by JT Sawyer
“The sat imagery of the location for this guy shows a heat signature, so he must be there—or someone else has taken up residence there,” said Porter.
Reisner swiveled around in his seat then leaned forward. “Just remember the briefing back on the Reagan—this guy is a former spook and a paranoid son of a bitch at that. He’s probably got perimeter alarms, motion-activated cameras, and who knows what else. Treat the approach to his residence like we’re walking into a Taliban trap, and be prepared for resistance. At least until I can talk to him.”
Reisner removed the black-and-white satellite surveillance photographs from his backpack that McKenzie’s intel staff had provided. He pulled out the image for the airstrip. “Just for review, it looks like there’s a fuel tanker near the back end of this hangar,” he said, tapping the corner of the picture. “Porter, help get the plane refueled; Connelly, you provide cover. Nash and I will head to the employee parking area and see about procuring one of the vehicles.” He slid another photo over the top, this one showing the topography of the surrounding countryside. “If all goes well, we’ll be on our way, heading east for eight clicks before veering off on this dirt road. After that, it’s three clicks north and then we’re on foot for a half-click as we buttonhook in to Andre’s cabin.” He looked up into each operator’s eyes. “Any questions or comments.”
“I’m guessing this nerd is probably a Heineken guy, so I call dibs on the beer in his cooler,” said Porter.
“One brew in you and the role of driver is out,” said Connelly.
Porter frowned, punching her lightly in the arm. “Pff—at least I’m old enough to drink.”
“Old is for sure. Sounds like a creaky door just opened when you bend your knees.”
“I can still outrun you any day.”
“Runnin’ away seems like your style.”
Reisner chuckled, wondering what had caused the sudden playful banter between the two when Connelly was normally so reserved. Maybe she was just opening up more after what they had been through. With Porter’s rough-and-tumble personality and his fleeting relationships with women, he hardly seemed the type to interest Connelly. Maybe she finally realized nothing was ever going to happen between us.
Nash got up and moved next to Reisner, sitting on his left, away from the others. “So, who exactly is this guy Andre again that we’re paying a visit to? I know he’s a cyber-security expert and had a connection to the Agency, but who is he really?”
Reisner gave his friend a sideways glance then leaned his head back against the seat. “He used to be on Runa’s team when I first started. He came up from the intel side and handled all of the usual shadow work behind the scenes when we were on missions—helping us to bypass security systems, breach computer firewalls, and forge digital identities for our team in addition to providing the usual background on our intended targets.”
“OK.” Nash let the word drag out. “Sounds like pretty standard stuff so far.”
“Yeah, except he was running point on intel and logistics on the mission in Belarus.” Reisner abruptly stopped and gave Nash a hard stare, knowing he had probably heard the story from Runa. Andre had failed to eliminate the border security cameras along their evasion route near Poland, which resulted in Reisner’s team getting into a firefight with the Belarus Secret Police. By the time it was over, one of Reisner’s agents, Mira Grant, was dead, along with the asset. The whole mission was for nothing. It was more than a professional catastrophe, as Grant and Reisner had been personally involved for nearly a year. Reisner was even going to see to it that she was transferred off of his team, but his request came one mission too late. He was devastated, and blamed the catastrophe on Pacelle, whose alcohol addiction he believed played a part, though he knew it was also a blend of corrupt politicians on both sides and faulty information. For Reisner, he saw Pacelle as the focal point for his anguish, and nursed a grudge which hadn’t diminished much over the years.
Reisner balled his fist and tapped it against the seat as he tried to push back the memories of that grim day. His four-month leave of absence from the Agency and time spent with his sister were the only things that prevented his sanity from slipping away. He always wished he could have divulged the nature of his grief to Jody, and he hated having to fabricate another lie to explain his undertakings and considerable misery.
“So are we going to extract this guy or put a bullet in his skull?”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good order of events to me.” Reisner leaned forward, interlacing his fingers. “Andre was a brilliant analyst, but he was getting too jaded towards the end and started drinking and making mistakes—mistakes that cost lives. Siegel canned his ass and then he went off the grid, becoming a freelancer for allied nations and software firms. I saw him from a distance at INTERPOL conferences and special operations expos every now and then, where he was trying to recruit new clients, so I knew he was still in the game.”
“And you really think he’ll come back willingly to the Reagan?”
He looked around at the others. “There’s four of us, so we can take turns dragging him if his knees suddenly stop working.” He rubbed the back of his neck and twisted his head. “Look, Andre’s only interest in life is what happens between him and his computer screen. Once he finds out the Chinese were most likely involved in a cyber-attack on our country’s grid, he’ll come around. He lives for these cerebral chess games.”
“Any luck tracking down the other ghost ships Runa and Siegel mentioned?”
Reisner shook his head. “I couldn’t access the secure files at Langley from McKenzie’s computer. It looks like they’re still intact as the password prompt showed up; I’m hoping Pacelle can help.”
With another announcement from Jackson about their imminent landing, he turned around and settled back into his seat. He thought of his last encounter with Selene on the landing deck before the plane departed. Though he’d only known her for a short time, he found it hard to leave her. She was unconnected with any of the murky undertakings related to the Agency—at least until this pandemic—and he found her looks and quiet confidence alluring. He felt he could trust her and knew she was driven by a deep passion to better people’s lives through her research and former humanitarian work. She was a far cry from the people he had interacted with on a regular basis at Langley, whose agendas always seemed like the shifting sands of a windswept desert. He smirked, wondering why he was having such thoughts at a time when the world was so bleak, then looked around at his team and knew that his immediate tribe and those he cared about were the only force keeping him going right now. He needed to protect them and forge ahead until such a time when he could get back to Virginia and locate his sister Jody. God, I hope you’re still out there, sis. Just hang on. I have to see this through and then I’ll figure out how to get back to you, wherever you’re at.
He glanced out the window and saw a lone creature sitting atop a small water tower near the edge of Eureka. Reisner craned his head and watched it shoot upright as the plane passed over. What the fuck was that about? Was that a scout of some kind?
The plane hit an air pocket, jarring him back. He grabbed his AR and draped the one-point sling over his shoulder, then rested the rifle on his lap, wondering what they had in store.
A few minutes later, the plane screeched along the narrow tarmac and slowed as the pilot circled it around towards the fuel depot. Reisner was already unbuckled and waiting by the side entrance when the plane came to a stop. With the engine idling, he couldn’t hear anything, and knew they needed eyes out on the runway. He extended the telescopic stairs and quickly climbed down, then moved under the cockpit as the rest of his team disembarked and went to their designated positions.
Once Porter had picked the lock on the fuel tanker and activated the pump, Reisner trotted over to the side of the hangar and joined Nash, who was already visually assessing the eight vehicles in the employee lot. Nash used the butt of his rifle to smash in the driver’s window on a four-door Dodge truck,
then slipped inside, hunching under the dashboard. A few seconds later, the engine turned over and he climbed inside and put the gear in reverse.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered as Reisner climbed in the other side. Nash abruptly put on the brake as he stared in the rearview mirror at a dozen creatures pouring out of the woods across the runway.
Chapter 11
Two dozen creatures began trotting across the tarmac, moving in staggered rows. Reisner heard a familiar but unpleasant shrill sound filling the crisp night air. The noise always filled him with dread, and he knew it meant bullets were about to fly downrange.
“I thought the last satellite images showed no paras in this region?” said Nash.
“Something tells me that the creature I saw on the water tower wasn’t just searching for live meat in the town below. He must’ve been a lookout.”
“Why couldn’t they just be mindless zombies like in the movies? They’d be a helluva lot easier to evade.”
“We gotta get everyone out of here—no way the pilots can stay now. We’ll have to refuel later, assuming we can clear out the creatures.”
As Nash backed up the truck alongside the plane, Reisner hopped out and trotted up the steps of the plane. He yelled inside for Jackson and the co-pilot, Higgins, then grabbed the remaining packs off the seat. Reisner heard the truck horn blaring, and by the time he returned to the steps, there were close to fifty creatures moving in from the edge of the woods. They formed themselves into a half-arc that moved like a slow wave over the runway. Reisner could see two paras in the distance, who stood at the treeline, their mouths agape as a higher-pitched noise emanated from their throats.
Jackson followed on his heels to the truck as Porter, Connelly, and Higgins joined them. Reisner climbed into the bed with his AR and a pack full of magazines, barking back at Porter and Connelly to join him.
The first row of creatures was approaching the hundred-yard mark, and Reisner knew they were getting into place for a more orchestrated assault.
“We’re good, now get us out of here,” he yelled back at Nash, who began turning to the left and peeling away from the plane. Reisner raised his AR and plucked off the first two creatures, which had just broken into a sprint. The collapse of their bodies did little to deter the others, which began moving like a ravenous school of piranhas, converging in a river of movement.
Nash swung hard to the left, causing Reisner and the others to slam into the side of the truck bed and halt their shooting.
There were at least a hundred creatures following behind them, their gait changing to an all-out sprint. With only sixty yards between them, Reisner and Porter began selectively culling the herd. Reisner dropped two creatures that bolted ahead of the rest, their heads blowing apart while their bodies flailed along the tarmac. Six more rushed in, bounding over the splayed corpses. Connelly and Porter began methodically shooting, killing one batch as another one instantly ran forward to replace the fallen.
Another swerve in the road and they entered a narrow two-lane highway, which allowed Nash to increase his speed. The menacing horde became a choked river of movement, with the creatures toppling over each other, allowing the truck to speed out of range a little further. There were now close to a thousand drones spilling onto the road. Reisner eased back, lowering his rifle and gripping the edge of the truck.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at the turn-off to Pacelle’s cabin. The army of drones had faded for the moment and Reisner figured they had about ten minutes to make it up the hill to Pacelle’s dwelling. Nash brought the vehicle to an abrupt stop before a massive log blocking the road. It was covered with moss and looked to have been cut recently with a chainsaw at the base, given the fresh sawdust. They all hopped out, grabbing their gear. To the south came the thunderous sound of footfalls from the approaching horde.
“Damn—don’t those things ever stop to rest,” said Porter. He handed a pistol to one of the pilots then followed Reisner up the road.
“Should be a half-mile to Pacelle’s cabin from here,” said Reisner, who glanced over his shoulder towards the truck, wondering if the creatures were going to come into view at any second. This is going to be a hasty visit.
There were numerous birds flitting through the thick canopy of trees, which seemed an odd contrast to the bloodthirsty menace which was racing towards their location. Reisner could see that there weren’t any signs of disturbance along the forest floor or the dirt road to the right. I wonder if Andre’s even alive? He veered off the road and followed a narrow deer path through the forest until he came into sight of a one-story cabin. Hearing the drones approaching to his rear, he quickened his pace, stepping over the pine needle-laden ground as he moved up the incline.
Trotting towards the property ahead, he stopped abruptly when he saw a thinly disguised wire suspended between two trees. Raising his fist for the others to stop, he pointed at the ground, then knelt down to inspect the boobytrap, locating several other wires fanning out in either direction in a similar fashion.
“Looks like Pacelle has the place rigged with Claymores,” whispered Nash.
“I don’t see any indications of past explosions in the area. Seems strange that the creatures have never ventured up here,” said Connelly.
“You smell that?” said Higgins, the co-pilot.
Reisner noticed the faint wisp of something burning. He moved aside a tall patch of shrubs and stared at the cabin ahead, where he saw a thin rivulet of smoke trailing out of the chimney to the right next to an array of solar panels. “Looks like somebody’s home after all, and he’s not too worried about drawing attention to his location.”
Reisner looked back over his shoulder and could see the throngs of creatures a quarter-mile away down the hill, near their truck. They were standing still, as if an invisible fence contained them. Their opaque bodies were swaying from side to side as their blood-encrusted hands clawed at the air as if they were trying to part a curtain. Why the hell aren’t they attacking? He saw that there were only a few hundred paras and wondered if that was all that comprised the small town near the airport or if there would be more waiting when they returned to the plane.
He motioned with his hand for everyone to carefully move forward over the tripwires. “Keep your eyes peeled for any disturbances in the ground or a few feet up in the trees where there could be more traps.”
Approaching the cusp of the forest and the cleared field thirty feet from the cabin, Reisner felt his temples throbbing. A feeling of nausea overtook him and his vision began blurring. He looked up and saw the faint outline of a small audio speaker bolted to the trees, its outline broken up by green and brown paint.
Reisner glanced to his right at Porter, who kept blinking, his mouth contorted as he fell to one knee then collapsed. A second later, he saw Connelly and Jackson crumple to the ground. Reisner’s head felt like it was going to explode, and the pressure on his eardrums was maddening. It seemed like a mighty hand was squeezing down on his skull. With the others lying unconscious around him, he fought to hold on, but his vision kept narrowing as the pulsing sound enveloped him until his world went dark.
Chapter 12
“So, how’d you learn your way around an engine?” said Jason as he watched Mark work under the hood of the Bronco, cleaning the last of the spark-plugs and reinserting it. They had stopped in a densely wooded parcel outside of a small town. Runa and Jody were going over the maps on the tailgate and discussing their next move. Mark had volunteered to identify the problem with the slow turnover of the engine and decided to put his mechanic skills to use.
“You’re kidding me, right?” said Mark without looking up. “This is car repair 101 stuff.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t have the luxury of growing up with a dad or any older brothers,” said Jason. “And my mom was always busy working two jobs just to feed me and—” he paused, looking away as his voice cracked, “my little sister.”
Mark turned his head and glanced up at him, stopping to drag a g
reasy hand across his jacket sleeve. “Well, that makes two of us then. My old man was in jail for armed assault and hopefully is still rotting there.”
“Damn, sorry.”
“It was my uncle Ronny who showed me all this stuff.” He lowered his voice. “Though, let’s just say the fancy cars he worked on in his garage didn’t come with any paperwork.”
Jason raised his eyebrows then looked over at Megan, who had been sitting silently a few feet away, staring at the AR in her lap like it was a prehistoric artifact.
“So, you mean, he was, uhm…”
“It means your new pal there was raised by a thief—stealing cars from decent people who busted their asses for a living,” said Megan, who was giving Mark a sideways glance.
“My uncle was a decent fellow who looked after his own, so piss off, Princess.” Mark stood up, glaring at the young woman. “Not all of us grew up in a fancy house with running water and a fridge full of bacon and eggs.”
“Hey, bro, take it easy,” said Jason.
Megan stood up, leaning the AR against a fallen log and scowling at Mark. “You got that right, Thuglife.” She narrowed her eyes as she took a step closer with her fists balled up. “Don’t act like you know a fucking thing about me and the life I had before this world went to fucking hell.”
Jody appeared around the other side of the Bronco and moved between them. “Hey, you guys need to cool your engines.” She turned towards Mark. “You don’t think we have enough problems living on the run and dealing with those things out there without you turning on someone in our group?”
Mark folded his arms and tilted his chin up, staring at a cluster of cumulus clouds.
Jody pivoted back around towards Megan. “And you don’t have to be so quick to respond with such venom. It will only get you into trouble.”
“What—why? You don’t think I can kick his ass because I’m a girl?”
“Because you’re full of rage right now and you’re likely to do something that there’s no coming back from.” She stood back, looking at the three teenagers. “We’re all in a bad place right now and we all have short fuses. I know everyone here has lost people they love and there are times when you just want to lash out at the world so that the pain inside will stop.”