Viral Resistance

by Robert Boren

  Gunter laughed. “No place for a secret base there.”

  The rest of the UN Peacekeepers were out of the first van. The vans behind were opening their side doors, men flooding out. Gunter motioned for them to meet him in front of the building, as other UN Peacekeepers set up barricades on both ends of the block.

  “The tip is that he’s got the top four floors of that building there,” Gunter said, pointing. “We’ve got a lot of associates in this area, so be careful. We don’t want to kill friendlies. Understand?”

  “We get it, sir,” one of the men said in a Spanish accent. “Let’s go get that bastard.”

  Gunter nodded, and they rushed across the street, going through the heavy glass doors into the lobby of the building. There was a guard behind a massive desk, eyeing them. He was a black man in his early 50s, built like a linebacker.

  “Can I help you?” he asked calmly.

  “We need access to the top four floors of this building,” Gunter said. “We have a tip that there’s a wanted fugitive up there.”

  “Oh, really,” the guard said. “Then send the real police over here.”

  “We are in control,” Gunter said, feeling a sweat breaking out on his forehead, the helmet heavy on his head.

  “I’ll take that under advisement,” the Guard said. “Go get the SFPD and we’ll talk. Oh, and you’ll need a warrant, of course.”

  “The fugitive will get away if we wait for that,” Gunter said.

  “Why are you messing with this guy?” Aku asked. He pointed his weapon at the guard. “Let us in now.”

  “No,” the guard said. “Go ahead and shoot me. I’ve got my job to do.”

  The sound of police sirens approached, just in earshot.

  “That’s going to warn him,” Aku said to Gunter.

  “Where’s he gonna go?” Gunter asked. “We have the street blocked off.”

  “Listen to your boss,” the guard said.

  “Shut up,” Aku said, pointing the rifle at him again.

  “That’s not nice,” the guard said, eyeing the angry Peacekeeper as a father would eye a misbehaving child.

  “The police are out front,” one of the other Peacekeepers said.

  “I’ll go talk to them,” Gunter said. He headed towards the door when the SFPD officers rushed in, wearing riot gear and holding assault weapons.

  “Who’s in charge here?” asked a Hispanic officer.

  “I am,” Gunter said.

  “Why have you started an operation of this size without notification? You are required to clear any such activities with the SFPD. I’m Captain Valencia.”

  “We don’t have to notify your department in cases like this,” Gunter said.

  “What?” Valencia asked. “Guess I didn’t get that memo.”

  “Your entire force received those instructions, so back off right now, Captain.”

  “I think I’ll ignore that request,” Valencia said. “Until you tell me exactly what you’re doing here. I’ll relay that to the Chief and we’ll see.”

  Gunter shook his head and motioned for him to move to the corner of the lobby. When they were away from the main group, he got close and whispered. “Ivan the Butcher is on one of the top four floors of this building. We got a tip from a reliable source.”

  Captain Valencia laughed. “So, the most wanted man in California has been holed up right in the middle of the San Francisco financial district?”

  “As improbable as that sounds, that’s what we’ve been told.”

  Valencia shook his head as he walked away, hitting the button on his lapel microphone. He had a quiet conversation, then walked back over. “Okay, the chief will approve you going in, but if there’s gunplay and somebody gets hurt, you’ll have to answer for that.”

  “I can’t shoot anybody during an assault on a known fugitive?”

  “Oh, if they start shooting at you, by all means defend yourself, but if you catch this person or any of his associates and can take them alive, you’d better do exactly that. Comprende? There will be no executions here, and we’re going up with you.”

  Gunter sighed. “All right, I understand. Will you get us access? The guard is asking for a warrant.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” Valencia said. He walked to the guard’s counter and had a hushed conversation with him. Gunter watched as the guard shook his head yes. Valencia came back over.

  “Well?” Gunter asked.

  “He’ll allow us to go up,” Valencia said, “but he’s going to notify his superiors, and we’d better not break things up there.”

  “We’ll try hard not to,” Gunter said.

  “I know, because my men are going with you,” Valencia said.

  “Is that really necessary?” Gunter asked.

  “Yep,” Valencia said. “I’ve gotten too many reports of you goofs hurting people and going beyond what’s allowed per our Constitution. That’s not going on in my district. Sorry.”

  Gunter stared at the man for a moment, trying to cow him, but seeing no breakdown at all. He nodded yes, and started for the elevators.

  “Wrong way,” Valencia said. “Stairs. Over to the right. I’ll show you.”

  Gunter shrugged, then followed him, motioning to the other Peacekeepers.

  They went past the guard’s desk and headed into the stairwell, climbing up twelve floors, all of them winded by the time they reached the bottom of the four floors Ivan was supposed to be on.

  Gunter called forward a couple of his men, and they came to the door, guns drawn, ready to enter. They burst through it, expecting to see a multitude of people. There was nobody there. The door opened onto a storage room holding a bunch of audio and visual equipment. The UN Peacekeepers fanned out, looking in all directions. Valencia’s men stayed by the stairwell and watched.

  “This is a trap, Captain,” one of the SFPD officers said.

  “Makes me wonder, O’Malley,” Valencia said. “I think we’ll just let them search.

  “What if it’s booby-trapped?”

  Valencia snickered. “What, do you think we should go down a few floors?”

  “Yeah,” O’Malley said. “I don’t want to get killed helping these bastards.”

  Valencia laughed. “Tell me what you really think.”

  “Nobody here,” Gunter said, getting back to the stairwell door. He opened it, going up the next flight and bursting through the door again. Valencia stayed behind with his men.

  “Listen,” Aku whispered as they walked into the hallway. “Hear it? Conversation coming out of that air vent up there.”

  “I hear it,” Gunter said. “Check this floor out quickly, but be quiet about it.”

  Aku nodded and led the men down the hall, opening each door slowly and looking inside. They were back in a few seconds.

  “Storage again,” Aku said. “Next floor?”

  “Yeah,” Gunter said, looking nervous.

  “What happened to the SFPD?”

  “Guess they don’t find this interesting,” Gunter said. “Good, that gives us a free hand. I thought I was going to have to kill all of them.”

  Aku snickered, and they went back into the stairwell, heading up the next flight. The sound of people was louder by the door. They burst through, all the men rushing into the hallway. There were double doors, which opened into a reception room with an empty desk. The conversation was coming through the single door to the back.

  “By the numbers,” Gunter whispered. “This is it.”

  They snuck towards the door, Aku by the handle, Gunter behind him with his assault rifle pointed at the door. Aku ripped open the door, and there was a huge explosion, filling the room with smoke and debris, the men closest to the door killed instantly. Two men closest to the stairwell door survived, crawling on the floor, going through the door. Valencia and his men rushed up the stairs, guns drawn.

  “Where’s the rest of them?” O’Malley asked one of the survivors.

  “All over the room,” he said, fainting, the
bloody gash on his abdomen showing.

  “Hans!” said the other man, bleeding heavily from his upper arm.

  Valencia got on his radio. “Booby trap. Most of the UN team bought it. I’ve got two survivors up here. Send the med unit.”

  “Knew it,” O’Malley said.

  Valencia shot him a glance, putting his finger to his lips.

  ***

  The last of the battle wagons pulled into the big auto dealership showroom, parking next to the window. The door opened, Ted climbing out, Haley, Brianna, and Bryan following.

  “Not exactly out of sight here,” Ted said.

  “Don’t worry, this isn’t visible from any part of the road,” Tex said, walking over to them.

  “And we control rest of the facilities, including the new UN base,” Jules said. “Just got a text from Ivan. He said to turn on the news.”

  “There’s a TV in the service waiting lounge, right back here,” Allison said. She led people back there. Bryan found the remote and switched it on.

  “Holy crap, what’s going on there?” Morgan asked. The screen showed a high-rise with the top floors billowing smoke through broken windows, the Transamerica building in the background.

  “Did our side do that?” Robbie asked.

  The newsreader came on.

  “This is the scene of an attempt to capture Ivan the Butcher in the San Francisco financial district tonight. Investigators are at the scene now, trying to piece together what happened as the fire department works the remaining flames.”

  “He’s not dead, is he?” Brianna asked.

  Jules chuckled. “No, I just get text from him. He on way here. Left boobytrap.”

  “We’ve just been told that the floor where the explosion happened was the scene of a large meeting. There were voices heard from the stairwell. Body parts litter the floor at this grisly scene. No word on the condition or whereabouts of Ivan the Butcher or his team. UN Peacekeepers ran this operation. All but two of them were killed by the explosion. SFPD was also on scene, but were on a lower floor at the time of the incident.”

  “This is a riot,” Justin said.

  “No it’s not,” Katie said. “People got killed.”

  “Bad guys got killed,” Justin said.

  “It’s just been reported that remnants of Ivan the Butcher’s signature fedora and pinstriped suit have been found at the scene, covered in blood and tissue. The coroner has rushed these items to the lab to test for Ivan the Butcher’s DNA. It is on file after an arrest in Brussels several years ago.”

  “Now it get funny,” Jules said.

  “Why?” Shelly asked.

  “Ivan had blood drawn, smear over clothes and hat,” Jules said.

  Tex laughed hard. “That son of a bitch.”

  “Wonder how long they’ll run the story that he’s dead?” Ted asked.

  “Not long, he do TV appearance from our target building tomorrow,” Jules said. “Ladies, if you still want to testify, that will be chance.”

  “I do,” Morgan said.

  “Me too,” Allison said.

  Several of the other women nodded in agreement.

  “Hope we can really pull off a rescue this time,” Ted said. “We need to be very careful tomorrow.”

  “Planned to T,” Jules said. “Mr. White and Mr. Black are already there, holding initial team hostage with families there. They make sure no escape, and do best to protect women.”

  “Look at the trained monkey,” Justin said, pointing to the screen.

  “That’s the Lieutenant Governor,” Ted said. “That’s not the State Capitol building, though. At least it’s not the usual place where they do press conferences.”

  “We bring you to Acting Governor Lance Kreski,” the announcer said.

  “Fellow citizens,” Kreski said. “We have all watched this horrible incident unfold tonight. I want to assure you that we will investigate this fully. The loss of life was horrendous. An unknown number of criminals working with Ivan the Butcher were killed, along with seventeen of our UN Peacekeepers, who have come here at great sacrifice to get us through this difficult time.”

  “Look at him,” Ted said. “His eyes are watering and darting around, and he’s as thin as a rail. He’s been under house arrest.”

  “He has,” Jules said. “All surviving California state elected officials held at Folsom Prison. Mr. White and Mr. Black will lead team to spring them after this job.”

  “We sure all of them are worth springing?” Ted asked. “This jackass played right into the hands of the martial law and UN occupation.”

  “Look at that guy,” Allison said. “He’s scared to death.”

  “Wish he’d shut his pie hole,” Cody said. “Not interested.”

  “He’s done,” Ted said. “Something’s happening. Look at the grin on that newsreader’s face.”

  “This just in,” the newsreader said. “The coroner has announced that we do have a match of blood type and DNA to Ivan the Butcher, found on the fedora and clothes. Ivan the Butcher’s reign of terror has ended.”

  Jules practically fell on the floor laughing, Tex and Ted joining in, then Robbie and others.

  “This rich,” Jules said. “Wait till tomorrow. We make monkey of press and officials, no?”

  “Hey, guys, social media is going nuts,” Robbie said, looking at his phone.

  “Really?” Tex asked. “What are you seeing, partner?”

  “Calls to riot in the streets,” Robbie said. “Ivan’s got a whole lot more fans up here than I thought.

  “Look, on the screen,” Shelly said, watching a flood of civilians rushing into the street by the smoking building, pushing the news people out of the way as the SFPD and UN Peacekeepers tried to hold them back.

  “It be long night for enemy,” Jules said. “Wait till we nail them tomorrow.”

  {4}

  Big Tent

  T yler snuck down Vista Sage Lane, staying in the bushes. Kenny and Will followed him.

  “Hope they don’t find the Jeep,” Kenny whispered.

  “Don’t worry,” Tyler said. “It’s well hidden. Stay sharp. They’ve probably got sentries all over the place.”

  “We should’ve brought our bows,” Will said.

  “We don’t want to start anything,” Tyler said. “They’ll take off if we do. These are leadership folks. Not fighters.”

  “They’ve got protection, though, right?” Will said. “We’ll run into fighters. Probably some of their best.”

  “You can bet on that,” Kenny said.

  “Quiet,” Tyler said. “There’s Colina Verde.”

  “Dammit, there’s no cover,” Will said. “They’ve got the brush cleared by the road.”

  “Geez, there’s a house on either side,” Kenny whispered.

  “Stop,” Tyler said, eyeing both, wishing it was Ryan and Zac. “Look to the right. See that dirt road? We’re going that way, along these bushes. We’ll head in from the back of the Winery. Keep your wits about you.”

  The warriors took the dirt road, staying in the brush on the right side. They could hear music playing, and muffled voices.

  “Sounds like a party,” Kenny whispered.

  “Perfect,” Tyler said as they snuck along. “That house probably belongs to the owner of the winery.” They passed it. There were lights in two of the upstairs windows, but the rest of the house was dark.

  “Look, there are bushes between the house and the winery,” Will said. “We just have to make it past about thirty yards of open ground. We can probably do that.”

  “Now you’re thinking,” Tyler said, shooting him a glance. “I think nobody’s hanging out in the back end of that house. Let’s go.”

  They sprinted across the dirt road and through the back part of the house’s yard. A dog barked. The hackles on Tyler’s back rose, near panic hitting him. Keep it together. They made it to the thick bushes and stopped, checking both directions.

  “Where’s that dog?” Kenny whispered.
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  “In the house, I think,” Will replied. “Quiet. There’s somebody pushing a cart from the main winery building.”

  They crept forward. “Circus tent,” Kenny whispered.

  Tyler nodded as he looked at it. The waiter pushed the cart through an opening on the north side of it. “That’s a big shindig. You see all the wine on that cart?”

  “Looked like desserts, too,” Kenny whispered. “Makes me hungry.”

  Tyler shot him a glance and shook his head. They crept further, to the end of the cover. “Well, we either try to rush across that open ground to the next clump of cover, or we go back right now.”

  “Stop,” Will nodded. A UN Peacekeeper walked by the outside of the tent on their side, cigarette hanging from his mouth, his assault weapon slung over his shoulder.

  “We’ve seen enough,” Tyler said. “If they’re having dessert, the party might not go on much longer.”

  “That was a lot of wine,” Kenny said. “They’ll hang for a while.”

  “Still,” Tyler said. “Let’s go now. We need to start the attack in an hour or less.”

  They snuck back to where they came from, sprinting across the open ground next to the house, the dog barking again.

  “Shut up, Fritz,” said a German-accented man from inside the house.

  “Crap,” Will said under his breath as they made it to cover beside the dirt road.

  “The battle wagons will have a hard time turning around once they’re in there,” Kenny said. “If we take them in, we’d better win.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Tyler said. “C’mon, let’s haul ass.”

  They rushed back to their Jeep and took off for the Williams place.

  ***

  Tex and Karen sat outside their rig, watching through the windows of the Jeep show room.

  “This really makes you nervous, doesn’t it?” Karen asked.

  “I’m okay, little lady,” he said, shooting her a grin, taking in the vivid red hair lying around her shoulders. “You’re a vision.”

  “Stop,” she said. “Well, maybe don’t stop completely.”

  He chuckled. “You don’t have to worry about that.”