Fulcrum: V Plague Book 12

by Dirk Patton

  I rolled my eyes and didn’t bother to respond. Apparently, he was managing to communicate with Igor.

  Twenty minutes later I slowed as we drove across a cattle guard that protected a narrow, paved highway. Turning south, I accelerated past a sign that welcomed us to Rachel, Nevada.

  “Good town,” Rachel said, deadpan.

  “They’ve probably never heard of Area 51, either.”

  “And they’re probably stunningly beautiful with well above average intelligence.”

  “Must be aliens, then.”

  That earned me another smack, then I had to focus on my driving as a small group of males stumbled from behind a building and onto the highway. The heavy grill guard bulled them aside, then I was able to push our speed up to 60. The wheel vibrated, and the whole vehicle squirmed side to side. Not too bad, but it was going to be a damn long 400 miles.

  “We aren’t going through there, I hope,” Rachel said, hooking her thumb at the side of the road.

  We had just passed a sign that said Las Vegas was 137 miles.

  “Don’t know how much choice we’re going to have,” I said. “This is a pretty desolate area. Not a lot of roads that don’t go through Vegas. I’m planning to stop in the next town to find a map.”

  Rachel nodded, looking around at the bleak landscape. The sun was setting, painting the desert with a golden light. Other than the asphalt, there wasn’t a single indication of civilization. It was going to be a very dark night.

  The town was tiny, and we were through it in only a couple of minutes. There was nothing ahead or to either side of the road other than stark, empty desert. Rachel watched the landscape as the light began to fade, leaning back in her seat and sighing.

  “What?” I asked, checking in the mirror to make sure Long and Sam were close.

  “It’s so bleak. Barren. It’s… I don’t know. Spooky?”

  “Really? This feels like home to me.”

  “How do you stand it without some green? Some trees, or even some bushes and grass?”

  “Guess it’s what you’re used to,” I said. “I grew up in west Texas, which is just as desolate as this, and Arizona isn’t any different. I actually prefer this to a forest. At least here, you can see what’s coming for you before it’s in your face.”

  Rachel thought about that for a minute, scratching Dog’s head as she kept looking around.

  “You’ve spent a lot of time in forests, though. Right?”

  I nodded as I answered.

  “Yep. Jungles, actually. Central America. Africa a little bit. Wherever there was something going on that needed a little special attention. And there were a few deserts thrown in for good measure. Personally, I’ll take the deserts. Can’t stand all the bugs that live in jungles, and I’m not a fan of humidity.”

  “What about snakes and scorpions and spiders? I thought the desert was full of them?”

  “They’re there. But I wouldn’t say full. And you learn to look before you step or sit. Generally, there’s nothing in the desert that will come after you. Leave it alone, it’ll leave you alone. Just remember rule number one.”

  “What’s that?” She asked, turning to look at me.

  “Never put on a pair of boots that you haven’t shaken out. Scorpions like tight, dark places, like the inside of a boot.”

  “I’ve noticed you do that. Thought it was just some kind of ritual, knocking them against something like that.”

  “Nope,” I shook my head. “I was maybe five years old when I learned that lesson. Was messing around in my parents’ closet and thought I’d put on Dad’s boots. Just stuck my feet in. Scorpion got me on my big toe. That’s one of those mistakes you’ll only ever make once in your life.”

  “How bad are the stings?”

  “Bad enough, if you aren’t allergic. You’ll be in pretty bad pain for a week. If you have an allergy, like to bee stings, it can kill you quick.”

  Rachel shuddered and fell silent. The light was fading fast, and I lowered the pair of night vision goggles I’d taken from the armory. We were going to run dark and hopefully not draw the attention of any passing Russian planes. Sure, they’d spot us if they were using a thermal scanner, but unless they were out patrolling specifically for vehicle traffic, we’d probably go unnoticed. At least, that’s what I hoped.

  We drove for another half an hour without seeing a single sign of civilization, other than a lone road sign. Rachel had settled in and seemed to be on the verge of drifting off. Dog had retreated to the rear seat and was on his back, legs up in the air, snoring loud enough that I was sure the windows were vibrating.

  “Major!”

  Long’s voice in my radio earpiece startled me out of the near hypnotic state I was in from driving.

  “Go,” I answered.

  “You got a civilian radio in your vehicle?”

  I glanced around but didn’t spot one. They weren’t standard equipment in military vehicles, but a lot of the guys would strap a cheap boom-box in for a little entertainment on long patrols.

  “Negative. What’s up?”

  “You should hear this.”

  “Copy. We’re stopping.”

  I lightly touched the brakes and slowed the Humvee, staying in the middle of the road. Rachel sat up straight and looked around.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Long’s got something on a civilian radio frequency he wants me to hear.”

  Dog woke up and scrambled to his feet as the vehicle came to a stop. I left the engine running and looked all around before opening the door and stepping out, my rifle in my hands. Rachel and Dog followed a moment later.

  Long had stopped within a couple of feet of my back bumper, Sam tight behind him. The SEAL officer stepped out when he saw me, scanned the area behind us, then walked forward to meet at the middle vehicle.

  The armored window was slid open, and I could hear a voice as I approached Long’s Hummer. He and Igor stayed inside, staring at a small radio that was rubber banded to a grab bar. The voice was slightly static covered, but clear enough to tell it was an English speaking woman.

  “… will repeat.”

  I only heard those two words, then there was nothing but static.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  Long held up a finger to tell me to hang on, keeping his attention focused on the radio. A few seconds later, the voice returned.

  “We have moved to sector five. Sectors one, three, four and six are overrun. Charlie and Delta are in sector two. All units report at designated times. This message will repeat.”

  10

  “How long have you been hearing that?” I asked.

  “Found it just before I called you,” Long answered.

  The voice returned, and we all listened as the same message was repeated.

  Sam turned and scanned around us.

  “What the hell is it?” Rachel asked.

  “Did it just start up, or were you rolling through channels and found it?” I asked, ignoring Rachel for the moment.

  “Igor was rolling through,” Long said.

  The message started again. I listened closely, trying to tell if it was a live broadcast and the woman was repeating herself, or if it was taped and on a loop. This time, she paused in a different spot to take a breath. The same words but they were being broadcast live.

  She finished speaking, and we stared at the radio, waiting for her to start again. This time, she didn’t. Instead, there was a sudden increase in static as the transmitter went off the air. I checked on Sam, who was still keeping watch.

  “Survivors?” Rachel asked.

  I shrugged, standing there in the dark and thinking.

  “They have to be close, right? For us to hear them?”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “AM radio and the sun is down. That transmission could be coming from hundreds of miles away, especially now when there aren’t any competing signals.”

  “Or, they could be in the next town,” Sam said without t
aking his focus off the surrounding desert.

  “Right,” I said.

  “Any chance it’s military?” Rachel asked.

  “Possible,” I acknowledged. “But I doubt it. There’s more than enough radio gear lying around that’s in good working order.”

  “And this is a one-way broadcast,” Long said. “There’s no way to answer. But she’s telling units to check in. That means they’ve got two-way comms. So why the hell are they transmitting in the clear?”

  I shook my head again. It didn’t make any sense to me. But it did make me nervous. We were approaching Vegas. If there was somehow a group that had survived the virus and the infected, they might be a problem. There was no reason to think they’d be friendly at this point.

  “She said report,” Sam said. “We may be wrong in assuming they are going to do that over a radio. Maybe they don’t have any comm gear and all they can do is listen for a broadcast and take action on what they’re told.”

  “Then how do they report?” Rachel asked.

  “Maybe they send a runner. Or flash a light. There're all kinds of ways to communicate,” I said, thinking about what Sam had just said. And agreeing with him.

  “OK,” I said after another minute of thought. “This doesn’t change anything. We’ve still got a man to rescue. Next town is Crystal Springs. I’m going to stop if I see someplace that looks like it’ll have a road map. Stay tight and keep your eyes open. Let me know if there are any more broadcasts.”

  Sam and Long nodded, the SEAL heading back to his waiting vehicle. Rachel, Dog and I piled in our Humvee, quickly getting back up to speed.

  We reached Crystal Springs in less than fifteen minutes. It was slightly larger than the last town, sitting astride the junction of two minor highways. No infected greeted us as we passed a faded welcome sign. Everything was dark and abandoned.

  “Keep your eyes moving,” I said to Rachel in a low voice.

  She was wearing a set of night vision goggles. Between us, there shouldn’t be much we couldn’t see.

  I slowed as we approached an intersection with a road sign pointing the way to Vegas. Beyond, a small truck stop loomed in the night. Driving through the intersection, I wheeled into its lot and came to a stop a hundred yards from the closest building. Taking my time, I slowly scanned the entire area.

  “Front’s clear,” I transmitted after checking to see if Rachel had spotted anything.

  Long and Sam responded in turn, neither of them seeing anything of concern.

  “Dismount,” I ordered, shutting the engine off.

  We all got out, meeting next to the middle Hummer. Dog’s nose was up, testing the air. I paused a moment, giving him time, but he just kept sniffing without indicating there were any infected in the area.

  “Long and Igor, stay with the vehicles,” I said. “The rest of us, let’s see if there’s a map inside.”

  I would have preferred to have everyone stay together, especially in the event we ran into any problems, but I wasn’t about to leave the Humvees unguarded. All you have to do to start one is turn a small lever, and it would take a matter of seconds for one, or all, to be stolen. There are normally steel cables, mounted to the dash, that can lock the steering wheel in place and prevent theft, but for some reason, they had been removed from these. So someone needed to keep an eye on them.

  I led the way across the lot, Dog close to my side. Rachel was right behind us, Sam hanging back a few yards and covering our rear. The dark building ahead was small, large panes of glass looking out over the fueling area of the truck stop. There weren’t any vehicles at the pumps, but in a large, dirt lot to the side were half a dozen abandoned 18 wheelers.

  As we approached, the night vision allowed me to see the interior of the building. Everything appeared orderly. Whatever the locals were doing when the virus hit, they apparently hadn’t been inside.

  Reaching a pair of glass doors, I paused and stared inside. Nothing was moving. There were a dozen rows of merchandise, as well as glass fronted chillers stocked with beverages. A small register area was right next to the doors. I could see a display for road atlases.

  Signing for Rachel and Sam to stay put, I gently tugged on the door. It didn’t budge, which surprised me. The people here had enough advance warning to lock up and leave. Maybe because the area was so isolated.

  Taking a step back, I fired a couple of bursts from the suppressed rifle through the safety glass in the door. The entire pane shattered but was held in place by the layer of tough plastic. I kicked it out and paused long enough to make sure there wasn’t an infected inside the building that was coming to greet me. Still seeing nothing, I stepped through, snatched an atlas off the counter and ducked back out into the night.

  “Light to the east, on top of the ridge.”

  Long’s voice over the radio jolted me, and I spun to look in the direction he’d indicated. The cover over the gas pumps blocked my view, and I quickly moved to an area that had a clear line of sight. And didn’t see anything. I waited a few seconds, scanning back and forth, but couldn’t spot it.

  “Negative visual,” I said, not taking my eyes off the ridge.

  “It’s gone now,” he replied. “Only saw it for a few seconds. Series of quick flashes, then it went dark.”

  I turned around and looked to the west. Half expected to see an answering signal, but after nearly a minute of watching I turned back to the east.

  “Let’s move,” I mumbled to Rachel and Sam.

  We hustled back to the waiting vehicles. Igor had taken the sniper rifle I had been using at Groom Lake and was peering through the thermal scope at the ridgeline to the east.

  “See anything?” I asked, stepping up next to him.

  “Nyet,” he said without taking his eye away from the scope.

  I checked to the west again, then turned a slow circle, looking for anything that was out of place in the barren moonscape of the Nevada desert. Nothing.

  “We’d better get on the road,” I said, not liking the situation even one little bit.

  We all climbed into our vehicles, the engines starting in near unison. Hitting the throttle, I led the way onto the road that headed south to Vegas.

  “Keep your eyes on the desert,” I said to Rachel, glancing over my shoulder at the ridge. “Don’t worry about the road. If we’re going to have a problem, it’ll come from the sides.”

  By now we were at maximum speed, barely over 60 miles an hour.

  “Think it’s Russians?” Rachel asked, her head slowly traversing across the surrounding terrain.

  “Possible, but I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head. “With that broadcast, I think we’ve found some survivors, and I think they’ve found us.”

  Rachel glanced at me for a brief second, then resumed her scan of the surrounding terrain.

  “Long. Copy?” I called on the radio.

  “Go.”

  “Have your passenger see if he can raise the rest of our party on the radio. Tell him to use his native tongue and speak to the blonde woman. Warn them of probable hostiles in the area.”

  “Copy that,” he replied a moment later.

  “You think they’re listening in?” Rachel asked.

  “Not going to take the chance,” I said.

  Rachel nodded and didn’t say anything else. Dog, picking up on our tension, had his nose pressed against the side window behind Rachel, staring out into the darkness. I was opening my mouth to ask her to reach back and slide the window open so he could smell the night air when a loud bang sounded on the window right next to my head.

  “Taking fire!”

  I shouted on the radio and pressed harder on the accelerator. The damn pedal was already tight to the floor. There was the sound of another impact somewhere on my side of the vehicle.

  “What the hell is that?” Rachel shouted, wildly looking around.

  “Bullets!”

  I began cranking the wheel, whipping the ungainly Humvee back and forth across th
e highway. Hopefully, this would make it harder for the sniper to zero in.

  “I’m taking fire, too!”

  Sam’s voice over the radio, then a second later Long confirmed he was being shot at. As I continued to try and make us a more difficult target, a part of my brain acknowledged that whoever was shooting at us was one hell of a shot. A vehicle moving at 60 miles an hour, at night, and he’d put a round directly on my side window. If it wasn’t for the additional armor, he’d have taken my head off.

  “Got movement!”

  I looked at Rachel, then through her side window. A couple of hundred yards away, a jacked up Chevy pickup was racing across the desert on an intercept course with us. It was running blacked out, and I couldn’t tell if the driver had night vision or was just winging it in the moonlight.

  “Contact at my three!” I shouted over the radio. “Long, tell Igor to take them out!”

  “Copy,” came a quick response.

  It was only seconds later when the Chevy suddenly swerved hard to its left. The front tires dug into the soft sand, then it went airborne and cartwheeled several times, disappearing in a huge cloud of dust. Igor must have shot out a front tire with the rifle.

  “Contact on Sam!” Came over the radio almost immediately. “Two vehicles on my six, closing fast.”

  “I’m slowing! Change places!” Long called.

  In the rearview, I saw Sam swerve into the oncoming lane and stay there, the nose of Long’s Hummer dipping as he hit the brakes. He was positioning himself for Igor to fire on the pursuing vehicles, but I couldn’t watch. Ahead, a large truck completely blocked the road.

  11

  The Governor of Hawaii stood at the entrance to a massive tunnel cut into the side of Mt. Kaala. He was accompanying a young Navy Commander named Meghan Glass. She had been assigned by Admiral Packard to coordinate defensive efforts with the civilian authorities.

  Mt. Kaala is the highest point on the island of Oahu, near the western edge of the island. On the eastern base is Schofield Barracks, an Army base. The west side slopes down to the northwestern beaches and is heavily forested with tropical vegetation.