Indestructible: V Plague Book 7 (15 page)

When I came down on the sand I found myself face to face
with a female.  It was too dark for me to see if her eyes were open, but for
the moment she remained still.  I lay there, my face no more than a foot from
hers.  Her breathing stayed slow and steady, but I was holding mine for fear of
waking her.

I’d been face to face with plenty of infected, but never
like this.  Now, I had time to notice the smell coming from her.  There was the
ripe stink of an unwashed human, but there was also the sickly sweet odor of
decay.  I hadn’t seen any sign that the infected were unhealthy.

Remembering the human remains I’d found in the other chamber
I didn’t have to use much imagination to figure out what I smelled.  Her
breath.  Fetid from feasting on raw flesh.  I couldn’t help but think about
what had to be trapped in her teeth that was generating the odor.

Dismissing the macabre images from my mind, I started to
crawl, ready to give her a wide berth.  I didn’t think I was making any sound
as I moved at sloth-like speed, but something gave me away.  Maybe it was just
another body being so close, or maybe she smelled me in her sleep and it woke
her, but either way I knew I had trouble when I heard her breathing change.

Moving by feel, I lunged, driving my left forearm across her
throat to prevent a scream.  I felt her larynx crush under the pressure, pushed
harder and drew my knife.  She was struggling under me, hands on my arm as she
tried to break free, and she was strong.  I had a good angle, able to use the
power in my shoulder as well as bring a lot of my body weight to bear, but she
still nearly succeeded in lifting me off her throat before I rammed the Ka-Bar
into her ear.

She immediately went limp, but I kept on the pressure and
gave the knife a twist just to make sure she was truly finished.  Satisfied, I
stayed where I was, listening.  I could still hear soft breathing all around
me, but couldn’t tell if a dozen females had heard the kill and were about to
drop on top of me.

Finally, after nearly a minute of not hearing any indication
the scuffle had been detected, I moved forward again.  I crawled with the knife
in my hand until I was clear of the body, then slowly got up onto my knee. 
Rifle up, I scanned the chamber, taking the time to do another count.  Same
number.  I gave it another minute and carefully stood, keeping the rifle up and
ready.

Continuing, I resumed my careful survey of the ground in
front of me prior to each step.  The going was slow and tedious, but losing
focus could spur an attack.  I had been fortunate to kill the female silently
enough to not disturb any of the others.  I couldn’t count on being that lucky
twice.

After what felt like hours, I reached the location where
Katie was lying on the sand.  I was now close enough to make out details in the
night vision scope and felt a thrill of victory when I was able to confirm it
was her.  She lay on her side, knees pulled up slightly, arms under her head
for a pillow, long hair tumbling across her shoulders and onto the sand.

A foot away from her another woman slept in a similar pose,
back to Katie.  I didn’t recognize her, and couldn’t tell if she was infected
or not, but doubted that she was.  She was wearing jeans, boots and a checked
western shirt.  Long, blonde hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail.

I took a few moments to check the chamber, glad to see all
was still quiet.  Silently dropping to a knee I leaned over Katie and placed a
hand over her mouth as I wrapped my other arm around her.  A second after my
touch, her eyes flew open and she began to struggle.

“It’s me,” I mumbled directly into her ear, unable to resist
kissing her cheek.  Immediately she stopped resisting and started to turn her
head to look at me.

“No sound,” I mumbled before removing my hand.  “They’re all
around us.”

She nodded and turned onto her back and wrapped her arms
around my neck, pulling me down until her face was buried against my shoulder. 
She was shaking, but I couldn’t tell if she was crying or not.  I could have
stayed that way for as long as she was willing to hold me, but we had to get
out of there before something woke one of the females and we were discovered.

I mumbled in her ear, telling her what we were doing.  I
couldn’t see her nod, but felt the movement against my body. 

“We have to take Glynnis,” she mumbled in my ear.

I had little doubt she was referring to the blonde woman,
and I sighed internally.  Getting in by myself had been hard.  Getting two of
us out would be more than twice as hard.  Three of us?  The odds of being heard
and all of us dying were not swinging in our favor.

Arguing with Katie would have been useless.  I’ve been
married to her too long and know better.  If we had been somewhere where I
could actually talk, she’d let me say my piece then tell me what we were going
to do.  In my heart I knew she was right.  For the same reason Rachel had
talked me into helping Stephanie on the way to the casino, Katie was right that
we had to help Glynnis.

I nodded, Katie releasing her hold on me.  Rising up I made
another full survey of the chamber while Katie reached for the blonde woman.  A
sharp hiss caused me to snap my head down, but I couldn’t see anything. 
Lowering the rifle I saw the woman turning towards Katie’s touch, but something
wasn’t right.  Her lips were peeled back from her teeth as she turned, her
hands grasping Katie’s arm.

Her teeth were inches from Katie’s unprotected face when I
pulled the trigger.  The round punched through her temple and she lay still,
but the suppressed report of the rifle sounded like a thunderclap to me after
so long in the near silence of the cave.  The only thing I could think to do
was drop to the ground behind Katie and hope for the best.

There were several sharp exclamations from around the
chamber as I hit the sand.  Drawing my Ka-Bar, I pressed it into Katie’s hand
and scooted until my head touched rock.  Slowly, I kept working my way
backwards until I was sitting with my back resting against the wall.  The rifle
was up and I was watching as a dozen females sat up at different points around
the room.

Katie wormed her way through the sand until she was sitting
next to me, facing out with the knife held in front of her.  I kept watching
through the night vision scope as four of the females that had been woken by
the shot stood and looked around.  They didn’t seem to be able to see any
better in the dark than I could, each of them scanning through the area where I
was sitting without pausing, but I still held my breath each time I saw one of
their heads turn in our direction.

After several minutes, two of them made their way to the
exit and left the chamber.  The two that stayed behind were standing stock
still, occasionally turning their heads from side to side.  I didn’t know if
they were listening or scenting, just knew I’d have been spotted a hundred
times by now if they could see me.

Time passed slowly.  Katie moved her leg carefully until it
was touching mine.  I felt for her.  Sitting in the dark, maintaining absolute
silence as you watched a couple of infected through a night vision scope was
nerve wracking.  Sitting in the dark and unable to see the danger that you know
is there would be much worse. 

But, she was keeping it together, like I knew she would. 
You know you married well when you have a beautiful wife that puts up with all
your shit and still loves you.  You know you hit the jackpot when the
apocalypse comes along and she manages to survive without you.

After what had to be an hour, one of the females looked
around a last time before lying back down on the sand.  The second one stayed
where she was for another half an hour before lowering herself onto the floor. 
I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, but didn’t dare make a move or sound. 

Were they confident there wasn’t an intruder in the chamber
and going back to sleep, or were they setting a trap?  Either way, I was in no
hurry to find out.  I may not have the patience of a sniper who can wait for
days on end for a target, but I certainly have enough to give them time to go
back to sleep before trying to escape.

I gave them half an hour, keeping my mind focused by
counting off the time in my head.  No, I’m not that precise, but I knew that I
counted slow and if I had counted to thirty minutes it was probably closer to
forty-five.  Making another check of the room I finally lowered my rifle, my
shoulders screaming at me for having been held in the same position for so
long.

Leaning to the side I pressed my mouth to Katie’s ear and
mumbled what we were going to do.  There weren’t a lot of instructions so it
didn’t take long and she nodded then reached up and caressed my cheek.  Old habits
die hard, and she automatically rubbed the stubble on my face with one of her
nails.  This was the signal she’d been giving me for years that if I wanted to
get close to her I’d better get close to a razor first.

Smiling, I turned my attention back to the room and slowly
rose to my feet, keeping my back pressed to the rock wall.  Another ‘all clear’
scan and I tapped Katie with my foot.  A moment later she was on her feet, left
hand resting on my right shoulder, Ka-Bar in her right.

Repeating the process that had gotten me across the chamber
earlier, I carefully scanned the sand in front of me and took a step forward. 
Katie stepped behind me, transferring her hand to my left shoulder.  She would
follow tight against me, hopefully in my tracks and not step on anything, or
anyone, and wake the females.

The progress was slow.  No slower than before, but certainly
no faster.  Katie’s hand was firm on my shoulder as we moved, and even though
she was close and in my tracks I made sure to keep a buffer zone between us and
any sleeping bodies.  Moving like this took us fifteen minutes to cross half
the chamber.

Reaching the center I looked at the ground and the sprawled
bodies around us.  What had been an open path on my way in was now blocked. 
One of the females that had stood up after the shot had lain down in a
different position and her legs were in our way.

Sure, I could see them and step over them, but how did Katie
manage it?  I wasn’t about to try telling her and risk even a low mumble waking
one of the infected.  Neither did I like the idea of taking the chance that
Katie would misstep because she couldn’t see the female’s legs in our way.

Cursing to myself, I turned and scanned to either side,
looking for a path we could follow.  Not seeing one I turned back to my front,
trying to come up with even a hair brained idea, freezing when I realized the
infected’s legs were no longer blocking the path.  Whipping the rifle up to
horizontal I started to turn to the right then saw her standing a few feet away
facing directly at me.

I pulled the trigger and her head snapped back as she
crumpled to the ground, falling across another sleeping female.  The shot
seemed louder than the last one and a heartbeat later there were bone-chilling
screams from all around us.

Tech Sergeant Scott sat in the commander’s seat of the
Bradley Fighting Vehicle; eyes to the periscope that provided him a view of the
gate they would pass through once the Rangers finished clearing enough
infected.  There weren’t anywhere near enough bodies to even slow the six
hundred horsepower, thirty-three ton tracked vehicle.  The concern was
preventing a flood of raging infected onto Tinker Air Force Base while the gate
was open.

Russian GRU Captain Irina Vostov was at the controls, reclined
at the driver’s station.  She too was watching intently through one of four
periscopes that provided a 360-degree view.  Scott would have preferred to be
the one driving, but with an arm in a cast he had delegated the job.  His
initial thought had been to have Igor drive, but the big Spetsnaz soldier had
settled into the gunner’s seat with a huge grin.

There had been some moments of panic outside when he’d begun
playing with the controls, traversing the 25 mm chain gun across a platoon of
Marines that were slotted for the next flight to Nassau.  They had shouted,
scrambling to get out of the weapon’s line, and hadn’t calmed down until Igor
pushed open the hatch in the turret and stuck his head up, shouting apologies
in broken English.

The Marines had let him know, in no uncertain terms, exactly
what they thought of him.  Even though he didn’t speak English, he certainly
understood enough to get the gist of their comments.  Laughing, Scott had to
stop him from firing up the vehicle’s defensive systems and lobbing a couple of
smoke grenades at the platoon.

Once everyone had calmed down, Scott had gotten them moving,
issuing commands to Irina.  She handled the big vehicle well and he suspected
she’d spent some time training on the Russian BTR-90.  The eight-wheeled
monstrosity was comparable in size and maneuverability to the Bradley, but
lacked the hard rubber road tracks that made the American machine look like a
tank.  He would have liked to know, but didn’t have time at the moment for a
conversation.

“Get ready,” the Lieutenant in charge of the Ranger platoon
clearing the area around the gate called over the radio.

“Copy.  We’ll clear the area fast once the gate’s open.” 
Scott replied.

For the fourth time he checked over the gauges, satisfied
the idling diesel engine was healthy and operating properly.  He peered through
the periscope at the ten jerry cans of diesel fuel strapped to the armored
sides of the vehicle.  Not knowing anything about a Bradley, he’d received a
crash course from an Army First Sergeant who’d commanded one for three tours in
Iraq.

Scott had been surprised to learn that they only held enough
fuel for a maximum range of 300 miles.  He had quickly found a couple of Air
Force machinists to fabricate a quick and dirty rack that would hold spare cans
of fuel.  He knew the Major’s original destination was over a hundred miles
away and had little doubt he’d wind up needing to refuel before the trip was
over.  The extra fifty gallons of diesel would give them close to another
hundred miles of range.

Looking behind him, he returned Igor’s grin and did a visual
check of the ammunition.  He had drawn extra ammo, loading heavier than a
Bradley normally is.  With 1,200 rounds for the 25 mm chain gun, 4,000 for the
7.62 mm machine gun and 10 TOW missiles they were ready for anything they
encountered.  An additional 5,000 rounds of rifle ammo already loaded into
magazines was also piled in the back.

“Go kick some ass!”  The Lieutenant shouted over the radio
as two Rangers began pulling the gate open.

“Let’s go, Irina.”  Scott said as he watched the opening in
front of them widen enough to drive through.

Irina didn’t bother answering, just accelerated forward.  She
drove aggressively, and as they pushed through infected and away from the Air
Force base Scott began to question his decision to let her drive.  Bradley’s
weren’t known for their smooth rides, and she seemed intent on moving as fast
as she could in the urban environment.  That meant bouncing over curbs and
medians at near full throttle. 

They whipped around one corner, Irina following the GPS
display on the panel to her right, a traffic circle with a large hump in the
middle just ahead of them.  Scott would have slowed and negotiated the turns,
staying on the pavement, but Irina sped up.  Diesel roaring, thirty-three tons
of armored vehicle went airborne momentarily, crashing back to the asphalt hard
enough to make him wish for a chiropractor.

“Slow down!”  Scott shouted over the intercom.  “Let’s not
break our ride before we’re out of the neighborhood.”

Irina said something over the intercom that made Igor laugh,
but a moment later their speed dropped.  She kept their pace more sedate as
they worked their way through Oklahoma City, heading north.  Occasionally,
Scott would see small groups of survivors dashing along the street.  Some of
them tried to wave the Bradley down, but Irina wasn’t stopping and he wasn’t
inclined to tell her to pull over.  They couldn’t save everyone.

Driving down one particularly long stretch, Scott kept
hearing frequent impacts, not unlike rocks being thrown up by a car’s tires and
striking the undercarriage.  Igor heard it too, scanning around with his
periscopes and saying something to Irina in Russian.

“Igor says we are being fired on,” she said.

“What?  Who’s shooting at us?”  Scott asked in surprise.

Irina and Igor had a brief conversation before she
answered.  “Look to our right.  About two o’clock on the top level of the
parking garage.”

Scott adjusted his view, a moment later spotting the wink of
a muzzle flash a second before he heard another impact on the exterior armor. 
Some jackass was taking pot shots at them.  Really?  Firing a rifle at a
vehicle that can battle tanks?

“Igor wants to know if he can take them out,” Irina said
after another exchange in Russian.

“No.  They can’t hurt us.  Let’s not waste ammo we may need
later,” Scott replied after a moment’s thought.  “And tell Igor not to engage
any targets unless he sees something that could actually cause us damage.”

“He says you’re taking all the fun out of the end of the
world,” Irina said a few moments later.

Scott swiveled in his seat and looked at Igor.  The big
Russian met his eyes with a broad grin and a shrug.  Shaking his head, Scott
turned back to watch the road as they kept moving north.

Close to three hours later they arrived at the downed
Osprey.  Irina brought the Bradley to a gentle stop fifty yards short of the
main wreckage.  Using the integrated night vision, Scott scanned the area,
looking for either survivors or infected.  He found neither. 

After confirming that Igor wasn’t finding any threats, he
and the big Russian lowered the rear ramp and stepped out into the night.  They
left Irina in the idling vehicle, each of them with a tactical radio set so
they could stay in communication.

“Son of a bitch!”  Scott exclaimed when they walked around
the right side of the Bradley.

The rifle fire that he hadn’t been worried about had punched
holes in the spare fuel cans on that side, and they were now all empty.  He
looked at Igor, knowing he’d hear “I told you so” if not for the language
barrier.  Running around to the left side he was relieved to find that half of
their supply still intact.  After a quick translation over the radio, Igor
slung his rifle and grabbed the first can off the makeshift rack.

Cursing himself for having stayed Igor’s hand when the
Russian wanted to take out the sniper, Scott moved to the downed aircraft while
Igor started pouring diesel into the Bradley’s tank.  Not seeing anything that
hadn’t been in the satellite image he’d been shown by Captain Blanchard, he
stood staring at all the bodies.

“What do you see?”  Irina asked over the radio.

“Dog survived,” he answered.  “There’s at least three female
infected with their throats ripped out.”

“What about the Major?”  Irina asked.

“Don’t know.  I’m going to take a look inside the
fuselage.”  Scott answered, clicking on a high intensity flashlight and
climbing through the debris.

He spent several minutes searching, finding more bodies, but
not the Major, Rachel or Martinez.  Moving back outside he paused, looking at
the crash site.  The Osprey was heading south when it crashed.  On its way back
to Tinker?  Most likely.  And the presence of Dog was pretty compelling
evidence that either the Major, Rachel, or both, were on board when it went
down.

While he was standing there looking, Igor walked up and
joined him.  The Russian didn’t bother to look at any of the bodies, but
started walking around the area peering at the ground.  Scott had forgotten
about the tracks Captain Blanchard had found in the satellite image.  Igor kept
moving, slowly working his way farther and farther from the wreckage.  He
paused a couple of times, then looked to the east and started walking across
the field.  Scott jogged over to see what he’d found.

Igor looked at him and started speaking rapid fire Russian
into his radio, motioning for Scott to return to the Bradley with him.  As they
approached, the rear ramp dropped with a whine of hydraulics and they quickly
boarded and took their seats.

“A large group headed to the east after the crash,” Irina translated
once Scott was back on the intercom.  “They were followed by a dog and a man in
US Army issue boots.  I think we know which way the Major went.”