“It was a long one.”
“No need to explain. I can imagine.”
Darby handed one of the containers to Colleen and escorted her back to the lab. There he carefully removed the tape from the containers and lifted the lids to peer inside, where rows of sealed vials fitted into cavities in the polystyrene greeted him.
A note was taped to the inside of one of the lids, and Colleen peeled it from the container and read it aloud.
“Charles. Greetings from paradise. Each vial holds ten doses of vaccine, which has been tested as discussed via radio. The other container holds the relevant cultures. Reach out if anything’s in question. Good luck, and God bless. You hold the future of the world in your hands. Elliot.”
Darby smiled and nodded like he’d listened to his favorite symphony’s opening measures. “Elliot’s always been a bit melodramatic,” he explained.
“Well, it’s a big day. Nothing wrong with a little hyperbole,” she said with a wink. Colleen was twenty going on fifty, razor sharp and possessed with a particular charm Darby fought daily to resist. He routinely encouraged her to find a suitable mate among the young men of the militia, but she dismissed his prodding with complaints that they were all immature clods and dullards.
“Future of the world, eh? Well, perhaps not that much of an exaggeration if the virus spreads any more than it has.”
“But didn’t you say that was unlikely?”
“Of course. But nothing’s impossible. This is our insurance against the unthinkable happening. Which, given our recent history, isn’t as far-fetched as we’d like to think. All it would take is one carrier traveling west. Or someone weaponizing it, God forbid.”
“Why would anyone do that?” she asked.
“We as a species have been killing each other since we could hold a rock or a club, so I have little faith that our nature has changed much. Wherever there’s a thirst for power, death follows.”
“But the world’s a shambles,” Colleen protested.
“That it is. But no more than it was when the Mongols or Visigoths swept the land. The poor condition of the planet didn’t stop them from butchering everyone in their path.” He shook his head. “No, the truth is that we’re a warlike tribe, and if there’s an atrocity that can be imagined, it will be carried out by someone.”
“Well, thank goodness you’re here to stop this one.”
“Or do my best.”
Colleen studied her shoes as Darby removed a vial and studied the seal on it. “Will there be anything else?” she asked.
“What? Oh. No. Thank you. I’ll just inventory these and finish up my work. Go ahead and take the rest of the afternoon off. I won’t be much company, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t mind staying.”
Darby shook his head, pretending not to notice the undercurrent of pleasant tension neither of them overtly acknowledged. He hummed to himself as he walked to a workbench and searched for a felt-tip pen, and Colleen’s shoulders slumped slightly as she made her way to the door.
“Let me know if you need anything,” she said. “I’ll be in the mess hall helping my mom.”
“Perfect. Will do.”
Darby stole a look at Colleen’s departing form and exhaled heavily. “Youth is wasted on the young,” he whispered to himself. Much as he was tempted by her thinly veiled overtures, he was the leader of the compound, and she deserved someone young and vital with whom she could start a family, not a broken-down doctor who had socks older than Colleen. He’d tried to steer her toward Lisle, but she’d been uninterested – a shame, as he needed a companion, and even if not of robust physique, he was certainly possessed of a strong moral character and keen intellect.
He sighed and found the marker he’d been after, and pushed libidinous thoughts from his mind as he turned to the work he’d been waiting for years to begin.
~ ~ ~
Night had fallen and the compound was dark, the sentries in the turrets drowsy as they neared the end of their shift. An owl hooted from one of the trees by the eastern wall and then flapped away, frightened by a loud pop from a nearby thicket.
One of the two sentries’ heads exploded from a custom-loaded subsonic slug, splattering his partner with blood and brains. The surviving guard froze at the drenching, and then his upper dental plate shattered from another round.
The area fell silent again, the other three turrets far enough away that they hadn’t been alerted by the sound of the suppressed shots. The moon disappeared behind a cloud, and a score of gunmen in head-to-toe black ran from where they’d disabled the electric fence and made for the wall beneath the neutralized turret.
When they reached the wall, one of the point men hurled a grappling hook secured to a length of knotted rappelling cord over the top, and after confirming that it was secure, scaled the sheer surface in moments and dropped in a crouch on the other side. He swept the area with his night vision monocle and, seeing no movement, jogged to the gate while keeping to the shadows, and slid the two heavy bolts securing the steel barricade open.
The gunmen were inside in a blink, and the sharpshooter who had taken out the two sentries climbed the iron rungs to the tower as his companions took cover below. Once he was in the guard post, he pushed one of the corpses to the side and unslung his rifle to dispatch the other sentries.
Two pops in quick succession neutralized the watchers in the northern tower, and then a warning shout sounded from one of the darkened bunkhouses, followed almost immediately by the staccato bark of an AK-47. Rounds snapped around the sniper’s head and pocked the exterior of the tower, and he ducked down – the game was about to become much harder.
One of the attackers below him ran in a beeline to the bunkhouse and tossed a grenade through a window. The glass shattered with a crash, and then the structure plumped like an overcooked hotdog and flames erupted from within. A militiaman staggered from the doorway, firing on full automatic, and an answering volley cut him down as another blasted away from the interior of the building. A second grenade sailed through the door and detonated, and the shooting from the bunkhouse fell silent, replaced moments later by a barrage from the second building.
Several of the attackers fell to the onslaught, their ceramic body armor failing after multiple hits from high-velocity rounds, and they tumbled backward as the rest took what cover they could and pressed the assault with relentless fire at the new shooters. Up in the tower, the sniper saw his chance as the sentries directed their aim below, and shot both of the southern tower gunmen during the confusion from the blitzkrieg attack.
The fighting continued with more grenade blasts and gunfire until the second bunkhouse was silenced. Only a dozen of the attackers were left standing, but they wasted no time and made for the main building’s entrance. Once inside, the fighters worked their way through the interior until they reached the last room, where they were stopped by a steel door.
~ ~ ~
Darby stood in the near darkness of his lab beside the refrigerator containing the vaccine samples. Awakened by the shooting and explosions, he’d peered out his window to see the main bunkhouse destroyed and a paramilitary force attacking the second with disciplined fire and grenades.
He’d intellectually prepared for this moment, knowing there was a chance that it would come, and had agonized over how he would react if it did. Watching his people slaughtered with cold, calculated precision told him that his worst fears had been realized – the attackers that had somehow breached their impenetrable defenses were anything but the unruly gangs of predators that abounded beyond the walls.
Which meant that somehow Lisle had been followed or a tracking device had been planted in the containers. He cursed as he felt along the workbench and slid open a drawer – he hadn’t thought to check the boxes. The idea that he might have been responsible for the death of those he cared about was like a physical pain, but he shrugged it off at the sound of someone trying the door handle.
He was under no illusion that t
he barrier would hold indefinitely, and he knew what he had to do. Strangely, all his fears that he might be paralyzed into inaction proved to be in vain as he felt in the drawer for the metal orb that would deny his adversaries the two things they’d come for – the vaccine and his know-how. Any doubt was replaced by a deep calm that surprised him more than anything else that night.
Before he could second-guess himself, he pulled the pin and tossed it and the spoon aside, and then walked unhurriedly to the refrigerator and opened the door, holding the grenade over his chest, where it would vaporize the contents of the fridge as well as his body.
He said a quiet prayer for forgiveness at his deed, which he hoped would be interpreted as dying in battle and not suicide, and then the world relinquished its hold on him in a blinding flash just as another detonation blew the lab door off its hinges.
Chapter 29
New Orleans, Louisiana
Snake bit back his fury as Zach relayed in a dispassionate tone the message he’d just received from his headquarters. The compound in St. Louis had been raided by a mercenary group employed by the Illuminati, but the assault had failed and they were no closer to their objective than they had been a month before.
Snake eyed the man like he was insane, and then forced himself to breathe deeply. When he finally spoke, he sounded reasonably calm.
“So no vaccine, and no leads on where the Shangri-La survivors are?”
Zach nodded. “Correct.”
“They didn’t follow the group that dropped off the vaccine?”
“Yes, but when they split up, they had to make a decision who to go after. They opted for the pair that went to Springfield.”
“And?”
“And sometime over the last week, they must have gotten wise that they were being tailed, and they lost them.”
“How?”
“I have no idea. I wasn’t there.”
“So where does that leave us?”
“Waiting for your tracker to turn up a lead in New Mexico.”
“He hasn’t located the vehicles. He’s at a dead end,” Snake said.
“For now. He needs to keep looking.”
“Which is what he’s doing. But it’s a big area. They could have gone anywhere. And the weather’s gone to hell. There was a blizzard a couple of days ago.”
Zach’s brows narrowed. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Yeah. It is,” Snake said, wondering how the man could remain so detached about the failure in St. Louis. “And there’s no way to pick up the woman’s trail?”
“None that I can see, unless she’s spotted again by one of your people.”
“No ideas why she might have separated from the other two?”
“The obvious is that she wanted to go somewhere else.”
Snake couldn’t suppress the sneer that twisted his lip. “Even I figured that out. The question is where, and why?”
“Two questions,” Zach corrected.
Snake bristled but didn’t snap back. He’d gotten accustomed to the Illuminati man’s deadpan delivery and had noticed that he evidenced no emotional responses to anything. So he wasn’t trying to goad Snake with the correction – Zach was clarifying that he’d posed two questions rather than one.
“Why did they send vaccine to St. Louis? I still don’t understand.”
“Assuming that’s what it was.”
“It’s a fair bet.”
“Yes. Well, probably so it could act as a distribution point for the region.”
“Then we’re screwed no matter what. If they’ve got something that advanced, we’re spinning our wheels.” Whitely’s latest report on the Lubbock effort hadn’t been encouraging, and Snake was beginning to suspect that developing a foolproof vaccine was beyond the Crew’s abilities.
“No, until we see what it is that they’ve created, we can’t assume anything.”
Snake frowned. “We have to do something.”
“You’re right. Issue the woman’s photograph to the field again. It’s possible she’ll surface, and if her face is fresh in everyone’s mind, the odds of one of your men recognizing her go way up.”
Snake nodded. “I will, but it’s a long shot. Only a fool would dare set foot back in our territory once she’s escaped.”
Zach studied a spot on the wall, an expression on his face like a thought was flitting just out of reach, and then he turned back to Snake with his usual unreadable stare. “Maybe. But it can’t hurt, and it’s not like you have a lot of options.” He didn’t have to say, “Just do it and shut up.”
Both he and Snake perfectly understood the nature of his advisory role. His masters had bailed Snake out and solidified his leadership position, and the presence of their warship on the horizon served as a constant reminder of the Crew’s ability to reach virtually anywhere, as far as his men were concerned. Reports of insurrection had all but vanished since he’d taken back New Orleans, and that had been handed to him on a platter.
Snake nodded agreement to the Illuminati man. He would find out where Magnus had gotten the photo and put someone on distributing the flyer again. It would take time to circulate, due to the realities of traveling by horse, but it was better than nothing – although not much.
Snake cleared his throat. “Lassiter mentioned getting the refinery in Houston back online so we can manufacture fuel?”
Zach blinked once. “Then he will.”
“Any idea when?”
“He hasn’t confided in me.”
“It would speed up our ability to help you if we could run our trucks. He also mentioned giving us some of his ship stores so we could…”
“I’ll let him know next time I talk to him.”
“Maybe I should?”
Zach’s lip twitched. “I wouldn’t try his patience. Better to let me.”
Snake swallowed hard at the obvious warning. “Whatever you think’s the right way to do it.”
Zach nodded and made for the door, his message delivered. Snake waited until he was gone and shook his head in frustration. He ran the most powerful gang in the country, and now he had a boss he had to answer to? Snake couldn’t understand how someone as volatile as Magnus had put up with it. After only a few weeks, Snake was already considering arranging for Zach to have an accident.
He dismissed the thought. He would do what he had to in order to consolidate his power. He could play along with the best of them and lull Zach into believing that he’d capitulated. In the meantime, he would build his organization and get what he needed out of Zach’s masters – and the refinery would be just the first of their concessions; he’d see to that. Because right now they needed him. Their mercenaries had blown it in St. Louis, which left them nobody to turn to except the Crew.
And they’d soon learn the Crew didn’t work cheap.
Chapter 30
Lucas and Sierra arrived at the banks of the Mississippi River across from Vicksburg, Mississippi, on a cloudy afternoon eleven days after leaving Springfield, the air heavy with humidity as a front pushed north from the Gulf of Mexico. They’d spent the night in a decrepit barn outside of Tallulah, one of the easternmost bastions of the Crew, occupied by two dozen miscreants who preyed on the surrounding countryside for amusement and sustenance.
They’d skirted Little Rock, Arkansas, and stuck to secondary roads and trails from Missouri, trading with isolated locals whenever they could for produce or eggs. Lucas honed his prowess with his fishing tackle when there were no other options. There had been several anxious moments on the trip when they’d had to outfox Crew patrols, but Lucas had found doing so not particularly hard – the cartel thugs were clearly out of their depth in the wilds, their experience as urban parasites failing to translate well outside the city.
Sierra’s anxiety had grown as they’d pushed deeper into Crew territory, although she’d tried to hide it, and Lucas sympathized with her. He couldn’t imagine what it had to be like returning somewhere she’d been a slave, and a part of him suffered with
her every step of the way. Then again, everything had a price, and nobody was forcing her. He just hated to see someone he had feelings for pay so dearly.
The river was at least a half mile across at the narrowest point he could see, swirling past like liquid chocolate. Lucas studied the pair of bridges that spanned the Mississippi from Louisiana to Vicksburg through the binoculars and shook his head as he lowered the glasses.
“They’ve got a roadblock in place,” he said. “Bunch of Crew. So much for crossing here.”
“But there aren’t any other bridges for three days’ ride in either direction. And the compound my cousin and Tim were at is only a few miles south of the Vicksburg airport, Lucas. We have to figure a way across. Maybe we can distract them or something? Blow something up and sneak across while they’re dealing with it?”
“Not sure that would work. I mean, there isn’t a lot out here, and the chances that everyone deserts their post to check on what happened are slim and none.” He hesitated. “I thought you said the compound was attacked by a rival gang in a territorial fight.”
“That’s right.”
“But Mississippi isn’t Crew territory?”
“Not anymore. Since the new virus, they pulled back to this side of the river and let the other bunch have it – assuming there’s anything left of them now.” Sierra’s lip twitched. “We have to get across somehow.”
“I know, Sierra. Come on. Let’s see what’s south of here. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“How?”
“If I knew that, we wouldn’t need luck.”
They turned inland until they were out of sight of the bridge and then rode toward the water along a dilapidated secondary road. Mile after mile of marsh stretched before them, but the river was far too wide to cross, even with a strong swimmer like Tango beneath him, and the current was likely treacherous. He didn’t know much about the Mississippi but figured that amount of water running out to sea had to have some momentum behind it, and he didn’t want to risk their lives any more than they already had.
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