“Lucky me,” Hunter grumbles.
Nate’s wife reappears along with a gawky boy maybe ten years old. They’re each carrying three tin plates with meat and greens of some sort. Hunter recognizes the meat as squirrel while the greens are spinach or kale or mustard greens, none of which are his favorite. But beggars can’t be choosy, so he downs the greens and squirrel.
Hunter looks through some of the old magazines Nation brought until it gets too dark to read. They use the old carpet of the visitor center for their beds, along with a few old chair cushions as pillows. It’s not the most comfortable arrangement, but Hunter has slept in worse places.
He’s not sure what time it is when he hears a thump against the front door. There’s another thump and then another from all around the visitor’s center. Hunter jerks up into a sitting position; he reaches for his pistol until he remembers he left it in the Harrier along with his M4.
Nation and the others are getting to their feet. A couple of them have pistols, but no serious firepower. Hunter follows Nate over to the front doors. They’re locked and boarded up for the night, but there’s a peephole that allows Hunter to see a pack of zeebs pounding on the sides of the building.
Nate comes running up with a shotgun in hand. “Goddamned things must have broke through the fence somewhere.”
“So what kind of defenses you got here?”
“The walls should be solid enough to keep them out.”
“For how long? I hate to tell you, Nate, but I don’t plan on spending the rest of my life here,” Nation says.
“I ain’t gonna open up and risk my family fighting them. Maybe they’ll give up after a while.”
“You ever know a zeeb that gave up?”
Hunter thinks again of the machine gun he left in the Harrier; it would be useful right now. The plane itself would be far more useful—
“If we can distract them, maybe I could get to my plane. That would let us take care of them pretty quick,” Hunter says.
“Sure, but how you going to get out there?” Nation asks.
“Is there a back way out of here?”
“Not one they ain’t watching.”
Hunter nods and then starts to look around for some other way to get out. His eyes settle on the fireplace. He does a few mental calculations and then nods to himself. “Put that fire out.”
“You can’t be serious,” Nation says.
“Why not? Works for Santa Claus.”
The fire has already burned down to embers, which makes it a lot cooler than when Nate’s wife had been cooking or doing the laundry. It’s still warm enough that Hunter is glad for a pair of thick work gloves from Nate and a ski mask to cover most of his face. He would much rather have his helmet and oxygen mask, but those are in the Harrier with everything else.
The fireplace is big enough for him to fit inside. The chimney is a much tighter squeeze he finds out as he starts up. The air is so warm and thick with soot that he has to hold his breath as he scrambles up, using some of the uneven bricks for hand and footholds.
By the time he reaches the top of the chimney, his legs are burning and his entire flight suit is covered in soot. He punches open a grate over the top of the chimney and then squeezes himself out through the opening. He collapses onto the top of the roof to gasp for air.
As he recovers, he tries to determine how he’s going to get down. He looks for a tree branch or a clothesline—or a power line. Before the outbreak it would be suicide to try to slide down a power line. Since there hasn’t been any electricity running through the lines for two years, it should be plenty safe.
He does some calculations to determine if the line will be strong enough and long enough to get him to safety. So long as the line hasn’t been damaged it should hold him. As for the length, it will get him behind the zeebs. From there he’ll have to run like hell.
His flight suit has gotten scorched and torn enough that he can easily rip most of the left pant leg off. He uses this to wrap around the power line so he can slide down. The material of the flight suit starts to give way from the friction almost immediately. But it manages to hold up long enough for him to soar over the zeebs attacking the visitor’s center.
He drops onto the ground about fifty feet behind them. As he figured, they don’t need long to start turning towards him. He scrambles to his feet and then takes off running. He has a natural advantage over the slower zeebs that should let him get to the Harrier in plenty of time—
A shot nearly takes his head off. He turns to look back at the visitor’s center, but then sees a metallic glint in the moonlight. He throws himself to the ground before another shot rings out. “Hold it! I’m a friendly!” Hunter shouts.
“The hell you are,” a man growls. He steps into the moonlight so Hunter can see a gaunt figure in an oversized flannel shirt and blue jeans that make him look like an anorexic version of Nate. He slams another round into the chamber of his hunting rifle. “You’re with that son of a bitch Nate.”
“You must be the brother-in-law.”
“That’s right. That bastard got my family killed. I figure it’s time he got what’s coming to him.”
“That’s fine, but my friends and I aren’t part of this. We’re just here to pick up some logs.”
“You do business with him, that puts you in league with him as far as I’m concerned.”
Hunter can hear the zeebs drawing closer. He motions to the approaching pack. “They’re going to kill us both out here.”
“I don’t care no more. I don’t have nothing to live for.”
There’s no more time for Hunter to try reasoning with the man. He has to settle this right now. The hunting rifle might be good for shooting deer or zeebs at long range, but it’s not so effective at close range. Hunter rolls to his right and then scrambles to his feet. As Ed is still trying to track him, Hunter dives forward. With how emaciated Ed’s body is, it’s not hard to yank the rifle from his hands.
Another time Hunter might try to save the man, but there’s no room in the Harrier for him and no time to get him back to the visitor’s center. Hunter tosses the hunting rifle aside and then bolts for the Harrier.
As the zeebs tear into Ed’s body, Hunter gets the Harrier’s canopy open. He’s quick to bring it back down to seal himself in. He runs through the checklist in record time, skipping a few steps since he doesn’t plan on flying anywhere.
At this point all he needs to do is get the Harrier a few feet into the air. He swings the nose around to face the zeebs feasting on Ed’s body. He triggers a burst from the cannon pods. As they did along the way to the mountain, the shells chew up the zeebs, leaving only a couple to crawl futilely towards him.
He sweeps the rest of the mountaintop as best he can. There are a few stragglers left close to the visitor center that he doesn’t want to risk shooting at for fear of hitting the people inside. He leaves those until he lands the Harrier as close to the visitor’s center as he dares. Then he hops down from the plane with the M4 in his hand. The machine gun isn’t as devastating as the cannon pods on the Harrier, but it’s close enough.
Nate and Nation emerge from the visitor’s center, weapons at the ready. “They gone?” Nation asks.
“For now,” Hunter says.
“You OK?”
“A little toasted, but otherwise fine.”
“Good.”
“We ought to go down and see how they got in,” Nate says.
“It was your brother-in-law. I think he went a little nuts after his wife and daughter were killed. He blamed you for it.”
“That son of a bitch. When I catch up to him—”
“He’s over there,” Hunter says, gesturing to the pile of dismembered zeebs. “There wasn’t a chance to save him.”
“I guess he got what he deserved then.” Nate spits for emphasis. Then he holds out his hand for Hunter to shake. “Thank you for protecting my family. I owe you, mister.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I don’t suppose you’d mind staying here to keep an eye on things while I go to check the fence?”
“Not a problem, Nate.”
“Thank you again. Anything you want, just name it.”
“I think I’m good right now.”
“Well if you ever need anything, you let me know.”
“I will.”
Hunter climbs atop the Harrier to give him a better vantage to watch the area around the visitor’s center. He stands guard for the rest of the night while Nate, Nation, and the others go down to repair the fence. All this to trade some logs for magazines, he thinks, shaking his head.
***
It’s almost sundown when they reach the Albuquerque airport again. Hunter touches down on the tarmac next to the idle C-130s. He takes his pistol with him as he climbs down from the cockpit. He has gotten caught with his pants down a couple of times already; from now on he needs to be more careful.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Val says from the back of her C-130. She’s leaning against the side of the doorway, a grin on her face. “I thought you and Phil had ditched us to set up your own operation.”
“That’s way too much work for me,” Hunter says.
As he approaches, she shakes her head. “Christ, what did you do?”
“I crawled up a chimney.”
“What? Christmas isn’t for months.”
“I know. It was that or spend the next two years on that mountain.”
“I guess you made the right call then.” She throws herself at him to kiss him violently on the lips. He groans with pain from climbing up the chimney, fighting Ed, and some lingering soreness from the night he had spent with Val. “What’s the matter, baby? You need some treatment?”
“Just a good night’s sleep.”
She huffs and then shoves him back. He grabs a strap by the door to keep himself from tumbling down the ramp. He can’t catch up with her before she slams the cockpit door shut. “Looks like she let you off easy,” Nation says from behind him.
“I guess so. What’s on the agenda?”
“I think we’ll stay here for the night and then head to Las Cruces in the morning. You planning to come with or you want to go wandering on your own?”
Hunter needs a moment to think this over. “I think I’ll stick around for a little while. Keep you guys out of trouble.”
“Thanks, old buddy. Like I said, you’re welcome to a cut of our haul. All the help you’ve given us, I ought to make it fifty percent.”
“Ten is more than enough. And if you come across any information on those Russian planes or my X-29, I’d appreciate a head’s up.”
“You got a deal.”
They shake hands to seal it and then step aside to let the truck rumble up the back ramp. There’s no sense taking the logs out of the truck when they would have to load the truck again in Las Cruces. Hunter waits around for a few minutes in case Val shows up, but she must still be pouting in the cockpit. Or maybe she’s scheming how to get revenge for his slighting her. He imagines that will be almost as painful as fucking her.
Hunter lands the Harrier on the roof of the Hilton again, but this time he takes a room a couple of floors down. It’s far less spacious, just a queen-sized bed, chest of drawers, and a nightstand. That’s more than he needs as it has been an exhausting twenty-four hours. It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep.
When he feels warm breath on the back of his neck, he sits bolt upright, reaching for his gun at the same time. Val giggles uproariously even as he aims the pistol at her. “What the hell are you doing? I could have shot you!”
She runs a finger along his bare chest. “Oh come on, you wouldn’t shoot me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Don’t be such a party-pooper.”
“Look, I’m really tired. I’d just like to get some sleep.”
“That’s fine. We can just sleep. It’ll be nice and platonic.”
He doubts her sincerity, but there’s probably no way to make her leave except to physically throw her out, which would end up giving him a few more scratches and bruises. With a sigh he sets the gun back on the nightstand. “All right. Just don’t try anything.”
“I won’t.” He doesn’t like her sly grin, but again he sees no sense trying to fight her. He slides over on the bed to let her cozy up next to him. It does feel nice to have the warmth of her body against him, though he wishes it were Casey or Misuko or even Tammy instead of this crazy bitch.
He has almost drifted off when she tickles him between the legs. He swats her hand away. “Quit it.”
“Come on, you’re so tense. You need to loosen up a little.”
“Maybe later.”
“You never let me have any fun,” she whines.
“If you’re not going to sleep then get out.”
“Fine, we’ll sleep.” She turns her back to him and makes a big show of fluffing a pillow. He knows he can’t trust her, but he’s too tired to watch her the rest of the night.
He wakes up sometime later thinking he has to piss. He only needs another moment to realize it’s not that. “Goddamn it,” he mutters. “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”
“Nope,” Val says with a grin. “You want me to finish or you want to finish it yourself?”
“Go ahead,” he mutters. She’ll get her way one way or another. He leans back on the bed, wondering if he ought to renege on his deal with Nation. He’s not sure how much longer he can put up with Val.
Chapter 16
The deal in Las Cruces is easy enough. The buyer is waiting on the runway with sacks of silver coins and bullion. Nation’s crew drives the half-ton truck down to make the swap. The hardest part is to unload the truck. Hunter helps to stand guard on the runway while the crew uses ropes and pulleys again to transfer the logs onto another truck.
All the noise brings a few of the zeebs running. Hunter picks off three while Val takes care of the rest. They haven’t said much since their awkward night together. Most of their talk relates to business, positioning themselves for maximum effectiveness. Hunter keeps a wary eye on her in case she tries to engineer an “accident” for him.
She finally takes the initiative to say, “You don’t have to be embarrassed. What’s a hand job between friends?”
“Is that what we are?”
“Stop being so sour about it. The way things are these days, you might as well try to have fun. Today or tomorrow you could get bit and that would be it. Or you might get shot by some asshole and then it’s over. So why try to be all pure and innocent?”
She stops to shoot a zeeb wearing mechanic’s coveralls in the head. Then she brushes up against him. “Once they’re done playing with the wood, how about we go do a little foraging? I’m sure there’s a lingerie shop somewhere around here.”
“No thanks.”
“Fine, be a spoilsport. Nine o’clock.”
He turns to put a bullet through the neck of another zeeb. There’s a pack of them coming from the terminal. Hunter gets down on one knee to steady himself and to keep himself out of Val’s line of fire. Once the pack is down, Hunter ejects the clip from his M4 and then fishes around for another.
“This place seems pretty active.”
“Those bozos probably lured them here from wherever they’ve been hiding.”
“One thing I don’t quite understand: how do you guys find these jobs? It’s not like you can pick up a telephone anymore.”
“Short-wave radios mostly. There are stations to relay signals to the Hub.”
“The Hub? Where’s that?”
“Mile High. As in Denver. They keep track of who’s looking for what. Then it’s like Craigslist: first one who shows up makes the deal. When you’ve been doing this for a couple of years, you get a mental Rolodex of who’s carrying what. You just have to hope when you get there they haven’t been wiped out. If we’d got to Albuquerque a couple days late, that guy might have been gone thanks to his idiot brother-i
n-law.”
Hunter nods along as he listens to Val. He supposes it makes sense without an Internet or reliable telephone network to use radio to pass along messages. A lot of the survivalist types already had HAM radios; so long as they managed to stay connected to a power source it would work well enough.
“You think this Hub would have some information on the people I’m looking for?”
“They might. Course to get it is going to cost you.”
“How much?”
“Depends. Probably a good chunk of silver.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem now.”
“The bigger problem for you will be figuring out where to go. They aren’t too friendly up there.” She rubs up against him and then smiles. “You could always bring along a guide.”
“I don’t think you’d fit in the cockpit with me. We could strap you to one of the hard points.”
“That’s funny,” she growls and then stomps away.
***
Now that the half-ton truck is unloaded, Nation announces he wants to take a trip to White Sands. “It’s probably cleaned out, but there might still be something left,” he says.
“Yeah, radiation,” Val grumbles.
“That place hasn’t been hot in decades. At least not with radiation.”
“I think I’ll stay with the plane and paint my nails.”
“I’ll go with you,” Hunter volunteers.
“Good. Grab a couple of jugs of water in case the old girl overheats again.”
Hunter waits until they’re on the road to say, “Val told me about the Hub up in Denver. I was thinking I should go there. See if they know anything about my friends or those guys with the Russian planes.”
“Did she mention Mile High is a pretty dangerous place?”
“I’ve been to dangerous places before.”
“Not like that. It’s basically the Old West there. A lot of mercs hang out there to look for work. Sometimes they decide to eliminate some of the competition. When that happens, you want to make sure you’re not in the area.”
“So you’ve been there.”
Army of the Damned (Sky Ghost #1) Page 13