EMERGENCE: Annihilation, Book 6 (The Emergence Series), page 1
EMERGENCE
Annihilation
Volume 6
By
JT Sawyer
Copyright
Copyright March 2019 by JT Sawyer
Edited by Emily Nemchick
Cover art by EbookLaunch.com
No part of this book may be transmitted in any form whether electronic, recording, scanned, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction and the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, incidents, or events is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Prologue
Venezuelan Navy Hospital Ship, Paloma
Somewhere off the Coast of Belize
Professor Emilio Ramirez wondered if there would come a day when he wouldn’t be covered in blood and parasites as he donned a new pair of clothes after exiting the decontamination unit on the lower level. He was desperate for the sight of the sea after the grueling necropsy of another alpha, and he trotted up the steel steps past other crew members, even ignoring the pleasant aroma emanating from the galley.
He wove past several nurses, the master-at-arms, and the ship’s chaplain as he made his way up to the next level, which led to the rear deck. Bursting through the hatch opening, Ramirez felt the rush of humidity and sunlight upon his face, and he sucked in a deep breath, making his way to the railing that overlooked the helicopter landing pad.
He looked at the two young mechanics below as they worked on the engine parts spread on a canvas tarp, then up at the coastline of Belize in the distance. He remembered vacationing on one of the small islands with his lovely wife and daughters as if it were yesterday, but then he remembered it was in another lifetime—and another world—before the monsters came. Ramirez could still hear their screams on the phone during the second day of the pandemic, when his wife Julia had called him at his veterinary clinic at the university in Caracas. It was the last time he would hear her voice and those of his pleading children, who were trapped in their townhouse as the city experienced the first wave of attacks from the recently infected.
Why did I live? Why couldn’t it be me instead? He wiped the sweat off his brow, knowing deep down the answer to the question that had wracked his mind with nightmares for many months. His reason for living—his purpose for surviving all this time—lay on a steel gurney in the biohazard lab below. Ramirez stroked the gold crucifix hanging around his neck. Julia had given it to him on their first anniversary. Though he considered himself a man of science, he also embraced some of the Catholic traditions of his parents, often precariously balancing the worlds of reason and faith. However, with today’s research findings, he was now certain why he had been prevented from joining his wife and children on that tragic day.
He heard familiar footsteps behind him and turned to see the captain moving up alongside him. The man still kept his royal blue navy uniform ironed, and Ramirez knew that everyone had some daily ritual that enabled them to remain civilized.
“Good afternoon, Captain Otero. What brings you out from your perch?”
Otero rested his meaty hands on the railing, scrutinizing the mechanics below, who had just increased their work tempo upon seeing him. “It’s almost evening, doc—you really need to get out more.”
Ramirez looked at the low position of the sun along the horizon, realizing he last saw the orb when it was first emerging on the other side of the ship. “Been a long day but one that will make all of the others in my lab worth it.” He tightened his spindly fingers into a fist then relaxed them, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a red flash drive encased in a protective plastic sheath. “I’ve isolated the pathogen that appears to be afflicting the alphas, at least down here in the jungle along the coastline.”
Otero lowered his head, his eyes darting around the ground. “Are you sure? Was it the virus you told me about last week?”
Ramirez let out a grin followed by a slow nod. “Absolutely—this is the weapon that can change the battle: the alpha solution. I’ve already sent word to my colleagues in the American fleet and to Europe, but I won’t have the complete results for another day. After that, I will need access to a much larger facility than what we have here to complete the work.” He spied a flock of birds aloft over the ocean. “Then nature will have to do the rest over the coming months.”
Otero patted the man on the shoulder, leaning in closer. “The Americans should be able to help, according to what their General Dorr has told me. We will rendezvous with them in the Gulf in three days.” The captain kept his hand on Ramirez’s while his smile grew. “These many weeks of isolation in your little cave below have paid off, amigo. We should celebrate—the entire crew—at dinner tonight.”
“I don’t think we have enough tequila for all two hundred and ten personnel—are you expecting me to only have one drink?” chuckled Ramirez.
“Oh, I have some extra contraband stowed away, my friend.”
Otero heard the speaker mounted on the wall behind them crackle with the voice of his XO. “There is a small vessel approaching off the starboard bow. A tugboat.”
Otero narrowed his eyes, his smile fading slightly. He walked to the speaker, removing the microphone. “Is this from one of the flotillas of small boats we were supposed to meet up with tomorrow in the Caribbean?”
“No, sir, this vessel came from the direction of the mainland. There only appears to be one person on board. A young man who said he just fled the city.”
Otero shot a surprised look at Ramirez, who only shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll be up to the bridge in thirty seconds.” He replaced the microphone on the wall and gave a two-fingered salute to the professor. “Dinner in one hour—when we will toast your brilliance.”
He watched the captain enter the corridor and disappear then returned his gaze to the ocean. A flock of cormorants flew east then maneuvered towards a group of islands. You will be our salvation, he thought, staring at the black birds.
Ramirez looked below for the two mechanics, wondering why they had left the generator running. He heard the speaker behind him as the panicked voice of the second-in-command filled the air. “This is your XO—we are under attack. Secure all critical compartments and shut down the…” He heard a brief scream followed by the sound of animalistic grunts as the airwaves went silent.
Ramirez tried to swallow as a vein bulged in his forehead. He spun around, seeing three alphas bounding across the back deck after some nurses, who were quickly tackled and decapitated. “Madre de Dios.”
He ran for the rear hatch that led to the bridge. Must help Otero and the others—God, what’s happening?
Ten feet inside, he ran into Leon, the master-at-arms, who was sprinting through the corridor with his AR. Two more guards followed behind him as the distant rooms resounded with horrific shrieks. “My orders are to secure you below or get you the hell off the ship,” said Leon, who only paused long enough to grab Ramirez by the arm and redirect him towards the rear deck.
“But the captain, he—”
“Captain’s dead,” said Leon in a robotic voice, though his eyes revealed terror as he pointed to a bloody figure lying at the other end of the corridor. “Must be twenty alphas on board—they came out of the water, probably from that tugboat.”
Ramirez kept glancing back over his shoulder as they ran, hoping Leon was wrong and that the indomitable captain would come sprinting through the corridor with a trail of bodies behind him. He felt bile rushing up in his throat and wanted to vomit.
Reaching the rear deck, Leon swept the area with his rifle then motioned for the others to exit. Ramirez followed on his heels as they made their way along the bulwarks, arriving at midship next to the life rafts that were suspended with ropes above the water. Leon motioned for the two men to begin lowering one of the rubber rafts amidst the sound of screams coming from inside the galley below. The blond guard closest to Ramirez was named Raul and bunked in the berth across from his. The young man’s eyes resembled those of someone riding a motorcycle down a slick mountain road.
Ramirez thought of his staff, the nurses he’d worked with for months, and Captain Otero. Are we the only ones who will survive? He chided himself for thinking too far ahead, knowing they still had to make it off the boat. He watched the men lowering the raft in what felt like slow motion, then he peered out to the horizon, searching for a land mass. Once the raft was in the water, the first guard motioned for Ramirez to climb over the railing and descend.
They heard a shrill sound fill the air, followed by the sight of a sinewy alpha bounding like a leopard along the walkway. Leon spun around and steadied his rifle at the approaching beast but soon realized it was a ruse as another alpha rushed from a side exit six feet away, slamming into the slender man’s chest. Both of them were hurled over the railing, striking Ramirez in the shoulder and sending him into a freefall into the water.
Ramirez landed sideways, feeling the sting of the ocean’s surface like he’d landed on a thin mat. The awkward fall prevented a deep descent, and he quickly swam to the surface to see Leon being mauled by the alpha as it tore into his face with its sharp nails. Ram irez felt like his heart was going to explode as adrenaline rushed through his body. His lungs burned, and he forced his legs to move, swimming to the raft and hauling himself up over the side.
“Get out of here,” yelled Raul from the deck as both guards shot wildly at the encroaching cluster of alphas darting in from the bow.
Ramirez swung around, examining the small outboard motor but unsure how to start it. Bending forward to pull on the ripcord, he saw the alpha burst up from the water and grab his arm. He yanked it away, falling back in the raft as the creature sprung over the side. It stood over him, slashing its hand across his stomach. He felt a sickening tear, like the fibers of a rag being shredded in half, then saw his blood leaking out. The creature bellowed, then bone fragments blew out the side of its skull and it staggered to the left, tumbling into the ocean as shots came from above. Raul tossed down his depleted rifle and jumped from the ship, landing a few feet from the raft.
Ramirez struggled to sit up, pressing his palm against his sliced midsection, the fileted muscles of his upper abs hanging out. He saw Raul emerge from the waves then slither inside the raft and rush towards the engine. The lanky guard yanked on the ripcord. The engine spurted and coughed out black smoke before starting. Raul throttled it up and grabbed the tiller handle, maneuvering the raft in a swift arc away from the navy ship.
Ramirez was tossed against the rubberized sides, his midsection searing as he tried to stay low. He watched the alphas on the ship racing along the walkway in search of his shipmates like termites swarming over a rotting log. He glanced at the rear deck, where he had stood only minutes ago with Otero, talking about toasting his breakthrough and the promise of what was to come. How could it come to this? He felt for the flash drive again in his pants pocket, wondering if his discovery would die with him.
Chapter 1
Sixteen Hours Later
CIA Agency Vessel Lachesis
Eighteen Nautical Miles West of Florida
Reisner bolted to an upright position, flinging the sweat-soaked bedsheet aside as his mind raced over the images of a recent attack. His mind clung to the ghastly images of the desperate expressions of civilians fleeing from their hideout in the forest as a legion of paras swarmed in around them. He had heard the screams and carnage that ensued as if he was standing on the periphery of the battlefield. Reisner recalled the image of a rugged cliff to his right that was draped in thick vegetation, in the middle of which was a thumb-shaped butte. Standing on top of the butte was a lone alpha commanding his parasite-riddled troops below. Miles to the north were the remains of a small village centered around the white steeple of an old church. Then the visions had abruptly stopped, only to be replaced by the sight of a frigate that was afloat a half-mile from the Lachesis—the same vessel his sister Jody resided on along with hundreds of other civilians.
Reisner forced away the hazy images and dragged the bedsheet across his sweaty forehead. He heard Selene sigh and then felt her hand resting on his shoulder.
“Another bad dream?” she said, leaning her head against his arm.
He nodded, taking a deep breath and staring at the sliver of dawn piercing through the ship’s porthole to his right. He wanted to dive through the opening into the ocean below and disappear from the horrific world that had been created by the virus. Reisner still felt the stabbing anguish from losing Nash ten days ago, and most mornings he found himself prying his weary body from the bed he shared with Selene. He tried to take comfort in her presence, but his soul had been reduced to a rubble-strewn battlefield, and Reisner felt there was little difference between the grisly realities of the world and his tormented dreams. Where sleep had once been a refuge, now it had become its own purgatory.
He forced his legs off the edge of the mattress then stood and trudged to the small bathroom. As he closed the door, the automatic light inside flickered on. He turned on the sink faucet and began splashing handfuls of cold water onto his face. Wiping a towel across his cheeks, he glanced down at the pink scars on his right forearm. Though it had been less than two weeks since he had sustained wounds from the parasitic infection during his battle with Roland, he still felt like there was movement threading through the muscles in his forearm, followed by the fleeting memory of a sensation that his mind was expanding into another realm outside of himself, like he was freefalling without a parachute into an inky abyss filled with millions of other voices.
Reisner gently stroked the pink striations on his forearm, still shuddering from his nightmare as he looked into the mirror. Is this all there is to do—hide out on these ships until the next mission, and the next one after that, as more of our team gets picked apart with each battle?
He heard Selene getting dressed and knew they both had to be down in the briefing room with Runa for a morning video conference with General Dorr. Reisner leaned over and removed the small daypack from the floor. He opened the front pocket and pulled out two pill bottles that he had taken from the ship’s pharmacy earlier in the week. He stared at the Ambien tablets in one and the Dexedrine in the other bottle, thinking about how he had always despised field agents who relied on such crutches to get them through the day. He removed the Dexedrine bottle and unscrewed the cap, tapping its side until a single yellow pill landed in his furrowed palm.
“Hey, can I get in there?” said Selene’s voice. “We need to be out of here in five minutes.”
Reisner shoved the pill back into the bottle and hastily screwed on the lid as if he was containing an escaped wasp. “Yeah, hang on, I’ll be out in a second.” He looked at his haggard face in the mirror again while tapping his fist on the edge of the sink. Remember, there are others counting on you still. They need you—this world still needs you. He uttered the words silently a few more times until he convinced himself it was true.
***
At the morning briefing in the small conference room on the second level, he sat across from Selene. They did this at all of their meetings. She had previously requested it, saying that seeing his eyes had a calming effect on her, but now he felt himself avoiding her gaze as he kept his body squarely facing the videoscreen at the front of the room.
Reisner barely noticed the three other personnel present and gave a perfunctory nod as Runa, Sergeant Major Martinez, and Andre Pacelle entered the room. He wondered why Ivins and his team, which temporarily included Porter and Connelly until Reisner was medically cleared to lead again, weren’t present, but he figured this meeting would reveal their whereabouts, and it probably didn’t involve R&R.
The videoscreen illuminated right on time at 0730, with Dorr’s hulking figure filling most of the frame. The general’s eyes scanned the faces of the attending personnel, then he cleared his throat and tapped on his laptop, pulling up a map of the western U.S. His dour expression and taut cheeks reminded Reisner of a waxed figure he’d seen on the Vegas strip years ago. Dorr didn’t bother with pleasantries and just leapt into his discussion.
“At 1634 yesterday, our intel staff picked up a distress call from a Venezuelan navy hospital ship, Paloma, in the Caribbean, off the coast of Belize. From what we could gather, the crew was under attack by two-dozen alphas that boarded the vessel just after sundown.” Dorr paused, his heavy breathing evident over the speakers.
Selene leaned forward, interlocking her fingers. “The head clinician on board that vessel is Professor Emilio Ramirez—he’s a zoologist who was working on research specific to alpha morphology. He had considerable insight into the alpha’s physiology and had just uncovered a naturally occurring pathogen that could potentially be used for exploiting their weaknesses, from what I last heard when I spoke to our small coalition of scientists spread around the globe yesterday.”
The screen flashed back to Dorr’s stolid face. “Doctor Munroe is correct. Ramirez was on board the Paloma.”
“What do you mean, ‘was’?” Selene said, her eyes widening.
Dorr’s voice lowered. “Better if you see for yourself.” He clicked the screen over towards satellite imagery of the derelict ship.
“The paras must have been waiting by one of the ports to launch an assault like this,” said Martinez.
