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

by Rounds, Mark

  July 15th, Wednesday, 6:14 pm PDT

  The Providence Medical Research Center, Spokane WA

  Once inside, Little Bear found an abandoned office and quickly picked the lock with his Killer Key Kwikset that had master keys for most institutional locks. Then he sat and listened. There was a lot of shouting. He could recognize Macklin’s voice and there were others. He couldn’t make out the words but he was clearly agitated and trying to get things out of the building.

  “Time to go to work,” thought Little Bear as he crept up to the door and opened it a crack. There were people running up and down the hall. One of Macklin’s guards came running by with three boxes obscuring his vision. He was struggling to keep his rifle from hitting the floor while he carried his load. It was the work of a second for Little Bear to snake a foot out and trip him. The resounding crash confirmed that the boxes contained glassware. While the poor unfortunate tried to collect his wits, Little Bear slipped out of the office and down the hall. He just barely made a corner in time to not be seen by Macklin who stormed by in high dudgeon.

  Little Bear waited a few minutes and then snuck up to the door of Bob Strickland’s new lab and peered through the glass. Dr. Strickland was in there alright directing the hurried packing of his lab. All the people present appeared to be lab types, not Macklin’s mercenaries so Little Bear took the risk and entered the room.

  “Who are you?” asked Bob warily, taking in Little Bear’s rough clothing, old fashioned hat, and modern knap sack.

  “Your brother sent me,” said Little Bear. “He said to tell you he’s sorry for spying on you and Jennifer.”

  “He would remember that incident,” said Bob momentarily smiling, “to use to identify himself. OK, what’s the message?”

  “We’ve got a rescue in the works,” said Little Bear. “You should be ready to move tonight.”

  “We may not be here,” said Bob. “Macklin wants us out of here as soon as possible. It seems there are people coming that he’s worrying about.”

  “I know,” said Little Bear. “That’s a diversion; look, is there anywhere a little more private for us to talk? I don’t exactly blend in here.”

  “I’m getting careless,” said Bob indicating a door in the back of the lab, “let’s adjourn to the store room.”

  “The good guys are coming around midnight,” said Little Bear after the door was closed.

  “Even with my best stalling,” said Bob rubbing his eyes, “they will probably have us out of here long before that. Six hours is far too long for that kind of song and dance. Can you ask that they come sooner?”

  “Ask them yourself,” said Little Bear who pulled out the sat phone from his back pack.

  “What is that?” said Bob dubiously.

  “Damned if I know,” said Little Bear, “but the white soldiers answer when you talk on it. Pick up the headset and say, ‘Rubber Chicken’ into it.”

  “Only Chad would do something like that to me,” said Bob rolling his eyes. Then he put the head set on and when Little Bear turned it on and nodded spoke into the microphone.

  “Rubber … Chicken,” said Bob somewhat distastefully.

  “This is Captain Nixon,” said the voice on the other end. “Identify yourself please.”

  “I’m Dr. Robert Strickland,” said Bob uncertainly, then he rushed into it. “The rescue attempt you’re planning will fail unless if comes sooner. Macklin is trying to evacuate us now.”

  “Hold one,” said Nixon.

  There was a pause of about two minutes and then a familiar voice spoke.

  “Hi Bob,” said Chad. “It’s good to hear your voice. We need to understand the situation before we make changes to the operation. What is your situation exactly?”

  “Macklin is spooked by something happening out on the highway,” said Bob. “He is pushing to move us somewhere. He is not saying where. He wants us out of here in an hour. I am stalling, but I can only do that for a couple of hours at most. If they take us out of here, they will scatter the team that I have gathered here and someone is likely to talk. They will likely tell them about the rescue and the fact that we have been very successful developing a new and very effective palliative treatment for the Plague, despite our attempts to slow down the process. I appreciate the effort, but unless we can get rescued in under two hours, we will likely be unmasked and Macklin has threatened death and worse if we tried to pull a fast one on him.”

  “It will still be light then” said another voice. “I’m Colonel Phillips. The troops involved in the rescue are from my unit. Things will be safer for all concerned if it’s dark when we show up. I understand there is an … individual who brought you this sat phone. Can you put him on please?”

  “What’s the plan?” asked Little Bear after he took the headset.

  “This is Captain Strickland here with a task group to help. We have Colonel Phillips who commands the rescue troops. We have Major Tippet who you know and Captain Lassiter who you have been in contact with and who is in charge of human intelligence gathering for the Washington Military district. Is there anything you can do to slow down the departure without endangering my brother and his team?”

  “I have four riflemen outside who are going to start shooting,” said Little Bear, “if Macklin’s lackeys start loading any vehicles. But that won’t hold up for long as they have a lot of shooters and my warriors are short on ammunition. I am going to create some mischief to slow them down, but if I do too much, Macklin might get frustrated and start killing people.”

  “Can you keep things under control,” said Colonel Phillips, “until after sunset?”

  “That will be what,” said Little Bear checking his watch. “two, two and a half hours from now? I think so. Tell whatever you have coming in that there will be riflemen around the perimeter who are mine so don’t shoot ‘em. I will be inside. Taking out Macklin would slow them down a great deal, but are there other factors I need to worry about?”

  “Why are you asking?” said Dave. “I figure, if you thought he needed shooting, you’d do it without asking.”

  “He is probably about to be cut off from the organization if he hasn’t been already,” said Little Bear. “If Nergüi gives up on Macklin, he will be desperate. He will also be useless as a source of information. So, while killing Macklin would be easy right now, it might not be the best thing for either faction.”

  “Damn it,” said Lassiter displaying some of his famous temper. “He is the only link we have to the higher echelon of this organization. Is there any way we can keep Nergüi in play longer?”

  “I figured you’d be asking that question,” said Little Bear. “The drugs keep him under control, but if you keep him too drugged up for too long, he’ll lose control and stop supporting Macklin. If you let him come too close to consciousness, he will be trouble.”

  “We’ve had an incident with him before,” said Lassiter. “He almost overpowered Amber when we tried to interrogate him.”

  “She will be able to stand up to Nergüi,” said Little Bear, “if she has time and someone to show her how.”

  “Can you do it?” said Lassiter, “train her I mean?”

  “If I could,” said Little Bear ruefully, “he would be dead and the Indian Movement would own the west. He is old and powerful.”

  “Do you know anyone who could control him?” said Lassiter.

  “I do,” said Little Bear, “but she is not ready to reveal herself yet. It will take time.”

  “Which we don’t have,” said Chad. “We should reduce his medication some but we will have to watch him.”

  “We’ll cut down on the meds,” said Lassiter thoughtfully. “I’ll get my med team on it.”

  “He is resourceful, ‘said Little Bear. “If you let him live, he will eventually get away. But I agree, we need the link. I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were up against and what the options were.

  “However, we need to focus on the rescue. I will not take him out if I can pos
sibly avoid it. You need to get your troops here as soon as you can after sunset or this will all come unglued and I’ll start shooting.”

  July 15th, Wednesday, 6:47 pm PDT

  On US Highway 2, near the intersection with I-90, Spokane WA

  The Air Force column had been moving slowly, partially due to some sporadic sniping from the various dwellings near the roads and partially due to the cars that had been pushed out to block the road. Many had been abandoned when they ran out of fuel early in the crisis as their previous owners tried to take refuge at Fairchild Air Force Base. However, some of them looked recently moved into the roadway, and two had been mined.

  “ARRGGH!” screamed Jen as they rounded the corner and saw yet another pickup pushed out into the road. Then she gathered her wits and selected the proper channel on her radio and spoke again.

  “Morton,” said Jen in a calmer voice, “does that pickup look mined?”

  “I can’t tell ma’am,” said Morton. “I’ll put a man on the M-60 and then lead the rest of my team out to check.”

  “Hold one while we get some support in place,” said Jen.

  In a couple of minutes, the other Humvees formed a rough skirmish line.

  “Go ahead Morton,” said Jen “we’ll cover you.”

  Morton led, followed by the remaining members of his team spread out in a rough V. They got to within fifty feet of the truck and then were brought under fire by several automatic weapons. Two members of the team went down almost immediately while Morton went prone on the roadway and began returning fire.

  “Suppressive fire!” shouted Jen from outside her Humvee, but the vehicle mounted weapons had already begun to beat up the bushes where the fire was coming from. The ready squad from the semi deployed and added their fire.

  Morton, who had been struggling to reload his weapon lost control of his M-4 as hostile fire hit both the weapon and Morton’s forearm. In obvious pain, Morton rolled to the left, across his injured arm to free his M-9 and with his uninjured arm, he continued to return fire.

  “This isn’t gonna work!” said Stuzman into the radio. “We’re going in for a pickup.”

  “Who’s we?” said Sergeant Finkbiner over the radio, but Jen had already given the driver the order to move forward. The Humvee covered the intervening ground in just a few seconds. The driver turned the vehicle to provide as much of a shield as possible from the incoming fire. The M-60 gunner in the top of the vehicle started firing his weapon with little regard to barrel life as Jen exited the vehicle.

  Just as she bent over to check on Morton, the Ford pickup detonated in a spectacular fashion, with various fire blackened auto parts scattered in all directions. Only Jen’s bent over posture and the door of the Humvee saved her from serious injury. The top gunner was not so lucky with several pieces of shrapnel imbedded in her armor and in her cheek.

  Two other vehicles rushed up to provide security and the combined withering fire from all the vehicles finally silenced the resistance. Finkbiner, who had transferred to one of the Humvees when he heard the blast was first out of the truck. Jen was struggling with Airman Morton, trying to drag him the relative safety of the Humvee.

  “Are you ok, Ma’am?” asked an alarmed Finkbiner who saw blood on several parts of Jen’s uniform.

  “Help me with Morton,” said Jen ignoring the blood.

  Between the two of them, they manhandled Morton into the back of the Humvee. The flight’s medic started looking him over and applying pressure bandages to the worst of the wounds. It was only then that Jen looked back at her own vehicle. The blast resistant windshield was covered with a spider web of cracks. Here and there, larger truck parts pierced the glass. What looked to be a door handle was embedded in the seat the Jen had just occupied. Both front tires were shredded and there was coolant all over the road. Jen slumped in shock.

  “Ma’am!” said Finkbiner more forcefully while he grabbed her arm. “Are you ok?”

  “What?” said Jen looking down at her own uniform, noting that it was covered in blood. “This mainly belongs to Morton. Morton? How is ….”

  “Morton will be ok,” said Finkbiner using a more soothing voice. “Doc Cruz is working on him. How are you?”

  “Shook up,” said Jen, “and I think I got a piece of something imbedded in my armor that’s poking me something fierce.”

  “Form a hasty defense!” shouted Finkbiner to the clustering troops. “Come on! You know the drill. There could be more of them out there!”

  The troops snapped-to and quickly laid out a hasty perimeter. The other flight medic went forward to help the other two casualties. Doc Cruz finished doing initial first aid for Airman Morton and moved over to check out Stutesman. They stripped off her body armor and found that a jagged piece of the pickup had just barely penetrated her armor, leaving a shallow wound and completely compromised the side plate on her body armor.

  “I will never complain about the weight of that body armor again,” said Jen as she examined the plate. Then she got down to business pointing to the crater where the pickup truck used to be. “It looks like the obstruction is gone. We need to get moving. How is Morton?”

  “He is conscious and stable,” said Doc Cruz. “I’d feel better if we could get a dust off for him though.”

  “Right,” said Jen, reaching back into her vehicle for the radio. As she glanced back her driver, who was also slightly wounded, pointed at the dash.

  “Sorry Ma’am,” said the Airman. “The radio and most of the engine is trashed. Better go find another radio.”

  “There’s one in this vehicle,” said Finkbiner helping her to the Humvee that he had commandeered.

  “Red Rover base,” said Jen as she pulled the remains of her body armor back on. “This is Red Rover Two Seven, request medivac for at least two stretcher cases. We have several others down with condition unknown. One vehicle is non-operable.”

  “Red Rover Two Seven this is Red Rover One,” crackled the voice of the speaker. “We’ll be able to accommodate you. The resupply plane landed. Do you need reinforcement? I have a platoon of Rangers here chomping at the bit. I can reinforce your group with two squads of Rangers. You’ll still be in command.”

  “Sir,” said Jen pausing to frame her response. “We could use the help as we are probably down a squad, but we are short of transport. They would have to ride in the semi.”

  “Roger that,” said Red Rover One who was actually Colonel Phillips. “I suspect they can rough it if they have to. I have some other news for you. We need to step up your timetable. The target is trying to get mobile. We need to push up your time on station at least two hours. More if you can manage it. I know you just got hit, but we need you to move now.”

  “Rodger that,” said Jen shaking her head. “We will be mobile as soon as your chopper leaves. Tell me, are those Rangers packing explosives? Also send a bunch of HE 40mm grenades if you have them.”

  “We can get some demo kits and grenades on board pretty quickly,” said Red Rover One. “Why the sudden need?”

  “We just got toasted because a vehicle was blocking the road,” said Jen. “From here on out, we are just going to blow them up and keep on trucking!”

  Chapter 14

  .

  July 15th, Wednesday, 7:17 pm PDT

  Madigan Medical Center, Joint Base Fort Lewis-McChord, Tacoma WA

  “We are going to back off on the subject’s dosage,” said the on-call doctor, “The orders from Captain Lassiter were that we were to keep him under control but that we needed to lighten up on the dosage. Too much and it will apparently mess up some other intel asset.”

  “Three will get you ten that it’s Macklin,” said Chris.

  “No bet,” said Amber smiling. “OK, Chris and I will stay on watch here with the MP’s so we don’t get a repetition of what happened last time.”

  “About that,” said Chris, “The deadman switch almost didn’t do the job and he scared the crap out of me. What’s different this time?�
��

  “It’s a bit of a problem,” said Amber. “I have had a talk with the physics grad students who suggested that what we are witnessing is actually quantum mechanics. They say that some folks at MIT showed that particles can be in something called superposition.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Chris.

  “They tried several times to explain it,” said Amber, “and then gave up and said that particles, and hence apparently, the influences they can provide are in two places at once. Then it got goofy.”

  “Then?” asked Chris

  “Yeah,” said Amber. “The high points that I gleaned from the conversation are that there is no shielding that works, transmission of whatever they project is instantaneous, and apparently there is no range limit once established.”

  “So, what can we do?” asked Chris. “Sounds like magic to me.”

  “Me too,” said Amber, “but there is a ray of hope here. It’s apparently dependent on the sender or controller or whatever. They need a target. So we are going to isolate his room. No lights, and no physical presence. We are going to keep him slightly conscious for a day or two while they sort out Macklin and then back into a drug coma he goes.”

  “I sure hope it works,” said Chris.

  “Me too,” said Amber.

  July 15th, Wednesday, 7:42 pm PDT

  On US Highway 2, near the intersection with I-90, Spokane WA

  “Sergeant First Class Jameson at your service ma’am,” said a man who appeared to be too young to be an NCO, let alone an E6. Jen had just watched two squads of Rangers fast rope out of the UH1’s that then settled down behind the semi to pick up casualties.

  “Glad to have you aboard,” said Jen.

  “Thank you ma’am,” said Jameson. “I am under your orders. I was briefed that this was still your mission.”

  “Thank you Sergeant,” said Jen gratefully. “I would still appreciate any tactical insights you may have.”