As the near-silent helo cut an arc around the back of the cluster of buildings, sunlight blazed off of a glass-enclosed skywalk. Constructed entirely of white tubes, it was flat at the bottom and both sides angled in and joined at the top creating a very lengthy triangular passage linking the main building and the parking lot to the east.
“The fencing around the parking lot is compromised,” Durant noted. “And what I presume is the main guardhouse looks to be unmanned.”
“Roger that,” replied Cade.
As Ari pulled the Ghost into a silent hover at a hundred feet AGL, just over the tree-lined northern perimeter, Cade spotted the white sheets Gaines had pointed out fluttering against the glass and metal background. “Camera,” he said to Tice, who promptly handed over the Nikon.
Cade manipulated the focus ring and the shutter stuttered as he fired off thirty frames. He looked briefly at the mammoth LCD screen and then passed the camera to Gaines.
“Good intel from Nash,” Gaines said, nodding subtly. “Someone’s written today’s date up there.”
“Indeed they have,” Cade answered. He shifted his attention to the parking lots near the outlying buildings scattered about the grounds, searching for a suitable rally point. A place where both aircraft could land in the event there were more survivors than the Ghost Hawk could safely accommodate.
Durant’s voice filled the comms. “I’ve got movement. Third floor, three windows over.”
“Taking us closer,” intoned Ari as he side-slipped the helicopter toward the building, keeping the port side of the bird level with, and parallel to, the bank of windows. “Looks like they had to break a few windows in order to hang those.”
Looking at the ground, Cade noticed a half-dozen battered filing cabinets lying amongst sparkling shards of safety glass that used to reside in the metal frames above. Files and papers began to blow from the open drawers and were propelled into the air by the down-blast caused by the whirring rotor blades.
By the time the quiet helicopter had moved in close, the sheets had been pulled inside, and a number of people stood waving their arms in front of the three broken panes, obviously very happy with the prospect of being rescued.
“How many?” Ari asked as he fought against the rising rotor wash to keep the helo steady.
Durant answered. “Thirteen on first count.”
Gaines confirmed the number. “That’s what I got... lucky number thirteen.”
Just as Ari was about to pull pitch and move away from the building, he noticed one of the survivors, a tiny Asian lady, furiously scribbling away on what he guessed to be a dry erase board. “Someone get eyes on the small woman in the middle window. She’s working on a message for us.”
“Copy that,” Cade said. Once again he relieved Tice of the Nikon. “You can back her off, Ari. I’ve got the Spook’s camera.”
As Jedi One-One peeled away from the vertical face of the building, Cade trained the camera’s telephoto lens on the dry erase board the woman was holding aloft.
“What’s it say?” Tice asked, sounding anxious.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Tell us, Captain,” Gaines said sharply.
“OK, you asked for it,” said Cade in an I told you so voice. “Floors one, two, four and five... overrun with infected. Her words, not mine.”
“No bueno,” Lopez said. “You were right, Wyatt, I didn’t want to hear that.”
“Hold on. She’s erasing—” Durant said. “Looks like she’s writing something else.”
“Come on lady,” Cade said. He had the viewfinder pressed to his eye and he could see that the rest of her coworkers shared his sentiment. They looked like they’d run a marathon a day since this event popped off. No doubt, Cade thought, that these people were the ones working around the clock to find a cure before the place fell to the dead. And after it did, human nature probably kicked in and people fled the building in order to save themselves. Then, like falling dominos, once the panic had started it was hard to contain and nearly as infectious as Omega. He’d seen the same type of aftermath everywhere he’d been since Z day.
He fought against the bobbing of the chopper to keep the ungainly foot-and-a-half long telephoto lens locked onto the woman. Finally, mercifully, she finished scribbling.
“OK. Message to follow,” said Cade as he read the chicken scratch. Then he relayed his interpretation of the message. “In not so many words she’s telling us they are trapped in the large conference room on the northwest corner of the third floor. There are Zs in the stairwells and roaming the third floor. She indicates they are trapped.”
“Madre,” Lopez said under his breath.
A few expletives echoed in the cabin and over the comms as the rest of the team came to grips with the daunting task ahead of them.
“Fix your NVDs—night vision devices—and lock and load gentlemen... means you too, Tice,” Cade said as he unplugged his flight helmet and swapped it out for the low-rise tactical helmet, on which he had already affixed a pair of the newest generation night vision goggles. When flipped into the down position, the four stubby stocks would protrude forward in front of the operator’s eyes, making him look like something straight out of a sci-fi movie.
The rest of the four-man team swapped out helmets, checked their weapons, and cinched them down to their chest in anticipation of the rapid fast rope descent to the rooftop.
Cade looked at the men and smiled inwardly. He wished they had more time to get used to working together, but these were extraordinary circumstances that called for a lot of flexibility. The unit had lost a lot of dedicated shooters over the last two weeks, so he supposed he should be grateful for the guys he had.
The smell of death and hot exhaust instantly assaulted the cabin as Hicks wrenched open the starboard-side door and readied the fast rope.
After one quick final gear check, Cade pointed up with an index finger and bellowed to be heard over the turbine whine. “Take us to the roof, Ari.” Then, as he gripped the anchored nylon rope in his gloved hands, he received a slap on the shoulder from the general.
“Go get ‘em Grayson,” said Gaines as he reached for the door latch on the port side.
Cade took some calming breaths, gazed at the mirrored building, and observed his own reflection as the helicopter rose to the rooftop.
Chapter 54
Outbreak - Day 16
50 Miles South of Victor, Utah
Tran recognized the woman in the passenger seat and the man to his left, but he had never seen the driver before, and given the African American man’s exotic looks, if he had, he was certain he wouldn’t have forgotten the encounter. He remained watchful and silent as the Tahoe ate up fifty miles of blacktop. In fact, everyone in the SUV seemed more than content to keep their thoughts and words to themselves.
He tore a strip from his tartan pajamas and wet it with a splash from one of the bottled waters.
Daymon peered in the rearview mirror. Scrutinized what his new passenger was up to and decided to break the silence. “I’ll tell you a little known secret, Tran my man.”
After making little progress at wiping the congealed blood from his face, Tran met Daymon’s eyes and hitched his brows as if to say: Let’s hear it.
“Fact... the only natural thing known to man that breaks down blood is... drumroll please... saliva.”
“Bullshit, Daymon,” said Jenkins.
“Try it, Tran,” said Daymon, shooting a quick glance towards the man.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” Heidi said sharply.
“There is one catch. It has to be your saliva. I guess it has something to do with the enzymes in your own spit that breaks down your own blood.”
There was a minute of silence as the Tahoe bounced along 89 South with the sun punishing everything outside of the air-conditioned ride.
Tentatively at first—as if he thought he was the butt of a cruel practical joke and didn’t want anyone to know he’d been had—Tran spit on the
tartan scrap and dabbed at his face. After a few minutes, he looked at his reflection in the window and said, “Works great. Thanks.”
After that brief exchange, the floodgates opened. Tran explained his lengthy relationship with the billionaire. His voice grew soft when he began to describe the events that followed after the Omega outbreak, and how his boss’s behavior and demeanor had changed overnight. He mentioned his friend Fredrick and how Christian had killed the man for the smallest offense. Tears filled his eyes and he choked up when he apologized to Heidi for not doing anything more to help her and the other girls who had been kidnapped, drugged, and taken advantage of at the House.
“It wasn’t your doing,” said Heidi. “It was a guy named Bishop, the brothers Lucas and Liam, and a little runt named Francis who kidnapped me from the bar.”
Glancing at Tran in the rearview, the gears began to turn in Daymon’s mind. And as he processed this new information, he resurrected the plan for revenge that Cade and his team of Army men had cut short just three days prior. Only now he set his sights set on a new target, and as the road clipped by he vowed silently to himself that he’d make Ian Bishop pay for kidnapping Heidi or he would die trying.
Tran dabbed at the deep fissure on his forehead, wincing as he did so. “Bishop abandoned Robert and a bunch of us at the mansion,” he said.
Jenkins turned in his seat towards Tran. “What happened back there... at the torched house near where we found you?”
“They deserved what they got,” Tran said without showing remorse.
“Ruthless... you burned the place down around them?” Daymon pressed.
“I don’t know how that happened,” answered Tran in a funereal voice. “I let the demons in the house. That’s all.”
“You did what?” said Jenkins incredulously.
Tran described in detail his flight from the mansion in Jackson Hole beginning with the explosions in the elk refuge, how he had found the keys in the Scout’s ignition, and how the dead had all but ignored him. Finally he detailed how he’d led the dead to the house, where, because of the yellow Hummer in the drive, his gut told him the brothers were.
“You should write a book about that shit,” exclaimed Daymon.
“Who’s left to read it?” Jenkins quipped.
“I wasn’t being literal...” Daymon didn’t have time to finish the sentence. To keep from plowing into one hell of a roadblock, he mashed the brake pedal to the floorboards and stopped the big rig in a fashion that would have made the writers at Road & Track proud.
Smoke from the burning rubber wafted over the truck as it rocked on its springs.
“I told you to watch the road,” chided Heidi.
Wide eyed, Daymon looked back at Jenkins. “Effin great brakes on this thing,” was all he could think of to say. His mouth hinged open as the smoke dissipated and the odds they faced became evident.
Chapter 55
Outbreak - Day 16
Schriever AFB
Colorado Springs, Colorado
“Stay away from the fence,” Brook called out to Raven.
Still wobbly on the new and much bigger bike, Raven risked taking one hand from the handlebars to wave an acknowledgement to her mom. Just then Max darted by and took a playful nip at the bike’s knobby rear tire.
“She’s just like Cade,” Annie said quietly. “That’s a fearless kid you’ve got there.”
“She’s been real resilient. I even had her shooting Zs again yesterday. Seemed to be no problem... and that kinda scares me,” Brook said, wiping a tear. “Truth is, I want my innocent little bird back.”
“My girls are oblivious,” stated Annie. “Then again, they are much younger than Raven. You know the last couple of nights they’ve slept straight through. I think it’s good that they are letting their guard down a little. It’s a direct result of being inside here... behind the wire. Provides them a tangible sense of security.”
The perfect opening presented itself, so Brook seized it. “Why don’t you and the girls come with us tomorrow. Cade knows about this compound full of likeminded people just outside of Eden, Utah. May not be as much security as here, but it’s not as close to a city the size of Denver either.”
“Thanks for thinking about us, Brook. I’m sure Cade...”
Putting a blanket on the conversation, a large gray transport plane with Air Force markings roared down the distant runway and crawled into the sky. Jet engines working hard against gravity, and trailing black exhaust, the aircraft banked left and took on an easterly heading.
Both women watched in silence until it was a distant speck on the horizon.
The kids, who had also been frozen by the spectacle, resumed their game of tag as soon as the rumble had dissipated.
“As I was saying, Cade does not have to honor the pact he and Mike had. That was between them, so you needn’t feel guilty.” Annie’s face tightened and her brow crinkled. “Me and the girls will be just fine here. Besides... I want to protect their innocence for as long as I can.”
“The invitation’s open until we drive through the gate. And there may be a couple of young adults and a girl a little older than Rave coming with if I can talk Master Grayson into it. I spent a couple hours talking with the kids... I guess I’m aging myself when I call them kids, but they’re full of so much hope. I couldn’t imagine being fifteen years younger than I am now and being stuck inside of here. It’s just not my idea of living.”
Annie said nothing.
As they enjoyed the peals of laughter and the occasional yelp out of Max, both women gazed across the field, pondering their future.
Brook finally broke the silence. “Are you sure you want to stay at Schriever?”
“I’m positive,” Annie said, her voice cracking. “This way we can be close to Mike—the girls can visit him any time they want,” she added, pinning a strand of graying blonde hair behind her ear.
There was another long moment of silence.
Brook turned and, probably for the last time, embraced her dear friend. “Time for a color,” she said in a low voice as she stroked Annie’s shoulder-length hair.
Annie pulled away slightly and stared at Brook straight away. “Time for a frickin’ spa treatment,” she replied as she shifted her gaze and tracked her twin daughters as they bounced through the brittle grass.
“And a mani-pedi,” Brook added jokingly.
The ice was broken and their conversation morphed to the mundane. At least as mundane as talk can be with a dozen hungry Zs clutching the fence a hundred yards away.
Chapter 56
Outbreak - Day 16
National Microbiology Laboratory
Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada
Cade and Cross slid out of the hovering chopper in unison, and once they were on the roof they steadied the dangling fast ropes against Jedi One-One’s vicious rotor wash.
Cade stared up at Lopez’s size nines as they rocketed towards his face, and at the last moment released the rope and stepped out of the way.
A half second later Cross let go of the other fast rope and Tice was also safely on the roof.
“Clear starboard,” said Hicks over the comms.
“Copy, starboard clear,” answered Ari.
“Clear port,” intoned Gaines.
“Copy, port clear,” said Durant.
Cade went to one knee, brought his M4 up, and swept the barrel left to right. Clear. He gazed skyward and flashed a thumbs up at the black helicopter and watched the fast ropes free-fall to the rooftop and the portside door slide shut. In his earpiece he heard Durant calmly report back to Nash—who was monitoring the mission from the TOC at Schriever—that he, call sign Anvil Actual, was on target.
“Let’s move,” Cade said as he took off at a trot across the metal rooftop. Pitched to fifteen degrees and slick as snot, the going was precarious, and a fall equaled death at the hands and teeth of the Zs below.
Once he and his team reached the east side of the rooftop, they formed up next
to a doorway inset into a sort of step-up on the building top.
Cade let his M4 hang on the center point sling and pressed his ear to the cool metal door. He considered having Tice scan the interior with a fiber optic camera, but seeing as how something was steadily scratching the other side of the door he saw no need. “We have Zs,” he said, stabbing a finger at the door. Once again he took a knee, slid the lock gun from his cargo pocket, and went to work on the mechanism. After manipulating the tumblers for a short time, there was a soft click. Just to be on the safe side, he put his shoulder and all one hundred and eighty pounds of his body weight against the door while he stowed the lock pick tool and drew the Glock 17. He fished the suppressor from another pocket and threaded the flat black can onto the Glock’s barrel, pulled the slide back an inch and saw the reassuring gleam of brass. One in the pipe. “Counting from three,” he said.
“Copy that,” came three near simultaneous replies.
He counted down, hit one, and pulled the door open in one fluid motion. The carrion blast was like nothing he had ever smelled. Well, almost nothing, he thought to himself. Stuck in a superheated attic with a bitchy Daymon and a sweaty Hoss and a hundred Zs a floor below would never be topped on the stench scale. But this blast of air from the darkened stairwell was a close second.
A heartbeat after the door hit the stop, the source of the scratching filled the doorway. Badly decomposed and trailing greasy ropes of lower intestine, the creature staggered into the light and hungrily eyed the operators.
“Engaging,” Cade said as he swung the Glock on target and put two 9mm rounds through the creature’s right eye, sending brains and blood blasting through the exit wound behind its left ear.
Immediately, another two moaning Zs ambled through the doorway and were tripped up by the prone body of the first creature. As they struggled to rise, Cade took a quick step to his right and pumped a pair of rounds point blank into each of their skulls. “Going in,” he said, pulling the NVGs in front of his eyes. Without hesitating, he stepped over the leaking bodies and entered the stairwell with the Glock moving in a defensive arc to the left.
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