The Legacy of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 6) Read online

  "The basilisks stuffed the boy with explosives," Bay said, voice hollow, barely audible. "They're monsters. They're evil."

  "Not a boy." Rowan shook her head. "Not anymore. Whatever he was, it wasn't human anymore."

  Bay's hearing was slowly returning. He clenched his jaw, struggling not to faint, and approached the wounded. The medics had died in the river. Bay, Rowan, and the others did their best—tying tourniquets around stumps, bandaging wounds, supplying morphine. Rowan passed her Harmonians into the wounded. The healing microorganisms did what they could, but some of the wounds were beyond even their powers. They flowed back into Rowan, leaving some soldiers healed, others still dying.

  "Fill two tanks with the wounded," Bay told a captain. "Take them home."

  "There are no bridges left, sir!" the captain said. "The Ra damn snakes crushed both bridges onto the island. The tunnel caved in. We're trapped here."

  Bay cursed himself for forgetting.

  Muck. Trapped. Trapped here on this island of evil.

  "Then get them to the riverbank!" he said. "Lead them north along the water. Get them away from the fighting. Treat them as best you can."

  The captain saluted. "Yes, sir."

  As the two tanks rumbled off, carrying the wounded, Rowan approached Bay. She gripped his arm.

  "Bay, I had to bite my tongue back there. I didn't want to contradict you in front of the troops. But we need all the tanks we can get."

  "Some of the wounded can still be saved," Bay said. "But they need protection. They need walls of metal around them."

  Rowan's eyes flashed. "What about sacrificing lives to save the world? That was your speech."

  Bay's throat caught.

  That was before I saw a naked, deformed boy tear my soldiers apart, he thought.

  Maybe Rowan saw the pain in his eyes. Her expression softened. She touched his hand, a bit of gentleness in hell.

  "Let's keep going," Bay said. "Let's kill these sons of bitches."

  The naked boy had left dusty footprints. The troops followed them around the block.

  Bay froze and stared.

  Rowan paused beside him and gulped.

  "What the hell is that?" Rowan whispered, reaching for his hand.

  "Central Park," Bay said.

  They had both spent many hours—probably thousands of hours, in Rowan's case—watching movies from ancient Earth. They were both familiar with Central Park, an oasis of greenery in the urban jungle. The park was still here. But everything was different.

  The trees were now gray and black, twisting and coiling, covered in oozing lumps. What Bay mistook at first for leaves were rustling fingers—thousands of blackened fingers growing from the branches, fingernails cracked, reaching out toward him. The trees' rough bark seemed like burnt skin, stretched thin across raw flesh. Strange animals moved along the branches. Oily birds. Insects. Dark slugs, dripping, hissing, baring fangs.

  "What the hell happened here?" Bay said, voice strained.

  Rowan stared with dark eyes. "The basilisks are fascinated with genetic engineering. It's how Xerka changed herself, becoming part human. I think it's what Mairead saw in New York last year. What haunted her until her death." Rowan shook her head in disgust. "These are no trees. They're alien experiments."

  Bay looked down. The boy's dusty footprints led into this unholy forest.

  He looked back at Rowan. "The hostages might be in there. They sent the boy from the park."

  Rowan pulled out her map again. "Our intel said they're hiding in Times Square. That's across the park." She looked at the forest again and grimaced. "We should walk around it."

  "Hostages can be moved," Bay said. "Remember, Rowan. We came here to scour this city. Otherwise, we could have bombed it from the air. If there are more boys in the park, maybe we can save them."

  "Bay." Rowan grabbed his arm. "Central Park is eight hundred and fifty acres. It's a goddamn forest."

  "Then we better get started." Bay turned toward the troops. "Everyone—into your tanks! Nobody else in the open."

  They all climbed into their tanks, cramming ten soldiers into each. Bay shared a tank with Rowan. While the others sat below, the two stood in the gun turret, wanting a clearer view.

  "I really need to improve the monitors in the tank." Rowan sighed. "Still, not bad for a project that only took us six months."

  The tanks rumbled across the road, cracking the asphalt, and rolled into the forest.

  When the tanks hit the first row of trees, the trees screamed.

  Bay grimaced.

  "What the muck?" he spat.

  Rowan covered her ears. "It's horrible."

  The tanks froze. Several trees were crushed beneath them. Branches stuck out from under the tracks, cracked open to reveal bones. The fingers were twitching. The trees had no mouths, but still they screamed. Horrible sounds, almost human. Screams of pain.

  "What the hell are these things?" Bay said, nausea rising in him. "Are those trees … human?"

  Rowan tightened her lips. "No. Not anymore. And if they ever were …" A tear flowed down her cheek. "Then the best we can do is kill them."

  They drove onward. Thirty tanks. Crushing trees. And the trees kept screaming—on and on, a horrible din, a sound Bay knew would always haunt him. Blood poured from the trees like sap, spreading across the forest floor. As the tanks drove onward, it seemed to Bay that he could make out words among the screams.

  "Please …" the trees seemed to say. "It hurts … Please …"

  "We need to burn this whole forest down," Rowan said, fists clenched.

  "Not before we find the hostages," Bay said.

  They moved deeper into the forest. Yes, this was no longer a park. Not a place of sunlight and greenery. This was an old forest—dank, twisting, rotting. The trees loomed overhead, hiding the sun. Their branches twisted like broken limbs. Cracks opened on their trunks, revealing fleshy wounds that smacked, gurgled, seemed to mock the advancing troops. The creatures in the branches stared, dripping slime that sizzled against the tanks. One slug crawled along an overhanging branch, oozing. A glob hit Bay's arm, burning him. He cursed, brushed it off with his glove, then shot the slug in the branches.

  "Bay, don't waste bullets," Rowan said.

  "Best damn bullet I ever fired," Bay said, looking at the burn mark on his arm.

  They kept advancing, mowing down trees. Soon they were a kilometer deep into the park, then two, then three. They could no longer see the city. They might as well have been lost in the wilderness—or on another world.

  Creatures beyond mere slugs were moving in the forest. Bay glimpsed rotting deer with human faces, their bone-white antlers forming intricate crowns. Other creatures looked almost like men, but pale as ghosts, skeletal, faceless. Some wore ancient military uniforms. Rusty helmets. Chipped bayonets. Ghosts of a long lost age.

  "What is this place?" Bay whispered.

  Rowan frowned. "Bay." She pointed. "What …"

  A large rat-like creature stood on a branch, naked and hissing. The face was bloated, inhuman, sprouting red hair. Staring with green eyes. A face oddly familiar.

  "Is that Mairead?" Rowan whispered.

  The rodent vanished into the forest.

  Bay shuddered. "All right. We need to leave this forest. Now." He raised his comm. "Tanks—full speed ahead! Plow through this forest!"

  The tanks were crude machines, hastily assembled from scrap metal, but their engines were powerful, originally built to propel starfighters through space. They roared forward at top speed, shattering trees, raising clouds of soil, bark, and blood. Fingers twitched behind them, severed from the branches. They were several kilometers in now. It was hard to imagine that a forest so large could exist within a city.

  "One could get lost in here for days," Bay mused, leaning forward in his tank's open hatch.

  "This place was like a dream once." Rowan slipped her hand into his. "Now it's a nightmare."

  "This place will be beautiful aga
in." Bay nodded. "I swear it. We'll plant trees, real trees, and—"

  A basilisk cackled in the trees above, staring with red eyes.

  "Die, apes!" the beast shrieked.

  Bay cursed, aimed his rifle, but before he could fire—the ground opened up before him.

  His tank plunged downward.

  Bay screamed. As he fell, he glimpsed other holes opening up across the forest. More tanks were falling in. More basilisks were laughing in the trees.

  And then he was in darkness. Falling underground. Shouting. And Rowan was pulling him into the tank's hold, and soil and roots and stones crashed onto them, and the soldiers inside the tank rattled and hit the walls and screamed.

  They slammed onto the bottom.

  But the landing was surprisingly soft. As if landing on a pile of mattresses.

  Bay, Rowan, and eight other soldiers sat inside the tank, bruised and silent. The hatch was still open above.

  And then a basilisk plunged through the hatch, shrieking.

  The beast moved so fast Bay barely saw it. It descended, opened its jaws wide, and snatched up a sergeant. It pulled back, devouring the man, sucking up the torso and arms, leaving only kicking legs.

  Bay cried out, raised his rifle, but dared not shoot, knowing he'd only kill his comrade.

  The basilisk retreated from the tank, taking the man with him.

  The soldiers inside the tank shouted in fear. One man began firing through the hatch. A screech sounded above.

  "Hold your fire!" Bay cried. "We might hurt the sergeant. We—"

  Two more basilisks dived through the hatch. This time the soldiers were ready. They all fired their guns. Bay roared as a bullet ricocheted and stung his thigh. Their bullets slammed into the basilisks. The alien serpents slid into the tank, thumping down between the soldiers. Each was the size of a python.

  Bay tried to grab the hatch, to pull it shut. But a basilisk grabbed the metal door, yanked back hard, and tore it free. Bay stared in shock. The hatch was meant to withstand grenade assaults. And the damn snake tore it off like a wooden door.

  More of the aliens poured in.

  Bay howled and fired, desperate to hold them back.

  The beasts were everywhere. All around the tank. Bay could hear them screeching outside, clawing at the armored hull. The tank—this mighty vehicle that weighed sixty tons—was rocking. He fired through the hatch. Rowan stood at his side, firing with him. Another dead basilisk slumped into the tank. A live one followed, surviving the hailstorm of bullets. The beast lunged, grabbed a corporal, and devoured the screaming woman.

  Bay fired again and again. He hit the basilisk, tearing through its scales. The snake died, disgorging the corporal. More basilisks flowed in. More bullets rang out. Another shard of bullet hit Bay, cutting the armor on his shoulder. More bullets ricocheted, cutting other soldiers.

  The basilisks kept coming. An endless torrent. They piled up inside the tank. The soldiers had to stand on the scaly corpses. Another basilisk managed to grab a soldier, to pull him out of the tank.

  "Where the hell is everyone?" Bay shouted into his comm. "Give me your status!"

  But he heard only screams and shrieks from the other end.

  The tank rocked madly. One side of the tank dented—then cracked open.

  Fangs thrust through the crack. Jaws bit the hull, twisting the metal, widening the opening.

  Bay shouted and fired. The jaws retreated from the hole. Claws replaced them, reaching into the tank. A claw grabbed a soldier's leg and shattered the bone, then tore the leg off.

  Another hole tore open. More claws reached in. More blood spilled. The hull was crumbling.

  "We'll fight our way out!" Bay shouted to his crew's survivors. "This tank is lost! Up through the hatch!"

  Claws were now tearing through the floor. More claws reached in, grabbing, slicing. Bay fired several bullets, clearing an opening through the hatch. He grabbed the rim and pulled himself out.

  He found himself in a pit of snakes.

  He stood atop the tank. Several other tanks lay around him.

  They had fallen several meters into a trench. Basilisks filled the pit. Thousands of them. All piled up together, slithering, hissing, crushing the tanks.

  Scaly heads rose from the wriggling mass, turned toward Bay, and hissed.

  The serpents had torn off the machine gun normally mounted atop the tank. But Bay still had Lawless. He shouted, loaded a fresh magazine, and switched the rifle to automatic. He spun in a circle, spraying bullets.

  Snakes fell around him.

  Rowan leaped out from the tank too. She stood beside Bay, firing Lullaby. Her pistol was smaller than Lawless, but still a beast of a weapon, its bolts flying at supersonic speed to crash through basilisk skulls.

  Other soldiers climbed out—the last survivors of the crew. The basilisks kept disassembling the tank, pulling its components downward into the pit. Bay didn't even know how deep this pit went. All he could see was the writhing mass of snakes. Central Park was several meters above—too high to jump or climb.

  "Rowan, reach into my pack!" Bay shouted over the roar of bullets. "I've got some rope. I'll cover you."

  "You grab the rope!" She kept firing her pistol.

  "My gun is bigger than yours, and I need both hands to fire it!" he cried back. "Just do it!"

  She groaned. "Always bragging about your bigger gun." She reached into his pack with one hand, firing Lullaby with the other, and rummaged until she found the rope. It was attached to an iron grappling hook.

  Six troops stood atop the tank, firing in a ring. Below them, the basilisks were devouring the vehicle, pulling it down into the depths. With every bullet fired, the tank sank deeper. Soon only the gun turret was visible over the mass of scales and jaws.

  As the others fired, Rowan hurled the rope and grapnel. The metal claws scraped across the rim, then fell back into the pit. A basilisk rose from the mass, grabbed the rope, and ripped off the grapnel.

  "Damn it!" Rowan cried, pulling the rest of the rope back. "Lost my goddamn grappling hook."

  Bay cursed. The tank sank another few centimeters.

  A basilisk reared before them, jaws wide, shrieking with hunger. Bay fired, emptying a magazine into its jaws. The head exploded in a cloud of bones and scales and red mist.

  Bay loaded another magazine. It was his last one.

  Within instants, he had emptied it. And there were still hundreds of basilisks around.

  Another basilisk lunged onto the tank and grabbed a woman's leg. The creature yanked her back into the pit. The corporal screamed as snakes wrapped around her, pulling her into the depths.

  "Bay, the grapnel is gone!" Rowan shouted.

  "I know!"

  "I told you that you should have done it!"

  "I know, I know!" Bay said.

  Another basilisk sprang onto the tank. Bay cursed. The serpent lunged. Bay sidestepped, swinging his rifle in a broad arc. He slammed the wooden stock into the creature's head, knocking it aside. He drove the butt down hard onto the snake's head, slamming the beast against the turret.

  Before the stunned snake could recover, Bay grabbed the creature's arm, drew a knife, and began to saw through the joints.

  "Bay, what are you doing?" Rowan cried.

  "Getting you another grapnel!" he said.

  The snake was coming to. Rowan put a bullet between its eyes, allowing Bay to continue his work. He managed to sever the arm. It was the size of a human arm, tipped with sharp claws. Bay tied the rope to the severed organ, forming a new grapnel.

  "Here!" He shoved the scaly arm at Rowan.

  "That's mucking disgusting," Rowan said.

  But Bay was busy swinging his rifle again, knocking back snakes.

  "Get us out of here, Row!" he said.

  She hurled the basilisk claw upward. This time, it went over the rim. This new grapnel caught something—perhaps one of the twisted trees. Rowan tugged the rope, straining with all her might.

&nb
sp; "It's good!" she said. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

  The soldiers climbed from the pit, one by one. Bay and Rowan remained on the tank, fighting the serpents, covering the other soldiers. By the time only Bay and Rowan remained atop the tank, the gun turret was only centimeters above the writhing surface of the snakes.

  The other tank crews had managed to fashion their own grappling hooks. They too were climbing out. But Bay watched one tank sink completely under, two soldiers still atop it. They vanished into the sea of snakes, screaming.

  "Rowan, go!" Bay cried. "I'll cover you."

  She nodded, handed him an extra magazine, then began to scurry up.

  Several basilisks leaped toward her as she climbed. Dangling from the top, Rowan pulled up her legs, narrowly dodging them. Bay fired, knocking the aliens back down. Rowan scrambled up the rope, climbed out the pit, and waved from above.

  "Come on, Bay, move your ass!"

  He grabbed the rope and began climbing.

  Below him, the tank vanished into the pit of snakes. Hundreds of the aliens were squirming below, feeding on the soldiers who had failed to escape. Bay couldn't see any tanks now, just the sea of serpents.

  He focused on climbing.

  He was almost at the top when a basilisk leaped from below and grabbed his legs.

  Bay cursed, slipping on the rope, slicing his palm. The serpent tightened around his legs, pulling him downward.

  "Bay!" Rowan cried.

  His rifle dangled across his back. The damn thing kept swinging out of reach. He clung to the rope with his prosthetic hand, drew his knife with his real hand, and stabbed at the beast. But his hand was slick with blood. He could hardly maintain a grip, let alone pierce the snake.

  The beast pulled him downward another meter. More basilisks raised their heads from the pit, jaws unhinging, ready to feast.

  Rowan was firing from above. But she couldn't hit the snake pulling Bay's legs. His arm nearly dislocated, but Bay finally managed to reach his gun. He shoved the stock into his armpit, then pulled the trigger. His bullets knocked the basilisk off his legs, and Bay breathed in relief.

  Before he could keep climbing, another basilisk leaped from the pool. It soared above Bay, lashed its claws, and severed the rope.