Vampire's Day (Book 2): Zero Model (11 page)

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Authors: Yuri Hamaganov

Tags: #Post-Apocalyptic | Vampires

BOOK: Vampire's Day (Book 2): Zero Model
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43.
Temporary shelter

 

The civilians were taken to a military base, but were not allowed enter it or wander around. The Colonel planned to keep the refugees alone in a tent camp near the runway.

The engineers had installed a neat row of large tents. Unloading was much faster than loading – the column of refugees went into the camp through a few checkpoints, where they were searched for weapons. As they passed through, each received a plastic bracelet with an individual chip on their left arm, which defined their place in a numbered tent and provided them a portion of food and water in the common dining room.

Boris had already been released after his identification and, like everyone else, received a bracelet on his arm. He decided to spend his free time before dinner learning about their new home.

To the right, behind the wire fence, extended a concrete runway. At the far end of the runway was a control tower, next to which stood a Hercules C-130; he could see the protective covers on the engines.

Beyond the runway was a helipad filled with some Black Hawks, and then barracks. Boris saw the port hangars, a few motionless cranes and a small piece of the ocean. And also a strange object that seemed to be alien in this coordinated, harmonious picture - a set of unknown purpose, built of a dozen container boxes interconnected by inflatable transitions. Something unusual was in this building, and a few seconds later, Boris knew what. Bright fresh paint, that was what gave him the clue.

The sun mercilessly fried the ground here all year, and even resistant paint faded quickly under its rays, in addition to being exposed to the effects of frequent dust storms. All that he had seen here had faded, but these modules shone with new colors, like Lego blocks the first time out of the box. It was built recently. Boris couldn’t prove it, but it was almost certain that the appearance of a strange toy town on a military base and the fighting in the valley was somehow connected. But how?

After watching the military base for a few minutes, Boris turned around and went in the opposite direction, to the far edge of the tent camp, where a lot of other neighbors had already gathered. Before them stretched the valley - open rocky wasteland, followed by green fields of weed. High mountains rose like a wall, jagged peaks propping up the cloudless blue sky. On the highest peak was a gleaming cap of snow.

Over the fields here and there rose blackened columns of smoke. Wire entanglement is much more powerful than on the other side, just behind the wire fences, Hammer moving slowly on country road. Beyond the road were metal pylons, with yellow plates, and black stenciled lettering showing "Danger - mine!" Jolly Roger grinned in an eternal smile.

“Boris.”

This was Natasha. She had just been released, and the first thing she’d done was rush to look for her companion - after the events of the morning, it seemed like the right thing to do.

“Where have you been all this time?”

“I was being held for polite questioning.”

“What did they ask?”

“Who I was, where I came from, what I’m doing here, things like that. They asked about what happened on the road. And they asked about you. I’m sorry, but I told them everything. I was very scared.”

“You did the right thing, otherwise they would have repeated the questions, except not so politely. Don’t worry - you still don’t know anything substantial. Did they tell you anything about what's going on here?”

“No, they just repeated the message about terrorists again and ordered me not to leave this place.”

“Did they returned you your passport?”

“Yes, but what about tickets…”

Boris made a sign to shut up; he looked at a Black Hawk that flew over the base. The helicopter was landing, but not on the helipad; instead very close to the toy town.

“Pardon me, madam,” Boris muttered and grabbed a small pair of binoculars from the woman standing next to him in spite of her protests. Through the binoculars he could see soldiers, who pulled out a few people with black bags over their heads and quickly dragged them into the nearest unit. The soldiers wore protective suits and gas masks.

44. The Last of the Mohicans

 

In his homeland tradition was appreciated, as was persistence. Because of this sons and grandsons continued the glorious deeds of their fathers and grandfathers, so Nguyen didn’t see any other life than to follow in the footsteps of his father. His father was a pilot and he would be a pilot.

The first time he took off, when he was thirteen, he flew a UH1, which was so old that it still remembered Americans and their stooges fleeing from Saigon in 1975. The old Huey belonged to his father’s tiny airline even before Nguyen’s birth, and served as his main and favorite toy during his childhood. He knew this chopper from the tip of the blade to the skids, and from the first time he flew he didn’t feel the slightest fear. He was in his place, he knew what to do.

After some time, he worked as his father’s co-pilot, mastering several types of helicopters, as well as learning to fly light airplanes. They had to work in different countries, and eventually came to the rapidly growing metropolises of southeast Asia just on the night that there was a fire in a luxury hotel, which entered the history of world catastrophes.

A skyscraper was on fire in the city center, and the flames quickly grew, forcing the hotel guests to run higher and higher, until they were trapped on the roof. Not thinking twice, his father raised his favorite Iroquois in the air, and made three short flights to the roof, snatching from the fire trap nearly four dozen people.

When he came to the fourth landing, the roof began to collapse, and people rushed to the helicopter all at once, mad with fire, sweeping past several firefighters who tried to keep order and stop the panic. Nguyen saw the Huey falling, the engine unable to cope with the excess weight.

After the funeral, Nguyen returned home for a short time, with the firm intention to make changes in the way the company worked. Transportation and passenger flights, as well as rescue operations, were in the past; now they would focus on the increasingly popular private military business. His father, a former North Vietnamese Air Force pilot, was opposed to this sort of work, but he was dead, and Nguyen looked to develop the business further.

Much later, Nguyen often recalled his choice, wondering if his reason for doing it was due to sober financial calculations, supporting a new profitable business, or whether he really wanted to go to war, and risk all, the way his father had in his time.

Selling most of the former fleet, ground objects and part of the shares, he purchased four military transport MI17, and then acquired for personal use the machine of his dreams - a heavy assault MI24. The helicopter was upgraded with the latest innovations: updated avionics for night flying, a double-barreled gun turret and the newest anti-tank missiles.

A one-legged Russian pilot with a burnt face, who had three hundred combat missions in Afghanistan and Chechnya, taught him how to fly Crocodile. Nguyen studied carefully, learning all details of how to fly the helicopter. Soon he was able to apply this knowledge in practice.

His private squadron was hired to participate in the undeclared war that two African States had launched over a disputed archipelago. The archipelago was just a series of cliffs, protruding from the sea, only the largest of which could be called habitable. There was no permanent population, but local fishermen and smugglers periodically stopped here. They built a shelter of a few rusty containers, and sometimes spent the night there or during bad weather, never stopping for more than a day, due to the lack of fresh water on the island. For a long time no one was interested in these rocks except fishermen, but then geologists found oil on the shelf and the status of the archipelago rose sharply - if someone could make the archipelago their territory, then they could include the adjacent shelf.

The sluggish territorial dispute erupted with unexpected force, the state, for which he had contracted to fly, acting first - his transport helicopters landed paratroopers on the island, who dug trenches and dugouts around the fishing houses, installed light guns, raised the national flag and prepared to hold the line. The neighboring powers also asserted their rights to their ancestral territory, and for the next eight days, the territorial dispute moved from a diplomatic state to the military stage.

Fearing mines and anti-ship missiles, the main forces of the small fleets of both countries chose not to join in the fight, holding at a considerable distance from the disputed archipelago and leading the fighting to attack aircraft, helicopters and boats. The enemy began to bomb the island, while trying to grab it from the Marine Corps, who made regular forays on light boats. The outcome of the conflict depended on the supplies for the paratroopers, and in the first six nights of the war, Nguyen flew Crocodile to the archipelago thirteen times, covering transport helicopters loaded with weapons, food and water.

For two days, when the opposition reached a critical point, they had to fly during the day, breaking through the barriers of the enemy’s mosquitos fleet. They flew at extremely low altitudes, almost touching the foamy waves with the skids, and stayed on the island for just a couple of minutes, unloading supplies and reinforcements, picking up the wounded and dead, and leaving at full speed, suffering more and more bullet holes during each flight. One transport was hit by a stinger and fell into the sea, the crew killed, while another got shot by a heavy machine gun and barely made it to shore on one working engine, leaving behind a thick plume of smoke. They fought back - Nguyen sank two enemy boats with cannon fire, while one was sent to the bottom with transport volley rockets.

In the second half of the eighth day the enemy began a major amphibious operation, and during the next two flights Crocodile worked in its intended purpose - providing fire support for the defending garrison, performing rocket and cannon strikes on the enemy landing. To get rid of the cursed Crocodile, the enemy called in attack aircraft, but Nguyen was ready for it, performing air combat maneuvers, which he’d practiced many times in theory with his Russian instructor. Seeing the approach of the aircraft, he hovered over the water, hiding from the enemy behind coastal cliffs. Losing the MI24 from sight, the Cessna A-37 Dragonfly roared past over him, and then Nguyen shot two IGLA missiles, one of which found the target.

After the aerial victory, he returned to their base with hundreds of bullet holes and anti-aircraft shells dug into the
larboard
. Crocodile stood for repairs that began after a truce was arranged. The work was done.
Thus began his successful career as a mercenary, which lasted for two decades.

He took people to remote mines and exported gold, diamonds and uranium concentrate by air. He protected merchant ships and oil platforms, sinking a dozen modern filibusters. He participated in search and rescue operations, evacuating survivors from the scene of various disasters and picking up dead bodies. He dropped supplies of military cargo in areas of declared and undeclared conflicts, and participated in special operations, primarily counterinsurgency.

In addition to flight operations, he intensively studied the fundamentals of economy by browsing Marx and Ford, and successfully applied this acquired knowledge, turning his small company into one of the leaders in this kind of market. Under his command he now had a whole regiment of MI17, modernized with the latest equipment, plus a couple of super heavy MI26 and some light helicopters for reconnaissance and express services
.
He had a squadron of combat helicopters and two dozen transport aircraft of various classes, plus a novelty to which he devoted a lot of attention - drones. As well as this he owned a fleet of cars, trucks and boats for various purposes, plus extensive terrestrial infrastructure that ensured the uninterrupted operation of all vehicles.

That night, Nguyen had stayed at the card table in the local casino VIP lounge, and returned to the office at the first glimpse of dawn. He was surprised to find there Master Lao, president of the largest mining company in the country, and his main client.

“Mr. Nguyen, you heard about what happened yesterday at the port?”

“Very little. It seems there has been a redistribution of power on the Cartel main base. This happens often with drug traffickers, so I think you shouldn’t pay much attention to it, as long as they don’t come back to our side of the ridge.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t share your confidence. Take a look.”

On the table lay a tightly sealed envelope, which held satellite pictures of the port and the surrounding regions. Nguyen whistled in surprise, looking at the destruction.

“And that's not all, pay attention to this picture. Apparently, reinforcements came to the naval base of our American neighbors, who took an active part in the port events. I'm not an expert in these matters, but, in my opinion, it’s not the usual gang violence.”

45. Injection

 

Bronson's grip was so strong that almost broke her arm, but Palmer made no sound. She was able to endure the pain.

“Easy, Chief, easy!”

Before she made the first injection, she pinned his hands with plastic handcuffs. Precautions were necessary; it was unknown exactly how the body would react to fresh blood. The reaction was violent; with one movement Bronson broke the strong plastic tape, and grabbed her arm with such force that it nearly broke her wrist.

“Easy, Chief, it's me. I just gave you an injection of fresh blood, you're all right.”

The vice-like grip squeezing her arm suddenly relaxed. Bronson fell on the bed, and she saw narrowed pupils. He was unconscious. Palmer made a couple of notes in a notebook, and then raised a bottle of ammonia to his face – they didn’t have time to lay sedated.

“Chief, wake up!”

Reviving him wasn’t easy, but, five minutes later, Bronson was in working order.

“Well, what it was like, what effect did it have?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t remember. It felt like an electric shock and something else I can’t explain.”

“Was the pain strong? And what type of pain was it - as if from a burn or a prick?”

“There was no pain, Francis, pain doesn’t exist. Now I remember - when you injected the pure blood, I experienced bliss. It was the most wonderful moment in my life. I don’t know what it was, but I want to try it again!”

“So, this is how your body reacted to getting what it needs. It’s a good incentive, excellent. Well, Chief, we haven’t time for you to lie here, or for detailed examination and analysis. You have to get out there and take command over your team, otherwise everything will collapse. Richardson could revolt, when he begins to guess what is really happening. He isn’t a fool, however much he might act like it. I can’t cope alone without your fighters, and they need a leader.”

“You're saying that I'm infected. And you want me to leave the hospital and return to my team?”

“In our situation we have to take the risk, and I believe that this risk is justified. I'm pretty sure that you won’t go mad, like the driver did, because you've already had three clean blood injections. I also believe that the disease isn’t spread by airborne droplets. If it was, we would all be infected. It can only become worse than it is now in one case - if we lose control of the situation. And we will lose control if you don’t take command.”

“Who knows that I’m infected?”

“Just the two of us. Three of my people know that Pete Anderson was infected, they are now watching him. But the fact that you have these changes is known by just the two of us and the hospital staff. Two of them are dead, while the third is in a serious condition and will not soon wake up. To everyone else, you came here yesterday with shrapnel wounds from which you recovered quickly. I'll give you a walking stick to be more convincing. We should go now.”

“What did you say to Richardson?”

“The same as before – the infection causes increased aggression, it is necessary to enforce quarantine and limit contact with the outside world, in order to avoid information leakage and subsequent panic. And he doesn’t know about the increased regeneration.”

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