Chapter 7
DARPA facility, Nevada Desert
Shark Platoon was packing their personal gear into borrowed Pelican-Hardigg cases when Captain Heller knocked on the door frame.
“Bus leaves in 20, you guys going to be ready to roll by then?”
Willis looked over at the Air Force officer then at his men before replying.
“We’re good to go right now,” he said slinging his pack over one shoulder and walking out the door. The rest of his team followed their OIC as he strode down the hall. Some of the Super Geeks and Phreaks watched them walk by, pressing themselves against the wall as the SEALs passed. All the men had their game face on, a bulging pack on their back and carried their weapons in hand or slung over their shoulder. Heller ran ahead to lead them to the departure area. Shark Platoon had mixed feelings about leaving this facility. They had stumbled onto it after leaving Nellis Air Force Base. Nellis had been their primary extraction site once they had secured their High Value Package, a man who might have a clue about the infection and a way to stop it. Willis let his mind wander back to their high speed escape from the air force installation that had been overrun by hordes of the mindless infected. They had barely left the perimeter of the base and made it to the desert when a massive explosion incinerated the majority of the installation and its underground warren along with the thousands of the infected that had invaded it. Several theories had been bandied about in the weeks since their arrival. Had the detonation of the base been caused by a failsafe device or had someone in a command position authorized the use of special demolition munitions to remove the horde that had swarmed the previously remote and very secure installation? The air force officer they had found in the desert led Willis to believe that it might have been an accidental event given the severe injuries to the man and the blast damage to the vehicle he had been in.
“Lieutenant,” a voice called out as Willis walked past an intersecting hallway interrupting his thoughts. The young officer, by SEAL standards, turned and looked in that direction. Candi Reed and Ronald Chambers greeted Willis while the rest of Shark stopped and filled the hallway.
“Billy, keep the boys moving,” Willis directed watching Heller continue on his way not noticing that the SEALs had stopped when their OIC had.
“Copy that,” Chief Rogers replied. “You heard the man, move out ladies,” he ordered the team, then nodded to the couple that the detachment had spent time with on their journey across the desert before continuing down the hall.
“Doctor, Mrs. Chambers,” Willis said nodding his head to them.
“We heard you were heading out. I was hoping you’d be able to stay a little longer,” Chambers said. Reed unexpectedly stepped forward and hugged Willis.
“Thank you for all you’ve done for us,” she said squeezing him.
Willis, not knowing how to react, hesitantly brought one arm around and returned the hug. Reed stepped back, her eyes a little watery and looked up at him with a wane smile. Willis reached down and removed a rectangular, white box from the thigh pocket of his uniform and handed it to Reed.
“Found this in the arms room. Those are .38 but they’ll work in your sidearm.” Reed accepted the plain white box, looking down at it and reading the military abbreviation for small arms ammunition before looking back at him.
“Thank you,” she said.
There were several seconds of awkward silence as the three of them looked at each other.
“I have to go, the boy’s are waiting,” Willis said, shifting his pack to his other shoulder and switching his rifle to that same hand before extending his right hand towards Chambers.
“Doc, it’s been an adventure,” he said shaking the researcher’s hand. “Best of luck with your work,” he added.
Turning to Reed, “Ma’am, it’s been an experience,” he said with a lopsided grin as he shook her hand. He turned and walked away to catch up with his team.
“People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf,” Chambers muttered quietly as he watched Willis walk away.
“What was that?” Reed asked, looking at him.
“Just a quote I read a long time ago,” Chambers said.
“Do you think we’ll ever see them again?” Reed asked quietly.
Putting his arm around Reeds shoulders, Chambers pulled her tight against him.
“I don’t know. I hope so.”
“They’re still calling me Mrs. Chambers,” Reed said putting her hands on his shoulders and turning him to look at her. “Why don’t we make that official?” she asked with a smile.
***
Willis jogged to catch up with his team. The members of Shark Platoon had just turned a corner and were heading down a stairwell when Willis caught up with Smith who was bringing up the rear.
“Ell-tee,” Smith greeted with a nod.
“Where’s Heller taking us?” Willis asked.
“Don’t know. I’m just along for the ride myself,” Smith said with a grin as he lifted up his end of the hard case to clear the stairwell railing. Willis looked at him sideways with a raised eyebrow.
“Heller!” Willis called down the stairs.
There was a shuffling of feet from the lower landing as the young Air Force captain craned his head up to see who was calling his name.
“Lieutenant Willis. I didn’t see you all the way in the back,” Heller said. Willis waited for his team to file through the open door at the base of the stairs before he moved down the stairs to stand next to the other officer.
“Where are we going?” Willis asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry. This is a transit system that we use to travel between here and other places,” Heller explained.
“Other places?” Willis asked.
“Yes, other places,” Heller said nodding his head knowingly.
Realizing he wasn’t going to get anymore information out of the Air Force captain, Willis stepped through the doorway.
Inside, the room looked like a first class lounge that one would see at a major airport. The large, flat panel television screens hanging on the walls were blank. In other times, Willis presumed that these screens might have shown cable news or maybe even arrival/departure information. On the wall was a sign with arrows designating three other transit lines by color. At the far end of the room were four connected mass transit coaches that reminded Willis of the Washington D.C. metro. His team was milling around looking at the room with its high ceilings and comfortable furniture. There was an unmanned espresso cart off to the side along with a magazine/newspaper stand that added to the ambiance of the room being a transportation terminal.
“Right this way,” Heller directed as he walked to the lead car.
The SEALs entered the car and stacked the heavy cases on the floor. Heller smiled then tapped in a code on the numerical pad on the interior of the car before swiping a keycard through the slot next to the pad. The doors hissed closed and the tram began to move.
“Captain, where does this go?” Willis asked as the tram picked up speed.
“This line takes us to Groom Lake,” Heller replied.
“What about the other lines?” Rogers asked.
“Sorry, chief, that’s need to know,” Heller replied jovially as he rocked back and forth on his toes and heels, hands in his pockets. Willis looked out the windows; the ride was exceptionally smooth and the tunnel lit only by small maintenance lights.
“Smooth ride,” Webb commented noticing as Willis had.
“Maglev,” Heller stated as if that explained everything.
“You’re just a regular treasure trove of information there, captain,” Hannaberry commented. Heller smiled, still rocking back and forth with the moving of the tram.
The tram slowed then stopped at an identical station but with a different color scheme. The doors hissed open and Heller stepped out.
“Gentlemen, we have arrived,” he announced.
Shark Platoon followed H
eller out then looked around before he led them to a set of wide stairs leading up. At the top of the stairs was a set of large steel doors with a CCTV camera that slowly swiveled to follow the SEALs movement. Willis had noted the cameras as soon as he had stepped out of the maglev. Heller walked to one side of the doors and looked into the retinal scanner. A green light came on and the doors opened.
Just inside was another checkpoint manned by four Air Force security police in full tactical gear who stood behind a thick, clear Lexan wall. Heller smiled and waved as they watched impassively. He pressed his right palm against a reader then leaned forward and did another retinal scan. A door shaped opening in the clear wall retracted into the ceiling allowing them entry. Heller waved again as he passed by the security station.
The only response from the security detachment was their eyes and weapons as they tracked Heller and the SEALs. The door slid silently back into place behind them. On entry, Willis realized that it was a form of capture cage. The Air Force personnel were separated from anyone entering by another thick wall of Lexan only that wall had firing ports cut into it. Heller placed his palm against another reader to gain access to the door at the end of the capture cage. This door looked like a normal door but hissed when it did open signifying a positive pressure zone. Heller opened the door wider with some effort then stepped aside to allow the SEALs entry. Once they were all inside, he let the door close behind them with a solid boom followed by hissing as the air pressure was equalized.
“Welcome to Groom Lake,” Heller said spreading his arms to encompass the room.
The room they had entered looked like a reception area, couches, magazines on the tables even potted plants and a receptionist desk. Looking closer, Willis saw that the reception desk was unmanned and the potted plants were coated in cobwebs. A level of dust was on everything with exception to a clear footpath bisecting the room. This terminal had been deserted for a very long time for that amount of dust to form. Heller led them through the room to a set of double door that opened into a large hallway. In the hall a squad of Air Force security in full tactical gear waited for them. The senior NCO saluted Heller then turned and started walking down the hall, the rest of his squad forming a cordon around the SEALs and guiding them along. No attempt was made to disarm the SEALs and no assistance was offered or expected in regard to the large cases that contained their gear.
They walked in silence down the windowless hallway passing numerous doors that had nothing more than a numerical designation above them and a combination keypad and card swipe for entry until reaching a set of solid double doors. The USAF NCO produced a card key, swiped it through the slot then stepped aside as the doors opened. Heller walked through followed by the rest of Shark and the doors closed behind them. Willis glanced back as their guides remained in the hall. The room they had stepped into looked like a hangar given the height of the ceiling.
He could see the tail of a large aircraft above the Conex containers and aircraft maintenance scaffolding in front of him. The floor was highly polished concrete that reflected the light cast down from the overhead fixtures. Stepping out from behind the containers, Willis was stopped by the ground security element that formed a perimeter around the aircraft. From his position, he could still see how the aircraft dominated the hangar. The paint scheme was an off white with tinges of gray in subtle swirls almost like a camouflage pattern.
He noted a few odd protrusions on the fuselage. Radomes, sensor nodules dotted the surface of the aircraft. There were several above the cockpit and another on the nose. Willis finally recognized the aircraft. It was a highly modified Boeing 747-400, he had seen one in a documentary several years ago. At the base of the air stairs, more Air Force security personnel stood guard. After he was over the initial shock of seeing a NAOC plane in real life, Willis noticed the mechanics working around it. What had confused him was that normally the plane had the United States logo painted on the side. This one had nothing but a faint USAF emblem.
“Goddamn,” Hannaberry muttered. “That is one big plane.”
“Yes it is, sailor.” A voice responded from behind them.
The SEALs turned to look behind them. Three Air Force officers stood there. The one on the far right had two subdued stars on his ABUs while the other two wore flight suits. Willis and Heller came to attention and saluted. The general officer returned their salutes.
“Stand at ease,” Air Force General Bruce Grant stated as he looked over the SEALs and their gear. “Your team looks like they’re ready, lieutenant,” Grant observed.
“Yes sir. We’re ready to go into harm’s way.”
“Your rides about ready to go,” Grant stated looking over at the other two officers. “This is Colonel Winters and Major Brock,” he stated. “They’ll get you where you need to go.” Grant glanced down at his watch. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. I have an installation to run. Best of luck.” The officers came to attention and saluted Grant before he left. Once the general had left the hangar, Winters looked at Willis.
“Lieutenant?”
“Willis, Colonel.”
Winters nodded.
“Lieutenant Willis, we need to get you and your team squared away inside. Major Brock will see to that,” Winters stated.
Brooks led the team up the stairs into the interior of the 747-400.
“I don’t need to tell you to not touch anything,” Brock said as he led the SEALs past the Battle Staff section and up towards the sparse executive seating area. Willis, having never been inside a NAOC, expected it to be less cramped. Seeing the interior stuffed with technicians manning their consoles and the narrow passageways that bypassed those areas were not what he expected.
Past the Battle Staff and Communications sections was a small seating area squeezed into the forward part of the fuselage. Just off of that was a lavatory not much larger than a locker. Up the circular stairs that they had passed was the crew rest area and the flight deck. There were no windows in the seating area they were assigned to.
“Lieutenant, this is your area,” Brock said indicating the seats. “They’re comfortable but there isn’t a whole lot of room to stretch out in. No in-flight meal service but there’s some MREs in the forward compartment. You can store your gear here,” he said indicating the small hall in front of the lavatory. Make sure you use the tie-downs, we don’t want those cases flying around if we hit turbulence,” he said, indicating the recessed rings on the floor for securing cargo and the hard cases the SEALs had brought onboard. “These are the best seats in the house, except ours of course,” Brock added with a grin.
“Thank you, major. I think we can manage.” Brock nodded then headed back in the direction of the stairs for the flight deck.
Heller, who had followed them onboard, looked around the compartment.
“Hope you guys find what you’re looking for,” he said with a smile.
“So do I, captain, so do I,” Willis said as he walked over to the younger officer. “Thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”
“Shit. I should be thanking you. When you guys showed up at our door that was the most excitement we’d had since the cafeteria started serving Tofu.”
Willis smiled as he stuck out his hand. Heller shook it with enthusiasm.
“See you later, swabbie,” Heller said.
“Not if I see you first, wing wiper,” Willis replied.
Heller nodded then went back down the stairs passing Winters on the way up. The colonel nodded to the SEALs then made his way up to the flight deck.
The E4B was pulled out of the hangar and onto the apron where the ground crew did one final visual check before retreating back inside the hangar. For a plane its size, the 747-400 was agile on the ground. Lining up on the runway, Winters and Brock went through the final pre-flight checklist while they waited for the ground security detail to board and secure the hatches. Once they had a green board, they pushed the throttles forward. The large jet turbine engines thrust the passen
gers and crew back into their seats as the huge plane raced down the runway and leapt into the air.
Once the plane had reached its cruising altitude, Smith got up and pulled out an MRE from the storage bin. Returning to his seat and using the blade on his multi-tool, he sliced off the top of the plastic pouch and poked around inside.
“Shit,” he muttered tossing down a small package. “Charms,”
The other SEALs looked at him then watched the small package of candy roll to a stop against the forward bulkhead. Each man returned to what they were doing ignoring the candy and Smith. Mentally, they were concerned. Service personnel who had received Charms candy in their meals had dubbed them ‘Unlucky Charms’ due to what had happened afterwards. In every case, each soldier, sailor, airman, or Marine had been killed or horribly injured. Of course, this was just coincidence but the myth that Charms candy brought bad luck fermented over the years.
“Ell-tee, what’s the op?” Rogers asked from his seat next to Webb.
“Need to know Chief. JCS was totally compartmentalized on the intel they sent over,” Willis replied as he looked around the cabin. Since exiting the tram at Area 51, he had been bothered by something and he couldn’t place what it was. Leaning closer to Rogers, he asked, “Billy, you notice anything out of the ordinary?”
Rogers sat back in his seat before replying.
“You mean besides the world going all walking dead?” Rogers cast a sideways glance at his OIC. “I’d say that events are far worse then what we’ve encountered,” Rogers stated. “We’ve seen some serious shit, no doubt. But, we don’t know all there is to know about this event. I don’t think anyone really knows much about it.” Willis nodded his agreement to his senior NCO’s statement.
“I agree.” Willis said, trying to understand the need for secrecy given the state of the world. “Odd timing all around.”
“That it is, sir. That it is,” Rogers said as he pulled his pack out and began inventorying the contents.
Willis looked out the window and thought about his mission orders.
Up From the Depths: Book 4 Movement to Contact Page 8
