Fulcrum: V Plague Book 12

by Dirk Patton

  Then I remembered that we’d pass very close to Luke Air Force Base on the west side of the city. Whatever we found that would get us that far, we could make a stop and switch to another Humvee, and hopefully, replenish the ammo and supplies that we’d lost. Thinking about the air base, another idea occurred to me.

  “Tiffany, you don’t know how to fly a plane, do you?”

  At this point, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d said she was a pilot and could fly anything in the Air Force inventory. But, I never get that lucky. She just looked at me and shook her head.

  We kept walking. One foot in front of the other. Maintaining our pace, and ignoring the complaints from our knees and ankles. Well, at least mine were complaining. I had no idea about Rachel and figured Tiffany was too young to have joint problems. Regardless, I sucked it up and walked.

  Half a mile later, I came to a sudden stop and held up my hand to tell the girls to remain quiet. Turning my head from side to side, I was able to hear the occasional roar of a jet engine. It was distant, fading in and out as the plane changed perspective to my position.

  Closing my eyes, I focused on the noise. It was coming from the direction of the dam and sounded like at least two different aircraft were in an orbit. More jets had probably arrived and were searching.

  “Russians?” Rachel asked, moving next to me and staring to the north.

  “Has to be,” I said, looking to my left at the desert floor. “Let’s get ready, in case they come this way.”

  We moved onto the sand, each of us using our hands to scoop out holes in the shape of shallow graves. If the Russian fighters began approaching, we’d lay down in them and cover our bodies as best we could. I wasn’t worried about Dog. If they saw him on thermal, he’d look just like a coyote and wouldn’t draw any attention.

  The holes were dug quickly, and we each got on our knees, ready to dive into them as we listened. It seemed like it took forever, but eventually the noise of the jets faded away. It happened slowly, as if they were incrementally moving their search towards Vegas. I hoped Igor was driving like hell and could avoid the militia. And, even though they were Americans, part of me hoped the Russian fighters spotted the militia. They’d almost certainly take out all of their vehicles at a minimum.

  When several minutes had passed without me hearing the fighters, I got to my feet and headed for the pavement. Before I could reach the edge of the road, the beat of a helicopter rotor caught my attention. I whirled around and scanned in the direction of the sound, but couldn’t spot anything. Listening for a moment, I dashed for the hole I’d dug when I realized the noise was coming closer.

  “In your hole! Pull sand over your body, just like we talked about!”

  I shouted as I flopped onto my back and began using my arms to sweep piles of sand on top of myself. Dog, thinking it was a game, came and stood over my face. I had to push him away when he kept trying to lick me.

  Quickly covered in several inches of sand from the chest down, I craned my neck and checked on Rachel and Tiffany. They were both concealed as well as I was, and I lay my head back and shoveled some more until I was buried to my neck, then lay still. The rotor was still approaching, apparently following the road we had been walking on, transiting from north to south.

  As it drew closer, Dog came back to stand over my head. The view was less than pleasant as I stared up.

  “Dog, so help me, you piss on my head and I’ll cut your balls off,” I said.

  He turned and stuck his nose in my face, gave me a big, wet lick then lay down and plopped a big paw onto my forehead. Worming an arm free of the sand, I moved it off my face, scratched his neck briefly then put it back under cover.

  The rotor was growing loud, and I could now tell there were two helos coming our way. From the sound of them, both were Hinds, which was to be expected.

  “What do we do if they see us?” Tiffany called.

  “Stay behind him and do what he says,” Rachel answered before I could speak, and there wasn’t anything I could add to that.

  A minute later a pair of Mi-24s passed directly overhead. They were no more than 500 feet above the ground, and I got a good look at them through the night vision. They didn’t slow or deviate from their course, going right by and continuing south. I let out a sigh once they were another mile down the road.

  “Stay put,” I said to the girls. “They may turn back.”

  There was no response, but they didn’t get up. We stayed where we were, buried in the sand as the Russians flew far enough south to pass out of earshot. I didn’t think they’d go much farther. This had to feel like a futile search to the pilots, and I decided to give them ten more minutes before moving. Time was nearly expired when I picked up the sound of their rotors again. They were coming back.

  “They’re coming back!” Tiffany said, panic in her voice.

  “It’s OK,” I said, calmly. “They’re in a search pattern. They’ve gone as far south as they’re going to, now they’re heading back north. Nothing to worry about.”

  I don’t know if I made her feel any better, but she didn’t say anything else. Fortunately, I was right. A few minutes later they passed overhead again, heading north. This time, they were much higher and moving faster, apparently bored with searching an empty road and ready to head home. The only question I was left with was, where the hell were they operating out of?

  Dismissing that thought, I climbed out of the hole and started shaking sand out of my clothing. Rachel and Tiffany followed suit, without saying anything, and we quickly resumed our southerly trek.

  Two more hours passed in silence. Nothing but the sounds of our feet on the asphalt and Dog’s soft panting. The temperature suddenly dropped noticeably, going from cool to downright chilly. I knew this meant the sun would be rising soon, and glanced over my left shoulder to the east.

  The sky was just perceptibly lighter than it was directly overhead. We had maybe another forty minutes before the sun peeked over the mountain tops. When it did, the temperature was going to go up fast.

  I wasn’t really sure what month it was, but knew North America had settled into late fall/early winter. I tried to figure that out for a few minutes before giving up. Maybe Chelsea, with her mathematical mind, could tell me, but I’d been too busy running and fighting to worry about what the date was. All I knew, with any degree of certainty, was that it had been early summer when the attacks occurred.

  Trying to figure out the timeline based on everything that had occurred since turned out to be an exercise in futility. I finally gave up and guessed it was somewhere around late November. That made me think of a Thanksgiving meal, and my stomach rumbled long and loud. Tiffany looked at me and giggled. I made a face at her, seeing Rachel shake her head from the corner of my eye.

  Even though it wasn’t summer, the daytime temperatures in the open desert can easily reach 90 degrees Fahrenheit. If we were out in the sun for any extended period, the lack of water was going to become a serious problem. But that shouldn’t happen, I reminded myself. We had been walking for over four hours, and must have already covered 20 miles. That left ten to go, with less than that by sunrise. As long as we didn’t have to keep going to the next town, or get stalled hiding from Russians, we’d be fine.

  Realizing I’d fallen into a near trance as I walked, I silently cursed myself and took a long look at our surroundings. Everything looked exactly the same as it had since we’d left the dam. Sun blasted, barren desert. Not even a bush visible within the range of my night vision goggles.

  “Where do you think all those females came from?” Rachel broke the silence.

  “Probably Boulder City,” I said after thinking about it for a minute. “It’s a town that sprang up for the workers who built the dam. Not a big place, but the only population center in the area that I can think of.”

  “How’d they know we were there?” Tiffany asked.

  “They have hearing like a bat,” I said. “Most likely the noise of the veh
icles as we drove in. We were moving faster than they can, but once we’d been stopped for a while, they caught up.”

  Tiffany and Rachel came to a stop when a high pitched howl floated across the night air from somewhere to our right. Dog’s head snapped in that direction, but he didn’t react in any other way. When I realized he and I were walking alone, I stopped and turned around.

  “What the hell is that?” Rachel said, sounding spooked.

  “Coyote,” I said, trying not to smile. “They won’t bother us.”

  “They?” Tiffany asked, still frozen in place.

  “They run in packs,” I said. “Don’t worry. They aren’t going to mess with three adult humans and a big, furry dog.”

  Neither of them looked terribly convinced that we weren’t in imminent danger, and I had to coax them into resuming our trek. I didn’t fail to notice that they were both walking much closer to me than before, their rifles held tightly to their bodies as they nervously scanned our immediate surroundings.

  The coyote howled again. This time, an answering voice coming from the opposite side of the road. Soon the pack was yipping and singing all around us, and Rachel and Tiffany moved even closer. This continued for more than ten minutes, then they fell silent. It was probably a good thing the coyotes moved on as both girls were pretty freaked out by then.

  The eastern horizon had continued to lighten, and I pushed my night vision goggles away from my eyes. There was more than enough early light to see without them. The sun rose quickly, the way it tends to do in deserts. I caught a brief glint of light reflecting off something far in the distance, directly to our front. It was several miles away but almost had to be chrome or glass to have flashed as brightly as it did.

  Neither of the girls had seen it, and I kept the information to myself. I’d probably just seen the town that was our destination, but there was no guarantee that it was a vehicle that had caught the sun. It could just as easily have been the window of a mobile home. I didn’t want to get their hopes up.

  26

  The town was called White Hills. Calling it a town was being generous. The first thing we came to was an aging gas station that billed itself as the Last Stop. A small restaurant and a few pumps, and that was it. No vehicles. But, first things first. We needed to find some water.

  Dog and I carefully entered the building while Rachel and Tiffany kept watch outside. The instant I pulled the swinging door open, I was hit with the sickening stench of rotting corpses. Pausing, I gave Dog a moment to sniff the air. He didn’t growl, but I didn’t see any way he could scent an infected over the horrible smell of decomposition.

  The building didn’t have any windows, the exterior cinderblock walls painted with the likeness of flags from dozens of different nations. It was dark inside and, breathing through my mouth, I lowered the NVGs. I took my time scanning the interior.

  Females had been here. Nothing else tore through people the way they did. There were more than a dozen bodies scattered around the cramped space, sprays and splashes of blood decorating the walls, the floor almost completely covered with black stains where it had pooled and dried. The only thing missing was a seething mass of flies, feasting on the remains and spilled body fluids. I didn’t understand why they were absent but didn’t have time to give it any thought.

  Seeing and hearing nothing, I stepped into the structure, Dog tight against my leg. Behind us, the door sighed shut. Stepping over the dead, I was careful where I placed my feet. There might not be a swarm of insects, but I had no doubt that all variety of bacteria were thriving in the remains and on every surface. A simple mistake, like a misstep that caused me to stumble and cut myself, could very easily result in a fatal infection.

  There were a dozen vinyl upholstered booths lining the front wall, a scattering of tables filling the space between them and a long counter. Almost every piece of furniture was turned over, except for the counter stools which were bolted to the concrete floor. Behind the counter was a long grill, beyond that a swinging door that opened into what I suspected was a pantry.

  Hoping to find some bottled water, I stepped around the end of the counter and paused short of the door. Dog sniffed but remained silent. Exercising an abundance of caution, I whistled loudly, then waited with my rifle aimed at the door. A full minute later, nothing had come charging, so we went forward and pushed through.

  The food storage area was small, not really much more than an oversized closet. It only took a few seconds for me to see that it had been stripped bare. Nothing other than cheap plastic shelving remained. Cursing, I went back outside, pausing long enough to turn the valve on a sink, just in case the water was still on. It wasn’t.

  Turning it back off out of habit, I headed for the exit. Taking a deep breath when I reached fresh air, I shook my head when Rachel looked at me. She nodded, understanding my message.

  Behind the restaurant was another block building, garishly painted with childlike images of a green alien, a monster truck and a couple of belt-fed machine guns. A sun bleached sign advertised Grand Canyon monster truck tours and a shooting range where tourists could fire a real machine gun. Getting the girls’ attention, I pointed at it, and Dog and I started walking. They fell in behind, doing a good job of keeping an eye on our rear.

  The front door was a stout slab of steel, solidly locked into the surrounding walls. If I’d had a bit of C4, I would have used it, but that was another item lost in the Humvees. Circling around the building, I paused in surprise when I came up against a tall, solid fence. It was made of what looked like sheets of scrap iron and was at least 10 feet tall. Coils of barbed wire lined the top and there was a single, wide gate secured with a heavy chain and padlock.

  A quick check of Dog, who was alert but calm, and I stepped up and peeked through the gap in the center where the two sections of the gate met. There were only a couple of inches to see through, but that was enough to spot four huge pickups. They were all lifted ridiculously high, riding on massive tires and painted outlandish shades of purple, green and yellow.

  Telling Rachel and Tiffany to stay where they were, I led Dog around the perimeter of the fence, hoping to find an easy way in. There wasn’t, and that’s probably why it looked like no one had been inside. Going back to the gate, I stood in the sun for a moment, staring at the obstacle.

  There was no way to climb the smooth iron plates. And even if I could, the coils of barbed wire would be a problem. The chain was too thick to be broken with a bullet or grenade. Walking back to the front door, I checked it over again to make sure I hadn’t missed a weakness that I could exploit to gain entry. It was just as solid and impenetrable as the first time I’d looked.

  When I came back around the corner, Tiffany was standing at the gate, examining the padlock. She turned when she heard me coming.

  “Need to get through to get to those trucks, right?” She asked.

  I nodded.

  “Can I borrow your knife?”

  I looked at her for a moment before drawing the Ka-Bar, then pulled it back when she reached for it.

  “What are you going to do? It can’t cut through or break that lock.”

  I didn’t care if she wanted to try a crazy idea, I just didn’t want my knife damaged.

  “Trust me.”

  She smiled and held her hand out. After another pause, I extended the weapon, hilt first. She took it and without saying anything else, rushed to retrieve a plastic cup that was trapped in a small bush. Holding it against the fence, she pressed the blade against the metal and began slowly scraping down, towards its mouth. A fine powder of rust fell into the cup with each stroke.

  “What’s she doing?” Rachel asked, staring curiously as Tiffany kept working.

  “I think I know,” I said, smiling.

  “Yeah? So?”

  “Just wait,” I said.

  Rachel shook her head and checked the area around us before going back to watching Tiffany.

  The girl worked for several minutes, finally
stopping and looking into the cup. Apparently satisfied, she put it on a rock and started searching the ground. Spying what she wanted, she hurried over to a shallow drainage ditch and plucked out a crushed beer can. Standing, she searched some more and found a large, flat rock and another the size and shape of a baseball.

  Carrying the rocks to where we were standing, she put them on the ground and used my knife to cut the ends off the can, then slice it into narrow strips. I cringed at the damage being done to the edge of the blade, but held my tongue and let her work. When she had all of the strips neatly lined up on the flat rock, she stood and handed the Ka-Bar back to me.

  “Sorry about the edge,” she said, digging through a pocket in her jeans.

  She pulled out two large packs of chewing gum and handed them to Rachel.

  “Chew these,” she said. “All of it. Get it nice and wet and sticky.”

  Rachel stared at her a moment, then turned to look at me. I shrugged and took one of the packs from her. One by one, I unwrapped each stick and stuck it in my mouth. I was parched from the long walk without anything to drink, but eventually, I had what felt like a golf ball sized wad of gum rolling around in my mouth.

  While we chewed, Tiffany attacked the strips of the beer can with the round rock. First, she pounded them even thinner than they already were then, with a twisting motion, began grinding them between the two stones. It took some time and effort, but she eventually managed to reduce them to a coarse powder.

  Using the edge of her hand, she carefully wiped all of the powder to one end of the rock. Picking up the plastic cup, she poured the finely powdered rust onto the other. Comparing the two piles, she brushed away a small quantity of rust, then pushed both into the cup and shook it to mix the contents thoroughly.