Then he froze.
Timothy swung his rifle around at the sound of rustling.
A shadow moved beyond a pile of rubble.
Recon Sigma advanced toward the chunks of concrete and pipes where Wong had spotted the movement. Ruckley signaled for Boyd and Wong to take one side as she and Timothy took another to flank their target.
As soon as Timothy crept past the broken concrete, a shrill cry erupted.
A creature with wormy lips shot toward him, claws outstretched. He squeezed his trigger, sending a burst of rounds toward the monster. The shots missed, sparking into the concrete.
Jaw snapping, the beast slammed into Timothy’s chest, catching his body armor. He fell backward, losing his grip on his rifle. His helmet smacked against the sidewalk, and his NVGs were knocked aside as the creature’s mouth snapped for his face.
His hand caught the monster under its wrinkled neck, and he pushed up, muscles straining. Saliva sprayed over his face as the creature’s teeth gnashed together. Gunfire cracked around him as the team took on a pack of the beasts.
He kept one hand on the neck of the Variant and reached toward his holster. Then he swung a fist hard into the face of the monster, connecting with a sickening crack. That did the trick. The creature reared back, and he reached back down and grabbed his father’s pistol—the one Beckham had returned to him from Portland.
One trigger pull put a bullet through the enraged Variant’s open mouth. A second took off half the jaw. The monster slumped over his chest.
He shoved it off, recovered his rifle, then put his NVGs back in place. Rushing over to Ruckley, he helped her finish off another starving beast. Then they turned their sights on the monsters after Boyd and Wong.
She pulled out her knife and stabbed the creature pinning Boyd down. Timothy sprinted to help Wong who was being slammed against the ground by a juvenile.
He strained to hold off the attacks, parrying with his rifle. Claws clanged against the weapon.
“Hold still, dammit,” Timothy whispered. He had to aim for a weak spot where its arm met its shoulder. Rounds lanced into the flesh, forcing it to turn. He put a burst into its face. The monster collapsed, letting out a long wheeze, and went still.
Timothy reached down and helped Wong up.
“Thanks,” Wong said.
“They know we’re here now,” Ruckley said in a low voice. “Back into combat intervals.”
Other gunshots far to their south sounded into the night as they spread out. Maybe TF Bravo squads, but no one in TF Alpha.
Timothy managed his breathing, his heart rate slowly returning to around normal. He made a goal of having it lower when they reached their first objective, the Stratosphere. More teams would rendezvous here as they prepared to take Vegas’ main strip.
The team closed in a quick clip, moving fast. Timothy prayed the gunfire had gone unnoticed by the other monsters in the area, but he knew that was wishful thinking.
He scoped the Stratosphere as they approached.
Timothy saw something that looked out of place, like a gargoyle. At first, it was hard to tell if it was his mind playing tricks on him through the spotty NVGS.
He gestured for Ruckley’s attention, then pointed up at the roof.
He flipped up his NVGs and used his scope to zoom in on a shape, twisted and malformed, like a Chimera or Variant, silhouetted against the stars.
It suddenly cranked back its head and let out a blood-curdling shriek.
Ruckley signaled for the team to find cover, but Timothy froze. The rest of the team ducked behind the rubble of a bombed-out restaurant, but he couldn’t take his eyes of the rooftops.
Another creature appeared, howling. Then a third and a fourth. Soon they stood in lines like an army of screeching statues, their cries forming an unholy chorus.
They were coming from behind too, and Timothy slowly turned at a view that took his breath. Every rooftop along his sightlines was covered by the twisted silhouettes of monsters.
— 11 —
Fitz led Teams Ghost and Spearhead along with Corrin out from the belly of the DHC-5 Buffalo they had taken from Calgary. A lone Black Hawk was parked in the desert. Command had said the bird would be waiting for them. Beyond it, a good ten miles away, he saw tiny pinpricks of light pierce the black of night.
“They know we’re here,” Ace said. “We have to hurry.”
Fitz picked up his pace. Getting to Vegas wasn’t the only thing on his mind.
As he neared the chopper, the side door open. A shorter figure stepped out.
“Fitzie!” Rico called out.
Fitz ran over to her and wrapped her in his arms, savoring the feeling of relief that her embrace brought. While they were only apart for less than a week, it felt like a year with everything that had happened.
“It’s so damn good to see you,” he said, pulling away slightly.
“You, too,” she said, leaning in for a quick kiss.
“Come on, guys, you’re going to make me sick,” Ace said.
Dohi cracked a half grin.
Fitz wished he had some alone time with her, even just five minutes. The look in Rico’s eyes told him she must be thinking the same thing. That brief embrace was not enough.
But professionalism and the seriousness of this mission nixed that opportunity.
“Let’s load up,” Fitz said.
A crew chief passed headsets to Ghost and Spearhead. The reverberations of the Black Hawk’s engines shook into Fitz’s core as they took off, headed straight for downtown. Rico popped a piece of gum into her mouth.
As she chewed, she narrowed her eyes on Corrin. “So that’s the Chimera? You sure we can trust him or it, or whatever you’re calling this thing.”
“Him,” Ace said. “And yes, he saved our asses more than once.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” she said.
“He’s an asset,” Fitz said.
Daugherty took a seat next to Ace. “He’s also the reason Banff got attacked.”
Rico shot Fitz
