“Sir, when the B-52s hit the Omaha wave, we initially thought the strike had wiped them out. They were just… gone. But the other five waves we were monitoring disappeared at the same time. Their advances suddenly stopped, and all the infrared signatures disappeared in the span of a few minutes.”
“You said you think they went underground?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve got people on the ground in the area of the Omaha strike. They’re reporting the bombing killed hundreds of the things. They’ve recovered a number of the bodies for analysis as well, sir.”
“Good. Maybe we can figure out what the hell caused this.”
“Yes, sir. Some of the things were in the process of going to ground when they were killed by the strike. From the looks of it, the ones that survived the bombing escaped by quickly tunneling underground. We assume they’re still there, Mr. President.”
“How deep did they go?”
“We’re trying to ascertain that right now, sir. We’ve got ground imaging radar being flown into the area. If they’re not too deep, we can bomb the bastards out.”
“And if they’re too deep?”
“We’re working on that, sir.”
“The same thing happened with the other five waves? At the same time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Were they under attack as well?”
“The B-52s weren’t hitting them yet — tactical aircraft, cluster bombs, no heavy bombardment. It wasn’t making much of a dent in their numbers.”
“So what you’re telling me is they went to ground for some reason other than being under attack?”
“Yes, sir, it would appear so.”
“How long until we have the ground radar in position?”
“It should be outside Omaha within the hour, Mr. President.”
“If we can kill them, General, I want air strikes lined up and ready to go as soon as we know. If they’re too deep, I want options.”
“Understand, sir.”
“Thank you, General.” The president disconnected the line and pushed another button connecting him to his secretary of Homeland Security. Hugo McIntyre’s voice came on a few seconds later.
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Hugo, what’s the status of the evacuations?”
“Sir, it’s not going as well as we’d hoped.”
The president listened as Hugo McIntyre told him the bad news. Even though the exercises had gone relatively well, and the American people were much more prepared for a citywide evacuation now than they’d ever been in the past, he’d known it wouldn’t go smoothly. The people knew what was coming, and some had panicked. The highways were jammed with traffic, hopelessly stalled by wrecks that were taking much too long to clear. Many had died in the rush to evacuate, and it was possible many more would die as the process continued. It was inevitable.
The president knew it would be a game of numbers. A cold calculus. The number to die in the evacuations would be much less than those who would die if the things made it into the cities. They’d already lost over half a million people in a little more than twenty-four hours. That number by itself was hard to stomach, but Andrew Smith knew it could be much, much worse. If the things hadn’t stopped when they did…
“Hugo, I want those cities cleared. I don’t care what kind of resources you need to do it. We have a pause right now, and I don’t know how long it will last. So far, the things have only been active at night. If this remains so, we have about ten hours before they start moving again.”
“We’re doing all we can, sir.”
“I know. Keep pressing, Hugo.”
“Yes, sir.”
The president ended the call. “Jessie, I want the bodies of those things completely analyzed. I want to know what made them, I want to know what makes them tick, and I want to know how to kill them.”
“Yes, Mr. President.” She turned to leave.
“And Jessie?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Thanks for letting me get some sleep. I needed it.”
“You’re welcome, sir.” She smiled. For an instant, it seemed like she was going to say something else, but the moment slipped away as she turned to leave.
Andrew watched her leave, wishing he’d met her in another time and another place, where he could tell her how he felt. As the door swung shut behind her, he felt incredibly alone. He needed a partner now more than ever, someone he could talk to without a professional barrier, someone who could listen to his doubts, listen to his fears, and help him shoulder all the burdens resting solidly, and completely, on his shoulders. Since Kate’s death, he hadn’t had that kind of closeness with anyone. She’d guided him through his military career and through the first tough year of his administration. Always there, always listening, always understanding. Oh, how he needed her now.
But Kate was dead and gone. And she would never come back.
Alone in the situation room, the president covered his face with his hands as the tears slowly streamed down his face.
CHAPTER 24
Carolyn screamed.
In front of her was a beast standing on two crooked legs, its long, clawed arms reaching for her, glowing eyes burning right into her own eyes like two fiery shafts of pain. She tried to run, but couldn’t. She felt its cold, leathery hands grasp her head, felt the pain as its claws dug into her cheeks and scalp, and sickeningly realized she was about to die as the thing began to twist. She heard the bones in her neck snap as her head was wrenched from her shoulders—
“Ms. Ridenour? Carolyn, wake up, it’s okay. You’re safe now! Carolyn?”
She opened her eyes—a hospital? A man was leaning over her. He was wearing a white coat, and a stethoscope hung from his neck. She could smell the distinctive medical stink that she hated so much: heavy disinfectant, sterile, suffocating. “Where am I?” she asked.
“You’re in a hospital in Omaha, Ms. Ridenour. My name is Doctor Tanner.”
“What happened? Why am I—”
“There was a crash, Carolyn. You were brought here after your helicopter went down. Do you remember?”
She did.
The snapping tree branches. The smell of sap.
The yellow eyes.
Her memories came flooding back. “There was a thing in the chopper! It killed the pilot — oh God, it killed the soldiers! They were shooting it, but it wouldn’t die! It got into the cockpit and grabbed the pilot and—”
Doctor Tanner held her steady. “It’s all right now. It’s dead.”
She didn’t want to ask the next question. “Is anyone… My team was on that chopper—”
The doctor stood. His face said it all.
Carolyn’s heart sank. All of them, dead? “Did anyone survive?”
“No, ma’am. I’m very sorry.”
Carolyn closed her eyes tightly as the faces of her team flashed through her mind. Her memories of them were all smiles, laughter, and camaraderie. They’d been her coworkers. They’d been her friends.
She tried to suppress the sobs rising in her throat, tried hard to stay strong. A tear ran down her cheek as she felt someone sit down on the side of her bed.
“Ms. Ridenour?”
She opened her eyes and saw a soldier sitting by her side. She immediately recognized him as the Army officer she’d met at Kansas City International — Colonel Hoffman. “You were at—”
“Kansas City. The airport. I met you when your team arrived.”
Carolyn remembered seeing the things sweep over the tarmac, killing everyone in their path, jumping on the helicopters trying to take off. She didn’t think anyone could’ve survived. “You made it out?”