Cataclysm: V Plague Book 18

by Dirk Patton

  29

  It was closer to five minutes before I heard the unmistakable thrum of a Sea Hawk’s rotor. Almost simultaneously came the ripping sound of a minigun. Half a dozen fast bursts, then another that went on for a few seconds before it fell silent. I moved to the door when Martinez brought the big helo into a hover and descended to touch down in a large open area outside the warehouse. I trotted out and leapt up into the aircraft, shouting for Martinez to shut down.

  “Our orders are to extract you, sir,” one of the men said, looking at Martinez and twirling his finger.

  She ignored him and shut down the engines. He frowned at her before turning back to face me.

  “Got a Russian agent somewhere in the immediate area,” I said. “That’s why the snipers were still in place. We need to catch the bitch.”

  He looked at me for a second, then turned his head away and mumbled into a radio. He got a fast response, turning back and nodding.

  “What do you want us to do?” he asked.

  “Building to building search. Start with that one.”

  I pointed at the closest structure to the warehouse I’d been taken to. I couldn’t have been more than ten seconds behind Viktoriya when I’d run out the door, but she had already disappeared. There were only so many places she could have reached in that amount of time. Not that she couldn’t have moved on while I was waiting for air support, but we had to start somewhere.

  “Want me to look at your arm?” one of the other Marines asked.

  “I’m okay. Just find the bitch.”

  They didn’t waste any more time before leaping out of the helo and running for the building I’d indicated. I leapt down and headed back for the warehouse.

  “What are you doing?” Martinez called, running to keep up.

  “They had Joe Revard.”

  Dashing back inside, I ran to the chair my friend was strapped to and knelt next to him. He was awake, but barely. His head bobbed weakly as he tried to look through eyes that were swollen shut from the beating he’d taken.

  “You’re okay,” I said gently. “It’s John Chase.”

  I couldn’t tell if he nodded or it was just motion from his inability to hold his head steady.

  “Shtuuupid... fucking whhhhite man,” he mumbled through his shattered mouth.

  Martinez dropped to her knees next to me, a knife in her hand. She began cutting the nylon zip ties that had been used to restrain Joe. He started to slump as they came free and I gathered him into my arms as gently as I could.

  “Hang on, Injun Joe. I got ya, buddy.”

  “POLICE! ON THE GROUND! ON THE GROUND!”

  “Put the knife down where they can see it,” I said softly to Martinez before looking over my shoulder.

  Half a dozen cops in black body armor were between us and the door, M4 rifles pointed at us. I could see more in the shadows, spreading out to clear the building.

  “I’m Colonel Chase, US Army,” I called. “Got an injured man here. I’m standing up with him and need an ambulance.”

  “GET ON THE GROUND!”

  Frustration sent a fresh dump of adrenaline surging through me.

  “I’m standing up with an injured man in my arms, goddamn it!” I yelled.

  The cops kept screaming commands that I ignored as I slowly lifted Joe. Cradling him in my arms, I took a step forward and glared at the cops who had their weapons aimed at my face.

  “Get him an ambulance or get the fuck out of my way. NOW!”

  They had stopped screaming and five seconds ticked by as they stared at me in shock. Then the officer in command lowered his rifle and spoke into a radio.

  “Medics are coming,” he said after receiving an unintelligible response.

  I nodded and walked to the door, the cops slowly lowering their rifles and staring at Joe as I pushed through. Martinez stayed tight on my back and we emerged into daylight as an ambulance roared up and pulled to a stop. The EMTs grabbed a gurney from the back and met me halfway, then helped support Joe as I placed him on it as carefully as I could. I stepped back as they went to work, stabilizing him before heading for the hospital.

  I glanced at Martinez and flicked my eyes at the Sea Hawk. She got the message and began to subtly move in that direction. Turning to the cop who seemed to be in charge, I didn’t like how his weapon was still in his hands and not slung.

  “There’s a Russian agent in the area. We need to find her.”

  He looked at me with flat eyes and shook his head.

  “You’re not doing anything. There’s four bodies inside.”

  “All Russian,” I said, facing him fully. “And you’re out of your depth unless you’re going to help search.”

  He stared at me and I couldn’t tell if he was offended or just unable to make a decision. There was the sound of more cars and he glanced over my shoulder. I turned as several marked police cars led three more unmarked units to a stop. As the new arrival got out, I recognized the patrol Sergeant, and his Lieutenant and Captain.

  Everyone paused as the ambulance turned around and pulled away with its siren blaring then I was surrounded by a bunch of unsmiling cops.

  “There’s a warrant for your arrest,” the Captain said, making a small gesture to the SWAT cops.

  I tensed as three of them stepped forward, then everyone hesitated as a pair of Super Cobras suddenly appeared overhead.

  “Look,” I said, much more patiently than I felt. “We’ve got a Russian agent in the immediate area and she needs to be located and captured before she escapes. This is a little more important, to all of us. Either help or get the hell out of the way.”

  “Not how it works,” the Captain said.

  The SWAT officers pressed in but hesitated to put their hands on me. That was a good thing as my adrenaline was flowing and my mood was quickly disintegrating. Across the way I saw Chapman’s Marines emerge from searching a building and pause when they got a look at all the cops. Martinez had made it to the helo and was climbing into the cockpit. I shook my head and they got the message, running to the aircraft and climbing aboard.

  “You’re going to help search for her. When she’s in custody, I’ll go willingly. Until then, you’re interfering in a national security matter.”

  He snorted and shook his head, stepping forward and thrusting his face into mine. I could smell garlic on his breath and used a considerable amount of self-control to not twist his little pencil neck into a pretzel.

  “You can go easy, or you can go hard,” he sneered. “Big shot. Fucking hero. This is my world, asshole, and you’re not coming into it and telling me what’s going to happen.”

  I held his eyes, gritting my teeth to control the anger that was surging inside me. He must have seen some of it in my face because he suddenly stepped back and ordered his men to take me into custody. I was grabbed and someone tried to take me to the ground, but at this point I was immovable. Two cops grasped my arms and tried to force them behind my back, but again they were outmatched.

  Then, the free for all started as more men bull rushed me. Despite the Berserker inside begging to be unleashed, I resisted the urge and used my greater agility and strength to push each attacker aside. I saw a club coming for my head from the right, grabbing it in mid-swing and jerking it from the cop’s hand before snapping it in half. A Taser was pressed to my back and I spun, slapping it away and sending the officer tumbling across the asphalt.

  While all of this was happening, Martinez got the Sea Hawk’s engines started. The Super Cobras spread apart to give her room, then she was in the air, but stayed at a hover with the landing gear only a couple of feet above the ground.

  There was a momentary lull as the cops began to regroup. They stared at me with a mix of anger and confusion. Then the Captain drew his pistol and pointed it at me. In an instant my mind analyzed the situation. I didn’t think he’d really shoot an unarmed man, and I was close enough to take one step forward and snatch it from his hand. But if I did, there were too many
pissed off cops who would then be justified in ventilating my hide.

  “Your choice,” the Captain called, shouting to be heard over the hovering Sea Hawk.

  The thought of surrender was repulsive, but I was out of options unless I was willing to kill all of them and take some potentially fatal wounds in the process. I wasn’t that far gone. Close, but there was still a degree of reason inside me. With a sigh, I held my hands out in surrender, but they never had the chance to touch me.

  With a roar, the Sea Hawk spun around, still only a few feet above the ground and came directly at us. With shouts of alarm, the cops scattered like leaves in a strong wind. Martinez whipped the big helo around, stopping on a dime in a rock steady hover with the open side door only thirty feet in front of me. Surging forward, I took five long strides before leaping aboard, then she took us straight up so fast I wasn’t sure my stomach would ever catch up.

  Looking down, I saw the cops pick themselves up off the ground and stare back at us. The Captain was already on a radio and a few seconds later I saw a small police helicopter buzzing in from over the marina. Martinez adjusted the radio mic in front of her mouth and I could see her lips moving. She was still speaking when one of the Marine Super Cobras peeled off and intercepted the police air unit. I’ve got no idea if they had a brief chat on the radio or merely the sight of the heavily armed combat helo was sufficient, but the pilot decided he didn’t need to be in the area.

  “We need to search for Viktoriya,” I shouted at Martinez after donning a headset.

  “And how are you going to do that? Take a look to the north. There’s about half the police department on the way, and I think you’ve pissed them off enough for one day.”

  I looked in the direction she’d indicated, grumbling to myself when I saw what had to be at least twenty more marked units with roof lights flashing, speeding toward the location.

  “You see any sign of the bitch?” I asked the Marine’s squad leader.

  “Nothing. Checked two buildings, but nobody’s been inside for a long time. Undisturbed dust on the floor in both.”

  Fuck!

  “What’re we doing, sir?” Martinez called over the intercom. “Fuel’s about to become a problem.”

  “Take me to the hospital where Rachel is,” I answered immediately, planning to call Chapman and have him meet me there with Mavis.

  “Bad idea,” she said immediately. “Civilian hospital. Cops’ll know and this time there will be enough show up to take you down.”

  I took a deep breath and held it, struggling to keep from screaming in rage. Finally, I let it out and nodded to myself that Martinez was right.

  “Get me to Pearl.”

  30

  Darkness fell earlier than normal due to the heavy cloud cover. It had stopped raining half an hour earlier, but everything was still wet. Water fell sporadically from all the trees and a steady drip, drip, drip sounded from the house’s downspouts.

  Irina involuntarily shivered when they left the warmth of the home but didn’t voice any complaints. She’d found a pair of dull shears and had fashioned ponchos for each of them from blankets. Next, she’d cut holes for their heads and arms in large plastic garbage bags which were pulled over the fabric to prevent it from becoming water logged if it began raining again. The added warmth was welcome, especially as the wind whipped in off the cold water of the Pacific.

  Moving silently, Strickland led the way across the estate’s grounds and through a gate that opened onto the beach. He didn’t fail to notice the apprehensive looks Irina was casting at the rough water, but she kept it together.

  Several of the mansions that fronted the beach had burned and Strickland bypassed them after a careful scan for infected. He was hoping that most, if not all, of the females in town had been drawn away in pursuit of the Russian convoy. But he wasn’t going to bet their lives on it.

  Ten minutes later he stopped them with a clenched fist held in the air, then signaled they should wait for him. Creeping forward, he moved to another gate that guarded against beach goers accessing an estate even larger than where they had taken refuge. After several minutes of patiently watching and listening, he waved them forward and pushed through onto the mansion’s grounds.

  Crossing what had once been a lush lawn that was as large as a football field, he circled around the main home and pulled up against an only slightly smaller structure. Motioning for them to wait, he cracked a door open and slipped through to the darkness inside. It was nearly fifteen minutes before he poked his head out and gave them a clear signal.

  Strickland silently closed the door behind them and they all blinked when he turned on a small light. Igor and Irina looked around the cavernous building in wonder. They were standing amidst a car collection that included everything from a Model T Ford to a sinister looking Bugatti.

  “Oh...” Irina said.

  “Something else, ain’t it?” Strickland said with a grin.

  “When you said you had found a car, I thought perhaps you meant something like a Chevy,” Irina said.

  “There’s one of those. Right over there. 1969 Chevelle Super Sport and it looks better than the day it came off the assembly line!”

  “But these are museum pieces! They are not practical for our need. Do they even run?”

  “Oh, they run. Already started a couple of them.”

  “How run?” Igor asked, slowly circling a pristine DeLorean. “Battery die. Gas bad.”

  “Un uh,” Strickland said, shaking his head. “Batteries are on trickle chargers connected to a solar panel. And there’s no way in hell someone who collects cars like these would ever allow a drop of ethanol blended fuel in one of them. These babies have real gas in ‘em, and it keeps a hell of a lot longer!”

  “I am not sure I understand all of that, but I will accept your word,” Irina said. “Which one are we taking?”

  “Follow me.”

  Strickland led the way, weaving between the cars and coming to a stop next to a brutish looking Ford pickup. He looked at them with a grin that faded when neither seemed impressed.

  “Oh, come on,” he said. “Ford Raptor!”

  “These are common,” Irina said dismissively. “Why would a collector waste money and floor space for one?”

  “First of all, Raptors aren’t that common. And,” Strickland said, reaching through the open window and snatching a paper off the dash, “this is the first one that rolled off the assembly line. Ever. Numero uno. That makes it special!”

  He held the paper out but Irina ignored it and Igor rolled his eyes.

  “Lots cars, no guns. American stupid.”

  “Whatever, dude,” Strickland said, throwing his hands up. “Attitude like that, you can walk.”

  “Be safer,” Igor said, grinning at him.

  “Don’t talk shit about my driving. You got no idea!”

  “Boys!” Irina said sharply, silencing a retort from Igor before it could come out. “Can we please focus on why we are here?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Strickland said, pulling the driver’s door open and climbing into the cab.

  “Da,” Igor said, looking around and walking to the closest roll up door.

  Shaking her head, Irina got into the back seat and scooted to the middle so she could see through the windshield. Igor released the door’s locks as Strickland started the truck. The big V-8 engine rumbled loudly in the garage as Igor pulled the door to chest height before changing his grip in preparation to shove it fully open.

  Before he could give it a push, arms snaked in from the darkness, wrapped around his legs and yanked. With a surprised cry, he fell backward, landing hard on the polished concrete before being pulled through the opening and disappearing from sight.

  Strickland was out of the cab in a flash, dashing across the floor and throwing himself down to slide through the gap. Irina, suddenly finding herself alone, was stunned into immobility for a moment, but the scream of a female slithering beneath the door into the garage sp
urred her into action.

  She scrambled into the empty driver’s seat, watching four more infected enter the garage. All of them immediately zeroed in on the noise of the idling truck and sprinted directly for it. Fumbling for a grip, she closed the door an instant before the closest infected slammed into it. The other four quickly arrived and they all began pounding on the glass and sheet metal as they screamed their rage at being denied an easy kill.

  Irina hesitated, then looked down and fumbled with switches until finding the one for the headlights. They filled the garage with a stark white light and reflected back at her off the heavily tinted glass of the door. They also shone through the gap at the bottom, but she couldn’t see Igor or Strickland. Both had moved away from the building, or been carried away.

  Jaw set, Irina shifted the truck into drive and stomped on the accelerator. The truck shot forward, surprising her with its power and pressing her back into the seat. Engine bellowing, she steered directly for the door and straightened her arms in anticipation of the impact.

  The heavy truck blasted through the door with a horrible, rending screech of overstressed metal, but she hardly felt the collision. Emerging into the darkness, the Ford shook off shards of shattered glass like a beast emerging from the water.

  Ahead, Irina saw the two men battling with a group of females. They were hopelessly outnumbered, even with Igor firing his pistol and killing several. Strickland was limited to hands and feet and he was fighting for his life as was Igor who was about to be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

  Foot still pressed to the floor, Irina steered directly at the melee, slapping her hand onto the horn and holding it down a second before the massive grill slammed into the females. She had time to see Igor toss a female aside and shove Strickland clear, then he dove out of view as the truck pulped several infected into the pavement.

  Irina slammed on the brakes, the pickup screeching to a shuddering halt. She looked around frantically, catching her breath when a female slammed against the driver’s door. But it wasn’t an attack, it was Strickland finishing off the bitch before he ran around the front of the truck.