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

by Rounds, Mark

  July 15th, Wednesday, 11:24 am PDT

  Headquarters Building, Fairchild AFB, WA

  Colonel Phillips looked over Stutesman’s patrol. Their POL supply limited the number of vehicles as he still wanted to retain a reserve of fuel. They had six Humvees, five mounting automatic weapons and the last one mounted an M-19 grenade launcher, courtesy of a previous C-17 flight. The remaining airmen in her flight were mounted on the jamming vehicle that Lieutenant Price’s team had brought in along with some technicians to make up the rest of her team

  “Are you ready, Captain?” asked Phillips.

  “As ready as we can be,” said Stutesman, her dog Candy at her side.

  “Good hunting then,” said Phillips reaching out his hand to shake Stutesman’s.

  “Thanks sir,” said Stutesman.

  Turning from her commander, Jen nodded at her Flight Sergeant riding in the trailer of the semi who spoke momentarily into his radio. Engines started and Stutesman mounted her Humvee. Within minutes, the column exited the front gate. Inside the semi, Senior Airman Mario Hernandez, one of the special ops team that had recovered the trailer in which he was riding, was sitting in front of another of his hand built contraptions. This one was a cell phone receiver. They had known for some time that there were watchers outside the gate that reported to someone every time a vehicle left the base. They had made several sweeps of the local area and instituted significant cell phone jamming when anything left the area and other random times. This time they wanted to be seen and reported.

  “We’ve got the generator and jammer idling,” said Finkbiner, who as the Flight Sergeant was personally overseeing this important step. “Give us the word, and we’ll turn up the volume. Are you sure that thing is working?”

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” said Hernandez, whose reputation as an electronics genius had risen dramatically after his previous device helped them locate the jamming truck. “I tested this against every type of cell phone I could find on base. It captured the signal of all of them and jammed all frequencies”

  “How are you going to know if the right message is sent?” asked Finkbiner as he stared uncertainly at the mass of wiring attached to a laptop computer.

  “Man, eavesdropping on cell phone calls is easy,” said Hernandez. “Heck, they showed how to do it on 60 Minutes a couple years back. Texting takes a bit more work, but I can see them all just fine. There has been almost no cell phone traffic for a few weeks now. I won’t have many calls to check, and all I need is confirmation about the convoy. Piece of cake!”

  “But what I don’t get is ...” began Finkbiner but Hernandez motioned for quiet as he put his other hand to the keyboard.

  “This is the call we are waiting for,” said Hernandez excitedly. “I am recording now. Let them chat a bit.”

  Finkbiner nodded, his hand on the throttle to the generator. Hernandez gave him the thumbs up signal and Finkbiner brought up the rpm’s on the diesel. When the tach reached the required level, he nodded at Hernandez who closed a switch in front of him.

  “That should end the conversation,” said Hernandez with a smile. “I bet my dad wishes he had one of these things! No one can use a cell phone or a radio for miles!”

  July 15th, Wednesday, 12:04 pm PDT

  Headquarters Building, Joint Base Fort Lewis-McChord, Tacoma WA

  “You best make it sound good,” said Captain Lassiter as he nodded at former Lieutenant Hanson as he was holding the phone. “This time I want you to hang on as long as you can.”

  “Why would …” began Hanson but Lassiter cut him off.

  “The reason why does not concern you,” said Lassiter. “You’re here on borrowed time. If you want leniency in your upcoming Court Martial, just do it the way I say.”

  Hanson nodded and keyed in the number. The phone’s receiver was modified with a split lead so Lassiter and a technician could both listen in on the conversation. Every word was also digitally recorded.

  “This is Hanson, I have new news.”

  “What is it?” asked a male though obviously scrambled voice on the phone.

  “Antonopoulos is dead,” said Hanson following the script that Lassiter had cooked up.

  “Are you sure?” asked the voice incredulously.

  “I saw them remove the body from the headquarters building,” said Hanson.

  “What happened?” asked the voice.

  “Johnson has supporters,” said Hanson. “There was an attempted jail break to get him out of the stockade and a simultaneous hit on Antonopoulos. The jail break failed but the hit was successful.”

  “How come we haven’t heard of this?” asked the voice.

  “Your other informants,” said Hanson, “weren’t sitting in the headquarters building trying to get Antonopoulos’s signature. I was. It happened right in front of me not ten minutes ago. I called as soon as I could get out of sight.”

  “Ok,” said the voice a little more subdued. “You did good. We’ll be in touch at the usual time.”

  Lassiter motioned for him to keep it going.

  “Don’t you want hear about how many of them there were or who …” began Hanson but the voice cut him off.

  “Look Hanson,” said the voice. “You know we have to keep these short. It could be that you’re excited but you know the rules. Keep this shit up and you’ll never hear from Maria again!”

  Before Hanson could respond, the connection was broken. Lassiter looked up at the tech who gave him a big thumb’s up.

  “OK Hanson,” said Lassiter. “Head back to your cell. I think this went ok.”

  Hanson nodded and was about to say something but one stern look from Lassiter and he dropped his gaze and left in the custody of two MP’s. As soon as the door closed, Lassiter’s focus went to the technician.

  “What did you get?” asked Lassiter.

  “It’s as good a fix as we could ask for,” said the technician. “The transmission activated three sensors and we were able to triangulate on the location. We have it down to a couple of meters. It also checks out with previous transmissions. Apparently, they don’t move around much.”

  “Where is it?” asked Lassiter.

  “About twelve kilometers off post to the east,” said the technician. ‘The signal emanates from the retail complex where Major Eveleth set up the sensors. Apparently, they have taken up residence in a JC Penney’s store.”

  “Shoot this data over to General Bossell ASAP,” said Lassiter. “I’ll be headed over to his office as soon as I’m done here. I think we can get the op up and in place tonight!”

  Chapter 13

  July 15th, Wednesday, 3:12 pm PDT

  The Providence Medical Research Center, Spokane WA

  “What do you mean?” said Macklin as he shook his head at Bob Strickland, “that the results are inconclusive?”

  “The blood test does show a significant reduction in the infection,” said Bob, “and the reduction seems to be accelerating, but he’s not clean yet. In a perfect world, I’d run more trials with maybe twenty …”

  “OK!” shouted Macklin effectively silencing Bob. “I get it. When will you have more serum?”

  “I was somewhat incapacitated this afternoon,” said Bob dissembling,” but things are back on track. I should have another ten doses by tomorrow noon.”

  “See that you do!” said an impatient Macklin. “But you better not be trying to pull a fast one on me, because it will not go well if you do. Now get out of my sight!”

  After Macklin left, Bob sat on a stool in the lab in a cold sweat. He was used to university politics and grandstanding a bit when it suited his purpose, but this was on a whole different plane. The stakes he was playing for were his life and those of all the folks he had co-oped.

  In an office just a few doors down, Macklin slumped into a leather office chair. He was exhausted and running on nerves. Little Bear’s visit has scared him and he had moved more guards to the Medical Center and posted them near the office wing. He was ne
aring the end of his endurance. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, Carlos burst into the room.

  “We just got part of a phone call from our watcher near Fairchild,” said Carlos who was for once agitated by events. “A column has moved out of the front gate. Then all transmissions were shut down by some form of intense jamming.”

  “Shit,” said Macklin. “How big is the column?”

  “There are at least ten vehicles,” said Carlos. “Our watcher was pretty excited on the phone. Then the jamming shut down everything.”

  “What’s our head count here?” asked Macklin, though he knew the answer.

  “We have maybe sixty troops in and around this building,” said Carlos. “There are another ten watching the old house. We have maybe fifty more scrounging for gas, food, and other things we need.”

  “Damn it!” said Macklin with more than a little fear in his voice. “Take what you need from our perimeter security and slow them down. Send runners out and recall all the scroungers!”

  “It would likely take all of these dregs,” said Carlos dismissively indicating the troops around him, “and I couldn’t be sure. Maybe we should pull out and take cover on the south hill, with all those big homes and curving streets, it would take more than they have to root us out of there.”

  “And then we would put Strickland’s work back a week or more,” said Macklin with his head in his hands. “Take two squads, if you need them. Leave me Ngengi and the rest. Slow them down if you can but track them and try to ferret out their intentions and send a runner back when you know something. Then try and get back here ahead of them. I am going to talk to Strickland again and see what it would take to move this without a big work stoppage.”

  July 15th, Wednesday, 4:31 pm PDT

  On US Highway 2, just North of Spokane WA International Airport.

  “Why are we stopping?” asked Stutesman. She had walked up to Senior Airman Morton’s lead Humvee and founding him staring through a set of binoculars.

  “I don’t like it Ma’am,” said Morton not taking his eyes off the road ahead. “Do you see that Dodge Neon over there?”

  “The little blue and white one?” asked Stutesman squinting to bring it into focus.

  “Yeah, that’s the one. It’s not on the photo the drone guys got for us,” said Morton pointing, “and look at the dirt on the car.”

  “Must I?” said Jen smiling. “It reminds me of my car and how I haven’t washed it in months.”

  “That’s it exactly,” said Morton. “It’s got hand prints on the back of it, like someone pushed it out into the road.”

  “We could drive around it?” said Stutesman.

  “I think that’s what they want,” said Morton. “I think the Neon is an IED and somebody is sitting close by with a trigger of some sort. It’s probably not a cell phone because we are jamming the hell out of everything. It’s likely something with a real wire.”

  “What’s up kids,” asked Sergeant Finkbiner. “It’s a bit loud in the semi.”

  “Morton thinks that Neo up there is a bomb,” said Stutesman.

  “Good eye Morton,” said Finkbiner smiling. “I have just the thing.”

  Finkbiner whistled piercingly and waved up the Humvee mounting the Mark 19 grenade launcher. While it was making its way to the head of the column, he deployed the two lead fire teams in a rough V around Morton’s vehicle. Then he huddled with his fireteam leaders.

  “Morton, I want you up on the M-60 in your vehicle,” said Finkbiner pointing to the turret ring. “And I want the rest of you to focus outward. I figure two or three rounds of 40 mm grenades fired into that suspected IED will set it off. Since we are jamming everything, they have to be close and are probably running a wire that is at most a couple of hundred feet long. Watch the ground. They might just give themselves away. Your job is to make sure they don’t get far. Clear?”

  “Yes Sergeant,” said the fire team leaders almost in unison.

  “Ma’am, “said Finkbiner indicating the Mark 19, “would you care to do the honors?”

  “Thank you, I’ll just watch Sergeant.” said Stutesman.

  “Then I think we should take cover,” said Finkbiner, “in case there is any return fire.”

  Finkbiner nodded at gunner in the turret ring after ducking behind the Humvee. The gunner fired three quick rounds into the Neo. The resulting boom was far louder than the combined explosive power of the three grenades. Almost immediately, Morton began firing short controlled bursts to the north of the highway. The rest of the troops piled on.

  “Cease fire!” shout Finkbiner after a mad minute. “What did you see Morton?”

  “There were two armed hostiles,” said Morton, “maybe one hundred fifty yards to the north of the road who got up and ran after the bomb went off. They got maybe ten steps.”

  “Normally I’d say let’s go check them out,” said Stutesman, “but today, we have a schedule to keep. Mount up and keep a good eye out for other IED’s”

  The column moved slowly down the highway while two hundred yards to the south, near the airport perimeter, Carlos sat quietly in the little hide he had made from a partially collapsed fence and some tree limbs. He was cursing his two recently departed soldiers, who, had they stayed in their hides, would still be alive. He waited until the column was past and around the corner. Then he mounted his bike and rode cross country to the next ambush point.

  July 15th, Wednesday, 5:52 pm PDT

  52 W 5th Avenue, Spokane WA

  “Where the hell are they going this time?” said Johnny Comes At Night as he and Little Bear watched the front of the Providence Medical Research Center from one of the windows in a now an empty preschool that was kitty corner across the street.

  “A bunch left a bit ago to try and stop the Air Force convoy headed this way,” said Little Bear, “but this is a new bunch.”

  “Looks like they’re headed north, not west,” said Johnny.

  “Damn it,” said Little Bear, “I should’ve thought of this. I bet they’re going to bug out. I need to get into that building pronto and slow them down.”

  “Shit,” said Johnny, “it’s still daylight. They’ll spot you for sure before you even get to the parking lot.”

  “Not if you provide a diversion,” said Little Bear with a smile. “They don’t have more than ten guards right now plus that big black dude. I bet there are two watching Strickland and the rest clustered around Macklin.”

  “So?” asked Johnny. “It just takes one to shoot you.”

  “Look,” said Little Bear, “remember when you were just a punk kid at Nezperce High?”

  “Yeah,” said Johnny, “so what?”

  “Don’t tell me,” said Little Bear, “that you never mocked a cop and then took off running.”

  “They weren’t prone to shoot fifteen-year-old kids after their first beer,” said Johnny sarcastically. “Those dickheads are a little jumpy.”

  “They’re all Slash heads,” said Little Bear. “If you pop one on the head with a big enough rock, and flip him off, he won’t have his wits together in time to shoot before you’re back under cover. He may want to go hunt you down and kill you, but I bet his orders are to stay put.”

  “It’s my life you are betting with, pard,” said Johnny dubiously. “Why do you have to go in there anyway?”

  “We can’t let them leave the place until around midnight,” said Little Bear. “That’s when the rescue is supposed to come. I’m going in to mess with their move. Trip people, dump already packed boxes, and the like.”

  “No killing?” said Johnny.

  “I don’t want them scared,” said Little Bear. “They might just shoot everyone and bug out. I want them pissed that things are taking too long. It will distract them. After you throw your rock, just follow the plan. Get your shooters in place and keep them inside. They likely won’t wander around after dark. If they bring in enough vehicles to make the move, you and your warriors are free to open up and take out sen
tries, trucks, or windows to keep them here.”

  “Ammo’s a little low there boss,” said Johnny rubbing his chin. “None of us have more than a hundred rounds.”

  “Hopefully it won’t get that bad,” said Little Bear. “If it does, you guys bug out after you’ve done what you can. We are going to need these soldiers later. Give me ten minutes to get into place and then do your thing.”

  “OK,” said Johnny. “It’s your funeral.”

  “Come on,” said Little Bear, “it’ll be fun.”

  Little Bear faded into the bushes by the building and Johnny lost sight of him almost immediately. He shrugged and then checked his watch. He gave Little Bear ten minutes, and then five more while he screwed up his nerve. He crept to the corner of the playground and selected a couple golf ball sized rocks from the pile near a hastily abandoned construction site behind their hideout. Then he worked his way to the corner of the lot, behind a waist high hedge and stood up in full view.

  “Little Bear was right,” thought Johnny with a chuckle. “There is only one guy on this side of the building and he is trying to look everywhere at once so he isn’t really seeing anything.”

  Johnny picked up his first rock and pitched it hard at the sentry. He misjudged the distance and it hit the combing of the roof near his feet. The sentry followed his natural reaction and looked where the rock hit. That gave Johnny time to throw one more and this time he got the distance right and the rock beaned the sentry right on the top of his head as he was looking down. The blow stunned him for a minute and that’s when Jonny saw Little Bear make his move. It was now or never!

  “Hey you!” shouted Johnny waving and jumping around, when the guard looked up at him he continued. “Yeah you. The one with the big nose and the little dick!”

  The Johnny gave him the finger with both hands and then ducked down behind the hedge and skittered off to the left. It was not a moment too soon for the bushes he just vacated were ventilated with three rounds from the AK that the guard was holding.

  “Too spooked to shoot he said,” thought Johnny as he low crawled around the building. “It’ll be fun he said. Just wait till I catch up with Little Bear!”