Free Hell Island by Matthew Reilly

victory, it must be said, was based in large part on a few longshots, in particular a level of knowledge that 99 percent of our enemies simply will not have: submarine docking doors in carriers and an unusually high level of knowledge of World War II Japanese tunnel systems. No, based on the results of this test,
Project Stormtrooper
will most certainly go live, and it will save many lives over the years to come.”
    Knox started walking around the hall, checking the apes. “Now, if you don’t mind, we have a lot of follow-up to do and a whole lot of paperwork. An extraction plane has been called from Okinawa to come and take you home. It should be here in a few hours.”
    “Paperwork . . .” Schofield said. “Men have diedand you have paperwork. You guys are something else. Hey, hold it. I have another question.”
    Knox stopped.
    Schofield nodded at Flash Gordon and the Delta team arrayed around him. “Why were
they
brought here at all, if they just stayed with you?”
    Knox grinned. “They were brought in for my DARPA team’s protection. Just in case you
did
happen to survive and got angry with us.”
    Knox resumed his casual appraisal of his apes.
    Schofield said, “I should have offed your army when I had the chance.”
    “No, you shouldn’t have, Captain. What you should do is walk away and be proud of yourself. You have done future generations of American farm boys a great service. They will not need to die on the front lines
ever
again. Also, be proud that my apes defeated every other force they faced, but
you
beat
them.
Go home.”
    “This is not right. It shouldn’t be done this way,” Schofield said.
    “What you think, Captain, is unimportant and irrelevant. You are not paid to think about such weighty issues. Better brains than yours have pondered these issues. You are paid to fight and to die, and you have successfully done half of that today. Farewell, Captain,” Knox waved Schofield away. “Specialist Gordon and Captain Broyles will escort you and your men out.”
    As he said this, Knox threw Flash Gordon and theBuck a look—unseen by Schofield—that said:
they are not to leave this place alive.
    Gordon nodded. So did the Buck.
    The Delta team swooped in on Schofield’s five men, surrounding them perhaps a little more tightly than they needed to. Gordon indicated the door. “Captain . . . if you will.”
    Schofield entered the elevator shaft, followed by his team.

T HROUGHOUT ALL this, the apes sat silently, swaying slightly from side to side, as if their lust for blood was being suppressed only by the chips in their heads.
    Schofield stepped out into the elevator shaft, stood at its base, where he saw the huge circular safe-like door set into the wall. He headed for the ladder—
    —when suddenly his Delta escorts released the safeties on their guns and aimed them at him and his Marines.
    “Hold it right there, Scarecrow,” Gordon said.
    “Oh, you
cocksuckers . . .
” Mother said.
    “Buck?” Bigfoot asked in surprise.
    “Buck, how can you do this?” Sanchez said, too, turning to his former commander.
    Buck Broyles just shrugged. “Sorry, boys. But you aren’t my responsibility anymore.”
    “You son of a bitch . . .” Sanchez breathed.
    During this exchange between the men, Schofield assessed his options and quickly found that there was nothing available. This time they were well and truly screwed.
    But then as he gazed at his ring of captors, he noticed that every single one of them wore a silver disc clipped to his lapel.
    The silver discs,
Schofield thought.
That was it . . .
    And suddenly things began to make sense.
    That was how you stayed safe from the apes. If you wore a silver disc, the apes couldn’t attack you. The discs were somehow connected to the microchips in the apes’ heads, probably by some kind of digital radio signal—
    A digital radio signal. Schofield sighed inwardly. Like the binary beep signal Mother had picked up earlier. That was how the Buck had