HAYWIRE: A Pandemic Thriller (The F.A.S.T. Series Book 2)

by Shane M Brown

  It was burned hair.

  Neither King nor Forest had escaped the flames. Forest had burns on his neck and ears. King’s arms were burned where he’d rolled up his sleeves.

  Erin had been just within range of the flames. Close enough to be burned, but not engulfed.

  ‘Faces down!’ yelled King.

  Erin shielded her face.

  Fire blasted into the deli.

  Flames slid around the walls and ceiling.

  Intense heat rolled over the deli’s transparent display counter. Unforgiving heat beat down on Erin’s head and back.

  Oh, my God. We’ll cook to death if we stay here!

  Erin looked for the deli’s service door. The air around her shimmered with heat haze. Her nostrils burned with every breath. She spotted a door, but they’d never reach it.

  Her head began spinning.

  She heard the flames recede and realized their attacker was closing in for the kill.

  She was right.

  This time the flames struck the counter directly, rolling up the glass and smashing into the ceiling and wall right above her.

  Erin put her face to the floor, bracing herself for the unbearable pain.

  Wump!

  Something fell on her a split second before the heat did.

  It was Forest.

  Forest shielded her with his body. Heat poured over them. Erin felt it curling around Forest and searching for her skin.

  ‘Shoot him!’ she yelled, terrified as the entire deli seemed to fill with fire.

  Why aren’t they shooting?

  Then Erin realized.

  The gunmen didn’t know the Marines had real firearms. For all they knew, the Marines still carried non-lethal weapons. Forest and King were luring them closer, forcing them to expose themselves.

  The fire receded again.

  Erin heard boots running into the deli. More gunmen. At least three more.

  ‘Now,’ hissed King.

  Forest and King sprang up and fired.

  Both men fired until they ran out of bullets, taking full advantage of their one and only surprise.

  Erin covered her ears. In the confined space, the deafening gunfire stabbed into her eardrums.

  The Marines ducked down again.

  ‘I’m all out,’ said Forest. ‘Did you get him?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied King. ‘I saw three go down.’

  As King spoke, Erin heard a single set of boots charging toward the counter. She knew in her heart it was the cunning man with the flamethrower.

  The man who’d set the trap.

  He’d avoided King and Forest’s surprise attack.

  Now he came rushing forward to spray the flamethrower right over the counter.

  King reacted instantly.

  He dropped his rifle and leaped onto the marble service counter in a single bound. His next step sent him sailing clean over the counter. While King flew through the air, Erin heard the flamethrower ignite.

  King leaped straight over the flames.

  The man tilted up the flamethrower, trying to burn King midair.

  The flames barely singed King’s boots. King landed on the man, smashing him to the deck. The flamethrower bounced away.

  Erin looked over the counter to see King’s giant hands encircle the man’s throat. King’s hugely-muscled arms tensed. He began squeezing.

  ‘Do you like burning people?’ King bellowed in the man’s face.

  ‘Do you think burning people to death is fun?’

  Forest watched silently.

  ‘Do you want to burn me?’ King yelled in the man’s face. ‘Do you want to burn my friends?’

  Crack.

  Erin heard a horrible sound. The sound of bones being twisted beyond their tolerance.

  King leaned back, letting go. ‘Well you can burn in hell now.’

  ‘How bad are you burned?’ Forest asked Erin.

  Erin couldn’t take her eyes off King.

  ‘Erin!’ Forest barked. ‘Can you run? How bad are you burned?’

  ‘I’m...I can run.’

  Forest pulled a can from his vest and sprayed the back of his neck and ears. He passed it to Erin.

  ‘This is an antiseptic and analgesic. Spray it everywhere you were burned.’

  Erin did. The intense pain in her calves reduced, but still hurt a lot.

  Forest salvaged all the gunmen’s ammunition, which wasn’t much.

  Erin held up the spray.

  ‘Keep it,’ said Forest. ‘Your burns are worse.’

  ‘What about King?’

  Forest shook his head. ‘He’s got other things on his mind.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bolton strode through the generators.

  Among other vital services, the generators served the ship’s emergency pumps.

  The pumps themselves were spread throughout the ship. He didn’t have time to sabotage them all.

  Instead, he would sabotage the system that gave the pumps life.

  The primary and secondary generators were located together for ease of servicing. As Bolton approached the primary generator, his gunmen retreated.

  They stared at his plasma lance warily.

  Bolton shook his head.

  ‘My father taught me that every motor needs two things. Spark and fuel. Take one away and the motor’s useless.’

  His men looked relieved the plasma lance wasn’t necessary.

  ‘Just turn off all the fuel lines,’ ordered Bolton. ‘That’s all it takes.’

  Bolton’s father had also taught him something about water.

  Water hated ships.

  It hated all watercraft.

  Every molecule of water on the planet felt the same way. When water contacted a ship’s hull it instantly began searching for weak spots. Engineers called it ‘water pressure’, but Bolton knew the ocean was really a nasty bitch who wanted to sink ships and drown men.

  She wouldn’t be content until every ship lay on the sea bottom.

  He found it odd when people claimed that icebergs and coral reefs sank ships. Neither did. They just altered the constant battle between water and ship.

  Whoever designed the First Lady of the Sea understood this. But they hadn’t counted on the water recruiting an ally in Bolton.

  Christov’s voice came over Bolton’s radio.

  ‘Bolton. I don’t have the acid drive. You’ll need to postpone the detonation.’

  ‘That’s impossible,’ Bolton replied flatly.

  ‘What?’ spluttered Christov. ‘You don’t tell me what’s possible. Your job is to make this possible!’

  ‘I’ve done that,’ replied Bolton. ‘You asked me to sink the largest cruise ship in the world using just the equipment carried in two helicopters. That requires explosions set to the millisecond. Our timers are already set. It’s too late to reach them all now. This ship is going down.’

  ‘How much time do I have?’ demanded Christov.

  Bolton checked his watch. ‘Fifty-six seconds.’

  ‘What?’ Christov barked. ‘Less than a minute? Give me options! What can we do?’

  ‘Find that acid drive,’ advised Bolton. ‘Because this ship is about to sink under our feet.’

  ‘Then you get your ass up here and help me,’ shouted Christov. ‘Help me kill these damn Marines!’

  Bolton smirked at his radio. ‘On my way.’

  Bolton’s men headed for the door, but Bolton didn’t move. Not yet anyway. He checked his watch.

  ...39...38...37...

  Very soon his explosives would tear great gaping holes through the ship’s hull.

  No sirens would wail.

  No emergency lights would flash.

  No automated warning messages would sound.

  There would just be water.

  Torrents and torrents of water.

  He checked his watch.

  ...24...23...22...

  ‘Are we safe in here?’ asked a gunman.

  Bolton poin
ted. ‘You might want to close that door so the pressure wave doesn’t rupture our eardrums.’

  Two gunmen sprinted for the heavy steel door.

  Slam!

  Bolton checked his watch one last time.

  ...11...10...9...

  He placed his palms on the ship’s hull. He wanted to feel the vibrations shudder through the ship like an earthquake. He closed his eyes.

  ...3...2...1...

  The ship’s mighty engines were the explosion’s epicenter. Ripped from the deck, the engines tore straight through the ship’s hull.

  As Bolton had planned, the precise timing and confined space of the engine room had amplified the detonation threefold.

  Before the water even began rushing in, most of the hull surrounding the engine room was gone. As the water came surging into the ship, the engines that hadn’t been propelled through the hull were thrown around like bath toys.

  And that was just the engine room.

  With atomic precision, eighteen separate explosions tore through the First Lady of the Sea.

  Every explosion occurred below the waterline, and every resulting hole was widened even further by the torrents of surging water.

  In the ship’s winery, thirty thousand bottles of wine exploded as the pressure wave hit. On higher levels, thousands of glasses in restaurants and bars rattled in their trays.

  On the highest deck of the ship, the canvas on the deck chairs all swung in unison as though feeling the first gust of an approaching hurricane.

  ‘Did you feel that?’ asked Forest.

  King nodded. ‘Explosions.’

  ‘I think they’re sinking the ship,’ said Forest.

  Erin shook her head. ‘We’d hear alarms if explosions had compromised the ship’s hull. We’d hear sirens on every deck.’

  Forest agreed with King. ‘They could have disabled those systems. Just like they disabled the radios. We need to reach the helipad.’

  King nodded. ‘What’s the quickest way?’

  Erin didn’t look convinced they were sinking, but she nodded and pointed out their location on Forest’s map.

  ‘We’re here. At the back of the ship. The quickest way to reach the helipad is through the maritime museum.’

  Forest folded away the map and set off, following Erin’s directions.

  When they reached the maritime museum, Forest could feel the deck tilting under his feet.

  ‘I feel it too,’ said King, reading Forest’s mind.

  ‘Pass me your water bottle,’ Erin said.

  Forest handed her the bottle.

  Polished wood covered the floor outside the maritime museum. Erin poured a little water onto the wood.

  The water beaded away quickly across the deck.

  ‘Sometimes it’s the waves,’ she explained.

  After ten seconds she tried again.

  The water rolled away in exactly the same direction.

  Erin looked shocked.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘The ship is taking water. The stern is lower than the bow. But that doesn’t mean we’re sinking. We have anti-saturation measures. We might just settle deeper in the water.’

  King shook his head. ‘No one uses explosives to half sink a ship.’

  Forest nodded. ‘This ship is sinking, Erin.’

  Erin looked stunned, as though she couldn’t comprehend the ship could really sink.

  Forest needed her mind clear. He had no doubt that Erin’s knowledge of the ship had helped keep them alive this long.

  ‘Erin,’ he said, touching her wrist. ‘We need to reach the helipad. Are you ready?’

  Erin nodded. She blinked a few times. Forest saw her determination return.

  ‘Through here,’ she pointed. ‘The museum stretches up over three decks. The top deck is close to the helipad.’

  Forest scanned through the ornate wooden archway into the maritime museum. Like the deck under his boots, the entire museum seemed to be clad in polished wood.

  ‘Okay. Let’s go.’

  Moving quickly, Forest barely glimpsed the artifacts on display. They ran past a long display of swords and flintlock pistols.

  Erin pointed them toward a section devoted to Leonardo de Vinci’s earliest prototype submarines.

  ‘There are the stairs,’ whispered Erin.

  A wide, ornately carved wooden staircase wound up to the museum’s next level. King dashed toward the stairs, keeping low, waving the others over after him.

  At the top of the stairs, Forest heard something. He grabbed Erin and pushed King behind a display cabinet filled with carved whale bones.

  He’d heard footsteps.

  He glanced around the display cabinet.

  Three men strode across the museum floor.

  One wore old, faded overalls. He looked at least thirty years older than the other two gunmen. He carried complicated-looking equipment strapped to his back. He seemed unarmed, but clearly in charge.

  The two men flanking him carried Scorpion Evo submachine guns.

  The cameras must be down, realized Forest. They don’t know we’re in here.

  King pointed Erin silently to the floor. He moved to the far end of the display case.

  King held up three fingers.

  Forest nodded, feeling his adrenaline surge.

  ...3

  ...2

  ...1

  Now!

  Both Marines opened fire on the gunmen.

  The closest gunman took the brunt of the surprise attack. He withered instantly. So many bullets tore through his body that he likely died on his feet.

  Forest switched targets, drawing down on the man wearing overalls.

  As he fired, the man dove into cover behind a life-size model of a tall ship’s wheel deck.

  Damn it, cursed Forest. There’re two left.

  From the reconstructed wheel deck a mast stretched up to the ceiling. Two wax figures stood on the deck, one at the wheel, the other peering through a telescope.

  Forest checked his ammo.

  Only eight rounds left.

  He glanced over at King.

  King held up one hand, his fingers spread.

  King only had five rounds left.

  Forest made the flanking gesture.

  King nodded, took a glance toward the ship, and then ran from behind the display cabinet.

  Forest heard instant gunfire.

  He resisted the urge to fire back. With only eight rounds in the bullet-bank, he needed to spend them wisely.

  Forest dashed in the opposite direction, sprinting toward a display of old diving equipment. He skidded into cover behind a life-sized figure wearing a huge brass diving helmet.

  He glanced around the display and saw something terrible.

  King was moving again.

  He was running in obvious sight of the gunmen.

  Forest spotted the men hiding in the shadows behind the tall ship. One instantly fired on King.

  At such a close range, the man couldn’t miss.

  The first bullet exploded through King’s upper thigh. Forest saw blood spray out from the bullet’s exit wound.

  The impact punched King’s leg sideways. His body twisted toward the gunman, providing an even larger target.

  Bullets stuttered up King’s torso.

  Blood sprayed out behind King.

  His huge body crashed into a display of clay urns.

  Forest fired a split second later.

  The man shooting at King took four bullets right between his shoulder blades. Every bullet was a heart or lung shot. Before the man collapsed forward, Forest switched targets and fired at the second man.

  The second man exploded.

  His body actually flew apart.

  His torso between his hips and shoulders crumbled into pieces the size of Forest’s fist. His shoulders, arms and head tumbled to the floor.

  His legs didn’t move.

  They stayed standing upright, joined at the hips, completely disconnected from the missing
body.

  That’s impossible, thought Forest.

  Then he saw the truth.

  It’s another wax statue!

  Erin shouted from behind cover.

  ‘Forest. Look out!’

  Forest spun.

  From behind Forest, the man wearing the overalls charged.

  He raised something to attack.

  His weapon resembled a medieval lance with a broken shaft. He only held the handle, a hand guard, and a short section of hollow shaft.

  Forest needed to finish this man quickly and help King.

  At that moment a blinding blue light erupted from the man’s weapon. Now the weapon truly did resemble a lance, but not like any Forest had ever seen.

  The weapon swung sideways toward Forest’s head.

  Forest’s first reaction was to block the attack with his empty rifle.

  His instincts screamed otherwise.

  Forest followed his instincts. He barely ducked in time. He avoided the glowing blade, but not the heat. Had he not been wearing a helmet, he felt sure his hair would have caught on fire.

  Without slowing, the weapon cleaved straight through the giant metal diving helmet.

  It’s plasma, realized Forest. He has a lance made of plasma!

  Nothing else could slice through metal like butter.

  As the man swung again, Forest dove away, tucking into a roll to put some distance between himself and certain death. He came to his feet running.

  He reached the wax legs.

  Two steps further lay the gunman he’d shot. The man’s body covered his fallen firearm. Losing precious moments, Forest wrenched the corpse aside and grabbed the weapon.

  He lifted and turned in one movement, finding the trigger as the blazing plasma carved toward him.

  The plasma struck first.

  The front half of Forest’s firearm spun away.

  Forest stumbled back from the incredible heat wave.

  He threw down the red-hot remains of the firearm and leaped over the corpse.

  The man smirked. ‘You’re as nimble as a monkey, aren’t you, boy?’

  Forest slowly backed away.

  The man matched Forest step for step, as though it were a game.

  Forest backed away through a display of cannons, expecting the man to lunge at any moment.

  The man stamped his boot on the deck. ‘Can you feel the ship sinking?’

  Forest didn’t respond.