Read Online Transmission: Voodoo Plague Book 5 by Dirk Patton - Free Book Online
Authors: Dirk Patton
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approach them and ask for a ride?
Was that less of a risk than being stranded out here with murderous razorbacks
running around? She couldn’t decide.
They looked OK. Looked like nothing more than survivors
that were trying to make it to the safety of the west. Everyone couldn’t be
just looking to hurt their fellow survivors. Could they? Rachel lay watching
them, and her indecision became her choice as they got into the Bronco and
drove off to the west without even knowing she was there. Dog looked back to
the east and growled deep in his chest.
9
Captain Irina Vostov stood in the shade of the hangar door
and watched as a large crate was loaded into the belly of the giant Antonov
AN-124 cargo plane. The three American SADMs were well packed inside, the
wooden slats that made up the sides of the crate marked with severe warnings in
Cyrillic against opening or tampering with the contents. The lid was held in
place with a dozen large screws and tagged with a bright red GRU seal. If the
warnings on the sides didn’t discourage attempts at petty theft, the GRU tag
certainly would. Perhaps the SVR, descendent of the KGB, might not fear the
repercussions, but Irina wasn’t worried. GRU cargo was nearly sacrosanct in
Russia.
Along with her crate were dozens of other shipping
containers that held looted American technology, as well as a couple secured with
Kremlin seals. She had no doubt these contained luxury goods that had been
taken for President Barinov and his cronies. All of the crates and shipping
containers loaded and secured, one of the American’s Stealth Hawk helicopters
was slowly wheeled up the ramp by a large tractor. Its rotor blades had been put
into shipping position, with all of them turned in the same direction to extend
along the length of the aircraft then securely strapped to the tail.
She didn’t understand the reason for taking the helicopter
back to Russia to be disassembled, studied and duplicated. There were no adversaries
left on the face of the Earth that could ever hope to stand against the Russian
military. China and all of Asia was dead. India was dead. Western Europe
still had some pockets of life, but they were few and far between.
Despite the best efforts of the Mexicans, Central and South
Americans, the virus had jumped the quarantine zone and spread like wild fire,
stopping only when it reached the southern tip of Argentina. Other than
Russia, where the vaccine had been widely distributed to the population, only a
few select islands remained untouched. The largest of these was the island
continent of Australia.
Early on, almost as soon as the attacks on the United States
had happened, Australia had sealed its borders. All inbound air and ship
traffic had been turned away. And so far, it was working. The land down under
had not had a single case of infection. What at first had been sharp criticism
of the government for turning away refugees, in one case sinking a boat loaded
with people that refused to reverse course, was now praise. But Irina knew
that without the vaccine Australia was on borrowed time. The virus was loose
in the world, and there was no stopping it.
She hoped the American soldier to whom she’d given the
vaccine had made it safely to whatever his destination was, and that the
Americans were even now feverishly producing and distributing the inoculations.
Time was running out for them. She’d just seen a report that the Air Force
personnel being held in the local jail were starting to turn. Only eight of
them so far, but she knew this was just the beginning. The start of an
unstoppable avalanche.
The helicopter made it fully inside the cavernous interior
of the Antonov and the crew, under the sharp tongued instructions of the loadmaster,
set about securing it for the 6,000 mile journey to Kubinka Air Base just
outside of Moscow. A flight of 12 Mig fighter jets sat at the end of the
closest
Was that less of a risk than being stranded out here with murderous razorbacks
running around? She couldn’t decide.
They looked OK. Looked like nothing more than survivors
that were trying to make it to the safety of the west. Everyone couldn’t be
just looking to hurt their fellow survivors. Could they? Rachel lay watching
them, and her indecision became her choice as they got into the Bronco and
drove off to the west without even knowing she was there. Dog looked back to
the east and growled deep in his chest.
9
Captain Irina Vostov stood in the shade of the hangar door
and watched as a large crate was loaded into the belly of the giant Antonov
AN-124 cargo plane. The three American SADMs were well packed inside, the
wooden slats that made up the sides of the crate marked with severe warnings in
Cyrillic against opening or tampering with the contents. The lid was held in
place with a dozen large screws and tagged with a bright red GRU seal. If the
warnings on the sides didn’t discourage attempts at petty theft, the GRU tag
certainly would. Perhaps the SVR, descendent of the KGB, might not fear the
repercussions, but Irina wasn’t worried. GRU cargo was nearly sacrosanct in
Russia.
Along with her crate were dozens of other shipping
containers that held looted American technology, as well as a couple secured with
Kremlin seals. She had no doubt these contained luxury goods that had been
taken for President Barinov and his cronies. All of the crates and shipping
containers loaded and secured, one of the American’s Stealth Hawk helicopters
was slowly wheeled up the ramp by a large tractor. Its rotor blades had been put
into shipping position, with all of them turned in the same direction to extend
along the length of the aircraft then securely strapped to the tail.
She didn’t understand the reason for taking the helicopter
back to Russia to be disassembled, studied and duplicated. There were no adversaries
left on the face of the Earth that could ever hope to stand against the Russian
military. China and all of Asia was dead. India was dead. Western Europe
still had some pockets of life, but they were few and far between.
Despite the best efforts of the Mexicans, Central and South
Americans, the virus had jumped the quarantine zone and spread like wild fire,
stopping only when it reached the southern tip of Argentina. Other than
Russia, where the vaccine had been widely distributed to the population, only a
few select islands remained untouched. The largest of these was the island
continent of Australia.
Early on, almost as soon as the attacks on the United States
had happened, Australia had sealed its borders. All inbound air and ship
traffic had been turned away. And so far, it was working. The land down under
had not had a single case of infection. What at first had been sharp criticism
of the government for turning away refugees, in one case sinking a boat loaded
with people that refused to reverse course, was now praise. But Irina knew
that without the vaccine Australia was on borrowed time. The virus was loose
in the world, and there was no stopping it.
She hoped the American soldier to whom she’d given the
vaccine had made it safely to whatever his destination was, and that the
Americans were even now feverishly producing and distributing the inoculations.
Time was running out for them. She’d just seen a report that the Air Force
personnel being held in the local jail were starting to turn. Only eight of
them so far, but she knew this was just the beginning. The start of an
unstoppable avalanche.
The helicopter made it fully inside the cavernous interior
of the Antonov and the crew, under the sharp tongued instructions of the loadmaster,
set about securing it for the 6,000 mile journey to Kubinka Air Base just
outside of Moscow. A flight of 12 Mig fighter jets sat at the end of the
closest
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