by Dirk Patton
I was startled when a brilliant flash of lightning reflected off the glass, momentarily blinding me. A clap of thunder rattled the entire building, quickly followed by another blast that seemed as if it should have shattered the windows. Blinking to clear my eye, I looked at the western facing windows when fat drops of rain began pelting them. It quickly grew in intensity until the noise was nearly deafening.
Looking toward the parts of the city that were still lit, I could see sheets of rain coming down. Was this just a summer thunderstorm, or something more severe? I had no idea what the weather patterns were like in Sydney. Was it a target for tropical storms and hurricanes and this was just the leading edge? I had no idea.
The rain pounded down and I watched with a degree of relief as the fires across the city began to shrink. That was the first good news I’d gotten in a while. At least it didn’t look like they’d be able to spread and force me to go outside before the nerve agent had gone… the rain! It would rinse the city clean of the nerve agent!
Excitement coursed through me at the thought. It didn’t solve the problem of infected roaming around in search of an easy meal, but it made me feel a whole lot better about the risk of coming into contact with some of the chemical. Sure, it was supposed to go inert forty-eight hours after release. But a lot of things don’t happen the way they’re supposed to.
Lightning flashed again. Not one of those quick ones, but the kind that strobes across the sky for several long seconds. And it must have been almost directly overhead as thunder instantly assaulted my ears, shaking the entire building. But I didn’t care. The storm was a gift.
Moving to the windows, I watched wind and rain lash Sydney. Stretching my neck, I peered at the ground far below. Trees were being whipped about, leaves and small branches already becoming airborne missiles. Lightning flashed again and I caught a brief glimpse of a group of females in full stride, running down a bordering street.
Frowning, I stared at the spot, waiting for the next flash. Females don’t break into a sprint unless they’re in pursuit of prey. Was there a survivor down there? More lightning and I saw a small figure racing down the road not far in front of the infected, coming toward the building I was in.
Dashing to the telescope, I raised it as high as it would go, then angled it down for a look at the street. The lightning was nearly constant now and it was easy to spot the females, but took some effort to find the person they were chasing. Getting the optics steadied and focused, I cursed when I spotted their prey. It was a young girl, just a child, and she was running for her life.
Without thinking, I raced to the sofa, stepped into my boots and snatched up the vest and weapons from the table. There wasn’t time to grab the Russian body armor. Not concerned about showing light, I slapped switches as I hurried to the stairs so I wouldn’t have to descend to the ground floor with only the night vision.
Settling the gear on my body as I hurtled down the first flight of steps, I thought about what I was doing. Hoped my assumption about the rain neutralizing the nerve agent was correct. If it wasn’t, I was about to fuck myself. But if I could save the little girl, I was going to do it.
Reaching the ground floor, I blasted through the lobby, lowering the NVGs into place as I moved. Slapping the locking pins aside, I jerked the entrance door open and charged out into the storm.
10
The wind was fiercer than I’d realized while in the protection of the building. It tore at me, trying to push me over as I ran for the corner. The driven rain felt like pellets striking my exposed flesh and I was thankful for the NVGs protecting my eyes.
I rounded the corner without slowing. The rifle was up and ready, but fortunately there weren’t any infected waiting for me with open arms. Ahead, I could see the street where the child had been running, but no movement. That was good, I hoped. Maybe it meant I was going to arrive in time to save her and not that the infected had run her down.
As I pounded across the soggy lawn, I glanced at a row of tropical bushes to the side in a broad, decorative planting bed. It led to the edge of the property and an idea took shape. Something preferable to getting into a running battle with the females.
Approaching the pavement, I pushed into the broad-leafed foliage and came to a stop. For an instant, the sound of torrential rain on plants more suited to a jungle took me back a decade or so, but I ignored the involuntary memory and pushed through the giant fronds of a thickly growing banana tree.
The girl was almost to my position, a group of at least twenty females in hot pursuit. She was running like hell, running for her life, and she was fast. They had closed some distance, but hadn’t caught her. Not yet. I had no doubt she would tire before them, then they’d quickly close in and tear her to ribbons.
Moving the rifle to hang down my back, I made sure the sling was snugged tight and got ready. I was going to have to move fast. And hope mother nature would give me a break. The lightning was flashing about every ten seconds, and that’s all I needed for what I had in mind. But if she decided to drop an extra bolt of light in there, the females would see me and I’d be in a bad spot.
The street was dark, especially with the pouring rain. Without the NVGs, I wouldn’t have been able to track the girl’s progress. But, for once, it seemed like things had swung my way. Dismissing that thought before I jinxed myself, I focused on her. Visualized what I was about to do. Then went into motion an instant after a strobe of lightning lit the area.
Dashing out of the bushes, I took three long strides, stepping directly into the girl’s path. She was running hard, but reacted quickly, trying to dodge around me. I moved with her and she juked hard to the other side, trying to catch me off balance. And she succeeded, but I have long arms.
Reaching out, I clamped down on her arm. Her momentum nearly spun me around, but I caught my balance and pulled her to me. She didn’t scream in fright and go limp, which was what I expected from a child. Instead, she launched herself at me with a ferocity that was surprising. She landed several solid punches and a few kicks for good measure before I was able to wrap her up and run for the concealment of the bushes.
“I’m trying to save you!” I hissed in her ear.
She immediately went still, no longer fighting as I crashed into the foliage, carrying her as I ran. Lightning flashed as we crossed the edge of the planting bed and I couldn’t tell if we’d made it without being seen. Dropping her into the mud, I whirled to face the street and brought the rifle around, fully expecting to see an attacking phalanx of females.
But I’d pulled it off. They hadn’t seen me and were continuing down the street at a full sprint. I had no idea how long it would take for them to realize their prey had disappeared. And I really didn’t have any clue how they’d react. Were these going to be the more intelligent females I’d been encountering in America? Would they come back, searching for the little girl? It didn’t matter. We were going to be long gone before that could happen.
Turning to gather the girl and head for the safety of the building, I froze when I came face to face with the muzzle of my pistol. Slapping a hand against the holster strapped to my vest, I realized she must have grabbed it while I was carrying her and I’d simply failed to notice.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said softly, raising my hands. “I just saved you from the infected. Give me the gun. We need to get out of here before they come back.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said, just as quietly.
I stared at her for a couple of moments, then shrugged. She wasn’t my child. I wasn’t going to force her to do anything she didn’t want to do.
“Fine,” I said. “You know how to use that thing?”
She tilted her head in surprise before answering.
“Try to grab me again and you’ll find out.”
“Jesus, kid. Relax already. I was asking ‘cause I’m going to let you keep it.” I pulled two loaded magazines from my vest and held them out toward her. “Here. You might n
eed these.”
She stared at me for a long beat and I could tell she was caught completely unprepared for my response.
“You’re just going to let me keep it?”
“Runnin’ around out here with the infected, you’re gonna need it,” I said. “But only use it if you have to. The noise will draw them in so fast you can end up getting trapped and overrun.”
She stared at me some more, then took a tentative step forward and reached for the spare mags in my hand. As she was about to take them, a female’s scream tore the night, sounding way too close.
I spun, dropping to my knee and facing where I thought the sound had come from. As I scanned with the rifle, I absently noted the girl copying me, pointing the pistol in the same direction. More screams quickly answered as they communicated with each other.
We were in dense foliage, unable to see the female, but that also meant she couldn’t see us. Unless we did something foolish to give away our position, maybe the bitch wouldn’t come in looking for us. I glanced sideways at the girl, noting the small hands that were holding the weapon were shaking slightly. That was fine. To be expected. But I also saw that her finger was on the trigger. Leaning sideways, I mumbled as quietly as I could.
“Keep your finger off the trigger unless you’re ready to shoot. Fire that right now and they’ll be on top of us in an instant.”
I saw her head move to look at me, then I was surprised when she did what I said without comment or complaint. There were more screams and I could tell a large group was flooding onto the lawn.
Looking around slowly, I was satisfied for the moment with our hiding place. The lashing waves of rain should keep them from scenting us and the constant rumble of thunder would hopefully cover any slight sounds we made. As long as they didn’t decide to search the planting area, we’d be okay. Maybe.
The females spread out, screaming to each other as they sought their missing prey. They were all around us and I didn’t like our odds of survival if we were discovered. Looking at the girl, I held a finger to my lips until she nodded that she understood.
11
Igor had slowly made his way down the bluff and worked around to a break in the small airport’s perimeter fence. The sun was setting as he slipped through, a frigid wind springing up from the north. He didn’t notice the weather other than to recognize the people that were depending on him had been without shelter for some time. They needed some heat and a warm meal. He just didn’t know where he was going to find that.
The airport seemed deserted, but he still moved cautiously with his rifle to his shoulder. Pausing beneath a silent and snow-covered plane, he took a moment to turn a full circle. Nothing moved and other than the moaning of the biting wind, it was preternaturally quiet. He was growing less optimistic about his plan of finding a pilot to fly them to the coast by the minute but wasn’t ready to give up.
Moving forward in the twilight, he crossed a stretch of open tarmac and pressed his back against the frozen steel wall of a rusty hangar. Edging along, he poked his head out for a quick look around the corner. Across a wide gap between the hangar and a squat building that had to be some sort of office, he saw an ancient, battered UAZ Hunter, the Russian take on a Jeep, that had to have been manufactured during the Soviet era. It was parked near a door with a single light mounted above.
Another cautious look, then he stepped out and hurried to the vehicle, briefly resting his hand on the dented hood. The metal was ice cold, telling him the engine hadn’t been running for a while. But that didn’t deter him. The windshield was clear and the tires were good. Someone had driven it here recently, otherwise there would be a layer of snow on the glass. As he had the thought, fat flakes began falling, the wind whipping them past his face.
Rounding the front, Igor made a quick circuit of the building before stepping to the door. He didn’t like standing in the pool of light from the overhead lamp, but then there wasn’t anyone around to see him. Rifle hard against his body, he reached out with his left hand and gently tried the knob. To his great surprise, it turned easily, releasing the latch. Taking a breath, he rushed through the door, rifle scanning for any threat.
He found himself in a small office, lit only by a dim lamp. A scarred, particle board desk sat squarely in front of the door and his rifle’s muzzle paused briefly on the man seated behind it before moving on. Satisfied they were alone, Igor gently closed the door without taking his eyes off the room’s sole occupant.
The man was somewhere between fifty and eighty. Even Igor, who was all too familiar with the effect of the harsh Siberian climate on people’s appearance, couldn’t hazard a guess. Long hair fell to the man’s shoulders and a thick, gray beard obscured the lower half of his face. And from somewhere in all those whiskers came a rumbling snore. Igor noted the mostly empty bottle of vodka resting on the desk and relaxed a notch.
Stepping around to the man, he quickly checked for weapons and came up empty. The desk had a single drawer and when he pulled it open there was only a pack of unfiltered Russian cigarettes next to another bottle of Vodka. Reaching out, Igor slapped the man’s face.
“Wake up!” he said loudly in Russian.
The man grunted, turned his head away and resumed snoring. Igor slapped him again, with similar results. Sighing, he moved to a grimy sink and filled a tin cup with water that seemed only a few degrees above freezing. Stepping back to the desk, he tossed the contents directly into the man’s face.
With a snort and a curse, he came awake, sputtering and looking around with bloodshot eyes. Igor loomed over him and he groaned.
“Son of a whore! Who are you and what the fuck do you want?”
“I need a pilot,” Igor said, more patiently than he felt.
The man stared at him for a beat before snorting a laugh.
“Go away.”
He started to turn, but Igor delivered a hard slap to keep his attention.
“What? You’re still here? Go fuck yourself. Planes aren’t going anywhere.”
“Why not?”
“No fuel. Soldiers came and took it all. Now leave!”
Igor stood over the man, staring at him as he closed his eyes. Tried to determine if he was being told the truth, then decided he needed some proof before simply abandoning the idea.
“Get up!” he said, gathering the man’s rough coat in his fist and lifting him out of his chair. “Show me.”
The stink of body odor, cigarettes and vodka caused Igor to involuntarily wrinkle his nose. Hands flapped at him, weakly trying to resist and he realized the man was too drunk to stand on his own. Dragging him to the sink, he shoved the man’s head under the spigot and turned on the cold tap.
He howled when the icy water flooded across his head, cursing and trying to pull away, but Igor had a grip on the back of his neck. Finally, after nearly half a minute, he released him. The man’s hair was soaked and water flew as he stood and shook his head. Angry, he faced Igor, but fortunately had sobered enough to recognize the futility of attacking the big Spetsnaz.
“What the fuck do you want?” he shouted, reaching for the bottle on his desk.
Igor snatched it out of his hand before he could take a drink. The desire for the alcohol overrode all sense of self-preservation and he lunged. Igor easily side-stepped the clumsy attack and the man crashed into the wall. Turning to take another run, Igor stepped close and delivered a rabbit punch to the man’s solar plexus.
His eyes flew wide and a faint hiss of air came from his mouth as he gasped, unable to draw a breath. Stumbling away, his back came into contact with the wall and he slid to a seat on the floor.
“Sit there and calm yourself,” Igor said.
He put the bottle back on the desk, the man’s eyes locked on and tracking it.
“Told you, no fuel,” he wheezed as his diaphragm began to work again.
“I do not believe you,” Igor growled. “All you care about is your vodka. You would say anything to get me to go away.”
&nbs
p; The man shook his head, finally tearing his eyes from the bottle and looking at Igor.
“I speak the truth! A month ago. The military showed up with trucks. Emptied the planes and pumped the airport’s tanks dry.” He extended his hand for Igor to help him up. “I will show you if it will get you to leave.”
After a moment, Igor pulled the drunk to his feet. Shrugging into a heavy overcoat, the man led the way out into the night, guiding the way with an ancient Soviet military flashlight. Shuffling his feet in the fresh snow, he went to the closest plane and pointed at a spot on the underside of the wing. Moving close, Igor could see an open fueling port. The cap hung from a brass chain, swinging in the freezing wind.
“They are all like that,” the man said, waving around the tarmac. “Go look if you do not believe me.”
“The airport tanks,” Igor said sternly.
“Follow me,” the man said.
When they reached a large, above ground tank, it was immediately obvious it had been drained just as the man had said. The valve had been left in the open position and the indicator on the outside of the curving metal wall was at zero. Igor stared at it for a moment before shaking his head in frustration.
“Fuel from town,” he said.
He was already thinking about how he could get his hands on enough to fill one of the planes. The man shook his head and snorted.
“Will not work. Fuel for cars is poor. Aircraft engines need much higher octane. Now, I showed you. Be on your way!”
He turned and started to walk away but Igor grabbed his arm.
“That Hunter. It is yours?”
“Why?” the man asked suspiciously.
“How much to buy it?”
He stared at Igor, momentarily surprised by the question before a gleam of greed flashed in his eye.
“What do you have that is worth something? All rubles are good for now is wiping your ass.”
