Not like now.
Not with Keri all infected and trussed up like a pig in the RV. Mom was…well…Mom wasn’t coming home again. And Dad? Well, Buck prayed that his dad didn’t die from his shot in the shoulder. He looked so bad when they left him back there. Surely the zombies couldn’t figure out how to get into the RV…
Buck groaned and rolled over onto his side. He was so tired. He wished he could sleep, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to keep going. He pushed himself up and onto his knees. He opened his eyes and saw a muddy pair of boots standing in front of him. Buck started to scream, but held it in. Slowly he raised his face and took in the filthy man standing before him.
The man’s clothes were tattered rags from running through the woods, catching on the limbs and brambles. His arms and legs were scratched and ripped open in spots, blood dripping from his hands. When Buck saw his eyes, he wasn’t surprised. They were blood-red. The man simply looked at Buck, his head tilted to one side. He seemed to study Buck for a moment, then stepped to the side and walked past him.
Buck lay there on the ground, on his knees, and listened as the man trudged up the hill, his footsteps crumpling leaves and twigs as he slowly made his way up. Buck felt like throwing up everything he’d eaten since Kindergarten as he realized how close he came to being zombie chow.
He collapsed onto the ground and his entire body shook. “Why didn’t he eat me?” he asked himself softly, his voice breaking.
Buck lay still, his eyes squeezed shut in disbelief when his ears picked up the rustling of more footfalls upon the forest floor. He froze with fear, but his eyes shot open. He didn’t dare move, but his eyes darted from side to side. He saw another zombie trudge by, not twenty feet from where he lay. It crossed the shallow creek and crawled up the bank on his side and began climbing the steep hill, following the path of the man who had just gone by moments before.
Buck lifted his head and watched as the nearly naked woman fell into step behind the man who had just moments before stared at him. Neither seemed interested in him at all. Buck fought to get to his feet and stared at the couple as they slowly climbed the hill.
“What the heck is going on?”
“Ma’am, we’re going to have to turn back,” the chopper pilot announced through the headphones.
Dr. LaRue sat up from her notes and asked Why, then realized her voice wasn’t carrying through the mouthpiece. She looked around for the microphone key and punched the button. “Why’s that? They’re expecting me.”
“They didn’t exactly say why, ma’am,” the pilot explained. “The whole area has been declared a no-fly zone, ma’am.”
Dr. LaRue hated how they constantly said ‘ma’am’, but she hated even more how the military did things and never explained themselves. “Is there any way I can speak with Dr. Andrews? He’s the one who asked me to come here.”
“I’m not sure, ma’am,” the pilot replied. “I can’ try to patch you through.”
“Please do.” She huffed as she sat back in her seat. She put her research away and stared out the window. Of all the amazing things she had seen here in America, she loved this rough wilderness the most. The serenity of the woods, the mountains, the waterways, it was most breathtaking.
The pilot squawked in again, “Ma’am, I couldn’t reach Dr. Andrews, but I did reach a friend of mine at the airbase. He couldn’t really tell me anything, but there are ways of saying things without really saying things, if you know what I mean.” The pilot was beating around the bush. She truly wished he would just spit out what he had found out.
“And?”
“Well, ma’am, if what I’m hearing is correct, the reason we’re being redirected is, the area is about to be Ground Zero for a strafing run,” the pilot said. “It sounds like they’re about to bomb Yellowstone National Park.”
Vivian sat back in her chair, the shock evident in her face. “Are you certain?” She practically tried to climb forward in the cabin.
“Well, ma’am, no, I’m not certain. But from what I gather, that would be my best guess.” The pilot cleared his throat and said, “In fact, I’m supposed to land you about forty miles from the designated area and wait for the fallout.”
“Fallout?” She gasped. “Surely it’s not nuclear!”
The pilot laughed. “No, ma’am. That’s just an insider term that means, wait ’til the dust settles. In fact, from what I understand, they’re using very large, but very conventional weapons.” He tried to set her at ease.
“How can you ‘gather’ all of this if your friend didn’t really tell you anything?”
The pilot smiled and shot her a set of perfectly white teeth, reminding her of an automobile salesman. “It’s sort of a secret code that we air jockeys developed during the war, ma’am.” He chuckled again. She almost expected to hear him tell her, ‘I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’
“I see.” She sighed. “So, there’s no way to communicate with those at the site?”
“My guess is they’re in the middle of bugging out. Most probably in transit or packing up and preparing to be in transit.”
Vivian shook her head. “This isn’t good.” She dug in her bag and pulled out her cell phone. It indicated no service and she slammed it on the seat beside her in frustration. Keying the radio again, she asked the pilot, “Is there any place we might fly this thing where I could get cell phone reception?”
“Not from inside the craft, ma’am,” he replied. “We have jamming systems that preclude the use of cellular devices.”
“Whatever for?” She was shocked she couldn’t at least try to call Joseph from the air. “Even commercial flights offer cell service.”
“This is a military craft, ma’am,” the pilot stated as if that should be the answer in and of itself.
“So? I need to reach Captain Andrews. If you can’t raise him by radio, perhaps I can call him.”
The pilot shook his head. “After Iraq and Afghanistan, all military craft are equipped with cellular jamming equipment. That way, if anybody sticks an explosive device onboard, they can’t set it off with a cellphone from a distance. No, ma’am, if you want to set off a bomb on this baby, you gotta be a suicide bomber and send yourself straight to Allah in bits and pieces.”
“That’s pure and utter lunacy,” she muttered, not realizing she had keyed her microphone again.
“Maybe, but it sure cut down on the number of craft lost.”
“Well, can you turn it off for just a few moments while I try to call Captain Andrews? You can turn it right back on once I’m finished and—”
“No can do, ma’am. It’s hardwired into the system. I have no control over it.”
Vivian sighed again in frustration. “Fine. How much longer until we reach our destination? Do you know if there will be cell service there?”
“We should be there in about thirty minutes, ma’am, but I can’t tell you for sure if you’ll have signal or not.”
Vivian clutched her phone and prayed. “Please let me reach him in time.”
All the way back toward the camp, the soldiers talked about how little time they had to pack their gear to ‘bug out.’ Andrews tried not to seem interested in their discussion as this was the first he had heard of the Army pulling out from the park, but he listened intently. Soldiers being soldiers, they tended to gripe and bitch about every little thing, blowing them out of proportion, but this…this was more than simply exaggeration.
Andrews realized a very important part of the plan had not been revealed to him… whatever Colonel Vickers had up his sleeve, he had not been informed. As they made their way back down the mountain, Andrews couldn’t take any more and finally turned to the disrespectful corporal, “When did you get word that we were pulling out?”
The corporal looked at him as if he were stupid and shook his head. “Just before we left the hilltop. General order to bug out came down. And here we are sitting out here babysitting you and your project with our thumbs up our asses.”
Andrews’ eyes widened as he looked at the noncom, his blood suddenly boiling. “First off, corporal, this little project, was Colonel Vickers orders, not one of my little pet projects. So we were both stuck out here. Second, why wasn’t I informed of this ‘general order’?” he barked, his face turning red.
The corporal smiled and shook his head. “Maybe because people like you aren’t issued these.” He pulled an ear piece from his ear. “Radios are kind of nice to have when you’re in the field. Sir,” he added with enough venom to royally piss off Captain Andrews.
Andrews felt his anger rising for just a moment, then he felt a peace come over him as his own plan formulated. If Vickers wants to bug out and take away his living test subjects, then Andrews would find his own. Even if he had to use unwitting volunteers. He was sure that someone as weak minded as this young booger muncher would be more than willing to be inoculated against the viral threat that waited out there in the woods. Andrews smiled inwardly as he planned his revenge against any noncom that would be insubordinate to him.
He simply nodded as he sat back against the hard-wooden bench. He glanced out the back of the truck and smiled when he saw the wrecked pickup in the distance. He knew the camp was just around the bend. He could grab his notes, his vials, his laptop, and a few more items of vital importance and get them packed before they had to leave.
Andrews sighed and began making mental notes of the inventory he’d need to start over, ticking off in his head the bare necessities he’d need to preserve his perfect virus for years to come.
Chapter 11
Bob walked up to the front of the ranger station, his eyes watching his own reflection in the windows as he approached. It hurt him to hold the rifle with both hands, but he did his best to at least give the impression he was capable of using it. As he approached the front of the station, he could hear yelling inside. A confrontation of some kind as two men’s voices rose up in anger.
He paused at the edge of the parking area and hovered with one foot on the concrete steps leading up to the building. He could feel his heartrate increase as he considered storming the building, gun blazing. His only desire being to take out as many soldiers as he could before they could gun him down…all to avenge Keri.
He stood there contemplating his next move when the roar of a large diesel engine snapped him from his contemplation. Bob turned and saw the large transport truck round the bend at the end of the road and enter the camp. The truck pulled around the tents and stopped in front of the large white tent, its occupants not noticing him standing at the front steps.
Bob was in the open with nowhere to go, and the passenger door to the truck opened, with a very large man stepping out and hopping to the ground. Without thinking, Bob turned and began walking toward the truck. He couldn’t hold the rifle to his shoulder, so he held it at his hip and leveled it at the man standing in the open door of the truck. The man had his back to him and was reaching back inside the vehicle for something. Most probably his weapon, so don’t waste time.
Bob opened fire.
The first rounds caught the front fender of the massive truck and Bob instantly adjusted. The next few rounds caught the door and shredded through it, splintered metal fragmenting and slicing through the large man’s midsection. Bob continued to fire, severing his spinal column and shattering his kneecap from behind.
The driver of the truck, having heard the gunfire, hit the ground and pulled his own weapon. He went around the front of the truck and began scanning for a sniper. Bob went around the back where the three soldiers and a man in an Army uniform and a white coat sat. Three of the soldiers began firing before Bob could clear the back of the truck, but he ducked back around the side, hugging the side of the truck. The soldiers began pouring out the back of the truck and around the other side, the last one trying his best to lay down covering fire.
Bob knew these were probably his last moments to live. He found it odd that he was okay with that. His daughter was dead, his wife was infected and missing. He had no idea where Buck was…he could only pray that somehow, some way, the boy had made it to a safe place. But as he stood here now, with his back against the side of the transport truck, Bob had made his peace with his maker. The world had gone to shit, and he was about to flush the commode.
He spun around the corner and pointed the rifle into the back of the truck again. The man in the uniform lay sprawled across the back of the truck, a bleeding wound across his forehead. Bob smiled at the realization the man must not have been much liked if his own men knocked him silly and abandoned him there. He still couldn’t raise the rifle to aim, but he could lay it across the top of the tailgate and empty the magazine into the prone body.
As Bob pulled the empty magazine and shoved in the full one from his pocket, soldiers began pouring out of the green tent. “Shit,” he muttered as he pulled the charging handle back and sent a round into the chamber. He leveled the barrel on the first wave of approaching soldiers and pulled the trigger.
Bob didn’t see where his bullets went as his eyes were closed most of the time, but he felt someone punch him HARD in the shoulder. The world suddenly fell into slow motion and time stopped having meaning.
The impact of the punch to the shoulder nearly spun him around and he felt his hand go numb. The rifle was slipping from his grip no matter how much his brain screamed to hold on.
Someone else punched him in the thigh and he felt his leg go out from under him, toppling him to the ground. He felt the wind go out from him as he impacted the ground and his head bounced against the dirt and gravel. He finally opened his eyes and stared ahead. Numerous sets of military boots were running in his direction as little plumes of dirt jumped up into the air. At first, Bob didn’t realize those little plumes of dirt were from bullets being fired at him, but he saw a spark fly off the rifle just feet from his head and it dawned on him then the cause of the tiny eruptions.
He suddenly felt stupid.
Bob didn’t have time to feel stupid for very long as a 5.5.56mm full metal jacket round entered the side of his skull and exited the other side. The shock wave of the bullet’s travel liquefied the jelly-like mass of Bob’s brain as it traveled through his cranial cavity, instantly shutting off nearly all electrical function of the brain. The shock wave traveled through the brain stem, shutting down the autonomous systems as well.
Bob Jennings, husband of Lucky, father of Keri and Buck, was no more.
But he’d gotten his revenge.
“What the devil is all this?” Vickers demanded as he stormed out of the station. He stood on the front steps and watched as a contingency of soldiers advanced on the body of a man and kicked a rifle away from him. “What happened out here? Where’s the roving security?”
“It would appear he disabled them and took their weapons, sir,” one of the soldiers said, holding up the M4 carbine.
Vickers scowled and shook his head. “We don’t have time for this kind of foolishness!” he shouted. “Finish packing the essential gear and get it out of here!”
“Yes, sir!” the man shouted, snapping a salute before turning and hustling the others back to work.
“And get another set of sentries posted!” Vickers yelled.
Hatcher stood behind him with a sardonic smile. “Looks like another good citizen that isn’t too keen on being bullied by the big, bad, military industrial machine.”
“Watch yourself,” Vickers warned. “You can easily be left behind.”
“What about the people in the trailer?” Candy asked.
“They were infected,” Vickers stated as he turned and reentered the office.
“Now I know that’s bullshit,” she called after him. “I overheard your conversation earlier. That crazy guy wanted to infect them as some sort of experiment and—”
“And he DID,” Vickers interrupted. “End of story.” He waved his hand toward the door, “In case you haven’t noticed, the woods are crawling with people who are either infected or abou
t to be. And, as I’ve explained, the solution is at hand. Now, you can either stay here and be part of that solution or you can prepare to leave. That choice is entirely up to you.” He glanced at his watch. “You have three minutes to make up your mind.”
Maggie walked past the arguing pair as if in a trance. She entered the office and picked up a single bag, then turned and walked out the door. Hatcher followed her with his eyes and thought she was shell-shocked in more ways than one. He turned and entered his office to gather some of his personal belongings. He picked up a photo of Shelly and stuffed it into a duffel bag as Vickers stepped in behind him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m packing.” Hatcher continued to stuff personal items into the bag.
“You can’t,” Vickers said, reaching for the bag.
“The hell I can’t.” Hatcher snatched the bag back from him. “You said—”
“WE are packing because we haven’t been here yet,” he explained. “Don’t you understand, Ranger Rick? This is about to be a natural disaster that the military will come to aid in. You don’t get advanced warnings of natural disasters. Therefore, you don’t get to pack anything.” He leaned in close and glared at the man. “You should feel damned honored I’m allowing you to walk away from this.”
Hatcher squared his shoulders and glared at the man. “You caused this.”
“No!” Vickers yelled. “We did not.” He pointed a long, bony finger at Hatcher in emphasis. “If you’ll recall, you called me, remember?”
Hatcher stepped back and bit his tongue. “But you and yours were working with this damned plague long before it ever hit here. How do I know you didn’t release it as some kind of test?”
“Because we’d never release it on our own country.”
“Like I would believe you?”
“Believe me or not, it’s truth.” He reached out and grabbed the bag from Hatcher. “In order for this to work, everything here has to survive or not on its own accord.”
Caldera Book 2: Out Of The Fire Page 19