Days Of Perdition: Voodoo Plague Book 6 Read online

  I gathered Zemeck, Rachel and Martinez around as Stephanie kept an eye on the kids who were enjoying playing with Dog.

  “OK, here’s what’s happening.” I began. “We leave the Explorer here with Stephanie and move to the right end of the building below where the Pave Hawk is sitting. I’m going up while you three stay at ground level. There should be an exterior door that I can open for you once I’m in and recon is complete.

  “If you have to back off for any reason, infected or guards, do it. Don’t engage if you can slip away. The last thing we need is a commotion to draw their attention. I don’t know how long it’s going to take me, and I’ll keep you updated when I can, but you’re going to have to settle in and be patient.”

  This last part was for Rachel, and to a degree Martinez. Zemeck knew the routine and wouldn’t jump the gun, but this was new for Rachel and I knew from experience that she wasn’t exactly the most patient person in the world. Not that I am, either, but she needed to understand that she didn’t need to start getting antsy if I wasn’t back in fifteen minutes.

  We talked for a couple more minutes, most of the questions coming from Rachel. When I was as satisfied as I was going to be that the group was ready I whistled Dog over and gave Stephanie a brief explanation of what was happening. Having grown up in Oklahoma she knew how to handle a weapon and how to shoot, so I felt better leaving my M4 with her in case she needed to protect herself and the children. With a last check of the gear on my body I stepped off, leading the way down the gentle slope to the casino.

  40

  The walk to the casino was uneventful. We moved with me on point, happy to have night vision again, Rachel and Martinez side by side in the middle and Zemeck bringing up the rear. Dog stayed tight to my right leg, ears up and nose constantly twitching as he padded along silently. There was no breeze to carry scents to him, but that also worked in our favor as our smell wasn’t being carried to any infected in the area.

  My head was on a swivel, watching for both infected and survivors. The thermal scan had shown a few small groups of what had to be infected at different spots around the exterior walls of the casino, and I didn’t want them to have any advance notice of our arrival. I was also worried about potential attacks from infected wildlife.

  I had no idea if razorbacks ranged into this part of the country or not, but after dealing with the ones in Arkansas, then seeing the obviously infected bats in Texas, I wasn’t in the frame of mind to trust any animal we encountered. But, we didn’t encounter any, moving to the edge of the paved parking lot without incident.

  The lot was so large the building was still over two hundred yards away and I paused when Dog let out with a quiet growl. Holding up a clenched fist I stopped our advance and looked down at him. His eyes were locked on the structure to our front and I was reasonably sure he had caught a sound or scent of the infected group that was clustered beneath the helipad.

  After another scan of the area I got us moving forward again, treading lightly across the smooth asphalt. Dog would growl occasionally to let me know there was still danger ahead, but I wasn’t able to see them yet. Slowly the details of the building resolved in my NVGs as I drew closer.

  We were approaching at an oblique angle to the edge of what had resolved into a truly impressive structure. Even though the interior of the building was only one level, the walls soared nearly fifty feet into the air, which I suspected created an almost cavernous feel to the inside. Made of smooth stucco there was the occasional symbol embedded into the stone that represented something from the heritage of whatever tribe had built the casino.

  Despite knowing that I had Indian blood in my veins courtesy of ancestors on my mother’s side, I’d never had an interest in the culture and ignored the designs other than to take note of their presence. What I wanted to see was a maintenance ladder that ran from the ground up to the roof. At the moment that was much more interesting to me. But, I wasn’t seeing one on this side.

  Reaching the wall, I flattened my back against it and gave the rest of the team a moment to join me before sliding along to a corner. I could hear them before I saw them, the snarling of several males. Pausing at the edge I signed for the rest of the group to hold and peeked my head around to get a view of what we were dealing with.

  Eleven infected were in the immediate area, five males and six females. All were just standing there, the females’ heads tilted back to stare at the parapet far above them, the males swaying slowly back and forth as they waited for something to happen. I was preparing to raise my new rifle and start dropping the females when movement farther out caught my attention. It was two infected lying on the ground.

  At least I thought they were just lying on the ground, until I looked closer and was stunned into immobility. A male infected was on his back, a female straddling him as they mated. What the hell? I knew the females were getting smarter, or probably to be more accurate they weren’t having as much of their cognitive functions damaged by the virus as it mutated, but to be having sex?

  I didn’t even want to think about the implications of the infected mating. For that matter, I had no idea how the infected’s minds were being impacted by the virus. Was this mating for procreation, or was some part of their disease riddled brains seeking out sexual pleasure?

  A touch on my shoulder startled me back to reality and I turned. Rachel was looking at me with a curious expression that was mirrored on Martinez’ and Zemeck’s faces. Peeling the NVGs off I handed them to Rachel and motioned for her to take a look. We traded places and she peered around the corner. The way her body went stiff I could tell she had spotted the amorous couple.

  Finally I tapped her shoulder and she turned around with a look of stunned horror on her face. Next I waved Martinez and Zemeck forward for a look. This wasn’t a peep show; I just wanted everyone to be able to confirm what I had seen. There had been hope that the infected would eventually start dying off and the survivors would be able to reclaim the world. But if they were procreating, well, hell, it wasn’t good.

  I could tell Rachel wanted to talk about this new development, but I waved her off. We had the information. Discussing it could wait until I had Katie safely in my arms. Zemeck had gotten a look and also had a count and mental picture of the location of the infected. Using hand signs I told him his area of responsibility was the left and I would take the right. He nodded and I raised three fingers, counting down.

  When my last finger folded into my fist we stepped around the corner together, rifles up, and began engaging the infected. Two females dropped simultaneously then two more before the others realized something was wrong. One of them turned and emitted the beginning of a scream before Zemeck shot her between the eyes.

  We kept targeting and firing, quickly putting down all of the females. I paused a heartbeat when I realized the female in the act of mating was still so occupied that she hadn’t noticed us. Walking forward I started shooting the males and she finally stopped grinding her pelvis on the male and looked around. I shot the last male standing and stood with a steady aim at her head.

  She turned back to the male and lunged down, tearing his throat out with her teeth, dark blood jetting into the air from his severed carotid artery. Slowly she got to her feet and turned to face me, pants around her ankles. My aim wavered as she bent down, grasped the waistband of her jeans and pulled them up to cover herself.

  “What the hell is going on?” Rachel said quietly from behind me.

  I didn’t know how to answer that question. This was a whole new level of behavior from the females and quite frankly it creeped me the hell out. Remembering why I was here in the first place I said the hell with it and pulled the trigger. The female’s head snapped back and her body fell across the male she’d just killed after mating.

  My heart was pounding and I took several deep breaths to calm down and refocus on the task at hand. A quick scan for any more infected came up empty and I turned to face the group. All of them looked as shocked a
s I felt.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” I said, reaching out and taking my NVGs back from Rachel.

  I scanned the wall and was disappointed to not see any way to access the roof. Turning to Zemeck I nodded and he walked a few yards away from the building before turning and looking up at the roofline. He must not have liked what he saw as he backed up another couple of yards, lowered his rifle and raised the grappling hook launcher.

  Aiming high, he pulled the trigger and there was a low thump followed by the hiss of high-pressure air being released. A high strength polymer hook shot into the sky trailing a length of lightweight rope. The hook sailed out of sight over the edge of the roof, then the rope softly slapped against the wall.

  Grabbing the line I began pulling to drag the grappling hook across the roof. There were knots tied into the line every eighteen inches that gave me a good grip. They were there to help climbers grip the rope and I’d forgotten just how long it had been since I’d gone up the outside of a building. Putting it out of my mind I tugged hard when the hook grabbed something solid on the roof.

  The rope felt secure but before I started up the wall I held onto a knot and pulled myself a few inches off the ground. Everything seemed secure even with my full body weight hanging from the line. Swinging my legs up I clamped my feet together on the rope, boot soles resting on a knot and reached for the next one above my head. Hand over hand I climbed, keeping my feet securely on the line each time I reached for a new grip.

  There was a time when I would have let my legs swing and trusted in just my upper body strength. There was a time when I could scamper up a rope like a monkey. Have I mentioned I’m not twenty any more? Now, if I went too fast I could miss a grip and fall. Too slow and my muscles would fatigue and my grip would slip. I tried not to think about either of those scenarios and just went up at a nice, steady pace. I might have been a little slower than I used to be, but I still made it up the rope and over the parapet in a reasonable amount of time.

  When my head cleared the edge, I paused long enough to scan the roof for any threats. Not seeing any, I came all the way up and as soon as I was on the roof, stood and raised the rifle for a more thorough scan. Still all clear. Looking down over the edge I waved to let them know all was good then headed to check the Pave Hawk.

  I paused when I saw the man sitting in the cockpit. He was either dead or asleep, head hanging down as he slumped forward in the flight harness. Still, I approached the helicopter carefully, pulling the door open quickly with my rifle up and ready when I got there.

  There was no need to check. The smell hit me the instant the door came open. It was bad, but nowhere near as bad as it would get. Not knowing how quickly we might need to be able to depart I took a moment to release the harness and work the body out of the aircraft. The man hadn’t been dead long as his body was still stiff with rigor mortis. It was difficult to force the rigid limbs into the angles needed, but I kept pushing and pulling until he came free and tumbled to the roof. Dragging the corpse a few feet away from the Pave Hawk I decided to leave the door open to allow the stench of decomposition to air out.

  41

  The plasti-cuffs binding Roach’s hands behind the chair back finally parted. Suppressing a groan as his arms came in front of his body for the first time in hours he leaned forward and breathed deeply until the worst of the pain passed. He was locked in a small utility closet, having been hauled away by the new arrivals. At first he’d been relieved to see them as the Major’s wife was about a second away from putting a bullet in his head when they showed up, but they weren’t interested in talking to him.

  He had been roughly dragged to his feet and marched to a small closet that smelled of cleaning supplies. A steel framed chair had been brought in and he’d been forced to sit on it, his hands pulled behind the back and secured. Each ankle had also been strapped to a chair leg, the large men ignoring his attempts to speak with them as they worked.

  Once he was secured they had slammed the door and left him in the dark. Sitting there, throat and balls aching from where Katie had attacked him, he forgot all about that pain as he listened to a conversation from outside the door.

  “Jimmy’s going to like that one.” One of the men said with a chuckle.

  “No shit. He’ll be happy. Hasn’t had a bitch to use since we had to hit the road.”

  Both men had laughed then moved away from the door. Roach’s blood had run cold. He had always looked at women as nothing more than objects for him to use for his own sick pleasures, but had never imagined finding himself on the receiving end. Terror spurred him to start testing his bonds.

  The plastic ties were very tough, but he eventually found a rough spot on the chair’s metal frame. It was at the very limit of the reach of his bound hands, but there was a tiny, sharp edge where the legs had been welded to the seat that hadn’t been ground completely smooth. It wasn’t much, but it was his only option.

  Torqueing his upper body into an uncomfortable position he began moving his hands up and down, rubbing the tie on the spot. Finally, after several hours of work, his hands were free. Grasping the tie holding his right leg to the chair he pulled, but there was no way he could break loose. Looking around he hoped to spot something he could use to cut free.

  A small of amount of light leaked in through a ventilation grate in the lower half of the door. While it was dark in the closet there was still enough illumination for him to see. To his right was a rack of shelves loaded with one gallon jugs of cleaning chemicals. He briefly considered finding one that was corrosive enough to weaken the plastic and allow him to break free, but dismissed the idea out of fear of what the compound might do to his flesh if it was harsh enough to eat plastic.

  On the other side of the room were neatly stored brooms, mops and buckets. Nothing there. Twisting his head around he spotted a small workbench with three drawers. Half standing up into a crouch he lifted the chair and hobbled to the back of the closet, pulling the top drawer open. It was stacked full of clean, glass ashtrays. The second one held neatly folded cleaning rags, the third stacked with boxes of paper match books and a row of cork screws for opening wine bottles, both with the casino’s name and logo printed on them.

  Slipping a corkscrew into his pocket, Roach grabbed one of the matchbooks and sat down on the seat, leaned forward and struck a match. The odor was sharp and acrid and he worried someone outside the closet might detect it and investigate, but pressed ahead and held the flame to the plastic around his left ankle. Soon the smell of burning petroleum was added to the mix as the white plastic tie began to bubble.

  Roach pushed with his leg and the bond stretched half an inch before the match burned down to his fingers and he dropped it on the concrete floor. Lighting another he held it at the same point and as the flame burned out his leg broke through the weakened material. Quickly he lit another and began working on his right. Two matches later he was free, suppressing a shout of triumph.

  As he stood up the door was suddenly yanked open and the light that shone in after being in the dark for so long momentarily blinded him.

  “Anxious little fellar, ain’t you?” A deep voice said a moment before he was grabbed and pulled out of the closet.

  Roach’s eyes hadn’t fully adjusted to the light, but he could tell he was facing a very large man. Another man stood behind him, but he couldn’t make out his features as he squinted.

  “Billy, my new friend and I are going to get acquainted,” the giant man said, the undertone in his voice sending a thrill of fear and revulsion through Roach. “Make sure we’re not disturbed.”

  “You got it, Jimmy.” The man answered.

  Roach was panicking. Barely able to take a breath, eyes darting around as he looked for any escape route. When Jimmy turned his head to nod to Billy, he lunged away and to the side. He didn’t know where he would go, just knew he had to get away from the man. He didn’t even make it a step before Jimmy’s massive fist lashed out and struck him on the side of
the head.

  He stumbled and fell, nearly losing consciousness. Jimmy stepped over him, reached down and wrapped a huge hand around his upper arm. Lifting him to his feet he leaned in until his face was almost touching Roach’s.

  “Go ahead and fight, sugar. That just makes it better!” He said with a grin then planted a wet kiss directly on Roach’s mouth.

  Roach wanted to tear away from the man and run, but the grip on his arm was like iron and he was afraid to antagonize him. Jimmy broke the kiss and stood back to his full height, a head taller than Roach, turned and headed directly to a door with a small brass sign on it marking it as “PRIVATE”. Roach had no choice but to walk with him as the man’s hand tightened on his arm to bring him along. A scream of “NO” began to build in his head and he didn’t know if he was actually shouting it or not.

  42

  The steel door set into the roof’s bulkhead was locked with a deadbolt and I didn’t have a key. But the hinges were on the outside and I did have several thermite grenades courtesy of Zemeck. Seems he’d thought of everything.

  Thermite grenades have been used by the US Military since World War II to disable equipment, most commonly artillery that has to be left behind and is at risk of being captured by an enemy. Though they are called grenades, there is no explosion, rather the ignition of the combination of magnesium, aluminum and iron. The chemical reaction quickly reaches temperatures of 2,500 degrees Celsius and will destroy the barrel of a canon, or the hinges on a door.

  OK, so maybe he hadn’t thought of everything. How the hell was I going to keep the grenades in place on the hinges long enough to melt them? Realizing there was no way to use the thermite I raised the NVGs and clicked on a small flashlight to examine the door. It was set flush into a steel frame, the exterior smooth and unbroken except for the deadbolt and a small knob.