Fulcrum: V Plague Book 12 (16 page)

“What the hell is that?”  Rachel said, sounding
spooked.

“Coyote,” I said, trying not to smile.  “They won’t
bother us.”

“They?”  Tiffany asked, still frozen in place.

“They run in packs,” I said.  “Don’t worry.  They
aren’t going to mess with three adult humans and a big, furry dog.”

Neither of them looked terribly convinced that we weren’t in
imminent danger, and I had to coax them into resuming our trek.  I didn’t
fail to notice that they were both walking much closer to me than before, their
rifles held tightly to their bodies as they nervously scanned our immediate
surroundings.

The coyote howled again.  This time, an answering voice
coming from the opposite side of the road.  Soon the pack was yipping and
singing all around us, and Rachel and Tiffany moved even closer.  This
continued for more than ten minutes, then they fell silent.  It was
probably a good thing the coyotes moved on as both girls were pretty freaked
out by then.

The eastern horizon had continued to lighten, and I pushed
my night vision goggles away from my eyes.  There was more than enough
early light to see without them.  The sun rose quickly, the way it tends
to do in deserts.  I caught a brief glint of light reflecting off
something far in the distance, directly to our front.  It was several
miles away but almost had to be chrome or glass to have flashed as brightly as
it did.

Neither of the girls had seen it, and I kept the information
to myself.  I’d probably just seen the town that was our destination, but
there was no guarantee that it was a vehicle that had caught the sun.  It could
just as easily have been the window of a mobile home.  I didn’t want to
get their hopes up.

The town was called White Hills.  Calling it a town was
being generous.  The first thing we came to was an aging gas station that
billed itself as the
Last Stop
.  A small restaurant and a few
pumps, and that was it.  No vehicles.  But, first things first. 
We needed to find some water.

Dog and I carefully entered the building while Rachel and
Tiffany kept watch outside.  The instant I pulled the swinging door open,
I was hit with the sickening stench of rotting corpses.  Pausing, I gave
Dog a moment to sniff the air.  He didn’t growl, but I didn’t see any way
he could scent an infected over the horrible smell of decomposition.

The building didn’t have any windows, the exterior
cinderblock walls painted with the likeness of flags from dozens of different
nations.  It was dark inside and, breathing through my mouth, I lowered
the NVGs.  I took my time scanning the interior.

Females had been here.  Nothing else tore through
people the way they did.  There were more than a dozen bodies scattered
around the cramped space, sprays and splashes of blood decorating the walls,
the floor almost completely covered with black stains where it had pooled and
dried.  The only thing missing was a seething mass of flies, feasting on
the remains and spilled body fluids.  I didn’t understand why they were absent
but didn’t have time to give it any thought.

Seeing and hearing nothing, I stepped into the structure,
Dog tight against my leg.  Behind us, the door sighed shut.  Stepping
over the dead, I was careful where I placed my feet.  There might not be a
swarm of insects, but I had no doubt that all variety of bacteria were thriving
in the remains and on every surface.  A simple mistake, like a misstep
that caused me to stumble and cut myself, could very easily result in a fatal
infection. 

There were a dozen vinyl upholstered booths lining the front
wall, a scattering of tables filling the space between them and a long
counter.  Almost every piece of furniture was turned over, except for the
counter stools which were bolted to the concrete floor.  Behind the
counter was a long grill, beyond that a swinging door that opened into what I suspected
was a pantry.

Hoping to find some bottled water, I stepped around the end
of the counter and paused short of the door.  Dog sniffed but remained
silent.  Exercising an abundance of caution, I whistled loudly, then
waited with my rifle aimed at the door.  A full minute later, nothing had
come charging, so we went forward and pushed through.

The food storage area was small, not really much more than
an oversized closet.  It only took a few seconds for me to see that it had
been stripped bare.  Nothing other than cheap plastic shelving
remained.  Cursing, I went back outside, pausing long enough to turn the
valve on a sink, just in case the water was still on.  It wasn’t. 

Turning it back off out of habit, I headed for the
exit.  Taking a deep breath when I reached fresh air, I shook my head when
Rachel looked at me.  She nodded, understanding my message.

Behind the restaurant was another block building, garishly
painted with childlike images of a green alien, a monster truck and a couple of
belt-fed machine guns.  A sun bleached sign advertised Grand Canyon
monster truck tours and a shooting range where tourists could fire a
real
machine gun.  Getting the girls’ attention, I pointed at it, and Dog and I
started walking.  They fell in behind, doing a good job of keeping an eye
on our rear. 

The front door was a stout slab of steel, solidly locked
into the surrounding walls.  If I’d had a bit of C4, I would have used it,
but that was another item lost in the Humvees.  Circling around the
building, I paused in surprise when I came up against a tall, solid
fence.  It was made of what looked like sheets of scrap iron and was at
least 10 feet tall.  Coils of barbed wire lined the top and there was a single,
wide gate secured with a heavy chain and padlock.

A quick check of Dog, who was alert but calm, and I stepped
up and peeked through the gap in the center where the two sections of the gate
met.  There were only a couple of inches to see through, but that was
enough to spot four huge pickups.  They were all lifted ridiculously high,
riding on massive tires and painted outlandish shades of purple, green and
yellow.

Telling Rachel and Tiffany to stay where they were, I led
Dog around the perimeter of the fence, hoping to find an easy way in. 
There wasn’t, and that’s probably why it looked like no one had been
inside.  Going back to the gate, I stood in the sun for a moment, staring
at the obstacle.

There was no way to climb the smooth iron plates.  And
even if I could, the coils of barbed wire would be a problem.  The chain
was too thick to be broken with a bullet or grenade.  Walking back to the
front door, I checked it over again to make sure I hadn’t missed a weakness
that I could exploit to gain entry.  It was just as solid and impenetrable
as the first time I’d looked.

When I came back around the corner, Tiffany was standing at
the gate, examining the padlock.  She turned when she heard me coming.

“Need to get through to get to those trucks, right?” 
She asked.

I nodded.

“Can I borrow your knife?”

I looked at her for a moment before drawing the Ka-Bar, then
pulled it back when she reached for it.

“What are you going to do?  It can’t cut through or
break that lock.”

I didn’t care if she wanted to try a crazy idea, I just
didn’t want my knife damaged.

“Trust me.”

She smiled and held her hand out.  After another pause,
I extended the weapon, hilt first.  She took it and without saying
anything else, rushed to retrieve a plastic cup that was trapped in a small
bush.  Holding it against the fence, she pressed the blade against the
metal and began slowly scraping down, towards its mouth.  A fine powder of
rust fell into the cup with each stroke.

“What’s she doing?”  Rachel asked, staring curiously as
Tiffany kept working.

“I think I know,” I said, smiling.

“Yeah?  So?”

“Just wait,” I said.

Rachel shook her head and checked the area around us before
going back to watching Tiffany.

The girl worked for several minutes, finally stopping and
looking into the cup.  Apparently satisfied, she put it on a rock and
started searching the ground.  Spying what she wanted, she hurried over to
a shallow drainage ditch and plucked out a crushed beer can.  Standing,
she searched some more and found a large, flat rock and another the size and
shape of a baseball.

Carrying the rocks to where we were standing, she put them
on the ground and used my knife to cut the ends off the can, then slice it into
narrow strips.  I cringed at the damage being done to the edge of the
blade, but held my tongue and let her work.  When she had all of the
strips neatly lined up on the flat rock, she stood and handed the Ka-Bar back
to me.

“Sorry about the edge,” she said, digging through a pocket
in her jeans.

She pulled out two large packs of chewing gum and handed
them to Rachel.

“Chew these,” she said.  “All of it.  Get it nice
and wet and sticky.”

Rachel stared at her a moment, then turned to look at
me.  I shrugged and took one of the packs from her.  One by one, I
unwrapped each stick and stuck it in my mouth.  I was parched from the
long walk without anything to drink, but eventually, I had what felt like a
golf ball sized wad of gum rolling around in my mouth.

While we chewed, Tiffany attacked the strips of the beer can
with the round rock.  First, she pounded them even thinner than they
already were then, with a twisting motion, began grinding them between the two
stones.  It took some time and effort, but she eventually managed to
reduce them to a coarse powder.

Using the edge of her hand, she carefully wiped all of the
powder to one end of the rock.  Picking up the plastic cup, she poured the
finely powdered rust onto the other.  Comparing the two piles, she brushed
away a small quantity of rust, then pushed both into the cup and shook it to mix
the contents thoroughly.

Looking up at us, she held out her hand.  Rachel and I
deposited two balls of well chewed gum.  Tiffany pressed them together,
then dropped the larger mass into the cup.  When she pulled it out, it was
coated with the powder mixture she’d created.  Kneading the ball like it
was dough, she worked the powder into it.  She kept repeating this process
until all of the mixture had been used up.

Holding the ball up, she looked at it and nodded in
approval.  It was probably fifty percent larger due to the added powder
and was nearly dry.  Picking up one of the foil wrappers I’d dropped on
the ground, she rolled it into a tube, and after poking a hole in the ball with
a small stick, she inserted an end deep inside.

“Can you open a bullet?”  She asked, looking up at
me.  “I need the gun powder.”

I grinned at her and, using the Ka-Bar, quickly separated a
bullet from its brass casing and held it out to her.  Carefully, she
poured the powder into the foil tube.

“You made a bomb?”  Rachel asked uncertainly.

“Thermite,” I said.

Tiffany looked at me, nodded and smiled.

“What’s Thermite?”  Rachel asked.

“Iron oxide, or rust, and powdered aluminum.  Mixed in
the right proportions and ignited, they burn in excess of 4,000 degrees
Fahrenheit,” she said, standing and moving to the gate.  “More than hot
enough to melt the shackle on this padlock.”

“Really?”  Rachel asked in surprise.

“Who’s the chauvinist, now?”  I asked as Tiffany molded
the ball of thermite gum around the padlock’s shackle.

“Oh, fuck off,” Rachel said, but she was teasing.

“So here’s the problem,” Tiffany said, stepping away from
the gate.  “This will burn really hot, and it tends to spray molten
metal.  Whoever lights it had better be ready to run.”

She was looking at me, and after a moment Rachel turned to
face me.  With a sigh, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a
disposable lighter.  Rachel smiled, then followed Tiffany to a safe
distance, making sure Dog was staying with them.

Taking a deep breath, I moved to the gate and looked at the
padlock.  The foil tube containing the gunpowder stuck up from the ball of
chewing gum at a forty-five-degree angle, waiting for me to light it. 
Once I touched flame to it, the powder would flare and burn hot enough to
ignite the thermite. 

I knew how hot and violently thermite grenades burned, and
had no reason to think Tiffany’s creation wouldn’t do the same.  All
things considered, I’d rather have a nice long fuse so I could set it off from
a safe distance.  Shutting down my internal bitching, I flicked the
lighter and held the flame to the tube.

At first, nothing, then the gunpowder flashed
violently.  I yanked my hand back and ran, a loud sputtering sound
starting up behind and a wave of intense heat washing over me.  When I
reached Rachel and Tiffany, I turned to watch and shielded my eyes as they were
already doing.

Thermite not only burns extremely hot, but the flame is bright
enough to damage your retinas.  Ideally, to watch it burn, we should have
been wearing welder’s goggles.  But, we didn’t have any, so as the metal
violently combusted, we settled for occasional, quick peeks through our
fingers.

The fire hissed and popped for several seconds, then a fist
sized lump of glowing, molten steel dropped to the ground.  The two ends
of the thick chain swung free, lightly scraping across the iron plate. 
With a smile, Tiffany bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement.

“I sure am glad we brought you along,” I said, smiling at
her.

She looked back at me, her face beaming.

There was a back door into the building, inside the fenced
lot, that wasn’t nearly as stout or secure as the front.  It popped open
easily enough with a little persuasion from a long crowbar I found in the area
that was used to maintain the monster trucks. 

I might not have bothered to break in if any of the
vehicles’ keys had been in them.  But, they were locked up tight. 
They were also too tall for me to be able to see through the windows.  I
had to lift Rachel up on my shoulders so she could check.  While I was
doing this, Tiffany had poked around the garage area and found a stepladder.

Pausing in the open door, I stared at the darkness for a
moment, then lowered my NVGs.  Dog, close at my side, remained
quiet.  Slowly scanning with the night vision, I didn’t see any
danger.  Leaving the girls outside, Dog and I crossed the threshold and
began searching the place.

It wasn’t large, even smaller than the diner, and was
cluttered so badly I idly wondered if the owner was a hoarder.  Boxes
covered almost every inch of floor space and were stacked to the ceiling. 
There was a cramped area by the front door where customers could stand, if they
wanted to stand very close to each other, and a battered wooden desk facing the
entrance.

The desk was so piled with papers that I couldn’t see the
surface.  Raising, and deactivating the goggles, I clicked on my
flashlight and began pulling drawers open.  They were also stuffed with
papers.  Finishing the left side, I tugged the shallow center drawer
open.  Light reflected off four sets of keys.  Scooping them up, I
shoved them in my pocket and turned for the door, the light flashing across a
box that caught my eye.

Bottled water!  Of course.  It made sense. 
This place operated vehicles that took tourists out into the Arizona
desert.  You don’t do that without also taking along plenty of
water.  In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if the tour companies hadn’t been
required by law to have enough water on the trip to last a full day in case
they broke down in the middle of nowhere.

Shining the light around, I could see the printing on the
boxes that hadn’t been visible through night vision.  What I had thought
was hoarding was actually box after box of water.  Grabbing the closest
one, I wormed my way through the maze and outside where the girls were
waiting.  I put it on the ground and ripped the top open, grabbing a
couple of bottles.

Rachel and Tiffany saw what I had and rushed over. 
Each of them drained a bottle without pausing, then reached for more.  I
took a minute to search around, finding an old drip pan in the open area used
as a garage.  I washed it out with one of the bottles, then put it on the
ground and poured water for Dog.  While he was noisily drinking, I downed
three bottles in rapid succession.

We spent several minutes re-hydrating ourselves, then I went
back inside and grabbed two more cases.  Sitting them on the ground, I
stood beside the girls, looking at the monster trucks.

“Which one?”  I asked.

“That one,” Tiffany said without hesitation, pointing at the
purple one.

It was an older Ford pickup with four doors and a long bed,
and it wasn’t just purple, it was
purple
.  Maybe it was triple purple
or orgasmic violet, but it was one hell of a shade of paint.  There were
two rows of molded plastic seats in the bed, and the rear window of the cab had
been removed so those passengers could communicate with the ones inside. 

Using the stepladder, I climbed up and tried keys until I
found the right one to unlock the door.  Getting behind the wheel, I
glanced around for a moment, amazed at the feeling of being on top of the
world.  The interior was well worn but in decent shape.  I just hoped
the damn thing had fuel, and the mechanicals were in good working order.

Starting the engine, I couldn’t help but smile at the bellow
of raw power.  I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised.  It takes a
lot of horsepower to move four tires that are nearly as tall as me.  A
quick check of the gauges showed there was slightly less than half a tank of
gas.  The way this thing most assuredly drank fuel, there was no way we’d
make it to Phoenix and the Air Force Base.

Shutting off the engine, I scrambled down and spent a few
minutes moving the step ladder and checking the other trucks.  None of
them were any better off.  Shit.  Back at ground level, I explained
the problem to the girls.

“What about the gas station?”  Rachel asked, pointing
through the open gate.

I reflexively turned to look and cursed when I saw a pack of
females charging towards us.  Where the hell had they come from?

“In the truck!”  I shouted, racing to grab one of the
cases of water.

Rachel and Tiffany scrambled up the ladder and into the cab,
Rachel turning and extending her arms as I skidded in the dirt.  With a
heave, I tossed the box into her waiting arms.  It was heavy and unwieldy
as hell, but somehow she managed to snag it and pull it inside. 

Dog had caught scent of the females and was slowly stalking
towards them, head lowered as a rumbling growl emanated from his chest.  I
appreciated his sentiment, and would have preferred to fight, but we were too
low on ammo.  Bending, I scooped him into my arms and, one wobbly step at
a time, went up the ladder.

I nearly fell off when an unsuppressed rifle sounded right
over my head, but managed to maintain my balance.  Rachel was back at the
open door, reaching out and grabbing Dog’s front shoulders as I pushed his big,
furry ass.  A moment later I was up and in.

A quick glance told me I didn’t have time to screw around
with the step ladder.  Slamming the door, I fumbled the keys out of my
pocket and started the beast.  Shifting into gear, the exhaust bellowed as
I hit the accelerator and cut the wheel to aim for the open gate.

Right in front of the truck was a dead female, and I
realized that the shot Tiffany fired had probably saved my life.  The
giant tires rolled over the corpse without so much as a bump being felt in the
cab.

The rest of the females reached the gate at the same time we
did.  Several leapt at us, bouncing off the fenders.  Blasting
through, I ran down a slower moving one, then nearly turned us over when I made
a sharp turn onto the highway.  I had to remember how this thing handled
and not make a sudden maneuver that would ruin our day.

“Help!”

Tiffany’s shout came an instant before two females screamed,
seemingly inside the truck with us.  Rachel and I both snapped our heads
around to look over our shoulders.  Tiffany’s rifle was tangled in a seat
harness, and she was shrinking away from the first female’s grasping
fingers.  Dog bounded over the back of the seat and slammed into the one
reaching for Tiffany.  The second was crawling through the opening at the
back of the cab.

Rachel ripped my pistol out of its holster on my thigh,
raised the weapon and fired in one motion.  The report inside the cab
nearly deafened me, but it was worth it to see the female flop dead into the
bed of the truck.  Dog quickly finished off the female he’d attacked,
leaving the corpse to bleed all over the back seat.

“You OK?”  Rachel shouted to Tiffany over the roar of
the engine and tires.

“I’m good,” the girl said, finally freeing her weapon from
the seat belt.

“Where the hell did they come from?”  Rachel turned to
me and put my pistol back in its holster.

“Probably there,” I said, pointing at a small cluster of
dilapidated mobile homes sitting on the side of the road.  “I started the
truck to check the gas and it made enough noise to attract them.”

Thinking about gas, I looked at the gauge to make sure we at
least had as much as I’d thought.  The needle was just below the half
mark.  A quick scan of the rest of the instruments and I was satisfied we
weren’t about to have any engine trouble, though that could change in a
heartbeat.

“How the hell are they living out here?  There’s no
water.  No food.  How are they surviving?”

Tiffany scooted forward and hung her arms over the seat back
to make it easier to talk to us.

“Don’t know,” I said when Rachel didn’t seem inclined to
answer.  “We keep seeing shit like this.  Keep hoping they’re going
to start dying off.  But they don’t.”

“They seemed slower,” Rachel said.

“What?”  I looked at her in surprise.

“They were moving slower.  It’s a good thing, too, or
we might not have made it.”

“You think they’re weakening?”  I asked.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders before looking at me.

“I’ve got no idea,” she said.  “But, I’m with
Tiffany.  How the hell are they still alive and a threat?”

“Shouldn’t there have been some males in that town?” 
Tiffany asked.

“I’d think so.  Maybe they just couldn’t get to us fast
enough when we started making a lot of noise.”

“Maybe,” she said.

Rachel turned in her seat to look at the younger girl.

“What are you thinking?  You have an idea why there
weren’t any males?”

Tiffany shook her head as if deciding whether to say
something or not.  Finally, she wrapped an arm around Dog’s neck and
sighed.

“They’re still human, right?  Which means, they’ve
gotta eat to survive.  So, since they’re still alive, it follows that they
have to be eating
something
.  Right?”