by JT Sawyer
“Please don’t,” said Travis. He walked over to the rest of the group, who had just finished adjusting their packs. He cinched down his shoulder straps, then leaned over and grabbed the MK-12 sniper rifle. Travis rested it across the top of his pack, placing both his hands over either end of the weapon. He nodded with his chin towards the horizon. “Let’s head to those mitten formations in the distance and then take a short siesta before pushing on to Monument Valley. If the country ahead looks familiar it just means you’ve watched your share of John Wayne movies, as that’s where most of ’em were filmed at.”
“Well, let’s hope the Duke is with us and will help kick some zombie ass. Now that’d be a great Western film, eh?” said Dane with a chuckle. He took the lead, swinging a water jug in either hand as he walked.
While the rest of the group followed, Travis came up alongside Katy. She turned and smiled, then looked off at the vast terrain ahead. “Looks like we’re back in the wilds once more.”
He took a deep breath. “Yes it does, but this time it feels more like being at home.”
They leaned forward under the weight of their packs, following on top of the footsteps that wound before them like a tan ribbon across the sandy expanse of desert.
No Place To Hide
Volume 3 in the First Wave Series
By
JT Sawyer
Copyright
Copyright 2014 by JT Sawyer
No part of this book may be transmitted in any form whether electronic, recording, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction and the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, incidents, or events is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter 1
Fairfax, Virginia, Seven Months Before the Pandemic
Travis was adjusting his blue neck-tie for the third time while looking in the passenger’s visor mirror at his clean-cut face and business suit. He was sitting in an immaculate BMW as he and Talia drove through the outskirts of Fairfax, Virginia. She was dressed in a white blouse, black business skirt, and heels. They were one mile from their intended target at the Pallas Biosystems Laboratory, the nation’s largest research-based biotech firm.
“You look pretty snazzy for a counter-terrorism agent,” said Talia. “Too bad you’re such a devoted husband or I might have you in my cross-hairs.”
“Even if I were single, I’d have to steer clear of Hurricane Talia—you go through men like Kleenex.”
“Ouch, that hurts, and here I thought American males were always on the prowl, looking for a feisty woman,” she said, driving forward after the light turned green.
“Yeah, and I thought Israeli women were family-oriented with scruples beyond a sorority girl.”
“Hey, I’m a family girl—I just want to do some sampling so I make sure I bring home the right guy to meet my parents,” she chuckled. “Besides, as much as I’m zipping around the globe, the occasional fling suits me much better. I’m not sure how you’ve managed to hold a marriage together considering how often we’re deployed.”
“Well, ‘holding it together’ sounds about right. Jules wasn’t happy I had to leave again after just getting back from that op in Africa. Hell, I see you and Logan more than my own family. Too bad neither of you cook as well as my wife does, though.”
Travis enjoyed working with Talia again, after having both been away on separate missions in recent months. He liked her matter-of-fact leadership style, and he had seen her enough in combat to know she had the physical prowess to back up her tactics. She was in charge of this mission as she had more operational experience than Travis, having been with Logan’s unit two years longer than him. Prior to joining this outfit, she had worked as an Israeli Mossad agent for most of her career, starting with intel and working her way up to field operations, where her looks and fieldcraft had gotten her far. There had been rumors in the unit that Talia and Logan were involved at some point, but he knew how fleeting such relationships in the special operations community were and put little stock in it.
Logan’s voice broke through his internal chatter as his earpiece activated. “Don’t forget, once you’re both inside Pallas there will be a nine-second delay before we gain control of security cameras and commandeer their system,” said his boss.
“Copy that,” they both replied.
“So, we float past security, get to the fourth sub-floor, extract the package, and then just walk out—is that right? Just like that?” Travis said.
“You were there at the briefing—this isn’t a hot extract where you go in with guns blazing,” said Logan. “You’ve both got the proper embellished credentials to get you to where you need to be, and with our tech staff working the security systems, you should be in and out in thirty minutes. Unless you run into a snag or we need to relay pertinent intel, I’m going dark for now.”
Travis glanced over at Talia. “Thirty minutes, eh? I don’t think I’ve ever worked an op that looked so carefree on the planning table,” he said, adjusting the shoulder holster that held his HK pistol.
“Relax,” Talia said, clicking off her earpiece while making a right turn and then proceeding up the ramp of a parking structure adjacent to Pallas Biosystems. “Once in a great while we do these kinds of urban ops that don’t involve kicking in doors and loppin’ the heads off bad guys, so enjoy it. Besides, Logan is tasked with doing these security tests for different biotech firms, per federal regulations, and it works out well for both parties. The companies get to see where their weaknesses are and we get additional contacts in the industry which translates to more dollars, which means cooler weapons and more missions.” After parking, Talia got out, straightening her skirt and glancing at the bun in her hair in the car’s side-view mirror.
Travis slammed the gleaming car door and then they took the skywalk across to the main entrance. A yellow biohazard symbol with a sword piercing the middle and the bold letters of Pallas were embossed on the glass double doors at the entrance. Above were the words: “Enhancing the human experience through the rigorous application of research and science.”
Travis adjusted a tan laptop case across his shoulder. Talia was carrying an oversized handbag and pushed her glasses further up on the bridge of her nose as they strode past two armed guards near the main entrance. They flipped their badges onto the security scanner at the front desk and proceeded down a hallway to the right, towards the main elevators.
Once inside, Talia looked up at the security camera in the corner. “Logan has hacked the system by now or we would have already been jumped by those two surly guards up top. One retinal scan ahead, then two more checkpoints and we’re outta here—then you’re buying lunch.”
“Pff,” Travis sputtered. “I bought last time when we were in Malaysia.”
The steel doors came to an abrupt halt at the fourth sub-floor. Travis and Talia peeled off on an immediate left, walking past numerous airlocked rooms until they reached a set of metal double doors with a retinal scanner beside it. They both took turns leaning forward to have their eyes scanned, after which the vacuum-sealed doors opened inward with a swish.
The laboratory before them had a bright white floor and peroxide walls. Down the center of the floor were two rows of workstations, each one identical to the next, containing a microscope, centrifuge, test tubes stands, and laptops. There were only two researchers working at the far end with their backs turned. Both men were peering into the next room, which was separated from the lab by a floor-to-ceiling glass barrier. Beyond the barrier was a rectangular chamber that had a live monkey inside a cage. Travis could see that the monkey was nearly hairless and its skin had a blue-mottled appearance.
As the sound of Talia’s heels echoed through the lab, the two researchers turned and looked at them. “Can I help you?” said a bald man in a lab coat. “This is a restricted area.”
“I’m Dr. Heinrich Blofeld,” said Travis with a toothy smile as they approached. He extended a hand and when the tall man reached to shake, Travis yanked him forward, spinning him around while sliding both his arms around his neck. The vicious chokehold took effect instantly as the man dropped his computer tablet on the ground and went limp. Talia had already swept up around the other researcher and brought him down on one knee with a swift kick before placing him in a similar hold, rendering him unconscious.
With both men down, Talia walked over to a wall-mounted safe. “The code is eleven, nine, seven, two, six,” said Logan’s voice in her ear.
“Copy that,” she said, tapping in the numbers on the black keypad. The small airlocked door popped opened. Talia reached inside and started slowly extracting a metallic case with a combination lock on its side. “So much for all this redundancy—we’ve managed to breach the facility, lab, and now the safe,” she said with a smirk. “Like this combo lock is going to be an issue.”
As she slid the case out, a pressure plate underneath the object sprang up, followed by the sound of a shrieking alarm.
“Shit. Well, call me a liar,” she said, yanking the case and turning to run for the double doors they came in through.
“Is this your idea of an easy snatch-and-grab, sister?” said Travis.
The double doors were closing as they bolted, and they only just made it past the entrance before they sealed. They ran down the hallway, their business shoes resounding off the sterile walls. Red lights were flashing on the walls as they sprinted by room after room. They arrived at a t-section near the elevator.
“Those doors are locked down. Split up and go to your secondary extraction points,” said Logan.
Travis glanced at Talia as they separated. “Just remember, you still owe me lunch!” he said, sprinting down the corridor in the opposite direction.
Travis made a right turn down a short hallway. He could hear the footfalls of approaching people. “You’ve got four security personnel headed your way. I’ll access the room on your left. Duck in there until it’s clear.”
He heard the door lock click and then yanked it open, sliding inside. Quietly closing the door, he pressed himself against the wall. The room was too well sealed and he couldn’t detect any sounds outside. He waited a few minutes, straining to hear any movement.
“Is the coast clear yet, Logan?”
“Stay put. It might be a few minutes.”
As he calmed his breathing, he turned to look at the room behind him. There was a massive window that ran from floor to ceiling with a single airlocked door at the right end. He walked up to the glass wall and looked inside, straining to see into the dimly lit chamber. He could vaguely make out a single row of six tables, each one containing a body. Christ! Right in the heart of Frankenstein’s lab.
He studied the supine corpses; each one revealed men who appeared to have been in their late twenties, with patches of hair missing, prison tattoos, and their skin possessing a faint mottled appearance. Travis glanced down at the clipboards dangling off the edge of the wall by his knee. He flipped through the notes which said: Test subjects died after seven hours from hemorrhagic fever. Unable to get patients into stasis chamber in time to prevent mortality. Virus progressing faster on subjects now that the strain has been modified.
He lowered the clipboard and stared at the dead figures again. Live subjects…they’re using convicts for testing, he thought. I’ve seen worse shit than this in labs in third-world countries but wouldn’t have expected it here in ours.
Travis heard the sound of an airlock depressurizing. To his right he saw a narrow door beginning to open. It led from the chamber with the bodies to the main laboratory before him. He darted into the corner near a rack with lab coats and a filing cabinet, crouching into a fighting position. As the massive door slowly opened, a lone figure in a yellow biohazard suit emerged. His back was to Travis as the man punched in numbers on the wall keypad.
As the door to the decontamination vault closed, the man began to loosen his enclosed headwear. Travis sprang upon the figure and clamped his arms around the man’s neck in a sleeper-hold. After lowering him to the floor, he turned him over. The man was frail-looking, and appeared to be in his 60s, with a wispy silver goatee, spectacles, and short hair. A fresh bruise covered his right cheekbone. Travis unzipped the biohazard suit and looked through the man’s pockets. All he found was an ID badge attached to the man’s shirt that read, “Doctor George Gummerman, Neuroscience.”
Logan’s voice jutted through his confusion. “Time to move,” said Logan. “Proceed out the door to your left and then to the stairs. I’ll guide you out from there.”
Travis was silent as he stood looking at the thin man and then back at the tables of corpses beyond the glass. “Travis, you copy?”
“Yeah, roger that,” he said with apprehension. “I’m on my way—you’re not gonna believe the horror show they’re running down here.”
****
Two hours later, Travis and Talia were being debriefed in Logan’s office at their command center near Langley. “I’m telling you that Pallas is running a Wild West act in their labs down below,” said Travis, who was pacing back and forth while stripping off his suit coat. “They must be pretty fucking cavalier not to even worry about keeping such things hidden better during a potential security test on their facility.”
“They didn’t know we were coming today,” said Logan. “It was actually supposed to be tomorrow but I always prefer the element of surprise when doing these to provide a more realistic probe of a company’s defense measures.”
“We need to do something about those bodies,” said Travis.
Logan mulled over the intel while tapping his fingers on his maple desk. “They will have scrubbed the place by now, so no point in going back and turning it upside down. Besides, this place is sanctioned by the DOD, which I suspect is largely the work of the secretary of biodefense. However, this guy Doctor Gummerman intrigues me. Never heard of him before and I know about all the high-level virologists at Pallas and elsewhere. ”
“What about setting up surveillance around the premises and inside?” said Talia, who was sitting on a leather chair in the corner. “I mean, you already hacked into their systems once to do this security test—why not take another shot?”
“They will have reinforced their firewalls knowing they had a breach, especially if they know someone was in that room with the cadavers. I’ll have to see what our options are with the joint chiefs, who I have a meeting with later. Besides, I need you two and Alpha Team on a flight tomorrow morning to Pakistan. It’s back to runnin’ and gunnin’ on a new mission.”
“Finally, I can get out of this skirt and these god-awful heels,” Talia said, pulling off her footwear and smiling at Travis. “And you can step out of that GQ costume.”
“Yeah, sounds good. I’m almost looking forward to going back to a third-world country,” Travis said, loosening his tie while trying to push the ghastly images of the corpses from his mind.
Chapter 2
Present Day, Monument Valley, Arizona
After departing from the cave by their damaged Blackhawk a day earlier, Travis and his group had trekked on foot for nearly twenty miles before spending a cold night huddled in their sleeping bags beneath a series of rock ledges. The march had taken longer than planned due to the arduous walking in the sand, which hampered their mileage.
The next morning, Travis and Pete led the cross-country trek over the desolate landscape, the cold north wind cutting through them with each step. Behind them were Katy, Nora, Rachel, and Becka, who clung together, exchanging stories about their prior lives that they had already heard countless times. Rob, the former medic, hung back alone in the rear while Dane and Karl plodded along, talking about their interests in vehicles and lightweight aircrafts.
In the late afternoon, with the fading sun redrawing the silhouettes of buttes against the horizon, they arrived at a lone settlement nea
r Monument Valley. They found the traditional homes were long abandoned or burned to the ground—as the Navajo often did when someone died in a dwelling.
The weary group found a single, intact dirt-covered hogan nestled against a cluster of tawny boulders. There they encountered an old Navajo man, who introduced himself as Benito, the sole survivor of his small community. After introductions and a welcome stew of fresh mutton, he welcomed them to stay in a nearby shade shelter. Following dinner, they all quickly collapsed into a deep slumber after their grueling trek in the wintry elements.
***
The next morning, as the red fingers of dawn streaked overhead, Travis pulled himself free from his sleeping bag and stretched. He pulled on his boots and took a swig of icy water from his canteen and then pulled on a brown fleece jacket while walking out from under the crude shade shelter where everyone was still asleep.
He strode across the sand, stepping over a torpid collared lizard, and made his way over to the earth-covered hogan.
“Ya’at’eeh,” said Travis, using the traditional native greeting as he walked up to Benito, who was sitting beside the entrance to his small dwelling. Two tired cattle dogs lying next to the door lightly raised their tails, causing the red sand to kick up a swirl of dust.
“Ya’at’eeh yourself,” said the older man, whose wrinkled skin looked like parched driftwood. “How did you all sleep?”
“Just fine, thanks. I think a bear could’ve come in and sat on me and I wouldn’t have woken.”
“No bears here. I remember seeing one when I was a young man in the Chuska Mountains though. He smelled horrible—like a cowboy after a rodeo.”
Travis sat on the talcum-like sand near the man. “I sure appreciate you taking us in like this and letting us stay here for a few days. We didn’t have much water left and would’ve had a helluva time if we hadn’t run into you.”
“Ah, you’d a been fine,” said the man, rolling his lips. “A man can go a long time without water. Long time.”