V Plague (Book 17): Abaddon

by Patton, Dirk

  “What’s a galah?” I asked.

  Smyth and Lucas chuckled without answering, then Dog and Mavis came running up, Ziggy, Natalie and the kids right behind. They all surrounded Lucas, asking how he was feeling and generally mother hening him to death. I left them to it and made a quick circuit of the truck to see just how bad things were. Mavis and Dog fell in on either side of me as I walked.

  “You need a shower,” she said, flapping a hand in front of her face.

  “Smelled yourself lately?” I asked teasingly.

  “Looked in a mirror lately?” she shot back. “You could start your own blood bank.”

  She thought that was amusing and laughed as I came to a stop near the truck’s front tires. Both were buried to the axle. We were in some sort of natural bowl that over eons had collected everything the rains washed down from higher up the slope. The sand was so soft and deep it was worse than walking on a beach.

  “Ohhhh, damn. Not getting that out,” Mavis said, staring wide eyed.

  “Not with that attitude,” I said. “Now, make yourself useful and go check the truck for a shovel.”

  “What are you going to do with a shovel?” she asked as I knelt and began using my arms to scoop sand away from the tire.

  “Gonna dig a hole and put a certain little girl in it if she doesn’t get her ass in gear and do as I asked,” I said without looking up from my work.

  “Like to see you try,” she said, then vanished before I could respond.

  Smyth was working on the other front tire and Dog flopped down to watch us. I hadn’t even uncovered the bottom of the tire when Mavis returned.”

  “No shovel,” she said.

  “You check the whole truck?” Smyth called before I could ask the same thing.

  “Yes, I did,” Mavis said, sounding indignant at being questioned. “Don’t believe me, go look for yourself.”

  “Easy,” I said to her in a low voice. “Don’t take offense so easy. It’s a sign of weakness.”

  She thought about that for a few moments before dropping down onto the sand and helping me dig.

  “Why?” she asked a minute later.

  “Why, what?”

  “Why is it a sign of weakness?”

  “Because you’re getting upset over something that someone else says or asks when there’s no reason to be. It’s not like he accused you of anything. So, instead of a simple answer, you got defensive, which means you got emotional, which means you revealed a way for someone else to manipulate you. That’s weakness. Understand?”

  “Kind of,” she said. “What would you have said?”

  “Would’ve said ‘yes’ and that would have been the end of it. Unless I didn’t check the whole truck.”

  Mavis kept digging for another minute, then suddenly got to her feet and dusted her hands off.

  “Maybe I should check again,” she said as she walked away.

  Smyth and I glanced at each other and he gave me a knowing smile.

  “You’re really good with her,” Rachel said.

  I hadn’t realized she’d been standing behind me.

  “How’s Lucas?”

  “I’m at a loss,” she said, dropping to her knees and helping me dig. “He shouldn’t even be conscious, let alone on his feet. And he says he’s not in any pain!”

  I nodded without comment.

  “Is that what it’s like for you?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “I feel things, but it’s not pain. Not like we know. It’s just sensations. Kind of like when you leave the dentist’s office and half your face is numb.”

  “You’re numb?” she asked in surprise.

  “Not at all. It seems like I can feel even more than before. But when it comes to injuries, they just don’t hurt. Guess that’s why the infected have always seemed so damn tough.”

  “Found one!”

  Mavis was back with a small folding shovel in her hands. I looked up and smiled at her, taking it and attacking the sand with a renewed vigor. When I had the entire tire excavated, I cleared several feet of sand from behind it before passing the shovel to Smyth.

  “That’s good enough?” Rachel asked, looking dubiously at what I’d accomplished.

  “That and letting a bunch of air out of the tires,” I said.

  My head snapped around when a small pebble bounced off the hood of the truck. It was one of Smyth’s men I’d sent to higher terrain, trying to get our attention. When he saw me looking, he quickly signed that the enemy, which could only mean infected, was approaching. I didn’t like the answers when I asked how many and how long we had before they were on us.

  “Step it up, Smyth. Company on the way,” I said, dropping back to my knees to deflate the tire I’d dug out.

  The thing about lowering the pressure in tires so you can drive on soft sand without getting stuck is the risk of going too far. What you want is the tire to spread out and have a wider footprint so you’re rolling on the surface, not digging in. What you don’t want is to end up with pressure so low that the tire can no longer remain attached to the wheel. Do that, and you’re pretty much... well, the technical term is fucked.

  Fortunately, I’d done this a time or two before when out four-wheeling in the Arizona desert. But never with tires designed to support the weight of a truck this large. There are so many plys of reinforcing belts within the extremely hard rubber that lowering the air pressure made almost no noticeable difference.

  Taking the first tire down as far as I dared, I scrambled through the sand to the one Smyth had dug out. He was just finishing clearing a path behind it and I glanced up at the men on overwatch as air began hissing out of the tire. One of them saw me looking and signed that we had less than five minutes. Grumbling at how slowly the air seemed to be coming out, I looked over at Smyth.

  “Get everyone back,” I said. “Don’t need the extra weight while I’m trying to get us unstuck.”

  He nodded and quickly herded everyone well to the side. All but Dog and Mavis, that is. She wasn’t leaving my side and Dog had caught scent of the approaching infected and was sticking to her like glue.

  “Tommy says three minutes,” Smyth called to me.

  I’d forgotten the men’s names and it didn’t click instantly. I released pressure on the tire’s valve stem and leapt to my feet.

  “Get clear,” I called to Mavis as I swung into the cab.

  She scrambled to join the others, Dog going with her as I started the engine. Shifting into reverse, I fed in power, held my breath and popped the clutch. The entire truck jerked hard, moving a few inches before coming to a halt. I should have let air out of the four rear tires as well. But that was a moot point. I hadn’t, infected were almost on us and we were still stuck.

  Jamming into first gear, the truck rolled forward the same distance it had gone back. This was the first bit of encouragement I’d gotten as it meant the tires hadn’t buried themselves back into the sand.

  Gears screamed as I forced the lever back into reverse, then floored the throttle and dumped the clutch. Another hard jerk as the truck began backing up, then momentum slowed. Sand shot into the air as all six tires spun, clawing for traction. The entire vehicle vibrated as I kept the engine at full power, alternately coaxing and cursing the pink behemoth. And somehow, it kept moving. An inch at a time, but it was progress.

  So much sand was being thrown into the air that I could see nothing outside the cab other than directly in front of the windshield. When the rear set of tires finally reached the stone lip around the sand filled depression, my first indication was the sudden squeal of overheating rubber as they spun uselessly. Then they grabbed and the whole truck shuddered and hopped. Then the next set of tires reached hard ground.

  I still had my foot to the floor as all four rear tires suddenly found traction. Shooting backward, the front tires hit the lip hard enough to tear the wheel out of my hands, the front of the truck bouncing at least a foot off the ground from the savage impact. It was all I could
do to hang on as the vehicle began roaring down the slope in reverse.

  Getting it under control, I skidded to a stop nearly a hundred yards away from the sand. Clock ticking in my head, I shifted back to first and drove up slope, stopping a few yards short of where I’d gotten stuck. Smyth had everyone rallied and they quickly boarded. With Rachel, Dog and Mavis back in the cab, I steered around the sand and bounced over a ridgeline.

  Coming up the far side were close to forty females. They’d heard all the commotion and were coming at a full sprint. Nosing the truck over the crest and getting it aligned with the downslope, I upshifted and accelerated.

  The bouncing was horrible and I’m not really sure how I maintained control. But I did, smashing through the center of the group of infected at over thirty miles an hour. Several were pulped by the front bumper with seven tons of truck behind it. Others tried ill-fated leaps, unable to grasp onto the speeding vehicle. Then there were those who simply turned and began pursuing.

  At the bottom of a long slope was a faint track that headed to the northeast. I turned onto it without slowing, nearly tipping the truck up onto the outside trio of tires. Regaining full control, I pushed our speed up slightly, ignoring the bouncing that threatened to send me flying out of my seat. Behind, the pursuing females soon disappeared in the huge plume of dust we were throwing into the air.

  46

  The caravan park was on the southern edge of town, slightly off the Stuart Highway. I was surprised when I turned in and saw a sign advertising that there were underground accommodations. Smyth had been directing me and his head was still thrust forward into the cab.

  “Underground?” I asked him, steering around an abandoned car.

  “The heat, mate. Stays nice and cool a couple meters below. All they need is proper ventilation.”

  I understood the concept all too well. The house Katie and I had owned in Arizona had a basement. On the hottest of summer days, with the temperature approaching a hundred and twenty, if you went downstairs it was noticeably cooler than even the well air-conditioned main level.

  “That would be a really good way to ride out the storm,” Rachel said.

  I brought us to a stop in a courtyard and looked at the southern horizon. The storm was noticeably closer, appearing as an impenetrable red wall. Lightning, which was static electricity generated by the heat and friction of the sand being blown about, flickered constantly all along the front. The amount of energy being discharged with each bolt was tremendous and could potentially destroy the truck’s electrical system if we took a direct hit.

  Staring at the monster bearing down on us, I didn’t want to contemplate the consequences of being caught out in it with a disabled vehicle. We weren’t solely a group of trained and hardened soldiers. Women and children were along for the ride, too. Not that I wouldn’t stack Rachel up against about anyone for toughness, but Natalie was a city girl and while Ziggy was tough as nails, it was more in a ball busting wife and take no shit mother kind of way. And Lucas’s kids...

  “Okay, we’re going underground until the dust storm passes,” I said loud enough for the whole group to hear.

  As I swung down out of the cab I caught a glance of Rachel’s face. She was obviously relieved. Dog leapt down and trotted off with his nose to the ground and Mavis joined me on the driver’s side of the truck. I turned a quick circle to get a feel for the area, barking orders as I scanned across the sun-blasted terrain and low buildings.

  “Smyth, you and your mates get below and clear the place. Make sure you’ve located and secured every access point.”

  “On it, gov’na,” Smyth said, reminding me he was British by birth and rearing.

  He signaled to his men and the three of them ran across the hard-packed parking lot. They stacked up outside a door for a brief moment before disappearing into a small building with a sign telling customers to register their vehicles.

  “You made the right choice.”

  Rachel had come up next to me, taking my hand and gently squeezing.

  “Can’t risk them,” I said, tilting my head toward Lucas’s family.

  “Got more than them at risk.”

  She nodded toward Dog and Mavis as she pulled my hand and placed it flat on her belly. I looked at her and couldn’t help but smile. She leaned in and gave me a lingering kiss.

  “Would you two save that for somewhere else?” Mavis asked in a slightly disgusted voice.

  Rachel snorted a laugh as she moved her face away and I turned to Mavis. She stood with her arms crossed, looking at us as like we were the most revolting people on the planet. Dog sat next to her, panting in the heat and watching us, too.

  “Young lady, the day is going to come when you meet a boy...”

  “Won’t be standing around making out with him while other people are watching,” she said with the prim smugness of youth.

  “Not if you want him to stay healthy,” I growled, putting a frown on my face.

  “Oh, my God,” she said. “I don’t even have a boyfriend and you’re already threatening him?”

  “Not a threat,” I said, grinning despite the fact that I was absolutely serious.

  Mavis stared at me for a long moment then hurried forward and wrapped her arms around me. I was surprised and touched as she clung to me. It was easy to forget that she’d never had parents. Never had someone looking out for her.

  “Don’t think John’s the one the boys will need to worry about,” Rachel said.

  We looked to where she was pointing. Dog was tucked tight against Mavis’s leg.

  “We’re a team,” I said, then looked across the courtyard and gently pushed Mavis away.

  I’d heard something from the direction of the registration office. Where Smyth and company had gone. Tilting my head, I took a couple of steps forward. Rachel knew me well by now. And so did Dog. Both had been through a year of hell at my side. She moved a few feet away and brought her rifle up to low ready. Dog was already looking in the direction I was focused, nose tilted up to sample the air.

  Then the sound repeated. Muffled automatic weapons fire. Smyth and his men were in trouble. None of them would be on full auto unless they were in real danger of being overwhelmed. I took two more steps before yelling at Rachel to get everyone loaded back up and ready to move.

  Sprinting forward, I paused at the door into the office long enough to verify there wasn’t an enemy waiting in ambush, then rolled around the edge into a dimly lit room. Two chairs with a table, a small counter, and beyond a large opening the let onto a gentle ramp that descended into the earth.

  There were several more bursts of fire that sounded from the tunnel followed by a long rattle as someone held a trigger down long enough to empty a magazine. Then... nothing. Silence.

  My senses sharpened and I felt the now familiar rush of hot blood through my veins. I knew the significance of that final extended burst of full auto firing, and it didn’t bode well for the men I’d sent into the tunnels below. Starting down the ramp with rifle to my shoulder, I paused when several scents wafted up from below.

  The hot coppery smell of freshly spilled blood. The sewer stench of human piss and shit released as someone died. More than one death, I could tell from the smell, but don’t ask me how I knew.

  Heart pounding, I descended, picking up other smells I couldn’t identify. One was almost overpowering. A sharp musky odor that tickled a warning in some part of my brain. Not infected. But what?

  Reaching the end of the ramp, I scanned the long hallway ahead. The walls were rock and the floor was softened with carpet runners. Lights were strung from the ceiling, illuminating the space. There must have been some solar panels up top that were powering them.

  There was a main corridor, which ended in a T. Several rooms opened off each side, having been carved into the surrounding rock. As I passed them, I verified they were empty. Reaching the intersection, I did a quick peek in each direction, not happy that the only illumination was from poorly spaced emerg
ency lanterns. There was the occasional pool of light, but there were long stretches of darkness between them in both directions.

  Down the corridor to my left were several open doors. From the farthest one, a pair of legs stuck out into the hall and blood was already soaking into the light-colored rug. Spent brass was everywhere, littering the floor and gleaming dully beneath one of the lights.

  Advancing, I had to clear three rooms before reaching the first body. It was the man Smyth had called Tommy, and I hesitated in surprise. He hadn’t been killed by infected. This was something else. Something had attacked with enough power to tear off one arm and rip open his body. And apparently accomplish this despite the rifle lying next to the corpse.

  Stepping fully into the opening, the musk odor that I’d detected earlier suddenly became overpowering. Rifle to my shoulder, I scanned the room, pausing on the other two forms that were lying at the base of a wall. Smyth and the third man. Both had been violently killed as well, bodies rent open and spilling their contents onto the floor. Blood had been thrown onto the walls where it was slowly running down the rough surface.

  There was no point in checking the bodies. No one and nothing can live with the kind of damage that had been inflicted on them.

  A soft sound from the door behind caused me to whirl, rifle coming to aim on Rachel’s face. Dog stood next to her, nose twitching constantly and his teeth bared. With a breath of frustration, I moved the muzzle away from her.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed.

  Rachel glanced into the room with the three dead men before giving me a pointed look.

  “Getting you out of here or helping you,” she mumbled. “You decide which.”

  The sharp muskiness I’d already noted suddenly grew in intensity. Dog turned to face the intersection, growling a warning as I pushed past Rachel with my weapon up and scanning. A moment later, from deeper in the tunnels, sounded a roaring scream that seemed to make the walls vibrate.