Recovery: V Plague Book 8 (27 page)

The night
had passed slowly for Rachel.  Colder than she’d ever been, she had stayed as
close to the fire as possible.  As the temperature continued to drop she
debated taking down the windbreak she’d created with the other parachute canopy
and using the material to further insulate herself.  But if a strong north wind
came up again it would be of more value where it was, so she left it alone.

Never having
felt so alone, she fell into despair.  She mourned the loss of the world.  The
end of her dream to become a Doctor.  The point where she would have chosen a
specialty hadn’t come for her but she had always thought about being a
pediatrician.  Not that she was particularly fond of children but she liked the
idea of caring for them and watching them grow.

She thought
about John, her heart breaking as she admitted to herself she would never see
him again.  How could he have survived the caverns he’d gone into to save
Katie?  And even if he had survived there was no way he could find her. 
Besides, what did he need with her now that his wife was back?  She was
unimportant.  Not needed.  But she still loved him.

Heart
aching, her eyes slowly closed and her head began to nod.  Her chin finally
came to rest on her chest and she slept, somehow her body remaining upright on
the log serving as her chair.  When the growl woke her, she jerked upright with
a sharp inhale of breath.

Two wolves
stood just within the ring of firelight, near the body of the one she’d shot
earlier.  She didn’t see the one that was circling the fire and approaching
from the side until it growled again, drawing her attention.  It was only ten
feet away when she saw it, gathering itself for an attack.

Despair and
heartache turned to white-hot rage in an instant.  Screaming, Rachel lifted the
pistol and began pulling the trigger even before she was aiming at a target. 
Standing as she continued to fire, she charged the wolf.  More frightened by
the gunshots than her screams, it turned and raced off into the darkness. 
Spinning, she looked for the two on the opposite side of the fire but they too
had disappeared.

Rachel stood
there for several minutes, panting as the rage subsided.  When she began
thinking more clearly she moved back to the log and frantically ejected the
pistol’s magazine.  One round left in the mag and there was one in the
chamber.  She only had two rounds left.

Angry with
herself, she tossed more wood on the fire and forced herself to think over her
options.  She only had two shots remaining in the pistol.  The wolves weren’t
showing any sign that they were moving on.  It was snowing harder again, and
from the feel of the breeze coming out of the north it was going to continue
for a while.  Dead wood for the fire was running out unless she began moving
deeper into the forest to collect it.  If she made it through the coming day
she knew she wouldn’t survive the next night.  She had to try something before
it was too late.

“When it
gets light,” she mumbled to herself.

After two
shots with the pistol, there were three shells for the flare gun.  Once she could
see she would start walking.  She had no idea which direction to go or how far
she was from anyplace where she could find shelter from the weather and
animals, but staying where she was would be resigning herself to a horrible
death when the wolves finally took her.

Rachel
looked over her shoulder when the thought came to her.  It wasn’t uncommon for
fishing cabins to be built on the shores of remote lakes.  She had known avid
fishermen and remembered hearing them talk about being glad they had a cabin at
a certain lake.  They would have a several hour hike to reach their favorite
spot where they’d spend several days fishing and drinking.  A cabin, even a
rough, primitive one was better than sleeping on the ground in a tent.

As soon as
there was light she’d start around the lake.  Her impression of it from the
previous day was that it was large.  Thinking about it in the dark she
convinced herself that there would be shelter somewhere along the shore.  And
walking next to the lake would give her protection on at least one side from
the wolves.  They probably weren’t any more eager to go into the frigid water
than she was.

Plan in
place, Rachel felt better.  She was hungry and was tempted to eat the last MRE,
but not knowing where food would come from after that was gone she resisted the
temptation.  At least she would have water as long as she stayed near the lake.

Rachel
passed the rest of the night lost in thought, staring into the flames.  She
heard the wolves howl a couple of times but they sounded far away.  The snow
stopped for an hour or two, then just as the first sign of light showed over
the peaks to her east it began snowing again. 

She gave it
half an hour, the light slowly growing until she could make out details of the
forest beyond the limits of the campfire.  Shouldering the survival pouch she
gripped the pistol in one hand, the flare gun in the other, and started
walking.

It had been
a long time since I’d walked in snow.  Or dealt with truly cold weather.  I’d
grown up in America’s desert southwest and other than some quick missions into
Europe, both eastern and western, most of my military career had been spent in
hot latitudes.  Snow skiing or boarding, or any winter sport, had never
interested me so cold weather had primarily been something I saw on TV.

Katie had
grown up in Michigan.  Snow was nothing to her.  She used to talk about going
snowmobiling, ice fishing, driving her car out onto frozen lakes, all kinds of
things that made me shiver and appreciate the desert all the more.  Moving
lightly she gave me a bright smile when she caught me looking at her.

The snow was
coming down harder as we climbed the ridge.  I was breathing heavily due to the
thin, mountain air.  Remembering watching football games, I wished for one of
the oxygen masks that teams visiting Denver would use to help their players
deal with the altitude.  I had no idea how high up we were but was pretty sure
it was a lot higher than Denver’s mile of elevation.

I was
keeping a constant scan going as we trudged up the slope, Dog moving easily a
few feet to my left rather than his normal position on my right.  It had taken
him a while to learn that if he didn’t want hot brass raining down on him he
needed to be on the other side of me.

The wind had
been at our backs when we started walking, but as we approached the crest of
the ridgeline it swung around until it was striking the right side of my face. 
Dog stopped at the top, looking down into the next valley.  As I stepped up
next to him his nose went into the air, a moment later his hackles going stiff
and a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“Infected?” 
Katie asked from the far side of Dog.

“I don’t
think so,” I said, scanning the terrain that opened up below us.  “Not all the
way out here.  Probably some wildlife.”

The valley
to our front was massive, a lake far below that filled the entire floor. 
Spread across the horizon beyond were dozens of spires of rock that soared into
the sky, all of them disappearing into the heavy overcast.  Looking at the
peaks I understood how the Sawtooth Mountains had gotten their name.

The slope
down to the lake wasn’t steep, at least the parts of it I could see.  It was
just a long way down and would be an even longer climb back up.  Dog growled
again and I placed a hand on his back, feeling the tension in his body as he
sampled the air.  Deciding to call my eye in the sky before heading deeper into
the forest, I fished the satellite phone out of a Velcro sealed pocket and
dialed.

“Hi, sir.”

“Jessica,
we’re on foot on top of the ridgeline overlooking the lake.  Is the target
still stationary?”

“I can’t
tell, sir.  Thermal isn’t getting through the clouds.  Too dense, and too much
water vapor.  I can still see the fire, but at the moment that’s the only thing
on the ground hot enough to show.  Sorry, sir.”  She answered.

I thanked
her, turned the phone’s ringer off and slipped it back in my pocket.  Making
sure the Velcro was secure so I didn’t lose our only connection to the outside
world, I stepped over the crest and started down the slope.

It was much
easier going down than climbing in the thin atmosphere.  The trees grew
thickly, the footing tricky with the snow concealing fallen branches that would
roll out from under our feet if we weren’t careful.  I cautioned Katie, as it
would be easy to sprain or break an ankle on the treacherous terrain.

We were
about half way down the slope to the lake when Dog stopped and lifted his head,
looking to the southeast.  I held up my fist as I stopped, Katie who was five
yards behind me halting when she saw my signal.  Dog didn’t growl, just kept
looking in the same direction then I heard what had drawn his attention.

Rotor
noise.  There was a helicopter in the mountains.  I glanced back at Katie and
she nodded that she was hearing it as well.  The helo was distant, the sounds
echoing off the hard rock of the peaks so it could well have been in a
completely different direction.  I listened hard but it was faint, fading in
and out depending on how much bounce the sound waves were getting from the mountains
at any given moment. 

I had hoped
to be able to hear it well enough to recognize the signature.  Every make of
helicopter, if you’re familiar with it, has a unique sound.  Different rotors,
different rotor speed, and a few other factors that only an aerodynamic
engineer can explain.  I can distinguish an Apache from a Black Hawk from a
Huey from a Russian HIND or Havoc just by the sound it makes while in flight. 
Most ground combat troops can.  But this was just too faint and inconsistent
for me to identify.

We stood
there until the sound faded completely, still with no clue whether it was
Russian or American and unsure which direction it was really in.  At first I
felt a swelling of hope in my chest, thinking it was Martinez coming to the
rescue, but I quickly dismissed that idea.  Colonel Crawford and Jessica both had
told me the Russians were building up their presence and had complete control
over the skies of western North America.  I doubted there would be an American
helo flying around.

Continuing
our trek I kept a close ear out for the helicopter, but it had either landed or
moved into an area of the mountains where its noise was screened from us.  We
covered another mile, the slope growing steeper in places and slowing our
progress.  I was getting glimpses of the large lake through the trees and an
occasional whiff of a fire when the wind was blowing directly in my face. 

We were
getting close and I reminded myself not to hurry and fail to watch for threats. 
Jessica had told me she believed there were wolves in the area tracking the
lone survivor.  Even though I had Dog, I didn’t want to let myself depend
completely on his senses.  Plus, there were some new players in the
neighborhood in a helicopter.

Getting
close enough to the lake to see occasional glimpses of the fire through the
trees, I stopped next to a set of clear tracks pressed into the snow.  They
looked like the prints Dog was leaving, but were nearly twice as large.  Jesus,
just how big did wolves get?

Dog lowered
his nose and sniffed the tracks thoroughly, finally looking down the slope in
the direction of the campfire.  Katie had stopped when I did and I waved her to
move up next to me, pointing at the tracks when she arrived.  She looked down
and knitted her brow in a question.

“Wolf,” I
mumbled, looking all around us.  “Stay close.”

She nodded
and moved with me when I continued down the slope.  We saw more tracks
crisscrossing the area as we cautiously picked our way through the snow.  No
more than thirty yards later I came to a stop when I saw what looked like a
bloody pile of clothing on a small shelf that overlooked the lake.  I pointed
and Katie nodded before resuming her scan all around us.

There were
many more tracks as we moved to the shelf, the snow churned up by multiple
animals passing back and forth through the area.  I could now tell that I was
seeing a body, recognizing the dark color of the flight suit against the
crimson stained snow.  Heart in my mouth, I approached the corpse and looked down.
 Relief flooded through me.

I didn’t
recognize the man, but all I cared about at the moment was that it wasn’t
Rachel.  The body had been torn open and devoured as well as much of the flesh
stripped off the legs, arms and back.  The face was damaged, horribly,
apparently having been gnawed on, but it clearly wasn’t Rachel.

Katie and I
exchanged glances before continuing on.  We cautiously approached the fire,
spreading apart as we got closer.  I made Dog stay with Katie as we moved
through the trees in case anything was in the area and we just hadn’t spotted it
yet.

The fire was
abandoned, yet still burning.  There was a large bed of coals and ash from
having been built up and I had no doubt that Rachel hadn’t been gone long. 
Motioning Katie and Dog to stay at the perimeter I moved in, noting the dead
wolf and the parachute canopy tied between two trees with a tall drift of snow
against the far side of the fabric. 

Several
brass shell casings from a pistol lay in the mud where the heat from the fire
had melted the surrounding snow.  I did a quick count and wasn’t happy to arrive
at the conclusion that she was either out of ammo or dangerously low.

Visually
searching the ground I easily spotted her tracks heading off along the
lakeshore.  Moving to the very edge of the water I raised the rifle and used
the scope to scan along the edge of the water in the direction she had gone.  I
didn’t see her but there were places where the lake lapped against bluffs
covered in thick trees.  If she were following the lake she would have to move
deeper into the forest to get past these areas.

I signaled
to Katie and she moved close to me as we began following the tracks.  It was
snowing heavily and they were already starting to fill in and would soon
disappear.  We needed to move fast.  Based on the state of the campfire I was
guessing she’d taken off about an hour ago.  The same time we were cresting the
ridge.

Leading the
way, I moved quickly.  The terrain was mostly level here next to the lake and
we were able to make good time.  Within the first hundred yards I spotted wolf
tracks angling in from the forest and pursuing.  I pushed faster, to a near
jog, Dog sensing impending action and moving in front.  Katie stayed close
behind as we moved through the silent forest.