AB (The Blake Reynolds Chronicles Book 1) (11 page)

At the meeting
the next morning, a communication link was established with the main Marine
base. Most of the patrols’ reports were extremely similar: all the ABs from the
surrounding areas were gathering at the old white church. The closer to the
church they were, the more organized they seemed to be. Blake gave a similar
report with the addition of the horror he saw at the processing plant and that
something was being built in the warehouse by the church.

Once the three
patrol leaders had given their reports, the general stood up and paced back and
forth in front of the computer’s webcam. He kept stroking his face with his hand.

“There are two
things that we need to know. First, why are all of them gathering in one spot? Second,
what is going on in that warehouse behind the church? Any ideas on how we can
get more information?” he asked.

“We have
noticed from our few brief encounters that some of the ABs seem to be able to communicate
normally, so we could understand them. It might be worth taking a patrol back
to the area and capturing a couple of the AB soldiers to bring them back for
interrogation,” Blake said. The other two patrol leaders nodded their heads in
agreement.

The general
continued to pace back and forth for a second before sitting in his chair. “Men,
tomorrow I want you to come up with a plan that will allow us to penetrate deep
into enemy territory near the church and warehouse to capture some of those
sons of bitches and bring them back here. Use whatever force is necessary. Captain
Reynolds, you will be in charge because you have the most experience down
there. I want you to report back to me at 0900 tomorrow with what men and
resources you need.”

“Will do.”

Lord Dameon
walked outside to enjoy the warm morning sun on his face. His plans were coming
together better than he could have hoped for. Every day, there were more
brothers and sisters joining the glorious mission. If anything, things were
proceeding too well. It was starting to become difficult to keep everyone busy
and fed. But he knew that they were all being drawn to this great cause.

He sometimes
wondered how they all knew to gather at his position but assumed they had all
received the call as he did. He decided to take a walk out to the warehouse to
see how the work was progressing on the transmitter.

As he reached
the building, he was met at the main door by the small, frail-looking man who
had made the most momentous mission of the newly created brethren. The man
extended a small, gnarled hand to Lord Dameon. “My Lord, how are you this great
morning?”

Lord Dameon
grasped the man’s hand warmly with both of his and smiled. “I am wonderful. How
are you?”

“I am honored
to be working on this project!”

“And what is
your progress in the last forty-eight hours?”

“My Lord, we
should have the transmitter ready in a week or so. We have retrieved all the
supplies that we needed from the university, but it is still slow progress
putting things together. Sadly, most of our brothers and sisters don’t possess
the knowledge to complete the necessary tasks.”

“Well, they are
doing what they can. Each has a part to play in the grand scheme of things. I
know you will do the best you can.”

The man nodded
and bowed his head in submission. Lord Dameon turned and walked back to the
church for his morning briefing with his lieutenants. He sat down in his office,
and his lead soldiers entered the room.

“Brothers, it
is good to see you.”

Each man
returned his warm smile and sat in a chair.

“So what do you
have to report from the night patrols?”

A tall, muscular
man stood up. His red eyes shone brightly against his dark skin. “My Lord, our recruits
have increased by twenty-five percent in the last two days. We should have
enough soldiers to wipe out the unclean north of here within seven days. One
problem that we have is finding ways to arm them. We have very few weapons, and
most aren’t capable of firing them, anyway.”

Lord Dameon pondered
on the problem for a moment. “If they aren’t capable of carrying a weapon of
some kind, then let them carry stick and stones. They all should be able to
handle that at least.”

The man nodded
his head in acknowledgment. “Sir, there is one other thing… One of our patrols
spotted a group of unclean soldiers yesterday, about a mile out. They seemed to
be scouting out our position. By the time the patrol was able to get to the
area where they were spotted, they had disappeared.”

Lord Dameon
stood and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I was wondering when the
unclean would make their way to our pure sanctuary. We can’t let this happen
anymore. Not until we are ready and have the numbers to carry out our main
assault. Make every effort to guarantee that they never make it this far south
again.”

The patrol
leaders stood in unison and nodded their heads in compliance.

“One other
thing… The unclean are extremely arrogant beings; they will probably try and
use the same route again to spy on us. Send out scouts so we know if they are
coming, and we will plan a little surprise for them.”

Just before the
infection hit the U.S., the content of the U.S. government medical records of
all personnel and all civilian contractor records had been transferred to the
USNS Mercy. As it had sped back to the U.S. coast, several of its medical
personnel were scouring its database for potential Vel blood type personnel.
Most potential people had sadly been mistyped.

Captain Nellis was
called into a conference room. After days of searching the database and
following many false leads, he was told that they might have something to
report.

The captain
walked into the data room. The two technicians, who had been seated, stood and
saluted the captain.

“Please be
seated.”

John took a
seat in front of them.

“I hope you
have some good news for me.”

The older of
the two men spoke first. “It has been several frustrating days tracking a
candidate down. We had hundreds of potential candidates. As we went through the
records we discovered by double-checking other sources that most of the
candidates had been mistyped.”

“Yes, go on!”
John said impatiently.

The other man
continued. “Sir, we narrowed the list down to a couple of dozen real
candidates. As we tried to contact their commanders in their areas of
operation, half had been overrun by the ABs. As we contacted the commanders of
the other candidates, they were either reported as KIA or MIA.”

“I assume that
you didn’t call me here just to tell me that there are no candidates in the
whole US of A!”

“No sir. We
believe that there is one candidate in the group defending San Diego. He is a
young Navy SEAL. After talking with the commanding officer in the area of
operation, he is still alive but in a heavy combat zone.”

The captain
stood. “Come with me.”

Once on the
bridge the captain ordered the communications officer to contact Pacific Command.

After the
general got on the line, the captain quickly explained the need to retrieve the
young SEAL and return him to the ship.

Blake and the
other patrol leaders arrived in Major Williams’s office at 1900 hours and took
their seats.

“In a few
minutes, General Arlington will be addressing us. He is commanding the forces
in central California. I was not given any details as to what was to be
discussed,” Major Williams said. He reached across the table and turned on the
computer screen. General Arlington appeared on the other end.

“Soldiers, I am
extremely proud of how you have handled each of your assignments. In most
areas, we are holding our own and saving countless civilian lives. I am calling
you now to tell you that I have been ordered to mount a retrieval mission to
get a young Navy SEAL who is part of the forces guarding the clean zone in San
Diego. From what I understand – and I don’t have all the details – this SEAL might
hold the solution to this apocalypse.

“The Navy is
having a hard time getting through to his platoon, but we believe he is still
alive. They are involved in heavy fights and can’t reach the area. Because the area
you’re covering seems to be dealing with less resistance, you are ordered to
mount the retrieval mission.

“We have plenty
of aircraft at the ready but almost no pilots left. And the few that we do have
are constantly flying support missions. We feel that we can only spare a few SuperCobra
pilots for this mission. If we pull more than one or two, we fear that we will
lose many of our civilian clean zones. This is where I am asking for help. Is
there any of you that know of any pilots in your areas that can fly one of our
Huey helicopters? Maybe a civilian or any retired ex-military personnel?”

There was a
pause as the general stared at the videoconference screen. Each of the group
leaders reported one by one that he didn’t know of anyone that could help.

 
“The other day, I overheard one of our cooks
talking. He said that he was a pilot that flew old Hueys as part of a
crop-spraying business,” the soldier next to Blake said.

“Damn, I was
hoping for more! I guess that will have to do. Check with the man and see if he
is willing to help. Use whatever encouragement is necessary.”

Blake wrestled
between his mind and heart with whether he should say anything about Tara. She
had been flying off and on since her retirement just to keep her skills up.

“General, I’m
conflicted to say this, but my wife is probably one of the best pilots that the
Marines have ever produced. The problem is… we have a four-year-old daughter.”

“Captain, I
know this is a hard thing to ask, but if we don’t win this war, there might not
be any world left to raise your daughter in.”

The general
then addressed the base commander. “Have your men contact the pilots and see if
they will help. Get back to me within the hour with your report.” He then ended
the meeting.

Blake turned to
Major Williams. “I will go talk to Tara, but I already know her answer.”

As Blake walked
back to his tent, he wondered if Kaya would be angry at him for asking Tara
such a difficult question. He slowly entered the tent, and Tara greeted him
with a warm smile. “So how did your meeting go?”

“We are holding
our own, but we don’t know how it will turn out in the long run. But there is a
glimmer of hope.” Blake grabbed Tara’s shoulders, and her smile vanished.

“Then what’s
the problem?”

“There is a
young Navy SEAL in San Diego who might contain the cure to this disease. Problem
is we don’t have enough pilots to mount a retrieval mission. The general is
recruiting all the pilots in the area that he can to help on this mission. I
hesitated to let them know that you are still one of the best pilots the Marines
has ever seen, but then again this is a war for survival.”

“When do we leave?”
Tara immediately said.

Blake cupped
his wife’s face in his hands and planted a soft kiss on her lips. “I’m not sure
yet, but I think in the morning.”

All the
recruited pilots agreed to the mission. The plans were made for all of the
pilots to be escorted by a patrol to the airfield on the west part of Camp
Pendleton. There, they would be given orders and coordinates for the retrieval
mission.

Just as the
plans were being finalized, Blake entered Major Williams’s office.

“Sir, I request
that I accompany Tara, my wife, on this mission. I would also request that
Munns and one other soldier accompany us.”

“Reynolds, I
hate losing two of my patrol leaders at a time like this, but if I were in your
shoes, I would request the same thing. Request granted.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, and one
other thing, Reynolds – bring everybody back in one piece.”

“Yes sir.”

Blake and Tara got
out of their cots at 0500 and dressed quickly and quietly. They wanted to let
Kaya sleep just a little longer. After they dressed they needed to take her to
their neighbor’s tent, who was going to watch her while they were gone.

Tara slowly
pulled back her covers and picked her up.

“Mommy, it is
still dark outside.”

“I know, Sweetie,
but Daddy and I have something very important that we need to do today.”

Kaya rubbed her
eyes then first looked at Tara and then at Blake with a confused look on her
face. “I don’t want you to go. How about we go to the park instead?”

Blake and Tara
looked at each other and knew the other was fighting back the tears. Blake
could see Tara was having a hard time speaking so he continued.

“We should be
back tonight and then we will go the park and play. You will be staying next
door with Amy and her daughter, Jill. Doesn’t that sound fun?” It was all that he
could do to hold the fake smile on his face. He knew there was a chance they
wouldn’t see Kaya again.

Blake reached
down and grabbed Tara’s hand as they walked to the neighbor’s tent.

Just as the sun
started to rise, all the civilian pilots and soldiers were gathered and loaded
in the Hummers. Major Williams came out and saluted the convoy as they headed
towards the airfield. Surprisingly, they encountered few ABs on their way, and
the few they saw either stared at them blankly as they drove by or tried to
attack them and were shot or run over.

It was an hour
later when they rolled up to the gates of the airfield. As they stopped, they were
surprised by how few soldiers were left on the airfield.

“Where is
everyone?” Blake asked the guard at the gate.

“Most have been
assigned to defend clean zones or are out on patrol around the perimeter
defending the base against the constant attacks from the ABs. After the main
base was firebombed, the ABs scattered and tried to escape. Most of them were
killed, but there were many that escaped. Now the fighting breaks out daily,”
the guard said. “The general gave orders that when you arrived, you should go
straight to his office.” He pointed to a silver building to the right of the
runway as he opened the gate.

As they drove
through the gate and towards the building, Tara squeezed Blake’s hand. Once inside,
they were hurried through a door to a small conference room filled with about twelve
other soldiers and civilians. When the general entered the room, those who had
been seated immediately stood.

“Please find a
seat, and we will begin,” he said. “I have been ordered by Western Command to
mount a search and retrieval mission. From what our scientists tell us, there
is a rare blood type called vel. It seems to have the potential to reverse or
neutralize the ABs that have taken over half our population. We are at a
critical turning point in this fight; if we don’t come up with a way to deal
with the ABs, we believe that by the end of the year there won’t be many
infected or uninfected left on the on this continent. Those left won’t have
much to build on.

“This is a
mission where failure is not an option. Use all force necessary to retrieve the
SEAL and bring him back here. He will then be transported out to the ship that
is conducting the research.” The general gestured to the four Marines seated
behind him. “These men are Lieutenants McBride, Jones, Helmandollar, and
Seedall. They will be flying the two SuperCobra attack helicopters and
providing fire cover for the two Hueys. Feel damn lucky we have them for this
mission! We had to pull them off from the front line for this mission, which
exposes more people to the infected masses. Second Lieutenant McBride will be
in charge of the mission. I expect all of you to follow his orders.

“As for the
Huey copter pilots, we have Stanly Nelson. He has been flying for over twenty
years in his field-spraying business. Next is Tara Reynolds. Tara, I served
with your father many years ago; he was a damn good soldier. From what I hear,
you used to be one of the best pilots we had before you retired.”

Tara nodded in
thanks.

“The rest of
you will be assigned to the two Hueys as ground support.”

Blake stood. “I
would request that I be placed on the chopper with Tara Reynolds.” The general just
looked at Blake and was about to object but then nodded his head in consent.

“The code name
for the operation will be ‘Final Solution.’ It takes off in one hour. Get into
your flight gear and prepare for takeoff.”

Tara was escorted
to the pilots’ fitting room to be suited up while Blake, Munns, and Private
Johnson went to the armory to collect supplies such as grenades and ammunition.
They didn’t know what to expect but wanted to be ready for anything.

Blake stopped
in to check up on Tara. When he walked in, he saw her smile as she pulled on
her flight suit. She breathed in the aroma and felt the texture of the
material. He could tell that she hadn’t realized until this moment how much she
missed being part of the Marines and in an active combat situation.

Tara, Blake,
Munns, and Private Johnson walked to the fully fueled Hueys just as the other
crews were finishing loading and preparing for takeoff. Blake and his men
secured their supplies while Tara walked around the helicopter doing a quick
flight check as the three soldiers strapped down their gear and buckled in.

Lieutenant
McBride’s voice broke the static on the radio as the whine of the engines
started to move the giant rotors on top of the Huey. “I want this to be a tight
formation. I will take the lead with my Cobra in the front. The other Cobra
will trail in back. Be warned: There might be some small arms fire as we leave
the base. The flight there should be relatively smooth, but the reports we’ve
received from San Diego say they have heavy fighting and a lot of small arms
fire with occasional rocket-propelled grenade attacks.”

While the
engines warmed up, each pilot entered the GPS coordinates into the navigation
computer. As the group left the ground, Blake's stomach began to constrict with
knots. A flood of memories came back to him about his tours in Iraq and
Afghanistan.

They hadn’t
been in the air for more than a couple of minutes when they cleared the
perimeter of the air base when they were taking a few rounds of small arms
fire. The Cobras were on the attackers within seconds and fired several short
bursts from their externally mounted machine guns. This stopped any further
small arms fire.

Blake’s breathing
quickened as the adrenaline kicked in. “You boys OK back there?” Tara called
over the radio.

“Just another
day in paradise,” Blake yelled back.

The rest of the
flight passed as predicted. Things seemed almost too calm as they flew over the
gentle rolling countryside of the California coast. As they approached the outskirts
of San Diego, there were puffs of smoke flowing up into the clear blue sky.
Blake couldn’t tell what was causing the smoke but guessed that it was the
fighting that was unfolding below them.

As they flew
within a few miles of the civic center, the air was filled with heavy smoke. He
could make out figures running in all directions. Most appeared to be civilians,
but there were a few soldiers mixed in. It was almost impossible to distinguish
between friend and enemy. As they started to make their final approach, they were
hit with small arms fire. The two SuperCobras covering them returned fire, and
the shooting stopped.

Lieutenant
McBride’s voice came once again over the radio, occasionally interrupted by a
burst of machine gunfire. “We will be over the target in less than two minutes.
Hueys, you will land in the parking lot north of the civic center. We will
remain in the air providing cover until you have retrieved the private or
cleared the area.”

As they neared
the civic center parking lot, there was an occasional ping off the outer skin
of the Huey. There was barely enough room in the parking lot for the two choppers
to land. As the two choppers touched down, a small number of Navy SEALs dressed
in combat gear ran out of the building with their guns raised.

As they approached
the choppers, they broke into two groups, taking flanking positions on each
side of the choppers. The single remaining soldier slowly walked up to the
choppers as the rotor slowly spun to a stop.

Blake stepped
out of the chopper with Munns and surveyed the surroundings. It was only a few
seconds before the Lieutenant reached his position. After a quick salute, he
stuck out his hand and said in an urgent tone, “Lieutenant William Larson, to what
do we owe the honor of a visit from the Marines?”

“Captain Blake
Reynolds. I have orders to find and return with private Connor James. From the
little I know, he might hold the key to solving this whole thing. Do you know
him?”

“Of course I
know him! I know all the men under my command. He is a hell of a good fighter.
But why would Command want him? How could he fix anything? He is only one man.”

“I honestly
don’t know, but we have our orders and not a lot of time.”

Blake stuck his
head back in the chopper just as Tara had finished unbuckling the seat harness to
help with the mission. He shook his head. “Oh, no you don’t! I need you and
Private Johnson to stay here and guard the choppers. I will tell the other
pilots to do the same. If they don’t stay safe, this mission will fail.”

Tara gave him
the look. The one that says “I’m about to disagree with you in a major way.”
Then she remembered that this wasn’t just her husband but now her commanding officer.

“Three men and one
girl might not be enough of a guard. We have been having perimeter breaches all
morning long, and where you decided to park is on the northern perimeter of
those breaches,” Lieutenant Larsen said as he shook his head.

“Lieutenant,
that girl is my wife, and we have a little daughter back at our base. I would
hate to see anyone that would stand in her way of getting back to her!” he said
with an icy stare.

“Whatever you
say, Captain!” Lieutenant Larson turned his back to Blake and called for his SEALs
to follow him to the temporary evacuation zone headquarters.

Once they
entered the building, they climbed several flights of stairs until they reached
the top and entered a large conference room. Blake quickly scanned the room and
noticed no lights were on except for the communication equipment and a couple
of laptop computers. There were city maps all over the walls and one on the
large table in the middle of the room.

Lieutenant
Larson walked to the front of the room followed by a female staffer. He pointed
to the seats at the table. “Please be seated.

“Just a little
background for you before we start talking about your private. As you know,
after the announcement that the infection would be hitting the U.S., the
country was divided into districts. The Navy would be covering the San Diego
district, the non-O blood type sailors and soldiers were ordered to North
Island, where they were thought to be easily contained if and when they became
infected. Only a hundred sailors were assigned to guard the San Diego-Coronado
Bridge that leads to the island. They were guarding the bridge and patrolling
the waters to make sure no one made it off.

“The day before
the infection hit the U.S., I was put in charge of clearing out a ten-block
radius around the Civic Theater. I-5 on the north and east, the ocean on the
west, and around the Padres ballpark to the south. I was assigned three large
patrols to secure the perimeter. Things went well at first. Anyone who could
prove they had blood type O was allowed into the evacuation zone, and all the
other civilians were ordered to stay in their homes. Then the infection hit. At
first, we had a few people inside the evacuation zone change. They must have
forged their documents thinking it would be safer in the clean zone. As they turned,
they were promptly disposed of, much to the objection of their family members.
Within a few hours, floods of people were coming in through the perimeter gates
seeking refuge. After a couple of hours, we had thousands of terrified
civilians. At first, there were minor attacks from the ABs. But as time went on,
the attacks became more numerous, and we had to draft every man, all women
without children, and even some of the older teenagers to join the fight to
keep our zone clear.”

“At the end of
the first day, we got word that the soldiers on the island had become organized.
They didn’t seem to like the water, so they threw wave after wave at the guards
on the bridge. Bodies were piling up so high that they started to slide off the
sides of bridge and fall into the ocean. There were firefights breaking out
everywhere. The fifty or so guards on the bridge finally just ran out of ammunition
before they were able to get resupplied. The reinforcements didn’t come quickly
enough, and men holding the bridge were forced to fall back. A quarter of the AB
sailors and soldiers were able to escape off the island.

“They fought
like savages. Most used sticks, stones, pipes, or anything else they could use
as a weapon. Some seemed to retain enough knowledge and grabbed the weapons of
the fallen guards. It was reported by one of the patrol boat captains that
there was a small group of men in the background giving orders to the rest. It wasn’t
long before they had broken into one of the armories.

“We were spread
so thin setting up evacuation zones that once they got off the island they
couldn’t be contained. We lost all the area south of the ballpark to the
Mexican border. Some of the reports that we received from some of the survivors
that managed to make their way north to our evacuation zone are hard to
believe.