The Doomsday Infection (23 page)

“Blowing things up?” the President said aghast. “Like what?”

“So far,
erm, a house, some boats, a trailer park -”

“And we can’t catch them?” He threw his arms in the air again in disgust.

“Our guys on the ground have to investigate, sift through the evidence, look for clues, it’s all too time consuming, sir. We’re running around south Florida like headless chickens. Meanwhile we need to strengthen our road blocks, and have more troops guarding the perimeter, we’re spread too thinly.”

“While I agree that makes sense, we still need to find the terrorists, and this latest development has all the hallmarks of guerrilla attacks, wasting our time chasing after ghosts,” he paused for the longest moment. “OK, here’s the deal. We’ll pull back the troops to a safe distance, double up the perimeter, double up the patrols, and send in more airplanes and drones to track those traitors. We’ll use the precision of our superior technology to catch these bastards.” He smiled for the first time in ages and finally felt like he was back in control. “Then we’ll send in an elite forces squad with the sole aim of eliminating Doc
tor Garcia and her accomplice.”

CHAPTER 31

12:00 MIDDAY

Captain Phillips of the aircraft carrier USS Thomas Jefferson decided to see the calamity with his own eyes. He skippered the navy launch rescue boat, on the search for the missing craft from the previous evening, along with crewmembers Gomez and Lieutenant Harvey. They wore the heavy orange hazmat suits for their protection.

Captain Phillips, a rugged war-horse stood at the helm and directe
d the craft into the entrance of the Intracoastal Waterway river following the route that his launch crew had taken the night before, chasing the renegades.

“You sure this is right, crewman?” the captain’s voice sounded metallic through his mouthpiece.

“Aye-aye, Captain. We were tracing them, they went up this inlet to the inter-coastal highway and then we lost contact.”

“What time was this?”

“2200 hours, captain. Then we lost them,”

The captain
snorted his derision. “Gone AWOL, more like. You wait until we catch up with those no good bums.” He looked left and right as the naval craft chugged into the wide mouth of the river. He turned the craft and kept up his vigil, as did his two companions.

After a moment, Gomez pointed and shouted frantically. “Captain, look!” He pointed at the smoldering remains of the naval launch.

“Damn those no-good lazy bastards! I’ll have them court marshaled for destroying navy property.”

“I don’t think
they went AWOL, Captain.”

“Why not?” he asked nastily.

“Because, that looks like one of them over there.” He pointed at a body floating between two moored speedboats. The captain maneuvered the craft near to the corpse. Gomez leaned out of the craft, which was extremely difficult as his hazmat suit restricted his movements. He grabbed the body under the shoulders, to get the best purchase, put his foot on the edge of the craft preparing to take the weight, then heaved.

The upper torso of the sailor shot out of the river covering them all in water, then straight up over the top of Gomez’s head wh
ere he let go of it in surprise, it sailed over them all and splashed back into the river.

“What in God’s name are you doing, crewman?” the captain asked.

“Didn’t you see it, Captain? It’s only his head and shoulders.” Gomez looked nauseous and went to retrieve the body. He splashed the water towards the boat to bring the corpse closer. The body turned in the water and bobbed towards the boat.

Even the battle-hardened captain recoiled at the sight of the head, whi
ch various marine life had nibbled, leaving two black cavernous holes, where the eyes should have been. “Get it in the craft, we’ll identify him and see that he gets a proper burial.” He looked heavenward and said a few words of prayer silently to himself.

Gomez and the lieutenant dragged the man’s
upp+-er torso into their boat. Gomez had to fight with himself not to puke as he handled the corpse, severed below the rib cage. The ribs shone brightly in the morning sun, internal organs fell from the body into the craft as they hauled it in.

“He’s been gotten at by ‘gators,” the captain said casually. “I’ve seen these bite marks b
efore. This is a timely reminder that the waterways of Florida are not safe.”

Gomez gulped and looked into the murky river trying to see this silent enemy. “I thought all the alligators were in the Everglades.”

“They are everywhere,” the captain replied. “It’s common for an odd ‘gator death this far down, a couple a year usually. But now, without all the noise of the boats and tourists maybe they’re getting braver and trying out new territories,”

The lieutenant pointed at a limb floating in the water near them, he reached out to get it, then suddenly pulled his arm back in as if he expected the snapping jaws of an alligator to spring from the water. He waited until the craft was upon it, the
n quickly snatched the leg and hauled it aboard.

Gomez gagged once more, and could tell that it too had a clean bite mark in it. “Would an alligator attack the crew?” he asked to cover his nausea.

“No way. The renegades somehow overpowered them and left them as ‘gator food.”

“Does this leg belong to that torso, or is the leg all we’re going find of this sailor,” Gomez asked.

“That leg does not belong to that body, sailor. I’d say this leg is Chinese, certainly oriental.”

“Che
n,” Gomez said flatly.

“Captain?” the lieutenant called his attention with hope rising in his voice. “I think there is another one over there on the lawn behind the cruiser. I think its breathing - I think he’s still alive!”

The captain steered the naval craft to where the lieutenant had indicated, and they disembarked slowly, so as not to dip their feet into any part of the river after seeing the damage the mighty jaws of an alligator could inflict. Gomez flipped the person over. “It’s Matthers, Captain - he’s still breathing.”

The lieutenant bent closer. “Can you hear me
Matthers? You’re safe now, wake up.” He did not respond. “He’s trying to say something.” He leaned in closer to Matther’s mouth, but could not understand him. “I can’t hear him coz of this damned helmet.”

He went to take it off when the captain grabbed him roughly by the wrist. “Do not remove your helmet.”

“I can’t hear him, Captain.”

“That’s an order, sailor.”

The captain bent near to Matthers whose eyes started to flutter. “Help me. . .” he croaked. “I need water . . .”

The captain hooked his arm under his head and raised him up. “I need you to look at these photos, it’s imperative to our mission that we capture the terrorists. Was this person involved?” Captain Phillips held up a headshot of Sophie. “Was she the terrorist that did this?”

Matthers eyes focused on the photograph, but then he looked as if he would pass out again. The captain shook him, “Matthers! Look at the photo, that’s an order. If she was involved nod your head.”

Matthers
stared at the photo for the longest time, and then almost imperceptibly nodded.

“I knew it,” said the captain. “Now we have some solid proof. I’ve got to speak to the ship
so they can let high command know.” He hopped back onto the craft and picked up the radio.

Matthers
tugged on Gomez’s sleeve, but he still could not hear through the plastic visor of his helmet. “What? What you saying? Can’t you speak louder?” Gomez begged.

Matthers
beckoned to Gomez, who looked around shiftily then quickly whipped off his helmet, leaned down to Matthers who said; “Tell your sister . . . that I love her . . .”

Gomez swiftly donned his helmet. “You can tell her yourself, buddy, because you are going to make it.” He smiled at his friend and fiddled with the catches of his helmet.

The captain turned sharply and almost caught him. “Did you take your helmet off?” he asked in disbelief.

“No, Captain, not me. Getting hot is all,” h
e lied weakly.

“Come on we’ve got to go,” the captain ordered.

“Aren’t we taking Matthers, Captain?”

“Don’t question orders, boy.”

Gomez was not about to give up on his friend. “What about, Matthers?”

“He’s a plague victim, you’ll deal with him the same as anyone else suffering with the Black Death,”

“He’s one of our own, sir.”

“You know what to do, Gomez.”

“W – What do you mean, Captain?” Gomez asked, with a quaver in his voice.

“He’s been exposed. He’s a darkie. Dispatch him.”

“I can’t, Captain, he’s marrying my sister. I’m going to be the best man, please, Captain, there must be something else we can do?” Gomez said.

The captain nodded to the lieutenant who had no qualms, as quick as a flash and much to Gomez’s utter horror, shot
Matthers between the eyes.

CHAPTER 32

13:00 PM

Several miles upriver Sophie and Luke watched in amazement as the tall mast of an eighty-foot yacht drifted slowly toward them along the Intracoastal Waterway. They crouched in some bushes, near to the water. “How the hell did that get on the river?” Sophie asked.

“Beats me.” H
e shrugged as the tall mast snapped the overhanging tree branches. “Maybe it drifted in from the ocean.”

“But it’s under engine power,” she said, “I can hear it.”

“Perhaps it has some sort of GPS and is trying to re-correct its course.”

“So you think it will continue all the way down the river to the tributary we came in on?”

“That’s my guess,” he said.

She smiled, “
Y’know that would make one hell of decoy. They would think we’re miles south, while we head north.”

“Cool. What weapon do you have?” he asked her.

“One flare left. That’ll have to do,” she waited for the yacht to draw level, then lit the flare and tossed it onboard. “Fingers crossed,” she smiled.

“You never know, what with all this dry weather, it could catch alight.” 

13:30 PM

Gomez sat at the back of the naval motor launch staring at the corpses of Matthers and Weston along with the leg of Chen. He sat in silence, not daring to speak after watching his friend and fellow sailor murdered in cold blood. He formulated the letter he would send right to the top, to Vice-Admiral Reed. He would report this to the highest level. There is no way he would let the murder of his best friend go unchallenged. He would complain vehemently that the killing was unlawful, that Matthers had still been alive and who could say if he was going to recover or not. They had not tested him to determine whether Matthers had the disease, they just shot him dead anyhow and then tossed his lifeless carcass onto the boat like an old garbage sack. Matthers’ dead eyes stared at him accusingly and he had to look away.

The captain spoke on the radio; “Affirmative, we’ve identified the remains of
Matthers, Chen and Weston. They have been informally identified and will be buried at sea in accordance with our mandate, thank you, Vice-Admiral.”

The captain turned to Gomez. “Over the side with them, we can’t have them contaminat
ing the ship, now can we?”

Gomez’s face registered absolute horror. “B - but, Captain,” he stuttered unable to believe his ears.

“Why does everything have to be an argument with you Gomez? You do not question the chain of command, when I give an order you damn well follow it – no questions, is that understood?”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Gomez said flatly.

“We are going to need to have a serious chat about your future on my ship, affirmative action or not.”

The racist
remark hit Gomez like a slap in the face, but he snapped to it, like a good sailor. However, this was not over; he would make sure of that. With the help of the lieutenant, he heaved the carcasses of Matthers, Weston and the leg of Chen to a watery grave. Gomez crossed himself and sat back down, his head had started to throb, but unable to rub his head, or ease the pain thanks to the goddamned helmet and hazmat suit.

The Captain turned to him. “If I found out that you removed your helmet out there you will be put on a char
ge for disobeying a direct order.”

14:00 PM

“I think this should
be enough to be going on with,” Luke said to Sophie as they taped a gas pump-handle open and laid it on the ground where it emptied gasoline all over the forecourt along with the other pumps he had doctored.

He hopped onto the motorcycle, Sophie clambered onto the back, and he kicked it over
, revved the engine then screeched away leaving a trail of rubber in their haste to put some distance between them and the gas station.

Sophie held around Luke’s middle with one arm, twisted to face backwards, held up Luke’s pistol and fired at the gas station. The first slug hit the forecourt harmlessly, she sighed and aimed more carefully, no mean feat, as the BMW motorcycle
rapidly accelerated up to 80 mph and she lined up the second shot and missed again. She flicked hair out of her eyes, held her arm straighter, squeezed the trigger gently, and fired.

This time the spark ignited the spilled fluid, which speedily whooshed up to the pumps, and in turn ignited the underground storage tanks. The garage erupted with a massive detonation that shook the earth. The roof flew up into the sky followed by black, billowing smoke, pluming into a mini mushroom cloud.

14:30 PM

The naval launch arrived back at the aircraft carrier, it bounced several times against the side of the massive ship and it took the Captain several attempts to attach the craft to the lifting apparatus. Eventually he managed the task and with a lurching motion, the craft slowly lifted from the sea, which seemed reluctant to release the small launch from its grasp. The boat swayed as it hoisted skyward, Gomez’s head pounded and he felt nauseous.

The lifting gear hoisted the launch to the top
and they had to swing inward to the ship. Various deckhands helped the shipmates to disembark. The captain lumbered out of the craft first, severely inhibited by the hazmat suit. The sailors on deck grabbed him by the shoulders to heave him onboard. The lieutenant went next, followed by Gomez, whose legs gave way the moment he was onboard. As they tried to help him up he sneezed violently, covering the inside of his helmet with mucus making the sailors recoil.

The Bubonic Plague would now contaminate the six thousand men crammed into the confined space of the aircraft carrier USS Thomas Jefferson. . . .