V Plague (Book 16): Brimstone

by Dirk Patton

  “We gettin’ in, sir?” Wilcox asked when Joe reached his location.

  “Moss is motivated and he’s a goddamn wizard with explosives, so probably.”

  “Probably?”

  “Worried, Gunny?” Joe asked with a grin.

  “About a demo guy that only has three fingers on one hand? Not at all, sir.”

  Joe chuckled but didn’t say anything. He and Wilcox both knew Moss had lost two fingers on his left hand in a car accident. But they were part of only a small handful that knew the truth. Moss, without having to say a word, used his injury to reinforce the necessity for caution with other Marines who were still new to the world of high explosives. Everyone assumed he’d lost them while working and he’d never felt the need to correct their error.

  It was about fifteen minutes later when Moss called a warning over the radio. The Marines moved up the stairwell to cluster near the door, ignoring the pounding from the females who were still trying to get in. Gunny Wilcox quickly made sure each man was wearing hearing protection to shield their ears from the overpressure wave of the C-4, then gave Moss the all clear.

  A few seconds later, there were four hard thumps the men could feel in the concrete floor. Dust and smoke slowly drifted up the stairwell, but Joe didn’t wait for it to clear. Hurrying down, he arrived at the same time as Moss, who had sheltered in the stairwell one level down.

  “Fuck me,” Joe breathed when he saw the door was still in place.

  “No worries, sir,” Moss said, already examining the results of his work with the flashlight. “Hinges are cut. Just need some muscle.”

  Pulling a pry bar from a specialized sheath on his back, he jammed it into a narrow seam on the hinge side of the door and applied pressure for several moments before stepping back.

  “Felt it move,” he said, changing his grip and preparing to start pushing again.

  Stepping next to him, Joe added his strength. For a moment, nothing happened, then there was a faint groan from the door. Both men grunted as they redoubled their efforts, then the door began to tilt out of its frame in slow motion.

  “Back!” Moss shouted, following his own advice.

  He and Joe jumped clear as gravity took over and the heavy slab of steel crashed to the floor of the landing. The impact was hard and kicked up more dust, most of it from the concrete that was pulverized under the door’s immense weight.

  Joe and Moss rushed forward, standing on the slab and aiming into the dark opening. The dirty air made it difficult to see, the dust reflecting the beams of their IR lights and creating a bright, floating cloud in their night vision. There was a soft scuff of a boot from behind as the team formed up around them, then they carefully made entry. Passing through the doorway, Joe was surprised when the occupancy sensors activated banks of overhead lights.

  “Spread out and stay sharp,” Joe mumbled to the team. “Gunny, two men on the door.”

  The Marines immediately followed his orders. Raising the NVGs off his face, he looked around at a cavernous area. A variety of labs were walled off, but each had large glass windows and it was easy to determine there were no infected hiding inside.

  As the team broke up into groups of two and began clearing the space, Joe and Gunny Wilcox moved to a testing area and stood staring at a long rack bolted to the concrete wall. Hanging from it were twenty combat exoskeletons that had been in the field trial testing phase when the world ended. Each was connected to a charging station by a long umbilical.

  “Where you think the power’s comin’ from?” Wilcox asked, gesturing at the power controller.

  “Don’t know and don’t have time to look,” Joe said, walking over and running his hand over one of the pieces of equipment.

  These were the fruit of the TALOS project, or Tactical Assault Light Operator Suit. Enhanced body armor that covered much of the wearer’s body had been combined with a powered exoskeleton. The goal had been to outfit special operations forces with a suit that not only provided greatly improved protection in combat, but added the ability to carry heavy loads and run faster for longer distances with the assistance of the mechanicals. And do all this while reducing fatigue on the soldier.

  “They weren’t kidding in the briefing,” Wilcox breathed.

  “Let’s find out,” Joe said.

  Disconnecting the charging cable, he lifted a suit off the rack, grunting under its weight. While he did this, the Gunny stripped off all his gear until he was only wearing a uniform and boots. With Joe’s help, he worked his way into the suit, making several mistakes in the process that required them to start over. But they got it done, Wilcox looking around as the rest of the team gathered to watch.

  The suit provided ballistic protection for all vital areas of his body, with a helmet that self-molded to the shape of his head and included a set of next generation night vision goggles. Titanium braces surrounded his limbs, hinged at his knees, hips, shoulders and elbows. It took some effort for Joe to figure out how to adjust them to fit the Gunny’s body. Once he did, the exoskeleton moved freely.

  “Heavy as hell,” Wilcox said, taking an experimental step.

  Joe reached out, opened a shielded door on the suit’s chest and pressed a button. There was a faint whine of electric motors, then Wilcox seemed to stand taller as a smile spread across his face.

  “Better?” Joe asked.

  “Holy shit, sir. Doesn’t feel like nothin’, now.”

  “Try it.”

  The Gunny took a tentative step, then another. His smile growing bigger, he began walking, quickly breaking into a trot. Jogging around the large space, the rest of the team watched in amazement.

  “Okay, sir, this is the shit!” he exclaimed, coming to a stop in front of Joe.

  “Try lifting something.”

  Wilcox looked around for a moment, then walked over to a tall tool chest. Grasping the handles, he smoothly lifted it a foot into the air. A murmur rippled through the Marines as he raised it even higher before gently depositing it back onto the floor.

  “No effort,” he said, shaking his head in amazement. “Suit’s doin’ all the work. Soon as it feels me start movin’ in a certain direction, it takes over.”

  “Okay,” Joe said, looking around at his team. “Everyone suit up. Lopez, find the computers that can access these things. Rest of you, we’re taking all of them and the charging unit. Going to have to fight our way through the infected, but I think it’s going to be a little easier on the way out than it was coming in.”

  35

  I looked back at the man whose throat I’d pressed the knife against.

  “Remember what I told you would happen if you lied to me?” I asked in a calm voice.

  The men had been amazingly sincere. In fact, I’d been close to buying into their claim that they had no idea what I was talking about. He frowned as he searched his memory, then his eyes flew wide open.

  Lunging forward, I slashed with the long blade, nearly decapitating the bastard. Hot blood pulsed from the wound, coating my arm as I shoved his corpse aside and moved forward. The other four froze for a beat, then the guy with the armload of wine bottles let them crash to the floor and backpedaled, tearing at his shirt.

  Spinning around a Foster’s display, I buried the blade to the hilt in his chest as he finally pulled a Russian pistol out of his waistband. The same gun that had been taken while I was unconscious in the Range Rover. It fell from his nerveless fingers, clattering on the floor as I wrenched the knife from his body and twisted.

  I had enough time to raise an arm and block a thrown bottle, then charged in to where two of the survivors were seeking refuge behind the counter. Before I leapt in and hacked them to pieces, a shout from my left drew my attention.

  One of the men who’d been farthest away from me was bringing my rifle up from behind a low stack of liquor boxes. He didn’t have it on target yet and his finger wasn’t on the trigger. Charging directly at him, I hurdled the cases of booze and arrived in time to grab the barre
l near the muzzle and shove it safely to the side an instant before the weapon fired.

  Using momentum, I stabbed into his body, beneath a raised arm. The fight immediately went out of him and I pulled the blade free and jerked the rifle from his hands. Whipping around, I brought it up and shot one of the last two men who was making a break for the back door. His head exploded, painting the wall with blood and brains, the final man catching a large amount of splatter on the side of his face.

  I pulled the trigger two more times, the rounds tearing into the floor near his feet and bringing him to a hard stop. His eyes cut to the pistol, which was lying in a spreading pool of blood.

  “Try it and I’ll blow your knee off,” I growled.

  He turned his head slowly in my direction, fear induced sweat dripping into his eyes and making him blink rapidly.

  “Where is she?” I asked.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  “I’m only asking one more time,” I said quietly. “Better find your voice before I start carving off body parts. Now… Where. Is. She?”

  “Out… out… outside,” he stammered. “Boot of my car.”

  “She alive?”

  His head bobbed up and down vigorously.

  “Why’d you take her?” I asked, feeling a little foolish that I hadn’t thought to check the trunks of their vehicles.

  He stared back at me, obviously not wanting to answer.

  “WHY?” I shouted, making him jump in fright.

  “Denny,” he said, pointing at the first man I’d killed. “He don’t like darkies. Abos. One of ‘em took his job on a road crew.”

  I took a deep breath and nearly pulled the trigger.

  “So, you were gonna take it out on a little girl?”

  “NO! Nothin’ like that, mister. Honest!”

  I stared at him, knowing he was lying.

  “Why’d you leave me alive when you took my weapons?”

  “All the blood, thought you was dead,” he said.

  I nodded after a long pause, then tilted my head at the back.

  “Let’s go get her. If you try to run, or she’s not there, or if she’s hurt…”

  “She’s good,” he said, holding his hands up. “A little banged up from the accident, but she’s good. I swear!”

  “Move,” I said. “Nice and slow. And keep your fuckin’ hands where I can see them.”

  “How’d you know?” he asked, still not moving.

  Holding the rifle on him with one hand, I knelt and pulled a closed switchblade out of the pocket of one of the dead men. It was so long that it would only go in for half its length, leaving the rest exposed. Standing, I held it in front of me briefly.

  “This dumb motherfucker took her knife,” I said, slipping it into my pocket. “Now, last time. Take me to her.”

  He didn’t have anything else to say. Turning, he moved into the storage area, then to the back door. I saw the briefest of hesitations and recognized the thought going through his head. The same thought I would have had if the situation were reversed.

  “Stop!” I barked before he could touch the exterior door.

  Slinging the rifle, I brought the bloody knife out, stepped forward and grabbed his collar as I pressed the tip of the blade into his lower back.

  “Nice and easy,” I said. “I can shove this in to the hilt in a heartbeat if you try something.”

  “You’re gonna kill me anyways,” he said, trying to sound defiant.

  “Not if you don’t give me a reason.”

  He thought about that for a second, then decided he wanted to believe me. Moving forward, I kept a tight grip on his shirt, the blade needing maybe a half pound of pressure to pierce his flesh.

  Stepping outside, rain pelted my face and the wind carried the distant scream of a hunting female to me. I listened carefully as we advanced to the sedan, hearing an even fainter scream a few seconds later. They were somewhere to the north and weren’t a problem. At the moment. Easing to the back of the car, the man started to reach for the release. Stopping him with a sharp jerk on his collar, I pulled him away from the trunk.

  “Mavis! You in there?”

  “JOHN! I’m here! Get me out!”

  Her voice, coming through the car’s sheet metal, was muffled, but there was no doubt it was her.

  “Hang on,” I called back. “Gotta find the keys.”

  “It’s not lock… unnnnnnn…”

  The man went stiff when all twelve inches of the Russian blade sliced into his body. I didn’t stop pushing until the hilt was tight against the back of his shirt.

  “Youuuu…” he gasped, unable to finish the sentence.

  “Lied,” I whispered in his ear.

  Pulling the blade free, I grabbed his hair and jerked his head back. Laying it over his carotid artery, I paused.

  “You fuck with little girls, you die like a pig,” I hissed in his ear, then drew the razor-sharp edge across his throat.

  Twin geysers of blood fountained and I shoved him away. He took one stumbling step before toppling to the pavement and going still. Blood quickly tinted the pools of rainwater a dark red. Ignoring the corpse, I rushed to the car and ripped the trunk lid open.

  “What took you so long?” Mavis asked, leaping into my arms.

  36

  I breathed a sigh of relief as Mavis did her best to strangle me. I held her for a few moments, then leaned away to look her over.

  “You hurt?” I asked, frowning at a purplish bruise on her cheek. “What happened?”

  “One of the bastards backhanded me. Said it was my fault he lost his house. What was he talking about?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “He was wrong.”

  I put her on her feet, then fished the knife out of my pocket and held it out. She smiled and took it from my hand, checking the operation before hiding it away in her clothing.

  “I thought you were dead. Tried to wake you up after the crash, but you were just limp.”

  “Hit my head,” I said. “Good thing the guys that took you didn’t check for a pulse. They thought I was dead, too.”

  “Where’s the rest?” she asked, looking at the body lying on the pavement.

  “They won’t be bothering us,” I said.

  She stood there, looking at me with her head tilted to the side and her small fists on her hips. Is there a class on how to stare a man down that women go to as soon as they’re born, or is it just genetic?

  “I’m not a child,” she said. “Don’t hide things from me. You killed them, didn’t you?”

  I looked away and shrugged, not comfortable talking about the things I do with a little girl. Though, in many ways, she was already more mature than a lot of full grown women I’d met.

  “Yes,” I finally said, figuring she deserved the truth.

  “Good!”

  “Not always good,” I said. “Killing someone isn’t insignificant. Sometimes it’s what you have to do, but…”

  “But what?” she asked.

  Unprepared for this conversation, I shook my head and moved away to see if the keys were in either of the vehicles the men had been driving. Mavis stayed where she was, watching me. When I didn’t find what I was looking for, I went to the man I’d killed in the alley and without thinking, rolled him onto his back to check his pockets.

  The head flopped as the corpse rolled over, exposing the deep cut in its throat. Mavis gasped softly when she saw the bloody wound and I kicked myself for not having been a little more sensitive. Despite her revulsion, she didn’t turn away. I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. But it was the world she was living in, now.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled as I patted him down. No keys.

  Standing, I blew out a big breath of frustration. I needed to check the bodies in the liquor store, but wasn’t enthused about taking Mavis with me. At the same time, I wasn’t about to let her out of my sight. I’d already lost her once and had gotten very lucky. No w
ay was I going to roll the dice and leave her standing alone in the open.

  “The others are in that store,” I said, nodding at the open door. “I need to find the keys, so we’re going inside. Promise me you’ll stay in the storage area while I’m looking.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re like this one. Or worse,” I said.

  After another look at the corpse and a long pause, she nodded. Taking her hand, I led her inside, closing the exterior door behind us.

  “Okay, stay put.”

  I waited for her to nod again, then pushed through into the front. As usual, when searching for something it’s never in the first place you look. Or even the second. I found a set of keys on each of the last two bodies I checked. As I straightened, there was the scuff of a shoe from behind.

  Whirling and bringing the rifle up, I sighed when I saw Mavis standing just inside the swinging doors.

  “Why does it smell like they crapped their pants?”

  “Damn it!” I muttered, striding to where she stood.

  I was reaching for her arm to turn her around and rush her through the door when her eyes shifted and she caught her breath. Looking over my shoulder, I froze at the sight of a pair of females standing directly in front of the store’s plate glass window. Both seemed to be trying to see inside, but weren’t acting like they’d spotted us.

  “Mavis, don’t move,” I said softly.

  She didn’t say a word and after a moment I felt her small hand slip into mine and grip it tightly. I squeezed back, but didn’t take my attention off the females. Then I remembered the back door. The men had forced it open, damaging it and the jamb so that it would no longer lock. It was closed at the moment, but would open easily at the slightest tug on the knob. I had never seen a female pull a door open, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still worried.

  “You’ve got keys, let’s slip out the back,” Mavis whispered.

  “If we move, they’ll see us and that glass isn’t very sturdy. They’ll break through in a few seconds and if there’s more in the alley…”