by Franks, JK
JD was already opening up the large black storm cases. They’d practiced this, just like the original Sentinel had instructed them to in his guides. Steven knew from the drills that they could be on the road within two-hours. The truck, an old Land Rover Defender, was hidden a mile away. The beast of a truck would go through nearly anything, which was good as the nearest paved road was ten miles away. He would take a bit more time, though. This was a real bug-out. Probably, they would never be coming back to this place. This fortress of a cabin, that had been their refuge from all the darkness in the world.
“Where are we going?” JD asked.
Steven looked at the map on the wall once more. “We have to assume the infected zone moves south and west. They seem to be drawn to warmer climates. They’ll move faster west once they get into Georgia where the Appalachians level out. We head to Florida, we may be trapped. I think we go west.” He was thinking of reports coming out of bayou country of someone with a possible antiviral treatment.
“I think we only have one option.”
He called up to the main floor. “Pam, we gotta talk.”
The former Lt. Pam Lackey looked down the ladder. “What love?”
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Northern Mississippi
Scott had assumed the Navy would be flying them up near Memphis. He learned quickly that was a no-go.
“We don’t move that way. Praetor soldiers move by whatever non-military means are available. In this case, we’re going to use some of the vehicles we captured up at the farms. Something large enough for us and our gear.” Skybox said.
Scott couldn’t remember what all they had liberated from the NSF, he’d been too busy heading off after Bartos to notice. Walking down to the staging area, he was shocked to see a pair of almost new dark gray Chevy Suburban 1500s. “Damn, those are nice.” “Yeah, armored too, one even has a gun turret up top. Only thing, Scott…no bike rack.”
He motioned to the group, “Let’s get busy, we need to load these things up and be ready to roll in ninety minutes.” The extra seats were removed, and the space used for additional gun cases, ammo and drones. Scott was astounded at the level of firepower Sky was bringing.
“You must think you are walking into a trap.”
“I always feel that way, Scott.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky. You waltz in and find where Gia is being held, then bring me in to help get her out.”
He smiled and shook his head, “Didn’t you hear, luck just left town. It’s just us now, friend.”
The gear was stowed, and the other soldiers did a final weapons check. Scott was already familiar with most of these soldiers. The pair of SEALs, Krychek and Rollins, the Army Rangers, Owens and a new man who towered over the rest, named Nez. All looked serious and deadly capable. He felt minuscule and weak standing beside this ensemble of hulking strength and abilities. They all turned as Solo padded up followed closely by Tommy whose blank expression seemed to be hiding something else today.
Scott had said his goodbyes to most of his friends, but Tahir had been over on the Bataan with Trish, which had seemed odd to him until Bobby said they had found a clue on the missing girl. The other person he hadn’t seen until now was Bartos, who came limping up. Scott was amazed to see him without the cane. “Looking good there, Cajun.”
“Ah, thanks. I’ve been working it hard. Hoped I would be good enough to travel with you asshats, but…” he looked down at the knee, “it still no work so good.”
“It’s ok, friend, this one is on me. Besides, I need you here.”
“Oh, yeah, sure…I just, you know…I wanted to look after Solo and all.”
Scott nodded and smiled, “Come here.” He pulled the little bald man into a fierce hug. “Take care of yourself. I need you to be ready to stand with me and my bride, ok?”
“Okay, enough with the love and kisses,” Skybox yelled. “Can we get the fuck on the road?”
Laughing for the first time in what seemed like ages, Scott said goodbye to his friend and loaded up.
“Seriously? No shit—that is what they’re calling it?” Krychek asked incredulously. “Thunder Ridge. That sounds like it is right out of a Hollywood B-movie or something.”
Skybox grinned into the rearview mirror. “Hey, it’s Tennessee, that just happened to be the name of the place they chose to put the protectorate.”
“Speaking of crazy names,” Scott said, “Why Skybox?” It was a question he had asked so often it was almost a running joke.
“Because Big Swinging Dick wouldn’t fit on his name patch,” Owens said.
“I’ve told you, Scott, you don’t get to pick your call sign. Someone else in your squad does that for you, or, in the case of my group, battlefield call signs were given out before each assignment. My last one just stuck, no biggie.”
“Yeah, sure,” the group said unbelievingly.
Scott was amazed at how relaxed the soldiers were. He was so tense he felt like throwing up. Somehow, he felt sure he was the only one. He was the pretender, he didn’t belong.
Skybox had already explained that he had to go into the camp alone. The rest of the team would hold-up somewhere close and come in when he gave the signal. The Spec Ops guys’ main job was to plant a locator beacon over the main part of the facility, then fall back and help with the exfil. How he and Tommy were supposed to get into such a heavily protected facility was something Scott was still waiting to hear. If Sky confirmed that Gia was still there, though, he’d find a way.
“I need to be there, Sky,” Scott argued. “I’ll let them capture me for...trespassing or something, then you can get me out once inside.”
Skybox shook his head in a slow, sad manner that let Scott know it wouldn’t work. “They wouldn’t, friend….they would just shoot you.”
They crossed the Mississippi, and as they approached the I-40, the scene of a horrific battle unfolded. Burned out hulks of cars and trucks joined an occasional weaponized vehicle, all of them bombed or shot to hell. Large impact craters lined much of the highway and even the overpasses. As the car passed by, skeletal remains could be made out, many hanging out of open windows. Skulls broken and blackened from what had occurred here. On one of the large buses, the top of which was ripped open like an exploded can of soda, a partial emblem was identifiable. Scott recognized it instantly, the same symbol his brother now had tattooed on his hand. Messengers, he realized in disgust. They had taken on Thunder Ridge here and lost.
A half-hour later, they pulled into an abandoned Hampton Inn just past Memphis. The hotel was in mostly good shape, somewhat isolated along a road leading up toward a large state park. “This will work,” Skybox said. “Let’s unpack the gear from my truck, I’ll take it on up tomorrow morning. Best guess is we are about eighteen miles south of the camp.”
“You don’t know for sure?” one of the soldiers asked.
“Um, no. They won’t give me exact coordinates until I’m within a few miles. That’s when they will shut down perimeter defenses along a corridor for me to enter.”
“And that’s when you’re going to let us know where to come?” Scott asked.
“Hopefully, I can get the coordinates to you, but don’t come until I give the word. It would be suicide otherwise. Besides, man, if she isn’t there…”
“She’s in there—I feel it, Sky.”
Scott tried several of the doors to the rooms finding them all locked. He watched as Krychek just kicked a door and walked in. The giant Native American Nez seemed to lean on one, the frame bowed and he walked in with his gear. Scott stepped back, raised a foot and was about to kick when Rollins tapped him and handed him something. “Key, dude, save your leg.”
“Um, thanks,” replied Scott realizing the man probably saved his pride even more.
Skybox called out loudly, “Everyone stow your gear, and let’s meet in the lobby in ten.“
The vehicles were pulled around back out of sight. Everyone was gathered around a black potbellied stov
e that seemed out of place in the modern hotel lobby. A small fire had been started in it mainly to give the room some light. One of the guys fished a coffee pot out and some water and sat it on the metal grate to warm. “Fucking Navy,” came a voice from the shadows. “Do y’all do anything without coffee?”
“Ask your wife, Owens.”
“Ok, guys, get serious,” Skybox said as he took a device from his pack. It looked like a tablet, but when he tapped a button, the map that was displayed on the screen was projected up onto the blank wall. “Thanks to Scott's friend, he got one of my mission toys working. Here is the area of Thunder Ridge. He circled a large green area on the map. My best guess on the camp is it’s somewhere near here. Good access to water, these rocky bluffs to the north would be a natural barrier and overlooking the valley would make it much easier to defend. There are also miles of natural caves under the mountains to use.”
They spent the next several hours going over likely weapons emplacements, areas for the team to recon and other mission-critical details. After a long while, the Spec Ops team was growing frustrated. “This place is a fortress, Sky. They could be housing a full brigade of troops…shit—a regiment. We wouldn’t know,” Owens said.
Rollins asked, “Can I use my birds to get a look?”
Skybox shook his head, “Negative. They will have sensors that can pick them up. If you have to use them, go in passive mode only and assume they will be spotted.”
They spent hours going over possible means of assault. It became clear to Scott the group had been involved in a variety of covert ops. “Sky, how far back does Praetor go?” he asked. “I mean, is it linked to the original Praetorian Guards of Rome?”
Sky shrugged, “Maybe. We like to think so, and we follow some of the ideals laid down by them, but who knows? When the CIA stepped out, and I found myself part of Praetor and under civilian command, it never seemed like we were some group of mercenaries. We had the full power of the government, could embed with, train with, deploy with nearly any military we needed. Our equipment was the best, and frankly, my fellow soldiers were some of the smartest and most capable. I’m not sure there has ever been a force as good and as significant as the Guard. Whoever the Caesar is that we are serving, they wanted the best group in the world, and they got it.”
Scott spent several hours going over the map and the set of aerial images of the areas. Something finally occurred to him, and he leaned back catching Skybox’s eye.
“You see something, Scott?”
Chapter Eighty
Thunder Ridge Protectorate
She clicked off the display, exhausted. The complications unleashed by Madelyn Chambers had to be dealt with as well as the woman herself. She realized now she had been rooting for the Navy to get the job done and save her the trouble. Security cameras had spotted her getting away just before another salvo of missiles finished off the bunker. Ed had failed in his assignment, that was a pity. His family was being punished now for the man’s failure.
She leaned back in the leather seat, wondering again how she had arrived here. Why she was the one tasked with saving the world. It had been her father, she knew the evil bastard of a man was preparing her for this. While most kids had some sense of love from their parents, she couldn’t recall a single kind word from her father other than an occasional nod or, “That was adequate.” She idly wondered if the man was still alive. She knew the estate out on the island still existed. She could tell that by satellite images. It was not from a sense of love, nor even duty. The former Levy was a threat to her and the plans she had. Just like the president, he had to be dealt with as well.
She had pulled Archangel out of prison specifically to handle that task but had hoped he could help with the military problems as well. Now, things had gotten out of hand with him, too. Vincent was supposed to settle him down, but now he was dead. More was going on there, more with the Praetor group. It annoyed her more than anything else, she no longer knew who was running the Guardians. That was going to have to change. She lay back on the hard mattress trying to find a comfortable spot. She didn’t like complications, yet she knew she was running out of time to finalize her plans.
Seven hundred miles away Madelyn Chambers watched her driver as he dodged another group of the infected. The front grille of the car had remnants of many that he’d been unable to dodge on the long drive. An amber light began to flash on the driver’s console. “What’s that?”
The driver, whose name she’d forgotten, looked down, “Low air supply, ma’am.”
“Like a flat-tire? I thought the Beast had run-flat tires,” she challenged angrily.
“No,” he shook his head. “No, Madam President. It is our oxygen supply. I’ve been running on self-contained air since we left…you know, to avoid the plague. The tanks are refilled by an oxygen generator, but they have a limit. When the warning light turns red, valves will open allowing outside air into the system.”
She understood what that meant but was unconcerned for herself. She had received vaccines against the virus just as all of the top people in the bunker had. She looked at the top of the man's head as he drove. He, however, would not have been considered vital enough for the treatment. “How far to the port?”
“Maybe an hour….could be ninety minutes,” he said.
She nodded, “Please raise the glass.” Silently, the thickly reinforced glass partition rose up separating the driver's seat from the rest of the car.
She watched out the window as the landscape began to change from forest and hills to rolling pastures. Ahead lay her escape. The presidential yacht had sufficient food, supplies and equipment to last for months. Where would they go? What part of the globe would be spared? She was better at the planning and organizing than the execution. She realized that about herself, that was why she surrounded herself with doers. People who could help get stuff done. People like that fucking Ed. Ugh…she would have been on Marine One and down to Wilmington hours ago if not for his betrayal. And what about Levy? Will she let me live? Do I even have a chance to escape this?
As if in planned response, she noticed the light on the dash turn from amber to red. She cinched the lap belt around her snuggly. She’d watched Levy deliberately infect people to see how long it took. She also knew what came after. The victims lost their humanity and became angry, killing animals.
Twenty minutes later, she saw the driver’s head twist violently, then drop. He snapped it back up again as if he’d mistakenly fallen asleep at the wheel. The Beast was equipped with all manner of safety devices including collision avoidance and lane departure controls, but it couldn’t defend against a driver who was completely out of his mind. She watched in detached fascination as the man began to twitch then hunch himself up on the wheel as if to fight off the symptoms by sheer willpower. He stabbed a finger toward the dash.
“Ma’am,” came the raspy voice. “I am pulling over.” The voice was riddled with pain. “You probably need to…to go.”
The Beast slowed as she saw the man arch his back in a totally unnatural manner. She placed her thumb on a lighted panel to reveal several options. One switch activated to kill the engine remotely, then another that shut off all air to the front cabin. Then she sat back and waited.
In a few minutes, she could see the driver convulsing. The massively heavy car rocked back and forth slightly with the movement. His head popped into view through the safety glass and he turned to face her, the hatred and anger evident on his now inhuman looking face. He scratched at the window; even facing death, the desire to kill and spread the virus was paramount. His movements soon became languid and the gestures feebler. After ten minutes, he was still. Only a corner of his head was within view, but she waited until even the smallest of muscle twitches had ended before switching the air supply on in the cabin.
The driver remained still. Not even the infected could live without air, that might be why they seemed somewhat averse to water. It was a hope at least. She struggled to pull the ma
n from the seat. He’d soiled himself in the process of dying, and the smell and thought repulsed her. She roughly pushed him onto the highway, then went over to his body, removed his suit coat and used that to protect her dress from the nastiness of the driver’s seat.
Restarting the engine, she pulled the limo back into the lane and headed once again toward Wilmington.
Chapter Eighty-One
Harris Springs, Mississippi
Tahir spoke softly to DJ who still seemed confused at the request. “What has this got to do with us?”
“You remember the Star Trek episode when a second evil version of the captain is beamed aboard?”
“Duh. Every nerd knows that one. ‘The Enemy Within’ from 1966.”
“I’m impressed, so you are not totally ignorant of quality entertainment. Well, that is what our inspector here is thinking. Someone here is not who they seem. Just because the world went to shit didn’t mean all the evil bastards went with it.”
DJ still seemed confused, “This is about Diana? You think what…someone on board murdered her? Like a serial killer or something?”
Trish walked in overhearing the question. “DJ, we are just following up on a lead.”
The young man cocked his head quizzically, “What, a sailor? Someone on the science team?”
She shrugged, “We don’t know. A lot of the crew come over to the AG. It’s a possibility, that’s all. Warburgh is speaking to the captain now about duty rosters and who was on shore leave the day she went missing.”
DJ still was unconvinced, “Look, they all go over to Harris Springs. It’s the only other place they can go, and to many of ‘em, the people over there have almost become a second family this past six months.” He slipped off his lab coat and placed it on a hook. “Not sure how I can help you but whatever, sure. I liked the girl and all but, well… you know…in the scheme of things, just seems odd to pursue it this hard, ya know?”