Fulcrum: V Plague Book 12 (24 page)

The water was cold, which oddly I hadn’t noticed when the
waves were breaking over me on the beach.  I guess that’s what adrenaline
will do for you.  That, and it wasn’t ball shriveling cold, just a low
enough temperature to get my attention.

Pushing away from the boat, I began slowly kicking, making
sure my feet stayed below the surface.  Only my head, from my nose up, was
out of the water.  I maintained a close watch on the females as I inched
my way past.  If they spotted me, I planned to go completely still in the
water.  The head rig and goggles broke up the profile of my skull, and I
hoped that the dark water would help me appear as nothing more than a piece of
floating debris.  In case they saw me.

For once, Mr. Murphy wasn’t along for the swim.  Maybe
the water was too cold, or he was busy fucking up someone else’s plan for a
change.  For whatever reason, I cleared the area where the four infected
stood as still as statues and made my slow approach to the closest sport
fisherman.

It sat high in the water, thick ropes making it fast to iron
cleats on the dock that had about an inch-thick layer of paint covering
them.  From my perspective at the waterline, it looked as massive as an
aircraft carrier but was probably no more than 45 feet long. 

Pausing between the boat and the dock, I tread water for a
few minutes and listened carefully for the sound of any movement. 
None.  But then there could be twenty females right over my head, and if
they were all just standing there as still as the other four, I wouldn’t
know. 

Reaching up, I grasped the edge of the rough, wooden dock
and, an inch at a time, pulled myself up for a look.  The dock was
clear.  Turning my head, I checked the open deck of the boat.  Also
clear.  Cautiously, I lifted the loop in the thick line that was over the
cleat.  Once it was clear, I eased myself back into the water, letting it
float on the surface.

Bowline free, I made way to the rear and repeated the
process.  The boat was now untethered from the dock, and as long as I
could start the engines, it was ready to go.  Heading for the stern,
expecting to find a platform that would make it easy to climb aboard, I kicked
to give myself a push. 

I don’t know if it was a hunk of concrete, an old piling
from a past dock or just a submerged rock, but I managed to kick it straight on
with my bare foot.  The pain was immediate and blossomed up my leg,
causing my stomach to do a flop.  Somehow, I managed not to let loose with
the string of curses that wanted to come out.

Taking a breath and suppressing the pain, I made my way,
without any more kicking, to the stern and grabbed onto a low platform. 
Lifting myself, I took another look at the deck, then swiveled my head to check
the surrounding boats.  Nothing was moving, and I didn’t see any silent
sentinels waiting for me to make a mistake.

Pulling myself out of the water, I crouched on the platform
and drew my knife.  I waited for an alarm to be screamed, but all I could
hear was a steady drip as water drained out of my pants and back into the
harbor. 

The boat was designed for tourists wanting to fish for a
trophy.  It had a large, open deck with what was called a
fighting
chair
, bolted down near the stern.  Equipped with a harness, you would
strap in so if you hooked something really big it couldn’t pull you
overboard.  Beyond was a sliding, steel door that let into an interior
cabin, and probably the engine space below.

Sitting high on top of this was an open air bridge where the
boat’s captain would sit.  Rising up from that was a ten-foot-tall tower
with a narrow ladder leading to the top.  It would have been used by a
lookout who would be charged with spotting a good location for the customer to
fish.

I could see the bridge was clear of infected and had already
gotten a good look at the open space on the bow when I released the dock
line.  As long as there were no surprises inside, I was in good shape.

Moving forward in a crouch, I stopped at the door and waited
a beat.  Nothing other than tomb-like silence.  A millimeter at a
time, I slid the door open.  My knife was up and ready to be plunged into
the chest of anything that responded from within.  But again, Murphy was
giving me a break.  No screaming infected leapt at me, and I was able to
slip inside without a sound.

Not wanting any uninvited guests, I pulled the door closed
behind me and quickly searched several small cabins.  All empty.  Not
particularly clean or orderly, but I didn’t give a shit.  As long as the
damn thing would start and run, I’d be happy.

There was access to the bridge from within the main cabin,
and I climbed up.  Poking my head into the open air, I looked
around.  The four females hadn’t moved, and other than them, I didn’t see
anything to worry about.  Turning my attention to the boat’s controls, I
cursed internally when I saw an ignition switch that required a key I didn’t
have.

I thought about searching below, but doubted it would have
been left aboard.  Wherever the boat’s captain had wound up, it was probably
still in his pocket.  Not for the first time, I thought about Long. 
Wished he was here, and chastised myself for not having paid attention when he
was hotwiring vehicles.  But, I felt that I could start this.  The
switch looked really simple, and it should only be a matter of prying it out of
the panel and connecting the wires behind it.

But, first things first.  This boat had been sitting
for months.  Did the batteries still have a charge, or had they drained in
the summer heat?  And what about the fuel?  Was it still good?

There wasn’t much I was coming up with as a way to check the
fuel, but batteries are easy.  Descending back into the cabin, I flicked a
switch mounted on a paneled bulkhead.  Bright lights came on, and I
quickly turned it back off.  OK, I had power.  Now, as long as the
fuel was good and the engine would start after sitting for so long…

Digging through several cabinets, I finally found a small
tool kit that held a couple of screwdrivers and several different sized sets of
pliers.  I could smell dried blood on them, assuming they were used to
remove hooks from fish.  Returning to the bridge with them in hand, I set
to work removing the ignition lock.

It was easier than I expected, only a simple nut holding it
in place.  I worked slowly for fear of dropping something that would alert
the infected.  It came free, and I gently pulled it out of the panel, the
wires behind uncoiling smoothly.  Expecting only two, I sat and stared
when three of them stretched out from the panel.

Why three?  I’d already seen a push button on the panel
that was for the starters.  After nearly a minute, it occurred to
me.  Just like a car, the boat would have a
key on
position that
activated the power, and a second position for it to run.  I hoped.

Using my knife, I cut the wires away and carefully stripped
the insulation from their ends.  Holding the three lengths of copper away
from each other, I took a deep breath and another look around.  I
suspected that as soon as I made the connection, lights would come on all over
the boat.  And, anything electrical that wasn’t connected to an
always
on
circuit would start up.  If I was right, I’d be noticed the instant
that happened.

That meant the boat needed to start quickly and easily. 
If it didn’t, those four females would scream a warning as soon as they heard
the starters.  I’d have seconds before they could race down the dock and
leap aboard, and not much more time before others arrived.

If the engines started, the boat was already pointed at the
channel.  All I had to do was hit the throttle and motor away from the
dock.  But, if they didn’t, I was going to have to dive overboard and swim
to safety before the boat was swarmed.

That wasn’t a good option.  After I made it back to the
small boat, we’d have to spend a lot of time paddling back up the coast, then
traipse across the desert to the Tahoe.  Then, a slow drive south, looking
for another boat.  Hours I was worried the pilot didn’t have.  No,
this needed to work.  And I had one shot at it before the marina was
flooded with females, then we’d have no choice but to fall back to plan B.

Putting my ass into the captain’s chair, I looked around
again.  Still no change.  Focusing on the wires in my hand, I pinched
the three bare ends together and twisted. 

Lights all over the boat sprang to life, and low pitched
whine sounded from deep within the hull.  I hoped that was a fuel pump,
doing its job.  Glancing up, I saw the females look around, then turn in
my direction.  A second later, from somewhere on the boat, a stereo began
blasting mariachi music, loud enough to alert every infected in town.

The females screamed but didn’t begin running towards
me.  For the first time, I noticed that they were pregnant.  I
started to congratulate myself on that little bit of luck but cursed when what
sounded like hundreds of voices answered them from the streets immediately
surrounding the marina.

Reaching out, I stabbed the button and pressed hard. 
Starters whined loudly, even over the pounding music.  And they kept
whining.  The engines didn’t start.  I released the button as I
looked around.  Dozens of females were charging, leaping over the low wall
that separated the marina from a bordering road. 

I pushed the button again, willing the engines to turn
over.  And they did.  Once.  Then they coughed and went
quiet.  Goddamn it!  I hit the button again as I stood up out of the
seat.  The females were coming fast, and I was almost of time. 

The starters whined and this time, the engines began a
sputtering, stuttering idle.  The lead element of the females rounded a
corner and pounded onto the dock, no more than fifty yards away.  I had
seconds before they would be on the boat.

Engines still loping sickly, I shoved the throttles
forward.  Either this would work and bring them to a roaring life, or it
was time for me to take a dive.  They stuttered from the extra shot of
fuel and with a curse I started to move for the rail.  Before I’d taken
more than a step, they suddenly bellowed, and the boat lurched forward.

Caught unprepared, I was thrown against the rail and nearly
took an involuntary swim.  I managed to hang on as the boat rapidly
accelerated.  It careened off the wooden dock, shoved onto a new course
directly for a large group of rocks sticking out of the water.

Fighting the acceleration, I pulled the throttles back and
cut the wheel sharply.  I don’t think I missed the rocks by more than mere
inches, but I missed them.  Behind, the females were in a full throated
scream as they came to a stop at the end of the dock.

Boat back under control, I resumed the captain’s chair and
pointed the bow at the entrance to the channel.  Feeding in a small amount
of throttle, I motored forward at a slow pace as more females appeared on the
strips of sand that lined the channel and began following me.  Waving at
them, I accelerated slightly and let out a breath I didn’t remember holding.

“Sir!  It’s working!”

Commander Marx burst through the door, ignoring the dirty
look he received from one of the nurses.

“What is?”  Admiral Packard asked through gritted
teeth.

He had finally relented and gone to the hospital to have his
injury properly cleaned and treated.  Seated on an examination table, he
grimaced as the Doctor re-inserted a pair of long-nosed forceps deep into his
arm.  The Russian bullet had passed through his uniform sleeve, carrying
fragments of the material into the wound channel.

“The message we broadcast.  Word just came from a
reconnaissance flight.  A widespread mutiny has broken out in the enemy fleet. 
Fighting on the ships.  Nearly half of them have broken away and are
steaming north, for home!”

The man’s enthusiasm was infectious, a broad smile breaking
out across the Admiral’s face.

“What about the remainder?”

“They are still coming, but I’m hopeful the mutiny will
spread.  Forgive me, sir.  I let my excitement get the best of me and
ran ahead to tell you.  Commander Detmer is on his way with a complete
briefing.”

“No apology necessary, Commander,” Packard said. 
“That’s the first good news I’ve received in some time.”

The door opened, and he looked up to see Detmer poke his
head into the room.  The Admiral waved him in as Marx stepped to the side.

“I’ve heard the good news, Commander,” the Admiral
began.  “Now.  Give me the bad.”

“The Russian fleet, though drastically degraded, still has
enough men and firepower to seize the islands, sir.  Not as easily as they
would have, but we’re not out of the woods.  However, current assessments
of their capabilities indicate we can hold the high ground.”

“Holding the high ground is only good for a short time,
Commander,” Packard growled.  “Until they starve us out.”

“Agreed, sir.  But, if your little surprise doesn’t
work, that’s the best we can hope for at the moment.  The Army and Marines
have nearly completed the fortification of the old defensive positions and are
prepared to meet enemy ground forces in the valleys leading up Mt. Kaala. 
And, at last count, over ten thousand civilians have joined the defense.”

“That is encouraging!”

“Yes, sir, but most are only armed with knives and
clubs.  We’ve emptied our armories, but there just weren’t enough rifles
to go around.  The civilians were mostly unarmed because of local gun
laws, but they’re still willing to face the Russian invaders with their bare
hands if need be.”

“Understood, Commander.  What’s the status of
evacuating base personnel?”

“Ninety percent complete, sir.  Only essential staff
remain and we are beginning to move them in phases.”

“Any word from Captain West on the efforts to restore the
Battlespace program?”

“I just came from there, sir.  Seaman Simmons is still
waiting for the latest version of her code to complete.  She estimates
four more hours at a minimum.”

Packard glanced up at a clock on the wall.

“What’s the latest ETA for the invasion fleet’s arrival?”

“We’ve already begun engaging Russian aircraft four hundred
miles north, sir.  Losses are heavy on both sides.  Unless the mutiny
spreads further, or we can find a way to stop them, the first ships will be in range
of our land-based guns in twelve hours.”

Packard absorbed the information, slowly nodding his head.

“Anything else, Commander?”

“No, sir.  And, sir?  You’re scheduled for the
next evacuation wave in twenty minutes.”

“Is that the last wave?”  Packard asked in a low voice.

“No, sir.  There will be four more after that.”

“Then I’ll be leaving after the last one,” the Admiral
barked.  “The goddamn Russians may have forced us to abandon Pearl, but
I’ll be damned if I’m stepping foot off this base as long as there’s a single
man or woman remaining.”

“But, sir…”

“I believe I was clear, Commander!  Dismissed.”

Packard glared at the younger man as he snapped to attention
before doing an abrupt about face and quickly departing. 

“He has a point, sir,” the Doctor said once Detmer had left
the room.  “We all need you.”

“Pardon my language, Doctor, but that’s not fucking
happening.”

“Aye, aye sir,” the man said as he began the first stitch to
close Packard’s wound.