“What’s it like out there?” came a voice from behind him.
Duncan answered without looking back. “It’s bad out there. From a few hundred feet in the air, not so much, but on the ground--near the cities--better watch your six. I have seen a lot of good folks die this last week.” He walked a few steps in silence and then continued, “Make that a six pack and a stump... I’ve got a little forgettin’ to do.”
Seth stopped abruptly in front of a thick patch of undergrowth and saplings and said, “Here we are.”
The wall in front of them swung inward, foliage and all.
“Impressive,” Duncan said under his breath.
Chapter 27
Outbreak - Day 8
Ten miles east of Schriever Air Force Base
Colorado Springs, Colorado
Five minutes had passed since the Ghost Hawk descended to just above the treetops and the flight got bouncy. Badass had been giving Cade the stink eye ever since.
“Ari... how close are we to Schriever?” Cade asked.
“Ten mikes out Wyatt... why, you got a date?” Ari pulled the stick back and violently popped the chopper over a taller pine tree and then just as sharply dove back to the treetops. The maneuver sent every testicle onboard into hiding. “Because if you do... I can push it a bit. Might have to leave the 47s behind to fend for themselves though...”
Cade held his SCAR carbine barrel down between his knees. He tightened his right hand around the fore grip and lashed out at Badass. The synthetic butt stock was a black blur as it struck the small man on the chin. Like he had just been on the receiving end of a Taser gun, Badass slumped in his seat unconscious and badly in need of some new dental work. “No need Ari... problem solved. But I do have one question for you, sir.”
Ari jinked the helo around another stand of trees and said, “Shoot... I’m all ears.”
“Why are we flying NOE (nap of the earth)?” Cade asked holding down the rising bile.
“Just for the practice, gotta stay sharp... just in case the dead evolve and figure out how to arm themselves,” Ari joked.
Bad fucking joke, Cade thought.
Tice looked on, wondering what the prisoner did to deserve the sleeping pill, then mentally shrugged, owing it to general principles.
The helicopter abruptly slowed and gained some altitude. The boxy silhouettes of the buildings and hangars spread out across the AFB stood out in sharp contrast against the serrated Rockies in the background. Desantos and the other operators stiffened up, preparing for the imminent landing.
“We’re going in quiet and low just in case,” Ari said, his voice suddenly taking on a serious tone. “Durant, stay frosty on the countermeasures... we are at war.”
“Repeat what you just said, Night Stalker,” Desantos demanded.
“We’re at war, sir. I was scanning frequencies and listening in on a side channel and caught some chatter over the net. Apparently a 4th ID patrol out of Carson was attacked with antitank munitions and decimated... happened somewhere in Wyoming,” Ari said.
The General had suddenly developed a tic in one eyelid. “I want to know who in the hell was talking about matters of national security on an open freq!” he yelled.
Ari struggled mightily with the other piece of information he was sitting on. Ten minutes ago he started hearing snippets of a conversation that was improbable at best and quickly wrote it off as someone’s fucking dismal idea of a practical joke, but he continued hearing the same mind-blowing words from the mouths of dozens of other excited soldiers and airmen on multiple frequencies. Even if it meant he became the laughing stock of Colorado Springs he felt compelled to repeat them to his good friend and superior General Desantos. “Looks like our jaunt to the CDC was worthwhile. Apparently the good doctor really is good. He either kept a man from turning... or he brought an infected man back from the dead. I’ve heard people talking about both of those scenarios.” Ari shrugged. He wasn’t getting his hopes up, and until he heard it from Shrill or Nash it was not a fact. “General, nothing that I overheard came from a need to know so I have a good reason to believe that they probably don’t have their facts straight.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” Lopez said, his face beaming. “I guess humpin’ all those stairs at the CDC with Satan over my shoulder paid off.” He looked up, closed his eyes, and made the sign of the cross.
“Change of plans, Ari. Drop us off first and then take the spook to Carson. Get me as close to the doctor’s tent as you can,” Desantos ordered.
“Copy that sir.”
Desantos put his gloved hand on the CIA man’s shoulder and peered into his eyes. “How long is it going to take to assemble and arm the devices?”
Tice briefly closed his eyes and performed a mental calculation. “Sir, two hours apiece to assemble them. That is assuming all of the parts I need are available. How many devices do you want operable?”
“Three.”
“That is a lot of destructive power,” Tice said wide eyed.
“The threat warrants it. Two of the devices are for the op and one is a backup... just in case plan A and B fail.”
The spook’s eyebrows scrunched together. “What is plan B?”
Every soul on the chopper was hanging on a thread, waiting for Desantos’ answer.
Desantos watched the shadowy outlines of the other three black helicopters peel away and vector towards Fort Carson and then cleared his throat. Except for Badass, everyone in the cabin leaned towards him. “Plan B is pray that plan A works... because if it doesn’t... the measures we will be forced to take pale in comparison to plan A.”
Classic Desantos, Cade thought. He always played his cards close to his vest. If you need to know... then you will. Apparently the rest of the passengers didn’t need to know.
By the time Jedi One-One crossed over the eastern wire, both Chinooks and the other Ghost Hawk were well on their way to Fort Kit Carson with the load of nuclear warheads and the accompanying equipment.
Chapter 28
Outbreak - Day 8
Eden Compound
Logan worried his handlebar mustache, twisting the ends into sharp points while he rode in silence. It could have been Duncan buzzing the treetops, he thought, but then again it could just as easily have been the black clad storm troopers we saw from a distance on our last outing.
Confident that there wouldn’t be oncoming traffic, Lev drove the new 4Runner hard, drifting it on corners, kicking up rocks and an epic swirl of dust that coated the trailing Land Cruiser.
The DHS Black Hawk was already sitting on the edge of the grass and the rotor blades were tied down when the dusty SUVs rocketed from the tree line and sped across the clearing.
Logan hailed Lev on the two-way radio. “Do you see any personnel?”
After a few seconds Lev responded. “Negative, but be ready for anything when you get out.”
Logan hated being told what to do but humility quickly kicked him in the ass. He was fully aware that real combat experience trumped his book knowledge and Lev was almost always correct when it came to anything security related. “Copy that,” he said.
As soon as both SUVs skidded to a stop everyone piled out, charged their weapons, and trained them on the forest trail that led to the compound.
With a flick of his wrist Lev silently ordered the others to follow him. They drilled on silently movement with emphasis on proper spacing on a daily basis. Keeping separation between each person was important as it ensured that the group couldn’t be taken out all at once if they were attacked.
Logan found it strange that there wasn’t anyone posted in the clearing when they arrived.
As if he were a mind reader Lev whispered. “Where’s the sentry?”
Before anyone could answer, the man responsible for watching the perimeter walked out of the shadows, gun held at a low ready position.
“Seth... why did you leave your watch?” Logan demanded.
“Sorry... I won’t let it happen again. I wa
s only escorting your brother to the entrance... he is one funny guy.”
“Be alert. There are walkers on the road... so I think it wouldn’t hurt us to double up the guard. I’ll send another body out, but in the meantime use the radio... call if you see anything, and remember to keep quiet... the helicopter got them interested... the dead will start gathering if they find out we are here,” Logan said.
“Will do,” Seth acknowledged.
“I’ll stay out here with him,” Lev offered. “Maybe I can bag a couple more rotters.”
Logan shook his head. “Let’s hope not Lev. You and I both know what a couple of those things can lead to...”
“A very bad day,” Lev concluded, “a very fucking bad day indeed.”
***
After a short hike through the trees they stood in front of the camouflaged steel entry to the compound. Even though the door was half-inch-thick plate Logan could hear Duncan holding court on the other side.
All conversation ceased and the cavernous room suddenly got quiet when Logan, Lev and the rest of the patrol filed through the door. Jamie peeled away from the group in order to escort Jordan to get some medical attention. Although the Flex Cuffs the kidnappers had used to restrain the young woman’s hands had cut off the circulation for hours, she was going to keep her fingers but without a proper cleaning Jamie feared that the vicious red abrasions encircling her wrists would become infected. Logan made a bee line for Duncan and wrapped him in a bear hug. Then they held each other while exchanging back slaps and private conversation.
Duncan finally managed to free himself from Logan’s python-like grip and put his hands on his shoulders, then looked the younger man in the eyes and said softly, “Baby bro... I thought I was never going to see you again.”
Logan smeared a stream of hot tears with his forearm and said, “Welcome home old man.”
Chapter 29
Outbreak - Day 8
Schriever AFB, Research Tent
Desantos didn’t know which he should do first: cover his nose to fight off the stench of the Alpha or beg one of the doctors to loan him a pair of sunglasses to counter the miniature sun illuminating the creature. Furthermore, the steady hissing noise inside the windowless pressurized tent made him feel like Jonah in the belly of the whale.
Desantos quickly came to the realization that he was in dire need of sleep and food. Back-to-back-to-back ops with a newborn thrown into the mix was kicking his ass. His body was trying to tell him he was at the end of his rope and if he didn’t acknowledge that fact soon someone was going to get hurt. He held one hand up to shield his eyes and thrust the other toward the much smaller scientist. “Doctor...” he said curtly, pumping his latex gloved hand.
Fuentes snapped off the glove and said, “Better wash that hand.”
Ignoring the doctor’s advice Desantos moved closer to the Alpha carrier. “Based on what I heard through the grapevine... I came in here expecting to see this one walking and talking,” he said, poking the zombie in the chest. The dead Chinese national didn’t feel the small brush of warm flesh, but the proximity of fresh meat sent tremors through the Alpha’s body. Teeth grated as it bucked and strained, futilely rubbing ulna and tendon against the leather bonds.
The doctor fingered the Oreos in his pocket, longing to pop one in his mouth. “I’m sorry you had to hear about Archie from anyone but me.”
Desantos exploded. “Archie!” He said the name as if it belonged to his mortal enemy. “You named this thing... like a fucking pet. I don’t know whether to puke or put a bullet in you!”
Fuentes recoiled and said, “No. No... This isn’t Archie.” The scientist filled Desantos in on the DHS agent. He went over how he became infected and the events leading up to the awakening and finished with, “Archie is recovering in the other part of the tent.”
“I owe you an apology for the outburst, Doctor... I’m still pissed off about the leak. How did the news get out?” Desantos asked, resisting the urge to rub his face with his unwashed hand.
Fuentes looked away. He didn’t want to admit that it wasn’t the first time Hanson had let information get away from her. “Doctor Hanson couldn’t keep it to herself. She’s full of hope... so much so that she let it slip to one of the soldiers in the dining hall a few hours ago. How much harm could it have caused?”
“Good grief... the chow hall is the one place on a military installation... any branch for that matter... where innuendo, rumor and plain ol’ bullshit gets passed along as fact. Hell... word of this probably spread faster than a Bangkok whore’s legs and probably more efficiently than Omega itself,” Desantos railed.
“I’m sorry. It was never our intention to leak this because there is no way of knowing if the antiserum is going to be effective long term. I fully intended on waiting until we observed him for at least twelve more hours before bringing it to your attention. In a perfect world we would study Mister Luckiest Man on the Planet for weeks or months before getting our hopes up. For all I know Mister Stockton could still be carrying the virus... he may even succumb later and die... again.”
Desantos finally relented and rubbed his rheumy eyes. “My hopes were riding high, Doctor. I was looking forward to interrogating this Alpha fucker. Pardon the language unbecoming of a General... but I’m damn tired.”
Suddenly the air pressure changed inside the room and Doctor Hanson backed her way through the hanging slats of the inner air seal, a cup of steaming coffee in each small fist. Upon seeing the General chatting with her mentor, the usual demure civilian scientist suffered a sudden bout of Tourettes. “Oh fuck me... shit. Forgive me for the potty mouth General... curse words usually are not in my vernacular. Take this Doctor... but be very careful it’s hot. I just got some on my hand,” she lied.
Five-foot-two-inch Jessica Hanson squirmed as the intimidating soldier glared in her direction.
“Ms. Hanson,” Desantos growled.
“Yes sir?” She stood rooted and wrung her hands, waiting for the boom to drop.
Desantos bowed his head, letting his chin rest on his sternum, and began to work the back of his neck. “Every person on this base... all the way down to the door kickers and the sharpshooters culling the dead downtown… are abuzz about your cure, Ms. Hanson. Will you kindly bring me up to speed about your cure, Ms. Hanson?”
“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I was so tired... the highs and the lows. I just blurted it out.” She shook her head slowly side to side. “Believe me, I tried to reel the words back in but I couldn’t spin it any other way.”
Fuentes sipped his coffee and watched the woman wilt under the General’s line of questioning. Maybe she’s finally going to learn from this, he thought.
Desantos raised his head and looked the lady in the eye. “The genie’s out of the bottle now... so we’re going to have to keep up this charade no matter what happens to Mr. Stockton. The morale of the soldiers, marines, airmen and even the civilians in Springs depends on it.”
Thinking the civilian scientist had learned her lesson, Fuentes intervened. “Doctor Hanson, go and check Stockton’s vitals and let me know immediately if there are any changes... for the better or the worse.”
Hanson, feeling like she was being sent on a time out, cast her eyes down and said, “Right away sir.” Then she addressed the General directly. “Once again... I am embarrassed and very sorry for my actions... if I could turn back time I certainly would.”
“You and me both, now carry on ma’am,” Desantos said dismissively.
Once Hanson was out of ear shot Fuentes continued. “Are you saying we are to lie to them? Because this charade will require quite a bit of lying... and not just the little white lie type either,” he said, clearly taken aback.
“You used that man like a lab animal and you already lied by omission... in a roundabout way, and for both of your sakes you better pray the agent pulls through,” Desantos warned.
“Doctor... General...” Hanson blurted as she frantically burst through the
inner air seal. “Mr. Stockton’s condition has changed.”
Fuentes sensed the first ice pick stab of the migraine probing his brain. Maybe it’s payback for putting six inches of hypodermic in Stockton’s brain and prolonging his agony, he thought as he dug his thumbs into his temples. The doctor flattened his lab coat with both palms and composed himself, fully ready to perform last rites and fire up the cranial bone saw and see what went wrong under Agent Stockton’s dome. Fuentes, not awed by rank, went through the air seal ahead of the General.
Hanson leaned over the gurney, eclipsing the patient’s upper body and head. After Fuentes angled around Hanson he noticed that the man was still tethered to the bed, but oddly he wasn’t fighting his restraints. That is odd, he thought, maybe he is finally dead and didn’t really turn after all. Stranger shit had happened in the world of science. At any rate, Fuentes was going to pick the man’s brain, literally, and see how Omega had reacted to the antiserum.
“Hanson, check his liver temperature so we’ll have a better idea of time of death.”
“No need Doctor,” Hanson said without looking up from whatever she was doing.
Desantos, clearly agitated, said, “Now is not the time to start doing things your way, Doctor Hanson... you are already skating on thin ice.”
Hanson backed away from the bed, a wan smile crossing her face. “He’s pulled through. I was leaning in so I could hear what he had to say. He wants to know if Gill or Jessie made it out of the airport alive... it seems they were onboard another helicopter. I told him I didn’t know.” She looked at the General and continued. “And that’s the truth... I’m not in the business of lying.”
Desantos shot her a chilly look and took Fuentes by the elbow to confer in private. “What’s the best prognosis?” he inquired.
“If he’s asking questions... with specificity... pretty damn good I think. He was gone. Dead. No pulse or respiration for six minutes with no oxygen getting to his brain. I am amazed he’s even able to talk, let alone hold a conversation or ask questions. It’s either a miracle from on high or Omega can be beaten. You can go ahead and speak with him General. It’s not going to kill him...” Fuentes offered.
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