Voodoo Plague - 01 (22 page)

As Anderson
watched a slight figure that looked like a woman suddenly raced forward from
the edge of the crowd, quickly followed by two more.  All five officers opened
fire, two of the women dropping to the street but the third made a mighty leap,
landed on the hood of one of the patrol cars then launched herself at one of the
officers.  They went down in a tangle and started fighting until another office
cracked her over the head with a baton.  She went limp and was pushed aside.

The officer who
had used the baton turned his attention back to the rioters, engaging another
runner before she could reach the hood of his car.  As Anderson watched, the
officer who had fought on the ground with the woman slowly got to his feet,
stumbling like he was injured, then to Anderson’s horror he reached forward and
appeared to sink his teeth into the other officer’s neck.  They fought for a
few seconds before falling to the ground, the first officer’s jaws still locked
onto his prey.  The other three officers stared, distracted for a minute, and
paid the price.  Five more women raced forward and quickly drug them down.  The
screams were clear on the night air and soon the crowd of rioters reached the
struggling officers and fell on them like a pack of hyenas.

“What the fuck
is going on?”  Anderson asked himself as he backed away from the edge of the
roof, turned and sprinted back to the idling Pave Hawk.  He ran past Mayo,
ignoring him, and skidded around the nose of the chopper.  Yanking the door
open he fumbled his headset on and relayed what he’d seen to Captain Helm.

“What?”  A
shocked Helm asked.

“Exactly what I
said Captain.  I’ve never seen anything like it except in movies.  It was just
like a scene out of The Walking Dead.”

Helm might not
have believed Anderson if it weren’t for how obviously shaken the young
Lieutenant was.  He hadn’t known Anderson for long, but from what he’d seen the
younger man was steady and level headed and didn’t seem to have a tendency to
want to exaggerate or play jokes.  Making a decision he pushed the button for
the secure comm channel.

“Alpha Team,
Cadillac Two Seven,” He broadcast.

“Go Two Seven,”
the answer came back almost immediately, the SF team leader barely speaking
loud enough to be heard.

“Alpha, be
advised we have a civilian riot in progress in the street to the south of the
LZ.  Local law enforcement has engaged and shots are being fired.”  How the
hell could he tell someone over the radio that the zombies were here?

“Acknowledged,
Two Seven.  Keep a sharp eye Captain.  We’ve located package and am en route to
you.  Seven mikes – minutes – out.”

Helm had
intentionally left the radio feed switched to the intercom so the whole flight
crew could listen in.  They exchanged nervous glances as Anderson set a
countdown timer on the Pave Hawk’s console to seven minutes, glancing at the
center mounted chronometer display and noting the time was 2340.  While he was
looking at the display a bright red LED started pulsing in the center of the
panel.  An emergency indicator telling the pilot to switch to a specific
encrypted military channel.  Helm rotated the dial on the radio and entered the
passcode of the day when asked.  A click followed by a hiss not unlike a fax
machine connecting then a clear voice was speaking in all their headsets.

“…Condition 1. 
Bugs Bunny.  All units set Condition 1.”  The short message started repeating
and all the blood drained from Helm’s face.

“What’s Bugs
Bunny?”  Anderson asked, almost afraid of the answer.  Helm looked like he was
about to go into shock and didn’t react to Anderson’s question.  “Captain Helm,
what’s Bugs Bunny?”  Anderson asked again, louder.

Helm regained a
degree of composure and looked over at him with the most haunted eyes Anderson
had ever seen up to that point.  “A nuclear weapon has been detonated in an
American city.”

The crew was
stunned into silence, listening to the pre-recorded message repeat.  Finally
Helm reached forward and silenced the radio, switching back to the secure comm
frequency for the SF Team.  Pressing the button he spoke in a calmer voice than
Anderson expected,

“Alpha Team,
Cadillac Two Seven.”

“Alpha, go.” 
The stress was audible in the SF team leader’s voice and Anderson was sure he
could hear the sound of suppressed weapons fire over the open circuit.

“Alpha Team, we
have received Bugs Bunny.  I repeat, we have received Bugs Bunny.”

There was no
reply for a few heartbeats, then, “Alpha acknowledges Bugs Bunny.  Out.”  The
voice was as calm and cold as ever and this time Anderson was certain he’d
heard a suppressed rifle firing on full automatic.

Anderson climbed
all the way back into the cockpit and strapped in, ready to go as soon as the
team returned.  Out the windshield he could see Mayo looking around nervously,
fingering the fire selector on the M4 rifle in his hands.  He turned to see
Blake scanning the roof, back and forth, the door gun traversing with him as he
scanned.  He turned back and started scanning the instruments, making sure the
helicopter was ready to go when they were.

“Contact,” Blake
announced over the intercom.

Anderson and
Helm spun around in time to see a small crowd of white coated civilians coming
onto the roof through the metal door the SF team had used to access the
building.  They spotted the helicopter and the man sitting in the door and
started a shambling, shuffling walk forward.  Two women in the group, one of
them blonde with long hair screamed and ran towards them.

“Sir?”  Blake
shouted over the intercom.

“Fire Sergeant. 
Remember your ROE.”  Helm answered instantly.

The heavy
machine gun spoke in short controlled bursts.  The M240 is a belt fed weapon and
fires a NATO designated round that is 7.62 mm.  At any range out to a thousand
yards it is lethal, but at less than two hundred feet it is absolutely
devastating to the human body and the two women fell to the roof as their
bodies were shredded by Blake’s fire.  The group of men behind them didn’t
pause or disperse, just kept on coming.  Blake feathered the trigger and
wreaked the same devastation on them.  As Blake fired Helm got back on the
radio and notified Alpha Team that they were repelling attackers.  More people
came out of the door, meeting the same fate as the first group as Blake cut
them down. 

“Contact,”
Mayo’s voice came over the intercom. 

At the far side
of the roof another door was swinging open and a small group stumbled onto the
roof.  Several white shirted security guards led the way, followed by white
coated workers.  As soon as they saw the helicopter and Mayo aiming a rifle at
them they stopped.  One of the guards pushed back through the crowd and slammed
the door, leaning his back against it and digging his heels into the surface of
the roof.

“Sir?”  Mayo
asked.

“ROE has not
changed, Airman.  If they try to approach you will open fire.”  Helm’s voice
was amazingly steady.

“Yes, sir.” 
Mayo’s voice, however, betrayed his doubt in their orders, but he held the
rifle steady, finger on the trigger.

One of the
guards stepped forward a couple of steps, then stopped and cupped his hands
around his mouth.  He obviously was shouting to them but neither Helm nor
Anderson could hear him from inside the Pave Hawk over the idling of engines.

“What’s he
saying, Mayo?”  Anderson asked over the intercom.

“Sir, he’s
asking for help.  Says they’re coming, whatever that means.”

Helm and
Anderson exchanged a worried look.  “Stay frosty, Mayo.”  Anderson said while
Helm called Alpha Team.

“Two Seven,
acknowledge hostiles and civilians on roof.  I have two men down and package is
wounded.  We’re at your location in thirty seconds.”  More gunfire in the
background, this time pistol fire that wasn’t suppressed.  Had they run out of
rifle ammo?

Helm made sure
Blake knew the SF team was about to exit the door when Mayo fired a burst at
the crowd he was watching.  One of the guards had started walking towards the
helicopter and Mayo shot him in the chest.  The guard with his back against the
door shouted something and the remaining guards drew their pistols and started
firing at the helicopter.  The impacts of the bullets were audible even over
the idling engines and Mayo opened up with the M4. 

Two of the
guards went down, but two more were still firing.  Mayo had to do a quick
magazine change and before he could bring the rifle back to bear the guard
holding the door flew forward as the door burst open and a large crowd of
people flooded onto the roof.  They immediately started attacking the people
who were already there and Mayo stared in mute shock as blood and gore stained
all the white clothing.  Blake also opened up as more hostiles stumbled out of
the other door.

Anderson
unhooked the flight harness again and scrambled into the back where he
extracted the last M4 from the weapons locker, grabbing the last two magazines
and jumping out to go support Mayo.  His feet had just hit the roof when he
spotted Alpha Team leader emerge onto the roof amidst a crowd that was trying
to grab him and drag him down.  He had a firm grip on the arm of the man
Anderson had seen in the photo and was pulling him along as he kicked people
out of his way and fired his pistol into the surrounding bodies.

Blake had
stopped firing for fear of hitting friendlies and Anderson shouldered the M4
rifle and started to run towards Alpha Team.  He wasn’t half way there when
with no apparent warning the man they’d been sent to evacuate turned and bit
into Alpha leader’s neck.  There was a spray of arterial blood then both
collapsed under the weight of the crowd as it surged inward.

Anderson stopped
and started backing up, turning and running when a woman detached herself and
with a blood chilling scream started running in his direction.  Her face was
smeared with bright red blood, stains down the front of her once pristine lab
coat.  Anderson dodged out of Blake’s sight line and the Tech Sergeant chopped
her down with a brief press of the trigger. 

Back at the
helicopter, Helm was frantically pointing at Mayo as Anderson ran up.  Mayo had
stepped away from the helicopter to fire at the hostiles and had inadvertently
unplugged from the intercom.  Helm had no way to tell him the mission was a
bust and to get his ass back inside the Pave Hawk.  Anderson ran to him,
grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him with him as he ran back to the side
door. 

Helm had
throttled up the engines and the rotor was spinning just below take off speed. 
Blake was still pouring controlled fire into the approaching crowd and Anderson
was shocked to see Alpha leader, throat gashed open, stand up and stumble
forward with the rest of the hostiles.  He dove through the side door a split
second behind Mayo and slapped Helm on the shoulder.

The Pave Hawk
leapt into the air, gaining fifty feet of altitude in seconds before Helm
settled it into a stable hover.  Mayo strapped himself into the door gunner
support position and Anderson climbed forward and resumed his seat, clicking
the flight harness into place.  With his crew safely on board Helm pointed the
nose towards their home base and fed power to the engines.

I had kept a
vigilant watch on the tree line, frequently checking on the young Airman I’d
sent to the cabin cruiser while the Lieutenant had told his story.  Rachel had
returned quickly with the small zippered package, disappeared inside for a few
minutes then joined us in the open air to hear the story.  She had placed
herself on the rail next to me, so close that her shoulder and hip were
touching mine.  This was the first and only ‘intimate’ contact we’d had and I
knew she was sending a subtle message to these men that she was not available. 
I noticed both of them noticing, their eyes quickly sliding off of Rachel and
focusing on me.  Choosing to use me in her deception didn’t bother me at all.

“So how did you
wind up here?”  Rachel asked.

“We were on our
way back to our base.  Captain Helm got on the radio to let our CO know that
the SF team and our passenger hadn’t made it and that we were returning to
base.  We were told that our base was under attack by rioters, a fence had
already fallen and the administrative and support staff were all that was left
on the base and were being evacuated.  We were told to continue on to Fort
Campbell in Kentucky, even though we didn’t have our passenger.

“We changed to
the new heading and just a few minutes later we started getting an over temp
warning from the rotor shaft.  Sometimes those warning are false alarms so we
continued on when the temp didn’t climb any more.  We made it out over this
lake when the temp suddenly shot up.  Captain Helm aimed for the shore but
before he could set us down the shaft seized up and we spun in where you see
the helicopter now.  Captain Helm was trapped and it took us hours to bend and
pry enough of the metal away from him to get him out.”

“Where did the
houseboat and ski boat come from?”  I asked, enjoying my cigarette and checking
on Mayo.  He stood with his back to me, binoculars raised to his eyes as he
scanned the open water.

“They were here
just like you see them now.  There was no one here when we crashed, and no one
has returned.  We’ve got no idea where they went or what happened to them.”

I had a pretty
good idea what happened to them.  “So you’ve been here since you crashed?  We
saw you yesterday coming back from the south in the ski boat.  Did you do
something to stir up our friends, or were they just dropping in to say hello?”

“We were running
low on supplies and hadn’t heard much in the way of news, so we headed across
the lake.  There was a big marina and a bunch of stores we saw the night we
flew over.”

Lieutenant
Anderson talked for another fifteen minutes, telling us about finding an armed
camp at the marina huddled behind hastily erected barricades.  They had traded
one of their M4 rifles for food and were making their way back to their boat
when they were jumped by two men who wanted their packs full of food and their
other rifle.  They had fought back, killing one of the men but losing their
rifle and half the food in the scramble to get away as more men started chasing
them. They had made it to the boat and thought they’d made it back across the
lake without anyone knowing where they had gone.

“OK, so now you
know our story.  How about telling us how you wound up here?”  I agreed in
exchange for another smoke.  Blake handed me the pack and lighter with a smirk
and Rachel stole a cigarette from me as I lit up and started telling an
abbreviated version of our story.  As I spoke their expressions went from
cautious optimism to depression.  They knew a lot of the shit that had happened
to the US; knew about the nukes and had seen the infected firsthand, but they
didn’t realize the infection was so widespread. When I was finished both men
were wide eyed. 

“It’s amazing
you’ve survived,” Blake spoke up.  I had glossed over several details,
especially where Rachel’s abduction was concerned.  “You had to be Army or
Corps, am I right?”

“Army,” I
answered with a grin.  “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.”  I got
blank looks from everyone, Rachel included.  None of these people had ever seen
Star Wars?  Really?

“So, Lieutenant,
you’re a pilot?” I asked.

“Rotor wing
qualified, yes sir.” He answered, a puzzled look on his face.

“Well, the map I
have says there’s an amphibious plane facility to the south of us.  If we can
find a plane do you think you could fly us out of here?”

Anderson stood
up, the first sign of a smile on his dirty face, “I sure as hell can.  I was
flying single and twin engine light planes when I was still in high school. 
Never done a take-off or landing on water, but I’ve read about it and it
shouldn’t be a problem, just need more room to get into the air than a normal
runway.”  His excitement was infectious and Blake got to his feet also.

“Don’t get too
excited,” I warned.  I haven’t seen a plane, just a reference on a map. 

“It’s worth
checking out,” Blake said.

“I agree,”
Anderson chimed in.  “But where would we go?”

I told them
about Max, and the report I’d heard that Nashville was safe, at least for the
moment.

“Hell, yeah!” 
Anderson was excited.  “Nashville is maybe an hour away in a light plane, and
it’s only another half hour to Fort Campbell.”

“OK,” I said. 
“Tell me about everything you saw on your excursion south.”

They filled me
in and we pulled out the maps and identified that the seaplane facility was far
enough away from the marina that they might not have seen it if they weren’t
looking for it.  They were pretty sure it was outside the barricades the
survivors had erected, so we would likely have to deal with hordes of infected
to get a plane.

We talked over
the maps for most of an hour then started working on a plan to get a plane. 
Rachel checked in on Captain Helm who was out cold with a weak dose of heroin
in his veins to relieve the pain of his injuries, then took Mayo’s place on
watch aboard the cabin cruiser.  Mayo and Blake went swimming, recovering the
M240 door gun from the crashed Pave Hawk and three OD green cans of ammo
belts.  We were pleased to see the cans had remained dry inside when Blake
opened them on the deck of the houseboat.

Blake sent Mayo
back into the water to scavenge tools and parts while he stripped the machine
gun down for a thorough cleaning and oiling.  While we didn’t have any gun oil
we did have a can of WD-40 that I had found in the cruiser.  Not perfect, but
you make do with what you have.  At least it would provide enough lubrication
to keep the gun from seizing up at the wrong time.  I hoped.

Mayo kept
surfacing next to us, bringing back tools, a large assortment of thin walled
aluminum tubing and a good length of flex hose.  Blake would stop cleaning the
gun every time Mayo made a delivery, checking the items and giving him
instructions on what else to look for.  I had to give the young Airman credit,
he never once complained or argued, just kept going back under and finding what
Blake asked for.

Machine gun
cleaned and reassembled, Blake set it aside and started working on the
speedboat that Rachel and I had ridden over to them.  First he used the flex
hosing to extend the exhaust pipes down over the stern of the boat and into the
water, securing them to the hull of the boat with metal straps and screws.  He
accomplished this with a lot of splashing and cursing, but when he had me start
the engine after his modifications I was amazed at how quiet it was.

Next he set to
work with several lengths of the aluminum tubing and a large steel plate. 
First he mounted the plate to the deck of the speedboat in the bow, between two
thickly padded benches that lined each side all the way to the pointed nose of
the boat.  Plate firmly bolted to the deck he and Mayo started attaching the
tubing, tubes spread out at the bottom but meeting about four feet up from the
deck and forming a crude teepee shape.  They punched holes through the tubing
with a hand drill and gallons of sweat in the hot Georgia sun, then bolted the
whole assembly together and to the plate. 

Blake spent
another two hours working on a piece of metal that he finally attached to the
top of the teepee, then hoisted the M240 onto the makeshift pintle he had
created, securing it with two nuts threaded onto a thick bolt and tightened
against each other.  This arrangement would allow the machine gun to move
freely, but not come off the pintle without the nuts first being removed.  Work
completed he dove into the water to wash off the sweat.

“Outstanding
work, Tech Sergeant.”  I stuck out a hand and helped him climb back aboard the
speedboat.

“Thank you,
sir,” he grinned and wiped water out of his eyes.

“One thing
guys,” I said.  “Please stop siring me.  I was a Master Sergeant, not an
officer.”

Anderson looked
as surprised as a virgin on his wedding night and Blake let out a short bark of
laughter.  I had not bothered to correct their assumption earlier that I had
been an officer when I was in the Army, but I just couldn’t take all the “Sirs”
any more.  Anderson had shown himself to be one of those rare officers that
actually listened to his more experienced men so I didn’t think I was going to
have a problem with him trying to assume command.  If I did I’d deal with it. 
We were about to try and penetrate a hostile facility and make off with an
airplane.  This was my world, and I’d done something very similar before, minus
hordes of infected that wanted to eat me.

“All right,
let’s get something to eat and then get some rest.”  I said, watching Anderson
out of the corner of my eye to see if he was going to have a problem with me
still giving orders.  When he didn’t make a peep I continued.  “We’ll take two
hour watches and I’ll take first watch.  We’ll review the plan at 0100 hours
and launch at 0130.  Everyone good with that?”

Heads nodded all
the way around and Blake gave me a nod and a wink to let me know he was happy
to have me in command.

An hour later I
sat on the flying bridge of the cruiser, halfway through my watch, eating the
Spartan meal that Rachel had brought up to me.  She sat next to me, sipping
from a bottle of water.

“Think we can
pull this off?”  She asked, stretching her long legs out and propping her feet
up on the bridge railing.

“I think we’ve
got a good shot at it.”  I answered around a mouthful of pork and beans. 
“However, we don’t know how many infected are going to be waiting for us.  The
planes might not be fueled with no way to fuel them.  There might not even be
any planes there.  We’re going in with no intelligence, which is never a good
thing, but it’s the best we can do.

“Ideally I’d
take a quiet ride down there tonight to scope things out and delay the
operation until tomorrow night, but with the herd moving north that Max talked
about I don’t think we have time.  It’s probably tonight or never.”

Rachel finished
her bottle of water and looked up at me, “Well, you’d better not fuck it up
then.”  She said, grinning to let me know she was just yanking my chain, then
stood up to go check on Captain Helm before her watch started.  The newly
quieted speedboat started and before it reached the houseboat only a hundred
feet away I could no longer hear the exhaust.