The Reaper Plague

by David VanDyke

  By midnight they had not located Rick – or anyone else for that matter since nightfall, and Muzik called off the recovery efforts, sending everyone to sleep back at the forest camp except for those on watch. “You ready to do this?” he asked her as they checked their weapons and gear.

  “You really nervous enough to ask questions like that, sir?” she bantered.

  “Losing most of my command makes me nervous, yes, Master Sergeant,” he responded dryly, but she could hear the warmth in his underlying tone.

  “And your arm.”

  “You had to bring that up.”

  “Gotta hand it to me, sir.”

  “But I can’t anymore, right.” He grinned that movie-star grin. “Come on, let’s go get those people out.”

  Trite phrases before battle, Repeth thought, but somehow comforting. And I’m damn glad it’s Muzik coming with me. After Spooky, I’ve never served with a finer officer. She shook the thoughts out of her head and rolled her shoulders to loosen them, then jumped up and down a couple of times. She taped down one clink then did it again, and camoed her face with a tube from her pocket.

  Muzik said, “I’ve ordered a diversionary attack on the Fredericksburger lines to the southwest, away from the escape area. That’ll start when I call for it, or at 0200 in any case. It should draw their attention.”

  “Good idea. You’ll need knee pads, sir, for the crawling.” She fitted her own, getting the tightness right, and then helped him with his. Her camouflage stretch net went over her head, and she was ready.

  She saw Muzik had fitted a night vision sight onto his PW10. She had already considered and discarded that idea; she preferred to operate without the dangerous delay of changing modes and switching eyes. Still, it might be useful. She dug her suppressor out of her ruck and threaded it onto her weapon, as did Muzik. The shots they fired would now be almost silent.

  They moved out at twelve thirty, and she only had to refer to the GPS once before finding the long storm drain pipe that led through the enemy lines. Inside the pipe she asked quietly, “Any chance of the Homies coming back in time to help?”

  “No. Their job was to go down to what’s left of Richmond and see if there was a state government. If Virginia can start functioning again, it will help put the US back together again. It’s the northernmost and the wealthiest of the mid-Atlantic states that didn’t get plastered.”

  “What about Maryland?”

  “Hit too hard by the nukes and plague both, I think. And the people are different. Marylanders on this side of the Bay are mostly urban or suburban people, basically liberal statists. They’ll fall back in line with whatever governance shows up. The ones on the Eastern Shore will have come through better, but will only have enough resources to help themselves.” He chuckled quietly. “But most Virginians are an ornery self-reliant bunch, at least those south of about Quantico. They’re suspicious of the Feds ever since the War.”

  Repeth looked at Muzik sideways. “What war?”

  “The War of Northern Aggression, of course. If they decide to resist the rebuilding – notice I didn’t say ‘reconstruction,’ that’s still a dirty word to Southerners – it could make things very hard. So we sent the Homeland Security company with a special envoy from the President.”

  “I hadn’t heard about all that.”

  “You weren’t supposed to.”

  -37-

  Major General Alice Zimmer’s eyes burned with barely-controlled fury as she screamed orders at her staff. “I don’t care if George effing Trebow says he needs to hold back three tanks, tell him he will send all nine or I will personally come down there and kick his nuts up between his shoulder blades, and you can quote me. What about Jimmy-John?”

  “I’m here, Alice.” The woeful voice proceeded from a pale hound-dog face, but the man’s manner was confident and his eyes stared at the short middle-aged black woman without fear. The very fact that a Lieutenant Colonel called a two-star by her first name said it all, though only a close inspection of their matching wedding rings would have revealed what “it all” was.

  She took three steps over to her much taller husband and put a hand on his arm. “Jimmy-John, you got to go corral George for me. That chickenshit son of a bitch doesn’t want to weaken his defenses but hell, there ain’t no one to defend against closer than Raleigh, not since we cleaned Petersburg’s clock. He don’t need those Abrams. The mobile gun systems will do him just fine for emplaced defense.”

  “Sure, Alice. I’ll handle it.” He leaned down to kiss her, and turned to go persuade Nervous George to give up his armor.

  “James,” she said to her aide – she called him James to clearly distinguish him from her husband – “you got them plans run out to everyone?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Everyone should be ready by first light.”

  “You keep after them, hear? I got to go see the boss and some fancy-boy from Washington. I mean Pueblo, I guess. Just don’t seem right…” She turned and stomped out of the operations center and jumped into her Humvee. A few minutes later she pulled up to the front steps of the Governor’s Office building, waving at the nearest Capitol police officer to park it. They were used to her proclivities; she was a force of nature and there was no point protesting. Besides, with martial law declared she seemed to think they worked for her, and they weren’t about to argue.

  She marched past all the Governor’s functionaries and gatekeepers, ignoring their looks and faint protests to barge right into his office. She crushed Allaine’s hand in hers. “Howdy, Howard, what the hell is going on?”

  He never could figure out how she generated so much strength out of a body no taller than his armpit. “That’s what I called you to discuss, Alice.”

  She tried the same trick on Tyler, but he squeezed back, unperturbed. She said, “Good to see you again, General. Got the virus and they put you out to pasture? Well, I can’t blame you. Marcy musta got tired of your willy going limp every time you tried to give it to her.”

  “Alice!” cried the Governor, but Tyler waved him off with a laugh. “Don’t worry about it, sir. Alice and I are old friends. I can’t think of anyone better to put in charge of this operation. And no, Alice, I didn’t get retired because I’m an Eden. I’m working directly for the President now, trying to put the country back together again.”

  “You jes’ keep telling yourself that, Travis. Nice suit, by the way. I thought you had better taste.”

  “And I thought you had better manners. Now can we skip the lovefest and talk about saving my peoples’ lives?”

  Alice Zimmer sat down like a jack-in-in-the-box run backwards and peered intently at Tyler. Her face puckered up like she was sucking lemons. “Okay then Travis, git on with it.”

  -38-

  Repeth fell silent as they approached the end of the drainpipe. I guess a Master Sergeant isn’t good enough to know the top secrets. Then she laughed silently at herself. I turned down the commission. I’m already having it both ways, keeping my three-up, three-down and commanding a platoon both. Stop whining, Jill.

  They moved slowly and carefully into the dark old town area. The moon had gone down and the shadows were deep, pitch-black in places. Off in the distance she could hear engine noise and see artificial light, and they made sure to keep obstacles between themselves and the source.

  A few buildings seemed lit by primitive sources, lanterns or candles, but most were dark. Once a dog rushed out of the blackness barking and Repeth’s weapon coughed. She hoped the Needleshock had spared it but she could hardly let a dog’s life weigh in the balance against all of their people.

  From the edge of the lighted zone she could see a cluster of buildings illuminated by large industrial lights. One section was surrounded by a ragged cyclone and barbed wire fence, with concertina wire crudely fastened to the top. They could see a couple of bored-looking guards with rifles, obviously there to keep prisoners in, not rescuers out.

  The other section had no fence around it, but lights b
lazed from every window. One building sported garish neon signs. It appeared to be a bar or club. Other buildings seemed to house governmental functions. The Confederate battle flag flew above or adorned the walls of these buildings. People filled the club, spilled outside. Celebrating their victory, it seemed.

  Repeth put her mouth close the Muzik’s ear. “We need to take out the lights. Or the generators. Then you can pop them with your night scope while I move in close.”

  “That’s it? That’s your plan?”

  If his tone hadn’t been light she would have taken it for incredulity. “I’m going to try to find the women. They might be in that club building.”

  “No. I sympathize, but that’s bad tactics. You take out the generators, then I’ll tap the guards in my night scope. While I do, you steal a truck and crash through that fencing. We have to rely on Grusky to have the prisoners ready to overpower the guards, and we have to help them. Then instead of two people we’ll have hundreds. Someone will know where the rest of our people are – the women, Rick, whoever. If we have a little luck we’ll clean out this nest in one fell swoop.”

  Repeth’s protest died in her throat, because he was right. “Okay. One fell swoop it is. What does that mean, anyway? Never mind, tell me later mister college smarty-pants officer. Here, take the radio.” She clipped it onto his shoulder strap.

  He choked a chuckle. “Okay. I’ll call in the diversion in one minute. Get moving, Little Miss Reaper.” Muzik set himself in position with a clear view of the whole south side of the prisoner barracks, cover from the sides, and a fallback route to his rear. Then he made the radio call and waited for the lights to go out.

  Repeth circled around to the west, keeping to the zone outside the artificial lighting, not looking at the bright lights. She navigated by the sound of the big diesel engines running, eventually finding the generators in a fenced-in yard to the north. Unfortunately they were accompanied by two light armored vehicles just like the ones that had assaulted them earlier. In fact, they could be the same ones, though there was no way to tell.

  Absent explosives – something she did not have – she would have to sneak into the yard and shut the generators down by hand. Gonna be hard – everything is lit up. There’s a catch-22 for ya – generator power to the lights that illuminate the generators. Then she thought of another possibility as she noticed the open rear door on one of the LAVs.

  Sloppy.

  Working her way around, eventually she was able to see directly into the cramped interior compartment of the vehicle. There were several uniformed troops in it, but they weren’t moving.

  In fact, they were asleep.

  Really sloppy, and just what I need.

  Without waiting to think it through or talk herself out of it, she silently charged the open hatch, PW10 tight to her shoulder as she made her rapid approach under the bright lights. No one responded until her boots hit the ramp. Then she fired short bursts on full automatic until everyone inside was incapacitated.

  She was fairly sure that the confines of the vehicle and the noisy generators would cover the faint sounds of the suppressed shots. She tossed the infantrymen out of the back with several convulsive heaves, but kept their weapons inside.

  Dragging the unconscious turret gunner out of his position and down the ramp to join his buddies, then the driver, she started up the LAV’s engine. She frantically tried to recall everything she’d learned about how to operate one of these things. She managed to get the ramp closed, its electric whine filling the inside, then she spent a precious two minutes working out how to drive it. Once she was sure how, she crawled back into the turret space.

  One more minute and she was ready to try out the 25mm electric chain gun. “Here goes nothing,” she said out loud and rotated the turret to aim at the other LAV. She lined up the gun very precisely, using its optics to place the crosshairs on the lower outer edge of the enemy turret, where it met the body of the vehicle. Then she depressed the trigger.

  Vibration rattled her bones as the electric motor screamed, driving the mechanism that rotated shells through the gun breech. Explosive sound pummeled her as the 25-millimeter rounds fired and then impacted her target at less than fifty yards, point-blank for such a weapon.

  Her guts twisted as she saw the deadly effect of her gun on the other vehicle. She had tried to fire at a place that would disable and lock up the enemy turret without necessarily killing the people inside, but the LAV rocked and then exploded. One of the rounds must have ricocheted inside and set off ammo or fuel.

  This is war, she reminded herself with gritted teeth, and they have Rick and the others. She rotated her turret, walking the heavy bullets across the generators. A moment later they caught fire and ground to scattered halts with horrible, tortured-machinery noises. Abruptly the compound plunged into darkness as much of Fredericksburg lost power.

  Glowing dashboard lights were now the only illumination, but that was all she needed to drop into the driver’s seat and pilot the vehicle forward, her head out the small front hatch. She crushed a small car and ran over some garbage cans before she got the hang of it. She could see people running frantically hither and thither but none of them fired at her vehicle. They had no reason to think it was hostile.

  Thirty seconds was all it took until the makeshift prison compound was in sight. Dozens, perhaps hundreds of figures poured out of the barracks and rushed toward the fence. Shots rang out and she screamed in frustration as she could see the startled guards indiscriminately gunning people down. She swerved to hit and crush one, reminding herself of the lives she saved by doing so. “Get back from the fence!” she hollered over the noise of the engine and the shooting, and turned toward the barrier.

  Some prisoners saw what she was doing and dragged others back, but there were too many to just bull through. She’d end up crushing them. Instead, at the last second she swerved to strike the fence at an oblique, tearing it loose from its steel poles and then driving down it lengthwise as she gunned the engine. The eight wheels and powerful power plant of the twenty-ton vehicle dragged post after post out of the earth, but eventually enough debris piled up in front that she ground to a halt. By that time she had ripped almost the entire west fence down. Prisoners escaped in a wave behind her.

  Someone pounded on the hull behind, but she couldn’t see who. Then Butler materialized next to her driver’s vision hatch. “Hey, Sarge,” he greeted her, giddy with his release. “Great job! Need any help in there?”

  “Yeah, I’ll drop the ramp, then I’ll pull it right up. We need fighters, not passengers,” she replied. “If you can get a few of our people in there we can use the 25-mike and the gun ports.” She reached for the ramp control.

  Thirty seconds later she started backing up as the ramp was still rising. She had to gun the engine to get loose of the tangle of fence poles and wire fouling the front of the LAV, then she swung the vehicle in a tight circle and began hunting.

  “Butler,” she yelled back into the turret, “can anyone else drive?”

  “I can,” came a high young voice. Repeth switched places with a compact young female MP from a different platoon, and immediately climbed up to open the commander’s hatch in the turret. Butler took his place below her on the gun. He handed up headphones and she saw him put his on.

  She said over the intercom, “The best thing we can do with this thing is keep the chaos going, break up any enemy counterattacks, especially if there are more armored vehicles around. All the prisoners should be running for the rendezvous point to the southeast. Driver, turn left along the prison perimeter and look for enemy. Butler, engage any enemy vehicles or heavy weapons you see. I don’t know how much ammo we have. I’ll try to pick off singles.” She snapped a shot with her PW10 at a Fredericksburger in uniform just as an example. She missed, but he dove for cover.

  A Humvee rounded a corner ahead, top-mounted .50 caliber machinegun firing at fleeing prisoners. “Target front! Humvee, one hundred meters! Engage.”
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br />   “Target front, Humvee, one hundred meters, firing.” Butler replied calmly. The electric turret whined as it centered. Repeth crouched in the hatch as she saw the fifty line up on the LAV, then the 25mm chain gun spoke. Five rounds punched through the armored jeeplike vehicle. The shockwave of the shells as they holed the compartment burst enemy eardrums and rendered them unconscious even when missing them entirely.

  The enemy gunner, strapped into his seat behind the fifty, kept firing grimly. “Ram them!” Repeth yelled unnecessarily into the intercom, and the driver accelerated, steering for the now-immobile Humvee. Twenty tons met four, no contest; the gunner’s body whiplashed and the force threw him clear as his harness snapped.

  “Halt!” she barked. When the LAV came to a stop Repeth stood up in the hatch and blinked, trying to sort out which patch of darkness was the fallen gunner. She carefully lined up her PW10, thumbing the selector switch to semi-auto, and fired at the man lying there unconscious. Far from executing a fallen enemy, she was trying to wound him with a Needleshock round, which would fill his bloodstream with Eden Plague and save his life. On the third try she saw his leg jerk. “Get going! Head west!” she snapped, and the LAV swung back the way they came.

  As much as she wanted to try to find the women – and Rick – she knew her best tactic was to keep commanding the LAV, hunting the enemy. She spent the next twenty minutes racing back and forth, east and west, disabling or destroying several more Humvees and trucks, driving back the enemy where she found them. Old Town Fredericksburg, filled with wooden and brick buildings dating back to the Civil War and Reconstruction, was burning merrily in several places, giving her plenty of light to see by. Butler had gotten the thermal sights working and soon they were unopposed by anything that could hurt them.