Anvil (24 page)

“He’s
running for the rope!”  Edwards screamed.

But so were
the females.  They had Dutch spotted, and even though he was only a few
feet away, he had to grab on and start climbing.  He got both hands
wrapped around the rope.  Despite withering cover fire, multiple females
slammed into him and pulled him to the ground before he was high enough to
escape. 

More rushed
in and in an instant I lost sight of him beneath the mob.  Everyone
stopped firing, staring in horror at the pile of bodies.  Females were screeching
their delight, but we all clearly heard the screams escaping from Dutch’s throat
as they tore into his flesh.  I kept my rifle aimed at the pile, waiting
for a shot.

Moments
later the crush of infected shifted slightly and I caught sight of Dutch’s
face.  He was still alive, his mouth open in a scream of unimaginable
horror as he was torn open and eaten alive.  Blood spurted from a severed
artery, painting his face in a macabre death mask.  Drawing a shuddering
breath, I pulled the trigger, putting a round through his forehead and ending
his pain.

“Motherfucker!” 
I screamed over the edge of the roof at the thousands of infected below.

Emotion fed
my exhaustion and I dropped back onto my ass after a long moment of wishing for
a minigun and an endless supply of ammunition.  My rage quickly turned to
fatigue as I sat there with my head between my knees, panting and muttering
curses.  After most of a minute, a pair of boots appeared in front of me.

I took my
time looking up to see who it was, meeting Chico’s eyes when I did.  Drago
and TJ stood on either side of him, a few feet to his rear.  All three of
them had looks of shock on their faces, tears flowing from Chico’s eyes. 
They’d been through hell with Dutch in Iraq, Afghanistan and now the United
States.  They were a small band of brothers that had just watched their
big brother die.

“Thank you,”
Chico said, extending a thick hand to help me to my feet.

I sat there
for a long time, just staring dumbly ahead.  Finally, the raging screams
of the infected pulled me back to reality and I accepted his assistance.

“Don’t thank
me,” I said, popping a fresh magazine into my rifle.  “I hope any of you
would do the same for me.”

Each of them
nodded and with a sigh, I looked over the edge.  Both generators were
running, their engines sounding smooth.  At least Dutch hadn’t died for
nothing.  The infected knew we were on the roof and were beginning to pile
up against the base of the wall.  The clock was ticking.  Time to put
the nerd to work.

I looked
around, spying Edwards lying on his side against the low parapet.  He was
curled into the fetal position, gently rocking with his arms wrapped tightly
around his body.  Just fucking great.  I didn’t blame him, I wanted
to do the same thing, but we had a job to do. 

“Lieutenant,”
I shouted as I strode over to him.  “On your feet.  Time to earn your
paycheck.”

He didn’t
respond and I motioned Drago over.  The big Ranger bent and grabbed
Edwards’ shoulders, bodily lifting him to a standing position.  I prefer
to do my own manhandling, but my shoulder didn’t feel like it could take the
stress.  The last thing I needed was to injure it further.

“Lieutenant
Edwards.  Can you hear me?”

I stuck my
face an inch from his and spoke loudly.  His eyes were unfocused at first,
finally finding mine and sharpening.

“You shot
him!”  He cried.  “You didn’t even try to save him!”

I took a
step back as if I’d been physically attacked, struggling to control my own
emotions.  Before I could respond, Drago spun the smaller man
around.  Pressing his forehead against Edwards’, he began speaking in a
low, rapid voice.  Too low for me to hear.  Sensing the Ranger had this
in hand, I stepped away and gave him space.

After a
minute, Drago released him and took a couple of steps back.  Edwards
sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve.  He didn’t look in my direction,
but Drago caught my eye and nodded.  Motioning to him, I took rear guard
as we moved into a diamond formation with Edwards in the middle.

   We
crossed the roof to the helipad, pausing long enough for the Lieutenant to
collect a large backpack.  He had brought along a couple of laptops and a
bird’s nest of different cables that would be used for him to connect to the
servers and complete his job.

Adjacent to
the helipad was a bulkhead with a heavy door.  Inside would be a flight of
stairs to the interior of the building.  I just hoped there would be signs
to guide us and we didn’t have to search the whole place for the server
room.  It was a huge structure, and I didn’t think we had a whole lot of
time before the infected piled up enough to reach the roof.  If that
happened, we were stuck inside with no way out.

Drago was on
point, and he stepped to the door and tried the handle.  It was
locked.  Slinging his rifle, he pulled a four-foot pry bar out of a sheath
on his back.  He had brought it specifically for this purpose.  We had
expected to find a lot of locked doors. 

Jamming the
tapered end into the seam between the door and jamb, he gripped it with both
hands and pushed with all of his considerable body weight.  There was a
moment of resistance, then the jamb deformed and the door popped open.  Chico
guarded Edwards, TJ and I at the ready, rifles seeking targets when it opened,
but the brightly lit stairwell was empty.

Drago
sheathed the iron bar and raised his rifle, leading the way in and down. 
TJ followed, then Edwards, Chico and me.  As I passed through I pulled the
door closed, mildly surprised to hear the lock click into place.  At least
our backs were protected.  For the moment.

The stairs
descended to a small landing, turning and continuing down to end at another
steel door.  We stopped, spread out on the lower section of steps as Drago
placed his ear against the surface of the door.  There was no window and
he was trying to hear any threats that might be waiting before popping it open.

After a long
pause, he turned and looked at the rest of us, shaking his head.  That
didn’t mean the area on the other side was clear, it only meant he couldn’t
hear anything.  This door wasn’t locked, the handle turning smoothly and
quietly in his big hand.  He inched it open, peering through
cautiously.  TJ was in position to help slam it shut if there was an
attack, hands raised and hovering inches from the middle of the door.

Apparently
it was clear as a few moments later Drago pulled the door the rest of the way
open and stepped through, breaking to his right.  TJ followed on his heels
going left, Chico holding Edwards back with a firm hand on his shoulder. 
When two ticks sounded over the radio, Chico lifted his hand and tapped the
Lieutenant twice to let him know to proceed.  I followed, softly closing
the door behind me. 

We were in a
plush hallway.  This was executive country, which made sense given the
proximity of the helipad.  The lights were on and while I wouldn’t call
them bright, they lit every inch of space and left no shadows for an infected
to be lurking in.  None of us had any clue of the interior layout, so I
just shrugged my shoulders when Drago looked at me.  His guess was as good
as mine.

Searching a
large building is a pain.  Searching a large building that might be
housing infected is a downright bitch.  It’s really no different than
clearing a structure the enemy has taken refuge in, but the psychological
stress of worrying about a female charging out of a doorway and trying to eat
you makes it seem much worse.  I guess in a way it is.  At least when
you’re hunting another man, you know he’s scared too.

We moved
down the hall, our feet silent on the deep pile carpeting.  Drago shot a
male wearing a security guard’s uniform, then a moment later another dressed in
a five-thousand-dollar suit.  Then we came to a dead end that had to be
the CEO’s suite.  Reversing directions, I was now on point and led the
small team back past the rooftop access.

There were
conference rooms.  Storage rooms.  Large offices belonging to
Directors of this and Directors of that.  Then the hall opened into a huge
reception area with a tiled floor.  A large, imposing desk guarded the corridor
we were in, tall glass doors dominating the far side of the space. 

These were
exterior doors, and I paused and stopped the team when I saw the solid wall of
infected pressed up against them.  They hadn’t seen us, so for the moment
weren’t trying to batter their way in.  I looked around for a way to cross
to another hall that led deeper into the building without the unwanted guests
spotting us.

The glass
would be thick and heavy, but I didn’t want to trust that it could withstand a
concerted attack.  If the infected broke through, well, in a word, we
would be fucked.  There were thousands, if not tens of thousands, of them
in the immediate area.  They would flood into the building and there would
be no stopping the surge until we were all dead.

But, the
problem was there was no way to transition to the other hall without strolling
across thirty yards of well lit floor.  And we’d be in full view of the
doors the whole time.  An idea occurred to me, and if there weren’t
several clocks ticking in my head at the same time I would probably have never
tried it.  Pulling back from the corner I waved the team into a tight knot
to explain what I had in mind.

“That’s
going to work?”  Chico asked when I finished.

“Got no
clue.  If you’ve got a better idea, speak up now.”

I looked at
him, watching the wheels turn behind his eyes, but he eventually shook his
head.  Glancing around, no one spoke up with an alternative suggestion.

“OK. 
Just me first.  If it works, follow me one at a time and do exactly what I
do.”

Everyone
nodded and I stood, taking a deep breath.  Turning back to face the
reception area, I let my rifle hang on its sling, adjusted my posture to
emulate an infected male, and shambled into sight of the doors. 

I’d had the
opportunity to observe a lot of males over the past few months and if I do say
so myself, I did a pretty good imitation of the way one moves.  I knew
this wouldn’t work on other males, as they’re blind as bats and couldn’t see
me.  They’d know my status simply by smell, which the glass blocked. 
But most of the faces pressed against the glass were female. 

Even though
their sense of smell was enhanced, it seemed as if they still relied primarily
on their vision to detect and identify potential prey.  If they thought I
was just another stupid male stumbling my way through the apocalypse, then
maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t be interested in smashing their way inside.

Lieutenant
Hunt sat back in frustration, resisting the impulse to bang the keyboard in
front of him.  A few hours ago he had received the codes for the Major’s
wife’s locator beacon, but hadn't been able to do anything with them.  The
satellites that would have normally broadcast the “wake up” signal were no
longer in operation.  And, even if he had enabled the tracker, the GPS
satellites that would have been used to pinpoint her location were also dead.

He had been
trying to find a way to utilize the NSA birds, which did have sophisticated
locating capabilities, but kept coming up against a brick wall.  In the
system that would broadcast the coded signal, he received an error every time
he issued the transmit command.  For about the hundredth time he glanced
over at Jessica.

She was in
the secure conference room, reading a book, while she waited for the mission to
restore power to the RWA System’s servers.  Admiral Packard had ordered
that she was not to be allowed to do anything other than complete her current
assignment.  There were just too many unanswered questions about her
motivations. 

Two Marines
stood guard outside the door, making sure she didn’t go anywhere and no one
came near her.  He had always liked the young woman, his heart going out
to her despite his anger and disappointment over her actions.  But just
like she was needed to complete the activation and deployment of the THOR
system, he acknowledged he needed her help. 

She was one
of those rare people that could look at code and actually see what it
did.  She understood security like no one he’d ever known.  There was
little doubt she could activate the signal and locate the woman they were
trying to find.

With a sigh,
he reached out and lifted the handset off his phone.  Dialing an
extension, he informed the Admiral’s aide that he was on his way and needed to
speak with Packard immediately.  The aide, aware of the critical efforts
underway in Hunt’s group, assured him he would get him in front of the Admiral
as soon as possible.

Securing his
station, he stood and strode across the room to the exit.  As he walked,
he felt Jessica’s stare, turning and meeting her eyes.  She smiled at him
and he couldn’t help but smile in return.  He really did like her, and
down deep didn’t believe she was guilty of anything other than bad judgment.

Well, that
and murder.  He mentally cringed as he pushed through the high security
door, thinking about how she’d killed the Chief Petty Officer.  Several
people had rushed to pass judgment on her after the man died.  Their
theory was that the two of them were Russian agents and she had killed him to
protect herself.  Eliminate the only person who could testify against her.

But Hunt
didn’t buy it.  If that was the case, she never would have given him up
when she first came forward.  No, this had all the appearances of a young
woman who had been used by a slightly older and much more cunning man. 

He even
understood, to a degree, why she had killed him the way she had.  Her
actions weren’t those of a spy.  They were those of a vengeful woman
seeking retribution before she was locked away.

These
thoughts swirled through his head as he crossed the base.  It was dark,
which always surprised him when he emerged from the subterranean room he worked
in.  A warm trade wind was blowing, ruffling his uniform pants about his
ankles as he walked.  It was a beautiful night and he tried to enjoy the
fresh, sea air while he had the opportunity.

Entering the
building that housed the Admiral’s office, he had to show his ID to a Marine
guard and wait while the man verified he was cleared to enter.  Passed through
the first check point, he was stopped three more times by additional
Marines.  The final checkpoint was at the entrance to the suite of offices
occupied by Packard and his staff. 

The Admiral
was walking from the small galley to his office, a cup of steaming coffee in
his hand.  Noticing the Lieutenant, he called out to the Marine to let him
through.  Tucking his ID away, Hunt entered the large space and followed
Packard when he was waved into the large office.

“What can I
do for you, Lieutenant?”  Packard lowered himself into a padded leather
chair behind a desk that seemed as massive as the deck of an aircraft carrier.

“Sir, as you
know I’m working on locating Major Chase’s wife.  Attempting to activate
the CIA locator to track her.”

“Yes, I’m
aware,” Packard said, noisily slurping coffee.

“Sir, I’m
unable to operate the NSA satellite and issue the signal to her beacon.  I
need Petty Officer Simmons’ assistance.”

Hunt hadn’t
been offered a seat, so he stood ramrod straight in front of the desk as he spoke. 
Packard took another sip from a chipped mug emblazoned with the name and number
for the USS Enterprise.  His last command before being promoted to
Admiral.

“Relax and
take a chair, Lieutenant,” Packard said after staring at the young officer for
most of a minute.

“What do you
think of all this?”  The Admiral asked.

“Sorry,
sir.  All of what?” 

Hunt thought
he knew what was being asked, but wasn’t about to start voicing an opinion only
to find out he was talking about something other than what he was being asked.

“The Petty
Officer.  The Russians.  Was she just a dupe as she claims, or was
she actively involved in passing information?”

Packard took
another loud sip, watching Hunt under his bushy, grey eyebrows.  The
Lieutenant paused for a moment to gather his thoughts and think about what he
wanted to say, feeling the weight of the Admiral’s gaze.

“Sir, if I
had to place a bet, I’d say that she was duped.  She came forward as soon
as she realized what had happened.  She didn’t have to do that, and frankly
I respect the strength of character it demonstrated.  Petty Officer
Simmons has been under my command for four years, and I have never seen
anything other than a complete devotion to duty from her.”

Packard
picked his cup off the desk and swiveled his chair until he was facing the
large window behind him.  The view was stunning in the daytime, looking
across acres of manicured, tropical landscaping and onto the blue waters of
Pearl Harbor.  Now, all that could be seen was the anchor lights of
several ships in port for repairs.

“Have you
ever heard of Chief Warrant Officer William Peele?  He was an intelligence
analyst.”

“Yes sir, I
know the name,” Hunt replied to the back of the Admiral’s chair.

“One of the
highest security clearances in the Navy.  Dealt with intelligence on
Chinese naval capabilities, keeping tabs on their buildup.  Did some
really outstanding work.  Or we thought he did.  Until we found out
he was working for the Chinese and feeding us disinformation that was
fabricated in Beijing.  He was married to a young, beautiful Chinese girl
that happened to be his handler. 

“This was
quite a few years ago, and I was at the Pentagon at the time.  Headed up
the investigation into Peele and the work to identify all of the false intel
that had affected how we prepared for a confrontation with China.  One of
the things that stands out in my mind is a conversation I had with the
Commander who was Peele’s CO.  Any idea what he told me?”

Packard
swiveled back around to face Hunt, taking a sip before placing the coffee mug
on his desk.  He watched the Lieutenant, patiently waiting for a response.

“I have no
idea, sir.”

“He said
that he believed Peele had been duped.  Used.  That he had a good
character and wouldn’t intentionally do anything to harm the US.” 

Hunt stared
back at the Admiral, thinking about what he’d just been told.

“What
happened to his wife, sir?”  Hunt asked.

Packard
looked at him for a few moments, a smile finally appearing on his face.

“He defended
her to the end.  Wouldn’t tell us where she was.  Wouldn’t cooperate
in her capture even though we offered him incentives to do so.  She got
away.  Back to China.  A few years later she was spotted at an event
in Beijing that was attended by our Ambassador and some of his staff.  She
was on the arm of one of their senior Admirals.”

Hunt sat
perfectly straight in the chair, hoping he’d made his point with the
Admiral.  He had recognized Peele’s name as soon as Packard mentioned
it.  The Navy had kept the whole incident very quiet and the press had
never gotten a whiff. 

A week after
graduating from the Naval Academy in Annapolis, Hunt had been assigned to a
Naval Intelligence unit in Little Creek, Virginia.  The same unit Peele
had worked for.  He’d heard the story from the inside.

 “Very
well,” Packard said after staring at him for an uncomfortable stretch of
time.  “She can help.”

“Thank you,
sir!”

Hunt stood,
coming to attention.  He had gotten what he came for and was ready to get
the hell out of the Admiral’s office.

“I like her,
too,” Packard said.  “But don’t let your personal feelings cloud your
judgment, Lieutenant.  Dismissed.”

Hunt thanked
him again, turned and fought the urge to run as he headed for the door.