V Plague (Book 16): Brimstone

by Dirk Patton

  I looked at her for a moment, taking a deep breath.

  “Well, you’re with me now,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “Anyone tries to hurt you, they’ll have to deal with me.”

  She looked at me, seemingly trying to determine if I was telling the truth.

  “You don’t have to worry about those people,” I said, giving her a smile. “They have to worry about me.”

  After another long stretch, she returned my smile and nodded her head. I held her eyes for a beat, then turned and moved the rest of the way to the plywood door.

  Motioning for Mavis to remain quiet as we approached, I clicked the light off and came to a stop with my head close to the opening. Controlling my breathing, I listened carefully. The only sound was the haunting moan of the wind as it found its way into the car park.

  I gave it five minutes, then still hearing nothing, gently swung the plywood aside until there was a narrow gap. The sound of the wind was louder and I could hear water dripping, but nothing to indicate anyone, or anything, was waiting on the other side.

  There was a faint light, barely even detectable and certainly not usable for the naked eye. It had to be filtering down from the entrance above, which meant it was now daytime. Swiveling the goggles into place, they did their job and gave me a good view of the space. Another push on the plywood and I was able to stick my head through the opening for a better survey. We were alone.

  Signaling for Mavis to stay quiet, I stepped through and stood, looking around as I held the board aside. She joined me, gently bumping into my side in the darkness.

  “We’re good,” I mumbled close to her ear. “You know how to get up to the apartments?”

  “Stairs are on the next level up,” she said.

  I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see me.

  “Okay, let’s stay close together. Take my hand. If I let go, it’s because I’ve got to fight. Just stay behind me.”

  She didn’t answer, but her hand fumbled down my left arm and firmly gripped mine. I led us across the concrete floor, pausing at the ramp to the next level for a long look and listen.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked after a couple of minutes.

  “Making sure there’s no one up there,” I answered.

  Ascending the ramp, the howl of the wind steadily grew and water ran past our feet. I paused when my head made it above the level of the floor. To the side, thick, braided steel cables protected the drop off to the ramp and I could clearly see beyond them. Lots of dark cars, sitting quietly. At the far end, past all the vehicles, an elevator. To its side, a steel door.

  “The stairs next to an elevator?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, I can see them. Across the floor and into the stairwell. Quiet as we can.”

  I still hadn’t seen or heard anything to make me think we weren’t alone, but I’d learned not to let my guard down when it came to infected. Too many times I’d seen them stand stock still, just waiting for some unlucky bastard to happen along.

  There was more light on this level, but I was certainly better off with the NVGs than without. Moving slow and quiet, I kept us in the center of the level, rows of parked cars on either side. It didn’t surprise me to find this many vehicles still here. The nerve gas had been released on a weekday evening. A time when most people would be home.

  But that was also presenting me with an even bigger problem. The number of potential infected still in the building. Sure, it was possible they could have survived and simply be hunkered down in fright, but it didn’t seem to have worked that way in any place I’d been.

  Reaching the steel door, I moved Mavis to the side and released her hand. There was no way to know what was waiting for us in the stairwell and I needed to be able to fight if we were attacked. Stepping to the side, I took a deep breath, aimed the rifle with my right hand and reached for the knob with my left. With a quick twist, I released the latch and jerked the door open.

  It was pitch black within the stairwell, rendering the NVGs useless, but I didn’t need to be able to see to hear the excited snarl of a male. If that had been all, I’d have turned the flashlight on and waded in with my knife, but there was an almost instantaneous answering chorus of screams from females. And they weren’t any farther away than the next level.

  Slamming the door, I braced my back against it and turned on the light. Within only a few seconds, hard thumps started up from the other side and the door started to open when one of the infected pushed against the crash bar on the inside that released the latch. Bracing my feet, I shoved it tightly into its jamb.

  “Is there another way out?” I called to Mavis.

  “The gates are all closed! Only way out is the door we came in.”

  For as composed as she’d seemed when I first met her, the fear in her voice was palpable. I didn’t blame her. If I moved away from the door I was holding, a group of females was going to flood into the car park. Looking around, I tried to come up with an idea as the door rattled hard in its frame and muted screams came through the heavy steel.

  “Well, fuck me,” I said.

  22

  “What do we do?” Mavis asked, sounding like she was close to panicking.

  I didn’t blame her. I was pretty damn close to panicking myself.

  “Find something to brace the door!”

  She stood still for a moment, looking around and I realized why she was hesitating.

  “Come here!”

  She ran to where I was and in between grunts of effort from keeping the door closed, I told her how to remove the light from my rifle. It came free and she ran down the rows of cars, searching. I willed her to hurry. Sweat poured off me and my leg muscles were in knots. I had no doubt my strength would fail before the infected gave up. Once that happened, they’d come flooding through.

  It wasn’t long before I was going to have to make a decision. Did I stay where I was, bracing the door for as long as I could and hope they’d lose interest? That wasn’t the best of plans. The other option was to let them come through before it got to the point that my legs were cramping and I couldn’t move to fight.

  “I can’t find anything!” Mavis shouted from the far end of the level.

  “Downstairs,” I yelled back. “All those piles of stuff under the tarps. Find a long board or something!”

  She turned and raced down the stairs as the females slammed into the door with a renewed attack. I was nearly shoved off balance as it came open far enough for several of them to thrust their fingers through the gap. Screaming with effort, I dug in and pushed, momentarily winning the battle, but the door wouldn’t close completely. More than half a dozen hands were trapped between the jamb and its edge, and unfortunately this gave the infected more leverage.

  Grunting and cursing, I pushed harder. Maybe it was only what I wanted to hear, but it sure sounded like the bones in the hands that were trapped began to break. Pushing with every ounce of strength, my back began to slide down the smooth surface of the door, finally stopping with my lower body at a forty-five-degree angle. Occasionally, one of my boots would slip and I’d have to scramble to regain traction before the constant push against the door overwhelmed me.

  “Nothing!” Mavis shouted as she rounded the top of the ramp. “Just paint cans and stuff like that!”

  Making my decision, I took a deep breath and shouted back at her.

  “Go hide in the tunnel!”

  “What? Why?”

  “I’m going to have to fight them,” I said. “I can’t protect you!”

  She stared at me, not moving.

  “Mavis, GO!” I bellowed.

  She still didn’t move, just stood there looking around at the cars. Suddenly, she sprinted forward to the closest one and tried the door. It was locked and she moved on at a run.

  “Mavis, get out of here! NOW!”

  I was losing the battle. The door was beginning to inch its way open as the strength in my legs ebbed.

  She ignor
ed me and ran to another car. This one was a small Fiat convertible with the top down. I was opening my mouth to scream at her again, but at that instant, my right boot slipped and I almost went down. Catching myself, I had to turn to the side, slamming my shoulder into the door near the knob to prevent it from flying open.

  But I’d given too much ground. When I slipped, the females made another push and two of them got arms through the gap, nearly to their shoulders. Now, even with them pinned between the door and jamb, they were flailing around, trying to reach me. Time to fight.

  “Mavis, RUN!” I screamed as I prepared to release the pressure on the door.

  “MOVE!” she screamed, an instant before the blare of a car horn.

  If I’d taken even a moment to look, I’d have died on the spot. I can’t tell you why I didn’t glance over my shoulder, but I rolled clear the instant I heard her voice. The door began to fly open and I caught a brief glimpse of a stairwell packed with infected, their screams suddenly loud without the heavy steel separating us.

  That’s all I got. That one fraction of a second, then something flashed within inches of me and struck the door with a rending crash, slamming it closed with enough force to vibrate the concrete floor and amputate several of the females’ hands and arms. It was the Fiat, with Mavis behind the wheel.

  Panting like I’d just run a sprint, I stood there, stunned. Stared at the small car as my brain tried to catch up with what had happened. One instant, I’m fighting for my life, prepared to face a screaming mass of infected, then the next it’s all over. It takes a few seconds for the mind to realize you’re not going to die after all.

  Looking at Mavis, she smiled at me and climbed over the Fiat’s door when it wouldn’t open. She stood there expectantly and without thinking, I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a big hug, lifting her off the ground. Her small arms went around my neck and we held each other for a few moments.

  When I put her down, she took my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Looking at her, I frowned.

  “Gimme that,” I said, taking the flashlight and shining it on her face. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I think I hit my head on the steering wheel when it crashed,” she said, reaching up to touch the wound.

  I grabbed her wrist, stopping her. It wasn’t a bad cut, especially by my standards, but it had been an automatic response.

  “Don’t touch it. Your hands still have mud on them from the tunnel. Hold on…”

  I reached beneath my vest and tore a strip of clean fabric off my shirt. Wrapping it around her head, I tied it off and surveyed my handiwork. It wasn’t pretty, but it covered her wound, applying pressure and protecting it.

  “How’d you get the car started?” I asked.

  “Didn’t. Just put it in neutral, took the brake off and gave it a little push. The slope did the rest. Kinda got away from me. Thought I was going to crush you.”

  I looked into the car, noting the manual gear shift. The Fiat was a classic roadster from the 70s, which explained why she’d been able to steer without the key to unlock the wheel. Mavis knew a lot for a little girl, or had gotten very lucky. Either was fine with me at the moment.

  “You did good, kiddo,” I said. “Thank you.”

  She shrugged, but I could tell she was proud that she’d saved the day. And she had every right to be.

  “What now?” she asked a few moments later.

  “Guess we’re not gonna hide in a nice, dry apartment,” I said, looking at the door with the Fiat’s front bumper crushed against it. “Let’s go up to ground level and check things out.”

  She stayed close by my side as we climbed the ramp. I brought us to a stop as soon as I had a view of the closed gate. It was like a rolling door, only not solid. More some kind of steel mesh that we could see through. There weren’t any infected in sight, but we got our first good look at the fury of the storm.

  The wind howled like a banshee and rain was coming by the bucketful. Trees were down, debris was everywhere and the street was flooded. Water was over the curb, a steady stream of it running down the slight slope into the car park.

  “This kind of storm normal for Sydney?” I asked.

  “Not like this,” Mavis said. “We get storms, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  I glanced down, seeing that she was transfixed by the scene on the other side of the gate. Looking at her reminded me that she was only twelve years old. She hadn’t been around long enough to know if this was something the city dealt with on a regular basis. But that didn’t really matter.

  This was obviously more than a summer thunderstorm. Even a severe one. This kind of weather only came from the ocean. So, was this just a tropical storm, or was there still a typhoon barreling toward us? I didn’t know the answer, nor any way to find out, so I decided our best bet was to just stay put. That was also the right thing to do while waiting for the infected to die.

  “We’re going to stay,” I said to Mavis. “At least until the storm passes.”

  “But the tunnel’s flooding,” she said, looking up at me.

  “Let’s find a car we can sit in,” I said, looking around. “Any idea which one belongs to the woman that threw garbage at you?”

  A grin slowly spread across her face and she pointed down the ramp to the level with the crashed Fiat. I smiled back, took her hand and headed down.

  23

  Titus was sleeping soundly when Martinez came out of the bedroom. He snorted awake when the door opened, looking around and staring at her. She was scrubbed clean, her thick hair pulled back and wearing an oversized, fluffy robe. He didn’t say anything as she looked around, surprised to see that the bunker had been cleaned.

  “Something wrong?” she asked when he kept staring at her.

  He was quiet for another long stretch and she realized he was looking at the robe.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “My clothes were trashed and I found this in the closet. That okay?”

  He nodded and looked away before answering.

  “Belonged to my missus,” he said. “She was a kind soul, so I figure she’d be pleased to help ya out.”

  Martinez slowly came forward, easing into a seat at the table.

  “Thank you for everything,” she said. “I think you may have saved my life.”

  Titus shrugged, then looked up at her.

  “Found somethin’ while ya was sleepin’. Thought ya might wanna see.”

  He stood stiffly and waved for her to follow, leading the way into the surveillance room. She stood in the door, looking around in amazement.

  “How?” she asked.

  “Son-in-law was Air Force,” he said as if that explained the elaborate bunker and surveillance system.

  Sitting at the control station, he pressed a key that brought a monitor to life. On the screen, multiple graphs and radio signal meters were displayed.

  “Said ya was Air Force,” he said, peering at the screen. “Son-in-law showed this to me, but I cain’t make heads nor tails of it. Computer thinks it’s somethin’, though.”

  Martinez moved forward, eyes on the screen.

  “It’s a triangulation system for finding the source of a radio transmission,” she said. “He must’ve been Air Force. This is military grade software, not available to the public.”

  “That sounds like what he said. What the hell’s it mean?”

  “It means there’s someone out there operating a transmitter,” Martinez said.

  “Probably the goddamn Rooskies!”

  “Don’t think so,” Martinez said. “This is a civilian AM radio band. No reason for the Russian military to use it. They’ve got much better stuff.”

  “So, more people survived?”

  “Maybe,” she said, moving to stand next to the control station. “May I?”

  “If’n ya knows what your doin’, help yourself,” Titus said, moving out of the way.

  Martinez slipped into the chair and started working on the k
eyboard. Titus watched closely as she moved through multiple screens, then jumped slightly when a burst of static came out of the computer’s speaker.

  “Didn’t know it’d do that,” he said softly as a woman’s voice began speaking.

  “All units report at designated times. All sectors confirmed clear of infected. Unit commanders report for briefing as scheduled. This message will repeat.”

  “You’ve never heard this before?” Martinez asked, looking up at Titus.

  He shook his head.

  “Like I done said, missy, didn’t know it could even do that.”

  The message repeated, Martinez listening closely.

  “It’s live,” she said excitedly. “That’s not a tape playing in a loop. She emphasized different words this time! And you haven’t seen or heard from any other survivors?”

  Titus shook his head again.

  “After the Major left, them Russians took off pretty quick. Few days later, some Army guys showed up, tryin’ ta talk me into leavin’ with ‘em. I sent ‘em packin’.”

  “Why didn’t you go?”

  “This here’s my home,” he said with a finality that was unmistakable.

  Martinez nodded, then set to work on the computer. It had been a long time since she’d trained on the software, so there were a lot of false starts, but she finally got it to do what she wanted. A new window opened on the screen, displaying a map of the western United States. In southwestern Utah, a blue dot appeared, adjusting slightly as the system achieved an improved location of the signal source.

  “That’s where they are,” she said excitedly.

  “Long ways,” Titus said, leaning in and looking at the map.

  “Four hundred and nine miles.” Martinez pointed at a data field on the screen.

  “More likely six hunnert in a car,” Titus said. “Ain’t no straight line betwixt here an there.”

  Martinez looked up at him and smiled, started to say something but kept her mouth shut. Titus looked at her for a long moment before nodding and leaving the room. She heard the refrigerator open and close, then the click and hiss of a beer can being opened. Getting to her feet, she went out to find him in his recliner with a drink in hand.