The 6th Extinction (Sigma Force 10)

That must never happen.

Cutter read the resolution in his face and gave a sad shake of his head. “So be it. Then we’ll have to do it the hard way.”

Kendall felt his knees shake. He would do his best to hold out against whatever torture would follow.

Cutter turned to Jenna while waving a hand to Rahei. “We’ll start with her and make Kendall watch, so he’ll better understand what’s to come.”

1:00 P.M.

“One hour out!” Suarez called from up front, seated next to the Valor’s pilot.

Painter looked out the window behind his bandaged shoulder. Before lift-off, he had popped a handful of ibuprofen and abandoned his sling, but even this small movement triggered a dagger-stab of pain. He studied the passing terrain, seeing only the green sea below the droning nacelles of the tiltrotor. Somewhere ahead lay their destination, the tepui where the dead man, Cutter Elwes, might have made his home.

And hopefully where we’ll find Jenna and Dr. Hess.

Time was rapidly running out.

He still had the satellite phone pressed to his ear. “There’s no way to hold Lindahl off?” he asked.

Lisa answered, “The weather patterns have changed in the last hour. And not for the better. The next storm front is moving in faster than originally projected, expected to hit the mountains by midafternoon. The wind speeds and rainfall estimates suggest this storm will be three to four times as fierce as the prior one. Because of that threat, the timetable for the nuclear option has shifted from sundown to noon.”

Noon . . .

He checked his watch and calculated the time difference. That was only two hours from now. And they were still sixty minutes out from reaching the tepui, leaving them almost no time to find Kendall Hess and discover if a non-nuclear option for dealing with the threat existed.

Painter recognized the impossible task before him. He stared at the Marines around him. He was flanked by Sergeant Suarez’s two men: Abramson and Henckel. Across the cabin, Drake conversed in low tones with Malcolm and Schmitt. He took strength from the rugged team accompanying him.

Still . . .

“When are they evacuating the base?” he asked.

“It’s already under way. The National Guard combed the countryside at daybreak, clearing any recalcitrant locals who hadn’t obeyed the mandatory evacuation order. Base personnel are breaking down the labs, moving Josh as I speak.”

“And you and Nikko?”

“I don’t trust Lindahl. I’m going to wait for the last bus out. Sarah . . . Corporal Jessup has prepped a small helicopter to ferry us out of harm’s way.”

“Don’t wait too long,” he warned, fear for her drying out his mouth.

“I won’t. Edmund updates me regularly on the status of the nuclear team who are prepping the device. They’re still doing final calculations. The plan is to lift the bomb via a drone helicopter to a specific altitude for maximum effect across the local mountaintops and valleys. The team is still working on those last details.” Lisa’s voice hardened. “So, Painter, you need to find something . . . if not a cure, at least some hope to delay the inevitable.”

Painter sighed heavily. It was a tall order. Even if he could discover some solution to this threat—some unknown biological counteragent—could it be engineered or employed fast enough to discourage this pending nuclear response?

“I’ll do all I can,” Painter promised.

He said his good-byes and ended the call, resting the phone on his lap.

Drake must have read his face. “Let me guess. The news from home isn’t good.”

He slowly shook his head.

Not good at all.

With a twinge from his shoulder, he turned to the window, finally noting a distant dark mountain rising near the horizon.

I doubt the situation is any better over there.

1:05 P.M.

“This may sting,” Cutter Elwes said.

Jenna sat on a chair in the lab, pinned in place by the hulking native, Mateo. It was the same man who had ambushed her at that hilltop ghost town. She recognized him from the purplish scar running down his cheek to his chin. It seemed everything had come full circle.

“Don’t do this,” Kendall said. “Please.”

Cutter straightened, holding a pistol-shaped tool in his hand. She recognized a modified jet injector used for delivering vaccines. Sticking out the top was an inverted vial, holding an amber liquid.

She suspected she wasn’t being threatened by a flu shot.

“Simply tell me the name of the XNA species that is the biological key,” Cutter told Kendall. “And none of this nastiness needs to continue.”

“Don’t do it,” Jenna said. Fingers dug painfully into her shoulders, warning her to stay silent, but she ignored the threat. “Don’t give him what he wants.”

Kendall clearly vacillated, but finally he crossed his arms.

“Very well,” Cutter said.

The dark woman, Rahei, tugged Jenna’s sleeve higher up her arm.

Cutter pressed the muzzle of the injector against her shoulder. “Last chance, Kendall.”

The researcher’s gaze shifted guiltily away from her.

Cutter gave a small shrug and pulled the trigger. Compressed gas whistled, and a sharp bite penetrated her skin, felt all the way down to the bone.

She swore under her breath as Mateo released her. She rubbed her arm and gained her feet. “What was that?”

Cutter lifted the injector, sloshing around the remainder of the vial’s contents. “Non-enveloped viral RNA.”

Jenna recalled the discussion from earlier. “It’s that genetic code you engineered. The one that affects the brain.”

“Correct. But in its current form, it’s only mildly infectious and very fragile to environmental stresses. It’s why I need Kendall’s viral shell.”

She understood. He wanted to engineer a superbug that could knock the human race back to the Stone Age—or even before the Stone Age.

“But in its raw state,” he added, “the neurological damage will be the same.”

She took a deep breath, fearful of the answer to her next question. “How long do I have?”

“You should start feeling the effects within the next thirty minutes. Mild fever, slight headache, neck stiffness . . . then over the following few hours, the degenerative changes will progress at an exponential pace. Language is usually affected first, then complex thoughts, finally the sense of self wears away, leaving only base desires and survival instinct.”