Rolling Thunder - 03 (15 page)

Jackson stared out the windows at the darkness, thinking. 
He stood like that for a long time before turning back to me.  “I don’t believe
him, sir.  But I also don’t like not having any hard evidence.  He could be
telling the truth, regardless of what I think.  I can’t put a bullet in a man’s
head just because his story sounds like bullshit.”

“So what do we do with him?”  I asked, a sour taste in my
mouth.

“That’s why officers make the big bucks.  Sir.”

  I would have been more than happy to pull the trigger
based on what I knew about Roach.  As I thought about it, what the hell had he
been doing on the first floor close enough to an exit for me to rescue him from
an infected outside the building?  Flight operations had been on the opposite
end of the building and on the second floor.  That’s where he should have been,
along with his Security Forces airmen.  The son of a bitch had been running
then, trying to sneak away while people were dying.  With everything that had
been happening at the time I just hadn’t put it all together in my head. 

Air Force Security Forces Captain Lee Roach slowly replaced
the handset on the duty officer’s desk.  It was early evening and he was the
duty officer for the day, responsible for all Security Forces activities on
Arnold Air Force Base.  He had just received a call from the prissy little
Major running flight operations.  She was requesting armed Security Forces be
stationed inside flight ops, claiming that an Army Major had just informed her
that more people were becoming infected and she was concerned for her staff’s
safety.

He knew Major Masuka well, having pursued her romantically
despite their difference in rank.  It had taken him weeks but he’d finally
convinced her to have dinner with him, and the date had seemed to go well. 
Dinner had been pleasant and he was sure he had charmed her with his stories of
rousting drunk airmen out of local bars and brothels.  Driving to her quarters
he thought he’d picked up signals that he would be spending the night, but had
been firmly rebuffed when he put his hand on her shoulder and tried to kiss her
outside her door.  Not just rebuffed.  Humiliated.  The bitch!

Roach had not been a popular kid growing up in rural
Washington State.  He wasn’t good at sports, didn’t have a quick wit and wasn’t
anything special to look at, but he was very smart.  He usually blended into
the background unless being singled out by bullies for humiliation.  Raised by
a single mother who only had time for herself and her parade of boyfriends he
hadn’t had a nurturing family life to fall back on.  Roach was not smart like
the kids who scored high on their SATs and were destined for great lives, but
smart like a predator.  By the time he was a junior in high school he realized
that he fit the classic definition of a psychopath.  And that thrilled him.

He fantasized regularly about raping and killing the
popular, pretty girls that laughed at him when it was his turn to be publicly
humiliated by the bullies.  His favorite fantasy was to picture himself
standing in front of a classroom full of the worst bullies and the girls that
laughed the loudest and longest.  He wanted to see the fear on their faces as
he raised a gun and one by one shot each of them.  But despite being a
psychopath, Roach was practical and didn’t want to spend his life in a state
mental hospital or prison.  Instead he started searching for a path that would
give him the power and authority to punish those that he felt had wronged him,
and get away with it.

Mid-way through his senior year of high school he was
approached by an Air Force recruiter and immediately saw the opportunities the
military offered to someone like him.  He turned 18 a month before graduation
and the day after he didn’t walk across the stage to get his diploma, he
boarded a plane to Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas to start basic
military training.  The pretty blonde cheerleader that he had raped and
strangled the night before was never found in the rugged terrain of the Cascade
Mountains.

Basic had just been more of the same for Roach, who looked
on the instructors as bullies and used his well-honed survival skills to stay
off their radar as much as possible.  He had tested well when he took the ASVAB
– Armed Services Vocational Ability Battery – and had been allowed to choose
his MOS – Military Occupational Specialty.  He hadn’t hesitated to select
Security Forces, the Air Force Military Police.  What better way to be able to
act on his need to punish others than to be one of those who were supposed to
protect them. 

He was a good cop as far as having the right instincts about
the people he encountered in the line of duty, regularly impressing his
commanders with his abilities.  He was also a brutal cop.  Rarely did a suspect
or detainee come in to holding without having been subjected to some
strategically placed blows from Roach’s baton or steel toed boots.  He always
managed to get away with it, twice going before review boards after complaints
were filed, but always having a plausible justification for his actions.  Roach
was happy for a couple of years, but his anti-social behavior and reputation
for brutality had estranged him from fellow enlisted who he grew to dislike and
eventually despise as beneath him.

Night school paid for by the Air Force and a new six year
commitment and Roach became an officer, elevated above the enlisted personnel
to whom he felt superior.  No longer able to be the cop breaking up the fight
or dragging in the drunks, he refocused his needs on locals, always careful to
never kill anyone that was associated with the military.  Over the years,
bodies of the young, pretty women that Roach preferred were discovered in the
Louisiana swamps miles away from Barksdale Air Force Base, two beaches on
Okinawa far away from Kadena Air Base, and in Germany’s Black Forest well away
from Ramstein Air Base.  While the local civilian investigators may have
wondered about a connection to the US Military there was never even a hint of a
connection to the three sprawling bases that were deemed too far away from the
scene of the crimes to have any link.

He had only been at Arnold for a few months and despite
regular trips up to Nashville, which was flush with young, pretty women, he
hadn’t found the right one yet.  He was considering stepping up his game after
having been in a Honky Tonk on Broadway and seeing a couple of up and coming
country music stars.  They were well known locally but hadn’t made the national
scene yet and as a result went out on the town with just a few friends and no
security.  Roach had no illusions about ever being able to get close to a big,
nationally known star, but these young girls were making it on their looks and
their voices.  They weren’t smart enough to recognize they were already in
danger, which made them soft targets for someone like him.

Hand still on the phone he had just hung up, Roach let
himself fantasize about Major Masuka.  The pleasure he would feel as his hands
wrapped around her small neck.  Shaking the thought out of his head he shouted
for the Staff Sergeant that sat outside his office, issuing orders to get some
men in full gear over to flight operations.  With any of the other officers
over him the Sergeant would have asked for specifics about why they were
needed, but he knew from experience that it would be pointless to ask Captain
Roach.  He just acknowledged the order and got on the radio to three of his
best men who were out on patrol near the flight line.

It was only a few minutes later when the first emergency
calls for help started coming in from all over the base.  The Sergeant was
doing his best to answer them as quickly as he could, Roach standing in the
doorway to his office listening to the growing chaos.  There had been several
airmen in the office suite working on arrest paperwork, but they had already
been sent out by the Sergeant as the number of calls quickly exceeded the
number of cops in the field.  Roach and the Sergeant were alone.

The Sergeant was reaching for the radio when he suddenly
stopped, grabbed his head in pain and fell out of the chair onto the shiny tile
floor.  Roach’s only response was to place his hand on his holstered side arm
and watch as the man writhed in pain for a few moments before finally going
still.  The calm only lasted a brief time before the man snarled and sat up,
swiveling his head around.  Roach calmly drew his pistol, stepped close and
shot the Sergeant in the head. 

He had read the reports that had been coming in over the
past couple of weeks and knew what was happening in the world.  Knew what
impact this would have on survivors and now it was happening here.  Like the
predator he was, Roach saw the golden opportunity he had to satisfy his needs
without worry of being discovered.  Hell, no one was going to look twice at a
body any longer.  He wouldn’t even have to worry about disposing of them after
he’d had his fun.  Smiling, Roach walked out of the offices and climbed into a
Security Forces Humvee, starting the engine as he thought about where he should
go.  He was done with the Air Force.

But one debt needed to be paid first.  Masuka.  The bitch
had rejected him, acted like he was beneath her.  He’d show her the grave
mistake she’d made, then be on his way.  In the confusion of the outbreak, he’d
be able to pull her aside into an office or stairwell where he’d introduce her
to the Japanese steel dagger strapped to his forearm underneath his uniform. 
It wouldn’t be as satisfying as making her submit to him sexually, holding the
gleaming blade to her throat while he thrust into her, but it was better than
walking away without answering her disrespect.

Roach pulled out of the parking area and headed for flight
operations on the far side of the base.  As he drove he started seeing infected
males wearing Air Force uniforms shambling about and ran down a couple of
females that charged the Hummer.  His desire to kill Masuka momentarily wavered
as the numbers of infected increased the further he drove, but the need to mete
out punishment outweighed the instinct for self-preservation.

The drive to flight operations took ten minutes, Roach
parking in the front parking lot by the main entrance.  Stepping out of the
Humvee, he trotted up the steps and to the double glass security doors but
changed direction at the last minute when he saw infected roaming the hallway
inside the building.  At the rear, facing the flight line was a single, steel
door that the pilots used and Roach ran around the building, keeping a close
eye out for any infected.  As he pulled the door open he heard the heavy thump
of a helicopter coming in for a landing, but instead of turning to see who it
was he slipped inside the building and pulled the door shut behind him. 

Moving quietly down the empty hall Roach hadn’t gone far
when from deeper in the building a rifle started firing on full auto and
moments later was joined by a second.  When the rifle had sounded he had paused
in front of an open office door and the infected that stumbled into the hallway
to investigate the noise ran directly into him and wrapped him up in its arms. 
Roach started struggling to break the grip of the male, nearly getting his throat
torn out when he hesitated upon recognizing Brigadier General Samuels, the base
commander. 

The hesitation passed as quickly as it had come and Roach
twisted, trying to break the grip of the infected General as he backpedaled
towards the exit door to the flight line.  Roach was a very physical man when
it came to inflicting pain on those he had at a disadvantage, but he wasn’t any
good against an opponent that had no fear of him.  Still scrambling, they
reached the door and it burst open as Roach’s back struck it.  They tripped
over the threshold and fell to the ground outside the door and started rolling
on the ground. 

The General was on top of him and his lips and teeth were
pressed to the side of Roach’s neck, just above his carotid artery, when the
infected’s head was violently knocked to the side.  The body immediately went
limp on top of him and a moment later the weight came off his chest as the
infected was lifted and tossed aside and Roach found himself looking up at the
big fucker that had escaped from Atlanta and flown into Arnold the night
before.  The same guy that had humiliated him.  He reached down, grabbed
Roach’s hand and yanked him up onto his feet.  Christ, the guy was strong.  He
was also now in uniform and wearing Major’s oak leaves.

“You’re on me.”  He said, turning and running to the steel
door.

He pulled the door open, raised his rifle to the ready
position and entered the building.  Not sure why he was following, Roach fell
in behind him and softly closed the door.  The hallway was still empty and the
sound of automatic rifle fire continued from the far end of the building. 
Drawing his pistol, Roach moved to within a few feet of the man.  Looking at
the back of his shaved head, Roach raised the pistol as the man paused and peered
around a doorway into an office.  One round in the back of the head and out the
door.  Never mind Masuka.  Roach just wanted out of there.

Before he could pull the trigger the man disappeared around
the corner into the office.  Curious, Roach poked his head around in time to
see him pull a vicious looking combat machete and ram it into the back of the
neck of a male infected, nearly decapitating the body.  He did it so
effortlessly that Roach experienced a visceral thrill just from watching. 
Pulling his head back he lowered the pistol into a two handed, low ready
position and scanned the hall to make sure there weren’t any more infected
sneaking up on him.  He was briefly startled when he looked back to his left
and the man was standing in the hallway again, silently closing the office
door.  How the hell did someone so big move so quietly?

The rifles that had been firing had fallen silent as they
moved down the hall.  The big man cleared two more offices before closing their
doors, then they were at the stairs that led up to the flight operations
center.  With his rifle up the man led the way, aiming up the stairwell as he
climbed.  At the landing he fired a burst that killed a screaming female
infected who tumbled down the steps and crashed into the wall.  Roach would
have been knocked down by the falling body if he hadn’t jumped out of the way
at the last second.

They climbed the rest of the way up, stepping over more
infected bodies at the top of the stairs and nearly getting shot when some
jackass fired through the double wooden doors that led into the operations
center.  The man shouted out that they were friendlies and after a moment he
carefully pushed through the doors into the room where he was greeted by the
fucking dog and the bitch that had flown in with him from Atlanta.  She was
Roach’s type, but not young enough.  He liked them in their teens or early
twenties unless he was in the mood to dispense justice.  In that case, age didn’t
matter, and she was another bitch that deserved it.  She had mocked him the
previous night when that fucking Army Colonel had intervened while Roach and
his men were trying to disarm them as they got off the plane.