by Dirk Patton
I held up the keys for the Dodge. Katie looked at me for a long time before taking the keys and putting them in her pocket. Throwing her arms around my neck she pressed herself against me and kissed me. Hard.
“You do not get yourself caught,” she said in a hard voice when the kiss ended. “I don’t want to be without you ever again. Rain fire on these fuckers. Do whatever you have to do, but come back to me!”
I pulled her back against me, both of us looking up at the ceiling as the whole building vibrated from two helicopters passing low overhead.
31
Lucas had been shocked to hear from John. The Australian media had been consistently reporting that other than Russia, Hawaii, Australia and a few isolated islands scattered across the south Pacific the world had been reduced to a wasteland, inhabited only by the infected.
He knew that wasn’t entirely accurate from speaking with mates who were still on active duty with the Regiment. A lot of the US Navy was still able to fight, as were small pockets of the military still within the continental United States. He just had no idea that John Chase was one of those still alive and fighting, but when he thought about it he wasn’t terribly surprised. The man he’d known was war incarnate when he wanted to be.
There had been mass panic and rioting in Australia as people had learned of what was happening in the world. Unfortunately there had been many reported cases of people shooting and killing friends, neighbors and even family members over something as simple as a sneeze. Everyone was terrified the infection would reach their geographically protected home.
The Americans still alive in Hawaii had delivered a vaccine and the government had pulled out all the stops to immediately start mass production. The PM went on television and announced that there would be mandatory vaccinations of the entire population.
People began lining up at hospitals, medical offices and health centers before the vaccine was even available. But there were some that refused, either on religious grounds or mistrust of the government and fear over what was actually in the inoculation. Anyone who refused was rounded up and quarantined in several hastily erected camps around the continent. All they had to do to leave was accept the vaccination.
Australia was surviving. Rationing was the word of the day, and while the citizens were grumbling they well understood the necessity. Fuel had become precious as pre-attack the country had imported almost ninety percent of the oil it consumed.
Living far from civilization, Lucas felt fortunate he had installed large underground fuel tanks several years ago so he would always have a good supply on hand for his vehicles and small plane. He had received a delivery of fuel that had topped them off a week before the attacks on America.
He had immediately placed a call as soon as he finished speaking with his old friend. Dialing the number from memory he hadn’t been surprised when the duty officer at the SAS barracks in Swanbourne picked up on the first ring. The man didn’t know Lucas personally but he knew of him and quickly transferred the call to Lucas’ former commanding officer. The call woke Captain Reginald White, and he came instantly alert as Lucas filled him in.
“I know of it,” he said, referring to the CIA listening post that had been established with the cooperation of the Australian government. “It’s in Moonyoonka.”
“Where the bloody hell is that, sir?”
“A few kilometers east of Geraldton. North of here, up the coast.”
“I know Geraldton, sir. I’m on my way there, then. I wanted you to know.” Lucas said.
“If you don’t mind, Staff Sergeant, the lads and I could use a little trip to the country. Perhaps we shall meet you at the Geraldton airport. When do you think you might be arriving?” White had spent a lot of time with the British and had picked up on their manner of speaking.
“Six to seven hours, sir. Depending on the winds.”
“Very good. Until then,” he said and disconnected the call.
Lucas closed his phone and trotted into the large house, heading for the basement.
“What are you on about?” His wife, Ziggi, asked, following him down the stairs. “And who’s calling you in the middle of the bloody night?”
As he changed clothes and packed a duffel with weapons and ammunition, Lucas explained to her what was going on. She knew who John Chase was, resisting the name for her new son until Lucas had explained why he wanted it.
“He’s still alive? That’s bloody amazing!” She said, shaking her head.
She cocked an ear when Little John began wailing again. Stepping forward she grabbed her husband in a tight embrace and kissed him before turning and heading for the stairs.
“Just be sure you get your arse home in one piece,” she said then was gone in a swirl of satin nightclothes.
Lucas smiled briefly then got his war face on and made a quick check of the gear he had packed. Satisfied he was ready, he tromped up the stairs with the heavy duffel and stopped in the kitchen. He brewed a strong cup of coffee in a few minutes, wolfing down a peanut butter sandwich while the machine hissed and burbled.
Coffee in an insulated travel mug, he stepped out the back door, made sure it was locked and dumped his bag on the luggage rack of a battered ATV. It started easily enough and he bounced across a couple of acres of his land to a large barn where he stored a twin-engine plane. A dirt runway was carved out of the red Aussie dirt, a white windsock on a tall pole a few yards from the barn. He didn’t need to check to know there was no wind to worry about for takeoff.
Wheeling the barn doors open he tossed the bag in a small luggage compartment and reached into the cockpit to put his mug into a cup holder. A quick walk around of the aircraft and he was ready to go.
Starting the engines he let them idle for a minute, keeping a sharp eye on the instruments that monitored their health. It was a warm night and they quickly came up to operating temperature. Advancing the throttles he rolled the plane out of the barn, flipping on the brilliant landing lights mounted in the leading edges of the wings.
Lining up on the runway he stepped on the brakes and concentrated on the raw dirt ahead of him. He loved to fly and had no fear of planes, but a mate of his had been landing at night a few months ago in the bush of Northern Australia. A large Kangaroo had hopped onto the dirt runway just as the plane’s tires touched the ground. Neither the Roo nor his mate had survived.
Satisfied there was no wildlife in the way he shoved the throttles to the firewall and bounced down the rough track. The plane was powerful and soon he was pulling back on the stick, quickly gaining altitude. Australia is way too large and empty for bush pilots to need to worry about filing a flight plan. He wouldn’t bother contacting an air controller until he was within an hour of Geraldton.
32
Katie and Dog were settled and as long as they remained quiet I thought they’d be safe, even from a stray bullet. The boxes were heavy, filled with stacks of tightly folded denim jeans. I was hopeful that if things went really sideways the multiple layers of tough fabric would stop a round.
The HINDs had roared overhead at high speed and I was confident that my ruse had worked. They had lost access to the satellite imagery and were continuing on in the last direction they had seen me traveling. But how long before they realized they were pursuing nothing and came back to Dodge City? It wasn’t much of a stretch to think they would figure it out.
Moving through the store I pushed out into the bright afternoon. A run down two-story office building was across the street from the department store and that’s where I’d already decided to wait for them. If necessary I could draw them away from Katie’s hiding place. If they caught me, well I’d lie my ass off and tell them she was dead, killed by an infected.
Maybe they’d believe me, maybe not. But soldiers are the same everywhere. None of us like to search buildings for an enemy in hiding. That is probably one of the most dangerous activities one can undertake. Your target has the advantage of already having taken up a position where they ca
n sit and wait, nice and quiet. You, on the other hand, have to move, checking every little nook and cranny and hoping you don’t get shot in the back of the head as you walk past their hiding place.
I was counting on being able to convince them there was no need to search farther. If they actually got their hands on me, that is. They would want to believe me. Want to get the hell out of Dodge, no pun intended, without starting a building-to-building search. But I may have been being too optimistic.
There was little doubt that each of the Russian helos was loaded down with Spetsnaz troops. They would be every bit as skilled as I was, and probably just as motivated to do their jobs and do them well. They wouldn’t be Special Forces if they weren’t. The best-case scenario would be if I could stay hidden until they reached the conclusion that I wasn’t in the area.
If both HINDs were fully loaded that would mean sixteen soldiers on the ground. A lot against just me but not very many to start clearing buildings. Dodge City wasn’t a large town by any means, but it was large enough to swallow up sixteen men on foot. To mount an effective search they really needed twenty times that many as well as ground support vehicles.
The front door of the office building was locked up tight and I didn’t want to blast it open with my rifle and leave evidence that I’d broken in. Moving around the side I froze when I spotted four males slowly bumping along amongst some parked cars. They hadn’t heard or smelled me and were far enough away that I didn’t feel the need to put them down.
They were moving slowly, away from the building, and I gave them a few minutes to open some room before proceeding to the back wall. Another alley ran behind the buildings. Pausing, I poked my head around the corner, not pleased when I saw three females. Fortunately they were moving down the alley away from me.
I quickly checked on the males but they were continuing on their path. The females were far enough away that I could have probably slipped into the alley and found a door without them noticing, but I couldn’t count on whatever entrance I did find being unlocked. So I stayed right where I was, head constantly swiveling as I kept an eye on all of the infected as well as the entire area around me.
The town was deathly quiet, the sighing of a stiff wind the only sound other than the occasional bump of a male as he made his way through the parked vehicles. I was listening hard, afraid that at any moment I’d hear the sound of heavy helicopter rotors approaching and would be forced to move before I was ready.
If that happened there were reasonable odds the females would notice me and come charging. I didn’t want to leave bodies on the ground or a pack of infected pounding on a door I’d gone through. Either would be like a neon sign to the Russians telling them to check that specific building first.
But then, maybe our theory was all wrong and they were just going on some unrelated mission that happened to bring them across our path. Yeah, right. And tomorrow I was going to wake up at home in bed with Katie and find out this whole thing had been a dream.
Standing there, waiting for the infected to clear the area, I tried to think of a way I could use them against the Russians. But every idea I came up with was quickly dismissed. The females finally turned a corner and after a last check on the status of the males I slipped into the alley and moved along the back of the office building.
A plain, steel door was set into the block construction of the wall and the knob turned freely in my hand. Pulling the door open slowly I looked through the opening from the side, rifle up and ready to fire if anything moved. It wasn’t well lit inside the room but there was enough light leaking in from the windows facing the street for me to be able to thoroughly scan without needing the night vision scope.
The walls were lined with cheap plastic shelving, which sagged under the weight of the boxes stored on them. Other than that the room was empty. Stepping inside, I quietly pulled the door closed behind me. Keeping my attention to my front I fumbled behind me until finding the deadbolt and engaging it, then setting the lock in the knob.
Walking deeper into the building I wished for Dog, wanting his nose to warn me of any infected that might be lying in wait. But it was just me, on my own, so I moved forward very slowly. I spent ten minutes satisfying myself that I was alone on the first floor before climbing the creaking stairs to check the upper level.
By the time I reached the second floor landing any infected in the building would have been waiting for me. Every tread of the staircase had creaked and popped as I’d climbed. The sounds were loud in the quiet of the abandoned building.
Even though it should have alerted anyone or anything and brought them running to investigate, I still exercised the same caution in clearing the upper level as I had the one below. Getting sloppy because you think there’s no danger when you haven’t verified it’s clear is a great way to die young. Once I was done, without finding anything to cause me problems, I relaxed and lowered my rifle on its sling.
The noise the stairs produced when walked on determined that I would stay on the ground floor. They were just as noisy going down as they had been going up, and even though I knew I was alone in the building I breathed a sigh of relief when I reached the bottom.
I spent a few minutes checking out the businesses occupying the floor. A small CPA’s office took up the left rear corner, the front half of the level housing an unidentifiable enterprise. There were several desks, each with a phone and stacks of papers, but I didn’t care enough to try and figure out what they did.
The entire right half of the first floor was a small animal Veterinarian. A long, laminate counter separated the entrance from two small exam rooms and the slightly larger storage area I’d entered through. The reception counter was chest high, probably so dogs couldn’t jump over it, and there was a small gate that prevented open access between the public and private areas of the office.
I settled into an office chair, pulling the lever and lowering it with a hiss of the pneumatic cylinder. With the seat all the way down I was able to sit comfortably and see over the counter and through the front windows. I had an unobstructed view of the department store where I’d left Katie and Dog.
Several stand-up cardboard displays lined the surface of the counter and I arranged them to provide more concealment from anyone looking in. They marketed personalized tags for dogs and cats, microchips to identify your pet, a brand of pet food I’d never heard of and one of them sold a variety of different colored dog whistles. I glanced at each, returning my attention to the street, then looked back at the whistles.
I’d recently had my hearing checked because Katie was concerned over how loud I would set the volume on the TV. My hearing had been fine, I just like it that way. Anyway, I’d wound up in a conversation with the technician performing the test. He had been a medic in the Army, which was what started us talking.
We chatted about various things related to the military then he’d gone over the results of my hearing test with me. I don’t know if he did this for everyone but he went into a lot of detail about how humans lose the ability to hear high frequencies. The eardrum grows larger and stiffer with age and can’t respond like it could when we were kids.
He went on to explain how children and teenagers can hear a dog whistle, but adults over the age of about twenty can’t. I hadn’t thought about it since that appointment but now it made me wonder. The infected experienced a lot of subtle physiological changes, not the least among them being enhanced hearing.
Did it all have to do with the nervous system, or could there be some changes to their ears? Could I call them in with a dog whistle, the same way the tone transmitted by the Russian satellites could attract them? Reaching out, I pulled one of the whistles off the display as I heard the faint sound of approaching rotors.
33
The bass vibration of the approaching rotor quickly grew in volume. I wasn’t certain but believed I was only hearing one of the helicopters. When it passed overhead, low and slow, the building shook and I could tell it was only one of t
he two. And it was very low.
So low that the rotor wash whipped the trees in front of the building and swirled dead leaves and trash up into the air as the machine passed. OK, so here was one. Where was the other? Had they split up when they couldn’t find me, one of them returning to town as the other continued on course? Or were they both making long, slow passes over different areas of the city, searching for any sign of me?
The HIND moved on for a minute, then I heard the pitch of the rotor change as the pilot circled and started another pass. This one wasn’t directly over my location and I realized it was following the grid of the streets to search the downtown area.
As I sat there thinking about it, listening to the Russian helicopter, I kicked myself for not having gone to a residential area to hide. I could have put the Charger in a garage and Katie and I could have settled in. Probably in separate houses for the same reason we weren’t together now, but the suburbs might have been a better choice.
Dismissing regrets that I couldn’t do anything about, I kept my eyes trained on the street and tracked their progress with my ears. The helo was on its third pass, now two blocks away, when I saw the first Russian. He was moving down the street, rifle tight across his chest as he scanned continually. He was the point man.
Behind him, well spaced, followed seven more Spetsnaz. They moved in a coordinated formation that kept them close to the center of the pavement with a nice buffer zone around them. All of them were very alert, moving slowly and inspecting every vehicle and the front of every building they passed.
It made sense. They were doing exactly what I would have done in their situation. They had been dropped at the edge of downtown, the helo searching from the air and ready to provide support if needed as they walked the grid. Classic small unit tactics don’t change much from country to country. Some shit just works.