Richards glanced away, then looked back at him. “You have no doubts? No reservations?”
Jack shook his head. “None. She’s the rock that I cling to, my friend. If she told me the sun was going to rise in the west tomorrow, I’d believe her.”
Carl’s mouth turned up slightly at the corners. “That just makes you a gullible dumb-ass, Dawson.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, good enough. Getting there is going to be the tough part.”
“No, shit.”
The two of them were standing on the rear deck of Lowmack’s LAV, which would lead the other vehicles out. The column of vehicles they’d managed to salvage from the motor pool was lined up in front of the lab building at what Jack hoped was a safe distance from the blazing personnel buildings.
“Morgan’s turning this into a damn circus,” Carl grumbled. “He’d have brought along a Humvee for every one of us if I’d have let him.”
“You should be happy. We’ll need the extra vehicles.”
Behind their LAV were the other four LAVs, two of them bringing up the rear of the column. In between were ten Humvees and four six-wheeled MTVR trucks. Two of the trucks were towing fuel bowsers and had their cargo beds loaded with Jerry cans full of water and cases of MRE meals. The other two were towing one hundred kilowatt generators in case the lab in Lincoln was without power, and had their cargo beds loaded with spare tires and parts for the vehicles.
Two of the Humvees near the rear of the column, sandwiched in between a pair of LAVs, carried the harvesters. Over Carl’s protestations, Jack had insisted that they be armed for their protection. So they had been given four shotguns loaded with Dragons Breath ammunition. Jack figured they couldn’t do too much damage with those to any of the other vehicles before the escorting LAVs blew the Humvees to bits.
Every vehicle, even those with the harvesters, carried as much ammunition as the vehicle could hold.
“I think it’s about time we left, sir,” Lowmack told him. “The scouts are reporting a lot of bugs heading our way.”
“Roger that,” Jack replied. He heard the crump of a mortar firing. Some enterprising Marines had salvaged one of the 81mm mortars from the roof of the lab building and crammed it into the back of one of the Humvees, packing the rest of the vehicle with white phosphorus and high explosive mortar rounds. Lowmack had sent the vehicle out to scout out the enemy and start raining on their parade.
“We’re ready,” Howard reported. He was riding in one of the Humvees toward the rear of the column.
“All right,” Carl said. “I guess I better get to my ride.” He stuck out his hand. “Good luck, Dawson.”
“You, too.”
Carl climbed down and headed for his Humvee where Renee was waiting for him.
Terje poked his head out of the LAV’s troop compartment. “This should be fun.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass.” Jack dropped down beside him, careful not to hit Naomi or Melissa with his feet.
The two cats were ensconced in boxes lined with fleecy blankets, Alexander beside Melissa, and Koshka next to Naomi. Alexander peered up at him with his green eyes, and Jack leaned down to give him a quick scratch under the chin. Naomi had sedated Koshka before splinting her leg. She gently caressed one of the sleeping cat’s front paws.
Jack reached over and took her hand. “Are you ready?”
Naomi looked up and nodded, giving his hand a quick squeeze.
Hopping up to sit on the rear deck beside Terje, who handed him a rifle, Jack spoke into the radio. “This is Dawson. Let’s roll.”
***
Jack took them north to avoid the choked kill zone of I-80 for as long as possible. They made their way along Denton Road. He planned to keep heading east on Denton until they reached the town of Central City, then veer a bit farther north on US-30 to catch 92, which would take them across the Platte River, which was the only major natural obstacle between them and Lincoln. He hoped that route would keep them clear of the harvesters coming up from the south.
Just before they reached the intersection with Merrick Road, they passed a small cemetery on the southeast corner.
“Huh,” Terje said, looking at the GPS. “It says here that this is called the Norwegian Cemetery.”
“Let’s try not to add any more bodies to it, shall we?”
Terje grunted. “I have no plans to die in Nebraska. It’s much too flat here.”
Jack laughed. “You should see some parts of Texas.”
They passed endless fields, many of them edged with trees. Some of the fields were fallow, while others had early spring crops, and the leaves on the trees were only just starting to emerge from their buds. It was cool, bordering on chilly, especially sitting in the open on the LAV, and it would get colder as the sun went down, which wouldn’t be long now. Cows raised their heads and twitched their ears as the convoy passed by.
“It seems odd that we haven’t seen any harvesters,” Terje said after a while.
“Let’s count our blessings,” Jack told him. “According to the last imagery I was able to dig up before we left, most of the big harvesters were due east and south of the base. I’m sure some must be around here, but I’m hoping we miss most of them.”
“At least until we get closer to Lincoln.”
“Yeah,” Jack said, uneasy. With a population of just over a quarter of a million people, Lincoln wasn’t huge, but concentrations of people also meant possible concentrations of harvesters.
Ten minutes later, Jack was doubting the wisdom of coming this way.
“Contact right!” Lowmack reported just before his gunner opened fire with the coaxial machine gun on a group of harvesters heading for the road. The tracer rounds stitched across the group of creatures, dropping some and setting others alight.
Jack saw the turrets of the LAVs in the column turn to point in the direction of the action. The gunners manning the .50 caliber machine guns in the Humvees did the same.
He keyed the radio. “Watch your sectors! I want eyeballs watching three hundred and sixty degrees around us.”
The Marines in the other vehicles turned their weapons back to their assigned sectors, alternating left and right, with the last vehicle, an LAV, turning its weapon to cover the rear of the column.
Lowmack’s added his top-mounted 7.62 machine gun to the firepower raking the approaching harvesters, then his gunner opened fire with the vehicle’s 25mm cannon.
“Major,” Lowmack said, “I think we may have a situation developing here.”
More and more harvesters were streaming toward the road. Many of them had been milling around in the fields, while more had begun to appear from a line of trees about two hundred meters away.
The 25mm cannon raked the tree line.
The result was instantaneous and terrifying. A solid mass of harvesters surged forward from the trees, and more rose up from the fields to the east, beyond which lay the Platte River about three kilometers away.
One of the LAVs farther back in the column opened fire, the commander reporting, “Contact left, ten o’clock!”
Jack turned to look, and saw another mass of harvesters emerging from another line of trees behind a group of farm buildings about five hundred meters north of their position.
In only a few seconds, every vehicle in the column was firing at waves of harvesters, thousands of them, approaching from the north and east. Despite the massive casualties his people were inflicting, the harvesters were getting closer, and their numbers were still growing.
Keying his radio, Jack ordered, “Mortar crew, start laying down a barrier of Willie Pete between us and the harvesters approaching from that line of trees to the north. For everyone else, stop and turn around! Reverse the line of march and head back toward Central City! We’ll cover the rear.”
The only thing that saved them, Jack reflected afterward, was the furiously burning bodies of the harvesters themselves. The flames became so intense at one point before Lowmack’s LAV was able to turn and follow the othe
r vehicles that Jack and Terje had to duck down inside to avoid being scorched.
“I hope we don’t run into our friends that were coming up from the south,” Terje said.
“What if we do?” Melissa looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “What if we can’t get through?”
“We will,” Jack said. “I promise.” He leaned over and put a hand on her shoulder, speaking loud enough that she could hear him over the firing of the LAVs Bushmaster cannon and machine guns. “We knew when we started out that this wasn’t going to be easy, honey. We expected there would be lots of bugs, but we’re prepared for them. We’ll be okay.”
She nodded, but didn’t look convinced. Naomi wrapped her arm around her and pulled her close. “We’ll be all right. Jack will get us there.”
“Damn straight.” With that, he climbed back up to sit on the rear deck where he could see better. The vehicles had stopped firing as they finally left the harvesters behind.
“I’m glad we brought a lot of ammunition,” Terje said. “If this keeps up, we’re going to need every round.”
“If we have to fight like that all the way to Lincoln, I’m not sure it’ll matter. Those bastards are determined to get at us.”
As the sun went down, the LAV gunners switched to their thermal sights. Everyone else flipped down their night vision goggles, which turned the world an eerie green.
Jack could sense the anticipation building as they ran southwest along US-30, and had to clear his throat, which had become bone dry, to give his next orders to convoy. “All units, turn south on 18th Road, which should be the next intersection. Once you get to Hord Lake Road, take a left and head east. It’s the first hardball road you’ll come to, so you can’t miss it. Whatever you do, maintain speed when you reach the bridge and do not stop. We’re pushing across the river, no matter what.”
In turn, each vehicle confirmed the order, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief as the lead LAV, which had originally been at the tail end of the column, slowed and made the turn onto the dirt road, and the other vehicles followed suit. It seemed like a simple thing, but Jack had been on more than one operation where a driver had screwed up and blown a turn and everyone else just followed along like lemmings.
“Three kilometers to Hord Lake Road,” Terje told him, pointing at the GPS display.
“Lowmack, what’s our speed?”
“Thirty-five miles an hour, sir.”
Shaking his head, Jack keyed his radio again. “All vehicles, step on the gas and bring your speed to forty-five.”
“I hope no cows get in the way,” Terje said.
Jack tightened his grip on his rifle, scanning the open fields around them. “To hell with the cows. I hope forty-five is fast enough to outrun any harvesters who want to come chase us.”
“Good point.”
“Turning onto Hord Lake now,” the commander of the first vehicle reported.
So far, so good, Jack thought.
The lead LAV commander spoke again. “Major, there’s a thick band of trees about a kilometer from the intersection here. It looks clear so far…oh, shit!”
Jack heard a Bushmaster open up, followed by machine guns.
“Keep moving!” Jack ordered, wishing his vehicle was closer to the head of the column so he could see what was happening. “Don’t stop!”
More weapons were firing now, and he could see the tree line, limned by the weapons flashes and fires that erupted as harvesters were hit with tracer and incendiary rounds.
Motioning for Terje to follow suit, Jack dropped down into the troop compartment, but kept his head up so he could see.
Vehicle commanders and drivers were reporting contact all around as the column passed through the tree line. Machine guns, assault rifles, and shotguns spewing fountains of Dragons Breath blasted away at harvesters attacking from both sides of the road.
Jack shot a harvester that was hanging onto one of the Humvees ahead of them, its arm reaching through the window for the front passenger. He wasn’t sure if he hit the beast, but it didn’t matter. A shotgun blast from inside the Humvee sent the monster flying backward, its body igniting from the halo of Dragons Breath that enveloped it.
One of the Humvees spun off the road and crashed into the trees. It was covered by gleaming, hideous bodies that tore at the doors and windows to get at the occupants. The Humvee following behind slowed and began to pull over to assist the besieged occupants.
“Keep moving, damn you!” Jack shouted into the radio. “Do not stop!” It tore at his heart to leave anyone behind, but to stop now was to die.
The Humvee veered back onto the road and sped up, the .50 caliber gunner pouring fire into the wrecked vehicle, which exploded, scattering burning harvesters like molotov cocktails.
A group of harvesters managed to reach one of the precious cargo trucks, swarming onto the trailer before leaping into the cargo bed. The gunner manning the weapon in a ring over the cab was firing at another group of harvesters and never had a chance. They tore his body from the weapon mount before crawling down after the driver. The big vehicle weaved back and forth across the road before it swerved to the left and overturned, flipping the trailer over and blocking the road just before the bridge.
Jack saw in his distorted green view of the universe that the trailer was one of the fuel bowsers.
“Shit,” he said through gritted teeth as the other vehicles slammed on their brakes and the drivers spun the wheels to right or left to avoid running into the overturned trailer, the truck, and each other. One by one, most of them with harvesters clinging to them, they managed to get around the wreck.
“Lowmack,” Jack ordered, “once we’re past that fuel bowser, put a few cannon rounds into it.”
“With pleasure, sir.”
The other LAVs, trucks, and Humvees dashed across the three hundred meters of the bridge at full speed, with Lowmack’s LAV close behind.
Jack looked behind them. A solid mass of harvesters was pursuing them across the bridge. “Light it up!”
The LAV’s Bushmaster cannon roared, and the fuel bowser exploded in a cascade of fire that rained down on the harvesters. The gunner pumped more rounds into the harvesters leading the charge across the bridge, creating a solid wall of flame that trapped those behind.
“Burn, you bastards,” Jack whispered as the column fled eastward. “Burn in hell.”
ODYSSEY
The odyssey to Lincoln was a hundred miles of kill or be killed. The convoy left a trail of burning harvester corpses in its wake, but had paid in precious blood. Another truck, this one hauling one of the generators, and two Humvees were destroyed. While the crew of one of the Humvees had been saved, five Marines and three civilians had died.
As the column approached the city, Angie Boisson and her agents broke off to take Ferris to Lincoln Airport, which lay just to the northwest of the city, to find anything that would fly. Once Naomi and her harvester allies had created their weapon, Carl wanted the virus and Naomi flown to a safe location. Ferris hadn’t been wild about the idea, but Carl hadn’t given him any choice. “You know,” Ferris had told him, “my old man always told me that learning to fly was the biggest mistake of my life. Now I know why. Pilots get all the shit jobs.”
Not long after Boisson’s departure, Lowmack’s LAV led the way up the overpass over I-80. Both sides of the interstate, all four lanes and the shoulders, were full of cars that had been heading west out of Lincoln. Now it was a parking lot filled with the charred hulks of cars, trucks, and tractor trailers. Most were still on the blacktop, but had overturned on the median or the drainage swales that ran along either side of the blacktop.
Survivors were still fleeing on foot through the mass of cars. They waved frantically at the passing convoy and ran toward the overpass.
But the convoy didn’t stop.
After making it the entire way from SEAL-2 without losing a tire to larvae on the road, three of the vehicles in the column lost at least one tire to them within
a mile of crossing the interstate. Jack had been forced to call a halt to change tires when they reached a spot that had a wide kill zone all around and no immediate evidence of adult harvesters. One Marine’s luck had run out when he was yanking the tire from a Humvee and a larva he hadn’t seen attacked his hand. A pair of Marines held him down while Naomi cut off the limb under the glare of flashlights. When she was done with the grisly operation, one of the Marines tossed the hand and the bruised-looking gob of tissue feeding on it into the grass and set it on fire.
It had taken them nearly five hours to cover the hundred miles from SEAL-2, and everyone was ready to drop. But the real work was just about to begin.
“Everything’s dark,” Terje said as the LAV came to a stop at the intersection of West Rokeby Road and Southwest 12th Street, not far from the perimeter of the Lincoln Research University campus. It was much smaller than the sprawling campus of the University of Nebraska at Lincoln, for it had been created with only one true purpose, kept secret at the time: to engineer the children of the original harvesters and design a system to inflict their genes upon the Earth. He glanced at Jack. “Do you think this will work?”
Jack shrugged. “Sure. All we have to do is secure the campus, get power to the labs, and tackle about three dozen other minor problems. It’ll be a piece of cake.”
“I don’t see anything, sir,” the gunner said after scanning the campus through his thermal sights. “This place looks dead.”
“Good enough.” Keying his radio to the convoy frequency, Jack said, “All vehicles, follow our lead. The objective looks deserted, but stay sharp.” Then, leaning down, he said to Naomi, “Okay, babe, you’re up. Lead us in.”
***
Terje smiled at Naomi as he dropped down into the troop compartment so she could take his place, but she caught the wistful glance he gave her as she stood up and breathed in the open air. The trip had been a jarring, vibrating, blind hell of fear and worry inside the belly of the LAV as the convoy had fought its way through to Lincoln. Jack had insisted she stay in the vehicle, but she would have been far happier sticking her head out the top hatch, rifle in hand, than trapped down below.
Reaping The Harvest (Harvest Trilogy, Book 3) Page 24