Fulcrum: V Plague Book 12 (6 page)

“How long have you been hearing that?”  I asked.

“Found it just before I called you,” Long answered.

The voice returned, and we all listened as the same message
was repeated.

Sam turned and scanned around us.

“What the hell is it?”  Rachel asked.

“Did it just start up, or were you rolling through channels
and found it?”  I asked, ignoring Rachel for the moment.

“Igor was rolling through,” Long said.

The message started again.  I listened closely, trying
to tell if it was a live broadcast and the woman was repeating herself, or if
it was taped and on a loop.  This time, she paused in a different spot to
take a breath.  The same words but they were being broadcast live.

She finished speaking, and we stared at the radio, waiting
for her to start again.  This time, she didn’t.  Instead, there was a
sudden increase in static as the transmitter went off the air.  I checked
on Sam, who was still keeping watch.

“Survivors?”  Rachel asked.

I shrugged, standing there in the dark and thinking.

“They have to be close, right?  For us to hear them?”

“Not necessarily,” I said.  “AM radio and the sun is
down.  That transmission could be coming from hundreds of miles away,
especially now when there aren’t any competing signals.”

“Or, they could be in the next town,” Sam said without
taking his focus off the surrounding desert.

“Right,” I said.

“Any chance it’s military?”  Rachel asked.

“Possible,” I acknowledged.  “But I doubt it. 
There’s more than enough radio gear lying around that’s in good working order.”

“And this is a one-way broadcast,” Long said.  “There’s
no way to answer.  But she’s telling units to check in.  That means
they’ve got two-way comms.  So why the hell are they transmitting in the
clear?”

I shook my head again.  It didn’t make any sense to
me.  But it did make me nervous.  We were approaching Vegas.  If
there was somehow a group that had survived the virus and the infected, they
might be a problem.  There was no reason to think they’d be friendly at
this point.

“She said
report
,” Sam said.  “We may be wrong
in assuming they are going to do that over a radio.  Maybe they don’t have
any comm gear and all they can do is listen for a broadcast and take action on
what they’re told.”

“Then how do they report?”  Rachel asked.

“Maybe they send a runner.  Or flash a light.  There're
all kinds of ways to communicate,” I said, thinking about what Sam had just
said.  And agreeing with him.

“OK,” I said after another minute of thought.  “This
doesn’t change anything.  We’ve still got a man to rescue.  Next town
is Crystal Springs.  I’m going to stop if I see someplace that looks like
it’ll have a road map.  Stay tight and keep your eyes open.  Let me
know if there are any more broadcasts.”

Sam and Long nodded, the SEAL heading back to his waiting
vehicle.  Rachel, Dog and I piled in our Humvee, quickly getting back up
to speed.

We reached Crystal Springs in less than fifteen
minutes.  It was slightly larger than the last town, sitting astride the
junction of two minor highways.  No infected greeted us as we passed a
faded welcome sign.  Everything was dark and abandoned.

“Keep your eyes moving,” I said to Rachel in a low
voice. 

She was wearing a set of night vision goggles.  Between
us, there shouldn’t be much we couldn’t see.

I slowed as we approached an intersection with a road sign
pointing the way to Vegas.  Beyond, a small truck stop loomed in the
night.  Driving through the intersection, I wheeled into its lot and came
to a stop a hundred yards from the closest building.  Taking my time, I
slowly scanned the entire area.

“Front’s clear,” I transmitted after checking to see if
Rachel had spotted anything.

Long and Sam responded in turn, neither of them seeing anything
of concern.

“Dismount,” I ordered, shutting the engine off.

We all got out, meeting next to the middle Hummer. 
Dog’s nose was up, testing the air.  I paused a moment, giving him time,
but he just kept sniffing without indicating there were any infected in the
area.

“Long and Igor, stay with the vehicles,” I said.  “The
rest of us, let’s see if there’s a map inside.”

I would have preferred to have everyone stay together,
especially in the event we ran into any problems, but I wasn’t about to leave
the Humvees unguarded.  All you have to do to start one is turn a small
lever, and it would take a matter of seconds for one, or all, to be
stolen.  There are normally steel cables, mounted to the dash, that can
lock the steering wheel in place and prevent theft, but for some reason, they
had been removed from these.  So someone needed to keep an eye on them.

I led the way across the lot, Dog close to my side. 
Rachel was right behind us, Sam hanging back a few yards and covering our
rear.  The dark building ahead was small, large panes of glass looking out
over the fueling area of the truck stop.  There weren’t any vehicles at
the pumps, but in a large, dirt lot to the side were half a dozen abandoned 18
wheelers.

As we approached, the night vision allowed me to see the
interior of the building.  Everything appeared orderly.  Whatever the
locals were doing when the virus hit, they apparently hadn’t been inside.

Reaching a pair of glass doors, I paused and stared
inside.  Nothing was moving.  There were a dozen rows of merchandise,
as well as glass fronted chillers stocked with beverages.  A small
register area was right next to the doors.  I could see a display for road
atlases.

Signing for Rachel and Sam to stay put, I gently tugged on
the door.  It didn’t budge, which surprised me.  The people here had
enough advance warning to lock up and leave.  Maybe because the area was
so isolated.

Taking a step back, I fired a couple of bursts from the
suppressed rifle through the safety glass in the door.  The entire pane shattered
but was held in place by the layer of tough plastic.  I kicked it out and
paused long enough to make sure there wasn’t an infected inside the building
that was coming to greet me.  Still seeing nothing, I stepped through,
snatched an atlas off the counter and ducked back out into the night.

“Light to the east, on top of the ridge.”

Long’s voice over the radio jolted me, and I spun to look in
the direction he’d indicated.  The cover over the gas pumps blocked my
view, and I quickly moved to an area that had a clear line of sight.  And
didn’t see anything.  I waited a few seconds, scanning back and forth, but
couldn’t spot it.

“Negative visual,” I said, not taking my eyes off the ridge.

“It’s gone now,” he replied.  “Only saw it for a few
seconds.  Series of quick flashes, then it went dark.”

I turned around and looked to the west.  Half expected
to see an answering signal, but after nearly a minute of watching I turned back
to the east.

“Let’s move,” I mumbled to Rachel and Sam.

We hustled back to the waiting vehicles.  Igor had
taken the sniper rifle I had been using at Groom Lake and was peering through
the thermal scope at the ridgeline to the east.

“See anything?”  I asked, stepping up next to him.

“Nyet,” he said without taking his eye away from the scope.

I checked to the west again, then turned a slow circle,
looking for anything that was out of place in the barren moonscape of the
Nevada desert.  Nothing.

“We’d better get on the road,” I said, not liking the
situation even one little bit.

We all climbed into our vehicles, the engines starting in
near unison.  Hitting the throttle, I led the way onto the road that
headed south to Vegas.

“Keep your eyes on the desert,” I said to Rachel, glancing
over my shoulder at the ridge.  “Don’t worry about the road.  If
we’re going to have a problem, it’ll come from the sides.”

By now we were at maximum speed, barely over 60 miles an
hour. 

“Think it’s Russians?”  Rachel asked, her head slowly
traversing across the surrounding terrain.

“Possible, but I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my
head.  “With that broadcast, I think we’ve found some survivors, and I
think they’ve found us.”

Rachel glanced at me for a brief second, then resumed her
scan of the surrounding terrain.

“Long.  Copy?”  I called on the radio.

“Go.”

“Have your passenger see if he can raise the rest of our
party on the radio.  Tell him to use his native tongue and speak to the
blonde woman.  Warn them of probable hostiles in the area.”

“Copy that,” he replied a moment later.

“You think they’re listening in?”  Rachel asked.

“Not going to take the chance,” I said.

Rachel nodded and didn’t say anything else.  Dog,
picking up on our tension, had his nose pressed against the side window behind
Rachel, staring out into the darkness.  I was opening my mouth to ask her
to reach back and slide the window open so he could smell the night air when a
loud bang sounded on the window right next to my head.

“Taking fire!”

I shouted on the radio and pressed harder on the
accelerator.  The damn pedal was already tight to the floor.  There
was the sound of another impact somewhere on my side of the vehicle.

“What the hell is that?”  Rachel shouted, wildly
looking around.

“Bullets!”

I began cranking the wheel, whipping the ungainly Humvee
back and forth across the highway.  Hopefully, this would make it harder
for the sniper to zero in.

“I’m taking fire, too!”

Sam’s voice over the radio, then a second later Long confirmed
he was being shot at.  As I continued to try and make us a more difficult
target, a part of my brain acknowledged that whoever was shooting at us was one
hell of a shot.  A vehicle moving at 60 miles an hour, at night, and he’d
put a round directly on my side window.  If it wasn’t for the additional
armor, he’d have taken my head off.

“Got movement!”

I looked at Rachel, then through her side window.  A
couple of hundred yards away, a jacked up Chevy pickup was racing across the
desert on an intercept course with us.  It was running blacked out, and I
couldn’t tell if the driver had night vision or was just winging it in the
moonlight.

“Contact at my three!”  I shouted over the radio. 
“Long, tell Igor to take them out!”

“Copy,” came a quick response.

It was only seconds later when the Chevy suddenly swerved
hard to its left.  The front tires dug into the soft sand, then it went
airborne and cartwheeled several times, disappearing in a huge cloud of
dust.  Igor must have shot out a front tire with the rifle.

“Contact on Sam!”  Came over the radio almost
immediately.  “Two vehicles on my six, closing fast.”

“I’m slowing!  Change places!”  Long called.

In the rearview, I saw Sam swerve into the oncoming lane and
stay there, the nose of Long’s Hummer dipping as he hit the brakes.  He
was positioning himself for Igor to fire on the pursuing vehicles, but I
couldn’t watch.  Ahead, a large truck completely blocked the road.

The Governor of Hawaii stood at the entrance to a massive
tunnel cut into the side of Mt. Kaala.  He was accompanying a young Navy
Commander named Meghan Glass.  She had been assigned by Admiral Packard to
coordinate defensive efforts with the civilian authorities.

Mt. Kaala is the highest point on the island of Oahu, near
the western edge of the island.  On the eastern base is Schofield
Barracks, an Army base.  The west side slopes down to the northwestern
beaches and is heavily forested with tropical vegetation. 

The tunnels were left over from World War II, leading into
bunkers housed deep within the mountain.  At the peak, with a commanding
view of miles upon miles of coastline, were a multitude of abandoned coastal
defense battery stations.  In their day, most housed 155 mm guns, but now
they were empty and overgrown. 

“This is going to be a target for the Russians.”

The Governor’s voice was whiny as he stepped farther away
from the gravel road.  A large truck carrying an anti-aircraft missile
battery rumbled past and into the tunnel.  Behind it was a long line of
heavily laden trucks, grinding their way up the primitive trail that was carved
into the side of the mountain.

“Yes, sir.  It probably will, but there will only be
military personnel inside.  You and your staff will be in Battery
405.  It’s 200 feet below ground and will probably be the safest place.”

“Then we should go there,” the Governor said, sounding
relieved.  “I don’t know why you’re bothering to show this to me.”

Glass took a deep breath, trying to hide her exasperation
with the man.  The Admiral had asked her to give him a quick tour of the
defenses that were being set up to protect the island, but the Governor seemed only
to be concerned about his personal safety.  Not once had he brought up the
topic of the plight of the civilian population during the coming Russian
invasion.

“I’ll take you there next, sir,” she said in a tight,
professional voice.  “But we have to wait until these trucks have cleared
the road.  There’s no other way down.”

“Can’t you have a helicopter or something come get us?”

She looked at the man.  At the obvious fear on his
face. 

“No, sir.  There aren’t any available.”

As if to punctuate her statement, a flight of several Apache
helicopters roared overhead.  They were escorting a dozen heavily laden
Chinooks that were transporting equipment and personnel from Pearl Harbor to the
mountain top.  Turning away, she looked out at the ocean stretching away
from the island.

Hundreds of boats of every size carved white scars into the
blue water.  The other islands were being evacuated, the people being
consolidated on Oahu.  There weren’t enough ships, planes or men remaining
to defend all of the islands in the chain.  Meghan didn’t think there were
enough to protect the one island which was the last outpost of America.

It was only a few minutes later when one of the trucks
ground to a halt next to where she was standing.  A large radar antenna
rested in its bed.  The passenger door opened, and three men who had been
crammed into the cab climbed down.  With a grinding of gears, the truck
moved away, and they quickly crossed the gravel track to where she was
standing.

Glass came to attention when she saw the eagle on the Army
uniform of the man leading the way.  He waved at her to relax as he walked
up to face her.

“Colonel Blanchard,” he said.

“Sir.  Commander Glass,” she responded, taking his
outstretched hand.

The quarantine that had been imposed on Blanchard and the
troops he’d brought from Nevada had ended as soon as Packard saw what the
Russians were planning.  The Admiral had placed the Colonel in charge of
the island’s ground defenses.

“Are you in charge here, Commander?”

“No, sir.  I’m escorting the Governor on a quick tour
of our preparations.”

Blanchard’s eyes slid over her shoulder and took in the
nervous man standing a few feet away.  As quickly as he looked, he
dismissed him and returned his attention to the naval officer.

“Carry on, Commander,” he said.

Turning, he looked into the tunnel, then stepped close to
Colonel Pointere, who had a large pair of binoculars pressed to his eyes as he
surveyed the surrounding jungle.

“Brutal terrain,” Blanchard commented.

“Damn brutal.  For the fucking Commies,” Pointere
growled, then lowered the glasses and raised his arm to point.  “We put
men all along the top of these two ridgelines.  That gives us control of
the valley leading up here.”

Blanchard took a moment to look over the terrain, then
nodded.

“Agreed.  But, we’ve got seven more locations to
defend, plus Battery 405 and the harbor.”

“We’re going to be thin on the ground, that’s for sure,”
Pointere said.  “At least we’ve got plenty of arms and munitions.”

“OK.  Let’s use your Marines for the static defensive
positions.  We can supplement with Navy and Air Force.  Use them for
observation and runners.  I’ll have some Rangers down in the valley. 
They’ll set up some surprises for our guests and keep them harassed so they
can’t move fast.”

Blanchard turned to the third man in the group.  He was
a Navy Captain, wearing a SEAL trident on his uniform.

“Captain, I’m rethinking your suggestion, and I agree with
you.  SEALs planting mines on the Russian ships.  There’s just not
enough of you to make a difference in the jungle, but if you can clog up the
harbor with burning enemy ships, it’ll make it damn difficult for them to keep
landing troops.”

The man smiled and lowered the binoculars he was using to
survey the harbor below.

“Figured you’d come around,” he chuckled.  “I already
told my men that’s what they were doing.  They’ll be ready.”

“Good,” Blanchard said without hesitating.  “Colonel,
get orders issued to your Marines and let’s move.  I want a look at Battery
405, then the north shore.”

“You’re going to Battery 405?  Can I get a ride with
you?”

The three men turned to see that the Governor had stepped
close behind them.  Blanchard glanced at Commander Glass before looking
back at the man.

“Shouldn’t you be coordinating with your state police or
something?  Get your civilians someplace safe?  Arm the ones that can
fight?”  Blanchard asked.

“My aides are handling that,” the man said in a pompous
tone.  “I’m supposed to be evacuated to the shelter.”

Blanchard sighed and turned his back on the man. 
Pointere and the SEAL officer had already moved away, radios pressed to their
ears as they issued orders.  The Colonel called his aide who was on his
way in a Black Hawk.  When he arrived, the Captain would take command of the
installation’s defenses.  Blanchard and the two officers would depart in
the Black Hawk.

The Colonel had just lowered his handset when the radio
beeped.  Answering it, he didn’t like the news coming from the CIC at
Pearl Harbor.

“Russians have sailed from Midway,” he said after the call
completed.

“How long?”  Pointere asked.

“Forty hours at their present speed,” Blanchard said.  “We’ve
got a crippled carrier, two Aegis cruisers and an attack sub going to engage
them in a few hours.  Try and slow them down, but we’re severely
outgunned.”

The three men looked up as a Black Hawk swooped over the top
of the mountain and came into a hover over their position.  They were
standing on a slope, and there was nowhere for it to land.

A moment later a crewman looked down before tossing a heavy
bag through the open side door.  A thick, fast-rope line unspooled as it
fell, thumping onto the edge of the gravel track.  A man appeared at the
opening, sliding down and stepping away.  He was quickly followed by three
more soldiers. The crewman leaned out again, then started pulling the rope back
into the hovering Black Hawk.

Blanchard spoke briefly with the Captain and a Lieutenant,
both men turning and jumping onto the running board of a passing truck. 
They would set up a command post within the mountain.  The two men
remaining stepped forward when the Colonel looked in their direction.

“How do you two keep turning up?”  He asked with a
grin.

Drago and Chico both shrugged their shoulders and smiled back
at him.

“OK,” Blanchard said, getting serious.  “We’ve got to
defend this approach.  The Marines are going to take the ridgelines on
either side of the valley.  When the squads show up, start setting up some
welcome presents.  You got into the armory without any problems?”

“Yes, sir,” Drago said.  “One thing about Hawaii, it’s
well stocked.  We’ve got enough to keep them bogged down for a while.”

“Make it happen,” Blanchard said.  “Captain Forest is
in command until I get back.”

“Yes, sir,” Drago said.

He and Chico turned away and headed down the steep slope. 
Within seconds, they had completely disappeared in the thick foliage.

Blanchard looked up as Pointere was helped into the
helicopter by a crewman.  He’d been winched up once the fast-rope was clear. 
The steel cable immediately started back down to pick up the next passenger.

“I have to go up that?”

The Governor stepped forward and grabbed Blanchard’s
arm.  The Colonel calmly reached over and removed his hand.  The
cable had made it back to the ground, and the SEAL officer stepped into the
harness and twirled his hand at the watching crewman.

“No,” Blanchard said.  “I’m sure there’s a vehicle
coming.”

The man looked at him in surprise, his mouth hanging open
for a beat.

“I was promised I’d be taken to the shelter,” he
shouted.  “I demand you take me with you!”

“Military only in the aircraft,” Blanchard said, stepping
forward to snag the harness swinging at the end of the cable.

“Admiral Packard will hear about this!”

The Colonel bit back a less than respectful response as he snugged
the harness around his hips, grabbed the cable with one hand and twirled the
other. 

“What was that all about?”  Pointere asked when
Blanchard stepped into the Black Hawk.

“Threatening to call the Admiral if I didn’t bring him with
us.”

“Fuck him,” the SEAL said.  “Goddamn politician!”

“Should have brought him,” Pointere said.

“You serious?”  Blanchard and the SEAL both asked in
surprise.

“Sure.  We could have thrown his ass out the door, over
the ocean, and told everyone he slipped.”