Voodoo Plague - 01 (25 page)

The plane
responded sluggishly at first but quickly gained speed as the floats came up
out of the water and skimmed the surface.  Quicker than I expected the
vibration from contact with the lake’s surface ceased and Anderson pulled back
hard on the stick gaining altitude and turning as quickly as he could.  There
was a metallic ping followed by the sound of rushing air and a bullet hole
appeared in the floor of the plane only a few inches from my head, a matching
hole in the roof where the bullet exited.  Anderson kept us turning and dropped
altitude until we were barely skimming the surface of the lake.  His evasive
maneuvering must have worked because we didn’t take any more bullets that I
could see.

The flight back
to pick up Rachel, Mayo, Helm and Dog only took a few minutes and Anderson
never got us more than fifty feet in the air.  Landing on the water was smoother
than I expected, the plane decelerating quickly when the floats hit the
surface.  We taxied to the cabin cruiser, sitting dark on the lake’s surface,
and Anderson cut the engines and let our momentum take us the rest of the way
until the floats bumped the stern of the boat.  NVGs on, I could see Rachel
standing in the doorway to the salon, Dog at her side, watching as Mayo
scrambled over the stern rail and made a line fast to each of the planes front
struts.

“Nice flying,” I
slapped Anderson on the shoulder, happy to have survived another fight and
ready to get loaded up and in the air.

“Thanks, but I
need some help here,” Anderson answered, pain obvious in his voice.  I looked
at him through the NVGs but didn’t see anything wrong.  Pulling them off I
reached up and snapped on an overhead map light and immediately saw the blood
staining the arm of his flight suit around a large, ragged tear in the fabric.

“Fucking
infected was in the damn plane.  I opened the door and reached in to check the
instruments and he bit me, right through the flight suit.”

I leaned over
and popped the door open and yelled for Rachel.  She stuck her head in the
door, saw Anderson’s injury and shouted for Mayo to grab the first aid kit out
of the salon.  Climbing into the plane Rachel elbowed me out of the way so she
could check Anderson.  I made myself useful by taking the first aid kit from
Mayo and handing it to her before exiting the plane. 

“Where’s Tech Sergeant
Blake?”  Mayo asked, peering around me into the plane.

“I’m sorry,” I
said.  “He didn’t make it.  We got into a firefight with the people from the
camp and he took a bullet.”

Mayo nodded his
understanding and lowered himself to a seat on one of the benches lining the
cruiser’s stern deck.  I sat down across from him and absently scratched Dog’s
ears while waiting for Rachel to finish treating Anderson.  A few minutes later
they climbed out of the plane, Anderson’s flight suit cut away from his lower
arm which was heavily bandaged.

“How is he?”  I
asked Rachel. 

“The bite was
deep,” she answered, sitting down next to me.  “I’m pretty sure there’s nerve
damage and he lost a surprising amount of blood considering no arteries were
involved.  Infection is the biggest concern right now.”

“Infection!? 
You mean…”

“No,” She cut me
off.  “Not that kind of infection.  He would already have turned if that was
the case.  Just the good old fashioned kind.  The infection rate for bites from
a human are normally in the seventy percent range, and considering these things
are eating anything and everything… Well, God only knows what kind of bacteria
are swimming around in their mouths.”

“Can he still
fly?”

“Yes, I can
fly,” Anderson spoke up before Rachel could answer me.  “I can get us out of
here.  No problem.  Just some numbness in my arm and hand but that won’t stop
me from flying.”

“Alright.  Let’s
get loaded up and get the hell out of here before any more assholes from the
camp show up.”

We all stood up
and Rachel and Anderson started gathering all the gear in the cabin cruiser while
Mayo and I took the ski boat to collect Helm from the houseboat.  Helm was a
big man, about the same size as me, and it took everything both of us had to
carry him from his bunk to the ski boat, then once we were back to the plane up
and in the cabin.  When we finally got him situated and strapped in we were
both drenched with sweat.  Rachel checked him over and said he was as ready to
go as he’d ever be.  Untying the lines holding us to the cruiser I called for
Dog and he leapt into the cabin and settled down next to Rachel in the second
row of seats, Anderson and Mayo occupying the pilot and co-pilot seats.  I held
onto a wing strut and with one foot on a float pushed the plane away from the
boat with my other foot, climbed into the cabin and settled in next to Dog and
Rachel.

Anderson started
the engines and let them idle for a few minutes as the plane drifted a safe
distance from the anchored boat, then added some power and lined us up with the
open lake.  “Everyone ready?” He asked, eyes scanning the gauges.

“Let’s get the
hell out of here,” I answered, looking out the window at the cabin cruiser that
had been my home and safe haven for what seemed like months but was less than
two weeks.

“Here we go,”
Anderson said and shoved the throttles forward.  The plane responded and
quickly gained speed, lifting smoothly off the water and rapidly gaining
altitude.

We were all
quiet, each lost in our own private thoughts as the plane continued to climb
and turn towards the north.  I looked around at the world below us as we gained
altitude.  To the southeast there was an angry red glow that had to be the
remnants of the fire that had consumed Atlanta.  Closer to us and very visible
were the bright lights of the camp on the south shore of the lake, but other than
that one location there was not a single electric light to be seen for miles in
any direction.  The world was as dark as it had been a thousand years ago.  As
we made our way north there was the occasional camp fire visible below, but so
few for how many people had lived in the area.

We had been in
the air about half an hour when Anderson started looking around outside the
plane, then adjusted some knobs on the console and spoke into the headset
microphone hanging in front of his mouth.  He carried on a conversation for a
few minutes then made a slight adjustment to our heading.  Rachel poked me in
the arm and pointed out the window on her side of the plane.  Hanging slightly
behind and above us was another aircraft, only visible when its anti-collision lights
flashed. 

“We’ve got an
escort,” Anderson said loud enough for all of us to hear him.  “There’s a pair
of F-16s out there, one on our left wing and I’m guessing the second is on our
six – directly behind us – to make sure we don’t do anything stupid.”

“Do we need to
be worried?”  I asked, leaning forward and getting a grunt from Dog as I
disturbed his sleep.

“I don’t think
so,” he answered.  “I’ve given them a brief version of who we are and where
we’re headed.  They’re re-routing us, won’t allow us in to Nashville.  Makes
sense with everything that’s going on.  Guess we should be glad they asked
questions before firing a missile up our ass.”

“So where are we
going?”

“Arnold Air
Force Base.  It’s about 80 miles southeast of Nashville.  We should be there in
about another 20 minutes.”

I didn’t have a
warm fuzzy about being diverted to an Air Force base, but I could understand
why the military didn’t want us flying into Nashville.  Just because we said we
were red blooded American’s didn’t mean we weren’t really Chinese loaded down
with either a nuclear bomb or more nerve agent.  We’d just have to deal with
the military bureaucracy when we landed.

Fifteen minutes
later we started descending.  I peered ahead out of the windshield but saw no
lights.  It took me a moment to remember that all US Military installations had
to be on a war footing, and that meant blackout conditions at night.  Not that
it mattered as everything functioned off of GPS these days, but there was still
no reason to light up your base like a Christmas tree and make it even easier
for the bad guys.

As we continued
to descend Anderson maintained a conversation with who I assumed was an air
traffic controller on the ground and soon, directly in front of us and a couple
of miles ahead runway lights came on, unmistakable against the dark terrain. 
Anderson brought us down smoothly, the fighter jets roaring overhead as we
touched the tarmac, slowing quickly and turning left on to the first taxiway we
encountered.  Waiting for us was a Hummer with a flashing orange light on the
roof and a large illuminated sign on the back that simply read ‘FOLLOW ME’.

I could make out
the dim outlines of dozens of fighter jets as we followed the guide down a
taxiway that paralleled a row of hangars that were all closed up tightly and
completely dark.  Ahead was a gap in the row of jets and the Hummer turned into
it proceeding through the doors of a massive hangar that was completely dark
inside.  Anderson had turned off the plane’s landing lights when we started following
the guide and the Hummer was running with just parking lights and the orange
beacon on the roof.  When we pulled into the hangar the driver shut off his
lights and Anderson cut the engines off leaving the propellers to spin down in
the dark hangar.

From behind I
heard the rumble of the big metal doors closing, ending with a dull boom as
they met in the middle of the opening.  Immediately, lights hanging from the
ceiling flickered into dim existence, quickly brightening as they warmed up. 
Another Hummer waited for us, this one marked Security Forces in bold black
lettering on a white background which was the Air Force version of Military
Police.  Why they had to call them something different I never understood, but
ever since breaking off from the Army and becoming its own branch of the
military right after WWII the Air Force had worked hard to distinguish itself
from the Army much like an ungrateful child.  Beside the Hummer sat an Air
Force ambulance, two corpsmen standing in front of it with a gurney at the
ready.  Anderson must have told them to be waiting to take Captain Helm to the
base hospital.

A young Captain
stood next to the Hummer while a Staff Sergeant and Senior Airman carrying M4
rifles stood to his side waiting for us.  We popped the doors and climbed out,
Dog jumping down and coming over to stand between Rachel and I as the corpsmen
wheeled the gurney up to the plane and climbed aboard to check on their
patient.  Mayo held back by the plane as Anderson approached the MP Captain – I
know, Security Forces, but I wasn’t about to think of him as SF which meant
something entirely different in the Army – came to attention and saluted.  The
Captain returned the salute and they talked for a few minutes with frequent
glances in my direction. 

Anderson led the
Captain over, the two MPs following, and introduced him as Captain Roach.  At
one point I would have had to salute the kid, but now I wasn’t in the military
chain of command and could act like a civilian and get away with a simple
handshake.  We all watched as the corpsmen carefully lifted Helm out of the
aircraft.  He was strapped to a backboard and they expertly maneuvered him
through the door and onto the gurney.  They wasted no time in getting him into
the ambulance, driving to the back of the hangar where a door just large enough
for the ambulance to fit through opened up then closed quickly after they
passed through.

“Folks,” Roach
said, addressing Rachel and I both.  “Welcome to Arnold Air Force Base.  And
thank you for assisting Lieutenant Anderson.  We appreciate your patriotism.”

He appreciated
our patriotism?  Seriously?  Who the hell talks like that?

“We’ve got
accommodations for you, hot showers, food and clean clothes.  The intelligence
staff wants to speak with you first, then we’ll get you settled.  I do need you
to surrender your weapons to my men before we go any further.  Civilians aren’t
allowed to carry firearms on base.”

Roach turned
slightly at the waist and motioned the two MPs – oops, Security Forces members
– forward with a little wave of his hand.

“Not going to
happen,” I said.  My rifle was slung across my chest and my right hand was
resting on the pistol grip, index finger adjacent to the trigger guard and
thumb on the fire selector switch which was currently on SAFE. 

The two MPs
stopped and the Airman started to raise his M4 in my direction, but I was
faster on the draw getting my rifle up and sighted on him before he knew what
was happening.  His eyes opened wide in fear and he froze in place. 

“Son, you do not
want to find out what will happen if you point a weapon at me.”  I said,
stepping to the side to put some distance between Rachel and I in case bullets
did start coming my way.  The Staff Sergeant started to slide off to the side
but froze when Dog stepped forward with a low warning growl and Rachel drew her
pistol, keeping the muzzle in the low ready position.

“Enough,”
Anderson said, stepping forward and placing himself directly in front of my
rifle.  “No one is going to shoot anyone and everyone is going to keep their
weapons.  Let’s relax.” 

“You’re out of
line, Lieutenant.”  Roach said, but he didn’t step into the line of fire. 
“These civilians will surrender their weapons and if you interfere any further
I’ll have you brought up on charges for insubordination.”

Anderson looked
at Roach with his mouth open in shock.  I didn’t blame him.  I had encountered
officers like Captain Roach in my day and knew we were dealing with someone who
would resort to us actually shooting at each other in order to save face. 
However, I didn’t care.  In a normal world I would have willingly surrendered
my weapons to them, but this wasn’t a normal world and being unarmed could very
well be the difference between life and death, even in the middle of an Air
Force base.

“Lower your
goddamn weapons and stand down!”  A commanding voice rang out from the shadows
in the back of the hangar.  Heavy footsteps came forward and a large man
wearing an Army uniform and a Colonel’s eagle stepped into the light.  All of
the Air Force personnel snapped to attention and I slowly lowered my rifle and
motioned Rachel to holster her pistol.  The Colonel walked right up in front of
me and looked me in the eye for a long moment.  The name tape on his uniform
blouse read Crawford and he wore Airborne and Special Forces tabs as well.