Black Flagged Redux (36 page)

Several armed civilians descended the stairs and stacked several weapons and new equipment along an empty wall on the landing. They continued down the stairs amidst the yelling and chaos of a general evacuation. Daniel spotted Schafer on the stairs, pushing his way through a mass of armed men flowing to the lower levels of the building. The man directed them toward the weapons and harness gear.

"Take your pick. Just make sure to swap out your rifle magazines. None of these will fire 7.62mm. Hurry up. I want to clear out of this building in a few minutes. The helicopters won't fire on the buildings before the ground troops arrive, unless they're fired upon first."

"We saw them take a building down about a mile from here. Earlier in the day," Farrington said.

"That was my fault. I had sent a squad to that neighborhood with the hopes of drawing their attention away from our headquarters move. The squad took it upon themselves to shoot up a foot patrol and got stuck in the building. We saw the building collapse from the rockets. Our squad never returned," the man said.

"They were all killed," Farrington said, grabbing a fully rigged AKS-74u.

"Along with everyone in the building. The government has switched from evacuation to extermination mode. Not that there was ever really a difference," the man said.

"What do you mean? Do you have any suppressors for these weapons, or long-range night scopes?" Daniel said, lifting a thick-barreled AK-74 from the stockpile.

A young man standing near the stairs answered. "No suppressors. We didn't have anything like that in our armory. We were lucky to have advanced sights for the weapons. I can get you a scope. I'm Sergeant Malyshev. One of the few regulars assigned to the battalion."

He walked over and extended his hand to Farrington, who shook it, followed by Daniel. After shaking the man's hand, Daniel became concerned. In the scattered light of several flashlights, he could see that the man's face was drained of color and his eyes were bloodshot. He coughed softly into the crook of his elbow.

"Sergeant Malyshev has been a blessing to the battalion. One of the few regulars with combat experience to ever be assigned to our unit…and the only regular to stay behind. He saw extensive combat in Chechnya. I'm assigning him to your group."

"We don't need any additional manpower," Daniel said.

"Trust me, you'll be glad to have this soldier backing you up. He knows the streets…and he can fight like the devil. You're taking him with you when you leave. He's your live sample."

It all made sense to Daniel now.

"How far along are you?" Daniel said, flashing his light in Malyshev's face.

"I'm still a day or so away from having real problems. Right now I just have flu symptoms. That's how it starts," he said.

"How did he get infected?" Sergei said.

"Many of the men refilled their canteens when we took to the city. Nobody at the base was initially infected. We're not on city water. Some got sick, some didn't. Maybe some houses had already flushed out all of the bad water and others hadn't. Bad luck? Who the fuck knows? I'm Maxim, by the way. Captain Maxim Sabitov. I commanded the 332nd Reserve Military Police Battalion…still do I guess.

"On Saturday, April 7th, most of the battalion remained overnight for our monthly drill. It’s mostly administrative work this time of the year, so we let a number of the men return to their families off base on Saturday night. They all got sick over the course of the next week. The men who stayed on base that night were fine."

"How many men did you have under your command?" Farrington said.

"Three hundred and fifty-six. Forty-three went home that night. Forty of them got sick. About thirty complied with Russian Army Command's order to abandon the base, leaving me with roughly two hundred and eighty men."

"Abandon the base?" Daniel said.

"Of course. The situation in Monchegorsk had deteriorated significantly by then, and Moscow had three hundred armed soldiers assigned to the base. Most with families living in Monchegorsk. They didn't want us sticking around town to cause trouble, so they ordered us north. Only the unmarried soldiers obeyed. We made sure to secure the armory from the very outset. Most of us knew what was at stake here."

His radio chirped again and he put his hand on Daniel's shoulder. The deep, rhythmic thud of helicopter rotors intensified and passed, replaced by the steep whine of the twin turboshaft engines. The entire building vibrated as the helicopter passed overhead.

"We need to get moving. I don't want to be responsible for bringing another building down on their heads," Maxim said, pulling Daniel toward the stairs.

"How many civilians are still around?" Farrington said.

"Hard to say. A few thousand maybe. Scattered everywhere. The Russians have started block by block sweeps to the northeast."

"That's a lot of people. Why doesn't the government just evacuate them?"

"Because nobody believes the government is actually evacuating them. From the very beginning, rumors have circulated that they just truck everyone over to the nickel pits and shoot them. Based on what I've seen in the city, I wouldn't be surprised. The other problem is that half of the people I've seen are violently insane and unpredictable. They can't effectively restrain the sick ones. You'll see what I mean. It's fucking crazy out there. Especially at night."

**

Lieutenant Colonel Grigory Zadornov stood in a circle with his battalion's leadership. He had three infantry company commanders and an assortment of infantry and armor platoon commanders. The sound of throttling diesel engines competed with the chatter going back and forth among the men.

"Cut the chatter," he barked, and they immediately quieted.

"I've just received orders to move the battalion four miles through the city to an area here. Helicopter and Spetznaz surveillance reports indicate a heavy concentration of armed civilians among the buildings," he said, pointing at a map held up to his chest.

"Too many weapons in one place to be another disorganized gaggle. We know the insurgents moved their headquarters earlier today, so we're going to hit this area in force, with helicopter support. Nighttime rules of engagement are in place. Shoot anything that moves. Conserve ammunition during the transit and make sure to deploy your troops as soon as you make contact. We lost two vehicles last night to some kind of bullshit improvised explosives that were placed on the vehicles by hand. Nobody should be getting close enough to touch one of our vehicles. Infantry commanders and vehicle commanders need to work together. I better not lose another vehicle to a Semtex sticky bomb. We move out in five minutes. All orders and rally points have been transmitted to your mobile battlefield feeds. Mark your maps and standby to depart."

He turned and stepped through an open side hatch into his vehicle, a command variant of the BTR-80 armored personnel carrier, easily identifiable by two large whip antennas protruding from the top rear corners of the troop compartment. The air inside was considerably warmer than the wind-whipped arctic air flowing down the street through his column. One of the infantry captains had remained behind to chat.

"What if we have more civilians trying to surrender? The orders last night weren't clear with the men," he said.

"No prisoners. Anyone on the streets is to be shot. It sounds harsh, but the water supply to the city has been poisoned. At this point, my commander has determined that anyone remaining in the city is likely to be infected and will eventually transform into one of the abominations we've been dealing with all over the city. Our government is fighting desperately to keep this outbreak from spreading to other cities. Unfortunately, we're on the shit end of that fight. Get your company ready for heavy contact. I expect this to be a long night," Colonel Zadornov said.

Once the captain left the vehicle's rear opening, he turned back to his command center to review the maps and any new orders that might have come through on his mobile battlefield terminal. The command center barely qualified as anything more than four square feet of table space on the right side of the BTR. With the mobile battlefield terminal (MBT) affixed to the hull above and to the left of the table, alongside a row of radio receivers, the setup gave him enough room to use half of a map. He could simultaneously scour the MBT for updates from his various subordinates, and if he didn't like what he was seeing or hearing, he had three radios at his disposal to remedy the situation.

A harness seat had been bolted to the deck at one end of the table, allowing him to stay at the command center, while the BTR scrambled from one location to the next. Cold weather clothing, issued harness gear, weapons and ammunition were crammed into every other conceivable space in the back and would spill everywhere once they started moving.

His operations officer would stuff himself somewhere among the four soldiers riding in back, who had been assigned to defend the vehicle. He would fight for space around the command center to advise Zadornov. Even under the best circumstances, it was organized chaos, and whenever possible, Zadornov would ride in the turret. Especially when they came under fire. The rear compartment shrank with the sounds of small arms fire knocking against the hull, and he hated the thought of helplessly waiting for a rocket propelled grenade to tear through the thin armor.

He lifted one of the radio handhelds from its receiver and transmitted an order to the battalion.

"This is Zovra Command. Three minute warning for the scout elements. Stick to your assigned routes. No variations. Over," he said and listened for all of the individual units' acknowledgments.

He wondered what the young captain had really thought about the battalion's orders. It didn't take a university degree in science to realize that command's supposed fear of an outbreak was utter nonsense. If they were dealing with a contagious epidemic, the troops would have been issued biological suits…at least masks. They had arrived with all of that gear, but his commander had been told not to issue it. Rumors about the water supply had spread through the battalion like wildfire, reinforced by strict, repeated orders not to drink from indigenous water sources.

For Zadornov, it didn't really matter. Something had infected the population and turned them into stark raving lunatics. He'd seen every form of depraved behavior, from gang raping in the middle of the streets, to children jumping from the rooftops. Everyone in the city was psychotic on some level. It was impossible to predict when a seemingly normal person might pick up a rock and try to bash your head in.

He didn't like the order to shoot on sight, but after spending five nights patrolling the city, he didn't see any other choice. He just hoped that when this was over, the government didn't decide to drag his entire battalion over to the nickel pits. He didn't want to know what the Internal Ministry Troops were doing in the industrial sector of town to the northwest.

His seat rumbled as the driver revved the engine in anticipation of the assault. All around him, vehicles sprang to life and started to move forward. His operations officer, a young infantry captain, hopped through the side hatch and issued an order to the rest of their crew. Within a minute, the troop compartment of the BTR was crowded with soldiers and all hatches were sealed. The BTR lurched forward, knocking everyone around the metal compartment and spilling gear everywhere. Zadornov reminded himself to find another driver for tomorrow.

**

Daniel Petrovich stepped out into the darkness and scanned the neighborhood. The crescent moon provided enough ambient light to outline the large hulks of more than a dozen apartment buildings, all tightly stuffed into an area Sabitov had called Katayev Prospekt.

They had met for a few minutes in the basement to discuss Sabitov's plan, which involved moving the bulk of his fighters to this development. From there, his fighters would put up a brief fight and disperse. Their goal was to occupy all of the Russian Army's attention, while Daniel's group tried to pull off the impossible.

"You ready for this? Walk in the park for Special Forces, right?" Sabitov said and slapped him on the back.

The rest of the team joined him and listened silently. They could hear rumbling in the distance and the distinct thud of helicopter rotors.

"Armor is moving in this direction, but the helicopters will track my people. Everything will be shifted to the Katayev Prospekt. I expect the entire Russian force to be concentrated on that area. Fifteen apartment buildings. Much larger than the one we left," he said.

"The helicopters don't shoot people on the streets?" Sergei asked.

"Not yet, but I suggest we move as discreetly as possible," Sabitov said.

"Lead the way," Petrovich said.

The group of nine men set off in a northeasterly direction, led by Major Sabitov and Sergeant Malyshev, who both carried loaded RPG launchers. Three additional soldiers had been added to the group to help Sabitov create a diversion. The soldiers were dressed in civilian clothes and carried additional rockets. Like Sabitov's sergeant, they didn't sound very healthy. As long as they could do their jobs, Daniel wasn't concerned.

Daniel's team, which included Malyshev, would assault the vehicles. Daniel had made it clear that if the command BTR didn't take the bait, they would depart Monchegorsk immediately. Sabitov was convinced that the information found in the battalion commander's vehicle would be worth the risk. Daniel traded looks with Farrington as they sprinted off into the darkness. They were both thinking the same thing, but Daniel had no intention of double-crossing Sabitov. The man had stayed behind against overwhelming odds to protect his family, which was something Daniel could relate to.

They weaved their way through a maze of smaller buildings and snow-covered yards, occasionally ducking behind walls or kicking in doors to hide from the Mi-28 Havoc that screamed overhead. The helicopter was loud enough to hear from a distance, and they had no shortage of places to hide. Soon enough, they'd come up on an open area leading to a small cluster of apartment buildings and would have to carefully time their transit. Gunfire picked up to their front, punctuated by the loud crack of RPGs exploding. Sabitov listened to his radio.