The Zone: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Infection Chronicles Book 1) (9 page)

“We don’t. But Mr. Carlisle is a tiger. A stuffed one.”

“But he’s got feelings, just like you and me.”

Delroy chuckled. “The major doesn’t have feelings.”

Steele shot Delroy a look.

“Everybody’s got feelings,” Chloe said.

Steele couldn’t believe he was having this discussion. “Yes, I have feelings. And I feel that this discussion is over.”

Delroy raced through the streets, driving around debris and the occasional stalled car. They were minutes from the landing zone when he caught sight of something in his rearview mirror. A four wheel drive truck had picked up their tail. “Major, we’ve got company. Six o’clock.”

Steele craned his neck back to see the truck several blocks behind them. It looked like they had a machine gun mounted in the truck bed. An improvised assault vehicle, and a lot faster than the APC. It wasn’t armored. It would be easier to take out. But the Vexpa wasn’t armored either.
 

“Lose them,” Steele said.

Delroy mashed his foot to the floor. “Looks like we’ve pissed off the locals.”

“Warning: exceeding maximum safe speed for roadway. Please slow down,” said the automated safety control. 

“What was that? Go faster?” Delroy said, taunting the automated control.

“I’m sorry, I think you misunderstood. Please slow down,” the sultry voice said.

“No can do,” Delroy said. 

“Chloe, do you have your seatbelt on?” Steele asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Steele wanted to radio ahead to Mitchell in the CAV and have him provide close air support. But this was a dark operation. There would be no radio contact. Radio chatter was monitored back at Z-SOC. They were on their own.

The Vexpa rocketed through the streets. Steele slid open the sunroof and stood up. From his tactical vest he pulled a few proximity mines. He clicked the arming button, and the black orbs came to life. A blue LED light blinked. In five seconds, they would arm.

Steele tossed them into the street. They bounced like jacks, then settled in the roadway. After five seconds, he could see the LED lights flash red, then go dark. The urchin mines were ready to go. Steele’s eyes clung to them as they sped away. The mines became tiny dots in the road. In a matter of seconds, the truck would trip the sensors.

 Delroy let off the gas a little, watching in the rearview mirror.

The truck came barreling down the street. Detonation in three… two… one…

But the truck slammed on its brakes at the last second. Tires squealed wafting plumes of white smoke in the air. It stopped just short enough not to trip up the sensor.

Steele scowled.

“Damn it. What gives?” Delroy asked.

The truck reversed, squealing backwards. Then it spun a 180 and roared in the opposite direction, then turned on a side street. The truck was an older Vantage 250, jacked up with massive tires.
 

“Go,” Steele said, dropping down into the cabin.

Delroy smoked the tires, and the Vexpa launched forward. “They can’t have a mine sweeper, can they?”

“They sure knew the mines were there,” Steele said.

Delroy made several quick turns, hoping to lose them. The truck was completely out of sight. With any luck, they’d hit the LZ and board the CAV before the thugs caught up with them.

Delroy kept weaving through side streets until they reached the extraction point. The CAV was nowhere in sight. But they were early—fifteen minutes to spare. Hopefully Mitchell would show. There was always the chance that Mitchell got diverted, or decided to back out. Steele knew the one thing that you could count on in the military was that plans change. And no plan ever survives the battlefield. 

Steele and Delroy leapt out of the vehicle. Parker followed with Chloe. She made sure to grab Mr. Carlisle. 

Steele scanned the area—everything looked calm. They were in the warehouse district, standing in front of a four story, brown brick building. Steele started grabbing bags of titrillium from the trunk and hefting them up to the loading dock. Delroy kept his weapon ready, looking for any sign of trouble. After Steele clanked the last bag onto the dock, he told Delroy to ditch the car.

Delroy slipped into the driver’s seat and took off in the Vexpa. He turned down the next block.

Steele grabbed Chloe and lifted her onto the loading dock. He and Parker climbed up as well. Several rows of vertical rolling doors lined the dock. They were covered in graffiti that had been spray painted long before the outbreak. There was a faded sign that read:
Receiving
. Below that was a wooden door. Steele jogged to the door and kicked it open.

The narrow beam of his tactical flashlight scanned the entranceway. Steele crept inside, weapon ready to fire. He cleared the room, then dashed back to the loading dock.
 

Delroy was running back from wherever he had ditched the car. Steele started loading in duffel bags into the building. After a few minutes, the titrillium was stowed in the entrance way.
 

Still no sign of the thugs in the truck.

“Parker, stay here with Chloe,” Steele said. “Delroy, come with me.”

Steele navigated his way to the stairwell. He pushed through the metal fire door. His flashlight beam scanned the staircase that spiraled upwards. Steele crept up, floor after floor, until he reached the roof access point. It was a hatch in the ceiling, locked with a padlock. A metal ladder hung down, providing access. 

“Shit,” Steele said, gazing upwards. “That’s a pain in the ass.” He was going to have to get 1200 pounds of titrillium up the narrow ladder and through the hatch. He grabbed a rung of the ladder and pulled himself up. 

Delroy watched.

When Steele reached the top, he smashed the padlock with his titanium fist. He pushed the hatch open, daylight poured in. The sky was dull and angry, and it looked like it might storm. He poked his head through and glanced around the rooftop. HVAC units and ductwork lined the roof. But it looked like there was enough clearance for the CAV to set down. Well, not set down completely. More like hover inches above the rooftop. There was no way the roof could support the full weight of a combat aerial vehicle.

Steele slid back down the ladder. His feet slammed onto the metal landing of the staircase. The clatter echoed down the rectangular stairwell. “Get up there. Keep watch for the CAV.”

Delroy flung himself up the ladder and disappeared through the hatch. Steele plunged down the staircase and snaked his way back to Parker and Chloe.

“Any sign of Mitchell?” Parker asked.

“Not yet.” Steele grabbed two duffel bags and plodded back to the stairwell. 400 pounds up four flights of stairs. Steele took the first step up the stairs. It was like a one leg, 400 pound squat. Another step, another squat. Steele’s face turned red, and the veins in his neck bulged. By the time he reached the top of the first landing, his quads were burning even more than usual. Step after step, he trudged up the stairs. His heart was pounding, and his chest was heaving for breath. Steele grunted and groaned, and his muscles filled with lactic acid. 

By the time he reached the fourth floor, he was sucking wind. Hard. He dropped one of the duffel bags, clamoring on the metal landing. He threw the other over his shoulder and climbed up the rungs. Once he was through the hatch, he slung the duffel bag off his shoulder onto the roof. Sweat was beading on his forehead. He could feel his fatigues beginning to stick to his back.

Steele dropped back down, grabbed the other bag and repeated the process. Only four more bags to go. Piece of cake. He was beginning to think that splitting the loot three ways wasn’t exactly fair anymore. But a deal’s a deal. 
I should at least charge a transport fee
, he laughed to himself.

The second trip up the stairs was worse. By the last trip. Steele felt like his heart was going to burst. He was drenched in sweat. His legs were rubber, and his knees felt like they had gravel in the joints. His muscles were on fire. His arms felt like they were going to rip out of their sockets. When he reached the fourth floor landing he felt like he was an inch shorter from the spinal compression. He dropped the bags and hunched over his knees, trying to catch his breath. Steele was strong and tough, but still human—for the most part.

Parker helped Chloe up the ladder, then followed behind. Steele lugged the last two bags up to the roof. Then he pulled himself through the hatch, closing it behind him. 

Delroy was keeping watch.

“See anything?” Steele asked.

“I saw the truck that was following us. And another vehicle. They passed by, then turned off.”

“They see you?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Any sign of Mitchell?” Steele asked. He tried to hide the concern in his voice. It was five minutes past the extraction time. 

Delroy shook his head.

“He’ll show.”

“How can you be so sure?” Delroy asked.

Steele shrugged. “I can’t.” Mitchell hadn’t ever been one to be late. But delays happen when on patrol. Sometimes, you go out on patrol and you never come home. Or you come home in pieces. 

Steele’s eyes squinted into the distant sky. He could barely hear the faint rumble of the Hughes and Kessler engines. He exhaled as a huge wave of relief washed over him.

Delroy tossed a smoke canister to mark the LZ. A plume of green smoke wafted into the air.

The CAV grew larger as it drew near. The rumbling engines grew louder. Soon, it was looming overhead, descending upon the rooftop. The air warbled with distortion below the massive HK engines. Touchdown in three, two, one. 

The landing gear pressed into the rooftop. The structure creaked and groaned. Steele could hear the locking mechanism release, then the back ramp dropped down. The hydraulics hissed and whirred.

Steele lifted Chloe and held her in his arm. He jogged up the ramp and secured her in the seat, fastening the safety harness around her. “Stay here.”

Chloe nodded.

Mitchell craned his neck back and glared at Steele from the cockpit. He threw his hands in the air. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t bring her on board,” he yelled.

The roar of the HK engines was deafening. Wind and dust whipped around the cargo hold.

Steele ignored Mitchell and ran back down the ramp.  Delroy and Parker passed him, lugging in a duffel bag.  Steele grabbed two more bags from the rooftop and trudged back up the ramp. Mitchell had climbed out of the pilot’s seat and was waiting for him.

“This wasn’t part of the deal. What if she’s infected?”

“She’s not infected,” Steele said.

“You don’t know that. And what the hell are you going to do with her when you get back? How are you going to explain where she came from.”

“Double. I’ll pay you double what we initially agreed upon.”

Mitchell’s eyes widened. He pondered this a moment. “Triple.”

“Done,” Steele said without hesitation.

“We’ve got to go.”

“Fifteen seconds.” Steele dashed back down the ramp and grabbed two more bags. Parker and Delroy grabbed the last one. 

Soon, they were all aboard the CAV and the ramp was lifting. Mitchell engaged the thrusters and the HK engines revved higher. The hydraulics hummed and the ramp clamored shut. Steele strapped himself into a seat and took a deep breath as the CAV ascended.

Steele knew better than to think that they had made it. But they were pretty damn close. He couldn’t help but let a thin smile curl up on his lips. And Steele wasn’t one to smile very often.

Delroy was grinning from ear to ear, hooting and hollering. “What’s the first thing you’re going to buy, Parker?”

“A ticket to anywhere you are not,” she said with a wink.

“That sounds great. Maybe we can go together.”

Parker rolled her eyes.

A warning alarm sounded from the cockpit—urgent and menacing. Steele’s gaze snapped to the sound. He knew exactly what it was—and it wasn’t good. He had taken enough enemy fire in CAVs throughout his career to know the different warning indicators very well. This was a proximity alert. A surface to air missile had been deployed and was rocketing toward them.

“DEPLOY COUNTERMEASURES,” MITCHELL yelled, frantically. 

Flares launched and hung in the air, burning hotter than the exhaust from the HKs. Effective against heat-seekers. Not so much against guided RPGs. Most modern rockets were wifi enabled with a forward facing camera. You could easily sync the rocket with your mobile device, then pilot the rocket from your view screen.

That’s exactly what the thugs on the ground had done.

Mitchell banked the CAV hard, trying to evade the missile. Steele felt plastered against his seat from the G force. The proximity alarm blared, pulsing faster as the rocket raced closer. Soon, it was a solid tone.

KABOOM!

The rocket exploded. The thunderous blast was deafening. The jolt was almost enough to snap your spine. Shrapnel ripped through the armor-plated hull. The blast tore open the bulkhead. Hot wind and smoke whipped through the cabin like a hurricane. The CAV twirled out of control, plummeting toward the ground.