V Plague (Book 11): Merciless

by Dirk Patton

  “We’re going to draw them away,” I said. “Shut your engine off so they don’t notice you. Once they’re far enough, move in and get that fucker fueled.”

  “How are you going to get back without bringing them with you?” Johnson asked. “If they’re on the runway…”

  “I’ll take care of it,” I said. “I’ve got the equalizer. Remember?”

  I patted the muzzle of the Mark 19 and grinned. Johnson grinned back, then turned his head when Long said something. A moment later he reached out, a radio in his hand. It was my unit, which still had power, with one of their headsets replacing my damaged one.

  Taking it, I gestured for them to wait while I shoved the earbud in place.

  “Damn good to hear your voice, sir,” Sergeant McCrary said when I reached him on the radio.

  “We’re about eight hundred yards away, with a full load of fuel,” I said. “I can see the infected and we’re going to draw them off. What’s your situation?”

  “Been exciting, sir. Lost five men to the infected before we retreated inside the aircraft. In the past hour, two of the Canadian scientists and one of their military have turned. At the moment, anyone not vaccinated is restrained so they can’t attack if they turn.”

  “Any resistance from the Canadians about that?” I asked.

  “No, sir. In fact, it was that lady that’s in charge of the civilians that suggested it. She convinced Captain Dumas it was the right thing to do. They aren’t too happy, but they’re alive and safe. For the…”

  He stopped speaking abruptly as the scream of a female infected sounded over the radio. There were shouts and screams of frightened people, then an American accented voice telling people to calm down.

  “Make that three scientists, sir,” Creed said when he came back on the circuit.

  “OK, Sergeant. Sit tight. I’m in a Hummer and we’re going to pull the infected away from you. When they’re clear, Long and Johnson will move in. They’ve got a tanker and will probably need help.”

  “Copy that, sir.”

  Rachel reached over the back seat and tapped my leg. I squatted down into the vehicle, telling Creed to stand by.

  “Ask about Irina,” she said. “I don’t see the SUV anywhere.”

  Standing, I took a look around from my elevated position, but didn’t see it either.

  “Sergeant. The blonde woman, Irina, that went with me. Has she returned?”

  “Negative, sir. Haven’t seen anyone since you left that wasn’t infected.”

  “How long have you been inside the aircraft?” I asked.

  “Coming up on two hours, sir. If she showed up in that time frame, she couldn’t have gotten to us.”

  Shit! It had been much longer than that since Irina had lead the infected away from us outside Offutt’s fence. It shouldn’t have taken her longer than half an hour to reach the airport. Son of a bitch!

  “Irina’s missing,” I said to Rachel.

  Guilt and fear for her washed over me. I was the one who had sent her off. Was responsible for whatever had happened to her. Standing there, I started trying to think of the best way to find her. But we were out of time. The unvaccinated Canadians were starting to turn. They needed to be taken to Boise as soon as possible. Before we lost more of them.

  “Creed,” I said into the radio.

  “Sir?”

  “You have a sat phone?”

  “We’ve got a couple.”

  “OK, here’s what I want you to do. I’m going to clear the infected out. While you’re refueling, wrap one of them in something bright that’s easy to spot and leave it on the tarmac. And be sure the number for Pearl is programmed in. Also, if you happen to have a vehicle charger, that would be good.

  “Once you’re fueled, get the hell out of here. You’d better have the pilot contact Pearl once you’re in the air. Make sure the Colonel hasn’t had to move out of Idaho.”

  “You’re not coming, sir?”

  “Not leaving anyone behind, Sergeant. I’ll be fine. You just get those people to someone that has the vaccine before you lose all of them.”

  “Sir, we can wait. I’ve got enough men, some of them can help in the search.”

  “Negative,” I said, shaking my head even though he couldn’t see me. “Your job is to take care of our guests. Understood?”

  “Understood, sir.”

  I could tell by his voice that he wasn’t happy about it. Oh well. He didn’t have to like it, he just had to do what I told him.

  “Thank you, Creed,” I said after a short pause.

  “Good luck, sir. And that sat phone will be waiting for you.”

  “You aren’t serious,” Johnson said, leaning out his open window.

  I nodded, meeting his eyes.

  “Yep,” I said. “Wait for the infected to clear out, then get that thing fueled. Careful with the noise while you’re doing it.”

  I started to lean down to give Rachel instructions, pausing when Johnson asked me to wait a second. Soon he was handing me full magazines for my rifle and all of the grenades he and Long had taken from the armory.

  “Figure you might need these,” he said as I took the items.

  I thanked him, then returned his and Long’s salute. They were writing me off, saying goodbye. Expecting me to perish in Omaha. I hoped they were wrong.

  36

  Lieutenant Commander Mark Vance yawned. A big, jaw popping one. Shaking his head, he reached up and removed his oxygen mask and popped a Go Pill. Snapping the mask back in place, he took a moment to scan the instruments in the cockpit of the F-18. Everything looked normal.

  He was flying over central Mexico at 50,000 feet. Higher altitude meant less fuel consumption, which was exactly what he needed. He’d left Pearl Harbor several hours ago. Tanked up a hundred miles from the island, then again just a few minutes ago over the Sea of Cortez. He still had a long way to travel to reach his target.

  Hopefully, the KC-135 tanker would be waiting over the waters of the Gulf of Mexico when he arrived. If it wasn’t, his only option would be to head north to Texas and try to find a field where he could put the fighter jet down. Failing that, there was always a parachute. He didn’t relish that option, but recognized it was a very real possibility. He just wanted to suck up some juice, finish his recon mission and head back to Pearl.

  He wasn’t a soldier and had a healthy fear of having to punch out over hostile territory. Put him behind the stick in an F-18 and he’d take on anyone. And, as a graduate of the Top Gun fighter school in California, he’d most likely come out victorious. But despite survival training, he didn’t like his odds if he found himself on foot in territory overrun by infected. That was for the morons that had joined the Army.

  All he had to do was reach a tiny point in the ocean, 50 miles southwest of Houston. Make a few low level passes while a surveillance camera mounted to the belly of his aircraft took pictures. Make sure the Electronics Intelligence suite (ELINT) was on and sucking up every electromagnetic signal in the area. Once that was done, he could turn around and head home.

  Musing about his assignment, he again scanned the instruments. The fighter was performing flawlessly. The Go Pill hadn’t kicked in yet and he yawned again. He’d been up for over 12 hours when he was told to get his ass in the air and head east. Now, after countless hours of staring at an empty sky, he was tired. But he knew that soon the drug would wake him up and keep him alert. He might not feel any better, but he wouldn’t be in danger of drifting off in the cockpit.

  Continuing on, he daydreamed about things getting back to normal. The tourists returning to Hawaii. The girls from around the world that came on vacation, looking to let their hair down and have some fun. And what could be more fun that spending a couple of wild nights with an honest to God fighter pilot?

  His conquests were legendary among the Naval aviator community. Single, and not interested in anything that lasted more than 48 hours, he lived the life that most of his squadron mates only dreamed of. A
s they were heading home to a wife and screaming kids with full diapers, he was strutting the sand near the tourist hotels along Waikiki Beach, looking for his next conquest.

  That had been his life. Before the attacks. Now? Duty around the clock. Preparations to first fight off a Chinese invasion, then the Russians. The only solace was the very infrequent breaks he’d gotten and the tourists that had been trapped on the island. Even with little time, he’d still managed to rack up an impressive body count. At least that’s what he called it when he bedded a new girl.

  A couple of Aussies. A Brit. A Japanese girl and three Americans that were visiting from Denver. He’d been busy, not wasting his downtime on something as petty as sleep. Not when there were women to be had.

  As he rendezvoused with the tanker and hooked up to refuel, he was trying to remember which one had told him she loved him three hours after they met. For the life of him, he couldn’t. But knew he’d better figure it out. He’d told her that he loved her too, but only so he could get her to come back to bed. Now he had to be careful in case he ran into her again.

  Refueling complete, he streaked away over the blue waters of the Gulf. Thought about women. Wondered if there was a way he could convince his wing commander to send him to Australia for a while. He loved Aussie women. In his experience, they were much less uptight than American girls.

  He set his fantasies aside as he approached the target. Still a hundred miles away, he began descending. The sky was perfectly clear, not a cloud in sight for as far as he could see. Perfect conditions for taking photos of the target.

  At fifty miles, he passed through 30,000 feet, still slowly descending. Distance to target quickly closed, and at 25 miles he activated the camera and ELINT suite. He hadn’t been briefed on what the target was, just told to start gathering data well before his arrival.

  He closely monitored the display for the ELINT equipment, shaking his head when it showed no EM emissions in the area. That suddenly changed at the 20-mile mark, one of the instruments suddenly surging to the max level it could monitor.

  Continuing to approach, he was at 5,000 feet when he overflew an almost impossibly massive oil rig. The camera was tightly focused and he watched the video feed on a small screen. It looked abandoned. An empty helipad. No boats tied up at the floating dock. No personnel outside. But if that was the case, why were the instruments that measured EM energy going nuts?

  Completing his first pass, he turned a wide circle to come in from a perpendicular angle. For this run, he throttled back to just above stall speed and dropped to 2,500 feet. As he passed over the rig, he jumped in surprise when a loud voice suddenly spoke in his headphones. He quickly verified it was transmitting on the guard channel.

  “US Navy F-18, this is US Government Athena Platform. You are in restricted airspace. State your intentions.”

  Commander Vance made sure the voice recorders were working and answered the call.

  37

  Rachel drove to the far side of the runway, then turned and headed directly for the plane. Coming to a stop about four hundred yards from the herd of infected, she turned on the Hummer’s lights, then pressed and held the horn button.

  Under other circumstances, the reaction would have almost been comical. Every infected head immediately turned in our direction as every body froze in whatever position it was in when the sound reached its ears. For an instant, there was no movement, then as one, the herd began moving towards us.

  The females on the wings leapt off and hit the ground running, joining their sisters in pursuit of new prey. Quickly, the mass separated itself by gender as the much swifter females pulled away from the shambling males. I watched the leading edge for a moment, then turned my attention to the plane.

  I couldn’t see any females still near the aircraft, and the males were departing the area as quickly as they could. Rachel stayed on the horn, until the fastest females were within one hundred yards. Releasing the button, she turned and began driving away, sounding the horn intermittently to keep their interest piqued.

  We lead them down the edge of the runway. I faced the rear, weapon aimed and ready, but I didn’t want to start firing yet. The big jet had to take off and if I left bodies or shattered asphalt lying in its path, well, let’s just say I hadn’t forgotten the disaster at Arnold Air Force Base. Only two infected females had caused a monstrous Globemaster to crash on takeoff, killing everyone on board. I didn’t want to see a repeat of that.

  The similarity of the two situations didn’t fail to register. Rachel and I in a Hummer, trying to clear infected so a planeload of survivors could escape. The only thing missing was Dog. Shaking my head, I forced myself to focus and looked over my shoulder in the direction we were traveling.

  Several thousand feet ahead, a large, grassy field stretched out from the edge of the runway. I remembered from the view as we landed that the field ended at a large, muddy river, though I had no idea which one. This wasn’t a part of the country I was familiar with. At least it wasn’t the Mississippi. I hoped.

  “Head out into the field when we get there,” I shouted to Rachel.

  She nodded to let me know she’d heard. While my head was inside the vehicle, I’d noticed the speedometer. We were driving a steady 25 miles an hour. Straightening, I looked at the pursuing females. They were staying with us. Not gaining, but we weren’t pulling away from them.

  A couple of minutes later I felt the vehicle turn, then we bounced over a series of bumps as Rachel left the tarmac. Looking out across the field I could see that we had several acres of open space to work with. Keeping half an eye on the approaching river, I opened fire on the leading edge of females when we had covered half the distance from the runway.

  The grenades did their job, the ground erupting amongst the infected. They were shredded, pummeled and disemboweled by the force of the blasts. But more were right behind them, undeterred by the death of the leaders. I fired more rounds as Rachel steered us into a gentle curve, following the river bank.

  Another group of females fell and still more leapt over their corpses with screams tearing the night. Firing again, I paused to reload, then resumed pumping grenades into the quickly diminishing group. It didn’t take long for the last of the females to go down.

  They weren’t all dead. Some were still alive, somehow, but with mortal wounds. Legs shattered or missing. Torsos ripped open, their entrails spilling out onto the ground. But they didn’t cease their efforts to catch us. Even as they expired, the females used the last ounce of energy in their shattered bodies to drag themselves another foot. Their determination was amazing. And terrifying.

  Verifying all of the females were either dead or dying, I banged on the roof and Rachel stopped. Far in the distance was a solid mass of bodies, slowly making its way in our direction. The males. The difference in speed between the genders still amazed me as I had time to watch the next wave of infected.

  “We’re fueling.”

  I recognized Creed’s voice in my earpiece.

  “Copy,” I said. “Clear of infected in your area?”

  “Mostly. Had a few males straggle in behind the tanker, but not enough to cause any problems.”

  “How much more time you need?” I asked, eyeing the slowly approaching males.

  “We should be rolling in ten minutes. The tanker has a high volume pump and it’s going fast. We’re going to park it to the side and leave a sat phone and charger in the cab.”

  “That works,” I said. “Let me know before you start moving so I can sweep the runway. Don’t need any surprises.”

  “Copy that, sir. Good luck to you. Hope you find her.”

  “Safe flight, Sergeant,” I said, ending the conversation.

  The bulk of the males were still on the runway, the fastest of them just stepping into the grassy field. And they looked like they were slowing. I wasn’t going to guess whether they were getting tired, losing interest or just acting like an infected.

  “Hit the horn again,�
� I shouted.

  Rachel pressed the button, the strident blare immediately focusing the attention of the approaching herd. They sped up slightly, then their progress was impeded by the footing change. The series of bumps we’d driven over caused many of them to fall. Then the ones behind would trip over the body on the ground.

  “Jesus Christ,” I muttered, chuckling despite myself.

  No, I probably shouldn’t have been amused by all the poor bastards who had fallen victim to the virus. It was probably bad form on my part. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t funny. Even if they did want to tear me open and feast on my guts.

  Finally, they sorted themselves out and began making headway. I gave them another couple of minutes, then unleashed some high explosive hell. Their slower speed meant I could be more selective with my targets than with the females. Instead of rapidly burning through a lot of ammunition, I took my time and placed one shot at a time where I thought it would do the most damage.

  Soon, only a handful of stragglers remained. I put a single grenade in their midst, all but two going down and staying still. After a quick check of the surrounding area, I let the Mark 19’s muzzle drop, using my rifle to quickly dispatch the final pair.

  “I’m clear,” I said to Rachel. “See anything?”

  “All clear,” she called a moment later.

  I activated my radio and called to check on the status of the refueling.

  “Done and starting engines now,” Creed replied quickly.

  “Copy. Sit tight while I check the runway.”

  He acknowledged my order and I tapped on the Humvee’s roof to let Rachel know to start moving. She turned us towards the runway, and accelerated. After a couple of hundred feet, she gave up trying to avoid the bodies scattered across the field. The ride got rough as we bounced over corpses, then we reached the tarmac.

  It only took a few minutes to drive up and down, making sure there weren’t any straggling infected that could cause a problem. At the far end of the runway, I could see the big jet swinging around and lining up for takeoff. Rachel pulled to a stop near the field where we’d slaughtered the herd of infected. After a moment we got out of the Hummer to stand at the edge of the pavement.