No Sanctuary Box Set: The No Sanctuary Omnibus - Books 1-6

by Mike Kraus

  After a few hours Linda pulls out the stack of papers from her bag and flips through them once again. She re-reads the material she read previously on the bus and finds nothing new. When she gets to the pages she skipped, though, she begins to find bits and pieces of information that she hasn’t seen before.

  There are references in the documents to Omar’s obsession with the United States, starting from when he was a young man working under his father in the government. A failed coup—believed by the ISI to have been orchestrated by the CIA and MI6—resulted in the death of the Iranian President’s wife as well as dozens of members of government. Omar’s father, mother and two brothers were slaughtered in the coup. The only reason he survived was because he was out of the country studying at Oxford when it happened.

  Though the Iranian President’s wife was killed the President himself was not. Forces loyal to his regime quickly pushed back the attackers and reestablished the rule of law but not before the damage was done. While the coup happened decades prior there are references in the papers to Omar’s radical transformation shortly after it occurred. He poured himself into his university studies, earning a doctorate in physics and a second in chemistry.

  After his education he returned home, heralded as a hero by his country due to being the sole surviving member of his family. His education and his family’s former position quickly garnered Omar a place working in the military where his newfound tenacity and ruthlessness were allowed and encouraged to flourish.

  Though the information in the documents is presented as speculation, Linda realizes that it matches up with information she received from several other sources and is most likely true. Whether the coup was indeed orchestrated by the CIA and MI6, Omar latched on to the United States as the chief instigator of the incident. This belief was no doubt fostered by the coup d’état in 1953 which the CIA admitted to having planned, though Linda knows of no such admission for the modern attempt.

  When Linda finishes going through the paperwork she leans back in her seat and stares out the window, contemplating the newfound information. She is glad she went to Pakistan as the trip turned out to be useful after all but the information she gathered has created as many new questions as it has answered. Omar has an obsession with the United States, but what is his game plan? A man so dedicated as to use American military personnel as guinea pigs for his weapons and hide himself so thoroughly from detection from foreign intelligence services must have a long-term strategy.

  What it is, though, she cannot imagine. She knows, however, that whatever it is will not end well. Not unless she finds him first.

  Chapter 2

  A thick, syrupy molasses surrounded Linda on all sides. It pushed at her, reaching from her toes to her neck. She, in turn, pushed back, struggling against it with all of her strength. Her muscles felt like they were on fire and the substance was too dense for her to make any headway. As she continued to struggle against the molasses it began to thin out and the blackness that filled her vision gave way to the blurred sight of the inside of a building.

  Linda was lying on her back on a couch, covered with a sheet. She prodded at the sheet, trying to pull it off but finding it impossible to do so. She finally freed her arms, though, and started to push herself into a sitting position when a pain in her leg made her flop back down. Her left leg was working properly but try as she might she couldn’t get her right leg to bend upwards. She opened her mouth to mutter a frustrated curse but her throat was so dry all she managed to do was squeak out a hoarse gasp instead.

  “What… the hell…” Linda put her head back, overcome with exhaustion. She blinked several times, trying to will the room around her to come into focus when she heard a noise nearby. Panicking at the sound she struggled more, thrashing her entire body against whatever was restraining her. A soothing voice cut through her fears, instantly filling her with a measure of tranquility that relaxed her.

  “Linda! You’re awake!” The voice belonged to Sarah, though it took Linda a long moment to realize that.

  “S—Sarah?” Linda croaked out the words.

  “Hush. Save your strength.” Sarah retrieved a glass full of liquid and brought it over to the couch. She sat down in a chair next to Linda and held the glass up, putting a straw into Linda’s mouth. The liquid was shockingly cold and sweet and Linda coughed, spitting it over herself before taking another sip. The second one went down and she began to suck it from the straw as hard as she could.

  “I guess you were thirsty. I’m not surprised. We’ve had you on IV fluids for the last week.”

  “Week?” Linda’s throat felt less raw after the drink and her mouth felt like it could move again, though she was still hoarse. “Where am I? What do you mean by a week?” She began to struggle at the sheet again and reached for her immobile leg when Sarah put a firm hand on her arm.

  “Ha.” Sarah shook her head and put the glass down on the floor. “Just relax. A lot’s happened since Frank brought you here.”

  The mention of Frank brought Linda’s memories back like a flash flood. They surged through her mind and her eyes opened wide as she looked at Sarah in a panic. “Frank! And Omar! And… wait, we’re at your house, aren’t we? This is where you live!”

  Sarah nodded, keeping a strong hold on Linda’s arms to keep her from unexpectedly moving around. “Yes, this is my house. Frank’s out right now but he’ll be back soon. We’ll talk about Omar later. Right now you need to just relax and lay back down.”

  “Why can’t I move my leg?” Linda struggled to do anything with her right leg but failed again. “Did something happen to my leg?”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, no. Goodness no. Well, mostly not. You had a nasty infection. Quite severe, actually. You were an hour or so from dying when Frank brought you in here.”

  “So why can’t I move my leg? Or this thing?” Linda pulled on the sheet again but couldn’t budge it.

  “We had to basically strap you down a couple days ago. You were rolling and thrashing around so much you fell off the couch a few times. Your leg’s taped down to a board and the sheet’s tied around the couch.” Sarah gave Linda a shrug. “Sorry. We didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  “How bad was the infection?”

  “Bad. Very bad. I’m pretty sure whatever was in your leg got into your bone. You’ve been on heavy antibiotics and morphine for the last week.”

  “Christ.” Linda closed her eyes and put her head back down on her pillow. “Wait.” Her eyes snapped open again. “A week? I’ve been here for a week?”

  “Technically I guess it’s been six days.”

  “I’ve been here? For a week? You have to be kidding.”

  Sarah shook her head. “I’m afraid not. It’s been pretty touch and go with you up until last night.”

  “Have I been out this whole time?”

  “More or less. You were in a lot of pain so I had Frank scrounge up some morphine from a hospital. I put you on a drip of that and kept you out for the most part. How is the pain, by the way?”

  Linda flexed the muscles in her right leg, feeling a twinge of pain deep in her thigh. “It hurts a little bit. Not much, though.”

  Sarah nodded. “Good. I’m going to put you on oral antibiotics for a few more days, just to make sure we killed everything off. Then you can start getting solids in your system again. You’ve mostly just been having broth a few times a day when you’re coherent enough to sip from a straw.”

  “Is that why I’m so hungry?” Linda groaned. The longer she spent talking to Sarah the more coherent and aware of her own body she felt. Everything was sore, as it had been in her dream, but she also felt strength somewhere deep inside as well as a great relief to be alive.

  “Ha.” Sarah smiled. “Probably, yes. Don’t worry.” She patted Linda’s arm. “We’ll get some good food in you soon. It’s good you’re up now, though. We can talk for a bit before Frank gets back.”

  “Where is he, anyway?”

  “He we
nt out yesterday on a supply run. He radioed in this morning and said he’d be back soon. We’re running low on bottled water and he wanted to check out a little pharmacy a few miles away to see if they had been looted of everything useful.”

  “Frank’s out by himself?” Linda nodded thoughtfully. “I’m impressed.”

  “You should be.” Sarah gave Linda a sly smile. “I think you’ll be surprised when you see him again.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He’s changed quite a bit since he drove here with you in the back seat. I’d never met him before that day but even I’ve noticed a change in him.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “Oh yes. I think seeing you get knocked on your ass had a profound effect on him. We had a long talk the day he brought you in. I could tell he was still struggling with his decision to come with you and unsure of whether you were telling him the truth about Omar.”

  “Did you set him straight?”

  Sarah stood up and went around to the back of the couch to untie the knots that were holding the sheet in place. “Try not to fall off this time. And yes. Once I heard enough of his story to establish he wasn’t lying about knowing you I filled him in on everything you and I know about Omar.”

  Linda grunted and pushed herself up on the couch a few inches. “You told him everything? That’s not like you, Sarah.”

  Sarah sat down in her chair, shook her head and sighed. “We live in desperate times. There aren’t many people we can trust. I’m a decent judge of character and Frank appears trustworthy.”

  “I’m glad you think so. Makes my decision to trust him feel even more like the right one.” Unhindered by the sheet Linda looked down at her bare leg and gingerly touched at the bandage taped across the bullet wound. “How’s this thing looking anyway?”

  “You won’t win any beauty contests involving showing off your thigh and it’s going to keep hurting for a while. I sewed it up as best as I could and the infection’s been dealt with so as long as you don’t get shot again you’ll be just fine.”

  Linda snorted and smiled. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time I’m dealing with meth heads.”

  “Promise you won’t move your leg around a bunch and I’ll get you out of this splint.”

  Linda nodded and Sarah grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the gauze that held Linda’s leg down on the board. Linda flexed her leg slowly once it was free, noticing a substantial difference in how it felt compared to her left leg. “It doesn’t hurt that much. Mostly it’s just sore.”

  “Mhm. We’ll get you up and on it tomorrow and see how much weight you can bear.”

  “Tomorrow?” Linda shook her head. “If I’ve been lying here for the last week then we can’t be delaying anything! We have to go after—”

  Sarah put out a hand to keep Linda from getting off the couch. “Whoa, whoa, just calm down. There’s nothing we can do today.” Sarah was about to continue talking when there was a burst of static followed by a voice coming from the kitchen.

  “Sarah, I’m on the way in. Thirty seconds or so.”

  Sarah got up and headed to the kitchen where she grabbed a two-way radio off the table. “Copy that. See you in a minute.” She put the radio back down, went to the front door and picked up a rifle standing against the wall.

  “Was that Frank?” Linda twisted her head to try and see out one of the front windows before she realized that they were mostly boarded up except for some thin slits that she couldn’t reach to see.

  “Yep, he’s back. Hang tight, I’m going to help him get the stuff inside.”

  Sarah slung the rifle across her back and unlocked the front door. She stepped through the door and scanned the surroundings, looking both for movement and for signs that anything had changed since the last time she was outside. Once she was satisfied that things were safe she headed down the steps towards the station wagon that was pulling up in front of the house.

  Frank stepped out of the vehicle and glanced around before nodding to Sarah. “Everything good here?”

  “Better than good. She’s up.”

  “She’s awake?” Frank smiled. “Excellent! Is she doing okay?”

  “She seems fine. She’s sore still but the medications have done their work.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “How about you?” Sarah circled around to the back of the vehicle. “Looks like you found a decent stash.”

  “Yep.” Frank walked to the back of the station wagon and opened the door. “I had to go a couple hours away to find anything, though. I’m pretty sure there are other people in the area who are scrounging.”

  “Of course there are. Did you pull these from a house or a store?”

  “A house. Nobody was home and they were stacked up in a closet along with a bunch of emergency rations.” Frank kept glancing at the townhouse as he talked, nervously shifting on his feet. Sarah glanced at him and raised an eyebrow.

  “You have to take a leak or something?”

  “Huh? Oh, no. No, just… wanted to say hi to Linda.”

  “Well come on, then. Let’s get this stuff inside and get out of sight then you can catch up with her.”

  Frank and Sarah quickly unloaded the station wagon and carried everything to the front porch of the townhouse. Once it was empty they opened the door to Sarah’s home and pushed everything inside, minimizing the amount of time that the front door was open. Linda watched as they worked and once they finished she grinned at Frank.

  “Look at you, going out and getting food and water.”

  “Linda!” Frank grinned and walked to the couch, dropped to his knees and embraced her. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like somebody shot me.” Linda smiled. “I hear you’ve been keeping busy while I’ve been sleeping the last week away.”

  Frank shrugged and glanced at Sarah. “Your friend here’s been keeping me on my toes. You had a couple of close calls with that infection but she did a good job keeping you alive.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes and started carrying the bottles of water and packets of food into the kitchen. “You two let me know when you’re done patting everyone on the back. Then we can get to the real work.”

  Linda watched Sarah for a few seconds before whispering to Frank. “She’s a handful, isn’t she?”

  “She is not at all what I expected when you talked about having a friend in the CIA.”

  Linda nodded and her expression grew serious. “How are you doing, though? Sarah told me she shared everything about Omar with you. Are you good?”

  Frank nodded and sat in the chair next to the couch. “Yeah, I think so. It’s been a lot to take in but we’ve had some interesting discussions about Omar and what we should do about him.”

  “Ugh.” Linda groaned. “I hate that I’ve been out of the loop for the last week. What have I missed?”

  Frank looked over at Sarah. “We were talking about that the other day, actually. Sarah agrees that Omar is behind everything, like you said. It’s also obvious he’s planning something even bigger that hasn’t come to fruition yet.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “We’ll have to talk to Sarah about it. She has a few things she needs to tell us.”

  “I think,” said Sarah as she walked over to the couch with another chair in hand, “that we should have that discussion right about now.”

  Chapter 3

  “Come on, baby.” A man wearing a dirty orange vest and bright yellow hard hat looks up at a bank of lights, pleading with them as though they’ll respond to verbal encouragement.

  “Anything?” The shout comes from outside the building and the man turns and shouts back.

  “Nothing yet! Try the next one!” The man inside the building waits for a few seconds until he hears the sharp click of another breaker being flipped back on. He eyes the lights suspiciously, wondering if his eyes are playing tricks on him when the brief flicker of an electrical arc turns into a full-blown light show. The rows
of fluorescent bulbs surge to life across the ceiling, bathing the room in a harsh off-white glow that hasn’t been seen in many days.

  “Anything?” The shout comes again. This time, though, the answer is given with a cheery tone of voice.

  “Let there be light!” the man inside the building steps outside and grins at his partner. “That’s all of them, right?”

  The second man consults a clipboard in his hand and nods. “Lights are all a go in the buildings that are still intact.”

  “What’s next, then?”

  “Helping get new lines pulled from the main building to the ones near the docks.”

  The first man’s cheery expression sags at this answer. “Great. Like that won’t be a pain in the ass.” He sighs and checks his watch. “Coffee first?”

  “Better hurry before anyone notices.”

  ***

  The Los Angeles Port, hard-hit by the initial terrorist attack, is once again abuzz with activity. Floodlights hastily rigged to the tops of buildings and power poles are connected to generators that ensure that repair and reconstruction efforts can go on through the day and night uninterrupted. Offers of foreign aid flood the United States though the government is cautious about how the aid is delivered. No foreign flights are allowed to touch down except in very rare and extreme circumstances. Food, medicine, repair equipment, emergency supplies and so on—anything that comes in large, bulk deliveries—must arrive via land or sea so that they can be inspected far from the locations where they are to be delivered to.

  This draconian rule impedes the initial flow of supplies and causes more than a few deaths due to a lack of aid. With military and law enforcement agencies scattered and stretched thin across the country, though, the flow of everything into the country must be properly regulated. Allowing cargo planes to make deliveries directly to survivor cities would, in the eyes of the government, open up a whole new vector for the attackers to continue their assault. The effectiveness of this policy is… debatable.