by Dirk Patton
Scourge
V Plague Book Fourteen
DIRK PATTON
Text Copyright © 2017 by Dirk Patton
Copyright © 2017 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 Voodoo Dog Publishing, LLC
2824 N Power Road
Suite #113-256
Mesa, AZ 85215
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2017
ISBN-13: 978-1542979016
ISBN-10: 1542979013
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
Afterword
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
Other Titles
36: A Novel
The Void: A 36 Novel
Author’s Note
Thank you for purchasing Scourge, Book 14 in the V Plague series. If you haven’t read the first thirteen 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 13. 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 [email protected] 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
2017
What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way
Johnny Cash – Hurt
1
Walking around Pearl Harbor was a bit of a shock to my system. The air was clean and fresh. The tropical day was one of those that the tourism bureau would have endlessly photographed and touted when there were people in the world who could take a vacation to paradise. True to military norms, the lawns were neatly mown, the streets and sidewalks free of litter. And the people.
The people were smiling and wearing clean uniforms. Sure, many of the men were sporting neatly trimmed facial hair, which outside of the Special Operations community was unheard of, but Hawaii was dealing with shortages of personal hygiene products. Other than the rare straight razor, which was now worth its weight in gold, the people of the islands were reduced to electric trimmers. They couldn’t get a smooth shave with one of those, so closely cropped beards were the order of the day.
After the reception at Hickam Field, we’d been given a ride to a large building designated as the Visiting Officer Quarters. It looked more like a Civil War era plantation home than a military structure. Two stories with soaring columns and a gleaming white coat of paint, it was nestled amongst thick stands of palm trees and birds of paradise. A broad, green lawn surrounded it on three sides and all in all, it was nice as hell.
Before we’d gone inside, Dog had to thoroughly explore every clump of bushes, managing to leave his mark on each before moving on. I lost sight of him for a few minutes when he wandered around the side of the building, but he came running when I whistled. With a stick in his mouth, which he promptly rammed into my leg as he dashed up.
“Where the hell did you find that?” I asked him, surprised that the Navy had allowed any landscaping debris to remain in place.
He dropped it on my feet before running ten yards away and stopping, giving me an expectant look. Smiling, I picked it up and heaved it as far as I could across the grass. Taking off like a shot, he snatched it off the ground and raced back to where Rachel and I were standing. For five minutes, I kept throwing the stick until there was a muted cough from behind. I turned to find a Senior Chief Petty Officer standing a discreet distance away.
“Excuse me, sir,” the man said, holding a salute until I returned it. “I’m Senior Chief Wilkins. Welcome to the VOQ. I’ll be getting you settled in your quarters, when you’re ready.”
“We’re ready, Senior Chief,” I said, calling Dog to my side.
He glanced down briefly before looking back up at me.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “Working K9s aren’t allowed in the VOQ.”
“Then point me at a barracks,” I said, frowning. “He goes where I go.”
He looked at me for a beat before smiling and shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize he was a therapy dog. Naturally he can stay with you. That’s not a violation of the regulation.”
I grinned, glad to be reminded that non-commissioned officers always find a way to make things work. Inside, we were shown to an expansive suite on the first floor with a rubbed mahogany door. Four large gold stars decorated it and I paused, shooting an inquisitive look at the Senior Chief.
“Last used by General Carrol, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, just before the attacks,” he explained. “Haven’t gotten around to removing the stars. With Admiral Packard’s compliments.”
We stepped through the door when he opened it, Rachel and I pausing as another bit of shock rolled over us. The accommodations would have been right at home in any five-star resort, and after how we’d been living for months, it was an assault on the
senses. The Senior Chief spent a minute giving us the nickel tour, Rachel sighing in delight when she saw a massive, jetted tub in the bathroom.
“I’d kill for a razor to shave my legs,” she mumbled.
Smiling, Wilkins stepped to a cabinet and opened the door with a flourish. One of the shelves was well stocked with disposable razors and various other items. I looked at him and nodded my thanks, impressed that no one had looted the supplies. Those razors would have been worth a small fortune on the black market.
At that point, he handed me a piece of paper and left us alone. Dog had already claimed the foot of the bed, stretched out on the pristine white covers, watching us closely.
“What’s that?” Rachel asked, stepping beside me to read over my shoulder.
“I’ve got an appointment with a doctor in an hour,” I said, being reminded just how damn efficient the military can be at times.
“Good!” she said. “I’m going with you. Let’s get cleaned up, first. You smell horrible!”
Grumbling, I stripped down and stepped into the shower while Rachel began filling the tub. Shaving my head and face with all the new bumps and bruises was an adventure in patience, but I eventually got it done without shedding too much blood. When I got out, Rachel was stretched the length of the tub, one leg propped on the side as she shaved.
“You okay?” she asked, looking up with the blade poised over her knee.
“Fine,” I said, turning to the sink to brush my teeth.
“Don’t seem fine.”
“Same feeling I used to get when I’d come back from an extended operation,” I said after spitting out a mouthful of paste. “Normality is strange. A little bit disconcerting. We’ve been running and fighting for months. Dirty, wet and cold. Now, here we are, showering and shaving in comfort and safety. Just takes a while to adjust. Don’t you feel it?”
Rachel lowered the leg she’d been working on into the water and raised the other. For a moment, she seemed to be staring at her foot.
“Yes,” she finally said. “But I’m not going to let that spoil this wonderful bath.”
I thought about that for a minute as I rinsed my mouth and rubbed some lotion into my scalp. Her attitude was fine, in principle, but I’d never been able to so easily transition from a war zone to home. Not that I was going to start having flashbacks, but I could understand how some guys did. In a matter of hours, I’d gone from combat to a luxury resort where no one was trying to kill me.
Walking out of the bathroom, I scratched Dog’s ears as I passed the bed. On the far side of the room was a set of double doors and I pulled them open. The Senior Chief had been thorough, stocking the large closet with several uniforms in different sizes, as well as an assortment of civilian clothing for Rachel.
I dressed in a crisply ironed Army Combat Uniform, called ACU, that must have come from Schofield Barracks, as I doubted the Navy stocked Army uniforms. Rank insignia and appropriate patches were already in place. All that was missing was a name tape. Once dressed, I found a pair of new boots in the correct size and worked them onto my feet. Standing, I checked my look in the mirror as a hair dryer whined to life in the bathroom.
I hadn’t put the sweat soaked patch back on, and my eye looked like hell. There had been a lot of damage to the soft tissue surrounding it. I briefly considered slipping it on, but figured the doc would give me one that hadn’t once been a teenage girl’s bra.
Glancing at the pile of weapons I’d shed earlier, I started to reach for the rifle, then stopped myself. I was no longer in a combat zone. There weren’t any infected, or Russians, or militia that was going to attack. Someone very senior to me would probably frown if I wandered around the base with several weapons strapped to my body. But I wasn’t born yesterday, so I slipped a pistol into a cargo pocket, a couple of loaded magazines into another, and strapped a Ka-Bar knife to my belt, beneath the ACU blouse. Another check in the mirror and I could tell I was armed, but only because I knew where to look.
Digging through my blood and mud stained gear, I found a partial pack of mostly crushed cigarettes and the USMC logo Zippo I’d taken off the Russian I’d killed at Offutt Air Force Base. A large sliding glass door opened onto a patio, or I guess a lanai since I was in Hawaii, and I stepped outside with Dog at my heels.
Settling my beret onto my freshly shaved head, I dropped into a chair and lit a cigarette. The lanai was surrounded by a thick hedge of tropical vegetation, and it took Dog all of three seconds to flush out a small lizard. It was incredibly fast and agile, easily escaping his attempt to catch it, but now the hunt was on. I sat there smoking, watching him thrust his entire head into the bushes as he searched for the tiny creature.
Sitting there, I let my mind drift. I wasn’t trying to ponder anything, but soon I was imagining myself creeping into Barinov’s home in the middle of the night. Pictured his blood on my hands so vividly after I imagined killing him that I glanced down to see if they were stained. Turning in the chair, I looked through the glass at the well-appointed suite I’d been given. Thought about how Barinov had lived this well, probably better, while billions of people had died horribly. While my wife suffered.
I’d had a moment of weakness on the flight from Nevada. Had allowed myself to consider letting it go. Abandoning my desire for vengeance and settling down with Rachel to do whatever it was we’d do for the rest of our lives. But that was an exhausted body and a fatigued mind. I’d gotten a few hours of sleep on the plane, and now a hot shower. I was still tired, but nothing like I’d been. Now, I reaffirmed to myself that I couldn’t rest, couldn’t put the past fully behind me until I’d taken the life of the man who was responsible for the unimaginable misery that had befallen the world.
“Got another one of those?”
I turned in surprise, having failed to notice when Rachel opened the door and stepped out onto the patio. When I saw her, I couldn’t help but stare. She was scrubbed clean. Her hair, washed and styled, tumbled across her shoulders and down her back. She was wearing a bright yellow sun dress that left her shoulders bare and ended a couple of inches above her knees. The color contrasted perfectly with her skin, which still glowed from the hot bath. After several long seconds, she blushed slightly and looked away.
“Stop,” she said, an embarrassed smile on her face.
“You’re stunning,” I said.
“You’re just used to seeing me with greasy hair, streaked with mud and blood,” she said.
I might have made her self-conscious, but when she raised her eyes I could see a sparkle of pleasure from my compliment.
“We’d better go,” she said, still smiling as she reached for my hand. “But he should stay here.”
I turned and looked at Dog. He was still obsessed with finding the lizard, completely ignoring us. My first inclination was to disagree with her, but then I was going to the hospital to see a doctor. Dog would almost certainly not be welcome in that environment. Calling him inside, I reluctantly left him sitting in the middle of the floor, giving me an accusing look for abandoning him. Can’t say it didn’t make me feel a little like a heel. We stopped at the Senior Chief’s desk on the way out.
“How do I get to the hospital?” I asked.
“Hummer in the parking lot with a Seaman behind the wheel, sir,” he said, smiling. “He’s at your disposal. Just tell him where you want to go.”
“Thank you, Senior Chief. And by the way, the dog is in my quarters. Might not want to let anyone go in without one of us.”
“Yes, sir. I hear those therapy dogs can be quite protective. And sir,” he said, stopping me before I could turn away. “You might want this.”
He held out a strip of fabric with Velcro backing. My last name was on the face.
“Sorry it wasn’t ready when you dressed.”
I took it from him and pressed it in place on the right side of my chest, nodding my thanks.
“Thank you for the clothes,” Rachel said. “How did you guess my size so well?”
/> The man grinned and pointed at a dark TV screen on the side of his desk.
“Base TV broadcasted your arrival at Hickam,” he explained. “I already knew you were coming here, and I know the Admiral’s sizes. Waited until I saw each of you standing next to him, and that gave me a good idea.”
“But where did you get dresses?” Rachel persisted.
“You’re about the same size as my wife,” the man grinned. “When I saw you, I called her and she ran over with some of her clothes for you.”
He shrugged like it wasn’t any big deal.
“Thank her for me.” Rachel reached out and touched his arm. “It’s really nice to feel like a girl again, instead of a soldier.”
Several comments came to mind, but I wisely kept my mouth shut. Taking Rachel’s hand, I turned to leave, but the Senior Chief stopped me again.
“Major, Admiral Packard has requested that you join him for dinner this evening in his quarters. Nineteen hundred hours, sir. Combat uniform is acceptable.”
“And the lady?” I asked.
“Sorry, sir. Just you.”
“Thanks, Senior Chief,” I said.
This time, Rachel and I were able to exit the building. We found the vehicle detailed for us in the parking lot, a young kid with an acne ravaged face waiting behind the wheel. I saw his eyes widen when he got a look at Rachel, but he covered his admiration quickly and leapt out to open the rear door for us.
“Where to, sir?” he asked as he studiously avoided looking at the amount of leg Rachel’s dress exposed as she climbed into the Humvee.
“Hospital,” I said, suppressing a grin and following Rachel into the back seat.
He firmly closed the door behind me, then jumped behind the wheel. As he drove, I kept seeing him stealing glances at me in the rearview mirror.
“Something on your mind, Seaman?” I asked, earning a surprised look.
“No, sir. Sorry, sir,” he said quickly, gluing his eyes to the windshield.
“Go ahead,” I said after a moment.
