Recovery: V Plague Book 8 (10 page)

They pushed
on throughout the afternoon, Rachel’s stomach growling with hunger and her
mouth dry with thirst.  The wind picked up as the day wore on, now strong
enough to start snapping branches out of the tops of the trees.  The first time
one of them crashed to the ground a few yards to their right, Rachel had
whipped up the flare gun and nearly pulled the trigger.

She’d
exchanged a look with Bill who was also aiming in the same direction then both
of them looked up.  The trees swayed against the darkening sky and Rachel had
to look back down at the ground when the movement brought on vertigo.  But
before she lowered her gaze she’d seen that the clouds with the black, swollen
bottoms were now directly overhead.

“It’s going
to start snowing soon,” she said.

“Yes, it
is.”  Bill said, stepping over a thick, dead branch and continuing on.

An hour
later they passed out of the trees as they approached a narrow crest.  There
was no soil here, just bare rock.  Moving cautiously they crept up to the top
and looked over into a valley.  A lake filled the lowest part of the valley
floor, surrounded by more thick forest.

“Told you
so,” Bill said.

It took all
of Rachel’s self control to keep her mouth shut.  The man was really starting
to grate on her nerves and if she didn’t need him she wouldn’t be putting up
with his juvenile attitude.  But she did need him if she wanted to survive. 
Not only to survive the moment, lost in the wilderness, but she needed the
distress beacon sewn into his clothing.  So, to keep harmony, she shut her
mouth and let him have his little victory.

Standing on
the crest they were fully exposed to the weather.  The temperature had dropped as
the wind picked up, cutting through their clothing like frozen razor blades. 
Rachel wrapped her arms around her torso, trying to hold in as much body heat
as possible.  As they moved over the crest and started descending into the new
valley the first snowflakes began to fall.

They were
large and heavy with moisture.  There were only a few but before they moved
back into the forest Rachel looked at the horizon.  Other than the two peaks
that were closest to them the rest of the mountaintops were completely hidden
behind a wall of white.  It was snowing like hell only a few miles to the
north.

“We need to
hurry,” she said to Bill, pointing to the north.

He looked up
as he was stepping over an area of loose shale and missed his step.  His foot
slid out from under him and with a cry he tumbled down the mountainside. 
Rachel stood frozen watching him skid, picking up speed until he slammed into
the trunk of a massive pine tree.

“Oh shit,”
she said to herself and began making her way down the slope as fast as she
dared.

It took her
five minutes to cover the distance Bill had fallen in less than ten seconds. 
When she reached him he was moaning, holding his leg. 

“How bad are
you hurt?”  Rachel asked as she slipped to a stop next to him.

“My leg,” he
said, his voice tight with pain.

“Move your
hands and let me look,” Rachel said, gently pushing them out of her way.

Nothing was
immediately apparent with the flight suit covering the limb he’d been holding and
Rachel didn’t want to slice it open to get a better look.  It was cold, and
only going to get colder, and they both needed every ounce of insulation they
had.  Carefully she placed her hands on his leg, immediately feeling the
displacement of his shinbone.

“Your tibia
is broken,” she said.

Bill grunted
in pain when she pressed on the side and back of his leg. 

“I can’t
tell if your fibula is broken.  Not without an X-ray.”  She said, reaching out
and pulling his survival pouch off his shoulder.

“How bad is
it?”  He asked as she pulled out the first aid kit.

“Bad
enough.  You aren’t walking on it,” she said.

Rachel
opened the first aid kit and inventoried its contents.  It was military issue,
so was well stocked.  Taking out what she needed she spread it on the ground.

“I need to
set the bone and it’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch.  Want some
morphine?”  She asked, holding a spring loaded syrette up for him to see.

“You know
what you’re doing?”  He gasped out the question.

“I’m a
doctor.  That’s why you were taking me to Seattle.”  Rachel had grown tired of
explaining she was only a fourth year med student when people needed help.  It
was easier to just say she was a doctor.  That one magic word elicited
immediate trust and shut down all arguments.  When she was their only option
she didn’t feel she was doing anything wrong by exaggerating her qualifications.

“OK.  I’ll
take the morphine,” Bill said.

Rachel
jammed the needle into his thigh, triggering the syrette to push a dose of painkiller
into his body.  Almost instantly he relaxed, laying his head back on a carpet
of pine needles.  Putting the syrette away Rachel ran her hands over his leg
again, pressing harder this time as she determined how the bone was broken.  A
couple of minutes later she was ready.

Grasping his
ankle, she gave a sudden jerk and twisted slightly.  Bill grunted, but didn’t
react in any other way.  Checking her work, Rachel was satisfied that she had
done as good as possible without modern medical imaging equipment to let her
see the break and the results of her effort to realign the bone. 

Casting
around she found two strong branches and dragged them over next to Bill. 
Taking his survival knife from the sheath on his vest she trimmed them smooth,
creating two straight splints.  Placing one on either side of his leg she
pulled part of his parachute out of the pack on his back.

He’d been
right.  She’d found a use for the nylon canopy and ropes.  Working with the
knife she cut off what she needed.  First she used the fabric to wrap the
makeshift splints to his leg, continuing to wrap until it was a thick bundle. 
Then she threaded a rope under and began tightly tying it off until the limb
was bound from ankle to knee.

Work
completed, she checked his breathing and the pulse in his ankle.  He was
unconscious but the vitals that she was able to monitor were strong.  The
morphine would wear off in a few hours and he’d wake up in a lot of pain.  And
she didn’t know how the hell he was going to be able to walk in this terrain. 
It was hard enough with two good legs.

While Rachel
had worked it had continued to snow.  It wasn’t falling fast, but at a steady
pace and the ground was almost completely covered in white.  Looking up at the
crest Rachel’s blood ran colder than the snow when she saw a massive wolf
standing there, staring down at them.  Much of its fur was burned, in some
places raw skin showing through its coat.  It was the same one she’d shot with
the flare gun the previous night.

There wasn’t
a big selection of police vehicles in the rear lot.  I had succeeded in finding
keys for every one and began opening candidates to inspect them.  I immediately
dismissed two prisoner transport vans, moving on to a Chevy Tahoe.  It was
several years old and had a lot of miles on it.  Over 200,000.  I was sure it
had been well maintained but wanted something that had better odds of being
reliable.

Resigning
myself to the row of Dodge Chargers I went to the one parked in the slot with a
small sign that reserved the space for the station commander.  I suspected it
would have the least miles on the clock and hadn’t been abused by daily patrols
of hundreds of miles of open road.

The car was
almost new with only a few thousand miles recorded on the odometer.  It even
smelled new and clean inside, probably never having done anything other than
transport the boss from home to work then back again.  It was set up like
police cars everywhere with a heavy-duty push bar on the front.  A badge on the
dash labeled it as “Police Special”.  It sat low to the ground with fat, speed
rated tires and when I started the engine it settled into the throaty, rumbling
idle of a large displacement V8.

“Find your
toy?”  Katie asked with a sarcastic grin.

I revved the
engine a couple of times, comforted by the sound of raw American muscle. 

“And it’s
got a Hemi,” I grinned.

Katie shook
her head and turned away.  Shutting the car off I popped the trunk and loaded
in the ammo and weapons I’d taken from the armory along with the pump and hoses
I’d need when it was time to refuel.  Ready to go, I turned to Colonel
Crawford.

“Scott
should be here within an hour,” I said.  “Any more thoughts about what you’re
going to do with the jail bird?”

“Haven’t
decided yet.  Like I said, the Captain and I are going to try and find his
arrest report and see if he’s telling the truth.  Honestly, the more I think
about it the more it’s bugging me that he hasn’t turned.” 

“Russian
agent?  Sent in ahead of time?”  I mused.  If that were the case he would have
been vaccinated before the attacks, which would explain why he was still alive
and normal.

“In BFE
Oklahoma?  That’s a hell of a stretch,” Crawford said, shaking his head. 
“We’ll figure it out.  Maybe once Scott gets here I’ll use the FSOC and have a
conversation with Dr. Kanger in Seattle.  Get his opinion about whether of not
he might really be immune.”

We spent
another minute saying our goodbyes, the Colonel reassuring me they’d be
following as soon as the Bradley arrived.  I opened the Charger’s back door and
Dog jumped in.  Katie was already in the passenger seat fiddling with the
navigation system built into the dash, trying to input the route Petty Officer
Simmons had sent.  Martinez wrapped her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek,
then walked around the car and leaned in to hug Katie.

Climbing
behind the wheel I started the engine and let it idle as I got the seat,
mirrors and steering column adjusted to my liking.  Fastening the seat belt I
had to take a second to pet Dog when he shoved my arm with his nose.  I guess
the station commander didn’t ever transport prisoners, as there wasn’t a
barrier between the front and rear seats.  That was fine with Dog.  He liked to
stick his head into the front when I drove.

“Nav doesn’t
work,” Katie said, stabbing at the touchscreen.

“The EMP.  It’s
what caused the Osprey to crash and probably took out all the GPS satellites. 
Nav won’t work without them.”

“That’s just
marvelous,” Katie said, exiting the mapping app and leaning back in her seat to
stare at the small sat phone screen.  “Wait a minute.  How’s the Bradley
navigating?”

“It must be
using the NSA satellite,” I said after a moment of thinking about it.  “Don’t
know how that’s working with only one of them up there, but the GPS system over
North America is out of commission.  I’ve been away from it for a while but I
do remember that the military was looking at alternatives to the network of GPS
satellites.  Maybe they got something else I don’t know about.”

Katie nodded
and kept looking at the phone.  I backed out of the spot and idled around the
building, following Martinez and the Colonel who would open the gate to let us
out.  Reaching the front parking lot they walked to within a few yards of the
chain link and Crawford raised his rifle and put down the small group of males
who were banging against the fence.

When the
last one fell Martinez pulled the gate open, stepped through and dragged a
couple of bodies out of the way so I didn’t have to drive over them.  Not that
rolling over a corpse should cause any damage to the Dodge or its tires, but
why take the chance when you don’t have to.

“Which
way?”  I asked, braking as we reached the highway.

“Left,”
Katie said without hesitation.  “West for 104 miles until we pick up US highway
183, then we turn north.”

Turning the
wheel I hit the gas and the cruiser shot out of the driveway with a snarl of
exhaust.  Accelerating, we blasted through the small town at 80 miles an hour. 
It was really a tiny place, not much more than a wide spot in the road, and
when we cleared the far edge I tromped on the gas pedal and couldn’t stop
myself from grinning as the speedometer swept past 100 and kept going. 

I settled in
on 120 and had to glance at the knobs and buttons several times to figure out
how to set the cruise control.  Speed locked in, I glanced over at Katie who
was studiously avoiding looking at the speedometer.  She’s never been a calm
passenger and I knew this was going to be a rough trip for her, but we needed
speed.

The car
handled like a dream, settling down on its suspension and hugging the two-lane
ribbon of asphalt.  It was no less than I expected from a vehicle purposely
modified for police use and was why I had chosen the law enforcement complex to
find a car rather than stopping off at a dealership and taking something new
off the lot.

Katie began
to relax and looked around the interior, opening the glove compartment then the
small storage area in the armrest between the two front seats.

“Need a pair
of shades?”  She asked, holding up a nice pair of Oakley wrap-around
sunglasses.

Smiling, I
took them from her and slipped them on.

“How do I
look?”  I asked, trying to see myself in the rearview mirror.

“Just
devastating, honey.”  She said, reaching across and rubbing my smooth head.

We drove for
half an hour, covering sixty miles.  The road was flat and smooth and I decided
to push our speed higher, then remembered I was supposed to call my eye in the
sky.

“Is there
Bluetooth in that sat phone?”

Katie plucked
it out of a cup holder, the charging cord stretching out from the power port on
the dash.  She turned the screen on and started looking through menus.

“Yes, there
is.”  She said after a few moments.  “Want me to set it up with the car so it’s
hands free?”

I nodded and
she set to work.

“Who are we
calling?”  She asked once the pairing was complete.

“Speed dial
2,” I said.  “A Navy Petty Officer in Hawaii that has access into a functioning
satellite.”

Katie pushed
and held the button, a moment later the sound of a phone ringing blaring out of
the car’s speakers.

“Hello,
sir.”  Petty Officer Simmons answered before the second ring ended.

“Hello,
Petty Officer.”  I said.  “I’m on the road in a black and white state police
interceptor.  West bound on…” I paused, not sure what highway number I was on.

“I’ve got
you, sir.  You’re the only thing moving for two hundred miles other than a
Bradley.  Stand by a moment.”

There was
close to a minute of typing and mouse clicking then she came back on the line.

“I have eyes
on you, sir, and I’m scanning ahead.  You’re really moving.  I’m tracking you
at one twenty-three.”

I glanced
down at the speedometer, which was solidly on 120.  I’d trust the multi-billion
dollar NSA satellite over the instrument built into the Dodge.

“How’s the
road ahead?”  I asked.

“You’re
clear all the way to US 183,” she said.  “There’s a couple of cars crashed as
you get to the intersection, blocking most of the road, but other than that it looks
to be clear sailing.”

“Thank you,”
I said.  “What are things like on the ground in Idaho?”

“It just
started snowing and there’s heavy overcast, so I don’t have them on visual any
longer.  I’m able to track them on thermal.”  I didn’t like the tone in her
voice.

“What are
you not telling me?”  I asked.

She was
quiet for a long moment before continuing.  “I’m getting other signatures on
thermal.  Stalking them, I think.”

“Russians?” 
I asked, exchanging glances with Katie.

“No.  They’re
smaller.  I don’t think they’re human,” she said.

“You mean
infected?  Spit it out, Petty Officer.”

“I think
there’s a pack of wolves on their trail, sir,” she said in a rush.  “But, I
can’t get a look.  All I have is thermal and it’s not giving me a great image.”

I was
stunned into silence.  Wolves?  I didn’t think there were any left in North
America.  But then I’ve been wrong before.

“One more
thing, sir.  That car you’re in will get you there in a hurry but they’re a
long way back in the wilderness.  You’re going to have to switch to a Jeep or
something like that when you get there.  And I’m guessing you don’t have cold
weather gear.”

“You would
be correct on the gear,” I said.

“OK.  The
last city of any size you go through will be Twin Falls, Idaho.  I’m going to
start looking there for a suitable vehicle and an outfitter that will have the
gear you’re going to need.  If I can’t find anything I’ll work my way back
along your route until I find something.”

“You’re a
Godsend, Petty Officer,” I said.  “Do you mind if I call you be your given
name?”

“Not at all,
sir.  It’s Jessica,” she said, sounding surprised and pleased at my request.

“Thank you,
Jessica.  I’m John.  Save all the “sirs” for a more official setting.”

“Yes, sir. 
I mean John,” she said and I could hear the smile in her voice. 

“You’ve got
the number.  Call me if anything changes.”  I broke the connection with a small
button on the car’s steering wheel and pressed on the accelerator.

The engine
responded and the speedometer needle climbed steadily until it stopped on 140. 
There was more room in the throttle but the car wouldn’t go any faster.  The
tachometer was stalled a few hundred RPM below the red line and I suspected the
computer was pre-programed to limit the engine before it could be revved high
enough to cause damage.

I had driven
this fast before but it had been a long time.  The world outside whipped by,
making it seem as if we were flying very low.  Someone who really knew what
they were doing had performed whatever modifications had been made to the
suspension.  The car was stable and despite the break-neck speed I felt I had
good control.  Then I reminded myself that at this extreme speed even a tiny
error on my part could end not only our rescue attempt but also our lives. 

“We’re about
nine and a half hours to Twin Falls,” Katie said after scribbling some numbers
on a traffic ticket pad and doing some math.  “At this speed.  Can you keep it
up?”

“Do we have
a choice?”  I asked without taking my eyes off the road.