Black Harvest (The PROJECT) (20 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

"Be a good crop, this year. Better than last," Bob said.

Winter wheat laid a fresh green carpet across the Nebraska prairie. Billy Elroy and his brother Bob stood on the edge of the fields. Bob had 2000 acres in wheat and corn, handed down by hard work through five generations. Billy had come to help with the spring corn planting. Disking, fertilizing, getting the machinery ready.

Billy was in awe of Bob's success. His brother had the gift for growing things. Billy couldn't grow weeds if he tried. He had tried. Everything he planted behind his house died. Finally he'd given it up.

"You going for the Ethanol thing with the corn?"

"Nah. Too damn much paperwork. My corn's for people. I got no interest in feeding cars." Bob glanced at the sun. "Getting close to dinner. Mae's got a big salad for you. She knows you like that rabbit food."

Billy grinned. "Hey, you throw enough stuff in it, it's good. I even brought the pepper." He pulled a glass jar from his pocket.

"Almost forgot about it. Here 'ya go." He tossed it over to his brother. Bob grabbed and missed. The bottle shattered on a rock. A fine cloud lifted into the air and drifted toward the field.

"Damn it, Billy." He reached down and picked up the pieces of broken glass. "You're lucky we got plenty. Come on, Mae's waiting."

The two brothers headed toward the house.

A gentle breeze blew the contents of the broken jar into the corner of the wheat field.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

The Texas night was
blacker
than the inside of the Titanic. Behind them, the flat dirt and rock of the panhandle vanished in darkness. The compound looked like an alien installation on the surface of the moon, all reflections and angles and geometric shapes of metal in the glare of the lights.

The night was cool. Nick sweated inside the black gear they all wore. Aside from their weapons, Nick and Korov carried backpacks loaded with the explosives and detonators. Everyone wore red goggles against the glare from the lights.

Their SUVs were invisible, parked beyond the wall of light. Lamont had the Barrett laid across one of the hoods, a scoped M4A beside it. He had a wide view of the compound interior. There was a clear field of fire down the security road between the buildings. He could move right as needed to cover the eastern half of the compound. For the .50 caliber Barrett and scope, distance was no problem. He had plenty of ammo. He'd be fine, as long as he didn't have to pick up the thirty pound rifle and run with it. Nick knew Lamont would do it if he had to, weak arm or not.

They waited for the substation to blow. Nick glanced at Korov, lying next to him. He seemed relaxed. Nick had to give the guy credit, he was a pro. He knew what he was doing. You could tell. They'd fallen into an uneasy acceptance of each other, masked by needle jabs of humor. Grudgingly, Nick was beginning to like the guy. Too bad he was a Russian.

"One minute." He spoke softly into his headset. They waited.

Beyond the compound, a muffled boom. The floodlights died. They pulled off the red lenses.

"Go."

They got to their feet and ran to the fence. Ronnie took out the plasma cutter. It was  about the size of an electric drill, a masterpiece of military technology. It had a self-contained power supply good for eight minutes. Ronnie pulled welding goggles over his eyes. He fired the torch.

Plasma cutters used a high voltage circuit to create a small, stable pocket of plasma gas. The main plasma cutting arc ignited when brought into contact with metal. The cutting arc put out 25,000 degrees. It was bright, a necessary risk. They could be spotted, but Nick figured everyone would be busy looking at the fireworks out on the highway.

In less than a minute and a half, Ronnie had cut a door sized opening in the wire. He dropped the cutter and the goggles. They entered the compound and ran for Building Four. They reached the entrance, a recessed doorway halfway down the side. There was a camera over the door. Ronnie sprayed the lens with black.

Any patrol coming would appear to the north or south along the road.

"Selena, cover north. Ronnie, you take south." She ran across to the next building and ducked into the doorway, reached up and sprayed the camera.

Korov placed a charge against the door lock on Building Four. It went off with a dull thump. They pushed the door open, stepped inside and closed it. They turned on lights mounted on the sides of their helmets.

They were in a long corridor with a door at the end. A door in the wall led into a room with an airlock. From outside came the rumble of diesel engines starting up. A row of lights came on in the hallway.

Korov and Carter ran to the end of the hall and opened the door. They entered a modern laboratory. Tables, microscopes, centrifuges. Things Nick couldn't indentify. A row of refrigerators on one wall. Korov opened them. The last one contained glass jars filled with the virus. Korov began placing charges. Nick went to the back wall. He tried the handle on the freezer door.

Locked.

He shaped charges around the lock and hinges, set detonators and moved away.

Korov never glanced up when it blew. The door fell onto the floor. Cold air rushed into the room. Sealed boxes filled the freezer, each about two feet long and a foot high. Nick pulled off his pack and began.

The heat from the charges would melt the steel walls of the freezer and its contents along with the supporting beams of the roof. The thermite might explode as it mixed with vapor from the freezer. Adam had warned about explosions, but there wasn't anything Nick could do about it. If it did blow, the heat ought to take care of it. He hoped.

"Done." Korov came over. He helped Nick finish the sequence.

Nick activated the timers. "Ten minutes. Time to boogie."

"Boogie?"

"Get out of here."

"Nick." Selena's voice sounded in his headset. "Patrol. Coming from the north."

"Don't engage unless they spot you."

"Roger."

"I think," Korov said, "that now it gets interesting."

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Selena watched a black Suburban drive between the buildings, shining a spotlight into the shadows. The light swept back and forth across the road. She raised her MP-5, risked a quick look through the night scope and focused on the windshield in front of the driver. He had a microphone to his mouth. Her heart began pounding.

Steady your breathing. Relax. Slow your heart rate, take up the slack. Take your time. Don't fire until you have to.

Easy, standing on a firing range. Not so easy when the adrenals began pumping. She ducked back into the doorway. Across the way, Ronnie waited. Nick and Korov emerged behind him. The spotlight found them. She leaned out of the doorway and put eight rounds into the windshield of the SUV. The stuttering ripple of shots broke the silence.

The light went out. The windshield shattered. The Suburban skewed left and rammed into the side of a building. The passenger door opened and a man rolled out into the street. He had an M-16. He brought it up and fired, the bullets slamming into the wall above her head. The MP-5 bucked against her shoulder and Selena shot him, three rounds, center of the body.

A loud, shrieking alarm began. The sound came from everywhere, echoing down the space between the buildings, bouncing from the walls, filling the night air.

Nick spoke into his microphone. "That tears it. Back to the vehicles."

"Nick." Lamont's voice on the headset. "They're piling out of the barracks. One  Humvee pulling out already, man on the gun. They're scrambling. Get your ass out of there."

"Take out the generators and the propane tanks."

"Roger that."

The generators were big, but they were essentially diesel engines. A few rounds through the radiators and the block would put them out of action. The unmistakable sound of the .50 boomed loud in the Texas night. They ran for the fence. The lights flickered. The Barrett had a ten round magazine. Nick heard two more fast shots. Half the lights died.

They reached the last row of buildings before the fence. A Humvee wheeled around the corner at the far end and turned onto the road between the buildings. The gunner up top cut loose with the belt fed machine gun. The M240 spit out 7.62mm rounds, lots of them. Selena and Ronnie went right, Nick and Korov left, behind the buildings on either side of the road. They heard the whine of differentials as the vehicle powered nearer. Once it emerged from between the buildings and passed the corner, someone would get killed.

"Cover me," Korov said.

Nick didn't argue. He leaned around the corner and began firing at the gunner. "'Selena, Ronnie, cover," he yelled.

The MP-5s put out a lot of firepower. Rounds bounced from the armored vehicle, starred the windshield. The gunner ducked down, firing blind at them. Korov sprinted down the side of the building. The Humvee passed him. He leapt up onto the side as it went by and shot the gunner. He dropped a grenade through the open hatch and jumped off. The explosion blew the doors open. It slowed and stopped. Flames rose from the wreckage.

The Barrett boomed in the night. The compound went dark. It boomed again. A propane tank exploded, painting everything with yellow orange light. They ran to the end of the building. The fence was fifty yards away over open ground.

Headlights bounced toward them.

"Lamont, what do you see?"

"Looks like six, no, seven trucks. The trucks are splitting up. They're going to flank you. One Humvee headed right for you. They had some kind of trouble with the other. About four hundred yards."

"Get the RPG. Take out that bastard."

"Roger that."

"We can't outrun those trucks." Ronnie watched the headlights drawing closer.

"We have cover here," Korov said. "More or less."

"Right. Korov, you and Selena take that end. Selena, do what Korov says. Ronnie and me here. Let Lamont worry about the Humvee. We focus on the trucks. We stop them, they have to come after us on foot. Go."

Korov and Selena ran for the other side of the building. They reached the end.

"I will go high. You stay low."

Do what he says.

She crouched and peered around the corner. Above her, Korov took his stance. Three trucks were barreling toward them. They'd left the road and fanned out across the flat dirt.

"Now."

They began firing.

Selena targeted the truck to the far right. A steady stream of empty casings spewed from her gun. She watched the headlights shatter. The front tires blew out. The truck swerved and stopped. She could hear doors open, men cursing. She turned her attention to the second truck. Korov had hit the third. Flames shot up as she watched.

Somewhere in her mind Selena heard Nick and Ronnie firing at the other end of the building. She ejected an empty magazine, slammed in another, charged the weapon, began shooting. The MP5 felt like it was part of her, a live thing in her hands. Above her, Korov kept up a steady stream of fire. The air smelled of gunpowder and brass.

The lights went out on the remaining truck. It stopped.

The charges in Building Four ignited in a white hot flare of heat and light. It felt like someone had sucked all the sound away, then thrown a match into a giant pool of gasoline. There was a loud
wumpf
that shook the ground. She felt a rush of heated air. An enormous fireball of red and orange bloomed in the night. It rose and lit the compound with a hellish glare. In the sudden light she saw men running toward her. Her MP-5 was hot in her hands. She inserted another magazine. Men died in front of her.

She saw the second Humvee coming. Bullets hammered the side of the building over her head.

Korov touched her shoulder. "We fall back. To the others."

They ran toward the others. The Humvee turned the corner. Selena saw the machine gun turning toward her, bright muzzle flashes, each a messenger of death. Something dark moved through the air and the vehicle exploded. Lamont had come through with the RPG. A man wrapped in flames stumbled out of the wreck and fell screaming onto the road. Korov shot him.