Fulcrum: V Plague Book 12

by Dirk Patton

  With Barinov in their custody, they would bring him back to the North Carolina. Once aboard the sub, they were to convince him to order all Russian forces to stand down. Admiral Packard had personally spoken with the Commander leading the SEAL team, ensuring he understood that success in his mission was the only concern. The Russian president had to be convinced to cooperate. By any means necessary.

  “What do you think their odds are?” Packard mused as the helicopter gained elevation to reach the top of Mt. Kaala.

  “Honestly, sir, if I was a betting man, I’d have to put money on them failing.”

  “Why?”

  Packard was of the same opinion but was curious what the younger man was thinking. He turned when there wasn’t an immediate reply, correctly reading his aide’s expression.

  “That’s a sincere question, Commander. Not a trap.”

  He tried to smile, but the weight of everything that was pressing in on him killed it before it started.

  “Well, sir,” the man began, then took a deep breath. “There’s Russian Spetsnaz pulling security all over that neighborhood. They’ve got three distinct, concentric rings of protection set up around the building. Over two hundred of their best troops.”

  The man paused, watching the Admiral to make sure he wasn’t overstepping his bounds. Packard nodded encouragement for him to continue.

  “Then there are the Aussies. Barinov apparently put a good scare into their PM. He has their Navy guarding the entrance to the harbor and patrolling all of the bays. Assuming Fulcrum Team can get past them, undetected, there’s a large contingent of SASR troopers on the ground.

  “I’m sure part of their task is to keep an eye on the Russians, but they’re also going to protect them. There’s no doubt they have orders to assist and support the Spetsnaz if there’s an attempt on any of the high-ranking Russians living in the area.

  “So, no sir. I don’t like their odds one bit. But, if there’s anyone that can do it, it’s these guys. They’re the best. A little bit of luck and they just might pull it off.”

  Packard nodded in thought. The Commander had voiced the same concerns he had, nearly word for word. His attention was pulled away as the Seahawk slowed and came into a hover.

  Looking through the window in the side door, he could see the antique fortifications on top of the mountain. Workers crawled over nearly every square foot, hacking off dense vegetation which was then dragged away.

  Several of the gun emplacements were already cleared, exposed to the sun for the first time in decades. Each location was a ring that had once housed massive shore defense batteries. Now, they were nothing more than six-foot tall, concrete walls that were permanently stained black by the mold and algae that flourished in the tropical environment.

  Two of the cleared rings were hives of activity as crews completed the installation and testing of anti-aircraft missile systems. Several tall barrels, part of an artillery unit, thrust into the sky from a third. There were many more rings to clear, and in the distance, the Admiral could see several heavy-lift helicopters approaching the mountain. Hanging beneath each were more missile systems and big artillery guns.

  “Take me to the entrance,” Packard said to the pilot over the intercom.

  The helicopter immediately banked away, slipping down the eastern slope. In the valley below sprawled Schofield Barracks. A long line of trucks stretched down the side of the mountain into the Army base as men, supplies and munitions were transported up the primitive road.

  “Nowhere to land, sir.” The pilot’s voice came over the intercom as he brought them into another hover.

  Beneath, a truck disappeared into the mountain as it entered the large mouth of a tunnel. Packard watched as three more followed, then saw two men walk out of the entrance and look up at the helicopter.

  “Sir, that’s Colonel Blanchard below us. He’s on the radio asking if you’d like a tour.”

  Packard hesitated. He was sorely tempted. Wanted to see the progress in their preparations. But his presence would add nothing. In fact, it would be a distraction, and the last thing anyone needed right now was another distraction.

  “Thank him for me,” the Admiral finally said. “But tell him I’m needed elsewhere. Let’s go back to Pearl.”

  “Aye, aye sir,” the pilot answered.

  A moment later the big helicopter spun and headed south, following the eastern slope of the mountain range.

  17

  “What the hell,” I muttered, bringing the Humvee to a stop.

  I spared a glance in the mirror to make sure Long wasn’t about to crash into the vehicle’s rear end, glad to see him pulling to a stop a few yards behind. We had reached the northern edge of Vegas. For the past few miles, I’d had to lower our speed to negotiate abandoned cars and trucks that dotted the freeway. Following the signs, I’d taken the exit marked for Nellis Air Force Base and had only traveled a few miles on a surface street along the perimeter fence. Now, we sat in the darkness as I stared at a hive of activity and a huge group of infected.

  The activity was on the other side of the tall, chain link fence that surrounded the base. An even dozen trucks were lined up alongside a series of squat buildings that were immediately recognizable as armories. All of the vehicles had their lights on, and half a dozen portable, generator powered floodlights were set up. The entire area was lit like it was mid-day.

  At least a thousand infected were pressing against the fence. Pushing in. Screaming. The females trying to climb over to reach the uninfected humans on the other side. A couple of dozen men were watching them, frequently shooting into the heaving mass of bodies.

  But, these weren’t Air Force personnel. They had found fully automatic rifles, and were shooting down the climbers with long bursts, burning through full magazines to put down a single female. The sound of their firing was loud on the still, night air, and, I had no doubt, was carrying for a long distance. Checking the immediate area, I stepped out when I saw it was clear. Dog followed quickly, Rachel getting out the far side a few moments later.

  “What are we doing?” Rachel asked, turning to watch Dog as he trotted to the closest bush.

  “Those idiots are making enough noise to raise the dead,” I said.

  “And the lights, too. Bad idea,” Sam said as he came to stand next to me.

  “Long,” I said when he and Igor joined us. “You two keep an eye out. There’s going to be infected attracted to all that activity. Let’s not get caught with our dicks hanging out.”

  Long nodded and stepped away as Igor climbed onto the roof of their Hummer and began scanning the surrounding area with the scope on the sniper rifle.

  “Think they got in?”

  Sam was referring to the armories. They’re built tough because of what they house.

  “They’re in, or are confident they’re going to get in,” I said. “Either way, they got their hands on some military hardware, somehow. They didn’t pick up full auto rifles at the local Walmart.”

  He nodded as another long, chattering burst of fire sounded.

  “Think this is the group those guys we talked to are from?” Rachel asked.

  I shrugged, then turned and walked over to Igor’s Hummer and scrambled onto the roof with him. He handed over the rifle when I asked. I extended the bipod legs and peered through the high-power scope. A few adjustments and I had a crisp, close-up view of the goings on inside the air base. The optics were top-notch, good enough for me to see individual faces clearly.

  First, I looked over the group that was defending the fence. Definitely not Air Force. They were wearing a variety of military surplus and civilian camouflage clothing, some with their features darkened with face paint sticks. Like that would do one bit of good in helping them hide from an infected.

  Most were seated on the lowered tailgates of pickups, and as I watched, cans of beer were being passed from a large cooler. Moving on, I scanned down the line of idling trucks nearer the armories.

  These
weren’t civilian pickups. They were Deuce and a Halfs, painted in Air Force blue. So they’d found the motor pool. I was a little surprised to see them. The military had been transitioning to a replacement truck, called the LMTV, for well over a decade, but here they were.

  A driver sat behind the wheel of each truck. Half a dozen guards were strolling up and down the side of the convoy closest to me. I took a few moments to look carefully, noting they were all armed with military issue rifles. A couple of them wore honest to God bandoliers of ammo, trying to look like Rambo. Instead, they looked fucking ridiculous.

  Moving on, I focused on a small group gathered around the entrance to one of the armories. The door was off its hinges, lying on the ground a few yards away. It was heavily damaged, the way a high-security door that has been forced open with explosives is damaged.

  The group of men standing at the opening looked like they were waiting for someone or something. Curious, I kept the scope focused on them and watched.

  “What’s up?” Sam asked from below.

  “Looks like some sort of half-assed militia,” I said without taking my eye away from the scope. “They’ve got at least one armory open, and I'm guessing their leaders are inside deciding what they want to take. Got a group just standing around, like they’re waiting to be told what to go get. There're twelve Deuce and a Halfs waiting to be loaded, so they’re planning on taking a lot.”

  Sam grunted as he thought about the information.

  “What’s the Air Force going to have in an armory?” He asked after a long pause.

  “Not sure,” I said. “Probably not what you and I are used to, but they’re still going to have a lot of shit. Base defense in a combat zone means a lot of rifles and ammo. Probably a good amount of light and heavy machine guns. And no doubt some SAMs (Surface to Air Missiles) for protecting the airspace. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”

  Sam kept speaking, but I wasn’t listening. A small group had just emerged from the armory, the woman in the lead drawing all my attention.

  Neither young nor old, she was probably somewhere around my age. Well-fitting jeans were bloused into a pair of highly polished jump boots. A brown, Army issue T-shirt was stretched tightly over her large breasts. Thick, brown hair flowed down to mid-back. Appearing tall, I had to admit, she cut a stunning figure as she stood speaking to the group of men.

  But what caught my eye was a web belt cinched tightly around her narrow waist. On each hip, it supported a holstered, pearl handled Colt .45, just like the man I’d interrogated had described when he told me about The General.

  Watching her stand there and issue orders to the waiting men, I could believe she had spent some time in uniform. Her demeanor and bearing as she addressed her underlings weren’t those of a civilian. She was accustomed to giving orders and having them followed. Not that she couldn’t have attracted plenty of men to do her bidding with just her looks, and perhaps that was why they had first joined her, but she wasn’t using her femininity to control them.

  “Found The General,” I said, still watching the woman.

  “Seriously?” Sam asked.

  “Yep. Climb up and take a look.”

  I rested the rifle’s stock on the roof and slithered down the windshield as Sam scampered up the back. He was quickly in place, and it didn’t take him long to spot the woman. Watching for a few moments, he let out a low whistle before passing the weapon to Igor.

  “What?” Rachel asked.

  “Let’s just say she doesn’t fit the mold of what you think of when someone calls her The General,” I said.

  Rachel looked at me for a beat, then Sam when he jumped down next to me with a grin on his face. After a short time, she rolled her eyes and turned around to check on Dog.

  “OK,” I said to Sam and waved Long in. “We don’t have time to screw around with this. Need to get on the road. We’re way outnumbered with just what I can see. We’ll bypass the base and cut through the desert to avoid the city, then pick up the highway south of town. Hopefully, the bridge is still standing.”

  They nodded, and I headed for my vehicle. Rachel and Dog were standing near the back, waiting for me. Before I climbed in, I looked over my shoulder to make sure the rest of the group was ready to roll. Igor had climbed down and was having an animated conversation with Long. Apparently, he was describing The General as he was holding cupped hands in front of his chest as he spoke.

  “Not sure I want to know how they talk about me,” Rachel said as she got into the Hummer.

  “They’ll never talk about you like that,” I said, shifting into gear and turning the wheel to accelerate away from the base.

  “Why not? Because of you?”

  I shook my head as I steered us onto our new course.

  “No. Because you’re one of them, now. You’ve fought with them. Bled with them. Sure, they’ll notice you’re a woman, but you’re their sister now. Anyone messes with you, you’ll have a whole bunch of big brothers with bad attitudes defending your honor.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Rachel sounded like she didn’t believe me, but I didn’t say anything else. Finally, she turned to look at me. I met her eyes briefly and nodded. She was quiet for a long time, staring out her window at the dark landscape.

  “Is that how you see me? Your sister?” She asked after several more miles had passed.

  I wasn’t ready for that question.

  “I… It’s just… I don’t know what to say to you,” I stammered.

  My heart ached over the loss of Katie. I’ve lost a lot of people I cared about over the years, but nothing compared to this. It was only through sheer determination and the burning need for vengeance that I was up and moving, not curled into a ball with a bottle in my hand.

  “I’m sorry,” Rachel said softly when I didn’t say anything else.

  She reached across and gently rubbed my arm before placing her hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t look at her. Didn’t want her to see the tears in my eyes.

  18

  From the Air Force Base, we stayed to the east of Las Vegas. There were plenty of roads through the area, but if they weren’t clogged with wrecked vehicles, they were thick with milling infected. For a short time, we were able to move out into the desert, but soon reached a series of low, rocky hills that fronted a small mountain range. They were impassible with the Humvees. I had to call a halt when we came to a point where there weren’t any infected in the immediate area.

  Telling Long and Sam to sit tight, I pushed the NVGs off my eyes and took the map from Rachel. Turning on the flashlight with the red cellophane covering the lens, I started trying to find our approximate location. As I was poring over the map, Dog woke up and thrust his head into the front.

  It took me a couple of minutes, but I figured out where we were, then looked over our options. I didn’t like the idea of continuing south, even though we were skirting the metropolitan area. There were just too many residential areas to pass through, and they all butted up against the base of the hills. If we ran into a problem, say a herd too big to push through, our options would be limited to retreating, or turning west into the city.

  I didn’t doubt the accuracy of the intel I’d gotten from our prisoner. He’d said the city was jammed with abandoned vehicles and roaming infected. This fit with every other city I’d seen, so I was comfortable with taking him at his word.

  What I did know was I had no desire to approach the more densely built-up and populated areas. A road that headed due east, crossing the mountains before turning south towards Lake Mead, caught my eye. We had already passed it and would have to backtrack a couple of miles, but I decided it was worth it. On the map, at least, it appeared to go through the middle of nowhere. Perfect for avoiding infected.

  Handing the map book back to Rachel, I turned off the light, lowered my NVGs and filled in Long and Sam over the radio. Making a U-turn, I led the way back north and turned east onto Lake Mead Boulevard. Quickly, we began climbing, leaving
any sign of civilization behind.

  The road was in good shape, relatively smooth, and ran straight as it climbed. On either side of the asphalt were fairly steep slopes of sun-blasted sand and rock, only the occasional cactus breaking up the monotony. As we progressed, a sense of unease settled over me. Soon I was scanning the passing terrain with the night vision, paying more attention to it than the road in front of me.

  “What’s wrong?” Rachel asked.

  “Nothing, really,” I said. “Just don’t like being bottled up like this. Perfect place for an ambush if someone was so inclined.”

  She nodded without saying anything. After another moment, Sam’s voice sounded in my earpiece.

  “Not liking this terrain,” he said.

  “Agreed,” I answered.

  “How far to the crest?”

  “Maybe another three or four miles,” I said, picturing the map in my head.

  “Copy.”

  The radio fell silent at that point, and I pressed harder on the accelerator. It didn’t do any good. We were climbing a steep grade as we approached the pass that was in a saddle between two jagged peaks, and the Humvee was already moving as fast as it could. I didn’t bother to glance at the speedometer. There was no point.

  “There!” Rachel cried, her arm extending towards a point near the top.

  I had seen it too. A brief flash of light. Very brief.

  Now was decision time. Did we stop? Turn around? Press ahead and trust in the Humvees’ armor? I made the decision without hesitating. You never knowingly drive into an ambush unless you already know what’s waiting for you and are prepared to overwhelm your attackers. We had no information and no weapons other than rifles and pistols.

  Calling a warning on the radio, I hit the brakes and brought us to a quick stop. Long and Sam, both experienced warriors, kept some distance between us this time. If you’re about to be attacked, bunching up just makes it easier for the enemy and hinders your ability to turn a vehicle around and get the hell out of the area.