Salby (Book 2): Salby Evolution (20 page)

Rebel Stronghold, Gora Lyavochorr Mountain, present day.

With the assistance of Sergeant Cross, I received a crash course lesson in the operation of a Russian-built Izhmash AK-102 assault rifle, the weapon of choice for the rebel army soldiers.

“This will do some damage, sir.” Cross smiled.

“It feels quite light, you’ve seen these before, Nathan?”

“These are the exported model, a glorified Kalashnikov, favoured by the more modern army, if you have enough money.” he winked. “They are easy to come by within NATO. They offer a good fire rate, relative accuracy and expend the same 5.56mm rounds the British weapons use. All good.”

“I’ll, um, take your word for it.” I nodded. “Any tips when the shooting starts?”

“Yeah, keep your fucking head down!” Cross laughed. “Stay close to me, we work as a team. You’ll cover my back and I’ll cover yours. Our main objective is to get to the prisoners. If someone shoots at you, shoot back if you can get a good line of sight, don’t waste your ammunition. Mark your targets first. Remember, we’re outmanned and outgunned, they have some serious artillery down there. Most of all, keep calm, don’t let your emotions override you or you’re dead. Stay alive. Got it, sir?”

“Got it, and please, call me Simon.”

I couldn’t help but admire him. What it must have taken to bring this man from someone like me, struggling with everyday motivation, to mould and shape him into the lethal fighting force that he was. I pictured the events which led him along the way, the conflicts, battles, and loss of life he surely must have seen in his career.

“I’m not a full-time soldier, Simon. I was once, many years past. Until a few days ago, I was on leave after being recalled to assist in the first outbreak. We were on holiday, taking a well-earned rest. I hung up my oath, content to retire to the countryside to build a new life with the woman I loved.”

“Evie, the doctor down there?”

“No, not then. Her name was Katharine. She’s gone now. Car accident. I worked as a reporter after the military. When this all kicked off the first time, they called me in. When we thought it was over, they found me a new career inspecting shale gas fracking installations up and down the country,” he finished.

“I’m sorry for your loss. You retain that determined, professional military persona. How do you do that?”

“It’s drilled into a man from the day he signs up. I took to it, thrived on it, used it to push myself. It’s a different world, Simon. Enough memories, come on, put this on, just in case.”

He passed me a flak jacket, black Kevlar armoured. When I wrapped it around me, it made me feel like a bodybuilder. The jacket had some weight to it, even more so as Cross shoved loaded magazines into just about every available Velcro-flapped pocket.

Still doing this, really? You mind you don’t shoot yourself. You shot holes in your marriage pretty well. Look on the bright side, even freaks of nature can become heroes, in the eyes of children!

“I hear it, Simon. Use your determination to overcome the voices. Force it from your mind, control it, instead of allowing it to control you. Use it to aid you, channel it, as you’re learning to by hearing thoughts. If you don’t, it will destroy you in the end,” Nathan warned.

“It’s as though it knows when and where I’m vulnerable. It seizes on things that enrage me, the cuts get deeper as it finds more chinks in my armour,” I offered.

“The original virus had much more effect. It was designed to tap into what Evie called the ‘Red Room’ in our brains. That’s the place we store all the things which upset us in our lives, everything from cheese on a requested plain burger to unreasonable exes, breakdowns in relationships, or just missing a bus,” he informed me.

“Fascinating, and lethal. With such power harnessed and set to purpose, the average person becomes a wild, enraged killer. You’re telling me
that’s
what’s down there waiting for us?”

“Maybe.” He nodded. “You’re nothing like the first deadheads I encountered. You can talk, you have control over your actions. You’re reasoned, with memories and foresight for the future. Somehow, when the virus hit you, it mutated into something completely new. If the doctors down there isolated that new strain, we’re in for a long fight. They won’t be ambling, brain-dead creatures, they’ll be an organised fighting force to be reckoned with,” he concluded.

“I’ll take one of those combat knives too.” I pressed.

“Here, black-up. It’ll be dark when we make the first move, cover any exposed skin, face and hands. If they see something pale in the darkness, they’ll take a pop at it, and I’d rather it wasn’t your head,” Cross stated.

By the time we were kitted out, I resembled a crack commando. If only I felt the same and possessed such ability.

The mood lightened as Janishka Seuchencko approached us. It was the first time I’d seen her that day. What a transformation! The long, dark locks were now fusilli twists of deep auburn, which framed an immaculate face almost devoid of all makeup, save for the barest hints—just enough to accent her jawline and eyes. I was sure they were once blue, similar to her father’s, yet now the light reflected a deep brown. Gone was the flowing dress I remembered, and in its place, military boots and black lightweight trousers, pinched in at her slim waistline by a heavy webbing belt. Her curves, despite the otherwise unflattering black polar-neck to her chin, still sent visions to a man’s mind of the pleasure that lay beneath.
If you lived long enough to reach that.

“Gentlemen. My father sends his best to you both. He asks that you return safely, and in one piece each. My men and I are in position. We will escort you to the Chudo rendezvous positions. When you’re ready?” She smiled.

“Miss Seuchencko, you look—different. A few more minutes we’ll be ready to move. Nathan, okay?” I lowered my gaze from her form, instead pretending to adjust the straps on my body armour.

“What he said, Ma’am.” Nathan smiled.

Just as she had walked on a breeze towards us, she floated daintily away.

“Enough to melt a man to death, that girl.” I chuckled.

“And death would surely be the inevitable end if you tried, no matter how important you are, but what a way to go …” Nathan mused.

We packed up ready to move. The kit soon stowed in the backs of rugged, armour-plated all-terrain vehicles, one of which had a massive, roof-mounted machine gun turret. The winding, bumpy ride down the mountain track was an event in itself. Despite the obvious caution of the driver, we were buffeted in the back of the vehicle throughout. I felt my buttocks clench and relax the closer we got to the camp. In truth, I’d have had an accident long ago were it not for the present company.

We didn’t need to speak, Cross and I. He could hear the doubt in my mind, and I could hear the excitement in his. One thought from him came constantly.
I’m coming for you, Evie.
He projected reassurance, something I needed, and by the time we reached the town, my mind had ceased its incessant disbelief.

Yeah, you wait ‘til your worthless ass has to shoot one of—
I locked the voice out, cut it off mid-sentence, just like closing an impenetrable door in my mind. Then, I smiled at Cross.

As I exited the armoured car, the scene before me reminded me of an old war film. Troops were assembled in their dozens, checking kit, advised by their respective troop commanders. Radio communications masts already extended to peek just above the treeline of the wooded encampment, the lights of the port just a few miles in the distance. The first wave of elite troops, Viktor’s personal guard, had already been sent towards the port to secure outlying buildings and lay mines along a specific route. It was imperative to remove key points of the facility, the comms towers being one of the first major targets, Cross mentioned. We didn’t want a call for help going out and yet more of the Federation military turning up midway through the operation, he had reasoned.

We met up with Staff Sergeant Stewall first, and went over our plan of action for when we made it through the outer defences of the port. The aerial plans showed us the layout, and the
Baltic Wanderer
would be our reference point amid the maze of containers. If, at any point, I got separated from Cross, I was to make my way to the ship, get holed up, and wait. The instructions were crystal clear.

“Are you ready, Simon? Has Nate here been teaching you well?” Stewall smiled.

“He’s a good instructor.”

“That he is. I’ll be flanking you and Cross, to try to pave a pathway for you both. You’ll need these, boys,” Stewall offered.

He handed us each an off-white coloured band for the tops of our sleeves.

“Put them on. When the shooting starts, I don’t want to be hit by one of our own rounds. While the port is well lit, we’re all pretty much dressed the same. The rebels have theirs. Anyone not wearing one you should consider to be hostile, don’t hesitate when it kicks off,” he urged.

He laid out a map of the port showing possible entry sites and weaknesses in the defences. I looked over the schematic lines, picturing the layout in three-dimensional form. I tried my best to memorise it, wishing I had my camera phone to hand.

Stewall offered me a strip of beef jerky as he pawed over the plans. I accepted, unsure of whether to bite it or use it to scratch an itch on my boot-clad ankle. I opted for the latter before attempting to bite into the leathery strip snack. Our dog, Samuel, a Border collie, would have revelled in such a treat. It wouldn’t have touched the sides. I imagined him toying with it, gnawing at it clasped between his paws in the garden of the family home.

Damn, I miss that hound.

“Eat, while you can. It could be awhile before your next meal. Rat-packs are on the wagon over there, go help yourself.” He grinned.

“Typical Stewey, stuff the weapons when there’s food in the vicinity,” Nathan joked.

“I’m a growing lad,” Stewall quipped.

“Outwards, mainly,” Nathan smirked. “Come on, Simon. Let’s get some energy while we have time. The sun’s setting and we’ll move in a few short hours. Between now and then, check and re-check your kit, get food and water on board, and say a prayer to whichever God you believe in.”

While his last remark seemed a little out of place for a man of his calibre, it did hit a note. The ration pack from the truck was stuffed with unidentifiable foil-wrapped preserves. It was a little like those sweets you could buy, the type that all look the same, but you’re sure to pick the coffee-flavoured one first.

My first pack was dried oats. Hot water added to the pack, shaken for half a minute, actually produced a kind of porridge, which wasn’t half bad. I followed that with some high-protein biscuits, swilled down with fresh, clean water directly from the mobile butt trailer. After that, I found a spot overlooking the encampment, at any other time a place of pure beauty.

Majestic trees rose to the heavens and a blanket of moss covered the forest floor. My black military boots were out of place in such a haven of nature. On a fallen log, suspended by two coincidentally placed stumps, I sat and took in the surroundings. I closed my eyes, raised my face to whoever might be up there to hear me, and prayed.

My plea to The Almighty was rudely interrupted by the whine of a Jeep as it skidded to a stop at the command tent. Two burly-looking soldiers from Viktor’s elite guard hustled an obese, red-faced man from the back of the vehicle. Two things stood out: the pressure upon the buttons of the man’s white shirt straining against his girth, and a set of eyebrows which looked like roadkill. I stood from my position just a few metres back from the tent, eager to see what the commotion was about.

General Volkov blazed from the front, closely followed by young Petrov. “Who is this man, and why has he been brought here?” Volkov demanded.

The two elite guards braced up and saluted the officer formally.

“General Volkov, Sir! His papers claim him to be Andre Vadik. We found him attempting to leave the Port of Murmansk. He was in one hell of a hurry, Sir.”

“Vadik. Political Officer Vadik, I assume. Well, say something, man!” Volkov boomed. “You two, well done, I’ll see to it that Viktor hears of this. Take rest, eat, and then return to your posts.” He returned his gaze to the quivering bulk of the new arrival. “Well? Speak man!” Volkov urged.

“I am Political Officer Andre Vadik. If any harm should come to me in your hands, I will personally see to your executions by firing squad,” he seethed.

“Vadik, you carry no weight here. Learn that fast. Why were you running from the port?” Volkov pushed. “Never mind. Petrov, go to find Miss Seuchencko, ask her to join me, then radio the stronghold, and inform them of our guest. You will follow me, Political Officer Vadik. I have waited a long, long time for a face-to-face chat with you. You
will
assist us, trust me.” Volkov waved the overweight man towards the main tent.

I watched as the sheer bulk of the man disappeared into the comparative darkness of the command tent. I needed to find Nathan and let him know someone from the port was actually
here.
A veiled empathy washed over me at the sight of the clearly terrified Russian official. It must have taken real guts to run from the base. I can only guess that the rebel resistance force hadn’t been his intended first stop. Nonetheless, what General Volkov said rang true.