The Last Peak (Book 2): The Darwin Collapse (37 page)

The deltas below were in an absolute frenzy. Their primitive minds bewildered by having cornered prey somehow escape. They crowded in around the open bay. One was pushed by those behind and tumbled down into the workshop.
 

Mason turned to the west and watched the setting sun dipping into the ocean. The deep blue cut a sharp line into the pale orange sky. High above, pink clouds reflected the waning light of the half disc still above the horizon.

The view was stunning.

One of those sunsets tourists wrote home about. One of those sunsets that made you remember why you paid so much to live on the west side.

Mason stared in awed silence.
 

A gust of wind pushed him out over the canal before PAT automatically adjusted. The movement broke the spell. As beautiful as it was, it was nothing without his family.

He rotated the navigation joystick to the left and PAT deftly yawed left. It spun around in place and the city of Los Angeles came into view. Hundreds of fires burned throughout. Their inky trails of smoke lifted and curled and dissipated into the sky above.

He yawed further and downtown came into view. There, reaching higher than all the others, was his destination.
 

Milagro Tower.

Assuming he could actually fly there.

He kicked up the throttle while easing the navigation joystick forward. PAT tilted forward and slowly picked up speed. The roar of the twin turbines drowned out the enraged deltas below. He slid over the landscape, adding more power to gain altitude while moving forward.

Mason had never been a pilot in the military. The closest he'd ever gotten to flying a plane was in a computer game. He tilted the nav joystick left and felt the machine respond. He tilted it right and got back on course. He eased forward on both joysticks and PAT tilted forward, picking up speed while maintaining altitude. It was kind of like a computer game, only a mistake would kill you instead of starting over at the last waypoint.

Now a couple hundred feet in the air, he shot toward downtown like an arrow at the target. The endless veins of unmoving cars below accentuated the sense of freedom the machine engendered. It truly was a genius invention. Part creative. Part engineering. All awesome. This was the future mankind had been dreaming about for decades. The actual arrival of the fabled flying cars that everyone had always said was right around the corner, but never was.

This was the reality that would never arrive.

Mankind had turned down a dark alley and there were no more corners ahead holding the promise of a brighter future.

Beth stepped into the small room. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Clyde chittered in agitation.

A box framework of metal poles surrounded Jack’s six and a half foot frame. Restraints bound the ape to the poles at the ankles, knees, wrists, and elbows. Poles encircled his waist and chest, leaving no room to move. Two plates of metal came together around his neck. The plates had been raised so that his neck was stretched tight. A half-sphere of tightened screws surrounded and pinned his head in place.
 

A truss work of torture.
 

IV lines trailed out of his body in several places. Red fluid coursed through the tubes. Beth didn’t know the details, but clearly his blood had something to do with the cure.
 

That’s why Anton wanted all the Bili chimps. He was harvesting them for the serum.
 

Jack blinked and hooted. He jerked against the restraints but they held him fast.

Disgust, pity, and rage filled Beth’s heart.

Jack had never liked her. He’d even tried to kill her. Worse, he’d played a part in Jane’s death. That said, he didn’t deserve such torture, such cruelty. And Beth wasn’t the type to sit by while an animal suffered.

Clyde climbed down and ran over to his father. They’d never met after the birth, but the little chimp seemed to sense the connection. He scrambled up the bars and sat on the plate stretching Jack’s neck. He chittered and hooted, stroking his father’s face.

Jack licked him and softly hooted in return. They knew the truth about each other. Beth saw it clear as day. Anyone would have.

She set about unbuckling the restraints, unscrewing the poles and screws, and pulling out the IV needles. He held still, seemingly understanding that she was trying to help. She got the last arm free and stepped back.
 

Jack stepped out of the hideous box framework with Clyde in his arms. He held the little chimp at arm’s length turning him over and over examining every square inch.
 

Hanging upside down, Clyde screeched his discomfort and Jack quickly flipped him right side up.

A terrible and familiar shriek seized their attention. Another answered it and many more joined in the chorus.

Deltas in pursuit of prey.

The noise wasn’t necessarily close, but it wasn’t far away either.

It was time to go.
 

Beth tentatively reached for Jack’s hand. Part of her mind screamed to run away. This ape was far larger, stronger, and faster than she was. And he had already tried to kill her once.

Was she crazy?

Her fingers slipped into his hand. He trembled at her touch, but made no aggressive moves.

“Jack, we have to leave,” she said hoping the tone of her voice would convey as much as the words. “Those things are dangerous. We can’t let them catch us.”

He stared at her while Clyde chewed on his chin.
 

“We have to keep the baby safe,” she said.

She gingerly pulled his hand and he followed. They walked hand in hand into the larger Immunology lab and Jack spotted the display cases filled with his dead and preserved family.
 

He dropped Beth’s hand and dashed directly to the cylinder holding Jane. He tapped the glass but she, of course, didn’t respond. He moaned softly while trying to touch her fingers through the thick glass. He turned Clyde around and held him up to the glass.

Beth walked over and softly touched the glass. She’d raised Jane from an infant. The Bili chimp was as much a daughter as Theresa. “I’m so sorry,” she said as a tear slid down her cheek. “I didn’t know. I swear.”

Jack turned to Beth and tilted his head. He curled a thick, black finger and scooped the tear from her cheek.
 

The shrieking deltas echoed through again.

“Follow me!” Beth said. She hurried back to Theresa in the wheelchair and led them out of the room and began tracing her way back to the main entrance of the basement laboratory.

The echoes of the deltas seemed to be getting louder and closer, but their luck held and they didn’t run into any as they went.

Luck could be a fickle mistress.

Beth swiped them through the final glass door and saw no sign of Iridia or the knocked-out guard. That wasn’t a good sign.

She hurried to the elevators thinking that maybe, just maybe, they were going to make it.

And that’s when their luck changed.

Several deltas rounded a corner and stopped in their tracks some twenty feet away. They howled and shrieked but didn't come closer.
 

Jack jumped to the front and roared, beating his chest with one hand while holding Clyde in the other.

The deltas melted back, clearly aware of the alpha in their presence. Clearly aware of the damage he could do.

Beth smacked the elevator button and looked up at the digital display above the door.
 

73

It slowly began ticking down. It had a long way to go to get to the basement.

Come on.
 

Come on!

More deltas began arriving behind the first few. Their numbers began to swell.
 

Beth checked the elevator’s progress.

48

 
As more piled in behind the first few, the group grew more aggressive. They crept closer, growling and swiping the air at Jack. Testing his resolve to defy their superior numbers.

Jack brought Clyde to his face and touched their foreheads together. Their eyes blinked in unison. He turned and passed his son to Beth. Clyde climbed up and settled around Beth’s neck. Jack extended a finger and touched Clyde’s chin.
 

He then turned back to the deltas. He opened his mouth wide revealing huge canine teeth. Four sharp daggers. Each several inches long. He roared and leaped ten feet through the air crashing into the mass of bodies.

His teeth sliced through flesh. His hands and feet tore limbs from bodies. He snapped through bones like toothpicks. The first few fell like wheat to the scythe. But there were too many.

The elevator dinged and opened.

Beth swiped the card.
 

As the doors closed, Jack disappeared under a blanket of bodies clawing and tearing at him.

Beth wanted to scream. She wanted to hurt something. Or someone. Someone in particular.

Anton Reshenko.

A darkness in her heart longed to kill the man that had caused so much suffering to so many.

November 2004

Fallujah, Iraq

MASON
limped along with Miro’s help. They did their best to move from cover to cover. A pile of rubble here. The burned out entryway of a building there. Every move through open space filled with tension, waiting for the first bullet to snap by. The one that would signal the start of the ambush. The ambush that would undoubtedly end their escape.

They didn’t have to wait long.

They’d made it a block and a half south from where the IED had taken out Ramirez and the humvee. He was beginning to think maybe, just maybe, they’d get down to Phase Line Fran without running into further contact.

Yeah, right.

The first bullet pinged off the pavement inches from Mason’s right foot. A tiny cloud of dust poofed up. The first round didn’t come to the dance alone. Gunfire echoed down the narrow street as multiple assailants hidden in windows fired on them.
 

Mason sprinted for the nearest doorway. It was dark inside and he had no idea if he might be running right into a nest of bad guys. But in this case, the unknown was better than the known because the known was them getting their asses shot off.

He flew through the doorway as bullets pinged the face of the building. They entered a dark hallway of what appeared to be an apartment building. Closed doors lined the hall on the both sides. Night had descended on the city outside and the unlit interior offered even less visibility. Exactly the right situation for NVGs. Thank Uncle Sam for technology.
 

He dropped the goggles over his eyes and powered them on. Tried to power them on. No luck.

Damn.

“Miro,” he whispered, “try your NVGs. Mine are dead.”

“Already did. Same here.”

“Wonderful.”

Miro tapped his shoulder to let Mason know he was ready to move. “Unflappable optimism. That’s what I’ve always liked about you, Sarge.”

“That’s me,” Mason said as he flicked on the Surefire flashlight attached to his rifle. Two narrow beams of light pierced the length of the corridor. They moved down the hall as fast as they could, waiting for a door to open and an AK to unload on them.
 

He tried not to think about how exposed they were. How stranded and outnumbered. Thinking about things too much in a life or death situation wasn’t always an advantage. The clarity could paralyze you.
 

They got to the end and found a back door that exited to an alley. Mason chose left, hoping to continue south toward their intended destination. Gunfire echoed through the alley. From where exactly was impossible to tell.

The alley curved to the right and came to an intersection. Mason knelt at the corner and caught his breath. Tried to, at least.

More gunfire echoed down the alley. This time louder, closer.

“Move out!” Mason whispered. They dashed across the tight intersection and into the alley on the far side just as tracer rounds zipped behind their heads. A torrent of fire ripped through the intersection.
 

“Almawt la’amrika!”

“Sa’aqtalk!”

Numerous voices shouted threats and promises from around the corner. The volume of voices and volume of fire indicated a large enemy force. A dozen or more men. Not the kind of odds Mason wanted to face in their current condition.

They followed the alley curving to the left, skipping the first couple of doors they passed. They entered the third one and plunged into darkness. The voices of their pursuers grew louder. Mason tried a closed door on the right and found it unlocked. He and Miro spilled through it and came face to face with a middle-aged bearded man holding a child in his arms.

The child appeared to be a year old or so. A beautiful little girl with large, dark eyes. She reminded Mason of his own daughter back home. Not that they looked much alike. It was just the age. The innocence. Theresa was now four-years-old but she still retained some of the round features of her younger self. The girl stared at Mason with a curiosity that only a child could have in that situation.

The man turned to shield the baby with his body. “Please, no hurt,” he said over and over in heavily accented, broken English.

“Quiet!” Mason whisper-shouted as he locked the door.

“No hurt! Please!” the man continued on babbling in terror.

Mason closed the door and took up a position beside it. “Shut him up!”

Miro marched over and cupped a large hand over the smaller man’s mouth. “Shhh!”
 

The muffled words stopped.
 

“Sit,” Miro said in his ear as he grabbed the man’s shoulder and shoved him down onto a couch covered with a wild assortment of cushions.

“I do. No hurt!”

Miro grabbed his mouth again. “Quiet.”

The man finally got the message and stopped talking. He hugged the little girl to his chest.

Mason watched him to make sure he wasn’t going to pull a gun or start yakking again. Instead, the man glanced nervously at a doorway to his left. Mason flashed his light in that direction and saw a sink and five gallon water bottles in the next room. The kitchen.