Red Hammer: Voodoo Plague Book 4

by Dirk Patton

  Abandoning hope of reaching the river and being spotted by the helicopter, Rachel turned back to the west and started running. She knew she had improved dramatically with a rifle, and could probably have held her ground against a single female and a dozen males, but all she had was a pistol. She knew how to use it, but hadn’t fired at anything more than ten feet away and had no illusions about being able to fight with it. If they cornered her and were close, she would use it, but shooting at anything at much more than an arm’s length would be a waste of ammunition.

  Rachel ran hard, boots pounding on the dirt. She’d never been a runner, preferring to get her exercise from dancing and yoga, but since the attacks she’d had no choice. Running was survival now, not something to just burn calories after indulging in too much chocolate or a few extra fries. In good condition to start with, she’d grown stronger and faster, and now she pushed herself to quickly gain some separation from the pursuing infected.

  She had no doubt she could easily outdistance the males, but was worried about the female. The adrenaline fueled and rage enhanced females could run at a full sprint for long distances. They never seemed to tire, though Rachel knew they had to. No matter what the nerve agent and accompanying virus did to them, they were still limited by basic, human biology, and the human body would eventually tire. Unfortunately, she would tire well before the infected without benefit of what seemed to be a nearly limitless supply of adrenalin.

  Having covered close to half a mile, Rachel slowed to a fast walk and looked over her shoulder. In the darkness, at the limit of her vision, she saw a human silhouette climb onto the top of the dike and start sprinting in her direction. Guessing the female was now a quarter of a mile behind her, Rachel faced front again and ran. She knew she couldn’t outdistance the female, would have to turn and fight, but the more ground she covered before that moment, the farther away she was from the males.

  As she ran, Rachel remembered one of the lessons John had tried to teach her. One of the many that she’d listened to, but not really focused on what he’d been trying to convey. At the time, she hadn’t contemplated being on her own and having to fight. It had seemed like he’d always be there to protect her. He had been talking about shooting under stress and how your aim and control was affected by a pounding heart. Not remembering everything he’d said, but understanding the concept, Rachel slid to a stop and turned to face the female.

  Breathing deeply, she focused on calming her body as she drew the pistol and made sure a round was in the chamber and the safety was off. With her feet shoulder width apart, Rachel held the weapon in her right hand, relaxed, and watched the female approach. When the female closed to within fifty yards, she screamed. Rachel’s blood ran cold when there was an answering scream from the rice paddy to her left. Snapping her head in that direction she saw another female fighting through knee deep water, not more than twenty five yards from the base of the dike. Smart infected? Smart or not, they had hunted her, flanked her, and she was about to have two of them arrive at the same time.

  Raising the pistol into a two handed grip, Rachel aimed at the female sprinting along the top of the dike and fired her first shot. The infected was still about thirty yards away, but the 9 mm round punched into her stomach. She slowed for one step then kept on coming. Not daring to risk a glance at the female in the water, Rachel maintained her stance and started squeezing the trigger every half a second, slow and steady just like John had shown her. Her second shot missed, but the third, then the fourth struck the female in the chest. She staggered, slowed, but kept on coming.

  Sweating under the mud, skin crawling with fear, Rachel held her ground and fired two more rounds. The first one tore through her attacker’s shoulder, the arm flopping uselessly at her side. The second round ripped her heart in half and the infected’s body crashed to the ground close enough for Rachel to stick her foot out and touch it. Swiveling to her left, ready to fire, Rachel had to twist her body out of the way as the second female leapt at her.

  Rachel made her miss the tackle, but the infected reached out as she flashed past, grasping for any purchase on her prey. The female managed to grip Rachel’s right wrist for a moment, then her hand slipped down across Rachel’s and seized the pistol, yanking it free and sending it skidding across the dirt. Off balance, Rachel fell to the ground and scrambled forward on hands and knees to retrieve the dropped weapon. The female was faster, however, and recovered from her miss and leapt with a scream. Rachel changed direction, trying to avoid the infected, but knew she was too slow.

  Raising her arms to deflect the attack, Rachel flinched away as a body slammed into the attacking female. The two bodies crashed to the ground next to her and she rolled away from the fight, rolling too far and tipping over the edge of the dike. She couldn’t stop the roll and continued bouncing down the steep slope where she splashed into the paddy. Disoriented and experiencing a bit of vertigo, Rachel fought her way to her feet and looked up at the top of the dike. Dog stood at the edge, looking down at her, tail wagging hard enough to make his whole body shift back and forth.

  9

  Rachel climbed the dike and fell to her knees, arms wrapped around Dog, face buried in the matted fur of his neck. Sobs of relief racked her body for a few moments. Relief that Dog was alive. Relief that she wasn’t alone. For the first time since waking up in the mud on the river’s shore she felt a stirring of optimism that she might survive long enough to be reunited with John. She felt as much as heard the growl in Dog’s powerful chest, snapping her head up to look around. He was facing east, nose twitching as he scented the air. It was time to move.

  Rachel grabbed the pistol out of the dirt and they started walking west, Dog close by her side. Occasionally she glanced to the north at the glow of lights just over the horizon, but experience with other survivors tempered her desire to seek the company of strangers. Ignoring the lights, they continued on through the night. They hadn’t encountered any more infected, but Rachel knew it was only a matter of time. She smiled and patted Dog’s back, happy he was with her for the company and also because he’d know there were infected in the area long before she would.

  After a few hours of walking they reached the end of what had seemed like endless rice paddies. Pausing, Rachel was momentarily surprised to see pastures with an occasional tree and a narrow road paved with crumbling asphalt. The road ran to the west, picking up where the dike ended. Taking advantage of her last opportunity to survey the area with the height advantage the dike provided, Rachel could see nothing other than darkness. They had left the lights to the north behind an hour ago, and now it was completely dark in every direction.

  Rachel’s stomach rumbled and she was thirsty. Dog had drank from the irrigation water that flooded the paddies on several occasions, but Rachel wasn’t thirsty enough yet to risk consuming the plethora of bacteria and organisms to which a dog would be immune. She knew she could wind up with E Coli, Dysentery, or a dozen other ailments, any of which would be crippling and leave her unable to run or fight. She also knew that eventually her system would develop a resistance and she could drink water that hadn’t been filtered and purified, but wasn’t in any hurry to get there.

  Dog bounded gracefully down the sloping face of the dike, Rachel sliding and winding up on her ass for the last few feet. Dog stood looking at her, panting, and for all the world appearing to be laughing at her lack of coordination. Smacking him lightly on the rump, Rachel started down the road, sticking to the middle of the narrow ribbon of pavement.

  They walked for another hour, their pace slowing when the moon set and the small amount of light they had been relying on faded to nothing. Dog seemed unaffected by having only starlight by which to navigate, and again Rachel was thankful to have him with her. Pushing on, they covered another three miles, stopping when the road they were walking on dead ended into a slightly larger one that ran north and south. Rachel looked to Dog to see if he was detecting any infected, but he was just a darker form on the road
to her eyes. He wasn’t growling or trying to get her to start moving again so she relaxed a notch.

  Looking north and south, Rachel could see nothing except more darkness. No sign of habitation. Which way? Trying to picture a map of the United States in her mind, she finally gave up. The central part of the country just wasn’t geography that Rachel had any familiarity with. She knew her destination, Oklahoma City, was to the west, but it could have been hundreds of miles farther north or south as far as she knew. Tossing a mental coin, she turned to her right and headed north.

  Within three hundred yards Rachel smiled and congratulated herself when the road curved to the west. Hoping this was a sign that her luck was on the rise, she nearly cried out for joy when she spotted a squat building ahead of them. It was too dark to make out any details, and all she could see was the dark outline of the structure against the stars on the horizon. But that was enough for her to tell it was a building. Approaching cautiously, Rachel kept her hand on Dog’s back, ready to turn and run if he sensed any danger.

  Dog remained calm as they neared the driveway to the building. Moving off the road, Rachel froze when the ground under her feat changed from asphalt to gravel. Her first two steps had crunched as the gravel shifted under her boot soles, so loud that she was certain any infected hiding in the building would know she was there. Remaining frozen for a full minute, Rachel listened intently and watched Dog for any reaction. Finally, hearing nothing and not getting a warning from Dog, she resumed moving towards the building.

  The gravel that made up the driveway had apparently been recently put in place. There was a thick, lose bed of it, making a lot of noise from being walked on, not packed tightly into the ground like old gravel driveways are. Cringing with every step, Rachel forced herself to keep walking, finally close enough to the building to recognize it as a gas station. In front of the garage and office was a small area paved with concrete that held a single gas pump. Happily stepping onto the concrete, Rachel paused again to listen and give Dog a chance to sniff the air.

  Rachel’s heart skipped a beat when Dog growled deep in his chest. He was looking directly at the office portion of the building, ears straight up as his nose twitched. Rachel slowly drew her pistol, somewhat more confident in her ability to defend herself with it after having killed the infected on the dike. If John was here he’d caution her to not get overconfident, but he wasn’t, and she needed all the confidence she could muster at the moment.

  Dog stopped growling and moved forward, leaving Rachel standing alone. Surprised, she stayed put as Dog walked up to the glass door and started wagging his tail. Not enthusiastically like he had when they’d been reunited, but still a wag to let someone know he was friendly. Friendly wag or not, Rachel raised her pistol and aimed at the door, preparing herself for a screaming infected to come charging out and across the concrete apron. She almost pulled the trigger when the door started to open, and if not for Dog continuing to stand there and wag his tail, she would have.

  Two figures stepped out, both moving timidly towards Dog. Expecting infected, Rachel was caught by surprise when she realized these weren’t even adults. She lowered, then holstered the pistol as the shorter of the two walked forward and started petting Dog. They hadn’t seen Rachel in the darkness, shrinking back towards the door when she started moving forward.

  “It’s OK. I’m not going to hurt you.” Rachel called softly, afraid to make any noise but not wanting them to disappear back inside. They stopped moving when they heard her voice, but stayed poised to run. Dog took a step forward and sat down next to them, looking for more petting.

  “My name’s Rachel. This is Dog. Are you here alone?” Rachel slowly covered the distance to where Dog sat. When she was within a few feet she could tell the two were both girls, and based on their size guessed their ages at 8 and 10, but couldn’t see any details in the dark.

  “We’re alone,” the older of the two spoke up. “They came to take our Ma and Daddy. Ma made us hide so they wouldn’t find us.”

  “Who took your parents?” Rachel asked. “The infected?”

  “No. The bad men. They said it’s time for our kind to go back to the fields where we belong.” The little girl said.

  “What do you mean, back to the fields? What are you talking about?” Rachel was completely confused.

  “On account of we’s niggers!” The younger girl said, her voice hard and dripping with venom, belying the way she had gently petted Dog’s head.

  10

  Jackson and I stepped out of the office building, through with my interrogation of the captured Russians. It was well after midnight, and I was momentarily refreshed by stepping out into the cool, night air. Looking up at the sky as I dug for a cigarette, I absently noted that the moon had already set, the stars twinkling brightly. I hoped that Rachel and Dog were somewhere safe, looking up at the same sky.

  “What did you learn?” I was startled when Colonel Crawford spoke. He had found a cheap, plastic lawn chair and was sitting in the dark, looking up at the night sky, waiting for me. Apparently he’d been waiting for a while as there was a fairly impressive pile of neatly stacked cigarette butts on the ground next to him. He gestured to two empty chairs and Jackson and I gratefully sat down.

  “Some, but they don’t know much.” I answered. “The Captain says they were told that the American government has requested assistance from Russia to put down an uprising within our military.” Crawford snorted when he heard this.

  “That’s actually brilliant.” He said. “Tell your troops they’re saviors, not invaders. Everyone gets to be a hero.” I nodded agreement. I’d had exactly the same thought when the Russian Captain had told me.

  “What else?” Crawford field stripped a cigarette by pinching just below the filter and rolling it back and forth until the burning tobacco dropped out of the paper and onto the ground. He crushed the smoldering cherry under his boot before adding the butt to the neat pyramid he was building.

  “Got an idea of troop strengths, where they are, equipment brought in, which units were deployed, and a few other tid-bits.” I handed him the legal pad Jackson had made notes on during the interrogations. “The enlisted don’t know many details, but based on what they saw as the Russians made preparations, I think the Captain is telling the truth.”

  “Speaking of truth, did you set him straight about what’s really going on?”

  “No, sir. Didn’t see the point, even if he believed me, which I doubt he would.” Crawford nodded his head in agreement. “Any luck reaching Command? Or anyone for that matter?”

  “I finally spoke to an Admiral Packard. He’s CINCPACFLT (Commander in Chief Pacific Fleet). The Navy’s still got some command and control capabilities on a couple of ships, and they monitored four nuclear detonations within the continental US yesterday morning. Two at Mt. Weather, two at Cheyenne Mountain. They can’t confirm it was the Russians, NORAD is in pieces, but that’s the educated guess.”

  We all sat quietly in the dark, Crawford lighting another cigarette. I had lit one, but had wound up just holding it in my hand and not smoking it. I stripped it and carefully added on to the Colonel’s project.

  “Are we retaliating?” Jackson spoke up. He had been unusually quiet through the whole interrogation. I didn’t blame him. It hadn’t been pleasant.

  “We can’t.” Crawford drew deeply on his smoke and leaned his head back to look straight up at the stars. “The Russians successfully decapitated us. All civilian leadership is dead. All senior military leadership is dead. The arming and launch codes for all our nukes are gone. There’s fail safes built into the system to allow deployment even if this happens, but they require three senior military officers to coordinate, and Admiral Packard is the only officer on the list that is still alive. Or at least that we know where he is.”

  I leaned back and let out a deep sigh. The Russians had finally done what the Soviets had said they would do shortly after the end of World War II. America was on its knees. No,
that’s being too generous. We were on our backs and gasping for air. It wouldn’t take much more to finish us off. But if the Russians thought they’d just be able to waltz in and settle down, they were in for a rude awakening. Americans may argue and fight amongst ourselves, appearing weak and divided to outside observers, but don’t underestimate us. Well, if there were any of us left, that is.

  “There’s something else you should know.” Crawford interrupted my train of thought. “The devices that were detonated in New York, DC and LA. Admiral Packard says his analysts have finished going over the data and have concluded they were Soviet, not Chinese.”

  “What? How can they tell?” I asked, stunned by the news.

  “Something to do with the signature of the initial detonation which was recorded by satellites, and analysis of the fall out. They are confident these were not only Soviet, but had been smuggled into the US during the Cold War. Probably in the 60s or 70s.”

  “So you’re saying the Russians are behind this? Or that at the very least they were cooperating with the Chinese?” Jackson asked, sounding as caught off guard as I was.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say the Russians played the Chinese. Got them to do the dirty work, take the hits from us to knock them out of the picture, and are now stepping in to seize the spoils of war. I’ve spent a lot of time studying the Chinese. After the Cold War it was popular wisdom that the next 800 pound gorilla on the block to challenge us would be China, so there was a focused effort to understand them. One of the things I learned is that the Chinese are masters at playing the long game. Setting things into motion years, if not decades in advance, then manipulating others to get their plans to come together.