Red Hammer: Voodoo Plague Book 4 (5 page)

Rachel had been walking for an hour, but hadn’t covered more
than a couple of miles.  The flooded rice paddies made the going very slow, and
while she had crossed some dikes that divided them, they had all ran north and
south.  Suspecting there were also dikes running east to west, she changed
direction and started walking north.  If she didn’t find a dike within half a
mile, which was about how often she had been crossing them, she’d turn back
west again.

About fifteen minutes later Rachel breathed a sigh of relief
when she spotted the ten foot tall berm of dark soil that made up a dike. 
Splashing through the last of the paddy, she gratefully climbed out of the water. 
The top of the dike was flat, hard packed earth, wide enough for a vehicle, and
she imagined farm hands driving along them to check on their crops. 

Rachel paused to catch her breath and waved her arms around
her head, wishing for mosquito repellant.  There was a cloud of the damn little
pests swirling around her, feeding on every inch of exposed skin.  She already
itched from the hundreds of bites she had received and worried briefly about
West Nile Virus.  With a start she wondered if the genetically engineered virus
the Chinese had released could be transmitted by mosquitoes.  There was no
doubt they were feasting on the infected.

The only thing Rachel could think to do was to cover her
exposed skin.  Skidding back down to the water below, she bent and scooped up
handfuls of mud and spread it on her arms, face and neck.  Soon she had a thick
coating of black mud on her skin, and while the insects continued to swarm
around her, drawn by the carbon dioxide in her breath, they couldn’t find skin
to bite.

Back on top of the dike, Rachel took a moment to survey her
surroundings from the elevated perspective.  First she looked for any sign that
infected or survivors were in the area and tracking her.  There was a small
amount of moonlight and in every direction she looked it reflected off the
perfectly calm water that flooded the paddies.  Raising her eyes, she looked
around at the horizon.  In every direction except north it was completely
dark.  To the north she could just make out a faint glow that had to be
electric lights.  The quality of the light was too steady and too close to the
white end of the spectrum to be fire.

Rachel was debating the wisdom of approaching other
survivors when the sound of a helicopter reached her ears.  Turning quickly
towards the sound, which seemed to be coming from the river, she peered
intently into the darkness.  Where was it?  She couldn’t see it, but she could
hear a heavy rotor beating the thick, humid air.  Black Hawk, she thought,
having spent enough time around helicopters in the past couple of weeks to be
able to accurately identify them by sound alone. 

Black Hawk meant Army, and that meant John was looking for
her.  Her heart leapt in her chest, both at the prospect of rescue and the fact
that John hadn’t given up on her.  Hadn’t abandoned her.  Even though the river
and helicopter were two miles away, and the aircraft was apparently operating
without showing any lights, Rachel turned to the east and started to run in the
direction of the sound.

She had only covered a hundred yards before skidding to a
stop.  A couple of hundred yards east of her position the surface of the water
in the flooded paddy was no longer glassy smooth and reflecting the moonlight. 
Looking carefully she could just make out a dozen figures stumbling in her
direction.  They had to be males since they were moving so slowly, thank God,
but between her and the approaching infected she could see water being
violently displaced as something moved through it at a much faster pace. 
Female, and she was coming fast!

Abandoning hope of reaching the river and being spotted by
the helicopter, Rachel turned back to the west and started running.  She knew
she had improved dramatically with a rifle, and could probably have held her
ground against a single female and a dozen males, but all she had was a
pistol.  She knew how to use it, but hadn’t fired at anything more than ten
feet away and had no illusions about being able to fight with it.  If they
cornered her and were close, she would use it, but shooting at anything at much
more than an arm’s length would be a waste of ammunition.

Rachel ran hard, boots pounding on the dirt.  She’d never
been a runner, preferring to get her exercise from dancing and yoga, but since
the attacks she’d had no choice.  Running was survival now, not something to
just burn calories after indulging in too much chocolate or a few extra fries. 
In good condition to start with, she’d grown stronger and faster, and now she
pushed herself to quickly gain some separation from the pursuing infected.

She had no doubt she could easily outdistance the males, but
was worried about the female.  The adrenaline fueled and rage enhanced females
could run at a full sprint for long distances.  They never seemed to tire,
though Rachel knew they had to.  No matter what the nerve agent and
accompanying virus did to them, they were still limited by basic, human
biology, and the human body would eventually tire.  Unfortunately, she would
tire well before the infected without benefit of what seemed to be a nearly
limitless supply of adrenalin.

Having covered close to half a mile, Rachel slowed to a fast
walk and looked over her shoulder.  In the darkness, at the limit of her
vision, she saw a human silhouette climb onto the top of the dike and start
sprinting in her direction.  Guessing the female was now a quarter of a mile
behind her, Rachel faced front again and ran.  She knew she couldn’t
outdistance the female, would have to turn and fight, but the more ground she
covered before that moment, the farther away she was from the males.

As she ran, Rachel remembered one of the lessons John had
tried to teach her.  One of the many that she’d listened to, but not really
focused on what he’d been trying to convey.  At the time, she hadn’t
contemplated being on her own and having to fight.  It had seemed like he’d
always be there to protect her.  He had been talking about shooting under
stress and how your aim and control was affected by a pounding heart.  Not
remembering everything he’d said, but understanding the concept, Rachel slid to
a stop and turned to face the female.

Breathing deeply, she focused on calming her body as she
drew the pistol and made sure a round was in the chamber and the safety was
off.  With her feet shoulder width apart, Rachel held the weapon in her right
hand, relaxed, and watched the female approach.  When the female closed to
within fifty yards, she screamed.  Rachel’s blood ran cold when there was an
answering scream from the rice paddy to her left.  Snapping her head in that
direction she saw another female fighting through knee deep water, not more
than twenty five yards from the base of the dike.  Smart infected?  Smart or
not, they had hunted her, flanked her, and she was about to have two of them
arrive at the same time.

Raising the pistol into a two handed grip, Rachel aimed at
the female sprinting along the top of the dike and fired her first shot.  The
infected was still about thirty yards away, but the 9 mm round punched into her
stomach.  She slowed for one step then kept on coming.  Not daring to risk a
glance at the female in the water, Rachel maintained her stance and started
squeezing the trigger every half a second, slow and steady just like John had
shown her.  Her second shot missed, but the third, then the fourth struck the
female in the chest.  She staggered, slowed, but kept on coming.

Sweating under the mud, skin crawling with fear, Rachel held
her ground and fired two more rounds.  The first one tore through her
attacker’s shoulder, the arm flopping uselessly at her side.  The second round ripped
her heart in half and the infected’s body crashed to the ground close enough
for Rachel to stick her foot out and touch it.  Swiveling to her left, ready to
fire, Rachel had to twist her body out of the way as the second female leapt at
her.

Rachel made her miss the tackle, but the infected reached out
as she flashed past, grasping for any purchase on her prey.  The female managed
to grip Rachel’s right wrist for a moment, then her hand slipped down across
Rachel’s and seized the pistol, yanking it free and sending it skidding across
the dirt.  Off balance, Rachel fell to the ground and scrambled forward on
hands and knees to retrieve the dropped weapon.  The female was faster,
however, and recovered from her miss and leapt with a scream.  Rachel changed
direction, trying to avoid the infected, but knew she was too slow.

Raising her arms to deflect the attack, Rachel flinched away
as a body slammed into the attacking female.  The two bodies crashed to the
ground next to her and she rolled away from the fight, rolling too far and
tipping over the edge of the dike.  She couldn’t stop the roll and continued
bouncing down the steep slope where she splashed into the paddy.  Disoriented
and experiencing a bit of vertigo, Rachel fought her way to her feet and looked
up at the top of the dike.  Dog stood at the edge, looking down at her, tail
wagging hard enough to make his whole body shift back and forth. 

Rachel climbed the dike and fell to her knees, arms wrapped
around Dog, face buried in the matted fur of his neck.  Sobs of relief racked
her body for a few moments.  Relief that Dog was alive.  Relief that she wasn’t
alone.  For the first time since waking up in the mud on the river’s shore she
felt a stirring of optimism that she might survive long enough to be reunited
with John.  She felt as much as heard the growl in Dog’s powerful chest,
snapping her head up to look around.  He was facing east, nose twitching as he
scented the air.  It was time to move.

Rachel grabbed the pistol out of the dirt and they started
walking west, Dog close by her side.  Occasionally she glanced to the north at
the glow of lights just over the horizon, but experience with other survivors
tempered her desire to seek the company of strangers.  Ignoring the lights,
they continued on through the night.  They hadn’t encountered any more
infected, but Rachel knew it was only a matter of time.  She smiled and patted
Dog’s back, happy he was with her for the company and also because he’d know
there were infected in the area long before she would.

After a few hours of walking they reached the end of what
had seemed like endless rice paddies.  Pausing, Rachel was momentarily
surprised to see pastures with an occasional tree and a narrow road paved with
crumbling asphalt.  The road ran to the west, picking up where the dike ended. 
Taking advantage of her last opportunity to survey the area with the height
advantage the dike provided, Rachel could see nothing other than darkness. 
They had left the lights to the north behind an hour ago, and now it was
completely dark in every direction. 

Rachel’s stomach rumbled and she was thirsty.  Dog had drank
from the irrigation water that flooded the paddies on several occasions, but
Rachel wasn’t thirsty enough yet to risk consuming the plethora of bacteria and
organisms to which a dog would be immune.  She knew she could wind up with E
Coli, Dysentery, or a dozen other ailments, any of which would be crippling and
leave her unable to run or fight.  She also knew that eventually her system
would develop a resistance and she could drink water that hadn’t been filtered
and purified, but wasn’t in any hurry to get there. 

Dog bounded gracefully down the sloping face of the dike,
Rachel sliding and winding up on her ass for the last few feet.  Dog stood
looking at her, panting, and for all the world appearing to be laughing at her
lack of coordination.  Smacking him lightly on the rump, Rachel started down
the road, sticking to the middle of the narrow ribbon of pavement.

They walked for another hour, their pace slowing when the
moon set and the small amount of light they had been relying on faded to
nothing.  Dog seemed unaffected by having only starlight by which to navigate,
and again Rachel was thankful to have him with her.  Pushing on, they covered
another three miles, stopping when the road they were walking on dead ended
into a slightly larger one that ran north and south.  Rachel looked to Dog to
see if he was detecting any infected, but he was just a darker form on the road
to her eyes.  He wasn’t growling or trying to get her to start moving again so
she relaxed a notch.

Looking north and south, Rachel could see nothing except
more darkness.  No sign of habitation.  Which way?  Trying to picture a map of
the United States in her mind, she finally gave up.  The central part of the
country just wasn’t geography that Rachel had any familiarity with.  She knew
her destination, Oklahoma City, was to the west, but it could have been
hundreds of miles farther north or south as far as she knew.  Tossing a mental
coin, she turned to her right and headed north.

Within three hundred yards Rachel smiled and congratulated
herself when the road curved to the west.  Hoping this was a sign that her luck
was on the rise, she nearly cried out for joy when she spotted a squat building
ahead of them.  It was too dark to make out any details, and all she could see
was the dark outline of the structure against the stars on the horizon.  But
that was enough for her to tell it was a building.  Approaching cautiously,
Rachel kept her hand on Dog’s back, ready to turn and run if he sensed any
danger.

Dog remained calm as they neared the driveway to the
building.  Moving off the road, Rachel froze when the ground under her feat
changed from asphalt to gravel.  Her first two steps had crunched as the gravel
shifted under her boot soles, so loud that she was certain any infected hiding
in the building would know she was there.  Remaining frozen for a full minute,
Rachel listened intently and watched Dog for any reaction.  Finally, hearing
nothing and not getting a warning from Dog, she resumed moving towards the
building.

The gravel that made up the driveway had apparently been recently
put in place.  There was a thick, lose bed of it, making a lot of noise from
being walked on, not packed tightly into the ground like old gravel driveways
are.  Cringing with every step, Rachel forced herself to keep walking, finally
close enough to the building to recognize it as a gas station.  In front of the
garage and office was a small area paved with concrete that held a single gas
pump.  Happily stepping onto the concrete, Rachel paused again to listen and
give Dog a chance to sniff the air.

Rachel’s heart skipped a beat when Dog growled deep in his
chest.  He was looking directly at the office portion of the building, ears
straight up as his nose twitched.  Rachel slowly drew her pistol, somewhat more
confident in her ability to defend herself with it after having killed the
infected on the dike.  If John was here he’d caution her to not get
overconfident, but he wasn’t, and she needed all the confidence she could
muster at the moment.

Dog stopped growling and moved forward, leaving Rachel standing
alone.  Surprised, she stayed put as Dog walked up to the glass door and
started wagging his tail.  Not enthusiastically like he had when they’d been
reunited, but still a wag to let someone know he was friendly.  Friendly wag or
not, Rachel raised her pistol and aimed at the door, preparing herself for a
screaming infected to come charging out and across the concrete apron.  She
almost pulled the trigger when the door started to open, and if not for Dog
continuing to stand there and wag his tail, she would have.

Two figures stepped out, both moving timidly towards Dog. 
Expecting infected, Rachel was caught by surprise when she realized these
weren’t even adults.  She lowered, then holstered the pistol as the shorter of
the two walked forward and started petting Dog.  They hadn’t seen Rachel in the
darkness, shrinking back towards the door when she started moving forward.

“It’s OK.  I’m not going to hurt you.”  Rachel called
softly, afraid to make any noise but not wanting them to disappear back inside. 
They stopped moving when they heard her voice, but stayed poised to run.  Dog
took a step forward and sat down next to them, looking for more petting.

“My name’s Rachel.  This is Dog.  Are you here alone?” 
Rachel slowly covered the distance to where Dog sat.  When she was within a few
feet she could tell the two were both girls, and based on their size guessed
their ages at 8 and 10, but couldn’t see any details in the dark.

“We’re alone,” the older of the two spoke up.  “They came to
take our Ma and Daddy.  Ma made us hide so they wouldn’t find us.”

“Who took your parents?”  Rachel asked.  “The infected?”

“No.  The bad men.  They said it’s time for our kind to go
back to the fields where we belong.”  The little girl said. 

“What do you mean, back to the fields?  What are you talking
about?”  Rachel was completely confused.

“On account of we’s niggers!”  The younger girl said, her
voice hard and dripping with venom, belying the way she had gently petted Dog’s
head.