Fulcrum: V Plague Book 12 (19 page)

There weren’t any infected as we drove from the freeway to
Luke Air Force Base.  The road was broad, which was good as there were
frequently wrecked or abandoned vehicles blocking the way.  Not so we
couldn’t make progress, but they slowed us more than I liked.

The area had been in a transition period as urban sprawl
took over.  We alternately passed established neighborhoods, empty fields
that had once grown crops, and more than a few developments that were under
construction.  But, no infected.

“Why aren’t there any?”  Rachel asked, looking around
nervously.

“No idea,” I said, steering around a National Guard deuce
and a half that was on its side, straddling two lanes.

“Maybe the heat here, too?”

“What are you talking about?”  Tiffany asked from the
backseat.

Rachel spent a few minutes filling her in on the theory that
the virus couldn’t survive extreme temperatures.  She nodded when the
explanation was over, not asking any more questions.

Ahead and to my left, I caught sight of the air base’s
perimeter fence, glittering in the sun.  I was encouraged to see that it
was still standing.  Well, at least the part within my view. 

“Luke coming up on the left,” I said to alert Rachel that we
were approaching our destination.

Soon, we reached a section of the road where the fence ran
parallel to the pavement.  I followed it for a few minutes, coming to a
stop short of the main gate.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”  I asked in frustration.

Several bollards extended up from the cement apron leading
to a stout bar that controlled vehicle access to the base.  I sat staring
at them for a long moment, debating just abandoning our attempt to change to a
military vehicle and getting back on the road.  As it was, it would be
dark by the time we made it to Puerto Penasco.

But we needed other things, too.  If we didn’t change
vehicles, it wasn’t that big of a deal.  However, the state of our ammo
supply hadn’t improved.  We really had to find an armory.  I knew
there was a Cabela’s in the other direction, near the burned out stadium, but I
had little doubt it had been stripped bare in the days after the attacks.

“Want me to lower them?”  Tiffany asked, shoving Dog
aside so she could push her head forward, between the seats.

There really was no other decision.  In addition to
ammo, we needed supplies.  Rachel had brought a well-stocked medical kit
from Groom Lake, fully expecting the man to be in rough shape.  It had
been lost in one of the Humvees when the dam failed.  Sure, we could
probably find a civilian hospital, but they hadn’t been protected the way one
on a military base would have been.  There was too great a chance they
would have been stripped clean.

“Yes,” I said with a sigh.  “Sit tight for a
second.  Let me and Dog check the area.”

I took a long look around, seeing nothing that even
resembled a threat.  Gripping my rifle, I stepped out onto the asphalt,
Dog jumping down right behind me.  He lifted his nose and sampled the
gentle breeze, but didn’t react to anything he may have smelled.  Walking
forward, I cautiously checked the gatehouse, finding it empty.  Another
slow circle and I was confident we weren’t in imminent danger.

Waving the girls forward, I stepped over to a large metal
plate set into the concrete.  The three of us quickly had it open. 
Tiffany jumped in without hesitating, and within a very few seconds, the
bollards began retracting.

I reached in and grabbed her hand, lifting her back to
ground level.  We had to drive across the opening to the maintenance pit,
so I muscled the hinged cover up and let it drop into place with a loud clang.

“What about that?”  Rachel pointed at the red and white
striped gate arm.

I walked over and tested it.  It was some sort of
metal, probably aluminum.  Not secure, by any stretch, but I didn’t want
to crash it with the Tahoe and risk damaging our vehicle.  There was no
guarantee that we’d find a replacement on the base.

Tiffany had followed me over and wasted no time in attacking
the bolts that held the arm to the motorized swivel that would raise it. 
I supported its weight as she removed the final two bolts, then turned and
tossed it to the side, instantly regretting my action.

Between closing the access plate, and now dropping a metal
pole onto the concrete, I was making enough noise to alert every infected even
remotely close to our location.  Irritated with myself for getting sloppy,
I herded everyone back to the Tahoe.

I drove through the opening and down a long access road that
paralleled part of the runway system.  Another fence protected the very
long stretches of tarmac, and in the distance I could make out the forms of
dozens of aircraft parked beneath sunshades. 

Luke was a training base, and there was everything from
F-16s to F-35s, and even a small group of Ospreys.  One of the latter
would have been perfect if I only knew how to fly.  Fast as a plane, but
with the ability to hover like a helicopter.  I couldn’t think of a better
platform to use in our search for the pilot.  Those thoughts made me think
about Martinez, and I forced myself to focus on something else before I started
remembering all the people I’d cared about, and lost.

Pausing at an intersection long enough to read the signs, I
turned for the base hospital.  Driving across the sprawling air base was
surreal.  Other than the complete absence of any life, it was
untouched.  No buildings were burned out or fences torn down.  There
were no wrecked vehicles, left abandoned for all eternity.  No bodies on the
ground or even a hint of violence.  Nothing.

The only things out of place were the pieces of trash that
had collected along the base of chain link fences.  You’d never see that
on a functioning military base.  If you did, you could be assured there
was a General about to be relieved of his or her command. 

Passing the gate for the flight line, I pulled to a stop for
a longer look.  It was closed and locked.  I briefly surveyed the
parked aircraft on the far side of the runway, then turned to look at the motor
pool on the opposite side of the road.

“Why aren’t there any vehicles here?”  Rachel
asked.  “Everywhere else we’ve been, there’s always been plenty left
behind.”

Tiffany’s interest was piqued, and she squeezed past Dog to
push her head into the front so she could listen to our conversation.

“There was no release of nerve gas in this area,” I
said.  “And if your theory about the heat is right, the virus may not have
been able to survive here long enough to take hold.  This is one of the
few places in the country that’s hotter than Vegas in the summer.

“It’s starting to make a little more sense.  Those FEMA
trailers at the stadium?  The locals weren’t fighting infected.  They
were just trying to survive the summer and each other.  And with there not
being a single vehicle on the base, I’m guessing there was an evacuation.”

“Then why did they leave all the planes behind?” 
Tiffany asked, pointing across the runway.

I took another look, mentally cataloging the aircraft
sitting in the shaded parking spots.  Looking further on, I saw several
massive hangars with their doors standing wide open.  They were all empty,
and there were two large areas of tarmac close to them that were also empty.

“There’s only combat aircraft remaining,” I said,
re-scanning the flight line.  “No cargo or transport planes left. 
Anything that could carry supplies or passengers is gone.”

“Does that make sense to you?”  Rachel asked. 

I shook my head, trying to figure things out.  I may
tell jokes about the Air Force, but then that was part of the oath I swore when
I enlisted in the Army.  But it didn’t make sense for an obviously
functional Air Force Base to just pack up and leave.  Unless there were
some pretty strange circumstances that I didn’t know about.  Something
that had caused them to run.

“Could they have gone to Hawaii?”  Rachel asked.

“And leave all those fighters behind?”  I asked, though
it was a rhetorical question.

“Could they make it that far?”  Tiffany asked.

“Easily.  As long as they were able to refuel in
flight, and I’ve got no doubt there were several tankers at this base.”

We sat there thinking about the mystery for another
minute.  Rachel started to pose another question, but I cut her off. 
It was time for us to start moving.  We still needed to find the hospital,
but after seeing how there was seemingly an orderly evacuation, I was concerned
it would have been completely stripped of medical supplies.

I drove forward to an intersection and followed the sign to
the base hospital.  It wasn’t terribly large, but then it only had to
serve the few thousand military, and their dependents, that were assigned to
the base.  Besides, being on the edge of a major metropolitan area meant
there was plenty of advanced healthcare right outside the gates.

There were no vehicles in the parking lot, and I wheeled
into the space closest to the entrance.  A large sign warned that it was
reserved for Lt. Colonel Adams, who had probably been in command of all of the
medical staff and facilities on the base.

“Tiffany, swap rifles with me again.  Remember to keep
your finger off the trigger unless you have a target and are ready to
shoot.  And don’t shoot unless there’s no other option.  Understood?”

“I got it,” she said, sounding slightly miffed at my
instructions.

We spent thirty seconds trading weapons, and I was glad to
note that as I began checking mine for readiness, she copied me.  She
might still sound like a teenaged girl from time to time, but she definitely
had her head on straight.  But then, that’s probably why she was still
alive.

“Dog and I lead.  You two have rear security. 
Once we’re inside and find the supplies, Dog and I will provide security while
you collect what you need.  No talking unless there’s a threat, and no
noise that can be avoided.  Questions?”

Neither of them had any, so we stepped out into the parking
lot.  I turned a circle, looking for any danger, but other than the sound
of a gentle breeze, it was eerily silent.  Dog’s nose was up, but he
remained quiet.

I began leading the way to the pair of glass doors at the entrance
but pulled to a stop with a raised fist.  I hadn’t seen or heard anything,
but something was bothering me.  The little hairs on my arms were standing
up.  It felt like I was being watched.

Pulling the rifle scope to my eye, I turned slowly, giving
our surroundings another look.  Nothing.  Raising the weapon, I
scanned every rooftop that overlooked the area.  Still nothing. 
Taking a deep breath, I glanced down at Dog.  He was on full alert but
showed no signs of having detected anything of concern.  Letting the
breath out, I got us moving again, unable to shake the feeling.

“We need to do this fast,” I said in a mumble when we paused
at the doors.

“What’s wrong?”  Rachel mouthed silently.

“Just a feeling.  Let’s go.”

I pulled on the door, mildly surprised to find it
locked.  Pressing my face against the glass, I peered into the dark
interior, looking for infected.  Not seeing any, I stepped back and fired
a short burst through the door.  Battering the damaged glass out of the
way, I took another look, then reached through and released the lock.

Opening the door, I kept my rifle aimed at the interior as
Dog stepped forward to check the air.  Again, he remained quiet and,
seeing nothing moving, I led the way into the building.

We found the ER with no difficulty.  I wished I’d had
the conversation with Rachel before we came inside.  If I’d known the
Emergency Room was our destination, I would have parked in the ambulance
bay.  Oh well, my own fault for not asking. 

One thing about the military, they aren’t shy about posting
very visible signage that will easily direct someone to a specific location
within a building.  As long as it’s not a security concern.  And a
hospital certainly doesn’t qualify, so it was simply a matter of following the
proverbial
yellow brick road
.

The hallways were empty and clean.  There was no smell
of death, rather a mustiness with a sharp, underlying tang of
disinfectant.  We moved quietly, Dog’s nails making more noise on the hard
floor than the soles of our boots.  Well-worn running shoes in Tiffany’s
case.  I needed to find her a pair of boots, but that wasn’t a priority.

Reaching the ER, we cautiously cleared the space. 
Gurneys were neatly draped with sheets and pushed against the wall. 
Treatment areas were clean and orderly.  Whatever had prompted the Air
Force personnel to depart, they’d most certainly had plenty of time to
prepare.  It was almost like they were expecting to come back.

When I was satisfied there weren’t any lurking infected or
survivors that would jump out and try to harm us, I motioned for Rachel to
start gathering what she needed.  Tugging on Tiffany’s arm, she had the
girl follow her into a cramped space behind the nurses’ station.  I made
another scan of the area, then glanced at them.

Rachel met my eyes and nodded as she began grabbing supplies
out of a tall cabinet.  Tiffany held open a large, plastic waste bag and
Rachel deposited the items into it.  They worked for several minutes, then
moved to where Dog and I were standing, keeping watch.  Each of them held
a heavy plastic bag, bulging with medical supplies.

“Find everything you need?”  I mumbled without taking my
eyes off a long hallway.

“We’re good,” Rachel said, adjusting her burden on her
shoulder.

Turning, I retraced our steps through the hospital.  It
only took a short time to reach the entrance doors, and I brought us to a stop
when I saw a flicker of movement.  It had come from behind a row of low-growing
bushes that bordered the parking lot, neatly separating it from a broad area of
desert-scaped ground that fronted the entrance. 

I was well back from the doors, standing in shadow, and was
comfortable that anyone outside in the bright sunlight wouldn’t be able to see
me.  A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed that Rachel and Tiffany had
frozen in place.  Dog was directly beside me, but I didn’t think he’d
spotted whatever had caught my eye.  Staying as still as a statue, I kept
watching.  Waiting.

Sure, it could have been a bird.  Or a rabbit.  Or
even a dog.  But I didn’t think so.  Other than hearing the coyotes,
and the small family of burrowing rodents that Dog had enjoyed hunting at Groom
Lake, I hadn’t seen any indication there was any wildlife remaining.  I
didn’t dwell on this as the implications were almost too horrifying to
contemplate.

After nearly five minutes, I saw it again.  This time,
I happened to be looking in exactly the right spot and recognized what I’d seen
as a man’s arm.  He’d been scratching an itch on the back of his
neck.  An inch at a time, I slipped sideways to gain a better viewing
angle.  Now I could see the son of a bitch.

He was prone on the sandy soil of the landscaping, almost
completely concealed behind the spreading branches of an ocotillo cactus. 
What appeared to be a civilian deer rifle rested on the ground, the muzzle thrust
into the hedge and aimed at the entrance doors. 

We were very lucky this wasn’t a trained sniper who had the
discipline to remain perfectly still.  Only a flash of movement had
alerted me to his presence.  He was dressed in desert tan camouflage
clothing, and with the screen from the cactus, was basically invisible.  Unless
he gave his position away.  Fortunately for us, he had.  If we’d come
strolling out the front doors, he would have been completely hidden from view
and could have put bullets through us before I even knew he was there.

I spent several more minutes searching the area with my eyes. 
My head didn’t move as I looked for more people waiting in ambush. 
Eventually, I gave up.  Either there weren’t anymore, or they were in
locations that I couldn’t see.  Slowly, I retreated deeper into the
hospital, waving Dog ahead of me.

Rachel and Tiffany had taken up positions in two doorways,
watching our backs with their rifles up and ready.  I stopped next to
Rachel and told her what was going on.

“Just one?” 

“That’s all I can see, but I can’t imagine he’s alone. 
Can’t get a good view of the surroundings, and can only see a corner of the
Tahoe.  There could be thirty more of them out there for all I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Back to the ER and find a good hiding place for you two and
Dog.  I’m going out through the ambulance bay and see what I can do.”

By now, Rachel had learned there was no point in protesting
or arguing when I told her I was going to do something.  She liked to
tease me, calling me Rambo in situations like this.  It had irritated the
hell out of me at first, but I’d come to realize it was just how she dealt with
the stress of not knowing if I’d return.

We went back to the ER, and the girls settled into the small
alcove behind the nurses’ station.  I told Dog to stay with them, and he
obeyed, but still gave me a look that said I was foolish not to take him
along.  I ruffled his ears, reminded Rachel to stay absolutely quiet, and
headed for the ambulance bay.

The doors were two large panels of sliding glass that would
open wide enough to admit a gurney with medics walking on either side.  I
approached cautiously, staying to the deeper shadows.  Several minutes of
careful observation didn’t reveal anyone lying in wait, so I stepped forward and
carefully pried them apart.

When the opening was wide enough for me to slip through, I
moved fast.  The ambulance bay was a broad concrete apron with a high
ceilinged overhang to protect it from the weather.  It was the last place
I wanted to be dragging my feet as there was absolutely nothing to conceal me
from an enemy.

Dashing across the area, I threw myself to the ground behind
a thick clump of dwarf date palms.  Waited for a bullet to come my way, or
a shout of surprise at my sudden appearance.  But neither happened. 

Controlling my breathing, I crouched behind the rough trunks
of the trees and listened as hard as I could.  I couldn’t hear anything
over the scraping of palm fronds that were being rubbed together by the
breeze.  That didn’t make me feel any better.

The front corner of the building was thirty yards to my
right, and the hedge the sniper was using for concealment followed the pavement
right to where I was hiding.  I had no idea what kind of plant had been
used to create the border, but it was close to three feet high.  Jagged
shaped, waxy green leaves grew densely, and even from several feet away I could
see the branches were lined with small thorns.  Pushing through it would
be impossible without using a sharp blade and making a lot of noise.

But, I didn’t want to push through.  I wanted to use it
for cover to reach the man waiting to ambush us.  So far, I hadn’t seen or
heard any sign to tell me he wasn’t alone.  However, I was counting on him
having some friends along.  Well, the first step was to spot
everyone.  Then I could decide on the best way to handle them.

Once I had taken another careful listen, trying to pay close
attention between the scrapes of the fronds, I began crawling on my knees and
elbows.  After about the third rock that jabbed into me, I was becoming
nostalgic for the days when I would have had pads on my joints to protect
them.  But, I didn’t have any, so I sucked it up and kept going until I
reached the concealment of the hedge. 

Another pause to listen.  Nothing.  Moving slower,
I worked my way to the corner, stopping to peer around and listen again. 
Still quiet.  Once I was sure I wasn’t in imminent threat of attack, I
took a moment to remove my rifle scope.  Holding it like a monocular, I
stuck my head up and carefully scanned all of the rooftops in the area. 
If the guy had any buddies with him, they hadn’t moved to high ground to keep
watch.

Moving slowly to ensure I didn’t make any sound, I
reattached the scope and turned the corner.  The guy I was hunting was on
the opposite side of the hedge, about 100 yards away.  Halfway between us,
a sidewalk cut through, leaving a three-foot gap in the foliage.  If I
transitioned at that point, I would be able to approach the sniper from behind.

I came to a stop a couple of yards short of the
sidewalk.  This was potentially the riskiest part of stalking the
man.  If he had anyone else watching his ass, they’d see me when I appeared
in the break in the hedge.  Hell, it was broad daylight. 

Taking my time, I listened some more, then slithered on my
belly to the edge of the concrete walkway.  A millimeter at a time, I
extended my head at ground level to get a view of the other side.  There
was a short, neatly landscaped area, then pavement.  The parking lot
extended to the road that ran past the hospital, and it was completely stark
and empty, other than the Tahoe.

Raising my eyes, I spent another five minutes patiently
scanning the rooflines that overlooked the parking lot.  Seeing nothing, I
rolled onto my back and slowly checked the hospital’s roof.  Finding it
empty, I took a breath and began a slow, careful crawl onto the sidewalk.

As I moved into the open, and became as visible as a
streaker in church, a spot on my back began twitching and itching.  Even
though I’d looked carefully, I still expected a bullet to come screaming in and
pin me to the ground.  But, fortunately for me, that didn’t happen.

The hedge was about two feet wide at this point, and when I
reached the far edge, I stopped.  Stretching my neck, I poked my head
around the corner for a quick look before jerking it back.  I wanted to
make sure the sniper was still in the same position, and also that he hadn’t
turned around and was waiting to blow a new asshole into my forehead as soon as
I crawled into view.

I caught a glimpse of him before I pulled back.  He was
still in the same position, but that was all I could tell with such a brief
look.  Believing I was still undetected, I moved forward until I could see
around the hedge, stopping when I had him in sight.

The sniper was slightly less than fifty yards away.  He
lay on his belly, tucked in between a large ocotillo and a patch of prickly
pear.  I was going to have to be careful that I didn’t wind up getting
skewered by either one of the cacti.  Ocotillo aren’t too bad. 
They’re covered with thorns that are similar to a rose bush.  Sure, it
would hurt like hell, but that’s about it.

But, a prickly pear can be a whole different
experience.  The thorns are thin, strong, needle sharp, and are usually
several inches long.  I’ve known people who have had one of those little
spikes go all the way in and become embedded in a bone.  That kind of pain
I can do without, not to mention the really nasty infection that typically
comes along with it.

Crawling around the edge, I began worming my way through the
sand.  The twitchy feeling on my back was getting worse and for not the
first time I wished it was dark.  But it wasn’t, and at least the daylight
would help me avoid coming face to face with a snake. 

I got a better look at the sniper as I slowly drew
closer.  He wasn’t a large man, probably no more than five foot six or
seven.  Thin, with a receding hairline and black rimmed glasses, he
actually looked more like an accountant.  And as I kept watching, he was
acting like one.  He certainly wasn’t behaving like a trained warrior.

It was a warm day, and he was frequently mopping sweat off
his forehead.  If he wasn’t doing that, he was scratching his neck. 
Or his arm.  Or his ass.  What the hell?  Did this guy have the
crabs, or was he just in serious need of a shower?

Shutting down thoughts that didn’t matter, I kept
coming.  Move five yards on my belly, then stop and listen and
watch.  Then move some more.

I was using my elbows to pull myself along, the rifle
gripped in my hands.  It would have been very easy to put a few rounds
into the guy and get on with my day.  In fact, I was sorely tempted to do
just that.  After all, that sure seemed to be what he had planned for
me.  But I wanted to know what he was doing.

Finally, I was within ten yards of his feet.  He wore
boots, but it was obvious from the soles that they weren’t military
issue.  Most likely they’d come from a sporting goods store.  So had
his camouflage clothing.  And his rifle.

He was still scratching like hell.  In fact, he was
almost constantly reaching for some part of his anatomy.  Then he slapped
the back of his hand and looked down at the sand he was lying on.  He
cursed loud enough for me to hear and began to squirm backward.  As he
moved, I saw the problem.  The dumb son of a bitch had stretched out right
beside an anthill.

He kept moving, pulling his rifle with him and carefully
avoiding the two cacti.  OK.  Time to announce my presence.

“There’s a rifle pointed at the back of your head,” I said
in a low voice.

Someone experienced with having weapons pointed at them
would have frozen.  He didn’t.  Letting out a gasp of surprise, he
rolled onto his side to see who was behind him, managing to jam several of the
prickly pear needles into his leg in the process.

He gasped again, reaching for the spot where it hurt. 
There was a pistol holstered on that leg, and his hand was getting too close to
it for my comfort.  With a sigh, I pulled the trigger and fired a burst
into the ground, inches from his face.  Sand fountained, raining down on
his head, and he finally stopped moving.