Garrett scowled as the lumbering whale of an aircraft pulled to a stop, shut down its two inboard engines, and opened its back ramp. Garrett walked toward it, lighting a cigar as he went, and when he noticed the first person to exit the back of the Herc was a civilian woman — in a skirt, of all things — he muttered two simple words. “Fuck. Me.”
To make Garrett’s moment even more special, he watched four additional people in various combinations of civilian attire come plodding down the Herc’s ramp.
The sergeant major came running up from behind, matching his commander’s stride as Garrett made a beeline toward the skirt-clad sandbox crapper. “Sir, we received instructions to let this bird land and give the people on board whatever support they require,” the sergeant major said, huffing, short of breath.
Garrett wheeled on his sergeant major. “Instructions from whom?”
“Direct call from General Worthington. From the Pentagon. A few minutes ago. Sir.”
“Worthington. Great.” Hoffman took a long draw on his cigar, and cursed when he realized it had already gone out. He tucked it into his ACU blouse pocket. “Did General Worthington happen to mention who these people are?”
“No, sir.”
Garrett spat a piece of tobacco as he watched the civilian woman inventory her gear as it was unloaded from the back of the C-130. She was having a hard time keeping her hair from blowing in her face from the rotor wash of a Chinook landing nearby, and she was desperately trying to keep her skirt from ending up around her neck. For a second, Garrett thought she looked like a brunette Marilyn Monroe standing over a steam vent… and he couldn’t help but register the fact that this lady had one hell of a set of legs. “All right, Sergeant Major,” Garrett growled. “Let’s go find out what kind of fucking support they need.”
Carolyn’s team’s gear was offloaded quickly, and the unmarked C-130 immediately closed its ramp and taxied toward the active runway. The small group of civilians huddled around their equipment and sheltered their eyes from the propeller wash as the big Herc pulled away.
Carolyn fumbled in her jacket for the orders she’d been told to provide to whoever was in charge at the airport. From the urgent manner of the two men walking toward her in Army camouflage uniforms, she figured they must be the ones.
“Ma’am, I’m Colonel Hoffman. This is Sergeant Major Wallace.”
Carolyn stuck out her hand and was a little surprised that it wasn’t taken immediately. After what seemed like an eternity, the tall one with the silver eagle insignia on his hat — a full-bird colonel, she knew — took her hand and shook it. Very firmly. “Colonel, I’m Carolyn Ridenour,” she said.
“Good,” Garrett barked. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, you can tell me why you’re here.”
Well, he’s a direct bastard, isn’t he, Carolyn thought to herself. She handed him a copy of her orders. “I’m here under orders from General Derek Rammes.”
Behind them, the unmarked C-130 thundered back into the air.
Garrett scanned the orders and handed them back, disgust crossing his face.
Carolyn waited a few seconds for the colonel to say something. He didn’t. “Is there something wrong?” she asked. “I was told the vice chief of staff of the Army was going to call directly to explain my team’s arrival. General Worthington?”
“Worthington called,” Garrett said, shaking his head. “You’re a little late, Ms. Ridenour. The city is clear.”
“The city is clear?” Carolyn was shocked. Her stomach sank as she watched the C-130 bank to the southwest, climbing away.
“Yes, the city is clear. No chemical, biological, or radiological agents found.” Garrett looked up at the speck in the sky that had been the unmarked C-130, clearly frustrated that he now had to deal with a bunch of stranded civilians. “And there went your ride.”
Carolyn’s first assignment as a team leader wasn’t supposed to pan out this way. She could feel her team members staring at her, waiting for her to do something. Problem was, she wasn’t sure what to do. “Well, Colonel,” she said defiantly, “it looks like you’re stuck with us for the time being.”
“No, ma’am, I’m not,” Garrett said. “We’ll have a truck for you and your team available within the hour. Sergeant Major, take these people to the terminal and have their gear—”
“The gear stays with us, Colonel,” she interrupted. If you’re going to be an ass, Carolyn thought, then I’ll return the favor.
Garrett narrowed his eyes at her. “Like I was saying, Sergeant Major, have their gear taken with them to the terminal.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ms. Ridenour, it’s been a pleasure. But I have work to do. Good day.” With that, Garrett strode off to take care of more pressing matters. Carolyn’s gaze burned dual holes into his back.
“Ma’am, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the terminal and get you and your team settled until we can schedule transportation for you out of here. I’ll have your gear brought up to you.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Major.” In a small way, Carolyn was glad she wouldn’t have to work with Colonel Garrett Hoffman after all. What an asshole.
CHAPTER 12
An hour and fifteen minutes after Carolyn and her team were stranded at the airport, the first troops entered the city. On foot, they moved from house to house, building to building, slowly moving toward the center. AH-64 Apache gunships prowled overhead, looking for targets. Higher in the early evening sky, an AC-130U Spooky gunship slowly circled, awaiting a call for fire support.
Structure by structure the troopers went. Looking in the corners. Looking in the basements. They found more evidence of the night’s terror. Pools of congealed blood. Torn clothing. Small bits of what used to be people.
But nothing more.
This was going to take some time.
In the western sky, the bright orange orb of the sun kissed the horizon, signaling the end of one of the worst days in American history.
Carolyn stared at the TV, wondering when she’d be able to get her team on the road back to Dugway. The televisions in the KCI terminal had been left on, and every single news channel was replaying the president’s address from earlier in the day.
“… and take care of the people who have been affected. These animals, described as some sort of large rodent, are still in the city. As of now, they’ve stopped their spread and are remaining stationary. We believe they have an aversion to light…”
Carolyn hadn’t learned all the facts of what had happened in Kansas City until she’d seen the president’s speech and watched the news. When she and her team had left Dugway, they were briefed that there might’ve been a biological or chemical attack in Kansas City — she was prepared for that. She’d been a team member in Cleveland and had a good idea of what her team was going to have to do once they landed. During the flight from Las Vegas, they’d been given no additional information and apparently hadn’t been pulled off the assignment once the city had been declared clear. Frustrating, but understandable. Communications in a situation like this — with thousands of different messages flying to and from a hundred different places… Well, sometimes the ball gets dropped. Obviously, someone dropped hers.
As Carolyn watched the president’s address for the third time, something suddenly dawned on her. He said the attacks were from some sort of animals, and they hid in the buildings when the sun came out. No, not just animals… Large rodents. A mutation? And they’re afraid of light? She whispered to herself, “The spread stopped… when the sun came up?”