Red Hammer: Voodoo Plague Book 4 (18 page)

The males continued to scrape and bump their way down the
hall towards my team.  I was concerned, but not desperately so until I heard
more noise from my right.  More infected coming.  Enough already.  I had to
move, and had to move now.  Taking a quick mental inventory of what I had on my
person I came up with an idea.  All it needed to work was for me to be able to
release the door handle without a flood of infected pouring out of the
stairwell.

As quietly as I could I let go and climbed to my feet, pulling
my rifle sling over my head.  Careful to stay quiet and not bang against the
door, I inserted the muzzle of the rifle through the handle.  It was pointing
to my left and lighting up the three infected that had already passed me.  I
pushed the rifle past the door jamb and into the handle until it would go no
farther.  Wrapping the sling through the handle I tied a knot in it so the
rifle was held in place.  With it wedged against the steel frame around the door
and through the loop of the handle, it should be impossible for the infected to
pull the door open.  Should be.

Not wasting any more time I drew my Kukri and moved into the
light to follow the three infected.  The first one I came to had been a security
guard and was still dressed in light duty body armor.  I raised the Kukri and
stabbed down into the back of his neck, avoiding the collar of his vest.  He
died instantly and collapsed to the floor.  The other two heard him go down and
turned with snarls.

I stepped in, buried the blade in the heart of the one
closest to me, stepped over the falling body and stabbed up through the third
one’s mouth into his brain.  He dropped like a sack of wet laundry and I turned
to meet the other infected that were coming up behind me.  As I completed the
turn I heard the running feet, had time to realize at least one female was
attacking and stepped sideways to put her between me and the light.

She was almost on me and coming fast and quiet.  Body
silhouetted by my flashlight which was still mounted to the rifle holding the
door shut, I side stepped again and slashed with the Kukri.  The blade opened
her throat and almost decapitated the body.  She crashed to the floor and I
continued the motion to spin and bury the point into the chest of the female
that was close on her heels.

I missed the heart and she opened her mouth to scream but
only a gurgle of blood from her lacerated lung came out.  She tried to wrap me
in an embrace, snapping teeth lunging for my face, but I shoved her back with
my free hand, Kukri coming free as she staggered away.  Not waiting for her to
recover, I attacked, charging in and slashing across her exposed throat and
severing both arteries and her trachea.  She fell to the floor and started
twitching and gurgling as she died.

Four more males were right behind her and I slashed and
stabbed my way through them until all were dead on the floor.  The polished
tile was covered with slippery blood and I nearly went down when there was a
sound behind me.  Catching my balance I spun, Kukri up and dripping blood from
its razor sharp edge, but it was my team standing there looking at me, blinking
in the bright flashlight beam.

Martinez looked around at the dead infected for a moment,
said something under her breath in Spanish and gave me a big smile.  Doc looked
pale as a ghost and Scott looked from body to body, cataloging the carnage.  I
bent and wiped the blade clean on one of the corpse’s pants, sheathed it and
stepped up to them.

“What’d you find?”  I asked in a quiet voice.

“No other access up.”  Scott answered, still looking at the
bodies.  “But we got the elevator doors open and we have a problem.  The car
didn’t make it all the way up before the power went out.  It’s stuck between
the first sub-level and this one.”

Shit.  Why couldn’t anything ever be easy?  Or at least go
according to plan?  For probably about the thousandth time in my adult life I
grudgingly acknowledged the old axiom that says even the best laid plans don’t
survive contact with the enemy.  So fucking true.  OK, on to plan C.  Whatever
the hell it was.

“Alright.  We can get into the car from above, we’ve just
got to get to the ground level.  What about the elevator shaft?  Was there a
ladder built in for maintenance?”  I asked.

They all looked at each other and I could tell without them
saying anything that they didn’t know.  That was the first thing we needed to
check.

“Did you find anything we can use to block that door so I
can get my rifle back?”  I asked, not wanting to have to leave it behind. 
Martinez reached to her left wrist and unbuckled a survival bracelet.

“Got 13 feet of 550 paracord here.  Anything on the opposite
wall we can use as an anchor point?”  She asked, holding the bracelet out to
me. 

Paracord bracelets are a cleverly woven length of nylon line
with a breaking point of 550 pounds.  They can be unraveled in an emergency and
you have a short length of rope that is very tough and strong.  I took the
bracelet and headed for the stairwell door, motioning for everyone to be as
quiet as possible.

For once, I was in luck.  Across the hall from the stairwell
was a vault with one of the heavy, chrome wheels in the center of the door.  I
quickly unraveled the bracelet, straightened the rope out and tied an end
securely to the vault.  Stretching it across the hall I made several loops
around the door handle, stretched the cord as tight as I could get it and tied
it off.  I felt fairly good about this option.  I didn’t see any way possible
the infected could exert enough pulling force on the door to break the
paracord.  Retrieving my rifle, I led the way to the elevator doors.

Scott and I pried the doors open, and while he held them in
place I leaned in with my rifle and looked around with the flashlight.  Just a
couple of feet above the top of the opening was the bottom of the car with the
bombs in it.  Shining the light to the side I wasn’t surprised to find that the
shaft was actually wider than the car.  Vertical girders were in place to guide
and stabilize the car as it moved up and down, but there was another three feet
of space beyond the girders.  That space was there for maintenance as well as
rescue if the car got stuck, and iron rungs were set into the concrete wall,
creating a ladder that ran the full height of the shaft. 

“We’ve got a ladder,” I said, pulling my head back into the
hall.  “I’m going up, then the doc and Martinez.  You OK holding the doors
while you get on the ladder?”  I asked Scott.

“No problem.”  He answered.  I nodded and slung my rifle
with the muzzle and flashlight pointing up so I could see what I was climbing
into.

I may have mentioned I don’t like heights.  I can jump out
of a perfectly good airplane.  I can fast rope out of a helicopter.  I can even
repel down very tall buildings or cliff faces.  Just don’t ask me to climb a
ladder and clean out the gutters or check the roof.  Yes, it’s an unreasonable
fear, and for a moment I actually considered going back to the stairwell and
fighting my way through the infected rather than stepping across that open
space and onto the narrow iron rung.

Forcing myself to only look at where I was going to place my
hands and feet, I reached into the shaft, grabbed a rung then stuck a leg in
and stepped onto the ladder.  Taking a deep breath I started climbing, every
step feeling like I was going to miss and fall into the yawning darkness
beneath me.  But I didn’t slip, and I didn’t fall.  I kept climbing until I was
above the top of the elevator car.  Beneath me I could hear the others on the
ladder.

“Does your light really need to be shining directly up my
skirt?”

“Relax, Doc.  Nothing I haven’t seen before, and not my cup
of tea.”  Martinez answered.

“Knock the shit off and stay focused!”  I hissed at them. 
This wasn’t the time or place to be worrying about personal dignity and whether
or not someone was getting an eyeful of your goodies.

I started climbing again, worried about the infected that
were on the ground level.  When we had called the elevator to come down, we had
heard screams from females in response to the ding from the call button.  Had
we gotten away cleanly and they moved on in search of us, or were they waiting
to pounce as soon as the doors slid open?  There’s only one way to find out, I
thought as I continued to climb.

I reached the doors at ground level, having climbed the last
few rungs as quietly as I could.  If I wasn’t cautious my boots would make a
ringing sound when I took a step, and I was worried about my rifle or other
piece of equipment banging into something.  With both feet on the same level, I
hooked an arm through a rung and stood perfectly still, listening.  After a few
minutes of hearing nothing I reached out and tripped the door’s release lever. 
This didn’t open them, just released the mechanism that kept them securely closed
when a car wasn’t in position.

Pausing again to listen, I kept my hand on the lever, ready
to relock the doors if I heard any indication of infected waiting for us in the
hallway.  I gave it a few minutes, but other than the doc’s heavy breathing below
me in the darkness I didn’t hear anything.  Taking a deep breath and making
sure I had a solid grip on the ladder, I grasped one of the braces on the shaft
side of the doors and very slowly pulled it open a few inches.

Still no sounds, and with a death grip on the iron rung I
swung one foot off the ladder and onto the narrow concrete ledge in front of
the doors.  Stretching my body I tried to see through the opening, but it was
pitch black on the other side of the doors, light from my flashlight not penetrating
into the hall.  Staying in that position I listened hard for a few more
minutes, still hearing nothing.  Reaching above my head I fumbled around until
the flashlight was in my hand, detached it from the rifle and aimed the beam
through into the darkness.

Shiny, linoleum flooring and a white painted wall opposite
the elevator was all I could see through the gap which was no more than three
inches wide.  Still no sound.  No females lunging at the sudden appearance of a
light.  No males stumbling and scraping their way down the hall.  Where the
hell were they?  The only way to answer that question was to keep going, so I
placed the flashlight on the floor, aimed to illuminate the hall, and pulled
the doors farther open.

When I had them open wide enough to pass through, I stopped pulling,
picked up the flashlight and leaned into the hall.  I quickly scanned in each
direction, not finding anything to worry me, then took a more careful look
around.  The hall was just as stark and empty as it had been when we had
entered the facility. 

I swung my other foot off the ladder and stepped fully into
the hall, reattaching the flashlight and raising my rifle.  Silently, I padded
to each of the corners, carefully checking the other halls that ran
perpendicular to the one I was in, but still found no sign of any infected. 
Back at the door I poked my upper body through the opening and waved the team
up.

Doctor Monroe was first and was moving gingerly on the iron
rungs in her bare feet.  When she was level with the door I reached into the
shaft and firmly grasped her upper arm to help her transition off the ladder
and into the hall.  The lab coat she wore was bulky, and I was mildly surprised
when I felt the hard muscle in her arm.  She smiled her thanks and stepped nimbly
into the hall.

Martinez and Scott followed quickly, moving to set up a
crude perimeter.  Now we just needed to get the nukes out of the elevator car
and up, but before we started that I wanted to make sure we’d be able to get
them to the waiting MRAP.  Retracing our earlier steps along the line painted
on the floor we quickly reached the large loading area.  Peering through the
tall, narrow window in the door I couldn’t see any problems waiting for us, so
I stepped in with rifle up and scanning.

The room was still empty, which was good news, and I checked
the metal rolling door that separated us from the shed where the MRAP was
parked.  It was still open six feet, just like I’d left it which was even more
good news.  I started to think this was going to work out, quickly shutting
down the thought before I jinxed us.

We moved across the open space and ducked into the shed. 
Scott and I each took a side of the MRAP and cleared the area as Martinez
checked underneath the big vehicle.  All clear, I motioned them to come into a
tight group so we could talk quietly.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” I started, speaking in a
very low voice.  “Doc in the MRAP where it’s safe.  The rest of us are going to
take two of those carts and go get the nukes.  Scott and I will bring them up
the ladder one at a time.  Martinez, you’ll be on security at the top of the
shaft.  Questions?”

I half expected Doctor Monroe to protest being left behind
in the vehicle, but she seemed more than happy with the arrangement.  She was a
scientist, not a soldier, and had probably seen enough blood and mayhem to last
a lifetime.  Scott and Martinez nodded and we quickly got the doc situated,
cautioning her not to touch anything.

Back inside, Scott and I each grabbed a hand cart.  I
abandoned mine and selected another when the wheels squealed as it started to
move.  The carts were large and flat with four wheels and a metal loop that
stuck up at one end to make a handle.  If they were painted orange instead of
white I would have thought the US Government had swiped them from a Home Depot.

I was the first one back in the shaft, climbing down and
stepping onto the roof of the stalled elevator car.  A hatch that could be used
for emergency rescues was held closed with a simple spring lock and I popped it
open and raised the door, carefully letting it rest against the wall of the
shaft.  Aiming my rifle into the opening, the flashlight lit up the inside of
the car and I saw the nine remaining SADMs sitting where we’d left them.

Glancing up to make sure Scott was on his way down the
shaft, I squatted next to the open hatch, grasped the frame on either side of
it and swung my legs into the opening, dropping to the floor of the car.  A
moment later I heard Scott’s boots on the roof and I grabbed one of the bombs,
hoisted it over my head and held it up to the opening.  He pulled it through
and set it to the side as I reached for another one.  Soon we had all of them
on the roof.

Unslinging my rifle, I passed it up and gave Scott a moment
to get out of the way.  Arms extended, I jumped and grasped the hatch frame,
pulling myself up until my upper body was through and on the roof.  Scrambling
the rest of the way, I got on my feet and took my rifle back.  Scott already
had one of the bombs on his back and he swung onto the ladder and climbed for
the opening above.  Grabbing another one, I followed. 

We were on our third trip down the shaft, six bombs spread
between the two carts, when Martinez’ voice came over the radio.

“Contact!  Multiple males.”  Scott and I froze for a moment. 
Each of us had a bomb in hand, preparing to swing the pack onto our backs, but
if we had to go fight we didn’t want to be weighed down by the nukes.  A
heartbeat later I heard Martinez start firing, her suppressed rifle quiet but
still clearly audible in the tomblike silence of the building.

I dropped the bomb I was holding and grabbed onto the
ladder, quickly climbing and stepping into the hallway behind Martinez.  I
glanced in the direction she was firing and saw a fairly large group of males
heading our way.  She was dropping them efficiently, making each shot count,
but they just kept coming around the corner.  Rifle up I scanned the other
direction, towards the loading bay, and for the moment it was clear.

Fuck it.  We had six bombs.  Better to leave now, with six,
than try to get the last three and wind up trapped with dwindling ammunition
and no other way out.  Scott had made it back into the hall and had added his
fire to our defense.  For the moment the two of them were holding the infected at
a static point, but it was taking a lot of ammo.

“OK, we’re moving to the MRAP!  Scott, grab a cart. 
Martinez on security.”  I grabbed one of the carts and rested my rifle over the
handle so it was pointing in the same direction I was pushing.

Moving fast, I didn’t slow for the turn into the hallway to
the loading bay.  There was four feet of metal in front of me with almost 300
pounds of bombs on it.  If there were any infected waiting around the corner I
would take their legs out before they could attack.  Making the turn, I took a
big chunk out of the wall with the front corner of the cart, but kept pushing
hard as I dashed for the loading bay.  Behind me I could hear Scott making the
turn and the nearly continuous fire from Martinez’ rifle.

Sliding on the floor I got the cart stopped and yanked the
door into the loading bay wide open.  Scott had room to get past and I waved
him through, shoved my cart through one handed and turned to back up Martinez. 
She was right behind us, running backwards and firing into the group of
infected that completely filled the width of the hallway. 

“Behind you.”  I said before placing my hand flat on her
upper back to guide her to the door.  She fired three more rounds then stepped
through the door, rifle bolt locking open on an empty magazine. 

Following her through, I pulled on the door’s crash bar to
close it.  At first I didn’t think the pneumatic closer was going to allow me
to close the door before the infected reached us, but it released its pressure
when the opening was down to two feet.  I held the bar with both hands and
looked around, but Scott was already on the job.

He had dashed across the room to get another cart.  When I
spotted him he was running towards me, pushing the cart with the squeaky
wheels.  Arriving, he flipped it onto its side and shoved it across the door I
was still holding.  The cart was longer than the width of the door and he
jammed it tight against the metal door frame. 

The infected had arrived, en masse.  Loud thumps started up
as they pounded on the door, and in the dim light from my flashlight I could
see snarling, bloody faces pressed up against the small window.  Stepping back,
Scott dropped his pack and dug out his roll of duct tape.  Pulling a couple of
very long strips off the roll he quickly compressed them into a shape
resembling a rope.  Feeding these through the crash bar he wrapped them around
the body of the cart, pulled them taut and tied them off.  I had no idea how
strong duct tape was when used like this, but I knew it was damn tough stuff.

Releasing the door I took a step away.  Again, securing a
door so the infected couldn’t
pull
it open was probably unnecessary, but
I sure felt better knowing they didn’t have an easy path to get to us.  Scott
and I trotted across the room, carts wobbling slightly as we moved them faster
then they were intended to travel.  I was the first into the shed, ducking
slightly so I didn’t scramble what little brains I had on the bottom edge of
the rolling door.

Scott came through right behind me, followed closely by
Martinez.  The back doors to the MRAP were open and waiting for us, not what I
expected.  Doctor Monroe should have been buttoned up tight inside.  I pulled
on the cart’s handle, dragging it to a stop as she stepped around the back corner
of the big vehicle.  Scott and Martinez slid to a stop on either side of me.  I
cursed when two more figures stepped into view on the far side of the vehicle. 

I still had Doctor Monroe’s rifle magazine tucked away in my
vest, but she had found a fresh one in the MRAP.  She stood next to the heavily
armored bumper and aimed her rifle directly at my face.  The other two figures
were wearing uniforms in a camouflage pattern I didn’t immediately recognize,
but I did recognize the AKMS rifles held steady on Martinez and Scott.

“Yobanaya suka!”  I said to Monroe.  Fucking bitch in
Russian.

“Da.”  She answered with a sweet smile.