The pilot pulled away, giving Beckham a perfect shot.
“Got ya, motherfucker,” he said, drawing himself up into a kneel and firing.
The rocket speared into the tail and sheared it off. The helicopter spun, tossing Chimeras out from the hold. Some survived the fall and tried to crawl away, but a Humvee swerved around a corner and slammed into them.
Ruckley gave a thumbs-up sign out the window.
“Reed!” a deep voice yelled.
Beckham turned back to the other truck, his heart flipping when he saw it was Horn and Timothy. Singe marks and ash covered their ACUs, but they appeared uninjured.
“We have to help reinforce this gate!” Horn said.
“Ruckley, keep the Humvee ready for us!” Beckham said.
He followed Horn and Timothy back toward the semi-trailer where they had a clear view of the fighting on the catwalks and watchtowers. At least ten Thrall Variants had climbed the walls from the other side of the gate and were leaping onto the catwalks to join in the skirmish, fighting beside the remaining Chimeras.
Most of the soldiers defending the gate appeared too young or too old to be fighting. As he ran, Beckham saw a boy no older than fourteen standing next to a guy with a white beard who had to be pushing seventy. The man held up a rifle to block a cutlass. The strike knocked him to his back on the catwalk. He shielded his face with a hand, and the Chimera cocked back his blade for the killing blow.
Before Beckham could unsling his rifle, a burst of gunfire erased the creature’s face.
“Nice shot!” Horn said.
Timothy adjusted his aim and then took out a Variant prowling toward a young soldier.
Half the Variants were at the top of the walls, mixing in with the Allied soldiers on the platforms.
“Watch your zone of fire!” Beckham shouted. He shouldered his rifle and went to work, sending bullets tearing through a few beasts still climbing over the lips of the walls. Three of the Chimeras dropped to their knees and aimed toward Beckham in response to the incoming fire. Before they got off a round, Horn’s M249 slung a fusillade of fire into their augmented bodies.
Timothy helped Beckham pick off the rest of the monsters one-by-one.
Their efforts were enough to regain control over the gate, and the surviving soldiers finished off the last few Chimeras.
Horn jogged over to Beckham, and they shared a brief hug. After pulling away, Beckham pulled Timothy into a hug too.
“Good timing, Captain,” Timothy said.
“Good shooting.”
The sounds of distant explosions and gunfire reminded him this was just one battle of many.
“Hold your positions and keep fighting!” Beckham yelled to the surviving soldiers along the wall. “This victory proves we can win!”
Beckham led the way back to the Humvee.
“Good to see your mug,” Horn said to Ruckley.
“You smell like always,” she replied. “But yeah, good to see you.”
Timothy chuckled as they jumped into the vehicle and started to drive back toward the command post. As Ruckley steered around the wreckage of a Black Hawk, the radio crackled with a chilling report.
“Breach on the seaborne wall! Reinforce immediately!”
“Fuck, we need to move,” Beckham said.
“We’ve got hostile choppers on the hospital now, too!” another voice stated. “Requesting immediate assistance!”
Beckham tried calling back on the radio, dialing it in to reach Kate, but there was no answer.
“No, no, no,” Beckham said, slamming his fists on the Humvee’s dash.
Horn put a hand on his shoulder.
“Ruckley, take us there now,” Beckham said.
“You got it, Captain.”
The Humvee sped down the debris-littered road. Beckham reloaded his rifle and tried to remain calm, but he struggled to contain his breathing.
“It’s going to be okay,” Timothy said. “We’ll save her.”
Beckham nodded, praying his young friend was right.
***
Azrael leaned out of the passenger seat of the MH-6 Little Bird helicopter, taking in the scent of burned flesh and death. Corpses littered the streets. Blood flowed freely.
It was a shame. Many of these humans could have joined the New Gods. But their ignorant and selfish leader had sacrificed them all in a futile attempt to preserve this pathetic country. Jan Ringgold was probably cowering deep underground, stubbornly hiding while she used her people as a shield of meat.
He would find her, and she would pay for this foolishness.
But first he was headed to Doctor Kate Lovato and her team. He had used the remote sensors his Scions had found in the Houston tunnels to track them down. It was a bit premature to be coming in this far to grab the scientist, but Azrael didn’t want to give her a chance to escape. Besides, other choppers were depositing collaborators and Variants around the island, and more of his forces flooded in from the breached walls on the eastern shore.
Twenty Scions from his death squads were already waiting on the hospital rooftop. They had made quick work of the few guards there.
The Little Bird touched down in the middle of the human corpses. Azrael strode out, the rotor wash kicking up his black cloak.
One of his Scions that had waited for his arrival knelt before him. “Prophet, we are ready.”
“Rise, Abaddon,” Azrael said.
The Scion stood again, facing him with golden eyes peering out behind a black mask.
“I want Kate and her team alive, but kill everyone else,” Azrael said. “Have all our ground forces in the area secure the exits.”
“Yes, Prophet,” Abaddon said.
Abaddon turned and led the death squads into the building, rushing down the stairs. From the pre-war schematics of the hospital, Azrael knew the clinical laboratory was on the second floor. That would be the most logical place for the science team to have set up their labs.
As Azrael followed his warriors into the building, he heard the cries of the injured. These helpless, weak humans would serve no purpose other than to feed his army.
He wasn’t sure why anyone would want to protect these breathing corpses, but a group of soldiers had set up a barricade of patient examination beds just inside the hall on the third
