V Plague (Book 11): Merciless (16 page)

“Fuck me,” I said.

There were several hundred figures moving amongst the stalled cars, heading directly for us.  Females were in front, but there were plenty of males bringing up the rear.  The leading edge was less than half a mile away.  We didn’t have much time.

While I was up there, I spun a slow circle, not happy at all to see another group of nearly the same size approaching from the opposite direction.  They were slightly farther away, but we were about to get caught between two small herds of infected.

Jumping down, I ran to the truck Long was using to batter a path to the exit and hopped up on the driver’s side running board so my head was level with the open window.  He stepped on the brake and came to a stop when I appeared next to him.

“Two good sized herds coming,” I said.  “Keep clearing us a path and stay in this thing.  We’ll follow in the Caddy.”

He nodded and I jumped down, shouting for Rachel and Irina to get into the SUV.  Johnson ran to join his buddy in the truck.  Long was doing a good job of clearing the way, but it was a slow process.  He would push a smaller vehicle a few feet, then it would contact the one in front and come to a stop.  Patiently, he would back up slightly to get a new attack angle and push again, turning the car sideways.  Repeating the process, a path to the exit began to appear.

But it didn’t open up quickly enough.  Infected females began arriving before we made it half way across the traffic lanes.  The Cadillac was quickly surrounded, fists pounding on the windows as they screamed their frustration in not being able to reach us.  They also swarmed the truck, piling up on the large platform behind the cab and lining both running boards.  Long ignored them, continuing to work.

“How many did you see when we flew over the air base?”  Irina asked from the backseat.

“A lot,” I said.

“How are we going to pull this off?”  Rachel asked, leaning away from the assault on her side of the vehicle.

“Same way we always do,” I said, driving forward a few feet.  “We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

Neither of them seemed terribly satisfied with that answer, but they kept their opinions to themselves.

20

“Sir?  Sir!  Admiral!”

Packard’s eyes finally came open and he looked around, groggy from too little sleep.  He’d lain down on the large leather sofa in his office, intending to only rest for a few minutes.  Raising his left arm, he peered at his watch and realized he’d been asleep for nearly three hours.  Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and glared at one of his aides.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, the Russians are up to something.”

“Lieutenant, I strongly suspect that when you attended Annapolis, you were not trained to describe enemy activity as
something
.  Now, what the hell is going on?”

“Sorry, sir,” the man said, tentatively holding a steaming cup of coffee out for the Admiral.  “We’re seeing activity from the enemy.  Fourteen large passenger liners have set sail from Russian ports, much of their remaining navy escorting them.  There is also activity in the Midwest.  Troops moving into previously unoccupied military installations.”

Packard sipped the coffee and got to his feet with a groan.

“What bases?”  He asked, heading for the door.

“Offutt in Nebraska and Wright-Patterson in Ohio, sir.”

Those two names caused the Admiral to pull up short and look at his aide.

“That’s not good,” he said.  “Offutt is home to USSTRATCOM, and WP has a huge research and development facility.”

He was referring to the United States Strategic Command, replacement for the Cold War’s Strategic Air Command.

“Yes, sir.  Both also have a large inventory of special weapons.”

He meant thermonuclear warheads.

“I’m all too aware,” Packard snapped, turning and striding so fast the younger man struggled to keep pace.  “I’m going to the CIC.”

“Yes, sir,” the aide said, dashing ahead of the Admiral’s protective detail.

It was a short walk to the CIC, and despite the urgency, Packard took a quick detour outside to have a cigarette and clear the last of the sleep induced cobwebs from his head.  The six Marines who were responsible for his personal safety spread out in a large bubble as he lit up.

Standing in the afternoon sunshine, the Admiral gazed down at the beautiful waters of Pearl Harbor.  It was warm and humid, but a gentle trade wind was blowing, providing just the right amount of relief.  Part of him wanted to stay right where he was, but until the damn Russians were finally taken care of, there was no time to rest.

Stripping the cherry off the end of the smoke, he shoved the butt into his pocket and headed for the CIC.  Located below ground, it was built to resemble the CIC on an aircraft carrier, only much larger to accommodate the scope of responsibility he had over hundreds of ships and tens of thousands of sailors and Marines.

“Talk to me, Captain,” he barked as he breezed through the doors into the subterranean room.

“Sir,” the duty officer turned and walked up to him.  “Within the past thirty minutes, we’ve seen significant activity out of the Russians.  Troops within North America have begun moving into Offutt and Wright-Patterson.  We’re monitoring, but at this point can only guess at their motivations.”

“What about the ships that have put to sea?”  The Admiral asked.

“Fourteen cruise ships have sailed from Russian ports in the past hour.  These are the big ones.  Several thousand passengers each.  They are forming up into convoys, escorted by their navy.  There are also six, heavily laden container ships accompanying them.”

“Exodus?”  Packard queried.

“It appears so, sir,” the Captain confirmed.  “The wealthy and powerful.  The political elite.  And their families.  They are fleeing the devastation of our attacks and the release of the nerve agent over Russian cities.  This has to have been planned well in advance.  They’ve sailed too soon after our bombardment.”

“Agreed.  So, where are they headed?”

“Too early to extrapolate a course, sir.  They are still sorting themselves out as the convoys are formed.  However, there’s only one logical destination.  Australia.”

Packard looked at the man with raised eyebrows.

“That would certainly explain why the Aussies were spared, wouldn’t it?”  Packard mused.

“Yes, sir.  It would.”

“What does Australia have to defend itself?”

“They should be more than capable of preventing the Russians from landing, sir.  Their military resources are fairly substantial and modern.  I’ll have a detailed report for you within the hour.”

Packard nodded, staring at a large monitor that displayed a satellite image of the Russian ships at sea.

“Do the Aussies know they’re coming?”

“We’re providing them with access to our imagery and intelligence, sir.  They are preparing.  Attempts are being made to communicate with the flotilla, but the Russians are not responding to us.”

“I don’t like it, Captain,” Packard said after a long pause.  “The Russians haven’t done anything without first ensuring they would have the upper hand.  And as you say, this was planned well in advance of our strikes.  A contingency, in case things went bad.  So what does that tell you?”

“Tells me they think they have a way to convince the Australians to not resist, sir.”

Packard nodded.

“What’s our capability to interdict the fleet?”

“Very limited, sir,” the Captain said, tapping the screen on a tablet and looking at a report.  “We inflicted catastrophic damage to their navy and air force in addition to civilian targets, but we lost a lot of resources in the process.  We are severely degraded.”

“I’ve seen the reports, Captain.  I want a battle plan on my desk within an hour.  If it floats or flies, use it.  I’ll be damned if the Russian elite that’s most responsible for the end of the world is going to just relocate to a warm, sunny beach in the land down under.”

“Yes, sir,” the Captain said.  “If that’s all, I need to get my staff started.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

He was surprised when he looked around and Jessica was standing a few feet away.  Reflexively, he smiled at the young woman.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I overheard part of your conversation, and there’s something you should know.  Major Chase is in Nebraska, and he’s got a partial platoon of Rangers and a bunch of Canadian military with him.  They’re right next to Offutt Air Force Base, sir.”

“That’s the first good news I’ve gotten all day,” Packard said.  “Any way to contact them?”

“No sir,” Jessica shook her head.  “They’re EM silent.  I’m guessing they’ve stopped for fuel.  I was tracking them after they left Ellesmere Island, and they diverted around a huge Arctic storm.  Probably burned a lot of fuel, and had to land.  They flew over Offutt but there’s debris on the runway from a crash, so they touched down at the commercial airport north of Omaha.  The last I saw, the Major and a small group were on their way to Offutt.  I checked with some of our pilots, and they are guessing they’re going for a fuel truck.  No power at the civilian field, so no way to pump from the underground tanks.”

“How many Russians are they facing?”

“Five Hinds, fully loaded, put down at Offutt.  And I don’t think the Major knows they’re there, sir.  But I don’t think the Russians are aware of them, either.  They approached from a different direction, and the enemy doesn’t have an AWACS in the area, so they probably didn’t see the Major’s plane.”

“Keep trying to find a way to warn them, Seaman,” Packard said.  “And be sure Captain Teller knows what you just told me.”

“Yes, sir,” Jessica came to attention before turning and rushing back to her station.

“Admiral.”  Packard turned his attention to a Chief Petty Officer manning a comms console.  “Call for you, sir.  It’s the Australian Prime Minister.”

Packard’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  Since the attacks, he had routinely spoken with his counterparts in the Australian military, but this would be the first time with any of that nation’s political leadership.

“In there,” he said, gesturing at a small office at the side of the room.

He stepped through the door, his aide following and closing it softly behind them.  The Admiral dropped into a chair and lifted the handset of a secure phone.

“Mr. Prime Minister,” he greeted the caller.

 “Admiral, very good to speak with you.  To start, I’d like to apologize.  I’ve been remiss in thanking you personally for providing us with the vaccine.  Australia owes you a great debt.”

“Thank you, sir.  But no thanks are necessary.  I believe, at this point, we’re all in this together.”

“Quite,” the PM said after a moment.  “Very good.  Before we begin, may I ask the status of your leadership?”

“My leadership?”  Packard asked, not understanding the question.

“Civilian leadership, Admiral.  I have been briefed on the situation with your presidential line of succession.  What I’m asking is, who is currently in command of the United States.”

“I suppose I am, sir,” the Admiral responded cautiously.  “At least the military, as I’m the ranking officer still alive.  We have been reduced to the survivors here in Hawaii and the local, elected officials are still in charge of the civilian population.  May I ask why you’re inquiring?”

“Because I need your assistance, Admiral.  I’ve just received a most disturbing call from President Barinov.”

Packard blinked in surprise, then his hands balled into fists.  They’d missed the son of a bitch!  He hadn’t been in the Kremlin when the Thor rods had destroyed it.

“I’m rather distressed to learn he’s still alive, Mister Prime Minister,” the Admiral said. 

Clapping his hand over the phone’s mouthpiece, he faced the aide standing attentively in front of him.

“Barinov just called the Aussie PM.  See if we intercepted and can locate the origin of the call,” he growled.

The aide nodded and dashed out the door.  Packard removed his hand from the phone to continue the conversation.

“…were quite surprised.”

The PM had been speaking while the Admiral was issuing the order.

“What was the purpose of his call?”  Packard picked up without missing a beat.

“To warn me against trying to stop a fleet of Russian ships that are sailing for Australia.  Their intent is to dock in Sydney, where a significant number of luxury homes and apartments are owned by Russian corporations.  Well over two thousand, in fact.”

“He’s not serious!”  The Admiral blurted.

“He’s quite serious,” the PM confirmed.  “And, he’s issued an ultimatum to ensure our cooperation in allowing him and his people into the country, unmolested.  And to provide them with protection from the United States.”

“What’s his leverage?”

“He informed me that all of our major cities are seeded with canisters of nerve gas.  If we do not allow the ships to dock, and the passengers to take up residence in Sydney, he will order the release of the agent in one city for every twenty-four hours we prevent their landing.  And, if you attack his fleet, he will immediately release the gas in Canberra.”

Packard leaned back in his chair, the handset gripped so tightly his fingers were turning white.

“What can I do, sir?  Can we assist in your search for the canisters?”

“There is no search, Admiral.  I was advised that each device is under constant, electronic surveillance and that if any attempts are made to locate of disable even one, then all of them in that city will be triggered.”

Packard was quiet for a moment, trying to think of a way around the problem.

“Do not attack the Russian fleet,” the PM continued after a few seconds of silence.  “I cannot allow that.”

“What exactly are you saying, Mister Prime Minister?”  Packard growled.

There was a brief silence, then the Admiral heard a deep sigh over the phone.

“I have ordered the Australian military to provide protection to the Russian fleet.  If American forces attempt to intervene, they will be fired upon.  By Australian forces.”

Packard was quiet for a long time, gathering his thoughts and marshaling his emotions.