Plague

by Matt James

  “Everyone back!” Logan shouted, limping towards the Rhino. He all but collapsed on the right quarter panel of the truck, leaning on it for support.

  He’s exhausted, CJ thought, watching him.

  The surviving men adhered to the more experienced man, not even waiting for their commander’s order. Logan’s leadership and skill were obvious to the newcomers.

  Five of the twelve Americans remained. They huddled around the Rhino, awaiting Logan’s next order, but he didn’t have to give it. Instead, Fitz fired another grenade from his XM25. It detonated on the bull’s skull, blowing the weakened bone apart.

  Irwin’s once beautiful and majestic form fell still, as silent as the night. Only the soft breeze and heavy breathing of the men could be heard now.

  “Logan Reed?” asked one of the men, wasting no time. He was holding his arm and was missing his weapon, but he carried himself like he was used to being in charge.

  Must be the leader of the Americans? CJ thought as she slid out of the Rhino’s driver’s seat.

  Jan appeared around the rear of the truck and joined her, watching the man approach her brother.

  Logan straightened and turned to meet the American commander. He stopped a foot away, staring into Logan’s hardened, unintimidatable face. They each just stood there, burning holes into one another, until the other man softened a pinch. He then stepped back and extended his hand.

  “The name is Navarro.” Logan accepted the American’s hand. “But—” he continued, cutting off Logan’s chance at introducing himself. “You can call me, Zeus.”

  Logan lifted an eyebrow. “Zeus?”

  “Yep,” the American said. “King of Olympus.”

  Logan nodded. “Well, Zeus. My name is Logan Reed…but you can call me…” he smiled, “Boss.”

  The American’s face fell. “Boss? Do you know who I am?”

  “I do,” Logan said, getting a puzzled look out of everyone. “You’re Delta—the best.” Zeus stood taller, prouder. “But,” Logan added, “you and your boys are way out of your league.”

  Logan then stepped forward, getting back into the man’s face, sneering. Logan—not his majesty Zeus—was the master of intimidation. He lived and breathed self-assurance, even though he would sometimes admit the other. “You and what’s left of your team work for me now.” He stepped back again, beaming confidence. “Welcome to the SDF.”

  * * *

  “We don’t work for anyone,” Zeus said, “unless your name is Uncle Sam and you wear a top hat.”

  They sat in the Observation Deck of the Bullpen, gathered around Logan’s desk. The leader, Zeus, was leaning on the table top staring down at the relaxed and very comfortable SDF captain.

  Logan, feet propped on the edge of his desk, returned the glare but added an amused look on his face. That didn’t sit well with Zeus.

  The Delta operator clenched his fists tighter as he leaned on them, causing his knuckles to audibly pop. It got a reaction…but not from Logan.

  “Easy, mate,” Fitz said from Logan’s right. “You wouldn’t want to go and do something stupid, now would you?”

  Zeus looked over to Fitz. He was casually sitting on one of the workbenches, leaning back against a shelf full of shotguns. Then, he looked down to the Aussie’s hands. Fitz had a Mossberg casually leveled at the soldier, finger hovering over the trigger. No one noticed he had even drawn it.

  “You disrespect him,” Fitz said, burning holes in the man, “then you disrespect me.”

  “And me,” Jan said from behind Logan. He had no weapon but just stood like a giant behind his seated friend, arms crossed. “You need to hear what’s been happening before you say something you’ll regret.”

  “Plus,” Fitz added, “I thought you Yanks got along just fine with the SAS in the past? It’s not like we Aussie’s are warmongers or anything.”

  Zeus’ eyes went wide for just second. “SAS?”

  “Yep,” Logan said, answering for Fitz. “Both of us served for a long time. Fitzy and I were on the same assault team for years.”

  “Okay, okay. Enough with the ego trips and pissing contests,” CJ said from the corner of the room, stepping forward as she spoke.

  All eyes were on her as the only woman in the room. She stepped in between Logan and Jan, placing both her hands on her brother’s shoulders, feeling his tense muscles relax as she squeezed. Being between the two men gave her all the assurance in the world at the moment.

  Zeus was about to open his mouth again, but CJ started first. “What do you know about Josef Mengele?”

  This caught the American off guard. He stuttered a reply, but again CJ cut him off. “Well, we met his corpse a few hours ago and have been fighting to survive ever since. If you give me a moment to indulge you on the finer details, you’d understand why my little brother here is so adamant about doing things his way.”

  Ugh. Logan shook his head. Thanks, Cass…

  “Fine,” Zeus said reluctantly, stepping back. He then crossed his own arms and waited for CJ to get the lecture underway. “Go ahead.”

  Logan smiled inwardly.

  Hook, line…

  He glanced up to the Delta man who was staring intently at CJ while she started her detailed explanation of what had transpired in the Serengeti so far. Her account sounded more like something from pure fiction than from real life.

  …and sinker.

  46

  Zeus sat back, his bravado defused. He had nothing to say except, “What do you need from us?” He looked to Logan for an answer, committing him and his team to the cause without having to say as much. Logan wouldn’t push it either. These men were proud warriors. Beating them into submission would only compromise their toughened exterior and their allegiance. He would need their full devotion to the SDF in order to survive the night.

  And even then, it’s still a crapshoot.

  Logan sat forward, all his animosity towards the team leader gone. “I need you and your men to trust us and fall in line. I don’t want any rogue bullshit. You see something, you call it in. We have…experience…in this sort of thing.”

  “Experience?” one of the Delta men asked. “What kind?

  “More than you, mate,” Fitz answered biting one of his nails. He pulled the sliver loose, spitting it on the floor. “Believe me when I tell you, that no one on this planet has spent more time killing these things than us. And you can take that to the bank—or whatever the bloody hell you Yanks say.”

  The other man backed down with a glance from Zeus who was all in.

  “So,” he said, turning to Fitz. “It’s true then… Zombies?”

  Fitz just chuckled. “Not exactly. They’re not really dead, but they aren’t alive anymore either. It’s a sci-fi purgatory type of state. They fight until you put a bullet in their head.”

  “The Nach,” Logan added, “are creatures that will stop at nothing to kill you. Then, if you aren’t ripped apart, you’ll become one.”

  “Like your friends?” asked another of Zeus’ men.

  Logan just silently nodded.

  “And yours,” he said, reminding the men of the Delta soldier that had turned. The one Logan had shot.

  “We saw them with our own eyes,” Jan said, speaking up for the first time since his threat. “Saami and Pandu were family. Even more to some.” He motioned to Logan and CJ. “The Reeds knew them for almost a decade. I’ve only known them for half as long,” he then looked over to Mo, “and Mo over here for… How long?”

  Mo perked up, but fell silent again, thinking of his deceased friends. “Fifteen years,” he said in a whisper. He then grinned at a memory—a happy one from his expression.

  “We’ve lost three men in a few hours’ span,” Logan said, glumly.

  “We lost seven in ten minutes!” Zeus shouted. It wasn’t directed at Logan, though. It was more of an outburst at the circumstances than at one person. Logan understood what it felt like to become unhinged out in the field. These guys were the best at
what they did—like he was. They were used to doing things their way or no way, but the proverbial monkey wrench can sometimes come out of nowhere and make things wonky.

  Like an infected elephant as big as a tank.

  “Then you fully understand what kind of situation we are in?” Logan asked, getting back on task.

  “Of course,” Zeus replied, some of his tenacity returning. Logan also knew what that was like. Soldiers were taught and trained to heal quickly while out in the field—both physically and psychologically. They always need to be level-headed and thinking clearly. People dying—even teammates—was, unfortunately, a hazard that came with the job.

  It doesn’t always work, though, he thought to himself. He was still a train wreck after the Iraqi incident, but he wasn’t a complete disaster anymore. Time truly heals some wounds, but not all of them.

  Logan stood. “We need you and your men to defend this compound at all costs, but most of all we need reinforcements ASAP. We need as many feet on the ground as you can muster. Stopping the spread of the virus is our number one priority. Use whatever force necessary. If we fail, this turns global.”

  The finality of Logan’s statement took everyone off guard. There was no ‘could’ in his orders. There was only what would happen if they failed. He meant it too. He needed them to see the big picture. The plague would spread further through Africa, heading south to more densely populated areas, infecting millions—hundreds of millions even.

  Zeus stood, straightening. The steel that soldiers like this were known for was quickly returning to the man. “I’ll make the call, but there’s no guarantee that we can have people here any quicker than us. We volunteered to come out here because we were told the SDF was run by former military personnel. The brass back at Manda Bay were floored you hit the panic button, to begin with. They said you guys never called for help unless Satan himself showed up on your doorstep.”

  “You may not be too far off,” Fitz said, sliding off the table, grabbing his XM25. “What we are dealing with would make Lucifer himself wet the bed.”

  Logan laughed, not being able to hold it back. He was getting so loopy that Fitz’s jokes were actually sounding funny now.

  Zeus shook his head, trying not to smile at Fitz. He turned and spoke in whispers, no doubt talking to the powers that be back in Kenya.

  “Reed,” one of the men said, stepping forward. “What do you need us to do?”

  He regarded the man. He was the same height as Logan but outweighed him by twenty pounds or so. Probably a wrestler in school.

  “What’s your name?” Logan asked.

  “They call me Ares,” the Delta operator replied, proudly smiling.

  “The god of war?” Logan asked.

  “The same,” he said with a grin. “I make things quickly disappear.”

  Logan nodded, understanding. “Explosives then.”

  Now it was the other man’s turn to nod.

  “Herr Gruber?” Logan asked in his best German accent, calling over Jan.

  He stomped over, stopping next to Logan. “Ares, this is, Jan Gruber. Once upon a time, Jan here was in the same line of work as you. Although, we’ve yet to need that exact expertise out here.”

  Surprisingly, Ares held out his hand to Jan. It was a show of respect to the senior demolitions expert. “You wouldn’t happen to be the German called, Zerstorer?”

  Jan’s eyes flickered ever so slightly, recognizing the name. Logan didn’t know what it meant, but Ares had clearly heard of Jan before.

  “Ja,” Jan said, acknowledging the name. “I was once called, Zerstorer, but now I am just Jan Gruber of the SDF. I left that life behind when I retired.”

  Ares didn’t continue questioning the larger man. It was pretty obvious that Jan didn’t want to talk about his past any longer.

  “Ares,” Zeus said, calling over the man.

  As the soldier walked away, Logan leaned into Jan and asked, “Zerstorer?”

  Jan breathed in deeply but answered. His voice was barely audible, but he simply said, “It means…” he met Logan’s eyes. “It means, Destroyer.”

  47

  While Logan and Zeus discussed what was next on the agenda, Fitz, Kel, Mo, and Ares—the Delta demolitions expert—walked the inner perimeter of the Bullpen’s fencing. The operator wanted to check the surrounding defenses and see if he couldn’t spice them up a little.

  “This is your standard C4 plastic explosive and blasting cap set up,” Ares explained, “and this,” he held up a small black device, “is a remote trigger. All you have to do is push a button and, boom, see you in the afterlife.”

  Fitz and Mo watched as the man wadded up what looked like a small amount of clay. He then knelt down next to one of the gate’s support posts, unsheathing his knife. Next, Ares dug a shallow hole into the dirt just off the concrete slab. It was just deep enough for him to bury most of the golf ball sized chunk. He moved on to the other post and did the same.

  Ares forcibly shoved the plastique into the space, jamming it deeper with his thumb. Mo flinched, but Fitz knew it was actually pretty safe stuff. You could even shoot it and nothing would happen. It needed an electric shock to detonate.

  “Why blow the gate?” Kel asked.

  “What if you had one of those bastards follow you in here again like the leopard did?” Ares answered, lightly covering it with dirt. The Delta man wouldn’t have believed it until he saw the body. He had said that it was, “the biggest damn cat he’d ever seen.”

  Kel’s eyes furrowed in anger, but Mo placed a hand on his shoulder calming the man. Dada’s death was still ripe in Kel’s mind and he desperately wanted his revenge. Call it an archaic way of thinking if you want, but he was taught to stand up for something you believed in, or for those you believed in. He loved Dada like a brother and he had been wronged by his death.

  “Good point,” Kel replied. He stuck out his hand. “Why don’t you give me the remote seeing that I’ll be the one most likely staying here and keeping watch. It’s not going to do you any good out in the field.”

  It would have generally been a good idea and no one would have said anything to the contrary, but Fitz knew of the mental state Kel was in. They had all watched Dada get bitten in half by the giant black specter. It was burned into everyone’s memory for the rest of their lives.

  “Kel,” Fitz said. “I’m not sure if you’re in the right—”

  “I’m not suicidal, Gray,” Kel said, actually offended that the Aussie didn’t trust him. “I can’t kill them if I kill myself.”

  Fitz nodded, shrugging, giving Ares the okay. The American then handed the remote to Kel and stood.

  “Fine, but don’t make me regret this,” Fitz said sternly. He was in command of the men when Logan was busy after all, plus, Logan would have done the same. “I want the safety cover on at all times. This is a last-ditch defense only. If we blow the gates at the wrong time, we will be giving the Nach a free ticket into the Pen.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kel said with a mock salute. “I shall only blow it the next time you walk through.”

  That got a grin out of Fitz.

  “Only if my eyes are glowing red and I have a raging appetite for man meat—”

  “Okay, then,” Ares said, interrupting the jibber-jabber. He looked around, spotting his next objective. He stopped at the sight of the two massive sentry towers. It would be a perfect trap if he could set them to fall into each other.

  “Those are next,” he said, pointing to the structures.

  “Gray?”

  Fitz keyed his earbud. “Yeah, boss?”

  “When you’re finished trying to destroy my property,” Logan replied, “could you guys come back upstairs? We may have our next move.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Fitz asked, looking back up to the windows above. “Like what?”

  “Just…come upstairs.”

  Fitz laughed, knowing how his friend thought. This wasn’t the first time he’d sounded like this when going over a laugha
bly crazy plan. “That bad, huh?”

  He could hear Logan laugh on the other end. “Pretty much.”

  Fitz shook his head. “Just like old times.”

  “Yep,” Logan agreed, “just like old times.”

  “Give us,” Fitz looked at his watch, “another ten minutes or so and we’ll be up.”

  “Ten it is. Out.”

  “Gray?”

  Fitz looked at Mo and shrugged. “No idea, mate, but I’d go check on Kipanga and gas her up.” He looked out to the plains around the compound. “Logan has a plan and I’m pretty sure none of us are going to like it.” He then looked over at the rotting remains of the gigantic leopard still sitting half inside the inner fencing.

  Even with the bright spotlights on around the Bullpen, the darkness of the night was foreboding. It had never bothered Fitz until now. It was pretty damn obvious why, though.

  What made it even more unnerving, was that the illumination stopped at the fencing. It didn’t reach far enough to light the plains around it. No one had their night-vision tech with them on account of the lights, and it made Fitz feel insecure about their safety. There could be a horde of them just out of sight and they wouldn’t even know. Not until someone upstairs warned them that is. They still had most of their sensors and cameras active around the compound, but being out here in the night was a different feeling altogether.

  He thought back to the conversation he just had with Mo, recalling what he and Mo would think of it.

  “Not one bit,” he said to himself, turning his attention back to Ares.

  Seeing the man prep this place for its potential demolition gave Fitz a horrible premonition of things to come. He was getting a sickening feeling that this would be the last night the SDF would call this place home.

  Those of us who survive that is…

  * * *

  Climbing out through the metal hatch, Wustenfuchs now stood on the precipice of the kopje, looking out over his army. There was easily a thousand of them. All were ready. All were hungry. He grinned again, he himself prepared for what was to come. Like Shetani, he could sense the presence of something foreign. It smelled wretched, but at the same time, it intrigued him. The freshness of the scent was intoxicating. It reminded him of nothing he saw before him.