Days Of Perdition: Voodoo Plague Book 6 (21 page)

US Navy Commander James McFadden stared at the high
definition monitor displaying Admiral Packard’s image.  McFadden was the
Commanding Officer of the USS Alaska, an Ohio class nuclear powered submarine.  At
the moment he was unhappy to be sitting at periscope depth, just below the
surface of the Pacific Ocean to facilitate the video link with the Admiral.  In
the depths of the ocean the Alaska was virtually silent, nearly impossible to
detect.  She was one of the most devastating war machines ever conceived and
built by man.  Sitting near the surface, gently rolling in the low Pacific
swells, Alaska was a sitting duck.

“The helo that’s inbound to your current location has the
personnel and equipment onboard that’s needed to make this happen.”  The
Admiral said.

“I’m not clear on why we’re not going after targets in
Russia, sir.”  McFadden replied.

“I’m not entirely clear myself,” Packard said.  “But the
experts say they can bypass most of the fail safes and allow an orbital
detonation, but can’t make the device function as a strike weapon.  I don’t
understand what they’re doing, or how they’re doing it, but I trust they know
what they’re talking about.

“You will provide them with any and all assistance they may
require.  You are to launch as soon as capable.  Any further questions?”  The
Admiral raised his eyebrows but his tone made it clear he didn’t expect
another.

“No, sir.  Good to go.”  McFadden replied.

“Thank you, Jim.”  Packard said a moment before breaking the
connection.

Closing down his end of the communication, McFadden shook
his head, stood up and exited into the cramped passage outside his cabin.  He
pulled up short in surprise when he nearly ran into an overweight man wearing
civilian clothing.  Looking around he saw another man in civvies, two Master
Chiefs he didn’t recognize and the boat’s Executive Officer (XO), Lieutenant
Commander Danny White.

“Admiral Packard’s personnel have arrived, skipper.”  The XO
called out over the heads of the men.

“I can see that, XO,” he answered with more sarcasm than he
intended.  “Get us back below the layer.  I’ll take them from here.”

McFadden was referring to the point in the ocean where there
is a significant difference in temperature between the surface that is warmed
by the sun and the deep, cold water that remains almost a constant temperature
year round.  Sound waves have a very difficult time penetrating the layer where
the two different water temperatures meet.  A submarine is safe when it is deep
and quiet, and getting the Alaska back into the dark, cold water would protect
it from detection by any surface vessels or aircraft.

“Aye aye, skipper.”  White said, making a quick about face
and disappearing down the passage.

“Gentlemen, follow me.”  McFadden said to the new arrivals,
not taking the time for introductions.

Ten minutes later he had left the specialists in the capable
hands of the boat’s Weapons Officer, or Weps, Lieutenant Michael Sherman.  As
he walked into the control room a Senior Petty Officer announced his presence
and he quickly asked for reports on their status.

“We’re just passing through the layer, skipper.  Heading is
040 and we’ll level out at 600 feet with a thousand fathoms under our keel. 
Sonar is clear.”  The XO informed him then came over to stand next to McFadden.

“What’s up, sir?”  White asked.

“You know those sat images we were watching of the huge
herds moving across the country?”  He waited until the XO nodded.  “Turns out
the Russians are causing it.  They’re using high-energy pulses from satellites
to create a harmonic tone on the surface that draw the infected in.”

“What’s that got to do with us?”  White asked, his forehead
wrinkling in confusion.

“We’re going to take out the satellites.  The experts that
the Admiral sent us claim they can remove enough of the safeties on our
Tridents to enable the warheads for detonation in low orbit.  When they’re
ready, we’re going to launch eight birds.

“The experts on board the Washington believe that the
Russians must be using geostationary satellites that are over CONUS
(Continental United States) and that if we spread the missiles across the
country and detonate them as the Tridents reach apogee, the EM pulse will take
out all the Russian satellites.”  McFadden answered.

“Uh, sir, that’s also going to take out all of our orbiting
birds as well as most likely fry the electronics in anything on the ground.” 
White sounded shocked that this was the best plan available.

“And in the air, but apparently that’s the trade off we’re
willing to make.  Oklahoma City has the largest concentration of survivors and
right now there are three separate herds that have been spotted that the
Russians are drawing in to the area.  Total numbers of infected bearing down on
Tinker are estimated at greater than forty million, and growing.  This is the
only idea anyone has come up with to stop them.”

The XO’s mouth fell open in shock at the news.  “Why can’t
we just use a ballistic missile and take out the satellites that are
transmitting the signal?”

“We don’t know which one, or ones, to target.”  McFadden
answered.  “But we’re not done with the first eight Tridents.  Ten more are
going to Russia.  We can’t strike them, but we’re going to fry every piece of
electronics they have.  After that, we’re all back to the stone age and when
the bullets run out we can start throwing rocks and sticks at each other
again.”

White stood there with his mouth open, staring at his
Captain.  He hadn’t lost anyone in the attacks as he was an only child whose
parents had already passed away.  Single, his life had been the Navy for the
past 15 years.  For him, the reality of the world coming to an end was finally
hitting home. 

He’d counseled numerous crewmembers that had lost, or
suspected they had lost, their entire families.  But the enormity of the
deathblow the Russians had dealt to the world hadn’t really sunk in until he
contemplated life without any piece of technology more advanced than what was
around 100 years ago.

McFadden and White turned when Lieutenant Sherman walked into
the control room.

“How are our guests doing, Weps?”  McFadden asked.

“They seem to know what they’re doing, skipper.”  He
answered.  “Missiles one and two are done.  I watched what they’re doing and
it’s really clever.  Never would have thought of it, but one of those civilians
is a damn genius.”

“Which one?”  The XO asked.

“The fat one, sir.  Sorry, can’t remember his name.  He’s a
lead engineer from Lawrence Livermore Labs.  He was on vacation in Hawaii when
the attacks happened.  He knows this gear better than he knows his wife’s ass.”

McFadden couldn’t help but snort a quick laugh at the image
Sherman’s comment put in his head.

“He can’t enable them for use against terrestrial targets?” 
White asked.

“No sir.  He’s exploiting a hole in the security to enable
the warhead, but as you know all of our birds are MIRVs.  There’s no way to get
into the systems that control the separation, targeting and detonation of the
individual warheads.  They’d just thud down and dig a hole without going
boom.” 

MIRV stands for Multiple Independent Reentry Vehicle.  Each
Trident missile actually carried three nuclear warheads that would separate
after the missile reached apogee above the Earth and began reentering the
atmosphere.  Each of the warheads can be programmed for a different specific
target, or all to the same target, but the deeper level of security that
controlled the MIRV function couldn’t be compromised.

“Thanks, Weps.  Let me know as soon as we’ve got all 18
ready to fly.  We’ll come up to launch depth, shoot and scoot.  I don’t doubt
for a second the Russians are watching for something just like this and have a
present ready to send our way as soon as they see a launch.”  McFadden said.

“There’s how many?”  I asked, surprised at what Zemeck was
showing me.

We were in the back of the Osprey, bent over a small tablet
computer that was displaying a two hour old satellite thermal scan of the
casino, courtesy of Captain Blanchard.  The resolution was quite good and there
were multiple white dots within the faint outline of the large building.  Each blob
represented the heat signature of a human body.

“Sixty seven,” Zemeck repeated.

“Infected?”  I asked, moving the tablet closer to my face
for a better look.

“Don’t think so,” he replied.  “Put the loop in motion.  You
can see them moving calmly around.”

Zemeck stabbed a small, right facing arrow at the bottom of
the image with an index finger the size of a sausage.  As the time bar next to
the arrow began progressing I could see many of the figures moving about, but
they moved in a coordinated and apparently intentional manner, unlike the
randomness of the infected.  Several could also be seen walking what was
clearly a security patrol pattern.

“Shit,” I said as the loop ended and the motion on the
screen reset to the beginning and froze.

“Yep.  Does this psycho have a bunch of friends?  That why
he came here?”  Zemeck asked.

“Don’t know.  Maybe, or maybe it’s just another group of
survivors that he’s hooked up with.  Did you notice this?”  I asked, pointing
to a large concentration of blobs at the edge of the superimposed outline of
the building.  Rachel and Martinez squeezed forward to see over my shoulders.

“Prisoners is my guess,” Zemeck said.  “Too many bodies too
close together to be much of anything else.”

I grunted my agreement and kept looking at the tablet. 
Putting the loop in motion again I watched the blobs that were working
security.  Watched how they moved and where they went and how fast they were
moving.  Pulling out the rough floor plan that Stephanie had drawn for me I
compared it to the image on the tablet screen. 

“Best way in is from the roof,” I said pointing to a spot on
the paper.  “It’s the far end from the main concentration of people and there’s
only one guard that’s going through that area of the casino.  Well, there was
only one when this was recorded, but if they haven’t had any problems they most
likely won’t have changed anything.”

“Agreed.  How do you want to do this?”  Zemeck asked.

I rocked back on my heels and thought about the question. 
Between Stephanie’s sketch and the thermal scan Zemeck had brought with him I
had some really valuable intel, but nothing that told me who these people
were.  Were they innocent survivors?  In normal times the presence of what
appeared to be a group of prisoners would have concerned me, but now?  They
could be holding Roach and other bad guys.  There were a ton of possibilities
and there was only one way to find out.

“I’m going in alone to recon,” I said.  “If this is just a
group of innocents trying to survive, then I’ll introduce myself, collect my
wife and be on my way.”

“You realize the odds of that are pretty damn slim?” 
Martinez spoke up.

“I do,” I replied, eyes still glued to the tablet.  “And if
these are bad guys I’ll be inside to clear the way.  I’ll call you on the radio
and we’ll do what needs to be done.”

“You shouldn’t go in alone,” Rachel said, and I recognized
the stubborn tone she could take when I was proposing something she didn’t
agree with.  I started to turn around to talk to her but Zemeck beat me to the
punch.

“That’s exactly what he
should
do,” he said.  “He can
move faster and quieter by himself and if he’s half as good as he was the last
time I worked with him they’ll never even know he’s in the building.”

I looked at Rachel and while she didn’t look happy I could
tell she respected what the big Marine was telling her.  Reaching out I took
her hand and gave her a smile that she finally returned.

“And I brought you a couple of goodies,” Zemeck said. 

He released the bungee cords that were holding down a couple
of hard sided cases and dragged them in front of where he kneeled.  Before he
could open them the pilot, a Marine Captain, walked back from the cockpit.

“Gunny, we just picked up a distress call from an Army unit
that is in contact with a large group of infected.  They’re a hundred fifty miles
north of us and sound like they’re in a world of shit.”  He said.

“Go get them,” I said before Zemeck had an opportunity to
respond.  “There’s a perfectly good Pave Hawk on the roof down there if you
don’t make it back in time, and I’ve got the Air Force’s hottest pilot right
there.”  I hooked a thumb in Martinez’ direction.

“Thank you, sir.  I think you’re pretty hot too.”  She
quipped.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said grinning, standing up and
grabbing the tablet and sketched floor plan.  “I was referring to your flying
skills.”

Zemeck hoisted the cases he had brought along and we all
walked down the rear ramp.  The two Marines that Zemeck had brought with him
were keeping watch at opposite ends of the Osprey, Dog sitting next to one of
them with a dejected look on his face.  A stick was on the ground next to the
Marine’s feet and Dog was hoping he’d pick it up and throw it.

We decided to send the two Marines with the Osprey.  The
pilot didn’t know what kind of situation he’d be flying into and trying to
effect an extraction during a battle without anyone in the aircraft that wasn’t
involved in flying could be a hairy experience.  Besides, the mood I was in I
was ready to take on everyone inside the casino single-handed.

A few minutes later the Osprey’s engines started and the
ungainly looking aircraft took off to the south, keeping the terrain between it
and the large building I was preparing to assault.  As soon as they were off the
ground we loaded everything into the Explorer and turned ninety degrees to the
pavement and drove out into an empty field.  We’d been sitting in the open too
long for my taste and I was happy to move us into the concealment of a small
stand of trees on a ridgeline that overlooked the natural depression where the
casino sat.

Sheltered amongst the trees, Zemeck walked me to the back of
the vehicle and opened the cases.  First he handed me a set of NVGs that I
gladly accepted, along with a new, lighter tactical radio set.  From the second
case he pulled out a short-barreled Sig Sauer rifle and handed it to me with a
grin.  The rifle was half the length and weight of my M4, even with the long
sound suppressor screwed onto the end.

“MPX-K in nine mil,” Zemeck said, handing me a fully loaded
magazine.  “Nice and quiet with the suppressor.  Best CQB weapon I’ve ever
used.”  He meant Close Quarters Battle, which is what fighting in the casino
would be.

I nodded my appreciation as I removed my rifle and worked
the Sig’s sling over my head.  I spent ten seconds familiarizing myself with
the weapon, then emptied my vest of spare mags for the M4 and loaded up with
new ones for the Sig. 

“Do you know how to get on the roof?”  I asked Stephanie as
I was getting the new weapon settled on my body.  She shook her head and I
turned back to Zemeck.  “What else did you bring?”

“I looked the building over on satellite before leaving
Tinker and tried to think of everything we might need.  Got you covered,” he
said, pulling a pneumatic grappling hook launcher out of the apparently
bottomless case.  Smiling, I clapped him on the shoulder in thanks.

I gathered Zemeck, Rachel and Martinez around as Stephanie
kept an eye on the kids who were enjoying playing with Dog. 

“OK, here’s what’s happening.”  I began.  “We leave the
Explorer here with Stephanie and move to the right end of the building below
where the Pave Hawk is sitting.  I’m going up while you three stay at ground
level.  There should be an exterior door that I can open for you once I’m in
and recon is complete. 

“If you have to back off for any reason, infected or guards,
do it.  Don’t engage if you can slip away.  The last thing we need is a
commotion to draw their attention.  I don’t know how long it’s going to take me,
and I’ll keep you updated when I can, but you’re going to have to settle in and
be patient.”

This last part was for Rachel, and to a degree Martinez. 
Zemeck knew the routine and wouldn’t jump the gun, but this was new for Rachel
and I knew from experience that she wasn’t exactly the most patient person in
the world.  Not that I am, either, but she needed to understand that she didn’t
need to start getting antsy if I wasn’t back in fifteen minutes.

We talked for a couple more minutes, most of the questions
coming from Rachel.  When I was as satisfied as I was going to be that the
group was ready I whistled Dog over and gave Stephanie a brief explanation of
what was happening.  Having grown up in Oklahoma she knew how to handle a
weapon and how to shoot, so I felt better leaving my M4 with her in case she
needed to protect herself and the children.  With a last check of the gear on
my body I stepped off, leading the way down the gentle slope to the casino.