The Tide: Breakwater (Tide Series Book 2) (19 page)

“Right.” Chao tapped on the touchpad, and the high-res satellite imagery moved to part of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge leading to Kent Island. A two-hundred-yard section of the bridge was simply gone. Several large columns rose out of the water where the toll road had been, but they had nothing to support. All across the rest of the four-mile bridge lay the charred and oftentimes still smoking remains of cars. The images were detailed enough to show bodies littering the span of the bridge. “As you can see, half the job’s done for us. Samantha did a bit of digging and found out the Air Force ordered a strike. Maryland’s National Guard couldn’t keep people in Annapolis and Baltimore inside the quarantine zone after the initial outbreak. Destroying the bridge was a last resort. Looks like the same thing happened at several metropolitan locations around the US, but that’s beside the point.”

Chao gestured to the eastern side of the bridge. Once again, the image shifted. This time it focused on a line of police cars and civilian vehicles. They appeared orderly, as if they’d all been intentionally and meticulously parked along the bridge over Kent Island. At the end of the row, sandbags had been placed behind a series of makeshift walls. Scores of people seemed to be milling about near these barriers.

“Kent Island isn’t too densely populated,” Chao said, “but it looks like the locals took to defending their turf.”

“Hopefully that means the towns on the island haven’t been hit too hard by the Skulls,” Dom said. “But either way, that small force won’t stand up to a Skull horde like the ones we saw in Frederick. We need to reinforce them if we’re going to secure this island for use as a safe zone. Which leads me to my next question: What’s the situation at the Naval Academy?”

Chao’s fingers drummed along the pad once more. A new map popped up. This time it displayed the crisp green lawns, verdant trees, and orderly, rectangular buildings of the United States Naval Academy. Time-lapse satellite imagery showed enough detail to reveal that a tide of Skulls had swept through the campus. They’d rolled through the parade grounds and out to the Dewey Seawall. Packs of them had roved along Santee Basin where the academy’s seacraft were docked.

“Here’s the latest images,” Chao said. “More time-lapse photos.”

The new view showed dozens of Skulls outside Halsey Field House. Yet the mass of monsters wasn’t moving.

“They look like they’re all taking a nap,” Miguel said. “I thought you said this was time-lapse imagery.”

“It is,” Dom said, understanding immediately. “These Skulls are dead, aren’t they?”

Samantha nodded, taking over for Chao. “That’s right. I ran the images through an anomaly detection algorithm I wrote.”

Dom raised his eyebrows, his oft-used gesture to get Samantha to speak in layman’s terms.

“Basically, we know the Skulls like to move. Even when they’re tired and hungry, they keep moving. Slowly, maybe, but they keep going.” She pointed to the tabletop image. “In this sequence, the Skulls aren’t moving, even while other packs are roaming through the city.”

“So maybe these Skulls are dead tired?” Miguel offered.

“Or just plain dead,” Samantha said.

“They didn’t just drop dead for no reason.” Dom leaned over the table to get a better view of the scene. He pointed at the field house around where Samantha claimed the Skulls had died. “This is where the academy’s survivors are organizing their resistance.”

Thomas sidled up to Dom and squinted at the projected satellite photography. “It looks like they’ve still got plenty of sea craft in the basin. Why didn’t they just make an escape?”

It was a valid question, but Dom figured the midshipmen and officers alive at the academy had far more honor than that. He used a finger to indicate the field house’s location again. “That building is right near the visitor’s entrance and the pedestrian gate into the Academy. If I were to guess, those men and women are housing civilians, and they’re not about to abandon their guard.”

“Right,” Meredith said. “And they’re isolated in the field house. Even if they could ferry the civilians out in shifts, they’d have no idea where to take them.”

“Exactly,” Dom said. “Which is why our mission will be doubly crucial. Here’s how we kill two birds with one stone: We’ll liberate the survivors in the field house and help them establish a secure ferry line between Annapolis and Kent Island. Once we’ve evacuated all the survivors, we can direct any armed midshipmen, officers, or local law enforcement we rescue to help keep the barricade safe on the Bay Bridge to Kent.”

He considered the plight of the
Queen of the Bay
. After losing Hector and managing only to save a single family from within the depths of that hellish ship, he’d ordered his team to leave the rest of the passengers, giving the poor survivors little more than a rain check for their rescue. At best, the mission remained incomplete. At worst—if he neglected the ship—it would be an utter failure.

“When Kent is secure,” Dom continued, “we go back for the
Queen of the Bay
and any other passenger vessels still in need of dry land.” He used the Chesapeake Bay map to indicate the flotilla of ships. “Lauren and her team can set up a triage to ensure all survivors are free and clear of the Oni Agent and administer the chelation therapy to anyone who was recently infected.” He turned toward Miguel and Renee. “Have all Hunters prep their gear. Meet in the cargo bay at 1400 hours for a briefing and immediate departure.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Miguel and Renee said in unison. They jogged out into the passageway together.

When the door shut behind them, Meredith bit her bottom lip. Dom knew that expression well. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just because the Skulls outside the field house are dead, how do we know that living ones didn’t make it inside?”

Dom understood the unspoken implications. Maybe there weren’t any survivors. Maybe this entire mission and everything that hinged on it was a wasteful risk. He gulped, not wanting to believe the possibility.

“Take a look at this.” Chao directed the satellite images to focus on a section of flat roof on the field house. An inverted American flag flew from a pole, a historical signal of maritime distress. “According to our images, this was added to the field house no more than an hour ago.”

An hour
. Dom knew how much could change in an hour when Skulls were involved. He thought back to Hector being impaled by the sneaking, lithe Skull. A lot could change in minutes—or seconds.

Could he expend more of the
Huntress’s
depleting resources on another high-risk mission? And what would he do if he lost another Hunter?

He shook those thoughts away.

His priority when he’d joined the CIA, started his covert ops organization, and now surviving in what might very well be the apocalypse had always been clear in his mind: to save as many lives as he could.

Meredith was still looking at him, waiting for his decision.

“We’re going in today,” Dom said, “and we’re going to find survivors.”

––––––––

D
om scanned the map of the academy a final time. “Good work, techies.”

Thomas brushed a hand through his thinning gray hair. “You guys”—Samantha glared at him—“and gal deserve a commendation for accomplishing all this in such a short time.”

“Definitely,” Dom said. “But there were two other things I asked before we left.”

“We didn’t forget.” Adam opened his laptop and placed it on the electronic glass table. He adjusted his glasses over the bandages he still wore and then tapped his keys. The small image from his screen took the place of the academy map. It showed a chart of the United States coast with glowing white dots. “I know you’re probably getting tired of looking at maps, but I’ve indicated all likely locations where we can obtain a resupply. These are active military bases and supply depots—or at least they were active before the outbreak.”

“Good, very good,” Dom said. He recognized many of the locations, ranging from Brunswick, Maine, to Key West, Florida.

“Should we try opening lines of communication?”

“Not yet,” Dom said. “Last time I spoke with General Kinsey, he didn’t seem too supportive of our efforts. My guess is we’ll get one shot to convince him to help us establish a resupply.” He could see the gears turning behind Samantha’s eyes as he spoke.

“And you want us to wait until”—Samantha held up a finger—“we get to the final task you gave us. Once we identify a neuro lab with surviving scientists we can recruit to help Lauren’s team, then you’ll contact Kinsey.”

“Exactly. It would be better if we have a direct plan of action, and I don’t have to be wishy-washy with the details. We can organize a resupply while we make our way to a lab. Kinsey doesn’t have a lot of time, and he has even less patience. So have you found any potential labs?”

Adam tugged at his beard. “Yes, actually, we’re investigating a number of possibilities. You can thank your daughter for her help, too.”

“Kara?”

“That’s right,” Adam said. “She wanted something to do, so I had her help me expand our candidate list of neuroscience and neurodegenerative disease researchers and labs in the United States and beyond. I think it’s pretty extensive. Now it’s just a matter of finding which ones actually have survivors.”

“Thanks for keeping her busy. I know she hates sitting still. Bed rest to her is like being put in the brig.”

“You got it, Captain.”

“One final thing,” Dom said. “While we get ready, I want you three to put Lauren in contact with Detrick. See if they have any updates on the research front, because I know we sure as hell haven’t had time for any.”

“Will do,” Samantha said, already picking up a handset. “I’ll call her in now.”

“Keep up the good work.” Dom left the workshop, trailed by Meredith and Thomas. They walked down the passageway now churning with Hunters running back and forth with equipment and weapons. The sounds of their voices, stern and curt, echoed off the bulkhead. They dodged Dom as they flew past on whatever urgent errand needed to be completed before the next mission.

“I take it I’m on ship-babysitting duty again,” Thomas said.

Dom clapped the man’s shoulder. “That you are. I’ll have you bring the
Huntress
as close as you can to the basin at the academy. Keep tabs on the comms in case we need to set up an evac.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. If you need a quick getaway or if things get hairy out there, I’ll be waiting for you.” Thomas jogged down the passageway toward the ladders to the pilothouse. The Hunters dashing between the armory and the cargo bay had since departed.

That left Meredith alone with Dom once again. “You going to finish that thought from earlier?” she asked.

“About?”

“Don’t play coy.” She brushed her hand against the back of his, a gesture imperceptible to anyone who might happen to glance in their direction. But the touch of her skin against his sent a warm feeling through Dom. “You were never one to express your emotions well, but I’ve known you for over twenty years. You might fool everyone else, but you can’t lie to me.”

Dom sighed. There were so many objectives in the upcoming missions, so many demands on him as he did his best to fight the Oni Agent outbreak. “Look, Meredith, back when we were in Frederick, when you were unconscious after the bus crash...” He met her gaze. “I won’t lie to you. It almost killed me to see you like that. And it seems casualties follow me. My own daughter, for God’s sake...” He turned away.

“I’m sorry, Dom.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry about. These people—my crew, you, and my family—all trust me. I’m supposed to lead everyone in a world where all the rules have changed.” He leaned in. “I won’t tell my crew this, but I’m making this shit up as I go. There’s no training, no handbook, no special-forces boot camp that prepares you to kill hordes of sick civilians infected with a biological agent that turns them into monsters.”

“I’m not arguing with you there.”

“So the thing is, my crew is in this fight with me. It’s what they signed up to do. But you and my girls—you didn’t choose this. You didn’t sign a contract to be a covert mercenary or do battle with the Skulls.”

“But I did choose to join the CIA. I took an oath to protect others without so much as a public thank you.”

“That’s true,” Dom said. “And if I’m being honest with you, it’s more than who took what oath. I don’t want to see you or my daughters end up dead.” He thought of his ex-wife again, trapped in their old house, her body mutated by the Oni Agent. He imagined that fate for Meredith, and he shuddered. “Or worse, see any of you turned into a Skull.”

***

M
eredith counted her magazines one more time before cinching up her tactical vest. She readjusted it to sit evenly on her shoulders and fit snugly on her natural waistline before joining up with the rest of the Hunters. They stood in the brightly lit cargo bay as the ship’s engineers prepped the Zodiacs for departure. The ship rocked back and forth slowly, and the slap of the waves against its hull echoed softly in the cavernous hold.

Near her, Owen inserted his last magazine into a pocket. The slim but muscular former Ranger was about young enough to be Meredith’s son. It was a stark reminder that she was about to embark on a mission where she had an extra ten to twenty years on most of her teammates.

“You feeling okay?” Owen said to Meredith in a lowered voice.

She must’ve been letting her nerves get the better of her, so she quickly steeled herself. “I’m fine,” she said. But her thoughts lingered around the mess that was their last mission. She’d managed to keep pace with the team and prayed she could do so again.

Owen flashed a smile. “I saw the feeds from the
Queen of the Bay
. Didn’t seem like you had a problem jumping back in the saddle.” But his smile faded, and Meredith guessed what he was thinking. Although she had lived, Hector, a more experienced Hunter and former SEAL, had not.

Meredith strapped on her thigh holster. She watched Owen’s face turn contemplative as his eyes stared at some point only he could see. She had been around field operatives long enough to know what that expression meant. And she knew if someone didn’t intervene, Owen would soon be spiraling into a dark abyss of “what if” and “it should’ve been me on that mission.”