The Plague Years (Book 1): Hell is Empty and All the Devils Are Here (31 page)

“We are aware of it,” said Chad. “Amber won’t talk about it much though.”

“They don’t know much, it’s mainly dreams and compulsions. My original thought was it was delusions brought on by the high fever but all of them seem to have it and they are very similar in content. The thing is, when you are on ‘Slash’, you are pretty biddable. You want to do what ‘The Call’ says. The worse the infection, the more ‘The Call’ affects you.

“Fortunately for us and unfortunately for whoever is responsible for this, the more you are infected, the less cognitive ability you have. They can tell you to do something if you are infected, but if you are too far gone, you won’t have the wherewithal to accomplish the task. With ‘Slash, they can control your infection level.”

“So if you wanted to have a group of thugs do your dirty work, you get them high, then infected, and then become their supplier,” said Chad wonderingly.

“This doesn’t surprise you?” asked Terry.

“Our mutual acquaintance,” said Chad, “Special Agent Macklin, is apparently running such a gang. They were the ones who hit us. They were after Amber.”

“That fits the pattern we have seen. They seem to have a real need to capture those in remission,” said Terry. “We don’t really understand that need or the nature of ‘The Call’. But if you are in need of biddable henchmen, an infected person who knows ‘Slash’ keeps him or her sane is very helpful. We discovered it the hard way when we had a remission case here that became known first to family members and then to the public. The ‘Slash’ users tried to take the young lady in question. We were ready though and captured or killed most of the bad guys.

“We interrogated those who remained, but what got these folks talking is the fact we didn’t allow ‘Slash’ in the detention center for obvious reasons. They panicked and blabbed everything they knew, which wasn’t much, after the first of their number went psychotic and attacked his cell mate.”

“So is ‘Slash’ a good treatment then?” asked a hopeful Chad thinking about Phil and Margaret. “Can we actually cure folks with it?”

“It’s a palliative as I said earlier, it doesn’t even reduce the infection; it just calms the symptoms. Once treatment is suspended, the brain chemistry gets weird fast and they exhibit neurological symptoms within four or five hours. Once we figured that out, we have been using controlled doses of ‘Slash’ as a treatment for those infected inside the wire. It keeps them calm and controllable, but we make sure they know where their supply comes from.”

“How long does it work for?” asked Chad. “The treatment I mean.”

“Well, we don’t really know,” replied Terry. “The dose keeps ramping up but the effects stay the same. It’s not hard to make the stuff so we have used it pretty indiscriminately. The downside, at least for some, is that the drug gets you high, which is why people are addicted to it. It also means that for longer and longer periods, the folks we give the drugs to, are out in the ozone.”

“So Terry, while I am grateful for the information,” said Chad, “Is there anything I can use or anything you know that can help us prepare?”

“We believe they are coming for Amber again,” said Terry after a moment, “and this time, we think they have an armored car. They have found the MRAP that the Walla Walla Police Department in the area tried to disable, but apparently, Macklin, who by the way is missing and wanted for the possible bombing of a federal building, and his friends were able to get it running again. It was seen leaving the Walla Walla area and satellite imaging has tracked it to your area. It’s parked near a biker bar called Roban’s that this gang has apparently taken over as a headquarters. I wish I had better news.”

“What should we do?” asked Chad worriedly. “What are its weaknesses? Can we defeat it in anyway?”

“I need to get someone who knows about this stuff on the line,” said Terry. “I will be back in ten minutes.”

“Before you go,” said Chad quickly, “we have another case here that maybe you should hear about. There is a young lady here who has been fully infected but never exhibited all the symptoms, especially the psychotic ones. She has lasted far longer than the average sufferer. Is there anything we can do for her?”

“That is something we have seen as well,” said Terry. “There is a subgroup that stops short of full involvement. They are carriers but have varying levels of rationality. Some are bat shit nuts but just don’t die. Others exhibit physical symptoms but seem normal mentally, but we have no real therapy for this. We also don’t know how long they will stay in this condition, whether they will deteriorate or improve. I am sorry.”

Chad glanced over at Phil but he was looking out the window at his wife. Margaret was standing the backyard. Gone were the dirty, baggy clothes. In their place she was wearing yoga pants and a tank top as the temperature was already close to eighty. It was clear that before the Plague, she had been a nice looking, fit young woman. The window was open and it was clear she had heard it all.

“Hi, this Captain Whipkey,” said a bright voice on the line. “Remember me?”

Chad looked at the young man with very old eyes that stared back at him. He was thinner with circles under his eyes from too little sleep.

“I remember,” said Chad. “I thought you were an Air Force officer, Captain, why are you the expert on MRAP’s?”

“I am still an Air Force officer but I and a couple of other officers and a few retired NCO’s command a company in General Buckley’s new army. As it turns out, our new unit uses MRAP’s as Fort Lewis was in the process of disposing of a number of them. I still also do double duty as an aid for Colonel Antonopoulos. I was in the building and have the most current knowledge about de-milled MRAP’s.”

“So one of them rolls down my street intent on doing me and my family harm,” said Chad, “what can I do?”

“What kind of explosives do you have?”

Chad waved Dave over to the chair and left the camera cone.

“I am Major David Tippet, USMC Retired,” said Dave with more than a little pride. “I graduated from the improvised explosives course at Quantico. I can make some pretty big booms with household stuff but nothing very high energy.”

“It’s what I was afraid of,” said Captain Whipkey. “Unless you can make an EFP, the best you could probably do was blow a wheel off and maybe flip it over. The crew inside would probably be fine. More likely, they could drive it in your front door.”

“What’s an EFP?” asked Chris from off camera.

“Explosively formed penetrator,” said Dave without missing a beat. “I put a concave metal surface in front of a directed explosive charge that is big and hot enough. When I set it off, if I have fused it right, it turns the concave metal into a high velocity jet of molten metal. If I had some good explosives, I could take out an MRAP at a couple hundred yards, but I can’t make anything nearly energetic enough with what I can get at a hardware store.”

“My best advice then is to not be there when it shows up,” said Captain Whipkey.

“What about a raid?” said Dave. “I could whip up some thermite pretty easily. If we could get it into contact with the beast, we could melt holes in it pretty much anywhere.”

“Our satellite imagery shows that the bikers and other less desirables have taken over an area downtown maybe three blocks square,” said Captain Whipkey. “It looks like former special agent Macklin is living like a feudal king. Major Tippet, I have called your record up while we have been talking. You have been to all the right schools and I think you have the training to get close. Before your accident, it would have been a fifty-fifty shot, now, I am not so sure. They have roving patrols and someone is always in the vehicle.

“The turret was demilled and has no weapon in it but the latest photo shows that they are trying to install something. We don’t know what. I will reiterate that you probably ought to leave.

“There is someone else who would like to talk to you before you get off the line,” said Captain Whipkey. “Could you please put Dr. Strickland back on the line?”

Chad and Dave did musical chairs and when Chad got where he could see the screen, his old commander and friend Colonel Andy Antonopoulos was on the screen.

“I thought this call might be coming,” said Andy, “and we worked this through the brass. We will welcome you here at Fort Lewis, Dr. Strickland. Major Tippet, you will be more than welcome at your old rank. We can work out any details on other dependents later but they can all come and be part of the team.

“The downside is, we can’t come and get you. We have had a major issue with POL and until we get that worked out, fuel is scarce and what we do have, we are keeping for generators. If you can get to within twenty miles, we can send a convoy out for you. I am sorry it’s not more.”

“Thanks, Andy,” said Chad. “We need to think about our options. I will get back to you somehow on this.”

“I suspect it will be a bit before we see each other again,” said Colonel Antonopoulos, “so I would just like to wish you God speed. We will be waiting for the call.”

The screen went blank. Chad started at the empty screen with the Skype logo on it for a few seconds and then looked over at Phil.

“I think we are done here,” said Chad. “I’d like to thank you for letting us use your setup. Is there anything we can do to repay that?”

“Well,” said Phil, “do you have any ammunition to spare? We haven’t had any serious firefights but we have used our guns a few times to scare off some infected and such, and we have very little ammo. Heck, even the pistol my wife found has only six bullets.”

“What do you need?” asked Dave.

“Well, it’s mainly pistols we have,” said Phil, “Anything in .45 or 9mm would help.”

“Just a minute,” said Dave. “I need to talk to my friends here.”

Dave, Chris and Chad walked out of the house and as soon as they were out of earshot Chad spoke up.

“I’d really like to help them out,” said Chad. “Phil didn’t have to do this and he could easily bring Macklin and his stooges over here.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Dave. “I thought this might be the case. It so happens that 9mm is something we are long on. Both Chris and I have them but don’t shoot them much and I thought we might be having this discussion so I packed some things.”

Dave walked back to the truck. His limp was noticeable, but evidently Heather was making him rest and as a result he was getting around better. He opened the back door of his truck and pulled out some boxes and a long gun case and brought them over to the group.

“I have a box of .45 here,” said Dave as he showed the boxes. “It is usually the one I keep in the truck for hard times but they clearly need it more. I also brought a hundred rounds of 9mm as that is the most popular hand gun cartridge in the world. I suspect at least one of the pistols I saw in there was a nine. I also have here the shotgun my dad gave me when I was twelve. It is an old Remington break open single shot shotgun. It’s got a 30 inch barrel and was only good for duck hunting. I had been thinking about selling it because it’s been hard used and so not collectable. If Phil cut the barrel down, it would certainly add some firepower.”

“It was a gift from your dad,” said Chad, “I can’t ask you to give that up.”

“You aren’t asking,” said Dave with a smile, “I am offering. We have plenty of guns with the additions of Chris’s battery, and this thing is really of limited value. I would probably have had to leave it behind if we really do leave so better it goes to a friend. I will throw in twenty rounds of 12 gauge. We can spare that much.”

They walked back to the door and knocked. Phil, who had obviously been waiting right behind the door, opened it immediately. Dave handed him the gun case and the boxes of ammunition.

“Guys, this is too much,” said Phil. “I can’t put you guys at risk. I heard what you are dealing with.”

“The shotgun is my old duck gun from when I was a boy,” said Dave. “I haven’t fired it in twenty-five years. If you cut down the barrel, it would be fearsome at close range. The ammo, well we load our own. You’ll need it to keep that baby safe.”

“I am not turning it down,” said Phil with a look of wonder on his face. “Meg, did you see this?”

From around the corner of the house, Margaret peered around to corner with the first smile anyone had seen on her face.

“I saw,” said Margaret in a quiet voice, “thank you, gentlemen.”

“You are an impressive lady,” said Chad wonderingly. “It’s got to be hard, being that close to your child but not being able to hold her and then to go out in and among the infected to try and help. Others would have left or well … you know.”

“Not my Meg,” said Phil with more than a little pride. “She is as stubborn as they come and is the best mother little April could have. I would miss her terribly if she left. I am glad she stayed. We will make this work, I promise.”

At the end, Phil wasn’t looking at Chad and his friends, but into the eyes of his wife and soul mate. 

May 31
st
, Sunday, 11:24 am PDT.

Macklin finally got his wits together enough to stir out of bed. He had to take more and more Slash to keep the infection at bay and he had begun to take a rather large hit before bed as well as several smaller ones during the day. It helped keep his head clear during the day but he was sleeping later and later which was not good as he had to keep a bunch of fractious bikers, druggies and other ne’er do wells from destroying each other and sometimes, doing what he was ordered to do by his handlers. Even though his new ‘clan’ was not long on hygiene, Macklin took the time to wash and shave before leaving his room, which had once been the honeymoon suite in a cheesy motel.