He made more notes on potential strains. Avian Flu was one major option. It was possible that this virus had been contracted by a scavenger picking at an infected. That scavenger could have had a dormant strain of Avian Flu. Once the two contacted each other, there would be a reaction. Either one would kill off the other or there would be a mutation. The best option was that one, hopefully the Avian Flu strain, would kill off the newcomer. However, after looking at the video feed that appeared unlikely.
Of course, this was all conjecture until he had more samples. What he needed was to consult with the CDC and USAMARIID.
***
Chapter 29
Idaho Falls, Idaho
Jim Morrison looked at the group of people that occupied the old Rohr commercial door manufacturing plant. Since he and Bergeron had returned from the apartment complex there had been talk about moving. Instead of spending most of the day scrounging for food and boiling water to make it safe to use, they had been exposed to a potentially easier way of life.
If they moved to the Greener Pastures apartment complex, most of their current problems would disappear. The major issue was winter was well on its way and the old concrete and steel building was quite drafty. Sitting around the cooking fire helped a little but not enough. The floor they were on was the only floor where the windows were still in one piece. Granted most of them were rusted partially open or fully closed, at least they were intact. The continuous trips up and down the stairs to bring up firewood from the pallets that were on the lower floors was beginning to take its toll as none of them were eating the minimum calories each day. Morrison, who had played football in high school, a past that was as distant to him as the era of dinosaurs, or so it seemed, had lost enough pounds that he would never be mistaken for a linebacker. Each of the survivors had an emaciated look to them. It wasn’t all from stress. Julie, Berg’s silent female friend had disappeared. At night, she had been there. In the morning, she was gone. No note, no sign of struggle, nothing to indicate her motivations. Losing a member of the group had taken a toll.
“I say we pack up and head over there,” Warren Bergeron said as he wrapped a sheet of plastic tighter across his shoulders.
“We’ve been over this before,” Robert Kennedy said. Kennedy was the oldest in the group. He and his wife had been the only adults that had been with Morrison, Bergeron, Morrison’s sister, Melody, and Julie, they had named her Julie and she responded to that name, the college age girl who never spoke or strayed more than six feet from Berg. Except now.
“We can’t just pack up and leave. We don’t even know those people and they probably won’t let us in,” Kennedy said. This was the same argument that had been going on for the last month.
“Ever since you two got back from that place, all you’ve talked about was moving there,” Kennedy said as he tossed another scrap of wood onto the fire. “We can’t just show up on their doorstep and expect them to let us in.”
“Then why did Driscoll give fresh fruit and vegetables?” Morrison asked. “They were setting that place up to grow more food. More than we could possibly eat.” The mention of food set off a rumble in his stomach as he thought about the last time they had eaten three meals a day. Three actual filling meals not consisting of watered down soup and a couple of crusts of bread.
“We don’t know those people,” Kennedy repeated.
“We didn’t know you!” Morrison said, standing up and balling his fists. “You just came with us because that sergeant said to head towards the university. If we hadn’t found this place, we’d have gone there.”
“I know,” Kennedy said, making calming motions with his hands until Morrison sat back down. It was a good thing they hadn’t made it to the university. It had fallen to the infected. “But still, we can’t just show up on someone’s door and expect them to roll out the red carpet.” Martha, Kennedy’s wife put her hand on her husband’s arm. The look she gave him was enough.
“How do we know until we try?” Morrison countered.
“Fine,” Kennedy said. “Tomorrow, you and Berg head over and see if they’ll take us in. Until then, let’s table this discussion for when you come back.”
“Good enough for me,” Morrison said.
***
Chapter 30
Brooks Mountain Range, Alaska
O’Toole studied what little of the target he could see through his binoculars. He could make out the runway markers and the taxiway that led to a large hangar that appeared to be recessed into the mountain. Scanning around the valley, he saw the shapes of the tank farm, satellite dishes and the smaller support structures. Tucking the binoculars into their pouch he looked at his watch.
Jesus, its fucking cold. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this cold. He shivered then tried to force his mind back to the mission.
The transportation team had dropped them off two klicks from here. They should already be at the clearing hooking up the cargo sleds for the return trip. Looking up at the sky, he watched the clouds swirl around as the storm that had put them on the ground was slowly dying out. He glanced at his watch. The mission kicked off in less than twenty minutes. The longer they sat out here freezing their asses off, the less alert they would be. As if to support his thought, the rumble of an engine startled him. Down in the valley, out of one of the structures, presumably the motor pool garage, a snow cat waddled into view.
With jerky motions, it started moving towards the patrol road. Apparently, the weather had decreased enough to send out the security patrols again. O’Toole glanced to his right and saw a slight movement further down the hill towards what they had labeled as the aviation maintenance building. That would be the SEALs. Off to his left, somewhere, the Rangers, in full camouflage, were spread out along the short bluff that overlooked the runways with their sniper and his spotter team in a position of overwatch that commanded the entire valley. O’Toole looked back at Sands who was stuffing a large wad of tobacco between his cheek and gums. His sergeant grinned at him with one cheek distended as he slid the tobacco pouch back inside this parka and put his gloves back on.
“Know what I think, Ell-tee? I think we should pull back and nuke this place from orbit,” Sands said quietly. “It’s the only way to be sure,” he added giving his OIC a lopsided grin.
O’Toole smirked when he caught the reference to the film that Sands had just quoted. He reached up and broke squelch on his radio twice, waited for a reply, then slipped over the edge of the hill like water flowing downstream. Up ahead was his target and it was just about time to open up a can of whoop ass.
***
Chapter 31
Safeguard, New Mexico
Stone backed the SOTV into an empty loading bay that was near the personnel door. He stopped several feet away from the large rollup door. Shutting off the truck, he looked out at the parking lot. There was no movement. Grabbing his cane, pack and rifle, he stepped out of the truck and moved around the front. Stopping at the short set of stairs, he looked up at the door. Behind him, Durst, Burnett, Drewett, Mecceloni and Cassie formed a perimeter, half scanning the parking area and the rest watching the parked trucks.
“Anyone bring the key?” Stone jokingly said as he slung his rifle and pack before moving up the steps and inspecting the door, the lock and the frame.
“High security exterior door with extended plate. Can’t jimmy the tongue or remove the hinges.”
Mecceloni ascended the steps, crouched down and looked at the lock.
“Schlage,” he said as he moved his rifle to one side by its sling and removed a small zippered pouch from his vest. Opening the pouch revealed a series of picks. He chose two, closed the pouch and returned it to his vest then went to work on the lock.
Durst shook his head. This guy, this client of Stone’s gun running business, seemed to be the literal Jack of all Trades. In the time that he had been with the group, since his initial entry back in Nevada where he has shown up with Cassie in an airport service truck, Smit
h as he called himself, had proven to be a valuable asset much to Durst’s dismay.
The lock clicked and Mecceloni turned the knob. Instead of opening the door all the way, he stepped to one side, tucked the picks into a vest pocket and brought up his rifle. Using his left hand, his right hand firmly gripping his rifle, finger outside the trigger guard, he slowly pulled the door open. Stone, as quietly as possible, moved back down the steps and drew his Glock. Cassie moved up beside Mecceloni and crouched down, P90 up and ready. Mecceloni looked down at her, caught her eye and nodded then opened the door all the way to expose the darkness inside. Cassie leapt forward into the doorway, the tactical light on her P90 sweeping the immediate area. Mecceloni was just a few steps behind her. The room they had entered was the drivers waiting area. There was a short hall immediately ahead of them that ended at another door that allowed access to the shipping office. To their right was a large area with tables, chairs, darkened vending machines and the signage for a restroom. The wall was mostly windows looking out into the expanse of the warehouse. Durst noisily stumbled into the room not allowing his eyes to adjust from the bright sun outside and the darkness inside. Cassie looked back at him in irritation. Stone, with Drewett assisting, entered the room and made his way to a chair that he all but collapsed in. Burnett stood in the doorway then crouched down and aimed her rifle back out at the parking lot. The only illumination came from that open door and the groups tactical lights.
“There could be a back-up generator somewhere,” Stone said, his injured leg propped up on an empty chair, rifle on the table and his pack on the floor. Drewett crouched down beside him, removed a mini Maglite and clenched it between her teeth as she changed the bandages on Stone’s leg. She removed the small flashlight from her mouth and looked at Stone.
“Damn it, John. You’ve ripped some stitches,” she said. “I told you this was too soon for you to be doing all this.”
“Just fix it,” Stone said between clenched teeth. It was obvious he was in pain. Drewett replaced the flashlight between her teeth, shrugged off her medical pack and began preparing to close Stone’s wound.
“You stay here,” Mecceloni said. “We’ll go look for that generator.” He nodded to Cassie then quietly brushed past Burnett and back out into the distribution center’s parking lot. The couple disappeared around the side of the building.
“Shit,” Durst said, dividing his attention between the large windows, darkened warehouse, and Burnett, who was still crouched just inside the doorway scanning the truck lot. Drewett finished her sutures, wiped down the wound site, rewrapped it then stripped off her gloves.
“John,” she said shaking her head. “I’m not going to treat you like a small child but you have to understand that you need to rest that leg until it heals. Running all over the place is not good for you right now.” She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead.
“You’re damn lucky you don’t have an infection,” she said sternly.
“I know,” Stone said quietly as he popped the cap on a bottle of pain pills and swallowed a couple.
Drewett stood up, put her hands on her hips and looked down at him.
“If you knew then why the hell did you do it anyway?” she asked.
“Because I didn’t want you come along and have nothing to do,” Stone said. “This way, you can feel that you’re doing something important,” he said with a wink.
“Fuck you,” Drewett said. “I don’t need you to keep me busy.”
She squatted down and closed up her medical pack then walked over to the garbage can and tossed the used surgical gloves and medical packaging into the receptacle. Stone chuckled a little then winced and rubbed his leg. Drewett glared at him then shouldered her medical pack and brought her rifle around. This was still an unsecured area. They stood in the partial darkness until the lights flickered to life, the drinking fountain hummed and the vending machine lights came on. The lighting dimmed then came on full. Outside the observations windows, section by section of the warehouse was illuminated. Large orange metal framework supported the stacks and was, in turn, bolted to the concrete floor. Parked on some aisles was powered material handling trucks and partial pallets. Close to the rollup doors there was a staging area where pallets wrapped in shrink wrap waited to be loaded. Durst let his rifle hang and fished out some bills from his wallet as he approached the vending machines. He fed his money into the slot and selected a candy bar. Everyone looked at him as he made his selection then waited for the machine to dispense it. He retrieved the snack, tore open the top of the wrapper and took a bite. Turning around, he was met by confused and amazed looks.
“What?” he asked.
Stone slowly shook his head. Durst looked at Drewett and repeated the question. She eyed him like he was in need of mental assistance. Shaking his head, he finished the candy bar and tossed the wrapper into the garbage can.
“What? I got something on my face?” Durst asked still receiving the looks from the others. “We ran out of those a couple of months back and I really missed them.”
“Dude,” Stone said then shook his head. He grabbed his pack, stood up, slung his rifle, put the pack on the table and opened it. He removed a strange tool that he placed on the table then shouldered his pack. Stone took the Biel tool and jammed one end into the gap between the service door and frame and pried open the machine. He slid the shaft of the tool into his belt then reached inside and grabbed handfuls of the snacks and stuffed them into his pack.
“Dude. There’s no one here,” Stone said. “You can take all that you want.”
Durst looked at his friend, at the machine then shook his head at what he had just done. Old habits die hard.
Mecceloni and Cassie returned to the room.
“Looks like the backup generator didn’t kick in when the power grid went offline,” he said. “Full fuel tanks, should last a while. If any of those trucks still have fuel, we could siphon those to keep the tank full.”
Mecceloni looked at the short hallway that terminated at another door. Behind that door was a small office with a couple of desks, a countertop and another door that led into the main warehouse.
“Anyone try that door yet?” Mecceloni asked as he walked towards it. He crouched down by the knob and studied it before he removed his pick and went to work. A few seconds later, he had the door unlocked.
“We have light. The gates were still secure,” he said as he stood up and tucked away his lock pick. “We could probably close that door.” Mecceloni indicated to the door that Burnett was still at. “That way, we could each take a section of this place and meet back here.”
“I don’t like leaving one person here,” Stone said. “This place is way bigger than I expected. Maybe we should leave two people here to watch the exit.”
Mecceloni thought about what Stone had suggested.
“Makes sense. This place is really big. If someone stayed behind, we’d have backup and know that we had a secure exit,” he said.
“Frank, you’re elected. You and Burnett stay here. The rest of us will take a look at this place,” Stone.
“The fuck?” Durst said. “Why do I have to stay here?”
“Because you do,” Stone said. “Besides, this isn’t something that you’re cut out for.”
“Like you are?” Durst asked. “You can barely walk.”
“Frank, I got this,” Stone said. “You and I both know that you’d be more comfortable here. Clearing a warehouse is not something you really want to do. Besides, there are computers in that office. Maybe you could call up some kind of master inventory list and save us a shitload of time.”
Durst fumed silently then nodded. Stone was right. He really didn’t want to wander around a warehouse that could have infected inside.
“Ok. I’ll take a look at the computers and see what I can find,” Durst said.
Stone winked at his friend then limped after the rest of the group as they carefully worked their way through the small office and into
the main warehouse. Burnett checked the exterior door making sure it was locked on the outside then closed it. She followed Durst into the office and stood at the counter looking out at the racks of supplies.
“Big place,” she said.
“Yeah,” Durst said as he sat at one of the desks and booted up one of the computers. “Hey, can you go through and make sure that all the other computers are off?”
Burnett nodded then walked to each of the desks and verified that Durst had the only computer that was currently powered up. She then walked to the warehouse access door and checked it. The door, with a large window, had security mesh impregnated within the glass as had all the windows. It was a solid metal door with a lock and bolt on the office side. She threw the bolt then walked back to the driver’s area and checked the exterior door again to make sure it was closed. Durst looked at the login screen then looked at the desk for any notes. Lifting up the keyboard he didn’t see anything under it but then he looked at the bottom of the keyboard. Taped to the bottom was the password and login information. Shaking his head, he typed in the codes and waited as the screen loaded the main page. Wading through the files he came to the master inventory list, opened it and looked at it. The list was massive. He paged through the first few screens but there were over 900 pages of items listed. Looking around the office he spied the printer. Sliding his rolling chair over to it, he powered it up then slid back to the desk and sent the list to the printer. Leaning back in his chair, he put his hands behind his head and sighed as the printer began spitting out sheets. Burnett walked into the room and looked at him.
Up From the Depths Page 15