Recovery: V Plague Book 8

by Dirk Patton

  She knew that if it had charged the odds of her stopping it with the pistol were slim at best. Maybe John, who could place his shots where he wanted them, but she’d be lucky to even strike the target let alone find a vital area that would bring the big wolf down before it tore her open.

  Giving it several minutes she checked all around to make sure it wasn’t sneaking up behind her, frequently turning her head to look at the exposed ridge. She didn’t think for a moment that it had gone away. It had been hurt by the flare and was being cautious but that probably also made it even more dangerous. She didn’t think it would approach close enough again for her to take a chance on trying a shot unless it was attacking.

  The snow was picking up, wind driving it almost horizontally, and once she convinced herself that an attack wasn’t imminent she turned her attention back to Bill. Even though they were partially sheltered underneath the trees, snow was already piling up on top of him. They needed to move. Needed to get to the lake and get a fire going before they both froze to death.

  But Bill was out from the morphine and the lake was at least a mile away at the bottom of a very long slope. She could start a fire where they were, but they both needed water and with the wolf stalking them there was no way she could leave an unconscious man while she went to the lake.

  And even if she could safely leave him she wasn’t sure how easy it would be to find him again. Rachel was a city girl and before the attacks had hardly spent any time away from civilization. Leaving the injured pilot behind wasn’t an option. But how to get him down the slope?

  Thinking, Rachel fluffed the snow out of her thick hair and put it into a tight braid, hoping to keep it as dry as possible. She was shivering from the cold and knew that if she got wet it would accelerate the onset of hypothermia. Looking around in frustration her eyes stopped when she saw the remnants of Bill’s parachute lying on the ground.

  Hers was still on her back and she quickly shrugged out of it and set it down in front of her. Pulling the tough nylon canopy free she spread it out on the rough ground, making sure the lines that secured it to the harness weren’t tangled. Moving on her knees she supported Bill’s broken leg as much as possible and rolled him over onto the edge of the canopy.

  Rachel rolled him three more times until he was on his back in roughly the middle of the expanse of white fabric. Standing, she tossed the flare gun onto the canopy with Bill and looked around for the wolf, but it was snowing heavier and she couldn’t see more than thirty yards. The crest above her, where she’d last seen the animal, was now only faintly visible.

  Unzipping a pocket on her flight suit she shoved his pistol in then lifted and shrugged into the empty parachute pack. She adjusted the straps and walked down the slope until the lines connecting her to the canopy Bill rested on went taut. Taking a breath she pulled, feeling the smooth nylon begin to slide over the carpet of pine needles.

  She had to tilt her body forward to keep moving with the pilot’s weight holding her back. At first it had felt so unnatural to lean downhill that she’d hardly made any progress, but as she grew more comfortable that she wouldn’t fall with the drag of the man’s body resisting she was able to start covering some ground.

  Despite the assist from gravity the going was slow and arduous. Frequently the canopy or one of its lines would snag on a tree root or rock and she’d have to stop and move to where it was hung up and work the material free.

  The slope was steep in places, nearly flat in others. Where it was steep she had the problem of preventing Bill’s body from building too much momentum and sliding uncontrollably. Where it was almost flat it took every ounce of her waning strength and determination to keep making forward progress.

  After an hour she stopped on one of the flatter areas, looking ahead through the trees. The blue lake was barely visible, not looking that much closer than it had when she’d first started walking. Turning to look up the slope she froze when a ghostly figure crossed her vision. The wolf was back.

  Rachel grabbed for the pistol but it was snagged on the lining of her pocket. Using two hands she got it loose, glad she hadn’t needed to bring it out in an instant. As she’d struggled with freeing the weapon she’d tracked the wolf with her eyes. It was moving across her track, pausing to look at her before disappearing into the trees and snow.

  Why was it holding back? She was vulnerable as she dragged the unconscious pilot down the hill. It could come up behind her, leap and take her to the ground before she even knew it was there. Had she frightened it enough with the flare gun that it was trying to work up the courage to strike?

  She didn’t think so. She suspected it was hurting from the injuries the flare had caused and was just watching and waiting for what it felt was the right moment. Maybe it had encountered man before and at least had respect, if not fear, for humans. Or maybe it was just behaving like a wolf.

  Keeping the weapon in her hand, Rachel turned and resumed pulling the makeshift litter. It was snowing harder but as she’d progressed deeper into the valley the wind had eased. Whether from a slackening of the storm or because of the protection of the terrain, she couldn’t tell.

  She struggled on for another half hour without seeing the wolf again, frequently looking over each shoulder. The lake was steadily growing larger in her limited field of view through the trees to her front, but her pace was so slow because of the load she was pulling it seemed to be taking forever.

  Moving down the steepest slope she had encountered so far, Rachel’s foot slipped on a snow-covered rock. She tried to recover but couldn’t stop the momentum of Bill’s inert form. Falling to the ground she tumbled down the slope, getting tangled in the parachute lines as it rolled with her.

  Finally coming to a stop at the bottom of the slope she lay unmoving for a moment, evaluating her body for injuries. Other than a few bruises and a sore hip, she was OK. Starting to unwrap the lines that were constricting her legs, Rachel’s head snapped around when she heard a deep growl.

  The wolf was less than ten yards away, slightly upslope, standing next to a tree. Lips curled back to expose yellowed fangs it lowered its head and took a small step forward. Rachel froze for a moment then grabbed for the pistol that had fallen into the snow when she’d tumbled. It wasn’t far, but when her body started to shift as she stretched out to reach it the parachute lines brought her up short.

  Sparing a glance at the wolf she kicked and lunged, trying to gain the extra inches she needed as it took another, faster step in preparation to leap. Scooping up the pistol Rachel rolled and pulled the trigger as the muzzle came up in the general direction of the animal.

  The shot was loud in the snow-quieted woods and still without aiming Rachel pulled the trigger a second time. She’d paid attention to one of John’s lessons. If you can’t get on target sometimes it’s best to put some rounds downrange anyway. You might get lucky and get a hit or scare off your attacker.

  She knew she’d never scare off an infected but when the second round struck a tree only inches from the wolf’s head it turned and streaked away, flowing over the ground without any apparent effort. Not wasting the precious time she’d just earned, Rachel fought her way free of the tangle and with renewed energy born of fear resumed her journey down the slope.

  Exhausted and damp with sweat, she came to a stop on a flat area of the forest floor an hour later. The lake was five feet in front of her, the ground sloping so gently into the water that there wasn’t a bank and hardly even a discernible shoreline. Tall trees grew right to the water’s edge and sparse grass stuck up through the bed of pine needles she was standing on.

  After a slow and thorough scan for the wolf she released the parachute pack and let it drop to the ground behind her. Moving forward and falling to her knees she leaned out over the clear lake. Scooping with her hands she lifted water to her mouth, concerned that her fingers were so cold they didn’t even register contact with the frigid water.

  Between every drink Rachel checked over each s
houlder, but as far as she could tell the wolf had been scared away by the gunshots. At least that’s what she told herself to keep from panicking. She knew that in reality it was very likely still close, watching and waiting for an opportunity. And as the clouds grew thicker and the snow came down harder she knew it was going to be a very dark night that would favor the predator.

  24

  We were going so fast I blasted through a tiny town before I even realized it was there. I had seen a small stand of trees on the horizon, approaching very fast, and hadn’t realized they marked the edge of a few small buildings. The Dodge roared through at such a high rate of speed I wasn’t able to tell what any of them were.

  I had zeroed out the trip odometer when Katie told me we were 104 miles from the turn on US 183 and I gave the instrument a quick glance. 102 miles. Less than two to go, and at our current rate we would cover that in less than a minute. I hit the button to cancel the cruise control, the speedometer quickly swinging down until I put my foot on the gas to hold us at 80.

  “Did that town we just went through have gas?” The extreme speed we were maintaining was consuming fuel at a ferocious rate.

  “I don’t know. We went through too fast,” Katie answered, leaning sideways to see the gauges. “Wow! We’ve really used half a tank already?”

  “Yep. First, give me the distance to our next turn once we’re on 183, then call Jessica so we can have her find us a gas station within the next hundred miles.”

  Katie grabbed the sat phone and started scrolling through, checking the directions that had been texted to it. Ahead I could see the intersection and the crashed vehicles I had been warned about. Lightly tapping the brakes I steadily brought our speed down, slowing more when I realized I’d have to drive onto the dirt shoulder to get around the wreck.

  “187 miles due north to I-70,” Katie said, pressing and holding the speed dial button on the phone. I reset the odometer as the phone began ringing.

  “I’m watching you turn north, sir.” Jessica answered as I maneuvered around the crash. “I’ve scanned ahead and you’ve got wreckage at 52 miles and again at 131.”

  I pressed the accelerator to the floor and the Charger leapt ahead with a roar of exhaust.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’m going to need fuel within the next hundred miles, then probably about every two hundred after that if you can start working on spotting gas stations for me.”

  “No problem, sir. Stand by and I’ll find your first one.”

  We were back up to 140, but the new highway wasn’t as smooth as the last and I had to pay more attention and make almost constant corrections to the steering wheel to keep us in a straight line.

  “At the site of the first wreck you come to, sir. There’s a small, independent gas station less than a quarter of a mile farther down the road. If you call me while you’re refueling I’ll have the next one spotted for you.”

  “Thank you, Jessica. How are the targets doing?” I asked, referring to Rachel and the pilot.

  “Weather’s getting really bad at their location. I’ve lost them on thermal for the moment due to the thickness of the cloud cover. They were moving before I couldn’t track them any longer and I think they were headed for a lake. That’s the only thing in their direction of travel that makes sense. They actually moved deeper into the mountains.” She said.

  “OK, thanks. Call me if anything changes.”

  “Will do, sir.” There was a click and a beep and she was gone.

  “How cold do you think it is there?” Katie asked.

  “Too cold to not be wearing anything other than a flight suit. Hopefully that pilot paid attention when he went through survival training.” I pressed harder on the accelerator but we were already going as fast as the on-board computer would allow.

  “So what happens when we find them?” Katie asked, scratching Dog’s head.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What happens? What do we do? Where do we go?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. Just been focusing on getting there before the weather, or something else, kills them.”

  “What are you going to do about Rachel?” Katie asked. “That woman is in love with you if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “I noticed,” I said. “And I don’t have a good answer for you. I haven’t exactly had the luxury of time to dwell on the subject.”

  “Well, you’d better give it some thought. Her heart is already broken. Whatever you say to her just be sure you aren’t being an unsympathetic jerk.”

  I gave Katie a quick glance.

  “What?” She asked.

  “Just not the reaction I expected from you. That’s all,” I said.

  “What did you expect?”

  “I’m not really sure,” I answered. “Just not compassion for the “other woman”.”

  “You really don’t get women do you?” She asked, shaking her head. “This isn’t like she was someone who tried to take you away from me. The world ended. No, it didn’t just end, it crashed down around her ears and you were her knight in shining armor. You saved her life and have been keeping her alive for quite a while now. Of course she fell in love with you, and you developed feelings for her.

  “I don’t blame her one bit. And I hope you understand I don’t blame you. It hurts, knowing that you have feelings for her, but I’m not some silly little high school girl that’s going to go off the deep end about it. If I put myself in her shoes I understand how fragile her emotions must be when it comes to you. All I’m saying is that I don’t want to see her get hurt any more than she’s already been.”

  I wanted to reach across and take Katie’s hand, but our speed on the rough road dictated that I keep both of them on the wheel. All these years of marriage and she could still surprise me.

  “I love you,” I said softly, genuinely touched by what she’d just said.

  “And I love you,” she answered, reaching out and placing her hand on my shoulder. “I know you’ll handle this as well as anyone could.”

  “Now you’re full of shit,” I said, laughing. “When have you known me to handle anything diplomatically?”

  “Just be honest with her. But for God’s sake think about what you’re going to say before you say it. Some times you’re way too blunt with your honesty.”

  We fell silent after that, quickly covering the distance to the next wreck. The terrain was so flat I could see it well before we reached it. Backing off the throttle I let the car’s speed bleed off until we were below a hundred, then used the brakes to slow us to no more than thirty. After the blistering pace thirty miles an hour felt slow enough that it seemed I could open the door, step out and walk.

  Steering around the abandoned crash I spotted the first infected we’d encountered since leaving the police station. Three males stumbled down the middle of the road, heading in our direction. I imagined the Dodge was making a hell of a racket when I pushed it up to its top speed and they had probably heard us coming from a long way off.

  “There,” Katie said, pointing at a small, one-pump gas station a short distance down the road.

  I avoided the infected and accelerated slightly so we’d get to our stop with plenty of time to spare before they arrived.

  “I’m going to get the fueling started. I’ll be under the hood connecting the pump to the battery so you and Dog keep a sharp eye out.” I said as I turned into the station and stopped next to a large plate that covered the port for the underground storage tank.

  “As long as I get a potty break while we’re stopped,” Katie said, popping her door open.

  She stepped out and immediately pulled the back door open to let Dog join her. I would have preferred to leave the Charger running and not take the slight risk that the car wouldn’t start when we were ready to go, but running flat out is truly tortuous on an engine. The oil needed to be checked. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find it low after covering 150 miles in just over an hour.

>   I released the hood and trunk, and as I grabbed the tools to open the storage tank Katie began firing her suppressed M4. It took her several shots to put all three of the males down but I wasn’t about to criticize her marksmanship.

  Opening the tank was simple, taking less than thirty seconds. Running back to the open trunk I pulled out the larger hose and fed several feet of it into the hole in the pavement. Connecting it to the pump I then attached a smaller hose, which was shoved into the Dodge’s fuel filler neck.

  Power cable for the pump in hand, I leaned under the hood and yanked the black plastic cover off the battery’s negative terminal. The pump had two wires, red and black, bundled together with each one ending in a large metal clamp that looked like the ones on the ends of jumper cables. I attached the negative first then clipped the red one into place.

  The pump vibrated noisily as the impeller began spinning without any resistance. It didn’t take it long to prime and start sucking fuel, the two hoses jumping and twitching like snakes as the gasoline flowed. Finding the end of the oil dipstick I pulled it out and not having a towel, wiped it clean on my pants leg. I stuck it back in, waited half a second, pulled it out again and peered at the thin strip of spring steel.

  The level was still good and the oil didn’t show any sign of burning or breaking down. While I was doing this Katie fired two more shots and I looked up to see another male that had wandered around the corner of the gas station drop dead to the ground. Trusting her, I walked around the car checking each of the tires to make sure they were holding up. I didn’t even want to contemplate having a blowout at 140 miles per hour.

  It took less than three minutes to fill the Dodge, fuel gushing out of the filler neck the only warning that the tank was at capacity. I was momentarily surprised, accustomed to it taking a long time to fill up any vehicle at a gas station, but the pump I was using was powerful and moved a lot of gas very quickly. Removing the clips from the battery it spun down and I ran around to pull the hose out of the car’s tank before gravity began siphoning out what I’d just put in.