Dark Cure: A Covid Thriller (Dark Plague Book 1)

by Bradley West

  Travis thought the plan belonged in a comic book, but without professional soldiers, breaching charges, flashbangs, and smoke grenades he didn’t have practical advice other than he’d station himself in the bed of the pickup where he could choose the appropriate weapon and adjust their location by instructing his driver, Carla.

  Jaime and Arkar would walk over to the high school at dusk, cut through the perimeter fence, climb the school's outside walls, and cross the second-story roof before ascending to the gym’s third-floor roof. They’d take their time, watch for IEDs and hammer their pitons with care lest the noise alert the abductors.

  * * * * *

  Burns had endured a long struggle to come up with half a pill bottle’s worth of saliva while sporting a 103˚ (39.4C) fever and a dry cough, but he’d done it and Shuckies would use it to contaminate Horne’s dinner. The classroom door burst open and Muller, Horne and Katerina strode in with death in their eyes. Stephanie jumped up and held Tyson close. Burns pocketed the Covid-20 spit bomb and pulled off his facemask to go out with a defiant look.

  Muller had been on the verge of striking Burns when the mask came off. “Put that back on! And tell me why you posted photos of those two on the dark web? Who is Double Lucky?”

  Burns realized that the gig was up unless Smiley played hero right now. He put his mask back on and Muller punched him in the gut and doubled him over. “Go ahead, hit me. Every time I gasp or cough or bleed, I spread the virus. You’ll catch it and die.” Muller realized that he was right, but in fury he lashed out with his right foot and dropped Burns with a kick to the inside of his knee.

  “I need that USB with the bank accounts and customer information, plus your password.”

  Burns clutched his ruined left knee. His tormentors would have to die for him to live. In the meantime, he had to delay until Maggio arrived. “Bring the laptops to me.” Over the next fifteen minutes, Burns stalled as best he could as he surrendered the Bitcoin vault details and fumbled with bank passwords. He eventually coughed up the USB, too, but it was only half complete so that increased his captors’ fury another notch.

  Muller again lost patience. “Katerina, go next door and bring five donor bags plus your transfusion gear.

  Katerina complied as Stephanie watched in apprehension. The evil bitch said, “What’s the plan?”

  “Withdraw one liter at a time from Stephanie until Fraser gives us the information. When she’s empty, we start on the baby.”

  Stephanie dashed for the doorway with Tyson, but Horne had his pistol pointed at her before she’d taken four steps. “Not so fast, cunt.” She stopped and he led her by the arm to a student chair-desk across from Burns. “Sit. If you move, I’ll cut off your brat’s fingers one at a time.”

  Burns stared at Muller and Katerina. “I don’t give a toss what you do to her or the baby.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Muller said. “Honey, hook her up.”

  From the doorway, Shuckies watched in dismay. Five liters? This bullshit had to stop. Horne read his expression and aimed his pistol in a mirror image of Shuckies earlier this morning. “Two fingers with the left hand, Smiley, and place it on the floor.”

  An explosion sounded and the room shuddered. Acoustic tiles fell, and the lights flickered and expired as the backup generator failed. Shuckies dropped to the floor and came up with his Glock out, infrared dot searching for Horne. The hobbled goblin hadn’t moved, and Smiley put his first shot into his chest but missed the headshot for the kill.

  Stephanie clutched Tyson to her chest as Katerina stabbed her at the base of the neck with a thick transfusion needle. Pressing her baby close with one hand, Stephanie grabbed Katerina’s shoulder to provide more leverage for a textbook Krav Maga knee to the solar plexus. The scientist collapsed. Steph pulled the needle out of her neck and ran for the exit.

  chapter thirty-five

  HEAVEN’S DOOR

  Tuesday, July 14: Oakland, California, night

  From flat on the floor, Shuckies sought Muller in the darkness. A muzzle flash and deafening report were met by Smiley’s return fire, a pattern of six shots that covered the areas a dodging Muller might occupy. The sound of toppled desks meant something good had happened. Shuckies crawled for the door and saw it fly open as Stephanie burst into the hallway. The absence of gunfire suggested Muller was down.

  Arkar descended from the skylight and was halfway to the floor when the gunshots erupted. He rappelled the last twenty feet in a near freefall and unclipped before Jaime landed on his head. Neither man wore night-vision goggles since they had anticipated the lights would stay on. The only light in the cavernous gym came from the green glow of the exit sign. Two beams found the doors that opened onto the hallway, and the pair raced through, hellbent on reaching the source of the gunfire.

  Outside the school’s destroyed rear entrance, Sal gawked at the two-story hole as smoke belched out. Now his job was to enter the school, find the correct long hallway and take cover somewhere with a good vantage point. He turned on his headlamp and picked his way through the rubble, broken glass and twisted metal. The ceiling had collapsed, and he had to climb over an indoor mountain of debris to find the corridor to the science lab. His headlamp barely cut into the gloom and the smoky air was scarcely breathable. He had to find Steph and Tyson: nothing else mattered. Down the hallway, he heard an infant’s cries and his senses heightened.

  Katerina couldn’t believe that the scarecrow had bested her. Her ears were roaring after all those gunshots, so she felt her way around the classroom until she encountered Rolf on his ass, arms tight to his side. She touched his hands, and her fingers came away bloody. “Give me your gun,” she shouted. “I’m going after that bitch!”

  Muller said something she couldn’t hear, but he clung onto her forearm and she helped him to his feet. “I’m hit, but it’s not bad,” he repeated. “Find my weapon.” She felt around on all fours, nausea subsiding from the vicious knee to her stomach, and came up with the Colt 1911. She handed it to him, and he leaned over and spoke into her ear. “Find Horne. Take his weapon.”

  Muller’s flashlight showed Horne on his back, frothy pink bubbles at the corner of his mouth and a crimson chest wound slickening the floor. He was conscious and wide-eyed but in shock and said nothing. Katerina ignored the bleeding man’s needs and coolly picked up his pistol.

  Fraser Burns was dying of the plague, of that he was certain, but for now he remained unwounded other than ligament damage to his knee. He watched in silence as the flashlight’s beam illuminated Horne but missed him. Oh, how he wished for a gun. Katerina guided a bent-over Muller out the door.

  Burns’ mobile was dismantled in a sandwich bag in his pocket. He’d put it there when he’d relocated earlier in the day and hadn’t bothered to take it out since. His fevered head burned, and his dry mouth couldn’t swallow, but a plan took shape. He futzed around and finally managed to insert the battery, and then dropped the SIM card on the first try. On came the power and the flashlight, and over he crawled to the gurgling Horne. Burns could see that Bomber was in a bad way, but he covered his bases and tipped the pill canister of spit into the man’s open mouth, nostrils and wounded eye socket. Horne shook his head, but not enough for Burns to miss his targets. “That’s from Stephanie and me to you,” he said as he parried Horne’s slow-motion backhand to the face.

  Arkar and Jaime saw the two lights dance far down the hallway. Not knowing if Stephanie was one of the silhouettes, they held fire and cut their lights as they advanced. As they reached the classroom door, the odor of gun smoke reached their noses. Jaime entered first, Berretta up and pencil flashlight in a two-handed grip. Arkar followed with his M-4. Jaime spotted the wounded Horne and confirmed he was unarmed. They heard a weak voice call. “Sal! Sal Maggio! It’s Fraser Burns. Help me.”

  Jaime swung his light around. “Where are Stephanie and Tyson?” he asked.

  “They ran out with a guard named Shuckies. Katerina and Muller are after them. Muller
’s wounded. I have the virus and can barely walk. Help me.”

  Arkar and Jaime were already out the door when Burns heard Jaime’s reply: “If you want to live, follow us up the hallway and outside. There’ll be a vaccine for you so long as Steph and Tyson make it out all right.”

  Steph moved toward the source of the explosion, feeling her way along the endless bulletin boards and lockers. A hand touched her shoulder and she tensed in anticipation of a blow. “I got you,” Shuckies said over Tyson’s cries. “You’re okay. Slow down.”

  The sound of the massive explosion had roused the Oakland PD to dispatch a squad car. The two men in leather jackets stood next to their parked motorcycles and watched as the black-and-white pulled through the open security gate, headlights illuminating the column of smoke. “The fuckin’ place just blew up,” one of the bikers said into his phone. “I’m talkin’ a major explosion and now the law has drove up to take a look. Whaddya want us to do?” He listened for a moment. “Will do,” he replied and ended the call. “We go in once the cops leave and find that fuckin’ laptop,” he said to his colleague. “Norris figures it’s the same cunts who bombed our club. We talk to whoever’s left and figure this shit out.”

  His companion pulled out a glass pipe. “I’m tired a waitin’. Want to smoke some crank?”

  * * * * *

  The police took the main road around the back and passed a parked sedan. Their beams landed on a pickup that moved off into the smoke. Officer Schneider activated the light bar and siren, while Officer Eagan flicked on the high beams and initiated pursuit. They were behind the sand-colored Ram 2500 when it halted. A man with a sniper rifle and a huge night-vision scope pulled himself upright in the bed, leaned back against the cab for support, put one round through the radiator and a second neatly in the middle of the windshield, shattering the walnut foregrip on the vertically stored shotgun. Eagan killed the lights and both men dove below the dashboard. “Stay down!” Schneider yelled as the Ram drove off.

  “All units! All units!” Eagan shouted into his radio. “We have a 10-71 at McClatchy High School. All units!” The fourth and last police dispatcher had died that day and hadn’t been replaced, so no response came. “Goddammit, what do we do now?” he asked his older colleague.

  “Get the fuck out of the car and wait by that car back there. Sooner or later, someone will come for it or drive past. Then it’ll be our turn.”

  * * * * *

  Sal chanced it and shouted into the dark. “Stephanie! It’s Dad!”

  “Dad? Dad!”

  “Are you all right? Is Tyson with you?”

  “We’re fine! I’m with someone who’s helping us,” Stephanie said. Shuckies took this as a cue to turn on his phone flashlight.

  “Stay there,” Sal said. “I’ll come to you.”

  At that instant, Muller opened fire and dropped Shuckies. His phone flipped onto its back, beam pointed up. Stephanie and Tyson were half-lit to the side. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot you dead!” Katerina shouted.

  Stephanie froze, afraid to move, but yet so close to her father and freedom. Up the hallway, Sal couldn’t see past the vertical shaft from Shuckies’ phone. Stephanie’s wide eyes looked blankly in his direction before hands jerked her out of the light. Sal crept down the hallway, senses straining.

  The gunshots prompted Arkar and Jaime to quicken their pace. Far ahead, they saw two lights advance toward them a short distance, then disappear to the right. Jaime gambled, turned on his penlight and held it out to the side. No one fired on them, and Arkar added his headlamp to Jaime’s Maglite as they dashed forward.

  Sal crouched by the wounded man. “I’m Steph’s father. How many kidnappers are left?”

  “Just two,” Shuckies murmured. “I shot one and Burns is sick.”

  “I have to find Stephanie. I’ll come back for you, I promise. Hang on.” Sal turned on his headlamp and looked down the hallway. Two high-intensity beams bobbed up and down as their owners ran toward him. “Jaime! Arkar! It’s Sal,” he shouted as he ran toward the lights. So eager was he to link up that he ran past the kidnappers’ turnoff. As he stepped into the junction, a pistol shot cracked and a bullet smacked into a bank of metal lockers. Sal hit the floor face-first and skidded across the hallway to the other side.

  “I saw Steph and Tyson,” Sal said as Arkar lifted him to his feet. “A man and a woman have them. One guard is wounded on the floor back there. He said he shot another one while helping Steph.”

  “That tallies,” Jaime said. “Three down and two to go.” Jaime pulled out the floorplan and they tried to determine their location.

  Sal made the connection first. “We’re here. The cafeteria is just ahead plus the kitchen and storage areas, and the hallway dead-ends into the mirror-image of this long corridor.”

  “Well, fuck,” Jaime said. “How the hell do we know where they went?”

  “All exit doors wired with HE,” Arkar said.

  Sal had a realization. “Not all of them. There must be one door they can lock or disarm. It has to be back in the loading bay that links the cafeteria to the service road for food deliveries. That’s how they get in and out unseen.”

  “Good call,” Jaime said. “I’ll go outside and get Ryder. You two keep them in the cafeteria and call me when you confirm their location. We’ll take them from behind.”

  “There’s a big pile of rubble where the bomb exploded,” Sal said. “Be careful.”

  Jaime grinned. “I’ll be fine.” He switched on his flashlight and broke into a run.

  “Light off,” Arkar said. “Follow me and quiet.”

  * * * * *

  Stephanie nursed Tyson, the alternative being Katerina’s promised immediate execution of the infant. They stood at the back of the kitchen as Muller unlocked the padlocked door. The loading dock, service road and freedom awaited.

  “We can’t bring her with us, at least not with that baby,” Muller said. “But if we kill them, we lose everything.”

  “I have an idea,” Katerina said. “Lock them in the walk-in freezer. If we’re caught, we trade them for our freedom. If we escape, they’ll freeze solid, but I can thaw them later and recover blood, plasma and antibodies. At least ten million bucks worth of Dark Cure in the two of them combined, even if we lose most of the antibodies.”

  Stephanie considered shouting, but unless help was nearby, all that would do is guarantee Tyson’s and her deaths. “I’ll be quiet, I swear. Tyson’s nursing. Take us with you. Use us as hostages.”

  Muller grabbed Stephanie by the arm. “You use any kung fu shit on me and your baby dies.” He could feel the fight drain out of the gaunt woman. He led them to the walk-in freezer and opened the door to a blast of frigid air. “In you go. Stay warm and wish us luck.” Muller latched the door and listened. After a three-count, the cries and pounding began, but they were too faint to hear more than a few steps away.

  Katerina examined the temperature control. “It’s at twenty degrees. Move it down?”

  “Don’t bother. We’re parked two blocks away and my side hurts like hell. Let’s go.”

  Katerina turned the thermostat down to ten Fahrenheit (-12C) anyway. Suffer, bitch. She smiled at the thought of two Maggio-flavored popsicles, one a skinny vanilla and one a raspberry gumdrop.

  * * * * *

  Jaime negotiated the indoor obstacle course in one-third the time it had taken Sal. It was like being back in the bombed-out rubble of West Mosul. The smoke had dissipated, and he burst past the remains of Barb’s car at a run. He wondered where in the hell Ryder and the pickup truck were. As he sprinted outside, he spotted the Audi in the distance. A light came on next to the car. “Police! Stop right there!”

  Jaime’s rifle was slung across his back and his pistol holstered. He didn’t have time for this stupid shit, but there wasn’t an alternative. He pulled up, hands in the air, lungs heaving. “Kidnappers are escaping. Follow me back inside!”

  “Don’t move!” Officer Schneider said. �
��You just blew up a whole goddamn school. Hands up and drop your weapons.”

  “What? Which one do you want me to do?”

  From up the road in the dark came a mild drawl Jaime once found an irritation, but more recently recognized with relief. “Drop your weapons and raise your hands,” Travis said, putting the command in the right order. “I’m the one who ventilated your squad car, so don’t be stupid.” Schneider and Eagan did as they were told, and under Travis’ cover, Jaime had the Audi unlocked in seconds.

  Jaime started the engine. “We’re setting you free,” he said to the two cops. “There are wounded and dead kidnappers inside, plus two of our men and two hostages. Don’t shoot anyone, and don’t try the school doors since they’re wired with C4. There’s a man shot down the hallway on the right who needs an ambulance.”

  Ryder limped up, opened the passenger side door, and eased his sore body into the bucket seat with the sniper rifle poked out the side. “And don’t pick up your guns or I’ll shoot you both.” The Audi roared off while the cops stayed in place. Officer Eagan’s legs were trembling. He was only six months out of the academy and these Rambos scared the shit out of him.

  * * * * *

  Arkar and Sal made their way through the cafeteria quiet as mice, and heard and saw nothing. Arkar’s light danced around the food service counter, expecting the tangos to shoot from cover. Again, nothing. An impatient Sal was the first one through the swinging door and into the kitchen, earning a hiss of disapproval as Arkar passed him and took point again. The little man’s headlamp illuminated a shoe. Steph’s shoe. Sal ignored the risk and ran up for a closer look. He flashed his headlamp around: There was a rear door, shut but unlocked, padlock on the ground. They’d gone out that way. Arkar beat him to the exit door and inspected the frame for explosives. He liked what he saw and opened it a crack: nothing. Arkar eased it open a foot and looked out into an empty alley.