Days Of Perdition: Voodoo Plague Book 6

by Dirk Patton

  I wanted to jump behind the wheel of the Explorer and race down there, blast my way inside and find her. I hoped that Roach would be in my way so I could rip his heart out without having to go looking for him. Involuntarily I smiled at the thought then started when someone touched me.

  Rachel stood close to me, resting her hand on my right shoulder. I lowered the rifle and she slid her hand down my arm to take my hand in hers. With a gentle tug she lead me to the far side of the vehicle where we could have a degree of privacy.

  “You shouldn’t tell her anything about us,” she said in a soft voice. I could hear a note of sadness in her tone.

  “I’ll tell her everything,” I said, holding her hand in mine. “Always have. Not going to start keeping things from her now. Besides, I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you.”

  We looked at each other for a long moment before she stepped forward and I folded her into my arms. It wasn’t a lovers’ embrace, just a hug between two people who’ve been through hell together and care very deeply about each other. As I stood there holding Rachel I finally realized that I had fallen in love with her. Not to the degree that I loved Katie, but far closer to it than I’d ever thought possible. We stood there for a few moments, enjoying holding each other, and might have stood there longer if I hadn’t heard the thrum of approaching rotors.

  Stepping away from Rachel I turned and looked to the south, the direction the noise was coming from. I noted Martinez had raised her rifle and was looking in the same direction.

  “Osprey,” she said after almost a minute of watching through the night vision scope. Osprey meant Marines or Air Force, and since the only ones I’d seen at Tinker were the ones the MEU had brought with them I had a good idea who was coming to the party.

  It didn’t take long for the aircraft to touchdown on the highway, a couple of hundred yards from where we all stood watching it land. I was glad there was a natural visual and sound break in the terrain to shield it from the casino. I didn’t want Roach to know I was here until I wrapped my hands around his throat.

  Telling Rachel and Martinez to stay put and keep watch I walked forward with Dog at my side and met Zemeck halfway to the Osprey. Two Marines followed him as he walked up and gave me another one of his spine cracking hugs.

  “Jesus Christ, Marine. If you’re lonely I’m sure there’s some sheep around somewhere.” I said with a smile.

  “That’s alright. Not interested in your sloppy seconds.” He fired back.

  “Crawford send you?” I asked.

  “Yep. Supposed to get you and effect the rescue of any civilians that may be in distress or being held against their will.” He said with a twinkle in his eye.

  God bless Colonel Crawford. Even after all the headaches I’d caused him, including disobeying orders and taking off on my own to rescue Katie, he was sending me some help. The fact that he’d sent my friend instead of a squad of Rangers wasn’t lost on me. Some day I’d have to do something nice for the man.

  38

  US Navy Commander James McFadden stared at the high definition monitor displaying Admiral Packard’s image. McFadden was the Commanding Officer of the USS Alaska, an Ohio class nuclear powered submarine. At the moment he was unhappy to be sitting at periscope depth, just below the surface of the Pacific Ocean to facilitate the video link with the Admiral. In the depths of the ocean the Alaska was virtually silent, nearly impossible to detect. She was one of the most devastating war machines ever conceived and built by man. Sitting near the surface, gently rolling in the low Pacific swells, Alaska was a sitting duck.

  “The helo that’s inbound to your current location has the personnel and equipment onboard that’s needed to make this happen.” The Admiral said.

  “I’m not clear on why we’re not going after targets in Russia, sir.” McFadden replied.

  “I’m not entirely clear myself,” Packard said. “But the experts say they can bypass most of the fail safes and allow an orbital detonation, but can’t make the device function as a strike weapon. I don’t understand what they’re doing, or how they’re doing it, but I trust they know what they’re talking about.

  “You will provide them with any and all assistance they may require. You are to launch as soon as capable. Any further questions?” The Admiral raised his eyebrows but his tone made it clear he didn’t expect another.

  “No, sir. Good to go.” McFadden replied.

  “Thank you, Jim.” Packard said a moment before breaking the connection.

  Closing down his end of the communication, McFadden shook his head, stood up and exited into the cramped passage outside his cabin. He pulled up short in surprise when he nearly ran into an overweight man wearing civilian clothing. Looking around he saw another man in civvies, two Master Chiefs he didn’t recognize and the boat’s Executive Officer (XO), Lieutenant Commander Danny White.

  “Admiral Packard’s personnel have arrived, skipper.” The XO called out over the heads of the men.

  “I can see that, XO,” he answered with more sarcasm than he intended. “Get us back below the layer. I’ll take them from here.”

  McFadden was referring to the point in the ocean where there is a significant difference in temperature between the surface that is warmed by the sun and the deep, cold water that remains almost a constant temperature year round. Sound waves have a very difficult time penetrating the layer where the two different water temperatures meet. A submarine is safe when it is deep and quiet, and getting the Alaska back into the dark, cold water would protect it from detection by any surface vessels or aircraft.

  “Aye aye, skipper.” White said, making a quick about face and disappearing down the passage.

  “Gentlemen, follow me.” McFadden said to the new arrivals, not taking the time for introductions.

  Ten minutes later he had left the specialists in the capable hands of the boat’s Weapons Officer, or Weps, Lieutenant Michael Sherman. As he walked into the control room a Senior Petty Officer announced his presence and he quickly asked for reports on their status.

  “We’re just passing through the layer, skipper. Heading is 040 and we’ll level out at 600 feet with a thousand fathoms under our keel. Sonar is clear.” The XO informed him then came over to stand next to McFadden.

  “What’s up, sir?” White asked.

  “You know those sat images we were watching of the huge herds moving across the country?” He waited until the XO nodded. “Turns out the Russians are causing it. They’re using high-energy pulses from satellites to create a harmonic tone on the surface that draw the infected in.”

  “What’s that got to do with us?” White asked, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.

  “We’re going to take out the satellites. The experts that the Admiral sent us claim they can remove enough of the safeties on our Tridents to enable the warheads for detonation in low orbit. When they’re ready, we’re going to launch eight birds.

  “The experts on board the Washington believe that the Russians must be using geostationary satellites that are over CONUS (Continental United States) and that if we spread the missiles across the country and detonate them as the Tridents reach apogee, the EM pulse will take out all the Russian satellites.” McFadden answered.

  “Uh, sir, that’s also going to take out all of our orbiting birds as well as most likely fry the electronics in anything on the ground.” White sounded shocked that this was the best plan available.

  “And in the air, but apparently that’s the trade off we’re willing to make. Oklahoma City has the largest concentration of survivors and right now there are three separate herds that have been spotted that the Russians are drawing in to the area. Total numbers of infected bearing down on Tinker are estimated at greater than forty million, and growing. This is the only idea anyone has come up with to stop them.”

  The XO’s mouth fell open in shock at the news. “Why can’t we just use a ballistic missile and take out the satellites that are transmitting the signal?”


  “We don’t know which one, or ones, to target.” McFadden answered. “But we’re not done with the first eight Tridents. Ten more are going to Russia. We can’t strike them, but we’re going to fry every piece of electronics they have. After that, we’re all back to the stone age and when the bullets run out we can start throwing rocks and sticks at each other again.”

  White stood there with his mouth open, staring at his Captain. He hadn’t lost anyone in the attacks as he was an only child whose parents had already passed away. Single, his life had been the Navy for the past 15 years. For him, the reality of the world coming to an end was finally hitting home.

  He’d counseled numerous crewmembers that had lost, or suspected they had lost, their entire families. But the enormity of the deathblow the Russians had dealt to the world hadn’t really sunk in until he contemplated life without any piece of technology more advanced than what was around 100 years ago.

  McFadden and White turned when Lieutenant Sherman walked into the control room.

  “How are our guests doing, Weps?” McFadden asked.

  “They seem to know what they’re doing, skipper.” He answered. “Missiles one and two are done. I watched what they’re doing and it’s really clever. Never would have thought of it, but one of those civilians is a damn genius.”

  “Which one?” The XO asked.

  “The fat one, sir. Sorry, can’t remember his name. He’s a lead engineer from Lawrence Livermore Labs. He was on vacation in Hawaii when the attacks happened. He knows this gear better than he knows his wife’s ass.”

  McFadden couldn’t help but snort a quick laugh at the image Sherman’s comment put in his head.

  “He can’t enable them for use against terrestrial targets?” White asked.

  “No sir. He’s exploiting a hole in the security to enable the warhead, but as you know all of our birds are MIRVs. There’s no way to get into the systems that control the separation, targeting and detonation of the individual warheads. They’d just thud down and dig a hole without going boom.”

  MIRV stands for Multiple Independent Reentry Vehicle. Each Trident missile actually carried three nuclear warheads that would separate after the missile reached apogee above the Earth and began reentering the atmosphere. Each of the warheads can be programmed for a different specific target, or all to the same target, but the deeper level of security that controlled the MIRV function couldn’t be compromised.

  “Thanks, Weps. Let me know as soon as we’ve got all 18 ready to fly. We’ll come up to launch depth, shoot and scoot. I don’t doubt for a second the Russians are watching for something just like this and have a present ready to send our way as soon as they see a launch.” McFadden said.

  39

  “There’s how many?” I asked, surprised at what Zemeck was showing me.

  We were in the back of the Osprey, bent over a small tablet computer that was displaying a two hour old satellite thermal scan of the casino, courtesy of Captain Blanchard. The resolution was quite good and there were multiple white dots within the faint outline of the large building. Each blob represented the heat signature of a human body.

  “Sixty seven,” Zemeck repeated.

  “Infected?” I asked, moving the tablet closer to my face for a better look.

  “Don’t think so,” he replied. “Put the loop in motion. You can see them moving calmly around.”

  Zemeck stabbed a small, right facing arrow at the bottom of the image with an index finger the size of a sausage. As the time bar next to the arrow began progressing I could see many of the figures moving about, but they moved in a coordinated and apparently intentional manner, unlike the randomness of the infected. Several could also be seen walking what was clearly a security patrol pattern.

  “Shit,” I said as the loop ended and the motion on the screen reset to the beginning and froze.

  “Yep. Does this psycho have a bunch of friends? That why he came here?” Zemeck asked.

  “Don’t know. Maybe, or maybe it’s just another group of survivors that he’s hooked up with. Did you notice this?” I asked, pointing to a large concentration of blobs at the edge of the superimposed outline of the building. Rachel and Martinez squeezed forward to see over my shoulders.

  “Prisoners is my guess,” Zemeck said. “Too many bodies too close together to be much of anything else.”

  I grunted my agreement and kept looking at the tablet. Putting the loop in motion again I watched the blobs that were working security. Watched how they moved and where they went and how fast they were moving. Pulling out the rough floor plan that Stephanie had drawn for me I compared it to the image on the tablet screen.

  “Best way in is from the roof,” I said pointing to a spot on the paper. “It’s the far end from the main concentration of people and there’s only one guard that’s going through that area of the casino. Well, there was only one when this was recorded, but if they haven’t had any problems they most likely won’t have changed anything.”

  “Agreed. How do you want to do this?” Zemeck asked.

  I rocked back on my heels and thought about the question. Between Stephanie’s sketch and the thermal scan Zemeck had brought with him I had some really valuable intel, but nothing that told me who these people were. Were they innocent survivors? In normal times the presence of what appeared to be a group of prisoners would have concerned me, but now? They could be holding Roach and other bad guys. There were a ton of possibilities and there was only one way to find out.

  “I’m going in alone to recon,” I said. “If this is just a group of innocents trying to survive, then I’ll introduce myself, collect my wife and be on my way.”

  “You realize the odds of that are pretty damn slim?” Martinez spoke up.

  “I do,” I replied, eyes still glued to the tablet. “And if these are bad guys I’ll be inside to clear the way. I’ll call you on the radio and we’ll do what needs to be done.”

  “You shouldn’t go in alone,” Rachel said, and I recognized the stubborn tone she could take when I was proposing something she didn’t agree with. I started to turn around to talk to her but Zemeck beat me to the punch.

  “That’s exactly what he should do,” he said. “He can move faster and quieter by himself and if he’s half as good as he was the last time I worked with him they’ll never even know he’s in the building.”

  I looked at Rachel and while she didn’t look happy I could tell she respected what the big Marine was telling her. Reaching out I took her hand and gave her a smile that she finally returned.

  “And I brought you a couple of goodies,” Zemeck said.

  He released the bungee cords that were holding down a couple of hard sided cases and dragged them in front of where he kneeled. Before he could open them the pilot, a Marine Captain, walked back from the cockpit.

  “Gunny, we just picked up a distress call from an Army unit that is in contact with a large group of infected. They’re a hundred fifty miles north of us and sound like they’re in a world of shit.” He said.

  “Go get them,” I said before Zemeck had an opportunity to respond. “There’s a perfectly good Pave Hawk on the roof down there if you don’t make it back in time, and I’ve got the Air Force’s hottest pilot right there.” I hooked a thumb in Martinez’ direction.

  “Thank you, sir. I think you’re pretty hot too.” She quipped.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I said grinning, standing up and grabbing the tablet and sketched floor plan. “I was referring to your flying skills.”

  Zemeck hoisted the cases he had brought along and we all walked down the rear ramp. The two Marines that Zemeck had brought with him were keeping watch at opposite ends of the Osprey, Dog sitting next to one of them with a dejected look on his face. A stick was on the ground next to the Marine’s feet and Dog was hoping he’d pick it up and throw it.

  We decided to send the two Marines with the Osprey. The pilot didn’t know what kind of situation he’d be flying into and trying to
effect an extraction during a battle without anyone in the aircraft that wasn’t involved in flying could be a hairy experience. Besides, the mood I was in I was ready to take on everyone inside the casino single-handed.

  A few minutes later the Osprey’s engines started and the ungainly looking aircraft took off to the south, keeping the terrain between it and the large building I was preparing to assault. As soon as they were off the ground we loaded everything into the Explorer and turned ninety degrees to the pavement and drove out into an empty field. We’d been sitting in the open too long for my taste and I was happy to move us into the concealment of a small stand of trees on a ridgeline that overlooked the natural depression where the casino sat.

  Sheltered amongst the trees, Zemeck walked me to the back of the vehicle and opened the cases. First he handed me a set of NVGs that I gladly accepted, along with a new, lighter tactical radio set. From the second case he pulled out a short-barreled Sig Sauer rifle and handed it to me with a grin. The rifle was half the length and weight of my M4, even with the long sound suppressor screwed onto the end.

  “MPX-K in nine mil,” Zemeck said, handing me a fully loaded magazine. “Nice and quiet with the suppressor. Best CQB weapon I’ve ever used.” He meant Close Quarters Battle, which is what fighting in the casino would be.

  I nodded my appreciation as I removed my rifle and worked the Sig’s sling over my head. I spent ten seconds familiarizing myself with the weapon, then emptied my vest of spare mags for the M4 and loaded up with new ones for the Sig.

  “Do you know how to get on the roof?” I asked Stephanie as I was getting the new weapon settled on my body. She shook her head and I turned back to Zemeck. “What else did you bring?”

  “I looked the building over on satellite before leaving Tinker and tried to think of everything we might need. Got you covered,” he said, pulling a pneumatic grappling hook launcher out of the apparently bottomless case. Smiling, I clapped him on the shoulder in thanks.