After the Tide: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller
Date: 2024-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

AFTER THE TIDE

ANTHONY J. MELCHIORRI

FIREHAWK PRESS, LLC

CONTENTS

Newsletter

-1-

-2-

-3-

-4-

-5-

-6-

-7-

-8-

-9-

-10-

-11-

-12-

-13-

-14-

-15-

-16-

-17-

-18-

-19-

-20-

-21-

-22-

-23-

-24-

-25-

-26-

-27-

-28-

-29-

-30-

-31-

-32-

-33-

-34-

-35-

-36-

-37-

-38-

-39-

-40-

-41-

-42-

-43-

-44-

-45-

-46-

-47-

-48-

-49-

-50-

-51-

-Epilogue-

For the Reader

About the Author

After the Tide

(After the Tide, Book 1)

Anthony J. Melchiorri

February 2024

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After the Tide

Copyright © 2024 by Anthony J. Melchiorri. All rights reserved.

First Edition: February 2024
https://AnthonyJMelchiorri.com

Cover Design: Damonza

Edited by AJ Spedding

ISBN: 9798877129795

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

-1-

Miguel Ruiz thought he’d left war behind on foreign shores. Turned out, you never really escaped war any more than you could escape being a US Army Ranger. War haunts you, waiting to detonate once more like a land mine long buried, just needing the right pressure to explode back into your life. The enemies change. The stakes shift.

But war forever remains war. And a lifelong warrior like Miguel inevitably gets sucked back into the fight.

His early career had been spent downrange chasing insurgents in the sandbox and then chasing the Taliban in the mountains of Afghanistan. Running convoys in the Rangers, protecting VIPs, extracting high-value targets, he’d done it all. Been the occupying force before, the guy gunning down belligerents and insurgents, shoulder to shoulder with his brothers. He knew the terrible frustration of wanting desperately to protect the kids he handed chocolate to in the streets—and being wholly unable because those same kids went home to parents that wouldn’t rat out the Al-Qaeda fighters who came out at night to shell the US bases and strongholds before disappearing back into the towns protected by their human shields.

It sucked.

He’d been there, done that. All of it on the other side of the world.

Now, nearly fifteen years after a medical retirement from the Corps, he was doing it again. Conducting missions in a country filled with hostiles. Only it wasn’t across an ocean and a continent. It was right here. Right at home. The United States of America.

Running a patrol on the fissured and pothole-laden streets of run-down New Haven, Connecticut, hadn’t been what he had in mind when, at seventeen, he’d convinced his dad to sign off on his early enlistment. Especially now that instead of the armor-wrapped Humvees he used in the Corps, he was in the passenger seat of a rust-pocked Ford F-150 that had rolled off the assembly line not long after he was born.

Miguel propped one elbow out the open window. Life’s funny like that.

A breeze rolled in from the Atlantic—salty and thick.

Andris Jansons drove the truck. Scars crisscrossed the man’s square jaw and traced down his muscled arms, peeking out from his collar and the straining sleeves of his T-shirt. The former French Legionnaire, native Latvian, and professional destroyer of doors, walls, and other things that could go boom had a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. Hot ash fell from it over the worn-leather bench seat, finding its way into the cracks.

“Yo, you trying to burn this truck up with us in it, bro?” Miguel asked.

“This truck can burn, and it would look better,” Andris said in a thick Northeastern European accent.

Don’t call it Eastern European. Miguel had made that mistake once. Andris had about cocked back a fist as if Miguel said he’d had relations with the Latvian’s mother. He didn’t fully understand the geopolitical ramifications of the unintended insult, but he didn’t want to offend Andris further by asking.

Years spent serving beside Miguel in their government-sanctioned covert merc group and Andris still hadn’t shaken his Latvian accent. Miguel was pretty sure he kept it for fun. Because hell, after the Tide swept America and the rest of the world, you found fun where you could.

Miguel gave Andris a playful punch in the shoulder. “Yeah, sure, burn the truck. But what about us?”

Andris laughed. “You think we could look much worse?”

Miguel caught a glimpse of his ruddy face in the cracked sun-visor mirror hanging by one plastic clip. People had once called him boyish. Maybe even handsome. He wouldn’t believe them if they told him that now. Wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Sun damage. Scars and roughly hewn flesh left by the claws of nightmarish monsters.

He flexed the fingers on his left hand. Or rather, activated the mechanisms that moved the prosthetic fingers. Andris was right. They weren’t getting prettier.

He raised the prosthetic. “Maybe I’m not interested in losing another limb. You know how long it took to get used to this one?”

A face leaned in from the open rear window of the cab. Short blond hair and sharp blue eyes framed a pointed jaw. Jenna Reed. She didn’t boast the same number of scars as Miguel and Andris, but she might’ve had the worst of it. A long, thick line traced from the top of her skull down to her chin and over her throat. You could still see where the stitches had been.

“Hey, it’s hot as balls already,” Jenna said. “And you want to start a bonfire? No thank you.”

“You would not believe how hot it gets in Latvia,” Andris said. “We freeze all fall, winter, and spring only to melt in the middle of summer. It is so hot that our soviet-bloc apartments melt a little each year. The ceilings get lower. The doors crack. Your grandmother has to hunch over more and more just to light the stove.”

Jenna stuck her sunburned face just a touch more into the cab. “Andris, I don’t believe you for a second. Latvia is not boiling in the summer. It also doesn’t have the castle from Harry Potter, and not everyone drinks vodka for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“My grandmother did,” Andris said. “It is how she lived to one hundred and thirty years.”

“If we could turn your bullshit into actual bullshit, we wouldn’t need to haul a truckload of fertilizer up to the farms around Podunk Durham. We could just set you up at the edge of a field and have you spout all that BS. Free fertilizer.”

“You are welcome to shut the window and stay in the truck bed with those very vital bags of fertilizer.” Andris jerked a thumb in the general direction of the back of the truck. “There is no need for you to listen to my touching tales of the homeland.”

Jenna scrunched her nose as she took a comical sniff of the air around Andris. “Shoot, I thought I had the short end of the stick. But with you two stinking up the cab, I think I’ll take the bags of cow crap.”

Miguel couldn’t help but laugh. Jenna was one of the first women through the US Army’s Ranger School. She was as tough as leather and had achieved something historical. Now, with what was left of America thirsty for new bodies in the bedraggled military, everyone and their dog could find a place in the service. Miguel worried that meant the quals for Ranger School—one of the elite groups in the landlubbing Army—had been forcibly relaxed as well. He wondered how many alive today could truly appreciate Jenna’s achievement.

Hell, he wouldn’t blame anyone who underestimated the three of them. Driving around in an old pickup transporting veritable crap wasn’t an impressive feat worthy of their past service. But a job was a job.

At least that was what he told himself.

“Ten years ago, we were sailing across oceans chasing down bioweapons and terrorists,” Miguel said. “Now we’re hauling shit over broken highways. You guys ever miss the seas?”

“Russians did a number on us,” Jenna said. “What choice do we got? A bioweapon turns like—what?—eighty percent plus of the population into some screwed-up monsters hell-bent on killing everything in their path, and you think things are going to go back to normal?”

“Ain’t a day in my life normal,” Miguel said with a laugh. “But that ain’t the question either. You miss it?”

“Running for our lives?” Andris asked. “Fighting in foreign countries against people turned into monsters? Against engineered beasts that used to be your brothers and sisters, cousins and parents? No, I do not miss that. If I wanted that, I could go back to Latvia. Back where things have not been cleaned up. Back where digging your own grave before your inevitable death from starvation is the nationally recommended exercise.”

Jenna rolled her eyes hard enough that Miguel thought they might go bouncing out the truck.

“It ain’t even cleaned up here, bro,” Miguel said.

“At least there is an American government and a military. No matter how different it is now from then, it exists. I am not sure how many politicians in Riga are alive to attempt resurrecting Latvia to her former glory.”

“God Bless America,” Jenna said.

Miguel couldn’t quite tell if she was serious or sarcastic. Maybe a bit of both.

Truly, maybe God did bless America. Because screw it. They were still here. America had recovered from the Tide—and was still recovering. The country had regrown from distinct bastions of struggling people, preppers, survivalists, soldiers, scientists, and a whole bunch of other civilians (shit, even a few politicians) who had known or learned how to live and fight when the darkest of storms had nearly swallowed all of humanity.

Kind of a miracle if you thought about it.

They rolled through a dilapidated neighborhood of mostly one-story homes and fallen telephone lines. Shoulder-high grass rose on either side of the road, belying the fact that most of these houses were occupied again. The American dream had morphed from white-picket fences and manicured lawns to just having bread on the table and a safe place to sleep at night, protected from outlaws and creatures that lurked in the darkness.

Another convoy of three trucks rolled toward them, coming from the direction Miguel’s team was headed. He gave the soldiers on board a wave; they waved back. All the men and women in the vehicles wore the standard-issue combat uniform of the US Army, though even with the briefest glance, Miguel could tell they weren’t all as up to standard as his old DI would’ve liked in boot. But he didn’t fault them. Not on days like these, where ammo and fresh uniforms were as scarce as a good dive bar in the sandbox.

The trucks rumbled by. Each filled with crates full of food. Just as precious as gold nowadays—and maybe even more precious than fuel. Food wasn’t so easy to come by when half the factory farms had shuttered and the companies running said farms had come back from the dead like zombies, shambling and falling apart. Which was why the government had hired the Hunters to help run supplies around New England.

The elite covert military contracting group run by Captain Dominic Holland was based out of a high-tech military stealth ship. The Hunters completed some of the most important and dangerous missions around the world to keep America safe and had always served the homeland. The venue had changed, the jobs were different, but the importance of their service remained the same. Maybe even more crucial now than ever. Their goal was simple: save lives, whether it was by shooting murderous creatures or delivering supplies to farms.

“Hey, guys,” Jenna said, leaning through the window again. “We got company.”

She cradled her M4. Not yet pointing it over the bags of fertilizer, but ready. All the humor they’d shared earlier evaporated quicker than blood spilled over the desert sands.

Miguel pulled back the charging handle on his rifle and blew out a sigh. “Andris, you good?”

“All good. If these are raiders, if they are robbers, I trust you and Jenna will take care of them.”

“Always.”

Miguel leaned out the passenger window, eyeing the truck racing toward them from behind. Mud spatter marred the windshield. One of its headlights was cracked. The vehicle kicked up a dust cloud as the diesel engine rumbled louder and louder, gaining by the second.

“Looks like they’re trying to ram us,” Miguel said.

Of all the tricks and traps they’d endured, the last thing they’d expected was someone to come rushing at their backside in a truck that was already one wheel in the junkyard. The hell was this about? He swallowed the lump in his throat and hoisted his rifle, propping it out the window.

Jenna kept her aim squarely on the vehicle, elbows on the bags. Andris just kept driving straight ahead.

The other truck didn’t back down.

“Come on,” Miguel said under his breath.

Last thing he wanted to do was open fire on his fellow Americans. He hated every time he pulled the trigger to do it. But when people threatened to kill you and yours, when they wanted to steal instead of contributing to the unified effort to bring America back from the brink, he had to do what he had to do.

Jenna waved her hand to get the other vehicle to back off. She shouted at them to slow down.

Both she and Miguel had been in convoys overseas when a car filled with explosives or hostiles rode their ass. While many of the vehicles tailgating their convoys were hostile, just as often, they were filled with civilians. People who’d grown frustrated with the Americans or were suffering a bad case of road rage or just didn’t realize what kind of foolhardy danger they were in when they came speeding up on a convoy of some of America’s finest.

The people in that truck had to see Miguel and Jenna’s weapons. Why were they trying to throw themselves on the team’s spears like this?

Something wasn’t right. Miguel felt it in his gut. Standard operating procedure told him that now was the time to start throwing a warning shot or two. If the other vehicle didn’t respond, they would aim for other targets.

Tires, engines.

Lastly, people.

“You going to take a shot?” Andris asked, pushing the pedal down probably as far as he dared, swerving around canyons in the road, the engine chugging about as hard as it could go.

Miguel fired a warning shot. The bullet sparked off the road, ricocheting into the grass.

The other truck never slowed.

Then a passenger stuck their head out, waving a piece of dingy white fabric.

Miguel looked back at Andris, who stole a glance in the rearview. Jenna never took her eyes off her iron sights.

The truck didn’t slow, but the man waving that white piece of fabric flung it around even faster.

“Trap?” Andris asked.

“Maybe.”

Miguel had to decide. Quickly. These people wanted him to stop. No doubt. But what played out after could go two drastically different directions. Either these were just friendlies in the suburbs who needed urgent help, or they were predators seeking prey. If so, someone was going to end up dead today.

The smart answer, the one Miguel knew he should follow, was to keep driving. Get this truck to the fields outside of Old Durham. Deliver the goods and keep America fed. But though the Hunters were trained warriors, had been selected from the ranks of battle-hardy military elements, they still couldn’t forget the goal behind every one of their missions: to help those who could not help themselves.

Cheezy? Miguel thought so sometimes. Necessary? Yeah. Because if there weren’t people like them to support and protect the average American, where did that leave the country?

“Pull over,” he said. “Watch the vehicle.”

Andris slowed the truck.

Miguel leaned out the rear window. “Jenna, do not take your eyes off those people. You see me go down, you fire. You hear me yell at you, you fire.”

“Count on it, brother.”

Before the truck came to a full stop, Miguel busted out of the door, his feet sliding in the tall grass at the edge of the road. He shouldered his rifle, aiming it at the other truck, then ran toward it, yelling as loud as he could.

“Stop right there! Stop that truck! Now!”

The driver either heard him or got the picture. The squeal of brakes sounded. The vehicle skidded forward, its bed twisting slightly at the sudden shift in momentum.

After the truck jolted to a stop, the driver’s side door swung open. A man leapt out of the driver’s seat, a graying beard trailing down his plaid shirt.

“Don’t shoot!” he bellowed, hands in the air.

Miguel saw blood on his fingers. Dark, wet stains marred his shirt.

“Stay right there!” Miguel said.

Another passenger, in a brown T-shirt spotted in blood, came out. Blood covered his face and arms too. He ripped open the back door of the extended cab truck then reached toward the rear seats. When he came out, he carried a large bundle wrapped in crimson-stained blankets.

Miguel’s mind went into overdrive, analyzing all the details, listening for any clicks of a charging handle or a hammer indicating someone else had brought a gun to the fight. He watched out his periphery for an ambush. An attack. But so far, nothing.

The man with the brown shirt took a few tentative steps forward. Miguel’s eyes went to the bundle the guy was carrying.

It was a person in a blanket. Small. A child, maybe ten years old?

“My son,” the guy said.

“What happened?” Miguel said, lowering his rifle slightly. But not all the way.

There were assholes in this world that happily used children as bait.

The guy’s eyes turned from the blanket-wrapped boy then up to Miguel. “You’re with the government, right?”

Miguel gave him a single nod. Close enough.

“You got Phoenix Compound on you?”

It was standard issue to carry a blister pack on all military and military-authorized outings. The compound functioned as a vaccine but required frequent-enough boosters that most people couldn’t keep up on their doses. Instead, they used it for its secondary purpose: a cure if you applied it in the early stages of infection. Not that you needed it much in New England nowadays. The people infected with the bioweapon—the Oni Agent—had pretty much been eradicated or sequestered. But if you had a run-in with the bioweapon, the Phoenix Compound could prevent the worst from happening.

There was only one good reason this guy wanted some now.

“We do,” Miguel said. “You telling me…?”

“Skulls,” the man said. “Skulls did this.”

“You’re kidding. I haven’t seen any Skulls in… weeks.”

“I’m not lying. A couple tried to eat my kid. And… and… if we don’t get him the Compound…”

Miguel knew what came after. What would happen to that boy if he didn’t get immediate treatment.

“They’ve been eradicated around these parts,” Miguel said again as if that would change the situation. Giving the Phoenix Compound to someone who wasn’t infected meant a whole lot of bad complications you didn’t want. Namely, death. “You sure it was the Skulls?”

“They’re back. I swear.” The man shifted the blanket, revealing the boy’s lacerated face.

For the second time in minutes, Miguel had to swallow a nasty lump in his throat. Yeah. The Skulls were back all right.

-2-

Sweat trickled down Kara Holland’s back as her horse’s hooves clicked noisily against the broken asphalt. Her auburn hair was tied in a ponytail in hopes the breeze would help cool her neck. Didn’t really work. Even the shade over her face from her cowboy hat didn’t stop the sweat pebbling over her forehead and nose. After the Tide, she’d thought maybe the world would calm down and cool down. With most cities dying and shrinking, traffic dwindling like water through a dammed-off stream, she thought maybe nature would have a chance to recover.

She looked to the left. The right. Both sides of the highway were covered in leafy trees. Weeds pushed up between every crack in the asphalt. If you didn’t keep your eye on the road, it wouldn’t be hard to lose track of it. It was impossible to see the guardrails nowadays.

For a while, the only thing demarcating the sides of the road were the lines of broken-down vehicles. The Army Corps of Engineers had reclaimed the highways and interstates by pushing rusting, abandoned cars and trucks to the side. But even those markers had lasted only so long until weeds bloomed through the cracks in the road and between the vehicles, suffocating the lingering reminders of civilization too.

Her horse, Dancer, snorted as flies buzzed around his face. Kara swatted at a few of them. But for each one she brought down, three or four more rose from the weeds to take a bite of Dancer’s flesh.

Little monsters.

“Sorry, buddy,” Kara said. “We’re almost there.”

Damn summer flies. She’d take the winter again. At least you could bundle up to protect yourself from the cold, and there weren’t any bugs. Summer? Well, there was only so much you could do to cool off in the thick humidity, traveling from town to town, getting work where it came. Even Dancer seemed to like the chilly air in Appalachia and New England better during those cooler months.

He didn’t like the chest-deep snow from a storm, of course. But who did?

She recalled the time they’d been on a rescue mission, seeking out a kid lost in the storm. Dancer bravely plowed through the snow like an icebreaker ship through the arctic. Snow in his mane. On his eyelashes. Clumping across his short-hair coat.

But he’d done it because she wanted him to.

He was a good horse like that. She loved him. Hated the name. But that wasn’t her choice.

The guy she’d got him from had had a horse ranch. Couldn’t pay Kara in money or food or bullets, but he could give her a horse. She’d wondered if that was a good idea at the time. If maybe she was getting herself wrapped up in a liability instead of an asset.

Problem was, she’d always wanted to be a veterinarian. She loved animals. Always had. From geckos to dogs, she’d raised them all as a kid, much to the dismay of her mother. But she never got to finish her college degree. The Tide had swept the world when she was studying biology at the University of Maryland in College Park. She’d been scooped up by Father and followed him around the world on the Huntress, his organization’s ship. She’d got a taste of a life spent protecting her country from abroad and preserving the lives of those back home who would probably never learn your name.

It was scary. It was hard. And she’d watched more friends and even family die than anyone should have to.

But it had been worth it.

Though she wasn’t on the Huntress anymore (or the new ship that her father commanded, the Bethany, the Huntress’s twin sister), she did what she could. Much to her father’s dismay.

Which meant she helped a rancher when a nest of Skulls had been butchering his livestock. She’d found them, cleared them out, and voila, she’d gotten Dancer. The beautiful Arabian horse was as loyal as her childhood golden retriever, Maggie. And though she’d thought about changing his name (the rancher apparently had an affinity for Santa Claus. Good God, she still remembered the red-and-white figurines cluttering every surface of his living room like a Christmas orgy), she never could. He seemed to like being called Dancer. At least it was better than Prancer and Vixen.

“There we are, boy.”

A green sign pocked with bullet holes announced she was entering Cumberland, Maryland. The town was nestled in the Appalachians where West Virginia butted up against the home of tasty blue crabs, orioles (real ones and the old baseball team), and the still-functioning Naval Academy in Annapolis.

Dancer walked jauntily through the pitted streets. His hooves clip-clopped over the asphalt, the noise bouncing off red-brick buildings as they made their way downtown. Kara pulled back on Dancer’s reins when she came to an intersection. The road here had been paved with bricks. Trucks and cars were parked sporadically along what used to be a pedestrian street. To her right, a church steeple jutted up against the verdant mountains, people filing out. Wasn’t a Sunday, so Kara wondered if it was a funeral or wedding. To her left, a few people milled about between clothing and food stores. Gift shops and trinkets stores had been turned into more practical businesses, though faded and partially lit signs still advertised their old wares above grimy glass windows, half of which had been cracked or shattered.

Dark stains marred the brick as Kara directed Dancer to her left, toward a neon sign that hadn’t tasted electricity in years. The old sign advertised Rohland’s Photos. She took out a crumpled poster from her vest pocket and checked the address. Yup. That was it.

As Dancer took her to the shop, eyes followed her from windows in the two- and three-story brick-faced buildings. Invariably, they disappeared when she glanced up at them. A few passersby shied away from her, some even reaching for holstered firearms or blades when she approached. She counted no more than fifteen people in the streets. Most were men who’d been chewed up and spit out by life, their faces a craggy mess of facial hair, sun damage, and scars. All the characteristic look of a special class of people: survivors.

She stopped Dancer in front of Rohland’s.

Two men stepped from the front door, letting it slam behind them. Hard enough that Kara thought the whole decaying building might crumble. Both guys wore vests with armor plates in them. They had leather bracers on their arms, something people had fashioned to prevent Skull bites in the early days after the Tide started. Something people still did out of habit and/or necessity. Mostly out of habit on the East Coast nowadays, given the lack of Skulls roaming about. But it was kind of like wearing a belt even when your pants stayed up just fine on their own. You did it because without it, something felt off.

“Can I help you, young lady?” one of the grizzled guys asked. His beady eyes practically disappeared between a thick brow and a bulbous nose colored by broken blood vessels.

The other guy’s hand reached for the revolver tucked into his waistband. He was thinner and lanky, with a dark mustache over his lip. Despite his friendly eyes, his posture was decidedly guarded.

“You shouldn’t be wandering these parts alone,” Mr. Mustache said. “It’s dangerous. Especially for a girl your age.”

“Girl?” Kara asked, raising a brow.

Half her face was a scarred mess. So was everybody’s nowadays. She wasn’t pretty anymore, but neither was the rest of the world. All the same, she didn’t think she looked like a little girl anymore.

“Yeah, you’re what?” Mustache asked. “Twenty?”

“Add an even ten, and you got me. I’ll take the compliment, but that’s not why I came.”

The first man folded his arms over his chest. “You with the Children?”

Kara scoffed. Like she’d have anything to do with the Children of Kusanagi cult. These morons believed the Oni Agent was a necessary evil to wipe out the human population so nature could restore itself from the cancer of humanity. She’d spotted cultists showing up all around New England and beyond to recruit followers. She’d actually been surprised she hadn’t seen one or two of the cultists around Cumberland already preaching in the streets.

“Oh, hell no. I’m not one of the Children.” She couldn’t help laughing. “Let’s just say me and the Children don’t get along.”

The two men shared a look like they weren’t sure.

“Look,” Kara said. “I’m of the mindset that we should be killing every Skull left. I don’t want the Oni Agent to go reaping through what’s left of civilization.” She pointed to her face. “You think these scars are because I go around hugging those ugly Skull bastards?”

Mustache took his hand away from his revolver. He looked relieved not having to use it. “The Kusanagi folk would screw a Skull if it let them.”

“I’m not convinced they don’t do just that,” the other guy said.

That was not an image Kara wanted to entertain, so she quickly changed the subject. “I came here to see a Mr. Tressler.”

“The mayor?” Mustache asked.

“If the mayor’s name is Tressler, then that’s who I want to see.”

“You got business with him?”

Kara showed them the poster with one hand, then used her other to trace the satellite phone number under the name, TRESSLER. “That’s him, right?”

“The one,” Beady Eyes replied.

Kara slid off Dancer, her boots hitting the bricks. She patted the horse’s flank. “You got somewhere safe I can tie him up?”

She didn’t like leaving the horse out in the middle of the street, and she couldn’t exactly lock him up like a car.

“I’ll watch her,” Mustache said.

Dancer whinnied.

“Him,” Kara said.

Dancer gave a single clomp with a hoof as if pleased at Kara for making the correction.

“If he’s not here when I come out…”

“Horse isn’t going anywhere,” Mustache said. He brushed his hand over Dancer’s long snout.

The horse liked that, melting like snow in July. Mustache smiled at the animal.

“You got a sugar cube and you can make him your best friend for life,” Kara said.

“Shoot,” Mustache said. “You find me a sugar cube, and I’ll be your best friend for life.”

The three of them shared a laugh. Kara was thankful for it. The humor was a good sign. Like maybe these tough-on-the-exterior people weren’t so bad after all. She, of course, didn’t blame them for being skeptical about strangers. A person who welcomed anyone with a smile and a promise into their home after the Tide was already six feet under years ago.

“I’ll show you to Tressler,” Beady Eyes said. “Wilson.”

“Huh?”

“My name’s Wilson.”

“Ah, Kara.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

He held open the door, and Kara entered a place that had once been a camera store with photo-printing services. The glass counters still sat along the sides of the room. Some sun-bleached posters advertising cameras and lenses hung from the walls. But in the middle of the floor were chairs set up in a circle. Women and men with children were seated talking in hushed voices. Looked to be some kind of support group. Which honestly surprised Kara. She hadn’t expected anyone to take mental health seriously when physical health was in constant threat.

Toward the back of the room behind one of the dust-covered glass counters was a man with a crown of gray hair holding court with a group of three women and two men. He held a piece of paper full of handwritten notes and peered at them with a pair of reading glasses perched dangerously at the end of his nose.

“‘Ey, Tress,” Wilson said. “Got someone here to meet you.”

Tressler adjusted his reading glasses, looking over them at Kara. “Who’s this?”

“Kara Holland.” She stepped toward the counter, holding up the poster. “I called about your missing person.”

“Yes, well, now it’s three missing people. And…” He stopped as if he might be letting her know too much. “We sent out a couple of search parties. Couldn’t find anything.”

He kept playing with his reading glasses like it was a nervous tic.

Kara studied the sweat beading over his forehead. “No trace of these missing people?”

“None,” he said. “No idea where they went or why. Or who—”

“Someone took them,” one of the wrinkled, gray-haired women standing near Tressler said. She wore a big pearl necklace that even Kara could tell was plastic. “I’ve known Maureen since she was a little girl living next door. She wouldn’t have just left into the woods for no reason.”

“Someone or something,” another woman said, clutching a notebook close to her chest. “The Skulls are back, right in this area. I’m telling you.”

“You sure?” Kara asked. “Anyone seen them around these parts?”

The group looked among one another as if sharing some dark secret.

“Look, you want help, you got to start talking,” Kara said.

“We want help,” Tressler said. “But on the phone, I was promised a former Hunter.”

“We’ve all read about the Hunters,” Pearls said. “They stopped the Tide. They stopped the Oni Agent.”

“Obviously not,” the woman with the notebooks said. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here talking about this.”

Tressler squeezed past the women and met Kara at the counter. “I think what we’re trying to say is that the Hunters’ exploits are well-known by now. Everyone recognizes how they helped the military in those early days. We all know how they caught the people responsible for the Oni Agent. They’re heroes. When I was told a Hunter would help us in our search, it was an opportunity I could not pass up. So, Miss Kara, please tell me where we can find this Hunter. We will pay him handsomely. We’re desperate.”

Kara took off her hat, holding it over her chest. “You want a former Hunter? I’m your guy.”

-3-

Not a day after helping the boy injured by a Skull, Miguel was on his second Skull-related call. This time, it was an official government request. A report saying Skulls might’ve broken into an agricultural engineering facility up north.

Elias Thornfield himself, Director of National Security, had called on the Hunters. He proposed a routine job that might blossom into a big one. The kind of job you hoped stayed small because if it went big, if it evolved into something more, it meant a whole lot of people were certifiably screwed.

Outside the wires, beyond the fences and barricades surrounding New Haven, agricultural communities stretched up to Worcester. Miguel and the Hunters were in Norwich, a city situated where the Yantic and the Shetucket Rivers met to form the Thames. Miguel thought the Thames was a big river in London. Figured that this one was named after it. All these colonists trying to escape England and start their own country just kept naming things after the people they were running from. Homesick much?

They rolled up in their F-150, Andris driving again. Jenna was on the bench seat in the cab. This time, Miguel sat in the bed, watching for followers. He wasn’t alone. Beside him was Navid Ghasemi, the Hunters’ resident scientist and expert on all things biological engineering. The guy had been a young-faced graduate student when he’d joined their crew. His work during the Tide had earned him an honorary doctorate from Harvard. He’d been doing his graduate research work at Boston’s Massachusetts General Hospital when the world went to shit.

Navid sported a scruffy layer of black whiskers that contrasted sharply with his light-brown skin. He had filled out from a scrawny academic to a lean, mean field researcher. Instead of some stuffy white lab coat and glasses, Navid had on a set of olive fatigues. He didn’t quite carry himself like a soldier, and he definitely didn’t have the hours of training, but the guy had spent enough time with guns to be useful in a firefight. Right now, his old MP5 with a tactical flashlight mounted under the barrel hung from a harness over his chest.

Pulling triggers wasn’t why Navid had come.

“The captain tells me this place was fully functional yesterday,” Miguel said. Captain Dom Holland, the group’s veteran leader and former CIA intelligence officer, had made clear their objective.

Navid gave him a curt nod, then shielded his eyes with one hand against the sun as they navigated through the debris-filled streets. Most of the apartments and storefronts downtown looked abandoned. Bullet holes marred the bricks. Glass still glinted between blades of grass on cracked sidewalks crumbling from the changing seasons.

“Murdock Ag,” Navid said. “Valuable place. They work on genetically modified crops.”

“Genetically modified crops don’t scare you?” Miguel asked. Because they scared him. Genetically modified anything did now. You only had to look at what the Oni Agent had done to the world and nearly every living creature it touched. See one human infected with the agent, one human that had turned into a Skull, and you wondered why someone didn’t put the kibosh on the genetic engineering crap a whole lot sooner.

“Not crops,” Navid said. “Despite what people think about GMOs, they’re safe. In fact, they’re good for people. Tell me, if you can get a crop that’s drought resistant, doesn’t need harmful chemical pesticides, has more nutrients than normal corn or soybeans or whatever, what’s not to love?”

“I guess getting anything to eat right now is good,” Miguel said.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I’m as skeptical as an atheist at a sermon, know what I mean?”

“You want to believe, but you can’t.”

“More or less.”

“I get it. But we’re desperate.”

The truck turned up a road, the buildings on either side so neglected and beaten they were practically leaning over the sidewalk. Seemed like they might fall if a Nor’easter came rushing through.

Navid held up a solitary finger, his academic side definitely coming out. He clearly had a lecture ready. “Yes, some people abuse the shit out of science.”

“Those people nearly destroyed the world.”

“And who saved the world?”

“Ah, fine. The other people with the science.”

“Right. People like us.”

Miguel knew it wasn’t people like Navid. He literally was one of the scientists to help develop many of the pharmaceutical compounds still used today to combat Oni Agent infections and stop people from turning into Skulls. Medicines like the Phoenix Compound Miguel had used on that boy yesterday. “You got a point.”

“Science can be weaponized,” Navid went on.

“Oh, I get a whole lecture now?”

Navid grinned. “I’m never going on any of the worldwide lecture circuits my profs got to do. If I get an opening, you’re damn right I’m going to take it. Even if it’s an audience of one.”

Miguel glanced over the cab and down the street. “All right, I’ll listen. But we ain’t far. You’ll need to be quick.”

Navid looked crestfallen at missing his opportunity to monologue. He continued anyway. “There’s an outcry against GMO crops, but study after study has shown they’re safe for people. Right now, we need as much food as ever. Whether people like this answer or not, GMOs are what we need. Improved crop yields. Healthier, more robust plants. Crops that are more nutritious. I could go on.”

The truck slowed, and the rear window of the cab rolled back. Jenna poked her head out. “We’re here, boys.”

Miguel propped himself up to look over the cab. A pair of soldiers, rifles in hand, stood before a manually activated boom barrier. Andris leaned out the driver’s side window and identified themselves to the soldiers, who levered up the barrier. Andris drove on through car-lined streets. They weren’t all broken and busted but actually had fully intact windshields and headlights. People had used them recently.

A few local policemen stood around the street, watching the F-150 roll past.

From what Miguel knew, the buildings along this street were occupied by those who worked in the nearby factories and warehouses. Murdock Ag was one of those facilities.

The warehouse had been renovated as part of Connecticut’s attempts to modernize the old town prior to the Tide—an investment in biotechnology. Miguel looked up at the building covered in old red bricks with interspersed expansive windows. Turned out that investment hadn’t had time to pay off. At least now they could get some use out of the lab and biological engineering facilities. Or that had been the case until yesterday.

Andris parked in front of a pair of glass double doors. Above them, a sign proudly proclaimed Murdock Ag, home of agricultural innovation. Half shielded by the bushes and trees beside the doors, several of the windows had been busted. Shards of glass were sprinkled over the concrete and grass. This wasn’t a casualty of the Tide. This was recent.

Two soldiers sauntered up to Miguel and company as they got out. One was a sergeant, judging by his chevrons.

“Sarge,” Miguel said. “Came as soon as we heard.” He extended his hand. “Miguel Ruiz, Hunters.”

The sergeant shook Miguel’s hand. “Sergeant Gould.” The other Hunters introduced themselves before Gould went on. “We need some real bioweaps experts, and you guys were closest in the area.”

“Hold up, Sarge,” Miguel said. “Bioweaps? Thought this was an agriculture R&D place and we were just investigating Skull activity.”

“It is, and you are,” Gould said. “But we couldn’t be too cautious. What with the labs and everything.”

Miguel sure as hell wasn’t going to argue that point. “Nope. Can’t be too careful, just like you can’t have too much ketchup on fries.”

Andris huffed. “Ketchup is nothing but sugar and red food dye. Mayonnaise is another story. Mayonnaise with fries is far superior.”

Gould shot him a skeptical look.

“He’s European,” Miguel said. “Forgive him. What are we looking at inside?”

“That’s the thing,” Gould said. “We’re not sure. None of us are scientists, so we didn’t want to go digging where we don’t belong. Last thing we want to do is release some plant disease or break open a bottle of chemicals that we shouldn’t. Hence the biosafety concerns.”

“That’s what we got him for.” Miguel jerked his chin at Navid. “Guy’s our resident science geek.”

“We looking at any hostiles inside?” Jenna asked.

“Uncertain,” Gould replied.

Jenna peered into one of the broken windows.

“Time’s cooking,” Miguel said. “What did your people see?”

“My people? Nothing.” He pointed at an apartment building nearby. “Reports came from civvies. They heard the breaking glass. A couple said they saw monsters.”

“Besides reports of Skulls, did they see any people go in or out? Numbers would be good.”

“Don’t have either.”

“I can understand not seeing who went in,” Miguel said. “But if they didn’t see who went out…”

“Then there might be someone or something still in there,” Jenna finished.

Gould stepped back from the door, clearing the way. “Mm-hmm. We did a full perimeter check. Windows broken in the back too. So, feasibly, they made it in and out, then left. People just didn’t see ‘em.”

“Feasibly, sure,” Miguel said. Sure, it would be nice if whoever and whatever attacked the facility had just disappeared. But he didn’t want to count on it. He looked back at the team. “Ready?”

Navid nodded.

“Ready,” Jenna said.

Andris pulled back the charging handle on his rifle.

They were as ready as they could be when faced with the threat of creatures eager to rip your face off.

-4-

Navid held his MP5 against his shoulder. While Andris took rear guard, Jenna was on point. Miguel gave them hand signals to clear the lobby and the first few offices within the facility. The building wasn’t getting electricity today—the lines to the generators had been severed. Even if the reports were right that Skulls had been involved, Navid couldn’t help thinking it wasn’t just Skulls.

While panes of daylight bled in through some of the windows, many of the corridors were bathed in shadows. Navid couldn’t help that his heartbeat thudded heavily in his ears. The hair on the back of his neck stood up straight. He admired the way Andris, Miguel, and Jenna moved like liquid metal as they crunched over broken glass toward the laboratories in the back of the facility.

He’d gone on dozens of missions like this with them over the years. Even been kidnapped and forced to work for the enemy that had developed the Oni Agent a whole decade ago. But despite it all, he could never get used to being a soldier, a warrior.

There must’ve been something in these people’s DNA that made them like this. No matter how many years Navid spent beside them, he couldn’t just absorb through passive osmosis.

A low howl called through the building. Miguel held up a fist, and the team froze.

Navid held his breath.

The howling continued.

His pulse accelerated fast enough that he felt as if his heart might shatter right out through his ribs.

“Just the wind,” Miguel whispered.

Then he signaled for Jenna to lead onward.

Man, they hadn’t even made it far into this building, and already, he was losing it.

Jenna pointed at the walls as they advanced. The flashlight under her gun barrel illuminated the deep gouges torn in the wall.

“No,” Navid said aloud.

He couldn’t help it. The marks were unmistakable. These were from claws.

“Skulls got in,” Jenna said. “But why?”

Good question. Something must’ve attracted them. Got their attention. But in a town full of people, why this particular facility? After years of this area being protected, why did the Skulls show up now?

He was afraid they’d find out soon enough.

They moved quietly down the corridor. Creaking sounded from an office to their right. The rattle and hammer of water pipes echoed through a wall.

Every noise, every groan traveling through the building set Navid’s nerves on fire. They reached the end of the hall. More of the walls were covered in scrapes and scratches, gashes that had even shattered the tiled floor.

They reached a set of doors that operated with key card access. Only the key card device was hanging from the wall by a wire. The door to the lab was cranked open. Claw marks lined its edges.

Jenna shone her light through the busted-open door. The beam reflected off bits of broken glass scattered over lab benches. A couple of computer monitors were on the floor next to a PC, its wires and busted motherboard bleeding out like it was a disemboweled beast.

Navid spotted plastic vials scattered among brown glass chemical bottles. Some were smashed open, their contents mixing. Even from here, he recognized the hazard symbols on the labels. Skull and crossbones signified acute toxicity. A fire to report it was flammable. The silhouette of a person’s bust with a white starlike shape spreading from the center. Serious Health Hazard.

“Masks on,” Navid said. He slipped on his own self-filtering mask attached to a handheld oxygen bottle. “Don’t touch anything without gloves on.”

They moved into the lab, slowly spreading out as they cleared the aisles between the benches. Navid recognized gene sequencers and PCR machines, plenty of microscopes and chromatographs. There was a whole row of laminar flow hoods at the far end. A corner of the lab had been sectioned off behind a positive pressure room outfitted with cell incubators, more tissue culture hoods, and centrifuges.

Half the equipment was askew. More of it on the floor than on the benches. Plastic wrappers and pipettes and tubes were strewn everywhere. Scrapes on the surfaces of cabinets and shelves showed Skulls had definitely been here.

Navid first went to the broken chemical bottles. A mix of acetic acid, various solvents like isopropyl alcohol and methanol, along with some histological dyes. Nothing too dangerous.

“Chemicals aren’t the nice kind,” he said, “but they aren’t going to kill you if you breathe ‘em in or get them on you.”

“We’re in the clear, then?” Miguel asked.

“You’re never completely in the clear. Not really. Just don’t drink this shit. If you get it on you, wash it off.”

Andris pointed to an emergency shower at the corner of the room, standard fare for Biosafety Level 2 and above labs. “There is always that. I haven’t bathed in a couple days anyway.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Jenna said. “But I’m glad Navid told us to put the masks on.”

“Hey, lab might look clear,” Miguel said. “Doesn’t mean it’s open mic night yet.”

Jenna and Andris took the cue.

“Navid, you got any idea why someone would want in here?” Miguel asked.

“Someone? Besides a hungry Skull?” Navid curved around a lab bench. “No idea yet.”

“Yeah, maybe it’s a freak accident,” Miguel said. “But we all know better by now. Especially with the cut power.”

“Someone using the Skulls as cover to steal shit?” Jenna offered.

“Mm-hmm,” Miguel replied.

The others glanced back at Navid like he would have an answer. As if being a scientist, he could deduce the motives and purpose of others who had a remote interest in any science-related topic. He wished it were that easy.

“The sergeant didn’t say what we were authorized to take,” Navid said. “But if you find any lab notebooks, let me know. We’ll try pulling up some of those computers too.” He nodded toward another set of computers that wasn’t hooked up to any specific piece of equipment. “If we can get a copy of their drives, we might find some clue.”

“Assuming this isn’t just a freak accident,” Jenna said.

“I hate assuming anything,” Miguel said. “Makes you soft.”

Navid eyed some of the plastic vials in the corner of the room. People might’ve broken in for all kinds of reasons. Maybe they wanted the chemicals for explosives or needed the solvents for some manufacturing purpose. All the seeds in the R&D facility could be used to grow hearty crops for food. The technology and equipment might be sold off on the black market for a quick buck.

But most of the valuable stuff was still in place.

“I’m checking out the four-degree,” Navid said.

“The what?” Jenna asked.

“Four-degree cooler.” Then he realized his mistake, using jargon again. On the Huntress working with the science team, it usually wasn’t a problem. For these field ops, as smart as these other guys were, they had more pressing tasks than memorizing a bunch of lab terms. “The refrigerator.”

Only it wasn’t a normal refrigerator. Lab fridges could be fitted with alarms to notify researchers if they were left open too long. They also had a variety of digital displays to show the internal environment. And they automatically limited access to ensure safe running temperatures to keep samples and lab supplies at a nearly constant temperature, unlike consumer fridges.

Okay. Navid realized he was distracting himself. Going into scientist mode. He had half a mind to lecture them all on it. But he knew better. That was just his nerves getting to him. It was easier to focus on technical details rather than the idea a Skull, or multiple Skulls, might still be lurking around this facility somewhere while he played detective.

He pulled open the cooler door. No Skulls had been in here. Everything was neat. Orderly. Sheets outside the door labeled the contents and where to find them.

Navid let his MP5 fall on its sling then took out a pocket camera. Snapped some photos of the inventory lists on the door, then the contents inside. He started thumbing through boxes filled with small vials. “Strange,” he said.

“What’s that?” Miguel sidled up to the cooler. The operator’s eyes never turned to Navid, instead focusing on the shadows around them.

“They’re missing some samples.”

“What’d I tell you guys?” Miguel asked.

“I don’t know for certain they were stolen, I guess,” Navid said. “Could’ve been they forgot to update the inventory list outside. Or they just are slow at that kind of thing.”

He recalled his days in his grad school lab. You might have an inventory list outside the fridge that said you had eighteen VEGF ELISA kits ready to go. Then you went in and only found ten. Because lazy Tom never updated the inventory and forgetful Han never did no matter how many times you reminded her.

But all the same, he made a note of all the missing constituents. Maybe there was a clue there.

When Navid closed the fridge, he took out his pack and put it on the desk with the data computers. The Electronics Workshop aboard the Hunters’ ship, the Bethany, had a team of talented engineers that could whip up digital magic even on limited supplies. They had provided a portable battery and tools to copy both hard drives and solid-state drives. It took him a few minutes to deconstruct the computers, access their drives, and hook them up appropriately. The copying devices went to work, plugged in to the batteries.

“What else?” Miguel asked.

Navid pointed toward two huge steel doors at the back of the lab. One led to a walk-in cooler. The other, a freezer. Both necessary to preserve large samples and the archival samples at an R&D facility like this. “I want to see if there’s anything in there that would be ripe for the picking,” he explained. “It’s going to take longer to run through the inventory there than that small fridge.”

“Understood,” Miguel said. “We got your back. Jenna, Andris, let’s clear the walk-ins.”

Navid prowled toward the walk-in cooler. The light under his MP5 caught on the stainless steel surface. “Check that out.”

He directed his beam at some of the scratches alongside the big steel door handle. An icy knot tangled up his insides. A Skull had tried to get inside there. Which meant, maybe… maybe there was something in there the Skull was after.

Jenna nodded and went ahead. She wrapped her gloved fingers over the handle. Andris leveled his rifle up. Navid took a few steps back. He didn’t expect anything in there. Because while Skulls had gotten more intelligent over the years, they still could easily be distracted and run off when frustrated by an obstacle like an impenetrable steel door and a slightly complicated locking mechanism.

“If someone’s sheltering in there…” Jenna said.

Miguel gave her a nod.

She wrapped her knuckles on the door. “Rescue team responding to a Skull attack. Friendlies opening up. Anyone in there?”

There was no response.

If there had been a full-blooded Skull trapped in there, it would’ve lashed out in anger at the slightest provocation. Navid let the tension in his shoulders loosen.

Miguel gave the order to open the door.

Jenna tore it back. Andris took a step forward, his light dispelling the darkness inside. Navid had his own weapon raised slightly, ready to respond if necessary.

Nothing jumped out at them. But the walk-in wasn’t empty.

A man was crouched on his hands and knees. A dark puddle spread in front of him. A mixture of vomit and blood. Navid could only imagine the smell without an air filtration mask.

“Sir,” Jenna said. “We’re here to help.”

She didn’t even bother with the usual “Are you hurt?” Because one look at the man, anyone would know the answer.

The guy’s white lab coat was stained and soiled. Rips traced down through his slacks. If he hadn’t already had access to Phoenix Compound, he was going to need some.

“Sir?” Jenna asked again.

The researcher’s head turned up toward them. He pushed himself up, one leg at a time, until he was standing, his head hanging low.

Navid nearly retched.

Half the guy’s insides were outside. Already, bone protuberances pierced the flesh around his brow. The tips of his fingers poked out of the flesh, the first signs that the nanobacteria were colonizing his skeletal system, pumping out prions to make him crazy and creating a calcified shell around his bones.

He’d been attacked by a Skull. Escaped. And now, he was turning into one.

Before another word passed between Jenna or Andris, the man lunged, fingers outstretched. Three gunshots exploded in the lab. Navid’s ears rang. He took a step backward, blinking from the strobing flashes.

The guy was gone. Two new holes in his chest. One in his forehead. His jaw went slack, revealing a mouthful of pointed teeth.

Jenna lowered her rifle slightly.

Navid was breathing heavily, his heart pounding. No wonder they hadn’t heard a response. The guy was in the middle of turning. Past the point of return, past the point where a cure would do any good. He was a beast. An animal. A monster.

One lone researcher burning the candle at both ends, trying to help humanity at this Ag company. And what did he get for his devotion? Attacked by a Skull, infected with the Oni Agent, turned into a monstrosity, and killed in the place he worked.

Jenna knelt, checking the man’s pulse as more blood pooled around his body. “Clear.”

And just like that, they were in the cooler. Ready to examine more research samples. Somehow Navid had to ignore the corpse and the idea that he risked the same fate as the hapless soul behind him as he scoured the shelves of the cooler.

All in the name of science.

-5-

Dominic Holland stood on the bridge of the Bethany. The ship was his sanctuary. His seaborne, two-hundred-forty-foot-long, seven-hundred-five-ton, forty-person, all-in-one Batmobile/Batcave. A paragon of naval engineering. And it was stuck in the harbor once again.

Its composite material hull and angular design minimized its prominence via radar. The shape also reduced the chances of it being visually spotted. Below decks, there was a medical bay side by side with a science laboratory for the detection and characterization of biological and chemical weapons along with a workshop for electronics and computer gadgetry. It was equipped with a helipad and corresponding helicopter hangar. If stealth failed, the Bethany was fitted with surface-to-air and antisurface ship missiles.

The Bethany yearned to sail. Dom wanted it too.

He brushed a hand through his sandy hair. The sun set past the dockyards, over the partially rebuilt downtown. His first mate and spouse, Meredith Webb, was beside him, her hand in his. Not because this was a romantic sunset but because she was trying to squeeze his hand hard enough to keep him anchored in the present.

It wasn’t working.

“I hate it,” he muttered, rotating the simple silver wedding band on his ring finger. He didn’t hate the marriage. Nah, messing with the ring had become a kind of tic.

“What? The fact the Tide happened? The fact we’re docked up in New Haven instead of sailing on some covert op? The fact Kara’s doing her own thing far from here? Or the fact the field team found evidence of Skulls in a neighboring town?”

“Take your pick.”

Meredith laughed.

Dom had been an intelligence officer working with the Langley crowd for years before striking out on his own, founding the Hunters. The formation had partially been Meredith’s idea. A covert group sent to the far reaches of the world, specializing in bioweapons and chemical warfare. All the nasty science stuff people liked to pretend didn’t exist. He’d managed one of the most successful covert military and intelligence contracting groups, but then came the Tide. The Oni Agent reared its ugly head. Even now, the original development by Unit 731 in Japan during World War II always had Dom shudder when thinking of the horrifying inventions the Japanese biowarfare group had worked on. In fact, the group had been founded specifically because biological and chemical weapons had been prohibited by the Geneva Protocol. The assholes that had started Unit 731 figured that if something was prohibited, it must be because it was horrifyingly effective.

Turned out they were right.

Then the Soviet Union’s own biological warfare program, Biopreparat, modified and perfected the Oni Agent. The fall of the USSR didn’t dissuade the evil bastards either. Nope. They kept going.

And then it got loose.

The Oni Agent spread. The world fell. The Skulls rose.

Dom and his Hunters were among those who worked their asses off chasing down leads on the constantly shifting fronts of the resulting war. From the lab bench to Siberia, they’d fought. He’d thought with the development of a cure, there was hope. All they needed was time before the world healed. Well, maybe that was true, but the question was, how much time?

Evidently, not enough yet.

“I want to be back out in the field.” Dom ignored the aches in his knees and lower back. Injuries from his fifty-plus years on Earth, obtained over a career of sailing, combat, and general life crap.

Meredith laughed again. “Now you know how I feel. All those years organizing ops from Langley, sending teams out to do the work, while I waited anxiously to hear what was going on.”

“You know I thought it was stressful in the field. I know what fear feels like when bullets are flying and Skulls are scratching and screaming. But at least when you’re there, with your men, you know you’ve got the power to do something. Here?” He shrugged his big shoulders. “I can call Thornfield to give him briefings and get jobs. I can ask him for more supplies and fuel he doesn’t have. I can pester my people on the radio. But being constrained to the ship?”

“Goes with you about as well as Glenn’s hot chili.”

Now Dom laughed. Yeah, he recalled the retired Hunter’s cooking. The guy was a monster in the field but a bookworm on the ship. And he had a passion for good food. Eating it. Making it. The spicier, the better. Too spicy for Dom and his gut, though.

“I’m going out on the next op,” Dom said. “Have to.”

“Don’t you think…”

Meredith didn’t finish her thought. They’d been over this. Multiple times over the past several years. Because she was going to ask, “Don’t you think that’s how Kara feels? Don’t you think that’s why she wanted to do her own thing?” The whole apple and tree thing.

Yeah. Kara hadn’t fallen far from him. Which was what he both loved about her and anguished over. How could he protect her when she was out there? Just like his crew today in Norwich.

“I’m going out next time,” Dom said. “Assuming we get a next time from Thornfield. Sometimes I feel like he’s holding back on work for us. Like he’s tired of relying on us for some of these missions.”

“Maybe the work’s drying up because things really are getting better.”

Dom leaned back against the console of the ship, folding his arms over his chest. The orange sun was just now dipping behind the bedraggled skyline. “I got a feeling that isn’t the whole story. Makes me worried that the America we got left doesn’t have much left itself.”

“That’s the truth. I still got contacts in Langley. Not all bigwigs like Thornfield. But I can scrounge up new jobs for us.”

“Not just because we need the money, though God knows we do,” Dom said. “Running a ship like this isn’t cheap. But because I still want to help. I don’t want them to write us off.”

“Hard to write off the Hunters.”

Dom could still recall when the newspapers started being printed again. Sometimes broadcasts even made it to people’s televisions. The internet was off and on depending on where you lived. And for the first time in his career, the Hunters were publicly acknowledged for their service. His crew of mostly American military veterans got recognition. None of them really wanted it. After all, they’d gone into covert ops because they were the types to work for the knowledge that you were contributing to something bigger. Not for a pat on the back and a medal.

The wind shifted, whistling in through the open windows around the bridge. It tickled over Dom’s hair.

Meredith shuddered at the cool breeze. “Maybe we should think about retiring back to the Florida Keys. Maybe this old ship isn’t necessary anymore.”

Dom scrunched his brow. “You don’t want do this anymore?”

“I’m not saying I don’t want to. Just that the times are changing, we’ve changed with them, and as much as I hate to say it, maybe we’re aging out of it. Maybe there are better places for us to help.”

“You got ideas?”

“Remember the early days of the Tide?”

“Which ones?”

“Back when we were sending refugees to Kent Island.”

Dom remembered it well—the safe zone they’d helped establish as Skulls swarmed over Maryland. The big island was perfectly positioned on Route 50 between the east and west sides of Maryland on the Chesapeake Bay.

“At the time, there weren’t many places like that,” Meredith said. “Now? The whole country is really just a patchwork of safe zones and wilderness. The Keys are no different. We could do security there, help with the fishing, you name it. There are jobs and opportunities to contribute to, all worthwhile.”

“It’s all a step down.”

“Not a step down,” Meredith countered. “A step aside. Sometimes the old dogs got to make room for the young ones. You got a ship full of people on here who you’ve trained to eventually take over anyway.”

Dom grunted.

“You’re already turning into a grumpy old man.”

Now Dom laughed. Had to.

“You know what they say about ships in harbor.”

Dom finished the paraphrased quote for her. “A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.”

“And we’ve been in harbor way too long.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“We’re going to have to pry your cold dead hands off the Hunters before you give this org up.”

“You know me.”

“I do.” She intertwined her fingers with his again. “Just think. Wouldn’t a cold beer and a sunset like this be nice on a beach somewhere?”

“The harbor’s got water. Kind of like a beach. I can scrounge up some beers.”

Meredith elbowed him in the ribs. Dom smiled.

Truth was, he was mostly content. He’d spent his life well. He had no regrets. Maybe some choices he would’ve made differently, but he’d done more than most, lost more than most, lived more than most. Through it all, his daughters—Kara and Sadie—had survived.

Plus, he had Meredith. It had taken a near apocalypse for them to connect. But they had done it, and she was still here too. Not a bad hand in life. At least he wasn’t a Skull wandering the wilderness, mindlessly searching for prey.

Still, he wasn’t ready to leave the game. No, as long as he was breathing, he was going to keep fighting.

A knock at the bridge hatch broke him from his revery. He turned to see his youngest daughter standing in the doorway, the dying sunlight playing off her auburn hair. It was hard to believe she’d been a girl, preteen, when the Tide swept the world. Now she was anything but, a young woman in overalls, grease stains over her chest and face.

“Sadie,” Dom said. “Something up?”

“Yeah, I came in my Sunday finest to enjoy the sunset and catch up on gossip. You?”

“Are you too old for me to ground you?” Dom asked.

“You going to take away my cell phone?” Sadie countered. “Because the service sucks anyway.” Then Sadie’s face broke into a huge smile. “Nah, Dad, something’s up in the engine room. A fuel pump is acting up.”

“You know what to do.”

“I think. But I’d prefer if you have a look before I go wrenching everything up and next thing you know, we’re at the bottom of the Long Island Sound, everyone swimming for shore.”

“You got it.” Dom turned to Meredith. “See? I’m still useful up here. Florida can wait.”

-6-

Kara leaned over the glass counter, studying the wrinkled maps Tressler had spread out. He used a thick, calloused finger to circle the generally green area around Buchanan State Forest to the north of the Pennsylvania-Maryland Border and the Green Ridge State Forest just south of it.

“We lost three people out this way,” he said. “Roselyn Grace, Hudson Smith, and Maureen Davis.”

“How long ago?”

Kara had seen the poster for Roselyn. Judging by the photo plastered on it, the young woman was in her early twenties. She had a hard face, but she was pretty enough. Kara knew that some people succumbed far too easily to their baser instincts when the law was hard to enforce. Knew what it was like to be a younger woman dealing with unkind people unrestrained by normal society. She tried to push aside the horrifying possibilities of Roselyn’s fate.

“Rosie went missing two weeks ago,” Tressler said.

Two weeks might as well have been a year. Might have been a decade. But Kara said nothing.

“Hudson didn’t show up to work at the paper mill about a week ago. Maureen’s a nurse at the clinic. Didn’t show up the same day Hudson went missing, and no one’s heard from her.”

“They got family?”

“Roselyn’s got a sister who doesn’t know a thing. That’s about it.”

Strike number two for these folks. Hardly any family? No one to protect them?

Sure, Kara was a loner nowadays, but she knew how to survive on her own. It was something most people were horribly unprepared to do. If there was one thing she learned from her dad, it was survival. Kara wouldn’t have made it as far as she had without his lessons. She felt sorry for those who didn’t have a teacher like him.

“You said you sent out search parties,” Kara said.

“We did. But none of us are survivalists or professionals.”

“You’re saying they might’ve missed something.”

Tressler glanced around the room, lowering his voice so those gathered in the makeshift community center didn’t overhear him. “Guarantee it.”

“You think Skulls are involved?”

“Or Hybrids.”

“Proof?”

Tressler worked his jaw for a moment. “You’ll see.”

“Calling this a Skull problem is one thing. Hybrids are a whole other beast. Literally. Figuratively.”

Tressler gave her a slight nod. “Don’t I know it. Look, I got nothing against ‘em personally. You ever faced any?”

“Many.” Kara didn’t want to regale him with every time she’d seen a Hybrid.

Hybrids were people. They had the minds of a normal human. The body of a Skull. When the Tide was nearing its end, the Russians that had unleashed the initial Oni Agent decided to up the ante by developing another biological agent that made people look like Skulls, their bones twisting and mutating but without the prion component that made them lose their minds.

Instead, they used this on their own soldiers to turn them into monstrous beasts that would actually follow orders. In a desperate attempt to have their way with the world, the Russians released the Heikegani Agent to turn average people into Hybrids. Of course, the whole mutating bone thing caused a tremendous amount of pain. The Russians dangled a treatment, an ameliorative medicine, in front of them, promising if they followed the Russians’ orders, they would help stop the ceaseless agony.

Fortunately, pharmaceutical developments by the United States and its European allies eventually yielded a compound that could eliminate early Heikegani Agent infections, just like they’d done with the Oni Agent. Part of their developments resulted in Halo, a medicine that could be used to relieve the negative side effects of a Hybrid’s Heikegani Agent infection.

Over the years, Hybrids had been ostracized for their monstrous appearance. Some communities allowed them to integrate, leading normal lives—or as normal as could be for someone with a skeletal system that had rebelled against normal physiological and anatomical limitations. Most still feared that the average Hybrid would start acting like a Skull at any moment.

Kara knew this was an impossibility, but try convincing someone who’d seen their neighbors torn to shreds by Skulls to feel all lovey-dovey toward the Hybrid neighbor that replaced them. Not going to happen.

“I haven’t seen Hybrids around these parts in years,” Kara said. “Most stick within their communities to the west. Or you see them in bigger cities. But what makes you think a Hybrid would’ve taken these three people?”

“Because I didn’t think Skulls were smart enough to kidnap someone and leave nothing behind.”

“Okay, then why Skulls or Hybrids?”

“We found claw marks,” Tressler said, “in Rosie’s place. Then… just wait. Wilson will show you at the drop-off point.”

Kara still wasn’t convinced, but she wasn’t about to get in a debate with Tressler. Her job was to find these three missing individuals. Dead or alive. Bring closure to their families. “Better get going, then.”

“Sun’s setting.”

“I’m aware of the time.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Look, if these are Hybrids or people, better if I track them in the dark. If they’re Skulls, then it doesn’t really matter if it’s day or not. They’re going to make themselves known and come after me like a pack of schoolchildren when the ice cream truck rolls in.”

Tressler looked her up and down again. He’d been doing that a lot today. As if he still didn’t believe she was Kara Holland, daughter of Dom Holland and skilled Hunter. “You sure about that, miss?”

“Positive.”

Then Tressler straightened. He offered his hand, and Kara met it in a tight handshake. “Best of luck to you, then. Wilson will take you down the road. Probably don’t want to take your horse where you’re going.”

“You all going to take care of him?”

Tressler’s beard and mustache bristled as he smiled. “We got a couple of people around here who raise horses. He’ll be in good hands if you—I mean, when you—get back.”

Kara gave him a tip of her hat as she headed toward the exit. She loved doing that. Sure, it felt a little cheesy, like she was in some Western flick, but it gave her a certain confidence. A feeling of nonchalance. Like she belonged here.

“Truck’s down the street,” Wilson said.

They were loaded up in minutes. Kara had all the gear she needed in her pack already, along with her weapons. The truck’s headlights split the night as they started north out of town.

The streets were nearly empty, with only a few people scurrying between buildings. Flickering light spread from some of the house and apartment windows. Looked like tonight was one of those nights when the city didn’t have enough electricity, so candles it was.

As they left town, a lone woman stood off the side of the road next to a fire burning in a trash can and waved a sign that Kara couldn’t quite make out.

“What’s that about?” Kara asked.

“Children of Kusanagi,” Wilson said. “We don’t let them hang around town, so they send people right up to the edge to bother us instead.”

Kara massaged the bridge of her nose. “I don’t get them. They just want to let the Oni Agent work its way through the population, killing everyone.”

“All about the ecosystem or some shit, right?”

Kara nodded. She’d met plenty of the Children. “You know much about them?”

“Nothing good.”

“Eh, not much good to say.”

They were quiet for a couple minutes, which was fine by Kara, who was used to her own thoughts.

Apparently not Wilson. “What’s their point?” he finally asked.

“The Children?”

“Yeah.”

“The name’s from a sword in Japanese folklore.”

“Probably got all inspired by Japanese crap because of the Oni Agent and that… the H-one.”

“Heikegani Agent,” Kara said. “The one that causes Hybrids.”

“Yeah. All those Japanese demon names. What’s the kusa-thing about?”

“Basically, it was a divine sword. ‘Grasscutter’ in English. It was considered the embodiment of courage.”

“Doesn’t seem very courageous to let Skulls kill people.”

“That’s not the way the Children look at it. They view the Skulls as the sword itself, the means by which to bravely halt humanity’s excess. Cut the extra grass, if you will, so that nature and the world return to homeostasis and whatnot.”

“You lost me with the homeo stuff.”

“They believe the weakest of humanity is being culled still, and that if you join their ranks, you can be part of the new resurgence, when Earth and nature and all that reaches some kind of balance.”

“Doesn’t seem to me there’s much of humanity left to be worried, whether you’re a tree hugger or not.”

“Cults aren’t really known for their logic, are they?”

Wilson let out a harsh laugh. “Got me there. Either way, the Children are annoying as hell. I’m surprised the Skulls haven’t already finished them off.”

Their conversation died, and Wilson didn’t try to resurrect it again until they were about twenty minutes out of town, when the smell of carrion and rot began seeping into the truck cab.

A million alarms erupted in Kara’s mind. The distinct smell of decaying meat usually came with a pack of wandering Skulls. She reached for her rifle, propping it up on her lap.

“Nah, it’s not the Skulls,” Wilson said. He pulled off the road, directing the truck’s headlights past a barbed wire fence. “It’s them.”

The lights gleamed over a herd of cattle. Even from here, the headlights illuminated clouds of flies. None of the cattle were alive. Kara didn’t bother getting out of the car. The poor animals had been eviscerated.

“That’s why Tressler thinks Skulls or Hybrids were involved.” Wilson crossed himself, muttering a silent prayer before continuing. “Must be a small pack around here or maybe some desperate Hybrids that needed a meal.”

“They wasted so much.”

“Tragedy. Tressler didn’t tell the town yet.”

“Why?”

“Because people would panic.”

“No shit. If they got Skulls on their doorstep, they’re right to panic.”

“No, not just about the Skulls.” Wilson took a deep breath. “Crop yields are looking low this year.”

“Already? We’re midsummer.”

“Lot of ‘em are dying out. Some kind of blight. Couple that with a herd of cattle killed in cold blood like this, tainted from the Skulls, food’s going to be tight this winter.”

“You got to tell the state and the feds.”

“We have,” Wilson said. “But they didn’t offer too much help. Where do you think their food supplies come from? Places like us. Rumor has it others are experiencing the same thing we are.”

“You know that for sure?”

“Don’t know anything for sure anymore.”

Wilson backed up and turned on the highway again. It took just a few more minutes before they were at the north end of the Green Ridge State Forest.

“This is where we found a set of footprints. Some of ‘em with claws.” He parked the truck on the side of the road. “Trails led everywhere. Recent rains washed most away, but maybe you can pick them up.” He turned to look at her. “You look like a nice girl, and it’s even nicer of you to help. You know you don’t got to do this, right?”

“I know.” She opened the passenger side door. “But if I don’t, who will?”

-7-

The drive from Norwich toward New Haven was about as quiet as could be. Miguel and the team followed Route 1 through coastal town after coastal town. Most were inhabited, yet a shadow of their former selves. But all the same, a sign that civilization was recovering. Or at least that was how Miguel liked to interpret it.

He hadn’t expected to run in to a Skull tonight. Most of the time, they found the beasts long after they’d transformed. But this guy had been midtransformation. Which meant either he’d been locked away in that walk-in cooler for a matter of days or, more likely, had so much Oni Agent swarming his system that the transformation had happened in a matter of hours.

That was shit luck.

Had the team gotten there earlier, had someone found that poor guy this morning, he might’ve been helped. The Phoenix Compound could’ve stopped the transformations.

Ah, who was he kidding?

Miguel shook his head, letting the air rush over him as he sat in the truck bed next to Navid. That guy was half dead already, his insides too mashed up and butchered for even the best doc in New England to put together. Humpty Dumpty had fallen, and he wasn’t getting put back together again.

The guy was a dead man walking when they found him. Or dead man crawling.

“Rough day,” Navid said over the howl of the wind.

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“Better tomorrow.”

“Hope so.”

Miguel eyed the duffel bag at their feet. It contained all the data and information that Murdock Ag had given them permission to take. They’d even been allowed to collect a few extra vials in coolers filled with liquid nitrogen.

“If something’s in those samples, if there’s some clue why the ag company was attacked, we’ll find it,” Navid said.

Miguel couldn’t tell who Navid was trying to reassure. Probably both. “You did good, bud.”

Navid nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Seriously, remember when we found you in Boston?” Miguel asked.

“That’s not something I can forget.”

“Holed up all alone. Scared like a rabbit. You looked like some scrawny nerdy kid, and now… Bro, I might mistake you for a real, honest-to-God soldier.”

“Well, don’t. Because you guys got that covered. I’ll stick with the lab work.”

“You can handle your own now,” Miguel said. “That’s all that matters.”

“Nah, not just about handling my own.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s an ‘us’ thing. Teamwork, all that. I don’t want to be the weak link who can barely keep himself alive like back then. I know I’m not an operator, but I don’t want you guys babysitting me when we do a lab like that.”

“Shoot, Navid. Then you got that covered. I’d trust a guy like you outside the wire any day. Hell, if I was back downrange, cleaning up insurgents in their mountain hidey-holes, I’d be glad to have you watch my six.”

“Jeez, Miguel, you wanna buy me dinner too?” Navid laughed.

“Didn’t mean to go all soft on you.”

“Nah, just busting your balls. I’m just glad I’m not dragging you guys down. You know—”

A gunshot popped off somewhere to their right.

Navid straightened.

Miguel hoisted up his rifle. He wrapped his knuckles on the rear window, and it slid open. Jenna poked out.

“You hear that?” Miguel asked.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” she replied.

Three more gunshots. A fourth followed, this one louder and deeper. Shotgun blast.

“I know we shouldn’t,” Miguel said.

“We can’t help ourselves, though, can we?” Jenna said.

She leaned back into the cab. Andris yanked hard on the wheel, taking them on a street heading north. They whipped past a couple of decaying city blocks, some with tattered signs. Actual streetlights burned away the darkness.

More gunfire sounded ahead. Definitely closer.

Then came the screams. They passed an old Dairy Queen turned into a diner, then a brewing company. That was where the people were.

A stage had been set up in the parking lot of Coastal Brewing. Beer was one of the thriving businesses in America. Something to do when the TV and electricity went out. And on that stage were some guitars and drums that had been abandoned. People were running, scattering from something. Maybe thirty, forty people, Miguel guessed.

Under the lights lining the parking lot, he spotted two police officers lying in the pavement, shadows of blood spreading from their body. A shotgun lay next to one, a pistol beside the other.

Miguel hopped out of the bed of the truck before it stopped and was racing straight toward the sounds of ripping flesh.

His blood ran cold.

He hadn’t seen one this old, this transformed, in a couple years. But there it was, in all its horrible glory.

At first, Miguel didn’t want to take a shot. Not until he was close. Because if those officers were still alive, then he didn’t want to unintentionally shoot them.

The cries of the crowd faded behind him as his mind switched in to battle mode. He heard bootsteps. Andris and Jenna were running after him.

“Watch the crowd!” he said. “I got this one!”

“On it!” Jenna shouted, retreating.

Someone needed to take control of the people, because where there was one Skull, there were usually more. And right now, they had a fleeing crowd of panicked buffet offerings. Anyone running toward the nearby trees or down the street might race headlong into a beast. Miguel and the crew couldn’t help them if they weren’t around. Better to keep them all close.

“Stay with us!” Andris shouted.

“By me!” Navid bellowed. Sounded like he was still in the truck.

Miguel’s finger went from his trigger guard to the trigger. The cop’s body was jerking beneath the Skull. He couldn’t tell if that was because the beast was eating him or if the guy was still alive.

“Hey, asshole! Come and get this!” he roared at the Skull.

The monster’s head twitched up. It uncoiled to its full height.

Miguel gulped.

The Skull was every bit as ugly as he remembered. Unlike the man they’d found in the lab, this one had spent years with the Oni Agent sculpting it into a grotesque abomination. The last remnants of its humanity were strips of rotting cloth, a specter of a person who’d once thought and talked and lived a normal life. Bony bumps jutted from the monster’s brow. Its cheekbones pressed taut against the thin membranes of its flesh. Curved fangs hooked out of its misshapen mouth. Even in the glow of the streetlamps, its dark blood vessels stood stark against its sallow, gray flesh. Its shoulder blades had long since burst from its weakened skin and were so overgrown they looked like the vestiges of a fallen angel’s wings.

Every rib burgeoned beyond natural anatomical diameters and lengths, curving out of the monster’s chest, the skin crumpled and rippling around them. Plates of organic armor were etched with the scrapes and scratches of years spent surviving beyond the comforts of civil society. Each fingerbone erupted from the tips of the Skull’s fingers, scything into claws. Its mouth tore open, and its guttural howl shook every bone in Miguel’s body.

For the briefest moment, Miguel’s mind turned to the horrific changes this person had endured to become this beast. The Oni Agent had plagued humanity for over ten years now. If this creature was any indication, it still hadn’t let go of the world. Had no intention of doing so.

Besides the decrepit pieces of fabric clinging to its spikes and bone plates, the beast was naked. Man or woman, Miguel couldn’t tell who the Skull had once been. He did know one thing, though. Killing this person would be a mercy. The creature charged, claws outspread, mouth still open in an unholy screech.

Miguel steadied his aim over the center mass of the creature and started to pull the trigger when something slammed against the side of his face. Pain flared through his jaw, his vision going white for a moment.

He wasn’t sure what hit him or why. Before he could turn to see who or what had attacked him, the Skull was on him.

The beast lunged, claws hitting the armor plates of his tac vest. The sheer, relentless force of its raw momentum knocked him backward onto the pavement. He squeezed the trigger. Bullets lanced uselessly into the sky as the beast bore down on him.

It stabbed its claws at his heart again, the claws shrieking against the armor plates. Its mouth snapped at his face. Spittle flew across his cheek as he dodged its bites. Dropping his rifle, he squeezed its throat with his right hand, holding the monster back.

Over and over the monster bit at him. Every snap of the creature’s powerful jaws got closer to Miguel’s face. He turned his head to the side, desperate to keep himself from becoming the thing’s next meal. It was strong. Pressing on him with animalistic strength.

He heard gunshots from behind. More animalistic screeches. Given the monster was still trying to devour him, he figured Jenna and Andris were dealing with other Skulls. Just like he thought.

The monster tried to claw his face. Miguel blocked a powerful strike with his prosthetic hand. Claws cracked against his arm, ripping into the silicone outer layer. When the beast went for another killing blow, Miguel jerked up his prosthetic, right into the beast’s face. The monster took the bait. It tried to snap a chunk out of Miguel’s fake fingers, its teeth penetrating the silicone and grating over the metal beneath. But one twist of his arm and the eight-inch blade hidden within the prosthetic slid smoothly out. It stabbed right up between the creature’s teeth.

Miguel shoved his hand forward, feeling a slight hint of resistance. The monster flailed, trying to jerk back. Then Miguel punched the blade through. Hot liquid poured from the monster’s mouth, spilling over Miguel’s chest. The creature went slack, its brain stem pierced. It collapsed on top of Miguel. Adrenaline still pumping through him, he shoved the beast off, flesh and blood still dripping from his tac vest.

Recovering his rifle, he rose to his feet, swinging his weapon around, searching for more hostiles. The crowd was mostly sequestered around the truck. Jenna and Andris were swiveling on their heels at the edge of the screaming people. A few dead Skulls lay scattered in the parking lot. Riven bullet holes were carved into their bony plates. Each was smaller than the one Miguel had just dispatched but no less frightening.

Anger flowed through him like a tornado through a barn full of cows. He was a trained operator. Experienced with Skulls. One lone beast shouldn’t have put him on his ass. But whatever had hit him in the side of the face was something he hadn’t expected. If Miguel had learned one thing in this postapocalyptic world, it was to always expect the unexpected. Cliché, but true.

He spotted the rock on the ground. It was baseball sized. Kind of like he’d thought when it hit him. Reaching up to his face, he felt the hot sticky liquid on his cheekbone. This wasn’t the creature’s blood, though. It was his.

“The fu…” He swiveled around toward the trees lining the parking lot.

Don’t tell me a Skull flung that.

It hadn’t.

Nope, there was some asshole dude with disheveled hair and a goatee standing not twelve feet away, another rock in his hand. He wore a dingy white T-shirt with a black sword painted across it.

Children of Kusanagi. Those relentlessly stupid cultists.

“Put your hands up right now!” Miguel said.

The guy cocked back the rock. “You are interfering with our Creator’s plan! You’re playing God!”

“Put your fucking hands up!” Miguel shouted.

The cultist’s face was contorted in pure fury. He looked angrier than the Skull. “You should never have interfered!”

“Did you do this?” Miguel shouted. “Did you lead the Skulls to these people?”

“I am a follower of—!”

The man didn’t see it coming. But Miguel did. Navid came right up behind the guy, hammering the stock of his MP5 into the back of the cultist’s skull. The guy went down like a sack of rotten potatoes.

Navid was panting, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Miguel, sorry I was so late.”

“Don’t be,” Miguel said. “Cuff his ass. If he’s still alive, we need to bring him down to the state police. I’m sure they’re going to have questions for him.”

“You got it.” Navid yanked the guy’s wrists behind his back, securing them.

Jenna and Andris were shouting to the crowd to stay where they were. Miguel kept his head and rifle on a swivel, searching the darkness for more cultists or monsters.

“I can’t believe this asshole hit you with that rock,” Navid said, pressing his knee against the cultist’s back. He put his index finger and middle finger up to the guy’s neck. “He’s still breathing.”

Navid stood, this time scanning the rest of the parking lot. “Seriously, why do these people want to watch the world burn? We have a cure. We can fix the Oni Agent. We don’t have to live with it.”

Miguel tightened his jaw, speaking through clenched teeth. “A cure doesn’t mean everything’s fixed. It just means people who want to be fixed get fixed. The ones that want to stay broken, stay broken.”

-8-

Kara walked at a crouch in the dark forest, pushing through the understory of dogwood trees. Their fragrant flowers mixed with the sharp odor of the towering pine trees and the earthy, mossy smell of the abundant oaks.

Carefully, she padded between the vegetation, the tactical flashlight with a red filter guiding her. The red light helped preserve her night vision and reduced her visibility compared to a blinding white beam. A normal flashlight like that may as well have been a beacon.

Footsteps were sometimes hard to find in the loamy soil with the frequent summer rain washing them away. But game trails were another story.

She’d hunted with her father plenty when they were young. It was how she became a good shot before she’d even trained with his team of mercs. At the time, the closest most of her friends had been to a gun was their brothers’ GI Joe action figures. Sure, it wasn’t usual for a girl growing up in Maryland to go hunting and shooting as much as she did, but those days when her dad wasn’t off on business—which she’d later learned was code for covert ops work—she relished any opportunity to spend time with him.

Hunting hadn’t just come with lessons on how to pull a trigger. She’d learned to read the forest like she read a book, interpreting each broken branch, scraped chunk of bark, and footprint as an individual story that told her what an animal was up to and where it was headed.

Over the past ten years, she’d had ample opportunity to hone those skills. Only instead of seeking a deer to harvest and feed the family, she searched for people mutated by a bioweapon, turned into bloodthirsty monsters. Monsters who were indeed apex predators, nearly outcompeting humanity.

In fact, they were so good at their job, she’d seen a pack of five or six Skulls tear apart a group of thirty panicked people in minutes. Most of the time, the Skulls only feasted after they’d destroyed every living target in their path.

However, over time, it seemed the Skulls had adapted. When she spotted them nowadays, they were no longer as dull as the infected masses had initially been years ago. Maybe that was because the smartest Skulls had survived the longest. Or maybe the Oni Agent had mutated over the years like the flu virus. The nanobacteria may have evolved to produce less dramatic neurological changes, possibly preserving some of the intelligence of a normal human mind. That might help the Skull-host survive longer for the Oni Agent to further propagate.

There was a point after the Tide when Kara considered spending her time in the lab instead of in the field. She wanted to find answers to questions like that. But the more time she spent on the Bethany with the Hunters, the less she could see herself at a lab bench for the rest of her life.

So here she was delving through the woods at night in hopes of sneaking up on a nest of sleeping Skulls. They were neither nocturnal nor diurnal. Skulls slept when they wanted, hunted when hungry, and attacked when provoked. They were unpredictable.

But one behavior she hadn’t expected of them was kidnapping three human adults—and keeping them alive.

Sure, she’d tracked down people who’d been killed by Skulls. Found remnants of their clothes. Or in some cases, she’d found them half chewed up in the middle of going full-blown Skull.

But she’d never found a living human chilling with a bunch of Skulls.

No matter how much the Oni Agent and Skulls seemed to have changed over the years, that was something she couldn’t believe.

A few broken branches drew her attention. They looked freshly splintered as she rolled them between her fingers. Nearby, she spotted bark scraped from the tree trunk.

Good.

Wilson was right. Skulls had been through this way. Though their clawed footsteps were few and far between in the dense carpet of needles, leaves, and twisting roots, the marks they left on the trees might as well have been highway mile markers.

The Skulls weren’t often stealthy. Though they were strong and fast, they were a bit clumsy. Their overgrown bones and claws had a habit of getting tangled in and tearing up the local vegetation. The trail was as clear as daylight.

Kara wondered if perhaps Tressler’s search parties were wholly inept… or if they’d chickened out, too spooked in their search to continue.

She didn’t blame them. Tressler had sent them on a foolhardy mission. Practically suicide coming into the forest to search for Skulls if you didn’t know what you were doing. Most people really didn’t know what it was like to face Skulls in the wilderness.

She picked her way through a scratchy bush that was half trampled.

Tressler might’ve wanted to believe the cattle slaughter was caused by Hybrids instead of Skulls because that was the only way Roselyn and the other two missing people would still be alive. Hybrids were humans for all intents and purposes, just with horribly mutated bodies. And if there was a desperate group of Hybrids out here, they might kidnap people.

But why?

She sighed as she pushed through the forest. So many broken branches. So many scratched-up trees. No, Hybrids wouldn’t have left a trail like this.

This was Skulls.

No doubt.

A humid breeze rattled the leaves. She froze. Besides the musky odor of the forest, she detected something else. A stink. Like carrion.

The hairs on her arms stood straight. Her fingers wrapped tighter around her rifle, sweat coating her palms.

The smell of decay was either a rotting animal or Skulls ahead. Either way, death waited.

She treaded more lightly, listening for the sounds of anything breathing or the telltale crunch of leaves and sticks.

Then as the smell grew stronger, she froze. Turned her light off. Her eyes didn’t take long to adjust to the moonlight permeating through the branches thanks to the red filter.

She waited a few minutes. No need to rush. Rushing into Skulls was a great way to get yourself a claw in the stomach and teeth in the neck.

That was when she heard it.

The soft treading of another living creature. Not heavy and clomping like a Skull after prey.

Then again, maybe the Skull hadn’t spotted her yet. Maybe it didn’t know it was closing in on her, hence why it hadn’t yet come screeching out of the woods.

She hid next to a tree. The branches and bushes helped conceal her as she shrank into the vegetation. Waiting. Watching.

A dark shape shifted through the trees. Maybe just ten yards away. It was headed her way. Almost as if it were stalking her. She couldn’t quite make out if it were a Skull or Hybrid or what. It was definitely humanoid.

Slowly, she lifted her rifle. The shape moved closer.

Her heartbeat accelerated, pulse thudding heavily in her ears. Confronting an unknown stalker was not how she wanted to begin her trek.

Her follower stepped into a pane of white moonlight.

It wasn’t a Skull or hybrid. But a man. Looked to be late twenties or early thirties, a prominent jawline covered in stubble. Wavy hair hung out from under a ballcap. His eyes were wide, his head on a swivel. He had a dingy 70 L camping backpack with a bedroll secured on the bottom.

And he carried a scoped hunting rifle.

Why was he following her? Should she just hide and let him go?

It couldn’t be a coincidence that he was out here. The only logical conclusion was he was either hunting the same alleged Skulls or Hybrids as she was, or he was hunting her.

If he was after the same quarry, he might ruin her own mission.

If he was after her and she just let him go, then how long before he picked up her trail again? She would have to retreat out of the woods.

For that matter, what if this guy had something to do with the disappearance of those three people? What if he was trying to clean up loose ends?

Nah, she wasn’t going to wait this one out. She wanted answers. Now.

She rose slowly from the bush. Her rifle’s sights never strayed from the guy’s chest.

In a hissing whisper, she said, “Stop. Right there.”

The guy turned in her direction then stumbled backward in fear, dropping his weapon as he dropped on his ass. He scrambled backward on his hands and feet, his movements kicking up a spray of branches.

“Quiet!” Kara hissed. She looked toward her left.

The man’s frightened movements might attract a Skull. She lunged toward him, landing on his chest and pressing him into the dirt. She let her rifle fall on its strap then tore out a knife, pressed it to his throat, and put her other hand over his mouth.

“Don’t say a damn thing,” she whispered.

She could practically hear his heart trying to leap from his chest. He stayed there, not moving the entire time she waited, listening for Skulls or Hybrids. She waited. And waited.

The guy’s heartbeat started to settle, the visible throbbing in his throat slowing.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice low.

“Wanna remove that knife?” he mumbled with a distinct West Virginian accent.

“Not particularly.” She removed her hand slowly.

He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Caleb. Caleb Graham.”

“Why are you following me, Caleb?”

His eyes darted back and forth. “Sure we should be having this conversation here?”

“Quicker you answer my questions, sooner we can leave.” She paused. “At least, one of us will be leaving.”

“Look, ma’am—”

“Kara. I doubt I’m much older than you. If I’m older.”

“Miss Kara, I don’t mean no harm.”

“Stalking me with a gun. Don’t mean no harm?”

“I was afraid.”

“Of me?”

“Yessum. And the Skulls. The Hybrids. The people of Cumberland, even.”

“Explain.”

“The knife? Please? It’ll be easier.”

She shifted her knife a couple inches from his throat. Just far enough so he could swallow without her shaving off his stubble. Close enough he couldn’t do much. And if he tried something, he wouldn’t last long.

Sweat rolled down Caleb’s forehead. “I followed you because I thought something bad was going to happen.”

“Plenty of bad things happen every day.”

“No, I mean. Look. Okay. Let me start over. A whole mess of weird things have been happening around Cumberland. I’ve been there… three months or so now. I became a friend of Rosie’s. Came out to search for her myself.”

The way he said her name sparked something in Kara. Had he really just been a friend? Something more? A few months wasn’t long to form a friendship worth risking your life over.

“Thing is, I didn’t have no luck. I thought I could find her. I tried. God’s honest truth. But I ain’t no professional. Not like you.”

“I’m a pro?”

He sounded sheepish, and she thought if it was daylight, his cheeks would’ve been burning scarlet. “Tressler wouldn’t have hired you if you weren’t.”

Kara doubted that. Tressler had seemed desperate. But she wasn’t about to correct this guy.

“When Wilson took off with you, I knew where he was going,” Caleb continued. “Followed your trail in the woods.”

Of course, she hadn’t tried to conceal her path. Skulls weren’t smart enough to follow anything but sounds and smells and the immediate sight of prey. Tracking someone by footprints? Not in their design. But they would’ve led Caleb right to her.

“I thought I lost ya. I just want to help.”

“You trying to kill me, Caleb?” She figured this guy didn’t seem like much of an actor. Might as well come right out and say it. Dealing with men and women of all types, she’d learned how to read a person.

“God, no. I swear on the Holy Bible. I ain’t trying to kill no one unless they deserve it.”

“If you don’t want to kill anyone, you better learn how to stay a hell of a lot quieter.” She got off his chest and extended a hand. At first, she thought he might brush her help off, him being some kind of macho man or something. Instead, he took her help and pulled himself up, brushing the leaves and dirt from his shirt and pants.

For a moment, Kara considered telling him to go back to the road. To wait for her out there. But this guy had that puppy dog look. Like he wanted desperately for some human connection.

“You want to go with.” She said it more as a statement than a question. She knew the answer.

He confirmed it with a nod. “Look, I don’t know why these people have been missing around Cumberland. There have been a lot of ‘em recently.”

“More than three?”

“Did Tressler tell you only three?”

“Yup.”

“Yeah, more than three. A whole mess of ‘em. Maybe ten, fifteen. People just pick up and leave. No one knows why.”

Kara had some idea. In a small town, kept secrets were about as rare as a dodo bird. And if Wilson had told her about the food shortage, whispers around town must’ve spread that news too. Who in their right mind would wait around until winter to find out the rumors were true and the bellies were going to be empty?

“You know about the food shortage?” Kara asked.

“Whole country’s hungry. What’s new?”

“I mean in Cumberland.”

“Plenty in the stores.”

“I heard it’s not going to stay that way.”

“Oh. That important or something?”

“Yeah, it’s important. Maybe some of the people left because of it.”

“But then why send you out here?” Caleb asked.

“Good question. Want to find out?”

Caleb nodded.

“Watch my back. But if you try anything funny…”

“Mama told me I was serious as a cowboy as a kid. Never learned how to be funny.”

“That supposed to be funny?”

“Just saying. I got your back if you got mine.”

“Besides getting scared, you got any skills?” Kara eyed his rifle.

“Believe it or not, I can shoot this thing. Picked up a whole mess of first aid skills since the Tide too. Fashioned myself as a kind of medic.”

“Medic? Really?”

He patted his backpack. “Gauze, antibiotics, you name it, I got it. Besides the hard stuff. Hard to get ahold of morphine, right?”

Okay. Maybe Caleb could be useful. “You good at listening too?”

He flicked one of his ears. “You don’t get ears this big for no reason.”

“Thought you said you weren’t funny.”

“Sometimes I’m wrong about things.”

“Good enough.” Kara turned back toward the bowels of the forest. “Let’s go find some Skulls.”

-9-

Dom watched as Sadie showed him the various pieces of the fuel injector she’d deconstructed. The workbench in the ship’s engine room was covered in a viscous layer of grease.

“What have you done so far?” he asked.

“I think the nozzle’s blocked,” Sadie said. “Or maybe the inlet passage.”

“You flushed them both.”

“Doing the best I can.”

Dom picked up the solenoid. Sadie had kept it on a separate part of the bench, safe from contaminants. “Looks good to me. You did a fine job with everything.”

“You think?”

“I know.” Dom put the solenoid down. “Might as well start putting it back together.”

“You going to help?” she asked.

Sometimes, despite the fact that she was a fully grown woman, he couldn’t help seeing her as his little girl. Especially when she asked for help. As much as he wanted to take her step-by-step through the process, she needed to do this on her own.

“You can do it.”

“Seriously?” she asked.

“Seriously.”

She took a deep breath then slowly started reassembling the injector, piece by piece, methodically putting it back together. The whole contraption was as big as her arm, but she handled it well. Occasionally, she looked back at him as if for reassurance. He just shrugged.

“You’re not going to tell me if I’m doing it right?” she asked.

“I want you to figure it out on your own.”

Truthfully, she was doing just fine. Sadie didn’t have a formal marine engineering degree or certification, but she may as well have earned one. She’d learned well from the ship’s engineers. And if she’d messed something up, he would’ve told her. No use destroying a multimillion-dollar engine just so she could learn from her mistakes.

But she didn’t do anything wrong. She got all the way to replacing the O-rings around the injector and applying lubricant to the pintle cap before she spoke.

“You sure this is okay?” she asked.

“You?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m serious, Dad.”

“Me too.”

“I think it’s good.”

“You think or you know? Because those are two very different things, and when—”

“When you’re stranded in the ocean, you better know which way is closest to shore, or you’ll become shark bait. Don’t look at me like you’re shocked. You love saying that.”

Dom couldn’t help but laugh. He patted the back of her work suit. “You got it.”

Sadie shirked away. “Ew, you’re going to get grease all over me.”

He busted up laughing again. Sadie wasn’t a tomboy, but she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty either. And right now, it was a hell of a lot more than just her hands covered in oil and grease and only God knew what from the engine room.

She smiled at him to let him know she was kidding. “Okay, not going to lie, but this part I do need some help.” She pointed at the pistons between where the injector would go. “I don’t want to drop this thing and break a toe.”

“No problem.” Dom hoisted the fuel injector up with both hands, Sadie helping as best she could. They dropped it in place, bolted it in, and reconnected the fuel hose. When everything was appropriately torqued, they took a step back.

“Ready?” Dom asked.

Sadie bit her bottom lip. “I think so.”

They put on their earmuffs. Didn’t take long before they had the engine started up again. Its throaty rumble filled the engine room, rocking through the bulkhead and into Dom’s bones. He gave Sadie a thumbs-up, and she shot back a proud smile. Then he gestured for them to make their way back up to the main corridor where they could talk again.

“Good work,” he said. “I knew you had it.”

“Did you?”

“No question about it. How’s it feel to be a marine engineer?”

Sadie shrugged.

Dom beckoned her to the mess. As good a time as any to get a coffee. He wasn’t going back to his quarters tonight until the rest of the Hunters had returned from their mission.

“I always thought I’d be a bioengineer,” Sadie said, opening the hatch to the mess.

“You spent a lot of time in the labs.”

“Yeah, Sean’s been a good teacher. Navid too,” she said. “I like the labs.”

“But?”

“No but,” she said. “I think I prefer it over the engine room. Is that bad?”

“Not at all. You’ve got time to find your fit. I want you to keep trying everything. Keep learning.”

“Yeah, yeah, you always say that.”

Dom meant it. She’d traveled to more countries than most her age would have before the Tide—and more than most her age probably ever could. That being said, her international travels were very different from when Dom used to run ops across the globe. She’d seen countries from Morocco to Estonia when they were already infested by Skulls. All the culture, the food, the people that Dom used to enjoy when traveling had been replaced by bloodthirsty people mutated by the Oni Agent.

It wasn’t fair to her.

It wasn’t fair that she didn’t have an opportunity to go to school like a normal kid or that she didn’t have a chance to attend college, if that was the way she was leaning. Sure, schools had somewhat started up again, but at best, they were a poor simulacrum of what they’d been before the Tide.

All the same, he couldn’t help but think about Sadie with pride. She’d grown up in a shit situation. Could’ve turned into a shit person who had every right to complain about what life had become. Instead, she was smiling at him as she poured them both a cup of bitter coffee from the pot that had been sitting on its heater for six hours now. They sat down at one of the tables across from each other.

“You’ve done a hell of a job, Sadie. Pretty much whatever you put your mind to, you do it.”

“Don’t get cheesy on me.”

Dom sipped his coffee. “I’m not. I’m being serious.”

“You don’t think I’m just living in Kara’s shadow, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“She tried all these things too over the years. But then she went out into the field. Why would she do that?”

“You remember your mom.”

Sadie raised a brow. She held her coffee near her mouth but didn’t sip. “Yeah.”

Sadie had been just a preteen when their mom, his ex-wife Bethany, had been infected with the Oni Agent. Dom always regretted that he couldn’t be there when Bethany attacked their daughters. He couldn’t protect them from that trauma. But they were resilient. They’d grown beyond it. And when they spoke of their mother, it was never the bad memories. Always the good.

When Dom had been given the chance to name the 73-meter long, 705-ton Visby-class corvette they now called home, the girls had been adamant. They should name it the Bethany, after their mother’s sacrifice. No one protested. Even Meredith condoned it.

“Well, your mom was smarter than anyone I knew,” Dom said. “She could’ve done anything. Been anything. Like you. She read so many books you could fill a library and then some. Always learning. You take after her.”

“I was asking about Kara.”

“Kara’s more like me.”

“Kara’s smart, though.”

Dom laughed. “I swear, one of these days…”

Sadie beamed back at him. “Whatever. Mom was the genius. You were the spy.”

“Not a spy exactly.”

“Close enough. You’re saying Kara is restless.”

“A rolling stone. She doesn’t want to be anywhere long enough to grow moss.”

“Yeah, I don’t get that. I like the ship. I like knowing we’ve got a home. And I don’t think I could ever get bored here. Always something to do.”

“Yep, you sound just like your mom.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all. Not in the slightest.” He reached across the table and patted her hand. “I don’t mind you sticking around.”

“Me neither.” She gulped down a mouthful of coffee. “You think Kara will ever come back?”

Dom sighed.

“I guess you never did.”

That stung more than he liked to admit. She must’ve seen it on his face.

“I don’t mean it as a bad thing. We know you were doing good stuff around the world. I don’t hold it against you.”

“I appreciate that.” Dom pictured his last conversation with Kara and winced. Sadie pretended not to notice, burying her eyes in her coffee. “I’m sure she’ll return when she’s ready.”

“I miss her.”

“Me too.”

A flurry of footsteps sounded outside the mess. Meredith burst in with a sat phone in hand. “Dom, just got an urgent call from Thornfield.”

“What’s going on?”

“They’ve got reports of another situation in New Haven. An attack, Skulls and all, on another agriculture R&D lab.”

Dom looked at Sadie.

“Go on, Dad. We’ll finish talking later.”

Dom followed Meredith out of the mess and toward the bridge. “Where in New Haven?”

“Northeast.”

“Where’s Miguel and the team?”

“About five miles out.”

“Reroute them.”

“You think they’ll be up for it?”

“It’s Miguel, Andris, and Jenna.”

“What about Navid?”

“It’s Miguel, Andris, and Jenna,” Dom repeated with a smirk. “He won’t have a choice.” Then he let his expression grow serious. “Get them on a channel now. Brief them. If these attacks are connected, this could be a big break.”

-10-

Miguel checked his magazines as the truck sped through New Haven’s streets. Not that he’d even fired that many bullets tonight. But it was habit. The kind of ritual he performed every time he went into conflict.

Dom and Meredith had warned that this attack on yet another agriculture company might be ongoing. They needed to be ready for anything. Skulls, thieves, maybe more of those stupid cultists.

Navid was white-knuckling the lip of the truck bed as they raced past houses and parked cars. It was late. Not too many people out in the streets. Electricity kept the streetlights on.

If you squinted, you could almost pretend this was a normal neighborhood.

“Almost there!” Jenna shouted from the open rear window of the truck’s cab.

They squealed down another street, Andris making liberal use of the vehicle’s traction. Miguel stood up in the bed and braced himself with both hands on the cab’s roof. Past the suburban houses and old, knotted trees, a series of brick apartment buildings and old warehouses led to a glass-faced modern building completely incongruous with its surroundings. A blue sign glowed over the entrance to the lobby: Evergreen Solutions.

Andris brought the truck to a stop right outside a first-floor windowpane that had been pulverized to glass crystals. They’d arrived before any of the local police or military units. Reports stated the night shift had been on the production lines. A couple of researchers were pulling late hours in the lab too.

Wasn’t that always the story with these scientist types? Living in the lab until they died in the lab.

Or hopefully tonight, Miguel and company got to them before they bit it.

Miguel hopped out of the truck bed, and Navid started to do the same. “No,” Miguel said. “Guard the truck. We can’t lose this stuff.”

“You got it.”

There was a hint of relief on Navid’s face.

Yeah, Miguel wanted someone to guard the goods they’d brought back from their first lab today. And while Navid was competent, lives might be in the balance. Miguel needed a team of reliable veterans who could operate like a machine.

The team went through the broken window, leapfrogging down the hallway. The facility still had some power, but lights blinked and strobed. Broken glass crunched underfoot. The offices along the first hall were all separated by glass partitions. Most of which were broken by whoever or whatever had come storming down this hall.

They hurried past the administrative offices right toward the manufacturing rooms. From what Miguel had been told, this place packaged seeds for distribution to regional farms. The labs here weren’t involved in developing GMOs. Rather, they were mostly quality control. They tested the seeds’ vigor, viability, purity, contaminants, pathogens, and other such traits.

Jenna stopped when they reached a set of doors that led to the manufacturing warehouse. One door was already propped open. She snuck up to it, peering through the thin crack.

Miguel stacked up behind her, with Andris taking the rear.

He took one sniff of the air wafting out. His stomach curdled. The ferrous odor saturated the air. With it came the stink of emptied bowels and rot. Miguel steeled himself for what came next, said a quiet prayer, then signaled Jenna to push in.

She led through the open door at a crouch.

Miguel did a quick survey of the two-story warehouse. Most of the scaffold shelves had fallen. Huge sacks of seed had been split open. A forklift barely stuck out of the mess of seeds and shelves. Past it was a machine with a big silver funnel and a conveyor belt. Judging by the seed bags on the belt, it looked like it was used to fill bags for shipping.

And that was where he saw the graveyard-shift workers. One was sprawled on the conveyor belt, their body split open, bleeding into a pile of seeds on the floor. Past that worker lay another in stained overalls collapsed in a mixture of seeds and bags.

A Skull was crouched over them.

It hadn’t heard any of the team yet.

It dug out the insides of the deceased worker with its claws. Red saliva drooled from between the beast’s fangs. Next to it was another creature, taller and bigger than the first. Bone plates covered its naked body.

Miguel signaled to Jenna to take the beast on the left. He aimed at the one on the right.

“Execute,” he whispered.

Three whoomphs burst from his suppressed rifle. Two bullets hammered the creature’s chest, knocking it backward. The third found home right in the middle of the creature’s face. Its head flicked back, and the Skull corpse flopped against the wall.

Jenna nailed her target with expert precision. The hulking Skull slumped face-first into the person it had been eating with a wet slurp.

Miguel gestured for the team to clear the rest of the warehouse. They worked through the fallen shelves and past the piles of now-spoiled seeds and found another couple of bodies but no more Skulls.

Jenna took point as they worked their way back out into the corridor. Next stop was the laboratories and loading docks. They moved between the shadows, blending in and out, clearing offices, avoiding as much broken glass as possible.

Until a haunting howl echoed through the building.

Three more demonic voices rose up in answer.

Miguel had heard the beasts’ cries hundreds of times. Never once did they fail to send ice through his veins. “Hurry,” he said in a low voice.

Those howls signaled they had prey in their sights. Someone in this place was still alive. But that hapless soul wouldn’t survive for long with Skulls on the chase.

Miguel led the team rushing through the hallway. From another intersection came the clicking of taloned feet on tile. They pushed around a corner.

Five Skulls sprinted after something.

Miguel signaled for his comrades to open fire. Their gunshots lanced through the shadows. Bullets caught the backs of the Skulls. Chips of bone plates went flying. Two beasts slid forward on the floor, dead.

The remaining three turned, skidding on the floor slick with the blood of their brethren, their organic armor absorbing the worst of the gunfire. Crimson wept from some of the bullet holes. Their bloodshot eyes burned in a fiery rage beneath the flickering lights. One dropped to all fours. The other two stayed upright.

The monsters loped toward the Hunters. Their unearthly shrieks split the air, threatening to burst Miguel’s eardrums. He sent bullets spiking through one of the fiends. The second tripped over itself after a salvo from Jenna destroyed its legs, its body somersaulting, head splitting in a slop of gore from the deluge of rounds. The third leaped over the downed monster. Andris’s shots were just a hair too late. Bullets cracked against the tiled floor, and the beast closed in on them. It jumped again, powered by animalistic fury. Claws outstretched, it aimed right at Miguel. He tried to swing his rifle up after it, but the monster was quicker.

Instead, he sidestepped at the last second. The beast slammed against the ground. A couple of its claws broke against the floor. It started to turn back to strike, but Miguel thrust his prosthetic arm forward, the hidden blade shooting out and catching the monster at the nape of its neck.

Miguel put his weight behind his attack, and a loud snap sounded. He pressed his boot against the monster’s back and yanked out his knife. The Skull let out a rasping death rattle.

“Eyes on more hostiles?” he asked, swinging his rifle back up into this grip.

“Negative,” Jenna said.

“Clear from behind,” Andris said.

They surged through the corridor toward the labs. Had barely made it a few yards before another series of howls echoed off the walls. The scratch of claws against metal and glass.

Turning down another corridor, they found a big glass wall. The lab. Behind the wide windows, like the inhabitants of a fishbowl, two people in white coats were backed up against a lab bench filled with equipment. The pair were staring right back through the glass at three Skulls banging against it.

Jenna immediately opened fire. Bullets tore into the closest of the Skulls. The second skittered backward, turning toward them to attack. Andris hit it with a face full of lead before the creature could make another move.

The third creature broke through the glass. Shards shattered everywhere. The monster pulverized the fragments to dust as it barreled toward the two white coats. They screamed in fear, backing up against the wall. There was nowhere else for them to go.

With the beast so close to the terror-filled researchers, the team couldn’t open fire willy-nilly either.

Instead, Miguel let his rifle fall on its sling again and raced to catch up to the creature, bounding over glass and fallen lab equipment. “Hey, you ugly bastard!”

The beast didn’t care. It had locked on to its frightened prey. Its muscles began to coil, arms spreading wide, claws flashing, each sharp enough to sever flesh in one clean stroke.

Miguel jumped before the creature did. He grabbed the Skull by the back of its bony neck then threw it to the ground as hard as he could. A couple of the bony protuberances jutting from its spine broke. It scrabbled to get back to its feet, but Miguel slammed his boot hard against its wrist. More bone shattered. Flecks went flying.

Then he bent down, ready to drive his prosthetic knife into the monster’s face.

Time seemed to slow.

He was aware of more gunfire in the corridor. Muzzle flashes cut through the shadows. Agonized shrieks sounded. The battle here had brought out other beasts lurking in the facility. But now, there was just him and this abomination. He jabbed the knife forward, still covered in the blood of another Skull. The blade speared between the creature’s teeth, impaling the back of its mouth.

Miguel prepared to lever all his weight into the attack again, ready to drive it home. Instead, the creature shot its good arm up. A clawed fist caught Miguel in the chest. The blow nearly knocked the wind out of his lungs. His vision went black for just a second. The monster bit down on the knife, preventing it from sliding into the roof of its mouth.

Then it hit Miguel with another devasting blow, right into his side. His kidney. Blistering pain roiled through his gut, near paralyzing. But to succumb to agony now would be to let himself fall on his enemy’s sword.

He fought through the electricity in his nerves then kicked the monster’s jaw as hard as he could. A crunch sounded as the monster’s teeth broke. The momentary reprieve gave him just enough time to slide the blade deeper. The Skull tried to hit Miguel one last time, but by the time the clawed fist bashed against Miguel’s side, the beast was dead.

He pulled his blade out. “Andris? Jenna?”

“Clear,” they each responded, standing guard at the broken window.

“Keep watch.” He stepped toward the two white coats. Both were still shaking.

One was a man in his fifties. Portly, graying hair. He even had his name embroidered on his coat. Doctor Larry Shelton. The other was a young man in his midtwenties. No honorific in front of his name. His dark hair was matted in sweat, his nut-brown eyes wide with fear. Drew Crane.

“Doctor Shelton, you okay?” Miguel asked the older man.

The man nodded, lips pressed tight.

“No wounds? No scratches?”

The man held up his hands as if to show Miguel he was clean.

“Drew?”

The other guy ignored him.

“Drew, you good, bud?” Miguel tried again.

Then the younger guy shook his head as if in a stupor. He looked down at the name on his coat. “Oh, I’m not Drew. I’m Greg. Greg Hooper. I was just wearing Drew’s coat. Mine was dirty, and—”

“Hey, bud, let’s focus. I don’t give two shits about your lab coat. I’m here to get you guys to safety.”

“Who are you people?” Shelton asked, his voice raspy.

From what Miguel could tell, the guy was still in shock, barely processing what was going on.

“Hunters,” Miguel said. “Maybe you heard of us. Contractors. Work for the military. Intelligence. All that jazz.”

“Yes, but you’re not really military, right?” Shelton asked like they were just having a normal conversation, and he hadn’t been seconds from getting his face eaten.

The guy was definitely in shock.

“Tomato, tom-ah-to,” Miguel said. “Look, you guys want to get out of here?”

They both nodded.

“We weren’t supposed to be attacked like this,” Hooper said. “I can’t believe… I can’t believe so many came.”

“Yeah, welcome to the apocalypse. I need you to help me out. How many Skulls did you see?”

Shelton pointed at the three beasts. “Those ones. Then some others down the hall when we ran in here.”

“We were trying to sneak out,” Hooper said. “We thought we could. But then… there were too many of them. How could we run? They would’ve just caught up and…” His words trailed off. “I’m not supposed to die like this.”

“Anyone else working here tonight?” Miguel asked.

“There were four others in the warehouse,” Shelton offered. That faraway gaze of his was finally starting to fade. His body shook. “They might need our help.”

“We, uh, already went down that way. Anyone else?”

Shelton shook his head. “What now?”

“Now we get you the hell out of here.”

-11-

“Good work,” Dom said. He was in the electronics workshop, the technological heart of the Bethany, and on the sat phone with Miguel.

Meredith sat at a workstation. She’d been monitoring the team’s actions, piping in their comm channels while keeping Thornfield apprised. The Hunters reported that this time, they’d rescued two of the lab workers, even if they’d been too late for the people working in the warehouse. It was bittersweet, but Dom tried to focus on the fact that at least they’d saved some lives.

“Thornfield wants you to bring Shelton and Hooper back to the Bethany,” Dom said. “Apparently, there were a few other labs and seed companies attacked around the region recently. Can’t be a coincidence, so we’re going to interview these guys as Navid goes through all the scientific data with the rest of the sci team. See what we can learn.”

“You got it,” Miguel replied. “Shouldn’t be long before we’re back. Just have to report in with the local security teams that responded. They wanted to know all about the party they missed.”

Dom ended the call.

“Long night?” Samantha Hamlin asked.

The talented computer engineer had almost as many tattoos as a Skull had bone plates and kept her sleeves rolled up to show off the artwork. She was responsible for most of the devices the Hunters used in the field to retrieve data. Hacking was her thing. Which, more and more, they hadn’t needed since they’d spent most of their time running routine security patrols landside instead of real intel ops.

“Always,” Dom said. “Looks like Navid’s bringing back some real work for you.”

She rubbed her hands together like she was going to start a fire. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that. I’m getting tired of just eavesdropping on random radio channels and trying to intercept comms from stupid thieves and raiders.”

“We’ll keep you employed yet.”

Chao Li was the other workshop inhabitant. He was busy in the corner on a workbench soldering wires together on one of Miguel’s spare prosthetics. Unfortunately, it sounded like the prosthetic Miguel had worn tonight had taken some damage.

“How’s it looking?” Dom asked him.

“If Miguel keeps busting these things, he’s going to run out of hands.”

“Fashion him a hook or something. He’ll probably like that just as much.”

“I don’t think a hook will be good for firing a rifle.”

Chao was never big on jokes or sarcasm.

“He’ll learn,” Dom said.

“I can make more prosthetics like this if we can secure some new solenoids.”

“We’ll put it on the grocery list. When Thornfield pays us for these ops, I can have him sweeten the deal with supplies.”

“We deserve it,” Meredith said. “I mean, two ops, back-to-back, one night? We’re practically running a charity for him if he doesn’t.”

“You let him know that on our next call. I—”

“Whoa!” Samantha said. “Captain, look!”

Dom rushed back to her station. On one of the many monitors, flames filled a night vision camera’s view. Problem was, that camera was pointed at their top deck. A pit formed at the bottom of his stomach. How the hell had the ship caught fire and no one noticed?

Then just as quickly, the flames dissipated. Not two seconds later, another ball of flame roared over the deck, once again burning itself out without causing any damage.

“What in the hell is happening?” Dom asked.

Samantha pulled up another view. This one showed the docks next to their station. Two people were crouched in the shadows of crates along a dock a couple slips over. They were in the middle of lighting a Molotov cocktail.

An improvised weapon like that wouldn’t even leave a lick of damage on the reinforced hulls of their ship, but all the same, Dom couldn’t let an action like that go unpunished. With Miguel’s team still driving back, that left only two people equipped to handle these offenders.

“Meredith, remember how I was talking about getting back into the field?” he asked.

She pushed back the desk chair, standing from her station. “Let’s get up there.”

Dom ran to the armory with Meredith. They scooped up armor vests, tossing them over their shoulders. No time to tighten them. Dom already had his HK 45C in his thigh rig. Never went anywhere without it. Might as well walk around naked.

Meredith had her Glock 19 in a thigh rig and was tightening her vest as they made their way up the steps to the top deck.

Dom waited one beat by the hatch on the deck. He peered out the porthole.

Another flash of flames rolled across the deck, and spreading liquid burned over the metal, an orange ball of fire swelling up in a vortex. A thick cloud of black smoke plumed from the burning liquid.

“Now,” Dom said.

He pushed open the hatch. A blast of heat hit Dom’s face as he sprinted through the ashy haze. The acrid smoke stung his nostrils. His eyes watered. None of it would hold him back.

These two had some reason to be pestering the Hunters. They’d snuck through security barriers that were supposed to be manned by local law enforcement. Then sought out the Bethany. Why?

Obviously, they were either too dumb to realize they couldn’t do it real damage, or they were a couple of disgruntled jerks that wanted to send a message.

Over the past couple days, too many weird events had occurred for Dom to let this go. No, if the attacks in Norwich and New Haven were connected, if that Skull attack Miguel and the others had intervened in were also somehow connected, then Dom guessed this was too.

If it wasn’t, if this was just a bad coincidence, then it was better to confirm that than be left to wonder. A lifetime spent working in intel made Dom appreciate how valuable every crumb of data and information was. If someone had gotten the balls to attack their ship, he wanted to know why. No, he needed to know because now they were throwing Molotov cocktails. Next time… He didn’t want there to be a next time.

His crew and their ship had withstood assaults by pirates, terrorists, Skulls, and rogue government factions. These two shitheads were nothing.

He booked it off the ship, launching himself onto the neighboring dock. His boots hit the concrete with a thud that shook up through his knees. A slight hint of pain woke some old battlefield injuries, but that was quickly washed away by the adrenaline barreling through his veins at the thrill of the hunt.

Meredith came lunging from behind him, hitting the dock, and they took off.

“Stop right there!” Dom yelled.

Both foolhardy attackers wore dingy, hooded sweatshirts. One looked at the other then dropped two more unlit Molotov cocktails. They both broke against the concrete, flammable liquid spreading around shards of glass. Then the two booked it down the dock, back toward town.

These two were fast.

Dom was reminded that no matter how much he kept in shape, he probably still had thirty years on the bastards.

Still, he kept on them.

This old dog can still hunt. “Stop!”

The thigh rig with the pistol pressed against his bulging muscles. He might be within his right to gun these two down. Could easily claim they had attacked the ship. But he knew what was right within the law didn’t always mean it was right in his mind.

And sometimes vice versa.

Right now, he saw two punks. Hopefully, they were just dumb teenagers trying to make a statement.

He’d been a dumb teenager.

The duo took a right, barreling down an alley. Dom and Meredith ran after them. The runners climbed up a dumpster then used it to get over another fence, still within the shipyard. Dom followed, scaling the dumpster then jumping over the other side. Meredith was right behind him.

“Where’d they go?” she asked, chest heaving, nearly breathless.

Dom looked right and left down the rows of warehouses and shipping containers. So many places for these two to disappear and hide, wait it out, then sneak back outside.

But they’d just hopped the fence. They couldn’t have gone far.

Dom looked to his left, then right. Back to the left. That was when he saw it. The boot prints in the grass next to the street. Perfect.

Their quarry had fled down the shipyard to the left. They’d disappeared quickly. So if Dom judged correctly, they were hiding behind a couple of shipping containers loaded up on trailers.

With a hand signal, he told Meredith what he’d deduced. He sent her to the far side of the trailers. They crept along the pavement. Everything was quiet enough Dom could hear the waves gently lapping against the pier and the call of gulls drifting overhead.

He took his pistol from its holster. Not because he wanted to shoot these two, but because he needed to make sure they knew not to run again.

“Samantha, you there?” he whispered over his comm unit, pausing next to the end of the trailer.

“Copy.”

“Get New Haven’s police on this. Coast Guard too. They’re going to want to know how these two breached the shipyard.”

“You got ‘em?”

“About to.” He relayed his position.

“Contacting now.”

Dom prowled along the side of the container, padding quietly. Meredith was on the opposite side of the two parallel trailers. He made it to the end just before Meredith did.

At his signal, they both swiveled around the sides, ensuring they had a full-frontal view of the open end of the shipping containers. Dom switched on his tac light, blasting it into the recesses of the container. It was empty.

He moved to Meredith’s trailer in the next half second.

Bingo.

She had her weapon aimed at two people cowering near the back. Both still had their hoodies drawn over their faces. Their targets. Cornered.

“Come on out,” Meredith said. “Hands up.”

They did. Both were wearing gloves. And as they approached, the light shone over their faces. They had bandanas pulled up, so about all Dom could see was their eyes. When the breeze came in, cutting past them and rustling their oversized hoodies, he could tell they were both like skinny masts, their sweatshirts sails billowing around them.

“That’s it,” Dom said. “Don’t make any sudden movements.”

He and Meredith took a couple steps back from the trailer. It gave the others just enough space to drop down.

“Who the hell are you?” Dom demanded as they slipped off the trailer and onto the pavement.

The one on his right spoke. Her voice was feminine. Shaky. “What are you going to do with us?”

“Nothing. Nothing yet. So long as you cooperate.”

Her voice trembled. “You people are assholes.”

“We are?” Meredith asked. “You two came and threw Molotov cocktails at our ship. You’re still alive. And we’re assholes?”

“You’re helping to destroy this world. You’re destroying our lives.”

“Pull back your hood,” Dom said. “Let’s see your faces.”

The young woman complied, releasing a wave of greasy blond hair. She peeled her bandana down to reveal a gaunt face.

Dom thought he recognized her. He’d seen her in the streets around the shipyards recently. Maybe she worked here. Or maybe she had been surveilling the shipyards to pull off this stunt. “What was the point of all this?”

The young woman said nothing.

“You,” Meredith said. “Go on.”

“No,” the other person said in a distinctly masculine growl.

“Come on,” Dom said. “Who are you?”

Instead of answering, the guy suddenly went low and sprinted past Meredith.

“Take the girl in,” Dom said to Meredith.

He slipped his gun back into his rig and charged off after the runner. This person, whoever he was, definitely didn’t want to be caught. Dom figured if someone had answers to what all this was about, it was the guy running.

His lungs heaved with every lunging stop. The runner loped like a damn gazelle. Every step way too fast, nearly inhuman. But Dom knew these shipyards. He hoped the punk didn’t. The best thing he could do was to drive this person away from the security fence along the outside. If the guy made it into town, he stood a better chance at getting away. Dom gained on him, herding him from the left side. The runner immediately turned right, shooting off toward the docks with smaller boats.

Perfect.

The punk ran past a stack of crates, pausing unsuccessfully to try pushing them over and giving Dom a precious few seconds to close in. The man turned and sprinted by another row of shipping containers and over to a small hoist holding a web cargo net filled with crates. The runner ran at the net, slashing his hand out. Must’ve used a knife or something to cut the rope holding the cargo net together. It hit the dock hard, releasing a bunch of wooden crates that smashed in front of Dom. He had to dart around the crates, losing the regained ground.

The gun at his thigh never seemed so heavy, so ready to be let loose. Especially now that he knew his quarry was armed. He wasn’t interested in a knife fight. Though he could probably take this waifish guy, one wrong move, one well-aimed slash meant the winner of a knife fight might die in the ambulance instead of on the street.

Back in his heyday, Dom would’ve caught this loser no problem. Could disarm him in seconds. Take him in to face justice or deliver justice right there, right then.

He and Meredith and the rest of the Hunters sparred on the regular, but facing off in real-world situations had grown sparser.

No, no, no. He was letting doubt cloud his mind.

He was a damn Hunter. Always would be.

The runner started over a gangplank. Looked like he was going to cross it to another boat. Probably planned to make it down the next gangway and onto a dock where he could run back toward shore, back toward the security fences.

That was the guy’s first mistake. Now Dom knew he had him.

Dom yanked the gangplank off the stanchion it was secured to. Then he twisted it to the side. Just enough to destabilize the runner. Without handrails, the punk had nowhere to go but into the drink.

Dom’s home. He hadn’t spent a life on the seas because he didn’t know how to swim.

Unfortunately, the punk apparently didn’t like the water. He started flailing, panicking immediately. Splashing, his head bobbing in the water, his hands reaching wildly for the dock.

Yeah, now Dom definitely knew it was over. Good luck trying to fight someone off when you were already fighting not to drown.

Dom dove into the water next to the guy. He flung one arm around the runner’s chest, right under his arms, then kicked backward, pulling him toward the dock. The guy was coughing and wheezing, still thrashing aimlessly, caught in blind panic.

“Grab the dock,” Dom said. He had to shout it again before the person realized what was going on.

Then Dom heaved himself up the dock. The runner was struggling to pull himself over, so Dom grabbed the guy’s wrists and dragged him up.

The runner was still gagging when Dom ripped off his drenched bandana to help him breathe. And that was when the puzzle pieces fell together. Bone protrusions covered the guy’s brow. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose shrunken, practically skeletal. Every tooth was yellow and jagged, the man’s lips cracked and peeled back, his dried gums bared.

Dom had to remind himself not to instinctively grab his knife or pistol and end this person.

Because this was still a person. Not a Skull.

“You’re a Hybrid.”

The guy’s chest was heaving as he licked his lips. The sound of sirens wailed over the shipyard. Dom heard people shouting, some headed their way.

“No shit,” the guy replied, his voice grating. “And you’re a Hunter.”

“No shit,” Dom agreed. “Why’d you do it? Why attack us? You had to know you couldn’t win.”

“I’m not trying to kill anyone,” the Hybrid said. “Not like you. I’m just trying to get you to leave.”

“Why?” Dom asked.

“You don’t belong here. None of you do. You’re interfering with stuff you shouldn’t.”

“The hell you talking about?”

Footsteps grew louder. Closer.

The Hybrid said nothing.

“Answer me.” Dom shook the guy’s shoulders.

The Hybrid grinned, looking nearly diabolical. Dom heard something crunch in the guy’s mouth. “The Children of Kusanagi send their regards.”

Blood bubbled out of the Hybrid’s mouth. Red foam spread from between his teeth, and his limbs shook as his eyes rolled back.

Dom stepped away, anger boiling over. This young man, this young Hybrid, had thrown his life away just to send a message.

Red and blue lights flooded the docks. Police and Coast Guard units swarmed around Dom and the dead Hybrid.

Dom looked out to the east, the seas dark and calm.

But make no mistake, a storm was coming.

-12-

Kara stalked through the forest with Caleb. The smell of carrion and rot only grew stronger. To her surprise, Caleb was about as good of a hunting partner as she could have hoped. Sure, he wasn’t as quiet as her, but when she told him what to do, he listened.

They started up a slope. Wind rustled through the leaves and branches.

Kara held up a fist to tell him to freeze. He did. Good.

Yeah, Caleb was a fast learner. Just like he’d promised.

Those times when a former military person went with her, everything was gold. But more often than not, the people she helped, the people who insisted on joining Kara for whatever errand they were paying for, were a hindrance. She usually felt more like a babysitter trying to keep a toddler from putting their hand on a hot burner. Kara didn’t make it a habit of keeping partners in the field. People liked to disagree with how she wanted to do things, or they were simply another variable she had to think about.

She preferred being alone. Maybe if she had a team like her dad’s Hunters, her tune would change.

For a time, she’d even considered enlisting in the Army, Navy, something. Maybe getting placed in a unit where she could learn real battlefield skills and help protect what was left of this country. But there was something about not being told when and where to go, having control, that she just couldn’t give up.

So this was it. Delving through the woods, sometimes with an ally. Sometimes on her own.

She paused to listen to the creeping sounds of the forest. The scent of rotten meat was getting so strong, she felt the familiar pangs of revulsion flowing up through her gut. People said you got used to the smell. But those weren’t people who spent time around a horde of Skulls and the overwhelming stench of rotting bodies. You never really got used to that kind of repugnant stink.

Visceral instincts in response to that distinct, putrid stench were hard to overcome. Kara heard the strongest sense tied to memory was smell. She believed it. Every time she caught a hint of the characteristic smell of Skulls, all the living nightmares returned. Slashing claws. Snapping teeth. Guttural shrieks. The pain over the side of her face, leaving the ugly scars she wore today.

Kara continued up the crest, picking each footstep with all the care of a jeweler placing diamonds in a necklace. She was quiet. Helped that the air was alive with droning insects. From chirping crickets to buzzing cicadas, she had the benefit of a whole screen of natural white noise.

A line of trees and bushes walled in a clearing. Moonlight draped over three log cabins. They didn’t look like the fancy kind rich city dwellers escaped to for the weekend. These were scraggly. Ancient. Or maybe just handmade.

Raising her rifle, she studied the grounds. Scattered piles of wood. A firepit. No fire going. No smoke from the chimneys either. She didn’t see any movement between the cabins nor the couple of ATVs sitting beside an open shed filled with tools.

Turning back, she signaled for Caleb to join her. She winced when his boots crunched noisier over the dirt and branches than she would have liked. Still, the drone of the bugs seemed to mask the sound. When she put a finger to her lips to remind him to quiet down again, he did.

“I want to make one lap,” she said in a low voice. “See if there’s any movement. Got it?”

He nodded.

Together, they prowled along the circumference of the clearing. She paused occasionally to focus on the windows of the cabin but couldn’t make out anything inside. All the doors to the three cabins were open. Back. Front. Plenty of footprints around them. Claw prints too.

When she stopped again, they were behind the cabins, looking into an open door of a cabin. That was when she saw a shape hunched over and moving through the shadows inside.

It disappeared just as quickly.

Caleb raised his rifle, peering down the scope.

Kara shook her head, pushing the barrel down. “Lesson one. You don’t fire when you don’t have to. If that’s a Skull and you fire, more are probably nearby. They’re going to hear the gunshot. Then what do you do?”

“Shoot ‘em all.”

“That work for you?”

“If it doesn’t, running usually does.”

“Not the game I play. Come on.”

“Down there?”

“Where else?”

She walked at a crouch. While she kept her rifle at her shoulder, she was ready to turn it into a club the moment she needed to. Staying quiet was staying alive.

Kara started toward the first cabin. If they were lucky, what she’d seen was just one of the people they were looking for. Maybe Rosie or one of the others figured these cabins would be a good place to shelter.

If they weren’t lucky, which she figured far more likely, it was a Skull.

Somewhere between those possibilities lurked robbers and opportunists.

She was ready for whatever was happening here. Going into the cabin first, she left Caleb to watch her back. Kara took a tentative step in, testing the floorboards. One creaked slightly. She froze. The odor of rot here was stronger than she could’ve imagined.

Cans were scattered over the floor. A shelf of plates and cups had crashed near a kitchen table. On the counter, right next to the sink, was a big chunk of graying meat. Flies buzzed around it. Maggots squirmed in its juices. She had to quell the gag threatening to ruin her stealth.

The hunk of meat looked like it had been butchered from one of those cows she’d seen on the way in.

Only two possibilities. Human or Hybrid had brought that here. Not Skulls.

But why had it been left out like that?

She continued deeper into the kitchen, gesturing for Caleb to follow. Nothing prowled in the living room. An empty gun rack stood near an end table adorned in half-melted candles. The couch had been split open, stuffing leaking out like it was a dead, beached whale left in the sun for way too long. Scratches along the floorboards matched those of Skull or Hybrid talons.

Caleb was staring at the gouges when Kara heard a messy squelching. Sounded like it was coming from down the hall. That was their answer. She crept forward, padding as softly as she could through the hall. Not easy when the place was as creaky as an old lady’s arthritic joints. She hit the wrong board, and a loud creak betrayed her position. She froze.

The squelching ceased. Then she heard a low growl.

She held up her hand again to stop Caleb.

More creaking sounded. This time, not from her. But from the bedroom down the hall.

Moonlight bled in through the open doorway. A shadow appeared, stretching from the bedroom.

Kara watched. Held her breath. Counted the passing seconds, hoping the creature would turn back to whatever it was doing.

It didn’t.

The monster appeared in the doorway, skeletal nostrils flaring, grotesque face twitching back and forth. Long, bony growths speared out of its head like a crown. Its back was curved in disfigurement as it prowled out, overgrown vertebrae bursting from its flesh in a line of pointed barbs. The overgrown ribs bulwarking its chest expanded as it sucked in a breath, its eyes locking on Kara.

It started to wrench its head back. She knew what would come next.

Before it could let out an eardrum-piercing hunting cry, she charged, jamming the butt of her rifle against its mouth. Bone cracked. Teeth flew. Blood sprayed. The creature staggered backward. Its spikes and bone plates got caught up in a rotting cloth curtain. It pulled the drapes down as it tried to recover, facing off against Kara, but she operated like an automaton, her honed instincts taking control.

She drove the butt of her rifle against its face again. Again. And again. More bone splinters flew from each devastating impact. The creature flailed, opening its mouth, trying to shriek.

Kara wouldn’t let it.

Unfortunately, they weren’t alone in the cabin. Another shape blurred from Kara’s right. It must’ve been in the bedroom too. She started to spin, ready to bash its face in before it could launch a howl welcoming all the Skulls in the area to feast.

She cocked the rifle back.

But before she could knock the monster out, the Skull’s head exploded in a mist of tissue and bone matter. The gunshot reverberated in the enclosed hall, bashing against Kara’s eardrums. With her ears ringing, she watched the Skull crash in a bloody heap.

She turned her rifle on the other one. It tried to get up. Tried to slash at her. But she could see its life was already bleeding out. She finished it with a couple heavy, thumping blows with her rifle’s stock then wiped her rifle clean on the curtain.

Curving into the bedroom, she spotted what the Skulls had been up to. A woman’s body was sprawled out over the bed. Half of it was… Well, it wasn’t pretty to look at, mauled up like that. An old two-barrel shotgun lay on the ground not far from the bed. Two big holes riven in the ceiling showed where she’d tried to ward off her attackers.

There was even one Skull already dead on the floor, its face a gory mess.

Otherwise, the bedroom was clear.

She turned back out into the hall.

“Idiot,” she hissed at Caleb. “I told you not to fire.”

She knew she was talking too loud now. Her hearing was still recovering, the ringing of a tuning fork reverberating in her eardrums.

Caleb looked confused. “I couldn’t just watch you get gored.”

“Wasn’t going to happen. I had it handled.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You should assume that.”

She dug a knuckle into her ear as if that would help the ringing subside. It didn’t. But she heard another sound that sent a chill through her spine. A distant howl.

Her stomach sank.

Just what she’d been afraid of. A whole chorus of unearthly voices responded to the first.

Oh, God. It wasn’t what she was afraid of. It was worse. There were more Skulls out here than she’d feared. Way more.

They had to hurry. Scolding Caleb would wait. She dragged him over to the woman’s body. Even in the moonlight, she could see him blanch at the sight. “You know her?”

“Know her?”

“She doesn’t look like the missing people Tressler told me about,” Kara said. “But in her condition, I can’t tell. You were around Cumberland longer than I was.”

Caleb looked like he was barely holding back his dinner. “No… No… I don’t think it was one of them.”

“You don’t think, or you know?”

“I know it isn’t. I don’t recognize her. Definitely not Rosie. Not Hudson or Maureen either.”

“Good.” Kara heard more howls. They couldn’t be too far away. The beasts might be here in five minutes or so.

“We running or shooting?” Caleb asked.

“Right now, neither,” she said. “We came for those missing people. We got time.”

Caleb didn’t move for a moment. “You’re serious.”

“I am.”

They moved on to the second cabin. The howls still echoed through the forest. Kara thought they were coming from somewhere to the south.

In the second cabin, they found more meat hanging up in the kitchen. It was being salted and preserved. But no bodies. Third cabin, same result. Some blood on the floor.

The howls were louder. Closer.

Caleb was looking nervous. Kara wanted to see how long he’d stay before he bolted. And truth be told, he was making good on his part. Listening to her. Doing what she said.

Either he was too scared to run off on his own, or he really did want to find this Rosie.

They were at the edge of the clearing now.

“We out of luck?” Caleb whispered.

The buzz of the insects had gotten quiet. So had the howls. Kara looked toward the south of the clearing. Skulls had to be close.

“No clues here,” she said. But she pointed at the ground. Talon prints headed away from the campground.

“What? Skulls?”

“Doubtful,” she said. “Hybrids more likely.”

“Why?”

“Because you saw the Skulls in there. They were still eating. You ever know Skulls to leave a perfectly good meal?”

He shook his head. “Not unless they’re dead or some other prey catches their eye.”

“Exactly. Good chance Hybrids were here.”

“Hybrids and Skulls.”

“Yeah. Only the Hybrids are smart enough to leave after whatever the hell happened here. I don’t see a bunch of animal prints to indicate there was more prey. Skulls wouldn’t leave until they ate everything in their path.”

“Could’ve been the Skulls left because they were chasing some of those cabin folk away.”

Kara hated that he was right. “Could be.” But then she checked the ground. “I don’t see normal human footprints. Or boots. That’s not saying you’re wrong, but…”

Another howl exploded from the woods. Leaves rustled as birds burst from a nearby tree.

“We got to go,” Kara said. “Hybrids, Skulls, whatever. That way.”

They fled back into the woods as the sounds of angry Skulls filled the clearing behind them.

-13-

Miguel leaned back against the cab of the truck. Navid had his arms folded, eyes closed, spine against the far sidewall of the truck bed. Between them sat Hooper and Shelton. Hooper, the younger of the two, a lab technician, still seemed nervous. Sweat practically poured down the kid’s face. His head swiveled back and forth like he expected a Skull to come charging out of the townhomes or storefronts they passed.

Hell, he even looked at the cop cars and military Humvees and other civilian vehicles like they were full of bloodthirsty monsters.

“You good, kid?” Miguel asked.

Hooper shook himself out of his fright. “What? Oh. Yeah. I’m good. Good. All good.”

“You’re safe with us,” Navid said, opening an eye.

“And you’re going to stay safe,” Miguel said. “We got orders to keep you with us.”

“With you? Where are we going?” Hooper asked.

Elias Thornfield, Director of National Security, the boss of Miguel’s boss, said he wanted the scientist and technician to stay under the Hunters’ protection. At least until they figured out why these ag companies were being attacked. Scientific minds were valuable, no matter the field, in rebuilding the United States. Thornfield had also suggested Hooper and Shelton might help Navid analyze some of the ag-related data they’d taken from Murdock.

“Yeah, with us,” Miguel said. “I’m guessing you guys aren’t going back to Evergreen Solutions anytime soon. We got permission for you to work with us for a while.”

“Doing what?” Shelton asked, eyes narrowed like he was suspicious.

They hit a bump in the road. Shelton and Hooper both winced.

Miguel raised his chin toward Navid. “He’s great at bio stuff. But correct me if I’m wrong. Plants aren’t something Navid usually works with.”

“Nope,” Navid said. “We got a bunch of samples from Murdock Ag that we need to take a look at. I’m not even sure what they all are. I can brief you when we get back, but basically, I need to figure out why some of the experimental samples are missing after the attack on Murdock Ag, and why Skulls or people would attack Murdock.”

“This is related to the attack on our facility?” Shelton asked.

“Maybe. We’re not sure. Which is why if you can help us answer a bunch of questions, we might be able to answer that one.”

Hooper straightened in the truck bed. “I can help. I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know,” Shelton said. “I’m just not sure I should or I can…”

Not the enthusiastic or even matter-of-fact response Miguel expected. He chalked it up to Shelton still acting confused from nearly becoming a Skull’s lunch.

Shelton’s eyes fell on Miguel’s arm. “You guys said you’re Hunters, right?”

“We’re not just Hunters. We’re the Hunters. We’re a—”

“I know who you guys are,” Hooper said. “Heroes of the Tide.”

“We’re just one group of people who fought to stop it all,” Miguel said. “Wouldn’t call us heroes. You got plenty of military, police, doctors, scientists, and normal people who deserve the title just as much.”

Hooper shook his head emphatically. “But you guys stopped the people who created the Oni Agent. You were there when it first hit the US, and you were there when the enemy came to our soil and tried to take our country. You tried to stop the Oni Agent.”

“We were, and we did,” Miguel said.

“I heard so many stories,” Hooper said.

Shelton piped up. “Me too. I remember rumors at the beginning about some mercenaries—”

“We prefer military contractors.”

“Some people said you all helped spread the Oni Agent.”

Miguel remembered how their group had taken the blame all too well. They’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And so much false intel had been fed to the powers that be that they became an easy scapegoat in those first few weeks of confusion.

That had all thankfully been cleared up by the government. But Miguel had learned that lies will travel twenty times farther than the truth. Plus, first impressions and all that. People clung to the first thing they were told like it was God’s honest truth. Any corrections, any new information, was just a test to their faith instead of welcome clarification.

So the Hunters had borne the scars of misinformation for a while. Sometimes people welcomed them as allies and friends; sometimes they cursed them out, still wanting to believe it was somehow their fault for causing the Tide. Miguel liked the days back when no one knew their names, that they even existed at all.

“The Hunters didn’t have a thing to do with causing the Oni Agent’s spread,” Navid said. “They tried to stop it from the beginning.”

“Why didn’t you guys stop it then?” Shelton asked. His tone sounded strangely acerbic. Yeah, this was one of those guys who didn’t like the Hunters from the get-go.

“Because we were too late,” Miguel said. “You know the Forces of Global Liberation? The FGL?”

Shelton shook his head. Hooper just stared, saying nothing.

“That was the extremist Russian group that developed the Oni Agent and Heikegani Agent and all the other bioweapons bullshit. All the monsters in the world started because of the FGL. They used all their connections, their kompromat, their splinter cell groups, and a bunch of other terrorists to spread those bioweapons before any of us even knew what a Skull was.”

“I know that’s what you want us to believe,” Shelton said.

Hooper’s face scrunched up like he smelled something rotten. “Ignore him. He might be a good botanist, but he’s also half convinced the moon landing was fake too.” He gestured toward Miguel and Navid. “These guys are the real deal.”

Shelton didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“Shoot, doc, you’re going to see soon enough,” Navid said, measurably calmer. Good thing Hooper had the scientist sitting next to him. Because Miguel had a few choice words that were a whole lot less chill.

“You’re telling me you’re taking us back to your ship,” Shelton said.

“That was the plan,” Miguel said, “although I’m happy to drop you off in the street. No skin off my back. You can do whatever you want if you think we’re some kind of traitors.”

“He’s just angry,” Hooper said. “We’d be glad to get to your ship and help however we can. But you got to forgive Shelton. I mean, we just saw our life’s work destroyed. Again.”

“This happened before?” Miguel asked.

They took a sharp turn. Miguel had to brace himself so he didn’t go sliding. Then he pounded his fist on the rear cabin window.

“Sorry, sometimes I forget we have passengers back there,” Andris shouted back through the open rear window.

“Ass,” Miguel said back.

Andris shot him a smirk back.

“Hey, eyes on the road ahead!”

Andris did. But he also gave Miguel a one-fingered salute.

Shelton and Hooper shared a look like they were watching a bar fight unfold.

“Don’t worry,” Miguel said. “No one’s actually pissed. Just the way we are. You were telling me how much crap you guys dealt with. Did you two work together before Evergreen?”

“No,” Hooper said. “I was out west. Chicago area for a long time.”

“Oh, shit. Chi-town’s still a dumpster fire.”

“We tried to hang on out there,” Hooper said, nodding. “I worked for a pesticide company. It got ransacked. Moved on to Indiana. Bloomington to be exact. Same thing happened to the medical company I worked at. Then I made some friends while I was traveling, looking for a new place to settle. They convinced me to move to the East Coast. They said with better protection, more people, it would be easier to have a stable career. Guess they were wrong.”

“Last lab I worked at was in DC,” Shelton said.

“FDA or something?” Navid asked.

“FDA.”

“I thought everything was pretty tight there.”

“It was,” Shelton said. “But my home got hit by raiders once. Later, a Skull swarm got my neighborhood. I moved up here, by the coast. Something reassuring about having water on one side. At least the Skulls can’t storm the beaches, you know?”

Miguel gave him a warm smile. Sure, Skulls didn’t swim. But the waters weren’t safe either. The Hunters had been threatened plenty of times at sea by everyone from terrorists to desperate AWOL naval elements to members of the now disbanded Forces of Global Liberation.

But he didn’t want to make this guy feel any worse about the world than he already did.

Shelton combed a hand through his thinning gray hair. “I don’t understand what happened tonight. We were just testing some returned seed stocks and crops. Got reports of diseases, so we had to work overtime. We were buried in QA work until we heard shattering glass. Went to see what was going on… and those monsters started chasing us. We tried to escape, tried to hide. But why did the Skulls attack us in the first place?”

“Months of quiet, then this,” Hooper added, shaking his head somberly.

“Everything we were doing at Evergreen is gone,” Shelton said morosely. “All our work destroyed. It’s going to take weeks to put everything back together and start doing QA work again.” A tear rolled out of his eye. “Every time I think we’re getting back to normal, every time I think maybe this time our work will matter, something happens, and everything gets destroyed, and we have to start all over again.” He paused, taking a breath. “It feels like the end of the world just never ends.”

“Ain’t that the truth, brother,” Miguel said.

-14-

Dom was glad to see the truck with Miguel, Andris, Jenna, and Navid roll into the shipyard in the early morning hours with the two new scientists. To the east, dawn was just cracking the night sky. A dark blue slowly morphed into the hint of a coming sunrise.

With the team safely back aboard, he should get some sleep, but with all that had happened, he and Meredith were itching for answers. They were at her station in the electronics workshop, both nursing cups of coffee from a stale pot. The rest of the team had returned to their cabins, leaving just the two of them wiling away the morning hours.

“I’m going to try Thornfield now,” Meredith said.

Dom stood behind her station, watching as she patched in the encrypted call. They only had to wait a couple of seconds before he answered.

“I was about to go on my morning run,” Thornfield said. The guy had a voice like warm honey. A politician through and through despite a career birthed in the academic halls of political science and matured in the intelligence field. “Good thing you caught me, Webb.”

“I’ve got Dominic Holland here with me too,” Meredith said. “We wanted to debrief on last night’s mission.” She gave him an overview of everything Miguel had told them. “It sounds like Evergreen’s scientist and technician are willing to work with us for the time being too.”

“Glad to hear it,” Thornfield responded.

“You can vouch for the two of them?” Dom asked. “Before we give them even limited access to the ship’s lab, I just want to make sure someone knows who we’re dealing with.”

“You know you don’t need to ask.”

“And you know, no matter who you’re talking to, we love to trust but verify in our field.”

Thornfield let out a laugh that sounded like jazz music. “You’re good, Captain Holland. Yes, my team ran background checks on both these guys. As thorough as we could with the resources on hand, of course. I’ll pass everything we have on to you two. That being said, I’m letting you both use your full discretion when involving these two in your work. I’m not trying to force anything on you.”

Meredith looked back at Dom to see if he was satisfied with that answer. He gave her a curt nod. Good enough for now. Of course, his team would keep an eye on Hooper and Shelton. He didn’t like having just anyone on the ship, but if Thornfield had done his due diligence, that was a hell of a lot better than some of the situations they’d been forced into in the past.

“As long as they’re helpful, we’ll keep them on,” Dom said. “We could use their expertise.”

“If they become a hindrance, don’t be afraid to let them go. Anything else?”

“Possibly related to those missions, we had two more events unrelated to the mission objectives that sparked our interest.”

“Oh?”

She told Thornfield both about the Skull attack and Children of Kusanagi intervention that Miguel had reported along with Dom’s encounter with the Hybrid on the docks.

“You’re sure he was a Hybrid?” Thornfield asked.

“You think I don’t know what a Hybrid looks like?” Dom replied.

“Trust but verify.”

Dom grinned. “Yes, he was definitely a Hybrid. You’ll see the local reports from the Coast Guard and the New Haven police will corroborate what I saw.”

“And last thing he said was ‘the Children of Kusanagi send their regards’?”

“I know,” Dom said. “A little on the nose. Like we’re in some kind of fantasy television show, huh?”

“I suppose he thought it would sound foreboding. But why Molotov cocktails?”

“I assume this cult—or at least those two—doesn’t have access to real weapons,” Dom said. “We were hoping to get an updated profile on them from you. Last I heard, there was nothing to worry about. But anyone dumb or brazen enough to attack us unprovoked, whether they thought they could really cause damage or were just trying to send a message, makes me curious.”

“Curiosity is a good trait for anyone in intel.” Typing sounded over Thornfield’s line like he was pulling up something on his computer. “We don’t have too much on these guys. Officially, they aren’t considered a threat like some of the belligerent hostile groups operating to the west. But we have seen an uptick in their recruitment efforts.”

“Know why?” Meredith asked.

“Hard to say,” Thornfield said. “The obvious answer is more people are looking for answers to the state of the world. The Children might be happy to provide that. Or they’ve got more nefarious objectives than we initially thought.”

“I’m more afraid of the latter,” Dom said.

“You want me to investigate this group?”

“I wouldn’t dream of telling the DNI what to do. But I just have a bad feeling. Kind of like we’re looking at the first raindrops before a monsoon.”

“Holland, if you have a premonition, then I now have a premonition. I’ll have a couple of my analysts put together a more in-depth profile of the Children. See what we can dig up.”

“Do you know how widespread they happen to be?” Dom asked.

“Last we knew, they were active from the Midwest—Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, mostly—and up through Pennsylvania. Small numbers. Led by a guy named Colorado Singer.”

“You have to be kidding me,” Meredith said.

Dom laughed. “Sounds like a harmless hippy.”

“Long hair, beard. Everything you want in a cult leader,” Thornfield said. “We don’t know a lot about the guy. He’s basically a ghost. But I’ll send it your way. We didn’t have evidence that they’ve put anyone in real danger until your reports. My hope is you’re looking at some extremist outliers and the majority of the group is harmless.”

“I hope you’re right,” Dom said, “and I’ll be looking forward to that profile.”

“Count on it. We’ll have a long talk with the girl Meredith captured and the man Miguel apprehended. Maybe they can validate my theories.”

“I’d love to have some time with them myself,” Meredith said.

“Unfortunately, I’ve got bigger fish for you to fry. First off, I want your science team to pick apart the data from Murdock and anything you learned from Evergreen. You know the drill. Why would anyone want to raid both those places? Especially since we’re getting reports of attacks like these elsewhere at farms and agriculture-related businesses.”

“How many attacks are we up to now?” Dom asked.

“Maybe fifteen verified.”

That nearly took Dom’s breath away. This was worse than he’d thought. “You have any theories we can work off?”

“This is all new to us. Go in with an unbiased, clean slate. In the meantime, I’m suspending all your escort and unprioritized operations. This should be your sole focus.”

“Sole focus?” Dom asked tentatively. “You said you don’t know what’s connecting these cases, but you’re making them sound a lot more important than you let on.”

“I’m afraid that’s because they might be,” Thornfield said. “The White House is working hard to ensure the United States isn’t relying on unreliable imports for our food supply.”

It didn’t take an intel professional to know that global trade had been violently disrupted—and still hadn’t recovered. Reliable and diversified food supply chains were a thing of the past.

Dom could certainly read between the lines. As could Meredith.

“The food situation is worse than we thought,” Meredith summarized succinctly.

“That it is,” Thornfield said. “We’re already anticipating a rough winter. Any actions against our existing supply chains or organizations and companies that support our agricultural industry are direct threats to the stability of the United States. I cannot emphasize just how delicate this situation is.”

“Got it,” Dom said. “Find whoever or whatever is responsible for these attacks. Figure out why Skulls were in those facilities. Make sure no other facilities are attacked.”

“The Joint Chiefs have already reorganized defensive operations around the country to secure our food supplies. But we’re already spread thin. There’s a good chance we introduced more gaps in the line around places like New Haven’s shipyard. Hence, the punks slipping through and harassing you all.”

Dom felt the weight of those words on his shoulders. Thornfield, for once, sounded like he was actually worried.

“We’ll do everything we can,” Dom said.

“I know you will. Keep me apprised. What else can I do to help your investigations?”

“The usual,” Dom said. “Fuel, ammunition.”

“And I’ve got the usual answer for you. We’ll see what we can spare. Military’s demanding most of those resources.”

“Rightfully so,” Meredith said.

“We’ve still got access to some stockpiles reserved for our operations. I’ll see what we can spare to get you moving on this one. Otherwise, you’ll need to work with what you have.”

Dom looked at Meredith as he spoke. “We always have, always will.”

Meredith nodded. “We’re used to finding our own way.”

That was true. Whether they were operating out of Morocco or the Congo, they’d always found a way to ensure they had the supplies they needed for a mission. Scrounging up weapons and ammo hadn’t ever been a show-stopping issue for them. But there was always a first time for everything.

-15-

Navid unloaded the gear and data they’d retrieved from Murdock and Evergreen into the Bethany’s specially equipped lab. Unique in its construction, the lab had both BSL-2 and -3 sides. There was a small containment chamber suitable for conducting experiments requiring the maximum containment procedures of a landside BSL-4 lab as well.

From microscopes to microCTs, genetic analyzers and differential scanning calorimeters, the lab was straight from Navid’s dreams as a grad student. Back then, he never could have imagined he would one day have unrestricted access to cutting-edge equipment like this.

Sean McConnelly had a headlamp strapped over his forehead, making his fiery hair stick up every which direction as he worked on the innards of their spectrophotometer. “Tell me you brought some spare parts in that sack of presents, Santa.”

Navid grinned, joining Sean’s side. “Afraid not. What do you need? Maybe the new guys have connections we can lean on.”

“New guys?” Sean flipped up his headlamp and placed a soldering iron on the lab bench. “They coming on permanently? No one cleared it with me.”

Sean was a fixture of the Hunters long before Navid joined. While some of the sci team had moved on—notably the former lead, talented MD/PhD Lauren Winters—Sean had stayed. Resident epidemiologist, he’d also become an equipment technician, scouring digital and paperback manuals for hours every day to maintain the lab. Calling in companies to send in a support tech was no longer an option—and the government’s supply of knowledgeable techs had been stretched just as thin as the military forces.

“Nah, the guys we brought are from Evergreen,” Navid said. “I caught up with the captain briefly before I came in. Apparently, they’re going to be helping us on this project.”

“Which project?”

Navid gestured toward the packs of goods. “Our new mission is to figure out why Skulls attacked Murdock and Evergreen.”

“Because someone else is behind it, obviously.”

“Obviously. So that’s the rub. Why? Who brought Skulls into those places?”

“A bunch of assholes, that’s who. Done. Mystery solved. Now let me get back to work.”

Navid laughed as Sean turned away, acting as if done with the conversation. “There were some missing samples from the first lab’s logs. Not sure if someone stole those samples, they got lost in the fray, or they’re just totally inconsequential. That’s where I could use your help sorting through what we have. See if we find any patterns in what went missing.”

“We’re talking about sabotage. Any chance this is corporate rivalry?”

“Everyone’s desperate for money. In a tight market, people would do anything to get a leg up.”

Sean put the plastic cover back over the internals of the spectrophotometer. “External threats too. You can bet we haven’t seen the last of the FGL. Not like everyone in the world loves the US. Plenty of people might want to take advantage of the chaos.”

Navid unzipped the duffels. “You think Hybrids could be involved?”

Sean’s face screwed up in worry. Navid knew why. There’d been a Hybrid member of the Hunters for a few years, but he’d eventually left to do his own thing. Brendon O’Neil. Former SEAL. Good guy. Being a Hybrid, being half monster, had gotten to his psyche, though. At least, that was what Navid had talked about. The Navy SEALs would never take him back, and though Dom tried to keep him in the Hunters, O’Neil had said he had his own things to work out—and that was that.

“I’d hate to think it was Hybrids,” Sean said. “I’ve known too many good ones. Too many that are just trying to survive on the edge of society.”

Navid let out a sigh. “But just like you got extremist noninfected humans, you get extremist Hybrids.”

“I hope not.” Sean shuddered. “The violence against Hybrids got bad after the Tide. I can’t imagine what would happen if they’re the ones responsible for all this.”

Navid slowly shook his head as he took out a few Murdock lab notebooks. “Maybe Shelton and Hooper can help prove us wrong. Maybe it’s just a freak accident.”

“You believe that?”

“I’d like to.”

“Where are the new guys anyway?”

Navid placed the portable solid-state drives on the bench with all the data they’d pulled off the computers. “Peter’s checking them out. Making sure they don’t have any scratches or bites we missed bringing them in.”

Sean huffed. “That’s the last thing we need. Couple of potential witnesses turning into Skulls while they help us in the lab.”

They continued organizing everything Navid had brought back. It took about half an hour before the team’s medical lead, Doctor Peter Mikos, came into the lab with Shelton and Hooper in tow.

“Everything checks out,” Peter said with a hint of a Greek accent. The man was in his sixties now, graying hair, but spirited as ever. “No scratches. No signs of turning into monsters.” He patted Shelton and Hooper’s shoulders. “They are healthy as they can be.”

Meredith came in right after them. “Before you guys start doing all your beaker and pipette stuff, we got some questions. That all right?”

“Fine by me,” Navid said.

Sean made a rolling gesture with his hand for Meredith to go on.

They congregated around a lab bench near the entrance, taking stools around the computers and microscopes.

Meredith placed a laptop in front of her. “I’m going to be recording this conversation. Don’t want to miss anything. Hooper, Shelton, you guys notice any people around the lab that shouldn’t have been there recently?”

“No one in the lab,” Hooper said. “Sometimes the packaging people come in to collect batch analysis reports. But that’s it.”

“Hey, the boss came in a couple times to check on our progress too,” Shelton said.

“No one else? No one hanging out outside of Evergreen that shouldn’t be?” Meredith asked.

Hooper shrugged. “We work in the lab. No windows. We wouldn’t know.”

“He’s right,” Shelton said. “We’ve been so busy lately. We’ve hardly been outside.”

“What have you been working on?” Navid asked.

“Usual quality assurance work,” Hooper answered.

Sean leaned over the lab bench. “Why so busy, then?”

“We’ve had to reanalyze every stock,” Shelton said. “A lot of our clients are sending back samples for testing too.”

“Why’s that?” Navid asked.

“Blight.”

“For the nonscientists, want to explain?” Meredith asked.

“We received reports that several of our clients experienced crop blight,” Shelton said. “They feared it had to do with our seed stocks. It’s all a bunch of bull. We’re being framed.”

“Tell me about this blight.”

“Normally, blight is caused by a bacterium or fungus. It attacks the foliage, and usually, the plant withers away before you can do anything about it.”

“Your seed stock was causing this?” Sean asked.

“That’s what we were trying to figure out,” Hooper said. “Never got to, though.”

“What kind of crops were affected?”

Hooper held out his hands, palms up. “We got reports of corn, soybean, wheat, everything.”

“And this is abnormal?” Navid said.

“We’ve never had a year like this in recent history where so many crops were affected,” Shelton said. Then his face contorted in anger. “I want to be clear: we don’t know that our seeds caused this. No matter what our customers were saying. I stand by my work and our product.”

“No one’s accusing you of causing this,” Navid said, though he found Shelton’s defensiveness rather suspicious. Meredith, to her credit, didn’t seem the least bit flummoxed, but Navid would bet anything she was making note of that too. “We’re just interested in the blight.”

“Because you think this is connected to the attack?” Hooper asked.

Meredith gave a half shrug. The younger tech was definitely bright, looking for any and all connections like he was an intel sleuth himself. “Any information right now is helpful.”

“Well, Shelton’s right,” Hooper continued. “We had a lot of angry customers. A lot of people blaming us for the blight. People’s livelihoods depend on our seeds. So when they have a problem, we’re the scapegoat. A whole bunch of them were asking for refunds and financial compensation. Because as bad as these blight reports are, they’re all going to be deep in the hole this year. You’re going to see farms folding, and all these people who can’t handle a little trouble are going to get even angrier.”

“You think some pissed off customers would’ve done this?” Meredith asked.

Hooper held out his hands, palms up. “Maybe, maybe not. With the threats we were getting, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Shelton pounded his fist on the lab bench. “It was not our fault, though. Someone’s trying to hurt us. Someone’s screwing with us, and if you want to start asking questions, maybe start with the government or your contacts in the military.”

“Why’s that?” Meredith asked.

“They always know more than we do, don’t they?”

Meredith said nothing. Miguel had warned her that Shelton might have a tinfoil hat hidden in his lab coat.

“Our seeds were good,” Shelton continued. “I’ve got the records!” Then he pushed a palm against his forehead like he was trying to drive it through his skull. “Or at least I had the records before those beasts tore into our lab.”

“Look, it’s going to be all right,” Meredith said. “We’re going to do everything we can. Sean, you want to take this?”

“If you two don’t know, I’m an epidemiologist by training,” Sean said. “Naturally, my mind goes to where can we find patient zero? Maybe it’s your seeds, maybe—”

“It can’t be the seeds,” Shelton said through gritted teeth.

“Look, I just want to keep all possibilities open. If it’s not your seeds, then there’s another cause. It might be worth it to figure out why.”

“Would this have anything to do with the attacks on our labs?” Shelton asked.

“I have no idea,” Sean said. “I’m just an epidemiologist. Can’t help the way my mind works.”

Shelton looked to Meredith.

“I’m with him,” she said. “Right now, we’re in the data-gathering phase. Any information might be helpful.”

“Fine,” Shelton continued. “This blight, according to our clients, was spread all over New England. It’s not localized anywhere. That’s why they think we did it.”

“How bad is it?” Navid asked.

“The accusations are ridiculous! Terrible! They’ll sink Evergreen!”

“No, I mean the blight. How bad is it? Do you have a cure?”

“We’re not in the business of making cures.” Shelton lowered his voice. “If it really is all over the East Coast, it’s very, very bad. We might be looking at a collapse of nearly fifty percent of our customers’ crops.”

“Holy hell,” Sean said. “Do you know if farms that aren’t your customers are affected by this blight?”

Shelton shook his head. “I can’t say.”

“Can’t say or don’t know?” Meredith probed.

“We don’t have access to that kind of information at Evergreen,” Hooper answered. “But with all your fancy stuff, maybe you can get that and share it with us, huh?”

“Maybe.” Navid scratched at his beard, letting this dark information soak in. “Let’s just say the blight is consistent across all agricultural land in the region. How bad would that be for the United States?”

Shelton’s eyes met Navid’s, a cold intensity passing between them. “If that is the case, this blight could finish what the Oni Agent started.”

-16-

The howls of the Skulls persisted through the murky woods. Morning sunlight bled through the tree branches. Kara’s body was starting to drag, exhaustion tugging at her eyelids. She kept picturing those Skulls feasting on the woman’s body in the cabin. The question remained. Where were the rest of the cabins’ inhabitants? Those Skulls had only just started eating, which meant the woman hadn’t been dead all that long.

They followed the trails leading away from the campground. Interestingly, she started to see boot prints among them. The trail took her and Caleb between dense thickets of foliage, crossing the occasional untended hiking path, and over muddy streams.

“When do we set up camp?” Caleb asked her in a whisper.

“We don’t camp. Not at all.”

“What if we don’t find ‘em?”

“Hybrids? Rosie and the others?”

“Any of ‘em. All of ‘em.”

“We’ll find them.” She took a couple steps over broken branches and trampled leaves. “The trail’s too fresh not to find them,” she said. “If we stop now, we could lose them. All that work, all this tracking, for nothing.”

“You really want that reward.”

“I could use the cash, sure. But it’s more than that.”

“You care about these people?”

Kara hesitated a moment. A distant howl drifted through the morning air. The sounds of the Skulls grew more distant. She imagined the beasts were devouring every morsel of meat left in those cabins. They would hopefully be occupied for a while.

“I can’t say I care about these people personally,” she said. “Not like you tell me you care about Rosie.”

He winced. “You don’t believe I care about her?”

“You knew her for only a couple months.”

“Three months.”

“‘Kay. Three months. You’re already talking about stopping.”

“Nah, it’s not that. It’s just… I don’t plan on dying. Obviously. But it’s something else.”

Kara pushed aside a few branches so they could duck under a bent oak tree. “What?”

“I know what you’re thinking. Zero chance that Rosie’s alive. You’re thinking there’s a whole mess of reasons why when we find her, she ain’t going to be anything but gnawed-up bones, am I right?”

Kara said nothing.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You do care about her, then. You just don’t want to find her because…”

“Because if I don’t find her, then I can still believe she’s alive.” He hung his head. “I know it’s stupid. I sound like a hopeless fool.”

Kara thought back to her childhood home in Frederick, Maryland. Watching her mother turn into a Skull. Her mom had tried to kill her and Sadie, and Kara tricked the beast that had been her mother to go tumbling into their basement. She’d locked the basement door and never looked back.

All that time away from her home, she still wanted to believe that maybe there’d be a full cure to the Oni Agent. Not just one that would stop the Oni Agent in its early stages, like the Phoenix Compound, but one that would restore a full Skull into a human. The longer she held on to that misguided belief, the longer she could hold on to the lofty notion she’d get to see her mother again. Kara would hug her and tell her how much she missed her. And her mom would say how proud she was of Kara for protecting herself and her sister. Finding her dead body twisted by the mutations imparted by the Oni Agent would completely dispel that fantasy, that ephemeral and precious hope.

So yeah. She understood Caleb’s point.

“You ain’t saying nothing. You do think I’m an idiot. Just a hillbilly with no brains, huh?”

“No, not that. Not at all. I get it.”

“Really?”

“I’m serious. I get it.”

Caleb shot her a skeptical look. “You got a story to tell, don’t you?”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“We got a long walk ahead of us. Why not get to know each other?”

“I don’t get to know people,” Kara said. “Not worth it. Soon as we find Rosie and the others, soon as we find the Hybrids, then this mission is through. I go my way. You go yours.”

“Even so, I wouldn’t mind getting to know who I’m working with.”

“No. I’m not Rosie. No need to get to know me.”

Caleb practically staggered backward.

Perhaps that had been a bit too harsh. But to keep your boundaries, sometimes you had to be. “Let’s just focus on finding Rosie so you can have someone else to talk to.”

Caleb didn’t press her anymore. For that, she was thankful.

They continued through the forest, up and down the slopes, insects buzzing, the earthy fragrance of the trees enveloping them. It took over half an hour before Kara finally spoke again. “Look, Caleb, I’m not trying to be a jerk.”

He opened his mouth. She could already see he was going to try to dismiss her clumsy apology.

“No, look, I just don’t like people prying into my business. It… complicates things. We good?”

“You’re helping me find Rosie. We good.”

“I just ask one thing.”

“What’s that?”

She smiled. “Next time you think I need help, don’t go blasting your rifle next to my head and calling every Skull in the area to our position. Deal?”

He returned her smile. “I got a perfectly good hatchet I can use next time.”

Okay, once again, he was proving he wasn’t so bad. She almost wished she was wrong about most likely finding Rosie dead. She wanted to see him happy. It would be worth far more than the reward money to reunite him and Rosie. A win would feel good.

Kara crouched next to some footprints. They were deep in the mud between the crushed grass and leaves. She sniffed at the air. Thought she got a whiff of carrion.

Sometimes Hybrids who had been away from society and hadn’t showered in a while started to smell like Skulls instead of normal human BO.

That could be a sign they were close.

They started down the trail, sneaking between trees and bushes. The morning light caught on droplets of crimson drying over the leaves of a dogwood.

She pointed it out to Caleb. He nodded.

If the blood hadn’t completely dried yet, they must be close. Real close.

She picked up her speed while trying to maintain stealth. Hybrids moved fast. She needed to move faster if she had any hope of finding them.

The odor of rot grew stronger. She found more blood on the leaves and grass. Her heart began to race. This had to be it. They were closing in on their targets.

Then she saw it. A flash of tawny, the color of sun-bleached bones between the leaves. Moving. And just as soon, it was gone.

“Did you see that?” she whispered to Caleb.

He shook his head.

Crap. She hoped it wasn’t just her fatigue playing tricks on her senses. Showing her what she wanted to see.

She pushed ahead through the long blades of grass and dangling branches.

Then she heard the rattle of bone plates through the whispering trees. Hybrid or Skull, she knew she heard something that time. She looked back at Caleb. He confirmed her suspicions with a nod.

Good. She wasn’t going crazy.

Kara had him watch her back, hatchet in one hand as she snuck forward with her rifle. Moving around a bush, she saw them. Three Skulls. They were just a couple yards from her position, rustling through the vegetation as if searching for something.

She froze, watching for a moment.

One had its nose to the ground, sniffing noisily. Spikes jutted from its vertebrae, and only tattered clothes hung off its deformed body. Another had its face stuck in the air, eyes darting between the trees, mouth open, revealing fanged teeth. Dried blood coated its lips and jaws. The third looked around as if watching the backs of the other two, its long claws dangling from crooked fingers.

Caleb was positioned in the bushes to her left, his hatchet at the ready.

The Skull sniffing the ground dragged its gray tongue over a leaf. That was when Kara realized what it was doing. Licking up the blood. They seemed to be after the same targets.

After a few seconds, the Skulls dropped to all fours. They prowled along the path. Kara and Caleb had no choice but to follow at a distance.

The beasts were going slower than Kara would have liked. But it wasn’t as if she could easily bypass them. They would need to be dispatched. The question was when. If she devised a trap… or better yet, if she could draw them away, then—

A sudden explosion of flapping wings burst from the foliage. Two birds shot over the Skulls’ heads and flapped right past Kara and Caleb.

All three Skulls turned to watch the birds, saliva dripping from their demonic maws. And of course, as the animals disappeared into the foliage, the monsters’ eyes fell on new prey.

Kara and Caleb.

So much for having time to come up with a plan. One of the Skulls whipped its head back, ready to howl. Kara ran headlong at it, cranking back her rifle. Then she smashed the weapon’s stock hard into its mouth. Bone cracked, and bloody saliva sprayed from the impact. The creature reeled backward, slashing wildly at Kara as she hammered it again.

The next closest beast hissed at her, going straight into attack mode. But its assault lasted only a second until a hatchet blade thunked into its forehead. Caleb planted his boot into the beast’s chest then tried to pry the hatchet out.

But the beast was still alive, and the hatchet was stuck. The blade hadn’t fully penetrated the thick bone of the Skull’s forehead.

As Caleb used the hatchet handle to drive the Skull backward, Kara slammed the rifle butt into her target’s face again. Its orbital cavity smashed to bits. Kara swung the rifle one more time into the beast’s head. The monster’s neck twisted with a sickening snap, and the beast fell backward, knocking into its brethren. Somehow, both were still alive. They fell into the leaves and bushes, slashing and snapping, attacking each other in their confusion as they struggled to right themselves. That gave Kara just enough time to pull a knife from her thigh sheath. She lunged at the third beast that still had its face fully intact. Then she stabbed.

The blade popped through the eyeball and pierced the delicate brain matter. The Skull’s limbs jolted then went slack, the abomination’s mouth falling open as it rolled to the side, coming to rest in the weeds.

The second beast pushed itself to its feet, head tilted. Blood dripped from its wounds. It lumbered toward Kara. She had her knife in one hand, her rifle in the other like a club. The Skull growled through a mouth full of broken teeth. Red bubbles bloomed and popped from its throat. It took a step toward Kara, its claws stretched out.

Caleb burst from the low-lying trees by its side. He slammed his hatchet into the back of the Skull’s neck. The beast went limp, immediately paralyzed, but its mouth still chattered and snapped. When it thumped against the ground, Caleb tore the hatchet out and sent it thunking home again, right into the middle of the creature’s head.

Finally, it went still.

“How was that?” Caleb asked.

“Better,” Kara said.

“Do you—” Caleb froze. He was staring at something behind her.

Kara slowly twisted on her heels. Her blood froze. Any satisfaction with a well-earned victory had quickly been dashed by the macabre sight emerging from the woods around her.

-17-

Kara slowly twisted her rifle back to a shooting position. The drone of the insects had returned, cicadas buzzing loudly. Birds began singing. It was as if the rest of the forest was eager to move on from the bloodshed.

Only the animals had no idea this deadly conflict might not be over.

Kara prepared to line up the first target in her iron sights. But there were six to choose from. Each had the arcing claws and bony brow of the monsters she and Caleb had just killed. Their eyes were bloodshot, and fanged teeth curved out of their mouths, adapted perfectly for severing through the toughest of tendons.

Caleb breathed heavily just a step behind her and to the left. “Do we shoot now?”

Kara’s instincts told her to begin firing immediately. That was the only surefire way to prevent being torn to fleshy ribbons. But something didn’t sit right with her. The whole scene felt off.

Six Skulls emerging from the woods, surrounding them. Quietly. Without a shriek. Staring at them in silence. No, this wasn’t normal Skull behavior.

“Wait,” she told Caleb.

“What for?”

God, she was glad he was a good listener. Most people would’ve begun shooting already. But he had discipline. A calmness that belied their first confused meeting.

One of the Skulls stood taller from behind the bushes. It raised a single clawed hand. Not in anticipation of striking Kara down. And to top it off, the bony horns curving from its brow, the bulky shoulder blades rising behind its back, let her know this human had been transformed for years.

Only the clothes it wore weren’t rotted. No. It sported a camouflage jacket. The sleeves were ripped off. Muscles bulged under the bone plates coursing down its arms. It wore dark-gray cargo pants. A leather belt held them in place.

No, this was no normal Skull.

It was a Hybrid.

“What are you doing here?” the Hybrid asked, his voice gravelly and deep.

Kara waited a beat. The other Hybrids waited in a semicircle. Their eyes darted between Caleb and Kara. Except for this sleeveless guy, the others were still half hidden by bushes and tree trunks. If Kara had to guess, there were even more Hybrids she couldn’t see. She couldn’t even smell them. These people obviously bathed, holding on to what was left of their humanity.

How the hell had they encircled her?

She cursed herself for getting so wrapped up in the chase that she’d let someone else ambush her. Maybe it was because she’d been distracted by making sure Caleb was following the program.

Crap.

“You understand English, don’t you?” the Hybrid asked again.

“I do,” Kara replied.

“Maybe we can start over.” His eyes shot toward her gun. “Could you not point that at me?”

Kara lowered the weapon but didn’t loosen her grip on it.

“I’m not gonna,” Caleb said.

“Go on,” Kara said.

The lead Hybrid held both palms facing out, claws in the air. “We are not armed.”

“Your whole dang body’s a weapon!” Caleb shouted back.

Kara hadn’t seen the guy angry, but she suddenly didn’t like having him slightly behind her where she couldn’t see him.

“We can’t help who we are,” the Hybrid said, far more measured than Kara expected after Caleb’s outburst. “If I could holster these claws like you can holster your gun, you can bet your sweet ass I would’ve done that years ago.”

Caleb took a step forward, his weapon shaking. A couple of the Hybrids pushed up from the foliage, looking ready to pounce. The ground was still thirsty for blood. Kara didn’t want to be the one to give it.

“Come on, Caleb,” she said. “Let’s cool it.”

“Screw that. I’m not letting these people eat us!”

“Eat you?” The Hybrid staggered back like he’d been punched in the gut. “You think we want to eat you?”

“You’re just a damn Skull that can gab. Don’t try this shit with me!”

A couple of the Hybrids growled. They sounded angered by Caleb’s assertions. The fact that they started rising from their hiding spots, slinking closer, claws extended, sure as hell didn’t prove Caleb wrong. The situation was unraveling faster than the Hybrids had appeared.

Kara didn’t want to be the one to start shooting. Sometimes, the only way to win a gunfight was to be the one that fired first. But something about the situation had Kara’s mind working in overdrive.

Instead of focusing on an escape, she needed to focus on obtaining intel. After all, if the Hybrids wanted her and Caleb dead, they wouldn’t have bothered talking.

Then again, it could be a ruse. Could be a trick to get them to let down their guard… because these people wanted information too.

Ah, the possibilities were starting to get confusing.

With Caleb sweating bullets, his finger on the trigger, muscles trembling, she took a step toward the lead Hybrid and let her rifle fall on its sling, hanging in front of her.

Please, don’t let this be a mistake.

She held out a hand, crunching through the leaves and roots.

“Kara! Don’t!” Caleb said.

“Trust me, Caleb.”

He didn’t lower his weapon.

She turned back to him. “Caleb.”

“You’re going to get us killed, Kara.”

“I’m not.”

She hoped she was telling the truth.

Caleb started to lower his weapon. He didn’t let it drop entirely, but she thought she saw a hint of relief in the lead Hybrid’s gaze. The monstrous-looking man turned back to Kara, taking a step forward. His hand met hers.

He didn’t shake her hand with the hearty, strong grip most people used. Instead, it was gentler. His clawed fingers barely wrapped around hers. Not because she was a woman. But because, she gathered, this guy knew his strength and the danger of those claws.

“Kara, I gather,” he said.

She nodded.

“I’m Devon. I’d say it’s good to meet you, but I haven’t yet decided.” His eyes darted toward Caleb again. “I promise I’m not going to eat you. Whatever you think we look like, none of us has any interest in cannibalism. If you knew Hybrids, you’d know that was as true as the sky is blue. A Big Mac and fries are more my speed. Understand?”

Caleb said nothing.

“I heard him speak English,” Devon said. “I know he understands us.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Caleb hissed.

“Cool your jets, man.” Devon put both hands out. “Look, if I wanted to kill you guys, it would’ve happened.”

“I don’t—”

Kara turned back to Caleb. “Caleb. He’s not lying. Let’s talk. Maybe they know something about Rosie.”

She expected that to calm him down. Instead, crimson flushed through his cheeks, and he started to raise his weapon again. She hadn’t meant to light that fuse, whatever it was.

Kindness wasn’t winning favors. Time to bring out the fire. “Caleb, knock that shit off right now!” She yanked his rifle down, pulling it out of his hands. “My mission.”

Caleb fumed, his nose scrunched. He seemed just as angry at her as he was at Devon.

Then four more Hybrids strode out of the woods, surrounding Devon.

One of the women hissed, lips curling back in a snarl. “We should run them out of here! If they want to fight, I’ll fight.”

Adrenaline spiked through Kara’s vessels. Oh crap, she’d made a mistake. The woman took another couple steps toward Kara, claws slicing back.

“Give it a break!” Devon said, grabbing the back of the women’s black jacket and yanking her toward him. “No one here is fighting anyone!” Then he locked eyes with Kara. “Feels like you and me are the only adults in the room, huh?”

Kara’s heart was still racing. But she was glad to see Devon retain a relative air of calm despite the thick tendrils of tension threatening to explode into chaos.

“You were asking why we were here,” Kara said. “Maybe you all can help us.”

She explained their search for the missing people from Cumberland, seeing the slaughtered cattle, then tracking a Skull trail through the woods. As she spoke, she noticed the daggers the Hybrids were staring at her and Caleb start to soften. Even Caleb began to chill out, realizing that they weren’t going to be immediately massacred.

“Then we found those cabins,” Kara said. “Saw a woman that was killed there, a bunch of talon prints trailing away, and that led us here.”

“I see,” Devon said. “You think we killed them?”

“It was your talons in their homes,” Caleb said, voice dripping in venom.

“It was. You’re right. But we didn’t do the killing.”

“Explain.”

Devon sighed. “Those cabins were occupied by a group of survivalists. We have an amicable relationship with them for the most part.”

“Until you betrayed them.”

“Cool it,” Devon said. “We listen to you. You listen to us. Or you can leave.” Devon pointed through the trees, back toward the cabins. “Your choice.”

“Caleb, just hear the guy out,” Kara said. “Go on, Devon.”

“As for the cattle, yeah, we were hungry. We needed food to take back to our families. But we didn’t make as big of a mess as you described.”

“Where do you live?” Kara asked.

“That’s a question I don’t really want to answer. We’re like those survivalists, all right? Found out society isn’t as cool with us as you’d hope. Tried to fit in over the years.” He held up his claws. “Obviously didn’t work out so great. So we found each other, discovered a ghost town suitable for us, and made it our own. Thing is, trade and food are getting harder to find.” He hung his head low. “We tried to take one cow.”

He wouldn’t meet her gaze as he continued. “I know it was a rotten thing to do, stealing like that. We felt we didn’t have much of a choice. No one around here is hiring us for jobs. Living off the land is hard when the Skulls are popping up more and more.”

“You’ve been seeing a lot of them lately?”

Devon nodded. “Used to be peaceful. Then all of a sudden, boom. They hunt everything to extinction around here. And even the gardens and crops we’ve managed to grow aren’t enough to sustain us. Hard year.”

“Yeah, hard year for all of us,” Caleb said. “No one gets a pass for stealing.”

“Caleb, please,” Kara said.

“I get it, Caleb,” Devon said. “Some Hybrid did some shit to you and yours, and you obviously got some issues you need to work on. I am not that Hybrid.” He indicated the rest of the crew with his claws. “Neither are these people.”

Caleb glared at him.

“Please, Devon, go on,” Kara said.

“The first dead cow must’ve attracted more Skulls. We managed to take a small pack of them down and dragged their bodies back into the woods. Next day, though, we heard more Skulls. And I think that’s when they descended on the herd, slaughtering the rest of the cattle. Next thing we know, we hear human screams. Like I said, we know the people that lived in those cabins. They were just as hungry as us. Tried to grab themselves some of the cattle and ended up attracting a group of other Skulls.

“We couldn’t sit by and do nothing, so when we heard the Skulls on the hunt, we went down to the cabins. Damn near all of them were hurt. We had to carry most to our homes.” He paused, his eyes once again falling toward his taloned feet. “‘Course we were too late for Suzanne. Tell you what, you want to see ‘em, we can blindfold you and take you to our place.”

Then he looked at Caleb. “Scratch that. Kara, I’d take you. But not this guy.”

Kara weighed her desire to check out this Hybrid village versus her mission. As much as she wanted to follow Devon to see what was going on with his people, if it wouldn’t get her closer to finding Rosie, Hudson, and Maureen, then it wasn’t the right move. “That’s okay,” Kara said. “Truth is, we need to find those missing people. If they aren’t with you all, then I’ve got to get moving.”

“Can you describe these people you’re looking for?”

“I can do you one better.” Kara took out the carefully folded posters of the missing people, showing their sketches and pictures.

Devon studied them. Then he took one of the posters gently between his claws. “May I?”

“Please.”

He passed the posters out to his people, and they studied the images.

One of the men looked up at her. “You said these people came from Cumberland?”

“You recognize them?” Kara asked.

“Nah, but we did notice a new group of people not far from here,” the guy said. “We got a couple scouts that were watching them.”

Devon piped in. “Can never be too careful. Didn’t know if these people meant us any harm.”

“What kind of people you talking about?” Kara asked, cocking her head.

“Normal people, don’t know what to say,” the other guy continued. “They sing a lot. Looks like they do sermons and shit. Set up in a small town just a couple miles from here.”

“What do they have to do with Cumberland?” Caleb asked.

“Well, they send people up and down the roads between their place and Cumberland to go preach. Shoot, they’re sending people everywhere from what we could see. Kind of like some Church of Latter Day Saints thing. You know, the door knockers asking if you found Jesus or something.”

“You think they know about our missing people?” Kara asked.

“I’m not saying that for certain,” the Hybrid said. “But these people do a lot of traveling, by the looks of it. If someone knows something, I wouldn’t be surprised if they do. Might be worth talking to them.”

“Might be,” Kara agreed.

The Hybrids were happy to show her where the town was on her map. It was a small place called Little Orleans, just east of the State Park.

“If you come back this way for any reason, know that we’ll be around,” Devon said. “I’m always willing to help a friendly face.”

“Why would you do that?” Caleb asked.

“To prove to you we’re not the monsters you think we are.”

“How will we find you?” Kara asked.

“Walk around the woods around here long enough, we’ll find you.” Then Devon laughed. “Also, I’ve got a sat phone. So long as everything’s in alignment and I got the phone charged, you can reach me.”

She gave him a small notebook and pen in which he scrawled his number.

“Just be careful if you go down to Little Orleans,” Devon said, handing the notebook and pen back. “I think the people down there might be associated with the Children of Kusanagi. I’d scope it out before you run in and start talking to people.”

“The Children are annoying, but I thought they were harmless,” Kara said.

“I haven’t heard of them killing anyone or anything,” Devon said. “But let me tell you, they remind me of an old girlfriend I had. She gave me this tingling feeling when she looked at me. Not because of the reasons a good-looking woman usually gives a man tingling feelings. The kind that make you think something is off. One night, I missed a couple of her texts because I was exhausted after pulling a double at the hospital. Woke up to the sight of my car burning in my driveway and spray paint on my garage door that said, ‘DEATH TO CHEATERS.’ These people give me those kinda vibes.”

-18-

A projection screen hung at the forward section of the mess. Being the biggest space on the ship, it wasn’t just a good place to grab a bite to eat but also the best place to gather the whole crew. Dom and Meredith stood at the front of the space, preparing to brief the crew on the upcoming mission.

Scattered in the seats around the rows of tables bolted into the deck were the rest of the personnel. The combined science and med team—Sean, Navid, and Peter—were right next to visiting researchers Shelton and Hooper. Miguel sat at a table surrounded by the field operations team, Andris, Jenna, and two of their younger sailors, Rachel Kaufman and Rory Booker. The duo had been midshipmen studying at the Annapolis Naval Academy and had been guest stars on the Hunters’ missions in the past. They officially joined up after the defeat of the FGL based on a recommendation from one of Dom’s closest allies, Colonel Shepherd, former garrison commander of Fort Detrick. Rachel was athletic, a runner type, lean and muscular. Rory was no stranger to the gym, bulking up with Miguel and Andris.

Samantha and Chao sat near Miguel. Chao was fiddling with one of Miguel’s spare prosthetic arms. Sadie and a couple of the other ship engineers were situated near them. Finally, the team’s pilots were in the back. Frank Battaglia, a living cliché with aviators propped up on his head, and Raquel “Jett” Iglesias, a streak of pink in her black hair. She’d joined them after a disastrous mission in Iraq trying to stamp out the FGL years ago.

Even with the crew assembled, the mess seemed half empty. Dom couldn’t help but think of the others who had left the Hunters over the years. Former Navy SEAL and current Hybrid, Brendon O’Neil. Terrence Connor, a man who had lost both his legs early in the Tide, had taken his leave from the Hunters a few years ago. Glenn Walsh, former Green Beret, polyglot, bookworm, hulking badass, and now husband of Lauren Winters, scientific and medical genius. They’d set up a clinic in Providence together years ago and now had a daughter. Former philanthropic doctor Divya Karnak, who had served Doctors without Borders well before the Tide and had gone to do just that again.

Not to mention the countless others who’d given their lives in the fight. Their names were enshrined on plaques on one bulkhead of the mess.

“Before we begin, know that whatever we say today stays on this ship.” Dom shot a look at Hooper and Shelton to ensure they understood. The rest of the crew knew how these things went. Loose lips, sinking ships. But the newbies, authorized by Thornfield himself, might not be used to the same rigors of secrecy and intel. That being said, he wasn’t about to reveal anything too sensitive. He didn’t trust these guys yet.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat anything,” Dom said. “The US is potentially facing a dire threat.”

“More than the Skulls?” Miguel asked with a smirk.

“Let’s just say the Skulls might have competition,” Meredith said.

“Hit us with the intel, Mere,” Dom said, taking a seat.

“For those of you who are unaware, the field team rescued Doctor Shelton and Mr. Hooper here from Evergreen Solutions last night in the middle of a Skull attack.” She summarized the field team’s activities over the previous twenty-four hours. “We’ve been given express authorization by Thornfield to investigate the data we recovered from both sites. Our goal for both the science and tech teams will be to establish why these facilities were targeted during this time.”

Chao raised one hand, his head moving back and forth as he examined the wires splaying from a panel in the prosthetic arm.

“Chao, go ahead,” she said.

“Is it possible to access the data of other agricultural facilities in the region?” Chao asked. “If there’s a pattern to the attacks, it may be just as helpful to see what other similar labs were or weren’t doing.”

“Good point, and we can clear any such operations with Thornfield.”

“You think these companies will agree to just spread their notebooks open for us?” Samantha asked.

“You know what to do if they’re uncooperative.”

“You want me to hack into US companies?” Samantha asked, eyebrow raised. “How bad of a problem are we actually dealing with here?”

“This is a matter of national security,” Meredith said. “Because it’s not just a few attacks on some facilities and farms. We’re also dealing with another epidemic.”

Groans echoed throughout the mess.

“This time, it’s not one that directly threatens people. Or at least, I should say it doesn’t directly infect humans.” She clicked a key on her laptop. A projection shone across the screen, red dots spread up from Maryland and around New England. “Our new friends from Evergreen were studying their own seed stock based on reports of crop blight from their customers. We’ve mapped the reports of crop blight provided by Shelton and Hooper.”

She clicked through to another slide. The red dots on the map nearly tripled. They spread from the East Coast toward Kansas, though they were markedly less dense in the Midwest. By far the most saturated region was New England.

“Honestly, reaching out through our network, it didn’t take long to fill this map out. We’re looking at widespread crop blight.” She took a deep breath. “Imagine a whole country full of hungry people—and we’re not just talking about Skulls.”

The mess stayed quiet.

“One more complicating factor,” Meredith said. “Many of the locations where we received reports of crop blight, we also found increased Skull activity. Now, correlation doesn’t necessarily mean causation. We know that agricultural lands are far less heavily populated than urban areas, so naturally, surviving Skulls are clustered in those areas as they migrate. Continued Skull extermination efforts have also been difficult. Concentrated chemical agent attacks to eliminate Skulls have all but ceased because of the side effects they’ve had on people who are Hybrids, and even the general population at large.”

She stepped away from the computer, pacing in front of the screen. The projected images morphed around her face and torso as she walked through them.

“One of the issues with crop blight is that it is notoriously difficult to stop. Most of the time, blight cannot be cured. Your best bet is to destroy infected crops before the blight spreads through a whole field.” She gestured toward the map again. “Farmers have been hesitant to do that. A lot of money and food is on the line. So this blight has spread unmitigated already for too long. The government’s stepping in to recommend some swift action, and we’re one of the units that have been activated to respond to this crisis.”

Chao raised his hand again. “Do we know for certain that every report of blight is caused by the same disease? How can we be certain these really are all connected?”

“Another good point,” Meredith said. “And that’s a perfect segue.”

She took a seat as Dom took the floor.

“We’re going to divide and conquer for the next few days,” Dom said. “First off, we’re going to separate the field operators into teams. We’ll be taking samples from several of these locations to bring back to the lab for analysis. The field teams’ secondary objective is to survey Skull activity surrounding the infected crops. We want to uncover any possible connections between the blight and the Skulls.”

Then Dom turned to the science team. “Thornfield has government labs on the job. But he also wants us to work independently in analyzing the blight. You’ll characterize the blight samples genotypically and phenotypically. If possible, we will determine the origin of it as well.”

“This is starting to sound a lot like the Oni Agent all over again,” Sadie said.

“Which is why we’ve been tapped to spearhead this project,” Dom said. “It absolutely mirrors the steps we took to understand and do our best to slow the Oni Agent. Only no one has ever completely eradicated the Oni Agent. We’re going to have to do better than that with this, or there will be a lot of empty bellies this winter.”

“What happens when we figure out what’s causing the blight?” Navid asked.

“We’ve been tasked with finding a cure.”

Sean’s eyes went wide. Shelton scoffed. Hooper shook his head like he thought it was impossible. Navid simply nodded.

“Hey, it’s not like any of you all have had to do that before, right?” Dom asked with a grin. “Look, treating Skulls is hard when the patient doesn’t want to be treated and prefers to eat you instead. But these plants aren’t going anywhere. Spraying them down will be relatively easy, according to Thornfield. You all just need to figure out what kills the blight without killing the plant. I’ve seen you do the impossible before, so let’s do it again. No big deal, right?”

-19-

Miguel sat at the bow of the Bethany, legs dangling over the side. He sipped from an amber bottle of New Haven Lager, as it was creatively called. A local brew. Craft breweries were everywhere now. People might’ve needed bullets and food to survive the initial apocalypse, but now beer got them through the postapocalypse.

Jenna draped her legs over the gunwale, joining Miguel. She had a beer in her hand. “Chao did all right on that arm?”

Miguel rotated his prosthetic, showing off the tears in the silicone cover. “Scratches and scrapes are still there. Doesn’t look pretty, but she gets the job done.”

“That’s what she said,” Andris said, lowering himself on Miguel’s other side.

“You learn one joke,” Jenna said, “and you repeat it forever. When are you going to stop?”

Andris’s rugged face broke into a shit-eating grin. “That is what she said.”

Miguel laughed. Couldn’t help it. There was something about that stupidly cheesy one-liner that was made all the funnier when it came with a rough Latvian accent. “You want a beer?”

“Does a fish swim?” Andris asked.

Miguel reached into the cooler behind him and handed one to Andris, who waved off the bottle opener and placed the cap against the gunwale then hit it with the top of his hand, popping it open.

“This whole mission is weird, right?” Miguel asked the other two.

He watched the gentle waves lap up against the pier. Other boats bobbed slowly. People carted goods up and down the shipyard, between warehouses.

Andris was first to answer. “Yes, it is weird. I am not used to chasing down diseases in plants. I do not care about plants. I do not like seeing them. I do not like eating them. Give me a steak and eggs. I will survive off that.”

Jenna huffed. “All right, we get it. You’re a carnivore. Worse than a Skull. But yeah, Miguel, this is weird. We all know it. Ever since the Tide, any time someone mentions that some disease is spreading, my mind goes straight toward bioweapons.”

“You know Meredith and Dom are thinking it too,” Miguel said.

He was almost relieved to hear Jenna voice his concerns because everything they’d learned in the past twenty-four hours had been weighing on his mind. They knew what it was like to witness the first hint of a disaster before the entire country burned.

“We worked so damn hard to keep the US on track,” Miguel said. “Hell, we worked hard just to keep our crew intact. I’m sure as hell not going to let this turn into another Tide.”

Andris chugged his beer then wiped his hand over his mouth. He grabbed another from the cooler. “None of us will let that happen.”

“I don’t care if the blight is man-made or natural,” Jenna said. “We can stop it. We have to stop it.” A breeze rustled between them, tousling her short blond hair. “Let’s say for a second it is natural,” she went on. “That’s easy. The science geeks will figure out where it came from. Probably some fungus or bacteria that was already out there. Then they just need to find some plant-disease killer thing that works. Right?”

“You think the explanation could really be this simple?” Andris asked.

“I’m no scientist,” Miguel said. “But if we’re talking about a natural disease, could be. I’m sure farmers haven’t been keeping up with all that pesticide and chemical stuff they used to deal with pre-Tide.”

Andris furrowed his brow. “And because they did not, something slipped through the cracks, as you’d say.”

“Makes sense,” Jenna said. “It’s a lot easier to keep your crops healthy when the ag supply lines are normal. Right now? I mean, I know none of us have any real idea what it’s like running a farm, but I got to think that if it’s hard for us to get the bullets we want, it’s got to be really hard for them to get the chemicals and crap they use on their farms. All the technology that made all that crop-growing stuff easy is probably kaput at this point.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Miguel said. “I remember that book we had to read in school. Fruits of Wrath, or something?”

“Grapes of Wrath.” Jenna corrected him.

“Whatever. It was about the dust bowl stuff, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What is a dust bowl?” Andris asked. “Is this something you smoke from?”

“You being funny on purpose?” Miguel asked.

“No, you may as well be speaking Chinese.”

“Dude, you’ve been working for this country for so long. You ought to learn a little more of our history before the Cold War.”

Andris blew a raspberry. “Ben Franklin. George Washington. Abraham Lincoln. Teddy Roosevelt.”

Jenna was squinting at her beer as if to see how much she had left in the brown bottle. “Listing presidents doesn’t count.”

“Imagine a real bad drought,” Miguel said. “Land just dried up and strong winds started kicking up all this dust into a huge storm. If I remember right, the farmers couldn’t grow crap. A lot of people starved or had to move or some shit. The farmers didn’t really understand how prairie grass kept all that dirt down before they turned everything into farmland. They killed the soil and didn’t realize that you needed to rotate crops to prevent that dust crap.”

“Okay, this blight does not sound like a dust bowl,” Andris said.

“What he’s saying is that people then didn’t understand how to prevent that kind of disaster,” Jenna said. “And right now, this blight thing might just be another natural disaster people forgot how to prevent.”

“That seems possible,” Andris said. “The captain said people weren’t treating the blight fast enough.”

“Yeah, hopefully that’s all it is.”

They were all quiet for a second. Gulls squawked overhead. Distant voices echoed over the water, accompanied by the growl and groan of heavy machinery.

“But none of us believe that, right?” Miguel asked after a solid minute of staring out and drinking.

“Nope,” Jenna said.

“It is completely disbelievable,” Andris said.

“You mean unbelievable.”

Andris shook his head. “All the opposites of believing. Someone who hates us probably did this.”

“Someone who hates us…” Miguel toyed with the idea. “You all think the FGL is still out there?”

“Russia, Iran, all those extremist assholes that started the apocalypse,” Jenna said. “Yeah, yeah, why not? I mean Spitkovsky bided his time for decades before unleashing the Oni Agent. What’s another ten years to wait for revenge?”

“Yes, but we killed Spitkovsky,” Andris said, referring to the Russian bioweapons scientist. “You think one of his underlings really took over?”

“It’s possible,” Miguel said. “I mean, crap, you have any idea what’s happening around the world right now?”

Neither of them had good answers for him.

“Even our best intel groups have had a hard time rebuilding the networks lost during the Tide. For all we know, there might be twenty different groups across the world filling the vacuum the FGL left behind.”

Andris nodded sagely. “You cannot discount the homegrown groups. Hybrid dissidents who are tired of bad treatment. Cults like Children of Kusanagi stupid enough to come after our ship. Religious terrorist cells that never really went away.”

“You know, I was talking to Meredith, and she mentioned they even suspected rival ag companies might be responsible for the attacks on Murdock and Evergreen,” Jenna said. “Could you imagine if some asshole in a company like that unleashed the blight to get ahead of their competitors? Then ended up screwing over way more farms than they intended?”

“Yes, yes, I can imagine,” Andris said. “People are tremendously stupid. So many people, so many stupids.”

“People aren’t just stupid,” Miguel said. “They’re getting desperate. Remember, we were the scapegoat for the Oni Agent in the beginning. When people are scared, they need something to blame. Some of these stupid people are just lashing out because they don’t know what the hell else to do. Sit at home and starve? Or go out and try to make some kind of misguided political statement with some Molotov cocktails? It’s all a bunch of bullshit.”

Andris grinned, leaning back, the sun soaking over him. “And we have the immense pleasure of wading through all this bullshit to see who pooped it out.”

“Couldn’t put it better myself,” Jenna said.

“Hey, I guess we’re good at dealing with bullshit.” Miguel grinned. “Else we never would’ve let Andris hang with us this long.”

-20-

Dom was in the electronics workshop with Sean, Meredith, and Samantha. The computer monitors and PC cases around Samantha’s desk were covered in stickers from bands that no longer existed. A glass bottle filled with some radioactive-green energy drink sat beside her keyboard.

The drinks had made a slow comeback since manufacturing facilities around the country had been tentatively restored. Dom always thought, if he was an investing type, he would’ve put as much money as possible into food and beverage companies. They were like cockroaches. Nearly impossible to kill off. They weathered recessions, depressions, and even apocalypses better than most other businesses. People needed to eat, no matter what.

Which obviously made this mission so important.

“Sean, any updates on the data from Murdock and Evergreen?” Dom asked.

Sean’s head bobbed. “Shelton and Hooper helped Navid and me scour through everything. Most of the samples and notebooks we brought back were related to genetically engineering crops. The company was working on improving their pest and disease resistance. We didn’t find any definitive answers there. But the samples that were missing from Murdock might be another story.”

“How so?” Meredith asked.

“A whole bunch of things were gone. There were a few different experimental samples related to their GMOs in development. There were also some samples missing that included quality assurance work on their current products. A few of the QA-related samples were GMOs sent back from farmers for analysis. The customers reported blight in supposedly blight-resistant crops. So that’s a thing.”

Meredith arched her eyebrows. “So, we have a Skull attack at Evergreen when they’re looking at samples infected by blight, and it seems like the same thing happened at Murdock.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Dom started, “it would seem like someone’s trying to prevent us from looking at the blight. Mere, what’s the spread of the disease look like?”

“I managed to wrangle up a few more reports on crop blight and Skull activity today.”

She’d been on the sat phone since early this morning, working all her contacts and then making new ones, doing what she did best: procuring intel and data.

“Samantha, have you gotten them all integrated in your models?” Dom asked.

Samantha had a set of over-the-ear headphones wrapped around her head. Tinny music played from them. Dom thought he recognized the enduring vocals of Ozzy Osbourne in Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs.”

“Yeah, my data set is complete,” Samantha said. “Everything’s organized. Date. Location. Extent of infection. Pretty easy to compile, really.”

“Sean, can we integrate that with your epidemiological software?” Dom asked.

The scientist nodded. “Shouldn’t take long at all.” He propped his laptop on an empty desk next to Samantha’s.

She hooked an ethernet cable to it, allowing him to directly connect to the private supercomputer she managed aboard the ship. For a whole bunch of technical reasons Dom had only a tenuous grasp on, they had exactly 512 humming processors taking up the back half of the electronics workshop. Liquid cooling units and stacked racks helped reduce the floor space of the supercomputer setup. It wasn’t the fanciest nor the fastest. But it was the closest thing to a massive supercomputer to which they had unrestricted and reliable access.

For the tasks at hand, Samantha promised it would be “ridiculous overkill,” but Dom always preferred being overprepared to being underprepared. That one time you didn’t think you needed that one extra mag, you got caught in the field against a hundred Skulls with an empty rifle.

“Wherever these infections started is where I want to send our teams to collect samples,” Dom said.

“Say no more,” Sean said.

He punched a few keys on his laptop.

Samantha waited a few seconds, watching her screen. “Boom, we got it.”

“Throw it on the big screen,” Dom said.

“I’m going to do a reverse time-lapse. Then you can see where the blight started.”

On the forward bulkhead, eight big monitors were set up to make one huge screen showing a map of the United States. A storm of red dots clustered from Ohio up to Maine, going as far south as Virginia. New England and eastern Midwest regions showed the densest numbers of blight infections.

“I’ve also mapped recent upticks in Skull activity,” Samantha said.

More dots appeared, these ones green. Many coincided in areas with high prevalences of blight.

“All right, take us back to the beginning,” Dom said.

“Time traveling now,” Samantha replied.

The red and green dots dissipated like a receding wave. Days ticked back toward the early summer, and the spread of dots representing the Skull attacks, for the most part, shrank with them.

“Here’s when we think it began,” Samantha said.

The map wasn’t what Dom had expected. He thought there’d be a single area, a single spot where the blight had originated. There were clusters of blight deep in central Pennsylvania, western Vermont, and western Ohio. Skull attack increases seemed to follow a similar pattern.

“We’re not missing any data?” Dom asked.

“I work with what I got,” Samantha said.

She turned the time back just a matter of days, and all those concentrated constellations of blight reports completely disappeared. They were left with random speckles spread across the country.

“This map right here more closely resembles historical data of blight infections in normal years,” Samantha said then moved the images forward one day to show the sudden bloom of infections.

Sean gestured to the monitors. “For all intents and purposes, this date is our control. Our Day Zero, if you will. We see a sudden and clear inexplicable uptick in blight, anomalous with all the data we’ve got post-Tide and even pre-Tide.”

“Then correct me if I’m wrong,” Dom said, “but we got three very distinct points of origin.”

“No correction needed,” Sean said.

“Shit,” Dom said.

“What’s the rub, boss?” Samantha asked.

“I was hoping we could confirm this was just a naturally occurring blight gone bad,” Dom said.

“You’re telling me you wanted a plant epidemic?” Samantha asked.

“No. Not at all. Not one bit.” Dom paced next to the screens. “To me, it sure as hell seems highly improbable that the blight just erupts in these three locations on the same day. What do you think, Sean?”

Sean’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. “Look, here’s the scenario where this could be natural. Bear with me. Say you have someone who gets sick with a disease like Avian Flu. They’re in Hong Kong. A bunch of people at an international conference get it in Hong Kong. Then maybe they travel back to Italy and the US and South Africa and wherever else. A few days later, you see the numbers coming in for Hong Kong, along with three or more apparent epicenters.”

“But there will be a lag in spread compared to Hong Kong, right?” Meredith said.

“Right. In a human-centric pandemic, I wouldn’t expect three spots to randomly crop up. Not in a natural pandemic anyway.” He shook his head. “But we’re talking crops. That’s why Shelton and Hooper were working overtime doing QA. Because maybe you could track down the spread from seed distribution.”

“You’re saying there’s a chance that this isn’t what we’re all thinking it is,” Meredith said.

Sean nodded. “It’s possible. Some pathogen got into the seed stock—our Hong Kong in the scenario—and emerged in these locations when they planted the crops—our US, South Africa, and Italy.”

“But only three locations?” Dom asked.

“Yeah, I get your point,” Sean said. “If the seed stock was infected, I would’ve expected a much wider initial distribution pattern instead of just three index cases like this.”

Samantha had her face buried in her menagerie of computer monitors. “I got more interesting news. There’s no evidence Evergreen sold anything outside of New England. Ohio is way outside of their territory.”

“Pennsylvania?” Meredith asked.

“Not where we saw those infections.”

“Even if Evergreen sold infected seeds, even if they were responsible for spreading the blight in Vermont, there wasn’t a clear connection with how infected seeds got to Ohio and Pennsylvania.”

“Can you get any data on who might’ve sold those seeds?” Dom asked. “I want to know if we can find a common source.”

“Sure, give me a few,” Samantha said, her fingers working the keyboard. “All the crop infection reports come with seed sourcing data. And… here we go. There are three different companies that provided the seeds for the index cases in Ohio. Some came from local agricultural co-ops. Another couple through seed exchanges. Three more were from a government subsidization program. And the rest were from GrowTech, Agringineer, Syngernity, and some other small companies. Not a single one was Evergreen.”

“Virginia?” Dom asked.

“Pretty much the same story. Not a single report of Evergreen. The only reports that included Evergreen at the start of the blight spread were in Vermont. And still, that was only two of the initial eight reports. Otherwise, the seeds in all these index cases came from a ton of different sources.”

Dom knew where he was leading with all this data, but he desperately wanted to prove himself wrong. “Is there a chance that somehow these epicenters might’ve been caused by something else? Say, a fertilizer supplier, equipment, anything?”

Samantha did a few more data analysis runs. “I’m not finding any common links among these three epicenters. And you want to know something even weirder?”

“Shoot,” Dom said.

“The blight reports aren’t restricted to one type of plant. It’s soy, wheat, corn, everything. The reports are basically a dinner menu for a vegetarian.”

Meredith locked eyes with Dom. She wore a weary expression, disappointment painted across her face. “It’s happening all over again, isn’t it?”

Dom closed his eyes a second, focusing on his breath, trying not to let the iron-hot grip of anger explode through him. How the hell was he supposed to do that with what they’d just confirmed?

“Someone’s fucking with us again,” he said, his voice shaking. “Someone intentionally spread this disease. They want to watch this country crumble.” He turned to Meredith. “Warn all our counterparts domestic and abroad. We need to get ahead of this thing.” He started toward the hatch. “Let’s go stop another apocalypse.”

-21-

Kara had allowed her and Caleb only a couple hours to nap. Even though she knew the town of Little Orleans wasn’t going anywhere, she wanted to finish this mission. She’d hoped to have found evidence of Rosie and the others already. Plus, she couldn’t help but feel guilty that Dancer was waiting back in Cumberland for her, probably with no idea what was going on.

After a few hours of hiking through the dense forest, they were finally closing in on Little Orleans. Likely another hour or so to go.

Caleb had been quiet nearly the entire trek.

Every time she looked at him, he avoided her gaze. Since their encounter with the Hybrids, he’d felt off.

Emotions were a huge liability in battle. Sadness, anger, all of it could affect your decisions. And Caleb had definitely lost his cool with the Hybrids. She was lucky he hadn’t carried through and pulled that trigger. Kara couldn’t risk a nasty surprise like that again.

“You’re going to need to talk,” she said.

“You told me to be quiet.”

Malicious compliance. Great.

“Look, we’re fully grown adults,” she said. “I don’t want to get into some kind of childish argument. You screwed up back there.”

“I screwed up?” he asked. “You tried to be friends with Hybrids.”

“They didn’t hurt us. They gave us intel. You telling me we should’ve murdered them in cold blood?”

“They would’ve done the same to us.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

He crouched as he continued under a thick tree branch. “You can’t trust Hybrids. They’re Skulls that can talk.”

“No,” Kara said. “They’re humans infected by a biological weapon. Skulls are not the same.”

“Skulls didn’t start out as humans?”

“They did, but—”

“But they transformed,” Caleb said. “They’ve been mutated. So have the Hybrids.”

Kara ducked under a tangle of branches. “It’s not the same thing. The Oni Agent is straight up different than the Heikegani Agent.”

“How do you know?”

“Are you kidding?” she asked. “I…” She stopped for a second. This conversation wasn’t getting her anywhere. “What’s your deal with Hybrids? Something happened to your family?”

She saw the shift in Caleb’s attitude.

“In the early days of the Tide, my family was living in our cabin out near Mathias, close to where West Virginia and Virginia meet,” he said. “We lived up a holler, so no one came to bother us unless we wanted them too. My dad was a classic prepper. Had all the stuff. Food. Medical supplies. Water filters. You name it, he stashed it. We even had ourselves a nice crick, grew and canned a mess of our own food. We should’ve been good for two, maybe three, years. We thought we were safe.”

“What happened?”

“First, a few Skulls came to our land.” He puffed out his chest. “We fended ‘em off. Had a couple more packs attack. And then…” He winced. “It was me, my dad, my mom, and my two sisters.”

Kara kept an eye on the ground and trees, looking for signs of Skull activity. So far, so good.

Caleb continued. “We couldn’t stay at that place no more. Had to leave. Trying to hold off the Skulls didn’t work, and so many were coming. No way the five of us could stop ‘em.”

“You had to abandon your home.”

“We did. We traveled west, hoping we could escape the hordes. We would camp out at night, trying to hide, sticking to the forest, way outside populated areas. Would’ve been fine, but we couldn’t find enough to eat. Not for all five of us. So we headed north, following the Ohio River. Ran into a Skull pack and… and my younger sister got taken that day. Whole family was a wreck. We just couldn’t keep going.”

He sighed. “Then we got to one of those military outposts. Fort Wheeling, up north along the river. Almost to Pittsburgh. It was one big shelter, all walled in, fences higher than God to keep the Skulls out. My parents were a mess. Couldn’t get over what happened to my little sister. It was a good thing we had food and water provided for us for a short while. Wouldn’t be here without it.” Then he looked up at the sky. “But that didn’t last long. It was near the end of the Tide when that Heiki-whatever Agent got released in America. Wouldn’t you know it, Fort Wheeling started taking in Hybrids.”

“They needed help just like you and your family.”

“But they were dangerous. The anger got to them. The pain of all that bone growing out of their bodies. I know what the doctors and politicians and the Hybrids themselves said. But you got to remember, I watched my little sister get all torn up by a Skull. Every time I saw those Hybrids, I never knew when one of them was going to lose it and go after my other sister.”

“Did they?”

He didn’t answer.

“Caleb, what happened to the rest of your family?”

“There was this group of people in Fort Wheeling. They hated the Hybrids. Wanted them out.” He put a hand on his chest. “I swear I wasn’t with ‘em.” He sighed again. “The Hybrids got wind of this. So four of these Hybrids confronted these people and… Well, everyone started shooting, and it just started turning into a bigger and bigger mess.” His voice started to shake. “Then came the sirens. I thought they were screaming because of the fighting. But it turned out all that ruckus had attracted a horde of Skulls passing a few miles away.”

Caleb paused where he stood. Kara stopped and watched him.

“Even the Army couldn’t stop that many Skulls. Everything went crazy. It was like a wave of monsters, hitting the walls, tearing into the base, ripping apart people. I couldn’t tell Hybrid from Skull and… Well, it was too late for us to worry about who was friendly or not, and we just had to run. We had to run and get out of there, fighting our way through people and Skulls and Hybrids and everything you can imagine. I tried to help my family. I really did. But first my mom went. Then my dad tried to save her, and a Skull got him. And my sister… she… she just wasn’t fast enough.”

“I heard a lot of stories like that,” Kara said.

“You saying my sob story bores you?”

“No. That’s not what I mean. I’m saying a lot of people dealt with things like that. And it sounds terrible. I can’t even imagine… I mean, I kind of can. I lost my mom. I watched her turn right in front of me. Tried to kill me and my sister.”

“At least the Good Lord had the mercy to give my family quick deaths,” Caleb said. “I can’t imagine watching your mom turn into one of them. Trying to kill you and everything. Sweet Jesus.”

“Yeah. It’s awful.”

They started walking again.

“Still, you blame the Hybrids?” Kara asked.

“If they hadn’t come to Fort Wheeling, that fight wouldn’t have started.”

“But a Hybrid never actually hurt you or your family.”

“I see what you’re trying to do, but it ain’t working.”

Kara huffed. “I’ve met plenty of Hybrids.”

“And none have tried to attack you? Ever?”

Kara hesitated.

“I thought so,” he said.

“Tell me. How many noninfected people have tried to attack you over the years? Rob you? Kill you even?”

Caleb didn’t say anything.

“I thought so,” she said. “Hybrids are people, and a lot of people just suck. Especially when they’re desperate. Plenty of perfectly normal people tried to hurt me over the past ten years. It’s just in some people’s nature. Being a Hybrid is no different than having a gun. It’s the person that makes the choice to squeeze the trigger or slash with a claw, you know? Not the weapon. Not the Heikegani Agent alone.”

Caleb looked down at his rifle. “I don’t like admitting you have a point, but I’m willing to think about it. Still, you ever know any Hybrids? Like, really, really know them?”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely. I’ve stayed in towns where normal people and Hybrids lived side by side no issue.”

“No, I mean like a friend. Someone you worked with.”

Kara stepped over a trickling stream barely a foot wide. “You know I was a Hunter, right?”

Caleb shot her a confused look. “Me too. Deer, duck, you name it.”

“No, no. Like the military contractor group. The Hunters.”

“No shit? You?”

“My dad was—is—Dominic Holland.”

His eyes went wide. “Oh, I thought you were pulling one over back in Cumberland. I overhead you mention something about the Hunters with Tressler, but I really didn’t think you were one… Y’all were famous. For good and bad reasons.”

“Hopefully you remember the good.”

“I choose to believe the good ones. People say a lot of crap.”

“They do, and the good ones are the right ones to believe.” She winked at him. “But back to my point. One of the Hunters was Brendon O’Neil. Ever heard of him?”

Caleb shook his head.

“He was one of the very first Hybrids. One of the FGL’s test subjects.”

“He was a Hunter?” Caleb asked. “How’d that work out?”

“My dad was on an op in Morocco with the whole crew. They found this testing facility in Tangier where the FGL had imprisoned a bunch of Navy SEALs and civilians. O’Neil was one of the SEAL prisoners. At the time, the Navy wasn’t going to take him back. Not with so little known about the Hybrids. He joined up with us instead.”

“He still with y’all?”

Again, Kara hesitated. She pretended to focus on the trail ahead, listening to the insects and birds as if watching out for Skulls. “Nah, he had some things he needed to figure out,” she said. “He tried to stay in for a couple years after the Tide. But… yeah. I haven’t seen him in years.”

Caleb looked at her skeptically. “But you’re still a Hunter?”

“Not exactly.”

“How can you be not exactly? Either you are or you aren’t. Or you on some kind of sabbatical thing?”

Kara laughed at the suggestion of a sabbatical. Caleb grinned.

“Nah,” she said, navigating between the trees. “I just needed to do some things on my own.”

“Like what?”

She was starting to feel cornered. “Story for another day.”

“We got time, don’t we?”

“We’re getting close to Little Orleans.”

It wasn’t really an answer, but Caleb didn’t press her. She appreciated that at least as they continued in relative silence.

But soon it became too quiet. No more singing birds. Fewer buzzing insects.

A new odor replaced the scent of the pines and oaks. Something sooty.

“You smell that?” she asked Caleb.

“Fire, right?”

“Definitely.”

They headed up to an overlook. According to Kara’s map, it would give them a view of the former campgrounds and tiny town of Little Orleans. It only took a few minutes to reach. From the viewpoint, Kara surveyed patches of shorter trees and weeds had taken over many of the neglected campgrounds below. The Potomac River snaked through the valley.

“Hey, that’s Little Orleans, isn’t it?” Caleb asked, pointing toward a bend in the river.

An icy ball of dread settled in Kara’s gut. “It is.”

A fire burned between a handful of buildings. Dark smoke billowed in an oily column in front of what looked to be a small church.

“That don’t look like no kumbaya bonfire,” Caleb muttered.

Kara worried he was right.

-22-

Miguel stared out at the trees and farms below. He, Jenna, and Andris were squeezed into the passenger hold of the Hunters’ customized MH-65 Dolphin. Hooper had come with them. The steady thump of the helicopter’s engines and the whir of the rotors was slightly muffled by his headset. The Dolphin was one of two helicopters that fit onto the Hunters’ modified helipad and respective hangar. The group’s second chopper, an AgustaWestland AW109, was headed to Vermont. Jett was flying Dom, Rachel, Rory, and Meredith with Doctor Shelton.

“All right, folks, this is your captain speaking.” Frank Battaglia’s voice crooned over Miguel’s headset. “We’re on our final descent to Nowhere, Pennsylvania. The current weather forecast is predicting Skulls. Enough for everyone, so don’t be greedy. Expect a bumpy landing. Put your tray tables up, buckle your seat belts, and be sure to thank your handsome pilot on the way out.”

Hooper looked among Miguel, Jenna, and Andris for an explanation. Miguel just smirked at him and shrugged.

Frank wasn’t finished. “Thanks for choosing BA Airlines.”

“British Airways?” Hooper asked.

Miguel shook his head. “Everyone always asks that, but don’t—”

Frank cut in. “Badass Airlines. As I was saying, thanks for choosing Badass Airlines. We know you don’t have any options, and we couldn’t care less. We’re just glad you’re alive—and you better keep alive when you get down there.”

Hooper fumbled with his headset until he opened a private channel with Miguel. “Do you guys always deal with this?”

“Whenever Frank’s flying, yes,” Miguel said. “You get used to the cheese.”

Miguel studied the waving crops below. From here, the corn looked pretty normal to him. Maybe a little browner than expected. Actually, yeah, the more he looked, the more he realized there was definitely a yellow-brown hue to them. Weird.

They started dropping toward a clearing.

The overgrown grass waved under the rotor wash. Clouds of dust kicked up around them. The wheels of the Dolphin hit with a jolt.

“Everyone, stay on me,” Miguel said. “Jenna, you got point. Andris, babysit.”

“I’m not a—” Hooper started.

“As long as you do not have a gun, you may as well be a baby,” Andris said.

Jenna grinned as Miguel yanked open the door to the chopper. Hot air blasted in around them. Jenna dipped her helmet low as she rushed out, her suppressed M4 shouldered. She took a knee just outside the rotors’ reach. Miguel darted out after, mirroring her stance. He watched the chopper as Andris escorted Hooper off.

Frank cut the engine. The blades whirred slower as the engine whined down.

“Don’t miss your return flight,” Frank said. “Remember, no refunds for no-shows.”

They started toward the cornfield, a good fifty yards away, past the remnants of a half-burned barn and a wide ditch. Hooper kept a hand over his face, shielding his eyes from the blowing pieces of corn and dirt. A wide ditch surrounded the cornfield, filled with mud and weeds.

As the engine noise wore down, Miguel heard a strange sound. The closer they got to the corn, the louder it grew. A steady but hollow clinking. Almost like a wind chime made of bones.

His blood vessels about froze solid.

The sound was familiar.

“You hear that?” he whispered to Jenna.

“I do.”

“Anyone got eyes?” Miguel asked.

“Negative,” Jenna replied.

“Nothing yet,” Andris said.

Miguel gestured back to Andris. “Keep Hooper back for a second. We’ll clear the area first.”

“Copy that.”

Miguel continued toward the edge of the cornfield. He and Jenna passed around the scorched barn. They climbed down into the ditch and then made their way to the other side.

The corn was only a couple yards away now. Definitely much yellower than it should be at this point in the summer. But before Miguel got a good look at it, something else drew his attention.

And that something had two bloodshot eyes and curved teeth. Its nose was shrunken, wasted away. The monster’s jaw was overgrown, giving it a nasty underbite, fanged teeth jutting out. Black vessels pulsed under fetid gray flesh.

“Andris, get Hooper back to the chopper now!” Miguel shouted, sighting up the Skull. “Frank, engines hot! If we can’t take ‘em, you go!”

The Skull erupted out of the cornfield with its claws outstretched. Miguel planted two armor-piercing rounds into his chest. Its grotesque ribs exploded in a spray of bony shrapnel. A third shot hammered through the center of its face. The monster’s head flicked backward even as its body continued forward, carried by momentum. It tumbled at the edge of the cornfield, collapsing into a heap of bony limbs.

Miguel barely had time to take another step back when four more Skulls exploded from the cornfield. They shrieked and growled, their voices rising in an unholy chorus. Every pounding step kicked up dirt and decaying plant matter. From hornlike growths to sweeping shoulder blades, curved claws and protruding hip bones, the monstrous creatures were living, breathing killing machines. Only problem was, the off switch for these machines was the trigger of a gun.

Jenna fired off three precise shots. All three connected, the whoomph of the rifle blasting over the farmland. Her target tripped over its own dead body, somersaulting into the detritus at the edge of the field. Miguel sighted up the second Skull, ending the beast’s misery as Jenna went after the third.

But the beasts were fast. Too damn fast.

They didn’t even have a chance to adjust their aim when the third leapt into the air. Miguel tried to trail it with his rifle. But the beast was flying straight at Jenna. There was no way to take a shot without risking hitting her.

She ducked.

The beast tore right over her head. It hit the ground hard, skidding and screeching. Jenna whirled around, rifle aimed point-blank at the creature’s ugly maw. Her shot lanced through the creature’s open mouth and out the back of its head in a ghastly spray of brain matter.

The monster started to teeter backward, its eyes rolling up. Before Miguel could watch it fall, he heard more screeches from the cornfields. He swiveled on his heels, taking a few steps backward.

“Jenna!” he said. “Back up!”

More screams and howls. One. Two. Six. More. He lost count as the demonic voices blended together in a maelstrom of primal rage. Their disharmonic refrain rolled over him like a tidal wave. A sound all too familiar and yet always unsettling. No matter how many times he heard them, the beasts never failed to send a rush of adrenaline surging through him.

Worse, he couldn’t see them yet. He backed up through the ditch and toward the ruins of the scorched barn. The walls were mostly torn down, like splinters sticking up from the earth. Jenna came with him, posting up behind a smattering of charcoaled boards that came up to her abdomen. It wasn’t much cover, but it was better than being stuck in the ditch or sitting right next to the cornfield.

“Should we retreat to the chopper?” Jenna asked.

“No,” Miguel said. “Not unless absolutely necessary. We need to clear this field. We need these samples.”

Miguel couldn’t imagine coming away from this empty-handed. Without some idea of how this blight originated and what it was, they would be left without the clues they needed to figure out why hundreds of thousands of people were going to starve this winter.

He couldn’t let that tremendous a failure weigh on his conscience.

Then the first of the Skulls emerged from the cornfield. The beast whipped its head around, searching for prey. Its bloodshot eyes locked on Miguel, then Jenna. It rushed over its dead brethren, coiling as it reached the edge of the ditch. Right before it jumped, Miguel hammered it with a concerted burst. Bone fragments flew from the beast’s chest.

The monster disappeared into the ditch. Dead, hopefully.

But killing that creature was like popping the cork to the bottle of Skull champagne. More and more poured out of the field. They barreled toward the decrepit barn, screeching. Some rammed into each other, desperate to be the first ravenous beast to set their teeth into Jenna and Miguel.

“I’ve got your back!” Andris called.

Miguel opened fire. Jenna’s rifle bucked against her shoulder. And other shots boomed from behind Miguel, back from toward the chopper. Even amid the engine noise, the Skulls’ voices reached Miguel’s ears with the painful precision of a stabbing sword.

Twenty, thirty, maybe more Skulls ripped from the cornfields. Miguel hadn’t seen a horde like this since… God, he couldn’t remember how many years. But here they were. Screaming and growling and every bit as real as his worst nightmares on those fitful nights of sleep when scenes of old battles played out over and over again in every horrible, gory detail.

But in the worst of those nightmares, he didn’t have a weapon. He sure as hell did now.

He worked through his firing lane. Focused on one ugly monster. Aimed. Shot. Moved to the next. Skull after Skull fell. Jenna watched the firing lane to his left. Andris provided cover fire somewhere back and to his right. Their cross fire leveled the first ranks of the monsters. Bodies piled on top of each other until Miguel’s bolt clicked back.

“Changing!” he shouted. He ejected the empty magazine. In one fluid motion, he took another from his tac vest and jammed it home, then he pulled back on the charging handle.

Jenna was forced to reload shortly after.

The creatures continued coming, throwing themselves on the Hunters’ bullets. Each monster was making it farther, climbing over the others’ bleeding bodies, lunging.

Two Skulls disappeared into the ditch. Miguel couldn’t tell if they were dead. Didn’t have time to wait and watch either as he knocked out a few more Skulls. His next trigger squeeze resulted in a click. Empty again. Already.

The two Skulls that had disappeared into the ditch jumped out. They both flung themselves in Jenna’s direction, arms cartwheeling through the air. She sent a flurry of bullets through the first one’s chest. But momentum carried the monster straight at her. Its corpse slammed against her, and she fell backward, the monster on top.

A dead Skull couldn’t do much harm. But the living one that landed right beside her could. Miguel didn’t have time to reload again. Not if he wanted to stop the beast from goring Jenna. As Andris’s covering fire continued, Miguel yanked off one of the scorched broken boards from the half-destroyed barn wall. He rammed it right into the base of the Skull’s neck. Splintered wood stabbed through the exposed weak spots between the bone plates. Blood gushed from the wound.

It wasn’t enough to kill the monster. And the Skull let Miguel know, whipping around, claws lashing through the air, forcing Miguel to jump backward. The monster took a lunging step his way. This time he jammed the board right into the monster’s mouth. It clamped down, teeth chewing through the wood. Then Miguel let go of the board, craned his rifle up, and slammed the butt of it against the side of the creature’s head.

The Skull staggered backward. From Miguel’s periphery, more creatures charged through the ditch to join the fray. More beasts ready to sink their fangs into his neck. To turn him into a Skull if they had the chance.

He had just enough time to tear out his sidearm. The creature took one step. Then two. Its face was mere inches from Miguel when he squeezed the trigger. Shots tore apart the Skull’s bony face in a misty spray of tissue and bone.

With a kick, he knocked the beast over, trampling over it and running toward where Jenna was pushing the big Skull off her body. He shoved his boot into the side of the grisly corpse, helping her push it off. She shot back up to her feet. Just in time to cover him as he reloaded. Then his rifle came back to life, chattering away as he cut down the last Skulls trickling toward them.

For a few seconds, all was calm. A single Skull stumbled out of the cornfield. It dragged a foot twisted past the normal limits of human anatomy. A final boom rang out from behind Miguel. The Skull dropped.

“Bullseye,” Andris said over the comms.

“Hold positions,” Miguel said.

They waited for a grueling couple of minutes. Birds fluttered around the field. Crows descended, poking at the Skulls with their beaks, pulling at their flesh. Miguel couldn’t hear any more Skulls over the din of the chopper’s engine.

“Frank, go ahead and kill the engines again,” Miguel called. “I need to be able to hear.”

“Putting the chopper in chill-mode now.”

Miguel listened as the engines whined down yet again. To his relief, no Skulls were howling or screeching nearby or in the distance.

He waved the group back toward the corn. “Let’s get our samples and get the hell out of here before any more of these boneheads show up.”

“Last time I host a party in a cornfield,” Jenna said.

“You know that movie? Children of the Corn?” Miguel asked.

“Of course.”

“Yeah, this was way worse.”

“I’ll take the creepy children any day.”

Andris caught up to them with Hooper in tow. The lab tech looked horribly frightened. Pale as a fresh snowfall and fingers trembling like he was being electrocuted.

They made their way back to the cornfield, picking between the dead Skulls.

“Holy shit,” Jenna said. “Miguel, tell me I’m not making this up. Tell me this is real.”

A hot wind blew over them. The sound of bony wind chimes returned.

But this time, Miguel knew it wasn’t because of Skulls like he’d originally thought.

No. It was the damned plants.

-23-

Dom walked through the cornfield. The stalks reached a couple feet above his head. Every time the wind picked up, they clunked together, sounding like an unholy xylophone. Just like the wheat field and soybeans they’d scoured over the past couple hours, the cornfield was infected with a blight unlike anything he’d ever seen. Scratch that. The blight looked similar. Just not like anything he’d seen infecting plants. He was no botanist, but this blight looked nothing like what he expected.

The crops weren’t just dying. They were being transformed. White, coral-like growths and lesions spread over the withered stalks and leaves. Hard to the touch, they made the infected sections of the plants appear almost like bone.

“I still can’t believe this,” Meredith said.

She was stalking down a parallel row of corn.

“It is the strangest disease I’ve ever seen,” Shelton said. He used a scalpel to take another set of scrapings, depositing them into a small plastic tube.

Dom was glad the guy was so focused on his work. He always seemed far less hawkish when he went full scientist mode.

“What’s your take on it?” Dom asked.

“There seems to be a parasite taking the plants over and creating these growths,” Shelton explained.

“You don’t know any diseases at all that are like this?” Dom asked. “Because to me, it looks like these plants are trying to turn into Skulls.”

“Sure. There are some,” Shelton said. “Fungal infections can sometimes thicken and harden around a plant stalk. You can turn a relatively soft plant into something nearly as hard as wood.” He chipped off another sample from a leaf. “Bacterial diseases can do this too. Citrus variegated chlorosis, for example.”

“What’s that do?” Meredith asked.

“It causes xylem tissues to calcify. Ends up causing bone-like deposits inside the vascular system, blocking water transport. Usually, you don’t see it as much on the outside of the plant like this.” Shelton held up a finger. “I’ve heard of a couple viral infections that do this. Papaya ringspot virus, for example. You get these enations. It looks like warty growths on leaves and fruits. A bunch of calcium spots and accumulation.”

“You’re saying there are some diseases that might cause these symptoms. Natural diseases,” Meredith said.

“I am.” His voice sounded heated again. “Most of the diseases are incurable.”

“Not great,” Dom said.

“Not great at all. But a disease like this is a great way to make people hungry and desperate. Which means the government’s going to start coming in playing hero and getting everyone to worship the White House again.”

Dom ignored that last statement. He didn’t blame the guy’s paranoia. Not one bit. But it wasn’t helpful right now, especially since he was working on behalf of the US government right now.

He took a glance around the corn. All of it was decaying. Dying. Turning into this rocky substance, inches at a time. The corncobs had all but shriveled and fallen off. Many of the diseased cobs lay in the muck at his feet, covered in white mold. All this food gone to waste.

“Rachel, Rory, how we looking?” Dom asked the two younger Hunters.

They were keeping watch, several yards back from Meredith, Shelton, and Dom. He caught occasional glimpses of them through the stalks.

“Still clear,” Rachel said.

“No hostiles,” Rory added. “Haven’t so much as heard anything suspicious or even seen a track in the mud.”

“Copy that,” Dom said. “Doc, how’s the sample collecting going? We good yet?”

“We’ve gotten enough to start, I think,” Shelton said. “But with the amount of work you want from us, it’s not going to be enough.”

“I don’t want to come back if we don’t have to,” Dom said. “We got a long car ride between the fields and then back to the chopper.”

Shelton looked into the pack of samples he’d been collecting and huffed. “You can never have too many samples.”

“But you can spend too long collecting them,” Meredith said between stalks of corn. “We don’t want to be out here at night if we can help it.”

“You really think it’s that dangerous?” Shelton asked.

“Everything’s more dangerous at night. And scientifically speaking, this place gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

Shelton used a pair of forceps to peel off another yellow-brown growth from one of the cornstalks. It ripped away with a tearing sound, and he deposited it into another plastic tube. “I think we have enough that I can manage, assuming the other team is successful.”

“All right,” Dom said. “Back to the SUV.”

They started the long walk through the cornfield. Every breeze coursing through the field set the fields rattling. He couldn’t help the slight shiver sneaking down his spine at the horrifyingly familiar sound. It reminded him of hordes of Skulls stumbling alongside each other, a pack of rambling monstrosities in search of prey.

When he heard the first howl drifting over the field, he at first assumed it was just a strange memory surfacing in the mess of gray matter between his ears. Shelton’s terrified face proved the howl wasn’t just a vestige of Dom’s memory.

“What was that?” Shelton asked, voice shaking. Beads of sweat trickled between the canyons of wrinkles in his forehead.

“Rachel, Rory, eyes open,” Dom said as calmly as possible. “Mere, watch our VIP. I got rear guard.”

Rachel and Rory spread out through the cornfield, maintaining visual contact. The duo prowled with their rifles at their shoulders. Shelton trembled as he followed Meredith. Dom kept his head on a swivel, watching their rear flank. His heartbeat accelerated, pulse thudding as another howl cut into the early evening air between the drone of midge flies and other haplessly unaware insects.

Dom heard the rustle of corn and the clatter of the blight growths hitting together with each gust of wind. More distant Skull voices called out, traveling like haunting spirits from the tree-covered hills at the edge of the field. They seemed to be coming from nearly every direction.

How?

There was no way the Skulls were smart enough to perform a maneuver like this. Circle their prey and set up an ambush? No, the creatures weren’t that smart, right?

But then he recalled a time during the Tide, back when he was infiltrating Skull-infested Quantico. The Hunters had seen a couple of Skulls hunting seagulls on the dock. The creatures shouldn’t have had a chance in hell going after the gulls. Usually, their method of attack was shrieking a banshee cry and running headlong at their target. Those particular Skulls at Quantico had somehow learned to sneak up on gulls, acting disinterested, before pouncing and snatching up their prey into their mouths.

To set up an attack like this, though? It would have taken even more foresight and coordination than the reactionary survival instincts he’d watched them hone over the years.

Thing was, even as those thoughts swarmed through his mind, as much as he wanted to talk with some of the science team on the ship about this, it really didn’t matter. What did matter, if he wanted to know any of those answers, was surviving the next few minutes.

The whole cornfield was set on an incline. As they headed back toward the farmhouse and barn where they’d parked their requisitioned SUV, Dom got a better view of the field. The tops of the stalks swayed in the gentle breeze, continuing their rattling song. Until the breeze settled.

Even though the air was still, a few patches of stalks still waved. The sounds of the clattering blight growths became louder. And to Dom’s abject horror, lines of corn swayed, growing closer. Almost like sharks swimming under the ocean’s surface.

He counted at least six shaking trails of corn headed their way.

“Contacts coming from our three-to-nine! Run!” Dom bellowed. “Go, go, go!”

He did his best to keep an eye on the field as they rushed toward the edge. But they had at least another couple hundred yards to go. Maybe more. Hard to tell once they were running back through the corn, taller than his head, the slope leveling out so he could no longer see over the field.

The rattling grew louder from everywhere behind him. He twisted right and left, his weapon ready to spray bullets through the vegetation, ready to end the first of those abominable monsters seeking him and his team out like living homing missiles.

A flash of yellow-white appeared between the stalks to his left. He let off a three-round burst. An agonized yelp followed, and the shape disappeared. He couldn’t tell if it was dead or not. Didn’t have time to figure it out. Two more shapes flickered between corn stalks to his right. He fired off another burst. Bullets tore through leaves and stalks. Hardened plants buckled and exploded. Chunks of the blight growth erupted like macabre fireworks. This time, he saw one of the Skulls tumble headfirst into the dirt, face plowing into the roots of the corn. The other beast leapt over its dead brethren.

Parts of its armor had been chiseled by the bullets, but Dom hadn’t hit anything vital. The creature came rocketing toward him, claws extended, maw open in a vicious expression of raw hunger.

Dom leveled his rifle up toward the creature’s head and squeezed the trigger. Rounds speared through the beast’s face, crashing through its nasal and orbital cavity. The monster’s shriek died in a bubbling mess of gore as it stumbled then fell.

More of the beasts rattled through the corn. The vegetation made it horribly difficult to maintain solid visuals. Dom waited with professional patience until he could see his targets.

“Meredith, going to need fire support!” he shouted over the growls and calls of the Skulls filling the cornfield.

Her rifle chattered in concert with his. They tore apart the closest of the beasts trampling through the corn. A wake of dead creatures was left behind them, ample fertilizer for the blight-soaked plants. Dom lost count of how many creatures he’d hammered with rounds. All he could do was aim, fire, aim again, fire again.

Then a yell came from in front of him. Shelton was suddenly down, face-first in the mud.

Dom covered him as Meredith knelt beside the guy.

A Skull charged in from their right. Dom put it down. Meredith tugged Shelton back to his feet. Mud and leafy gunk fell from Shelton’s face.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I tripped! I just tripped! I’m okay!”

Meredith shoved the guy none too gently, getting him to run again. “Don’t do it again!”

Shelton ran as fast as his body could carry him. The poor scientist obviously didn’t spend the time training that Dom and his operators did.

The Skulls continued to dog Meredith, Dom, and Shelton. He and Meredith couldn’t goad Shelton to go any faster. The guy was panting, face bright red, sweat soaking through every inch of clothing across his slightly round belly.

Dom did his best to keep the Skulls back, firing again and again until his bolt locked back. “Changing!”

In seconds, he had a new magazine in. He was in the zone now. They could do this. They could hold the monsters back, buying Shelton the time he needed to make it out of the cornfield. If they could just get him to that SUV, they’d be golden. Could stuff him in the back and drive the hell out of there to a clear area where Jett could pick them up. He just had to fight for their lives one foot at a time. One bullet at a time.

They’d been in worse situations. No problem.

He kept reassuring himself this was a situation they could handle, even as the Skulls dove nearer. Some reached so close to him and Meredith that he could feel the air rushing from their swiping claws. The beast’s fetid odor poured in around them. The stench of rot burgeoned with every dead Skull. Not because they were killing more Skulls but because more Skulls were after them.

The cries grew so loud, they threatened to drown out the muffled whoomph of the suppressed rifles.

But they could do it. They had to do it.

He sighted up another Skull. Sent it stumbling forward. Then another. Three shots square in the chest. Bone chips flying. Flesh torn. Blood flecking. The monster collapsed. Meredith drilled through a couple of other beasts with curling horns and shoulder blades so overgrown they practically scythed through the corn.

For every Skull they killed, two more came running through the crops, desperate to succeed where their brethren had failed.

“Almost there!” Rachel called. “Maybe fifty yards to—!”

She suddenly stopped. Dom thought he could still hear her and Rory’s belabored breaths over the comms.

“Rachel, sitrep!” he yelled.

“Contacts front!” she replied.

Then the bark of her and Rory’s gunfire blasted through the rows of corn.

They were surrounded. In the middle of a field. With their VIP defenseless, out of breath. And no idea where their enemy was coming from.

Scratch that. Dom knew. The enemy was coming from everywhere.

They couldn’t just circle up and fight, hoping they survived however many waves of monsters crashed down on them.

He had to change the paradigm. Shift the battle. If the Skulls could alter their tactics, so could he.

“Meredith, on the front with Rachel and Rory. Northwest. Wedge formation, drive us out of the fields,” Dom said.

Meredith rushed up to join the other two operators, leading the spear point. He snatched up Shelton’s collar. Dom let his rifle fall on its harness and scooped out his pistol. As he dragged Shelton, forcing the guy to run far quicker than the scientist probably knew he was capable of, Dom fired sporadically at the monsters threatening to get too close.

By his count, there were a good fifteen, maybe twenty, swarming through the fields directly behind them. Not enough bullets in his pistol’s magazine to waste on all of them.

One of the beasts sprinted ahead of its diabolical comrades. Its taloned feet mashed the flattened plant matter. All the muscles under its tawny plates coiled as it prepared to jump. Then it released its animalistic power, gray flesh rippling, claws extended like the tip of a javelin. Dom blasted two shots through its head before it could hit him or Shelton. Then he tugged the scientist out of the way.

The monster landed in the mud, skidding ahead, body tremoring with the last nerve impulses traveling to its throbbing muscles. Another monster ran up on Shelton and Dom. Its foot pressed what was left of the dead Skull deeper into the mud. It snarled, spittle flying between its curved fangs, some of its teeth broken, one eye missing. Half its face torn up. Probably an old injury from when it was a human. A mother or father or son or daughter, friend or neighbor.

Now nothing but a predator.

Dom fired. A bullet cut through the creature’s jaw. Teeth blew apart in the blast. Bone flew in splinters. Shredded vessels and butchered muscle hung from the devastating wound. The creature just kept running, ignorant of what should have been a game-ending injury.

Its tongue lashed about the empty space where part of its mouth had been. Dom tried to fire again. But as the grueling horror of the bloodcurdling monster closed in, he realized his slide was locked back. The gun was empty.

Maybe the creature had the same realization. Or maybe it was just a horrible coincidence. Because the Skull with half its face missing pounced at Dom. Its claws reached his tac vest, driving through fabric, clattering against the ceramic within his plate carrier. It battered his chest with its demolished face, trying to take a bite out of him, not realizing it was physically incapable of such violence now.

Dom slammed the handle of his pistol against the back of the Skull’s head. Once. Twice. Three times. The creature’s grip loosened. Dom’s muscles strained as he put all the power in his adrenaline-addled muscles into tearing the creature from his vest.

“Keep running, Shelton!”

Then a tearing sounded. Not from Dom’s vest. But from a couple of the claws ripping from the muscles, ligaments, tendons, and whatever else was holding them into the creature’s mutated hand.

Dom broke free right as two more beasts ran at him.

He shoved the first monster backward into the other two. They tripped over each other in a tangle of bony limbs and snapping mouths, growling and biting in frustration. It gave Dom just enough time to wheel his rifle up with one hand and fire. Not his best shots. But good enough to send the three wheeling backward.

“Made it!” Rachel called out.

Soon enough, Dom was pushing Shelton out of the cornfield and across the overgrown grass. Skulls continued to streak through the cornfield after them. To the north, where the wheat fields were, more monsters cut in their direction. Dozens of them.

Dom hadn’t seen so many of the creatures in one place in years.

“Get to the SUV!” he bellowed.

Rachel and Rory continued striking down the beasts in their paths. Their frantic fire blasted through the hungry monsters as they plowed toward the SUV.

Then they posted up on either side of the vehicle, keeping it clear as Meredith reached the driver’s side door. Dom cranked open the rear passenger door, pushing Shelton through it.

“Shit!” Rory said from the opposite side of the vehicle. “Tires are flat on this side!”

Dom glanced down. His stomach sank. Both tires were flat on his side too. Skulls were trickling in from every side. They had to leave this place ten minutes ago.

“We’re going to have to drive on flats,” Dom said. He fired at another couple of Skulls rushing out of the cornfield.

Meredith was in the driver’s seat. He saw her twist the key, trying to start the SUV. Nothing happened. No starter turning over. No engine rumbling to life.

“Somebody’s screwing with us!” Rachel said. “They sabotaged the SUV!”

Everything became horribly clear. The Skulls probably hadn’t just attacked unprovoked either. It was unlikely they’d simply charged in on their own. Someone had coordinated this.

This was a trap.

-24-

Kara and Caleb snuck closer to Little Orleans’ borders. Oily smoke hung heavy in the air. The sickly-sweet odor sparked a distant memory in Kara. When they reached the edge of the settlement in Little Orleans and peered out between the trees, Kara saw why.

A pile of rubber tires burned around three wooden posts.

“What are they…” Caleb never finished his question. He started to gag, almost retching.

A wave of nausea swept through Kara too. She choked down the bile threatening to swell up her throat.

On each of the posts, a body burned nearly beyond recognition. Charred skin sloughed off.

“Do you think… That can’t be… Rosie? You think…?” Caleb’s words became an incoherent mess.

Kara didn’t know if he was right. She definitely didn’t blame him for having such discouraging thoughts.

The pile of burning tires was situated right in front of a white church with broken windows. The side of the church had been spray-painted with a solid black sword slashing across it.

“Children of Kusanagi,” Kara said. “Just like Devon warned. I never believed they did shit like this.”

Evidence to the contrary was right in front of her. Three people burned. Unless those three were murderous pedophiles or something, she couldn’t imagine why the Children thought a death like this was appropriate punishment for whatever perceived crimes they had committed.

“If they have Rosie…” Caleb’s confusion and disbelief had quickly morphed to rage.

“Let me know if you see her,” Kara said.

Crouched behind a bush, she raised her rifle to her shoulder and scoped out the settlement, trying to make sense of what she saw. A sprawl of tents made from a variety of colorful fabrics rose from the unmaintained parking lot and lawn around the church. People milled about between the tents, paying no mind to the three charred bodies. Almost as if those bodies were nothing but an old statue in the middle of the town square.

Across the muddy road from the church was what looked to be a dive bar. A cracked plastic sign above its swinging doors announced it was “Ted’s Place.” It was hard to tell if Ted still ran the place today or if the new Children of Kusanagi ownership had made the establishment their own. Just past Ted’s Place, in another asphalt parking lot filled with cracks hosting tall weeds, Kara spotted a group of people seated in a circle. Some of them played on drums made of animal hide. Their chanting voices drifted all the way to Kara, though she couldn’t make out the words.

Three people sat in the center of the circle. All tied together around a pole. They looked frightened, their faces bruised and battered.

“Caleb, you recognize them?” Kara asked. “The people tied up in the parking lot?”

Caleb was staring through his scope. He adjusted his aim toward where Kara had indicated. Then he lowered his rifle, chest heaving, eyes wide.

“That’s her. Rosie.”

“You sure?” Kara asked. “She doesn’t look anything like the picture Tressler gave me.”

“‘Course not. She’s beat to a mess. But I know her. That’s her, Kara. That’s her. You got to believe me. What are we going to do?”

“You see any weapons?”

The two of them surveyed the settlement again.

“I don’t,” Caleb said. “Except for some knives and machetes on some of the people in that damn drum circle.”

“Same. But that doesn’t mean they don’t have any. I’m guessing they’ve got guns somewhere. Maybe in the church or that bar. Maybe in their tents, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I don’t think it’d be smart to just wander on down there and ask for Rosie.”

“No way. If they kidnapped her, if they beat her like that, you can be sure they aren’t going to treat us any kinder when we ask if we can take her back to Cumberland.” She scoped the three prisoners again but couldn’t get a good look at the faces of the other two. They mostly had their backs to her. If she had to guess, they were the ones Tressler had sent her to find—Hudson and Maureen. “We got to figure something out.”

“We need help,” Caleb said. “We can’t just storm in there by ourselves.”

“No, definitely not. Even if they don’t have any guns—which I’m betting they do—there are—what? Maybe seventy of these people?”

“Those are the ones we can see.”

“Exactly. Without knowing how many are in those buildings or what they’ve got, we’d be going into Little Orleans blind. I don’t want to end up like a witch in Salem.”

The drum circle’s music was growing louder and more frantic. Rosie was twisting and screaming. Seemed to Kara like Rosie was pleading with the Children.

“We have to get help,” Caleb said, voice hitching in panic. “Maybe we can make it back to Cumberland.”

“We don’t have time,” Kara said, her mind racing. “I can call them. See if they can send anyone out, and—”

A sudden realization poured over her like an icy rain.

“No, no, of course.” She put a hand against her forehead and lowered herself back behind the bush. “I saw a Children of Kusanagi protestor outside of Cumberland. There’s always someone out there, right?”

“You bet your ass,” Caleb said. “Every town I’ve been to nearby, there’s always at least one of those cultists protesting or screeching at everyone. Sometimes more. Always talking about the end-times and people getting what they deserve. How they’re the enlightened ones, and we’re all sheep leading ourselves to slaughter.”

“But they’re always there.”

“Always.”

“Why do you think they’re there, Caleb?”

“Trying to recruit people for one. Trying to convert us. Maybe they believe they’re doing something good and think that—”

“No, no, no,” she said. “What if it’s more than that? What if they use their chain of recruiters and protestors as informants too?”

Caleb’s jaw dropped. “You’re right. You’re right. Holy hell in a handbasket. If we call the Cumberland folk for help, the Children will know two hours before anyone can even get here to do anything.”

“They’ll clean this whole scene up, they’ll look innocent, or they’ll ambush whoever’s coming out here to help.” Kara paused. “Plus, how many people in Cumberland do you think would actually drop whatever they’re doing and assist us?”

“There are a few police officers. A handful of guys like Wilson that help keep the place secure. They seem like good folks.”

Caleb gazed back over the settlement then turned back to Kara. She could practically read his mind through that single look. Especially because she was now thinking the same thing he’d just realized.

“They won’t be enough,” she said. “Unless we set up some kind of trap. But it’d be impossible to ambush them if they know Cumberland is sending people our way.”

“They could find an alternate route, maybe,” Caleb said.

“It’s still a risk.”

“What about the military?”

Kara raised a brow. “You got an army colonel on speed dial?”

Caleb looked glum. “I don’t even have a phone.”

“Even if I could reach someone in Cumberland, even if I could have them get someone else to help us, I’m not sure it would be good enough.” She peered over the bushes. The drum playing was growing louder. Heavier. It was crescendoing into something, and Kara feared what that something might be. “I just don’t know if we have time. These Children have already burned up three people. Maybe that’s what they got planned for Rosie and the others.”

“Then we go down right now.” Caleb started to stand.

Kara grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back into the grass next to her. “Not without a plan and not without backup.”

“Where you going to get backup?”

Kara had been toying with an idea. Only one other group she knew was armed, that might be willing to help her. No guarantee of course. She told Caleb.

“Pigs will fly before I agree to that,” he replied.

“Then I’m going to find us a flying pig, unless you got a better idea.”

He said nothing for a few seconds. “Shoot. Fine. We ain’t got another choice, do we?”

“We could turn around. Run away. Leave Rosie and the others to their fate.”

A fire burned behind Caleb’s eyes. “Nah, that ain’t no choice at all. Like I said, we got to do this.”

“In that case, I’m making a call. No guarantee we’ll get the help we need. But even if we don’t, I promise you, we’re going to try something. But I can’t do it without your help. Got it?”

“I’m in.”

Kara took her sat phone out of her pack. Then she dialed the number she’d been given only hours ago.

“Devon here,” a rasping voice said.

“It’s Kara.”

“Long time no see.”

“We got a favor to ask.”

“Those folks at Little Orleans not what you expected?”

“You could say that.”

-25-

Skulls came from every direction. Through the fields. The trees. Their voices carried into the sky even as the sun began its final approach over the forest to the west. Almost as if the sun itself was afraid of what the incoming Skull horde meant.

The odds of surviving their mission in Vermont didn’t look great, but Dom had been through worse.

The SUV was done. They needed an alternate escape.

“Get to the barn!” Dom said. “We need shooting positions! Defenses.”

They ran toward the decrepit two-story barn next to the farmhouse. It offered two easily controlled entry points on the north and south side. The bottlenecks would help slow the hordes. From when they’d come through here earlier, clearing the structure, the first and second level of the barn had all kinds of rusted tools, from shovels to axes and even a big rusting tractor. All weapons that could be used if they ran out of ammunition. Most helpful was a second floor accessible only by a ladder. That gave them options.

Options that didn’t exist standing out here in the open.

They had to clear a path through a few Skulls to get to the front door of the barn. As soon as they cleared the entrance, Rachel and Rory slammed the flimsy wooden doors shut. Dom put a big two-by-four wooden barricade bar into place, locking the doors. Skulls hammered against it, their voices permeating the cracks between the planks.

Meredith was already working on locking the rear door as Dom placed a call over his comm unit.

“Jett here,” their chopper pilot replied.

“We’re going to need an immediate evac. Farm, index case target Charlie-Two-Two.”

“Copy that, Charlie-Two-Two.” The sound of the chopper’s engines warming up echoed through the comms. “I’ll be there in ten. No clearing to land, though.”

“Yeah, and it’s going to be worse.” Dom glanced at the front doors of the barn. Dust fell in columns from the rafters as the Skulls’ constant pounding caused the doors to buck and shift. “We got hostiles everywhere. Holed up in the barn. We’ll plan on a rope ladder evac from the roof.”

That was not the type of exfil Dom wanted, especially with a civilian in tow. Not exactly safe nor easy, especially under the duress of a hostile assault.

“What do we do?” Shelton asked. “How do we get out of this?”

He had his arms wrapped around his chest like he was trying to comfort himself and kept glancing between the Hunters and the doors. The Skulls’ growling grew louder and louder.

Rachel and Rory were each positioned by the front set of doors. Both were stoic, solid as statues. Rachel had her hair tied up under her helmet, her jaw set in grim determination. Rory was all muscle, a wrecking ball of a guy. He’d once been a novice midshipman, a skinny student when he’d joined the Hunters. Now, he looked as formidable as the Skulls themselves, staring down his sights, just waiting for the doors to bust open.

“Rachel, I want you on the second floor,” Dom said. “Shelton, go up there with her.”

Rachel nodded, snapping immediately into action, heading up the ladders. The second floor was really just a loft taking up half the barn, beams and joists supporting a thin deck covered in hay.

Dom looked through the tools situated against the wall near the tractor. His mind was already in overdrive, thinking of the next steps. Because those barn doors wouldn’t hold for the next five minutes, much less ten. He snatched up a coiled rope, hanging it over his shoulder. Then found a pair of long shears.

“Hey, Rory, take these,” he said.

Rory backed up, keeping his gun trained on the door the whole while.

“Thin the Skulls out through the cracks in the door. Conserve ammo.”

“You got it.”

Rory went to work, stabbing the long sheers through the crack. Skulls screeched, blood coming away from the shears every time Rory yanked them back again.

Meredith picked up an ax. Dom found a sickle and a hoe. All seemed good enough for cleaving apart a few Skulls if necessary.

More Skull voices screeched at the rear door. It rattled, hinges protesting.

Rachel pushed open the hayloft door. “I can thin ‘em out from up here!”

“Go for it!” Dom said.

Her gunshots rang out with a series of shuddering booms. Dom imagined another Skull going down with each blast but knew it just wasn’t going to be enough. Through the cracks in the barn walls, the spaces between the individual doors, silhouettes of the beasts piled up, desperate to get in.

“I got some climbers!” Rachel said.

Dom’s stomach twisted. With the Skulls’ claws and talons, scaling a structure like the barn would be as easy for them as walking up stairs was to him.

The barn wasn’t going to be good enough.

One of the planks from the back door suddenly exploded open. A Skull pushed its bony head through, along with one reaching arm. Meredith swung the ax at the creature’s head. Its scalp cracked open from the blow. Blood seeped from the wound as it struggled, not yet relenting. Another powerful blow cleaved through the fissure in its bone. The Skull went limp, its body stuck between the busted boards. More of the beasts reached through, trying to force themselves past their dead brethren.

Meredith went wild with the ax. The blade cleaved through bone and flesh in brutal strikes.

Dom was tempted to help, but she had it under control. He had to keep thinking ahead. Keep thinking about their next move.

Another board blasted apart from a wall. A Skull pushed its face through. A guttural cry escaped its twisted mouth. Dom swung his rifle up and took a single precise shot. Blood spattered from the middle of the creature’s face. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth.

“Jett, where you at?” Dom asked over the comms.

“Seven minutes.”

Not close enough.

New ideas. New ideas. It was Dom’s mantra. This was the fastest game of chess he’d ever played.

He moved to the tractor. Pulled open the fuel cap. The smell of diesel wafted out. Good. He surveyed the barn again, his eyes scouring the hay and dried wood. Old rags and a fuel can sat in the corner among a bevy of other tools. Perfect.

Another four boards blasted open in a shower of splinters. One of the rear doors tore from its top hinge, leaning precariously under the weight of three Skulls trying to squeeze past each other into the widening gap.

“Meredith, Rory, up the ladder now!” Dom bellowed.

They both ran. One of the front doors buckled inward. Two Skulls stuck their torsos through the gap. The barricade bar was barely holding that broken door in place.

Dom snatched up the red fuel canister and uncapped it. The smell of gasoline flowed out. Gasoline and diesel. The perfect ingredients for a Skull barbecue. He jammed the handle of an old pitchfork into the diesel inlet of the tractor, holding the mechanism open so the fumes poured out, making the place stink of diesel. Then he poured gasoline over the hay and wood floor, drizzling it around the tractor.

A sudden burst of cracking wood announced the rupture of the rear doors. Both went flat on the ground. Skulls flooded in.

Dom stuck the hoe and the sickle he’d found earlier under his pack and against his spine, securing them in place. Then he sprinted for the ladder, scaling it with one hand, using his other to hold the half-empty gas canister and the coil of rope. A Skull climbed after him. Rory leveled his rifle right past Dom and fired. The Skull roared as it crashed back to the ground. More of the beasts tried scuttling up the ladder as Dom made it to the loft. He deposited the rope and gasoline canister just as the front door burst open completely. Another sea of Skulls tore into the barn, surrounding the tractor. Some climbed over it, attempting to leap from it onto the loft.

Dom sent a wave of lead into the three monsters on the ladder. All went tumbling back to the barn floor.

“Hoist up the ladder,” Dom said.

He and Rory dragged it up on the loft as Meredith fired into the Skulls, destroying the monsters desperately trying to jump up at them.

“Now what?” Rory asked.

Dom nodded at Meredith’s ax. “Make a new hole in the roof facing the farmhouse.”

Meredith set to work immediately. Each ax blow tore away the half-rotten wood in the roof. Sunlight started to pour through.

While Meredith cut that hole into the roof, Dom fired at the beasts filling the bottom of the barn. They churned and screeched, some throwing their bodies at the loft. Others tried to climb the wall to get at them. Dom went through a full magazine just trying to keep the most persistent Skulls back. When they got too close, he used the sickle to slice into their limbs, knocking them away. Rachel hammered their faces with the hoe, busting their faces with the metal tool.

Dom wanted to preserve as much ammo as possible. He patted his tac vest. Just a couple more mags left. Not even enough bullets for every one of these monsters.

Good thing he didn’t plan on just using bullets.

“That good enough?” Meredith yelled over the cacophony of the battle.

Dom looked to the hole that she had cut through the roof. It would work.

“Help me with the ladder again, Rory,” Dom said.

Rory looked at Dom then at the ladder laid across the loft floor. Dom’s plan seemed to click instantly in the former midshipman’s mind, and they hoisted the ladder through the hole, guiding it toward the neighboring farmhouse. The ladder was just long enough to reach the second-floor roof of the abandoned home.

“Rachel!” Dom yelled. “You first. Shelton, with her. Then Meredith, Rory, and me.”

Rachel immediately left her post, discarding her bloodied tool, and Dom abandoned his sickle, taking over for her. Out the hayloft door, he counted a good thirty Skulls piling up around the front of the barn. More rushed from across the neighboring fields and out of the forests.

They had to be attracting every Skull left in Vermont now. They really needed to even the odds.

“No, I can’t!” Shelton cried.

Dom turned to see Shelton hesitating by the hole in the roof leading to the ladder.

“I’ll fall!” the scientist shouted.

“You have to go!” Meredith yelled, stowing the ax in her tactical belt.

“I’ll fall! I’ll die!”

“You’ll die in here!”

She pushed him toward the impromptu bridge. A sheen of sweat dripped down his forehead as he finally climbed out, his limbs shaking. He started across the ladder on all fours. Dom rubbed at the tension tightening his chest, wondering if the guy would make it across. Hoping and praying that he did. Then realizing the guy had all their scientific samples.

Shit. He’d planned for everything in the moment, best he could. But if Shelton fell into the horde below…

“Meredith, do not let Shelton lose the samples,” Dom called over a private channel to her. “No matter what.”

“Understood, Dom.”

He picked off a few Skulls scaling the exterior of the barn up toward him. Wouldn’t be long before the beasts noticed the others on the ladder.

“We made it,” Meredith reported over the comms.

Dom swiveled on his heels. Rory was sending round after round into the horde below. It hardly made a difference, even though Dom knew the guy was a good shot.

“You’ve got to go!” Dom shouted.

Rory stopped firing and turned. He gave Dom a single nod then started across the ladder bridge after him. Dom let his rifle drop on his sling. He poured most of what was left in the gas canister on the rope he’d dragged up with him.

Originally, he’d planned to use this rope as another escape if they lost the ladder. Now… he had different ideas.

When the rope was soaked, he opened the gas canister and flung what was left of it across the horde. The beasts didn’t care. They kept piling on each other, climbing up toward the loft. No more time. A couple of Skulls reached their claws around the edge of the loft floor.

Dom tossed out a length of the rope so it dangled on the floor. It disappeared under the feet of some of the Skulls. Others bit at the rope, unsure if it was prey. Just as quickly, they released it. The rope was of no more interest to them than the hay or the tractor or anything else that didn’t have hot blood flowing through it.

With the rest of the rope still wrapped around Dom’s shoulder, he started across the ladder, uncoiling the rope as he went.

“Hurry!” Meredith shouted.

The other four were pressed flat on the roof of the house.

The ladder shook.

Rachel raised her rifle. A shot seared so close to Dom he could practically feel it. He did feel something drop from the ladder, followed by a loud screech. He kept moving, focused on the other side.

Another heavy tremor through the ladder. It moved. He was just a couple feet away from the farmhouse. The ladder shifted behind him, threatening to slip off the roof.

Rachel continued to fire. More screams. More shrieks. Rory joined in the concerted volleys.

Dom was just a foot away. The ladder teetered beneath him. Gravity tugged on him. He reached out with one hand. Meredith lunged to grab his wrist. The ladder disappeared from under him, and his body swung toward the ground. His fingers caught the edge of the roof, but he barely had a grip. Rory and Rachel stopped firing, both of them throwing themselves flat beside Meredith, using their weight to keep hold of him.

“Take the rope,” Dom said, trying to hand the gas-soaked rope up toward them. “Take it!”

Shelton snapped out of his shock, took the rope. With the rest of the team’s help, he pulled himself up on the roof, keeping his belly flat on the shingles beside them.

“Stay down,” Dom said, “and crawl back. Don’t let the beasts see you. Shelton, I want that rope back.”

As the others retreated, army crawling away from the edge of the roof, Dom stayed where he was. The beasts continued to pile into the barn, drawn by the unfettered chaos. Only a few were trying to climb up the house now.

Good. Now was the perfect time.

Dom reached into one of his tac vest’s pockets and pulled out a lighter. He held the rope between two of his gloved fingers then lit it. Flames scorched his fingers as he let go of the rope. The pain was nothing compared to the satisfaction of watching the orange and red fire speed over the rope and disappear inside the barn.

Then a wild burst of flames erupted from every opening of the barn. Black smoke rolled out as Skulls screeched, a few of them catching fire from the spilled gasoline, running confused from the inferno. The conflagration ripped into the ceiling, tearing into the rotted wood, crackling.

Another heavy boom exploded from inside the barn. Chunks of flaming wood erupted into the air. Embers and ash were flung in every direction as a miniature mushroom cloud of black smoke rolled up from the center of the barn, right where the tractor was. Pieces of Skulls rained down in a grotesque torrent of tissue and blood. What was left of the barn simply fell away, revealing the scorched and twisted corpses of dead monsters who moments ago had been eager to tear them apart.

Dom pushed himself up to his knees, his breathing heavy. They still had to take care of a few Skulls trying to climb up the house. “Everyone all right?”

Rachel nodded. Rory gave him a thumbs-up.

“Good,” Meredith said.

“I… I…” Shelton pushed himself up to his knees then stood. He looked absolutely shell-shocked. The poor scientist had probably never seen so much gruesome violence in his life. And to prove it, he stumbled toward the edge of the roof, releasing the contents of his stomach onto the blood-and-ash-soaked grass.

He started to turn back toward Dom.

A sudden gunshot broke over the crackle of flames chewing through the barn. Dom watched, as if in slow motion, as Shelton’s hand clutched his shoulder. The scientist teetered backward, his head thunking on the roof.

“Sniper!” Rory yelled.

-26-

“Instead of going to scenic Ohio, we’ll be making a slight detour,” Frank said over the chopper’s headsets. “We’re on a nonstop straight toward Vermont. Remaining flight time is thirty minutes.”

Miguel was glad they hadn’t already begun heading to their second destination before they received Dom’s message.

He looked at Jenna and Andris, Hooper smooshed between them in his jump seat. The tech kept biting his bottom lip, his right knee bouncing. His nerves were already frayed, and they were headed right into an active gun battle.

From what Dom had told Miguel, Jett wouldn’t be able to extract them—there was no clear LZ to land the chopper. The fighting was way too intense. The last thing they could afford right now was losing a chopper in the middle of an op.

Okay, correction. Maybe the last thing was losing another Hunter to their so-far unseen enemy. Even if Jett tried to rescue Dom’s team from the farmhouse, even if her chopper survived the incoming fire, she’d be forced to lower a rope ladder to pick up the team. A sniper could easily pick the Hunters off as they climbed up.

Miguel’s team would land behind the enemy’s position, flush them out, and then hopefully clear the battlefield to open the way for Jett.

Andris was going over his sniper rifle for the second time today, making sure everything was clean, examining the sights like he hadn’t done it five times already. The former French Foreign Legionnaire loved his FR F2 sniper rifle, probably more than any woman who had ever come in or out of the Latvian’s life over the years.

He looked up as Miguel watched him. “You know you can never be too prepared.”

“Ah, you picked that up from the chief, huh?”

“Sometimes I am willing to learn something new. But no, the French Foreign Legion instilled that lesson in all of us poor people who joined their ranks from across the world. Before we even touched a weapon, they taught us to plan and think and make sure we were ready for any possibility.” He stroked a hand along the rifle’s barrel. “Of course, I hope the only possible outcome when we arrive is that I get to end whoever has had the brilliant idea of opening fire on our brothers and sisters.”

“Bro, you’re telling me.” Jenna patted her rifle. “Good thing we didn’t use up all our ammo on those damn Skulls.”

“Sounds like Dom’s team got it worse than us,” Miguel said. “I mean, a fricking horde? When’s the last time you saw that many Skulls?”

Andris shrugged. “I am just glad he used one of my old tactics to destroy them.”

“Setting fire to a barn?” Jenna asked, brow raised.

Andris pressed his palms together and then spread them, blowing out a breath as he mimed an explosion. “Making a big boom. I don’t care how you do it. I like the fireworks.”

Andris was certifiably nuts. But it was the kind of nuts that made you thankful to have him on your side. Miguel had a feeling that if this guy hadn’t sublimated his baser instincts and joined the Legion, he might’ve made the news as one of those arsonists you hear about, setting buildings on fire for kicks.

“Making our final approach,” Frank said.

All the humor he’d shared with them earlier had evaporated. Miguel figured it had something to do with the sight of the smoke pillar rising from the barn next to the farmhouse. Or maybe the dozens upon dozens of Skull corpses lying in the fields. Or it could have been the Skulls still lumbering through the fields, headed toward the farmhouse like sharks that had caught the faintest scent of blood.

“What’ll I do?” Hooper asked.

“You stay on the chopper and be good for Frank,” Miguel said. “Frank, where you putting us down?”

“Dom gave me some coordinates where they think the first sniper was shooting from,” Frank replied. “I’ll get you low, but this baby isn’t exactly the type to withstand a hailstorm of lead, and I don’t much like the idea of being turned into Swiss cheese, you dig? You’re going to have to make like a one-night stand and get out quick and quiet.”

The chopper lowered toward the forest just north of a wheat field where Dom had reported the first shots. Apparently, they had spotted enemy forces from the east and west too. Miguel expected to find at least three concentrated areas of hostiles. If his team was lucky, they could capture someone alive and get better intel on exact locations and numbers.

“Jett and I will keep an eye out from the sky,” Frank said. “If we see something, you can bet we’ll say something.”

Across the wheat field, toward the barn and farmhouse, Miguel spotted Jett’s chopper circling past the Skull-filled cornfield.

“Yeah, watch our asses, flyboy, and we’ll watch yours,” Jenna said.

“Everyone wants to watch my ass,” Frank said.

“Seriously?” Andris asked.

“Deadly.”

Some people coped with existential horror and death by turning off all emotion. Others let rage fill them. And then there were people like Frank who relied on humor with an extra helping of cheese to get through even the darkest moments. Frank was one of those who would crack an absolutely awful joke filled with black humor even when he saw a fifty-megaton nuke headed right toward his head. A rare breed, for sure.

“Here’s as close as I get,” Frank said.

Miguel stood from his jump seat. “Door open, rope out.”

Andris cranked back the helicopter’s side door. Jenna tossed out the fast rope. Its end fell through the tree canopy and into the forest. Jenna went first, wrapping her legs around the rope and using her gloves to slow her descent. She disappeared beneath the curtain of green leaves whipping about in the rotor wash.

“Clear,” she called up through the comms.

Andris went next, followed by Miguel. The ground came up and hit Miguel’s boots. Leaves and twigs kicked up.

“Free to fly, Frank,” Miguel said.

“Tell me when and where, and I’ll be back like Arnold,” Frank called over the line.

“Copy that.” Miguel shot hand signals at Andris and Jenna.

They spread into combat intervals as they delved into the forest; the thrumming beat of the chopper blades faded.

No doubt the enemy, wherever they were, had heard and seen that chopper. They’d know a fresh pack of hunting dogs had just been deposited in the forest, so Miguel and the team would need to be fast if they hoped to head off the enemy.

He led them this time. The group advanced, providing bounding overwatch as they navigated the woods, circling far to the east. Miguel wanted to come in on the enemy’s flank.

Dom’s instructions on where Miguel’s team should start looking were extremely helpful in getting them close to where the enemy might be positioned. The combatants would have to be hunkered down at the edge of the woods to get the clear shots they had across the field and to the farmhouse. That should make Miguel’s job a little easier.

What he hadn’t expected was for the enemy to keep firing on Dom and company at the farmhouse. The constant chatter of gunfire was basically the enemy serving themselves up on a platter, already basted and covered in savory seasoning.

“Dom, we’re moving in from the south,” Miguel reported over the comms. “Using the gunfire to navigate. If you can keep them firing, please do it.”

“We don’t have to do much,” Dom said. “These people are trigger-happy.”

Miguel listened to the pop and boom of weapons. “Either they’re trying to make a move on you guys, or they don’t have an ounce of military training.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Dom said. “We’re ready in case they’re trying to cover for another group infiltrating the farmhouse. But if you could be so kind as to eliminate whoever is out there providing that suppressing fire, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“On the Bethany, all drinks are free, Chief.”

“See?” Dom said. “I’ve already paid ahead.”

Miguel continued sneaking as fast as he could toward the sound of the gunshots. The team was nearly at the edge of the forest now. The last panes of daylight seeped into the woods, casting long shadows. He hoped they could end this battle soon. Last thing they wanted was to be stuck out here in the dark with a bunch of crazy gunmen in a forest filled with Skulls.

The gunfire was booming now, crashing against Miguel’s eardrums. He signaled for the team to slow. Then between the shots came the crunch of leaves and twigs somewhere ahead. He held up his fist, and the team froze.

A Skull came rushing headlong through the woods. Its bony shoulders tore into the bark of trees unlucky enough to be in its path. Two more beasts were following it. They seemed to be seeking out the gunfire just like Miguel.

Maybe a lucky break.

Miguel rushed after the Skulls. The beasts crashed through the forests, busting through branches and scraping their claws over the oaks and pine. Their tumultuous, headlong rush toward the gunfire provided ample cover for Miguel’s own advance.

He ran even harder when the Skulls screeched.

“Blood in the water,” Miguel said to Jenna and Andris.

The Skulls had locked on to their prey. Which meant Miguel and the team had too.

They raced after the Skulls. One of the monsters let out a wailing hunting cry. It leapt through the branches. An all-too-human scream followed. Then came a couple pops of gunfire. More rounds.

The first Skull fell backward. Through the trees, Miguel could just make out its face, covered in blood. Its chest was a riven mess of bullet holes. It stumbled, crimson pouring from its wounds, before it fell and disappeared behind a fallen tree.

“Move deeper into the woods,” Miguel said. “We’ll use the Skulls as cover to get around the other side and flank the shooters.”

More gunfire erupted through the darkening woods in stabbing lances of light. Miguel counted at least four gunmen from the muzzle flashes. Might have been more with their sights fixed on the farmhouse.

Time to find out.

He, Jenna, and Andris spread out once again. They posted up behind trees as the last of the Skulls fell to a wave of bullets. The Skulls’ distraction gave Miguel the time he needed to peer around the tree, counting the assholes who’d been firing at his boss.

Three of the bastards had their eyes on the side where the Skulls had come from. The other six were firing toward the south with a menagerie of weapons. Looked like they’d raided a National Guard Depot back in the early days of the Tide.

“I think I got another!” one of the men shouted. “Got him right in the fucking chest!”

Miguel wasn’t sure whether he believed the guy. But the man’s bragging was enough to set him on fire. Most shocking wasn’t the boasting, though.

It wasn’t even these guys setting up a trap after a Skull attack or them trying to kill the Hunters. Nor was it their weapons.

Each of them wore armor. Not your normal, run-of-the-mill body plate carrier with ceramic inserts. No, they’d taken parts of the Skulls, carved off shoulder blades and ribs and even the front of the monsters’ faces to make masks and coverings. They looked like a horrifying amalgam of Skull and man. Like Hybrids that hadn’t quite finished transforming.

He’d only seen this one other time. Back on a mission in the Congo, when a rebel group standing up to the FGL had donned Skull armor to disguise themselves. Sometimes it helped conceal them among a group of Skulls.

He wasn’t sure why these people had decided to dress up as Skulls. Worst type of cosplay he’d ever seen. Made him wonder if the attacks people had seen on agricultural businesses and companies weren’t just Skulls and/or Hybrids but some of these cultists dressed up to play the part. Kind of like how the colonists dressed up as Native Americans during the Boston Tea Party.

“We’ll give them a chance to surrender,” Miguel said.

“I’d rather we not give them any,” Andris replied.

“We all do things we don’t want to do,” Jenna said.

“Whatever happens, I want one kept alive,” he said to the others, whispering over the comms. He pointed out the target he wanted to interrogate. “On my mark.”

He sighted up the first of the assholes.

Then in his best, booming voice, he shouted, “Drop your weapons and put your hands up!”

Not a single gunman complied. Instead, they twisted around, a couple already firing wildly in the direction of Miguel’s voice despite the fact that they clearly hadn’t sighted him up.

Turned out Andris got his wish.

The Skull cosplayers didn’t have a chance. Not against a group of trained operators with every advantage. The gunfire rang out in a concerted volley, and one by one, the combatants went down, dropping their scoped rifles. All except the one Miguel had told them to spare.

While the man fired a wild volley toward Jenna’s position, Miguel ducked low and rushed the guy. He slammed into the man’s chest. The impact broke one of the Skull ribs the man was using for his gruesome costume.

The guy still had one hand around his rifle. He tried to swing it up toward Miguel in a clumsy, halfhearted attempt to blow off Miguel’s hand.

Not that he ever had a chance. Miguel slammed his prosthetic hand against the guy’s wrist. A loud snap sounded, and the guy yelped, dropping the rifle.

Miguel used his other hand to crank the Skull mask off the man’s face. He got a good look at a man with a face of leather, a neck tattoo creeping out of his shirt. Looked like the end of a sword or knife, maybe.

The man glared at Miguel, ever defiant. “You’re one of them.”

“Who the hell are you?” Miguel spat.

The guy was still grimacing in pain but managed a demonic grin. “The Children send their—”

It clicked in Miguel’s mind. The story about that night that Dom had chased down a young Hybrid who’d killed himself. A cyanide capsule had done the Hybrid in.

Miguel scooped his hand into the guy’s mouth, using his prosthetic to keep the guy’s mouth open, preventing the bastard from biting down on whatever secret suicide pill he had hiding in there. He fumbled blindly past the guy’s lashing tongue until he found the pill and flung it out.

Then fear wrinkled the man’s expression again. “No, no, no!” he bellowed.

“Andris, Jenna, keep watch!” Miguel asked.

He lowered his face to meet the guy’s, allowing his anger to flow into menace. He twisted his prosthetic arms so the blade slid out of his wrist, slicing against the guy’s flesh just enough to draw blood. Miguel summoned up as much menace as he could. “You’re ready to die. But you don’t get to choose how you die. I can make it real slow.”

It was an empty threat. Miguel didn’t torture people. Wasn’t befitting of a Ranger—or a Hunter. But the guy didn’t know that.

Miguel smelled urine as the guy loosened his bladder in fear.

“Tell me how many other people are—”

Then the guy did something Miguel hadn’t expected. He used both his hands to grab Miguel’s prosthetic, driving the knife into his own throat. Warm liquid sprayed over Miguel from the self-inflicted attack.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Miguel said, trying to staunch the bleeding. “How many others are there? Tell me!”

Blood bubbled between the guy’s lips. He was done talking.

Miguel stood, cursing under his breath as the man bled out in the mud and leaves.

“Miguel,” Andris said, peering through his rifle’s scope. “I’m watching others run from the edge of the woods. They’re fleeing east and west, away from the forest’s edge.”

“Do we go after them?” Jenna asked.

Miguel considered it. “How many?”

“Twenty at least,” Andris said.

He wanted to end every one of them. But their goal wasn’t to clean up these hostiles. It was to ensure that Dom’s team could be picked up. After all, Shelton had been shot.

“Dom, I think we cleared the hostiles,” Miguel said. “They’re retreating. Now might be your best window for pickup before they come back. If they come back. How’s Shelton?”

“Bleeding. Unconscious,” Dom said. “Suffered a concussion when he fell on the roof, I think.”

“Anyone else hurt?” Miguel asked, remembering one of the cultist’s brags.

“Rory took a hit,” Dom said. “No match for his body armor, though.”

Miguel blew out a sigh of relief. “All right, we can cover while you guys load up.”

In seconds, Jett had positioned her chopper in front of the farmhouse. Miguel, Andris, and Jenna swept the edge of the forest, looking for any signs of the enemy taking advantage of Dom and his team’s vulnerability. But besides the sporadic monsters they had to shoot, he didn’t see any more people dressed as Skulls and firing guns.

The rope ladder unfurled from the chopper, and Rory climbed up into it. Still no incoming fire. He set up the rescue basket, lowering it. Then when Meredith and Dom had Shelton settled into it, he cranked it back up. The rest of the team climbed the rope ladder. The only gunfire that rang out were Andris’s shots as he sniped a few determined Skulls still chasing the Hunters.

“We’re clear,” Dom reported. “Meet back at the Bethany immediately.”

-27-

Kara and Caleb had split up. The sun had dropped below the mountains. A full moon hung in the sky, only occasionally partially obscured by the drifting clouds. Not the best cover for a night raid but better than strolling in while the sun was beaming down.

She’d snuck down closer to the drum circle, giving her a view of the back of Ted’s Place. Caleb had set off to where they’d seen the Children’s vehicles southeast of the settlement in a dirt-covered parking lot.

The fire smoldered around the rubber tires. A few embers glowed near the church. Kara had really hoped most of the cultists would have gone back inside the church and tents and wherever the hell else these crazies put their heads down at night. Much to her undying chagrin, it seemed the party was only getting started. The drum circle had grown larger, attracting fellow Children of Kusanagi like Skulls to a bleeding body. The increased pace of the drum circle made Kara anxious.

She could almost feel that this music, this weird ceremony, was headed to a climax. Rosie was crying, Hudson pleading, and Maureen screamed at the Children to let the trio go. They apparently knew their fate was close at hand.

Kara’s eyes drifted to the charcoaled bodies near the church.

A distant howl reverberated into the night. Birds took flight from some trees near the church.

Then the church doors banged open. Skulls with guns came rambling out, hooting and hollering, their voices filling the air.

Kara couldn’t believe her eyes.

Of course, they weren’t Skulls.

She raised her rifle, scoping in on the newcomers.

Was Devon part of this group? Had the Hybrids tricked them?

Ice ran through her veins. Even though she was crouched in the forest, hiding behind the bushes and dense foliage, she felt horribly exposed. Like she was a goat in Jurassic Park, dragged right into the T-Rex’s cage.

Why would the Hybrids do this?

She studied the faces of the newcomers.

Another horrible realization flooded through her mind.

No, no, no. These weren’t Hybrids. They weren’t Skulls.

They were normal people wearing the bones, plates, spikes, and faces of dead Skulls or Hybrids as armor. They were disguising themselves as the beasts.

In daylight, you could probably see their features clearer. Plus, Kara knew the ambling, almost clumsy gait of a normal Skull. Even Hybrids had a distinct way of walking thanks to the damage to their joints and underlying bone structure. As much as they tried to walk and talk like they were uninfected, they couldn’t. It was like asking someone with severe arthritis to just stand up and go for a jog as if they weren’t in pain.

These people in their Skull costumes might fool the average person but not Kara. Not anyone who’d spent a decade tracking and fighting Skulls and all their horrible variants.

Another howl echoed into the night. The people in Skull armor—Kara estimated there were fifteen or so—howled back.

A shiver tremored down her spine. Those people had perfected the Skull howl. Their voices had the same guttural quality, the same animalistic hunger shaking through the hunting cry.

In the distance, another howl sounded. Kara couldn’t tell if it was more Children acting as Skulls or if it was the monsters themselves.

It took only a minute to confirm.

Three Skulls prowled from the tree line in front of the church. They stuck their skeletal noses into the air, sniffing, shrieking occasionally. Their bone plates rattled with each jerky move. Tentatively, they prowled toward the three crisped bodies. Then they let loose in an all-out sprint, clearing the field and leaping up at the bodies. They tore into the burned humans.

A couple more Skulls stalked from the forest’s edge. When they caught sight of the charcoaled feast, they charged headlong to the corpses. The beasts clawed at each other, fighting to get at their food. All the while, the warriors in Skull armor watched, howling and shouting as if the horrifying snap of bones and ripping of flesh brought them unbridled joy.

The sight of these people cheering on Skulls terrified her. People shouldn’t want this kind of destruction. They shouldn’t be rooting for a pack of wild Skulls as if they were at a baseball game.

She scoped the faces of warriors. Sure enough, most were smiling or grinning. A few looked on stoically. Not disgusted or fearful. Simply observant, as if this was an everyday ritual. Then she scoped one of the warriors who stood behind the others. His face reflected the glow of the embers.

But unlike the others, she realized, from his fingertips to his face, bone plates bulwarked his body. His short-sleeve shirt revealed arms covered in flesh that looked gray even in the moonlight. Kara’s stomach flipped when she drew her scope over his face. Long claw marks scraped through his bony visage. Tangles of dark, greasy hair intertwined with the crown of short horns growing from his scalp.

He was no human in Skull armor.

This was a Hybrid.

Kara worried she’d made a horrible, horrible mistake. Was this Hybrid one of Devon’s people? Had she alerted those she thought could be allies?

God, that was what she got for trusting people.

Another mistake.

One of the hungry Skulls looked up at the warriors near the church. It howled then started charging, ready for a new feast.

The Hybrid stepped forward, raising his clawed hands. He let loose a haunting cry of his own. When he finished, it seemed the breeze itself had frozen. Nothing in the forest dared to make a sound.

The Skull that had barreled toward the warriors, ready for its next meal, retreated, returning to the ranks of the others tearing apart the charcoaled bodies.

“They are hungry!” the Hybrid bellowed. “Bring them more!”

He turned toward the parking lot in front of Ted’s Place. People from the drum circle began untying Rosie and the other two. The prisoners screamed, shouting incomprehensibly. The sounds of their pleading and begging rose against the sounds of the growling, ravenous Skulls.

Kara’s plan of waiting, of drawing off the drum circle then rescuing the prisoners, was quickly falling apart before it could begin.

Caleb would be out at the other end of the settlement, waiting for her signal to act. And now, she wondered if it was a mistake to do anything at all. If maybe these three people were already condemned. If she was just throwing her life away—and Caleb’s—if she tried to rescue them.

She heard Rosie’s scream above the others for a moment. “Please, we won’t tell anyone! Just let us go! Please, my sister needs me! She needs me!”

The Children didn’t care.

Kara did.

She couldn’t help but think of Sadie. Not the young woman Sadie had become. But the girl she’d been at the start of the Tide. How she’d been stuck in their neighbor’s house, Skulls beating down their doors, tearing into the house in search of prey. How close Sadie had been to death. How if Kara hadn’t been around, if Kara had done nothing, Sadie would’ve died.

And as stupid as it was, as illogical as it was, as foolish as she knew her entire plan was in that moment, she couldn’t turn away from this.

Shoot, the Hybrids might not be here for another hour or more. If they had anything to do with these Children, if they’d driven Caleb and Kara into a trap, then she might as well act now before they got here. Before they knew she’d begun her rescue mission.

Kara sighted up her rifle on one of the Skulls. Flesh hung between its teeth, and flecks of ash covered its face. She fired. Then she sighted up another Skull. Fire. Two more Skulls were dead as the screams erupted from the drum circle crowd. Most of them went running for the cover of Ted’s Place or the church. The warriors began spreading out, searching for cover between the tents and along the wall of the church. Fear replaced their mirth.

Good.

Kara rushed through the woods, looking for a new shooting position before anyone could get a bead on her.

Come on, Caleb. She ran for a fallen tree. Your turn.

She slid into position, sighting up the Skulls again. The Hybrid let out an ear-shattering shriek, and the remaining few Skulls dispersed, running in various directions, howling as if on the search for prey. Kara caught one in her sights, sending a bullet through its chest. It twisted as it fell, its body sliding through the dirt, legs kicking.

Some of the Children’s warriors began firing in various directions. They had no military discipline. Not like her father and the Hunters. They were operating out of fear instead of practice. Their rounds sprayed uselessly into the woods, no doubt where they thought the gunfire had come from. They didn’t stand a chance in hell at hitting Kara.

But Kara wasn’t here just to massacre these people. She needed to get to the prisoners still half tied up around the pole near the drum circle. Four people were ducking on the ground near them, too frozen by fear to run. Kara would have to run in the open past them to get Rosie and the others, making herself an easy target, even for the disorganized warriors. Worse, she’d be running right out in front of the scattering Skulls and the Hybrid.

Then came a boom that resonated over the settlement. A fireball rippled into the sky, chasing away the darkness. A second boom soon followed, reverberating deep in Kara’s core. Another pillar from hell devoured the night sky.

“The cars!” one of the warriors yelled.

“That’s where they’re attacking!”

Most of the warriors ran off toward the vehicles, rushing between the tents. The Hybrid remained near the church. Of the three human warriors left, Kara noted that one stood calmly near the church entrance. Long hair fell over his shoulders, practically melting into a beard that dangled toward his stomach. The man wore a pale-white vest, and a sword was slung over his back in a curved black sheath. Absolutely ridiculous in Kara’s mind, but it fit the Kusanagi symbolism with the cult. He said something in a voice far too quiet for Kara to hear. He pointed at the prisoners. His intent was clear enough, even if his words weren’t. The Hybrid and the three remaining warriors ran toward the prisoners.

Kara fired a couple of warning shots into the dirt in front of them. One of the warriors stopped midstride then started to retreat toward the church, evidently not expecting the gunfire.

“You never disobey the prophet’s orders!” the Hybrid barked.

He swiped at the fleeing cultist with a clawed hand, slitting the guy’s throat in one even motion. The man crumpled to his knees. His fingers grasped uselessly at the blood seeping over his throat and hands.

The message was clear: if you didn’t follow orders, you died.

That meant Kara trying to strike fear into these people wouldn’t work. They probably feared their leader just as much—if not more—than any unknown danger. Because the other two cultists never turned back once.

Somewhere in the woods to her left, she heard crunching leaves and branches.

The warriors might not have found her yet, but the Skulls would be searching, sniffing her out. Every shot she took would draw them closer.

She felt like she’d been dropped in a pit with spiked walls. And right now, the walls were closing in around her, threatening to crush her.

Gunshots echoed somewhere to the south, toward the vehicles. Kara’s heart skipped a beat. Was that Caleb firing at the warriors? Or had the warriors found him and shot him up?

She raised her rifle, caught one of the two remaining human warriors, and squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked against her shoulder. The man toppled backward, clutching his chest.

It had been a long time since Kara killed another human. Seeing the guy reduced to a flailing, struggling mess as his blood poured between his fingers felt like a hot knife at the back of Kara’s mind. Even if she knew she was justified, even if she knew this might be the right thing to do, she couldn’t dispel the notion she’d taken another life.

She’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. But she aimed for the next human warrior. She sucked in a breath, gently squeezing the trigger back.

Before the shot lanced from her rifle, a rasping growl exploded to her left. She had to throw herself backward as a Skull pounced on the spot where she’d been. Claws and teeth ripped into the soil and foliage. Leaf matter sprayed everywhere, and the bloodthirsty Skull whipped its head about, its bloodshot eyes locking with hers.

She raised the rifle, firing point-blank into its skull. The beast’s head twisted unnaturally to the side. It slumped to the ground in a rotten heap, its odor overwhelming. Then a salvo of bullets flew overhead. More leaves and bark flew with the concerted blasts.

The damned creature had given her position away.

Kara pushed to her feet and ran at a hunch from the ripping bullets. Skull howls bounced off the trees, sounding as if the beasts were coming from every direction.

There was definitely no turning back now.

Adrenaline pummeled through Kara. Her heart raced fast enough that she thought it might make her fly when she leapt over a fallen log. She sprinted through the forest until she reached another thick tree. With the creatures pounding through the forest somewhere behind her, lurking in the shadows, seeking her out, she stole a breath and twisted around the tree. One more human warrior and the Hybrid. Each firing in her direction. Bark and twigs flew with each shot piercing the forest.

She tuned everything out. Focused on her rifle. And one more squeeze of the trigger.

A pained scream flew out from the other person.

Kara briefly considered taking another shot. But the crunching branches and the sounds of animals crashing through the woods told her she didn’t have that luxury. Instead, she sprinted out of the cover of trees, firing a concentrated blast at the Hybrid, providing her own suppressing fire.

Screams shot out from the four drum circlers still cowering near the prisoners. Rosie, Hudson, and Maureen joined the cacophony with their own screaming.

The Hybrid let his rifle drop and charged headlong at Kara’s position. She guessed he’d emptied his rifle, and when he tossed it aside, he all but confirmed her guess. She shouldered her own weapon and began firing at him, chasing him down with her bullets best as she could.

But like all healthy Hybrids, he was fast. Fast as a Skull. He threw himself into the air, climbing onto the roof of Ted’s Place, where she lost sight of him.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Kara backpedaled toward the prisoners. She needed to put as much distance as she could between herself and wherever the Hybrid went.

Before she made it to Rosie and the others, a roar blasted from the woods. Two more Skulls charged out, talons kicking up clumps of dirt and grass, claws outstretched. She was forced to turn toward them and hurled a series of shots that pummeled their organic armor.

That was exactly what the Hybrid had been waiting for. He threw himself off the roof, landing right in front of Kara with a heavy thump. His claws stabbed out with unbridled ferocity, striking toward her neck and chest. It was all she could do to back up and parry his blows. He slashed and clawed at her, over and over, his attack relentless. His organic weapons rang out against the metal of her rifle.

Until she missed one strike that tore into her side. Hot pain seethed through her flesh, rising around her ribs. A fire scorched her nerves, and she nearly lost her grip on her rifle, dropping to a knee. The Hybrid bore down on her, raising both fists like it was going to pummel her into the dirt.

But she could deal with pain. She’d endured worse. Kara rolled to the side as the Hybrid hammered down into the dirt where she’d been a moment ago. Then she whipped up her rifle, firing without aiming.

So close, she couldn’t miss anyway.

Bullets punched into the Hybrid’s side. Bone puckered out through the fresh holes in his clothes. He turned toward her as if determined to take her down despite his fresh wounds. He took one step. Another. Blood dribbled out between his fanged teeth.

He toppled forward.

Kara took only a second to take a deep breath then rushed to Rosie and the other two. Her fingers shook with adrenaline.

“I’m here to help!” Kara said. She let her rifle fall on its sling then tore out her knife.

The sight of the blade sent Rosie and the others screaming. Again.

“I’m here to help!” she said. “Stop!”

They were struggling with their ropes. The last thing she needed was them panicked and running off into the woods when she cut their bonds. One of the drum circlers who’d been frozen by fear nearby seemed to think this was the perfect time to play hero.

The cultist woman rose from the ground then let out a shrill howl. She rushed Kara.

“Son of a…” Kara flung her rifle up and fired.

The woman stopped in her tracks, cold realization pouring through her features. Her eyes rolled back, and she toppled with a heavy thud. The other three drum circle cultists finally realized what was going on and shook themselves from their shock, sprinting away.

“I’m here to help, do you understand?” Kara shouted at Rosie.

Rosie’s face was screwed up in fear and panic.

“Do you know Caleb?” Kara asked.

Rosie tilted her head.

“Caleb Graham from West Virginia.”

“I-I… know Caleb.”

“I’m here with him. He’s helping us escape right now. Okay. Can you trust me?”

She nodded.

Kara began cutting the ropes binding Rosie’s legs to the pole. “Rosie, I’m going to need you to help me out.”

Again, Rosie nodded. A series of ghoulish screams and shrieks exploded from the woods. More gunfire sounded over the settlement past the tents, down where the vehicles were. Fire still licked at the sky, casting twisted shadows over the road between here and the parking lot.

“We’re going to need to stick together and move fast,” Kara said.

She finished cutting the ropes around Rosie’s hands. The woman stood, and not a second later, a Skull blazed out from the woods. Kara let go of her knife and cranked up her rifle, firing at the Skull. Bullets cracked into the beast’s shoulder and chest, dropping it before it could make it far. Its body slid through the grass.

Rosie was still standing there beside the pole.

“Rosie, grab the knife. Free your friends,” Kara said as calmly as she could.

She switched her aim from the woods to the parking lot, her rifle roving back and forth. She waited for the next threat, human or monster. Another pair of monsters emerged from the forest not far from Ted’s Place. As they ran toward Kara, the pop of gunfire intensified near the parking lot. Shouting filled the air, and she even spotted movement from the front of the church as more people with guns flooded out.

Kara sent the Skulls to hell first then swiveled around, firing at the church. Bullets smacked against its wall, sending the incoming warriors to the ground as they sought cover.

“Rosie, how we looking?” Kara asked.

“Almost… almost… almost got it.”

Kara saw the second woman standing free. Rosie was working on Hudson’s ropes when the growl of a car engine pierced the chaos of battle.

An SUV with one working headlight barreled down the road right at her. The muzzle flash of rifles sparked behind it.

“Oh no,” Rosie muttered.

“Keep on his ropes!” Kara shouted, pointing at Hudson.

She had to stay on her heels as another handful of Skulls trickled out from the woods. Gunfire sprayed from the church too.

And that SUV was drawing ever closer.

But she didn’t dare fire on it yet. Not until she saw for sure who was driving. The front passenger door flung open as the SUV approached, the driver leaning over as the tires ground to a stop on the gravel road.

Caleb was in the front seat, his right shoulder bloody. “Get in!”

Kara didn’t need a second invitation. She ushered the three rescuees into the back seat then hopped in the front passenger seat. Leaning out the open side window, she sprayed a wild burst of gunfire back at the cultists to keep them down. The engine roared as the tires caught purchase again, sending the SUV rocketing forward.

Kara sank into her seat. “You need to get out of here before they give chase.”

“Ain’t going to happen,” Caleb said. “The cars that ain’t burning got no air in the tires. I took care of ‘em.”

“Good job, Caleb.”

“Not such a bad thing to work with a friend, huh?”

“Caleb, that’s really you?” Rosie leaned forward from the back seat. “Oh my God, you’re hurt.”

“Just a graze,” he said. “I’ll be okay. How about y’all?”

“We’re okay. Now.”

Kara looked back to see Hudson and Maureen huddled together, both white as ghosts still. Not that she blamed them. The single headlight illuminated their path to escape, down the gravel road plagued by overgrown roads. Soon as they hit the highway, they could rocket back toward civilization. Back toward safety.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Caleb said.

Kara thought she caught his voice trembling.

“Just so glad to see you again, Rosie. I promise we’ll—”

The headlight bobbed as they came over a shallow hill. Caleb had to slam on the brakes.

Straight ahead, three SUVs were barreling toward them. All three screeched to a halt, spreading out across the road, blocking Caleb’s escape. The doors opened, and people poured out, bearing weapons.

Kara’s stomach sank.

The Hybrids. They’d come all right. But it didn’t look like they were here to help Kara and the others.

-28-

Dom could smell the pine and dirt on his fatigues as he sat outside the medical bay of the Bethany. Meredith was beside him, a cup of water in hand, dirt smudges across her face. They smelled like they’d just spent the night in a grungy bar where smoking wasn’t just allowed but encouraged.

Only now that Dom had spent an hour sitting, waiting desperately for news on Shelton’s condition, did he feel the aches and pain in his muscles and bones. His body told him it had been a mistake to go out in the field like that. Especially on a mission that had ended in an enveloping gun battle.

But Dom didn’t listen to people who told him what he couldn’t do. Not even when his own body argued with him. Because despite the disastrous ending to their mission, they’d come away with the samples Shelton and Hooper had told them they’d need. He desperately hoped Peter Mikos, the resident doctor and surgeon aboard the ship, was taking good care of Shelton. Mikos was talented, though he could be hotheaded at times. Wasn’t well known for his bedside manners—and truth be told, as talented as he was, it was always better to have more than one doctor aboard, especially in crucial surgeries like this. Having a backup doc ensured other patients could be taken care of. Or sometimes one doctor missed a symptom or sign that another caught.

With so much riding on Peter’s success in ensuring Shelton walked out of the medical bay healthy, it made Dom miss Lauren Winters, the former medical specialist who had been instrumental in the war against the Oni and Heikegani Agents. She was responsible for many of the breakthroughs related to the cures and compounds they used on the microscopic battlefield against the Oni Agent. Lauren hadn’t retired from the Hunters alone. Field operator and former Green Beret, Glenn Walsh, had left the Hunters with her to raise a family.

The two of them deserved their retirement.

Still…

“I want to call Lauren,” Dom said.

“It’s too late for the surgery,” Meredith said.

“I know,” he said. “Shelton’s life is in Peter’s hands now.”

“Lauren said she was done.”

“Things have changed.”

“Things are always changing.”

Dom grimaced. “We might need her. This blight… It’s something new. Something worse than anything we’ve faced since the FGL were defeated.”

“We told her we’d respect her retirement. Hers and Glenn’s. They’re happy now. They’ve got a kid.”

“I know more than anyone this ship isn’t the place to raise kids, but their lives might be at as much risk as anyone’s in America if we can’t stop this blight. She wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t tell her this was going on.”

“You don’t know for sure that she can even help. Her specialty is human pathology. Not plants.”

“And we don’t know for sure that she can’t help.”

Meredith gave Dom a sorry laugh. “Look, I know you won’t even listen to me. But as the first mate of this ship and your second-in-command, I’d be remiss if I didn’t remind you of our agreements with our crew—former and current.”

“You know I appreciate it. Got to have someone to keep me in line. Look, maybe you’re right. Maybe I have no business interjecting myself into Lauren and Glenn’s lives. But if they knew what was going on and we didn’t say something about it, they’d feel guilty we left them out.”

“Exactly why I don’t think we should contact them. You and I know they’ll come running.” She was quiet for a second. “You’re still going to call them, aren’t you?”

“I have to,” Dom said. “This situation is already out of hand. I want to get ahead of this before it explodes into something even worse. I could use Glenn’s help in the field—especially after today—and while Navid and Sean are good in the lab, they’re in for some very long nights working alone. We need help. Help from people we can trust. Especially from someone who knows how to study and stop pandemics. I don’t know anyone better than Lauren.”

Meredith held up her hands in a placating gesture. “All right. You’ve got me convinced. We can reach out.”

Dom didn’t like doing it. Knew it was manipulative to recruit them with the selling point that they were needed to help prevent a potential devasting second apocalypse after the Tide had already nearly destroyed the country. But his team had been surrounded today. They’d faced an enemy unlike anything they’d seen in years. And judging by the state of those farmlands, the blight was even worse than the reports his science team had put together. All those numbers on the big screens and computer monitors were one thing; seeing the devastation in person was a visceral punch to the gut.

“The Children of Kusanagi want to see the Oni Agent burn through this country,” Dom said. “They worship the Agent and what it’s done.”

“They’re not just throwing Molotov cocktails at ships,” Meredith said. “They’re obviously protecting the blight. They’re probably helping spread it—if they aren’t the ones that started it in the first place.”

Dom nodded. “They believe what the Skulls are doing is right. That this destruction is something that people who aren’t in their cult deserve. So of course they would dress up as the Skulls when they attack.”

“I just totally underestimated their numbers,” Meredith said. “None of the intel Thornfield passed on mentioned how wide and powerful their network really is.”

“If it’s true, if they’re responsible for all this, then they’re like an insidious cancer. Metastasizing before we could catch it.”

Meredith leaned back in her seat, brushing her hand through her red hair. “I knew our intelligence capabilities had been crippled in the Tide, but I never realized just how bad it was. To think everyone missed something like this until now…”

“Back before the Tide, when we were at full strength, when Langley was fully staffed and fully funded, even they missed the Oni Agent. So I’m not entirely surprised.”

Meredith turned away. She’d been an intelligence officer and the Hunters’ official handler in the CIA during the collapse. Even ten years later, she carried the burden of guilt, often blaming herself for the Oni Agent’s spread. It didn’t matter that they’d proved there’d been nothing she could’ve done differently to stop it. She was always brainstorming things she could have done differently, questions she should have asked, and planning how she would catch it next time.

Dom had never thought there would be a next time.

Seemed like he’d been wrong.

Dom reached out a hand to caress hers. “We will stop it.”

She squeezed his hand. “We have to.” Then she gave him a weak smile. “Is this your way of trying to guilt me into wanting to bring Lauren and Glenn back into the fold?”

“I’m offended you’d think I’m that devious.” He returned her smile. “Really, we have to stop this. We can stop this. We’re responsible for trying and doing everything in our power to make it happen.”

“I can’t disagree. Thornfield still owes us that full briefing on the Children. I’ll follow up with him.”

“Good. Because I want to know if he uncovered anything about their possible ties to the blight.”

“Agreed,” she said. “But it’s not just the blight that bothers me.”

“Oh?”

“The Skulls. The Children wielded the beasts like weapons. They trapped us with that horde. That shouldn’t be possible…”

“Unless.”

They looked at each other, knowing the horrible answer.

Before they could voice it, the hatch to the medical bay opened.

Peter came out, his surgical mask pulled down. Sweat trickled down his forehead under his face shield. “Surgery’s done.”

“Shelton?” Dom asked.

“Waking up now. He will make it. No problem.”

“Never had any doubt,” Meredith said.

Peter grinned. “With me at the surgical table, you should not.”

They followed him into the bay where Shelton was in a patient bed. A blanket was pulled up over his belly. A big white bandage was placed over his left pectoral, and his right arm was in a sling.

Shelton’s eyes fluttered as they surrounded his bed. He looked up at each of them, his lids half closed.

“I’m alive?” he asked with a groggy voice.

Peter looked almost offended. “As I was saying to Dom and Meredith, of course you are. I performed the surgery. And to be quite honest, you were very lucky. Bullet didn’t hit anything vital, just messed up your shoulder.”

“What… what happened?”

“Do you remember the farm?” Dom asked.

Shelton blinked a couple times before his eyelids fully peeled back. “I do. The shooting. The Skulls. I got hit by something. Fell on the roof.” He put a hand at the back of his head. “Woke up with this knot.”

“Right. We were attacked,” Dom said. “A whole cultist army, we think.”

“Why?” Shelton asked. “Why would they do that?”

“Long story, but we’re going to try to figure it out,” Dom said. “To do that, we’ve got some work ahead of us. The samples from the field are waiting to be analyzed and—”

“I’ll do it,” Shelton said, almost begrudgingly. “Of course. I mean, can I do it?”

He looked to Peter.

“You have some muscle damage in your shoulder,” Peter said. “You will not be pipetting with that arm, but you take today to recover. You will have some pain, but if you want to help with the experiments, you can monitor and advise the science team, if you feel up to it.”

“Of course I feel up to it. I’ve got to do it. What about Hooper?”

“He’s fine,” Meredith said. “He’s already in the lab working with the others.”

“Then what am I doing in this bed?” Shelton asked. “The guy’s just a tech. You need a real scientist in there.”

-29-

Navid worked under a laminar flow hood with samples from the crops. Rows of small plastic culture dishes lay across the stainless steel surface. Using a pair of forceps and a scalpel, he cut blight samples into small pieces, no more than a few millimeters long. From a cursory examination, the growths looked nearly the same to him, whether they came from corn or soybeans, wheat or pretty much any other plant from which the Hunters had obtained them.

“Lysing agent,” Navid said to Hooper.

The lab tech hovered behind Navid. He passed a trio of small amber glass containers of chemicals under the hood and placed them on the working surface near Navid’s gloved hands. Using a pipette, Navid deposited droplets of the chemicals on each of the plant samples. He’d never performed a DNA retrieval from plants before. He’d looked up the process on one of the lab’s computers and consulted with Hooper. The thick cell walls of the plants made them more difficult to work with than the mammalian cells Navid usually studied.

While the plant cells were worth examining, Navid was even more concerned about the bacteria or fungal cells within the growths. He needed to perform a full genetic workup on the pathogen responsible for the blight.

After leaving the samples to incubate in solvents that would break up the cell walls and release the DNA within the cells’ nucleus, he turned away from the hood.

“We’ll check on those in a bit,” Navid said. “Soon as the DNA is in the solvent, we’ll isolate it with a purification matrix. Then I’m going to run PCR and DNA sequencing. We’ll use primers to target specific genes for any known blight pathogens. DNA sequencing will get us the data Samantha needs to run all the bioinformatics analyses. She might find matches we miss in the lab. Should help us to figure out where this blight came from too.”

Hooper nodded. “Do you think the bioinformatics analysis will tell us if it’s man-made or not?”

“Maybe. There’s no guarantee we’ll find evidence of genetic tampering. But hopefully we can find some genetic matches to at least let us know what we’re dealing with.”

“And then identify a cure.”

Navid took a few of the blight growth samples to a microscope. He hadn’t deposited any chemicals into these dishes. “You know better than I do that most of these blights can’t be cured.”

“Yeah. I guess I just wondered if you all had some secret sauce that could zap the blight.”

“If we have something in our arsenal—or the government’s—that might work, then that would be great.”

“But you’re not hopeful.”

Navid flipped on the microscope’s light source and bent down to look through the eyepieces. “Are you?”

Hooper was quiet for a few seconds. Navid rotated the focus knobs to get a clearer picture of the blight.

“If it was just me and Shelton working on this stuff, no, I wouldn’t be hopeful. But I thought the government—and maybe you guys—would have access to some fungicides or antibiotics I didn’t know about. You know, with all that DARPA and secret squirrel stuff you all have access to.”

Navid laughed. “How do you know what we have access to?”

“You’re the Hunters. Everyone knows you worked closely with the military to take on the Oni Agent. I’d love to hear all about it, what you actually can and can’t do. Because I just kind of assumed…”

“That what? We have magic powers the rest of the world doesn’t know about?” Navid adjusted the fine focus as the first magnified images of the blight came into view. “I wish.”

“I see.”

Hooper sounded disappointed. Navid didn’t blame him. The guy was probably in over his head. Drowning in the scientific burden that had been dropped on him. One day, you’re just a lab tech working overtime. The next, you’re told the world’s fate is in your hands. You and a couple of science types you’ve never worked with have to figure out what the hell’s threatening America’s food supply.

And you got to do it. Fast.

This wasn’t the best way to conduct science. Biology work was notoriously slow. You couldn’t speed up genetic amplification and analysis any more than you can tell a cell to hurry up and grow. Biology did its own thing.

Shoot. For that matter, there was so much about biology that scientists didn’t fully understand. Even elements of the human body remained a mystery. Only recently a scientist discovered a thin but tight lymphatic-like membrane in the brain hosting immune cells. There were countless diseases for which scientists hadn’t yet developed cures. Viruses and bacteria were continuously changing, evolving faster than researchers could sometimes keep track of.

So yeah. If Hooper seemed disappointed, Navid understood. Way too well.

He could use a couple extra hands in the lab about now. Not that he didn’t trust the technician, but he was missing having the old science team back together. Doctor Lauren Winters would have been a huge asset. She’d led the team before handing the reins to Sean. And without Shelton, their foremost expert in plant pathology, they were operating at a very tangible deficit.

Peter had assured them Shelton would even be in the lab later today, but every minute counted when you were running experiments that might take hours just to get a single data point.

All those anxious thoughts were obliterated when Navid got a closer look at the blight. His knees went weak. “No, no, this can’t be,” he muttered.

“What? What is it?” Hooper asked.

Navid backed away from the microscope and let Hooper look through the eyepiece. “You recognize that?” Navid asked.

He wanted Hooper to say yes. Wanted the tech to confirm it was indeed a pathogen he was very familiar with in his field.

But Hooper backed away from the scope and shook his head. “Never seen anything like this. Why?”

“It doesn’t look familiar at all?”

Hooper’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Should it? Is it some kind of blight I should know about?”

“I’m not an expert in blight. But I really, really want you to tell me you’ve seen something like this in plants before.”

Hooper glanced back into the microscope. “Maybe Shelton has but not me.”

A widening pit in Navid’s stomach threatened to swallow him whole. “I was afraid of that.”

“You think the genetic analyses will help you?”

“Now, more than ever, I hope they do.” Navid slumped on a stool next to a lab bench. Checked a timer. They still had several minutes before they could purify the DNA from the other samples. “How familiar are you with the Oni Agent?”

“I, uh, I know it causes the Skulls. I know it was adapted into the Heikegani Agent to make Hybrids too. But I couldn’t tell you much more than that.”

Navid gulped hard. He’d taught so many people this lesson over the years. Lessons that Lauren had once imparted to him when he’d first started helping the Hunters in their mission. “The most crucial element of the Oni Agent is the engineered nanobacteria. They’re ultrasmall bacteria that scientists weren’t even sure really existed for a long time, on the scale of one hundred to two hundred nanometers in diameter. The small size allows them to penetrate very small spaces—and spread very easily from a Skull’s scratch or bite.”

“I’ve heard a little about this,” Hooper said.

“You know nanobacteria are extremophiles, right?”

“Nope. Not familiar.”

“Okay. Well, basically, the nanobacteria can live in ridiculously harsh environments. Think very high and very low temperatures. Like steam vents in the ocean’s floor. To help protect themselves, they form protective calcified structures. Just like polyps in hard coral. If you take a piece of armor from under a Skull and put it in a scanning electron microscope, you see all the teeny-tiny holes where the nanobacteria propagate as they metabolize living tissue into the calcified growths around a Skull’s bones.”

“That’s what causes the transformation?”

Navid nodded. “That causes the anatomical transformation in a Skull. It’s science our leading expert, Doctor Winters, discovered early in the Tide.”

“What about the aggression?”

“Prions,” Navid said. “Same stuff that causes Mad Cow Disease. There’s a separate DNA segment inside the nanobacteria that’s translated essentially through the nanobacteria’s ribosome into infectious proteins. Those infectious proteins end up in the brain through the circulatory system and start eating away at the Skull’s brain, turning them into the aggressive monstrosities they become.”

“What about the Heikegani Agent?”

“It doesn’t have the same prion component. So it imparts some of the physical changes without the intense psychological shifts from all the brain damage caused by the prions.”

“Okay.” Hooper nodded along. “I’m throwing out a wild guess here, but the blight in there, those growths you isolated, they look a lot like the calcified mineral deposits the Oni Agent nanobacteria form. That’s what you’re getting at, isn’t it?”

It was good to be talking to another science geek. The guy followed along quite well. He also asked great questions, like he knew the subject matter intimately.

“You got it,” Navid said.

“Do you think the Oni Agent mutated over time? Somehow Skulls infected the plants?”

“I have no idea. I just know that the growth I’m looking at appears like what the Oni Agent does to a human. But that doesn’t make sense to me. How about you?”

Hooper leaned against a lab bench, shaking his head. “You’ll have to talk to Shelton. But plant-based diseases infecting humans are super rare. Like, I’m guessing you have a way better chance of being struck by lightning twice before a disease hops from animals to plants. Most plant pathogens just straight up can’t infect animal cells, and vice versa.”

“I would’ve assumed the same too,” Navid said. “But the nanobacteria in the Oni Agent are extremophiles. They’re resilient. Adaptable. I guess it’s possible after ten years, they finally made the leap—or someone pushed them in that direction.”

“I guess,” Hooper said. “Would it matter if it’s engineered or natural?”

“What do you mean?”

Hooper paced in front of the microscope. “If the Oni Agent naturally adapted to plants—or if someone modified it into a bioweapon—would that change the chances of you all curing it?”

“That’s impossible to say,” Navid said. “Frankly, I don’t think it would.”

Hooper almost seemed relieved. “I guess I was curious because you all helped develop some remedies for the Oni Agent. I just wondered, if this is the Oni Agent like you said, then could you adapt something like the Phoenix Compound for instance to stop the blight?”

“I want to believe we could,” Navid said. “But with everything I’ve seen since the Tide, with how unpredictable the Skulls and the Oni Agent are, who the hell knows?”

“I was hoping I was looking at the guy that might,” Hooper said.

-30-

Kara could hardly believe her eyes. Devon stepped out of a vehicle with a rifle in hand. His bone plates rattled as he strode toward her, toward the SUV with Caleb, Rosie, Maureen, and Hudson. They’d barely escaped the cultists’ settlement, and now, just as Kara had feared, the Hybrids seemed ready to finish what the people in Little Orleans couldn’t.

That would teach her to trust anyone else again.

“What the hell is going on?” Devon shouted toward them.

Kara looked for a quick exit. They couldn’t drive around three SUVs and the Hybrids along the road.

The trees and vegetation were too dense to go gallivanting through the forest. If they turned around, they’d race headlong into Little Orleans. She doubted they’d escape that hellhole again. Not with the Skulls and cultist warriors swarming the place.

“Kara!” Devon boomed. “You called us to help you in Little Orleans. Now I find you running away from the town. Is this some kind of trap?”

That confused Kara for a moment. A trap? That had been her question.

“Talk to me, Kara. If this is your way of dragging us into some ambush, it ends now.”

Kara opened the passenger door.

“Kara, don’t,” Caleb said.

“If this goes south, you drive back the way you came,” she said. “You don’t stop. Just plow right through those cultists, keeping your head down.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t get out.”

Kara stepped out. She raised her hands, keeping her rifle slung over her chest.

“Things happened sooner than we expected, Devon,” she said, trying to muster a calmness she didn’t feel. “Do you need to point those guns at me?”

“You told us you wouldn’t do anything until we arrived. And then we hear that gunfire, the flames. You all come racing up without clueing me in on what’s happening. What gives? I thought we had an understanding.”

Kara gulped hard. Time to be honest. She gave them the briefest overview of what she’d seen. “And now we really, really need to get moving.”

Devon lowered his rifle. A couple of howls tore into the night. The glow of the fire from the settlement looked as if the sun was trying to rise from the middle of the forest.

“Follow us,” he said.

The Hybrids got back in their vehicles.

“What do you want me to do?” Caleb asked.

“You heard him. Follow them.”

“We could just drive back to Cumberland.”

“No!” Rosie shouted. “Not back there! Please!”

“Why?”

“I… There’s so much to explain, Caleb.”

Kara turned back to Rosie. “Do you know those Hybrids? You seen them before?”

She shook her head. “No. Why?”

Kara couldn’t help but think of the Hybrid they’d seen in the settlement. “They never came around Little Orleans?”

Again, Rosie shook her head. “Not these ones.”

“Follow them, Caleb,” Kara said.

He did.

They took several winding paths through the forest, bumping over untended roads filled with vegetation. It took only thirty minutes before they made it to what looked like a small neighborhood of cabins in the middle of the forest. Candlelight flickered from the windows of several cabins.

The Hybrids’ SUVs stopped in front of one.

Devon got out of the passenger side of his vehicle, telling the other Hybrids to spread out around the town in case Skulls or other interlopers had followed them home.

Kara ushered Caleb and the gang out of the SUV, signaling them to follow her toward Devon.

“I really, really don’t like this,” Caleb said.

“You don’t have to like it,” Kara said.

“We can’t go back to Cumberland,” Rosie said.

“Yeah, no way,” Hudson said. “It’s not safe there.”

“How do you know it’s safe here?” Caleb asked.

“I’ll take my chances,” Kara said.

When they reached Devon, he jerked his chin toward one of the cabins. “This way.”

He opened the door to reveal a home with old, dusty decorations and dilapidated furniture befitting the wilderness feel of the small town. There was a Hybrid woman at a wood-burning stove with a teakettle. The light of the stove glimmered off her face when she turned around.

“What’s going on?” she asked. Then her mouth dropped. “You all look like you got the tar beaten out of you. What’s the damage?”

Devon looked at Kara.

“Caleb took a hit,” Kara said. Then she pulled up her shirt to reveal the scratches along her ribs.

The Hybrid woman took a step backward. “That from a Skull?”

“Hybrid.”

The woman looked relieved. “You aren’t in immediate danger, then.”

“I’m not going to go wild and kill everyone anytime soon,” Kara clarified. Fortunately, she never went anywhere without Phoenix Compound or Hybrisil. Just like the Phoenix Compound, Lauren Winters and Navid Ghasemi had been part of the team that developed Hybrisil after the Tide. It functioned similarly to the Phoenix Compound, only it neutralized the effects of the Heikegani Agent instead of the Oni Agent. “And I’ve got Hybrisil in my pack.”

“So you won’t turn into one of us.”

Kara felt slightly guilty when she nodded. She had a choice the woman never had. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m bad at introductions,” Devon said. “This is my wife, Sheila.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Kara. I take it this is your home.”

Sheila nodded as she reached under the sink, coming out with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cloth. “It is.”

“Thanks for letting us in.”

“Oh, it wasn’t my choice. You can thank Devon for that. Now go. Sit. Those wounds need tending.”

The group settled into the old Adirondack furniture in the living area. Sheila immediately began dabbing Kara’s wounds with the cloth. “It’s not too deep. You’re lucky. But you’ll need stitches.”

The blood was seeping out over Kara’s pants and onto the couch. She’d been so fueled by adrenaline she’d barely noticed it before. “Ah, I’m sorry for that.”

“There’s been worse on these couches. Trust me. A little blood will come out.” She handed the cloth and rubbing alcohol to Devon. “You take care of that young man. I’ll do the stitches.”

Kara cocked a brow.

Sheila pursed her cracked lips. “I was—am—a nurse.”

She disappeared out of the living room, and Kara heard her rummaging about through what had to be the bathroom.

Devon set about cleaning the wound on Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb had been lucky. It was just a graze like he’d said. If it had hit him a few inches down, he would’ve had a punctured lung.

“I really want a thorough explanation,” Devon said.

“So do I,” Kara said.

The three former prisoners just looked around quietly, as if none of them could believe how they’d been transported from a town of cultists to the home of Hybrids in the last half an hour. Sheila passed out bandages and rubbing alcohol to them so they could clean up some of their own small lacerations.

Kara explained everything they’d seen since leaving Devon’s side. She paused when she talked about the Hybrid she’d killed. “You all didn’t know him, did you?” she asked.

“You think just because we’re Hybrids we know every Hybrid in America?”

Kara huffed. “No, it’s just that… Little Orleans is so close to here, and—”

Devon admired his work on Caleb’s wound before applying a bandage with tape and gauze. “I’m just giving you crap. But no, I don’t know of any Hybrid from our town that would have gone off and joined up with the Children. It sounds insane.”

“But it’s real,” Caleb said. “Every bit of it is real.”

“Look, I’m not doubting you. But you got to understand, we weren’t there. And from my perspective, I just got a call from a person I met only hours ago asking for armed assistance, and then all this crap happens.”

“Why did you respond?” Caleb asked. “You barely know us.”

Devon pressed his clawed fingers over the bandage and gauze, making sure it was pressed in place. “Because it was the right thing to do. What Kara described was unacceptable.” He turned toward the three former prisoners who still hadn’t said a word. “I’m not the type of person to let innocent people die. You know the people I told you we saved from those cabins you saw earlier today? They’re in my friend Bryson’s cabin. All cozy and safe from the Skulls.”

He looked at Caleb with a pointed stare. “I guess me and my people just want to prove to all you nonbelievers there’s good in us, despite what you think. What kind of decent person would just stand by while innocent people were strung up to burn alive in our backyard?”

Sheila started suturing up Kara’s wound. Each bite of the needle sent a tingle of pain through Kara’s flesh, though she did her best not to wince.

“After all, didn’t you do the same? Didn’t you want to save these people?” Devon asked Caleb.

“I knew Rosie,” Caleb replied.

“Ah, so you’re saying we’re better people than you are. We didn’t know any of y’all, and we still came out to help.” Devon put a hand on Caleb’s shoulder and gave him a grin before leaving his side to drop in a seat of his own. “Look, I’m not sure how much we can help y’all now. But I get the whole battle and escape and all that. Why were you three ever in that place?”

Devon surveyed Rosie, Hudson, and Maureen now.

The trio looked among each other as if silently nominating a speaker.

Rosie took the lead again. “We wanted to join the Children of Kusanagi.”

Kara let that sink in for a couple seconds. “I’m sorry. You wanted to join them?”

Rosie’s bottom lip trembled.

“Rosie, no.” Caleb pulled a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “You got to be lying. You left me… to join them.”

A tear welled out of Rosie’s eye, streaking through the dirt on her cheek. “The Children are everywhere, okay? I didn’t know what I was doing. I thought I was helping.”

“Helping what?” Kara asked.

Sheila tied off the stitches on one of the long gouges in her ribs, and Kara bit her bottom lip to prevent from cursing.

“Rosie,” Caleb entreated. “Why’d you do that?”

“The Children are all over Cumberland. I can list out probably five or six people you wouldn’t even know are with them.”

“You’re kidding,” Caleb said.

“I wish I was.” Candlelight flickered over her face, reflecting off another tear. “They come to you all sweet at first. You know Cynthia?”

“At the bakery?” Caleb asked.

“She was the first one who told me about the Children. I mean, we were talking for months. Before you even came to Cumberland. It started all innocently. We would just chat about how rough the world was. Slowly, she convinced me that humans were the problem. That maybe it wasn’t so bad if some more people died off because we just didn’t have the resources to keep everyone alive. She even got me to believe that the people who were dying deserved it. Because if you were good enough, if you were smart enough, you could control the Oni Agent. You could even control the Skulls.”

“You believed that shit?” Kara asked.

Rosie flinched.

Hudson spoke up. “I know it sounds stupid now. We get it. That’s why we wanted to leave. We realized how batshit it all was eventually. It’s just… when you’re hungry, when your family and friends are all dead, you start thinking about things differently. You want answers, and when the Children come in and tell you they got them, that you can be chosen, that you can be spared the death coming to everyone else, you believe it. Not because it makes sense. But because they make you think you don’t have another choice.”

“It’s awful, I know.” Rosie pressed her face into her hands, sniffling. “And I left Brenna behind. It’s why I wanted to leave them. Why I had to leave them.”

Kara assumed Brenna was the sister Rosie had mentioned when begging for her life back in Little Orleans.

Hudson spoke up this time. “We tried to sneak out. We tried to leave. But they caught us. Those three people that were all burned, that they fed to the Skulls? They were trying to leave the Children with us.”

“They were going to burn you, too, then?” Kara asked.

Rosie nodded. “We were supposed to be an example of what happens if you betray the Children.”

“They can all rot,” Hudson said, his face screwed up in anger. “They can all… They can all…”

His words devolved into a blubbering mess. Maureen wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close, the two of them letting their grief and fear and shock overflow in tears.

Rosie locked eyes with Caleb. “I’m sorry I just left Cumberland. I’m sorry I left you and my sister and thought the Children were right. I guess, underneath it all, I knew I was wrong. That’s why I didn’t tell you. That’s why I didn’t tell Brenna why I was leaving.”

“We can take you home,” Caleb said. “You can be safe again.”

“No, I’m not safe. Not anywhere the Children are. Not in Cumberland. Not anywhere else.”

“You’re safe here,” Devon said. Sheila shot him a look. “At least for the time being. I can’t guarantee we can keep you all here long-term. But until you figure out your next move, sure.”

Sheila nodded at that, finishing up the last stitches on Kara’s side. She placed gauze over the wound and taped it in place. “So long as you all don’t bring those cultists here.”

“No intention of doing that at all, ma’am,” Rosie said. Then she swallowed hard, staring at Kara. “Who are you anyway?”

“Kara Holland. Former Hunter. Work for myself now.”

“Hunter?” Rosie asked. “Maybe…” She glanced at Hudson and Maureen. “You got to stop the Children. You all worked with the military, right? You can tell them what we saw. You can tell them they have to eradicate the Children. Because they’re not going to stop.”

“Look, we’ll find you a safe place to stay,” Kara said.

“No, it’s not just me and Hudson and Maureen they want to kill. They won’t stop until they cut down the rest of society. They want everyone else dead. Everyone, Kara. You’ve got to stop them.”

-31-

Dom entered the electronics workshop to find Shelton there with his arm in a sling. Dom wanted to keep the group small, with only Navid and Meredith also in attendance.

“Ready?” Meredith asked as Dom leaned against a desk behind her.

He folded his arms over his chest. “Ready.”

The screens on the forward section of the bulkhead flickered to life. An image of a man with slicked-back gray hair appeared. Wrinkles spread from his crystal-blue eyes.

“Captain Holland, Webb,” Elias Thornfield said. “I see we’ve got two guests.”

“This is Navid Ghasemi, one of our resident scientists, and Doctor Shelton.”

“Ah, yes, from Evergreen Solutions.” Thornfield made a show of looking at his watch. “I don’t have much time, but you can be sure I want to hear your update.”

“Time is something none of us has right now,” Dom said. “In the past day since coming back to the ship, we’ve uncovered some startling information about the spreading blight. We’ll keep it as short and sweet as possible.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Dom nodded at Navid.

“We’ve performed a series of laboratory and computational experiments,” the researcher said. “I’m afraid all these efforts have confirmed the blight is caused by a variation of the Oni Agent.”

“The Oni Agent?” Thornfield asked. “That’s impossible.”

“I thought so too,” Navid said, “and as much as I tried to disprove it, I can’t.”

“You’re no expert botanist though, are you?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

Shelton spoke up. “I am, though. I reviewed all the data. I’ve supervised some of the experiments myself, and as much as I hate to say it, Navid is correct. The blight appears to be caused by a variation of the Oni Agent.”

Navid continued again. “We’ve documented plenty of incidences of the Oni Agent infecting other animals. From dogs to fish, we’ve proven time and time again the Oni Agent doesn’t discriminate.”

“But plants?” Thornfield asked, still in disbelief. “Dom, can I trust these results?”

“I wouldn’t be having this call with you if you couldn’t,” Dom replied.

“I’d like to share all your research with our own teams. Send me everything you have when we’re done with this call.”

“We can do that.”

“Can you tell me whether this blight was engineered?”

Navid spoke again. “It is possible that it’s natural. But we don’t think it’s likely.”

“There are diseases from plants that infect humans and animals, though. Is it in the realm of possibility?”

“If I may,” Shelton said.

Dom motioned for him to continue.

The doctor sounded nervous when he spoke, almost as if intimidated by speaking to Thornfield. “You’re correct that there are plant diseases like tobacco mosaic virus that can infect both plants and animals. There are, however, no known cases of a major human disease infecting plant populations. The odds are infinitesimally small.”

“You’re positive?”

“I searched the research literature. There are just too many incompatibilities between human and plant pathogens. No overlap of microbial communities within humans and plants. Very few disease vectors, like insects that feed on both humans and plants to transmit pathogens. The microenvironment in a human body is worlds different than that of a plant’s, from molecular composition to temperature. Most human pathogens also have high specificity to infect human cells and tissues. Those same pathogens—bacteria, fungi, and parasites—are highly adapted for mammalian environments. They simply can’t bind or infiltrate plant cells.”

“Plenty of circumstantial evidence, then,” Thornfield said. “But is that enough? Do you have any evidence of genetic tampering?”

Navid answered this time. “We’re still probing the genetic data we’ve pulled from the samples. If we can find an obvious variation in the genetic patterns, maybe some kind of traceable tandem repeats, that signify genetic insertion or removal, maybe. But since we have no idea where a target modification site might be, it’s going to be difficult to identify whether this is a de novo mutation or an edit.”

“English?” Thornfield asked.

“It’s going to be really damn hard to determine if the genetic mutation that led to the Oni Agent jumping into plants was intentional or not,” Meredith said. “Maybe impossible. Looking at the bullet, the Oni Agent blight, in this case isn’t helpful. What we would really need is a smoking gun. A laboratory that developed the procedure. Evidence somewhere that someone was working on this before it got out into the fields.”

Dom nodded. “Without that, the best we can get you is circumstantial evidence.”

“I get it. High likelihood that someone did create this from the Oni Agent. But who? That would take some tremendous resources, wouldn’t it?”

“It wouldn’t be easy, that’s for sure,” Navid said. “But if someone was a remotely competent researcher and had access to a standard pharma or even a university biology lab, they could pull this off.”

“I see,” Thornfield said. “Do you have any suspects?”

“We were hoping you might,” Meredith said. “Because again, the best evidence we have is circumstantial. We believe the Children of Kusanagi organized the attack when we were gathering samples. We also know they harassed our ship. It’s possible the attack when we were harvesting samples was unrelated to the blight, but—”

“But again, it’s the best evidence you have,” Thornfield said. “I understand. Working in intel, sometimes you have to make leaps in the dark. I know I promised you that workup on the Children. I’m afraid I don’t have much that’s particularly elucidating. I’ll send over the full report, but what I can tell you is that their numbers are far larger than we’d initially thought. They’ve spread throughout the United States, though they are particularly concentrated around the East Coast.”

“Do you have any evidence to suggest they’re connected to the blight?” Dom asked.

“Nothing concrete on our end either. But they’ve apparently attracted followers from all walks of life. It wouldn’t be farfetched to believe they had recruited a few biotechnology-competent cultists.”

Dom couldn’t help but think of all the technological horrors he’d seen over the past ten years. From gargantuan Skulls to Hybrids, when the wrong people had control of powerful bioengineering capabilities, the nightmarish possibilities were endless. “I believe it,” he said. “At this point, I would recommend we treat the Children of Kusanagi as a potential terrorist organization.”

“Any gut feeling on how likely it is the Children are the ones that are responsible for creating the blight?” Thornfield asked. “I would hate to waste our resources on the wrong subjects, if there are others out there getting away with full-scale slaughter like this.”

Meredith leaned back in her chair. “It’s possible the Children attacked us in Vermont simply because they were trying to prevent anyone from stopping the blight, whether they engineered it or not. Encouraging this type of destruction aligns with their beliefs.”

“I can’t help but worry you’re right,” Thornfield said. “I want you to continue your investigations as you’ve been doing. We’ll treat the Children as a hostile entity. But I don’t want you all to let any stone go unturned. Examine every possibility.”

“That’s what we do,” Dom said.

“Of course, finding out who is responsible for the blight is one thing. Finding a way to fix it is another. The data you provided our teams will be useful. We’ll see if we can develop any remedies of our own. But your team has far more experience with fighting the Oni Agent than anyone in our labs.”

Dom couldn’t help but think of Lauren again. She’d spearheaded almost every project they’d been involved in to fight the Oni Agent and its variants. Yeah. He was definitely going to need to call in a big favor.

“Is it within the realm of possibilities that you all can develop something to stop the blight?”

“It’s certainly possible,” Navid said. “Whether we can develop something that can save this year’s crops is an entirely different question.”

Thornfield was quiet for a few seconds. “I’m not sure the United States has the luxury to call this year’s harvest a write-off. If so, we’re looking at a lot of hungry mouths in this country.”

Thornfield took a breath, then continued. “People are joining the Children of Kusanagi and cults like that because they think it’ll give them the answers to why they’re suffering. They think the group offers some kind of salvation. And if you think the attacks against you all are a harbinger of things to come, imagine what will happen when there are even more people dying to join the Children because they have no other hope. Nowhere else to turn to for answers. We cannot let that happen.”

On that foreboding note, they ended the call with Thornfield. They had no more answers than when they’d begun, but the shadow of the looming tidal wave of disaster was larger than ever. Dom could already feel how easily the fragile remnants of society might be washed away come fall.

“Meredith, can you get Lauren on the horn?” he asked.

Meredith gave a single nod as she tapped in the number to Lauren’s satellite phone. It only took a couple of rings before Lauren answered.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” she asked.

“We’ve got a big favor to ask,” Meredith answered.

“Unless we’re talking about the end of the world, I’m not sure I can make any promises.”

“Does the complete collapse of the United States’ food supplies count as world-ending to you?” Dom asked.

“It’s pretty close. You sure I can help?”

Dom signaled to Navid.

“Lauren,” Navid said, “good to hear from you again. Wish it were in better circumstances.” He took a deep breath. “But I’ve never met anyone with a more appropriate CV than yours right now. We’re talking about a modified, engineered variant of the Oni Agent. This time, it’s infecting crops.”

There was silence over the line. Dom feared she was going to tell them she couldn’t do it. That it was beyond her expertise. From the look in Navid’s eyes, the bags of exhaustion weighing them down, Dom could see the scientist harbored the same fear.

“Lauren, are you still there?” Dom asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll get my things. Glenn will be coming too.”

An immense cooling wave of relief washed through Dom. Though he knew the worst was yet to come in the battle against the Oni Agent blight, at least he knew he could count on another couple of powerful allies. Crew members who had more than earned their spots in the Hunters’ numbers.

“We’ll send Frank to pick you up,” Dom said. “Lauren, I know we’re asking a lot. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “Wait until you see if this is something we can even fix.”

-32-

Miguel stood on the forward section of the top deck with Rachel and Rory. The two younger Hunters gazed out over the waters and the shipyard with him. Watched for any sign of suspicious activity. Even at night, the shipyard didn’t sleep. Cranes unloaded shipping containers. Dockhands moved goods to and from ships and boats. Trucks drove off into the night, transporting goods as they began journeys across the region and country.

Rachel put a boot up on the gunwale, leaning over her knee as she surveyed the pier. “I used to think we could rely on port security. Then they let fricking teenagers throw Molotov cocktails at our ship.”

“Now suddenly we have to spend all our time rotating guard duty,” Rory said. “Man, I liked it back when we could sleep.”

“Hey, I’ll take guard duty on the ship over guard duty in Skull-infested territory.”

Rory laughed. “You got that right. Rachel, you remember all that time we spent in Virginia and Maryland, in the woods, just trying to find a place to sleep where some monster didn’t want to murder us?”

Rachel sighed. “I’ve never forgotten. A bunk on a ship has never felt so good since.”

“No kidding,” Miguel said. “Small price to pay to have warm meals and metal walls around us.”

“Definitely feels safer in the Bethany than some tent in the woods,” Rory said. Then he cocked an eyebrow. “Miguel, did that girl Dom and Meredith caught ever say anything about why she attacked us?”

“Honestly? She just got swept up in the Children of Kusanagi. I don’t think she was considering anything beyond making some edgy statement.”

“Dumb teenagers,” Rachel said.

Miguel laughed.

“What?” Rachel asked.

“When you joined the Hunters, you were barely out of your teens yourself. Now you’re going to be screaming at people to get off your lawn.”

“Excuse me,” Rachel said, “I will not.”

Rory gave her an accusatory stare.

Rachel gave an exasperated wave to the pier. “Nah, I’m going to be telling them to get off my damn dock!” Then she grew serious again. “I really can’t believe someone would be that dumb, though. They knew they couldn’t hurt us.”

“She did,” Miguel said. “The port security officials that interrogated her told us the whole thing was some kind of initiation.”

“Can’t believe they thought throwing glass bottles at a warship would be a good idea,” Rory said.

“Look, they’re joining a cult that worships the Oni Agent,” Miguel said. “No one claimed they were geniuses.”

Rachel laughed. “You know, you’re right that they might not be geniuses, but I got to say something. Before the Tide, I used to love watching documentaries on cults.”

Rory shot her a confused look. “Why?”

“Why do people like reading books about true crime so much?” She shrugged. “I don’t really know, but I did. So sue me. Anyway, I always thought it would take like a really dumb person to join a cult. Most of the time, though, the people interviewed in those documentaries weren’t really that dumb. A lot seemed pretty normal. Smart even. But they just want so desperately to believe in something that when some charismatic person starts telling them all the things they want to hear, their heart tells them that joining up is a good idea. I’m sure it’s the same with the Children. People joining them think with emotion, not logic.”

“I can buy that,” Rory said. “Probably why that Hybrid joined them, too, right?”

“How so?” Miguel asked.

“Look, how many Hybrids do you see working jobs around here?” He gestured to the shipyards. “They’re stronger than normal people. They’d be perfect for jobs like this. But most uninfected people are scared to hire them still. Hybrids live at the edge of society. I feel like that’s got to be ripe pickings for a cult.”

“Wish Dom had the opportunity to ask the Hybrid guy that attacked the ship,” Miguel said. “Because that’s scary as hell.”

“Scarier to have Hybrids join up with the Children instead of just uninfected people?” Rachel asked.

“I think so,” Miguel said. “Look, you remember the early days when we first encountered Hybrids.”

Rachel smiled. “We weren’t there with you guys back then, but we heard the stories.”

“Right,” Miguel said. “Thing is, the FGL developed the Hybrids not just as shock troopers for their armies but also as the commanding officers of the Skull world.”

“How do you mean?” Rory asked.

A couple gulls circling overhead squawked. Their sudden cries gave Miguel pause, and he searched the docks to make sure no one was sneaking up on them and spooking the birds.

He saw nothing out of the ordinary. “The FGL scientists engineered the Heikegani Agent to hijack a person’s… Shoot, what do you call the crap that makes pheromones?”

“Apocrine and sebaceous glands,” Rachel offered.

“How the hell do you know that?” Miguel asked.

“Someone has to pay attention to the white coats when they talk.”

“Well, glad you know what I’m talking about. Because the Heikegani Agent hijacks those glands along the… What’s the organ in the nose that detects pheromones?”

“Vomeronasal,” Rachel added.

“Yeah, that one. Usually, those pheromones change people’s moods and attraction to each other. The Heikegani Agent—at least the early and experimental versions—allowed Hybrids to kind of control Skulls. A Hybrid in touch with their own pheromones could influence Skulls’ aggression, influencing whether they attacked or not. Little things like that.”

“Mind control?” Rory asked.

“Not even close,” Miguel said. “You ever see those metal windup toys that just kind of chatter and bounce all over?”

“Yeah.”

“Kind of like that. Well-practiced Hybrids can turn the Skulls on or turn them off a bit. But only the most disciplined, the most trained, ones could really direct a Skull. At least, that’s the way O’Neil used to explain it to us.”

“He was the Hybrid Hunter,” Rachel said.

“Good guy,” Miguel said. “One of the best, really. We really could’ve used him out there in Vermont.”

“You think Vermont happened because the Children were using Hybrids?” Rachel asked.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Miguel replied. “Hybrids would definitely explain how they have corralled so many beasts into one place.”

The distant thrum of chopper blades sounded over the water. Miguel spotted a speck of light burgeoning against the black.

“Looks like Frank’s back with Lauren and Glenn,” Miguel started. “It’ll be good to have—”

He heard a splash. Louder than usual. Then another.

“Was that a big fish or something?” Rory asked.

“I don’t know,” Miguel said, “but just in case…”

They started toward the starboard side of the ship, where they’d heard it. But before they could even look over the gunwale, alarms blared to life. Meredith’s voice came over the intraship speaker system.

“Fire on the laboratory deck,” she replied. “All hands, fire-suppression protocols. I repeat, all hands, fire-suppression protocols immediately.”

-33-

Navid rushed into the smoke-filled laboratory. The hazy air irritated his eyes, making them water. His throat rasped with every caustic breath. He scooped up a lab coat, drenching it in water near the front of the lab, and held it over his mouth, breathing through it.

He didn’t know how the fire started. And he didn’t know why the automatic fire suppression systems hadn’t already staunched the flames.

But he did know that the samples and experiments in the lab were the most valuable things on this ship at that moment. Letting the lab go up in flames simply wasn’t an option. He took another breath through the water-soaked lab coat. His lungs simmered from the hot, caustic air.

He grabbed another lab coat and drenched it in the sink.

Flames flickered out of one of the incubators. They leapt over the lab benches toward the freezer where the rest of the stored samples were kept. It took him a second to see some chemical bottles had been broken, shattered across the lab bench.

God, he might be breathing in all kinds of caustic, cancer-causing chemicals, but he didn’t let that knowledge stop him.

“What’s going on?” a voice boomed behind him.

Sean burst into the lab and immediately devolved into a coughing fit.

“Put out the fire on the incubators,” Navid said and tossed him the drenched lab coat.

Coughing, Sean used the coat to drive away some of the smoke. Then he started beating at the incubators with it. Navid smothered the flames over the lab bench with the lab coat he’d been breathing through. The wet fabric vanquished some of the inferno, suffocating the hungry tongues of fire, but others leaped across lab notebooks and supplies near the genetic sequencer and the PCR. Both were vital tools to analyze the blight-causing Oni Agent.

Navid looked back under the sink where they kept the fire extinguisher. The smoke was growing increasingly thick, blocking his view. He fumbled around under the sink but couldn’t find the extinguisher. “What the hell?”

They’d always diligently taken care of the lab. Storing chemicals in safety cabinets. Ensuring everything was properly stowed and secured so even if the ship capsized, equipment didn’t go flying across the room and bottles didn’t just explode, mixing to form noxious fumes or flammable compounds.

And now the fire extinguisher was gone?

Something was very, very wrong.

But he didn’t have time to solve mysteries. Just fight fires. He heard boots pounding outside the lab. Other crew members would be responding to the emergency. But one look around the lab made him fear they were already too late.

He thought he heard other voices shouting for fire extinguishers. Were the ones in the passage missing too?

Navid rushed back to the lab coats, scooping more up. He turned on the sink. The water was so slow. So terribly slow, compared to what he needed. Every second he spent trying to soak these coats through so he could choke out another rash of flames was another second more valuable equipment, supplies, and samples were ruined.

He threw a couple more coats on the fires spreading across the benches. That seemed to take care of most of the chemical fires. But the conflagration had spread to cardboard boxes filled with supplies. Plastic containers of pipette tips and centrifuge tubes melted.

The irritation at the back of Navid’s throat only grew worse. He wanted to double over and cough until his throat was raw. He fought the urge, the immense discomfort.

Navid looked around the lab, helpless to stop the hungry flames. Sean was still beating at the fires around the incubators. It wouldn’t be enough. They needed more than just a few wet lab coats.

Then he turned toward the entrance to the lab. Maybe…

He ran to the emergency chemical shower. Normally the huge shower head was used to douse a person in water to wash dangerous chemicals off after a spill. The immense volume of water gushing out would undoubtedly damage many of the machines and equipment within the lab, but Navid had to make a snap decision. Right now, with this fire going, they risked the whole lab going up.

He yanked on the yellow triangle handle of the chemical shower as he aimed the shower head back toward some of the supplies being devoured by the hellfire.

Water hissed as it hit the fires. Steam poured off from the surfaces of lab benches and equipment. A few stubborn flames still burned toward the back of the lab. Navid did his best to spray down every persistent gout of fire he could.

More pounding footsteps sounded outside. Sadie came in first, followed by Andris. The two of them had fire extinguishers. They pulled the pins then squeezed the handles, spraying white foam over the flames, dousing every inch of the main portion of the lab that wasn’t already drenched until finally the last tongues of fire had been put out. Smoke and steam hung in the air.

“You all okay?” Sadie asked Navid.

Navid coughed but gave her a thumbs-up. Sean did the same.

“This might be helpful.” Sadie handed Navid a gas mask as she donned one of her own.

Taking a deep breath through the mask, Navid got a taste of metallic air, thankfully filtering out the smoke and chemical fumes.

Sean, however, didn’t stop coughing, even when given a mask.

“We should take you to the med bay,” Andris said and put a hand around Sean’s shoulder and helped him walk out.

Sadie donned a pair of nitrile gloves. “I take it we got to clean this up fast.”

“You got that right,” Navid said.

“How can I help?”

Navid ran through a mental triage of everything they’d been working on in the lab at the time along with where the most important data was being stored. He pointed at some of the computers. “We were running some experiments on those computers and machines to see if anything we developed to cure the Oni Agent would stop the blight. Get all that to Samantha and Chao immediately. They might be able to salvage it.”

“You got it.”

Sadie sloshed through the water and foam to the computers then started unplugging them. Navid went to the incubators first to see if any of the cell-culture experiments they were running would be salvageable. The rubber seals around the door were melted. He pulled the door open to see the cell culture dishes were warped and melted, all the liquid contents inside the dishes evaporated.

Nothing in there would be worth trying to save.

Any living samples of the blight and the experiments they were running to test methods to stop it had been ruined.

He turned back to the freezer and the cryogenic storage container. Black scorch marks covered the freezer. Its electric cords had been twisted and melted. So long as he kept the freezer closed, it could maintain decent temperatures until Chao or Samantha soldered a new power cord for it.

The cryogenic storage container seemed fine too. The big container held liquid nitrogen to keep samples at temperatures below -150 degrees Celsius. This type of cryopreservation offered the best way to store their scientific samples long-term. With the container intact, at least the samples would be saved.

But the mess around the lab would take a long time to clean up. Figuring out what equipment would be salvageable would be the next task.

This couldn’t have come at a worse time. Which was exactly why this had happened.

Navid pulled up one of the lab coats he’d used to choke out the fire. Underneath was a broken bottle of laboratory-grade isopropyl alcohol. Other broken bottles included ethanol and acetone. There was no way all these flammable solvents had coincidentally fallen and broken on the lab bench.

Sadie was working at gathering up computers to take to Samantha when Dom entered.

“You definitely want a gas mask,” Navid said before the captain could get too far. “There was a chemical spill too.”

Sadie handed him one of the extra gas masks she’d brought.

He nodded his thanks to her. “Is that what started the fire, Navid?”

“Yes and no,” Navid said, his shoes soaked in foam and water as he walked toward Dom. “This was no accident. Someone sabotaged the lab.”

-34-

Dom let the alarms keen.

There were only a handful of people who had regular access to the laboratory. Navid, Peter, Sean, Meredith, and him.

None of them had set this fire. And Dom couldn’t believe this was just a terrible, inconvenient accident. He knew Navid wouldn’t have claimed this was sabotage unless the evidence was there to prove it.

That left two terrible possibilities. Either someone had snuck aboard the ship—which Dom believed was damn near impossible with Miguel, Rachel, and Rory watching from the top deck—or it was someone from the crew.

Meredith dashed down the corridor toward him. “What’s going on now?”

“Lock down the ship. We need to find Shelton and Hooper immediately.”

Meredith didn’t ask any questions. She was smart enough to read between the lines, understanding everything Dom hadn’t explained.

He spoke over the comms as he ran toward the crews’ quarters. “All Hunters, be advised, apprehend Shelton and Hooper. Do not let them off this ship. I repeat, do not let Shelton and Hooper off this ship.”

A flurry of affirmatives came back.

Voices barked over the decks. Dom raced up the ladders toward the crew quarters and ran to Shelton’s cabin first, tearing open the door. The scientist wasn’t there. His laptop was still on, screen glowing on the desk built into the bulkhead. The guy hadn’t been away for very long; the laptop hadn’t yet gone to sleep.

Dom ran to Hooper’s cabin next. Before he reached it, he heard more pounding footsteps coming his way.

Jenna was racing toward him. “Glenn and Lauren just landed with Frank. No eyes on Shelton or Hooper yet.”

Farther down the passage, Andris was slamming open closet doors and hatches to other cabins. Dom signaled for Jenna to follow close behind him as they sought out Hooper’s cabin. He cranked open the hatch and swiveled inside, ready to tackle the laboratory technician.

Again, the room was empty.

A horrible flashback simmered through his mind. He’d lost his ship twice in the past. Once because the Hunters had been framed and the US military had launched a mission to confiscate the vessel. A second time because a group of former Russian special forces had assaulted the ship from a submarine, carving into the hull to infiltrate the ship. They had kidnapped Kara and Sadie—and the ship had been sunk not long after.

He couldn’t let a tragedy like that strike the group again. He powered through the passage with Jenna at his heels. They raced up the next set of ladders and toward the bridge. Chao and Samantha reported the electronics workshop was clear. Miguel, Rachel, and Rory hadn’t spotted anyone top deck.

Which meant there was one other part of the ship where his quarry might be.

“Loading bay,” Dom said. “Now.”

He and Jenna sprinted down the passage toward the loading bay. It was located just past the armory. In it, they stored the Zodiac rigid inflatable boats—or RIBs—commonly used by Navy SEALs. The ship’s small remotely operated vehicles were also stored there. Small crane-like contraptions—davits—could lower the boats from the Bethany’s loading bay and into the water lapping against her hull.

Dom burst into the loading bay with Jenna by his side. Red battle lights flooded the interior. Crates lined one bulkhead. One of the Zodiacs was tied down in place near the sternward portion of the bay. The other was already attached to a pair of davits, swinging precariously right outside the open door.

Sure enough, two figures were inside the Zodiacs. The crimson light reflected over their features. Both looked scared as Dom took out his pistol from his thigh holster, raising it toward them. Jenna mirrored his movements, setting into a dangerous stance that should’ve made any hostile freeze with fear.

Shelton raised one hand, his other arm still in a sling. “Don’t shoot us!”

“Step out of the boat!” Dom said.

“Hell no!” Hooper said.

“I don’t want to die!” Shelton said. “I swear, I won’t tell anyone what you’re doing!”

Dom took a few tentative steps toward the boat, never letting his gun stray. “Get the hell out of that boat.”

Jenna moved quietly and quickly to his side, swinging around to get another vantage on them, ensuring neither of the fleeing duo could escape easily. Shelton kept looking between Hooper and Dom like a deer about to bolt.

“Listen to me, and I won’t shoot,” Dom said.

Shelton put one foot on the gunwale of the Zodiac. He looked like he was about to leave. “Please, I swear, I didn’t know what you all were up to. I won’t tell anyone. Not Thornfield even. No one.”

Hooper hadn’t said a word yet. Just stood there.

“Hands up, Hooper,” Jenna said. “Come on, show them.”

Hooper hesitated.

Dom twisted his aim to the lab tech. “What the hell did you two do?”

“We did what had to be done,” Hooper said.

Shelton puffed out his chest. “If you’re going to kill us, just know what you’re doing is evil.”

Dom was taken aback, unsure how to respond for a second. “You destroyed the lab. You destroyed our work.”

“I know what you’re doing,” Shelton said. “Hooper told me. When I was out… You don’t want to fix the blight. You were the ones that started it. You’re trying to spread it. You’re pretending like you’re trying to fix it to delay Thornfield’s efforts. I get it. You think you’re trying to do the right thing. You think—”

“Not this shit again,” Jenna said.

“You told him this, Hooper?” Dom asked.

Hooper said nothing.

Shelton looked between Dom and Jenna and then Hooper. Confusion riddled the older scientist’s features, the red light deepening the wrinkles across his scrunched brow.

Shelton wasn’t the enemy. Shelton had been duped.

Hooper still said nothing. Admitted to nothing. And his hands hadn’t moved from his pockets. Red flag.

“Shelton, get off that boat and get in the loading bay,” Dom said. “Hooper lied to you. We’re not the enemy. He is.”

“No,” Shelton said. “No. No. No.”

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Jenna asked, her pistol aimed at Hooper’s chest. “One of the Children.”

Hooper just kept playing the quiet game.

Right as Shelton finally got the picture and started to take a step off the Zodiac, Hooper wrapped an arm around Shelton’s neck with one hand. With his other hand, he took a knife from his pocket and pointed the blade at Shelton’s neck. It bit into the soft flesh there, drawing a rivulet of blood.

“You two are going to let us go,” Hooper said. “Lower your weapons.”

Dom stared at Shelton and Hooper. The older scientist had already been shot. And now, as he still recovered, he was about to be cut open like a butchered pig. His lips trembled, his fingers shaking. Even his eyes seemed to quiver as if pleading silently with Dom to save his life.

“No, Hooper,” Dom said. “You put the knife down. Or we’ll put it down for you.”

Hooper was a plant. A saboteur. If he had anything to do with the Children, Dom wasn’t sure the guy would even respond to threats of death.

Most likely, right now, he wanted to steal away Shelton. Maybe force the guy to work for the Children. Whether the cult was responsible for the blight or not, they would certainly benefit by having a scientist like Shelton in their possession. They could force him to continue improving the blight, to engineer it further to devastate more of America’s food supplies. Or they could use him to develop tools that might stop any cures Dom or Thornfield’s teams developed.

“You want Shelton,” Dom said to Hooper. It wasn’t a question.

Hooper answered anyway. “You can kill us both—or you can let us both go, sparing our lives. Your choice. His life is in your hands.”

“Fine,” Dom said, lowering his pistol. “Go. Get the hell out of here.”

Jenna shot Dom a glance. But she lowered her weapon all the same, taking her cue from him.

Hooper activated the winch on the davit. The Zodiac started to lower, the wind taking it, making it bounce slightly against the hull. That was when Dom took his chance.

As Hooper tried to steady the boat, he couldn’t keep his knife pointed at Shelton any longer. Dom ran at the boat before it lowered out of sight. He dove toward Hooper, slamming hard against the guy’s chest. Shelton was knocked backward against the bottom of the Zodiac. He let out a yelp of pain.

“Here!” Jenna yelled, having run to the edge of the open bay. She reached down toward Shelton even as the boat continued lowering to the water. He stuck his hand toward her, and she yanked him up, dragging him to the deck as he groaned in pain.

Dom leveled back a fist and hammered Hooper hard in the face. With his other hand, he yanked the winch’s control lever and stopped the Zodiac from going lower. They dangled, suspended halfway between the open loading bay and the water lapping at the ship’s hull below.

Hooper lashed out blindly with the knife. Dom blocked the guy’s blows, catching Hooper’s wrist and squeezing until the tech’s fingers spasmed. The blade fell into the murk below, splashing into the water.

“Give up!” Dom shouted.

“Never!” the tech responded.

Then Hooper struck his leg up, right into Dom’s groin. It was a cheap shot. But effective. Dom clenched his jaw as pain washed up through his belly, a wave of nausea strangling his insides. Hooper cranked his wrist from Dom’s grip and rolled over the side of the Zodiac.

He disappeared into the inky blackness with a splash.

“No you don’t, you little bastard.”

Dom swallowed his pain and dove right in after him. The cold water rushed around his face. He kicked hard for the spot where he’d seen Hooper disappear, twisting his head underwater, searching through the mess of bubbles to find his target.

There.

Hooper was trying to swim underwater, pulling himself through the depths to get away.

But this was Dom’s territory. You didn’t spend a lifetime at sea just to watch it from the deck.

He wouldn’t let his home-team advantage go to waste. Especially not against someone who’d insulted him so deeply as to set a fire in his ship then kick him in the balls on the way out. That just wasn’t how you treated your host.

Adrenaline and anger fueled Dom. His legs pumped steadily, kicking him toward Hooper, and he snatched the asshole’s ankle. Hooper tried to kick and thrash himself free, but Dom never let go.

Instead, he dragged Hooper backward.

He kicked hard, pulling the other man back toward the ship. The tech struggled and bucked against Dom’s strength. But it was a battle he was rapidly losing.

Dom almost had Hooper back to where they’d dropped into the water.

“Lower the boat!” Dom yelled up at Jenna.

The Zodiac started to descend again. If he could just secure Hooper, then he could drag the guy back into the boat and apprehend him on the ship.

But Hooper had other plans. A scalpel suddenly slashed at Dom’s wrist. One that had been taken from the lab. Sharp and fresh. The blade caught Dom’s arm underwater. Pain scorched up through the cut.

Hooper struck out at Dom again, slicing into Dom’s forearm. Salt stung the wound, but Dom didn’t let go.

“You’re coming back with me,” Dom said, tightening his grip, determined not to let this brat win.

Dom snagged Hooper’s wrist when the guy went in for another attack. Now he had to adjust both his hands around Hooper’s arm, letting the guy’s legs go. They both kicked wildly in the water, Dom trying to drag the tech toward the Zodiac, the tech trying to kick himself free and escape into the darkness.

This conflict was going to go poorly if the tech kept using that scalpel. All it took was one wrong slice, and Dom would bleed out into the sea. He needed a weapon of his own. He needed—

Dom couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Floating nearby was a fire extinguisher. Just like the ones that they kept onboard the ship. Which started to actually make sense. This little bastard had thrown them over before setting fire to the lab.

In one fluid motion, he scooped up the small fire extinguisher with one hand and slammed it against the side of Hooper’s head. The heavy thud of metal against bone resonated over the undulating water.

Hooper’s fingers went slack, the scalpel dropping. His eyes rolled back, and his jaw dropped open. Unconscious. Finally.

Dom shoved the guy into the RIB then pulled himself over the gunwale. He looked down at the tech, keeping one knee on Hooper’s chest in case he came to sooner than expected.

“Haul us up!” Dom shouted to Jenna. Then something caught his eye as the glow of the red battle lights illuminated Hooper’s face.

Dom pushed up the tech’s sleeve over his bicep.

Sure enough, there was a black tattoo there. Simple but recognizable. A black sword.

Could this be?

They’d had one of the Children of Kusanagi aboard their ship this whole time.

Dom shivered. Not just from the wind brushing over his drenched clothes.

-35-

The first night at Devon’s place, Kara passed out as soon as their little band had all stopped talking. Exhaustion from the battle and the aftereffects of adrenaline had left her eyelids feeling like they were being dragged down by a twenty-ton weight. Sleep had come frighteningly easily.

The second night was harder. She’d spent the day helping the Hybrids keep watch over the town to ensure there was no retaliatory attack by the Children of Kusanagi. Devon had even sent scouts closer to Little Orleans to watch for any offensive operation.

The Children had disappeared. Their settlement had been dismantled. No more tents. Not so much as a shred of trash left behind. Even the poles where they’d burned the three bodies had been dismantled. Little Orleans was once again a ghost town. The only evidence anyone had been there recently were the vehicles Caleb had torched in their rescue attempt.

Rosie, Hudson, and Maureen spent much of the day huddled in Devon and Sheila’s living room. Still shell-shocked by all that had happened. It had taken a lot of convincing that it was safe for them to come outside. No one from the Children was going to swoop in and take them away.

Now that the sun had set once again, Kara found herself staring up at the ceiling. Caleb snored on the floor next to the fireplace. The others all slept in nests of blankets and pillows around the room.

With sleep seeming more and more of an impossibility, Kara crept to the front door. She figured she might as well admire the stars. Identifying the constellations had always been a nice way to distract herself from the more frightening memories that wormed their way into her conscience nowadays. She especially couldn’t stand trying to sleep in the living room anyway. The ashy scent of the fireplace reminded her too much of the burning bodies in Little Orleans. She had no doubt the odor from that day would cling to her memory for years to come.

Quietly as she could, she shut the front door behind her and sat on a step leading off from the porch. She craned her neck up at the sky.

Ursa Major was easy to spot, one of the most recognizable patterns. Same with its companion, Ursa Minor. Hercules was prominent in the cloudless sky, too, despite the relatively full moon. It was easy to find, marked by Vega, one of the brightest stars in the night. Lyra formed a small triangle west of Hercules. And then there was Cygnus, the swan flying through the Milky Way, graceful and brilliant.

All these stars twinkling in the darkness often brought her a certain peace she just couldn’t find in the day. It was a reminder that Earth was so small in the scheme of the enormous universe. Every problem she faced, no matter how consequential to her, was nothing to the galaxy around her. If life existed, if there were other peoples on planets orbiting those distant stars, they would have no idea that someone had created bioweapons to wipe their own species off this fragile planet. Would never know the everyday struggle of humans trying to survive their ravaged world.

Would these other peoples, if they existed, develop weapons that would kill their own species like that? Or would they have evolved past the squabbles between their own tribes? Would they find a way to stop killing each other and turn to the stars and exploration?

Ah, yeah, she was tired. Her imagination wandered like that when she was running low on energy.

Still, she knew if she tried to go back inside, sleep would continue to evade her.

The door creaked behind her. She turned to see Rosie, the young woman rubbing her eyes.

“Can I join you?” Rosie asked.

Kara scooted over on the porch step, making room.

The woman sat beside Kara with a heavy sigh. “Can’t sleep either.”

“Little hard right now.”

“Caleb’s snoring doesn’t help, does it?”

Kara let out a soft laugh. “It’s not quite the white noise of a still forest.”

They both sat in silence for a few minutes. Kara didn’t mind. She could take or leave the company of another person. If that person happened to respectfully sit and stare at the stars with her, that would be okay too.

Eventually, though, Rosie sighed again. It was that kind of thoughtful sigh that begged another person to ask “Something on your mind?” or “Is everything all right?”

Kara wasn’t going to get the solitude and quiet she was hoping for at this point. She might as well bite. “What’s keeping you up?”

“Everything.”

“Want to talk about it?” Please say no.

Rosie didn’t. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

It wasn’t that Kara didn’t like talking. She would. But she was still doing her best to process all the insanity she’d faced over the last couple days. While she’d encountered countless bad people over the years and tangled with her fair share of bloodthirsty Skulls, the Children of Kusanagi stuck out to her. There was something even more frightening about them.

Kara also found that when Rosie talked about her sister, Brenna, she couldn’t help thinking of Sadie, still on the Bethany, still working for their father. She felt bad about abandoning Sadie—and maybe that was it. Maybe that was the real reason she had a hard time listening to Rosie. Because then she had to deal with her own guilt.

Shoot. She wasn’t afraid of Skulls. Why should she be afraid of her own emotions?

“Yeah, go ahead,” she said finally.

“Look, I’ve known Caleb for just a few months. I’m not going to pretend we were head over heels for each other or anything. I mean… You ever been in a relationship?”

“Of course.” It had been a while, but she had. After the Tide, over the first several years when she was working on the Bethany, she’d grown close to Navid. He’d lost his girlfriend during the initial outbreak, so he wasn’t in a hurry to jump into a relationship. But a spark had taken life between them, and those embers had warmed slowly.

By the time Navid and Kara realized their relationship might become something more than just a bond formed and forged due to apocalyptic circumstances, that they might have a real shot at a lasting partnership, she’d also realized she had to strike out on her own. Her talks with her father had made it clear. They were never going to see eye to eye about how she should live her life—she had to make a break for it.

Navid, like her, had been bound to duty. But his duty was different. While she found exhilaration and purpose in the endless expanse of post-Tide America, he pursued his own adventures on the microscopic level, chasing down scientific breakthroughs in the laboratory. They had no choice but to go their own way.

But she wasn’t about to tell this stranger all of that.

Her two-word answer would have to suffice.

“I think Caleb felt more seriously about our relationship than I did,” she said. “I feel bad about that. It was easier for me to leave to join the Children. I never expected him to come after me.”

“He’s a good man,” Kara said. “I think he’d go after just about anyone he knew who might be in danger.” Kara wasn’t just saying that. After spending a couple days with Caleb, she believed it was true.

Rosie gave Kara a moonlit smile. “I know. Trust me, you’re preaching to the choir. I get why he came after me. Why did you?”

Kara inhaled deeply. The expansion of her ribs tugged at the fresh stitches, and she felt a slight discomfort from the scabbing tissue. “It was a job.”

“What was a job? Clearing out the Children’s camp?”

“No,” Kara said. “Tressler and the Cumberland townspeople put out some fliers. You, Hudson, and Maureen were some of the people they were looking for. I went searching.”

“He didn’t know we joined up with the Children?”

“Far as I know, he didn’t.”

“I always thought he was a pain in my ass when I was getting suckered into believing all that crap about the Children,” she said. “Now I realize he’s actually a decent guy. A lot of the people in town are. It’s just…”

“Too many people leaning toward the Children’s side of things?”

“One is too many,” Rosie said. “I really can’t go back there. None of us can. If we do, if someone sees us, they’ll come after us.”

“The Children will?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell me why?” Kara asked. “I know they’re intense about their beliefs. But it seems pretty crazy that a cult would burn you guys alive just because you wanted to leave.”

Rosie toed the dirt, her eyes firmly entranced by the soil. “You didn’t really answer my question. Why did you come after us? I doubt the money Tressler offered was worth risking your life.”

“I need to eat too.”

“Seriously.”

“I couldn’t just walk away from you three. I couldn’t live with myself knowing if I did that, I’d be leaving you three to burn at the stake like we were in some 1600s witch trial. No way.”

“You’re telling the truth.”

Kara cocked an eyebrow. “Of course I am.”

Rosie smiled. “Maybe I’m not the best judge of character. Some idiots convinced me to join a cult, after all. Caleb trusts you, though. That’s got to mean something.”

“Where are you going with all this?”

“You said you were a Hunter. We’ve all heard the stories of what they did. I mean, what you all did. I guess I want to believe the good stuff. I have a habit of being overly optimistic about people who I think are trying to do some good.” She hung her head. “Which again, is probably why I joined the Children in the first place.”

Kara put a hand on the woman’s shoulder and gave what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “Stop being so hard on yourself. Think of how many others joined and are too afraid or too unwilling to admit they need to get out. Think of all the others who still believe that garbage. You did a hard thing, trying to leave.”

Rosie leaned back on the porch step, splaying her hands out behind her, using her arms to prop herself up. “I still screwed up. If I hadn’t left, you all wouldn’t have come after me. You and Caleb wouldn’t have risked your lives like that.”

“Really, you—”

“You don’t need to keep comforting me like I’m a child. I know my mama would’ve told me I was a fool to run off with the Children. You can save your breath.”

“All right. I’m getting the sense you have something else on your mind, then. That why you wanted to come out and talk to me?”

“You got the right sense. I got one more question first. Why’d you leave the Hunters?”

Kara wanted to tell Rosie it wasn’t her business. But the sincerity in Rosie’s tone, the outright candidness of it all had her second-guessing her initial instinct. “My dad wanted to protect my sister and me,” she said. “I think he was torn time and time again, trying to help stop the Oni Agent and trying to protect us.”

“Hard choice, trying to protect your family or the world.”

At first, Kara thought Rosie was being sarcastic. But the wet sheen over Rosie’s eyes told her the woman was being anything but.

“I don’t envy him,” Kara said, “but I do think, even after I’d trained for years under him and the other Hunters, even when I knew I could handle myself, he still struggled with his need to keep me from harm. I didn’t want to sit aboard his ship safe and sound when I knew that I could go out and do something good with everything he taught me.”

“Like come save a few people who joined a cult.”

“Yeah. Like that.”

“You think you made the right decision?”

Kara hesitated. “I made the right decision for myself at the time. If I hadn’t, you might not be alive, right?”

“What’s your dad think?”

Kara laughed. “What do you think?”

Rosie grinned back at her. “Can’t escape protective parents, no matter how old you are.” Her shoulders slumped forward. “What I wouldn’t give to have mine back… At least I still got Brenna.”

“What are you going to do about her? She’s still in Cumberland, and I’m sure she’s worried about you.”

“That’s what’s been keeping me up,” Rosie said. “The Children didn’t want to kill me just because I was going to leave. They wanted to make an example of us. They didn’t want anyone else who knew what we did to just walk away from the cult.”

“Why? What do you know?”

“I’m risking my life again telling you. I thought about sneaking away, just getting my sister from Cumberland and disappearing. I thought about that a lot today, actually.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t. Just like you said. I couldn’t live with myself. I got the choice to either protect my sister and myself or maybe do some good. I want to do both. And… since you’re practically a Hunter, I figured maybe you could help me with that.”

“It depends. What exactly do you know?”

“You saw the guy with the sword in Little Orleans, right?” Rosie asked. “His name’s Colorado Singer. He’s leading the Children. So many people worship the ground he walks on. Hybrids, normal people. All of them do whatever he says. His words are like drugs.” Her voice shook. “He’s convinced people to dress up like Skulls. I think they even attack places, pretending to be Hybrids and Skulls at night or something.”

“Really?”

Rosie looked up at the stars for a second. “Yeah. A couple of their warriors made it look like my place had been ransacked by Hybrids.”

“Ah, yeah,” Kara said. “I was told about the scratch marks at your place.”

“All set up,” Rosie said. “It was part of Colorado’s plan.”

“Colorado, huh? If we track this guy down, you think we can take away some of the Children’s power?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know where he might’ve gone?”

“He does a lot of traveling between different cells of the Children,” Rosie said. “But before I tried to escape, I saw what they were trying to do. I saw what they were doing. I saw the Children’s headquarters. That’s when I realized I was with the wrong people. It’s why I wanted to leave.”

“What were they doing, Rosie?”

She shuddered, her eyes taking on a thousand-yard stare. Then she shook out of her waking nightmare. “You have a car? Or a horse?”

“A horse. Back in Cumberland.”

“Even better. Quieter than a car. Because you’ll need quiet.” Then she reached under her jacket and drew out a small souvenir magnet and handed it to Kara.

Kara rotated it in her hands. It was a cheesy trinket with discolored palm trees on a beach. Above the trees were rainbow-colored words that said, “I’ve been to Hell” with “Cayman Islands” at the bottom of the picture.

“It’s from a trip Brenna and I took with our parents way before the Tide. We always thought it was funny even if it was corny. Plus, it was a reminder of better times. When I left for the Children, I took it. Just a small memory of my sister, since I didn’t know when I’d see her again.”

“What do you want me to do with it?” Kara asked.

“I want you to tell Tressler I was dead. Then get your horse and give this to my sister.”

“You want her to think you’re dead?”

Rosie shook her head. “Tell her, ‘I went to Hell, and I loved it.’ When we were little, we thought it was hilarious. We just kept repeating that stupid phrase. It annoyed the crap out of our parents. She’ll know you talked to me if you say that. Then tell her to come with you. Bring her back here.”

“Then?”

“If Devon lets Brenna stay here with Hudson and Maureen, I’ll take you and Caleb to where the Children are planning to destroy America.”

-36-

Water dripped off Miguel’s clothes as he sauntered into the electronics workshop. Meredith, Chao, and Samantha were already in there. Rachel and Rory were guarding the ship’s upper decks. Jenna was helping Sadie and Navid clean up the lab with a smattering of other engineers and crew members. Dom stood at the front of the workshop.

Miguel had retrieved three fire extinguishers from the water and dropped them near the workshop’s hatch.

“You too?” Samantha asked, rolling her eyes.

“Me, too, what?”

“You and the captain both come in here dripping wet. You know we’ve got sensitive electronics in here.”

Miguel held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m staying right here! I’m not going to touch your computers.”

“Better not,” Samantha said. “We already lost too many tonight.”

“And that’s why I retrieved those fire extinguishers,” Miguel said. “Figured if anyone else wants to start a fire, this time we can put it out a little faster before Hooper decides to throw them overboard again. Where is that asshole anyway?”

“In the med bay,” Dom said.

“You’re kidding me. We’re taking care of him?”

“I don’t want him to die before we can talk to him,” Dom said.

“You bashed him in the head with a fire extinguisher. He might kick it anyway, Chief.”

“He did kick Dom in the balls,” Meredith added helpfully.

“Ouch,” Miguel said. “You going to recover from that, Chief?”

“Thankfully, I’m done making kids,” Dom said. “But I don’t think anyone here wants to talk about my family jewels.”

Miguel raised his hand.

“Anyone besides you,” Dom clarified.

A knock sounded at the hatch. A shorter woman with deep-brown hair and matching eyes poked her head in, her elfin features containing a few more wrinkles than last time Miguel saw her.

“Lauren!” Meredith said. “Glad to see you.”

“Seems like we came at a bad time,” Lauren said, entering the workshop.

Behind her came ex–Green Beret Glenn Walsh, taking up the whole hatchway. The man was a physiological contrast to Lauren in just about every way. His bulky muscles pressed up against his dark skin as he towered over her. The crew exchanged greetings, shaking hands and hugging.

“Things really went to crap since we’ve been gone, didn’t they?” Glenn asked in his rumbling, baritone voice.

“We’ve been better,” Dom said. “Look, I don’t know how much Frank told you.”

“He pretty much gave us a play-by-play while he kept us on the chopper,” Lauren said. “We know you caught the traitor who burned the lab and he’s strapped down in the med bay. And you’ve got Sean in there recovering from smoke inhalation and chemical fumes as well. Keeping Peter employed and busy, as usual.”

“Frank briefed us on everything you all have been dealing with over the past couple days too,” Glenn said. “Unless he fed us a bunch of BS, I’d say we’re up-to-date.”

“Feeding people BS isn’t out of character for Frank,” Meredith said, “but I have a feeling even he wouldn’t do that this time.”

“Unless you guys have any questions,” Dom said, “we’re just about to see what data Samantha was able to recover.”

Lauren gestured for them to continue. “Go right ahead.”

“Navid was in the middle of running a series of multiplex assays for some multifactorial chemical testing against the Oni Agent blight,” Meredith said. “Lauren, does that makes sense to you?”

“It does.”

Meredith smiled. “I’m happy to hear it because I had no idea what he was talking about.”

Samantha gestured toward her computer. “Lauren, this stuff might as well be French. I don’t understand a lick of it.”

“I’ll take a look.”

She dropped her bags near the entrance hatch and joined Samantha’s side. They began scouring the data on the computer. The others gathered around, except for Glenn and Miguel. Neither of them would be very useful when it came to data analysis, so they stayed out of the way.

“How’s the kid?” Miguel asked Glenn, sidling up to him.

“She’s with Lauren’s mom. Six. Can you believe it?”

“Not at all. She’s happy?”

“Happy as any six-year-old. Growing up after the Tide, she doesn’t have a clue what the world was like before. She’s just content to dig through the dirt looking for worms, chase squirrels, and read books like any other kid.”

“Read books like any other kid?” Miguel gave Glenn a playful elbow to the rib. “I’m not sure that’s like every other kid, but she takes after her dad, huh?”

Glenn gave him a proud smile. “Life is all right.” Then his expression grew more serious. “Or at least it was all right. We couldn’t believe what was going on when Dom and Meredith called.”

“Yeah. Not great.”

“Not at all.”

“Let me ask you something,” Miguel said.

“Whether I let you or not, you’re going to.”

Miguel smirked. “You know me. You ever worry about your daughter growing up in all this?”

“It’s a question Lauren and I asked ourselves before we had Jackie,” he said. “But there’s this quote by Desmond Tutu that I like. ‘Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.’ There isn’t any greater light than my daughter’s smile. It gives me inspiration to make tomorrow better for her.”

“That’s why you showed up here.”

“I couldn’t say no,” Glenn said, “not when I know that my choices today impact her tomorrow. For better or worse.”

“For better or worse.” Before he could ask Glenn any more questions, Lauren stood from the desk. Miguel studied her face, hoping for a clue about how the data recovery had gone. “Oh, shit,” he muttered. “That bad?”

Lauren pulled her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know if Navid’s going to recover any more data, but everything here is pretty conclusive. Nothing in our arsenal is an easy fix. Typical antibiotics, our anti–Oni Agent compounds, nothing stops the blight. The plants’ and blight’s biology are just too different from humans for the same chemical compounds to function appropriately. You all said you had a botanist aboard?”

“He’s in the med bay too,” Meredith said. “His injuries from a previous mission were exacerbated thanks to Hooper. Guy split some stitches. Peter’s afraid he might get an infection.”

“I see.” Lauren licked her lips.

“Can he help you?” Miguel asked.

Lauren looked back down the computer screen as if it held the answer to his question. “I certainly hope so. Because otherwise, this blight looks tougher to kill than the original Oni Agent.”

“Killing the old Oni Agent was like wrestling naked with a Skull and hoping you came out without a scratch,” Miguel said. “You’re saying coming up with a cure to the blight’s going to be harder?”

Lauren’s eyes never left the screen. “With fewer resources and a damaged lab, that’s exactly right.”

Samantha spoke up. “At least the Children of Kusanagi won’t be anticipating our moves anymore.” She held up a small circuit board that looked like it had come from the innards of a cell phone. “We found this when we searched Hooper’s room. It was a hidden radio-communication device in his laptop.”

“I thought you all scoured his equipment when he brought it on board?” Dom asked.

“We did. Full software sweep. But the sneaky bastard had it behind the screen of his laptop. It didn’t actually connect to his computer, so the sweep didn’t show anything,” Samantha said. “Ingenious, really.”

“Take notes for when you want to infiltrate an enemy ship,” Dom said dryly.

“Oh, you bet we are. Anyway, when he wanted to use it, he’d actually have to separate his screen from his laptop, pull this thing out, and send a text message before stowing it away again. Damn near impossible to detect since it was hidden like that.”

“How did a cultist get that kind of tech?” Meredith asked.

“The tech is relatively simple if you know what you’re doing,” Chao said. “But I’m surprised Hooper was smart enough to pull that off.”

Meredith held up a finger. “Think about it. That guy’s an excellent actor. Might’ve had a chip on his shoulder about us, but what do you bet he also helped orchestrate the attack on Evergreen?”

Dom shook his head. “Bioengineering blights. Spy technology. Inside jobs. The Children might have started out as a cult, but they’re rapidly becoming something much worse.”

“Or someone else is behind them,” Meredith said, “like all the worst terrorist organizations. They might just be pawns.”

“I’m going to have a lot of questions for Hooper if he wakes up,” Dom said. “In the meantime, I want everyone who isn’t working on our scientific operations to focus on digging up everything we can on the Children. Meredith, Samantha, Chao, work your networks and see if there’s any digital trails we can follow. I’m not going to sit here and wait for Thornfield to drop a lead on our desk. We’re going to find one ourselves.”

-37-

It took over half a week for Kara to retrieve Dancer, get Brenna to the Hybrid village, and head back out into the field with Caleb and Rosie. She’d brought Tressler back some of Rosie’s, Hudson’s, and Maureen’s clothes as proof of their deaths, telling them the trio had become Skull food like she’d feared. Tressler had been devastated. Kara felt bad lying to him, leaving him in pain like this, thinking he’d failed his townspeople.

She promised herself when it was safe to do so, she’d let him in on the truth. Right now, she couldn’t trust anyone in that town.

Tressler had still been insistent that he pay her for completing her mission, even if it didn’t have the outcome he wanted. She initially turned him down. But he said there was no way he could let her go without some kind of payment.

Instead, she asked for a couple horses from a local ranch that were valued at less than half the monetary reward for her mission. She’d told Tressler she’d talked to Brenna, and the younger woman wanted to go mourn with family up north. The additional horses would make it easier for the two of them to travel, and Kara could use the gentle beasts to cart some of her supplies. She also mentioned to Tressler that after what she’d seen, she planned on loading up on more ammunition and weapons.

“Not a bad idea, darling,” he’d told her. “You stay safe. Take care of Brenna too. I don’t want to hear about another disaster like that.”

Brenna was safely in Devon and Sheila’s care now, along with Hudson and Maureen. Sheila had seemed worried that these newcomers would overstay their welcome, but Kara promised as soon as they found a safer place, she’d personally ensure the former cultists and Rosie’s sister would settle somewhere else.

Devon, on the other hand, felt differently. “It wouldn’t be so bad to have some more hands around the village. We got work for them if they want.” Then he’d winked at Kara, displaying his claws. “You know we can keep them a lot safer than that town they came from.”

Rosie promised she’d think about it, despite Caleb’s obvious skepticism.

Now, Caleb directed his mare, a gorgeous black horse with white markings around her face. The horse was a Belgian draft. Her big barrel body made Dancer look like a pony. Rosie had a red-brown quarter horse, much closer to Dancer’s size.

Rosie had warned them the major roads were almost all monitored by the Children. If they traveled through any populated towns, she feared they might be identified. Their best bet was to take the less traveled roads and trails.

Their ultimate destination was a town in part of the greater Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, metro area: Mechanicsburg.

With Rosie’s help, Kara had mapped out a route that took them through the Michaux State Forest, straight up to the edge of the Harrisburg-Carlisle metro.

Songs from warblers and thrushes drifted through the rustling leaves. Squirrels and chipmunks scampered about happily. A couple of curious squirrels watched the trio as they rode by, the small mammals chewing nuts and berries, their tails flicking back and forth.

Mosses and ferns carpeted the shaded forest floor, decorating rocky outcroppings and roots alike. Towering oaks, hickory, and maple trees provided glorious protection from the summer sun. Those times they traveled through small clearings, dashes of wildflowers brightened the greens and browns of the wilderness.

Kara sucked in the earthy, fresh woodland scent as the horses took them up a ridgeline trail mostly reconquered by nature. The horses deftly navigated the tangle of tree roots and smaller coils of vegetation between the spindly sprouts of weeds and wildflowers. Their hooves crushed the occasional bed of fragrant pine needles.

For those hours they spent in the forest, treading carefully and quietly through the biodiverse landscape, Kara felt a peace that often eluded her. It was only when they settled in at night, when they made camp and she tried to sleep, that the nightmarish scenes of the Children of Kusanagi played through her mind.

She wasn’t the only one. Several times during those quiet nights, Rosie woke up, panting and whimpering as Caleb held her, comforting her.

It was on their final day’s approach to Harrisburg that they were forced to cross more roads, signaling they were closer to the metro area. The rolling slopes of the forest appeared like verdant waves frozen in time. Kara took ample breaks whenever they reached an overlook offering them a vantage of their tree-filled surroundings.

She spotted plenty of soaring birds and families of deer loping through the forest. Thankfully, the few times they heard Skulls howling, the noise drifted far in the distance, never growing closer.

“We’ve probably got a few more hours until we reach Mechanicsburg,” Kara said, checking her map. “We’ll need to leave the horses when we get to the edge of the town. I’ve got a feeling it’ll be a lot easier to sneak around if we do.”

“Definitely,” Rosie said.

“I’ll miss this big gal,” Caleb said, patting the neck of his horse. “Hamburger’s been a good pal.”

“Still a stupid name,” Rosie said.

“Don’t tell Hamburger that. She’ll take offense.”

Rosie laughed.

It was good to see how she’d come out of her shell more during their journey. Almost as if seeing her sister again and spending this time in the forest had been therapeutic. Kara got it. You could almost forget that the rest of the world was hell when you were surrounded by verdant forests flush with life.

Problem was, they’d been lucky. Most people avoided nature now.

In the early days of the Tide, you wanted to be as far from populated centers as possible. That was where the Oni Agent was spreading the fastest, jumping between people, turning them into infectious Skulls. The cities just weren’t safe.

A lot of people rode out the initial wave of the Oni Agent by finding refuge in remoter smaller towns or campgrounds or vacation homes. Just like Caleb’s family had done. Then when the government got a handle on the Oni Agent situation, when the FGL had been defeated and the rest of the organization fled or was hunted down, many bigger cities and towns crept back to life. It was easier to protect people again when they could congregate in more defensible locations.

The Skulls were largely pushed out into the farther reaches of America’s wildlands. And so, the population shift occurred out of need. Hiking for recreation wasn’t as easy anymore. Nobody wanted to go camping unless they had to. Sure, some people still saw the Tide as a chance to reclaim their independence, live and thrive off the grid, using self-resilience as a defense mechanism against the ebbs and flows of a society struggling to recover. But that definitely wasn’t everybody. The country was barely holding itself together with duct tape and glue. Without people cooperating again, working closely together to resurrect America, Kara had no illusions what the country would look like.

Frankly, it probably wouldn’t exist.

“Kara, can I ask you something?” Rosie slowed her horse to fall in line with Dancer.

“Shoot,” Kara replied.

“I spent most of the Tide in Maryland. Stayed in the Cumberland area.”

“Okay.”

“We saw a bunch of Skulls. More than I believed could ever exist. The stories, though, were something else.”

“What stories?”

“About the other monsters. The other, uh, what do people call them?”

“Variants?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve seen a few pictures of Skulls that were enormous. Like they would put the Incredible Hulk to shame. Then I heard about others known as Droolers. They threw up acid or something. Is that… Is that real? Did you see them?”

Kara snorted, shaking her head. “More than I care to count. We spent so much time traveling the world, I guess we saw it all.”

“Can’t even imagine. I just don’t get how the Oni Agent caused all those different Skulls.”

“Weird reactions with people’s bodies. Everyone’s immune system is different, right?”

Rosie shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Look, I’m not exactly a scientist, but I worked with some really smart ones. They know this better than I do. The Droolers were real. Something about how the bony growths from the Oni Agent screwed with their bile system and natural hydrochloric acid production. They overproduce the gastric acid, it builds up in their belly, and then boom, they got one of the worst, ugliest, living weapons you’ve ever seen.”

“You survived against them things?” Caleb asked.

“Obviously,” Rosie said to him. “Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here.”

“No, I mean she actually fought them.”

“Some,” Kara said. “Same with the Goliaths.”

“Which are harder to put down?” Caleb asked.

“Goliaths by far. They can take a ton of abuse. They’re huge. You might as well be fighting a living boulder.”

Kara saw fear start to creep into their expressions. “Look, the Goliaths can’t hide as easy as the Skulls, right? The military’s done a good job of spotting them and taking them down, so there are way fewer Goliaths nowadays then during the Tide.”

“Droolers?” Rosie asked.

“Not as common. A side effect from all that acid is that they slowly destroy themselves over time. I can personally say I’ve seen a lot fewer now than even a few years ago.”

“I ain’t ever seen one,” Caleb said.

“Let’s keep it that way,” Rosie added.

They came to the edge of the forest and passed over an empty turnpike. Trees covered most of the town, overgrown lawns surrounding houses with broken windows and hanging shutters. Graffiti covered some of the buildings that were still standing. Other neighboring blocks had been burned to the ground. Blackened beams and cracked concrete sidewalks and driveways were the only evidence civilization had existed there at all.

A small red building had a small hanging sign out front that said, “Little Theater of Mechanicsburg.” Or that was what Kara figured. Half the black letters were peeling from it.

She signaled for the group to dismount and investigate. It didn’t take long to clear the inside. As promised, it was a tiny theater with a single small stage and probably under forty seats. It would serve as a perfect stable. They left the horses inside on the stage and continued on.

With every gust of wind, the stink of the town grew fiercer. The smell of rot and carrion saturated the humid air.

“We have to be careful,” Rosie said. “There are patrols all over. No one lives here anymore except the Children. But I think I know how to get there safely.”

Kara nodded. This was it. They were closing in. She just hoped that Rosie wasn’t leading them into some elaborate trap. But the payoff if Rosie was being truthful was worth the risk. While they snuck through the abandoned town, passing through a once-picturesque downtown marred by half-destroyed buildings and cratered asphalt, she kept an eye on every exfil route, constantly reassessing and reevaluating every opportunity to retreat.

Rosie had kept her word so far. Kara didn’t see anyone milling about the streets or keeping an eye out from any of the surviving two- or three-story buildings.

Soon, it wasn’t just the scent of Skulls spiking Kara’s heart rate. She heard the howls and clatter of bony talons against concrete.

Kara crouched beside a broken-down, rusted minivan with the other two. Crystals of broken glass sparkled at their feet. She listened to the sounds of the Skulls. The fetid odor on the air, overpowering.

“How many Skulls are out here?” Kara whispered to Rosie.

“There were maybe fifty when I was here before,” she said.

“That seems like a lot more,” Kara said. “You really think just fifty?”

“It’s been a couple weeks since I was brought up here,” Rosie explained. “Do you think we should turn back?”

“I want to get an eye on this place. I want to see what we can do about it.”

Caleb gulped hard. “We came this far…”

Rosie glanced between them. She closed her eyes a second then sucked in a deep breath. “Okay, okay.”

Voices called out over the groaning of the Skulls as they drew closer. Their target was a former supply and shipping depot that had hosted several pharmaceutical companies pre-Tide. Rails led between warehouses near the depot, tall grass and weeds growing between the rails.

Kara led them between warehouses, staying low in the waving grass. They darted between rusted-out vehicles and trailers, heading toward a self-storage facility that Rosie had promised was across from the supply depot.

When they reached the three-story building, Kara climbed through a broken window into a stairwell. They crept up through the dark, dingy facility until they reached a rooftop access door. There, they snuck toward the edge of the roof, staying low and flattening to their bellies when they reached it.

Kara raised her rifle, studying the scene that unfolded before her through her rifle scope.

Across the street, between the trees and wild grasses flickering in the wind, was the supply depot Rosie had told them about. The facility had a multitude of big doors sized for semitrailer loading and unloading. Wooden watchtowers were posted at the corners of the square perimeter, just inside chain-link fences topped with razor wire. Much of the fence was reinforced with wooden planks. As if those defenses weren’t enough, a horde of Skulls lumbered around outside the barricades. Their animalistic voices called out occasionally as they circled the fence.

“How are they all staying in control?” Caleb asked.

“The Hybrids.” Rosie pointed at the watchtowers.

Kara zoomed in on one of the watchtowers. Sure enough, she spotted a pair of Hybrids, eyes closed, faces stuck out into the wind, concentrating. She could only imagine the pheromones they were pumping out over the Skulls to keep them in line, the vast focus it was taking to maintain this much discipline. These weren’t your average civilians-turned-Hybrid. These ones had trained to hone their Heikegani Agent–given abilities.

Not a good sign.

Behind the fences were trucks ranging from military transports and medium tactical vehicles to flatbed semitrailer trucks. Many were being loaded up with big plastic barrels and sprayers that reminded Kara of industrial-scale pesticide equipment. Weird.

“What are they doing in there?” Kara asked Rosie. “You sure you don’t have any idea what’s actually going on inside?”

“All they told us was that they had more resources and preparation for the future than anyone realized. They promised we could make America better by working on the assembly lines in there.”

“But you never went in,” Kara said.

“Never,” she said. “When I saw all those Skulls, I knew something was wrong. I told them I wanted to go back to Maryland.”

“Why do they have all these Skulls?” Caleb asked. “That don’t seem smart.”

Kara knew why but let Rosie answer.

“Because they told us they can control the Skulls,” Rosie said. “Colorado said that wherever the Children go, the Skulls rise up to cleanse the unworthy.”

Kara couldn’t help the widening pit of dread forming inside her. “Because they’ve got Hybrids. No wonder.”

“They kept saying we had nothing to fear when it came to the Oni Agent. The Skulls would work for us.”

“Yeah, they’ll work for the Children all right,” Kara said. “Anyone who tries to bust in there is going to have to fight through a whole horde.”

They backed away from the roof edge, ducking behind the short wall around its border.

“Now that you see this place, do you think you can do something?” Rosie asked.

“Not alone, I can’t,” Kara said. This was one mission that went well beyond her expertise. She couldn’t imagine anyone foolish enough to try sneaking through that horde and infiltrating the facility alone. Plus, if there were all these Skulls on the outside, she could only imagine what kind of defenses the Children had waiting inside. “But I do know some people who might be able to help.”

-38-

Dom was in the Bethany’s command information center with Meredith, Lauren, and Navid. The small space amounted to little more than a fancy conference room at sea.

While the rest of the ship buzzed with activity, they could escape here to discuss the ongoing operation without distractions. It was quieter, more secluded than the electronics workshop. A single big screen was embedded in the otherwise plain walls.

Meredith had a cup of tea in front of her. Dom had a thermos of coffee. Navid was somehow operating with no additional caffeine, choosing plain old water instead.

Lauren uncharacteristically drank from a lime-green can containing fizzing liquid that Dom was pretty sure was acidic enough to dissolve a person’s stomach. It had to be at least as powerful as a Drooler’s caustic blast.

She caught Dom eying it. “Samantha told me I needed it more than her. She got it from her personal stash.”

“Is that medically advisable to drink?” Meredith asked.

“I’ll tell you what’s not medically advisable,” Lauren said. “Letting a blight originating from the Oni Agent kill all our crops.”

Dom took a long sip of coffee. The warm liquid tasted like microwaved mud, but it did the trick. “I know you haven’t found any viable candidates to stop the Oni Agent, or you would have told me. But you must have figured something out by now.”

“Well, we figured out how to clean the lab up from a disastrous fire and repair a bunch of equipment,” Navid said, massaging the bridge of his nose. He coughed then looked back up at Dom. “Sorry, Captain. That sounded shorter than I intended. Needless to say, we don’t have much, except—”

“Except the bioinformatics assay revealed something important.” Lauren patted Navid on the back. “This guy honestly saved the most important data from the fire. We discovered more than just DNA from the Oni Agent nanobacteria in the blight. We found evidence of fungal DNA sharing a high probability match with a sclerotinia sclerotium variant.”

Navid coughed again. “White mold, basically. It affects everything from soybeans to sunflowers to tomatoes. Causes complete wilting and plant rot. If ever there was a universal blight to be afraid of, this is it.”

“Is it coincidence this mold showed up with the Oni Agent on the plants?” Meredith asked.

“Definitely not,” Lauren said. “We’re looking at a symbiotic microorganism relationship. Maybe even a straight-up chimera.”

“Chimera?”

“An amalgamation of two separate species. In this case, the nanobacteria and white mold were combined to create this blight. Very unlikely that happened naturally.”

Dom blew out an exasperated sigh. That wasn’t unexpected, but the news didn’t feel any better. Before he could ask another question, Navid started coughing again. This time, he nearly doubled over.

“You okay?” Meredith asked.

Navid held up a hand as the coughing settled. “Peter’s checked me out a dozen times. Yeah, I’ve got smoke inhalation and inflamed tracheal tissues from the chemical fumes during the fire. But it’ll heal.”

“If you need to take it easy, you do that,” Dom said. “You’re not solving a blight crisis if you’re on a patient bed, understood?”

“I can handle it,” Navid said.

Dom hoped the guy was right. The researcher was as dogged and stubborn as any of the Hunters. “Tell us more about this white mold component of the blight. Is there a cure?”

“We’re looking to investigate fungicides that might stop its spread and even kill it off entirely on infected plants,” Lauren said. “That includes dicarboximide fungicides like iprodione. They are effective at inhibiting spore germination and mycelial growth, so we can contain the blight. Demethylation inhibitor—DMI—fungicides might block ergosterol biosynthesis. Basically, we could disrupt the cell walls of the white mold, killing the cells off one by one.”

“There are a few other fungicides, some experimental, that might work,” Navid said. “We’ll try as many as we can get our hands on.”

Dom arched a brow. “All the reports we got back from Samantha and Sean’s earlier work showed most farmers had tried some of these fungicides already. You sure one of these is going to be better than what people were using on their fields?”

“We can’t be sure,” Lauren said, “but we’re working off a new hypothesis.”

Navid coughed again. “We think people approached the blight wrong. Lauren had a good point about the original Oni Agent. To destroy the nanobacteria, we had to eliminate the mineralized bony growths the cells create to protect themselves.”

“We think the white mold is protected by the same bony growth,” Lauren said. “Since the nanobacteria are extremophiles, they’re happy living on the exterior of the plants. They can’t digest the plant matter itself because of the cell walls. But the assholes who engineered the blight might have done something unexpected.”

Navid opened his laptop and showed Dom and Meredith a fluorescent image. “I stained the nuclei of the plant cells red. The nuclei of the nanobacteria are green.”

Dom saw a mess of red and green dots mixing together in one microscopic soup. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Normally, you wouldn’t see the nanobacteria invading the plant matter. They aren’t infecting the plants at all, actually. We were thinking about this all backward.”

“What do you mean?” Meredith asked. “You know, for us nonscience people.”

“The Oni Agent survives by feeding on the proteins it digests from its host,” Lauren said. “That’s a major reason why Skulls are such unrepentant carnivores. The nanobacteria in the blight are just as hungry.”

Navid pointed to the image of mixed-up nuclei. “This image shows me the parts of the blight growth that are mineralized by the nanobacteria. In them, we’re finding traces of plant cells that have been mostly destroyed.”

Lauren started explaining again. “We think the white mold component degrades plant cell walls. The cytoplasm and all the other organelles and parts of the plant cells leak out into the bony blight growths. The nanobacteria gobble all this up.”

Dom scratched his chin. “Basically, the white mold is the bank robber, takes all the money, then hands most of it off to the mob bosses who protect him, the nanobacteria.”

“Yeah. You’ve got it,” Lauren said. “And you’ve alluded to the second most important part of this process. It’s possible that when farmers tried to combat the blight, they used fungicides that killed off some of the white mold. But those fungicides didn’t penetrate the mineralized structure the nanobacteria made. Any white mold hanging out inside the bone-like part of the blight growths survived then just regrew again when the fungicide wore off.”

“It’s a remarkable and frightening symbiotic relationship,” Navid said. “In order to stop it, we need a compound that destabilizes the blight growths then follow it up with a fungicide to eliminate all the white mold spores and mold itself.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dom said. “We can already demineralize the growths, right?”

Navid nodded, holding a hand over his mouth as he coughed.

Lauren answered for him. “The chelation treatment we developed all the way back when we first discovered the Oni Agent should still work. It’s a tried-and-true method to remove the calcium ions from the mineral matrix around the nanobacteria, weakening it dramatically.”

“I got to say I’m feeling way more optimistic today than a week ago,” Meredith said.

Lauren gave them a sympathetic smile. “Don’t get too excited. Even if we find a fungicide that works on this particular white mold strain, we’re going to need to experiment with dosages and exposure duration to ensure we can actually kill this stuff.”

“Plus,” Navid said, his voice raspy, “we need to have a reliable supply. Even if we find a fungicide that works, if we don’t have enough…”

“Just like fighting Skulls,” Dom said. “We have guns that work against them, but it never seems like we have enough bullets to stop them all.”

Lauren sighed. “That’s what we’re up against. Shelton promised to reach out to all his network. He’s going to scrounge up as many friends in the field as possible. Anyone with fungicides we don’t have will hopefully be sending samples for us to try.”

“Good,” Dom said. But while the science team had shared relatively good news, he was afraid he couldn’t return the favor. “Except we may be running into another problem. Four more agricultural-related labs and businesses were destroyed by Skull attacks over the past two nights. Thornfield suspects there may be even more than that, but we just don’t know yet. News travels slow nowadays, and his people are working double time to check in on anyone doing work that may remotely be related to this blight.”

Lauren looked crestfallen at the news. “We can’t let this go on. If we don’t have enough fungicide, if we don’t have ag labs that can help us, it doesn’t matter if we develop a cure to the blight.”

“I don’t want you two to worry about that,” Dom said. “Presume we’ll find a way to deal with our supply issues. You two just worry about figuring out what actually kills the blight.”

He dismissed the duo, leaving him and Meredith alone in the CIC.

“Time for our updates, huh?” Meredith started. “I wish I had more. My contacts in and out of Langley know about as much on the Children of Kusanagi as the briefing Thornfield gave us.”

“A whole lot of nothing. I don’t like that.”

“Me neither,” Meredith said. “It’s not just the lack of intel on them. It’s the fact they’ve exploded out of nowhere. I mean, a couple years ago, I’d have had no idea who they were. Then I thought they were just the people who pestered you with all those ‘End is Nigh’ type signs around town. A few weeks ago, we knew they were somewhat dangerous. But they’re now a national security concern. Now… they’ve just exploded.”

“They remind me of FARC,” Dom said, referring to the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia.

“Absolutely. Booming from drug trafficking and criminal activities to sustain an unexpected and debilitating insurgency. Same with Hezbollah. Iran funneled millions of dollars their way, and before the Tide, they reshaped politics and economics in Lebanon. From nothing to a powerful terrorist and political force in the Middle East.”

“Still, none of these groups had the meteoric rise of the Children of Kusanagi,” Dom said.

“I’d attribute it to the economic and security situation in the United States. I guarantee they wouldn’t have grown this quickly back when national security was something we did well.”

“Never thought I’d see the day when a homegrown terrorist group has this much power in my own country. I—”

Samantha suddenly burst into the CIC. She wasn’t one to follow normal military decorum, but she usually had the courtesy to knock.

That told Dom there was an emergency. He prayed it wasn’t another issue on the ship.

“Dom,” she said, “we’ve got Kara on the comms.”

Not an accident on the ship after all. But it was something even more unexpected.

-39-

Dom was at one of the comm stations in the electronics workshop. Through his headset, he listened intently to the sound of his daughter’s voice. Kara explained everything that had happened to her since going to Cumberland, from the Hybrids to the Children of Kusanagi. Dom couldn’t help but connect the dots. If they had Hybrids under their control, Colorado must be using them to help target Skull attacks. Everywhere they spread the blight with that equipment Kara had seen, they would use the Skulls to wreak havoc on the local populace as well. The increasingly numerous attacks on agricultural companies and businesses and farms by Skulls was also easily explained by the Children’s use of the Hybrids.

“I think they’re up to a whole lot of bad,” she concluded. “I figured you all might be interested.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Dom said. “Do you have any idea what they’re doing in this facility?”

“Not really,” Kara said. “Rosie told me they were using fresh recruits as labor. Packaging things. Making things. She didn’t really know because she tried to dip out before they even took her inside.”

“She’s positive this Colorado Singer guy spends most of his time there?”

“She was only in the Children for a matter of weeks. Her intel probably isn’t the best. Any chance you can verify any of this?”

Dom thought back to the young woman they’d caught after the Molotov cocktail incident. She was in military custody. They could track her down. There was also the Children of Kusanagi guy Miguel’s group had apprehended and handed off to local authorities after the Murdock Ag attack. And of course, they had a guest strapped down in the med bay who had regained consciousness but was refusing to speak.

“We have some potential leads,” Dom said. “Armed with everything you told me, we might be able to squeeze even more out of the Children we’ve got in custody.”

Interrogatees always seemed more pliable when you showed them that you knew even more than they originally thought. Plus, Meredith was great at reading people’s subtle nonverbal cues. If he talked to Hooper, even if the guy didn’t say a word, Dom bet they could glean some helpful insight.

“Can you just scoop some of those Children of Kusanagi protestors off the street?” Kara asked.

“Meredith and I considered it,” Dom said, “but most likely, those protestors don’t know all that much. If we start bringing them in randomly, word will spread through the Children. I don’t want to give them any warning we’re coming.”

“Then you better not tell a soul about what I told you unless you can absolutely trust them,” Kara said. “Rosie says there were maybe a dozen people in Cumberland alone that were involved in the Children of Kusanagi. You wouldn’t know it unless they recruited you, though.”

“It’s much more widespread than we initially thought,” Dom said.

“Yeah. You could definitely say that.”

“How much about the organization do Rosie and her friends think the average cult member knows?”

“Not a whole lot, by the sounds of things,” Kara said. “To be honest, most of the people seem like they’re in it because of a mixture of hope and desperation. They want to believe things will get better. They’re buying into the Children’s messaging. It’s a whole bunch of people who are otherwise innocent and don’t have a clue what the Children are really doing.”

“What are they really doing?” Dom asked.

“I saw them murder people. I saw them use the Skulls to their own benefit. What else do I need to know?”

“I’ll tell you.” Dom did. From every recent mission to their current scientific work. “We’re looking at a major catastrophe, and from what we’ve seen, they’re at the center of it.”

“It’s only going to get worse if we don’t stop them,” Kara said.

“You give me your coordinates, and we’ll be there,” Dom said. “Then get yourself somewhere safe in the meantime.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“I’m staying put. Someone’s got to keep an eye on this place before you get here. You need someone to watch for Singer and survey the defenses. I can keep you updated to the second you arrive. Every good mission is made better with good intel. Isn’t that what you told me?”

Dom hated that she was right. He could feel this verging on one of the arguments they’d had before she left the Hunters. Back when he’d had to make an extraordinarily difficult decision. One she never agreed with. But he didn’t dare broach that topic now.

“Even if I told you to get somewhere safe, you wouldn’t, would you?” Dom asked.

“If you were in my position, would you?”

“It really is like speaking to myself,” Dom said. He gritted his teeth. “Fine. Just keep your head down. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Ah, if I do something you would do, then you’re not going to like that either.”

“You know what I mean. You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“You always said I take after you.” Then there was a beat of silence over the phone. Her tone shifted back to one of worry. It tugged at him, and he couldn’t help picturing her as a young girl he could wrap into his arms. “Dad, just get here quickly. These people need to be stopped.”

“You keep your end of the bargain. I’ll keep mine.” He paused. “Kara?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you. Please, take care of yourself.”

He hated having to hang up that call. It had been so long since he’d seen her. And now the next time he was going to see her was during an integral mission to stop the Children of Kusanagi. This certainly wasn’t how he’d planned on a reunion.

“Everything good?” Meredith asked with a concerned expression. She’d been waiting in the wings of the workshop, giving Dom space to speak to his daughter.

“Yes and no,” Dom said. “Kara’s good. For now. She just so happens to be sitting on the roof of a building maybe a couple hundred yards away from where the leader of the Children of Kusanagi is supposed to be.”

Meredith huffed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. She disappears for years, and that’s how she shows back up?”

“At least Sadie’s going to be happy to hear we spoke to her,” Dom said. “I guess if this mission is successful, maybe I can have that talk I’ve been wanting to have with her.”

Meredith put a hand on Dom’s. “You should. Definitely.”

“That relies on a successful mission, though. She gave me the coordinates of a supply depot in Mechanicsburg.” Dom opened a laptop next to the comms station. He pulled up a map of the area, including one of the river systems leading to Harrisburg. “The Susquehanna River could take us right into the core of Harrisburg. Should be an easy jump from the river into the supply depot.”

“Could the Bethany make it all the way up the river?”

Dom dragged his finger along the map. “No. There are parts of the river that get down to six-foot depths. We’re looking a minimum draught of around thirteen feet for the ship. Not a good match.”

He pointed at the mouth of the river, where it met the Chesapeake. “Here’s what I’m thinking, though. We can head to Aberdeen.”

“Ah, the Proving Grounds,” Meredith said, referencing the US Army facility. The Proving Grounds hosted weapons research and development operations.

“That’ll be good cover for our appearance in the area, if any Children of Kusanagi are watching.”

“Good idea. Then we take the Zodiacs upriver and into town under the cover of night.”

“You’ve got it. Just like our old sea-land operations. We strike quickly and quietly.”

“How much of this do you want to tell Thornfield?” Meredith asked.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, aren’t you?”

“Better to ask for forgiveness later than permission now.”

“Especially if there’s the remote chance that someone leaks our planned arrival at Aberdeen,” Dom said. “We’re going to have to deal with the port authorities in the Chesapeake, but I want to buy as much time as possible.”

Meredith nodded. “I don’t distrust Thornfield, but he’s basically trying to drag up water from a well that’s been peppered with buckshot.”

Dom laughed at the apt description. “If Hooper got through his fingers, if his people said they had a thorough background on Hooper, and then the guy sets our ship on fire? Yeah, Thornfield’s got holes in his bucket.”

“We could reach out to some other contacts in the military,” Meredith offered.

“I respect those who serve, but the recruitment standards have had to take a dip to shore up our defenses,” Dom said. “Again, I just don’t want this to get out. All it takes is one private who’s got friends in the Children, and we ruin our best advantage. I want to take the Children by surprise. It’s the best chance of scooping up their leader. You agree?”

“I do,” Meredith said. “As much as I value the many allies we’ve made over the years, we’ve always performed better on our own. A horde of Skulls? Some crazed cultists? That’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“We’ve got to show them that Vermont was a mistake. They’ve woken the sleeping giant, and they will pay the consequences.”

-40-

The loading bay buzzed with activity. Finally, for the first time in a year, they were shaking the barnacles off the ship’s hull and doing what they did best. Sailing the open water to go strike down their enemy.

They’d already been at sea for five hours. As they churned up through Chesapeake Bay, they slowed on their approach to Aberdeen. Miguel slipped a set of ceramic plates into his plate carrier. Then he scooped up magazines for his suppressed M4A1, depositing them into the pouches on his vest. He checked over the flip-down night vision goggles on his helmet. The charge was good and should be more than sufficient for tonight. He had a couple of stun grenades on his belt, too, ready for when they reached the Children of Kusanagi’s supply depot.

The sound of metallic clicking and Velcro snapping echoed throughout the bay as the other Hunters got ready.

Andris secured a brick of plastic explosives in one of his MOLLE pouches. “I’m going to make a big boom tonight,” he said with a nearly demonic grin under his black face point.

Glenn put a meaty hand on Andris’s shoulder. “Just make sure we’re all out of the building when you do.”

“Oh, I want to make a big boom to get us in the building,” Andris said.

“Great idea, champ,” Jenna said. “Let’s tell all the Skulls in New England exactly where they can find their dinner.”

“Come on,” Andris said, “it has been much too long since I got to use real explosives.”

Rachel and Rory were helping each other adjust their plate carriers. Rachel turned back to Andris. “I miss fireworks. We’re only a couple days from the Fourth of July, so why not?”

“See?” Andris jerked his thumb toward her. “This one? I like. I knew we let you into the Hunters for a reason.”

“Like you had anything to do with it, bro.” Miguel laughed.

“What do you mean?” Andris asked.

“You’re good for blowing things up and shooting them. Not making decisions.”

Andris feigned hurt. “How can you say such a thing?”

Glenn gave him a knowing smirk. “Look, I haven’t been gone long enough to remember that time you decided you could eat jalapeno peppers like apples.”

Jenna had to put a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from busting out laughing. “I’ve never seen someone turn red so fast.”

“At least you didn’t have to see what the heads looked like after he’d been through them,” Miguel said. “I swore he was going to burn a hole straight through the toilet and into the sea.”

Rory secured his helmet over his head and clicked the strap into place. “Ten years go by, the world changes, but one thing never does.”

“What is that?” Andris asked.

“You guys never stop giving each other shit.”

“It’s a time-honored tradition,” Miguel said. “If you can’t rib the guy—”

“And gal,” Rachel offered.

“Yeah, if you can’t bust the guys’ and gals’ asses that you’re going downrange with, how the hell do you think you can trust them with your life?”

“That’s right.” Glenn patted Rory’s helmet. “Get your brain buckets on and get ready. We got cultists and Skulls on the menu tonight, boys and girls.”

The already quiet hum of the ship’s engines turned to an even quieter purr. Miguel felt the ship slow to a gentle glide, its sound-muffled water propulsion system driving it stealthily through the bay.

That was when Dom entered with Meredith beside him, both wearing their black fatigues and weapons. Sadie followed, heading to the engineering controls of the bay. All the easy humor passing among the crew quieted at their arrival.

Dom stood at a small platform near the bay’s entrance. “You’ve all had time to review your briefings. You better have memorized the maps by now. Our primary goal is to neuter all Children of Kusanagi activities at the supply depot. Secondary objectives include securing and apprehending all cult members that aren’t shooting at us. We’ve got word that some people working in that facility may have no idea what they’re actually doing. They might not be completely innocent. If necessary, we’ll apprehend them and let the military sort them out. You know Thornfield’s going to have questions for them.

“We’re also going to be documenting all blight-related activities. We have reason to believe they might be distributing the engineered Oni Agent blight from this facility. If that’s so, we’re going to put a cap in it and make sure, whatever happens to that facility, we bring back samples for the science team.”

“Chief, we got intel to back that up?” Miguel asked.

“I had a long talk with Hooper,” Meredith said. “We reached out to a couple agencies and organizations with Children in their captivity to verify what I learned. Not to belabor anything, but yes, I believe that’s where they’re distributing the blight. That’s where Hooper was told he needed to take Shelton as well. No idea if they’ve got labs up there manufacturing it or what. But you should assume we’re entering the real ground zero for the origin of the Oni Agent blight.”

“Latest updates from Kara confirm the leader of the cult is Colorado Singer,” Dom said. “He’s unmissable. Lanky, tall man with long dark hair and a beard to match. Plus, he carries a sword. If at all possible, we want him alive. If that’s not possible, you make him pay for what he’s done.”

“Not going to be a problem,” Andris said, his accent particularly strong.

“Good. I’m Alpha One,” Dom said. “With me on Alpha will be Meredith, Rachel, and Rory. After pulling off the Skulls, we’ll enter from the south. Miguel, you’re Bravo One. You’ve got Jenna, Glenn, and Andris. You four will make entry on the eastern side. Take out the Hybrids in the watchtowers, then mow your way through the Skulls to get inside the gates. I want to be in and out in an hour. Frank and Jett will be flying for exfil as soon as we make contact with the enemy.”

“What about Kara?” Rory asked.

“She’ll be providing surveillance from a neighboring facility,” Dom said. “Any more questions?”

The Hunters remained quiet.

“Hunters, I don’t need to tell you again how important tonight’s mission is.”

“But you’re going to tell us anyway, Chief,” Miguel interjected.

Dom gave him a slight grin. “You’re damn right I am. You all know what’s at stake. We’re trying to slow, if not stop, a new bioweapon that’s once again threatening America. This time, we know what we’re up against. We’ve dealt with these Skulls for years. A bunch of armed cultists? Come on. There’s not a more well-suited crew than the men and women on this ship for the task at hand.”

He slammed his palm on the handrail, raising his voice. “Now load up, and let’s go kick some ass!”

Sadie stood at the controls of the loading bay. She hit a switch that turned off all the normally bright lights. For a second, they were bathed in nearly complete darkness until she hit another button that activated the crimson battle lights. The bay door on the portside creaked open.

“Bravo, load up!” Dom barked.

Miguel was the first aboard his Zodiac. Glenn, Jenna, and Andris piled in after. The small craft swayed as a gust of wind rushed over them. Water spewed at the prow of the Bethany, the big stealth ship still in motion, providing cover for their insertion.

Miguel gave Sadie a big thumbs-up, and she activated the davit. The ropes lowered the Zodiac into the water. Miguel started the dual motors on the back. They gurgled to life as he revved the throttle. As soon as they hit the water’s choppy surface, he twisted the motor controls, the props kicking up water. Glenn and Andris unlatched the Zodiac from the cables, and the boat rocketed forward, splashing through the waves around the Bethany’s prow.

Clouds covered the night sky, choking out the stars. The moon made only a partial appearance tonight. The waters were so dark, Miguel felt like they may as well have been flying right through the sky.

He twisted the handle, pushing them forward at a speedy forty knots. Wind whipped over them, the salty air swirling around.

And just like torpedoes streaking off in the depths, they barreled toward their target upriver, ready to stop a diabolical enemy that had risen up on their own turf.

Miguel had fought on US soil before. He’d fought the Skulls and all the other horrible creatures that had swelled from the bowels of Hell. He’d fought the foreign FGL forces that had tried to ring America’s death knell when the Oni Agent had America on its knees.

Despite it all, despite the horrors he’d faced, he never expected to be fighting the very people he’d taken an oath to protect all the way back when he’d first joined the Army.

Fate was twisted like that. Throwing you curve balls when you least expected it.

Only fate didn’t know that Miguel Ruiz swung back. Hard.

-41-

Navid turned to the side, coughing into his shoulder. His nitrile-gloved hands were filled with cartons full of pipettes. He brought them over to the tissue culture hood where Lauren and Sadie were working side by side, depositing various chemicals into the multitude of plastic culture dishes lying on the stainless steel surface. Most of the lab still smelled like burned plastic, and hunks of broken and melted equipment lay scattered on a couple of the lab benches.

“You okay?” Sadie asked. She’d been working in the labs with them throughout the day, only leaving briefly to see the Hunters off.

“I’ll be good.” Navid slipped the containers full of pipette tips under the glass shield.

“You sure? You don’t sound good.”

Navid smiled at her concern. “I’m not good now. But I mean it when I say I will be good. Just going to take some time to heal.”

Sean had suffered worse than Navid. The scientist was in the med bay still. He was able to work for short periods of time on a computer. But Peter demanded he take it easy, keeping him on a strict regimen of antibiotics, steroids, and ventilator use to ensure his trachea and lungs healed properly. He had already experienced acute bacterial infection, and Peter was trying desperately to ensure Sean didn’t have another debilitating secondary infection.

Shelton had helped best he could from his patient bed. His gunshot injuries had been exacerbated by Hooper’s attempt to take the guy off the ship. A bacterial infection had taken hold in him too. Though Shelton was proving to be relatively helpful, Navid still didn’t fully trust him. Not after what Hooper had pulled.

Navid wondered where he would be right now if Lauren hadn’t come back to the Hunters. Not to mention, Sadie had been helping in the lab since the very early days of being rescued by the Hunters during the Tide. She wasn’t necessarily an investigative scientist, but she was an adept lab technician, capable of helping with most of their basic experiments.

Navid dragged over a third stool to join them at the hood.

Within were rows upon rows of various culture plates and dishes. The top row contained 9 cm Petri dishes. Dark splotches showered where the blight grew on agar. They had initially deposited 5 mm diameter plugs of the blight in those dishes a couple days ago. Below the row of 9 cm Petris were 24-well plates, again containing 5 mm diameter plugs of the blight samples. Each plug was nestled in a small well with a diameter of 13 mm.

Finally, there were 96-well plates with tiny wells. They’d emulsified the blight into cell-sized particles, pipetting them in at a density of two thousand particles per well.

They were testing six different formulations of fungicides mixed with the chelating agent at a range of twelve different dosages for each formulation.

It was, to put it simply, a lot.

Navid had been up for nearly forty-eight hours straight. He was exhausted. But that was nothing compared to the sacrifices the Hunters were making infiltrating up the river to Harrisburg. So long as they were out there risking their lives in the field, he would be in here, in the lab, ensuring they found a working cure before the night was over.

They’d been working nonstop for so long before Lauren even arrived. They were getting closer.

Lauren was sorting the plates as Sadie scribbled on a lab notebook to inventory each of the samples. Navid began selecting 9 cm Petri dishes to measure the blight samples’ growth over the past three days under a microscope.

“I can’t believe we’re almost there!” Sadie said, voice hitched in energetic excitement. “I got to tell you, I like this work way better than being stuffed in the engine room.”

“Ah, you’ve been spoiled,” Lauren said to Sadie.

“How’s that?” Sadie asked. “I work my butt off in the engine room—and then when I’m needed up here, I never say no.”

“Not that kind of spoiled,” Lauren said. “Usually, research doesn’t happen this fast. These high throughput studies can take months even on an industrial scale before you roll out a new formulation. We’re practically working at the speed of light.”

“Really?” Sadie asked. “Because I feel like this process is kind of tedious. Waiting six hours or even three days to get one absorbance reading or a cell count. That’s slow in my books.”

“You can’t speed up biology,” Navid said. “I used to work on cell studies that took six months of culturing to complete. God forbid some undergraduate student without proper sterile technique accidentally introduce an infection in those cell cultures.”

“Speaking from experience?” Lauren asked.

Navid just shook his head as he started coughing again.

“At least we’re only doing three-day studies max,” Sadie said.

“Hopefully, it’s enough,” Navid said. “Because Shelton told me he didn’t have any more sources for fungicide samples. Anything that’s still produced in this country is in those cell cultures.”

He stacked up a few more Petri dishes. All America’s hopes relied on the data they would pull from these small plastic dishes and the blight growing inside them. But without the luxury of time or resources, that was exactly what would have to happen.

“I’m going to start measuring the diameter of these samples,” Navid said. “I can run the 24-well plates through the microscopic diameter measurements too.”

Lauren gave him a nod. “Good. We’re ready to start doing the absorption readings on the 96-well plates. Sadie?”

The younger woman took a stack of 96-well plates to the absorption reader. She fed them in, one by one, as the machine clicked. Absorption readings propagated across the screen, mapped to the cell culture sample templates they’d created earlier for this experiment.

In the meantime, Navid used an automated microscope picture-taking protocol he’d spent the past several hours honing. Gone were the days when he had to manually take a photo with an old-school confocal microscope in a dark room then analyze those images later using another software suite. Now he had access to a microscope that looked like something out of a science fiction novel, a bulbous contraption that was its own dark room, snapping pictures and taking measurements automatically. Thank all that was holy it had survived the fire with nothing but a few scorch marks.

Their work took an hour to put the samples through their equipment, but they hardly had to do any data processing. Thanks to the templates they’d set up in their individual software suites for the equipment, most of the heavy data lifting was done for them.

Sure, normally, they’d go through the data again by hand to ensure there were no errors. But for a quick and dirty approach, this would have to suffice.

Lauren downloaded the data they’d retrieved from the absorption reader with Sadie’s help. Navid transferred everything the microscope and its built-in software spit out too.

“You three ready for this?” Lauren asked as they gathered around her computer. “The moment of truth.”

Navid watched as Lauren organized the data from the blight colony diameter measurements alongside the absorption readings. Every one of the fungicides they’d used had been coupled with the chelating agent. Theoretically, they’d done exactly what they’d told Dom and Meredith they planned on trying. Attack the boney growths with the chelating agent as a battering ram, then follow up on the blight with fungicides as the soldiers.

The only problem was that crop blight was notoriously hard to treat. There was no guarantee that if they even demineralized the bony growths protecting the blight that any of the fungicides would have an effect on the white mold component.

“First up is the chlorothalonil group,” Lauren said. “This is our bread and butter for fighting white mold blight.”

“From what Shelton told me, it’s mostly used for preventative measures, though,” Navid warned. “I’m not overly optimistic.”

“Don’t say that,” Sadie said. “Optimism is exactly what we need.”

First Lauren pulled up the graphs showing the blight plug diameters over time. Ideally, if the fungicide worked, the plugs would be eaten away over time. They would see a reduction in diameter or perhaps complete dissolution.

They found the opposite.

“The diameters of the plugs all increase,” Lauren said, tracing her finger along the graph.

“They don’t work?” Sadie asked.

“No,” Navid said. He cleared his throat to prevent another creeping coughing fit. “They don’t work.”

“To be clear, there is a brief reduction in diameter after twenty-four hours,” Lauren said, indicating a dip in the graph. “But then it recovers, so long-term prognosis wouldn’t be good.”

Navid furrowed his brow. “Can you bring up the images for that timepoint?”

Lauren showed a few microscopic images they’d taken of blight samples in the culture plates from around that time. “Ah, I see. Makes sense. The chelating agent demineralizes the growths. Hence the reduction in diameter.”

“But the fungicides don’t kill off the fungus,” Navid said. “The white mold just gets to keep growing and spreading.”

“That means part of our solution works, right?” Sadie asked.

“Yeah,” Navid said. “But you can’t run half a marathon and say you won the race. We need to kill that white mold.”

“Check out this one,” Lauren said. “Anilinopyrimidines. This family impairs amino acid synthesis.”

She pulled up another set of graphs and images.

“Look!” Sadie said excitedly. “The diameters decrease over two days!”

“But that third day…” Navid said, staring at an abrupt recovery in diameter size. “What’s going on with the absorption readings?”

“Same story,” Lauren said.

“Okay, if I understand this right, the chelating agent works,” Sadie said. “We know that. Then it looks like the anilino-whatever fungicide starts killing off the white mold. Next thing you know is that the white mold just starts coming back. Why’s that?”

Navid grimaced. “This is a really bad sign. It means that the white mold is highly adaptive. I read a couple papers talking about how white mold can be resistant to anilinopyrimidines. I think what we’re seeing is this family of fungicides breeds out the weakest of the white mold cells, and the strong ones survive.”

“You mean we’re helping to grow fungicide-resistant mold?” Sadie clarified.

“Exactly,” Lauren said. “It’s the same concept as antibiotic-resistant bacteria growing in hospitals. The more we use antibiotics, especially if they’re not used appropriately, the more we put evolutionary pressure on bacteria to grow more antibiotic resistant.”

Sadie turned back to the screen. “So if we used those solutions, we would end up making an even stronger blight.”

“That’s why we’ve got to get this right the first time,” Navid said.

They examined another family of blight treatments. Strobilurins. These targeted mitochondrial respiration. Basically, they prevented cells from providing the molecules they needed to fuel themselves. Once again, the fungicide didn’t seem to affect the white mold.

Benzamides were next. Multipurpose inhibitors, Navid had high hopes for them. While they had dramatic acute effects, long-term they only succeeded at producing fungicide-resistant blight cells.

“Triazoles are the tried-and-true treatment for white mold blight,” Navid said as they moved on to the next one. “They inhibit ergosterol biosynthesis. Which means these guys should destroy the cell wall of the white mold. They do an excellent job of curing and controlling white mold blight.” His palms were growing sweaty, and he found his pulse accelerating. “This has to work.”

But no matter which way they examined the results, it did not.

So far, they didn’t have a single working combination of chelating agent and fungicide. There was just one more family of treatments to try.

SDHIs—succinate dehydrogenase inhibitors. They’d been on the market since the 1960s, which meant they were old technology. But there was a newer SDHI called boscalid that might offer some effectiveness against white mold blight. A major benefit of boscalid was its low acute toxicity to people. Not that it was healthy to ingest, but it wasn’t as harmful as other chemicals that might get sprayed on crops. Boscalid wasn’t a dominant force in the fungicide market pre-Tide, and with most R&D taking a deep nosedive after the Tide, it hadn’t had a chance to surge in popularity.

It was a lot to ask, but Navid prayed this one actually worked. If it didn’t, what other options did they have? How would they attack the blight? Would they be forced to sit back and watch as all of America’s crops succumbed to a bioweapon?

“Ready?” Lauren asked.

Navid wasn’t sure he could possibly be ready for whatever came next. But he gave her a thumbs-up anyway.

Then Lauren opened the graphs.

-42-

Night blanketed Mechanicsburg. Skulls continued to throng around the perimeter of the Children of Kusanagi’s supply depot. Kara studied the facility through the scope of her rifle, keeping track of the sporadic guard patrols. While she counted at least twenty-four different warriors in Skull armor patrolling the ground, she imagined the bulk of the Children’s defenses consisted of the couple-hundred beasts milling around outside. The veritable moat of flesh-tearing claws and jugular-tearing teeth was enough to turn most back immediately. Unfortunately for the Children, they hadn’t met the Hunters.

A violent streak of white light cut through the black sky. Seconds later came the deep rumble of thunder. Kara could taste the promise of rain in the air as the summer thunderstorm rolled toward them. The weather wasn’t going to make tonight any easier.

The Children didn’t use any spotlights. The facility was bathed in darkness. Probably didn’t want to attract any attention from any flyovers or distant passersby.

All through the night, more Skulls had trickled in. It seemed the horde’s undulating cries and the clatter of their taloned feet against asphalt and pavement was enough to attract every monster lurking in the vicinity.

She checked her watch, squinting at its glow in the dim star- and moonlight. According to her dad, the Hunters should be arriving in under an hour. They would be contending with the river, which she bet had swelled in the past couple days from the summer rains that had drenched the area.

Workers continued to load cargo onto the trucks.

Based on what she’d learned, Kara would be willing to bet the pesticide-application equipment was actually loaded up with a solution containing the blight. That was probably how the Children had helped spread the engineered disease.

What she didn’t have a guess for were the other crates and pallets filled with stacks of white plastic bags. She couldn’t make out the words on the packages. They weren’t liquid. She wondered if this was another way to transport the blight in some kind of solid state, though she couldn’t quite figure out how that would work.

“Kara,” Caleb said in a trenchant voice. He was on the eastern-facing side of the roof with Rosie.

When she turned toward him, he was beckoning her. She rushed over, staying low as she shot over the roof. “What’s going on?”

“Look at that.” He pointed off into the distance.

She didn’t even have to raise her scope to her eyes. Bright lights bloomed in the distance.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Caleb said. “But I saw those headlights coming up the highway.”

She raised her rifle to her shoulder and stared through the scope. Most of the landscape was covered in trees. Even in the town itself, trees grew wild, untended over the past ten years, providing ample cover between buildings.

Which was great when you were trying to sneak through town and spy on belligerent hostile forces. Not so great when you were trying to surveil incoming vehicles that might jeopardize the upcoming mission.

“What is it?” Rosie asked. “Is it a big truck? One of those military-like ones?”

Kara tried to catch a glimpse through the leaves. The rumble of the truck’s engines rolled over them, growing louder on its approach. “Hard to say. But it might be. Sounds like it, doesn’t it?”

“It sounds like the trucks they brought us in on,” Rosie said. “Which means…”

“More people being dragged up here to work for them,” Kara said. “Just what we need tonight.”

“What do we do?” Caleb asked.

“Right now?” Kara said. “Not much we can do but hold our ground until the Hunters arrive.”

The truck rumbled ever closer. But as it started down the road running straight to the supply depot, Kara got a better glimpse of it. With far fewer trees, she could finally size it up. It was indeed an old medium tactical vehicle truck. Tan canvas covered the truck bed, and as it passed, Kara got a good look into the back of the vehicle. Inside were over twenty different people, all sitting in the truck bed. They wore various expressions from terror to pride to eager anticipation.

Most of the passengers inside were unarmed. But hanging off the back of the truck were two men, each wearing bone plates and masks to make them look like Skulls. They had what looked like AR-15s hanging over their chests.

Kara guessed she could take the two of them if she got the truck to stop. If she rescued these people, she had no idea how dyed-in-the-wool they’d already become. How many would resist her efforts to stop them?

No, she couldn’t do it.

She kept low, racing along the edge of the roof as they passed the self-storage facility. They approached the front gate into the supply depot. At first, it looked as if the truck was going to barrel straight through the horde of Skulls.

A crack of lightning split the sky. Thunder followed; closer this time.

To Kara’s surprise, the Skulls parted for the truck, meandering away. A couple snapped or growled at it, but the Hybrids in the watchtowers managed to keep them in line. Cultists within the facility unlocked the gate and manually pulled the big chain-link fence back, making room for the truck’s entrance.

The vehicle’s engine grumbled as it drove inside to park near several other trucks just like it between a couple of semitrailer trucks. More armed cultists flooded out of the building at the truck’s arrival. They waved the passengers off the truck bed and toward the front doors of the facility.

That was when Kara saw him. Colorado Singer. He was at the front door, greeting each new arrival as if they were long-lost family members, his sword hanging over his back, long strands of hair draped over his shoulder. He smiled at them from under his beard.

She couldn’t imagine how this guy could look so friendly, act so welcoming, and then orchestrate the violence she’d seen in Little Orleans. Or even worse, puppeteer the spread of the blight.

Kara heard the patter of footfalls behind her. Rosie was rushing toward her. When she saw Kara looking her way, she beckoned Kara to follow her back to Caleb’s side.

“What’s going on?” Kara asked.

“We got two more vehicles headed this way,” Caleb said.

Kara scoped the incoming pickups. At first, she assumed the trucks were with the cultists, but she noticed one of them had a blown tire. The rubber had been worn away, and now sparks flared from the wheel grinding over the asphalt.

“Why would they drive on that?” Caleb asked.

Then the answer became clear. A group of Skulls gave chase, plates rattling. The second pickup was limping on a couple of flats. Smoke poured out of the hood. Kara spotted a bullet hole near the front fender. Probably pierced the radiator. One of the headlights had been shot out too.

Then she scoped the windshield. A man driving one of the pickups. Between him and a woman were a pair of kids. In the second truck, she noted another kid, maybe six, between a couple Kara presumed were his parents.

“This is terrible timing,” Kara muttered.

When it rained, it really did pour. The thunderstorm exploded, the lightning bright enough to make the town look like daylight had suddenly descended on it. Thunder rumbled through her core, reverberating in her bones.

“Looks like they ran into a spell of bad luck, and then those Skulls found ‘em,” Caleb said.

“No kidding,” Kara said, mind already going into overdrive. “They probably heard the Children’s truck. Decided they’d follow it to safety.”

“They aren’t going to find safety there,” Rosie said, using her chin to indicate the general direction of the supply depot. “I saw what they did to strangers before.” A shiver snuck through her. The first droplets of rain began smacking against the roof. “They’ll kill them. Even the kids.”

“Shit,” Kara muttered.

The trucks were gaining. More lightning and thunder burst through the sky. It seemed like the gods themselves were at war.

Kara had been faced with a decision like this before. It was why she’d left the Hunters.

She and her dad had been out in the field with a few others. They’d been on a high-value target extraction operation. A senator’s kids had been kidnapped by a group of raiders who’d told the senator if he got the military or police involved, they would kill his kids. They were demanding money to fund their group. Apparently, they’d been ransacking civilian targets throughout Maine, building up a violent militia.

The senator had called upon the Hunters, hoping they could act with discretion. He’d paid them handsomely enough. But Dom had been even more motivated by what the senator had warned the Hunters about the group. Over two-hundred deaths had already been attributed to their activities.

He and the Hunters had hit the militias’ coastal compound at night during a violent Nor’easter. The brief gunfight had been fierce and decisive as they took the militia unaware. It had been risky but ultimately successful. The Hunters had found far more hostages than just the senator’s kids. There were nearly thirty people who had been imprisoned by the militia, ranging from hostages being used for ransoms to others forced into awful, indentured servitude.

The Hunters hadn’t planned on rescuing that many people. They simply didn’t have enough room on the Zodiacs. So they stole a few of the militia’s vehicles, planning to drive far enough north to escape the thrashing winds of the Nor’easter for a helicopter pickup. Their plans were unfolding perfectly until the sounds of the battle attracted the nearby Skulls. The beasts had rolled over what remained of the raiders’ population.

Dom had done his best to keep the rescued hostages safe. But one couple, a young woman in a pink sweatshirt and a young man in a camouflage jacket, who couldn’t have been older than seventeen, got spooked. They ran through the torrential rain, sprinting away from the Hunters as the team battled the incoming Skull hordes.

Kara wanted to run after that couple. But Dom had told her not to. That they had to focus on those lives they could protect. She said she could split off on her own, stop the couple from making a huge mistake, and meet up with the Hunters in time to get a ride out of there.

But Dom had told her absolutely not. Had insisted she stay with the rest of the group cutting the Skull horde down, protecting the other prisoners.

Kara couldn’t help but steal a glance back at the couple. Back toward where they’d run. She’d seen a few Skulls peel away from the pack, to hunt the pair. The hunting Skulls and the couple disappeared in the rain.

It wasn’t until they’d made it back to their ship and debriefed with their handler, Elias Thornfield, days later that she’d found out the fate of the two runners. Thornfield had sent some of his people to investigate the militia’s compound, ensuring they had confiscated the weapons the group had abandoned and that no one sought to take their place. Kara saw pictures of the compound and the aftermath of the battle. The bodies of Skulls and militia members alike littered the ground. And then, she’d seen one image that still haunted her.

A woman in a dingy pink sweatshirt and a man in a shredded camouflage jacket. The bodies had been torn open by Skulls, their faces turned to ribbons. Kara recognized them only because of their clothes.

They hadn’t made it all that far from the compound. Kara was even more sure she could’ve rescued them. Stopped them from such a gruesome death. But her father insisted that in the field, sometimes you had to make difficult decisions. Sometimes you did what was best for the mission, for the greater good, despite the cost.

Kara had disagreed that leaving that couple had been the right decision. Try as she might, she never could get the image of that couple, hacked down far too early, out of her mind. She couldn’t stay on the ship any longer. She had to save those that couldn’t be saved because it wasn’t the right decision for the mission.

And now, here she was, faced with that dilemma once more. She knew the most logical choice was to stay put on the roof. That running down there, trying to kill off the Skulls, was a surefire way of risking her life before the mission even started. Her main objective was supporting the Hunters. Providing surveillance.

Shit.

Rosie could do that.

Kara snatched her sat phone out of her pack and thrust it at Rosie. “Stay here. Keep watch. Caleb, you want to help those people?”

Caleb looked between Rosie and her. She could see the internal conflict driving a wedge through the middle of his brain. But he hesitated for only a couple seconds. “Looks like we don’t have much time,” he said, already running for the stairs down to the ground level.

-43-

Dom knelt at the bow of the Zodiac. Lightning spread its skeletal fingers through the sky as if trying to grasp the whole world in its claws. A wave of tremendous thunder hit Dom next, threatening to suck the air from his lungs.

Rain fell over them in a relentless downpour, smacking against the gunwale of the boats. Ahead, Bravo team’s boat was barely visible in the screen of rain. They took a bend in the river as Meredith guided the ship deftly around a pair of small tree-filled islands. The current swelled with the rainwater. Logs floated toward them like organic torpedoes.

Rivulets of muddy water fed the river from around tall oaks and pines lining the riverside. Rory and Rachel were posted at either side of the Zodiac, kneeling just inside the gunwales. Each clutched their M4s over their chest. Even as the boat rocked and bounced over the waves, they remained steadfast as they watched for anything in the river that might foul their engine, constantly calling out to Meredith.

Dom surveyed the banks ahead. His fatigues were soaked, clinging tightly to his skin. The temperature had dropped by a good ten degrees. Freezing rain and powerful gusts of wind slashed over him, but it wasn’t just the cold that set his skin prickling in goose bumps.

His teams weren’t the only ones headed upriver tonight.

Skulls raced alongside them. Some screeched and roared at the boats. Every time the motors picked up in volume, the beasts cried back as if challenging a primal enemy to blood combat. At first, Dom had counted more Skulls alongside the river than he’d seen in the past few months. It seemed the beasts had thoroughly dominated the reclaimed wilderness in this part of Pennsylvania.

Worse, it made him think that the overall population of beasts was growing. Maybe survivors had tried to turn the surrounding devastation back into the livable neighborhoods they knew before the Tide. They succeeded only in falling victim to the Oni Agent, becoming the very thing they had fought to survive.

Dom eyed one Skull that ran at a crooked hunch. Water sluiced between its horns and over its plate-covered body. Pieces of soiled and torn denim clung to its waist and thighs. The remnants of a leather jacket were tangled over the monster’s arms. Not far from this creature was another that had scraps of cloth hanging from its torso and over the hip bones protruding from its skin. Dom guessed those rotting banners of fabric had once been part of a dress.

Many of the other Skulls bore elements of their former humanity. Some had ballistic helmets, chin straps frayed but hanging on, plate carriers dangling over their chests as if the beasts didn’t already have enough armor. Others had on backpacks, or their talons had grown out of their shoes.

Dom was used to seeing Skulls that were essentially naked except for their bony growths. Clothes tended to fall apart quite quickly under the abusive duress of a Skull’s lifestyle. Beasts with clothing like the ones along the river couldn’t have been transformed for a full decade. They had to be recent.

Which made Dom worry that America’s continued progress, even if the mission tonight was successful, would be far bumpier than he’d anticipated. Despite the progress he thought they’d been making, the apocalypse had a way of lingering, of slowly boiling civilization alive.

Some Skulls threw themselves into the water, trying desperately to come after the Hunters. Mostly, they simply sank, their heavy armor dragging them beneath the current.

But the river was growing narrower ahead.

All it took was one of these beasts making a running leap into their craft from the shore. He hadn’t wanted to start firing on these creatures so early in the mission. Gunfire had a way of attracting more of the monstrosities—and even suppressed weapons weren’t silent. Their gunshots would warn the Children of Kusanagi of their arrival far in advance. As much as they could, their strategy so far had been to simply outrun the beasts.

He counted ten Skulls successfully shadowing their craft now. Another six following Bravo’s team, upriver by about twenty yards.

A blast of lightning and thunder burst through the sky again. The hammering of the rain against the river and the craft were nearly deafening on their own. The storm should provide some cover for their gunfire.

Another Skull flung itself at Alpha’s Zodiac. The creature’s claws stretched out, nearly reaching the hull when it splashed into the rain-pebbled river surface.

That was it.

“Open fire on those Skulls,” Dom said over the comms.

Shots rang out in a piercing volley. Rounds lanced through the Skull’s bodies. Bone plates exploded from the impacts. Impaling rounds shattered demonic masks. The monsters tumbled or skidded in the mud, their bodies riddled with fresh bullet holes. Mud splashed up around them. Some fell into the river, sinking below the surface. Others were carried by momentum into trees, crashing into the bark with heavy thuds.

Dom sighted up a new target darting toward the boat. This one came trampling through the shallows. And to Dom’s horror, it didn’t sink. They were now in a part of the river where the depths were mere feet, even with the downpour. The monster made it halfway toward the boat, the water rushing around its abdomen.

Three shots blasted through its chest. Dom kept his rifle aimed at the beast as it staggered forward. But the wounds had been devastating enough that the current finished the job, sweeping the monster away when it collapsed.

Another flash of lightning ripped apart the sky.

The blazing white penetrated the forest along the river’s edge, and a cold ball of dread settled in Dom’s guts.

As the shadows of the forest were dispersed, dozens of skeletal-faced monsters were illuminated. All raced toward the boats, intent on stopping the Hunters before they ever even made it close to the Children’s supply depot.

He could no longer afford speeding past this horde.

“Weapons free,” Dom said.

The suppressed chatter of rifles echoed over the river. Muzzle flashes sparked from Rachel and Rory’s weapons. Dom signaled for Meredith to full speed ahead. She gestured that she was trying.

Waves splashed over the prow of the Zodiac. The shallow river grew more violent, spraying and frothing between rocky outcroppings and stubborn trees whose roots snaked into the shallows. Skulls came pouring from the forest. Foamy waves slapped around them as they ran at the boat.

Dom tried to fire on the beasts running from upriver, headed right at the front of the craft. He squeezed the trigger, watched his target drop, then adjusted his aim as quickly as he could. But it seemed like they’d woken a whole hornet’s nest of Skulls. He had to skip his second step. Instead of ensuring a monster fell after shooting, he was forced to move straight to another target.

“Changing!” Rory called out from behind him.

Lightning struck the forest not far from the river. A tree exploded in a blast of light and flying bark. Skulls howled as if in response. Meredith had one hand on the throttle, and in her other, she held her Glock, firing at the beasts who got too close to the rear of the boat. It seemed far more Skulls were following them than they’d killed.

That wasn’t the type of invading force Dom wanted to lead into the supply depot.

Suddenly, a beast flashed in from their portside. It rose from the waves and darkness, its claws cutting into Rachel’s tac vest. The beast split open one of her magazine pouches. Two magazines tipped out, splashing as they disappeared into the inky water. The monster yanked on Rachel to pull her overboard.

Dom grabbed the back of Rachel’s tac vest, tugging her back into the boat. The heavy beast struggled to keep up, its claws stuck in Rachel’s vest, but it fumbled after the seacraft. Then it tripped over itself, its whole body dragging into the water. Rachel had to let her rifle fall on its harness as she gripped the rope around the gunwale, preventing herself from being dragged over the side.

Rory was yelling as he tried to keep the other Skulls back with salvo after salvo. Meredith had spent her pistol’s magazine but couldn’t reload while hoping to maintain the Zodiac’s speed.

Dom used his boots, pressing them beneath the inflatable hull, levering himself against the drag of the Skull.

“I got you, Rachel!” he called. “Take the Skull!”

She nodded, letting go of the rope around the gunwale. Without her help, Dom had to bear the full weight of Rachel and the struggling beast. All the while other monsters barreled toward them, lightning flashing behind them.

With one hand, she drew her pistol. She used her other to pry the monster’s claws from her vest. She pressed her gun up to the creature’s face. This close, she couldn’t miss. One bullet was all it took, ripping through the Skull’s orbital cavity, gore flying. Its head snapped back. Rachel finished prying the dead beast’s claws from her vest. The mutated corpse was left behind as they raced ahead, Rachel breathing heavily.

Dom didn’t have time to ask her if she was okay. Instead, he raised his rifle, warding off a few stubborn beasts reaching for the craft. He stole a moment to see how Bravo was doing ahead. Shots burst from their rifles like miniature lightning strikes. Each one tore into the ranks of Skulls ahead. They were keeping most of the beasts from reaching them as Dom and the rest of Alpha dealt with the stragglers.

But not every shot was fatal. Sometimes they merely injured the Skulls, buying themselves seconds. Those Skulls that weren’t killed joined the others limping and lurching after them downriver.

They had accumulated a posse of damn near thirty or forty beasts by now. More were gaining on them. Even if they managed to hit a clear straightaway again, even if they left the monsters in their dust, he didn’t want all these creatures catching up on their rear flank when they got to the supply depot.

Dom didn’t want the team to waste any more ammunition either. They hadn’t even gotten to their destination. Going into battle against hostiles after expending half their ammunition in this river fray was not the way to start their mission.

Another explosive blast of thunder pounded Dom’s ears. When the rumbling settled, he called Andris over the comms.

“Andris, take care of the Skulls following us. You know what to do.”

Bravo’s boat fell back alongside Alpha’s. They raced side by side for a few seconds. The Skulls coming at them from the forest had slowed to a trickle. Most of the beasts were now pursuing them in a vicious horde, splashing through the shallow water.

The Skulls had certainly gotten smarter over the years. But they weren’t smart enough to deal with Andris’s particular medicine. The Latvian man bit off two lengths of detonation cord in his teeth. He secured them to a pair of explosive packages he’d whipped together.

“Fire in the hole!” Andris called.

He pitched the explosives out, one after the other. They hit the water, disappearing beneath the trampling Skulls. A second passed before the first blast erupted. Mud and rock and water geysered up out of the river in a horrifying bloom of Skull limbs and heads. Those that had survived the first blast continued as a rain of blood and body parts landed around them. They soon vanished in another reverberating explosion, water disappearing from the riverbed for a moment.

Only a few straggling Skulls survived, pelted by pieces of their brethren. They went down with concerted blasts from a couple of the Hunters.

Lightning and thunder accompanied the final gunshots.

When there were no more Skulls following them, Andris clapped his hands together, hooting over the pounding rain. “You have no idea how long I have waited to do that!” he called.

Only the occasional Skull tried to ambush them from the riverside as they barreled ahead, dodging rocks and fallen trees. While Dom had thought initially the storm would make their mission more difficult—and it might yet—at least it had provided cover for Andris’s explosive measures.

Maybe, if they were lucky, even if the Children of Kusanagi heard those blasts, the enemy would write it off as thunder. They were nearly to Harrisburg. It was only a matter of minutes now before they would begin the real invasion.

And that was when he felt the sat phone buzzing. He’d brought it to follow up with Kara when they got closer.

“Kara?” he answered, cupping it so he could hear over the rain.

“It’s not Kara. It’s Rosie.”

“Rosie?”

“Yeah. Kara told me the Children have at least thirty armed people along with eight different Hybrids. There are maybe two hundred Skulls around the supply depot.”

“Okay, but why isn’t Kara telling me herself?”

“She’s not on the roof anymore,” Rosie said.

“Where the hell is she?”

“She and Caleb left to save a couple of families. But that’s not the problem. I think the Children heard their gunfire. They’re sending armed people into the streets around the depot. Kara’s going to need your help.”

-44-

Kara raced down the street, waving madly at the first pickup truck. Its windshield wipers looked like they were going to fly off. They could barely clear the incessant rain from the glass. As she tried to flag down the driver, tried to get them from racing headlong into a death trap, Caleb’s rifle barked to life again.

Already, they’d killed a handful of the Skulls chasing after the pickups. But more followed. The first truck could barely keep up its earlier pace. It swerved side to side, the shredded tires offering no traction over the rain-soaked roads.

“Stop!” Kara yelled as they approached.

She took one glance behind her. The supply depot was just out of sight, around the corner from the self-storage facility. But if the trucks made it to the end of the street, right into that intersection, then the Children of Kusanagi would undoubtedly see them. If the Children didn’t end the fleeing people with a wave of fire, then the Skulls would most certainly take them down, covering the two trucks in seconds, battering the glass until they tore apart the passengers inside.

“Stop!” Kara yelled again.

They had to see her now. The lead pickup had two working headlights, and Kara was fully bathed in their illumination now.

“Please, stop!”

But the truck didn’t. Instead, she saw the driver struggling to control the vehicle. It fishtailed, sparks flying from the front wheel with the shredded tire. The truck swerved hard to the right, veering away from Kara. Suddenly it swerved back toward her. She dashed out of the way as the rain-slicked roads sent the truck slamming right into the brick wall of the self-storage unit. The windshield exploded from the impact, steam billowing from the crumpled hood.

“Shit!”

A couple of Skulls barreled through the rain in Kara’s direction. She lifted her rifle, fired. Her rifle bucked against her shoulder with each blast. Gunfire lanced through the Skulls’ armor, peppering their chests.

The second truck squealed to a stop, its single headlight coming to rest over the crashed truck. The driver got out. Rain soaked through the thirty-something-year-old man. Pistol in hand, he turned toward the Skulls, firing. But his shots were wild, sparking over the asphalt and spearing off into the night.

Kara strode toward him as she levied another barrage at the Skulls.

“We’ve got to follow that truck!” the man said. “We got to go after them!”

“That’s not where you’re going to find safety,” Kara said. “They’ll kill you.”

He looked confused for a second. Water matted down his dark hair, and he blinked to clear the rain from his eyes. Kara glanced at the boy in the middle seat of the pickup, his face contorted in terror. The woman inside the truck cab on the boy’s other side had a shotgun.

Caleb’s rifle cracked out again. Muzzle fire flashed as he brought down a couple more Skulls rushing down the street.

“We’ve got to get off the road,” Kara said.

“But the Children!” he said. “They took our sister and younger brother! They’re in that truck! We were going after them, trying to tell her she was making a mistake, and then they opened fire on us!”

Kara had misread the situation entirely. “You were going to chase after them with your kids?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” the guy said, “but then we ran into Skulls, too, and—”

“You panicked,” Kara said. “You can’t follow the Children. They’ll kill you. Those weren’t just warning shots they fired at you.”

“But I—”

“If you want your boy to live, you’ll listen to me.”

Caleb’s rifle continued to bark out into the night. Four more Skulls fell. But they still had five going after them. Kara sprayed a burst of rounds into the closest, no more than twenty yards away.

“We have to move! Quick!” She ushered the boy out. The woman with the shotgun followed. “Help me with your friends!”

“It’s my brother and his family!” the guy shouted over the rain.

“Whatever! We need to get them out of here!”

Kara made it to the truck cab. The two kids were crying, both younger than the boy from the other pickup. The woman had a hunting rifle in her hand, and the driver, a guy in his early forties, had blood dripping from a gruesome gash in his forehead. He was staring straight ahead, dazed. Shit.

“Kara!” a voice shouted.

She looked around.

“Kara!”

It took another couple of seconds before she realized it was someone shouting her name from above. Rosie leaned over the edge of the rooftop.

“They’re coming, Kara! The Children are sending Skulls out into the streets! They heard the gunfire!”

Another rumbling crescendo of thunder drowned out whatever else Rosie was trying to say, but the message was clear. Kara needed to get these people to safety. She thought briefly about sending them running back through town, racing away from the supply depot, but if they’d already encountered one pack of Skulls, they would undoubtedly meet more. They didn’t seem like they’d be able to handle it. Not in their current state.

“Help your brother,” she said to the first man.

He opened the driver’s side door then guided his brother out. The woman managed to herd her two crying children out the other door. They followed her around the crashed truck to the driver’s side where Kara was. Caleb still had his rifle pointed down the street now littered with Skull bodies. No other creatures lurched out of the darkness. But with the rainfall increasing, visibility was quickly going out the window.

The rain didn’t drown out the piercing hunting cries coming from the supply depot. Kara’s heart climbed up into her throat. The Children were sending the beasts that had been swarming around the depot out into the surrounding area. They meant to flush out anyone encroaching on their territory.

With one pickup out of commission and the other looking like it had only a hundred feet to go before it exploded, they weren’t driving out of here. The family that had crashed couldn’t just run either.

No, the only way they survived for the next few minutes was hiding.

“Rosie, meet us at the bottom of the stairs!” Kara yelled.

Rosie gave her a nod then disappeared beyond the edge of the roof.

An ear-splitting howl sounded from the end of the street closest to the supply depot. A Skull stood in the rain. Its body was little more than a silhouette in the darkness, misshapen and distorted by the Oni Agent. While she couldn’t get a good glimpse of the beast, it had no problem homing in on them—or at least the trucks. The monster ran their way, talons tapping raucously on the asphalt. Three more beasts burst around the corner after.

“Hurry!” Kara shouted over the rain. “Caleb, cover us!”

Caleb hung back at the rear of their haggard group. Kara led them around the corner of the self-storage facility to the glass door that Rosie had propped open.

“In, now!” Kara said.

She stood in the rain as the family filed past her, practically dragging themselves into the building.

The little girl shrieked. “There’s one!”

Kara whipped around. Another Skull had prowled around from the other side of the building. It stood tall in the downpour as lightning cut the sky. The flash of light caught on every mottled, bony surface. The creature let out a wailing cry as it lunged. Kara fired instinctively. Her rifle fire strobed through the rain. Bullets smashed through the creature’s abdomen, and the monster twisted. Rain washed the blood over the beast’s legs as it stumbled toward Kara.

She raised her rifle up at the beast’s face. Then she fired again, rounds blasting through its cranium. Bone and tissue sprayed out the exit wound.

As the beast crumpled, three more appeared from around the corner.

“Caleb, let’s go!” Kara cried.

He turned from where he’d been holding Skulls from the other side at bay.

Together, they retreated through the door. Rosie shut it behind them as they left puddles in the lobby of the facility. Beasts piled up around the windows and door, pounding at every surface. They pressed their fanged mouths up to the glass, looking like animals at a zoo haplessly trying to devour a curious onlooker.

One of the beasts threw its bone shoulder against the window. A crack fissured through the glass. All three children shrieked.

“We’ve got to hide,” Kara said. “Upstairs. Now!”

She guided them up. The steps were made all the more slick thanks to the water dripping off their clothes. Kara nearly slipped a couple of times, forced to grab the handrail so she didn’t go tumbling back down.

As they rounded the stairs up to the third floor, breaking glass sounded from below. Talons clicked over the tiled floor. Growls echoed up the stairwell.

“This way,” Caleb said in a low voice, leading the group.

Kara kept her rifle pointed behind them. Watching. Waiting for the first creature to come up after them.

But they made it to the rows of storage units without incident.

“Where to?” Caleb asked.

The growls and shrieks grew louder. Now there was no doubt at least some of the monsters were headed up the stairs. They had nowhere to go. Not really. There was another stairwell at the opposite end of the corridor. It opened up right across from the Children of Kusanagi’s supply depot.

“Follow me,” Kara said.

The best place to hide was in one of the big storage units. Kara lifted the rolling door of an empty ten-by-twenty-foot unit, gesturing for everyone to get inside. She ducked after them then gently lowered the door.

Caleb, Kara, and Rosie helped the family settle in using flashlights Caleb and Kara had in their packs. The children shrank into their parents’ arms.

“Check out his wound,” Kara said to Caleb, indicating the forty-some year-old man.

The gash in his forehead hadn’t stopped bleeding. Kara had also noticed lacerations on the children and wife. Caleb talked softly to them all as he took first aid supplies from his pack. He set about examining and cleaning their wounds, putting his acquired medic skills to good use.

Kara waited near the door, pressing her ear against the metal. Talons tapped over the floor down the corridor. She heard low growls and sniffing. There were probably four or five Skulls out there. All delving through the halls, searching for their lost prey.

She tried to hold her breath as she monitored their progress. Water continued to drip from her clothes, a puddle forming around her boots. They’d left a trail out there. Eventually, the Skulls would sniff them out. With one hand, she motioned for Rosie.

The woman joined her.

“You still got my sat phone?” she asked, and Rosie nodded. “Good,” Kara said. “If anything happens—”

“Are you leaving us?”

“Rosie, just listen. If anything happens, you call my dad again. You tell him what’s going on and where you all are hiding. If everything goes as planned, he’ll come back for you.” She hoped, anyway. But she didn’t say that. “Otherwise, you guys don’t leave until you hear everything quiet down out there.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not yet. But I just need to know you understand.” She eyed Caleb as he applied another bandage to the younger boy. “Got it?”

“Yes. I got it.”

“If I do leave, no matter what you hear, you don’t come out after me. Okay?”

Rosie said nothing.

“Okay?”

Rosie finally nodded.

Kara moved over to the first man she’d met coming out of the truck. “What’s your name?”

“Dennis.”

“Your brother’s name?”

Dennis nodded at the man Caleb was tending to. “Luke.”

“How about your brother and sister? The ones with the Children?”

“You going after them?”

“I know people who might. What are their names?”

“Uh, Angela and Rich.”

“We’ve got friends going in to search that facility. If they can find your siblings, they will.”

“Thank you. Thank you.”

Kara left the guy’s side and waited by the door as the Skulls clicked by. Then came the long scrape of bones against metal. They were either dragging their claws over the metal doors, or the bulky plates along their shoulders were scraping against them.

She thought two creatures had passed them by now.

Then another clomped toward the storage unit. It paused. She could hear its heavy sniffing. The odor of the beast seeped around the rolling door, making Kara’s eyes water. She held her breath and hoped it would just continue on like the others.

But it didn’t seem to be moving. Instead, it dragged a clawed hand over the door, an ear-splitting scraping sounding through the door. It let out a wet growl.

A couple seconds later, its heavy footsteps stomped away from them. Kara had to remind herself not to let out a long sigh of relief.

It didn’t matter.

A sudden loud clang banged through the door. The beast must’ve slammed a fist against it. One of the children yelped in surprise.

All hell broke loose.

The beast attacked the door ravenously, hammering at it. Another monster howled through the facility, its loud footsteps pounding over the concrete. A second loud, metallic bang shook the whole door as if a third beast threw itself at it. Small dents formed in the metal slats. The door tremored with every devastating blow.

Kara signaled for the family to be quiet. The parents hoisted their weapons as if they were ready to make their last stand. Kara hoped that if the group was quiet enough, the beasts would give up.

But the door kept quaking. The beasts kept growling and shrieking. Their clamor would draw even more of the insatiable creatures up to the third floor. Any more Skulls, and the monsters would undoubtedly tear the door down—and then that would be the end for Kara’s attempt to save these people.

She couldn’t just sit here and let the monsters barge in. She had to execute her backup plan. Act now or else deal with the terrible consequences of waiting.

“Everyone, quiet,” she whispered, straining to be understood over the rotten din.

Then she yanked up the door just enough to roll under. The three Skulls banging against the door barely had time to turn around. She whipped the first in the face with her rifle. It staggered backward, flecks of blood spraying from the impact. That gave her just enough time to fire a point-blank shot into the second’s face.

She scrabbled backward, her wet boots sliding around on the puddle-covered floor. The two surviving Skulls came scraping after her. She waited to fire, leading them to the opposite end of the hall.

“Come on, you ugly assholes!” she yelled.

They ran after her. Other Skulls that had been hunting on the third floor joined the pursuit, scrambling and slipping over the slick floors. Kara dragged them all toward the stairwell leading to the second floor. She raced down it to the next set of indoor storage units. Beasts filed into the second floor after her, every one of them whipped up in an unquenchable rage.

She fired on the monsters, one after the other. They tripped over the corpses of their dead brethren, practically throwing themselves on her weapon.

Until one by one, she’d killed all the monsters that had chased her.

Other cries echoed out into the night. She heard even more monsters on the first floor. She needed to lead them away from this place. But to where?

That was when she looked out the window, glancing across the road to the supply depot. Most of the Skulls had indeed dispersed from around the facility.

Strobing lights came from around its perimeter. At first, she thought it was another rash of lightning, but when the thunder and lightning did explode, she saw a sight she’d been waiting all night for. The flashing lights were from gunfire.

The Hunters had arrived.

-45-

Dom ran through a parking lot filled with abandoned vehicles toward the Children of Kusanagi supply depot. Mud splattered behind him and his team with every pounding footstep. They’d taken their Zodiacs all the way up a tributary leading to the Susquehanna, putting them right on the edge of Mechanicsburg. Between the rumbling thunder and patter of rain, Dom had heard the distant howls of Skulls. From Rosie’s warning, he knew the bloodcurdling sounds of the creatures were coming from the horde around the facility.

He paused behind an old Toyota sedan that had burned to a husk at some point. Rain splattered over its roof and hood. He used his NVGs to get a better view of the supply depot’s defenses. Sure enough, most of the Skulls had dispersed. Some lingered around the facility, but many stalked the neighboring streets and parking lots or trampled through the overgrown grass growing between buildings.

While Alpha had made their approach from the south, Miguel’s team had already encountered resistance on the eastern side.

“We’ve got Skulls and cultists,” Miguel reported between belabored breaths. “They’re firing from all over inside that facility. Two hostiles down in the watchtowers, but at least two more in each from our guesses.”

“Keep pressing on them,” Dom said.

He signaled for Rachel and Rory to leapfrog ahead as he provided cover. So far, the enemy had been too distracted by Bravo to realize Alpha was biting at their fences from the southern approach. Just the way Dom liked it.

Meredith joined him at the sedan.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll cover.”

She ran between the vehicles. Dom aimed his scope up at one of the southern-facing watchtowers. Sure enough, a body dangled from it, the top half of a Hybrid hanging over the side of the platform.

Two more people were in the tower, kneeling. One aimed a rifle toward the east. Another was speaking into a radio, facing south. The person suddenly stood, pointing to Meredith’s direction.

Dom took the shot.

“One more down in the watchtower,” he reported.

The other guard in the tower adjusted their aim, swiveling to see who had just killed their comrade.

Another shot cracked out into the night.

“Got him,” Rory said.

The guard fell over the side of the platform, body hitting the ground with a loud, wet thud.

“Watchtower clear,” Dom called.

Dom sprinted for his next position up near Meredith. While he settled in behind a broken-down SUV with tires that hadn’t held air in years, a few Skulls raced toward Rachel and Rory. The duo fired out from their position. They’d had no choice, but that only resulted in attracting more nearby Skulls.

“We need to get through that fence now!” Dom shouted over the comms.

He rushed to find a new position where he could better cover Rachel and Rory. While they cut down the Skulls descending on them, Dom spotted new faces appearing over the top of the supply depot. Cultists with Skull masks and weapons peered over the side. They opened fire in a brutal salvo. From the sounds of their shots, Dom guessed they had everything from shotguns to hunting rifles. They were not conservative in their use of ammunition. Nor did they seem like particularly skilled shots.

But the sheer volume of gunfire meant Dom had to figure out how to make his way around a veritable wall of lead. His team was going to quickly become pinned down on two fronts, by man and beast.

With the enemies having the advantage of an entrenched position and higher numbers, he had to move fast.

“Meredith, cover me!” he called. “Rachel, Rory, focus on the Skulls!”

Meredith laid down a heavy barrage. Bullets chipped the edge of the roof, driving back several of the cultists. Dom ran toward the ten-foot-high razor-wire-topped fence just beneath the roof. He slid into position behind the wooden planks surrounding it.

While the wood and the chain-link fence wouldn’t protect him from bullets, it would shield him from the cultists’ line of sight. Shots tore overhead in a relentless storm. So far, it seemed he hadn’t been spotted. Skulls shrieked and wailed, descending on his team’s positions.

He unclipped the bolt cutters from his pack. Link by link, he cut away a section of the chain-link fence. There was still the matter of the wooden plank reinforcing the other side, but first, he snatched a pair of stun grenades from his belt. He pulled the pins, one after the other, throwing them as hard as he could up to the roof.

“Grenades out!”

Turning away and covering his ears, he heard the loud pop of the grenades. He backed up slightly, his boots slopping around in the mud, then threw himself as hard as he could at the planks behind the chain-link fence. Boards ripped away when he shouldered into them.

“We’re through, Alpha! Go, go, go!” He pressed himself flat against the wall of the facility as Rachel, Rory, and Meredith sprinted in. The four of them were faced with an impenetrable wall. Only a few windows and doors punctuated the brick.

Two stories above, most of the hostile forces would still be reeling from their temporary blindness and deafness. Dom’s initial plan had been to infiltrate the facility quietly, sneaking through and securing the place, wing by wing.

But like many good battle plans, his own hadn’t survived contact with the cultists or the Skulls.

While they had lost the benefit of stealth, they still had speed on their side. Alpha spread out as Dom signaled them toward one of the doors along the wall. Meredith led the charge, Rachel and Rory on rear guard this time.

Skulls barreled at them, drawn by the flash and pop of the stun grenades.

“All watchtowers on the eastern flank clear,” Miguel reported.

“Southside clear,” Dom reported. “Alpha has breached the southern fence.”

“Copy that, Chief. We’re entering through the eastern gate.”

With three of the watchtowers out of commission, it left only the single watchtower on the northwestern corner of the base. If there were only one or two Hybrids left, they would have a difficult time controlling the riled-up Skull horde. Which meant this was quickly going to turn into a three-sided battle. While the Children of Kusanagi might not be prepared for the sudden implosion of monsters, the Hunters had been born and bred in chaos. Thrived in it.

Meredith settled into position.

“Set a breaching charge,” Dom called to her.

He kept his rifle aimed up at the roof, waiting for the first cultist to pop over the edge and attempt to hose them down with lead. Rachel and Rory continued to thin the Skulls’ numbers as beasts trickled through the hole Dom had cut in the fence. Other monsters scrambled over the fence. The chain-link and plywood barrier shook under the weight. Some creatures got stuck in the razor wire, thrashing about, ripping out chunks of their flesh to get free.

Despite the threat of the Skulls and the blaring sirens, Meredith remained calm, pressing the pliable explosive putty onto the sealed metal door. She molded it into the cracks with steady fingers. This had to be done just right.

Then she pulled a detonator out to its full length, winding it back and packing it deep into the putty.

A couple of cultists who had recovered from their stupor looked over the roof’s edge. Dom heard them shout and take aim at Meredith. They weren’t quick enough.

He hit one square in the chest with a pair of shots. The guy fell backward onto the roof. The second one dropped forward when Dom sent bullets cracking through his Skull mask. The man’s body smacked against the asphalt just a couple yards from Meredith.

She didn’t even give the guy a second glance. Just set the timer and primed the detonator. The charge was good to go.

“Fire in the hole!” she shouted, rising swiftly and rushing away from the explosives.

She threw herself flat on the ground. Dom again covered his ears and turned away. Farther back, closer to the hole in the fence, Rachel and Rory had their backs against the wall. An eruption of fire and noise rocked the building as the door exploded off its hinges. Before the smoke even cleared, Meredith was moving through the entrance, weapon ready.

Dom signaled for Rachel and Rory to enter next. He provided cover, firing up at the cultists that dared monitor their movements. Another cultist took a hit in his shoulder and gut. He slid forward, dropping over the side of the roof.

Dom ran toward the open door. Smoke continued to pour out. Shouts and gunfire erupted inside. A screech sounded from behind him, and he twisted just in time to launch a fusillade at a pair of demented creatures worming through the razor wire at the top of the fence. Their bodies went slack, stuck in the wire, balancing precariously on the fence.

That was when he saw another shape on the far end of the building. Someone ran toward him, weapon in hand.

He was preparing to adjust his aim when he heard them shouting.

They weren’t firing in his direction. Instead, they twisted around, shooting at a group of Skulls bounding after them. The screaming roars of the beasts drowned out whatever they were yelling at him. This person wasn’t trying to shoot him down. And as the gears in his head turned, he had a wild guess who it might be. He raised his weapon to his shoulder and sent a staccato burst of bullets cleaving through the Skulls chasing after the individual.

Even through his NVGs, he knew he’d been right.

“Dad!” she yelled.

For a brief moment, despite the Skulls in the fences, he wanted to drop his weapon and wrap her up in a hug. With the cultists above, the monsters on every other side, and the rest of Alpha beginning to infiltrate the supply depot, he didn’t have time.

“Follow me!” he called.

There would be time for explanations and reunions later. They just had to survive long enough.

-46-

Miguel covered Andris as the former French Foreign Legionnaire ran between the semitrailers to get to a set of steel doors. Jenna and Glenn hammered the Skulls chasing them with precise bursts of fire. Skull corpses lay all around the gates the team had cut their way through. A few cultists were sprawled around the foot of the watchtowers, and bullets riddled many of the trucks parked in the wide lot in front of the supply depot.

One of those semis provided Miguel shelter as he sighted up the cultists on the roof. They clearly didn’t have the professional training of the Hunters. It was like fighting homegrown insurgents downrange in Iraq and Afghanistan. The predominant strategy was something like “spray and pray.”

Didn’t seem like a fair fight. He almost felt bad for them.

Then a rash of bullets punched into the hood of the truck. Fluids leaked out, the smell of burning plastic filling the air. The windshield exploded in a spray of crystalline safety glass.

Okay. He didn’t feel that bad for them after all.

“Placing breaching charge,” Andris said.

“Got another horde coming in from the north,” Glenn said. “Better hurry.”

Miguel turned to see what Glenn had spotted. The big former Green Beret was hunkered down beside Jenna near an SUV with tires shot flat and pebbled glass littering the ground.

Monsters climbed over the fence, forcing their way through the razor wire. Many broke legs and ankles when they fell on the other side, bones cracking against the hard pavement. It didn’t stop them from dragging their injured limbs across the parking lot, between the trucks and trailers toward the depot.

Hell, even some of the cultists seemed to realize the monstrosities were no longer their friends but an existential threat. Gunfire lanced out from positions on the roof just beyond Miguel’s line of sight. Bullets zipped and cracked all around the Skulls’ ranks.

Unfortunately, the cultists were not just bad at hitting a human target; they weren’t doing a great job thwarting the Skull menace either. Which meant the noose of Oni Agent–infected beasts was drawing tighter and tighter around the supply depot and Hunters alike.

“Breaching charge ready!” Andris announced.

“Jenna, Glenn, move up!” Miguel ordered.

They leapfrogged past Miguel as gunfire boomed from the supply depot roof, and creatures limped, ran, and shrieked their way across the parking lot.

“On my mark, Andris. Blow the—”

The doors exploded open. People started running out.

“What the fu—” Andris started.

He hadn’t even had a chance to detonate the charges.

Unarmed people trampled past him. Most wore civilian clothes. No Skull masks. No body armor. No tac vests or bandoliers. Just a bunch of normal-looking people rushing into the pouring rain.

“Hold your fire!” Miguel shouted.

Unfortunately, these people didn’t seem to have a plan. Several ran right past Miguel into the parking lot. A couple tried to open one of the semitrailer truck doors. They even made it inside. But didn’t close the door quick enough.

A Skull lunged in after them.

Miguel couldn’t see all that had happened, even with his NVGs. But he heard their screams. Then blood sprayed over the inside of the windshield. “Ah, shit.”

A handful more people ran for the gates. Skulls pounced on them in unbridled hunger. One ripped into a woman’s gut as it knocked her into the ground, pulling at her insides with its teeth and claws. Another man fell back as a creature tore a chunk out of his neck.

Familiar nausea welled up in Miguel. He had seen plenty of such macabre scenes over the years, but that didn’t make them any easier to witness.

“Don’t let them run!” Miguel shouted.

He snagged a woman sprinting past him. She beat at his hands as he pulled her toward him.

“Do you want to die?” he yelled.

She stopped, staring at him in abject terror.

“Good. Neither do I.” He pointed at the Skulls. “Do not go out there. Do not!”

His words finally pierced her panic, and she surveyed the hellish scene. He saw the moment realization clicked in her brain, and she blanched, her skin looking even paler through his NVGs.

“Help me get control of your friends,” Miguel said. “We’ll help you survive.”

“Who are you people?”

“Not a bunch of freaks wearing Skull armor, and we have no interest in eating you. That good enough?”

She pointed up at the cultists on the roof. “They already started shooting people trying to escape. They’ll kill us if we let you help us.”

“Not if we stop them first. Deal?”

The woman hesitated.

“Your options are real limited right now.”

This time, she nodded.

“Herd these people back inside!” Miguel shouted over the comms.

He ushered the woman after him. Walking at a hunch, he fired into the ranks of Skulls tearing toward them. The woman shouted at the other fleeing cultists, telling them to follow her back inside.

Some listened. Others did not.

Jenna and Glenna physically restrained some cultists, forcing them back through the depot’s door. Andris provided constant cover fire. They managed to convince twenty-some cultists to return to the supply depot and out of the rain. Miguel did his best not to count the many that decided to throw their lives away, attempting to escape on their own terms.

This mission was just getting more complicated by the second.

He’d expected to infiltrate the depot, cut through any resistance, and flow through the shadows until they identified their mission target: supplies of Oni Agent–based blight that Andris would then destroy.

They expected to take some people into custody. But not so quickly nor so early in the mission. Already, the number of people they’d encountered surpassed their estimates.

Miguel took a second to survey the distribution center. Huge shelves of crates and cardboard boxes took up much of the space. Past the shelves were enormous stainless steel vats. To Miguel, they looked like fermentation vessels at a brewery. Thanks to his experience with the Hunters, he knew better. The vats were likely where the cultists propagated their supply of blight.

Across the vast space, Miguel spotted bodies bleeding on the floor. There weren’t weapons near any of them.

Gunfire burst across the opposite side of the warehouse, past some of the shelves and big bioreactors. He counted a good six or so hostiles in Skull armor.

“Get down!” he shouted at the civilians. Then to the other Hunters he called, “Hostiles at our twelve!”

They let loose a salvo. Gunfire echoed in the confined space, each shot nearly deafening, rivaling the barrage of thunder outside. Bullets crashed against the walls of the supply depot. Splinters flew from crates hit in the exchange. A couple of the cultist warriors went down in the initial exchange as the others sprinted for better shooting positions.

Miguel knelt beside the woman he’d saved outside. She looked up at him in fear, teeth chattering, big green eyes wide.

“What’s your name?” he shouted over the gunfire.

“An… An… Angela!”

“Angela, I need your help,” he said. “How many guards are in here?”

“I don’t know… Twenty, maybe thirty.”

Miguel guessed some of those guards were up on the roof. Those weren’t entirely unreasonable.

“What about Hybrids?” he asked, wondering if the enemy would try to wrest control of the Skulls again. The screams and shrieks grew louder outside as the battle raged on.

“Hybrids… There are… I mean…” She looked confused.

Miguel let her think, popping up from around some crates. A couple of cultist warriors were running straight toward him. Easy hits.

“How many Hybrids?” Miguel asked again.

“Twenty. Maybe more.”

“We only counted eight outside. Where are the rest?”

Gunfire raged through the warehouse. Skulls hammered on the doors. Not just the doors the group had entered through but also the series of garage doors for loading up semitrailer trucks. The scratch and scrape of their claws as they ascended the walls of the building leaked through.

Miguel could only imagine the monsters climbing up the outside of the supply depot, seeking the prey inside and outside the building. The cultist warriors on top of the roof would soon be in a new skirmish. It might buy the Hunters some time. The cultists would probably fall quickly as the Skulls fought to find a way into the depot.

When the next rash of gunfire subsided, Angela spoke again. “There are more Hybrids inside. They’re in the… the labs.”

“Can you tell me where those labs are?” Miguel asked.

“There’s a lower floor,” she said. “It’s like a huge basement. All the labs and assembly lines are there. That’s where they made people work. That’s where they took us.”

“Understood,” Miguel said. He pointed toward the bioreactors. “Are they manufacturing the blight there?”

“Blight?”

“Do you know what’s in those bioreactors?”

“They didn’t tell us everything. No. I swear, we don’t know what’s going on. We all thought… We all thought…”

“Doesn’t matter what you thought right now.”

The gunfire began to settle throughout the warehouse.

“Clear!” Jenna said.

“Andris, set the explosives,” Miguel said. “Make sure every one of those bioreactors will be incinerated.”

“I thought you would never ask,” he replied over the comms.

“Glenn, watch his back.”

“On it.” Glenn ran after Andris.

The din of the Skulls trying to break into the building never ceased. People cowered and whimpered between Miguel and Jenna. The doors shook. Dust trembled from the ceiling in columns. Metal groaned in protest as dents formed in some of the rolling garage doors.

“Chief, Bravo One here,” Miguel called over the comms. “Don’t know where you are, but we got a whole bunch of noncombatants under our watch. Cleared the warehouse. Got word that the labs and assembly lines are on the basement level.”

“Copy that,” Dom said. He sounded out of breath. Seemed like Alpha was keeping plenty busy too. “Headed down there now. Keep the warehouse secure. We still need to work out an exfil route before we destroy those bioreactors.”

Miguel nearly laughed. They’d just fought for their lives to get in here. Now they needed to clear an exfil route. The original plan was for a swift pickup on the depot’s roof. Maybe split some teams off to run back toward the Zodiacs. But with all these cultists they’d just saved, even Frank’s Badass Airlines wouldn’t be able to accommodate them. Even if they ran them to the boats, they might not be able to evacuate everyone. Miguel wasn’t sure how many of these people would survive a jaunt to the Zodiacs with all the Skulls going nuts in the storm.

They would need a new way out after they burned this hellish place to the ground. The question was, how?

-47-

Kara rushed down the stairs into the basement after Meredith. She hadn’t served beside her, Rachel, Rory, or Dom for a while. But she slipped right into the team as if she’d never left.

Meredith paused as they hit the bottom of the stairwell. The sound of thunder and Skulls filtered into the basement. Kara’s pulse thumped through her ears. She was still catching her breath after fighting her way toward her father. Meredith leaned out, signaling for the others to stack up behind her. The buzzing glow of fluorescent lights bled in through the open doorway.

A horrible stench assaulted Kara as she studied Meredith’s gestures.

Two hostiles directly down the passage.

When Dom gave the signal, Meredith rushed out first. Kara followed. Adrenaline flooded through her vessels, its icy fingers making time seem to slow. Her eyes absorbed everything in a series of frozen flash frames.

Most of the enormous basement was wide open, light banks hanging overhead. Tables were lined up in rows. Cardboard boxes everywhere. Plastic buckets and big white jugs were scattered around. Bodies lay between these tables. Pools of blood shadowed the corpses. All recently killed. Probably just minutes ago. Steel barrel-like contraptions stood sentinel against one wall. Pipes snaked between them.

These were the assembly lines Rosie had mentioned she was supposed to work at. Was this where they were packaging up the blight?

Kara didn’t have long to think about it.

The cultists at the opposite end of the hundred-yard-long basement ran for shooting positions. Kara and Meredith sent a wave of gunfire booming in the enemy’s direction. Every shot reverberated down here, hammering Kara’s ears. Her pulse raced as she sprinted toward shelter behind a pair of steel barrels.

Providing cover fire, she gave Dom, Rachel, and Rory breathing room to rush into the basement for their own shelter. At the opposite end, past the two cult warriors, a large metal partition blocked off the rest of the basement. Two doors led through this partition. Both opened to release five more cultist warriors. The assholes started firing in sporadic bursts at the Hunters.

“Move up under cover!” Dom yelled between gun blasts.

Kara provided suppressing fire as Meredith advanced. Bullets impaled the tables. Bursting plastic jugs went flying. Parts of a big plastic barrel were drilled away by incoming rounds. Liquid seeped out over the floor, soaking under one of the dead assembly-line workers.

The cruelty of Colorado Singer and his Children of Kusanagi was all too clear. From the horrifying scene she’d witnessed in Little Orleans to seeing evidence that they’d gunned down their own when faced with a disastrous assault, these people knew no bounds. Whatever they believed, whatever they hoped to accomplish, Colorado was willing to sacrifice everything to get it.

Kara ran for a new position behind a crate. Splinters flew as a cultist warrior locked on to her. She had to duck behind the crate until Meredith let loose a concerted burst.

The incoming fire against the crate stopped, and Kara wheeled out from behind it. She caught another cultist trying to fire on Rachel and Rory. Three bullets into the man’s side broke through the Skull rib cage he wore. Another two hit him in the side of his face, obliterating his Skull mask.

As they advanced toward the partition, the stinking odor of decaying meat grew stronger. Kara recalled Miguel’s warning about Hybrids being down here somewhere. Any Hybrids working with the cultists were just as brainwashed as the cultist warriors they’d already confronted.

Except Hybrid cultists were living, breathing weapons. Close quarters combat was hard enough against a normal human. Add organic knives to their fingers, bulky natural armor protecting their body, and talons jutting out of their toes that could gut you with a single kick and CQC got just that much worse.

They had no idea what lay beyond the doors the cultists were protecting with their lives. More bodies piled up from warriors desperately trying to stop the Hunters. Whatever lay behind them had to be important.

She and Meredith took out another pair of cultist warriors before making it to one of the doors. Dom, Rachel, and Rory stacked up on the other one.

The noisome smell here was even worse. Kara halfway wondered if these people were just stacking up dead bodies beyond the door. They were about to find out.

She wrapped her fingers around the door handle. Meredith shouldered her weapon.

Dom counted down.

Three.

Kara sucked in a deep breath.

Two.

Her heart pounded with wild anticipation.

One.

She cranked the door open. Meredith shot through, and Kara followed.

Gunfire exploded around the space almost immediately. Glass shattered from shelves filled with beakers and vials. Lights burst in showers of sparks. Another blast of rumbling thunder shook the facility. The lights flickered. Kara could barely keep track of the demonic shapes moving between what looked like lab benches and hospital beds pulled straight out of a creepy 1950s hospital. The lights continued to strobe as generators kicked in, filling the space with the stink of diesel. The terrible amalgam of carrion and burning fuel made Kara’s nostrils burn as she searched for a clear target.

Muzzle flashes illuminated one end of this Frankenstein lab, reflecting off the masks of more cult warriors positioned around a huge glass window. The entire space behind the window was dark. Kara laid down a stream of lead at some of the warriors flitting around in the shadows.

Meredith flipped a nearby hospital bed, using it for cover as she worked her way toward a lab bench. Gunfire exploded from the other side of the lab where Dom, Rachel, and Rory advanced toward the cultists at the back.

But the ten or so gunmen weren’t the only ones in the lab. Kara spotted people still strapped to some of the hospital beds. IV tubes snaked into their arms. Metal cuffs secured them to the beds. Some were dead with bullet holes to the head or blood seeping through the sheets around their chests. Others thrashed around. They appeared to be in various states of transformation, bony plates pushing up out of their flesh, claws piercing the ends of their fingers.

Instead of shrieking like mindless Skulls, though, most yelled out in terror at the sounds of the fight. There was no hunger in their expressions. No unadulterated, inexplicable rage.

These were people being turned into Hybrids.

Other Hybrids rushed across the room, straight at Meredith and Kara. A couple went down with bullets cracking through their organic plates. Others climbed across the ceiling, hooking their taloned feet and clawed fingers into the ceiling tiles and scaffolds for purchase.

Kara tried to get a bead on them. But there were too many, and they were too quick. All the shuddering lights definitely didn’t help.

One dropped from the ceiling, right on top of her. She fell back against the floor, pain rocking through her spine and head. Her vision went hazy, blackness threatening to overtake it. Stars glimmered over her eyes. She blinked to clear them, tasting blood. She’d bit her tongue in the fall.

A blur of motion sliced toward her face. Instinctively, she swung her rifle up to block the blow. The Hybrid’s hand connected with her weapon. The impact reverberated through the metal and into her bones, making her teeth chatter.

“You will not stop us!” the Hybrid said, slashing again at her face.

She felt the rending of flesh as old wounds tore open. More scars. Assuming she survived.

Then the Hybrid was suddenly pulled off her. The weight disappeared from her chest.

Kara blinked again, pushing past the pain, scrabbling back to her feet. Meredith swung the Hybrid away. The cultist’s taloned feet skidded on the floor, sliding as he tried to regain his footing.

Swinging up her rifle, Kara popped off a series of shots. Each struck out with a violent flash of light that pierced the intermittent darkness. The Hybrid jerked with the resulting impacts. He collapsed sideways into a lab bench. Syringes and small glass vials went flying, clattering over the floor.

“Thanks,” Kara managed.

Meredith gave her a single nod.

Another Hybrid erupted from behind a lab bench. Her claws were outstretched toward Meredith’s throat. Kara fired three times in quick succession, hitting the Hybrid in the side. The transformed woman stumbled forward. Meredith dodged out of the way. When the woman tried to turn for another fatal strike, Kara sent two rounds crashing through the woman’s face. The Hybrid collapsed over one of the hospital beds.

Kara searched for her next target. Dom, Rory, and Rachel were working their way through the other side of the gruesome lab. A handful more Hybrids and warriors had bunkered down around the windowed room. Among them was a single figure with a beard and long hair, a sword slung over his back as he fired a pistol toward the Hunters.

Colorado Singer, the leader of the Children of Kusanagi.

It was time to cut off the head of the snake.

The last couple of the cult leader’s defenders went down in a flurry of gunfire. It was just him left, cowering in the back of the lab.

“Drop your weapon,” Dom bellowed.

He strode toward Colorado, his weapon aimed true. Kara kept her rifle trained on the bastard’s chest in case he tried to make a move on her dad. A few of the Hybrids strapped in the beds were wailing or groaning in pain. The lights continued to flicker, casting ghoulish shadows throughout the lab.

Colorado let his pistol roll out of his grip and clatter against the floor. The man who had looked positively despicable and terrifying back in Little Orleans was nothing but a skinny asshole dressed like a wannabe hippy. He didn’t look nearly as frightening without the human shield he used to protect himself.

“You can stop me,” Colorado said calmly, “but you will never stop Kusanagi.”

Dom took another couple of steps. “Walk toward me. Slowly. Keep your hands up.”

Colorado didn’t make a move. “Humanity has been judged. I am not alone. I am just one servant of cosmic justice. The Children will still be victorious. You cannot change what has already been decided.”

This guy was absolutely nuts. Kara had half a mind to plug him full of bullets herself. But if they could bring him in alive, he would be a treasure trove of data.

Sweat trickled down her forehead, mixing with the rainwater clinging to her skin. She sucked in a breath. Could almost sense the animalistic desperation leaching off Colorado. He was cornered. Trying to buy himself time. But for what?

She gulped. Hard.

The lights flickered again.

“We sent you a warning. Multiple warnings. And you just kept coming after us.” A diabolic grin cut across Colorado’s face. “We will finish what we started.”

He reached toward his sword with one hand, swiping it out. His other shot toward the wall behind him. Right as the sword came slicing out, Kara fired. Shots lanced into the man’s chest. He leaned backward heavily against the expansive window, blood streaking the glass as he slid toward the floor. The frightening grin never left his face.

Behind him, the light inside the next room exploded to life. That must’ve been the button he’d hit.

“Oh, hell no,” Rory said.

“My God,” Meredith muttered.

An involuntary tremble shook through Kara’s body. The rank odor filling the basement level hadn’t been from the Hybrids.

No.

Behind the window was the source of the horrible smell. A monster unlike any Kara had seen in years. Enormous plates of bone bulwarked its astonishingly tremendous body. Its head was covered in tangled bony growths resembling twisted horns, and it had developed a massive underbite, tusked fangs jutting out. The behemoth’s head grazed the ceiling of the basement. Every one of its limbs was about as big as Kara’s whole body. Impressive metal cuffs and chains held the gargantuan creature to the back wall of the isolated room. When its beady eyes caught sight of the Hunters, it let out a roar that rivaled any fit of thunder Mother Nature had thrown at them tonight.

This monster was one of the most formidable accidents of the Oni Agent, the result of a pituitary gland gone wild thanks to the bony growths produced by the nanobacteria impinging on the small organ. Kara had seen creatures like this destroy vehicles in one pounding fist, nearly bring down a helicopter the Hunters were escaping in once, and wreak absolute havoc on even the most formidable military compounds. It was a living wrecking ball fueled by unquenchable hunger.

A Goliath.

The monster yanked at its chains. The ceiling and floor trembled as it lashed out against its restraints. Its chest expanded in heaving breaths, the monster working up a terrifying fervor. Claws thick and big enough to squeeze the life out of Kara’s chest tremored against the steel cuffs keeping the beast from attacking.

The lights flickered on and off again. And then a series of clicks sounded. The chains released from the wall.

The Goliath was free, and the lights shut off.

“Andris,” Dom called over the comms. “We’re going to need to blow this place. Fast.”

-48-

Navid rushed into the electronics workshop with Lauren and Sadie tailing him. He cradled the laptop in his arms as he hurried straight toward Samantha’s workstation.

“Someone’s excited,” she said, taking her headphones off.

Music blasted from the earpieces.

“We found it!” he exclaimed.

He couldn’t help it. Giddy joy boiled through him, more infectious than any virus. Lauren and Sadie shared in his shameless celebration. The two of them could not restrain the smiles plastered across their faces ever since they’d found that the boscalid fungicide mixed with their chelating agent obliterated all traces of the Oni Agent blight. No white mold cells propagated after being treated with the boscalid-chelating agent combination. They’d achieved mass cell death all with a commercially available fungicide, which meant that they should be able to source the boscalid and begin mixing it with chelating agent immediately.

America still had a chance.

Lauren and Navid explained all that to Samantha as quickly as they could.

“You’re telling me it would be useful if we had access to a database of information tracking where fungicides were manufactured, distributed, and sold, right?” Samantha asked.

“That would be exactly what we need,” Lauren said. “Do you think we have a quick way of figuring that out?”

A knowing smile crossed Samantha’s face. “It would be convenient if someone already put together that kind of database to make your job easier, wouldn’t it?”

“Don’t tell me Thornfield already had this,” Navid said, “because that would really make my day.”

“He didn’t,” Samantha replied. “I put a database together.” She was already typing as she spoke. “I accessed all industrial records from agriculture-related companies that I could find. I scraped their manufacturing and sales logs to compile it, along with some publicly available information.”

“Thornfield gave you permission to do that?” Sadie asked.

“Sometimes it’s better if you don’t ask permission,” Samantha said, “and it’s way more efficient if you just do it, you know?” She leaned toward Sadie, winking. “So don’t tell anyone.”

“Shoot, Samantha, if you can find out where we can source a metric crap-ton of boscalid, I will buy you a crate of energy drinks,” Navid said.

“That a real unit of scientific measurement?” she asked. Her face was already buried in her computer screens.

“What?” Navid asked.

“Metric crap-ton. I’m used to hearing nano-this, micro-that, but not a crap-ton. How many crap-tons did a Goliath weigh?”

“Eight, exactly,” Lauren answered wryly.

“Then let’s find a Goliath’s worth of boscalid, and—” Samantha went quiet. She started murmuring to herself as she traced her finger across the spreadsheets on one of her monitors. “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Come on.”

All the exhilaration of finding an answer to their scientific dilemma suddenly evaporated, replaced by the cold grip of anxiety.

“Samantha, what’s going on?” Navid asked.

Samantha turned toward them, licking her lips as if buying time. “Okay, please do not shoot the messenger.”

“Spit it out,” Navid said.

“You know how all those Skull attacks have been hitting ag plants and business?” she asked.

“No, don’t tell me that,” Lauren said.

“I’m telling you. Not every place produced this boscalid stuff. But all the plants that used to make boscalid were attacked. Most are still in repair. None are currently producing the fungicide.”

“They knew,” Navid said. “The Children knew what would cure the blight.”

“There must be a stock of it somewhere,” Lauren said.

“Yeah, can you track where the boscalid is sold or stored?” Sadie asked, eyes bright with hope.

Navid waited, hands clenched as Samantha worked her keyboard again. The spreadsheets on her monitors began shifting as new data propagated the individual boxes.

Again, Samantha traced her fingers over the results. “Modest amounts were shipped all around the country months ago. But look at this. Some big company purchased almost every other available ounce of boscalid on the market back in June. Navid, if you’re looking for a metric crap-ton, that’s it.”

“What company?” Navid said. “Please tell me they weren’t destroyed in the Skull attacks.”

“The company’s called Regeneration Services, LLC. I don’t see them anywhere on the list of attacks.” She started scrolling through the database she’d constructed, sifting through the names of the agricultural companies. “I don’t see them anywhere else, in fact. They didn’t sell the boscalid, so they must’ve been storing it somewhere.”

“Where’s the company?” Sadie asked.

“Pennsylvania,” she said. “Hmm, that’s weird.”

“What’s that?”

“You all read the briefings from Kara, right?” Samantha asked.

Navid nodded. He had, but there hadn’t been much pertinent information about the blight, so he didn’t recall too many of the details, and he’d been overwhelmed in the lab. But Sadie’s head bobbed more vigorously. Of course, she had pored over every word her sister had supplied the Hunters.

“What was that girl’s name that Kara went to rescue?”

“Roselyn Grace,” Sadie said. “Goes by Rosie.”

“Yeah, thought so. Supposedly, Rosie owns Regeneration Services. It was transferred to her a couple of weeks ago. She bought it from another person who owned Regeneration Services for less than a month.”

It had been a long time since Navid saw Kara, much less since they’d been in a relationship. But he couldn’t help feeling the creeping sensation of dread spread through him. “You don’t think Kara was tricked by this Rosie person, do you?”

“Is this all one big trap?” Sadie asked.

“I can’t imagine that’s right…” Lauren said.

Samantha stared at the computer monitor. “I don’t know. Let me see what I can find.”

Navid waited in anticipation as Samantha worked the keys again. She would stop to scan something then continue on. He hated waiting for an answer. After they’d come so close to finding a solution, only to have it snatched away preemptively by the Children of Kusanagi. To know Kara was in danger, out there in the field, surrounded by people who might’ve betrayed her, he couldn’t stand it.

“Anything, Samantha?” he asked.

She held up a single finger, waiting a few more seconds before answering. “Okay, get this. I tracked a series of names for Regeneration Services, LLC. Multiple owners over time. It looks to me like a classic shell game. Because when Regeneration Services was first formed, it was owned by another LLC. Took a little digging and some methods that you all cannot tell anyone outside of this ship about. But the person who apparently started all this mess was Colorado Singer.”

“The leader of the Children of Kusanagi,” Sadie said.

“Yeah,” Samantha said. “Most of the names of people who owned Regeneration Services afterward were reported missing by family or friends. Want to bet where they went?”

“Cultists,” Lauren said. “Colorado used their identities to obscure his activities. That’s good information. But does it help us find where he stashed all this boscalid?”

“Maybe,” Samantha said. “Most of the boscalid was delivered to an address in Middletown, Pennsylvania. Here’s the address.”

She pulled up a satellite view of the address, zooming in.

“That’s just an old gas station,” Navid said. “There’s nothing else around it.”

“Right. Nowhere to store boscalid. You three are smart. If you’re thinking like me, if the Children of Kusanagi are ordering up all this boscalid, what do you think they’re doing with it?”

“Either using that as cover for driving it the rest of the way to Mechanicsburg to their supply depot,” Navid said, “or they’re just dumping it into the Susquehanna River nearby.”

“Let’s hope for the former,” Samantha said. “Could be they planned to spread the blight then wanted to whip up a cure themselves with the boscalid and sell it. Might be a nice way for them to make a boatload of cash to fund their stupid cult. Would make them look like heroes too. Good for recruitment.”

“No one’s going to look like heroes if we can’t retrieve that stock,” Lauren says. “We need to tell Alpha and Bravo before they blow it all up.”

-49-

The Goliath let loose a bellow that shook through the floor and up into Dom’s boots. The entire building felt like it was ready to crumble, and the beast had only taken its first couple of steps. The lights flickered.

“Retreat!” Dom yelled to the rest of Alpha.

He stole a glance at Kara to make sure she was actually following through instead of rushing headlong to combat the giant Skull. Thankfully, she was.

The Goliath leaned forward, dropping to all fours like the most enormous linebacker ever to exist. Another earthquaking cry thundered from its demented maw as it barreled forward.

The monster’s putrid face and armored shoulders rammed hard into the window and wall serving as its prison. Cinder blocks were turned to dust. Glass exploded in a violent spray. Gunfire burst from all the Hunters as they backpedaled between the detritus of the half-destroyed lab and the corpses of Hybrids and uninfected humans alike. The Goliath’s elephantine feet came smashing down on Colorado Singer’s corpse, turning his body into a flattened, pulpy mess.

Then with a ravenous swipe, the Goliath slammed its meaty claws into one of the patient beds. The bed tumbled into another with a cultist Hybrid still trapped. The Hybrid went quiet real quick.

Cries of terror escaped the other three that were still alive and strapped down in their hospital beds. The Goliath lumbered after them first, the spikes growing from its vertebrae tearing into the ceiling. It wrapped its claws around one of the Hybrids and lifted them, bed and all, squeezing around the Hybrid’s torso until a sickening pop sounded. Then the behemoth lowered its head and charged the other two Hybrids, crushing them and their beds against the wall. Cinder blocks fell apart from the attack, and so much of the wall was destroyed, spilling into the devastating crater the Goliath had caused.

All the while, the Hunters leveled a wall of gunfire at the monster.

The lights continued to strobe, the facilities’ generators barely able to power them. Thunder exploded outside as the Goliath turned toward the Hunters. One of the surviving Hybrids started to crawl toward Meredith and Kara. The person’s legs were a broken mess, pulverized by the giant monster. The Hybrid clawed desperately at the floor to drag themselves away.

The Goliath took one stride and scooped them up. The Hybrid yelled as bullets shattered against the Goliath’s thick armor. Pockmarks formed all over the giant’s arms and chest. Blood seeped from a few wounds, but the creature didn’t seem to care. The Hybrid thrashed in the Goliath’s grip as the giant stuck the person’s head in its mouth. One messy chomp, and the Hybrid’s body went still.

With a gut-churning gulp, the Goliath swallowed the head.

Dom adjusted his fire, trying to score a shot into the Goliath’s eye. From his experience, it was one of the monster’s weak spots. But the beast started raising hell, throwing aside lab benches and hospital beds, ripping the lab apart. It was constantly moving, making it nearly impossible to get a clean shot at its relatively tiny eyes.

Even if they didn’t bring this beast down with bullets alone, they could bury it under the rubble of the building when Andris’s explosives brought it down. They just needed to buy enough time to get up and outside.

“Keep moving!” Dom shouted.

The Goliath put a hand over its face, shielding itself from the incessant gunfire. Chips of bone plates sprayed off with each burst. Dom covered Rachel and Rory as they retreated out the door. Meredith and Kara exited the other. It was only when everyone else had left the lab that Dom followed, unleashing a final blast into the Goliath’s face, hoping to slow it.

“Alpha One, Bethany,” Samantha called over the comms.

“Here,” Dom said. “Better be an emergency.”

“It is,” she said. “You can’t blow that building.”

Dom was backpedaling away from the lab. He and the others were already a quarter of the way through the assembly line area, running back toward the stairwell.

The Goliath’s roars echoed out of the laboratory. Dom could hear the clang and crash of metal and laboratory equipment, each quaking footstep shaking the floor. They might have just enough time to escape and turn this place into a raging inferno.

“Why the hell not?” Dom asked.

“Because it might have basically the entire stock of boscalid the country has left?”

“Boscalid?”

“What the science team needs to stop the blight. You’ve got to find it and get it all out of there.”

Scratch the whole idea of running from the Goliath and escaping with their lives intact. They needed time to gather the boscalid.

The laboratory wall suddenly gave way in a rolling cloud of dust and debris. Pipes burst, spraying water across the floor. Bricks and metal panels went flying. Dom searched through the haze of gray and brown for their target as cracks fissured through the tiled floor.

The Goliath rushed out of the rolling dust cloud. Its feet smashed over bodies and boxes through the vacant assembly lines.

“We have to take it down!” Dom yelled.

The monster raked a claw up at the ceiling, carving through the ventilation ducts and support beams. Part of the floor above gave way, broken chunks of ceiling tumbling down, followed by a crash of spilling dust. The beast scooped up a table. Plastic jugs were flung away, spilling liquid across the floor. Then the Goliath cranked back its arm and launched the table in Dom’s direction. He had to throw himself to the ground as the table whooshed by, crashing into the floor only feet from his head.

Just as quickly, he got to his knees, taking aim and firing at the monster’s face again. One of the monster’s eyes burst in a spray of flesh. It let out an earsplitting, agonized cry as it flailed its massive limbs. In its anger, it clawed at the ceiling again.

“Dom, whatever the hell is going on, the floor is cratering under the bioreactors,” Miguel called to him.

Pipes burst from where the Skull had been whipping its claws. Steam sprayed out. Dom felt the warmth from the superheated steam responsible for warming the bioreactors. Another broken pipe closer to Kara dumped water into the basement floor. It spread around their feet, splashing up around their boots. It was nearly freezing.

Perfect.

“Kara, stay by that pipe!” he yelled. “When I tell you, spray it at the Goliath.”

She backed up close to the pipe, avoiding the freezing water.

The lights continued to flash as the Goliath recovered. It bounded toward the Hunters, hurling another table. This one slammed into Rachel, throwing her backward across the floor. Her body slid over the water.

“Rachel!” Rory cried.

“Help her!” Dom said.

Meredith provided cover fire, distracting the Goliath as Rory ran to Rachel. The Goliath headed away from Dom, stomping toward Meredith. Its jaw opened in another guttural roar. Saliva sprayed out in mucus-filled ropes. She stood her ground, peppering the Goliath’s mouth with bullets until the monster clamped its jaws together with a bone-cracking snap.

“Get back!” Dom yelled at Meredith.

Then he squeezed the trigger, sending another barrage into the Goliath’s face. Bullets chiseled away at the already damaged bone plates. Pieces flecked off with each connecting shot until he was drilling through the flesh of the creature’s jaw.

Still, the Goliath didn’t stop. It came hurtling toward him. Just like he’d intended. He ran around the superheated steam spraying from one of the ruptured pipes. His boots nearly slipped in the water and blood mixing beneath him, but he made it right around the column of white haze, the heat washing over his body.

The Goliath didn’t go around the steam. Instead, it rushed straight through the scalding vapor. Immediately, part of its exposed flesh peeled back, and it let out an agonized shriek from deep within its belly. The monster staggered as the steam enveloped it for a few seconds before its hunger and rage put it into overdrive again.

Dom fired another burst at the monster, drawing it toward him. The beast stomped through the steam, distracted from the pain of its blistering flesh and overheated bone plates.

“Now, Kara!” Dom shouted.

She wrenched the pipe spewing ice-cold water, pulling it in the Goliath’s direction. The nearly freezing water hit the Goliath like a fire hose. Steam rolled off the Goliath’s body in a cloud as a series of violently loud cracks split the air.

Thermal shock.

The sudden cooling of the hot bone plates had created such large temperature differentials that the resulting stress fractured many of the bone plates across the Goliath’s body. If Dom had judged correctly, the bony plates had acted like ceramic undergoing thermal shock. Which meant they should be brittle now too.

“Everyone, fire!” Dom called.

Dom couldn’t see how Rachel was doing, but he heard the bark of Rory’s rifle. Meredith’s rifle shuddered against her shoulder, and Kara unleashed shot after shot at the Goliath. Dom flicked his rifle to automatic and unleashed an entire magazine before quickly switching it for another.

The outer layer of the Goliath’s armor came off in flakes and chunks. The fractures in its chest plates and across its face grew wider, damaged by the incessant gunfire. It tried to take a few steps through the hailstorm of bullets. Blood poured from between the cracks in its armor and from its sloughing flesh. Gunk oozed from its destroyed eye, and a crimson beard dangled off its chin, fed by the blood gushing from between its fangs.

Dom kept his rifle trained on the monster’s ugly face until he saw every one of his shots hitting with a wet, puckering impact. Flesh flew from the blasts until the Goliath let out a final gasping rattle. It stretched out a clawed hand, fingers trembling before falling forward. The floor broke apart beneath its gargantuan body as it crushed tables and boxes and bottles and even a few corpses.

The Goliath was dead.

Kara and Meredith kept their weapons trained on the abomination as if it might get a second wind.

Dom ran toward Rory. “How’s Rachel?”

Rory was helping her to her feet. Blood trickled from her nose, but she gave him a thumbs-up, her face awash in pallor.

“Hurts to breathe,” she said. “But I’m alive.”

Dom didn’t like that. She might just have a few bruised ribs, or she might be suffering internal bleeding. They needed to get out of here and back to the Bethany quickly.

Another rumble of thunder blasted above them, sounding closer than before. The lights rippled through the basement, going off again. This time, they didn’t come back on.

Outside came the voices of hundreds of Skulls roaring and throwing themselves against the supply depot, desperate to get at the people inside.

Somehow, they were supposed to make it out alive. Wouldn’t have been a problem if the helicopters heading their way could pick them up from the roof. But now with the building sounding like it was covered in Skulls, a bunch of frightened people that they couldn’t just abandon, and an entire stock of fungicide they needed for the science team, exfil was looking more difficult than ever.

Maybe Colorado had been right. The Children of Kusanagi would still be victorious.

This place might just be the Hunters’ tomb.

-50-

Miguel listened to the Skulls batter the doors of the supply depot. Every time another one hammered at the metal, he expected one of the loading dock bay doors to cave in. The cultists cowering on the floor between Bravo team’s members shivered and cried out in terror. They definitely weren’t making this any easier.

“It is one of my greatest disappointments that I can’t yet destroy this facility,” Andris said. “I wanted to make it go boom very, very loud.”

“Oh, if we get out of here, you still get to blow this place up.”

“Yes, but getting out of here won’t be easy.”

“Bull,” Glenn growled. “You forgot I’m back. Never met a Skull I couldn’t take down.”

Footsteps pounded up the stairwell as Alpha team rushed into the warehouse. Dom sent the team spreading out. While Dom had told them over the comms, Miguel could still hardly believe that Kara had joined them. She looked hardened by her time in the field—or maybe it was just the dim lights, rain, and gunk from battle covering her. Just like the rest of them.

The squeal of metal sounded from one of the roll-up doors on the loading block that buckled inward. Miguel couldn’t imagine it would take more than a few more Skulls ramming it before it collapsed completely.

“Change of plans!” Dom announced. “We’re not all going to fit on the choppers.”

Many of the people crouched and hiding between the Hunters gasped.

Angela stood. “What are you going to do to us? You can’t just leave us.”

Others rose to their feet, yelling and crying and demanding the Hunters not abandon them.

“We’re not abandoning you!” Dom shouted. “Quiet!”

But the people didn’t stop. Once they got it in their heads they might be left behind, they didn’t stop demanding answers. Their raised voices boomed around the warehouse, echoing against the metal doors.

The Skulls outside reacted by erupting in visceral shrieks, their voices booming in concert with the thunder.

“Quiet! Quiet!” Miguel yelled.

One of the men reached for Miguel’s rifle, trying to wrest it away from him. Miguel elbowed the guy in the stomach then shoved him backward. The man fell against one of the shelves. Three more of the cultists started toward Miguel, yelling at him.

It took everything in Miguel to keep his cool. All the cultists they were trying to rescue now cried out in anger and fear. Add that to the Skulls battering at the supply depot’s exterior. The scratch and scrape of the monsters over the roof and walls only got louder and more frantic.

“We’re getting you all out of here!” Dom said. “But if you don’t shut your mouths, we’re going to—”

One of the roll-up doors exploded inward. A Skull stood atop the crumpled door, rainwater streaming off its body. It raised its arms, muscles bulging under its cracked bony plates. The water soaking over the monster’s body reflected the crackling lightning. Its jaw opened as it let out a high-pitched howl. Skulls rushed in around the shrieking monster, tearing toward the Hunters and their wards.

Miguel fired immediately.

“Dad! Give me your sat phone!” Kara yelled.

“Rachel, Rory, roof with Glenn!” Dom ordered as he passed her the sat phone.

Miguel didn’t know exactly what Dom had planned, nor what had been told to the others, but he had to trust the captain indeed had a plan. And part of that plan included all of them getting the hell out of here alive.

The flood of Skulls trampled over their dead as Miguel, Jenna, Meredith, Andris, and Dom laid down volley after volley. The vanguard ranks of the Skulls fell to the onslaught. But more crawled and trampled inside.

Whatever Kara had been doing with the sat phone, she ended her call, rejoining the battle. The cultists that had been demanding answers from the Hunters were now mostly cowed by the sudden violence. Many had gone back to crouching behind crates and barrels.

Two people lost control, giving into their fight-or-flight lizard brains. Unfortunately, neither of those options was appropriate for the current situation. A man went running, trying to escape out a regular door near the corner of the warehouse, a woman following him. He ripped the door open, and before he even made it a step, a Skull pounced from outside, slamming into his chest and knocking him backward over the floor. Three more Skulls powered in, driven by rampant ferocity. They tore into the woman, their claws turning her flesh to ribbons. Her screams devolved into gasping coughs before she went silent.

Miguel knew the team could barely hold off the Skulls from the single busted-down door. If they had to split their efforts between two fronts, they’d be slaughtered before Dom could execute whatever plan was boiling over in his mind.

He rushed headlong at the deadly skeletal trio. The first looked up from the fresh corpse of the woman, its face coated in blood. Miguel sent gunfire spearing through its torso. Then he unleashed a burst at the second. The monster flew backward from another blast ripping into its chest, its claws soaked in red. The third Skull leapt over the woman’s body. Its talons slammed against the floor. Miguel ripped into it with another volley before it could attack.

The fourth Skull, the one that had pounced on the man, twisted toward Miguel, rising to its haunches. Miguel squeezed the trigger. But his bolt was locked back. The rifle was empty.

A deafening howl blasted from the monster as it threw itself at Miguel.

He didn’t have time to reload. Instead, he let out a fearsome roar himself, fueled by raw adrenaline and desperation.

His team was relying on him. Those people, cultist or not, would die if he failed. And if the Hunters never made it out of the Supply Depot, if they never actually brought this facility down, the Oni Agent blight would survive. It would ravage the food supplies of America, kicking the country down even as it tried to rise from the ashes of its near demise.

Screw that.

Miguel jumped to meet the Skull midair, colliding with the creature. His momentum carried him and the Skull backward. Their bodies crashed together in a devasting clash of two warriors. One bred by a bioweapon. The other honed by years of training.

Miguel and the Skull went sliding across the ground, spilled blood spraying up around them. He hit the Skull with a devastating haymaker. Pain washed up through his knuckles when they cracked against the side of the beast’s face. The monster slashed at him in a blind flurry, forcing him to scramble backward.

Just past the Skull, just outside the door, rain slanted over the parking lot, dousing a horde of other Skulls. The monster’s head thrust forward. Its teeth snapped in a sickening crunch. Fetid spittle sprayed over Miguel’s face. The creature lunged at Miguel once more. This time, Miguel twisted his prosthetic wrist. The hidden razor-sharp blade sliced out from its compartment. He thrust it into the Skull’s throat, impaling the flesh between the bone armor plates.

He pushed the Skull backward as dark blood wept from the wound and sprayed out of its mouth. Then Miguel shoved the Skull hard out the doorway. The monster crashed backward against a few other beasts fighting each other to get in the door.

With a heaving thud, Miguel slammed the door shut, forcing the twisted dead bolt back into place. The beasts outside threw themselves against it. Miguel dragged a couple of crates in front of the door to hold it shut. He leaned against the crates for a second, his chest heaving as he sucked down breath after breath.

Good. That was one less front by which the creatures could attack. One less firing lane to keep track of.

But of course, whenever something was going right on the battlefield, something else went wrong.

Another roll-up door collapsed on the far end of the warehouse. Skulls gushed in, ramming each other to be the first to take down their prey. Their voices and the clatter of their claws nearly drowned out Miguel’s thoughts.

This was not cool. Very uncool, in fact.

Miguel took a deep breath as he focused on doing what he did best. Fighting Skulls. He only had a couple magazines left, and by his rough estimation, from that glimpse he’d had of the parking lot, he guessed it wasn’t nearly enough bullets to take every beast down.

No matter. He would fight until his last breath. Blade or bullet, he would tear these Skulls apart.

-51-

Kara watched in horror as the Skulls just kept coming. There seemed to be no end. It had been nearly a decade since she’d seen this many Skulls in one spot. All thanks to one damned cult. The smell of spilled blood and the metallic odor of so many hot bullet casings filled the warehouse between the stench of the Skulls.

And that was when she heard it. The unmistakable thump-thump-thump of helicopter blades between the thunder and cacophony of the Skulls.

She wanted desperately to keep firing on the monsters. To keep holding them back, ensuring they wouldn’t overwhelm the others, but she had one more call to make.

“Caleb,” she said over the sat phone.

Her first call had been to make sure Rosie gave the sat phone to Caleb. She needed to prepare him for an enormous favor. One she wasn’t sure he would accept. But the guy had promised at the very beginning of their mission that he would follow her orders.

He’d made good on that vow so far. Time to test how far his promises went.

“Kara, now?” he asked, his accent stronger than ever.

“Now. Good luck, Caleb.”

“You too.”

The thump of the chopper’s engines boomed louder. Kara rushed back to join the lines of her allies. All she could do now was sight up Skulls and fire. The creatures were piling up over the floor near the entrances. Monsters climbed over each other, funneling through. They seemed just as eager to eat the Hunters’ bullets as they were to devour the flesh of the people hiding inside the supply depot.

But then Kara thought she heard it. Under the thumping of the helicopters outside came the distant crack of a rifle. That would be Caleb.

He’d followed through. Just like she’d asked. Risking his life to cover Rory, Rachel, and Glenn as they prepared to board the choppers. He was helping clear the roof of monsters so the helicopters could swoop in to pick up the small team.

If the trio didn’t make it on those choppers, then their plan would quickly fall apart.

Kara didn’t have a comm unit. She couldn’t tell what Glenn, Rachel, and Rory were saying to the others. She couldn’t hear what the chopper pilots were reporting or whether they were able to get close enough to the roof to pick anyone up.

All she could do was listen to the thunder, the Skulls, and the gunfire.

But another sound told her all she needed to know. The sweet, sweet roar of eight hundred rounds per minute chewing through the monsters outside.

Glenn, Rachel, and Rory must’ve made it aboard the choppers. Kara could picture it now. The Hunters would be using the mounted M240s on the birds to spray hellfire down on the Skulls.

The rush of monsters into the supply depot began to dwindle.

Until finally one last, lonely Skull lumbered into the open loading bay door. Kara sighted it up. One of its chest plates was cracked. Its leg was broken, and it limped toward them with a ripping growl. Kara squeezed the trigger. The Skull went down in a heaping pile of bony limbs.

Miguel went to one of the doors as the engine noise of the choppers and the rattle of their machine guns started to grow quieter, fading into the sounds of the storms.

“It’s working!” Miguel shouted. “The horde’s following the choppers.”

“We might not have much time.” Dom looked around at the Hunters and the frightened cultists. “I don’t care how many of you believe in the Children of Kusanagi and how many of you might have already been ready to leave. But right now, if you want to live, you’ll help us. Any of you who disagree, any of you who try to sabotage our efforts, we will walk you right through one of those doors and send you out the gates on your own. Do you understand?”

Only a few people nodded.

“Do you understand?” Dom boomed.

More nodded this time. It wasn’t everyone, but Kara trusted that her dad and the others could keep the group under control.

“Andris, Meredith, Miguel, Kara, and I will be driving the trucks,” Dom said. “We got enough MTV trucks out there for all of us. On these shelves is a fungicide called boscalid. Load up every single box and bottle that you can.”

He pointed at the shelves. “Every single one of you that is alive right now will help us load these up. If you refuse, my offer’s still good. You can get a free walk right out of the gate and into the packs of wild Skulls.”

And just like that, the Hunters began loading up the supplies with the help of the surviving cultists. They found pallets and crates outside the loading docks too. The dried goods Kara had seen earlier next to the blight-spraying equipment were all containers of the fungicide they needed.

The rain never ceased, though the thunder had grown more distant, along with the cries of the Skulls and the rhythmic churn of the helicopters’ engines.

Skulls attacked sporadically on their own. But never more than a few at a time.

The Hunters and cult followers slopped through the mud, past the bodies and destruction, over the trampled loading dock doors to get the cult’s big transport trucks loaded. It took nearly two hours. The rain finally began to lessen, and everyone who had contributed to retrieving the fungicides was thoroughly drenched in mud.

A howl sounded from the direction of the river, answered by more beasts. Kara paused as Dom listened to the creatures’ voices.

“We’re going to need to get moving again,” he said. “Miguel, Meredith, load the civilians in your trucks. Any stragglers can go with me or Andris. We’re going to drive south, straight to Aberdeen. We will not stop for anything. These fungicides need to make it home. Jett and Frank will provide our eyes in the sky, along with fire support.”

Dom signaled for Jenna to come over. “Kara doesn’t have a comms unit. You’ll ride shotgun with her.”

“Aye, Captain,” Jenna replied.

“Dad,” Kara said, “you said we can’t stop for anything. But I made a promise to Caleb and the others. I’ve got to pick them up. I’ve got to get them out of here.”

“You got room in your truck bed?” he asked.

Kara glanced at the back of the MTV that he’d assigned to her. They’d loaded it last. Half the truck bed was empty. “Enough for them and three horses.”

“Horses?” Dom asked.

“I can’t leave animals behind.”

Dom’s brow scrunched in concern. Kara couldn’t help but think of that last mission before she’d left the Hunters. The images of those teenagers who’d been ripped apart. Like back then, the Hunters had a crucial mission ahead. One that wasn’t quite finished and was perhaps even more crucial than the operation in which she’d had to let those teenagers run off to their deaths.

She was bracing for her father to say no. To tell her that they couldn’t afford risking her, Jenna, or that truck. Logically, she knew he would be right to say so. But she also knew that she would never forgive herself if she simply drove out of town without stopping for them.

“Kara, I trust you,” Dom said. “You do what you think needs to be done.”

She gave him a stern nod.

The Hunters loaded up in their respective trucks. Kara still had Dom’s sat phone.

As she started the vehicle, its diesel engine growling to life, she placed a call to Caleb. Told him to get ready.

Miguel’s truck was first out of the supply depot, barreling toward the western gate. It slammed into the wooden planks and chain-link fence, crashing through the barriers. The rest of the convoy tore out after them, driving over a mess of mud and mangled Skulls.

While the rest of the convoy churned hard for the south, Kara went directly east to the self-storage facility. The truck ground to a halt outside the lobby entrance where rain-drenched Caleb waited with the rest of their beleaguered group.

“Get in the back,” she called out the window.

As soon as she had her new passengers, she raced toward the edge of town, not stopping for any of the Skulls that got in their way. Creatures were crushed beneath their wheels, the truck barely even bumping over them. When they reached the small theater where the horses were, it took some goading to get the animals aboard.

They’d undoubtedly been spooked by the explosive gunfire and the booming thunderstorm. As soon as the animals were safely in, the group was on their way to catch up to the rest of the convoy.

“Hey, your dad’s talking over the comms,” Jenna said, one finger pressed to her ear. “This is Andris’s favorite part. One last round of thunder.”

Kara shifted the truck into a higher gear as they barreled down the road. She stole a glance to the east, back toward where the supply depot was. A sudden flash of light split the darkness, followed by a fiery mushroom cloud roaring upward, illuminated by the hellish inferno rising from the depths of the underworld.

Kara could practically hear Andris rejoicing in the explosion through Jenna’s comm unit.

The Children of Kusanagi had been destroyed. The fungicides the science team needed to start combatting the blight had been saved.

And Kara had kept her word to a few people who weren’t important to their mission but whose lives were every bit as important to her.

-EPILOGUE-

The morning sun rose over the Chesapeake Bay, just east of Aberdeen Proving Grounds. Dom strode from his truck toward an old ally from years ago. The man had gray hair, and his face was etched in far more wrinkles than when Dom had last seen him, but all the same, Dom recognized the man’s stern countenance from the first time he’d met him, all the way back when he’d worked closely with the bioweapons specialists at Fort Detrick during the Tide.

“Colonel Shepherd.” Dom extended a hand. He spotted the single embroidered star on the man’s collar. “Brigadier General Shepherd, I mean. Congratulations on the promotion.”

“Dominic Holland.” Shepherd met him in a hearty handshake. “You look like absolute shit. What in God’s name did you do last night?”

“Skulls. Don’t think I need to say more.”

Then he gestured toward the trucks lined up outside the APG’s visitor center. “When I heard you were coming down to Maryland with goods for us, I had to get here myself.”

Dom wiped off some of the dried mud and blood covering his chest. “We got big problems ahead, Shepherd. First thing, though, I’ve got some people that need medical attention. People we rescued and one of my own.”

Shepherd whistled. One of his military assistants hurried to his side. He passed on the message to the assistant, and medics rushed out of the visitor’s center.

“We’ll take care of those people,” Shepherd said. “Now I’ve got a bunch of men and women around here who would very much like to know why you just drove a convoy of trucks into the APG.”

Dom gave the brigadier general as much information he could.

Shepherd listened intently. “Just when I thought we were making progress and I’d seen the last development in the Oni Agent, you drop this on my doorstep.” Then he grinned. “That being said, I’m glad to see you still in the fight.”

“Same to you. Think you can help us?”

“What do you need?”

“First off, we’ve got a whole bunch of people that need processing. They’re fresh recruits to the Children of Kusanagi. No idea how badly they might be brainwashed, but I’m hoping you all know how to handle them and figure out how you can help them.”

“We’ve definitely got people that can do that. What else?”

“My science team says the US is already producing enough chelating agents to fight the Oni Agent. Sourcing that shouldn’t be bad. We will need to identify new locations to ramp up production of the fungicide component.”

“If that means we need to get the Corps of Engineers involved, consider it done,” Shepherd said. “Whatever your team says is necessary, we’ve got your back.”

“Appreciate that,” Dom said. “You think we can get your old friends at Fort Detrick involved?”

Fort Detrick was the brigadier general’s old post. Shepherd had served as garrison commander of the facility specializing in biomedical research. One of the base’s areas of research included plant pathogens. Dom figured getting them involved in producing the cure to the blight would be a boon to their efforts.

“Thornfield recently reached out to ask the same,” Shepherd said. “With what you guys brought back, you’re damn right I can pull a few strings and make sure Detrick’s supporting these efforts. Anything else?”

“A couple of Zodiacs.”

“Zodiacs?” Shepherd asked.

“Our plans in Pennsylvania didn’t turn out exactly like we hoped.”

“Isn’t that the case whenever Skulls are involved?”

Dom nodded. “I have a feeling we’ll be a lot busier in the coming days. We’ll be able to put those boats to good use.”

“Two Zodiacs isn’t too much to ask. I’ll have them waiting for you in the marina. You can take them straight to your ship when you’re done here.”

Dom returned to his team. They were gathered around one of the trucks. Rory was helping Rachel to a pair of medics, and two whisked her away to the clinic just down the block. He was glad to see Rachel had been stable since escaping Mechanicsburg, which gave him hope that all she was dealing with was a bruised rib or two. Other military personnel escorted the cultists from the backs of the trucks, gathering them up near the front of the visitor center.

He noticed one woman and a bearded man break off from the group of cultists, running toward the group Kara had picked up after leaving the supply depot.

“Angela! Rich!” one of the men yelled. Another man with a bandage wrapped around his head jogged after him. The two men’s families followed.

“Dennis! Luke!” Angela cried back. She and the bearded guy met the two families in hugs and sobs.

Dom saw Kara smiling as she watched this unexpected reunion. He guessed there was more of a story there.

Next to her was a man with shaggy blond hair and a rifle. Caleb. The guy had an arm wrapped tightly around a woman who must be Rosie.

Meredith wiped her brow with her jacket sleeve as she joined Dom. Her face was covered in dirt and grit. “You told Shepherd this is far from over, right?”

“In so many words, yes.”

“There’s no way the Children of Kusanagi did this on their own. Engineering the blight? Getting the money to fund their efforts? It’s all just a bit too much for a fly-by-night cult.”

“We’ll talk to Thornfield when we get back to the ship. See what he thinks. But I have a feeling you’re right. There’s going to be more groups like this rising up.”

Meredith jutted her chin toward the people they’d taken from the supply depot. “Hopefully some of them will have answers.” She shook her head. “I just keep thinking up more questions. What were they planning on doing with the boscalid? Sell it? Curing the blight wouldn’t have jived with Colorado’s supposed views, unless he was lying.” Then she lowered her voice. “And how did they get ahold of the Heikegani Agent? Turning people into Hybrids? They’ve probably been using Hybrids this whole time to coordinate all these Skull attacks, from the ag companies to the fields to who knows what else.”

“The end of the Children isn’t the end of whatever the hell is going on. For now, I just want to get the team back to the ship. Once we get the all clear that Rachel’s good to travel, we set out again. I just got one more thing to do before we go.”

Meredith glanced at Kara. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Dom walked over to his daughter, the morning sun warming his face. A fresh breeze cut over the grounds, bringing with it the scent of freshly mowed grass. Much better than the stink wafting off his team.

“Kara,” Dom said.

She turned away from Caleb and the others, joining Dom. There was a bandage plastered across her face from where she’d been injured.

“You okay there?” he asked.

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Everyone else over there got the help they needed?”

“The Army physicians are checking out one of the families now. Caleb’s got some medic skills he picked up, so he helped the family that got in that crash. Other than that, I think they’re all okay.”

“I know we haven’t had much of a chance to talk. But I was hoping you wouldn’t mind continuing our conversation back on the ship.”

“Is that your way of asking if I’ll join the Hunters again?”

Dom was never big on emotions or apologies. But Kara saw right through him. Might as well admit to what was going through his mind.

“It is,” Dom said. “I regret the way you left us. I know we both tried to do what’s right. It’s not hard to see why the two of us might butt heads.”

Kara grinned. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Thing is, the ship isn’t the same without you. I got used to having both my daughters there, and I might’ve forgotten that you grew up on that ship. That you were still my daughter but no longer a little girl.”

“I get it. I get why you made those decisions. I used to think it was because you didn’t trust my judgment.”

“That wasn’t it at all.”

“I know now.”

“What do you think?” he asked.

Kara gestured toward Caleb and the others. “I’ve got to talk to a few people first. That okay?”

Kara hugged Caleb and Rosie. “Couldn’t have done it without you two.”

“It ain’t nothing,” Caleb said. “You helped me find Rosie. It was the least I could do.”

“It wasn’t something everyone would do, though.” Kara turned to Rosie. “Never would have found the supply depot if you hadn’t led us there either.”

“No way I would let the Children get away with what they were doing.”

“You guys know where you’re going after this?” Kara asked.

Rosie shook her head. “Back to Little Orleans first. See what my sister wants to do.”

“You better give Devon a heads up before you guys get there.”

“How?” Caleb asked, a look of confusion etched over his features.

Kara handed them a sat phone. “My dad’s got extras of these on the ship. You guys might need it.”

“Seriously?”

Kara nodded. “You’ve got a few numbers in there to get ahold of us.” She smiled. “It’ll be good to hear from you guys every once in a while, you know?”

“Of course,” Rosie said, squeezing Caleb’s hand.

“One more thing,” Kara said. “I need someone to take care of Dancer for a while.”

“Why’s that?” Caleb asked.

“Where I’m going, there isn’t room for a horse. I’d like someone I can trust to watch over him, and if you two are planning on traveling anywhere with Brenna, figured you could use a third horse.”

“Oh, Kara, thank you.” Rosie wrapped her arms around Kara again. “Seriously, thanks for everything. I owe you my life.”

Kara let go of Rosie. “Just please take care of your sister, and you two take care of each other. That’s all I ask.”

She left the pair and said her goodbyes to Dancer. She hadn’t had the horse all that long, but she’d been attached to him. She pressed her forehead to his nose and scratched his chin.

“Be good for them,” she whispered.

Dancer whinnied as she left.

It hurt to have to give Dancer up to Caleb and Rosie. Maybe someday she could return for him. But she’d been given a nearly impossible choice. Stay with the horse on her own, riding across America, or head back to the ship with her dad and, importantly, her own sister.

Once Rachel had been released from the clinic, the group loaded up on the Zodiacs, Kara included. She sat at the bow of the RIB as they traveled across the Chesapeake to their ship. Sun glinted off the whitecaps as her boat was craned up into the loading bay. She could hardly contain her excitement as it grew level with the deck.

The engineer manning the controls of the davit was none other than a certain auburn-haired woman a few years younger than Kara.

“Sadie!”

Sadie’s eyes lit up in excitement when she saw Kara step off the Zodiac. The younger woman rushed toward her, and they met in a deep embrace.

“I can’t believe it’s really you,” Sadie said, a tear trickling from her eye.

“Who else would it be?” Kara asked.

The other Hunters greeted the rest of the crew waiting aboard the loading bay. She saw a few familiar faces from the engineering crew and the science and tech teams. Her eyes worked through the crowd until they met another man’s she hadn’t spoken to in some time.

Navid.

He gave her a warm smile and a sheepish wave. For a second, he reminded her of the young man he’d been when they first met right in the middle of the Tide.

“Are you staying this time?” Sadie asked.

Kara met her sister’s eyes. She remembered the first time she risked her life to save Sadie from Skulls. How they’d barely survived in their childhood home together for those first few days when Skulls swarmed across the country. Then how they’d lived aboard a ship just like this together, before being abducted by the FGL.

So much had happened in what felt like a lifetime ago. Every time she saw her sister’s face, she couldn’t help but think of the pain and hope and fear and determination they’d shared because of and despite it all.

If her father and Meredith were right, the Children of Kusanagi were just the beginning. They’d all thought the apocalypse had been averted after the Tide. In reality, it may have only just begun.

Kara would be damned if she spent whatever time civilization had left anywhere but beside her sister and father.

“Yeah, Sadie. I’m staying.”

The end of After the Tide, Book 1

FOR THE READER

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading After the Tide. Kara, Dom, Miguel, and all the other characters in this book have been stewing in my mind for a while. I finished the main Tide series back in 2019. But the characters and their stories apparently weren’t finished with me.

So, I hope you enjoyed this first entry back into the world of the Oni Agent and Skulls. I really had a blast resurrecting the science of these zombie-like monsters. If you have already read the main ten-book series, you’ll be ready for the upcoming twists and the increasingly macabre monsters haunting this post-apocalyptic world. The world of After the Tide has plenty yet to explore.

If you haven’t read The Tide, but want to know the history of the Hunters and how America became what it is in After the Tide, you can check out the series here: https://amzn.to/3OcDMd4

In the meantime, if you’re interested in future releases and other works of mine, please consider joining my mailing list. I won’t spam you and I won’t share your email: https://bit.ly/ajmlist

I love to hear from readers. If you want to get in touch, there are a number of ways to reach me.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/anthonyjmelchiorri

Email: ajm@anthonyjmelchiorri.com

Website: http://www.anthonyjmelchiorri.com

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Anthony J Melchiorri is a scientist with a PhD in bioengineering. Originally from the Midwest, he now lives in Colorado. By day, he develops cellular therapies and 3D-printable artificial organs. By night, he writes apocalyptic, medical, and science-fiction thrillers that blend real-world research with other-worldly possibility. When he isn't in the lab or at the keyboard, he spends his time running, reading, hiking, and traveling in search of new story ideas.

Read more at http://anthonyjmelchiorri.com and sign up for his mailing list at http://bit.ly/ajmlist to hear about his latest releases and news.