Indestructible: V Plague Book 7

Indestructible

 

 

V Plague Book 7

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DIRK PATTON

 

Text Copyright © 2015
by Dirk Patton

Copyright © 2015 by
Dirk Patton

 

All Rights Reserved

This book, or any portion thereof,
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express
written permission of the copyright holder or publisher, except for the use of
brief quotations in a critical book review.

Published by Voodoo Dog
Publishing, LLC

2824 N Power Road

Suite #113-256

Mesa, AZ 85215

 

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2015

ISBN-13:
978-1508565079

ISBN-10:
1508565074

 

This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses, brands, places, events and incidents are either
the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely
coincidental.

 

Author’s
Note

 

Thank you for purchasing Indestructible, Book 7 in the V
Plague series.  If you haven’t read the first six books you need to stop
reading now and pick them up, otherwise you will be lost as this book is
intended to continue the story in a serialized format.  I intentionally did nothing
to explain comments and events that reference book 1 through 6.  Regardless,
you have my heartfelt thanks for reading my work and I hope you’re enjoying the
adventure as much as I am.  As always, a good review on Amazon is greatly
appreciated and the best way to ensure more books are published.

 

 

Determination
that is incorruptible

From the other
side, a terror to behold

Annihilation will
be unavoidable

Every broken
enemy will know

That their
opponent had to be invincible

Take a last look
around while you're alive

I'm an
indestructible

Master of war

Indestructible
– Disturbed

 

 

 

 

 

1

 

Pain.  Pain and darkness.  And pressure.  I didn’t know
where the hell I was or how I’d gotten there.  Or what was on top of me. 
Crushing me.  It was hard to breathe.  Impossible to take more than a very
shallow breath of stale air.

And the smell.  The raw stink of urine and feces.  The
coppery odor of blood.  But whose blood?  For that matter, whose bladder and
bowels?  Then it came flooding back in a rush of vivid, brightly colored
memories, almost like watching a movie where the director is trying too hard to
be artistic and as a result fails to tell a cohesive story.

The fight in the casino.  Finally finding Katie.  Both her
and Martinez on the floor, bleeding.  Killing Roach.  Piling into an Osprey
that was taking us to Tinker where the two women could get proper medical
attention for their wounds.  The aircraft’s engines shutting down.  Cradling
Katie in my arms as we quickly lost altitude.  Meeting Rachel’s eyes and seeing
her acceptance of our fate a moment before we struck the ground.

That’s where the movie ended.  No closing credits.  No
little flashes of action to help wrap up the story.  Just a memory of an
incredible impact accompanied with the horrible sounds of the Osprey
disintegrating on impact, then nothing.  OK, more like a poorly ended movie or
TV series that leaves the fate of some poor bastard to whatever the audience
imagines by just cutting to black.

I’m not sure how long I lay there, conscious, but feeling
like I was in a bad daydream.  I might have lain there until thirst or hunger
spurred me to action, however long that would have taken, but I remembered that
Katie had been shot and needed my help.  That snapped me fully alert and I
tried to move my legs, banging against something with my boot. 

A hard tug on my foot.  Then a second tug, harder than the
first, and the snarl of an infected.  That got me going as about a gallon of
adrenaline dumped into my bloodstream.  I should have already been analyzing my
situation, trying to figure out what was lying on top of me and how I’d
extricate myself, but instead I’d been too caught up with worrying about how I
got there in the first place.

I was on my left side, something that I was reasonably sure
was my rifle trapped between the hard deck and me.  A large piece of the Osprey
was on top of me, crushing me.  Trying to turn my body to get my hands up and
push, I grunted when the infected pulled and twisted on my foot hard enough to
send a jolt of pain all the way into my hip. 

Pushing down rising panic, I managed to wrench my upper body
around, turning at the waist.  My hips and upper legs were pinned tightly and I
couldn’t move them at all.  Shoulders flat to the floor I placed my palms on
the piece of debris and pushed.  Nothing moved, other than the infected’s hand
working its way to the top of my boot.

Whatever was on top of me was large and smooth.  I suspected
it was part of the Osprey’s fuselage, and if it was a large enough chunk, I was
screwed.  Just because the damn things can fly, there’s really no part of an
aircraft that is light when it’s lying on top of you.  Taking a deep breath I
grunted and pushed with everything I had.

Nothing.  With a curse I blew out the breath I had held
while pushing and grimaced as I felt a hand clamp down on my leg just above the
top edge of my boot.  I needed to do something before the infected managed to squirm
his way any farther up.  Twisting my head around, I was able to see down the
length of my body.

It was hard to tell, but looked like my feet were sticking
out into open space.  The sun was shining brightly and I could clearly see the
male that was trying to make a mid-day snack out of me.  He was dressed in a
uniform and it took me a minute to remember that while we were in the casino
the Osprey had extracted a small Army unit that was surrounded by infected. 
They must have been out in the field and never received the vaccine that was
distributed at Tinker Air Force Base.

My fear for Katie and the rest of my friends ratcheted up
and I tried to kick as he resumed his attack, but my legs were pinned too
tightly and all I succeeded in doing was to bump the side of his head with my
boot.  He turned and bit down on the thick leather, fortunately unable to tear
through to my flesh.

My arms had a fair degree of freedom and I reached for the
object that had been digging into my side when I’d first awakened.  As I
suspected, it was the Sig Sauer rifle, still held securely to my body by its
sling.  I began working it around, trying to get it into a position that would
let me shoot.

It was slow going.  The sling hampered my ability to bring
the weapon to bear, and while I was working on it the male had shifted his
efforts at a snack to my boot’s upper.  Fear rising, I fumbled for the quick
release button on the sling, desperate to kill the damn thing before he moved
up to where there was only fabric to protect me from his teeth.

Fingers finally finding the button, I pressed it and ripped
the rifle free of the sling.  Twisting, I ignored the pain in my back and hips
as I forced my body into a position it wasn’t intended to achieve.  Maybe I
should have accepted Katie’s offers to attend Yoga classes with her.

The rifle came onto target, but I was forced to hold it with
one hand and guess whether or not the muzzle was aimed at the infected.  My arm
was bent at ninety degrees and I couldn’t use the scope.  If I was off, even a little,
I would blast a hole through my foot.

With a deep breath I lined up as best I could and pulled the
trigger.  And missed both the male and my foot.  The rifle was very quiet when
it fired, but it was still loud enough to draw the attention of my attacker. 
He stopped biting on my boot and swiveled his head towards the source of the
sound.

By now my arm was growing tired from maintaining such an
awkward pose and I couldn’t hold the weapon steady.  The infected hissed at me
and dragged himself higher until his head came up against the debris that was
pinning me down.  Turning my ankle as far away from him as I could, hoping to
keep my foot out of the line of fire, I pulled the trigger again.

The bullet took off most of the male’s ear, powder burns
stippling the skin of his face.  How the hell did I miss?  It was a four foot
shot at the most!  Silencing my frantically racing mind, I struggled to get the
weapon pointed where I wanted it, sweat pouring off of me as I forced my body
to still itself.

Pulling the trigger again, I exhaled and let my arm flop to
the deck when a neat hole appeared in the infected’s forehead.  I only rested
for a moment before looking back up to take a better survey of my situation. 
My head pounded, my lower back and hips were on fire and I was sick to my
stomach.  Blood from head wounds was pouring down my forehead and blocking most
of the vision from my right eye.  But none of that would matter if I kept lying
here until more infected showed up.

Forcing myself to not get distracted by worry over Katie or
Rachel or any of the others, I reached down and ran my hands over my body where
I was pinned.  The same piece of metal that was over my chest and head also
pressed tightly on my hips and thighs.  Feeling around, I stopped when my
fingers banged up against my holstered pistol.

The pistol was in a thigh holster, and the whole rig had
been pushed up my leg during the crash.  Whatever the piece of debris was, it
was resting directly onto the holster, wedging my body in place.  This was the
first good news.  Yes, I was pinned tightly, but if I could remove the pistol
and holster I’d gain enough space to wriggle my hips around and start working
to get out of the trap.  Of course that assumed that as soon as I got the
pistol off, the debris didn’t shift farther down and pin me again.

It took some doing, but I succeeded in getting a hand far
enough down my body to touch the upper buckle that held the holster rig. 
Several minutes later I suppressed a victory shout when it clicked open. 
Reminding myself ‘that was the easy one’, I rested for a moment, using my
collar to wipe sweat and blood out of my eyes.

Heart rate almost back to normal, I reached for the second
buckle, farther down my leg.  I couldn’t touch it.  No matter how I stretched
or twisted or contorted my body, I just couldn’t get my hand in place to
release the buckle.  This time I had to suppress a scream of frustration.

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