“Yes, Colonel. We are finished packing all of our research,” Doctor Kosktov answers, with a slight hint of disdain in his voice.
“Doctor Kosktov, this facility, the equipment, the prisoner test subjects, all the research here, and you and your staff are the property of the State,” Colonel Azarov says with a tone to his voice that holds an underlying threat.
The statement and its tone are not lost on Doctors Kosktov and Levonen.
“Doctor Kosktov, in thirty minutes, you will prepare a verbal and written synopsis of your research and alterations of this virus. Your priority will be to focus on the use of this virus as a weapon. Your written report will be given to me prior to your lecture. Is this clear, or do you have any questions?”
“No, Comrade Colonel Azarov. I only ask where you would like to conduct this lecture.”
“We will do it here, close to our prize,” Colonel Azarov replies. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he returns his attention to the observation window and his notepad.
Again, Doctor Kosktov leaves for the laboratory, to correlate and compile the data into a brief synopsis.
Chapter 19
Present
Jim, Chris, and Jeremy steady their nerves near the entrance of the Costco. Chris and Jeremy stare toward the front, at the entrance they’ll take inside. Jim does his best to keep observing a 360-degree area around them.
Recognizing his sons’ tunnel vision since their circumstances permit it, he immediately takes the opportunity corrects them. “Psssst,” Jim issues the sound quietly to get his sons’ attention. Once they snap their eyes on him, he points to his eyes with his index and middle fingers and instructs them in a stage whisper, “Remember, watch your sections.”
Chris and Jeremy remember their assignments and focus on their own area of responsibility for threats. Jeremy backs away slightly from the entrance and turns to keep security on the rear of their formation.
Chris inches a little closer to his dad and focuses his attention on his area, the left flank of their position, AR-15 carbines in the low-ready positions. Jim’s area of responsibility in their formation is ahead and right flank. They had trained this way whenever they had only three working as a team.
It’s clicking, Jim thinks to himself. He knows Chris and Jeremy are smart. He also knows they have no experience operating in hostile situations where people are trying to kill them. Jim takes two quiet and deep, calming breaths to steady his own nerves. Then, in a low voice he says, “Jeremy, Chris. Remember how we trained.”
Both of his sons turn and make eye contact with him, and give a quick nod of their heads. Looking through the intact glass doors and the windows nearby for any movement in his field of view, Jim sees no threats. Their view inside is limited to around twenty-five feet from the doorway.
Jim removes his left hand from the foregrip of his rifle and checks the right-side sliding door. He’s able to get his finger into the gap between the two doors, but not able to slide the door open. Repositioning his AR-15, adjusting his sling so the firearm is positioned to his back, Jim attempts to force the door open again with both hands.
Still unable to move the door more than a fraction of an inch, Jim retrieves a roll of duct tape from his backpack. Deciding he has no other option, Jim elects to break the glass door. Jim begins placing the duct tape on the glass of the doorway.
Jim sees Chris and Jeremy give him quick puzzled looks and quietly informs them, “The tape won’t stop all noise, but it should reduce it.” Jim replaces the tape in his backpack and unslings the pickaxe. Giving a quick look to his sons, he asks “Ready?” They nod, and he turns his attention to the door. Jim grips the axe and pulls it back like a baseball player ready for a pitch. He takes a deep breath and swings with all his might. The force of the impact from the pick side of the axe causes immediate and intense pain to travel up both Jim’s arms, but it doesn’t put a crack in the glass door.
“Shit,” Jim whispers as he looks for a mark on the doorway. Behind him he hears stifled laughter. Winding up again, Jim swings at the doorway and is rewarded with a spider web of cracks. On the third swing of the axe, at least half of the glass doorway is cracked enough to use the blade side of the axe to chop through the glass.
Although the duct tape helped greatly, the glass falling and cracking still seems louder than what Jim would like. Jim replaces the pickaxe on his backpack and readies his rifle. Turning quickly to his sons he says, slightly out of breath, “All right, guys. Let’s go.”
They file in as they’ve practiced. Jim leads them to the edge of the light entering the entrance, and they take a knee and try to let their vision adjust. The building isn’t as dark as they had anticipated; even without power, it is lit by skylights spaced out in the ceiling.
After listening for any indication they’re not alone, they move further in and widen their formation. “Arzu, copy?” Jim calls on the radio.
“I hear you, go ahead.”
“We still good outside?” Jim asks.
“Yes, it looks good right now,” Arzu replies.
“We’re going further inside. Let us know if we have any visitors, OK?”
“OK, you guys, be careful.”
Jim looks to his Chris and Jeremy, and is given a thumbs-up from both. “Let’s see what we can find,” Jim says as he rises from his right knee and begins a crouched walk toward the left interior wall.
Chris and Jeremy fall in behind Jim, Chris keeping watch on their right flank and Jeremy securing their rear flank. As they walk, Jim reminds them of the plan to secure the building. “We move forward, keeping the wall to our left. Then once we complete a circuit, we’ll secure each aisle where we need to get supplies.”
Jim hears two quiet replies of “Got it,” from Jeremy and Chris. Jim realizes this is a far from perfect plan. He knows to properly secure a building of this size; it would take several more armed people and much more time than they can afford to take.
The search along the interior walls goes painfully slowly, but without incident, other than the three of them barely controlling the urge to vomit near the seafood and meats section. They make their way back to the entrance. It’s unspoken, but they know that the interior of the store has enough space to hide many threats.
Chris gets the first turn at pushing their shopping cart as they leave the comfort of the entrance to go deeper into the store. Jim leads them, with Jeremy pulling rear security as they cautiously head to the aisle with bottled water.
About the center of the store, the three of them freeze at the sound of a squealing and wobbling noise that comes from the cart.
“Shit,” Chris whispers.
“Yeah, shit. Nothing much we can do about it now, guys.” Jim says and they resume their foray.
Their cart pushes forward, wobbling, and squealing, echoing throughout the Costco. “Dad,” Chris whispers, causing Jim to halt and turn to look to Chris. Jim smiles as he sees why Chris has stopped them. On the end of the aisle is a display of WD-40. “Glad it wasn’t a snake,” Jim says to Chris and Jeremy as he turns back around to cover his section. A few sprays later, Chris quietly says, “OK, go ahead.”
Minus the squeal and with a great reduction in the wobbling, they continue on, passing by some aisles containing items they need, but not as much as they need water and food. Reaching the aisle containing water and sports drinks, Jim has Chris and Jeremy pause and wait until he goes further down to the end.
He checks low shelves cast in shadow as he walks in a crouch with his rifle muzzle, tracking with his eyes. Reaching the far end of the aisle, Jim signals for Chris to start loading cases of water. “If you need a break, let me know,” Jim instructs Chris as he turns back to face away from the aisle. Jeremy takes up a position where they entered the aisle to provide security as well.
Although it seems like an eternity, the large shopping cart is filled with several cases of water quickly by Chris, and they make their first trip to the entrance. With the frame of the door creating a
n obstacle, Jim lifts the front of the cart over the frame, with Chris pushing while Jeremy provides overwatch.
After haphazardly unloading the cart into the MRAP, they take a glance around the exterior and head back inside the store.
Chapter 20
Present
This time, Jeremy has the task of loading the cart as they go through the same procedure, loading water and some sports drinks. On their way back out to the MRAP, Jim has them pause, and directs Jeremy to grab as many containers of roast and instant coffee as he can stack in the cart.
The second trip goes smoothly like the first, and they return to the interior a third time, this time Jim taking the cart duties, with Chris and Jeremy providing security.
Knowing they have a fairly good supply of food, although they’ll need more, Jim decides next on the list is jerry cans for fuel and possibly water storage.
On their way to the automotive area of the store, they come upon the aisle with cleaning items. Jim signals to his sons and they provide security while he gathers some bleach, dish soap, laundry detergent, and several containers of handy-wipes.
The three continue to the automotive section. Once both ends of the aisle are secured by his sons, Jim starts picking through items as quickly as possible, not finding as many jerry cans as he’d like: only four blue fifty gallon plastic cans.
Jim places the cans, jumper cables, and a toolbox with tools into the cart. Pleased with the find, he also grabs several spotlights. Jim then notices something he hadn’t thought to get: storage containers. He makes a mental note to get some on the next trip in, and then grabs every ratchet-strap and all the bungee cords he can find and tosses them in the cart.
With a full load, they make their way toward their exit. Chris, in the lead of their formation, glances to the left down aisle fifteen, points his rifle down the aisle and says, “Contact left.”
Prior to hearing Chris call out, Jim noticed his movement, shifted the cart to the right and brought his rifle to a low-ready position. Checking the integrity of their right flank, Jim sees Jeremy go into action as they trained. Jeremy stops and faces the rear of their little formation with his weapon ready.
Although it isn’t, it seems like an eternity before Chris speaks again. Just as Jim is about to ask, Chris speaks. “Hands up and get on your knees!” Seeing no reaction, Chris repeats his command.
“Not moving, Dad,” Chris says with tension in his voice, while staring down his sights at the silhouette toward the far end of the aisle. The shadowy figure doesn’t move. It stands in a hunched position, Chris assumes staring at him. He can feel its eyes boring into him. Chris feels his heart pounding in his chest like it’s going to explode through his ribcage.
He opens his mouth to ask his dad to have a look, and before he utters a sound, he hears the shadow make a wet-sounding low growl and sprint towards him. Jim is trying his best not to look over to either of his sons, especially towards Chris, where he knows he’s facing someone or something. He covers his section.
Jeremy, with his eyes and AR-15 tracking as one, searches from his left to right, looking for threats. The shadowy, human-shaped figure closes quickly on Chris. He yells, “Stop,” once more, and then he rapidly, but controllably, sends six rounds into its center mass by double-tapping the trigger three times.
Jim and Jeremy both hear Chris’s order to stop, and then involuntarily jump when the first report of the rifle reaches their ears. At almost the same instant, Jeremy sees four obviously infected people sprinting toward him from the rancid frozen food section. “I’ve got four, they’re coming out of the freezers!” he yells out to his dad and Chris.
Jim takes a quick look to his right, in the direction of the freezers. He sees Jeremy take aim with his rifle. Before he hears or sees any rounds sent toward the attackers, he turns back to his area of responsibility and is met by the sight of two infected halfway in the aisle and sprinting in his direction.
Chris watches as his attacker falls face first with no attempt to break its fall and then slide a couple of feet before coming to a stop. Jim opens fire on his two growling attackers, dropping both quickly. He hears the volley of fire from Chris’s weapon, and then the last three shots from Jeremy’s as he looks for more infected in his section. In the lull, he asks Chris and Jeremy “OK?” and he receives a “Yeah,” and a “Good,” from Jeremy and then Chris.
“What the fuck!” Chris exclaims.
“The fuckers were in here the whole damn time,” Jeremy half asks and half makes a statement.
“Check your surroundings,” Jim whispers and holds up his left hand. Chris and Jeremy do a fast look to their dad and then began searching for more infected closing in. From the direction of the entrance, the route they were taking, they hear the rapid pounding of feet growing closer.
Doing a quick 360 visual, Jim orders his sons down the aisle where Chris’s dead attacker lies in a pool of blood. Stepping cautiously around the body, Jim has Jeremy and Chris take a position behind him, facing the end of the aisle.
Jim takes a knee and focuses his attention on the aisle they just entered. “What about the gas?” Chris asks.
“It works, but then it’ll be all over everything we want to take with us in the MRAP. Last resort,” Jim answers.
The sound of feet and shoes hitting the floor getting louder, they now hear the low growling of the infected. They steady themselves, as the sounds seem not only to be growing louder but also multiplying in numbers.
Jim is ready to engage at the first sight of infected entering the aisle, aiming his AR-15 in that direction, safety off and all senses heightened. Suddenly he hears gunshots behind him. Jim then hears both his sons yell out simultaneously “Contact!” And at the same time, the aisle on Jim’s side fills with the sight of at least ten infected.
They begin slipping, sliding, and falling over each other as they try to be the first to get to him and his sons. Jim opens up his AR-15, double-tapping each infected then quickly moving to the next. Click. Jim’s rifle empty, he slides it to his left side with his left hand while at the same time, with his right hand, he draws his Glock 17 from the drop-leg holster.
Quickly taking aim, Jim fires twelve 9mm rounds, two rounds per infected. Two more shots ring out from behind him and then stop. With no more infected entering the aisle, Jim quickly changes the magazine in his Glock; holstering it, he reloads his AR-15.
“Clear,” Jim says.
He’s immediately rewarded by an echoed reply, and sounds of Chris and Jeremy reloading their firearms. Then silence. The only thing any of them hears are the sounds of each other’s heavy breathing and ringing in their ears. The smell of cordite, blood, urine, and released bowels is heavy in the air.
After a few more seconds of listening and looking, Jeremy says, “Cleanup on aisle one-fifteen, please.” Jim looks up to see they are actually in aisle one hundred and fifteen.
“Funny,” Chris replies and gives a little chuckle.
“Keep sharp, guys,” Jim warns as he tries not to laugh at the gallows humor.
Unsuccessful, Jim issues a chuckle as well. They immediately stop when they hear growling among them.
“Some are still alive,” Chris quietly says.
“You two split up. Jeremy, come by me and watch out. Chris, you stay and do the same.”
Jim hears Jeremy quietly approach from behind and then touch his left shoulder. Jim moves to the right while Jeremy takes his place. “Turning on my light,” Jim warns and clicks on the light mounted on his rifle to get a better view of what their actions have wrought. “Eyes out. I’m firing,” Jim warns his sons of the impending sounds of gunfire.
Normally, Jim would not kill an injured person; but this is different. These infected could pass on the disease to anyone else that happens into the store, spreading whatever this is even more. Thinking his actions may be for naught, he presses forward and finishes the lives of three of the remaining infected.
Jim, Chris, and Jeremy cautiously make thei
r way out of the aisle to their overloaded cart, and then out to the MRAP. After filling Arzu in on what happened inside the Costco, and checking for approaching infected or other possible threats, they make three more trips inside and out before leaving to try to gather other supplies.
Chapter 21
Present
Once their supplies, and they, are loaded into the back of the MRAP, Jim, Chris, and Jeremy try to maneuver around all their recently acquired provisions, making their way toward the driver’s seat.
Arzu, twisted in her seat, looks over each of them from head to toe, for injuries. “What happened in there? I heard a lot of shooting.” She yells the question at Jim with a look of concern.
“We ran into some infected,” Jim answers after a pause and then half sits, half collapses onto the front passenger seat. Chris and Jeremy take seats nearby in much the same exhausted flop as their father.
“Let’s reload and then head to the Tractor Supply store, it’s not far from here,” Jim says as he removes empty AR-15 magazines from his pocket. Chris and Jeremy do the same, Jeremy placing the aluminum ammo box within easy reach of the three of them as they all reload.
Chris asks, “What’s at the tractor place that we need?” Arzu and Jeremy also look to Jim for his answer.
“We need to carry as much fuel as we can to feed this beast,” Jim says while continuing to load 5.56 mm cartridges into his composite magazine. “The store should have some fuel tanks; they use them on farms and ranches to transport fuel for equipment,” Jim finishes his thoughts, places a newly-filled magazine into pouches on his chest rig, and looks to his family.
Arzu twists back to face the windshield, places the automatic transmission into drive, and begins to pull away from the Costco entrance. “You guys buckle up,” she says as she heads northwest toward their next stop.
Omega Pathogen: Mayhem Page 9
