The Zulu Virus Chronicles Boxset (Books 1-3)

by Steven Konkoly

  He glanced at his son in the passenger seat. “Is Gary good to go?”

  “He just texted that he’s on his way to the road,” said Joshua.

  “Good. We need to make this quick,” said David. “How are we doing back there?”

  “I’ll live,” said McDermott.

  David looked over his shoulder for a second. The operative didn’t look good. His face was pale, and he looked to be in excruciating pain. He’d taken a bullet to the right side of his abdomen while ambushing the group that had retreated from the forest. The hemostatic pad one of Rich’s people had wrapped tightly in place hadn’t done the trick. Blood had started to pool on the steel floor under his seat.

  “Gary’s people will take care of you until the ambulances get here,” said David.

  “Sounds like Gary has enough on his hands already,” said McDermott. “Maybe we should go right to the hospital.”

  “Not with the hardware we’re carrying in back,” said David.

  “Put it in the cop car,” grumbled McDermott.

  “We’re ditching the cop car at the first opportunity. Sorry, my friend. We need to hand you over to Gary and beat feet before the police arrive. Larsen said the hospital is responding with a mass casualty team from Mississippi that arrived in Rushville last night. They’re bringing in people from all over to manage this mess. You’ll be in good hands.”

  “I don’t see how any of it will make a difference,” said McDermott.

  “I’m sure they can fix you up,” said David.

  “I didn’t mean it that way. Indianapolis and all those other cities are dead. There’s no coming back from this.”

  “I wish I could disagree,” said David, his mind going dark from McDermott’s comment.

  Four figures suddenly appeared on the side of the road next to the trees, roughly where they had been arranging pickups by family and friends. They were crouched low to the shoulder of the road, two of them aiming rifles into the forest. The two without weapons, both female, wore purple hospital scrubs. Probably emergency room staff from the hospital Major Smith had evacuated.

  “Did they mention a problem?” said David.

  Joshua shook his head. “He didn’t say anything about trouble. Do you want me to ask?”

  “No. We’ll be there in a few seconds, anyway. Stay alert.”

  “Yep,” said his son, adjusting the M1A1 rifle in his lap.

  David slowed the Wrangler to a stop next to Gary Hoenig, who stood up and gave the forest one more look before turning toward David. The police Interceptor driven by Jack and Emma Harper pulled in close behind the Jeep.

  “Everything okay?” said David, nodding at the security officer, who was still pointing his rifle at the forest. “Mitch looks a little nervous.”

  “We thought they had all retreated when the helicopters went down,” said Hoenig. “Wrong. Just had three guys surrender to us. One wounded pretty bad.”

  “Seriously?” said David.

  “They never left their position in the forest. Could have blown us to hell while we were congratulating ourselves—but they didn’t. We’re just being cautious.”

  “No cost for being careful,” said David.

  “I hear sirens,” said one of the nurses—her hospital scrubs were soaked in blood.

  David heard the distant shrill of a police siren. After more than twenty years on the job, he could immediately tell the difference between an ambulance and a cruiser.

  “Definitely the cops,” said David. “They’re being cautious given the details Larsen provided.”

  “And the explosions. Gunfire. Smoke drifting up from the cornfields,” said Hoenig, grinning.

  “That too,” said David, opening his car door. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Taking David’s cue, Jack and Emma helped McDermott out of the Jeep. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, Hoenig’s crew took over.

  “I don’t see an exit wound. That’s not good,” said the nurse examining him. “This guy goes to the top of the evacuation list.”

  “Then he stays by the road,” said Hoenig. “Let’s move him onto the shoulder.”

  “Lucky day,” said David.

  “Yeah. Big fucking winner,” said McDermott.

  “You won the ambulance lottery,” said Hoenig. “That’s something.”

  McDermott stifled a laugh, grimacing in pain with the effort.

  “No more jokes,” said Hoenig. “Sorry.”

  “What are you dealing with for wounded in there?” said David, motioning toward the woods next to them. “Looks like a tornado blew through here.”

  Branches were ripped away or broken along a wide band of splintered trees.

  “We only have a few like your friend here, but almost everyone was hit somehow. Most of the bullets grazed extremities. The minigun swept through like a fire hose the first time around, but most people were protected. Lots of superficial leg, arm and head wounds. The second gun run did the most damage. Almost everyone exposed to the gunfire was killed. The people being carried here now are the lucky ones—just like Mr. McDermott.”

  “Call me lucky Bob,” said McDermott. “Or just Bob.”

  “We didn’t get properly introduced earlier. I’m Gary,” he said. “The woman about to cause you great pain replacing that poorly applied dressing is Lisa. Her assistant is Tina. They’ve saved a lot of lives at the Methodist Hospital ER over the past two days. You’re in good hands.”

  “Can’t wait,” said McDermott.

  “Rest easy, man,” said David.

  “Make sure Ragan knows where to find me,” said McDermott. “I don’t want to sit in that hospital for a month.”

  “You have my word,” said David.

  “Where the hell is she going?” said McDermott. “Everything happened so fast. I never got a handle on what they’re planning.”

  “Something really fucking crazy from what I gathered,” said David. “That’s about all I know.”

  “Sounds like her.”

  “That’s enough chitchat,” said the nurse. “We need to prep you for transport.”

  “Why do I have a bad feeling about these two?” said McDermott.

  Everyone laughed, including McDermott, which caused him to wince.

  “That’s it,” said the nurse, grabbing him under his armpits.

  When McDermott was out of earshot, lying on the shoulder of the road between the two nurses, Hoenig leaned in and spoke quietly. “What the hell is really going on? That’s an AT4 rocket in the back of your Jeep.”

  “Two AT4 rockets,” said David. “And a MK32 grenade launcher.”

  “I got one of those,” said Hoenig.

  “I bet you don’t have thirty high-explosive rounds for it.”

  “I could have used those about fifteen minutes ago,” said Hoenig.

  “Looks like you did fine without,” said David, catching Jack’s nervous nod. “I hate to cut our chat short, but I have a Jeep load of illegal weapons to hide and a police car to ditch.”

  “Get out of here,” said Hoenig, patting his shoulder. “Appreciate this. I know you had a big hand in getting us help. Larsen sounded unsure.”

  “Larsen got in touch with me after he called in the cavalry,” said David. He reached a hand through the open window and shook Hoenig’s hand. “Stay safe.”

  “Same to you,” said Hoenig. “Looks like you’re still in the thick of it.”

  “My parents are still a few hours away,” said David. “Just babysitting some gear until Larsen gets back.”

  “We’ll see,” said Hoenig, motioning for them to move along.

  David shifted into gear and stepped on the accelerator, screeching the tires as they pulled away. When they got a few hundred yards down the road, he slowed a little and stuck his arm out the window, motioning for Jack to pull ahead of him. The last thing they needed was one of the responding police officers somehow spotting the Interceptor in the distance. The Jeep would serve as a temporary block until they were
well out of sight.

  “Let them know I’m going to tailgate them for a while,” said David. “Keep them hidden from the arriving units.”

  A few seconds after Joshua went to work texting the Harpers, the police SUV zoomed past and settled in front of the Jeep. He closed the distance between the two vehicles to a single car length and glanced in the rearview mirror. The responding police vehicles still hadn’t appeared.

  “I think we’re good,” said David.

  “Now what?” said Joshua, his eyes barely staying open.

  “Get some sleep,” said David. “We’ll be driving around for a while.”

  “I meant what’s going on with Larsen and all of the others?” said Joshua. “That drug-cartel-looking guy sounded pretty serious about getting his gear back.”

  “They all sounded serious,” said David.

  “I guess my question is—where are they going that they can’t take this stuff with them?” said Joshua.

  His son’s question jolted the barely firing, caffeine-deprived synapses in his brain, giving him a moment of clarity. Jesus.

  “No way that could work,” muttered David.

  “What can’t work?” said his son.

  “I think they’re planning on hijacking a helicopter.”

  Chapter 16

  Larsen examined the motley crew assembled around the helicopter, shaking his head imperceptibly—or so he thought.

  “You have doubts?” said Rich, appearing next to him.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “We scavenged all the tactical gear we could from the ambushed operatives, along with ID cards. I think we’ll pass muster during an urgent, confusing medical evacuation. All we have to do is stay incognito for the fifteen-minute ride to Incident Zone Four headquarters. Indianapolis International Airport.”

  “They’re not going to put us in the medevac helicopter with her,” said Larsen. “What if she wakes up and remembers being tasered?”

  “They’ll let me on,” said Ecker, the only operative that had survived the cornfield ambush.

  Larsen purposefully avoided looking at Ecker. As much as he sensed a shared feeling about the dark underside of the CHASE program, they didn’t know a thing about him. He’d survived the ambush by unclipping his rifle from its sling and surreptitiously lowering it to the ground—well before the first shots were fired. His hands were already raised when the first bullet punched through their point man’s face. Ecker had obviously given the situation a lot of thought prior to the ambush, signaling his intentions clearly, but that didn’t mean they could trust him without a gun to his head.

  “Well, as much as I’d like to think Mr. Ecker is our friend, I think it would be a mistake to put him on the helicopter with—whoever that is,” said Larsen.

  “Karyn Archer. Ajax. One of many Ajaxes. She’s the incident zone commander,” said Ecker.

  “Archer. Ajax. Whoever,” said Larsen, finally meeting Ecker’s glance. “You’re not going into that helicopter with her—not alone.”

  “Eric, if she wakes up and doesn’t see a familiar face, we’re fucked,” said Rich, looking at Ecker.

  “Depends on how lucid she is,” said Ecker. “She’s paranoid as all fuck, so if she becomes coherent, things could get ugly.”

  “We have to put him on the medevac,” said Rich.

  “Then we need to squeeze more of us on it,” said Larsen.

  “It won’t happen,” said Ecker.

  “Then she rides alone,” said Rich. “We can hit her again with morphine. If she wakes up, she’ll be slurring her words.”

  Ecker nodded. “I think that’s the best option.”

  “Drug her up,” said Rich, spurring his team into action. “Careful with the dose. I have plans for her.”

  One of the operatives prepped a morphine syrette while the other rolled her on her stomach. They were a rough-looking duo, faces scarred and weathered from whatever sketchy business Terrence—the guy pulling all of their strings—was into. He jammed the injector into one of her buttocks, briefly squeezing the tube. They’d chosen the shot location strategically, guessing that the medical team on board the medevac helicopter wouldn’t take off her pants in flight. They’d cut away her sleeve to treat the compound fracture, but either wouldn’t have time or the inclination to start diagnosing her paralysis.

  “Gave her a half dose,” he said. “Should be fine.”

  “Problem solved,” said Rich. “ETA on our pickup?”

  Larsen checked the CTAB, reading the latest status update. They’d kept the tablet active, periodically using her thumb when it locked them out. The device couldn’t determine that she was unconscious. As far as her superiors knew, she was still awake, running the show—which presented another problem.

  “Two minutes,” said Larsen. “Has anyone thought about what’s going to happen when they see she’s unconscious? According to her dialogue on the CTAB, she was supposed to shut down headquarters. They very specifically asked her if she was capable of doing that, which leads me to believe that they expect her to be awake.”

  “Ecker?” said Rich.

  “We might have to do some sweet-talking, but I don’t think it’s a showstopper,” he said. “I can bullshit our way back to the airport. Not sure what’ll happen when we hit the ground. Security will be tight around the hangar. Most of the guards know me, so that will help—but I’d be ready to do your thing as soon as we hit the tarmac.”

  “How many guards?” said Larsen.

  “Expect ten,” said Ecker. “They put both sections on duty the last time we deployed.”

  “Doesn’t sound tight,” said Rico, the younger of Rich’s two operatives.

  “Don’t underestimate them. They’re sharper than they look,” said Ecker. “And that part of the airport is crawling with military. They’ve pretty much taken over all of the private hangars and terminals. Our group is set up in the Metro Air Terminal, which is on the northwest side. It’s a standalone building and hangar with a huge tarmac. More space than we needed, but Archer wanted privacy—for obvious reasons. They even set up two temporary prison cells.”

  “Jesus,” said Rich. “We’re gonna burn this thing to the ground. Mark my words. To the fucking ground.”

  Ragan cocked her head skyward and squinted. Larsen heard it a second later. Moment of truth.

  “I don’t like this,” said Larsen. “Maybe I should type an update. Something about her being in a ton of pain and feeling like she’s going to pass out. So they don’t freak out when they see she’s unconscious.”

  “You’ll have to use her finger,” said Ecker. “And be really careful not to touch the screen yourself.”

  “We don’t have that kind of time, anyway,” said Rich.

  He was right. The helicopters sounded like they could appear at any moment.

  “Don’t give them any indication that Archer isn’t in control of the situation,” said Ecker. “We want them to hit the landing zone for a quick extraction. As long as they see me and confirm my identity, we’ll be fine—regardless of her condition. They’ve already committed to picking us up regardless of how many police cars and HUMVEEs are cruising through the area. We’d already be dead if they had decided otherwise. Don’t give them any reason to rethink this.”

  Larsen pulled his tactical goggles down over his face. “Let’s do it.”

  “I need the CTAB,” said Ecker. “It needs to be in her hands when we carry her over.”

  “She can’t hold it,” said Larsen.

  “It needs to be in her possession,” said Ecker. “They are obsessed with these things. I’ve been sent on near-suicide missions to recover them over the past twenty-four hours.”

  He recalled the two-person team dropped in the NevoTech parking lot. The miniguns had barely kept them alive long enough to retrieve the CTAB buried under a pile of dead crazies.

  Ecker continued. “I guarantee they’re more concerned with the CTAB than Archer. It has to be with her.”

&nb
sp; Larsen handed the tablet over to Ecker, glancing at Rich.

  “Rico will keep an eye on it,” said Rich, glaring at Ecker. “And you.”

  The team dispersed, each member heading to their assigned position. Rico followed Ecker into the flattened cornfield created by the helicopter’s emergency landing. The Black Hawk had hit the ground at an oblique angle, sweeping away a large enough area of cornstalks to use as a landing zone. The LZ could only accommodate one helicopter at a time, but it beat risking a pickup on the road, where the mission commander might get spooked by the emergency vehicles driving back and forth from Rushville.

  They had chosen Rico because he best fit the profile of one of the Valkyrie operatives killed in the cornfield ambush. Actually, there was little resemblance between the two men other than the designation “Hispanic” on the dead man’s ID, but they’d smeared enough dirt and blood on Rico’s face to render a visual ID inspection impossible. Ecker didn’t think it would get that far, but they didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

  The remaining four would create a hasty perimeter around the landing zone, staying in the cornstalks until the last moment, when they would emerge to board one of the helicopters. They all carried ID cards scavenged from Ecker’s dead team, their faces just as unrecognizable as Rico’s under several layers of filth.

  Larsen followed Rich into the flattened field, splitting off to the right when they’d nearly reached the spot where the helicopter had first struck the ground. He could see about fifty feet farther, above a swath of cornstalks that had been progressively sheared by the helicopter’s main rotor blades before they bit into the earth—followed immediately by the six-ton hunk of flightless metal they were attached to. He kept walking until he reached the edge of the rotor cut, where he pushed a few feet into the stalks and took a knee.

  He glanced over his shoulder, watching Ragan disappear into the green stalks on the southern edge of the landing zone. Rich’s second operative was already out of sight. At the opposite end of the flattened area, Ecker and Rico propped Archer in a seated position against the twisted tail boom. They folded her hands over her stomach and arranged her fingers around the CTAB. Smart. He was starting to trust Ecker a little more now.