A Time to Die (45 page)

“No, Oz, these men are just leaving.”

The Navy doctor considered for a moment, then simply nodded and left. There’d been no sign of them in the laboratory area of the facility since. She’d asked Robert to keep two of his people on guard at all times. He didn’t seem to mind at all. Said he looked forward to roughing up some squids, whatever that meant.

The view out the balcony was like what she remembered from San Diego Harbor at Regatta Day. There were now hundreds of boats and ships of every imaginable type tied up to each other and then to the HAARP platform in vast groups leading out like spokes from a wheel.

The military presence was formidable. From the first Coast Guard cutter, the USS
Boutwell
, then the Marine amphibious assault carrier USS
Essex
. Dozens of boats and ships drifted in. Then the USS
George Washington
, a supercarrier and its entire task force showed up with hundreds more vessels. It had just left for Japan days ago and turned around when everything started to go to hell.

As she watched another carrier was arriving, the USS
Carl Vinson
, with all its ships and more refugees. She’d been informed that the USS
Ronald Reagan
was a few hours out, as was the USS
Gerald Ford
, though that ship was not yet fully operational it did have its full crew and facilities.

“There are more every hour.” Lisha glanced over to see her assistant Edith leaning on the railing. “How are they going to feed them all?”

“We can devise means of cooking,” Lisha said. “It won’t work too well with fish, the temperature is so high it almost crisps it.”

“Christopher has been experimenting with soups cooked in a pressure cooker,” Edith said.

“Our mad chef? He’s subjecting it all to testing, isn’t he?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Lisha turned back to the flotilla. “I understand there is another of these off Norfolk. It’s as if the government is abandoning the land.”

“You’ve seen the webcasts,” Edith said, “mega-swarms in many of the cities. Others roving across the countryside. The last numbers from the CDC?”

“I helped formulate the numbers,” Lisha reminded her. It suggested as much as 90% infection rate within seventy-two hours of loss of containment. She’d snorted at that. The thing had never been contained. Aside from possibly a weird non-normal fox, there appeared to be no Patient Zero either. Nothing had prepared the world’s medical community for a plague like this. A zombie apocalypse. Impossible. And yet, here they were.

“Dr. Breda,” a lab tech came out onto the balcony, “the latest treatment runs are ready.”

“Thank you, Teresa,” Lisha said and turned to go back inside. At the edge of the formation a cruise ship was just arriving, escorted by a Coast Guard frigate.

Chapter 28

Tuesday, April 25

Afternoon

The celebration in the operation center was kept short. A toast was offered to the Operation Donner Pass teams, both the C-17 flight teams and the bulldozer teams. Just about everyone cheered and some of the last Cokes were shared around. And then it was back to work.

Andrew and the flight teams all retired to bunks for some sleep while every other able hand set to work. The C-17s were fueled, checked for damage from the operation, and loading was begun. Lacking any actual C-17 loadmasters resulted in twice the expected time being taken. Tobey and Kathy managed to get a few minutes alone.

“When I heard one of the operator teams was lost…” she said as the door closed to the tiny room and she fairly flew into his arms. “I almost died,” she began to cry.

“I’m fine,” he assured her and stroked her hair, noticing that she’d finally gotten a shot at a shower. She smelled like soap and beauty. “Except for that crane failure, we had a pretty easy go of it. That Air Force puke, Andrew, is a pretty solid pilot.”

“Seems to be,” she agreed and nuzzled her head under his chin. “Do you have to go right back?” The unspoken additional question was evident in the way she conformed her body to his.

“I have a few minutes,” he said as her face turned up to his and their mouths met. It ended up taking more than just a few minutes.

* * *

Andrew and his flight crew were awoken just after noon by a very young and nervous looking pilot.

“Preflight in 15 minutes, sir.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” Andrew said and gave him a little salute. The kid smiled and left the door partly open. “Up and at ‘em!” he yelled and shook the cot next to him. Chris made a rude gesture and tried to go back to sleep. “Come on, and go get Pillsbury up. We have preflight in fifteen minutes.” Chris slowly sat up and ran a hand up and down his face vigorously while making dubba-dubba-dubba sound.

“Fine, fine, fine,” he said and sat up. Confident that at least one of them was up, Andrew went down the hall to the tiny shower. Two other men were already there, but being in the military for years had scrubbed away any sense of modesty. He dropped his clothes on a bench and found an available shower head.

The water was hot, and the soap plentiful. No shampoo was in sight though and he was considering using the hand soap when the man next to him held out a small bottle.

“Here, sir,” the man said. “You saved our ass bringing out that bird. Least I can do is share some of my shampoo.”

“Thanks…” he said and realized that naked in the shower meant he had no clue of the man’s rank.

“Air Sergeant Hickens,” he said and shook his head.

“I didn’t know there were any other Air Force personnel here.”

“Not many, sir. And my MOS was computers. So I’m pretty much useless on the C-17s.” He shrugged. “I’ve been helping load the birds, doing what I can.”

“Glad to have a fellow Air Force man,” Andrew said and took a minimal amount of shampoo before handing it back.

“Chair Force,” an Army man nearby snorted, then turned and winked at them. Intra-service rivalry made the military go round.

“Don’t worry, grunt,” Hickens said, “We’ll still give you a ride.”

He was just finishing when Chris and Wade showed up. Chris looked like he was still sleepwalking while Wade looked wide awake. The big man examined the communal shower with obvious distaste. Andrew understood his discomfort. Being both out of shape and a civilian, he probably hadn’t stripped in front of other men since high school.

Down the hall in their room he dug out a clean pair of skivvies from the pairs he’d drawn upon arrival and found a surprise. Hanging from the door was a brand new Nomex flight suit, complete with rank insignia and name patch.

“Now where in the hell did they find that?” he wondered, then didn’t waste time thinking about it. He dressed and headed out, passing his two friends returning from the showers. Wade looked unhappy, but clean. He hoped no one had given the kid any shit. He’d acquitted himself out there just fine, holding up his end of the deal even with his poor showing in repelling. “Hurry up,” he reminded them. They both nodded.

Outside he found the rain still coming down and the airfield abuzz with activity. There was an overhang where he could watch out of the rain. Most of the huge piles of gear were gone now, as were many of the helicopters. He’d slept right through them leaving. The least of the gear was being loaded into some of the choppers and into the Globemasters. All that was left were six Apaches, an old Cobra gunship, four Chinooks and the two lone Ospreys.

“This is our moment of greatest risk, Lieutenant,” a voice said. Andrew glanced over and saw the general standing there smoking a cigarette.

“I thought the Army was non-smoking.”

“I quit ten years ago,” the general said. “Started again yesterday. If I’m going to get eaten by a zombie, I figured fuck it.”

Andrew just shrugged. He’d never gotten the habit. Smoking, dipping, or even coffee. He preferred tea. “We’ve had a Kiowa out almost constantly. An hour ago it spotted another horde coming from the south, drawn by all this activity.”

“Austin?” Andrew wondered. The general nodded. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” he said. “We’ve sent a third of our strength out on Chinooks already.”

“So we have a destination?” Andrew asked.

“Sort of.” Andrew looked at him pointedly. “Los Angeles.”

“That doesn’t sound logical,” Andrew said. “Just the population…”

“I know, same here. But there are a lot of military bases there, and we’ve gotten intermittent shortwave traffic indicating that LAX is still open and planes are landing.”

“Wow, that’s long odds.” Andrew the math in his head. “Around a thousand nautical miles?”

“More like 1,060 from here to LAX.” Andrew shrugged.

“What’s the range of the Chinook?”

“1,261 miles.”

“Oh,” Andrew said. “Planning to refuel en route?”

“We pass within fifty miles of two bigger airports and a handful of municipal. They’re scouting as we go. They have a little extra range in the scout Chinooks, with less than full loads. Thanks to you guys getting the C-17s, we have a few more options.”

“The Globemasters will have a lot of options,” Andrew said. “Hell, we could make Hawaii without a stretch. But if we get there without refueling the Chinooks…”

“Yeah,” the General said. The rest didn’t need to be stated. “The bigger problem is the Ospreys. They’re only good for a bit over a thousand miles. If we can’t refuel we’ll have to land and abandon them.”

“Any passengers?” Andrew asked.

“Just gear,” General Rose said. “We’ll have plenty of room for the crews on the Chinooks.”

Just then a bell sounded from the south perimeter, followed by the unmistakable sound of helicopter chaingun firing. Both men moved over to that side and watched. A second later a series of green parachute flares popped into the sky and was quickly followed by a long series of thunderous explosions.

“Claymores,” the general said and took one last long drag from his cigarette before dropping it onto the dirty concrete sidewalk and crushing it out under his heal. “Time’s up. Get your crew to the transports.” The general’s aide came running up and the two set off purposefully. Andrew never even had a chance to ask how he was getting out.

The base exploded into frantic activity. The defensive units initiated a controlled fallback, concentrating their coverage of key points as they moved towards the actual airfield. The last of the cargo was loaded onto the C-17s and their crews ran towards them.

Tobey came out of the temporary barracks with Kathy right behind him. She looked up in confusion at the green flares falling slowly in the rain and looked at Andrew.

“The base is going to fall,” he told her. “Get to C-17 44F,” he said and pointed to one of the towering plane’s tails where the marking was visible.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m tasked with defense of that plane with my men.” The now familiar squad of men came trotting up, loaded with huge amounts of gear and ammo. They handed Tobey a similarly loaded pack and web harness.

“I want to go with you.”

“Not this time,” he said. She started to protest and he put a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, damn it. You are damned good with a rifle. Keep the HK-91.” One of the operators handed him a rig with the H&K. Somewhere they’d found some magazines for it and they were all loaded with 7.62x54 military ball. “Help protect the civilians. The loadmaster is holding a seat in first class for you. Be there, be safe. I’ll make it on board, I promise.”

She looked at him with wide eyes, but let him fit the battle rattle to her. The operators looked at her skeptically but she pulled a magazine, checked the rifle and fit a mag skillfully, grabbing the forward mounted charging handle and racking a round into the chamber. They looked at each other and smiled.

“You fucking better make it,” she snapped and reached a hand behind his head and pulled him into a kiss. The operators hooted and hollered and Tobey actually blushed.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” one of them said and winked, “we’ll bring the colonel back to you.”

“Stow it,” Tobey ordered them and they came to mock attention. “Get to the plane,” he told her. “I’ll see you shortly!” Before she had time to complain he and his four men raced off in another direction, leaving her alone as people raced in every direction.

For a long moment she considered following him and damn his admonitions. But then she noticed a huge group of civilians. They were just like her, but scared shitless. None of them were armed and they were completely confused as dozens of military personnel ran by, many yelling orders to each other and all with a purpose. They were like an island in the maelstrom.

“Where are you supposed to go?” she asked one of the women. She held up a card that had a hand printed 44F in black Sharpie. “Same as me,” Kathy said. The women looked at her in confusion, at her military jumpsuit with no rank or patches and the big black battle rifle she held cross body and vest full of magazines.

“Come on,” Kathy said, making her decision, “let’s get onto the plane.”

* * *

Andrew climbed the crew ladder that had been put in place. It wasn’t made for the C-17 so it was several feet too short, forcing him to jump up to get inside. Chris followed easily but they had to turn around and pull Wade up.

First class was already partly filled with military command staff, some doctors and other specialists. At the rear the bunks had injured in place that were in too poor of a shape to survive the hours it would take for the helicopters to make it all the way to LAX. Nurses tended to them, securing IV bags and hooking up monitors to the on-board power.

The plane’s own APU was running already. That had not been an option in the hangar, but because no one had known the condition of the plane’s batteries they’d gone with the external APU to avoid having to fall back on it instead of starting there.

Wade dropped into the engineer’s seat and consulted the operations manual. After comparing some of the switches and controls, he began the pre-start sequence. As Andrew used the overhead to get into his pilot’s seat, he could see the engines already turning and temps coming up. Wade had used the preheaters and saved him a couple minutes of nursing them to fight temp.

“Good job on the prestart,” he told Wade, who grinned and gave a thumbs up. “Here we go.” The engines began to roar to life as he put his headset up. “Load master, report?”

“We’re about two-thirds loaded, Captain,” came a reply immediately. Andrew could hear the sounds of hundreds of voices over the intercom.

“Buzz me as soon as we’re cleared!” Andrew said and clicked off the intercom.

From their high perch he had a wonderful view of the airfield defense, and just how desperate it was becoming. Several Apaches were making wild strafing runs along all sides of the perimeter, sometimes dangerously close to each other. Tracers lit up the gloom of the storm through the rain like laser bolts in a sci-fi movie. He desperately wished he were in a ground attack fighter, or something other than a big fat helpless transport waiting for his fate to be revealed.

The other two C-17s were finishing their loads. He could see they carried some military personnel but mostly pallet after pallet of gear. 23P was already raising their ramp, the pilot starting his taxi even before the ramp was secure. One of the Apaches came in for a landing, crews racing to refuel it while another desperately kept pouring fire onto the screaming hordes coming from the south.

It was inevitable that something would go wrong. Andrew looked up from checking the temperature on all four engines just in time to see an Apache effect a tight turn at the far end of the runway, where they would rotate and climb away. Something happened, the turn became steadily tighter until the helicopter was perpendicular to the ground, then it seemed to hold there for a long instant.

“Oh no,” Andrew moaned as the chopper side slipped into the ground and became a mushroom cloud of fire and debris. It had landed squarely on the northern perimeter fence corner, obliterating a fifty-yard section of fence as it slammed in and exploded. Even the ten-foot-tall concrete barriers were sent flying through the air by the titanic impact and explosion. In moments the infected were streaming in.