“We’re putting together a mission,” Boyle turned to him.
“What kind of mission?” Misha stifled a yawn.
“There’s this place called the Black Box not far from here.”
Misha stiffened. “Is that like the White Box?” He had learned all about the mega laboratory underneath the city of Leighton from Mathias. It’s where the hybrid virus had come from thanks to some power hungry assholes. Except assholes wasn’t nearly a strong enough word for them.
“It is a Keystone facility, yes,” Boyle confirmed.
“Why would you want to go there? To blow it up? ’Cause that doesn’t sound like a good idea to me if there are possible contagions down there.”
“Calm down,” Boyle smiled briefly and held up his hands. “From what we know, the Black Box is a lot smaller than the White Box. A lot smaller. It also wasn’t used to research anything chemical or biological. Nothing medical, no diseases. Apparently, it was all computer software and hardware development.”
“So why go there?”
“Apparently, the place has its own power source, one that’s likely still running.”
That surprised Misha a little. Most places had been shut down before they were abandoned, so long as there had been time. To the far north, there had been nuclear meltdowns, and the last time they had picked up radio transmissions from the mainland, most of the places in the south and west had agreed to a controlled demolition when they knew they were going to fail. Basically, they permanently shut down the power early to save the land from radiation. The Diana survivors had no way of telling which places had actually followed through with that plan, but some must have, because their radiation detectors weren’t going off.
“I doubt it’s a power source we can just lug around,” Misha commented.
“We don’t plan to move it. We plan to move us into the Black Box.”
It took Misha a moment to compute what he had just heard. Move everyone into the Black Box? Why? That sounded like a terrible idea, and it’s what Misha told Boyle.
“All the leaders have agreed it’s a good idea. We’ve spoken to everyone we could find who knows anything about the Black Box. A few of our residents used to live and work there. The place is completely secured against zombies, and, with power, we could set up a farm using UV lights.”
“I don’t like it, but my opinion doesn’t count, does it.” Misha didn’t make it a question, knowing it was the truth. “Why tell me all of this?”
“Like I said, we’re putting together a mission. We need a team to go in there and check out the place. Although it’s secure against zombies when locked down, we don’t know if someone left a door open somewhere. We also don’t know if any people are living in there. From what we’ve learned, there probably are. If there aren’t, then the power wouldn’t have stayed on, and we can quickly write the place off.”
“You want me to go on this mission?”
“Actually, we want Rifle,” Boyle looked at the German Shepherd who was sitting next to Misha.
Misha looked down at him too. Rifle was confused by the sudden attention, but slowly wagged his tail a few times, looking back and forth from one man to the other.
“We assumed you’d want to accompany your dog,” Boyle continued, looking back up at Misha.
“What if I say he’s not going?” Misha continued to look down at Rifle and placed a hand on the big dog’s head. Rifle wagged his tail harder.
Boyle heaved a sigh. “Honestly, there’s nothing we can do about it. If you say neither you nor the dog goes, then neither you nor the dog goes. We won’t force you, but I want you to think about it. Think of all the people in that warehouse. Many of them don’t know how to survive in the open, or on the move. I’ve heard part of your story, how you escaped the city half naked and on your own.”
“I wasn’t alone. Rifle was with me.” Misha crouched down in front of Rifle and massaged his jowls.
“Right. The point is, you survived in the open. A lot of these people haven’t, they’ve just been moved around like cattle, sad to say. They were scooped up from their homes and brought to the prison, and then from there they were taken to the Diana. They need secure walls. They need electricity and people to tell them what to do. It’ll be tight in the Black Box, especially if there are people already living there, but it’s a place for them. We just have to make sure it’s truly safe and secure first, and Rifle would be a huge asset. Personally, I’d like you on this mission as well. Quite a few of our off-shippers and ship defenders have been injured or killed, and we need able-bodied volunteers to go. Rifle is important though. You ask anyone what dog they’d want with them in a crisis, and they’d tell you Rifle. He’s smart, and obedient. We want his nose in the Box as an early warning system.”
“Stop talking,” Misha told Boyle without looking away from his dog. Rifle was his dog now. With Alec gone, Misha was his sole owner, although he rarely thought of it in those terms. Rifle was his brother. “Give me a moment to think and talk to Rifle.”
Boyle did as he was asked. He even took several steps away to give them some privacy.
“What do you think bratishka?” Misha asked Rifle, looking him in the eyes. “Do you think we should go check out this Black Box?”
Rifle blinked, an answer that could mean anything. His ears were alert, focused intently on Misha, waiting for a command or some word that meant it was playtime.
Misha smoothed all the fur on Rifle’s face, and then moved down to his shoulders. The dog’s muscles were tense, as he waited for what would happen next. Misha sighed. He knew that if Rifle could speak and understand what was going on, he’d want to check out the Black Box, even if he didn’t like it. That’s just the kind of dog he was; the kind who helped people in need.
“Fine,” Misha spoke loudly enough for Lieutenant Boyle to hear him. “We’ll go. When do we leave?”
***
It wasn’t until nearly noon that the team headed out. It took a while to put together enough volunteers, and then to make sure they were all adequately armed. Misha spent the morning tracking down a pair of shoes he could borrow. It wasn’t hard to find a few people willing to lend him their shoes, but it took a while to find a pair that fit.
Now, he was sitting on the deck of the submarine, between Jon and Danny, with Rifle sitting between his knees. The helicopter had just returned from a quick scouting mission, informing them that the way looked clear as they pulled away from the dock. Misha would rather have not had the helicopter do a fly over. Even though it flew at a fairly high altitude, with the flight team inside using binoculars to check out the ground, the sound of the rotors risked drawing out zombies and warning unfriendly humans that they were coming.
“Anxious?” Jon asked him, noting Misha’s posture and tapping foot.
“Yes.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Like Tobias?”
Jon shut his mouth. The words had been uncalled for. Misha felt the sick rolling of his stomach intensify.
“Sorry,” he told Jon, “I just don’t really want to be here.”
“Then why did you volunteer?” Danny asked him.
“They wanted Rifle to go, and I wasn’t letting him go without me. It’s what Alec and Mathias would have wanted.”
Danny nodded, a small wince of pain crossing his face. The guy had lost his brother, Mathias, the last remaining member of his family. His blood family, anyway. Well, there was his niece, Hope, now, and Riley was his sister-in-law and she also brought along her twin, Cameron, into the family. And of course, he always had his survivors family, of which Misha was a member.
Misha should just keep his mouth shut during this trip, as he had managed to wound both of his friends in one conversation. At least Rifle still liked him. The German shepherd sat with him, his big head resting on top of one of Misha’s knees.
The submarine rumbled along through the water, with a few lifeboats following behind. They had put together a rather large team for t
his operation.
“Hello, boys.” James Brenner suddenly appeared, finding an empty space to sit next to them. The inside of the submarine was claustrophobic, so quite a few people had chosen to sit up on the deck, now that the helicopter was landing back near the warehouses.
“What’s up?” Jon asked.
“I’m here to tell you the plan, specifically your part in it.”
Jon gestured for him to go on.
“Well, the important thing for you to know is that you’re going to be part of the vanguard.”
Misha frowned. “I don’t think I know that word.” It had been awhile since he had come across an English word he didn’t understand. It annoyed him.
“Means we’re going to be at the front,” Danny filled him in.
“Right. It’s going to be you three, myself, and Commander Crichton, along with Nicky.”
Misha’s eyebrows headed for his hairline. He hadn’t realized that Crichton himself was coming on this mission.
“Nicky? Why is she coming?” Jon asked.
“Out of everyone we’ve talked to, she actually remembers the most about the Black Box. Strange I know, but no one else has lived there as long as she has.”
“Can we rely on her memory to stay put? I mean, I don’t know her very well, but I know she’s got head problems.”
Misha suddenly remembered who Nicky was. He remembered seeing her in what the doctors thought was a coma, sitting across the aisle from him on the plane that had to make an emergency water landing six years ago. She had previously been hit in the head a lot. It didn’t surprise him to hear she had memory problems.
“We just need her to get us into the building,” James explained. “Crichton’s actually been to the Black Box before. He doesn’t remember it clearly, all these damn facilities start to blend together after a while, but he should be able to navigate it all right. If Nicky’s memory stays, great, then she stays with us, but Dr. Owen will be tagging along just behind us in case something happens.”
“So we’re at the front, following Crichton’s direct orders,” Danny clarified their role in the mission.
“Correct. Everyone else is receiving their orders now. We’re going to be passing between two islands first. In fact, we’re pretty much there already.” James looked up, ahead of the sub.
Sure enough, two pieces of land were approaching, one on either side.
“The lifeboats are going to detach from us and drop a few men off on each island. Based on the maps, there’s nothing really on either of them, but we want them checked out. They could be useful in the future if we can make them secure. Once we’re through here, we’re making another crossing to the mouth of a river. Following the river, we’re going to come to a barge dock. From there, it should be straight up the road to the Black Box. A few men are going to stay behind at the docks, and more will take up positions along the road. We don’t want anything sneaking up on us. A few teams will do a thorough sweep of the barge docks, and then any other buildings between them and the Box. Once we’re inside the Box, men will be taking up positions behind us at hallway intersections, as well as investigating the smaller rooms we won’t be bothering with.”
“What sort of rooms will we be looking into?” Jon wondered.
“Large spaces. The hardware research lab, the manufacturing floor, the testing facility, a few open concept work spaces, conference rooms, maybe a few offices, the cafeteria, the exercise room, the pool, and anywhere else like that that I’m forgetting.”
“That’s a lot of ground to cover,” Misha commented.
“The closer to the entrance we are, the more men we will have with us. They’ll take up posts in the large spaces once we’ve done a sweep just in case we missed anything.”
“I’m guessing we’re not all going to have walkie-talkies,” Jon observed.
James shook his head. “There are too many of us, and we lost a bunch with the Diana. One of the reasons we want so many people down there guarding posts, is so that we can verbally relay messages back and forth. Not the best way to communicate, but it’s the best we could come up with. That’s our reason for dropping men off on the islands. They’ll have walkie-talkies, and will be able to relay communications with those still at the container yard if need be. The walkie-talkies don’t have the range to reach from the Black Box to the container yard. Any more questions?”
Misha shifted uncomfortably, but he couldn’t think of any.
“Right. I have a few more people to see before we get to the barge dock, so if you don’t have any more questions I’ll be off.” James stood up and paused a moment. When still no one said anything, he walked off to another part of the submarine’s deck.
Misha shifted himself so that he could see the water. He sat and watched the scenery roll by for the rest of the ride. It took longer to get to the river than James had made it sound, and the river was a lot wider than he expected. At the mouth, they passed by a dock that led up to some large white silo-like containers. Misha wondered what was in them. As they continued along the river, which was wide enough to be a lake, he wondered what would have happened if he had never gone to Canada for schooling. His father had pushed him into it, Misha hadn’t had a choice, but if he had, and if he had stayed in Russia, where would he be right now? He thought there was a good chance that he’d be dead. He certainly never would have found Rifle, or rather, Rifle wouldn’t have found him. Wrapping his arms around Rifle, Misha leaned forward and planted a big kiss on the side of the dog’s face. When he pulled back, Rifle turned his head and looked at him, as if asking what that was for.
“You’re a good boy,” Misha told him, the well-known words getting a tail wag in response. “Ja ljublju tebja.”
Danny looked at Misha. “What was that?”
“Nothing important.”
The submarine followed a series of snaking turns, the river becoming narrower the farther they went. There was nothing on the banks now, except trees, rocks, and mud. For those who didn’t see much of the land while on the Diana, it was strange to see so much green in February.
“That must be the barge dock,” Jon pointed ahead.
They were rounding a corner, and an empty barge gave the place away. It wasn’t so much a dock as it was a short wall of cement. The place was a lot smaller than Misha had envisioned. He had a feeling it was a lot smaller than everyone expected it to be. Other than a few shed-like structures near the water, he couldn’t even see a building. It wasn’t going to take long for that other team to investigate the place.
“Come on you guys,” James called to them as he moved toward one side of the submarine.
The three of them stood up and made their way to James. As Misha stood near the edge, watching their careful docking job, he thought about Shoes’ funeral. That had been less than forty-eight hours ago, but as it had with the Day, it felt a whole lot longer.
Once the submarine was close enough to the shore, a wooden ramp was heaved across the gap to make a bridge. The first people off had ropes with them to secure the submarine, while Misha and his group of vanguards went next.
“I’ll lead with Nicky,” Crichton ordered them. “Misha, I want you and your dog behind us with Jon. Danny and James, you take up the rear. Let’s go.”
Crichton started them moving at a brisk jog. Misha was very glad to have found a pair of shoes that fit. He probably looked silly, wearing a wetsuit, running shoes, and a belt holding a pistol on one side and a machete on the other, but he had dealt with worse. He would rather have had a hunting rifle instead of a pistol, but it had been decided that everyone on the lead team would have pistols. They would be more useful inside the Box than rifles would be. Thinking of Rifle, Misha glanced down to check on him. He was keeping up with ease, and seemed to be enjoying the quick pace.
“Think one of those cars or trucks still work?” Nicky asked as they jogged past a small grouping of them. The things looked like they hadn’t worked even before the Day.
“Doubt it.
It’s probably been years since they’ve been started up,” James called up in response. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to leave the others too far behind.”
By the time they reached the road and were passing another small structure, Crichton slowed them to a brisk walk. Misha was relieved. Although he ran laps every day on the Diana, like many people did, his hip had started hurting again. A fast walk he could manage much easier than a jog.
Like the sub ride, the road was not as short as James had made it seem. It was straight though. Along the left side of the road, there was some sort of white piping. It made Misha nervous about going to the Keystone place, even though they would never have pipes of anything like that out in the open. At one point, they passed a road going to the left, the piping rising up and over it. Trees blocked Misha’s view of what was down there. Another team would probably check it out. On their right appeared to be an empty lot with a crane. Investigating it wouldn’t take very long. Misha kind of wished he was on that investigation team instead of this one.
Farther up the road, the pipes veered left. They headed to some large, black cylindrical containers. A train was stopped on a set of tracks alongside the place.
“Should we be wearing some sort of masks?” Misha worried.
“It’s okay,” Jon assured him, “all the chemical leaks have long since stopped and dissipated. At least from the air.”
“Don’t you guys normally wear masks when you’re out here?”
“I don’t think a bandanna would do much against poisoned air. We wear them to protect ourselves from zombie blood.”
Misha realized they didn’t have anything with which to protect their faces against that either. It wasn’t as if he could just pull his shirt over his mouth and nose like the others could if they had to.
Survival Instinct (Book 3): Fighting Instinct Page 40