Transmission: Voodoo Plague Book 5 (16 page)

Even over the roar of the engines, rotor and air flowing
through the open door, I could hear Martinez start cursing in her native
tongue.  A moment later the helicopter began vibrating, the shaking rapidly
growing worse.

“Oh shit!”  Rachel screamed.

I snapped my head around to see what was wrong.  She was
staring through her NVGs out of the open side door.  I looked and the breath
caught in my throat.  A seething mass of infected was directly beneath us,
stretched out for miles.  The size of the herd had been described to me, but
nothing prepares you for seeing three million infected people, all moving
together with the sole intent of killing every living thing in their path.

Frantically pulling on a headset I shouted into the mic the
moment it was on my head.

“Martinez, talk to me.”

“Tail rotor damage.”  She answered, strain apparent in her
voice.  “I’m barely keeping us in the air.  We don’t have long.”

“Get a call out while we’re airborne.”  I said.  “The
Marines should be getting close to Midland.  They can come get us if you can
get some space from this herd.”

She didn’t answer, but I was confident she was on top of
things.  I also had no doubt that she needed every bit of concentration to keep
us in the air.  Checking on the infected, I looked back out the door and was
dismayed to see we were still flying over the herd.  Leaning out I made sure
Igor and Irina were still hanging on.  They were, and I didn’t worry too much
about them.  Igor seemed very protective of his Captain, and I suspected he
would hold on as long as there was an ounce of life in his body.

We cleared the edge of the herd a minute later, but it
seemed like we were losing altitude.  The shaking was growing worse and a high
pitched roar from the tail section had started up.  Leaning back out the door I
looked behind and estimated we were about two miles from them.  Not nearly far
enough with the speed and endurance of the females.  They’d run us down within an
hour, even with a two mile head start.

Another few minutes of flying and it felt like the
helicopter was going to shake itself apart and us with it.  Rachel had squeezed
herself into a corner, Dog wrapped in her arms and sitting in her lap.  A quick
check to verify our Russians were still with us and I spoke to Martinez.

“Did you reach the Marines?  I asked.

“Two and a half hours away, best case.”  She said through
clenched teeth.

“How much longer can you keep us in the air?”

“You want to land, we’re out of time.  Crash, maybe two
minutes if we’re lucky.”  She gasped.

“Put us down.”  I ordered.  “And don’t forget our passengers
hanging around below us.”

We immediately began losing altitude, faster than I liked,
but I was sure Martinez was doing everything she could.  Our speed came off
until we were barely moving as we descended.  Realizing what she was doing I
leaned out the door and watched.  As we continued down, the end of the line
brushed the ground, more of it quickly coming into contact with the desert
floor and being dragged through the sand. 

I could see Igor tighten his big arm around Irina and lift
her out of the loop she was standing in.  Damn that guy was strong.  Timing it
just right, he dropped her when they were only a couple of feet off the
ground.  She hit and tumbled across the ground, Igor jumping a moment later and
rolling to a stop next to her.

“Clear!”  I shouted on the headset and Martinez brought us
the rest of the way down to the ground.

To say it was a good landing would be kind.  But then I’ve
always heard pilots say that any landing you walk away from was a good
landing.  I guess I can’t really argue with that, but we hit hard.  Bone
jarring, teeth clacking, spine compressing hard.  Disconnecting my tether I
grabbed Dog from Rachel and pushed him out the door.  Unhooking her I pushed
her too before sticking my head into the cockpit to make sure Martinez and the
co-pilot were OK.

They had already shut down the engines and had their doors
open, ready to get out.  I didn’t waste another moment, following Rachel and
Dog out the side door.  Irina and Igor ran up and I turned as the two pilots
joined us.

“How far from the herd?”  I asked Martinez.

“Just over four miles.  You think they’ll follow?”

“Some of them are.  I was watching.  There’s a lot of them
going on to the battle site, but the whole edge on this side started peeling
off and following when we flew over.  We were loud as a washing machine and
really got their attention.”  I checked my watch.  “The first females can be
here in way less than an hour.  We’ve got to move and hope the Marines don’t
stop for a beer.”

We spent two minutes gathering supplies and equipment from
the helicopter and distributing it so that everyone was equally loaded.  Then I
squatted down over the backpack that Igor had rescued from the windmill. 
Pulling the flap open I checked the serial number and pulled out the correct
key.  Energizing the unit I paused. 

How long did I set it for?  How soon would the leading edge
of infected be here?  And how many of them?  I didn’t want it going off too soon
and only killing a handful of the fastest females.  On the other hand I didn’t
want it going off too late with thousands of them already past it and hot on
our trail.  For that matter, I wasn’t even sure we had anything to worry
about. 

By the time the infected arrived we should be at least a
couple of miles away.  Why was I worrying about them following us when we had
enough space between us that they couldn’t possibly know where we went? 
“Because you plan for the worst and hope for the best, dumb ass.” Was the
answer that went through my head.

Making my decision, I set the yield to max, or one kiloton,
and the timer to 45 minutes.  I had also debated what yield to use, racking my
brain to remember the training I’d received.  A 1 KT, or one kiloton, nuclear
detonation is equivalent in force to 1,000 tons of TNT.  A ground level blast
would create a lethal shockwave out to a radius of 500 meters.  The fireball,
which burns at one million degrees Fahrenheit, is lethal up to six tenths of a
mile.  Then there’s the initial pulse of radiation as well as secondary
fallout. 

The initial pulse would be lethal at a radius of half a mile,
even though it would take a few agonizing hours for you to die.  Secondary
fallout at three and a half miles, but this time several painful days of skin,
hair and teeth falling off your body as your organs shut down before you
finally succumbed.  Bearing in mind that all of these were
minimums
, and
hoping that I was remembering accurately, it was time to haul ass.  I wanted to
be at least four miles away when the damn thing detonated.  Nuke ready to go I
lifted it up and set it inside the Stealth Hawk.  Then we ran.

Igor and I may not have spoken the same language, but we
were both soldiers and understood the concept of fast movement with a small
group.  I took point and set the pace, Igor taking rear guard.  Dog ran next to
me, though to be fair he trotted.  I can’t move fast enough to make Dog
actually run.  Rachel tucked in behind us with Irina, Martinez and her co-pilot
filling in the middle.

It was my job to make sure we were moving fast enough to
reach all of the minimum safe distances when the SADM detonated.  It was Igor’s
job to make sure no one fell behind.  He would poke, prod or kick ass as
needed.  Oh, and we also had to keep our heads on a swivel for any infected. 
Assuming that the only infected in the area were in the herd would be foolish
and potentially suicidal.

I started us off fast.  Before the attacks I spent a lot of
time in the gym, lifting weights and running on a treadmill.  Normally I’d
start out with my first two miles at six miles an hour, then play with the
speed after that to break up the monotony.  My body was still familiar with
that routine and I settled into what I was confident was a six mile per hour
pace.  After five minutes I checked over my shoulder.  Irina and the co-pilot
were already showing signs of distress.  Martinez looked as relaxed as always
and Rachel gave me a smile.

Turning back to the front, I scanned our surroundings as I
ran.  Sand, rocks and cactus were all I saw other than an occasional coyote. 
Dog either saw or smelled his four legged cousins, growling as he trotted along
at my heels.  I was glad he didn’t decide it was a good idea to engage the
animals.  The last thing I needed was to have to go chasing after him.

15 minutes, or a mile and a half, into our run I stopped
when there was the sound of a body falling behind me.  Irina had tripped and
gone down.  Not seeing anything other than smooth, hard sand, I imagined she
was already at the limit of her endurance.  Igor stepped forward and helped her
to her feet.  I raised the NVGs and looked at her face.  She had already
reached her limit.

I met Igor’s eyes and he nodded, shrugging his pack off and
handing it to me.  My pack was still at the site of the ambush where I’d
dropped it to set up Martinez’ attack, so I slipped his over my shoulders. 
Igor stooped, pressed his back against Irina and grabbed her legs before
straightening up with her in a piggyback carry.  He bounced her a couple of
times to make sure he had a solid grip then nodded he was ready to start
running again.

I was starting to turn back to run when there was a
brilliant flash of light on the horizon behind us.  It was the SADM Igor had
armed and left at the site of the ambush.  Hopefully several hundred thousand
infected had pushed into the area looking for the source of the noise and had
just been atomized by the blast.  We stood rooted in place, watching for a few
moments as the incredibly hot fireball boiled skyward and created a mushroom
cloud.  Rachel came to stand next to me and took my hand in hers.

“It’s getting old watching nukes go off with you.”  She
whispered, eyes glued to the specter in the distance.

I squeezed her hand, but didn’t know what to say.  Settling
for putting more distance between the second bomb, and us, I got everyone
running again.  This time I moderated the pace a bit in deference to Igor’s
burden, and moved Martinez to run with him to make sure there was a sharp set
of eyes watching our rear that didn’t have a 110 pound woman as cargo.

Another twenty minutes of running and I brought us to a halt
with a raised hand.  Ahead, at the limit of the NVGs range, I could see
movement.  It was too far away for the goggles to resolve what it was, but I
didn’t expect anything moving in the desert tonight to be friendly. 

We were now three miles from the second bomb, and other than
secondary radiation we were clear of any danger it presented.  There was a
breeze blowing, as there always is in west Texas, and it was at our backs. 
That meant the fallout from the first bomb, as well as the one yet to detonate,
was coming towards us. Signaling everyone to take a rest, I moved to the back
of the group and whispered to Irina what was going on so she could fill in
Igor.  We needed to move, to keep opening the distance. 

Getting us moving again, I kept us at a walking pace this
time.  We needed to run, to get farther away from the bombs, but we also needed
to maintain some sound discipline so we didn’t alert whatever was moving ahead
of us in the dark to our presence.  Our scent would most likely do that as the
breeze was blowing directly across us in that direction.

I was keeping half an eye on my watch as we walked and at
the right time stopped and had everyone lie down, cautioning them not to look
to our rear until after the detonation.  Lying down didn’t have anything to do
with direct danger posed by the bomb.  When it went off it would light up the
entire horizon, drawing the attention of everything for miles around.  We were
between the movement I’d seen and the bomb, and I didn’t want us silhouetted by
the fireball when whatever was out there looked in that direction.

30 seconds after I got everyone on the ground, the bomb
detonated.  This one was much closer than the last one, and I felt and heard
the explosion.  The flash lit up the desert like noon, and the fireball cast a
glow like the fires of hell across the landscape as it climbed into the night
sky.  The extra light was compensated for and utilized by the NVGs and I was
finally able to clearly see what the movement was.  More infected.  Thousands
of them, perhaps tens of thousands.  And when the bomb went off they all turned
and started coming in our direction.

The approaching infected were maybe a thousand yards in
front of us, or a little more than half a mile.  I wasn’t worried about the
herd behind at the moment.  The closest ones had to have been at least a couple
of miles behind when the nuke detonated, most likely more.  Unless there were
some freakishly fast females that had somehow managed to track us, I didn’t
think there was any way there could have been any infected make it far enough
beyond the disabled helicopter to escape the blast.  And with that hellish
inferno in front of them, I wasn’t worried any longer about being tracked by
the slower ones.

But I was worried about the approaching herd.  I wanted a
better look, wanted to stand up so I could see, but there was still a lot of
light from the mushroom cloud behind me and I had no doubt there were females
that would see me if I stood up and silhouetted myself like an idiot.  I
settled for getting up on my hands and knees, hoping my shape would blend into
the surrounding terrain and I’d look like nothing more than a rock.

The herd was still coming directly at us, and it was larger
than I had first thought.  I was facing directly east, the herd stretched out like
a snake in its direction of travel, which had been north, and there were infected
across the entire horizon.  I couldn’t see an end to the mass of bodies either
to the north or south.  The only good news was that there weren’t any females
sprinting out ahead.  Yet.  That was no small amount of good fortune as a
sprinting female could cover 500 yards in about a minute.  Way faster than we
could.

We couldn’t go back.  Even as I kneeled there in indecision,
the wind was pushing fallout from not just one, but two nuclear bombs in our
direction.  It wasn’t a strong breeze, but it would be no more than an hour
before this entire area was irradiated.  The only positive was the sheer number
of infected that would receive a fatal dose of radiation, and that we probably
weren’t going to die from radiation poisoning.  The bad news – we were probably
going to get ripped apart and eaten before the fallout arrived.

Two options were all I could come up with.  Run north, or
run south.  Which direction would get us around the end of the herd faster? 
North would get us closer to the Marines that were coming to get us, so that’s
the way I decided to go.  Scrabbling around in the sand I gave the rest of my
group a fifteen second dump of what we were doing and why.  Nods and frightened
expressions answered me. 

Getting to my feet, I began running north.  I ran in a
crouch, bent at the waist, hopefully changing my profile enough that the
infected’s brains wouldn’t identify me as a human.  The others followed suit,
bunching up tightly behind me.  Irina had recovered somewhat while we’d been
stopped and ran on her own.  This was good, as I didn’t think Igor could have
carried her very far like this.

We ran for what seemed like hours, but was probably closer
to ten minutes.  Running bent over with your knees flexed is not a natural
position, and my legs and lower back had started burning before we had gone a
couple of hundred yards.  I was also trying to keep my head up to watch for
danger to our front as well as constantly looking to my right to check on the
approaching infected.

Another ten minutes and we had covered no more than a mile. 
Looking ahead I still couldn’t see an end to the herd and for a moment was
pissed that I hadn’t been warned about this second threat.  I’d been told there
was one herd.  Had they split apart at some point, or was this a completely
different group that no one had seen?  Dismissing my questions and anger until
there was time to actually worry about anything other than survival, I started
looking for a place to hide.

I had angled us towards the west, away from the infected, as
we ran.  My hope had been to buy time before they reached us, enough time to
clear the front edge of the throng.  But we weren’t going to make it.  They
were within 100 yards of us now, the length of a football field, and it was
only dumb luck that had kept us from being spotted.

50 yards ahead I could see a shallow, dry wash cutting
across the desert floor.  The two or three times a year it rained, the wash
would fill with a raging torrent of muddy water, but I knew it would be dry at
the moment.  Glancing behind I was glad to see everyone staying close.  Irina
was still running on her own, but Igor had moved next to her and had a firm
grip on her upper arm as he helped her keep moving without standing up
straight.

As we approached the wash I got a better look at it.  It was
only about five feet deep, the edges having been cut to a near vertical angle
by rushing water.  Maybe twenty feet wide, it wound across the terrain,
following the lowest ground which was where the water drained.  Would there be
infected in the wash?  Only one way to find out.

Putting on as much speed as I could, I dashed ahead, Dog at
my side.  I slowed enough when I reached the edge of the drop off to make sure
I wasn’t about to jump onto anything that would end my night, then leapt when all
was clear.  My boots came down in deep, soft sand that had been deposited by
eons of rain storms, Dog jumping down next to me and sinking in nearly to his
belly.

As the rest of my group made the small drop into the wash I
started looking for shelter.  I’d been in a lot of these washes as a kid, using
them to stalk the coyotes I liked to hunt.  I remembered those days well, and
knew that every time the wash made a sharp bend the water would carve out the
wall on the outside curve.  Most of the time there was rock that couldn’t be
carved out, but occasionally there was a soft spot and a nice, deep cave would
form.

Feeling the pressure of the approaching herd, I looked in
both directions, seeing two sharp bends, but neither of them had the shelter I
was looking for.  Making a decision that was solely based on not wanting to
move closer to the infected, I headed southwest in the wash.  Dog was growling
almost constantly now, and I realized he smelled the herd.  Had the wind
shifted, or were there infected ahead of us?  At the moment all I had time to
worry about was getting someplace where we could hide.    

Movement in the wash was just as difficult as I remembered. 
With every step my boots sank several inches into the loose sand.  With every change
in body position the sand under my boots shifted.  It was like trying to walk
on the dry sand on a beach.  Moving around a gentle curve we came to a sharp
bend and there was what I was looking for.  A deep undercut in the outside wall
of the wash.

The opening was only about three feet tall, another two to
three feet of hard packed sand and rock above it.  Rushing to the opening I
peered inside, thankful for the NVGs.  These undercuts make great dens for wild
animals, and nothing would have surprised me.  Rattle snake.  Coyote.  Bobcat. 
Javelina.  Mercifully, there weren’t any occupants.  Just a smooth, sandy floor
stretching to the back of the small space where the ceiling tapered down to
meet the ground.

Moving out of the way I waved the group inside.  Rachel was the
first one in and I told Dog to go with her.  He stood his ground staring at me,
not wanting to hide when he knew there was a fight coming.  I gave him a quick
hug, then shoved him through the opening just ahead of Martinez and her
co-pilot.  I really needed to learn his name.  Next came Irina, panting with
sweat dripping from her face.  Once she was in it was obvious there wasn’t room
for both Igor and me.  Not hesitating I motioned him inside. 

He shook his big head, but we were running out of time.  I
shook mine and pointed into the cave emphatically, eyes locked on his.  After a
moment he nodded and dropped to his knees and scrambled inside.  It took him a
moment to get all the way in and twist around to face the opening with his
rifle across his knees.  I kicked sand up in front of the entrance, then ripped
a creosote bush out of the ground and stuck it in the loose earth.  The
entrance was completely concealed.

Taking another few seconds I raked the ground at the cave
mouth with my foot, erasing the tracks leading inside.  No, I didn’t think the
infected could follow tracks, but there was no reason to chance it.  Basic
camouflage completed, I moved to the center of the wash and used my rifle’s
stock to begin digging.  The sand was deep and soft and it moved easily.  That
was good, because I could hear the approaching herd.

The scrape of feet on the desert floor.  The low, guttural
snarls from the males.  The frequent sound of a body falling as a male tripped
on something.  I happened to glance up and 20 yards away a pair of males bumped
their way around the closest bend in the wash.  While I was looking up, three
more fell over the edge, landing with dull thuds on the sand.  Within moments
they were getting back to their feet and resuming their march in my direction.

The hole wasn’t even three feet deep, but I was out of
time.  I had scraped it out in the shape of a shallow grave and threw myself
into it, hoping I wasn’t tempting fate.  Wiggling around I got on my back and
pulled as much sand over my body as I could before having to go absolutely
still and silent.  I lay on my back, rifle on the front of my body.  The Kukri
was in my left hand and Ka-Bar fighting knife in my right.

The males approached, dragging their feet through the loose
sand, constantly stumbling in the difficult footing.  I watched the first one
approach, dragging his shoulder on the far wall as he moved.  It seemed to take
forever, but he passed me without pausing.  The second one followed in his
footsteps.  Number three was also using the wall as a guide, but was on the
same side as the cave.  I was watching him approach when the sound of a pair of
feet landing in the wash drew my attention.

A female had jumped down from the edge and was stalking
along with her head lifted and slightly tilted to the side.  From ten yards
away I could here her sniffing the air, and she was moving directly for the
cave.  The male had continued, rubbing the sandy wall as he moved.  When he
reached the cave he tripped over the bush I had stuck into the ground, falling
face first to the ground right next to me.  I gripped my weapons tighter and
held my breath.

It seemed to take him forever, but he finally pushed off the
ground and slowly clambered back to his feet.  He started moving away from me
and I silently exhaled, then drew and held another breath as the female
approached.  She was moving stealthily, her actions and body language reminding
me of a cat stalking its prey.

The male kept moving, and I shifted my eyes to check for the
other two I’d seen fall into the wash.  They had stopped a short distance from
me and stood in the dark, swaying back and forth.  Something had to have
alerted them and I suspected they were listening and smelling for any prey in
the immediate area.  The female kept moving closer, finally coming to a stop
directly between the mouth of the cave and me.  I could see her looking around
and hear her sampling the air.  She knew we were close.

Suddenly she snapped her head to the side and looked
directly at the bush hiding my group.  I had heard nothing, but perhaps someone
had made the faintest of sounds that had alerted her to their presence.  She
turned to fully face the wall of the wash, back to me, and reached out to touch
the bush.  As her fingers started to wrap around a branch I moved.

One of the things that I’d been taught most of my life,
first in football, then later in the Army, is that when it’s time to go, you
GO.  Fast.  Hard.  Explosive.  And that’s what I did, coming out of the hole
and shedding sand like some kind of subterranean monster.  At least that’s what
I was going for.  Truthfully, I was probably a tad bit slower than I used to
be, but I was still fast.

As I came up I released the Kukri, leaving it lying on the
sand and reached out with my free hand.  Grabbing a fistful of the female’s
hair I pulled with all my strength.  Her head wrenched back as she started to
fall backwards onto me.  Before she could scream I stabbed into the side of her
throat with the Ka-Bar, slashing out and severing her trachea and both
carotids. 

Letting the momentum take us, I fell back into the hole and
pulled her on top of me where she thrashed and twitched.  I scooped the Kukri
out of the sand so I had a weapon in each hand again.  Blood fountained out of
her neck and rained back down on both of us.  Soon I was soaked, but she spasmed
one final time and lay still.  When her heart stopped the twin geysers of blood
stopped, then the smell of her voided bowels and bladder hit me. 

My kill had been quiet, and I was sure it hadn’t drawn
attention from the passing herd, but the two males that had been hanging back
listening had heard us and were stumbling forward in the sand.  I lay perfectly
still in my shallow hole with the dead female on top of me.  Blood covered my
face and had run down and pooled in one of my ears, but I didn’t dare move or
make a sound as the males approached.

I wasn’t worried about being able to defend myself against
them.  I had two blades, a pistol and a rifle.  What I was worried about was
having to defend myself, and in the process draw the attention of the whole herd,
which would come flooding into the wash and overwhelm all of us in seconds. 
The males came to a stop next to the dead female, sniffing the air as they
stood swaying.