“You’re bizarre,” said David. “In a good way.”
“Just trying to keep you from face-planting,” said Larsen. “I’ve seen that look before. Quite a few times, actually. It never gets easier. That’s a big part of why I got out. Been to one too many of these.”
David patted his shoulder. “Thank you. I needed the pep talk.”
“I’m sure it won’t be the last,” said Larsen. “Chang talked me off a cliff earlier.”
“I heard it was pretty bad in there,” said David.
“I don’t want to think about it,” said Larsen. “I just want to get as far the fuck away from here as possible.”
David liked the sound of that initially, but his mind quickly pictured the young mother and her son, Ben. What would happen to them?
“Jesus, man. Are you with me?” said Larsen. “I feel like you’re miles from here.”
“Actually, it’s the other way around,” said David, looking over Larsen’s shoulder at Dan Howard’s widow.
How in the hell could they leave? They’d made a promise. Larsen understood immediately.
“There’s no other way. I can’t go to the authorities. Neither can Chang. The Harpers mean well, but who the hell is going to listen to them?” said Larsen, tapping his badge lightly. “You’re the only one here with a chance in hell of getting anyone to listen. This is not some kind of weak Jedi mind trick, David. You need to get out of here, for everyone’s sake. Help isn’t coming otherwise.”
“I don’t know,” said David.
“I do,” said Larsen, stepping out of his way and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let me introduce you to Dan’s family.”
With nothing in his way, real or imagined, David took a deep breath and forced his legs to move.
Chapter 40
Major Nick Smith scanned the city skyline to the south, disturbed by the volume of smoke rising from the low-lying buildings separating his location at the hospital from the downtown district. He could barely see the skyscrapers through the thick haze at this point. He raised his binoculars and took a closer look. Tall flames poured out of several blackened structures, a number of smaller fires evident in adjacent buildings.
The fires had spread faster and wider than he’d anticipated, steadily advancing on Interstate 65, their primary route out of the city. He didn’t think the fire could damage the eight-lane, raised highway, but if it managed to pass underneath and ignite structures north of the interstate, they’d have to reroute the final convoy. Not a huge problem, but the remaining routes would take them through heavily populated residential areas—and most of his higher volume passenger-carrying vehicles were unarmored. The current run from the hospital to the interstate was sketchy enough.
If he succeeded in rescuing the people from the hospital, they needed to do it before the whole place went up in flames. Of course, sneaking a hundred or so people through a militarized quarantine zone wouldn’t be easy.
“Major, Dr. Owens is looking for you,” announced the sentry guarding the rooftop access. “Shall I send him up?”
“Yes,” said Smith. “I’m at the southeast corner.”
“Copy that. He’s on his way.”
Smith tucked the binoculars in a case attached to his vest and turned away from the burning city. Dr. Owens, dressed in jeans and a deep scarlet ER scrub shirt, walked out of an open doorway set in the cinder-block access enclosure. Owens, a veteran emergency room doctor, was the de facto head of the hospital right now. None of the hospital administration could be found, and most of the physicians had either succumbed to the virus or vanished days ago with the majority of the staff. Owens somehow found himself the spokesperson for one hundred and eighteen souls. One hundred and eighteen people Smith was going to ferry out of here around dark, to make it just a little harder for the drones and surveillance planes.
“Dr. Owens!” said Smith, waving him over.
A crackle of gunfire caused the doctor to duck into a crouch and stop halfway to the edge of the roof. Smith barely registered the noise. Sporadic fits of gunfire were part of the mission’s background noise at this point. Nothing to be worried about. Outside of the barrage of gunfire aimed at his convoys, they’d been pretty lucky. The mobs had mostly ignored the hospital and the soldiers guarding it.
They’d had one serious incident during the middle of the morning, when a major gun battle north of the downtown area had drawn hundreds of the infected onto the streets. One of the two-forty gunners got nervous and cut loose a long burst of fire—which attracted dozens of them to the ER parking lot. Instead of applying the military concept of overwhelming firepower superiority against the crowd, and possibly drawing a few hundred to the hospital, he’d gone with a subtler strategy. Distraction.
He’d sent one of the HUMVEEs toward the interstate, guns blazing at the sky. The gimmick managed to draw most of the infected away, where the fireworks to the north proved more tempting than the hospital. His soldiers still had to shoot five civilians who didn’t take the bait. They did it with single shots spaced as far apart as possible to cut down on the chance of drawing unwanted attention. The shootings were more like executions than heat-of-the-battle kills. Sergeant Major Riddle and Smith had essentially pulled each trigger, standing next to each soldier when it was their turn to fire.
Smith had originally wanted to do all of the shooting himself, to take that burden off his soldiers’ shoulders, but Riddle told him it was a bad idea—that it sent the wrong message. As usual, the sergeant major had been right. The two of them might not be there the next time one of their soldiers faced the same situation. Hesitation in a moment like that could prove fatal for the soldier, and Smith’s entire command. He couldn’t wait to get the last convoy moving. He was done soldiering for now.
Owens arrived with the same calm expression he’d worn when Smith first met him. He had to give the doctor credit. The guy had stuck around through the worst of it and somehow still managed to look unfazed and under control. Smith could only hope he looked half as measured and competent around his soldiers.
“Major,” said Owens, “how goes the war?”
Smith couldn’t help laughing. How goes the war? Owens was a character—no doubt about that.
“Half the city’s on fire,” said Smith. “Other than that, everything’s under control.”
Owens squinted, looking past Smith. “It’ll burn out when it hits the interstate. We have the White River to our west. I hate to say it, but this could be a good thing. The fires will take the infected with it.”
Smith had thought of that, too. He just didn’t want to admit it.
“We should be gone before the fire becomes an issue, either way,” said Smith.
A single gunshot zipped overhead, and Smith stepped away from the parapet, pulling Owens with him. Someone was shooting at them. Unbelievable. A second bullet hit the top of the concrete wall a few seconds after they had left. Not a bad shot, either.
“Contact. Third floor of the building one street over from the hospital annex building. “You want us to respond, Major?”
Smith made eye contact with the lookout situated in the northeast corner, and pointed emphatically due east, in the direction of the gunfire. Another bullet snapped through the air above Smith and Owens.
“Negative,” said Smith. “We’ll switch to remote surveillance.”
They had handheld drones for this kind of thing. It was almost time to put them up again, anyway. The sun was going down, and the convoy was still forty minutes out. The drone teams would run a thorough reconnaissance of the final convoy’s primary route out of the downtown area, in addition to scouting some of the alternative routes.
“Hold on a second,” he said to Owens before switching to the command and control net. “Riddle, this is Smith.”
“Go ahead, sir.”
“Overwatch is taking accurate fire. I’d rather not respond and draw any infected to the hospital. Let’s get a Raven up to keep an eye on the streets,” said Smith.
“Understood. I’ll get Vaughn on it right away.”
“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” said Smith, turning back to Owens. “What’s up? Everyone ready to roll?”
“They’re as ready as they can be,” said Owens. “Are we safe up here?”
“Completely. The shooter is in a third-story window a few streets over in that direction,” said Smith, pointing toward the ledge they had just been standing beside. “Even if the bullets managed to pass through two feet of concrete, they wouldn’t have the angle to hit us.”
A gunshot echoed across the rooftop, and the soldier in the nearby corner of the rooftop ducked below the parapet.
“Looks like the shooter lost interest in us,” said Smith, motioning for the soldier to stay down.
“Seems pretty accurate—and deliberate,” said Owens.
“Yeah. This isn’t one of the infected,” said Smith. “Probably some antigovernment type who thinks the military is behind all of this.”
“What a crazy theory,” said Owens, raising an eyebrow.
Smith just shook his head and feigned a thin smile. Part of him still clung to the hope that his government wasn’t in any way responsible for the outbreak and that the quarantine effort was genuine. Based on what he’d witnessed inside and outside the city, he knew it wasn’t true, which was why he’d decided to help Owens and the remaining hospital staff. Instead of going back down that rabbit hole, he decided not to take the doctor’s bait.
“When the convoy returns, we’ll load up and wait for dark,” said Smith. “It’ll make it a little harder for the drones to figure out what’s going on.”
Owens stared at him for a moment. “This is going to mess things up for you with your command, isn’t it?”
“To some degree,” said Smith. “Hopefully they’ll be too damn busy with this mess they’ve created to bother with us right away.”
“Eventually it’ll catch up,” said Owens. “When the dust settles, they’ll sweep it under the rug, along with anyone that didn’t play along.”
“Are you saying I should cancel the plan?” said Smith, a little concerned. “Leave you all here to fend for yourselves?”
“No. No. Sorry. That didn’t come out right,” said Owens. “I’m a little tired. What I meant to say is thank you. Should have started with that.”
“Might have been a better start,” said Smith.
“Seriously. Everyone down there appreciates what you’re risking,” said Owens. “And they probably don’t know the half of it. I think half of them are in some kind of low-grade shock. The past few days have been unreal.”
“I wish we could do more for them,” said Smith. “I can’t imagine what some of them are dealing with.”
“Getting them out of the city and keeping them away from the quarantine camps is like winning the lottery,” said Owens.
“Strange lottery,” said Smith. “Stay here and die, or get dropped off in the middle of nowhere, with the clothes on your back and a few MREs. Make sure you go over everything again—with everyone,” said Smith. “If just one of them fucks up, the whole group will be hunted down and rounded up.”
“I’ve been through it a dozen times with them,” said Owens. “They wait until sunrise before placing the first call. We stagger the calls. Stagger the pickups. Spread out. Stay hidden. No calls to law enforcement. No variations from the plan.”
Smith was about to speak, when Owens continued. “We’ve already labeled and collected the phones. The whole plan is on paper, copied multiple times and distributed to group leaders. Everybody is on board and understands the risks of messing this up.”
“That won’t stop some of them from trying,” said Smith.
“We chose the group leaders carefully,” said Owens. “And I’ve recruited a few enforcers.”
“Enforcers?” said Smith.
“One’s a hospital security guard. Big dude. We actually used to call him the enforcer. He’d show up in the ER when there was an issue and everything calmed down on its own.”
Smith laughed. “Sounds like the sergeant major.”
“Pretty much,” said Owens. “I have a few more on the job. They’re already floating back and forth listening for signs of trouble.”
“That’s all you can do,” said Smith.
“What about your soldiers?” said Owens.
“We’ve brought about a dozen or so into the fold,” said Smith. “The rest won’t suspect anything is off until we stop and unload your group. Even then, we’ve come up with a cover story. We’ll say we got ordered back into the city immediately to support a trapped unit and had to dump your group. We’ll head toward Indianapolis for ten minutes and then learn that the other National Guard unit managed to break out on their own. Something like that.”
“Something like that?” said Owens.
“That’s about as good as it gets on my end,” said Smith. “Once we get back to our forward operating base, the soldiers will be dismissed to get some sleep. They won’t be up and mingling with the rest of the battalion until mid-morning—if the rest of the battalion is even there. I’ll go right into some kind of after-action briefing, give a basic account of what happened, then be sent to get some rest. I just don’t see anyone piecing it together anytime soon.”
Owens stared at him with a puzzled look.
“What?” said Smith.
“I can’t imagine any scenario that doesn’t involve your soldiers going into a temporary quarantine,” said Owens. “They’ll want to know about everything. Where they’ve been. What they’ve seen. I think you’re underestimating the full scope of what’s going on here—and the government’s interest in keeping the street-level details secret.”
Smith shook his head. “Damn. I hadn’t thought of that. I just assumed since they owned us, they wouldn’t worry about us.”
“Seriously. You’re witness to ground zero. I mean—I don’t want to sound like a conspiracy theory nut, which I am, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they sprayed you down and hauled you away for observation,” he said, using air quotes. “Somewhere in the middle of a fifty-mile-by-fifty-mile cornfield—never to be seen again.”
“Damn you, Owens,” hissed Smith.
“Sorry. I’ve always been a glass half empty kind of guy.”
“Fuck. This is more than a half-empty glass,” said Smith. “More like smashed over my head.”
“Good thing you’re wearing that helmet.”
“Funny,” said Smith, catching some chatter in his headset. “Raven’s up.”
Owens looked around as a faint buzzing washed over the rooftop.
“Headed east,” said Smith, scanning the sky over the rooftop wall. “There.”
A delicate-looking gray aircraft rose skyward at a steep angle.
“Looks like a toy,” said Owens.
“Its wingspan isn’t much bigger than your arm span,” said Smith. “But it’s rugged enough, and it’s all we have watching over us at this point.”
“Godspeed, Mr. Raven,” said Owens, saluting the drone.
“More like God help us.”
Chapter 41
Laura Ragan wiped the sweat from her face before taking a long sip from her lukewarm, nearly empty CamelBak. She leaned her perspiration-soaked head against the inside of the ambulance and closed her eyes, willing the sun to go down. When she opened them, the deep orange orb was no farther along its downward trajectory than it had been a few seconds ago.
A quick glance at her watch told her they had another thirty-three minutes until it sank below the horizon. They should wait at least another hour before venturing out of the ambulance, but she knew it would be a tough sell. Without even looking at them, she could tell that her team was on the verge of mutiny. They had been trapped in the sweltering, cramped patient-care compartment for most of the afternoon, waiting for dark, when it should be possible for them to move safely on foot to Chang’s apartment. It was definitely not safe for them to transit in the daylight. They’d lear
ned that lesson the hard way, and it had cost them a member of their team.
Ragan didn’t want to think about it. Not that she had the option. She’d hear Boyd’s screams for the rest of her days. They all would. His death had been completely unexpected, and entirely avoidable—if Control had bothered to give them any indication of the true problem inside the quarantine zone. But they hadn’t.
She had been warned to avoid contact with law enforcement or military patrols, and to steer clear of quarantine boundary checkpoints. Control clearly didn’t want anyone questioning their purpose or mission inside the quarantine zone. Maybe that should have been enough of a warning. Then again, how could she have guessed what was truly happening in the city? Even now Ragan barely believed it, and she’d witnessed something unthinkable.
Their mission had proceeded relatively well despite being rerouted twice. They had driven to the recommended point along Interstate 465, where her team crossed on foot with little difficulty. National Guard vehicle patrols were surprisingly predictable and sparse. After hiking several blocks into the northern outskirts of the city, they hotwired a pickup truck parked on the street and carefully made their way south.
A few tense encounters with bands of desperate civilians left them spooked by the time they reached Interstate 65, but they still hadn’t seen anything the team couldn’t handle with the firepower at their disposal. Their brief trip along the deserted highway compounded that false sense of security. When they reached an impassible traffic jam less than a mile from Chang’s apartment, Ragan led them off the interstate on foot. All hell broke loose a few minutes into their trek.
The Zulu Virus Chronicles Boxset (Books 1-3) Page 53
