Voodoo Plague - 01 (23 page)

I woke up at
midnight, still tired and groggy, for a moment not remembering where I was. 
Looking over at the woman sleeping next to me it took a moment for my mind to
remember why I was seeing someone other than Katie, then everything clicked
back into place.  I let out a quiet sigh and carefully climbed out of the bed
so as not to disturb Rachel who had taken to sleeping with me ever since I had
rescued her.  There wasn’t any cuddling or spooning, in fact we never touched,
but every time I woke up she was there on the far side of the bed. 

Standing up I
stretched and Dog jumped off the foot of the bed where he’d been curled into a
surprisingly small ball for a dog his size.  I made my way out of the salon and
to the stern rail where I pissed over the side into the lake while Dog
watched.  Zipped up I checked the flying bridge, glad to see Mayo on watch.  He
wore one of the sets of night vision goggles from the Pave Hawk and looked like
an alien out of a low budget Sci-Fi flick from the 60s.

Climbing the short
ladder I joined him, wanting a cigarette but resisting.  The flame from a
lighter would destroy my night vision and could be seen for miles, standing out
like a beacon to any hostiles.  Mayo nodded when I slipped into the seat next
to his, but didn’t seem to feel the need to talk. 

The night was
warm with a slight breeze blowing, pushing small wavelets across the lake’s
surface which softly slapped against the cruiser’s hull, the sound almost
mesmerizing.  Clouds obscured the moon and it was nice and dark.  Another
reason to move tonight.  We had two more set of NVGs from the Pave Hawk and the
darker the night the more of an advantage we would have.

Less than a
minute later I heard the speedboat engine start and settle to an almost
inaudible rumble.  I turned and peered through the darkness to where the
speedboat was tied up to the houseboat, but couldn’t see anything.  Mayo had
turned as well to look and reported that Blake and the LT were on their way
over before resuming his scan of the open lake.

It only took a
moment for them to cross the short amount of open water and I felt a slight
bump as they nosed up to the cruiser’s stern and tied off.  The engine cut off
and first Anderson then Blake climbed over the stern rail.  Slapping Mayo on
the back I went below to greet them.

We met on the
deck and Rachel stepped into the doorway, yawning and rubbing the sleep from
her eyes.  It was too early to think about launching, so we made some coffee
and sat out in the darkness and talked.  Anderson talked about his family, glad
that his parents were already gone and weren’t having to live through the hell
of the attacks.  He had a sister who had moved to France the previous year to
pursue her dream of becoming a painter and he assumed she was OK since there
was no word that Europe had been attacked.

We had already
learned that Mayo was from Atlanta, having joined the Air Force to escape abject
poverty with no opportunities.  His mother was his only family and he was sure
she was either one of the infected or had died when Atlanta had burned.  When
asked by Rachel, Blake told us he was from a big family in Brooklyn.  That
killed the conversation and we sat sipping bitter coffee in silence for a bit. 
Tired of waiting I decided that there was no reason we couldn’t jump off a
little earlier than planned.  It was after 0030, 12:30 AM civilian time, and I
called Mayo down to the deck so we could go over the rough and simple plan I
had made. 

We would all be
on the cruiser at first, heading south towards the marina with a slight bearing
to the west to hopefully bring us close to the amphibious air service noted on
the map.  When we were about three miles from the shore the cruiser would cut
engines and go silent.  Anderson, Blake and I would move to the speedboat, Mayo
and Rachel turning the cruiser around and returning to where we were currently
anchored.  I had originally wanted to take the speedboat the whole way, but
Blake warned that the jury rigged exhaust suppressors would only hold up for so
long at any speed over about ten knots.

For the trip
south he would loosen the retaining straps that were attached to the hull and
pull the ends of the flex hose out of the water so the cruiser could tow the
speedboat at a faster pace.  The cruiser was a luxury boat, and the people that
could afford it didn’t want to listen to a loud engine so it was well muffled
and relatively quiet at any speed under full throttle.

Once on the
speedboat the three of us would make a low speed run into the shore to look for
a plane that could fly all of us out of there.  Each of us would have NVGs,
Blake manning the machine gun, me piloting the boat and Anderson along for the
ride until we acquired a plane for him to fly.  I didn’t like leaving Rachel
and Mayo without NVGs, but didn’t see a viable alternative.  We needed them for
combat, or hopefully to avoid combat, and all they had to do was pilot the big
cruiser back across the lake and drop anchor.

With everyone
acknowledging they were ready I suited up in my tactical gear while Blake
leaned over the stern of the speedboat and worked the flex house exhaust tubes
up out of the water.  Climbing back aboard he gave a thumbs up, stepped into
the salon for a moment and returned with two lit cigarettes cupped in the palm
of his hand.  Handing one to me he met my eyes and gave me a nod, letting me
know he was ready to go into battle with me.  I glanced around the deck to make
sure we were ready to go then climbed the ladder to the flying bridge, started
the engine and hit the switch to raise the anchor.

The instrument
panel gauges were covered with duct tape again and the night was dark as I spun
the wheel to point us to the south and slowly fed in throttle.  The big boat
started moving, the speedboat in tow at the end of its tether and I kept
advancing the throttle until a peek under the duct tape at the gauge showed we
were making about 18 knots.  Rachel stood next to me on the bridge using a set
of borrowed NVGs to scan the horizon for any threats.  She hadn’t said much
since we woke up and was still uncharacteristically quiet.

“What’s on your
mind?” I asked, taking the last drag of the cigarette and crushing it out below
the instrument panel where the faint light from the burning tobacco wouldn’t be
visible to anyone scanning the lake.  She didn’t say anything for a moment,
then pushed the goggles up onto the top of her head and looked at me.

“Just
remembering the last time you left me alone on the boat.  No biggie.  I’ve got
Mayo and Dog this time so everything will be fine.”  I was trying to find the right
thing to say but she continued before I could speak.

“I’m worried you
won’t be coming back.  You barely survived saving me, and I know you’re still
not close to 100%.  Not sure I want to try to survive this on my own.”  I
didn’t know what to say to that so I settled for reaching out and taking her
hand in mine.  We stayed like that, holding hands, until I cut the throttles
when the cruiser’s navigation system showed we were three miles off the shore. 

On the shore to
our left was the camp Anderson had described, brightly lit and shining across
the water like a beacon.  I raised the binoculars and took a look.  Apparently
the lights were also a beacon for the infected which pushed up against the
barricades in throngs too large to even begin to count. 

The walls
protecting the camp looked to be made of boat trailers turned on their sides
with steel plates welded to them and stacked two and three trailer widths
high.  On the inside of each trailer a steel strut had been welded at a
forty-five degree angle from the higher edge of the trailer to the ground where
it provided bracing against the constant push of the infected.  Makeshift
watchtowers had been built and I could hear the occasional report of a rifle as
some sentry shot an infected.  I was too far away to tell, but my guess was
they were having to watch for and shoot the much more agile females when one
would find a way to start climbing the outside of the barricade.

Still using the
binoculars I scanned the shore to the west, but it was too dark to make out any
details and the NVGs weren’t any good at this distance.  We’d have to get in
close to the shore and hope the map wasn’t wrong or just grossly out of date. 
I started to climb down the ladder but Rachel stopped me with a hand on my
arm.  I met her eyes, smiled more jauntily than I felt and quickly made my way
down to the deck.

Blake was
already in the speedboat, reconnecting the flex hoses and Anderson was
nervously checking and re-checking his pistol’s load.  Mayo stood at the bottom
of the ladder, waiting for me to clear the bridge so there would be room for
him.  Stopping in front of him I looked him in the eye.

“I’ll keep her
safe,” he said.  I nodded, clapped him on the shoulder and herded Anderson into
the speedboat.

Blake had the
exhaust back in place and as I settled into the driver’s seat he kneeled down
in the bow, released the line tethering us to the cruiser and reached up and
pulled the charging lever on the machine gun.  Anderson settled into the seat
next to me and I hit the boat’s starter.  Blake gave a push to get us clear of
the larger boat then I gave the motor a couple notches of throttle and headed
to shore.  Behind I heard the cruiser’s motor start as Rachel and Mayo headed
back north.

I kept our speed
down to just under ten knots until we were a mile from shore, then dropped us
down to five knots to reduce our noise as much as possible.  Next to me
Anderson continually scanned the shore with a pair of binoculars that had come
from the houseboat, looking for a seaplane depot.  Half a mile from shore I cut
the throttle back to idle and the boat slowed to only a couple of knots.

I was steering
us parallel to the shore, heading away from the barricaded compound to give
Anderson a good view of the shore when I heard the boat motor behind us. 
Looking over my shoulder the NVGs let me clearly see a small boat heading out
of the marina and in our general direction.  Three men were on board, one
driving and the other two sitting in the bow with rifles held pointing
skyward.  They were a still a good distance away, but the military grade NVGs
allowed me to make out that they were also wearing night vision.  I had no way
of knowing if they’d managed to get their hands on some military grade hardware
or if they were using the much lower resolution units that can be purchased in
any sporting goods store.  If they had military units then they would spot us
any moment, otherwise we were well outside their range.

Anderson
suddenly sat up straighter and stared through the binoculars at a point on the
shore, then pointed excitedly.

“There,” he
said.  “I can see a large hangar with a concrete apron that runs right down
into the lake.  That has to be it.” 

“Can you see any
planes?”  I asked, keeping my eyes on the approaching boat.

“No, but they could
very well be in the hangar.  If I had a hangar available I wouldn’t leave a
plane sitting out in the weather.” 

I pushed my NVGs
up onto my head and took the binoculars from him, looking where he pointed.  He
was right.  A large hangar sat about fifty yards back from the edge of the
water with a concrete apron that ran from the hangar all the way down to the
water.  There was a large sign over the hangar doors, but it was too dark to
make out the lettering.  The place appeared to be deserted with no sign of
survivors or infected.  Making my decision I bumped the throttle forward and
pointed us at a small dock that jutted out into the lake at the edge of the
apron.

“We’ve got a
problem,” Blake called out from the front of the boat.  “The noise they’re making
is attracting infected and they’re bringing them right down the shore with
them.”  He gestured at the boat that had appeared behind us.

I looked at the
boat coming our way, its exhaust loud across the water, then checked the
shoreline to see dozens of infected stumbling along as they stared out across
the water at the source of the noise.  At their current rate they’d be at the
hangar just a few minutes after we arrived.  Not good.  I had no idea how long
it would take us to break into the hangar and get a plane ready to go. 
Anderson was confident that any plane we found would be fueled and ready to
fly, but I didn’t want to count on it.  Shit!

Keeping the
throttle where it was I spun the wheel and pointed us out to the open lake.  I
didn’t know if these guys were a patrol or just some assholes who decided to
take a late night joy ride, but the last thing we needed was them bringing a
pack of infected down on our heads while we were trying to get a plane in the
air.  This is what happens when you don’t have time to do reconnaissance and
gather intelligence. 

We had just
settled on our new course that would take us away from the shoreline when the
sound of another motor roared from the direction of the marina.  All of us
looked to our right and saw a bass boat – what was it with these guys and bass
boats? – quickly gaining speed and heading directly towards us.  Three armed
men accompanied the driver and one of them raised a giant spotlight and turned
it on, swinging it in our direction.  They’d spotted us from shore.  Someone
had some military issue hardware.  Well, so did we.

“Light ‘em up, Tech
Sergeant,” I said, spinning the wheel and accelerating to put the new boat
directly in front of us.

Blake stood up,
grasped the machine gun with both hands, swung it a little up and to the left
to adjust and squeezed the trigger.  The gun started hammering and Blake
adjusted fire as red tracers lanced out and splashed into the water to the
boat’s right.  There were shouts of panic from the boat and the driver turned
the wheel to try and avoid the incoming fire, but Blake adjusted with him and
shredded the boat and the four men aboard.