Precipice: V Plague Book 9

by Dirk Patton

  Perhaps I was giving him too much credit, but one does not become a Colonel in the Spetsnaz if he doesn’t have some serious intellect to go along with all the physical skills that are required. So why was he even making the effort? All I could come up with was that he was trying to force my hand. Flush me out by dangling Katie and the others in the open. Wait for me to make an attempt and have sniper teams ready to blow my head off.

  He would know that I understood this was what he was doing. He would also know that I would be coming. Only he thought I was alone and at best armed with a rifle, pistol and a couple of knives. He couldn’t have known that for once Lady Luck had smiled on me and dropped Titus Bull and his shelter full of goodies into my lap. Not that I wouldn’t still be doing exactly what I was doing without them, but Grushkin was going to get a hell of a surprise.

  I moved as I had these thoughts, arriving at my second target. A repeat of the climb up the ladder and through the man hole, then I was back underground and heading for number three. This was the longest walk I had, and it took some time. As I passed beneath the streets of Mountain Home I heard two more patrols broadcasting the same message. I so badly wanted to pop up and silence them, but that would have served no purpose at this time.

  Third target addressed, I moved back south a short distance then headed due west. The water flow had increased again, minimally, but now the stream that ran down the floor of the tunnels was almost reaching the walls on either side. I walked where it was dry, careful to not let a foot drift into the current. It didn’t look swift, but even shallow depths of flowing water can take your feet right out from under you.

  “Major,” Titus called on the radio as I was approaching my fourth target.

  “Go,” I mumbled, though the sound of the water would mask anything below a full throated shout.

  “Thought you’d like to know, you guessed right. The restaurant is really filling up. At least 300 troops in there now, and more trying to squeeze in out of the rain.”

  “Copy,” was all I said. I had reached my destination.

  I was on the southeast corner of the park, beneath the intersection of the streets that bordered the park on those two sides. There were a lot of troops in the area and I needed to be quiet, but still move quickly. Locking the ladder into shape, I hooked it to the ceiling and climbed. I pressed two ounces of C-4 into a notch between the iron ring set into the concrete of the tunnel and the cast iron cover. Inserting a detonator, I climbed down, unhooked the ladder and without collapsing it headed for the next man hole.

  When I was done I had rigged every spot on the four streets that surrounded the park where the asphalt was penetrated by an access point into the tunnels. There were a lot of small openings that I couldn’t imagine what they were for, but I mined them, too. I even found my way underneath a large parking lot that was part of the park and doctored up it’s cover. I was now almost out of C-4, having retained only two ounces for an emergency. If I did my job and moved fast, there was at least a chance I could save my wife and my friends.

  “Heading to the exit,” I mumbled into the radio as I started heading north.

  I intended to go out of one of the grates that Titus and I had looked at earlier in the day. It wasn’t exactly close, but the risk of moving another man hole cover was too great. I’d gotten lucky the patrol I had killed hadn’t happened along while I had the cover half open. Talk about being a sitting duck.

  “You’d better get movin’,” Titus’ voice spoke in my ear. “Rain’s pickin’ up and those tunnels are going to be fillin’ up.”

  As he was speaking the water reached the wall I was hugging. I broke into a run. Water splashed with every step and the footing quickly transitioned from a thin layer of water to stepping into a running stream of water. I pushed harder, nearly going down as the runoff suddenly surged until it was over the toes of my boots.

  I was forced to slow, unable to run upstream without risking falling and possibly coming down on one of the debris catchers. Within thirty seconds the water was up to my ankles and rising. It was moving fast, splashing up where it struck my legs and soaking the front of my pants. I tried to picture the tunnel map and guess where I was. My best estimate was that I still had three miles to go.

  As I had that thought, the water crested the tops of my boots and it was beginning to get difficult to stand. I had to lean into the direction it was coming from to maintain my footing. At this rate it would be above my waist in minutes. No way was I going to make it three miles before it was so deep and moving so swiftly that it took me with it. Glancing up I spotted a man hole just a few yards ahead.

  “Water’s too deep. Gotta climb out now,” I said into the radio as I moved closer to the hole in the ceiling and began working quickly to assemble the ladder.

  “Where are you?”

  “Maybe three miles short of the exit. Other than that, fuck if I know,” I answered, locking the last section of the ladder in place.

  Titus said something that I didn’t have time to think about. Against the wall, the water was now at the bottom of my knees. And I had a problem. The center of the tunnel, where I needed to stand to reach the eyebolts in the ceiling to hook up the ladder, was lower than the edge where I was standing. That meant the water would be deeper. Over my knees.

  I made sure my weapons were tightly secured, then took a step forward. Between the push on the foot that remained planted and the violent tug on the stepping foot when it came down into the water, I was nearly upended and taken for a ride.

  Water over my knees, I could feel it tearing at me, trying to rip away the traction my boots had on the concrete floor. Putting all my energy into focusing on the task at hand I moved forward again, but this time I shuffled my feet rather than trying to take a step. That helped, not having the sudden impact of the force of the water as my foot came down, but it moved me into water approaching mid-thigh.

  Glancing up, I spotted the bolts and tried to reach them with the ladder. I came up a foot short. Grunting with exertion I slid my right foot, planted it and brought my left forward. Looking up, I extended the ladder, reaching out to hook it in place. Water was now nearly to my crotch, and I knew this was my last shot.

  Once it had the main part of my body to push against, rather than just my legs, I wouldn’t be able to withstand the force. Stretching, I managed to hook one rail into the eyebolt closest to me, but needed to be slightly closer to the middle of the tunnel to raise the other end enough to secure it. I was shuffling my right leg into deeper water just as a surge raced down the tunnel and slammed into my ass, sweeping my feet out from under me.

  44

  The ride through the forest in the UTV was about what Crawford had expected. Rough and slow. The vehicle was a Polaris RZR. One of the long ones that had four seats. It was narrow and the SEAL driving had shoulders at least as wide as the Colonel’s. Igor had it better in back. Dog had curled into one of the seats and placed his head in the Russian’s lap for the ride.

  The light was fading by the time the driver, Master Chief Petty Officer Pedro Gonzales, arrived. Thick, grey clouds blocked any moonlight and now it was almost completely black. Gonzales wore night vision goggles, navigating between tree trunks so thick that three grown men holding hands couldn’t have encircled them with their arms. Neither Crawford nor Igor had NVGs so they had no choice other than to put their complete trust in the Master Chief.

  Lieutenant Sam followed on the noisy dirt bike. He too had NVGs and was staying about fifty yards back as they moved. Both SEALs had their radios slaved to a satellite comm unit and were in constant contact with Pearl Harbor. Jessica was glued to several monitors, making sure they had plenty of warning if there were any infected or Russians they needed to worry about, but with the cloud cover she was having to rely on thermal.

  They had been driving for over an hour, but weren’t moving fast. The trail the SEAL was following was very narrow and in places so rough he had to slow to a crawl to climb over massive, exposed t
ree roots and outcroppings of rock. Twice they’d come to a sudden stop, the engine going quiet and Gonzales motioning towards the sky. They’d heard a distant rotor the first stop, then the sound of a high flying jet the second.

  Three hours after leaving the clearing where they’d met the young SEAL officer they suddenly emerged out of the forest into the back yard of a palatial mansion. It was built in a several acre clearing on the slope of a mountain and as they circled to the front, Seattle spread out below them. There seemed to be even more pockets of light than the previous night when they’d arrived in the Hind.

  Gonzales came to a stop in the driveway, Lieutenant Sam pulling up next to the UTV and shutting down the bike.

  “Fuckers are bringing the city back to life, aren’t they?” Crawford observed.

  “Yes, sir. They are,” Sam agreed. “Bunch of boots on the ground, came in to the port on troop carriers. They just brought one of their nuclear powered cruisers in yesterday. Big bastard. And they’ve got a carrier and a whole bunch of subs prowling around the north Pacific.”

  “What are they doing, and why so many ships?”

  “They’re moving in. Taking up residence. We’ve been watching civilians arriving on what looks like private jets, then being escorted into the city where they’re claiming whatever penthouse or waterfront palace catches their eye. It looks like Barinov is distributing the spoils of war to his wealthy cronies.”

  Crawford clenched his teeth, seething internally at the thought of the Russians just moving in on top of the corpses of all the Americans who were infected or killed by the attacks.

  “What from here?” He finally asked.

  “We’re on foot from here, sir. There’s a couple of miles of neighborhoods with houses like this, then we move into suburbs with more normal homes and businesses. There’s still a good population of infected in the whole area and these things make too much noise.”

  Sam stepped off the bike and walked it over to a thick hedge of bushes, pushing it behind them until it was well concealed from view.

  “Before we start walking, how are you for munitions?” Crawford asked.

  “Munitions or weapons?” Sam asked, a confused frown creasing his face.

  “Don’t know what you have in mind, Lieutenant, but I’m not in the mood to go sit on my ass in a bio-lab while these cocksuckers just move in and completely take over. I intend to make life a little uncomfortable for them.”

  “Sir, my orders were to come get you and bring you back to the lab. The scientists say they’re getting close to coming up with something and as much as I’d like to go along for the party, I’ve got to get back. And to answer your question, we don’t have anything other than small arms.” The Lieutenant shoved his NVGs off his face and drank deeply from a canteen of water.

  “Then I guess this is where we part ways,” Crawford said. “Thanks for the ride.”

  Crawford climbed out of the UTV and walked to the tiny cargo area to retrieve his pack. The two SEALs exchanged glances, the Colonel noting the look out of the corner of his eye.

  “We aren’t going to have a problem because I’m not coming with you, are we?” Crawford asked, swinging his pack onto his shoulders.

  Igor and Dog had climbed out and were standing on the far side of the UTV. Igor had picked up on the sudden tension and slowly began sliding farther to the side, rifle not pointed but his hand firmly gripping it with his thumb on the safety.

  “No, sir. We were just thinking that there’s a National Guard Armory we passed on our way to find you. It looked intact and I’m willing to bet it’s still pretty well stocked.”

  “Hell, Lieutenant. Why didn’t you just say so? Lead the way!” Crawford grinned and motioned for Igor to relax.

  Sam grinned back and stepped out of the way as Gonzales turned the UTV around and headed for the forest to hide it in the trees. The Colonel walked over to Igor and switching to Russian, nodded at the large house.

  “This is a nice place,” he said. “Great view, and you would only be steps from the forest if you needed to disappear.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Igor replied. “It is like the home of a Czar! In Russia there would be thirty families living in so much room.”

  “Welcome to America,” Crawford smiled. “The land of the free and the home of excess beyond your wildest dreams.”

  Igor smiled back at him, still not sure the house really was for just one family.

  “What were you talking with them about?” Igor asked, pulling his attention away from the mansion.

  “There’s some Russian ships in port and civilians arriving that are laying claim to homes just like this one,” Crawford waved at the house. “Rich Russians reaping the benefits of Barinov’s plan and an occupying military force to protect them. I’m making a stop to load up on some larger weapons then heading down there to stir up some shit.”

  “What does that mean?” Igor asked.

  “Means I’m going to cause problems for the people occupying my country.” Crawford looked up as the Master Chief returned from concealing the Polaris.

  “Ready, Colonel?” Lieutenant Sam asked, flipping his NVGs down over his eyes.

  Crawford held up a finger, asking him to wait one moment, not taking his attention off of Igor.

  “Sure you don’t want to come with me? These aren’t innocents. These are the people that supported Barinov. You were ready to help obtain a nuclear bomb that would be used to destroy the Kremlin and everyone in it. Is this all that different? Besides. How long do you think you’re going to be content to live quietly in the lap of luxury?”

  Igor smiled sadly and shook his head.

  “My war is over,” he said. “I’ve been fighting since I was seventeen. I’m sorry, but I’m not going.”

  He held his hand out and after a moment Crawford shook it. Rubbing Dog’s head, he nodded to Igor and turned to the SEALs who were waiting a respectful distance away.

  45

  Colonel Crawford sat in the shelter of an overpass, watching the activity on the piers that stuck out into Puget Sound. There were five Russian Navy ships tied up, all of them lit like it was Christmas morning. Sentries patrolled the docks and there were frequent gun shots from all up and down the shoreline as they put down infected. A small work gang moved constantly, dragging the bodies to the edge of the wooden docks and dumping them into the ocean.

  The massive Pyotr Velikiy (Peter the Great) guided missile cruiser, or battlecruiser, was tied up to the pier closest to his hiding place. The ship was over eight hundred feet long and nearly a hundred feet wide, powered by a nuclear reactor and was the flagship of Russia’s Northern Fleet. And it was flying the banner of the old Soviet Union, a gold hammer and sickle on a red background.

  A much smaller destroyer and three ships that were beyond Crawford’s ability to identify occupied the adjoining docks. For not the first time he wished he had one of the SEALs with him, for ship identification if nothing else, but they had strict orders to return to the lab and not engage the Russians. If he had bothered to get on the satellite connection and speak with Admiral Packard he would probably have been given the same order, which is why he had refused the SEAL’s offer to use the comm gear.

  The Colonel had reached the end, and he knew it. When he’d first met Major Chase in Tennessee he’d told him that his wife and daughters were in Los Angeles visiting her sister when the attacks occurred. That had been a lie. Her sister was in San Francisco and they had been in LA, waiting for him to arrive the next morning to begin an experimental treatment for lung cancer. Years of cigarette smoking combined with regularly inhaling toxic fumes on battlefields had taken a toll on his body. He had already lived longer than the doctors had given him.

  But he felt fine. What had been a persistent, racking cough had gone away and he was actually able to breathe again without wheezing. He hadn’t given it much thought, just assumed his body had responded to the crisis and was grateful he’d lasted as long as he had. At lea
st long enough to throw a serious fucking monkey wrench into the Russian’s plans.

  Next to him on the ground rested a large duffel. It was heavy, packed full of explosives that had been scrounged from the National Guard Armory. The Master Chief was a demolitions expert and had fashioned two makeshift Limpet mines for him. Each mine contained forty pounds of C-4, and had been constructed to focus the force of the blast towards whatever surface it was attached to.

  Strong magnets taken from the mounting bases of portable antennas would hold the mines tight to any metallic surface, such as a ship’s hull. The only problem was that they didn’t have a timer for the detonator. The mines would need to be placed below the water line and the wireless signal from the handheld trigger couldn’t penetrate the water. The solution had been to attach the ends of two large spools of wire to each blasting cap. Once the mines were stuck to a hull, the Colonel would have to reel out the wire and attach it to a terminal on the trigger so he could detonate the C-4.

  Master Chief Gonzales had assured him that each device would punch a large hole through the hull of any ship other than an aircraft carrier. Knowing firsthand just how devastating a shaped charge could be, Crawford didn’t doubt the SEAL for a minute. His only concern was being able to get the mines in the right place to do the most damage.

  He turned his head and raised his weapon when a foot scraped on the rough concrete covering the ground beneath the underpass, but it was only a male. The infected was in horrific condition, barely able to walk, drawn to the activity on the docks and was slowly making its way. Crawford held his fire, the male unaware of his presence, and eventually it stumbled past and continued on.

  The Colonel spent a minute scanning the city behind him, but didn’t see any other movement. But it was such a built up and cluttered urban environment there could have been a thousand infected approaching and he wouldn’t see them until they were within twenty yards. Turning his attention back to the docks he raised a large pair of binoculars and continued his survey of the ships.