darkness wasn’t in their heads.

“We’re clear,” Dom reported to Reaper. “Thank you, boys.”

“Godspeed,” the pilot replied. “When you see Spitkovsky, give him a good kick in the nuts for me.”

“Copy,” Dom said. Then, to the Hunters, “NVGs on.”

Meredith pulled her optics over her eyes. Everything around her lit up in a bevy of greens and whites. The world underground was no better than the one above. Desiccated corpses were scattered over the metro tracks. Most were nothing but skeletons with shreds of leathery flesh hanging off them. Many of the bones were cracked open. Skulls had undoubtedly sucked out every last ounce of their marrow.

One train was stuck in the station. The windows were stained with something Meredith could only assume was blood. A door was propped open, blocked by a boot still attached to a leg. The leg was attached to nothing.

A cold breeze carried through the tunnels, whispering across Meredith. Odors of carrion came with it. The familiar smell of Skulls.

But the scents seemed stronger than ever before. As if she was face-to-face with one of the beasts, inhaling its fetid breath. That aroma sparked something deep in her mind. An almost blinding anger seeped into her nerves. Adrenaline began its cold surge through her vessels, and her vision started to narrow, her heartbeat accelerating.

“Focus on centering your minds,” O’Neil said. “I can sense the pheromones leaching off you guys. You’re more Hybrid now than you realize.”

“Shit. That means the FGL could sense us, right?” Miguel asked.

“Exactly,” O’Neil said. “You’ve got to learn to control this like I did, or Spitkovsky is going to smell us before we’re even out of the metro.”

“How long did it take you?” Meredith asked.

O’Neil let out a gruff laugh. “I’m still learning.”

“Great,” Miguel said. “I have a feeling things are going to get a lot harder down here before they get easier.”

“Nothing’s going to be easier until we’ve got Spitkovsky,” Dom said.

“Then the sooner, the better,” Meredith said. She tried to keep an image of a beach in her head. A place she always pictured her and Dom spending time with the girls after this was all over. A place where the sun always shone, and the waves lapped the shores. Meredith made herself imagine every detail. Shells of all shapes and colors. Something Meredith could spend her days collecting, leaving nothing but wet footprints that would get swallowed up by the waves again as she walked under the morning sun.

“Meredith’s getting it,” O’Neil said.

That knocked Meredith out of her concentration. Suddenly, she could smell and see the tunnel ahead more fiercely than before.

“Scratch that,” O’Neil said. “Meredith, you had it. Close, but I’m feeling your anger again.”

Miguel had been right. Today’s mission was going to get harder. A hell of a lot harder.

***

Fort Detrick’s CIC was filled with radio chatter. Men and women hunched over desks and computer monitors. Officers moved between them, responding to requests hurled about the room.

Shepherd stood at the back of the CIC, where he could watch the largest displays on the front wall. Several of them showed camera views from around base. He could see the remains of Frederick, now filled with Skulls climbing over buildings and flooding the streets. The creatures were like a cloud of locusts descending on the Earth. Among their numbers, he could see the giant bodies of Goliaths. And in the distance, he thought he saw Chimeras or Titans.

“They’re advancing,” Vasquez told him.

“Deploy Pacifist Fog,” Shepherd said, “and tell our perimeter forces to open fire.”

The flash of machine-gun fire filled the camera views from the gates and walls. Skulls went down in waves, cut down by the volley. But from what Shepherd could see, that had about the same effect as throwing a bunch of rocks into the ocean.

Canisters of Pacifist Fog shot into the Skulls’ ranks. Tendrils of the red mist wafted through the battlefield. Detrick didn’t have enough of the stuff. They might have been the producers of the Fog, but they’d been shipping their supplies all over the country.

And with the winds, Shepherd saw the Fog wasn’t going to be as useful as he’d hopped.

Skulls marched over their dead brethren, storming through the streets and rubble. Some wavered in the Fog, but most continued on.

We’re not going to make it, Shepherd thought. He wouldn’t dare voice the words aloud to the men and women organizing their defenses. If Detrick’s gates were breached again, he feared this would be the final time. Detrick would not survive.

“Where’s our air support?” Shepherd asked.

Another comms officer spoke up. “We’ve got two gunships en route. They’ll be within firing distance in approximately five minutes.”

“Five minutes,” Shepherd repeated. They had to hold off the attack until then. But a lot could happen in five minutes. Images of when the Goliaths had stampeded over their walls played across his mind. He saw his men and women falling to their claws. Saw the broken remains of the helicopters that he’d had to scour through, looking for the AT4 rocket launchers he’d used to kill the beasts.

“North Gate is reporting Drooler sightings,” another officer said.

“Any within striking distance?” Shepherd asked.

“Negative,” he replied. “They’re being held back.”

All across the monitors, Shepherd saw the machine gun nests ripping into the Skulls. Mortar rounds flew over the walls. Bodies rag-dolled into the air. Tongues of flame erupted where explosive rounds pounded the earth.

A Goliath charged through the throng of dying Skulls. Huge, elephantine tusks curled out of its mouth, and it lowered its head as it charged the East Gate. Shepherd held his breath. Rounds smashed against the Goliath’s body. Pacifist Fog tugged at the creature, but it was barreling too quickly through the smokescreen for it to have any effect. Blood started to trickle from some of its wounds as the creature loomed larger in the camera’s view.

The injuries didn’t seem to be slowing the beast. It raced ahead of the other Skulls.

“Come on, take that thing down,” Shepherd muttered.

The monster was close enough now that Shepherd feared no bullets would take it down. And indeed, no bullets did. Instead, the speakers transmitted the hearty whoomph of barrel-mounted grenade launchers. A series of explosions rocked the earth around the Goliath, knocking it off balance. Then an explosion burst around the creature’s chest. Its ropey innards erupted into the sky, its ribs breaking and flying like organic shrapnel into the Skulls around it.

The beast was gone. But even as Skulls trampled its remains, Shepherd spotted several more.

“Where’s that air support?” he called out.

“Two minutes, sir!”

Civilians rushed between the gunners’ nests, carting fresh supplies. Somewhere he heard the boom of one of their M1A1 Abrams tanks launching its own assault. The tanks were devastating against Skulls, but even they could be overwhelmed if a Goliath got too close.

Another voice yelled out from the front of the CIC. “Sir, we’ve got confirmed Hybrids!”

“Where?” Shepherd asked.

Mindless monsters were one thing. But Hybrids? Good Lord, people as smart and capable as his soldiers, with weapons to match...

One of the monitors on the screen zoomed in. Atop a three-story building still standing in downtown Frederick stood a soldier with a rifle peering over the lip of the roof. Horns brimmed around the Hybrid’s head.

And he was not alone.

Other Hybrids were perched along the roof, their rifles strapped over their backs. Still more stood in the streets like rocks amid the stream of Skulls rushing around them. They were resolute as they guided the attack on Fort Detrick.

“So the FGL has shown themselves,” Shepherd said.

“There’s something else going on with the Hybrids,” one of the officers, Lieutenant Saito, said as he pointed toward a monitor. “Look!”

There were yet more Hybrids stationed around the edge of a park. Trees, split and shredded by gunfire, lay around them. These Hybrids didn’t wear the characteristic black fatigues of the FGL. Rather, they wore a menagerie of clothes. Civilian shirts and jeans. A firefighter’s uniform. The remnants of suits and dresses, all piecemealed together.

“What in the hell is going on with them?” Shepherd asked. “Sure they aren’t just more Skulls?”

“They aren’t acting like it,” Saito said. “The way they’re standing, upright like normal people. Check out their faces.”

The view wasn’t good enough to get any kind of high-resolution image. But even from the pixelated view Shepherd studied, he could see the grim look painted across their bony features.

They looked scared.

Behind and around these civilian Hybrids, Shepherd noticed more of the FGL variety.

Good God, he thought. A knot formed deep in his gut.

He recalled Caldwell’s words about how the Hybrids would do damn near anything to get their hands on the Halo pills once they’d had a taste. How the pain in their minds was sometimes too much. How the Heikegani Agent constantly wormed through their body, promising them a miserable existence until they died—or found some kind of miraculous relief.

“Are those homegrown Hybrids?” one of the officers asked.

Shepherd said nothing. But he already knew the answer. These people had been mobilized against their own country.

“Oh God,” Shepherd said.

“Colonel, air support is on location. They’re opening fire now!”

“Tell them—”

Light flared across all the screens. The room’s speakers shook with the concerted blast of the gunships’ rounds crushing the FGL’s ranks. The world around Detrick had become an inferno. Shepherd’s breath caught in his throat. The screen that had showed the civilian group of Hybrids was masked in dust. Chunks of foliage still raining down from the fusillade from the planes.

“Those were civilians,” Shepherd said. “Our people.”

Most in the room didn’t seem to have heard him. But Vasquez looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Sir, I don’t think those were our people anymore,” she said.

The Hybrids are different, Shepherd thought, recalling Pearson’s words. They’re not people. They’re monsters.

He didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t believe it.

But as the dust settled, he saw that not all the American Hybrids had been killed. Across the monitors, Shepherd saw the same scene play out with the Skulls and Goliaths and Chimeras. Those that had been spared from the airborne assault let out a chorus of roars. The speakers in the CIC could barely handle the noise. A second later, the sound rumbled over the CIC from outside as well.

Then the Hybrids, Skulls, everything else—all of them charged.

-28-

The persistent beep of an alarm pierced the cacophony of the Lajes Field medical clinic. Lauren weaved around a group of medics carting in a new patient. Pain echoed through her body. Every muscle felt weak. Every bone brittle.

She had a long way to recovery. Starvation and beatings weren’t exactly kind on a body, and that was not something one could bounce back from overnight.

But knowing she was no longer a prisoner of the FGL gave her newfound hope. So long as she could breathe, she would not stop fighting for the lives around her.

She searched through the sea of faces until she saw the light flashing above a patient’s bed.

“What do we have?” Lauren asked, closing in on the patient.

“Cardiac arrest,” Divya said, already there. “Suspected internal hemorrhaging.”

Lauren looked at the woman in dirty, bloodstained fatigues. She didn’t need to check the patient’s charts to know this was one of the NATO soldiers who had been stationed in Madrid.

Since yesterday, they had been flooded with evacuees from Europe. The FGL wasn’t just attacking the United States. They had targeted strongholds across the Continent as well. And Lauren feared they were just seeing the tip of the spearhead. Rumor was that they could expect hundreds of new evacuated patients by the end of the day.

Not that they could handle it. But no one was asking them whether they could or not.

She needed to prepare for the influx of patients. Now, though, there was little time to think about things that would happen. Hardly enough time to think about the things that were happening.

“Defib,” Lauren said. “Where are those paddles?”

“Got ‘em!” Peter said, wheeling the cart over. “You know, I didn’t train to be a surgeon just to become a field medic...”

“Yes, we’re all overqualified,” Lauren said. “But here we are.”

Peter let out a huff as he flipped the defibrillator on to charge. Lauren pulled off the top of the woman’s patient gown and dried the sweat covering her chest. She took the paddles from Peter.

“Divya, better make sure we’ve got another IV bag ready to go,” Lauren said. “Blood transfusion, too.”

The defibrillator let out a beep, and Lauren placed the paddles against the woman’s skin, one above her right breast and the other on her left side.

“Clear,” Lauren said.

Peter hit the button on the defibrillator, and a buzz sounded from the machine. The woman’s body jolted slightly. But the EKG still showed her flatlining.

“Charging,” Peter said.

Lauren held her breath. She studied the stitches along the woman’s chest and the mottled yellow and purple bruises covering her flesh. All gifts from the Skulls.

“One more time,” Lauren said. “We’ve got this.”

Another shock. Lauren stared at the EKG, holding the paddles.

This time the familiar spikes returned.

“She’s back!” Lauren looked around the clinic, where similar scenes were playing out. One of the Portuguese air force medics finally joined them and took over the woman’s care.

“Who’s next?” Divya said, staring around at the chaos.

A normal unit like this would have more clear-cut organization. But the sheer number of people, both patients and those jumping in to help, meant that no one had time to bother with anything other than the next emergency. It didn’t help that not everyone spoke English. With people flooding in from all across Europe, it was a challenge to find a common language.

“Maybe we should check on our people,” Lauren said. “Might not have another chance for a while.”

“I’ll take Sean,” Divya said. “We’re trying to wean him off the painkillers. Surgery seemed to have gone well.”

“Of course it went well,” Peter said. “I did it.”

“And Chao?” Lauren asked.

“He’s still in rough shape,” Divya said. “Swore I saw him open his eyes though.”

Lauren walked down an aisle between patient beds. Outside, the roar of a plane’s engines announced another aircraft taking off. Probably to bring in the next batch of patients.

Navid lay on a cot, bandages wrapped around his torso. His eyes were red. Not with the inflamed blood vessels that came from the Oni Agent, but from subcutaneous hemorrhaging as a result of the beating he’d taken while helping Dom take down Boris Spitkovsky. He blinked as Lauren came near almost as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Hey, Navid,” she said. “Long time, no see.”

He grimaced as he turned his head to look at her. “It hurts... to breathe.”

Lauren placed a hand on his. Navid’s fingers were cold, and she gave them a squeeze. “It’s going to be that way for a little while. But you’ll pull through. You’ve come a long way already in a short time.”

“I know.” He paused. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“Doubted me?”

“You were right,” Navid said, not meeting her eyes. “The Hunters came for us. I wanted to save my family by cooperating with Sokolov. And now, they might well be dead.”

“We don’t know that,” Lauren said.

“After what we did to the FGL in Siberia, why would they let my family live?”

Lauren didn’t have a good answer for that.

“If they can be saved, they will be,” she said at last.

“I already lost them once,” Navid said. “I can’t live through it again.”

He let out a breath that quickly devolved into a coughing fit. Lauren squeezed his hand again and helped support his head. When Navid recovered, he propped himself up, groaning as he did.

“I thought of something while I’ve been lying here,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“You know the project Sokolov had me on?” he asked.

“Creating a drug to prevent the Phoenix Compound from entering the blood–brain barrier. I saw the paper he gave you.”

“Good,” Navid said. “And Samantha managed to get all the data from that lab back to Detrick, right?”

“I believe so,” Lauren said.

Navid’s eyes brightened, the excitement cutting through the mask of pain and despair.

“Then we have to try it,” he said. “I think I figured out a way to destroy the Heikegani Agent without killing an infected person.”

“You mean for people with early infections?” Lauren asked, thinking of Glenn and the rest of the Hunters.

“Not just them,” Navid said. “For every Hybrid.”

***

Dom led the Hunters up the stairs to the Capitol South Metro Station, the closest they could get to the Capitol building itself. Chewed-up skeletons lay scattered around them amid piles of refuse. Abandoned luggage was ripped open, clothes fluttering in the breeze circulating through the station. The exit led them up to the street. Next to them was a parking lot filled with big, canopied tents. Most had since collapsed, their olive drab fabric billowing in the cold winds. The military seemed to have set up some kind of outpost or triage center here at some point then decided to abandon it.

“This way,” Dom said, leading the Hunters between the fallen tents. A few rotting corpses sprawled across their path. Dom noticed a couple of gurneys. One still had a patient attached to it.

Judging by the size of the skeleton, he guessed it was a child. But it was no normal patient. Horns grew from its skull. Each of the fingers ended in hooked claws that would make a falcon jealous.

“Every time I see one like that, it gets me,” Glenn said.

“The Oni Agent doesn’t discriminate. Man, woman, child.” Jenna paused, trembling slightly before she went on. “Us. All the same.”

––––––––

Smoke climbed from the National Mall in huge dark columns. A few guttural roars from a Titan carried over the empty space. And now, Dom was certain he could feel a mass of Skulls and other creatures lingering about there.

“O’Neil, is it just me, or are there a shit-ton of Skulls back on the Mall?” Dom asked.

“Definitely not just you,” O’Neil said. “Seems like you guys are becoming more sensitive to the Agent.”

That wasn’t exactly news. Dom could practically feel the bones shifting around inside him. His stomach twisted with hunger, and the pain throbbing through his joints and limbs grew with every step.

Faster they took out Spitkovsky, faster they’d have access to more Halo pills again.

He yearned for that relief. Would do almost anything for it to free himself and his team from the hunger.

Dom cursed under his breath. He’d had no idea just how bad the Heikegani Agent would start affecting him. O’Neil had tried to prepare them, but hearing about all the changes was one thing. Experiencing them firsthand was something else. He had newfound respect for the Hybrid on their team.

They crept between the buses and cars stalled out on C Street, heading west. The US Capitol Dome peeked out at them over the marble and limestone facade of the Cannon House Office building. Somehow, amid all the destruction, the Capitol Dome still stood.

Dom didn’t believe in signs. With all that had happened to them, he had a difficult time believing any higher power gave a shit about them. But the sight of that dome and the Statue of Freedom perched atop it filled him with something he could best describe as hope.

Despite it all, the ideals that had driven him across the globe in pursuit of the FGL still shone strong. People were determined to eke out an existence for themselves, to help each other survive. And while he’d run across his fair share of criminals and assholes taking advantage of the chaos, by and large, he’d found allies across the globe. All people fighting for what was good. Fighting for the preservation of life. Fighting to allow people to be human.

That was all they could do now. Continue that fight.

The stakes had only gotten more personal for him. They couldn’t just win against Spitkovsky; they had to win against the Heikegani Agent.

Otherwise, no matter what happened after today, he and his team would be condemned to a life of pain and misery.

Skulls lingered in the streets around them. Most seemed in some kind of fugue state, eyes staring up at the clouded sky. Dom could feel the tendrils of pheromones permeating through the air from nearby Hybrids. Those biochemicals were responsible for the Skulls’ distraction. For once, that was a good thing.

So long as the Hybrids kept control of the beasts, those Skulls would remain mentally chained up.

Dom checked his smartwatch. “Looks like Spitkovsky is still in the Capitol.”

Andris brought his MK11 up to his eye and scoped out the street. “Hundreds of Skulls out there. How are we getting through them?”

“We’re not going through them,” Dom said. “We’re going under.”

“I didn’t bring any shovels, Chief,” Miguel said.

“Mere, you want to tell them?” Dom asked.

“All the congressional office buildings connect to an underground tunnel system,” Meredith said. “Been that way since the early 1900s. Gave Congress members a much easier way of getting between the Capitol building and their offices.”

Jenna scrunched up her face. “Then what? Just ask the Capitol’s visitor center staff where a crazy Russian might be camping out in there?”

“Something like that,” Dom said, conscious of the edge to Jenna’s voice. The normally perky Hunter was struggling with the effects of the Agent.

The doors to the Congress office were predictably locked. A combination of Miguel’s talents with the tools built into his prosthetic hand and Andris’s explosives got them inside.

They passed through the defunct metal detectors. Dom nearly retched. The halls smelled like a garbage dump with a fresh layer of rotten meat and vegetables that had sat in the sun for far too long. Down those corridors came groans and the slow tap of talons against marble. Skulls on patrol.

“Careful,” Dom said, glancing at his smartwatch. “Meredith, you’re on point. You know these passages better than any of us.”

“Hope so,” she said, maneuvering to the front of the group with her rifle shouldered. “I’ve—”

She stopped mid-sentence. Dom felt it too. An unfettered anger exploding in the back of his head. Inexplicable at first. Then he heard the familiar clicking. He wheeled around, peering into the optics of his SCAR-H.

There, in the shadows, stood a Slinger, its arm cocked back. Its bat-like ears twitched as the cavities where its eyes should be seemed to zero in on him. The beast’s arm suddenly shot forward, and three dagger-like claws slid out from its flesh, rocketing straight toward Dom.

-29-

Meredith instinctively dove behind the desk in the Cannon House Office Building’s visitor intake. She leaned out, aiming her rifle toward where they had spotted the Slinger.

Dom ducked just in time. The abomination’s claws impaled themselves in an oil painting of the forefathers signing the Constitution.

Meredith sighted up the Slinger and fired. The beast went low. Bullets lanced into the wall behind it. Dust plumed out of the fresh bullet holes.

“We got more coming from our six!” Miguel shouted.

“I’ll finish this one,” Dom said. “Meredith, Miguel, Andris, take those others.”

Meredith swiveled around the desk to face the corridor behind them. Chairs and other office furniture were scattered around the hall, providing cover for the creatures. Beams of light filtered in through the dust-covered windows. Slingers flashed in and out of that light as they slunk around the debris in the corridor.

The heat from their primal fury swelled in Meredith’s head. She was bombarded with a litany of clicks and high-pitched shrieks as the Slingers picked their targets. Claws whistled through the air, slamming against the walls or shuddering as they stabbed into wooden desks or tore through fabric chairs.

Meredith fired at the first shadow she spotted hurtling through the hallway. The creature went down with a high-pitched shriek. Others bounded over it.

“Watch out!” Andris yelled.

Meredith twisted around the desk as another Slinger lunged at her. She brought her rifle up to fire. The monster launched another volley of claws. Meredith dodged backward, her spine hitting the legs of a fallen chair. The creature advanced.

Andris looked like he wanted to help, but he was engaged in his own fight. All around them, creatures appeared out of the shadows or dropped from the second-floor rotunda balcony, joining the fray.

The Slinger attacking Meredith pounced. This time she grabbed the chair behind her and swung it at the creature. The legs broke over the Slinger’s body, and it tumbled backward. Before Meredith could finish it off, another came at her, its claws slicing through the air.

She caught the creature’s wrist. Instead of stopping it, she used its momentum, yanking the wrist downward until the Slinger’s claws went straight into the soft flesh of the first Slinger’s belly.

The first creature let out a wail of agony. A swift kick into the jaw of the second Slinger sent shards of broken teeth flying out of its mouth. Meredith slammed the creature’s head into the downed one, smashing their skulls together. She kept smashing until both creatures’ limbs twitched, blood spraying out of their wounds.

Meredith looked up from the bloody mess at her feet and saw it wasn’t just Slingers now. Normal Skulls had been called to the fight by the noise. They leapt from the balcony above or barreled down the corridors. As each one joined the fight, Meredith felt the fires of their animalistic rage burning in her brain. Her vision started to go red.

For a moment, she lost herself. She turned into a dervish of gunfire and slicing blades, tearing through the Oni Agent-raddled ranks. Andris was trying to fend off two Skulls and a Slinger lurching toward him. Meredith made short work of the Slinger, introducing the creature’s guts to the outside world with a swift cut of her blade.

As Jenna fired into the ranks of Skulls pouring down from above them, Meredith cut down the Slingers trying to go in for the woman’s back. A wanton hunger drove her body, desperate to feel the warmth of blood over her fingers. Never before had she wanted to see the death of so many creatures so badly. Each splash of a Skull’s blood on the floor was like a surge of opioids. Quick to please. Even quicker to leave her hungry for more.

“Meredith!” a voice yelled.

She swirled to see another creature baring down on her. She swung out with her rifle.

The creature caught it and pushed the barrel away. “Meredith! It’s me! It’s O’Neil!”

The Hybrid stared at her. Meredith understood the words but couldn’t stop the instincts firing her up. Everything within her wanted this Hybrid to die. Wanted O’Neil to taste the lead of her bullets.

“Meredith! It’s me! Focus, Meredith, focus!”

Something snapped in her brain. She dropped her rifle, appalled with herself, and tried to find her beach again. She felt the warm Caribbean waters around her toes as they sank into the sand.

And then the red faded. The world slowed around her.

She was back.

“We need to help the others,” O’Neil said.

Meredith saw that the Hunters were prevailing against the Skulls. The beasts were being beaten back as quickly as they came. But in the team’s eyes, she saw what she had just felt. Uncontrolled anger.

They charged headlong into their enemies instead of taking careful shots and protecting themselves. There was no organization in their assault. Just blind, dangerous fury.

“The Agent is taking a hold of them,” O’Neil said. “We’ve got to break them out of it.”

Meredith grabbed the Pacifist Fog grenade from her tac vest and yanked the ring. With a gentle toss, it rolled into the middle of the rotunda. Red gas hissed out, filling the space in seconds.

The Hunters continued to fight, but now Meredith could feel the calm of the Pacifist Fog. Each breath she took filled her body with a cool detachedness. The Skulls’ attacks slowed. Some of the beasts already stood still.

Soon the Skulls that were not frozen by the Fog were dead at the Hunters’ hands.

Miguel flicked his prosthetic wrist, the blade hidden inside it retracting. He shook his head, breathing hard. “What the hell was that?”

“That was what O’Neil deals with every day,” Meredith said.

“Damn, brother, watching you guys was insane,” Terrence said.

Rachel and Rory stood next to O’Neil, terrified expressions on their faces.

“Damn,” Rachel echoed. “When you all got going... I mean, you really got going.”

“And that’s what I’m talking about,” O’Neil said, pushing through the red mist. He slit the throat of a catatonic Skull standing near him. The beast crumpled. “You have to maintain focus. Because from here on out, things aren’t going to get better. They’ll only get worse.”

Meredith patted her tac vest. One Pacifist Fog grenade left. Even if each of the Hunters dropped a grenade to cover their trek through the tunnels below the Capitol, they wouldn’t have enough to get them through. They had to rely on the sheer force of will, their ability to mentally master the Heikegani Agent in their systems even as it perverted their bodies to its will.

Dom’s chest heaved. Sweat curled down his blood-spattered face. He looked at Meredith, then gave her a nod.

“Mere,” he said. “Lead on.”

***

Shepherd could barely get over the shock of what he’d just seen on the computer monitors in the CIC. Civilians—Hybrid or not—had been massacred by their own government. The people who were supposed to protect them had failed them so horribly they had ended up on the other side of this war.

He knew what the arguments would be. They would blame the civilians. Claim they were traitors. In a black-and-white world, that was enough. That should have made him feel better about what he had witnessed.

But Shepherd had talked to Hybrids. He knew their struggles. Their minds weren’t rotted like a Skull’s, but they faced pain and challenges no normal human could possibly understand.

Hell, Fort Detrick had studied the control the FGL had over all its Oni Agent and Heikegani Agent creations. Hybrids could be manipulated. They could be convinced to do things they otherwise wouldn’t do if they weren’t imprisoned by a body whose skeleton had grown outside of it.

“Colonel!” Saito looked back at Shepherd from his monitor. “Look!”

On screen, Shepherd watched Skulls flow like a tidal wave toward the North Gate. Those that fell under the wave of heavy machine gun fire and mortars were quickly replaced or else trampled by the Goliaths interspersed throughout the pack.

If Shepherd spent long enough searching the screen, he imagined he could find the Droolers and Slingers among the group, ready to spew acid or fling their weapons into his soldiers’ ranks. With the cover of the Skulls, it was much harder for Shepherd to discern which of the monsters were mindless beasts and which were actually Hybrids.

“What now?” Saito asked.

“Continue to focus fire on the North Gate,” Shepherd said. “Pull half our units from the South Gate. Split them evenly between north, west, and east.”

“Yes, sir,” Saito said, relaying the commands to their units.

Shepherd watched men and women rush across the screen, repositioning themselves to withstand the brunt of the attack.

“How much Fog do we have left?” Shepherd asked.

“Enough to sustain current deployment levels for another fifteen, twenty minutes,” another officer said.

That was not going to be enough.

Four Goliaths burst ahead of the pack. They barreled through their own ranks, smashing Hybrids and Skulls underfoot. Shepherd considered letting fly the rest of their Pacifist Fog stores. The gas would unleash the Skulls from the Hybrids controlling them. Goliaths were known to be aggressive toward anything and everything around them. Sometimes that included Hybrids and Skulls.

But, ultimately, even if Shepherd increased the dose of Pacifist Fog, it wasn’t going to save them. It might give them a few extra seconds. Those seconds wouldn’t be worth the increasingly obscured visibility thanks to the red fog drifting around the battlefield, making already difficult shots nearly impossible.

“The Goliaths are closing in,” Saito said unnecessarily.

Shepherd sensed eyes on him from all corners of the room. Other officers were glancing above their screens, distracted from their duties as they watched those four Goliaths. None of their responsibilities mattered if those Goliaths penetrated the innermost layer of defenses.

“Hold steady,” Shepherd said. “Direct Company Alpha to fire on those Goliaths. All mechanized units need to hold current positions and focus on the main horde.”

The Goliaths ducked low as the fire slamming against their bodies intensified. Fractures formed in their armor, and their wounds wept long trickles of black blood. They neared the walls, lunging through the fields. Until...

An explosion ripped through the air, and a cloud of smoke plumed from under one of the Goliaths. The creature tumbled forward. Its bottom legs were a tangled mess of ragged, wet muscle.

Nice shooting, soldier, Shepherd thought. Whoever had fired that barrel-mounted grenade deserved a raise.

Bubbles of blood dribbled out of the Goliath’s mouth. It pulled itself forward, slamming its heavy claws into the ground, dragging its body through the dirt. The rut it left behind was quickly filled by the Skulls that had been following it. And the other three Goliaths continued on, unperturbed by their dying brother.

Come on, Shepherd thought. Come on.

Three Goliaths, and they were nearing the wall. It only took one to breach their defenses.

Another volley of grenades, and a second Goliath went down, its chest caved in, limbs twitching like a dying cockroach.

Shepherd’s hands ached as he tightened his fingers into bloodless fists.

Another Goliath clutched at its face. Blood streamed from between its fingers. Someone had gotten a lucky shot in the bastard’s eye. Now the Goliath was going nuts, flailing around, causing as much chaos in the Skulls’ ranks as it did Shepherd’s men.

The fourth Goliath was no more than twenty yards away from the gate now. Behind it, the swarming Oni Agent forces were spread out among the killing field. The closer they got, the more of them died under the concerted gunfire. But once they followed the Goliath in, there would be no containing them.

“Take it out, damn you!” Shepherd said, no longer able to hold back.

Heat rushed through him. A dragon trying to escape. That Goliath had to die. There was no other alternative.

Grenades exploded around the beast, flinging shrapnel into its sides. Bullets tore into it. Every square inch of its armor was covered in blood, and yet, somehow, it kept moving. Slower now, but advancing nonetheless. Skulls pushed ahead of it. Some even climbed onto it, shielding the Goliath with their own bodies.

Finally, the mechanized units were in position. A volley of thunderous fire from the Abrams demolished the Goliath.

Machine guns swept the killing field now, no longer concentrated on the behemoths. A few Skulls leapt toward the walls. Some caught themselves in barbed wire. The longer they struggled, the more tangled they became. One got close enough to start scaling the wall. But before it made it over, a sharpshooter picked it off.

“Sir, we have Chimeras,” Saito said dourly.

There, amid the sea of Skulls and Hybrids, ran a half-dozen Chimeras. Beasts with the strength of Goliaths, catapult claws like Slingers, and acid-spewing mayhem like Droolers. Shepherd had never faced them in battle before, but they were now breathing down his front gate.

One of those Chimeras launched a volley of claws. The huge projectiles, damn near the size of a human, thudded into the dirt in front of the gate, kicking up a massive dust cloud that clotted his men’s view. And behind those Chimeras came more Goliaths.

This was not Shepherd’s day.

-30-

Dom tried to shake the headache burning at the back of his mind. Every inch of his flesh felt hot. Sweat stung his eyes. The farther Meredith took them into the tunnels under the Capitol, the worse the pain flooding his body got.

They plunged through darkened corridors intermittently lit by emergency lights. Most of the walls were covered by paintings and photographs, part of the annual Congressional Art Competition. Many of those frames had fallen to the floor. They lay broken, shards of glass spread over the concrete floor.

But decaying pieces of art weren’t the only things left down here. Bloody handprints stained some of the walls. Larger splashes of blood had dried dark along the floor.

The corridor grew grimmer as they went. Or maybe that was just the infernal hold on Dom’s mind. The growing influence of the Heikegani Agent.

He was becoming the very thing he’d set out to destroy. A monster birthed by a biological weapon.

God, all these dark thoughts...

He was driving himself mad. Pausing, he glanced behind to see Glenn still bringing up rearguard with Rachel and Rory. Terrence was there, too. Before him were Meredith, Andris, O’Neil, and Jenna. Miguel strode beside Dom. All prowling like the Hunters they were.

Dom checked his smartwatch. They were close to Spitkovsky’s position. No more than a few hundred yards, according to the map. He placed little trust in the absolute accuracy of GPS when their target, like them, might be using this underground infrastructure to conceal his whereabouts, throwing off an accurate position reading.

But, fortunately, he didn’t need the marvel of modern technology to tell him where Spitkovsky was—or at least where the largest concentration of Hybrids was located down here.

He could tell they were growing closer. Sense it.

The feeling wasn’t quite a smell or a taste. Rather something in his gut, urging him to keep going. Pulling him forward.

There were parts of him that wanted to run, to sprint down that corridor screaming a banshee cry and firing at every damn thing that moved. Then there were other parts that shrieked in agony. Every movement was torture as the microscopic bone nodules he knew were there migrated through his muscle.

“Careful,” O’Neil whispered to the group. “It’s getting stronger.”

He need not have warned them. The fray in the rotunda had been warning enough. They knew now just how easily they could be manipulated by the biochemical chaos in their bodies.

“Last resort, don’t be afraid to use your Pacifist Fog,” Dom said.

The weapons they had designed to work on their enemy now worked on themselves. A shudder went down his spine as he realized something else. That meant the Tenth Plague was off limits. It might damn well kill them just like it did the Skulls.

Ahead of them, footsteps echoed down the corridor. They had passed a few branching tunnels before, but there was nowhere else for them to go now. They were so damn close to the Capitol and the central structure of the underground complex.

“How many?” Dom whispered.

“By the sound of it, three or four,” Meredith reported.

The tapping on the floor told Dom it was Hybrids. They were just around the corner now. Their voices boomed. They were clearly having some kind of heated discussion.

“Spitkovsky sent them to check on the Cannon House Office Building,” Andris said, translating. “They think it is nonsense.”

“Then let’s show them they were wrong,” Dom whispered back.

He signaled for Meredith, O’Neil, and Andris to get in position. The first of the Hybrids came around the corner. Meredith lunged at him like an alligator bursting from a river. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pulled him to the ground. His fingers curled around her arm, trying desperately to pull himself free.

But Meredith was a jujitsu champion. Now that the Hybrid was on the ground, he was right where she wanted him. All he could do now was slowly suffocate.

The second Hybrid lasted only a second longer, his fate determined at the pointed ends of O’Neil’s claws. Simultaneously, the third found a knife sticking out of his neck. He clutched at the spilling blood as Andris drew the blade away and let the Hybrid collapse to the floor. The Hybrid kicked, his eyes bulging until they rolled up, blood spreading around him like a broken shadow.

But none of that made Dom feel any better. He saw the radio on the first Hybrid’s belt. Soon enough, that radio would come to life. A voice would demand a sitrep.

The Hunters’ clock had just started.

“We’ve got to pick up the pace,” Dom said. “Move out!”

Meredith disappeared around the corner with O’Neil and Andris. The rest followed swiftly behind them. The next hallway curved downward then ran straight into a T-intersection. There was nowhere to hide.

All they could do now was run into the unknown.

Soon, they would confront the man responsible for the apocalypse, and this time... this time Dom would not let him get away. And if Spitkovsky had harmed Kara and Sadie in any way, Dom was going to make him suffer before his death.

They hit the intersection. Lights buzzed on either side, flickering. They cast away the shadows for only a second or two at a time before darkness overwhelmed the passages, always taking back its territory.

Both directions looked the same. Each led to a cluster of other passages and doorways. Meredith probably knew the most likely place in this godforsaken underground city for Spitkovsky to stage his operations. She would know how to get to the operations centers and fallout shelters, the bunkers built under the US Capitol for congressmen during times when their biggest fears had been a Soviet nuclear apocalypse.

Meredith didn’t hesitate. Her silhouette blinked in and out of existence as she darted under the sporadic lights. They must all be feeling what Dom felt now. The intense energy, the anger pulling them onward.

These were the feelings O’Neil had warned them about. They had been strong when they’d come face-to-face with all those Skulls and Slingers. But this was different. Something powerful and sophisticated. It was like comparing a primitive man’s cave drawings to a Rembrandt. Whatever pheromones the FGL Hybrids were putting out there, they called to Dom like a siren, luring him.

And then he heard it. Swore he could hear a voice.

“Come to me,” they seemed to be saying. “Face me.”

He wondered if the others heard it. If the power of the Heikegani Agent was driving them as mad as it was him. But he could not let those thoughts get in his way. Not when he was so close to taking down Spitkovsky. To saving his daughters.

Meredith reached the end of another tunnel. A pair of solid steel doors blocked their path. With her single good ear pressed against the door, she narrowed her eyes as if in concentration. She looked back at him, giving him a nod.

He signaled to Miguel and Andris. Meredith backed away from the door.

Dom tapped on his smartwatch, a final message to Shepherd and their allies: If we do not make it and you survive the attack, destroy the US Capitol.

That was it. He couldn’t let Spitkovsky escape even if it cost him his life. And by sending that message, he had doomed everyone in the Capitol building. That meant there was no way he could fail tonight. Because if he did, and if Kara and Sadie were in fact in the FGL’s custody here...

Dom couldn’t even finish that thought.

He was not ready to make that deal—even if it meant saving the world from Spitkovsky. Which meant now he had no choice but to succeed.

Meredith had a flashbang ready. Andris and Miguel set the charges. Another hand signal from Dom, and Andris detonated them.

A loud boom shot through the corridor.

Dust billowed.

And then it began.

***

Meredith let the flashbang fly. She swiveled behind the cover of the tunnel corridor, shielding herself. A sizzling pop exploded in the room beyond, and even through her closed eyes, she saw the obliterating flash of white light.

Miguel pushed through the haze first, followed by Andris. Meredith surged through next.

The doorway took them to a wide room that looked like an auditorium. A bank of computer monitors covered one wall. Chairs covered in faded green fabric faced a stage that reminded Meredith of the Senate chamber. Several doorways led to offshoot rooms labeled with Emergency Operations Center and Secondary Emergency Operations Center, among other signs.

Wires crossed the floors, hooked up to computer stations on rows of tables. At those stations sat FGL soldiers, most pressing their palms against their ears and eyes, trying to recover from the disorienting flash grenade. Around them were scattered Hybrid forces. Some were bent over, recovering like the FGL humans.

But others were quicker to react. They scoped the room with rifles already shouldered.

It was from them the gunfire erupted first.

“Contacts on far wall,” Meredith reported, squeezing the trigger herself.

She sighted the bastards up, one by one. They were quick; she was quicker.

Andris knelt beside her, plugging away. Miguel, too, had already targeted his first group of Hybrids.

Dom and O’Neil emerged out of the smoke. Rachel and Rory came next, with Jenna covering Glenn’s entrance.

Gunfire lanced in all directions. Monitors fell from the wall. PCs sparked from the tables where the human officers were now ducking for cover.

A burning rage pounded at the back of Meredith’s skull. She advanced with Andris toward the chairs, finding better shelter there than the open killing floor.

The rest of the Hunters slid into their own pockets of cover. They sliced through the FGL forces like a scythe through wheat.

They had played this right. Coming in quiet and fast, straight into the FGL’s heart, straight where Spitkovsky should be. The Russians hadn’t been ready. Probably too focused on the tidal wave of slaughter they were unleashing on the rest of the United States.

From her periphery, Meredith saw Dom kneeling, rifle shuddering against his shoulder. His jaw set in grim determination.

Another scattered group of Hybrids went down. Yells of agony flared between the bursts of fire. FGL officers caught in the fray lay still, bleeding beneath the rows of computers. Hybrids crumpled around them.

But to Meredith’s horror, the more Hybrids that died, the more anger she felt. A volcano pulsed in her mind. It spewed hot lava across every rational thought.

Something called to her, telling her to jump from her position. Drop her rifle and run straight at the enemy. Slash their throats with the claws she didn’t yet have. Sink her fangs into them.

God, did she have fangs now, or was this just the Heikegani Agent speaking?

Every nerve in her body sparked with an electricity more powerful than anything she had ever felt in her life. Her mind told her she was invincible. A god. Nothing could destroy her.

She was looking over the abyss, knowing that if she jumped, it didn’t matter if she made it to the other side. She would live. She could not be stopped.

Andris grimaced next to her, nearly curling into a ball. A pallor had crawled across his flesh.

Two Hybrids had noticed. They started advancing, working across the room to flank them.

“Andris!” Meredith called.

He looked at her, eyes pulsing, red vessels bulging. “It’s so strong.”

He set his rifle down, his arms shaking. Fingers splayed out on the floor, he looked like a sprinter ready for a race.

“Don’t, Andris,” Meredith said. She fired at the advancing Hybrids. One went down. The other disappeared beyond the seats. “Come on, man. Get a hold of yourself.”

“I... can’t...”

She felt the same beast in her head. The monster was more fearsome than any Chimera or Goliath she had ever faced. This one wanted to control her. To override everything that had been instilled in her through a lifetime of covert service operations and strict training.

Meredith didn’t think of herself as sentimental. She had never been attached to anything she owned. Her money, home, belongings—all of it could be swept away in a snap of the finger. And it had. But she had always thought the only things that could never be taken from her were her education, her experiences, her mind.

Her mind had been a sacred place, a temple only she had access to.

How wrong she’d been.

Andris started to push himself up, his teeth bared. His chest heaved with desperate breaths.

“Don’t do it!” she yelled, desperate to save her friend from himself.

The second advancing Hybrid lunged, propelling himself over the seats toward them. Claws sliced through the air, each long and sharp enough to sever a man’s limbs. Meredith swiveled to fire on him. But before she could, Andris pounced.

The two met in midair. A clash of monsters drowned in the unbridled anger of the Heikegani Agent. They slammed into the chairs, collapsing into each other, limbs flying.

“Andris!” Meredith yelled.

She couldn’t get a clear shot on the attacking Hybrid. The rest of the Hunters seemed to be faring no better. Miguel fired, then recoiled as if an invisible force had slammed into him. Jenna had grown a sickly white like Andris. But at least she still kept her rifle shouldered, picking off FGL forces. Rachel and Rory, unaffected by the Heikegani Agent, continued their efforts to cover the struggling Hunters. At least O’Neil and Dom seemed to have control of themselves.

Pacifist Fog could help save the Hunters from the Agent. But the Fog’s effects weren’t immediate. Even if they took only thirty seconds to fully settle in, that wouldn’t be enough. And the reduced visibility in here could be suicidal. Shooting at Hybrids across the room was a hell of a lot easier than coming at them face-to-face in obscured visibility, struggling against ripping claws and talons.

Glenn yelled in agony as if he’d been shot. But Meredith saw no blood. At least not from any gunshot wound. Something dark was trickling out of his ears and nostrils, reminding Meredith of when O’Neil had first been learning to use his biochemical signaling abilities.

Then something clicked in Meredith’s head. Of course the Hybrids in this room were doing their damnedest to sabotage the Hunters’ efforts. And they’d had a hell of a lot more practice than the newly infected crew. The FGL soldiers wielded the power of the Heikegani Agent with the skill of a master swordsman.

Andris was still struggling with the Hybrid. Blood covered both of them. The Hybrids who had survived the initial onslaught had since recovered from their disorientation. They were moving in on the Hunters, taking advantage of the confusion roiling in Meredith’s allies’ minds.

She focused on that beach again. That sense of calm when she pictured herself there. Her Zen-like focus expanded. She imagined it enveloping the others, inviting them to join her. Something wet trickled out of her nose. Her ear canals, too. She ignored it.

Pain pulsed in her head. But it wasn’t from the Hybrids. It was from her brain overworking itself, turning hot. An engine being pushed to its limits.

She didn’t stop, forcing that calmness to radiate out of her.

Come on, she thought. Come on. Let go of the chains, the anger. Don’t let the Hybrids do this to you.

Andris rolled the Hybrid onto his back then struck out with a blade. He looked up at Meredith, panting. But the color had returned to his face. He picked up his rifle, sighting up his next target.

The others, too, seemed to have regained some control over themselves. O’Neil gave her a knowing nod. So she hadn’t done this alone. He’d helped—and together, they could make a difference.

But just when Meredith thought that victory was in their hands, the calming vision disappeared from her mind. The world dissipated around her, leaving her alone in a black emptiness.

Sure, she was still physically in the room. She could still hear the chatter of gunfire. Feel the rifle in her hands buck with each shot. She could still taste the cordite and smoke in the air.

But her thoughts had vanished.

Every thought except for one.

Chimera.

-31-

The Chimeras swarmed toward Fort Detrick. An unending wave of Skulls roiled at their feet, surging over the landscape in a tide of bodies corrupted by biological horrors. Red columns of Pacifist Fog smoke rose amid their ranks like the very fires of hell.

Colonel Shepherd watched the monitors with Vasquez beside him. The sound of the battle was muffled by the walls of the CIC. But even so, every boom, every chorus of gunfire chiseled into his core.

Was he watching the last stand of Fort Detrick?

The FGL forces were poised to flood the base. It wasn’t just the loss of Shepherd’s people. The fall of Detrick would leave the United States with little hope of overcoming the thrall of Oni and Heikegani Agent vectors choking the country.

With Frankfurt destroyed, Fort Detrick was the main center of medical research in the war against the FGL. Their allies would be set back years, maybe decades if Shepherd failed his duties tonight.

“Take out those Chimeras,” Shepherd said.

“I’ve got all eyes on them,” Saito said.

“Pacifist Fog?” he asked.

“Depleted,” Vasquez reported.

Then Saito turned to Shepherd. “We’ve got air support making their round again. Another AC-130U is reporting in.”

Shepherd felt a surge of relief. The dread didn’t quite go away though. Not yet.

The Chimeras flung more claws. The organic missiles slammed into the base. Men were shredded by the weapons, their blood smeared across the walls. Shepherd winced at the sight.

“Commencing fire,” Saito said.

Thunder from the gods rolled across Detrick. A hail of fire blazed into the FGL forces from above. Skull and Hybrid bodies weren’t so much torn apart as disintegrated. Entire masses of the creatures disappeared in the explosions. When the Chimeras were hit, their acid-filled bellies exploded, spewing onto the FGL ranks around them.

“Air support out of range,” Saito reported.

The remaining FGL forces flowed back into the woods and the rubble of Frederick. The fields between what was left of Frederick and Fort Detrick were filled with craters and trampled grass, scattered corpses, and blood-stained dirt. Somewhere in there were all the civilian Hybrids who had been recruited or forced to fight for the FGL.

Shepherd said a short prayer for them, asking for forgiveness. They shouldn’t have had to die like that.

He prayed, too, that the Hybrids within the base hadn’t been affected by whatever chemical signals the FGL had been using to control their forces.

“Do we have a report from our civilians?” Shepherd asked.

“Yes, sir,” Vasquez said. “No casualties being reported.”

“And the Hybrids in our care?”

Vasquez’s expression twisted. “There was a bit of a riot, but...”

“A bit of a riot?” another officer asked. “I’m hearing reports of Hybrids injured trying to escape the shelters. A few other civilians were hurt too.”

“Christ,” Shepherd said. At least the worst was over. “Reposition units along the perimeter walls. Make sure all ammunition stocks are refilled.”

He studied the monitors. Everything looked clear, but he knew the FGL would still be lurking nearby, regrouping.

Sure enough, a howl erupted over the base, carried in by the speakers. More howls joined it. All across the monitors, Skulls appeared from their hiding spots, amassing once again.

“They don’t stop,” an officer said. “Good God. Why won’t they stop?”

This time it wasn’t just the North Gate they were attacking. It was every side of Detrick. A cacophony of voices erupted around the CIC, filling the air with reports of contacts spotted and calls for reinforcements.

But there were no more reinforcements.

Shepherd’s people were already spread thin. Civilian volunteers were joining professional soldiers, and still Shepherd feared it wouldn’t be enough. Even with the two planes circling overhead, making their passes again, it was never enough. How long could they hold up against the relentless assault?

“Sir,” Vasquez said, nearly in a whisper, “there’s always the Tenth Plague.”

The dread in Shepherd’s gut returned, overwhelming him. The Tenth Plague. The biological weapon would eat through the enemy’s forces, laying waste to the FGL’s monstrous troops. But it worked slowly. In tests, Skulls had lasted anywhere from minutes up to a day, depending on how they reacted to the weapon.

Still, it was an assured method of eradicating massive hordes of Skulls. So assured that if they launched it, it wouldn’t just be the enemy’s forces that would succumb to the airborne agent.

“That would mean sacrificing every Hybrid in Detrick, too,” Shepherd said. “All the civilians that came to us for protection.”

Vasquez looked away.

“What about everyone else?” Saito asked. “The needs of the many, right?”

“I hate to bring up Pearson, but the guy had a point,” Vasquez said. “The Hybrids are more dangerous than ever now. If the FGL had all those civilians working for them, what’s to say they couldn’t control the Hybrids already on base?”

“No,” Shepherd said. “We can’t kill our own.”

“It’s about so much more than that now, sir,” Vasquez whispered. “We’ve got the whole country depending on us. The whole world.”

The roars of the FGL forces rose, rolling over Detrick with a force that trembled through Shepherd’s bones.

Use the Tenth Plague and sacrifice the people in here or try to stand up to the incoming forces without it? How many would die if he used the Tenth Plague?

How many would die if he didn’t?

***

The world distorted through the darkness enveloping Dom’s mind. Every emotion—calm, anger, everything in between—disappeared into that black hole.

Only a few Hybrids remained in this room. There were more FGL human officers around, but they were mostly harmless, cowering and sniveling. Few of them held weapons, and those that had picked up the guns from their fallen comrades had shown they didn’t have the same discipline or abilities as their Hybrid cohort.

It should be easy to take them out.

A quake rattled through the bunker. The last Hybrids fell back. Dom pushed forward.

Through the blackness, a single pinprick of light shone in his mind. It spoke to him.

Face me. Face me. Face me.

The rest of the Hunters moved through the bunker, maintaining combat intervals, executing the Hybrids still clinging to life.

At the rear of the bunker, two heavy steel doors retracted. The entryway was damn near large enough to drive a truck through. And the truck equivalent of a Skull came through.

A Chimera. Skulls escorted it. Sniveling and growling, they came in, hunched over, gray flesh pulsating beneath their skeletal plates. Most wore the remnants of civilian clothes; some wore the fatigues of US soldiers and marines, and still others were naked.

All moved as one unit like a hive of insects.

Dom signaled to open fire on the beast. A wave of bullets roared from the rest of the Hunters. Rounds broke through bony armor. Flesh and blood splattered from new wounds. Bodies crumpled to the floor.

Still the Skulls advanced at a controlled march, surrounding the crouched Chimera.

“This is control!” a voice boomed around the room, carried by the speakers built into the walls. The words seemed to resonate in Dom’s mind as if they had been his own thoughts. “This is power!”

More Skulls went down, and others flooded in to replace them. Each a mindless automaton intent on its own destruction.

Beneath the blackness that had swallowed Dom’s mind, a single sensation managed to creep in. An icy fear.

The Skulls flowed around the auditorium even as the Hunters worked to destroy them. Hybrids joined their ranks, seeking shelter behind the Skulls that served as their meat shields.

Bodies piled up around the room, and still the Skulls came. The Hunters were forced to circle up, drawing ever closer, losing the ground that they had held.

“Captain Holland, put down your weapon,” the voice said, once again resonating through the room and in Dom’s head.

Somehow, the voice had boomed from behind the Chimera. And there was no mistaking who it belonged to. The man who had slipped between his fingers in the Congo. The man who had brought the world to its knees.

The man who had taken his daughters.

Pyotr Spitkovsky stepped up beside the Chimera. Small in comparison to the beast but somehow still towering above the Skulls surrounding him.

Red eyes glowered beneath a mask of bone. Fangs like daggers jutted up from his gums. He wore no shirt. His ribcage flowed from under his flesh, curling around his body. Bones grew from his shoulder blades. They curved up from behind his back and over his shoulders as if he had manicured them to grow that way. Claws punched out of his fingertips. His flesh wasn’t the sickly gray of the Skulls or even many of the Hybrids. Instead it appeared a healthier peach hue.

There was no grimace in his expression or halting movement to betray the joint pain that Dom felt now with the Heikegani Agent pulsing through his body. Where his father had been a wreck of a human being, a man determined to push forward through twisted biological experiments on his own body, Pyotr Spitkovsky had taken measured steps.

Hell, Spitkovsky had experimented on the whole of the human race before perfecting the process. Only then, it seemed, had he chosen to infect himself.

Dom raised his rifle, aiming at Spitkovsky. The man didn’t so much as flinch. All around the room, Dom could hear the tap of the Skulls’ talons on the floor. He thought he could make out the clink of the Hybrids’ weapons being brought to bear, too.

One squeeze of his trigger was all it would take. One squeeze. The smallest possible movement. No matter what else happened, Spitkovsky would be dead. Shooting the man might mean the entire horde of Skulls would turn on them, a crush of bony limbs and slicing claws rending flesh.

But Spitkovsky would be dead.

Dom let out a breath and fired.

-32-

Meredith tried to keep Spitkovsky in her optics. But the Skulls moved around him like a viscous liquid.

The crack of gunfire exploded above the moans and cries of the monsters. Dom’s rifle bucked slightly.

He’d had a perfect shot. No way he could have missed.

But the rounds Dom had fired never made it to the man.

Skulls swelled up before the bastard. A wall of flesh and bone. Mindlessly they jumped and climbed over each other, providing a barricade between Dom and Spitkovsky. Every time Dom squeezed the trigger, the Skulls were there first.

Good Lord, Meredith thought. It’s like Spitkovsky controls time itself.

“Andris,” she whispered. “We need to do something. Help Dom.”

She was pressed back to back with the other Hunters. Skulls circled them, squeezing them into a tight-knit group, forcing them away from Dom. It didn’t matter that they cut the Skulls down with bullets or blades. The beasts carried on, trampling their dead brethren. Always circling. A school of sharks surrounding divers stranded in the ocean miles from shore.

“I hear you,” Andris said. He shoved aside a Skull then stuck his blade in another. Neither so much as looked at him. “It is hard to make room for a shot. These Skulls are very persistent.”

“Focus,” O’Neil hissed beside them.

Blood dribbled out of the Hybrid’s nostrils. He was trying desperately to maintain the calmness he and Meredith had spread through the others. She knew because that was what she was trying to do as well.

Her fingers had gone bone white. Her ears and nostrils tickled with the blood running in rivulets out of them. The taste of blood coated her tongue, too, but she ignored that.

The image of that beach and those crystalline waters stood against the darkness in her mind. She felt like a lone star in the night sky. So inconsequential, surrounded by a bleak abyss. The strength of the Chimera and Spitkovsky almost too much for her to bear.

But she refused to give in.

“On my mark,” Meredith whispered.

The rest of the Hunters lifted their rifles subtly. Jenna knocked away a Skull that had gotten too close, and Rory kicked another’s feet out from under it. The Skull fell to the ground, quickly disappearing under the stomping feet of the others.

“Open fire,” Meredith said.

The crack of their weapons exploded through the thrum of the Skulls. Bullets lanced in a fusillade of hot metal. Their aim had to have been true.

But Meredith could tell they had failed as soon as she’d squeezed the trigger.

Skulls careened in front of them. They took the bullets meant for Spitkovsky, swallowing them with their flesh and armor and the soft organs beneath. Skin puckered and spewed blood. The unlucky creatures collapsed.

The march continued.

Spitkovsky laughed. “I control them as much as I control my own body.” His voice echoed through the chamber. Echoed through Meredith’s mind. She winced at the sound.

“You may have killed my father,” Spitkovsky said. “But I am better than him. Stronger.”

Her body coiled into itself, every muscle seeming to contract at once. A deep pain threaded through her muscles and screamed through her nerves, raking her flesh. It seemed to call to the Heikegani Agent nesting inside her. Commanding it forth through cells and tissues, pushing bony structures beneath those dense layers of protein-laden fibers.

Glenn let out a cry of agony, and Jenna shrieked alongside him. Andris collapsed against Meredith, and Miguel’s eyes bulged, his face ghost white. Jenna was shivering, barely able to hold onto her rifle.

“Give up your weapons,” Spitkovsky said.

Meredith curled her fingers tighter around her rifle. It was the heaviest thing she had ever lifted in her life—

—and yet, she managed to raise it toward him, straining against her own muscles and the blackness seeping through her mind.

Spitkovsky had to die.

She clenched her jaw. Dom was cut off completely from the rest of the Hunters, standing among his own circling band of Skulls. His eyes seemed to search for hers.

Spitkovsky did not snap his fingers. He didn’t even look her direction. But Meredith felt the biochemical wave in the air. A pressing force that slammed into her like the blast from a grenade.

The Skulls lunged forward while she was still reeling. A thousand claws struck at once. Blood sprayed from every direction. Scratches tore into her face. Her side. Her legs. Somewhere in the reddening agony, her weapon was torn from her hands.

She fought back as best she could. But there were too many.

***

Dom watched the Hunters disappear under a wave of Skulls. Screams tore into the air. He lost sight of Meredith in the fray, her red hair disappearing beneath the roiling sea of Skulls.

He fired again at Spitkovsky. The Skulls took every bullet.

A click.

The rifle’s bolt locked back.

He ejected the magazine. It slammed against the floor. Fumbled for another.

Before he could reload, the Skulls pressed into him with the same fury that they had used to overwhelm the others. Dom felt the claws and talons pierce his flesh. He saw the red flash of blood as it spilled over his chest, his hands. Nerves pulsing, sending their signals for his brain to interpret. Trying to tell him he was dying. Telling him to do something.

And yet he was frozen. His feet adhered to the floor as if they had melted there.

“Mere!” Dom tried to yell.

The word bubbled in his throat.

“Meredith!” he tried again. This time a muffled gasp escaped. Fingers scratching against sandpaper.

Claws slashed across his flesh. He bled from countless wounds. But none of them brought him down. No cut was in and of itself fatal.

This was Spitkovsky’s control. His power over his minions.

Instead, Dom would die under the oppressive weight of their masses.

“No!” This time, the word came out. His mind flashed with a scalding white light as if the single syllable was a magic spell to counter Spitkovsky’s power.

He took a step forward, shoved a Skull backward, smearing his own blood over the creature’s exposed chest plates.

“No!” he said again. Louder. “You cannot control me!”

His eyes searched for a glint of metal. His rifle had to be close by.

Spitkovsky laughed. The sound was nearly suffocating, ringing around in Dom’s mind.

“I control everything,” Spitkovsky said.

Dom saw the rifle. Under the foot of a Skull. He charged. Knocked the beast over. More claws swiped him. Heat seared through his flesh. Adrenaline dulled the pain but did not extinguish it.

He scooped up the rifle and felt for a magazine on his tac vest. His fingers searched the pockets.

But they were empty. Nothing.

He looked down.

All gone.

He had used them all. Or maybe they had been lost in the fray.

Dimly, he heard the cries of Miguel. Then Andris. Meredith, too. They were still alive. Only because Spitkovsky had let them live.

Dom had to stop this. The only way was to break the beasts free from Spitkovsky’s grip. His fingers grabbed a Pacifist Fog grenade. He pulled the pin and dropped it at his feet.

***

Shepherd could hardly bear to watch the monitors. He felt all the eyes of the men and women in the room on him. Even with the air support, the Skulls continued toward Fort Detrick, crashing against each other, crashing against the walls of the base. They were an unstoppable force. And Detrick was no immovable object. It was only a cardboard box standing against an avalanche.

The beasts began to scale the walls. Some fell to the bullets chewing into their bodies. Their corpses piled up. Each creature following in the path of its dead comrades climbed a little higher. Literally and figuratively rising on the progress of those who had died before them.

This was the end of Detrick. This was the end of everything.

Except...

He still had the Tenth Plague. The weapon of mass destruction that would kill every Oni Agent-riddled monster. Wherever the winds blew, the Plague would go, too, devouring the creatures just as they devoured meat. It was the final curse that Shepherd could unleash upon his part of the world. This small patch of land where humanity had staked its claim.

And in releasing the Plague, he doomed Lisa Caldwell. He doomed the men and women and children like her who had come to the base for protection.

The Tenth Plague was not something that eventually dispersed like the Pacifist Fog. It would find its way into the water around Detrick. It would reside in the plants, in the food grown around base. It would soak into the buildings, chemical residue waiting to be inhaled or ingested. It would wait to lay waste to all those Oni- and Heikegani Agent-addled victims that dared to invade its territory.

“Sir?” Vasquez asked. “We don’t have long.”

The Tenth Plague was supposedly harmless to normal humans. But what if it wasn’t? What if it turned their flesh to jelly just like it did the infected bones it was supposed to target? The clinical trials promised by Frankfurt’s scientific teams had never been completed. They’d barely started, in fact, when the FGL destroyed the pharmaceutical facilities there.

With a single sentence, he could condemn all the Hybrids who had come into his protection to a torturous death. Every civilian Hybrid still out there in the area would be doomed too. And he might kill all the healthy humans as well. Every single one of them, including himself.

And yet, did he have any other choice?

Shepherd looked at the officers around him. Every single one of them would follow his lead. This was his responsibility, his burden to bear.

He closed his eyes briefly and then said, “Prepare for Tenth Plague deployment.”

-33-

Meredith watched the red gas hiss from the canister. She lay on the ground, curled into a ball. She could no longer hold the picture of a beach in her thoughts. No longer keep Spitkovsky’s darkness from bleeding into her mind. She no longer felt like a star burning bright in the dark. Now she was a speck of dust floating in the middle of space. Stuck in a frozen infinite. A wasteland where no life survived.

Andris was on the floor beside her. One of his shoulders had been shredded. He grimaced in pain, clutching at the mass of blood and flesh there. His lips trembled. Glenn had never looked so small, smashed under the weight of the Skulls milling around him, drawing blood with lazy swipes of their claws.

Rachel and Rory had been pushed down as well. Mentally, they might be free. Physically, it didn’t matter.

All Meredith could do was hope that the Pacifist Fog made a difference. She reached for another grenade. Shadows swallowed the edges of her vision. It was all she could do to cling to consciousness.

“Pacifist Fog,” she whispered weakly to Andris.

He grunted, still holding a hand to his damaged shoulder. His finger shook as he reached for his grenade. Meredith clung to the cold bite of metal and pulled the grenade from its pocket. One finger found the ring, and she pulled it, letting it roll on the floor.

More clinks echoed around her. Other grenades letting out the Pacifist Fog. Other spouts of red mist consuming the air.

The sheer concentration of Pacifist Fog stung her eyes. She felt a wave of peace flow through her. Something unshackled in her brain. The darkness subsided. Soon, she knew, the Skulls would calm. They would be frozen in place.

And Spitkovsky would be unable to do anything to move them.

For those precious few seconds when the Skulls were frozen by the Pacifist Fog, the Hunters would have their opportunity.

But the Skulls refused to obey. The Fog dissipated almost as immediately as it had spewed from the grenades. The mechanical roar of industrial fans filled the room. They vacuumed up the Pacifist Fog.

With only a faint pinkish hue left in the air, Meredith felt the weight of the Chimera and Spitkovsky fall over her mind again.

Between the Skulls’ bodies, she saw a glimpse of Dom. Saw him walk in stuttering steps toward Spitkovsky.

A Skull slammed into her, claws scraping. She fell backward, blinking, tears filling her eyes. The last thing she saw was the grim expression on her lover’s blood-streaked face.

***

Dom pushed forward against the press of Skulls. He sent his fist into their faces, his elbow into jaws.

The Pacifist Fog would not stop the monsters. Spitkovsky had been prepared. He knew what he was up against.

Just as Dom knew what he was up against.

He threw one Skull against another. Blood splashed over him. His own. A Skull’s. He wasn’t sure. The world seemed to fade around him. He had eyes for only Spitkovsky. The beast of a man stood across from him. In his mind he saw his fingers wrapping around Spitkovsky’s neck. Saw the life ebbing out of the man.

A Skull’s claws slashed at Dom’s face. He caught the beast’s wrist in his hand. His muscles quaked. Not just from the physical effort, but from the mental energy he exerted as well. He saw a look of uncertainty in Spitkovsky’s eyes. A flash of fear, maybe.

Spitkovsky was no longer smiling.

The Skull’s wrist cracked in Dom’s grip. He summoned the strength of the Heikegani Agent. Dom, too, could use it as a weapon. With a ferocious effort, he shoved the beast’s claws into its neighbor. Then he slammed another creature into a Skull lunging for him. Over and over, he turned the beasts against each other, kicking, punching, stabbing with their own claws, whirling through them, pushing toward Spitkovsky.

But the master Hybrid no longer looked so wary. Confidence had returned to his stature. He stood with his arms flexed, ready to engage in hand-to-hand combat himself.

Finally, the time had come for them to see, once and for all, who would be victorious.

Dom shoved one of the Skulls toward Spitkovsky, an opening salvo in their fight. The man caught it and threw the hapless beast into its brethren.

But instead of engaging directly with Dom, Spitkovsky turned to one of his Hybrid lackeys.

“Bring out the girls,” Spitkovsky ordered.

Dom heard the words. In the back of his mind, he had even been expecting it. The mad Russian had tried to control him through every possible avenue—from brute force to biochemical manipulation. Spitkovsky only had one card left to play.

And there, the sea of Skulls parted. A pair of Hybrids dragged two pitifully small figures between them.

His daughters. He had fought so hard to protect them, and in the end, he had failed. Dom had delivered them straight to the terrifying Russian.

“No,” Dom said, his momentum lost.

“You listen now,” Spitkovsky said, “or the girls die.”

All the will Dom had left drained from his body. He froze, ready to let himself be devoured by Skulls if it meant his girls lived. But he didn’t see any way out of this situation.

He had failed them. And now he would die.

And so would they.

“You fight for me,” Spitkovsky said, sneering into Dom’s face. “You do as I say, and I will keep them alive. But one mistake, one hint of rebellion, and they are dead. Any Hunter still alive will die too. You have very little left in this world, Captain Holland. Do not make me take the rest of it from you.”

***

Kara squirmed in the Hybrid’s grip. The Russian’s claws dug sharply into her shoulder, and she felt a gush of hot blood trickle down her back.

“Kara,” Sadie cried. “Please, I want to go home. Oh God.”

The jagged claw of a Hybrid pressed against Kara’s throat before she could speak. She was all too familiar with its amber sheen, the way it seemed to slide between the cells of her skin, driving itself right into her blood vessels. All it would take was for that claw to dig a couple centimeters further. Her jugular would split. Blood would pour over her chest, and she would be gone from this world.

And she would not go alone. Sadie, too, would be there beside her.

Tears streamed from Kara’s eyes. She tried desperately to blink them away, but they would not stop.

“Dad!” Sadie cried, her voice piercing. “Daddy, please save us!”

“Sadie, Kara!” their father cried back.

Kara wanted to sink to her knees. Her fists balled up.

Her dad seemed to deflate, all the life pouring out of him, seeping into the floor. This wasn’t right.

Kara knew what was going through his head. Fight off Spitkovsky or bow down to him. Obey him to save their lives.

“Dad, you have to stop him!” Kara said, risking the claw at her jugular. “Please!”

“Let them go!” Dom said, turning to Spitkovsky. “They have nothing to do with this. This is between you and me. They’re just children, for God’s sake.”

“They’re not just any children,” Spitkovsky said. “They’re your children.”

Kara saw her father glance between Spitkovsky and then her and Sadie. She knew that look in his eyes. He was stalling. Calculating. Searching for a scenario in which he could save them and stop Spitkovsky.

But there wasn’t any way to do both. Kara could see that even if her father was too blinded by love for them to realize the agonizing truth. If he bowed to Spitkovsky, everything would be lost. The Hybrids would still kill them all, eventually. Once they’d outlived their usefulness. Once Spitkovsky and the FGL ruled the whole world.

That’s what it came down to. Save them or save the world.

“You have to stop him!” Kara said.

“Listen to the girl,” Spitkovsky said, clearly not understanding what she meant. Kara wasn’t begging for her life, for the Hybrid to stop hurting her. She was telling her father to stop Spitkovsky. “All you have to do is turn around and leave. I will send you back to whatever is left of Fort Detrick and any other military base that survives tonight. You will be my elite squad. Better than the Hybrids who served before you. I think that even if Detrick falls, Colonel Shepherd might yet live. You will start by killing him. Then on to General Kinsey. One by one, you will destroy what is left of the people who have dared to defy me.”

“I can’t do that,” Dom said.

“You can,” Spitkovsky said. “I know that you can, and I know that you will. Or you will die trying. That’s an acceptable outcome. Either way, that is the only scenario in which I let your daughters live.”

Dom glanced in Kara’s direction. She saw the pain there. His lips trembled. Blood, mixed with sweat, covered his face.

So this is what defeat looks like, Kara thought.

She saw no hope. Even if her dad did as he was asked, eventually he would fail. Or Spitkovsky would grow tired of him. Kara and Sadie would be killed. Tortured first.

She couldn’t stand it anymore. She had had enough.

Even if she lived, she and her sister would be prisoners of the FGL. Starved and beaten. Never a moment’s peace. Always wondering if each day would be their last. That was the life she had to look forward to.

That wouldn’t be saving them, not really. But her dad would keep them alive as long as possible. He would die trying to save them. Trying to free them.

But at what cost?

She caught her dad’s eyes again. She knew what he was going to decide. He was going to choose her and Sadie. She felt like an anchor tied to her father’s feet, dragging him down.

She didn’t want to be that anchor anymore.

She knew what she had to do.

“I love you, Dad!” she cried and then pushed herself against the Hybrid’s claw.

***

Meredith felt the wave of chemical influence explode in the air around her. Something had changed. She saw O’Neil trembling, his eyes closed. Blood streamed from his ears and the corners of his mouth. His lips were pulled taut as if a string yanked them back toward his ears.

And she realized what he was doing.

Meredith had heard Kara’s voice cry out above the Skulls around her. Then she heard Dom bellow in anguish. Something had happened—something terrible.

It was now or never.

She felt the Heikegani Agent within her. The power of it not just in her body but her mind. O’Neil was no longer the only one on the team with this strength just waiting to be tapped.

“Andris, Jenna,” Meredith said. “Glenn, Miguel. Stop them!”

She focused on the ocean, the soft sand and warm sun. That deep well of calm. She felt the thoughts exploding within her. A chain reaction. In the periphery of her mind, the others were coming alive too. Fighting past their own agony. Drawing on their focus and shoving it outward.

What Hybrids could do was more powerful than the simple instructions encoded in the Pacifist Fog. And, for better or worse, the Hunters were Hybrids now.

The blackness in her mind started to abate. She pictured it shrinking, pictured herself smashing it between her palms. She saw the brightness of a Caribbean sun high overhead. Light glinting off the whitecaps cresting the azure waves. Dom, Kara, and Sadie next to her on those warm, white sands. Maggie wagging her tail as she chased a seagull. Her family, whole and happy. Safe.

That was the focus Meredith needed, the sanctuary from the oppressive mood the Chimera and Spitkovsky were pushing onto her.

She felt that focus build to a crescendo. The climax of an epic orchestral piece, reaching full volume. Order emerging from the chaos. Every musician in sync.

The Hunters started to stand, pushing back against the Skulls. Not just physically but mentally as well.

Then she felt a pop in her mind. Meredith practically felt the biochemical trail explode from her. A curtain of invisible power coursed through the room.

***

“No!” Dom cried, watching Kara struggle against the Hybrid. Blood covered the beast’s claws. Her blood.

He looked between her and Spitkovsky. He could either save his girls or try to save the world.

All his life, he had made sacrifices for the greater good. His life had been spent at sea instead of at home. He had lost so many brothers- and sisters-in-arms in the battle to stop the Oni Agent. He’d lost his beautiful ship.

And now, it seemed, he would lose his daughters. He would rather give Spitkovsky his own life instead, but that wasn’t an option. Dom found himself frozen with the impossible task of making a decision.

Kara knew that. She seemed determined to take that decision away from him, sacrificing herself so he would have no other choice but to stop Spitkovsky.

Instead, Dom would have to watch his baby girl bleed out. He wanted to scream. To tear Spitkovsky apart, limb from limb.

But the Hybrid holding onto her suddenly crumpled as if it had been stabbed by an invisible blade. Then Dom noticed it wasn’t just the Hybrid holding Kara hostage. All the other Skulls and Hybrids seemed to have been knocked backward by a tremendous force. They shrank into themselves, recoiling as if they were being beaten.

Dom felt his own mind lift. The shackles the Chimera had placed on it broke. He noticed the huge creature had backed into a few of the Hybrids. It had its claws clamped over its ears.

And Spitkovsky was exposed.

Dom looked between the Russian and his girls. Kara lay on the floor, blood covering her chest. Sadie stood beside her, frozen in fear.

There would never be a better chance to kill the architect of the FGL.

And there would never be another chance to save his daughters.

He knew exactly what he had to do.

-34-

Dom ran to Kara.

He pressed his hands over her flesh where the Hybrid had cut her. Blood sluiced up between his fingers. He tried to clean it away to see where she had been cut. A deep gash glistened red. To his relief, it wasn’t her neck but her shoulder. The Hybrid near her seemed broken, beaten, but he was blinking now, looking at Dom as if he might attack.

Dom fired straight into the Hybrid’s face.

His ears rang, but he managed to pull Sadie down next to her sister then guided the girl to place her hands over Kara’s wound. From the circle of Skulls in the center of the room, Dom saw Rachel and Rory shooting their way out, advancing toward him. The duo hadn’t been exposed to the Heikegani Agent and never had to recover from the Chimera-induced stupor the others had to deal with.

“Protect them!” Dom said, gesturing to his daughters.

Bloodied and battered themselves, Rachel and Rory opened fire, clearing a path around Sadie and Kara. Dom wanted desperately to stay by Kara’s side. Fight his way through the FGL down here and take her somewhere safe.

But so long as Spitkovsky was still alive, there was nowhere safe.

A Hybrid started to recover and swung a claw out at him. He raised his rifle and fired squarely into the Hybrid’s chest, knocking him backward. A few Skulls lurched around Spitkovsky, and Dom shot them too.

The Chimera towering over Spitkovsky was pressing its claws so tightly against its head, it had actually drawn blood. Thick, nearly black ribbons of blood streamed from the side of its face, coursing over its armored chest.

“Hunters, take down that Chimera!” Dom bellowed over the comms. He didn’t look back to see if they were acting on his command, but O’Neil and Meredith both gave him affirmatives.

The bark of gunfire sounded. Rounds punched into the Chimera. The beast recoiled from the hail of bullets.

Dom shoved aside another pair of stumbling Skulls.

Spitkovsky stood before him. The man-turned-Hybrid who had brought on the apocalypse had no more minions to hide behind.

“You’re mine!” Dom said. His voice echoed in his own head. He raised his rifle, but he was a fraction too slow.

Spitkovsky lifted a hand, aiming his sidearm squarely at Dom. “Goodbye, Holland.”

The gunshot exploded through the moans of the Skulls. A sharp stab of pain slammed into Dom. He fell to the floor. Another shot punched into him. Then another. He couldn’t feel his lower right leg. His left shoulder went numb, and he could no longer hold his rifle. The weapon fell slack onto its strap.

Dom felt Spitkovsky looming over him, and he rolled to his right. Pain lanced through his shredded muscles. He could hardly breathe. His body armor had barely saved his life, but it certainly hadn’t spared him from the agony coursing through him now.

More gunfire tore through the air. Some from the Hunters, some from Spitkovsky. He didn’t try to keep track of which was which. He just needed to put the Skulls between himself and Spitkovsky.

One of the beasts near him stumbled. Its mind was still under the influence of the Hunters. Dom surged up, fighting against the agony roiling through his limbs. He held the Skull in front of him, using it as a shield against Spitkovsky’s gunfire.

The beast absorbed a handful of rounds before its head rolled on its neck, tongue hanging slack out of its mouth. Dom charged straight at Spitkovsky with the beast in his arms. His leg nearly gave out from under him.

Spitkovsky ejected the magazine from his handgun and was starting to back away, fading into a group of Skulls. Dom shoved the one he was carrying forward into Spitkovsky. The corpse slammed into Spitkovsky, knocking the fresh magazine out of the Russian’s hands.

Dom reached for his HK45C with his right hand. He leveled the handgun straight at Spitkovsky.

His finger pumped the trigger. He couldn’t hold the handgun steady, not with the pain flowing through him like it was. Red bled into his vision, and his thoughts were nearly obliterated by the concussive lightning slicing through his nerves. Each shot came with a price. Another shock of agony igniting his own gunshot wounds.

But he was still alive. And as long as he was alive, he was determined to make sure Spitkovsky was not.

Bullets crashed into Spitkovsky, chiseling through the man’s bony armor. Flesh and blood flew. Spitkovsky let out an animalistic howl of pain. Blood colored the saliva spraying out of his fanged maw. He lowered his head at Dom and charged.

Dom tried to readjust his aim. Another round clipped Spitkovsky’s shoulder armor, but it was all he could manage. With the power of an enraged rhino, Spitkovsky barreled into Dom. Fresh flames coursed through Dom’s muscles. Every bone felt like it was breaking under Spitkovsky’s weight.

The Russian stood over him, blood drooling out of his mouth. More dripped from the bullet holes in his torso and shoulder. Dom could almost see the cells in Spitkovsky’s body working overtime, doing their best to stitch the wounds and grow over the exposed skin with fresh bony armor. His red eyes stabbed into Dom’s, and he drew a set of claws back, preparing to gore him.

The claws came down straight at Dom’s face.

Dom was weaker, smaller than this monstrosity. He had absolutely no chance to defeat him in hand-to-hand combat.

But that wouldn’t stop him. He caught Spitkovsky’s wrist with his right hand. His grip quaked like a broken dam trying to hold back a lake. Somehow, he managed to get his shattered left hand up, too, pushing back against Spitkovsky’s strength.

Spitkovsky opened his mouth, baring his fanged teeth. Blood dripped from their points, splashing against Dom’s face.

“I’m going to rip your daughters apart,” Spitkovsky growled. “I’ll unmake them, turn them into beasts. And then I’ll set them loose to eat you alive.”

A fire exploded in the back of Dom’s mind. Without the power of the Chimera restraining him, he unleashed the beast there. All the anger of the Heikegani Agent flowed through his bloodstream. His bones were reinforced with the Agent; his muscles fed off it. The biochemical cocktail stoked the emotions deep in his brain that had spun him and his team into a blind fury earlier.

He twisted Spitkovsky’s arm just enough so that he could roll out from under him. Spitkovsky’s claw cracked against the ground. Dom drew his knife. Spitkovsky roared and dodged. The blade cut through the air.

Didn’t matter. Spitkovsky didn’t stand a chance.

Dom buried the knife deep into Spitkovsky’s eye. He felt the blade slide in, imagined it splitting open the twisted brain that had dreamed up so many nightmares. Blood sprayed from the wound. Hot and sticky, it flowed over Dom’s fingers. But he didn’t let go. Not until Spitkovsky’s mouth went slack and he felt the man’s life fade.

The madman who had tried to rule the world was now nothing but deadweight. A sack of flesh and bones, cells already on their way to death. Soon to be nothing but a chunk of meat left to rot.

Dom stood, pushing Spitkovsky off him. He tasted the tang of cordite and blood in the air. His muscles throbbed, his wounds still screaming. He surveyed the room, recovering his rifle.

The Chimera, too, was dying. The Hunters had overcome it, and the FGL Hybrids still alive had started to retreat. They relinquished their hold on the Skulls. The beasts went wild, ravaging everything around them. They fought with each other, no doubt inundated with the chaotic surge of Heikegani Agent pheromones floating in the air.

Dom stalked away, leaving the nearby Skulls to tear at Spitkovsky’s body, ripping chunks of flesh from his bone. Devouring him bit by bit.

Never before had Dom known someone to die a more fitting death.

But death was still looming over him.

“Kara, Sadie!” he cried, surging over the corpses and slashing Skulls.

He saw Rachel and Rory covered in blood. Maybe theirs, maybe that of the Skulls around them. They hadn’t left their position, but Dom couldn’t see his girls in the throng of bodies.

Tears were already welling in his eyes as he pushed past the throng. He skirted around Rachel. Behind her, Sadie was still crouched over Kara. She was crying. But her hands were still where he had left them, staunching the bleeding over Kara’s shoulder.

“How is she?” Dom asked, crouching down beside her.

“Alive,” Sadie said.

Dom had never heard a sweeter word in his life.

***

Meredith inhaled deeply. The air stung her nose, full of the rotten odor of dying Skulls and bleeding Hybrids. A few Skulls were still pulling themselves across the floor. Their entrails dragged behind them. The Hunters made short work of them, double-tapping those too stubborn to die. Andris walked beside her, covered in gore. Miguel and Jenna were taking out the last few Skulls running down a corridor. Glenn and O’Neil covered the stage and chairs around it, most of which were now stained with a mix of blood and flesh, Skulls draped over them.

And the Chimera lay still, a giant beast next to what remained of Spitkovsky.

“Look at him,” Andris said, wiping the blood from his face. He only succeeded in smearing it around more.

“He didn’t deserve anything better,” Meredith said. She stepped over the twisted arm of a Skull, her rifle shouldered.

Two Skulls were scooping their claws into Spitkovsky’s flesh. Wild, red hair draped down over the face of one. Meredith imagined the woman that Skull used to be. The Skull was about her height. Same hair color too. If things had gone differently, it very well could’ve been her in this room, mindlessly shoveling scavenged meat into her mouth.

“Shall we put them out of their misery?” Andris asked.

“There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted to do more,” she replied.

Two gunshots.

Two more dead Skulls.

And that was it.

Meredith kicked one of the dead Skulls off of Spitkovsky. She aimed her helmet-mounted cam at it.

“Huntress—” she began.

She caught herself, going quiet.

“Shit,” she muttered. “In all this chaos, I forgot. Instincts die hard.”

A solemn look crossed Andris’s face. “Me, too.” He closed his eyes, crossed himself, and turned his face upward as if he could see straight through that ceiling toward the heavens above.

“Uh, HQ, this is Meredith,” she said.

“Copy,” Samantha’s voice crackled over the line.

“You seeing what I’m seeing?” Meredith asked.

“Saw the whole thing. I’ll send a confirmation to General Kinsey that Spitkovsky is dead.”

“Copy that,” Meredith said. “Over.”

She jogged over to Dom. He was on the ground, cradling Kara in his lap. The girl was unconscious, but her chest was moving up and down. Already, a large bruise was beginning to form on her scarred forehead.

Dom looked up at Meredith. A cut on his cheek wept crimson, and one of his eyes was beginning to swell shut.

“Is everyone okay?” he asked.

Meredith surveyed the room. “We survived.”

Dom nodded, then spoke into his comm link. “Hunters requesting pickup.”

“Black Hawk en route,” a pilot reported. “Going to have to be a quick one, surrounded by all these Skulls. They’re going wild on the Mall.”

Dom seemed to look around the room, surveying the carnage. “Pick us up on top of the Capitol building instead.”

“Copy.”

“Mere, get us up there,” Dom said. He lifted Kara, his rifle slung over his back.

“Consider it done,” Meredith said.

The climb up from the bunker and tunnel system under the Capitol didn’t take nearly as long as she had feared. She knew the path by heart, having been in the building plenty of times visiting with members of Senate and House Intelligence Committees. All those times she had passed through corridors filled with men and women in suits, doing her best to avoid the rotunda filled with tourists snapping pictures. The marble floors, Ionic columns, and ornate chandeliers throughout the building had always struck her as impressive, no matter how many times she’d wandered those halls.

But now the place was destitute. Bullet holes riddled the walls, and some of the blood-coated oil paintings had peeled out of their frames. Desiccated corpses and broken bones were scattered across the floor, tangled under the velvet ropes that had once been used for crowd control. The building was a place of nightmares.

Only a handful of Hybrids and Skulls stood in their way, attacking sporadically, often appearing surprised by the Hunters’ appearance. It was no mystery to Meredith why they were so confused. They had finally beheaded the FGL. What little power structure that remained under Spitkovsky had been scattered. The FGL couldn’t put up a coordinated attack against the Hunters. Not in here. Not while their operational focus was scattered around the United States.

Soon enough they were on the roof, standing next to the broken spotlights that normally illuminated the now-empty flagpole above them.

“Look at what has happened,” Andris said, rifle pressed against his shoulder. “It is like someone kicked an ant hive down there.”

Wind rustled over them. Meredith inched closer to Dom. He stared over the National Mall, his eyes focused on a point only he could see. Kara was still in his arms, wind whipping her hair around her face. Sadie’s eyes gleamed. Meredith lowered her rifle and held out a hand to the girl. Sadie took it.

The others scattered around their position in combat intervals, rifles aimed at the chaos. Packs of Skulls rushed across the lawn. They seemed to be attacking the groups of normal human FGL soldiers rushing through the streets. A few territorial Goliaths launched themselves at each other, rolling against the buildings and what was left of the vehicles in the streets.

“They’ve lost control completely,” Miguel said.

“Without Spitkovsky, they’re nothing but a gang with delusions of grandeur, each desperate to save themselves,” Glenn said.

“Where are all the Hybrids?” Jenna asked.

“If they’re smart, they’re escaping,” Meredith said. “Probably explains why they can’t tame the beasts down there anymore.”

“I wonder where the hell they’re going,” Andris said.

“Better be far, far from here,” Dom said in a low growl, clenching Kara tighter to his chest. “If not, we’ll take care of them.”

A Titan grappled with another. The duo slammed into the Rayburn House Office Building. Marble columns crumbled, and the roof caved in as the beasts fought.

O’Neil let out a wicked laugh, wiping at the streaks of blood streaming from his skeletal nostrils. “Spitkovsky thought he could control them. He thought he could control all of this. The guy was nuts. Crazier than an outhouse rat.”

Meredith gripped Sadie’s hand tighter. The thrum of chopper blades cut through the cloudy sky.

“He thought he could control us,” Meredith said. “Like all those civilians he’s conscripted. But trying to turn us into Hybrids was a mistake.”

He had done more than try. Even now, she could feel the Heikegani Agent humming in her bones. Still weaseling its way through her blood vessels. Her nails had grown longer, threatening to bud into claws, and she could feel the nodules pressing against the flesh near her joints.

“We used his powers against him,” Glenn said. “A poetic end to a power-hungry sociopath.”

The Black Hawk appeared out of the gray sky, drawing closer. Meredith felt a wave of relief when its rotor wash blasted against them. One by one, they piled into it. Almost as quickly as it had arrived, they took off again. The medical team onboard was already treating Kara and tending to the wounds of the others.

Meredith looked out over the destruction of Washington. The FGL had been squarely handed an unexpected defeat here. But the wounds of the nation that she had sworn to protect so many decades ago could not be treated as easily as the gashes and lacerations being bandaged up by the medics. The psychological damage that had been wrought—not just on the Hunters but everyone who had lived through the slaughter—would have lasting impacts on whatever civilization rose from this new world.

But Meredith figured she might be getting ahead of herself. After all, this night was not yet over. Spitkovsky’s defeat was certain, but the Skull armies were still attacking the American bases.

She prayed for the men and women like Colonel Shepherd still holding the line. Even though the Hunters had taken out Spitkovsky, they still needed somewhere to land.

-35-

“Tenth Plague is ready for deployment,” Lieutenant Saito said. He wiped at the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he stared back at Shepherd.

“It’s the right decision, sir,” Vasquez whispered. “It’s our only choice.”

Shepherd looked around at the other officers assembled in the CIC. Several were still transmitting communications; others had gone silent, looking at him for confirmation that he really was about to condone the full-scale genocide of civilians who had come to their protection.

A tear rolled down Vasquez’s cheek. Even though she was a proponent of the plan, she didn’t like it. Shepherd had met men and women who had to make decisions like this. Deliberate sacrifices of the few so that the many could live. They often didn’t last long themselves, so tortured by those decisions that they circled the drain into oblivion, mental despair clouding every moment of their lives.

So, too, would everyone in this room suffer.

Including Shepherd. “Saito, deploy the—”

“Colonel!” one of the officers said. “Look!”

The officer pointed to the monitor.

A woman strode across an open courtyard, looking as if she was headed to the wall.

“Zoom in!” Shepherd said.

He saw it wasn’t just any woman. It was Caldwell. Shepherd clenched his jaw. This was who he would condemn to die. A woman whose husband had been murdered. A woman who had dared stand up for others like her.

But the monitors across the room showed Skulls climbing the walls. A few spilled over into the base. Soldiers clashed with them in gunfire and hand-to-hand combat. He had to act. It was the only choice.

“What is she doing?” Vasquez asked.

“I don’t know,” Saito said, shaking his head.

“I can tell security to take her down!” another officer cried. “She might be trying to stop the Tenth Plague deployment.”

Caldwell didn’t have any weapons. Except for her claws.

“Good God,” Shepherd said, “I think she’s going to help defend the base.” A few men at the wall raised their rifles at her. “Tell our people to stand down! Do not shoot her!”

She wasn’t alone. A tide of Hybrids followed her, rolling past the soldiers and civilian recruits manning the defenses. Caldwell climbed up the wall. She stood next to the soldiers still firing into the chaotic crowd of Skulls.

“Something is happening to the Skulls,” Saito said.

Shepherd watched the monitors. The Goliaths were beginning to fight each other, battling for dominance. Titans crashed together. One fell to the ground, crushing a pack of Skulls beneath it.

“The Hybrids—the FGL Hybrids—are no longer in sight,” Vasquez said. “Where’d they go?”

“I’m getting reports from the North Gate that they saw the Hybrids retreating,” another officer reported.

Shepherd couldn’t understand why. This battle looked all but won for the FGL. “Even if they’re gone, the Skulls aren’t,” Shepherd said. “We’re not out of the woods. Nowhere near it.”

“Sir, the Tenth Plague?” Saito asked.

Shepherd stared at Caldwell. If she was willing to stand on those walls, somehow having recruited all the civilian Hybrids, there was no way he could betray her.

“Hold off on Tenth Plague deployment,” Shepherd said. “I repeat, do not let them deploy it.”

“Copy,” Saito said.

“You think they can hold the Skulls back with their claws?” Vasquez asked, surveying the monitors.

“I don’t know,” Shepherd said, “but they seem to think they can. Saito, get ahold of someone on that wall who knows what the Hybrids are doing.”

Shepherd saw Caldwell go still. Her eyes closed, and she held up a fist. All the other civilian Hybrids seemed to fall into a trance. They wavered slightly as they stood, claws clenched. Gunfire exploded around them, and yet they seemed to be meditating.

“What in the hell is going on?” Vasquez asked.

“They’re... they’re using the Heikegani Agent against the FGL,” Shepherd said. “They’re trying to take control.”

“Sir, we just got a report that Spitkovsky is dead!” an officer said, jumping from his seat. “The Hunters are reporting that Spitkovsky is dead!”

“Don’t get too excited,” Shepherd said. “Have the attacks ended—or are the Skulls still there?”

The officer’s expression drooped as he listened to his headset. “You’re right, sir. The other bases under attack are still dealing with Skulls and all their variants. Most have no more Pacifist Fog left to deploy. I’m hearing other reports considering widespread Tenth Plague deployment.”

“Tell them if they’ve got any civilian Hybrids in there to let those people do their magic,” Shepherd said. “It might be the only way to get this thing under control.”

“Yes, sir,” the officer said.

Shepherd watched the screen, his arms folded across his chest. He had to remind himself to breathe, he was so caught up in what the Hybrids were doing. Slowly, the Skulls across the fields began to stagger and become confused. They acted like drunks, running in fits toward the wall then skidding to a stop and starting to back away. These were civilians, barely capable of controlling the biological abilities they’d been gifted by the curse that was the Heikegani Agent. This would be a tremendous struggle for them.

And indeed, several of the Hybrids on the wall collapsed. A couple fell off, teetering over the side, into the field with the Skulls. Others tumbled backward into the base, where medics ran to their sides. Even from the cameras’ wide-angle views, Shepherd could see the blood flowing from their nostrils and ears as they focused on those biochemical signaling cascades that were pulling at the Skulls’ killer directives.

They didn’t have perfect control. Shepherd wouldn’t expect untrained Hybrids to wield such power with the grace of the Hunter, O’Neil. But they didn’t need it. They just needed to give the forces at Detrick an opening.

Between his men and the sustained air support, they chiseled away at the Skulls’ numbers. Nearly frozen in place, the beasts went down in waves.

“It’s working,” Saito said.

Vasquez whispered beside Shepherd, “I’m sorry for ever suggesting we deploy the Tenth Plague, sir.”

“Don’t feel guilty now,” Shepherd said. “If it weren’t for Caldwell, I would have done it.”

Time seemed to slow as if he himself were under the influence of the Hybrids. More Skulls fell. The AC-130Us high above them continued to make their passes, eating at the monsters’ numbers. Soon, nothing was left besides the craters and scattered remains of the beasts.

“We did it,” Shepherd muttered. “We held them off.”

Fort Detrick was still his.

***

A strange feeling resonated through Kara’s bones. Mechanical vibrations like she was inside a big washing machine.

There was a dull pain across her shoulder and chest, but more than anything, she felt thirsty. Dehydrated.

“Water,” she croaked.

The sounds around her became louder, less muddled. She was in a vehicle. No doubt about that.

She pushed open her eyes. A haze covered her vision. She blinked as her name came at her from all around, seeming to echo in her head.

The dull pain was no longer so dull. It grew into a stabbing, throbbing agony. She tried to reach up with her right hand to grab at the area of her chest where it felt the worst. But her arm could hardly move. Every time she tensed her muscles, it got worse.

“Stay still,” someone said to her.

An unfamiliar voice.

Where was she? Oh God, was she still with Spitkovsky? Had her dad failed?

“Kara?” It was Sadie. “Kara, it’s me! You gotta hold still or else you’ll make it hurt worse, okay?”

She felt her sister’s hand intertwine with her own. It was cold and clammy, but the gentle pressure warmed Kara to her core.

Her vision at last began to clear. She saw Sadie above her, long auburn hair draping over her in a curtain. Beside her was an unfamiliar man. He had a white band with a red cross on it. A medic.

“You’re going to be okay.” The medic wrapped another piece of medical tape around an IV needle inserted in the top of her left hand. “Just need some more fluids. You lost a good deal of blood.”

“Where are we?” she asked.

“In a Black Hawk over Maryland,” a familiar voice answered.

“Dad?”

Dom scooted forward so she could see him. Now she was beginning to make more sense of her surroundings. She was secured in a stretcher. Inside a helicopter, not a truck as she’d first thought. From her vantage point, she could see a few of the Hunters. Rachel and Rory too.

“I’m right here,” Dom said. Dried blood covered his face. He wasn’t wearing his usual battle jacket. Instead, he had on only a blood-stained T-shirt. Bandages covered his shoulders.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Got hit,” he said. “Body armor took most of the damage.”

There was a bandage around his leg too.

“Body armor didn’t protect that,” she said.

“No, but I’m alive,” he said.

“Hurts?”

“You bet,” he said. “But not as much as seeing you girls with Spitkovsky.”

“Is he... is he dead?” Kara managed, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.

“Yes, he’s dead.”

“The FGL?”

“Scattered. Maybe not completely gone, but we cut the head off the snake. Heard reports that we’re taking back our bases. I think we’re going to be okay.”

“Good.” Kara felt a smile cross her lips. Shaky, but she managed it.

Dom squeezed her shoulder. She could tell he wanted to give her a hug, but with the bandages, stretcher, and IV line, that wasn’t going to happen right now. “You have no idea how worried I was about you.” A wet sheen washed over his eyes. “I love you both so much.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

Then a sour look came over her father’s face. “Don’t ever pull that shit again, all right?”

“What shit?”

Her dad raised a brow. “Trying to be a hero. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” she said. “Actually, no. I’m not sorry. It’s what you would have done.”

His grip on her shoulder tightened slightly. “I’ll be damned if you turn out like me.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Sadie added. “Maggie would’ve been pissed, too.”

“We going to see her soon?” Kara asked, although it wasn’t just the dog she was thinking about. The rest of the crew was out there. And with them, she hoped, there was a certain somebody who she had missed for far too long.

“We are,” Dom said. “First, we’re making a pit stop.”

-36-

The Black Hawk touched down at Fort Detrick. Those who could walk filed off the chopper. Meredith had to lend Dom a shoulder as he limped out. One of the medics meeting them on the tarmac handed him a pair of crutches, which he gladly took.

All the adrenaline from taking out Spitkovsky and desperately racing through the capitol with Kara in his arms had worn off. Every step he had taken had exacerbated the wound in his leg, and he was paying for it now. The shredded tissue in his right arm did not feel good either, and he was thankful for the mild painkillers the medics had given him.

The rest of the Hunters stayed by his side as they slowly made their way across the tarmac. Vehicles raced down the roads, ambulances screaming. A few cracks of gunfire bit the air. Columns of smoke rose outside the base. Each time the wind picked up, Dom could smell the odor of carrion and ash.

But from what they saw in the chopper on the way down, there had been very little movement outside the base. Once Spitkovsky died, the FGL seemed to have lost its momentum.

“Captain Holland!” a deep voice rumbled across the tarmac. Colonel Jacob Shepherd stepped out of the front seat of a Humvee and strode toward them. He gave Dom a hearty handshake.

“We heard what you did,” Shepherd continued. “Amazing. The bastard is dead.”

Dom nodded solemnly. “And I see Detrick is still standing.”

“It is,” Shepherd said. “The civilian Hybrids... you should have seen them. Bravest damn people I’ve met.”

“I know what they can do,” Dom said. “We’re lucky to have a man like O’Neil on our side. Makes all the difference in the world.”

“I’ve learned my lesson on that,” Shepherd said.

He greeted the others in kind before embracing both Rachel and Rory. Then he ushered them into the waiting Humvees and took them to Detrick’s HQ. They were led into a conference room with cots and food, where the uninjured could rest. Those who needed more medical attention were taken to the base’s clinic. That included Dom.

After a couple of hours spent getting wounds cleaned and stitched, Dom was back in the conference room with the others. Shepherd joined them there, beckoning them all to sit around the table.

“I’ve got someone who wants to talk to you all,” Shepherd said.

Dom waited for the conference room door to open again. But instead, Shepherd hit a button that turned a wall-mounted monitor on. The screen sparked to life, and the grizzled face of General Kinsey appeared.

“Captain Holland, Meredith Webb,” Kinsey began, “and the rest of you who I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting, on behalf of the United States, I want to thank you for what you’ve done today. I admit, I didn’t think it was possible—and that is how I knew you all would be the ones to do it. Only the Hunters could have brought down Spitkovsky.”

“Always knew we could do it,” Dom said. “Just took the right amount of perseverance and support from everyone involved.”

“You and I both know we didn’t offer all the support you needed. Time and time again, you’ve proven me and our colleagues wrong. And I’ve never been so glad to be so wrong.” He seemed to force a brief, gruff laugh. “The President extends his deep gratitude for the sacrifices your team has made. I do not believe I would be able to stand here now, telling you that we have hope for the future of the country if it weren’t for your efforts. We’re already in the process of cleaning the mess the FGL left behind. Skull activity is being tracked, and we have teams hunting down the remnants of FGL forces across the States. The threat has not been eliminated, and we still have more than enough work to do to keep all of us employed for the foreseeable future. But we are optimistic—and I do not say that lightly—that the worst is over. There is now a future for humanity that did not exist before. Thank you.”

With that, the call ended.

“What, Kinsey didn’t want to stick around and shoot the bull?” Miguel asked.

“Not a man who likes to chit-chat,” Jenna said.

“At least he’s not pointing fingers at us again, telling us we messed something up,” Dom said. “I’ll take this side of him.”

“It’s a rare one, to be sure,” Shepherd said. “Look, we’ve got a lot of work to do to get things at Detrick in working order. Same story all across the United States, but it’s not nearly as bad as it could have been. In the end, we lost a couple of bases, but most survived the night.”

“Glad to hear it,” Meredith said. “Things were looking pretty dark for a while.”

“That they were.” Shepherd looked aside for a moment as if there was something on his mind that he wasn’t telling them. When he met Dom’s gaze again, any traces of uncertainty seemed to have vanished. “I’ve been authorized to get you guys back to the Azores Islands with a shipment of Phoenix Compound we’re hoping to get to Europe. From what I understand, the rest of your team is still there. Kinsey wanted to put you on a mission to help clean out any remaining FGL sleeper cells that might still be operating in the United States. I told him you deserve a break. Hell, you need a break.”

The Hunters looked at Dom. He could tell they would go back out in the field if he ordered it. But he also knew that was the last thing they needed. They were bruised and bandaged. Their physical injuries were just the tip of the iceberg when it came to the burdens they carried. Their ship was gone. So many of their brothers and sisters were gone. And soon, with no evidence of a cure on the horizon, the Heikegani Agent might take them.

He had no idea how much time he or Meredith or any of the others really had left.

“We really could use a break,” Dom said. “Been dreaming about that for a while.”

“Good,” Shepherd said. “That’s what I was hoping to hear. You’ll be cleared to board for the next flight out in about three hours. Is that enough time to prepare?”

Dom looked around at the others. Every material possession he had left in this world was currently on his person. They’d lost everything when the Huntress had been destroyed. Everything except each other.

“Plenty of time,” Dom responded.

***

A relatively smooth flight later, Dom found himself with the others in the Azores Islands. The green, mountainous island where Lajes Field was located had never looked nicer as they descended. There the airfield was covered in a rush of activity as other planes taxied to hangars, offloading evacuees from Europe. While the FGL forces were starting to disperse, no one was letting their guard down.

Portuguese airmen met their plane, escorting the Hunters to one of the hotels in the nearby town of Praia da Vitória that they were using to house refugees.

Dom yearned to see the rest of the team who had stayed behind on the island. But he and the Hunters were relegated to the hotel for several hours as the locals dealt with the influx of people at Lajes Field.

He was resting on the balcony of their hotel suite with his leg propped up on a small table. Meredith was seated next to him, her hand in his. A cool sea breeze swirled off the Atlantic, rushing over them. Kara and Sadie were leaning against each other, both having nodded off on a bench on the balcony.

Dom closed his eyes. Exhaustion seeped through every part of him. At least, every part of him that didn’t hurt because of the Heikegani Agent or the wounds he’d sustained. Meredith massaged the top of his hand.

“We made it, Dom,” she whispered. “We made it. We can rest now.”

He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until a loud knock on the door startled him.

“You order room service?” Meredith asked him, rubbing her eyes.

“Don’t know what I did in my sleep,” he said.

Groggily, he accepted her help to stand, and they made their way to the door after assuring the girls that everything was okay. It would take a long time for them to heal from the trauma they’d experienced, and Dom felt himself wanting to kill Spitkovsky all over again.

Dom opened the door to see Lauren standing there, still in scrubs, looking a bit disheveled.

“Captain!” she said. Her eyes scanned him and Meredith, and she seemed to realize that they were half asleep. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Please, Lauren,” Meredith said. “We’re glad to see you.”

Dom and Meredith took turns embracing the doctor.

“How are you?” Dom asked. “And the rest of the crew?”

“I’m good,” Lauren said. “Chao and Sean are both stable and doing better. Going to have some scars, but they’re awake and talking. We were scared for a little while, but I think everyone’s going to be in the clear soon.”

Dom breathed a sigh of relief. “That makes me happier to hear than you can imagine.”

“Me, too,” Lauren said. Her expression dropped. “But there are some things we should discuss. You have time?”

Dom held the door open wider so she could come in. They sat around the small table in the hotel room.

“Navid had an idea that I think might just work,” Lauren said.

“An idea for what?”

“The Heikegani Agent.” Lauren smiled. “We think we can stop it.”

“How?” Meredith asked.

“We can build off the Tenth Plague and, ironically enough, the work the FGL was forcing us to do for them. They actually had us design something that would stop the Tenth Plague from getting through the blood–brain barrier.”

Dom let that sink in for a bit, doing his best to understand what she was saying. “So you can stop the Heikegani Agent in our bones, but in our brain, it’ll still go untouched?”

“Right,” Lauren said. “We think that the neurological changes will be permanent, but at least we can help stop people from going full Hybrid.”

“That sounds promising,” he said. “Will it help O’Neil?”

“It should.”

“How soon until we can get this working?”

“I want to do this right,” Lauren said. “I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone in the process, so that involves some lengthy testing and experimentation. It will probably take a year or so before I’m fully confident in this treatment strategy.”

“A year...” Dom pictured his bones in the meantime. The pain of the nodules growing. Right now, at least, they weren’t progressing so long as he kept taking the Halo pills. “So in the meantime, we have to keep everyone drugged up.”

“I’m afraid so,” Lauren said. “We can maintain production of the Halo pills, thanks to the information you found in Siberia. We have everything we need to keep manufacturing them.”

At least the faint pains of the Heikegani Agent worming through his body no longer felt like such a death sentence. He trusted Lauren’s work. Not only did it have the potential to save himself and the Hunters, but it would be another nail in the coffin for the FGL’s influence over the world.

“Good job, Lauren,” Dom said. “We owe you and your team big time.”

Meredith laughed. “The whole damn world owes them big time.”

Lauren smiled. “I’m just doing my job. We all are.”

Dom leaned back in the chair. Every little movement hurt. It would hurt for a while. But at least, at the end of it, he knew there was actually a day when things would feel better.

Hell, the whole world had to feel like him. Torn up, half-destroyed. But for the first time since the Skulls first appeared, he didn’t just have hope.

He knew for a fact that humanity would recover. The FGL had lost.

-Epilogue-

Boca Chica Beach, Naval Air Station Key West

Four Weeks Later

––––––––

The warmth of the Florida sun was a welcome reprieve from the cold memories of Siberia. Meredith sat up from the lounge chair just enough to find the margarita resting on the cooler beside her.

“This isn’t quite the beach vacation I was expecting,” Meredith said. “But all else considered, I wouldn’t mind being stationed here for a while longer.”

Dom laughed. “Glad to hear that, because that’s exactly what I requested with Kinsey.”

Meredith could get used to this. They all had a long way to go before Lauren and the rest of the medical team finished their research on the remedy to stop Heikegani Agent infections, but at least the Halo pills would block the infection for now. She leaned over from her chair to give Dom a peck on the lips.

“I’m thinking we should just settle down here,” Meredith said.

“I’m not opposed.”

“Really?”

Dom looked out at his family. Sadie threw a stick and Maggie ran after it, a tail of sand pluming in the air behind her. Kara was looking better, walking slowly along the ankle-deep water with Navid, leaning into each other to support themselves. Navid’s family had arrived in the Keys not long ago and were strolling nearby. His younger sister, Yasamin, seemed to have become fast friends with Kara.

Navid’s parents, Atash and Anahita, had brought their skills down to the Keys, already helping out around the base. And, more importantly, enjoying well-deserved time together as a family.

“I’m excited for Navid,” Meredith said. “Can’t believe they found his family in Canada. All those lies and deception, and they were held prisoner near their home that whole time.”

“It’s a damn shame the FGL sleeper cells through North America went unnoticed for so long,” Dom said. “The US has a lot of work to do, deprogramming all those civilian Hybrids who were conscripted into the FGL’s forces.”

“At least we’ve begun to root them out. It sounds like the military is pretty certain that they’ve destroyed most, if not all of them.”

“I hope so,” Dom said. “But you know how the FGL is.”

She sighed. “I do.”

According to what they’d uncovered in Siberia, the FGL had been preparing for the Oni Agent apocalypse for quite some time. Meredith had disrupted those plans when she discovered the International Biologics at Sea Lab in the Atlantic thanks to a chance memo. When the Hunters raided the lab, it had kicked off the FGL’s plan much earlier than expected, and the sleeper cells had been forced to deliver the Oni Agent any way they could. The bastards had added it to food and water supplies as well as infecting people directly and spreading it through hospitals.

Apparently, the FGL hadn’t wanted to spread the Agent until they had perfected their other creations: Titans and Hybrids. Their plan had been to unleash everything on the world at once. But the Hunters had unknowingly forced the FGL’s hand, and the FGL had acted rashly. Meredith shivered, thinking how the war could have turned out if the FGL had had more time to prepare.

“Really,” Dom said at last, dragging her back to the present moment. She was here with Dom now. They were safe. That was the important thing. “The girls are happy. The crew deserves the break, and I’ve had enough of the mainland to last me a lifetime.”

“Island life is pretty sweet,” Meredith said, taking another sip of her margarita.

The roar of jet engines tore through the sky as a plane took off from Boca Chica field.

The team had been set up with waterfront houses on the marina of Big Coppitt Key. While there had been more than enough available houses to go around, the Hunters had stuck close together. Jenna had claimed that they’d had more cramped quarters on the ship and weren’t used to so much room or being so spread out. It was no longer natural for them.

Meredith had the sneaking suspicion that even though the threat of Skulls and the FGL in the Florida Keys was nearly zero, none of the crew could imagine living alone. There was a certain feeling of safety and security that came with knowing one of the few people in this world they trusted with their life was sleeping in the room next to theirs.

Even the whole medical team had been moved down here with them. Lauren, Navid, Peter, Divya, and Sean helped out the clinic at the Naval Air Station Key West when they could. Most of their time was spent directing experiments and managing projects remotely with the scientists and researchers back in Detrick. No longer were they doing both the jobs of principal investigators and lab techs and doctors all at once; they could focus on digging deep into the research literature and working with computer simulations to inform the laboratory work taking place elsewhere.

Down the beach, Miguel, Jenna, and O’Neil were jogging through the shallow tides. Terrence had joined them today, his prosthetics gleaming in the water’s spray.

“Always ready, aren’t they?” Meredith asked.

“I don’t think they know how to rest,” Dom said.

“They’ll learn eventually.”

Dom reached into a bag beside his chair and pulled out a cigar. He closed his eyes and inhaled its scent.

“Thomas’s?” Meredith asked softly.

Dom nodded. “They found his humidor in the Huntress’s wreckage. It was in the old man’s safe. I couldn’t believe it survived.”

Meredith sighed and looked out over the water. “He would’ve loved this.”

“This was always his plan. All he wanted after we won this damn war was to enjoy a cigar.” Dom twisted the cigar, examining it as if he was looking for defects. “Before this whole thing started with the Oni Agent, he’d usually smoke one a day. Always around sunset. Always around the bow of the ship. That was his tradition. It’s how I like to think of him now.”

“Thomas was a great man,” Meredith said. “But I have to admit, he was pretty much exactly the type of guy you’d expect to spend a life at sea.”

Dom laughed as he pulled a matchbox from his pack. “That he was.” His eyes traced the horizon. “Hell of a first mate, hell of a friend.”

“Hell of a human being.” Meredith held up her margarita, and Dom met it with a glass of Glenlivet he’d poured for himself. “To Thomas.”

“To Thomas,” Dom agreed. He took a sip of his scotch then put the cigar between his lips.

Three weeks ago, they had held a ceremony of remembrance for all those Hunters who had perished in the war. Emotions welled up now in Meredith as she remembered all those who couldn’t be on this beach with them now. She would never forget just how lucky she had been to survive.

Finally, Dom took out a match. The cigar lit easily, and Dom inhaled a breath. Smoke came back out, and Meredith smelled the alluring aroma of tobacco and scotch as it danced on the gentle sea breeze. After a moment, he surprised Meredith by passing the cigar to her.

“I was supposed to be sharing this with Thomas,” he said. “But I don’t think he’d be happy to know I was smoking this alone. How about if I indulge with my new first mate?”

Meredith took the cigar. “I’m your first mate now, huh?”

“I need someone to share this life with,” Dom said, sounding unexpectedly serious. “Maybe someone who’s a bit more than a first mate. What do you say?”

Meredith inhaled then blew the smoke upward. She tried not to cough, her eyes watering.

“Dominic Holland, are you trying to ask me to marry you?”

“Marriage, partnership, whatever you want to call it,” Dom said. “What I’m trying to say is that whatever comes next in this life, I want to face it by your side.”

Meredith watched the tendrils of smoke wind off the end of the cigar. She didn’t answer right away. She liked watching Dom squirm. He wasn’t exactly a man of expressive emotions, and it was fun to see the slight hint of desperation on his face.

***

Hanging chili pepper lights glowed red against a wall decked with lifesavers, taxidermy fish, a wooden ship’s wheel, and other memorabilia. Dom expected nothing less from a local dive bar called The Captain’s Pub. He could think of no better place to have a night of celebration with the rest of the crew.

The floor was sticky, and the bar smelled of stale beer, but no one cared. Cheerful conversation and laughter bubbled through the place. He smiled at his crew—his family, damn it—and then looked over at Meredith. She had an impish smile on her face, the only hint that she was hiding a major secret.

Dom cleared his throat. Heads swiveled toward him, and the happy conversation died down. “I have an announcement to make,” he began.

“We have an announcement,” Meredith corrected.

He reached down and squeezed her hand. “Mere and I are getting married,” he said, cutting to the chase.

The announcement resulted in popping bottles and toasts that ranged from heartfelt to borderline obscene. Andris offered to set off fireworks in their honor, but the other Hunters convinced him that he shouldn’t blow up the only operational bar in Key West.

Miguel leaned over the bar near Dom. Already his breath smelled of beer, and that shit-eating grin of his had become a permanent fixture tonight. “Chief, you know what?”

“Tell me, brother.”

“You made a lot of promises along this journey, and I would feel remiss if I didn’t remind you of them.”

“Oh?”

“If I recall correctly,” Miguel continued, holding a single finger in the air as if making an important point, “you always enticed us with the promise of drinks. Rounds of drinks.”

Andris squeezed in next to Miguel. “My count is six rounds, Captain.”

“They’re right,” Jenna said. “Although, I seem to remember maybe seven or eight rounds.”

O’Neil raised a clawed hand. “They’re not lying, on my honor as a Hybrid.”

Dom sighed. “Then I guess I start repaying my debt tonight.” He turned to the bartender. “Whatever these guys want, put it on my tab.”

Glenn raised his glass. “Oh, Captain! My Captain!”

“To the Chief and to Meredith!” Miguel said.

Another cheer went up, joined in by the rest of the crew scattered around the cramped tables and barstools. Dom looked toward a corner where Kara and Sadie sat talking with Navid and his sister, Yasamin. He wasn’t too keen on his daughters hanging out in a place like this, but he trusted them and his crew to take care of each other. Hell, even Maggie had joined them, sitting attentively between Kara and Sadie, her shaggy tail brushing the floor.

In another corner, Frank had his aviator sunglasses pulled over his eyes as he told a captivated audience of men and women they’d befriended from the naval base about one of his daring adventures.

“That’s when I swooped in,” Frank said, using his hand to demonstrate. “Flew right over those Skulls’ heads. I could hear the scratches of their claws against the bottom of the bird. I felt like the King himself in his blue suede shoes running from my groupies. I pulled up on the cyclic and, bam, got air again.”

Jett laughed. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Frank lowered his sunglasses, peering over them. “You mean about how everyone cheered when I escaped those bastards?”

“No, that moment you thought you were going to die. That the bird was going to crash land right into those Skulls.”

“Ah, yes, I felt a surge of courage and—”

“You mean a surge of piss,” Jett cut in. “The story you told me, you said you peed yourself from fear.”

The table laughed.

Frank held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. She’s lying! Fabio has never wet his pants.”

Jett gave him a playful punch in the shoulder then raised a glass to him. “Well, to never pissing our pants out of fear again!”

“I’m starting to think we should’ve left you back in the Middle East,” Frank said. But he smiled as he did so, draping a hand around Jett’s shoulder and pulling her in close as she grinned back at him.

“Excuse me for a second,” Dom said to the Hunters, sliding through the group toward the pub’s door.

He let the door close behind him. The stars didn’t have to contend with much light pollution out here. They glowed overhead in a sea of black, all looking down at Dom and the others like eternal guardians watching over a world struggling to hold onto its place in the cosmos.

“They’re still out there,” a voice said.

He didn’t need to turn his head to know it was Meredith who had joined him. Her hand slipped into his.

“And God knows we aren’t going to forget any of them,” she said, “or what they’ve done for us.”

The door opened and shut again. This time he heard the tip-tap of claws against concrete. A cold snout pressed against his free hand. Maggie wagged her tail, pressing up against him. Behind her were Kara and Sadie.

“What are you guys up to?” Sadie asked.

“Getting some fresh air,” Dom said. “It’s a beautiful night.”

“Sure is,” Kara said.

“Just got a lot more beautiful now that I’m surrounded by the three most amazing women in the world.”

“You mean four,” Sadie corrected him, tousling Maggie’s fur.

Kara laughed. “You might be some kind of secret agent ship captain, but God, you’re just as corny as any other dad.”

“I strive to do my best,” Dom said.

The four of them stayed that way for a while, watching the dark waves roll in, reflecting the light of the stars. Even Maggie seemed to understand the solemnity of the moment, sitting patiently beside her human family. Dom could’ve stayed the whole night, surrounded by those he loved with the sounds of laughter and joy wafting from the pub.

But something caught his eyes in the distance. Something that made his insides twist.

“I didn’t think I had that much to drink,” Dom said.

“I’m seeing it, too,” Meredith said.

“Oh. My. God,” Sadie said, separating each word.

He called to the others from inside the pub. His Hunters needed to see this. The whole group ran to the end of the marina.

Like a ghost, a sleek, gray ship slowed in the waters. Normally, it would be nearly invisible. But tonight, it was lit up like Las Vegas. It let out a long bellow on its horn. Dom knew that sound all too well.

“It’s the Huntress,” Miguel said. Then he looked around at the rest of the group. “Seriously, how drunk am I?”

“It can’t be,” Dom said. He’d seen the wreck with his own eyes.

But it was a Visby-class corvette. No doubt about it.

The very same family of stealth vessels that the Huntress had come from. Only six other ships had ever been produced.

Soon, the cargo hold of the ship opened, illuminated by the glow of red battle lights. A Zodiac dropped out and zoomed toward the marina.

“Who is that?” Andris said, instinctively reaching for a rifle that wasn’t there. “Do we need to be worried?”

The question was answered soon enough as the Zodiac pulled into an open slip.

“Ahoy, Captain!” Midshipman Rachel Kaufman said, climbing onto the dock.

Rory Booker followed behind her after helping up a new four-legged companion of theirs. The German Shepherd barked and wound between the greeting party, pausing to sniff at Maggie. The two dogs took turns learning each other’s smells before their tails exploded in a contest to see whose could wag the hardest.

“Where the heck did you find that?” Navid asked, his eyes wide.

“German Shepherd we found living on Kent Island,” Rory said. “Guy’s owner died trying to save the dog. No one really could give her a proper home, so we took her in.”

“Glad that’s solved,” Navid said. “But I was talking about the boat.”

“Oh, yeah, that,” Rachel said, a grin breaking across her face. “It’s a gift from General Kinsey. They had the thing docked for a while after we took it from Admiral Mokri. They weren’t sure what to do with it, and eventually Kinsey sent a crew down here to deliver it to you all. If, of course, you want it.”

“What’s the catch?” Dom asked, expecting strings attached when Kinsey was involved.

“Kinsey said the Huntress was your private property, lost in the course of working for the US government. You deserve ‘proper compensation,’” Rachel said. “So he said it was only right that you all get a new ship. I think you can do whatever you want with it.”

“But he kind of expects you’d be willing to help out every once and a while, I think,” Rory added.

“Of course,” Meredith said.

“Thing is,” Dom said slowly, “I’ve been feeling at home here.” He looked around at the rest of the crew. “And I think they have, too.”

“No obligation,” Rachel said. “And I think Kinsey expected that. He said the ship’s permanent home could be right here if you agree. You only have to take it out when you want to.”

“I never finished learning how to work on that engine,” Kara said.

“And a first mate isn’t really a first mate if you don’t have a ship,” Meredith said. “I don’t mind field work just as long as we have a home we can return to again.”

The others murmured around him, looking at Dom expectantly.

“You all are terrible,” he said. “We get a chance to relax, and first thing you want to do is get back on a ship.”

Rory gestured toward the corvette. “If it helps, Shepherd told Kinsey we should join the crew.”

“Wait a second,” Dom said, “you’re telling me you two come with the ship as part of some kind of package deal?”

“Us and a few others,” Rachel said.

“Now you’re just trying to guilt me into it.”

Rory shrugged. “Hey, whatever gets us sailing.”

“Damn it.” Dom looked around at the crew. “Well then, what do we name her?”

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THE END of The Tide: Final Surge, the last book in The Tide series.

For the reader.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading to The Tide: Final Surge. I hope you’ve enjoyed the journey with Dom, Meredith, the Hunters, and all the allies and enemies they made along the way. I’m so glad you’ve followed along through this series. Without your support, I wouldn’t be writing these books today.

A huge thanks also goes to my editor, Erin Long, whose insight and careful word crafting helped polish the story, characters, and my writing. Thanks to Eloise Knapp, too, who not only provided amazing artwork for each book, but also her support throughout the series.

While I’ve finished the main storyline of The Tide, there is much left to be explored in the world of the Oni Agent. I hope to return to these characters and more in the future. In the meantime, if you’re interested in future releases and other works of mine, please consider joining my mailing list. I won’t spam you and I won’t share your email: http://bit.ly/ajmlist

I love to hear from 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

What to read next?

While the main storyline of The Tide is now complete, there’s always room for more post-apocalyptic adventures and there is no doubt I’ll be returning to this series. But if you’re looking for an immediate taste of post-apocalyptic action, frightening science, and nightmarish creatures, NY Times bestselling author Nicholas Sansbury Smith and I teamed up to write a series based off his Extinction Cycle books. You can pick up Book 1, Extinction Shadow here on Amazon: https://amzn.to/2GiiEPL

If you’re a fan of The Tide, you’ll love Nick’s series and I hope you like what we did with it in this chapter of the story!

Also by Anthony J Melchiorri

Eternal Frontier

When an unexpected attack cripples a scientific vessel, the ship's sole survivor, Tag Brewer, discovers a terrifying secret. It's up to Tag to survive long enough to warn humanity and stop the dawn of a new war.

Find it here: http://amzn.to/2d2TeJn

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Enhancement (Black Market DNA #1)

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In the year 2058, Baltimore’s latest crime epidemic is illegal genetic enhancements. Convicted dealer Christopher Morgan finds himself on a hit-list before he’s even released from prison. In a race for survival, he must uncover a shocking conspiracy involving organized crime and genetic engineering.

Find it here: http://amzn.to/1rhSboa

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The God Organ

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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.

Find it here: http://amzn.to/1yjmMGF

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The Human Forged

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Former Army Specialist Nick Corrigan is abducted and unwittingly becomes embroiled in a biotechnological nightmare. He embarks on a dangerous adventure to return home. The only person that might be able to help him is a man Nick never knew existed—his clone. 

Back in Washington, CIA analyst Sara Monahan makes a startling discovery while tracking the use of biological weapons in an ongoing war in Africa. She races to uncover a global conspiracy that may shake the very essence of what it means to be human. 

Find it here: http://bit.ly/thf14

About the Author

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.