by Dirk Patton
He nodded and turned into a new tunnel.
“Navy’s got some unwritten rules. The result of some of the guys getting into shit in Iraq and A-stan.”
“Don’t really think any of it matters, now. How ‘bout you, Lieutenant?”
“No, sir,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”
We turned into another tunnel, this one stretching away so far it faded into a dark, distant point.
“Tell me about the infected woman.”
“Nicole? We found her in Seattle. At the university. She was trapped in a nuclear physics lab when the alarm tripped and locked down the building. Scared the crap out of me when I first saw her.”
“Me too,” I chuckled. “How’d she survive?
“A well-stocked staff kitchen. Maybe the infection helped. Maybe not. But she’s OK, and she’s good for Gonzales. Strong as hell if we get in a scrap, and by the way, the females don’t mess with her. I’ve seen them come to a hard stop and just stare at her before running off.”
“No shit?”
“No shit, sir. Kanger couldn’t explain it, but I’ll take any edge we can get.”
We made another turn, and the SEAL brought the cart to a stop next to a door labeled as Secure Communications. Stepping out, I noticed the keypad next to the door had been removed and dangled from a bundle of wires. Two new ones connected different points on a circuit board, held in place with tiny alligator clips.
“Johnson?” I asked, gesturing at the lock.
“Yep. Damn glad he’s here. All of these doors are the real deal, and it’s nice not having to blast our way through.”
I nodded and followed him into a large room. I’m a little old school and was expecting a more traditional radio-shack setup like the Canadians had at Alert station. Instead, everything was sleek consoles with computer screens and futuristic headsets. I stood there, looking around, with no clue where to start.
“Know how to operate it?”
Sam glanced at me and from the expression on his face, I knew what was coming.
“Make an Army joke and I’ll have Dog shit on your pillow.”
He looked surprised for a beat, a big grin finally spreading across his face. Sitting down in front of a console, he began working the keyboard. I didn’t even try to figure out what he was doing.
After only a few seconds, he handed me a headset. As I slipped it on I could hear a soft, electronic tone, then a voice I recognized spoke in my ear.
“Hello, Jessica,” I said.
“Sir! Good to speak with you!”
Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“You too,” I said. “What’s the Russian situation?”
“They’ve pretty much got the Pacific sewn up. Their navy is severely degraded, but they’re using what they have to keep us bottled up in Hawaii. They’ve set up a thousand-mile perimeter around the islands. Probably worried about us showing up in Australia and spoiling their party.”
“Any chance of getting a flight to my location?” I asked.
“Don’t see how. But, the Admiral might have something up his sleeve. You trying to get here?”
“Yes,” I said, not wanting to advertise that I wanted to go on a hunting expedition in Australia.
Jessica lowered her voice.
“Might be better off where you are, sir.”
“Why’s that?” I asked, concern creasing my forehead.
“Lots of hungry people here,” she said even softer. “Food stores are being rationed. The Admiral has people working with the local government to get food production ramped up. It’s starting to look like photos I've seen of America during World War II. Gardens are springing up in everyone’s backyard. Seeds and fertilizer are worth their weight in gold. And don’t even get me started on how we’ve already run out of soap, razors and toilet paper.”
Despite myself, I started laughing. Jessica was quiet for a beat before speaking in a tight voice.
“It’s not funny, sir. You should smell some of the people I have to work with. And the Admiral has already had to relax grooming standards for male personnel. It’s going to look like Duck Dynasty around here before things get better.”
I apologized, but I don’t think she believed I was sincere as I was still laughing as I said I was sorry.
“Was there anything else you needed other than to amuse yourself over my hygiene issues?”
Jessica’s words were tight, but I could hear the smirk in her tone as she spoke. I chuckled at her response, happy for a little relief.
“Actually, I need to speak with the Admiral. Think you can transfer me over to his office?”
“Stand by, sir,” she said, all business again.
The line went quiet and stayed that way for some time. With a sigh, I plopped into a chair in front of the console. Sam was giving me an inquisitive look, and I filled him in on the shortages the people in Hawaii were dealing with.
“That’ll ease as soon as we can break the stalemate with the Russians,” he said. “Got to be warehouses full of all of that stuff, and probably plenty of cargo ships rusting at the docks all along the west coast.”
I nodded as Jessica came back on the line.
“Sir, he’s in a briefing at the moment, and his aide refuses to interrupt.”
“Shit. OK, can you put me through to his aide?”
“He ordered me not to do that, sir. I think you scared him the last time you called.”
She laughed as she said this. I shook my head and leaned back in the chair.
“Have him call me ASAP,” I said. “Tell him I’ve found something here at Groom Lake that he’s definitely going to want to know about.”
5
Admiral Packard sat at the end of the large conference table, staring at the projected image on the far wall of the room. Commander Detmer had just completed a briefing he had prepared based on the Athena Project file that Major Chase had recovered from the Russians at Offutt Air Force Base. He was stunned at the information he’d just received.
“Do we have any way to verify this?” He asked after several minutes of silence.
“Sir, we have verified that there is what appears to be an oil production platform at the precise coordinates contained in the documents. Additionally, the information that a massive superconducting supercollider has been constructed beneath the seabed matches the mysterious ring we discovered with the NSA satellite. Short of an on-site inspection, I am of the opinion that we have enough verification to validate the file.”
Captain Beasley, one of Packard’s senior staffers, spoke up.
“There’s no way this could be a Russian false flag operation? Dummy up a top secret file and use the information contained therein to draw us into the gulf? That’s damn tight quarters in there if we had to fight.”
“No, sir,” Detmer answered, shaking his head. “I do not believe that to be the case. We also have the personal diary, taken from the body of a Spetsnaz officer, which references his unit being sent in search of records of the Athena Project.”
Beasley nodded but didn’t appear convinced. Still, he held his tongue.
“Something’s not right,” Rear Admiral Black groused. “If the goddamn Russians didn’t get away with the file, then how did they know to be in the area and shoot down our reconnaissance flight? Can you explain that to me, Commander?”
“No, sir. All I can do is posit a theory. The Russians noticed the tankers we put in the area. They went to investigate, and the timing was bad for Lieutenant Commander Vance.”
“I’m still not buying it,” Black said sourly, turning to face Packard.
“Enough,” Packard held his hand up before things got out of control. “I’m convinced there’s something to this. I’m not sure I’m buying the whole black hole and warped space-time thing, but there’s no way this was a plant by the Russians.
“They had no way of knowing the Major’s flight was going to land in Omaha for fuel. It wasn’t planned. The pilot didn
’t even know until an hour before they set down. No. I think the file is genuine.”
He paused and looked around the room. Saw doubt in the eyes of many of the assembled officers, but also saw that they were going to keep any further disagreement to themselves. He turned his attention back to Detmer.
“Commander, have you had any luck trying to communicate with the platform?”
“No, sir. None. Comm protocols are one thing that is not contained in the file. We don’t even know if they’re capable of broadcasting or receiving on any of our channels. Perhaps they are, but are deliberately remaining EM silent to avoid drawing the Russian’s attention.”
“Do we have any confirmation that there’s even anyone still alive on the platform?” Admiral Black asked.
“No, sir. We do not. We are able to confirm through satellite surveillance that the platform is powered up, as is the supercollider, but that could be automated systems. We are maintaining 24-hour watch from orbit, but so far have not seen any signs of activity.”
“Could the infection have reached them? Fifty miles out at sea?” Packard asked.
“Yes, sir. Any number of ways. A transfer of personnel before the initial outbreak. Or, we know the virus has jumped to birds, and the platform is certainly within the range of a variety of species that inhabit the Texas coast.”
The room fell silent again, each man thinking about the possibility that the personnel manning the platform were nothing more than raging infected. Every head turned when the door suddenly burst open, one of Packard’s aides charging into the room.
“Sir,” the Lieutenant nearly shouted. “Commander Vance is alive! We just found him!”
“Where?”
Admiral Black was the first to speak up.
“He’s in the northern portion of the Sea of Cortez, sir. Between Baja and mainland Mexico.”
“He’s in the water?” Packard asked.
“Raft, sir. He must have punched out and was able to deploy the survival raft.”
“That damn little puddle isn’t that big. How far from land?”
“He’s pretty much in the middle, sir. The closest land to him is 30 miles, and the wind is pushing him south. Keeping him in the middle of the Sea.”
Admiral Black spun around in his chair and snatched a phone off a side table. He barked into it, then listened for a few moments before slamming it down.
“We’ll never get an SAR flight in there,” he growled. “Fuckin Commies got the area sewn up tighter than a frog’s ass.”
“Commander,” Packard said to Detmer. “How far away is Major Chase? He’s at Groom Lake in southern Nevada.”
While Detmer pulled up a map, the Lieutenant cleared his throat, causing Packard to look at him.
“Something to say, Lieutenant?”
“Sir, Major Chase called for you earlier. I told him I’d have you call him back after your briefing concluded.”
Packard glared at the junior officer from beneath his bushy eyebrows, turning back when Detmer spoke up.
“He’s definitely in the neighborhood, sir. Four hundred miles, straight line. I’m not sure how far with the roads he’d have to take.”
Packard was quiet for a beat.
“Alright. This Athena Project can wait. We’ve got a man in the water, and we need to get to him. Commander, get with Seaman Simmons and have her put together a route for him to the port closest to Vance’s location, and also have her start looking for a boat the Major can use once he gets in the area.”
Detmer acknowledged the order, gathered his files and hustled out of the conference room.
“Lieutenant, get the Major on the line,” Packard said.
The man leaped forward and set to work on the secure phone resting in the middle of the conference table. There was a series of electronic tones, then Major Chase’s voice came over the speaker.
6
Sam and I had been swapping stories about events since the attacks. He’d had some hairy experiences of his own. I resisted the temptation to one-up with what I’d dealt with. When the comm console beeped for attention, he was telling me about the trip through the locks in Seattle with Dr. Kanger.
“Major, I hope all is well,” Admiral Packard said when I answered.
“As it can be, sir,” I said.
“Good. I hope you understand why I couldn’t allow any infected into Hawaii. How is your wife?”
I was quiet for a moment, giving my throat a chance to unconstrict before I answered.
“She passed away, sir,” I finally said.
There was a long stretch of silence before Packard spoke again.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss, Major. I wish there was something I could have done.”
“Me too, sir,” I said.
“We have a man in trouble, and he’s not far from you,” Packard transitioned smoothly, and I was happy to talk about anything other than Katie.
“Someone still in CONUS?” I asked in surprise.
Sam’s eyes locked onto me when he heard my question.
“Close enough,” the Admiral said. “He’s adrift on a… Sea…tez…”
“Admiral, repeat your last,” I said, flapping my hand at the Lieutenant for assistance.
Sam leaned forward and yanked the headset’s plug out of the console, transferring the audio to a built-in speaker. We heard an electronic squeal that made both of us cringe, then Admiral Packard’s voice returned for a brief moment.
“…forty mile.. sou..west … Penasco…”
“Admiral, I do not have a good copy on your message. Please repeat!”
I shouted into the microphone though I knew that wouldn’t do any good. Sam manipulated the console without any success.
“Kill it and open a new circuit,” I said.
He nodded and entered some commands, grunting when several indicators on the screen remained red.
“What’s wrong?” I asked when he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to fill me in.
“We aren’t connecting to the satellite,” he said. “Either it’s being jammed, or it’s gone.”
“Any way around it?”
He shook his head as he tried a few different commands.
“We’re limited to the NSA satellites. Everything else was knocked out by the EMP. There is no around.”
“You sure it’s a satellite failure?” I asked.
“Pretty sure.”
“What if it’s Hawaii? The Russians lob another nuke?”
He was shaking his head before I finished speaking.
“Not that that isn’t possible, but our problem, for the moment at least, is we can’t connect to the satellite. If I had to guess, it’s the Russians doing something.”
“Fuck! Sounds like we’ve got a man in the water and the Admiral wanted us to go get him.”
“In the water? We’re in the middle of the goddamn desert,” Sam said, turning to look at me.
“It was broken up, but I’m pretty sure he was saying the Sea of Cortez.”
Sam shook his head.
“Gulf of California,” he clarified. “Between Baja and the main part of Mexico. About 600 miles long and a hundred or so miles wide. That’s sixty thousand square miles. How the hell are we supposed to find someone in that?”
“You heard the last part he said? Penasco? Forty miles southwest. That’s got to be Puerto Penasco. Rocky Point if you’re an American. It’s only about 80 miles south of the border.”
I looked around the room for a map but didn’t find one. Sam stared at me, doubt on his face.
“What?”
“That’s pretty fuckin thin, Major. How many towns do you think there are in Mexico that have Penasco in their name?”
“Got no clue,” I said. “But, probably a few. That just happens to be the one I know of.”
“He didn’t try to give any coordinates?”
“That was probably coming,” I said, shaking my head.
I didn’t blame him for being dubious. We were a good distance
from Mexico and had nothing more to go on than a broken transmission. An idea dawned on me, and I slapped my pants pocket. I still had a handheld sat phone. Jumping to my feet, I headed for the door.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked, getting up and following.
“Got a sat phone,” I said over my shoulder. “Going to give it a try. Make sure we don't just have an equipment problem.”
We hopped in the golf cart, and Sam accelerated away with a squeal of tires on the smooth concrete. Several minutes later we had successfully negotiated the maze of tunnels and emerged into warm sunshine.
Stepping well clear of the cart, I brought the phone out and powered it on. It took a long time to boot, then began searching for a signal. After nearly five minutes, it was still in search mode. I said a couple of choice words and powered it down before shoving it back in my pocket.
“It’s gotta be one of our pilots,” Sam said. “Had to eject and came down in the water.”
“The Admiral said he’s adrift,” I said, trying to remember the exact words. “Adrift would mean he’s on a raft. Right? He’d say something different if he was just in the water?”
Sam nodded, thinking.
“There're single occupant, inflatable rafts built into the ejection seats of our fighters,” he finally said. “And yes, you’re right. If a Navy man says adrift, he means a vessel that isn’t powered.”
“No doubt about that?” I asked, turning and checking the area around us for infected.
“An old warhorse like the Admiral wouldn’t make that mistake.”
Sam spoke with certainty, then waved me to the side as he raised his rifle. I moved and turned to see a female sprinting towards us. He fired a single shot, and she flopped lifelessly to the desert sand.
“What if he’s in the water?” I asked, getting a shake of his head.
“The Admiral wouldn’t even have called us. Someone in the water isn’t going to last very long.”
“This is Mexico,” I said. “The water’s warm.”
He looked at me and shook his head.