by Dirk Patton
“I’m not following your logic, Captain.”
“Sorry, sir. What I’m trying to say is that they probably already know the Reagan is out there. They just don’t know where. Even now, that ship and its air wing can project a formidable amount of power, so it’s reasonable to assume the enemy is taking steps to neutralize the threat. To bring it out into the open so it can be dealt with.
“Consider that Barinov has relocated to Arizona. Several hundred miles inland and basically unreachable with the air defenses that have been set up in the desert. At the same time, the Russians suddenly discover a miracle crop that is a game changer. And make absolutely zero effort to hide their interest in obtaining it, even going so far as leading one of our SEALs directly to a pile of documentation.”
Packard stared at his aide for several moments, quietly smoking as he contemplated the theory.
“I think you may be giving them too much credit,” he finally said. “We’ve gotten to the point that we see conspiracies everywhere we turn. The Colonel thinks Irina is being used as a ruse, and I did concur with that assessment. But this, too? No. We can’t allow ourselves to succumb to paranoia, Captain.”
“Sorry, sir. You are correct.”
“Bullshit, I’m correct,” Packard snorted. “I’m just listening to my gut, and it tells me that the Russians aren’t that smart. To be running two games on us at the same time? Or any, for that matter?”
West stayed silent as the Admiral began to pace.
“Overestimating an opponent is equally as dangerous as underestimating. Perhaps even more so. That’s not to say we should dismiss the possibility, but sometimes, absent contradictory evidence, things are simply what they appear to be.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll issue orders to the Reagan immediately.”
West turned to leave, turning back when the Admiral spoke his name.
“You raised a valid concern, Captain. Belay sending that order to the Reagan. For now. But give them a heads up. I’m not going to let things unfold too much before we go get our man.”
11
“Where is she?” Gonzales roared at the two pilots in Russian.
“We are over the general area where she exited the aircraft,” the chief pilot answered as he gestured at a small display. “But there are no contacts on the thermal imager.”
“Then widen the fucking search! Comrade President will not accept failure.”
The man glanced over his shoulder at Gonzales, eyes wide with fear. He knew precisely what failure in Barinov’s military meant. But he was also constrained by the limitations of the Russian technology.
The thermal unit mounted aboard the Hind could only provide detection of a heat source within five hundred meters. And that was the absolute limit. For it to be reliable, he had to be within three hundred and fifty meters, which necessitated flying lower to the ground and severely limiting the area that could be searched.
He didn’t understand his commander’s refusal to take advantage of captured American tech. Their night fighting capabilities were far ahead of anything in the Russian inventory, yet the Colonel was adamant that they use only their own equipment. Theories and rumors abounded amongst his fellow pilots, but that’s all they were. No one knew the real reason.
“Fuck this,” Gonzales growled, having run out of patience. “Take me to the precise point where she jumped.”
“What do you expect to accomplish?” the pilot asked with a dismissive tone in his voice.
“I expect to accomplish what you cannot. She has apparently survived the fall and left the area, but she must be injured. She will be moving slower. I will track her on the ground.”
“I am going to have to refuel, soon,” the pilot said. “You will be on your own until I return.”
“Been on my own for twenty-five years,” Gonzales grunted. “Now, take me there. Quickly!”
The pilot turned to look at him, but the SEAL had already moved into the back and was donning a vest and checking his weapons. Shrugging, he banked the helicopter onto a new heading that would complete one grid of his search as he flew to the location where Nicole had jumped.
Gonzales suppressed a groan as he shrugged into a vest loaded with spare magazines. At least two of his ribs were broken, preventing him from taking a deep breath or doing much of anything else without stabbing pain. There was also a bloody gash on the back of his head where Nicole had bounced it off the steel deck and he was experiencing the symptoms of a concussion.
But none of that mattered. If he was unable to successfully retrieve and deliver Nicole to Barinov, he would only have two choices. Face a Russian firing squad or lose himself in the wilderness for the rest of his life.
He briefly considered returning to the Americans. It was extremely unlikely that anyone was even aware of his absence from Hawaii. But to do so while Nicole was still out there, free, would be living with a sword dangling over his neck by a thread.
There was no doubt that a satellite had enabled them to see her being winched aboard a Russian helicopter. He was confident that his face hadn’t been captured by the camera, but if Nicole were to speak with anyone in the American military, she would be instantly believed about the identity of her captor.
As much as he didn’t want to face the wrath of Barinov and the inevitable execution because of his failure, he well understood that there had been too many traitors and agents and mutineers. The Americans would be merciless. The only option was to try and salvage his mission. Pain and injuries he’d already sustained didn’t matter.
Opening his pack, he dug out a bottle of Tylenol and quickly swallowed a handful. Tucking it away, he took the auto-injector from the crewman and slipped it into a cargo pocket. He didn’t yet know how he’d be able to restrain Nicole long enough to get the needle into her, but the veterinarian strength sedative was the only way he could hope to control her without inflicting more harm than Barinov would accept.
* * *
Nicole stood in the darkness, watching the helo with Gonzales aboard fly a low and slow search pattern. But they were looking in the wrong spot. Despite her injuries, she’d quickly moved more than half a mile away from where she’d landed after leaping free of the helicopter.
A smile creased her face as she imagined Gonzales’s frustration. Despite the smile, she resisted the urge to run forward and lure them into landing so she could kill everyone aboard the aircraft. The desire was almost overwhelming and several times her legs twitched as she fought to override the impulse. But she was still rational.
They cannot kill you, a voice said within her head.
This seemed the most normal thing in the world to Nicole’s adrenaline- and virus-soaked brain. Even though she’d never heard it before, she recognized a more primitive version of herself had been awakened by Gonzales’s betrayal. And now that it was awake, it was making its presence known.
They cannot kill you, it repeated. They need you alive to take your blood.
Nicole nodded in agreement as if she were having a real conversation.
Call for them. With them, you are invincible!
Nicole acted the instant the voice spoke. Tilting her head back, she began singing. The tones were powerful, and she turned a slow circle to send her voice to all points of the compass. From a great distance, she heard an answering voice. Then several more from a different direction.
She fell silent when the sound of the helicopter’s rotor suddenly changed. It had come into a hover, hanging a hundred feet above where she’d struck the ground when she escaped. It spun a slow circle and she realized the pilot was scanning the immediate area prior to landing.
There was nothing for him to see and the helo quickly descended in a swirl of blowing dust. She lost sight of it for a few seconds, then it was back in the air, gaining altitude and speed, apparently leaving the area.
A lone figure stood where the aircraft had touched down. She watched the man move around the area before stopping to kneel and touch the ground. The spot where
she’d landed. A breeze ruffled her hair and brought her his scent. Gonzales!
Pulse pounding with rage, she forced herself to stay where she was. She could see the weapon in his hands and more on his body. It would be better to wait and attack in force.
She began singing again in a low voice that he wouldn’t be able to hear. Somehow, she knew that the females who had responded would pass on her need for help. That every infected who heard it would answer her call. Now, she was simply giving them a constant sound they could use to home in on her location.
12
“There’s only about a hundred different ways they could be transmitting the image from the rifle scopes.”
Chapman had managed to get them on the base without any fanfare and they’d gone straight to Jessica. Neither had the clearance needed to enter her working area, so she’d agreed to meet them at the bench where she went to smoke. Now, she stared at both men who looked back at her with blank expressions on their faces. After a long moment, she let out a sigh of frustration.
“Okay,” she said. “How did the Colonel see the video?”
“On his tablet,” Lucas said.
Jessica met his eyes and blinked a few times before speaking again.
“Not what I meant. Was it a file? A live stream?”
“Don’t know.”
“Well, what do you know?”
“Look, can you help or not?” Lucas asked irritably.
Jessica’s eyes flashed and Chapman interceded to keep the peace.
“Hold on,” he said gently with a raised hand. “Let’s break this down. What we know is that Viktoriya was able to contact him on the secure channel. Correct?”
He looked at Lucas and received a confirming nod.
“Which means the Russians are definitely in the system.” He turned his attention to Jessica. “And I’m betting there’s also a secure video stream, which is why John had a tablet in the first place. Am I close?”
“You’re correct,” Jessica said, holding up her tablet. “And here’s what’s on that stream.”
She held her tablet so the two men could see it. It was currently displaying a live satellite image of the Salt Lake City herd that was still moving to the south, even without Nicole’s presence.
“Good,” Chapman said. “Now. If you were the Russians, how would you hijack that stream?”
“That’s just it,” Jessica said. “It can’t be. The system would know it had been interrupted at some point and...”
Her voice trailed off and they looked at her expectantly.
“And?” Chapman prompted.
Jessica ignored him, bending over the tablet and tapping several controls. She caught her breath when she saw the alternate feed that was hiding in plain sight. Rachel was in bed, asleep. Mavis was sprawled next to her. The blinds in their quarters were only open a fraction of an inch, but the weapon scope was zoomed tightly, the reticle steady on Rachel’s head.
“Son of a bitch,” Chapman breathed.
“There’s three of ‘em,” Lucas said, earning a shocked look.
“You’re telling me there’re three snipers, on this base, and no one’s noticed?” Chapman blurted.
“I’m telling you that John said he saw three separate views. That means three shooters.”
“So, how do we find them without spooking them into pulling a trigger?”
“Damn good question,” Lucas said, eyes locked on Jessica.
“This won’t be quick or easy,” she said. “If it’s even possible.”
“I don’t get it,” Lucas said. “Just find their signal.”
Jessica looked at him and took a breath before responding.
“Alright. First of all, the scopes are almost certainly transmitting a signal to a server, which then combines the feeds into a stream and inserts it into our comms. We don’t know what frequency they’re using to communicate with the server. The possibilities are not limitless, but they might as well be.”
Lucas had begun shaking his head before she’d finished speaking.
“Don’t know what the hell you just said. Don’t care. Can you do it? Can you pinpoint the shooters?”
“Sure. With enough time.”
“How long?” Chapman asked.
“If I’m on this full time, maybe a week or more. Unless I get really lucky. There’re just too many variables that have to be explored and eliminated.”
“John ain’t got a week,” Lucas grumbled.
“I’m sorry,” Jessica said. “I really am. But why don’t you just go in and get her? Shield her with something so they can’t get a shot.”
“That’s plan B,” Lucas said. “It’s risky.”
“Riskier than waiting a week?” Jessica asked with an arched eyebrow.
“We need to pull her out,” Chapman said to Lucas. “And we need to do it without fanfare.”
“Wrong,” Lucas said, staring at the ground in thought. “We need to make a fuckin’ circus out of it.”
“Circus out of what?”
All three whirled to see Admiral Packard and his escort of Marines standing a few feet away. He looked over the three of them as he lit a cigarette, eyes coming to rest on Lucas.
“Staff Sergeant Martin. If I’m not mistaken, you’re supposed to be on the mainland with Colonel Chase. Care to explain your presence here in Hawaii?”
Lucas hesitated, then Jessica solved the problem by handing the tablet to the Admiral. He froze when he saw the screen, then slowly looked up.
“Better tell me what’s going on,” he growled. “And while you’re at it, I’d like to know why this is how I’m finding out.”
13
Martinez grumbled inside her head as she slogged along. It was slow going, moving through the deep, soft sand in the bottom of the canyon, but she’d decided against climbing back up the almost sheer walls in the dark. The risk of injury was too great, and she had no illusion about her fate if she broke a leg or ankle. No one would be coming to rescue her.
It was still pitch black and she occasionally stumbled over unseen rocks that were embedded in the canyon floor. Between the loss of the three Rangers and trying to move quietly in a difficult environment, in the dark, she was in a foul mood. Part of her wished for something or someone on which to take out her frustrations. She’d no sooner had the thought than the scream of a female caused her to freeze in place.
The sound echoed through the canyon so that she was unable to locate the source. Controlling her breathing, she carefully looked all around her position, but saw nothing. This didn’t comfort her as an entire army of infected could have been standing twenty yards away and she wouldn’t have been able to see them in the darkness.
A second scream, quickly followed by several more voices rent the night. This time she realized the females were above her on the canyon rim. Still motionless, she looked up and cursed silently when she saw dozens of human forms silhouetted against the starry sky. They were all heading east, away from the coast, and were moving fast.
Martinez didn’t have any idea where they might be going or why, but realized the danger she was in. Something was drawing the infected. Just because the ones she’d seen were up on the rim of the canyon didn’t mean there wouldn’t be others down on the floor with her.
Facing front again, she listened for a moment then took a careful step to the side. She gently tested the ground before shifting her weight. Pausing, she listened again, trying in vain to see if there were any infected stalking her. Sensing nothing, she moved another six inches to the side, wanting to reach the sheer stone wall. While it wouldn’t hide her from any females who happened along, it would at least ensure her back was protected if she had to fight.
As she began to move again, the soft sound of rapid footsteps in sand came to her. Holding her breath, she glanced to the side but couldn’t tell how close to the canyon wall she was. Quickly turning into profile to present as small of a target as possible for the approaching female to spot, she silently drew a knife
and held it at the ready.
She had no intention of engaging the infected unless she wasn’t given a choice. Looking for a fight when there was no reason was a sure-fire way to die young. Despite the circumstances, her mind immediately began trying to remember who had told her that. Before she could come up with the name, the female reached her position.
She thought she was in the clear as the footsteps came even then moved past her position. As the infected passed, Martinez swiveled without moving her feet to keep it to her front. Hope bloomed inside her that the female wasn’t going to detect her presence, but her optimism evaporated as quickly as it had come when the steps came to a sudden halt.
Martinez took a breath, flexing her knees and preparing. From the darkness came a snuffling sound as the female tested the air. The breeze was from the same direction the infected had come from, which was why it hadn’t scented her as it approached. Now, downwind, it knew she was there.
She knew from long experience that the female was going to scream an alert. There weren’t any other footsteps sounding in the darkness, yet, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more infected coming. Waiting for this one to sound the alarm was giving her sisters an opportunity to draw closer.
All of this flashed through Martinez’s mind in an instant, and the decision to attack was made without conscious thought. Extending the blade and raising it to what she hoped was the right level, she lunged blindly forward for the point where the snuffling sound had come from. She had room to take a single step before the knife met resistance.
Pushing hard with her legs, Martinez drove forward, recognizing the feel of steel piercing flesh. Then she caught up with the blade and slammed into the female, the two of them crashing onto the sand. As they hit the ground, she was already withdrawing the knife and plunging it back into the infected’s body as hard and fast as she could. Nearly silent grunts of effort punctuated each thrust.
Several seconds of her brutally attacking the female passed before she realized the infected wasn’t fighting back. Wasn’t attempting to deflect her blows. Wary of a trick, even though she’d never seen one of them feign death in an attempt to surprise its prey, Martinez went still. Her hand, now coated in hot blood, tightly gripped the knife that was buried to the hilt in the body beneath her.
