Part 11 (1/2)
They waited. Minutes went slowly by with no movement. It was always like this after an encounter with them. Man wasn't meant to see the dead walk. Man wasn't meant to fight them either. Post-traumatic stress disorder was something that everyone suffered from these days, like the common cold. From the two-year-old that witnessed her mom being eaten by her father right before a SWAT rescue, to the old man that locked his wife in the bas.e.m.e.nt because he didn't have the heart to end her-they all suffered now, if they mustered the courage to remain living.
”Looks clear down there,” Billy said to Doc.
”Yeah, let's get down. We have thirty minutes until we need to start humping back to Hotel 23 and before the sun gets us.”
As they walked down the ridge, Billy asked, ”What do you think would happen if we didn't make it before sunrise?”
”I think we'd get made and might find ourselves the recipient of a five-hundred-pound warhead. We're obviously not welcome at Hotel 23.”
”I still don't understand why this group would want the carrier nuked.”
”I have no idea, Billy, but I do know they can hurt us during the day. And don't get Disco and Hawse worked up, but I'm not so sure they can't go high order on us at night.”
”Yeah, I was thinkin' it, just didn't want to say.”
The pile of corpses at the bottom was a gruesome sight, with some still twitching. Both were careful to avoid getting too close-a bullet to the brain didn't always mean the threat was eliminated. Even after trauma to the brain, the biting reflex was sometimes still present. Whatever caused the dead to rise didn't give up easily; even severed heads required extreme caution.
Doc pulled out his blade and cut the strings holding the flapping chute to the drop. The fabric fluttered up into the darkness on the whim of a night wind. Doc thought of a man o' war jellyfish as it drifted over the ridge area, dangling its stinger-like paracord strings.
There were white letters painted to the outside of the plastic wrap that held the drop together, but the elements and the wearing of time had made it unreadable. The drop rested on its side against a wedge of dirt. Doc swiped the plastic wrap with his blade, spilling the black hard cases onto the ground.
”Billy, get on perimeter while I check this out.”
”I'm on it.”
Doc started the unpacking process one box at a time, carefully, as if there might be b.o.o.by traps in the containers. He listened for the action of Billy Boy's carbine as he opened the containers-all quiet.
The first box contained a weapon that Doc thought curious, marked swarm control gun. The instructions were written in a simple manner, resembling the pictorial directions that one might find on how to operate a seatbelt in a commercial aircraft. The gun was somewhat c.u.mbersome, requiring the user to literally wear it; an ill.u.s.tration depicted a man wearing the gun attached to what resembled a harness.
The other boxes that Doc inspected contained the compounds that were required to fuel the gun. According to the doc.u.mentation, two different bottles attached to the gun. When the gun was actuated, it was supposed to expel a stream of foam at ranges of up to fifty feet. The two compounds mixed when exposed to the air and the foam would harden within two seconds. Doc read the cautionary note on the doc.u.mentation: WARNING: FOAM COMPOUND WILL HARDEN COMPARABLE TO CURED FIBER CEMENT/FIBER RESIN. USE EXTREME CAUTION WHEN AIMING. THIS FOAM WEAPON IS LETHAL.
As Doc continued scanning the instructions, he noticed a section mentioning the possible uses of the weapon.
-Immediate temporary immobilization of large groups -Immobilization of moving vehicles and heavy armor -Freezes doors and other access points -Chemical bonding of any material to another Doc estimated the gear weighed about eighty pounds in all. There was nothing else in this drop. Doc called Billy over to discuss the cost versus benefit of humping the extra weight back to Hotel 23.
After looking over the gun doc.u.mentation, Billy commented, ”Man, if this thing can do what it says, I'll hump it back myself. Our M-4s are good for running and gunning and the surgical wet work and all, but this thing might help against the likes of what we saw on that overpa.s.s. I wouldn't mind having a fire hose that can shoot instant concrete on demand, would you?”
”Yeah. We'll split up the gear and hump it back. But we'll test it out another night. We're losing night cover.”
After rigging the gear to their packs, they headed back to Hotel 23. Doc marked an X over this particular drop on the map, crossing it out. As they crested the ridge heading back, Doc paused.
Was that the sound of an engine in the distance?
He intended to ask Billy if he had heard it, too, but the wind s.h.i.+fted and the sound vanished like a fleeting thought.
22.
USS George Was.h.i.+ngton The carrier briefing room buzzed with bra.s.s. Admiral Goettleman and Joe Maurer sat at the table in front of the auditorium, facing the small group of officers and a handful of senior enlisted.
The admiral leaned over to Joe. ”Make sure the doors are secure. There's already scuttleb.u.t.t circulating about the deck plates.”
”Yes, sir.”
Joe sat up and told one of the officers in the front row to check the starboard doors before personally verifying the port and returning to his seat alongside Admiral Goettleman.
”All secure, sir.”
”Very well. Let's get started.”
The admiral tapped the microphone b.u.t.ton in front of him. ”Thanks for coming today-not like you really had anywhere to go.”
Some tired laughs ebbed around the room.
”The reason I have called this meeting is to provide an update on Task Force Hourgla.s.s. As most of you are aware, they are currently underway, onboard the submarine USS Virginia and a week from Oahu. As the TF commander, I'm privy to information relating to all phases of the Hourgla.s.s mission. All of you are read into the special-access program known as Horizon and what likely occurred in China, or at least what we think happened. Phase one of Hourgla.s.s has so far been a success, as Virginia continues steaming west with a team of special operators and consultants aboard. Phase two of Hourgla.s.s is about to commence-that is the reason we're here today.”
The admiral paused for a moment, surveying the small crowd while he took a sip of water. ”Phase two involves the Nevada specimens. The Continuity of Government has decided to run a test, exposing one of the specimens to the anomaly. We don't know if CHANG is of the same species as our specimens, but we still may learn a great deal from the experiment. At the very least we may find out why all of our HUMINT a.s.sets went dark not long after CHANG was moved to the Bohai region; at most we may find some way to return the contents of Pandora's box.”
The chatter in the auditorium began to roll in waves and thunder about. One of the officers in the back raised his hand.
”Go ahead, Commander,” the admiral prompted.
In a cautious tone, the commander began. ”Sir, we have no idea the effects this might have on the Nevada specimen's physiology. The Mingyong anomaly was measured by the Chinese at over twenty thousand years old. Our specimens were recovered in the nineteen forties. Was this plan really thought out by the COG or was this only a plan to throw an idea at the wall to see what sticks?”
The admiral glared at the officer. ”Well, Commander, I think you make good points, but COG folks with brains larger than ours and that are in power as the result of laws pa.s.sed by officials elected long ago have decided that this is the best way ahead. Besides that, I propose to you the following: What if Hourgla.s.s fails to succeed? What if the Virginia never makes it to China? Then what? These are all reasons we will conduct these experiments. Hourgla.s.s may not succeed.”
The admiral scanned the room, surveying reactions. ”Right now as we sit here onboard the USS George Was.h.i.+ngton, preparations are being made to extract one of the damaged specimens from long-term cold storage. I'll circle back to you on the findings.”
Wild chatter erupted throughout the auditorium.
Breaking through the noise, another officer asked, ”Admiral, what if exposing the Nevada specimen is the catalyst that causes the anomaly to jump airborne? We just don't know. It's uncharted territory!”
”So is the dead walking. That is all!” Goettleman barked.
”Attention on deck!” Joe called out, before the admiral stood and abruptly departed the room.
23.
Arctic December. Outside was a relentless bombardment of snow and ice. Crusow opened the heavy hatch to the unforgiving atmosphere. Not quite whiteout weather but close. No matter, it would be this or worse the rest of the year and into the next, until spring. If they waited on perfect conditions they'd die hungry and frostbitten. They were well into the long night; probably ninety days of dimness remained before the sun resumed its familiar arc.