by Patton, Dirk
Climbing back aboard, I gently accelerated until I reached a compromise between speed and fear of completely losing control and crashing my only transportation. The speedometer needle hovered just over thirty-five kilometers per hour. This was going to be a much longer ride than I’d thought.
30
I had too much time to think as I rode across the vast emptiness of the Australian outback. Normally I don’t mind being alone. I actually enjoy time to myself when I don’t have to participate in a conversation or worry about what someone else may say or do. But there are times when it’s best to not be alone, and this was one of them.
Within a few miles, I was in a funk. Worry over Rachel and the baby, Mavis, Dog and everyone else I cared about very nearly consumed me. And the truth of the matter is it was selfish worry. Not concern for how they would survive without me, but how I would survive without them.
Of course, I’m not talking about physical survival. That’s easy. Well, not so easy in the world the virus had shaped, but still easier than emotional survival. That was something that had never been a problem for me. I’ve always been able to shut down my feelings and compartmentalize them, which in many ways is an advantage. But now? Well, they were kicking my ass.
I hadn’t seen any more kangaroos as I drove, and for a short time I’d forgotten Jessica’s warning that there was a herd of humans coming along behind them. That lapse in memory nearly cost me my life when a pair of females suddenly appeared out of the darkness.
With my current state of mind, I had been so obsessed with gloomy thoughts that I’d failed to notice them racing in from the side. The first indication I had of a threat was when one of them hit me with a flying tackle and tore me off the ATV’s seat.
We hit the rock studded ground hard and tumbled, limbs flailing. As we came to a stop against the base of some thickly growing brush, the second one piled on and both began trying to slash my eyes out. Their screams were loud in my ears as I clamped onto a throat and squeezed while punching the other in the side of the head.
I felt the bones in the orbit around her eye crack inward from the force of my blow and she was knocked several feet to the side. This gave me an instant to deal with the one whose throat I was crushing. Bringing my free hand up, I swatted her arm away, grabbed the top of her head and twisted in opposite directions. Her neck snapped like a dry twig, the body going limp on top of me.
Flinging her aside, I leapt to my feet, feeling the adrenaline surging in my system. The next female was already on the attack, flying at me with her arms outstretched and hands curled into claws. I met her, hand coming up and clamping onto her jaw where it joined her throat.
All of her momentum meant nothing, and I lifted as I drove her backward. Her feet dangled in the air as I took two long strides and pushed hard. She went horizontal for a moment, three feet off the ground, then I drove her head down with every ounce of my body weight. There was a sickening crunch, and I felt her skull deform beneath me.
I didn’t even bother checking. She was dead, there was no doubt. Straightening, I glanced around and saw figures moving across the sand. None were charging in, somehow having failed to note the brief struggle.
Moving carefully, I went to the ATV, unsure where to go after that. This was obviously the leading edge of the herd, which meant I had an opportunity to escape. Even with the damage, the machine could still move faster than even the most fleet of foot female. But that wasn’t the issue.
They were coming down the road I needed to use. And would continue to do so for a long time. Sure, I could set out across the desert, but other than following the roads, I had no idea how to get to Coober Pedy. Even if I did, I didn’t have a compass to keep me on course as I crossed the unmarked emptiness between here and there.
“No choice,” I mumbled, swinging a leg over the seat and climbing on.
In the near distance, three females had just broken into a sprint in my direction. They’d seen me or smelled me. Didn’t matter which. It was time to go.
Making a best guess, I spun the ATV around and bounced over the low berm at the edge of the road which had been created by whatever machine kept the surface graded. Within only a few minutes, I could no longer see the pursuing females. I was zipping along, up and down low hills, slowing only to negotiate a couple of dry washes that were studded with rocks.
Climbing a series of progressively taller hills, I pulled to a stop when I topped out on what in the American southwest would be called a mesa. Checking my back-trail, I was happy to see nothing in pursuit, or at least nothing close enough to be visible. Turning to the northeast, I grimaced at a dark blotch on the desert floor. It was the herd, and the view from my vantage point was enough to reinforce my decision to strike out across the desert.
Jessica had said the herd was about five thousand strong, but it seemed larger. Sitting on the idling machine, it was all but impossible to estimate how fast they were moving. However, I knew from experience that unless there’s something ahead to excite them, even the females only travel at about the speed of a leisurely stroll.
But even with that slow pace, there was a problem. When I’d left Lucas’s, I hadn’t planned to have my speed limited by a damaged vehicle. I’d thought I could make it into town and back before the herd arrived in the area of his compound. Time enough to evacuate ahead of them. I needed to slow them down. Or better, divert them to a safe direction. But how?
I considered using the ATV to buzz around the leading edge and draw them onto a new course. Then remembered the Marines trying that in Texas. It hadn’t worked. I had to admit to myself that I’d never seen the infected successfully diverted once they were in a herd. God knows, I’d tried a few times.
That left two options. Kill them all or go back and evacuate everyone before the herd arrived.
The first choice wasn’t even a remote possibility with the weapons I had available to me…
As I had that thought, I looked up at the sky. Where were the bats? What had made them follow me away from Lucas’s, then save me from the kangaroos? And why had they left? Had something else about me changed?
31
Commander Moore led the way back to his quarters at a rapid pace, sailors scrambling to get out of his way as he steamed ahead with the XO at his heels. Passing an enlisted man, he barked an order without slowing.
“Find COB and have him report to my quarters. Immediately!”
“Aye, aye, Skipper,” the sailor answered, heading off at a dead run.
Pushing into the cramped room, the Captain dropped into his chair and stared at Small.
“Tell me again how well you know this Marine,” he said, then raised a hand to stop the XO from speaking. “Hold off until COB gets here so we don’t have to repeat ourselves.”
Small nodded, trying not to fidget as he thought about the enormity of their situation and what they were contemplating.
Less than a minute passed before there was a sharp rap on the door. Moore called out permission to enter and Master Chief Petty Officer Brooks stepped through.
Brooks was the senior Non-Commissioned Officer aboard the Key West and had spent nearly thirty years in the submarine service. He was a strikingly tall black man with salt and pepper hair shorn close to his skull and had a glare that could strike fear into the hearts of enlisted sailors and junior officers alike. No one, not even the Captain, messed with the Master Chief.
“Wanted to see me, sir?” he asked in a voice that sounded like a gravel crusher.
“Thanks for coming so fast, COB. Have a seat.”
Moore gestured to the side and once Brooks and the XO were seated, he relayed the facts of their current situation. When he finished speaking, he handed a printout of their orders to COB. The Master Chief’s eyebrows went up at this breach in security protocol but made no comment as he carefully read the papers before handing them back.
“Strike you as odd, COB?” Moore asked as he returned the orders to his safe.
“Everything
strikes me as odd these days, Skipper. But yes, I’d agree that something’s fishy about being ordered to meet up with a Russian sub and turn over our guests. Perhaps command has negotiated a truce, and this is our part of the bargain?”
He held Moore with his eyes as the three men considered the comment. Before the silence could become awkward, the Captain shook his head.
“There’s a problem at Pearl,” he said. “The XO is classmates with a Marine who is the head of Admiral Packard’s security detail. He just spoke to him. That’s why we went shallow.”
“What did he say, sir?” Brooks asked, turning his intense gaze to Small.
“He said the shit has hit the fan. Admiral Packard would never authorize this, and we should absolutely not obey the order.”
Brooks’ eyebrows went up a second time and he looked back and forth between the two officers. Small read the man’s expression and decided to provide a summary of facts that had landed them in the quandary they were in.
“We are sent to pick up our two guests and one of our SEALs off the North Korean coast with orders to take them to the west coast of CONUS at all possible speed. There was a full SEAL team on the ground in Siberia, supporting their mission to rescue the Russian Admiral we buried yesterday. Only one of them survived.
“Then, before we’ve even exited the Sea of Japan, the orders you read are received. They’re from valid command authority, but contradict the original tasking given us by Admiral Packard. And not in a manner one might expect, such as bring them to Pearl rather than CONUS. Instead, after losing nearly an entire team of SEALs to extract these people, we’re now supposed to hand them over to the enemy. And the change isn’t coming from the old man himself, who is conveniently out of action at the moment. That sound kosher to you, Master Chief?”
Brooks contemplated the scenario, sitting perfectly still with his eyes locked on the Captain.
“And what are you planning to do, sir?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“I think you already have a good idea, COB,” Moore said. “The orders are suspicious at best. Include the unequivocal warning from a Marine known personally to the XO, who also lives at Admiral Packard’s side… well, I believe we need to think for ourselves and not blindly follow orders in this case.”
There it was. Out in the open. For a few moments it was as if the air had been sucked out of the room.
“War time, sir,” Brooks said gently. “Disobeying an order doesn’t result in a courts martial and dishonorable discharge. Now, they’ll stand us up against the wall and put a bullet in our hearts.”
“Us? Our?”
Moore hadn’t failed to note the words Brooks had chosen to use. He’d served with the Master Chief for over three years. Knew the man didn’t mince words and didn’t misspeak.
“Sir, I worried about you after the attacks. Was genuinely concerned you were about to go off the rails at the loss of your family. And I can’t fault you for that. But you’ve held it together and held this crew together.
“The last time we put into Pearl, there was some talk going around the Chief’s mess about discontent among certain Admirals and Generals over Admiral Packard. Nothing specific, mind you, but enough to perk my ears up. I can’t say that wasn’t foremost in my mind when I learned of the assassination attempt on the old man.
“So, yes sir. I did say Us and Our. You have my support. Besides, if we’re wrong, it doesn’t much matter. An American bullet today or a Russian one tomorrow. Either way, our life expectancy isn’t all that great. Might as well make all the dirty fuckers pay the piper while we still can. Sir.”
The cabin was quiet after Brooks’ speech. He wasn’t a big talker and this was probably the most words either officer had ever heard him string together at once. Moore nodded his thanks and turned to Small.
“XO. Resume original course for CONUS. We’re going to deliver Captain Vostov into the belly of the beast, just as Admiral Packard wanted.”
32
“Sure as hell hope you didn’t just kill two FBI agents,” Black said as they dumped the second corpse onto the floor in Viktoriya’s living room.
He was all but certain they weren’t. FBI would have immediately identified themselves when confronted in the hallway. But that still didn’t erase all worry that he’d suddenly gotten himself into a bind he couldn’t get out of.
“Mafiya thugs,” Viktoriya said, dashing down the hall and disappearing through a door.
Black gave them another look, then leaned down and opened first one man’s shirt, then the other. Tattoos identifying them as members of a Russian organized crime syndicate confirmed what she had told him.
Irritation and concern warred to be his dominant emotion and he strode down the hall, coming to an abrupt stop in the open door Viktoriya had passed through. She was completely nude, in the process of pulling on a pair of underwear. Glancing in his direction, she didn’t react, just continued dressing.
“Why were they here?” he asked.
“I have apparently been targeted,” she said, hooking a bra in place and reaching for a pair of jeans. “The GRU has almost no muscle available in Hawaii, so they use Mafiya enforcers when wet work needs done.”
Black’s phone began ringing and he quickly declined the incoming call without checking the screen.
“Come with me. I’ll take you to Pearl Harbor. You’ll be safe there. Treated well.”
“No thanks,” she said, shrugging into a shirt and fluffing her long pony tail out of the collar. “I have my own contingency plans in case it ever came to this.”
His phone rang again and he glanced at it in irritation. His thumb hovered over the screen as he decided whether or not to answer. After several more rings, he pressed a button and lifted it to his ear.
“Everything okay, Chief?” he asked.
“This isn’t Chief Simmons. I work with her. She’s on an assignment somewhere and left her phone with me,” a voice he’d never heard before whispered.
“What do you want?” Black asked, frowning.
“Get off base if you’re here. If you’re not, don’t come back. Captain West was just arrested and they’re looking for you.”
“What?!”
Black nearly shouted the question, drawing Viktoriya’s attention. She was seated on the edge of a bed, lacing up a pair of low top boots. Pausing at his tone, she watched him with a raised eyebrow.
“Don’t come back, sir! And ditch your phone. They’re already tracking you.”
A click and the caller was gone. Black lowered the phone, staring at it in shock. Arrest order? For what? He hadn’t done anything.
“What was that?” Viktoriya asked.
She was busily concealing several different weapons on her person.
“There’s apparently an arrest order out for me,” he said, looking at her in confusion.
“They are making their move,” she said.
Hurrying to a closet, she took a fully stuffed duffel off a shelf and walked to stand in front of him.
“You are in my way,” she said.
Black shook his head, still struggling with the unexpected turn of events.
“Where are you going?” he asked, stepping aside to allow her to pass.
“Better you don’t know. And you should get out of here. They will track your phone.”
The mystery caller had said he was already being tracked. Looking down, he stared at it a beat before pressing the power button to shut it off. Viktoriya watched him for a moment, then shook her head and snatched it out of his hand.
“That is not sufficient,” she said, walking quickly into the kitchen.
Black followed her, coming around the corner in time to see her drop the phone in a glass bowl and put it in the sink under running water. The device was quickly submerged and she turned the faucet off, leaving it soaking. He started to protest, going silent when a soft chime sounded.
Viktoriya spun to face the front door, suppressed pistol appearing in her hand as if by magic. Blac
k drew his weapon, stepping away from her so they weren’t bunched up if a firefight started.
“What’s wrong?” he hissed without taking his attention off the door.
“The chime means someone is in the hall outside my door. They have not left or it would have sounded again,” she whispered back.
As they watched, the door handle moved ever so slightly. Silently. If they hadn’t been watching, it would have been undetectable.
Black slid farther to the side, pistol up and ready. For the first time since he’d walked into the club the previous evening, he was in a situation that he was comfortable with. Perhaps not happy, but he’d seen a lot of combat during his career and bad guys on the other side of a door didn’t faze him in the least.
One more test of the handle then a pause. Absolute silence from the hall. Without warning, the door suddenly burst in, the jamb shattering as the bolt was torn free. Three bulky men rushed into the room, the one in the lead already pulling the trigger on the small machine pistol in his hand.
The men were professional thugs, not soldiers. They were used to their very presence being intimidating enough, but they also knew they were after a trained GRU officer. So instead of baseball bats and chains, they brought guns. And made about the worst choice of firearm that they could.
The small pistols fired at a ferocious rate and would have certainly frightened the hell out of someone unaccustomed to being shot at. But they were notoriously inaccurate and had the additional drawback of running out of ammunition in about one second flat.
Black, now in partial cover beside a heavy wood bookcase, calmly found his target and dropped the first man through the door with a single shot to the head. The second two hesitated when their leader fell and that was all Viktoriya and Black needed to drop them before they could even get off a shot.
Both stayed ready, weapons trained on the door in case there were more men about to charge through, but the three they’d just killed had been alone. Hurrying forward, Black went to the door, carefully looking at an angle down each direction of the open hall. There was movement, but it was a couple of neighbors, peering through cracked open doors.