by Dirk Patton
I almost followed that up with an explanation of why we’d need to get out of the city as fast as possible at that point, but held my tongue. Mavis had enough to deal with, she didn’t need to be picturing a city full of decaying corpses. Sure, she was going to witness it firsthand in a day or so, but until then I was content to let her be happy that there was an end in sight.
“But what happens to them when they die? The bodies, I mean.”
Damn it. I took a moment to think, trying to come up with a way to answer her question without freaking her out. Before I knew what to say, I turned onto the street that passed in front of Barinov’s building. The rain was still pouring and I couldn’t get a look at the entrance until I had reached the drive. The front doors still stood open, held in place against the wind by a pair of hydraulic rams that controlled their momentum when in motion.
As I slowed to a stop, lightning flashed close overhead, briefly lighting up the gloomy interior. Momentarily frozen in the strobe of electric white light were several females, inside the lobby.
28
Rachel was violently tossed around the cab when it crashed to earth. The truck bounced back in the air, pieces flying free from the savage impact. When it came down again, the broken suspension allowed the front bumper to dig into the ground, causing the rear to rise precipitously as the vehicle threatened to flip over.
There was a pause, the truck nearly vertical on its nose as gravity fought momentum. Slowly, the rear began to fall back, accelerating quickly until it slammed to the ground. The engine shuddered, then died with a protesting scream.
Rachel was conscious, aware of what had happened, but the violence of the collision had stunned her into immobility. She told herself it was time to sit up, find her rifle and get out of the cab, but her body refused to cooperate. For a few seconds, she simply lay across the seat, pieces of glass from the shattered windows covering her.
Trying again, she forced herself to a sitting position, groaning as the connection between brain and body restored and a wave of pain washed over her. She wanted to curl into a ball and hold herself until it eased, but the screams of approaching females reached her ears. With a fresh surge of adrenaline giving her strength, she pushed on the door, but it was jammed tight.
Twisting, she pushed against the female she’d shot whose body had surprisingly remained half in the cab, blocking the passenger door. It was wedged tight and she quickly gave up trying to move it when more screams sounded. Wiggling around, she slithered through the open side window, snagging her leather dress on a length of steel that had been torn from the truck’s body.
For an instant, she dangled in the air, then the thin leather gave way and she dropped to the ground. Ignoring the fresh battering, she stood and snapped the rifle around toward the rise she’d flown off of. Too many females to count were racing down the slope, the closest already on the flat ground of the field.
Taking a steadying breath, she fought. Single, aimed shots, just like John had taught her. Acquire your target, pull the trigger and move on. Don’t panic and start trying to spray bullets all over the place like they do in the movies. She’d had a hard time reconciling that lesson with a lifetime of Hollywood fantasy, but months of fighting for survival had driven it home like nothing else could.
She was making every shot count, but the females were already too close by the time she’d begun shooting. Rachel’s rate of fire picked up as she realized she was about to be overrun. Unfortunately, her marksmanship suffered as she battled to keep the group from reaching her.
Panic was threatening to set in and she briefly considered turning and running, but dismissed the thought immediately. There was no way she could outdistance the infected. They’d run her to ground in short order and rip her to shreds. All she could do was keep fighting.
Dropping an empty magazine out of the rifle, she slapped in a fresh one and raised the weapon to her shoulder. In the few seconds it had taken to reload, a charging female made a mighty leap onto the hood of the truck and launched itself through the air like a missile.
Rachel was able to spin away and avoid its grasp, firing several unaimed, panic shots as the infected tumbled across the field. Miraculously, one of them punched through its head and the body flopped over and lay still. Whipping back to face the oncoming threat, Rachel was tackled to the ground by another leaper.
Screaming with rage, she fought with a frenzy, deflecting the female’s attempts to clamp onto her with its teeth. They rolled away from the truck, locked in battle. The infected screamed, inches from Rachel’s face and she screamed equally as loud, battering its head with the rifle stock.
As hard as she fought, Rachel couldn’t gain an advantage. The female was terrifyingly strong and it was all she could do to maintain a safe distance from the snapping jaws. Still rolling, she tried to pin the infected beneath her and use her body weight to press the rifle across its throat, but with superhuman strength, it threw her off.
She tumbled several more yards away from the truck, coming to her knees and trying to bring the rifle up, but the female was on her in a flash. The rest of the females had reached the Toyota and were racing around it, eager to jump into the fray. Rachel knew they were coming. Knew they were about to overwhelm and kill her, but as long as she was alive, she wasn’t going to give up.
With screams of anticipation, the group raced onto the open ground between Rachel and the truck. She didn’t look up. Didn’t lessen her struggles for an instant. And didn’t understand what the hell was going on when a vehicle roared up, viciously running down the majority of the approaching females. Screaming with effort, she fought, unable to focus on anything other than her opponent.
She heard a door open an instant before the infected twisted and finally succeeded in gaining a death grip on her hair. Her head was forced back, exposing her throat and the female pressed in with a scream of expectation. Twisting, Rachel threw an elbow into its face, battering the hungry mouth away and sending a wave of numbness from her shoulder to her fingertips.
Breaking free, she rolled, forcing herself to stay focused on the female despite the sound of gunfire from where the vehicle had run down most of the others. The infected snapped to her feet, crouching in preparation to continue the attack. Rachel mimicked her pose, ready for the renewed assault, but it never came.
Before the female could leap, Dog slammed into her side with a savage snarl, riding her to the ground. Rachel, unprepared, could only stand and watch as Dog tore into the infected, quickly lunging in and tearing her throat out.
The female lay in the dirt, limbs twitching as life left her body. Dog stood on her, head lowered and teeth bared. Looking to her right, she saw Lucas shoot the last of the group of infected in the head. Exhausted, she collapsed to her knees as Dog trotted to her and pushed against her battered body. Wrapping her arms around his thick neck, she buried her face against him and took deep, shuddering breaths.
“You okay?”
After a long moment, Rachel looked up and smiled at him.
“What took you so damn long?”
“Stopped off for a stubby,” he said, smiling back. “Killing these bitches is thirsty work.”
Stepping forward, he knelt beside her and rubbed Dog’s bloody head.
“Seriously. You hurt?”
“Hurt all over,” Rachel said with a sigh.
Adrenaline was quickly burning off and now came the pain of the battering she’d endured in the truck crash and the wounds from fighting the female.
“I bet,” he said. “Were you in the truck that tried to fly?”
Rachel nodded.
“How’d you find me?” she asked, leaning more of her weight on Dog. He stayed where he was, supporting her.
“Long story. First, let’s check you over and make sure there’s nothing serious, then we’d better get out of here. May be more infected around.”
Rachel nodded and took his offered hand, letting him pull her to her feet. Dog stood, pressed against h
er leg, ears at full mast and nose twitching.
“Where’s all the blood coming from?” Lucas asked, running a flashlight over her.
“Killed a couple of females,” she said, looking down at herself in a daze.
“We need to clean you up. Can’t tell whose blood is whose.”
Holding her hand, he gently led the way to the Rover. Seeing them coming, Natalie jumped out and ran to meet them, stopping with a look of horror when she saw Rachel’s bruised and bloody countenance.
“Oh, my God. Are you alright?”
“She’s good,” Lucas said, sounding completely confident. “Just need to clean her up a bit.”
“Farmhouse on top of the rise,” Rachel said, her strength ebbing. “Might be some males up there, but I think every single damn female followed me.”
She paused, looking around briefly at all the corpses scattered around the Rover. Most had been injured by the initial impact with its push bar. Lucas had shot those that weren’t.
“Let’s take a look,” Lucas said. “Nothing else around, so if they’re cleared out we should be okay long enough to clean you up.”
Rachel nodded, then stumbled as she began to step forward. With a whine, Dog quickly moved in front of her, ready to be a cushion if she fell.
“Think you’ve done enough for a while,” Lucas said softly, bending and scooping her into his arms.
Natalie hurried to open the back door and he laid Rachel across the seat. Dog jumped in, staying on the floor and moving until his chin lay on her shoulder. She raised her hand, rested it on his head and closed her eyes.
29
Admiral Packard paused at the open Humvee door, looking back at the pair of massive transport ships tied to the dock. Beyond, sitting at anchor in the calm waters of Pearl Harbor were five more of the giant ships. A veritable army of personnel were busily reconfiguring the interiors to serve as transport for the population of Hawaii.
Several of the Admiral’s staff had argued that they needed to take as much equipment and supplies as possible to their new home in the Arizona desert, but he had overruled them. Other than some specialized military command and control, or C2, systems, there was nothing they would need that wasn’t freely available on the mainland.
“Captain West, sir,” Captain Black said in a low voice.
The Admiral turned to see a Humvee approaching, his senior and most trusted aide behind the wheel. He pulled to a hard stop and jumped out.
“Sir, the state election board has granted the Governor’s request and updated the schedule,” he said as he joined Packard.
“To what?”
“They have agreed to dispense with the primary and move directly to the general election. All currently declared candidates will be on the ballot. It will be this coming Tuesday. Five days, sir.”
The Admiral considered the news for a moment before looking back at the docked ships.
“I suppose you’re concerned this is bad news for my candidacy,” he said.
“Sir,” West said, then paused and took a calming breath. “The Governor is running unopposed in his own party. You have three challengers who also declared as independents, and there are now five additional candidates in the opposition party to the Governor.”
“So, it’s going to be a free for all,” Packard said.
“In a word, yes, sir. By eliminating the primary vote, which would have resulted in only three candidates in the general election, and with no opposition in his own party, the Governor has successfully diluted the support for every single one of his challengers. You included.”
“And what can be done?” the Admiral asked calmly.
“I have already filed an appeal on behalf of your campaign with the election board, as have most of the other candidates, but it is doubtful we shall prevail. All of the people sitting on the board were appointed by the Governor. Sir, he has all but ensured that he will become President.”
Packard stood silent for a long time, watching a group of workers on the deck of the closest transport ship. Finally, he sighed and turned to Captain West.
“I’ve known you a long time, Captain,” he said. “You didn’t find me to stand there wringing your hands. You’ve got an idea.”
West smiled and looked down at the ground briefly.
“The debates, sir. They’re tonight.”
“I can’t participate, Captain. You’re well aware of that.”
“Yes, sir. I am. But there’s a difference between campaigning and making sure you’re seen by the voters. There won’t be a television or radio in the islands that won’t be tuned in. You need to be there.”
“I’m not following, Captain.”
“Sir, the stage is going to be full of people. The Governor, who is not an impressive figure if I may be honest. And the rest of the candidates? A couple of state congressmen and a Honolulu city council member. The rest are just locals who threw their hats in the ring.
“What I’m suggesting is that you attend the debate. As a spectator. Front row, center, wearing your best Service Dress uniform. Everyone will be looking at you. Reminded of the fact that you’re the reason they’re not dead or living under a Russian boot heel at the moment. And this is not a violation of the prohibition against campaigning.”
The Admiral considered the suggestion for a moment before nodding his head in agreement.
“Captain Black,” he said turning to his chief of security. “Please make the appropriate arrangements.”
After receiving an acknowledgement, he turned back to West.
“Eagle Team?”
“I received a coded signal that they’re on site and beginning.”
“Barinov’s transport?”
“Still in the air, coming up the coast of Baja. Definitely appears the Los Angeles area is his destination. He should be arriving within three hours, sir.”
“Any indication the Russians are aware of the coming blight, or our plans to relocate to Arizona?”
“None so far, sir. It’s business as usual for them. Evacuations from Russia are ongoing and the criteria has not changed. They are only bringing people who meet their narrow definition of pure Russian. The rest are being left to fend for themselves.
“Also, they are bringing in more of their armor and aircraft. In a new development, we have detected scouts at several of our bases on the mainland. It’s unknown at this time if they’re simply cataloging the vehicles and equipment that’s there, or if this is a prelude to them appropriating our gear.”
“Best guess?” Packard asked, concern creasing his face.
“Consensus among the intel working group is this is nothing more than surveying the spoils of war. They can’t imagine they need it, not with us bottled up in Hawaii, so why expend the effort to move it to California?”
The Admiral nodded in agreement with the assessment.
“Very well, Captain. Keep me updated on Eagle Team, regardless of the time. If they’re unsuccessful, we will have no choice other than to directly engage the Russian forces occupying the west coast.”
30
The streets of Sydney weren’t nearly as clogged with abandoned vehicles as I’d expected. Sure, there were a lot, but it was nothing like Atlanta had been, or any other American city I’d ventured into in the first few weeks following the attacks.
Maybe it was because the gas had been released so suddenly and in so many areas of the large city at the same time. Maybe Australians didn’t think like Americans, many of whose first instinct when calamity strikes is to flee the cities. And maybe I’m full of shit and don’t have a clue what the hell I’m talking about.
Mavis stared in wonder at the ghost town outside the Range Rover’s windows. Part of that almost certainly had to be due to the raging storm, but I was more confident that any people still unaffected by the nerve agent were hunkered down behind locked doors.
For that matter, we had yet to encounter large groups of infected. Lots of individuals and pairs, both male and female, but not
hing that concerned me. In most cases, I was able to steer around them. When I couldn’t, the heavy SUV rammed them aside like they weighed nothing.
“Is everyone dead?” Mavis asked as she peered through the rain streaked window.
“No,” I said. “There will be people that made it out of the city and more that were able to lock themselves in and stay hidden.”
She was quiet for several miles, only the sound of the rain and monotonous beat of the wipers breaking the silence.
“Why did the Russians do this? It was the Russians, just like in America. Right?”
“It was the Russians,” I said, pausing in thought before trying to answer the rest of her question. “Why? Beats the fu… beats me.”
“I know the word fuck,” Mavis said, turning to look at me. “You don’t have to treat me like a child.”
I started to remind her that she was a child, then thought better of it. She’d saved my ass in the car park and deserved more respect than that.
“Fine,” I said. “Beats the fuck out of me. But just because you know the word doesn’t mean you should say it.”
“You did.”
I glanced at her, then sighed.
“It’s different.”
“How?” she asked.
“Because… well, it is.”
“Why?” she persisted. “Because you’re old?”
I glared at her a moment before turning my attention back to the road.
“I’m not old,” I said, even though I felt it at the moment.
“Look like it,” she said with the honesty that can only come from a child. “You’ve got wrinkles and no hair.”
Caught by surprise, I glanced at her again, seeing an expression of complete sincerity on her face. Despite myself, I started laughing.
“Tell the truth,” I said. “You didn’t leave the orphanage, the nuns kicked you out. Am I right?”
“Some of them wanted to,” she said, giving me a strange look for having laughed at her comment. “Mother Superior wanted me to be a nun, so they couldn’t do anything.”