Cataclysm: V Plague Book 18

by Dirk Patton

  CATACLYSM

  V Plague Book Eighteen

  DIRK PATTON

  Text Copyright © 2018 by Dirk Patton

  Copyright © 2018 by Dirk Patton

  All Rights Reserved

  This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright holder or publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a critical book review.

  Published by Reaper Ranch Press LLC

  PO Box 856

  Gilmer, TX 75644-0856

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2018

  ISBN: 9781729260128

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, brands, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Also by Dirk Patton

  Author’s Note

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  53

  54

  55

  56

  57

  58

  59

  Also by Dirk Patton

  The V Plague Series

  Unleashed: V Plague Book 1

  Crucifixion: V Plague Book 2

  Rolling Thunder: V Plague Book 3

  Red Hammer: V Plague Book 4

  Transmission: V Plague Book 5

  Rules Of Engagement: A John Chase Short Story

  Days Of Perdition: V Plague Book 6

  Indestructible: V Plague Book 7

  Recovery: V Plague Book 8

  Precipice: V Plague Book 9

  Anvil: V Plague Book 10

  Merciless: V Plague Book 11

  Fulcrum: V Plague Book 12

  Hunter’s Rain: A John Chase Novella

  Exodus: V Plague Book 13

  Scourge: V Plague Book 14

  Fractured: V Plague Book 15

  Brimstone: V Plague Book 16

  Abaddon: V Plague Book 17

  Cataclysm: V Plague Book 18

  The 36 Series

  36: A Novel

  The Void: A 36 Novel

  Other Titles

  Coldfall

  Author’s Note

  Thank you for purchasing Cataclysm, Book 18 in the V Plague series. If you haven’t read the first seventeen books, you need to stop reading now and pick them up, otherwise you will be utterly lost as this book is intended to continue the story in a serialized format. I intentionally did nothing to explain comments and events that reference books 1 through 17. Regardless, you have my heartfelt thanks for reading my work and I hope you’re enjoying the adventure as much as I am. As always, a good review on Amazon is greatly appreciated.

  You can always correspond with me via email at dirk@dirkpatton.com and find me on the internet at www.dirkpatton.com and follow me on Twitter @DirkPatton and if you’re on Facebook, please like my page at www.facebook.com/FearThePlague .

  Thanks again for reading!

  Dirk Patton

  2018

  Ain't found a way to kill me yet

  Eyes burn with stinging sweat

  Seems every path leads me to nowhere

  Wife and kids, household pet

  Army green was no safe bet

  The bullets scream to me from somewhere

  Here they come to snuff the rooster, aww yeah, hey yeah

  Yeah here come the rooster, yeah

  You know he ain't gonna die

  No, no, no, ya know he ain't gonna die

  Rooster ― Alice In Chains

  1

  Strickland fired twice, two females spinning dead onto the sand. Next to him, Igor grunted as he used his knife to impale a leaping infected before tossing her to the side like a rag doll.

  “More coming,” Irina said from right behind them.

  They’d come ashore on the beach near Santa Barbara, California. A careful survey from off shore with both night vision and thermal scanners had failed to detect a large group of females on the inland side of the dunes. It wasn’t until they’d been dropped off by a team of SEALs and were alone that the infected had attacked.

  Igor turned to the direction Irina was pointing, bringing his weapon up and firing several shots. Strickland was still engaging a group of nearly fifteen who were charging in from the flank. The deep, soft sand slowed the females significantly, which was the only reason they hadn’t already been overrun. But they were being steadily pushed back toward the ocean.

  “We gotta move!” Strickland called as he changed magazines.

  “Where go?” Igor asked as he kept fighting.

  “Water’s edge. Sand’s wet and hard. We can run.”

  “Irina go!” Igor called without hesitation.

  She turned and dashed toward the crashing surf, stopping with her feet in the frigid water. Igor and Strickland kept shooting as they fell back until reaching the solid footing.

  “North!” Strickland called.

  He broke into a jog, still firing at incoming targets as he ran. Irina fell in with him and Igor stayed close to her back. The females were charging in at an angle, trying to intercept them, but as Strickland put on more speed they were able to maintain their distance.

  “Save your ammo,” he called over his shoulder, but Igor had already stopped firing.

  He pushed harder, breaking into a full run. Irina, in the best shape of her life, paced him with Igor bringing up the rear.

  “Where are we going?” she called, sparing a glance over her shoulder.

  They were slowly opening some distance between them and the nearest infected. Igor added to their lead by shooting the three closest females.

  “There!”

  Strickland was pointing straight ahead at a narrow lagoon with a crumbling boat dock. A small, open fishing boat bobbed gently in the protected water, a single line holding it fast.

  “We cannot go out there in that!” Irina cried.

  “No choice. It’s that or we get overwhelmed,” Strickland shouted back.

  Igor fired several more shots, which pushed Irina to find even more speed.

  “Don’t slow! Straight in,” Strickland shouted just before he reached the inlet.

  Following his own instructions, he dashed forward, then dove into the water. Irina stutter stepped, hesitating for an instant, but Igor put his big hand in the middle of her back and shoved.

  With a small cry, she flew forward, panicking when the weight of her pack dragged her beneath the surface. Before she knew what was happening, a strong hand yanked her up and she spit water before gratefully taking a deep breath.

  “Swim!” Strickland shouted
in her ear as he pushed her toward the center of the lagoon.

  There was the sound of two bodies impacting each other, then a large splash as Igor was tackled into the water. Strickland fired twice at a pair of females who were leaping from the water’s edge, then had to engage with a third who’d made it close enough to latch onto his vest.

  With a tight grip on her hair, he held the snapping teeth at bay with one hand while fumbling for his knife with the other. Cursing as the bitch clawed at his arm, he gave up on the blade, drew his pistol and shoved the muzzle into her mouth as he pulled the trigger. The back of her head was blown out and he released the body, turning to help Igor, but the big Spetsnaz was pushing his attacker’s corpse away. Its head was at a sharp angle from a snapped neck. Turning, he swam hard, following Irina’s kicking feet as she struggled toward the boat.

  He was beside her when they reached the small craft, grabbing onto the low side with one hand and hauling her forward with the other until she had a firm grip. A pair of females charging down the rickety dock screamed and he raised his pistol, dispatching both while still in the water. More infected were fast approaching as Strickland hauled himself aboard.

  “Hold tight!” he shouted to Irina as he slashed the rotting rope that secured the boat to the dock.

  Leaning out, he placed a foot on the pier, intending to open some space, but the wood had degraded beyond the point of maintaining any structural integrity. Strickland expected a solid surface to push against, but the large piling crumbled beneath his boot, throwing him severely off balance and back into the water.

  By the time he surfaced, blowing like a beached whale, Strickland was immediately set upon by a pair of females who’d leapt into the water. The fight was vicious and brutal, his blood mixing with theirs as his face and hands were slashed open before he could shoot one infected in the face and crush the other’s skull with the butt of his pistol.

  A cry from Irina and answering shout from Igor sent another surge of adrenaline through his battered body. Twisting in the water, he was momentarily shocked to see the small boat, with Irina still clinging to the side, exiting the lagoon. The same current that had pulled her out into the heavy surf of the open ocean was pulling him along as he tread water.

  Igor was swimming for the narrow opening with long, powerful strokes and Strickland immediately joined in the pursuit. But both men were weighed down with weapons and heavy packs and as a wave lifted the boat and Irina, he realized she was already forty yards off shore.

  Coming to a stop in the water, he cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed for her to climb aboard, but she couldn’t hear him over the roar of the ocean. Igor, still swimming, reached the exit to open water and was instantly caught in a current that pulled him away from land, but in the opposite direction the wind and waves were taking the boat.

  Strickland screamed a second time, hoping beyond hope Irina would hear him. If she did, she didn’t make any effort to pull herself aboard. Taking a deep breath to try a third time, it caught in his throat and Strickland watched in horror as an especially large wave broke over the tiny craft, burying it and Irina beneath tons of seawater.

  He kept his eyes glued to the spot until the boat reappeared on the roiling surface of the ocean. It was capsized, the hull all that was visible. Irina was gone.

  2

  Three AM.

  Three. Fucking. A. M.

  I was awake, staring at the ceiling. My mind raced, thinking about twenty different topics, one after another. Unfortunately, this was the new normal for me, thanks to my infected status. According to Joe Revard, my body simply needed less sleep than it used to. But three hours a night? However, it was difficult to argue the point as I felt completely rested and refreshed.

  Next to me, Rachel snored softly, her face hidden somewhere within a mass of tangled hair. She was partially curled with her ass pressed tightly against my hip and her feet sticking over the edge of the mattress. Did I mention she’d managed to lay claim to about two-thirds of the king size bed? Oh well. I’m not complaining.

  There was also a buzz saw going full speed from the far side of the room, or at least that’s what it sounded like. It was actually Dog, sacked out on a small love seat, all four legs straight up in the air. How Rachel could sleep through that racket, or for that matter how I had done so was a mystery I wasn’t interested in exploring.

  Moving cautiously so I didn’t rock the bed and wake Rachel, I slipped from beneath the sheet and stood. Dog snorted awake, reminding me of a bull preparing to charge, then in one smooth motion, rolled off the sofa and landed on his feet. He stood there staring at me for a moment and I could see it coming, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.

  Screwing his eyes shut, Dog let loose with an explosive sneeze that twisted his head around and left a large wet patch on the floor. I quickly looked at Rachel whose soft snores didn’t miss a beat. Shaking my head in amazement, I pulled on a pair of shorts, wandered out into a short hallway and cracked open the door of an adjacent bedroom.

  Mavis was in almost exactly the same position as Rachel. Curled into a half ball, feet dangling in space. She didn’t stir and I eased the door closed without a sound. Returning to the master bedroom, I grabbed a pack of cigarettes and stepped through an open sliding door onto a broad lanai.

  Dog padded out with me, instantly thrusting his head into my lap when I sat down. Lighting a smoke, I scratched his ears and looked out across the million-dollar view of a white sand beach, gently swaying palm trees and the dark Pacific Ocean. The temperature was perfection, especially with a light on-shore breeze. The moon was full, creating the perfect romantic scene for a tourist brochure. And the smell of death and decay was heavy in the air.

  At least it was for me, with my virus enhanced senses. I’d tried describing it to Rachel, hoping she could at least catch a whiff of something amiss, but she’d been unable to detect even a hint of what I could smell. With a sigh, I smoked and stared at the waves crashing on the beach, happy that the burning tobacco at least temporarily masked the constant reminder that the world was dying.

  Dog’s ears twitched a moment before I heard a pair of vehicles pulling to a stop in front of the beach house where Rachel and I were honeymooning. The rattle of the engines was recognizable as belonging to Humvees and as several doors softly thunked shut I stood and slid the patio door closed then returned to my chair.

  Less than a minute later, a pair of Marines in full battle rattle appeared on the beach, moving silently as they scanned the area with night vision and thermal optics. Dog watched them closely, remaining still until a tall, ramrod straight figure emerged from the darkness at the side of the lanai.

  “Am I intruding?” Admiral Packard called softly.

  “Come on up, sir.”

  I didn’t bother getting up. I was wearing nothing but a pair of workout shorts and he was casually dressed in khakis and a polo. Besides, it was three in the fucking morning and I was on my honeymoon.

  The Admiral climbed up, scratched Dog’s ears and settled into the chair next to mine.

  “Thought you’d be awake,” he said, then stole one of my cigarettes and lit up.

  “Three hours, max,” I said. “You too?”

  “A little less,” he said, shrugging and leaning back to stare at the ocean with me.

  Several minutes passed in silence. Not the uncomfortable type where no one knows what to say, but the companionable kind shared by two men to whom life has dealt a screwed-up hand.

  “The stench is awful,” Packard said, breaking the silence. “It’s like... hell, I don’t know. Never smelled anything like it.”

  “Once,” I said in a faraway voice. “Africa. Middle of a civil war. Bodies everywhere, bloated and rotting in the sun. It was so bad that the sickly-sweet smell was in the mud and the trees. I swear you could even taste it in anything that was grown in the soil.”

  I could feel him looking at me in the darkness, but I kept my gaze focused on the con
stant motion of the water.

  “Why haven’t you taken the cure?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “I will,” he said, lighting a fresh cigarette. “As soon as we’ve completed the exodus to the mainland. Too much to do and the damn infection has given me more energy than I’ve had in forty years. Maybe ever.”

  “How’re things going?”

  “We’re almost back on schedule. Should be ready by the end of the month.”

  I thought about that for a beat, then snorted a laugh.

  “Hell, sir. I don’t even have a clue what the date is.”

  He looked at me for a moment in surprise, then smiled and nodded his head.

  “February, Colonel. The fifth of February.”

  I thought about that for a minute, trying to reconcile everything that I’d been through since the fateful night of the attacks.

  “So, it’s been how long since this all started?” I asked, finally giving up trying to figure things out.

  “Little more than a year and a half.”

  I leaned my head back on the chair and stared at the moon. I finally decided I’d take his word for it. We lapsed into another long silence.

  “Have you had a chance to talk to the Athena Project?” I asked.

  “I did. And they have some theories about Captain Martinez, but that’s all they are.”

  “Did they share them?” I asked when he didn’t continue.

  He nodded and stubbed out his cigarette. Started to lean back, then scrunched his nose and lit another.

  “Something called a temporal rift.”

  “That certainly explains it.”

  He took a drag, smoke wreathing his head momentarily before the breeze whipped it away.

  “Means that time was ruptured, or something like that. The Chief Scientist for Athena, Doctor Anholts, is quite keen to meet Captain Martinez and attempt to sort out why she was impacted.”

  I was looking at the Admiral as he spoke, but he didn’t turn to meet my gaze.

  “Does she think the event was limited to Martinez? Could there be other changes we haven’t discovered yet?”