“You got us up for that?” Horn asked. “Can’t they handle some—”
“There are Chimeras in the area, too,” Rico said.
Beckham cursed under his breath. He had thought they might have a few more days to prepare the outpost for a potential attack. But hearing the beasts had come all the way down here to Houston dashed those hopes.
“Ruckley’s team tracked them to an encampment,” Rico said.
“So we’re rolling in and carpet bombing them, right?” Horn asked. He rubbed his big hands together. “That’s worth getting up before the ass crack of dawn.”
“No, command wants one of them alive,” Rico said.
“Jesus, command’s never going to learn,” Horn said.
Rico ignored him. “Since we have so much experience in the field, Jacobs wanted you to lead tonight’s snatch-and-grab.”
“You got a map of the area?”
Rico passed one back to Beckham. She leaned over her seat, circling the neighborhood where Ruckley had last reported their location and the Chimera encampment.
“Tell Ruckley to maintain her position,” Beckham said. “The four of us in this Humvee are Reaper. Humvee two, Bravo. Three, Charlie.” He laid out on the map where he wanted each Humvee to park and how they would approach the encampment to give each team clear firing lanes while surrounding the Chimeras.
Rico relayed it over the radio.
After another fifteen minutes of driving they pulled off the highway and wound through roads littered with abandoned cars. The other two Humvees peeled off down separate roads. They killed their headlights, and Lindquist pulled down his night vision goggles, slowing so the engine noise didn’t give away their position.
When they finally parked behind a two-story house for cover, Beckham got out first, stepping out onto the pavement with his prosthetic blade. He dropped low immediately, signaling for Horn to take rearguard. Rico and Lindquist took the flanks, and together they prowled through the overgrown grass like sharks after prey.
They followed a creek, staying close to the grass for cover. According to the map, the waterway would take them straight to the camp.
If they had timed everything right, they would converge there the same time Bravo and Charlie did. Then with the help of Recon Sigma, they would ambush the Variants and Chimeras.
As they approached the target, Beckham paused. A park with a rusted playground and several picnic shelters protruded from the unkempt weeds. At one of those shelters, he noticed three Chimeras talking and sharing food.
Even from his vantage behind a thicket of trees and bushes, Beckham could hear the tearing of flesh and meat. He counted another four Variants circling eagerly around the Chimeras, waiting for a morsel.
Where were their lookouts? He didn’t see any scouts or guards.
The Chimeras were smarter than this.
Rico knelt beside him, with Horn and Lindquist watching their backs. Across the park, in another backyard lined with trees, Beckham noticed four infrared tags in his NVGs. That was Bravo. To the east, he could see the IR tags glowing from Recon Sigma’s NVGs from their position near an abandoned RV.
He didn’t know which one, but one of those tags represented Timothy. He knew the young man would be fighting Variants again, but the thought of him facing even the deadlier Chimeras filled Beckham with dread.
Toward the west, he studied the lines of trees next to a pond. That was where Charlie was supposed to be. But no IR tags glowed.
Maybe the team was just slower or ran into some unexpected obstacles. But the fact that a Chimera and two Variants were missing, too, was not a good sign.
Beckham considered breaking radio silence to get a sitrep, but making any noise now, so close to the enemy, could ruin their cover.
Each second without seeing Charlie passed as its own agonizing eternity. The other team had to be out there. No one had called for assistance or reported any issues. He hadn’t heard any gunshots either.
Another two minutes passed.
Horn suddenly pointed as two Chimeras appeared from between a couple houses. Each lugged a body over their shoulders. A pack of Variants followed on all fours, snapping and snarling at each other. Then came a second pair of the hybrid soldiers with two more human prisoners.
Beckham took his binoculars from his tac vest and pulled them up to his eyes, zooming in for a better look, confirming his worst fears.
“Son of a bitch, that’s Charlie team,” he said quietly.
The Chimeras carrying the dead soldiers dumped them on the ground and the Variants dove in for the feed. The two surviving Charlie soldiers squirmed to get away. One thrashed himself free from the grip of a Chimera, only to have his throat slashed.
The Thrall Variants surrounding the shelter dove into the fresh corpses, teeth and claws ripping into the dying soldier.
“We have to do something,” Rico said.
The Chimeras tied up the last surviving soldier to a post of the shelter.
Horn wedged up next to Beckham with his M249 SAW, ready to let some lead fly. “Let me at ’em, boss.”
One Chimera stuck its nose into the air, freezing, bloody entrails still dripping from its mouth. It sniffed, then signaled to the other monsters. The starving Thralls even stopped feeding for a moment.
Beckham knew this was their only chance to save the final survivor of team Charlie and capture a Chimera, but it would put them all at risk. A long moment passed, the tension nearly palpable as his team looked at him for orders. He squeezed the call button on his radio. “All teams, go!”
Horn practically jumped up to fire, tracer rounds splitting the darkness. The beasts scattered in all directions.
Reaper pushed forward through the tall grass, disappearing into the foliage. Beckham looked for the telltale shifting of blades that would show where the other Variants were. He listened for the clicking joints or growls.
A deep boom shook the ground, halting Beckham. Horn stopped firing for a beat.
“That came from Bravo’s position,” he said.
Gunshots barked from across the park, followed by the pained howl of a Variant. Beckham pushed through the grass,
