Precipice: V Plague Book 9 (23 page)

It had been
a busy afternoon.  Once I had gotten my emotions under control over seeing
Katie and the other women in Grushkin’s hands, I was able to start putting
together a plan.  A large part of that had been getting Titus to show me
how to operate the surveillance system so I didn’t have to wait while he clicked
one key at a time.

I started
tracking the Russian’s patrol patterns.  Watched as they continued their
building to building search of the town.  It wasn’t a large town, by any
means, but there were still a lot of houses and businesses for them to search. 
As the afternoon wore on and troops were rotated in and out of the search, the
ones taking a break began congregating at a large, buffet style
restaurant.  I couldn’t see inside, but assumed they had found some food
that hadn’t spoiled and were taking full advantage of not having to eat whatever
is the Russian equivalent of an MRE.

The
restaurant would be my first target.  An opportunity to take a large
number of the enemy off the table at once.  I got Titus to open the vault
door and quietly went up to the sporting goods store over our heads.  With
several bags heavily loaded, I returned and set to work at the kitchen table.

Taking out a
large back pack I opened it up and discarded the wads of crumpled paper that
were used as filler while it was on display.  I dumped another bag onto
the table, dozens of packages of lead sinkers used for fishing spilling out
onto the surface.  Opening them one by one, I dumped the contents into the
bottom of the pack, going until I had about fifteen pounds of lead balls
ranging in size from a quarter of an inch to three quarters of an inch.

Getting up
from the table I went to the armory and grabbed what I needed, returning to the
kitchen where Titus was eyeing what I was doing with a curious expression on
his face.  When he saw the two bricks of C-4 explosive in my hand he
nodded and grinned.

It only took
me a couple of moments to unwrap them.  Working the putty like substance
with my hands, I created a two-and-a-half-pound ball.  Titus’s son-in-law
had also stolen a good supply of wireless detonators and I inserted two of
these on opposite sides of the sphere.  Only one was needed to set it
off.  Two were in case one of them failed.

Placing the
C-4 into the pack on top of the thousands of lead balls, I paused a
moment.  Once I covered the top, the detonators would be surrounded by
lead.  The radio signal to trigger the bomb wouldn’t penetrate lead. 

“What’s the
problem?”  Titus asked after a few minutes of me sitting there trying to
think of a solution.

When I told
him he grunted and went into the armory, returning with an extension
cord.  He quickly cut the insulation off, exposing the copper wire and
stripped out a few feet.  Wrapping each detonator with the bare wire, he
cut two tiny slits in the sides of the pack and pushed the other ends
through.  The copper would act as antennas, pick up the signal and carry
it to the detonators.

Problem
solved, he helped me open the rest of the packages and dump their contents into
the pack.  For good measure I added a large box of fish hooks and to top
it off piled in a bunch of pocket knives and razor sharp steel arrowheads.  Zipping
the pack, I hoisted it up, satisfied that it was coming in at well over forty
pounds.

Now, two and
a half pounds of C-4 is one hell of a lot.  For reference, there’s only
about six ounces of explosive in a hand grenade.  It uses a different
formula for the boom stuff, but it has almost identical performance.  So,
roughly seven times the explosive force of a grenade with about forty-five
pounds of really nasty metal objects that would become shrapnel traveling at
26,000 feet per second.  Yep.  That should do nicely.

Bomb ready,
it was time to start the rest of my preparations.  It was early evening by
now and the rain I had hoped for had started.  Not heavy, nothing that
should make the tunnels impassable, just a slow and steady drizzle that created
a level of white noise in the environment that would help me.  Also, when
humans are out moving in the rain we tend to turtle our heads a little bit and
not be as aware of our surroundings.  I was counting on the Russian troops
being a little bored and with the weather, giving in to the urge to only worry
about what was directly in front of their feet.

Before I
finished prepping, I stepped into the surveillance room to check on the
girls.  I had left one of the cameras focused on them, zoomed as much as
it would.  Martinez had lapsed into unconsciousness and no longer able to
continue supporting her weight, Katie and Rachel had moved slightly away from
her.  They as well as Irina were soaked and looked exhausted.

My jaw was
clenched so tight it ached as I tore myself away and started dressing. 
Titus’ son-in-law hadn’t skimped on letting the US taxpayer supply his
shelter.  Shedding the Air Force uniform I’d taken from the BX, I dressed
in black, weather-proof, rip stop gear from head to toe.  The fabric was
lightweight yet warm and stretched in all the right places.

Next came
elbow, forearm, knee and shin pads.  Body armor layered on top of
this.  Not that it would necessarily stop a round from one of the Russian
rifles, but it had a chance and would certainly stop any pistol rounds that
came my way.  A new, black tactical vest loaded down with spare magazines,
a knife, my Kukri, my pistol and rifle and I already had fifty pounds on my
body.

Adding an
encrypted radio so I could communicate with Titus, who would be keeping an eye
on things from the shelter, I pulled on a Kevlar helmet with night vision
goggles attached.  A black nylon pack held the remaining two bricks of
C-4, detonators, six claymore mines, a cleverly designed collapsible aluminum
ladder and maps of the tunnels and town above.  Ready as I’d ever be, I
mused that this was the best equipped I’d been since the day of the attacks.

“’member
what I tole you,” Titus said, looking me up and down.  “If I call you on
the radio and say get out of the tunnels, you get your ass out fast.  Just
‘cause it ain’t rainin’ heavy here don’t mean it ain’t pourin to the
north.  That water’s got to go somewhere.  I’ll keep a close eye on
it and give you as much warning as I can.”

“I don’t
know how to thank you.  For everything,” I said, extending my hand.

“Every one
of them commie bastards you put down is thanks enough,” he took my hand and shook
it.  “Good luck to you, son.  Hope you save your wife.”

I nodded and
a few moments later slipped into the tunnel when he opened the vault door.

It was much
darker in the tunnel than when Titus and I had taken our tour earlier in the
day.  With the clouds and rain it was going to be a very dark night, and
dark would come earlier than normal.  There wouldn’t be a long, drawn out
twilight as is common in the more northern latitudes.  That was fine with
me.  The darker the night, the better the hunting.

There was a
stream about two inches deep and a foot-wide running in the lowest part of the
tunnel floor.  The debris catchers created a whooshing sound as the water
passed through them, and the old detritus I’d noted earlier was causing the
water to pool up in places.  Nothing that would even remotely be a problem
as long as I didn’t get careless and step on something in the water and turn an
ankle.

I had
memorized the route I wanted to take for my first task.  Turning, I
lowered the night vision goggles and began moving north.  The goggles
turned night to day, well a day of greens and blacks, but I was able to see
perfectly.  I was more than thrilled to have them.

Staying
close to the wall as I moved, I frequently checked behind me.  To assume
the Russians hadn’t found the tunnels and decided to search them could be a
fatal error.  We hadn’t seen any indication, but it was still better to
proceed as if there was going to be a squad of Ivans around every bend.

“Radio
check,” I heard Titus’ voice in my ear before I’d gone ten yards.

“All good,”
I replied.

He didn’t
say anything else.  There was no need, and I was glad to not have the
distraction of a voice in my ear while I was trying to move quietly and keep an
eye out for the enemy.

I walked for
five minutes before reaching the tunnel where I would turn.  Stopping
before the edge, I held up a small makeup mirror that had belonged to Titus’
wife.  Easing it out past the corner, I checked the next tunnel, happy to
see it just as empty.  Continuing to move like this took me another
fifteen minutes to reach my destination.  At least I hoped I had reached
my destination.  The bottom of one manhole cover looks pretty much like
the bottom of every other one.

Sitting my
supply pack down I took out the ladder and began locking it open like Titus had
shown me.  As each section telescoped out of the last and clicked into
place, it grew in length.  The whole thing was nine feet long when fully
deployed yet only weighed eight pounds.  Titus had assured me it was
capable of holding three hundred pounds.  I was dubious, but was about to
find out.  With all my gear, plus the bomb, I was certainly tipping the
scales at over 300.

I looked up
and spotted the two eyebolts set into the iron ring that formed the hole in the
asphalt where the cover rested.  The ladder had a hook on the top of each
rail and slipped into place easily, the bottom swinging about a foot above the
tunnel floor.  Taking a deep breath, I grasped a rung above my head, put a
foot on the lowest one and brought all my weight onto the thin aluminum.

The rung
under my feet bowed slightly as the whole thing swung like a pendulum because
of the change in the center of gravity when I stepped on.  But, it
held.  Making sure my feet were as close to the vertical rails as possible
to minimize the stress on the horizontal rungs, I bounced a couple of
times.  If the damn thing was going to break, I’d rather it happen when I
was only a foot above the hard concrete.

But it
held.  It swayed like I used to around closing time on a Saturday night,
but it didn’t bend and didn’t break.  Despite Titus’ assurances, I was
surprised, but it was time to go to work and quit fucking around with a
ladder.  Climbing carefully, I stopped when my head was bent so that my
shoulder was brushing the ceiling.

“Titus, you
copy?”  I breathed into the radio.

“Go ahead.”

“Getting
ready to move the cover.” 

I had asked
him to keep a camera on the man hole I had picked out as my first target. 
Since it was too easy to get confused in the tunnels, I wanted confirmation
from him that I was at the right spot, and that there weren’t any infected or
Russians in the immediate area.

“Area’s
clear,” he said a moment later.

Holding
tight with my left hand, I placed my right hand flat against the bottom of the
cast iron plate.  Cringing, expecting the ladder to snap at any moment and
send me tumbling, I pressed against the manhole cover.  As I pushed harder
the ladder creaked, but it held.  Exerting more force, I felt the big disc
begin to move.

“I see you
wiggling,” Titus said, confirming for me I was at the right location.

As carefully
as I could, I pushed until an edge was higher than the surrounding asphalt,
then began shifting my arm sideways.  The cover made a slight scraping
sound and I immediately stopped, changed the position of my hand before continuing. 
This time I moved it several inches to the side without any sound, then had to
pause to reposition my hand again.

Moving the
damn thing was hard enough.  Moving it without making a sound that would
give me away was exponentially more difficult.  My shoulders and triceps
were on fire, but there wasn’t any other way to do this.  Breathing hard,
I kept at it until the cover was far enough out of place for me to slip
through.

It would
have been nice to shed the vest and body armor to make myself smaller.  I
wouldn’t have had to move the cover all the way open.  But there’s not
much point in having body armor if you don’t wear it.  Besides, a little
workout for the shoulders and arms never hurt anyone.

Climbing on
up the ladder I quickly emerged, immediately dropping to a knee and scanning a
full circle with my rifle.  I was in an alley, the tunnel cutting across
this area of town.  Nothing was moving and other than the soft patter of a
slow rain, it was quiet.  I made one more scan, then leaving the cover
open I ran for my target.

One hundred
yards from where I’d emerged I came to a stop against the back wall of the
restaurant that had become the Russians’ informal mess hall.  Sliding to
the edge, I looked towards the front, seeing five soldiers walking away from
the building.  They had just left and were striding quickly, not talking,
heads down in the rain. 

Titus knew
the restaurant and had hand drawn me a rough sketch of the place.  There
were two doors that opened onto the alley.  One of them into the kitchen,
the other a large pantry that could accept food deliveries directly so they
didn’t disrupt the cooks.  There was an interior door from the pantry into
the kitchen, and just to its right was a swinging door that opened into the
main dining area.

Stepping
back to the pantry’s exterior door I gently tried the knob.  It didn’t
turn, and unsurprisingly there was a high quality lock.  I could force my
way in, but not without too much noise.

“Patrol
behind you, to your left.”  Titus spoke in my ear.

Before he
finished speaking I had dropped to a knee, brought my rifle up and was scanning
down the alley in the direction of the man hole I’d come out of.  Two
Russians were about fifty yards on the opposite side of my escape hatch, slowly
working their way closer. 

They were
checking vehicles by shining a light inside each one, then bending down and
checking under.  Everything about the way they moved said they’d been
doing this too long and they didn’t expect to find anything.  They were
bored, tired and probably cold and hungry.  Maybe I’d get really lucky and
they would walk right past the open hole in the ground.

Not willing
to trust in luck, I moved a quick fifty yards closer to them, sticking to the
edge of the alley and keeping dumpsters and abandoned vehicles between them and
me.  Reaching the location I’d selected before I started moving, I came to
a stop behind an ancient Chevy truck.  It was parked tight against a thick
hedge and I’d squeezed in between the shrub and the truck’s front fender.

With the
dark bush behind me and the rusting truck hiding all but my head, shoulders and
rifle, they wouldn’t spot me unless they happened to shine a light directly on
where I was waiting for them.  I didn’t plan to kill them unless they
discovered the open man hole or me.  I wasn’t quite ready to announce that
I’d showed up and brought party favors.  But they didn’t give me a choice
when the one with the light came to a sudden stop and aimed the beam directly
at the hole.

I was
already on target and all I had to do was pull the trigger.  The Russian’s
head snapped to the side and he fell with a clatter of weapons and the flashlight
hit the asphalt.  Shifting aim, I put three rounds in his buddy’s chest as
he tried to dive behind a car.  He flopped to the ground and didn’t move,
but to be thorough I drilled a round through his skull.

A very long
time ago in… well, it doesn’t matter where.  Anyway, I was there at the
behest of the US Government.  As usual, gunfire was involved and I put
four rounds, center mass, into a bad guy.  He went down and I dismissed
him, certain he was dead.  When I took my attention off of him he sat up
and nearly took my head off with an AK-47 before one of my team mates scrambled
his brains.

My body
shots, which I’m pretty sure would have been fatal, weren’t instantly
incapacitating.  The human body really is amazingly resilient when the
whole fight or flight mechanism kicks in and the adrenaline is pumping. 
And I learned my lesson that day.  Fortunately, it didn’t cost anyone
other than the bad guy.

Rushing
around the hood of the truck, I scanned each direction of the alley as I ran to
the two bodies.  Not seeing anything, I grabbed the first guy by the ankle
and dragged him to the open man hole and unceremoniously shoved his body
through.  A second later I heard the splash and thud when he landed on the
tunnel floor.  The second guy followed quickly and I made sure to gather
up the flashlight and a couple of other pieces of their equipment and toss it
all down the hole with them.

The rain was
already taking care of the blood, but I was getting antsy.  I’d already
been in one spot for too long.  Running back to the restaurant, I paused a
second, took two deep breaths and tried the kitchen.  The knob turned
easily, the lock disengaging and the door moving slightly towards me. 
Pulling it open in one fast motion, I snapped my rifle up and stared through the
scope into the building.

Several
battery powered lanterns provided light, my NVGs automatically adjusting for
the added illumination.  No one was in the kitchen, but it was littered
with opened cans and boxes of food.  Apparently there wasn’t a “cook”, just
each soldier came in, found what he wanted and prepared it.  Stepping
inside I scanned again, double checking and finding nothing, then began moving
to the swinging door that opened to the dining area.

I was
halfway across the kitchen when the door was thrust open and a young kid
wearing a Russian army uniform stepped through.  OK, maybe he wasn’t that
young, but I’ve got more hair on my knuckles than he did on his face.  He
wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings and had walked all the way into the
room, the door closing behind him, before he saw me.

He froze,
his eyes opening wide and he started to open his mouth to shout.  I shot
him between the eyes from eight feet, lunging forward so his body didn’t fall
and make a racket that would bring his buddies to see what was going on. 
Supporting the corpse with my left arm and pressing it to me like I was holding
a lover, I kept the rifle up and aimed at the door with my right hand as I back
pedaled to the alley.  Reaching the door, I dumped him into the night,
wiped his blood off my hand and moved back towards the dining area.

Titus had
told me that the swinging door looked like it had a mirror in it if you’re in
the dining room, but it was actually a two-way mirror so the cook or manager
could keep an eye on the buffet line without the diners seeing them peering
through.  Stepping up to the inside of the door I still stepped to the
side and carefully peeked.

There were
probably close to a hundred Russian soldiers spread across the dining
room.  Some were eating, some smoking and even a couple of them
sleeping.  As I watched, more came in the front door and paused to shake the
rain off their shoulders.  I needed to do what I came for and get the hell
out of there. 

Taking the
back pack that contained the bomb off my shoulders, I gently pushed the
swinging door open far enough to fit it through the opening.  Placing it
on the floor, against the wall, I stuck my arm a little farther in and shoved
it into the shadows.  Carefully I let the door close, then turned and ran
as several soldiers began heading for the kitchen.  They weren’t shouting
and raising their weapons so I was pretty sure they were only coming to find
food.

Dashing
through the exterior door I had to kick the body of the kid I’d shot out of the
way before closing it quietly.  Grabbing the corpse’s ankle, I dragged it
to the man hole, shoving it through then following.  Getting the cover
back in place was easier than it had been opening it, but a little battle
induced adrenaline will give you a good burst of strength.