Vampire's Day (Book 2): Zero Model (19 page)

68
.
Monopoly

“Well, what did you decide?”

Chief didn’t answer immediately. He understood that they had little time and must act, and yet he was afraid to start this fight. The fight would be the most difficult in his life, and he had had fights and battles enough.

He kept thinking, passing a cigarette to Palmer, who was lying next to him. She happily lit it; such simple pleasures hadn’t been available for a long time. Now she could smoke again, eat normally, and, as she’d recently learned, could reach orgasm with a strong man. The nanomachines took care of that. She was confident that soon she’d be able to get rid of the hated wig; her hair, seemingly killed by radiation, again resumed growth.

But the cigarette, food, and even sex was inferior to the new infinite bliss, which she experienced with the first blood injection, the same as Chief had told her. Naturally, he couldn’t explain it properly, it needed to be experienced in person - Palmer now understood why the driver attacked his colleagues, understood why the infected were ready to walk into machine gun fire, understood everything that was happening here. Carrier survival wasn’t a priority for the Z-Model, it was much more interested in expansion, for which it had
a
terrifyingly effective tool - hunger.

Who was actually the master, dictating the rules: the man with the Z-Model in his blood, or the nanomachines, forcing the carrier to do anything in order to expand the colony?

Francis, Chief, Pete Anderson – they would all be fine exactly as long as they fed the Zero Model, otherwise all of them would suffer a terrible punishment. Yesterday she had conducted autopsies of several infected, and saw what happened to their brains. The same thing would happen to them, in less than a day without the constant injection. They couldn’t remove this dependence - effective blood substitutes to satisfy the Z-Model don’t exist. Therefore, they were tied to the Zero Model forever – that was the fee for immortality. Greatness couldn’t be obtained for free.

“I'm waiting for your decision. I fulfilled my part. I have studied the mechanism of Z-Model expansion, and calculated the minimum necessary dose. Only you and I know about it; the key to eternal life is in our hands. The number of our competitors is reduced as the infected rapidly die out. The nanomachines are quickly destroyed in dead bodies, so no one can remove the Z-Model from corpses. We have to get rid of samples in the laboratory and the infected prisoners; I have already destroyed most of my records. A little more and we will become the sole owners of the Z-Model, reliably carried in our veins. In business, it’s called a monopoly. But if we don’t do anything in the near future, our monopoly will suffer an ignominious collapse, and we won’t get anything for our work, except for a bullet in the head. So, have you decided?”

“We cannot stand alone, Francis, the forces acting against us are too powerful. We need allies. We need our people. My soldiers, your doctors and engineers - perfectly trained personnel, with great experience. Here is my answer - they must come to our side, and immediately. Only with this team do we have a chance.”

At this point Palmer took a short break for reflection.

“It will be difficult to convince them to adopt the Z-Model. At least, to convince everyone. I don’t think they will all agree.”

“I can handle that. To begin with, I will let my men, especially the seriously wounded, talk with Pete. I will demonstrate to them how it works. In the meantime, you do this…”

69
.
Elimination of damage

This latest attack had no chance – the drone spotted a group of infected long before they came to the security zone. They made sure that the small group had no powerful weapons, then the officer ordered that the Bumblebee not be used, giving the pilots a rest.

Machine guns and mortars opened fire, methodically destroying the infected. There was no firing in response; it seemed they had completely forgotten about using guns. The marines weren’t surprised. They were convinced that, after the fierce night battle, the enemies had lost all capacity for meaningful action and just ran forward, allowing themselves to be shot without any problems. The last mines exploded, the machine guns stopped, and the funeral team started to work again.

The giant pyre burned incessantly for many hours, as Colonel ordered for more gasoline to be used, eliminating the thousands of corpses in the most effective way - cremation. Here he fully agreed with Palmer - the bodies needed to burn as quickly as possible. Even without the danger of the infection spreading, they didn’t need a lot of corpses lying in the heat near the base.

Sweating in heavy protective suits, the marines dumped the bodies of men, women and children in the fiery crater. Single shots could periodically be heard, when they found seriously wounded enemies among the dead. A separate team collected captured weapons, which would be destroyed. Bulldozers dumped broken cars in a giant pile. It gradually became a small pyramid, and was then set ablaze with flamethrowers.

In the meantime, on the base they dealt with the consequences of a night battle. The mobilized civilians, having completed the emergency burials, were directed to dismantle the burnt hangars and recover barbed wire. At the same time, engineers worked at the airport - several rockets had fallen on the runway, leaving small, but deep craters, threatening disaster for any aircraft that tried to land there. Now these craters must be filled with rapidly hardening concrete and closed with steel sheets - the runway should be ready to take aircraft again in the near future.

On the road to the burnt city there were several black SUVs and a pair of armored cars; a helicopter and reconnaissance drones covered them. The column was moving at low speed, stopping periodically. Richardson ordered the jamming station to be temporarily turned off, enabling the drug lord to use the radio and try to connect with one of his colleagues in the burnt city. There had been recent shooting, as infected clashed with each other in a few large buildings on the outskirts.

Apparently, that was where a kind of headquarters was located. Finding this place, Colonel wanted to destroy it with an air strike, but changed his mind and gave another order. The drug lord must achieve his own salvation and go to negotiate with the infected. Richardson needed to learn about what was happening, and for this he needed to find someone who had stayed sane.

The drug lord didn’t argue with this dangerous order, he just demanded a couple of armored vehicles and a helicopter for his guards. He didn’t mind going into the city to find out what was going on. He had no desire to talk with the infected personally; the negotiations would take place on the radio - if Senor Richardson wanted to talk with them, then he could do it himself.

Sooner or later, this infection would die, and then the drug lord had to re-establish control in the valley. Competitors and former business partners had been destroyed, but the land and part of the harvest survived, so he needed to hurry up, until there were no more other contenders for the throne. In the upcoming fight for the valley Colonel’s assistance would be crucial, and if so, he needed to let Richardson get what he wanted.

Next to the mobile research complex a tent hospital was installed, and more than a hundred wounded soldiers and civilians stayed there, helped by Palmer’s men. Observers continued to keep watch on the hangar roof, but the marine platoon, ready to storm the research complex at Colonel’s orders, had been recalled yesterday to the night fight.

70
.
Allies

Chief Bronson knew his men well. There were eighty-four privates and officers, plus twelve technicians, totaling ninety-six, and Bronson had personally selected each of them. When he’d received the offer eight years ago to create and lead the Special Combat Group, that was his main request – that he could personally recruit staff. Knowing his reputation, the customers decided that this was reasonable.

So Bronson hired his colleagues, most of whom he’d known for more than twenty-five years. Since the SCG tasks would be unusual, he needed more than just trained and experienced professionals. Bronson was looking for people with a particular mindset and personal qualities, which he called the Filibuster. A modern version of pirates, who took to sea robbery under the skull and crossbones, like his distant ancestors, terrifying the Spanish ships and colonies. They shouldn’t just earn a rich life with their weapons, they should enjoy the process.

Creating the SCG, Chief was determined to turn it into a thriving military company - he hadn’t lost the dream of a private army. The need for military power in large businesses would continue to grow and he must be prepared to offer his services to wealthy customers. Ideal commercial military mechanism,not burdened by ideology and politics, free from overwhelming army bureaucracy, and responsible only for th
e
results - that's what he wanted.

But his dreams didn’t come true; he didn’t have the private army, just the SCG, which were numerically less than one company. Previously Chief had believed this to be tragic. But in the last two days, he revised his opinion - in this position it was an advantage. A small detachment, where he knew each soldier and officer personally, was easier to motivate for a specific task, especially if they were talking about a military coup.

Despite his unquestionable authority, Chief didn’t speak immediately with all of them. First, he spoke face to face with the four officers, outlining the current facts and his position, and then played his trump card – allowing them to talk with Pete Anderson, who by that time had fully recovered from the terrible burns. Chief was sure that this argument would work flawlessly, and he wasn’t wrong.

It was hard to believe in immortality and invulnerability, even when the commander told them about it. But it was quite another thing to see it with their own eyes. They had seen the condition of Pete yesterday, and now they saw
a
completely healthy man
.
They knew what Chief offered them.

After the officers came over to his side, Bronson worked much faster. The next stage was the wounded – after two days of fighting they had eleven wounded, including three severely, which they hadn’t managed to send to the hospital. Their chances of survival diminished each passing hour. Therefore, they listened with great attention to Chief’s proposal, this time voiced by Pete himself.

So, the wounded soldiers were on his side, and the Zero Model put them quickly back on their feet. It was time to put the rest of the Group under the new banner.

In the end, everything went smoothly; the vast majority agreed with Chief’s proposals. There were, however, eight men who refused, among them Doc, an old comrade-in-arms, who had served under Chief for twenty-five years. Bronson was ready for it; he knew that there may be those who didn’t agree with the rebellion, and made the necessary arrangements in advance. Palmer was ready to assist. An injection of the Z-Model was given to them under the guise of a mandatory vaccination against the epidemic, which had already been given to Chief and senior officers.

Under some pretext the loyal soldiers disarmed those who went to this medical procedure, so when Doc and a few privates rebelled against the commander, they didn’t have weapons. The rebels weren’t going to give up, and put up fierce resistance, using whatever was at hand. As a result, two of them were killed, and one of Bronson’s men received several stab wounds. But he didn’t die; the Z-Model saved him, which again clearly proved the truth of Chief’s words. So when Bronson personally shot his wounded comrade, no more soldiers wanted to rebel – the SCG fully passed into Bronson’s personal command. Once done, Palmer gave them their first dose of blood, so that each of them could assess all the benefits of a new life.

Finished with the SCG, Chief began working on Palmer’s men. It was late afternoon, time was running out, so there was no persuasion – Bronson’s soldiers suddenly turned guns on the scientists and technicians, and then Palmer very clearly explained to them her demands: go over to their side or die. There was no resistance, except for one technician, who unsuccessfully attempted to start an alarm, because Francis had disabled the security system in advance. They didn’t shoot him – he was just handcuffed and injected, like everyone else.

“Chief, I just got the message - the bosses aren’t happy with the way things are going, and want to send a second group. Walt is coming. They may arrive early this night, and if that happens, our conspiracy goes to hell. And yet, in view of our new allies, I quickly finished blood. We must do something.”

71. Truth

It was eight o'clock in the evening. The defensive line had been restored, the marines returned to the barracks, the mobilized civilians gone back to camp. The craters on the runway were sealed, so the airfield was ready to take planes. On the hangar roof the duty pair of observers was changed. In the mobile research complex territory all was quiet.

“Observers have changed.”

“Got it. Guards?”

“No one in sight, they were recalled yesterday. Only sentinels at the perimeter. The medics have returned.”

Four laboratory medics returned from the hospital, gently placing in the lock chamber large metal orange boxes for the storage of hazardous samples. Palmer personally met them.

“Francis, how did it go?”

“No problem with the marines, but there were some people asking questions among the civilians. We told them that, without this blood test, the marines would not put them on the planes, so they couldn’t fly away from here. After that, no more wanted to argue.”

“OK. How long shall we have enough blood?”

In order to resupply reserves, Palmer had ordered that a little bit of blood was taken from each of the wounded marines and civilians in the hospital. Now this blood would be used immediately, so there was no need to spend time checking the unsuspecting donors for various infections – the Zero Model guaranteed freedom from any contamination.

“In view of all that I had already, and what we’ve got now, the minimum safe dose will last us for four and a half days. But using the minimum dose is risky – it’s easy to make a mistake because of the individual characteristics of each carrier. So, it’
s
better to take a guaranteed dose. It’s more than the minimum, but means the nanomachines won’t burn our brains. For the guaranteed dose we have enough for seventy-two hours.”

“So, three days, from this point. This isn’t enough.”

Chief organized headquarters in the central module. He called all his officers, planning the most important operation in the history of SCG. As a special exception, Palmer was allowed to attend the meeting - Bronson was well aware that without her all their plans were doomed.

“While the local army monitors the passes and boats patrol the gulf, we can only get out of the valley by air. What's going on at the airport?”

“Everyone are in their seats, waiting for planes. The Hercules is ready for take-off, the repair of the damaged Black Hawk is finished, and the crews are in the barracks.”

“What about the Crocodile?”

“It’s fixed, but I don’t know where the crew is and we don’t know how to fly it. I don’t think we can use Crocodile.”

“So, Hercules and four helicopters. They don’t have their own air defense system here. The time it takes the generals to understand what is happening, and t
o
launch the AWACS and interceptors will be enough for us to fly over the mountains and…”

“Chief, Colonel wants to visit his injured…”

Finally, for the first time in days, he was lucky. The repair of the runway was done, and reinforcements might arrive that night. Finally, it would also be possible to send the injured to a normal hospital, and send away these civilians, who would soon drive him crazy. The Big Boss came to personally restore order; Palmer’s reign is over.

“I want my wounded sent to the hospital first and only then the civilians, do you understand me? My men will go first, and I'll check to make sure!”

“Of course, I have nothing against that. The marines provided all the help; we just did what we could.”

“OK, now I want to talk to them.”

Richardson had completed the inspection, when his radiotelephone rang.

“Yeah, listen. Have you managed to contact them? OK. What do those bastards want, why did they need the civilians? What, again? What? Blood? They need… you son of a bit…”

Colonel jerked out a pearl-handled Colt, but Palmer was faster with her Derringer, and shot him in the back with both barrels.