by Dirk Patton
A second later, the engines bellowed, long tongues of flame shooting out of them as Vance engaged the afterburners. The runway was short, and without the use of full military power the heavy aircraft wouldn’t get off the ground before the pavement ended at a sudden drop into the ocean.
The adaptive camouflage made it all but invisible as it accelerated, but Lucas could track its progress by the fiery exhaust. Vance got it in the air a hundred feet short of the end of the runway, tilting the nose up to near vertical as he headed for an abandoned airstrip on a neighboring island where he’d wait for Lucas. Seconds later, a sonic boom rolled over the sleeping island.
“You’d better be who I think you are.”
Lucas whirled, surprised by the man who suddenly emerged from the tall grass at the edge of the runway. He was in camouflage from head to toe, his face blacked out and a rifle in his hands.
“Bloody yanks. Always gotta be gearin’ up and showin’ off,” he grumbled, watching as a second man, identically dressed and armed popped up at a different spot.
The man who’d spoken didn’t react, just stared at him with his weapon at the ready. Lucas looked at him for a moment and sighed.
“Colonel Chapman’s expecting me. Lucas Martin.”
“Yes, I am, but I don’t know why” the other man said and Lucas recognized Chapman’s voice.
“Wasn’t expecting you personally, Colonel,” he said.
“Fun to play dress up and show off for the poor relations every now and then,” Chapman said with a straight face. “Come on. Let’s get out of the open and you can tell me what the hell is going on.”
Without waiting to see if Lucas was following, he led the way across a field to a thick stand of jungle foliage. A Hummer painted matte black had been backed into the brush and was all but invisible until they were right on top of it. Chapman stopped by the push bar mounted to the front bumper.
Lucas told him everything that had happened, including details that had been classified and the Colonel was unaware of. His eyes narrowed when he learned about the snipers targeting Rachel.
“This the same Russian bitch that killed Chuck Black?”
“Aye,” Lucas said with a nod. “That’s her. Don’t know what she’s got in the works for John, but she’s got him by the short and curlies as long as his family’s in danger.”
Chapman nodded and stared off toward the airfield for a few moments before continuing.
“And the enemy’s definitely in our secure comms?”
“She made a point of contacting John over the encrypted satellite link. That’s why I came back and had the Chief get a message to you through a cutout. Don’t know if they can listen in or not, or who I can trust at this point.”
“But you trust me?” Chapman asked, eyes boring into Lucas’s.
“Not really. Don’t know you. But John does. Besides, don’t have another option.”
He wouldn’t have been surprised if Chapman had been offended by his answer, but he wasn’t one to mince words or hide his true feelings. Unless Ziggy was on the warpath, in which case he could be the most diplomatic man in the world.
“Okay. What’s the plan?” Chapman asked, surprising him again.
“Step one is to get onto the base. Saw all the helicopters on the way in, so guessing they’re still on lockdown.”
“Protestors are still having a fit,” Chapman said, nodding.
“Figured that. Also figured I wasn’t going to be able to just walk up to the gate and be admitted, neither.”
“And you think I can?”
“If you’re half as connected as John thinks you are, figure it shouldn’t be a stretch.”
Chapman stared at him for a long beat before nodding.
“I’ll help, but I’m coming along.”
“Got a saying in Australia,” Lucas said. “Too many swingin’ willies scare the sheilas away. These fucks with the rifles get a whiff we’re lookin’ for ‘em, I’m betting they got orders to take the shot.”
Chapman nodded slowly before turning to get into the Hummer.
“Got a saying in America, too,” he said, opening the back door and gesturing for Lucas to get in.
Lucas climbed into the vehicle, looking expectantly at Chapman.
“What saying?” he asked when the Colonel didn’t finish his thought.
“Don’t look a gift horse in the ass,” he said, slamming the door in Lucas’s face.
6
Blood fountained from the man’s throat, splashing across Nicole’s arm and face. Ignoring it, she fumbled the key into the lock on her ankle restraints, but Gonzales slammed into her before she could turn it. Screaming, she went into a frenzy as he tried to pin her to the deck. As they struggled, she absently noted he was shouting something to the sole surviving crewman, but his words didn’t register in her mind.
She was beyond rational thought. All semblance of civilization left her as adrenaline surged through her body. Her blood-slicked arm slipped free of Gonzales’s grasp and she shot an elbow into his ribs with enough force to lift him completely into the air. He crashed back down on top of her but was no longer trying to fight.
Screaming again, she bucked him off and spun around to press the attack, but her legs were still locked in the steel shackles. Slashing at the terrified crewman to keep him at bay, she quickly released the locks and got to her feet, turning to face the two men.
She stood in a crouch, arms swinging loosely as she watched Gonzales slowly stand. He held a long baton with electrodes protruding from the end. Blue electricity arced between them with a crackling sound when he pressed a button. He barked an order at the other man who fumbled a large auto-injecting syringe out of his pocket. Nicole’s eyes locked onto the needle.
“Nicole, settle down!” Gonzales cried, grimacing from the pain of what was most likely multiple broken ribs. “No one’s going to hurt you. I don’t want to have to use this.”
“You can’t hurt me!”
Nicole shuffled her feet as her voice dissolved into a predatory growl. Gonzales didn’t budge, but the crewman stepped back until he was pressed against the bulkhead.
“Nicole, just listen to me. Everything will be all right. Please, baby. Just let me explain.”
She glared at her former lover, breathing deeply as she balanced the rage of the infection with her intellect. Considered her options. How best to escape. She didn’t know if it was the primitive beast that had been unleashed by the virus, or a coldly calculated decision, but she instantly concluded that the two men facing her needed to die.
Screaming, she launched herself at them, hands curled into claws. Gonzales stabbed forward with the stunner, an arc of high voltage sizzling at the tip, but she was moving far too fast for him to strike his target. The crewman shouted as he tried to scramble away and she knocked the syringe from his hand before whirling to attack the SEAL.
He was still off balance from his missed lunge and she threw herself against him. They landed on the deck in a twisted pile of flailing limbs, her continued screams drowning out his grunts of effort as he tried to fend off her slashing nails. His flesh was torn open, blood splattering the bulkheads and mixing with the thick morass that already coated her arm.
She landed a particularly savage blow that slammed his head against the steel deck. His eyes lost focus then his body went slack as he fell into unconsciousness. Leaping to her feet, Nicole spun, eyes locking onto the horrified crewman who cowered as far from her as he could.
Releasing the side door latch, she slammed it fully open with a savage pull. The rush of wind and roar of the rotor beat against her and she couldn’t help but scream her rage into the night. Turning back to Gonzales, a frightening, bloody smile split her face as she lifted him upright.
“Wake up, baby. WAKE UP!”
Shaking the much larger man like a rag doll, she slapped him until his eyes fluttered open. His hands came up in a futile attempt to ward off her blows. Pulling him into an embrace, she pressed her face to
his and hissed out a breath before breathing deeply through her nose.
“Afraid of me, baby? Want to fuck me now? Come on, you don’t have to lie to me anymore. I can smell the truth! But I want to hear you say how scared you are right now.”
“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he mumbled, then whipped his head back before smashing it into her face.
A more than two-hundred-pound man head butting a woman who was hardly half his size would normally send her sprawling into unconsciousness. Nicole’s grip never even slackened. Other than a split across the bridge of her nose that began to pour blood down her face, nothing happened.
“Not nice, lover,” she said, slamming a fist into his injured ribs.
He howled with pain and struggled against her, but her grip was unbreakable iron.
“I’m sorry,” he grunted through a wave a pain.
“I. DON’T. BELIEVE. YOU,” she screamed. “You used me! You lied to me!”
“I’m sorry!”
“I’m not,” she said, lifting him off his feet and looking at the open door.
“NO!” he shouted when he realized what she intended to do. “Wait! I can explain---”
“NYET!”
Nicole’s head snapped around at the loud shout. One of the flight crew had come back from the cockpit and was aiming a pistol at her face. The man looked frightened, but the weapon was steady and there was determination in his eyes.
A beat passed and he began shouting orders in Russian, which she couldn’t understand. But the meaning was crystal clear. Still holding Gonzales in the air, she looked the opposite direction, through the open door. She could see the ground below and realized they were rapidly descending for a landing.
Turning back to face the gun, she nodded her head and the man stopped shouting. Hesitating for only a moment, Nicole suddenly tossed Gonzales directly at him. There was a single gunshot, but she was already in motion, throwing herself out of the helicopter’s door.
The fall to the ground seemed to take forever as she tumbled in the air. She should have been frightened but wasn’t. Even when her body impacted the earth hard enough to stun her into immobility and knock the breath from her lungs, she wasn’t scared.
Lying there, she tracked the big Russian helicopter with her eyes, waiting patiently to see if she was going to survive the fall. For a time, her mind was disconnected from her physical form. Floating somewhere above her. Noticing the helo bank sharply to come around.
Then, with a dull wave of pain, feeling returned and she was able to draw a breath. Sitting up suddenly, she tilted her head back and screamed at the aircraft. Bellowed her pain and rage into the sky until a more rational part of her mind took control.
Climbing to her feet, Nicole quickly cataloged her injuries. There was not a limb or joint that wouldn’t have incapacitated a normal human with pain, but they were unbroken and still functional. As she moved and breathed, she became aware of several ribs whose broken ends were grinding against each other. A large lump had formed on the back of her head and she could feel the heat of internal injuries that would have sent a lesser woman to a trauma surgeon.
But she was vertical and mobile. Her virus-strengthened body tamped down the pain as if she were floating on a cloud of morphine. She had no idea if the injuries, despite the lack of disability, would kill her or if the infection would repair the damage. She did know that she would die before she allowed herself to be taken again.
Standing for a moment, she watched the helicopter approach. It was obviously searching for her, flying low and slow. Turning a circle, she surveyed her surroundings and realized she had no idea where she was, or even which direction was which. Defaulting to instinct, she turned and ran into the darkness on a course ninety degrees off the helo’s heading.
7
Viktoriya talked for several minutes. She artfully painted a picture of a utopian society with her as its benevolent ruler and me as her champion. Perhaps attack dog would have been more accurate.
I don’t know if she actually believed the lunacy she was spouting, or I was just hearing a fantasy she liked to believe. Either way, it was better to just let her keep going. She was occupied for the moment. Not interested in threatening me with Rachel’s life or trotting out something else to coerce me into cooperation.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to come up with any brilliant scheme to extricate myself from this steaming pile of shit. I was no closer to ending the threat to my family and the collection bag hanging from the chair was now full of my blood.
Viktoriya never stopped talking as the senior of the two men swapped it out for a new one. I briefly wondered how much they were planning to drain from me but didn’t dwell on the topic. I’d already been told that I was part of the plan to eliminate some key Russian officers, so I wasn’t worried about them overdoing it.
The man didn’t waste any time hanging the bag of blood from an empty IV stand that stood next to Viktoriya’s chair. As she prattled on about her vision for a reborn Russian dynasty, he disconnected the tubing connected to her arm from the bag of saline and inserted the tip into the transfusion bag.
I watched as my bright red blood began to travel down the tubing. Wanted so badly to leap up and snatch the needle out of Viktoriya’s arm. But there was no point. I had no choice other than to remain docile until my family was safe.
Viktoriya fell silent and twisted her head up to watch the progress. As the line between clear saline and red blood progressed, a smile spread across her face and she sighed dramatically in apparent satisfaction.
“The gift of power,” she said.
Several thoughts ran through my head, but I kept my mouth shut. She was about to feel a surge of raw, primal energy that was unlike anything she had ever imagined. Antagonizing her at the moment wasn’t only pointless, it could be downright dangerous. When the blood completely filled the tubing and was flowing into her vein, she turned and faced me with a triumphant smile.
“What is your answer?”
“I have a condition,” I said, watching closely for the moment her face flushed with the infection.
“You are in no position to make demands.”
“Condition, not demand,” I said patiently. “If you really want something like this to work, that is.”
She looked at me for a long beat before gesturing for me to continue.
“My people, Americans, are not and never will be Russian slaves. Or serfs, or whatever. They are equal in all respects to yours. They will be fully integrated and free.”
“Free? And just what do you think they will do with this - freedom?”
“Whatever the hell they want.”
“Are you actually thinking about that outdated rag of a constitution that was so precious to you Americans?” she asked, the distaste clear in her tone.
“Something like that,” I said with a nod. “Freedom of speech, religion and so on. What’s so bad about that?”
She threw her head back and laughed loudly.
“The two things that can make a country so difficult to rule, and you want to keep them? No. Too dangerous to our future. Freedom of choice as far as job or living arrangements is one thing, but people need structure and direction. That’s what the State is for!”
“And how many regimes in the history of the world have successfully managed a long-term suppression of freedom? Without dissent that leads to open rebellion? Is that what you want to be dealing with? Or would you rather be building your legacy for the new world?”
“That would be an impossible sell to my people,” she said, frowning.
“For you? I find that difficult to believe. Besides, what’s the good in being the Tsarina if you can’t make a unilateral decision?”
She paused in thought and I could see that my question had planted a seed.
“What else?” she asked after a long few moments.
“Everything else is negotiable,” I said. “That part isn’t. If you want me, that’s my price.”
&nb
sp; “And do I get all of you?” she purred, instantly switching gears.
“Like I said. Negotiable.”
She looked into my eyes for several seconds and a smile slowly crept across her face.
“You are sincere!”
I nodded my head.
“Meet my condition and we’ll go kill some generals and Barinov. As long as I have your assurance that my family will not be harmed and that you’ll honor what I’ve asked for, I’m on board.”
I held her eyes as she thought about what I’d said. With a nod, she extended her hand into the open space between us.
“Agreed!”
I reached out and took her hand, momentarily surprised by the heat of her skin. Then I saw the flush begin at her neck and quickly spread up across her face. I tried to release her hand, but she held on with an iron grip as she leaned back in her chair and moaned long and low.
She began to gently writhe, my hand still locked in hers. Her breathing deepened and she reached inside her uniform blouse with her free hand and I could see it move onto one of her breasts. Her moans became louder and when I realized what was happening, I tore my hand free of hers and put my head back with a sigh.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath.
The hand I’d been holding was now thrust deep into her pants.
“What is happening?” the senior man asked in a worried voice. “Is she reacting to the virus?”
He stood near her, helplessly watching as her entire body began shaking.
“You could say that,” I said with a shake of my head. “She’s having an orgasm.”
8
Martinez slowly regained consciousness, her mind clawing its way up from darkness. When she was able to open her eyes, the world swam violently around her. She fought it at first, then had no choice but to lean to the side and be sick.
Spasm after spasm rocked her, her body crying out in pain from the convulsions as it kept rebelling long after her stomach was empty. The nausea eventually passed and she sat back, gulping air.
