by Dirk Patton
I didn’t see anything and Dog remained quiet so I stepped through the doorway. There was a smooth concrete floor and a workbench that was way too clean to have ever been used for any real work. The back wall had a variety of sleds hanging from hooks and against the remaining wall was a large stack of split wood. I grabbed one of the sleds and carried it outside, returning and filling my arms with firewood.
It only took a couple of minutes to load the sled down with as much as it could hold. Pushing the door shut I leaned one of the pieces against it to hold it in place and to provide a visual alert if someone or something opened the door and went inside. Grasping the loop of rope attached to the front of the sled I dragged it across the snow back to the patio.
Rachel and Katie must have been watching through a window as they came out to help carry the wood when I reached the patio. Soon, I had a crackling fire going, made another trip to ensure we had a good supply of wood in the house, then settled into an oversized leather chair that faced the fire. Dog stretched out on the floor close to the hearth, but moved away when the wood began popping as the fire reached pockets of trapped air and moisture.
“I need to talk to you two,” Rachel said as she settled onto a long sofa. Katie was sitting in another of the big leather chairs, legs curled under her the way only a woman can sit.
Uh oh. Several thoughts ran through my head when she said that. Were we going to have to talk about her feelings for me? The feelings I had for her? This wasn’t going to be good.
“I’m worried about the Terminator virus,” she said.
Oh Thank God! Not a talk about feelings!
“Why?” Katie asked when I didn’t say anything.
“Because of you,” Rachel said. “With what you went through, you shouldn’t be alive, let alone up and running around and apparently healthy. I think John might be right about what’s going on. It has to be something to do with either the vaccine or the virus itself strengthening your body.”
“OK, but why are you worried about the Terminator virus?” Katie asked.
“Because it might kill you.”
“What?” I said after a long stretch of shocked silence, even though I’d heard exactly what Rachel had said.
“Alright. Remember, I’m not a virologist. But the idea behind the Terminator virus is that it will target the specific DNA of the infection and destroy it. If Katie is partially infected, or whatever the correct term is, and is exposed to the Terminator, there’s a chance it could kill her. If we’re right that the infection or vaccine is the reason she’s alive and well.”
I looked at Katie who was staring at Rachel with her mouth open and a terrified expression on her face.
“How do we know? What do we do?” I finally stammered, reaching across and taking my wife’s hand in mine.
“There’s nothing we can do. If we were in Seattle I’m sure Joe and the other virologist could run some tests that would let us know for sure.” Rachel spoke in a quiet voice as she delivered this information.
My mind was racing. What the hell could I do? I wasn’t about to give up on my wife was the one certainty.
“We have to get to Seattle,” I said. “We have to know and they either modify what they’re working on or stop working on it all together.”
“They can’t stop,” Katie said. “Not if there’s a way they can wipe out the infected.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I said. “We can keep killing the infected one at a time if we have to. I’m not going to let them create something that will kill you.”
“We don’t even know if that will happen,” Katie said, trying to calm me down.
“How likely is it?” I looked to Rachel for help.
“I can’t answer that,” she said, shaking her head. “Not without knowing what has enhanced Katie’s ability to heal and recover. Maybe it’s the vaccine, but I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” Katie asked.
“Because he’s had the vaccine and he’s not healing any faster than normal,” she said, pointing a long finger at me.
“Difference between male and female?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Rachel conceded. “But, everything is a maybe at this point. I agree with you. We need to get her to Seattle so we know what’s really going on.”
“That’s a long way. In bad weather,” Katie said. “And didn’t we hear something about the Russians starting to move into the west coast cities?”
“We did,” I said. “But we don’t have a choice. If they succeed in making the Terminator virus it will get released all across the planet. There’s not anywhere to hide. It will find us. And I’m not prepared to live with a sword dangling over your head. Are you?”
Katie finally shook her head and squeezed my hand.
“What did you do with the sat phone? I need to make a call.”
“It’s on the charger in the Jeep,” Rachel said.
I stood and headed for the garage, making Dog stay where he was. He wasn’t healing any faster than normal, either.
As soon as I walked into the garage I could tell Katie had been the one driving. The Jeep was at an angle and barely pulled in far enough to allow the door to clear the back bumper on its way down. It was parked almost exactly like she used to park my truck when she drove it.
I plucked the phone off the front seat and headed to the back yard so I had a clear line of sight to the satellite. Pressing the speed dial button I checked the shed to make sure the piece of wood was still in place, then scanned the snow for any tracks that weren’t Dog’s or mine. Everything looked untouched.
“Good to hear from you, sir.” Jessica said when she answered the phone and recognized my voice.
“Good to be heard from,” I said. “My wife told me the news.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but you couldn’t have known.”
“Thank you, but I didn’t call to talk about that. Fill me in. What are the Russians up to? Infected in the area? And I need to get to Seattle.”
“First off, no movement at all within twenty miles of your location. No infected or Russians or anything. That’s the good news. The bad is you’re stuck where you are for the moment. There’s only two ways out of Ketchum. On up into the mountains, which are impassable, or down to Twin Falls which is currently full of infected.
“The Russians are still pouring into the country. Air and sea lift. There are big troop carriers in Seattle and San Francisco unloading troops right now. They’ve taken over more Air Force bases and are landing personnel and materials around the clock.”
“What’s the status of our research personnel in Seattle?” I asked.
“So far they’ve gone undetected. The SEALs that are on sight have buttoned the building up and gone as dark as they can. The Russians shouldn’t find them unless they start a building to building search, but there’s no reason for them to do that.”
“OK. So, I need to get to that research lab. How do I do that?”
“You don’t, sir. At least not right now. You’ve got the weather where you are, infected in Twin Falls and more weather as you get into Washington State. The Cascade Mountains, just east of Seattle, are getting a big storm right now. Lots of snow falling. No way you’re crossing them on the ground.” She said.
“Not acceptable, Petty Officer,” I growled into the phone. “This isn’t a pleasure trip. It’s vital, and I’m going to do it. Find me a way, even if I’ve got to dip down into California and come up the coast.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll see what I can come up with, but you’re still stuck until the infected clear out of your area.” She answered.
“How many are there?”
“A herd. Hundreds of thousands, at a minimum. Probably over a million.” She said.
“Are they moving, or just staying in the area?”
“The main body has already moved through. These are the slower ones. The weaker ones and the ones with more serious injuries that are having more trouble moving. It’s probably going to be at least a day before
they’ve thinned enough for you to try it.”
“Thanks, Jessica. Work on a plan for me and let me know if anything changes.”
I broke the connection and said a few choice words. Why wasn’t it ever easy?
7
Russian Colonel General Anatoly Kozlov stood on the Seattle waterfront and watched the unloading of a massive troop carrier. Ranks of soldiers marched out of the bowels of the ship, carrying weapons and large duffels stuffed with their personal gear. It was a dark, grey morning and rain fell steadily. It beaded on Kozlov’s hat and the greatcoat thrown over his shoulders, but he ignored what to him was mild, spring weather.
Looking out into Elliot Bay he saw two more of the giant ships, waiting their turn to dock and disgorge their load of fighting men. He didn’t expect to need them as the city had been mostly cleared of infected already by the Science Directorate of the SVR who controlled the satellite signal that attracted them. There were still some wandering around the metropolis, but nothing his men couldn’t easily handle.
“Sir?”
Kozlov turned to see one of his aides standing slightly behind him, a satellite phone held in his extended hands.
“Who is it, Vladimir?” He growled, unhappy to have a few quiet moments disturbed.
“It is President Barinov, sir. Personally.” The aide looked frightened and was keeping the palm of his hand firmly over the microphone end of the device.
Kozlov snatched the phone from him and snapped it to his ear.
“Comrade President, Colonel General Kozlov speaking. It is a pleasure, sir.”
“Where are you Kozlov?” The President snapped in his peasant accented Russian, his voice grating on the General’s ear.
“I am in Seattle watching our troops come ashore, Comrade President.”
“Listen very carefully, General. I have just recalled Colonel General Mostov to Moscow.”
It took all of Kozlov’s self control to not begin trembling. Recalled meant that General Mostov would be arrested the moment his plane touched down in Russia. He would be thrown into a prison cell while the SVR rounded up his entire family, including distant relatives and in-laws. Once they were all in custody the General would be put on public trial, convicted by lunch and, along with all of his family, executed in time for dinner. Failing President Barinov was not an option.
“We have received intelligence from assets amongst the Americans about one of their soldiers who is responsible for the murder of Lieutenant General Aslinov. I ordered General Mostov to arrest this man so he could be brought to Moscow to stand trial for his crimes, but Mostov failed. His men were weak and let the American slip through their fingers.
“General, I want you to find this man and bring him to me. You are to make every effort to deliver him alive. I want to personally look into his eyes and pull the trigger. As of now, you have my full authority to enlist any and all resources you need to accomplish this. Kalyagin at the SVR is awaiting your call and will share all current intelligence with you. Do not fail me, General.”
There was a click and the President was gone. Only years of climbing his way up the ranks in the Russian military gave Kozlov the discipline to not tremble as he lowered the phone and handed it back to his aide.
“Vladimir. Find Colonel Grushkin and have him join me immediately, then call Lieutenant General Kalyagin at SVR in Moscow.”
“Right away, Comrade General!” The aide turned and sprinted off through the rain in search of Colonel Grushkin.
Fifteen minutes later the two Russian officers were seated in a luxury condominium that had a sweeping view of Elliot Bay and the unloading of the invading troops. Kozlov lit an American cigarette and offered the pack to the Colonel, who declined.
Colonel Yuri Grushkin was a large, powerful man. His shoulders and arms strained the perfectly pressed uniform he wore like a second skin. He sat ramrod straight in the sumptuously upholstered dining chair, his hands resting in his lap as he listened to Colonel General Kozlov. It was the middle of the night in Moscow and they were waiting for the SVR officer to come to the phone.
Grushkin was the commanding officer of the 45th Guards Spetsnaz Regiment, the bulk of which were on the first ship that unloaded that morning. He had a well-deserved reputation for being both highly intelligent, motivated and absolutely ruthless. His men both feared and loved him, few of them able to match his combat resume that began in Afghanistan in the early 80s. He may have gotten older, but he was just as hard and determined as the day he first walked onto a parade ground.
He nodded when Kozlov finished speaking, remaining silent and stoic. Though the General would never admit it, Grushkin intimidated him. Not just the man’s physical presence, which was enough to frighten most, but also the sheer intensity of his stare. Rumors abounded of hardened combat veterans breaking into a cold sweat just at the thought of having to face Grushkin.
“Anatoly, are you there?” The voice came out of the satellite phone set to speaker mode, resting on the polished surface of the table.
“Good morning, Viktor,” Kozlov leaned forward and replied. “My apologies for waking you, but the President wants this matter dealt with urgently.”
“You didn’t wake me, my friend. I was in the President’s office when he called you. The man doesn’t seem to need to sleep. The delay has been gathering my staff to brief you. I have transmitted a file to your aide, but I would like my aide to summarize for you so any questions you have can be answered. You have the SVR’s full support, Anatoly. We cannot fail the President as General Mostov did.”
“Thank you, Victor. With me is Colonel Grushkin, commander of the 45th Spetsnaz. He will be running the operation on my end.” Kozlov leaned back and met Grushkin’s eyes, waiting for the aide in Moscow to begin speaking.
“Colonel General and Colonel, good morning. I am Senior Captain Yulayachin and have prepared the briefing. Please stop me with any questions. May I proceed?” A new voice came over the speaker.
“Proceed,” Kozlov rumbled.
“During the first election of a unified Germany after the fall of the Soviet Union, a KGB team led by Lieutenant General Fyodor Aslinov went into Berlin with the intent to influence the election to an outcome that would be favorable to Russian interests. The Americans countered with a CIA team that was subsequently eliminated.
“In retaliation, the Americans deployed a unit of their Army’s operational detachment Delta which assassinated the entire KGB team, Lieutenant General Aslinov included. The General had close, personal ties to President Barinov who was also in the KGB at the time. A bounty was placed on the heads of the team, specifically the American soldier who murdered Aslinov. Our assets within the CIA were unable to tell us who was on the team and we were never able to develop an asset within the US Army who could tell us who this man was.
“A few days ago, our Rezidentura in Australia was contacted by a CIA employee working at a listening post in Western Australia. He provided details about the team, specifically the individual who assassinated General Aslinov. That man is still in America and is still alive. He is an officer in their Army and his name is Major John Chase.”
“Why did this man betray his countryman?” Grushkin interrupted.
“The oldest reason in the world, Comrade Colonel. Love of a woman. He was engaged to the Major’s wife at one point and wanted her back. We made a deal that we would capture the Major and his wife, delivering her to the American traitor in Australia. General Mostov was alerted and dispatched a team of Spetsnaz to intercept Major Chase and his wife, but they lost contact with them in the area of Dodge City in Kansas.”
“This man is still alive?” Kozlov asked in surprise. “The latest briefing I received indicated that there were no surviving Americans still within the continental United States. They are still strong in Hawaii with pockets in Alaska, but the last group of survivors evacuated to the Bahamas several days ago.”
“That is mostly correct, Comrade General,” the aide replied. “However, th
e Major and his wife stayed behind. We have an asset in Hawaii that has confirmed this. They traveled to Idaho to rescue the pilot and passenger of an American fighter jet that was shot down by one of our patrols. When the team that General Mostov sent failed to locate the target, they returned to base rather than completing their mission. All members of the team have been recalled along with the General.”
“How is it that this Major and his wife are not infected by now?” Grushkin asked.
“They were recipients of the vaccine delivered to the Americans by the GRU traitor, Captain Irina Vostov.”
“Do we know where they are now?” Grushkin growled.
“Not precisely, Comrade Colonel. Our asset is not directly involved with them, and could only tell us they are in the mountains in Idaho. Before he was recalled, General Mostov ordered a search of the Sawtooth Mountains and that is still underway. We have lost one helicopter. Initially it was assumed to be a mechanical failure, but the aircraft was relatively new and the flight crew was very experienced. We currently have experts en route to verify the cause of the crash.”
“Where precisely is the crash site?” Grushkin asked, powering on a small tablet computer.
As the aide read off the coordinates, the Colonel punched them in and stared at the map for a few moments. Handing the tablet to Kozlov’s aide he ordered the man to load the data file the SVR had sent onto the device.
“Do we have any further obligation as regards the Major’s wife?” He asked.
“No, Comrade Colonel. The asset in Australia has been arrested by their SASR.”
“Very well,” Grushkin said, standing and taking the tablet back. “General, with your permission, I shall be departing for Idaho immediately.”
“You cannot fail, Colonel,” Kozlov said. “Bring me Major John Chase. If he is not alive when you find him, bring me his head.”