Recovery: V Plague Book 8 Page 21
“When we learned of what they were doing, Canberra complained to Washington. We very nearly had to cancel the cooperation agreement with them and remove them from the country, but they finally provided us with details on what was being done to harden the installation. I think only a politician would believe that they shared everything they were doing with us. That’s why there has been a team on the ground at the station coordinated by this control center. We have already found three lethal countermeasures the Yanks didn’t disclose.”
“Bloody hell,” Lucas said. “I surely stumbled in a mess, didn’t I, sir.”
“That you did, Staff Sergeant. That you did. Fortunately you called me rather than charging off like a bull and mucking everything up. But, now that you’re here…” White grinned.
“Thank you, sir, but no. You don’t need me getting in the way.” Lucas said, shaking his head.
Despite his protests he was itching to be involved. Ziggi would be royally pissed, and he couldn’t lie to her. If he volunteered to go he’d have to tell her what he had done and that would likely mean at least a month of sleeping on the couch.
“I thought you might say that,” White said, withdrawing a paper from his pocket and handing it to Lucas. “Your recall paperwork. All proper and legal. You’re mine until such time as I deem your services are no longer required.”
“Thank you, sir,” Lucas said, looking up from the official paperwork that reinstated him into the Regiment. “I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to call the missus and tell her for me, would you?”
The men assembled in the hangar burst into laughter.
41
It got completely dark very quickly. Rachel didn’t think she’d traveled more than fifty yards through the snow before the only light was the flickering torch. The light it cast danced in the forest and she continually thought she was seeing movement, catching her breath and turning to only see the wavering shadow of a tree or bush.
As she moved farther away from the lake she climbed the slope that she’d dragged Bill down earlier in the day. It was steeper than she remembered and the deep snow made travel very difficult. She couldn’t walk normally, rather had to lift a foot, extend it forward and lean into it as she broke through the frozen surface of the snow. Each step sank more than twelve inches before reaching solid footing and required a lot of concentration and energy.
Rachel knew she wouldn’t be able to run. But she also knew that even if she could it wouldn’t matter. She’d never be able to outrun a wolf, even on flat ground in good weather. If the animal attacked her only options were the pistol and flare gun. If she even had warning that an attack was imminent.
Trudging up the slope her back itched as she thought that the wolf could already be stalking her. Ready to streak in from behind and launch itself at her like a deadly missile. Slam into her back and knock her face down into the deep snow. All she’d feel would be that horrific impact before the beast’s hot breath was on the back of her neck.
The mental image became too much and Rachel stopped, turning to look behind her, fully expecting to see the glowing yellow eyes and blood stained teeth. But when she looked, nothing was there. Just the signs of her passage in the snow, paralleling where the wolf had pulled Bill’s corpse across the surface.
Below her the campfire burned brightly, providing a brilliant beacon in the dark night for her to follow to return to its safety. Or illusion of safety, she corrected herself. It couldn’t be too safe if a predator had walked in and dragged a body off as she slept. But it was better than sitting huddled in the cold, dark forest, waiting to die swiftly from a vicious attack or slowly from hypothermia.
Forcing herself to focus on the reason she was stumbling around the woods at night, Rachel resumed moving forward, one difficult step at a time. Soon she reached a small flat part of the slope, coming to a stop when she saw the body a few yards away near the base of a tree. It had been ripped open, exposing the internal organs, much of the meat on the lower half having been stripped off. Most of both leg bones were exposed and the snow around the corpse was stained red with blood.
Turning back and forth, Rachel held the torch as far above her head as she could and checked her surroundings. The light was weak and didn’t penetrate more than a few feet beyond the body, but she did the best she could to see if the wolf was lying in wait for her. As she looked she kept the pistol up and traversing the forest, in sync with her eyes.
After almost a minute of looking she slowly climbed up and over the lip of the crest formed by the flat spot on the slope, pausing to check the area again. Still seeing nothing she took a shaky breath and moved to stand over Bill. Refusing to look at the damage done to the body by the feasting wolf, she focused only on his shoulders.
She couldn’t remember which one he’d tapped when he told her about the transmitter so she reached down and touched the one closest to her. Even this far from the damage to the rest of the corpse, blood soaked the fabric, but it was frozen stiff. And there was nothing under the material except dead flesh. The other shoulder was partially buried in the snow and she had to turn him over to get to it.
Kneeling, she tugged on the body. Expecting the weight of a full-grown man, she hadn’t taken into account the mass that had been removed and consumed by the wolf. Wolves, she corrected herself. She knew they lived in packs and besides, there had been too much of the man consumed for it to have only been one animal.
The body rolled easily, Rachel losing her balance and falling backwards onto her ass. The torch flew out of her hand, landing a few feet away, flaming end piercing directly into the snow. It went out and near perfect darkness descended. Even though it was only snowing lightly at the moment a thick layer of clouds blocked any moonlight that might have helped her see.
The old Rachel, the pre-attack Rachel, would most likely have frozen in place with no idea what to do. But she’d learned a lot from John. Some of it in the form of lessons as they’d had time, but much more of it from just observing how he operated in different situations. She might not be able to see but she knew where the body was and just sitting there literally freezing her ass off wasn’t going to improve her plight.
Pushing up onto her knees she leaned forward and touched the body, tracing her hands across the frozen face before finding the opposite shoulder. There was the bulge she remembered being pointed out to her. The pistol was still in her hand and she jammed it into her pocket and pulled out the knife. Leaning in closer she was prepared to start cutting the fabric of the flight suit, then stopped as a thought occurred to her.
Was the beacon self contained, or could there be a battery and antenna sewn into a different location? If she started cutting and severed either of those this would have all been a waste. Unsure what to do, she stayed kneeling over the corpse, motionless.
Finally she realized that if her fears were correct there would be wires leading to and from the beacon and she should be able to feel them. Running her hand all around the spot she was able to identify the perimeter of the device, but if there was anything attached to it she couldn’t find it.
Growing colder by the moment, terrified that the wolf would suddenly appear, Rachel decided she had to take the risk and cut the material. She set to work, careful in the dark so she didn’t slice her hand with the sharp blade. It only took a few seconds to cut open the suit, reach in and remove the beacon.
It was smooth metal, no more than three inches long by an inch wide and half an inch thick. As she grasped it a faint red light flashed on the surface. She hoped that meant it was functioning as designed and transmitting. She felt something as she withdrew her hand and reached down to touch the body.
A zipper. On the back of the shoulder. Tugging it open she stuck her fingers in and they came out the hole she’d just made on the front side of the G-suit. Shaking her head for not realizing there had to be an easy way to access the device she wondered what else she wasn’t thinking about that could make the difference in survival.
Moving onto the slope she slid a few inches with every step until her foot went deep enough to gain traction. Fighting her way down she had covered half the distance when she came to a sharp stop, barely suppressing a scream. Between her and the campfire she could clearly see the silhouette of the wolf standing motionless, watching her.
As frightened as she was, Rachel reacted in the manner she’d picked up from John. The pistol was back in her hand and she aimed at the dark shape as best she knew how and pulled the trigger three quick times. The crash of the gunfire was shockingly loud in the silent forest, her ears ringing.
But it worked. The wolf bolted, heading into the forest directly to its front. Rachel had no idea if one of her bullets might have hit it, but she felt a small sense of victory that at least she’d scared the animal. She rushed forward before it overcame its fear, stumbling and nearly falling several times as she ran down the slope.
Reaching the campfire, Rachel finally did trip as she tried to slow her momentum, falling into the snow. Scrambling to her knees she hastily piled more wood on the fire, keeping it roaring. Moving past it, she stayed on her knees with the lake to her back and the fire between her and the forest.
Unless it wanted to take a dip in the icy water, the wolf wouldn’t be able to reach her without coming into the light. Taking the flare gun out, Rachel made sure the barrel was clear of snow or any other obstructions before placing it on the ground in front of her. When the pistol ran out of ammo at least she’d have one more shot before the wolf’s jaws closed on her throat.
42
Martinez kept the HIND low to the deck, flying at no more than fifty feet of altitude. She was taking them slightly east to a small municipal airport where they could refuel the beast of an aircraft. Irina sat next to her in the cockpit, prepared to speak to any Russians that might spot them and radio a challenge.
The idea was that by flying “nap of the earth” they would be able to avoid Russian radar. The sun was down and the sophisticated night vision system built into the aircraft allowed her to stay low and dark, and hopefully undetected.
After capturing the soldiers and the surviving pilot, Irina had convinced Colonel Crawford to let the men go. They were in the middle of nowhere, she argued, and there was no need to kill them. She reminded the Colonel that the Russian military was a pawn, having been lied to by her country’s political leadership about why they were really in America.
Reluctantly agreeing, Crawford had taken everything except the men’s clothing, leaving them some water and allowing each man to keep a knife. Igor had talked to them, explaining the reality of the situation, but they had cursed and spat at him, calling him a traitor. He had been withdrawn and introspective since they’d taken off in the commandeered helo.
The upside to switching from the Bradley to the HIND was speed. As long as they could find fuel they should reach Idaho ahead of the Major, even with his advantage of a head start. The downside was the loss of the FSOC system. There was just no way to transfer it to the Russian helicopter and they were now out of touch with Pearl Harbor, which meant a laborious search of the Idaho mountains with a thermal imager once they arrived.
Crawford wasn’t happy with himself. He should have communicated with Pearl, letting them know, but once they’d successfully subdued the Russians and seized control of the HIND there was a scramble to get in the air and clear the area. He had simply forgotten. Now they were cut off.
Martinez had needed all of five minutes to be comfortable enough with the foreign machine to get it in the air. With Irina sitting beside her, translating the Cyrillic labeling on the control panel, she found what she needed and got them going. And the first order of business had been to find fuel as the helicopter was beginning to run low.
She had located the closest airport in a small pilot’s handbook she found in the cockpit. It didn’t surprise her that even though it had been issued by the American FAA (Federal Aviation Administration), it was in a Russian aircraft. Locating a small airport that didn’t even have a tower, she headed straight for it to top off their tanks before heading for Idaho.
“Do you have anyone back home?” Martinez asked Irina over the intercom. They were in private mode and no one in back could listen in on their conversation.
“No. I’ve been here in the US for several years,” she said after a few moments of deciding whether or not to answer. “What about you?”
“I’ve had my helicopters,” Martinez said. “There’s been a few men, but they were always intimidated by what I do, so…”
Irina laughed sadly, “Yes, I know what you mean. Back home, before I came to America, everyone that wasn’t GRU was afraid of me. Once I got here, well, American men expect to smile and you’ll just fall into bed and spread your legs for them.”
Martinez nodded, encouraging her without saying anything.
“And what is with American men?” Irina asked. “Before I came here I was expecting strong, confident men. That’s what I saw in all the movies and TV shows that were part of my training and preparation. Men who weren’t afraid to be men. The instructors kept telling me that wasn’t what America was really like, but I didn’t believe them. Not until I got here, that is.
“Growing up in Russia, especially in the Soviet Union, America is this mystical land of supermen. John Waynes and Gary Coopers and Clint Eastwoods. I get here and… well, the only one I’ve met that lives up to the Russian impression is Major Chase. Has America always been so soft and self absorbed?”
“No, it hasn’t,” Martinez said. “We got soft. And don’t even get me started on men. I gave up on them years ago. I got tired of worrying about their fragile little egos being bruised because I was a bad ass helicopter pilot.”
“What do you mean you gave up on them?” Irina asked, turning her head to look at Martinez.
“I just meant I’m really tired of men who are threatened by a woman doing a job that’s traditionally a man’s. You know, I’m one of only three female combat helicopter pilots in all of the US military? Well, I was. Maybe now I’m the only one.”
“I was hoping you were…” Irina was interrupted when Scott climbed into the cockpit and stuck his head between them.
“What’s wrong with men?” He asked.
“They’re always butting in where they shouldn’t. That’s what,” Martinez said, smiling at Irina. “Need something?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with Igor? He’s acting like someone just killed his dog or something.” He was speaking to Irina.
“The soldiers we set free. He tried to explain to them why he was helping you, but they called him a liar and a traitor. Igor is a very proud man, and he loves his country. He’s hurt, and he’s having to deal with it.” Irina said.
“Should we be worried about him?” Scott asked.
“No, not at all. He will be fine. He knows the truth. It just really hurt him to hear those words from a fellow soldier, even if they’re not true.”
Scott nodded, accepting Irina’s explanation but making a mental note to keep a close eye on the big Russian. All they needed was for Igor to decide he’d made a mistake and they’d have a very large problem to deal with.
“There’s the airport,” Martinez said as he was having the thoughts. “Go take a seat. I’m going to do a couple of orbits to make sure we don’t have a whole herd of infected in the area just waiting for us to show up.”
Scott disappeared as Martinez cut their airspeed and banked into a gentle turn. As the HIND circled the area she and Irina kept a sharp lookout through the night vision, but didn’t see any movement. Completing the first circuit, Martinez widened the next one to get a better view of the area.
The town was small enough to walk from edge to edge in less
than ten minutes. The main street through the center of town was paved as it was actually a small state highway, but it was the only pavement. The rest of the streets were dirt and so was the runway at the airport that boasted all of one rusting hangar with a decrepit bi-plane sitting in front of it.
There was a hand lettered wooden sign bolted to the wall of the hangar above the doors that read “Simon Crop Dustin”. Either the owner thought he was being a little homespun by leaving the G off the end of the last word, or maybe he hadn’t paid much attention in school.
Martinez didn’t give it any thought as she brought them into a hover after satisfying herself there weren’t any infected in the area. Any in the open, at least. Touching down, the massive rotor swirled up a huge cloud of dust and she cut the engines as quickly as possible. The longer they ran, the more dust that would get sucked in and potentially clog the intake filters.
A small fuel truck was parked inside the hangar and Martinez ran to it with Irina, Scott and Igor in tow. The Colonel remained in the HIND with Johnnie Ray who had woken with a splitting headache and a particularly nasty attitude. It had taken threatening him with Igor to get him to finally shut up. He was understandably afraid of the big Russian.
Cracking open a valve, Martinez held her hand out into the narrow stream of liquid that began pouring out. She rubbed her fingers together, feeling the substance before lifting her hand and sniffing. Just because the truck had been labeled as fuel didn’t mean that was what was in it. She wasn’t going to risk all their lives on what someone in a town this remote really had in the tank.
“We’re good to go,” she said.
Scott jumped in the cab, sticking his head out the door a moment later.
“No keys,” he shouted.
Irina translated and Igor stepped forward, waving Scott out of his way. Using his knife he pried the ignition switch out of the dash and seconds later the starter whined to life as he hot-wired the truck.