The team continued through the street, prowling through the darkness. They found no animal carcasses or misshapen footprints in the mud or grass, nothing that would indicate any monsters had been here recently.
Wong took them down another boulevard into the second neighborhood they were assigned to clear. The once-picturesque street was lined with the arching branches of southern live oak trees.
A light tapping noise made Timothy halt.
Wong continued forward but Ruckley stopped.
“What?” she asked.
He listened but heard nothing.
Maybe he was just being paranoid.
Then he heard the tapping again.
He held up a fist.
Wong and Boyd stopped and crouched.
Timothy pointed to his ears, then started a hand signal when a shape burst from the grass, exploding toward them.
All four of them spun, but not fast enough.
Before Timothy could fully understand what had happened, Boyd was down on his back. On top of him was a skinny Variant with gray flesh and dilated vessels pulsating over its muscles.
Boyd swung his wrist up to block a snapping bite from the Variant, then let out a cry of pain as it ripped into his flesh.
Timothy rushed forward, letting his rifle fall on its sling. He could not risk taking a shot, and instead he took out his knife and threw his shoulder into the creature’s exposed ribs. It reared up, and he jabbed the knife deep into its guts.
The beast let out a pained squeal as Timothy dug the blade deeper, warm blood spilling over his hand. With a kick, he shoved the Variant off Boyd. It scrambled back on all fours, facing Timothy, grotesque face drawn in an aggressive snarl.
Timothy put himself between Boyd and the starving abomination. A suppressed shot burst through its forehead a moment later. Two more shots tore into its chest, and the monster crumpled.
Ruckley stepped beside Timothy, aiming her M9 down the street.
“Thanks, Temper,” Boyd said. He winced, holding his bleeding wrist.
“Quiet,” Ruckley said. “Might be more.”
Wong swiveled on his heels, rifle roving over the empty lawns. No other creatures howled or pounced from the tall grass. Timothy knelt next to the fallen monster to check out something around its neck. He reached down to find a black collar like the one the collaborators had used on their Thralls in Maine. Boyd and Wong appeared confused, but Ruckley knew exactly what the collar represented.
Somewhere to their south, they heard more rustling grass and another growl.
“Quick!” Ruckley whispered. “Get to cover!”
Wong helped Boyd up, and they sprinted the opposite direction, running straight for a house toward the end of the street. Timothy was the last one inside, his boots splashing over soggy, mildew-covered carpet. He followed the team upstairs where they spread out inside a bedroom with broken windows.
They each took a spot along the wall and Timothy snuck a glance out the window while Wong helped Boyd clean and bandage the bleeding wound from the Variant bite. The scent would draw the beasts if they didn’t hurry.
“Command, Recon Sigma One,” Ruckley whispered over the radio. “We have multiple contacts, standby for location.”
“Copy, Recon Sigma,” replied the operator. “What’s your location?”
Ruckley looked at Wong.
“Riverbend North, Nail’s Creek,” the Houston native whispered.
Ruckley relayed the answer.
Outside, the sound of gruff voices grew closer, along with another howl. Timothy went still, and Ruckley turned off the radio, silently observing the unfolding scene.
Another Variant ran to the dead one. It paused at the corpse, sniffing at the dead monster, then looked back over its shoulder, teeth bared. Cranking back its head, it let out a short howl.
Timothy expected to see collaborators emerge from the grass with a remote control like Nick and Pete had possessed at Mount Katahdin. Sure enough, three humanoid shapes walked out carrying rifles.
But these weren’t men.
The hybrid beasts had scything claws protruding from the ends of their fingers, and their faces were flat and scarred with golden eyes.
They were Chimeras.
Deadlier than normal Variants and collaborators. These were the infamous Scions of the New Gods, the ultimate combination of manmade science and Mother Nature’s evolution.
And now they were just outside Houston.
— 4 —
Beckham finally had a chance to grab some shuteye in the Outpost Houston apartment he and Kate were given when frantic knocking jolted him awake. A glance out the window showed it was still dark. Maybe three or four in the morning, if he had to guess.
Kate turned over in bed, planting her feet on the floor. “Wonder who it’s for this time.”
Together they wandered toward the front door and opened it. Outside was a big red-haired man with a shit-eating grin.
“Morning, boss,” Big Horn said with a yawn. “You’ll never guess what the cat dragged into Houston.”
“Guess it’s for me,” Beckham said. “You can go back to sleep, Kate. You need it.”
“I’m already awake. Might as well go to work.”
She disappeared back into the bedroom to change.
“What’s going on?” Beckham asked Horn.
“We found some enemy scouts.”
All the exhaustion and stupor of being woken up in the middle of the dark early morning hours disappeared in a blast of adrenaline. It took only a couple minutes for Beckham to slip on his ACUs, grab his rifle, and say goodbye to Kate. He followed Horn down the stairs from the apartment to the street where three Humvees waited.
Beckham hopped into the back of the lead vehicle with Horn, and they took off.
“Where are these scouts?” Beckham asked.
“I’ll let her explain,” Horn said, nodding to a soldier in the front seat.
Rico turned to look at him, a shock of pink hair poking out from below her helmet. “Good to see you, Captain. I’ve been up all night helping with security detail.”
Then she pointed at the driver, a man with sandy blond hair.
“This is Corporal Max Lindquist. He’ll be on Team Reaper for the rest of the morning. We’ve been organizing tonight’s scouting and security ops. Recon Sigma ran across some
