Allegiance (18 page)

“I was tracking them but
you boys kept getting in the way... wouldn’t have wanted to accidently bag one
of you two. Besides... looked like you and Phillip had it handled.”

“Roger that,” Duncan
replied. “You two coming back to the compound with us?”

“No... we’ll herd this
watcher
in the woods
down to you. Meet you at the fence in two shakes.”

Duncan said nothing,
just watched the spectacle as the two five-footers—fully clad in camouflage
suits made up of burlap, twigs and grass—marched the much larger man-boy
towards the road. His kinked and matted locks flopped atop his head, keeping
tight cadence with each labored step. A poor man’s dreadlock job, Duncan mused.
If that’s what you call ‘em on a white guy. He hoped to see Daymon again.
Posing that question would make for one hell of an ice breaker. Maybe it’d even
allow the old man the opportunity to apologize for referring to the
ex-firefighter’s fine mane of dreadlocks as a spider. At least he hadn’t named
it Charlotte, he thought. That would have really gotten things started on the
wrong foot.

As it was, if Duncan’s
memory served, Daymon had been like a little clam when they’d first met—quiet
and wound tighter than the Blue Angels flying in formation. He warmed up slow,
but once you got to know the kid he was all right. The kind of guy you could
call solid.

Pushing the thoughts to
the back of his mind, he stepped to the barbed wire, placed a boot on the
bottom strand and pulled the middle up, creating an opening half the size of
their sunburned prisoner.

Getting the blindfolded
biggun through the fence was easier said than done. With Phillip pulling far
less than his weight, and the girls pushing on far more than theirs, they
finally got it done. The whole endeavor made certain Duncan would be taking a
handful of Tylenol later— quite a few more than “
the doctor’s recommended
dose
.”

“So, darlin’,” Duncan
drawled. “What was this sack of shit doin up there?”

Jamie removed her boonie
hat; the overlapping foliage peeled away with it. Then she handed over the
small yellow notepad. “He’s been keeping tabs on us.”

“Phil, why dontcha
double check him for weapons, then help Jordan jam him into the back of the
Hummer.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Fuck Phil—“

“Sorry Duncan.”

As Phillip gave the
white Rasta a thorough searching, a few muffled grunts, most likely an argument
of some sort, escaped the kid’s mouth through the oily scrap of burlap clogging
his mouth.

Duncan regarded the
notepad. Turned it over in his hand. “And what am I to do with this?” he
drawled. “Go on an Audubon Society outing?”

“Just look inside,”
Jamie said. She donned her hat minus the ghillie overlay, helped Jordan over
the fence, then effortlessly scaled it herself, joining the younger woman on
the other side.

Duncan read the last two
pages, made a face, then stuffed the journal in a cargo pocket. “I’ll take this
to Logan and the others see what they make of it.”

“We’ll hang out here a little
while and see if anyone comes looking for this turd,” replied Jamie as she
arranged the foliage-covered net over her head until just her eyes were
visible. “Let’s go, Jordan. Good job up there.”

Duncan watched the two
women walk uphill and crest the rise, noting that they had taken a slight
deviation so their tracks wouldn’t be as obvious in the tall grass.

Moving gingerly, he slid
behind the wheel, then keyed the two-way radio. “Ladies... be sure you shoot
first and ask questions later.”

“Copy that Sir,” said
Jamie, who by now had melted back into the forest.

Duncan’s brow knitted.
Somewhere in the background, overlapped by the woman’s voice, he thought he
could hear someone breathing, low and steady. “Logan, that you?” he queried.

Silence.

Duncan keyed the radio.
Repeated himself. “Baby bro... that you?”

“Yes,” a voice replied.

“Gotta let her go. She’s
a big girl.”

More silence.

“And she’s probably
listening in right now you
moron
,” Duncan added. Just a little brotherly
jab. Then he gazed to the west.
Clear.
To the east, c
lear.
At
Phillip, who by now was in the Toyota, head scanning the road, waiting
patiently.

“She knows how I feel,”
Logan conceded.

“Well Romeo... harden
your heart. We’re on our way with a present.”

“I know,” Logan
admitted. “I overheard your entire conversation.”

“You were
eavesdropping
?”
Duncan joked.

Changing the subject,
Logan said, “So what do you mean by
harden my heart?
Are we going to
torture
him?”

“We’ll see,” Duncan said
darkly. “If he doesn’t cooperate... what was it that Malcolm X said?
By any
means necessary
—” He made it a point to speak loudly so the kid in the back
seat had something to think about on their
long
drive to the compound.

A rustle of clothing and
some grunting emanated from the back of the Humvee.

Duncan smiled and fired
up the engine. Then he got Logan back on the two-way. “One more thing— I know
you were a good little packrat before the shit hit the fan— but what I’d
really
like to hear is that you went and stocked up on a good amount of ammunition for
that big Barrett sniper rifle of yours.”

“I’ve got
some
,”
Logan said.

Duncan smiled. He knew
Logan’s favorite store had always been Costco. Therefore, Logan’s idea of
some
had always been a little different than most everyone else’s.

“How many is
some
,”
Duncan asked.

“Five... maybe six
hundred rounds. Why?”

“If this new toy of ours
makes it down the road without getting wedged between a couple of trees, you’ll
see.” Duncan stuck his arm out the window and waved Phillip ahead. He kept
track of the Land Cruiser in the rearview, watched as it passed on the right,
then stopped short. Phillip moved quickly; he opened the hidden gate and hopped
back inside. He drove the rig through and waited for Duncan, who tucked his
ride close to the Toyota’s bumper, entrusting Phillip to batten down the
hatches behind them.

Again Logan’s voice
crackled through the radio. “What is this new
toy
you’re bringing back?”
Then he cleared his throat dramatically. “I’m afraid to hear an answer though.
If a Department of Homeland Security Black Hawk is not enough toy for you, old
man... what is?”

“You’ll see,” Duncan
intoned. He smiled as he pictured Logan sitting in the communications area back
at the compound, wondering what in the hell his older brother was up to this
time. And even though the story of a cranky Air Force first sergeant freely
giving away a helicopter so he could ferry himself to Utah was one hundred
percent above board, he was certain Logan hadn’t bought it. Furthermore, Duncan
knew without a doubt that in Logan’s mind, his retelling of his flight from
Portland, Oregon to Schriever AFB in Colorado also required a tall pair of hip
waders.

Duncan’s smile turned to
laughter as he visualized his much younger brother madly twisting his handlebar
mustache, which, while they spoke, was probably slowly turning gray from worry.
After their mom—who had perfected the art—Logan was the next biggest worrier in
the family. Always had been. And at times Duncan wondered how crazy the
Winters’s household would have been if him and Logan had been closer in age.
The one thing he was certain of, his dad would have gone crazy with two
worrywarts in the house while he was tear-assing all over southeast Asia with a
Huey Gunship strapped to his ass. Because Lord knows their mom’s constant
worrying had been more than enough to age their father prematurely, and then
the new baby coming along when the two were in their mid-forties had vastly
accelerated the aging process.

A pall fell over Duncan
as he reflected on their passing. Both were in their mid-sixties when they’d
passed, much too young considering all of the Hollywood pukes who lived to be
in their nineties while still banging girls in their twenties. He shook his
head. Hell, the world was an unfair motherfucker.

Yep, his parents lost
out. They had barely inched into their golden years when the Reaper took them,
six months apart—inexplicably, both in their sleep. Hadn’t even made a dent in
their retirement savings. In the end, the nest egg had been split between him
and his brother. Logan built the compound with his half of the inheritance. He
believed the Y2K bug was coming and was destined to knock the world on its
collective butt; consequently, this worry nurtured within him an overwhelming
urge to spend it on something tangible. And a handful of Conex shipping
containers and the land to plant them seemed reasonable at the time. Especially
since Logan feared that money would soon become worthless—nothing but
unreadable data contained on dead hard drives within dead computers.

Duncan, on the other
hand, burned through his cash in a blur. Two hundred and fifty grand. Vegas,
Reno, Lake Tahoe—pretty much anywhere he could drown his sorrows and gamble
away the money, which had become a constant nagging reminder of yet another
cruel cosmic joke played on the Winters’s family.
If only I was as
emotionally mature as Logan
, he thought.
Then maybe I’d have something
to show for all of Mom and Dad’s hard work
. He wasn’t proud of many of the
things he had done in the past but he
was
proud of Logan, and when they
had been reacquainted a handful of days ago, he had never been happier. The kid
had his unconditional love and that wasn’t a one-way street. In fact, their
parents’ deaths had brought them closer together for a spell, until life had
once again separated them. Duncan was not only grateful for how Logan had spent
his inheritance and the relative safety the compound afforded, he also
considered himself lucky that he’d found his last remaining kin. Now that they
were reunited, he’d do anything to ensure baby bro’s safety—even if it meant
making the ultimate sacrifice.

After the last few
crater-sized potholes sent spasms through Duncan’s lower back and elicited
pain-filled moans from the trussed and blindfolded prisoner in the back seat,
the gravel feeder road finally spit the Humvee into the
clearing-cum-makeshift-airstrip.

Chief, Gus, and Lev
stood in the sun looking like kids on Christmas morning, eagerly awaiting their
parents’ blessing to tear into their presents.

But Duncan didn’t stop.
Instead, to confuse his prisoner, he drove the length of the airstrip, then
spun a U-turn when the packed dirt stripes ran out. He sped back towards the
mystified trio, zig-zagging to and fro across the runway. For good measure he
made two more similar passes and finally parked near the waiting men and killed
the engine. When he emerged from the military Humvee he pressed a vertical
finger against his lips and gestured for the men to approach.

Outbreak - Day 15

Schriever AFB

Colorado Springs,
Colorado

Bang! Bang! Bang!
The three sharp raps, loud enough to wake the
dead, rattled the screen door.

Brook padded across the
room and snatched up her M4. Since she wasn’t expecting anyone to drop by, her
mind rapidly flicked through every scenario she could think of. Annie didn’t
like to venture out with the baby, especially with the Elvis guy still not
accounted for. Cade had said he wouldn’t be back until around dinner time. She
flicked her gaze to Raven, who was staring wide eyed from a top bunk five feet
away. She checked the safety.
On.
Flicked the lever over to
fire
.
The rifle is now
hot,
she thought. Only it wasn’t
her
inner voice
that she heard, it sounded more like Cade was speaking in her head. She kept
the barrel trained on the floor, eyes riveted to the door.

“
Who is it
?” she
said, lowering her voice a few octaves so as to sound intimidating. She stole a
sidelong glance at the stray Australian Shepherd that she had somehow been
convinced they
had
to adopt. Max was on his belly, white teeth bared,
hackles raised. So far he hadn’t growled or barked and seemed to be focusing on
the door handle.
Good dog
, Brook thought to herself.

Following the urgent
knocks, a muted male voice called out, “I’m looking for Brooklyn Grayson.”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“
Who
is looking
for Brooklyn Grayson?” she said, this time without altering her voice. She
brought the rifle to her shoulder and trained it at the door, midway between
the handle and the middle set of hinges. Exactly where she assumed center mass
would be on her gentleman caller.

Again the voice called
out, much louder this time. “It’s
Wilson
. I ran into you in the mess at
breakfast time.”

Amazing
, Brook thought.
Now the kid’s stalking me
.
“What do you want?” she bellowed.

“Open the door. This is
effin
important!” he hollered back.

She lowered her rifle,
flicked it safe and motioned for Raven to unlock the door, all the while her
face conveying a look urging the twelve-year-old to be careful.

Raven flashed her usual
‘
I got this, Mom’
smile. Meanwhile, Max let out a lone growl that Brook
interpreted to mean that he also had their back.

Bright light cut into
the room followed by the gangly redhead. He removed his hat, and nodded at
Raven first. “Thanks,” he said to her. Then he skipped the formalities and
addressed Brook. “I have something
very
important to show you.” He kept
his eyes locked with Brook’s, reached a hand into the hip pocket on his cargo
shorts, and came out with the thumb drive, its metal case reflecting the
sunlight streaming in the open door.

Brook stared at him,
then at the metal object that he was holding in her line of sight. “Come
inside,” she said. Raven closed the door, maneuvered around the visitor and
plopped down on her mom’s lower bunk.

Wilson handed the device
over. “If this is what I think it is... everyone on this base is going to shit
a brick.” He smiled, a big toothy grin made whiter by his sunburned face.

Brook couldn’t begin to
fathom the importance of the item the kid had just handed her. She turned it
over in her palm. PROPERTY OF THE CDC was etched into the aluminum case on one
side. After a beat, which gave her mind the time to process the acronym, her
jaw fell open.

“What is it, Mom?”

Brook’s eyes flicked to
Raven and then over to Wilson, whose face was still plastered with that
satisfied Cheshire Cat-like grin. Then, after she flipped the device over, it
was she who nearly shit a brick. Because, scrawled there freehand in bold block
letters in black sharpie, was the name FUENTES, and just seeing it nearly
stopped her heart. “Where did you get this?” she gasped. But before Wilson
could answer, Brook’s mind blazed through the ramifications—99.9% of them were
good but the other one-tenth of one percent troubled her. And the root of that
worry had to do with how Cade would react if the information that everyone had
assumed was lost forever was actually stored on the thumb drive that she held
in her hand.

“My friend Taryn found
it hidden away in her quarters. Which apparently is the same building that the
medical personnel stayed in.”

Brook nodded. “When did
she find it?”

“Three days ago after
she got out of quarantine.”

“
What
...” Brook
cried. “Why did she sit on it for so long?”

Obviously taken aback,
Wilson paused for a tick. “She told me it was probably filled with MP3s... you
know—
music
.”

“I’m young enough to
know what an MP3 is,
buddy
,” Brook shot back.

“It’s not Taryn’s fault.
She didn’t know what CDC stood for or who the hell Fuentes is... err...
was
.”

“I can see how that
could happen. The initials CDC didn’t ring a bell with me when I first saw them.”
Brook made a face. She remained silent for a moment, turning everything over in
her head.

Raven had been following
the conversation like a spectator at an Olympic caliber ping pong match, her
head swinging to and fro after each verbal volley.

Max, on the other hand,
appeared to be oblivious to the conversation. He was curled up under Brook’s
bunk, head tucked in with one brown ear probing the air.

Brook cocked her head to
the side and worked at taming her medium length locks. She wrapped a band
multiple times around a thick shock of her brown hair, leaving it up in a high
ponytail. “Raven, get your boots on,” she said. Then directing her attention at
the dog, she added. “Max. You’re staying here... lots of golf carts and trucks
zipping around out there.” The dog’s head gophered up. He fixed his bicolored
eyes on Brook, wagged his tail as if in agreement, then reburied his head.

Brook grabbed two loaded
magazines from the metal table near the door, stuffed them in her side cargo
pockets, and fastened the Velcro so they’d stay put.

Finished lacing her
boots, Raven pulled a tan ball cap low on her head, leaving her pigtails poking
out the sides.

“Where’s your sister?”
Brook asked Wilson.

“Sasha’s being a baby.
She’s back at our trailer. And she’s pissed because Taryn stole a few hours of
my attention.”

“Who is this Taryn
girl?” asked Brook.

Wilson’s brow hitched
up. “Your husband and his men saved her from an airport somewhere in western
Colorado. I think Taryn said it was in Grand Junction. Anyway, she was the only
one who survived the outbreak there.
Nine
days all by herself.”

“How well do you know
her?”

Wilson nodded and a
smile formed as he spoke, “Me and her are pretty close.”

Brook noticed that same
toothy grin again.
How close
? she wondered. “I’m taking this to Shrill.
He’ll know what to do with it.”

“Can I tag along?”
Wilson asked.

“I wouldn’t have it any
other way,” Brook said. She followed Wilson and Raven out the door and locked
up.