Up From the Depths (8 page)

Chapter 14

Brooks Mountain Range, Alaska

The assault group had a small respite from the storm as they passed through a narrow valley. The defile required them to move single file and prevented the wind from blowing through the crevasse which meant the snow wasn’t powdery or deep allowing them to make up for lost time.

“How far are we from DZ Fox?” Sands asked when O’Toole had called a short break.

“I figure 15 klicks,” O’Toole replied. “That’s if it’s there.” He left unspoken that the lead plane might have aborted due to weather and not dropped their supplies. “How’s Harris holding up?”

Sands looked back towards the rear of the column.

“He’s probably still a little pissed off. But, he’s young, he’ll get over it,” Sands commented.

“I’ll tell you though, those fucking squids are serious hard core studs,” Sands said. “They’ve been switching off between themselves and they brought a shitload more gear with them then we did. Not one of them whines or bitches.”

“Noticed that,” O’Toole agreed. A shout from the head of the valley made them look up.

The Ranger pathfinder element was approaching, but they had someone with them. As the small unit drew closer, O’Toole could see that the newcomer wasn’t military. He was dressed in a North Face parka, quilted, thick insulated pants and heavily furred boots. His face was covered with a balaclava and ski goggles. He drew back the hood of his parka to reveal a knitted watch cap. It was obvious he was Inuit by his skin tone and features. The man lifted up the ski goggles and looked around.

“What are you boys doing out here?” he asked, surprise in his tone.

“Training mission gone bad,” O’Toole stated studying the native Alaskan resident.

“Bullshit,” the man said. “No way you boys are on a training mission,” he said looking around at the Rangers and Special Operations personnel, the weaponry they bristled with and the heavily loaded cargo sleds. “You got a case of the ass for someone,” he added.

“OK, you got us. We’re invading Russia,” O’Toole said. The man scowled, looking hard at the Special Forces captain.

“Then you’re really fucked because you’re heading the wrong way,” the Inuit replied.

O’Toole didn’t say anything just looked at the man.

“Where’d you come from?” O’Toole asked changing the subject.

“I was out checking my traps,” the man said pointing back the way he had come. “Ran into this storm on the way back and headed here. Then a couple of your people stopped me,” he explained.

“You live around here?” O’Toole asked.

“Hell no. No one lives out here. I live a few miles back that way,” he replied pointing in the direction that the team had come from.

“You got a name?” O’Toole asked.

“Do you?” the reply came back defensively. “OK, OK,” the man said holding up his hands and nodding his head when he saw the men tense. “I’m Elian Weatherstone.”

“You from that Inuit village a few miles from here?” Harris asked as he walked up.

“Yeah, what of it?” Weatherstone asked cautiously.

“We sent some of our injured that way,” Harris replied.

“You got injured people here?” Weatherstone asked with disbelief. “Sucks to be them,” he added.

“How’d you get here Mr. Weatherstone?” O’Toole asked.

“You mean here? As in this state or in this area?” Weatherstone asked.

“I mean here in this valley,” O’Toole clarified.

“Well, shit, dude, everyone who lives in this area knows about this pass,” Weatherstone stated. “It’s the best place to head for when the weather turns bad.”

“Did you walk all this way?” O’Toole asked.

“Shit no. I left my snowmobile a few miles back. The little bitch crapped out on me. Figured the best thing I could do was head here before there was a total whiteout. Can’t see shit in this weather,” Weatherstone stated.

O’Toole, Harris, and Willis who had joined them stepped away for a quiet conversation.

“The only other place around here that has shelter is that research station,” Weatherstone muttered off handedly. “And no one goes there.”

The three officers looked at him.

“Research station?” Willis asked.

“Yeah, some private research place. It was built a few years back and no one goes near it. Built into part of a mountain, looks real solid and official like,” Weatherstone explained. “Thought maybe you boys were part of it, but you’re a lot nicer than the assholes who work security.”

“You’ve seen it?” O’Toole asked.

“Well yeah,” Weatherstone gave O’Toole a strange look. “How else would I know that the security guys are dicks?”

“How far are we from it?” Willis asked.

“I don’t know,” Weatherstone said looking up at the sky then back towards the way he had come. “Eight, maybe nine miles, hard to say without seeing the stars,” he added.

Harris pulled out his map and traced his finger along their route before tapping a section.

“Oh yeah,” Weatherstone said peering over their shoulders. “That’s the place.”

“What’s the perimeter look like?” Willis asked.

“Open,” Weatherstone replied.

“Open?” O’Toole asked.

“Yeah, there’s no fence or nothing,” Weatherstone answered.

“What about patrols?” Harris asked.

“They use Snowcats mostly. Unless it’s like this,” the Inuit replied indicating the blizzard that swirled above them and whistled past the entrance to the narrow passage they were in. O’Toole looked at the faces of the other men; they could do this.

“In your travels to get here, did you come across anything unusual?” O’Toole asked.

“Besides you guys?” Weatherstone asked then thought for a few minutes. “Yeah, I heard a plane a while back, wasn’t sure at first because you’d have to be totally fucking nuts to fly into an arctic storm. Pretty sure it was a plane, kind of low, came in over Tyson’s Meadow,” he pointed in the general direction. “Then I didn’t hear it no more.”

“Tyson’s Meadow?” Harris asked looking at his map.

“You ain’t gonna find that on a map,” Weatherstone stated. “That’s a local name.”

“Show me where that is,” Harris stated. Weatherstone stepped into the circle of officers and studied the map.

“That’s it right there,” he said pointing to a section of the map. O’Toole leaned closer and looked then trailed his eyes over to where their objective was. If what Weatherstone had heard was the lead plane coming in low and dropping the rest of their equipment, then they stood a better than average chance of completing their mission.

***

Chapter 15

Camberley, Surrey, United Kingdom

Jack Larkin sat on the floor and stared at the image of Leesa Tobias as she stood by the delivery door. Her image, ghost, or whatever hadn’t disappeared for hours. The two children that he and M’Banga had found in the back room were asleep. Maybe the only real sleep they’d had in months. M’Banga stood by the doorway that led to the main store, out of sight of the infected on the street but still in a position to watch them and the rest of the small storeroom. He had been watching Larkin for the last few hours trying to understand the young man’s fixation with the delivery door.

Larkin lowered his head and closed his eyes. Images of the time he had spent with her danced in his head. As he nodded off, the images slowed down then sped up, never staying at the same speed as they flashed through his mind. The final image of her that stayed was that of her smiling at him then pointing a pistol at his head. The barrel seemed huge as she brought it up to his face, a wide smile on her lips. He watched as her finger slowly applied pressure and the trigger moved back. Just as the bullet was fired he jerked awake with a loud gasp.

The storeroom was dark, Larkin was unsure of what time it was, maybe midnight or pre-dawn. Larkin slowly got to his feet and peered out towards the front of the store. He didn’t see M’Banga but knew he was out there, somewhere, in the shadows watching the street. He strained to see out the dirty windows but couldn’t tell if the infected were still present. The moon peeked out from behind the clouds and cast its pale glow, illuminating the town. The street outside was empty. The infected had moved on. A shadow detached itself from the interior of the store and stealthily moved towards Larkin. M’Banga materialized out of the gloom, a smile showing his white teeth as he drew closer. Larkin stepped aside and let the Ghurka pass then followed him into the back.

M’Banga squatted down and using his finger, drew a diagram on the dust that coated the floor. Larkin was well acquainted with the Nepalese warrior’s shorthand and quickly understood what was being shown. They would have to exit the store, circle around to the service alley and then move through the back streets and most likely the backyards of some of the the homes to avoid contact with the infected. Larkin nodded agreement then moved to awaken the children. He glanced over towards the service door but didn’t see the image of Leesa standing there. Maybe it was too dark or maybe she had finally left him alone. He looked at the service door again. Maybe that was a better option, use that door to exit the store instead of the front door. Then he paused, they had already used the front door and it didn’t make noise when opened. The service door was a total unknown. For all he knew, it was locked from the outside or it squealed when opened. The less noise they made, the better their chances of survival.

The children, Mike and Rachel, stayed quiet after Larkin woke them. They had been alive this long to know that noise drew unwanted attention. Larkin removed a small flashlight from his pocket, covered most of the lens with his other hand and slowly swept the interior of the storeroom looking for anything they could use that might have been overlooked.

Mike was picking up one of the mesh shopping bags when the side ripped open and spilled canned food onto the concrete floor with a loud clatter. Everyone froze in place as one can rolled along the floor, hit the doorframe and then tottered back and forth before finally stopping. M’Banga quickly looked towards the front of the store then back at the small group in the store room. He looked back to the front in time to see the moon light blocked out by shadows and the crash of glass as infected pushed in the front door.

“Move!” he yelled as the time for silence was now past. Larkin looked at the service door, Leesa stood by it gesticulating wildly. He herded the children towards it knowing that M’Banga would cover him for as long as he was able. Larkin squatted down by the door and studied the locking mechanism. Grasping the lever, he moved it up and open then grabbed the handle and started to pull. The door protested with a squeal then moved a couple of inches. Months of disuse and the lack of maintenance had taken their toll on the parts but Larkin, straining with both hands on the handle and using his legs, was able to get the door to open halfway. He let go of the door and it dropped a few inches before stopping, using his flashlight, he quickly looked outside, the alleyway was clear. Motioning to the children, he shoved them out the door as M’Banga opened fire on the infected that had gained entrance to the front of the store. Rachel froze when she heard the gunfire. Larkin had to push her out the door and into Mike’s hands. Larkin looked back at M’Banga as the Ghurka reloaded, nodded to him then stepped out into the store and continued firing. Larkin slid out under the door and dropped to the alley. Crouching and bringing his rifle up, he scanned both ends of the narrow street then grabbed Mike’s hand and pulled. The boy didn’t move. Larkin looked down and saw that he was holding his little sister who was now in a catatonic state, eyes wide open yet staring at nothing. He assumed it was probably their first time outside the store in a very long time. Larkin let his rifle hang by its sling, scooped up the little girl and grabbed Mike’s hand pulling him towards the end of the alley where Leesa’s spectral image stood and beckoned them.

He awkwardly ran trying to look in all directions at once and carry a small child, his pack, the mesh shopping bags and drag along a small boy. At the end of the alley, he paused and looked back. Muffled gunshots were coming from the store so M’Banga was still in the fight. Larkin hesitated, the decision to keep going to their hide site or stay here and wait for M’Banga weighed on him. Leesa’s image motioned to him from across the street. He leaned out and looked both ways, the street was clear. Looking down at Mike, who was holding a shortened, sharpened broom handle, he made his choice and ran across the street half dragging the little boy.

Upon entering the other alley, he stopped behind a dumpster and set Rachel down. She sat against the side of the building and starting rocking back and forth. Mike shook her a few times to no avail. He looked up at Larkin with pleading eyes, tear tracks running through the dirt on his face. Larkin had no idea what was wrong with the little girl. He looked up and around, as he mounted the bayonet to his rifle. Leaning out from the dumpster, he looked down the alley. Still clear. Twisting around, he looked back the way they had come. The rifle fire from M’Banga had stopped. That was either a good sign or a very bad sign.

Leesa’s image appeared again, only this time she was squatted down next to him with concern in her eyes. Her mouth moved but he couldn’t hear the words. Frowning and staring hard at her mouth as she silently spoke he still couldn’t make out what she was saying. A hand grabbed his shoulder, instinctively he brought his rifle around and once he was sure of his target, thrust the bayonet into the decayed throat and fired one round into the head of the infected that had grabbed him. The body flew back amidst a spray of gray matter, gore, bone, and rotted flesh. Larkin came around the dumpster and faced the opening of the alley. Several infected were shambling towards him. Dropping to one knee, he took aim and began firing. Using single shots like M’Banga had taught him, he engaged the infected, reloaded, pocketed the empty magazine, took aim and continued firing. A shout from behind him distracted him and his last shot went awry. Swearing to himself, he took aim and put down the last infected that had staggered in from that direction. Spinning around, letting his now empty rifle slide around his back on its sling, he drew his saber and faced the new threat. Hundreds of infected filled the alley before him. He stood up, looked down at Mike whose eyes were now wide with fear as he cradled his sister, and then back up at the packed infected.

“Whose fucking next?” he called out as the first wall of infected descended upon him. “I’ll bloody slot the lot of you!”

***