Cataclysm: V Plague Book 18 Page 6

  “What? Something saved you?”

  “Rusalka,” Igor said, nodding his head.

  “What the fuck’s a Rusalka? Like a Dolphin or somethin’?”

  “Nyet.” Igor shook his head. “Like woman. Live in water.”

  “A woman in... A mermaid? Rusalka’s a mermaid?”

  “Da. Spirit. She save me. I save you. Irina.”

  Strickland didn’t know what to think of Igor’s pronouncement. A fucking mermaid? There was only one explanation. Igor had nearly drowned and almost certainly lost consciousness. While he was out, his mind had played tricks on him.

  Then, between the currents and the waves, he must have washed up in the same general area as where he and Irina had come ashore. When he’d regained consciousness, he’d retained a memory of the hallucination he’d had while in the water.

  “You no believe,” Igor said, looking closely at Strickland’s face.

  “It’s just that, well...”

  “I know truth. Rusalka real. She save me. Tell me where find you. I have mark.”

  “You what?”

  “Mark,” Igor repeated. “She make mark.”

  Igor extended his right arm and Strickland leaned forward for a close look. A few inches above Igor’s wrist was a dark bruise in the perfect outline of a hand with a thumb and only two fingers.

  “Mark of Rusalka,” Igor said with total conviction.

  “Fuck me,” Strickland breathed, a chill running down his spine.

  11

  “Talk to me, Chief. What’s happening?”

  Jessica had found a data connection in the fallout shelter and hooked it to her tablet. She was busily reading something, tapping occasionally. Everyone was silent, waiting for any nugget of information from her.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” she said without looking up.

  “What doesn’t?” I asked.

  “The Russian bomber was too low.”

  I watched her for a moment, waiting, but she didn’t explain what she meant.

  “Chief!”

  “Sorry, sir. What I mean is, that bomber was only at about eight thousand feet. From what I’m seeing, my guess is that it managed to sneak in under our radar, maybe at no more than a hundred feet or so, then popped up over the island.”

  “That’s pretty standard for nuclear delivery,” I said. “At least it was.”

  “Yeah, but not like this. You don’t release a nuke at that low of an altitude. Not if you want to survive. It takes...” she tapped furiously for a couple of seconds, “about twenty seconds for a bomb released at eight thousand feet to strike the ground. And nukes, unless they’re bunker busters, will be set to detonate roughly three thousand feet above the ground to maximize the damage. So, a five-thousand-foot fall only takes about fifteen seconds. At the most. That’s not enough time to get away, unless the pilots are suicidal.”

  “Chief,” I said more calmly than I felt. “How does this help us?”

  “I don’t think they dropped a nuke. And if they did, it would have gone off by now.”

  There was a beat of stunned silence, then a collective sigh of relief passed through the room.

  “Nerve gas.”

  Everyone turned and looked at Colonel Blanchard.

  “Don’t think so, sir,” Jessica said. “They weren’t over the island long enough for an effective dispersal.”

  “Then what?” I asked. “No nuke. No gas. The Russians aren’t going to sacrifice a bomber and its crew for no reason.”

  I turned to Viktoriya who seemed as freaked out as the rest of us. It’s not a good feeling standing around with your thumb up your ass, waiting for a nuclear warhead to go off.

  “I have no idea,” she said.

  I held her eyes for a moment, then acknowledged to myself that she was probably a good enough liar to fool me with little effort. Not that I thought she was being less than truthful, but just because she’d earned Major Black’s trust didn’t mean she’d earned mine.

  “Sir! Reports coming through of an attack on base!”

  “What kind of attack?”

  I pushed through to stand and look over Jessica’s shoulder.

  “We don’t know. The reports aren’t making any sense. Something flying at ground level. It’s going after the CIC! The Admiral!”

  “Open the door, Senior Chief,” I snapped.

  He looked at me in surprise and started to speak, but Rachel beat him to the punch.

  “Are you fucking crazy? You don’t know there’s not a bomb about to go off!”

  “That’s why you’re staying here and I’m going up to take a look. Chief’s right about it not being a nuke.”

  Rachel wanted to keep arguing, but Blanchard, Pointere and Martinez were right behind me, ready to go. I gave Rachel a quick kiss as the door’s locking pins retracted, then it began to trundle open. Dog stood at the slowly widening entrance, ready to dash out, but moved aside with a look of displeasure when I told him to stay with Rachel and Mavis.

  “Weapons?” Blanchard asked as we slipped through the opening and charged up the stairs.

  “My quarters,” I said. “Enough for everyone.”

  My heart was pounding, pumping adrenaline throughout my body and I raced up, four stairs at a time. Reaching the ground floor, I blasted into the hall without waiting for the rest of the group. They were still two levels down.

  Rushing through the open door into my quarters, I tore open a closet. Shrugging into a vest stuffed with loaded magazines and a few other tools of the trade, I grabbed a rifle and checked it as I ran outside through the sliding lanai door.

  The air raid sirens still wailed, but a buzzing like a massive swarm of angry bees was loud on the night air. Well, at least it was loud to my enhanced hearing. Mixed in, I could hear the occasional pop of small explosive charges, which made absolutely no sense of any kind. Turning in the direction of the sound, I broke into a sprint.

  It was completely dark, no lights showing from any building, but the moon provided more than enough illumination for me to see clearly as I ran. Ahead, the large building that housed the CIC. I slowed to a stop when I saw what was happening.

  More bodies than I could easily count were on the ground, most of them Marines who’d been guarding the area. The ones still alive were in a panic, looking up at the night sky with their weapons half-aimed, whirling and turning their heads as they searched for a target.

  Something suddenly streaked in from the darkness above, moving so fast it was a blur. It targeted one of the Marines, striking his head and detonating with another of the pops I’d heard. He crumpled to the ground, dead, then a beat later another man fell. What the fuck?

  “Oh, my God,” Martinez panted as she caught up with me.

  “What the fuck is it?” I growled.

  “Stay back! You can’t fight this.”

  “What?” I asked, but Martinez had already taken off in a new direction.

  Two more pops and two more dead Marines. Then a series of more powerful explosions rocked the night as the entrance doors came under attack. The door fell under the assault, then a swarm of something raced inside.

  “What the hell?” Blanchard asked as he and Pointere came to stand with me.

  “Beats the fuck out of me,” I said. “Sounds like...”

  “Hornets,” Pointere said, interrupting.

  “Worse,” I said. “They’re carrying some sort of charge. That’s what killed the Marines.”

  “Ideas?” Blanchard asked.

  “Martinez is up to something. Just ran off that way.”

  A new sound reached me from the direction she had gone, then a Navy Sea Hawk helicopter suddenly popped up from the rear of the building. The way it danced around as the pilot repositioned the aircraft told me it was Martinez at the controls. She brought the helo over the area where the Marines were still under attack, spun it around and just hovered.

  “What the hell’s she doing?” Pointere asked.

  I could only shrug an
d stare in confusion as the helicopter suddenly gained altitude, turned and disappeared in the direction it had come from. The rotor noise slowly faded to be replaced by the wailing sirens, but the harsh buzz of the swarm was gone.

  We advanced slowly to where the surviving Marines stood nervously watching the sky. Pointere called out while we were still a hundred yards away, rightly knowing the last thing we should do was surprise them. Several looked at us, then they began to check their fallen brothers.

  Picking up the pace, we hurried forward. Still a good distance from the entrance, I paused when I picked up the buzzing sound coming from inside the building, accompanied by several of the pops.

  “I’m going inside,” I said, breaking away and setting out at a trot.

  Reaching the breached door, I stood to the side with my weapon up, looking and listening. Nothing was visible beyond a long corridor, but in addition to the swarming noise I could hear cries of pain and fright. Recognizing the futility of attempting to use a firearm against something so small and fast I couldn’t even see it, I dropped the rifle and shrugged out of the vest. Stepping inside, I pulled my shirt over my head and held it in front of me like a net.

  Hurrying forward, I set course for the source of the sounds. Bypassing a blast rated door that was the entrance to the CIC, I stopped and peeked around a corner at a large open space filled with cubicles. A working area for enlisted personnel.

  Bodies were everywhere. On the carpeted floor. Draped over furniture. And the buzzing was loudest where a group of people had taken refuge in a small office. I could see frightened faces peering out through a window at a swarm of... what the fuck were they?

  Thirty or so of them hovered in the air, seemingly waiting for something. They weren’t attacking the door or glass the way the main entrance had been forced open, but they weren’t backing off. It seemed like a standoff.

  Watching the things, I glanced at the shirt in my hands. No way could I take them on without some sort of weapon capable of neutralizing their advantage of size and speed. And I had no idea what that would be.

  Looking around for anything I could use, my eyes stopped on a large fire extinguisher hanging on the wall. Taking a step closer, I peered at the label. CO2. That meant a dense cloud of vapor somewhere in the range of minus fifty degrees Celsius. Would that work? Could these things be frozen? Only one way to find out.

  Taking it down, I pulled the pin and swiveled the nozzle into the ready position. It was big, weighing twenty pounds, so I was hoping it wouldn’t run out too quickly. Working my way through the maze of cubes and bodies, I was momentarily astonished when I was able to identify the things. That caused me to hesitate and the delay gave them time to discover me.

  With an angry buzz, several of them broke from the swarm and rocketed toward me. The extinguisher was already aimed and I squeezed the discharge lever. Immediately, a thick cloud of white vapor filled the room and I moved sideways, hoping to avoid my attackers if the CO2 had blinded them.

  The hiss of the escaping gas was loud, covering the sounds of the swarm. I kept spraying, unable to see a damn thing, just focusing on the area where I’d last seen the things. Lost in a sea of white, I slowly advanced, sweeping the area. Then the extinguisher ran dry.

  I dropped it and whipped my shirt out, ready to net anything out of the air that emerged from the rapidly dissipating cloud. But there was no sound and no attack. A few seconds later, I could see all of the things lying on the floor. Hopefully permanently disabled, not just stunned by the severe cold of the CO2.

  “Let’s go!”

  I shouted at the people watching me from inside the office. If warming would bring these things back to life, we likely didn’t have much time to get the hell out of there.

  The door was yanked open and they began streaming out, avoiding the area where their attackers were lying. Most were uniformed Navy personnel with a few Marines thrown in. Then Admiral Packard emerged, the last person to exit the office. As soon as he slipped past me, I turned and followed, expecting to hear the high-pitched buzz at any instant.

  We made it outside without incident and I paused. What if those fucking things did wake up and come after us? Picking up the door that had been blasted open, I covered the opening as best I could, jamming it into place with my shoulder. Turning, the breath caught in my throat when I saw the Admiral kneeling over a body on the grass. It was Major Black, a nearly bloodless hole in the center of his forehead.

  12

  Admiral Packard stood and looked around. I could see the rage in his eyes. Smell the fury that coursed through his body. Recognized that the virus was in control at the moment, probably telling him to order an all-out assault on the Russians with everything we had. I quickly stepped forward before he could begin issuing orders.

  “Sir, come with me,” I said in a low voice.

  For the moment, there was total chaos around us and no one was paying attention. I’d lost control enough times to understand I needed to focus him long enough for the adrenaline to start flushing out of his system, or it was very likely he’d make an irrational decision.

  “No time, Colonel,” he growled. “The Russians need to pay for what they’ve done.”

  He started to turn away and I had no choice other than to grab his arm. He whirled back, thrusting his face into mine.

  “Do not interfere, Colonel!”

  “Sir,” I responded in a calming voice. “I’ve been where you are. Your blood is singing to you. Telling you to kill your enemy. Smash them. Obliterate them. All you want is to feel their bones break and smell their death.”

  He glared, and I thought he was going to attack me, then he blinked. And shook his head.

  “They need to pay,” he said in a slightly calmer voice.

  I released his arm but was prepared to grab it again if he tried to take off.

  “They will pay,” I said, lowering my voice and staring into his eyes. “I will make sure of that. But the timing has to be right and now isn’t the moment.”

  We stared at each other for what seemed a long time, then he blinked again and took a deep, shuddering breath. I could smell the change as the rational part of his mind reasserted control. He nodded to me, then looked down at Major Black’s corpse.

  “How did they do this?” he asked.

  “With these.”

  We turned to find Martinez standing a few feet away. She held something out in her hand and we both moved closer to see what it was.

  In the palm of her hand was a mini-drone, no larger than a pack of cigarettes. Painted gray, it sported a tiny serial number and a very small American flag.

  “How?” Packard asked, taking it from Martinez and examining it. “How did this kill someone?”

  “Three grams of plastic explosive packed into a shaped charge with a contact switch. The drone is programmed to impact an individual’s head, which triggers it. That’s more than enough force to penetrate a skull and destroy the brain. The truly scary part is these are capable of targeting specific people through the use of facial recognition.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I exclaimed.

  “How do I not know about this?” Packard asked, ignoring me and not looking away from the device.

  “Don’t know, sir. I only know because I was involved in the project about a year before the attacks. The Air Force was working with a defense contractor to get these ready for deployment. The concept was to be able to fly over an urban area with a single transport or bomber which could release thousands of these to form a swarm. They could be programmed to randomly kill anyone that moved, or target individuals, or both.”

  “How the hell did the Russians even know about this, let alone deploy it?” the Admiral asked.

  “Can’t say how they knew, sir, but the contractor was in Southern California. Maybe they just found it and figured it out.”

  I looked around, seeing thousands of the little things littering the ground. They were intact, having been disabled somehow when Ma
rtinez flew over in the helicopter.

  “What were you doing with the helo? How’d you stop them?”

  “Sea Hawk configured for VIP transport,” she said with a shrug. “Means there’s an EMP generator as a last-ditch effort to defeat an attack. I knew they weren’t EM hardened so I just fried the little bastards’ brains.”

  “So, all these units still have live ordnance aboard?” Packard asked, receiving a nod from Martinez.

  He turned and shouted a warning at Colonel Pointere who was helping a wounded Marine. The controlled frenzy of checking each fallen man and woman suddenly came to a stop. Pointere shouted instructions and a moment later a voice responded that an Explosive Ordnance Disposal team was on the way.

  “You did good,” I said to Martinez. “Saved a lot of lives.”

  She shrugged, but I could tell she was happy to receive the praise.

  “Damn good, Captain!” Packard said, gently placing the drone on the grass as Captain West arrived at a dead run.

  “Sir, I need to check on my family,” I said, not seeing anything I could contribute.

  “Go,” he said, and I nodded for Martinez to come with me. “Oh, and Colonel.”

  “Sir?”

  “Thank you. For...”

  We looked at each other for a long moment, an understanding passing between us, then I nodded and trotted off with Martinez at my side.

  “Could the Russians have more of these?” I asked as we ran.

  “They could. I’ve got no idea how far the project progressed after I rotated back to a combat unit. We were in an advanced testing phase at that point, and it apparently went well. Manufacturing hadn’t kicked in and the delivery system was still being worked on. Guess they got it all working.”

  “So, there could be a warehouse full of these things?”

  “Could be,” she said as we arrived at the VOQ.

  Rushing down the hall, I led the way downstairs, happy to find the shelter’s blast door tightly shut. I pressed the intercom button, telling Senior Chief Wilkins it was clear. A few seconds later the locking pins clunked free and the door began to move open.