Indestructible: V Plague Book 7 (21 page)

“We’re going where?”  Rachel asked when Scott’s conversation
with Captain Blanchard ended.

“Ponca City,” he said, staring at the navigation display to
his right.

“Northwest of here,” Joe said, moving to look over Scott’s
shoulder.  “Why are we going there?”

“Your lab at the University looks like it’s damaged, plus
there’s about a billion infected heading for Oklahoma City.”  He said,
scrolling the map.  Finding the small town, he selected it with the mouse and
the system generated a route for them to follow.  “Irina, new destination on
your screen.”

A minute later they all held on as she whipped them through
a turn and accelerated along their new route.  Swiveling his seat around, Scott
faced the two passengers.

“They located Dr. Kanger.  He says, with both of you
helping, he can engineer a Terminator virus.  But he needs the right facility,
and with the one at the University out of commission they didn’t have many to
choose from.  He settled on one in Seattle called…” Scott paused to look at his
notes.  “The Allen Institute.  Ever heard of it?”

“Yes,” Joe said without hesitation.  “Paul Allen started
it.”

“The Paul Allen that helped found Microsoft?  That Paul
Allen?”  Rachel asked.

“That’s the one.”  Joe nodded.

“I thought he owned sports teams.”  Scott said.  “The
Seahawks, right?”

“Yes, but he also spends millions of his own money on
biological research.  He’s one of the good guys.  The Allen Institute is
actually the Allen Institute for Cell Science.  Cutting edge research and
approaches to understanding every different type of cell in the human body. 
From what I’ve read they’re actually better equipped than the CDC was.  Working
there means you’re at the top of your field.”  Joe explained.

“I still don’t understand what this town we’re going to has
to do with Seattle.”  Rachel said.

“Tinker’s cut off.  They’ve had some problems and the
infected are close to breaching the perimeter fence.  They’re probably going to
fall before the evacuation is complete.”  Scott said, pausing long enough to
check the nav display.  Satisfied Irina had them on their route he turned back
to Rachel and Joe, giving Irina a moment to finish translating for Igor over
the intercom before he continued.

“Dr. Kanger is onboard an Air Force F-15, being flown to
Washington State.  There’s already a SEAL team on the way to Seattle to secure
the facility and be ready for his arrival.  The Navy has a plane on the way to
pick you two up, and the closest airport with a long enough runway that is
clear of infected is at Ponca City.  I’m supposed to get you two there so you
can be flown to Seattle to assist Dr. Kanger.”  Scott watched Rachel as he
finished speaking, expecting resistance from the stubborn woman.

“What about John and Katie?  And Dog?”  Rachel asked.

“We’re not going with you,” Scott answered.  “Once you two
are safely in the Navy’s hands, we’re going to find them.  The satellite that
spotted you is still looking.  If he’s out there, it’ll find him.”

Rachel turned and stared at the metal wall a few feet in
front of her.  She understood enough about how viruses worked that she believed
there was a very real possibility that a weapon could be created that would
destroy the infected.  She also understood that her help wasn’t needed for the
actual engineering efforts, rather her familiarity with lab equipment.

But did they really need her?  There had to be someone else
equally qualified that could fill the role of lab assistant.  She looked up at
Scott and started to open her mouth, but he was prepared and cut her off.

“Colonel Crawford said to tell you that you don’t have to
like it, you just have to do it.”  He said.  “My orders are to make sure you
two get on that plane.  It’s not open for discussion.”

“I’m not in the goddamn military!  You can’t order me to do
something!”  Rachel said, anger flashing in her eyes.

“No you’re not, and before the attacks he couldn’t have
forced you to do anything.  Now?  Everyone has a job to do if we’re going to survive.” 
Scott replied in a calm voice.

Rachel seethed, but held her tongue.  She knew Scott was
right, but she still didn’t understand why it was so important that she went to
Seattle.  Then it hit her.  Colonel Crawford was protecting her.  Joe was important. 
He had to go.  Rachel knew she could contribute, but also knew that anyone who
had worked in a hospital lab was just as qualified as she was.

If Crawford didn’t send her to Seattle, she’d be left out on
the Oklahoma prairie with millions of infected bearing down on the area.  With
no way to get back onto Tinker and leave with the evacuees.  The same fate that
Scott, Irina and Igor were facing.  He was doing what he could to save her
life.

The anger flowed out of her, replaced by profound sorrow.  She
didn’t see how anyone left behind could possibly survive once the herds
arrived.  Scott, Igor and Irina might hold out for a while inside the Bradley,
but the prospects for their long-term survival were poor.  And what about John,
Katie and Dog?

They might be dead already, she told herself.  As fucking
indestructible as John was, the odds he’d faced going into the caverns after
his wife were daunting.  Sure, he’d proven he could survive where most would
have given up, but she knew that sooner or later his number would come up.

Heart breaking as she thought about him, she hung her head
and blinked tears away.  Finally she lifted her head, looked at Scott and
nodded. 

“I’ll find him,” Scott said, eyes locked on hers.  “And I’ll
make sure he knows where you are.”

“Just tell him I’m OK, and that I hope he and Katie are
alright.  I don’t want him coming after me.”  Rachel said, sniffing back tears
and drying her cheeks.

Maybe this was exactly the break and the clean start she
needed.  As much as it hurt to think about never seeing him again, Rachel knew
she would just be a third wheel with Katie back in John’s life.  If they were
even still alive.  If they weren’t, there was nothing holding her here.  If
they were, then the last thing Katie would want is her hanging around.

And, Rachel had to admit to herself, it was the last thing
she wanted too.  Always on the outside, watching the man she was in love with
as he moved on with someone else.  She couldn’t put herself through that.  So
she’d go to Seattle and work her ass off to help save what was left of the
world.  They’d either pull it off and she could go start a new life somewhere,
or they’d fail, in which case things were just going to keep getting worse
until there weren’t any survivors and the infected would rule the planet.

They drove for close to two hours, no one talking other than
an occasional comment between Scott and Irina related to their progress. 
Rachel sat in her own silence, in no mood to talk to anyone about anything.

“Sun’s coming up,” Scott’s voice roused her from her
thoughts.  “We’re approaching the southeastern edge of town.”

“How does it look?”  Joe asked, stretching muscles that were
cramped from sitting in the tight space and being bounced around like a Ping-Pong
ball by Irina’s aggressive driving.

“Quiet,” Scott said with his eyes pressed to the periscope. 
“Abandoned.  At least so far.  How many people lived here?”

“Maybe 25,000,” Joe said after thinking for a moment.

“We’ve been passing infected for the past hour that are streaming
south towards Tinker, but nowhere near that many.  Maybe they evacuated.” 
Scott said.

“Or maybe they all turned and they’re just sitting around
waiting for a bunch of idiots to show up for breakfast.”  Rachel said.

Igor snorted a laugh after Irina translated her comment for
him.  Rachel looked up at him and couldn’t help but grin.  John’s sarcasm had
rubbed off on her.

“Nice and easy, Irina.  No need to go blasting through
town.  We’re early.  The Navy isn’t supposed to be here for another hour.”  Scott
said.

Irina said something in Russian that brought a big snort of
laughter from Igor, but a moment later the noise and vibration reduced as she
slowed the heavy vehicle.  Scott chose to ignore her, splitting his attention
between the periscope and the navigation display.

“Joe, do you know where the airport is?  It’s not showing on
the map.”  Scott said a minute later.

“Northwest of town.”  He said.  “Let me see where we are and
I’ll tell you how to get there.”

Scott looked around, then nodded and vacated the vehicle
commander’s seat.  “Just don’t touch that,” he said, pointing at a control
station for the Bradley’s weapons.

Joe slid into the seat and looked through the periscope. 
After a few minutes he climbed down and faced Scott.

“Stay on this road.  Soon we’ll cross a river and it will
end.  Turn left and follow that road to Waverly Street.  Turn right and go
about four or five miles and you’ll see the airport.”  He said.

Scott relayed the directions to Irina as he climbed back
into his seat.  Soon, Rachel could hear a difference in the sound of the treads
on the road surface and she assumed they were crossing a bridge over the river
Joe had mentioned.  Her suspicion was confirmed when less than a minute later
Irina slowed then cranked the Bradley through a left turn.

They hadn’t gone far when Igor said something, adjusting his
periscope as he spoke.  A moment later the turret whined as he traversed it to
aim the chain gun to their rear.

“We’re being followed,” Irina translated.

Scott looked through the rear facing scope, adjusting the
optics to compensate for the rising sun.  “Two pickups.  Loaded with armed
men.”

“White or Indian?”  Joe asked quickly.

“White.  I think.  Hard to tell with the sun filter
engaged.”  Scott said after a minute of watching.

“Igor wants to know what you want to do.”  Irina said.  “He
thinks we should open fire and disable their vehicles.”

“No.  Hold fire.”  Scott said, thinking.  “They’re just
following, not doing anything aggressive.”

“Exactly what could they do against us that would be
aggressive?”  Rachel asked, trying hard to keep the note of sarcasm out of her
voice.

“More ahead,” Irina said before Scott could answer. 
“They’re not blocking the road, but they’re tracking us.  You sure you want
them following us to the airport?”

Scott didn’t answer.  He wasn’t sure what to do, having
never been placed in a position where he had to make the tough decision of
whether or not to be the first to engage in a fight.  Once the call was made he
was a fearsome warrior, but he was quickly learning that making the decisions
wasn’t nearly as easy as it had always appeared.  How the hell did the Major
make it seem so effortless?

“Stay on course,” he finally said.  “If they give us a
reason, we’ll do what we have to.”

“When we were on our way to the casino to get Katie, we had
to fight some local cops.”  Rachel said.  “They were scared and sure we had
some vaccine or a way to get some.  That may be what’s going on.”

Scott thought about what she said, then shook his head.  “We
wait until we have to fight.  They aren’t doing anything other than seeing what
we’re up to.”

Everyone stayed quiet, not arguing with him, but it was
clear they didn’t agree.  Irina held their speed steady down the perfectly
straight road.  They passed two more intersections where trucks loaded with men
watched them roll through.  Igor kept up a steady scan, routinely adjusting the
turret to send a message to the locals.

They made a right turn on Waverly, half a dozen heavily
loaded pickups trailing in their wake.  Two more trucks fell in behind them as
they approached the airport.  Everyone was tense, sweating as the armored
vehicle began to heat from the sun.  Scott and Igor were watching to their rear
when Irina suddenly swerved and began shouting curses in Russian.

There was a hard impact followed by a grinding sound all
along their right side.  Scott changed his view, cursing along with Irina when
he saw a civilian armored car driving next to them.  It had roared out of a
side street, striking the front corner of the Bradley before turning to drive
next to them as its driver tried to force them off the road.

Igor didn’t wait for orders, rotating the turret and firing
a long burst from the chain gun.  Civilian armored cars are well protected
against the armaments that criminals can get their hands on.  They aren’t even
close to being able to withstand military grade firepower. 

The 25 mm slugs tore through the thick skin of their
attackers’ vehicle and chewed up everything and everyone inside.  With a twitch
of the half-moon shaped steering wheel, Irina bumped the side of the armored
car and with no one left alive inside to steer, it was sent careening across
the street where it crashed into the front of a small donut shop.

Igor turned the gun back to the rear but the trucks had come
to a stop, watching them drive away.  He activated the chain gun again, putting
a short burst into the asphalt in front of the stopped pickups.  The pavement
was shredded, chunks breaking free and flying into the air.

“Cease fire,” Scott said.  “I think they got the message.”

Igor had already stopped firing, nodding when Irina
translated.

Marine Colonel James Pointere stood in a large open field
adjacent to a runway, facing most of the surviving members of the Marine
Expeditionary Unit.  He had just come from Colonel Crawford’s office where they
had discussed the few options that remained available to them.  Only one option,
was what Pointere had quickly realized.

Pointere wasn’t a speaker.  He knew that.  No rousing,
motivational speeches from him for his men.  Just a no bullshit assessment of
what they were facing.

“The infected are pressing in faster than expected,” he
began, shouting so that everyone could hear him.  His words were punctuated by
distant screams and gunfire as the Air Force and several Ranger platoons held
the perimeter.

“We’ve lost one of the crop dusters, and the rate at which
the locals are turning is accelerating.  There’s not enough time to completely
evacuate.  The second wave just left a couple of hours ago, which means six
hours until those aircraft are back and ready to start loading the third wave.”

He paused as a pair of F-15s roared down the runway to his
rear.  The two fighters leapt into the air, long tongues of flame behind them
as the pilots kept them at full afterburner.  They were still in sight when two
booms rattled every window on the base as they broke the sound barrier.

“That,” Pointere pointed in the direction the planes had
gone, “is a scientist on his way to a research facility.  There’s a plan to
fight the virus and defeat the infected.”

There was a murmur of excited voices and hopeful expressions
appeared throughout the assembled Marines.

“But that won’t happen fast or easy,” Pointere said
quickly.  “Not fast enough to save the people trying to evacuate from this
base.  That’s up to us.”

He began pacing, looking at the faces of all the Marines
staring back at him.  “There’s only one way these civilians are going to make
it onto planes and those planes get off the ground.  That’s if someone stays behind
and holds the infected back until the last wave is in the air.”

Pointere stopped, meeting the eyes of several men sitting in
the shade of a LAV.  Turning, he started retracing his steps until he was
centered in front of his men.

“Fox Company in Korea.  Khe Sanh in Vietnam.  Marines don’t
run.  We dig in and fight.  We hold the motherfucking ground that others
can’t!”  He roared as choruses of Oorah broke out, loud enough to drown out the
sounds of the battle at the fence.  With a grim expression on his face Pointere
held his hands up for silence.

“I’m asking for volunteers,” he said when the shouts died
down.  “I’m staying, but I’m not ordering anyone to stay with me.  Fighting men
will be needed in Nassau.  Anyone that wants to go, there’s room on the planes
in the last wave.  Each of you needs to decide.  I’ve made my decision, but I
won’t think less of anyone that chooses to evacuate.”

As if coordinated, every single Marine in the field got to
his feet and came to attention.  After a moment a grizzled First Sergeant took
one step forward and snapped up a salute.

“Sir!”  He shouted in a booming, parade ground voice. 
“Request permission for the men of the 20
^th
Marine Expeditionary
Unit to join you in defense of this installation.  Sir!”

Pointere stood there, looking across the ranks of his
Marines, pride threatening to burst his chest.  With tears forming in his eyes
he snapped to attention and shouted, “Permission granted, First Sergeant!”  He
returned the salute and was reaching up to wipe his eyes when there was a shout
from his left.

“Sir!  Request permission for the men of the 5
^th
Battalion, 75
^th
Ranger Regiment to join you in defense of this
installation.  Sir!”  Captain Blanchard, leading five hundred Rangers stood at
attention, holding a salute.

Pointere looked at the Ranger Captain, smiled as he turned
to fully face him before responding and returning the salute.  Stepping forward
he extended his hand, Blanchard shaking it.

“All your men know we’re not getting out of here?”  He asked
in a low voice.

“With all due respect, sir, we just couldn’t let you Jar
Heads have all the fun.”  Blanchard answered.

Pointere laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, turning
and calling over a Marine Captain to introduce the two men.  Sending them on
their way to coordinate the integration of the Rangers with the Marines, he
looked around as NCOs began working to get the men organized and ready to
protect the base until the last civilian was in the air.

Noticing a Humvee sitting fifty yards away in the field, he
held up a hand to shield his eyes from the morning sun.  Recognizing Colonel
Crawford he walked over, the Colonel meeting him half way.

“Every single one of my Marines is staying behind,” Pointere
said, pride obvious in his voice.

“Not a bit surprised,” Crawford replied with a wry smile. 
“My Captain couldn’t be talked out of it.  I’m still not happy I let you talk
me out of it.”

“Forget it, Jack.”  Pointere said, fishing around in a cargo
pocket.  Finding what he was looking for he pulled out two cigars, handing one
to Crawford.  “These people are going to need you to survive when they get to
Nassau.  Who the hell else is going to take charge?”

The conversation paused as the two men got their cigars
lit.  Crawford drew on his, exhaling with a satisfied sigh.  “I know, I know. 
I don’t have to like it; I just have to do it.  Right?” 

“That’s what I’ve heard a certain thick headed grunt of my
acquaintance say a few times.”  Pointere moved so he could watch his men
preparing as they talked.

“We’re leaving the Ospreys with you,” Crawford said.  “Get
as many men on them as you can after we get the last of the civvies out.  They
won’t make the Bahamas, but if you head that way I can send a C-130 to pick you
up.  Maybe in Alabama or Georgia somewhere.”

“Pipe dream, Jack.  You know as well as I do that won’t
happen.  Maybe the pilots, once there’s no longer a reason for them to stay in
the area, but none of us on the ground are going to make it.  I accept that. 
Have made peace with it.  You just get all these fucking people out of here. 
We’ll buy you as much time as we can.”  Pointere said.

They stood there for a long time, not saying anything, just
watching the fighting men prepare for the coming battle.  Weapons were being
checked.  Ammunition was being distributed.  Vehicles were being gone over to
make sure there wouldn’t be a problem at a critical moment.

“Jim, it’s been an honor.”  Crawford finally said, turning,
coming to attention and raising a salute to the Marine Colonel.

Pointere returned the salute then the two men shook hands. 
After a long moment Crawford turned and started walking to the waiting Hummer,
cigar smoke trailing in his wake.