“We have stolen dozens of vehicles, Petey.” Brendan wanted to slam the stupid fucker into the side of the SUV but knew that wasn’t how a leader should behave.
“There’s Cliff and Renee on top of that hill. Pull in slowly so we don’t send a lot of dust in the air,” Louisa said.
“Copy,” Gloria replied and pulled up beside the others’ SUV.
“What’s happening?” Brendan asked.
“They are going into the building now after they circled the lot and looked into some of the outbuildings. Hopefully, we can pick them up on a radio soon.”
“What’s the rush?”
“That group that was hanging out just south of the border had some others join them this morning and are headed this way,” Cliff said.
“Yeah, but can we really trust the ham operators? Just days ago, they said that Phoenix was at war. War with who?” Louisa replied.
“I know, and we have heard recently that it might be true. Seems there are some governments trying to take advantage of our situation and have tried to move in. You can just guess which ones.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah… we have heard it all before. Russia, China, and Botswana are attacking… or Hitler still lives… chemtrails in the sky… get your guns, the Feds are taking over… You conspiracy theorists are all fucked in the head with goofy shit,” Louisa said while ignoring the glare from Cliff.
Renee smiled and shook her head. She had seen enough lately to feel as if there might be something behind a couple of those theories. The rumors being spread through the land carried an air of validity. It filled her with rage at how much had been lost; she sort of liked the thought of having someone to blame, somewhere to vent and destroy without guilt.
The infected had grouped together and were easy to keep controlled and away from where they stayed. At first it was absolute chaos when an eater could just pop up anywhere, but then as the uninfected thinned out, the infected naturally grouped together. Being of the same ilk, with the same lusts, they flowed more as a river from one distraction to the next, easily controlled and directed.
Trapping them in large buildings and stadiums was Brendan’s idea. They still had tens of thousands to secure but empty streets and freedom for her city would be at hand in a year, maybe two. Now, however, it looked like war may be at hand.
“Give me that radio for a sec, Jesse,” Renee said. “Anna says these guys are making a beeline for this compound, or whatever it is.” Renee keyed the mic on the handheld. “Hey asshole, turn on your radio so we can talk. You know there ain’t no railroad jobs out here.”
“Santa Fe Western rail inspection; how can we help you today?” The male voice that replied dripped with sarcasm.
“Listen, smart ass, you need to get the fuck out of there ASAP.”
“Oh, is this facility yours?” The tone remained cocky.
“Look, I don’t give a fuck what you do, okay? I just want you to know that there is a convoy moving your way, and they don’t look friendly.”
“Iranian or Korean?” a new voice asked.
“They all have beards, if that means anything.”
“Okay, listen closely. We are here from Phoenix, and this is a cache of supplies that will last you years—with food, showers, clothing, and all the comforts of home. This was put here by the people who caused this virus that killed all our families and friends. Those bastards are the ones coming here right now.”
“Sounds like a load of crap,” Renee replied, but for some reason wanted to believe him.
“Oh, I can prove it. If we survive the next couple hours, that is. Copy?”
“Copy. Out.” Renee changed frequencies, which she was unaware could be tracked by those in the building.
“Anna, tell Reggie and the gang we need all arms up here off El Cerro Mission. Bring the M60 rigs and the grenades; it is time for some payback.”
Chapter Thirteen
Albuquerque New Mexico, May 7th
Ian and his crew didn’t wait for more conversation as they followed the maps of the complex for some heavier arms. The group headed their way would be coming with fire power, and he prayed they wouldn’t blow up their own armory. Either way, they needed some rockets and things that go boom and didn’t have much time to locate them.
Thankfully, there were detailed maps in several places, both hard copy and digital. Toby and Ian were soon running for the elevator and heading down two floors to the armory, planning on hitting the motor pool next, though a vehicle wouldn’t help them at this point. Their safety was going to be by staying with the one thing that they didn’t want to blow up. The facility.
The room was as long as a football field with rows of identical Armalites lining the west wall in racks, six high, for the entire length. Toby grabbed one and inspected the chamber and magazine.
“They’re all hot with 5.56,” he said.
“Looks like there are some larger calibers down here; a few have launchers.” Ian grabbed a wheeled cart and threw eight or ten of the M4s into it then moved down to some SCARS.
“Hey, why are they using all American shit?” Toby said.
“I don’t know, probably easier to buy weapons here and store them than to try and smuggle them in. North Korea is broke, but Iran isn’t, and they’re well connected here in the States.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because they have piles of money. Everybody with piles of money is connected here in the States; it’s called Capitalism.”
“Quite a dissertation for a simple question, boss. I mean, couldn’t you have just said ‘because I know shit’?”
“All right, Tobes, it looks like a pile of RPGs right over there, and we can bring some rounds up for the Barrett. That will pick apart anything but a tank.”
“Okay, look for some incendiary rounds for anything… Oh cool, I don’t fucking believe it!”
“What do ya got?” Ian leaned over and looked at a case Toby had opened.
“This is like the one they used on Reign of Fire,” he said reverently as he held up a small crossbow with a matching explosive-headed shaft.
“This ain’t the movies, Toby. Put it away for later,” Ian said as he grabbed two more of the RPG cases.
“Fuck you, I’m keeping it. There is a ton of loads for it right here.”
“That doesn’t look like quite a ton, but whatever. Let’s move, we haven’t even looked at firing options.”
“I’m not taking the roof; the dude on the roof always gets killed.”
“You set yourself up. I’m going to grab another cart and try to get to the hangars, so we can catch them in a crossfire. Stay on channel fourteen.”
“Roger,” Toby replied and headed off toward the elevator while Ian grabbed a smaller, but more mobile, cart. “I’ll send the elevator back down for you.”
“Thanks,” Ian yelled as he ran back to get more.
“Cameras are picking up dust plumes to the south, boss man. Better pick up the pace,” Kinsey said over the radio.
“Roger. Hit them when they try the gate code, with or without me.”
“Brilliant, like they’re going to come up here without scouting it out first? You’re not thinking, Ian. This will be recon. Do we take them out or no?”
“Depends on how closely they want to check us out. Use your judgement.” Ian replied while shaking his head for not thinking clearly.
“Roger. Going to take up position near one of the front entries as soon as Toby brings some goodies.”
“Jasper and I are trying to get to the hangars, so keep an eye on the recon team.”
“Roger. Call me when you need to cross open ground. Out.”
Kinsey was right; it was recon. Two armored Urals off-loaded a dozen soldiers, all of them bearded, all of them men. They spread out, checking the perimeter. The tracks Ian’s team left in the dirt was an obvious signal that somebody had come into the facility, and there were no tracks leading out. Ian was not going to get to the hangar unseen, so he decided to set
up where he was, even if he would have to expose himself to acquire certain targets.
A command was given in Iranian, and everybody stiffened up and started to creep slowly around the perimeter, rifles ready. The soldier who gave the command brought a radio to his mouth, and even though Ian couldn’t hear him, he knew the man was warning the main force about the tracks going in. Then Ian heard a shout… the Iranians had spotted the rig they had been driving since Talladega.
“It’s not looking good, boss. Seems they got our number. I recommend that we engage,” Kinsey said, sounding as if she was still in the control room where all of the cameras were.
“Negative. They’re too spread out; bide your time and wait for them to gather up at the gate again.”
“Roger that, except there is one who found another gate, a pedestrian-size with a keypad. I don’t suppose we were able to change the codes on anything along the east side, were we? Over.”
“Negative. Got the gatekeeper in my sights now, and it looks like he has the code,” Toby replied.
“Take the shot, Toby. No one comes in,” Ian said.
“Gatekeeper is down, and the rest are scrambling for cover. Nice shot, Ivy League,” Kinsey replied, with Ian feeling out of position and useless.
“Trouble on the horizon. I’m seeing two dust plumes down on the road behind the rise. I think they’re bringing in some heavy guns,” Toby said.
“Roger, I’m going up top.” Ian recollected Toby’s comment about the guy on the roof always taking the hit. It made him feel like the black person in a horror flick or a red shirt on Star Trek; they were there simply to die.
He made his way to the roof access, dragging along an RPG and six rockets, which was about the extent of what he could carry and maintain his rifle, sidearm, some grenades for the launcher on his rifle, helmet, and body armor.
Not for the first time, he speculated at how much fun war would be with one of those magical pockets that you see on the video games, and he could just pull what he needed out of the air when he needed it. As is always the case, reality was a lot grittier and required living with muscle strain, situations without answers, and no talismans. Real life sucked, not to mention that things usually smelled really bad, including himself, having gone a couple days without a shower.
He watched as two MRAPs crested the hill, making note that they too were American, and sported a symbol from a Texas National Guard or some such entity. He watched as they gathered speed, obviously intent on breaking down the gate or even the fence line, which would cause some big issues.
Then something he learned back in Phoenix came to his mind as he lined up his RPG sights on the lead vehicle. These were preservation teams, sent in to stabilize the area from nukes and refineries. Probably no engineers in the main assault vehicle though.
He let fly and watched the smoke trail as it led straight into the grill of the MRAP and exploded with a directional charge that most likely removed the lower halves of the two people in the front seats. It became a hulking ruin instantly, from which nothing other than smoke escaped.
Ian changed position, keeping the extensive roof equipment between him and prying eyes. Smoke trails are clear indicators, and his last position would hold their attention for several minutes unless they were really good. An experienced soldier would use that point as a reference while searching the vicinity, as opposed to the spot.
He heard the dull thump of lead impact on sheet steel duct work, and he knew someone had eyes on him. A two-foot diameter PVC vent shattered from rapid fire almost right in front of him as he was setting up for a shot at the other MRAP.
He sprawled flat on the rooftop, having seen the other vehicle retreat, which could give him enough time to get off the roof, if that was possible.
“I’m pinned down up here. Two shooters in cross pattern, six o’clock and eight-thirty.”
“I’ve got eight-thirty spotted via link. Look to the sand piles behind Quonset Fourteen for the second shooter,” Kinsey replied.
“Copy,” Ian said and began to zero in on his target, who quickly ducked behind one of the piles.
“I got eyes on six o’clock and waiting for the shot,” Toby replied then added, “I warned you about the roof, didn’t I?”
“Copy,” was all Ian said in reply.
“Give your six a little bait, and I’ll pop him when he comes up to take the shot. I can only see helmet right now. “
“Can’t you pop him through his helmet?” Kinsey asked.
“Possibly, but if I don’t, then he knows both of our locations, best to await the opportunity,” Toby replied.
Keeping an air conditioner unit between him and eight-thirty, Ian backed out into view of the one at six o’clock. He walked backward with his rifle trained on eight-thirty. He saw the sliver of a head appear, and Ian placed half of his magazine into the sand pile where the rest of his head would be, and the face disappeared behind the pile.
Ian didn’t hear the shot, as Toby still had the silenced rifle they had arrived with, but no shots were fired at him, and he made his way quickly to the hatch, leaving the RPG and the rounds for it up on the roof. He had many more down below, and you never know when you will need a height advantage.
“They’re pulling back. Probably going to call in an air strike.”
“Negative, Kins. They don’t want to blow up their own base and supplies. Call that group outside and tell them that if they spot a science team, not to shoot them. We need them to do what they came to do,” Ian instructed.
“Roger. Looks like they have switched to 174 MHz, interrupting broadcast now,” Kinsey said, and Ian’s radio went silent.
Ian didn’t fully relax until he was inside and sorting through his cart full of goodies. Hopefully he could slip over to one of the hangars and have a better look at the fence line. The way they were stacked tight in a solid row, he knew that they were connected by either passageway or conjoined walls and would offer good cover from multiple positions, but he was going to have to wait for intel from Kinsey before he made a move.
“This is Railroad One to Albuquerque, do you copy?” Kinsey said and waited. She knew that they had heard her; they just needed a couple seconds to get over their shock.
“This is Albuquerque. How did you…” the female first-contact person spoke again.
“Find you? It was easy with all the shit they have in here to track communications. Listen, this team is mainly made of scientists and engineers sent out to stabilize nuclear plants and oil refineries and shit. Over.”
“So, they’re invaders who killed our people.” The woman’s voice was resolute.
“I am aware of that, but we need them to do what they were sent here to do, or the rest of us will die off in a matter of years, so don’t shoot any nerds. Over.”
A long pause hung heavily in the air, almost causing Kinsey to speak again, against her better judgement. These people were ragged and beaten, morally and emotionally scarred from what they had been through. To assume that even one of them maintained the sanity they did just over a month ago was foolish. They were all crazy, as insane as the day is long and spoiling for a fight with a lust for retribution… just like Kinsey was.
“Copy,” was the only reply, and Kinsey switched back to their private comms. “Okay, Ian, I told them.”
“Great, can you get me over to one of those hangars?”
“Yes, Quonset Seventeen looks to be your best bet. There is movement outside the fence at ten o’clock, nine-thirty, and still the one at eight-thirty, but they are fading back.”
“Withdrawing with the others?” Ian pressed.
“No, fading back to what looks to be observation posts.”
“Great, we’re under fucking siege.”
“Go now; Hangar Seventeen go, go, go,” Kinsey urged, and Ian took off, pushing his cart ahead of himself with Jasper hot on his heels. No shots were incoming.
The door had no locking mechanism other than a simple handle that opened inward. Ian w
alked into a Quonset that housed an Apache helicopter that, by his understanding of helicopters, looked to be fully operational and completely loaded with armaments. Behind it was a mechanics area that seemed specifically set up for this particular bird and was equipped with more munitions and spare parts.
He let out a long whistle and marveled at how cool the building was. He walked by a vent and felt cold air coming out, causing his jaw to drop even closer to the floor. In the old world, to keep a building like this air conditioned constantly would cost a year of his wages, and they had at least thirty of these structures on the property, but why? Then it dawned on him. These birds were fully loaded with fuel, and the temperature was to keep it stable.
He thought that was the reason but then remembered that aviation fuel was more akin to diesel, which is incredibly stable verses petroleum. Also, in Phoenix the rotary wings just sat on the runway. There were a lot of questions that needed to be answered about this place. He wasn’t sure about the fuel… maybe that was for a C-130. His knowledge of anything aviation was extremely limited.
“Ian, you got ears on? Over.” Kinsey’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“I do. Over.”
“Good, it looks like they want to parlay. Over.”
“Well, that’s unexpected. Call Albuquerque and have them send two to meet me up on that hill to the north. You and Toby can monitor from here. Relay to… who is it, Korea? Over.”
“Nope, Iran. Over.”
“Ahh, tell them we’ll meet at 1800 hours and Albuquerque at 1600. Over.”
“Copy. Out.”
Chapter Fourteen
Albuquerque New Mexico, May 7th
Ian had some time, so he walked the half mile up to the crest of the hill, which was more like a dune. The two from Albuquerque were waiting for him, and as he expected, they looked to be more banker and trades workers than military.
“Hi, I’m Ian McCollister. How are you doing?”
For Which We Stand: Ian's road (A Five Roads To Texas Novel Book 3) Page 17