Extinction Machine

Chapter Sixty

Turkey Point Lighthouse, Elk Neck State Park

Cecil County, Maryland

Sunday, October 20, 10:47 a.m.

“Junie,” I yelled, “do you have a landline?”

“No, only my cell,” she said, rising shakily up from behind the couch. “Wait—there’s one in the lighthouse. Emergency use only, it goes direct to the Coast Guard.”

Even before she finished saying it she was running toward the kitchen. I followed and tried to get ahead of her to body-block her view of whatever Ghost left of the Closers, but I was a step too late. She did not scream. Instead it was an intake of breath so deep and sharp that it was like a reverse scream, all of the terror driving back into her. Ghost acts like a puppy a lot of the time and he can be as playful as a house pet, but not when he’s working. He is by breeding and training a combat dog. A fighter and killer true to all of the lupine genes that fire in him every time the moment turns ugly. What he left was a man, but you had to look closely to tell. We didn’t look all that close.

I gave Junie a gentle push and she turned away, shaking her head in denial and disbelief. She looked up at me with her troubled blue eyes.

“Is this what you do?” she asked in a voice that was filled with pain.

I turned away, not willing—or perhaps able—to let her read that particular truth. It was a coin I did not want to spend, and it was a fee that would hurt her to accept.

Or so I thought.

Her fingers touched my cheek and she gently, firmly turned my head so that I faced her again. I looked into her eyes and searched for revulsion, for the judgment that was my due for being who and what I was. Inside my head the Killer tried to stare her down, but even he could not. Maybe I’m not sure who looked back at her. Cop, Killer, Civilized Man. Or someone else.

Pain flickered across Junie Flynn’s face. It darted like lightning through her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

Then it was she who turned away. Not because she was unable to hold that contact, but because she had seen what there was to see. She passed me and reached for the handle of a door set between two pantries, turned it, and went through it.

I took a ragged breath and followed.

Beyond the door was the huge, round base of the lighthouse and there was a wooden stairway winding its way around and up toward the light. The moment kept wanting to whisper symbolic meanings to me. I told it to shut the f*ck up.

Junie was already running up the stairs, and I followed.

The stairs vanished through the floor of a wooden platform. Junie disappeared through that. As I came up through the floor, I saw that we were right at the top of the tower, with heavy windows in metal frames on all sides. The view was magnificent, with the October lushness of Elk Neck State Park behind us, the bluffs below, and the lovely bay spread out in front. In any other moment it would have been a breathtaking view. I was feeling less touristy than I might otherwise, however. Junie crossed to a serviceable-looking desk on which were various logbooks, charts, timetables, and a big, old-fashioned white phone.

She picked up the handset and listened. Her eyes lit and she smiled. “There’s a dial tone!”

Junie began punching numbers. I bent close and listened through five excruciating rings before a male voice answered, “Coast Guard, this is Petty Officer First Class Johnson Byrnes. Please identify and state the nature of your emergency.”

I snatched the phone from her hand. “Petty Officer Byrnes, this is Captain Joseph Ledger with the National Security Agency. I am calling from the Turkey Point Lighthouse in Elk Neck State Park, Maryland. We are under attack by multiple hostiles. This is a terrorist attack. This is a matter of national security. Put your commanding officer on the phone right now.”

Byrnes began to react as if my call were a joke, but his training overrode his natural skepticism. He said, “Sir, please hold the line.”

A moment later an older, gruffer voice came on the line, “This is Command Master Chief Petty Officer Robles. Please identify yourself.”

“Command Master Chief, this is Captain Joseph Ledger, currently attached to the National Security Agency and working under an executive order.” I gave him our location. “We are under attack by hostile forces of unknown type or number. We have three KIA and multiple hostiles down. All radio, sat-phone, and cell-phone communication are being jammed. I need you to send all available assistance. I need you to contact my superiors at the following number.” I gave them a special number that would ring on Church’s cell. “I have one female civilian with me and a white shepherd combat dog. We are in the lighthouse and if possible we will remain here until assistance arrives. We are armed.”

I waited for him to say something.

He didn’t.

He couldn’t. The line was dead.

I set the phone down.

Junie asked. “What’s wrong?”

“They cut the phones, too.”

She looked around as if expecting to see Closers leaping out of the shadows.

“Do you think he understood what you were saying?” she asked breathlessly. “Do you think they understood?”

I wanted to lie to her, to tell her that Robles heard and understood it all. But, she was Junie Flynn and you can’t lie to Junie Flynn.

“God…,” she whispered.

I took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face me. “Junie … can you think of any reason why these Closers would want to kill you?”

“W-what?”

“Downstairs … they weren’t after me. They had your picture, they were hunting for you. Why?”

She hesitated, clearly unwilling to tell me. Her pale face flushed red. Was it tension? Embarrassment? Shame?

“Joe,” she said tentatively, “I … may have done something really stupid.”

“Why? What did you do?”

“I think I may have gotten us killed.”