by Dirk Patton
19
Martinez had been walking for what seemed like hours in the pitch-black canyon. The footing was treacherous because of the deep, soft sand that concealed the occasional rock. After the second time she’d tripped and landed on her face, she’d taken to dragging her feet, much like a sullen child.
This had solved the problem of falling but made the going even more difficult and had drastically slowed her progress. Several times she’d been ready to climb the vertical canyon walls so she could move across the hard-packed terrain above, but the thought of trying to do so in the dark had caused her to remain on her current path.
As she slowly progressed, a marine layer rolled in off the ocean, bringing dense fog and chilling her to the bone. Her hair was plastered flat with moisture and mist beaded on her face. She was about as miserable as she’d ever been but refused to give in to the discomfort and find somewhere to rest. With no idea how close she was to the beach, she hunched her shoulders against the weather and plodded along as quietly as she could.
Martinez remembered a lesson John had taught her about how to keep going when the body is crying out for you to stop. Think about something else. Disconnect the mind so it isn’t being constantly bombarded by the physical pain. But try as she might, she couldn’t figure out how she was supposed to do that.
She tried thinking about a dozen different things, but her mind quickly came back around to worrying about her current situation. Her cold and aching body demanded attention and the brain was only too happy to listen. Every step was a struggle against the desire to stop. She recognized it wouldn’t be long before she would lose the battle.
Ten minutes passed, feeling like an eternity. With a sigh of resignation, Martinez decided to stop for a brief rest. Moving closer to the canyon wall, she was preparing to ease herself down to a seat on the sand when a soft sound from behind sent a jolt of adrenaline flowing through her veins. Whirling, she froze and stared intently in the direction she thought the noise had come from.
It was quiet, the dense fog muting sounds and shrinking the world around her to a small cocoon. She tightly gripped her rifle and carefully moved the selector off the safe setting as she tried to see or hear anything. After several minutes, during which the only sound was her heart pounding in her ears, Martinez slowly began moving again.
This time, she abandoned the shuffling method of walking in the sand for even more tedious and slower steps. One foot at a time, gently placed to test for anything that could cause her to trip or make a noise and give away her position. She hadn’t covered more than ten yards when a figure suddenly loomed out of the fog and lunged at her.
Martinez raised her rifle as it slammed into her, twisting and pushing in an effort to deflect the attack. Whomever or whatever it was latched onto the weapon as she managed to redirect its momentum. Rather than battling to maintain a grip, she released her hold, surprising her assailant and throwing him off balance.
As the figure twirled away, Martinez drew her knife and spun to face the danger. She held the blade low at her side, ready to thrust out and up when she had a target. But even though the attacker was probably no more than a few feet away, he was completely hidden by the dark and the fog.
Not wanting to give her opponent the opportunity to reset and possibly even use her own rifle against her, she charged blindly into the impenetrable wall of mist. One arm was up, shielding her body, and she was prepared to strike with the blade the instant she made contact. But whatever had attacked her wasn’t where she expected it to be.
Skidding to a stop in the sand, Martinez whirled when she realized she’d been baited, but it was too late. She was blindsided by a tackle that sent the knife flying out of her hand, then she was face down on the sand with a body on top. Rocketing an elbow back, she heard a deep grunt of pain when it solidly connected, then a vicious blow to the side of her head left her seeing stars.
Twisting beneath her attacker, she threw more elbows and absorbed a brutal punch to her lower back that nearly paralyzed her with pain. Then an arm snaked around her throat and clamped into place with frightening strength, restricting her breathing and the flow of blood to her brain. Knowing she only had seconds before the lack of oxygen would render her unconscious, she began tearing at the arm and managed to rise to her knees with the much heavier body riding on her back.
With strength born of fear, she managed to loosen the constriction on her neck as the assailant locked his legs around hers and sent both of them crashing back to the sand. Still tearing at the arm, she fought like a wildcat, finally managing to work her mouth to a point where she could bring her teeth into the fight.
Throwing another elbow, she took a hard punch to the side of the face as she bit down with every ounce of pressure she could muster. Hot breath exploded against the side of her face as the attacker grunted in pain, then he reached around with his free hand and fumbled for her eyes.
A growl escaped Martinez’s throat as she savaged the flesh, jerking her head from side to side to protect her eyes from the probing fingers. Hot blood spurted into her mouth and a louder grunt sounded as her hair was grabbed. With a savage jerk, he managed to rip her mouth away from his arm and she spun in his grip and clawed at his face as she brought up a knee.
She could tell she missed her target, the blow impacting on the attacker’s thigh, but there was enough force to gain a slight separation. He was retreating now, having taken more punishment than she had, and she kicked out, opening some more space. Getting into a crouch, Martinez was prepared to launch herself like a missile when she heard the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn from a sheath.
The man was nothing more than a slightly darker spot in the fog, but she faced him and prepared herself for the attack. Planned how she would contort her body so the knife thrust slipped harmlessly past, then wrap up the attacker’s arm and use all her weight to break his elbow. For a beat, nothing happened, the only sound the heavy breathing coming from both of them.
“C’mon, bitch,” he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear.
Martinez was caught by surprise. She knew she hadn’t been battling an infected and had assumed a Russian soldier had found her. But just because the man had spoken English didn’t mean he was friendly and the whole fight had simply been a case of mistaken identity.
“Fuck you, puto,” she hissed back. “Come and get some more.”
The man didn’t immediately respond, and she could tell she’d caught him by surprise when his heavy breathing went quiet.
“American?” he finally asked, sounding as surprised as she was.
“Do I sound like a goddamn Russian?”
“Who the hell are you?” he asked.
“The meanest fucking bitch you’ve ever met, pendejo!”
He was quiet for a moment then surprised her again when he chuckled.
“Nah. You ain’t my ex-girlfriend.”
Martinez stared at the dark form in the fog, tensing when he slowly stood to his full height.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked.
“Fuck me,” he said a moment later.
“What?”
“You’re Dagger One Seven!”
It took a moment for everything to click with Martinez. Dagger One Seven was the call sign she’d used while talking to the SEAL she was trying to rescue.
“Are you fucking kidding?” she asked. “Chief Strickland?”
“In the flesh. Now, can we---”
He went silent and both of them snapped their heads up when the scream of a female echoed through the canyon. It was confused by the fog and they were unable to tell which direction it came from. A beat later, an answering scream shattered the night, sounding much too close for comfort.
“We’d better move,” Strickland said softly, stepping forward and shoving Martinez’s rifle into her arms.
20
Lucas paced the floor like a caged lion. Four Marines were bent over computers, communicating with teams who were con
ducting the room by room search of Pearl Harbor for Rachel and Mavis. A Marine Captain named Anderson oversaw the activity, constantly moving from station to station as reports came in.
“Nothing,” Jessica said when Lucas loomed over her work area.
“How can there be nothing?” he asked, restraining himself from taking his frustration out on her. “There’s bleedin’ cameras everywhere! They didn’t just turn into ghosts.”
“It’s going to take time. Yes, there’re a lot of cameras, but the system is a patchwork. Some of them are actually still recording to VHS tape and there’s no way to access the images without physically connecting to the recorder. So... yeah. It’s going to take time.”
Lucas started to open his mouth to remind her how important this was but shut it before he said anything. He well knew just how many times Jessica had saved the day and that she didn’t need him pushing her. If there was surveillance footage that would help them, she’d find it.
Mumbling under his breath, he turned and nearly tripped. Dog was shadowing him, refusing to lie down and stay out of the way. Unable to be angry at him, Lucas reached down and gently rubbed his head.
“Where’d they go?” he asked, looking into Dog’s eyes.
Dog let out with a long, soft whine.
“And why wouldn’t they take him?” Jessica asked without looking up from her screen. “He goes everywhere with them. Well, everywhere he can.”
Lucas glanced over his shoulder at her, then turned back to Dog. Looked into his eyes for a long moment as he continued to rub his head. With a start, he suddenly whirled to look at the Marine officer.
“Captain, what about the hospital?”
“What about it?” Anderson asked with a frown.
“Anyone check with them?”
The Marine looked at him for a beat before snatching a phone off a table and stabbing in a series of numbers.
“Haven’t checked,” he said as he waited for his call to be answered. “Guess we figured someone would know if that’s where they were.”
He turned slightly away and spoke rapidly to whomever answered, then stood impatiently waiting for an answer. When he’d first had the thought, Lucas had been excited, optimistic he’d solved the mystery. But as he thought about it, he couldn’t imagine Rachel having gone to the hospital without Ziggy knowing. The two women had become fast friends and Rachel would have wanted her to know something was wrong. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth checking.
“She’s not checked in,” Captain Anderson said, the phone still cradled between his shoulder and ear. “They’re checking the waiting rooms and doing a sweep of the patient floors. Just in case.”
Lucas met his eyes and nodded. He glanced at Jessica, but she was bent over her computer, hard at work.
“Any news, Staff Sergeant?”
Lucas turned, surprised to see Admiral Packard.
“No, sir,” he said with a shake of his head. “We just thought to check the hospital. Somewhere she would go that she couldn’t take the mutt.”
The Admiral looked down at Dog, nodding his agreement.
“Good idea. But something isn’t sitting right with me about this whole thing.”
“Sir?”
“The Russian woman is using the Colonel’s family to coerce him into doing her bidding. That’s a risky proposition with him, at best. Especially faking the whole sniper scenario. She’s built the entire premise on a house of cards. Any of a number of things could have exposed the truth and he would have been merciless in punishing her.”
“Desperation,” Lucas said.
“Explain.”
“We still don’t know what she wants with John. Not for sure. We’re assuming it’s as simple as his blood, but what if there’s more to it?”
“Not sure I follow your thinking, Staff Sergeant.”
“We know she planned to eliminate Barinov. Probably still hopes to pull that off. She doesn’t need to control John for that. She just needs to point him in the right direction, then sit back and wait. The ruse she fabricated only needed to hold up long enough for her to convince him that she could deliver the one thing he wants almost more than anything. Barinov’s head on a pike. And there was less chance of it failing than you might think. John himself sent me back rather than making a simple call because the Russians had penetrated our secure comms. What on the surface appears to be a fragile deception is actually smarter than we initially believed.”
The Admiral considered Lucas’s words for a few moments before shaking his head.
“Then where are Rachel and Mavis? Are you saying there’s a reasonable answer and they’re safe? It’s the middle of the night and they aren’t to be found.”
“Can’t explain that, sir,” Lucas said. “But if there really were Russian agents on the base that were holding them against their will, why fake the snipers? There would be no need.”
“Perhaps,” Packard acknowledged, but his tone was doubtful.
“Another thing, sir,” Lucas said, looking pointedly at Dog. “He’s alive and there’s not a body lying in John’s quarters. There’s no way he’d allow Rachel and Mavis to be taken by force. They left willingly, sir. I’m sure of it.”
The Admiral turned his attention to Dog and after a long pause began to nod agreement.
“Good point, Staff Sergeant. So, where are they?”
Lucas threw his hands up in frustration and shrugged his shoulders.
“Got them!”
Jessica’s shout galvanized both men and they rushed to her work station.
“Where?” Lucas asked as Captain Anderson rushed to stand beside the Admiral.
Jessica looked at him with a satisfied smile on her face.
“You’re not going to believe this!”
“Chief!” the Admiral barked.
“Sorry, sir,” she said, sounding anything but. “They’re at the base theater.”
“Excuse me?” all three men exclaimed in unison.
Jessica glanced down at her screen before answering.
“The base movie theater. It’s running around the clock since we’re on lockdown. Give people a couple of hours to think about something other than---”
“Chief, damn it. I know why. I ordered it,” the Admiral snapped, exasperation clear in his voice.
“Midnight double feature, sir,” she said with an unabashed grin. “Maybe they couldn’t sleep so they went to see a show.”
“Fuck me running,” Lucas breathed in relief.
21
As I began running along the edge of the pavement, I allowed the berserker inside free reign over my emotions. The time for subtlety was over. Now I fed on the rage coursing through me, using it to push harder. Counting on it to carry me through a battle with Viktoriya when I caught up with her.
I wasn’t fooling myself. She may have been smaller than me, but I well knew how strong the infected females were. Pound for pound, she was almost certainly stronger than me. Fortunately, I was at least double her body weight. That didn’t mean she was any less of a threat. I was willing to bet she was faster and nimbler. But none of that would matter. Not once I got my hands wrapped around her throat.
Rachel! I’d gotten so wrapped up in my thoughts of killing Viktoriya, I’d forgotten to check the tablet. Pulling it out, I frowned when the screen didn’t immediately come to life. Slowing to a walk, then a stop, I pressed several buttons in hopes it had just gone to sleep.
Nothing worked. Cursing under my breath, I kept pressing the power button in hopes of initiating a reset. Focused on the device and distracted by my own frustration, I was caught completely unprepared when a body slammed into me like a missile.
The tablet flew out of my hands to skitter across the asphalt. I landed hard, the impact knocking the wind out of my lungs and briefly stunning me. For a terrifying instant, my body refused to respond to the attack. I lay there, aware that strong hands were trying to rip the Russian pistol out of mine.
Then Viktoriya thrust her f
ace at me and screamed. Her breath was hot as I raised an arm in time to block her snapping teeth from reaching my throat. With a savage twist, she tore the weapon from my grasp, sending it sliding across the pavement.
Pressing the attack, she managed to slip a hand through and slashed my face open with her nails, nearly taking out an eye in the process. Rolling up onto her, I slammed a fist into her ribs and felt her breath whoosh out across my face. She began pounding her knees into me in an attempt to crush my balls, but I was able to absorb the blows on my thigh and hip.
Unleashing a series of punches to her head, I slithered away from her and followed through with an elbow to the side of her face. How her neck wasn’t broken by the impact is beyond me, but she managed to roll away and leap to her feet.
I was instantly after her, lunging to wrap her legs in my arms and pull her to the ground. But I grabbed nothing but empty air. She’d seen what I was doing and leapt clear, turning and racing away into the desert.
Jumping up, I charged after her, ignoring the blood that poured out of all the nasty wounds her teeth and nails had opened. Pushing hard, I ran faster than I ever had in my life. The virus strengthened me and rage fueled my pursuit, but within the first fifty yards it was painfully obvious I couldn’t catch Viktoriya.
She was moving at least as fast as I’d ever seen an infected female run. Despite my newfound speed, I was still having to propel more than double her body weight and there was no way I could keep up. But just because she had the advantage didn’t mean I was giving up. Not by a long shot.
But I had a problem. I was upwind, unable to track her by scent, and she was quickly outdistancing me. I was already losing sight of her when she’d run around the back of a low hill or through a wash. Once I no longer had visual contact, it would be easy for her to circle around and attack me again. And if she went back to the road, she’d be able to retrieve the pistol I’d lost during our fight. Fuck!
