by Dirk Patton
“I understand, Captain. And I can assure you that Admiral Packard does as well. But, here’s the situation.”
The SEAL talked for several minutes, providing details that weren’t in Talbot’s orders. He briefed him on the last ditch effort to capture Russian president Barinov and force him to call off the invasion fleet before they landed in Hawaii.
Talbot listened carefully, a grim expression on his face as he thought about what might happen to his daughters if the Russians succeeded in defeating the defenders and capturing the islands.
“Are you planning to bring Barinov back aboard when you capture him?”
“Yes, we are. We need to be able to control the environment, and will need to use your comm gear once we break him.”
“What if you can’t break him?” Talbot asked.
“We’ll get him to cooperate,” the SEAL growled. “My only concern is the tight schedule. We’re going to reach point Alpha off the Australian coast in just over 32 hours. That leaves us roughly eight hours to make it to shore, capture Barinov and bring him back to the North Carolina. Any longer than that and the Russians will be sipping Mai Tais in the sand on Waikiki.”
Talbot leaned back in his chair in thought, then turned and picked up a sound powered phone. He ordered his XO, Executive Officer, to join him in his quarters. Less than a minute later there was a knock on the door, and he called out permission to enter.
Lieutenant Commander Adrienne Cable stepped into the room and softly closed the door behind her. She was the first woman to ever become the XO of an American nuclear submarine, and despite the doubts of the crew, had managed to fit in very well. Every bit as sharp and determined as her skipper, she had been at the top of her class at Annapolis and continued to impress him with her logical mind and nearly encyclopedic knowledge of every system on the boat.
Talbot introduced her to the SEAL, then spent a couple of minutes bringing her up to speed. He didn’t fail to notice how the man looked at her, but would deal with that outside her presence. She was a naval officer, the XO of the boat, and he was going to make damn sure that was clear to the SEAL. He wasn’t going to tolerate any lack of respect.
“So, XO, the Commander here is going to be on a very tight clock once he and his team lockout. Alpha Point is fifty miles from the entrance to Sydney Harbour. I was thinking that perhaps we could get him a bit closer and cut down their transit time in the RIBs. Thoughts?”
Adrienne opened the secure iPad that was her constant companion and began tapping on the screen. A few seconds later, she leaned forward and laid it flat on Talbot’s desk. On the screen was a navigational chart, the broad opening to the harbor at the extreme edge.
“Point Alpha is here,” she said, tapping a spot in the ocean directly east of Sydney. “It’s the last deep water before the seabed rises dramatically. At Alpha, we’ve got 2,500 meters of water. Move closer by ten miles, and we lose half of that. 1,200 meters. Another 10 miles, 346 meters and it just keeps getting worse until we reach the mouth of the harbor.”
She tapped on the point, and the iPad displayed the depth. 30 meters.
“If the Aussies, or Russians, are conducting any ASW sweeps, they’ll find us. And there’s nowhere to go deep if we need to run.”
She was referring to Anti-Submarine Warfare.
“So you’re saying you can’t get closer,” the SEAL grumbled, leaning back.
“I didn’t say that at all,” Adrienne locked eyes with him. “I was just explaining the situation to the Captain. We’ve operated in shallower water than this in the… well, never mind where. Anyways, with the skipper’s permission, I’ll park this big bitch right here, in the middle of Bate Bay. And, unless they get really lucky, the Aussies will never know we’re there.”
She touched a point on the map just to the south of the harbor entrance. A semi-circular bay cut into the coastline, and if the SEALs disembarked there, it would take them less than ten minutes to sail the RIBs around the headland and enter Sydney Harbour.
“That would save us at least three hours, maybe more, depending on the sea state,” the SEAL said, leaning closer to the iPad.
“Agreed,” Adrienne said, smiling for the first time. “And if we get spotted, which we won’t, but if we do it’s a straight run to deep water.”
She traced a path to the southeast with a perfectly manicured nail. Talbot followed her finger with his eyes, then looked up.
“Thank you, XO. Have a plot ready for my review in half an hour.”
“Aye, aye sir,” Adrienne snapped, picked up the iPad and quickly departed.
“She’s something else,” the SEAL said when the door closed.
“What she is, is a naval officer and the XO of this boat. I would advise you to not lose sight of either of those facts, Commander.”
“Captain?”
“Don’t play dumb, Commander. I saw your expression when she walked in. You don’t like a woman in command.”
“Not at all, Captain,” the SEAL said, a surprised look on his face. “You’ve got me wrong. I was simply wondering if she’s married.”
24
We stood in shock, staring at the impossibly massive plume of water pouring through the gaping hole in the top of the dam. A heavy mist was created as it rushed past the shattered concrete and fell 700 feet to the canyon floor. That mist quickly soaked us to the skin, as if we were out in a pouring rain.
I could hear the Yak fighter, circling overhead, but at the moment knew that we were safe. There was so much water vapor saturating the air all around the dam, there was no way he could see us. Not even with thermal imaging. For the moment, we were safe.
The roar of the lake emptying itself was tremendous, and the ground vibrated from the impact of millions of tons of water as it struck the rocks below. The sound was intense, completely enveloping us in its embrace. It was mesmerizing, watching the raw power of the water.
Tiffany was crying, and started to move closer to the dam, but Rachel grabbed her and pulled her into her arms. There was another crack, loud enough to be heard over the pounding roar. I couldn’t see anything through the heavy mist, but suspected another piece of the top of the dam had been torn away by the unimaginable force of the water.
I looked up as the Russian jet screamed overhead again, sounding much lower this time. He was trying to find another target. We were still in the cloud of mist, getting a steady drenching, but I urged the girls into a run, wanting to reach some cover before he decided to start blindly shooting up the whole area.
“Are here?” Igor’s voice over the radio startled me.
Rachel also had a radio earpiece, and by the look of surprise on her face I could tell she’d heard the transmission.
“Igor! You big Russian bastard! You’re OK?” I shouted as we ran.
“Da. Who with you?”
“Sam didn’t make it. He was on the section that broke free. Is Long with you?”
“Nyet. No. Sam lead. Long follow. I no see Sam go over. Dam broke right in front me after missile strike. Long and Humvee fall. I stop and go reverse.”
By now we had reached the relative safety of a jumble of massive boulders that overlooked the road leading to the dam. We worked our way in, and I looked up involuntarily as the Yak fighter passed overhead again. At least I think it was the same jet. Maybe there was a whole squadron of them up there. I looked around to see Rachel telling Tiffany that Igor had survived.
“Ask him who’s with him!” Tiffany cried, hope blooming on her face.
“Igor. Who do you have with you?”
“Caleb, Chelsea, and girl name Sara. Who with you?”
Tiffany slumped against a boulder in relief when Rachel told her who else had made it.
“Rachel, Dog and Tiffany,” I answered. “What’s your status?”
“Vehicle good. Not injured. What we do?”
“We wait for that goddamn jet to leave. After that, I don’t know yet. Stand by.”
I thought about his question fo
r a minute. Lake Mead was huge, stretching for more than forty miles to the east and north. Then there was a little thing called the Grand Canyon. It would take days, probably close to a week with current conditions, for him to circle around and reach our location.
The Yak flew over again, the bellow of its engines loud, echoing in the canyon. Amazingly, it was clearly audible even above the all-enveloping rumble of water pouring out of the lake.
“What the hell happened?” Rachel asked, pushing wet hair out of her eyes.
“Goddamn Russian fighter,” I said, pointing at the sky. “Fucker put a couple of missiles into the dam. It sounded like it was in trouble, and those munitions just finished it off.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Hold on,” I said, cocking my head to listen.
The roar of the water was loud, but I could no longer hear jet engines. Maybe the pilot had gained altitude or moved into a wider orbit. Or maybe, if luck was with us, he was low on fuel and had been forced to head home.
“Igor,” I called on the radio. “Can you hear the fighter?”
“Nyet,” he replied after almost a minute. “Think he gone.”
“OK. Get your ass back to where we came from. He’ll be back, or he’s put out a radio call, and others will be coming.”
“What you do? I come to you!”
“You can’t,” I said.
He was quiet for a long pause. I stood there and stared at the water still pouring over the dam. Thinking. Glancing to my right, I checked the level of the lake. Despite how much had already rushed through the breach, it wasn’t noticeably lower. Of course, there was so much water in the reservoir, it would take a long time for enough to drain out to have a significant impact.
“Negative, Igor. Get out of the area as fast as you can before more fighters or helicopters show up. There’s no way for you to get to me with the flooding.”
“What you do?” He repeated.
Turning around, I checked the parking lot where tourists would leave their cars when visiting the dam. It was empty. Closer was a secured area where employees could park, but the fence had been torn down, and there weren’t any vehicles in the lot. Rachel, hearing both sides of the conversation with Igor, was watching me expectantly.
“We’re stuck,” I said to Rachel after several minutes. “This is a damn big, desolate part of the southwest. It’s been a few years since I’ve driven between Phoenix and Vegas, but there’s only one road. The one we’re standing on. And it’s at least 30 miles south before there’s a goddamn thing other than rocks and cactus.”
“So what’s there? We can walk 30 miles in a few hours.”
“Tiny little wide spot in the road,” I said. “Can’t even remember the name. Nothing but a gas station and a few mobile homes. I do remember that it’s the only place to get gas for a long way in either direction.”
“Igor,” I said into the radio.
“I here.”
“We’re walking. There’s a small town to the south. We’ll pick up a vehicle there and continue on.”
He was quiet for several seconds, and I suspected he didn’t like having to turn around any more than I would have.
“I go south. Follow river.”
“Negative,” I said, shaking my head. “Listen to me. You need to return to where we left the others. The only way around the flooding would be to go west to the coast, then turn south. That’s a lot of heavily populated area. Probably lots of infected.”
The southern California coast was pretty much one big metropolis from Santa Barbara, through LA and San Diego to the Mexican border. And just on the other side of that border was Tijuana, which had a population of nearly two million before the attacks. No, there was no way anyone was going to make it through all of that mess.
“Da,” he said resignedly, after a very long pause. “We go back. Dos Vedanya.”
“Be careful and good luck,” I said, wishing there was a way to get him across the canyon.
I turned and looked at my companions. Rachel was watching me, through tangled, dripping hair. Tiffany was seated on a wet rock, her arms wrapped around Dog’s thick neck. His head was lowered and pressed against her chest as she hugged him close.
The earlier relief over the news that Caleb was alive had been replaced with tears. I was sure she was thinking about her teammates that had been lost. At the moment, I would have been happy to sit down and hug Dog, too. Lose myself for a while in mourning over the loss of Katie, Sam and Long and the girls. But I didn’t have that luxury. Maybe once I’d exacted vengeance from Barinov.
“Time to move,” I said to Tiffany.
“Where?” She looked up without releasing Dog.
“We’re walking south. There’s a small town, and I hope we can find a car.”
“What if the Russians show up?” Rachel asked, standing.
“I don’t think they’re going to be worried about three people walking across the desert,” I said, hoping I was right. “They probably spotted the Humvees and attacked because they’re US military vehicles.”
“If you’re wrong?” Tiffany asked.
I looked at her and shook my head. On foot, in open terrain, there would be nothing we could do if Russian aircraft took an interest in us. But we couldn’t stay where we were. Finally, I shrugged and gestured towards the road. Slowly, she removed her arms from Dog’s neck, sniffed and wiped her eyes. Without another word, she stood up and followed as I led the way.
25
We’d been walking for a couple of hours, and none of us were in the mood for conversation. I was setting a fast pace, one I hoped was averaging out to about five miles an hour. The farther we got from the dam, the better I was feeling. Not that an aircraft couldn’t easily range the few miles we’d covered and find us, but if the Russians were coming back, I strongly suspected they’d be looking for vehicles.
Still, I kept a sharp ear out for the sounds of approaching aircraft. I’d already prepared the girls on what to do if I heard one. On either side of the road was open desert with large tracts of barren desert between occasional outcroppings of rock. If I gave the word, we were going to do our best to burrow into the sand, hoping it would block enough of our heat signature from Russian thermal imaging that we would be overlooked. It was a desperate measure, and probably wouldn’t work, but it was all I had.
It was still dark, which was a good thing. Even though it was well into fall, it could still get very warm in the Arizona deserts. We didn’t have any water or food, or much of anything for that matter. Our packs had been in the Humvees, along with all of our provisions and medical supplies. And spare ammo, which was another concern. After the battle with the females, I was down to two full magazines and a partial. Rachel had less than two, and Tiffany only had ten rounds total. We weren’t in good shape if we had to fight.
The only good news was that none of us were burdened with the weight of a pack, and we were making good time. Getting to a vehicle quickly was a very real concern. The clock was ticking for the pilot, and now for us. We had to worry about the enemy returning. And getting caught out in the middle of the day with no shelter and nothing to drink.
The night was cool, and we were doing OK without water, though I’d have loved a tall, cold beer about now. A real beer. Ice cold with a nice golden glow and a frothy head. None of this bohemian, hipster micro-brew shit that had become so popular. Or the flavored crap like blueberry or, God help me here, root beer. What the hell was wrong with a beer that tasted like beer? That made you spit it out when you were a teenager and got your first taste? You want fruity flavors, buy a goddamn soda pop.
“How much farther is it?” Tiffany asked.
Her question startled me out of my thoughts. Maybe thinking about beer wasn’t the most productive use of my mind, but it beat the hell out of dwelling on the deaths of people I cared about. I’d been down that road before and knew it wasn’t a good thing to keep thinking about. Sure, I will always remember the people I’ve lost. B
ut concentrating on them is distracting, and will eventually result in compromised decision making because you’re afraid of losing someone else.
That’s fine, if you’re not a Soldier. I suppose it’s good, in fact. But when you’re in combat, the lower risk decision is rarely the correct one. Things have to be done, and if you’re all knotted up worrying about sending someone into harm’s way, you’re not doing your job as a leader.
“Something like 20 miles,” I answered. “Maybe another four or five hours.”
Despite the toughness the young woman had already displayed, I expected her to complain. Whine that she was tired, or her feet hurt, or she was hungry or thirsty. She didn’t do any of that. Simply nodded and kept plodding right along, matching me stride for stride with her much shorter legs.
Rachel was on the far side of her, and she met my eyes with a grin. That little smirk conveyed her message perfectly. I smiled at her and turned back to the front, scanning across the barren landscape for threats. I saw nothing other than a perfectly straight ribbon of asphalt and empty desert. Dog walked beside me, ears at full mast and nose in the air as he, too, kept watch.
Starting to think about beer again, I forced myself to focus on the situation at hand. If there wasn’t a vehicle in the little town ahead, we were pretty much screwed. There were a couple more, tiny outposts of civilization farther south, but the closest one was at least another forty miles beyond our destination. Probably even farther, as I hadn’t driven this highway in a long time and was working off of memory. The map had been in the Humvee Sam was driving.
But I had to think positively. There would be a vehicle in the first town we reached, and it would have gas. And I’d be able to get it started. I regretted not having taken the opportunity to have Long teach me how to hotwire a car. In the end, it hadn’t been exactly difficult to start the Ford truck Rachel and I had used to escape from Atlanta, but I also knew I’d gotten lucky. It was a several generation old model and didn’t have any built in anti-theft features.
Moving past those concerns, I thought about the route we’d take to get to the pilot. I knew the area well enough not to need a map. It was fairly straightforward, and the only part of it that concerned me was skirting the Phoenix metropolitan area. Maybe it would be free of infected, or it could be overrun. Only one way to find out.