The Last Outbreak (Book 3): Desperation Read online

  Even before opening her eyes, she nodded.

  Helping her to her feet, Ethan looked around the room and realized he hadn’t quite been as discreet as he had planned. The others were already awake and now staring up at him. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to.”

  Interrupting, Ben flinched as he sat up straight. “Did someone say cereal?”

  “More than you’re going to know what to do with.”

  27

  As the others sat around the café tables, eating directly from the obnoxiously bright colored cereal boxes and drinking more caffeine than was probably safe, Griffin and Ethan stood at the back doors, staring out over the deserted courtyard.

  “I heard it when we first walked around the building, and then again when I sat out there with my mother. It’s faint, but it’s definitely there.”

  Griffin moved closer to the door, almost again touching his face to the immaculate glass. “Okay, first off, where’s it coming from?”

  “I thinking it’s close, couldn’t be more than a few hundred yards away.”

  “And,” Griffin said, “what at the hell do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know, maybe power lines, I used to hear something similar driving into town for work. There was a power plant near the midpoint of my route, we’d always hear that humming sound.”

  “Same as this?”

  “Not exactly, a little higher pitched, but similar.”

  Griffin turned and looked back into the café. “You know they aren’t going to want us to go back out there.”

  “Yeah, but I have a funny feeling that whatever that is may have to do with why there’s no one left in this town. If for some reason it’s not safe here, we may want to know about it sooner rather than later.”

  Griffin patted Ethan on the shoulder. “You gonna be the one to tell them we’re going out there to check on the funny noises?”

  “I was hoping you’d offer.”

  Standing at the rear door, Ethan checked his pistols and slid two reserve magazines into his front pockets. He turned to Frank, and then Shannon and Carly. “Griff and I aren’t going to take any chances. We’ll keep a large perimeter around ourselves and head back at the first sign of trouble.”

  “You know you’re being an idiot, right?” Shannon stood between Ethan and the door. “Your mother has asked me to remind you of that. She wants no part of this, and neither do the rest of us. Even if there was something out there that was going to bake our brains, one night in this place isn’t long enough to do any real damage. You know that.”

  “Yeah,” Ethan said, “but you also know we’ve got to check it out sooner or later, so why not get it out of the way now. Maybe it’s something; maybe it’s nothing. But either way, we have to know. Just give us twenty minutes.”

  Carly leaned in and hugged Ethan. “How about you make it ten, and I promise to convince your mother not to disown you?”

  Griffin reached for the door, unlocked the manual hasp, and pushed it open. “How about we split the difference. Give us fifteen before you totally write us off, does that work?”

  Shannon and Carly looked at one another and then in unison said, “Nope.”

  “Okay then.” Griffin stepped aside as Ethan moved through the doorway and then followed him out into the courtyard. Weapons out, they moved quickly to the rear wall of the hotel. It backed the hillside and sat in the shadows of the swelling afternoon clouds.

  Turning back toward the patio and then scanning the east end of the building, Ethan narrowed his eyes. He watched as Griffin followed the same path, ending just as both men looked toward the sky.

  “It’s not really coming from any one direction,” Ethan said.

  “Yeah, kinda like it’s coming from everywhere, like from above. And I’ll tell you one thing, it’s not power lines.”

  “Whatta ya mean?”

  “It’s too low, and if you listen real good, not consistent. Sorta rises and falls.”

  “Okay, so we take Main on foot. If we get out more than a mile and still can’t get a sense of where it’s coming from, we come back.”

  “I’m good with that,” Griffin said. “But then what?”

  “If it’s still a mystery by the morning, I’ll have to convince the others that you and I need to take the SUV out, and do a real search.”

  Griffin chuckled. “Good luck.”

  Trotting away from the property, the pair made their way west along East Main. They straddled the center of the street, keeping an eye out for anything that moved, but nothing did.

  Two blocks up and they’d reached an RV park. Not at all coming as a surprise, the lot, from front to back was empty. Anything not permanently affixed to the pavement had been removed.

  “Weird.”

  Approaching Green Valley Boulevard, Ethan moved off the street, crossed a short patch of grass, and continued to the single structure that was City Hall. He stood at the entrance, cupped his hands and peered through the glass double doors. Once again, not a single sign that this was even the same world he was living in prior to driving out of Colorado.

  Back to Griffin, who’d also left the street, Ethan pointed in through the doors. “Same exact thing here. Not even a single sheet of paper on the floor. Almost looks like someone just mopped them. I don’t think I’ve ever seen linoleum shine like that before.”

  Motioning toward the doors, Griffin reached for the handle. “They locked? Couldn’t hurt to—” His voice caught in throat as he turned back to Ethan. “Uh, I think there’s someone…”

  Moving to the door, Ethan again looked inside. Nothing. Reaching for the handle and brushing aside a hesitant Griffin, he slowly pulled back. Locked.

  “Ethan, I think I saw someone in there.”

  “Where?”

  Griffin paused, as if he was trying to remember. “Back… behind… back behind the reception counter. I think I saw someone move into the hallway.”

  “Okay,” Ethan said. “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t know Ethan, could just be my lack of sleep. Did you see anything?”

  “No, but I also can’t seem to place where that noise is coming from. Maybe you’re right, maybe we just need some sleep.”

  Griffin moved to the edge of the door, leaned in, and checked through the glass one last time. Nothing moved. “Yeah, I think we’ve been out here too long. Let’s head back.”

  28

  Standing on the opposite side of Las Vegas Boulevard, Dalton recognized the familiar face. The head of security for BXF stood six-feet five-inches tall and weighed somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred fifty pounds. Even from this distance, his features were undeniable. A face that had to have been carved from stone, arms like telephone poles, and if there remained even an ounce of fat anywhere on his body, he was sure to scare it off. The lifelong private security officer was quicker than men half his size, and possessed the strength of three average men combined. He was essentially the perfect weapon.

  Dalton wiped his forehead and turned to Goodwin. “Anton.”

  As the behemoth of a man marched toward them, he was flanked by a younger man Dalton remembered as Travis, and second man he had yet to recognize. They were both at least a head shorter and stayed in the larger man’s shadow. As the trio approached, Goodwin extended a hand and pointed back over their shoulders.

  “That our building?”

  Anton nodded. “Yeah, fire started yesterday, not sure how.”

  With Nicholas and Walter at his side, Goodwin addressed Anton as he looked back toward McCarran. “So, I’ve lost a twenty-five million dollar jet and a building worth ten times that amount in the span of a few hours? Okay then, where in the hell is my other plane?”

  Anton offered slight grin. “I’ve got some good news, some bad news, and some really bad news.”

  Goodwin hated games… even more than he hated that lead in. “I don’t care,” he said. “Just tell me how you plan to get me out of this hellhole of a city. This place smells like losers.”
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  Anton looked down on the older man like he wanted to smash him into the ground and walk away holding his teeth. “Your second jet, the one you left here three days ago, is still in the same spot you left it… behind an eight-foot fence. The only problem is that there are two to three hundred Feeders on the opposite side of that fence. Now, I can get you to the plane without much problem, but finding enough room to get that bird into the sky is going to be another issue altogether.”

  “Do we have access to a vehicle?”

  Anton nodded. This was going to be fun. He knew what Goodwin was looking for, but needed to do this. “Your Rolls Royce is parked inside the hanger, or did you forget?”

  Not impressed, Goodwin snapped back. “Do we have access to any other vehicles?”

  Smiling, Anton quickly turned to Dalton and then back to Goodwin. “You think I’d be out here walking if I had a Humvee parked across the street? No, we’ve only got one option, and you have a decision to make. Just how much is that Rolls really worth to you?”

  “At this point, not a damn thing.”

  Anton nodded. “Keys are locked inside the safe in the hangar, you okay with me driving your baby, or would you rather have your boy Dalton get behind the wheel?”

  “Get us back to Los Angeles and you can consider the car a gift.”

  Anton motioned back toward McCarran. “Alright, there’s a section of the southern entrance that was clear a few hours ago. It’s the only spot we’ve found that will get us onto the airstrip without being spotted.” Staring down at Dalton’s shoeless feet, he grimaced. “Don’t worry, kid. It’s less than two blocks from here. You’ll be on that jet resting those disgusting feet of yours in no time. I personally guarantee it.”

  Sarcasm wrapped in something resembling compassion. Dalton hadn’t spent more than an hour total in Anton’s company over the last year. So getting a true read on the larger man’s intent would be at best an uneducated guess. But, he didn’t care. As long as the behemoth got him onto the jet and back to the coast, he was good with whatever nonsense came out of the hole in his face.

  “On me.” Anton was running. Travis was on his right, with the yet unidentified third man close behind. Dalton moved next, cautiously in pursuit of the fast-moving trio. Goodwin kept pace as Nicholas and Walter brought up the rear.

  They moved quickly, staying within a few feet of one another, like a small herd of gazelle running crossing the savannah. And with the heat radiating off the asphalt, Dalton imagined the conditions weren’t much different.

  One hundred feet from the eight-foot-high chain-link fence, Anton began to slow, although just enough that the others could hear his every word. “The gate on the left is where we’re headed. It’ll drop us between two large commercial hangars. Once we cross over, you’ll need to stay close and remain absolutely silent; those things are close.”

  In between labored breaths, Goodwin attempted a question. “The jet, where is it?”

  Anton again increased his speed and as he reached the gate, he knelt where the two sides came together and pointed. “Outside our hangar, maybe a few hundred yards north of Sunrise Aviation’s building. You’ve been here before, you know where it is.”

  Sliding the half-inch Grade 304, Stainless Steel Chain off the support members, Anton laid a hand on Travis’s shoulder. “You’re with them. Get them inside that bird and then swing back around to the main runway. I’ll take Red and create a distraction. If those things get to you before we get back, just fly the hell out of here. I’ll drive that beast back to LA if I have to.”

  Travis nodded and then they were on the move again. He slipped in alongside Goodwin and said something that Dalton wasn’t quite able to catch. And striding up to the two massive commercial hangars, the group again slowed.

  Out in front, Anton held up a hand and turned to Travis and the youngest of the group he referred to as Red. “Slow through here, weapons at the ready, and not a word until we reach the opposite end. Sound travels through these structures like a warm knife through butter. Once we’re out in the open, you’ll see the fence over your right shoulder—stay low and focused. The plane is sitting alone near the BXF hangar. Let’s go.”

  He didn’t want to know what came next, what was waiting on the opposite end of the massive buildings. For the first time in the last few hours, Dalton had a brief moment where he wasn’t fighting for his life. The pain in his left foot was only marginally excruciating and although his stomach was twisted in knots, this time it was from hunger alone.

  The shade afforded by the two structures must have cut the surface temperature by a good thirty degrees, and as the group again started to move, Dalton slipped in behind Goodwin. The pavement was free of debris and much cooler than the unforgiving asphalt he’d been running on for a better part of the day. His right foot was still partially numb, and for now his left had stopped oozing blood, which for a day like today was a win. A micro-victory, but a victory nonetheless.

  Reaching the end of the shaded corridor, a private helicopter sat in front of the first hanger, partially blocking the view of the fence and what lay beyond. Anton craned his neck around the second structure and then turned back. To Red he said, “Let’s do this.” And then both men were gone.

  Before anyone left could question Travis on what came next, he motioned out past the helicopter and reached for his sidearm. “We go on three.” And glancing back at Dalton, he said, “Stay with us, at least until we get to the plane. I’m not willing to watch anyone else die today.”

  Dalton gave a weak thumbs-up and waited for the count.

  “Okay,” Travis said. “One… two… three.”

  29

  Maybe the whispered stories he’d heard of Anton were just that… stories. Maybe he wasn’t as demented as Goodwin described. Maybe his outward demeanor was simply a façade. Because from where Dalton was standing, the man now running in the opposite direction, while carrying an MP5 in his right hand and a Mossberg 590 over his left shoulder, along with his two-man wrecking crew, was keeping this group alive.

  Running away from the shadow of the twin hangars and ducking around the silent helicopter, Dalton moved out into the fading sunlight. He turned toward the glossy G280 and beyond that the eight-foot-tall chain-link fence. Something was wrong, and as the others turned toward the plane, he assumed he was the only one who had noticed.

  He wasn’t.

  Swallowing hard, his mind hadn’t fully finished making sense of just how screwed he and the others really were. Before this very second, he’d hoped that firing a weapon, firing the Beretta in his right hand, was something he was past. As the realization caught up with him, Dalton’s knees gave out and he dropped his only form of protection.

  His only thought as he lurched forward and rolled to a stop, one hundred feet from the luxury jet, was that if hell had been recreated, piece by piece, and then set down on earth, he was absolutely sure this is what it would look like.

  It was obvious that at some point since Anton and his men had left here, the horde had broken through the eight-foot-tall chain-link fence. They were told the crowd numbered between two and three hundred, but Dalton was sure that there had to be twice that amount, just between the hangar and the jet.

  As Dalton reached for the Beretta and got back to his knees, he looked over his right shoulder to see Walter also raising his weapon, Goodwin sweeping the muzzle of his shotgun across the approaching crowd, and Nicholas backing toward the helicopter.

  Pushing to stand, Dalton was tugged from behind and as he turned, Travis stepped forward. The younger man moved quickly from left to right, and retrieving a second pistol from his utility belt, handed it to the Nicholas.

  All five men were now armed; however, as the majority of the crowd took notice of their presence, the odds were far from being in their favor. And although the horde had lost all interest in the G280, and their numbers around the jet weakened, creating a path through the densely spaced corpses would be impossible.

  A
s the crowd continued forward, Goodwin and Travis stepped out first. Leveling their weapons, a low rumble ran through the dry desert air. Twisting left and looking back over his shoulder, Dalton backpedaled three paces as the blacked-out Rolls Royce Phantom raced across the blacktop.

  From the passenger window, the kid with the bright orange close-cropped hair fired one round after the next from his shouldered AR-15. Bodies from the outer edges of the horde were falling to the tarmac faster than others could fill in.

  Pulling his weapon from the open window, Red ducked inside just as the most expensive vehicle any of these men had ever seen plowed head-on into the first row of Feeders. Coming to a stop almost instantly, the heavy framed vehicle forced a dike into the flood of decimated bodies pouring in from beyond the downed eight-foot fence.

  Dalton started counting and was able to reach three before slowly, the oversized sunroof along the top of the Rolls began to slide back. Anton was the first to appear, and shouldering the Mossberg 590, he jumped out and knelt just behind the sunroof.

  Leaning forward and reaching into the vehicle, Anton pulled Red through the sunroof and pointed him toward the others. Stepping left and moving around the younger man, Anton leapt onto the hood, fired off three precise shots, and eliminated a trio of Feeders that had begun to climb their way onto the destroyed vehicle.

  Leaving the Rolls, Anton moved in between the next wave of infected and the men he was here to protect. But he wasn’t going to be able to handle the entire crowd himself, and as Travis and Red stepped in alongside, he shouted for Goodwin

  “GET IN HERE, IT’S TIME TO TAKE A STAND!”

  Before the behemoth had finished speaking, Nicholas had joined the men near the Rolls Royce and pulled off his white button down oxford. Tossing it aside, he readied the nine millimeter Travis had given him, peered down the line at the others, and nodded.