Viral Resistance

by Robert Boren

  They flew down the street above the speed limit, past residential neighborhoods and commercial areas.

  “It’s pretty in here,” Robbie said.

  “You’ll know we’re getting close when it gets more industrial,” Morgan said, eyes glued to the screen.

  “Here it comes,” Robbie said, pointing to a factory building, then noticing the tunnel coming up, under the railroad tracks. “Crap, I hope that tunnel is tall enough.”

  “It is,” Morgan said, “barely.”

  Robbie held his breath as they rolled into it, but they passed through without any contact, coming out into a full-on industrial area. “Okay, where are the bad guys on this side of the river now?”

  “Surrounding the CHP Headquarters on all four sides,” Morgan said. “Gonna be hard for them to use the mortars and not hit their own fighters.”

  “Look, off-roaders and Jeeps going over the bridge.”

  “Good,” Morgan said. “Tex just made a left onto Richards. See him?”

  “Yep. He’s turning right into that Diesel Service Center parking lot.”

  “We should go there too,” Morgan said. “Nothing will get past that bridge if we plant ourselves there.”

  Robbie nodded and made the left, then a quick right. The next three battle wagons kept going, one moving over to Vine Street, the other two continuing on Richards. A horde of off-roaders followed, going up several of the surrounding streets.

  There was a loud blast on the bridge, a truck exploding from Tex’s M19.

  “It’s on,” Robbie shouted as they pulled up, seeing another pickup truck with men in the back racing over the bridge. He opened fire with his mini gun, hitting the truck, knocking it right off the road. There were explosions to the north.

  “Off roaders,” Morgan said. “The Islamists on the road just turned before they got to the bridge.” She laughed while she watched.

  “What?”

  “They’re taking the on-ramp off the freeway. One of them just crashed head-on into a semi-truck. That’s gotta hurt.”

  “Any others still coming over the river?” Robbie asked.

  “Nope,” she said.

  “Good, then let’s go that way.” He pointed down Vine street, which they could reach by crossing the parking lot of the tire dealership next door.

  Morgan’s fingers typed on her phone. A ding followed. “Go, they’re okay with it,” she said. “Tex will stay here and guard the back door.”

  Robbie nodded and backed up the big coach, turning it and crossing an access road onto the tire dealer parking lot to the northwest, then making a right turn onto Vine street. There was still gunfire across the river, and then a mortar round flew, hitting their side of the bank.

  “Dammit,” Morgan said. “Get those guys!”

  “Are they getting help from the enemy fighters who didn’t make it across the bridge?”

  “You guessed it,” Morgan said. “Make a right turn on Tenth Street. That will put you in position to fire on the enemy over there. I’d go into siege mode, though.”

  Robbie nodded, making the turn and driving past the last block before the river. He flipped the switches for siege mode, firing several grenades at the mortar team before the shields were all the way up, two of them hitting home.

  “Nice shooting,” Morgan said as she pulled the console out and looked at the front and rear machine gun target reticle. “I think I can hit them from here.”

  “Do it, but don’t hit our off-roaders.”

  “I won’t,” she said, opening fire, sweeping it back and forth, taking out most of the mortar team. Machine gun fire hit the back of the coach, so she switched to the rear machine guns, nailing a truck that was roaring towards them.

  Robbie laughed, looking through is sight. “They didn’t expect that.”

  “Look, more men running up with mortars,” Morgan yelled. “Try to hit their ammo with a grenade.”

  Robbie nodded, firing several grenades, one of them hitting the first ammo box on the left, blowing it up, men running away on fire.

  “They’ve got willie pete,” Morgan said, firing at more enemy fighters who were rushing the back of the vehicle. Then there was thunder coming from M60s to the west.

  “The CHP officers are on the roof!” Robbie shouted.

  “Get those guys bringing up that new mortar,” Morgan shouted. “I have to stay on our rear.”

  “Got it,” Robbie said, firing more grenades, then hitting them with several blips from the mini gun. As soon as that mortar team was dead, another took its place. Then several off-roaders roared over the rolling hills, firing as they went, taking the next mortar team out and then going north to hit the trucks where the rest of the mortar teams were, blowing up their vehicles and chasing down the survivors.

  “Yes,” Morgan said, taking a quick glimpse of them, then getting back to the rear sight and firing as yet another truckload of Islamists roared forward.

  “Hey, honey, hit them with a grenade. Maybe we can bust their truck in the road and cut off their access. We’re getting more action than we can handle.”

  “I’ll try,” Robbie said, swinging the M19 in that direction and firing, the cab exploding. He hit it again, the gas tank going up as Islamists in the back tried to escape, Morgan peppering them with machine gun fire.

  {17}

  Roads and Passes

  T he battle near the CHP Headquarters in Sacramento continued to rage. Robbie and Morgan were in their battle wagon, in the middle of a huge firefight.

  “Dammit, I’m getting an overheat warning on the rear machine guns,” Morgan said.

  Robbie looked at her. “Hold off on the rear guns for a moment. I’ll watch with the mini gun, you keep an eye across the river and use the front machine guns.”

  “It’ll be okay, the enemy quit rushing us in the back,” Morgan said. “Maybe it’s gonna slow down now.”

  There was still a high volume of fire coming from the CHP building, but it was almost all M60 fire from officers, judging by how rapid the rate was. That tapered off after a couple of minutes. Robbie didn’t see any more enemy trucks coming at them from Tenth Street, and the north bank of the American River was covered with cruising off-roaders.

  “I think we won,” Morgan said.

  “Yeah,” Robbie said, scanning with his gun sight. “No movement.”

  “Checking the apps,” Morgan said, looking at her phone. “Lots of hits. Can’t tell if their alive or dead.”

  “What about the road in? Any more coming?”

  “There’s three truck loads heading northeast as fast as they can go,” she said, looking over at him. “Trying to escape.”

  “Maybe we should chase them,” Robbie said.

  “We should send a message to Ben Dover’s site,” Morgan said. “Warn people they’re coming. Maybe the citizens along the road can take them out. There’s some showing up, from what I’m seeing on the message board.”

  “Oh, you’ve been on that site, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Morgan said.

  “The enemy can monitor that too, you know.”

  “There are private encrypted message boards you can use,” Morgan said. “Just came on line this morning. You should check it out.”

  “I will,” he said as she typed on her phone.

  “Sent a message to Jules about that. Suggested that we send messages to Auburn and other towns along I-80.”

  Robbie laughed. “He’ll ask you to do it.”

  “I’m good with that.” Her phone dinged with a reply. She read it and laughed.

  “I knew it,” Robbie said, watching her type messages on her phone. “Let’s get with the others and see what to do next.” He shut down siege mode and fired up the engine, then turned left, heading towards the CHP building. Other battle wagons and a lot of off-roaders were already there. As he pulled up, Tex parked next to him. The CHP Brass was just coming out of the building. Jules, Ted, Sparky, and Tex walked up to meet them, shaking hands. Robbie and Morgan fol
lowed, joined by Justin and Katie.

  “I can’t thank you guys enough,” said a tall man in a CHP officer’s uniform, fifty-something with a dark complexion and bushy grey eyebrows. “I’m Kent Sherman, acting head of the CHP.”

  “Hello, I’m Jules.” He introduced the others, and Sherman introduced the CHP brass.

  “You guys have the apps, no?” Jules asked.

  “Yes, and we saw the problem coming. The three that were across the street weren’t visible to us until this morning. I’m wondering how the hell they got there.”

  “Did you kill them, partner?” Tex asked.

  Sherman nodded yes. “We killed them before their friends got here. There were three Islamists and two of those UN creeps. We found them using that high-resolution PC version of the long-range app.”

  “We need to search that building,” Ted said. “Something’s not right. You can’t make RFID chips disappear and re-appear.”

  “Yeah, I agree,” Robbie said. “Something doesn’t smell right.”

  Sherman glanced at him, then saw Morgan standing there, recognizing her from the video. He bowed at her. “It’s an honor to be in your presence.” Morgan looked at him, not sure he was talking to her. He smiled. “Sorry. That video testimony really got to me. The whole state is proud of you and the others for what you did. It took courage.”

  Morgan smiled, face turning red. “Thank you.”

  “Let’s get over there and check this out,” Ted said.

  “Maybe we ought to handle that,” Sherman said. “Might be dangerous. There might be stragglers alive.”

  “Ted, Sparky, and Tex are former Special Forces,” Jules said. “I former Merc. We can handle. If you have such men, send with us.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Sherman said. “We have a couple.” He pulled out his radio. “Teter and Goldberg, get down here. We need folks with Special Forces Training.”

  “Roger that,” scratched a voice over the radio speaker. The two men showed up after less than a minute, both carrying M4s. Teter was a six-foot black man with a bald head and huge arms. Goldberg was just as tall, but thinner, with hawkish eyes and salt and pepper hair.

  “We going into that apartment building?” Goldberg asked.

  “Yeah, we need to figure out how they snuck in there without touching off the apps,” Ted said. The men introduced themselves, checked their weapons, and took off towards the apartment building.

  ***

  Clem rode shotgun with Sid in his old Jeep, Yvonne in the back with her rifle.

  “Good idea to find the tracks,” Clem said. “That’ll help us focus our surveillance.”

  “We also need to look for other likely places that they haven’t used yet,” Yvonne said.

  “Yes,” Sid said. They cruised up the loose dirt rising above the pasture behind Garrett’s ranch house.

  “It’s a shame those bastards damaged the barn,” Clem said. “Hope he didn’t lose much livestock.”

  “He lost two milk cows,” Sid said. “Bastards.”

  “That’s too bad,” Clem said. “There’s the tracks there. See them, behind where the mortars were set up?”

  “Yeah,” Sid said, “but we need to get out and walk it a bit. There were k-turns and stuff here. I want to find where that thins out to one set of tracks.”

  He pulled the Jeep over, and the three of them got out, walking towards the hills.

  “I’m losing it,” Clem said, searching the ground in front of them as they walked.

  “There it is,” Sid said, pointing ahead of them about twenty yards. “See. It looks like the vehicles came through that pass there, about three hundred yards out.” He pointed.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Clem said, shaking his head. “Injuns,”

  Sid flashed him a sheepish grin. “Be nice.”

  “I’m in awe,” Clem said, “and that’s the truth.”

  “Let’s drive through the pass,” Yvonne said.

  They went back to their Jeep and drove slowly, Sid’s eyes straining out the windshield.

  “This pass is narrow,” Yvonne said. “Maybe we ought to bring some dynamite over here and blow it.”

  “We’d have to get permission from Garrett,” Clem said. “This pass could be useful for grazing. Look at that pasture land over there. He might not want to cut that off.”

  They got through the skinny pass and drove down off the hillside, still on un-grated dirt, rocks hitting the bottom of the Jeep as Sid sped up.

  “Look, we’re getting to a fire road,” Sid said, nodding ahead.

  “See it,” Clem said. “Wonder where that goes? Hope we can still see the tracks.”

  “We will, if it’s not packed too tight,” Sid said. He slowed as they approached it, both sides of the road marked by a loose mound of dirt from the bulldozers that created it. He stopped and jumped out of the Jeep to take a closer look, the others following him.

  “Coming from the right side,” Yvonne said.

  “Yep, good tracks too,” Sid said. He turned and looked back towards where they came. “Look, you can see the pass from here.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Clem said as he looked. “I see more horse tracks than tire tracks on the road.”

  “That’s no problem,” Sid said. “Get in. Let’s follow this. We’ll be able to see where they came in.” They drove over the hump of dirt on the side of the fire road.

  “Wonder if Garrett made these roads?” Clem asked.

  “They’re at least a few years old,” Sid said. “Don’t remember when I first heard of this place.”

  “It’s been at least five years,” Yvonne said. “Maybe longer.”

  Sid sped up.

  “Can you see going this fast?” Clem asked.

  “We’ll see if they got off the road,” Sid said. “The mound on the side of the road will be crushed. Impossible to miss.”

  “Oh, I get it,” Clem said.

  “This road goes pretty far,” Yvonne said, squinting from the back into the sunny landscape.

  “There’s trees up ahead about five hundred yards,” Sid said. “Wonder if there’s a creek there?”

  “Looks like it,” Clem said. “Maybe there’s fish.”

  Yvonne laughed. “Still a fisherman, eh?”

  “Always a fisherman,” Clem said, turning his head back to grin at her. “Seems like a waste of time now, though.”

  “Nothing left the road up to that next ridge,” Sid said after they crossed the five hundred yards of flat land. “I’m gonna get out and look.” He stopped on the road and jumped out, rushing in front of the Jeep and kneeling. The others stayed in the Jeep. He stood, looking around, then got back into the driver’s seat.

  “Still there?” Yvonne asked.

  “Yeah, but this incline has taken some water runoff, so it’s slightly rutted and packed a little better. The tracks are still there, but they might not be in a week.”

  “Too shallow?” Clem asked.

  “Exactly,” Sid said, putting the Jeep back into gear. They climbed the grade, the road going between clumps of boulders at the summit, then coming down, steeper than the other side.

  “I’ll bet somebody had to dynamite boulders out of the way to build this stretch,” Clem said.

  “Probably,” Sid said as he dropped the Jeep into a lower gear. “This drive wasn’t much fun at night, I’ll bet.”

  “We must be close to the boundary of the property,” Yvonne said. “There’s barb wire ahead, to the left.”

  “Garrett might own the land on either side,” Clem said. “I heard him say that they bought up several places over the years to give them what they have now.”

  “I’d love to have this much land,” Sid said.

  “Land ties you down,” Yvonne said.

  Sid shot her a grin. “That’s what my dad used to say.”

  “Look, the dirt on the left side of the road is crushed ahead,” Clem said.

  “Good eye,” Sid said, slowing as they approached it. “There it is.
Somebody took down part of the fence. See it?”

  “Son of a bitch,” Clem said. “We gonna keep following the tracks?”

  “Hell yeah,” Sid said, turning the Jeep in that direction. “Tracks are pretty visible here.”

  “Yeah, even a paleface like me can see them,” Clem said, his shoulders shaking as he chuckled. Yvonne rolled her eyes.

  Sid slowed as he drove through the broken part of the fence. “Tracks are still strong.”

  “What’s that, shining by the side of the road?” Yvonne asked.

  “Good question,” Sid said, stopping the Jeep. He got out and trotted over to the reflection, coming back with a can in his hand. “Red Bull.” He tossed the can into the back, behind Yvonne.

  “I can’t drink that stuff,” Clem said. “I get the shakes bad.”

  “That drink is for the young,” Yvonne said.

  Sid kept driving, the tracks still deep enough to see. The terrain was starting to descend slightly, as a small ridge rose out on the right side. They rounded it, and ran into an asphalt road.

  “There we go,” Clem said.

  “Stay in the Jeep,” Sid said to Clem as he got out, getting down on his hands and knees to look at the tracks near the road, and the asphalt. He got back behind the wheel. “They came in from the right-hand side.”

  “You can tell that?” Clem asked.

  “Yep,” he said as they started driving. “This is a private road. It’s not maintained very well. Look at the weeds coming up here and there.”

  “Yeah, and the edges of the road are breaking up too,” Clem said.

  They rode on the rough asphalt for about four miles, no structures in sight, and then the asphalt ended, the road turning to dirt. Sid stopped and got out, kneeling again.

  “Tracks?” Clem asked from his seat.

  “Still here,” Sid said. “Nowhere else they could’ve gone, from what I can tell.”

  “They must have looked at some good satellite photos to figure out their way in,” Yvonne said.

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Sid said as he got back behind the wheel. They went another several miles when his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket, slowing down for a moment. “Ed.” He put it on speaker.