Transmission: Voodoo Plague Book 5 (21 page)

The rest of my group started walking up and three of the
Marines raised their rifles when they saw Igor and recognized his uniform.  I
gestured to Zemeck and he got them calmed down and their rifles lowered.  After
making the introductions, Martinez and I gently placed Evan’s body into the bag
and zipped it up.  She grabbed the feet and I took the head and we carried him
into the waiting Osprey.

Roach was worried.  The maintenance Sergeant and the Security
Forces Airman he’d killed and buried in his back yard were drawing a lot of
attention.  At first there had been a lot of concern that they had turned, that
maybe the vaccine wasn’t effective, and this had dramatically raised the
profile of, and the search for, the missing people.  Her vehicle, equipped with
a GPS locator, had been found quickly where Roach had hidden it behind the base
chapel.  Now there was an effort to pull and review the archived footage from
all the cameras around the base chapel and the water treatment plant.

Unsure if there was a camera focused on the areas where he’d
attacked the two people, Roach had retraced his path from that day and been
dismayed to see one on the front of the chapel that was pointed directly at
where he’d taken the Security Forces Airman.  But it was a long way off and didn’t
appear to have a long lens on it.  Its focal point was most certainly the
parking lot in front of the building, but if it captured him in its frame would
they be able to enhance the image and make an identification?  There were also
numerous cameras in and around the water facility that he could see from the
road.  He didn’t dare try to gain access to the plant to see how many more
there were for fear of drawing unwanted attention.

He had approached the Major that had vetted him when he
first arrived at Tinker, with an offer of assistance on the investigation.  The
Major was leading the investigation, but rejected Roach’s offer, telling him to
stick with his assignment of overseeing the refugees.  With infected ringing
the base there weren’t any new ones coming in, and Roach’s duties had shifted
to baby sitting the large civilian population that had sought shelter at the
Air Force base.

Concern was quickly becoming panic for Roach as the
investigation moved forward.  He hadn’t been careful, acting on impulse in
getting rid of Synthia.  His lack of planning and preparation had started a
domino effect, resulting in the death of the maintenance worker at the water
treatment plant and the young Security Forces Airman.  How had he been so
careless?

Sitting in his small living room, Roach considered taking
his rifle and going in to the Security Forces offices and killing the Major and
anyone else in the building.  He thought about how he would do it, how it would
feel to pull the trigger and see these people cut down.  With a smile he
decided that was the right course of action, then thought better of it and
began mumbling to himself as he thought.  It would only delay the inevitable. 
And there would be more cameras that would capture him in the act.

He had to leave the base.  That was the only answer.  If he
stayed here, a Security Forces tactical team would be knocking his door down
and dragging him away at any time.  He couldn’t let that happen.  He’d rather
die than go through the humiliation of capture and a court martial.  He had to
escape.  But how?  And to where?

Roach got up and started pacing, still mumbling to himself
as he weighed his options.  Driving off the base wouldn’t work.  There were too
many infected at the fence and the base was on a hard lock down.  That left
flying.  But how the hell would he coerce and maintain control of a pilot?  And
if he could, where would he go that was safe?

Walking into the tiny kitchen, Roach poured a finger of
whiskey into a cheap glass.  He downed it in one gulp, coughing as it burned
his throat.  Out of frustration he threw the glass against the wall where it
shattered into a hundred glittering pieces.  When the glass broke, his mind
suddenly cleared and he was able to think without the distraction of panic.  The
first step was to find a safe location.

Back in the living room, Roach pulled out his Air Force
issue laptop and booted it up.  After dealing with numerous login protocols he
was online and knew exactly which sites to check.  A few clicks later and he was
reviewing the reports of the numerous scouting parties that were being sent out
daily.  The scouts were tasked with locating resources, primarily food and
medicine, that the base needed to continue operating. 

As a side benefit, they were also searching and cataloging
large buildings that could be fortified and used to house civilians if
necessary.  It was these that Roach began eagerly reviewing.  He rejected many
of the structures that were listed.  Hospitals and schools had too many windows
and too many doors for him to even hope to successfully barricade against the
infected.  A sports arena caught his eye, but he dismissed it after reading the
scout team leader’s comment that infected would have to be cleared out before
the location could be occupied.

Then, two thirds of the way down the page, he found the
perfect place.  It was large, coming in at nearly 45,000 estimated square feet
that was all on a single level.  There were no windows and very few entrances,
and the team had secured all of the doors on their departure, noting how to
access the building from a rooftop helipad.  It was already cleared of
infected.  There were several kitchens, and though it was noted there was lots
of fresh food that was rotting and would need cleaned out, there was also an
estimated two tons of canned and non-perishable food in storage. 

Roach changed programs and pulled up a map of Oklahoma.  It
was about an hour away by helicopter, and there weren’t any major cities
close.  That meant there shouldn’t be a large population of infected in the
area.  Clicking back to the report, Roach noted the coordinates of the building
on a notepad and sat back to think about how he would get there.

His neighbor!  The man was a pilot, assigned to a transport
wing, and flew Globemasters.  But Roach knew he was also rated for rotor wing
or helicopter.  Controlling the man wouldn’t be hard.  He was a newlywed with a
pretty young wife.  He would do whatever he was told to do to save her. 
Accessing another system, Roach was pleased to find the pilot was currently on
a flight that was in-bound to Tinker from Fort Hood in Texas.  He’d be on the
ground in less than 90 minutes.

Roach moved to a window that looked at his neighbor’s
house.  Standing there he stared and continued to flesh out the plan in his
head.  Half an hour later, he felt he was ready.  The plan was more rushed than
he would have liked, but he knew there was a clock ticking down the last
moments of his freedom if he remained on the base.  Part of him was surprised
that about a hundred Security Forces hadn’t already broken his door down and
taken him into custody.  That is if he made it into custody and wasn’t shot for
“resisting arrest”.

In the bedroom he made his preparations and quickly changed
into a fresh uniform.  A 9 mm pistol was part of his uniform, the daggers
concealed in his clothing weren’t.  He set a short barreled H&K automatic
rifle on the bed, not wanting to have it with him for the first part of his
plan.  Checking himself in the mirror he was satisfied with what he saw and
walked out the front door, marching smartly to his neighbor’s house and ringing
the bell.

The houses were small and it didn’t take long for the woman
to answer the door.  She was young and pretty, but chunkier than Roach liked
his women.  He pasted a smile on his face when she started to open the door and
held it as she looked at him through the screen.

“Hi,” he said, brightly.  “Vanessa, right?  I’m Captain
Roach from next door.”  He turned slightly and pointed at his house.

“Hi.”  She said, a curious look on her face.  She hadn’t met
Roach, but knew her husband had spoken with their new neighbor a few times. 
She’d seen him and his wife coming and going, sometimes at odd hours. 

“I’m really sorry to bother you, but I’m hoping you can
help.  My wife, Tammy, is having a bit of a rough time.  I don’t know if you
knew we barely escaped from Nashville, and she’s having some issues and could
really use another woman to talk to.  I was hoping…”  Roach let the last
sentence trail off, depending on her to be eager to jump at the chance to help
another woman.

Vanessa pushed the screen door open and stepped into the
doorway.  “Oh, the poor thing.  Of course I’d be happy to talk to her. 
Military wives have to stick together.  Bring her around and we’ll have a good
talk.”

Roach made a pretense of hesitating as if embarrassed before
speaking again.  “See, that’s the thing.  She’s locked herself in the bathroom
and won’t come out and I have to report for duty.  I’m sure you know how that
is.  I don’t really want to leave without knowing she’s OK, but my CO won’t be very
understanding if I’m late.”

“Oh.”  Vanessa said.  “Of course.  Let me turn the stove off
and I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you!”  Roach called as she turned and hustled into
the kitchen.

“No problem.”  She said over her shoulder.

A few moments later she pushed out through the screen,
pulled the door closed behind her and walked with Roach the short distance to
his house.  When he opened the front door he leaned in and shouted for Synthia,
calling her Tammy, telling her they had a guest.  Feigning disappointment he
shook his head and stepped back to usher Vanessa through in front of him.

Stepping into the living room she glanced around at the
furnishings.  There was no need to orient herself to the layout as the two
houses were identical copies of each other, and several hundred more than had
been built by an Air Force contractor to a single set of unimaginative but
functional floor plans.  Roach followed her in, softly closing the door after
him.  

“Bathroom?”  Vanessa asked, confirming that was where
Synthia (Tammy) was.  Roach nodded and reached into his pocket.

Vanessa turned and started to walk to the short hall, still
unaware of the peril she was in.  Roach stepped behind her, drew a lead filled,
leather sap from his pocket and hit her across the back of the head.  One thing
he was skilled at was disabling his victims without causing serious injury, and
he struck with just the right amount of force to knock Vanessa to the floor,
unconscious, but otherwise unharmed.

Returning the sap to his pocket, Roach picked her up and
carried her to the bedroom.  He put her in the kitchen chair he had positioned
ahead of time.  It was sitting directly in front of a dark blue blanket that
covered the window.  Quickly restraining the woman, he also gagged her so she
couldn’t scream and possibly be heard by a passerby.

Next he opened the closet and pulled out the rest of the
items he needed.  A wide, leather belt that Synthia had purchased at the Base
Exchange went around the woman’s body, just below her breasts.  Roach attached
a large analog clock to the belt, and on either side of it a bundle of six road
flares, heavily taped to disguise them.  Finally he attached several wires that
ran from the back of the clock and disappeared into each bundle of flares.

Stepping back he eyed his work and smiled in satisfaction. 
Raising a small digital camera he had been using to record images of all the
refugees, he took several pictures of Vanessa from different angles.  After
reviewing them on the small camera screen he deleted them, turned on a couple
of lights in the room and shot several more.  When he reviewed these he was
happy with the results.

The images showed Vanessa tied to a chair, gag in her mouth,
a bomb strapped to her body.  The red hand on the clock face, which indicated
the time the alarm was set to sound, was set for seven hours from now.  Roach
was confident that anyone that wasn’t EOD – Explosive Ordinance Disposal –
rated would look at the photo and completely believe it.

It was two hours later when Air Force Captain Robert Tillman
walked through his front door.  He paused, hand on the knob, when he saw Roach
sitting on his living room sofa.  Roach had his pistol resting on his right
leg, hand lying on top of it.  He didn’t want to shoot the pilot, couldn’t
shoot the pilot, but he didn’t know how the man would react.

“Close the door and sit down, Captain.”  Roach said, nodding
at a lone arm chair a few feet across from him.

“Vanessa?”  Tillman shouted out, leaning slightly to the
side to see into the kitchen.

“She’s not here, but she’s safe.  For the moment.”  Roach
said.  “And every moment you waste by not doing what I tell you is bringing her
closer to dying.”

Tillman was in shock, still rooted in place with the door
knob gripped tightly in his hand.

“Pick up that camera and turn it on.  You’ll be interested
in the pictures on it.”  Roach had left the camera on a small table that sat
adjacent to the front door.

Looking down and seeing the camera, Tillman closed the door
and picked it up.  Turning it on, his face went ashen when he saw the image
come up on the screen.  He looked up at Roach, his face slack with shock, and
Roach knew he had him.  The man had no fight in him.  Just fear of losing his
bride.

“Why are you doing this?  What do you want?”  He stammered,
seeming to have trouble breathing.

“Why isn’t important.  As far as what I want, well, nothing
much.”  Roach said as if making casual conversation.  “I simply need you to fly
me somewhere in a helicopter.  When we get there, I tell you where Vanessa is
and how to deactivate the bomb.  Look closely at that picture.  See the red
hand on the clock?  That’s when the bomb goes off.  You’ve got just under five
hours left.  Where I want to go is about an hour by air.  Plenty of time for
you to make the round trip.  When you drop me off, I tell you where she is.”

Captain Tillman couldn’t do anything other than stare at the
picture. 

“Look at me, Captain.”  Roach said, waiting until the man
raised his eyes.  “You have no choice in this.  Do what I’m asking and she
lives and you’ll be back together in time for dinner.  Disobey me, try to warn
anyone, do anything I don’t like and she dies.”

Roach pulled out a small radio transmitter that was used by
Security Forces to call for back up in an emergency.  He was counting on it not
being recognized by anyone that hadn’t used one before.

“This is a remote detonator.  I can kill her from a hundred
miles away.”  He lied, but was masterfully convincing.  “Do you understand what
you have to do?”

“I understand.”  Tillman said in a voice that was nearly
inaudible.

“I didn’t hear you.”  Roach prompted.

“I understand, but if you’ve hurt one hair on her head…”  He
never finished the sentence.  Roach had anticipated some resistance and as soon
as Tillman said “but” he leapt to his feet, jammed the muzzle of the pistol
into his throat and snatched the camera out of his hand.

“Take a close look, Captain.”  Roach said, holding the
screen up in front of Tillman’s eyes.  “If you want to be a hero, be a hero by
doing what I tell you and saving her.  Making empty threats that you have no
way to carry out is a waste of time she doesn’t have.  Do you really want to
find out what all those sticks of dynamite will do to her?”

“No.  Don’t hurt her.  I’ll do what you’re asking.”  He
finally said through clenched teeth.

“Marvelous!”  Roach cried with a smile, thoroughly enjoying
himself. 

For a moment he almost believed the lie that Vanessa was
still alive, but he had killed her with a quick dagger thrust to the heart
minutes after he’d taken her photo with the fake bomb.  Moving away from the
pilot he turned the camera off and pocketed it, but kept the pistol in his hand
just in case the man decided to try something stupid.

“Here’s what you’re going to do.”  Roach said, moving so the
arm chair was between them.  “There’s a Pave Hawk fueled, armed and ready to go
for a scout mission that’s scheduled to take off in two hours.  It’s on the
apron in front of hangar 23.”

“How do you know that?”  Tillman asked, a surprised look on
his face.

“I’m Security Forces, Captain.  There are not many systems
on this base I can’t access.  Including flight planning and operations.  Now,
no more questions.  Tick tock.  Remember?”  The man nodded, swallowing
nervously.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.  You’re going to go straight
to the flight line.  Once you arrive I want you close to that helicopter.  I’m
going to create a distraction that will pull security away.  As soon as it’s
clear, you are to board the Pave Hawk and be ready to take off immediately when
I arrive. 

“If you’re not there, I detonate the bomb.  If there’s
anyone with you, I detonate the bomb.  If you tell anyone and they try to
interfere in any way, I detonate the bomb.  Vanessa’s life is in your hands. 
Do what I’m telling you and a couple of hours from now you’ll be back
together.  Am I perfectly clear?”  Roach stared into the man’s eyes, looking
for any sign of rebellion.  He saw anger and fear, but nothing else.

“You’re perfectly clear.  I’ll be there waiting.  Where are
we going?”

“I have a set of GPS coordinates I’ll give you once we’re in
the air and clear of the base.  Now, I’ve got a couple of things to do and will
meet you at the helicopter.  Don’t forget your wife’s life depends on your
cooperation.  Say nothing.”  Roach wanted to keep reinforcing the threat.  He
was a little concerned about overplaying his hand and pushing Tillman to go for
help, but he had to make sure the man believed his wife would die if he didn’t
cooperate.

“On your way,” Roach ordered, waving his hand towards the
door.

Tillman stared at him for a few heartbeats before turning
and walking away.  Roach stepped to the front window and watched him climb into
his car, slam the door and start the engine.  As soon as he was out of the
driveway and en route to the flight line, Roach holstered his pistol and dashed
out the door and across the lawn to his waiting Humvee.

Driving cautiously, he crossed the base, passing the large
hangars where the refugees were processed.  They were close to the perimeter
fence, but there was a road that circled the base running behind them and this
was where he headed.  Pulling to a stop on the pavement, Roach took a careful
look around the area.

He was screened from the main part of the base by a hangar. 
He could see at least a mile in either direction and there was no sign of any
patrols.  In front of him, hundreds of infected were jammed tight against a 12
foot tall, reinforced chain link fence that was topped with dual coils of razor
wire.  There weren’t enough of them to have started piling up and spilling over
the fence, but there were enough to cause a hell of a panic.

Getting out of the Humvee, he unwrapped a stout chain from
brackets welded to the front bumper.  The chain was long with hooks on each end
and was there to aide in the recovery of a vehicle that got stuck off road. 
Roach had a different use for it in mind.

Dragging the chain behind him, he trotted 20 feet to the
closest steel post that supported the fence.  The infected grew more agitated
every step he took towards them, the females starting to scream when he reached
the fence.  Careful to avoid the fingers that were being thrust through the
mesh, he threaded the chain around the post and slipped the hook on its end
through one of the links.

Running back to the Hummer he glanced over his shoulder,
surprised at how fast the crowd of infected was growing in response to the
screams from the females.  Picking up the free end of the chain he hooked it
into a D ring that was welded to the vehicle’s frame and stuck out through an
opening in the rear bumper.  A quick tug and he was satisfied it was secure and
climbed in behind the wheel.

Lifting the H&K off the passenger seat he worked the
sling over his head and got it into a comfortable position.  A glance in the
mirror and then he floored the throttle.  Roaring forward, the Humvee gained
momentum as the chain paid out behind it, then after 30 feet it snapped taut. 
The heavy Hummer jerked hard when it hit the end of the chain, the reinforced
steel post resisting, but it hadn’t been designed to withstand the force Roach
was able to put on it.

With a screech of tortured metal, the post started to bend
at the first instant of tension.  A moment later it was torn lose from the
concrete piling it was mounted to.  The chain link mesh that was attached to
the post began to deform, but it had already been stretched tight when the
fence was installed.  It gave a couple of inches, then began tearing with a
sound not unlike fabric being ripped in half.  A couple of seconds later a 30
foot wide gap opened up in the fence line and infected began pouring through
onto Tinker Air Force Base.

Roach drove a hundred yards as fast as he could, dragging
the fence section behind him.  Screeching to a stop he jumped out and quickly
unhooked the chain from the back bumper, hopped back in and roared away, female
infected in hot pursuit. 

“If that doesn’t pull security off the flight line, I don’t
what will.”  Roach thought to himself as he drove, a broad smile breaking out
across his face.  He followed the perimeter road for a quarter of a mile then
turned to cut across the base.  He had one more stop to make before going to
the helicopter.