by Dirk Patton
“Stay tight,” Sam said to her, turning and meeting her eyes.
She nodded and followed the two SEALs through the double doors into the night.
37
“Gotta go outside the fence,” I said into the radio. “Dog four and five, maintain cover fire. Edwards, move the fuel line ten feet east of the fenced area. Keep it high until I’m at the fill port.”
Everyone acknowledged my order, the rate of fire from the roof picking up. Females were dropping, but they were barely being held back. I didn’t see any way I was going to do this unless I was fighting with one hand and refueling the tank with the other. Shit. I’m good, but I’m not that good.
“Dog one, two. Fence is down and we’ve got a whole gaggle flooding in,” Dutch called on the radio.
“Gaggle?” I heard Drago’s voice in my ear.
“Knock the shit off!” I barked. “Break… Sam one-niner, Dog one. Copy?”
“Go ahead, Dog,” the pilot of the Black Hawk answered almost immediately.
“Need you on station with the minigun. I’ve got to take a walk with the natives,” I said.
“That’s a big ten-four, good buddy. Can you mark your location?”
If I survived this, I had to have a beer with this guy.
“Affirmative. Break… Edwards, toss me a strobe.”
I moved to the base of the wall, looking up. A few moments later, Edwards stuck his head over the parapet and looked down. Spotting me, he held the strobe straight out, paused a beat to let me lock in with my eyes, then dropped it. I caught it cleanly, almost dropping it from the sharp pain when it impacted my broken fingers. Cursing and shaking my hand, I activated it and snapped the hard plastic base off to expose a nylon belt with Velcro at each end.
Nearly dropping the damn thing again, I got the strap wrapped around my upper arm and secured tightly. I performed a quick check of my weapons, made sure the safety on my rifle and pistol were set to fire, and stepped to a wide gate. There was time to shoot four females and a male before the Black Hawk roared into a hover a couple of hundred feet above the parking lot.
“Dog one, ID one strobe at ground level. Confirm.”
“Confirmed,” I said. “That’s me. I’m going to exit a gate and move ten feet east along the wall. I’ll be static and need you to keep the infected off my ass.”
“Copy. Watch your ass out there. Can’t swing the death dealer too close to your position.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I mumbled to myself.
Shooting three more females, I called on the radio that I was moving and opened the gate as the minigun cut loose. Two females were between me and the tank. I shot them and moved five feet, pausing when another screamed and charged from my left. Turning to engage, I was happy to see her head snap back an instant before she tumbled lifelessly to the pavement. Two more that were running in fell dead a moment later.
The Rangers on the roof were keeping the immediate area around me safe. The minigun was keeping the larger mass of infected farther out in the parking lot beaten back. Trusting that everyone would keep doing their job, I dashed to the pipe and grasped the greasy cap that covered the opening.
Unable to turn it with my damaged hand, I had to waste valuable time pulling a pair of channel lock pliers out of my pack. Focusing on the task while infected were charging my position was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. If Chico or Drago missed a shot on a female, the bitch would slam into me when I was completely vulnerable. All I could do was trust the two men I didn’t know to protect me.
The big pliers did the trick, loosening the cap enough for me to spin it off and let it fall to dangle from the end of a short chain. Edwards was on the ball and when I looked up the fuel line was hanging right in front of my face. I was reaching for it when a body struck my back.
The bitch hit me with a flying body tackle and I was slammed against the exterior wall of the building. Fuck, that hurt! And even worse, I was a little stunned as my forehead had bounced off the stone façade. I was pulled to the ground and I could smell the fetid breath of my attacker.
Punching with my right, I tried to get a grip with my left but couldn’t hold on with two of the fingers out of commission. She batted my arm aside and grabbed my hand, twisting. I roared with pain, lightning bolts shooting up my arm and into the base of my skull. Rolling with her, I made room to really get my right arm wound up and hit her hard in the side of the head.
The infected went limp, knocked out by the blow, and I shoved her off of me and scrambled to my feet. Whipping my pistol out, I aimed at her head, pausing when I saw the damage my punch had done. I hadn’t just knocked her out, I’d broken her neck. I’d like to take credit for being a brutishly strong fighter, but the truth of the matter is she wasn’t very big. Probably no more than thirteen or fourteen years old.
Taking a quick glance around I saw a lot of females charging in, a few males mixed in. But they were falling dead to the asphalt at a steady pace. Drago and Chico were keeping them knocked down, but the ring that had formed around me was steadily compressing.
Forcing my attention away from the danger, I grabbed the line and pulled it down to reach the filler pipe. Opening the valve on the end, diesel gushed out on my pants and boots before I could shove the hose into the opening. Fuel flowing, I turned to head for the gate and safety behind the fence, but the closest ranks of infected had cut off my retreat.
“Moving to the gate,” I called over the radio.
Leaving my rifle slung, I pulled the Kukri and Ka-Bar and moved to engage the closest infected. The Rangers did exactly what I had hoped they would as I began slashing and stabbing. Instead of trying to pick off targets that were directly in front of me, they concentrated on protecting my flanks.
That left it up to me to battle my way to the gate. And battle I did. All of the pain, anger and frustration lent fury to my attack and before I realized it the gate was in front of me. A male was bumping against it, a female leaping for me with a bone-chilling scream.
The Kukri made quick work of her and a fast stab to the head with the knife dropped the male in his tracks. Stepping over him, I released the catch on the gate and pushed it open. As I moved to safety, a female lunged and grasped my left arm. Pulling her through with me, I kicked the gate shut, the latch automatically catching and securing the opening.
The female screamed as she spun, still holding on to my arm and trying to slash my eyes with her free hand. Leaning away from the strike, I brought the Kukri around and buried most of the blade in her skull. It stuck, pulling free from my hand as she collapsed to the ground, dead. Stepping on her face, I wrenched it free and turned to make sure the gate was solidly closed.
It was and I wiped my blades clean on the dead female before sheathing them and dashing to the closest generator. As I worked to open the housing that protected the battery, Chico and Drago kept up their rate of fire, shooting females that were banging on the chain link as they tried to scale the fence.
“Dog one, Sam one-niner. There’s too many coming through the breach to hold back. You’d better get your ass back on the roof.”
“Save your ammo,” I responded. “Almost done.”
As I said the last word, the final screw came free and I ripped the housing out of the way and tossed it to the side. Flashlight on, I peered inside and let loose with another string of curses. The goddamn generator had a 24-volt battery. Not the 12-volt vehicle battery I’d brought along. There was no way to jump start the engine.
38
Lucas Martin stood in the shade of the weathered structure that disguised the entrance to the prison. He was waiting for the guards to finish processing Steve, get the man dressed in something other than an orange jumpsuit and bring him to the surface. Their transportation, the same helicopter that had delivered him, was ten minutes away.
Once they boarded, it would fly them about a hundred kilometers to a small air strip where they would transfer to a plane that would deliver them to Geraldton. F
rom there it was a short drive to the CIA station in Moonyoonka. Lucas had confirmed there would be a vehicle waiting for him at the Geraldton airport.
“When do you think you can come home?”
Lucas was speaking to his wife on a satellite phone. For the first time since she’d found out he was back in the service, he thought he could detect a note of warmth in her voice. He knew her anger was really fear for his safety, and had been careful to not respond harshly to many of the vindictive things she’d said.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Maybe in a day or two I can come see you. And the kids. How are the little buggers?”
“They’re fine,” she said. “They miss you.”
“What about you?” Lucas couldn’t help himself.
“You’re a big, stupid arse. You know that? Of course I miss you. I want you home, not off playing soldier.”
Behind him, Lucas heard the whine of hydraulics as the lift that transported people to and from the surface went into motion.
“I have to go,” he said. “I love you, and I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
He paused for a beat, hoping to hear that she loved him too. After a moment of silence, she told him to be safe and that she loved him. Smiling, he broke the connection and slipped the phone into his pocket. As he turned, a pair of doors slid open revealing Steve flanked by two guards.
They saw Lucas, nodded, and one of them placed his hand flat on Steve’s back and pushed him forward. As soon as Steve was clear, the other one reached out and pressed a button. The doors slid shut and there was another whine as the car descended beneath the Australian desert.
“Where are we?” Steve asked, blinking in the harsh light as he looked around at the desolate landscape.
After being captured, he had been drugged and a blackout sack pulled over his head. He had snatches of memory of being transported in an aircraft, but only knew that by the sounds and motion. He hadn’t been able to see anything as he’d been brought to the prison.
“Middle of bloody nowhere,” Lucas said.
“Are we supposed to walk?” Steve asked petulantly.
“Helicopter coming,” Lucas grunted. “So keep your mouth shut and behave and it will all be over soon.”
“You’re letting me go. Right?” Steve edged away from the much larger man.
“I already told you. You do what we discussed and as far as Australia is concerned you don’t exist. We never heard of you and never want to hear of you.”
Steve peered closely at Lucas before nodding and moving a little farther away to lean against a rough wall. Lucas turned and looked to the west when he faintly heard the sound of the approaching aircraft. It was early. Good.
The sooner they were in the air, the sooner this whole thing would be over and he could make a quick trip home to see his family. And if he was really lucky, maybe get some time alone with his wife to see if they could add another kid to the mix.
The helicopter came into view, the bright red paint serving to make it blend in with one of the more popular tour companies that operated out of Perth. It even flew out of the same airport on occasion. Only the employees of that company would recognize it as a fake. Each of them was retired from the RAAF and knew to look the other way and keep their mouths shut. They boarded and before Lucas fastened his seatbelt he handed a black, fabric bag to Steve.
“Put it on,” he said.
“What? Why?”
“Secret prisons don’t stay secret if every bloody wanker that comes in or out can see where they are,” Lucas said, giving him a hard glare.
Steve nodded, understanding the reasoning, and pulled the bag over his head. He felt Lucas check his harness, then heard the click as he secured his own. A moment later the seat under him shifted as the pilot lifted off.
The flight to the airstrip was quick, Lucas enjoying the scenery and chatting with the pilot to pass the time. Steve sat hunched in his seat, ignoring the two men and staring at the inside of the bag. It was hot and slightly claustrophobic, but he didn’t complain. It beat the hell out of a prison cell.
The plane was ready to go and less than two minutes after being dropped by the helo, they were on board and it was turning into the wind for takeoff. It was a much longer flight to Geraldton and Lucas took advantage of the opportunity to get some sleep. Steve sat there, listening to the buzz saw snores emanating from his traveling companion.
He was frightened and excited. Fearful that something would happen at the last moment and cuffs would be slapped back on and he would be returned to his small cell. Excited at his impending freedom.
They were half an hour away from Geraldton when Lucas stretched and sat up. He looked over at Steve, nodded and asked the pilot where they were. The man answered with a location that Steve didn’t understand, but by the way he grunted it seemed to make sense to Lucas.
Several minutes later the bag was pulled off of Steve’s head. He squinted in the sudden light and tried to look outside the aircraft. It was nearly a minute before his eyes adjusted, just in time for him to see rolling green hills fading away to suburban sprawl. The landing gear thumped onto the runway and he was pressed forward against the belt as the pilot braked hard and turned onto a taxiway.
They passed several hangars before turning into one that was vacant except for a shiny black Chevrolet Suburban. An older man with brush cut hair, wearing a black suit, leaned on the front fender. A cigarette dangled from his lips.
“Who’s that?” Steve asked nervously.
“Our ride,” Lucas said dismissively.
The pilot shut the engine down, the propeller quickly coming to a stop. Releasing his belt, Lucas popped the door and climbed out. He waited for Steve to exit the aircraft, escorting him to the waiting vehicle and getting in the back seat without speaking to the driver.
No one spoke as they drove out of the airport and onto the 123 highway. The drive to Moonyoonka was short, even more so as the driver pushed their speed well above the posted limit. Traffic was light, the big American vehicle blasting past the locals like they were standing still.
When they turned onto the access road for the listening post, he slowed until they were moving barely above an idle. Red dust boiled up from the unpaved road. Ahead, a Toyota SUV blocked the entrance, two men armed with automatic weapons standing at either end of the vehicle. The driver flashed his lights and one of them jumped behind the wheel and pulled it to the side to allow them to pass.
Steve turned and watched out the rear window as the entrance was once again blocked after they drove through the gate onto the paved lot. All of the stations defenses had been disabled or destroyed by the SAS raid that had captured Steve, so getting in was as simple as walking through the front door. The power was on, the air conditioned interior cool and comfortable after the furnace-like heat radiating from the black asphalt.
The driver remained with the Suburban, Lucas following Steve through the doors and down a hall to a large room full of servers and communications equipment. A young man with an obvious military haircut waited for them at the closest workstation.
“Who’s this?” Steve asked, pausing in surprise.
“This is my technician,” Lucas said, pushing Steve forward. “He’ll tell me if you’re trying to pull anything, or not doing what you agreed to do. And once you get access, he’ll take over and retrieve the records we need.”
Steve swallowed audibly, took a breath and moved forward. The technician had already powered up the station and loaded the first log in screen for the database. Glancing at the two men, Steve sat down in front of the terminal and reached for the keyboard. Lucas stopped him with a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Let me just be clear,” he said. “You do anything to erase or corrupt the data, you’re not going back to prison. There’s lots of dingos in the area, and the sun will be setting soon. That’s when they like to hunt and feed. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I understand,” Steve said, sweat beading his brow and u
pper lip. “No tricks. I’ll get you in then you do whatever you want to do. I don’t even want to know who you’re looking for.”
He had met Lucas’ steely gaze, finally turning back to the workstation and typing when Lucas nodded and removed his hand. Steve got past the first screen quickly, pausing when a new window popped open and asked for a supervisory password. He thought for a moment, then carefully typed in a long string of letters mixed with characters and numbers.
Hitting enter, the window vanished and the screen remained blank. Lucas was reaching out to grab his shoulder when a new window appeared. In large, red letters it said “Biometric scan required for access”.
Steve reached out and pulled a small device towards him that looked like a web camera. It was connected to the work station by a long cable. He raised the device to a point nearly touching his right eye and stared directly into the lens, pressing a button on the side of the retina scanner. It briefly glowed green before beeping twice. The word “confirmed” flashed in the window, then disappeared as the screen refreshed to display a directory of data tables.
The younger man touched Lucas’ arm and nodded. Steve returned the scanner to its place and pushed away from the keyboard. He stood and faced Lucas as the other man slipped into the seat and began working.
“I’ve done what you asked,” Steve said. “I’m free now. Right?”
Lucas held up a finger, telling Steve to wait. He watched as the man quickly found the record he was looking for. Picking up a pen, he wrote the information down on a piece of paper and double checked it against the screen before standing and handing it to Lucas.
“Yes. As agreed. As an official representative of the Australian government, you are no longer wanted for any crimes. Australia officially disavows any knowledge of you or your whereabouts.”
Lucas had folded the paper neatly in half and placed it in his wallet as he spoke. The younger man had already left the room, and Lucas stepped aside to let Steve pass.
