Recovery: V Plague Book 8 Read online

  Getting mine attached, I took a few tentative steps on the deeper snow of the road. They sank in a few inches and though not as good as real snowshoes, were a huge improvement over just my boots. Katie, way more than a hundred pounds lighter than me, was able to walk on the surface of the snow like some kind of fantasy forest creature. She looked up at me and smiled.

  “Let’s go get her,” she said.

  52

  The night had passed slowly for Rachel. Colder than she’d ever been, she had stayed as close to the fire as possible. As the temperature continued to drop she debated taking down the windbreak she’d created with the other parachute canopy and using the material to further insulate herself. But if a strong north wind came up again it would be of more value where it was, so she left it alone.

  Never having felt so alone, she fell into despair. She mourned the loss of the world. The end of her dream to become a Doctor. The point where she would have chosen a specialty hadn’t come for her but she had always thought about being a pediatrician. Not that she was particularly fond of children but she liked the idea of caring for them and watching them grow.

  She thought about John, her heart breaking as she admitted to herself she would never see him again. How could he have survived the caverns he’d gone into to save Katie? And even if he had survived there was no way he could find her. Besides, what did he need with her now that his wife was back? She was unimportant. Not needed. But she still loved him.

  Heart aching, her eyes slowly closed and her head began to nod. Her chin finally came to rest on her chest and she slept, somehow her body remaining upright on the log serving as her chair. When the growl woke her, she jerked upright with a sharp inhale of breath.

  Two wolves stood just within the ring of firelight, near the body of the one she’d shot earlier. She didn’t see the one that was circling the fire and approaching from the side until it growled again, drawing her attention. It was only ten feet away when she saw it, gathering itself for an attack.

  Despair and heartache turned to white-hot rage in an instant. Screaming, Rachel lifted the pistol and began pulling the trigger even before she was aiming at a target. Standing as she continued to fire, she charged the wolf. More frightened by the gunshots than her screams, it turned and raced off into the darkness. Spinning, she looked for the two on the opposite side of the fire but they too had disappeared.

  Rachel stood there for several minutes, panting as the rage subsided. When she began thinking more clearly she moved back to the log and frantically ejected the pistol’s magazine. One round left in the mag and there was one in the chamber. She only had two rounds left.

  Angry with herself, she tossed more wood on the fire and forced herself to think over her options. She only had two shots remaining in the pistol. The wolves weren’t showing any sign that they were moving on. It was snowing harder again, and from the feel of the breeze coming out of the north it was going to continue for a while. Dead wood for the fire was running out unless she began moving deeper into the forest to collect it. If she made it through the coming day she knew she wouldn’t survive the next night. She had to try something before it was too late.

  “When it gets light,” she mumbled to herself.

  After two shots with the pistol, there were three shells for the flare gun. Once she could see she would start walking. She had no idea which direction to go or how far she was from anyplace where she could find shelter from the weather and animals, but staying where she was would be resigning herself to a horrible death when the wolves finally took her.

  Rachel looked over her shoulder when the thought came to her. It wasn’t uncommon for fishing cabins to be built on the shores of remote lakes. She had known avid fishermen and remembered hearing them talk about being glad they had a cabin at a certain lake. They would have a several hour hike to reach their favorite spot where they’d spend several days fishing and drinking. A cabin, even a rough, primitive one was better than sleeping on the ground in a tent.

  As soon as there was light she’d start around the lake. Her impression of it from the previous day was that it was large. Thinking about it in the dark she convinced herself that there would be shelter somewhere along the shore. And walking next to the lake would give her protection on at least one side from the wolves. They probably weren’t any more eager to go into the frigid water than she was.

  Plan in place, Rachel felt better. She was hungry and was tempted to eat the last MRE, but not knowing where food would come from after that was gone she resisted the temptation. At least she would have water as long as she stayed near the lake.

  Rachel passed the rest of the night lost in thought, staring into the flames. She heard the wolves howl a couple of times but they sounded far away. The snow stopped for an hour or two, then just as the first sign of light showed over the peaks to her east it began snowing again.

  She gave it half an hour, the light slowly growing until she could make out details of the forest beyond the limits of the campfire. Shouldering the survival pouch she gripped the pistol in one hand, the flare gun in the other, and started walking.

  53

  It had been a long time since I’d walked in snow. Or dealt with truly cold weather. I’d grown up in America’s desert southwest and other than some quick missions into Europe, both eastern and western, most of my military career had been spent in hot latitudes. Snow skiing or boarding, or any winter sport, had never interested me so cold weather had primarily been something I saw on TV.

  Katie had grown up in Michigan. Snow was nothing to her. She used to talk about going snowmobiling, ice fishing, driving her car out onto frozen lakes, all kinds of things that made me shiver and appreciate the desert all the more. Moving lightly she gave me a bright smile when she caught me looking at her.

  The snow was coming down harder as we climbed the ridge. I was breathing heavily due to the thin, mountain air. Remembering watching football games, I wished for one of the oxygen masks that teams visiting Denver would use to help their players deal with the altitude. I had no idea how high up we were but was pretty sure it was a lot higher than Denver’s mile of elevation.

  I was keeping a constant scan going as we trudged up the slope, Dog moving easily a few feet to my left rather than his normal position on my right. It had taken him a while to learn that if he didn’t want hot brass raining down on him he needed to be on the other side of me.

  The wind had been at our backs when we started walking, but as we approached the crest of the ridgeline it swung around until it was striking the right side of my face. Dog stopped at the top, looking down into the next valley. As I stepped up next to him his nose went into the air, a moment later his hackles going stiff and a low growl rumbling in his chest.

  “Infected?” Katie asked from the far side of Dog.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, scanning the terrain that opened up below us. “Not all the way out here. Probably some wildlife.”

  The valley to our front was massive, a lake far below that filled the entire floor. Spread across the horizon beyond were dozens of spires of rock that soared into the sky, all of them disappearing into the heavy overcast. Looking at the peaks I understood how the Sawtooth Mountains had gotten their name.

  The slope down to the lake wasn’t steep, at least the parts of it I could see. It was just a long way down and would be an even longer climb back up. Dog growled again and I placed a hand on his back, feeling the tension in his body as he sampled the air. Deciding to call my eye in the sky before heading deeper into the forest, I fished the satellite phone out of a Velcro sealed pocket and dialed.

  “Hi, sir.”

  “Jessica, we’re on foot on top of the ridgeline overlooking the lake. Is the target still stationary?”

  “I can’t tell, sir. Thermal isn’t getting through the clouds. Too dense, and too much water vapor. I can still see the fire, but at the moment that’s the only thing on the ground hot enough to show. Sorry, sir.” She answered.

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nbsp; I thanked her, turned the phone’s ringer off and slipped it back in my pocket. Making sure the Velcro was secure so I didn’t lose our only connection to the outside world, I stepped over the crest and started down the slope.

  It was much easier going down than climbing in the thin atmosphere. The trees grew thickly, the footing tricky with the snow concealing fallen branches that would roll out from under our feet if we weren’t careful. I cautioned Katie, as it would be easy to sprain or break an ankle on the treacherous terrain.

  We were about half way down the slope to the lake when Dog stopped and lifted his head, looking to the southeast. I held up my fist as I stopped, Katie who was five yards behind me halting when she saw my signal. Dog didn’t growl, just kept looking in the same direction then I heard what had drawn his attention.

  Rotor noise. There was a helicopter in the mountains. I glanced back at Katie and she nodded that she was hearing it as well. The helo was distant, the sounds echoing off the hard rock of the peaks so it could well have been in a completely different direction. I listened hard but it was faint, fading in and out depending on how much bounce the sound waves were getting from the mountains at any given moment.

  I had hoped to be able to hear it well enough to recognize the signature. Every make of helicopter, if you’re familiar with it, has a unique sound. Different rotors, different rotor speed, and a few other factors that only an aerodynamic engineer can explain. I can distinguish an Apache from a Black Hawk from a Huey from a Russian HIND or Havoc just by the sound it makes while in flight. Most ground combat troops can. But this was just too faint and inconsistent for me to identify.

  We stood there until the sound faded completely, still with no clue whether it was Russian or American and unsure which direction it was really in. At first I felt a swelling of hope in my chest, thinking it was Martinez coming to the rescue, but I quickly dismissed that idea. Colonel Crawford and Jessica both had told me the Russians were building up their presence and had complete control over the skies of western North America. I doubted there would be an American helo flying around.

  Continuing our trek I kept a close ear out for the helicopter, but it had either landed or moved into an area of the mountains where its noise was screened from us. We covered another mile, the slope growing steeper in places and slowing our progress. I was getting glimpses of the large lake through the trees and an occasional whiff of a fire when the wind was blowing directly in my face.

  We were getting close and I reminded myself not to hurry and fail to watch for threats. Jessica had told me she believed there were wolves in the area tracking the lone survivor. Even though I had Dog, I didn’t want to let myself depend completely on his senses. Plus, there were some new players in the neighborhood in a helicopter.

  Getting close enough to the lake to see occasional glimpses of the fire through the trees, I stopped next to a set of clear tracks pressed into the snow. They looked like the prints Dog was leaving, but were nearly twice as large. Jesus, just how big did wolves get?

  Dog lowered his nose and sniffed the tracks thoroughly, finally looking down the slope in the direction of the campfire. Katie had stopped when I did and I waved her to move up next to me, pointing at the tracks when she arrived. She looked down and knitted her brow in a question.

  “Wolf,” I mumbled, looking all around us. “Stay close.”

  She nodded and moved with me when I continued down the slope. We saw more tracks crisscrossing the area as we cautiously picked our way through the snow. No more than thirty yards later I came to a stop when I saw what looked like a bloody pile of clothing on a small shelf that overlooked the lake. I pointed and Katie nodded before resuming her scan all around us.

  There were many more tracks as we moved to the shelf, the snow churned up by multiple animals passing back and forth through the area. I could now tell that I was seeing a body, recognizing the dark color of the flight suit against the crimson stained snow. Heart in my mouth, I approached the corpse and looked down. Relief flooded through me.

  I didn’t recognize the man, but all I cared about at the moment was that it wasn’t Rachel. The body had been torn open and devoured as well as much of the flesh stripped off the legs, arms and back. The face was damaged, horribly, apparently having been gnawed on, but it clearly wasn’t Rachel.

  Katie and I exchanged glances before continuing on. We cautiously approached the fire, spreading apart as we got closer. I made Dog stay with Katie as we moved through the trees in case anything was in the area and we just hadn’t spotted it yet.

  The fire was abandoned, yet still burning. There was a large bed of coals and ash from having been built up and I had no doubt that Rachel hadn’t been gone long. Motioning Katie and Dog to stay at the perimeter I moved in, noting the dead wolf and the parachute canopy tied between two trees with a tall drift of snow against the far side of the fabric.

  Several brass shell casings from a pistol lay in the mud where the heat from the fire had melted the surrounding snow. I did a quick count and wasn’t happy to arrive at the conclusion that she was either out of ammo or dangerously low.

  Visually searching the ground I easily spotted her tracks heading off along the lakeshore. Moving to the very edge of the water I raised the rifle and used the scope to scan along the edge of the water in the direction she had gone. I didn’t see her but there were places where the lake lapped against bluffs covered in thick trees. If she were following the lake she would have to move deeper into the forest to get past these areas.

  I signaled to Katie and she moved close to me as we began following the tracks. It was snowing heavily and they were already starting to fill in and would soon disappear. We needed to move fast. Based on the state of the campfire I was guessing she’d taken off about an hour ago. The same time we were cresting the ridge.

  Leading the way, I moved quickly. The terrain was mostly level here next to the lake and we were able to make good time. Within the first hundred yards I spotted wolf tracks angling in from the forest and pursuing. I pushed faster, to a near jog, Dog sensing impending action and moving in front. Katie stayed close behind as we moved through the silent forest.

  54

  We followed the tracks for over an hour, pushing as fast as we could. Frequently we moved back into the trees as the shoreline would suddenly rise and had forced Rachel to find an easier path. Staying in her tracks I was heartened to see that even despite the heavy snow the imprints appeared sharper and better defined. That meant they were fresher and we were gaining on her.

  I considered taking the suppressor off my rifle and firing some shots in the air to let her know I was in the area, but was uncertain how she would react. She might turn back and come towards the sound, or it might frighten her and send her off in a new direction even faster than she was already moving.

  The wolves were definitely tracking her and by now I had identified at least five separate sets of tracks. Why were they waiting to attack and bring her down? Had she succeeded in scaring them enough that they weren’t willing to charge in while she was up and moving? Had her killing the wolf in the camp instilled some fear in them?

  We moved for another half an hour, the tracks steadily becoming crisper in appearance then Dog came to an abrupt stop. His head was down below his shoulders as he stared through the thick underbrush, his tail straight out with the tip slightly elevated. I froze, searching the forest ahead as I noted the faint sound of Katie stepping next to me.

  I didn’t see anything. Taking a closer look at Dog I tried to follow the direction his eyes were locked on but still couldn’t see whatever had him on guard. Slowly lifting the rifle I pulled it tight to my shoulder and looked through the scope. It took me several long seconds then with the help of the magnification I spotted them.

  Two grey wolves, each about the size of Dog and less than fifty yards away. They were standing next to a large, moss and snow covered boulder. A thick tree trunk was between them and us, little blots of snow stuck to the vert
ical surface. Their mottled fur blended so well with the greys, greens, blacks and whites of the environment that they were all but invisible.

  The wind was in our face so they hadn’t scented us as we approached. Both of them were intently watching something in the direction of the shoreline to our front, so for the moment we were undetected. I was grateful that Dog hadn’t growled and given us away, or worse, charged forward to fight as soon as he saw them.

  I’ve never been one to derive pleasure from killing an animal for sport. I learned to shoot by hunting coyotes but there was a purpose to that. If the packs weren’t kept under control they’d run out of food in the wild and come looking for a meal at the ranches in the area. Chickens, lambs, calves, goats, even dogs would get taken. When that happened, many of the ranchers were so poor they would have to depend on the kindness of neighbors, or a handout from the state, to even put food on their table. No. There had been no sport in shooting the coyotes.

  I had no animosity towards the wolves, and in fact would have preferred to leave them unmolested. I’m neither unaware nor insensitive to the part they play in nature. But when they decide to hunt someone I care about I have no hesitation to take the fight to them.

  Sighted in on the closest animal I pulled the trigger and it dropped dead without a sound when the round pierced its head. The second one jerked away from where the first one fell, snapping its body around to see what happened. I fired as it was in motion and the intended head shot missed, the bullet knocking a chunk out of the rock beyond it. It turned and fled, vanishing instantly into the forest.