Plague Years (Book 3): This Thing of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine

by Rounds, Mark

  “General Antonopoulos here,” said Andy’s voice over the sat phone. “Lassiter kicked this up the chain. You pulled me out a very important meeting Colonel.”

  “Can’t be helped sir,” said Amos holding his ground. “I have here in my hand a report from our sole platoon just north of town. They are completely surrounded and cut off by the Infected. They are also under sustained rifle and automatic weapons fire. As you are aware, we have no perimeter here, just strong points. Unless you have another plan, I am going to have to bring your intel op back home. We need their machine guns and mobility.”

  “Timing sucks,” said Antonopoulos, “you know that, don’t you?”

  “I wish I had more options General, but time is critical. I have dispatched a second platoon to try and backstop the first. The recall is working and my troops are trickling in, but most are on foot and it will be a while before we can have more than separate platoons to engage the enemy. I need something now.”

  “Understood,” said Antonopoulos. “If you recall Tippet, it will take the better part of an hour to get them back, assuming they don’t run into an ambush. I can have some air support over you in ten minutes. The Air package is an MQ-8C. It is carrying Hydra 70 rockets and a napalm canister. Do you have a designator out there?”

  “No sir,” said Amos, “all of our high end comm gear was moved to the Yakima Firing Center prior to the Plague for summer camp, but LT. Johnson is out there with a radio. He can provide FAC support.”

  “It will have to do,” said Antonopoulos. There was a pause, “have him come up on 243 MHz. I assume his radios can use the standard Guard frequency?”

  “Yes sir,” said Amos obviously relieved. “They will be on the air momentarily.”

  “Good hunting Colonel,” said Antonopoulos.

  July 11th, Saturday, 2:31 pm PDT

  On the Sunset Road, south west of Thornton WA

  “You can’t pull the drones right now!” said David Tippet into his sat phone. “That band of infected is in sight. They’re 250 yards out and I need that weapons drone to close the door behind them!”

  “Moscow is under attack, Dave,” said Chad, “It’s not just several bands of Infected. They are backed up by accurate rifle and automatic weapons fire. We think it’s a ruse to pull the pressure off Nergüi.”

  “Damn it!” said Dave fiercely, “it’s working.”

  “Amos wanted to pull your whole patrol in along with the cavalry,” said Chad. “Antonopoulos cut a deal with him to provide him some air support now and keep you out in the field.”

  “I still don’t like it,” said Dave, now calmer.

  “Nobody likes it,” said Chad. “There is a capture team airborne in Blackhawks coming your way. They should be on station within a couple of hours. Antonopoulos wants you to keep up the pressure until they are on site. Then you can withdraw to Moscow to help out there.”

  “Anything else being dispatched to help out?” asked Dave, who already feared the answer.

  “The political situation is highly charged,” said Chad guardedly. “There will be more forces released tomorrow, but right now, that’s all we have.”

  “OK,” said Dave resignedly. “Have the recon drone make several passes to get them moving our way and to bunch them up. My surprises will work better and hopefully save enough ammo so we can still be a threat to Nergüi.”

  “I’ll pass the word,” said Chad. “And I’ll look out for our folks, Heather and all.”

  “Thanks,” said Dave. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a battle to fight.”

  “Give ‘em Hell!” said Chad as he broke the connection.

  Dave turned his attention back to the matter at hand. The drone was already lining up to make a low pass over the band of Infected. With luck, this could still work. Dave needed the Infected bunched up so his claymores could take them out en masse. To do that, he had the mines set up to fire on command. Hopefully they would scatter, then they could be herded into clusters a couple of times before they had to rely on small arms fire.

  Dave had positioned his troops in a flat V formation with orders to fire their weapons perpendicular to the firing line. He didn’t want any blue on blue hits. Dave had placed his claymores in a line ahead of his firing line. At the vertex of the angle, spaced by ten yards, Dave had placed his two machine gun carrying vehicles supported by a section of riflemen. They were going to fire aggressively. Dave hoped the noise and the visual impact of the vehicles would draw the Infected further into the V. The firing line was for the last half of the battle, either, as Dave hoped, for mop up or to help with the extraction if the plan didn’t work. Key to the plan was the napalm canister on the drone. It was going to close the door behind the Infected and bunch them up so the claymores could do their work. Now all they could do was hope the unarmed drone would spook them into the kill zone.

  Dave had no time to ruminate further as the lead members of the mob of Infected closed to within 100 yards of the vertex, spurred on by the drone. Dave had to admit that the drone pilot was good, flying very low and even using rotor wash from the drone to redirect the Infected.

  “Have the drone pilot take the aircraft to a safe altitude,” said Dave to Billie, who had become his sat phone operator, mainly because she was small enough to ride in the middle of the Humvee. When the drone was clear, Dave nodded to the machine gunners who began firing short bursts into the center of the mob. Those that were aware of the gunfire started running at the vehicles. The riflemen supporting the vehicles now began firing at the leading Infected, further increasing their awareness of the machine gun bearing vehicles.

  Dave hoped that the NCO’s on the firing line could keep control of the riflemen under their command. If they started firing too soon, the Infected would split off and attack his troops, spreading out the mob, and making the claymores less effective.

  The Infected weren’t bunched as tight as Dave would have wished, but they were getting close enough that he really wouldn’t blame the riflemen for firing, so he touched off four claymores, two to a side. The edges of the mob were devastated and they bunched even closer together. Seeing an opportunity, Dave immediately set off four more. Many more Infected were killed outright and others were grievously wounded. The mob stalled in the kill zone trying to figure out what to do, and Dave triggered the last four mines, and then signaled the riflemen to open up. What had been a battle became a slaughter as the riflemen concentrated on the most mobile. Perhaps two hundred escaped to the rear.

  “Cease fire!” shouted Dave and shortly, the silence fell like a curtain. “Gather round and redistribute the ammo. I think we probably have enough for one more fire fight.”

  July 11th, Saturday, 2:36 pm PDT

  Swenson’s Barn on the Trunkey Road, Eastern WA

  It looked for all the world like Nergüi was sleeping as he lay in a stack of moldering hay, but his retainers knew better. He was aware of everything that went on and if any of them even looked like he was even thinking about going outside, Nergüi detailed one of followers to beat the miscreant until he saw the error of his ways. So even in the stifling heat, the mercenaries stayed in the tired old barn.

  “The bastards!” shouted Nergüi as he sat bolt upright. “Sven! Get them ready to move!”

  Sven, while able, was not the brightest light in the harbor.

  “It’s daylight!” said Sven in confusion.

  “I know that, you cretin,” said Nergüi snappishly, now under control. “One of the bands of Infected that were protecting our position was destroyed. There is nothing between us and the mobile force that took them out and they know we’re here!”

  Nergüi pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number.

  “Macklin,” came the reply.

  “I need you to come extract me,” said Nergüi.

  “Sir,” said Macklin diplomatically. “I will of course do my best to comply, but I am currently more than a mile from my vehicles and I am engaged in a firefight. There is a drone overhead
and I have reason to believe it’s armed. If I pull out, I will take significant casualties and that drone will then be free to harass you. What do you want me to do?”

  “Keep hitting them hard damn it!” said Nergüi as he broke the connection. He fumed in frustration for a moment. Then the next number he punched in was deliberate.

  “What’s your price?” said a subdued Nergüi when the other party picked up the phone.

  “It’s going to cost you plenty,” said Little Bear.

  July 11th, Saturday, 2:44 pm PDT

  Sunset Road, southwest of Thornton, WA

  “Where’s that damned capture team?” said Dave into the sat phone.

  “They just got airborne,” replied Chad.

  “What are they flying?” asked Dave, “A Chinook, I hope.”

  “No such luck, they are in a pair of Blackhawks,” said Chad. “They are going flat out and plan to land in Spokane after their mission as at the speed they are going, they won’t have enough fuel to RTB.”

  “They’ll each have a combat loaded infantry team and have external stores for support so they won’t break 140 knots on a bet,” said Dave resignedly. “They won’t be here for another hour and half.”

  “That’s about what we figured,” said Chad. “What is your plan?”

  ‘I’m going hunting,” said Dave. “He’s on the move!”

  “Good Hunting!’ said Chad. Dave broke the connection and then looked up at his command.

  “Load ‘em up,” shouted Dave. “We roll in five.”

  Dave watched as people hustled to vehicles. One member of his party was slow, coming from behind the van putting his phone away. He started heading over towards Little Bear but Amber crossed in front on him.”

  “He called you, didn’t he?” said Amber to Little Bear. It was more of a statement than a question.

  “He called me,” said Little Bear.

  “You weren’t going to tell us,” said Amber, “were you.”

  “Not until I could find out what the deal was,” said Little Bear ashamedly.

  “Little Bear,” said Dave who had been listening as he walked up to them, “whatever this war was a year ago, it has drastically changed. Let’s say you make the killer deal with Nergüi and he brings you a semi-truck full of high tech weaponry. What then? He wouldn’t make a move like that unless he had a plan. Maybe the weapons blow up when they are used? Maybe they all have trackers in them so he can find your organization? Your best weapon so far is the fact that he can’t find you. He’s got a plan and he’ll eventually put a knife to your throat!”

  “What else am I supposed to do!?” shouted an agitated Little Bear. “I know he‘ll kill me and hunt my brothers as soon as we are no use to him. That fight is coming. We used to be able to hide in plain sight, but Nergüi has stripped away the cover of the modern world with this pestilence. He is coming and I am all there is between him and my people. Even if we get to him today, whoever his shadowy boss is will just send another and I won’t know him. That one will sneak up on me and take me down. Soon the rest of my people will follow. What else can I do!?”

  “Trust us,” said Amber. “Trust me. The old way is dead. We can’t ever go back to the way it was.”

  “I have seen some intelligence reports you have not,” said Dave. “American Indian reservations have been able to hold out better than most against the Plague. Many are remote, all of them distrust outsiders, and they are all well-armed. It’s made them havens against the disease. Your people will emerge a power as peace asserts itself, if we can beat Nergüi and his colleagues. If not, he will take us down separately.”

  “You say these fine words now,” said Little Bear, “but the white man has done this before you know. How do I know this is any different?”

  “You don’t,” said Dave shaking his head, “I don’t think there are any words I can say to reassure you. But think it through; this may be your only chance and a better chance than if you try to go it alone. I am not gonna lie, there are some bastards who will try and put things back the way they were a year ago. But this can’t go back in the bottle. Too many people have died and too many more will starve this winter if we don’t get a handle on this soon. Here is the only promise I can make. I will not abandon you. Show good faith and I will do the same.”

  There was a long pregnant pause, then Little Bear spoke.

  “He is going to start heading north on foot,” said Little Bear in a subdued voice. “He’s worried that if you have enough firepower to take out a band of Infected bent on doing you harm, you can do the same to his band. He wants transport out. I told him I could have a vehicle in the area in an hour. He said it would have to haul thirty. I said no way, that six was all I could move. He agreed.”

  “So he was going to shoot or abandon twenty five of his troops?” asked Dave, already knowing the answer.

  “That’s what I figured,” said Little Bear. “He’ll have some of his followers with him he’ll keep, but his cannon fodder, he’ll cut off with no remorse. I have seen him do it before.”

  “What was your plan then?” said Dave.

  “I have people moving,” said Little Bear. “Not many, just a dozen or so. We are going to meet up with him at a place of his choosing and take him to where he can get a plane load of weapons and ammo to us.”

  “So you had to wait,” said Dave, “until the plane got to where ever Nergüi could set up an ambush.”

  “I was going to get more warriors paralleling our route, coordinating as I went as soon as I could see where he was going, but yeah, basically, you’re right.”

  “OK, do it,” said Dave with a sly grin.

  “What?” said Little Bear obviously confused.

  “Follow your plan,” said Dave. “You want the weapons, if this works, you get ‘em. I will parallel your route. I can even pick up some of your shooters if you want. I also have an airborne capture team that will be in the area in ninety minutes give or take. Maybe we can surprise him!”

  July 11th, Saturday, 3:01 pm PDT

  Just west of Pullman at the intersection of Washington 270 and US Highway 195 WA

  Patrolman Morgan Lawton was pedaling back down the highway she had come up just moments before. Five minutes of feeling sorry for herself while her friends and comrades we in danger was all she could take before she got mad. She decided she needed to be with her friends defending Pullman. She rounded the corner where Joey had gone down in time to hear a fusillade of small arms fire. She spotted a number of patrolman in positions in the trees and shrubs behind the homes on Summer Fallow Lane.

  Morgan dumped her bike and ran up to where Chief Yates was trying to coordinate a running firefight.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” snapped Yates and he put down his radio.

  “You need help,” said Morgan hotly. “I don’t see many of your monitors around.”

  “A lot of them faded as we moved forward,” said Yates as he calmed down. “They weren’t worth wasting ammunition to shoot them, that’s for sure. Are you sure you are OK?”

  “I need to hit back at them,” said Morgan savagely. “I have most of my load of double-ought buck and two more magazines of .40. I can help you.”

  “You can at that,” said Yate nodding. “Just promise you will stay under control? I can’t afford to lose any more officers.”

  “OK,’ said Morgan as she settled down. “Where do you want me?”

  “Stay close for a bit,” said Yates. “I need to get a handle on who is still out there.”

  “Any word on Joey?” asked Morgan quietly.

  “We haven’t seen him. We heard firing as we ran up but that’s all.”

  “OK,” said Morgan with resignation. She knew in her heart that Joey was gone and she made a pact with herself to take as many of these damned Infected down as she could.

  “There are hundreds of them Chief,” said one young patrolman. “We must have killed fifty of them and they just kept coming!”

  “Calm do
wn, Rice,” said Yates soothingly. “There were half a dozen monitors up there with you. What happened to them?”

  “Those guys?” said Rice with disdain. “They pissed off their ammo and then ran. I didn’t waste any ammo shooting at them like you said.”

  “How is your ammo?” asked Yates.

  “Most of us are down to pistols,” said Rice. “That’s why we headed back this way.”

  “I have a couple of magazines of .556 left,” said Yates. “It looks like we had better start falling back. As soon as the other outpost retreats, we will make a base of fire. When they get back fifty yards or so, then …”

  The rest of Yates’ discussion was lost as a school bus chock full of National Guard soldiers roared up. Yates flagged them down and troops started spilling out. It was none too soon, for the Infected flooded around the bend in the road. The M-60 team set up in front of the bus and began to fire short bursts to take down the leading Infected. There were a couple of grenade blasts and then a rising tide of fire building from the rapidly deploying platoon of guardsmen. Yates’ own troops joined in as they were able, though their ammo was close to spent.

  A very young man followed by an older, though still fit, man sprinted to his location.

  “Chief Yates?” asked the younger man, who, now that he was closer sported the insignia of a First Lieutenant.

  “I am Lieutenant Bergdorf, Idaho National Guard,” said the young man as they shook hands, “and this is my First Sergeant Leo Lewis, We can throw out a base of fire while you fall back to the road over there and then we can bound back.”

  “I appreciate that,” said Yates, “but we have squat all for ammo. I don’t know if we can support your retreat as you fall back.”

  “When you fall back to that location,” said Bergdorf, “you’ll find Spec 4 Larson. He is holding a duffle bag full of STANAG magazines and loose shotgun shells and .556. He also has some .308 as I heard that your snipers use that round. You can resupply as you fall into the new line.”