HOT ZONE: A Post-Apocalyptic Pandemic Thriller (The Zulu Virus Chronicles Book 1)

by Steven Konkoly

  The crossing was still a good mile from here, and sunrise was a little more than an hour away. The eastern horizon was already showing signs of lightening. In thirty to forty minutes, it would be bright enough to see without night vision. They needed to make an immediate decision. If the airfield was a no-go, they could get to Finley Creek and wait for sunset, or try a day crossing if road patrols were as light here as the Harpers claimed Interstate 465 had been a few hours ago. He liked the Harpers, and adding two sharp people to the group enhanced their chances of escaping.

  David crawled backward, settling in next to Jack Harper. This close to the airfield, he didn’t dare stand up. The corn plants were only four feet tall at this point in June. He looked around for his son, not seeing him. Emma was on the other side of Jack, but Joshua was gone.

  “Where’s Josh?” he said.

  “He crawled off toward Larsen and Chang,” said Jack.

  David didn’t like the thought of his son far from his side, especially with Larsen around. He still didn’t fully trust the man. He seemed more mercenary than government agent.

  “How long ago?”

  “A few minutes,” said Jack. “What does it look like out there?”

  “The airfield is bigger than I expected. I saw several large buildings, mostly hangars,” said David. “Looks like the 10th Mountain Division set up a FARP right in the middle of it, though.”

  “FARP?”

  “Forward arming and refueling point,” said David. “At some point tonight, they flew in bladders of aviation fuel. Probably used Chinooks for that. They’ll refuel any helicopters ferrying troops to the quarantine boundary. I’ve seen Black Hawks and Kiowas so far. Everything done in the dark, which means this is a pretty slick operation. Everyone is using night vision.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” said Emma.

  “It’s not,” said David. “I mean, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble getting to Chang’s aircraft unobserved. His hangar is on the western edge of the complex, which looks really quiet. I just don’t know how he’ll get the plane onto the runway. The main tarmac he’d have to cross to reach it appears to be the center of flight operations. I have to imagine the soldiers down there would put an end to that escapade pretty quickly.”

  “Sounds like we might be better off skipping the airport,” said Jack.

  “I don’t know. At this point, we’re not getting across the 421 before sunrise,” said David. “And I just watched three helicopters offload a platoon of soldiers. They’re beefing up the number around here pretty quickly. If Larsen comes up with a reasonable plan to pull this off, I think it’s worth a shot. If his plan involves blowing that place sky-high and killing soldiers, he can do that by himself.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Larsen shook his head imperceptibly behind the powerful rifle scope, not wanting to scare Chang. No way they could pull this off without blowing something up. He passed the M1-A1 back to the cop’s son and rolled onto his back, taking in the night sky through the cornstalks. He just didn’t see any other way to do it.

  “Thanks for the look,” he said. “Did your dad teach you how to shoot that? It’s one hell of a rifle.”

  “I’ve fired it a few times,” said Joshua. “I’m basically lugging it around in case we need it.”

  “Your dad used something like this before?” said Larsen.

  “Something similar,” said Joshua. “He was a Marine designated marksman.”

  “Really?”

  That might come in handy if he’d kept his shooting skills intact.

  “How long ago?” said Larsen.

  “Close to twenty. He got out before the first Gulf War.”

  Not likely to be the kind of useful he’d need to make this job easier. Still. He’d keep it in mind. He didn’t like seeing Kiowas on the tarmac. One well-placed shot could disable their mast-mounted sights.

  “Joshua, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you drag your dad up here?” said Larsen. “The Harpers too. Quietly. We need to figure out how we’re going to pull this off.”

  “I’ll be right back,” said Joshua before slithering away.

  “Can we pull this off?” said Chang. “It looks awfully busy. Helicopters and trucks coming and going. I don’t see how.”

  “I was having a hard time seeing myself, but I see it now,” said Larsen. “There’s no guarantee it will work, but it’s a simple plan, and in my experience—simple works best.”

  “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?” said Chang.

  “Trust me. Nobody is going to like it,” said Larsen.

  He backed up far enough into the cornfield to still see the airfield, but give them a little concealment in case anyone did anything stupid. He’d been on operations with veteran SEALs who triggered a rifle light at the wrong time. It could happen to anyone at any time, and now would be a really bad time. When everyone had crawled into place around him, he started with an honest assessment of their chances. Better to get that on the table up front.

  “I have a plan that can work,” said Larsen. “I give it a fifty-fifty chance.”

  “Jesus,” said David. “Vegas odds.”

  “Better than Vegas odds. Just slightly,” said Larsen.

  “I think we’ve wasted enough time here,” said David. “We could have been past 421 already, or pretty close.”

  “You’re making a big assumption about the 421,” said Larsen.

  “I know we can’t take crossing it for granted, but it’s better than fifty-fifty.”

  “No. I’m talking about the assumption that you’ll be home free after the 421,” said Larsen. “My guess is they’ll patrol all the way to Interstate 65. They might not have the manpower yet, but you saw the Kiowas. They can cover a lot of ground.”

  “We can take our time,” said David. “Thermal imaging is far from perfect.”

  “I’m just making sure you thought it through,” said Larsen. “If my plan works, we’ll be well past the quarantine line before you get beyond the western end of this cornfield. Granted, you will undoubtedly get to the end of the cornfield. Beyond that, with those Kiowas flying around, there’s no guarantee of anything. Not that I’m promising a walk in the park here.”

  “Let’s hear it. If it starts with blowing up a helicopter, we’re walking,” said David.

  “It starts with blowing up—one of the fuel bladders.”

  David cocked his head, which gave Larsen a little hope that he had the Marine hooked.

  “Won’t that end up blowing up the helicopters?” said Chang.

  “No. Not unless they’ve completely fucked up down there,” said Larsen. “Based on what I’ve observed, this crew knows what it’s doing. I wouldn’t expect any less from the 10th Aviation Regiment.”

  “We create a distraction?” said David.

  “Sort of,” said Larsen. “Our biggest problem down there is the refueling zone. They put it smack dab in the middle of the big tarmac, blocking Dr. Chang’s taxi path. I have no doubt I can get Chang to his hangar undetected, and with all of the rotor noise down there, they’ll never hear his hangar bay open or his engine start. However, once that Cessna rounds the corner of the hangar and starts taxiing toward the tarmac, all bets are off.”

  “I can maneuver in and around them,” said Chang. “There’s enough space.”

  “In the dark, with night-vision goggles?” said Larsen.

  “That’ll be the least of his problems,” said David.

  “Exactly. The refueling group is armed, as well as the helicopter crews. There’s a squad providing light security. I don’t think we’d make it to the tarmac,” said Larsen. “Which is why we need to clear it, and nothing will clear it faster than a suspected fuel system malfunction. If one of those bladders goes sky-high, they’ll detach the fuel hoses and launch every helicopter immediately. That’s when we’ll roll through, hopefully under the cover of thick smoke. Once we hit the main taxiway, we’re home free.�
�

  “With a bunch of helicopters overhead,” said David. “Two of them with highly sophisticated surveillance sensors.”

  “That’s where you come in,” said Larsen. “I heard you might be handy with the M1-A1.”

  “I told him you were a designated marksman,” said Joshua. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “That’s okay, Josh,” said David, his head turning to Larsen. “I’m not killing anyone down there.”

  “I’m not asking you to shoot anyone,” said Larsen. “I just need you to put a bullet or two into each MMS if the helicopters are still there when this goes down. Can you do that from here?”

  “Not a problem,” said David.

  “Then that’s it,” said Larsen.

  “That’s it?” said David.

  “Pretty much. You’ll stay here with your son and the Harpers. Chang and I will sneak down to the airfield. I’ll do my thing and he’ll do his. If all goes well, we’ll pick you up on the taxiway next to this cornfield. Chang said he can take off using the taxiway, so we’ll be in the air a few seconds after pickup.”

  “That easy, huh?” said David.

  “Everything and anything can go wrong, David. You know that,” said Larsen. “This way, if it goes wrong on the tarmac, only my journey and Dr. Chang’s ends early—assuming you knock out the Kiowa sensors before they get airborne. I can’t imagine you’ll get far with every helicopter in the area on high alert.”

  “As soon as the fuel bladder goes up, I’ll take out the mast-mounted sights,” said David. “Even in the dark, they kind of make easy targets.”

  “Music to my ears. A man—or woman—that doesn’t doubt their shooting skills,” said Larsen. “So is this it? Are we all in? Harpers?”

  “I’m in,” said Emma.

  “We’re in, then,” said Jack.

  “Joshua?” said David.

  “I say we do it, Dad.”

  “Then we do it,” said David.

  “For the record, this is a fucking crazy plan,” said Larsen. “I have made that clear already, right?”

  “Abundantly,” said Jack.

  Larsen laughed. “All right. Let’s go over it again and get this rolling. Time, tide and formation wait for no man—and that sun is coming up whether we like it or not.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Olson followed Chang’s and Larsen’s dark shapes through his scope as they sprinted the short distance from the edge of the closest cornfield to the western hangar. He wasn’t concerned about them being spotted, because the largest building at the airfield—a behemoth three-story, curved-roof hangar at the southern edge of the airport complex—stood between Chang’s hangar and the refueling helicopters. Nobody at the airfield had a clear line of vision to them, and once they reached the hangar, only a sentry patrolling the western side of the vast complex might run into them. They were as safe as they would be on this mission.

  When they vanished behind the long hangar, he shifted to the helicopters, sighting in on one of the Kiowas’ mast-mounted sights. The distinct, ball-shaped sensor stood several feet above the main rotors, an easy target at this range. The trick would be hitting each sensor ball twice, at the very least. Three times would be preferable. The ball was at least three feet in diameter, containing two forward-facing optical lenses. One of them housed the thermal imaging system, and he didn’t know which. Neither did Larsen. The plan was for him to hit each ball as many times as possible, spreading the bullets evenly between the two helicopters before they took off. Hitting them in the air would be nearly impossible.

  He had sighted the scope for two hundred yards, so he’d have to adjust his point of aim for the longer distance. It wouldn’t be a big adjustment, but at night, with a blazing inferno in the background, he might not be able to tell if his rounds were on target, and he wouldn’t have much time to make up for missed shots. Joshua would have to help him with that. Lying next to him with the binoculars, his job would be to look for any sign of a hit once he started firing. Sparks. Obviously shattered lenses. Sharp noise from debris hitting the rotors. Anything.

  His son would also be keeping an eye on the small security team’s whereabouts, along with any stray members of the ground crew, while Larsen planted an explosive charge on one of the bladders. David wore the spare communications rig that Larsen had produced. Interestingly, the handheld radio had been smeared with blood, too.

  Something serious had gone down before they met Larsen and Chang in the forest, and neither of them had been keen to discuss it. He just hoped it wasn’t the kind of secret that would come back to bite them later. David had privately told his son to keep a close eye on both of them. He had no reason to trust them, but they needed each other. If the plan worked, they’d get farther out of the quarantine zone in ten minutes by air than ten hours on foot.

  “What are you seeing?” said David.

  “From what I can see, the entire refueling team is busy with the helicopters,” said Joshua. “A few members of the security team are spread out along the perimeter of the tarmac, the rest are between the tarmac and the bladders. I don’t see how Larsen is going to blow one of those up without killing some of them.”

  “He’ll figure out a way to give them a warning or something,” said David, not really believing his own words.

  In fact, he was starting to feel like he’d been duped by Larsen. David wasn’t questioning the man’s assessment of the situation on the airfield or their chance of success, he was questioning Larsen’s true motive for putting him behind a rifle scope, with a clear view of the tarmac. He should have seen it earlier, but Larsen had played him well. He’d placed all of the emphasis on taking out the Kiowas’ sensors, distracting him from the obvious problem at hand—the thirty-plus soldiers at the airport. There was no way Chang’s aircraft was getting to the taxiway without some shooting, and Larsen couldn’t cover the entire tarmac by himself.

  “That son of a bitch,” muttered David.

  “What?” said Joshua.

  “Nothing. Just mumbling to myself about our whole situation,” said David. “Never in a million years.”

  “We’re gonna be okay, right, Dad?”

  He patted his son on the shoulder. “We’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Or you,” said Joshua. “I don’t think we’re going to see Mom again.”

  “What makes you say that?” said David. “She’s out there somewhere. Hopefully she got the word that Indianapolis was a mess and stayed clear. We’ll find her when we get out of here.”

  “I appreciate you saying that, Dad,” said Joshua. “But she wasn’t answering her phone or messages long before cell service was cut.”

  “She mentioned taking a trip with what’s his name. Maybe they took off for one of those all-inclusive deals down to Cancun.”

  “I don’t know. I think you know more than you’re telling me,” said Joshua.

  “I promise we’ll do whatever we can to find her,” said David. “Right now I need to stay focused on getting you out of here. You need to stay focused on your job.”

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “One of the sentries started walking to the big building,” said Joshua.

  “Probably taking a head break,” said David before pressing his transmitter.

  “Larsen, we have one sentry headed for the big hangar. We’ll let you know when he reappears.”

  “Copy that,” said Larsen. “We have the hangar door open. The plane looks good to go. Chang is ready to start her up. Just to make sure. We’ll shut her down once everything checks out. Keep an eye on the field for a reaction.”

  “Copy. One more thing, Larsen.”

  “Send it.”

  “Four members of the security team have situated themselves between the tarmac and the bladder farm,” said David. “They’ll be crispy critters if you send that fuel sky-high.”

  “Got it,” said Larsen, pausing a few seconds before continuing. “I
have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.”

  “What else is new,” said David.

  “If they don’t move on their own, you might have to start firing a few seconds before I set off the fuel. The soldiers will scramble for the tarmac at the first sign of gunfire,” said Larsen.

  “Or they’ll guard the fuel,” said David.

  “Trust me. Nobody will want to be anywhere near that fuel in a gunfight,” said Larsen.

  “Good point. We’ll keep an eye on it.”

  “Chang just started the engine. Any reaction?” said Larsen.

  “Stand by,” he said before turning to Joshua. “Chang just started the plane. Check for a reaction. Anything different with security or the refueling crew.”

  “I didn’t hear it,” said Joshua.

  “Neither did I.”

  He scanned with his rifle scope, not seeing any obvious reaction. They watched for several seconds, coming to the conclusion that the noise from the rotors on the tarmac had drowned out the Cessna’s engine.

  “Larsen, I’m not seeing any kind of reaction from the soldiers. We didn’t hear it either,” said David.

  “Perfect. I’m going to have Chang shut down while I run my errands,” said Larsen.

  “Give the sentry some time to do his business and rejoin the others,” said David.

  “Let me know as soon as he rejoins the others,” said Larsen. “I’m going to get in the best position to sabotage one of the bladders.”

  “You’ll have to clear some open space to do that,” said David.

  “I’m counting on my old college arm.”

  He gauged the distance from the closest building to the bladders. That was going to be one hell of a throw. Actually, he didn’t see how it was humanly possible, unless Larsen played centerfield in college.

  “That’s one hell of a throw,” said David. “You might want to rethink that plan.”

  “Did the sentry reach the big hangar yet?”

  “He’s almost there.”

  “I have a better idea,” said Larsen. “Let me know if anyone else heads to the hangar.”