Supercritical Page 17

  “Got captured in a big fight over a little airstrip about a year or so back. They interrogated me until they realized I was a convict and didn’t know shit. Then they threw me into a Chink prison. Prison doctor prescribed these little babies for me. I take ’em when I’m working.”

  “You escaped?”

  “Obviously. About ten months ago. Been running around fucking up the Chinks’ program for a while now. Hey, didn’t they parole you or something?”

  “I joined up. In the real Marines now.”

  “Huh. That’s not smart. But, you know, your funeral.”

  Kenneth stood up and turned around to face Nick.

  Jesus. Forgot how big this guy is, Nick thought. Standing at his full height, Nick only came up to Kenneth’s chest.

  Kenneth stretched out his arms and yawned.

  “All right. Done with that one. So what’s up, Morrow? What brings you out this way?”

  “Um,” Nick mumbled. The conversation felt surreal. The Kenneth he remembered would have tried to hit him, stab him or snap him in half by now. “We’re on a mission.”

  “I guessed that. You got more people with you?”

  “A few. We’re heading south.”

  “Just so long as you’re not planning on Shanghai. I was in that area a few months ago.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Couldn’t even get near the city with all the patrols and CDMs swarming around that place. So I’m left doing strikes on smaller outposts.”

  “Um…why? Why bother taking out Chinese military installations?”

  Kenneth shrugged.

  “What the hell else am I gonna do? Not like I can sneak back into the American lines. Tried that. Almost got killed. ’Sides, they’d just put me in another convict unit and tell me to kill Chinks, so why not cut out the middle man?”

  There was a strange logic to that, Nick supposed. Kenneth was clearer, more articulate and much calmer than Nick had ever known him to be, but Nick still kept his pistol ready. He was half expecting the big man to hit him over the head and eat his corpse.

  “So, tell me more about Shanghai,” Nick said.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Kenneth laid out everything he’d seen. He’d only made it as far as Taizhou, fifty miles north of Shanghai proper, before the several hundred CDMs, helicopters and troops had forced him to turn back. He’d originally planned to steal a boat and take his chances trying to make it to Japan, but he hadn’t even made it to the river that ran into the South China Sea. According to Kenneth’s estimate, there were at least five military bases surrounding the city. Taizhou itself was little more than a gigantic People’s Liberation Army base now.

  “You really don’t want to go there, Morrow. You’ll never make it within forty miles of the place,” Kenneth said.

  “We have to try. Um…you okay here? You want us to pick you up on the way back through or something?”

  “Nah. I’m all good. Kinda dig fucking with these guys from inside their own borders. Probably won’t be here, anyway. I like to keep moving,” Kenneth said. “Besides, if you’re dead-set on Shanghai, it’s going to be a moot point.”

  “You think?”

  “Sure. You keep heading that way, and you won’t live to make a return trip.”

  “Uh, okay, then. Good…uh…good seeing you again, Kenneth.”

  “Yeah. Same here,” the big man said, picking up his homemade device from the workbench and carefully putting it into a canvas backpack. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. Drop me a line if you live.”

  * * *

  “Did you find him?” Christopher asked as Nick got back into the Monza.

  “Oh, yeah,” Nick said, breathing out hard and lighting a cigarette.

  “Well, you’re still alive, so I assume he was in a talking mood.”

  “Yeah. We talked.”

  “And? What did he say?” Mary asked.

  “Nothing good.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Fight For Your Life

  Traveling in two Monza SUVs now, Nick and his people made it to Sonid Youqi before 2200. Christopher drove the lead vehicle, which also held Nick, Mary and Briggs. Bryce’s Monza held Daniel and Martin. Both trucks had blacked-out windows, so their worries about being seen were abated somewhat.

  “Running low on fuel back here, Nick,” Bryce radioed as they drove into Sonid Youqi.

  “Right. I see a gas station up ahead, right side, two hundred meters or so.”

  “I’ve got it. Following you in. Go charm those guys into giving us some gas.”

  Christopher pulled the Monza up to the furthest pump, and Bryce pulled in right behind him. Before Nick could even open the door, two young men in People’s Police Service uniforms rushed out of the office and started filling up both vehicles.

  “Wow. That’s convenient,” Christopher whispered.

  “Yeah. Wonder why they’re doing that?” Nick said.

  “Hey, boss. What does this mean?” Mary said, turning her netbook screen to face him in the front seat.

  Nick looked—the characters 国家安全部 had appeared.

  “Ministry of State Security. Where did you get that?”

  “As soon as we got close to the gas station, our cars started transmitting this on a low-power frequency. Looks like our vehicles called ahead for us.”

  “That’s so cool,” Nick said. “I wish our bases had something like that.”

  “So the cars we stole from those scientists actually belong to the agency you’re pretending to be from? That’s a lucky break,” Briggs said.

  Nick heard two quick thumps on the SUV’s tailgate and looked back to see the Chinese Police officer waving him forward. Christopher started the engine, put the truck back in gear and pulled out of the station. In the rearview mirror, Nick saw Bryce’s vehicle following right behind them.

  “Okay, Mary. Where’s Eaton’s program telling us to go now?” Nick asked.

  “We’re actually going to head away from Shanghai now,” Mary said, studying her screen. “The program says go southwest, heading for a town called Dorobod Qi.”

  “Away from Shanghai? That doesn’t sound right,” Christopher said.

  “No, it makes sense. We keep heading straight for it, we have to go through Beijing, Shijiazhuang, Jinan and a couple of other big cities. This way, it’s mostly countryside and mountains, right?” Nick said.

  “Admit it. You made that middle one up,” Christopher said, grinning.

  “He’s right. The chances of military intervention the long way around is much smaller, according to Eaton’s math,” Mary said.

  “All right. I’m just the driver, here. Tell me where to turn,” Christopher said, shrugging.

  It took only a few minutes to clear the low, brown village of Sonid Youqi, and they were once again on a narrow, two-lane road with desert on either side. Nick made the check-in call and reported their position. He talked to Anthony this time, who was obviously under orders to keep the call as short as possible. The call was almost a carbon copy of the night before, except for the last thing Anthony said.

  “I just wanted to tell you good luck—we’re all counting on you,” Nick’s communications tech said as the connection terminated. It was a joke, but Anthony’s voice was flat as he said it. Nick guessed the guy was still reeling from the New York attacks—Nick himself certainly was. But at least he was talking now, which was a big improvement from when Nick and his team had left.

  Nick chuckled in spite of himself. He and Anthony had discovered they both loved the movie “Airplane,” and that was a line from that old film.

  “Chris, how are we doing?”

  “Speed we’re doing now, we’ll be through to the next town in ninety minutes. Gas mileage in these things is a lot better than the last couple of trucks we had.”

  “Sweet. How long until we need another refuel?”

  “At least two hundred fifty miles.”

  “Well, then. Drive on
.”

  * * *

  Several cars and military vehicles passed them in the next hour and a half, but no one seemed to have any interest in the small convoy of commercial sport-utility vehicles. Mary confirmed that the cars were identifying themselves to the military vehicles as well, which was probably why no one bothered them.

  “Man. If we can hang onto these things all the way to Shanghai, we’re in good shape,” Briggs said from the back seat.

  Nick began to relax a little. The Chinese overdependence on technology was working out for them. Their vehicles might just allow them to pass unmolested through most of the mission. He hadn’t much liked McPherson when he’d met him, but he resolved that he’d buy the older man a beer if they ever met again.

  They passed through Dorobod Qi without incident, and Mary let them know that their next waypoint was even farther to the west, a town called Wuchuan. Heading that way allowed them to avoid the fairly major city of Hohhot, she explained.

  “You know, I have an uncle from Wuchuan,” Nick said, fighting to keep a grin from creeping onto his face.

  “Really?” Christopher asked.

  “Hell, no. You white people will believe anything,” Nick said, the smile finally breaking loose.

  Around two in the morning, they were in the middle of the desert again. Their fuel was at about half, and they’d passed by several more military convoys without incident. For the moment, they were on a long, empty stretch of road about twenty miles from Wuchuan. The truck’s cab was quiet, as Mary and Briggs were asleep in the back seat. A crackle and a smattering of rapid-fire Chinese broke the silence, though, and woke them both up.

  “What’s going on?” Mary asked groggily.

  “Someone’s trying to get us on the radio. Asking us to identify ourselves,” Nick said. “Chinese Army Intelligence. Everyone be quiet for a second.”

  He toggled the radio on the Monza’s dash.

  “This is Agent Li of the MSS,” he said in Chinese. “I am traveling with our Russian allies from Spetsnaz 18. We have vital information from the front lines.”

  The radio was silent for a moment.

  “Think that worked?” Christopher asked.

  “Identity confirmed, Agent Li,” the radio crackled. “You may proceed.”

  “Yeah, it worked,” Nick said, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his legs. “We’re good to keep going.”

  As they drove on, they saw headlights up ahead—no doubt the people whom he’d just spoken to, Nick guessed. Something was wrong, however. The vehicles were heading at them on both sides of the road, and coming fast.

  “Shit,” Nick yelled. “Chris —”

  He didn’t get a chance to finish the command. Bullets raked across the Monza’s front windshield, cracking but not shattering it. Standing hard on the accelerator, Christopher jerked the big SUV off the road and into what appeared to be farmland. Bryce’s vehicle followed, but so did the two vehicles that had opened fire on them.

  “Gun it, Chris!”

  Bullets slammed into the back of Nick’s SUV, cracking the back glass. The truck seemed to be bulletproof, but the two trucks behind them were throwing a lot of rounds at them. Even the best bulletproof glass could only take so much. They had to lose these guys.

  Nick saw Bryce’s SUV speed up next to his. The radio on Nick’s jacket crackled to life.

  “Looks like we’re blown, huh?” Bryce asked. He sounded calm.

  “Looks that way. Think we can outrun them?”

  “Nope. They’re driving UAZ Hunters. Better jeeps than ours by a mile.”

  “Gonna have to fight it out, then,” Nick said. His jaw set, he grabbed his M4 from the footwell next to him.

  “Brakes on three?” Bryce radioed.

  “Yep. Just like Krasnoyarsk.”

  “One, two, three!” Bryce yelled.

  Both he and Christopher slammed on the brakes, and the two pursuing UAZ Hunters shot past. As the Hunters hit their brakes, Nick rocketed out the passenger door, opening fire with his M4. He heard Briggs and Mary firing with their AK-47s, and out of the corner of his eye saw Martin and Daniel had opened fire as well.

  The Hunters weren’t bulletproof. Nick and his men managed to shred their back tires and nicely shoot up the rear of both vehicles, but some of the people inside made it out. They were still under fire, and quite a lot of it.

  “Cover!” Nick yelled, and his people rushed behind the most substantial parts of the Monza they could find.

  “NVGs!” Christopher ordered.

  Nick slipped his TotalVis goggles over his eyes and activated the night-vision mode. Behind the two wrecked Hunters, he saw movement. As the bullets continued to slam into the Monzas, Nick carefully sighted down his rifle at one of the moving figures. When the man popped his head up from behind his trashed vehicle, Nick noticed he was wearing old-school night-vision goggles, as well. Before Nick could get a shot off, though, the guy’s head jerked sideways, and he dropped to the ground.

  Nick looked quickly to his left and saw Daniel lying flat on the ground under Bryce’s SUV, his sniper rifle already moving to its next target. Suddenly, the young man jerked to the right, his next shot going wild.

  In all the time Nick had known Daniel, he’d never seen the guy miss a shot. He knew instantly that his sniper had been hit.

  “Ben!” Nick yelled, his voice strained and high pitched.

  “I saw it!” Briggs shouted, already on the move. He covered the short distance between the two trucks, bullets tearing up the ground on either side of him, and made it to Bryce’s truck in two seconds. Nick watched him start to pull Daniel out from under the truck before he turned his attention back to the several men still shooting at them.

  “Bryce! Marty! Cover fire!” he heard Briggs yell.

  Nick slammed a new clip into his M4 then grabbed his pistol with his left hand. He popped out from behind his Monza’s open, bullet-riddled passenger door and opened fire, emptying both weapons before ducking back behind the door. He knew he’d taken out at least one of the guys shooting at him—he’d seen him fall in the green-hued lenses of the TotalVis goggles. As he reloaded, he chanced another look. Mary had dropped one more, and Christopher was emptying his AK-47 at another.

  In a couple of seconds, it was all over. No one was shooting at them now.

  Nick popped one more clip—his last—into his M4 and held up one hand, waving Christopher and Bryce to him. He pointed forward.

  “Chris, Bryce, on me. Mary, Martin, keep us covered.”

  Nick, Christopher and Bryce moved low and fast, heading for the two junked UAZ jeeps. They were riddled with bullet holes, and the one on the left was smoking. As he got closer, Nick saw five corpses, all of them wearing civilian clothes and commercial body armor. On his right, he heard Bryce fire a quick burst from his AK-47.

  “Motherfucker,” Bryce growled.

  “Clear over here, boss,” he heard from his left. Christopher was nudging a sixth body with his foot.

  “Check them for weapons, ammo, anything,” Nick told them, jogging back to where Briggs was working on Daniel.

  The young medic was moving fast, his hands almost a blur. He had Daniel’s body armor, jacket and shirt off. There was blood all over—too much, it seemed.

  “Ben, how is he?”

  “Not now,” Briggs snapped quickly.

  Nick nodded and backed off, bile rising in his throat. His forehead felt hot, and he wanted to go back and kill the shooters all over again.

  “Everyone, get back. Let the man work,” Nick told Mary and Martin, who were wandering closer to check on Daniel. “Go help Chris and Bryce search those guys. Mary, keep Bryce over there. Don’t need him crowding Ben, too.”

  Mary nodded and headed off, but Martin was frozen in place.

  “Now, Martin,” Nick growled.

  The older man looked up and blinked twice, looking at Nick as if he’d just noticed he was there.

  “Yeah. Right. Sorry,” Martin stammered, fol
lowing Mary to the wrecked UAZ Hunters.

  “Fuck. One more second, LT,” Briggs grumbled from the ground. He stuffed more Curlex into the wound on Daniel’s shoulder and stood up. “He’s stable for the moment, but I need to get him somewhere where I can work on him.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “It isn’t good. He’s still losing blood. Bullet slipped right in between the shoulder strap on his body armor. I can keep him alive for a while, but I need to get in there and stop the bleeding. I need a level surface and some light.”

  “Copy that.”

  The rest of Nick’s unit returned then, and Nick turned to face them.

  “Bryce, vehicles. Tell me what we’re looking at.”

  “How’s—”

  “He’s fine for now, but we need to get him somewhere more secure. Transport. Now.”

  Nick hated to snap at his friend, but he knew if he didn’t keep Bryce moving, his driver would quickly turn useless with worry. It worked, anyway. Bryce headed over to Nick’s SUV.

  “Yours is fucking shot, boss. Engine block is cracked.”

  Bryce headed over to his own SUV, his eyes lingering on the injured young sniper before he got in and turned the key. With a loud rattle, the second Monza started.

  “This one’s running, but it doesn’t sound like it will be for long.”

  “Chris. Help me with the back seats,” Nick said, opening the back driver-side door and folding down one of the back seats.

  Christopher quickly folded down the other and, at Briggs’ direction, the team moved Daniel into the now-flat truck bed. Briggs hung an IV bag from the truck’s coat hanger and got the needle into Daniel’s arm.

  “Bryce, take them to the mountains, there. Mary, you go along. Find a spot where Ben can work. We’ll follow on foot.”

  “Hold up, Lieutenant. You’re shot, too,” Briggs said, nodding at Nick’s left arm.

  Nick looked. There was, indeed, blood streaming down his coat sleeve. He slipped off his coat and checked his arm—it didn’t seem serious. Why are you wasting time with a damned graze? he thought at Briggs. Daniel could be dying, for fuck’s sake.

  “Grazed. Leave me a bandage and get moving. I’ll be able to track you by Bryce and Mary’s implants. Go.”