Up From the Depths (24 page)

“Sir. Yes sir.” Damon saluted sharply, did a parade ground about face and left. Mattox’s thoughts were brought back to the present as his LAV lurched through a roadside ditch then up the other side. He turned and looked off to his right. The shape of one of his scout’s LAV-R could be seen as it moved through a cornfield. Looking back, he gripped the edges of his hatch and lowered himself inside.

“Gunny, call up a map of the southwest. We’re looking for someplace defendable and out of the way.”

“Aye, sir.”

Mattox looked at the maps. Going directly south would bring them too close to Wichita. Not something he was eager to do again. Heading southwest looked more promising.

“Relay this to all units. We’re heading for the Oklahoma panhandle.”

“Copy that, sir.”

***

Chapter 53

Buttermilk Channel, New York City

Governor’s Island encompasses 172 acres of land. It has had an eventful history and the most current use, emergency shelter for the displaced persons from Manhattan Island and a field expedient medical center were the most recent addition to that history.

Warrant Office Dayna Doyle watched the island grow larger as the RHIB neared it. She knew that the island had become a processing center, resupply point, and field hospital at the start of the outbreak. Now, as the boat slowed and nudged the dock, she saw soldiers on the shoreline walking patrol behind a wall of sand bags and concertina wire.

She glanced over at Sergeant Graham who after the nuclear detonations had remained sitting with his head bowed, not looking around or even speaking. She still held Pruitt’s hand unaware of when she had grabbed it. The US Navy personnel on the dock took the boat’s lines and tied it off.

“We have a wounded man here,” the coxswain said and he checked the lines and climbed out of the RHIB.

The sailors on the dock reached down and grabbed Pruitt’s stretcher pulling it up to the dock level. Doyle released his hand and watched as he was gently lifted up and placed on the concrete. She climbed up and looked back at Graham who hadn’t moved.

“Sergeant. Sergeant!” she said. Graham jerked as if being awoken from a deep sleep and looked up at her with a blank stare.

“Sergeant, you have a wounded man here that needs treatment,” she said.

“Ma’am,” a new voice said. Doyle turned and looked at the new arrival; he was just draping a stethoscope around his neck.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. This man is dead.”

Doyle closed her eyes tight, ground her teeth and clenched her hands into fists. A few calming breaths later, and she relaxed. Opening her eyes to look at the US Navy Corpsman, she nodded.

“I understand. Who’s in charge here?”

“Major Thompson, ma’am,” one of the sailors volunteered.

“I need to see him.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the corpsman said. “You have to go through processing first then you can see him.”

“Processing?”

“Yes, ma’am. Everyone who comes in from over there needs to be processed and screened. So far, we haven’t had any signs of infection.”

“Let’s get that started then,” Doyle said. “Lead the way.”

***

Chapter 54

Brooks Mountain Range, Alaska

Shark Platoon exited the main facility with their prisoners. The three researchers related to the SEALs that they had been afraid of the mercenaries that Conley had used for security. The hired guns were more like school yard bullies than professional soldiers. The scientists had been forced to scurry like insects between their living quarters and labs for fear they would be stopped and forced to do something demeaning. Even though they had their hands zip tied behind them, the researchers acted as if it was just a mild inconvenience. They had been talking non-stop once they realized that they were being ‘rescued’.

Willis shook his head then pushed past the civilians and headed for the hangar. Ranger elements had taken over searching the rest of the mountain complex while the rest of their unit was providing airfield security and support. Entering into the hangar, Willis looked for O’Toole.

Stepping carefully past the now dried fire fighting foam that had been used on the aircraft tug, he finally saw ODA-141 gathered at the far end of the building, seated or standing around a collection of wooden crates. This was the area that the support element had emptied the cargo sleds.

“Captain!” Willis called as he approached. O’Toole looked up from where he was loading magazines and nodded. “Heard you found a possible high value prisoner,” Willis stated.

O’Toole nodded his head.

“Not what we thought,” he said focusing on loading another magazine.

“What do you mean?” Willis asked.

“The man we found proved to be not so high value and more like highly useless,” O’Toole said.

Willis looked around the hangar then over to where the three prisoners that his team had collected sat.

“Who was he?” he asked.

“No one important,” O’Toole said not looking up from his loading.

“How do you know?” Willis asked incredulously.

“I had a deep, meaningful conversation with him. He had nothing to tell me so I let him go,” O’Toole stated flatly.

“You let him go? Where did he go?” Willis asked slowly before he looked out the open hanger doors realizing what O’Toole meant.

“It’s ten below out there,” Willis stated matter-of-factly.

O’Toole finished loading the magazine, tucking it into a pouch on his vest as he stood and faced Willis.

“He’s not noticing it,” O’Toole said.

Willis studied the other man’s face for a few tense seconds then nodded, understanding what O’Toole meant.

“Let’s take a walk,” Willis suggested.

O’Toole nodded, picked up a bulging OD green bag as the two men walked to the open doors and stood looking out at the airfield.

“Okay,” Willis finally said. “You did what you had to do. I can’t fault you for it, shit happens, heat of the moment and all that shit.”

O’Toole was silent.

“We’ve both been in situations where things have moved beyond our control,” Willis said.

“Overtaken by events, I believe the phrase is,” O’Toole finally said looking out at the clearing sky and burning fuel tanks.

Willis looked sideways at the Special Forces officer.

“Did you recover anything from your prisoner before he proved useless?” Willis asked.

O’Toole handed him the OD bag.

“Found this in his office. Looks like it might have something worthwhile in it,” O’Toole said.

Willis took the bag without comment.

The two men stood there for several more minutes in silence before Willis turned to O’Toole and extended his hand.

“Good working with you, Captain,” he said.

O’Toole looked down at the hand then shook it.

“Same here, Lieutenant,”

The sound of aircraft overhead made them look back outside. An Air Force dark gray MC-130 Combat Talon broke out of the clouds, lined up on the runway and landed, throwing up snow in its path as it slowed then taxied towards the hangar.

Behind it, another C-130, this one camouflaged settled in and landed, taxiing to a parking spot. The side door of the MC-130 opened, disgorging a squad of Air Force Security Police who flanked the colonel that had given their briefing back at Eielson.

“Looks like our ride’s here,” O’Toole commented.

The sky, though overcast, was beginning to clear exposing the first few rays of sunlight.

A new day was dawning.

The colonel walked quickly over to the two men, his head turning to take in as much as he could of the complex.

“Good to see you boys!” he greeted them excitedly, shaking their hands. “This is more than we envisioned. I hear we have you to thank for netting us a prisoner.”

Willis glanced at O’Toole.

“Sorry sir, there must have been some kind of communications mix-up. Sun spots bouncing off Venus or something like that. We only recovered a few of the scientists that were part of the project,” Willis explained.

The colonel looked at Willis then at O’Toole.

“Is that true, Captain? I heard that we had captured the possible mastermind behind all this,” the senior officer stated looking hard at O’Toole.

“Sir,” O’Toole said. “I haven’t seen anyone matching that description. All we have are those three over there and they know where the Virus Vault is.” He pointed to the prisoners that the SEALs had secured and were now being watched by a squad of Rangers.

The colonel looked across the hangar to where O’Toole was indicating then back at the two SOF officers. He studied both of them then nodded.

“I see. Must have been the tail end of that blizzard that garbled the radio communications,” he said not all that convinced. “Or something like that,” he added eyeing the two special operators.

Neither of the other officers made any comment.

“Here sir, you might find this enlightening,” Willis said as he handed the colonel the bag. The Intelligence officer opened it and looked inside.

“Excellent, excellent,” he said as he reached in and paged through the files before handing the bag to his aide.

“You men are heroes, your actions today were exemplary,” the colonel stated looking hard at them once more before motioning his detail towards the prisoners.

O’Toole and Willis turned to watch him leave.

“Heroes are remembered, but legends never die,” O’Toole commented wryly.

***

Chapter 55

Star Valley Ranch, Wyoming

“Hey Top!” Valdez yelled. “We got something!”

Hathaway jogged in from the spare room, rifle in hand then stopped in the kitchen.

“What is it?” he asked, automatically looking at the windows and doors.

“Here,” Valdez said, pointing at the laptop. Hathaway looked at the screen. In the upper right corner there was a digital clock that was counting down while the image CONUS filled the rest of the screen. The image slowly moved from east to west with a series of numbers over large cities. Behind him, Hathaway heard Axtell and Brandon arrive in the kitchen.

“What is it?” Brandon asked eyes wide and looking around. Hathaway stepped aside and gestured towards the small computer.

“This.”

Brandon stepped closer and looked at the image and numbers.

“These look like population numbers,” she said. “But then the numbers go down and there’s this reference to BDA.” She looked up at Hathaway. “Ever see that before?”

Hathaway nodded.

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“BDA is Bomb Damage Assessment,” Hathaway said. The room fell silent with only the crackling and snap of the wood in the fireplace disturbing the peace.

“Oh my God,” Brandon said as she brought a hand up to her mouth, her eyes wide. To Hathaway, she looked like a frightened child.

“Those numbers following BDA are estimated deaths,” Hathaway said.

“Does that mean infected dead or not infected dead?” Axtell asked.

“I don’t know,” Hathaway said. “Could be a combination of both.”

He continued to stare at the numbers on the screen as the map image of CONUS slid more west and more numbers scrolled under the names of the cities.

“Top, what does this mean for us?” Valdez asked.

“I don’t know, Val. I just don’t know.”

Valdez walked out of the kitchen and into the front room where he stood by the fire and stared into the flames.

“God damn it!” Valdez yelled. “They had to finally go and do it!”

Axtell watched him leave the kitchen then looked back at Hathaway and Brandon who were still staring at the laptop screen. A look of confusion crossed his face then a frown as he shook his head and walked out of the room. Hathaway stepped up beside Brandon and watched as the image slowly continued to scroll. Brandon felt his presence, turned and hugged him tightly, pressing her face into his chest.

“It’s all over,” she said quietly. “This is how the world ends.”

Hathaway hugged her, slowly rubbing up and down her back.

“No. This isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning.”

***

Chapter 56

Joint Base Lewis McChord (JBLM), Washington State

Holroyd took an inventory of what ammunition was left in their small group of gun trucks as the convoy headed towards the east gate. They had nearly clocked out on their stored ammunition. Another encounter with large numbers of infected and they would be weapons dry in mere minutes. He checked his map, the route that they had cleared led them through several small towns until finally reaching Cascade. One of the towns or rather cities was Yelm. Yelm boasted a Wal-Mart and other large retailers and grocery chains. Each time they passed through there, he gazed over at the huge retailer and wondered how many people had sped there in the opening days of the outbreak thinking that they could actually stock up on supplies they should have already had on hand.

The testament to that was the number of abandoned cars in the parking lot. Several of which were interconnected with each.

Sergeant Sullivan had turned off before the East Gate and entered the training area. The East Gate had been closed and sealed within the first few days of infection. The only way to get into and out of the post and not travel on Interstate-5 was to take range roads through the training areas and come out at one of several entrances. Holroyd’s preference was to take what he called Red One, a wide, hard packed gravel road that traversed one of the larger training areas and bypassed all the small towns. But, Colonel Carter had made it known that they were to continue to detour through those former enclaves of habitation until they were absolutely sure there were no residents. Showing the flag is what Carter said it was. As they passed through a section of the Nisqually Indian Reservation, Holroyd keyed his radio.

“All units, all units, Texas-6. ACE,” he said as he pulled out the tri-fold binder that was wedged between the large SINCGARS radio and the dash. He opened it on one thigh and waited for the gun trucks to pass along their status.

In the midst of receiving the status reports, Cascade came up on the Net.

“Texas-6, Texas-6, Raven Actual.”

“Raven Actual, Texas-6.”

“Texas-6, how far are you from Cascade?”

Holroyd looked outside the vehicle for the burned out tree that he used as a mile marker when on Red One.

“18 Klicks.”

“Texas-6, Raven Actual. Are you familiar with the tank crossing?”

“Raven Actual, affirm.”

“Texas-6, you need to divert to that location immediately. When you arrive, laager in for the night. Do you copy?”

“Raven Actual, Texas-6. Copies all.” Holroyd didn’t want to waste time asking questions. If the colonel said divert and laager then that’s what they were going to do. There would be time enough for questions when they arrived back at Cascade.

“You heard the man, Sully,” Holroyd said, looking over at his team sergeant. “Hit it.”

Sullivan turned off of Red One and onto another road, one of many that crisscrossed the Weir Prairie training area of JBLM. Within minutes they arrived at the tank crossing, a large expanse that crossed over a two-lane, paved road. The distinction was the heavy concrete reinforcement that had been poured across the asphalt to facilitate large, heavy vehicles, like tanks, crossing over without damaging the road bed. The gun trucks rolled across that strip of gray and into another section of the vast JBLM training areas before stopping at a series of concrete bunkers.

“Clear those hooches!” Holroyd called out as he exited the Hummer. With the heavy weapons covering the soldiers, the observation bunkers were cleared and secured without incident. This was a remote area of the installation and there wasn’t even graffiti sprayed on the walls. Holroyd keyed his radio.

“Raven-6, Texas-6, we are at the location.”

“Texas-6, stand by for Raven Actual.” Holroyd looked around at his men as the thought about what all this was about.

“Texas-6, Raven Actual. Go to clear.” Holroyd frowned as he switched his radio over to the predetermined channel.

“Raven Actual, Texas-6,” he said once he was on the directed channel.

“Captain,” Colonel Carter said over the Net. “You’re to hunker down there for twelve hours. There should be adequate shelter.”

“Yes sir,” Holroyd said, looking over at the bunkers.

“You need to get your men and any sensitive electronic devices turned off and inside those bunkers. Do you understand that, Captain?”

Holroyd paused.
What was going on
?

“Yes sir. All sensitive electronic devices turned off and inside the bunkers,” he repeated. “Sir, is this what I think it is?” The pause at the other end of the transmission was answer enough without the single word that Colonel Carter spoke.

“Yes.”

“Copy that, sir,” Holroyd said as he felt the pit of his stomach drop and he became slightly light-headed.

***