Precipice: V Plague Book 9 (5 page)

It was dark
and the wind howled, but we were warm and toasty with the fire burning in the
fireplace.  Clouds had moved in about an hour before sunset, bringing more
snow with them.  We had sat near the heat and eaten a cold meal of MREs
and some canned beans Rachel had found in the kitchen.  Conversation was
at a minimum as none of us felt much like talking.

Dog nudged
my arm after we finished dinner to let me know he needed to go outside.  I
didn’t mind as our perimeter needed to be checked, and I also wanted to see if
there was an update from Jessica.  I grabbed the sat phone off the kitchen
counter, shrugged into my cold weather gear, made sure I had all my weapons and
they were ready to go then walked out onto the patio.

The wind hit
me directly in the face.  Heavy, wet snow was falling and it immediately
began to stick to the outer layer of my clothing.  I pulled my hood up to
protect my head, unhappy at how much it restricted my field of vision and
reduced my hearing.  Oh well, I’d just better be extra careful.

While Dog
limped out into the snow to find a spot, I moved to an area with a clear shot
at the sky and dialed Hawaii. 

“Hi, sir,”
Jessica answered on the first ring.  “I’ve been trying to call you.”

“No signal
indoors,” I replied.  “Something wrong?”

“No. 
But I’ve got a plan to get you to Seattle.  Want me to text it to you?”

“Yes, but go
ahead and tell me,” I said, glad there was finally some good news.

“OK. 
If I go too fast let me know.  First, the infected are clearing out of the
Twin Falls area faster than expected, so you should be able to pass through by
mid-morning tomorrow.  Your time, not mine.”

“Do we know
where they’re headed?”  I asked.

“They’re
following Interstate 84.  Salt Lake City, maybe.  My CO is thinking
the Russians are drawing them into an area that’s geographically isolated and
going to leave them there until they starve to death.  Maybe, but I’m not
so sure.  Every time they’ve moved a herd, there’s been a tactical
objective.”

“There’s no
one left alive in that area, is there?”

“Not that
we’re aware of.  Don’t know how there could be.  Anyway, if you head
out right after dawn, Twin Falls should be mostly clear by the time you
arrive.  There might be some stragglers, but nothing that should stop
you.  Definitely check with me before you start in case something changes
overnight.

“Once you
get to Twin Falls you’re going to head due west onto an unmaintained
road.  The snow stops about thirty miles south of your current location so
you’ll be out of the worst of the weather.  It’s raining south of you and
the road is probably muddy, but nothing that Jeep can’t handle.  You’re
heading across southern Idaho for Oregon, and the first town you’ll encounter
is Dickshooter.”

“Seriously?” 
I couldn’t help but grin.

“Seriously,”
she said and I could hear the smile in her voice.  “I had to check it
twice, but that’s really its name.  There are three houses and that’s
it.  A few infected wandering around, but not enough to worry about. 
And there’s several vehicles you can get gas from to top off your tank.”

Dog had
finished his business and slowly made his way to where I was standing in the
shelter provided by the house.  The snow was shoulder deep to him and it
was a struggle, but he finally made it and gingerly sat down with his side
against my leg.

“From there
you’ll keep going west into Oregon until you reach Basque, then you’re back on
pavement.  Turn northwest to go through Bend and cross the mountains, then
pass through Salem on your way to the coast.  There’s infected in Salem,
but it looks passable if you keep moving and don’t do anything to attract their
attention.

“I’m sending
you all the way to the coast so you can bypass Portland.  It’s big and
there’s still a lot of infected there.  When you get to Astoria, there’s a
bridge that crosses the Columbia River into Washington.  It’s intact, and
there’s several wrecks on it that you’ll have to clear, but you won’t have any
problems finding a tow truck in town.

“Once you’re
across you’ll follow the coast for a few more miles then start angling inland
to go around Puget Sound.  You’ll come into Olympia, about 60 miles south
of Seattle, and have to go up I-5.  It’s all city and there’s enough
infected to pose a problem if you’re not careful.  Here’s the worst news,
though.  The Russians have taken over McChord Air Force Base and the
Interstate goes right by it.”

“That’s not
good,” I said.  “There’s no other way around?”

“The only
other option is to stay on the western peninsula and find a boat you can use to
cross Puget Sound into Seattle.  But the Russians are thick on the
waterfront.  Right now they’re unloading several troop carrier
ships.  Besides, you’ll be stuck without wheels once you get off the
boat.  I think you’re better off to go up I-5 and move onto the local
streets to get past McChord.”

“OK, I’ll
deal with it and make the call when I get into the area.  Anything
else?”  I was shivering from the wind and ready to head back inside.

“That’s it,
sir.  Good luck and don’t forget to call me before you head out.” 
She said, sounding way too chipper.

“Thanks,
Jessica.  Talk to you in the morning.”

I ended the
call, ruffled Dog’s ears and took five minutes to walk the perimeter before
heading back inside to fill the girls in on what we were doing.

“How long is
that going to take?”  Katie asked when I described the route we were using.

“I didn’t
ask.  Don’t even know how many miles it is,” I said, looking down and
opening the text from Jessica that detailed the route.

“Twelve
hundred miles, more or less,” I said.  “And a good chunk of it is on dirt
roads until we’re well into Oregon.  Probably not a bad thing.  It
will keep us in the middle of nowhere and hopefully unnoticed by the Russians.”

“Maybe you
should try to get through to Seattle and talk to them,” Rachel said. 
“Tell them what we’re worried about.”

I thought
about that for a minute before responding.

“Are they
going to be able to do any more than speculate until they can run some
tests?”  I asked.  Rachel shook her head.

“And they
won’t stop working just because of a phone call from me, especially when we
don’t even know if we need to be concerned.  I think I’d rather just show
up and not give them advance warning of why we’re coming.  If I need to
shut them down, then I’ll deal with that when we get there.” 

“I already
told you, you can’t do that,” Katie said.

“Can, and
will,” I said with complete certainty in my voice.  “If it’s choosing
between you and the Terminator virus, there is no choice.”

I woke in
the leather chair the following morning as the sun was starting to lighten the
eastern horizon.  During the night the storm had passed, the clouds moving
out and the temperature plummeting.  Standing stiffly, I tiptoed to the bathroom
in the hall so I didn’t wake the girls.  Katie was sprawled in the same
leather chair she’d been sitting in the night before, her feet up on an ottoman
and a heavy blanket pulled tight around her shoulders.  Rachel had
stretched out on the sofa and was snoring softly, on her side facing the back.

Relieving
myself, I poured water from the bucket into the bowl to flush the toilet and
returned to the great room.  I took a few minutes to add wood to the fire,
which was not much more than coals after having gone untended for several
hours.  Soon it was blazing away, warming the room and I waved Dog to
follow me outside.  He stood, shook gingerly and sneezed twice before
making his way to the back door.

He went
outside with me and plowed into the freshly fallen snow.  I was pleased to
see that he seemed to be moving with greater strength than the previous
day.  Lighting a cigarette, I stepped to the side of the patio and checked
the thermometer.  Eight degrees!  Fuck me but I missed Arizona.

While Dog
took care of things I placed a quick call to Jessica.  I wrapped up the
conversation as Dog returned to the patio and we walked back in the
house.  I woke the girls, getting groans and complaints from both, but
soon they were up and moving.  Biological needs attended to, they set
about preparing a meager breakfast while Dog and I went to the garage to check
the Jeep.

Fluid levels
were good, except for gas.  When I turned the ignition to on to look at
the gauge, I wasn’t happy to see it just slightly above the big, red “E”. 
The garage was large, four stalls for vehicles, and in the farthest one sat a
fairly new Chevy Tahoe.  I walked over and checked it, but couldn’t find
its keys.  Deciding it was worth the effort, I dug the pump and hoses out
of the back of the Jeep and got everything hooked up to siphon fuel.

It must have
been close to full as I was able to top off the Jeep, shutting down the pump
when gas gushed out onto the epoxy-coated floor.  Re-stowing the fueling
gear I thumped the spare cans on the back of the Jeep with my finger, glad they
were still full.  I took another minute to check over the tires, then got
on my back and slithered underneath to make sure nothing had been damaged on
our trek into the mountains.

Satisfied
our vehicle was as ready as it would ever be, I put the sat phone on the charger
and went back into the house.  Katie and Rachel had already finished
eating and had all of our packs stacked by the garage door and ready to
go.  Two-thirds of a cold MRE waited for me on the kitchen table. 
Sitting down, I began eating the bland, calorie dense food.

“Did you
talk to Jessica?”  Katie asked.

“Yep,” I
said around a mouthful of lemon pepper tuna.  “Infected are mostly clear
of Twin Falls.  Good thing we’re leaving, too.  Big Russian presence
up in the mountains.  Six helos looking for something.  I’m just glad
we’re going the other way.”

“Could they
be looking for us?”  Rachel asked before Katie could speak up.

“Maybe, but
I don’t know how they’d know to look here,” I said, wiping my mouth and leaving
the trash from my meal on the table as I stood. 

With a sigh,
Katie stepped forward, scooped it up and dumped it in a waste can under the
kitchen sink.  I just looked at her for a long moment.

“Someday
we’ll have a house again, and we’re not going to start bad habits.”  She
said defensively.

“Yes, dear,”
I grinned, grabbed my pack and weapons and headed for the garage.

Tossing my
pack in the back of the Jeep, I muscled the garage door open while Katie and
Rachel loaded theirs.  Rachel climbed in back and left the door open,
calling Dog, but he just stood there looking at her.  He wouldn’t jump
up.  I bent and carefully scooped him into my arms and set him on the
seat.  Katie closed the door and got in front while I walked around and
took the driver’s seat.

The Jeep
started easily despite the frigid temperature in the garage.  I gave it a
couple of minutes for the engine to warm up before backing out.  I was
twenty yards down the driveway when I looked into the mirror and braked to a
halt.  Jumping out I ran back and lowered the garage door.

“Why?” 
Katie asked when I was back behind the wheel.

“Keep the
infected out in case there’s other survivors that need a place to lay up for a
while.”

I didn’t
really think there were any other people left alive and uninfected other than
the Russians, but why not put something in the bank of good karma?

Nothing was
moving as we made our way into town and turned south.  The snow was deep,
over the Jeep’s front bumper, but somehow it managed to maintain enough
traction to bull its way through.  As I drove I glanced in the mirror and
wasn’t happy to see the very noticeable sign of our passage that we were
leaving, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.  I would be glad
once we were farther south and out of the snow and not creating a trail that
stood out like a neon sign.

Most of two
hours later the blanket of snow had disappeared as we continued to lose
elevation.  The temperature had climbed to just above freezing and I was
finally able to turn down the Jeep’s heater.  We pushed on and I increased
our speed, but still maintained a sedate pace out of fear of encountering black
ice on the road’s surface.

As we drew
closer to Twin Falls, infected began appearing.  Every one that we saw was
slowly moving to the west.  Occasionally one would be near enough the
highway for us to get a good look and they weren’t in good shape.  Both
the males and females were gaunt, trudging along on their mission.  Many
had horrific injuries that defied their ability to still be on their
feet. 

“Maybe this
is a good sign,” Rachel said from the backseat when we passed a female that was
too weak to do any more than walk at a fast shuffle as she tried to catch us.

“What do you
mean?”  I asked, steering around a male that was just standing in the
middle of the road.

“They don’t
look healthy.  Maybe the lack of food and water is starting to take its
toll on their bodies.”

“Or maybe
they were in bad shape before they became infected,” Katie said.  Neither
Rachel nor I had a good answer to that.

As we pushed
deeper into the city we encountered more of the slower infected.  I did my
best to avoid hitting any of them with the Jeep, but occasionally had to knock
some out of our path.  They were thickest around the interchange with
Interstate 84, giving me no option other than to push through and trust the
heavy winch bumper to protect the radiator and engine from damage.

“Where’s our
turn?”  I asked Katie who was holding the sat phone and reading the route
directions.

“Twelve
point two miles south of the Interstate,” she said.  I reset the trip
odometer and slowed to plow through another group of tightly massed infected.

We stopped
for fuel at the same station I’d used when we first arrived in Twin
Falls.  Katie and Rachel stood watch while I hooked up the pump and
checked the oil.  The Jeep was a thirsty beast when operating in four-wheel
drive and churning through snow, having used over half a tank to get us down
out of the mountains.

As I was
packing the pump and hoses away a distant sound caught my attention. 
Stopping what I was doing I cocked my head and listened, but it didn’t repeat.

“What?” 
Katie asked quietly.

“Thought I
head a rotor,” I said softly, closing my eyes and concentrating. 

I gave it
close to half a minute, but didn’t hear the sound again.  It had almost
certainly been a man made noise, but I couldn’t swear it was a rotor. 
With Russians in the neighborhood, however, odds were it was and the faster we
got out of the area the better.