by Dirk Patton
From behind I heard the rumble of the big metal doors closing, ending with a dull boom as they met in the middle of the opening. Immediately, lights hanging from the ceiling flickered into dim existence, quickly brightening as they warmed up. Another Hummer waited for us, this one marked Security Forces in bold black lettering on a white background which was the Air Force version of Military Police. Why they had to call them something different I never understood, but ever since breaking off from the Army and becoming its own branch of the military right after WWII the Air Force had worked hard to distinguish itself from the Army much like an ungrateful child. Beside the Hummer sat an Air Force ambulance, two corpsmen standing in front of it with a gurney at the ready. Anderson must have told them to be waiting to take Captain Helm to the base hospital.
A young Captain stood next to the Hummer while a Staff Sergeant and Senior Airman carrying M4 rifles stood to his side waiting for us. We popped the doors and climbed out, Dog jumping down and coming over to stand between Rachel and I as the corpsmen wheeled the gurney up to the plane and climbed aboard to check on their patient. Mayo held back by the plane as Anderson approached the MP Captain – I know, Security Forces, but I wasn’t about to think of him as SF which meant something entirely different in the Army – came to attention and saluted. The Captain returned the salute and they talked for a few minutes with frequent glances in my direction.
Anderson led the Captain over, the two MPs following, and introduced him as Captain Roach. At one point I would have had to salute the kid, but now I wasn’t in the military chain of command and could act like a civilian and get away with a simple handshake. We all watched as the corpsmen carefully lifted Helm out of the aircraft. He was strapped to a backboard and they expertly maneuvered him through the door and onto the gurney. They wasted no time in getting him into the ambulance, driving to the back of the hangar where a door just large enough for the ambulance to fit through opened up then closed quickly after they passed through.
“Folks,” Roach said, addressing Rachel and I both. “Welcome to Arnold Air Force Base. And thank you for assisting Lieutenant Anderson. We appreciate your patriotism.”
He appreciated our patriotism? Seriously? Who the hell talks like that?
“We’ve got accommodations for you, hot showers, food and clean clothes. The intelligence staff wants to speak with you first, then we’ll get you settled. I do need you to surrender your weapons to my men before we go any further. Civilians aren’t allowed to carry firearms on base.”
Roach turned slightly at the waist and motioned the two MPs – oops, Security Forces members – forward with a little wave of his hand.
“Not going to happen,” I said. My rifle was slung across my chest and my right hand was resting on the pistol grip, index finger adjacent to the trigger guard and thumb on the fire selector switch which was currently on SAFE.
The two MPs stopped and the Airman started to raise his M4 in my direction, but I was faster on the draw getting my rifle up and sighted on him before he knew what was happening. His eyes opened wide in fear and he froze in place.
“Son, you do not want to find out what will happen if you point a weapon at me.” I said, stepping to the side to put some distance between Rachel and I in case bullets did start coming my way. The Staff Sergeant started to slide off to the side but froze when Dog stepped forward with a low warning growl and Rachel drew her pistol, keeping the muzzle in the low ready position.
“Enough,” Anderson said, stepping forward and placing himself directly in front of my rifle. “No one is going to shoot anyone and everyone is going to keep their weapons. Let’s relax.”
“You’re out of line, Lieutenant.” Roach said, but he didn’t step into the line of fire. “These civilians will surrender their weapons and if you interfere any further I’ll have you brought up on charges for insubordination.”
Anderson looked at Roach with his mouth open in shock. I didn’t blame him. I had encountered officers like Captain Roach in my day and knew we were dealing with someone who would resort to us actually shooting at each other in order to save face. However, I didn’t care. In a normal world I would have willingly surrendered my weapons to them, but this wasn’t a normal world and being unarmed could very well be the difference between life and death, even in the middle of an Air Force base.
“Lower your goddamn weapons and stand down!” A commanding voice rang out from the shadows in the back of the hangar. Heavy footsteps came forward and a large man wearing an Army uniform and a Colonel’s eagle stepped into the light. All of the Air Force personnel snapped to attention and I slowly lowered my rifle and motioned Rachel to holster her pistol. The Colonel walked right up in front of me and looked me in the eye for a long moment. The name tape on his uniform blouse read Crawford and he wore Airborne and Special Forces tabs as well.
“Captain, you and your men are dismissed. Leave your vehicle.” The Colonel remained facing me and didn’t see the look of disdain he received from Captain Roach, and a second later the look of hatred I received.
“Yes, sir!” Roach snapped out and turned to depart with his men.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Captain.” I was surprised to hear the barb come from Rachel, and wasn’t surprised to hear the rebuke she received from the Colonel.
“Knock that shit off, ma’am.” He barked, still maintaining eye contact with me. He stood rock still until we heard a door slam at the back of the hangar, then relaxed and extended his hand to me.
“Jack Crawford,” He said. I liked him immediately. A full bird Colonel that can introduce himself without feeling the need to include his rank was my kind of officer.
“John Chase,” I said, taking the offered hand. “Thank you for that.”
He waved it away and stepped over to introduce himself to Rachel and even bent to give Dog an ear scratch after getting an approving sniff of the back of his hand. Noticing Anderson and Mayo for seemingly the first time he told them to stand easy – meaning they could relax as much as possible with a Colonel in their presence – then pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered them around before lighting up. I was the only taker and cigarettes burning we wandered over to the Hummer where he leaned on the front fender as we talked.
Colonel Crawford commanded the 5th Special Operations Group (SOG) based at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. Most of his operators were deployed when the attacks came and were now on hold where they were until the remnants of the government decided how best to punish our attackers. He happened to be transiting through Arnold AFB on a flight from a secure government facility when he heard about our inbound flight. Curiosity got the best of him and he came to see who we were.
I told him my story, or at least the highlights.
“When did you serve?” He asked. Not, ‘did you serve’. Even now I guess I wore the look that was obvious to another soldier. I told him and gave the generic answer when asked about my MOS – Military Occupational Specialty – of 11B or infantryman. Technically that was true as I had started out as an infantryman before applying and being accepted first into Ranger School then progressing from there. My clothing covered tattoos that would have answered his questions in more detail so I felt OK giving the answer. I didn’t know why I wanted to stay under the military’s radar, but something was telling me to play it low key.
He was also curious about Rachel and I evaded the questions as best I could, not wanting to go into the details of what she had been through. Standing close to us listening, Rachel got the idea, stepped forward and linked her arm through mine.
“Put it this way, Colonel. We’ve been together since we met at his hotel in Atlanta.” She gave a coy smile, leaned her head onto my shoulder and let him draw whatever conclusion he wanted. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes but he apparently decided to let it go for now.
“OK then,” He pushed off from the fender and stood up straight. “We should get you checked in with the intel guys so you can get them taken care of then get
some chow and some rest. Hop in.” He gestured at the Security Forces Hummer with his thumb, waved Anderson and Mayo over and climbed behind the wheel.
40
Colonel Crawford drove straight to a large building on the far side of the base, parking in a spot reserved for a Major somebody. The four story building was substantial looking as most buildings on military installations are, built of all red brick with a concrete porch running the full width of the front of the building. Heavy Roman style columns painted a gleaming white supported the four story high roof that extended out over the porch. All the windows were dark and as we got closer it was obvious they were covered on the inside with blackout curtains.
Two Air Force MPs – oops – stood on either side of the front entrance. They snapped to attention when the Colonel was close enough for them to see his uniform in the dark, then one of them stiffly reached out and held the door open for us. Crawford strode into the dark vestibule either like he owned the place or he was attacking it, I wasn’t quite sure which, waited for all of us to enter the building and the door to close behind us then brushed aside the blackout curtain and led us down a brightly lit hall.
He stopped at an unmarked door that was closed and locked, knocked loudly and stood waiting. The impatience fairly oozed out of him and as soon as the door started to open he pushed through waving for us to follow. The room was actually a series of large rooms connected together and was well staffed even at this hour.
Anderson and Mayo were met by an Air Force Master Sergeant who led them down a long hall that opened up to our left. He placed each of them in separate rooms that opened off the hall then returned to gather us. Rather than straight to an interview room he led us to his desk where we were each asked to place our right hand on a palm reader that sat on the edge of the desk and connected to his PC via a long USB cable.
Rachel went first, the device scanning her hand and fingerprints in only a few seconds, then it was my turn. With a sigh I rested my right hand on the backlit glass plate and the machine flashed green when it had read my hand. Crawford stood behind us, waiting patiently now, as the intel clerk stared at his monitor waiting for the results.
“Ms. Miles, welcome to Arnold Air Force Base.” He said when the system returned data on her scan. I wondered how many databases the military was tied into now. Probably everything.
“Thank you,” Rachel gave him her best smile and he blushed slightly before focusing back on his monitor. Almost two full minutes later he blinked in surprise and looked up.
“Colonel, his data is classified above my clearance. You’ll need to enter your credentials.” He stood up, gave me a questioning look and moved far enough away that he couldn’t see the monitor.
Crawford came around and sat in the empty chair, looked away in thought for half a second then typed in what I assumed was a user ID and password. He then stood and turned the palm reader towards him, placed his right hand on it and hit a button on the keyboard with his left index finger. When the light glowed green he sat back down and stared at the monitor. And stared some more, then scrolled with the mouse and stared some more. Apparently satisfied with the results he clicked the mouse a few times and nodded to the clerk who returned to his desk.
“Ranger, Green Beret, assigned to Operational Detachment Delta. Saw action in Afghanistan, East Germany, Honduras and Nicaragua with a whole string of missions that are classified even higher than my clearance. Infantry my ass. I didn’t think so.” He said and I could only offer a grin in response.
“You’re Delta Force?” The clerk blurted out, then slammed his mouth shut and busied himself with his computer when Crawford gave him a look that could freeze iron.
“I hope you’re still going to be able to grin after I tell you this,” Crawford smiled. “The President has ordered the recall of all former military personnel with no exceptions granted. Welcome back to the US Army, Master Sergeant.”
What a bag of dicks!
Loving the adventure? Crucifixion: Voodoo Plague Book 2 is available now on Amazon. Please visit my author page at www.amazon.com/author/dirkpatton to find it as well as Rolling Thunder: Voodoo Plague Book 3. Red Hammer, the fourth book in the series is slated for release in the fall of 2014. Thank you for reading!
Author’s Note
Like many people these days I’m a fan of apocalyptic fiction and am an avid reader and watcher of all things zombie or zombie-like. I used to work for a company that required my travel to the Atlanta area and the hotel and swampy marsh described early in the book really exist just as described. In fact I got the idea for this book while staying at the hotel when I got up one morning, looked out the window and saw a thick layer of mist laying on top of the water. Two locals, wearing waders and carrying long poles (I never found out what they were doing) were moving slowly through the thigh deep water looking for something, and their resemblance to shambling zombies was downright eerie.
I’ve read too many books and watched too many TV shows and movies where the writers, at least for my taste, spent way too much time padding their word counts with unnecessary descriptions, dialogue and flashbacks. I wanted to tell a fast paced story and drop in nuggets of detail along the way, hopefully ending up with one of those books that you just have to see what happens next, over and over, until you look at the clock and its waaay past your bedtime.
I also wanted to introduce an element of the very dangerous world we live in. A world where the population is quickly starting to outpace our planet’s ability to support us, and one in which I am fairly confident the next major global conflict will be fought over our dwindling natural resources. Could it happen? Perhaps not flesh eaters created by a chemical weapons, but aren’t they fun?!
For those readers that are familiar with the Atlanta area you will recognize some of the locations described and you won’t recognize others. I’ve taken a lot of liberties with different locations, changing them as necessary to make the story work. Anything that is not accurate is completely intentional.
Thank you for reading Voodoo Plague, and if you enjoyed it I would very much appreciate your positive review on Amazon. You can also follow me at Facebook.com/FearThePlague and email me at [email protected]. I would love to hear what’s on your mind.
Dirk Patton December, 2013