Dead Island: Operation Zulu (19 page)
"Nice to see ya, Captain," Zoe West said as she handed out handfuls of power bars to the adults and children. Washington had opened the cooler and was passing out water bottles. Brooks could see the group was visibly relaxing. The group was now feeling safe, but Brooks knew different. They still had to stop the Russians from hijacking their escape from this damned island.
Brooks glanced around the interior of the Pit Bull. West, Washington, Gonzales, and a sick-looking Cord were the only team members she could see. She knew Jefferson was still alive up front, but who was driving? She leaned over and looked towards the cab, where she could make out the intimidating form of Sergeant Newman. Sighing heavily, she looked over at West.
"Zoe, this it?" she asked above the chatter of the excited children and grownups.
"Yeah, Captain," West nodded solemnly. "This is it 'cept for Gator an’ Poncho."
"Fuck me," Brooks said quietly. "The major?"
"No, I’m sorry. He died trying to save me and the case." She dropped her head a little. "The old man went out fighting."
"I bet he did," Brooks said in a reverent tone. She’d really liked Hale. He’d always been a good and honest commander. It was hard for her to believe he was gone. She would mourn for him later, but right now, she had the Russians to worry about. Looking around the now cramped interior of the vehicle, she saw the remainder of her team helping out the surviving children and adults. The only one not in motion was Cord. He sat with his eyes closed, shivering. A blanket was wrapped tightly around him.
"Zoe, Cord okay?"
"Naw, Captain." She handed a thin blanket to Sister Anne. "He … we think he may be infected. Jefferson hit him with an injector, but it doesn’t look to good. Lucas got bit up, and the ant-virus didn’t take," she said sadly.
"Keep an eye on him," Brooks said standing up and moving through the crowd to the Pit Bull's cab. The officer knew that Cord would have to be dealt with sooner or later. The anti-virus usually worked. What the hell was going on?
"Cap'n," Newman greeted her as she stepped in behind them. Brooks glanced down at the thinning pool of blood around her boots. Before she could ask, Newman told her it was Wickham's blood. She instantly wanted to step from the slowing drying puddle just out of respect for the dead lieutenant, but there was no more room in the cab. She just quietly swallowed and nodded to both men.
"Listen, the Russians are headed directly for the plane. They tried to kill all of us in an attempt to make it to the airfield."
"Almost there Cap'n," Newman said. "Plan?"
"Ah,” she smirked. "You guys happen to get the major's SAT phone?"
"Sure did." Jefferson reached into a leg pocket and pulled out the yellow, blood-spackled phone. "Hope you have better luck," he said solemnly.
"Let’s see if we can postpone that airstrike," Brooks said, gingerly taking the handset from Jefferson. She wiped the bloody phone on her pant leg then read the instructions on the keypad. She powered the phone up then entered the code that Hale had taped to it in case of this very situation. Brooks placed the handset to her ear. Silence. She tried again, angrily jabbing the numbers. Nothing. "SAT phone's no good."
"You need to hurry up," Jefferson said, looking over at Newman.
"Got the pedal to the metal, mate." There was a loud thump, and the Pit Bull rocked a little as they ran over a lone deader. Black liquid splashed across the windshield. Newman turned the wipers on only to make the smear worse. "Shit!"
"Maybe Wu can fix it," the captain said. "Wait." She rolled the phone around in her gloved hands. She poked a small hole with her index finger. "It’s no good. There’s a small caliber bullet hole in it. Crap!"
"Must’ve happened during the assault on the lab." Jefferson shook his head slowly as he watched the wipers quickly thin out the black smear on the windshield.
"I would say the major was lucky," Alby frowned, "but …"
"Yeah." Brooks dropped the SAT phone onto the floor and bitterly stomped it to pieces. Both men looked at their commanding officer in quiet understanding. Brooks realized she was out of control and quickly stopped herself. Looking up from the broken handset, she sighed and brushed her hair out of her eyes.
"I’m sorry," she said softly then brushed the broken phone to the side with her blood-stained boot. "We are getting off this island. Once we reach the outer perimeter of the airfield, I think it’s best we go on foot. We’ll leave the parents and the kids in the Pit Bull. We drive right in, I’m afraid the Russians will be waiting for us.”
"They’ve been ahead of us this whole bleedin’ time," Newman said bitterly.
"Any contact with the plane?" Brooks asked.
"Yeah, Cap'n. We was able to give 'em a 'eds up. They know the bad guys are comin’." Newman nodded as he watched the road through the bloody windshield. "Comms aren’t workin' though."
"Company gear. Only the best," Jefferson said, fastening his tac vest.
"Not the first time this shit's happened," Brooks agreed. "When we get about a quarter mile out from the airfield, stop the Pit Bull." Both men looked at her, fatigued. "This will be the last bit of work. I promise."
The station wagon died with what only could be described as a gigantic belch followed by a huge, black cloud of smoke. The overtaxed automobile rolled to a stop behind the airport's main terminal building. Another cloud of noxious smoke erupted in the interior of the vehicle, causing all the occupants to quickly bail out. Nico grumbled as he unhappily pulled the scientist from the rear of the wagon. Arkady climbed out of the passenger side, carrying the case and his rifle with him. The commander found an open door in the back of the building and waved the others over to it. The rest of his team and their captors made a beeline for the opening. Arkady stopped Yuri at the door.
"Wait out here. Keep lookout in case we have visitors."
"But we took care of the Americans," Yuri pleaded.
"Then look for zombies," Arkady said gruffly. He patted the young mercenary on the chest. "We don’t need anyone getting infected before we leave. Do we?" he asked menacingly.
"No … no. Of course not."
"Good. I will call for you when we make our move." He smiled and wagged his finger as he stepped inside. "I will make a mercenary of you yet, Yuri."
"Yes, Arkady." Yuri found himself nodding against his will. "Yes. Of course you will."
The older man nodded and walked through the door into the terminal building. The motley group stood in the hallway, waiting for Arkady. "Dmitry, Kata, check out the building. Make sure we are alone then give me a fix on the plane."
"Da, Arkady," Kata said, raising her AK to combat position. She eased her way around the corner into the main body of the terminal followed by Dmitry. Once they were gone, the mercenary leader reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a cigarette. "Mind?" he asked the disheveled Orlac. Nico chuckled, devoid of all mirth as his eyes danced lewdly up and down the terrified Doctor Moreno's body.
"You wear too much." Nico grabbed at her dirty lab coat. Moreno recoiled, disgusted. "Take off the jacket, Doctor!"
"Knock it off, Nico," Vasily said, annoyed. He shot a quick glance over at the group as he tried to watch out for Kata and Dmitry.
"What? You want a taste for yourself?" He grinned. "Just hold horses, Vasily. There is plenty to go around." He playfully grabbed at her clothes.
"Shut up, Nico," Arkady said as he lit the cigarette and waved his left arm in a short arc. "Vasily is right. We get aboard that plane, you can fuck her any way you want. We just need to focus on the mission at hand. This is the most important part, Nico. You screw up here, the only thing that you’ll be fucking is the end of my rifle. Get it?"
"I get it," Nico said pouting a little. "Arkady …" he said, leaning forward.
"Nyet!" The commander raised his free hand to stop the druggy-rapist. "Stop right there. Just do your job. That is all I want. Nothing more, nothing less. We are so close to finishing up this … this mess!" He took a long drag on the cigarette. "Just do what you were hired for," Arkady said, frustrated. If he had used a real team of spetsnaz instead of the group he’d settled on, this would have been done hours ago. He would be sitting on the deck of the yacht, drinking vodka and thinking about how to spend his payday. Now, he was just hoping to make it out of here alive. He took another drag and glanced over at Doctor Orlac, who was slow shaking his head. Arkady angrily smashed the cigarette into the palm of his hand and quickly field-stripped the remains. "Can I help you, Doctor Orlac?" he asked testily.
"I need to talk to you alone," Orlac said quietly.
"We can speak freely here."
"No." Orlac looked around the group. "In private."
"Well." Arkady smirked. He was expecting the doctor to plead with him or offer a bribe or some shit. "Come in to my office." The commander stepped several feet away from the others.
Orlac could see the questioning and disapproving looks on the faces of the other two scientists. He shrugged it off and stepped over to where the lead mercenary impatiently stood.
"Commander Arkady," Orlac almost whispered. "You don’t know what you have there." He pointed at the case that sat next to Vasily.
"Oh, I do, Doctor Orlac," Arkady said darkly. "That is why I am here. I do know what is in that case."
Orlac was taken aback by the mercenary's tone. "Then if you do, you realize how serious this is. How important I and the others are."
"Doctor, the first zombie rising nearly destroyed the major cities in Russia. The population centers were close to being devastated because the leaders wouldn’t acknowledge what was really happening before it was almost too late." He looked Orlac dead in the eyes. "I do know what is in there, Doctor. That is why I am here." The scientist shrunk back a little. "Do not tell me how important you are again. That would be a mistake." There was a deadly edge to the Russian's voice that almost made Orlac piss himself.
"Yes, yes." Orlac took a few steps back. He wanted to say something else, but he could see the darkness behind Arkady's eyes. "You will not have another problem with us."
"Good." The commander's smile was like a shark’s. All teeth and hunger. He reached in his pocket and drew out another crumpled cigarette. He chuckled as he clicked open his zippo lighter.
"These things will be the death of me," the commander said to himself. He slowly walked back over to the others and scooped up the biologic case. "Doctor," he said in a scolding tone as he grinned at Orlac and shook his cigarette at him. Moreno and Fulci looked over at their boss, who just stared down at the chipped tile floor. "You’ve been a bad boy," he said knowingly.
"Arkady!" Kata hurried back into the hallway. The rest of the surviving mercenaries jumped to half-assed attentiveness.
"Da, Kata." Arkady took a drag then dropped the cigarette to the floor, smashing it out with his boot.
"We have a fix on the Americans aboard the plane."
"Very good. Where’s Dmitry?"
"He’s still watching the plane for any movement. If we head along the back wall of the terminal and stay low, they can’t see us." She pointed deeper inside the terminal. "They have a sniper up in control tower and one at back of plane." She spat on the dirty floor. "Also zombie near far side of building."
"Yes? How many?"
"Maybe twenty or thirty. All fast ones."
"Okay. Nico, go get Yuri." The other mercenary grumbled and headed out the back to retrieve the younger contractor. "Doctor, keep your people quiet. Understand?"
"Yes," Orlac said barely above a whisper.
"Good. Kata, I have plan." He smiled. "Doctor Fulci, come here please."
CHAPTER 60: YOU’RE ONE NASTY FUCKER!
"I can’t see shit," Knox said into his headset. He was still up in the remains of the control tower, scanning the surrounding area with his binoculars. He gave his boonie hat a tug then rolled over on his back, resting the field glasses on his chest. He unscrewed the lid of a water bottle and greedily drank from it. "Poncho, you hear me? I don’t see anything but that damn smoke from the jungle." The fire from the lab was now enveloping the jungle and heading their way. "Poncho!" Nothing but silence. Knox rolled onto his stomach and peered through the field glasses to where Sanchez was. The aft ramp of the plane was about halfway down, and the other soldier had made himself a nice hide there. "Poncho!" Knox yelled into his headset. Silence. Knox got on his knees, still hidden by part of the tower, and pulled down his camo pants, exposing his bare ass to Sanchez. In the binoculars, Sanchez could see the other sniper's pale, white ass. "Can you see that, Poncho?”
"You’re one nasty fucker," Sanchez said under his breath. Knox giggled to himself then pulled his pants back up and resumed his position in the tower.
"Can you see that, Poncho?" Knox chuckled into his headset. Still silence. Frustrated, he ripped off the headset and tossed it behind him. "Cheap ass shit!" Tired, Knox pulled a small mirror from his vest and flashed it in Sanchez’s direction.
Sanchez lay prone on the aft ramp. He was covered in cargo netting and blankets. It was just enough to hide his form from untrained eyes. He wished he had better cover, but it was the best he could come up with on such short notice. Sanchez caught the flash of Knox’s mirror and raised a hand out of his hide so the other sniper could see it. Sanchez quickly signed, "Radio is dead." Knox flashed the mirror again in reply. Sanchez glanced at his watch and saw time was getting tight. He signed his concern to Knox. Again, Knox flashed the mirror in answer.
"Fucking substandard equipment." Sanchez slid the headset down around his neck. "It’s going to get us all killed," he muttered, returning to scoping the buildings. There was a hissing noise from behind him inside the plane's cargo hold. Sanchez spun around, swinging his rifle in front of him, ready to fire.
"Hey!" Jackson screamed like a teenage girl, jumped back, and threw his hands in the air. The Beretta that had been in his right hand clattered to the deck beneath him. "Don’t shoot," he squeaked.
"Damn, Mister Jackson!" Sanchez lowered his rifle and quickly crawled back into the cargo hold. He grabbed the pilot's weapon, stood up, and handed it back to him. "Startled the crap out of me!"
"I think I just shit myself," Jackson said, taking the handgun with shaky hands. All the color had drained from his face. "The headsets weren’t working, so I thought I’d come back here and see if you guys were okay. You okay?"
"Yes." He nodded slightly in the direction of the tower. "Gator's headset's fried too. It’s getting near go time, and no one has showed up."
"Nate's getting a little jumpy up there." Jackson bent down and glanced through the half-open aft ramp. He couldn’t see any movement on the tarmac. "I have to admit, so am I."
"Nothing to worry about, Mister Jackson," Sanchez said, trying to sound sincere. "You and Mister Crossley button yourselves up tight in the cockpit. I’m sure the major and the team will be back shortly. Just be ready to go as soon as they get here." He hit him on the arm reassuringly. "Major’s a tough old dude. I’m sure it’s just a matter of minutes." He hoped.
Jackson nodded in agreement. "Okay, Sergeant Sanchez. We’ll be ready to go. Nobody wants to get off this Godforsaken rock more than me."
"If you do see anything, Mister Jackson, please, please don’t sneak up on my ass."
"Hey." Jackson raised one of his hands, open-palmed. "I come down again, it’ll be with bells on! Man, that sounded gay."
"Sure did." Sanchez slid back into his hide. "But I won’t ask, you don’t tell." He shrugged. "Who am I to judge?"
