The Sixth Extinction: America (Omnibus Edition | Books 1 – 8) Read online

  Alex nodded and reached around and flicked the light switch. The room became visible.

  Terrance headed in.

  The room had beige carpet with dark-red curtains. There was a double bed with a large fake black leather headboard and sheets that matched the carpet, with a bed runner that matched the curtains. The rest of the furniture, bedside cabinets, bedside lamps, a table and chair, were tossed over into one corner.

  Terrance quickly checked the en suite bathroom.

  “Clear,” he announced.

  Once Terrance had ascertained the room was empty, he stationed himself at the door while Alex checked for anything of use.

  The strong wind that had picked up was blowing the rain against the window in sheets.

  It didn’t take long. There was no mini fridge, or packets of snacks. The room had already been ransacked. Someone had taken the Gideon bible out of the bedside cabinet and ripped up the pages and scattered them around the room. On one wall, which could have been written in excrement, which Alex didn’t want to examine too closely, was the words: Game Over. Alex ignored the wall and joined Terrance in the corridor.

  He realized if they were going to do this throughout the whole hotel it would take all night. However, they needed food, and due to the fact there were so many rooms increased the chance that whoever has already scavenged the place might have missed something.

  They had canned food and dried goods in packets, but it would only last so long, they needed to be constantly on the lookout for more. Once they reached the countryside they planned on hunting game and fishing, and they had some seeds to try to start a garden when it got warmer.

  They checked one room after another. First on the right side of the corridor, then the room opposite.

  In the eighth room, they found the window was smashed and someone had tossed the furniture out. The carpet was already moldy from where the rain had entered.

  In the twelfth room, Alex realized something was wrong when he pushed the door open. There was a putrid smell. It wasn’t a Popper; from what they’d heard Poppers emitted no smell, so as not to forewarn anyone nearby. They found a dead couple fully dressed on the bed. Their belongings was scattered around them, as if someone had gone through their things, but ignored the bodies. On the bedside cabinet were three empty bottles of pills and an empty bottle of vodka, and a baby bottle half-filled with rancid milk. The saddest thing was a collapsible crib pulled up close to the bed. In it, Alex could see two little naked decaying feet – the skin was already drying and pulling the little toes back as if in pain. The rest of the body was covered with a pillow. He wondered why the baby wasn’t between the parents?

  In the second to last room on the floor, they found the first room that had the door slightly ajar. They didn’t know why whoever had gone through the rooms had closed them all after, but they had. Maybe, they reasoned, so they would know which rooms they had already checked?

  “Stay back,” Terrance said in a whisper. He used the barrel to nudge the door open slowly. The curtains were pulled and the room was shrouded in darkness, and the light switch didn’t work. Terrance turned on the torch that was duct-taped to the side of the barrel.

  “SHIT, RUN!” he shouted as he turned and started running full pelt down the corridor.

  Alex quickly followed suit without waiting for an explanation.

  Inside the room, bloated on the carpet was a Popper, and the skeletal remains of a corpse beside it that it had consumed.

  As the two got thirty feet down the hallway, the bloated person exploded to the sound of shattering glass, it ripped the door off its hinges and billowed black spores out into the corridor along with raining blood, and chunks of bones that embedded in the opposite wall like bomb fragments.

  10

  Doctor Bachman

  Government Biosciences facility

  Groom Lake, Nevada

  Doctor Bachman returned to the main level with the two visitors. The Director wanted to talk with Callaway. Bachman was all too happy to point the way.

  Bachman returned to his own office. The room was deep underground and once the door was closed it became soundproof, to give him a quiet location to study his notes.

  It had been a long day. In fact, it had been a long three weeks.

  Who would have thought the end of the world would be so exhausting?

  The Director and General didn’t like the idea of the pod sending out unknown signals. Whatever it was doing; it can’t be good; they reasoned. They had rushed to Callaway’s office to discuss the implications, and they wanted to know why Callaway hadn’t announced the signal.

  Doctor Bachman turned his attention back to his computer. The Internet was still working for government officials and employees who needed it. He checked his emails. He was expecting another one from Doctor Melanie Lazaro. She worked in Exeter’s University Biosciences Department, and by all accounts, she was being held against her will by the army, along with other scientists in her department.

  Bachman hadn’t tried to leave the base in three weeks, since the outbreak started. He wondered if he had the choice anymore.

  They had been exchanging information for weeks; ever since the outbreak started. They swapped theories and data. Doctor Lazaro was the best in her field, and he was impressed with her work. It was her studies that completely cracked open the DNA markers and started them looking at it from a different angle.

  He checked his watch. It was just after six o’clock. It would only be about midday in England.

  With the new information, he had spent the morning completely rewriting what they knew about the infection. There were laboratories filled with people applying her new research. The speech he had given to the Director and General was based mainly on her findings. He sent a reply last night, but her server wasn’t picking his message up. He reasoned it was just a glitch and when the server was up and running again she would be able to open his message.

  He started typing another email, thanking her for the attached documents. He was so engrossed in his letter and concentrating on the keys that he didn’t hear Doctor Faith Lawrence, from his department, enter his office. She gently tapped him on the shoulder with a fragile looking finger.

  “Good god Faith, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “Sorry Doctor Bachman, but we have to hurry!”

  “Hurry? What do you mean Hurry, I don’t understand?”

  She turned to look at a device on the wall by the door. It was a small speaker for announcements and calling scientist to particular departments. Bachman had turned his off while he concentrated on his emails.

  “The Director has just finished talking on the phone with the President. It’s just been announced throughout the base. They believe the fact that the pods are no longer dormant, and are sending out some kind of signal, which they said could be controlling the infected for all they know, it is too much of a risk. The President has ordered the pod destroyed!”

  “Are you serious?” The Doctor jumped to his feet, which made his chair slide and hit the wall behind him. “That’s just madness!”

  “And not just ours, he has been in talks with the heads of each country a pod is located. The decision is unanimous; the pods are to be destroyed.” Faith is a thin, fragile looking thirty-six-year-old who wore her brown hair in a ponytail. She stood in her white lab coat, wringing her hands together, looking like she has just been told she has a terminal illness.

  “How is that even possible, some are under thousands of tonnes of stone?”

  “That’s true, and regular explosive devices can’t be trusted, in case some small part may survive and release another strain. That is why the American president has sanctioned the use of tactical nuclear warheads!”

  11

  Alexander, Terrance, and Cody

  Top floor of the Marriott Hotel

  New York City – Saddle Brook

  Alex was running as fast as his legs would carry him. The blast sent him falling against
the wall, but he soon regained his footing and continued.

  At the end of the corridor, Cody realized what was going on, and he stood holding the stairwells fire exit open, waiting for them.

  Terrance was fast for a big man, and to his credit, he was still clutching the shotgun.

  “Faster! The spores are right behind you!” Cody was shouting. They didn’t need any encouragement, and to his credit, Cody hadn’t left them behind.

  Rooms whipped past. Alex was sure the hallway wasn’t getting any shorter, like a movie where the corridor stretches to infinity. He couldn’t risk turning his head. The blast was propelling the spores down the hallway. He just hoped they could outrun them. As he got closer to the exit he held his breath.

  Terrance shot through first. Alex was close behind. Cody tried to slam the door shut, but it was on a safety arm. Even as he tried to push it, it ignored his protests and slowly started to swing shut.

  Alex released the baseball bat, so he could use both hands to grip the metal banister rail, to stop his momentum.

  Terrance didn’t get a chance; he flew down a flight of steps and hit the wall. He managed to turn his body and hit it with his shoulder. The shotgun clattered to the tiled floor.

  Alex’s bat hit the wall a foot away from Terrance’s face.

  Alex managed to stop himself and spun around. He watched Cody struggle with the thick door. Through the small glass window, Alex could see the spores dancing along the corridor’s ceiling, as if they were actively chasing them. In reality, he knew they were simply following the easiest course of non-resistance.

  “Get that door shut!” Alex hollered.

  The door, which seemed like it was moving unnecessarily slow, finally clicked into place, just as the black cloud filled the small window.

  “Jesus, that was close,” Cody said as he dropped to his knees. He checked the fire door was airtight. It was.

  Terrance was winded and leaning up against the wall. His shoulder was in pain. He was lucky it wasn’t dislocated with how hard he hit it.

  Terrance scooped up the shotgun and checked it for damage. He also picked up the bat and tossed it to Alex.

  “Screw this for a game of soldiers, there’s got to be an easier way,” Terrance announced. “let’s head back downstairs, to hell with checking the rest, this place has been picked clean. I’m not risking my life for the hopes of finding a mini fridge with a few chocolate bars in it.”

  Alex and Cody followed closely behind. They stopped. There were footsteps racing up the stairwell.

  Terrance knelt with the shotgun raised at head level to whatever was coming.

  Alex and Cody stayed back; weapons raised.

  Lindell came bounding up the stairs.

  “Jesus Bro, I almost shot you!”

  “Thank god you’re alright.”

  Troy and Jessica were close behind, breathing heavy from running up eleven stories.

  “We heard the explosion and thought the worst.” Sweat covered Lindell’s face and bald head.

  “It was a close call. We found a Popper in one of the last rooms on this floor.” Terrance stood and rubbed his shoulder.

  “Hurt your shoulder?” Jessica asked.

  “Just banged it running away.”

  “Screw this, let’s get back to the kitchen and secure it for the night. This place has been picked clean,” Lindell announced.

  No one was going to argue.

  Just as they started heading down the stairwell another sound caught their attention. There were footsteps echoing around them – lots of footsteps. Something was running up the stairs fast, heading towards the commotion. And whatever they were; they were making deep guttural, throaty growling sounds.

  “Shit,” Lindell announced. “We have incoming.”

  Terrance saw his brothers gaze flash to the small window on the fire door.

  “We can’t go back that way; the spores will get us.”

  “Then we have to try to reach the next floor down; it’s too cramped to fight in the stairwell,” he stated while raising his shotgun. They piled down the steps, trying to reach the open corridor of the level below before the hungry creatures reached them first.

  12

  Doctor Bachman

  Government Biosciences facility

  Groom Lake, Nevada

  “Please tell me you’re joking?” Bachman said.

  “I wish I was. We have been given two hours to collect everything of importance, and get it ready on the surface for transport. Planes are apparently en route as we speak.”

  “Only two hours? They can’t expect us to achieve everything in two hours?” Bachman was flustered. His mind ran over things of importance, which was pretty much everything.

  “As I said, soldiers are en route to help with the evacuation and moving the equipment.”

  “Where are they taking us?”

  “To Raven Rock Mountain.”

  “The nuclear NORAD bunker?” His mind was spinning. “That’s over six hundred miles away!” He was feeling faint.

  “They will also be delivering the nuclear device that will destroy the base.”

  “This is unbelievable.” Bachman gripped his forehead; he was getting a headache. Callaway was in command of the base, but Bachman was responsible for the laboratories.

  “Okay, okay, get a grip,” he muttered to himself. “Let’s start with packing up Lab 1 through 6, with the essentials in 7 through to 11. Including all samples.” He pinched his nose.

  “This is a logistic nightmare.” He spun around to check a wall chart that showed one single line encompassing the earth. He glanced at his watch then back to the chart.

  “Our satellite will be within range in forty-six minutes. Have all the base’s data uploaded the instant it’s within range.” He turned to look at Doctor Lawrence.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  She became all flustered. “Sorry, I will get right on it.” She shot out the door.

  “Jesus,” he whispered, “what a complete clusterfuck!”

  13

  Juan, Naomi, Phyllis, Tierra, Dante, and Bonnie

  Storeroom, ground floor of the Marriott Hotel

  New York City – Saddle Brook

  Juan stood guard by the back door, with his handgun held casually as he leaned against the wall. They had all heard the concussion boom from the main hotel. Juan wasn’t worried, he and his sister were out of harm’s way. That’s all that mattered to him, and as soon as they found somewhere relatively safe they would dump these losers and set out on their own. He took the clip out of the gun and reinserted it, and cocked it, ready. So long as he had a gun he was fine.

  He looked around. The windows were going dark. Night made everything seem worse.

  Tierra was settling Dante down. He had been crying all day and was exhausted. It was refreshing not to have to listen to his powerful lungs.

  If the kid survives, and grows up, he would be great playing the trumpet; his lungs will be strong enough.

  The Reverend and Abigail were searching the kitchen area for food. They also had to listen out for the doors, which were secured from their side, in case the group returned.

  Naomi was laid on her back, smoking, while listening to her iPod. She was asked by Abigail to help with the search for food. Naomi simply gave a lopsided smirk, lay back, and plugged her earbuds in. She kept sniffing and rubbing her nose.

  Phyllis sat against the wall in one corner, near the overhead light, knitting. She sat rocking back and forth, muttering to herself, knitting as if it was the most natural thing she could be doing.

  Bonnie was nesting against a wall, setting up their sleeping bags. She fussed with the zips.

  Suddenly, Juan jumped when something slammed into the door he was leaning against. He spun around and raised the gun.

  Another slam, with what sounded like a guttural groan. There was a commotion outside, as if a group were trying to climb the steps at the same time. A metal bin could be heard tipping over ou
tside with a clatter.

  Juan held the gun at arm’s length, pointed at the door that was wobbling on its hinges from the energy being exerted against it. There was only a normal door handle, and a catch that was locked, but it wouldn’t hold forever.

  Then the large pull down metal shutter loading bay door started being slammed into. Indents of figures bounced against it, as the sound of disturbing throaty moaning intensified.

  From the door, leading into the kitchen came a blood-curdling scream from Abigail that made Juan’s blood freeze.

  14

  Abigail and Reverend Clark

  The kitchen, ground floor of the Marriott Hotel

  New York City – Saddle Brook

  The kitchen was a massive industrial setup, created to supply hundreds of meals at once, for people filling the conference rooms. Everything was chrome and reflective, with rows of burners and numerous ovens. There were meters of chrome topped prep stations, and walls of knives and cleavers, and all of it was ransacked and toss around. It looked like a whirlwind had swept through.

  Pots and pans lay discarded on the floor. Piles of china plates lay in a smashed heap, with cutlery scattered everywhere. Doors were left open with the content’s spilling out.

  So far, every cupboard or drawer they looked in was empty of food.

  “Abigail, could you help me here please,” the Reverend asked as he tried to lift a wide metal cupboard that had tipped onto its side, resting up against a metal wall. He had a feeling it wasn’t just a wall, it had a groove around one section.

  Abigail moved to his side.

  “Together,” she said, as they both gripped the edge and tipped in over. It was heavy and hit with a resounding thud as it tumbled onto its back. Pots clattered from the vibration.

  “Do you think they are okay?” Abigail asked for the tenth time since the booming sound was heard resonating throughout the building.