Payload (16 page)

Shouldering his M-4 as the chopper’s interior exploded into an inferno and flames engulfed the front end of the truck, he set the doughnut on the front door just as a shirtless man carrying a rifle charged out, shooting him twice center mass and then putting a bullet through each of the windows, rapid fire.

As he ran into the underbrush the gunfire started behind him, and it did not stop until he was a half mile away.

The east was brightening when Gnomehome picked him up. “These CBs are pretty useful,” JD observed from behind the wheel as the Ranger swung himself on board. “Man, you look like hell.”

“Nothing a shower won’t fix.” Marv tossed Bear the damp binder. “Let’s get rolling west-I highlighted the general route in the atlas. The reason they knew where to go is that they know what we are driving, and they had a helicopter.”

“They ‘had’?” Dyson made air quotes.

“Yeah, some bad luck with a gas can and a road flare took it out of the picture. The bad news is these guys are well organized, and that’s not their only team in the area-I got a look at a situation map, but couldn’t steal it.”

“How did they know what we’re driving?” Bear asked, thumbing through the binder.

“Berlin. There’s a security camera picture of me standing at the pumps refueling. They knew we were on I-75, and given the terrain and conditions Berlin was a pretty obvious choice, especially since they figured I would head straight for the nearest military establishment. There wasn’t much traffic, so even if they didn’t have a clear picture of us as individuals it wouldn’t take much to figure out which one we were.”

“Why would they have any idea of what we looked like?”

“If they had a spotter coordinating the zed release from the Wal Mart truck and the pick-up doing the exfiltration of the Wal Mart guys, he could have gotten a look at us, or even just our vehicle. Probably he noticed the guy in ACUs shooting up the interior of the pickup.” Marv didn’t want to bring up the fact of his initial communications being compromised.

“Well, they definitely know what Gnomehome looks like,” Dyson observed, passing the binder to Addison. “Should we ditch it?”

“I don’t want to lose the time,” Marv shook his head. “Without the bird it’s not a problem until we reach the Mississippi River. Even if they steal or get another bird into the area, it’s not that uncommon an RV.”

“Pictures from the Net,” Addison mumbled, holding up the binder. “Commercial photos, except the one of you. We just change the outside a little, make it look less new.”

“Good idea.” Marv got his other ACU out of the dryer. “I’m heading for the shower. Oh, here, I picked up some more gear last night.” 

The shower lifted some of the strain from his shoulders. He wondered if the sentry had died, but drove the thought away. This was war, same as Afghanistan, and everyone choses a side and lives or dies by that decision. That kid was part of the team that set infected subjects loose on the Mighty Quinn and I-75, and that meant there was no point in ‘what-ifs’.

Bathed, he put on clean ACU bottoms and clean socks and dialed the board-mounted sat phone, wincing at the memory of Doc being hammered backwards by the incoming fire. The little goober had been a pain at times but he stood up when his country and his fellow man needed him, and there was a great deal to be said for that. Sitting on the toilet lid, every scrape and bruise aching, Marv suspected that more Gnomes, and especially himself, would be seeing the short madman again soon.

Colonel Nelson picked up on the third ring, sounding weary. “Nelson.”

“Fastbox Two, sir. We’re rolling west. We got hit in an RV park around midnight, zeds and a ground attack. We got clear, but we lost two members of the team KIA. The payload is secure.”

“FASA?”

“Yes, sir. They got our vehicle description from where we gassed up in Berlin, and used a light helicopter to shadow us. We killed at least two of them, and I recovered some intel off one of them which led me to a bar they were using as a base. I destroyed the helicopter, and wounded two more. Colonel, these people are well-equipped and fairly disciplined.”

“Good work, Sergeant,” Colonel Nelson hesitated. “We know they’re good-they have raised havoc all over the country.”

“When can I expect a link-up, sir? These guys I’m with are willing, but they’re out of their league. I signed on for this, but I really don’t like leading civilians to their deaths. Sir.”

The officer was silent for a moment. “Sergeant, there’s no good way to tell you this. FASA killed the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs last night, and they’ve gotten a half-dozen members of Congress and a couple Cabinet members as well. We’re purging the military and Secret Service of infiltrators and turncoats, but there is a massive demand for everything, and especially for personnel with clearances that ensure they are outside of FASA control.”

“Colonel, all I need is one chopper and one guy to hand off the payload.”

“A chopper crew who is absolutely non-FASA and dedicated,” Colonel North said quietly. “You’re the five million dollar man, Sergeant. That’s what FASA is offering for you-it went out on the Net not long after midnight. Five million scoots’ worth of gold and ten inoculations for the flu is the reward for your payload.”

Marv stared at the shower doors. “Sir, there’s no inoculation, at least not from FASA.”

“Well, you and I know that, but in desperate times people do desperate things. You’ve already seen that with the Coast Guard crew.”

The Ranger sighed. “I see your point, sir. All it would take is one dumbass. Are you sure that I can’t just torch the damned can?”

“Absolutely. The initial reports are extremely positive from the lab work on Fastbox One’s sample. With your material they say we will be able to accelerate progress. An inoculation is a long ways down the pipeline, but they’re saying an immediate counteragent is possible, and soon. Our entire inventory of atropine auto-injectors for chemical warfare is being assembled and prepped for re-deployment as we speak.”

“Counteragent, sir?”

“If you’re bitten or otherwise exposed and can get the counteragent into play fast enough, you live. As in, remain uninfected. In any case, a helicopter is not a viable option for at least six hours, probably more. I’ll contact you when I have a confirmed event window.”

“Sounds good, sir. We’re keeping on with the mission, sir. My battery is fading, so I’ll sign off. I’ll contact you again at eighteen hundred, or sooner if I have something to report.”

“Good luck, Sergeant.”

Marv slumped against the toilet tank. Things just kept getting worse. He was tired, beat-up, and fed up. Uncle Sugar certainly wasn’t living up to his end of the contract. “Deb, I don’t think I’m gonna get out of this one,” he whispered to himself.

Hooking up the battered sat phone to the trickle charger Doc had rigged up, Marv moved to the center of the RV’s main area. “Guys, I got some news: FASA put a bounty on our heads. Big money, enough so we have a double reason to avoid contact with any organized group. They’re promising payment in gold and inoculations, which means anyone trying to cash in will be zombies in the next terror attack.”

“Anyway, anyone who wants out will be dropped off at the next place we pass where they can find a ride, no hard feelings. I’m gonna need to keep the RV-I still need to complete my mission. I know things are a lot rougher than any of you expected when you signed on, and losing Doc and Captain Jack should be a wake-up call. FASA wants the Yard Gnomes dead.”

“You’re supposed to draw a line in the dirt with a sword,” Bear grinned. “The one time that damn katana would have been useful, and it’s not here. Anyway, I’m in. Those bastards cost me my hog.”

“I’m in,” Addison mumbled.

“I fight for country,” Brick thumped his chest. “FASA can kiss ass.”

“Doc and Captain Jack…they weren’t really what they said they were, but they were good men,” Dyson said slowly. “I can’t walk away without feeling like I’m betraying them. I’ll see the job done”

“I’m not a quitter,” JD said from the driver’s seat. “And those bastards owe me for a Cadillac and the worst trip of my life, just for starters.”

“I was scared shitless
before
you told me there was a bounty on you guys,” Chip said unhappily. “I doubt I’m much good at any of this.” The heavy young man rubbed his scraggly beard. “But they set fire to that trailer just for a diversion. They’ve been killing people for…I dunno what for. I don’t
care
what for. Like Brick said, they can kiss my huge white butt. If you think I can help, I’m in, dude.”

“I’m glad to be serving with you guys,” Marv said, and was mildly surprised to realize he meant it. “Unless anyone objects, I’m going to grab some Zs. Let’s keep at least two plus the driver awake at all times, and our eyes peeled. We need fuel, food, and firepower, the three Fs.”

“Take the bed, I put clean sheets on it,” Chip stood. “I’ll get the laundry going. I don’t mind being one of the ones to stay up-I couldn’t sleep if I tried.”

Doctor Davenport studied the reports coming in. They should have had the sample by now, but apparently the brutes had fought their way out of that absurd RV park despite a massive expenditure of resources employed in the attack. They had left behind at least two of these ‘Gnomes’, both deceased, and it was no surprise that both were part of the trio who had escaped from the mental institution. However lacking his organization might be in the application of force, their data collection was first-rate.

How had they escaped? The plan seemed perfect enough: fires to create confusion, a release of infected subjects, followed by a surgical strike by seizure team of four professionals to recover the sample itself.

Instead, the Gnomes had escaped, even taking one of the seizure team captive. Nor had their meddling ended there-they had assaulted the base camp for District 12’s assets in the immediate region, destroying a helicopter. The latter meant the Gnomes had been able to flee the area unobserved.

His aide entered the command room. “Doctor, additional data.”

“Proceed, Mr. Weatherford.”

“Photo analysis has identified two more of the men from the security camera footage taken at Berlin. File 112, sir.”

Cyrus brought up the information. “I see.”

“They have recruited two members at some point along the way, along with a second vehicle. The recon team found this vehicle, which was crippled in the break-out, and found the body of the missing seizure team member there as well. From papers found in the truck we have identified the two new recruits.”

“So we have confirmed there are still seven?”

“Yes, sir.”

The doctor stroked his fingertips. “So, this ‘Yard Gnome Action Team’ consists of one soldier, an escapee from a mental institution, a pro wrestling promotion agent, a criminal of the biker variety, an overweight slacker, a recent immigrant from Poland, and one unidentified subject?”

“As of our last data, yes, sir.”

“Really-a group of misfits, rejects, mental midgets and society’s dross-how are they still wandering about?”

“They are fairly competent at violence, sir. That’s not a higher brain function.”

“True.” Cyrus moved data around on his screens. “Still, we need that sample.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And please speak, Mr. Weatherford. Do not withhold your opinion.”

“Sir, I think we may be…underestimating this group.”

The Doctor tapped the arm of his chair before answering. “The course of recent events sustains your point. Do you have a conclusion?”

“Not fully sir, more of an assembly of uncomfortable facts. This soldier has a proven career in Afghanistan, albeit as an enlisted man. The surviving escapee is troubling-he not only escaped, but he also removed or corrupted every bit of his personal data on file at the institution before leaving. We don’t even have a valid identity for him. Everything about him suggests…training in some sort of covert activity. It’s as if he was deliberately living his life off the grid.”

“Likely just another homeless person cluttering up the urban landscape.”

“Except that he checked himself in voluntarily, and paid for his treatment, sir.”

Cyrus sat up. “Really.” He found the dossier and pulled it up on the center screen. “Why would a man check into a facility, and then mount an elaborate escape effort? He could have walked out at any time.”

“Exactly, sir. This makes me wonder…are we really looking at a random group of subjects thrown together by events? We have two highly trained subjects identified so far. My speculation is that we may be looking at a decoy operation, a highly developed team intended to draw attention away from the real Fastbox Two.”

The doctor studied the screens. “Assign a member of the staff to extract all possible data on these subject’s backgrounds and prepare a seizure plan. A Tier One staffer. Have someone else double-check all our previous sources to ensure that we know where the real Fastbox Two is.”

“Yes, sir. What should I tell the tactical commander?”

“Re-assign him and his surviving assets. There are only two bridges across the Mississippi into Arkansas, so bring the teams covering them up to speed. The mouse may be free, but we know where he is going.”