Plague Years (Book 3): This Thing of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine

by Rounds, Mark

  “In other words, not much,” said Lassiter.

  “Not much, sir,” said Chad resignedly.

  “My drones are up with lots of fuel and the best sensors I had,” said Lassiter. “I traded weapons for time on target and an improved chance to find the General. I have vectored one to help watch these guys, but that is about all I can do. There are two Army Apaches due to your AO at about sunset. They are long on sensors but are packing their 30mm and eight Hellfires. FYI, the Army has repeatedly told me that we are way short of Hellfires so don’t waste them. They have decent night vision gear, but need a target.

  “We also have intel, primarily from Major Tippet’s interrogation of captured mercenaries, that Macklin is near Steptoe as well with a mobile company sized element. Our forces are outnumbered. As much as it goes against my grain, prudence would indicate a withdrawal.”

  “Sir, I recommend that we use the Apaches to strike at the MRAPs,” said Chad after some thought.

  “I assume you have a good reason Captain?” said Lassiter pointedly. “Our ability to identify the target is limited at night. It is entirely possible that we will miss Nergüi entirely. May I remind you that our first priority is to find and retrieve the General?”

  “Yes sir,” said Chad sweating a little, “I am aware that we will likely not kill Nergüi without someone lasing the target, a capability we don’t have. But let’s look at the big picture. Our last piece of useable intel on the General and his party put him near the Turnbull Wildlife Refuge on foot and likely on the move cross country to avoid Nergüi and Macklin. Further, we have Macklin and Nergüi solidly located around Steptoe, at least thirty miles south. Sir, they are not looking in the right place.”

  “So why attack and risk limited assets?” asked Lassiter.

  “Because the real first priority is to keep the General alive so we can rescue him,” said Chad. “We need to convince Nergüi and company that his quarry is close to Moscow. Keep the bad guys focused on this area. That way, your drones and whatever Fairchild can scrape together will have more time to work. It is also not out of the question the General will come up with his own solution. It leaves our adversary out on a limb where, maybe, we can get another crack at him.”

  “I will vector the Apaches to hit Nergüi,” said Lassiter ruefully. “I will need you to make some sort of attack on Macklin with the assets in place.”

  “We can have some harassing fire on them in just a few minutes,” said Chad worriedly.

  “I can detect some uncertainty in your voice, Strickland,” said Lassiter.

  “Yes sir,” said Chad, “This is exactly the right thing to do, but my son is the sniper for the Pullman-based patrol. It will be him that will most likely be firing on Macklin. I guess I need to get better at being dispassionate.”

  “You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t worry,” said Lassiter somewhat more kindly. “Besides we all have things to work on. I need to get better at thinking out of the box for example.”

  “Just hang around the General a while sir,” said Chad. “After all, he warped me.”

  July 10th, Friday, 7:53 pm PDT

  US Highway 195 just north of Steptoe WA

  “I realize you need support sir,” said Macklin into his cell phone, the beads of sweat popping up on his brow, “But I can see the smoke from the last group I sent your way. To do this right, I am going to have to dismount more of my troops and probe Steptoe and the surrounding area. Otherwise I’ll likely lose another bus on a road I was told was clear.”

  “Think, Macklin,” said Nergüi. “My force has been attacked with some pretty high tech weaponry. The troops who hit you weren’t farmers with deer rifles either. The bands of Infected have been attacked, how or by whom I don’t know, but think for a minute, why are they working so hard against us? Why are they here at all?”

  “You think Antonopoulos is close.” said Macklin. It was more of a statement than a question for the same thought had been percolating in his mind.

  “Yes!” said Nergüi triumphantly. “He has to be. All of their assets are here. There is now a drone overhead and they are watching my every move. They can likely see Steptoe too. He is around here somewhere. I like your idea, dismount, search the area. Send Ölnirsen to me leading a patrol on foot. He should make it here before midnight.”

  “Ölnirsen is no longer with us,” said Macklin inwardly cringing. “He was in the bus that was taken out. No one has made it back from that yet.”

  “He is still alive,” said Nergüi after a second’s pause. “Sayla’s capture was too large a security leak. Much of what we are suffering is a result of that unfortunate incident. I will take time to deal with this issue.”

  As Macklin put down the phone an involuntary shiver ran up his spine. He knew all too well what Nergüi could do to the minds of his supporters. He wondered if the same would be held in store for him.

  July 10th, Friday, 8:17 pm PDT

  US Highway 195 just south of Steptoe WA

  “JD, do you know the terrain around here?” asked Dave. “I just got word from higher. We need to run a patrol around to the other side of Steptoe, find Macklin and take him under harassing fire.”

  “Sir, I used to run a trucking company in these parts,” said JD with some pride. “We hauled grain, cattle, wood chips and all manner of cargo around here. I know the ground.”

  “OK then, I need you to lead a small patrol forward to contact,” said Dave. “You wouldn’t happen to have any deer hunters with long ranged rifles would you?”

  “I hunt some,” said JD, “but all of us are armed with pistols and carbines. I have a Remington 1100 semi-auto shotgun. I thought it would be more use from horse back.”

  “It was a good call,” said Dave reassuringly. “We do have a pretty good sniper we can send if you can spare a horse.”

  “Can your man ride?” asked JD.

  “I don’t know,” said Dave, “let’s ask him. Connor!”

  “Yes sir,” said Connor as he got up of his sniper position.

  “You ever ride much?” asked Dave.

  “A little, in Boy Scouts when I was twelve,” said Connor dubiously. “It was a while ago and frankly, I wasn’t very good.”

  “We’ll go on foot then,” said JD. “I figure smaller is better. I’ll go and I’ll take Private Ulman with me. He’s from around these parts. He knows the farmers and the people in town. How many do you need to send?”

  “Connor and his spotter,” said Dave,” but there is a problem with that. Gibson, Sayla get over here!”

  “What do you need, Skipper?” said Gibson.

  “Are you up to a late night patrol?” asked Dave seriously. “It’s probably on foot, over rough country and it will likely last most of the night.”

  “Sir, I am willing,” said Gibson with some remorse, “but I don’t think I can keep up with these young bucks. I’ll just slow them down.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” said Dave as he clapped Gibson on the shoulder. “If you hadn’t mentioned it, I would have pulled you off anyway. Shows some smarts, which is sometimes hard for a Marine.”

  “Sayla,” continued Dave. “Can you be Connor’s spotter?”

  Sayla nodded.

  “OK,” said Dave. “Get ready to move out at sunset.”

  “He always talk that much?” asked JD pointing at Sayla after the three troops had left.

  “First off,” said Dave, “Sayla can hear and see better than most, so be careful with stuff like that. But while we are on the subject, he’s a real chatterbox now compared to when he joined us. He is also silent as a cat and instant death. If you need him, you will be grateful he is along.”

  “AAARRGGHH!!” screamed Ölnirsen completely derailing Dave’s next remark. They both turned to look and saw the big Icelander arching his back in what appeared to be a seizure. It took three soldiers to hold him down despite the fact that he was severely wounded.

  “What’s going on!” shouted Dave but Amber was already
on it.

  “Nergüi’s trying to kill him!” shouted Amber.

  “Can you do anything?” asked Dave over the big blond man’s screams.

  “I am trying!” said Amber forcefully into Dave’s face. “Quit joggling my elbow!”

  Just then, Ölnirsen’s eyes rolled back into his head as he went into a continuous spasm. Amber grabbed him.

  “Look at me!” she shouted into his face.

  For a second, Ölnirsen’s eyes cleared and he relaxed.

  “Thank you,” whispered Ölnirsen and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp.

  “What happened?” asked Dave with alarm.

  “Ölnirsen is dead,” said Amber with tears in her eyes. “Nergüi was deep in his mind, killing him. I tried to shield him, but Nergüi has been in his mind for a long time. I couldn’t stop him, so, in the end, I helped him die.”

  “I can’t even imagine what you went through,” said Dave.

  “There will be time for that later,” said Amber harshly. “We have work to do!”

  July 10th, Friday, 8:41 pm PDT

  On State Highway 23, just west of Steptoe

  Nergüi had driven the remnants of his patrol off the road into the center of a wheat field. He disembarked his troops and set them up in a hasty defense around the perimeter with an MRAP at each apex of a rather irregular triangle. Then he had retreated to the MRAP he had been riding in to deal with Ölnirsen, an ordeal he expected to take a couple of hours to make sure he was really dead. What he encountered shook him to the bone.

  That woman; that untrained Chosen woman with the Stricklands had actually thwarted him for a while, and then she killed Ölnirsen like turning out a light. Nergüi knew he couldn’t do that. She was a menace to his plans and he had to make sure, very sure that she was either captured or killed. If she developed to her full potential …

  Nergüi’s reverie was interrupted by the impact of three 30mm projectiles into the side of the MRAP. The high velocity rounds had passed through the side armor, which was designed to stop small arms and fragments, like butter and penetrated through to the other side. One passed so close to Nergüi that his cellphone was destroyed on his hip.

  Nergüi rolled out of his vehicle and onto the ground.

  “Sven!” shouted an agitated Nergüi, “Were you awake?!” What just happened?”

  “They came out low from the direction of the setting sun,” answered Sven who was also slightly rattled. “They were on us before we knew what happened.”

  “And just what were ‘They’?” asked Nergüi sarcastically.

  “Combat helicopters,” said Sven. “I don’t know the model.”

  Just then two of the MRAPS exploded in a cascade of fire. Seconds later, the helicopters roared overhead strafing the last MRAP and any unfortunate who happened to be near them.

  Nergüi rushed to the only MRAP that wasn’t on fire to see that the engine compartment had been punctured several times and the engine block had been penetrated. Oil was streaming all over the ground.

  “Apparently, we are on foot now,” said Nergüi to the shocked troops that surrounded him. “We will move away from the burning vehicles in case they come back. Keep silent. If any of these cretins make any noise at all, Sven, you are to kill them instantly and quietly.

  “You!” continued Nergüi pointing at one of the hapless mercenaries with him. “You’re point. Try not to step into any ambushes.”

  July 10th, Friday, 9:31 pm PDT

  West edge of the Turnbull Wildlife Refuge near Mock WA

  They had been skirting the west edge of the Turnbull Wildlife refuge on foot after having left their P-19 fire engine. GEN Antonopoulos and his collection of aircrew, firemen, and PJ’s wandered past the remains of Mock, Washington, a small town that never lived up to its full potential and was now just a bunch of foundations and the remains of some dirt streets.

  “Sir, I think I am getting something,” said Airman Blevins who was manning the radio.

  “What is it?” asked Antonopoulos warily.

  “Someone is transmitting your call sign,” said Blevins, “and then requesting authentication. Should I respond?”

  “Sir, this could be a trick to winkle you out into the open,” said Major Kong.

  “Blevins,” said Antonopoulos, “is the sequence and procedure right for standard Air Force authentication?”

  “Yes sir,” said Blevins.

  “Sergeant Martin,” said Antonopoulos to the senior PJ, “Can you position our troops for one kick-ass ambush?”

  “Abso-damn-lutely sir,” said Martin with a grin as he gathered their rag tag cluster of troops and deployed them to take out what ever came down the road.

  “Alright, Blevins,” said Antonopoulos, “Authenticate.”

  “Haven One authenticates Bravo Sierra,” said Blevins followed by silence while he listened to the calling station.

  “Sir, they claim to be a Special Ops team out of Fairchild,” said Blevins after listening to the reply. “They authenticate properly and sir, they’re mobile! They want a location so they can rendezvous with us.”

  “Stall them,” said Antonopoulos. “Martin, get over here.”

  “Where are they?” asked Major Kong as Sergeant Martin joined the group.

  “They say they have been driving down from where they found our P-19,” said Blevins. “They’re driving slow, down South Mullinix Road, pausing to call for us on the radio. They figured we couldn’t get far on foot.”

  “Sir,” said Major Kong, “They know a lot about us, but it’s possible they could piece that together from what they saw at the attack and the fact that there aren’t many abandoned P19’s in the woods.”

  “Granted, Major,” said Antonopoulos, “but we have several things on our side. It’s now dark. If they really are on wheels like they say, we will be able to spot them.

  “Martin, if they are on foot, how likely will we be able to spot them and extract before they get here?”

  “Sir,” said Martin after a moment’s thought. “If I set up an overwatch on the road and another of my guys work toward the east, they would have to be pretty good to get by us.”

  “We will also be in place so even if they are trying to infiltrate on foot, we will likely spot them in time to fade. Frankly we are short of options. We have skirted two bands of Infected this evening. We are going to walk into one sooner or later and then they’ll have us. I am willing to take a chance. What about you?”

  “I’m in,” said Pearson, the copilot.

  “Makes sense to me,” said Major Kong, “All the same, I’ll have my shotgun pointed at their scraggy asses until I’m sure.”

  “You do that, Major,” said Antonopoulos, “Martin, get in position.”

  “Ok, Blevins,” said Antonopoulos, “have them come down South Dover Road. Ask them which way they are coming. If they are telling the truth, we will see them long before they see us. Tell them that we will leave an ‘X’ in the road with deadfall where we want them to stop. They are to stop as soon as they see it. We will use that bend between the two ponds where the road makes a hairpin turn which should channel anything bad guys might try. Then one and only one member of their team is to come forward. Clear?”

  “Yes sir,” said Blevins, relaying the instructions.

  “They figure to be here in fifteen minutes sir,” said Blevins anxiously. “They say they will come slow, with the lights on and they will use the code word ‘Thunder’.”

  “Martin,” said Antonopoulos, “cover the road as you suggested, leave off the airman to the east. If we have to move fast, I only want to have to make up one pickup, not two.”

  “Yes sir!” said Martin as he took off for the brush. In a few seconds, he was invisible.

  “Bring them on in, Blevins,” said Antonopoulos.

  July 10th, Friday, 9:44 pm PDT

  West edge of the Turnbull Wildlife Refuge near Mock Wa.

  Jeremy Price, who commanded the closest thing that Fairc
hild had to a Special Ops team, was riding in the passenger seat of the semi-tractor trailer rig they had captured from the mercenaries who were locally jamming communications. Tech Sergeant Raleigh Winters, his sniper, was driving as he had driven a grain truck on his family’s farm in Eastern Montana.

  “Cruising these backroads with the lights on is scaring the crap out of me,” said Winters to no one in particular.

  “Would you like to drive with the lights off?” said Master Sergeant Filby, the largest man in the patrol and as such relegated to the bunk since he took up so much space anywhere else.

  “And get shot by our own guys?” said Winters. “No way!”

  “Hold it down you guys,” said Jeremy, “and keep an eye out. I don’t want to drive past the General. That wouldn’t look good on my OER.”

  “That looks like the ‘X’ you said to look out for,” said Winters who began slowing down.

  “Everybody stay in the rig,” said Price, “until I wave you out. This is the tricky part.”

  As the truck stopped, Jeremy hopped down to the running board and then to the ground. He had left his M-4 in the cab and was holding both his hands high in the air.

  “Thunder,” said Jeremy.

  “Advance and be recognized,” said Major Kong who had lost every trace of his Texas accent and was all business now.

  “I am glad to see you, Lieutenant,” said Major Kong as Price approached. The look of relief suddenly turned to alarm as a shot rang out from the woods, followed by three short bursts in quick succession. .

  “Infected!” shouted Kong as he ripped off four quick shots into woods. “There are hundreds of them!”

  Price scrambled back toward the truck while drawing his M-9. The back of the shortened trailer containing the generator and jamming hardware flew open and Airman Preston Ireland opened up with the M-60 that was mounted on the deck with Captain Sines, formerly a UH-1 pilot, as his A gunner.

  They fired pretty indiscriminately as it was a target rich environment. This band was left over from those who had attacked Fairchild and as such, many of the Infected were very far along with the disease. Many were injured, some horrifically, but they were all running through the woods.