Transmission: Voodoo Plague Book 5 (12 page)

The flight back to Tinker was uneventful.  I had chatted
with Martinez for a few minutes, then exhaustion hit me.  Using my pack for a
pillow I had stretched out on the hard deck of the Stealth Hawk.  Rachel
snuggled in next to me, head pillowed on my shoulder and her arm and leg draped
over me.  Dog curled up on the other side, his back against my hip so I
couldn’t move without him knowing it.  He didn’t need to worry.  I was out
moments after Rachel wrapped around me and didn’t know anything until the door
gunner woke me by tossing shells from the minigun at me.

At first I thought there was something seriously wrong with
him, but he explained that he had started to reach out to shake my shoulder and
Dog had given him a look and growl that scared the crap out of him.  Grinning,
I extricated myself from Rachel, rubbed Dog’s head and moved up to the
cockpit.  Martinez was flying solo and I slipped into the empty right hand
seat, stifling a groan. 

“Where are we?”  I asked after slipping on the co-pilot’s
helmet.

“About five minutes out.”  I looked forward, the image in
the helmet’s visor showing a brightly lit area a few miles ahead.  “They’ve got
all the security lights on.  Infected at the perimeter fence.  Air didn’t know
specifics, just that there was a problem.”

I watched the base as we approached.  We were still too far
away to see details without using the helicopter’s image enhancers, but the
whole area inside the fence was brightly lit, standing out against the mostly
dark city it bordered.

“Make a slow orbit of the base before we land.”  I said. 
“I’d like to see what’s going on before we drop in.”

“Yes, sir.”  Martinez was all business now, cutting our speed
and contacting Air to let them know what she intended to do.

A couple of minutes later we flew over the main gate at
1,000 feet of altitude.  I fiddled with the imaging controls, zooming slightly
on the ground below.  Several hundred bodies were piled around the gate,
hundreds more infected climbing over them in their attempt to reach the people
inside the base.  Several Hummers with machine guns were clustered inside the
gate, keeping the small herd at bay.  There were also plenty of armed Air Force
personnel on the ground, milling around behind and beside the Hummers.  For my
taste, they didn’t appear to be taking this seriously enough.

If the size of the herd of infected suddenly swelled, they
might be in real trouble.  Obviously people in Oklahoma City were turning.  Why
hadn’t the Air Force put up a couple of helicopters and hosed down the
infected?  They could take out the entire herd in less than five minutes with a
couple of door mounted miniguns.

Martinez followed the fence line as she made the orbit. 
There were a couple more places where infected had piled up in their attempt to
get through the chain link, and there were only two Humvees at each of these
locations keeping them from breaching.  A few other vehicles and Airmen on foot
patrolled the rest of the perimeter, but this was a lackluster response to the
threat.  It was either someone that didn’t know what they were doing, or it was
someone that refused to acknowledge the severity of the situation and was
putting peoples’ lives at risk unnecessarily.  Where the hell was Colonel
Crawford?

Orbit finished, Martinez brought us down in front of the
same hangar we had landed at less than 24 hours ago when we’d arrived from
Kirtland AFB.  Three Hummers waited for us.  Two of them were stuffed full of
Rangers dressed in full battle rattle, the third driven by Captain Blanchard. 
Thanking Martinez for the ride, I collected Dog and Rachel and jumped down to
the tarmac when the door gunner opened the side door.

“Welcome back, Ma’am.”  Blanchard had gotten out of the
Hummer and walked over to greet us.  He looked beyond us, wondering where
Jackson was.  Not seeing him, he looked at me and I shook my head.  His face
fell and he nodded.

“How?”  He asked.

“Turned.”  I said.  No further explanation was necessary. 
“Where’s the Colonel?  The response to the infected at the gate looks like
amateur hour.”

“Agreed,” he said, turning and escorting us to his vehicle. 
“The Colonel is in a meeting with the base commander and the Security Forces CO
at the moment.  I’m sure he’ll explain their error to them.  I’ve got three
platoons of Rangers ready to go as soon as the meeting is over so we can get
the threat neutralized before something bad happens.”

I nodded, holding the rear door open for Dog and Rachel
before climbing into the front with Captain Blanchard.  He started the Hummer
and pulled out, the two vehicles full of Rangers staying close behind.

“Captain Martinez said there was an all out effort to find
me and get me back here, but she didn’t know why.  Care to fill me in?”  I
said.

“We heard from the Russian woman you made the deal with in
Los Alamos,” he started, proceeding to tell me about the call from Irina.  When
he was finished we were pulling into the parking lot for the base commander’s
offices.  “I’m sure you’ve got lots of questions, but if you don’t mind holding
them for the Colonel I’d appreciate it.”

I nodded, stepping out when he parked.  There was a platoon
of Rangers forming a defensive perimeter around the large building, and the
ones that had escorted us from the hangar jumped out and joined them to
strengthen the line.

Blanchard escorted us into the building, stopping before
turning down a hall that led to several large conference rooms.  “Ma’am, I took
the liberty of having the Air Force assign temporary housing to the Major.  Can
I escort you there so you can get some rest?”

“Thank you, Captain, but not a chance in hell.  I saw those
infected at the fence, and I don’t want to be off on my own if they break
through.  From now on, where he goes, I go.”  Rachel tilted her head in my
direction and put her hands on her hips, facing Blanchard down.  He started to
open his mouth, thought better of saying anything and looked at me.  I just
shrugged my shoulders and smiled. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Was all he said, quickly turning and leading
us down the hallway. 

We reached a conference room and I excused myself to go to
the latrine, Rachel and Dog continuing on into the plushly appointed room.  In
the latrine I took care of what I had to do, then stepped to the sink to wash
my hands.  Looking in the mirror I was surprised at how haggard I appeared.  My
eyes were hollow, face and head covered with several days of stubble with grime
ground into every wrinkle of my skin.  There was also a fair amount of gore from
the fighting in Los Alamos that I hadn’t taken the time to wash off before
going out to search for Rachel.

Unslinging my rifle, I laid it on the counter and turned the
water on.  Leaning over the sink I started trying to wash my face, neck and
head as best I could.  I didn’t really care if I sat in a meeting covered in
filth and stinking to high heaven.  I just wanted to clean up and wake up a
little bit.  While I was bent over the sink splashing water on my head, the
door to the latrine opened and I heard footsteps on the hard tile floor.

Looking up in the mirror I was mildly surprised to see a
nattily dressed man heading for one of the urinals.  He was in his mid to late
30s with blonde hair that had been stylishly cut and left to hang across his
forehead in a sweep.  He was wearing jeans, but not the kind of jeans I’ve ever
owned.  These were designed by someone with an unpronounceable name and had
probably cost more than my first car.  His shirt fit him beautifully, having
been tailored to show off a narrow waist and broad shoulders.  Ignoring him, I
continued to wash.

“How’s it going, sport?”  He had finished at the urinal and
slapped me on the back as he spoke. 

I resisted the urge to pull his arm out of its socket and
beat him to death with it, settling for a grunt as I grabbed a handful of paper
towels out of the chrome dispenser.  He stepped up to the counter to use
another sink and I moved my rifle out of his reach.  Meeting his eyes in the
mirror I immediately disliked him even more.

Under his blonde hair he had big, blue eyes and a deep and
even tan on a face that was recently shaved smooth.  I could smell a subtle
aftershave hanging in the air.  He had the chiseled features that should be
modeling something in a men’s magazine, and the biggest, whitest teeth I’d ever
seen in person.  He looked like someone I’d seen or known before, but I couldn’t
remember who.  And if there weren’t already enough strikes against the guy, he
was chewing gum with his lips parted so that there was a perpetual smile on his
face.  Not a warm, friendly smile.  More of an “I’m better than everyone else
here” smile.

“Bet he owns a Porsche.”  I said silently to myself, trying not
to smile but failing miserably.  He took my smile as an invitation to talk.

“Did you see that smokin’ hot piece of ass that just walked
in with the dog?”  He asked in a voice intended to draw me into the ‘we’re both
men of the world’ fraternity.  “That’s one tasty looking little biscuit, even
if she is dressed like GI Jane.  Bet she’s hell on wheels once that uniform
comes off.  Tits and ass like that, and a mouth that’s made for…”

He never finished the sentence.  Without taking my eyes off
the mirror I reached out with my left hand, grabbed the front of his expensive
shirt and yanked him off his feet.  Twisting, I slammed his back against the
tiled wall and jammed my right forearm across his throat.  His eyes were as big
as dinner plates as I put my face in his, applying enough pressure with my
forearm to prevent him from drawing a breath, but not quite enough to damage
his larynx.  Before I could say anything the door opened again.

“Stand down, Major!”  Colonel Crawford said in a loud,
commanding voice.  He had stopped half way through the door when he saw what
was happening.

I took a deep breath and released the man, taking a step
back as he bent forward and coughed, trying to gulp air.  When he was able to
breathe he stood up and glared at me, the fury in his eyes almost a palpable
force.

“Colonel, I want this man arrested!”  He said, massaging his
bruised throat with a manicured hand, not taking his eyes off of me.

“That’s not going to happen, Mr. Cummings.  I’m sure the
Major regrets his actions and will apologize.”

“I don’t want a fucking apology.  I want him in irons. 
Don’t make me go over your head, Colonel.”  He turned and glared at Crawford. 

The Colonel frowned and stepped the rest of the way into the
latrine, letting the door close softly behind him.  He kept going until he was
inside the man’s personal space, looking down at him.

“Let’s get something straight right now,” Crawford said in a
low, dangerous voice.  “I will decide when and if one of my people gets
arrested.  Not you.  And all I saw was the Major helping you to your feet after
you slipped on a wet tile.  You should be thanking him.”

The man was pompous, but he apparently was smart enough to
recognize when he wasn’t going to win a battle.  After a moment he straightened
his shoulders, smoothed the front of his shirt and smiled at the Colonel.

“Of course.  You’re right, Colonel.  My mistake.  Thank you
for your assistance, Major.  Now, please excuse me.”  He side stepped to get
around Crawford and exited the latrine.

“What the fuck was that about?” Colonel Crawford whirled on
me.  “Do you know who that was?  That was the fucking Chief of Staff for our
new president, here to second guess everything we do.”

“Sorry, sir.”  I said.  And I was sorry.  Sorry I’d put
Crawford in a bad position, again.  I wasn’t the least bit sorry I’d body
slammed the little prick against the wall.

He stood there, staring into my eyes.  “I notice you didn’t
say you won’t do it again.”

“No, sir.  I guess I didn’t say that, did I?” 

Crawford glared at me for a couple more minutes before
sighing and dismissing me.  “Get the fuck out of here so I can take a piss in
peace.”

“Yes, sir.”  I said, grabbing my rifle and heading for the
door.

“Oh, and Major?  Try to not hurt anyone else before I get to
the conference room.”  He said, turning to face a urinal.

“Yes, sir.  I’ll do my best.”  I said and left the latrine.

Walking down the hall, I slung my rifle and out of old habit
shoved my hand into my pocket to make sure I hadn’t lost my keys while in a
rest room.  But I didn’t carry car keys any longer, and all I felt was
Jackson’s dog tag.  Shit.  The Colonel didn’t know.  I came to a stop in the
hall, debating returning to the latrine and telling him, but finally opting to
wait for him in the hall.  He and Jackson went back a long ways.  This was
going to suck.

Crawford took the news about Jackson pretty much like I
expected.  Pain and sadness passed across his face before he locked down his
emotions.  He accepted the dog tag, put it in his pocket, asked a few questions
and thanked me for making sure Jackson’s body was buried.

In the conference room, the man I’d met in the latrine sat
on the far side of the table from Rachel.  Dog, who usually crashed out as soon
as you sat down, was sitting close to her side and not taking his eyes off the
new guy.  I ruffled his ears and took the chair next to Rachel.  As soon as I
sat down, Dog wormed his way under the table and lay down with his chin on my
boot and tail on Rachel’s.  We weren’t going anywhere without him knowing.

The man’s name was Brent Cummings.  As the Colonel had said,
he was the Chief of Staff for the new President.  I was still trying to wrap my
head around that.  Sure, the US has had Presidents assassinated before, but
there has always been a relatively well known Vice President to take over.  For
what I was pretty sure was the first time in the 250 year history of the
nation, we had gone deep into the line of succession.  In fact, according to
Captain Blanchard, we had gone nearly all the way to the end of the list.  If
Kathleen Clark hadn’t been salmon fishing in Alaska…

The meeting was mercifully short.  Crawford and Blanchard
brought me up to speed on events that had transpired while I was out playing
with the wildlife.  I did, I thought, an admirable job of keeping my mouth shut
when they told me about the shoot down of the Antonov.  I didn’t do a good job
of keeping my mouth shut when I learned that Cummings was coming with me to
deliver the SADMs to Irina.

My objections were overruled.  It seemed the President
wanted him to meet Captain Vostov so he could report back on his impressions of
the woman.  What a crock of bullshit.  Something didn’t smell right, but I
didn’t know what it was.  Yet.  I smiled to myself when I thought what Irina,
or Igor, would do to him if he talked about her the way he had about Rachel. 
The meeting broke up with a reminder that Irina would be calling us back at
1020 the next morning.  We were all told to gather in the same conference room
at 1000.

Captain Blanchard had secured a small, vacant house for me. 
The house was part of Tinker’s on base housing and had been occupied by a young
Lieutenant and his wife, but they had been away on leave at the time of the
attacks and had never returned.  As a Ranger drove us to the house, it was
obvious there were a lot of empty homes on Tinker.

Pulling to a stop in front of the structure, he shut the
Humvee’s engine off and jumped out to hold the rear door open for Rachel.  Dog
jumped out and headed for the closest tree.

“I’ll be right outside, if you need anything, sir.”  The
Ranger said.

“Crawford tell you to keep an eye on me?”  I asked him with
a smile.

“Actually, sir, he said the lady has a tendency to get
misplaced, and when that happens you’re a pain in his ass.  Sir.”  He grinned
back.  “I’m here to make sure she doesn’t get misplaced again.”

Rachel looked like she didn’t know whether to be mad or
not.  I, on the other hand, found it immensely funny and couldn’t help but
laugh.

“Thank you, Sergeant.”  I said, leading Rachel up the narrow
walk to the front door and calling Dog off his investigation of a thick hedge
at the side of the small yard.

The house smelled musty from being closed up for at least a
month, but it was spotlessly clean with nothing out of place.  None of the
previous occupants’ personal belongings had been removed and it felt a little
creepy.  Like we were invading their privacy.  Rachel walked over to the narrow
mantle above a small fireplace and looked at several photos of a young couple,
smiling in various poses. 

Besides the small living room, there was a cramped kitchen,
a tiny dining room, a shoebox bedroom with a full sized bed crammed in, and a
bathroom no larger than what you’d find in a cheap motel.  But it was clean;
there were crisp linens on the bed and fluffy towels hanging in the bath.

Dog jumped onto the bed, but Rachel was having none of it
when he immediately smeared mud on the white comforter.  She told him to get
down, which he did, but not without giving her a hurt look and snorting his
displeasure.  He settled for curling up on a small rug in front of the closet,
his back to us. 

“We got interrupted before,” Rachel smiled and started
undressing. 

I smiled back, tossed my rifle on the bed and started to
step forward to take her in my arms, stopping when she held a hand out like a traffic
cop.

“Shower’s that way, big boy.”  She said, pointing at the
bathroom.  “You smell like… well, you need a shower.  Don’t worry.  I’m not
going anywhere.”

Smiling, I stripped off my vest and clothes, the stink from
several days in the field reaching my nose.  She was right.  I smelled.  Bad. 

The shower was small, but I was able to get clean and shave
my head and face.  It seemed like it had taken forever by the time I stepped
back into the bedroom, and I guess it had.  Rachel was sprawled out across the
entire bed, sheet and comforter pulled up to her waist.  And she was sound
asleep.  Walking to the side of the bed I gently rolled her over and slipped
under the covers with her.  Moments later I was out, too, falling immediately
into a deep sleep.

I woke up to sunlight at the window, long hair spilling
across a pillow into my face and a warm, naked female body pressed tightly
against me.  I was spooned against her back, and felt myself responding to the
firm ass that pressed tightly against my groin.  Mind wandering, I thought
about how many mornings I’d had like this with Katie and my erection
disappeared as quickly as it had started.

Before Rachel woke up and expected me to consummate our
relationship, I carefully slipped out of the bed.  Grabbing a clean pair of
underwear out of my pack I went into the bathroom and silently closed the door
behind me.  Leaning on the sink I looked at myself in the mirror.

More years of marriage than I cared to think about, and I’d
never cheated on Katie.  Not because there hadn’t been opportunities, or in a
couple of cases outright offers, but because I’d just not wanted to.  I had
loved Katie from the first moment I’d laid eyes on her, and while I might look
at an attractive woman, I’d never really wanted to touch another one.  Until
now.

I wanted to be with Rachel.  Not because she was beautiful, which
she was, but because I had genuine feelings for her.  Of course being beautiful
didn’t hurt, but there are a lot of beautiful women that I don’t want to sleep
with.  Right now this felt like I was betraying Katie.  Odds were that my wife
was dead, but…  Hell, I didn’t know what the ‘but’ was. 

A loud knock saved me from having to think about it any more
and I stepped out of the bathroom.  Rachel was sitting up in bed, eyes puffy
from sleep and covers held to her breasts.  Dog was already at alert in the
front room.  The knock came again and I headed for the front door after grabbing
my pistol.  No, the infected don’t knock, but I no longer lived in a world
where I was willing to answer the door without a weapon in my hand.

“Good morning, sir.”  It was the same Ranger that had driven
us the previous evening.  “Thought you might want to know the volume of
infected at the fence has increased overnight.  I’m being pulled back to man
the defensive perimeter.  I’ll leave the Hummer here for you.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”  I answered.  “Head or heart shots.”

“Sir?”  He had started to leave, but turned back when I
spoke.

“Head or heart is all that will bring them down quickly. 
Don’t waste your ammo on body shots.”

He looked at me a long moment.  “Thank you, sir.”  He
finally said and turned to trot off down the tree lined street.

I closed the door and was surprised to see Rachel standing
in the small living room.  She had pulled the comforter off the bed and had it
wrapped around her, holding it closed in front.

“Sorry I fell asleep last night.”  She said, letting the
comforter fall to the floor and stepping forward.  “Do we have time before the
call from the Russian?”  She asked, taking my hand.

I looked into her eyes, then lowered my gaze to her nude
body.  I couldn’t speak, wrought with desire for her, yet still unable to stop
thinking that I was betraying my wife.  Finally I shook my head.  Thankfully we
really didn’t have time.