“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that the runway isn’t wide enough for us to make a normal turn. Without thrust reversers, I can’t make a partial turn, back up, then turn us the rest of the way. One of the landing gears could get stuck in the ground and then we’d be kaput.”
“I saw a pushback at the 155th Squadron base.”
Richards looked down to see the Air Force girl, Kurnow, sticking her head up through the hole in the floor that led to the nose hatch. “What the hell is a pushback?”
“It’s a tractor to move planes around,” she told him. “I can head over there in the tanker and get it, then meet you at the south end of the runway.”
Richards looked at Ferris, who, after a moment, nodded.
“Jacobs! Coleman!” Richards called to two of the FBI agents in the cargo area. “Get over here!”
The two men unstrapped and hurried over.
“You two provide cover for her,” he nodded to Kurnow. Kneeling down, Carl said, “Good luck.”
She nodded, then disappeared back down the trunk.
To the two agents, Richards said, “Go! Tell the Marines in the Humvees we’re moving down the runway and to follow along.”
They quickly climbed down after Kurnow.
“Okay, here we go,” Ferris said. He released the brakes and eased the throttles forward.
Over the roar of the engines coming up through the trunk to the nose hatch, Richards heard him say, “And I thought for a while there that we might actually survive this.”
***
“Tango Two, Tango Two,” Jack called out over the radio, “watch behind you! Behind you!”
It was too late. A group of dodging, twisting harvesters broke from behind a flaming heap of their kin and leaped aboard the LAV just to Jack’s left. One of the Marines who’d been firing from the passenger compartment in the rear was thrown from the vehicle and pounced upon by two of the things, while the other creatures dove through the hatch to slaughter the other crewmen. The vehicle rocked from side to side until a plume of flame and smoke erupted from the hatches at the rear and the body of the commander, minus his lower half, was blasted from the turret to land on the far side of the now-burning vehicle.
“We’re not going to be able to hold much longer,” Terje said in between bursts from his machine gun.
They’d been gradually retreating to the north, forced to give up precious yards of runway to keep the harvesters from flanking them. No matter how many they killed, more appeared. The only thing that had saved the Marines was the brutal flammability of their enemy. Pyres of the dead acted as fortifications against the living.
But while the harvesters burned with wanton fury, they didn’t burn for long. Their malleable flesh was like rocket fuel, blazing fast and furious. As the fires waned, more harvesters leaped over to start the cycle anew, with every new pile of smoldering dead coming closer and closer.
The end of the runway was shrouded in a pall of oily smoke from the guns and burning harvesters. Jack’s eyes burned as much as his throat from having to breathe in the stinking mixture.
“Jack, look!”
He turned around and saw the nose of the KC-135 emerge from the smoke as it taxied toward them down the runway.
“Goddammit!” He fired a burst at a small group of harvesters that dashed toward the plane.
He missed, but the trio of Humvees escorting the plane made quick work of the attackers with their heavy machine guns.
That’s when he noticed how fast the plane was moving. It wasn’t anywhere near takeoff speed, but it wasn’t poking along like a taxiing airliner, either.
Ferris brought the plane to a smooth halt as he reached two wide white lines painted on the runway, just past where an antenna mast rose from the field on the western side.
A squat tractor-like vehicle buzzed down the main taxiway, then turned onto a small access road of cracked and broken concrete that joined with the main runway.
Jack keyed his radio. “Pull back toward the plane, but don’t let any of those bastards through!” Most of the machine guns had run out of ammunition, and half the men and women left to his tiny command were shooting the harvesters with shotguns and assault rifles.
The three Humvees added a welcome weight of fire, but it was going to be a close thing.
The tractor backed up to the nose gear of the plane. The blond airman whom he’d seen fueling the jet jumped out of the vehicle’s cab and ran back behind it to connect the tow bar.
A group of three harvesters broke through and ran straight for her. None of the Marines dared fire a shot for fear of hitting the plane.
“Watch out!”
As if she had heard him, which was impossible over the din of the engines, she whirled around. Drawing a pistol from a shoulder holster, she aimed with cold precision and fired three times. All three harvesters went down.
“Christ,” Jack said as the woman jumped into the tractor and got the plane turned around, pointing north on Runway 36.
Finished, she unhitched the tow bar and drove the tractor off the runway far enough for the engines to clear it before she ran back to the plane.
“Dawson,” Richards called. “It’s now or never!”
“Marines,” Jack called over the unit common channel, “retreat to the plane, but watch your backs!”
Pulling up as close as they could without getting in the way of the plane’s wings or behind the engine exhausts, the Marines abandoned their vehicles and made a fighting retreat.
The oncoming horde of harvesters pressed closer.
“Get aboard!” Jack ordered.
One by one, they climbed up through the nose hatch. Only ten Marines had survived.
“Ferris!”
“I’m here, Jack,” the pilot said.
“Get off the brakes and get this bird moving or they’re going to be crawling all over you.”
“Shit.”
The plane began to move. The Marines pushed and shoved one another up the ladder to the flight deck like their comrades were rounds of ammunition in a breech loading cannon.
Then Jack, Terje, and the airman were left, along with an army of harvesters charging toward them.
Jack grabbed the woman and shoved her toward the ladder. “Get up there!”
“No! You go first!” She raised her pistol and shot another harvester that had strayed too close.
“I’ll go,” Terje said. “I’m out.” He tossed his now useless weapon to the ground and disappeared up the ladder.
“Go!” She fired twice more, and two more harvesters went down.
Jack took down a third before he said, “Bloody stubborn woman.”
They were both running now to keep up with the plane. Jack grabbed the ladder and hauled himself up.
The airman was right behind him. He reached down and grabbed one of her hands and hauled her up into the cockpit, just as a dark appendage reached for her leg.
She fired another round from the Desert Eagle, and the arm was severed in a spray of ichor. Having fired the last round in the magazine, she dropped the pistol to the concrete that rushed by below them.
Jack dumped out the ladder as the plane suddenly accelerated, the turbofan engines rising to a deep, whining roar as Ferris pushed the throttles to the stops.
Bracing himself, Jack held onto the young woman’s legs as she leaned down and grabbed the hatch handle. With a grunt of effort, she managed to slam it shut and latch it before he hauled her back up to the cockpit.
Collapsing into one another’s arms, both heaving with exhaustion, Jack gave a whoop of joy as he felt the nose of the plane rotate, the nose gear coming up off the ground.
A moment later the main wheels left the runway with a bump, and the KC-135 and its passengers were in the air, with the earth and all its horrors falling away behind them.
AT WHAT COST
Jack lay against the cold metal of the floor, sensing the increased sense of gravity as Ferris pulled the plane’s nose up into a
climb. He heard shouts and cheers from the cargo compartment aft, and the Marines broke out in a round of applause. Someone started a chant of “Air Force! Air Force! More than a Chair Force!” Ferris shot back with some particularly colorful epithets, and everyone broke out laughing.
“That’s for you as much as Ferris,” Jack said to Kurnow, who was curled up against him.
She smiled. “I just did what I had to.”
“And it’s a damn good thing,” Carl added. “Come on, you two,” he said. “Get out here where you can be properly celebrated.”
“You first, major,” Kurnow said. “The best can wait for last.”
“As you wish, staff sergeant,” Jack said. As soon as he stepped through the doorway to the cargo compartment, he found himself in Naomi’s arms, her lips on his. “Naomi,” he said when their lips finally parted, “you should be in bed.” Her skin was deathly pale, and her eyes, one brown and one blue, were terribly bloodshot. Glancing down, he saw that the bandages over the wound in her leg were red with blood.
“Don’t you wish,” she whispered in his ear. “You can take me back to my cot in a minute. But I need this. I think we all do.”
“We made it!”
Jack looked down to see Melissa, clutching Alexander to her chest. She pressed up against Jack, and he reached down and gave her a hug, then rubbed the big cat’s head.
Alexander lashed out with one paw and opened his mouth in a hiss.
“Chill out, cat,” Jack said.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” Melissa said. “He scratched me, too.”
Jack was just wishing they had some beer or champagne when one of the Marines pressed a metal flask into his hands.
“Drink up, sir,” the man said with a wide grin.
Jack raised the flask in a toast. “To the Corps!” Then he tossed his head back and took a deep swig, hoping it wasn’t filled with spit from chewing tobacco. A trail of liquid fire ran down his throat to his stomach, and he began to cough.
The Marines had a good laugh at his expense, then they cheered again as Kurnow appeared through the doorway, with Richards behind her.
Grinning at Kurnow, Jack was just about to hand her the flask and offer up another cheer for the Air Force when everything went to hell.
***
Alexander could sense the enemy falling away from the strange metal box in which he, his feline companion, and the humans were now encased. It was loud and foul-smelling, the strong scent of frightened, unwashed humans intermingled with noxious smells from man-made things and the lingering stench of the enemy. But now, at last, the fear began to leave him.
Except…a single threat signal emerged as the background sensory noise faded. It was clear and constant. It was here.
His companion felt it, too. She sat on the bunk above him, staring toward the end of the great metal box where the humans had gathered and were making noise.
Then the girl came and picked him up. He growled at her to signal his displeasure, but she either did not hear him or, as humans often tended to do, ignored his warnings.
He squirmed, but the girl held him firmly while making soothing noises. He clawed her as a warning, but did nothing more as she carried him toward the gathered humans, toward it.
His own human hugged the girl and reached down to stroke his head. He batted the human’s hand away and opened his jaws to hiss a warning, a challenge.
The thing was close now. So very close.
Then it appeared, stepping through the doorway.
The enemy saw him, and its gaze locked with his for just an instant before Alexander attacked.
***
The Kurnow-thing’s attention was focused on the big cat in the girl’s arms, and so the harvester had no warning before the other beast, Koshka, dashed through the legs of the humans clustered around Kurnow to sink her teeth and claws into the malleable flesh of Kurnow’s leg.
As Kurnow tried to kick Koshka away, Alexander sprang from the girl’s arms, the partially undone pink bandages streaming behind him like war banners. His fangs bit deep into her throat.
Kurnow screeched in pain as she flailed at the cats with her hands and spun like a top, her arms smashing into the humans around her.
***
The force of Alexander’s leap shoved Melissa backward into Renee, who instinctively pushed her forward again toward the monster. Kurnow — the harvester — tried to grab Alexander, but Terje was there, holding onto its wrist while a female Marine tried to grab the other one. Both were sent tumbling into the close-packed group of well-wishers, half of whom were knocked to the ground like bowling pins. Several of the Marines who still had weapons raised them, taking aim at Kurnow, when Jack shouted, “Guns down! Hold your fire!”
Mr. Richards tried to grab the thing from behind, but it slammed an elbow into his face, knocking him back into the cockpit.
The stinger on its cord, which looked like a long, skinny, slimy worm, shot out of Kurnow’s chest to strike another Marine in the face. The man screamed and went down. The hand-length stinger, now dripping with lethal venom, pulled free and whipsawed through the air like it had a mind of its own, and everyone scrambled out of its reach.
Everyone, that is, except Melissa. Darting under the questing needle while Kurnow was preoccupied with Alexander, Melissa grabbed Koshka and yanked her clear of the harvester’s leg. Koshka raked the back of Melissa’s arm before Melissa half threw and half shoved the cat away.
Meanwhile, Alexander was moving with blinding speed, clawing, biting, and shifting position to attack again, just a hair’s breadth ahead of the human-looking hands that were trying to kill him. The big cat shifted position to the harvester’s back, sinking his teeth into her spine between the shoulders, right where Kurnow couldn’t reach him. The harvester whirled around and let out a long shriek as Alexander bit into something more substantial than malleable tissue.
That’s when Melissa grabbed him. Wrapping both arms around his chest, she yanked him loose, then turned around and sent him flying into the gawking group of terrified onlookers.
Both cats, their flight reflex overcoming that of fight, beat a hasty retreat to the rear of the plane.
Until then, Melissa’s only thought had been to save the cats. She hadn’t given any consideration to getting away herself.
In the blink of an eye, Kurnow had her by the throat and had pulled her close.
The stinger was hovering about half an inch from Melissa’s eyeball, and she could feel the umbilical against the back of her head, pulsing and undulating where it emerged from Kurnow’s chest. It made Melissa want to throw up.
“Stop,” Kurnow said. “Put your weapons down or I’ll kill her.”
Then she brought up her other hand, which held a grenade. Bringing it to her mouth, she pulled the pin with her teeth and spat the metal ring out on the deck.
***
Naomi lay on the deck where she had landed after a Marine had bowled her over. She now watched with horrified eyes as the harvester, Kurnow, held Melissa, the damnable stinger pointing right at one of the girl’s eyes.
“Stop,” the monster said. “Put your weapons down or I’ll kill her. Try to kill me,” it gestured with the hand holding the grenade, “and you all die.”
Everyone lowered their weapons.
Naomi managed to get to her feet with the help of Terje and one of the Marines.
The thing looked at her. “Naomi,” it said, just before its face began to morph, the features losing their clarity as the malleable tissue reformed into a likeness of Vijay.
“You,” Jack hissed.
“Yes,” it said in Vijay’s voice. It was his face and his head, absurdly out of proportion atop Kurnow’s petite frame.
“What do you want?” Naomi asked.
“I should think that was obvious enough,” the thing said. “I want to live. I want to continue helping you. There is much yet that we can accomplish together.”
Naomi laughed. “So you can what,
slaughter the rest of us like you and your friends did to the technicians and Marines back at the lab?” She shook her head. “Please. We’re fallible and don’t always make the best choices, but we’re certainly not that stupid.”
“There’s nothing you can offer us for your life,” Jack said. “It’s not worth shit.”
“And hers?” The stinger drew a lazy pattern through the air, just above Melissa’s skin.
Naomi hobbled forward a step, raising her hand in protest. “Don’t! Don’t hurt her. She’s done you no harm.”
“Listen to me, Naomi,” it said. “We acted out of self-preservation.” It turned to Jack. “Tell me that you were simply going to let us go, that we were going to be allowed to live.”
“Actually, I did want to let you go,” Naomi said. “The others didn’t, but I wanted to set you free.”
“You’re telling the truth,” it said. “Interesting.” It glanced at the biological sample cooler beneath Renee’s seat. Renee, seeing where the thing was looking, moved to block the thing’s view. “You have the virus?”
“Yes. We took the other flasks from the incubator that your friends left behind.”
“As proof of my good faith, I will tell you something you might wish to know, something that Kurnow knew. Something that will help spread the virus.”
“And that is?”
Vijay smiled. “This plane. This flying gas truck. Did you know that this particular variant has two separate fuel delivery systems? One could be used to hold the plane’s fuel, while the other could perhaps be sanitized and filled with a viral slurry.”
“And then what?”
The thing’s smile widened. “Then you could fly over infested areas, dumping the slurry from the boom, just as the pilots would sometimes jettison excess fuel before landing.”
“Jesus,” Jack said, turning to look at Naomi. “It’d be like a king size crop duster.”
“Quite correct, Jack. It would not, perhaps, be optimal, for a large percentage of the virus would be killed off during dispersal. But much would survive to infect the target hosts.” It looked at Jack. “Just think of the potential applications. In a single sortie, you could create a manageable harvester population over the area of a small city!”
Reaping The Harvest (Harvest Trilogy, Book 3) Page 36