The Malefic Nation (Graham's Resolution Book 4)

by A. R. Shaw

  “You’ve infected three individuals with a virus that will infect everyone?” James asked, clearly a little nervous.

  Clarisse spoke up, “Ah, actually, we’ve developed a highly virulent, selective virus that adheres to the markers of a vaccine they received. It will only infect the enemies that have received their own vaccine.”

  They all stood silent while the news sunk in to their new ally, hoping that he would indeed remained an ally.

  “You say you’ve created a bioweapon and you’ve infected three individuals with it to plant in the most populated areas? Do I have this correct?”

  “Yes,” Dalton said. “We captured three of the jihadists, and they’ve received the virus; they are indeed virulent bioweapons.”

  James was quiet for another minute and Dalton was beginning to get nervous.

  “This might work,” James said, and everyone relaxed a little. “I don’t mind telling you, I’ve listened to a lot of plotting and planning, and all of it has failed. There are so many of them, and there is no humanity in this enemy, son. There’s no low too low. Terrorism is what they know. But your plan might work, and I pray that it does. I can see why your buddy had a hard time with it. He wasn’t strong enough to handle the guilt of it all, but this is how it needs to be to survive. I’m in. I’m your third pilot. You say you need to go farther. My suggestion would be to take the plane to L.A. with extra fuel loaded. I’ve got a couple of extra bladder tanks. Know what those are?”

  Dalton didn’t, but he sure wanted to.

  “They’re called Turtle Buddies, and they’re made of collapsible heavy-duty polyurethane. It’s like having an extra tank of fuel that sits in your passenger seat,” James said.

  “That’s the best news so far,” Rick said, feeling hopeful.

  “How many do you have?” Dalton asked, already calculating distances in his head.

  “I have five but, you’d only need two to reach L.A.,” James answered.

  “If you’re in, we’re also going to Denver with the third plant,” Dalton said and James agreed with a handshake.

  “If the tank sits on the seat, what do you do with the subjects?” Graham asked.

  “Put them in the backseat or cargo area as the case may be. After all, it’s not a joy ride for them,” James offered.

  “We have to get them there alive and breathing. Preferably, breathing well and for an extended period of time,” Clarisse said.

  The remainder of the afternoon and evening were filled with planning. After nightfall they’d start on the perilous mission. No one knew, if they’d ever set eyes on their pilots again, but still they hoped these wouldn’t be one-way trips.

  Chapter 55 Saying Good-bye

  In the evening Dalton met in his cabin with his sons Kade and Hunter. The little boys were covered in dog hair and sweat, and they didn’t understand why their dad wanted to talk to them alone, though they knew something had to be going on due to all the excitement around the cabins. This was the part Dalton dreaded the most. If he admitted the truth to himself, he knew he might never see his sons again, and this meeting would be etched in their memories forever. They would forever recall the words he was about to say.

  Dalton put Kade on his knee as he sat in a comfortable chair, with Hunter leaning against him. They were just little boys. It killed him, knowing what he must do next, which was to break their hearts, but hopefully it meant their survival for years to come.

  “Dad, what are you doing with those airplanes out there? Are we going to fly somewhere?” Hunter asked.

  Kade looked excited, and looked up to him for the answer.

  “Um . . . well, I’m going to go on a little trip tonight. That’s why we have the planes out front. We’re getting them ready to go.”

  “Are we going?” Kade asked.

  “Actually, you are going to stay here with Clarisse and Graham and the others. I’ll be gone for a little while. That’s what I wanted to tell you guys.”

  “When will you be back?” Kade asked.

  “He’s not coming back,” Hunter said, pulling away from his father, but Dalton caught his arm before he could get away.

  He stared into his son’s eyes and knew he couldn’t lie. “Hunter, look at me,” he said, giving him a gentle shake. The boy looked up at him on the verge of tears. “This is a very important trip. We have a way to get rid of the bad guys. I’m going to try—I swear to God, I will do my damnedest to get back to you. But if I don’t do this”—his voice was cracking now as he shook his head and tried to form the words—“no one will live for long. Not you, not Clarisse, not even Addy or Bethany. I have to do this. Do you understand, son?”

  Hunter cried, and Dalton thought perhaps he’d gone too far. It was so hard not to shatter their world, and he had no idea how to go about conveying this life-or-death matter to them so that if he didn’t return it would mean they would at least remember that he loved them and that he’d gone on this mission as a last effort to save them.

  He pulled Hunter in close and cried as he hugged his sons. Soon Clarisse came in, having heard every word. When he saw her, he pulled her in too and they stayed that way for a long while before Dalton pulled himself away, determined to save them all no matter the cost.

  Chapter 56 Departure

  The engines sputtered to life. Rick took off, waving a last good-bye to Olivia while she wept openly on the dock, Bethany at her side. It was torture. Off he flew, his lights turned off for to avoid being seen. If all went well, he’d be back by dawn.

  Next was James. His last words were to Sheriff as he knelt down to the dog’s level and hugged him: “Good-bye, old boy.”

  He waved to Graham, having earlier told him how to handle the spillway of Diablo Dam if he never made it back. He’d told him a great many things, and Graham hoped he’d be able to remember all of them. It was as if the man never intended to return, but Graham made sure to tell him he’d maintain everything until he did. Then, James took off and, after his expert lift from Lake Ross, headed toward Denver with a heavy load.

  Last to go was Dalton, who hugged his cousin Mark, and then Graham. He, too, had earlier filled Graham in on a great many details about hidden bunker stashes. Graham agreed that he’d take care of his sons, and Dalton remarked that he’d never worry about them under his care. He moved on to McCann and the rest before he came to Clarisse. “It’s going to be fine. It’s about a thousand nautical miles, which will take over nine hours, so I better get a move on while I can travel under cover of darkness.” More caring and adequate words were lost to him except to say that he loved her like no other and that, no matter what, he would do everything he could to make sure he made it back to her.

  She shocked him then. She leaned into his side and whispered a revelation into his ear, “I’m two weeks pregnant, Dalton. I’ll carry you with me always. I . . . love . . . you. Please return.”

  Clarisse was always calculating, and she’d made sure to preserve something of Dalton within her because she doubted that their plan would preserve them all. She knew the risks. She loved him so much that she’d made it possible to have something of the both of them to never let go of.

  Dalton could only hold her a moment more, stunned with the surprise news. “I love you,” was what he said at last. He climbed into the cockpit, shut the door, and strapped himself in. Soon he’d left the lake and when he circled around, he looked back at them once. Though barely visible, they were all there, and he assumed they were waving. He looked ahead and gained altitude and they were soon out of sight as he flew south toward Los Angeles and the enemy.

  Chapter 57 Rick’s Mission

  It was decided early on that Rick would take the easiest mission. Planting his virulent weapon as close to a public area in Seattle and returning home posed a dangerous mission in itself, but Rick was up for the task.

  He would have taken any of the missions Dalton wanted him to, but taking this one made his chances of return better. At first he felt guilty, but one look at
his wife and daughter made him think otherwise. They needed him alive and with them.

  “How you doing back there?” he asked his cargo, even though the kid was unconscious.

  Rick liked James, and thought it would be best to match him with the least worrisome of the jihadist prisoners, so they gave him the man who seemed compliant in their scheme.

  The prisoner seemed resigned to his fate and even willing went along out of what they assumed was remorse. Instead of sedating him, they decided to keep him conscious so that the old man wouldn’t have to struggle with his weight. They kept him restrained, however; when it came down to it they didn’t want to give the guy free access to James if he changed his alliance again.

  The kid prisoner that Rick took was strapped in the backseat. Rick looked at him through his mirror, and could see beads of sweat cascading off his face. The kid was fading fast. “Sorry buddy,” Rick said, again realizing that the kid couldn’t hear him, but he felt a need to say it anyway.

  Rick hoped to land silently, as he’d done many times before, and then get the kid into a public area. They were each dressed in what the terrorists typically wore, and he hoped the night would further camouflage his efforts.

  Forty minutes into the flight, he came to the designated area; Lake Union, which was surrounded by a park in central Seattle. It was hard to see at night, so Rick flipped down the night vision goggles he brought along for the ride. There were a few boats in the way, and some of them were floating at odd angles. He circled around and got into a path to land unencumbered by the stray boats. He saw no one out in the night, and with any luck he’d get the boy into place and get the hell out of there within a few minutes.

  The plan was simple. He landed, quickly got out of his harness, popped the door open and tossed out a dingy that autoinflated. As he picked up the boy, Rick could feel the fever through his clothing. “I’m sorry kid,” he said as he placed him into the dingy. He gave him a water bottle and cut off the restraints on his hands and ankles. He pushed him toward shore with his foot, and watched as the dinghy floated away. He saw a few flashlight pop on in the distance.

  He closed the door, belted himself again, and took off. As he did another light shone toward his plane, blinding him slightly with the NVGs on. Rick flipped them up and sped away, quickly gaining altitude. He prayed no one would fire on him or the kid.

  After several minutes, with the engine noise taking up his thoughts, Rick continued to push forward and watched his tail the entire time. He had fuel to spare, so he took a more easterly route to throw anyone off his intended route if he were followed.

  Forty-five minutes later, he began his descent to Ross Lake. Graham held up two flashlights to help guide him in after Rick had radioed ahead.

  “Welcome back, man,” McCann said as Rick climbed out and McCann tied the lines to the dock. Then Olivia ran into Rick’s arms. “I’m okay. It was easy in and easy out. No problems,” he said with a grin.

  “I hope the same goes for the other two,” Graham said. Suddenly they were all grim, knowing there was little chance of that.

  “Let’s get rid of the plane in case they send out a search,” Graham said.

  Rick nodded. His heart was still beating a mile a minute. “That’s thinking ahead,” Rick said. “I hadn’t even considered it.” He climbed back into the cockpit and flew the plane over to the original hanger. McCann followed him in a smaller boat for the return ride.

  Graham and Olivia waited in the office to monitor the radios while Rick and McCann stashed the plane.

  “Where’s Sam?” Rick asked when he got back.

  “He took one of the horses and is checking the perimeter. Everyone’s a little antsy tonight,” Graham said.

  “I can see why,” Rick said. He, too, couldn’t settle down.

  “I’ll go relieve Mark,” McCann said, slipping off into the night with Sheriff in tow.

  After a period of silence, Graham said, “You two should go get some sleep. You can take over in the morning, Rick.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. We should try to sleep. It’s just going to be us, a smaller crew. We all need to watch that we each get enough sleep, because we’re going to be watching our backs for a while.”

  Graham watched the married couple leave and felt pangs. It wasn’t that he was jealous, just that he missed Tala. He wanted to tell her about what they’d just accomplished, but he’d never be able to. He’d like to think she already knew, but then that would be trying to convince himself of things he didn’t believe in.

  What was really on his mind now was Dalton. Graham couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d never see him again. His last radio transmission had been normal, a thumbs-up. They probably wouldn’t hear from him again even if and when he completed the mission. The same went for James. From now on, every time he looked at Clarisse, he’d realize that she too was feeling the same thing he was. It would never end, the heartache of loss. He pictured for the first time the dead man he’d discovered at the supply house after this all began, swinging from a noose in his garage after his family had died. Perhaps it was a privilege after all to have taken your own life and not submitted yourself to the fight they were in now. He suddenly envied the man.

  Chapter 58 Dalton’s Mission

  Dalton knew his flight down the coast to California would be a long, daunting challenge. The single-engine Cessna 206 Stationair was up to the task, and given the auxiliary fuel tank, he figured he would have just enough fuel to make the journey. The C206 was a very capable airplane for its class, but the large floats created substantial drag; its cruise speed was around 120 knots, and the plane burned roughly eighteen gallons of fuel per hour.

  Although a straight line would be the shortest, choosing that route would force him to cross several mountain ranges in the dark, which would require supplemental oxygen at those altitudes. The substantial drag created by the floats would also hinder his high-altitude performance—not to mention the potential weather hazards created by the moist Pacific air being forced upslope by the southwestern winds; icing conditions and floats simply did not mix.

  With this in mind, Dalton opted for a slightly longer but safer route down the coastline. With luck, the moonlight would allow him to visually follow the coast all the way down to California, staying just far enough out to sea to remain out of sight and sound to those who might be watching from shore.

  He tried not to let it get in the way, but Dalton couldn’t help but think about what Clarisse had just revealed to him. Now, more than ever, he knew he had to get back to them or die trying.

  Not having had the chance to be adequately rested for the journey, the near pitch black darkness and the steady drone of the airplane’s engine had Dalton fighting to stay awake. Wake up! he said to himself, smacking a hand across his face. He checked the clock on the instrument panel. “Dammit, it’s only been four hours?” he said aloud. “This is gonna be a long night.”

  He looked back at the unconscious prisoner, in restraints and strapped to her seat. “Fun, huh?” he asked, knowing she couldn’t respond. Clarisse had made sure she was completely out for the trip. “Bet you never took a plane ride like this before. I’d love to toss you out right here, but you are going to serve a purpose after all, you annoying wench.

  Looking to his left and realizing that the light of the moon was not illuminating the shoreline as it had been, Dalton turned his attention to the darkness up ahead. I didn’t realize just how damn hard it would be to see the coast with no city lights, he thought. It’s like vertigo out here sometimes. The view of the shoreline faded away into the darkness as he found himself entering an area of low visibility. Being an experienced instrument-rated pilot, Dalton was up to the task, but without ground-based navigation facilities transmitting their signals as they would have done in the days before the world collapsed, he had no way to continue to navigate adequately without a visual reference to the shoreline.

  Checking the standby compass heading, Dalton adjusted his direc
tional gyro and maintained his last heading and altitude. “We’ll probably fly right back out of it in a minute,” he said, looking back at his prisoner. “Like you care,” he said with a chuckle. “You want to die for Allah anyway.”

  After some time had passed, Dalton became unnerved that he was still flying blind inside what had started out as offshore mist but was now a full-fledged cloud bank. Checking the outside air temperature, he thought, a few more degrees and we’ll be in icing conditions. With no de-ice boots on this old bird, we could be screwed. Hell, for all I know I’ve been steadily drifting off course and heading farther and farther out to sea.

  Checking his standby compass against his directional gyro again, he realized the gyro had precessed approximately ten degrees, leading him to drift off course. Correcting his heading back to the left, Dalton struggled to see the shoreline through his left window, but he couldn’t see a thing.

  Out of frustration he punched the glare shield and shouted, “Dammit! I don’t have enough fuel to be messing around getting lost. This freaking cloud layer could go on for a hundred miles, for all I know. Screw it!” he said as he began a gentle descent. “Maybe we can pop out of the bottom of it. This crap probably doesn’t go all the way down to the water.”

  Dalton descended out of his cruise altitude of five thousand feet with a shallow rate of descent while focusing intently on his instruments, only occasionally glancing outside. Through four thousand, he said to himself as he watched the thousands hand of the altimeter swing past 4 in a counterclockwise motion. Still nothing. Can’t see a damn thing. Thirty-five hundred. Still nothing. Three thousand. Still nothing. Shit!

  His descent passed two thousand feet and approached one thousand. All right, that’s it. I can’t keep dropping till I hit the damn water. I’m making a turn toward the shoreline. I need to see something, and soon. I’ve completely lost track of my bearings.