V Plague (Book 11): Merciless (10 page)

“There’s 58 people at Alert.  Half are military.  The rest are all variety of scientific researchers.  That’s what our chief scientist has told us.”

I nodded, hoping he was right.  He may have rubbed me the wrong way, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see him, or any of his men, become infected.

“Do you know what’s happening in the world?”  I asked, hoping to change the subject.

“We’ve been monitoring comms from both the Americans and the Russians.  Full scale war is what’s going on.  You’ve launched some sort of super weapon that has devastated much of Russia.  Your Navies are locked in a battle across the globe.  Thousands of missiles have been launched, and chemical weapons are being deployed.

“Russia has struck back with nuclear weapons.  Most of their ability to launch has been destroyed, but they were still able to retaliate.  Two of the islands in Hawaii were hit as well as the Bahamas.”

“What?”  I said, cold fingers of dread wrapping around my heart.

Rachel was in the Bahamas.  I’d sent her there, on her way to Australia.  Thinking I’d sent her to safety.  The Captain looked at me, seeing the expression on my face.  For a moment, there was a softening of his countenance.

“Are you sure?”  I asked in a whisper, barely able to breathe.

He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a stretch of silence.

“Which islands?  Is Pearl Harbor still operational?”  I asked, shoulders slumping.

“Maui and the island of Hawaii,” he answered.  “The missiles inbound to Oahu were successfully shot down by one of your ships.”

“But the Bahamas…”

“Did you have someone there?”  He asked gently.

All I could do was nod.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “My family was in Montreal when the attacks happened.  It was one of the initial nerve gas targets.”

I managed to stop myself from asking why he hadn’t gone to find them.  His circumstances were his own, and I had no business judging him.  Or even making him feel like I was.  I hadn’t exactly made it to Arizona to rescue my wife.  The only reason she had survived was because she was resourceful as hell.

“You must be pretty special,” he said after several minutes of silence.

“What do you mean?”  I asked.

“There’s a plane on the way to pick you up.  Somehow, in the midst of a war, someone is coming to get you.”

I didn’t know what to say.  Couldn’t imagine that Admiral Packard had found the resources to spare a plane to save my ass. 

12

I was quite the curiosity to the military and scientific staff when we arrived at the station.  But station was probably being a little generous.  It was nothing more than a couple of dozen, very large metal containers that had been transformed into living and working spaces.  They were arrayed around a central hub that housed a cafeteria and common gathering spaces.

As we rolled up, I noted a long runway carved into the ice, a couple of maintenance and equipment sheds located next to it.  Beyond was a large area devoted to a variety of antennas, including a large radome for what I assumed was a Doppler radar system.  Then we drove into a cavernous, metal sided garage and I lost sight of the exterior of the camp.

The people living and working in the shadow of the North Pole probably weren’t used to visitors dropping in unannounced, especially after the end of the world.  When I was escorted across a long, snow covered path and into the common area, nearly all of them were waiting to see me.  I guess someone had called ahead.

The Captain was the senior military officer present, and though I could tell he didn’t much care for my presence at his station, he played the good host and introduced me to the more senior personnel.  One of the scientists pointed a laser thermometer at me rather than extending his hand to greet me.

“He’s clear,” he said to those gathered around him.

“What was that?”  I asked.

“Checking for indication of infection,” he answered.

“I’ve been vaccinated,” I said, greeted with shocked expressions all around.

“There’s a vaccine?”

A woman close to my age stepped closer as she asked the question in surprise.  I’d already been introduced to her, but couldn’t remember her name. 

“Yes,” I said, realizing that much of the information I knew had never been broadcast in a manner that they could have intercepted.  “I guess there’s a lot to tell you.”

“Quite,” she said, a slight British undertone to her accent. 

“First,” I turned to Captain Dumas.  “When is that plane due to arrive?”

“Eight hours,” he replied.

“Well, I think I have a lot to tell you,” I said, removing the parachute canopy and a layer of clothing that wasn’t needed inside the heated station.  “Before I start, can I use your comm gear to let Pearl Harbor know I’m alive and kicking?”

“They have already been notified,” Captain Dumas said.  “I am most anxious to hear what you have to say.  I believe we may still have some coffee.”

He turned and led the way down a narrow hall, then through a door into a relatively spacious cafeteria.  My stomach growled loudly when the smells of food being prepared reached me.  I asked my host for something to eat and was pointed at a serving line.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, and piled a tray with powdered eggs, freeze dried sausage and freshly baked biscuits.  Everything was bland, but it still beat an MRE any day of the week.

Sitting at a long table, I dug in as the Captain, a Warrant Officer and several of the scientists joined me.  The WO was the most senior non-commissioned officer at the station, and second in command of the military personnel.  While I ate, he took it upon himself to share a bit of the history of CFS Alert.

Alert was first opened in the early 1950s as a weather station.  Part of the Joint Arctic Weather Station (JAWS) System.  In1958, it began operating as a signals intelligence unit of the Canadian Forces.  

Canadian Forces personnel and Department of the Environment employees make up the entire population of CFS Alert.  They also maintain a geolocation capability and High Frequency Direction Finding (HFDF) facilities to support search and rescue as well as military operations in the Arctic.

During the Cold War, Alert was strategically important because of its proximity to the Soviet Union.  It is the closest point in North America to the northwestern area of the Soviet Union.  In fact, Alert is closer to Moscow than it is to Ottawa.  He said the last with a note of pride in his voice.

By this time, I had cleaned my plate and was gratefully cradling a steaming mug of coffee in my hands.  The feeling was just starting to return, and they hurt like hell, but I forced myself to endure the pain and continue to warm them. 

“You mentioned a vaccine,” the female scientist prompted.

I nodded and began speaking.  Told them everything I knew about the nerve gas-virus combination.  Talked about the vaccine the Russians had used to protect their population from infection and how it had been given to us by a defector.  When I was done, I stood up and refilled my cup before resuming my seat.  The scientists were full of questions, but I couldn’t answer most of them.  The ones I did, I wasn’t able to provide the specifics they were looking for.

“What about you?”  Dumas asked when there was a lull in the questions.  “Why were you on a Russian plane on your way to Moscow?”

“It’s a really long story,” I said with a sigh.

“It appears that we have plenty of time,” he said, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Frankly, I was getting a little tired of telling my story.  I’ve never been a big talker, preferring action to dialogue, but these people had just saved me from certain capture or death.  Two of them had died in the process.  They’d fed me, and despite being somewhat annoying, were treating me well.  I figured it was the least I could do to repay them for their help.

So I launched into my tale.  Started at the beginning, in Atlanta.  When I talked about Rachel, the pain at the thought of losing her threatened to twist my guts into a knot.  But I pushed ahead, describing everything I’d been through and being honest about why the Russians wanted me.

“Bloody hell,” the woman scientist said when I finished.

I nodded, looking around at the faces watching me.  Many of them reflected my own sense of loss.

“How is it you’ve managed to escape notice this long?”  I asked, wanting to change the subject.

“We’ve been very careful about transmitting any signals,” Dumas answered.  “Immediately after the attacks, we repeatedly tried to reach anyone who could tell us about conditions at home.  For a while, we were in communication with our chain of command, headquartered in Montreal, but in slightly less than two weeks they went silent.”

“That’s about right for the incubation period for the first outbreak of the virus,” I confirmed.  “The nerve gas release was devastating, but for a while there it seemed as if the survivors would be able to hold out.  Then a widespread outbreak hit.  Followed by another.  A total of three, I think.  I remember someone commenting that it depended on the person.  Some resisted for longer than others.”

The group seated at the table with me looked around at each other, fresh expressions of horror on their faces.

“Are there any survivors in Canada?”  A man at the far end of the table asked.

I looked at him for a beat, then glanced around before answering.

“The world is dead,” I said, forcing myself to meet their eyes.  “The virus spread incredibly fast.  It’s jumped to animals, too.  Birds and swine for sure, maybe other species.  I don’t know.  As far as I know, only Australia has survived because of how geographically isolated they are.  Hawaii was intact, before the Russians nuked them, and there were about 30,000 survivors evacuated to the Bahamas.”

“That’s all that’s left?”  Another researcher blurted.

“I’m sorry to tell you, but as far as I know, yes.  If someone wasn’t infected by the virus, they were killed by someone who was.  I suspect there’re a few other places like this with survivors, but there can’t be many.  What I do know is there isn’t
home
anymore.”

There were more shocked expressions, and several people began softly crying.

“We knew it was bad,” the WO quietly said.  “We had no idea it was this bad.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.  Sitting there telling them that everything in the world they cared about was gone wasn’t something I wanted to do.  But not telling them the cold, hard facts wasn’t right.  They needed to know.  Looking around, a thought occurred to me.

“How are your supply levels?”

I didn’t know a lot about remote stations in the Arctic or Antarctic, but I did know that they were completely dependent upon resupply deliveries of just about everything except maybe water.  There was a brief, uncomfortable silence.

“We are in minimal consumption mode,” Captain Dumas said.  “In fact, you just ate three days’ worth of rations.”

I stared at him in surprise, feeling guilty.  If I’d known, I would have managed to restrain myself.

“What’s your plan?”  I asked.

“Hunting,” he said, simply.  “Seals can be found a few kilometers to the south.  Not far from where we picked you up.  But it can be rather treacherous as there are polar bears about.”

“Polar bears?”  I asked in surprise.

“You’re rather fortunate you didn’t encounter one,” he said.  “They’re quite nasty tempered and will attack anything they encounter.”

“You’ve got vehicles,” I said.  “Aren’t there any towns farther south?”

“No.  The entire island is uninhabited other than three stations, of which we are one.  Of the three, Alert is the only that is permanently occupied.  Eureka and Grise Fiord are the other two, but both were shuttered for the coming winter when the attack occurred.

“We would normally receive a resupply flight every six weeks.  Food, fuel, medical and a few luxuries.  Personnel moving in and out.  We rotate our stores, keeping an eight week supply on hand at all times.  But we’ve now missed our third flight and the cupboard is growing rather bare.”

“It’s not all bad,” the female scientist smiled.  “I’ve lost five kilos in the past month.”

A subdued chuckle passed around the room and I suspected this had become a running joke.  Gallows humor.

“Why didn’t you contact Pearl Harbor?  Ask for help?” 

“We tried.  Several times,” Dumas shook his head.  “But all of the encrypted channels we had always used to communicate with the American military went unanswered.  We thought about transmitting in the clear, but were concerned over alerting the Russian Navy to our presence.  We have been monitoring many channels, and decided it best to stay undetected.”

“Now that we know you’re here, supplies can be sent,” I said.

“We asked when we notified them you had been picked up,” he said.

“And?”

“And were told that as soon as it can be arranged, we would be contacted.”

“That’s bullshit,” I said.  “Who did you talk to?”

“A Lieutenant in Hawaii named Stinson.  He seemed less than interested in our plight,” Dumas said.

 “Captain,” I said, standing.  “If there’s one thing you need to know about the American military, it’s that you have to talk to the right person.  And I happen to know the right person to get you some help.  If you’ll take me to your radio room, I’ll be happy to have that conversation.”

13

“Lieutenant, you have about three seconds to put me through to Admiral Packard,” I growled into the headset microphone I was wearing.  “Am I clear?”

“Hold one, sir,” the young sounding officer replied.

I was sitting in Alert’s comm center, having been escorted there by Dumas and the WO, who was named Skelling.  The Captain had ordered one of the operators to put me in touch with Hawaii, a moment later a bulky headset being handed to me.

“Major, it is truly good to hear your voice again,” Packard said a few minutes later.  “But I’m neck deep in a shooting war with the Russians.  What did you need to speak with me about?”