by Dirk Patton
“He said the world is dying, sir. Says the Admiral knew and hid it from us. Says we’ll all die if we don’t move to Arizona with them.”
I was taken aback at first, then recognized Barinov’s play. Viktoriya had failed, so he’d moved on to plan B. But there had to be more.
“What else?”
He took a deep breath before continuing.
“Said you were a war criminal, sir. Says we have to turn you over for trial before we can come to the oasis.”
And there it was. The wily old fuck had found a way to both undermine Admiral Packard’s authority and get his hands on me so he could be saved. I should have seen it coming but honestly, I don’t have one of those Machiavellian minds.
“Don’t believe everything some asshole on the television tells you, Seaman.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, not sounding convinced.
I was glad we’d reached our destination and dismissed the driver once we stepped out of the Hummer. I’d find another way for Rachel and Mavis to get to our quarters.
“I can’t go in there like this.”
Rachel was looking down at the hospital gown, her feet thrust into a pair of untied boots.
“The important parts are covered, and the Admiral won’t care.”
She gave me a look, sighed and shook her head.
“What if I care?”
I almost said something about only a woman caring but figured that would get me punched. Clamping my mouth shut, I took her hand and led the way to the entrance.
“What are you going to do about that war criminal crap?”
“Don’t know yet. Figure the rest of it’s the immediate problem. People are going to go batshit.”
We made our way into the building, being admitted on sight by the Marine guards. Seeing them reminded me of Major Black and I gritted my teeth. Another name on the long list of dead for which Barinov needed to pay.
There were several security checkpoints within the building, but we breezed through each. Rachel got a couple of curious looks, but no one cared about the way she was dressed.
Admiral Packard’s personal secretary was seated at her desk when we entered his office suite. It was strategically placed to guard access to his door and even though she was a civilian and on the downhill side of sixty, I had a funny feeling there would be hell to pay if anyone tried to slip past her.
“The Admiral had to step out,” she said when she saw us, then jumped to her feet and bustled to a small closet where she retrieved a lightweight overcoat. “Here you go, sweetie.”
She held it out and Rachel gratefully slipped her arms in and belted it around her waist. The two women smiled knowingly to each other.
“Go on in his office,” the Admiral’s secretary said. “Mavis and Dog are in there.”
“Did you see the broadcast?” I asked as Rachel hurried through the closed door.
“I did, Colonel. It’s going to be a real shit-show for a while.”
I blinked in surprise and she laughed at me, her eyes twinkling.
“My dear departed husband was the Admiral’s Command Master Chief since he was only a Captain. I wasn’t married to a sailor for thirty years without picking up a little salty language.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Where’s the Admiral?”
“Already working on a speech. He wants to get on air as soon as possible and set the record straight before all hell breaks loose.”
I nodded, then was nearly bowled over when Mavis and Dog plowed into me in excitement to be reunited.
“Can I trouble you to find me some transportation?” I asked.
The secretary smiled, gently patted Mavis on the arm and made a quick call on her desk phone.
“There will be a vehicle waiting by the time you get downstairs,” she said.
“Please let the Admiral know I’ll be back as soon as I get my family settled.”
“Take your time, Colonel. He’s in the conference room with Captain West and a few advisors. Unless you’re a whiz at writing speeches, you’re probably better off with them.”
She looked at Mavis and smiled. I thanked her and put Mavis on her feet, then led everyone back outside to where a Humvee waited with one of the Admiral’s Marine security detail behind the wheel. A second Hummer, stuffed to the gills with armed Marines idled right behind it.
“Security for your family, sir,” the driver explained when I tilted my head at the other vehicle.
I wasn’t sure if I had to thank the Admiral or his secretary, but someone had definitely just made it to the top of my Christmas list.
40
The Ford truck rolled quietly down a major thoroughfare in Oxnard, only a few miles from Point Mugu Naval Air Station. Strickland still drove with the lights off so they wouldn’t stand out in the night and was leaned forward over the steering wheel for a better view of the road ahead. He wasn’t sure if it actually helped, but it made him feel better.
“There!”
He hit the brakes and turned to look down the side street Igor was pointing at.
“What?”
“Cars. Many,” Igor said, his finger thumping the inside of the window as he pointed.
Strickland shifted into reverse and allowed the truck to idle backwards a few yards into the intersection he’d just crossed. Coming to a stop, he looked past Igor and saw a small used car dealership. Nodding, he cranked the wheel over and drove the short distance.
They sat in the street looking over the cars, trucks and SUVs that filled the lot to capacity. Most were several model years old, but still new enough that it was unlikely they’d have an immediate mechanical issue.
Finding a dealer had been Strickland’s goal. There would be keys for each vehicle, somewhere, which eliminated the need to try and hotwire a car. A dealership would have what they’d need to deal with a dead battery and might even have some treated gas in storage. All things that made it a much better option than just picking a car that was sitting on the side of the road.
Strickland exchanged a nod with Igor and reached for the door but paused when Irina put her hand on his arm.
“Are you sure this is necessary?” she asked.
“Orders are orders,” he said with a shrug. “That makes it necessary.”
Irina understood that only too well, but she’d grown accustomed to the SEAL’s presence. Without him, they wouldn’t have gotten out of Siberia and certainly wouldn’t have survived arriving in Santa Barbara. She wasn’t eager to see him go.
“I am sorry,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “That was a selfish question.”
A beat passed then a big grin spread across Strickland’s face and he turned to Igor.
“See that? I think your girl’s got the hots for me!”
Igor frowned, not understanding. With an exasperated tone, Irina translated for him. The instant she finished speaking, he barked a laugh and slapped Strickland on the shoulder.
“Where vodka you drink?” Igor asked, still laughing.
“You don’t see it?” Strickland asked, trying to sound sincere.
Irina rolled her eyes and smacked both men, telling them to get out. Chuckling and shaking his head, Igor popped his door and stepped onto the pavement as Strickland exited the other side. The time for joking had passed and both men thoroughly scanned the area before Igor waved for Irina to join them.
Moving into the lot, Strickland focused on SUVs and trucks that were equipped with four-wheel drive. He didn’t anticipate needing to leave pavement, but there was absolutely no reason to not be as prepared as possible.
These three, he signaled.
Strickland had identified a pickup, and two Jeeps. The lifted Grand Cherokee with aggressive off-road tires was his preference, but they’d discussed how best to do this. He only wanted to have to go in search of keys one time. But since there was no guarantee the vehicle he selected would start or run, Irina had suggested he choose three options. He’d seen the logic in that and agreed.
<
br /> Now, with stock numbers memorized, he headed for the sales office as Irina and Igor kept watch. Surprisingly, not only was the door not locked, but the keys for all the vehicles were out in the open on a pegboard. Instead of searching for the three he needed, Strickland grabbed the whole board and carried it out.
“That is one way to solve the problem,” Irina said drily when he rejoined them.
With a grin, he pulled a set of keys for the Cherokee, peered at them in the darkness and pressed the unlock button on the fob. To everyone’s great surprise, the Jeep’s lights flashed and the locks thunked open. But when Strickland tried the ignition, there was only the clicking sound of a dead battery.
“But it unlocked,” Irina protested.
“Doesn’t take much juice to drive a lock motor,” Strickland said. “Takes a hell of a lot to crank an engine.”
While Irina moved the Ford truck into the lot, he went in search of jumper cables. Again, they were easily found in the sales office. Feeling a slight sense of optimism, Strickland shut the thoughts down immediately. Just because things were coming easy at the moment didn’t mean everything wasn’t about to go to shit.
With Igor keeping watch, he got the cables connected to the two vehicles. The Jeep cranked slowly but the motor finally caught. It idled rough at first and long unused belts squealed in protest, but after a couple of minutes it settled down. Happy to note over half a tank of fuel, Strickland removed the jumper cables and threw them in the backseat, before turning to face Irina and Igor.
“Thank you. For everything,” Irina said, stretching up and kissing him on the cheek.
“See?” Strickland said, looking at Igor. “She’s kissing me now!”
With a grin, Igor stepped forward, wrapped him into a bear hug and held him tight for a few seconds.
“Be carefully,” he said, drawing a small snort of laughter from Strickland as they separated.
“Careful, not carefully, dumbass. And you, too!”
He looked each of them in the eye for a few moments, squeezed Irina’s hand then got into the Jeep and quickly pulled away.
“It is going to be strange without him,” Irina said in Russian as Igor escorted her to the Ford’s passenger seat.
“We will see him again,” he said, gently closing the door.
Getting behind the wheel, Igor took a moment to adjust the seat then they were back on the road, heading south toward Los Angeles. They drove for several miles without speaking and Irina had nodded off when Igor suddenly slammed on the brakes.
Startled awake, she grabbed for anything to hold on to as he threw the truck in reverse and floored the throttle. It shot backwards with a roar, but it was too late. The Russian soldiers manning the roadblock had seen them and within seconds an eight wheeled BTR was in pursuit.
The Raptor easily outdistanced the much heavier vehicle. Looking through the rear window, Irina heaved a sigh of relief as she turned to face forward in her seat. Before she could say anything to Igor, a brilliant spotlight pierced the darkness, blinding them as a Hind gunship swooped into a hover directly to their front.
41
I walked into my quarters after taking a tour of the perimeter of the base with Colonels Blanchard and Pointere. Rachel was lounged on the sofa, flipping through a book that obviously wasn’t holding her interest.
“What ya reading?” I asked, shrugging out of my vest and piling my weapons on top.
“Something really stupid about zombies taking over the world,” she said, tossing the book aside. “How are things out there?”
“The zombies are trying to take over,” I said with a sarcastic grin.
“Funny. Seriously, is it getting bad?”
“Not good. Wasn’t good this afternoon, but it’s getting a little crazy now that it’s dark.”
I went into the kitchen and grabbed a cold beer, then went out onto the lanai. Rachel tagged along, giving me a look when I lit a cigarette.
“Where’s Mavis and Dog?”
“Down the hall, playing with Lucas’s kids. He said he’d walk her to our door when it’s time.”
I nodded, took a long pull of the beer and settled into a chair.
“How you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just trying to stay relaxed. So, tell me about the protestors.”
“A few thousand. Most look like college age kids. Lots of signs and outrage and shouting stupid ass slogans. The usual shit.”
“Nothing violent?”
I shook my head after taking another drink.
“It’s still early,” she said. “What happens later, especially if they’re drinking?”
“Long as they don’t try to storm the wire, they can scream all they want.”
“And if they do?”
“They’ll regret it. There’s enough CS gas queued up to make them wish they’d never gotten out of bed this morning. And for those who brought masks, the Marines are ready with a bunch of ADSs.”
“With what? I don’t know what either of those are.”
I paused long enough to finish my beer before answering.
“CS is just military grade tear gas. ADS is an Active Denial System. A big, truck mounted microwave emitter. Hurts like hell, or so I’m told, without causing any permanent damage. Makes it feel like your skin’s on fire.”
Rachel sat quietly, thinking about what I’d just told her. I took the opportunity to grab a fresh beer from the kitchen.
“And what if that doesn’t stop them?” she asked when I was seated again.
“It will,” I said, concerned she was going to stress herself again. “You don’t need to worry.”
She didn’t press the issue and we sat in silence, me drinking my beer and finishing the cigarette.
“Did it help? The Admiral going on television?”
“No idea,” I said truthfully. “But it couldn’t hurt, and he had to set the record straight.”
“Then why so many protestors?”
“Because there’s always people looking for any excuse to throw a temper tantrum, and Barinov gave them one. It’s not about reality or the truth or anything else.”
She nodded slowly, looking at me in the dark.
“God, I want one of those,” she said, staring at my cigarette.
I quickly stubbed out the smoke. She looked longingly at the butt, then sighed and turned to stare up at the night sky.
“I can just faintly hear them chanting,” she said a few minutes later.
Unfortunately, with my virus enhanced senses, I could hear them as clearly as if they were only a hundred yards away, not a mile. But even worse, when the wind was just right I could smell them. Could detect the odor of anger from the protestors and a sharp tang of fear from the Marines guarding the perimeter.
I knew the Marines weren’t afraid. At least not in the traditional sense. With my newfound olfactory ability, I’d learned that the smell of fear didn’t always mean someone was frightened. The human body has the same reaction to stress over uncertainty. And I knew for a fact that none of the men and women protecting the base wanted things to escalate to the point where physical force was required for them to do their jobs. They’d do it, but they didn’t want to be placed in that situation.
“What’s going to happen?” she asked suddenly.
I stood and went to the kitchen, returning with a fresh beer for me and a water for Rachel. Back in my chair, I lit a new smoke and popped the cap off the bottle.
“Still up in the air. I was supposed to go in with a team in a couple of days, but I’ve got a better idea.”
“Really?”
I nodded and sipped the beer, not wanting to meet her eyes.
“Sometimes, you have to do the unexpected. Be a little crazier than the enemy believes you really are.”
“You’re not Superman, you know. Even if you think you are.”
“Yep, can’t fly,” I said, trying and failing to lighten the mood.
“And bullets don’t bounce off you
r chest, either, smart ass. And why does it have to be you? There’s got to be a few hundred hairy chested bad-asses just chomping at the bit to go kill some Russians.”
I sighed and took another drink before answering.
“You know the answer to that.”
“No, I really don’t. I thought the whole revenge thing was behind you. So, what does that leave? Ego? No one is as good as you, so you’re the one who has to go into the lion’s den?”
I shook my head.
“It’s not revenge and it’s not ego. It’s for you. And them,” I said, pointing at her belly. “And Mavis.”
“Bullshit,” Rachel said under her breath as she turned away from me.
“My children will not grow up as second-class subjects of the Russian empire. Life’s going to be hard enough for them, even without being subjugated as slaves in every respect other than the name.”
She turned to look at me, damp eyes reflecting the pale moonlight. I stared back for almost a minute before continuing.
“And why me? Right now, I’m the best chance we have. You’ve seen what I can do, thanks to the virus. I know I’m not Superman, but I’ve got a significant advantage no one else does.”
Rachel shook her head and went back to watching the moon.
“You have any idea how many troops he’ll have guarding him and that they won’t be anticipating you’ll try something like this? And you really think you can fight your way through all that?”
“With some help,” I said, bordering on saying too much.
“You said you’re going alone.”
“I didn’t exactly say that.”
“Igor?” she whispered, thinking she’d figured it out.
I shook my head.
“Don’t know where he is and no way to contact him. Got something else up my sleeve.”
“And you’re not going to tell me.”
I drank some more beer and thought about what she’d just said. This was a strange situation for me. From the moment I’d met Rachel, we’d been running and fighting. Not only had she been aware of every plan and its details, it had been necessary for her to be.
Now, back in the real world with all the secrets and shadows that accompany a military operation, there were a couple of little things called Classified and Need To Know. Rachel’s curiosity didn’t meet either of these thresholds. But... fuck it.